Q&A with Thao Nguyen [Noise Pop]

Noise Pop Festival Program & website, 2009 [Link]

NP: I hear you’re looking for a fourth member, now’s your chance.

T: Yeah, and I would love if it was a woman. Mostly they have to be cool, but think I need that balance. Sometimes after three weeks or two weeks with these two dudes I haven't talked about my feelings in forever.

Thao Nguyen fronts the trio Thao with the Get Down Stay Down with Adam Thompson on bass and Willis Thompson on drums (no relation) whose second album, We Brave Bee Stings and All, came out on Kill Rock Stars in 2008. With Thao’s airy, animated voice dancing over jangly guitars and light, poppy rhythms, you can’t help but feel a little happier when you listen to them. Thao headlines solo at the Swedish American Hall on February 26 and promises to find out what puts the “Swedish” in Swedish American Hall.

Noise Pop: Are you excited to headline Noise Pop?

Thao: Am I headlining?

NP: Yes.

T: Really? Holy shit! No one tells me anything, I swear. I better be better than I thought I would have to be.

NP: So you’re excited.

T: Yes, totally. Sorry, it's just funny. If you knew the amount of things I don't know about what I'm doing for my job it would crack you up.

NP: Did opening for Rilo Kiley and Xiu Xiu in the beginning of 2008 pay off when you went out on your own later in the year?

T: When we released [We Brave Bee Stings and All], if we had gone on our own headlining tour it would have been just a string of shitboxes. But when we did that headlining tour a lot of people showed up who would not have had they not seen us otherwise with these other bands. There's no way that we had any sort of footing or clout. We used to play so many places with "tavern" in the name and it's just not that cool.

NP: Taverns can be tough. Any artists you’d love to play with?

T: I have a very deep affection for Andrew Bird, but I feel like if we shared the same bill I would be paralyzed because I'd feel too inadequate to play. And Mirah, I've always been a really big fan of her.

NP: How much songwriting does the rest of the band do?

T: I would say that I write all the songs. It's weird, I'm not really into control but definitely with songwriting I want it, so I prefer that the guys in the band not even hear the song until I feel like it is complete. And they write their own parts because they're much better at drums and bass than I am. I love that collaborative energy, it's just that the song—I need it to be my own.


NP: How did you find each other?

T: Willis and I went to college together and he was pretty much the first drummer I've ever played with. He's like my first rhythmic love and I think he's amazing. I know that he's irreplaceable because I've tried before and it didn't work out.

NP: And Adam?

T: We dated for a minute a long time ago. They are the best musicians that I have had the pleasure of working with. At the same time, we gel enough personality-wise, and we're of the same ethos and the same goals so it works, for the most part, really well.

NP: Working and traveling with these two guys all the time, do you sometimes crave the company of women?

T: I swear, for every 14,000 men there's one woman. Other bands you play with, the people in crews, the staff at venues—everyone is a dude. I know a lot of great female musicians but for whatever reason there's just less. When you do meet a woman that plays music—a touring musician, which is kind of a weird lifestyle—the camaraderie is almost immediate because we have so much to talk about, grievances and triumphs.

NP: I hear you’re looking for a fourth member, now’s your chance.

T: Yeah, and I would love if it was a woman. Mostly they have to be cool, but think I need that balance. Sometimes after three weeks or two weeks with these two dudes I haven't talked about my feelings in forever.

NP: Speaking of feelings, what music do you love?

T: Motown, late 50s and 60s soul and some pop, rock, and folk. That era and into the early 70s is primarily what I listen to, which is why it's such a disability for me to talk about new music that I might be interested in. I also listen to a lot of hip-hop and R&B and want to incorporate that more into the next album (not in an embarrassing way).

NP: No freestyling.

T: I’m not cool enough to do that.

NP: Are you glad you game out to the West Coast?

T: I'll say this about San Francisco: I think I've been to a lot of cities now—actually I'm pretty sure that they all blur together—but I only want to live here.

- JESS HEMERLY

The Art of Frame [Make:]

Make: Volume 16, November 2008 [Link]

Akio Tanabe makes some of the world's most sought-after bicycle frames.

Shortly after World War II, the Japanese created a new form of track cycling: keirin (pronounced kay-rin). In a keirin race, a bicycle, motorbike, or moped sets pace for six to nine bike riders, gradually increasing speed on each lap. When the pacer drops off, the race becomes a sprint as riders jockey for the front position.

People across Japan trek to velodromes to watch and bet on keirin racing the way Americans bet on horse racing — except the stakes are much higher.

With significant sums of money at stake, a governing body, Nihon Jitensha Shinkokai (NJS), regulates keirin racing. NJS has exceptionally high standards for bike geometry, weight, and materials, to ensure that a rider’s equipment never provides an advantage or results in catastrophic failure. This fiercely regulated system of quality standards comes from a tradition of quality and integrity. Many keirin bikes are hand-built by a single frame builder.

Urbanites worldwide have caught keirin fever, and frames branded with some of Japan’s most notable names, from 3Rensho to Watanabe to Makino, roll through city streets. And while NJS-stamped frames and parts are sought by fixed-gear fans for street riding, the NJS stamp of approval is the only thing that will allow a frame or part on the keirin track.

On a recent trip to Tokyo, we were lucky enough to hook up with a Flickr contact, a bicycle aficionado named Yohei Morita. On Christmas Day, Morita picked us up at our hotel and offered to take us around to some of his favorite bike shops in the city. After the first shop in the Shibuya ward, we considered where to go next. I blurted out, “Kalavinka!”

“Sure, it’s a short drive,” our host answered.

For 35 years, Tsukumo Cycle Sports, a small community bicycle shop located in Meguro ward, Tokyo, has serviced all kinds of bicycles, from domestic mama-chari to professional keirin bikes. But it’s what lies in the back of the shop that makes Tsukumo a destination for bicycle aficionados. It’s in this tiny workshop, the size of a large closet, where Akio Tanabe creates some of the most sought-after
bicycle frames under the name Kalavinka.

There’s nothing particularly new about the technology Tanabe-san uses to hand-build his frames. His workshop is filled with sketches, bottom bracket shells, lugs, and bottles of chemicals. There’s no automated assembly line, no shiny new tools, and, until recently, no space-age carbon fiber. Kalavinka has been working on a carbon track frame for some time, but Tanabe-san is best known for frames
produced with steel tubing and welding machines.

Before opening Tsukumo and starting his own line of bikes, Tanabe-san worked as a test rider and racer. He builds 80 to 90 frames a year, half of which are for professional keirin racers. Despite Kalavinka’s prestige, Tanabe-san is incredibly humble. He greeted us warmheartedly, showed us his workshop, and even posed for a picture. But when we began lumping on the praise, he deflected it by pulling a metal Kalavinka head
badge from underneath the workbench, meticulously hand-painted by his wife.

The art of frame building is enjoying new interest in the United States. The United Bicycle Institute in Ashland, Ore., offers two-week programs for aspiring frame builders. And it’s partly because of Japanese legends like Tanabe-san.

—Jess Hemerly, 2008

Citay [The Onion AV Club]

The Onion AV Club, San Francisco Edition, July 10 – 16, 2008

Interview with Ezra Feinberg, Citay frontman, for the Onion AV Club (San Francisco Print Edition only)

Citay began as a solo project, with onetime Piano Magic drummer Ezra Feinberg laying down tracks in his San Francisco apartment. But with the help of Tim Green (The Nation Of Ulysses, The Fucking Champs), Citay became a two-man studio project, and now, two albums later--the most recent is last year's Little Kingdom—the band has grown into a six-member juggernaut. Feinberg plays "friendly dictator" to his bandmates—which include new entries Josh Pollock and Sean Smith—composing mellow, airy tracks that approach psychedelia with repetitive melodies, breathy vocals, and sometimes surprising electric guitars. The A.V. Club talked with the band's founder and frontman about transitions, the future, and where he got that silly name.

The A.V. Club: How has Citay changed now that it's a full band?

Ezra Feinberg: Citay wasn't done with a band in mind, it was done thinking it might just be a recording project. For the second record, Little Kingdom, I knew once the songs were finished I would show them to the band and they'd reinterpret them live. The only thing that's changed is that I've gone from not really thinking about it in terms of a live show to having faith that the live show would work with the songs.

AVC: You're going through a lineup change right now. Has it been a smooth transition?

EF: It's proving to be a very smooth transition—smoother than I could have ever imagined. The electric guitars are the centerpieces of Citay, and Adria [Otte] and Jesse [Reiner] both have gotten really into their other projects and had to leave. I found two people who are close friends of the band, Josh Pollock and Sean Smith, who are both really excited and amazing guitar players. I couldn't be happier. It's been a transition that was necessary and a step forward in the development of our sound live.

AVC: With your bandmates involved in various projects, are you open to the idea of a revolving-door band?

EF: I have to be. Ideally it's a stable lineup, but I think it's going to continue to be good. When you have a singular vision, that's what you have to deal with: a revolving door.

AVC: Your highest-profile gig before Citay was playing drums with Piano Magic—what inspired you to become a frontman?

EF: Before Citay, I felt like I was always the principal songwriter and I was always a leader in the bands, but felt as though there needed to be someone else who had more character or personality or stage presence—more flash or bite or something—than me. But Citay has actually represented me: I can do that, and I want to do that and work it out in my own way.

AVC: At your last San Francisco show, a drunk guy at the bar yelled "Citay!" like he was channeling Steve Perry. Does that happen a lot?

EF: I don't remember the drunk guy, but it certainly happens. The idea [behind the band name] is a word that only exists in songs, taken out and used as a band name. "Citay" is not a word, but it's sung all the time.

AVC: You've described Citay's sound as "bridging the gap between 'Diamonds And Rust' by Joan Baez and 'Diamonds And Rust' by Judas Priest," which is a hell of a gap. What made you think you could do that?

EF: I really love a lot of really heavy guitar music and I really love a lot of very sweet-sounding music, but I've never wanted to be in something that was just sweet and I've never wanted to be in something that was just heavy. There wasn't much premeditation for this project--what came out was some heavy stuff and some sweet stuff together, often in the same song.

AVC: What's next?

EF: We're playing a bunch of local shows in the summer just to get the new guitar players all together. I think that the lineup change pushed back work on a new album a little bit, but it'll happen. —Jess Hemerly

Citay performs as part of the Rough And Tumble theater company benefit with Tall Firs, Sleepy Sun, Corvette Summer, and DJ Andy Cabic on July 15 at Café Du Nord at 8 p.m. Tickets are $10-$20 and the show is 21+. Citay also performs with Tall Firs, Brian Glaze, and Meridians on July 16 at 21 Grand at 8:30 p.m. Tickets are $7 and the show is all-ages.

Book Review: Revolution on Canvas [Chord]

Chord, Issue 43, June 2007

The second installment of Revolution on Canvas may amount to Chicken Soup for the Tortured Soul, but in the end, reading is better than cutting.

Revolution on Canvas, Volume 2: Poetry from the Indie Music Scene
Edited by Richard Balling
Warner Books

In The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby suffers the disillusionment of realizing the American Dream only to find himself feeling more hollow and empty than ever before. Jay largely suffers this experience silently and even the denouement-shattering epiphany of his last scene is wordless. Presumably, the emotions of Bobby Darling of Gatsbys [sic] American Dream are more finely wrought and therefore explicable in print. Unfortunately, like the rest of the writing in Revolutions on Canvas Volume 2, Darling's poem is mercilessly melodramatic, with a banal metaphor that warrants expulsion from any serious poetry workshop. The collection of poetry and fiction from various names in the indie music scene takes itself entirely too seriously. I didn't laugh or cry or feel anything deep down in my soul, but I did roll my eyes. A lot. I also found myself cursing Charles Bukowski and E.E. Cummings until I remembered that it's not their fault they spawned a generation of imitators who think anything with random line breaks, misused punctuation, and sensory language constitutes "poetry."

There's no shortage of irony in this anthology, starting with the editor's stated intent to make poetry accessible to the apathetic. It calls itself a survey of indie music, but some of the best indie lyricists of today—Dave Berman, Mark Kozelek, Colin Meloy, to name a few—are nowhere to be found. Instead, with work from people like Fall Out Boy's Peter Wentz and A Static Lullaby's Joe Brown, this book gives hope to kids scribbling bad poetry in notebooks that one day they, too, will be published poets. That said, people love this sort of stuff—it's how the emo corner of the indie rock world became popular in the first place. The second installment of Revolution on Canvas may amount to Chicken Soup for the Tortured Soul, but in the end, reading is better than cutting.

Low: Delight Us With Silence [Chord]

Chord [site is down], Issue 42, April 2007

The band's dirge-like percussion, grinding, minimal guitars, long harmonic vocal phrases, and emotional lyrics resulted in a sound so different that it prompted a friend of Sparhawk to coin the term that has followed them throughout their career. "We played our first shows here in Duluth and this friend of ours who worked in a record store was always joking around about the intricacies of the music scene and he said ‘I got it! You should call it Slowcore!’" Sparhawk reminisces.

When Alan Sparhawk started Low, he had no idea that nearly fourteen years later they would still be making records. "We were just kind of fiddling around and we had no ambitions at all," says the frontman. "The next thought was that we’d do a show and see what kind of adverse reaction we’d get out of people. It was very much dictated that we’re gonna play really slow music that’s barely there and see how little we can get away with." But they began to realize the possibilities of the style and it caught on with fans. Now, on the brink of their fourteenth year of playing haunting, minimalist music with his wife Mimi Parker, they're set to release a new album on SubPop, Drums and Guns.

The band's dirge-like percussion, grinding, minimal guitars, long harmonic vocal phrases, and emotional lyrics resulted in a sound so different that it prompted a friend of Sparhawk to coin the term that has followed them throughout their career. "We played our first shows here in Duluth and this friend of ours who worked in a record store was always joking around about the intricacies of the music scene and he said ‘I got it! You should call it Slowcore!’" Sparhawk reminisces. "It was a total joke and I think I mentioned it at one of our interviews." The tag stuck. They don't hate it but they do find it amusing. "You gotta have those tags I guess. I think that there are worse things to be called."

Their style has deeper roots than trying to shake things up in Duluth. Like many musicians, Sparhawk learned more about music in church than anywhere else. "Anyone who’s grown up going to church regularly with their family ends up singing those hymns and for some kids that’s the only singing you do throughout the week except for maybe some singing in school during the week." Alan was raised as a Mormon and his father, a jazz musician, often enlisted him up to sing for the congregation. "We’d loathe doing it but I look back and I realize that here were some semi-sophisticated things we learned from doing that," he says. "Harmony, breathing, holding notes, enunciation… those songs move slowly and there’s very long phrasing." That style has come to define Low's vocals.

The trio teamed up again with the producer of their 2005 rock-and-reverb infused album, The Great Destroyer, but Drums and Guns is nothing like their last outing with the David Friddman, the producer known as "the Fifth Flaming Lip." "David is a good producer," says Sparhawk. "He lets the band breathe and helps you push yourself. There was a lot of conversation homework, a lot of phone calls before we went in to record, just kind of me rambling and mumbling about whatever my concerns were and by the time we got to the studio he at least had me figured out a little bit and help us get on the right track and find what we were looking for."

Low is back from their adventure in rock with the new album, but this time they took a different approach in the studio than they have in the past. "You can hear drum machines and loops and there’s more dabbling in mechanical things," says Sparhawk. "We kind of assembled the record like a hip hop record." It's a departure from their usual method of sitting down in the studio, playing the songs as if playing for an audience, and fleshing them out as they go along. "After all these years I just sort of know all the patterns we’d fall into if we just do that so we decided to not do it that way," he says.

Sparhawk and Parker will tour this spring in support of the new album with current bassist Matt Livingston (also the bassist in a Sparhawk side project, Retribution Gospel Choir), but with one of their two children now in school, the future calls for changes. Sparhawk admits, "It’s getting more and more difficult to work out scheduling for touring." Regardless of whether or not they decide to really settle down, they will never give up music altogether. "It seems like music is just part of us," he says. "It’s kind of what our family has become and I think we’ll always have something that we’re doing in that realm."

For now, Low fans can relish Drums and Guns as a study of what has kept this band unique throughout the years. "There’s definitely a couple songs that, as far as recordings and stuff," says Sparhawk, "I definitely think are the strongest things that we've done."

— Jess Hemerly, April 2007

MySpace Virtual Demo [MacTribe]

MacTribe, January 2007 [Link Part 1 & Part 2], also appeared in MacTribe's first print edition.

How MySpace Connects Artists, Labels, and Fans

Teenagers adore it. Young adults use it to pass the time at lame desk jobs and track down people from their past. Predators use it to zero in on potential victims. Parents fear it more than any parent feared the Beatles and Elvis's gyrating hips combined, and other people just think it's a stupid waste of time and energy. So what could possibly make MySpace useful beyond worldwide Internet distraction?

Music, that's what.

Before the dawn of the Internet age, when everybody suddenly fancied themselves an expert in web site design, musicians looking to promote their work had to do so through analog means: demo tapes, flyers, performances at artist showcases, etc. And just because they got a gig or found an A&R exec who’d bite doesn’t mean they’d have the one thing that can keep a musician’s career going for a long time: fans.

The digital revolution made it easy to upload tracks to a server and put them on the Internet, where everybody has access to them. But band web pages required at least rudimentary HTML skills, and not everyone broke down and bought a copy of HTML for Dummies. Now, anybody with a few tracks, a computer, and an Internet connection can create a self-promotion music page thanks to the controversial juggernaut of a social networking site, MySpace.

A few months ago, I received a MySpace message from Karl Miles, a former high school classmate who I’ve been out of touch with for 7 years, asking me to go to his MySpace Music page and check out his tracks. He's starting a career as a solo folk artist and found me through the magic of MySpace. He wanted to know what I thought of his music so I went to his profile and listened to his tracks, played through the built-in mini player. Since he made them available for free I was also able to download them, save them to my computer, and play them for my friends.

Karl admits that part of the attraction to MySpace was its ease of use, having put off setting up a "real" site for far too long. And he doesn't subscribe to the delusion that MySpace will make him famous. "I find an open mic will generate more attention," he says. "It is more likely a person will hear about me some where else and check if I'm on MySpace." He certainly doesn't believe that MySpace is an easy way out of a musician's traditional struggle to be heard. "You still have to do leg work, play gigs," he says. "If you get a buzz outside MySpace maybe you can get one on MySpace. But I don't think MySpace will create one for you on its own."

Ezra Caraeff, owner of Portland-based indie label Slowdance Records, sees many bands are not as realistic as Miles. Instead they believe that a MySpace page and 400,000 friends is a quick ticket to Mick Jagger status. "I think a lot of bands think friends equal sales," he explains. "But those are the same bands who think emailing me to 'check them out' or 'you should sign us, we RoCk' [sic] is a good idea as well."

The problem with MySpace for many hopeful musicians is that the "adding friends" feature creates a false sense of audience, and with that false sense comes an inflated perception of fame. There are actually programs that crawl MySpace on a band’s behalf and add friends at random, an act equivalent to email spamming. "Since it's so lawless," says Caraeff, "it's a chance for these unknown bands to be on an even plane with known artists. Like, we don't have a record or play shows, but we have as many friends as Hoobastank." Caraeff also worries that the meaning of the word “friend” will be forever corrupted by the MySpace “friend” system.

Yet despite this grand delusion factor, Ezra's label insists that all of their artists have MySpace pages, most of which are maintained by interns. Even his label itself has a page, and Slowdance has used the bulletin feature to reach bands' audiences—although Ezra still thinks email blasts are more direct and consequently much more effective. A blog post on the profile—which touts the label as the "Best. Label. Ever."—begs musicians not to spam them with requests to listen to their tracks.

As the head of a label, Caraeff sees the proliferation of bands with little talent but a lot of friends as just another stage in the evolution of the music industry. "My brother used to work at Capitol Records and I remember going there when I was in like 10th grade and seeing crates of demos in this dumpster," he reminisces. "It's a very sobering thing. MySpace reminds me of that on a daily basis… so much delusion."

But not every band that’s active on MySpace is mired in delusion. One band that has found success via the Internet is Saosin, a post-hardcore band who got their start by posting tracks to a variety of Internet music forums. Their tracks caught on, and their first show was jammed with kids clamoring to see the band they'd heard on the Internet. They now have a deal Capitol Records and just finished their third Warped Tour.

Saosin maintains a MySpace page. In an interview with bassist Chris Sorensen he made it clear that the guys in the band actually use it. Part of the fun for Chris is the ability to listen to a band’s tracks on one page and then “go check out some hot babe’s page.” The band’s page boasts over 178,000 friends and actual band members answer messages.

Another up-and-coming band that actively uses MySpace is Holiday and the Adventure Pop Collective, an Americana group from the San Diego area that tours widely all over California. Recently nominated for the title of Best American Band for the San Diego Music Awards, band member Louis Caverly says they use it for at least an hour every day when they’re not on the road. “MySpace is a community and for any community to work you have to talk to the people,” says Caverly. “It is pretty rad to talk directly with folks, be it potential fans or possibly a personal hero that you stumble upon.”

At first it just seemed like an easy place to upload tracks but Caverly now believes that it is a great tool to have in the arsenal as they build their career. They will solicit potential fans but not by using a “friend adder.” Instead, they take the time to surf the site for people with tastes that match their style and for bands that play a similar kind of music. For them, it’s really about logging on and making it work. “MySpace will help us to increase our audience because if you use it, it works.”

Shawn Hatfield, an experimental electronic musician in San Francisco, has a similar philosophy when it comes to reaching out through MySpace. "I already had a personal page and figured it would be a good place to give my fans access to information on upcoming projects and also a way for them to feel like they've had a personal connection with me that goes beyond just owning the CD or record," he says. Hatfield has had offers to play gigs overseas through MySpace and believes that MySpace has the potential to help him gain enough attention to score larger gigs.

But how realistic is it that the music industry sees these band pages as anything more than must-have novelties for their artists? Well, if an artist catches the eye of an active MySpace user who happens to work in A&R (artist and repertoire, in case you have always wondered what it stood for), it’s very realistic. And such A&R reps do exist. Tony Kiewel, head of A&R for indie label SubPop, is one active user who believes that MySpace is something more than just a project for interns or a collective unheard cry for attention. "I definitely look at it to hear new stuff both as a fan of music and as an A&R guy," he says. "If I like a band I'll look at their page and often times end up listening to their friends’ bands that they have in the top 10 or whatever that little list is." So there's no algorithm that converts MySpace friends to record sales but who a musician is connected to and how may lead to an important discovery by the right person.

Kiewell also relies on the site as a research tool and a quick way to zero in on what people are listening to. "You can't Google 'The Books' and find anything helpful about the band without some serious digging," Kiewell explains. “If I go to MySpace and do a band name search I can find them in seconds." And it's not just a band bio that you'll find; it’s an interactive page full of information. "I can hear them. I can see where they're from. I can see who they're fans of," says Kiewell.

And for musicians, the ability to check out who other musicians are into makes it an extremely useful networking tool. Solo artist Lia Rose experienced this first hand when one of her favorite indie musicians, Damien Jurado, left a comment on her MySpace music page. “I could hardly believe it, and of course returned the sentiment with a comment on his page,” she says. That comment led to an interesting chain of events for Rose. A member of a band in Holland, Winterbirds, found Rose’s comment on Jurado’s page and they added each other as friends. “After about a year of corresponding,” she tells me, “he gives me an internet music challenge by sending a song with just guitar and inviting me to write lyrics and melody and send some vocals back.” This correspondence turned into a project called Weatherkingdom that, naturally, has its own MySpace page too.

MySpace is more than just another venue for Internet voyeurism—it is actually a fantastic tool for labels, fans, and artists alike. “The real take-a-ways include finding other artists to play shows with, Internet radio stations to spin our songs, industry contacts, far away friends and folks that can help our career grow,” believes Louis Caverly. And the recent announcement that MySpace has teamed up with Snocap to allow artists to sell their tracks directly through MySpace pages will only make things more interesting. “I think it will be the great equalizer for those bands that hoard ‘friends,’” Caraeff contends. “They will soon find out the sobering results of 40,000 friends and $6.00 in total downloads.”

But will the day come when a label “discovers” a band through their MySpace page? "It's totally possible," Kiewell of SubPop predicts. "It hasn't happened yet but I bet it will soon.”

— Jess Hemerly 2007

Saosin [Chord]

Chord [site currently down], Issue 39A (Warped Tour Special Issue), June 2006

Saosin began with a grassroots Internet campaign where band members posted MP3s to music message boards. "We didn't whore ourselves out," says Sorensen. "We just made it so people heard the music and didn't even necessarily know who the band was." Their viral strategy worked. Their first show, part of a local showcase, sold out. Kids lined the front of the stage, mouthing the words to the songs.

If you're not sure how to pronounce Saosin, you're not alone. Even the band's five members fluctuate between pronunciations—sometimes it's "say ocean," sometimes "say oh sin." But according to bassist Chris Sorensen, knowing their music is more important than properly pronouncing the name, which former lead singer Anthony Green adapted from the Chinese word for "be careful," xiaoxin (the literal English translation is "small heart"). One thing is for certain, though: while the recording industry struggles to compete with technology, these SoCal-based rockers used it to launch a career.

Saosin began with a grassroots Internet campaign where band members posted MP3s to music message boards. "We didn't whore ourselves out," says Sorensen. "We just made it so people heard the music and didn't even necessarily know who the band was." Their viral strategy worked. Their first show, part of a local showcase, sold out. Kids lined the front of the stage, mouthing the words to the songs.

Now with a Capitol Records deal and a spot at Warped Tour for the second year in a row, Saosin is in the studio working on their first full-length album to complement their two existing EPs. "The only expectations they have are that we have a good record," says Chris. "They really work with what we have instead of coming to us with some cookie cutter 'this works' type scheme."

Even as they gain momentum, they haven't forgotten their cyber beginnings. Saosin's MySpace page boasts nearly 140,000 friends. "The coolest thing about MySpace is that you can listen to that band and then go check out some hot babe's page," Chris chuckles. They also want to see other talented bands succeed. Their web-based "Open for Saosin" contest put unknown bands on the bill with them. "It's cool that they earned that show," says Chris. "The bands that worked really hard to do it are the ones that are going to try and make it." They'd love to do it again in the future.

Between an unexpected spot on the main stage and managing the merch table, driving, and setup, Saosin was overwhelmed at Warped in 2005. But despite surviving on little sleep, Chris considers it a pivotal moment in their career. "I think that tour was, financially and as far as gaining fans and exposure, our biggest moment so far." This year they plan to hire some people and appreciate Warped. You might even see drummer Alex and lead singer Cove swinging at pitches in the MLB batting cage, but not Chris. His skills behind the plate pale in comparison to his skills on bass, and he's hostile to America's pastime. "I'm an anti-baseball fan, and you can tell that to the Major League guys."

- Jess Hemerly, June 2006

Tour Essentials: Moneen [Chord]

Chord [site is down], Issue 39A (Warped Tour Special Issue, 2006)

The guys of Moneen are no strangers to the road. Fresh off the release of their second full-length album, The Red Tree, those in the know have flocked to Moneen's remarkable live performances for years. Moneen brings their emotionally loaded lyrics and the colossal dreads and potent sound of guitarist Chris "Hippy" Hughes—think My Bloody Valentine meets Minor Threat—to the MLB/Vagrant stage at this year's Warped Tour. Lead singer Kenny Bridges talks about three things you won't find the band without.

1. An arsenal of socks and underwear. With all of their experience on stage, you won't find the guys getting cold feet—or tolerating wet ones. "Soggy feet equal grumpy moods," says Kenny, "so socks are essential." Kenny admits, though, that rocking out commando is okay once in a while.


2. A butter knife. Forget the Swiss Army knife. The dull old butter knife is a necessity that you might need when you least expect it. And they're serious about it. "If we screw ourselves by not bringing a butter knife on tour again," Kenny threatens, "I swear I will quit the band." Just what they use it for remains a mystery, but apparently it's for more than just cheese and butter.


3. Something to pass the time. Kenny suggests a string. "Hours of fun. Tie knots, tie friends, tie shoes... endless possibilities," he says. Even a band on Warped Tour can find pleasure in the simple things, right? Maybe not... "What am I talking about, string sucks." Perhaps they help Chris take care of his dreads instead.

- Jess Hemerly

Thursday: Emo Boys Don't Cry [Noise Pop]

Noise Pop 2006 Festival Program

Perhaps it's their connection to home that's enabled the long-time friends to create such intensely personal music, going all the way back to Thursday's first release, Waiting, on Eyeball Records in 1999. Whatever the cause, the group's tightly-woven melodies—driven by the dynamic guitars of Tom Keeley and Steve Pedulla, the haunting bass of Tim Payne, and the thundering drums of Tucker Rule—bind with Rickly's soul-baring lyrics to make songs that connect.

Starting out as a bunch of 19-year old boys from New Brunswick, New Jersey, Thursday quickly grew from gigging in VFW halls and basements to playing on the main stage at 2002's Warped Tour. But despite the success of the post-hardcore group, its members are still small town boys at heart. "Now, being on a major label and spending so much time on the road, we still feel that need for connection to our home more than ever," says frontman Geoff Rickly. "The truth is it's still quite shocking to have done so much so early on."

Perhaps it's their connection to home that's enabled the long-time friends to create such intensely personal music, going all the way back to Thursday's first release, Waiting, on Eyeball Records in 1999. Whatever the cause, the group's tightly-woven melodies—driven by the dynamic guitars of Tom Keeley and Steve Pedulla, the haunting bass of Tim Payne, and the thundering drums of Tucker Rule—bind with Rickly's soul-baring lyrics to make songs that connect.

While the Cure is an obvious inspiration of the band, Rickly credits a '60s legend with encouraging him to get behind the mic. "Touring with The Cure was an unbelievable honor, and they surely are a huge influence on us, but the truth is that seeing footage of Janis Joplin when I was young really made me want to sing more than anything else in the whole world. It was the first time that I saw pure unrestrained passion that wasn't connected directly to masculinity like it was with Led Zeppelin or even the Who." With a little help from his punk vocal coach, CBGB punk diva Melissa Cross of Bibi Wa Moto, Rickly found a way to sing as expressively as the lyrics he wrote.

Thursday just finished its fifth major album, A City By the Light Divided, with producer Dave Fridmann (known as "the fifth Flaming Lip" for his legendary work with that band). "I believe it's the most beautiful and intense thing that I've ever been a part of," says Rickly.

Rickly is also excited to bring the "Shirts for a Cure" tour to this year's Noise Pop. The jaunt is helping raise money and awareness for the Syrentha J. Savio Endowment, which provides financial assistance to underprivileged women with need of breast cancer treatment and therapy. Just another example of small town boys making good. JESS HEMERLY

The Walkmen: A Fire Inside [Noise Pop]

Noise Pop Festival Program, February 2005

Following the breakup of underground favorites Jonathan Fire*Eater, organist Walter Martin, drummer Matt Barrick and guitarist Paul Maroon teamed up with singer/guitarist Hamilton Leithauser (Martin's cousin) and bassist Peter Bauer—who had been playing together as The Recoys—to form The Walkmen. Though the New York outfit has only been together since 1999, the guys have known each other since childhood. Leithauser met Barrick at summer camp back in fourth grade; he met Bauer in a DC park in ninth grade; and he was introduced to Maroon in high school when Maroon became the new guitarist in Martin's band.

"I called Walt on the phone when I realized that [The Recoys] weren’t gonna survive," explains Leithauser. "I said, 'Your singer is wack. I can do a better job.' He bought it, and a few months later we were in what became our studio, trying to get the ball rolling.

"This is what we have always wanted to do," continues Leithauser. "We've all been in bands since middle school, so we all knew that no one was going to out and out quit."

Armed with the remainder of their DreamWorks funding and backing from hopeful investors, the former Fire*Eaters bought a 600-foot space in what was once a Nash Rambler car factory in Harlem and converted it into Marcata Recording, which has been used by everyone from French Kicks to The Kills to, of course, The Walkmen.

"A lot of Harlem is really great," says Leithauser. "If you go north or south of Marcata you can find these fantastic old houses that are mainly on run-down, out of the way streets. It's right where Royal Tenenbaums was filmed."

As evidenced on both of their full-lengths, 2002's Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone and last year's Bows + Arrows (Record Collection), The Walkmen vary their emphasis on guitar, drums and keys to create a sound that continues to move away from their previous bands' garagey tendencies. While they're often compared to early U2, their influences range from The Velvet Underground to Fugazi and The Make-Up. The Walkmen's sonic diversity was driven home by the first single off of Bows + Arrows, "The Rat," which is markedly different than the rest of the album.

"We try to keep our stuff as varied as possible," says Leithauser, "because inevitably it always ends up sounding like us."

In addition to a recent appearance on The O.C., the band has been in Marcata working on its next album.

"We have a bunch of groovy songs that are just gonna knock your socks off," promises Leithauser. "I hope it's very different from the last one, but we'll have to wait and see."

Leithauser says The Walkmen are looking forward to closing Noise Pop this year and enjoying everything that the Bay Area has to offer.

"San Francisco's one of the only places," he says, "along with Chicago and Miami, that I could see myself living outside of New York." JESS HEMERLY

The Walkmen headline Bimbo's 365 Club on Sunday, February 27th.

Berkeley Commission Honors Fourteen ‘Outstanding Women’

Berkeley Daily Planet, April 02, 2004 [Link]

Berkeley’s Commission on the Status of Women (COSOW) honored fourteen Outstanding Berkeley Women at a public awards ceremony Wednesday evening at the North Berkeley Senior Center. The honorees were recognized before friends and family for their contributions to the Berkeley community in various fields of interest.

“These women certainly deserve this honor,” said Mayor Tom Bates in comments beginning the ceremony. “We’re so much better off and it’s so great to have them here.”

The Fifteenth Annual awards are part of the COSOW’s commemoration of National Women’s History Month.

For the last 15 years, the commission has chosen the Outstanding Berkeley Woman honor from a pool of women nominated by their peers for extraordinary devotion to their respective causes. This year’s honorees received certificates from both the commission and the California State Legislature. The 2004 winners work in fields ranging from public health to neighborhood organization and were presented at the ceremony by the people who nominated them.

Commissioner Rivka Polatnick said she believes that recognizing the “unsung heroines” of the community is an excellent way to celebrate women’s history.

This year’s award winners include long-time Berkeley community leaders like Sylvia McLaughlin, co-founder of Save the Bay, as well as a women from a new generation of community leaders like Brianna Georgi. A Berkeley High School senior, Georgi heads the Venture Crew 24, a coed, inclusive adventure program modeled after the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts of America.

Also honored was Margi Adam, a singer/songwriter known for her contributions to the women’s rights movement through her exploration and development of women’s music as a political force. Adam spoke about coming to Berkeley at the age of sixteen seeking acceptance in a diverse community, and emphasized the uniqueness and reputation of the city. “There are ideas grown from root in this town,” she said, “and ideas put to the test in this town.”

Ethel Gomez, 19 year boardmember of the Berkeley Boosters Police Athletics League, reflected on her motivation in helping the city’s youth. “I love Berkeley,” mused Gomez. “I enjoy doing what I’m doing and as long as I can I’ll be out there.”

Environmental activist Sylvia McLaughlin explained her reason for continuing her long career of activism. “We may be activist visionaries, but there’s still work to do.”

Another young leader, tobacco prevention advocate Salita Mitchell, reminded the audience, “Us teenagers are the future.”

— "Jessica Hemerly Special to the Planet"

Do Not Call list will cause unemployment [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, October 8, 2003

My roommate is not the only one who depends on telemarketing to make a living. In college, I held several phone-based positions. I sold subscriptions to the New Jersey Symphony, collected money from graduates of New York University for the Alumni Fund, and solicited office space and sublets from residents of New York City's Chelsea neighborhood. I took these jobs not because I enjoyed interrupting people's dinners or favorite television shows, or because I got some odd satisfaction from being cursed at and hung up on, but because I could work part-time and not worry about it interfering with my schoolwork. Telemarketing companies recruit college students, offering them lucrative sales-based commission on top of a minimum wage salary. The hours are flexible and can easily be designed to fit a student's class schedule. Without telemarketing, the market for part-time student jobs diminishes drastically. And, contrary to popular belief, not all of America's university students are trust fund babies who survive on allowance checks from mommy and daddy. Some of us worked our way through school.

The implications of the Do Not Call list are larger than they seem. Since she graduated from college, my roommate has made her living selling knives. Much of her job depends on a list of phone numbers obtained from customers, recommendations of people who may also be interested in purchasing a set of knives. She spends at least two hours on the phone every night cold-calling potential customers and contacting former ones. She hopes to make enough money to pay for graduate school. Up until now, she has been incredibly successful, ranked highly in the nation for sales.

However, with the national Do Not Call list looming, her job security has been shattered. She will no longer be able to contact customers who purchased knives more than 18 months ago, nor can she cold-call the numbers of friends provided by current clients. She can only have customers dial their friends and ask permission for her to call while she is sitting in their houses, shifting the responsibility from her to her customer. A quick search of her old customers in the Do Not Call Database showed that most of them had, in fact, registered. Her dilemma now? Continue to call and potentially face a hefty fine, or comply with the new regulations and watch her sales drop significantly and worry about paying the rent.

My roommate is not the only one who depends on telemarketing to make a living. In college, I held several phone-based positions. I sold subscriptions to the New Jersey Symphony, collected money from graduates of New York University for the Alumni Fund, and solicited office space and sublets from residents of New York City's Chelsea neighborhood. I took these jobs not because I enjoyed interrupting people's dinners or favorite television shows, or because I got some odd satisfaction from being cursed at and hung up on, but because I could work part-time and not worry about it interfering with my schoolwork. Telemarketing companies recruit college students, offering them lucrative sales-based commission on top of a minimum wage salary. The hours are flexible and can easily be designed to fit a student's class schedule. Without telemarketing, the market for part-time student jobs diminishes drastically. And, contrary to popular belief, not all of America's university students are trust fund babies who survive on allowance checks from mommy and daddy. Some of us worked our way through school.

And it's not just college students who are affected. Anyone who needs a job with flexible hours, from single moms to people with full-time day employment, will now have to look elsewhere. In a time when unemployment has risen sharply, eliminating a section of the U.S. job market with a superfluous Do Not Call list in order to improve the quality of life for people who feel compelled to answer the phone every time it rings is certainly not the best investment of government energy, nor is it a way to upturn the unemployment rate.

Sure, telemarketers are annoying and can, at times, be tenacious. We have all received three to seven calls between the hours of 6 and 9 p.m., and it's frustrating, particularly when we're hoping the voice on the other end is a friendly and familiar one. But how difficult is it to say, "No thank you, I'm not interested," or even simply hang up? Is this really a pressing problem or one of those annoying things that America is just sick of being bothered with? Have we really become too lazy to say, "Please take me off your list?"

If the phone rings during dinner, don't answer it. Let the machine pick up. If it was important, call back. If you're afraid of missing a pressing call, get caller ID and answer only those calls you recognize. Many phone service providers even offer a service where callers from blocked numbers must identify themselves before the phone rings in the house. Homeowners can choose whether to accept the call, much like denying and accepting collect calls. And the government could create limits on the hours during which phone solicitation can occur instead of pulling the telemarketing industry's cord out of the jack.

The Do Not Call list does not just prevent long distance service providers from offering you an alternative to your current service, it eliminates thousands of jobs for a section of the population unqualified for most jobs but overqualified for many. It will cause people who are already overworked and underpaid to become even more overworked, and push college students out of jobs with flexible hours that teach them people skills and—from someone who has been on the dialing end of telemarketing calls—patience. Perhaps it's time to look at the bigger picture and think about not just who will benefit from this, but who will be adversely affected when the phones no longer ring. Telemarketers are a nuisance, but not cause for a national uproar. Until, of course, the list takes effect and the unemployment rate inches higher.

Jessica Hemerly of New Tripoli is a recent graduate of New York University. She works at the National Journal in Washington, D.C.

Recording industry wears the black hat in MP3 fight [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, September 14, 2003

The girl, who resides in a housing project with her family, reportedly settled with the RIAA for $2,000. The RIAA offered "amnesty" to those who turn themselves in for intellectual property law violation, agreeing that a notarized, signed contract and a promise of deleted MP3s will protect them from future subpoenas. They do not, however, guarantee protection from lawsuits brought by individual artists who may seek to recoup losses, nor do they promise to keep the amnesty list from angry songwriters, artists and labels. In other words, the amnesty offer may be little more than an attempt to bait more file-sharers into paying for the music they have downloaded for free.

To make up for years of ignorance to burgeoning technology, the Recording Industry Association of America has subpoenaed everyone—major universities, individual users with "too many" files ... and a 12-year-old girl in New York City. It says they are violating intellectual property laws.

The girl, who resides in a housing project with her family, reportedly settled with the RIAA for $2,000. The RIAA offered "amnesty" to those who turn themselves in for intellectual property law violation, agreeing that a notarized, signed contract and a promise of deleted MP3s will protect them from future subpoenas. They do not, however, guarantee protection from lawsuits brought by individual artists who may seek to recoup losses, nor do they promise to keep the amnesty list from angry songwriters, artists and labels. In other words, the amnesty offer may be little more than an attempt to bait more file-sharers into paying for the music they have downloaded for free.

Internet-savvy teenagers have been trading music online since the early 1990s through FTP servers, a system that allows users to grant permission to other users to log directly into their files. It wasn't until Napster became the vogue in 1999, (a user-friendly file- sharing program that helped users unfamiliar with the technology of the FTP server), that file sharing became an epidemic. Why head to the mall and pay $15 for a CD when you can type "Britney Spears" into a box and see every track on her latest album and previous albums fill the screen before you?

A CD-R, the blank CD onto which file-sharers burn their music, costs about 34 cents. The music comes free. With this popular new network and user-friendly search capabilities, the allowances of America's teenagers suddenly went a lot further when it came to music. You didn't need to know anything about the technology -- you just needed a computer, a keyboard, a mouse and free space on your hard drive.

It took the RIAA years to realize that people were getting their major label artists for free via the information superhighway. In 2001, after a long legal battle, Napster fell to the giant, shut down its network and agreed to pay damages to labels and songwriters. But as strikes against Napster increased and its downfall became clearly inevitable, other peer-to-peer (or P2P) programs developed. Kazaa, Morpheus and Audiogalaxy allowed users to access music directories of any user willing to share and download files directly from another user. P2P filled Napster's place. But the RIAA made no attempt to stop it, and now, two years later, they seek to recoup their losses with a vengeance.

The subpoenas, the threats and the promises of amnesty are little more than heavy-handed tactics commissioned by an organization seeking to protect the financial interests of major labels, not in the interest of musicians. They want to fine offenders anywhere from $7,000 to $150,000 per song. Yes, file sharing is a violation of copyright law, making users digital music pirates. They are, in effect, stealing. But the punishments for intellectual theft are not simply excessive; they are preposterous. "Last time I stole a CD from a music store," one user remarks, "I didn't need to pay a $1.5 million fine for getting caught."

The RIAA rests on the assumption that it is losing money because of file sharing. But the money-losing argument rests on the assumption that musical pirates would have bought the CD in the first place. At $17 apiece from most major labels, this is simply not the case. Only one label so far, Universal, has realized that exorbitant pricing of plastic and CDs may have something to do with the decline in sales. They have lower their CD prices to $13. But their efforts to assuage a dissatisfied public may have come too late.

File sharing is not unique to the United States. However, not a single association in another part of the world has acted with the same fervor as the RIAA. Of course, no nation has as stringent copyright laws as does the United States. While RIAA scare tactics may put an end to the free music phenomenon on the mainstream, it will not end in the bigger picture. As the industry goes after P2P users, it doesn't realize that those in the know are going underground in rebellion and will continue to do so every time the RIAA catches on to a new technology.

Until the American recording industry embraces the technology, they will always be a few megabytes behind the pioneers of the digital frontier. And as long as the RIAA attempts to make examples of college students and 12-year-old girls, they—not the file-sharers—will seem like the criminals to the American public.

Jessica Hemerly of New Tripoli is a recent graduate of New York University and is working for the National Review.

Counterpoint: ...While Dean appeal feels like 1972 to youth [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, August 17, 2003

I envisioned a grass roots campaign similar to that of McGovern, where the youth vote and youth participation would lift him from underdog to front-runner during the primaries and carry him to the convention in Boston to cinch the nomination. McGovern went wrong in selecting as vice president the moderate Thomas Eagleton to placate the Chicago political machine. (And it didn't help that Eagleton's past mental-health treatment became an issue.) Dean must not make a similar error. If he does, the Democratic Party's fears will come true and history will repeat the Republican victory of 1972. A good running mate might be Gen. Wesley Clark, who would give Dean an opportunity to show that he's not anti-military, just anti- senseless war on foreign soil.

By now, everyone has heard of the once-unknown former governor of Vermont, Howard Dean. When I picked him as my horse for the race to 2004 in January, few agreed, but all assured me he didn't stand a chance against the big boys. Those people were wrong.

I was a student of politics at the time and am a registered Democrat, so it wasn't really too premature for me to start checking out the possibilities for the presidential election. I found a fantastic Web site recently created and maintained by students at George Washington University. The students had compiled a preliminary list of potential candidates for the Democratic nomination. On the list were those now in contention, or at least in media-speculated contention, including John Edwards, John Kerry, Joe Lieberman, and Dr. Howard Dean. The site contained links to speeches made by each, as well as general information about their political alignments.

A half-ream of printer paper and hours of reading later, I had my favorite. He seemed to have the purest motives, a liberal with a fiscally conservative streak, and I liked what the man had to say. As governor of Vermont, he has managed to create the best state health-care system in the nation. And although the United States is obviously far larger than Vermont, success on a smaller scale shows at least an ability to organize, react, and provide for constituents. The only part of his platform I found troubling was his opposition to gun control, but there is, after all, no such thing as perfect in politics. Betting against the odds, I decided that I'd like to see Howard Dean win the Democratic nomination.

I immediately realized the similarities between Dean and Richard Nixon's Democratic challenger in 1972, George McGovern. Like McGovern in 1972, Dean of 2004 comes off as a progressive candidate who has great ideas and would bring a refreshing change to the White House. The difference with Dean is that while he's liberal on social issues, he knows how to handle money.

Although Vermont has no statute requiring a balanced budget, Dean did it consistently. Dean managed an economy on a microcosmic level of the nation. When he was a candidate, Sen. McGovern had accomplished nothing even remotely close to what Dean has done in Vermont.

I envisioned a grass roots campaign similar to that of McGovern, where the youth vote and youth participation would lift him from underdog to front-runner during the primaries and carry him to the convention in Boston to cinch the nomination. McGovern went wrong in selecting as vice president the moderate Thomas Eagleton to placate the Chicago political machine. (And it didn't help that Eagleton's past mental-health treatment became an issue.) Dean must not make a similar error. If he does, the Democratic Party's fears will come true and history will repeat the Republican victory of 1972. A good running mate might be Gen. Wesley Clark, who would give Dean an opportunity to show that he's not anti-military, just anti- senseless war on foreign soil.

McGovern's success was vested in the loyalty of a bloc of voters, the baby boomers who had just ripened to voting age. They had been watching their friends go to Vietnam for nearly a decade and wanted the war to end. McGovern was the person to end it. Beginning with Iowa, McGovern proved how powerful the nation's disenchanted youth could be when they leveraged their voices in the political arena. His campaign staff consisted of kids. The times were a-changin' and America's youth were ready.

Dean's campaign has looked much like that of McGovern from the start. He charged out of the gates with a way to compete on the same ground as the big money machine of the Bush camp. He has unlocked a resource previously untapped, the Internet, and continues to make it work for him. He has used communications technology to reach disaffected voters, who now feel they have something to be excited about.

In an arena where big money generally determines the victor, Dean is giving the boys, both Democratic and Republican, a run for their big money. But he is not yet playing the politician game; right now, he's playing the money game, and he's playing it well. His weakness is his image. Dean needs to convince people that while he's tough on the issues, he would also be a great guy to have over for dinner.

Dean's ability to come from virtual unknown to media darling by circumventing the fundraising circuit via virtual campaigning should be proof enough that the self-proclaimed "Birkenstock" candidate from Vermont is no joke. In him, young people see a savvy, intelligent man ready to push in a new direction. He convinces young people that government is in their hands. He even makes us believe that the end of American Corporate Democracy is closer than we think.

Jessica Hemerly of New Tripoli is working in Washington, D.C.

Sen. Biden's anti-rave bill is generational war on youth [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, August 1, 2003

The amendment has nothing to do with missing children and is, in fact, an expansion of the Controlled Substance Act, affectionately known as the "crack house statute." The word RAVE in the 2001 draft is an acronym for the bill as well as the name for a kind of party where, according to [Joseph Biden], people are vulnerable to Ecstasy. A rave is a large electronic music party held in space leased to promoters. The promoters and organizers book a list of DJs who will draw a crowd and provide music. A rave generally lasts all night and often well into the early morning, and kids spend the time dancing and socializing. Some attendees do use drugs, but owners do not support the circulation of drugs. Under this act, any property owner who hosts a party at which attendees buy, sell, or consume illegal drugs, regardless of measures taken by the owner to prevent such behavior, stands to face a hefty fine—and nine years in prison.

In American culture, history repeats itself and youth culture remains perpetually under fire. Rock and roll has been a threat to the moral fabric of American society for almost 50 years. Yet the baby boomers are in control and seem to have turned out okay, despite Haight-Ashbury and Elvis's gyrating hips. Older generations fear what the youth embrace.

Youth culture is under fire once again and this time electronic music is the culprit. Kids, electronic music, and the drug Ecstasy have become synonymous in the eyes of the law.

Democratic Sen. Joseph Biden of Delaware used the PROTECT Act, a piece of necessary legislation that expanded the Amber Alert, as a Trojan horse for a completely unrelated amendment to the federal drug code. Formerly known as the RAVE (Reducing Americans' Vulnerability to Ecstasy) Act, the Illicit Drug Anti-Proliferation Act of 2003 failed to successfully pass through any Congressional committees. Undeterred, Sen. Biden managed to tack a watered-down version of the RAVE Act onto the PROTECT Act on April 30.

The amendment has nothing to do with missing children and is, in fact, an expansion of the Controlled Substance Act, affectionately known as the "crack house statute." The word RAVE in the 2001 draft is an acronym for the bill as well as the name for a kind of party where, according to Biden, people are vulnerable to Ecstasy. A rave is a large electronic music party held in space leased to promoters. The promoters and organizers book a list of DJs who will draw a crowd and provide music. A rave generally lasts all night and often well into the early morning, and kids spend the time dancing and socializing. Some attendees do use drugs, but owners do not support the circulation of drugs. Under this act, any property owner who hosts a party at which attendees buy, sell, or consume illegal drugs, regardless of measures taken by the owner to prevent such behavior, stands to face a hefty fine -- and nine years in prison.

I do not condone the use of Ecstasy. But to prosecute property owners who provide their space for a rave under the same law that we use to lock up crack house owners is a gross injustice. Every rave I have been to in the last four years has taken every possible step to make sure that illicit substances do not enter. The organizers hire bouncers who conduct reasonably thorough searches at the door to ensure that attendees are not transporting drugs and they circulate bouncers throughout the party to watch out for illicit substance exchanges. The door searches are so thorough that I've had the contents of my bag dumped out, been asked to take my hair down, and even had to remove my shoes and socks. Drug use is not supported and property owners should not be held responsible for kids who sneak Ecstasy in behind their ears.

The original bill outlined its findings in greater detail than the one passed with the PROTECT Act of this year, but the target is still the same. The Congressional Record includes Sen. Biden's introduction of the law in which he makes it abundantly clear that raves are the target. Biden makes promoters out to be evil corruptors of our nation's youth, stating, "Some supplement their profits from the $10 to $50 cover charge to enter the club by selling popular Ecstasy paraphernalia such as baby pacifiers, glow sticks, or mentholated inhalers. And predatory party organizers know that Ecstasy raises the core body temperature and makes the user extremely thirsty, so they sell bottles of water for $5 or $10 apiece."

Drinking water is now indicative of drug use? Who doesn't need to drink water when they dance? Adults drink alcohol; kids under the age of 21 drink water. Glow sticks, too, indicate drug use? I guess parking lot staffs will have to find another way to direct traffic so as not to look like "rogue rave organizers."

There is a kind of energy that fuels these parties, the same sort of energy that allowed the Rolling Stones and Elvis to grip the youth of generations before us. It's new, it's vibrant, and it makes us want to dance. Most people enjoy raves without the aid of Ecstasy for these reasons. Apparently, the proponents of such fun- absconding legislation either missed out on being young or have gone to extreme lengths to forget.

Unlike the "acid tests" held in San Francisco in the 1960s, where buckets of Kool-Aid laced with LSD were served up to both unsuspecting guests and those there for the "electric Kool-Aid," people who own property where raves are held do not push drugs onto their patrons. But now, those who wish to support the culture of my generation and provide a place where we can party with our peers stand to be persecuted by a government fearful of its own youth.

If we can't change the way our leaders think about our culture, the best we can do is remember. This will someday be our nation, and we have the power to break the cycle of war on youth culture.

Jessica Hemerly of New Tripoli is working in Washington, D.C., at the National Journal.

College grads tread water in post-9/11 economy [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, June 9, 2003

Most people thought it odd that a girl from New Tripoli, born and reared among the cows and cornfields of rural Pennsylvania would choose chaotic life in the Big Apple over the simplicity of our small town. To me, however, it made perfect sense. I never felt comfortable here, ostracized for my voracious reading habit and my love of "old people" music like jazz and opera. Like the Europeans who immigrated to New York in the 19th and early 20th centuries, I yearned to break free from everything I knew and embark on a quest for culture, excitement, and opportunity.

It will be four years ago next weekend that I stood outside Stabler Arena and shed tears with classmates after our graduation from Northwestern Lehigh High School. The tears were not of sadness, however; they were tears of joy. As we snapped our post-graduation family photographs, the one thought in my head was, "Freedom, at last!"

Everything was set: At the end of August, I would leave the sheltered Lehigh Valley and head to New York University in the heart of New York City's Greenwich Village. It was a childhood dream come true.

Most people thought it odd that a girl from New Tripoli, born and reared among the cows and cornfields of rural Pennsylvania would choose chaotic life in the Big Apple over the simplicity of our small town. To me, however, it made perfect sense. I never felt comfortable here, ostracized for my voracious reading habit and my love of "old people" music like jazz and opera. Like the Europeans who immigrated to New York in the 19th and early 20th centuries, I yearned to break free from everything I knew and embark on a quest for culture, excitement, and opportunity.

I easily found all three. I interned for a former president of the United States, abandoned car culture for the subway and comfortable shoes, danced in clubs until 11 a.m., and shared wine and cheese with strangers at free performances of the Metropolitan Opera in Central Park. I also got mugged and had nasty confrontations with lots of bizarre characters—villains even—but those things come with the territory. I fell in love with the city, unconditionally.

So, why come back? Simple. When I entered college, the yen had nothing on the dollar, some of my peers made more money than their parents, thanks to the dot-com industry, and the nation was oblivious to corporate America's creative bookkeeping. In short, the economy was booming. I had no doubts that I'd get my bachelor's degree in politics and begin my dream job after a post-graduation backpacking trip across Europe. I had it all figured out, down to the part where said dream job paid for both graduate school and a duplex apartment in swanky Tribeca.

The day that I stood on the roof of my Lower East Side tenement and watched the World Trade Center crumble to the ground was the day my vision of post-collegiate utopia became unachievable. In the days following the disaster, New York underwent a metamorphosis. Morale and the stock market fell as quickly as the twin giants that sunny September morning. Suddenly, a gigantic crater replaced the financial epicenter of New York City and the nation went to war seeking revenge. But the damage had already been done. With the shattering of national security, financial anxiety and monetary uncertainty replaced economic prosperity and fiscal confidence.

Over the next two years, I watched anxiously as the economy fell apart. There would be no guarantee of a dream job, let alone any job willing to pay a recent college graduate enough money to feed herself in the most expensive city in the nation. With each slight decline of the Dow Jones Industrial Average, the idea of returning home to my parents' house seemed less a sign of failure and more a logical action.

As the end of my lease quickly approached and my massive outpouring of resumes remained unanswered, I decided the wisest thing would be to head home to a place where rent is free and beer is insanely cheap—at least until I devise a new plan.

Returning to the Lehigh Valley has been more of a culture shock than moving to New York. Political opportunities are non-existent, everyone drives a car and neglects the sidewalks, clubs close early, and to most, opera is considered an annoying form of music sung by obese women in Viking hats. But I have come home, and there's much to be said for that.

Home is a warm house in a quiet, peaceful locale and a never-ending supply of food. Home is where I watch the cataclysmic state of world affairs from the comfort of my La-Z-Boy while searching for a job in Washington, D.C., the only place where "degree in politics" appears under "Qualifications" in job listings. Home is where I can enjoy the company of friends in a similar situation, treading water until someone throws us employment lifesavers so we can begin our lives.

Jessica Hemerly lives in New Tripoli.

Allentown's noisy car stereo ordinance goes too far [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, June 24, 2003

Allentown's proposed ordinance contends that "excessive sound amplification" is a threat to public safety. Now, I doubt anyone would disagree that drunken drivers are a far greater threat to public safety than booming bass from a car stereo in the middle of the night. Yet, after a call to the Allentown police I discovered that drunken driving results in impoundment of the vehicle at the discretion of the police officer on the call "nine chances out of 10." The loud music ordinance calls for impoundment of the vehicle 10 out of 10.

"Wait ... So I'd be better off getting drunk and driving around than playing my stereo really loud?"

Sadly, if Allentown City Council passes the bill prohibiting "excessive sound amplification," the answer to my puzzled friend's question will be "yes." The volume will be permanently turned down on hi-tech stereo systems on city streets. If your car stereo can be heard 75 feet away, you will be stopped. But the punishment for violating the ordinance is not a warning, fine or even a summons. Adapted from a 2001 law in the city of Elgin, Ill., "This amendment provides for the impoundment of the vehicle if amplified sound is heard at a distance of 75 feet or more, a fine of $250, and towing and storage fees." And, according to an April 7 article in the local Elgin newspaper, they don't give warnings.

Allentown's proposed ordinance contends that "excessive sound amplification" is a threat to public safety. Now, I doubt anyone would disagree that drunken drivers are a far greater threat to public safety than booming bass from a car stereo in the middle of the night. Yet, after a call to the Allentown police I discovered that drunken driving results in impoundment of the vehicle at the discretion of the police officer on the call "nine chances out of 10." The loud music ordinance calls for impoundment of the vehicle 10 out of 10.

So what, then, is the real issue here? The ordinance would be an amendment to the General Offenses Code, entitled "Public Safety/ Traffic Hazards." The bill was drafted May 7, 2003. But in a memo to Councilman Tom Burke dated March 26, 2003, City Solicitor Robert Brown writes that the purpose of the ordinance is "improving the quality of life for Allentown residents by reducing loud stereo music emanating from motor vehicles onto Allentown streets particularly in the summer months."

This is an attempt by the city of Allentown to deny the phenomenon of the burgeoning, living city. It is an urban community of approximately 106,600 people attempting to maintain the feel of small town America. My contention is that the so-called "excessive sound amplification" poses no safety threat -- it is simply a nuisance. Therefore, the zero-tolerance policy is overzealous in its call for instantaneous impoundment of offending vehicles.

The impoundment clause is not only too stringent, I don't think it could withstand a legal challenge. According to an overarching Pennsylvania statute, impoundment is lawful only when a clear and present threat to safety is evident. In order to defend this piece of legislation, the city would have to present concrete evidence showing that drivers with their stereos cranked up truly are a public safety or traffic hazard. The evidence would have to convince a judge. The goal of simply quelling angry nuisance calls every time a loud stereo flies down the street isn't enough.

Generally, relishing the conveniences of the city also means sacrificing a modicum of peace and quiet. I just spent four years in the largest city in the United States, and I can sympathize. Certainly, there were times I wanted to chase down cars sharing their music at 3 a.m. (not to mention the ice cream truck at 10 a.m) with flamethrowers. But I chose to live in an urban environment, so I dealt with it.

Loud house parties fall into the category of nuisances, but offenders get a fine and possible summons when a neighbor calls to complain about music rattling the pictures on their walls. Laws governing car stereo volume laws exist across the nation in cities such as Albuquerque, N.M., and Nashville, Tenn. In fact, one already exists in Allentown, under the City of Allentown Noise Control Ordinance. But unlike the proposed vehicle ordinance, these bills make it clear that the issue is noise pollution. The punishment for blaring music is not seizure of your house, but fines.

If this ordinance passes, noise polluters will have no chance of keeping their cars. On the other hand, the "officer's discretion" will continue to provide drunken drivers at least a chance of not having to make a trip to the impound lot the next day. If city council wants to truly help cut down on "boom cars" while not causing car owners to throw away thousands of dollars they spent on systems for their vehicles in the midst of a strangling recession, they should consider enforcement of existing laws. And, if they want to show their concern for traffic safety, perhaps the zero- tolerance standard could be applied to drunken drivers instead of annoying music lovers.

Jessica Hemerly lives in New Tripoli.

CBS plays politics with Super Bowl ad critical of Bush [The Morning Call]

The Morning Call, February 1, 2004

CBS says the ad was rejected because it has a policy against accepting advocacy ads, except for ads from political candidates. However, while the network refused MoveOn.org, it did not turn down ads from the like of the White House Office on National Drug Control Policy, the same office that produced sensationalist ads in the past years equating drug use with terrorism. (CBS says it accepted those ads because it does not know of anyone advocating use of illegal drugs, and therefore the message doesn't count as controversy.) This year, the Kaiser Family Foundation has placed an ad during the Super Bowl on the theme of "Know HIV/AIDS." Of course, there also will be tobacco giant Phillip Morris and major pharmaceutical companies—corporate friends of the Republican Party.

While millions of Americans cozy up in front of the television at this time each year to watch the Super Bowl, not all of them are there to watch just football. The Super Bowl also is famous for its commercials, and viewers often watch just to see what their favorite manufacturers and product-peddlers have to offer in terms of creative advertising. We've seen Britney Spears take her clothes off in the extended version of a Pepsi ad, the introduction of Anheuser- Busch's frogs croaking "Bud-weis-errrrr," and Apple's Orwellian commercial featuring Big Brother, all during the breaks of Super Bowls past.

Because so many people watch specifically for the commercials, the Super Bowl is the perfect means to deliver a message or sell a product. According to SuperBowl-ads.com, the average cost of a 30 second spot this year is $2.25 million. And that is all you need to buy a slot, right?

Wrong. At the end of last year, MoveOn.org, the online political forum, sponsored a contest, allowing creative people to submit a 30- second spot about the Bush administration or national policy. The ads ranged from fake infomercials to Bush quotes to Hitler comparisons. Some of the ads were professionally produced; others were clearly the brainchild of one guy with a camcorder. MoveOn.org had a panel of judges, including documentary filmmaker Michael Moore ("Bowling for Columbine") select winners. MoveOn.org planned to purchase time and show the winning ad during the Super Bowl. This year, CBS, which will broadcast Super Bowl XXXVIII, has refused to air the commercial.

The reason for the denial is that the ad is too controversial. It shows children performing working-world tasks such as washing dishes, collecting garbage and on an assembly line, and ends with the rhetorical question, "Guess who's going to pay off President Bush's $1 trillion deficit?"

CBS says the ad was rejected because it has a policy against accepting advocacy ads, except for ads from political candidates. However, while the network refused MoveOn.org, it did not turn down ads from the like of the White House Office on National Drug Control Policy, the same office that produced sensationalist ads in the past years equating drug use with terrorism. (CBS says it accepted those ads because it does not know of anyone advocating use of illegal drugs, and therefore the message doesn't count as controversy.) This year, the Kaiser Family Foundation has placed an ad during the Super Bowl on the theme of "Know HIV/AIDS." Of course, there also will be tobacco giant Phillip Morris and major pharmaceutical companies—corporate friends of the Republican Party.

The only controversy here is CBS's action. The MoveOn.org ad is not a slander ad. It uses facts to expose inequity, contradiction, and inconsistency of the Bush administration. The broadcast airwaves are supposed to be public domain, and to forbid a message solely on its viewpoint is abusive. The Web site of CBS contains a "Diversity Message" from Chairman and CEO Les Moonves that states, "As broadcasters, we aim to ensure that our national viewing audience is reflected in our programming and our peoplewe continue to be steadfast in our goal to become more diverse and more representative of the public we serve."

Refusing to accept the MoveOn.org ad is a clear violation of CBS's own ethical statement, a contradiction to its self-proclaimed public mission. Clearly, this is an example not of diversity or impartiality, but of an attempt to cultivate homogeny within the media.

Why would CBS contradict its own "diverse" public mission? MoveOn.org contends that CBS, whose parent is the corporate conglomerate Viacom, is returning a favor to the White House and the Republican Party. The GOP and friends lobbied hard for new federal rules that allow networks like CBS to own more television and radio stations. The MoveOn.org team claims the White House and Congressional Republicans have custom-tailored new Federal Communications Commission rules that will allow the networks to grow much bigger.

So, while you giggle as beer bottles face off on the gridiron in the annual "Bud Bowl," think about what you're not seeing: a well- researched and factually-supported ad detailing the faults of the White House, because CBS deems the truth about Bush's tax policies too controversial for his football fan constituency

Jessica Hemerly, a native of New Tripoli, is a freelance writer living in San Francisco.