Tag: Nominee

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Nominee sparks warmth when we need it most

I don’t know when or how it happened, but the live music experience has changed. The warmth that used to fill venues, a tangible energy that bubbled and blossomed in the bonds made between strangers, has been replaced by a prickly and sticky heat that exerts itself in the form of cranky elbows to the ribs and an unspoken agreement not to interact with those around you (unless they have a doobie you’re trying to sneak a puff of). Maybe it’s just that we are the first generation that values the video—the tangible evidence of attendance—more than the experience itself, and this means audiences are never fully present, their experience mediated and dampened by the screen held in front of their first. I fear that this loss of this vitality is symptomatic of a larger (and unnerving) societal trend of people growing apart from one another, too invested in hollow interactions mediated by a vacuous internet to interact and engage with other humans in the real world. It is depressing to think that the venues where I grew up (in both literal and figurative senses) and which hold my fondest memories might one day be obsolete, replaced by videos and virtual reality, but I would prefer that than to see the state of live music continue its current trajectory and end up void of all meaning.

Or so I thought.

Weekly staff picks: Broken resolutions playlist

“New Year, new me!” you say as you voraciously guzzle down that last glass of Carlo Rossi. Look, fucking up is an integral part of the new year. All of us collectively vibrating to the same self-destructing frequency. It’s not just you. It’s all of us. These new rules we attempt to abide by are born out of a place of failure. And what do we do when we fail? We listen to music that makes us feel worse than we already do. Oh wait, that’s just me? Anyway, here’s my Broken Resolutions Playlist.

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Un-Holy Mountain: Celebrating the last month of an Austin relic

I gotta say, I really love my job.

I arrived fashionably late to Holy Mountain on their rendition of Barbarella’s “Emo Night”: a nostalgic romp through time back to that one song that reminds you of that one girl/guy. My stuffy Uber driver shifted awkward glances towards my tattooed and pierced brethren as they meandered through the streets like a black, horn-rimmed glassed river capable of melancholy.