Once known for their raucously anti-suburban anthems and untamed, feverish post-collegiate angst, The Wonder Years have proven time and time again to be a band that grows with its audience, maturing alongside fans while keeping alive the ember of heart-wrenching honesty and candidness that make their sound so deeply personal and raw.
This past September, the band released Burst and Decay, an acoustic reimagining of selections from their discography, from Suburbia I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing’s “Coffee Eyes” to No Closer to Heaven’s “Cardinals”. Alongside this release, they also announced a fifteen date tour, playing an entirely acoustic set at various intimate venues across the United States. On October 8th, 2017, they played not one but two shows at Le Poisson Rouge in New York, NY.
The show I attended was entirely new territory for me: a pop-punk matinee.
Continue reading Live Review: The Wonder Years at Le Poisson Rouge in New York, NY
Combine a dash of nineties grunge with a punch of pop then scour off the sheen of post-production trickery. What you’re left with is the organic, straight-from-the-garage power-prog trio Dash|Ten, who released their self-titled debut album this past week.
The band consists of bassist and vocalist Corrin Campbell, guitarist Steve Ebert, and drummer Pete Greenberg. We had a chance to catch up with them and talk about their latest release, their military beginnings, and their upcoming stint on Van’s Warped Tour.
The Daily Slice: Can you tell us a little bit about where you’re from?
Dash|Ten: We are based out of Louisville, KY, though we are kind of from everywhere because we’re in the Army. It’s funny, though, because we’re all mid-western kids originally, so we have a bit of common ground there. We all moved south to get to warmer climates! Continue reading Artists in the Army: An Interview with Dash|Ten
In June of 1966, President Lyndon B. Johnson and a panel of community leaders, activists, and politicians gathered at the White House Conference on Civil Rights, shortly after the promise of equality was supposedly ensured by the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In the wake of these legislative motions, it quickly became evident that it was no less dangerous to be an individual of color in the United States as the racial tensions that were supposedly ameliorated by these measures were more evident than ever. Four days after the conference, Civil Rights activist James Meredith began a protest walk that would take him and a group of his peers from Memphis, Tennessee to Jackson, Mississippi, a tour of black men defiantly walking across the landscape that represented a historical hotbed of violence, discrimination, and prejudice. On the second day of this march, Meredith was shot by a white supremacist and it became clear that while white politicians proclaimed the dawn of a new era, burning crosses scorched picket fences and sodden earth while racial epithets hung in the stale southern air.
That same summer, the first black superhero in mainstream canon was introduced as the Black Panther hit the pages of Fantastic Four #52. And this past Friday, in an era no less rocked by institutionalized discrimination, ingrained prejudices, and longstanding bias, the hero hit the big screen for the first time as the stand-out star of Marvel’s latest blockbuster Captain America: Civil War.
Continue reading Black Panther: The Hero We Need (And Deserve)
In a statement published yesterday, folk-punk quintet Andrew Jackson Jihad announced that the band would be permanently changing their name to AJJ, an abbreviation that fans of the group have been using since their early days on the scene. A politically conscious group, AJJ attributed the name change, twelve years in the making, to an increased sensitivity and understanding about the implications of their referential choices. Continue reading Andrew Jackson Jihad Shares New Name, New Track
Last night, it snowed for the first time in New York all winter. It was absolutely frigid. (Note that my perception of this may be affected by the fact that I was wearing a summer dress without tights as I ran weekly errands.
Because I am an idiot with no foresight.) The sky was this incredibly dismal grey color, deep and gloomy. If a vibrant sunset is a work of art, oil on canvas, this sky was the murky, opaque water left behind after the brushes are washed between colors. It made a jarring contrast with the ivory falling fast, coating the ground with a thin layer of icy down, shockingly white in a black-and-grey landscape.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about grey areas. Not so much the uncertainty or the vagueness that the colloquialism implies, but the grey areas in which we contain ourselves, hearts heavy and heads buzzing, the moments in which our lives are so consumed by violent darkness and weariness that even the brightest moments are covered by a thin layer of ash. The greyness can be dusky, a storm cloud hanging over the sun, preventing any lightness from breaking through, or it can be leaden, like your lungs are suddenly filling with cement, you, human pavement, footprints left by those who couldn’t wait for the concrete to settle. But either way, the greyness reduces you to a silent film, the color drained from your cheeks, your eyes dull and tired. Continue reading Silver Linings Playlist: Auditory Remedies to Battle the Darkness