Some photographs I went and took.
The Hives, Sparta, skateboarding, etc.
Hello!
I know you subscribe to this fine newsletter because you’re enamored with my debonair wit and mastery of language but I thought I’d do something a little different today and post some photos I’ve taken recently. Oh no not the writer guy trying to express himself through a different artistic medium separate from the one for which he’s traditionally known, not that. Yes yes, I know. But I promise (or at least I hope) that this will be slightly less cringe of a lane change than when your favorite band’s guitarist tries to transition into becoming a fitness influencer or worse: a podcaster. (I’m just teasing! The fitness guy is always the drummer.) I ain’t tryna be some sort of Renaissance man here, just shaking out my camera at the end of a long week and posting a couple of things that fall out. Let’s not make a whole thing of it, ok?
“Damn dude just post your photos on Instagram like a normal person.” Oh I do, but I also fucking hate Instagram. Not to sound like a Luddite or nothing but art looks like absolute shit on your phone! Artistic expression was not meant to be crammed into square little boxes. Sure, scrolling through The Feed is all well and good when you’re killing time at work or waiting for your burger at Shake Shack but please for the love of god make some time to go to a gallery or museum and just gawk at art until you feel something. Take some edibles or whatever and space out staring at a four-foot-tall photo hanging on a wall. Or buy a zine or a monograph from an artist you like. Get your brain off the grid. Or don’t. What do I care. Anyway, the photos.
The Hives
I saw the Hives play an absolutely packed underplay show at the Troubadour in West Hollywood on Tuesday night.
The pros: One of the greatest live acts of all time. Pelle is a first round hall of fame frontman pick, no question. He plays his stage persona so perfectly—a guy who knows exactly how fucking good he is and wants everyone in the room to know it. Saying “you’re welcome” after every song? Chef’s kiss. They played some new songs that haven’t been released yet (from their first album in a decade) and he made very sure that everyone knew how lucky we were to be hearing them. To his credit, the new stuff absolutely smoked. I sincerely would not trust anyone who doesn’t like the Hives.
Also: No opener. Just the main act and an encore. Beautiful. By 11pm I was stuffing a hot dog from Pink’s into my mouth and by midnight I was in bed regretting that decision.
Another positive: the woman next to me said I was the most polite person she’s ever stood next to at a show. My mother will be thrilled to hear this. Fellas, if you’re hovering around six feet, do a quick check-in with the people around you to make sure you’re not being too much of a big dumb oaf. (The woman on the other side of me spent the whole set flipping through Instagram, so fuck her.) Also, by some miracle, a metered parking spot opened up right in front of the venue just as I was pulling up. I realize this is wildly uninteresting to 99% of people reading this, but if you’ve ever driven to West Hollywood you know that this is an act of God (Pelle) himself. It is so rare that I thought it was worth including in this newsletter.
The cons: OK, listen. I know the economy is changing for the worse. I know how tough it is for bands to make money these days. I know how hard international bands get hit when trying to import merch overseas. But $40 for a t-shirt, goddamn. $80 for a hoodie. Am I the only person who finds this a wee bit out of their price range? I say this as someone who is typing this while wearing a vintage Op Ivy shirt I paid $45 for at one of those goddamn yuppie flea markets. Also, speaking of 45 (Pulitzer-worthy transition right there), the band was also selling one of those fake Trump hats. It was black and it said MAKE THE HIVES ALBUM AGAIN. Sorry, but I will never wear a MAGA parody hat. I don’t care what it is. Even if there’s a one percent chance someone will mistake it for the real thing, that’s just not a risk I’m willing to take. So I left with no merch.
(Related: I have SELLOUT shirts available for only ten bucks in my store if you can’t afford the Swedish prices.)
Long live the Hives, etc.
Sparta/Geoff Rickly
I should get some sort of fucking tax break for having to drive to West Hollywood twice in three days but ayyy Jim Ward and Geoff Rickly at the Roxy. Two of the prominent guys from my book! I had to make the trip to say hello. Sparta played the entirety of Wiretap Scars, their debut album from 2002 and to be honest the only album of theirs I really know well. Jim spoke on stage about how he’d never planned to revisit this album because it came out of a painful time in his life but the personal stories about it that he’s heard from fans over the years changed his mind. He didn’t say it outright, but everyone knew what he meant by the painful time. It was the breakup of a band that rhymes with Shat the Drive-Shin. Wait, that actually made it sound much worse. Fuck, forget I said that. I feel extremely lucky Jim agreed to talk to me about those times for SELLOUT. Obviously he’s uncomfortable with the way things ended. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to open up about. But somehow he gave me the time of day and I appreciate it. Anyway, Wiretap Scars is still a solid album and really showcases what Jim brought to the table, musically.
And Geoff played a nice little solo set to open. His between-song storytelling has gotten really sharp and funny. This tour has been part opening slot, part door-to-door book-hocking for him. Geoff’s debut book, Someone Who Isn’t Me, will be released in July. (Listen to this interview I did with his insanely cool publisher Chelsea Hodson to learn more.) Slinging books is hard work. Unless you’re Cormac McCarthy, you can’t assume your publisher or agent is gonna do shit for you. You gotta run the groundwork game yourself. So Geoff and I swung by Book Soup so he could put in some face time with the staff there and hand them some postcards. Chelsea tells me she’s clearing her living room for a huge shipment of books this week, which means they’re coming soon. Support an indie publisher and author by ordering a copy from her!
‘68
OK now that I’ve said the obligatory nice things about the people I know (Geoff, you can just Venmo the $50), I have to give unsolicited props to a band to whom I owe absolutely nothing. This band ‘68 played between Geoff and Sparta and blew me away. I’d heard them on Spotify as one of the artists they recommended for me after (accurately) profiling me as “dumbass male loser who fuckin LOVES GUITARS.” This band is so fucking loud and noisy that I did not realize they were only a two-piece. If you get the chance to see them: Big-time recommend. A fucking blast.
Ed Templeton
If you’re anything like me, you watched Toy Machine’s Welcome to Hell on VHS so many times as a teenager that you could close your eyes and identify what trick was happening at any given moment based purely on the wheel noises. Toy Machine mastermind Ed Templeton was always one of my favorite skateboarders because he went against the grain in every sense. Even the way he dressed. He wore straight-leg Dickies with a wee bit of ankle showing while everyone else was rocking baggy cargo pants. Ed has amassed an awe-inspiring amount of work over the last few decades in the form of zines, books, and gallery shows. Sometimes when I need inspiration I just go to his website and spend an hour clicking around. He has a new book called Wires Crossed which he’s been touting as his life’s work, as it covers his time as a professional skateboarder, from 1992-2012. It’s an insanely impressive collection of photos, art, and journal entries. An incredible document of reckless youth culture—fireworks, nudity, injuries, police clashes. I identify a lot with Ed’s approach because, like him, I am also not a party guy but I have the compulsion to document the partying around me.
So I went to Ed’s signing at Arcana Books in Culver City or someplace like that. Not to brag or nothing, but I’ve signed a few books in my day. You’d think I would know how to act when I’m on the other side of the table, getting my book signed. But no. I handed Ed my book and said, “Big fan.” And then I just sort of stood there awkwardly. Very cool! Didn’t bother to think of anything interesting to say in the 10 minutes I was waiting in line or in the 25 years I’ve been following his work. I should also mention that Ed doesn’t just sign each book, he draws an original illustration in it. So I just stood there for several minutes while he sketched. Eventually I forced some small talk about Fugazi and we chatted about that for a bit. Ed is just a very kind, shy art nerd who made good on life by doodling weird little cartoons and riding his skateboard. The dream. What a goddamn inspiration.
Venice Beach Skatepark
Hey speaking of skateboarding, sometimes when I’m bored I drive over to Venice Beach and take photos of the skateboarders there. This is not weird. Lots of people do it and it’s normal. It’s not strange behavior for me, a grown man, to hang around glistening shirtless boys half my age and snap photos of them from the sidelines. Again, this is not weird. Anyway, here are two regular and normal photos I took over the weekend. Some guy pulled his little electric scooter thing onto the park and all the skaters took turns doing tricks over his head. I landed a perfect switch frontside 180 flip that cleared him by a good three feet but nobody got a pic unfortunately.
Jim Ruland/Derrick Brown/Chris Terry
I’ve been going to various readings around town lately. I’m tired from all this typing and don’t feel like recapping each one so you can just look at the photos goddammit but I did actually participate in one of them. I got asked to read some fiction at Stories in Echo Park. I don’t really write a lot of fiction, so I read a short story I published in a zine a few years ago. Those who have read it assume it’s fiction because it’s so deeply pathetic but it really happened to me, sadly. I get asked occasionally if I’m ever going to reprint that one and I just don’t think so. I just needed to get some fEeLiNgS out of my system at the time. I did however recently publish an incredibly stupid zine I have no emotional attachment to whatsoever and I will keep it in print for as long as people keep buying it.
Worriers
Not sure if I mentioned but I shot the cover of the new Worriers record, Warm Blanket. Actually, Lauren had a very specific vision for what they wanted. All I did was stand there and push the little button that makes the camera go click. But still, I pressed the shit out of it. They also roped me into taking some photos of them for whatever they’re currently working on but I don’t think I did what they were asking for but oh well win some lose some here it is anyway.
OK I think that’s it for now. Did you enjoy this? I hope so because I’ve been trying to compile a photo book, which also hinges on a completely asinine idea. Available later this year. Alright, well. I never know how to end these things. Bye.
All photos are copyright me. Do not use without permission. Thanks.
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