p. 4 February 27, 2019 | 34st.com
EOTW: Carlos Price-Sanchez
p. 15 Staying in Philly for Break
p. 20 Why 'Bao' Reminds Me of My Mom
Hispanic Girl. 'White' Music. Gray Area.
February february27, 2019 One Year Later: Recovering After Disappearing
4 EGO
EOTW: Carlos Price–Sanchez, Rita Powell, Jacob Linfesty
Annabelle Williams, Editor–in–Chief Dalton DeStefano, Managing Editor Daniel Bulpitt, Audience Engagement Director Lily Snider, Assignments Editor Ethan Wu, Media Director Sophie Burkholder, Word on the Street Editor Katie Bontje, Ego Editor Sam Kesler, Music Editor Eliana Doft, Special Issues Editor Meerie Jesuthasan, Long–Term Features Editor Angie Lin, Developing Features Editor Bella Fertel, Style Editor Maryanne Koussa, Film & TV Editor Josephine Cheng, Arts Editor Emma Boey & Sophia Dai, Photo Editors Tahira Islam & Katie Steele, Copy Editors Dean Jones & Jackson Parli, Video Editors Ben Zhao, Print Director Ego Beats: Amanpreet Singh, Michelle Shen, Sophie Xi, Caroline Emma Moore, Chelsey Zhu, Sonali Deliwala
7 MUSIC
Avril Lavigne, James Blake, Jazz, Philly Thru Songs, Lo-Fi
11 STYLE
Spring Break in Philly, South Philly Guide
LOL
12 FEATURE
I grew up loving Warped Tour and Taylor Swift, but I never felt welcome among their fans.
LOL 17 FILM & TV
'Paddington 2', 'Russian Doll' & 'Maniac', 'Bao'
21 ARTS
Tattoo Convention, Glee Club
LOL 23 OVERHEARDS 2
Paige Fishman, Chris Schiller Style Beats: Karin Hananel, Allie Shapiro, Jen Cullen, Alice Goulding, Diya Sethi, Hannah Yusuf Film & TV Beats: Anna Collins, Shriya Beesam, Shannon Zhang, Zovinar Khrimian, Calista Lopez, Ana Hallman, Samantha Sanders Arts Beats: Michelle Wan, Will Miller, Jess Araten, Katie Farrell, Adeleke McMillan Design Editors: Gillian Diebold, Lucy Ferry, Alice Heyeh, Jess Tan, Tamsyn Brann Associates: Dannie Watson, Joy Lee, Ian Ong, Jackie Lou, Donna Liu, Isabel Liang Staff Writers: Liz Kim, Jordan Waschman, Anjalee Bhuyan, Shunmel Syau, Bebe Hodges, Emma Harris, Tara OʼBrien, Jessica Bao, Mehek Boparai, Zoe Young, Sophia Schulz-Rusnacko, Alex Cook
Music Beats: Beatrice Forman, Arjun Swaminathan, Teresa Xie, Melannie Jay, Aleksei Kuryla, Johnny Vitale, Julia Davies, Paul Litwin
Illustrators: Anne Chen, Anne Marie Grudem, Brad Hong, Carly Ryan, Catherine Liang, Jake Lem, Reese Berman, Saranya Sampath, Jessi Olarsch, Christopher Kwok, Diane Lin, Jacqueline Lou, Sabrina Tian, Kathy Chang, Ben Joergens
Features Staff: Katrina Janco, Shinyoung Hailey Noh, Allison Wu, Srinidhi Ramakrishna, Caroline Riise,
Staff Photographers: Sophia Zhu, Eleanor Shemtov, Alice Deng, Hoyt Gong, Sukhmani Kaur, Mona Lee, Sally
Chen, Adiel Izilov, Christine Wu, Anran Fang Video Staff: Jean Chapiro, Christina Piasecki, Anab Aidid, Deja Jackson, Megan Kyne Copy Deputies: Sarah Poss & Kira Horowitz Copy Associates: Kate Poole, Serena Miniter, Erin Liebenberg, Lexie Shah, Carmina Hachenburg, Luisa Healey, Agatha Advincula Audience Engagment Associates: Brittany Levy, McKay Norton, Kat Ulich, Emily Gelb, Ryan McLaughlin, Valentina Escudero, Samantha Lee, Nadeen Eltoukhy, Fiorentina Huang, Rachel Markowitz, Julia Zhu Cover Illustration by Jake Lem Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Annabelle Williams, Editor–in–Chief, at williams@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com ©2019 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.) All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Wednesday.
"He's defintiely seen the machine elves."
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR A
t last week’s print production night, we got a text that sent the Daily Pennsylvanian office into shockwaves: Penn’s operations had been suspended for Wednesday, February 20. Our first — and possibly only — snow day of the year was here. I tried to be happy, and I was, to not have class, but I couldn’t help but clench my teeth at the thought of Street coming out a day late and inside the DP. (Side note: if you’re reading this letter, I really hope you picked up a copy last week too). That left me with a conundrum: all this time that I hadn’t planned for and wasn’t sure what to do with. I decided to hang out with some friends before they graduate, to take a nap, and to test the capacity of my space heater to not burn my house down. It’s the same for break: as a chronically anxious person who kind of hates group travel, I decided to forgo big plans in favor of a weekend trip to New York City and catching up on some doctor’s appointments. That brings up that same concern: time. Now that I’ve got a bit of it, I’m not quite sure what to do. My friend Sabrina suggested I take up a hobby. I guess laundry is also a strong contender, and I haven’t vacuumed my room in what feels like years. I could do enough Wharton Behavioral Labs to afford the trip to Trader Joe’s I’ve been planning to take.
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But I think what I really need is to just sit and decompress for a while. I’m lucky to have this time, and to be able to use it to step back from the hectic past few months. Whatever you’re doing over break, I hope you take some time to breathe too. And if you have a free second, subscribe to our newsletter: http://bit. ly/34sttoast.
Anne Chen | Illustrator
3 WORD ON THE STREET
WORD ON THE STREET
word on the
STREET
The most interesting thing about me is my eating disorder. Underwhelming, right? You probably thought that sentence was going to end with something about how I’ve travelled to all fifty states or have never broken a bone. I wish. The most interesting thing about me is a preoccupation with the food I eat, a cycle of damaging habits, and a fear of gaining weight. The most interesting thing about me is something I wish I didn’t have. Sitting in my room, box of Cheez–Its in hand, I’m reflecting on the past year. It was a year ago this week that I shared one of the most personal stories about myself: my 6–year struggle with my eating disorder. I never expected to share that part of myself with anyone, let alone the entire Street audience. For years, I had kept my compulsions under wraps, hiding behind oversized t–shirts and dinners with friends. I would lock myself in my room to scribble down calorie counts after running miles. I could never control the negative thoughts. I don’t know what it was that compelled me to write it. Was it my membership in Penn’s chapter of Project HEAL? A desire to write something outside of my journal? Was it a voice in my head longing to be free? It could have been my eating disorder’s craving to be the center of attention. Perhaps all of the above. Nonetheless, to say writing and sharing that piece was life–altering would be an understatement. In the days following its publication, sorority sisters, with whom I had previously exchanged only a few words, reached out to me. A friend from high school I had lost touch with remarked that she hadn’t realized my high school eating habits were a sign of a greater, more dangerous problem despite hav-
One Year Later: Recovering After Disappearing
Going public with my eating disorder a year ago changed the way I think about my identity.
——— By Kelly Porter ———
ing eaten lunch with me every day for a year. A student’s mom applauded my courage. The likes and love reacts poured in. To this day, it’s my most liked post. I’m not here to brag. I’m here because my story hasn’t ended. My recovery hasn’t been neatly wrapped up with a bow, all said and done now that I put myself
Being vulnerable with everyone meant being vulnerable with people I least wanted to be vulnerable with. The night before its publication, I had casually mentioned it to the guy I had been seeing for a month. When he asked what it was about, I hesitated, scared that if he knew my imperfection, he’d want nothing
peers. I am open to discussing how society prompts negative body image, and the steps we can take to discount stigmas. Despite this, my own mind hasn’t come to these realizations. My perfectionist mindset translates “the girl with the eating disorder” to “the girl with the flaw.” The cognitive dissonance is strong.
Isabel Liang | Illustrator out there. In fact, my story continues to be filled with chapters of highs and lows, with the happily–ever–after far in the distance. I’ve reached the chapter that I refer to as “recovery and discovery” (a cheesy name, but most treatment plans have one). Recovery because I’m seeking out treatment options, attending appointments with the SHS nutritionist, and confronting negative thoughts. Discovery because I discovered the benefits of being open, and that vulnerability feels good. I’ve realized my eating disorder is a manifestation of control; this chapter is about me regaining it. Writing “Wanting to Disappear Completely” last year drafted it.
to do with me. When I went home the next week for break, my mom asked me about it, saying she always had an inkling. My parents hadn’t known about my disorder before the piece’s publication, and I still didn’t want them to know about it. I shushed her when she brought it up, running up the stairs, and saying I’d be back down when the pizza arrived. It’s a conversation we have yet to have. But the biggest change of all was that I had to come to terms with being known as “the girl with the eating disorder.” I know there shouldn’t be anything wrong with suffering from a mental disorder, especially one that affects a good portion of my
As a body positivist, I speak of the necessity of practicing self– love and self–care. But, I don’t necessarily practice what I preach, often using negative language to describe myself when looking. As a black woman, I don’t fit the eating disorder stereotype, which is typically of a white woman. I’m not underweight, and I often ponder if people dismiss my eating disorder because it’s not at a grave state of sickly thin. I educate others on how to recognize signs and symptoms, but at the first opportunity, I feel so comfortable welcoming them back. “Numbers don’t mean anything,” I say. Meanwhile, I’ve been adding up the calories of my meal in my head. I decry the mass media’s praise of skinniness,
but I still stand in front of mirrors, pinching my stomach and eyeballing where my clothes hug. I tell my friends that their cravings for pizza and french fries are natural as I sip on another diet soda. How can I do all of this and tell others that they are beautiful in their own bodies? How can I do all of this and say I’m recovering? I don’t know what’s worse: feeling like I’m faking my disorder or faking my recovery. But I have a firsthand account of how this kind of disorder can impact someone’s life, and my experiences need to be shared, if only to validate the feelings of other sufferers. Yes, I may be “the girl with the eating disorder,” but I’m realizing that doesn’t mean it has to be my entire identity. I am a woman of color who feels strongly about body positivity. I am a sorority girl with a knack for thrift shopping and a passion for criminal justice. I am a fun–loving, embarrassing girl who likes to hang out with her cat. I am more than my eating disorder, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. This piece and the original one are evidence of my growth, from a girl who didn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel to a girl who wants to illuminate the complexities, the triumphs, and the difficulties of mental illnesses. So I’d like to revise my first statement: The most interesting thing about me is that I have the strength to talk about my eating disorder. I hope that’s whelming enough for you. CAPS 24-hour on-call clinician: 215-898-7021 National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) Helpline: 800931-2237 Crisis text line: text “NEDA” to 741741
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EGO
Ethan Wu | Media Director
34th Street Magazine: Why did you decide to come to Penn? Carlos Price–Sanchez: I only applied to one school, actually. I was super burnt out. I honestly wasn't even sure I wanted to go to college. My mom—she's super Cuban—so she's like, 'I want you to stay close.' She denies it now, but definitely wanted me to stay close. My dad worked at Penn, which is a huge benefit in terms of how much it would cost to come here. I applied to one school, took a year off between high school and college, and came here. Street: What did you do during your gap year? CPS: I worked a few odd jobs. I was a dishwasher, I sprayed all–natural pesticide— which doesn't make any fucking sense, right? It seems like an oxymoron, but it paid decently well. And then, the second half of the year I used that money to hike through England and Scotland. I was hiking for like 6 months through about half of England, all of Scotland, from border to border, the Isle of Skye, and then I spent some time in Paris. Street: Why did you decide to become an English major? CPS: It was what I was good at in high school—that was what came readily to me, that was sort of what I knew. I mean, I love to write. I came into college and I thought, all right, I'm going to go get my MFA right after this. That was sort of the plan. I’ve sort of bounced around since then. I played around with doing environmental science, but I have always enjoyed writing. And the English department here is really fantastic, I feel like it's overlooked and definitely should 4
YEAR: Senior HOMETOWN: Philadelphia, PA MAJOR: English ACTIVITIES: Penn Cultural Heritage Center, previously worked at Kelly Writers House, former Penn Program in the Environmental Humanities fellow
get props. So I'm an English major, but I knew I wanted to go to grad school, I just wasn't sure in what. Now, I'm doing my master's degree right now in International Educational Development. It ended up being the right place. Street: How has this work changed your outlook on life? CPS: My mom's side of the family, they emigrated from Cuba. So they were refugees from Cuba. My mom came when she was pretty young. I still have family there, I still have friends there, so I've always sort of identified with this refugee identity, and, at least culturally, it's something that is close to my heart. I think an often–overlooked method of addressing things like cultural trauma or things like PTSD, or a way of dealing with conflict, is education. I've always liked writing and now I'm moving into education and trying to figure out how they fit together. Street: When did you get involved with the Kelly Writers House? CPS: I got involved basically immediately. Al Filreis [the faculty director of KWH] is my advisor. He does an online course on modern poetry through Coursera and now through different platforms. I joined his team as a TA, I think that was first semester freshman year. That was an online course for people either in college, homeschooled, anywhere from 13 to 80 years old, who wanted to learn about modern and
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Ego of the Week Carlos Price–Sanchez on publishing a chapbook of poetrty, working with the Penn Cultural Heritage Center, and loving Van Pelt. By Amanpreet Singh
contemporary poetry. They've been really good to me at the Writer's House—they've supported my writing a lot. Street: How did you get involved with the Penn Cultural Heritage Center? CPS: I was taking masters courses to sort of test out what I wanted to sub matriculate into. I took this course on cultural destruction with Dr. Brian Daniels. I really loved the course and I reached out to him about wanting to get involved in any way that I could. So, he does a lot of research in Syria and Iraq on cultural destruction and so I kind of fell into it—I just sort of leaned into what felt right at the time. My big problem is that I like a lot of different things, but I focused on one thing that felt like it was finally important. I work at the Penn Cultural Heritage center, in conjunction with the Smithsonian Institution, doing research on cultural destruction. If somebody purposely or accidentally bombs a church, or a school, or something like that, we study that, record it, and put it into a big database. Street: What was it like publishing your own poetry? CPS: I remember coming in freshman year, I thought, alright, before I graduate, I want my own book published. Super ambitious, sort of naive. I worked with Laynie Browne, she's a professor here. She's been my mentor since freshman year. With her, I put together a collection of poems eventually titled Paper Waters and submitted it to a bunch of chapbook contests. I won the Quarterly West Chapbook Contest and they're going to publish it pret-
ty soon. I'm going to be doing a reading of it in March at AWP [Association of Writers & Writing Programs] which is the biggest creative writing conference in the States. Street: What is Paper Waters about? CPS: It’s a lot about cultural inheritance and making sense of my own background—coming from refugees and immigrants, and my dad’s family was here since the second boat to the States. And then in the background of all of that is climate change, and how we make sense of our cultural backgrounds or identities in a time where the world itself is changing. All of that is sort of mashed together in this book. Street: What was the process like? CPS: It happened kind of slowly, and then all of a sudden, all at once. I didn't set out thinking this is what I was going to write about, I just sort of had these poems that were
in production. As we were going along, Laynie and I, we could see these themes coming together, and ended up having a pretty coherent chapbook of about 30 pages. And at that point you just got to send it out. I've had a lot of rejections—lots and lots and lots and lots. And so the advice I always give to writers is just don't be afraid of it, don't take it personally. Sometimes it really is just that it isn't right at the time. I applied to Quarterly West, just to get published in the regular magazine, like a month before, and they rejected me, and then I won their chapbook contest. A lot of it is just taking that step. Street: Do you have anything else to add? CPS: My girlfriend wanted me to give her a shout out. Her name is Katherine Wu. She's great—lovely. This interview has been edited and condensed.
LIGHTING ROUND If you have to write an autobiography what would the title be? Oh, fuck. Um, that can be the title. If you were going to be a building on campus which one would you be? Oh VP. I love VP. I think I can only work in places that are super depressing. And so I love VP, I spend so much time there. What is one place on your travel bucket list? New Zealand. I'd love to hike in New Zealand. What is your favorite book? Right now I read and re–read Eduardo C. Corral’s Slow Lightening. It is a book of poems that has heavily inspired my style. There are two types of people at Penn... Those who get drunk on Thursdays, and those who don't. Your house is burning and you can only save one thing. What do you save? Oh my cat. For sure. My lovely cat Maika.
EGO
Promoting in at Penn with Dr. Rita Powell Powell on working towards gender equity in Penn's CIS department By Sonali Deliwala According to the Women in Computer Science (WICS) Census of 287 students in the Computer and Information Science (CIS) department last year, 55 percent of females in the CIS major at Penn believed that their gender "unfairly contributed to [their] acceptance to Penn Engineering." According to that same survey, 54 percent of all females "have been/felt judged or micro–aggressed for studying Computer Science based on [their] race, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexual orientation," and 55 percent of females in CIS "feel intimidated studying Computer Science/Engineering." While these statistics may seem disheartening, Rita Powell, Director of Diversity and Belonging for the CIS department, urges students to look at these numbers in context. She recalls that 15 years ago, in 2004, only 18 percent of the CIS department consisted of women. Today, 33 percent of CIS majors are female, including the Digital Media Design (DMD) and Networked & Social Systems Engineering (NETS) programs. A major with historically low inclusion rates across the country, Penn has steadily been working towards a more diverse student body for CIS. The rise in diversity in recent years has been a collective effort on the part of faculty, students, and staff. Powell has spearheaded many of these initiatives. She worked as the Manager of the CIS Department for 15 years, and for the past two years has been the Director for Diversity and Belonging. Throughout
her time at Penn, the inclusion rates for women and minorities have spiked, climbing higher each year. But Powell notes that the "effort for women gathered a lot of momentum" in the early 2000's. "When I studied in the MBA program at Temple, I was the only woman in my finance class. It made me extremely anxious. But I got through it, and went on to work at Atlantic Richfield," Powell says. "In the entire sales force, I was the only woman. And it happened at a time when Ronald Reagan had championed affirmative action in the workforce for women in the 70s and early 80s." But the massive gender gap that Powell faced as a woman in the business world didn't discourage her. "It made me want to do it more," she says, her voice ringing with tenacity. Powell began working as Manager of the CIS department at Penn in 2002 when she was also studying for a doctorate in education at Penn's Graduate School of Education. "A lot of those thoughts from my past came back to me," Powell recalls when she first entered the department, which she says had very little diversity at the time. She decided to title her thesis, "Sundials in the Shade: a Study of Women’s Persistence in the First Year of an Undergraduate Computer Science Program in a Selective University." This was the turning point whereup-
on Powell became "totally passionate" about bringing minorities into computer science. Powell spoke to female CIS students during their midterm season, organizing study sessions for them. "We kind of stirred them up," Powell admits, because "a lot of the time, people don't realize that they can demand more, or expect more, until they hear it from someone else." Within two years of Powell's job, her female students formed the Women in Computer Science Club, a major victory for the department. Powell was overjoyed that her students were so self–motivated to congregate on their own. For her doctorate, Powell interviewed 15 female students in the fall semester of CIS 120, an introductory computer science course, in her "qualitative,
ethnographic dissertation." According to Powell, "there weren't enough students to do statistics." "And half of the students I interviewed," and Powell pauses for a moment, "dropped." Of the 15 female students in a class of 75, seven of them did not continue with the major. "Because of those results, I was really determined to try to make a difference for incoming women in the major. " "We have to acknowledge our implicit biases, and check them," she says, "Human beings are wired to not really like oddities; we're most comfortable around people like us." Powell's confidence in the strategy of her programming is founded upon her confidence in students. "It's all in the head," she explains. "People are uncomfortable, nervous, anxious—it's all part of stereotype threat that impedes people from doing well, because they're diverted in their focus from the academics." The stereotype threat refers to the fear that one will fall in line with others' expectations of oneself, or rather, the stereotypical expectation of oneself. "I experienced this myself, in that finance class: you're so anxious that you can't focus on the work. You focus on yourself. On the anxiety."
She cites research done at UT Austin, which found that students who merged their social lives with academics performed better in school. Powell strongly recommends that STEM majors not isolate themselves from their peers in their classes. Over the past two years, as the percentage of women in computer science has reached a third of students in the major, Powell has begun to focus on underrepresented minorities, predominantly black, Latinx, and low– income students. Powell is involved in outreach and the development of programs, including coding clubs in West Philadelphia schools. She is also a mentor for WICS Board, facilitates sending minority students to prestigious conferences, and helps organize the annual Diversity Summit to discuss inclusion in the computer science department. Powell says that she and her colleagues have a goal to make the CIS department the same proportion of women and minorities as the rest of the university. "We have a long way to go," Powell admits. "But we're getting there with women. It really makes you think, you know, that if we all work together, we can do it."
Emma Boey | Illustrator F E B R U A R Y 27 , 2 01 9 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E
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Penn Band President Bleeds Red and Blue—And He Plays It Too
This sophomore discusses how having a creative outlet has transformed his college experience. By Chelsey Zhu Ethan Wu | Media Director
The Penn Band: you might have heard them scrambling across the football field, playing on College Green during convocation, or blasting the Mario theme song down Locust Walk. With marching drums and red and blue striped polos, this club boasts around 130 members and is hard to miss at Penn. And for its president, Jacob Linfesty (C’21), the band is as much a part of his Penn identity as the LOVE statue or the Quaker mascot.
As a high school senior, Jacob knew it was important for the college he chose to have a fun and committed band. A saxophone player since the 5th grade, he actively participated in jazz band throughout high school. When he was thinking about applying to Penn, he watched videos of the Penn Band performing, and he quickly fell in love. He wrote about the band in his college application essay, and he even met with a former drum major as a prospective student.
The club’s open, fun–loving attitude impressed Jacob the most. Unlike most organizations on campus, the Penn Band doesn’t require an application, audition, experience, or mandatory attendance for any events. Anyone can join— even if you don’t know how to play an instrument. “I knew that if I came here, then I would have that group that I’d be a part of that would be my Penn family,” he says. For Jacob, family is exactly what the band became. As he
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navigated freshman year, he attended rehearsals, played at football and basketball games, and went to the band’s social events. These experiences introduced him to many of his closest friends, including his current roommates. He credits the band’s close-knit culture and quirky traditions for being able to bring the group together. Everyone knows the school’s unofficial alma mater, “The Red and Blue,” by heart. Being in the band was so rewarding that Jacob was always looking for more ways to get involved. Second semester of freshman year, he rose in the ranks to become the saxophone section leader, a position he held until he was elected president for the 2019 spring semester. As president of one of the largest organizations on campus, Jacob manages communications between individual sections, rallies members for performances, and works with other band leaders to plan fun events. Even though every performance is optional, members are ready to play at as many as 100 events during the year. Jacob believes that people show up to play precisely because they aren’t required to. He says that Penn Band helps to fight against the pressure people feel to spend all their time engaged in academic or preprofessional activities.
“Having the opportunity to go play in band, mess around with your friends, and make some music, or perform in a dance troupe or a theater group, it can be a lot of fun,” he says. “A lot of students, especially in band, do it just for the opportunity to do something other than the usual academic activities.” He’s eager to highlight the importance of performing arts groups at Penn, especially the benefit of having a designated creative space in the Platt Student Performing Arts House. “Having Platt House, being able to come here just to talk and do this interview, and having our own band room, I think it’s such a great opportunity,” Jacob says. “If we didn’t have this kind of atmosphere on campus, I think I’d have a significantly different college experience.” As we talk, I see what he means. We’re sitting in the Platt lobby, a large open space with comfy couches and splashes of blue and orange color. An upbeat piano melody soars through the air from a practice room, accompanying the vibrato of an opera singer. The sound of other conversations hums softly in the background. For Jacob, just being in Platt, surrounded by music, gives him a feeling that can’t be replicated anywhere else on campus.
MUSIC
Avril Lavigne’s 'Head Above Water': Very, Very Mediocre ARJUN SWAMINATHAN Avril Lavigne has been around for a while—international hits such as “Complicated” and “Girlfriend” came over a decade ago, and the singer was dubbed the “Pop Punk Queen” for her music and fashion style as she dominated the charts. Until Head Above Water came out on Feb. 15, Lavigne hadn’t released a record since her self–titled album in 2013, an up–tempo, pop–rock collection that was relatively well–received but criticized by some for overusing rebellious tropes. Head Above Water comes a few years after the singer’s diagnosis with Lyme disease, which inspired the album that she described on Twitter as "an emotional journey.” But does the album actually manage to reach that standard and serve as a proper comeback for the now 34–year–old? The answer is a hard, unequivocal no. The album starts off well with its titular single. “Head Above Water” is a piano– driven ballad that shares Lavigne’s prayers to God to help her overcome the disease. The track is inspirational and has you singing along by the end as the singer expresses her defiance towards the pain she faced. However, the rest of the album is largely a steady decline. “Birdie," “I Fell in Love with the Devil," and “Tell Me It’s Over” cover a toxic relationship. By the end, Lavigne emphasizes being strong and ending unhealthy partnerships, which is an impactful message—but the music itself starts to become repetitive and bland. The singer has a habit of starting songs with a slow, light intro before entering a sudden, loud chorus that
The pop singer shares a few important messages, but the music itself falls flat.
comes across as jarring and cringe–worthy. The next piece, “Dumb Blonde," is a welcome respite that feels like a punk throwback to the insubordinate 2000s—Lavigne as she emphasizes female empowerment with the help of a slick Nicki Minaj verse. “It Was in Me” focuses on the value of self–esteem and recognizing that one chooses their own answers regarding life. It’s a beautiful idea, but the track becomes tedious and overextends itself unnecessarily. The second half is full of the same problems that plagued the early portion of the album. “Souvenir,” “Crush,” and “Goddess” are more acoustic in nature, but serve as uninteresting dissections of the singer’s love life. There’s not much to say about the songs besides that—Lavigne’s lyrics sound as if they’re straight from any random pop album released in the last twenty years, entirely lacking any modicum of creativity. Speaking of unimaginative, “Bigger Wow” takes the cake—it’s impossible to even gauge the point of the song, which is supposed to be about living one’s best life but is instead full of random imagery and Lavigne’s desire for a “bigger wow"—whatever that’s supposed to mean. The penultimate song, “Love Me Insane,” is similar to the earlier trio of romance tracks, although it’s more sweet and soulful, and therefore listenable. Lastly, the singer finishes (and saves) Head Above Water with the concluding “Warrior.” Returning to the theme of her battle with Lyme Disease, Lavigne’s vocals and lyrics shine as she
Yun Jie Dai | CC by 2.0
paints herself as a tireless fighter that is “steadier than steel” and “won’t break.” The piano and strings meld beautifully together as well. It makes one wonder why the rest of the album couldn’t have been similar. Head Above Water is an album you listen to once, but probably not again. Lavigne shares essential messages of empowerment, self–love, and tenacity in the face of adversity, but the songs become monotonous and dull. The record does have its highlights, with the opening and closing tracks as well as “Dumb Blonde” standing out in particular. Still, there’s very little to appreciate besides that. If you aren’t a die–hard fan of the singer, you can probably skip this one.
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James Blake Gives a Chilling Performance at the Fillmore 2 0 1 9 L E V I N F A M I LY D E A N ’ S F O R U M
Blake's concert goes beyond just a listening experience.
TERESA XIE
Art and Politics, From Graphic to Cinema A Conversation With Marjane Satrapi BEST SELLING ARTIST/ILLUSTRATOR, FILMMAKER & AUTHOR
THURSDAY, MARCH 14 , 2019 • 4:30 P. M . DOORS OPEN AT 4 P.M.
Annenberg Center for Performing Arts, Zellerbach Theatre 3680 Walnut Street, Philadelphia MARJANE SATRAPI, creator of the graphic novels Persepolis and Chicken With Plums
and director of their film adaptations, as well as the movies The Voices and the upcoming Radioactive, will discuss her art and how politics has been threaded through it over the years.
SAS.UPENN.EDU for tickets and information
@PennSAS
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The lights dim at the Fillmore, and the packed crowd cheers, “Blake!” as a tall, looming figure appears from foggy smoke on stage. Idly, he sits on the piano bench with no introduction, not even a wave or a smile. The running of piano notes that open the song “Assume Form” seem to be conjured out of thin air. The crowd goes silent, letting Blake’s melodies fill the space. On Friday, February 23rd, James Blake performed at The Fillmore as part of his North American tour for his most recent album, Assume Form. The energy at a James Blake concert is comparable neither to that of a frenetic rap performance nor that of a mellow, acoustic set. Rather, there’s only one word that can be used to describe it: chilling. From the second Blake stepped on stage to the moment he walked off, the audience was in awe. In the first half of his set, Blake remained at the piano within the shadows. His music could not only be heard through his piercing voice, but it could also be seen through changing lights and felt through deep bass notes that made your heart pulse. His song “Life Round Here” wasn’t just a mix of electronic piano notes and humming lyrics as it is on the album, but it was instead a combination of flashing, smoky white lights and electronic synthesizers projected with a force that made the ground shake. Through fading beats slowly out of songs, Blake seamlessly transitioned from one track to the next. The most vulnerable performance of the night was Blake’s rendition of “Love Me in Whatever Way” from his album The Color in Anything, which was released in 2017. In the spotlight stands Blake and
his mic, with no more than a few inches between the two. A painful, nostalgic air is attached to each word as Blake takes his time between phrases. With the venue filled only by his voice, he pleads, “Where you leave me, I will go,” . The presence of electronic sounds are almost nonexistent, making Blake’s performance seem even more personal. Blake’s live performance of his album Assume Form is particularly interesting in its large number of featured musicians; he collaborated with artists from Andre 3000 to Travis Scott. How would Blake perform these songs without their featured artists? Instead of taking these songs out of his concert set, he modifies them in a way that emphasizes the electronic beats and synthesizers. In Blake’s performance of “Where’s The Catch?” he elongates the repetitive piano intro by playing it on a loop that increasingly gets more dramatic. Instead of playing Andre 3000’s featured section in the middle of the song, he leaves it to the very end to close off the track. Andre’s voice booms over the speakers as the lights change colors and Blake nods his head to the beat onstage, as if listening to it for the first time. He gives these artists the credit and appreciation they deserve while also putting a twist onto his own segments of the song. James Blake’s live performance clarifies who he is as an artist and a creator. It becomes clear that for Blake, music isn’t just sound but rather a mix of sensations that are seen, heard, and felt. He takes the concert and turns it on his head, playing with different forms of his song creations and pushing the boundaries of what it means to really feel music in your core.
Where
MUSIC
Did Jazz Go?
is for her in- Club or reminisce the rhythms "when really, if people just took novation— of Buddy Rich. It is her inno- it for what it was and engaged from bring- vation itself which grants her a with it as an aesthetic art form, ing bass home in the niche of jazz icons. they’d be able to appreciate it— into popular In terms of jazz’s image to- whatever that means." A look at how the once–wildly–popular genre has evolved over time. Elitism in jazz has spurred the music to her day in popular culture, Broess intimately believes it has evolved dramati- idea that “jazz is dying,” a conMEHEK BOPARAI versation dissected in Damien heartfelt lyricism. One who cally across history. At four in the afternoon, fied and spread out. The closest is well–versed in jazz’s history In the early to mid– Chazelle's 2016 hit La La Land. students stream into the Star- that you would come to a core would recognize that a lot of twentieth century, part Many do not realize that perbucks below 1920 Commons. in jazz is its origins in New Or- inspiration behind her dis- of its immediate boom i n petuating this notion is detriMuffled by orders of cold brews leans in the 1910s—as soon as cography is attached to a popularity was because Ameri- mental, and is pushing the genre creamed with coconut milk and cans claimed the genre as their out of relevancy more than ever. toffee syrup, “Take Five” croons most unadulterated art amidst Just because jazz continues to softly through the speakers on the constant pressure for patrio- survive through musicians and this late February Friday. The tism. As it has developed and coffee–shop music connoisseurs weekend slips by and soon, been incorporated into other doesn’t mean others cannot, and teenagers trudge along the secgenres such as hip–hop and should not, engage with it. ond floor of Fisher–Bennett So, is jazz disappearing? The R&B, the need for conservation Hall, where the sticky–sweet short answer is no—we just becomes apparent. melody of “In the Mood” play"Pure jazz"—the sector as- aren't looking hard enough. ing through an open office door sociated with the crystallized Go out there and give the alleviates Monday’s somber Swing Era and legends such as genre a try, either by visiting atmosphere. Jazz music—esFrank Sinatra—has acquired one of Penn’s premiere perforpecially in settings teeming an elitist, highbrow image. Au- mances (such as those of Penn with life such as a university thoritarians of this trope believe Jazz Combos), skipping the campus—often does not beg only those who are well–versed next party to check out one of to be listened to. It instead fills in its history and highlights can Philadelphia’s best jazz joints, or the cracks where silence doesn't truly claim the genre. “That even just streaming artists like suffice and other genres do not barrier to entry is, I think, sort Snarky Puppy or Ella Fitzgerfit. However, the space it once of artificial and constructed ald on Spotify. Broess and other inhabited was vast. through this idea that jazz is professors teach us that jazz was Chris Kwok | Illustrator In a musical canon satuthe past. Ryan Gosling preaches high art form that necessirated with “yuh's" from Ari- you move past that, you start strand leading straight into in La La Land that jazz is the tates some cerebral conana Grande and neon–colored to have diverse styles popping New Orleans. Her sound itself, nection and some intelfuture. But we must also realize EDM melodies, what once was up and people playing differ- however, does not call listeners lectual invasion before you that jazz is the present, and play America’s idea of cultured fun ent music under the category back to the floors of the Cotton can actually get it," says Broess, it louder than ever. has changed drastically. Night- of jazz.” This idea of a genre clubs booming with bossa novas being an umbrella term is more and big band charts occupied aligned with music as an art weekends now filled with base- form than we recognize. Artists ment–party pop songs. Records do not—and probably should etched with the sound waves of not—create music to adhere to Billie Holiday’s heartfelt ballads one specific genre. It is the overExp.2/23/12 4/11/12 Exp. have been overtaken by streams lap of styles that characterizes an For Fast Delivery Call 215-386-1941 of Billie Eilish. This raises the artist, in a manner similar to the question of how today’s genera- way we characterize our music tion allowed jazz to slip out of tastes with varying playlists popular culture. In short: and favorites. 4004 chestnut street | (215) 386-1941 Where did jazz go? Jazz has done the same; it According to Erik has evolved and permeated Exp.2/23/12 4/11/12 Exp. Broess, a second–year gradu- various areas in a way almost ate student at Penn’s Music unrecognizable. “Whatever For Fast Delivery Call 215-386-1941 Department, it has not disap- constellation of factors, whether peared; we just have to look it’s an approach or style that we closer. He teaches "Jazz: Style consider jazz, I think that will and History" and often brings exist whether or not it's called up in class discussions the ques- jazz,” says Broess. He goes on to WITH THIS AD tion of the genre’s disappear- mention Esperanza Spalding, a VALID UNTIL 2/28/19 ance: “Historically, as jazz has Grammy–winning artist who progressed each generation, it NPR deemed a modern jazz gestudent discount with I.D. | order online @ newdelhiweb.com | closed mondays Exp.2/23/12 4/11/12 Exp. becomes more and more strati- nius. A lot of praise she receives
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MUSIC
Songs that mention Philly locations from South Street to U. City When thinking of cities with songs about them, New York is the first to come to one's "Empire State of Mind," followed of course by the selection of West Coast cities available for "California Dreaming." But the punk, hip hop, and indie rock artists of Philadelphia have embraced their hometown's quirky charm and turned it into songwriting fuel. While outsiders like Elton John ("Philadelphia Freedom") and even North Jersey's Bruce Springsteen ("Streets of Philadelphia") can attempt to catch the spirit, it takes hometown troublemakers like Mischief Brew and the Fresh Prince to guide listeners on a tour of the real Philly. If you're coming from Connecticut, New Jersey resident and children's book author Sandra Boynton (along with Philly folk duo the Bacon Brothers)
Melannie Jay
Ben Joergens | Illustrator
recommend taking the I–95 to East River Drive to see some swing–dancing "Philadelphia Chickens." If poultry with rhythm aren't your thing, then alt hip hop group G. Love & Special Sauce are here to say that
"the only way to go is I–76." G. Love and crew provide driving instructions to Fishtown via I–95 and Center City on the 676 as well, for all your Philly driving needs. For those more inclined to-
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wards public transportation, the Scranton–based punk band The Menzingers still miss the girl that they met at "Tasker–Morris Station" on the Broad Street Line. Meanwhile, on the song "Beat Up Guitar," the Hooters write a song at "Kensington Station" (most likely Allegheny Station on the Market–Frankford Line, which stops at the intersection of Kensington and Allegheny Avenues, as Kensington Station does not exist) for a girl who lives on Vine Street. The Hooters and The American Dream remind listeners, however, that you "Can't Get To Heaven on the Frankford El." South Street and its rich alternative heritage have been the focus of several Philly–based songs, starting with R&B group The Orlons' 1963 "South Street," proclaiming it "the hippest street in town." Once there, The Dead Milkmen recommend finding a "Punk Rock Girl" at Crash Bang Boom, formerly known as Zipperhead, and taking her to the Philly Pizza Company. Now that the Company in question closed, Lorenzo and Son's at 305 South St. isn't a bad alternative. South Street might not be for everyone, though: Adam Goren,
better known by his stage name Atom and His Package,"beg[s] Mayor Rendell and the cops on the street / To have mercy on me and Jen and please blow up South Street."Goron's recommendation is LOVE Park, also known as John F. Kennedy Plaza. Lansdale pop punk band The Wonder Years have little love for South Philly as a whole: their sophomore LP The Upsides, written in lead singer Dan Campbell's Manton Street house in Point Breeze, features a song called "It's Never Sunny in South Philadelphia." While Campbell admits on "Everything I Own Fits in This Backpack" that he's "not fond of South Philly ... [but] I guess it's better than Bancroft Street," the two places of hope on The Upsides are the fountain in "Logan Square" and "Washington Square Park." On the Penn side of the Schuylkill, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince are there to reminisce in "Summertime" about the beauty of the Belmont Plateau, "a place ... where everybody goes." "Lancaster Avenue Blues" by Mischief Brew, meanwhile, remember a West Philly before the "Univer-City banners came." Rather than summer in Fairmount, they remember a punkier neighborhood in the days before Penntrification. Of course, if you don't have a car and SEPTA is just too unreliable, if South Street seems too far away and the new West Philly looks nothing like what The Fresh Prince or Mischief Brew say, there exists one song that captures the Philadelphia spirit, and every Penn student's experience, like no other: Chris Gethard and Mal Blum's "Crying at the Wawa," because "sometimes you gotta cry in public, even if it makes a bunch of people in a Wawa really uncomfortable."
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– o L '
s t T a o e S B t p u o d H y / Re l a – p i H if
x To '
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Meme to Popular Music Subgenre Where did the phenomenon start, and where is it headed? Julia Davies
Chris Kwok | Illustrator
If you search “lo–fi hip hop beats to study/relax to,” you’ll come across several 24–hour live streams of ambient hip–hop beats often paired with calming and cute visuals. Starting as an underground phenomenon, this hip–hop subgenre has emerged in the past year, gained popularity and influenced the genre as a whole. Two of the most popular channels—Chillhop Music and ChilledCow—each have over two million subscribers and thousands of people tuned in at any given moment. Crossing over from Youtube, Spotify’s “Lo–Fi Beats” playlist has nearly four hours of “Beats to relax and focus” and over one million followers. Other music platforms like SoundCloud and Pandora are starting to be populated by similar playlists, gaining lo–fi hip–hop’s legitimacy as both a concentration tool and music genre. In early 2018—as these lo–fi hip–hop channels started to gain popularity—people on Twitter joked about “lo–fi hip–hop beats to study/relax to,” which quickly became a meme among the social media platform’s users. There’s a certain quirkiness to
the streams with their anime visuals and long, highly specific titles which make them so easy to parody and joke about. However, it’s hard to deny that this genre is perfect to study and relax to. While many people use classical music as their go–to background music, lo–fi hip–hop beats have a similar calming quality to them. There’s rarely any vocals—sometimes songs will sample just a single line from a classic movie at whisper volume. Without lyrics, the music isn’t distracting, but it’s not boring either. There’s a strong musicality to the tracks, with soft beats and rhythms that often draw on jazz and blues. Most of these tracks feature light piano–playing, soft drum taps, strums of string instruments, and muted synthetic sounds. The end result is some of the most stress–relieving music around. There’s not much distinction between each track, but that’s one of the reasons lo–fi playlists serve as the perfect background noise for students studying. “Hip–hop” is a bit of a misnomer, as the subgenre draws more from R&B, jazz, and soul than
it does rap. On its own, lo–fi hip–hop is complete, legitimate, and refined, but when paired with R&B it truly takes its form. Lo–fi hip–hop’s influence can be
heard in the music of progressive R&B artists like Choker, Mac Ayres, and Raveena. Kendrick Lamar's album for Black Panther drew heavily on this music style,
especially on the tracks “All the Stars” and “The Ways". Given its strong influence, it’s about time we give lo–fi hip–hop the credit it deserves.
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Hispanic Girl. ‘White’ Music. Gray Area. I grew up loving Warped Tour and Taylor Swift, but I never felt welcome among their fans. By Beatrice Forman Photos by Ethan Wu
I
t is the summer of 2016, I am fifteen and, like everyone else who has ever traversed through adolescence, I am knee–deep in an emo phase. My playlists cycle through the same artists who comprise the emo canon—My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco—and I beg my parents for Warped Tour tickets with desperate fervor. I mold myself to fit the stereotype of the misunderstood teenager so well, save for one detail: I am Hispanic, and Hispanic girls aren’t allowed to like punk music. I remember learning this while I sat on the scorching sidewalk of Manhattan’s 15th St., awaiting a coveted front row spot at a Modern Baseball concert. Thoughtful yet unequivocally badass, this band represented everything I wanted to be as a poser punk: cool, introspective, and effortless. Even now, three years later, I can still feel the mounting anticipation of those two and half hours spent in front of Irving Plaza and the dedication that pooled, like sweat, on the necks and foreheads of myself and my two Sharon Zea friends, a pair of suburban Hispanic girls with hidden Rincon (C ‘21) punk affinities. We were ready to prove our worthiness, to claim our spot in a fandom populated by people just like us. Only, at the time, we didn’t realize that spot wasn’t ours to claim. At some point in our waiting, a journalist emerged from a sleek, black Jeep and began interviewing members of the pre–show crowd about why they love Modern Baseball, about the band’s influence, and about their perceptions of pop–punk’s new frontier. This should
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She guessed that her tastes arose from adapting to white spaces have been my moment—I was first in like her school and the areas around it. But rather than feeling out line, outfitted in the standard careless of place in the white dominated world of whiny indie, Sharon feels concert–going outfit of a white tee, most "like an outsider within the Hispanic community." Sharon and black shorts, and Converse, and full I represent two sides of the same coin, with our tastes separating of opinions about everything. But the us from some of the things we want to love most. For her, it's the interviewer passed over my friends culture she grew up in. For me, it's the music communities I still and me like we were invisible, part of a null background. Nothing differenti- want to belong to. Jacob Brown (C ‘22), a half–black student, faces a similar chalated us from the trail of girls behind us, save for one thing: their porcelain skin lenge. Worshipping at the altar of canonical indie bands like The blistered in the New York City sun and Strokes and Arctic Monkeys, he realized that this music isn't exactly made for him. He defines ‘white people music’ as "stuff that speaks ours tanned. We were not white, and to white experiences." thus, we were not punk Now, I’m no stranger to the contours of “white people” music. I This feeling of blistering exclusion, of bolded otherness, isn't uncommon. spent my formative years memorizing Taylor Swift lyrics instead As a person of color, it often feels like of multiplication tables, reciting Ed Sheeran trivia with embarrassthe music industry doesn't absorb me ing accuracy, and developing a penchant for indie bands filled with and the communities I belong to into pastiches of Brooklyn–hipster types. I’ve been the Hispanic fangirl its widening folds. Whether enveloped at nearly every concert I’ve ever attended, always aware of some in the crowd at a concert or blaring implicit rule about who can and can’t listen. music alone in our rooms, some peoI claim this uniqueness as part of my identity, ple of color feel like our music tastes glossing over the stereotype–tinged shock my are something we stumbled upon in spite of a world that pushes us first boyfriend had when I told him, “I don’t toward hip–hop, reggaeton, and anything but "white people mureally listen to hip–hop.” I conditioned sic." Now, being a super–fan comes with monetary expectations: myself to feel comfortable in implicitly buying the most merch, getting floor seats at concerts, or shelling white–only spaces, using obsession out hundreds for a meet and greet. And as fandom becomes coded to legitimize my spot in fandoms along socio–economic and racial lines, these communities begin to associated with middle class, white feel exclusionary. childhood. I didn’t develop an encySharon Zea Rincon (C ‘21), a Hispanic student and the host clopedic knowledge of Taylor Swift’s of WQHS' Some Milky Shit, best describes her go–to genre as girl squad or create conspiracy theories "moany indie music." "It wasn't until I got to Penn that I met people about Lorde’s secret romances because I of color who liked the same genre of music as I did," said Sharon, wanted to. I did it because I thought I had to. mentioning that indie genres are dominated by white and straight Jacob Brown Maya Patel (C ‘22) identifies as Indian– (C ‘22) artists. Growing up in West PhilaAmerican, and carries this same burden. A feldelphia while attending a private low Swiftie, we quickly bonded over a lifelong school teeming with affluence, infatuation with epic love songs, vanilla– Sharon remembered that the tinted fantasies, and Swift's brand as only classmates who un"America's everygirl." Our entire derstood her music were conversation took on a subtle white. tinge of competition, with us "My brothers were listing the fandom dramas We were not white, and always on me, like, 'Sharon, why don't thus, we were not punk. you listen to more reggaeton or hip– hop?'" Sharon says, "all of my friends from home were like, 'You're white now. You listen to white music. What's going on?'"
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we witnessed firsthand with stunning accuracy. It was almost as if we were both 14 and addicted to Tumblr again, trying to prove to the other blogs that we were more dedicated than the rest. Maya wants to preserve her relationship with Swift, even if it’s one that no longer feels as natural as it did a decade ago. Maya tells a nostalgia– tinted story about seeing the Reputation World Tour at Metlife Stadium last summer. She mentions looking out at the crowd between songs and feeling somewhat underrepresented within the predominantly white audience, but ultimately ignoring it. "I definitely put on rose– colored glasses in that moment. It didn't matter because Taylor was on stage, singing to me." Maya was able to appreciate the concert in spite of feeling like she was one of the only people of color in the space. I've felt that way too. But newsflash: the burden of representation shouldn’t fall on impressionable young fans. We aren’t here to fill a diversity quota, and we don’t have to justify our preferences. We’re just here to listen to music. And to
allow for that, artists must commit to inclusivity. How can they do that? Namely, by redefining what it means to be a fan. Fanaticism is quickly becoming the survival of the richest, with fans who lack economic stability treated like the casual listener. In a society where white families have nearly ten times the wealth of black families, this distinction feels discriminatory. It feels as though artists are homogenizing their fanbases to include those who fit the profile—rich, independent, and by happenstance, white. Leading up to her Reputation World Tour, Swift released tickets on a tiered basis, with more “committed” fans getting a crack at early releases. Swift defined commitment monetarily, with the amount of money spent on official merch determining your spot in the queue. In other words, fans with the socioeconomic stability to buy Reputation 13 times or shell out $60 for a tacky, snake–shaped ring were prioritized over those who could only afford to stream Swift’s free YouTube videos.
ing. The 1975 romanticize the nomadic fan, the type of listener who can afford to shelve her life for a tour cycle. Compared with 12% of white college graduates, 21% of Hispanic grads will default on student loan debt, making the idealized image of the unburdened groupie seemFanaticism is quickly ingly unbecoming the survival
Meanwhile, The National, one of the rare indie bands with more than a decade of relevance, runs a membership–based fan club in which members pay fifty dollars per year for limited–edition vinyls, exclusive content, and priority ticket-
of the richest, with fans who lack economic stability treated like the casual listener.
Maya Patel (C ‘22)
feasible. So much of the teenage experience is marked by the
desire to be let in, to be included in something
bigger than high school cliques. Fandoms provide the pathway for this kind of acceptance, and it could dishearten young listeners of color to see themselves systemically prohibited from accessing small joys, like listening to your favorite artist’s new song on the day it’s released. That’s just part of the reason why I’ve never really felt welcome in these indie and punk spaces, from arena concerts to Tumblr fan blogs. In order to be inclusive, musicians need to revert to the old criterion for fanaticism—dedication. Rather than rewarding listeners who have the means to mindlessly click an “Add to Cart” button, musicians should reward the listener who has embedded the best parts of their catalog into their identities. These fans aren’t always the white, suburban, wealthy teens that so often fill up the fields of Coachella VIP seating areas. These are the fans who wait in line for hours through sweltering urban heat, pirate music off of YouTube in secret, and treat even the most mundane of merch like it’s a collectible. I know because I'm one of them.
Beatrice Forman is a freshman in the College. She is a music beat for Street. 1 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E F E B R U A R Y 27 , 2 01 9
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The Top Five Things to do in Philly Over Spring Break Turn the tables and give the beach–goers FOMO. Sophia Schulz–Rusnacko Staying in Philly over break? No fear, Street has compiled the top five activities, festivals, and events to cure your boredom. Get out of your comfort zone and explore the city without having to worry about midterms anymore.
Philly Craft Beer Festival Beer lovers, rejoice! For $46, you can try unlimited samples of over 200 craft beers. In addition to the ample brews, enjoy hatchet throwing, photo booths, and cornhole. You must be 21+ to enter with a valid ID. Location: The Navy Yard, 4747 S Broad St #120, Philadelphia, PA 19112 Cost: $46 GA, $75 VIP Date/Time: March 2, 1:30 p.m.
Puppy Yoga Feeling animal–deprived? Enjoy some much– deserved stress relief with the company of cute puppies. All dogs at the event are currently up
for adoption. It'll be happening on Saturday and Sunday—and, best of all, all proceeds benefit Morris Animal Refuge. Location: Amrita Yoga and Wellness, 1204 Frankford Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19125 Cost: $25 Date/Time: March 2-3, 1:30 p.m.
Philadelphia Flower Show Not on a beach but still need something to Instagram? Look no further than the Philadelphia Flower Show. This annual exhibit is the nation’s oldest flower show and boasts crowds of over 250,000. Location: 1101 Arch Street Cost: $21 with student ID Date/Time: March 2-10, hours vary
Fishtown Sample Sale Need to refresh your spring wardrobe? Head down to Fishtown to shop boutique brands at
40-90% off! This event includes a complimentary mimosa bar and showcases clothing, stationary, and homeware brands. Location: Jasper Studios, 2930 Jasper St, Philadelphia, PA 19134 Cost: Free Date/Time: March 10th, 10 a.m.
John Mulaney & Pete Davidson We all know that Ariana said "thank u, next" to Pete Davidson, but he's moved on to a new (b)romance with John Mulaney. Their hilarious "Weekend Update" on SNL brought public attention to their budding friendship, and now they've decided to tour together. Catch these two comedians at Investors Bank in Sewell, NJ—only a 25 minute Uber—and prepare to laugh the night away. Location: Investors Bank Performing Arts Center, 519 Hurffville - Cross Keys Rd, Sewell, NJ 08080 Cost: $45 Date/Time: March 10th, 10 p.m.
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Philly Neighborhood Guide: South Philly
With all of the activities available in South Philly, your most difficult decision is going to be answering: 'wit or witout'? Karin Hananel
If there’s one thing you should know before exploring South Philadelphia, it’s that you need to come hungry. From the Italian Market, to the new restaurants popping up in East Passyunk, to the legendary intersection of 9th and Passyunk hosting the decades–long cheesesteak rivalry between Geno’s and Pat’s, South Philadelphia’s food scene is anything but sparse. However, this full food scene didn’t come from nothing; it sprouted from a rich immigrant history, with many of Philadelphia’s immigrant population growing their own
vibrant communities that make South Philadelphia the culturally–rich place it is today. With the plethora of cultural landmarks, festivals, museums, and art, you’re sure to find many ways to burn the calories you’re fated to consume upon your time in South Philly.
11:00 a.m.
For breakfast, which is recommended because you’ll want to have a separate lunch (no brunching here, folks!) there are several options. Head over to Essen Bakery, founded by experienced pastry chef and 2018 James Beard semi–finalist Tova
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du Plessis, for decadent Jewish baked goods that even your bubbe would approve of. Their babkas are to die for, coming in two different flavors: chocolate halva (a candy made from tahini and sugar) and cinnamon hazelnut. If you’re looking for something more substantive, they offer three kinds of sandwiches: tunisian tuna, salmon, and za’atar, as well as toasts on challah or rye. While there are a few seats available at Essen, it’s still pretty small. If you’re looking for a sit–down breakfast option for a larger group, Sabrina’s Café
in the Italian Market is always a reliable option for the college crowd. Other bakeries serving bread and pastries that are sure to satisfy any morning sugar craving are Sarcone’s Bakery and Isgro Pastries—both mainstays of South Philly for over 100 years now. Sarcone’s breads are ridiculously fresh and fluffy, while Isgro is known for their award–winning cannolis.
12:00 p.m.
Just a six minute walk from Essen Bakery is Theatre Exile, a nonprofit performing arts theatre that is putting on Tim Crouch’s An Oak Tree from Feb. 14 to Mar. 10. The catch is that every night a new actor goes on stage “having neither seen nor read a word of the play they’re in … until they’re in it.” If you’re into experimental theatre or looking for a good deal (they give discounts for students!), head over and see what it’s all about. They’ll also be staging another play this May if you’re planning on going in the warmer months. If sitting still for a while isn’t really your thing, take it upon yourself to explore the beautiful and historically–significant
murals that populate the area. To name a few, there’s “Migrating Home” in Passyunk Square, which highlights South Philly’s rich immigrant cultures, “Remembering a Forgotten Hero” at Universal Charter School on Catherine Street, which features activist and educator Octavius Catto, who was assassinated while advocating for black suffrage in 1871, and “History of Passyunk” on 1600 E Passyunk Avenue. There are also a few museums and galleries that range from exploring the roots of South Philadelphia’s wItalian population, to the Mummers, to art from local artists. While you might only see the Mummers on New Years Day strutting down Broad Street and then partying on Two Street, there’s a whole museum dedicated to explaining the history behind the wonderfully flamboyant Mummer performances and costumes. Closer to the Italian Market and Passyunk area is the Fleisher Art Memorial, which encourages community art exploration through classes for children and adults as well as regular art exhibitions and
ST YLE
even the occasional opera. Part of the building is built off of a former Episcopalian church that still has the original pulpit, stained glass windows, and bell tower from when it was still functional.
2:00 p.m.
For lunch, head over to the famous corner of 9th and Passyunk Streets and pledge your loyalty to one of Philadelphia’s two cheesesteak giants:
Geno’s Steaks or Pat’s King of Steaks. While there are other famous cheesesteak joints like Jim’s, Dalessandro’s, John’s Roast Pork, and more, these two are by far the most notorious and polarizing. While I must say I am biased to Geno’s and keep my loyalty with them, I recommend splitting one cheesesteak from each with a friend to see which is better and determine your preference. Lines are ridiculously long on a weekend at peak lunch times so split up, send one person to each, and meet once you’ve gotten both steaks to ensure a fair comparison.
3:00 p.m.
Walk a couple blocks north on 9th Street to enter the heart of the Italian Market. Explore the many vendors and their unique specialties, including pasta, spices, produce, meats, and cheeses. A personal highlight is the original Di Bruno Bros store with their mouth–watering cured meats and imported cheeses. Do yourself a favor and see this food emporium for yourself!
7:00 p.m.
If you’re not already stuffed and want to experience another cultural cuisine of the area, head over to Pho Ha on 6th and Washington for what is arguably the best and most authentic Pho in South Philly. If Pho isn’t your jam, the menu is filled with other authentic Vietnamese specialties.
8:30 p.m.
For those not in a food coma by now, head over to South Street’s Theatre of Living Arts and take in a show for a fun late–night activity that’ll get your blood pumping.
Photos by Sophia Dai | Photo Editor F E B R U A R Y 27 , 2 01 9 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 17
FILM&TV
'Paddington 2' Was Robbed of an Oscar
Want to talk about Oscar snubs? 'Paddington 2' takes the cake. Anna Collins The Oscar nominations were met with excitement. Black Panther got a Best Picture nomination, Alfonso Cuarón was nominated for Best Director, and both Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone were nominated for The Favourite. Perennial industry greats were nominated, including Glenn Close for The Wife and the Coen Brothers for The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. However, while the public celebrated these successes, there was a glaring omission in the list of Os-
Courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures
car nominations: Director Paul King’s artistic masterpiece, Paddington 2. Twitter was aghast. The film itself has become an internet phenomenon, leading to countless jokes about how Paddington 2 is the best film ever made. The posts about it are endless. However, how much was this praise based in humor and how much in actual disappointment? Did Paddington 2 actually deserve an Oscar nomination? It's a children’s film about a talk-
ing bear who wanders around London and gets himself into increasingly comedic peril. Paddington teaches the family he lives with about love and passion, touching the lives of both the characters and the audience through his innocence and concern for everyone around him. Could this stand up against the weighty dramas that populate the nominations list? The truth is, Paddington 2 was robbed of an Oscar. Paddington 2’s appeal is not just
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seen by a loving fanbase, but by the numbers and the critics: it earned an impressive $226.8 million at the box office—more than Best Picture nominees Green Book or Vice. Most importantly, is the best reviewed film ever. On Rotten Tomatoes, it has received a whopping 222 positive reviews and a perfect 100% “fresh” score. It surpasses the critically acclaimed 2017 Best Picture nominee Lady Bird, which used to hold the score of best reviewed. Why, then, is Paddington 2 not being taken seriously? Of course, Paddington 2 isn’t of the likes of the other dramatic Best Picture nominees, being a children's movie, but that does not mean it is not deserving of Academy recognition. Why not Best Visual Effects? The special effects designers managed to create a live bear who is sweet and reminiscent of a teddy bear while not landing in the area of the uncanny valley. Simply looking at Paddington’s face sparks a feeling of joy, of sweetness, of humanity in this little animated creature voiced by Ben Whishaw. He is neither too real to be frightening or too fake to be cartoonish. His fur blows softly in the wind, becomes heavy with water, and poofs up when dried. Something about Paddington is so alive that when he stands besides Henry (Hugh Bonneville) and Mary Brown (Sally Hawkins), he fits right in. Comparing it to other nominees in the category, it is clear that Paddington 2 has its place
among them. Solo: A Star Wars Story and First Man have the generic beauty of space and ships flying in them. Ready Player One and Avengers: Infinity War are in the style of overdone action films with CGI battle sequences with few defining characteristics. Perhaps the only equivalent to the creation of Paddington is Winnie the Pooh in Christopher Robin—another classic bear getting the chance to shine on the silver screen. What makes Pooh more worthy of the nomination than Paddington? What makes Paddington 2 so special is that the visual effects impress even beyond the creation of the titular character. Much of the film centers around Paddington’s search to acquire a pop–up story book for his Aunt Lucy, leading to sequences within the book of Paddington’s imagination. The world created around him and his aunt has a childlike, fairytale quality in every aspect. Paddington 2 not only uses CGI beautifully, but does so with a crisp, perfected style that matches the genre and the themes of the film. It deserves at least a Best Special Effects nomination, but many aspects of the film are also artful—the cinematography, the score, the production design. The lack of any nominations is an obvious snub. Even though it did not win Academy recognition, it has love from the critics, the masses, and the fans. No matter what, Paddington 2 has stolen our hearts.
FILM&TV
What the Parallels between Netflix’s 'Russian Doll' and 'Maniac' Can Teach Us
How do themes of self–destructive alienation fit into our culture of binge– watching? Zovinar Khrimian Well–acted, thoughtfully constructed, and odd in all the right ways, Netflix’s Maniac was an elegant return to form when it came to the streaming service’s ever– growing body of original content. Maniac is centered around two very different individuals, Annie (Emma Stone) and Owen (Jonah Hill), who each experience mental health issues and monetary concerns that, by one way or another, land them in an otherworldly experimental drug trial. After hallucinogenic therapies, which end up overlapping Owen and Annie’s experiences, the two find ways of facing the underlying trauma. Maniac is concerned with the capacity for connection to heal us, and conveys this message through an exceptionally well–made limited series. It was about three quarters of the way through the newest miniseries, Russian Doll, that I noticed something eerily familiar about the show’s inventive science–fiction storytelling framing an inner narrative about two troubled New Yorkers. Like Maniac, Russian Doll situates us in New York. Nadia (Natasha Lyonne), the show’s protagonist, is a jaded, self–obsessed, proto–cat–lady. She is hit by a car on her 36th birthday, only to emerge in the same avant garde bathroom she was using before leaving the party. Interwoven into her attempts to cope with a cycle of reliving the party, which has dark significance as 36 was the age at which Nadia’s mother died. This mirrors Annie’s trauma in Maniac. Small parallels like these part of the reason why these two series seem like they’re in conversation with each other. Without revealing any spoilers,
Russian Doll ultimately plays off the idea that finding the courage to connect with another person is part of making peace with yourself. Neither Maniac nor Russian Doll is life–changingly profound, but their use of science–fiction scenarios to approach modern life is effective. These thematic similarities seem to fly right in the face of our conventional relationship with streamable content, which often treats media as an escape from our problems—a retreat from the complications of work and social life into a more comforting space. Curiously, both Maniac and Russian Doll deal with individuals for whom isolation has prevented growth, posed barriers to wellness, and have lead to paths of self–destruction. Netflix has long been praised for its portrayal of mental health concerns, especially in one of its earliest original series, Bojack Horseman, and these two series follow suit. Mindlessly consuming media can be an unhealthy coping mechanism, but on the other, Netflix is producing content that highlights contemporary anxieties. How do we reconcile that? Maniac and Russian Doll use their hybridized dark comedy to create meaning for viewers. Both shows emphasize how caring for others isn’t a cure–all, but a force that can moderate and manage pain in ways that isolation can’t. While Netflix is a massive corporation that relies on the demand for bingeable content, their shows can incite conversations about mental health and the nature of media. Netflix lets us all join in on the conversation—it’s up to us to make the most of it.
The Zell/Lurie Real Estate Center at the Wharton School presents: Eric and Beth Schlager Lecture on Entrepreneurship
Matthew J. Lustig
Head of Investment Banking, North America; Head of Real Estate & Lodging, Lazard
Wednesday, February 27, 2019 Vance Hall, Room B-11 6:00pm - 7:15pm Doors open at 5:30pm Seating is first come, first seated.
All University of Pennsylvania students and members of the Zell/Lurie Real Estate Center are invited to hear how Matthew J. Lustig has embodied the entrepreneurial spirit over the course of his illustrious career. For more information please contact Ron Smith: smtihrk@wharton.penn.edu or 215-746-4709
F E B R U A R Y 27 , 2 01 9 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 9
FILM&TV
Why Pixar’s 'Bao' Reminds Me of My Mom
This Oscar–winning animated short film is a poignant exploration of the love between immigrant parents and their children. Jessica Bao When I walked into the theater last summer to see Incredibles 2 with my friends, I had already heard about Bao, the animated short film that accompanied it. After all, it's hard to ignore when your last name appears as the title of a project by a major film studio. I was excited for the
Jess Tan | Design Editor
short—which is about a Chinese–Canadian mother with empty nest syndrome and her bao (a traditional Chinese dumpling) who comes to life—as it seemed to be a great opportunity for Chinese culture to be represented on the silver screen. What I did not expect, however, was that when I heard the familiar
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folksy, traditional Chinesestyle soundtrack playing over the darkened theater and the main character appeared, making dumplings and eating them alone, tears instantly fell down my face, and they did not stop for the next eight minutes. This was, apparently, not an uncommon reaction for
those watching Bao. Throughout the short, the mother is connected to her dumpling–son through food, and culturally–specific foods at that. They pick out vegetables together at the Chinese market and share BBQ pork buns on the bus. As the bao grows up, he begins venturing outside of the activities he does with his mother. When the mother prohibits him from playing soccer with other children (because it dents his doughy head), he shows his annoyance by rejecting her offer of the familiar pork buns. As many children of immigrants may feel, the food of the cultures that our parents grew up with often hold significant places in our households. Food is not only a way for our parents to share what’s important to them with us: When their children are drawn to the American culture that parents may feel alienated by, food is also how they show their care and love. This is especially true when, for many immigrant parents, saying the words “I love you” is rare. For me, the most emotional moment of the film was not its pivotal moment (when, spoiler alert: the mother literally eats her bao—son in an attempt to
stop him from leaving). It was when the mother, wanting to reach a seemingly– teenaged bao, cooks a feast of traditional Chinese foods (tofus, shrimps, and yes, dumplings), but the bao, ignorant of his mother’s efforts, leaves with his friends instead. The moment reminded me of the many times when I, after my mom had cooked my favorite dishes, opted to go out and eat pizza with my friends instead. It reminded me of all the ways my parents have tried to connect with me—from my dad’s offers to play mahjong, to the links of Chinese articles that they send me on WeChat. Growing up in America, I have always craved Asian– American representations in popular culture. Lately, it seems like that dream may slowly be coming true. However, as more glamorous, romantic, and thrilling Asian characters fill up my screens, I welcomed how Bao strives to depict the beauty in the everyday aspects of Chinese culture. Furthermore, as much as I may relate to younger, more Westernized characters, I am incredibly glad that Bao puts someone front–and–center who may have never felt seen in the Western culture before— someone like my mom.
ARTS
FROM PARENTS TO PUNK–ROCKERS: THE 21ST ANNUAL PHILADELPHIA TATTOO ARTS CONVENTION A look at Philadelphia's thriving tattoo scene and its role within the greater arts community Jess Araten I found myself not knowing where to look. Wild– bearded men, parents and children, babies and dogs, food stands, jewelry vendors, tables and tables of machinery, oddities and taxidermy– ed animals. Countless artists, all hard at work on their craft. I found myself at the 21st Annual Philadelphia Tattoo Arts Convention. Held at the Pennsylvania Convention Center, the Tattoo Arts Convention draws both veteran tattoo enthusiasts and those new to the art. The Philadelphia convention represents one of over twenty similarly–structured conventions, held throughout the nation and produced by a company called Villain Arts. In the course of just three days, the convention creates a pop–up environment of “over five hundred international and national tattoo artists, tattooing live, sideshow acts, live human suspension, burlesque and appearances from tattooed TV celebrities and Ink Master contestants.” Be it artists or participants, each comes with a unique talent or passion of their own—eager to pitch in to this annual celebration of the human body's role as an art medium. Sarah Sno has worked at tattoo conventions for nearly four years, traveling the country with Villain Arts. Sarah explains that the convention originated in Philadelphia, and says that she herself has lived in Philadelphia for over twelve years. Sarah describes tattoos as a
form of “body adornment artwork,” and tells me that from an artist’s perspective, “it’s just like painting on a canvas—except it’s permanent.” New Jersey–based artist Jessi has been tattooing for five years. Jessi describes her relationship with art as having been a part of her life since birth—“my parents were gobsmacked by how crazy my art was at the age of five.” At age sixteen, Jessi got her first tattoo, and wound up showing that artist her portfolio of visual artwork. She began her apprenticeship with the very same artist shortly thereafter—Jessi had always wanted to be a tattoo artist. She describes the shifts in the style of her work as an artist over time, moving from abstract to traditional tattoo work. Jessi began attending tattoo conventions after moving to her third shop, and describes tattoo conventions as the single best way she’s found to market her work and to meet new people in the industry. She explains that artists often do “guest spots” in different cities, catering to clients that cannot travel to their shops. Jessi prefers to adorn her own body with others’ designs, as she puts her own art on others nearly every day. As an artist herself, she values the artwork of her contemporaries. She is a living breathing “canvas” of sorts, presenting their works to the world wherever she goes. For those new to the tattoo world, Jessi offers the
following advice: “It lasts forever. Just pay for it; that’s the big thing. Don’t be afraid to travel for a tattoo. People want to stay in a half–hour radius. I drive five hours to get tattooed.” Jessi understands and deeply values the permanence of tattoo work. She says that though her own tattoos have been expensive, “they’re on me forever, and it looks beautiful, so it’s worth it.” Sabrina Marie’s work offers a unique take on the world of tattoo. The father of Sabrina’s son was a tattoo artist, and her son loved touching the machines.
Recognizing the danger in having small children operate needle–laden equipment, Sabrina decided to create a “kid–friendly tattoo machine”, and painted wooden tattoo machine-shaped objects that hold crayons instead of needles. After traveling with her son to many tattoo conventions, she noticed that parents took interest in her creations, and decided to build a business. Sabrina is not a tattoo artist herself, but a painter and crafter, and now her work caters to interest of children seeking to dabble in the magic and mystique of body
art. The art of tattoo has a unique culture all its own, yet crosses into nearly every community one could imagine. From parents to punk– rockers, across religions and races, and no matter what age or background, tattooing acts as a unifying force in Philadelphia’s artistic community. For readers of Street considering tattoos of their own or just plain intrigued by tattoo art, the next local convention will be held at Wildwood Beach in New Jersey, from August 9–11, 2019.
Penn's only place to get
37th & Spruce • 215-222-7713 The Perelman Center @ Penn Med • 215-386-1350 www.kitchengia.com F E B R U A R Y 27 , 2 01 9 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 2 1
ARTS
Image courtesy of Penn Glee Club
GLEE CLUB DEMONSTRATES THEIR LOVE FOR COMMUNITY IN
'THE GOOD, THE BAD,
OR THE UGLEE' Katie Farrell Sam Orlin (C’ 19) appears around the corner of the Annenberg Center entrance. He’s in an olive green t–shirt and a black–and–white flannel. During quick introductions, another beaming face turns around the corner, sitting down with a bright pink shirt and flannel, Jimmy Paolini (E’ 19). And then the third, Ryan Young (C’ 19). They’re all in costume—Sam prepared to play Bison Ben, Jimmy as Bill Williams, and Ryan as Flint Westwood—ready for their opening night of The Good, The Bad, and the Uglee. Sam smiles with an easy charm that is approachable and engaging. It’s of a similar hue to his character, Bison Ben—without the blissful ditziness. His responses use the cadence of a seasoned performer, accustomed to quick and smart responses. He tells me that, “this group functions
only by being greater than the sum of its parts.” The other two nod. They tend to answer questions in the same unison they will achieve on stage in a few hours, substantiating each other’s claims in a collaborative effort. When I ask Young about his favorite part of the show, he answers “I’m Not a Loser,” which is Sam's solo. His lips raise to a smile in company with a slightly furrowed brow; he maintains a poised demeanor as he adds, “it transcends bounds; they surprise me all the time.” The other two laugh, as if this could be construed as a backhanded slight, when what is most clear to me about this group is their care, commitment, and belief in each other. My extent of “glee” knowledge ends at the TV series. When I enter the theatre for the performance, I’m expect-
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The group delivers a hilarious performance dedicated to community and friendship.
ing applause after sets and, possibly, "Don’t Stop Believin.’" Yet, what I am met with instead is unapologetic laughter. At one point, during Bill Williams saying, “let’s man up and talk about our feelings and aspirations like all men do,” I catch myself covering my mouth to stifle laughter, realizing the ridiculousness of such a gesture, as the crowd around me erupts. Before the song, Ryan had shared that “every audience is different,” describing some as “raucous.” At first, I had thought such a description to be strange, but now I understand what he means. He then added, “we are here to make people happy.” Sam interjects, "you know, to have glee." Jimmy jumps in, adding that his favorite piece is “For Good” from Wicked, using the piece’s own lyrics to describe his reasoning: “because of you, I
have been changed for good," referencing the ways performing with the members have positively changed his college experience. Jimmy delivers a radiant solo. In addition to the show’s comic endeavors, this piece extends the themes of friendship and community. Putting it lightly, the choral range is touching for the audience members, and the Glee club members singing towards each other, communicates this even further. As the show comes to a close, the director invites up past Glee members and family. The stage becomes quickly populated with three rows of people covering the from stage right to left, singing their traditional song as if it had been rehearsed before the show’s start. Repeatedly in the interviews, the members share that Glee is a wonderful fam-
ily. Ryan remarks to “not lose sight of the gift this is” and “cherish time you get to be a part of the group.” It’s in that word, ‘get,’ that I can see that Ryan views being a part of this group as a gift and opportunity. His genuine passion is refreshing. The performance begins with the theme of friendship and ends with it as well; after searching for the treasure, the three arrive upon an empty box, in which the upbeat Bison Ben smiles and says “maybe the true treasure is friendship.” It’s a line we have always heard, and perhaps even held as true. However, as I stare upon the rows of community on stage, the constant on–stage support, I realize Bison Ben is referring to more than just the trio on stage—he's referring to the entire Glee family, a group that truly becomes great through the sum of its parts.
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