EMMIE FALL 2018
THE DIVINE ISSUE
JAX ANDERSON FLINT EASTWOOD
EMMIE FALL 2018
THE DIVINE ISSUE
FLINT EASTWOOD
our original fall 2018 cover
As of July 2019, Jax Anderson, the voice and embodiment of the Flint Eastwood identity, has decided to renounce the pseudonym, striving to create from here on out as herself, under her own name. To honor this moment of growth, we’re celebrating Anderson now — as we’ve done before — and have reimagined the digital version of this, our Divine Issue, to recognize this new era for our cover star. Enjoy.
GEORDON WOLLNER EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 2019 - 2020
CONTENTS
10 16 18 20 22 24 30 32 34 36 40 42
FOR THE RECORD album reviews_ ENTER THE VOID grace in the spaces between_ A NEW IDEA OF PERFECTION with DJ Pain 1_ CONFESSIONAL a playlist_ THE REBIRTH of spiritual jazz_ RED LIGHT WRITING with FLINT EASTWOOD AFTERLIFE a playlist_ SEVEN IN HEAVEN with Somme_ RIDE THE RAVE transcendent culture_ DIVINE CREATION a conversation with Bear In The Forest_ SPEAKING TONGUES a playlist_ CONCERT GALLERY
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR 6 / EMMIE
I often find myself searching for something to latch onto in order to understand the world around me. Our world can be broken down bit by bit, processed and analyzed according to its materiality, but our emotions stand apart as something abstract and impossible to dissect. How are we supposed to understand how we feel? How others feel? I believe those answers come from music. Combinations of melodies, rhythms, lyrics and any sound imaginable can coalesce in a piece of art that makes us feel something indescribable. We often take the power of music for granted; it forces itself into every facet of our lives, consciously or subconsciously influencing how we act and feel. In special cases, music transcends our ability to fully comprehend what it means to us. Divinity, like music, is ethereal — it’s based on our own subjective experiences and perceptions. It’s something we encounter in fleeting moments of bliss, inspiration or revelation. Throughout this issue, we explore those moments and all of their variation. From the resurgence of spiritual jazz to stories told Jax Anderson by our cover star, Flint Eastwood, on the complexity of growing up in an environment that tells you who you can and can’t be, we hope to shed some light on the different ways music manifests itself as a source for connection to something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes it’s a song that takes you back to a shared memory; sometimes it’s a project that spurs new creativity; sometimes it’s an album that lets you ignore the world around you. Let go of what you know, and take some time to figure out what “divine” means to you.
LOGAN RUDE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 2018 - 2019
FALL 2018 / 7
TEAM EDITOR-IN-CHIEF ART DIRECTOR ALBUMS EDITOR CONCERTS EDITOR FEATURES EDITOR PHOTOGRAPHY EDITOR MARKETING DIRECTOR WRITERS
ART
PHOTOGRAPHERS
featuring work by
PLAYLISTS ON THE COVER
8 / EMMIE
logan rude geordon wollner daniel winogradoff abbey meyer christian zimonick matt weinberger mitchell rose bri bailey rishabh kishore benny koziol rolands lauzums abbey meyer henry michaels brandon phouybanhdyt logan rude matt weinberger daniel winogradoff geordon wollner christian zimonick bri bailey madeline rasmussen geordon wollner ashley evers daniel klugman matt weinberger morgan winston geordon wollner bia jurema cameron smith EMMIE staff Jax Anderson
flint eastwood by cameron smith
“
Divine is commanding. It says something is untouchable, yet wise. It also says ‘don’t fuck with me.’ It’s out of reach, but very much in sight.
”
n as formerly know
- Jax Anderson, aka Flint Eastwood
FALL 2018 / 9
FOR THE RECORD FALL 2018 ALBUM REVIEWS
10 / EMMIE
ALBUM REVIEWS
East Atlanta Love Letter, 6lack
Be The Cowboy, Mitski
Atlanta’s hometown hero 6LACK strove to be as vulnerable and as honest as possible while making his sophomore album, East Atlanta Love Letter. 6LACK is considered by many as one of the more genuine artists in the new R&B wave. For 6LACK, born Ricardo Valentine, East Atlanta Love Letter’s vulnerabilities and honesties aren’t quite fully-fledged, but they still contain fascinating accounts of his rise that feel somewhat superior to those found in his debut project FREE 6LACK.
Blending the worlds of pop and rock music is nothing new, but doing it well doesn’t happen nearly as often as it should. Mitski’s fifth album, Be the Cowboy, sounds like a pop album on the surface, but below the banging drums and the glistening synths, this album is overflowing with rock-like heartbreak and discomfort.
Perspective is the driving force to 6LACK’s music: While other musical artists have gone through something similar, he insists that his experience is wholly unique, which only adds to his legend. Gem lyricism and technicality can be found on single “Nonchalant” where he raps lines like “We work, so my n****s ain’t gotta be on T-Shirts/ Watch me get my hands dirty with he rework” and “Learned how to kill a hook, Peter Pan.” “Scripture” contains powerful, awe-defying quotes like, “I wrote this in a hotel the size of a closet/ Just to show you that I could do it.” On “Disconnect,” his third verse starts out with “Love is not struggling to tell you ‘I love ya’/ Or you saying music’s above ya/ I do this shit here ‘cause I need/ I need you.” 6LACK, here, struggles with balancing his relationship in the wake of his recent entry into fatherhood while still using bitter flows and subzero vocals. East Atlanta Love Letter shows both cache and bite at their purest, a sign that he is improving as a recording artist. 6LACK is always on the grind to right his wrongs, while admitting to his flaws, as seen on intro “Unfair” (“Hope my mistakes don’t make me less of a man/ But lately it feel like them shits really can”).
SCORE: 7.7
— daniel winogradoff
Mitski has always had a knack for wildly unique imagery to describe her varying emotions (her 2014 album Bury Me at Makeout Creek features the line “And I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony”). On Be the Cowboy, breathtaking development in Mitski’s songwriting ability is paired with convention-defying changes in song structure. Nearly every song consists of stream-of-consciousness laments that are as raw as emotions can possibly be. The fact that she’s able to convey devastating loneliness in a song that only lasts a minute and 50 seconds (“Lonesome Love”) is a testament on its own. “Nobody” is one of the most anthemic songs of 2018, yet it’s equally isolating. Written when Mitski found herself alone in a hotel room at a Malaysian tour stop, “Nobody” is a fervent release of pent-up emotions. “I’ve been big and small/ And big and small/ And big and small again/ And still nobody wants me/ Still nobody wants me.” Clocking in at only 33 minutes long, one of Be the Cowboy’s greatest qualities is its brevity. It never overstays its welcome; it leaves you lusting for more when the pianos finally fade on closing track “Two Slow Dancers.” In both her lyricism and instrumentation, there is a constant feeling of dejection matched by a strong will to find the self-confidence to move on. Be the Cowboy is Mitski’s best album yet.
SCORE: 9.0
— logan rude FALL 2018 / 11
FOR THE RECORD
Mudboy, Sheck Wes
Room 25, Noname
In February, Harlem’s self-proclaimed renaissance man Sheck Wes said, “I’m a mudboy. I came from the mud, oozed out the concrete.” This self-bestowed label is all you need to know about Wes and his music; everything is raw. Life, to him, is an endless grind, one that requires commitments to grittiness while balancing genuine action and thought. On his major label debut, the electrifying 19-year-old ordains himself as both rap’s next prince and its next executioner.
Noname has been seriously releasing music for only two years, yet her songs have worked their way into the consciousnesses of 20-somethings who share her inner worries of legacy, security and self-identity in a society that has thrown all of them in flux. Room 25 takes those thoughts, expands upon them to much greater, more vulnerable depths. Already, Room 25 feels like it’s been a part of her catalog for years because of her willingness to share the inner-workings of her mind. Room 25 is wise beyond Noname’s years, yet it feels afraid to admit that its insights carry weight, giving strong senses of humbleness.
Wes embodies something close to a firecracker: He’s unpredictable and turbulent, yet powerful and relentless. Often on Mudboy, fiery instrumentals sound unmixed and coarse, but this only elaborates Wes’s consistent aesthetic. Third-person flexes are less about what he has and more about what he’s become. The cover in itself shows something baptismal, as if Wes is binding himself to this way of life. “Mo Bamba,” Wes’s self-serving launch pad, is the intersection between well-crafted simplicity and disorienting filthiness; Wes’s first words of “I got hoeeeessss, caaalllinnggg” is too memorable to go unnoticed. Yet, the depth of the tracks around the year’s biggest banger elevates Mudboy to elite levels. “Live Sheck Wes” features a demonic melody and thrashing bass that Wes rips to shreds. He describes how he will die as the same person that lived his life, which is both blunt and genuine. On personal cut “Never Lost,” Wes shows versatility and “Kyrie” features Boston Celtics point guard Kyrie Irving’s infamous “suck my dick!” clip about ex-teammate LeBron James. Wes clearly shows he doesn’t need help, for the project itself has no featured artists. It’s all Wes, all the time. In the age where simple trap-inspired music is trying to carve its niche, it seems like Sheck Wes is the one who started the trend; he has almost mastered it before turning 20. Wes is fire; his death-defying style is striking. Mudboy is an exercise in talent and obligation to a game plan. The result is a shockwave in a Harlem kid’s crazy, unfiltered world.
SCORE: 8.3 12 / EMMIE
— daniel winogradoff
Recognition and confidence are at odds with each other in Room 25 as they constantly fight for superiority over the other. On the song “Eternal” Noname sings, “I know everyone goes someday/ I know my body’s fragile, know it’s made from clay/ But if I have to go, I pray my soul is still eternal and my momma don’t forget about me.” Of course, her professional legacy is called into question, but so are her personal relationships. How will past lovers remember her after their paths split? How will her family think of her when she’s gone? There’s a lot of uncertainty that comes through in Noname’s delivery. As if an attempt to counteract the uncertainty, the production is consistent with her past work. Room 25 takes many Chicagoan influences and blends them with Noname’s own tastes. Jazz is the central theme in much of the production and gives Noname space to let her voice lure you into calmness. Nevertheless, the chaos in the calmness remains. Ultimately, this 35-minute journey through Noname’s psyche is one that’s just as revealing about ourselves as it is about her. Room 25 is a meditation on the neuroses that relentlessly force themselves into our daily lives and a seminar on how manage them. *In light of allegations of sexual assault against the artist who designed Noname’s original album art for Room 25, we’ve designed an alternative to hold its place.
SCORE: 9.2
— logan rude
ALBUM REVIEWS
iridescence, BROCKHAMPTON
TAKE ME A_PART, THE REMIXES, Kelela
BROCKHAMPTON did it again. The boy band is an absolute powerhouse; the group has released four albums in the span of 18 months with each album showcasing the sheer amount of creativity and talent that they possess.
Kelela is an artist who picks and curates with a surgical degree of taste and purpose, with deliberation. Kelela released her debut album Take Me Apart in 2017 which received almost unanimous critical acclaim. Anyone who did not know her before were watching her for her next move. Almost one year after Take Me Apart’s release, Kelela released two singles leading up to the release of TAKE ME A_PART, THE REMIXES, a remix album that showcases 20 producers and musicians that leave their marks on her debut album.
As if their meteoric rise to the hip-hop scene was not enough, BROCKHAMPTON also had a tumultuous few months with the parting of the face of the SATURATION trilogy, Ameer Vann, for allegations sexual and emotional abuse. Despite letting go of Vann, the boy band still produced a record that captured the BROCKHAMPTON aesthetic sound while still pushing their personal boundaries by being experimental with structure and sound; iridescence has all of the elements of the traditional BROCKHAMPTON sound that has cemented in the minds of their fans. “NEW ORLEANS,” “BERLIN” and “DISTRICT” have strong basslines with distorted melodies that only BROCKHAMPTON could produce. “SAN MARCOS” and “THUG LIFE” remind listeners of the vocal powers of the band’s secret weapon, bearface. Songs like “J’OUVERT,” “FABRIC” and “TAPE” are unconventional, even for BROCKHAMPTON.
While a remix album highlights the artists who are reinterpreting the original content, Kelela shines as she pulls the marionette strings by drafting a team of musicians and artists, both relatively familiar and unknown, who perfectly executed their minds onto Take Me Apart. Ranging from bounce, vogue and gogo, this remix album features remixes from serpentwithfeet, Joey LaBeija, Badsista and Linn da Quebrada, Gaika and Divoli S’vere, showing that there is something for everyone. The artists on the album are eclectic and talented, putting their unique spin and injecting new personality into Take Me Apart.
A standout track from the album is “SOMETHING ABOUT HIM.” Kevin Abstract has consistently rapped about his struggles with coming to terms with his sexuality which he does on “WEIGHT,” but on “SOMETHING ABOUT HIM” he sounds more confident. The straightforward messaging, without knowing it or not, combats hip-hop homophobia in its own casual, confident way. iridescence is a good album but not BROCKHAMPTON’s best production. The SATURATION trilogy set a high bar for what their best work can be like, but that does not take away from this album’s quality; iridescence is a great album. Now that this album is out, the question arises: When is the next album coming out? Is PUPPY still in the works? This is the effect BROCKHAMPTON has created: Once they release their work, fans itch for more of their brilliance.
“Lmk_ What’s Really Good Remix_” features hip-hop powerhouses cupcakKe, Junglepussy, Ms. Boogie and Princess Nokia. The “LMK” remix is airy and punchy, leaving room for each artist to swagger through the upbeat reproduction. The second single released was a take on “Waitin” by Haitian-Canadian beat-junkie, KAYTRANADA. His remix is a guaranteed car shaker with his signature gnarly sub bass used throughout his oeuvre. Overall, these two remixes are at two different ends of the sonic spectrum and would only serve as an appetizer for the entrée ahead.
SCORE: 8.3
SCORE: 10 — brandon phouybanhdyt
— rishabh kishore
TAKE ME A_PART, THE REMIXES is an album that is wrought with Kelela’s ideas and psyche. The product is not so much a several-course meal served linearly, but a tasting menu where every item brought out is different and intriguing, simultaneously complementing and contrasting the songs before and after.
FALL 2018 / 13
FOR THE RECORD
Mirror Master, Young the Giant
Negro Swan, Blood Orange
“You’ll be okay/ Everyone I know has got their debt to pay/ Sell your soul to make it/ That’s the modern way.” Lead singer Sameer Gadhia sings this on “Oblivion,” the fifth track off of Young the Giant’s newest album Mirror Master. With this song and eleven others, the indie rock band breaks a twoyear silence for their fans, showing a more vulnerable and reflective side.
Producer, multi-instrumentalist, songwriter and vocalist Dev Hynes has been making music as Blood Orange for years now and his fourth album Negro Swan is a whirlwind of confessionals about society-enforced pain.
Mirror Master tells a clear story of self-discovery, inviting listeners to embrace personal struggle. With lyrically-focused songs, the album plays on the anxieties and insecurities that come with everyday life. In the standout song “Tightrope,” the band confesses “I don’t know how I ended up so close to where I started/ I went to war for peace of mind/ What was it for?” Listeners can relate to the feeling of self-doubt as the band focuses on this inner turmoil and its ties to relationships, expectations and societal pressures. At times, the album feels somewhat drab with the melancholy songs “Brother’s Keeper” and “Darkest Shade of Blue.” Although the lyrics are thoughtful and fit the general theme, the instrumentals are boring and unmemorable. More fun and upbeat songs “Superposition” and “Simplify” make up for the dullness with experimentation in guitar riffs and a newer, more atmospheric vibe. These new sounds serve as a pleasant twist to Young the Giant’s traditionally chill beats from past albums. The album comes full circle with the final song “Mirror Master,” which feels like an immersive, cinematic experience. At its heart, Mirror Master is a portrayal of a human experience expressing the insecurities of everyday life as honestly as possible. Although the band could have been more exploratory at times, the album provides a powerful and relatable message that devoted fans and new listeners can appreciate.
SCORE: 7.2 14 / EMMIE
— bri bailey
“People try to cut us down by saying/ ‘She’s doing the most’ or/ ‘He’s way too much’/ But, like, why would we want to do the least”, Janet Mock says on “Jewelry”, one of the album’s most important songs. It’s a question that reveals itself as central to understanding the themes throughout Negro Swan. Finding acceptance is rarely easy but Hynes searches for new solutions to cope with rejection, self-identity and a world that exploits the people it praises the most. Filled with dreamlike, romantic lyrics, Hynes’s efforts across Negro Swan might sound like tributes to unrequited loves and tumultuous breakups, but these songs aren’t about others; these are songs about existing crossroads of glorification and marginalization; these are songs about exploitation; these are songs about finding self-love. Produced almost entirely by Hynes, Negro Swan’s soundscape is just as gorgeous as his lyrics are poetic. Saxophones, 808s, synthesizers, guitar and piano all blend together into a world that bends and shifts with every new track. The world Hynes creates is one that exposes the depression and dejection forced upon marginalized people in the world that continues to crumble around us. On “Nappy Wonder”, Hynes sings “Feelings never have no ethics/ Feelings never have been ethical.” It’s a condemnation of the torture our emotions can and do put us through — a denouncement of the unjust pain we inflict on ourselves. Negro Swan is a breakdown of the psychological terror marginalized communities, especially the black and LGBTQ+ communities, face on a day-to-day basis.
SCORE: 9.4
— logan rude
ALBUM REVIEWS / SUNDAY SCHOOL EDITION
Judy at Carnegie Hall, Judy Garland Release Date: July 10, 1961
Moondog, Moondog Release Date: 1969
Though there exists a beloved canon of live albums in popular music, few can boast the title of “the greatest night in show business history.” Enter the tour-de-force that is Judy Garland’s 1961 double-LP, Judy at Carnegie Hall.
From the 1940s to the 1970s, a blind man roamed the streets of New York: he wore flowing robes, a horned helmet and carried a spear with him; he was dubbed as the “Viking of 6th Avenue”; he played unusual compositions on homemade instruments; he was viewed as an eccentric staple of the streets. The Viking of 6th Avenue was Moondog, one of the most influential classical composers of the 21st century.
Judy at Carnegie Hall is the document of a genius performer in the midst of her fiery resurrection. After struggling with health and drug abuse during the 40s and 50s, the vaudeville star and actress of Wizard of Oz was ready to make her triumphant return to public performance in the 60s. To listen to this concert is to be swept up into a widescreen experience of emotion, history, and culture as narrated by the voice of a master. Garland and her orchestra, led by conductor/pianist Mort Lindsey, lay out a formidable survey of American popular music, managing to encompass decades of the art form in one night. But even by 1961, this source material, which included the classic songs of Berlin and Gershwin, was very well-trod. Over the course of the LP, Garland wails through staggering feats of musical showmanship. A new, improvisational fury is applied to her signature songs like “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and “Come Rain or Come Shine.” Bombastically sad ballads like “Stormy Weather” are marked by chillingly macabre touches. It’s telling that throughout Garland’s career she expressed an often intense, rapturous love for that audience. She once said she wanted to prove it “by giving them blood.” In Judy at Carnegie Hall, she speaks to her crowd like an old friend, sharing all kinds of laughs and intimacies. The audience begins to chant at the outset of the encore, requesting their favorite songs. Garland joyously shouts over the din, “I know! I’ll sing them all and we’ll stay all night.”
— benny koziol
Born as Louis Hardin in 1916, Moondog was blinded from a freak accident at the age of 16. Undeterred by his disability, he taught himself how to craft compositions with braille and numerous hours of ear-training. Unfortunately, Moondog never gained a large following until rebellious hippie culture of the 60s came to the forefront of American life. His 1969 album Moondog is a perfect look into how his compositions influenced the works of minimalist composers Philip Glass and Steve Reich. From the start of the record, we can hear the groundwork for a fresh movement immediately. Simply titled “Theme,” the first track employs the hypnotizing repetition that Glass and Reich became so famous for years later. His compositions are also notable for blends of jazz and classical music that became known as Third Stream. “Good for Goodie” and “Bird’s Lament,” named after and dedicated to Benny Goodman and Charlie Parker respectively, utilize swing elements and jazz instrumentation to craft a unique sound that characterized his music. As with many great and influential artists, his work became beloved by many musicians but was and still is fairly unknown to the wider world. While his work was often passed by with no regard, the ones that did stop and listen were revealed a whole new world of sound.
— rolands lauzums FALL 2018 / 15
E NTER T HE I looked out the rain-speckled airplane window as it drew level with the top of the clouds. Cool, filtered air rustled the hair against my forehead, and the downy noise of Harmony in Ultraviolet purred and rubbed its back against my ear’s inner membrane. “White Caps of White Noise” played as I looked down on rolling grey sheets of cloud, diffuse in the murky rainlight of the morning. At that moment, I felt the sort of stir in my chest I suspect many infrequent fliers feel. Not a stir of fear, but rather the stir a pious man feels when he enters a great cathedral. As the music of Tim Hecker buzzed like a swarm of bees heard underwater and the plane’s wing-tips left wiry streaks of white vapor behind them, I felt divinity.
VO I D 16 / EMMIE
by christian zimonick
ENTER THE VOID
Key to understanding the power of ambient music is an understanding of its structure. The two main qualities which set it apart from other genres are its implicitness and its repetitiousness. The former of these qualities is unique to minimal music in general and defines the genre in many ways. Listeners are not overburdened with sonic information nor subjected to such great emotion that it gets in the way of their own thoughts. The second quality is more common but important all the same. Ambient music frequently features loops of sound or some other type of repetitive structure. William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops, which is a series of looping segments played until the tapehead has worn them down to barely-recognizable noise, serves as a personification of this take. These qualities create a certain sensitivity in the listener. Implicitness, by its dearth of available information, makes the listener sensitive to the explicit. By a similar logic, repetition makes them sensitive to change. In a broader sense, they make the listener hungry for something different, something to break the apparent monotony of the music they’re hearing. And the more implicit and repetitious the music, the stronger this hunger becomes. Take Eliane Radigue’s drone classic Le Trilogie de la Mort. This three-hour-long epic features an amorphous, slowly-changing suite of interferent sine waves that merge and pull apart, creating melodies and rhythms which lurk on the periphery of what can be perceived.
Very little is presented besides these morphing rises and falls, yet the effect is tremendous. Each thread of sound assumes its own appearance and character; they become individuals who manifest, live and die in just a few minutes of playtime. The negative space that ambience creates also serves as a neat space for sensory information to fall into. The sight of clouds set to the music of Tim Hecker had an amplifying effect on me because the search for meaning that ambience inspires extends to what the listener sees. The experience of an ambient piece can change from setting to setting. Associating what one sees with what one hears when they listen to ambient music is particularly easy given how interpretative the pieces can be. Brian Eno’s Music for Airports could seem like the perfect soundtrack to the sanitary monotony of a literal airport, or the auditory manifestation of an autumn day, depending on where the listener is at the time. Linking ambient music to a physical location gives it a special power. In some ways, it provides answers to the everyday ambiguities one faces daily. Open-ended and arbitrary occurrences like the sudden flight of a bird from a tree limb couple neatly to the negative space in the music the listener hears. All this is to say that ambience forces us inward. It asks questions that can only be answered by our spirits, and gives a deeper meaning to what we see outside. It’s strange and it inspires in us a sense of mysterium and tremendum by forcing us to face questions that astound and terrify: Why am I here? What does this mean? Who am I? It’s beauty and ability to give deeper meaning to sensory things make it fascinans: charming and consumptive despite the big questions it raises.
WHY AM I HERE? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? WHO AM I?
What is it about ambient music or, more generally, minimal music that allows it to bring us so close to something greater? The ambient genre traces its roots at least as far back as 1888, to the Gymnopédies of Erik Satie. These soft, atmospheric pieces are simultaneously meditative and melancholic. Yet, in their lack of overwhelming detail or pathos, they accomplish what most ambient pieces do: they create a sense of the other. The other, the strange, the foreign, the divine or, in the words of German philosopher Rudolf Otto, the Numinous. The term “numinous” was coined by Otto to describe the generic feeling of religious awe, and it has three components: mysterium, tremendum and fascinans. Mysterium describes the total otherness of the divine and its dazzling effect. Tremendum is the awefilled terror and sense of relative meaninglessness when faced with the infinite. Fascians describes the great charm of the divine, despite its fearful qualities. Music has the power to inspire these traits and ambient music succeeds most among all kinds.
And so, ambience meets the criteria of the Numinous: the underlying experience of all religion and mysticism. By forcing less upon its listener, ambient music is able to inspire much more.
FALL 2018 / 17
18 / EMMIE
written by logan rude
photographed by morgan winston / @morgan.winston
DJ Pain 1
and a new idea of perfection
DJ PAIN 1
PERFECTION ISN’T AN END GOAL, IT’S A PROCESS.
Pacal Bayley, known as DJ Pain 1 in the music world, knows that very well. The Madison-bred producer has been making music for more than a decade. In 2008, he landed a smash hit with the song “Don’t Do It” on Jeezy’s The Recession. Since then, he’s worked with the likes of Ludacris, Public Enemy, Royce Da 5’9” and 50 Cent. In the months leading up to his connection with Jeezy, Bayley hadn’t made much of a career with production. “Up until then I had started creating probably thousands of beats, but I just never finished them,” Bayley says. He gave himself a year to find enough success to make a career out of making music, otherwise, he planned on falling back on his degree in English education. Six or seven months into this timeline, he found success. The Recession was certified gold by the RIAA. Despite that huge win and countless projects in the vaults, Bayley never quite felt his work was “perfect”. If the perfect sound doesn’t really exist, then what does perfection mean in music? How do artists know what works and what doesn’t? “It was more important for me to deliver that art to ears than it was for me to obsess over whether or not I viewed it as perfect because the art is subjective,” Bayley says. “If people like it I think you’ve done your job as an artist — if it resonates with people in some way. Virtually anything, any piece of art, can resonate with somebody.” In Bayley’s eyes, perfection is more about growth. Creativity is an ever-shifting process that relies on evolution to avoid stagnation. What’s “perfect” one day may not carry that same weight in a week, month or year. The opposite is also true. Music — or art in general — that is hated, disrespected or ignored upon its release in the world may become revered as time passes. It’s impossible to know what kind of reaction a piece of art may elicit from different audiences. “Music is weird because the divinity of a lot of art isn’t always instantaneous,” Bayley says. “With music, I think time is a major factor in revealing the divinity of a song.”
Bayley’s understanding of music and his process rely on acknowledging the element of time. There is never a singular moment where a piece of music crosses a threshold into an unimpeachable territory. Rather, projects reach a point where Bayley is comfortable with a public release. If there isn’t a finished product, there is no way to process feedback and change the work in the future. It’s rare for an artist to have the chance to go back and change their work after it’s been released into the world (though that norm has been called into question in recent years due to the nature of streaming services), but in 2015, Bayley had a chance to go back and redo things. Three months before Ludacris’ album Ludaversal hit shelves, the rapper’s team reached out to Bayley asking him to update the beat on the track “Money” featuring Rick Ross. Bayley had sent the track to Ludacris roughly four years earlier. After a single attempt at updating the beat, Bayley sent it back to Ludacris’ team, and that version was released. “It was one of those opportunities for me to prove myself as a producer. They didn’t know whether or not I could successfully update it or make it better,” Bayley says. “I think I did make it better.” Realizing that change played an instrumental role in his work as a producer, Bayley quickly learned the risk involved with a career in the music industry. “If I’m not making the best music that I possibly can, I don’t survive, and that’s something that’s going to drive me internally forever,” Bayley says. Often, especially in art, we hold things to an unattainably high standard. We demand that musicians make infallible choices, yet, that idea is in direct conflict with the humanity responsible for creating the art in the first place. Just like Bayley strives to make his music resonate with as many people as possible, we try to improve ourselves so we can handle the world around us. Music, much like the human emotion it conveys, can never truly be perfect. It can, however, help us navigate our lives with a greater understanding.
listen. learn. follow. @djpain1
FALL 2018 / 19
confessional
20 / EMMIE
art by madeline rasmussen BAD RELIGION frank ocean two I SHOT THE SHERIFF bob marley & the wailers three MAN DOWN rihanna four CAN’T REMEMBER teen body five LOVIN’ IS BIBLE the aces six LONG TIME somme seven BALLAD OF THE DYING MAN father john misty eight THE SYSTEM ONLY DREAMS IN TOTAL DARKNESS the national nine NEED A LITTLE TIME courtney barnett ten BONES alexandra savior one
FALL 2018 / 21
by henry michaels 22 / EMMIE
art by geordon wollner
The Rebirth of Spiritual Jazz
THE REBIRTH OF SPIRITUAL JAZZ
Spiritual jazz evokes the 1960’s works of John Coltrane. From “A Love Supreme” to “Meditations,” to “Om,” he experimented with transcendence, prompting other artists like Pharoah Sanders and Lonnie Liston Smith to reach beyond standard jazz language, to channel the vocalizations of the Southern Baptist Church and to explore Asian religious practices. This group of jazz pioneers emerged during an era of chaos. Tensions exploded across the U.S. as the Civil Rights movement and other efforts at social transformation began to take shape. This prompted a search for a higher power, not only in jazz, but across the musical spectrum to unite a divided nation. Today represents a similar moment of crisis where the stakes in art are high. Artists are asking new questions as they attempt to issue a new kind of call and response: one that is able to build upon the legacy of early pioneers and make noise within a cluttered information sphere. It makes sense that spiritual jazz is making its return now. Two artists leading the way are Shabaka Hutchings and Kamasi Washington. Together, they represent a united diaspora. Coming from opposite ends of the Atlantic, Hutchings from London and Washington from Los Angeles, their sounds find a new sustenance in spiritual jazz: rekindling spirituality and community around group improvisation.
Hutchings’ sound and aesthetic are rooted in movement. His early upbringing in Barbados and move to London at the start of his teenage years informs his diverse and eclectic style, which draws on everything from the vibrant drum patterns of Caribbean carnival to the street-level intensity of grime. Hutchings taps into the “spiritual jazz” tradition in a similarly individualistic manner. In a piece he wrote for The Vinyl Factory about his favorite spiritual jazz tracks, Hutchings articulates how he thinks of spirituality as an individual process and tool to understand a world that is constantly changing, rather than a fixed entity. This act of reevaluating and questioning is a fundamental part of the jazz impulse. Washington embodies a similar philosophy. His work with artists like Kendrick Lamar have helped popularize the jazz look and aesthetic, while still reflecting on the dynamic improvisations of Charlie Parker and the spiritual intensity of John Coltrane. Washington’s tightly knit group of bandmates, which at times includes his father Ricky Washington, represents a forming of his own congregation: exemplifying the spirituality of communion in a group practice. His two major releases, The Epic and Heaven and Earth, encompass enough material to rival that of biblical work and reflect his overtly cosmic ambitions. Hutchings and Washington have brought a new energy to jazz, pushing it beyond its confines as a genre to open up new modes of communication. In a time at which garnering attention has become harder and harder, artists like Hutchings and Washington make it hard not to listen.
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RED LIGHT WRITING WITH
FLINT EASTWOOD by geordon wollner 24 / EMMIE
photographed by cameron smith / @cameronsmithphoto
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RED LIGHT WRITING
Some time after 11 p.m., somewhere along Pike Street on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, I saw her jump off the bench, throw her hands up in the air and yell. (Loudly.) She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t upset. She was a little excited, a little nervous, and, with a smile on her face, was pacing wildly in front of me. A few months latern I’m sitting again with Jax as formerly know
Anderson (aka Flint Eastwood), this time in Colectivo Coffee in Milwaukee, asking her what she does when she gets excited. “I pace. You’ve seen me pace,” she laughs as she finishes her espresso. “I like the idea of being excited about something. I like the thrill and the challenge of taking a cool concept and figuring out the puzzle of making it happen.”
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JAX ANDERSON FLINT EASTWOOD
If anyone can put the pieces together, it’s Anderson. She has a way with convincing those around her to get their shit together and start writing their own destinies. She’ll coax your deepest dreams and innermost thoughts out into the open — an intrinsic set of characteristics for the Detroit-based artist. A filmmaker, photographer and musician, Anderson undeniably occupies a space that is completely unique, though never exclusive, to her. But as life progresses, spaces shift. “My biggest transformation has been learning to love and be myself fully and freely. It’s an ongoing transformation and is something that’s vital for everyone,” Anderson says. Arguably, that shifting energy — her vitality — comes from the ability to look at what’s in front of her now and process it, accept it, or not, and express herself, for herself, and for anyone else that may be trying to obtain a new lease on life. At a young age, Anderson had to develop a scrappy, tenacious attitude in order to understand her world. Afternoons spent watching “That 70’s Show” reruns in her living room while strumming her father’s Taylor 12 string, a gift from her late mother, and seeing her oldest brother playing drums and “going crazy” in the untamed Detroit punk scene as a teen, left her entranced by the art existing around her. The distinct way of craft and unapologetic integrity within the punk scene instilled in Anderson the open-door, collaborative work ethic she stands by today.
“As someone who has actually lived through it, that’s very toxic and very wrong,” Anderson says. “You are perfect just as you are. Be yourself. The faster that you learn to love yourself completely, the happier you’ll be.” “It was like, ‘Oh, you don’t have a venue? We’re going to make a venue. Oh, you don’t have merch? We’re going to make our own merch,” Anderson says. “I thought that was very fascinating to take the concept of not needing anybody else, just yourself and your friends. And so whenever I started making music I definitely took a lot of those concepts and put them into play. Like, anything is possible. If you can dream it, it can happen.” Looking at Anderson, we immediately feel that punk energy pulsing and radiating out of her, notably with her loud and off the wall stage presence. Not many would venture to guess she grew up in a religious family, nor would they attribute any time spent in church during her youth to the development of her creative outlets. The church of her childhood, the church rooted in her creative origins, also told her that she needed to change, that something was wrong with her, that she wasn’t “right.” Over the course of 2018, the church held “conversations” (i.e. gay conversion therapy) for girls aged 11 to 13 that were questioning their sexual and gender identity. “I was one of those girls at one point they were having these conversations with,” Anderson says as she shakes her head. “It put me very deep in the closet, it gave me a lot of issues with anxiety and depression and self-hate for a very long time for what they said to me.” These so-called workshops set forth ideas in young adolescents that, who they are and who they feel they are, isn’t valid.
The “conversations” were met with protest, but when the pastor leading the class received an award, honoring his “efforts,” Anderson couldn’t shake the ghosts of her past. Three days later, a producer at Assemble Sound (a music collective founded by Anderson, her brother and other Detroit creatives) sent her a folder containing a piano loop that eventually became the foundation for her single “Real Love,” released in June 2018. “I played it and it just felt very gospel,” she says. “As soon as I heard it, the first line [in ‘Real Love,’] ‘Can I be honest for a minute / I found peace when I lost religion’ immediately came out, and it started to unfold and was written within a 30-45 minute period.” From this stream of conscious came an unintentional narrative. The “Fruits of the Spirit,” a concept under the Christian religion, states that if you’re a “good” Christian, your life will produce several truths and the closer to God (i.e. the more enlightened) you’ll be. These fruits — love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control — had cordially manifested themselves into the words of ‘Real Love.’ “I went back through and mentioned all the fruits of the spirit,” Anderson says, reflecting on the process. “And how I obtained them by being myself and being an openly gay person and accepting myself and loving myself, even though the church said I would never find those things.” continued...
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RED LIGHT WRITING
The way she sees the world, the way she interacts with it and forces it to move, all with a tender touch and compassionate spirit, is conveyed through a special sensibility she possesses and all that she has found; It’s powerful. But beyond the surface, even the strong meet adversity and are troubled by their own battles. Looking to someone and saying “we don’t love each other anymore” isn’t easy. After she and her girlfriend of five years parted, Anderson, like most people, needed a way to understand her feelings. “Two weeks after it happened I got into the studio and turned on this red light that was, for some reason, in my studio — I have no idea how it got there,” she says with a shrug and a smile. “But there was this red light and, I turned it on and I spent a full 24 hours in the studio, and I just wrote a bunch of songs, all in consecutive order.”
“My hope is that, by me “For me, it was like I unintentionally being honest and vulnertold the story of what it feels like to experience heartbreak for the first able, it can help other peotime, because that’s something that ple be vulnerable about I’ve never addressed,” Anderson says of her latest release, This is a Coping the things that they’re Mechanism for a Broken Heart. “I’ve dealing with.” never really written about love before.”
Although not originally written with the intent of becoming a story, post-creation Anderson intentionally compiled all six songs, now chapters, into a 23-minute, full-length piece — The Handbook — seamlessly and truthfully pulling us along a raw confessional of her heart, one chapter at a time.
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“I process life experiences by creating art and I always have. It’s very healing,” Anderson says. “My hope is that, by me being honest and vulnerable, it can help other people be vulnerable about the things that they’re dealing with.” Vulnerability requires introspection and therein lies strength. In this moment of pause and consideration, we actually think about ourselves, about how we feel and about what we desire. The rawest pieces of Anderson’s identity and music act in unison, demanding attention from all those in contact with them, revealing the authenticity, originality and passion behind her work. Anderson found her red light fortuitously at her feet. The light, which by no means needs be constrained to a form of glass, filament and wire, guides us to where we need to be, when we need to be there — no matter the time, no matter the space. It is a moment in which we envelop ourselves in completely to feel something, or maybe it’s just a space for us to begin to understand something. Regardless of the reason, the red light we regard has a fiery influence that pushes and pulls us onward as we move throughout our lives. It exists not to occupy our space, but to illuminate it. Ablaze in incandescent red, we are exposed. Our inhibitions fade into the heat and we are restored to our most primitive form. Our fortitude is at its peak in the moment we allow ourselves to speak in tongues of passion and exploit them, willingly. Anderson, having found the strength to share her vulnerability to find peace, opens up the gate for the rest of us to follow suit. In her fire, in her hurt, the affirmation of the existence of some divinity is mobilized. To Anderson, “Divine’ is commanding. It says something is untouchable, yet wise. It also says ‘don’t fuck with me.’ It’s out of reach, but very much in sight.” stream. follow. @jaxanderson this story was updated july 2019
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know you now by amy whinehouse god bless the dead by 2pac i wish i was sober by frightened rabbit wings by mac miller i say a little prayer by aretha franklin
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AFTE
when my heart beats like a hammer by bb king if i was your girlfriend by prince tecumseh valley by townes van zandt swings and waterslides by viola beach cry me a river by ella fitzgerald
RLIFE
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written by geordon wollner
photographed by bia jurema / @biuh
Rising L.A. artist Somme has us under her spell. The young artist, having already played alongside familiar names Jax Anderson (@jaxanderson), Chelsea Jade (@iamchelseajade), Lauren Ruth Ward (@laurenruthward), and Tillie (@ whoistille), and launching her debut song and video on NYLON in June 2017, Somme has set standards high. A noteworthy new artist and storyteller of what it means to love and be loved, Somme is a breath of fresh air for anyone willing to listen, holding a firm place within contemporary queer culture and the LGBTQ+ community. Distance kept us from having seven minutes with Somme, so seven questions will have to suffice.
SEVEN IN HEAVEN with Somme
SEVEN IN HEAVEN
TELL US ABOUT A NOTABLE MEMORY, RELATING TO ANYTHING. / SOMETHING THAT CONTINUES TO SHAPE THE WAY YOU THINK TODAY?
01.
Unfortunately, the first notable memory that comes to mind is the day Tr*mp was elected. I remember that day so vividly. It reminds me to never assume something is a sure thing....even when it seems so sure. WHAT ARE YOUR CREATIVE MEDIUMS OF CHOICE? /WHAT’S YOUR PROCESS OF CREATION LIKE?
02.
I think about music all of the time. Melodies and lyrics are constantly entering and leaving my mind, whether I want them to be or not. There are definitely things and times of day that trigger it more. When I see a film I really love or when I go on a walk at dusk and the sky is pink it will inspire a melody, or lyrics, or a concept for a song and I’ll write it down or record it into my phone really quick and then build songs off of that. 03.
WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU ARE YEARNING TO EXPERIENCE OR LEARN?
I’m dying to play shows outside of the US and experience how the crowds differ around the world. 04.
AT WHAT MOMENTS DO YOU FEEL THE MOST PASSIONATE, FEEL THE MOST YOU?
I have quite a few friends who work creatively as well and it’s really exciting and inspiring to be able to create with them. Even just showing each other what we’re working on at the moment and giving each other notes and words of encouragement can be really helpful with finishing a project and maintaining the passion. 05.
HOW DO YOU COPE WITH A BROKEN HEART?
I used to just push all my feelings aside and hope they went away but I quickly learned that that doesn’t work. Those feelings kind of just get buried and bubble up months later. So now I try not to ignore the sadness or anger or whatever negative things I’m feeling but address them and understand them deeper and accept them. Writing about it helps with that a lot. 06.
DO YOU HAVE ANY RITUALS?
I find journaling super important for my sanity and creative process, especially in the morning. I have a much clearer mind on days when I’m able to take the time before I leave the house to jot down what [has] been on my mind and things I’m observing around me. It allows me to think about those things in a less obsessive and more productive way throughout the day. 07.
TELL US A SECRET.
If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.
stream. follow. @somme
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RIDE THE RAVE art by bri bailey
by abbey meyer
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RIDE THE RAVE
The feeling of transcendence, often associated with a sense of spirituality or connection to a higher power, truly defines the EDM scene in the minds of ravers everywhere. What’s often described as an “otherworldly experience,” EDM and rave music have grown to gather a type of cult following unique to the genre, defined by bright flashing lights, unique sets, outlandish outfits and costumes, and huge crowds of people sharing one specific goal: the desire to forget the world around them and surrender themselves to the sound of bass. Growing in popularity in the U.S. after 2000, rave culture has since assimilated into mainstream music, as notable DJs like Daft Punk and Flux Pavillion collaborate with famous artists like Childish Gambino and Kanye West. Larger music festivals have adapted to this change, announcing headliners like Beyoncé while featuring groups like Odesza and TroyBoi to gather a larger and more diverse crowd. Traditional rave shows and EDM festivals, however, have grown to be stigmatized by the type of crowd they generate. The cult following of EDM and rave artists is often associated with heavy drug use, where attendees are assumed to only find enjoyment in lucid and psychedelic trips while at these shows rather than the experience of seeing these DJs live. “People think it’s not real music and DJs aren’t really talented,” UW-Madison student Jake Zabel says. Having attended three different music festivals and countless raves in his lifetime, Zabel knows the stigma surrounding rave culture couldn’t be further from the truth. “The culture at festivals is definitely really about being kind to and loving one another and enjoying the music together,” Zabel says. The EDM community is one that is more accepting and inclusive than many of its counterparts. The idea that raves provide a sense of connection to a higher power sounds far-fetched, but many EDM fans associate the experience of a rave with a feeling of euphoria.
Zabel credits this to a kind of crowd connection felt at live shows. “There are so many people doing the same thing and enjoying the moment exactly as you are, it really makes you feel like you belong,” he says. Many EDM fans choose to disregard the stigma surrounding rave culture and pursue festivals regardless. In Zabel’s experience, he says the crowd itself is often more friendly and less intimidating at festivals than anywhere else. “You really feel like you’re connecting with everyone around you on a deeper level than you ever would without the energy of the festival,” Zabel says. Fashion surrounds a large part of EDM culture. The grandiose stage production of EDM shows largely symbolizes the creative energy of the artists and influence attendees to get creative with their ensembles. Neon colors, busy patterns and a lot of merchandise from artists make up a large part of EDM inspired fashion. “Outfits are important because everyone can wear whatever they want without any judgement at all,” Zabel says. Totems made to gather attention from crowds litter fields as people exchange bracelets and other items to complete the festival experience. EDM culture is alive overseas as well. Major festivals such as Tomorrowland and Ultra thrive in Europe. Further east, the Sunburn festival in Pune, India attracts thousands of people from over 42 countries. This diversity sets EDM culture apart, allowing people from all over the world to gather and enjoy music together. EDM gives a voice to those who have grown apart from mainstream culture. These shows encourage thousands of people to enjoy a moment together regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation or physical attribute which in today’s culture, could definitely be argued as a transcendent experience.
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Divine written and photographed by matthew weinberger
Creation
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DIVINE CREATION
A CONVERSATION WITH BEAR IN THE FOREST The drive to create and innovate is a divine, innate and uniquely special quality of humanity which differentiates us from all other creatures. Generation after generation, people have been ushering new ideas, inventions and trends into their own spirit. Artists have an especially distinctive drive to create, as their artistic pursuits may not necessarily have an inherently practical application, yet it is the creations of artists which affect, influence and shape our culture more than any other practice. Every artist has a unique creative process and draws influence from their own distinct sources. I had the opportunity to spend an evening with Madison-based band Bear In The Forest as they rehearsed some new songs in their cramped, underground studio. I talked with them about where they draw their inspiration from, and how they felt their creative process related to the divine. Bear In The Forest is a new iteration of Alberto Kanost’s solo project, similarly titled Bear in The Forest, but more has changed than just the second word of the band’s name. Kanost has been joined by a smattering of talented musicians including Benny Koziol on keys, Nick Urban on bass and sax, Kameron Kudick on the drums, Chris Zak on guitar and Thomas Curtis playing guitar and occasionally contributing vocals. Koziol is known for two of his own projects, Magic Rivers and Mittelstadt, as well as recording as a solo artist. Urban plays guitar for Camp Friends as well as guitar for the Milwaukee-based project Arthur Ellison. Both Curtis and Zak played together in the Milwaukee-based band Todd’s Basement.
Together as Bear In The Forest, each band member brings their own background to the mix, resulting in an indie rock sound with elements of folk, jazz and blues. I was curious as to how the guys in the band thought that creating music could somehow be related to the divine, so I asked them about their own experience creating music. Inspiration comes from places unknown to whoever is inspired. Something I found especially relevant when discussing the question of inspiration and its potential origins was when Zak, who often offers strong contributions to the band’s song writing process, said “I don’t believe anyone truly writes an original song. Rather, they find it.” Zak explained he believed that “nobody wrote the C Major scale, it has existed throughout eternity. Rather, somebody found it.” He went on to say that “if you are lucky enough to be that sort of signal, you can tap into that and share it. You are the gateway, or the vessel, for a song.”
Kanost offered his own perspective regarding the at times divine feeling of improvisation, saying that there are moments it feels as if “you are going into a different plane and tapping into divinity. My eyes roll back into my head and I’m somewhere else. That’s god to me. That’s my religion: playing music.” Kudick shared a different, yet equally insightful attitude. He says, “For me it’s less personal, that feeling is only achieved with help from other people. I think that element of togetherness is what makes me feel emotional.” continued...
Improvisation plays a major role in Bear In The Forest’s music, with most of their songs utilizing improvisational moments to create their distinctive sound. I was interested in finding out about the feelings associated with the experience of improvising music. Curtis gave me some insight, explaining that, “there are moments when playing a song can feel almost… religious, or out of body.” At that moment Kudick interjected, “Like that solo you had tonight.” The band members all chuckled. Curtis continued to explain to me that feeling, saying that “It just takes you to another spiritual level. Something else takes over... and you just let it take over.”
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DIVINE CREATION
Kudick shared a different, yet equally insightful attitude. He says, “For me it’s less personal, that feeling is only achieved with help from other people. I think that element of togetherness is what makes me feel emotional.” Kudick continued in a Lennon-esque way, saying, “I feel like more people should try to do anything together, because I feel like that really channels positive energy into the world.” The Koziol explained his experience was that “it’s like group prayer. One person says something and then it’s like, ope, damn, we’re up here now... Honestly it’s a very powerful feeling of imagination and soul being in a room of people who are all simultaneously tuned into the same channel and all giving off different things. It’s unlike anything else.” Again Kudick interjected saying, “It’s church.” Mumbles of agreeance came from around the room. Our conversation regarding the many ways creation and improvisation may feel divine was wrapped up with an additional perspective when Urban gifted the room with some wisdom: “I just think it’s so conversational… It’s the humanity of it. The ability to speak to others without using your words — that purely human connection through something non-verbal.”
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“ The ability to speak to others
without using your words — that purely human connection through something non-verbal.”
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TONGUES
art by geordon wollner
SPEAKING LIGHTS ON _ FKA TWIGS / 02. SAME SOUL _ PVRIS / 03. PIEL _ ARCA / 04. JUNGLE RAJA _ NUCLEYA FT. DIVINE / 05. MACHINE GUN _ PETER BROTZMANN / 06. HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS _ COCTEAU TWINS / 07. HOST OF THE SERAPHIM _ DEAD CAN DANCE / 08. CREATION _ SABRINA CLAUDIO / 09. 100 YEARS _ FLORENCE & THE MACHINE / 10. JAMNAPAAR _ RAGA 01.
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KELELA by morgan winston
CONCERT 42 / EMMIE
GALLERY
35mm
POST ANIMAL by morgan winston
35mm
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JAY SOM by geordon wollner
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MELKBELLY by matthew weinberger
MS LAURYN HILL by morgan winston JAPANESE BREAKFAST by morgan winston
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THE DECEMBERISTS by daniel klugman
MOM JEANS by ashley evers
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SLOW PULP by morgan winston
35mm
THE FLORISTS by matthew weinberger
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SPECIAL THANKS TO: WISCONSIN UNION PRESIDENT mills botham Through the publishing of our seven student-run journals and magazines, the Publications Committee of the Wisconsin Union Directorate provides a creative outlet for UW-Madison students interested in creating poetry and prose, reporting on music and fashion, or delving into research in science and public policy. We celebrate creativity on campus by providing `hands-on experience in publishing, editing, writing, and artmaking.
PUBLICATIONS COMMITTEE DIRECTOR fernanda martinez PUBLICATIONS COMMITTEE ADVISOR jen farley CREATIVE ASSOCIATE DIRECTOR sadeq hashemi
emmiemusic.com @emmiemagazine
THE DIVINE ISSUE.