JUMP summer 2013 (issue #10)

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ISSUE #10

SUMMER 2013

SUGAR TONGUE SLIM HAS A WAY WITH WORDS THE WASTED ISSUE: JELL-O MAN PAUL VILE, THE BARBARY, WORK DRUGS, PAT MARTINO, CHLOË WAGNER & MUCH, MUCH MORE

CONTENTS | Issue #10

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Summer 2013

THE JUMP OFF Liberty Bellows, Brandon Pankey, Cruiser, Anthropic Records, Work Drugs, Julian Coleman, TeFF, Philly street performers, Kindred The Family Soul, Zwaanendael, Joint Chiefs of Math, Feed The Muse, Homer Jackson and the Philadelphia Jazz Project, Pat Martino.

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THIS PLACE ROCKS Chris' Jazz Cafe, summer 2013 Philadelphia venue map, Scene City - our favorite places to hear music, The Guild, West Kensington Ministry at Norris Square, The Barbary, Chloe Wagner and Requiem.

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MUSIC & POLITICS Recreation Department Commissioner Susan Slawson oversees operations at the historic Dell Music Center.

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MUSIC & EDUCATION The GrassROOTS Community Foundation, supported

by The Roots, aims to create healthy young women, who will grow up and create healthy communities.

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COVER stories: The WASTED ISSUE Wasted talent, wasted time, wasted nights, etc.

Throughout this isse, you'll find stories that hint at things that could have been (some of which are now) .

Sugar Tongue Slim is a writer who happens to be a rapper. The Atlanta native found a home, respect and good friends here in Philly.

When he was a kid, Reef The Lost Cauze fell into the violent street culture of the city. But the defiantly independent rapper turned his life around and now performs almost as a social critic and urban philosopher.

Paul Vile, brother of Kurt, is known on the festival circuit as Jell-O Man, the dude with gelatinous shots that will get you wasted. But he's also a talented musician trying to figure out his life.

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FOOD THAT ROCKS There are a ton of places all over the city to get drunk. And there are a ton of places to get food. But here are nine of our favorite late-night places to get food while drunk.

COVER PHOTO: Sugar Tongue Slim, by Michael Bucher.

BACK COVER: Reef The Lost Cauze, by Marie Alyse Rodriguez.

CONTENTS PAGE: (top to bottom) Cruiser, by Kate Harrold. Kindred The Family Soul Michael Bucher. The Barbary, by Rick Kauffman. Sugar Tongue Slim, by Michael Bucher.

JUMPphilly.com

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publisher G.W. MILLER III managing editor CHRIS MALO deputy editors BETH ANN DOWNEY, NIKKI VOLPICELLI senior staff SOFIYA BALLIN, MEGAN MATUZAK, KEVIN STAIRIKER contributors SEBASTIAN ADE, NAVEED AHSAN, RACHEL BARRISH, TIMOTHY BECKER, BRITTNEY BOWERS, MICHAEL BUCHER, CARY CARR, SHARON CALVIN, ASHLEY COLEMAN, ANEESAH COLEY, CHESNEY DAVIS, GRACE DICKINSON, KELSEY DOENGES, MATTHEW EMMERICH, JESSICA FLYNN, SHAUN FRAZIER, JEFF FUSCO, JESSICA GRIFFIN, ASHLEY HALL, KATE HARROLD, LUONG HUYNH, KURT HUNTE, GRETA IVERSON, MORGAN JAMES, GABRIELLE LAVIN, RICK KAUFFMAN, NIESHA MILLER, TIESHA MILLER, BRENDAN MENAPACE, CAROLINE NEWTON, ED NEWTON, BRANDEE NICHOLS, ELIZABETH PRICE, ABIGAIL REIMOLD, DANA RICCI, MARIE ALYSE RODRIGUEZ, CHAD SIMS, THAD SUZENSKI, BRITTANY THOMAS, RYAN TREITEL, JONATHAN VAN DINE, ZAKEE VAUGHN, BRIAN WILENSKY, BREE WOOD chief copy editor AARON JOLLAY designer KATE BODNAR WE PRINT 10,000 FULL-COLOR ISSUES FOUR TIMES PER YEAR, IN MARCH, JUNE, SEPTEMBER AND NOVEMBER. WE DISTRIBUTE THEM FREE AT PHILLY AREA MUSIC VENUES, STUDIOS, RESTAURANTS, RECORD SHOPS, BARS, CLOTHING BOUTIQUES, GYMS, BOOK STORES, COFFEE SHOPS, UNIVERSITIES, CLUBS AND OTHER PLACES WHERE MUSIC LOVERS HANG OUT. IF YOU WANT MAGS AT YOUR LOCATION, EMAIL US AT JUMPPHILLY@GMAIL.COM. JUMP is an independent magazine published by Mookieland Inc. The parent company is named after a dog. That's how corporate we are (we're not).

This is a full-on, DIY community effort. If you want to get involved, if you have story ideas or if you just have something to say, contact us at jumpphilly@gmail.com.

Find us on online at jumpphilly.com or facebook.com/jumpphilly.

Follow us on twitter - @jumpphilly.

We really need advertisers. Advertising money allows us to print this magazine and tell stories about the awesome people doing awesome stuff in Philly. By supporting JUMP, you are supporting the local music scene.

Philly rocks. Spread the word.

JUMPphilly.com

Publisher's Note

I'll Be The Judge Of That My dog, Mookie, has a cardiologist. And every six months or so, we drive out to Malvern to see the doctor.

It's an awful journey — simply seeing the Schuylkill Expressway increases my stress level tenfold. I can't imagine living in one of those little boxes on the hillside that I can see while I'm stuck in inexplicable traffic during the middle of the day. If I had to do this regularly, I'd freak out.

Eventually we leave the highway and things become more bucolic.

Beyond the strip malls and the giant Wegman's, there are trees. It seems strange to not be surrounded by brick, concrete and asphalt, as I am back home in the city.

At the veterinarian's office, I see people and they appear different as well. I'm not sure what it is but they don't look like urban dwellers.

Not that I have any style at all, but these people seem to have abandoned even trying to look good (I at least try).

A few days before our visit, I had seen Ghostface Killah at The Blockley. As I sit in the waiting room, I can't help but wonder if these folks even know who Ghostface is. Could anyone here bust out ODB's lyrics from "Protect Ya Neck"? I doubt it.

Because of this magazine, I experience so much. A few days before I saw Ghostface, I attended an electronic dance-music party featuring Dutch trance DJ Armin Van Buuren. There were thousands of scantily clad young people dancing outside at Festival Pier. That same day, I saw Brit soul singer Alice Russell at World Cafe Live and Australian indie/electro rock band Gold Fields at the TLA. The day before that, I watched the Martha Graham Cracker Cabaret at L'Etage. It was a hilarious show starring a 6-foot-4-inch drag queen who was draped in a yellow kimono with Geisha makeup.

Everywhere I go, I look at the people and I wonder if they would read this magazine. Are they curious about the world or are they happy in their own? Do they care about what we think is interesting, like Kurt Vile's brother, the Jell-O Man? Or about an accordion shop in Queen Village? Or about Kindred, a legendary husband and wife R&B duo? Will white people even pick up a magazine that features black dudes — rappers! — on both the front and back covers?

Every once and a while, I laugh when I think about my role as a gatekeeper of information. Who am I to say what music you should be listening to? Who am I to say what is funny, intriguing, controversial?

The reality is that I'm just a dude who lives in the city and spends a ton of money on a cardiologist for his dog. I'm no expert in anything (which is also amusing since my regular job is as a college professor).

Instead of us critiquing anyone or anything, in JUMP we simply present you with a world of ideas. You be the judge of whether it is relevant to your life. We're just challenging you to explore.

- G.W. Miller III JUMPphilly.com

The JUMP Off

INSIDE: LIBERTY BELLOWS p. 8 / BRANDON PANKEY p. 9 / CRUISER p. 10 / ANTHROPIC RECORDS p. 11 / WORK DRUGS p. 13 / JULIAN COLEMAN p. 14 / TeFF p. 15 / STREET PERFORMERS p. 16 / KINDRED THE FAMILY SOUL p. 19 / ZWAANENDAEL p. 20 / JOINT CHIEFS OF MATH p. 21 / FEED THE MUSE p. 21 /

Photo by G.W. Miller III.

HOMER JACKSON p. 22 / PAT MARTINO p. 22 /

JUMPphilly.com

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Photo by Chris Malo.

The JUMP Off

Squeezebox Renaissance Michael Bulboff discovered the accordion and fell in love with the instrument. So he opened an accordion shop, Liberty Bellows.

Liberty Bellows' owner Michael Bulboff grew up in the Northeast and took piano lessons until stumbling across his father's accordion. Being of Polish descent, it was passed from one generation to the next until it was bestowed onto him. Immediately, he connected with it.

"You think you are picking an instrument but in reality," Bulboff muses, "the instrument picks you."

Philadelphia has long been a city of immigrants. Over the course of time, the influx of immigrants from various other countries brought not only people, but culture and customs to the city. Those coming from places like Poland, Italy and Germany often packed their accordions along with their hopes and dreams when they set sail for the new country.

“There were tons of accordion schools down South Broad Street and in North Philly,” says Bellows’ employee Evan Perry-Giblin.

But when Elvis Presley hit Ed Sullivan's stage, putting rock 'n' roll into the spotlight, the accordion became passé. What was once a staple of many genres of music became virtually taboo, banished into obscurity.

With a resurgence in popularity of folk music and with bands like Arcade Fire and Beirut featuring the accordion - along with a new wave of immigrants from places like Mexico - the squeezebox is slowly coming en vogue again. But even if the instrument is getting more exposure and becoming more popular, it doesn’t mean anything if there's not a place to buy one or take lessons.

Bulboff had no inclination that owning an accordion store was his career or life calling. Initially he studied computer science at Princeton University.

“I got bored with that,” explains Bulboff. "Then, I did an economics masters' at Wharton. Got bored with that. Then thought that this was the real deal.

This is the real deal. I am going to be the best accordion fanatic in the world.

That’s the dream."

The dream began to take shape in 2005 while he was living at 18th and

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Sansom streets. As his skill level on the accordion progressed, he started teaching others how to play. When they showed up with junky accordions, he began tinkering with the 3,000 parts that make up the instrument and began doing repairs. When his roommate moved out, more and more accordions moved into the vacant bedroom. Soon he needed help and was joined by Kim Tice. Eventually the room became so full of accordions that when a tuckedaway Tice needed to get out, Bulboff would have to get up and leave to make room for Tice to exit.

Tice showed up with a U-Haul full of nearly 60 accordions from a music store that closed in Erie, Pa. It became clear that this was a legitimate and growing business. More space was needed. In 2010, the duo opened up shop in a temporarily roomy space on 9th Street in the Italian Market and they hired Perry-Giblin. Before long, there were 300 accordions in the shop from floor to ceiling, even hanging from the rafters.

“You would never guess how many accordion players there are,” PerryGiblin says with a laugh. "I guess they are all closet accordion players."

Once again, they packed up shop and moved to the more spacious (again, for the time being) 614 S. 2nd Street location in January. Already, the three floors of the former beauty salon are being put to good use. The first floor features dozens of beautiful accordions in the front, with repairs done in the rear. Walking up the first flight of stairs, you come face to face with a wall of masterfully crafted accordions. The second floor boasts an open practice space on one side and plenty of storage space on the other. A trip to the third floor again puts you in front of a virtual accordion museum in the staircase before reaching rooms used for lessons.

The shop staff's reverence for the accordion is obvious, from the displayed works of art to the manner in which they talk about the instrument. It is a love that this group of musicians wants to share with anyone interested.

“We want to have stuff people want to play,” says Bulboff. "We want them to like playing accordion. If they have ever just thought about it, just come in and try one.”

- Chris Malo

BOX REVIVAL: Evan Perry-Giblin, Alison Ruth and owner Michael Bulboff (holding Amelie) in the Queen Village accordion shop. facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Brandon Pankey represents the city, as well as some of music's biggest stars.

You would never know that the man in glasses sitting on the 19th floor of The Bellevue, overlooking Center City, has worked with some of biggest names in music — Drake, Jill Scott, Meek Mill, Keri Hilson and more.

Brandon Pankey is a star account manager at the Sports & Entertainment Financial Group.

The company helps plan tours from inception, including figuring out routes, creating budgets, hiring crew and ensuring artists are properly paid.

Although working as an account manager can sound like nothing but long office days and number crunching, he's had his brushes with the rock-star life, which he modestly discusses.

"2010,” he says with a laugh. “Miami. Drake’s birthday party. Fontainebleau. Porn stars. Free liquor all night. I won’t say I was there. I won’t say I wasn’t. I’m just saying.”

Pankey remains humble even after receiving many accolades, including being named one of Billboard's “30 Under 30: The Young Execs You Need to Know” in 2011. But what really keeps him grounded is a strong family, including a grandmother who would "cuss his ass out" if he ever got out of line.

Pankey grew up in the Logan section of

Photo by Timothy Becker.

From Logan To Luxury

Philadelphia and credits luck and hard work as the two factors that got him where he is today.

He studied communications with a minor in African-American studies at the University of Pennsylvania. He did several internships, including one at Mama’s Boys Music Group, the management company owned by Jerome Hipps and Michael McArthur here in Philadelphia.

“Their business manager at the time, Shawn Gee (owner of the Sports & Entertainment Financial Group), needed an assistant and they recommended me," Pankey says.

He worked his way up the ladder with Gee and now helps manage large-scale tours for stars like Nicki Minaj and Lil Wayne. He also finds himself working as a sponsor and a "keep-people-happy" liaison at The Roots Picnic every year.

The unofficial kickoff to the summer festival season in Philly, The Roots Picnic continues to stay fresh and draws a larger crowd each year.

"It's the opportunity to feel like a trendsetter, a tastemaker and all of those other buzz words marketing agencies like to use,” Pankey explains.

“The Picnic has some of the best performances from artists on the cusp of greatness. And it’s fun.

The backstage area is like a Philly music reunion.

It’s the one day where everybody can be proud to be from Philly and enjoy great music.”

Because he is such an influencer, Pankey was named a 2013 creative ambassador for Philly 360º.

“He exemplifies the city's next generation in the creative scene, not only for his work in entertainment but also for his dedication to giving back to youth,” says Sarah Janiszewski, program manager for Philly 360º, which is part

of the Greater Philadelphia Tourism Marketing Corporation.

The vast economic disparity for young African Americans in the city troubles him, so he works with several nonprofits that assist young people.

"Philly is next,” Pankey says. “The city is being cultivated to show the world that it’s just as incredible as the natives have known for years. I want to say that I went from Logan to luxury, and that I stayed in Philly to make that happen. I still have work to do before I ride off into the sunset."

- Ashley Coleman

Photo by Kate Harrold.

Spa Treatment The guys from Cruiser joked about going to the salon. And then it wasn't a joke. Sort of.

It all started as a joke or, rather, a Facebook chat planning a Cruiser photo shoot at a hair salon under those bulky, helmet-like hairdryer stations that purple-haired 80-year-olds from Staten Island like to sit under.

“I own one,” drummer Jonathan Van Dine indulges, talking about some regular ol’ plug-in blowdryer he’s got at home. "And a pumice stone."

But guitarist Josa Lazas won’t settle for that.

“No, I mean the like conehead cheese things,” he clarifies.

Frontman and founder of the group Andy States agrees, “Yeah, exactly those helmets.”

“They’re dryers," Van Dine says.

“I just want the shot to be really ‘Sex and the City’ vibe,” Lazas continues, and all agree.

And suddenly, it’s not a joke anymore. It is but it isn’t because now the phone calls and desperate attempts to find a cooperative salon through texts and social networking begin.

Hairstylist Audrey Traum and the girls at Volume Hair Studio at 18th and Chestnut streets come through, closing up the second-story shop for the guys. They offer a scene stocked with tabloid

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mags, hair products and swiviling salon chairs and an iPod fully stocked with Rihanna tunes.

Thankful, the guys pour themselves and their company some mimosas and get down to lathering each other’s heads and making fun of whoever’s doing the lathering at any given time.

Cruiser started as a vehicle for States’ solo recordings before Van Dine put some pressure on him to start a band. That’s what happened. And it happened in a similar way that this photo shoot happened — thanks to Facebook.

“Andy knows these other idiots and I started this dumb Facebook group,” says Lazas, who started the "Philly Musician Cult" group page as a destination for local musicians needing to buy or sell equipment, find a practice space or collaborate with other artists. Created out of Craigslist spite, he wanted a place where indie people could discuss with other indie people.

After two years, the group has more than 400 members and continues to be an essential resource for practicing musicians in the area.

“That’s such a Seinfeld thing — Craigslist spite

by Kramerica,” jokes Van Dine. “I thought Josa just showed up one day. Like the guy on the couch.”

States corrects him, “We went on a date. I put up a message on the Facebook group. Kyle’s the guy on the couch.”

Kyle Cook, who now plays bass for Cruiser, is on a plane during this Facebook session and can’t

defend himself against the couch allegations.

“Jon and I went to Kutztown together for design,” says States.

To be more exact, Van Dine remembers meeting the frontman exactly on August 28, 2003 when the two were in college together.

“Jon worked at a design agency with Kyle, who also knew my girlfriend at the time because they went to design school together," States continues.

"But kinda who cares. We are all in LOVE — Jon, Josa, Kyle, Andy.”

After releasing the group’s self-titled record in May 2012, the guys played countless shows up and down the East Coast, including a House of Blues performance with Matt & Kim and a sold-out Kung Fu Necktie show with fellow Philly breezepop groups Work Drugs and Night Panther.

But today they’re just a coupla guys begging for keratin treatments and flipping through glossy pages of predicted celebrity baby bumps.

And eating the cucumbers that were supposed to stay on their eyes to reduce any puffiness all of this performing might’ve plagued them with.

- Nikki Volpicelli *Special thanks to Audrey and the Volume Hair Studio crew (volumehairstudio.net), Seventeen magazine, Rihanna, Simply Orange Juice, Korbel Extra Dry Champagne, Freeman Feeling Beautiful Dead Sea Mineral Mask and Di Bruno Bros.' organic cucumbers. facebook.com/JUMPphilly

The JUMP Off Photo by Alyssa Lorenzon.

Heavy Metal and Hard Work Meet the team at Anthropic Records, the female-owned heavy metal label that represents a lot of doom, beards and tattoos.

There aren’t too many women who run heavy metal record labels but what Anthropic Records owner Shannon Ward lacks in the quantity of artists on her roster, she makes up for in quality. Working with bands, developing them and helping them reach their full potential may be her favorite part of owning her own label but she insists the bands do their share of the work.

“One of my mottos is 'I am only going to work as hard as you are,'” Ward says.

“If you aren’t going to work hard, this isn’t going to go anywhere.”

Anthropic Records' current roster is made up of Ominous Black, who have been described as cosmic beard metal, and Hivelords, a terrifying blend of black, doom and any other kind of scary metal. Until earlier this year, they also worked with Sadgiqacea but they recently signed with Candlelight Records.

“Even though they are moving on to Candlelight, it is a good thing for us,” Ward notes. “It will bring more interest to the label.”

Though one band is departing the label, the remaining two acts are holding it down. Ominous Black recently released a self-titled 10-inch album recorded by Steve Albini of Big Black and Shellac. Hivelords’ first album with Anthropic is expected to be released soon. There is also the fourth volume of Anthropic’s successful Anthrosphere compilation series, which features bands on the label as well as other heavy acts from around the region.

Looking at the guys in the bands, most people would see the bushy beards and tattoos and think that they were simply a bunch of tough guys. In truth, the musicians and label head are a funny, fairly down-to-Earth and seemingly close bunch. While many of them have been friends for years, it is also partially by design. They tour together, promote each other, create artwork for label mates (drummer Fred Grabosky does the art for Sadgiqacea and contributes to other Anthropic projects) and they even play in multiple bands together — Evan Void plays guitar in Sadgiqacea and drums in Ominous Black.

It’s a very positive creative venture for bands that could be perceived as being rather negative because of the dark and foreboding sounds associated

JUMPphilly.com

with metal music.

“There are a lot of terrible things happening all the time and you need a catharsis,” says Hivelords singer Kevin North. “If there is a way to sublimate that into something artistic, you have to take that opportunity.”

While the Anthropic bands all sound fairly different from one another, they do share some similarities.

“If there is any reason I listen to music,” North says, “it is to be perplexed, to be put into a state of questioning my own life, or questioning reality. And I feel that is what is happening at Anthropic right now. It is the epitome of that.”

For the bands and Ward, the label and the music is a labor of love. They all want to put out music that pushes boundaries and they will do whatever they must to get the music out there. For Ward, simply breaking even would be viewed as a success.

“I don’t have a trust fund,” she says. “I work really hard at my day job and save to put out records. I hope that the last record sells out so I can put out the next one.”

- Chad Sims

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Photo by Megan Matuzak.

The JUMP Off

Easy Writers The Work Drugs duo finds inspiration wherever the sun shines and fun can be had.

It takes a long time to find it but when you want to ride it, that ghost is gone. - “Mavericks” “Mavericks” is a sonic groove that seeps into your skin like the hot summer sun. This title track reveals the impetus of Work Drugs’ new album, which is due out on June 21st.

The band began writing “Mavericks” after a weeklong excursion to California last summer.

The way that the surfers at spots like Big Sur made their boards carve through the bright blue water impacted the Work Drugs duo of Tom Crystal and Ben Louisiana immensely. The surfers seemed like outlaws. The freedom of that lifestyle, which seemed to come so effortlessly, manifested itself in other tracks on the album, including “West Coast Slide” and “Young Lungs.”

“I like the idea of taking a trip to some place, using new imagery to get you moving,” explains Louisiana, who plays keyboard. “It’s great when people can draw from their day-to-day, but sometimes it gets so mundane. The impact of Philly today on me would be different to someone who hasn’t been here before. We felt that way when we were out there cruising on JUMPphilly.com

PCH, or in Big Sur. You see all these spots and it gets the wheels turning.”

“Sunset on High Street” was inspired by Los Angeles' homeless on Skid Row, which has one of the most consistent homeless populations in America. Skid Row is surrounded by what most people would consider paradise. The weight of such irony struck a chord in the bandmates.

A little bit of Philly also made its way onto the album in “Tigerbeats.” The song transports you over the trolley tracks to Frankford Avenue, with the boiling anticipation of what lies beyond the entrance of The Barbary for their particularly rowdy Monday night dance party.

That single, as well as “West Coast Slide” and “Young Lungs,” have already been posted on the band’s Facebook page, well in advance of the album’s release. Simply put, Crystal and Louisiana love to make music, and a lot of it.

“You feel it on your first gut instinct and you come up with something really quick off the top of your head, ” says Crystal, the lead vocalist and guitarist. “You’re like, 'Ah! this is good!' If it’s easy, it’s going to be good.”

In many ways, the duo has it all figured out.

They toured with Two Door Cinema Club in their earliest stages, when they only had three songs written. They opened for Peter Bjorn and John at the Trocadero in 2011. The band will head to Sweden for the second time to play the Hultsfred Festival this summer.

Without management or support from a major label, Work Drugs defines success by the reception of their music by audience members.

“We sold 200 vinyl records,” Crystal says. “They can steal all of it. They can listen to it on Spotify.

But people have bought it. People have bought T-shirts. People bought homemade CDs we made. There is this one guy from Sweden who has bought everything we have ever put out and outbids everyone when we put stuff up on eBay.” Crystal and Louisiana have assembled a solid live setup with the talents of Mr. Kansas City (bassist and vocalist), Katie Nicks (percussionist, saxophonist, guitarist and vocalist) and Jonas Oesterle (drummer). Even though the live band members are not a part of the writing process, Crystal and Louisiana refuse to play a show without them. On occasion, they have turned down a good bill simply because of a scheduling conflict for one of the live members.

“The music industry has changed so much that anyone who claims they know how it works now is lying,” Louisiana says. “Because they don’t.

It’s a brave new world in the music industry, as everyone tells us. We like challenging that and doing things differently.”

It’s the music they so easily create that has made them so popular. Simple as that.

“We don’t really care what is trending right now,” Louisiana says. “Good is good.”

- Megan Matuzak

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Photo by Michael Bucher.

The JUMP Off

In Constant Motion

Singer Julian Coleman bounced across the country as a child. Now, he's settled in but still making moves.

Since winning the Grammy U competition in April, 20-year-old Julian Coleman has had little time to reflect or even pause for a moment.

The guy literally will not slow down.

Coleman juggles his coursework at the University of the Arts with his job at the Apple store in King of Prussia and his burgeoning music career. He’s constantly writing and recording, and during the month-long Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts event in April, he commuted nearly an hour each way from his home in Mt. Airy to the Kimmel Center to perform in the musical “Flash of Time.”

It’s been difficult but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s really been a sacrifice but I enjoy what I’m doing,” he says.

Coleman was one of six artists chosen to perform one song in the Recording Academy Grammy U contest held at Milkboy. He sang his wistful composition, “Blinding Lights,” which talks about the different things in life that try to distract us while we’re on the path (Now at this time/I’m still alive/From all the time you spent with me/And the pain I felt/Is nothing but an empty dream).

“Honestly, I really wasn’t expecting to win,” he says. “I wasn’t even expecting to be picked for the contest. It was kind of like a ‘whoa’ moment.

I sang a song that really meant a lot to me so winning was a great feeling.”

Born in Philly, Coleman and his two siblings jumped from place to place while their father served in the Navy. The family moved from Philly to Virginia Beach, then to San Diego and finally settled back in Philly when Coleman was in the third grade.

Music has always been the one constant, impermeable force in his life.

He realized his love for performing after singing church solos at the early age of eight years old.

“Ever since (that young age), I’ve enjoyed it,” he says. “I used to be really bad but I ended up singing and I kept at it.”

The first song he learned to perform as a little boy was “Kiss From a Rose” by Seal.

The multi-faceted artist — he dabbles in dance and piano — graduated from the High School for the Creative and Performing Arts. His musical

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style takes elements from Justin Timberlake, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Beyonce, Jay-Z and Pharell, among others.

Coleman is now hard at work recording in the studio, sending demos to labels and working on another project with a collaborative hip-hop music group called 20/20.

He hopes to one day headline Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center. He’s yet to step foot in MSG but was given the opportunity to go to the Staples Center last February after he saved enough money

to attend the Grammy Awards with the Recording Academy, an experience that he says was absolutely incredible.

Coleman hasn’t let any of his recent success go to his head.

He still gets nervous before performances. When he sings, he still feels like he’s that 8-year-old boy at church.

“The satisfaction I have afterwards?” he says. “There’s nothing like it. I feel like everything makes sense.

I feel like I’m in my own zone.”

- Naveed Ahsan facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by Sharon Calvin.

In Riddim With Two Cultures Ambitious reggae and rap artist TeFF merges his Jamaican heritage with what he learned growing up in West Philly, creating his own particular sound.

Travis Johnson, better known as TeFF, creates music that seamlessly blends reggae and hip-hop together in a genre he calls “regg-hop.” Raised in both Philadelphia and Jamaica, TeFF allows his music to showcase both of his dominant cultures.

“I think it’s the best of both worlds,” he says.

“Philly’s got the best artists in the world, that’s what I say. And Jamaica is just the best place in the world to me.”

TeFF lends his vocals to popular and original hip-hop tracks, as well as Jamaican riddims and beats. People often praise him for the clarity of his music and talk about their ease of understanding the lyrics, unlike their experiences with some traditional reggae. He has garnered a large and diverse following. A fan from Germany reached out to him via Twitter and a young woman from London remixed a song of his, later sending her version to him.

“It was hot,” he says. “I never met her, some British girl. She just killed it though.”

The 28-year-old is far from his days of freestyling while attending Overbrook High School and his elementary school days spent tape recording his own voice. The latter resulted in an embarrassing little black tape that TeFF says will never be brought to light.

For the sake of music, sleep is often lost and all

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night recording sessions are inevitable. The bed perched up against one wall in the studio where he records proves the existence of overnight sessions.

“This shit is not a game,” TeFF says. “It’s sacrifice after sacrifice.”

TeFF’s ambition is fueled in part by his parents, Jamaican immigrants who came from nothing.

“My dad grew up pretty much on his own,” he says. “He left the house when he was like 12 and made a life. He’s here, ballin’, without the drugs, without the typical stereotype of a Jamaican coming to America.”

His mother is now a nurse at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. The examples set by his mothe and father are what drive TeFF. “No, I can’t get no rest,” he says. “I got 10 songs to ship out by next week. These DJs need it. These DJs need their drop over in Europe, in Jamaica, in Philly. We burning the candle on both ends. If it had more stems we’d burn those too.”

TeFF’s latest EP, Straight Off the Top, Vol. 4, was released and made available as a free download online in April. It was his sixth release and he has more ready.

“Pick any project, any mixtape,” says TeFF’s producer, Emmanuel “TuchPoint” Aden. “Play it from beginning to end. Name another artist that

can do what you just heard.”

This summer, TeFF will perform at Villa’s Stop the Violence Kick back Block Party in Southwest Philly and at the Atlantic City Carnival in July.

“Ambition trumps all,” he says often. “I want to live forever through my music.”

- Aneesah Coley

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The JUMP Off

Like a traditional banjo song, Huey has had his share of ups and downs.

“I am a man of constant sorrow/ I've seen trouble in my day,” sings Huey, covering Dick Burnett's song used in the film that originally inspired him.

He left college after one year because booze battered him in a bad way. In search of a fresh start, Huey moved back to Georgia with his father but the bottle Huey beat him again. He got in trouble for West drinking and driving and did some time in the local county jail.

“It's like Jekyll and Hyde,” says Huey about his past experiences with alcohol.

A tattoo of a bomb with a short fuse is prominent on top of his right hand. A vodka bottle with the slogan “never again” is visible on his forearm one of 25 tattoos that serve as reminders of past wild days.

If alcohol is a poison to Huey, he now delights in a different drink—melancholia.

“Say alcohol, why do you treat me so/ You’ve done me so dirty/ I won’t mess with you no more,” sings Huey in his song “Jacquin’s Liquor.”

Pigeons circle above while the sun casts its rays

behind Huey. Few shoppers pay attention to the banjo man singing Appalachian blues.

Huey puts his ear closer to the strings and adjusts the banjo’s pegs. He forgets about the people, the need to earn money or the fact that the temperature outside won't stay warm for long. He refuses to sing out of tune. It needs to be right.

“When you play on a stage, it's more controlled,” says Huey. “All the banjos are tuned.”

Huey is no stranger to the stage. MilkBoy in Ardmore, World Cafe Live and Kung Fu Necktie have given Huey a space to play. But it's just not always steady and busking has its own rewards.

“You are your own boss,” says Huey, who also sometimes strums in a band called The White Cheddar Boys. “When people started paying me, that's when I realized that I was a musician. That was a big revelation to me.”

Finally, with his eyes closed, the right hand beats the strings up and down with intensity. It's Huey and his banjo on the concrete stage. A long presson nail glued to his finger helps him achieve the clawhammer style - a raw and fast sound in which the player creates notes by striking the strings using the backs of the fingernails.

A couple of feet away from Huey, a woman stands with a yoga mat and a Buddha smile.

Shoppers pass in front and behind her. She’s undisturbed and caught in a blissful moment. The woman walks over and drops a $5 bill.

“He is particularly soulful,” says Laurie Taylor, a local resident who has seen Huey around town.

“He has a unique sound and a lot of energy. It's a treat when he comes out.”

Huey soon decides to pack it up. The busking session earns him $13.68 - not enough for rent but enough to for a pack of Mavericks and food for his rabbit, Roscoe. Today was not the luckiest of days. The previous week, a man gave him $50.

Huey hasn't eaten lunch but he does have a bit of luck is on his side. The Good Spoon owner offers him free chili. With a peaceful resignation, Huey goes to get the promised free food.

He drops some of his earned money in the tip jar.

He didn't have to tip but decides to pay it forward.

- Jumah Chaguan

his elementary school assemblies.

He went on to play in a few bands, Chris including Time in Motion, a 14-piece Hall ensemble that played at sororities and fraternities in Philadelphia, Chicago, Baltimore and Boston.

Hall says he used to watch a friend of his play on the street and think “what a bum,” assuming he wouldn’t end up in the same situation. But when

he was asked to go on tour with a band, he had to turn down the offer in order to take care of his mother, whose health was failing. By the time he was ready to return to the music scene, he had a hard time adjusting.

“I was like, ‘Wow. How am I going to make it now? Everything’s changed,’” he says.

So Hall decided to give street performing a try, moving between Center City, Old City and along South Street.

Hall says he has no problem with the limited amount of money street performers pocket.

“It’s representation without taxation,” he says, laughing. “You gotta love it.”

“It’s blue skies, it’s a stage,” he adds, looking up at the sun. “If you’re good, you will always be able to make it.”

Hall said, with God as his inspiration, he’s going to stick to performing in his hometown of Philly.

“If you can make it here, you can make it just about anywhere,” he says.

- Cary Carr

Everyday

Artists

Walk around town any given day and you'll hear wonderful music from random street performers. Here are a few of their stories.

It’s cold outside the Spread Bagelry on South 20th street. A busker with his accordion plays the tune from “The Godfather” to customers. Huey sees him but walks away. The owners of the shop gave Huey permission to play today, not this guy.

However, Huey’s not going to fight with an elderly man, especially a man in need of tips, like himself.

Huey needs the money bad. The rent has not been paid for the past two months. Luckily, the sun is out and the Farmers’ Market in Rittenhouse Square has a decent turnout. Perhaps Huey might have a shot after all.

William Huston West is his full name but he feels more comfortable with Huey. His baby sister gave him that nickname.

“Friends tell me that Huston West is a great country name,” says the 28-year-old. “Maybe I'll go with that name some day.”

Born in Atlanta, Huey moved north during his teens, settled in Wayne, PA and now lives in the city. Surprisingly, it was here that he discovered his devotion to banjo music when a high school friend played him the soundtrack of the movie “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”

“It was like lightning,” says Huey.

It’s hard not to notice Chris Hall. He sits directly outside Reading Terminal Market’s doors, playing his electric guitar and flashing a huge smile to anyone looking his way. He basks in the sunlight, seemingly without a care in the world, his playlist consisting of cool island music and jazz.

“It’s music that means something,” he explains.

Hall says his interest in music was first sparked in kindergarten when he played the xylophone for

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Huey West by Jumah Chaguan. Chris Hall by Timothy Becker. Felix Wilkins by G.W. Miller III.

Felix Wilkins plays his flute almost every afternoon while perched on or standing near an orange crate outside Reading Terminal Market.

While wearing a navy suit, he greets both visitors and Philadelphians with his bright blue eyes. The 71-year-old attracts a crowd with his contagious sense of humor (as well as with his music).

“I like to make jokes,” he says, “and I like the street audience.”

Wilkins started playing the flute when he was 7.

He went on to teach at Brooklyn College, Panama Canal College, the National Conservatory of Music in Mexico and the University of Panama. He decided to take his love of music to the streets 20 years ago after Felix retiring. Busking is now is only source of income.

Wilkins A Germantown resident, Wilkins has a strong background in jazz but refuses to stick to one genre of music. In fact, he would rather take requests to personally please pedestrians.

“Are you patriotic? Give me a patriotic song,” he commands. “Tell me any background. German?

Beethoven was German.”

His all-time favorite musicians range from classical composer Mozart to big band leader Duke Ellington.

Wilkins hasn’t always had an easy career as a street musician.

In 2007, he brought charges against the city, claiming that he was wrongfully arrested for playing the flute outside, a violation of his civil rights. As part of the settlement, Wilkins received

$27,500 and the police commissioner at the time, Sylvester Johnson, was required to issue a memorandum instructing officers that playing, singing and soliciting money in a public place are protected by the First Amendment.

Felix plans on retiring from the street someday.

But until then, you can still catch him patiently playing, awaiting his big break.

- Cary Carr

/ˌfōtəˈjenik/ — adjective — Producing or emitting light. Find out why at www.EveryoneIsPhotogenic.com JUMPphilly.com

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Photo by Michael Bucher.

The JUMP Off

A Philadelphia Family Affair West Philly native Fatin Dantzler and his wife, Aja Graydon, found success in the music business after having children and trying to make it in the normal world. They base their group, Kindred The Family Soul, out of their Southwest Philly home but they travel the country, showing off emerging Philly talent.

Aja Graydon and Fatin Dantzler sit beside each other in their studio near 60th Street and Baltimore Avenue in Southwest Philly. Their creative space is painted sky blue and is home to an old piano, keyboards, racks of clothing from local Philly designers ,and sketches and abstract oil paintings of the duo.

Before they were noted neo-soul artists, Kindred the Family Soul, were two musicians waiting on their big break. The two met during a studio session with The Roots in New York City.

The introduction was simple. He was writing and producing a song and she was singing. They later became songwriting partners.

“We just had a similar way of thinking and upbringing that really came together when we met,” Graydon recalls.

Dantzler remembers attending the Philadelphia School of Creative and Performing Arts with Amel Larrieux and members of Boyz II Men and The Roots. He had an interest in production but he could also sing and play both the saxophone and clarinet.

“There are a lot of people who went to that school who infused the creativity of everybody by just being around them,” he says. “It was a great experience.”

After spending two years at CAPA, he moved to Overbrook High School.

Those two years, however, strengthened his interest in music.

“That experience helped shape and mold who I became,” he says. “I got more serious and focused about my schooling and my education, as well as my music.”

Graydon grew up in Washington, D.C., and spent her childhood participating in children’s theater, even acting in a Shakespeare play while she was in the sixth grade. Because go-go music was popular during the time of her upbringing, she knew a lot of kids who played instruments and were a part of go-go groups.

It was hard for an artist to stand out in her city who wasn’t a part of the music culture, so she found inspiration elsewhere. She remembers the big names from Philly who played D.C..

“We had a connection to Philly in the sense where Philly artists were very loud and accepted in D.C.,” she says. “Frankie Beverly and Patti LaBelle would come to D.C. and sell out three or four shows. There was a big appreciation for live music that we grew up really loving.”

Graydon grew tired of high school and acquired her diploma after attending night classes. At age 17, she moved to New York City with her manager and his wife and she took vocal classes, danced and recorded music.

Dantzler and Graydon worked on projects together but Kindred the Family Soul didn’t officially form until after they married. With new responsibilities of marriage and later parenting, the two decided to hold off on pursuing music professionally. They took real jobs and lived like normal folks. The two moved to Philly while Graydon was pregnant with their first child.

After struggling during the loss of a job, Dantzler suggested they start a group and make music again.

“If we’re going to struggle, why not struggle doing this,” Graydon recalls JUMPphilly.com

KINDRED SPIRITS: Fatin Dantzler (left) and wife Aja Graydon in their Southwest Philly neighborhood. saying to Dantzler.

They started performing at hot party nights like Blue Funk at the Clef Club and the Black Lily at the Five Spot.

They knew they wanted their group’s name to have something to do with family, so they took suggestions from friends and did some research.

“We opened up a thesaurus and just landed on the page,” Dantzler says of finding the word kindred. “It jumped off of the paper and we got a magnifying glass.”

Many people think the duo was discovered by Jill Scott, but Dantzler knew Scott from growing up in the city. Graydon met her at Sigma Sound Studios before Kindred formed.

“It wasn’t the sense that we’re in this smoky club and Kindred’s playing,” says Graydon, “and Jill Scott happenstances upon this little group and says ‘You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to save you guys!’”

But Scott and her then boyfriend Lyzel Williams did connect them to Scott’s label, Hidden Beach Recordings, who signed Kindred in 2001.

While many successful artists leave Philadelphia during the height of their success, Dantzler and Graydon decided to stay. The two work on nonprofit programs in the city and they created Philly Jam Session, a monthly talent showcase that takes emerging artists to different cities to perform.

“We’re connected to the city,” says Dantzler. “Everything that we do comes from us being here, so to leave it is the sense that you’ll be disconnected from that.”

“Being a transplant, I love this city,” says Graydon. “I came to live here because my husband is here and it’s such a family and community environment here, period.”

In March 2013, Kindred the Family Soul released their fifth album, a 10th anniversary edition of Surrender of Love. The project features live versions of their 2003 debut album performed in London.

-Niesha Miller

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Photo by Michael Bucher.

The JUMP Off

Harnessing Hard Times The guys from Zwaanendael have experienced a lot, and it's all in their music.

FDR Skatepark, underneath the overpass of I-95 in South Philly, isn’t just the stomping ground for a slew of punks and skateboarders. It’s the incubator of a scene, built on a cornerstone of doit-yourself ethics. It’s one that fostered the rootsy punk band, Zwaanendael.

Zwaanendael, which means “Swan Valley” in Dutch, is inspired by the home state of the band’s intrepid front man Josh Marcinizyn. The Dutch established the colony of Zwaanendael in what is now the present day city of Lewes.

Marcinizyn played guitar in South Philly’s hardcore thrashers the Trowels, who disbanded during the summer of 2011. Drummer Adam Moffitt also played in the Trowels. Zwaanendael started to take flight when the pair started jamming on some songs Marcinizyn wrote that wouldn’t fit in as Trowels tunes.

“I got tired of the mindset of making music and not really doing anything with it,” Marcinizyn says. “It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying playing with those guys. I just needed to do something new.”

Following that summer, Zwaanendael recorded their first album and paid for its pressing to white vinyl out of pocket. Soon after finishing the record, Marcinizyn booked a one way ticket to Europe in an effort to get away from some of the anxieties he felt about living in the city.

However, he harnessed the hard times, turning them into song.

“Blood on the Stairs” is about a time Marcinizyn returned to his home on Sigel Street and found the block closed off by police because there had been a shooting.

“Some guy literally spurted blood all over our stairs,” Marcinizyn says.

After a few months abroad, he returned to the U.S., moving to Austin to live with former Trowels guitarist Anthony Sardella.

“We got jobs making skate ramps all over the country,” Marcinizyn says. “Over a couple months, we built a park in San Francisco, a ramp for the U.S. Open of Surfing/Coastal Carnage Festival in Huntington Beach, California and Orion Fest in Atlantic City.”

Marcinizyn, who is a carpenter by trade, credits his passion for building skate ramps for getting him into the business. He helped create some of

20

WRITING THROUGH: Aaron Hindorff, Josh Marcinizyn and Adam Moffitt. the concrete ramps at FDR Skatepark and assisted in writing, interviewing and taking photos for the book, FDR Skatepark: A Visual History (Schiffer), which chronicles the park’s collaborative, DIY construction and history.

“I’ve been skating FDR since 2000,” he says.

“Building ramps there is mostly about picking up where those before us built stuff and giving a part back to the scene.”

Zwaanendael’s first record ties into this passion, paying homage to the extreme sport. The hardhitting, largely instrumental call to arms, “149,” is a reference to the size of the skateboard trucks Marcinizyn and his friends use. The transient “Under a Bridge” is all about hanging at FDR with his friends. In the song, a catchy harmonica melody gives an air of returning home after a long trip, which is something Marcinizyn is quite familiar with.

Mixing for the new Zwaanendael record is in

the works now. The band is expecting to release it this summer. Aaron Hindorff has been filling in on bass (Sardella played bass on the first Zwaanendael record).

The record is still rooted in punk but it leans a bit towards Americana and sounds even a little bit surf-heavy at times.

“This record’s cool because it’s different from the first,” says Moffitt. “There was some dark stuff on the first record but this one shows some growth.

Maybe ‘growth’ isn’t even the right word. But on this one, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s more about finding your way.”

Zwaanendael songs come from many different places. Whether they’re written from good times, bad or from other countries abroad, Marcinizyn’s experiences are there in the tracks.

“You don’t let it get you down,” he says. “You keep going through with it. It’s there to write with.”

- Brian Wilensky facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by Urszula Pruchniewska.

Photo by Abigail Reimold.

Born in The Basement Kickstarting Philly

Joint Chiefs of Math started in a basement. That's where they'll stay.

Kevin Keenan and Marcus Denke of Joint Chiefs of Math sit in Denke’s Northern Liberties space, recalling their first musical efforts together. It was 2006 when the two began collaborating at drummer Denke’s parents’ house in Emmaus, Pa. After a while, Keenan, a guitarist, started living there. It seemed easier since the two spent so much time with one another anyway.

Keenan parked his beat-up van right outside the Denke family residence.

“My dad was so pissed,” Denke remembers.

The guys set up practice space in the basement and began writing songs.

In 2008, Denke moved to Philly to attend Temple University. A year later, Keenan packed his bags and moved to the city as well. Since then, the two have found their niche by showcasing their bastardized brand of noise rock in basements and other DIY venues around the city.

The duo realized pretty early on that they both brought out something special in one another.

“I was writing guitar parts and the way he played drums just meshed really well,” Keenan says.

Keenan is more straightforward and guitar-heavy, which is balanced by Denke’s more technical, layered stuff that he writes on a computer.

“Pretty much all of the songs of his that we play were written in FruityLoops,” Keenan adds, referring to the web-based audio editing program now known as FL Studio. “Then it gets translated into guitars, loops and now synthesizers.”

It’s their enthusiasm for innovation that led to the Chief’s distinct sound.

The group’s impressive collection of gear has become notable within the local music community. They feature custom guitar pedals (like the “momentary mute” switch Keenan designed for quick, silent musical transitions), multiple loop stations and other randomly salvaged pieces of technology.

Keenan’s songwriting usually stems from hearing a sound.

“I immediately think of something that will go great with that sound,” he says. “I think a lot of people, when they use pedals, they write a guitar part and then they put a pedal on top of it, you know? And like, that’s cool and that works sometimes but I think in terms of what I do, I wouldn’t be able to write what I write if I did not have those pedals.”

In July 2012, the band released their debut LP, Wires, through their own label, Associated Sounds, Ltd. They've toured extensively, testing new material that will be featured on the Word Alive 7-inch that’s due out this summer.

The guys confess that traditional venues fail to capture that same raw energy that the group’s more intimate, unconventional performances do.

“Playing on a stage is weird,” Denke explains. “We both agree that the further you are from the crowd, the more awkward it feels. It’s good to be close.”

“When we play at Maggot House or IHOP Estate or in West Philly or somewhere in South Philly,” Keenan adds, “these kids come out. They might be a little drunk but they love it. They get so stoked and we feel that. It’s this crazy exchange that we haven’t felt at a real venue. Our music was born in basements and that’s where it belongs right now because that’s where it works.”

- Edward Newton JUMPphilly.com

Jamie Lokoff and the crew from Milkboy created Feed The Muse, a Philly-based crowdfunding site for musicians and other creative folks On a sunny Friday afternoon, Milkboy co-owner Jamie Lokoff sits in his Center City bar, sipping a coffee. While music blares and people banter around him, Lokoff perches on a stool and leans forward, his eyes intent.

He gets excited when talking about his latest project, Feed The Muse, a crowdsourcing website that helps artists raise funds for projects.

“In the most basic way, it’s for artists to make extra cash,” Lokoff says. “This is not a money-making pursuit for me. This is something that is a good idea.”

The name MilkBoy has long been associated with music in Philadelphia.

What started in 1994 as a recording studio for independent artists has since branched out to include the downtown bar/venue and a coffeehouse/venue in Ardmore. Feed The Muse (feedthemuse.net) was launched by Milkboy in 2009 in response to recession-related changes in the music industry.

“The artist has to view himself as a business,” Lokoff explains. “I have CDs, I have tours, I have merchandise, I have crowdsourcing. It’s another way to engage the audience.”

Feed The Muse has allowed more than 2,500 artists to fund their projects through donations. MilkBoy takes 5 percent cut to cover operating costs.

On Feed The Muse, artists start a campaign for a project, such as wanting to record their next album. The artist creates a project page and sends out a link to their contacts. Funding comes directly from friends, family and fans, as well as anyone else who stumbles across the page. In exchange for various donations, the donors get specialized experiences or products, such as a limited-release version of a song.

Lokoff thinks artists should promote their page and engage with their fanbase in a membership way, like the NPR model.

“If you like NPR, you support NPR,” Lokoff explains.

Manayunk-based musician Matt Spitko is raising money through the site to fund his first album, The Light. He spent a lot of time creating a video, writing copy and updating his online presence before launching a campaign in midApril. Within two weeks, he raised more than $2,700 of his $10,000 goal.

“That’s why I dig it,” Spitko explains. “The more I get into it, the more I’m realizing you get what you put into it.”

The site is similar to other crowdfunding sites such as Kickstarter, which launched in the same month as Feed The Muse. Feed The Muse is different, however, in that artists keep whatever donations come their way, whereas on Kickstarter, artists only get the donated funds if they reach their funding goal.

Also, Feed The Muse is Philly-based and they add a personal touch.

“We’ll hold people’s hand through the process,” says Joanna Leigh Simon, community manager for Feed The Muse. “We’re all available.”

The site can be used by anyone with a viable creative project in mind.

“You see dancers, musicians, muralists, comic book artists and that’s really awesome for us to see,” says Simon. “We wanna see them get their shit done.”

- Urszula Pruchniewska

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Photo by G.W. Miller III.

The Zen of Pat Martino

A medical condition caused guitarist Pat Martino to have headaches and seizures but it also made him rather mystical in his approach to music. Then, it almost killed him. An operation saved his life but it wiped his memory clean. He relearned the guitar. And he learned how to live.

The Instigator Homer Jackson is trying to get the world excited about jazz in Philadelphia.

Homer Jackson worked at WRTI radio when it was an all-jazz station during the 1980s. Everyone working at the station then was young. Most were 25 or younger. “What person under 25 knows anything about jazz?” Jackson ponders.

He didn’t know much and neither did most of those around him, including Rich Nichols, who went on to become the longtime manager of The Roots. But they were a creative bunch that listened to whatever interested them, from bop to avant-garde to world music, and everything in between. That’s what they put on air.

“Each personality had a community they connected to,” Jackson remembers. “There was a quilt that was created.”

It all fell under the massive umbrella of jazz, which is really about the improvisational style of playing rather than a packaged musical genre. They did not remain confined within one definition of jazz.

“Jazz is a synthesis of everything that came before it,” Jackson says. “Jazz is an approach.

Culture isn’t stagnant. Culture evolves.”

His experiences at the station stayed with him all these years, while music became more corporate and interest in jazz declined.

So last year, Jackson, a multidisciplinary artist who has received numerous grants and awards over the years, launched the Philadelphia Jazz Project. The mission is broad and ambitious — galvanize the base of jazz fans, reach new audiences and support the future of jazz by building bridges between different communities.

The organization began programming in February with a filmed community conversation with local music-thought leaders. They’ve held a few listening parties, where people gather to absorb and then discuss music, followed by live performances. Jackson wants the project to be a fertilizer for ideas — jazz and otherwise.

“I’m an instigator, in a way,” he says.

There is a bigger picture, beyond music, however.

Jackson, who grew up near Gratz and York streets in North Philly, just a few blocks away from his current home, wants to world to know about all the talent that exists in Philadelphia.

“It’s all here,” he says. “Why go anywhere else?

Why go to New Orleans? It’s not so hot and our food’s not so salty.”

- G.W. Miller III

Learn more at philajazzproject.org 28 22

Legendary guitarist Pat Martino has always He went on to perform across the country and been on a journey, or so he believes. around the world with some of the biggest names Actually, he’s not really sure and he doesn’t seem in jazz. He eventually started his own bands and to care about days gone by. He knows he’s here made albums that inspired legions of guitarists to now and really, that's all that matters. experiment with their style. No one plucked the You see, in 1980, when Martino was at the strings as quickly and intricately as Martino did, first height of his artistry and career, he had an especially as he veered into his fusion era. operation that eliminated his memory.

He was a master musician at the top of his “I lost everything,” he says. game, eventually becoming an instructor at the He’d had seizures Guitar Institute and headaches all of Technology in his life but doctors Hollywood. had misdiagnosed And then he had him, often saying the operation that his issues were saved his life and psychiatric. stole it at the same Then he had an time. aneurysm that “A guitar?” he nearly killed him. recalls thinking After a CT scan after the operation. in Los Angeles, “I didn’t even want the doctor told to get near it.”

Martino he had He had moved into two hours to live. his parents’ home So he hopped a to rehabilitate but plane back to his also to tend to POSITIVE ID: Pat Martino (opposite page) playing at them as they grew native Philly.

“I didn’t know Chris' Jazz Cafe and looking at an album cover (above). older. why I was coming back except for my mom and “My father played my old records thinking it dad,” recalls Martino, now 68. would jar something in me,” Martino says. “It was His parents took him straight from the airport horrible. I felt like I had nothing to do with those to Pennsylvania Hospital. He immediately records. It wasn’t me.” underwent surgery to relieve his arteriovenous He looked at his old albums next to himself in malformation (AVM), a congenital abnormality the mirror to see if it was really him. that disrupts the flow of blood.

To escape the confusion and anger, he’d hang out When he awoke, he had no idea who he was. at a corner bar in South Philly and watch the horse Starting over was scary and frustrating and it races, thinking he was anonymous. Only years changed his outlook on life. Or maybe it didn’t. later did he realize that everyone at the bar knew He’s not certain. But he did learn about himself. him. They were just giving him space.

He had originally began playing guitar to please Martino began experimenting with the guitar his father, a first generation American who spoke and found it rather therapeutic. the Italian of his Sicilian ancestors. Martino’s He claims it took him 17 years to fully regain his father used to strum the guitar and sing old world skill with the guitar but he was performing about love songs to Martino’s mother. two years after surgery. His first steady gig was Martino started playing when he was a child at The Shire in Cape May in the summer of 1982. and by the time he was 12, he made a television “I performed as Pat Azzara,” he says, referring to appearance with bandmate Bobby Rydell. A few his family name. “I didn’t want to have to live up years later, his father hired Jerry Blavat to be to the expectations of being Pat Martino.”

Martino’s manager. Martino began playing music After the first weekend performances, however, at parties and events around the city but Blavat the word was out. People from up and down the was pushing for that new sound, rock ‘n’ roll.

East Coast flooded the tiny venue to see Martino.

Martino, though, had already stumbled upon He’s back to touring the world again. He’ll be in and fallen in love with the mysteries of jazz.

Europe most of the summer playing jazz festivals.

So when he was 16, he left his South Philly home His music is different now, free of constraints and moved to New York. from old conventions. Because he has no past, “I really moved to jazz, a musical community,” he everything he creates is in the now. He sees music says. “It wasn’t a physical space.” in everything, from the alphabet to license plates.

He was so good, young and skinny, they just It all inspires him. It always has, he thinks. called him “The Kid.” He performed alongside jazz “There can be no greater success than happiness,” and R&B greats like Lloyd Price, Willis Jackson, he says. “But happiness is elusive. And it has an Curtis Fuller and Jimmy Heath. opposite.”

- G.W. Miller III JUMPphilly.com

Photos by G.W. Miller III.

This Place Rocks

A Home For Real Fans

Chris' Jazz Cafe is a full-time jazz club that also offers fine dining, for better or worse.

The casual jazz fan is an endangered specimen.

On a scale of “bored by it” to “obsessed with it,” many folks fall on one end of the spectrum or the other, leaving the inhabitants of the sparsely populated middle to wander, often alone, unsatisfied with the bored crowd and unable to hang with the Real Jazz Fans.

That still-sizable crowd interested in jazz but not really committed to it may be the most important demographic.

Chris’ Jazz Café, a restaurant and venue at 1421 Sansom Street, is in many ways well-positioned to cater to that group.

Opened in 1987, Chris’ regularly features Philly’s biggest jazz artists, like Orrin Evans, Pat Martino, Jimmy Bruno and Bootsie Barnes, as well as national and international acts. There are two acts on most nights, six nights per week.

Several times per week, they also host late-night sets or jam sessions with younger musicians.

These performances can be hit or miss but they are rarely boring. In a city with two top-notch jazz education programs serving hundreds of students, Chris’ has become a testing ground for JUMPphilly.com

new talent. And it has managed to stay open and keep exhibiting jazz while other testing grounds, like Ortlieb’s in Northern Liberties, have closed or drastically changed formats.

At Chris’, the typical patron is greeted immediately upon entry by a host who offers to seat him or her at a table near the stage. On a normal night, the cover charge is $10 for a table or $5 at the bar near the entrance, where it is difficult to see the band. For big name performances, tickets can run up to $30.

The staggered cover charge gives the uncommitted an incentive to pay less upfront and stay at the bar, where it is easier to slip out after a drink or two. If you go all in, you find yourself at a white-cloth table with a server who seems keen on convincing you to order dinner, no matter what time it is.

“Ideal, for our boss, would be people who are here to have a very nice dinner and see a good music act,” says Ron Talton, Chris’ evening manager.

But culinary hunger and musical hunger are not always complementary desires and it’s hard to imagine that a significant portion of people want

to experience both at the same time.

Some musicians seem frustrated by this structure. A handful declined to speak frankly on the record about Chris’ but the consensus seems to be they feel it's unfortunate that people are almost forced to choose fine dining and jazz, as opposed to being able to choose one, the other or both. Despite its flaws, they say, it is one of the only reliable venues in town to book a gig.

“Chris’ has brought a lot of music to the city and has been part of keeping the consciousness of jazz alive here,” says Tom Moon, a saxophonist and former music critic for the Inquirer. “I guess many people in the community, both musicians and people who care about the art form, want to feel like the people who are running the club have some awareness about the art form and how it’s best encountered.”

Talton says that the club’s recent announcement that it would open its doors slightly to non- jazz acts is a way of trying to get different and younger crowds. It’s hard to believe it’s the jazz that’s turning people away.

Even with its flaws, Chris’ is unique in its commitment to still featuring jazz on a nightly basis. It remains the place to go for the truly committed jazz fans.

- Jared Brey

Chris' Jazz Cafe is located at 1421 Sansom Street. Call 215-568-3131 for reservations.

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This Place Rocks

Scene City

The Blockley brings some of the biggest talent in reggae, hip-hop, jam bands and a wide array of other genres into their intimate setting. Named after an old West Philly asylum, The Blockley occupies the site of the old Chestnut Cabaret, a legendary venue from the '80s.

There is literally something for everyone in Philadelphia. If you are into it, you'll find it. Here are a few of our favorite places to hear music.

Text and photos by G.W. Miller III.

You will sweat inside SoundGarden Hall, whether you are dancing or not. Whenever the place is open, it is jam-packed with scantily clad young people drinking, screaming, dancing and, er, making friends. And it gets hot. The club plays host to a world of incredible DJs, from locals like Diplo, Questlove and the Twurkaholics crew to international EDM stars like Tiesto.

If the bars are closing but you still want to dance, Voyeur is the spot.

The members-only club allows visitors and is always packed for Making Time dance parties and other events until 3:20 a.m. It's in the heart of the Gayborhood and drag queens will likely be there.

The North Star Bar is a Fairmount institution. It has played host to massive bands like the White Stripes and they've held record-release shows for locals like Free Energy and Chiddy Bang.

Recently, they started doing free acoustic shows in their upstairs Victorian Dining Room.

World Cafe Live is in the same building as WXPN and the audiences overlap. There is a lot of music from around the world.

Underground Arts feels like a good old basement party — it's dark and simple, and shows can get outrageously fun.

The Theatre of Living Arts, better known as the TLA, was originally a movie theater. For the last two decades, the South Street landmark has been one of the best places to see live music in the city.

Milkboy serves all your needs — it's a bar, coffeshop, restaurant and music venue. And it's open for 19 hours a day. Many nights feature local musicians.

The Electric Factory "reopened" in 1995 in a former General Electric building in a then desolate neighborhood. The venue is now a major destination for huge recording artists and their devoted fans, who turn out in droves.

L'Etage offers live acts, like the Martha Graham Cracker Cabaret, as well as dancing in the cozy second floor lounge.

Time offers live music every day, giving the casual bar hangout a smooth vibe.

Kung Fu Necktie offers the opportunity to get upclose-and-personal with emerging bands that will go on to sellout Johnny Brenda's and later play Union Transfer.

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Open less than two years, Union Transfer is already among the most popular venues in town because of their sound and decor. facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by Jessica Flynn.

This Place Rocks

The DIY Promoter Collective In a short time, The Guild has ammassed a reputation for putting on good shows and making everyone feel at home.

If you’re a regular Guild show attendee, you know that you are going to get way more than music for the small donation asked for by whichever friendly Guild member is waiting at the door. You develop new friends, build community, foster a subculture, cry, drink beers, laugh and probably get involved in a “Simple Pleasures in America” sing-along.

If you are not a regular, it is probable that whichever member asks you for your money will also ask you for your name and remember it.

The collective is made up of six like-minded promoters — Tony Godino, Nick Fanelli, Justin Phillips, Jeff Meyers, Pete Piecynski and Eric Muth. Each have been heavily involved in the music scene since high school, playing in touring bands, touring with bands, managing bands, DJing, etc. They know how to run a good show for the fans as well as for the bands.

Touring bands usually end up with good food (often assorted vegetables with rice and beans stewed up by Phillips), a place to sleep (sleeping bags, couches and floors), sometimes a complimentary 30-pack from Fanelli (who is kind of like the quarterback of The Guild) and even sightseeing.

“I love taking bands around town,” Piecynski says. “Philly boasts so many great hangs for a band on any budget. Depending on the time and how active everyone is feeling, I like to take bands to get vegan or real cheesesteaks on South Street, the 'Always Sunny' coffee shop, Liberty Bell, Love Park, Logan Fountain in the summertime and the Art Museum stairs. They see the city and everything in-between for the price of the steak and parking.”

Since The Guild’s inception last September, they have steadily gained momentum. They put on around eight to 10 shows per month at nearly 15 venues throughout the city, including The Golden Tea House, The Cracker Factory, Teri’s, The Fire, PhilaMOCA and elsewhere. "There's something really inspiring about people letting their ideas become actions,” says Nick Harris of the band Luther. “I've known everyone involved in The Guild independently for years, and have played shows that they have individually

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booked. I really think that all of the people involved are organized and creative enough that The Guild will become a staple of the Philadelphia music scene."

Before coming together, most of The Guild’s members promoted DIY punk and indie shows individually. Godino started booking shows under the Dead Industry banner in 2007 while he was still living in Scranton. His brother, Joe Godino of The Menzingers, heavily inspired him.

“Tony came with us for our first few tours and took over manager duties” Joe Godino says. “I think that allowed him to learn the ways shows are booked and run. I think being a part of that provided the opportunity for him to grow as a promoter.”

Soon after, Tony Godino moved to Philadelphia and he brought Dead Industry with him. It really flourished when he started booking at a DIY warehouse in South Philly called Ava House.

“Eventually Nick Fanelli joined me and it really became something special,” Godino says. “The guy is a machine.”

There were problems with Dead Industry, though. Godino felt like he was getting most of the credit and gratitude, since he was the contact guy to most of the bands. Fanelli ended up being the man behind the curtain. Godino wanted them to get equal credit for their work.

The other guys were also having issues with their projects. With lack of communication, shows were being booked that overlapped.

“I think the actual idea to start The Guild came from a day there was a show Eric booked and Justin booked like eight blocks away the same night,” Fanelli says with a laugh. “That was dumb.”

Fanelli realized that for years, the six of them were mostly booking similar bands and genres. He decided that it was time for them to streamline, put together their contacts with bands, venues and agents, and communicate with one another about what shows are being booked. He emailed everyone with his proposal.

“It was a bit difficult to swallow,” Godino says. “Dead Industry was my precious little goddamn baby and had been for seven years at that point.”

But he has not since regretted the decision.

“Of course, he was right,” states Godino. “I wouldn't like it any other way.”

- Jessica Flynn JUMPphilly.com

Photo by Abigail Reimold.

Building Up, Around People A reverend and a community are rebuilding the West Kensington Ministry at Norris Square and music is a focal point.

Among piles of old audio equipment, children’s books and battered pews stands a man with a plan. Reverend Adan Mairena is the kind of man who looks at a decrepit, crumbling building and sees not what it is or was, but what it will one day become.

His home for the past seven years, the West Kensington Ministry at Norris Square, is a perfect example of this. The building dates back to the Civil War but with the help of some dedicated helpers, the good reverend is looking to bring the Ministry into the 21st century.

The church itself is the main event but add a fully functional recording studio as well as plans for a venue space, screen-printing studio and photography darkroom, Mairena is hatching the ultimate way to keep kids interested - by appealing to their interests.

“I had a kid come up to me one day,” Mairena recalls, “and he was like, ‘Yo Rev., let me spit a verse for you!' It was all about having a lot of bling. I’m like, ‘You were just asking me to help you buy a bus pass!’”

By connecting with young people, he hopes to further instill positivity into the community.

“Who are our heroes today?” he asks rhetorically.

“Are there more T-shirts featuring Martin Luther King Jr. or Jay-Z?” The patronage of Norris Square had been declining for years because the mostly-white congregation fled the neighborhood.

“Most of the people (who stayed) were either too old,” Mairena explains, “or had died.”

And what’s a reverend without a congregation?

Thankfully, this particular one was still a motivated man and even more thankfully, he soon met a man equally as motivated.

The reverend’s luck started its uphill climb a few years ago when he met Miguel Leon, a local audio engineer and DJ, who also runs Illadelph Sound.

A partnership ended up benefiting them both.

“In the crack era back in the '80s, this neighborhood was a war zone,” Leon says, looking down below at the rows of empty pews.

“There were vials on the sidewalk everywhere you walked.”

“See,” Mairena says with a sigh. “Hearing that type of stuff breaks my heart because I’m not JUMPphilly.com

SACRED SPACE: Reverend Adan Mairena in the new studio at West Kensington Ministry at Norris Square (top) and the nave of the church, which dates back to the Civil War. from around here.”

Mairena found in Leon a compatriot who was not only knowledgeable about the musical equipment and practices but also just as willing to help out the churchgoers.

“It was really important to have someone from the neighborhood help out,” Mairena says, motioning to Leon.

“Rev. Mairena had the beginnings of a studio but he didn’t really know what to do with it,” Leon says with a laugh. “He was doing a good job but things needed tweaking.”

The studio is now freshly opened. The first band gracing Leon’s setup is Penumbre, church drummer Joaquin Miranda’s metal band. Norris

Square Park has also been holding a weekly youth open-mic events, which has garnered mostly praise from the neighborhood.

“One woman from the neighborhood came in and saw the flashing lights and said that it looked like a club in here,” Mairena says. “I asked her how she knew what the inside of a club looked like.”

There is still a lot of work to be done in most facets of the church but the reverend is in it for the long haul.

“I see my position as one who builds everything up,” says Mairena. “Too often, congregations build themselves up around pastors instead of the people. I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen."

- Kevin Stairiker

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Photos by Rick Kauffman.

This Place Rocks

Master of Ceremonies John Redden bought an old nightclub and turned it into the ultimate destination for dancers, hipsters, musicians, punks, partiers and anyone else who wants to have fun and express themselves.

Everything that happens in The Barbary is manufactured by meticulous design — the lights, temperature, music volume, even the employees and attendees. All are micro-managed to an extent by one man, John Redden.

He tweaks decks and flips nobs as a hundredplus fill his bar to capacity. He’s bare-chested in a zipper-clad black leather vest, revealing his extensively tattooed torso and arms. A swarm of bats dyed into his skin crawls up his neck. On his jugular notch lies a black anchor with the text “Est. 2007,” marking the date he took ownership of The Barbary on Frankford Avenue. During "Hands and Knees" parties, attendees are stamped with a matching anchor on the back of their right hand.

Girls seductively dance on top of tables, beckoning boys closer. It’s all a show, just a tease.

But like flies to a zapper, boys creep closer and closer. Then, they are shocked to receive a dousing of beer from the once-writhing girls.

Alongside fellow DJs Ian Saint Laurent, Scott Ackerman and Luke Goodman, Redden operates a double dose of mixers, decks and laptops. With the turn of a few dials, a custom-made "Hands and Knees" sign flashes behind them and the fog machine rolls a plume of vapor over the crowd.

He makes it all happen.

Redden started venturing to Philly to catch R5 shows while he was a finance student at Villanova University. He was not from a family of means but his mother worked at Villanova and was able to send her three children there for free. Redden never quite fit in at that college – he was more punk rock than the preppy chic.

Eventually, he found an apartment in Fishtown where he lived with five guys in four bedrooms.

They split the $700 per month in rent.

“The area was super sketchy,” Redden remembers. “But the houses were so cool and huge, and rent was dirt cheap.”

Soon afterward, with just a little money saved up, he decided to buy a house. Slowly, the value of the area started to increase, so he refinanced his home, now dubbed “The Barbary Mansion.” He lives with Saint Laurent and Barbary bartender/

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PARTY STARTERS: Scott Ackerman (top, left) with John Redden, along with party people.

An Albatross singer/resident DJ Eddie Gieda III. Redden was able to work the real estate market, ultimately owning various properties in the area.

He worked a day job for the newly expanding

Vitamin Water company, which looked to him to expand within Philadelphia. He never had any aspirations to be a club owner, though. DJing was his hobby, his passion. He liked throwing parties.

In 2005, Redden and his twin sister, Danielle, started throwing a party called “Socket” at Silk City. Later, he and Saint Laurent started throwing facebook.com/JUMPphilly

JUMPphilly.com

Photo by Jonathan Van Dine.

"Hands and Knees" every Friday at the M Room.

He originally approached the old owners of The Barbary and received an ironic response.

“We don’t want any hipster bullshit in here,” they told him.

Then one day, Redden saw a "for sale” sign on The Barbary building and he set up a meeting.

“I was getting really sick of working regular jobs and shit,” Redden reminisces By financing his various endeavors and finding a partner in purchasing the bricks of the building, Redden became the owner of The Barbary at the age of 27. He installed a top-of-the-line EAW sound system, heavily renovated the entire upstairs and offered the city a gay-friendly, punkloving, dance-heavy hipster hangout.

Using his connections, Redden essentially grabbed up all the best DJs in the city to play his new club. Spank Rock did a weekly Monday party called “Jang House.” Gregg Foreman, Eddie Gieda and his brother Michael did “Turnaround vs.

Immediate.” Making Time’s Dave P. packed the joint many, many times.

Every night was designed differently. To this day, that formula remains the same.

Eddie Gieda hosts an all-vinyl, punk and glam rock party, “Guitar Army.” Fame Lust photographer Mario Manzoni makes everyone wear black and red at his monthly party, “Cruel Intentions.” There’s an all-emo party, “Through Being Cool” (formerly MakeOutClub) and Katie Brazina’s dark-anthem and pop-ballad party, “Leather.” Pizza Brain visionary Brian Dwyer brings free pies for the hip-hop house party, “WYYLDESTYLE.” The weekly Monday night indie dance party, “Tigerbeats” is a Philadelphia favorite. Barbary staffer Chris Doyle regularly throws all-ages shows.

“John has created truly an artists venue,” says Gieda. “You can pretty much come up with an idea and if it makes sense, he’ll run with it.”

The ability for artists to create with total freedom is Redden’s dream. He’s very understanding with his staff, most of whom are musicians who travel for weeks at a time.

“The Barbary is the one true DIY venue,” says Brazina, host of the Thursday night party, “Leather.” “They’ll help you out with specials, bring in DJs and the crowd so you can have your party. Even if you’re playing electronic music, it’s pretty punk rock.”

“I really try to make it as DJ-friendly as possible,” Redden acknowledges. “it’s just my work ethic.

When I’m there, I’ll be fucking around with the lights or telling the bartender this or the doorguy that. I’m trying to constantly make sure everything is right.”

Back amongst the smoke, Redden and Saint Laurent share a cigarette shielded by the screen of vapor while they shift back and forth on DJ duties all night. After years of tried and true practice, DJing is automatic to Redden.

He also just so happens to be the boss at the best dance club in the city.

“I’m pretty whimsical when it comes to things,” says Redden. “And when an idea gets in my head, I just go for it. Sometimes I get burned but sometimes it works out really well.”

- Rick Kauffman

Master of the Macabre

Chloë Wagner collects oddities, plays industrial music and moderates vampire-lovers.

A small jar of thin, white, five-inch raccoon penis bones sits at the Requiem counter in front of Chloë Wagner.

“I just restocked those yesterday,” the 31-yearold from South Philly says quite nonchalantly.

Restocking raccoon penis bones, jarring squids and speaking affectionately of human skeletons are just part of another workday for the oddity store owner, who also plays keyboard in the industrial band MyParasites.

For Wagner, unconventional knick-knack collecting has been a lasting hobby.

“I’ve been collecting this kind of stuff my whole life,” Wagner says. “The past few years, I’ve been buying and selling online. I kind of got busy doing that, so I figured I would open my own store.”

Wagner opened Requiem on 9th Street near South last summer with her fiancé, Steve “Jaws” Jaworski. She had moved to Philly from New York in 2011 after studying photography and jewelry design in college. Some of her original jewelry is displayed in the store, featuring macabre elements like teeth, bones and insect parts.

“A lot of times,” Wagner says, “there are bits left over from things sold at the store and I don’t know what to do with them, so I make them into something wearable.”

As for her favorite item in the shop currently, she introduces "Bob," the human skeleton perched in the corner, seemingly the shop’s watchman.

“He’s sold but he’s sticking around for a little bit,” Wagner offers. “He’s definitely a favorite.”

Wagner hand-picks what items are displayed based upon her tastes and interests, so it can be hard to see some things sell.

“There was a charcoal drawing from the 1800s,” Wagner recalls. “It was this little girl and she kind of looked like Wednesday Adams. She had the most angry look and her eyes just followed you

everywhere you go. It was the creepiest portrait I’ve ever seen. I kind of wish I kept it.”

Prior to owning Requiem and playing in MyParasites, Wagner’s resume was a hodgepodge of more odd jobs than oddities, including a stint as a pool-cleaning technician, which helped her deal with the less glamorous side of running Requiem.

“I had to develop an iron stomach to deal with some of the stuff,” she says. “When you clean so many pools, you find all kinds of things. I had one where I was pulling families of baby skunks out of the filters. People ask, ‘How do you deal with putting the stuff in jars?’ That’s nothing.”

She has a varied musical background, from a four-year stint in high school as the bassist/ singer in a punk band to three years of classical vocal training and five years of flute (which she jokes was in another lifetime).

She joined MyParasites in 2011. They toured North America and Canada to promote the group’s November 2012 album, ParaLies.

MyParasites shared an 11-passenger van with fellow dark electro-rock groups Angel Spit and Cyanotic, all of which were part of the Wall Street Massacre tour.

“It was fun and exciting,” she says, “and awful all at once.”

Wagner also works as a customer service agent for the website Vampire Freaks, a gothicindustrial networking site. Her duties include answering user questions, moderating disputes and deleting fraudulent profiles. She essentially keeps vampire enthusiasts in check.

Wagner balances her music and jobs so that none of her interests fall by the wayside.

“It is a juggle,” she says, “but I think they are equal passions.”

- Jenelle Janci

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Music & Politics Photo by G.W. Miller III.

All-City Venue Susan Slawson was a police officer for 20 years before mayor Michael Nutter tapped her to become commissioner of the city's Recreation Department in 2008. Now, she oversees all city rec centers and she runs the city-owned Dell Music Center in Fairmount Park. G.W. Miller III spoke with her about the Dell's recent renovations and the purpose of the historic, 83-year-old venue.

What do you have planned at the Dell this year?

Another wonderful, exciting summer filled with some of the best music and artists in the country, local and national.

Who do you have lined up?

Our goal is to open with Chaka Khan. She’s celebrating 40 years in music. Ledisi is going to be opening for her. We have Jeffrey Osborne and Stephanie Mills. WDAS will be celebrating 40 years of Tony Brown on the radio and that show will be with the Whispers, Chi-Lites, Stylistics and Breakwater.

Do you work with promoters to bring acts?

Believe it or not, we’re doing it ourselves.

The city runs a music venue?

We are a venue and the venue is managed by me. I have a wonderful staff. Everything that is involved in running a venue is done right here by City of Philadelphia employees. We’re leading the charge from booking artists to transportation to lights, sound, stage production.

What’s the mission of the Dell?

Was music transformational for you?

just having a good old time.

You’ve come a long way from being a cop.

When this reopened (after renovations) in 2010, I knew absolutely nothing about running a venue.

How did you learn?

I learned as I went. You know why? Because I believed that we could give great customer service. We could make people feel special coming to this venue.

It was. We had a TV but I woke up every day to the radio blasting. I kid you not. My father played music all the time. You walk up the steps and you hear it blasting from outside. I grew up listening to Gil Scott-Heron, Herbie Hancock, Marvin Gaye, Butterball on the radio. Now, I listen to oldies and it takes me back to my youth.

Do you give opportunities to local artists?

What do you remember about the Dell as a child?

How much of your time is devoted to running the Dell?

Gospel. I remember going and listening to gospel.

I remember standing in the aisles, clapping and

Absolutely. That’s one of our goals. Carol Riddick is local. We’ve had her here and we’re hoping to have her back. Breakwater is local. We’ve honored Gamble & Huff. That show featured all The Sound of Philadelphia players.

All year. It never stops.

(267) 650-1538

@DJKidRoc1

To offer wonderful summer activities for not just Philadelphia, but for the tri-state region, at affordable prices right in Fairmount Park, at a 5,000-seat, open-air amphitheater venue where you can come and bring your family and just

enjoy summer nights. We say it’s where the stars take center stage – you’re under the stars and you’re sitting there watching a bunch of stars.

Music is transformational. It takes on a whole life of its own. We’re really able to become a part of people’s memories. We’ve met people who came to the Dell 30 years ago and they still come back every year. They’ll talk about their experiences with their moms and grandmoms, and now they return with their kids and grandkids. We want those memories to go on and on.

JUMPphilly.com

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facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by G.W. Miller III.

Music & Education

Planting Roots in the Community The Roots' frontman Tariq "Black Thought" Trotter and sociologist Janice Johnson Dias teamed up to create The GrassROOTS Community Foundation, an organization devoted to raising healthy young women, who will grow up to raise healthy communities.

The guests of St. Mark’s Church on Frankford Avenue are having a spiritual experience.

Throughout the halls, up the stairs and in a large room, “Move Your Body,” Beyonce’s exercise remix to “Get Me Bodied,” blasts. Young girls perform choreographed steps across the stage as cups of fruit and yogurt are handed out on the sidelines. Teachers and facilitators, dressed in suits and ties get down and dirty doing push-ups as parents are out of breath from jumping jacks, catching an entirely different spirit.

This is a free health forum led by The GrassROOTs Community Foundation, the collaborative product of sociologist Dr. Janice Johnson Dias and The Roots' frontman, Tariq “Black Thought” Trotter.

Together they created a foundation that specifically targets young women, encouraging holistically healthy lifestyles. The forum features poet Ursula Rucker, a series of panels hosted by health professionals, mentors and the young girls participating in the program.

“The first lady was launching her initiative, Let’s Move!, and I thought it was a brilliant initiative,” says Johnson, “but I thought there were a few things missing that I could lend my own efforts to.

It hadn’t really been specifically targeted around poverty, which is the mother of all diseases, and had not engaged the hip-hop community, who I think is dramatically effective because of the intersection of poverty and hip-hop.”

Johnson bridges the two worlds of hip-hop and health with events such as the Let’s Move It Philly! benefit concert. The foundation also aims to collaborate with community-based organizations, such as the Creative Healthy Informed Confident Knowledgeable Selves (C.H.I.C.K.S.) after-school health program.

As an advocate for finding the root of the health issues plaguing impoverished communities, JUMPphilly.com

Johnson reached out to the one person she knew who could lend his celebrity and passion to the cause when she decided to create the project.

Tariq Trotter, then a young man who was just an up-and-coming artist, happened to live in her apartment building when she was a student at Temple University.

“I would always hear someone speaking in patois,” says Trotter. “I finally decided to come upstairs and complain.”

Johnson laughs and reminisces over their neighborly banter. Johnson initially asked him to perform at their inaugural fundraising event. He performed alongside Rich Medina at The Blockley, but Trotter was down for further involvement. He now serves as chairman of the board.

“The Roots, we support a wide range of charities and their events,” says Trotter. “But in all the years that we’ve been rocking out, there hasn’t been anything that’s been the charity The Roots gets behind. Seeing people misappropriate funds and never seeing where it trickles down to, I wanted to be involved in something I could actually be about, as opposed to talking a good talk.”

Both Johnson and Trotter have daughters and they have encountered the predicament of raising young women of color with healthy habits when the statistics are against them.

“The health challenges that plague our community, such as obesity and hypertension, reside in these individuals, especially during their formative years,” says Johnson. “Among all groups, black girls are the only people who are shrinking. We are slated to die faster yet we are the people left in our communities to raise it.”

At the panel, the girls admit to initially hating yoga and that they still eat candy but are now aware of what bad eating habits can do to their body. Moderation is key. The number of girls participating in the foundation gets larger every

year but as they triple in group size they also need to triple in funding. Johnson is looking for institutional help and support from the city of Philadelphia.

“We have to be comfortable no matter how uncomfortable the topic when it comes to health and sex-health,” says Mayor Michael Nutter.

“These are not easy conversations but these aren’t easy times. We need to make sure they ( young women) are comfortable being smart. We need to celebrate them.”

The topics covered by GrassROOTs go beyond eating your vegetables. They educate young women on the all facets of their health. There was a session dedicated to explaining the difference between love, sex and infatuation.

“When they grow up, they give the largest percentage of their proceeds back to communities and families,” says Johnson. “We have the chance to change or shift the life course of a generation.

There’s no greater group than young women and girls.”

Throughout the panel, Trotter watches the girls talk with a broad grin on his face. The girls exhibit a new air of confidence and self-awareness. It’s something that can’t be taught.

“When they spoke at the health forum a year ago, they were a lot more apprehensive,” says Trotter. “You have to build up a certain level of trust. They’ve grown and become more mature.

Watching them on the panel made me super proud.”

Now into their third year, GrassROOTs continues to plant the seeds of healthy habits, laying the foundation for a community to take root.

- Sofiya Ballin

Learn more about The GrassROOTS Community Foundation at www.grass-rootsfoundation.org 35

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facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Cover Story

Words by Chris Malo. Photos by Michael Bucher.

M

agicians make things disappear, then reappear. Working in the opposite fashion is Atlanta native and longtime Philadelphia MC, Sugar Tongue Slim. Slim makes spliff after spliff appear, then disappear. Every magician has a good assistant and Slim's is producer and DJ, Bear One. Bear pulls the same trick but with beer after beer.

Working in reverse is something that is not completely unfamiliar to the MC. While most rappers see music as the end to the means, Slim views rapping as the means to an end. He identifies as a writer even with his roots in poetry and notoriety from rap. The goal isn't platinum plaques, celebrity or even buckets of money. Well, maybe the money but only insofar as that it will provide the financial freedom to pursue what he holds closest to his heart - writing.

“I can write," says Slim, exhaling equal parts of carbon dioxide and cannabis smoke. "That’s just what I do. Rapping ain’t nothing but just staying on the beat. At the end of the day you can take that away and I can write. A lot of the stuff I write, I write without the beat."

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S

lim sits on a loveseat in Bear's studio dressed in jeans, a Dub Ceaser T-shirt with an Eagles' logo, an Eagles hat. Within his tattooed arms' reach are his iPhone, Macbook, rolling papers, an ashtray and weed grinder. The cadence of his speech is slow, owing to the facts that he is from the South, he is high and he thinks about what he is going to say before he says it.

"The thing about writing with me is it is the one thing that nobody can ever take," Slim says with conviction. "It’s my belief in writing that makes me good. It’s the belief that I am meant to be one of the greatest writers. I believe that shit. If I didn’t believe it, then I’d stop doing it and chase a check. My belief is that there is a reason why I feel this way and why people tell me this."

The 'people' he refers to are a who's who in the upper echelons of rap.

There were meetings with L.A. Reid and Jay-Z, which lead to a brief stint on Def Jam, and talks with Paul Rosenberg of Shady Records about a deal there. He got a co-sign from KRS-One and he recorded music with Nas. Mark Pitts (who co-founded Bad Boy Records and managed Biggie

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"He's going the direction of AZ mixed with a little OutKast," says Pitts. "I like that direction, what he's trying to do."

Despite the list of co-signs and collaborators, when listening to Sugar Tongue Slim's catalog there are surprisingly a small number of guest apearances or features. This is not accidental.

"I think it fucked up the game," Slim says, addressing rappers who put on talentless associates. "Now everybody thinks they can be a rapper."

He continues, "You wasted a feature. You wasted my time by making me sit hear and listen to this shit. You wasted the budget by putting an album out behind this muthafucker. It’s a waste because it devalues the art. It oversaturates the market and it gives others the idea that ‘Yo, I’m going to put my homies on.’ "

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Smalls) has been a longtime fan and supporter. Kanye West asked him for poetry advice. Slim is managed by Riggs Morales, who signed 50 Cent. And he became part of Black Thought's collective, the Money Making Jam Boys.

It is his association with The Roots that has been the most significant stamp of approval from Slim's adopted city.

"Yo, I run with the Roots, Money Making Jam Boys," Slim states with pride. "Them muthfuckas rap. They jack beats and they do hip-hop shit."

"He's an MC first and foremost," says Pitts, CEO of Bystorm Entertainment and President of Urban Music for RCA. "I think he just has stayed true to that. He's a true MC to me. I'm really big on lyrics, especially based on my history working with Big, Nas, Shyne. He's a lyricist but can make records. It could be time for him. A lot of stuff is about timing."

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lim appeared on The Roots' How I Got Over album on the track "Right On" with Black Thought. It's not just anyone who gets to put down with The Roots. The two first crossed paths at the longgone and sorely missed Black Lily showcase at the defunct Five Spot. A then-fresh to the city Sugar Tongue Slim sold a lighter to Black Thought, who was a regular at the weekly series. Later, when Black Thought pulled up to Uptown Flavor record store at 11th and Market, Slim, who was a regular at Uptown ever since he got off a Greyhound for the first time in 2001 and never left, put his music in The Roots' frontman's hand. Not that Black Thought listened to it.

It wasn't until Slim's manager put it in the hand of Rich Nichols, manager of The Roots. Nichols put it in Black Thought's ear and things went into motion. After Black Thought finally listened to Slim's music, he called Truck North to get Slim in the studio. That night they cut "Ill Street Blues," featuring Truck North, Dice Raw and Sugar Tongue Slim following Black Thought. No easy task. The song then made it to the MMJB's The Prestige mixtape, as well as Slim's Demand More 2.

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he frustration comes from having to pay dues the old-fashioned way. The road from Atlanta to Philadelphia has been long and far from straight.

"I’m from the South man,” Slim says without missing a beat. "Bible belt. I grew up in the church. My granddaddy, god rest his soul, was a preacher. My uncle? Preacher. My momma goes to church three times a week. I don't go to church like I should. I pray to my lord and saviour.

I’m scared to go to hell. I believe in heaven. I need God. We all need something to believe in."

While his grandfather was a preacher, his grandmother ran a barbecue and rib shack in Atlanta that can be prominently seen in Ludacris' "Southern Hospitality" video. The young Slim played soccer and when he wanted to buy a soccer jersey, his older brother told him, fortuitously, if he read Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, he would buy Slim the jersey. From there, Slim read Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God and The Autobiography of Malcolm X, which had a deep impact on Slim during his youth. Not that a strong homelife kept him on the straight and narrow.

"There are two things that I found out I’m good at," recounts Slim.

"One is writing and the other is selling bitches."

It is from this background that Sugar Tongue Slim acquired his moniker. Drawing on what he hears and sees around him, as he so often does, when 15 pimps got pinched in one day in Atlanta, Slim put it in a poem titled "Sugar Tongue Slim." The name pre-dates his own panache for flesh peddling but over time, his life ended up imitating his own art.

Eventually he tranistioned to the written and spoken word, and those days are left behind.

"Lord knows I don’t want to go back to selling bitches," he says.

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hese days, it is a simpler life.

"I’m a nerd, man," says Slim about his life and interests these days. "People say I’m cool. I’m really not that cool. I play with words all day. I’d rather spend my time playing with words. If you spend a day with me, most of the time I’m not paying attention to nobody else except what is going on in my head. I’m trying to piece together the perfect shit."

Piecing together the perfect shit is a process for Slim, jotting down

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in his phone anything that inspires him. When he rides the subway, he never listens to music so he can hear bits and pieces from conversations around him. Other seemingly odd sources have given him material for his music.

"One of the best lines I ever said was, 'Tough as woodpecker lips/ got a handle on the game like a rubber grip.' That's from watching one of the moonshiner shows. The hillbilly country motherfuckers? They have the best lines ever. Of all time," Slim says with a laugh. "If you can’t understand what they say, its awesome. It makes it better for me because I understand every word. They are speaking my language. I’m southern.

I have seen a woodpecker. I never would of thought to say that. Everyone knows a woodpecker's beak is tough. But it's a beak. Nobody would say lips. It translates better for me as a rapper to say it."

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oments like these often get filed in Slim's iPhone before making it into one of the notebooks that he writes in daily.

Taking one out, he explains how his seventh grade teacher taught him to write on every other line so he could add or edit anything he had written. It is something he continues to this day.

Flipping through the pages of neat penmanship, he randomly opens to a page. Following the words with his finger, he quickly finds the rhythm of the rhyme. Oddly enough the bars don't always go from page to page. Sometimes when he gets to the end of a page, he flips the page backwards to continue the same rap, while other times skipping forward a page or two. There is almost a photographic memory as he gets lost in the words regarding where the next lines are located. Without a beat, it could be poetry or it could be rap.

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lim's poetry days began during his years living in Atlanta but he didn't start rapping until he moved to Philly. Much of it was due to the insistence and encouragement of Valentino Huget, better known as Tino. Like many other relationships, this one between JUMPphilly.com

Slim and Tino was born at 11th and Market streets. It developed in a garage in New Jersey where they built a recording booth, spending many sweltering days in the booth. Slim would pick different rappers and learn to emulate their style, something that can be picked up on by closely listening to his mixtapes.

When listening to Slim's flow on stage or on a track, you can hear him rap quickly but also be clearly understood. He has a distinct downsouth twang but it is intelligible. And intelligent. It's something that comes from his voracious appetite for knowedge and inspiration.

Many of his lines can be understood but dissecting them truly reveals their meaning.

"I put so much thought into it," Slim explains. "There is a lot of shit people don’t even recognize when I say it. And it’s OK. Because every now and then somebody does."

"He always stood out to me," says Pitts. "His style, his swag. I always thought he was dope. He has a sharp tongue and crazy personality. I get his personality from his lyrics, how he talks. I always appreciate it."

A true student to the game, Slim often answers questions by instantaneously recalling lines from songs, either his own or others.

He has incredible breath control, a trait often overlooked and underappreciated, a skill he gives Tino credit for. In those early days, Tino never let Slim punch-in while recording. It was always from the top. That perserverance paid off. Not that it was all work and no play for the two.

"We did all type of drugs," Slim says with a smile as he cocks his head back. "Anything that you can think of except the heroin and the crack rock. We had some great times."

Eventually, Tino went a little too hard and never woke up.

"He was gone," Slim says soberly with a hint of melcholoy. "That was my best friend."

He takes another drag from the joint.

"T, man," Slim says. "That’s my inspiration."

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Words by Shaun Frazier. Photos by Marie Alyse Rodriguez.

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Cover Story

S

harif Lacey is part MC, part stay-at-home dad and part sociologist. Making music under the moniker Reef the Lost Cauze for more than a decade, he has long since solidified himself on a deep roster of Philly rap veterans and carved out a worldwide following.

He has compiled an extensive catalog of mixtapes, EPs and full-length albums, collaborated with some of his own hip-hop heroes and covered many miles bringing his art to appreciative fans around the globe.

Along the way he has gained a profound perspective about his business and his connection to the city that raised him.

Reef’s local roots run deep. He is a third-generation Philadelphian whose grandparents have resided in the same West Philly home for more than 60 years. He credits his grandfather, Frank Lacey, for instilling in him his blue-collar work ethic and drive to take care of his family.

“He is the O.G.,” Reef says. “I’ve seen this man go to work in fuckin’ eight feet of snow.”

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hough he had a solid foundation to build from, Reef’s road to success had its share of potholes. Formative years were spent in the Overbrook Park neighborhood of West Philly. While his own surroundings had their share of problems, it was in North and South Philly where he saw the effects of drugs and violence and witnessed communities beginning to deteriorate around him.

“Growing up in the '90s in Philly was an education, to say the least,” he says. “And I fell right into it. Fighting and shooting shit up. I fell right into it for no reason other than that’s what everyone was doing. I was fucking my life up.”

After getting his act together toward the end of high school with strong encouragement from his mother, Reef attended the University of the Arts to pursue a career in film. His foray into college didn’t last long.

He dropped out to make hip-hop a full-time job.

Without much direction at first, he struggled to get his feet moving as a burgeoning rapper. That’s when his mother hit him with an admonishment that he took to heart, then later turned around to make it the inspiration that has since fueled his artistic output.

“She said to me, ‘You’ve become a lost cause,’” explains Reef. “And for some reason that shit sounded so ill to me, like I was almost embracing it. It was like a defiance kind of thing.”

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e has been Reef the Lost Cauze since 2001, and it is exactly that sort of defiance that has defined his music throughout his career. Over the years, as he has steadfastly stuck to a stylistic approach that derives from his favorite emcees – guys like Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane and local legends Black Thought and Beanie Sigel, he’s declined to bend over for the sake of attaining commercial appeal.

Meanwhile the nom de plume has adopted new meanings as the man it is attached to has grown and gained worldly experience. More recently, it has come to symbolize Reef’s dedication to a relatively young art form that already seems outdated.

“The main theme is that hip-hop, MCing, this art form that people used to love and respect, and the idea that the music and the soul is the most important aspect of it – that’s gone,” he says. “So anyone who makes real hip-hop their calling card is a lost cause because they’re basically championing something that is dead. It’s done and you can’t bring that back. It’s a defiance thing. I’m a lost cause because I make music that’s ancient to a lot of people. It’s dated.”

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eef’s rhymes trend more toward social essays than party anthems. They provide insight into what it's like coming of age in an urban dystopia that has been changing all around him, almost as rapidly as the medium which he himself employs.

On “Ghost Town,” a track from his 2012 mixtape Reef the Lost Cauze is Dead, Reef raps, “Culture vultures/No home for broke kids/They stole North Philly/Renamed it NoLibs.”

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It is a direct shot at the tidal wave of gentrification that has washed over one part of the city during the last decade. And while many see it as a form of progress and regeneration, Reef sees a missed opportunity to bring people from different parts of society together.

“We try to paint this picture where yuppies intermingle with the urban youth and that’s just not the case,” he explains. “It creates this friction and this drama and this unwelcoming feeling. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with people moving into a neighborhood that isn’t really functioning and building but my whole thing is interact with the people.

Don’t move into a neighborhood, take it over basically and then be rude to the people who lived there before.”

"I don't think there's anything wrong with people moving into a neighbhorhood that isn't really functioning and building but my whole thing is interact with the people."

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s Reef expounds on his theories, one can’t help but wonder if maybe the Lost Cauze persona could also be interpreted as a reflection of the social apathy that pervades in his hometown.

“A lot of people would like to offer bullshit solutions,” he says. “But as long as people can’t afford to live where they’ve lived their whole lives and have to move away, there’s going to be that resentment. People get lost in the politics of it all instead of just learning that you might have a really cool neighbor. This dude that might look like a scary thug might be the most educated dude on the block. This chick that might look like a hipster white girl, she might be able to sit down with you and talk about Kool G Rap for two hours. But we don’t know because we don’t intermingle with each other.”

In many ways, his music is a bridge for that social gap. It has the power to bring people together while also shedding light on the reasons people remain detached from one another.

Longtime friend and collaborator DJ/producer EMYND points out that on top of the focus and dedication to mastering his skills, it is Reef’s emotional personality that really puts him in an elite class.

“He’s one of the most passionate and real dudes I know,” he says.

“He just cares so much about his friends and his family and I think that makes him a better rapper. He can easily rap about some real and honest shit because that’s just the type of person he is and he brings that passion into everything he does.”

With his emotions on his sleeve, Reef keeps his music and his career moving.

He recently released the Sirens on Snyder EP with Philly hip-hop conglomerate Dumhi. He's dropping a new EP entitled The Fast Way, produced by EMYND. And he does a podcast with producer and DJ Caliph-NOW. Though Reef admits there have been times that he has felt ready to call it quits, he is proud to be an ambassador of hip-hop culture and he's humbled by the doors it has opened up for him.

“In every business and every art form, there are going to be ups and downs but you have to vibe with it if that’s your passion,” Reef explains.

“Music has always been my passion and the city of Philadelphia has always been my passion.”

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Words by Nikki Volpicelli.

Photos by Kate Harrold

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t’s a cold Monday night in April and Paul Vile is standing in his camper, crowded with piles of T-shirts, coolers, boxes of Jell-O molds and a huge bubble gum machine filled with colorful balls. There is a generator providing the vehicle with electricity and with it on, it is hard to hear much else. This includes his big brother Kurt’s new record, Wakin on a Pretty Daze, which plays from the small boombox resting on the unlit kitchenette stove.

Tonight, Paul is parked in an employee’s spot outside of a bar in Philly’s Eraserhood but he changes location on a day-to-day basis.

The 28-year-old is one of five brothers raised within a 10-child household. He has since moved out of his parent’s place and bought himself this mobile home, which doubles as his office and living quarters. Paul doesn’t really need a stationary home base for what he does, which is to drive around to different music festivals throughout the country selling Jell-O shots and DIY screen-printed T-shirts.

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aul explains, "I started going to music festivals before Kurt started getting bigger and stuff. All of the sudden, he was playing at the festivals I was going to,” He says the Jell-O shot thing just sort of happened after he saw a girl selling them at a festival for $1 a piece and thought it was a good business idea. So he introduced himself and started asking questions.

“She was doing a really good job,” remembers Paul. “So I said ‘How many do you think you’ve sold?’ She said she thought 200 and I was like, ‘Wow.’ I thought that was a lot.”

Little did he know where that short Q&A would lead him. He soon tried his hand at gelatin slinging during a local Dave Matthews Band concert.

“I was unloading them so quickly it was like I couldn’t make enough,” Paul says. “So then I was making upwards of 500 shots for every small show and then I stopped going to those small shows. I said, ‘Fuck this, I’m gonna try to do it big one time.’” facebook.com/JUMPphilly

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That’s when he decided to go outside of the local circuit, bringing 2,000 shots, 300 T-shirts and a bunch of cheap sunglasses along with him.

“I made retarded money all at once and I pretty much figured out that’s what I want to do,” he says. “Sell a shit ton of stuff for these festivals and that’s that.”

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hat was more than four years ago. Today, Paul plays a big role in the festival circuit, catering to hazed-out field partiers in need of gelatinous booze or a shirt for their back. He has employees, including Margaret McLaughlin, a 23-year-old West Chester native who Paul describes as his "main Jell-O girl."

“I met Paul a couple years ago at the Philly Folk Festival," McLaughlin says. “We woke up at 6 a.m. and went fishing together.

At the time, he was kind of selling and since then, it's gotten out of control(She adds, "He didn't call me one of his Jell-O girls, did he?”)

McLaughlin also assists in production.

“We get big buckets and boil pots of water," she says. “We do large scale Jell-O production. I've been kind of his administrative assistant and I kind of get his butt in gear and help him with different business matters. He doesn't even sleep during festivals. He just sells. He doesn't stop."

She knows why Paul's business has become so popular.

"He's such a character,” says McLaughlin, “and has such a look to him that people just know him and expect him to be there."

He’s even been granted a nickname.

“People just started calling me ‘Jell-O Man,’" Paul concedes. “The name ‘Jell-O Man’ is so stupid. It makes me sound like a fucking superhero. But it comes to your brain easily."

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ow he makes T-shirts that display his moniker, one of which is a black-and-white screen print of himself hurling Jell-O shots into the air like throwing stars and wearing what looks like a Rambo costume.

Splitting his time between all of his entrepreneurial efforts, Paul is also learning to master the piano so that he can play more with his

brother and his brother’s band, The Violators, while they’re on tour.

Paul had the opportunity to play keys on a few of Kurt’s songs at recent shows. He also helped out during The War On Drugs' New Year’s Eve show at Johnny Brenda's by playing harmonica and making a gigantic Jell-O mosaic spelling out the group's name. Around midnight, Paul and War on Drugs' frontman Adam Granduciel (who initially started the group with Kurt Vile) brought the creation onstage to tear off cups and throw them into the crowd.

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espite his success, at times Paul seems jaded with the whole festival circuit thing. Then again, he’s also one of the few who can say he’s made this kind of a living from it. A lot of artists can get burned out being on tour and playing shows every night. While Paul can occasionally be found on stage, that’s not the source of his exhaustion.

“It’s a fucked-up crunch because the momentum is going for me with

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HOME ON WHEELS: Paul in his Jell-O shot factory, a.k.a. his mobile kitchen. The makeshift screenprint studio next to his bed (below).

this Jell-O shots thing,” he admits. “But in terms of the big picture, it’s not like I’m in love with it.”

Aye, there's the rub.

“It’s really fun and cool but at the same time, I’ve got Kurt over here asking me to practice really hard and learn more piano and practice more with them,” Paul explains about his dilemma. “I might blossom over there more.”

He has a hard time deciding which endeavor to fully invest in. While he built his own Jell-O empire completely on his own, working within his brother’s nationally touring kingdom wouldn’t be too bad, either.

“Every day I think, ‘Okay, am I going to put time into practicing keyboard or am I going to put time into making 300 shirts per festival and running around making Jell-O shots?’” Paul says. “It takes so much time, it’s not even funny.”

Tiny plastic Solo cups of red, green and yellow gelatin. That’s the Jell-O man’s kryptonite.

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Food That Rocks

Nine Places to Get Good* Drunk Food Thad Suzenski, operator of PhillyPhoodie.com and a prolific drunk food eater, tells us where to find a bite to eat once the bars shut down.

Photos by Gabrielle Lavin.

The biggest after-party in Center City takes place every weekend at Little Pete’s.

The small, wood-panelled restaurant that is open 24 hours per day is punctuated by the large U-shaped counter that’s the spot of choice for most patrons. In fact, if you come alone, don’t even try to grab one of the booths. You will be reprimanded and guided to the counter, where (depending on the night) you might get in a fight or get laid.

Or both.

The waitstaff at Little Pete’s (much like the rest of the diners featured here) are not to be messed with.

Little Pete’s They’ve seen it 219 S. 17th Street all, heard it all and lived it all, (215) 545-5508 so you best quit your sass before you end up with an empty stomach and bruised ego.

Although they do a good rendition of traditional greasy spoon breakfast fare, the real highlight here is the dinner menu.

The sandwiches at Little Pete’s are the perfect sponge to absorb whatever swill you didn’t sweat out on the dance floor, and there are some local favorites in particular that should be paid special attention.

The burgers are a staple — small, griddled patties with just the right amount of sear, served with standard toppings and fries. It's a steal for around $5.

The Reubens are another thing of beauty. Drunk fare at its finest, there’s nothing better than salty meat and fatty Russian dressing on rye after drinking all night.

Pete’s also offers a decent selection of vegetarian-friendly options, so even your most annoying lettuce-eating friends will find something to eat (or just trick them into eating a bacon cheeseburger when drunk and hold it over their heads forever).

One of the few places on the Northern Liberties/Fishtown/Old Kensington island to get a real meal 24 hours per day, seven days per week, this place is a true mess after the bars close.

After a night of dancing your ass off at The Barbary or 700 Club, the heavy portions and famous cheesecake will maintain your Sir Mix-A-Lot (baby got) back.

The diner started as a cheesecake shop in Rittenhouse before opening a second shop near Fairmont. Finally, they launched the flagship, full-menu spot at the top of the Piazza at Schmidt's. Its proximity to bars, venues, clubs and strip joints makes it a late-night target of choice for those Darling's Diner who don’t want to 1033 N. 2nd Street go home and can’t (267) 239-5775 stay at the bar.

When ordering, go for a sandwich.

The only thing Darling’s is actually recognized for is its cheesecake. While the dessert is good, I can’t really recommend it due to its inconsistency in quality and price tag.

In fact, I can’t really recommend a single menu item. But the thing is, this is a drunk-food roundup. You are drunk. You are hungry. The person you were dancing with all night wants to continue the night and where else is there to go nearby for late-late-night food?

McDonalds? You have to use the drive thru after 11 p.m. (and they don’t allow bicycles, I know from personal experience). Dapper Dog? Depends on the weather with its outdoor seating. 7-Eleven? C’mon, you must be drunk to not immediately rule this out. So, then there’s Darling’s. Sometimes, it just takes a pile of grease and a cup of coffee to make everything right in the world.

* FYI ... good drunk food does not necessarily mean it's good food.

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The venerable Melrose Diner is a landmark South Philly meeting place at the corner of Old School Boulevard and Hipster Way (or Snyder and Passyunk avenues) and it's open 24 hours per day.

By day, it’s a traditional diner filled with longtime patrons and families from the local Newbold neighborhood who gather for no-frills, traditional American food in a classic, movie-type diner setting.

At night, that’s when the freaks come out.

Almost anyone who has spent any time in South Philly drunk on a few too many shots of Heaven Melrose Diner 1501 Snyder Avenue Hill and Pabst pounders has probably made the trek to the Melrose.

(215) 467-6644 If you include the gutter punk patrons from the nearby venue JR’s and those who crawl over from the Republican nudey bar/after-hours club/ whatever it is, there’s a seedy element not found elsewhere in this fine city.

What the Melrose lacks in decor, culinary creativity and, well, quality, it more than makes up for with its long history of feeding drunks calorie-centric breakfast foods at ungodly hours.

The omelets and breakfast platters are always greasy, buttery, slamdunks served with toast and homefries to soak up all the night’s (other) overindulgences. The ultimate champion of the drunk food game at the Melrose, however, is the S.O.S. (a.k.a. shit on a shingle, or creamed chipped beef).

Waitresses who look like they might toss you out by your ear if you get too carried away pour the coffee readily and refer to everyone as “hon.”

Take the edge off of tomorrow morning’s crippling hangover by doubling the post-party shame with a belly full of wonderful, greasy food.

Philip’s Steaks An alternative to the big two (or four) cheesesteak spots, Phillip’s is always open and always delicious. Go for the cheesesteak and see if it doesn’t help sober you up.

2234 W. Passyunk Avenue (215) 755.4820 JUMPphilly.com

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Photos by Gabrielle Lavin.

Food That Rocks

DRUNK FOOD! Here are more of those wonderful places that stay open well past closing time at your favorite bar or club. Take your new special friend to one of these places and really impress them.

- Thad Suzenski

Maoz We've talked about Maoz before but for a late-night bite that is vegetarian friendly, it’s hard to beat Maoz for falafel, even if the place is part of a worldwide chain. The variety of ingredients available gratis at the salad bar make it worth the trip alone. This place is perfect for when your show at the TLA or Dobbs lets out.

248 South Street (215) 625-3500

Underdogs Drunks, hot dogs, fries and more dipping sauces than you can shake a wiener at make this Center City and South Philly (just north of Geno’s) late night treat. Try "The Michigan" for an indulgent pile of chili & cheese. The 9th Street location stays open until 4 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays.

132 S. 17th Street and 1205 S. 9th Street (215) 665-8080 and (215) 551-8080

The Dapper Dog Northern Liberties’ best spot for an outdoor drunkfood fix. Go hang in the garden and people watch to your heart’s content. They only stay open until 2:30 a.m. on the weekend so get there quickly after the 700 closes. Check their Twitter page before your visit.

Northwest corner of 2nd and Poplar streets @thedapperdog

David's Mai Lai Wah Known for their salt & pepper dishes — squid or chicken wings — this Chinatown late-night eatery has some 'secret' dishes for those in-the-know. Ask to see the "noodle menu" if they didn't already give it to you and get yourself full on pork & carbs.

1001 Race Street (215) 627-2610

Lorenzo and Sons

They recently made a triumphant return to the South Street scene after a fire severly damaged the building.

The lines are back and it's pretty insane. Grab a cheesesteak from Jim’s, wrap it in a slice of Lorenzo’s and you got yourself a “South Philly Taco."

305 South Street (215)627-4110

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ISSUE #10

SUMMER 2013

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INSIDE THE MIND OF

REEF LOST CAUZE THE

INSIDE: KINDRED THE FAMILY SOUL, THE DELL MUSIC CENTER, CRUISER, THE GUILD, ZWAANENDAEL & MUCH MORE