Swedish indie-pop star on the rise, Oscar Stembridge debuts in LA

Stembridge is very much his authentic self

By SIMHA HADDAD

HOLLYWOOD - Swedish indie-pop star on the rise, Oscar Stembridge, made his Los Angeles debut Wednesday at Hotel Café in Hollywood.

An intimate crowd gathered in the cozy room, filling the dimly lit space with anticipatory buzz. A group of ladies ordered cocktails and wine at the full bar while chatting excitedly with the bartender about the 15-year-old indie-pop rocker. Audience members seated in the scattered chairs around the half-moon stage waited expectantly for the young winner of the Swedish pop awards to appear.

Promptly at 9:15, Stembridge stepped on stage, guitar slung over his shoulder, his signature floppy blond hair covering half of his boyish face. His demeanor was immediately likable, modest yet confident, and grateful for the chance to play for his first-ever Los Angeles audience.

“Thank you all so much for being here,” said Stembridge, his smile a mix of young Harry Styles and his own unique brand of innocent teenager.

While Oscar may look even younger than his fifteen years, his originally composed songs cover weighty adult topics like climate change and the Russian-Ukraine war. Topics that Oscar told The Blade were as close to his heart as his teenage woes, like breakups and being dumped.

“With the Russian-Ukraine war starting and with the climate and food crisis getting worse, it all felt like too much for me,” Oscar told the crowd. “I thought, what if I wrote a song where the world didn’t have all these problems?”

“If I’m a fool for dreaming, then what is left for me?”

The song entitled “What If” resembles a modern-day “Imagine” by John Lennon and describes a similarly idealistic alternate reality followed by the particularly poignant question, “If I’m a fool for dreaming, then what is left for me?”

The audience applauded heartily throughout the set that weaved between released and unreleased original songs and covers by well and lesser-known artists. The crowd was particularly moved by Oscar’s intermittent speech about “being your authentic self.”

“If anyone here feels like they have to put up a façade, you don’t have to do that,” Stembridge said before performing his song “Fake Front.” “People will like you if you are being authentic to yourself.”

True to his song, Stembridge is very much his authentic self. His intelligent but easy-going nature was natural and unrushed as he moved slowly through the crowd after his show, taking time to give each person a turn of his full at- tention, engaging every fan in easy and flowing conversation.

Hotel Café was a first stop on a long list of to-dos for Stembridge’s one week in the US. Between being featured in a documentary, an exciting new collab with YouTube violinist Karolina Protensko, and several other professional engagements, Stembridge’s short trip to the States is jampacked with projects aimed at increasing his presence in the US.

“I feel amazing,” Stembridge told The Blade after his per- formance. “As an indie artist, I was able to come here and do my first gig in Los Angeles. It’s a dream come true.”

After LA he travels to Austin, Texas where on August 9th, he’ll attend the world premiere screening of Primitive Planet Director Brian Gregory’s film, ‘Trust Your Wild Side with Oscar Stembridge,’ a captivating documentary that follows the incredible journey so far of Stembridge.

After the screening, he will perform his first headlining concert in the USA, playing to thrill the audience with his catchy melodies and heartfelt lyrics.

BOOKS ‘Moby Dyke’ a funny memoir-in-a-bar

A writer’s quest to visit the 20 remaining lesbian bars in U.S.

By TERRI SCHLICHENMEYER

The last stool on the left, over by the neon beer sign, is yours.

That’s your spot, the place where you can see almost the entire place. You hold court there, have a few drinks there, and you meet new friends. On that stool, you’re among your people but enjoy it while you can: In “Moby Dyke” by Krista Burton, your seat is in a dwindling place.

A few years ago, toward the end of the pandemic, masking, and lock-downs, Krista Burton was asked what she missed most. Her answer was a surprise: she longed to be in a crowded “dyke bar,” shoulder-to-shoulder with people like her.

Dyke bars. Wouldn’t that make a great subject for a book?

Burton found an agent but then she found bad news: supposedly, there were just 20 lesbian bars left in the entire country.

Not wanting to miss an opportunity, and with book contract in hand, Burton began planning roadtrips. It was, she said, “the gayest possible dream project.”

She began in San Francisco at “the oldest ... lesbian-founded, owned, and continuously operated bar” there. From her home in Minnesota, she flew to New York City to visit two lesbian bars. A visit to a San Diego bar was wrapped up with a friend’s wedding.

By Krista Burton

Burton’s husband, a trans man, loved the football atmosphere in a Milwaukee lesbian bar. She caught a drag show in Indiana. Columbus, Ohio was “extremely queer-friendly.” She endured karaoke in Nashville, and she visited a cannabis dispensary while in Denver. Seattle was a place of nostalgia. She was mistaken for straight in Houston, was impressed by a real Dallas club, almost missed visiting a Mobile bar, wanted to quit when she was in Atlanta (but didn’t), then went to Phoenix and Richmond, imagined herself as a “senator’s gay wife” in Washington D.C., and she wrapped her tour up in Tulsa and Oklahoma City.

Once, Burton says, LGBTQ people were persecuted and arrested for dancing, drinking, and for being themselves in a public place.

“We could all go anywhere now.”

Just 20 lesbian bars? You’re giving that “Whaaaat?” squint, aren’t you?

It’s OK, author-blogger Krista Burton addresses that number at the end of “Moby Dyke” by writing with delight that since lock-downs ended, lesbian bars have rebounded.

She doesn’t address the bars she missed in the first place.

And yet, you’ll get the picture with the 20 she includes – in part, because, as she admits and as many bartenders and owners told her, lesbian bars aren’t just for lesbians anymore. To call a drinking establishment a “lesbian bar” ignores the diverse crowds, drag shows, quiet activism, and the inclusion that’s now offered alongside the fun Burton craved.

Don’t think this book is all about bar-hopping, either. It’s funny, with observations that are so sharp, they’ll cut you, and it’s part memoir that’ll hurt your heart.

Yes, there are omissions in this book but what’s here overshadows what’s missing. If you want a funny memoir-in-a-bar, grab “Moby Dyke” and pull up a stool.