PUBLISHER: www.sitemagnify.com EDITORIAL ASSISTANT: Maggie Tello Case CONTRIBUTING WRITERS: Ivan Gomez, D’Arcee Krueger (www.calimarirecords.com), Maggie Tello Case, Jessica Gilfillan, Oscar Lopez. Beehive Design Collective. LAYOUT/CREATIVE DIRECTOR: Sancho Corilla CONTRIBUTING ARTIST: Roy Park (http://hellobook.org), Optimist (http://timtheoptimist.tumblr.com), Kirsty Benbow, Daniel Cautrell (www.dancautrell.com), Beehive Design Collective. PHOTOS: Daniel Cautrell, Daino, Melissa McCluskey-Carlson, sv1, Don Chano, Jovi Esquivel EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: El Daino WEB ASSISTANT: Neurodexter, Sancho Corilla ADDITIONAL HELP: Ken Stansbury, Christie Time Firtha, Alex Sanchez SPECIAL THANKS TO: Greg, Mr. V, Lucy, Suzanna, Amanda and Justin, Ashley, Carlos, Chloe, Bosco Mann, Rico, Ken, Pavel, Roy, Richele, Mike, The Sweeney & Culver Center (http://culvercenter.ucr.edu), Elliott K., Ruby, Ivan, E.h., To-Do Fest, Back to the Grind, Fritz, David, Nate, Haider, Tina, D’Arcee, Mike & Leanne, Sharlynn, Mark & Gwen, Julie, Karen, Renee, Brian, Adam, Jeanne, Mano, Henry, Marco, Sierra and all our friends and contributors that continue to support Plastic Water.
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DEDICATED TO:
Jon Veitch Joshua Duran Ryan Michael Loyd Victor Moreno R.I.P.
All material published in Plastic Water is published with permission from the author. *Cover art and design by Daino
The opinion expressed are solely those of the author or interview author and not necessary those of Plastic Water. copyright©2012plasticwater.us Contents may not be sold or reproduced in any form without the expressed legal consent of copyright owner. March 2012 * Riverside, CA
The band POLITE has been a local favorite and a fixture of the downtown Riverside independent music scene for the past five years, playing every venue available in a town that markets itself as a “City of the Arts”, but historically, has provided very limited support and even fewer venues, for smaller, unsigned acts and performers. The band, consisting of Adam Griffin on guitar and vocals, Matt Buchan on guitar, Henry Montoya on bass, and Mark Griffin on drums, draws from a variety of styles such as Wall-of-Sound Motown and Soul to Grunge and Pop Rock to create their own specific blend of music. Adam Griffin’s singular vocals, which are the impetus to Polite’s unique sound, give the band’s sound an accessible quality, making the music very relatable. These are songs you could sing along to in the car at the top of your lungs. After a few fits and starts over the past three years, Polite is ready to unleash their music upon the rest of the world with their debut release, Bless the Distractions. Musician and independent music producer, D’Arcee Krueger sits down with Polite frontman, Adam Griffin and gets the lowdown on the Polite sound.
-Maggie Tello Case
D’ARCEE KRUEGER: What is
the origin of your band name? ADAM GRIFFIN: I have always liked one-word band names. During the late 90’s and early 00’s, there was a surge of bands with these giant, seriously deep and dark names. Band names like “These autumn leaves turn colors inside us.” Crazy stuff like that. It always felt like too much chocolate cake to me. Too rich and hard to swallow. So I knew I wanted something concise, and that I didn’t want it sound so serious. The name is also kind of an homage to one of my favorite bands “Pixies.” Both one word “P” names. You guys definitely have a unique sound. Who are your major influences? I can’t speak for the other guys, but my major influence when writing songs is the “Motown” sound. I know it isn’t very apparent when listening to our songs, but that’s the sound that pushes me forward regardless. The writing team of Holland-Dozier-Holland humbles me almost on a daily basis. I’ve probably ripped-off “Pixies” more than any other band though. How long have you all known each other? How did you meet? Well Mark and I are brothers, so we’ve know each other our whole lives. My brother recruited Matt, who he knew from high school. I recruited Henry via an ad I put out on the internet for a bass player. So I didn’t really get to know Matt or Henry until the band got together almost four years ago. But it feels like I’ve known them a lot longer. Being in a band is definitely an interesting way to get to know someone. A lot can
happen in the dead of summer in a cramped room after you’ve played the same song a hundred times. How long has Polite been a band? Has there been any change in band members? We are going on four years. I had about half of the songs we play written a year prior to that. I worked out the songs with just my brother on drums. So it was a two-piece for about a year. Then Mark invited Matt and our previous bass player to join. That line-up lasted about a year, and then Henry replaced our former bass player. We’ve been fortunate enough to keep the same line-up ever since. Keeping a band going in your late 20’s/ early 30’s is not easy. Just organizing a band practice can feel like planning a wedding. Where have you performed? Is there anywhere you would like to perform that you haven’t yet? We’ve pretty much performed at every venue available to us in downtown Riverside. I still live in downtown only a few blocks from where I grew up, so I tend to stay close. Nostalgia is a hell of a drug. I’d love to perform in more backyards though. No kidding. Backyard parties are a dying art form. Technically I’m a little too old for that kind of party, but I’m totally ready and willing to be called a fool for keg beer and angry neighbors. Who writes your songs? What are the main themes or topics for the majority of your songs? I write the bones of our songs, but the band all has a hand at fleshing them out. Most of our songs would be acoustic dribble if it wasn’t for the boys in the band.
As far as themes go, I don’t think the songs really follow any one theme or topic in particular. I just tend to write about whatever is currently bothering me. What is your songwriting process? Could you briefly describe? Songwriting is like pulling teeth most of the time. I would give anything to be able to shit songs out. But, that just doesn’t happen. I tend to write every song on my acoustic guitar first. Then, I present it to the band. They sprinkle their magic on top. I then sing gibberish until I gather up the courage to write some legitimate lyrics. I’m not proud of this process by any means. But it works for me, so I employ it with fingers crossed. What are rehearsals generally like? Like I mentioned before, just making a rehearsal happen can feel like an act of God. When we are all in a room together playing music, it feels really good. That moment when a song falls into place is why I keep doing all of this. It’s a great feeling. I think that’s why most bands do what they do. Writing songs, and watching them come to fruition during rehearsal is a beautiful thing. I love it. How has your music evolved since you first began? I think in the past four years we’ve all become better players. So, maybe our music has become a little more refined. At least I hope it has. I feel like our songs have slowed down a bit. I know that’s a huge cliché for bands, but I can’t lie. It’s even happening to us.
What has been your biggest challenge as a band? Probably making our upcoming record (slated for a January 2012 release). It took three years of on and off recording to finish. But it’s finally done, and we are really happy with how it came out. It took so long to make the record, we already have enough material for another record. I learned a lot while making this one, so the next one should move along much faster. Where do you see the band in 5 years? Hopefully still playing music together. I can’t speak for the other guys, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always write songs, so it just makes sense to be in a band and perform them. I just really want to make more records. When our band plays a show five years from now, I want our merch table to sag from the weight of our multiple albums.
more info: www.myspace.com/politesongs
Deseo montar potros metálicos con roncos gemidos azabaches y viscerales mecanismos de ocho cilindros que mis versos tornasen en metálicas libélulas que condujeran al hombre a galaxias de ensueño.
Deseo orbitar en los satélites del recuerdo borracho, con mi equipaje lleno de meditaciones; penetrar a tropel los colores del éter, el frufrú del silencio y el límpido llanto…
Viaje. by Oscar Lopez
Plastic Water contributor, Japan DE catches up with Oakland, California native, Optimist, on his origins, his art, and a group of East Bay artists who are influencing graffiti culture in Taiwan.
How did you come up with the name Optimist?
It all started in San Francisco, in 2004. Some close friends decided that I reminded them of somebody whose name should be Tim, which made no sense to me at all. They said I had a baby face and that my name should be Timmy. After this profound discovery they made about my name, they insisted on calling me Tim or Timmy from then on. Then, one night at a bar, me and Aider were sitting around, drinking, tagging on napkins. And I was complaining about some shit going wrong in my life, which at this point in my life there were many things going wrong, and Aider says to me, “There you go again, optimistic Tim.” I looked up and said, “Ooh, that has a nice ring to it. Optimistic Tim.” So I wrote it out on a napkin and caught a few tags writing the word Optimist. It felt right, it looked good, and the word Tim was in the middle of it. It was perfect. And from that night on I was Optimist.
Can you tell me about the Bay to Taipei connection?
It’s so synchronistic that they rhyme. The Bay and Taipei were linked through Chek originally, when he moved there in ‘05. He was the first cat from the Bay to really put a dent in Taipei. Chek was like the spark that created the whole movement out there. After hearing all the stories from the homies about their adventures in Taipei and Asia in general, I became really interested in the scene out there. Chek would come back to SF every summer for a few months and would tell me all types of crazy stories about painting out there... how cheep the paint was, how chill the cops were, and just how easy it was to get over out there. He made it seem like a dreamworld, some kind of graffiti wonderland, where you could do whatever you wanted and nobody was going to say shit.
One day, my girlfriend at the time gave me a copy of that magazine, While You Were Sleeping and there was an article about the night life and the graffiti scene in Taipei, written by Dabs, a Canadian writer who had been living in Taipei for a few years. After I read this article, I was set on moving there. I was still on probation for graffiti, and wasn’t really doing shit with my life, so I decided that as soon as I could get enough loot together, I was going to move my whole life to Taipei, Taiwan. I feel like the writers from the Bay who went to Taipei totally changed the face of the city and in the process changed some laws as well. We created the connection and because of that, inspired a whole generation of kids in Taipei to live life and do graffiti like people from the Bay do it. Taipei will never be the same again.
Being back in the states, what influences your current work?
To be honest, being back in the US is really not that inspiring. I guess it’s inspiring in a negative way, which to me still produces powerful images and symbols, but it’s on a different hype than Asia. In Taipei, the vibe was a lot more positive and harmonious, it seemed like everybody was able to live, work, play, and exist together in peace. There is barely any homeless/crazy people out and about begging for money or trying to wash your windows. People don’t kill each other over petty bullshit and the police are not out to get you. There were fewer rules in general, and most of the time the rules were bended, or disregarded, situations were taken care of on the spot, and people told the truth.
Images courtesy of Optimist
Oakland is completely different, people don’t really get along, and they don’t respect each other. I’m not inspired by crackheads and I’m not trying to take their picture. I have seen that shit my whole life, it’s depressing. I’m not talking shit about the town, I grew up here. I love Oakland, but I feel like, while living in America, I’m inspired by the insane amounts of horribly negative atrocities going on here. The government, the media... our egos as Americans have been subconsciously blown out of proportion over the last twenty years. It’s our influence as Americans that is fucking up the planet, because everybody else in the world wants to be like us and is throwing away all their traditions to keep up with America. Rushing to the finish end blindly, obsessed with money and material possessions. Lately, all my work has been about Material-
ism invading the natural world. Man, Animal, and Machine, all fighting for the same space on earth. I try to be very blunt with my art. I want it to have a message instilled in the imagery and the technique. I have chosen the container ship as a symbol for Materialism, and have been doing a bunch of paintings and little drawings of the containers falling off the ships into the ocean or floating off into space. By drawing attention to these icons for the age of Capitalism and how our obsession is destroying Earth, maybe we can change our ways in time to save the planet. I know this doesn’t sound that optimistic but I feel like people need to wake up!
http://timtheoptimist.tumblr.com
Daniel Cautrell
Mudos nudos pululan en el gråvido instante del silencio; cuando la ausencia hiere y la palabra falta‌
Las vacaciones de las palabras.
by Oscar Lopez
I’ve been riding the bus for over a year now, twice a day, Monday through Friday. Mostly, I just keep to myself either reading or doodling in my notebooks. For the last four months, I have been a regular on the 10 line with the same driver in the mornings as well as the evenings. I know the drivers name, and I am somewhat sure that he may know mine. I do know however that he knows my face and on the odd day that I forget my wallet, he lets me ride anyway. Every day I wake up, get ready for work, and walk twenty minutes to my stop. I’ve gotten quite good at timing my arrival so that I can have a cigarette while waiting for the bus. I board, swipe my card, say my usual “How’s it going today Joe?”, and if it is available, I like to sit in the seat behind the back door. Last week, a new character was introduced to my routine. The Occupy protesters began to gather downtown, and I would see them twice a day on my route. They had big signs with bold slogans and marched back and forth along the crosswalk at every available opportunity. This irked Joe. “They have a right to protest, I know that.” He said, addressing the bus as a whole one day while I was on my way home. “I just hate waiting every single time for them to cross, it’s backing up the lines.” I was reading The Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy in my seat, and was trying not to pay attention. “I don’t even know what they’re protesting.” Said Joe. Before I could look up from my book, a woman who I did not recognize exclaimed “They’re just a bunch of communists. It’s not like the government is going to change or anything because a bunch of hippies can’t find a job.” The bus erupted in laughter, and I bit my tongue. I wanted to say “They just want the wealthy to pay their fair share. What we need is to all play by the same rules”, but I didn’t. I had been following
the Occupy Movement since its inception in New York. I had signed petitions online, seen the wealth discrepancy charts, and read the national articles. I would have been marching with them, but I could not. I had been arrested for protesting before, and could not risk more blotches on my record. It’s hard enough finding work with burglary and vandalism charges against a University Police Station. I stayed quiet, and I was ashamed. The sun sets while I ride home. As I stepped off the bus that evening, I said “Thank You” to Joe and saw that it was darker outside than I had expected. I walked up the hill home, obsessing about what I had heard and what I could have said. I played the scenario over and over again in my head, thinking of the statistics I could have stated or what I believed were the reasons for such prevalent national unrest. I couldn’t think of anything else that night. I felt a guilt that was heavy and foreign to me. I was possessed by the thought that I had perpetuated ignorance and had disappointed my own values. The next day, I felt terrible but still went through my routine. As I boarded the bus I meekly smiled at Joe. “How’s it going?” He asked. “Good man, good.” I lied. I sat closer to the front of the bus than usual, and waited until we would pass the protesters again. I had my book on my lap, but I couldn’t read comfortably. In my mind I had a penance to pay. As we neared downtown I could see the protesters on the horizon. My excitement grew but was dashed when he hit two green lights in a row. We passed them speedily and without haste. Still, I wanted to bring up what I thought Joe had a right to know. “Did you find out what they were protesting about?” I asked Joe after we had passed them. “No, not yet,” said Joe with a slight timbre of curiosity in his voice. “Do you know?”
sv1
Japan. March 2011
Kansas. March 2011
Courtesy of The Beehive Design Collective
info:
www.beehivecollective.org
Kirsty Benbow
To-Do Festival, Karen Wilson, Riverside, CA 2010 (photo by Daino)
Jovi Esquivel
El Pueblo Majico. Mexcaltitan, Nayarit, Mexico
La Venecia Mexicana. Mexcaltitan, Nayarit, Mexico
Melissa McCluskey-Carlson
Accidents by Jessica Gilfillan I am sorry if you think there is distance between us. I have spent my whole life logging miles between myself and the rest of the planet. It’s going to take a while for me to run all the way back to you, but, I promise, I’m jogging at a steady pace and I’ll make it to the end of this marathon eventually. The world is an ugly place full of accidents and purposeful ploys to destroy us. Sometimes they happen in parking lots, where nothing can be blamed but the collective act of being too busy to pay attention, where everyone walks away with nothing but empty resolutions to not check their cell phones or dwell on their failing marriages (at least not in parking lots of health food stores.) Sometimes they happen under freeway overpasses on rainy nights, and they’re scary enough to make a little sister run barefoot on the freeway in her pajamas just to hold her older sister in her arms and thank the sky that she’s alright. We held each other tight and were reminded to not take each other for granted, and also that Camaros aren’t very safe vehicles.
Sometimes they happen when a game is introduced to you and you play it because you’re unaware that the consequences of losing are decades of therapy. I have stepped on one too many landmines so forgive me if I dance around you like a Vietnam veteran I am nothing if not overly cautious and paranoid that the world is out to steal my happiness. I wrestled my soul out of the teeth of depression: I don’t need to tell you its jaw locks like a pitt bull’s. I made it out alive but not without a few battle scars that constantly relay an urgent message to my brain: TRUST NO ONE flashes neon behind my eyelids. So if I seem distant, know that it is because I am far away, running steadily toward the “EXIT” sign of the hell a broken childhood created. I know it seems like I’m going slow but I promise you, I’m going to make it, and if you will just be patient you can meet me on the other side. We’ll take that neon sign out of the window of my mind and smash it with a baseball bat, watching sparks splash across the street as I scream at the top of my lungs, “I’m free!” and I assure you, that will be no accident.
Kirsty Benbow
Daniel Cautrell
(L) El Salvador (R) Riverside, CA (photos by Daino)
Melissa McCluskey-Carlson
Jerry Brown, Riverside, CA 2010 (photo by Daino)
Creating Kindness by Jessica Gilfillan Compassion swells inside of me, a deep well wishing to be ladled out to others who weren’t graced with anything deeper than a shallow basin to cradle and beg you to fill, thirsty for a taste of grace every few minutes in this wasteland of apathy. I know, we’re trained to look out for number one, maimed by selfish ambitions ingrained in our heads by a sick world set on keeping us in a stasis of surviving. But I know your heart has been unexplainably filled with an overwhelming desire to be kind to a stranger at some point in your existence. I urge you to follow it: when the homeless teenager asks you for the second time to put a little more chocolate sauce on the top of his free blended drink, layer it on with gusto. Because he’s just trying to make his world a little bit sweeter. We’re all trying to make our worlds a little bit sweeter. Hatred tends to spread faster than wildfire or Beiber fever, but kindness requires the extra mile, teeth clenched as you hover your hand over your horn when someone cuts you off instead of honking it mercilessly.
Kindness takes acknowledging that the world doesn’t owe you anything, not 180 degree lattes or clear freeways or speedy service from a frazzled waitress that probably has something slightly more important on her mind than the status of your fettuccine. You don’t know where I’ve been, and I don’t know where you’ve been, but I can guarantee you that we’ve both seen tumultuous times. So from one person who has spent all night crying because people are just MEAN sometimes, to another, try to be kind. Dig down through the rough exterior the world has created on your soul to find a well of compassion to water the thirsty passersby.
Pienso en el viento que desgarra el límpido murmullo del alba; la hebra multicolor del atardecer, y mi corazón que tintinea junto al suspiro que se consume lentamente…
Comme lui je me consume.
by Oscar Lopez
Melissa McCluskey-Carlson
Kartik Seshadri,
Culver Center of the Arts. (photo by
Daino)
Resonate/Obliterate I.E., Julie Tolentino, 2009 (photo by Daino)