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What’s New at In Mo?
Volume 21 Issue 12 November 10, 2014
For 20 years The Synthesis’ goal has remained to provide a forum for entertainment, music, humor, community awareness, opinions, and change.
Amy Sandoval amy@synthesis.net
Creative Director
Columns
This Week...
Publisher/Managing Editor
Mad Sweet Fly Pumas
PAGE 8
Letter From the Editor by Amy Olson
amy@synthesis.net
Tanner Ulsh graphics@synthesis.net
Entertainment Editor
PAGE 4
Productivity Wasted
Arielle Mullen Arielle@synthesis.net SynthesisWeekly.com/submit-yourevent/
by Eli Schwartz
pwasted@synthesis.net
Associate Editor
PAGE 5
Letters to Desmond
Emiliano Garcia-Sarnoff emilianogs@gmail.com
by Zooey Mae
Designers
zooeymae@synthesis.net
Liz Watters, Mike Valdez graphics@synthesis.net
Deliveries
Immaculate Infection
Jennifer Foti
by Bob Howard
Contributing Writers
Madbob@madbob.com
Zooey Mae, Bob Howard, Howl, Koz McKev, Tommy Diestel, Eli Schwartz, Mona Treme, Emiliano GarciaSarnoff, Jon Williams, Sean Galloway Alex O’Brien
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Grave Concerns By Sean Galloway
Photography Jessica Sid Vincent Latham
PAGE 17
Nerd
The Frugal Terran
Dain Sandoval dain@synthesis.net
Accounting Ben Kirby
Director of Operations Karen Potter
Owner
Bill Fishkin bill@synthesis.net The Synthesis is both owned and published by Apartment 8 Productions. All things published in these pages are the property of Apartment 8 Productions and may not be reproduced, copied or used in any other way, shape or form without the written consent of Apartment 8 Productions. One copy (maybe two) of the Synthesis is available free to residents in Butte, Tehama and Shasta counties. Anyone caught removing papers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. All opinions expressed throughout the Synthesis are those of the author and are not necessarily the same opinions as Apartment 8 Productions and the Synthesis. The Synthesis welcomes, wants, and will even desperately beg for letters because we care what you think. We can be reached via snail mail at the Synthesis, 210 W. 6th St., Chico, California, 95928. Email letters@ synthesis.net. Please sign all of your letters with your real name, address and preferably a phone number. We may also edit your submission for content and space.
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by TripHazard
Sean Hayes Interview
PAGE 18
PAGE 19
Free Culture by Alex O’Brien amateurzen.us
PAGE 20
Supertime!
by Logan Kruidenier logankruidenier.tumblr.com
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Kozmik Debris by Koz McKev
kozmckev@sunset.net
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Howl howlmovesmountains.tumblr.com
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210 West 6th Street Chico Ca 95928 530.899.7708 editorial@synthesis.net
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 3
Phoning It In Here it is, the week I’ve been freaking out about. By the time you read this I’ll be married to the kindest, smartest, most loving man in the world. I’ll be all done with planning and prepping and lying awake at night fretting over possibly forgotten details and unanticipated disasters; I’ll just be living life again (plus a shiny new surname—weird). But right now, today, I’m so in the weeds with all this mess that I have to do the unthinkable: take the week off. I leave the paper in the capable hands of Mr. Emiliano Garcia-Sarnoff, trusting he won’t abuse his power by running a piece of his own fiction as the cover feature. Dain and Amy, by the time you’re reading this, you will have made love for the first time! We hope it was wonderful and we’re sad we couldn’t join you.
Kidding! I really enjoyed this story, and thought you would too. There’s nothing like a good read on a chilly morning; a hot cup
of coffee in your hand, vivid descriptions floating through your mind, pulling you fully away from the world. And this story stirred up some long forgotten scraps of the past for me. Partying in the ‘90s was a very particular kind of experience, one that isn’t easy to describe without full context, and this piece really captured it. Be sure to read the second half next week, shit gets cray. Do you also dabble in fiction writing (or any writing, for that matter)? We’d love to check it out. Submit a sample to us—editorial@ synthesis.net—a 500 word teaser would be a great place to start. Jeez, didn’t I say I was taking the week off? What am I doing—here’s a bunch of pictures of cats in wedding gowns:
Congratulations on your marriage, The Synthesis Weekly Staff
Now Hear This SYNTHESIS WEEKLY PLAYLIST Mr 3
Tanner Mr 3 - “Potty Mouth” Liz Devin the Dude - “What a Job” Mike Ja Rule - “The Inc” Stephen Aron Chupa - “I’m an Albatroz” Matt Jimi Hendrix - “All Along the Watchtower” Becca Elliot Smith - “Angeles” Alie Hozier - “From Eden” Andrea Banks - “Beggin’ for Thread” 4
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
Letter From the Editor by Amy Sandoval amy@synthesis.net
Sproggiwood and Ziggurat TWO WORTHWHILE INDIE GAMES Although there are plenty of releases with plenty of hype, and also a Call of Duty, I get a sick sort of pleasure out of reviewing indie games while larger titles loom in the distance. I’m constantly tasting and examining games large and small and, in the past few weeks, these two very different games caught my eye. What they have in common is that they’re both made by small developers, they’re both rather simple in execution (and therefore harder to talk about for 500 words) and they’re both excellent little games. Sproggiwood is probably the cutest Roguelike I’ve ever played, and it might also be one of the games that best earns that title. It’s very similar to the original Rogue of 1980, a turnbased RPG where ASCII characters were used as placeholders for adventurers, monsters, and treasure. Cooked up by D&D addicts at the UC Santa Cruz Computer Lab, Rogue was to video RPGs what Moby Dick was to the novel. In Sproggiwood, the player selects from a variety of classes and wanders out into a randomly generated dungeon, where as they level up, they can choose from four different abilities, and must tactically manage space, health, and stamina against cleverly designed enemies. The setting is a cutesy retelling of Finnish mythology, and completing dungeons unlocks new pieces for the little village the player can design. Don’t let the happy-golucky attitude of the game fool you, however. Sproggiwood is hard. After a few easier first levels, the player finds that they must make every move count. Its variety of items, classes, dungeons, and random generation gives Sproggiwood an awful lot of replay value, and its silly yet notso-silly storyline is hard enough to beat that even without replaying much at all, the player gets a good amount of mileage from a game
that looks simple on the surface and is welldesigned underneath. Ziggurat, meanwhile, is another Roguelike, but of a very different sort. It’s a first person shooter with fast-moving enemies and legions of bullets streaming across the sprawling dungeons. The player is a mage traversing some sort of arcane proving grounds, slinging spells, wielding staves, and using alchemical items. It’s similar to the (now somewhat infamous) Paranautical Activity in that it seems like a weird combination of Quake and The Binding of Isaac, but these comparisons, although more recognizable, miss out on a better one. It’s likely inspired by 1994’s Heretic, another first-person magic-shooter set in a sprawling dungeon, adapted off the original Doom engine. Much like Sproggiwood, Ziggurat is hard, and it has an essential learning curve for anyone who picks it up, if only to adapt your reflexes to all the projectiles. It also has an enormous variety of items, plenty of characters with fundamental differences, and no shortage of challenges necessary to unlock said items and characters. Thanks to random generation, any of them could happen, and the replay value of the game goes up exponentially. There’s a reason Roguelikes have done so well recently: they’re cheap, lean, and hard to get tired of. As a genre of game, they emphasize that the most important thing is the cleverness and thoroughness of design, so they’re easy to dote on as smart little underdogs.
Productivity Wasted by Eli Schwartz
pwasted@synthesis.net
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 5
Yada, yada, yada Letters to Desmond by Zooey Mae
zooeymae@synthesis.net
Frequently I find my life paralleling Seinfeld. Not in a hilarious, fun way, more just like a nuisance. It’s also possible my life is nothing like any episode of Seinfeld, but that everpresent bugaboo stochasticity is just tricking my broken brain into thinking it is. I’m pretty sure my broken brain is easily tricked. In any case, do you remember the Seinfeld episode when Kramer runs the marathon and refuses to wear the AIDS ribbon? I ran into my own similar situation today after voting in this midterm election. Sometimes if someone asks me to do something in a way that implies I have no other choice, I’ll automatically rally against it. I don’t know why. I think they call that… being an asshole? Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, I went to my usual polling place, filled out my ballot, dropped it in the box, and was heading out the door when the man called after me, “You forgot your sticker!” Ah yes. The infamous little “I Voted” sticker. I’d usually have just shut up and taken one, but just a few minutes prior (the space between filling in the no bubble on A, and yes on B, to be precise), I was contemplating the waste involved in manufacturing so many stickers that were only going to be worn for a few hours (at
6
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM
NOVEMBER 10 2014
most) then discarded. Logistically, I know that on the scale of useful to wasteful, those dumb stickers (probably) barely register. So there I was, I’d cast my ballot and was heading out the door, when a short man with clipboard in hand called out, “You forgot your sticker!” (I think entire wars have been waged by short men with clipboards.) I think I shrugged him off with a “no thank you, sir,” but knowing how my broken brain can misinterpret things and will oftentimes lose the correct message between my mind and my mouth, I might have said something like “Don’t-want-that.” He then proceeded to (unconsciously) echo the mob of marathoners in Seinfeld by yelling, “You don’t want the sticker?! But you MUST take the sticker!” “I MUST take the sticker? Well that’s why I don’t want to take it.” I think at that point I was glowing with that special sort of smarmy, self-satisfaction that comes from perfectly constructing a bridge between the countless hours of pop culture you’ve absorbed, and an actual life experience. I think that satisfaction level rivals the feeling of creating a whole building of Legos made entirely of the same color, or using a Sharpie for the first time.
I stood there, waiting for the joke to land (the joke which made a very thinly veiled connection to one line of one show from decades ago), watching the space between his eyebrows shrink. Somewhere between an inch to a half inch, I admitted defeat, took the sticker, and slunk out. The takeaway of the story is that if shows from the early ‘90s taught me anything, it’s that you should just take the ribbon and shut up. Also, that most problems in the ‘90s could have been solved with the advent of cell phones, and that although everybody in Cheers knows your name, nobody knew how to pour a beer.
PHOTOS BY JESSICA SID
On The Town
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BY EMILIANO GARCIA-SARNOFF A few preliminary facts about mountain lions: The puma concolor, otherwise know as the mountain lion, cougar, panther, etc, holds the Guinness Record for the animal with the most names, probably because of its far flung distribution and mythological status. In American Indian mythology, the animal is subject to widely differing interpretations: the Ojibwe and Algonquins hold that the puma is a creature of the underworld and is wicked, whereas the Cherokee believe it is sacred.
1. (9:30 pm. The Lot) We were the bright-burning kids of the secret night, day-glow denizens of the last true underground subculture that would ever be—before social media and “coolhunters” and YouTube began to dig up everything instantly into the light, to be shuffled together, commodified, consumed, and then jettisoned back into the shadowless cultural soup. We were the unaccounted for pulls on the electrical grid, breaking into abandoned warehouses and cutting into their power lines. We 8
ran on generators in the middle of salt flats under full moons. We were the kids of broken homes who were not missed at age fourteen when we started going to all night parties. Our music was the pounding pacemaker that kept the pale daytime-world from dying on us altogether. We danced with acrobatic skills in circles. We locked arms and bounced and swayed on speakers whose heavy bass made our hairs stand on end. We were early warriors of post-ironic authenticity and love, still young enough to almost pull it off. We gave each other back massages, hugs, acceptance. In the middle of those teenage nights, we carved out something that was ours, something that held all the bullshit at bay. Historians of cool will not judge Ravers kindly, and justifiably so—we were overtly non-political pleasure seekers and dressed ridiculously— but what we created back then sustained us, even if we couldn’t sustain it. On Saturday nights, back in the
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
summer of 1994, there must have been little groups like ours loitering in parking lots all over the edges of LA. We were in the used-condom and you’ll-definitely-catch-AIDS-if-youstep-on-them needle-littered lot of our go to Denny’s, the one in the Valley, just off the 101; the one that, for the past three years, had a burnt out second “n” in its yellow glowing sign. We pronounced it “Denies,” as in, “I’ll meechu at Denies at eight, yo.” This was funny to us because, for the past several years, Denny’s had been fighting off a class action lawsuit for denying service to black people. Denies’ laziness and/or lack of ironic pronunciation abilities, in regards to repairing that second “n,” made us laugh every time. But we were teenagers who smoked a lot of weed, so we were laughing all the time anyways. Our cars were circled around the corner of Denies that had the pay phone. The flyer said the directions would be going up at nine. It was 9:30, and for the past half an hour,
one of us had been dropping a quarter into the thing nearly every five minutes. We came from a Surf town an hour and a half north of LA and, every time we came down for a party, this was our ritual. We’d meet at Denies, which was on the northern most edge of greater LA, and then we’d chill out in the lot until the directions came up.
Grunge days, and an animated way of talking that channeled the millions of hours of cartoons his mom had babysat him with. Beanstock was our little crew’s top comedian and our philosopher prince. He was the only one of us that was aware enough that he could talk about what we were about.
“Nada,” said Beanstock, dancewalking back over from the phone. He did a little Michael Jackson spin, then moonwalked the rest of the way, before hopping up to join me on the hood of his Dad’s big red Buick, his light arm looping around my neck like a Hawaiian lei. Like most of my friends, I’d grown up without a father. This sort of fraternal affection wasn’t something that ever felt natural to me. But it was something I craved.
Marcus was reclined out along the roof of the car—looking up at the last light of what had been a beautiful, smog-filtered sunset— beat-boxing. Marcus was the only non-waif in our group; a high school wrestler who had to cut weight to make a 180 pound limit. Marcus’ little brother had severe autism and his mom didn’t have anybody, so she wasn’t exactly on top of what Marcus was doing on Saturday nights.
Beanstock was wearing humongous denim overalls and a tall, floppy, Seussian hat made out of white rubberized foam. He was tall and lanky, as his name implied, with chin-length hair left over from his
I started singing in girlie falsetto over Marcus’ beat-box. Beanstock came in with some terrible imitation record scratching. Next to our car, Trisha and Nicole
WE WERE THE BRIGHTBURNING KIDS OF THE SECRET NIGHT, DAY-GLOW DENIZENS OF THE LAST TRUE UNDERGROUND SUB-CULTURE THAT WOULD EVER BE. were in the front seats of Trisha’s little fading blue Civic, the doors open, laughing at how dorky we were—as was our goal—glitter raining from their hair into the coke they had lined up on the perilously sloped dashboard. Past the Civic was Mark’s gleaming white Chevy truck, which had a camper shell. Mark and Stevie Pearson and some new girl were cackling in the back, their legs wrapped around exercise ball-sized, primary-colored balloons filled with dentist-grade nitrous oxide. Stevie Pearson was a sweet, quiet, elven looking kid who looked down when he spoke. He had to pull some seriously elaborate shit to sneak away for these nights. Last summer he had pretended to be registered for a weekend summer Space Camp. Got away with it, too. His mom and his stepfather were affectionless, slick-dressed professional types who did little with Stevie except build a fortress of rules around him. Once, when I was sitting with Stevie in his parents’ meticulous
dining room (talking about what I don’t remember) his stepfather had come up from his basement office for the first time all evening and had walked right past us as if we weren’t even there. If our little parking lot scene were drawn up into a toddler’s which one doesn’t match worksheet, a three-year-old’s pudgy little index would have easily drifted—Ouija board-like—to Mark. Mark had greying hair that he dyed back to a brown the shade of a molting deer pelt. He had once been a wine salesman, but had quit and gone headlong into this rave thing, dressing like us, taking on our lingo, going everywhere we went. He was old but, we told ourselves, he was friendly—and, more importantly, he supplied all sorts of things that we needed. He had a house—like a big old real house that we could go back to after parties. He taught us how to vaporize cannabis with an upsidedown blender and a frying pan. He had drugs and an ID to buy liquor or tanks of nitrous oxide and a big white Chevy that could get us to any
party. He didn’t even charge for gas. Stevie was on the pay phone now. “They’re up!” he yelled out in his distinct, froggy-sounding voice as he scribbled out the directions onto the back of the flyer. Then a moment later: “It’s up in the mountains!” When he was off the phone, he came over to us. “Cool if I ride with you guys?” He looked pretty high for this early in the night. Beanstock, Marcus and I didn’t normally begin getting fucked up until we left Denies. It didn’t matter. By the end of the night we’d all end up going through a Hunter S. Thompson trunk of intoxicants. “Course it’s cool, as long as you’re down to ride bitch,” said Beanstock, kindly. He was down. We slid off the Buick, then in across its long red benches, then bottomed out as we exited Denies’ sketchy parking lot, slipping into light traffic on
the 101 Southbound. Through the arterially branching freeways of LA, the taillights like red blood cells, we were coursing now; pulsing, destined; gliding along toward our special, secret organ—our very own social spleen—an organ that we imagined filtered out all of the angst and aloneness from our premillennial Southern California teenage lives and made things somehow pure and right again; an organ that, one day, we’d learn to live without.
2. (11:10 pm. The Charge) Stevie and I looked down on the fenced encampment, like raiders of a futuristic colony in some sci-fi movie. Inside, under the towering temporary halogens, bodies were teeming, moving with hive mentality—a single complex organism—big quivering clustered masses of people, giving way to rivulets going off this way and that. Outside of the fence, and beyond the small clearing that surrounded it, stretched an endless black forest. Uniformed guards paced inside the
fence line. One was looking at our position. He couldn’t see us, but he knew we were here. The rest of our friends had paid the outlandish twenty-dollar entrance fee, but Stevie and I were with what—judging from their voices— were a couple dozen others bent on sneaking in. I wasn’t sure why Stevie wanted to sneak in—kid was rich— but I didn’t ask. We were hidden on a hill of dense conifer, crouched on an outcropping of silvery rocks. The rocks were the only things you could make out in the blackness. The air was the sort of stuff that would be sucked into canisters and studied by Scandinavian chewing gum scientists. We crouched, because we quickly realized that if we sat, our hands and asses were poked by the pine needle litter and made all tacky with sap. Above us—in openings between the treetops—the stars shone as brightly as the cities we had all come from. Other than Stevie, I didn’t know FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 9
THE BLACKNESS WAS BECOMING DIMENSIONAL AND COLORED, LIKE CLOSED EYELIDS BEING PUSHED ON. what anyone on the hill looked like. Their faces were still secrets. We had gathered here in the blackness as strangers. But we were united. We were watching one of our own make a go for it. Over the silvery, starlit grass he ran. Green laser beams from the rave struck at his feet. One hit him in the shoulder, but he ran on. The guards hadn’t seen him yet. We spoke into the darkness, encouraging him. “C’mon, you’ve got this!” we said. “Stay in the shadows!” we said. “Keep to the left!” we said. He was heading for a large gap between two guards. It looked like he might make it. As he got closer, the encampment’s lights began to bring out his figure against the night; a small bright silent fish coming out of the unlit coral caves and over the swaying sea grass. He was twenty strides from the fence line when the guards spotted him. A tiny figure to us now, we could still make out the hesitation as it entered his loping gallop. He stutter-stepped; the 10
big pants that had been flapping behind him went limp, then he recommitted, arms like furious oars. He was over the fence fast. But as he parachuted down onto the other side in his size forty-fours, he stumbled over their fraying edges. That was all it took. They were on him like big nocturnal cats in nightvision hunting scenes on TV. They dragged him away, never to be seen again. Fuck. “He could’ve made it if he just, like, done one of those ninja rolls over the fence,” I said to Stevie Pearson. “I would have just busted a ninja roll. Or sprayed some Krylon in their faces like ‘Bow!’” I said, half-serious. “Oh yeah? I would have just flown over the fence and then, floating in the air, I would have been like ‘I need to dance’ in a way where, like, they know it’s true, you know? And they would’ve just looked at each other and let me come in,” came a voice, laughing now, that was
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
definitely not Stevie’s, emanating from the exact spot where I thought Stevie was. It was a girl’s voice. I started laughing, too. The sound of a lighter flick came and then, in the brief flash; haloed, floating—an apparition—the girl’s face. The flame caught hold on the second try. She was lighting a small, lumpy joint, and as she hit it, it flared up and I saw that I’d been right. This girl wasn’t just fine, she was beautiful, gorgeous. She had pale pink pigtails, freckled, porcelain skin and a necklace of pastel candies. She was like halfAsian or something. Girl was fine. “You wanna hit this?” she asked, and the joint’s dormant ember floated toward me, leaving a trail in its wake like a single tail light shot with a slow shutter. “Hell yeah,” I said, though I was somewhat concerned about getting
even higher than I already was. The mushrooms and E I had taken forty-five minutes earlier in the clearing that was serving as the rave’s parking lot were just starting to kick in. My body was beginning to buzz and surge with a rush of warm pleasurable energy. The blackness was becoming dimensional and colored, like closed eyelids being pushed on. “You want some shrooms?” I asked her, and—by feel—I took her hand and put a few caps and stems into her palm. “Hey! Everybody! Yo!” Stevie? “Look,” came Stevie’s voice from the all-enveloping blackness, maybe twenty feet down the hill. It was definitely Stevie’s voice; kid was like half human, half atoms apple. “We’re getting picked off by these rent-a-pigs going for it one by one. Here’s what we gotta do. We’ve
gotta charge it. We’ve gotta just all fucking charge it at once. There’s just three guards, as far as I can see. There’s gotta be like twenty of us up here. If we all charge it at once, most the facon can get of us is three, right?” I was flabbergasted that this was Stevie. Flabbergasted in that special teenager-coming-onto-E-and-aneighth-of-mushrooms kind of way. The full meaning of this unknown side of Stevie—normally a really quiet, shy kid who couldn’t break or tag or anything—overtook my whole body. Stevie was a complex human being, with untold secrets and depths, and I had been too cool (and insecure! And guarded!) to open myself to him. Tingling. Why was I so scared to bare my soul? Dissolving; shimmering into everything. When had I gotten like this? This feels good. And could I really run down this hill and across this field and over that fence? Emptiness and insecurity loomed up for a brief instant, the nightmare in a child’s closet, but I was still in
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control enough to close it back away. The questions and understanding and pleasure and warmth crashed over me and I swayed and my eyes rolled back briefly in my head and the infinite night sky came into view and the Milky Way was spilled in freeze-frame over us and we were flecks, tiny insignificant flecks just like the stars.
pharmacologically good fortune, we were running, flying.
No one said anything at first. Then the girl’s soft voice came, “I’ll totally do that.” And then a guy’s voice, inflected with an ese accent “You know what, ay? That’s actually a good idea, ay.”
The guards saw us. The guards went wideeyed and dismayed. We hit the fence with joyous battle cries, anesthetized and compelled like wind. We were over. We were gone. I don’t think they got a single one of us. We were gone, gone, gone; skipping now into the throbbing stumbling throngs and the artificial fog and the lasers. Now to find my friends.
“You’re not going to just fly over?” I said to the girl, in attempted flirtation. “Let’s all fly together,” she said. And I fell instantly in love.
3. (11:37 pm. In Media…Race!) Now we were running across the clearing; flying on adrenaline and flashing Adidas Shelltoes or fat-laced Pumas, phat pants flapping like proud flags, armed with giant Mickey Mouse gloves and masks filled with Vick’s Vapo-Rub and pacifiers and
In the party’s light I began to see my fellow runners for the first time. We smiled at each other. We smiled at each other and we knew. I mouthed, “I’ll find you inside,” to the girl and we smiled big.
Look for part 2 of this story next week, where some crazy shit does indeed go down.
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Open 9pm Bartender Specials $3 14oz. Slushies $4 20oz. Slushies
Open at 11am $4.50 Bloody Mary $5.50 Absolut Peppar Bloody Marys Noon - 6PM $8 / $9 SN Dom Pitchers $5.50 DBL Bacardi Cocktails
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7pm Full Bar in Back Room Weds, Fri & Sat Nights! PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Rock Out at The DL! Enjoy Live Music, Great Grub, and 10 9' foot tables Open @11am All ages untill 10pm
Baby Back Ribs w/Salad, Fries & garlic bread $11.99 8pm-Close $4 Single/$6 Double Jack or Captain $3 Sierra Nevada Pints FREE Pool after 10pm
10am -2pm $5 Bottles of Champagne with entree $4.50 Bloody Mary $5.50 Absolut Peppar Bloody Marys
Daily Happy Hour from 4-7pm PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Free Pool with Purchase! 1.00 off Sierra and Dom Pitchers $1.00 off PBR and Olympia Cans
$5.49 Grad/Garden/ Turkey Burger w/fries or salad Bloodies $3 Well, $4 Call, $5 Top, $6 Goose Mimosas $2/flute, $5/pint $6 CHEAP Beer Pitchers FREE Pool after 10pm
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F R I D AY 4 - 7 P M
HAPPY HOUR! THE PUB SCOUTS
319 Main Street (530) 892-2473
12
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
337 Main St. Responsibly 530-343-1745 Please Drink
6pm-Close $4.50 Grad teas $3.50 All beer pints FREE Pool after 10PM
Mon-Fri Happy Hour 12-4pm $3 Sierra & Domestic Pints
PATRON INCENDIO 11-close WE OPEN AT 12:00PM MIMOSAS WITH FRESH SQUEEZED OJ FOR $5 UNTIL 5PM.
8pm-Close Pitcher Specials $6.50/$9.50/$13 FREE Pool after 10PM
Open 9PM Bartender Specials $3 14oz. Slushies $4 20oz. Slushies
EAT. DRINK. PLAY.
Find Out How you Can Play Pool
Full Bar in Back Room Weds, Fri & Sat Nights! PBR $2.25 Everyday!
Please Drink Responsibly
HAPPY HOUR 4-7PM Beer Week Guinness cocktail specials Beer coozie giveaway at back bar
F r i d ay 4 - 7 p m
HAP Y HOUR!
THE PUB SCOUTS shirts 2 for $20 while supplies last
WATCH ALL THE GAMES HERE THIS WEEK!
Closed
Go DownLo
BEAR-E-OKE BURGER MADNESS! Bear Burger with fries or salad for $5.49. 11am-10pm.
Happy Hour 11-6pm select bottles & drafts $3
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2 FOR 1 BURGERS ALL DAY !! MINORS WELCOME!
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$2.50 Select Sierra Nevada or Dom Drafts $2 Kamis -any flavor All Day
$3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials Happy Hour 4-8pm
Happy Hour 4 - 7pm
Progressive Night:
Closed
$1.50 sliders and other cheap eats!
8 - 10pm $1 Dom, Wells & Sierra Nevada Pale Ale 10pm - Close: Up $0.25 per hour til closing
All 16 oz Teas or AMF $3 All Day
$3.50 Skyyy Vodka Cocktails $3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials Happy Hour 4-8pm
1/2 OFF EVERYTHING!!!
4-6pm $1 Dom Drafts $2 SN Drafts & Wells $5 DBL Captain Buck Night 8-Close $1 wells, SN Pale Ale, Rolling Rock, Dom Draft $3 Black Butte $4 Vodka Redbull
Closed
9pm - Close $2 12oz Teas $3 20oz Teas $2 Well, Dom Bottles & bartender Specials $5 Vodka Red Bull
Happy Hour 4 -7pm
4-6pm $1 Dom Drafts $2 SN Drafts & Wells $5 DBL Captain 8pm - Close $4 151 Party punch 22oz. 8 - 9pm $1 Pale Ale & Dom.Draft Up $0.25/ hr until close
Closed
$3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials Happy Hour 4-8pm
Happy Hour- 4-7pm $5 Fridays 4-8pm Most food items and pitchers of beer are $5
Power Hour 8 - 9pm 1/2 Off Liquor & Drafts (excludes pitchers) 9PM - Close $3 Domestic Drafts $9.75 Pitchers $5 Dbl Sugar Island Rum NO COVER
Open at 9pm
Hot "Dawgs" ALL DAY!
Mon. - Sat. 4pm - 6pm $1 Dom. draft, $2 SN Draft and Wells Power Hour 8 - 9pm $3 Domestic Drafts $9.75 Pitchers $5 Dbl Sugar Island Rum NO COVER
BOTTLE SERVICE Now Available! Call for reservation 898-9898
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LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM Closed
Go DownLo
BEAR WEAR! 1/2 off while wearing Bear Wear. MUG CLUB 4-10PM LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
WACKY WEDNESDAYS (8pm - close ) DJ Party 4 different DJ’s $1 wells $2 calls $2 domestic bottles $6 pitchers of well drinks
Go DownLo
Happy Hour 4 - 8pm Ladies Night! 8pm - CLOSE $5 Pabst pitchers $2 shot board $4 Moscow Mules $3 Jamo and Ginger Buck Hour 10:30 - 11:30
Early Bird Special 9-10PM 1/2 off wells
Happy Hour 4 - 8pm
Early Bird Special 9-10pm 1/2 off wells
FIREBALL FRIDAYS!!! 8pm - Close $3 Fireball Shots $4 Big Teas $3 Coronas
TRIKE RACES! Post time @ 10pm. Win T-shirts and Bear Bucks. MUG CLUB 4-10PM LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
1/2 OFF COVER before 10PM
BURGER MADNESS! Bear Burger with fries or salad for $5.49. 11am-10pm. MUG CLUB from 4-10PM
LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
Happy Hour 11-6pm $3 select bottles & drafts $2.50 16oz Wells All Day
Select Pints $3
LIVE MUSIC 1/2 OFF COVER before 10PM
Opening at 8pm for 80's NIGHT!! 8 pm - CLOSE $4 Sauza Margaritas $3 Kamis $3 Shocktop & VIP pint
Early Bird Special 9-10pm 1/2 off wells
KARAOKE "INDUSTRY NIGHT" 8 PM - CLOSE HALF OFF ALMOST EVERYTHING!(Except Red Bull and Premium Liquors) Specials All Day!
Call To Rent For Private Party
SMIRNOFF SOURS 10-close
LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1 AM
LIVE MUSIC 1/2 OFF COVER before 10pm
Go DownLo
BURGER MADNESS! Bear Burger with fries or salad for $5.49. 11am-10pm. LATE NIGHT EATS! kitchen open until 1am
$4 Sex On The Beach $4 Sierra Nevada Knightro ON TAP $1 Jello Shots 7-10pm $3 Fireball
$4 World Famous Bloody Joe $5 Premium bloodys your choice of vodka
$3.50 Tea of the Day Bartender Specials Happy Hour 4-8pm
$1.50 sliders and other cheap eats!!
PATRON INCENDIO 11-close
Champagne Brunch 11am - 2pm $4 Champagne with entree
Champagne Brunch and SPORTS!
TUESDAY
$3 SIERRA & DOMESTIC PINTS
THURSDAY
KINGS VS GRIZZLIES $3.50 SOCCER MOMS
134 Broadway St, Chico, CA | 530.893.5253
191 E. 2ND ST • 898-0630
BOTTLE SERVICE Now Available! Call for reservation 898-9898 Large selection of wines, sangrias and Martinis.
Open at 9pm Large selection of wines, sangrias and Martinis.
NEW THIS WEEK... TUESDAY $1 WELLS, DRAFTS, DOM. & SIERRA NEVADA 8-10PM PROGRESSIVE 10-2AM UP 25¢ PER HR. UNTIL CLOSE
WEDNESDAY $1 WELLS/ROLLING ROCK, PALE ALE & DOM.
Open ‘til 1am
$3 BUTTE PORTER
Sunday
$4 VODKA REDBULL
THURSDAY $1 PALE ALE & DOM. UP 25¢ PER HR. 8PM-CLOSE
Champagne Brunch 10am-2pm Every Sunday $3 champagne with purchase of an entrée
SHARKS VS PANTHERS
$4 151 PARTY PUNCH $5 DBL CAPTAIN
177 E 2nd St, Chico (530) 895-8817
no cover friday & sat 9-close sugar island rum $5 dbl.
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 13
This Week Only... Fine Dining in the Tradition of Southern Italy
SUBMIT YOUR EVENTS TO CALENDAR@SYNTHESIS.NET
BEST BETS IN ENTERTAINMENT
SICILIAN CAFÉ Thursday-Sunday, November 13th-21st
Celebrating 30 years !
Farm. Fresh. Italian. 1020 Main Street Chico 530.345.2233 14
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
Friday, November 14th
NIRVANOV BLUE ROOM THEATER
AVE GRAVE, LISH BILLS, CHRIS KEENE THE MALTESE
Friday, November 14th
Sunday, November 16th
Ever wondered what would happen if a musical theater enthusiast reimagined Kurt Cobain’s music and threw in some liberal doses of Anton Chekhov’s IVANOV? But of course you have! Featuring performances from Michael Bone, Ashley Garlick, Nikki Sierra, Matt Hammons and more, the combination of elements at play in this show are too bizarre to pass up (only one more weekend after this—closing night is the 21st). All ages, $10-$18, 7:30pm.
COMEDY SHOW 1078 GALLERY
Changing seasons got you down? Well, that’s stupid, because fall weather is glorious. But, if your Seasonal Affective Disorder is making you blue, or even if you’re simply looking for a few laughs, come check out Bay Area comics Mikey Walz, Walker Glenn and Aviva Seigel, with local support from Yusef Swaff, TJ Hudson and more! All ages, $10, doors at 7:30, show at 8:00pm.
This week at...
On
STAY POSITIVE PRESENTS: THE ITALS
13
With a show featuring incredible songwriters Sean Galloway (Ave Grave), Kirk Williams (Lish Bills), and Chris Keene, your attendance at this event should be a given. Come soak up some sweet sounds, feel all the feelings, and sample the ever-widening drink menu from the good folks at The Maltese. Show starts at 9pm and will set you back a measly $5, 21+.
TELLABRATION! CHICO WOMEN’S CLUB
If you’re part of the growing number of people who love the Storytelling movement, this is the event for you. A benefit for the 6th Street Center for Homeless Youth in Chico, this night will feature local storytellers as well as special guest storyteller Eileen O’Malley, music by the Michelin Embers, and dinner catered by Spice of Life. $20 for dinner & the show, $10 for the show only, 5pm, all ages.
CHERRY ROYALE & SWEET EARTH
14
VICTORY TO THE PEOPLE FT. WORLD’S
FINEST & LOW FLYING BIRDS
Main DOORS OPEN AT 9PM | HALF OFF DRINKS BEFORE 10PM
15
New & Exciting:
Butte College Black Box Theatre: Opening night of The Threepenny Opera, done in the steampunk fashion, with a nine piece orchestra! All ages, 7:30pm, presale tickets are $15/gen, $10/students, + $2 at the door. Canyon Oaks Country Club: Painted Cellars- Where Art and Entertainment Collide. 6-8pm, 18+, $45 Sierra Nevada Big Room: Steve Poltz & Ellis Paul. 6pm, all ages, $15
featuring Bay Area comedians Mikey Walz, Walker Glenn, and Aviva Seigel, plus locals Yusef Swaff, TJ Hudson, Celine O’Malley and more. 7:30pm, All Ages, $10 Blue Room Theater: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages Butte College Black Box Theatre: The Threepenny Opera! All ages, 7:30pm, presale tickets are $15/gen, $10/students, + $2 at the door. Cafe Coda: BOGG goes to the Movies. 11am, all ages, free. LaSalles: PYRX Harvest Sessions Pre-release party, also featuring J*Ras of SouLifted, Damon AZ Redsmoke, DJ Lil 50, & Rosa Scoma. 8:30pm, 21+, $3 before 10pm, $5 after. Everyone gets a free copy of the EP. Lost On Main: Cherry Royale and Sweet Earth. 9pm Maltese: Ave Grave, Lish Bills, Chris Keene. 9pm-2am, 21+, $5 Monstros: Man Vs. Man, Cities, Strange Ones, Blight. 8pm, all ages, $5.
1078 Gallery: Opening of Future MONCA, featuring panel discussion with 6 local art collectors. 5-7pm. Exhibit runs through 11/29. All Ages, free Blue Room Theater: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages Butte College Black Box Theatre: The Threepenny Opera! All ages, 7:30pm, presale tickets are $15/gen, $10/students, + $2 at the door. LaSalles: Happy Hour drink specials + Live Music from Them Travelin’ Birds. 4pm8pm, 21+ Laxson Auditorium: Whose Live Anyway. 7:30pm, all ages. $48/Premium, $40/Adult ,$38/Senior, $30/Youth, $10/ Student Lost On Main: Stay Positive Productions Presents: The Itals. 9pm
Blue Room Theater: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages Butte College Black Box Theatre: The Threepenny Opera! All ages, 7:30pm, presale tickets are $15/gen, $10/students, + $2 at the door. LaSalles: Happy Hour drink specials + Live Music by Slay it Forward. 4-8pm, 21+ Laxson Auditorium: North State Symphony: Imagine. 2pm, all ages. Advance tickets $36/premium, $6 students and children. Lost On Main: Victory To The People featuring World’s Finest and Low Flying Birds. 9pm Maltese: Dragopolis. 9pm1am, 21+, $3 before 10pm $5 after 10pm Subud Hall: Emperor and Empress Ball: Celebrate Life. 7pm, $10 suggested donation
10 Monday
Duffy’s: Novembeard checkpoint #1. 6pm
11 Tuesday
Energy Plant Arts: Energy Plant Sessions #4: CITIES. 7:30pm, all ages, free. Pre-register at cities.rsvpify. com Laxson Auditorium: Dance company Pilobolus. 7:30pm, all ages. $36/Premium, $28/ Adult, $26/Senior, $18/Youth, $10/Student
12 Wednesday
13 Thursday
14 Friday
1078 Gallery: Comedy Show,
15 Saturday
16 Sunday
Butte College Black Box Theatre: The Threepenny Opera!
Ongoing Events: 10 Monday
100th Monkey: Healing Light Meditation, 7pm-8:15pm The Bear: Bear-E-oke! 9pm Chico Womens Club: Prenatal Yoga. 5:30-6:30pm DownLo: Open Mic Comedy Night. Free. Maltese: Open Mic Music, Signups at 8pm, starts at 9pm. Mug Night 7-11:30pm The Tackle Box: Latin Dance Classes. Free, 7-9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Yoga Center Of Chico: Sound Healing w. Emiliano (no relation). Breathwork, Meditation, Healing.
11 Tuesday
100th Monkey: Fusion Belly Dance mixed-level class, with BellySutra. $8/class or $32/month. 6pm The Bear: Open Jam Night, featuring a different live band opening each week. Bring instruments, 9pm-1:30am Chico Women’s Club: Yoga. 9-10am. Afro Carribean Dance. $10/class or $35/mo. 5:50-7pm. Crazy Horse Saloon: All Request Karaoke. 21+ DownLo: Game night. All ages until 10pm Holiday Inn Bar: Salsa Lessons, 7-10pm LaSalles: ’90s night. 21+ Panama Bar: Tropical Tuesdays ft. Mack Morris & DJ2K. 10pm Studio Inn Lounge: Karaoke. 8:30pm-1am The Tackle Box: Karaoke, 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Woodstocks: Trivia Challenge. Call at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts 6:30pm
12 Wednesday
The Bear: Trike Races. Post time 10pm Chico Women’s Club: Afro Brazilian Dance. 5:30-7pm DownLo: Wednesday night jazz. 8 Ball Tournament, signups 6pm, starts 7pm Duffys: Dance Night! DJ Spenny and Jeff Howse. $1, 9pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm
The Maltese: Friends With Vinyl! Bring your vinyl and share up to 3 songs/12 minutes on the turntable. 9pm-1am The Tackle Box: Line Dance classes. Free, 5:30-7:30pm. Swing Dance classes. Free, 7:30-9:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Woodstocks: Trivia Night plus Happy Hour. call at 4pm to reserve a table. Starts at 8pm
13 Thursday
1078 Gallery: Future MONCA, featuring 6 local art collections. Free, open 12:30-5:30pm. The Beach: Live DJ, no cover, 9pm DownLo: Live Jazz. 8-11pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Has Beans Downtown: Open Mic Night. 7-10pm. Signups start at 6pm Holiday Inn Bar: Karaoke. 8pm-midnight James Snidle Fine Arts: Paula Busch-”Japan.” 9am-5pm LaSalles: Free live music on the patio. 6-9pm Maltese: Karaoke. 9pm-close Panama Bar: Buck night and DJ Eclectic & guests on the patio. 9pm Pleasant Valley Rec Center: CARD World Dance Classes. 6-7pm/ youth 10-17, 7-8:30pm/adults. $20/4classes Quackers: Karaoke night with Andy. 9pm-1am University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm Woodstocks: Open Mic Night Yoga Center Of Chico: Ecstatic Dance with Clay Olson. 7:309:30pm
14 Friday
1078 Gallery: Future MONCA, featuring 6 local art collections. Free, open 12:30-5:30pm. The Beach: Live DJ, 9pm Blue Room: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages Cafe Coda: Friday Morning Jazz with Bogg, happy hour. 10am-2pm Chico Creek Dance Center: Chico international folk dance club. 7:30pm, $2 DownLo: ½ off pool. All ages until
10pm. Live Music, 8pm Duffys: Pub Scouts - Happy Hour. 4-7pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Holiday Inn Bar: DJ Dance Party. 8pm-midnight LaSalles: Open Mic night on the patio. 6-9pm Maltese: Happy hour with live jazz by Bogg. 5-7pm. LGBTQ+ Dance Party. 9pm Panama Bar: Jigga Julee, DJ Mah on the patio. 9pm Peeking: BassMint. Weekly electronic dance party. $1-$5. 9:30pm Quackers: Live DJ. 9pm Sultan’s Bistro: Bellydance Performance. 6:30-7:30pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm
15 Saturday
1078 Gallery: Future MONCA, featuring 6 local art collections. Free, open 12:30-5:30pm. The Beach: Live DJ, 9pm Blue Room: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages DownLo: 9 Ball tournament. Signups at noon, starts at 1pm. All ages until 10pm The Graduate: Free Pool after 10pm Holiday Inn Bar: DJ Dancing. 70s and 80s music. The Molly Gunn’s Revival! 8pm-midnight LaSalles: 80’s Night. 8pm-close Panama Bar: DJ Eclectic on the patio. 9pm University Bar: Free Pool 6-8pm
16 Sunday
Blue Room: Nirvanov. 7:30pm, all ages Dorothy Johnson Center: Soul Shake Dance Church. Free-style dance wave, $8-$15 sliding scale. 10am-12:30pm DownLo: Free Pool, 1 hour with every $8 purchase. All ages until 10pm LaSalles: Karaoke. 9pm Maltese: Live Jazz 4-7pm. Trivia 8pm Tackle Box: Karaoke, 8pm
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 15
My Two Cents on the Republican Majority and ObamaCare DEAR REPUBLICANS – PLEASE DON’T LIMIT THE ABILITY FOR ME TO KEEP MY FAMILY PROTECTED. I woke up to the disconcerting news that the mid-term election resulted in a Republican landslide. I’m not a dyed in the wool liberal, in some areas I lean left and in others I go to the right. But I am a big fan of the Affordable Care Act. I understand it’s far from a perfect law, but on a personal level the passage of that bill has been a Godsend. Trish was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer back in 2007. The subsequent treatment was a grueling string of surgeries and reconstruction, and to this day, while she is cancer free, she suffers from severe side-effects resulting from the various procedures. There was nothing good about it, but I was fortunate enough to have had health insurance acquired through my employer. I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t had this insurance. While our co-pays were still upwards of five grand annually, the actual bills would have been upwards of hundreds of thousands of dollars. We would have had to sell our house and borrow from family. It would have been financially disastrous for us.
On The Town 16
PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
The company I worked for went out of business last October. As a result of Trish’s now “pre-existing condition,” we could not buy insurance on the open market, at any price. We were barred from entry. At that point, were it not for the impending Affordable Care Act, I would have had to go to work for a company that had a health plan, period. The ACA makes it so that now we can buy coverage on the open market, and I can be self-employed. It allows me to take a risk, to build a business, and to make sure my family is protected. For me, it has been a beautiful
and freeing experience. If I were the praying type I would be praying that the newly elected Republican majority not take away our access to healthcare. I’m not talking about free healthcare here, I’m talking about simply being allowed to buy our own insurance plan and not be turned away because my wife, like one in eight women, had to deal with breast cancer. I’d pray that the Republican majority understand that the ability to insure your family against medical calamity allows people the freedom to pursue their dreams—to start businesses, to be entrepreneurs. I mean, isn’t that what the Republicans are always clamoring on about: job creation, innovation, a fluid workforce? I don’t know, the whole thing seems to have floundered into a giant pissing match, but real people are caught in the middle. Real people will suffer if the ACA is gutted, or overturned. By all means work out the kinks, but please don’t restrict the ability for people to buy their own insurance. I don’t want to have to go get a part time job at Starbucks or UPS just so we can have access to health care. That would be a huge setback for me personally at this point in my life. Anyway, that’s my biggest fear as we move forward.
Immaculate Infection
by Bob Howard
Madbob@madbob.com
I Intend for My Music to be Earnest, but it is Oft Times Interpreted by Critics as Vern The West Side in LA is a terrifying mystery to me. I’ve played there a handful of times, but I’ve never been able to figure out what exactly the fuck is supposed to be happening there. The venues treat bands as if they should be thanking them on bended knee for the chance to play, and the bands themselves have a desperate hunger in their eyes that gleams from the stage in the most stomach-churning, foul way that it makes me seasick to watch. I also can’t afford an eyedropper’s amount of Jameson for 12 dollars, so the whole thing is just a nauseating wash. The bands will say things—into the microphone!—like, “Come up front, so we can feel your energy!” Barf. You don’t want my energy, Brad. My energy is surging toward the bar. $12 is perfectly reasonable, upon careful reconsideration. Climbing onto the stage at the Viper Room, the sound engineer asks us what we need. “Two mics up front, please.” He asks us if we will be “actually singing.” Yes. We will be. Hopefully into the microphones he’s going to provide. “The last band just gave me an iPod. Their mics weren’t even on.” We glance sidelong at each other in horror, while we hastily plug our mostly broken pedals together. The last band had three guys, we are now to understand, lip synching awful poppunk harmonies to a goddamned iPod. $24 is the perfect amount to spend on two drinks, here in Hell, and 36 bucks is starting to feel a lot closer to a Good Idea.
After we play to a surging crowd of about 25 people1, a very large, burly man, glistening with smoky bourbon sweat, descends on our pathetic merch table. “I’M GOING TO CALL DAVID IN THE MORNING,” he launches at us. “THAT WAS LIKE WATCHING THE DOORS AT THE WHISKEY IN 19702,” he hammers at us. Our faces must’ve belied some inner doubt as to the existence of this David character, and any phone calls he may or may not be receiving from this husky Barrel of Rye, because, “I’M GOING TO CALL DAVID IN THE MORNING!” he reasserts. Please, man. Call David. But maybe use a nice phone voice, instead of this coliseum announcer one you’ve got in play here. He buys three extra-small shirts (he is not an Extra-Small Man), both of our albums, and stumbles out onto Sunset Boulevard, still insisting that his morning telephone conversation with David will not only change our lives, but the course of Rock Music in America. He doesn’t, and it doesn’t. But he was a pretty cool guy, come to think of it. And West Hollywood isn’t so bad. And 48 dollars is the exact right amount to spend on four whiskies.
Grave Concerns By Sean Galloway
15 people, not surging. Or letting us feel their energy.
1
I hate the Doors, and have no idea if they played at The Whiskey in 1970. Jim Morrison could’ve died in 1940, for all I know. The Doors are bad. They made bad music that I dislike. 2
PHOTOS BY VINCE LATHAM FACEBOOK.COM/VANGUARD.PHOTOGRAPHY
On The Town
FACEBOOK.COM/SYNTHESISCHICO 17
An Interview With Sean Hayes BY ZOOEY MAE As an avid podcast listener, my first introduction to the music of Sean Hayes came with the song “Rosebush Inside (Moreese Bickham),” when Snap Judgment told the story of how this song had come to be. Although his featured song on the podcast was the thing that initially drew me in (I listened to it on repeat for the next few days straight), I was kept inextricably intertwined in the Sean Hayes fan net by his soulful, rougharound-the-edges voice and his haunting songs, which stuck with me. With Hayes’ recent show at Chico venue The Rendezvous, I was afforded the opportunity to talk to him about his interview on Snap Judgment, how fatherhood has affected his music, and Han Solo, naturally. Before we got into things he warned me that his newest baby was asleep in the next room, so he might have to interrupt the interview to pick him up if he woke. How did you first get into playing music, and was there anyone in your life who was particularly influential in driving your interest? Well, I didn’t start playing guitar and writing songs until I was older, in my late teens... I’m so bad at these questions [laughs]... When I was a little kid I remember I used to get these terrible migraines, probably around fourth grade. I think I was somehow just stressed out about going to school, so I’d get to stay home, and they’d just magically go away when I didn’t have to go to school. I’d sit and listen to records, and sing along with them. So I remember singing along with The Beatles, Billy Joel, and Blondie [laughs]… and I have an older brother who had a lot of records too, so I’d borrow those. I remember I just loved to learn the words and sing along to them when I 18
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
was super young.
parentheses so maybe people would find his story.
I first came across your music after listening to the Snap Judgment episode where you talked about your song “Rosebush Inside.” Can you talk a little bit about that song,
It was probably about six or seven years later that he emailed me and totally surprised me out of the blue, because I didn’t even know if he was alive. He came out to see me play, and it was just amazing to get to meet him. The Snap Judgment [episode] was a really interesting thing, too; just the realization that when you tell somebody’s story, you then become part of it. And you don’t realize it sometimes, because you tell stories about things that are so far removed from you, but they walk right into your life. It’s been really interesting. I love singing that song.
It was probably about six or seven years later that he emailed me and totally surprised me out of the blue, because I didn’t even know if he was alive. and how it felt to create something that affected Moreese Bickham’s life? Well, I don’t think I caused a huge change for him, but the fact that he ever even heard it was amazing. I just heard his story; read about him in a book that someone gave to me that was mostly about outsider artists and strange people, except that there was one story in there about people who had survived death row. There were transcripts in there in his own words, and I was so impressed by the dignity and hope in his voice, and lack of anger at what he’d been through. He was still in jail at the time… the song came out of reading those words and me wanting to remember that person’s attitude. I’ve never experienced anything close to that, but we all forget every day to be grateful. So it was just a really personal meditative rant to myself, and then it made it on a record I was doing; I put—after “Rosebush Inside”—(Moreese Bickman) in
What kind of projects are you currently working on? I’m working a little bit in sample-based stuff, playing around with some different software like Ableton Live, and teaching myself how to record and use some of these other programs. I’ve done a lot of pretty basic document-style recording, so I’m getting deep into learning about synthesizers and, I don’t know, just sounds. Creating sounds in the box a little more. And playing with buttons [laughs]. What kind of music do you listen to in your spare time, and do you listen to anything that you think people would be surprised to find that you like? I listen to such an array of things. I’m attracted to music that people would probably guess I’d like, because they can hear it in the music I make, like anthology of folk music and these really rough and raw recordings. But I also really love listening to Kanye records, and Kendrick Lamar, and the hip hop that’s been coming up. I really love James Blake. There’s also a guy named King Krule, I’ve been enjoying his stuff. He’s an English guy. I’m always searching it out, but I listen to music in little spurts. I listen to music much more intentionally probably than, I don’t know... I think people that make music don’t just
I Can’t Believe People Pay to Watch Television put music on in the background… [At this point his baby woke up in the other room.] I hear the baby crying, and I think he’s talking, so I’ll just have to pick him up. [Baby talk and generally adorable baby noises ensue.]
you have kids. It’s a very different thing. You don’t just walk out of the house anymore. [laugh]
I think people that make music don’t just put music on in the background…
I’m with the one, Mom’s out with the other. Do you think becoming a father changed your outlook in way that’s bled over into your music? I have two of them now, and the last record we did, Before We Turn To Dust, has a lot of baby things on it. A lot of those things I’d written on the way to becoming a father, knowing I was going to be a father, and then the first half a year of being a parent. And then deeper into that. I think the phrase I used was “same street, different planet.” You just wake up one day and everything’s the same, but you’re on a totally different planet because everything’s not the same. Your friends and everything else are the same, but you have this new creature. But it’s all about time and ability to travel, and that changes drastically just because they’re so… well, you spend 24 hours a day taking care of them, unless you can get help. It’s a really intense thing from the standpoint of trying to work and get things done. It changes all of that, my ability to spend time doing that. But then it inspires you in brand new ways, and terrifies you in brand new ways, and it teaches you a lot about the world, once
Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.
Hmm… well I pretty much just put it all out there, I don’t have any secrets. A radio announcer asked me the other day, “do you have any secrets?” and I said I don’t. I guess if I did, I probably wouldn’t say it on the radio. So let me think… I don’t really know. I’m really uninteresting. [laughs]. It’s funny, when I did that Snap Judgment thing, they were like, “do you have any stories?” and it took me a while to even remember. I’ll have to call you back when I think of something. I’m wearing red socks right now [laughs], I don’t know if that’s interesting. Lastly, this is kind of a silly question that I like to ask people I interview, which Harrison Ford do you prefer, Indiana Jones or Han Solo? [laughs] Probably Han Solo. Because I remember being so very young and seeing Star Wars in a movie theater, and that’s just the original to me.
OR RADIO, FOR THAT MATTER In my last column, I suggested various forms of entertainment that you can find and engage in for free. Notably, I neglected radio, movies, or television as forms of entertainment. They are a straight-forward set of products, but thinking about them in new ways can lessen the financial impact of their seemingly irresistible draw.
two products/services were created in the opposite order—would we accept a new form of television that we have to pay to subscribe to, but still accept commercials? I doubt it. Or better yet—why shouldn’t the advertisers pay you to watch the show or listen to the radio? They are invading your time and seeking your attention. We might grant that.
I’ve never paid to listen to the radio, because someone else already did. For commercial radio, that’s the advertisers who pay the station to play their ads in-between songs and other songs. For non-profit radio (like our locally beloved KZFR and NSPR), awesome shows like Car Talk (RIP Tom) are paid for by grants, government funding, and listeners like you. (If you have donated to your local non-profit radio, there’s no shame in it. I’m just writing about money choices—for some people, that’s a worthy cause worth paying for.)
There are a number of products and services that are attempting to eliminate the commercials from television and cable, or offer alternatives to them. Your local library rents out books, audiobooks, movies, and CDs for free, and they’re always getting new stuff. DVRs aim to help people skip through commercials, and streaming sites like Netflix and Amazon Prime avoid commercials via asking you to pay for a subscription. Youtube videos are free, and you can install an adblocker. Podcasts and internet radio are often free, too, but again rely on commercials or a subscription. With a plethora of options, I cannot understand the willingness to pay forty to seventy dollars per month to watch television with commercials. Between the library and the internet, I have enough free entertainment in my home that I will never pay for television.
Given that radio has been free in my entire life’s experience, I have consistently laughed at the recently created product/service “radio that you pay for the privilege of listening to.” The plan was essentially—customers will pay to not listen to ads. Those clever businesstypes were right; there are over 24 million subscribers who will pay to not listen to ads. (I just haven’t met any of them.) But contrast radio with its sister entertainment, television. I know tons of people who pay to watch television, even with commercials. Why does paying for commercial-less radio shock me, but paying for commercial-full television not? Cultural inertia—the mere fact that cable TV has existed for a long time normalizes its existence. Imagine if the
This week’s assignment: Visit the library, get a library card if you don’t have one, and borrow something—a book, graphic novel, audiobook, CD, or movie. (I hear they even have digital rentals, though I’m not currently up to speed on how that works.)
The Frugal Terran by TripHazard
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The State of the Commons, Part 1 Free Culture by Alex O’Brien amateurzen.us
This week, I’ll attempt to tame the wilds of the interwebs just enough to categorize and credit some of its most noteworthy hubs of Creative Commons licensed music (CC Music or #ccmusic, if you speak hashtag). If you are an independent artist, producer, or creator of any sort, and you’ve contemplated sharing the fruits of your labor with the general public under some permissive licensing structure, I would like to turn you on to a number of popular tools with which you can distribute/ market/monetize your content. There are many other healthy bipeds involved. Some, such as Lawrence Lessig, Amanda Palmer, and Cory Doctorow, have achieved some level of notoriety. Many are just playing. I presume that many of those who don’t consider themselves creators—look out, the path from fandom to creative compulsion is short—will find these repositories of content useful as well.
and it was time I had my own copy).
Jamendo [jamendo.com]
I’ll continue on this topic in my next few columns. Next week I’ll focus on the more collaboration-centric site, CCMixter, and other places on the web to find libre and gratis audio that doesn’t fit the definition of music. Part three will consist of a survey of open culture movements and their discrepant, delineating principles. Part four will be a netlabel avalanche. Additionally, I’ll fill some white space in that one with shout-outs to some of the moving human parts of this globe that inspired, motivated, and tutored my early education in open culture citizenry.
Jamendo hosts CC music exclusively. This, and the fact that all their downloads include a “license.txt” for clarity, are its major upsides. All are free to upload/download material to/ from Jamendo, and to post comments and reviews. Their site-wide search is simple and powerful. The slippery downside is that they have zilch for curation. I’m seldom inclined to brandish objective judgements of art, but I’m not hesitant in this circumstance to warn you that one can find unpleasantly inaccessible music at Jamendo. My latest finds at Jamendo include The James Quintet, Angus, and The Good Lawdz, Circa Vitae (whom I was tipped off to by the CCHits Daily Exposure podcast), and “I’ll Be Right Behind You Josephine,” an old track by Jamendo staple Josh Woodward (‘cause it’s a favorite among our #OO Stream community 20
SYNTHESISWEEKLY.COM NOVEMBER 10 2014
Bandcamp [bandcamp.com] Bandcamp is another outstanding website that serves much the same role as Jamendo. In contrast, Bandcamp does allow creators to publish works under the standard copyright model. But what’s more conducive to open culture is that they present clear license options to them, too. They also differ from Jamendo in the types of files they support being packaged with releases (like highquality FLAC audio files and .pdf liner notes). Lastly, Bandcamp will facilitate payments. I see an equal proportion of artists and groups using flat-rate pricing as I do using the “pay what you want” model. I, for one, am convinced that PWYW is a golden road to the future of independent media, and all the cool kids claim that it yields more chedda’.
An innumerable number of Earthlings, matted like mycelial communities, use and give back to these commons regularly (precisely the sort of collaborative creativity the tubes were imagining as they dreamed themselves into existence as an ARPANET transmission from UCLA to Stanford). We would love it if you stopped by.
by logan kruidenier logankruidenier.tumblr.com
NOVEMBER 10 – BY KOZ MCKEV Aries
Taurus
Gemini
Cancer
Leo
Virgo
The week begins with an explosive Mars/Pluto conjunction on your midheaven. Things change radically for you when it comes to career and public image. Issues involving parents and home life could change at the same time. Late Wednesday morning through Friday night you get a creative boost. The weekend looks good for organization and taking care of business. Keep serious decisions in a light hearted context. Your own version of your spiritual life begins to make sense as Neptune goes direct Saturday night.
This time of year is all about creativity, romance and making alliances. Of course there are your open enemies as well. You can’t please all the people all the time. Pay attention to your social contacts early in the week. Family issues become a priority Wednesday through Friday. The weekend looks great for love as well as for doing some of your best creative works. Take some risks and push some boundaries. Nothing can stay the same forever. Use this knowledge to make wise decisions, and to appreciate the good that is with you.
Health is real wealth. Take time out to take better care of yourself. This is a good time to make good karma by engaging in charitable works. Personal values are part of your focus early in the week. Eventually you’ll be doing the usual gathering of information. Try not to exaggerate when sharing your knowledge. Venus enters your seventh house late Sunday morning, ushering more opportunities to be a better lover. Learn to love what you do and to do what you love. Make it a stay at home weekend and enjoy your family time.
Good things come to you this week. You begin with an emotionally deep and secure Cancer moon. You are able to feel both adventurous and generous. If you have children they will be a part of your focus. Financial improvement is likely to come by the end of the week. The weekend will be good for hanging out with close friends and siblings. Be cautious and sensitive to danger as not everyone out there has your best interest. Overall you’re in for a joyful time of play, love, and creative expression. Enjoy smiling more often.
May your cup be full and your life be sweet. Seek out the members of your tribe who you consider to be wise. The first couple of days of the week it’s best to lay low and deal with personal karma. By Wednesday you’ll be feeling more chipper as the moon goes into Leo and stays there till late Friday night. Be open to grace when tough situations come up. Be thankful for whatever your parents did right. Tune in to deep memories. The weekend looks good for music, food, making money and helping your family with their friends.
This has been a time of deep learning for you; the beginning of entering into a deeper wisdom. Your communication skills are spot on. The first couple of days of the week are good for your social life. Go to a party if you can get away with it. Mars and Pluto conjoin Monday afternoon giving your creative life and love life a facelift. Otherwise, if you have children they could go through some major changes on Monday and Tuesday. The moon goes into Virgo late Friday night giving you the whole weekend to explore possibilities.
Libra
Scorpio
Sagittarius
Capricorn
Aquarius
Pisces
Your best abilities will be viewed and applauded once again. Keep on cultivating the best of your talents and skills. On Monday and Tuesday, say your prayers and move with grace. You can somehow make good karma during this period. You do your best diplomatic work Wednesday through Friday. There may even be an element of romance involved. The weekend is good for paying debts, getting help, getting into debt, or being transformed and experiencing life as a miracle. Be careful about blind spots and unfinished business.
Take your time and be aware of all the sights, smells, sounds, touches and tastes. You are in a place of good fortune and high spiritual insights. Monday and Tuesday could inspire creative bliss with a grand trine in water signs. Wednesday through Friday you find yourself working hard to help others. The weekend could be perfect for a romantic getaway. Neptune goes direct Saturday at 11:06pm PST. Get ready to manifest the dreams that have been held back since June of this year. The wind is in your sails and you are about to be going places.
Make more with what you already have. Play more music, sing more songs. In some ways you’ll begin to see many of your personal values being affirmed. Decisions at work of a serious nature are likely to take place at the beginning of the week. Luxury items continue to tempt you. Helpful friends could show up anytime between Wednesday and Friday. Keep in mind your original intentions. When you draw a line be careful not to box yourself in. Venus moves into your third house on Sunday, making hobbies and art more fun.
Happy Birthday and may all your happiest wishes come true. With that said, Monday looks like it has everything to do with communication, education, travel, and a regional breakthrough of some sort. Pluto and Mars conjoin in your third house of siblings, communication, education, and the environment. We may discover a new way to be more mobile. The workload will be piling up Wednesday through Friday. The weekend looks like a good time to hang out with friends, party and make plans for the future.
This is a time for you to make adjustments and to seek a way to remedy mishaps that may have happened along the way. Making good karma should be your motto. Avoid the things that you consciously know will lead to your own undoing. Late Wednesday morning through Friday night the moon will be in your ninth house along with Jupiter. Good fortune is coming your way. You’ll be in the public eye more over the weekend. Use your best tools. Bust out your gifts. You may need to be like Gumby and fit into any shape.
Take a deep breath. Mars and Pluto conjoin in your first house on Monday. This is a very Scorpionic conjunction, during a very Scorpionic time when Saturn is in Scorpio and Mars and Pluto are visiting Capricorn. Patience, lust, calculating, deceit, envy, courage, and strength are just a few of the characteristics. There is also an intuitive x-ray vision that comes with Pluto. If people call you out, welcome it. Do your best to be a real friend and drive out the evil in your own personal life before reacting to any accusations. The weekend looks great!
Koz McKev is on YouTube, on cable 11 BCTV and is heard on 90.1FM KZFR Chico. Also available by appointment for personal horoscopes call (530)891-5147 or e-mail kozmickev@sunset.net
GREAT SHORT STORIES
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“Why be a snake?” The scaly coils pulled in, an inquisitive glance outward, then eyes upward in thought. The tail lifted to touch the chin, thinking, thinking. “I guess,” it said finally, “because I love it. I love eating things… Digesting things through a tube that’s my body. Plus, it’s sexy to be a snake.” The lion shook its mane. He had been about to eat a snake this afternoon, but then it had begun talking to him, philosophizing, expressing deep thought at the mouth of death, finally asking the bigger, deeper questions of what lay behind its slithery-snake nature. The lion felt compelled to give it its chance to survive. Would it survive? The lion’s stomach rumbled, said, “Most likely not.” The lion’s eyes showed deep pools of burnished gold, the forehead was crinkled, the whiskers were sloping down with the down-turned mouth… Now, deep thought was occurring in both these animals. “I could wait to eat you until we get to my den, instead of doing it out here, if it’d give you time to talk things out?” Mercy was new to the lion, and so he settled for a sort of forced politeness. The words shocked the snake, it remembered
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The sun hung low on the horizon as the snake swung from the lion’s jaws, held so firm as to be trapped, held so gently that it was able to ride uninjured. Seeing that it was still safe and whole (at least until they arrived at the lion’s den), the snake’s contemplative monologue continued. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see the day’s sunset in such a state as this! My head dangling upside down from a cat’s mouth, whose saliva is ruining the finish on all my scales. Honestly, how do I keep getting in these situations? And why don’t I feel in the least bit frightened? And you, lion,” it turned its hanging head to address him, “why is it that I’m still alive?” The lion’s mouth was full, so he said nothing. But he did think to himself how strange it was that he’d gone through his whole life never knowing snakes could talk.
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