Issue 4 Spring 2023

OBERLIN’S ALTERNATIVE STUDENT NEWSPAPER

ISSUE FOUR COVER ART

Front Cover: Brian Do

Back Cover: Saffron Forsberg

Saffron Forsberg and Teagan Hughes Co-Editors-in-Chief

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

Fionna Farrell Opinions Editor

Hi reader!

Raghav Raj Arts and Culture Editor

Isabel Hardwig Bad Habits Editor

Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Maia Hadler Art Director

Writers

Can you believe it’s once again short-sleeves weather? Cold-brew weather? Languishing-on WilderBowl-like-a-well-loved-housecat weather? Frankly, I can’t! Maybe it’s just because I’m graduating, but this semester seems to be happening at warp-speed. Soon, Ole Teagan and I will bid y’all adieu. We’ll pass the torch to a couple other ambitious Grape-lovers who only sort-of have any idea what they’re doing, as tradition dictates. Gahh! It’s #snrszn all over again, I fear. And while I’m certainly ready to graduate and head on to bigger places and things, I gotta say; I’m really going to miss The Grape. I’ve been teaching myself how to keep this shrieking Grape-baby alive since last summer and now what….I just gotta pass her off to somebody else? Trust that they’ll be as much of a geek about this Thing as I am? It’s the great tragedy of every undergrad student org. For, I feel like I came of age in The Grape, as cheesy as that may sound…The Grape saw me at eighteen and it sees me now, in my very-early-twenties, wandering dopily through that first cusp of adulthood. It’s probably been the most stable touchstone of my Oberlin experience. How strange to just let it go on without me! The thing is, though, that’s why student newspapers exist; they exist to carry generations of faltering voices and those geeks who let them be known. The Grape will allow so many other young writers to find their footing here, as they, like me, try on voices and selves between welcoming newsprint pages. I am but a mere chapter of The Grape’s adorable student-journalism legacy…and I choose to regard that as a pretty special thing.

- Saffron

Skye Jalal, Zach Terrillion, Ellen Efstathiou, Ollie Axelrod, and Max Miller Staff

Frances McDowell and Molly Chapin Production Assistants

Right-Wing Misinformation Threatens Transgender and Non-binary Obies and Ohioans

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

Right-wing propaganda regarding the transgender community indicates a horrifying trend that endangers all LGBTQ+ people in America. This has been further exacerbated by the recent Nashville shooting committed by a transgender woman, and conservatives’ allegations towards trans people of child grooming and pedophilia.

Oberlin students are especially vulnerable in this climate given the College’s political reputation and large population of trans and non-binary students. One of these people is my partner, third-year Makayla Riggins, who has seen the impact of transphobia and misinformation frsthand as a longtime resident of Oberlin (and currently Elyria).

Riggins is generally saddened that this country is going back on trans issues despite being unsure of policies and laws in individual states. “The general vibe of all of them is to go against trans people for no reason,” Riggins mentioned.

Editor

Riggins is also a casual bystander on the conservative app, IFunny, and had words about their adamant hatred of trans people. “On IFunny there’s been a lot of general trans hate, saying that they’re stopping the evil trans people from indoctrinating their children,” Riggins claimed.

Riggins also mentioned IFunny’s celebration of the recent Nashville shooter’s trans identity, since it promotes their horrid agenda. According to Riggins, the app generally features “A lot of people saying being trans is a mental illness.”

Beaux Watwood, a fourth-year and Studio Art major, is another Obie that has been particularly worried about the future of gender-afrming care and life outside of the gender binary.

“I’m concerned that a lack of healthcare for trans youth will lead to a higher rate of suicide for queer children and teens,” says Watwood.

Watwood also wishes to be a role model to young queer children and an

example that trans people can have fulflling lives even in the face of hatred. “I live for the moments when trans and queer kids and teens see me and feel validated by my visible queerness.”

Although circumstances seem dismal, Watwood does not intend to cease their transition or change their lifestyle. “Any anti-trans laws passed in any state I lived in would only emphasize to me how important it is to be loudly joyful in my trans existence—to let kids like me know that there is love and acceptance for them out there as their full selves.”

One more person on campus impacted by the increasing transphobia throughout America is Benny VanDerburgh (he/they), the Assistant Director of Religious and Spiritual Life in the Offce of Spirituality and Dialogue. They were hired recently in February, and are one of many staf members at Oberlin tasked with supporting the spiritual and religious queries of students, along with other needs.

VanDerburgh was born in Maine, but they noted that Ohio was “one of the most threatening spaces they’ve ever lived in” by email. They have had demeaning and discriminatory experiences with the healthcare system here too.

“I am happy to (and do) work with students to help them fnd the appropriate homes, archives, and sites that can cultivate more cosmological belonging,” said VanDerburgh.

VanDerburgh has also been working on a number of other projects to support trans individuals on-campus. This includes his progress in making a group for trans students to meet regarding spiritual and religious care. He even has guides to provide trans, questioning, or trans-allied students who would like to reference material that afrms their dignity within a religious, practical, and

academic discipline.

Furthermore, VanDerburgh has had a number of concerns with the rising transphobia locally and nationwide besides their safety. This included topics from the safety of trans youth to what VanDerburgh described as “the coercive force against the lands and waters many of us are settlers or descendants of settlers on.”

“I think my call to elected ofcials would be to humble themselves, and then humble themselves a thousand times more, and then act in accordance with the real and regular truth,” said VanDerburgh.

Given his work in ministry, VanDerburgh tries not to hold ill-will towards those promoting transphobia and passing laws that threaten their livelihood. As they put it in email, they are “called to be a witness to the goodness of life even amidst threats, traumas, and violence.”

“The truth is there are so many issues that need to be acted on quickly, and that fguring out how to encumber and humiliate trans people and their families is not one of them” mentioned VanDerburgh.

Even in the face of discrimination, VanDerburgh is determined to help trans students on campus. “If you are trans and at Oberlin, know that student life is entrusted to afrm your individual, particular humanity. If you need someone to talk to, email me and I’ll make the time, connect you to resources, try to help lower the stakes of whatever is up.”

The world may continue to move in this direction of bigotry for LGBTQ+ individuals, but even so, trans and nonbinary Oberlin students and faculty will not be stopped from identifying however they please.

Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout

AI in Music: Friend or Foe?

Shaye Frenkel Contributor

“AI is revolutionary in the scariest way possible.”

Students in the TIMARA (Technology in Music and Related Arts) program at the Oberlin Conservatory are divided on the issue of artifcial intelligence in music. This major has historically been known for quickly embracing new and exciting technology, but they are unsure whether AI has gone too far.

“It’s harming artists,” Phillip Chao, a second-year student in the major, remarks. “AI [takes] in images from human artists, without their knowledge or consent, and uses that to ‘learn’ and generate images.” AI needs a model on which to base its algorithm, which opens up the possibility of stealing work from actual artists in order to train it. To him, the technology “could be cool, if it weren’t being used to exploit for the purpose of proft,” which highlights one of the main critiques artists have of AI: its exploitative practices under capitalism. He hopes “that if it were a tool people chose to use, it wouldn’t be to exploit musicians or do wrongs.”

“AI could be implemented in VSTs [Virtual Studio Technology] and music software,” Chao says; or “perhaps used to automate pitch correction.” In its current form, the technology is ripe for misuse. It further complicates the world of copyright as well. Court battles over the rights to music can already be “very messy and prolonged,” and the inclusion of an artifcial element may make things even more complicated.

“AI can be problematic,” said Kayla Shomar-Corbett, another second year TIMARA major. Still, she acknowledges that it already has a place in music creation. She uses it to make remixes, by separating vocals from master tracks and retooling them for her own purposes and has even embraced AI to assist her in writing emails and doing other common tasks.

“There are literal AI popstars, not just vocaloids and synths, but computer-generated musicians,”said Shomar-Corbett when asked about how AI might ft into the music industry. These are nothing new, despite recent fears about them. To Shomar-Corbett, AI is already everywhere and it’s here to stay. “AI is changing art,” according to her, but this shouldn’t be taken as inherently negative. There will always be a “certain aspect of human consciousness” that computers can’t replicate.

“Although entertaining, [the art created by AI] doesn’t really say much most of the time.” This is the fundamental faw that Shomar-Corbett sees in AI as a tool for creative expression. It can’t do all the work itself. With this in mind, the fears of replacement that many musicians and artists feel may not be anything to worry about yet. They still have an important place even in a world where AI is integrated into their work.

Artifcial Intelligence could potentially do a lot of good for artists in the future, but right now it has brought up several issues in the realm of copyright. Drawing back to the idea of AI being used to replicate an artist’s voice, a Twitter user named Roberto Nickson utilized an AI algorithm, trained to replicate hip hop artists like Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West, and made his own versions of songs in their unique styles. He recorded a verse with his voice and overlaid the AI to replace it with the artifcially rendered version of the artist, creating an uncanny resemblance to their work. While the fnished product is rudimentary and imperfect, the mere fact that it

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

bears a striking similarity to something Kanye West could actually make is terrifying.

Technology like deepfakes, which have been used in flm and TV to reconstruct an actor’s face and deage them, have been around for a few years at this point. They are mostly embraced by creatives as a necessary tool in their work, so one may wonder if the musical equivalent will face a similar fate. Notably, the full negative repercussions of deepfakes and how they may contribute to the circulation of fake news and misleading footage have not been explored in detail yet.

Creatives and musicians alike are divided on the place AI may have in the future of art. Some think that the current power it holds may be too much to reasonably entrust someone with, especially considering how exploitative it has been in the past under capitalism. However, others are cautiously optimistic at how AI may bring new advancements to creative outlets and expand the potential of artists everywhere. The only way to reach a conclusion currently is to wait and see.

A Discovery of Insights: Best-Selling Author Deborah Harkness Speaks at Oberlin

Zach Terrillion Staff Writer

Hallock Auditorium was abuzz as a renowned historian, a blockbusting TV producer, and a NY Times bestselling author came to speak. These were not three separate individuals but instead Deborah Harkness, a Renaissance woman ready to give a scholarly lecture on the Renaissance period. The event was organized by Professor Danielle Skeehan, chair of the English department, and English student representatives. It was part of the department’s ongoing Bongiorno Lecture series, and part of its push to invite more speakers that cater to the community at large.

A graduate of Mount Holyoke, Harkness is a scholar specializing in scientific and medical history, writing multiple volumes on the fascinating works of the Renaissance, including alchemy and bits of the occult. In 2011, after working in academia, Harkness decid -

ed to write her first novel, “A Discovery of Witches.” The historical fantasy is all about Harkness’ line of work, following a historian who is secretly a powerful witch that denies her powers. She eventually finds a magical manuscript in her libraries and sets off on escapades featuring vampires, demons, and more, traveling back into Renaissance England. This first book was a hit, becoming the first entry in her “All Souls” trilogy. In 2018, it was produced as a big-budget TV series by Sky One in the UK.

According to English department representative Josie Rosman, Harkness was chosen to visit because her books feature a historian’s point of view. “It is an interesting way of looking and talking about history in a way you usually don’t get in a fantasy novel. It is an interesting way of looking at fantasy in a way you usually don’t

get in historical fiction.”

Harkness first came up to the podium beaming with energy as the lecture hall erupted with applause. The excitement partially came from that while many knew the guest, it was unclear what topic she’d discuss. She first praised the power of a liberal arts education, thanking it for her ability to transition from a historian to a novelist. “It told me that I could do anything. I could cross interdisciplinary boundaries and defy expectations,” She declared. What are you going to do with a liberal arts degree? According to Harkness, “Whatever you want.”

She next dived into her lecture, talking about the Renaissance concept of “memory palaces,” where one could store information. It is an internal, human equivalent of an iPhone; something made to store knowledge and understanding of the world. Renaissance thinkers envisioned two different types of images that could be stored in these mind palaces. The ideas of realism vs. the imagination. Harkness connected these two ideas to her own work, specifically how it is adapted. “Should a historical novel follow realistic or fantastic ideals?”

“Should there be poetic license or verisimilitude in works?

Apparently, this centuries-old debate of imagination vs. realism is pretty relevant to modern consumers. Harkness transitioned from images of long-dead philosophers to Google search results for her favorite shows. Many fans of historical IPs, whether “Bridgerton” or “The Crown,” apparently care a lot about historical accuracy. One audience member shouted out when she mentioned “The Crown.”

“I love it too,” she responded. It was fascinating that classical philosophical concepts of the real vs. imaginary still have relevance outside of academia and in the void of pop culture.

Harkness later talked about some of her scholarly interests after graduating college. She was drawn to folks who were both realistic and fantastical. Individuals who did not conform to the boxes of their era. She wanted to center “the margins of the Renaissance.” The neglected. The easily dismissed. She discussed Queen

Elizabeth I, not one’s first idea of an outcast. However, she specifically researched the 16th-century monarch’s nerdiness. How she would lie in her nightgown translating classical texts as advisors tried to drag her out to meetings. She also brought up mathematician John Dee. She did not focus on his main theories, but rather on the little marks and annotations he left on the edges of his manuscripts. These margins revealed he was an even bigger eccentric than Elizabeth. Dee also produced plays and claimed to talk to angels through a crystal ball. Harkness generally loves to follow these margins and breadcrumbs and write scholarly books on them.

Ideas for her third book came at a strange cultural moment. She was researching Charles Darwin, arguing that his theories show that diversity is valuable, even essential, to human civilization. However, this argument for human diversity came alongside the passage of California’s Proposition 8, which prohibited same-sex marriage in the state. This was upsetting to her as a Queer woman. She was arguing for diversity while politicians were trying to take it away. Harkness was also inspired at that point by the phenomenon of “Twilight” and pop culture’s new obsession over the magical, occult topics she had been studying for so long. Darwin. Samesex marriage bans. Sexy vampires. This unlikely trio formed a paradox for Harkness, but, in her own words, “It’s paradoxes where we get our best ideas.”

From said paradox, “A Discovery of Witches” was born. She wanted to take her academic interests and make them apply on a wide, cultural scale. Harkness wanted to see how much historical knowledge she could put into a text while it still entertains a reader. “I was being a historian when I wrote this book.” Her historical background continued to kick in as an executive producer for the TV adaptation.

She concluded her presentation with a deep dive into the show’s production process, showcasing images of massive sets bringing Renaissance London to life. Harkness discussed the effort made to cast actors that reflect the backgrounds of the char -

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

acters and historical figures they portray, such as having a partially deaf actor play Henry Percy, an ally of Walter Raleigh and Christopher Marlowe with the same trait.

In general, diversity was an overarching theme for this event. Harkness acknowledged the whitewashing often dealt to historical periods like the Renaissance, even calling herself out by posting comments from individuals who critique her series for its limited racial representation. “We in the creative community need to do better and do more,” She said. “The key question is, how do we do it?” To her, reimagining the Renaissance through fiction is a vital project. To her, “Films and novels can go where the facts don’t go.”

The power of fiction in telling history plays out in Witch Lit Co, an exco studying fictional books centering around witches. It was founded by students Elena Rabin, Josie Rosman, and Elsa Friedmann to provide context for this big event. They wanted to ensure people were reading the books being discussed. Besides Harkness, they meet once a week to discuss diverse witchy texts like Tracy Deonn’s “Legendborn,” Mona Awad’s “Bunny,” and Leigh Bardugo’s “Ninth House.” “We’ve been having such interesting conversations about fiction, genre, women, and sexuality!” according to Rosman. The space creates an incubator to discuss history by considering marginalized identities

and themes, much like Harkness envisioned in her talk.

They all see it as a way to spotlight genre fiction in an academic setting. For Rabin, “The class has been so rewarding because it’s easy in an academic English department to lose track of the reason why people study English literature. Most of the things literature fans read are not taught in the canon. They’re usually reading historical or science fiction.” Friedmann states, “Historical fiction and Romance novels are the backbones of publishing houses. They’re two of the least valued genres, but it’s what most people read.”

Overall, there seemed to be a major populist approach to Harkness’ talk, inspiring Oberlin students like those in Witch Lit Co to study literature in more unconventional ways. During the event’s Q&A, a discussion occurred connecting the act of writing to magic. It is a form of creation in itself. Writers are casting a spell and making something appear. In this case, what appears is a text that puts a new spin on history by centering marginalized narratives. Harkness argued that there is an audience for the humanities on a large global scale. Literature and history are very much relevant. Echoing this sentiment, the author and historian concluded her lecture by saying, “The humanities are not dead. They’re not even napping.”

A Message from SLAC—Effective Organization Necessitates Intentionality & Discretion

Student Labor Action Coalition

Contributor

Last month, the Oberlin Review article “Effective Organization Necessitates Call to Action” called the effectiveness of our recent report and exhibit, “It’s All About the Dollar” about the 2020 mass layoff of Oberlin dining service workers and custodians into question. The project’s primary goal was to educate the community on the effects of the layoff, and the harmful practices of the Board of Trustees and administration. The exhibit consisted of hours of audio from the fired workers, creating the space they deserved to tell their stories in their own words. It also included archived publications from the layoff period, and reports of Oberlin’s history of financialization and cost-cutting across several decades.

The Review article claimed that “On its own, the pamphlet serves the sole purpose of being informative, but overall fails to truly engage its audience.” Our goal wasn’t to repackage and exploit the lived experiences of respected community members in the interest of garnering your support—it was

to educate and commemorate. The project was intended to establish institutional memory of the layoff, so that we may never forget that the College prioritizes profits over people. The effort to place such a critical and expository exhibit in the middle of Mudd (a central place on campus) was a feat that took months of preparation. While the article criticizes the exhibit for not providing “information on what steps students can take,” we were not allowed to make overt political statements in our exhibit description because of the institution-sponsored aspect of the project. Furthermore, we encourage critics of the campaign’s lack of action to join us at our weekly SLAC meetings so we can create engagement opportunities together.

Organizing is always a collective and collaborative effort, and effective power building will only come from enthusiastic relationships of mutual respect and learning. “It’s All About the Dollar” is indeed “part of something bigger,” but it wasn’t the

time or place to launch a full-scale campaign. That’s why SLAC, along with Students for Energy Justice and other incredible community and student organizations, are working to foster a culture of organizing. Doing so effectively requires sustained commitment, and we envision a future where our community can uplift one another in our efforts to advocate for the conditions and opportunities we deserve. We hope to build a cooperative space that would bring students and townspeople together to prioritize affordable food and housing, activist organizing, and community outside the purview of the College. We’ve entered the planning stages for this endeavor, and as ambitious as it is, we are grounded in Oberlin’s rich history of cooperation.

SLAC meets every Monday and Thursday, and all are welcome to join us in working towards Oberlin’s cooperative and organizing-centered future.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

SOSHA will be holding Take Back the Night this Sunday, April 16th from 8-10pm in Tappan Square. This protest is for individuals who have survived sexual violence and their allies to reclaim the night. The event will include a speak-out, a march, and a celebration. The event starts at the Tappan Bandstand, and will have advocates present from the Nord Center. All members from the Oberlin community are encouraged to attend. We hope for this event to be a space to support sexual harm survivors and raise awareness about sexual violence.

Survivors of Sexual Harm and Allies (SOSHA) is a community organization that provides spaces for support, activism, and education for people who have survived sexual violence and their allies. SOSHA is run by Oberlin students and holds spaces for listening sessions, social events and protests.

Music and Memory: Sitting Down With Hailu Mergia

Raghav Raj Arts & Culture Editor

There’s something so spectacular, so sacred, so sublime in watching the great Hailu Mergia work his hands around the keys. The legendary Ethiopian composer, bandleader, and multi-instrumentalist speaks gently, and he moves with all the patience you’d expect from a 77-year-old. Whether he’s playing the organ, accordion, or his melodica, he breathes beautiful life into his instrument, imbuing every crevice with warm streams of light, locking into the grooves of his backing band, sending brilliant little filigrees into the stratosphere as his fingers glide along the keyboards.

Mergia’s story is a long, fascinating one, and it’s worth repeating: in the 1970’s, as the moonlight years of Haile Selassie’s constitutional monarchy gave way to a coup and subsequent military dictatorship rule under the Derg, he was a fixture of the famed Walias Band, which built its reputation playing shows in Addis and had grown into arguably the most popular band in the country. In 1981, the Walias Band went on tour in the United States; instead of returning to the dictatorship in Ethiopia, Mergia stayed with three other bandmates in the US, formed a new group called the Zula Band, and studied music at Howard University before stepping away from performing in 1991.

In the years afterwards, Mergia opened a restaurant with friends in the Ethiopian community in DC, reconnected with an old lover from Ethiopia — his now-wife, who answered the phone when I called him — and later bought a taxi cab, which he drove for over two decades. In 2013, Mergia got a phone call from Awesome Tapes From Africa founder and label head Brian Shimkovitz, who had stumbled upon a cassette that Mergia had recorded with the accordion while studying music at Howard in 1985 called Hailu Mergia & His Classical Instrument: Shemonmuanaye. He wanted to reissue it with Mergia’s permission, and asked if Mergia was interested in playing music again. Mergia said yes, and the rest was history.

The resurgence of his musical career is something that Mergia views with deep, profound gratitude.

It was crystal-clear during that blissful Saturday night performance in Oberlin’s Dionysus Disco, as a packed crowd of students, locals, and community members from the greater Cleveland area huddled together to escape the cold and experience the man’s music, Mergia beaming with genuine delight as every song was punctuated with raucous, adoring applause. With his frequent collaborators in tow (Kenneth Joseph on the drums, Alemseged Kebede on bass), Mergia played an invigorating set that spanned the breadth of his discography, drawing from early works like the title track of his fan-favorite 1978 record with the Dahlak band, Wede Harer Guzo (which spurred the crowd into a joyous singalong), as well as late-career highlights from 2018’s Lalu Bela and Yene Mircha, an album that dropped right as the pandemic arrived in March 2020. A couple days before the show, I had the privilege of sitting down with Mergia over the phone to discuss performing during Ethiopia’s military dictatorship, finding a home in America, the music that inspires him, and more.

The following interview has been edited for clarity and length.

You got your start in the Walias Band, which was the biggest band in Ethiopia during those ‘Swinging Addis’ years. What was the nightlife like back then?

It was nice! We had a good time. Every time we had a show, we really enjoyed playing music for the hotel. We were actually playing in different places, the Walias Band, until finally we stayed in the Hilton Hotel for a long time. We always enjoyed playing music, and like any other life, we were having fun.

Whenever we played, we always had a nice crowd. People were coming there to enjoy the music, just like the normal nightlife in other places. We didn’t really have special things, but we were just doing our job, and people really enjoyed it.

During this time, you worked with Mulatu Astatke — what was that experience like?

Honestly, I didn’t really play in the band with Mulatu. He was my friend. He used to come and we used to meet every now and then, and we just did some recordings in general. He was not playing with Walias Band, but we had a good time! We love each other, and we still are in contact even now.

In 1974, the revolution happened in Ethiopia, and the Derg took over. What was that experience like, both in your music and in your life, when all those things suddenly changed?

Well, because we used to play in the Hilton Hotel, we were playing the same kind of music that we used to play before the revolution. It didn’t make that much difference to us, and we still kept playing the latest music because most of our crowd in the Hilton was tourists and diplomats. People came from different countries, and they wanted to listen to Ethiopian music, as well as different kinds of music, so we were always playing standards, blues, soul music, and jazz. Because of that, as I saw it, I didn’t really see that much of a difference, because we were always doing different kinds of music and people were always coming to listen.

Of course, when you have a revolution, there is some kind of life standard that has changed in the country, I know that. By 12 o’clock, everything had to be closed, and everything was going to be changed. But in the music business, we didn’t really have that many changes. We were just doing what we were supposed to do. Life is different, of course, but we have to do what we have to do.

I saw a video with your song “Anchin Kfu Ayinkash” that said in Ethiopia, during the military dictatorship, if you had words in your music they had to praise the government. The video suggested that your music was instrumental in an act of protest. Is that true?

That music came in 1975. When we made that song with Dahlak Band, we were collecting music

from different singers we had heard on the streets. By chance, I just picked up that melody from some singer, and then we did what we did with the song, which is how that happened. So there is no special thing about that song that I know of, but it’s just that people love that song.

I definitely do, and that album you recorded with Dahlak Band is one of my all-time favorites. Can you explain how it came to be, what those recording sessions were like?

For Wede Harer Guzo, I was planning to play with Dahlak Band instead of Walias Band because they were too busy for recording. And, at the same time, I just wanted to have different sounds. So because of that, I started organizing the band to play this music, and we had a different sound, the mix was different, everything was different. I was just trying my best to do something with new sounds.

I read in the liner notes of Wede Harer Guzo about how you took a lot of inspiration from azmaris, these musicians playing traditional instruments in the Ethiopian highlands. Could you expound on those influences?

Well, you know, most of the time I used to hang out at local places, not the clubs or something like that, just local places where Azmaris would play. I could listen to good music because everybody was playing their songs. Everybody had a different kind of sampling, and they always had a lot of new songs. Usually, I’d go out after the bars closed, and just listen to different kinds of music. Back then, I just wanted to have fun and enjoy the music they were playing.

What sort of music do you enjoy listening to?

In the early days, I used to listen to jazz, the big-band era. Sometimes I would listen to blues songs. Practically I just need to have different kinds of music. So from all that, most of the time I stay listening to jazz music. I am still a fan of the big-band era, and I certainly still listen to that kind of music now. I love the old songs, and that makes me happy when I listen to that music.

Were you ever familiar with the work of Emahoy Tsegue-Maryam Guebrow?

Yeah, I know about her, but I don’t know much about her. I met her one time, a long time ago, in Washington DC. I don’t know much about her, but

the only thing I know is I loved the music that she was playing. I always enjoyed listening to that kind of music. She was one of my favorite musicians.

How did you end up in Washington DC?

When I came to America, our sponsor was from Washington DC. He used to live there, and because he was sponsoring us, the whole Walias Band just came to Washington DC.

though now I live in Maryland. But you know, I used to work around different places in Washington DC, and I still really enjoy living with my people here.

I know you drove a taxi in DC for around two decades. What have you gained, if anything, from that experience?

Well, you know, the best part of driving taxis is that I used to have my own schedule. I don’t have a boss, and I don’t have to work for a company

and how you’d sometimes go into the backseat and practice with it. How has that connection to your music followed you throughout your life in America?

The connection between me and my music is simple. You see, I have a piano at my home. I still have it in my house, and I still practice it. When I was driving the taxi, when I used to work at Dulles Airport Taxi and I got a break, I just wanted to use my time to practice music instead of talking with friends or whatever. So I bought a keyboard, and I just wanted to keep myself busy, that’s the whole thing. It works good!

I wasn’t planning to do anything, but I just didn’t want to go out of business, and whenever I had time, I was keeping myself busy by playing the keyboard. That’s what I started doing, and when I came into this trio stuff, I was ready to play because I was practicing every day.

I want to talk about that experience, because in 2013, you were contacted by Brian Shimkovitz for the Awesome Tapes reissue of Shemonmuanaye that sort of began your musical revival. What was that experience like for you?

I don’t know how to start, but let me start this way. The special thing about that music is that it was a one man band. I did the whole thing by myself, and the story is this.

DC has a really significant Ethiopian population. Can you explain your relationship to that community?

Well, when I used to play in the Washington DC area, I was having places to go out for relaxation, to listen to music, and whatever. I used to play with my trio for four or five years or something like that, the Zula Band, and sometimes we’d play as a quartet or sometimes we’d play as a quintet. That’s how we used to do it.

I still love living in Washington DC. People are very nice, and I still love the people who live around here, even

because I was driving my own taxi. I could take a break any time I wanted to, usually I did it because I was going out for recording. The main part of driving the taxi is that I have my own schedule, and because of the schedule I loved it. I enjoyed it, because I was making money every day, and I never got broke. Whenever I felt like going out, I’d just go out and make money. Whenever I made money and I wanted to stop working, I’d just go home or do whatever I wanted to do.

I’ve seen videos about how you had your keyboard in the taxi,

When I used to play while touring with the Walias Band, when we came to America, somebody gave me an accordion and I just picked it up to try it. When I tried it, it worked good — and before that, it had been almost 30 years since I touched the accordion, even though it was my first instrument. After 30 years, I listened to and played the accordion, and people enjoyed it. But then we started touring with the Walias Band, and we couldn’t play too many songs because of the variety, so we just had fun playing maybe two or three songs.

So because of that, when the Zula Band ends up playing music, and I go to the studio, I just wanted to have an accordion part just for memories to put in my music. I just wanted to put it on because it’s a nostalgic type of music, and so I recorded the song on accordion. When I listen to the music, I love the way the song sounds, so it just started from there. Instead of one song or two songs, I wanted to have the whole cassette recorded, so I just recorded the whole thing by myself, like a one man band.

When we put it on the market, peo -

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

ple enjoyed listening to the music. The funny part is that, every time I listen to it, the sound is so great, and I’m never tired of it. I don’t know what I did, but I did a good job. *laughs*

When I talked to Brian after 30 years of playing that music, Brian liked it so much that he released it again after so many years. Since then, people seem to love that music. I still listen to that music, and it’s a good collection of what I did. That’s the whole story about it, there’s a lot of things going on there.

By the way, the keyboard and the Rhodes piano, I still have it at home. I still have the accordion. I still have those instruments with me too.

I want to go back to this one thing that you said, which was that it’s very nostalgic music. And that reminds me of this word that you titled an album after, Tezeta, which is Amharic for memory, nostalgia, longing, and also refers to this genre of Ethiopian music. What does that word evoke for you?

Well, “Tezeta” is the best composition that came to Ethiopia. I don’t know, somebody told me that some guy created the song, and he brought it from the countryside. Forgive me, I cannot tell you because maybe I was not born then.

There isn’t any kind of music, no new creation, in my mind, that comes after tezeta. Any kind of music you listen to, you still have a memory of that music. It’s a kind of well-organized music, simple to listen to and play. I mean, I love the composition by the way, it’s just I cannot tell you more than that. I wish I could tell you, but sometimes, I just don’t have a word for that. It’s very nice music, and I love it. I guess it’s really appropriate, then, that the very first song on your comeback album, 2018’s Lala Belu, is called “Tizita.” You recorded that album in a trio with Tony Buck and Mike Majkowski, and I wanted to ask: how did you get together with them to record it?

Well, when I came back to music, it was 20 years since I was out of the music business. I was practicing, but I was not recording, I wasn’t playing for a club or something like that. I don’t have any reason, but I was not playing in a club, but anyway — when I started playing music, Brian contacted me about this kind of project, and I said okay, you know, and worked on ideas. How I got in contact with them was through this group in Germany, be -

cause they used to live in Germany. We started having practice, sometimes I go there, sometimes they come here. In general, the whole thing was started with just those two guys, that’s how we started it. After we organized and after our show, we set up a recording, and the first recording was done in London. That’s how the album came together.

It’s a really beautiful record, and I think it’s especially interesting when held up against your most recent album, 2020’s Yene Mircha.

Of course, the recording started a little bit before the pandemic came, and the whole thing came in right on time. The whole idea was to have a new album, because it’s my second album after coming back, so we just decided to have a new album with a new idea, and we just did it. I don’t know how it sounds to you, but I love the music.

I love that album too. Something I noticed is that it’s really collaborative compared to the trio arrangement of Lala Belu; on the first song, “Semen Ena Bebub,” you’re going back and forth on accordion with this masenqo, a stringed single-bowed lute that’s very prominent in Ethiopian folk music. What was that like with all the people you were recording with? What were those sessions like?

Simply, it’s a kind of collision of my music. Every time I’m given a canvas, I just want to try to create some kind of new sound. That’s the whole idea. That’s why I put the masenqo and guitar and horn sections too. Sometimes, I just want to have a new kind of sound.

I want to ask: ever since the pandemic, have you started recording or planning out new music or anything like that? What have you spent your time doing?

After Yene Mircha? Well, I have something in my mind, but I haven’t started working. I just have in my mind what kind of music I’m going to do for next time. I didn’t start the project, but I have an idea on how I want to do things. Other than that, I don’t have anything in my hands.

During the pandemic, I was locked inside, I stayed home like everybody else. I don’t go out that much. Maybe sometimes I go to get groceries around here, but I didn’t go out that much from my area, because it was a rough time. Most of the time nowadays, I stay home, and of course, I practice my music.

Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd: Lana Del Rey, Humanized

Ollie Axelrod Staff Writer

by being the perfect object of sex and romance—illicitly youthful but tortured beyond her years, “trailer trash” with “a perfect ass”.

Del Rey’s new album, Did You Know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd., is just as much concerned with the setting of America as her earlier albums. However, Did You Know completely abandons the Lolita-esque outlandish tragedy that has defined Lana’s artistic reputation. Instead, Did You Know fully commits to the folksy middle Americana grounded in the poetic mundanity that has characterized her recent records, such as Blue Banisters and Chemtrails over the Country Club.

Throughout Did You Know, Rey calls upon American folk tradition, name dropping icons such as Harry Nillson and John Denver and emulating their genre in her simple, self-referential lyricism. She starts “Margaret” with

Gonna write it for a friend”. In “Sweet”, posed lover: “What you doin’ with your life? Do you think about it? / Do you

alism that Rey uses in her lyrics is a turning point from her early persona, which was cultivated to be emulatable, not relatable. The Born To Die-era Lana was untouchably sexy and untouchably tortured—a “fucking crazy” girl with a “war in [her] mind”. As intoxicating as the early character of Lana Del Rey is, it is only so because it is fleeting, relying on a youth and unsustainable lifestyle that Del Rey has outgrown. And Lana has been attempting to transcend the campy persona of her early work essentially since her career took off—the tonal shift of Did You Know is less a swift turn than it is an acme of acoustic experimentation that has been present since her 2019 album Norman Fucking Rockwell. However, Did You Know feels more fully realized than Blue Banisters or Chemtrails, creating an image of both America and Lana that directly contradicts much of

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

her early characterization. The seven-minute single “A&W” is an especially explicit deviance away from Lana’s aesthetic of tragic starcrossed romance. Her depiction of love and sex are no longer thrillingly illicit — instead, she’s sort of bored: “Called up one, called up another/Forensic Files wasn’t on”. She acknowledges her age, and how she no longer fits into the Lolita archetype, half-bitterly singing “Did You Know a singer can still be/ Looking like a side piece at 33?” This

all culminates in her genius chorus: “It’s not about having someone to love me anymore/This is the experience of being an American whore”. “A&W” isn’t sorrowful, it’s cynical—an emotion new to Lana’s previously earnestly melodramatic work. Alongside the interludes of speeches from pastors about the dangers of lust, an emotion that has defined Lana’s early work, there are times that the album feels almost like repentance.

Del Rey’s intentional destruction of

the fantasy that she’s created insofar, though probably good for the psyches of pre-teens everywhere, is a little heartbreaking, in part because it’s obvious that Del Rey is struggling to find the same energy of her past work without her persona. The simple piano ballads do get old, and her electronic work comes off as dissonant and amateur, with the kind of lazy lyrics expected from a Camilla Cabello song, like “Hands on your knees/I’m Angelina Jolie”.

But there is something gripping about the vulnerability of Did You Know. Emulating Del Rey as a fourteen year old girl meant crafting a heart-shaped-glasses image of oneself through the eyes of pervy old men and a captive audience. It was thrilling and addictive. But in Did You Know, Lana strips away the story, the fame, and the coke. When the melodrama is gone, and all that you have left is you, your family, and G-d, how do you live with no longer being watched?

Black Country, New Road Pushes Forward on Live at Bush Hall

Henry

Boehm

Contributor

If I had listened to Live at Bush Hall two years ago, I wouldn’t have thought that it was a Black Country, New Road album. Each new release marks such a radical sonic shift from the last that each album could occupy its own “era” in the band’s stylistic development. Their 2021 debut, For the First Time, was characterized by an abrasive, post-rock sound that led the band to cheekily dub themselves the “world’s second-best Slint tribute act.” Their second album, the critically acclaimed Ants from Up There, marked a move towards chamber pop, drawing influences from Arcade Fire and Sufjan Stevens. Just four days prior to its release, lead vocalist, lead guitarist, and primary songwriter Isaac Wood announced his departure from the band due to his mental health struggles. The rest of the band announced that they would no longer perform any songs written with Isaac, but that they were already working on new material. A month ago, the band released Live at Bush Hall, a concert film recorded during the previous December. The album version was released on March 24.

Rather than retreating to their edgier, post-rock roots, Black Country, New Road continues to push forward on Live at Bush Hall. The album opener, “Up Song,” begins with a jumpy saxophone riff that sounds straight off of Ants from Up There before launching into the lively, piano-laden verse, featuring bassist Tyler Hyde on vocals. Though a striking change from Wood’s powerful voice, Hyde’s light voice fits well with the dense instrumentation. The lyrics are likely connected to Isaac and his struggles with mental health (“Did you exchange your soul with the devil/All so that you could survive the dark pit in which you once lived?”). However, the song comes to an optimistic conclusion: “Look at what we did together/BCNR, friends forever,” a lyric at risk of being cloying were it not so earnest. BCNR is back, baby!

“I Won’t Always Love You” again features Hyde on vocals, opening with the line “I will always love you and/I will always want you.” She is accompanied by flute, piano, and violin in a delightfully baroque opening section. The song gradually picks up as the guitar and drums join in, with lyrics la -

menting a gradually deteriorating relationship. The instrumentation reaches a dramatic climax, including a frantic saxophone line reminiscent of “Science Fair,” as the narrator, amidst the bombast, finally declares “I won’t always love you and/I won’t always want you.”

“The Wrong Trousers” is probably the weakest of the bunch. Saxophonist Lewis Evans provides the vocals, and though his voice isn’t terrible, his sustained notes have a way of boring into the ears. The verses meander, and the lyrics (“I’ll look back kindly/For we made something to be proud of”) seem to rehash what we’ve already heard on “Up Song” (“Look at what we did together”).

“Turbines/Pigs” is the clear centerpiece of the album. The opening lyrics, sung by pianist May Kershaw, reference invisibility (“Thought no one could see me now/I didn’t put my clothes on”), a theme established in “Up Song” (“All these things will remain invisible to the world”), as well as a desperate plea from the narrator: “Don’t waste your pearls on me/I’m only a pig.” May is accompanied only by sparse piano until nearly 4 minutes into the song, when it begins to build as the rest of the instruments are introduced, peaking in a 3 minute instrumental climax

. “Turbines/Pigs” invites comparisons to “Basketball Shoes,” Ants from Up There’s closer. Like that song, it’s arguably the musical and emotional zenith of the album. However, where the climax of “Basketball Shoes” is centered upon Isaac’s agonized vocal delivery and lyrics. The climax of “Turbines/Pigs” is purely instrumental, as if the band is acknowledging that Isaac is irreplaceable, consciously leaving a gap where vocals might be expected. But it’s not over yet! In “Dancers,” Tyler returns to the mic, with lyrics touching upon feelings of detachment and self-loathing (“The way she talks is dumb/She’s fake in the way she talks to them”), elaborating upon the theme of inadequacy referenced in “Turbines/Pigs.” The band joins together for a bombastic final chorus, before simmering back down, transitioning seamlessly into the final song, “Up Song (Reprise).” This reprise, in a complete reversal from the original, is quiet and moody. The

song, unable to muster the energy for any choruses, ends on a slightly pessimistic note, returning to that line about the devil before the audience erupts into applause.

Live at Bush Hall is an exceptionally courageous undertaking. Black Country, New Road were not only faced with following up one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the decade, but they had to do so without their frontman. Nevertheless, the band is able to pull together and create a fresh, cohesive, and poignant work. The album reflects a band in transition, aided by the fact that it was recorded live, allowing for a looser sound and more musical experimentation.

Though not as excellent as Ants from Up There, Live at Bush Hall nonetheless exceeded my expectations, both in the quality of music and the rapid timeframe in which it was recorded and released. Some BCNR fans might be turned off of the album due to the dramatic sonic change from their previous material, but to ignore Live at Bush Hall is to ignore Black Country, New Road’s versatility and constantly advancing sound, perhaps the band’s most admirable qualities.

Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

Scaring the Hoes: A Chaotic, Creative, and Charismatic Collection of Songs

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

Barrington DeVaughn Hendricks, more commonly known as JPEGMAFIA, is no stranger to making energetic, loud, and fun music alongside larger-thanlife instrumentals. On his own, he’s a force to be reckoned with, but alongside Daniel Dewan Sewell (or Danny Brown), the two were bound to strike gold, and they more than delivered. This is especially true in hindsight since JPEGMAFIA produced the entire thing, and the quality of his beats rival that of his rapping.

The album’s frst single and frst track, “Lean Beef Patty” is a fantastic introduction to this project’s vibe with its unique beat and both artists’ humorous bars. The song’s instrumental sounds like something that 100 Gecs would create, but somehow it works amid the track’s chaos. It also features the frst of many iconic samples featured in this project, namely “I Need a Girl Pt. 2” by Diddy.

Peggy is also the highlight of the song, with great lines referencing things like Twitter drama such as “Fuck Elon Musk/8 dollars too much/bitch that’s expensive.” A similar one that I gravitate towards is “You can go from Elon to Ye in a week.” While Brown is not as notable on the track, his fow and energy still add to the song. He also has a handful of standout lines that aren’t quite as topical as JPEGMAFIA’s, such as the simple but efective, “Spittin fast like Busta.”

The next track “Steppa Pig” begins with Danny Brown and features him with much more impressive lines and fows. Some of the most memorable included “Stuck to it like fy traps, my pockets awoke, no ice packs” and the slightly controversial “They career like Whitney in the bathtub/sad as fuck.”

Even with Brown stepping up his game, Peggy doesn’t back down. Frankly there’s too much content in the verse to highlight everything he said, but the following two bars had me hyped. “They of of that 2chan high, incels just can’t let it go like Frozen/Bet if I let of these shots, no games, you fnna just dance like Gotenks.” No matter the song or time, Peggy’s references to nerd culture will always hit diferent. The track also has a superb beat switch in its fnal 30 seconds, and the rest of the project features far more of these moments.

The third and title track features Peggy on the hook and Danny with the frst verse. Even the instrumental here fts the album’s theme, with the background sounding like a mix of horror stings and clapping. The chorus is also notably self-aware, criticizing people for scaring the hoes and playing “weird shit.”

Another standout track is “Burfct!” which features the project’s greatest beat, reminiscent of a military march song, and some of the album’s most fast-paced, engaging fows from both artists. Danny Brown opens the song with the hilarious bar, “Like NASCAR nigga you better not go there,” and only gets better as it continues. In JPEGMAFIA’s verse, I was particularly pleased with the section in his verse about Trump, his various escapades, and other political matters in the world. In a way only he can, he does this with lines referencing “Choppas like NATO.”

The other two particularly pleasing records here were also the last two tracks on the album. “HOE (Heaven on Earth)” begins with JPEGMAFIA and his addictive fow over a beautiful beat featuring a choir. Danny Brown absolutely has the standout verse here, speaking on his relationship with God and women in

diferent contexts. The religious lines are provocative, with Brown saying: “Fell on my knees when I caught a felony/Tell me who there for me/Think I need therapy/sent God a text but his message turn green.” His references to Urkel and his alter-ego Stefan from Family Matters later in the verse were also cool to hear.

The fnal track is certainly a spectacle, with a beat that rivals the triumphant sound of “Burfct!” Furthermore, both Danny Brown and JPEGMAFIA bring their all when it comes to the bars and fow here. Peggy most astonishes listeners with lines like “the choppa young as Matt Gaetz b-,” which cuts out for obvious reasons. Brown also has smooth wordplay, saying things like “Some people saying that I’m shallow,but I’m jumping of the deep end/ ‘Bout to fip the script, I ain’t even read the treatment.” Just as the album’s frst track did, this one fully encapsulates everything that an album called SCARING THE HOES should be.

The other tracks across this album are also engaging and inventive, with only one song that could be considered a fat-out skip. (Said song was “Run the Jewels,” which still had a great beat and high energy. It simply didn’t feature enough interesting bars or fows from either artist performing.) “Garbage Pail Kids” has one of the project’s greatest bars from Danny Brown: “Eat ya ass like I’m Canibus.” “God Loves You” is a quick banger featuring a great verse from Brown themed around sex and religion. It also features a low-key performance from Peggy that still doesn’t detract from the song.

“Orange Juice Jones” with its samples of “Dear Michael” by Michael Jackson and Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” has one of the tightest beats here, but the track is too short to fully utilize it. One song that did not disappoint, despite its simplicity, was “Jack Harlow Combo Meal,” which I was looking forward to since the album’s announcement. I’m especially glad that Brown chose to speak about the actual combo meal in his verse. “Fentanyl Tester” has one of the project’s most unique beats, and “Shut Yo Bitch Ass Up/Muddy Waters” is essentially two songs, both of which hold up in their own right.

And then there’s “Kingdom Hearts Key,” which has an oddly angelic beat compared to many of the more rough and ragged instrumentals present here. Sampling “Funky Worm” by The Ohio Players and “You’re Gettin’ A Little Too Smart” by the Detroit Emeralds, the track also features the record’s only feature from redveil, who does well with a braggadocious rapping performance alongside Brown and JPEGMAFIA. Still, Peggy manages to outshine both with another hilarious line: “Hunter Biden bitch stay out my sink/ Ketamine got me singin’ like Tink.”

SCARING THE HOES is everything that the title and fantastic cover art implies. It’s aggressive, experimental, nonsensical, and the defnition of a shitpost in musical form. Needless to say, the project exceeded my expectations, and even if spinning it so often does scare the bad bitches away, that’s an L I’m willing to take.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

To Connect the Oscar-Verse: What the last three Best Picture winners mean

Zach Terrillion Staff Writer

It’s been about a month since the 95th Academy Awards, honoring 2022’s best in film. I’ve been following and reporting on this Awards season technically since my review of Blonde way back in October. Still, I won’t report too much on the ceremony because there isn’t that much to report. I think that’s actually what the Academy was hoping for. There was no drama. No egregious winners. It was an era of good feelings.

Everything Everywhere All at Once took home Best Picture. It was the first ever sci-fi movie to do so. It won 7 awards overall, the most won by the Best Picture winner in nearly 15 years. These seven awards included a whopping three acting awards, only the third film ever to do so (the last was Network in 1976). TLDR, the Oscars loved this movie. This flick is about butt plugs, raccoons who cook, queerness, and generational trauma. What stands out is how it compares to the last two best picture winners. Nomadland in 2020 and Coda in 2021. These three films are similar and different in many ways. They form a trilogy that traces the voters’ views, the Academy.

Traditionally, the voters’ views have reflected where society lies at a given moment. The 70s were defined by winners like The French Connection and The Godfather.

Gritty dramas that reflected the edge of the New Hollywood movement and American youth culture in general. The 80s and 90s gave the top prize to prestigious epics like Gandhi, Braveheart, and Titanic. This perhaps reflects the rebirth of American conservatism with Reagan, Bush, and Clinton. These movies were old-fashioned crowdpleasers, moving back into the past through period costumes and sets.

Moonlight won in 2017 right after the election of Donald Trump, notoriously beating the frontrunner, La La Land. Trump’s election was adrenaline to the populace, raising awareness of the hatred still at America’s heart. It was a dark, urgent time. Everyone needed to make a statement. To take a side and do the right thing. An old-fashioned musical did not meet such a statement.

A raw, groundbreaking portrayal of Queer blackness likely did. The later 2010s awarded additional films, like Green Book (ugh) and Parasite (yay), which reflect contemporary cultural and societal issues like capitalism and racial tolerance.

This trend begs the question. What do the best picture winners of the 2020s represent? What do they mean

the camera linger on shots of America’s beautiful heartland. The screenplay is minimal, almost documentarian, with supporting characters played by reallife road nomads. It’s a small, subtle movie, coming out only a year after the blockbusting Parasite.

The fact this tiny movie won Picture may just be that it was the Pandemic year. The fact a movie could contend

She visits the home briefly before returning to the road. She is moving forward. This ability to move amid change meant something to people.

Coda was 2022’s Best Picture winner and is quite similar to Nomadland. It is a small indie about working-class people. In this case, however, it’s a family of deaf fishermen. Like Fran, their hearing daughter discovers a gift for singing and is looking toward the future. It’s pretty typical fare as the daughter juggles whether to stay with and help her family or leave her old life behind for college. Like Nomadland, the film also centers on connection. In this case, it’s about family. Even when you’re isolated, leaving your family behind, they’ll still be there for you. Coda is simple, but it makes you feel good. It shockingly upset 2022’s frontrunner, Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog, a dark, depressing, and homoerotic revisionist western. That upset emphasized the Academy’s taste. They preferred the lighter, happier work. The one about family and the one about connection.

for American culture and society? What is their statement? I want to first examine 2021’s winner, Nomadland. Chloe Zhao’s realist indie chronicles a working-class older woman played by Frances McDormand. She is left adrift after the death of her husband and the closing of the manufacturing plant where she works. She becomes a modern nomad, living out of her van as she treks the nation for meaning, belonging, and community.

The film is not your typical Best Picture winner. It’s slow as hell, letting

for this season was an awards-worthy accomplishment. Still, out of all the small indies nominated, why this one? Chloe Zhao’s film is ultimately about isolation and connection. A lonely woman treks in an empty space. She shouts her name into the horizon alone. She perhaps waits for someone to respond. Or she is perfectly content with where she is. Nomadland reflected a society likewise lonely, adrift amid sudden change. At the film’s end, Fran visits her former home, abandoned like much of Rust Belt America.

No film defines family and connection like Everything, Everywhere, All at Once does. Removing all the multiverse shenanigans is not too different from the confusing postcapitalism of Nomadland or the power of family in Coda. If anything, it’s a perfect meeting place for these two themes. It is a multigenerational tale of family unity in a time of strife. The win of Everything, Everywhere means a lot of things. A rare win for genre filmmaking, opening the doors for horror, animation, fantasy, comedy, etc., to have a seat at the table. A rare win for small-scale filmmaking that can break big at the box office amidst the hegemony of the MCU (Which has the truer Multiverse of Madness?). A rare win for actors and creators of color, with Michelle Yeoh only the second woman of color EVER to win Best Actress. In terms of what Everything, Everywhere and these other films mean for the Oscars? It’s a rare toss-up.

The Oscars ratings have been declining for a while now (though they did

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Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

go up a bit this year, capping at 18.7 million viewers compared to 16.7 million the year before). I’ve been bothering the Grape’s readers with awards coverage for most of this season, probably to little avail. I often get questions from friends and family about the nominated films. What exactly is in contention? Truthfully, I only watched EEAAO and Top Gun: Maverick. The year before, folks were reviewing the Will Smith tea, rather than Apple TV (which distributed Coda) winning the big prize. This is 100 percent valid. My obsession is incredibly unhealthy, dating back to when I first watched Seth MacFarlane make wildly offensive jokes at the 2013 Oscars. Back then, the only nominee I watched was Les Miz. The Oscars don’t matter. We should probably start calling them The Oblivions: The annual gala for the Hollywood elite.

The three films epitomize the Oscars’ twilight. Nomadland and Coda are small-in-scale and little seen (at least not as much as Top Gun). They’re either schmaltzy or pretentious in the eyes of many general audiences. They are textbook Oscar winners. Still, they’re reflective. The idea of family and connection, but also being willing to separate from those connections, whether leaving your family for musical school or packing it all up in a van and taking to an open road. These two movies know to let go. Maybe the Academy does too.

However, Everything, Everywhere is about overcoming that letting go. The main protagonist, Evelyn Wang, reaches out to her daughter across the universe as she slowly slips away. She is defiant against the systems that surround her. She rebels like the female leads of Nomadland and Coda, but she does it to keep her family together. In awarding Everything, Everywhere, perhaps the Academy is returning to itself. Trying, in what is perhaps a lastditch attempt, to connect.

America, as a whole, is attempting to reconnect with itself. There is so much uncertainty about our sense of belonging. Our government is in flux. The internet is the new center of human culture. We feel so lost, separated from ourselves. Perhaps the Oscars are reactionary and arguing for a return to old-fashioned values. They want a return to good feelings. Another chance to reconnect with his audience. As long as they don’t recognize another Green Book, I’ll keep crawling back. I, and many others, probably need it.

John Wick: Chapter 4-More Than the Melee?

Sebastian Cruz Contributor

I understand the importance of a series such as John Wick a lot more intimately than some may think, insofar as it is the natural conclusion to a cultural zeitgeist of pure motherfucking action™ that has hardly seen this much ubiquity since any decade of your choosing. The institutional behemoth of Marvel Studios spits them out one, two, five at a time each and every year and we love them (or hate them (or love them again. I’m excited for Guardians, Vol. 3, I can’t fib.)) Such a mass regularity of the characterdriven, continuity-based action flicks arrives at a sort of singularity. There are certainly characters in John Wick. Hell, they even have motivations and established relationships with each other. And that’s all well and good. But any scene that does not feature a sweaty, battle born Keanu Reeves shitkick-flipping every featureless baddie into the surrounding buttresses is not worth either my time nor the American peoples’. Bully for us, then, since that’s what 70-80% of the movies consist of. At least, I assume.

Full disclosure: I have not seen a lick of any other John Wick installment. I’m more or less forfeiting my amateur journalistic license here; yet, consider the circumstances: the final, and thus most climactic, portion of a series built out of increasingly creative gunplay and/or fisticuffs. The plot is a delicate mish-mash of already established events that are most often alluded to and, on occasion, outright stated. Yet the actual movie-specific plot is so simple that it makes no difference. John Wick is such a fucking badass that everyone in the world wants him dead. He’s taken out entire city-states’ worth of gunmen, blademen, bluntinstrumentmen. And his original motivation for all of this is so obfuscated that even the villains outright ask about the inanity of his deathwish. He quite literally has nothing to gain. Wife dead, wife’s dog dead, disavowed, destitute, can’t emote to save his life.

Now, let’s not kid ourselves. Keanu Reeves is a heavy load to bear when you’re including him on the ticket. He’s a beautiful little paradox, and this film is perhaps his lifetime achievement. Every line delivery he

can muster is wrapped in a stoic monotone not unheard of for these sorts of balls-to-the-wall action flicks (see Bruce Willis, Jason Statham, Daniel Craig, and for the subversive amongst you, Steven Seagal.) However, Reeves falls into the uncanny valley of emotionality where nothing he says makes him sound either tough or sympathetic. I think he legitimately sounds confused, as though after all these damn years of this cat and mouse horseshit is still lost on him.

And what makes it all the better is that just about everyone else is really selling it! The less-often-mentioned Skårsgard brother resurrects the evil Frenchman type into a succinct and dastardly string-puller. Ian McShane and Laurence Fishburne are grandiose enough for three; however, the newest arrivals are perhaps the most well-rounded of the ticket. Donnie Yen was so convincing as an old friend of Wick’s that it didn’t dawn on me that he’s just not introduced at all in the previous three installments, and Shanier Anderson’s “Mr. Nobody” is a perfect foil for Wick—still possessing that grizzled mystery ever-present in this tragic backstory-filled gunmen without the tragic backstory. He even still has his dog which, metatextually at least, is just insensitive. Cursory Rina Sawayama comment. Where’s LP3?

I know nobody really gives a shit but I need to make a detour to focus on the look of the film, because you know what, filmmaking is all-encompassing and I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that this movie is kind of beautiful. Even in the boring-if-necessary half-act at the beginning, the clean, almost clinical scene blocking and location mixes with the orange overtones in a deeply satisfying way. So too is the Osaka Continental cloaked in enveloping purples and blues, the streets of Paris shadowy and aplomb with environmental hazards. There’s probably something about the camerawork that’s subtly intricate and well-planned but as long as I can see whose foot is going up whoever’s ass then I think the general public (and I) are solid gold.

Now, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m kinda sorta stalling when it

comes to talking about the actual meat of this action-packed action movie for the action-inclined. It’s very clear that in this movie, and so by extension the previous three, that the frilly extras of plot, dialogue, emotional performances and the like are less than secondary draws. Unique selling points (USPs) are ever-the-more singular. Oftentimes, they’re stratified as “gimmicks”, as flashy, style-over-anything shlock that fills seats.

Yet at the same time, isn’t it a little silly to expect anything metaphorically, philosophically, spiritually more from a near-3 hour movie that seeks to entertain and little else? The notion that every aspect of a film needs to be scrutinized completely ignores the intent in which it was created. And we are hardly short of other films that primarily seek to stimulate one’s “higher brain” (whatever that means this time).

One could propose that John Wick: Chapter 4 and the series as a whole tries to cut it both ways, just by the pure reason that there followed three more movies from the original. John Wick IS that guy, so they purport. Underneath it all, he’s a guy who misses his family. There’s a lot of context you miss when tilting your head at one part of a four-part story, but even that simple idea shines through by the end. That sort of plain if poignant driving force is enough of a tangible thread to connect it to the previously depicted violence and the implied mass violence from before.

It all ultimately depends on what one wants to gain from such a movie franchise like John Wick. The merits of it, for me, comes down to how many ways this orphaned Russian expatriate can kick an inordinate amount of ass. At this juncture, my scope limits me, but if I had fun with what they wanted to present to me—the lights, the colors, the muzzle flashes and bone crackles—then isn’t that already a job well done?

I Thought I Couldn’t Care Less About Gwyneth Paltrow’s Trial, and Was Proven Wrong

Ellen Efstathiou Staff Writer

To be entirely honest, I didn’t know exactly what was happening with Gwyneth Paltrow until shamefully recently. I had seen the clip of the unintentionally passive-aggressive lawyer saying “You’re so small…well, not that small,” so I knew she was in court, but that was about it. Other than that, I’d seen her in Shakespeare in Love, and I knew she’d done some kind of weird health cult stuf with Goop. However, when she was brought up at the Grape pitch meeting I fgured I could come up with an opinion about her. She seems to be one of those people we are born with opinions about. But since learning more about her trial, the conclusion I’ve come to is this: I do not give a singular shit about Gwyneth Paltrow.

She’s not the frst celebrity to have had a very public trial, whose clips have gone insanely viral on Twitter and other social media platforms. I need it to stop. I need what happens in those courtrooms to stay in those courtrooms, and not end up on the internet ever. Because what is being gained from this?

Celebrity gossip can be harmless. The elites will never hear the conversation you had over dinner about whether Harry Styles actually spat on Chris Pine or not. Furthermore, more serious issues can be deemed “useful” gossip. The trial between Johnny Depp and Amber Heard, while being a cringeworthy shitshow a lot of the time, also brought a lot of awareness to domestic violence issues.

However, what is Gwyneth Paltrow doing? She went skiing, got in a skiing accident, got sued for medical reasons, and asked for one dollar in return (which is defnitely only because it would look bad to ask for more, not because she was person-

ally infuenced by Taylor Swift). And while she’s been made fun of plenty of times, for everything from Goop to being a dumb blonde, it doesn’t really seem like there’s a deeper reason to it. I don’t care about her, but I don’t think that she’s doing real harm for the most part. We’re all just living in

Paltrow’s trial (and honestly the media surrounding every celebrity trial that’s happened recently) is part of the problem too. Why are cameras allowed in these courtrooms and why must the media squeeze every last drop out of these trials?

Of course, all the attention is partially the point. As long as the celebrity is still liked by the media and the public, they’re all good. That’s more important than whether they win the trial or not. As we’ve seen in the past few years, canceling doesn’t work, and celebrities just need the majority of the public to like them. Or for the majority of the public to forget why they didn’t like them. And what better way of getting an audience to like you than by having “memeable” (to quote the Entertainment Tonight youtube channel) moments in your trial?

The lawyers have been a particularly noticeable part of celebrity trials. There are compilations of their best moments on Youtube. Having a young, cool, hip lawyer will win points with the public. For these trials, choosing your lawyer is even more important than usual. I don’t think anyone has been so interested in lawyers since Legally Blonde came out.

social media, so the spectacle of it all is more evident than it has been in the past.

This isn’t entirely the general public’s fault, either. They are not to blame for the theatrics surrounding celebrities and their carefully curated personas. The media surrounding Gwyneth’s

In conclusion, Gwyneth Paltrow did not start this and it is not her fault that her trial has been turned into such a spectacle. Such is the world we live in these days. I know that telling people that they shouldn’t care about celebrity gossip this banal is pointless, but nevertheless, maybe things that are in court should not be treated the same as gossip about celebrity couples. This goes for the public, the media, PR people, and everyone in between. This is all pointless. I do not care about Gwyneth Paltrow, and Gwyneth Paltrow does not care about me.

Illustration by Lydia Rommel Contributor

Rich Cat, Poor Cat

Re:

re: working-class at Oberlin College

Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

In September 2019, I was commencing my first semester at Oberlin College. I wince now, as anyone might, remembering how naive I was. I had just graduated from my Southeast Texas high school, in a town smackdab between Houston and Galveston, where I grew up. There, I had spent the summer following graduation in a red polyester vest, teaching small children toilet-paper-roll, googly-eye crafts at my craft-store job. My girlfriend-at-the-time worked across the street and would pick me up in their coughing black Mustang – that which promptly, theatrically, died the last week of summer break – everyday so we could escape the oppressive swamp heat together. They drove us to a nearby beach town where we swam in the Gulf, exchanged pulls from a weed pen, and listened to punk rock. Where I grew up, just about all there was to do was work 7.25-minimum-wage and sit stoned in someone’s shuttering car. Much of Texas is composed of these sprawling, working-class suburban wastelands: those realms which manufacture boredom and recalcitrance. In such places, Oberlin – and places like Oberlin – seem not to exist; it is almost impossible to not be naive when one is moving away to a place that feels mythological.

In September 2019, I stumbled into my first Grape meeting, and subsequently contributed my first article for publication, “Working Class on Campus: An Ode to the Connectionless”. In it, I detail the classism, elitism, and general alienation I felt constantly at Oberlin, as a workingclass person from the South. Reading the piece now, in 2023, as I apply for post-grad jobs in a handful of big cities and toil away at an English capstone, I’m surprised by its insight. How had I understood, with less than a month of college under my belt, the complexities of class at Oberlin? Had it hit me that fast? Had I already encountered those archetypes which still populate, which may perhaps always populate, Oberlin: “trust fund punk-rockers, upper-middle-class anarchists, and the socialist offspring of ivy league professionals” as I put it at eighteen?

Well, sort of. But I certainly

had more to experience. My first article – though still, surprisingly, quite truthful – really only grazes the surface of Oberlin’s socio-economic landscape. Now, as a senior who has become quite acquainted with both the campus and the town, I admit that there is more to the story…and there will still be far more to the story than what I am able to communicate in this article.

politically-aware, Leftist family, and because I grew up low-income, I’ve understood that I am working-class since before I can remember. Where I grew up, it was completely normal to belong to the working class, to struggle financially. And it is completely normal. It is the experience of a very large swath of the American population…just perhaps not here, not on this campus.

ago, The Grape staff writer Skye Jalal wrote of the phenomenon in her own article, aptly titled: “If you hate living in Ohio, maybe you should think about why”. Because of the culture alive on our campus, and those New Yorkers and Los Angeles-ites who traverse it, Oberlin is not representative of most small, Northern Ohio towns. Still, though, we attend college here. And how Obies love to giggle about that fact! How quaint and provincial it is that they, of all people, are in Ohio, among….well…the poor! The “uncultured”! The trade-schooled! But not really. Not among, but rather withinthe-bounds-of. Temporarily. They, we, will eagerly flee again soon – to NYC, to LA, to Chicago or DC or Philly or wherever.

The anti-Ohio sentiment alive in Oberlin is strange to me because, when I arrived here, I was unaccustomed to it. I was excited to move to Ohio as a teenager. I never understood it as a bad place to live. This might be because my own hometown is significantly less attractive and more culturally desolate than Oberlin, or because the South and the Midwest are, in some ways, quite similar insofar as values. But the main reason is probably that, living in the South, I seldom heard much about Ohio other than from my mother. As I detail in another early Grape article, my mother also, coincidentally, lived in Northern Ohio when she was around my age – but just to live, to have her first baby (my older brother), and not to go to college. She lived in Akron and then Wooster, loving her time in both. Thus, the word “Ohio”, from her mouth, was almost musical. In Ohio, the trees are gorgeously orange in the fall! In the winter, snow covers everything like powdered sugar! There are small, Christmas-village towns full of 100-year-old clapboards! Apple cider abounds! And real maple syrup siphoned from the trunks of very old trees! What magic.

First of all, I must assert that Oberlin did not “radicalize me”, whatever that means; my working-class family did. Both because I come from a

I won’t be the first to suggest Oberlin’s unnerving talent for maintaining a bubble of upper-class, elite urbanity in the middle of pseudo-rural Ohio. Many have spoken of it, written of it, suffered over it. Just a couple of issues

The mythical narrative that Ohio was a place I should think myself too good for was introduced to me by the wealthy, major-city-natives I came to know in my first year at Oberlin. To them, everything about Ohio was

Photo by Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

tongue-in-cheek, and they were certainly quite brave and progressive for roughing it out here. To me, to my whole family, Oberlin was a vacation destination. I sent my family pictures, informing them of my daily escapades, and they were enchanted. I was never allowed, truly, to complain about Oberlin to my family –because I was here, in Oberlin. Attending a place like Oberlin was not only my dream, but my mother’s dream for me. Even on my worst days, everything was miraculous: a gift. It was like I was having an entirely different experience than that of my wealthy friends, though we stood right beside one another.

Indeed, the class differences between me and my friends caused great friction in our relationships, and later, looming resentment. Over the years, I found myself losing friends to these socioeconomic rifts – which grew the angrier I became and the guiltier, the more out-of-touch, they seemed. See, I was raised by Leftist, working-class, largely-self-educated grassroots organizers. Class justice is integral to my identity. I think about income disparity every single day – not just when I have to write a paper about it. My working-class, Southern background is something loud within me, begging to be spoken of and written about; I’ve never been able to hide it or tamp it down to comfort others. And yet, at Oberlin, I found myself pressured to do so. Raised on an endless well of just anger, I was taught to be hyper-critical of the wealthy, and yet here I was, at this institution which perpetually boasted its commitment to social justice, befriending their delicate, unemployed offspring. My mental health understandably suffered. I felt tugged between two classes and belonging to neither.

It was during the spring of my third year at Oberlin – a particularly rough one: I was working long hours at a fast food job and had just lost several close friends – that I got the little stick-and-poke cat illustration which dwells on my inner arm. To most people,

this particular tattoo is just a weary little cat, and that’s fine by me. In my eyes, though, the illustration is Scat, the feline hero from a class-oriented childrens’ book I adored growing up: Bernard Waber’s 1963 Rich Cat, Poor Cat. It’s a hippie-kid staple meant to instill the reader with empathy for poor stray cat Scat, and all the other cats in his orbit, who, though belonging to different class identities and ways of life, are all deserving of happiness, comfort, and respect. Scat teaches children about class but he also lives a happy, tomcat lifestyle. He is unashamed of who he is. I carry him on my skin as both a fragment of my goofy, Leftie childhood, and as a talisman that reminds me: you belong here. It’s OK that you are here.

Though I am not a stray cat, I’ve felt at times like little old Scat. Many well-meaning, wealthy Obies have told me that I “have taught [them] so much” and that merely being around me has made them think about class much more than they ever have. Which is mostly a great thing; many people in the U.S., especially those who have never felt financially uncomfortable or discriminated-against, do not possess a rich enough class consciousness. I’m glad that I have been able to teach others my perspective just as I am glad when my friends have been able to teach me theirs. That being said, I do not attend Oberlin to teach rich people about poor people – I attend Oberlin to be a student. A friend. A very young person.

So, while Oberlin did not “radicalize me”, it did teach me about wealth and how it works. And I can tell you now, as a senior coaxing myself through one final, miraculous semester at Oberlin, that the socioeconomic alienation I felt my entire time here was a rude though invaluable awakening. There are many things I wish I could tell my eighteen-yearold self. If you’re reading this and you’re also an Obie who identities with being workingclass, low-income, or firstgen, perhaps I can lend some wisdom:

1. Your mere presence is radical. It might sound corny, but the fact that you are here, taking up space, is important. Remind yourself of that as often as you can.

2. There are more of us than you think. For a long time, because of who I surrounded myself with, I didn’t know many other Obies from backgrounds similar to mine. But they, we, exist. Put effort into finding people who share your experiences. I promise they’re here – and they’re not wearing “bluecollar cosplay”.

3. “Hard work” is subjective. If you’re low-income at Oberlin, you probably work a lot, on top of all your schoolwork. You may find that wealthier Obies do not. Take this into account when you yield to the (natural, human) inclination to compare yourself to your peers. Not everyone’s idea of “hard work”, a “busy schedule”, and a “long shift” is the same. Recognize this and show yourself compassion.

4. Take advantage of Oberlin’s resources while realizing its limitations. It took me years to recognize which parts of Oberlin benefitted me and which ones did not. Checking out books from the libraries, rather than buying them or finding them online, has been hugely helpful, for instance. Mudd isn’t just a study spot! Take advantage of its robust catalog and fill your room with books. On the other hand, dining co-ops, while very beneficial to some students, didn’t work for me; I didn’t have the time or energy, after work and school, for cook shifts. And that’s ok!

5. Your anger makes sense. Put it to use. Realize the inherent value of your perspective and let it be known –whether that’s through talking in class, writing an op-ed, or joining a political org. You’re allowed to be angry. In fact, you should be. Doing something with it can make you feel a little less heavy.

Photo by Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

What is it about self-pathologization that is so satisfying?

Ollie Axelrod Staff Writer

In 2023, pop-psychology has successfully captivated every demographic of socially progressive, financially privileged young people, from fans of true crime podcasts to National Public Radio-heads. The appeal is obvious—pop psychology, with its DSM worship and focus on assigning enneagram personality types and love languages, is such an easy way to pretend to selfactualize. It’s truly intoxicating to identify with so much random stuff. There is no place that this individualism is stronger than in privileged environments like Oberlin College, where ego stroking takes center stage in our hyperprogressive posturing. At Oberlin, our worship of self-pathologization tinges the language that we use to describe ourselves and our relationships with others. We decide that we are much more innately socially attuned than other people; we are empaths. We secretly conclude that the girl that we think is annoying is probably actually a covert narcissist with delusions of grandeur. We flirt with men at parties that would never call their ex-girlfriend a crazy bitch—so they resort to describing her as histrionic and bipolar without any medical basis. Of course, pop-psychology has not introduced civilization to the vice of gossip. People have always loved to hate— it may be one of the most uniting things about us. But we portray this shit-talking as medical fact. The ability to whip out and weaponize diagnostic language is a sort of badge of upper-middle class apathy: a skill that often requires thousands of

dollars of ineffective thera py and hundreds of hours of Twitter-scrolling to hone.

Beyond this, however, what concerns me about our preoccupation with pathol ogization is how much arm chair diagnosis allows us to explain away and dis tance ourselves from some of our most human traits: our spite, shame, and vit riol. When we rationalize ourselves into moral pu rity and villainize all who challenge it, we never give ourselves the chance to honestly acknowledge our repeated social blind spots or indulgences. We aren’t gossiping, only expressing concern through conspira torial armchair diagnosis. We knee-jerk rationalize our senseless dislike and fickleness. We hold no mental space for our own warped perceptions.

Of course, this article is not a dismissal of diagnosis generally. Though Oberlin students may sometimes assign all labels too much weight during our forma tion of identity, psychiatric diagnosis is an ultimately useful and oftentimes nec essary tool for those strug gling with mental illness. The concentration of obvi ous privilege in conversa tions of armchair diagnosis is simply because mental health resources are still only accessible to the eco nomically privileged. We must be aware of the omi nous implications of as signing others labels of in herent and unchangeable neurology without medical authority.

Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

The Oberlin Citibike, and a Case for Bike Theft

Marco Fuortes Contributor

I spent my winter term in New York with a Citibike in my closet. I made the eight-hour drive back with it in the backseat. No, I’m not continuously paying for it. Yes, it’s probably being tracked. No, nobody from Citi Bike is going to make the trek to Ohio in search of it. It’s not just mine; a bunch of people know the lock’s combination. These things can only be communal; no one man can honorably own a Citibike.

Anyone able to unlock the bike is more than welcome to ride the bike, at any time. This gives an endearing impermanence to the thing. The joy of stumbling upon and proudly unlocking the royal blue chariot is counterbalanced by the despair of walking out of class to the empty slot in your bike rack. A few times a week, I’m forced to make an unexpected walk home from a class I biked to. This doesn’t upset me, because I know I’ll pay it forward in just a few hours, when I steal the bike for myself. Maybe the bike unburies a little bit of the latent sadism of its owners. Not maliciously, but in a fun, pranksterous way. The bike has a humanlike spontaneity that I adore: there is real pleasure in something so fleeting, whether it’s stolen from me or I’m the one stealing it. A ride to class is more significant on a Citibike; enjoy it while you can, and cherish it for when you can’t.

One of my close friends is a serial bike thief. For a week in December, he was peering out his window with his eyes fixed on a delectable steal. He couldn’t stop talking about this ol’ dilapidated thing, tossed on its side in the middle of South quad. He had allotted some time for the rightful owner to grab their bike, but once the moral expiration date came about, it quickly and permanently fell into his possession. After a few abysmal spraypaint jobs, it became a new bike, with a new family, where it was treated with much more love. Is this a valid justification for bike theft? Equating it to saving a child from a neglectful household? I don’t believe this is too bold of a comparison. Stealing a single clearly neglected bike is a perfect op -

portunity for sustainability and spontaneity—two things that are right up Oberlin’s alley.

The Citibike and the neglectedquad-bike are the spoils of “good” bike theft. These bikes have most definitely been forgotten about, yet give tremendous joy to the new owner. What would happen if we scaled this concept up? The answer: a Citibike for the masses. Or, more accurately, a fleet of them. Entirely composed of the dilapidated unlocked bikes sprawled across campus, which would otherwise have been left to rust. Marked recognizably (perhaps via a terrible spray paint job), such that anyone and everyone knows that they are free game. This should theoretically reduce “bad” bike theft. My roommate, Jascha Maeshiro, when registering his own bike with Campus Safety, learned that most bike thefts on campus are spontaneous. A student is late to class, for example,

and decides that picking up an unlocked bike would be a better alternative to sprinting across campus. Only sometimes are the bikes returned to the same rack, in the same condition. This is often not the case. Would it not be wonderful to enact a system in which no individual comes out of class to their own bike missing, while still maintaining the thrill of spontaneous travel? To keep it fun, it would have to be a little bit disorganized. Nobody has the time to fuck around with a lock, or a QR code, or a message board, or any other nonsense. Just take the damn bike and go! Pick up a bike wherever you find it. Leave a bike wherever you bring it. Allow others to do the same, and this beautifully sloppy system will work.

You may be quick to ask the question, “How do we steal the right bikes? There is no justification for stealing and Citibike-ing an in-use bike.”

You would be correct. Unfortunately, there is no perfect answer. We could put notes on unlocked bikes that state, “Remove this tag if this bike belongs to you,” and if they remain after a month or so, the bike becomes communalized. This is not an answer without flaws. Those leaving their bikes in a state of long-term storage (study-abroad students, for example) would suffer. Accepting bike donations would ensure nobody is stolen from, but realistically, nobody is going to donate, and this does nothing about the pestilence of ownerless bikes.

Obviously, the communal nature of this project requires communal brainstorming. No one man can come up with a solution for a town’s worth of Citibikes — nor does he have the closet space for them. I urge you to take this problem into your own backseat, ruminate, and assist me with your suggestions.

Illustration by Lydia Rommel Contributor

Cynic? I Prefer the Term World’s Most Jaded Optimist

Fionna Farrell Opinions Editor

Last year, The New York Times published an op-ed titled “Gen Z is Cynical. They’ve Earned it.” Whether from the NY Times or the NY Post, a twosentencer can only bode the most Serious Business. I figured I could read about Tiger Woods later; it was time to vindicate myself from the tudecrimes of my generation. Whether or not they’re aching to admit it, this is much of what any twenty-one year old wants in life—to be accepted, understood, and diplomatically pitied by their elders. And for tummy to stop hurting.

Understandably, the article does not so gingerly dip its toes into the shallow end of America’s cesspool. No, like the older brother I never had, the Times has a way of throwing us right into the emotional deep end. You know the drill; there is no amuse-bouche in this endless-course meal of American suffering. Over the past three years, there has remained not a demographic left untouched by the devastating and dispiriting effects of the pandemic. And gun violence. And the precipitously-increasing cost of living. And many other things I’m missing and therefore don’t care about. If you wake up happy nowadays, it’s out of temerity or ignorance, or their cocktail that goes down like jager and mayonnaise.

For everyone, in a way, has had their lives stolen from them over the past few years. For Gen-Z, we just happened to miss the most important moments, like leaving prom at 10:48 p.m., before “Dreams and Nightmares” was even played. Fortunately for my date, I did get to go to prom. However, I did miss out on many of the triumphs and pitfalls of the latter-semester college freshman experience. I had not yet not had the impulse to check the weather at a party, but I had also not yet speckled a Barrows-dweller’s Fleet Foxes record with tequila barf. Even if that would have been for the best.

Because of the youth that has been snatched out from under us, It is no surprise that these years have left us, in particular, the most tattered husks of human beings. Not that it’s a com -

petition (it is). In many ways, it has always been the young who are looked towards as a source of hope, often by those who are too weatherworn and/ or lazy to give it to us. But, deep down, I don’t chagrin the old for letting the weight of the world fall on us during these dire times. I am a young adult in 2023—I am tired too. I would pass the torch—now more of a stick engulfed in flames—to the beta gen-Alphas without blinking an eye.

I am eternally grateful, though, that a lot of my generation does not seem to think like me. For, however much the adults hurl the cword at us, and however many layers of despair, irony, and anti-post-comedy inscrutability our humor has become saturated in, Gen-Z has a way of being resilient that is beyond my waning belief in most things. I wake up every day and don’t understand how people my age are so hopeful. Then, I fall asleep and have a dream about all of my teeth falling out or being ripped apart by a seal before going to class.

Only tangentially along these lines, how can the adults, and the adulter-adults, call us cynics when BuzzFeed wrote an article called “Millennials Are Sharing Things They Actually Like About Gen-Zers”? Who is the real cynic in this picture? I’d say it should fall in the group whose every thought needs to be preceded by the word “actually”; while millennials are lost in the ambiguous murk between wanting to complain and self-actualize themselves through doggo memes, Gen-Z at least knows how terrible the world is. And we want to fix it, too. Not just because the Times writers and congresspeople pat our little altruistic, screen-inclined heads—because our lives and our futures depend on it. Furthermore, maybe Times writers are too cocky to open up a dictionary or devote themselves entirely to Antisthenesian philosophy. Shame on them! The dictionaries that matter define “cynic” as someone who believes people are wholly motivated by self-interest. As divulged earlier, I may not be the sparkling image, or the loudest voice, of my generation, but I

don’t believe this for a second. I don’t believe most of my reasonably-intelligent peers believe it, either. Tirelessly smacked-on with the labels “Misery Imbiber” and “Hope Inscriber,” it is not each other that Gen-Z finds themselves so disillusioned with. How would we ever find solidarity in common causes if this were the case? Rather, we are disillusioned with authority, with corporations, with entities that dare condescend to us while they piss all over our dreams, even if some of those had included adding “entrepreneur” to our instagram bios. It takes a lot of courage to be transparent in 2023, which few people seem to be—Gen-Z wades through the opacity of the modern world and of an uncertain future with a degree of brazenness that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, in even my harshest din -

ner-table disagreements or the tweets of right-wing pseudo-everythings. We are too hopeful to be cynics, and not necessarily by choice. Cynicism isn’t what’s keeping us alive—it’s the jaded sort of optimism that has seen our world, and still has the courage to hope for a better one. Would I be saying these eye-gougingly maudlin things if I were a real cynic? Am I only saying them in an ironic way? I’m not so sure. But I did take the time to write all this, so I think I believe at least part of it, beyond the parts that were about myself. I hope a cynic isn’t reading this. I hope you can go outside, and remember that life is a gift and you can’t return it. Even in this eternal soul-crushing shitshow, we all have to start somewhere, for each other and for ourselves.

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

TAMPA RAYS MEET MLB RECORD

Mike Wazowski Staff Writer

This past Saturday, the Tampa Rays won their 8th straight game of the season. Only four other teams have ever won 8 consecutive games by 4 or more runs.

The Rays had a relatively easy start to the season, playing first against the Chicago Bears, Atlanta Hawks, and the New York Islanders without much trouble.

This past Saturday’s game gave the Rays a bit more trouble, however. Pitched against two toddlers in a trench coat and an automatic gumball machine, the game was a close call until a lucky stray gumball hit a soft spot in one of the toddlers’ heads (8-7), allowing the Rays to swoop in and collect over 19 home runs in a row!

When asked about the winning streak, outfielder Harold Ramírez shared his lucky secret with the Associated Press:

“Well I got this genie in a lamp from a cave that a merchant led me to. I had already wished for night vision and an Xbox 360, and the genie said it was “unethical” to wish for Sofia Coppola in my bed. So I had just been sitting on the last wish ever since then, like six years or so I think, until I was staring at those toddlers on the field and thought, ‘take em’ down,’ and boy did he!”

How inspiring! Makes you wish you had your own magic

genie, doesn’t it? We spoke with other Tampa Rays teammates to get their opinions on how this incredible moment came to be. Shortstop Wander Franco talked about the importance of teamwork:

“We train hard as a team and that’s what makes the difference. There is no Franco or Ramírez, just the Rays and that’s how we work together as a unit.”

Teammate Josh Lowe shared that sentiment, stating:

“Really, it’s the fans that make it happen. We wouldn’t be anything without our city, without the people of Tampa.”

Manuel Margot had a slightly different take:

“I think it might have had something to do with the sweet kiss Ramírez planted on the magic genie’s lips halfway through the first inning and the magic cloud of purple dust that burst out from them onto the whole field. Something really shifted in the air after that moment, and the toddlers just came crashing down.”

We’ll have to wait and see if the good luck continues, but one thing’s for sure: whether it’s the magic of a genie or the magic of baseball, Ramírez certainly rubbed something the right way last week.

Illustration by Teagan Hughes Editor-in-Chief

New Shapes

Isabel Hardwig

Bad Habits Editor

I have not always loved tile patterns, but I do love jumping on the tile patterns bandwagon whenever something interesting is going on there. A couple weeks ago, the most tile patterns thing happened since 1974, and it was a doozy! In case this is the first you’re hearing about it, here’s a rundown:

• Some tiles can make patterns that are infinite (fit into each other without gaps or overlaps, and could continue doing so forever).

• Some tiles can make patterns that are non-repeating (you can’t just take one segment of tile pattern and insert it into another segment of tile pattern elsewhere in the tile pattern–it has no translational symmetry).

• Although mathematicians have found sets of multiple tiles that meet both criteria, they have long been searching for the “Einstein” of tile patterns: a single tile that can make a pattern that is both infinite and non-repeating.

• A guy called David Smith, who is “always messing around with shapes,” recently discovered a shape that fits the bill, solving a math problem that has been vexing people since the ‘60s. It has 13 sides, it’s called “the hat,” and it rocks more than anything else in the world.

THE HAT

I can admit that the whole concept of “hat tile” has already been done pretty well, but what can I say? I stand on the shoulders of giants. Here is a tile that probably would not fit together infinitely without repeating patterns, but which does look like a hat, and that’s one third of the battle.

TREE THAT GREW AROUND A BIKE

This tile is in the shape of a bike that was abandoned near a seedling, and the seed grew into a big, strong tree that kind of made the bike into a part of it. I think it’s a really good tile, because every time you’re making eggs or taking a shower, you could look down and be imparted with an important message about nature and resilience. I didn’t really have time to check if it was infinite or nonrepeating, but if you tried it out I bet it would be.

DOWNSTAIRS BATHROOM

The world’s first shape with the vague contours of a downstairs bathroom, this tile would be perfect for a downstairs bathroom. You could also put it in an upstairs bathroom, but it might confuse people. As a bonus, I have a strong hunch that it’s mathematically significant somehow.

Though I’m no “mathematician,” I do love shapes, and I love shapes that are also somehow Einstein, so it seemed like a no-brainer to give this one a try. Here are some of my proposals for new tile shapes, which I hope will be just as, if not more, revolutionary.

SQUARE

This one I’m thinking of calling a “square.”

IVORY TOWER

This shape is one of the most important ones, in my opinion. A striking form of protest against all the hoity-toity academics who claim that a shape needs to “be infinite” and “can’t repeat” in order to have “mathematical significance.”

SCREENPLAY FOR “MAZE RUNNER 2: THE SCORCH TRIALS”

If you wrote one letter on each tile, and maybe did a couple pictures, you could easily make a pattern that doesn’t repeat and basically goes on forever (2 hr 13 min runtime).

BIGGGG TILE

This tile is infinite and non-repeating because there’s only one of them in the whole pattern, because it’s soooo big. I don’t think anyone’s thought of this yet, but it could be a gamechanger.

THE BACK BURNER

Isabel Hardwig

Bad Habits Editor

THINGS THAT CAN BE PUT ON THE BACK BURNER

• Some soups

• Kettles, unused

• Almost all app ideas

• Kettles, in use while all other burners are taken

• Desire to hear the song “Mad World” by Tears for Fears

• Various credit card replacements

• Pasta water

• Getting your fshing permit

• Buying more shampoo while still in “dilution phase” of current shampoo

• Rabies sitch

• Skillet slightly too heavy to bother putting up

• Two marshmallow Peeps with toothpicks so it’s like they’re jousting

THINGS THAT SHOULD NOT BE PUT ON THE BACK BURNER

• Very involved chili

• Hand

• Determining if ghost in house is nice or scary

• The band The Killers, who explicitly asked you not to

• Class action lawsuit you forgot you were a part of

• Birth certifcate

• Copy of birth certifcate you had made for if you left the frst one on the back burner

• Determining if scary ghost in house can be appeased by scrambled eggs

• FUCK

• The scrambled eggs you were making for your scary ghost

• Kindling

• Climate change :(

• Pet ice cube

• Situations

The Interview of Ellens

Ellen Efstathiou Staff Writer

I got the opportunity to interview Ellen DeGeneres the other day. She’s been pretty quiet since getting canceled early in the pandemic, so I welcomed the chance to ask her what she’s up to. As a fellow Ellen, I’m always ready to meet more Ellens.

Ellen: Hi, Ellen, how are you?

Ellen: I’m Ellen!

Ellen: You know, I didn’t think “Ellen” could be an emotion, but now that you say that, it makes total sense. What have you been up to since the beginning of the pandemic?

Ellen: I’ve sold my house. I’ve also been used to roast Ryan Gosling in the Barbie movie.

Ellen: Ooh, exciting! I think. Anything else?

Ellen: Just getting canceled over old interviews. The usual.

Ellen: That makes sense.

Ellen: What do you mean by that?

Ellen: Do you want to hear a fun story?

Ellen: Sure.

Ellen: When I was in frst grade, someone asked me if my last name was DeGeneres, and I didn’t know who you were so I thought they were making fun of me by being like “oh you’re a generous person, is your last name DeGenerous”. Then later I learned who you were, and that interaction suddenly made sense.

Ellen: Really?

Ellen: Sure did! …

Ellen: So, what else are we going to talk about?

Ellen: Hang on, which one of us is talking now?

Ellen: What do you mean?

Ellen: There were ellipses. Either one of us could be talking right now. Or maybe there’s a new Ellen here.

Ellen: Hi!

Ellen: Ah!

Ellen: I bet it’s someone’s mom. I’ve met more people with moms named Ellen than Ellens themselves.

Ellen: I’m not a mom.

Ellen: Me neither. I guess we’re the exceptions.

Ellen: Hi, Ellen! It’s me, your ffth grade classmate Michael’s mom. My name is Ellen too!

Ellen: I’m the mom of some random person you met at college! I’m Ellen too!

Ellen: And I’m John Mulaney’s mom! I’m also Ellen!

Ellen: I’m the X-ray technician named Ellen you met when you were four! I might be a mom, I don’t know!

Ellen: I’m Ellen Pompeo! I am a mom and also a famous person!

Ellen: I’m the Ellen you met twice in one day at two diferent places when you were in kindergarten!

Ellen: I’m the other Ellen in your year at college!

Ellen: Okay, I think there’s too many Ellens here. To wrap up this interview, Ellen, are you excited about retirement?

All Ellens: I’m excited to see what the future has to ofer!

Ellen: Well, at least we’re all in agreement.

Illustration by Julian Crosetto and Derya Taspinar

Across

1. First name of SNL Trump impersonator

5. With a faint light

10. Nine digit numbers issued to U.S. citizens

14. “The Destroyer” in Hinduism

15. A French goodbye

16. A winter layer

17. Pork in a can

18. To lose brightness

19. Camel feature

20. Sleeping disorder

22. Abbreviation for Chicago airport

23. Live from New York, it’s…

24. Not following instructions

27. Saying of someone who’s been wronged

31. Right-leaning area

35. Monster that grows two heads when it loses one

36. Mormon home state

37. Text on a Kindle

38. Item belonging to actor Matt

41. Belonging to a Western Canadian province

45. What a company does to raise capital

47. Agents that take a cut of a client’s salary

52. An abbr. for a prescription

53. A survey about cultural awareness

54. Home to the world’s tallest building

55. First name of Fight Club star

57. Emerge

59. Music played at military funerals

60. A maize dough used for making tortillas

61. French novelist

62. Blackthorn fruit

63. Last name of “Heartless” artist

64. Midnight Cowboy conman

65. Cheers you hear in famenco

Down

1. Last name of Syrian president

2. 15th century Italian painter

3. Chain restaurant named after Bob ___

4. Personalized celebrity video message website

5. ___ Nabbit!

6. 1943 American musical-comedy flm starring Red Skelton and Eleanor Powell

7. A condo about 5-10 stories high

8. Rembrandt’s Dutch hometown

9. Delicious!

10. Last name of creepy Nickelodeon producer

11. Disney movie about jazz and death

12. Shorthand for war that took place from 1955-1975

13. Abbr. for nominal conditions in atmosphere at sea level

21. Small amount

23. Foretell the future with a crystal ball

25. When you will arrive 26. An unspecifed number

28. Determination

29. Hawaiian location 30. Disapproving sounds

31. Brooklyn-born spiritual teacher

32. Plural of 25 Down

33. Beaver constructions 34. Yell 39. Essential 40. Singular form of 10 Across 41. Fell dramatically 42. Nocturnal forest primates (somehow unrelated to 7 Down) 43. Secretly sending an email copy 44. Obtain just barely 46. Meadowsweets, a shrub family 48. Of his rocker 49. Stationary baseball for children 50. “The Raven” writer 51. What 7 Down and 42 Down have in common 52. Amount of matter 55. Luxury vehicle brand 56. “Black Beatles” frst name 57. Annual cost to borrow money 58. Environmentally friendly

Clues by Max Miller Staff Writer