KQED’s Arts & Culture desk brings daily, in-depth cultural commentary and coverage of the Bay Area with a mission to enrich lives and inspire participation. Who We Are
Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93
Everything about Jones was big: his stage presence, the intensity of his glance and the brilliance of his craft.
Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change?
Bold cabernet sauvignon wines made Napa Valley famous. Now, hotter temperatures are starting to damage the grapes.
This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years
Bacalhau Grill is a Little Portugal staple for salt cod, egg tarts and Brazilian steaks.
‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays
With prose that delves into harsh topics while retaining humor, Danticat proves she’s one of literature's most graceful voices.
The ‘Financial Activist’ and the Trillion-Dollar Discussion
Amidst a mass transfer of wealth from baby boomers, how can generations that benefit remain uncorrupted?
The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can’t Wait to Watch This Fall
Here are the new releases coming your way between now and Thanksgiving — award contenders, goofy comedies, romance and all.
Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big
Tacos El Rulas serves the East Bay’s largest tortas and most decadent loaded baked potatoes.
Funding for KQED Arts & Culture is provided by:
The William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, Akonadi Foundation, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, Yogen and Peggy Dalal, Diane B. Wilsey, the William and Gretchen Kimball Fund, Campaign 21 and the members of KQED.
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In 2023, Rae was awarded an SPJ Excellence in Journalism Award for Arts & Culture.","avatar":"https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/d5ef3d663d9adae1345d06932a3951de?s=600&d=blank&r=g","twitter":"raemondjjjj","facebook":null,"instagram":null,"linkedin":null,"sites":[{"site":"arts","roles":["editor"]},{"site":"news","roles":["editor"]},{"site":"pop","roles":["editor"]},{"site":"bayareabites","roles":["editor"]},{"site":"science","roles":["editor"]}],"headData":{"title":"Rae Alexandra | KQED","description":"Staff Writer","ogImgSrc":"https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/d5ef3d663d9adae1345d06932a3951de?s=600&d=blank&r=g","twImgSrc":"https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/d5ef3d663d9adae1345d06932a3951de?s=600&d=blank&r=g"},"isLoading":false,"link":"/author/ralexandra"}},"breakingNewsReducer":{},"campaignFinanceReducer":{},"pagesReducer":{"root-site_kqedarts":{"type":"pages","id":"root-site_22299","meta":{"index":"pages_1716337520","site":"root-site","id":"22299","score":0},"slug":"kqedarts","title":"Arts & Culture","headTitle":"Arts & Culture | KQED","pagePath":"kqedarts","pageMeta":{"sticky":false,"WpPageTemplate":"page-topic-editorial","adSlotOverride":"300x250_arts","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include"},"headData":{"title":"Bay Area Arts and Culture | KQED","description":"Discover the Bay Area's music, art, film, performing arts, literature, cultural commentary, and criticism through KQED's daily in-depth coverage.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Bay Area Arts and Culture | KQED","socialDescription":"Discover the Bay Area's music, art, film, performing arts, literature, cultural commentary, and criticism through KQED's daily in-depth coverage.","canonicalUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/arts","imageData":{"ogImageSize":{"file":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png","width":1200,"height":630},"twImageSize":{"file":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"},"twitterCard":"summary_large_image"}},"labelTerm":{"site":""},"publishDate":1681251591,"content":"\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-columns\">\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[{"blockName":"kqed/columns","attrs":{"heading":"top story"},"innerBlocks":[{"blockName":"kqed/column","attrs":{"heading":"","colSpan":"8","colSpanTablet":"6"},"innerBlocks":[{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardEditorial1","query":"posts?tag=featured-arts&queryId=176de6804b5","useSSR":true},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]}],"innerHTML":"\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n","innerContent":["\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">",null,"\u003c/div>\n"]},{"blockName":"kqed/column","attrs":{"heading":"More arts stories","colSpan":"4","colSpanTablet":"6"},"innerBlocks":[{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardMostViewedNumberless","query":"posts/arts,forum,news?category=arts&queryId=141321f4159","featureQuery":"posts?tag=featured-arts&queryId=141321f4159","useSSR":false},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]}],"innerHTML":"\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n","innerContent":["\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">",null,"\u003c/div>\n"]}],"innerHTML":"\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-columns\">\n\n\u003c/div>\n","innerContent":["\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-columns\">",null,"\n\n",null,"\u003c/div>\n"]},{"blockName":"kqed/email-signup","attrs":{"newsletterSlug":"arts"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardSeriesShowcase","query":"posts?program=rightnowish&queryId=69ae966252","title":"Rightnowish","sectionUrl":"/podcasts/rightnowish","buttonText":"More from Rightnowish","seeMore":false},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardSeriesShowcase","query":"posts/food,arts?tag=editorspick&queryId=1fbe23a6eb","title":"Editors’ Picks","sectionUrl":"/artseditorspicks","buttonText":"More Editors’ Picks","seeMore":false},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/section-overview","attrs":{"html":"Let’s be friends! Get daily Arts & Culture updates by following us on \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/kqedarts/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Instagram\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/kqedarts/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Facebook\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/KQEDarts\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Twitter\u003c/a>, or \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13883176/hey-bay-area-have-a-story-to-share-we-want-to-listen\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">contact us\u003c/a>."},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n","innerContent":["\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n"]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardSeriesShowcase","query":"posts/?tag=thedolist&queryId=6f08cd28e3","title":"The Do List","sectionUrl":"/thedolist","buttonText":"More from The Do List"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardSeriesShowcase","query":"posts/bayareabites,arts,food?category=food&queryId=fbf70f7871","title":"Food","sectionUrl":"/food","buttonText":"More from Food"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/ad","attrs":{"adType":"inHouse"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardsRecent","query":"posts/arts?tag=tmw-latest&queryId=68eb4ad2a5","title":"That’s My Word","sectionUrl":"/bayareahiphop","buttonText":"More Bay Area Hip Hop"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/section-overview","attrs":{"html":"KQED’s Arts & Culture desk brings daily, in-depth cultural commentary and coverage of the Bay Area with a mission to enrich lives and inspire participation.\u003cbr />\u003ca href=\"/arts/staff\">Who We Are\u003c/a>"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n","innerContent":["\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n"]},{"blockName":"kqed/ad","attrs":[],"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardSeriesShowcase","query":"posts?tag=rebelgirls&queryId=74098ead12","title":"Rebel Girls From Bay Area History","sectionUrl":"/rebelgirls","buttonText":"More about Rebel Girls From Bay Area History"},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/post-list","attrs":{"layout":"cardTextHeavyLarge","query":"posts/arts?&queryId=622ddda891","title":"More Arts","seeMore":true},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]},{"blockName":"kqed/funding-credits","attrs":{"text":"Funding for KQED Arts & Culture is provided by:\u003cbr>\u003cbr>The William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, Akonadi Foundation, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, Yogen and Peggy Dalal, Diane B. Wilsey, the William and Gretchen Kimball Fund, Campaign 21 and the members of KQED."},"innerBlocks":[],"innerHTML":"","innerContent":[]}],"status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1723587280,"format":"standard","path":"/arts","redirect":{"type":"internal","url":"/arts"},"audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-columns\">\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-column\">\u003c/div>\n\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cdiv class=\"wp-block-kqed-section-overview\">\u003c/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"label":"root-site","isLoading":false}},"postsReducer":{"stream_live":{"type":"live","id":"stream_live","audioUrl":"https://streams.kqed.org/kqedradio","title":"Live Stream","excerpt":"Live Stream information currently unavailable.","link":"/radio","featImg":"","label":{"name":"KQED Live","link":"/"}},"stream_kqedNewscast":{"type":"posts","id":"stream_kqedNewscast","audioUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/.stream/anon/radio/RDnews/newscast.mp3?_=1","title":"KQED Newscast","featImg":"","label":{"name":"88.5 FM","link":"/"}},"arts_13963884":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963884","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963884","score":null,"sort":[1725912624000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"san-jose-portuguese-restaurant-grocery-bacalhau-grill-brazilian-little-portugal","title":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years","publishDate":1725912624,"format":"standard","headTitle":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>In the heart of San Jose’s Little Portugal, a grocery store the size of a 7-Eleven features a wall of Ports and Vinho Verdes, stacks of garlicky linguiça and cases of imported cheese. But Bacalhau Grill isn’t just a specialty food market. If you peek over the shelves, you’ll see a full-fledged restaurant dining room with tables covered with checkered tablecloths. On a recent Friday afternoon, one diner was making quick work of a plate of picanha and fries while a couple split a pizza over a bottle of wine. A bakery display case was filled with flaky pastel de nata and Brazilian-style empanadas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s the most complete [Portuguese] market in California,” says owner Mauricio da Silva.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bacalhau Grill has been feeding the city’s Portuguese families since 1945, when the original owners, John and Lucile Rose, opened it under the name Trade Rite Market. The Brazilian component to the store wouldn’t be added until the late 90s. Over the years, the shop has also come to function as a cherished gathering place for the South Bay’s Portuguese and Brazilian communities.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003cb>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13904835']\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/b>\u003c/span>These days, San Jose is known as \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13904835/san-jose-immigrant-food\">one of the Bay Area’s most vibrant immigrant hubs\u003c/a>, with locally famous Vietnamese, Mexican and Ethiopian food scenes. In comparison, Little Portugal — and the fact that San Jose is home to one of the largest and oldest Portuguese communities on the West Coast — flies relatively under the radar. Davide Vieira from San Jose’s nonprofit \u003ca href=\"https://portuguesecenter.org/about/\">Portuguese Organization for Social Services and Opportunities\u003c/a> explains that California’s earliest Portuguese immigrants jumped off whaling ships and landed in San Francisco, lured by the Gold Rush, as early as the 1830s. The opening of the Five Wounds Portuguese National Parish in East San Jose in 1919 served as an anchor for the local Portuguese community. Around it, Little Portugal flourished with businesses like Trade Rite Market, which catered to some of San Jose’s earliest Portuguese families.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s one of the lone existing businesses from that era in Little Portugal,” Vieira says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963893\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963893\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront.jpg\" alt='Exterior facade of a restaurant and market. The sign above reads \"Bacalhau Grill.\"' width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The market’s original name was Trade Rite Market. It didn’t start selling Brazilian foods until the late 1990s. \u003ccite>(Octavio Peña)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The store was eventually passed down to John and Lucile’s son, Harold Vieira, and his wife Elaine. Since then, it has transferred ownership several times. Up until the ’80s, it was strictly a grocery store. The restaurant aspect, along with the name “Bacalhau Grill,” didn’t come about until after the business was sold out of the family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The restaurant is probably best known for its namesake dish, bacalhau, a salt cod many consider to be the national dish of Portugal. At Bacalhau Grill, you can select a precise cut of the fish at the butcher counter for use in home cooking, or enjoy it tossed with onions, garlic and peppers or coated in a bechamel sauce. The salting and drying procedure maintains the cod’s tender flakiness while concentrating its fishy flavor. The shop also operates a bakery where they make pastel de nata — bite-size tarts filled with caramelized egg custard.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Our shoppers are mostly Brazilian and Portuguese,” says restaurant manager Sidinaldo Silva. “A lot of people come for the market, but stop by first for lunch or dinner.” The menu is evenly split between Portuguese and Brazilian dishes, which share many similarities due to Portugal’s lengthy colonization of Brazil. Sidinaldo explains that Bacalhau Grill’s goal is to offer a more affordable dining experience compared to the area’s upscale Portuguese restaurants and Brazilian steakhouses. All of the food feels very much like you’re eating at someone’s house — it’s all served homestyle, with sides like rice and beans.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963890\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963890\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel.jpg\" alt=\"Cheesy fried pastry on checkered paper.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The chicken and cheese pastel is one of the restaurant’s popular Brazilian pastries. \u003ccite>(Octavio Peña)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>While you won’t see any servers walking around with a towering steak skewer, the restaurant’s Brazilian menu does revolve around picanha, a cut of sirloin with a fat cap. “We’re importing a lot of steak from Brazil. There’s so many Brazilian steakhouses around — we’re in the middle,” Sidinaldo says. “You can have a great steak at a fair price.” For a complete traditional meal, order the Brazilian Experience platter, which comes with picanha, toscana sausage, grilled cheese curds, fried yucca, fried banana and farofa. Another highlight is the chicken and cheese pasteles, a crackly pastry with an exterior similar to a bubbly fried wonton. Pair your meal with a can of Guaraná Antarctica, a popular Brazilian soda made from the seeds of the tropical guaraná fruit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003cb>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13961214,arts_13958172']\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/b>\u003c/span>Bacalhau Grill’s newest venture is the Brazilian pizzeria they opened inside the restaurant in February. The pizzas are topped with ingredients from Brazil like calabresa sausage and catupiry, a Brazilian processed cheese with a consistency similar to cream cheese. Another typical Brazilian pizza comes dressed up with corn, peas, palm hearts, oregano and olives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The shop also makes traditional fresh tropical juices, the most unique of which is made from cashew fruit. Its nutty flavor tastes a bit like a cross between bell pepper and mango.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If Little Portugal is a monument to the history of San Jose’s Portuguese community, then Bacalhau Grill serves as the neighborhood’s food-centric hub. It provides the flavors of home and a familiar place to sit down for a meal, for both recent immigrants and families who have been in the city for generations. And it also invites those who are unfamiliar with the cuisine to explore and try something new.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We aren’t only cooking for Portuguese and Brazilian people,” says Sidinaldo. “Everybody loves this food.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.bacalhaugrillsj.com/home\">\u003ci>Bacalhau Grill \u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>(1555 Alum Rock Avenue, San Jose) is open daily 9 a.m to 9 p.m. The kitchen opens at 11 a.m.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Bacalhau Grill is a Little Portugal staple for salt cod, egg tarts and Brazilian steaks.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725912624,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":16,"wordCount":1048},"headData":{"title":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Fed Portuguese Immigrants for 80 Years | KQED","description":"Bacalhau Grill is a Little Portugal staple for salt cod, egg tarts and Brazilian steaks.","ogTitle":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Fed Portuguese Immigrants for 80 Years %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"This San Jose Restaurant Has Been Feeding Portuguese Immigrants for Nearly 80 Years","datePublished":"2024-09-09T13:10:24-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T13:10:24-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"Food","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963884","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963884/san-jose-portuguese-restaurant-grocery-bacalhau-grill-brazilian-little-portugal","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>In the heart of San Jose’s Little Portugal, a grocery store the size of a 7-Eleven features a wall of Ports and Vinho Verdes, stacks of garlicky linguiça and cases of imported cheese. But Bacalhau Grill isn’t just a specialty food market. If you peek over the shelves, you’ll see a full-fledged restaurant dining room with tables covered with checkered tablecloths. On a recent Friday afternoon, one diner was making quick work of a plate of picanha and fries while a couple split a pizza over a bottle of wine. A bakery display case was filled with flaky pastel de nata and Brazilian-style empanadas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s the most complete [Portuguese] market in California,” says owner Mauricio da Silva.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bacalhau Grill has been feeding the city’s Portuguese families since 1945, when the original owners, John and Lucile Rose, opened it under the name Trade Rite Market. The Brazilian component to the store wouldn’t be added until the late 90s. Over the years, the shop has also come to function as a cherished gathering place for the South Bay’s Portuguese and Brazilian communities.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003cb>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13904835","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/b>\u003c/span>These days, San Jose is known as \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13904835/san-jose-immigrant-food\">one of the Bay Area’s most vibrant immigrant hubs\u003c/a>, with locally famous Vietnamese, Mexican and Ethiopian food scenes. In comparison, Little Portugal — and the fact that San Jose is home to one of the largest and oldest Portuguese communities on the West Coast — flies relatively under the radar. Davide Vieira from San Jose’s nonprofit \u003ca href=\"https://portuguesecenter.org/about/\">Portuguese Organization for Social Services and Opportunities\u003c/a> explains that California’s earliest Portuguese immigrants jumped off whaling ships and landed in San Francisco, lured by the Gold Rush, as early as the 1830s. The opening of the Five Wounds Portuguese National Parish in East San Jose in 1919 served as an anchor for the local Portuguese community. Around it, Little Portugal flourished with businesses like Trade Rite Market, which catered to some of San Jose’s earliest Portuguese families.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s one of the lone existing businesses from that era in Little Portugal,” Vieira says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963893\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963893\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront.jpg\" alt='Exterior facade of a restaurant and market. The sign above reads \"Bacalhau Grill.\"' width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Bacalhaus-Storefront-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The market’s original name was Trade Rite Market. It didn’t start selling Brazilian foods until the late 1990s. \u003ccite>(Octavio Peña)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The store was eventually passed down to John and Lucile’s son, Harold Vieira, and his wife Elaine. Since then, it has transferred ownership several times. Up until the ’80s, it was strictly a grocery store. The restaurant aspect, along with the name “Bacalhau Grill,” didn’t come about until after the business was sold out of the family.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The restaurant is probably best known for its namesake dish, bacalhau, a salt cod many consider to be the national dish of Portugal. At Bacalhau Grill, you can select a precise cut of the fish at the butcher counter for use in home cooking, or enjoy it tossed with onions, garlic and peppers or coated in a bechamel sauce. The salting and drying procedure maintains the cod’s tender flakiness while concentrating its fishy flavor. The shop also operates a bakery where they make pastel de nata — bite-size tarts filled with caramelized egg custard.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Our shoppers are mostly Brazilian and Portuguese,” says restaurant manager Sidinaldo Silva. “A lot of people come for the market, but stop by first for lunch or dinner.” The menu is evenly split between Portuguese and Brazilian dishes, which share many similarities due to Portugal’s lengthy colonization of Brazil. Sidinaldo explains that Bacalhau Grill’s goal is to offer a more affordable dining experience compared to the area’s upscale Portuguese restaurants and Brazilian steakhouses. All of the food feels very much like you’re eating at someone’s house — it’s all served homestyle, with sides like rice and beans.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963890\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963890\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel.jpg\" alt=\"Cheesy fried pastry on checkered paper.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Chicken-and-cheese-pastel-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The chicken and cheese pastel is one of the restaurant’s popular Brazilian pastries. \u003ccite>(Octavio Peña)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>While you won’t see any servers walking around with a towering steak skewer, the restaurant’s Brazilian menu does revolve around picanha, a cut of sirloin with a fat cap. “We’re importing a lot of steak from Brazil. There’s so many Brazilian steakhouses around — we’re in the middle,” Sidinaldo says. “You can have a great steak at a fair price.” For a complete traditional meal, order the Brazilian Experience platter, which comes with picanha, toscana sausage, grilled cheese curds, fried yucca, fried banana and farofa. Another highlight is the chicken and cheese pasteles, a crackly pastry with an exterior similar to a bubbly fried wonton. Pair your meal with a can of Guaraná Antarctica, a popular Brazilian soda made from the seeds of the tropical guaraná fruit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003cb>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13961214,arts_13958172","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/b>\u003c/span>Bacalhau Grill’s newest venture is the Brazilian pizzeria they opened inside the restaurant in February. The pizzas are topped with ingredients from Brazil like calabresa sausage and catupiry, a Brazilian processed cheese with a consistency similar to cream cheese. Another typical Brazilian pizza comes dressed up with corn, peas, palm hearts, oregano and olives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The shop also makes traditional fresh tropical juices, the most unique of which is made from cashew fruit. Its nutty flavor tastes a bit like a cross between bell pepper and mango.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If Little Portugal is a monument to the history of San Jose’s Portuguese community, then Bacalhau Grill serves as the neighborhood’s food-centric hub. It provides the flavors of home and a familiar place to sit down for a meal, for both recent immigrants and families who have been in the city for generations. And it also invites those who are unfamiliar with the cuisine to explore and try something new.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We aren’t only cooking for Portuguese and Brazilian people,” says Sidinaldo. “Everybody loves this food.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.bacalhaugrillsj.com/home\">\u003ci>Bacalhau Grill \u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>(1555 Alum Rock Avenue, San Jose) is open daily 9 a.m to 9 p.m. The kitchen opens at 11 a.m.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963884/san-jose-portuguese-restaurant-grocery-bacalhau-grill-brazilian-little-portugal","authors":["11903"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_12276"],"tags":["arts_22300","arts_10278","arts_1297","arts_16105","arts_1084"],"featImg":"arts_13963892","label":"source_arts_13963884"},"arts_13963948":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963948","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963948","score":null,"sort":[1725922720000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"actor-and-beloved-baritone-james-earl-jones-dies-at-93","title":"Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93","publishDate":1725922720,"format":"standard","headTitle":"Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93 | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":137,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>One of America’s most beloved actors, James Earl Jones, died Monday at age 93. He was at home in Dutchess County, N.Y. surrounded by his family, his longtime agent Barry McPherson confirmed to NPR.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to an illustrious stage career — which included roles in classics like \u003cem>Macbeth\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Othello\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Iceman Cometh\u003c/em> — Jones also had an extensive film career, appearing in \u003cem>Dr. Strangelove\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Field of Dreams\u003c/em>, and \u003cem>The Hunt for Red October\u003c/em>. He voiced Mufasa in \u003cem>The Lion King,\u003c/em> and as Darth Vader, he delivered \u003ca href=\"http://www.starwars.com/video/i-am-your-father\">the line that still sends shivers up the spines of \u003cem>Star Wars\u003c/em> fans\u003c/a>: “I am your father.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>James Earl Jones was born on Jan. 17, 1931, in Arkabutla, Miss. He was raised by his grandparents. When he was 5 years old, the family moved to a rural farm in Dublin, Mich. Jones said the move so traumatized him that he developed a severe stutter that continued until he was in high school.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was able to function as a farm kid, doing all those chores where you call animals,” he told WHYY’s \u003cem>Fresh Air \u003c/em>in 1993, “and I certainly let the family know what my needs were. But when strangers came to the house, the mute happened. I didn’t want to confront them and I wasn’t ready. I hid in a state of muteness.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Then a high school teacher found a way to help: “He one day discovered that I wrote poetry and he said to me, ‘This poem is so good I can’t believe you wrote it. The way you can prove it to me is to get up in front of the class and recite it by heart.’ And I accepted the challenge and did it, and we both realized we had a means — we had a way of regaining the power of speech through poetry.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And what a power it was. Jones’ baritone came complete with its own echo chamber. His voice became one of the most instantly recognizable in entertainment history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everything about him was big: his commanding stage presence, the intensity of his glance and his brilliance at his chosen craft. Woodie King Jr. is founder of New York’s New Federal Theater, which has been producing shows by and about African-Americans throughout its history. He first became aware of Jones in the early 1960s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was a young aspiring actor who had come into New York and he had all the elements of acting — physicality, vocal range, psychically in tune with what was going on,” King says. “And I wanted to be that kind of artist who had that kind of freedom with his instrument.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>King saw Jones’ critically acclaimed performance in a 1961 production of Jean Genet’s \u003cem>The Blacks\u003c/em>. He also worked with Jones in a 1968 Broadway production of Howard Sackler’s \u003cem>The Great White Hope\u003c/em>, based on the life of champion black boxer Jack Johnson.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was an unbelievable kind of performance,” King recalled. “It was an amazing metamorphosis, watching him transform himself into this vicious boxer.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jones won a Tony for that role, as well as an Oscar nomination for the 1970 film adaptation, and he won a second Tony in 1987 for his role in August Wilson’s \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His first film role was as bombardier Lothar Zogg in Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 classic \u003cem>Dr. Strangelove\u003c/em>. In 1972’s \u003cem>The Man\u003c/em>, Jones played the first Black president; in the 1974 black classic \u003cem>Claudine, \u003c/em>he played a garbage man who charms a date out of a welfare mom; and in 1989’s \u003cem>Field of Dreams\u003c/em>, he \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/z6U1p0hehtg?t=5s\">explained why people would care about a baseball diamond in an Iowa cornfield\u003c/a>. Jones \u003ca href=\"http://www.broadway.com/buzz/162156/tony-nominee-james-earl-jones-on-four-decades-of-great-performances-from-othello-to-the-best-man/\">has said\u003c/a> that one of his favorite roles was that of the South African reverend in \u003cem>Cry, the Beloved Country\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jones’ voice has pervaded pop culture: He’s the voice of CNN and Verizon, and even showed up on a few episodes of \u003cem>The Simpsons\u003c/em>, which managed to kid the actor about his kaleidoscopic work \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/PX05DJWNj3k?t=1m4s\">in one fell swoop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In his conversation with \u003cem>Fresh Air\u003c/em>, Jones remembered the beginning of his voice-over career with amusement. “I think the first commercials I did … they asked me to ‘just give us the sound of God.’ … They were not embarrassed about saying that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963951\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963951\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ.png\" alt=\"A Black man wearing a suit stretches out his arms and bows his head on stage, surrounded by applauding fellow cast members.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1330\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1536x1021.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jones takes a bow after his final performance in Broadway’s ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ in 2015. \u003ccite>(Grant Lamos IV/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>New Federal Theater’s Woodie King said Jones was a warm, somewhat shy man who was a powerful artist. He followed in the footsteps of actors like Sidney Poitier, Paul Robeson and Canada Lee, all of whom refused to be limited by the old stereotypical roles of butlers or buffoons. Jones saw theater as a place for all people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“What you have is a master craftsman at work,” King said. “He makes young people aware of the vast possibilities of this business when you are a craftsman. … The Broadway stage sees him as really colorless — not Black or white, but a brilliant artist.”\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Everything about Jones was big: his stage presence, the intensity of his glance and the brilliance of his craft.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725922720,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":18,"wordCount":900},"headData":{"title":"James Earl Jones Dies at 93 | KQED","description":"Everything about Jones was big: his stage presence, the intensity of his glance and the brilliance of his craft.","ogTitle":"Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"James Earl Jones Dies at 93 %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Actor and Beloved Baritone James Earl Jones Dies at 93","datePublished":"2024-09-09T15:58:40-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T15:58:40-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Allison Keyes, NPR","nprStoryId":"462417634","nprHtmlLink":"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/09/462417634/james-earl-jones-dies-at-93","nprRetrievedStory":"1","nprPubDate":"2024-09-09T17:14:22.954-04:00","nprStoryDate":"2024-09-09T17:14:22.954-04:00","nprLastModifiedDate":"2024-09-09T18:08:02.112-04:00","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963948/actor-and-beloved-baritone-james-earl-jones-dies-at-93","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>One of America’s most beloved actors, James Earl Jones, died Monday at age 93. He was at home in Dutchess County, N.Y. surrounded by his family, his longtime agent Barry McPherson confirmed to NPR.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to an illustrious stage career — which included roles in classics like \u003cem>Macbeth\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Othello\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Iceman Cometh\u003c/em> — Jones also had an extensive film career, appearing in \u003cem>Dr. Strangelove\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Field of Dreams\u003c/em>, and \u003cem>The Hunt for Red October\u003c/em>. He voiced Mufasa in \u003cem>The Lion King,\u003c/em> and as Darth Vader, he delivered \u003ca href=\"http://www.starwars.com/video/i-am-your-father\">the line that still sends shivers up the spines of \u003cem>Star Wars\u003c/em> fans\u003c/a>: “I am your father.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>James Earl Jones was born on Jan. 17, 1931, in Arkabutla, Miss. He was raised by his grandparents. When he was 5 years old, the family moved to a rural farm in Dublin, Mich. Jones said the move so traumatized him that he developed a severe stutter that continued until he was in high school.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was able to function as a farm kid, doing all those chores where you call animals,” he told WHYY’s \u003cem>Fresh Air \u003c/em>in 1993, “and I certainly let the family know what my needs were. But when strangers came to the house, the mute happened. I didn’t want to confront them and I wasn’t ready. I hid in a state of muteness.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Then a high school teacher found a way to help: “He one day discovered that I wrote poetry and he said to me, ‘This poem is so good I can’t believe you wrote it. The way you can prove it to me is to get up in front of the class and recite it by heart.’ And I accepted the challenge and did it, and we both realized we had a means — we had a way of regaining the power of speech through poetry.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And what a power it was. Jones’ baritone came complete with its own echo chamber. His voice became one of the most instantly recognizable in entertainment history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everything about him was big: his commanding stage presence, the intensity of his glance and his brilliance at his chosen craft. Woodie King Jr. is founder of New York’s New Federal Theater, which has been producing shows by and about African-Americans throughout its history. He first became aware of Jones in the early 1960s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was a young aspiring actor who had come into New York and he had all the elements of acting — physicality, vocal range, psychically in tune with what was going on,” King says. “And I wanted to be that kind of artist who had that kind of freedom with his instrument.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>King saw Jones’ critically acclaimed performance in a 1961 production of Jean Genet’s \u003cem>The Blacks\u003c/em>. He also worked with Jones in a 1968 Broadway production of Howard Sackler’s \u003cem>The Great White Hope\u003c/em>, based on the life of champion black boxer Jack Johnson.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was an unbelievable kind of performance,” King recalled. “It was an amazing metamorphosis, watching him transform himself into this vicious boxer.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jones won a Tony for that role, as well as an Oscar nomination for the 1970 film adaptation, and he won a second Tony in 1987 for his role in August Wilson’s \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His first film role was as bombardier Lothar Zogg in Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 classic \u003cem>Dr. Strangelove\u003c/em>. In 1972’s \u003cem>The Man\u003c/em>, Jones played the first Black president; in the 1974 black classic \u003cem>Claudine, \u003c/em>he played a garbage man who charms a date out of a welfare mom; and in 1989’s \u003cem>Field of Dreams\u003c/em>, he \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/z6U1p0hehtg?t=5s\">explained why people would care about a baseball diamond in an Iowa cornfield\u003c/a>. Jones \u003ca href=\"http://www.broadway.com/buzz/162156/tony-nominee-james-earl-jones-on-four-decades-of-great-performances-from-othello-to-the-best-man/\">has said\u003c/a> that one of his favorite roles was that of the South African reverend in \u003cem>Cry, the Beloved Country\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jones’ voice has pervaded pop culture: He’s the voice of CNN and Verizon, and even showed up on a few episodes of \u003cem>The Simpsons\u003c/em>, which managed to kid the actor about his kaleidoscopic work \u003ca href=\"https://youtu.be/PX05DJWNj3k?t=1m4s\">in one fell swoop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In his conversation with \u003cem>Fresh Air\u003c/em>, Jones remembered the beginning of his voice-over career with amusement. “I think the first commercials I did … they asked me to ‘just give us the sound of God.’ … They were not embarrassed about saying that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963951\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963951\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ.png\" alt=\"A Black man wearing a suit stretches out his arms and bows his head on stage, surrounded by applauding fellow cast members.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1330\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1536x1021.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JEJ-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jones takes a bow after his final performance in Broadway’s ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ in 2015. \u003ccite>(Grant Lamos IV/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>New Federal Theater’s Woodie King said Jones was a warm, somewhat shy man who was a powerful artist. He followed in the footsteps of actors like Sidney Poitier, Paul Robeson and Canada Lee, all of whom refused to be limited by the old stereotypical roles of butlers or buffoons. Jones saw theater as a place for all people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“What you have is a master craftsman at work,” King said. “He makes young people aware of the vast possibilities of this business when you are a craftsman. … The Broadway stage sees him as really colorless — not Black or white, but a brilliant artist.”\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963948/actor-and-beloved-baritone-james-earl-jones-dies-at-93","authors":["byline_arts_13963948"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_74","arts_235","arts_75","arts_1564"],"tags":["arts_21789"],"affiliates":["arts_137"],"featImg":"arts_13963949","label":"arts_137"},"arts_13963901":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963901","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963901","score":null,"sort":[1725919031000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"can-the-most-popular-red-wine-in-the-u-s-endure-climate-change","title":"Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change?","publishDate":1725919031,"format":"standard","headTitle":"Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change? | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>In California’s Napa Valley, cabernet sauvignon is king.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The bold red wine has made the region world famous, with some bottles retailing at hundreds of dollars. But increasingly severe heat waves are taking a toll on the grape variety, especially in late summer during ripening. As temperatures keep rising, the wine industry is slowly confronting a future where Napa may not be the prime cabernet region it once was.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='quest_17385']In the face of climate change, wineries around the world are innovating. New technology is being installed to keep the grapes cool during heat spells. A handful of wineries are going a step further. They’re experimenting with new grapes, ripping out high-value cabernet vines to plant varieties from hotter climates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The goal is to find heat-tolerant grapes that blend well with cabernet, potentially making up for the flavors that cabernet could lack when temperatures get even hotter. While many bottles labeled cabernet are already blended with other grapes in small amounts, winemakers may need more flexibility in the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We know we have to adapt,” says Avery Heelan, a winemaker at Larkmead Vineyards in Calistoga. “We can’t just pretend that it’s going to go away, because all we see is each year it’s getting more and more extreme.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Still, blending with other grapes comes with risks. For a U.S. wine to be labeled cabernet, a bottle must contain 75% cabernet grapes or more. Any less, and it’s considered a red blend. Blends typically don’t command the same prices on store shelves as cabernet, especially since consumers are accustomed to picking U.S. wines by the name of the grape. Moving away from cabernet would be a major financial gamble for Napa’s multibillion-dollar wine industry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It is a big shift,” says Elisabeth Forrestel, an assistant professor of viticulture and enology at the University of California, Davis. “Without the market changing or demands changing, you can’t convince someone to grow something that doesn’t sell or doesn’t garner the same price.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963904\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963904\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis.png\" alt=\"A young man in a lab with rows of plastic test tubes in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-800x534.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1020x680.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-768x512.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1536x1025.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1920x1281.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">UC Davis research assistant Jacob Vito crushes cabernet sauvignon grapes from Napa Valley to analyze their chemical compounds. The lab is studying how heat is affecting the grapes. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Charbono, anyone?\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Some grapes growing at Larkmead Vineyards aren’t ones that many American wine drinkers would recognize. Long rows of vines are labeled: touriga nacional, aglianico, charbono and tempranillo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There’s not a huge market for a lot of these varieties,” says Heelan, walking among the vines on a hot summer afternoon. “We’re really choosing them not from popularity, but for their qualities.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Established more than a century ago, the winery is known for its bottles of cabernet sauvignon. These lesser-known grapes were planted only a few years ago, part of a research vineyard that took the place of cabernet vines.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Which most people would probably think is a little crazy, considering it’s 3 acres of perfect cabernet land,” Heelan says. “But certainly with the climate and how dramatically it’s changed over even the last 10 years, we really have to start adjusting.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963905\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963905\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker.png\" alt=\"A white woman with long brown hair stands in the middle of a vineyard.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1306\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-800x522.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1020x666.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-160x104.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-768x502.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1536x1003.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1920x1254.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Winemaker Avery Heelan is growing several rare grape varieties at Larkmead Vineyards in Napa Valley, in the hope that they’ll blend well with cabernet grapes as temperatures get hotter. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The vineyard is already at the hotter northern end of Napa Valley, but the extreme heat in recent years has been a wake-up call. A late-summer heat wave in 2022 hit temperatures just under 120 degrees at the vineyard, she says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When it gets that hot, the vines, they’re done,” she says. “They’re going to go dormant, and when that happens, they’re not ripening anymore.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13886632']In extreme heat, cabernet grapes can lose their rich color. They also dehydrate, wrinkling like raisins, which produces wines that are sweeter and more alcoholic. Heelan says the grapes that the vineyard is testing could provide an added boost of color or acidity to cabernet, helping balance out the wine when temperatures take their toll.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The experiment has its cost. In addition to the lost revenue from removing cabernet, grapevines take up to five years to produce their first crop, plus several more years for the wines to ferment. Heelan says only then will they start to see how the new grapes are performing. But the goal is to prepare the winery for the future, knowing that heat will likely get worse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Honestly, the more we experiment and learn about how to adapt, I think the wines are just getting better and better,” she says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963906\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963906\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine.png\" alt=\"Red wine is poured into a clear wine glass.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1330\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1536x1021.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In hotter temperatures, cabernet grapes lose their rich red color and produce sweeter, more alcoholic wines. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Where cabernet is king\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Farther south, Shafer Vineyards sits in the heart of Stags Leap, a Napa wine region that’s known for high-end cabernets. Winemaker Elias Fernandez says the grapes benefit from a cool evening breeze that blows in from San Francisco Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This summer, heat has already been a problem. July was the \u003ca href=\"https://www.ncei.noaa.gov/news/national-climate-202407\">hottest July on record\u003c/a> in California. Fernandez points to a grape cluster where small green grapes are nestled among larger purple ones.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is effects of the heat,” he says. “It’s not maturing, so this is where you lose some fruit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963907\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963907\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias.png\" alt=\"A man stands in front of a vinyard, green hills visible in the distance.\" width=\"1430\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias.png 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-800x1119.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-1020x1427.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-160x224.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-768x1074.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-1098x1536.png 1098w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Winemaker Elias Fernandez is installing new technology at Shafer Vineyards in Napa Valley to combat heat waves. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The damage isn’t too widespread this year, unlike in 2022. But with summers getting more intense, Fernandez says the winery is looking at technology to help the cabernet vines. They’re currently installing misters, which spray water into the air to cool the temperature.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a constant mist,” he says. “How many of you have been to a party where they have misters? Doesn’t that feel good? Well, that’s what the vines are feeling.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13917165']Still, using extra water is a challenge in drought-prone California, he says. Plus, the water droplets can concentrate the light on the grapes and burn them, so misters must be run until the sun sets to keep the droplets from collecting. But Fernandez says he’s hoping the misting will keep the cabernet vines producing at the highest level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think the first thing we’ll be doing is mitigation, hoping to keep it as the true varietal of Napa Valley,” he says. “That’s what we’re trying to do — is buy time and see what happens with this whole thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For now, he’s not considering planting other grape varieties. With wines that are priced at $100 and up, cabernet is central to their business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“For me, it’s hard to think that people are just going to throw cabernet out the door and plant something else,” he says. “I really do. It’s the king of the wines of the world.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch3>Wine regions are shifting\u003c/h3>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963908\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1402px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963908\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth.png\" alt=\"A white woman wearing round glasses stands in a room, looking serious.\" width=\"1402\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth.png 1402w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-800x1141.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-1020x1455.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-160x228.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-768x1096.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-1077x1536.png 1077w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1402px) 100vw, 1402px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Professor Elisabeth Forrestel is studying how Napa’s wine regions are shifting with climate change. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Elisabeth Forrestel is one person trying to understand the big swings in the temperature. In her lab at UC Davis, her research team is smashing Napa Valley grapes inside plastic bags. They’ll be analyzed at the molecular level to see how they change during the summer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Forrestel’s lab is gathering wine grapes from Napa Valley throughout the growing season, along with detailed temperature data, to see how the most crucial compounds for wine are affected by heat. Studies show the average temperature during the last 45 days of the growing season in Napa — when grapes ripen — has \u003ca href=\"https://doi.org/10.1002/joc.8162\">already warmed almost 3 degrees Fahrenheit\u003c/a> from 1958 to 2016. But it’s the intense heat waves that do the most damage to molecules that produce a wine’s color and aroma.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When you have these extreme heat events, you can have a lot of impact on the development of that flavor profile,” she says. “If it was just an average change, it would be a lot easier to manage.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='quest_19242']Forrestel is working on updating a central guide for winemaking, known as the \u003ca href=\"https://caes.ucdavis.edu/news/taking-climate-change-vineyards\">Winkler Index\u003c/a>. Developed in the 1940s, it shows the ideal locations to grow different varieties of wine grapes, based on how much heat they receive. Napa Valley was originally indexed for cabernet sauvignon, but this could shift as the climate gets hotter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With cabernet being the \u003ca href=\"https://www.oiv.int/public/medias/5888/en-distribution-of-the-worlds-grapevine-varieties.pdf\">world’s most widely grown wine grape\u003c/a>, cabernet vines are resilient to different temperatures, Forrestel says. It’s a question of whether Napa winemakers may need new strategies to keep it producing at such a high-quality level. Since grapevines last 50 years or more, winemakers are faced with making planting decisions today that will need to withstand a hotter future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Some of the paradigms in what you would plant need to shift,” she says. “People need to have different approaches so there can be more resilience and you can have more options.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963909\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 3007px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963909\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa.png\" alt=\"A vineyard.\" width=\"3007\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa.png 3007w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1536x1022.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-2048x1362.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 3007px) 100vw, 3007px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">To keep producing high-quality cabernets, Napa Valley winemakers may need to blend them with other grapes to balance out the effects of heat. But wines labeled as blends, instead of cabernet, often sell at lower prices. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Would you pay the same for a blend?\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Blending cabernet with other red grapes could be one strategy. But since U.S. regulations require any bottle labeled cabernet to contain 75% cabernet, at some point wineries may be looking at changing their labels to say “red blend.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We have a perception that a blend is not as high quality as getting that high-quality cabernet, and they’re not on the same price point, so it is a big shift,” Forrestel says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The challenge is particular to U.S. winemakers, since many other countries label their wines by region, instead of grape. The famed red wines from Bordeaux in France are already a mix of six grapes, including cabernet, so winemakers have more flexibility. \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2019/11/05/773097167/climate-change-is-disrupting-centuries-old-methods-of-winemaking-in-france\">Winemakers there have also struggled with heat\u003c/a>, so French authorities recently approved four more red-grape varieties for blending. Since the wines are labeled with Bordeaux, wine drinkers may not even notice the shift.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13963437']Wines in the U.S. are generally labeled by the grape variety, a system that was promoted when the domestic wine industry was growing in prominence decades ago. In an effort to compete with wines from Europe, some thought focusing on the grape variety would demystify wines for consumers and show the quality of American wines.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, that system may work against them. Cabernet sauvignon is the most popular red wine in the U.S., according to NielsenIQ. So Forrestel says consumers are also part of the solution by creating demand for wines that are better suited for a hotter climate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Be open,” she says. “Because I think it’s really easy to walk in and buy what you’re used to. And also, trust what you like and not what you’re told to like.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Climate change is affecting our food, and our food is affecting the climate. NPR is dedicating a week to \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/06/g-s1-19303/food-climate-solutions\">stories and conversations about the search for solutions\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Bold cabernet sauvignon wines made Napa Valley famous. Now, hotter temperatures are starting to damage the grapes.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725919031,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":40,"wordCount":1975},"headData":{"title":"How Napa Valley Winemakers are Adapting to Climate Change | KQED","description":"Bold cabernet sauvignon wines made Napa Valley famous. Now, hotter temperatures are starting to damage the grapes.","ogTitle":"Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change?","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change?","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"How Napa Valley Winemakers are Adapting to Climate Change %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Can the Most Popular Red Wine in the U.S. Endure Climate Change?","datePublished":"2024-09-09T14:57:11-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T14:57:11-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"Food","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","sticky":false,"nprByline":"Lauren Sommer, NPR","nprStoryId":"nx-s1-5002055","nprHtmlLink":"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/09/nx-s1-5002055/wine-cabernet-napa-climate-change","nprRetrievedStory":"1","nprPubDate":"2024-09-09T06:00:00-04:00","nprStoryDate":"2024-09-09T06:00:00-04:00","nprLastModifiedDate":"2024-09-09T14:55:13.726-04:00","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963901/can-the-most-popular-red-wine-in-the-u-s-endure-climate-change","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>In California’s Napa Valley, cabernet sauvignon is king.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The bold red wine has made the region world famous, with some bottles retailing at hundreds of dollars. But increasingly severe heat waves are taking a toll on the grape variety, especially in late summer during ripening. As temperatures keep rising, the wine industry is slowly confronting a future where Napa may not be the prime cabernet region it once was.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"quest_17385","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In the face of climate change, wineries around the world are innovating. New technology is being installed to keep the grapes cool during heat spells. A handful of wineries are going a step further. They’re experimenting with new grapes, ripping out high-value cabernet vines to plant varieties from hotter climates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The goal is to find heat-tolerant grapes that blend well with cabernet, potentially making up for the flavors that cabernet could lack when temperatures get even hotter. While many bottles labeled cabernet are already blended with other grapes in small amounts, winemakers may need more flexibility in the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We know we have to adapt,” says Avery Heelan, a winemaker at Larkmead Vineyards in Calistoga. “We can’t just pretend that it’s going to go away, because all we see is each year it’s getting more and more extreme.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Still, blending with other grapes comes with risks. For a U.S. wine to be labeled cabernet, a bottle must contain 75% cabernet grapes or more. Any less, and it’s considered a red blend. Blends typically don’t command the same prices on store shelves as cabernet, especially since consumers are accustomed to picking U.S. wines by the name of the grape. Moving away from cabernet would be a major financial gamble for Napa’s multibillion-dollar wine industry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It is a big shift,” says Elisabeth Forrestel, an assistant professor of viticulture and enology at the University of California, Davis. “Without the market changing or demands changing, you can’t convince someone to grow something that doesn’t sell or doesn’t garner the same price.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963904\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963904\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis.png\" alt=\"A young man in a lab with rows of plastic test tubes in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1334\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-800x534.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1020x680.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-768x512.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1536x1025.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/davis-1920x1281.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">UC Davis research assistant Jacob Vito crushes cabernet sauvignon grapes from Napa Valley to analyze their chemical compounds. The lab is studying how heat is affecting the grapes. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Charbono, anyone?\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Some grapes growing at Larkmead Vineyards aren’t ones that many American wine drinkers would recognize. Long rows of vines are labeled: touriga nacional, aglianico, charbono and tempranillo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“There’s not a huge market for a lot of these varieties,” says Heelan, walking among the vines on a hot summer afternoon. “We’re really choosing them not from popularity, but for their qualities.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Established more than a century ago, the winery is known for its bottles of cabernet sauvignon. These lesser-known grapes were planted only a few years ago, part of a research vineyard that took the place of cabernet vines.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Which most people would probably think is a little crazy, considering it’s 3 acres of perfect cabernet land,” Heelan says. “But certainly with the climate and how dramatically it’s changed over even the last 10 years, we really have to start adjusting.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963905\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963905\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker.png\" alt=\"A white woman with long brown hair stands in the middle of a vineyard.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1306\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-800x522.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1020x666.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-160x104.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-768x502.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1536x1003.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/winemaker-1920x1254.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Winemaker Avery Heelan is growing several rare grape varieties at Larkmead Vineyards in Napa Valley, in the hope that they’ll blend well with cabernet grapes as temperatures get hotter. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The vineyard is already at the hotter northern end of Napa Valley, but the extreme heat in recent years has been a wake-up call. A late-summer heat wave in 2022 hit temperatures just under 120 degrees at the vineyard, she says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When it gets that hot, the vines, they’re done,” she says. “They’re going to go dormant, and when that happens, they’re not ripening anymore.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13886632","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In extreme heat, cabernet grapes can lose their rich color. They also dehydrate, wrinkling like raisins, which produces wines that are sweeter and more alcoholic. Heelan says the grapes that the vineyard is testing could provide an added boost of color or acidity to cabernet, helping balance out the wine when temperatures take their toll.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The experiment has its cost. In addition to the lost revenue from removing cabernet, grapevines take up to five years to produce their first crop, plus several more years for the wines to ferment. Heelan says only then will they start to see how the new grapes are performing. But the goal is to prepare the winery for the future, knowing that heat will likely get worse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Honestly, the more we experiment and learn about how to adapt, I think the wines are just getting better and better,” she says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963906\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963906\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine.png\" alt=\"Red wine is poured into a clear wine glass.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1330\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1536x1021.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/wine-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In hotter temperatures, cabernet grapes lose their rich red color and produce sweeter, more alcoholic wines. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Where cabernet is king\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Farther south, Shafer Vineyards sits in the heart of Stags Leap, a Napa wine region that’s known for high-end cabernets. Winemaker Elias Fernandez says the grapes benefit from a cool evening breeze that blows in from San Francisco Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This summer, heat has already been a problem. July was the \u003ca href=\"https://www.ncei.noaa.gov/news/national-climate-202407\">hottest July on record\u003c/a> in California. Fernandez points to a grape cluster where small green grapes are nestled among larger purple ones.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is effects of the heat,” he says. “It’s not maturing, so this is where you lose some fruit.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963907\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963907\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias.png\" alt=\"A man stands in front of a vinyard, green hills visible in the distance.\" width=\"1430\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias.png 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-800x1119.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-1020x1427.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-160x224.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-768x1074.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elias-1098x1536.png 1098w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Winemaker Elias Fernandez is installing new technology at Shafer Vineyards in Napa Valley to combat heat waves. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The damage isn’t too widespread this year, unlike in 2022. But with summers getting more intense, Fernandez says the winery is looking at technology to help the cabernet vines. They’re currently installing misters, which spray water into the air to cool the temperature.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a constant mist,” he says. “How many of you have been to a party where they have misters? Doesn’t that feel good? Well, that’s what the vines are feeling.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13917165","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Still, using extra water is a challenge in drought-prone California, he says. Plus, the water droplets can concentrate the light on the grapes and burn them, so misters must be run until the sun sets to keep the droplets from collecting. But Fernandez says he’s hoping the misting will keep the cabernet vines producing at the highest level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think the first thing we’ll be doing is mitigation, hoping to keep it as the true varietal of Napa Valley,” he says. “That’s what we’re trying to do — is buy time and see what happens with this whole thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For now, he’s not considering planting other grape varieties. With wines that are priced at $100 and up, cabernet is central to their business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“For me, it’s hard to think that people are just going to throw cabernet out the door and plant something else,” he says. “I really do. It’s the king of the wines of the world.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch3>Wine regions are shifting\u003c/h3>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963908\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1402px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963908\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth.png\" alt=\"A white woman wearing round glasses stands in a room, looking serious.\" width=\"1402\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth.png 1402w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-800x1141.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-1020x1455.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-160x228.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-768x1096.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/elisabeth-1077x1536.png 1077w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1402px) 100vw, 1402px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Professor Elisabeth Forrestel is studying how Napa’s wine regions are shifting with climate change. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Elisabeth Forrestel is one person trying to understand the big swings in the temperature. In her lab at UC Davis, her research team is smashing Napa Valley grapes inside plastic bags. They’ll be analyzed at the molecular level to see how they change during the summer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Forrestel’s lab is gathering wine grapes from Napa Valley throughout the growing season, along with detailed temperature data, to see how the most crucial compounds for wine are affected by heat. Studies show the average temperature during the last 45 days of the growing season in Napa — when grapes ripen — has \u003ca href=\"https://doi.org/10.1002/joc.8162\">already warmed almost 3 degrees Fahrenheit\u003c/a> from 1958 to 2016. But it’s the intense heat waves that do the most damage to molecules that produce a wine’s color and aroma.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“When you have these extreme heat events, you can have a lot of impact on the development of that flavor profile,” she says. “If it was just an average change, it would be a lot easier to manage.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"quest_19242","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Forrestel is working on updating a central guide for winemaking, known as the \u003ca href=\"https://caes.ucdavis.edu/news/taking-climate-change-vineyards\">Winkler Index\u003c/a>. Developed in the 1940s, it shows the ideal locations to grow different varieties of wine grapes, based on how much heat they receive. Napa Valley was originally indexed for cabernet sauvignon, but this could shift as the climate gets hotter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With cabernet being the \u003ca href=\"https://www.oiv.int/public/medias/5888/en-distribution-of-the-worlds-grapevine-varieties.pdf\">world’s most widely grown wine grape\u003c/a>, cabernet vines are resilient to different temperatures, Forrestel says. It’s a question of whether Napa winemakers may need new strategies to keep it producing at such a high-quality level. Since grapevines last 50 years or more, winemakers are faced with making planting decisions today that will need to withstand a hotter future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Some of the paradigms in what you would plant need to shift,” she says. “People need to have different approaches so there can be more resilience and you can have more options.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963909\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 3007px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963909\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa.png\" alt=\"A vineyard.\" width=\"3007\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa.png 3007w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-800x532.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1020x678.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-160x106.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-768x511.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1536x1022.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-2048x1362.png 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/napa-1920x1277.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 3007px) 100vw, 3007px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">To keep producing high-quality cabernets, Napa Valley winemakers may need to blend them with other grapes to balance out the effects of heat. But wines labeled as blends, instead of cabernet, often sell at lower prices. \u003ccite>(Ryan Kellman/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch3>Would you pay the same for a blend?\u003c/h3>\n\u003cp>Blending cabernet with other red grapes could be one strategy. But since U.S. regulations require any bottle labeled cabernet to contain 75% cabernet, at some point wineries may be looking at changing their labels to say “red blend.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We have a perception that a blend is not as high quality as getting that high-quality cabernet, and they’re not on the same price point, so it is a big shift,” Forrestel says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The challenge is particular to U.S. winemakers, since many other countries label their wines by region, instead of grape. The famed red wines from Bordeaux in France are already a mix of six grapes, including cabernet, so winemakers have more flexibility. \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2019/11/05/773097167/climate-change-is-disrupting-centuries-old-methods-of-winemaking-in-france\">Winemakers there have also struggled with heat\u003c/a>, so French authorities recently approved four more red-grape varieties for blending. Since the wines are labeled with Bordeaux, wine drinkers may not even notice the shift.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963437","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Wines in the U.S. are generally labeled by the grape variety, a system that was promoted when the domestic wine industry was growing in prominence decades ago. In an effort to compete with wines from Europe, some thought focusing on the grape variety would demystify wines for consumers and show the quality of American wines.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, that system may work against them. Cabernet sauvignon is the most popular red wine in the U.S., according to NielsenIQ. So Forrestel says consumers are also part of the solution by creating demand for wines that are better suited for a hotter climate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Be open,” she says. “Because I think it’s really easy to walk in and buy what you’re used to. And also, trust what you like and not what you’re told to like.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Climate change is affecting our food, and our food is affecting the climate. NPR is dedicating a week to \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/06/g-s1-19303/food-climate-solutions\">stories and conversations about the search for solutions\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963901/can-the-most-popular-red-wine-in-the-u-s-endure-climate-change","authors":["byline_arts_13963901"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_22184","arts_835","arts_12276"],"tags":["arts_1407","arts_8727","arts_7515","arts_22301"],"affiliates":["arts_137"],"featImg":"arts_13963903","label":"source_arts_13963901"},"arts_13963867":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963867","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963867","score":null,"sort":[1725902170000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"were-alone-edwidge-danticat-new-essay-collection-book-review","title":"‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays","publishDate":1725902170,"format":"aside","headTitle":"‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963868\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963868\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone.jpeg\" alt=\"A book cover featuring a photo of a Black woman standing in a body of water looking at artwork hanging from a clothes rack.\" width=\"1000\" height=\"1500\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone.jpeg 1000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-800x1200.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-160x240.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-768x1152.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat. \u003ccite>(Graywolf Press)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Reading Edwidge Danticat’s \u003cem>We’re Alone \u003c/em>is like sitting down to listen to an old friend. Personal, touching, rich in observations, smart, resonant, vibrant and complex, the eight essays that make up this collection open a door into Danticat’s past and present, her history and the history of Haiti, her relationship to worldly things and to the work of timeless writers. With clear, concise prose that delves into harsh topics without losing its sense of humor, Danticat once again proves that she is one of contemporary literature’s strongest, most graceful voices.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>We’re Alone\u003c/em> opens with a preface in which Danticat explains that, for her, writing essays is a quest for a very specific “kind of aloneness/togetherness, as well as something akin to what the Haitian American anthropologist and artist Gina Athena Ulysse has labeled \u003cem>rasanblaj\u003c/em>, which she defines as “assembly, compilation, enlisting, regrouping (of people, spirits, things, ideas).” That aloneness/togetherness is present in every essay. We all experience things differently, but the way Danticat talks about love, loss, migration, grief and injustice, to name a few, makes them feel patently universal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13960144']This short collection has no throwaways, but some standouts merit individual attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They Are Waiting in the Hills: Traveling with Lorraine Hansberry, Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, Gabriel García Márquez, Paule Marshall, and Toni Morrison” is, despite its long title, a wonderfully paced essay in which Danticat shares some of her own travels and experiences throughout her career while simultaneously entering into a conversation, full of admiration, with the authors named in the title. Danticat is an accomplished writer, but this essay is all about her love of literature and the way the work of others have impacted her and sometimes worked as a lens through which she could start processing various experiences.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In “This Is My Body,” we’re right there with the author two days before Christmas of 2017 as she ditches her car, runs away from a shooter at a mall and hides behind a bush. The shooting turned out to be one of many hoaxes perpetrated that year so people could steal from stores during the ensuing chaos, but for Danticat, recounting the experience is an excuse to get the conversation started. From there, the piece morphs into an essay about parenting, her own mother’s death from cancer, and how she tried to parent even from beyond the grave by leaving Danticat and her brothers a tape with instructions for life, including what she wanted the author to wear at her funeral. From there, the essay moves — smoothly, always — into a discussion of hunger and, among other things, the ethics of force-feeding at Guantanamo and a recognition of how the “grace of the young Parkland survivors, their eloquence, their efforts to include less privileged youth — among them young people of color whose communities are chronically and disproportionately affected by gun violence — has been especially eye opening.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“By the Time You Read This” is another marvel that seamlessly weaves together past and present while exploring the death of George Floyd, recounting the racism Danticat observed while riding New York City Transit buses, and then touches on the massive migration of African Americans from rural areas in the South to cities in the North of the United States.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13963659']The rest of the essays share the same shapeshifting nature. However, they do so while also containing at least one of the cohesive elements that make the book feel like a whole; history, family, racism, Haiti, migration, literature, etc. Danticat masterfully moves from one topic or idea to the next with the powerful fluidity of a raging river. From every Haitian being suspected of having AIDS to memories of the “ruthless Duvalier dictatorship,” every essay here contains at least a slice of history. From a discussion of temporary protected status for Haitians that turns into a conversation about rainbows to the many excerpts of poems and names that celebrate Black excellence throughout the collection — Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Audre Lorde, Gwendolyn Brooks, Nikki Giovanni, Maya Angelou — this collection shows exactly where Danticat fits, and just how much her work is in conversation with that of other giants.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>We’re Alone \u003c/em>accomplishes a lot, but perhaps the most important thing it does is that it manages to feel like an invitation from the opening pages. Yes, this is Danticat talking about racism and injustice while digging deep and showing us just how ugly humanity can be, but it’s also a collection full of hope and a celebration of writing. Ultimately, this is more than a collection of essays; this is an invitation. “You’re alone and I’m alone,” says Danticat in one way or another in every essay, “but if you join me, we can be alone together.” This beautiful invitation is one I encourage you to accept.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat is out now, via Graywolf Press.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"With prose that delves into harsh topics while retaining humor, Danticat proves she’s one of literature's most graceful voices.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725902170,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":11,"wordCount":880},"headData":{"title":"Book Review: ‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat | KQED","description":"With prose that delves into harsh topics while retaining humor, Danticat proves she’s one of literature's most graceful voices.","ogTitle":"‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Book Review: ‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"‘We’re Alone,’ but Together, in Edwidge Danticat’s Remarkable Essays","datePublished":"2024-09-09T10:16:10-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T10:16:10-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Gabino Iglesias, NPR","nprStoryId":"nx-s1-5100218","nprHtmlLink":"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/09/nx-s1-5100218/were-alone-edwidge-danticat","nprRetrievedStory":"1","nprPubDate":"2024-09-09T09:00:00-04:00","nprStoryDate":"2024-09-09T09:00:00-04:00","nprLastModifiedDate":"2024-09-09T09:00:20.568-04:00","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963867/were-alone-edwidge-danticat-new-essay-collection-book-review","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963868\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963868\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone.jpeg\" alt=\"A book cover featuring a photo of a Black woman standing in a body of water looking at artwork hanging from a clothes rack.\" width=\"1000\" height=\"1500\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone.jpeg 1000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-800x1200.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-160x240.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/werealone-768x1152.jpeg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat. \u003ccite>(Graywolf Press)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Reading Edwidge Danticat’s \u003cem>We’re Alone \u003c/em>is like sitting down to listen to an old friend. Personal, touching, rich in observations, smart, resonant, vibrant and complex, the eight essays that make up this collection open a door into Danticat’s past and present, her history and the history of Haiti, her relationship to worldly things and to the work of timeless writers. With clear, concise prose that delves into harsh topics without losing its sense of humor, Danticat once again proves that she is one of contemporary literature’s strongest, most graceful voices.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>We’re Alone\u003c/em> opens with a preface in which Danticat explains that, for her, writing essays is a quest for a very specific “kind of aloneness/togetherness, as well as something akin to what the Haitian American anthropologist and artist Gina Athena Ulysse has labeled \u003cem>rasanblaj\u003c/em>, which she defines as “assembly, compilation, enlisting, regrouping (of people, spirits, things, ideas).” That aloneness/togetherness is present in every essay. We all experience things differently, but the way Danticat talks about love, loss, migration, grief and injustice, to name a few, makes them feel patently universal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13960144","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>This short collection has no throwaways, but some standouts merit individual attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They Are Waiting in the Hills: Traveling with Lorraine Hansberry, Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, Gabriel García Márquez, Paule Marshall, and Toni Morrison” is, despite its long title, a wonderfully paced essay in which Danticat shares some of her own travels and experiences throughout her career while simultaneously entering into a conversation, full of admiration, with the authors named in the title. Danticat is an accomplished writer, but this essay is all about her love of literature and the way the work of others have impacted her and sometimes worked as a lens through which she could start processing various experiences.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In “This Is My Body,” we’re right there with the author two days before Christmas of 2017 as she ditches her car, runs away from a shooter at a mall and hides behind a bush. The shooting turned out to be one of many hoaxes perpetrated that year so people could steal from stores during the ensuing chaos, but for Danticat, recounting the experience is an excuse to get the conversation started. From there, the piece morphs into an essay about parenting, her own mother’s death from cancer, and how she tried to parent even from beyond the grave by leaving Danticat and her brothers a tape with instructions for life, including what she wanted the author to wear at her funeral. From there, the essay moves — smoothly, always — into a discussion of hunger and, among other things, the ethics of force-feeding at Guantanamo and a recognition of how the “grace of the young Parkland survivors, their eloquence, their efforts to include less privileged youth — among them young people of color whose communities are chronically and disproportionately affected by gun violence — has been especially eye opening.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“By the Time You Read This” is another marvel that seamlessly weaves together past and present while exploring the death of George Floyd, recounting the racism Danticat observed while riding New York City Transit buses, and then touches on the massive migration of African Americans from rural areas in the South to cities in the North of the United States.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963659","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>The rest of the essays share the same shapeshifting nature. However, they do so while also containing at least one of the cohesive elements that make the book feel like a whole; history, family, racism, Haiti, migration, literature, etc. Danticat masterfully moves from one topic or idea to the next with the powerful fluidity of a raging river. From every Haitian being suspected of having AIDS to memories of the “ruthless Duvalier dictatorship,” every essay here contains at least a slice of history. From a discussion of temporary protected status for Haitians that turns into a conversation about rainbows to the many excerpts of poems and names that celebrate Black excellence throughout the collection — Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Audre Lorde, Gwendolyn Brooks, Nikki Giovanni, Maya Angelou — this collection shows exactly where Danticat fits, and just how much her work is in conversation with that of other giants.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>We’re Alone \u003c/em>accomplishes a lot, but perhaps the most important thing it does is that it manages to feel like an invitation from the opening pages. Yes, this is Danticat talking about racism and injustice while digging deep and showing us just how ugly humanity can be, but it’s also a collection full of hope and a celebration of writing. Ultimately, this is more than a collection of essays; this is an invitation. “You’re alone and I’m alone,” says Danticat in one way or another in every essay, “but if you join me, we can be alone together.” This beautiful invitation is one I encourage you to accept.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘We’re Alone’ by Edwidge Danticat is out now, via Graywolf Press.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963867/were-alone-edwidge-danticat-new-essay-collection-book-review","authors":["byline_arts_13963867"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_73","arts_835"],"tags":["arts_769","arts_585"],"affiliates":["arts_137"],"featImg":"arts_13963873","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13963667":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963667","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963667","score":null,"sort":[1725894005000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"jasmine-rashid-financial-activist-generational-wealth","title":"The ‘Financial Activist’ and the Trillion-Dollar Discussion","publishDate":1725894005,"format":"aside","headTitle":"The ‘Financial Activist’ and the Trillion-Dollar Discussion | KQED","labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963858\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963858\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1461\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-800x609.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-1020x776.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-160x122.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-768x584.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-1536x1169.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid wants to instill “financial activism” in those benefitting from generational wealth transfers. \u003ccite>(Techboogie)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>There’s a major shift of power happening right now, but it’s as subtle as grains of sand slipping from one half of an hourglass to the other. Individually, a single grain doesn’t matter much, but collectively, that mass of sand moving from one side to the other is a significant change.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The sand, in this example, is wealth subtly shifting from one generation to the next. Right now, baby boomers are either retiring or meeting their mortality. As they do, it’s predicted that upwards of \u003ca href=\"https://www.knightfrank.com/research/article/2024-02-28-how-will-millennials-spend-us90-trillion\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">$90 trillion\u003c/a> will be transferred to millennials and Gen Z.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Staggering as that number may be, the amount of money changing hands might not be the biggest part of the story. Whose hands that wealth lands in — \u003cem>that’s\u003c/em> the real story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the coming years, \u003ca href=\"https://www.forbes.com/sites/hollycorbett/2024/02/29/the-great-wealth-transfer-what-it-means-for-women-and-for-the-world/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">women are poised to gain more money\u003c/a>, resources and ownership than ever before. With that shift, this economy will become more inclusive, less extractive and all-around better for the well-being of workers, as well as the planet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963703\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1708px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963703\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1708\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-scaled.jpg 1708w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-800x1199.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1020x1529.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-768x1151.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1025x1536.jpg 1025w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1367x2048.jpg 1367w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1920x2877.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1708px) 100vw, 1708px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid. \u003ccite>(Maya Minhas)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This changing of the tide is what inspires Jasmine Rashid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The author of \u003cspan style=\"color: #339966\">\u003ca style=\"color: #339966\" href=\"https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-financial-activist-playbook-8-strategies-for-everyday-people-to-reclaim-wealth-and-collective-well-being-jasmine-rashid/20990999?ean=9781523006366\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\" data-saferedirecturl=\"https://www.google.com/url?q=http://jasminerashid.com/&source=gmail&ust=1725565371436000&usg=AOvVaw0wTozpJXIRYGjzK1Q6WE-v\">\u003ci>The Financial Activist Playbook: 8 Strategies for Everyday People to Reclaim Wealth and Collective Well-Being \u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"color: #000000\">\u003cb>(\u003c/b>\u003c/span>Berrett-Koehler Publishers), Rashid says she was intentional about using the term “financial activist” in her book title.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>She knows the term has a certain connotation, especially here in the Bay. But that’s the goal: to show folks that they, too, are activists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid believes that benevolent changes can be made by everyday people being mindful about their finances, particularly women, in the midst of this great wealth transfer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mentioned alone, the word “financial” brings to mind business suits, stocks, bonds, equity and insurance. The term “activist” is tied to notions of freedom fighters, organizers and those who sacrifice themselves for the greater good.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But when combined, Rashid writes, the term “financial activist” refers to “anyone intentionally taking action in ways big and small to shift the flow of capital and power, resisting systems that cause harm to people and the planet for the sake of profit, and redesigning our relationships to money and one another.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This can take the form of a retail clerk who opens a bank account at a credit union, a content creator who’s critical of housing prices or even an artist who speaks about the billions of taxpayer dollars going towards government-sanctioned violence overseas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ultimately, a financial activist is anyone that’s aware of their spending habits, mindful of where their resources are going and an “expert in their own unique lived experience,” writes Rashid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Built as a resource for those who may not be wealthy but yearn for economic empowerment, the book is full of real-world examples to bring lofty financial concepts down to earth. At one point, Rashid references a diagram depicting a participatory budget drawn in chalk on the ground near Lake Merritt — literally bringing a massive idea down to ground-level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Finance,” Rashid tells me during a recent phone call, “has been designed to be inextricably inaccessible.” To combat that, Rashid — who works full-time in impact investing, has written for \u003cem>Forbes\u003c/em> and has a background in social change theory — explains it’s not about becoming financial experts, but simply rerouting our relationship with money.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963709\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1646px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963709\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1646\" height=\"1398\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed.png 1646w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-800x679.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1020x866.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-160x136.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-768x652.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1536x1305.png 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1646px) 100vw, 1646px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Financial Activist Playbook’ release is augmented with a playlist, sticker sheet, zine and more. \u003ccite>(Berrett-Koehler)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“It’s really about how we reclaim our agency and our nervous systems,” Rashid says, “in ways that make our relationship to money on an everyday basis more abundant, more relaxed and really reducing shame around conversations about money.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In doing so, she imagines a world where people don’t worry about tremendous amounts of debt; a world where, as a community, we aren’t burdened with a lack of affordable housing. “Both things have to happen at the same time,” says Rashid. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid’s book is centered around eight strategies: talking about money, banking on ourselves, flexing some buying power, giving (and receiving), showing up for one another beyond money, shifting budgets, leveraging the magic of investment and handling our business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The strategies are supported by anecdotal stories, interviews and research. Rashid, a Bangladeshi-American woman originally from New York and now based in Oakland, also relies on insight from her friend circle, as well as her own experiences in fiscal management.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Knowing that big change beings with the small grains of local movements, Rashid turns to Bay Area-based organizations, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.hellaheartoakland.com/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Hella Heart Oakland Giving Circle\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://sogoreate-landtrust.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Sogorea Te’ Land Trust\u003c/a>, as examples of groups thinking outside of the common flow of money to bring resources to the broader community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid’s book, released on Sept. 12, includes a set of thought-provoking questions for people to workshop for themselves, as well as a glossary for the litany of financial terms Rashid introduces to the reader throughout the book’s 230-plus pages.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963710\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1708px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963710\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1708\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-scaled.jpg 1708w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-800x1199.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1020x1529.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-768x1151.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1025x1536.jpg 1025w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1366x2048.jpg 1366w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1920x2878.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1708px) 100vw, 1708px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid. \u003ccite>(Maya Minhas)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Additionally, \u003ca href=\"https://static1.squarespace.com/static/652f60aa85bfd5678c240944/t/66a66edca2e4320b6f3d67ae/1722183446930/Discussion+Guide+Zine.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Rashid is offering a free zine\u003c/a> for those interested in the topic who might see the book’s price tag as a barrier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/book-launch-party-for-the-financial-activist-playbook-tickets-933081551037?aff=oddtdtcreator\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">On Sept. 12, Rashid celebrates her book launch at Kinfolx Cafe in Oakland\u003c/a>, where she’ll discuss the book and host an “offers and needs market” demonstration, where participants can gain an understanding of a different economic system. The event will also have \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13871703/photographing-oakland-one-portrait-at-a-time\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">a photo booth anchored by acclaimed photographer Lara Kaur\u003c/a> and a Just Economy Market, where participants can support small local businesses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid emphasizes that the tangible examples of thinking differently are a key component.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">“The reality is,” says Rashid, “that in order to move into a more equitable economy, we need to decentralize profit for the few and re-center well-being for the many.” It’s not about creating a utopia, she adds, but being grounded in reality. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked if this is about moving away from capitalism, she says, in short: yes. But it’s more nuanced than that. Ultimately, Rashid says, “I’m focused less on what we call it — capitalism, socialism or any other ism — I’m here to make sure everyone eats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For Rashid, it’s about finding a system that’s sustainable for the people and the planet. It’s about this massive wealth transfer, and having “a just transition” that brings about benevolent, long-term change. It’s about reminding people that as we work, pay bills and run this ratrace, we may feel as insignificant as a grain of sand trapped in an hourglass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But “because we interact with money on a daily basis,” Rashid says, “we can be activists.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Jasmine Rashid’s book \u003ca href=\"https://www.jasminerashid.com/\">‘The Financial Activist Playbook: 8 Strategies for Everyday People to Reclaim Wealth and Collective Well-Being’\u003c/a> is released on Sept. 12. Rashid’s book launch will be held at Kinfolx Cafe in Oakland that evening, from 6 p.m.–9 p.m. \u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/book-launch-party-for-the-financial-activist-playbook-tickets-933081551037?aff=oddtdtcreator\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Details here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Amidst a mass transfer of wealth from baby boomers, how can generations that benefit remain uncorrupted?","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725896474,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":30,"wordCount":1255},"headData":{"title":"The ‘Financial Activist’ and the Trillion-Dollar Discussion | KQED","description":"Amidst a mass transfer of wealth from baby boomers, how can generations that benefit remain uncorrupted?","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"The ‘Financial Activist’ and the Trillion-Dollar Discussion","datePublished":"2024-09-09T08:00:05-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T08:41:14-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963667","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963667/jasmine-rashid-financial-activist-generational-wealth","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963858\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963858\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1461\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-800x609.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-1020x776.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-160x122.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-768x584.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/JasmineRashid-1536x1169.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid wants to instill “financial activism” in those benefitting from generational wealth transfers. \u003ccite>(Techboogie)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>There’s a major shift of power happening right now, but it’s as subtle as grains of sand slipping from one half of an hourglass to the other. Individually, a single grain doesn’t matter much, but collectively, that mass of sand moving from one side to the other is a significant change.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The sand, in this example, is wealth subtly shifting from one generation to the next. Right now, baby boomers are either retiring or meeting their mortality. As they do, it’s predicted that upwards of \u003ca href=\"https://www.knightfrank.com/research/article/2024-02-28-how-will-millennials-spend-us90-trillion\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">$90 trillion\u003c/a> will be transferred to millennials and Gen Z.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Staggering as that number may be, the amount of money changing hands might not be the biggest part of the story. Whose hands that wealth lands in — \u003cem>that’s\u003c/em> the real story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the coming years, \u003ca href=\"https://www.forbes.com/sites/hollycorbett/2024/02/29/the-great-wealth-transfer-what-it-means-for-women-and-for-the-world/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">women are poised to gain more money\u003c/a>, resources and ownership than ever before. With that shift, this economy will become more inclusive, less extractive and all-around better for the well-being of workers, as well as the planet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963703\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1708px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963703\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1708\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-scaled.jpg 1708w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-800x1199.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1020x1529.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-768x1151.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1025x1536.jpg 1025w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1367x2048.jpg 1367w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1920x2877.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1708px) 100vw, 1708px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid. \u003ccite>(Maya Minhas)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This changing of the tide is what inspires Jasmine Rashid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The author of \u003cspan style=\"color: #339966\">\u003ca style=\"color: #339966\" href=\"https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-financial-activist-playbook-8-strategies-for-everyday-people-to-reclaim-wealth-and-collective-well-being-jasmine-rashid/20990999?ean=9781523006366\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\" data-saferedirecturl=\"https://www.google.com/url?q=http://jasminerashid.com/&source=gmail&ust=1725565371436000&usg=AOvVaw0wTozpJXIRYGjzK1Q6WE-v\">\u003ci>The Financial Activist Playbook: 8 Strategies for Everyday People to Reclaim Wealth and Collective Well-Being \u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"color: #000000\">\u003cb>(\u003c/b>\u003c/span>Berrett-Koehler Publishers), Rashid says she was intentional about using the term “financial activist” in her book title.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>She knows the term has a certain connotation, especially here in the Bay. But that’s the goal: to show folks that they, too, are activists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid believes that benevolent changes can be made by everyday people being mindful about their finances, particularly women, in the midst of this great wealth transfer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mentioned alone, the word “financial” brings to mind business suits, stocks, bonds, equity and insurance. The term “activist” is tied to notions of freedom fighters, organizers and those who sacrifice themselves for the greater good.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But when combined, Rashid writes, the term “financial activist” refers to “anyone intentionally taking action in ways big and small to shift the flow of capital and power, resisting systems that cause harm to people and the planet for the sake of profit, and redesigning our relationships to money and one another.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This can take the form of a retail clerk who opens a bank account at a credit union, a content creator who’s critical of housing prices or even an artist who speaks about the billions of taxpayer dollars going towards government-sanctioned violence overseas.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ultimately, a financial activist is anyone that’s aware of their spending habits, mindful of where their resources are going and an “expert in their own unique lived experience,” writes Rashid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Built as a resource for those who may not be wealthy but yearn for economic empowerment, the book is full of real-world examples to bring lofty financial concepts down to earth. At one point, Rashid references a diagram depicting a participatory budget drawn in chalk on the ground near Lake Merritt — literally bringing a massive idea down to ground-level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Finance,” Rashid tells me during a recent phone call, “has been designed to be inextricably inaccessible.” To combat that, Rashid — who works full-time in impact investing, has written for \u003cem>Forbes\u003c/em> and has a background in social change theory — explains it’s not about becoming financial experts, but simply rerouting our relationship with money.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963709\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1646px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963709\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1646\" height=\"1398\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed.png 1646w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-800x679.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1020x866.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-160x136.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-768x652.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1536x1305.png 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1646px) 100vw, 1646px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Financial Activist Playbook’ release is augmented with a playlist, sticker sheet, zine and more. \u003ccite>(Berrett-Koehler)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“It’s really about how we reclaim our agency and our nervous systems,” Rashid says, “in ways that make our relationship to money on an everyday basis more abundant, more relaxed and really reducing shame around conversations about money.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In doing so, she imagines a world where people don’t worry about tremendous amounts of debt; a world where, as a community, we aren’t burdened with a lack of affordable housing. “Both things have to happen at the same time,” says Rashid. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid’s book is centered around eight strategies: talking about money, banking on ourselves, flexing some buying power, giving (and receiving), showing up for one another beyond money, shifting budgets, leveraging the magic of investment and handling our business.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The strategies are supported by anecdotal stories, interviews and research. Rashid, a Bangladeshi-American woman originally from New York and now based in Oakland, also relies on insight from her friend circle, as well as her own experiences in fiscal management.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Knowing that big change beings with the small grains of local movements, Rashid turns to Bay Area-based organizations, like \u003ca href=\"https://www.hellaheartoakland.com/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Hella Heart Oakland Giving Circle\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://sogoreate-landtrust.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Sogorea Te’ Land Trust\u003c/a>, as examples of groups thinking outside of the common flow of money to bring resources to the broader community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid’s book, released on Sept. 12, includes a set of thought-provoking questions for people to workshop for themselves, as well as a glossary for the litany of financial terms Rashid introduces to the reader throughout the book’s 230-plus pages.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963710\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1708px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963710\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1708\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-scaled.jpg 1708w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-800x1199.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1020x1529.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-768x1151.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1025x1536.jpg 1025w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1366x2048.jpg 1366w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/unnamed-1-1920x2878.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1708px) 100vw, 1708px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jasmine Rashid. \u003ccite>(Maya Minhas)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Additionally, \u003ca href=\"https://static1.squarespace.com/static/652f60aa85bfd5678c240944/t/66a66edca2e4320b6f3d67ae/1722183446930/Discussion+Guide+Zine.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Rashid is offering a free zine\u003c/a> for those interested in the topic who might see the book’s price tag as a barrier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/book-launch-party-for-the-financial-activist-playbook-tickets-933081551037?aff=oddtdtcreator\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">On Sept. 12, Rashid celebrates her book launch at Kinfolx Cafe in Oakland\u003c/a>, where she’ll discuss the book and host an “offers and needs market” demonstration, where participants can gain an understanding of a different economic system. The event will also have \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13871703/photographing-oakland-one-portrait-at-a-time\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">a photo booth anchored by acclaimed photographer Lara Kaur\u003c/a> and a Just Economy Market, where participants can support small local businesses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Rashid emphasizes that the tangible examples of thinking differently are a key component.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">“The reality is,” says Rashid, “that in order to move into a more equitable economy, we need to decentralize profit for the few and re-center well-being for the many.” It’s not about creating a utopia, she adds, but being grounded in reality. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When asked if this is about moving away from capitalism, she says, in short: yes. But it’s more nuanced than that. Ultimately, Rashid says, “I’m focused less on what we call it — capitalism, socialism or any other ism — I’m here to make sure everyone eats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For Rashid, it’s about finding a system that’s sustainable for the people and the planet. It’s about this massive wealth transfer, and having “a just transition” that brings about benevolent, long-term change. It’s about reminding people that as we work, pay bills and run this ratrace, we may feel as insignificant as a grain of sand trapped in an hourglass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But “because we interact with money on a daily basis,” Rashid says, “we can be activists.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Jasmine Rashid’s book \u003ca href=\"https://www.jasminerashid.com/\">‘The Financial Activist Playbook: 8 Strategies for Everyday People to Reclaim Wealth and Collective Well-Being’\u003c/a> is released on Sept. 12. Rashid’s book launch will be held at Kinfolx Cafe in Oakland that evening, from 6 p.m.–9 p.m. \u003ca href=\"https://www.eventbrite.com/e/book-launch-party-for-the-financial-activist-playbook-tickets-933081551037?aff=oddtdtcreator\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Details here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963667/jasmine-rashid-financial-activist-generational-wealth","authors":["11491"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_73"],"tags":["arts_10278"],"featImg":"arts_13963859","label":"arts"},"arts_13963828":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963828","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963828","score":null,"sort":[1725651495000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"best-movies-fall-2024-review-npr-wicked-beetlejuice-substance-wolfs-joker","title":"The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can’t Wait to Watch This Fall","publishDate":1725651495,"format":"standard","headTitle":"The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can’t Wait to Watch This Fall | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>School’s back in session, election season’s heating up, the leaves need raking, and you just want to get out of the house and escape, right?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ve got you covered. Everything from award contenders to goofy comedies, a smattering of romance, plenty of anti-heroes, even an animated musical documentary constructed entirely of LEGOs — all curated by NPR critics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll see you at the movies.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoZqL9N6Rx4\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,’ in theaters Sept. 6\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Look, who knows if this is gonna work? Plenty of directors have returned to their early films to see what, if any, gold remains to be mined. Sometimes they hit the motherlode (\u003cem>Mad Max: Fury Road\u003c/em>), other times the result is a cinematic cave-in (\u003cem>The Matrix Resurrections\u003c/em>). Director Tim Burton’s recent films have all displayed his trademark darkness, but it’s been years since we glimpsed the transgressive, anarchic humor he made his bones on. I’m pulling for him. It’s showtime.\u003cem> — Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0jwAP2fS1E\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘His Three Daughters\u003cem>,’ \u003c/em>in theaters Sept. 6, on Netflix Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The cast sells this one: Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen and Natasha Lyonne are each often the best thing about the projects they’re in. And here they are together, playing sisters who gather when their father is dying. It might not seem obvious to cast such different performers as family, but there is something about three singular women in the same film that makes a kind of sense. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luWZENFNxoU\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Meanwhile on Earth,’ in theaters Sept. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>In this moody, surreal French sci-fi film, a young woman grieves her beloved brother, who disappeared on a space mission three years prior. One night, she receives a message: a mysterious presence says it can return him to Earth… if she does it a small favor. It’s the latest from director Jeremy Clapin, whose unforgettable \u003cem>I Lost my Body\u003c/em>, about a severed hand’s quest to be reunited with its original owner, was nominated for an Oscar in 2020. \u003cem>Nous allons! — Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yvks3SeCDOs\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘My Old Ass,’ in theaters Sept. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>While hallucinating on mushrooms in her last summer before college, Elliott (Maisy Stella) is visited by her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza), blithely offering unsolicited advice: “I know mom can be annoying but be nice to her; hang out with your brothers; and avoid anyone named Chad.” That’s a cue for Percy Hynes White’s endearingly dorky Chad to make his appearance in Megan Park’s coming-of-age charmer. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GTL2q9ueI4\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘All Shall Be Well,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>A darling of the festival circuit, this Hong Kong drama follows Angie and Pat, a lesbian couple in their 60s who’ve been together for decades. When Pat suddenly dies, her family treats Angie with compassion — at first. Soon, questions over Pat’s estate cause a rift that endangers Angie’s ability to stay in the apartment they shared. Films tackling the intersection of queerness and aging aren’t exactly thick on the ground; early reviews say this one manages to be both sad and life-affirming. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9CmC5Rmsdw\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘A Different Man,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>This brutal psychological drama stars Sebastian Stan as an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a genetic mutation. To widen his casting opportunities, he undergoes facial reconstructive surgery – but when he encounters a fellow performer with the same medical condition (Adam Pearson), he’s forced to reckon with the choice he made. This may be one of the strangest and most challenging things you’ll watch all year, and it’s worth it. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNlrGhBpYjc\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Substance,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The body horror, the body horror! Coralie Fargeat’s latest film kind of sounds like a mad twist on \u003cem>Severance\u003c/em>: Demi Moore is an aerobics star who’s fired from her show for turning 50. She’s offered the chance to inject a substance that will transform her into a younger version of herself (Margaret Qualley). She must “switch” between her younger and older self every seven days, but — surprise, surprise! — things don’t go exactly as planned. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLJUPjiRbAM\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘WOLFS\u003cem>,’ \u003c/em>in theaters Sept. 20, on Apple TV+ Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>George Clooney and Brad Pitt have been making capers together since \u003cem>Ocean’s Eleven\u003c/em> in 2001. Now, they join up for an action comedy about two sketchy but efficient fixers. The only hangup is that they both work alone, but now they’re forced to work together. It’s a well-worn setup, and the result will depend on whether they can recapture the affectionate repartee one more time. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9_nPeKnpfE\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Megalopolis,’ in theaters Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Look, reportedly this whole production is deeply fraught — \u003ca href=\"https://www.theguardian.com/film/article/2024/may/14/has-this-guy-ever-made-a-movie-before-francis-ford-coppola-40-year-battle-megalopolis\">\u003cu>you can Google\u003c/u>\u003c/a> the \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/06/movies/francis-ford-coppola-megalopolis-godfather.html\">\u003cu>many reasons yourself\u003c/u>\u003c/a>. But the mere existence of a brand-new Francis Ford Coppola film in 2024 still has people talking. It’s a decades-long passion project with a stacked cast that includes Adam Driver, Giancarlo Esposito, Aubrey Plaza, Talia Shire, and Laurence Fishburne. And its CGI-heavy, time-traveling story looks truly out-there: Coppola reimagines the fall of Rome through the lens of a modern-day New York. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67vbA5ZJdKQ\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Wild Robot,’ in theaters Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Filmmaker Chris Sanders (\u003cem>How to Train Your Dragon\u003c/em>) has been telling interviewers that the computer-generated visuals in this tale of a shipwrecked robot named Roz (voiced by Lupita Nyong’o) who befriends an island’s critters and adopts an orphaned gosling, were inspired by the watercolor backgrounds in Bambi, and by the lush hand-drawn forests of Hayao Miyazaki. The idea was to place the high-tech protagonist of this ecological fable in an emotionally resonant wilderness. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OKAwz2MsJs\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Joker: Folie a Deux,’ in theaters Oct. 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The original \u003cem>Joker \u003c/em>was supposed to be a standalone film, but when it made a billion dollars, and Oscar-winner Joaquin Phoenix started dreaming about his deranged Arthur Fleck telling jokes and singing onstage, what’s a poor movie studio to do? Phoenix and director Todd Phillips conjured a story involving Fleck’s music therapist, Harley Quinn; Lady Gaga signed on to play her, and here we are. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY95YW-HVCM\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Platform 2,’ on Netflix Oct. 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Platform\u003c/em>, Spanish director Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia’s 2019 feature debut, was a nasty piece of work — an grisly anti-capitalist screed in sci-fi/horror clothing. In a tower prison, the residents of the top floors enjoy sumptuous meals served on a vast slab. But as that platform descends at designated intervals down through the tower, the lower residents fight over leftovers. No, it’s not subtle, as metaphors go, but I’m eager to see where a sequel takes us. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Bc6trBc1kc\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Piece by Piece,’ in theaters Oct. 11\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>“Y’know what’d be cool?” asks Pharrell Williams, channeling his “It might seem crazy what I’m ‘bout to say” opening lyric to “Happy” — “is if we told my story with LEGO pieces.” As he is LEGO-ized while saying this in Morgan Neville’s computer-animated documentary and is joined on several new songs by LEGO-ized Gwen Stefani, Justin Timberlake, Kendrick Lamar, Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z and Snoop Dogg, it’s hard to disagree.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZ9O_tl5Npk\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Saturday Night,’ in theaters Oct. 11\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Jason Reitman jumps back 49 years to revel in the nervous energy of Lorne Michaels, Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, Garrett Morris, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, and Jane Curtin on the eve of the very first broadcast of a little late-night comedy show they’d come up with. Interviews with the surviving principals inform the dramedy’s portrait of the hours leading up to those fateful words “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” on Oct. 11, 1975. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1HxTmV5i7c\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Anora,’ in theaters Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The first American film to win the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 13 years, Sean Baker’s comic drama follows New York sex worker Anora (Mikey Madison) as she impulsively elopes with Russian tourist Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), who’s eager to avoid deportation. The magic in their fairytale romance is challenged somewhat when Vanya’s parents swan in to try to get the marriage annulled.\u003cem> — Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBMXS32KOQ4\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Rumours,’ in theaters Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Guy Maddin makes movies (\u003cem>Careful\u003c/em>, \u003cem>The Saddest Music in the World\u003c/em>, \u003cem>My Winnipeg\u003c/em>) that are rich and strange — not necessarily in a crowd-pleasing way, but invariably in a me-pleasing way. He’s teaming with brothers Evan and Galen Johnson to write and direct this one, and the plot promises a big swing: World leaders attending the G7 conference get lost in the woods. I was all-in for this movie even BEFORE I found it stars Cate Blanchett and a giant brain. And now that I know that? All-innest! \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGXA1utDS_o\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Woman of the Hour,’ on Netflix Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut (in which she also stars) is based on the story of a serial killer who went on \u003cem>The Dating Game\u003c/em>. It’s a bizarre and unsettling story to say the least, and it got solid reviews at the Toronto International Film Festival last year. Kendrick is a more interesting actress than she’s sometimes given credit for, and she may be the same as a director. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963844\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963844\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel.png\" alt=\"Two young men gaze up at the sky.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1352\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-800x541.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1020x690.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-160x108.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-768x519.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1536x1038.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1920x1298.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Nickel Boys.’ \u003ccite>(L. Kasimu Harris/Amazon Content Services)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Nickel Boys,’ in theaters Oct. 25\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer winner about a Jim Crow-era reform school (based on Florida’s notorious Dozier School) chronicled the experiences of two Black teenagers — Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson) — as they try to survive the horrors and abuse of the school. RaMell Ross’ film will be the opening attraction at the New York Film Festival. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYPJIOF0ys4\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘A Real Pain,’ in theaters Nov. 1\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Kieran Culkin is fresh off a stunning performance in HBO’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/succession\">\u003cem>Succession\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, where he could be surprisingly sympathetic for a guy who was basically a sleazeball. Here, he joins Jesse Eisenberg, who also wrote and directed, to play cousins who join up for a trip in Poland. These are both actors who are just about always worth your time, and who doesn’t love a road trip movie? \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_id-SkGU2k\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Here,’ in theaters Nov. 1\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Director Robert Zemeckis never met a technological innovation he didn’t want to play with, from motion capture in \u003cem>Polar Express\u003c/em> to digital animation in \u003cem>Who Framed Roger Rabbit.\u003c/em> This time, he’s employing generative AI to face-swap and de-age his \u003cem>Forrest Gump\u003c/em> stars, Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, as they play characters from 18 to 80 in a story that chronicles events on a single plot of land. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3HupHq8-eE\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Emilia Pérez,’ in theaters Nov. 1, on Netflix Nov. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The word out of Cannes earlier this year, where it won the Jury Prize, was that Jacques Audiard’s musical comedy crime film is both exciting and polarizing. At the very least, the logline is compelling: Zoe Saldaña is a lawyer who’s roped into helping a ruthless cartel leader (Karla Sofía Gascón) fake her own death so she can undergo gender affirming surgery. Mentally prepare yourself now for The Discourse to come.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9i2vmFhSSY\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Heretic,’ in theaters Nov. 15\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Two young women, Mormon missionaries, greet a kindly older man who invites them inside his remote home for a sober discussion of the tenets of their faith. But this is an A24 horror film, so things don’t stay sober for long. The older man in question is played by a slyly sinister Hugh Grant, and his home is an elaborate maze made to test their faiths. I’m getting \u003cem>Barbarian \u003c/em>vibes from the trailer — and it’s not like that cardigan Grant’s wearing makes things any LESS creepy. Brrrr. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963845\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963845\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz.png\" alt=\"A woman runs through a station with a small boy.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1119\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-800x448.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1020x571.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-160x90.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-768x430.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1536x859.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1920x1074.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Blitz.’ \u003ccite>(Apple TV+)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Blitz,’ in theaters Nov. 1, on Apple TV+ Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Steve McQueen — that name alone should be enough to warrant attention. The \u003cem>Shame \u003c/em>and \u003cem>12 Years a Slave\u003c/em> filmmaker wrote and directed this historical drama, which has been described as an “epic journey” set during World War II. And it stars the always captivating Saoirse Ronan as a woman whose young son goes missing in the English countryside. Sign me up.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rgYUipGJNo\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Gladiator II,’ in theaters Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Two decades after the events depicted in Ridley Scott’s \u003cem>Gladiator,\u003c/em> Lucius, the little boy (grandson of an emperor) who cheered on Russell Crowe in the Colosseum, has grown up to be Paul Mescal and finds himself in much the same position. Enslaved, he’ll fight not tigers, but a rhinoceros, under the tutelage of power-broker Denzel Washington as he opposes a pair of cruel and capricious young emperors. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6COmYeLsz4c\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Wicked,’ in theaters Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Two witches — Galinda (Ariana Grande), bubbly and “popular,” Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), green and fragile — take on a duplicitous wizard (Jeff Goldblum) in this adaptation of the first act of the smash Broadway musical based on Gregory Maguire’s \u003cem>Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West\u003c/em>. It’ll be a long and winding yellow brick road (the second act arrives for Thanksgiving 2025). \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Here are the new releases coming your way between now and Thanksgiving — award contenders, goofy comedies, romance and all.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725651495,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":true,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":30,"wordCount":2532},"headData":{"title":"The Best Movies of Fall 2024, According to NPR Critics | KQED","description":"Here are the new releases coming your way between now and Thanksgiving — award contenders, goofy comedies, romance and all.","ogTitle":"The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can't Wait to Watch This Fall","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can't Wait to Watch This Fall","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"The Best Movies of Fall 2024, According to NPR Critics %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"The 25 Movies NPR Critics Can’t Wait to Watch This Fall","datePublished":"2024-09-06T12:38:15-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-06T12:38:15-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Aisha Harris","nprStoryId":"nx-s1-5075301","nprHtmlLink":"https://www.npr.org/2024/09/05/nx-s1-5075301/what-to-watch-best-movies-2024","nprRetrievedStory":"1","nprPubDate":"2024-09-06T09:00:00-04:00","nprStoryDate":"2024-09-06T09:00:00-04:00","nprLastModifiedDate":"2024-09-06T09:00:08.933-04:00","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963828/best-movies-fall-2024-review-npr-wicked-beetlejuice-substance-wolfs-joker","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>School’s back in session, election season’s heating up, the leaves need raking, and you just want to get out of the house and escape, right?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ve got you covered. Everything from award contenders to goofy comedies, a smattering of romance, plenty of anti-heroes, even an animated musical documentary constructed entirely of LEGOs — all curated by NPR critics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll see you at the movies.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/CoZqL9N6Rx4'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/CoZqL9N6Rx4'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,’ in theaters Sept. 6\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Look, who knows if this is gonna work? Plenty of directors have returned to their early films to see what, if any, gold remains to be mined. Sometimes they hit the motherlode (\u003cem>Mad Max: Fury Road\u003c/em>), other times the result is a cinematic cave-in (\u003cem>The Matrix Resurrections\u003c/em>). Director Tim Burton’s recent films have all displayed his trademark darkness, but it’s been years since we glimpsed the transgressive, anarchic humor he made his bones on. I’m pulling for him. It’s showtime.\u003cem> — Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/K0jwAP2fS1E'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/K0jwAP2fS1E'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘His Three Daughters\u003cem>,’ \u003c/em>in theaters Sept. 6, on Netflix Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The cast sells this one: Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen and Natasha Lyonne are each often the best thing about the projects they’re in. And here they are together, playing sisters who gather when their father is dying. It might not seem obvious to cast such different performers as family, but there is something about three singular women in the same film that makes a kind of sense. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/luWZENFNxoU'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/luWZENFNxoU'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Meanwhile on Earth,’ in theaters Sept. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>In this moody, surreal French sci-fi film, a young woman grieves her beloved brother, who disappeared on a space mission three years prior. One night, she receives a message: a mysterious presence says it can return him to Earth… if she does it a small favor. It’s the latest from director Jeremy Clapin, whose unforgettable \u003cem>I Lost my Body\u003c/em>, about a severed hand’s quest to be reunited with its original owner, was nominated for an Oscar in 2020. \u003cem>Nous allons! — Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/Yvks3SeCDOs'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/Yvks3SeCDOs'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘My Old Ass,’ in theaters Sept. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>While hallucinating on mushrooms in her last summer before college, Elliott (Maisy Stella) is visited by her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza), blithely offering unsolicited advice: “I know mom can be annoying but be nice to her; hang out with your brothers; and avoid anyone named Chad.” That’s a cue for Percy Hynes White’s endearingly dorky Chad to make his appearance in Megan Park’s coming-of-age charmer. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/4GTL2q9ueI4'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/4GTL2q9ueI4'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘All Shall Be Well,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>A darling of the festival circuit, this Hong Kong drama follows Angie and Pat, a lesbian couple in their 60s who’ve been together for decades. When Pat suddenly dies, her family treats Angie with compassion — at first. Soon, questions over Pat’s estate cause a rift that endangers Angie’s ability to stay in the apartment they shared. Films tackling the intersection of queerness and aging aren’t exactly thick on the ground; early reviews say this one manages to be both sad and life-affirming. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/_9CmC5Rmsdw'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/_9CmC5Rmsdw'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘A Different Man,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>This brutal psychological drama stars Sebastian Stan as an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a genetic mutation. To widen his casting opportunities, he undergoes facial reconstructive surgery – but when he encounters a fellow performer with the same medical condition (Adam Pearson), he’s forced to reckon with the choice he made. This may be one of the strangest and most challenging things you’ll watch all year, and it’s worth it. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/LNlrGhBpYjc'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/LNlrGhBpYjc'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Substance,’ in theaters Sept. 20\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The body horror, the body horror! Coralie Fargeat’s latest film kind of sounds like a mad twist on \u003cem>Severance\u003c/em>: Demi Moore is an aerobics star who’s fired from her show for turning 50. She’s offered the chance to inject a substance that will transform her into a younger version of herself (Margaret Qualley). She must “switch” between her younger and older self every seven days, but — surprise, surprise! — things don’t go exactly as planned. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/wLJUPjiRbAM'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/wLJUPjiRbAM'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘WOLFS\u003cem>,’ \u003c/em>in theaters Sept. 20, on Apple TV+ Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>George Clooney and Brad Pitt have been making capers together since \u003cem>Ocean’s Eleven\u003c/em> in 2001. Now, they join up for an action comedy about two sketchy but efficient fixers. The only hangup is that they both work alone, but now they’re forced to work together. It’s a well-worn setup, and the result will depend on whether they can recapture the affectionate repartee one more time. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/j9_nPeKnpfE'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/j9_nPeKnpfE'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Megalopolis,’ in theaters Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Look, reportedly this whole production is deeply fraught — \u003ca href=\"https://www.theguardian.com/film/article/2024/may/14/has-this-guy-ever-made-a-movie-before-francis-ford-coppola-40-year-battle-megalopolis\">\u003cu>you can Google\u003c/u>\u003c/a> the \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/06/movies/francis-ford-coppola-megalopolis-godfather.html\">\u003cu>many reasons yourself\u003c/u>\u003c/a>. But the mere existence of a brand-new Francis Ford Coppola film in 2024 still has people talking. It’s a decades-long passion project with a stacked cast that includes Adam Driver, Giancarlo Esposito, Aubrey Plaza, Talia Shire, and Laurence Fishburne. And its CGI-heavy, time-traveling story looks truly out-there: Coppola reimagines the fall of Rome through the lens of a modern-day New York. \u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/67vbA5ZJdKQ'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/67vbA5ZJdKQ'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Wild Robot,’ in theaters Sept. 27\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Filmmaker Chris Sanders (\u003cem>How to Train Your Dragon\u003c/em>) has been telling interviewers that the computer-generated visuals in this tale of a shipwrecked robot named Roz (voiced by Lupita Nyong’o) who befriends an island’s critters and adopts an orphaned gosling, were inspired by the watercolor backgrounds in Bambi, and by the lush hand-drawn forests of Hayao Miyazaki. The idea was to place the high-tech protagonist of this ecological fable in an emotionally resonant wilderness. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/_OKAwz2MsJs'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/_OKAwz2MsJs'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Joker: Folie a Deux,’ in theaters Oct. 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The original \u003cem>Joker \u003c/em>was supposed to be a standalone film, but when it made a billion dollars, and Oscar-winner Joaquin Phoenix started dreaming about his deranged Arthur Fleck telling jokes and singing onstage, what’s a poor movie studio to do? Phoenix and director Todd Phillips conjured a story involving Fleck’s music therapist, Harley Quinn; Lady Gaga signed on to play her, and here we are. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/cY95YW-HVCM'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/cY95YW-HVCM'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Platform 2,’ on Netflix Oct. 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Platform\u003c/em>, Spanish director Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia’s 2019 feature debut, was a nasty piece of work — an grisly anti-capitalist screed in sci-fi/horror clothing. In a tower prison, the residents of the top floors enjoy sumptuous meals served on a vast slab. But as that platform descends at designated intervals down through the tower, the lower residents fight over leftovers. No, it’s not subtle, as metaphors go, but I’m eager to see where a sequel takes us. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/7Bc6trBc1kc'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/7Bc6trBc1kc'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Piece by Piece,’ in theaters Oct. 11\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>“Y’know what’d be cool?” asks Pharrell Williams, channeling his “It might seem crazy what I’m ‘bout to say” opening lyric to “Happy” — “is if we told my story with LEGO pieces.” As he is LEGO-ized while saying this in Morgan Neville’s computer-animated documentary and is joined on several new songs by LEGO-ized Gwen Stefani, Justin Timberlake, Kendrick Lamar, Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z and Snoop Dogg, it’s hard to disagree.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/iZ9O_tl5Npk'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/iZ9O_tl5Npk'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Saturday Night,’ in theaters Oct. 11\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Jason Reitman jumps back 49 years to revel in the nervous energy of Lorne Michaels, Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, Garrett Morris, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, and Jane Curtin on the eve of the very first broadcast of a little late-night comedy show they’d come up with. Interviews with the surviving principals inform the dramedy’s portrait of the hours leading up to those fateful words “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” on Oct. 11, 1975. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/p1HxTmV5i7c'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/p1HxTmV5i7c'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Anora,’ in theaters Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The first American film to win the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 13 years, Sean Baker’s comic drama follows New York sex worker Anora (Mikey Madison) as she impulsively elopes with Russian tourist Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), who’s eager to avoid deportation. The magic in their fairytale romance is challenged somewhat when Vanya’s parents swan in to try to get the marriage annulled.\u003cem> — Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/wBMXS32KOQ4'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/wBMXS32KOQ4'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Rumours,’ in theaters Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Guy Maddin makes movies (\u003cem>Careful\u003c/em>, \u003cem>The Saddest Music in the World\u003c/em>, \u003cem>My Winnipeg\u003c/em>) that are rich and strange — not necessarily in a crowd-pleasing way, but invariably in a me-pleasing way. He’s teaming with brothers Evan and Galen Johnson to write and direct this one, and the plot promises a big swing: World leaders attending the G7 conference get lost in the woods. I was all-in for this movie even BEFORE I found it stars Cate Blanchett and a giant brain. And now that I know that? All-innest! \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/PGXA1utDS_o'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/PGXA1utDS_o'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Woman of the Hour,’ on Netflix Oct. 18\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Anna Kendrick’s directorial debut (in which she also stars) is based on the story of a serial killer who went on \u003cem>The Dating Game\u003c/em>. It’s a bizarre and unsettling story to say the least, and it got solid reviews at the Toronto International Film Festival last year. Kendrick is a more interesting actress than she’s sometimes given credit for, and she may be the same as a director. \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963844\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963844\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel.png\" alt=\"Two young men gaze up at the sky.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1352\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-800x541.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1020x690.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-160x108.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-768x519.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1536x1038.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/nickel-1920x1298.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Nickel Boys.’ \u003ccite>(L. Kasimu Harris/Amazon Content Services)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘The Nickel Boys,’ in theaters Oct. 25\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer winner about a Jim Crow-era reform school (based on Florida’s notorious Dozier School) chronicled the experiences of two Black teenagers — Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson) — as they try to survive the horrors and abuse of the school. RaMell Ross’ film will be the opening attraction at the New York Film Festival. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/nYPJIOF0ys4'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/nYPJIOF0ys4'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘A Real Pain,’ in theaters Nov. 1\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Kieran Culkin is fresh off a stunning performance in HBO’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/succession\">\u003cem>Succession\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, where he could be surprisingly sympathetic for a guy who was basically a sleazeball. Here, he joins Jesse Eisenberg, who also wrote and directed, to play cousins who join up for a trip in Poland. These are both actors who are just about always worth your time, and who doesn’t love a road trip movie? \u003cem>— Linda Holmes\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/I_id-SkGU2k'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/I_id-SkGU2k'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Here,’ in theaters Nov. 1\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Director Robert Zemeckis never met a technological innovation he didn’t want to play with, from motion capture in \u003cem>Polar Express\u003c/em> to digital animation in \u003cem>Who Framed Roger Rabbit.\u003c/em> This time, he’s employing generative AI to face-swap and de-age his \u003cem>Forrest Gump\u003c/em> stars, Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, as they play characters from 18 to 80 in a story that chronicles events on a single plot of land. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/t3HupHq8-eE'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/t3HupHq8-eE'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Emilia Pérez,’ in theaters Nov. 1, on Netflix Nov. 13\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The word out of Cannes earlier this year, where it won the Jury Prize, was that Jacques Audiard’s musical comedy crime film is both exciting and polarizing. At the very least, the logline is compelling: Zoe Saldaña is a lawyer who’s roped into helping a ruthless cartel leader (Karla Sofía Gascón) fake her own death so she can undergo gender affirming surgery. Mentally prepare yourself now for The Discourse to come.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/O9i2vmFhSSY'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/O9i2vmFhSSY'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Heretic,’ in theaters Nov. 15\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Two young women, Mormon missionaries, greet a kindly older man who invites them inside his remote home for a sober discussion of the tenets of their faith. But this is an A24 horror film, so things don’t stay sober for long. The older man in question is played by a slyly sinister Hugh Grant, and his home is an elaborate maze made to test their faiths. I’m getting \u003cem>Barbarian \u003c/em>vibes from the trailer — and it’s not like that cardigan Grant’s wearing makes things any LESS creepy. Brrrr. \u003cem>— Glen Weldon\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963845\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963845\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz.png\" alt=\"A woman runs through a station with a small boy.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1119\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz.png 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-800x448.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1020x571.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-160x90.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-768x430.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1536x859.png 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/blitz-1920x1074.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Blitz.’ \u003ccite>(Apple TV+)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Blitz,’ in theaters Nov. 1, on Apple TV+ Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Steve McQueen — that name alone should be enough to warrant attention. The \u003cem>Shame \u003c/em>and \u003cem>12 Years a Slave\u003c/em> filmmaker wrote and directed this historical drama, which has been described as an “epic journey” set during World War II. And it stars the always captivating Saoirse Ronan as a woman whose young son goes missing in the English countryside. Sign me up.\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>— Aisha Harris\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/4rgYUipGJNo'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/4rgYUipGJNo'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Gladiator II,’ in theaters Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Two decades after the events depicted in Ridley Scott’s \u003cem>Gladiator,\u003c/em> Lucius, the little boy (grandson of an emperor) who cheered on Russell Crowe in the Colosseum, has grown up to be Paul Mescal and finds himself in much the same position. Enslaved, he’ll fight not tigers, but a rhinoceros, under the tutelage of power-broker Denzel Washington as he opposes a pair of cruel and capricious young emperors. \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/6COmYeLsz4c'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/6COmYeLsz4c'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003ch2>\u003cstrong>‘Wicked,’ in theaters Nov. 22\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Two witches — Galinda (Ariana Grande), bubbly and “popular,” Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), green and fragile — take on a duplicitous wizard (Jeff Goldblum) in this adaptation of the first act of the smash Broadway musical based on Gregory Maguire’s \u003cem>Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West\u003c/em>. It’ll be a long and winding yellow brick road (the second act arrives for Thanksgiving 2025). \u003cem>— Bob Mondello\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963828/best-movies-fall-2024-review-npr-wicked-beetlejuice-substance-wolfs-joker","authors":["byline_arts_13963828"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_74","arts_75"],"tags":["arts_22281","arts_585"],"affiliates":["arts_137"],"featImg":"arts_13963846","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13961188":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13961188","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13961188","score":null,"sort":[1721296854000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"rightnowishs-grand-finale-words-of-wisdom-from-timothy-b","title":"Rightnowish’s Grand Finale: Words of Wisdom from Timothy B.","publishDate":1721296854,"format":"audio","headTitle":"Rightnowish’s Grand Finale: Words of Wisdom from Timothy B. | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8720,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">View the full episode transcript.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On this final episode of the Rightnowish podcast, we end back where we started — but with some pretty significant updates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the fall of 2019, renowned visual artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/timothyb_art/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Timothy B.\u003c/a> gave us the first full Rightnowish interview for an episode titled ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13868502/from-d-boys-to-dope-art\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">From D-Boys to Dope Art.\u003c/a>’\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During that interview, Timothy B. was flanked by his mother Dana Bluitt and his father Timothy Bluitt Sr. as he shared with us his perspective on mural making, community building and his work in Oakland. We also discussed how Timothy B.’s colorful paintings on the streets of the Town differ drastically from the work his father did in Oakland during the ’80s and early ’90s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Timothy Sr., a representative of East Oakland’s legendary 69 Mob, was incarcerated in a federal penitentiary for over two decades. During that time, Mrs. Bluitt held the family down. Timothy B. took notes from both his mother and father, and flourished because of the strength of his parents.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, five years after our last conversation on tape, Timothy B. is a father too. Stepping into parenthood has changed his painting schedule and personal priorities. But he remains creative.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13961247\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13961247 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56%E2%80%AFPM-800x1100.png\" alt=\"Timothy B. stands on a lift in front of a mural he painted at the East Oakland Youth Center dedicated to journalist and political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1100\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-800x1100.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-160x220.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-768x1056.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM.png 972w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Timothy B. stands on a lift in front of a mural he painted at the East Oakland Youth Center dedicated to journalist and political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of Timothy B. )\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In fact, having painted numerous murals around the Town and beyond, his work is getting out there more than ever. In Oakland, his work can be seen at places like the corner store on Grand and Ellita, as well as the broad side of buildings on 7th and Washington, 82nd and International, and 15th and Webster. He has more murals in the works, plus he’s expanding beyond walls: this past February, his designs were commissioned, printed on T-shirts and given away at \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C3RDwNIPJNl/?hl=en\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">a Golden State Warriors home game\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week, we discuss how Timothy B. has grown, and how Oakland has changed. And then Timothy B. gives us some advice on how to deal with major life transitions; advice I needed to hear as we end the Rightnowish podcast.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC4636659965\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s up Rightnowish listeners, I’m your host Pendarvis Harshaw.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are here. At the grand finale, the final episode of Rightnowish. We’ve had an amazing 5 year run, so much love, so many memories. Thank you all for rocking with us. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">To host an arts and culture show in the Bay Area, it’s been so dope, I haven’t fully processed it. But for now I can say that I’m extremely grateful…grateful for the emails, comments on social posts and conversations at bars and coffee shops…grateful that we’ve had the support from KQED and from the community…grateful to the people who shared their stories with us, and to everyone who listened. I could go on but, yeah, grateful. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That being said, to bookend this Rightnowish podcast, we’re going back to where we started: a conversation with the very first guest on the show– renowned visual artist, Timothy B. We caught up with him via zoom from his Oakland studio.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Timothy’s work can be found all around the Bay, and beyond. He’s painted images of community members, goddesses and of Huey P. Newton. His mural of the late Nipsey Hussle on Grand and Perkins in Oakland is a trademark piece. Another mural on a wall further down Grand pays homage to the memory of Nia Wilson, a young woman who was slain on a BART platform in July of 2018.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In the first episode of Rightnowish, Timothy B. and I discussed how his work on the streets of the town differs drastically from the work his father did. His dad, Timothy Bliutt Sr., is a factor from East Oakland’s legendary 69 Mob, and he also served a significant amount of time in a federal penitentiary. And from there Mrs. Dana Bluitt, Timothy B.’s mother, held the family down. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Which brings us to today– over the last five years a lot has changed for Timothy B. He’s a father now. So, for this final episode, we chop it up about Oakland, art and mental health, as well as fatherhood, personal relationships and the process of dealing with life’s big transitions.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As you might imagine, I could use that advice right now… ish. Yeah, more after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There we go, there we go, there we go, Timothy B! I’m really excited to talk to you today for a number of reasons, really because you were the first interview in the Rightnowish series. You started us off on a good note, and so much has changed over the past 5 years. And when I think of all the changes that you have experienced, the biggest one is fatherhood. And our past conversation was about family and your parents and how they poured into you, and how that shows up in your artistry and given your relationship with your parents, what does it mean to you to be a father now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, my son, he’s, he’s going to be the first to experience having a father and grandfather in I don’t know in how many generations, you know. So, you know, that’s power in itself. Because my father was incarcerated for 24 years of my life, to receive the opportunity to be a father now is monumental. I could give, ya know, my son, he’s…he won’t ever know what it’s like to not have a father around, you know? God forbid anything happens to me. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As you know, being a father yourself, I’m learning a lot around patience. Being a father is probably like, one of my hardest tasks, you know, just trying to balance everything. And I don’t cook to often, right? I think that’s probably like, my biggest challenge is just cooking different meals \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">that he would eat.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Gotta gotta learn more than just the spaghetti. I remember I stepped my game up. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m tired of having spaghetti, Dawg. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, for me, man, it’s mashed potatoes and broccoli \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> But that’s clutch, that’s clutch yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But yeah, it’s been an amazing journey so far. You know, just seeing how, how much joy he bring, not to just myself, but everybody around. I feel like he was just, he was brought at the perfect time. He gave my family hope. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You mentioned the balance, the balancing act and, I mean, you are a renowned artist. How has parenthood changed your schedule as an artist?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Considering that I have my son four days a week,\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t have much time to focus on my work like I used to. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When I’m off father-duty, I’m a lot more focused than I used to be. Whereas before I used to cat-off a little bit. But these days, time management skills is a lot much better, ya feel me? So, I think I’m a little more disciplined now than I was back then.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What are some of the things that you’re dealing with with life right now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B:\u003c/b> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s a trip because you know all these great things are happening in the art department. You know a lot of people, they see me accomplishing great things every month. I’m having unveiling, there’s a celebration, I’m being honored by The Warriors and Allen Temple Baptist Church and it’s just love being thrown my way, but at the, on the flip side of it, man I’ve been feeling like sh*t. I’m feeling terrible, you know, just for the reasons that my personal relationships to the people I love the most, you know are in sh*t. It’s like, I don’t know man. Just trying to find that balance. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s your method to the madness? How do you deal with it all? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Martial arts, you know, has really helped. I’ve been, you know, getting some sun. And also just accepting that people are going to feel how they feel, you know. Like, there’s nothing, you know, there’s certain things you just can’t do. You know, you can’t control how people think of you. You know, like, if your intentions is to do right by people, but they don’t, they can’t receive it for whatever reason, yo, that’s outside of you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But I’m learning, you know, these days to, you know, continue to just show the love that I want to receive and if they could receive it from you. Cool. You know, if they not, if they can’t, I’m still going to try to pour as much as I can. You feel me? But, you know, just set my boundaries to protect my heart. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, the last thing I want to do is like, be here, be out here angry or frustrated. You feel me? So, you know, as of late I’ve been, like, moving in gratitude. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You once told me that your artwork is an escape for you. Does it still provide that same escape? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah man, it really does. It really does. Because I mean, essentially, you know, I create worlds, you know whenever, you know, I’m logging into the arts, I’m in a whole different zone. Like, I’m in a whole different thinking space, \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Can you describe your style? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I think I have, like a Afro-futuristic, surrealist style. I love, like, a stylistic, illustrative type of art, you know, similar to, like, you know, like, comic book style. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m thinking of, like, I’ll read, like, you know, like the \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Black Panther\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">, the one that was written by Ta-Nehisi Coates.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I can’t think of who the illustrator is right now, but his work is is tight. You know, it’s like it’s highly detailed, kind of wanderlust. And whenever I think of my work, you know, I try to give that kind of a Candyland type feel, you know, but with, you know, a real sense of reality, \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That makes perfect sense. But I like what you say like surrealism, Afrofuturism, a little, you know, flavor to make it shine. And I could fully see that in your work, man. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m thinking about a design you did earlier this year that debuted for The Warriors during Black History Month, real big deal, man. Walk me through the process of designing that image. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I usually start with looking at different references. I would write down, like my intentions for the design, how I want it to feel, what I want it to represent. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That piece was like, it was themed around manifesting your life, your destiny, your dreams. And it was of a boy, you know, with his hands out and like his strength, his power is in his hands. Right? And my, you know, thinking about myself, you know, I’ve been able to manifest everything I want in life, you know, like I’m living the dream right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Man, it all came from my hands. You know, I’ve been able to travel the world. I’ve been able to buy the cars I want. I’ve been able to live in the space I want to live in. All because of these hands. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Behind him was, the elders, you know, that were standing together in prayer, praying over the boy. You know, I come from a big village as you know. My family has always been, ya know, real good at uplifting me in whatever I wanted to do. And, so, you know, that’s what that piece was about. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Having that image printed on hundreds of thousands of t-shirts inside of The Warriors’ Chase Center, what was it like for you to walk in that evening and see your art?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was unreal. I would say it was unreal. Like, I don’t even think it really like resonated until afterwards. It was a reminder that I’ve came a long way. You know, like I, you know, I remember, you know, being in college telling myself that one day all this is going to make sense. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So now, to be in this position where, like you say, I got t-shirts, I’m doing.. got t-shirts all over the arena, the Chase. You know, I could barely even afford to be in the arena but now, you know, I’m in partnership with The Warriors, you feel me. It was like, man, like, it’s just it’s euphoric. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You had your son with you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My son going everywhere with me. You feel me? Like he needs to know that anything is possible at a very young age.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What does it mean for someone to come up to you and compliment your work and give you your flowers? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What that means to me is that one… people, people see me. And that feels good in itself to be seen, to be recognized, and also to be appreciated for the things that you love to do that you think no one sees. It’d be one thing if I was out here popular for, like, putting out negativity. But when you’re not with that, when you out here putting, you know, spreading love, that’s what you receive. Everywhere you go is just love. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Beyond putting paint where it ain’t and just doing an immaculate job at it, you’re also the founder of Good Air Studios, where you host live events and workshops for artists. Bringing it back a little bit, the last time we talked you were at Mouse Cat, and five years, a lot has changed. How was Good Air different from Mouse Cat? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Mouse Cat, personal studio is just all about…it’s my living space, you know. This is where I create, where I sleep, you know, but I needed a space for the community. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For the longest time I’ve been doing this arts stuff, running this business by myself. I wanted to share this with other people. There’s a bunch of artists that look up to me and want to work by my side. And I want to be there to work in collaboration with them and teach them and learn from them. So I wanted to, you know, create a space for, you know, me and the community to connect and build. That’s how Good Air Studios came about. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For months, I was looking in this space, and I was just trying to, you know, figure out how I was going to pay that rent. So I reached out to all my closest friends and, you know, I pitched the idea to them, and then they believed in what I was talking about and now we here. \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We makin’ enough money to pay rent, you know, but that’s a milestone. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That’s gotta be dope to see it happening, the wheels are turning.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’ve been to the space it’s high ceilings, you know, like old warehouse just covered in art everywhere, the ping pong tables out front. You got the vibes and all of that is important. But the… what you just said beyond just the esthetics, this is about having space for creatives to come together. Why do you think that’s important for creatives in the Bay area right now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel like we as Black artists need a space for us, you know? And that’s what Good Air Studio is, you know? And it’s not just for Black artists, of course, but we are trying to encourage the Black community to come out and even those who don’t really draw like that and who want to learn, you know, we want to host workshops for them so they could develop the confidence to, you know, express themselves through that medium. We doing something really dope. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I feel like you personally, and also the larger ideas that come from you and your circle are very representative of creatives in the Bay Area right now. And also like, looking forward, I feel like y’all have a foot on the pulse of the now and also have some say in what’s to come down the pipeline.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And we’re coming to the end of producing this show. With that, there’s a slight relief that I don’t do the same thing over and over again and there’s some sadness of like losing this thing that I love, right? And you as a person who’s gone through some transitions in your life, what advice would you give to myself and the Rightnowish team as we go through this transition? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We all creatives here. So no matter what we doing, we are doing something..we gon do something dope. So I guess my advice is to, continue to move in purpose, you know, and continue to move, towards whatever it is that is fulfilling your spirit, you know, because that is the thing that is going to wake us all up. That’s the… you like, you starting this show, this is the thing that we all needed. We needed to hear these stories of, you know, all these local celebrities. We use these stories that just, you know, remind us of maybe what we doing or, maybe get an insight of, you know, what is out there. Yeah man, continue to explore and experiment, it will happen for you, I promise you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you. Thank you for sharing some insight into your life as a parent and also your life as an artist, man. And like, yeah, I can’t thank you enough because, you know, you changed the visual landscape at a place that we love. And that’s, that’s a hell of a task. So thank you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s this thing that happens in journalism sometimes, where the person you’re interviewing speaks your truths. And all you can do is nod in agreement as the tape rolls. Timothy B.’s thoughts on community interaction — how it’s fueled his art and community service, even while dealing with all that life can throw at him. Yeah, bingo. That’s been a big part of this Rightnowish experience. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So Timothy B, Thank you again for your words of wisdom, your story and your work. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">To keep up with Timothy B’s visual arts, live events and more follow him on Instagram at timothyb underscore art. That’s t-i-m-o-t-h-y-b underscore art. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And, wow…. for the last time here go the show credits:\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Marisol Medina-Cadena is the Rightnowish producer. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Some of the music you heard in the episode was sourced from Audio Network.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cbr>\nChris Hambrick and Chris Egusa edited this episode.\u003cbr>\nChristopher Beale is our engineer.\u003cbr>\nThe Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan and Katie Sprenger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Aight yall. This is the end. Thanks again. As a wise person once told me: keep it lit. Peace. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish is a KQED production.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Rightnowish ends its five-year run by checking back in with its very first guest, Timothy B. ","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1721343468,"stats":{"hasAudio":true,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":80,"wordCount":3587},"headData":{"title":"Rightnowish’s Grand Finale: Words of Wisdom from Timothy B. | KQED","description":"On this final episode of the Rightnowish podcast, we end back where we started and check in with renowned visual artist Timothy B., who was the very first Rightnowish guest.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"On this final episode of the Rightnowish podcast, we end back where we started and check in with renowned visual artist Timothy B., who was the very first Rightnowish guest.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Rightnowish’s Grand Finale: Words of Wisdom from Timothy B.","datePublished":"2024-07-18T03:00:54-07:00","dateModified":"2024-07-18T15:57:48-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC4636659965.mp3?updated=1721260825","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13961188","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13961188/rightnowishs-grand-finale-words-of-wisdom-from-timothy-b","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">View the full episode transcript.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On this final episode of the Rightnowish podcast, we end back where we started — but with some pretty significant updates.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the fall of 2019, renowned visual artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/timothyb_art/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Timothy B.\u003c/a> gave us the first full Rightnowish interview for an episode titled ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13868502/from-d-boys-to-dope-art\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">From D-Boys to Dope Art.\u003c/a>’\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During that interview, Timothy B. was flanked by his mother Dana Bluitt and his father Timothy Bluitt Sr. as he shared with us his perspective on mural making, community building and his work in Oakland. We also discussed how Timothy B.’s colorful paintings on the streets of the Town differ drastically from the work his father did in Oakland during the ’80s and early ’90s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Timothy Sr., a representative of East Oakland’s legendary 69 Mob, was incarcerated in a federal penitentiary for over two decades. During that time, Mrs. Bluitt held the family down. Timothy B. took notes from both his mother and father, and flourished because of the strength of his parents.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, five years after our last conversation on tape, Timothy B. is a father too. Stepping into parenthood has changed his painting schedule and personal priorities. But he remains creative.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13961247\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13961247 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56%E2%80%AFPM-800x1100.png\" alt=\"Timothy B. stands on a lift in front of a mural he painted at the East Oakland Youth Center dedicated to journalist and political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1100\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-800x1100.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-160x220.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM-768x1056.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Screenshot-2024-07-16-at-11.40.56 PM.png 972w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Timothy B. stands on a lift in front of a mural he painted at the East Oakland Youth Center dedicated to journalist and political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of Timothy B. )\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In fact, having painted numerous murals around the Town and beyond, his work is getting out there more than ever. In Oakland, his work can be seen at places like the corner store on Grand and Ellita, as well as the broad side of buildings on 7th and Washington, 82nd and International, and 15th and Webster. He has more murals in the works, plus he’s expanding beyond walls: this past February, his designs were commissioned, printed on T-shirts and given away at \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C3RDwNIPJNl/?hl=en\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">a Golden State Warriors home game\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week, we discuss how Timothy B. has grown, and how Oakland has changed. And then Timothy B. gives us some advice on how to deal with major life transitions; advice I needed to hear as we end the Rightnowish podcast.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC4636659965\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw, Host: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s up Rightnowish listeners, I’m your host Pendarvis Harshaw.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We are here. At the grand finale, the final episode of Rightnowish. We’ve had an amazing 5 year run, so much love, so many memories. Thank you all for rocking with us. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">To host an arts and culture show in the Bay Area, it’s been so dope, I haven’t fully processed it. But for now I can say that I’m extremely grateful…grateful for the emails, comments on social posts and conversations at bars and coffee shops…grateful that we’ve had the support from KQED and from the community…grateful to the people who shared their stories with us, and to everyone who listened. I could go on but, yeah, grateful. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That being said, to bookend this Rightnowish podcast, we’re going back to where we started: a conversation with the very first guest on the show– renowned visual artist, Timothy B. We caught up with him via zoom from his Oakland studio.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Timothy’s work can be found all around the Bay, and beyond. He’s painted images of community members, goddesses and of Huey P. Newton. His mural of the late Nipsey Hussle on Grand and Perkins in Oakland is a trademark piece. Another mural on a wall further down Grand pays homage to the memory of Nia Wilson, a young woman who was slain on a BART platform in July of 2018.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">In the first episode of Rightnowish, Timothy B. and I discussed how his work on the streets of the town differs drastically from the work his father did. His dad, Timothy Bliutt Sr., is a factor from East Oakland’s legendary 69 Mob, and he also served a significant amount of time in a federal penitentiary. And from there Mrs. Dana Bluitt, Timothy B.’s mother, held the family down. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Which brings us to today– over the last five years a lot has changed for Timothy B. He’s a father now. So, for this final episode, we chop it up about Oakland, art and mental health, as well as fatherhood, personal relationships and the process of dealing with life’s big transitions.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As you might imagine, I could use that advice right now… ish. Yeah, more after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There we go, there we go, there we go, Timothy B! I’m really excited to talk to you today for a number of reasons, really because you were the first interview in the Rightnowish series. You started us off on a good note, and so much has changed over the past 5 years. And when I think of all the changes that you have experienced, the biggest one is fatherhood. And our past conversation was about family and your parents and how they poured into you, and how that shows up in your artistry and given your relationship with your parents, what does it mean to you to be a father now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, my son, he’s, he’s going to be the first to experience having a father and grandfather in I don’t know in how many generations, you know. So, you know, that’s power in itself. Because my father was incarcerated for 24 years of my life, to receive the opportunity to be a father now is monumental. I could give, ya know, my son, he’s…he won’t ever know what it’s like to not have a father around, you know? God forbid anything happens to me. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As you know, being a father yourself, I’m learning a lot around patience. Being a father is probably like, one of my hardest tasks, you know, just trying to balance everything. And I don’t cook to often, right? I think that’s probably like, my biggest challenge is just cooking different meals \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs] \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">that he would eat.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Gotta gotta learn more than just the spaghetti. I remember I stepped my game up. \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m tired of having spaghetti, Dawg. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah, for me, man, it’s mashed potatoes and broccoli \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[laughs]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> But that’s clutch, that’s clutch yeah. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But yeah, it’s been an amazing journey so far. You know, just seeing how, how much joy he bring, not to just myself, but everybody around. I feel like he was just, he was brought at the perfect time. He gave my family hope. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You mentioned the balance, the balancing act and, I mean, you are a renowned artist. How has parenthood changed your schedule as an artist?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Considering that I have my son four days a week,\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t have much time to focus on my work like I used to. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">When I’m off father-duty, I’m a lot more focused than I used to be. Whereas before I used to cat-off a little bit. But these days, time management skills is a lot much better, ya feel me? So, I think I’m a little more disciplined now than I was back then.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What are some of the things that you’re dealing with with life right now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B:\u003c/b> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It’s a trip because you know all these great things are happening in the art department. You know a lot of people, they see me accomplishing great things every month. I’m having unveiling, there’s a celebration, I’m being honored by The Warriors and Allen Temple Baptist Church and it’s just love being thrown my way, but at the, on the flip side of it, man I’ve been feeling like sh*t. I’m feeling terrible, you know, just for the reasons that my personal relationships to the people I love the most, you know are in sh*t. It’s like, I don’t know man. Just trying to find that balance. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What’s your method to the madness? How do you deal with it all? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Martial arts, you know, has really helped. I’ve been, you know, getting some sun. And also just accepting that people are going to feel how they feel, you know. Like, there’s nothing, you know, there’s certain things you just can’t do. You know, you can’t control how people think of you. You know, like, if your intentions is to do right by people, but they don’t, they can’t receive it for whatever reason, yo, that’s outside of you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But I’m learning, you know, these days to, you know, continue to just show the love that I want to receive and if they could receive it from you. Cool. You know, if they not, if they can’t, I’m still going to try to pour as much as I can. You feel me? But, you know, just set my boundaries to protect my heart. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You know, the last thing I want to do is like, be here, be out here angry or frustrated. You feel me? So, you know, as of late I’ve been, like, moving in gratitude. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You once told me that your artwork is an escape for you. Does it still provide that same escape? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah man, it really does. It really does. Because I mean, essentially, you know, I create worlds, you know whenever, you know, I’m logging into the arts, I’m in a whole different zone. Like, I’m in a whole different thinking space, \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Can you describe your style? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I think I have, like a Afro-futuristic, surrealist style. I love, like, a stylistic, illustrative type of art, you know, similar to, like, you know, like, comic book style. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m thinking of, like, I’ll read, like, you know, like the \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Black Panther\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">, the one that was written by Ta-Nehisi Coates.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I can’t think of who the illustrator is right now, but his work is is tight. You know, it’s like it’s highly detailed, kind of wanderlust. And whenever I think of my work, you know, I try to give that kind of a Candyland type feel, you know, but with, you know, a real sense of reality, \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That makes perfect sense. But I like what you say like surrealism, Afrofuturism, a little, you know, flavor to make it shine. And I could fully see that in your work, man. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’m thinking about a design you did earlier this year that debuted for The Warriors during Black History Month, real big deal, man. Walk me through the process of designing that image. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I usually start with looking at different references. I would write down, like my intentions for the design, how I want it to feel, what I want it to represent. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That piece was like, it was themed around manifesting your life, your destiny, your dreams. And it was of a boy, you know, with his hands out and like his strength, his power is in his hands. Right? And my, you know, thinking about myself, you know, I’ve been able to manifest everything I want in life, you know, like I’m living the dream right now. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Man, it all came from my hands. You know, I’ve been able to travel the world. I’ve been able to buy the cars I want. I’ve been able to live in the space I want to live in. All because of these hands. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Behind him was, the elders, you know, that were standing together in prayer, praying over the boy. You know, I come from a big village as you know. My family has always been, ya know, real good at uplifting me in whatever I wanted to do. And, so, you know, that’s what that piece was about. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Having that image printed on hundreds of thousands of t-shirts inside of The Warriors’ Chase Center, what was it like for you to walk in that evening and see your art?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">It was unreal. I would say it was unreal. Like, I don’t even think it really like resonated until afterwards. It was a reminder that I’ve came a long way. You know, like I, you know, I remember, you know, being in college telling myself that one day all this is going to make sense. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So now, to be in this position where, like you say, I got t-shirts, I’m doing.. got t-shirts all over the arena, the Chase. You know, I could barely even afford to be in the arena but now, you know, I’m in partnership with The Warriors, you feel me. It was like, man, like, it’s just it’s euphoric. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You had your son with you? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">My son going everywhere with me. You feel me? Like he needs to know that anything is possible at a very young age.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What does it mean for someone to come up to you and compliment your work and give you your flowers? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">What that means to me is that one… people, people see me. And that feels good in itself to be seen, to be recognized, and also to be appreciated for the things that you love to do that you think no one sees. It’d be one thing if I was out here popular for, like, putting out negativity. But when you’re not with that, when you out here putting, you know, spreading love, that’s what you receive. Everywhere you go is just love. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Beyond putting paint where it ain’t and just doing an immaculate job at it, you’re also the founder of Good Air Studios, where you host live events and workshops for artists. Bringing it back a little bit, the last time we talked you were at Mouse Cat, and five years, a lot has changed. How was Good Air different from Mouse Cat? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Mouse Cat, personal studio is just all about…it’s my living space, you know. This is where I create, where I sleep, you know, but I needed a space for the community. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For the longest time I’ve been doing this arts stuff, running this business by myself. I wanted to share this with other people. There’s a bunch of artists that look up to me and want to work by my side. And I want to be there to work in collaboration with them and teach them and learn from them. So I wanted to, you know, create a space for, you know, me and the community to connect and build. That’s how Good Air Studios came about. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">For months, I was looking in this space, and I was just trying to, you know, figure out how I was going to pay that rent. So I reached out to all my closest friends and, you know, I pitched the idea to them, and then they believed in what I was talking about and now we here. \u003c/span>\u003cb> \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We makin’ enough money to pay rent, you know, but that’s a milestone. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That’s gotta be dope to see it happening, the wheels are turning.\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I’ve been to the space it’s high ceilings, you know, like old warehouse just covered in art everywhere, the ping pong tables out front. You got the vibes and all of that is important. But the… what you just said beyond just the esthetics, this is about having space for creatives to come together. Why do you think that’s important for creatives in the Bay area right now? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I feel like we as Black artists need a space for us, you know? And that’s what Good Air Studio is, you know? And it’s not just for Black artists, of course, but we are trying to encourage the Black community to come out and even those who don’t really draw like that and who want to learn, you know, we want to host workshops for them so they could develop the confidence to, you know, express themselves through that medium. We doing something really dope. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I feel like you personally, and also the larger ideas that come from you and your circle are very representative of creatives in the Bay Area right now. And also like, looking forward, I feel like y’all have a foot on the pulse of the now and also have some say in what’s to come down the pipeline.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And we’re coming to the end of producing this show. With that, there’s a slight relief that I don’t do the same thing over and over again and there’s some sadness of like losing this thing that I love, right? And you as a person who’s gone through some transitions in your life, what advice would you give to myself and the Rightnowish team as we go through this transition? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Timothy B: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We all creatives here. So no matter what we doing, we are doing something..we gon do something dope. So I guess my advice is to, continue to move in purpose, you know, and continue to move, towards whatever it is that is fulfilling your spirit, you know, because that is the thing that is going to wake us all up. That’s the… you like, you starting this show, this is the thing that we all needed. We needed to hear these stories of, you know, all these local celebrities. We use these stories that just, you know, remind us of maybe what we doing or, maybe get an insight of, you know, what is out there. Yeah man, continue to explore and experiment, it will happen for you, I promise you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Thank you. Thank you for sharing some insight into your life as a parent and also your life as an artist, man. And like, yeah, I can’t thank you enough because, you know, you changed the visual landscape at a place that we love. And that’s, that’s a hell of a task. So thank you. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">There’s this thing that happens in journalism sometimes, where the person you’re interviewing speaks your truths. And all you can do is nod in agreement as the tape rolls. Timothy B.’s thoughts on community interaction — how it’s fueled his art and community service, even while dealing with all that life can throw at him. Yeah, bingo. That’s been a big part of this Rightnowish experience. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So Timothy B, Thank you again for your words of wisdom, your story and your work. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">To keep up with Timothy B’s visual arts, live events and more follow him on Instagram at timothyb underscore art. That’s t-i-m-o-t-h-y-b underscore art. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And, wow…. for the last time here go the show credits:\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Marisol Medina-Cadena is the Rightnowish producer. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Some of the music you heard in the episode was sourced from Audio Network.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cbr>\nChris Hambrick and Chris Egusa edited this episode.\u003cbr>\nChristopher Beale is our engineer.\u003cbr>\nThe Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan and Katie Sprenger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Aight yall. This is the end. Thanks again. As a wise person once told me: keep it lit. Peace. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish is a KQED production.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13961188/rightnowishs-grand-finale-words-of-wisdom-from-timothy-b","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_70"],"tags":["arts_1737","arts_1143"],"featImg":"arts_13961190","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13960783":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13960783","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13960783","score":null,"sort":[1720692046000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"building-a-native-arts-and-culture-space-from-the-ground-up","title":"Building a Native Arts and Culture Space From the Ground Up","publishDate":1720692046,"format":"audio","headTitle":"Building a Native Arts and Culture Space From the Ground Up | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8720,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">View the full episode transcript.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The dense green woods of Sonoma County’s Forestville are home to a two-story music studio and residence that runs on solar energy. Known as \u003ca href=\"https://nestbuildcreate.com/\">The NEST\u003c/a>, the mocha colored building is made completely of wood, clay and cob; and it was created for the purpose of serving Native artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/raskdee/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Ras K’dee\u003c/a>, a Pomo-African hip-hop musician who grew up in the area, is the caretaker of the space, but he didn’t build it alone. He worked with over 350 people, many of them young folks from youth groups like \u003ca href=\"http://podersf.org\">PODER\u003c/a>, who took the 70-mile trip from San Francisco to this town by the Russian River, or Bidapte, “big river” in the Pomo language.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960798\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960798 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-800x1067.jpg\" alt=\"Ras K'dee stands in front of the NEST, a solar powered hub for Native artists in Forestville, CA. \" width=\"800\" height=\"1067\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1536x2048.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-scaled.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ras K’dee stands in front of the NEST, a solar powered hub for Native artists in Forestville, CA. \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to being the founder of \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/snagmagazine/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">SNAG Magazine\u003c/a>, an Indigenous periodical that has been in print for over two decades, Ras K’dee is also a DJ and emcee in the group \u003ca href=\"https://www.audiopharmacy.com/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Audiopharmacy\u003c/a>. This week on Rightnowish, we talk about the importance of working together to create spaces for artists to grow, and the ins and outs of land reclamation in the North Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7274032882\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">, \u003c/span>\u003cb>Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What’s up Rightnowish listeners, it’s your host Pendarvis Harshaw\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know about you but being in a forest soothes my soul. I got to feel that special bliss a few weeks back when I was in Sonoma County, specifically in the town of Forestville. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish producer Marisol Medina-Cadena and I got to visit a place called “The Nest.” It’s a quarter acre of land nestled among lush trees, and it serves as an arts and culture hub built by and for Indigenous folks. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Over the last 6 years, it’s been the publishing home of a Native arts magazine called SNAG, which features poems, essays, photographs, and collages about Native identity and activism. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Nest has also been a space for Indigenous folks across Northern California to convene for permaculture workshops, ceremonies and community feasts, as well as trainings on natural building. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what came out of those training sessions is the construction of a two story art studio made from cob.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Facilitating these trainings is a DJ and musician who started SNAG magazine. His name is Ras K’dee. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee, Guest\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: I’m Pomo. My ancestry is from right here. The river that flows down that we’re on right now is Bidapte, Big River. And then Ashokawna is where our people are from. And so we’re on our traditional lands right here, this is our traditional grounds.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee sees The Nest as the intersection of creativity and environmental responsibility. And so he, with the help of other Indigenous folks have built this place to be completely fueled by solar panels. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We’ll hear how Indigenous creativity is taking shape at The Nest right after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> About 15 minutes away from the Russian River is The Nest, a space built by and for Native people. Ras K’dee who was born and raised in Sonoma County was able to purchase this plot of land with the inheritance he got from his grandmother selling her house. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee, Marisol and I stand outside and take in the beauty.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had a land blessing from my, from my grandmother and my aunt, came and did like a land blessing, in the Pomo way, where they sing songs and offer prayers and, and, had our had our community here that were coming to help\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We got the land in 2012. But slowly, we’ve been building building it up. We actually intentionally didn’t build for, like, four years. We just kind of, like, watch the land and, during in the winter, during the spring, during the summer and just kind of in the fall, kind of see the different seasons and… Four years of that and like slowly just kind of clearing and like putting garden beds and stuff and planting trees.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This slow process of tending the land allowed Ras K’dee to be intentional about how to build out the space.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The first structure he envisioned was the art studio. It’s brown, and 2 stories tall with hexagon sides and has a roof that extends over the sides. It kinda looks like a trumpet mushroom. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He designed it by thinking about what would be conducive for creating. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I was visualizing “what do painters or artists need?” You know, taller ceilings, you know, like, open like, clay wall where they can, like, you know, put their stuff up. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And the construction of this is completely made from cob.\u003c/span> \u003cb>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The building is sitting on mortared stone. And then it goes up about three feet. And then, on top of that is cob, which is the plaster of clay and straw and sand, mixed together. And it makes like a kind you know, really strong, like, kind of like concrete, almost. And so then you have, like, a foot of that and then from that going up is all pallet wall. So those are like pallets that are, that are stuffed with straw and plastered over.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Structurally it’s got wood and it’s got these big lumber, lumber pieces that are holding it up. And inside you’ll see there’s beams going across. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena, Rightnowish Producer: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Is it redwood beams?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee : \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah Redwood. Yeah. Wanna go and check it out?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, let’s go inside.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[sounds of footsteps]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee encourages us to touch the cob walls to feel all the love that was poured into making it. We do and it has a calming quality to it. He says, it’s the energy of all the people who he invited to help build it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had about 350 people work on the structure, over 350 people and mostly youth. There’s a lot of young people, a lot of youth groups. We had PODER and their youth group come up. We had a bunch of families, like friends with families came up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K Dee: \u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had my friend Tomaggio and his family… were some of the first people here helping. They had a three year old and a one year old at the time. Inside is like a plastering and mixing area. And so you just put a tarp down and put all the ingredients in. And so the youth are just in there, just, you know jumping around, having fun. And like, we went to lunch and we were eating and, you know, just visiting and having a break and we came back and like the whole thing is like, mixed. We’re like, “oh man, you guys, you guys did the work, you know”?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But it was really cool like seeing the young people, yeah, just bringing in the clay. Like, the three year old is like giving it to the one year old or the one year old giving it to the three year old and three year old is like, bringing it in to the parents and then the parents are like, putting it on the wall. So that’s kind of like how this started in here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> How did you even know how to do sustainable type of building?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m pretty self-taught. I also like went to a lot of workshops. But, really got my chops in Hoopa. At the Hoopa Rez, we built a straw bale structure. It was little bit different of, of a kind of a building. But you basically use the straw bales and you cut them and make them look kind of like Legos. So they’re like… and stack them and then you plaster that. And that that structure is still, still standing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That really like gave me a perspective like what it takes and the amount of people and the amount of work that it takes to do this kind of building. But this is my first building that I built from scratch.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> When I was touching the wall, like you said, I noticed it was very cool. Can you talk about how the material itself is good for winter and summer? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, you know, the walls themselves absorb you know, the humidity, the moisture. And the clay walls, they’re like, really they’re known to, be a great barrier in terms of like, creating a more, just relaxed temperature inside. And what the clay does is it absorbs like the humidity and the kind of the, the heat, the moisture and kind of captures it. And when it starts to cool at night, it starts to release it inside. And so it keeps the building naturally fluctuating between just a comfortable temperature. But you’ll notice when we walk outside even, you know that it’s much cooler inside of here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Ya know, behind building a structure like this is that it’s nontoxic. You don’t have all the waste chemicals. You don’t have all the waste number one from from the construction industry. There’s a lot of waste. Like, I don’t know if you ever been to a construction site, but you look in the dumpsters, it’s like, full of, like, perfectly good, usable materials, but it’s just stuff they cut off or stuff they’re not going to use. So it’s it’s… I pulled a lot of the lumber for this structure out of dumpsters actually, because people just throw away perfectly good two by sixes.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This room is essentially a sleeping den for Ras K’dee. A mattress takes up the full space and original art pieces from visiting artists hang on the walls. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Next Ras K’dee invites us to check the upstairs level of this structure. For the last couple of years it’s served as a creative studio for visiting artists to retreat and work on their own visual art. Most recently, they had an Anishinaabe artist from Detroit stay and create graphics and articles for SNAG magazine.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Ras’Kdee talking]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We walk up a flight of stairs made from redwood trees.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Okay. Watch your head here this is a little low this side. Gotta duck down there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> It’s cool up here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> It’s a fully fleshed out recording space. There’s acoustic and electric guitars hanging on the walls. a desk with 2 keyboards, sound mixers and recording microphones. The wooden roof has a skylight so the sun shines into the studio and provides beautiful natural lighting that feels conducive for getting the creative juices flowing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee has even recorded a couple albums here with his group Audiopharmacy. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K Dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">:\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The founders of the group are all kind of like rooted in hip hop and hip hop, I would say is, you know, really a music that’s founded on sampling. And so it literally sampled every genre, you know, and so that’s kind of like what we are. We’re like, we are every genre, you know. But I play keys, is my main instrument that I, that I grew up playing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">After this short tour, we sit down to talk more about the vision behind The Nest.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You live here as well? What’s your day to day life like here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: Taking care of the garden is a big part of my day. Waking up in the morning, watering the garden, doing some weeding. I like to, I like to do a little bit of work. Work in the garden in the morning, and then jumping on my other work that I do. I’m also a musician and artist, so it’s a busy time. You know, we got gigs and stuff, so there’s a lot of calls and stuff happening around negotiating and figuring out gigs. But yeah, just supporting artists, you know is kind of what I do here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right now, I’m working on a mural project in Windsor, we’re, we’ve got like, a 100 foot wall over there and so bringing in the artists for that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> So, juggling the arts, also juggling all that comes with managing nature. You’re in the middle of nowhere. What’s nightlife like out here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Quiet. it’s quiet. Like all those scary movies start creeping in, you know, you’re like, man, it’s dark out here. Like, what’s out here, like, you know, mountain lions, bears, you know, like you start thinking about things. And so it took me a while to like to like, unlearn that programing, you know, like to like, get out of that like, cycle, like fear and just be like, oh, it’s just nature.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Being out here alone and just kind of like in the elements, I started to really enjoy it and really enjoy that that peace,connecting to to that darkness in a different way. But, there’s constantly people coming through, especially during this, this time of year. We do like a men’s healing circle. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> As a kid, were you the builder type?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I grew up in Sonoma County. I grew up, not too far from. And in northern Santa Rosa. Where we grew up, it was like the end of town, like our street was like the last street in town, basically. And like, as soon as you leave there, it’s just like hills,and so like, we would be off in the hills, you know, with our B-B guns, our slingshots. And it was like, you know, we go out all our homies, like 4 or 5 of us, you know, me and my brother, my older brother. And we would, we would just be out all day long. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We’d have different forts built. It was always kind of like in my, back of my head is like, got to get to the forest, got to get back to the forest and build that tree fort. As an adult, you know, this is kind of like a representation of that I think.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> In this part of the region in Sonoma County, there’s a couple of other organizations that are doing similar work, like EARTHseed, like Heron Shadow. Are you in communication with these organizations? And is there like a movement occurring?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> There’s definitely a movement. Yeah. It’s pretty special, actually, to be be a part of it. I am in community with a lot of a lot of the organizations you mentioned. I was just deejaying, actually, at EARTHseed’s “Black to Land” event last week. They open up their, their space to, you know, to, to the Black community. We we all collaborate. We all connect. And Heron Shadow has a farm, so they have more food and, they do like, Indigenous food and Indigenous seeds. They bring back seeds. And so it’s perfect because, you know, like we go over there like, do an exchange or do a collaboration and they gift us this with seeds and gift us with plants to bring back here to plant. So it’s kind of like this, you know, this sharing of resources.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Being in your space and you talking about all the community groups that come here, it makes me think about how other land back efforts we’re seeing in NorCal are very different, in that it’s like a city, you know, giving a plot of land to a formal nonprofit to steward and tend. But this is like your private space built from your like, family equity. And talk to us about that decision to open up your personal space so that it is a collective thing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> This building couldn’t have been made without, you know, people coming. I think it was more of a prayer, you know, like I want to I want to put the prayer here, for this space to be a community space and for it to be, a resource for the community,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And so we put the prayer in and like, you know, kind of like not knowing, you know, if the community was going to show up, just like, oh, let’s start doing this, this crazy project and see, see who shows up kind of thing and the community, community showed up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m wondering when you’re either in the garden or just sitting here with your dog Panda taking in the breeze, the sounds, how do you feel? Or what are you thinking about what this land means for you?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: What I’ve gained is, I guess, a sense of peace. And coming into this land with also like a lot of work to do to like prepare it, it felt like overwhelming, you know, and it felt like, you know, like impossible at first because it was an empty lot and it was just overgrown. And, you know, trees had fallen and it hadn’t been taken care for many years. And yeah, just doing the work to, like, slowly heal the land and steward it in a good way, you know, has really just helped me to like, to heal myself,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As Indigenous people, you know, we see it as like as, like a generational commitment to the land. You know, like, we’re going to be here for generations. We’re not just here for build our house right now and then sell it and then, you know, move somewhere else, you know, or to Mexico or whatever, you know. What do they call them? Digital nomads. You know, like we’re not thinking in terms of that. We’re thinking in terms of generations.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So what are we building here right now that that we can leave generationally for, for our for our youth in the future, right. I don’t have youth of my own right now, but I have young people that I that I work with. This is a lifelong project. It’s not a temporary thing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We were creating this space as kind of a showcase place where people can come and see, you know, a building that’s that’s cob. And they could touch the wall and feel and see what it looks like and what the different building techniques are and learn about the different building techniques and then be like, oh, I want to, I want to build an adobe, you know, adobe dome. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But really, really just incubate, incubate art that changes the world, you know, that’s that’s that’s why the space is here. So those are, those are the things that we want to do here and invite the artists that can bring about that change that we need in this world.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Ras K’dee, we can’t thank you enough. Much appreciation to you for welcoming us to your corner of Sonoma County to see and experience The Nest.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Nest is still evolving and Ras K’dee has plans to build a yurt and a dance studio to be able to host more classes and workshops. To stay updated on The Nest follow along on Instagram @SNAG.magazine.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And to keep up Ras K’dee’s art and music projects, you can check out his IG @raskdee that’s spelled R-A-S-K-D-E-E.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Hambrick held it down for edits on this one. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger. Rightnowish is a KQED production.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Until next time, peace!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Ras K'dee is DJ, emcee and founder of SNAG Magazine. Now he's building a studio for Indigenous artists. ","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1720639756,"stats":{"hasAudio":true,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":77,"wordCount":3688},"headData":{"title":"Building a Native Arts and Culture Space From the Ground Up | KQED","description":"This week on Rightnowish, we talk to Ras K'dee, a DJ, emcee and the founder of SNAG Magazine. Now he's building an arts and culture center to help Indigenous artists to grow.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"This week on Rightnowish, we talk to Ras K'dee, a DJ, emcee and the founder of SNAG Magazine. Now he's building an arts and culture center to help Indigenous artists to grow.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Building a Native Arts and Culture Space From the Ground Up","datePublished":"2024-07-11T03:00:46-07:00","dateModified":"2024-07-10T12:29:16-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC7274032882.mp3?updated=1720634574","sticky":false,"templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13960783/building-a-native-arts-and-culture-space-from-the-ground-up","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"#episode-transcript\">\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">View the full episode transcript.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The dense green woods of Sonoma County’s Forestville are home to a two-story music studio and residence that runs on solar energy. Known as \u003ca href=\"https://nestbuildcreate.com/\">The NEST\u003c/a>, the mocha colored building is made completely of wood, clay and cob; and it was created for the purpose of serving Native artists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/raskdee/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Ras K’dee\u003c/a>, a Pomo-African hip-hop musician who grew up in the area, is the caretaker of the space, but he didn’t build it alone. He worked with over 350 people, many of them young folks from youth groups like \u003ca href=\"http://podersf.org\">PODER\u003c/a>, who took the 70-mile trip from San Francisco to this town by the Russian River, or Bidapte, “big river” in the Pomo language.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960798\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960798 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-800x1067.jpg\" alt=\"Ras K'dee stands in front of the NEST, a solar powered hub for Native artists in Forestville, CA. \" width=\"800\" height=\"1067\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-1536x2048.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/07/Ras-KDee-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-7-scaled.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ras K’dee stands in front of the NEST, a solar powered hub for Native artists in Forestville, CA. \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to being the founder of \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/snagmagazine/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">SNAG Magazine\u003c/a>, an Indigenous periodical that has been in print for over two decades, Ras K’dee is also a DJ and emcee in the group \u003ca href=\"https://www.audiopharmacy.com/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Audiopharmacy\u003c/a>. This week on Rightnowish, we talk about the importance of working together to create spaces for artists to grow, and the ins and outs of land reclamation in the North Bay.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7274032882\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2 id=\"episode-transcript\">Episode Transcript\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This is a computer-generated transcript. While our team has reviewed it, there may be errors.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">, \u003c/span>\u003cb>Host:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> What’s up Rightnowish listeners, it’s your host Pendarvis Harshaw\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">I don’t know about you but being in a forest soothes my soul. I got to feel that special bliss a few weeks back when I was in Sonoma County, specifically in the town of Forestville. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Rightnowish producer Marisol Medina-Cadena and I got to visit a place called “The Nest.” It’s a quarter acre of land nestled among lush trees, and it serves as an arts and culture hub built by and for Indigenous folks. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Over the last 6 years, it’s been the publishing home of a Native arts magazine called SNAG, which features poems, essays, photographs, and collages about Native identity and activism. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Nest has also been a space for Indigenous folks across Northern California to convene for permaculture workshops, ceremonies and community feasts, as well as trainings on natural building. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And what came out of those training sessions is the construction of a two story art studio made from cob.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Facilitating these trainings is a DJ and musician who started SNAG magazine. His name is Ras K’dee. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee, Guest\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: I’m Pomo. My ancestry is from right here. The river that flows down that we’re on right now is Bidapte, Big River. And then Ashokawna is where our people are from. And so we’re on our traditional lands right here, this is our traditional grounds.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee sees The Nest as the intersection of creativity and environmental responsibility. And so he, with the help of other Indigenous folks have built this place to be completely fueled by solar panels. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We’ll hear how Indigenous creativity is taking shape at The Nest right after this. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music playing]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> About 15 minutes away from the Russian River is The Nest, a space built by and for Native people. Ras K’dee who was born and raised in Sonoma County was able to purchase this plot of land with the inheritance he got from his grandmother selling her house. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee, Marisol and I stand outside and take in the beauty.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had a land blessing from my, from my grandmother and my aunt, came and did like a land blessing, in the Pomo way, where they sing songs and offer prayers and, and, had our had our community here that were coming to help\u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">.\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We got the land in 2012. But slowly, we’ve been building building it up. We actually intentionally didn’t build for, like, four years. We just kind of, like, watch the land and, during in the winter, during the spring, during the summer and just kind of in the fall, kind of see the different seasons and… Four years of that and like slowly just kind of clearing and like putting garden beds and stuff and planting trees.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This slow process of tending the land allowed Ras K’dee to be intentional about how to build out the space.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The first structure he envisioned was the art studio. It’s brown, and 2 stories tall with hexagon sides and has a roof that extends over the sides. It kinda looks like a trumpet mushroom. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">He designed it by thinking about what would be conducive for creating. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I was visualizing “what do painters or artists need?” You know, taller ceilings, you know, like, open like, clay wall where they can, like, you know, put their stuff up. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And the construction of this is completely made from cob.\u003c/span> \u003cb>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The building is sitting on mortared stone. And then it goes up about three feet. And then, on top of that is cob, which is the plaster of clay and straw and sand, mixed together. And it makes like a kind you know, really strong, like, kind of like concrete, almost. And so then you have, like, a foot of that and then from that going up is all pallet wall. So those are like pallets that are, that are stuffed with straw and plastered over.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Structurally it’s got wood and it’s got these big lumber, lumber pieces that are holding it up. And inside you’ll see there’s beams going across. \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena, Rightnowish Producer: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Is it redwood beams?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee : \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah Redwood. Yeah. Wanna go and check it out?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, let’s go inside.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[sounds of footsteps]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee encourages us to touch the cob walls to feel all the love that was poured into making it. We do and it has a calming quality to it. He says, it’s the energy of all the people who he invited to help build it. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had about 350 people work on the structure, over 350 people and mostly youth. There’s a lot of young people, a lot of youth groups. We had PODER and their youth group come up. We had a bunch of families, like friends with families came up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K Dee: \u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We had my friend Tomaggio and his family… were some of the first people here helping. They had a three year old and a one year old at the time. Inside is like a plastering and mixing area. And so you just put a tarp down and put all the ingredients in. And so the youth are just in there, just, you know jumping around, having fun. And like, we went to lunch and we were eating and, you know, just visiting and having a break and we came back and like the whole thing is like, mixed. We’re like, “oh man, you guys, you guys did the work, you know”?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But it was really cool like seeing the young people, yeah, just bringing in the clay. Like, the three year old is like giving it to the one year old or the one year old giving it to the three year old and three year old is like, bringing it in to the parents and then the parents are like, putting it on the wall. So that’s kind of like how this started in here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> How did you even know how to do sustainable type of building?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m pretty self-taught. I also like went to a lot of workshops. But, really got my chops in Hoopa. At the Hoopa Rez, we built a straw bale structure. It was little bit different of, of a kind of a building. But you basically use the straw bales and you cut them and make them look kind of like Legos. So they’re like… and stack them and then you plaster that. And that that structure is still, still standing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">That really like gave me a perspective like what it takes and the amount of people and the amount of work that it takes to do this kind of building. But this is my first building that I built from scratch.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> When I was touching the wall, like you said, I noticed it was very cool. Can you talk about how the material itself is good for winter and summer? \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah, you know, the walls themselves absorb you know, the humidity, the moisture. And the clay walls, they’re like, really they’re known to, be a great barrier in terms of like, creating a more, just relaxed temperature inside. And what the clay does is it absorbs like the humidity and the kind of the, the heat, the moisture and kind of captures it. And when it starts to cool at night, it starts to release it inside. And so it keeps the building naturally fluctuating between just a comfortable temperature. But you’ll notice when we walk outside even, you know that it’s much cooler inside of here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Yeah\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Yeah\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Ya know, behind building a structure like this is that it’s nontoxic. You don’t have all the waste chemicals. You don’t have all the waste number one from from the construction industry. There’s a lot of waste. Like, I don’t know if you ever been to a construction site, but you look in the dumpsters, it’s like, full of, like, perfectly good, usable materials, but it’s just stuff they cut off or stuff they’re not going to use. So it’s it’s… I pulled a lot of the lumber for this structure out of dumpsters actually, because people just throw away perfectly good two by sixes.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This room is essentially a sleeping den for Ras K’dee. A mattress takes up the full space and original art pieces from visiting artists hang on the walls. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Next Ras K’dee invites us to check the upstairs level of this structure. For the last couple of years it’s served as a creative studio for visiting artists to retreat and work on their own visual art. Most recently, they had an Anishinaabe artist from Detroit stay and create graphics and articles for SNAG magazine.\u003cbr>\n\u003c/span>\u003cb>\u003cbr>\n\u003c/b>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Ras’Kdee talking]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We walk up a flight of stairs made from redwood trees.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Okay. Watch your head here this is a little low this side. Gotta duck down there. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> It’s cool up here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> It’s a fully fleshed out recording space. There’s acoustic and electric guitars hanging on the walls. a desk with 2 keyboards, sound mixers and recording microphones. The wooden roof has a skylight so the sun shines into the studio and provides beautiful natural lighting that feels conducive for getting the creative juices flowing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Ras K’dee has even recorded a couple albums here with his group Audiopharmacy. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K Dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">:\u003c/span> \u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The founders of the group are all kind of like rooted in hip hop and hip hop, I would say is, you know, really a music that’s founded on sampling. And so it literally sampled every genre, you know, and so that’s kind of like what we are. We’re like, we are every genre, you know. But I play keys, is my main instrument that I, that I grew up playing. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">After this short tour, we sit down to talk more about the vision behind The Nest.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw: \u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">You live here as well? What’s your day to day life like here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: Taking care of the garden is a big part of my day. Waking up in the morning, watering the garden, doing some weeding. I like to, I like to do a little bit of work. Work in the garden in the morning, and then jumping on my other work that I do. I’m also a musician and artist, so it’s a busy time. You know, we got gigs and stuff, so there’s a lot of calls and stuff happening around negotiating and figuring out gigs. But yeah, just supporting artists, you know is kind of what I do here.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Right now, I’m working on a mural project in Windsor, we’re, we’ve got like, a 100 foot wall over there and so bringing in the artists for that. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> So, juggling the arts, also juggling all that comes with managing nature. You’re in the middle of nowhere. What’s nightlife like out here?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Quiet. it’s quiet. Like all those scary movies start creeping in, you know, you’re like, man, it’s dark out here. Like, what’s out here, like, you know, mountain lions, bears, you know, like you start thinking about things. And so it took me a while to like to like, unlearn that programing, you know, like to like, get out of that like, cycle, like fear and just be like, oh, it’s just nature.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Being out here alone and just kind of like in the elements, I started to really enjoy it and really enjoy that that peace,connecting to to that darkness in a different way. But, there’s constantly people coming through, especially during this, this time of year. We do like a men’s healing circle. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> As a kid, were you the builder type?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I grew up in Sonoma County. I grew up, not too far from. And in northern Santa Rosa. Where we grew up, it was like the end of town, like our street was like the last street in town, basically. And like, as soon as you leave there, it’s just like hills,and so like, we would be off in the hills, you know, with our B-B guns, our slingshots. And it was like, you know, we go out all our homies, like 4 or 5 of us, you know, me and my brother, my older brother. And we would, we would just be out all day long. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We’d have different forts built. It was always kind of like in my, back of my head is like, got to get to the forest, got to get back to the forest and build that tree fort. As an adult, you know, this is kind of like a representation of that I think.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> In this part of the region in Sonoma County, there’s a couple of other organizations that are doing similar work, like EARTHseed, like Heron Shadow. Are you in communication with these organizations? And is there like a movement occurring?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> There’s definitely a movement. Yeah. It’s pretty special, actually, to be be a part of it. I am in community with a lot of a lot of the organizations you mentioned. I was just deejaying, actually, at EARTHseed’s “Black to Land” event last week. They open up their, their space to, you know, to, to the Black community. We we all collaborate. We all connect. And Heron Shadow has a farm, so they have more food and, they do like, Indigenous food and Indigenous seeds. They bring back seeds. And so it’s perfect because, you know, like we go over there like, do an exchange or do a collaboration and they gift us this with seeds and gift us with plants to bring back here to plant. So it’s kind of like this, you know, this sharing of resources.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Being in your space and you talking about all the community groups that come here, it makes me think about how other land back efforts we’re seeing in NorCal are very different, in that it’s like a city, you know, giving a plot of land to a formal nonprofit to steward and tend. But this is like your private space built from your like, family equity. And talk to us about that decision to open up your personal space so that it is a collective thing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> This building couldn’t have been made without, you know, people coming. I think it was more of a prayer, you know, like I want to I want to put the prayer here, for this space to be a community space and for it to be, a resource for the community,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And so we put the prayer in and like, you know, kind of like not knowing, you know, if the community was going to show up, just like, oh, let’s start doing this, this crazy project and see, see who shows up kind of thing and the community, community showed up.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Marisol Medina-Cadena:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> I’m wondering when you’re either in the garden or just sitting here with your dog Panda taking in the breeze, the sounds, how do you feel? Or what are you thinking about what this land means for you?\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Ras K’dee\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">: What I’ve gained is, I guess, a sense of peace. And coming into this land with also like a lot of work to do to like prepare it, it felt like overwhelming, you know, and it felt like, you know, like impossible at first because it was an empty lot and it was just overgrown. And, you know, trees had fallen and it hadn’t been taken care for many years. And yeah, just doing the work to, like, slowly heal the land and steward it in a good way, you know, has really just helped me to like, to heal myself,\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">As Indigenous people, you know, we see it as like as, like a generational commitment to the land. You know, like, we’re going to be here for generations. We’re not just here for build our house right now and then sell it and then, you know, move somewhere else, you know, or to Mexico or whatever, you know. What do they call them? Digital nomads. You know, like we’re not thinking in terms of that. We’re thinking in terms of generations.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">So what are we building here right now that that we can leave generationally for, for our for our youth in the future, right. I don’t have youth of my own right now, but I have young people that I that I work with. This is a lifelong project. It’s not a temporary thing.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">We were creating this space as kind of a showcase place where people can come and see, you know, a building that’s that’s cob. And they could touch the wall and feel and see what it looks like and what the different building techniques are and learn about the different building techniques and then be like, oh, I want to, I want to build an adobe, you know, adobe dome. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">But really, really just incubate, incubate art that changes the world, you know, that’s that’s that’s why the space is here. So those are, those are the things that we want to do here and invite the artists that can bring about that change that we need in this world.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> \u003c/span>\u003ci>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[Music]\u003c/span>\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pendarvis Harshaw:\u003c/b>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\"> Ras K’dee, we can’t thank you enough. Much appreciation to you for welcoming us to your corner of Sonoma County to see and experience The Nest.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Nest is still evolving and Ras K’dee has plans to build a yurt and a dance studio to be able to host more classes and workshops. To stay updated on The Nest follow along on Instagram @SNAG.magazine.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">And to keep up Ras K’dee’s art and music projects, you can check out his IG @raskdee that’s spelled R-A-S-K-D-E-E.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">This episode was hosted by me, Pendarvis Harshaw. Marisol Medina-Cadena produced this episode. Chris Hambrick held it down for edits on this one. Christopher Beale engineered this joint. \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">The Rightnowish team is also supported by Jen Chien, Ugur Dursun, Holly Kernan, Cesar Saldaña, and Katie Sprenger. Rightnowish is a KQED production.\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">Until next time, peace!\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13960783/building-a-native-arts-and-culture-space-from-the-ground-up","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_10278","arts_3178","arts_3217"],"featImg":"arts_13960790","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13960325":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13960325","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13960325","score":null,"sort":[1719482400000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"all-the-nights-we-got-to-dance-is-a-tribute-to-queer-nightlife-in-sf","title":"‘All The Nights We Got to Dance’ is a Tribute to Queer Nightlife in SF","publishDate":1719482400,"format":"audio","headTitle":"‘All The Nights We Got to Dance’ is a Tribute to Queer Nightlife in SF | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8720,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>Human memory can be triggered by certain smells, sounds or even a photo. It’s funny how the mind works; one small symbol can lead to the rehashing of feelings from years ago.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The latest work from artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/marcelpardoa/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Marcel Pardo Ariza\u003c/a> urges people to take a trip down memory lane by using images of gone-but-not-forgotten bar signs. Pardo Ariza is clear: these bars served more than booze. They were sanctuaries for folks from San Francisco’s queer and trans community, and should be celebrated as such.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960327\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960327 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-800x535.jpg\" alt='Marcel Pardo Ariza wears a blue button-up shirt while standing in front of their latest work behind a windowfront, \"All The Nights We Got To Dance.\"' width=\"800\" height=\"535\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-800x535.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-1020x682.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-1536x1027.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2.jpg 1616w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Artist Marcel Pardo Ariza and their latest installation, ‘All The Nights We Got To Dance.’ \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960341 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-800x583.jpg\" alt=\"On a yellow background, are illustrations of historic Queer and Trans bar signs including Gene Compton’s Cafeteria, Esta Noche, Amelia’s, The Pendulum and more. \" width=\"800\" height=\"583\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-800x583.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1020x743.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-160x117.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-768x559.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1536x1119.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-2048x1491.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1920x1398.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mockup of the site specific installation ‘All The Nights We Got to Dance.’ \u003ccite>(courtesy of Marcel Pardo Ariza)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All The Nights We Got To Dance\u003c/em> is a site-specific installation in the ground-floor window of The Line Hotel in San Francisco’s Transgender Cultural District. A sunset orange backdrop is covered in hand-painted wooden replicas of bar signs, such as The Lexington, Esta Noche and \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/primary-source-set-finocchios#:~:text=Finocchio's%20opened%20in%20the%20late,tourists%20and%20the%20queer%20community.\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Finocchio’s\u003c/a> — a club credited as one of the earliest incubators of drag shows in the U.S.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13936474']Born in Colombia and based in Oakland, Pardo Ariza worked closely with \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society \u003c/a>for their latest project\u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">, \u003c/a>leveraging the center’s rich archives to inform their work.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week on Rightnowish, we catch up with Pardo Ariza to take a look at their latest installation before heading over to the GLBT Historical Society’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/archives-about-visitor-info\">archives\u003c/a>. There, we meet up with Issac Fellman, the center’s managing reference archivist, who brings us files full of actual handbills, photos, flyers and ephemera from all the nights people danced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7628242492\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Marcel Pardo Ariza's latest art installation celebrates places in queer and trans nightlife.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1720697258,"stats":{"hasAudio":true,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":10,"wordCount":349},"headData":{"title":"‘All The Nights We Got to Dance’ is a Tribute to Queer Nightlife in SF | KQED","description":"Marcel Pardo Ariza's latest work urges people to take a trip down memory lane through images of gone but not forgotten bar signs from San Francisco's queer and trans nightlife.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialDescription":"Marcel Pardo Ariza's latest work urges people to take a trip down memory lane through images of gone but not forgotten bar signs from San Francisco's queer and trans nightlife.","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"‘All The Nights We Got to Dance’ is a Tribute to Queer Nightlife in SF","datePublished":"2024-06-27T03:00:00-07:00","dateModified":"2024-07-11T04:27:38-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"audioUrl":"https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/chrt.fm/track/G6C7C3/traffic.megaphone.fm/KQINC7628242492.mp3?updated=1719449369","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13960325","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13960325/all-the-nights-we-got-to-dance-is-a-tribute-to-queer-nightlife-in-sf","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Human memory can be triggered by certain smells, sounds or even a photo. It’s funny how the mind works; one small symbol can lead to the rehashing of feelings from years ago.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The latest work from artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/marcelpardoa/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Marcel Pardo Ariza\u003c/a> urges people to take a trip down memory lane by using images of gone-but-not-forgotten bar signs. Pardo Ariza is clear: these bars served more than booze. They were sanctuaries for folks from San Francisco’s queer and trans community, and should be celebrated as such.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960327\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960327 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-800x535.jpg\" alt='Marcel Pardo Ariza wears a blue button-up shirt while standing in front of their latest work behind a windowfront, \"All The Nights We Got To Dance.\"' width=\"800\" height=\"535\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-800x535.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-1020x682.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2-1536x1027.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/Marcel-Pardo-Ariza-by-Pendarvis-Harshaw-2.jpg 1616w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Artist Marcel Pardo Ariza and their latest installation, ‘All The Nights We Got To Dance.’ \u003ccite>(Pendarvis Harshaw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13960341\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13960341 size-medium\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-800x583.jpg\" alt=\"On a yellow background, are illustrations of historic Queer and Trans bar signs including Gene Compton’s Cafeteria, Esta Noche, Amelia’s, The Pendulum and more. \" width=\"800\" height=\"583\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-800x583.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1020x743.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-160x117.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-768x559.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1536x1119.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-2048x1491.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/All-The-Nights-copy-1920x1398.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mockup of the site specific installation ‘All The Nights We Got to Dance.’ \u003ccite>(courtesy of Marcel Pardo Ariza)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All The Nights We Got To Dance\u003c/em> is a site-specific installation in the ground-floor window of The Line Hotel in San Francisco’s Transgender Cultural District. A sunset orange backdrop is covered in hand-painted wooden replicas of bar signs, such as The Lexington, Esta Noche and \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/primary-source-set-finocchios#:~:text=Finocchio's%20opened%20in%20the%20late,tourists%20and%20the%20queer%20community.\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Finocchio’s\u003c/a> — a club credited as one of the earliest incubators of drag shows in the U.S.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13936474","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Born in Colombia and based in Oakland, Pardo Ariza worked closely with \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society \u003c/a>for their latest project\u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">, \u003c/a>leveraging the center’s rich archives to inform their work.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week on Rightnowish, we catch up with Pardo Ariza to take a look at their latest installation before heading over to the GLBT Historical Society’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.glbthistory.org/archives-about-visitor-info\">archives\u003c/a>. There, we meet up with Issac Fellman, the center’s managing reference archivist, who brings us files full of actual handbills, photos, flyers and ephemera from all the nights people danced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c!-- iframe plugin v.4.3 wordpress.org/plugins/iframe/ -->\u003cbr>\n\u003ciframe loading=\"lazy\" frameborder=\"0\" height=\"200\" scrolling=\"no\" src=\"https://playlist.megaphone.fm/?e=KQINC7628242492\" width=\"100%\" class=\"iframe-class\">\u003c/iframe>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003cem>Rightnowish is an arts and culture podcast produced at KQED. Listen to it wherever you get your podcasts or click the play button at the top of this page and subscribe to the show on \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/podcasts/721590300/rightnowish\">NPR One\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://open.spotify.com/show/7kEJuafTzTVan7B78ttz1I\">Spotify\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/rightnowish/id1482187648\">Apple Podcasts\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://tunein.com/podcasts/Arts--Culture-Podcasts/Rightnowish-p1258245/\">TuneIn\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kqed/rightnowish\">Stitcher\u003c/a> or wherever you get your podcasts. \u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13960325/all-the-nights-we-got-to-dance-is-a-tribute-to-queer-nightlife-in-sf","authors":["11491","11528"],"programs":["arts_8720"],"categories":["arts_1"],"tags":["arts_7705","arts_5142","arts_22194","arts_7128","arts_11333","arts_18754","arts_4640","arts_22195"],"featImg":"arts_13960326","label":"arts_8720"},"arts_13963687":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963687","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963687","score":null,"sort":[1725566662000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"taylor-swift-fans-election-kamala-harris-trump-swifties","title":"What Do Taylor Swift Fans Expect From Her in This Election?","publishDate":1725566662,"format":"standard","headTitle":"What Do Taylor Swift Fans Expect From Her in This Election? | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>\u003cem>This story is part of the KQED series \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/fandomvote\">The Fandom Vote\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, exploring the election-year concerns and voting preferences of pop culture fanbases.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the dry heat on a recent Saturday in Sacramento, just half a mile from the state Capitol, a long line of fans waited outside a downtown nightclub to attend a dedicated Taylor Swift party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of these fans was Rachel Hills, who walked the line at \u003ca href=\"https://www.aceofspadessac.com/\">Ace of Spades\u003c/a> handing black Sharpies to those around her, inviting them to write the name of a man who had wronged them on her long, white ball gown she was wearing – a new Swiftie tradition that references the singer’s 2024 song “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Atdzfj8LcuY\">The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived\u003c/a>.” Hills promised she would burn the dress after the show in a form of cathartic release.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Among the scribbled names of ex-boyfriends and family members, someone had written a familiar name at the bottom of Hills’ dress: “Donald Trump.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963714\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963714\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rachel Hills asks a fellow Taylor Swift fan to write on her dress at a Taylor Swift dance party in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Politics is a recurring topic among Taylor Swift’s fanbase, and Swifties – like \u003ca href=\"https://www.technologyreview.com/2023/02/16/1067943/kpop-fans-shaping-elections-worldwide/\">K-Pop stans\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.theringer.com/2016/6/3/16042806/beyonce-beyhive-online-fan-forum-b7c7226ac16d\">the BeyHive\u003c/a> – are known for being diligent organizers. In August, more than 34,000 attendees tuned in to a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13963325/swifties-for-kamala-harris-trump-taylor-swift-fans\">“Swifties for Kamala” Zoom call\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hills said that before Biden stepped aside in July, she’d felt anxiety and dread about a possible second Trump presidency. But then, “Kamala came in and I just, all of a sudden, felt a seed of hope,” she told KQED, specifically citing Harris’ stance on reproductive rights.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='news_11999092']Earlier in her life, Hills “had to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selective_reduction\">selectively reduce\u003c/a> because I was pregnant with conjoined twins and a third baby,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been able to make that decision to save my one daughter’s life if that [procedure] hadn’t been in play … It’s so important for people to have that option, and to be able to make those decisions based on what their doctors are helping them with.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Her daughter is now 16 – and Hills is thinking about the world that she will grow up in. She wants her teen, like all teens, to “feel the freedom to do what they need to do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They are a generation that pull no punches. They are so smart, and they just do things differently,” she said. “I have so much hope for them. But they need a place to start from.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963715\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963715\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jessica Sanchez (left) and Rachel Hill have been fans of Taylor Swift for 10 years and were eager to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>To Hills, it often feels like Swift is “doing things that you would expect the government to do to help,” referencing Swift’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.gofundme.com/f/qyxww9-washington-post-mom\">donations to struggling families\u003c/a> during the pandemic. Swift can even indirectly impel the government to take action, as she did with \u003ca href=\"https://www.forbes.com/sites/virginieberger/2024/06/14/how-taylor-swifts-ticketing-fiasco-fuels-dojs-live-nation-antitrust-lawsuit/\">the Department of Justice’s antitrust lawsuit against Live Nation-Ticketmaster\u003c/a>. The singer, said Hills, “has so much sway. She does so much good.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But she also acknowledges that wanting famous people to be involved in politics is a “double-edged sword.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/tag/elon-musk\">Elon Musk\u003c/a> right now is just going off the rails, and he has so much money and is influencing things,” she said. “I don’t think because you have endless amounts of money that you should have political sway.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Expectations of ‘Miss Americana’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Concisely explaining the singer’s relationship to her public over the past two decades can be difficult, \u003ca href=\"https://annehelen.substack.com/p/taylor-swift-and-the-good-girl-trap\">even contentious\u003c/a>, especially when it comes to politics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How one views Taylor Swift – the figure, the singer, even the activist – often depends on how attuned they are to the latest news around her.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I know that we’ve had the Vienna situation,” said 27-year-old Sacramento resident Alondra Monrroy, who is supporting Kamala Harris. “She’s only one person, but she has a lot of power, so I do hope she’ll speak about [the election]. But at the same time, I understand why she doesn’t.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963716\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963716\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Marcos Alvarado (left) and Alondra Monrrov pose for a photograph outside of Ace of Spades in Sacramento before attending ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ on Aug. 31, 2024. Monrroy donned a ‘Reputation’-inspired look – in part hoping for Swift to soon release her re-recorded version of her sixth studio album. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Monrroy was referencing an incident in late August, when authorities thwarted an attack \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/article/taylor-swift-cia-vienna-concerts-foiled-attack-7e454af63efcff2a3ab0a20c718aba8d#\">intended to kill thousands\u003c/a> at Taylor Swift’s concert in Vienna – reminding many of the \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/article/manchester-ariana-grande-concert-bombing-lawsuit-f2e8298cb045501eff5245392522d29c\">2017 bombing of an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester\u003c/a> that killed 22 people. Swift waited to comment on the incident until the European leg of her tour had concluded, saying that, “The reasons for the cancellations filled me with a new sense of fear, and a tremendous amount of guilt because so many people had planned on coming to those shows.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Let me be very clear: I am not going to speak about something publicly if I think doing so might provoke those who would want to harm the fans who come to my shows,” her statement read. “In cases like this one, ‘silence’ is actually showing restraint.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13960424'] Swift’s social media has gone dark since.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Most people are mad that she stayed quiet [about the Vienna cancellation],” said 19-year-old Leslie Rewinkle. “I’m not sure if it was just that one concert that was going to have people killed or if it was multiple after that, but I’m glad that she stayed quiet. Solely for the fact of protecting everybody and the vicinity of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’ll ask from her just for her to stay true to herself,” she added.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963713\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963713\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Swifites sing their hearts out to ‘You Belong With Me’ during ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Over the years, the rollercoaster of her public image hurdles on – even without her saying \u003ca href=\"https://variety.com/2020/music/features/taylor-swift-politics-sundance-documentary-miss-americana-1203471910/\">very much about politics at all\u003c/a>: In 2017, she was praised online by the \u003ca href=\"https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/taylor-swift-alt-right-icon\">alt-right\u003c/a>, who hailed her as their icon. By the 2020s, conservative outlets and Republicans were decrying her as a \u003ca href=\"https://www.newsweek.com/republican-bizarre-accusation-taylor-swift-witchcraft-1836328\">practitioner of witchcraft\u003c/a> and pledging a “\u003ca href=\"https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-features/donald-trump-more-popular-taylor-swift-maga-biden-1234956829/\">holy war\u003c/a>” against her.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trump’s presidency encouraged many celebrities to speak vocally about politics, with \u003ca href=\"https://www.theverge.com/interface/2020/1/16/21067483/chris-evans-starting-point-vanity-project-captain-america-democracy\">varying degrees of success\u003c/a> or \u003ca href=\"https://www.thecut.com/article/womans-world-review-katy-perry-is-stuck-in-2016.html\">savviness\u003c/a>. But for Swift, she \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/BopoXpYnCes/?hl=en\">made waves\u003c/a> when she made her first endorsement of a candidate – a Democrat – in 2018.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936377\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13936377\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238.jpg\" alt=\"A slender young white woman with long blonde hair throws her arms out to her sides, mid-performance, with a sea of dry ice behind her. She is wearing a one-legged black bodysuit embellished with red snakes and holding a microphone in her right hand.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1471\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-800x613.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-1020x781.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-160x123.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-768x588.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-1536x1177.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Taylor Swift performs during ‘The Eras Tour’ on March 17, 2023.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Miss Americana\u003c/em>, a self-made 2020 documentary about Swift, revealed that the singer pushed hard for this endorsement. In one pivotal scene, Swift is surrounded by mostly men – including her father – who are seen vocally dissuading her from endorsing the Democratic Tennessee senatorial candidate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching the documentary, the legacy of female country band The Chicks clearly loomed large over her management’s heads. The female country band, once beloved, were \u003ca href=\"https://19thnews.org/2023/03/the-chicks-silenced-politics-20-years-influence-country-music/\">viciously ostracized\u003c/a> by the music industry and fans after expressing anger for then-President George W. Bush and the Iraq invasion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But Swift cited her strong reaction against Trump – and the Republican senatorial candidate Marsha Blackburn, whom she saw as a threat to \u003ca href=\"https://variety.com/2020/music/features/taylor-swift-politics-sundance-documentary-miss-americana-1203471910/\">feminism and LGBTQ+ rights\u003c/a> – as a need to be “the right side of history.” In fact, the song “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJU-S1t2r1M\">Only the Young\u003c/a>,” released with \u003cem>Miss Americana\u003c/em>, directly references the kind of despair her young fans may be feeling due to the Republican presidency: “It keeps me awake / The look on your face / The moment you heard the news / You’re screaming inside.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://x.com/taylorswift13/status/1266392274549776387?lang=en\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-13963717\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1114\" height=\"430\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM.png 1114w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-800x309.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-1020x394.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-160x62.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-768x296.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1114px) 100vw, 1114px\">\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since, Swift has been vocal about women’s rights and supporting Democrats, and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2020-election/taylor-swift-endorses-joe-biden-president-n1242483\">endorsed Joe Biden in 2020\u003c/a>. In the midst of her wildly popular \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11956083/taylor-swift-levis-stadium-eras-santa-clara-tickets\">Eras world tour\u003c/a>, her critics from the left often say she is not doing enough. Most recently, Swift’s been criticized for not pushing back publicly against Trump for \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2024/08/30/nx-s1-5087913/donald-trump-artificial-intelligence-memes-deepfakes-taylor-swift\">his use of AI images of her\u003c/a>, fabricating an endorsement for him. (It’s worth noting that the \u003ca href=\"https://www.msnbc.com/deadline-white-house/deadline-legal-blog/taylor-swift-sue-trump-truth-social-post-ai-rcna167380\">legal recourse\u003c/a> for using AI is generally still pretty fuzzy.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13868272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13868272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"843\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-1200x674.jpg 1200w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Taylor Swift performs during a Tiny Desk concert on Oct. 10, 2019. \u003ccite>(Bob Boilen/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These are not people who hate Taylor Swift, necessarily. Some of her harshest critics are her fans. The inherent intimacy of this kind of fandom, combined with the platform for one’s thoughts that social media provides, has for many turned the role of ‘fan’ into a kind of policing force, watching and commenting and posting on a singer’s personal life – mostly \u003ca href=\"https://www.thedailybeast.com/obsessed/why-do-harry-styles-fans-hate-olivia-wilde\">their romantic life\u003c/a>. Swift \u003ca href=\"https://www.glamour.com/story/taylor-swift-really-hates-matty-healy-and-also-maybe-us\">expressed distaste\u003c/a> for this kind of fan behavior in a recent song, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2W173hRfyA\">But Daddy I Love Him\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>19-year-old Tae Siera, who was attending the Sacramento Swift party with Rewinkle, said that fans who are too young to vote – and feel like they cannot make change – try to express their opinions \u003cem>by\u003c/em> putting pressure on celebrities to speak out.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think it’s important for celebrities to somewhat say, ‘Here’s where I stand,’” said Siera. But then fans need to “go out there and make change.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963718\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963718\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Leslie Rewinkle (left) and Tae Siera show their friendship bracelets while waiting in line to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Write \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11967439/how-can-i-call-my-representative-a-step-by-step-guide-to-the-process\">letters to your local Congress\u003c/a>. You can talk to your parents to see if they’re voting the way that you want to. Try to educate the adults in your life, because a lot of them actually are not as informed as you think they are,” Siera said. “[Swift] can only do so much, and then it’s up to everyone else to really make that change themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>What are the issues on top of Swifties’ minds?\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>While the Swift fans in Sacramento also cited concerns over immigration justice, LGBTQ+ rights and student-loan forgiveness as electoral priorities for November, attendees overwhelmingly said they were worried about attacks on abortion. 20-year-old Karen Solano said she felt fear for how America is “just going back” on reproductive rights.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I feel like a lot of people don’t know how devastating it is for women right now,” Solano said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963719\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1390px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963719\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1390\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_.jpg 1390w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-800x384.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-1020x489.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-160x77.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-768x369.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1390px) 100vw, 1390px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left, Karen Solano, Debora Rosales and Selne Rosales stand in line on R Street waiting to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. At right, Solano’s ‘Speak Now’ necklace. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>26-year-old Debora Rosales, waiting in line alongside Solano, agreed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The rights that women have worked so hard for – just how hard they work to get to where we are – and to have that be so easily taken away from us … It’s just really heartbreaking,” said Rosales. “We just got to keep fighting and got to keep being outspoken about everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13955679']Like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11999092/olivia-rodrigo-fans-abortion-kamala-harris-election-2024\">fellow pop star Olivia Rodrigo\u003c/a>, Swift herself has \u003ca href=\"https://x.com/taylorswift13/status/1540382753677627393?lang=en\">commented\u003c/a> on the overturn of Roe vs. Wade: “I’m absolutely terrified that this is where we are — that after so many decades of people fighting for women’s rights to their own bodies, today’s decision has stripped us of that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s the type of statement that Christina Parker, 35, and Courtney Parker, 31, appreciate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“She’s very verbal about where she stands, which is pretty incredible, especially coming from a \u003ca href=\"https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-country-lists/teardrops-on-her-guitar-taylor-swifts-10-countriest-songs-164352/\">background of country\u003c/a>,” said Christina. It “shouldn’t be a question” if she or anyone has an ectopic pregnancy and may need a procedure to save her life, she said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963720\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1494px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963720\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1494\" height=\"739\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_.jpg 1494w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-800x396.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-1020x505.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-160x79.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-768x380.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1494px) 100vw, 1494px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">At left, Taylor swift fans Courtney Parker and Christina Parker show their friendship bracelets while waiting in line; at right, Courtney Parker (left) and Christina Parker wait in line on R Street to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The two say they also see themselves in Kamala Harris, the first Black and South Asian woman to hold the Vice Presidential role.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s an emotional time, honestly,” Christina said. “Especially looking how we look and how we present, and having somebody who is running for office that looks and represents us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My hope is that if Kamala wins, Taylor performs at her inauguration,” said Courtney.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963722\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963722\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ashly Smith and Maddy Meckel showcase their friendship bracelets before attending ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. Smith has several tattoos dedicated to Taylor Swift – including one that reminds her of her mother, who passed away when Smith was 19. ‘She always did these dances [to Swift’s songs]. Now I look back and I’m like, ‘Those were the cutest things in the whole world.’’ \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>26-year-olds Ashly Smith and Maddey Meckel said they ultimately hope Swift will eventually publicly endorse Harris – especially because of the galvanizing effect it would have on the youth vote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is the first election I’m going to vote in,” Meckel said, “that I actually feel proud to vote for a candidate.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Read more stories of pop-culture fandoms and the election in the KQED series \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/fandomvote\">The Fandom Vote\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Swifties understand why Taylor’s socials have gone dark, but still hope for a Kamala Harris endorsement. \r\n","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725714088,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":46,"wordCount":2415},"headData":{"title":"What Do Taylor Swift Fans Expect From Her in This Election? | KQED","description":"Swifties understand why Taylor’s socials have gone dark, but still hope for a Kamala Harris endorsement. \r\n","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"What Do Taylor Swift Fans Expect From Her in This Election?","datePublished":"2024-09-05T13:04:22-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-07T06:01:28-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"The Fandom Vote","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/fandomvote","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963687","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963687/taylor-swift-fans-election-kamala-harris-trump-swifties","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>This story is part of the KQED series \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/fandomvote\">The Fandom Vote\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, exploring the election-year concerns and voting preferences of pop culture fanbases.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the dry heat on a recent Saturday in Sacramento, just half a mile from the state Capitol, a long line of fans waited outside a downtown nightclub to attend a dedicated Taylor Swift party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of these fans was Rachel Hills, who walked the line at \u003ca href=\"https://www.aceofspadessac.com/\">Ace of Spades\u003c/a> handing black Sharpies to those around her, inviting them to write the name of a man who had wronged them on her long, white ball gown she was wearing – a new Swiftie tradition that references the singer’s 2024 song “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Atdzfj8LcuY\">The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived\u003c/a>.” Hills promised she would burn the dress after the show in a form of cathartic release.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Among the scribbled names of ex-boyfriends and family members, someone had written a familiar name at the bottom of Hills’ dress: “Donald Trump.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963714\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963714\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-2-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rachel Hills asks a fellow Taylor Swift fan to write on her dress at a Taylor Swift dance party in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Politics is a recurring topic among Taylor Swift’s fanbase, and Swifties – like \u003ca href=\"https://www.technologyreview.com/2023/02/16/1067943/kpop-fans-shaping-elections-worldwide/\">K-Pop stans\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.theringer.com/2016/6/3/16042806/beyonce-beyhive-online-fan-forum-b7c7226ac16d\">the BeyHive\u003c/a> – are known for being diligent organizers. In August, more than 34,000 attendees tuned in to a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13963325/swifties-for-kamala-harris-trump-taylor-swift-fans\">“Swifties for Kamala” Zoom call\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hills said that before Biden stepped aside in July, she’d felt anxiety and dread about a possible second Trump presidency. But then, “Kamala came in and I just, all of a sudden, felt a seed of hope,” she told KQED, specifically citing Harris’ stance on reproductive rights.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"news_11999092","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Earlier in her life, Hills “had to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selective_reduction\">selectively reduce\u003c/a> because I was pregnant with conjoined twins and a third baby,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been able to make that decision to save my one daughter’s life if that [procedure] hadn’t been in play … It’s so important for people to have that option, and to be able to make those decisions based on what their doctors are helping them with.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Her daughter is now 16 – and Hills is thinking about the world that she will grow up in. She wants her teen, like all teens, to “feel the freedom to do what they need to do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“They are a generation that pull no punches. They are so smart, and they just do things differently,” she said. “I have so much hope for them. But they need a place to start from.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963715\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963715\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-3-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jessica Sanchez (left) and Rachel Hill have been fans of Taylor Swift for 10 years and were eager to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>To Hills, it often feels like Swift is “doing things that you would expect the government to do to help,” referencing Swift’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.gofundme.com/f/qyxww9-washington-post-mom\">donations to struggling families\u003c/a> during the pandemic. Swift can even indirectly impel the government to take action, as she did with \u003ca href=\"https://www.forbes.com/sites/virginieberger/2024/06/14/how-taylor-swifts-ticketing-fiasco-fuels-dojs-live-nation-antitrust-lawsuit/\">the Department of Justice’s antitrust lawsuit against Live Nation-Ticketmaster\u003c/a>. The singer, said Hills, “has so much sway. She does so much good.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But she also acknowledges that wanting famous people to be involved in politics is a “double-edged sword.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/tag/elon-musk\">Elon Musk\u003c/a> right now is just going off the rails, and he has so much money and is influencing things,” she said. “I don’t think because you have endless amounts of money that you should have political sway.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Expectations of ‘Miss Americana’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Concisely explaining the singer’s relationship to her public over the past two decades can be difficult, \u003ca href=\"https://annehelen.substack.com/p/taylor-swift-and-the-good-girl-trap\">even contentious\u003c/a>, especially when it comes to politics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>How one views Taylor Swift – the figure, the singer, even the activist – often depends on how attuned they are to the latest news around her.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I know that we’ve had the Vienna situation,” said 27-year-old Sacramento resident Alondra Monrroy, who is supporting Kamala Harris. “She’s only one person, but she has a lot of power, so I do hope she’ll speak about [the election]. But at the same time, I understand why she doesn’t.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963716\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963716\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-4-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Marcos Alvarado (left) and Alondra Monrrov pose for a photograph outside of Ace of Spades in Sacramento before attending ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ on Aug. 31, 2024. Monrroy donned a ‘Reputation’-inspired look – in part hoping for Swift to soon release her re-recorded version of her sixth studio album. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Monrroy was referencing an incident in late August, when authorities thwarted an attack \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/article/taylor-swift-cia-vienna-concerts-foiled-attack-7e454af63efcff2a3ab0a20c718aba8d#\">intended to kill thousands\u003c/a> at Taylor Swift’s concert in Vienna – reminding many of the \u003ca href=\"https://apnews.com/article/manchester-ariana-grande-concert-bombing-lawsuit-f2e8298cb045501eff5245392522d29c\">2017 bombing of an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester\u003c/a> that killed 22 people. Swift waited to comment on the incident until the European leg of her tour had concluded, saying that, “The reasons for the cancellations filled me with a new sense of fear, and a tremendous amount of guilt because so many people had planned on coming to those shows.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Let me be very clear: I am not going to speak about something publicly if I think doing so might provoke those who would want to harm the fans who come to my shows,” her statement read. “In cases like this one, ‘silence’ is actually showing restraint.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13960424","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp> Swift’s social media has gone dark since.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Most people are mad that she stayed quiet [about the Vienna cancellation],” said 19-year-old Leslie Rewinkle. “I’m not sure if it was just that one concert that was going to have people killed or if it was multiple after that, but I’m glad that she stayed quiet. Solely for the fact of protecting everybody and the vicinity of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’ll ask from her just for her to stay true to herself,” she added.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963713\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963713\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Swifites sing their hearts out to ‘You Belong With Me’ during ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Over the years, the rollercoaster of her public image hurdles on – even without her saying \u003ca href=\"https://variety.com/2020/music/features/taylor-swift-politics-sundance-documentary-miss-americana-1203471910/\">very much about politics at all\u003c/a>: In 2017, she was praised online by the \u003ca href=\"https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/taylor-swift-alt-right-icon\">alt-right\u003c/a>, who hailed her as their icon. By the 2020s, conservative outlets and Republicans were decrying her as a \u003ca href=\"https://www.newsweek.com/republican-bizarre-accusation-taylor-swift-witchcraft-1836328\">practitioner of witchcraft\u003c/a> and pledging a “\u003ca href=\"https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-features/donald-trump-more-popular-taylor-swift-maga-biden-1234956829/\">holy war\u003c/a>” against her.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trump’s presidency encouraged many celebrities to speak vocally about politics, with \u003ca href=\"https://www.theverge.com/interface/2020/1/16/21067483/chris-evans-starting-point-vanity-project-captain-america-democracy\">varying degrees of success\u003c/a> or \u003ca href=\"https://www.thecut.com/article/womans-world-review-katy-perry-is-stuck-in-2016.html\">savviness\u003c/a>. But for Swift, she \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/BopoXpYnCes/?hl=en\">made waves\u003c/a> when she made her first endorsement of a candidate – a Democrat – in 2018.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13936377\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13936377\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238.jpg\" alt=\"A slender young white woman with long blonde hair throws her arms out to her sides, mid-performance, with a sea of dry ice behind her. She is wearing a one-legged black bodysuit embellished with red snakes and holding a microphone in her right hand.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1471\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-800x613.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-1020x781.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-160x123.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-768x588.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/10/GettyImages-1474269174-scaled-e1697219621238-1536x1177.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Taylor Swift performs during ‘The Eras Tour’ on March 17, 2023.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Miss Americana\u003c/em>, a self-made 2020 documentary about Swift, revealed that the singer pushed hard for this endorsement. In one pivotal scene, Swift is surrounded by mostly men – including her father – who are seen vocally dissuading her from endorsing the Democratic Tennessee senatorial candidate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching the documentary, the legacy of female country band The Chicks clearly loomed large over her management’s heads. The female country band, once beloved, were \u003ca href=\"https://19thnews.org/2023/03/the-chicks-silenced-politics-20-years-influence-country-music/\">viciously ostracized\u003c/a> by the music industry and fans after expressing anger for then-President George W. Bush and the Iraq invasion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But Swift cited her strong reaction against Trump – and the Republican senatorial candidate Marsha Blackburn, whom she saw as a threat to \u003ca href=\"https://variety.com/2020/music/features/taylor-swift-politics-sundance-documentary-miss-americana-1203471910/\">feminism and LGBTQ+ rights\u003c/a> – as a need to be “the right side of history.” In fact, the song “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJU-S1t2r1M\">Only the Young\u003c/a>,” released with \u003cem>Miss Americana\u003c/em>, directly references the kind of despair her young fans may be feeling due to the Republican presidency: “It keeps me awake / The look on your face / The moment you heard the news / You’re screaming inside.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://x.com/taylorswift13/status/1266392274549776387?lang=en\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-13963717\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1114\" height=\"430\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM.png 1114w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-800x309.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-1020x394.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-160x62.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Screenshot-2024-09-05-at-12.07.12-PM-768x296.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1114px) 100vw, 1114px\">\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since, Swift has been vocal about women’s rights and supporting Democrats, and \u003ca href=\"https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2020-election/taylor-swift-endorses-joe-biden-president-n1242483\">endorsed Joe Biden in 2020\u003c/a>. In the midst of her wildly popular \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11956083/taylor-swift-levis-stadium-eras-santa-clara-tickets\">Eras world tour\u003c/a>, her critics from the left often say she is not doing enough. Most recently, Swift’s been criticized for not pushing back publicly against Trump for \u003ca href=\"https://www.npr.org/2024/08/30/nx-s1-5087913/donald-trump-artificial-intelligence-memes-deepfakes-taylor-swift\">his use of AI images of her\u003c/a>, fabricating an endorsement for him. (It’s worth noting that the \u003ca href=\"https://www.msnbc.com/deadline-white-house/deadline-legal-blog/taylor-swift-sue-trump-truth-social-post-ai-rcna167380\">legal recourse\u003c/a> for using AI is generally still pretty fuzzy.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13868272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13868272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"843\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2019/10/taylorswift-bboilen02_wide-dbc4e595dab7bf7e15d7a9a788dd5548d61e4861-1200x674.jpg 1200w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Taylor Swift performs during a Tiny Desk concert on Oct. 10, 2019. \u003ccite>(Bob Boilen/NPR)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These are not people who hate Taylor Swift, necessarily. Some of her harshest critics are her fans. The inherent intimacy of this kind of fandom, combined with the platform for one’s thoughts that social media provides, has for many turned the role of ‘fan’ into a kind of policing force, watching and commenting and posting on a singer’s personal life – mostly \u003ca href=\"https://www.thedailybeast.com/obsessed/why-do-harry-styles-fans-hate-olivia-wilde\">their romantic life\u003c/a>. Swift \u003ca href=\"https://www.glamour.com/story/taylor-swift-really-hates-matty-healy-and-also-maybe-us\">expressed distaste\u003c/a> for this kind of fan behavior in a recent song, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2W173hRfyA\">But Daddy I Love Him\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>19-year-old Tae Siera, who was attending the Sacramento Swift party with Rewinkle, said that fans who are too young to vote – and feel like they cannot make change – try to express their opinions \u003cem>by\u003c/em> putting pressure on celebrities to speak out.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I think it’s important for celebrities to somewhat say, ‘Here’s where I stand,’” said Siera. But then fans need to “go out there and make change.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963718\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963718\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-5-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Leslie Rewinkle (left) and Tae Siera show their friendship bracelets while waiting in line to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“Write \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11967439/how-can-i-call-my-representative-a-step-by-step-guide-to-the-process\">letters to your local Congress\u003c/a>. You can talk to your parents to see if they’re voting the way that you want to. Try to educate the adults in your life, because a lot of them actually are not as informed as you think they are,” Siera said. “[Swift] can only do so much, and then it’s up to everyone else to really make that change themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>What are the issues on top of Swifties’ minds?\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>While the Swift fans in Sacramento also cited concerns over immigration justice, LGBTQ+ rights and student-loan forgiveness as electoral priorities for November, attendees overwhelmingly said they were worried about attacks on abortion. 20-year-old Karen Solano said she felt fear for how America is “just going back” on reproductive rights.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I feel like a lot of people don’t know how devastating it is for women right now,” Solano said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963719\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1390px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963719\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1390\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_.jpg 1390w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-800x384.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-1020x489.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-160x77.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dipt.tay_-768x369.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1390px) 100vw, 1390px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">From left, Karen Solano, Debora Rosales and Selne Rosales stand in line on R Street waiting to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. At right, Solano’s ‘Speak Now’ necklace. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>26-year-old Debora Rosales, waiting in line alongside Solano, agreed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The rights that women have worked so hard for – just how hard they work to get to where we are – and to have that be so easily taken away from us … It’s just really heartbreaking,” said Rosales. “We just got to keep fighting and got to keep being outspoken about everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13955679","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Like \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11999092/olivia-rodrigo-fans-abortion-kamala-harris-election-2024\">fellow pop star Olivia Rodrigo\u003c/a>, Swift herself has \u003ca href=\"https://x.com/taylorswift13/status/1540382753677627393?lang=en\">commented\u003c/a> on the overturn of Roe vs. Wade: “I’m absolutely terrified that this is where we are — that after so many decades of people fighting for women’s rights to their own bodies, today’s decision has stripped us of that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s the type of statement that Christina Parker, 35, and Courtney Parker, 31, appreciate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“She’s very verbal about where she stands, which is pretty incredible, especially coming from a \u003ca href=\"https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-country-lists/teardrops-on-her-guitar-taylor-swifts-10-countriest-songs-164352/\">background of country\u003c/a>,” said Christina. It “shouldn’t be a question” if she or anyone has an ectopic pregnancy and may need a procedure to save her life, she said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963720\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1494px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963720\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1494\" height=\"739\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_.jpg 1494w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-800x396.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-1020x505.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-160x79.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/dip2.tay_-768x380.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1494px) 100vw, 1494px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">At left, Taylor swift fans Courtney Parker and Christina Parker show their friendship bracelets while waiting in line; at right, Courtney Parker (left) and Christina Parker wait in line on R Street to attend ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The two say they also see themselves in Kamala Harris, the first Black and South Asian woman to hold the Vice Presidential role.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s an emotional time, honestly,” Christina said. “Especially looking how we look and how we present, and having somebody who is running for office that looks and represents us.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My hope is that if Kamala wins, Taylor performs at her inauguration,” said Courtney.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963722\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963722\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/download-1-1-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ashly Smith and Maddy Meckel showcase their friendship bracelets before attending ‘The Taylor Party: Taylor Night’ at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Aug. 31, 2024. Smith has several tattoos dedicated to Taylor Swift – including one that reminds her of her mother, who passed away when Smith was 19. ‘She always did these dances [to Swift’s songs]. Now I look back and I’m like, ‘Those were the cutest things in the whole world.’’ \u003ccite>(Madelaine Church for KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>26-year-olds Ashly Smith and Maddey Meckel said they ultimately hope Swift will eventually publicly endorse Harris – especially because of the galvanizing effect it would have on the youth vote.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is the first election I’m going to vote in,” Meckel said, “that I actually feel proud to vote for a candidate.”\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Read more stories of pop-culture fandoms and the election in the KQED series \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/fandomvote\">The Fandom Vote\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963687/taylor-swift-fans-election-kamala-harris-trump-swifties","authors":["11867"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_835","arts_69","arts_235","arts_75"],"tags":["arts_10342","arts_4949","arts_22277","arts_22227","arts_10278","arts_22224","arts_822","arts_3026"],"featImg":"arts_13963721","label":"source_arts_13963687"},"arts_13963560":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963560","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963560","score":null,"sort":[1725394180000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"sfmoma-unity-through-skateboarding-bipoc-queer-trans-skaters","title":"SFMOMA’s ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ Celebrates BIPOC, Queer and Trans Skaters","publishDate":1725394180,"format":"standard","headTitle":"SFMOMA’s ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ Celebrates BIPOC, Queer and Trans Skaters | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>All of us can easily picture what a skateboard looks like. Four wheels below a wooden deck with all the fixings (trucks, baseplates, risers, bushings, you get the gist) that create an instantly recognizable mode of transportation, source of fun and personalized style. But for anyone who has never been part of a skate community or skated in a contest, cultural knowledge about the sport usually stops there.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13961542']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enter Jeffrey Cheung and Gabriel Ramirez, founders of local skate collective \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/unityskateboarding/\">Unity\u003c/a> and now guest curators at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Their new vivid installation, \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/unity-through-skateboarding/\">Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, celebrates queer, trans, BIPOC and women skaters of the past and present, including the tight-knit communities they form. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Although the exhibition takes up only two rooms, Cheung and Ramirez have packed every inch of space with their collection. One of the first things you notice when you walk into the space is just how much vibrant color you’re surrounded by. Hanging in four neat rows on the wall in the first room of the exhibition are more than 30 skate decks, each featuring original painted artwork. Some of Cheung’s own artwork, which portrays bodies of all sizes, colors and shapes interwoven together on Unity skateboards, appears alongside designs by skaters like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mimiknoop/?hl=en\">Mimi Knoop\u003c/a> and the Oakland artist and skater \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/marbie.princess/\">Marbie\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963571\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000.jpg\" alt=\"White wall with grid of vertically arranged skate decks\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1422\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963571\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-800x569.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1020x725.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-768x546.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1536x1092.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1920x1365.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">An installation view of ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Tenari Tuatagaloa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On the opposing wall, you’ll find large banners and smaller pieces of artwork containing bits of typed reflections, handwritten announcements and pages of zines. In the center of the room is a large glass display case featuring copies of skate magazines with prominent skaters from across the globe on the covers. It’s a good reminder of just how far skate culture and community can reach, from the Bay Area, to Chicago’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.froskate.com/\">froSkate\u003c/a>, and even overseas in places like Ethiopia and the Philippines. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The installation comes at a time when skateboarding’s popularity, especially among young women and queer skaters, is higher than ever. Internationally, skaters like Brazil’s Rayssa Leal and Japan’s Cocona Hiraki have helped boost the sport in their home countries and on international stages like the Summer Olympics and X Games. In the United States, notable skaters like Alexis Sablone and Bryce Wettstein, combined with opportunities and support from skate groups like \u003ca href=\"https://www.girlisnota4letterword.com/\">Girl Is NOT A 4 Letter Word\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.skatelikeagirl.com/\">Skate Like a Girl\u003c/a> and Unity have helped propel skaters of all backgrounds and identities into the sport. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/i> is not only a collection, it’s an ode to these BIPOC, queer, trans and women skaters. That was evident as I entered the second room of the installation, which features three full walls of photos and portraits, a skate box covered in handwritten, heartfelt messages and artwork, and six television screens stacked two high, running multiple skate tapes on a loop. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963570\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000.jpg\" alt=\"two images of femme skaters doing tricks, one in black-and-white, one in color\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1460\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963570\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-800x584.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1020x745.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-160x117.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-768x561.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1536x1121.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1920x1402.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">L: Kevin Thatcher, ‘Stephanie Person, Boneless, Derby Skatepark, Santa Cruz,’ 1985; R: Sean Carabarin, ‘Cher Strauberry, Slappy at Bricks,’ 2021. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Thrasher Magazine and Unity)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The skate footage stuck out to me in particular; it really is an act of love to be filmed by someone else while skateboarding. A skate video means someone cares enough to make sure your every attempt at a new trick is captured at a good angle and in decent lighting. It means you have someone who can film police officers who try to detain and immobilize skaters, as some of the clips show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13963016']What makes these videos stand out, too, is that the tapes also include non-skating activities: skaters drinking tea, performing live music with drums and guitars, screen printing T-shirts and simply hanging out. It’s a message clearly conveyed by Cheung and Ramirez that skateboarding is about so much more than the contests and tricks you can land. Skate culture is about friendship, community and liberation from social norms. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Thinking more widely, skate culture is also about place, resistance and politics. Yes, you’ll see copies of more mainstream skate magazines like \u003ci>Thrasher\u003c/i> in the exhibition’s collection, but you’ll also see political banners, zines and other works of art that tie skateboarding and direct action together. One page of art hanging on a wall reads, “Trans rights are human rights!” while another calls for a free Palestine. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963573\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000.jpg\" alt=\"close-up of wall covered in art, zines and flyers\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1546\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963573\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-800x618.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1020x788.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-768x594.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1536x1187.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1920x1484.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">An installation view of ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Tenari Tuatagaloa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to freedom and community, this collection is about love. Videos of skaters holding hands and skating in tandem, handwritten messages of “I love my trans friends” on a skatepark box, and photos of skaters smiling are all evidence of just how deeply enriching and loving skate communities can be for their members, especially for those from marginalized communities. And just as much as it is a dedication of support and love, it’s also the start of an archive, a point to look back on to measure how far skating has come in terms of inclusion and intersectionality. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether you’re a skater or not, you’ll definitely want to spend a little extra time in this exhibition really absorbing how skate culture has been, and continues to be, shaped by lenses like race, class and gender. And for those who are a little more up to snuff on skate history and figures, there are plenty of Easter eggs in the show. If you look closely enough, you may catch a glimpse of skate legends Cara-Beth Burnside, Mariah Duran, Jenn Soto and others who haven’t so much paved the way as they have ollied over it.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/unity-through-skateboarding/\">Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/a>’ is on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through April 27, 2025.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"The show curated by Jeffrey Cheung and Gabriel Ramirez is an ode to tight-knit skating communities.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725494082,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":15,"wordCount":989},"headData":{"title":"‘Unity Through Skateboarding’: A Vivid Show at SFMOMA | KQED","description":"The show curated by Jeffrey Cheung and Gabriel Ramirez is an ode to tight-knit skating communities.","ogTitle":"SFMOMA’s ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ Celebrates BIPOC, Queer and Trans Skaters","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"SFMOMA’s ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ Celebrates BIPOC, Queer and Trans Skaters","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"‘Unity Through Skateboarding’: A Vivid Show at SFMOMA %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"SFMOMA’s ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ Celebrates BIPOC, Queer and Trans Skaters","datePublished":"2024-09-03T13:09:40-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-04T16:54:42-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963560","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963560/sfmoma-unity-through-skateboarding-bipoc-queer-trans-skaters","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>All of us can easily picture what a skateboard looks like. Four wheels below a wooden deck with all the fixings (trucks, baseplates, risers, bushings, you get the gist) that create an instantly recognizable mode of transportation, source of fun and personalized style. But for anyone who has never been part of a skate community or skated in a contest, cultural knowledge about the sport usually stops there.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13961542","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enter Jeffrey Cheung and Gabriel Ramirez, founders of local skate collective \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/unityskateboarding/\">Unity\u003c/a> and now guest curators at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Their new vivid installation, \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/unity-through-skateboarding/\">Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, celebrates queer, trans, BIPOC and women skaters of the past and present, including the tight-knit communities they form. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Although the exhibition takes up only two rooms, Cheung and Ramirez have packed every inch of space with their collection. One of the first things you notice when you walk into the space is just how much vibrant color you’re surrounded by. Hanging in four neat rows on the wall in the first room of the exhibition are more than 30 skate decks, each featuring original painted artwork. Some of Cheung’s own artwork, which portrays bodies of all sizes, colors and shapes interwoven together on Unity skateboards, appears alongside designs by skaters like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/mimiknoop/?hl=en\">Mimi Knoop\u003c/a> and the Oakland artist and skater \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/marbie.princess/\">Marbie\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963571\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000.jpg\" alt=\"White wall with grid of vertically arranged skate decks\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1422\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963571\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-800x569.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1020x725.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-768x546.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1536x1092.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_Install-View1_2000-1920x1365.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">An installation view of ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Tenari Tuatagaloa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On the opposing wall, you’ll find large banners and smaller pieces of artwork containing bits of typed reflections, handwritten announcements and pages of zines. In the center of the room is a large glass display case featuring copies of skate magazines with prominent skaters from across the globe on the covers. It’s a good reminder of just how far skate culture and community can reach, from the Bay Area, to Chicago’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.froskate.com/\">froSkate\u003c/a>, and even overseas in places like Ethiopia and the Philippines. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The installation comes at a time when skateboarding’s popularity, especially among young women and queer skaters, is higher than ever. Internationally, skaters like Brazil’s Rayssa Leal and Japan’s Cocona Hiraki have helped boost the sport in their home countries and on international stages like the Summer Olympics and X Games. In the United States, notable skaters like Alexis Sablone and Bryce Wettstein, combined with opportunities and support from skate groups like \u003ca href=\"https://www.girlisnota4letterword.com/\">Girl Is NOT A 4 Letter Word\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.skatelikeagirl.com/\">Skate Like a Girl\u003c/a> and Unity have helped propel skaters of all backgrounds and identities into the sport. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/i> is not only a collection, it’s an ode to these BIPOC, queer, trans and women skaters. That was evident as I entered the second room of the installation, which features three full walls of photos and portraits, a skate box covered in handwritten, heartfelt messages and artwork, and six television screens stacked two high, running multiple skate tapes on a loop. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963570\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000.jpg\" alt=\"two images of femme skaters doing tricks, one in black-and-white, one in color\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1460\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963570\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-800x584.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1020x745.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-160x117.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-768x561.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1536x1121.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/03_Kevin-Thatcher_Stephanie-Person_2000-1920x1402.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">L: Kevin Thatcher, ‘Stephanie Person, Boneless, Derby Skatepark, Santa Cruz,’ 1985; R: Sean Carabarin, ‘Cher Strauberry, Slappy at Bricks,’ 2021. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Thrasher Magazine and Unity)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The skate footage stuck out to me in particular; it really is an act of love to be filmed by someone else while skateboarding. A skate video means someone cares enough to make sure your every attempt at a new trick is captured at a good angle and in decent lighting. It means you have someone who can film police officers who try to detain and immobilize skaters, as some of the clips show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963016","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>What makes these videos stand out, too, is that the tapes also include non-skating activities: skaters drinking tea, performing live music with drums and guitars, screen printing T-shirts and simply hanging out. It’s a message clearly conveyed by Cheung and Ramirez that skateboarding is about so much more than the contests and tricks you can land. Skate culture is about friendship, community and liberation from social norms. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Thinking more widely, skate culture is also about place, resistance and politics. Yes, you’ll see copies of more mainstream skate magazines like \u003ci>Thrasher\u003c/i> in the exhibition’s collection, but you’ll also see political banners, zines and other works of art that tie skateboarding and direct action together. One page of art hanging on a wall reads, “Trans rights are human rights!” while another calls for a free Palestine. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963573\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000.jpg\" alt=\"close-up of wall covered in art, zines and flyers\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1546\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963573\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-800x618.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1020x788.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-768x594.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1536x1187.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/Unity-through-Skateboarding-at-SFMOMA_InstallView3_2000-1920x1484.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">An installation view of ‘Unity Through Skateboarding’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Tenari Tuatagaloa)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to freedom and community, this collection is about love. Videos of skaters holding hands and skating in tandem, handwritten messages of “I love my trans friends” on a skatepark box, and photos of skaters smiling are all evidence of just how deeply enriching and loving skate communities can be for their members, especially for those from marginalized communities. And just as much as it is a dedication of support and love, it’s also the start of an archive, a point to look back on to measure how far skating has come in terms of inclusion and intersectionality. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether you’re a skater or not, you’ll definitely want to spend a little extra time in this exhibition really absorbing how skate culture has been, and continues to be, shaped by lenses like race, class and gender. And for those who are a little more up to snuff on skate history and figures, there are plenty of Easter eggs in the show. If you look closely enough, you may catch a glimpse of skate legends Cara-Beth Burnside, Mariah Duran, Jenn Soto and others who haven’t so much paved the way as they have ollied over it.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/unity-through-skateboarding/\">Unity Through Skateboarding\u003c/a>’ is on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through April 27, 2025.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963560/sfmoma-unity-through-skateboarding-bipoc-queer-trans-skaters","authors":["11919"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_835","arts_13238","arts_70"],"tags":["arts_10342","arts_10278","arts_769","arts_1381","arts_1442","arts_585"],"featImg":"arts_13963572","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13963491":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963491","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963491","score":null,"sort":[1725061579000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"ica-san-francisco-contemporary-art-museum-trump-financial-district","title":"San Francisco Art Museum to Move Into Building Co-Owned by Trump","publishDate":1725061579,"format":"standard","headTitle":"San Francisco Art Museum to Move Into Building Co-Owned by Trump | KQED","labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>The \u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/\">Institute of Contemporary Art San Francisco\u003c/a> announced today that it will soon move from its current location in the Dogpatch neighborhood to 345 Montgomery St. in the Financial District, a building co-owned by Vornado Realty Trust and the Trump Organization.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The property is anchored by a 52-story tower at 555 California St., the former flagship building for Bank of America, which the Trump Organization \u003ca href=\"https://www.trump.com/commercial-real-estate-portfolio/555-california-street\">describes in its list of holdings\u003c/a> as an “iconic business address towering over San Francisco.” The Trump Organization \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/realestate/article/trump-sell-s-f-tower-19363646.php\">reportedly holds a 30% ownership share\u003c/a> of the property.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Asked about former president Donald Trump’s stake in their future home, ICA founding director Ali Gass told KQED that “ICA San Francisco’s values are not at all aligned with Trump’s values.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gass added that fact would be made clear through the artists and programming the ICA supports in the new location, and stressed that the nonprofit has dealt exclusively with Vornado. “They have been extraordinarily generous and clearly believe deeply in the impact of a nonprofit arts organization,” she said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The ICA’s future home, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.cbre.com/properties/properties-for-lease/office/details/US-SMPL-54744/the-cube-345-montgomery-street-san-francisco-ca-94104\">The Cube\u003c/a>,” was once a banking hall; the dramatic stone, glass and metal building was designed in 1971 by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The non-collecting institution will \u003ca href=\"https://sfstandard.com/2024/08/30/institute-of-contemporary-art-san-francisco-relocates-downtown/\">reopen on two floors of the five-story, 73,000-square-foot building\u003c/a> on Oct. 25, more than doubling its current gallery space. And, through a deal with Vornado, it will do so at virtually no cost to itself: The ICA will enjoy free rent and utilities for two years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gass emphasized the benefits the ICA will bring to the immediate neighborhood, and to downtown San Francisco at large. “What we’ve seen contemporary art be able to do in so many cities and neighborhoods [is] drive traffic and have economic impact,” she said, “because people come to an arts organization and they go get a meal, and they go get a drink.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While the Trump Organization does not have decision-making power related to property, it has profited greatly from its partnership with Vornado, which includes \u003ca href=\"https://www.vno.com/office/property/1290-avenue-of-the-americas/3311697/landing\">another co-owned building\u003c/a> in Manhattan. In 2021, \u003ca href=\"https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-04-30/trump-scores-617-million-of-cash-with-vornado-from-tower-bonds\">Bloomberg reported\u003c/a> that the former president was positioned to share a windfall of around $617 million after a bond sale to refinance 555 California St.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Largely funded by \u003ca href=\"https://www.economist.com/culture/2022/10/19/silicon-valleys-plutocrats-are-shaking-up-culture-in-the-region\">Silicon Valley tech money\u003c/a>, ICA San Francisco set forth a bold mission to promote “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13918463/fall-2022-bay-area-visual-art-gallery-museum-guide\">constant reinvention in the realm of contemporary art\u003c/a>” — and, just as importantly, to make that experimental work accessible to all. In the two years since its launch, the museum has largely made good on those promises, hosting eight high-profile exhibitions, all with free admission, plus dozens of additional \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937851/ofrendas-mexican-immigration-dinner-bolita-masa-sf-ica\">pop-ups\u003c/a> and educational programs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During its time in the Dogpatch, the ICA hosted exhibitions spotlighting both prominent international artists and up-and-coming locals. One \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13918463/fall-2022-bay-area-visual-art-gallery-museum-guide\">installation featured hand-sewn banners\u003c/a> inspired by traditional tattoo designs; another asserted \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925416/resting-our-eyes-ica-sf-review-black-women-leisure\">Black women’s right to rest and leisure\u003c/a>. The museum also contributed to the once mostly industrial area’s burgeoning identity as the city’s “\u003ca href=\"https://nymag.com/urbanist/inside-the-dogpatch-san-franciscos-artsiest-neighborhood.html\">artsiest neighborhood\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The ICA will launch its new Financial District space with three openings: \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/exhibitions/16-the-poetics-of-dimensions\">The Poetics of Dimensions\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, curated by Larry Ossei-Mensah; \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/exhibitions/15-riverbend\">Maryam Yousif: Riverbend\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, a ceramics exhibition that references \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13963016/visual-art-fall-guide-2024-bay-area\">Mesopotamian and Assyrian mythology and Iraqi pop culture\u003c/a>; and a solo presentation by New York artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.kathleen-ryan.com/\">Kathleen Ryan\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"The ICA San Francisco will move into a new, rent-free space at 345 Montgomery St. in the Financial District.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725381399,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":13,"wordCount":586},"headData":{"title":"San Francisco Art Museum to Move Into Building Co-Owned by Trump | KQED","description":"The ICA San Francisco will move into a new, rent-free space at 345 Montgomery St. in the Financial District.","ogTitle":"","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"San Francisco Art Museum to Move Into Building Co-Owned by Trump","datePublished":"2024-08-30T16:46:19-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-03T09:36:39-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963491","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963491/ica-san-francisco-contemporary-art-museum-trump-financial-district","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>The \u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/\">Institute of Contemporary Art San Francisco\u003c/a> announced today that it will soon move from its current location in the Dogpatch neighborhood to 345 Montgomery St. in the Financial District, a building co-owned by Vornado Realty Trust and the Trump Organization.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The property is anchored by a 52-story tower at 555 California St., the former flagship building for Bank of America, which the Trump Organization \u003ca href=\"https://www.trump.com/commercial-real-estate-portfolio/555-california-street\">describes in its list of holdings\u003c/a> as an “iconic business address towering over San Francisco.” The Trump Organization \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/realestate/article/trump-sell-s-f-tower-19363646.php\">reportedly holds a 30% ownership share\u003c/a> of the property.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Asked about former president Donald Trump’s stake in their future home, ICA founding director Ali Gass told KQED that “ICA San Francisco’s values are not at all aligned with Trump’s values.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gass added that fact would be made clear through the artists and programming the ICA supports in the new location, and stressed that the nonprofit has dealt exclusively with Vornado. “They have been extraordinarily generous and clearly believe deeply in the impact of a nonprofit arts organization,” she said.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The ICA’s future home, “\u003ca href=\"https://www.cbre.com/properties/properties-for-lease/office/details/US-SMPL-54744/the-cube-345-montgomery-street-san-francisco-ca-94104\">The Cube\u003c/a>,” was once a banking hall; the dramatic stone, glass and metal building was designed in 1971 by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The non-collecting institution will \u003ca href=\"https://sfstandard.com/2024/08/30/institute-of-contemporary-art-san-francisco-relocates-downtown/\">reopen on two floors of the five-story, 73,000-square-foot building\u003c/a> on Oct. 25, more than doubling its current gallery space. And, through a deal with Vornado, it will do so at virtually no cost to itself: The ICA will enjoy free rent and utilities for two years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gass emphasized the benefits the ICA will bring to the immediate neighborhood, and to downtown San Francisco at large. “What we’ve seen contemporary art be able to do in so many cities and neighborhoods [is] drive traffic and have economic impact,” she said, “because people come to an arts organization and they go get a meal, and they go get a drink.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While the Trump Organization does not have decision-making power related to property, it has profited greatly from its partnership with Vornado, which includes \u003ca href=\"https://www.vno.com/office/property/1290-avenue-of-the-americas/3311697/landing\">another co-owned building\u003c/a> in Manhattan. In 2021, \u003ca href=\"https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-04-30/trump-scores-617-million-of-cash-with-vornado-from-tower-bonds\">Bloomberg reported\u003c/a> that the former president was positioned to share a windfall of around $617 million after a bond sale to refinance 555 California St.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Largely funded by \u003ca href=\"https://www.economist.com/culture/2022/10/19/silicon-valleys-plutocrats-are-shaking-up-culture-in-the-region\">Silicon Valley tech money\u003c/a>, ICA San Francisco set forth a bold mission to promote “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13918463/fall-2022-bay-area-visual-art-gallery-museum-guide\">constant reinvention in the realm of contemporary art\u003c/a>” — and, just as importantly, to make that experimental work accessible to all. In the two years since its launch, the museum has largely made good on those promises, hosting eight high-profile exhibitions, all with free admission, plus dozens of additional \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937851/ofrendas-mexican-immigration-dinner-bolita-masa-sf-ica\">pop-ups\u003c/a> and educational programs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During its time in the Dogpatch, the ICA hosted exhibitions spotlighting both prominent international artists and up-and-coming locals. One \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13918463/fall-2022-bay-area-visual-art-gallery-museum-guide\">installation featured hand-sewn banners\u003c/a> inspired by traditional tattoo designs; another asserted \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13925416/resting-our-eyes-ica-sf-review-black-women-leisure\">Black women’s right to rest and leisure\u003c/a>. The museum also contributed to the once mostly industrial area’s burgeoning identity as the city’s “\u003ca href=\"https://nymag.com/urbanist/inside-the-dogpatch-san-franciscos-artsiest-neighborhood.html\">artsiest neighborhood\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The ICA will launch its new Financial District space with three openings: \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/exhibitions/16-the-poetics-of-dimensions\">The Poetics of Dimensions\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, curated by Larry Ossei-Mensah; \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.icasf.org/exhibitions/15-riverbend\">Maryam Yousif: Riverbend\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, a ceramics exhibition that references \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13963016/visual-art-fall-guide-2024-bay-area\">Mesopotamian and Assyrian mythology and Iraqi pop culture\u003c/a>; and a solo presentation by New York artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.kathleen-ryan.com/\">Kathleen Ryan\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963491/ica-san-francisco-contemporary-art-museum-trump-financial-district","authors":["61","11743"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_235","arts_70"],"tags":["arts_820","arts_22291","arts_1753","arts_10342","arts_10278","arts_3648","arts_1146","arts_901"],"featImg":"arts_13963513","label":"arts"},"arts_13963817":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963817","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963817","score":null,"sort":[1725645682000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"beetlejuice-2024-review-tim-burton-sequel-winona-ryder-jenna-ortega-keaton-ohara","title":"Bring Your Global Entry Card — ‘Beetlejuice’ Sequel’s a Soul Train Ride to Comedy Joy","publishDate":1725645682,"format":"standard","headTitle":"Bring Your Global Entry Card — ‘Beetlejuice’ Sequel’s a Soul Train Ride to Comedy Joy | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":140,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>“I have global entry!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, does that sound like a funny line? Of course it doesn’t. Whatever in the history of mankind and airport lines could be funny about global entry?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13958707']But put it in the mouth of comedy goddess Catherine O’Hara, and place it in the singularly inventive world of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/28185/theres_a_method_to_tim_burtons_madness\">Tim Burton\u003c/a> and that wacky afterlife waiting room from \u003cem>Beetlejuice\u003c/em>, and it may become the one blessed time in your life you’ll ever guffaw about global entry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It likely won’t be the only thing you’ll guffaw about. Burton is back — and, more significantly, he is BACK — with \u003cem>Beetlejuice Beetlejuice\u003c/em>, 36 years after the original. And for once, the question “Why a sequel?” is moot.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not because we know the answer. (Do we?) But, who cares? It’s funny. It may even make you feel better about, well, death, though not “death death.” And Michael Keaton somehow looks exactly the same as he did in 1988 (to be fair, it helps that his character was already dead.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=As-vKW4ZboU\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Returning to his tale of Keaton’s ghostly, fiendish “bio-exorcist,” director Burton brings back much of the team behind the original, including, alongside O’Hara and Keaton, the still-lovely Winona Ryder as Lydia the Goth Girl (also, Bob the shrunken-head guy).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And we’ve gained Justin Theroux, Monica Bellucci, Willem Dafoe, and for the younger generation, Jenna Ortega, who, as a relatively normal figure, serves as an appealing anchor, her story moving the plot along.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13963648']Speaking of plot: if you didn’t see the original, not to worry. It all gets explained (as much as it should be) in time. We begin in Winter River, Connecticut, still home to Lydia Deetz (Ryder), who came as a teenager with batty stepmom Delia and dad Charles, only to learn her new house was haunted by the recently deceased Adam and Barbara (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis, alas not back).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lydia looks much the same — dressed all in black, with spiky bangs and pale skin — but is now a widowed mother, a psychic mediator, and host of a cheesy reality show, \u003cem>Ghost House\u003c/em>, in which she sees ghosts and asks, “Can the living and the dead co-exist?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But one day she sees something in the audience that scares her: visions of Beetlejuice, who wrought havoc when she was a teen and who, when we last left him, was wasting away in the afterlife waiting room (apparently, HE did not have global entry.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Waiting just off set to comfort Lydia after this terrifying vision is her manager and boyfriend, Rory (Theroux), who has a little ponytail almost as smarmy as himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lydia then gets a concerning message from Delia (O’Hara), an artist of questionable talent and unquestionable ego, who’s mounting a gallery show in which she herself is the canvas. There, Delia tells Lydia that she’s lost Charles. “Is he divorcing you?” gasps Lydia. “What a horrible thought!” replies Delia. “No, he’s dead.” (Such lines are catnip for O’Hara, a genius of comic timing).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13963688']Lydia calls her daughter, Astrid (Ortega), at boarding school. Astrid lists Lydia in her contacts as “Alleged Mom,” which tells you much of what you need to know about their fraught relationship\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But let’s pause this account of the living, because we also have to catch you up on the dead. Down where Beetlejuice is stuck, where the dead live — but not the “dead dead” — Delores, Beetlejuice’s ex-wife, has escaped from the crates (emphasis on plural) in which her body has resided. Watching the glamorous Bellucci literally staple herself together is just one of the glorious creative moments Burton and crew give us here. Alas, Delores doesn’t have much else to do, but this is rather spectacular.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’re approaching spoiler territory, so let’s just say that things really get complicated when Astrid goes home to Winter River for her father’s funeral. There, she watches as Mom accepts a marriage proposal from smarmy Rory. Racing off to escape, Astrid runs into a cute young guy reading Dostoyevsky.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A relationship begins, one that will lead to unexpected mayhem. Let’s just say Lydia will need to call upon — gasp! — Beetlejuice, who will exact a fearsome price for his services, as he is wont to do.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And he appears none too soon. Keaton, in his white caked makeup and blackened eyes and hair that looks like he is perpetually sticking his hand into a plug in the wall, slips remarkably smoothly into his old role. “The juice is loose,” as he likes to say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But you know who’s also got the juice flowing? Burton. It’s his inimitable energy that infuses this movie — a joyously rendered sequel that sometimes makes sense, and sometimes doesn’t, but just keeps rollicking. Among the ridiculous delights along the way: A “soul train” in the afterlife, which is not only literally a train of souls, but a replica of the variety show \u003cem>Soul Train\u003c/em>, with people in Afros dancing their way to wherever they are going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13963123']And if we don’t have the lip-synced “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” from the original, we do have a lip-synced “MacArthur Park,” the Donna Summer version. “Someone left the cake out in the rain,” go the ridiculous words of the disco classic. “I don’t think that I can take it, ’cause it took so long to bake it, and I’ll never have that recipe again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the Burtonian spirit, let’s just say it took a long time to bake it, yes, but the director has recovered the recipe — at least enough to make us smile, chortle, even guffaw, for 104 minutes. And we can be happy with that.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ is released nationwide on Sept. 6, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Tim Burton is back with ‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ 36 years after the original. For once, the question ‘Why a sequel?’ is moot.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725645682,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":true,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":23,"wordCount":1068},"headData":{"title":"‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’ Review: Burton’s Joyous Sequel | KQED","description":"Tim Burton is back with ‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ 36 years after the original. For once, the question ‘Why a sequel?’ is moot.","ogTitle":"Bring Your Global Entry Card — ‘Beetlejuice’ Sequel’s a Soul Train Ride to Comedy Joy","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Bring Your Global Entry Card — ‘Beetlejuice’ Sequel’s a Soul Train Ride to Comedy Joy","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’ Review: Burton’s Joyous Sequel %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Bring Your Global Entry Card — ‘Beetlejuice’ Sequel’s a Soul Train Ride to Comedy Joy","datePublished":"2024-09-06T11:01:22-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-06T11:01:22-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprByline":"Jocelyn Noveck, Associated Press","nprStoryId":"kqed-13963817","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","showOnAuthorArchivePages":"No","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963817/beetlejuice-2024-review-tim-burton-sequel-winona-ryder-jenna-ortega-keaton-ohara","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>“I have global entry!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now, does that sound like a funny line? Of course it doesn’t. Whatever in the history of mankind and airport lines could be funny about global entry?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13958707","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>But put it in the mouth of comedy goddess Catherine O’Hara, and place it in the singularly inventive world of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/28185/theres_a_method_to_tim_burtons_madness\">Tim Burton\u003c/a> and that wacky afterlife waiting room from \u003cem>Beetlejuice\u003c/em>, and it may become the one blessed time in your life you’ll ever guffaw about global entry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It likely won’t be the only thing you’ll guffaw about. Burton is back — and, more significantly, he is BACK — with \u003cem>Beetlejuice Beetlejuice\u003c/em>, 36 years after the original. And for once, the question “Why a sequel?” is moot.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not because we know the answer. (Do we?) But, who cares? It’s funny. It may even make you feel better about, well, death, though not “death death.” And Michael Keaton somehow looks exactly the same as he did in 1988 (to be fair, it helps that his character was already dead.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/As-vKW4ZboU'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/As-vKW4ZboU'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Returning to his tale of Keaton’s ghostly, fiendish “bio-exorcist,” director Burton brings back much of the team behind the original, including, alongside O’Hara and Keaton, the still-lovely Winona Ryder as Lydia the Goth Girl (also, Bob the shrunken-head guy).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And we’ve gained Justin Theroux, Monica Bellucci, Willem Dafoe, and for the younger generation, Jenna Ortega, who, as a relatively normal figure, serves as an appealing anchor, her story moving the plot along.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963648","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Speaking of plot: if you didn’t see the original, not to worry. It all gets explained (as much as it should be) in time. We begin in Winter River, Connecticut, still home to Lydia Deetz (Ryder), who came as a teenager with batty stepmom Delia and dad Charles, only to learn her new house was haunted by the recently deceased Adam and Barbara (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis, alas not back).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lydia looks much the same — dressed all in black, with spiky bangs and pale skin — but is now a widowed mother, a psychic mediator, and host of a cheesy reality show, \u003cem>Ghost House\u003c/em>, in which she sees ghosts and asks, “Can the living and the dead co-exist?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But one day she sees something in the audience that scares her: visions of Beetlejuice, who wrought havoc when she was a teen and who, when we last left him, was wasting away in the afterlife waiting room (apparently, HE did not have global entry.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Waiting just off set to comfort Lydia after this terrifying vision is her manager and boyfriend, Rory (Theroux), who has a little ponytail almost as smarmy as himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lydia then gets a concerning message from Delia (O’Hara), an artist of questionable talent and unquestionable ego, who’s mounting a gallery show in which she herself is the canvas. There, Delia tells Lydia that she’s lost Charles. “Is he divorcing you?” gasps Lydia. “What a horrible thought!” replies Delia. “No, he’s dead.” (Such lines are catnip for O’Hara, a genius of comic timing).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963688","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Lydia calls her daughter, Astrid (Ortega), at boarding school. Astrid lists Lydia in her contacts as “Alleged Mom,” which tells you much of what you need to know about their fraught relationship\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But let’s pause this account of the living, because we also have to catch you up on the dead. Down where Beetlejuice is stuck, where the dead live — but not the “dead dead” — Delores, Beetlejuice’s ex-wife, has escaped from the crates (emphasis on plural) in which her body has resided. Watching the glamorous Bellucci literally staple herself together is just one of the glorious creative moments Burton and crew give us here. Alas, Delores doesn’t have much else to do, but this is rather spectacular.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’re approaching spoiler territory, so let’s just say that things really get complicated when Astrid goes home to Winter River for her father’s funeral. There, she watches as Mom accepts a marriage proposal from smarmy Rory. Racing off to escape, Astrid runs into a cute young guy reading Dostoyevsky.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A relationship begins, one that will lead to unexpected mayhem. Let’s just say Lydia will need to call upon — gasp! — Beetlejuice, who will exact a fearsome price for his services, as he is wont to do.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And he appears none too soon. Keaton, in his white caked makeup and blackened eyes and hair that looks like he is perpetually sticking his hand into a plug in the wall, slips remarkably smoothly into his old role. “The juice is loose,” as he likes to say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But you know who’s also got the juice flowing? Burton. It’s his inimitable energy that infuses this movie — a joyously rendered sequel that sometimes makes sense, and sometimes doesn’t, but just keeps rollicking. Among the ridiculous delights along the way: A “soul train” in the afterlife, which is not only literally a train of souls, but a replica of the variety show \u003cem>Soul Train\u003c/em>, with people in Afros dancing their way to wherever they are going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963123","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>And if we don’t have the lip-synced “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)” from the original, we do have a lip-synced “MacArthur Park,” the Donna Summer version. “Someone left the cake out in the rain,” go the ridiculous words of the disco classic. “I don’t think that I can take it, ’cause it took so long to bake it, and I’ll never have that recipe again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the Burtonian spirit, let’s just say it took a long time to bake it, yes, but the director has recovered the recipe — at least enough to make us smile, chortle, even guffaw, for 104 minutes. And we can be happy with that.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’ is released nationwide on Sept. 6, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963817/beetlejuice-2024-review-tim-burton-sequel-winona-ryder-jenna-ortega-keaton-ohara","authors":["byline_arts_13963817"],"programs":["arts_140"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_968","arts_74","arts_75"],"tags":["arts_769","arts_585"],"featImg":"arts_13963825","label":"arts_140"},"arts_13963832":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13963832","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13963832","score":null,"sort":[1725648022000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"tacos-el-rulas-richmond-late-night-taqueria-midnight-diners","title":"Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big","publishDate":1725648022,"format":"aside","headTitle":"Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963836\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963836\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Two men eating tacos and tortas inside a dimly lit restaurant.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">At Tacos El Rulas’ new brick-and-mortar taqueria, everything — from the tortas to the dining room — is uncommonly big. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners\">\u003ci>The Midnight Diners\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is a regular collaboration between KQED food editor Luke Tsai and graphic novelist \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thiendog/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Thien Pham\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>. Follow them each week as they explore the hot pot restaurants, taco carts and 24-hour casino buffets that make up the Bay Area’s after-hours dining scene.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The thing to know about Richmond’s newest late-night taqueria, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/tacoselrulas/?hl=en\">Tacos El Rulas\u003c/a>, is that everything about it is big.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Start with the space itself, which is, in a word, cavernous. Located on the southern edge of Richmond’s \u003ca href=\"https://eastbayexpress.com/a-richmond-taco-crawl-2-1/\">23rd Street taco corridor\u003c/a>, it’s a high-ceilinged barn of a building that used to house a Mexican grocery store. Every square inch of wall space is covered with colorful blinking lights, neon signs (“Save Water, Drink Micheladas”), Mexican flags and larger-than-life murals depicting Selena, Jenni Rivera and other Mexican American musical icons. At around 9:30 on a Wednesday night, Colombian salsa music was blasting over the speakers while a group of coworkers threw back a $100 round of tequila shots served atop a \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C_bc6q4yf6D/?hl=en\">miniature combi bus lit up with sparklers\u003c/a>. The overall vibe was somewhere between rowdy cafeteria and cool, dimly neon-lit nightclub.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In short, it might not be the best place to visit if you’re trying to avoid overstimulation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Veteran East Bay taco eaters may recall that El Rulas \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13931115/tacos-el-rulas-richmond-taco-truck-alambre-papa-loca-instagram-food-influencer\">started out as a taco truck\u003c/a> — which currently sits idle in its old spot in the restaurant’s parking lot. The truck was popular in part because of its block-party-meets-backyard-barbecue atmosphere, perfuming the neighborhood with the smell of charred meat late into the night. Its success was also largely a product of social media: Every item on the menu seemed specifically engineered to go viral on Instagram, from the red-tinged, dripping-wet quesabirria tacos to the monstrous (and since discontinued) three-foot-long burritos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the new brick-and-mortar Tacos El Rulas, too, much of the food is comically oversized — and all of it is available until midnight every night. We started with one of the restaurant’s Instagram hits, the papas locas, a.k.a. the Mexican American answer to a loaded baked potato, except that El Rulas’ version comes pre-smashed, sans skin, in an aluminum tray. It comes topped with your choice of protein (I recommend the supremely well-seasoned al pastor), butter, bacon, more butter, two big dollops of guacamole and a metric ton of stretchy melted cheese. Order this with a side of handmade tortillas to scoop it all up, and the dish is hearty enough to feed two or three hungry diners all by itself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963838\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963838\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2.jpg\" alt='Exterior of a restaurant bathed in neon light at nighttime. The sign above reads, \"Tacos El Rulas.\"' width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The longtime taco truck has taken over a cavernous space on the southern edge of Richmond’s 23rd Street taco corridor. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The El Rulas taco truck’s \u003ca href=\"https://sf.eater.com/2021/2/11/22275500/tacos-el-rulas-truck-berkeley-quesabirria-torta-cubana-handmade-tortillas\">first claim to fame\u003c/a>, long before it became a darling of Bay Area food influencers, was that it sold some of the biggest and tastiest tortas in our region. The restaurant makes a whopping 18 different varieties. And to this day, one of the most delicious things on the menu, pound for pound, is the torta Cubana. This is a sandwich the literal size of a football, layered so thick with meat that we practically had to unhinge our jaws in order to take a bite. The funny thing about El Rulas’ Cubana is that they seem to make it a little bit differently every time I order it, depending on what they have available in the kitchen. The most recent edition was crammed to overflowing with ham, four or five fried beef cutlets, a fried egg and stretchy mozzarella cheese — and no detectable vegetable matter whatsoever. (Other times, the sandwich has included some combination of lettuce, ham, chorizo and queso fresco.) Regardless: It’s a spectacular sandwich, especially after we doused it with some red salsa from the self-serve salsa station. And we still couldn’t finish even half.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13963437,arts_13958926,arts_13958466']\u003c/span>\u003c/span>The closest thing to a normally-portioned dish that we ordered was the ribeye tacos. Reasonable people might quibble over whether they’re worth the $6-a-taco price tag, but the thick cubes of steak were as buttery and tender as we could have hoped.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If there’s a downside to Tacos El Rulas, it’s that the place has been so infected by the social media brain worm that some of the offerings veer a little bit too close to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13936325/social-media-biggest-pupusas-burritos-instagram-tiktok-latinextravagant-bay-area\">stunt food territory\u003c/a>. The menu is loaded with luxe upgrades that aren’t really necessary for you to have a good experience — though I’ll admit that ribeye papas locas \u003ci>do \u003c/i>sound pretty great.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My advice? Come with a group that likes to share, because you’re going to want to sample a few items. A solo diner can really only handle one of El Rulas’ special, over-the-top creations — and then you’re going to be eating one dish for a solid 40 minutes, and you still probably won’t finish.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On weekend nights, the restaurant tends to fill up with the party crowd. The lines get long, and things can get a little bit chaotic. Late on a random weeknight, though? It’s a lot of families with kids, and coworkers stopping by for a drink and a meal at the end of their shift. Neon lights, gargantuan sandwiches and sensory overload notwithstanding, it’s actually a pretty chill place to grab a bite.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/tacoselrulas/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Tacos El Rulas\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is open 11 a.m.–midnight daily at 232 23rd St. in Richmond. \u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Tacos El Rulas serves the East Bay’s largest tortas and most decadent loaded baked potatoes. ","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725648022,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":14,"wordCount":990},"headData":{"title":"Tacos El Rulas Is Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria | KQED","description":"Tacos El Rulas serves the East Bay’s largest tortas and most decadent loaded baked potatoes. ","ogTitle":"Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Tacos El Rulas Is Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Richmond’s New Late-Night Taqueria Goes Big","datePublished":"2024-09-06T11:40:22-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-06T11:40:22-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"The Midnight Diners","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners","sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13963832","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13963832/tacos-el-rulas-richmond-late-night-taqueria-midnight-diners","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963836\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963836\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration: Two men eating tacos and tortas inside a dimly lit restaurant.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">At Tacos El Rulas’ new brick-and-mortar taqueria, everything — from the tortas to the dining room — is uncommonly big. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/the-midnight-diners\">\u003ci>The Midnight Diners\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is a regular collaboration between KQED food editor Luke Tsai and graphic novelist \u003c/i>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thiendog/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Thien Pham\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci>. Follow them each week as they explore the hot pot restaurants, taco carts and 24-hour casino buffets that make up the Bay Area’s after-hours dining scene.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The thing to know about Richmond’s newest late-night taqueria, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/tacoselrulas/?hl=en\">Tacos El Rulas\u003c/a>, is that everything about it is big.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Start with the space itself, which is, in a word, cavernous. Located on the southern edge of Richmond’s \u003ca href=\"https://eastbayexpress.com/a-richmond-taco-crawl-2-1/\">23rd Street taco corridor\u003c/a>, it’s a high-ceilinged barn of a building that used to house a Mexican grocery store. Every square inch of wall space is covered with colorful blinking lights, neon signs (“Save Water, Drink Micheladas”), Mexican flags and larger-than-life murals depicting Selena, Jenni Rivera and other Mexican American musical icons. At around 9:30 on a Wednesday night, Colombian salsa music was blasting over the speakers while a group of coworkers threw back a $100 round of tequila shots served atop a \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/p/C_bc6q4yf6D/?hl=en\">miniature combi bus lit up with sparklers\u003c/a>. The overall vibe was somewhere between rowdy cafeteria and cool, dimly neon-lit nightclub.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In short, it might not be the best place to visit if you’re trying to avoid overstimulation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Veteran East Bay taco eaters may recall that El Rulas \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13931115/tacos-el-rulas-richmond-taco-truck-alambre-papa-loca-instagram-food-influencer\">started out as a taco truck\u003c/a> — which currently sits idle in its old spot in the restaurant’s parking lot. The truck was popular in part because of its block-party-meets-backyard-barbecue atmosphere, perfuming the neighborhood with the smell of charred meat late into the night. Its success was also largely a product of social media: Every item on the menu seemed specifically engineered to go viral on Instagram, from the red-tinged, dripping-wet quesabirria tacos to the monstrous (and since discontinued) three-foot-long burritos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At the new brick-and-mortar Tacos El Rulas, too, much of the food is comically oversized — and all of it is available until midnight every night. We started with one of the restaurant’s Instagram hits, the papas locas, a.k.a. the Mexican American answer to a loaded baked potato, except that El Rulas’ version comes pre-smashed, sans skin, in an aluminum tray. It comes topped with your choice of protein (I recommend the supremely well-seasoned al pastor), butter, bacon, more butter, two big dollops of guacamole and a metric ton of stretchy melted cheese. Order this with a side of handmade tortillas to scoop it all up, and the dish is hearty enough to feed two or three hungry diners all by itself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13963838\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13963838\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2.jpg\" alt='Exterior of a restaurant bathed in neon light at nighttime. The sign above reads, \"Tacos El Rulas.\"' width=\"1920\" height=\"1920\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/09/El-Rulas2-1536x1536.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The longtime taco truck has taken over a cavernous space on the southern edge of Richmond’s 23rd Street taco corridor. \u003ccite>(Thien Pham)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The El Rulas taco truck’s \u003ca href=\"https://sf.eater.com/2021/2/11/22275500/tacos-el-rulas-truck-berkeley-quesabirria-torta-cubana-handmade-tortillas\">first claim to fame\u003c/a>, long before it became a darling of Bay Area food influencers, was that it sold some of the biggest and tastiest tortas in our region. The restaurant makes a whopping 18 different varieties. And to this day, one of the most delicious things on the menu, pound for pound, is the torta Cubana. This is a sandwich the literal size of a football, layered so thick with meat that we practically had to unhinge our jaws in order to take a bite. The funny thing about El Rulas’ Cubana is that they seem to make it a little bit differently every time I order it, depending on what they have available in the kitchen. The most recent edition was crammed to overflowing with ham, four or five fried beef cutlets, a fried egg and stretchy mozzarella cheese — and no detectable vegetable matter whatsoever. (Other times, the sandwich has included some combination of lettuce, ham, chorizo and queso fresco.) Regardless: It’s a spectacular sandwich, especially after we doused it with some red salsa from the self-serve salsa station. And we still couldn’t finish even half.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003cspan style=\"color: #2b2b2b;font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13963437,arts_13958926,arts_13958466","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>\u003c/span>The closest thing to a normally-portioned dish that we ordered was the ribeye tacos. Reasonable people might quibble over whether they’re worth the $6-a-taco price tag, but the thick cubes of steak were as buttery and tender as we could have hoped.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If there’s a downside to Tacos El Rulas, it’s that the place has been so infected by the social media brain worm that some of the offerings veer a little bit too close to \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13936325/social-media-biggest-pupusas-burritos-instagram-tiktok-latinextravagant-bay-area\">stunt food territory\u003c/a>. The menu is loaded with luxe upgrades that aren’t really necessary for you to have a good experience — though I’ll admit that ribeye papas locas \u003ci>do \u003c/i>sound pretty great.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My advice? Come with a group that likes to share, because you’re going to want to sample a few items. A solo diner can really only handle one of El Rulas’ special, over-the-top creations — and then you’re going to be eating one dish for a solid 40 minutes, and you still probably won’t finish.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On weekend nights, the restaurant tends to fill up with the party crowd. The lines get long, and things can get a little bit chaotic. Late on a random weeknight, though? It’s a lot of families with kids, and coworkers stopping by for a drink and a meal at the end of their shift. Neon lights, gargantuan sandwiches and sensory overload notwithstanding, it’s actually a pretty chill place to grab a bite.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/tacoselrulas/?hl=en\">\u003ci>Tacos El Rulas\u003c/i>\u003c/a>\u003ci> is open 11 a.m.–midnight daily at 232 23rd St. in Richmond. \u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13963832/tacos-el-rulas-richmond-late-night-taqueria-midnight-diners","authors":["11743","11753"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_12276"],"tags":["arts_10278","arts_1297","arts_8805","arts_14985","arts_2479","arts_2137","arts_14984","arts_21928"],"featImg":"arts_13963835","label":"source_arts_13963832"},"arts_13955802":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13955802","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13955802","score":null,"sort":[1713390752000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","title":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","publishDate":1713390752,"format":"standard","headTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics) | KQED","labelTerm":{},"content":"\u003cp>[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hen conveying what it means to really be from the Bay Area, I often return to this simple yet revelatory \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/mac-dre\">Mac Dre\u003c/a> lyric: “In the Bay Area, we dance a little different.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether it’s in our music, political activism or technological contributions, there’s a certain out-of-box forwardness that tends to manifest from Bay Area minds — a distinguishable pride in how we approach everything with a savvy sprinkling of game, hustlership and top-tier ideation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The same can be said for the Bay Area’s food scene, which ranks among the nation’s best and most imaginative. From sourdough bread to the eternal Mission-style burrito, the Bay’s foodmakers have often been ahead of the curve, helping to revolutionize menus nationwide with their fresh farm-to-table approach. To borrow from the great Mac, one could say that in the Bay Area, we \u003ci>eat\u003c/i> a little different.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13907726,arts_13934248']\u003c/span>It’s no surprise, then, that in the history of local rap, food has always been a strong reference point — a metaphorical kitchen for creative exchange. An endless platter of well-seasoned slang. For decades, our rappers have delivered punchlines involving sauce, lasagna and \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMah0rX6pGU\">lumpia\u003c/a>; dropped verses that generously reference \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkBJR5L2nas\">desserts and bakeries\u003c/a>; and supplied entire songs about stacking bread, cheese and lettuce as lucrative sandwiches.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/food/restaurants/article/bay-area-rap-shrimp-crab-17915372.php\">Food-loving Bay Area rappers\u003c/a> have always been bold when it comes to transmorphing culinary items and kitchen utensils into slang that others then appropriate and even misuse (see: “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908052/food-doesnt-slap\">food doesn’t slap\u003c/a>”). Shock G once talked about getting busy in a Burger King bathroom and declared, “I like my oatmeal lumpy.” On “Dreganomics,” Mac Dre himself asked, “What’s spaghetti without the sauce?” We’ve got Suga T (sweet) and Spice 1 (hot). Berner founded \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/cookiessf/?hl=en\">Cookies\u003c/a>. And just a few weeks ago, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13900085/stunnaman02-and-the-big-steppin-energy-in-the-room\">Stunnaman02\u003c/a> dropped a whole series of viral videos centered on his latest single. His focus? \u003ca href=\"https://www.tiktok.com/@jayworrld/video/7340701934355254574\">Eating a salad\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a unifying ethos in Bay Area food and rap: \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6GU3PmttyI\">Everybody eats\u003c/a>. So here’s a brief ode to some of our region’s most skilled vocabulary chefs and the tasteful ways they’ve reimagined the ingredients of language that are possible in a kitchen — and the recording studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956090\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956090\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper E-40 in sunglasses and a beige apron, holding a glass of red wine. In front of him are a burrito and a grilled cheese sandwich.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 might be the most prolific inventor of food-related slang words in the English language. He’s a head chef in the Bay Area’s rap kingdom. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>E-40: Green eggs, hams, candy yams, Spam, cheese, peanut butter and jam on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etIBcRriUJY\">The Slap\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Digital scale, green eggs and hams / Yams, candy yams, Spam, damn! / Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter and jam / Sammich, mannish, me and my Hispanics / Vanish, talkin’ in codes like we from different planets.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though it may sound like gibberish to the uninitiated, rest assured that \u003ca href=\"https://firstwefeast.com/eat/2013/12/food-rap-decoded-with-e-40-video\">99.99% of anything 40 Water vocalizes has a cleverly associative meaning\u003c/a>. For anyone who has listened to one of the more than 25 studio albums from Vallejo’s kingpin, you’ve surely heard him mention food — perhaps in a variety of languages (some real, some ingeniously invented). In addition to the smorgasbord he notes above in “The Slap,” he has pioneered rhymes across generations that give new meanings to Gouda, feta, mozzarella, lettuce, bread, sausage, salami, paninis, spaghetti, tacos and enchiladas — ad infinitum. Unsurprisingly, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907726/e-40-goon-with-the-spoon-bay-area-rappers-food-entrepreneurs-hustle\">Mr. Fonzarelli is an actual purveyor of foods and beverages\u003c/a>, with a line of products that includes malt liquor, ice cream and burritos; he even co-owns \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thelumpiacompany/\">The Lumpia Company\u003c/a>. There’s no one with a bigger million-dollar mouthpiece who can distribute as much word candy (“S-L-A-N-G”) quite as flavorfully as the Goon With The Spoon himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Andre Nickatina: TOGO’s #41 sandwich with the hot peppers on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FU1XdPE6lM\">Fa Show\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Baby don’t act dumb, I’m number 41, high stepper / TOGO’s sandwich with the hot peppers / At 90 degrees I might freeze, so when it’s hot I sport leather.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fillmore’s finest, and among \u003ca href=\"https://www.passionweiss.com/2016/11/17/andre-nickatina/\">the most criminally underrated San Francisco rappers in history\u003c/a>, Andre Nickatina has always had a penchant for the spicy, the flavorful, the extemporaneously saucy. From rapping about eating Cap’n Crunch around drug dealers to sarcastically handing out Baskin Robbins dollars to his enemies, Nicky Nicotine (formerly known as Dre Dog) raps about food as casually as any rapper would ever dare. Unlike many of today’s international rap personalities, who seem to only eat at \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/OutOfTheLoop/comments/6frbt9/why_are_rappers_obsessed_with_nobu_sushi/\">high-priced sushi conglomerates\u003c/a>, Nickatina is a Bay Area real one, electing to stay fed at a regional sandwich chain from San Jose. The enigmatic “number 41” on the \u003ca href=\"https://www.togos.com/menu/?gad_source=1&gclid=CjwKCAjwoPOwBhAeEiwAJuXRh69gJ2fS8J9qmnAKJEnCmI5720psTxEmhEmkgFAemWoe3auyNuuxExoCTm0QAvD_BwE\">Togo’s menu\u003c/a> has since been discontinued, but a spokesperson for the restaurant IDed it as a sirloin steak and mushroom sandwich that was introduced as a seasonal special back in 2002 — the same year “Fa Show” was released. There is no doubt it must’ve been fire, given its endorsement by a legend who knows how to professionally “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8TXpoi-goE\">Break Bread\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956088\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956088\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Kamaiyah eating from a plate of chicken alfredo tucked under her arm. Next to her is a bottle of champagne.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kamaiyah’s album covers often feature food, Hennessey and champagne — a reflection of the rapper’s saucy, bossy lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Kamaiyah: Champagne and chicken on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yls2dMJ63tM\">Whatever Whenever\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Just drink champagne with all my chicken meals.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s fitting that East Oakland’s Kamaiyah — who cooked up the searingly hot single “How Does It Feel” on her transcendent debut, \u003ci>A Good Night in the Ghetto\u003c/i> — continued to double down on aspirational living and good eating with her sophomore release, \u003ci>Got It Made\u003c/i>. As always, the bodacious trapper rhymes over a synth-laced, floaty-spaceship soundscape while bragging about her California riches — and cuisine. The music video for “Whatever Whenever” features Kamaiyah roaming the untainted grounds of a Napa Valley-esque chateau. Her album covers over the years have also featured bags of potato chips, Hennessy and double-fisted bottles of champagne. It’s always bottoms up when Kamaiyah is on the track.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too $hort: Macaroni, steak and collard greens on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru5B8cFskaw\">All My B*tches Are Gone\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Eat some shit up / macaroni, steak, collard greens, or whatever the fuck.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With over 35 years of classic albums like \u003ci>Cocktails\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Gettin’ It\u003c/i>, there’s no doubt that Short Dogg knows how to feed his multi-generational fanbase. He doesn’t shy away from straightforward lyrics — or having a large appetite for nefarious activities — and he has continued to make seasoned slaps for precisely 225,000 hours and counting (“get a calculator, do the math”). This OG’s plate of choice includes classic soul food staples served with a slab of steak. As the veteran unmistakably outlines on “This How We Eat”: “We make money, we eat, we feed.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956087\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956087\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Larry June in an SF Giants cap, holding a crab cracker in one hand and a fork in the other. In front of him is a whole lobster on a plate.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Besides establishing himself as the healthiest rapper in Bay Area lore, Larry June is also known for sporting vintage muscle cars and cracking lobsters in Sausalito as part of his luxurious lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Larry June: Crab legs on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luIhlZBrJos\">Lifetime Income\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“This not my girlfriend, we just eatin’ crab legs.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you know Larry June, then you know he’s all about smoothies, green teas, organic juices and oranges (yee hee!). But just as buttery are his numerously silky references to luxury meals and late-night outings with a seemingly endless rotation of women friends. Without question, the Hunters Point rapper has one of the healthiest appetites of anyone around a microphone, regularly dropping rhymes about his organic sustenance. Since Uncle Larry makes a living off his out-of-pocket food references, he merits an honorable mention for dropping other absolute bangers like “I might write a motherfuckin’ smoothie book or somethin’ … Sell this shit for thirty dollars” and “Watermelon juice riding bikes with my latest chick / I don’t do the clubs that often, I got a check to get.” It’s fitting that \u003ca href=\"https://uproxx.com/music/larry-june-interview-san-francisco/\">he also co-owns Honeybear Boba in the Dogpatch\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Iamsu!: Chicken strips and Moscato on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQcxMU3uvLg\">Don’t Stop\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Keep it real I don’t brag though… / Chicken strips, no escargot / [sippin’] on the Moscato.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To be fair, this lyric is from a young, mixtape-era Iamsu! and might not reflect the current palate of the multi-platinum rapper and producer from Richmond. (In fact, that’s probably true of every rapper on this list, so take these lyrics with a grain of salt.) But when I first heard this song in my 20s, it’s a line that did — and still does — resonate for its unglamorized celebration of living on a low-budget microwaveable diet while maintaining a glimmer of high-life ambition. Personally, I’d take chicken strips over escargot nine out of ten times. And, from the sound of it, so would Suzy 6 Speed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956086\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956086\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"The rapper P-Lo wiggles his fingers in delight over a plate of chicken wings sitting on a bed of dollar bills.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">P-Lo often raps about his love of chicken (chicken adobo, fried chicken, chicken wings), and his favorite food-related slang word is also “chicken” (as a stand in for “money”). \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>P-Lo: Chicken wings in the strip club on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-ajtPhAQ1U\">Going To Work\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“In the strip club eating chicken wings.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">[aside postID='arts_13938479']\u003c/span>There may not be another rapper on this list with as much love for chicken wings as Pinole’s P-Lo. For starters, the lyricist and producer launched a transnational food tour, teaming up with Filipino restaurants around the U.S. and Canada to deliver collaborative one-off dishes, including \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935891/p-lo-senor-sisig-filipino-food-tour-oakland\">his own spicy sinigang wings at Señor Sisig in Oakland\u003c/a>. If that’s not enough, he has popped up on popular social media channels like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/bayareafoodz/?hl=en\">Bay Area Foodz\u003c/a> as \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJYkVcpM6E0\">he searches for the best wings around the Yay\u003c/a>. His songs are even featured on \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwyzdhfrNCE/\">national commercials for Wingstop\u003c/a>. For P-Lo, it’s always time to bring back the bass — and taste.\u003cb>\u003ci>\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Guap (formerly Guapdad 4000): Chicken adobo on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DaovaJgytE\">Chicken Adobo\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“How I fell in love with you it was beautiful / Like chicken adobo how you fill me up.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the Black Filipino American rapper from West Oakland, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">food has always played a central role in his upbringing\u003c/a>. The anime-loving, Marvel comics fan grew up in a Filipino household eating champorado, and his songs have never shied away from references to his dual cultures. In what might be his most well-known song, Guap equates romantic satiation to filling up on a bowl of chicken adobo. His love of food goes beyond the booth — he recently spoke out on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13950363/keith-lee-tiktok-oakland-sf-bay-area-struggles\">the recent Keith Lee fiasco\u003c/a>, and he also put together\u003ca href=\"https://trippin.world/guide/oaklands-top-food-joints-with-rapper-guapdad-4000\"> a map of his favorite places to eat around The Town\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Cellski: Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar cheese on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6wFRZOd7n8\">Chedda\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Gotta get the cheddar, fuck the [federals].”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As most food mentions in Bay Area rap goes, Cellski’s mention of this quintessentially North American breakfast combo isn’t exactly a homage to the real ingredients, as much as it is a reference to his hustling. His 1998 \u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/841568-Cellski-Canadian-Bacon-Hash-Browns/image/SW1hZ2U6NDg3ODMxNzk=\">album cover\u003c/a> for \u003ci>Canadian Bacon & Hash Browns \u003c/i>features a cartoon depiction of the rapper getting pulled over and arrested by a Canadian mountie, with an open trunk revealing pounds of medicinal herbs. Nonetheless, there’s a good chance that the veteran San Francisco spitter actually does like to carry Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar around — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922141/cellskis-big-mafi-burgers-come-with-a-side-of-sf-rap-history\">he’s a part-time foodie who runs his own burger pop-up, after all\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956089\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956089\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Dru Down in gold sunglasses and a black trench coat, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and an ice cream sundae on the table in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a famous 1996 beef, Dru Down and the Luniz accused New Orleans rapper Master P (who started his musical career in the Bay Area) for stealing their concept of the “Ice Cream Man” — slang for a narcotics dealer. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Dru Down: Ice cream on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uNv2qAje-Q\">Ice Cream Man\u003c/a>” (with the Luniz)\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Get your ice cream, ice cream / Not Ice-T, not Ice Cube, ice cream.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not intended for children, the classic 1993 anthem off Dru Down’s \u003ci>Fools From The Street \u003c/i>paints a startling picture of addiction and illicit drug distribution around Oakland in the wake of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs. Despite its unapologetic content, “Ice Cream Man” went on to establish an indisputably popular food motif in national rap music: ice cream as a stand-in for drug dealing. Since the production includes an audio sampling of an ice cream truck’s inimitable tune, listening to it evokes a sense of nostalgia for the frozen treat — and for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">golden-era Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"A brief look at some of the Bay Area’s most notoriously hungry rappers — and the foods they’ve lyricized about.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725478027,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":28,"wordCount":2210},"headData":{"title":"Bay Area Rappers and Food Lyrics | KQED","description":"A brief look at some of the Bay Area’s most notoriously hungry rappers — and the foods they’ve lyricized about.","ogTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Bay Area Rappers and Food Lyrics %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Here’s What Bay Area Rappers Are Eating (According to Their Lyrics)","datePublished":"2024-04-17T14:52:32-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-04T12:27:07-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"source":"Food","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/food","sticky":false,"excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13955802/bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">W\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>hen conveying what it means to really be from the Bay Area, I often return to this simple yet revelatory \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/tag/mac-dre\">Mac Dre\u003c/a> lyric: “In the Bay Area, we dance a little different.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whether it’s in our music, political activism or technological contributions, there’s a certain out-of-box forwardness that tends to manifest from Bay Area minds — a distinguishable pride in how we approach everything with a savvy sprinkling of game, hustlership and top-tier ideation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The same can be said for the Bay Area’s food scene, which ranks among the nation’s best and most imaginative. From sourdough bread to the eternal Mission-style burrito, the Bay’s foodmakers have often been ahead of the curve, helping to revolutionize menus nationwide with their fresh farm-to-table approach. To borrow from the great Mac, one could say that in the Bay Area, we \u003ci>eat\u003c/i> a little different.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13907726,arts_13934248","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>It’s no surprise, then, that in the history of local rap, food has always been a strong reference point — a metaphorical kitchen for creative exchange. An endless platter of well-seasoned slang. For decades, our rappers have delivered punchlines involving sauce, lasagna and \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMah0rX6pGU\">lumpia\u003c/a>; dropped verses that generously reference \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkBJR5L2nas\">desserts and bakeries\u003c/a>; and supplied entire songs about stacking bread, cheese and lettuce as lucrative sandwiches.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.sfchronicle.com/food/restaurants/article/bay-area-rap-shrimp-crab-17915372.php\">Food-loving Bay Area rappers\u003c/a> have always been bold when it comes to transmorphing culinary items and kitchen utensils into slang that others then appropriate and even misuse (see: “\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13908052/food-doesnt-slap\">food doesn’t slap\u003c/a>”). Shock G once talked about getting busy in a Burger King bathroom and declared, “I like my oatmeal lumpy.” On “Dreganomics,” Mac Dre himself asked, “What’s spaghetti without the sauce?” We’ve got Suga T (sweet) and Spice 1 (hot). Berner founded \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/cookiessf/?hl=en\">Cookies\u003c/a>. And just a few weeks ago, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13900085/stunnaman02-and-the-big-steppin-energy-in-the-room\">Stunnaman02\u003c/a> dropped a whole series of viral videos centered on his latest single. His focus? \u003ca href=\"https://www.tiktok.com/@jayworrld/video/7340701934355254574\">Eating a salad\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a unifying ethos in Bay Area food and rap: \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6GU3PmttyI\">Everybody eats\u003c/a>. So here’s a brief ode to some of our region’s most skilled vocabulary chefs and the tasteful ways they’ve reimagined the ingredients of language that are possible in a kitchen — and the recording studio.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956090\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956090\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper E-40 in sunglasses and a beige apron, holding a glass of red wine. In front of him are a burrito and a grilled cheese sandwich.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/E40-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">E-40 might be the most prolific inventor of food-related slang words in the English language. He’s a head chef in the Bay Area’s rap kingdom. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>E-40: Green eggs, hams, candy yams, Spam, cheese, peanut butter and jam on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etIBcRriUJY\">The Slap\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Digital scale, green eggs and hams / Yams, candy yams, Spam, damn! / Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter and jam / Sammich, mannish, me and my Hispanics / Vanish, talkin’ in codes like we from different planets.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though it may sound like gibberish to the uninitiated, rest assured that \u003ca href=\"https://firstwefeast.com/eat/2013/12/food-rap-decoded-with-e-40-video\">99.99% of anything 40 Water vocalizes has a cleverly associative meaning\u003c/a>. For anyone who has listened to one of the more than 25 studio albums from Vallejo’s kingpin, you’ve surely heard him mention food — perhaps in a variety of languages (some real, some ingeniously invented). In addition to the smorgasbord he notes above in “The Slap,” he has pioneered rhymes across generations that give new meanings to Gouda, feta, mozzarella, lettuce, bread, sausage, salami, paninis, spaghetti, tacos and enchiladas — ad infinitum. Unsurprisingly, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13907726/e-40-goon-with-the-spoon-bay-area-rappers-food-entrepreneurs-hustle\">Mr. Fonzarelli is an actual purveyor of foods and beverages\u003c/a>, with a line of products that includes malt liquor, ice cream and burritos; he even co-owns \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/thelumpiacompany/\">The Lumpia Company\u003c/a>. There’s no one with a bigger million-dollar mouthpiece who can distribute as much word candy (“S-L-A-N-G”) quite as flavorfully as the Goon With The Spoon himself.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Andre Nickatina: TOGO’s #41 sandwich with the hot peppers on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FU1XdPE6lM\">Fa Show\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Baby don’t act dumb, I’m number 41, high stepper / TOGO’s sandwich with the hot peppers / At 90 degrees I might freeze, so when it’s hot I sport leather.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fillmore’s finest, and among \u003ca href=\"https://www.passionweiss.com/2016/11/17/andre-nickatina/\">the most criminally underrated San Francisco rappers in history\u003c/a>, Andre Nickatina has always had a penchant for the spicy, the flavorful, the extemporaneously saucy. From rapping about eating Cap’n Crunch around drug dealers to sarcastically handing out Baskin Robbins dollars to his enemies, Nicky Nicotine (formerly known as Dre Dog) raps about food as casually as any rapper would ever dare. Unlike many of today’s international rap personalities, who seem to only eat at \u003ca href=\"https://www.reddit.com/r/OutOfTheLoop/comments/6frbt9/why_are_rappers_obsessed_with_nobu_sushi/\">high-priced sushi conglomerates\u003c/a>, Nickatina is a Bay Area real one, electing to stay fed at a regional sandwich chain from San Jose. The enigmatic “number 41” on the \u003ca href=\"https://www.togos.com/menu/?gad_source=1&gclid=CjwKCAjwoPOwBhAeEiwAJuXRh69gJ2fS8J9qmnAKJEnCmI5720psTxEmhEmkgFAemWoe3auyNuuxExoCTm0QAvD_BwE\">Togo’s menu\u003c/a> has since been discontinued, but a spokesperson for the restaurant IDed it as a sirloin steak and mushroom sandwich that was introduced as a seasonal special back in 2002 — the same year “Fa Show” was released. There is no doubt it must’ve been fire, given its endorsement by a legend who knows how to professionally “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8TXpoi-goE\">Break Bread\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956088\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956088\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Kamaiyah eating from a plate of chicken alfredo tucked under her arm. Next to her is a bottle of champagne.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/KAMAIYAH-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kamaiyah’s album covers often feature food, Hennessey and champagne — a reflection of the rapper’s saucy, bossy lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Kamaiyah: Champagne and chicken on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yls2dMJ63tM\">Whatever Whenever\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Just drink champagne with all my chicken meals.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s fitting that East Oakland’s Kamaiyah — who cooked up the searingly hot single “How Does It Feel” on her transcendent debut, \u003ci>A Good Night in the Ghetto\u003c/i> — continued to double down on aspirational living and good eating with her sophomore release, \u003ci>Got It Made\u003c/i>. As always, the bodacious trapper rhymes over a synth-laced, floaty-spaceship soundscape while bragging about her California riches — and cuisine. The music video for “Whatever Whenever” features Kamaiyah roaming the untainted grounds of a Napa Valley-esque chateau. Her album covers over the years have also featured bags of potato chips, Hennessy and double-fisted bottles of champagne. It’s always bottoms up when Kamaiyah is on the track.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Too $hort: Macaroni, steak and collard greens on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru5B8cFskaw\">All My B*tches Are Gone\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Eat some shit up / macaroni, steak, collard greens, or whatever the fuck.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With over 35 years of classic albums like \u003ci>Cocktails\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Gettin’ It\u003c/i>, there’s no doubt that Short Dogg knows how to feed his multi-generational fanbase. He doesn’t shy away from straightforward lyrics — or having a large appetite for nefarious activities — and he has continued to make seasoned slaps for precisely 225,000 hours and counting (“get a calculator, do the math”). This OG’s plate of choice includes classic soul food staples served with a slab of steak. As the veteran unmistakably outlines on “This How We Eat”: “We make money, we eat, we feed.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956087\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956087\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Larry June in an SF Giants cap, holding a crab cracker in one hand and a fork in the other. In front of him is a whole lobster on a plate.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/LARRY-JUNE-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Besides establishing himself as the healthiest rapper in Bay Area lore, Larry June is also known for sporting vintage muscle cars and cracking lobsters in Sausalito as part of his luxurious lifestyle. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Larry June: Crab legs on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luIhlZBrJos\">Lifetime Income\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“This not my girlfriend, we just eatin’ crab legs.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you know Larry June, then you know he’s all about smoothies, green teas, organic juices and oranges (yee hee!). But just as buttery are his numerously silky references to luxury meals and late-night outings with a seemingly endless rotation of women friends. Without question, the Hunters Point rapper has one of the healthiest appetites of anyone around a microphone, regularly dropping rhymes about his organic sustenance. Since Uncle Larry makes a living off his out-of-pocket food references, he merits an honorable mention for dropping other absolute bangers like “I might write a motherfuckin’ smoothie book or somethin’ … Sell this shit for thirty dollars” and “Watermelon juice riding bikes with my latest chick / I don’t do the clubs that often, I got a check to get.” It’s fitting that \u003ca href=\"https://uproxx.com/music/larry-june-interview-san-francisco/\">he also co-owns Honeybear Boba in the Dogpatch\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Iamsu!: Chicken strips and Moscato on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQcxMU3uvLg\">Don’t Stop\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Keep it real I don’t brag though… / Chicken strips, no escargot / [sippin’] on the Moscato.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To be fair, this lyric is from a young, mixtape-era Iamsu! and might not reflect the current palate of the multi-platinum rapper and producer from Richmond. (In fact, that’s probably true of every rapper on this list, so take these lyrics with a grain of salt.) But when I first heard this song in my 20s, it’s a line that did — and still does — resonate for its unglamorized celebration of living on a low-budget microwaveable diet while maintaining a glimmer of high-life ambition. Personally, I’d take chicken strips over escargot nine out of ten times. And, from the sound of it, so would Suzy 6 Speed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956086\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956086\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"The rapper P-Lo wiggles his fingers in delight over a plate of chicken wings sitting on a bed of dollar bills.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/PLO-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">P-Lo often raps about his love of chicken (chicken adobo, fried chicken, chicken wings), and his favorite food-related slang word is also “chicken” (as a stand in for “money”). \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>P-Lo: Chicken wings in the strip club on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-ajtPhAQ1U\">Going To Work\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“In the strip club eating chicken wings.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cspan style=\"font-weight: 400\">\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13938479","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/span>There may not be another rapper on this list with as much love for chicken wings as Pinole’s P-Lo. For starters, the lyricist and producer launched a transnational food tour, teaming up with Filipino restaurants around the U.S. and Canada to deliver collaborative one-off dishes, including \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935891/p-lo-senor-sisig-filipino-food-tour-oakland\">his own spicy sinigang wings at Señor Sisig in Oakland\u003c/a>. If that’s not enough, he has popped up on popular social media channels like \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/bayareafoodz/?hl=en\">Bay Area Foodz\u003c/a> as \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJYkVcpM6E0\">he searches for the best wings around the Yay\u003c/a>. His songs are even featured on \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwyzdhfrNCE/\">national commercials for Wingstop\u003c/a>. For P-Lo, it’s always time to bring back the bass — and taste.\u003cb>\u003ci>\u003c/i>\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Guap (formerly Guapdad 4000): Chicken adobo on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DaovaJgytE\">Chicken Adobo\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“How I fell in love with you it was beautiful / Like chicken adobo how you fill me up.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the Black Filipino American rapper from West Oakland, \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13905208/a-new-generation-of-filipino-hip-hop-builds-on-a-deep-bay-area-legacy\">food has always played a central role in his upbringing\u003c/a>. The anime-loving, Marvel comics fan grew up in a Filipino household eating champorado, and his songs have never shied away from references to his dual cultures. In what might be his most well-known song, Guap equates romantic satiation to filling up on a bowl of chicken adobo. His love of food goes beyond the booth — he recently spoke out on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13950363/keith-lee-tiktok-oakland-sf-bay-area-struggles\">the recent Keith Lee fiasco\u003c/a>, and he also put together\u003ca href=\"https://trippin.world/guide/oaklands-top-food-joints-with-rapper-guapdad-4000\"> a map of his favorite places to eat around The Town\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Cellski: Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar cheese on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6wFRZOd7n8\">Chedda\u003c/a>”\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Gotta get the cheddar, fuck the [federals].”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As most food mentions in Bay Area rap goes, Cellski’s mention of this quintessentially North American breakfast combo isn’t exactly a homage to the real ingredients, as much as it is a reference to his hustling. His 1998 \u003ca href=\"https://www.discogs.com/release/841568-Cellski-Canadian-Bacon-Hash-Browns/image/SW1hZ2U6NDg3ODMxNzk=\">album cover\u003c/a> for \u003ci>Canadian Bacon & Hash Browns \u003c/i>features a cartoon depiction of the rapper getting pulled over and arrested by a Canadian mountie, with an open trunk revealing pounds of medicinal herbs. Nonetheless, there’s a good chance that the veteran San Francisco spitter actually does like to carry Canadian bacon, hash browns and cheddar around — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13922141/cellskis-big-mafi-burgers-come-with-a-side-of-sf-rap-history\">he’s a part-time foodie who runs his own burger pop-up, after all\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13956089\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13956089\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg\" alt=\"Illustration of the rapper Dru Down in gold sunglasses and a black trench coat, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and an ice cream sundae on the table in front of him.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"2000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-768x768.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1536x1536.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/04/DRU-DOWN-Color-1-1920x1920.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a famous 1996 beef, Dru Down and the Luniz accused New Orleans rapper Master P (who started his musical career in the Bay Area) for stealing their concept of the “Ice Cream Man” — slang for a narcotics dealer. \u003ccite>(Torre / @torre.pentel)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Dru Down: Ice cream on “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uNv2qAje-Q\">Ice Cream Man\u003c/a>” (with the Luniz)\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>“Get your ice cream, ice cream / Not Ice-T, not Ice Cube, ice cream.”\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not intended for children, the classic 1993 anthem off Dru Down’s \u003ci>Fools From The Street \u003c/i>paints a startling picture of addiction and illicit drug distribution around Oakland in the wake of Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs. Despite its unapologetic content, “Ice Cream Man” went on to establish an indisputably popular food motif in national rap music: ice cream as a stand-in for drug dealing. Since the production includes an audio sampling of an ice cream truck’s inimitable tune, listening to it evokes a sense of nostalgia for the frozen treat — and for \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop\">golden-era Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13955802/bay-area-rappers-food-lyrics-illustrations-e-40-larry-june","authors":["11748"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_12276","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_21883","arts_5397","arts_1601","arts_10278","arts_1297","arts_3771","arts_831","arts_21738","arts_1558","arts_9337","arts_1143","arts_1803","arts_1146","arts_19942","arts_19347","arts_3478","arts_3800"],"featImg":"arts_13956152","label":"source_arts_13955802"},"arts_13952260":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13952260","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13952260","score":null,"sort":[1707929631000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1707929631,"format":"aside","title":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz","headTitle":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz | KQED","content":"\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1080px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1080\" height=\"1080\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg 1080w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-768x768.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1080px) 100vw, 1080px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ cultural impact over the past 40 years has been felt around the globe. The crew is pictured here backstage in San Francisco in 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On an overcast November day in Oakland, DJ Shortkut – a member of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz DJ crew – was the featured performer on a boat cruise, as part of the DMC World DJ Finals festivities. The weather didn’t get too rough during the two-hour tour, which meandered out to the Bay Bridge and back to port at Jack London Square. The worst was some mildly choppy squalls into fierce headwinds. Because this wasn’t your average boat cruise – its attendees mainly consisted of DJs from all over the world in town for the DMC battle – the ship’s crew circled around Treasure Island for a bit, instead of heading further out into the open sea.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The calmer waters allowed Shortkut, who had been playing a vibrant set of mostly classic midtempo hip-hop, to show off his mixing and scratching skills a bit. As the boat headed back toward its East Bay dock, Shortkut unleashed an impressive display of scratching skills that lasted for a good five minutes. As the boat neared its mooring, the DJ called his peers to the turntables. What followed was an unforgettable, and super-fun, display of global turntablism at its best, as each DJ in succession laid down a wicked scratch segment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937761\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937761\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person with a shaved head stands at a table as a screen behind them shows the images of several people.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It seemed appropriate for Shortkut to be leading the activities. Once a battle entrant in the DMCs himself and understudy to fellow Piklz Qbert, Apollo, and Mix Master Mike, Shortkut has become an accomplished master in his own right – most recently playing an opening set on LL Cool J’s star-studded Hip Hop 50 tour. The message to the younger DJs on the boat was clear: keep developing your skills and be a balanced DJ who can rise to any occasion – scratching and beat-juggling skills are nice, but rocking a party with impeccable selection while displaying your skills is even better.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Perfecting – and Teaching – the Art\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz first rose to prominence during the ’90s, winning multiple world DJ battle titles as a crew and individually while displaying innovative new techniques that elevated turntablism to unprecedented heights. After revolutionizing the artform and birthing scratch music as a genre, by the decade’s end, they had left an indelible mark on DJ culture and furthered its global reach.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952265\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952265\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan in 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Christie Zee, the organizer for 2023’s DMC World Battle, held in San Francisco, has worked off and on for the London-based organization since 1998. She first became aware of the Piklz from an old boyfriend’s copy of DJ Qbert’s \u003cem>Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik\u003c/em> mixtape – “It just had so much scratching and it was so fun,” she says. She recalls meeting the crew for the first time in 1999, at the DMC World Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m really delicate, really careful about (saying) \u003cem>pioneer\u003c/em> versus \u003cem>legend\u003c/em>, but I do think they were pioneering, because of things they’ve innovated and presented and invented,” she says. “They didn’t invent the scratch, but they just progressed the hell out of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Obviously they have titles under their belts,” says Rob Swift, a founding member of the X-Men/X-Ecutioners, the New York turntablists who famously battled the Piklz in 1996. “But for me, I would say their most pivotal contribution to DJing is teaching the art. Before the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, nobody was teaching. DJing was a secret art.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952266\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952266\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1192\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-800x542.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1020x691.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-768x520.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1536x1041.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with Japanese fans, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Swift – who’s been teaching a DJ course at the New School for Liberal Arts in New York since 2014 – speaks from experience. Within months of Qbert developing the crab scratch, Swift was using the technique in battles. He cites the instructional \u003cem>Turntable TV\u003c/em> series of video tutorials as not only an inspiration for the X-Men, but also for other DJs and even corporate entities. As a result, more people started DJing and the culture grew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Before the Piklz, all of us had our own personal terminology for DJing. But the Piklz started (creating) terms that globally started to become accepted and become the consensus terms… Q started giving individual techniques specific names. In doing so, it made the art teachable, because you can’t teach someone by saying, yo, make it go \u003cem>wigga wigga wigga wigga\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Now these guys are selling videos to kids in Japan, kids in Canada, kids across the country, kids in Europe that had no clue how to do this shit… Myself, (Roc) Raida, Mista Sinista, (Total) Eclipse, we were inspired by Q, and we started teaching how to juggle, and we made videotapes just like them.” Without the Picklz, he says, there wouldn’t be “the ripple effects of what we see now, of all these DJ schools, all of these people teaching on YouTube, all these online tutorials, all these companies designing gear with all these effects.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952270\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952270\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1156\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-800x526.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1020x670.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-768x505.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1536x1009.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Vestax headquarters in Tokyo, Japan, to preview their signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Signature Models and Scratch Technique\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz also served as consultants to audio companies like Vestax and Ortofon to develop ISP-branded mixers and needles; more recently, Shortkut served as a brand ambassador for Serato’s vinyl emulation software. In a 2022 video tutorial for \u003cem>Wired\u003c/em>, the master turntablist demonstrates 15 levels of scratching, from the basic “baby scratch” to complex combos, rhythm and drum scratches, and the beat-juggle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Shortkut, beat-juggling is “live manual remixing, basically, with two turntables and a mixer” utilizing two copies of the same record, or two different records. When done properly, the technique creates an entirely new beat using existing sounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike estimates that he and Qbert have named hundreds of specific scratches. Among his original contributions is the “Tweaker,” which was developed accidentally, due to a power outage. “When you cut a turntable off, the sound still comes out of it” when the needle is left on the record. “You got to manually move the belt with your hand, which (makes) a totally way-out, dragging sound from the record.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952268\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1186\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952268\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1020x688.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1536x1036.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz, mid-routine in Seattle, 1994. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In live shows, Mike deploys an arsenal of sound banks with trees of various audio samples for different instruments. He often improvises his sets – rarely playing the same scratch solo twice. With all the scratches he’s invented, “If I’m performing live, it’s all about if I can remember it on the spot.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s most ubiquitous scratch may be the crab, which uses the crossfader to chop the audio signal, similar to the transformer scratch. Unlike the transformer – performed with just thumb and forefinger – the crab utilizes a rapid tapping motion with the other three fingers, resulting in finer chops, like a triplet of 1/16th notes instead of quarter-notes. The crab can then be combined with other techniques like the stab, the tear, or the orbit to create an infinite number of scratch patterns.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Q says the crab has nothing to do with crustaceans, actually. It was originally called the crepe, based off a food order he’d made in Lebanon. Except no one could pronounce the rolled r’s of a Lebanese accent correctly. Among the other scratches he’s named personally, “there’s like the hydro, the laser, the phaser, the swipe, oh man, let’s see, there’s the clover tear, the prism scratch. … there’s so many.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952274\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 749px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952274\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"749\" height=\"960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg 749w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad-160x205.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 749px) 100vw, 749px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A Vestax advertisement for the Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>100mph Backsliding Turkey Kuts\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz began developing tools for DJs with the original \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> vinyl record, which resampled various sound effects and verbal phrases, making them more scratch-friendly and accessible. Their imprint Dirt Style has released dozens of such records over the decades with names like \u003cem>Bionic Booger Breaks\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Buttcrack Breaks\u003c/em>, or \u003cem>Scratch Fetishes of the Third Kind\u003c/em>. These records are sometimes credited to DJ Qbert, DJ Flare or Mix Master Mike, and sometimes credited to aliases like the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards, The Wax Fondler and Darth Fader.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> led to another innovation: the \u003cem>Scratchy Seal\u003c/em> series of skipless records. As Qbert explains, there’s a science behind this. “If you look at the turntable, it spins at 33 ⅓ — 33.33333 (revolutions) per minute. If you just make the BPM of the sound effect 33-point-dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, the magic number, it’s all going to be repetitive. No matter where the needle jumps, it’s going to land on the same sound again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952264\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952264\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert and Mix Master Mike backstage at the 2023 DMC championships in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>How\u003c/em> the Piklz scratched also made a difference. According to crew member D-Styles, prior to the Piklz, “a lot of the scratch styles were straight ahead. It was very on the beat. ” He likens the Piklz’ approach to Bird and Dizzy’s excursions in the bebop era – “being ahead of the beat, or behind the beat, being more free with it, not so (much) in the line.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While there were other DJ crews before the Piklz, Swift says, the idea of a turntable orchestra was uncharted territory. “One guy would take a horn hit, another guy would take drums, the other guy would take vocals. Nobody was doing that before the Piklz.” This became a common practice, and led to the introduction of team routines in major battles. Qbert remarks that he and the other Piklz have been doing synchronized routines for so long, the communication between them has become telepathic. “It’s just kind of like walking in step.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952269\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1173\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952269\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert onstage with guitarist Buckethead at the Jazznojazz Festival in Zurich, 1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Another advancement was the first all-scratching record, i.e. a musical composition consisting entirely of scratched sounds. The scratch music trend resulted in a slew of solo releases — many of them on the now-defunct Bomb Hip Hop label – as well as group albums from the X-Ecutioners, The Allies, and Birdy Nam Nam, and one-offs like El Stew, an alternative supergroup featuring guitarist Buckethead, ISP alumni DJ Disk and producer Eddie Def. After turntablism’s initial wave died down in the early 2000s, the Piklz continued to develop the genre, which Shortkut says has become its own culture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a niche market,” Qbert says. “But I’m totally immersed in it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952275\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952275\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1536x1152.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at a Red Bull event. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘It’s Just Some Human Shit, and It’s a Beautiful Thing’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>On his solo albums, Qbert has frequently explored sci-fi themes, beginning with 1998’s \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>, and continuing with 2014’s \u003cem>Extraterrestria\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Galaxxxian\u003c/em>, 2020’s \u003cem>Origins (Wave Twisters 0)\u003c/em>, and 2022’s \u003cem>Next Cosmos\u003c/em>. He’s imagined what scratch music from across the galaxy might sound like, evoking starships navigating irradiated asteroid belts, alien creatures scurrying across cratered landscapes, and underwater temples emanating immemorial chants over percussive beats, while turning Rakim and Too Short phrases into Zen mantras. He’s done all this by embracing the musical possibilities of the turntable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“On what other equipment could you make the sounds go backwards and forwards and just do all these weird things with it? You know, with your hands,” he says. Unlike pressing buttons on a computer, “this is like fucking connected to your soul. It’s not like AI can do it. It’s just some human shit, and it’s a beautiful thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike served as the official DJ for the Beastie Boys from 1998 up until 2012, later joined Cypress Hill, and has toured with arena rock giants Metallica, Guns ‘N’ Roses, and Godsmack, playing to crowds of up to 50,000. His solo catalog has expanded the turntablism field into new arenas – literally. “I’ve always targeted the rock audience,” Mike says. “I’m not just hip-hop. I’m everything around it. The greatness is having to conquer uncharted territories.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I like to remain mysterious in that sense as far as being a mysterious artist and being unpredictable. I’m the risk taker, right? It’s therapeutic for me at this point, but it’s like I’m just taking it as a mission because nobody’s doing this.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952267\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952267\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This philosophy extends from live shows to recordings. “Growing up, I was always listening to soundtrack music. Lalo Schifrin, Quincy Jones, Ennio Morricone.” His goal in making records is to capture a cinematic sense, to make “a soundtrack that can live forever.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His newest release, 2023’s \u003cem>Opus X Magnum\u003c/em>, is a headphone album with arena sensibilities. Or vice-versa. There’s lots of subtle instrumental and sound effect-y passages, along with chest-pumping drums and serpentine basslines. The quieter moments are few, but precious. MMM’s Pikl heritage is evident in the way horns, keyboards and vocal phrases are scratched vicariously, resulting in twisty turns that keep your ears guessing what’s next. To the artist’s credit, \u003cem>Opus\u003c/em> does sound epically cinematic throughout, its constantly changing moods and textures suggesting perpetual motion and a full dose of adrenaline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles’ two solo albums, released 17 years apart, illustrate his artistic growth. 2002’s \u003cem>Phantazmagorea\u003c/em> delves into dark themes, with vocal phrases seemingly selected for shock value, along with recognizable scratched snippets from KRS-One and Stetsasonic. 2019’s \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – inspired by a residency at Low End Theory, a club night frequented by lo-fi producers – recalls DJ Shadow’s \u003cem>Endtroducing\u003c/em> and the trip-hop era, while still using found vocals as documentary. D-Styles says \u003cem>Noises\u003c/em> was about being “more musical and less technical.” There’s plenty of scratching, but the emphasis is on overall composition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952271\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 597px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952271\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"597\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg 597w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016-160x136.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 597px) 100vw, 597px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Hiero Day 2016 in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Being a turntable composer, D-Styles maintains, means using scratching’s vocabulary as a musical language. “You look at it like an alphabet. You got chirps, you got flares, you got crabs, you got autobahns, you got Stewie’s, and all of that stuff. You can add swing to it, you could be ahead of the beat. Behind the beat. You can accent. There’s so much that goes into putting these combinations together.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Many Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Shortkut, meanwhile, joined forces with former ITF World Champion Vin Roc in 1999 to form Triple Threat, a DJ crew whose mission was to integrate turntablism into party-rocking live sets. “Just coming up as turntablists, we kind of like, created little monsters everywhere,” Apollo says. “All they would do is scratch in their bedrooms.” There’s more to DJing, he says, than just doing tricks and scratching and juggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Triple Threat released a well-received 2003 album, \u003cem>Many Styles\u003c/em>, which blended turntablist-oriented tracks with emcee features from Planet Asia, Black Thought, Souls of Mischief and Zion-I. The trio toured the United States and Asia regularly, and remained active up until the late 2010s. Apollo – who judged the DMC World Finals last year – still identifies as a Pikl, and says his focus nowadays is on upgrading his studio and reestablishing himself as a producer; he hopes to contribute some tracks to future ISP albums.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952276\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1440px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1440\" height=\"1920\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952276\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg 1440w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1152x1536.jpg 1152w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1440px) 100vw, 1440px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, at right, on the F.O.R.C.E. Tour with (L–R) DJ Z-Trip, LL Cool J and DJ Jazzy Jeff. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Shortkut’s recorded output mainly consists of DJ mixtapes covering a wide variety of genres, but he did produce 2012’s “Twelve,” a funky, fun track with “Sesame Street”-esque vocal samples, for the Beat Junkies 45 Series, as well as 2017’s “Mini-Wheels,” a 7-inch single for Thud Rumble, and “Short Rugs,” a limited-edition slipmat designed for 45 rpm records and a 7-inch record with three skipless vinyl scratch tracks. He’s been an occasional headliner at DJ Platurn’s 45 Sessions party; playing all-vinyl sets, he says, helps him maintain his sanity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a lengthy break following 2000’s “final” performance, Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles officially reformed as ISP for 2015’s \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>, their first full-length release. “This was the first time as a scratch artist that I’ve felt able to do shows with the Piklz where people know the songs,” Shortkut says. The album’s moods range from dark to soulful to jazzy, and were intended to be templates for live performances that typically involve improvised scratch soloing over a structured song with defined instrumental parts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952273\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952273\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan, making their ’13th Floor’ album in 2015. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Many of \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>’s compositional elements were developed by D-Styles, who went on to become an online instructor at the Beat Junkies Institute of Sound in 2019. He notes the Piklz are more than halfway through their next, as-yet-untitled album — several tracks from which they previewed live during their recent DMC showcase in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My strength is, I’m always in the studio,” says D-Styles. “I always have these ideas, these sketches that I’ll try at home by myself. But I always have parts in mind, so if i have drums, I’ll be like, this is perfect for Shortkut. And then I have these keyboards, you know, these notes. So I’ll carry that side. And then I’ll give Q this (vocal) phrase. And I know he’ll know what to do with it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Aesthetics That ‘Vibrate a Certain Way’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert maintains he’s still a student, trying to learn new things after all these years. He keeps pushing himself to new levels because he doesn’t want to repeat what he’s already done. “You got to come unique and original, or else it’s like, fucking wack. Or it’s, \u003cem>ah… he did the same shit last time\u003c/em>, you know? I don’t want to hear that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952294\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1811px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1811\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952294\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg 1811w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-800x265.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1020x338.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-160x53.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-768x254.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1536x509.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1811px) 100vw, 1811px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sample of Qbert’s visual aesthetic from three full-length albums: ‘Extraterrestria,’ ‘Origins Wave Twisters 0,’ and ‘Next Cosmos in 5D.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The most sublime aspect of the Piklz legacy may be their aesthetic, best described as part kung-fu, part sci-fi, part zany humor, yet firmly grounded in DJ culture and hip-hop expression. This is reflected in Mike and Q’s outsize personalities. “Those two in particular are very much outside of this Earth,” says Christie Z, noting that Mike’s custom Serato vinyl is covered in Zectarian language. (In 2017, Qbert joined Mike for a duo performance of MMM’s alienesque single “Channel Zecktar” live at the NAMM showcase.) Artists are sometimes kooky, she says, but she’s used to it by now. “That’s what they do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Mike sees himself as a glowing, ultramagnetic, cosmic antenna. “I would say, you know, my brain is like a super cerebral satellite dish that I’m just logging into the channels in my mind, and I call it the access to the interstellar network, my own interstellar network that’s going on in my head.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Qbert, “nowadays I work off of karma,” he says. Though he’s consulted for audio companies before, when he’s asked for input, he doesn’t insist on contractual agreements. “I’ll give you the honest truth.” If a mixer could be sleeker and more ergonomic, he’ll say so. He feels equipment makers could be more visionary and futuristic with their products. “They could put chromatherapy in these things, you know, they vibrate a certain way to make it heal you as a human.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For all of Qbert’s zany sense of humor and embracing of otherworldliness, he’s remarkably down to earth at times. That is to say, his ideology isn’t illogical at all – just advanced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With any art, if you’re deep into it, you’re already touching infinity,” he says. “So you could do so many things in it that you haven’t done. And there’s freakin’ a bag of infinity left — that is never-ending.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":3685,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":46},"modified":1708071864,"excerpt":"The Skratch Piklz' innovations in scratch technique, education and battle tools have impacted the globe. ","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"The Skratch Piklz' innovations in scratch technique, education and battle tools have impacted the globe. ","title":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"Turntablism’s Mightiest Heroes: The Legacy, Impact and Aesthetics of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz","datePublished":"2024-02-14T08:53:51-08:00","dateModified":"2024-02-16T00:24:24-08:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","status":"publish","sourceUrl":"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"source":"That's My Word","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13952260/turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952272\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1080px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952272\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1080\" height=\"1080\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017.jpg 1080w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-800x800.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-1020x1020.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-backstage-in-SF-2017-768x768.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1080px) 100vw, 1080px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ cultural impact over the past 40 years has been felt around the globe. The crew is pictured here backstage in San Francisco in 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On an overcast November day in Oakland, DJ Shortkut – a member of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz DJ crew – was the featured performer on a boat cruise, as part of the DMC World DJ Finals festivities. The weather didn’t get too rough during the two-hour tour, which meandered out to the Bay Bridge and back to port at Jack London Square. The worst was some mildly choppy squalls into fierce headwinds. Because this wasn’t your average boat cruise – its attendees mainly consisted of DJs from all over the world in town for the DMC battle – the ship’s crew circled around Treasure Island for a bit, instead of heading further out into the open sea.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The calmer waters allowed Shortkut, who had been playing a vibrant set of mostly classic midtempo hip-hop, to show off his mixing and scratching skills a bit. As the boat headed back toward its East Bay dock, Shortkut unleashed an impressive display of scratching skills that lasted for a good five minutes. As the boat neared its mooring, the DJ called his peers to the turntables. What followed was an unforgettable, and super-fun, display of global turntablism at its best, as each DJ in succession laid down a wicked scratch segment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937761\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937761\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person with a shaved head stands at a table as a screen behind them shows the images of several people.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-22-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It seemed appropriate for Shortkut to be leading the activities. Once a battle entrant in the DMCs himself and understudy to fellow Piklz Qbert, Apollo, and Mix Master Mike, Shortkut has become an accomplished master in his own right – most recently playing an opening set on LL Cool J’s star-studded Hip Hop 50 tour. The message to the younger DJs on the boat was clear: keep developing your skills and be a balanced DJ who can rise to any occasion – scratching and beat-juggling skills are nice, but rocking a party with impeccable selection while displaying your skills is even better.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Perfecting – and Teaching – the Art\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz first rose to prominence during the ’90s, winning multiple world DJ battle titles as a crew and individually while displaying innovative new techniques that elevated turntablism to unprecedented heights. After revolutionizing the artform and birthing scratch music as a genre, by the decade’s end, they had left an indelible mark on DJ culture and furthered its global reach.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952265\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952265\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.decks_.93-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan in 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Christie Zee, the organizer for 2023’s DMC World Battle, held in San Francisco, has worked off and on for the London-based organization since 1998. She first became aware of the Piklz from an old boyfriend’s copy of DJ Qbert’s \u003cem>Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik\u003c/em> mixtape – “It just had so much scratching and it was so fun,” she says. She recalls meeting the crew for the first time in 1999, at the DMC World Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I’m really delicate, really careful about (saying) \u003cem>pioneer\u003c/em> versus \u003cem>legend\u003c/em>, but I do think they were pioneering, because of things they’ve innovated and presented and invented,” she says. “They didn’t invent the scratch, but they just progressed the hell out of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Obviously they have titles under their belts,” says Rob Swift, a founding member of the X-Men/X-Ecutioners, the New York turntablists who famously battled the Piklz in 1996. “But for me, I would say their most pivotal contribution to DJing is teaching the art. Before the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, nobody was teaching. DJing was a secret art.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952266\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952266\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1192\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-800x542.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1020x691.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-768x520.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan2_-1536x1041.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with Japanese fans, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Swift – who’s been teaching a DJ course at the New School for Liberal Arts in New York since 2014 – speaks from experience. Within months of Qbert developing the crab scratch, Swift was using the technique in battles. He cites the instructional \u003cem>Turntable TV\u003c/em> series of video tutorials as not only an inspiration for the X-Men, but also for other DJs and even corporate entities. As a result, more people started DJing and the culture grew.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Before the Piklz, all of us had our own personal terminology for DJing. But the Piklz started (creating) terms that globally started to become accepted and become the consensus terms… Q started giving individual techniques specific names. In doing so, it made the art teachable, because you can’t teach someone by saying, yo, make it go \u003cem>wigga wigga wigga wigga\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Now these guys are selling videos to kids in Japan, kids in Canada, kids across the country, kids in Europe that had no clue how to do this shit… Myself, (Roc) Raida, Mista Sinista, (Total) Eclipse, we were inspired by Q, and we started teaching how to juggle, and we made videotapes just like them.” Without the Picklz, he says, there wouldn’t be “the ripple effects of what we see now, of all these DJ schools, all of these people teaching on YouTube, all these online tutorials, all these companies designing gear with all these effects.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952270\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952270\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1156\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-800x526.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1020x670.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-768x505.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Japan_.vestax-1536x1009.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Vestax headquarters in Tokyo, Japan, to preview their signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Signature Models and Scratch Technique\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz also served as consultants to audio companies like Vestax and Ortofon to develop ISP-branded mixers and needles; more recently, Shortkut served as a brand ambassador for Serato’s vinyl emulation software. In a 2022 video tutorial for \u003cem>Wired\u003c/em>, the master turntablist demonstrates 15 levels of scratching, from the basic “baby scratch” to complex combos, rhythm and drum scratches, and the beat-juggle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Shortkut, beat-juggling is “live manual remixing, basically, with two turntables and a mixer” utilizing two copies of the same record, or two different records. When done properly, the technique creates an entirely new beat using existing sounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike estimates that he and Qbert have named hundreds of specific scratches. Among his original contributions is the “Tweaker,” which was developed accidentally, due to a power outage. “When you cut a turntable off, the sound still comes out of it” when the needle is left on the record. “You got to manually move the belt with your hand, which (makes) a totally way-out, dragging sound from the record.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952268\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1186\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952268\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-800x539.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1020x688.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-768x518.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.3fromsideshortkut-1536x1036.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz, mid-routine in Seattle, 1994. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In live shows, Mike deploys an arsenal of sound banks with trees of various audio samples for different instruments. He often improvises his sets – rarely playing the same scratch solo twice. With all the scratches he’s invented, “If I’m performing live, it’s all about if I can remember it on the spot.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s most ubiquitous scratch may be the crab, which uses the crossfader to chop the audio signal, similar to the transformer scratch. Unlike the transformer – performed with just thumb and forefinger – the crab utilizes a rapid tapping motion with the other three fingers, resulting in finer chops, like a triplet of 1/16th notes instead of quarter-notes. The crab can then be combined with other techniques like the stab, the tear, or the orbit to create an infinite number of scratch patterns.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Q says the crab has nothing to do with crustaceans, actually. It was originally called the crepe, based off a food order he’d made in Lebanon. Except no one could pronounce the rolled r’s of a Lebanese accent correctly. Among the other scratches he’s named personally, “there’s like the hydro, the laser, the phaser, the swipe, oh man, let’s see, there’s the clover tear, the prism scratch. … there’s so many.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952274\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 749px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952274\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"749\" height=\"960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad.jpg 749w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/1996-Vestax-ISP-ad-160x205.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 749px) 100vw, 749px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A Vestax advertisement for the Invisibl Skratch Piklz’ signature mixer. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>100mph Backsliding Turkey Kuts\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Piklz began developing tools for DJs with the original \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> vinyl record, which resampled various sound effects and verbal phrases, making them more scratch-friendly and accessible. Their imprint Dirt Style has released dozens of such records over the decades with names like \u003cem>Bionic Booger Breaks\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Buttcrack Breaks\u003c/em>, or \u003cem>Scratch Fetishes of the Third Kind\u003c/em>. These records are sometimes credited to DJ Qbert, DJ Flare or Mix Master Mike, and sometimes credited to aliases like the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards, The Wax Fondler and Darth Fader.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em> led to another innovation: the \u003cem>Scratchy Seal\u003c/em> series of skipless records. As Qbert explains, there’s a science behind this. “If you look at the turntable, it spins at 33 ⅓ — 33.33333 (revolutions) per minute. If you just make the BPM of the sound effect 33-point-dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, the magic number, it’s all going to be repetitive. No matter where the needle jumps, it’s going to land on the same sound again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952264\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952264\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_MMM_best_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2000-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert and Mix Master Mike backstage at the 2023 DMC championships in San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>How\u003c/em> the Piklz scratched also made a difference. According to crew member D-Styles, prior to the Piklz, “a lot of the scratch styles were straight ahead. It was very on the beat. ” He likens the Piklz’ approach to Bird and Dizzy’s excursions in the bebop era – “being ahead of the beat, or behind the beat, being more free with it, not so (much) in the line.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While there were other DJ crews before the Piklz, Swift says, the idea of a turntable orchestra was uncharted territory. “One guy would take a horn hit, another guy would take drums, the other guy would take vocals. Nobody was doing that before the Piklz.” This became a common practice, and led to the introduction of team routines in major battles. Qbert remarks that he and the other Piklz have been doing synchronized routines for so long, the communication between them has become telepathic. “It’s just kind of like walking in step.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952269\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1173\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952269\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.buckethead-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Qbert onstage with guitarist Buckethead at the Jazznojazz Festival in Zurich, 1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Another advancement was the first all-scratching record, i.e. a musical composition consisting entirely of scratched sounds. The scratch music trend resulted in a slew of solo releases — many of them on the now-defunct Bomb Hip Hop label – as well as group albums from the X-Ecutioners, The Allies, and Birdy Nam Nam, and one-offs like El Stew, an alternative supergroup featuring guitarist Buckethead, ISP alumni DJ Disk and producer Eddie Def. After turntablism’s initial wave died down in the early 2000s, the Piklz continued to develop the genre, which Shortkut says has become its own culture.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It’s a niche market,” Qbert says. “But I’m totally immersed in it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952275\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952275\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/IMG_2459-1536x1152.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at a Red Bull event. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘It’s Just Some Human Shit, and It’s a Beautiful Thing’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>On his solo albums, Qbert has frequently explored sci-fi themes, beginning with 1998’s \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>, and continuing with 2014’s \u003cem>Extraterrestria\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Galaxxxian\u003c/em>, 2020’s \u003cem>Origins (Wave Twisters 0)\u003c/em>, and 2022’s \u003cem>Next Cosmos\u003c/em>. He’s imagined what scratch music from across the galaxy might sound like, evoking starships navigating irradiated asteroid belts, alien creatures scurrying across cratered landscapes, and underwater temples emanating immemorial chants over percussive beats, while turning Rakim and Too Short phrases into Zen mantras. He’s done all this by embracing the musical possibilities of the turntable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“On what other equipment could you make the sounds go backwards and forwards and just do all these weird things with it? You know, with your hands,” he says. Unlike pressing buttons on a computer, “this is like fucking connected to your soul. It’s not like AI can do it. It’s just some human shit, and it’s a beautiful thing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike served as the official DJ for the Beastie Boys from 1998 up until 2012, later joined Cypress Hill, and has toured with arena rock giants Metallica, Guns ‘N’ Roses, and Godsmack, playing to crowds of up to 50,000. His solo catalog has expanded the turntablism field into new arenas – literally. “I’ve always targeted the rock audience,” Mike says. “I’m not just hip-hop. I’m everything around it. The greatness is having to conquer uncharted territories.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I like to remain mysterious in that sense as far as being a mysterious artist and being unpredictable. I’m the risk taker, right? It’s therapeutic for me at this point, but it’s like I’m just taking it as a mission because nobody’s doing this.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952267\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952267\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1196\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1020x694.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMMonthedecks-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This philosophy extends from live shows to recordings. “Growing up, I was always listening to soundtrack music. Lalo Schifrin, Quincy Jones, Ennio Morricone.” His goal in making records is to capture a cinematic sense, to make “a soundtrack that can live forever.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His newest release, 2023’s \u003cem>Opus X Magnum\u003c/em>, is a headphone album with arena sensibilities. Or vice-versa. There’s lots of subtle instrumental and sound effect-y passages, along with chest-pumping drums and serpentine basslines. The quieter moments are few, but precious. MMM’s Pikl heritage is evident in the way horns, keyboards and vocal phrases are scratched vicariously, resulting in twisty turns that keep your ears guessing what’s next. To the artist’s credit, \u003cem>Opus\u003c/em> does sound epically cinematic throughout, its constantly changing moods and textures suggesting perpetual motion and a full dose of adrenaline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles’ two solo albums, released 17 years apart, illustrate his artistic growth. 2002’s \u003cem>Phantazmagorea\u003c/em> delves into dark themes, with vocal phrases seemingly selected for shock value, along with recognizable scratched snippets from KRS-One and Stetsasonic. 2019’s \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – inspired by a residency at Low End Theory, a club night frequented by lo-fi producers – recalls DJ Shadow’s \u003cem>Endtroducing\u003c/em> and the trip-hop era, while still using found vocals as documentary. D-Styles says \u003cem>Noises\u003c/em> was about being “more musical and less technical.” There’s plenty of scratching, but the emphasis is on overall composition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952271\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 597px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952271\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"597\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016.jpg 597w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-at-HEIRO-DAY-2016-160x136.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 597px) 100vw, 597px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at Hiero Day 2016 in Oakland. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Being a turntable composer, D-Styles maintains, means using scratching’s vocabulary as a musical language. “You look at it like an alphabet. You got chirps, you got flares, you got crabs, you got autobahns, you got Stewie’s, and all of that stuff. You can add swing to it, you could be ahead of the beat. Behind the beat. You can accent. There’s so much that goes into putting these combinations together.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Many Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Shortkut, meanwhile, joined forces with former ITF World Champion Vin Roc in 1999 to form Triple Threat, a DJ crew whose mission was to integrate turntablism into party-rocking live sets. “Just coming up as turntablists, we kind of like, created little monsters everywhere,” Apollo says. “All they would do is scratch in their bedrooms.” There’s more to DJing, he says, than just doing tricks and scratching and juggling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Triple Threat released a well-received 2003 album, \u003cem>Many Styles\u003c/em>, which blended turntablist-oriented tracks with emcee features from Planet Asia, Black Thought, Souls of Mischief and Zion-I. The trio toured the United States and Asia regularly, and remained active up until the late 2010s. Apollo – who judged the DMC World Finals last year – still identifies as a Pikl, and says his focus nowadays is on upgrading his studio and reestablishing himself as a producer; he hopes to contribute some tracks to future ISP albums.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952276\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1440px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1440\" height=\"1920\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952276\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut.jpg 1440w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/LLCoolJ.Ztrip_.shortkut-1152x1536.jpg 1152w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1440px) 100vw, 1440px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, at right, on the F.O.R.C.E. Tour with (L–R) DJ Z-Trip, LL Cool J and DJ Jazzy Jeff. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Shortkut’s recorded output mainly consists of DJ mixtapes covering a wide variety of genres, but he did produce 2012’s “Twelve,” a funky, fun track with “Sesame Street”-esque vocal samples, for the Beat Junkies 45 Series, as well as 2017’s “Mini-Wheels,” a 7-inch single for Thud Rumble, and “Short Rugs,” a limited-edition slipmat designed for 45 rpm records and a 7-inch record with three skipless vinyl scratch tracks. He’s been an occasional headliner at DJ Platurn’s 45 Sessions party; playing all-vinyl sets, he says, helps him maintain his sanity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a lengthy break following 2000’s “final” performance, Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles officially reformed as ISP for 2015’s \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>, their first full-length release. “This was the first time as a scratch artist that I’ve felt able to do shows with the Piklz where people know the songs,” Shortkut says. The album’s moods range from dark to soulful to jazzy, and were intended to be templates for live performances that typically involve improvised scratch soloing over a structured song with defined instrumental parts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952273\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952273\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"1000\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-making-of-The-13th-Floor-album-Japan-2015-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Japan, making their ’13th Floor’ album in 2015. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Many of \u003cem>The 13th Floor\u003c/em>’s compositional elements were developed by D-Styles, who went on to become an online instructor at the Beat Junkies Institute of Sound in 2019. He notes the Piklz are more than halfway through their next, as-yet-untitled album — several tracks from which they previewed live during their recent DMC showcase in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“My strength is, I’m always in the studio,” says D-Styles. “I always have these ideas, these sketches that I’ll try at home by myself. But I always have parts in mind, so if i have drums, I’ll be like, this is perfect for Shortkut. And then I have these keyboards, you know, these notes. So I’ll carry that side. And then I’ll give Q this (vocal) phrase. And I know he’ll know what to do with it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Aesthetics That ‘Vibrate a Certain Way’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert maintains he’s still a student, trying to learn new things after all these years. He keeps pushing himself to new levels because he doesn’t want to repeat what he’s already done. “You got to come unique and original, or else it’s like, fucking wack. Or it’s, \u003cem>ah… he did the same shit last time\u003c/em>, you know? I don’t want to hear that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952294\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1811px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1811\" height=\"600\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952294\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_.jpg 1811w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-800x265.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1020x338.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-160x53.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-768x254.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Qbert_.LPs_-1536x509.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1811px) 100vw, 1811px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A sample of Qbert’s visual aesthetic from three full-length albums: ‘Extraterrestria,’ ‘Origins Wave Twisters 0,’ and ‘Next Cosmos in 5D.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The most sublime aspect of the Piklz legacy may be their aesthetic, best described as part kung-fu, part sci-fi, part zany humor, yet firmly grounded in DJ culture and hip-hop expression. This is reflected in Mike and Q’s outsize personalities. “Those two in particular are very much outside of this Earth,” says Christie Z, noting that Mike’s custom Serato vinyl is covered in Zectarian language. (In 2017, Qbert joined Mike for a duo performance of MMM’s alienesque single “Channel Zecktar” live at the NAMM showcase.) Artists are sometimes kooky, she says, but she’s used to it by now. “That’s what they do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Mike sees himself as a glowing, ultramagnetic, cosmic antenna. “I would say, you know, my brain is like a super cerebral satellite dish that I’m just logging into the channels in my mind, and I call it the access to the interstellar network, my own interstellar network that’s going on in my head.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for Qbert, “nowadays I work off of karma,” he says. Though he’s consulted for audio companies before, when he’s asked for input, he doesn’t insist on contractual agreements. “I’ll give you the honest truth.” If a mixer could be sleeker and more ergonomic, he’ll say so. He feels equipment makers could be more visionary and futuristic with their products. “They could put chromatherapy in these things, you know, they vibrate a certain way to make it heal you as a human.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For all of Qbert’s zany sense of humor and embracing of otherworldliness, he’s remarkably down to earth at times. That is to say, his ideology isn’t illogical at all – just advanced.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“With any art, if you’re deep into it, you’re already touching infinity,” he says. “So you could do so many things in it that you haven’t done. And there’s freakin’ a bag of infinity left — that is never-ending.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13952260/turntablism-invisibl-skratch-piklz-legacy-impact","authors":["11839"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_2854","arts_21712","arts_2852","arts_17218","arts_21940","arts_1146","arts_19347","arts_21711"],"featImg":"arts_13952262","label":"source_arts_13952260"},"arts_13952208":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13952208","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13952208","score":null,"sort":[1707929580000]},"parent":0,"labelTerm":{"site":"arts"},"blocks":[],"publishDate":1707929580,"format":"standard","title":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map","headTitle":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map | KQED","content":"\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On a recent Friday night in San Francisco, a couple thousand fans of DJ culture crammed into the cavernous main room of a nightclub in Hunters Point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside The Midway, it was elbow room-only from the stage to the back patio; many of those in the crowd were DJs themselves. The scene recalled the late ’90s-early 2000s glory days of the Bay Area, when turntablism seemed destined to become the Next Big Thing, and DJ nights dominated SF’s club scene. No one was there to dance; it wasn’t that kind of party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937762\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937762\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person wearing a baseball cap stands at a table under fluorescent lighting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The occasion was the DMC World Championship DJ Battle Finals, with some of the best DJs in the world competing against each other. But there was another attraction too: live showcases by the Invisibl Skratch Piklz and Mix Master Mike, the legendary DJs who transformed the Bay Area into a turntablist Mecca during a seminal era for local hip-hop. DMC event organizer Christie Zee put the proceedings into their proper context: “You can’t have a battle in the Bay without the Skratch Piklz.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As midnight approached, the lights dimmed, and the Piklz – Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles – were announced to cheers that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. The Piklz opened with the 2015 ISP track “Fresh Out of FVCKs,” with its ominous electric organ melody that transitions into repeating melodic chords. A snare drum beat came in, followed by a rhythmically scratched snippet of a stuttering vocal phrase. The electric organ chords shifted into a chopped melody as the snare dropped out, then returned. And that’s all before the mind-bending scratch solos that followed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Piklz proceeded to display their musicality, keeping their technical acumen within the groove pocket with synchronized timing. As is customary with the Piklz, each played the part of a specific instrumentalist: D-Styles as the keyboardist, Shortkut as the drummer, and Qbert as the scratch soloist.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952244\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952244\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A live version of “Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts” – a song from D-Styles’ 2019 album \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – and several unreleased ISP songs showed that \u003ca href=\"https://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/projects/jazzglossary/g/ghost_note.html\">ghost notes\u003c/a> aren’t just associated with jazz music. The turntable trio used the spaces between to impart a sense of presence and feel, a minimalist approach that allowed their scratches, cuts and juggles to resonate with maximum impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This would have been a hard act to follow for anyone but Mix Master Mike. The ISP co-founder, who’s been a solo artist since 1995 or so, has a gigantic stage presence and skills to match. A one-man musical blender, MMM unleashed a maelstrom of sonic fury, with bone-crunching drums, an entire range of musical and vocal phrases, and precise turntable cuts that deconstructed the individual pieces of a live performance — only to reconstruct all the fragments into an emotionally-thrilling pastiche. After his set, when Mike was celebrated with a Lifetime Achievement Award, the honor was clearly well-deserved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Invisible Skratch Piklz were celebrating, too – 2023 marks their 30th anniversary – and it’s safe to say no Bay Area crew has done more to advance the DJ artform. Along with New York’s X-Ecutioners and LA’s Beat Junkies, ISP have defined the term turntablist, carving out a cultural niche that rests on a hip-hop foundation but exists in its own space.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937759\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"People stand in a crowd leaning on a barrier indoors.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A crowd watches finalists compete during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Piklz have counted many firsts. As hip-hop’s relationship with the DJ has flipped from essential to inconsequential, they’ve maintained the DJ tradition for future generations, and extended its global reach. Over the past four decades, they’ve gone from students of the scratch to wizened masters of turntable music.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And like most cultural icons, their backstory is involved, multilayered and fascinating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1528px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1528\" height=\"1032\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg 1528w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-800x540.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-1020x689.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-768x519.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1528px) 100vw, 1528px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A young Qbert at a community hall mobile DJ dance party. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The Garage Party Era\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Invisibl Skratch Piklz story begins in what former ISP manager Alex Aquino calls the “pre-hip-hop era” of the late ’70s-early ’80s, when youth-oriented street dance intersected with pioneering mobile DJ crews and a Filipino-American tradition of garage parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This was before breakdancing,” Aquino says. He recalls being 6 or 7 and seeing strutters, poppers and elements of DJ culture – including the Filipino mobile DJ crews who established a scene built around vinyl records, large stereo systems and frequent dance parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of those Filipino DJs was Apollo Novicio, a.k.a. DJ Apollo, a founding member of ISP who spent his early childhood roaming around the Mission District. By the time he reached middle school, his family had relocated to Daly City – where he likely attended some of the same parties as Aquino. “Back in the day, they’d have garage parties and there would be a DJ in the corner of the garage, set up on a washing machine and dryer and stuff like that. And at the parties, they would have popping and locking circles. Strutting, popping and locking. Breakdancing wasn’t even here yet, really. This was, I’d say, early ’80s, and that was pretty much my first exposure to the DJing and dancing element of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952292\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1004px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1004\" height=\"674\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952292\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png 1004w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-800x537.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-768x516.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1004px) 100vw, 1004px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Setup for a typical mobile DJ party in the early 1990s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1982, Aquino remembers, a New York transplant named Oscar Sop had introduced B-boying and fat laces to the neighborhood, becoming one of the Bay Area’s first breakdancers. Meanwhile, the DJ crews were becoming more professional, and getting hired for weddings, quinceaneras, traditional Filipino celebrations and the occasional school dance party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo recalls “doing the strutting, popping, locking thing before B-boying got here.” Back then, “I didn’t even know it was hip-hop. I was such a young age. I’m like, just doing it and like, later on find out, oh, this is a hip-hop culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to dancing being popular among Filipino youth, he remembers DJ groups proliferating at local high schools. “It was just kind of like the thing to do,” he says. “All the kids would form DJ groups.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know how to explain (why), but there was a lot of Filipino mobile disc jockey groups,” says DJ Apollo. ”Back in the seventies, my older brothers and sisters, they used to collect music and listen to music. Everybody had to go to the record store and buy vinyl.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952212\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1030px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952212\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1030\" height=\"778\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg 1030w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-800x604.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-1020x770.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-160x121.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-768x580.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1030px) 100vw, 1030px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mobile DJ party in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dr. Oliver Wang, author of \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.dukeupress.edu/legions-of-boom\">Legions of Boom: Filipino American Mobile DJ Crews in the San Francisco Bay Area\u003c/a>\u003c/em> and a professor of sociology at CSU Long Beach, explains that “the mobile DJ scene that the Piklz’ members got their start in wasn’t an exclusively Filipino phenomenon at all; there were Black, White, Latino and Chinese crews around then too. But the Fil-Am scene flourished above and beyond those other groups because they had distinct advantages coming from an immigrant community with strong social ties and large social networks.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition, Wang says, “Filipino American families have parties for practically any occasion — birthdays, debuts, christenings, graduations, or just plain house/garage parties for the heck of it. Importantly, those parties all wanted music, and that meant that DJs had all these opportunities to find gigs.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time breakdancing became popularized through movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’,\u003c/em> Apollo says, “DJing was already here… there were dances every weekend, and DJ battles and showcases almost every other weekend. That’s how it was when I was growing up around the San Francisco and Daly City area in the early ’80s.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952219\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1163px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1163\" height=\"831\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952219\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg 1163w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-800x572.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-1020x729.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-768x549.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1163px) 100vw, 1163px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Appearing as FM2O (Furious Minds 2 Observe), Qbert, Mix Master Mike and Apollo perform at an ‘eco-rap’ show in San Francisco, circa 1989–1990. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>One of the top mobile DJ crews at that time was Unlimited Sounds. “They were like the biggest group from Daly City, and they were already established,” Apollo says. Many of the crew members were older and attended Jefferson High School. Apollo remembers hanging out at Serra Bowl, becoming friends with Unlimited Sounds and gradually being drawn into the world of DJing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every day after school, I would just hang out at their garage and practice,” he says. “All the equipment was there, the records were all there, the lights, everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo saved his allowance and lunch money to buy his first set of turntables, and formed makeshift DJ crews with his friends. “We would gather our parents’ equipment, like home stereo equipment and gather it all up. I would get my parents’ home stereo system combined with my homies’ parents’ stereo system, combined with my other homie’s house system. And then we would put all the equipment together and we saw we had a DJ group.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo started making mixtapes — he still remembers the first time he had enough records to make an all-hip-hop tape — and eventually became good enough to join Unlimited Sounds in 1985, who at the time had gigs all over the Bay Area. That experience gave him a solid foundation in DJing parties and playing a wide variety of records, but he was more interested in “scratching, juggling, trick-mixing — turntablism before it was even called that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952233\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"401\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952233\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover-160x107.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock City DJs at the famed San Francisco graffiti spot Psycho City, January 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Prior to joining Unlimited Sounds, Apollo had hooked up with another up-and-coming DJ who was becoming known for his pause-tape mixes and obsessive focus on scratching: Michael Anthony Schwartz, a.k.a. Mix Master Mike, a Filipino-German kid who attended Jeffferson, the same high school as Aquino and Apollo. Rather than practice the blends and beat-matching typically used at parties, though, Apollo and Mix Master Mike would “do more scratching or tricks, routines and that type of stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With those bedroom routines, a reimagining of the turntable’s possibilities had begun.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘Oh, Snap — What Did We Just Do?’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike didn’t come up in the mobile DJ scene. His early inspiration was seeing Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay live.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching Jay DJ for DMC and Run, he says, he remembers thinking, “Oh, they’re using records, but they sound more like they’re a full-fledged band, you know? That was just profound to me, that he was using records and rocking the house, \u003cem>with just records\u003c/em>. And that’s when I immediately knew that’s what I wanted to be.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952222\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1732px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952222\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1732\" height=\"1177\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg 1732w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1732px) 100vw, 1732px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike on the subway in Japan, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Not long after Run-DMC brought their Raising Hell tour to a sold-out Oakland Coliseum arena, Apollo and Mike formed an informal DJ crew called Together With Style (not to be confused with the SF graffiti crew of the same name) and held long practice sessions in Apollo’s garage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But with Mike, “we did go hard on scratching and tricks and juggling – which later on turned into turntablism.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Individually, they would take turns on Apollo’s set of turntables. But one day, they decided to work in tandem — a moment that altered the course of DJ history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Apollo remembers it: “Me and Mike were messing around with the turntables and… we’re like, well, let’s just do something together, since we don’t have to wait our turn (to practice). So I grabbed one turntable, and he grabbed the other turntable and we kind of just started making a beat with two records and one mixer. I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, \u003cem>boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom\u003c/em>, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do? That was crazy.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952218\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952218\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"408\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock Steady Crew DJs in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Mike would perfect the two-man routine over a period of several years, “and we just started performing it all over the place at showcases and dances, you know, wherever. People were seeing it and being amazed. We were amazed by it ourselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[pullquote size='large' align='center' citation='DJ Apollo']I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do?” [/pullquote] \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One witness to the early routine was Richard Quitevis, an acquaintance of Mike and Apollo who went by the name DJ Qbert.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Qbert saw it one time and he was amazed by it. He’s like, \u003cem>Oh, what is that?!?\u003c/em>,” Apollo says.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Qbert Enters the Picture\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>DJ Qbert grew up in San Francisco’s Excelsior district. Like Apollo, his first exposure to hip-hop precedes the term itself. He recalls fishing at Pier 39 at the age of 12 and seeing the Fillmore dance crew \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weKkAF9NdCI\">Demons of the Mind\u003c/a>. “There would be all these poppers; at the time they were called strutters. They would be playing this really fast electro music. And it was like, ‘Look at these robot-like guys in shiny little outfits with these silver hats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert was fascinated not only with the vibrant dancers, but the sounds. “I was like, ‘Man, this is crazy. I love it, but where are they getting this music from?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952215\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1371px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952215\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1371\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg 1371w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-800x574.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-1020x732.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-768x551.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1371px) 100vw, 1371px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, Mix Master Mike and Qbert gettin’ up in Bologna, Italy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Qbert remembers early attempts at breakdancing with his friends, who fashioned their own makeshift outfits. But it was the DJ scratch – particularly the skills displayed by Mix Master Ice on UTFO’s 1985 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KE3-IyLsg8\">Leader of the Pack\u003c/a>” – that really drew his interest. “I just started collecting the music, always collecting the music. And that’s what made me become a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day, Qbert was asked to DJ a garage party. “Everybody was about 12, 13, 14, 15, and everybody was breaking in the garage. And we were playing all my records on a big-ass giant box. Like, you open the top and you put the record in, and you just let that play. And the kids were spinning and they couldn’t control themselves. They would spin and they would spin, right into the DJ box, the turntable box. That was my first time being a mobile DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He explains his early attraction to turntables and scratching: “You could manipulate sound by grabbing (the record), moving forward and backward,” he says, imitating a scratch sound. “It was like a toy. A toy that was like a musical instrument. I didn’t even know it was a musical instrument. I was just thinking of it as like, it just sounds crazy. You just pull sound out of the air and move it, like, ‘Oh, what a weird contraption.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eventually, Q joined a mobile DJ crew called Live Style Productions, and came to the attention of Apollo and Mix Master Mike, who remember going to Balboa High School to see him spin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Q, we just knew from around the way,” Apollo says. “We would go to different showcases on the weekends and see him perform. And so we knew about Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952240\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952240\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"407\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with the U.S. Championship trophy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1991, Qbert entered the DMCs, winning the U.S. Championships and advancing all the way to the World Finals in London, where he took 2nd place. Aquino claims Qbert’s technical skills were so advanced, they went over most of the audience’s heads, but Qbert admits he got cocky and didn’t practice before his set: “I was sloppy,” he says. That loss instilled in him the importance of practicing, which he took to with rigorous discipline.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Turntables Might Wobble\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Hip-hop journalist and author Adisa Banjoko, a friend, recalls once being at Qbert’s house and hearing him scratch the rhythms of Rakim’s verses from Eric B. & Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” – using entirely scratched tones to replicate Rakim’s stanzas. “You gotta record that,” Banjoko told Q, who just shrugged and said, “Nah, I do that all the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Apollo and Mike were honing their two-man routine and making beats with the intention of forming a rap crew, with them as producers and DJs. After returning from London with his U.S. title, Qbert introduced Mike and Apollo to a rapper who used to hang out at his house named Nim-FHD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is where it all comes together,” Apollo says. “Me and Mike were making beats, and we always wanted to find a voice for our beats. And so when Qbert introduced us to this rapper, and when me and Mike heard that guy’s voice, Nim’s voice, we were like, ‘Oh man, that’s the voice for our music.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952232\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952232\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875-160x110.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The extended crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo explained his vision to Nim, and they enlisted H2O, another emcee they met through Qbert, who also joined the group. “We told Q, do you want to be a part of the ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd5gFx001qg\">Peter Piper\u003c/a>’ routine? And he was like, overjoyed. Like, ‘Let’s do it. Absolutely, let’s do it.’ So then we’re like… why don’t we become the DJs for this group that will be the first rap group with three DJs and two rappers? And we’ll do all the beats and scratching.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They christened themselves FM2O – an acronym for “Furious Minds To Observe” — the first iteration of what would become the Invisibl Skratch Piklz. As Mike says, “it was definitely a meant-to-be moment, when I hooked up with Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The group was managed by Aquino, who had left Unlimited Sounds and started throwing parties while trying to establish an independent hip-hop label, Ace Beat. While working on a demo tape, FM2O played local venues and music industry showcases like the Gavin Convention and New Music Seminar. In 1992, they appeared at the Omni in Oakland on a bill with Banjoko’s crew, Freedom T.R.O.O.P. 187, plus Organized Konfusion, Gangstarr and headliner Body Count. Epic as that lineup is, Apollo, Mike and Qbert’s orchestrated turntable segment during FM2O’s set was the absolute showstopper.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>FM2O’s music was slightly ahead of its time; in the early ’90s, “alternative hip-hop” hadn’t yet established itself in the mainstream. No hip-hop group had ever featured three DJs, all of them scratch fanatics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Aquino tried unsuccessfully to secure FM2O a label deal, the DJs made moves in the battle scene.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952242\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952242\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike with his DMC Legend jacket at The Midway in San Francisco, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Major World Titles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s second-place 1991 DMC finish earned him props from Clark Kent, a well-respected New York DJ and producer of the New Music Seminar DJ Battle for World Supremacy. Kent asked Qbert to judge the 1992 battle alongside NYC heavyweights like EPMD’s DJ Scratch and Gangstarr’s DJ Premier. Mix Master Mike, meanwhile, entered as a contestant – and ended up winning the battle. (Ironically, Aquino says, instead of practicing before his routine, Mike had stayed up all night.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLRprNA_GSk\">Video of the battle\u003c/a> – during which Mike performs eight different routines, besting Japan’s DJ Honda in the final showdown before taking on defending champ Supreme in a challenge match – confirms he was on a mission to crush all competition. He doubles up Word of Mouth’s “King Kut” with blinding speed and finesse, blends Schooly D and Flavor Flav phrases to dis “sucker DJs,” slows down the records to juggle entirely new beats, deconstructs the wax into a series of melodic tones, and maintains a sense of rhythmic mastery that’s chaotic and jarring but never veers out of control. Boisterous shouts from the crowd testify to Mike’s determined brilliance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billed as the Rocksteady DJs (with the blessing of Bronx B-boy legend Crazy Legs, from the Rock Steady Crew), Qbert, Mike and Apollo won the DMCs that same year with the “Peter Piper” routine. The following year, with DJ Apollo unavailable while touring as the Souls of Mischief’s DJ, Mike and Qbert, billed as the Dream Team, again won the DMC World Championship. Mike still remembers the anticipation and energy that went into the preparations for the battle, along with the ginseng they imbibed before their set “like Chinese martial arts masters.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952237\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"397\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952237\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e-160x106.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike, pictured at center: ‘It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know?’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These victories were culturally significant. Not only had no West Coast DJ ever been crowned a World Champion before, but no Filipino DJ had ever placed that high in a major competition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To explain just how significant, it’s necessary to understand the evolution of the DJ artform.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first development, playing “break” sections of records (known as breakbeats), was initially a clumsy needle-drop technique originated by hip-hop pioneer Kool Herc. Grandmaster Flash refined the DJ vocabulary with backspinning, cueing, cutting, punch phrasing, quick-mixing and reading the record like a clock. Grand Wizzard Theodore developed the basic scratch. Steve Dee invented the beat-juggle. But no DJ was doing synchronized team routines that reimagined the turntables as individual instruments prior to the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That was an awesome thing,” Mike says. “It just started from a thought. The collective team, it was like it was a unit. We all had the same aspirations and goals of doing things people had never, ever seen or heard before. And it just spawned this whole movement. And it’s just something that we love to do. It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know? And that was the beauty of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952220\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952220\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1715\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-800x536.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1020x683.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-768x515.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1536x1029.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-2048x1372.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1920x1286.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sporting championship jackets in Tokyo, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Their succession of three major titles in two years elevated the DJ artform and raised the bar for battles. Teams of three or more DJs would soon proliferate throughout the DJ universe, and battle routines became more well-rounded, with emphasis on scratching, beat-juggling, and musicality or rhythmic coherence, as well as sheer technical ability.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It also led to a backlash of sorts: Mike confirms that after dominating for three years in a row, his crew was politely asked to retire from the DMC competition. He characterizes the request as a “giving other people a chance to win type deal.” But to him and his other Bay Area battlers, “We felt like it wasn’t fair to us because we got a lot in the tank. Let’s go. Keep going. See how far we can go… we were ready to defend the next year. But unfortunately they wanted to make us judges.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turned out, stepping away from the competitive battle scene proved to be a blessing in disguise. “After we stopped battling,” Mike says, “I was like, okay, what’s next? We’re going to make records now. I’m gonna become a full fledged artist, you know? I don’t want to be this DJ dude. I don’t want to be a DJ guy that’s playing other people’s records standing up there. We’ve done that already. I’m going to get in the studio and be a producer, and I’m going to make music out of this whole thing, like, springboard into making original compositions. And so that’s what I’m doing, to this day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952238\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952238\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1430\" height=\"1039\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-800x581.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-1020x741.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-768x558.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Hawaii, 1996. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But first, the crew needed a new name. During their time DJing for FM2O, the three DJs were collectively known as Shadow of the Prophet, or simply, The Shadow. A chance encounter with an early-career DJ Shadow – who apologetically offered to change his name – led to Qbert graciously telling him that he could keep the name “Shadow,” and that he’d change his group’s name instead. “Rocksteady DJs” and “The Dream Team” were one-offs, for the most part. They needed something catchy that also reflected who they were.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day it came to them. As Qbert recounts, “We was on one, and we were laughing and laughing. And I think Mix Master Mike said, “Why don’t we be called the Invisible Pickles? We were just cracking up and we were thinking about, you know, an invisible pickle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day, Qbert got a call from his pal Lou Quintanilla, a.k.a. DJ Disk. “And he said, ‘How about Invisible Scratch Pickles?’ I was like, that kind of sounds dope.” (Though it may sound abstract, the name is rooted in a concrete concept: the turntable as an “invisible instrument” that could be almost any instrument – drums, guitar, vocals, anything.) The crew’s offbeat sense of humor reflected in their new name had long been evident; in 1992, they released \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em>, one of the first DJ tool records specifically designed for scratching, officially credited to the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards on the Dirt Style label. In later years they would put out various releases under an affiliate record label that they named Galactic Butt Hair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Before settling on the new name, though, they ran it by a younger DJ who was asked to join the crew — Jonathan Cruz, a.k.a. DJ Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952228\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952228\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1193\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1536x1042.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Electro and the Art of the Quick Mix\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Growing up in Daly City, Shortkut caught the DJ bug thanks to a Filipino mobile crew who played his 6th grade dance. He started DJing at age 13, after the local Filipino sound system culture had cycled through disco, metal, and New Wave, before arriving at hip-hop, freestyle and Miami bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of Shortkut’s first exposures to a DJ battle took place in a large hall.“There would be about four to six sound systems separately set up in the one room with their own individual sound systems. Each group would get about like 20 minutes to do their thing, and then at the end of the night, whoever won. The word got out that group won, and then that’s who everyone wanted to book for school dances or birthday parties.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortkut joined a crew called Just 2 Hype, which played freestyle, Miami bass and 808-laced Mantronix singles. “That’s why I think the Bay Area is specifically more scratch-DJ based,” he says, “because everyone scratched to fast beats, all the classic electro stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He also worked on perfecting the art of the quick-mix, changing up the record every four or eight bars. But records like DJ Jazzy Jeff’s “Live At Union Square” drew him into the world of scratch-mixing. “When I first started scratching, I just listened to records, basically. All the early records I used to buy, I would just try to copy what I heard on record.”\u003cbr>\nIn the late ’80s and early ’90s, he says, “I really got into embracing hip-hop” – catching up with records that hadn’t been hugely popular in the Filipino scene, and becoming further enthralled with scratching and beat-juggling. “That’s when I was first hearing about Qbert and Apollo and Mix Master Mike,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952223\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1742px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1742\" height=\"1190\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952223\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg 1742w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-800x546.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1536x1049.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1742px) 100vw, 1742px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">First trip to Japan, 1993. At far left is B-boy and dancer Richard Colón, a.k.a. Crazy Legs from the Rock Steady Crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back then, Apollo was the big name, being from Unlimited Sounds. “He was the party rocker. But he was kind of the B-boy out of all the Filipino guys I knew.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As he attempted to build his DJ skills, Shortkut remembers listening to cassette tapes of Qbert scratching and mixing. Initially, he had only basic equipment, and used belt-driven turntables. “I got better once I got to direct-drives because I already knew how to handle it and have a certain feel to it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert winning the U.S. DMC Championship in 1991 was huge, he says. “We didn’t really have any role models, as a Filipino kid.” He took the win as validation – and inspiration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I lived about five minutes from Q’s house,” he says. “I used to go to Q’s house with the guy who taught me how to DJ. We both cold-called Q because we knew he was the one who had all the battle videos. So we would go to his house and dub the videos and while they were dubbing, me and Q would scratch.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During this time, Shortkut says, Mike had moved to Sacramento, and Apollo was DJing for Branford Marsalis, “so I would hook up with Q and Disk a lot.” Q used to bring Shortkut and Disk along when he opened up shows in the Bay – affording the younger DJs valuable stage experience. Shortkut, Mike, and Q eventually formed a crew briefly called the Turntable Dragons, pre-ISP. Then, in 1993, Shortkut, Mike, and Q played a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935467/the-bomb-magazine-label-san-francisco-turntablism-djs\">Bomb Hip-Hop\u003c/a> Party – possibly the first time they had been billed as the Invisibl Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952239\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 250px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952239\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/invisblskratchp_002-h.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"250\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The five-man crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘Everyone That Worked There Was Filipino’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Dave Paul, publisher of \u003cem>Bomb Hip Hop Magazine\u003c/em>, coincidentally also began as a mobile DJ in 1984 with a crew called Midnight Connections. He tells a funny story about working an after-school job for Chevron. “I wasn’t that great. So they moved me from, like, the main Chevron on Geary Street over to one on California Street. And everyone that worked there was Filipino. Turned out everyone that worked there was also a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Paul knew of Apollo from Unlimited Sounds, and had seen Qbert perform a famous “Mary Had A Little Lamb” routine during a San Jose battle around 1989 or 1990. “That really got his name out,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During the annual Gavin Convention in San Francisco, Bomb Hip Hop magazine would present live performance showcases. Paul booked the Piklz on multiple occasions, beginning in 1992, when they were still called the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Paul, the vibe of those early performances “was always sort of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDLzGtQmMyw\">don’t-give-a-fuck style\u003c/a>. Like, things didn’t have to be clean. They were just really raw. And it was just ill. They were doing stuff that no one else was doing at the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_10345320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-10345320\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ QBert. \u003ccite>(Thud Rumble)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>After releasing a now-legendary compilation tape that featured Qbert along with a Canadian MC named Madchild, as well as local underground artists like Homeless Derelix, Blackalicious, Bored Stiff, and Mystik Journeymen, Bomb Hip Hop became a record label in 1995 with the release of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937489/best-bay-area-turntablism-scratch-dj-albums\">\u003cem>Return of the DJ Vol. 1\u003c/em>\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That record essentially started the movement of turntablism as a musical genre. The Skratch Piklz (at that time, Qbert, Shortkut and Disk) were featured on “Invasion of the Octopus People,” while Mix Master Mike contributed his first official solo production, “Terrorwrist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Return of the DJ \u003c/em>evolved into a compilation series spanning multiple volumes, and inspired numerous others, like Om Records’ \u003cem>Deep Concentration\u003c/em> and Ubiquity’s \u003cem>Audio Alchemy\u003c/em> compilations. Asphodel, an alternative label known for ultra-underground somnolent, ambient, droney electronic music, signed the Skratch Piklz to a deal, which resulted in 1996’s single “Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klamz Uv Deth,” which featured Qbert, Shortkut, and Mix Master Mike.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952246\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1938px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952246\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1938\" height=\"1882\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg 1938w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-800x777.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1020x991.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-160x155.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-768x746.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1536x1492.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1920x1865.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1938px) 100vw, 1938px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Clamz Uv Deth,’ 1997. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“A very strange thing about that (single) is, I had just invented scratch music,” Qbert says. “Which is this thing where every sound is scratched. Drums are scratched, the hi-hats are scratched, the snare and vocals are scratched, the chords, every single thing is scratched! No matter what is in there. So that was tracked out — like, every track was off the turntables, making a complete scratch song.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turntablism spread quickly through San Francisco’s progressive club scene in the mid-’90s. Mark Herlihy’s art/performance collective Future Primitive established itself as an avant garde music label with a live recording of Shortkut and Cut Chemist at Cat’s Alley, on Folsom Street. An outer Tenderloin hole in the wall, Deco, became a headquarters for unfiltered, ultra-creative DJ expression in its basement, via “Many Styles” nights curated by Apollo. Qbert was part of the groundbreaking alternative hip-hop group Dr. Octagon along with producer Dan the Automator and MC Kool Keith, who recorded an indie classic that got re-released nationally by Dreamworks. To this day, Qbert’s scratch solo on Dr. Octagon’s “Earth People” stands out as a particular flashpoint, the turntable equivalent, perhaps, of the guitar solos on “Hotel California” or “Comfortably Numb.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Needless to say, it’s not an empty boast when Mix Master Mike says he and the Skratch Piklz “pretty much created this genre of music.” No one was doing it before them, and many followed in their footsteps. Locally, the Bullet Proof Scratch Hamsters (aka the Space Travelers), Supernatural Turntable Artists, and the Oakland Faders all scratched and juggled. Live bands incorporating turntablists included Live Human (DJ Quest) and Soulstice (Mei-Lwun). New York’s X-Ecutioners were probably ISP’s closest counterparts nationally, having formed in 1989. But despite their turntable innovations, even they weren’t performing or recording as a \u003cem>band\u003c/em> until after the Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952245\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952245\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back when they were known as the X-Men, the X-Ecutioners faced off against the Piklz in a landmark 1996 battle in New York’s Manhattan Center – a contest so epic, it’s listed among \u003cem>Mixmag\u003c/em>’s \u003ca href=\"https://mixmag.net/feature/the-10-best-dj-scratch-battles-of-all-time\">Top 10 DJ Scratch Battles of All Time\u003c/a>. X-Ecutioners member and DJ historian Rob Swift says Qbert first came on his radar in 1991, when he beat X-Ecutioners founder Steve Dee to win the US DMC Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We thought he was Hawaiian,” Swift says, because Qbert appeared to be wearing a lei in the battle video. “We didn’t know that he was this Filipino DJ that came out of this Filipino community of DJs in the Bay Area. We didn’t know that there \u003cem>were\u003c/em> DJs out there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swift later entered the 1991 New Music Seminar battle, where Qbert was a judge; the two exchanged numbers and began calling each other and exchanging videos regularly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When rappers began increasingly excluding the DJ throughout the ’90s, he says he and Qbert would discuss what to do about it., “We would both be like, ‘You’ve got these rappers (not respecting the DJ). Fuck them, and we’re going to create our own DJ scene. If the music industry is going to turn their backs on DJing, we need to figure out a way to just create our own scene.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“And,” he adds, “that’s exactly what we did.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952225\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952225\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1166\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-800x530.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1020x676.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-768x509.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1536x1018.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Lebanon. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Enter the ITF — and D-Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When the Pilkz battled the X-Ecutioners, it was as much about gaining respect for turntable culture as it was about individual bragging rights. Though the court of public opinion is still split on who won, the battle put a spotlight on both crews. As Swift says, “We started strategizing ways to book our own tours and create all-DJ competitions (like) the ITF, the International Turntablist Federation,” who organized the historic battle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Founded by Alex Aquino with help from Shortkut, the ITF was established in 1995 and stayed active until 2005. It was intended as a cultural organization, and as somewhat of a critique of the DMC, which had become the only major DJ competition, following the demise of the New Music Seminar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Without the DMC,” Aquino says, “we wouldn’t have this world stage for the guys to be on. But after Q lost that first battle, we were like, something has to change.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Specifically, the criteria. “And so, we were like, let’s do our own battle. Let’s have real turntablists and DJs judge it, like a New Music Seminar, but instead of just the one-on-one battle, the advancement class for the belt, let’s do a scratching category. Let’s do a beat-juggling category. And let’s do a team category. And that’s how we started out.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952211\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1366px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952211\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1366\" height=\"1834\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg 1366w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-800x1074.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1020x1369.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-160x215.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-768x1031.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1144x1536.jpg 1144w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1366px) 100vw, 1366px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a Japanese magazine, date unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJs like Vin Roc, Babu, Craze, and A-Trak all won ITF titles, as did teams like the Allies and Beat Junkies. The ITF succeeded in giving turntablists a visible platform to showcase their skills and in further popularizing the artform in the U.S. and internationally. (In 1999, the DMC would add a team category, and the organization currently rotates additional categories, including Scratch, Portablist, and Beat Juggling.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After \u003cem>Return of the DJ\u003c/em>’s “Octopus People,” with Apollo unavailable and Mix Master Mike pursuing a solo career, the Skratch Piklz needed new blood. For the next few years, ISP membership became somewhat fluid, swelling and contracting as new members joined for a while, before going off to do other projects. DJ Disk, DJ Flare, Canadian teenage prodigy A-Trak, and former Thud Rumble label manager Ritche Desuasido, a.k.a. Yogafrog, were all ISP members at one time or another, along with Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, Beat Junkies member Dave Cuasito, a.k.a. D-Styles, joined the Piklz and became a linchpin for the group; Aquino calls him “the hidden master.” Though not as flashy or famous as Qbert, he’s well-respected in turntablist circles and has helped focus the Pilkz on compositional elements in their music while also being able to scratch, cut and juggle at a high level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Born in the Philippines, D-Styles grew up in San Jose. Like the other Piklz, he was exposed to hip-hop through breaking and its accompanying soundtrack. “I would hear the songs that they were playing, but then they would scratch certain words and certain parts of that song. And so I was always curious how they were doing it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952229\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952229\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1168\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-800x531.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1020x677.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1536x1020.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Grandmaster DXT and Qbert. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>His answer came when he saw Grandmixer DST (now known as DXT)’s scratch segment on Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit.” After getting a basic Realistic mixer for his birthday, he, too, joined a mobile DJ crew (Sound City), who pooled their equipment like so many others – and spent their meager proceeds on post-gig Denny’s meals. After taking part in typical mobile battles with crews exchanging 20-minute sets, he discovered there was a battle specifically for scratch DJs, and competed in the 1993 DMC.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, he moved to San Francisco to attend college, but what he really wanted was to pursue music. He was already familiar with Mike, Qbert and Shortkut from the battle scene, and from hanging out on Tuesday night at Deco, a small speakeasy-style jazz bar with open turntables in the basement.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“One strange night, I got a phone call on my answering machine and it was Yogafrog and Q, and they were like, ‘Hey, man’ – I don’t know if they were drunk or what – but they were like, ‘we need to talk, man. We think we should all come together and form a crew.” They met up and talked, and soon after, he was asked to officially join the group.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles stoic demeanor compliments the other Piklz, yet beneath his focused concentration lies a punk rock attitude that aligns with Qbert’s philosophy that the only rule is there are no rules. Likewise, his turntable-composition approach balances the others’ battle-DJ backgrounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952235\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 636px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952235\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"636\" height=\"474\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png 636w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs-160x119.png 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 636px) 100vw, 636px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut and A-Trak at Qbert’s place, 1997. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“As far as a turntable composer, I feel like we definitely embrace the more musical side of it, and less technical,” he says. “For the battle DJs, they really try to spray like a Uzi, you know what I mean? And just get off a bunch of power stuff and try to wow the the crowd and the judges. For music, it’s more about the long-term thing. We want to make music that’s timeless. And it’s not based off of a five-minute routine.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With the core Piklz now set with Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles, Mix Master Mike – who remained affiliated with the crew – says, “I felt like we had the perfect stew. Everyone had their own style, their own identity.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Mike began putting together his first solo album, \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, which he envisioned as “not an underground album (but) a worldwide release.” He imagined himself as a sonic transducer, attracting and reshaping matter into different forms. He drew on inspirations like Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, early Public Enemy, Thelonious Monk, Rage Against the Machine and Ennio Morricone. He contemplated the subtlety of silence, of ghost notes and pregnant pauses. And then he went out and made an album with booming, deafening drums and thumping bass on nearly every track.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I focused on the drums first,” Mike says. “I wanted to make sure those drums were hitting really hard.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952249\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952249\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg 1000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-800x787.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-160x157.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-768x756.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike’s ‘Anti-Theft Device,’ 1998. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, the found sounds and quirky vocal samples (“NASA maintains this is \u003cem>not\u003c/em> Colonel Blaha’s voice”) often present on DJ mix tapes resurface often, along with boom-bap beats and scratched phrases, instruments and sound effects. There are elements of intoxicated or altered reality, and bug-out moments that suggest turboized vocoders spouting underwater propellers, or seemingly random musical sample generators harnessing infinite libraries of sound, from raga to reggae to rock.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“At the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s about spearheading the evolution of the battle DJ – as artist, composer, tastemaker.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Mike was the first Pikl to make a solo album, Qbert crafted an especially ambitious concept for his first official solo debut. As Mike tells it, he had some extra tracks left over, which he gave to Qbert. “And he fuckin’, just like, went crazy on those beats. And then, yeah. It became \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952250\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952250\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566-160x160.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert’s ‘Wave Twisters,’ 1998. The album spawned a cult-classic 2001 animated film of the same name. \u003ccite>(Galactic Butt Hair Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Wave Twisters, the Beasties and Beyond\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> holds the rare distinction of being a soundtrack around which a movie was later designed. The album received extremely positive reviews, making many music critics’ year-end lists. To this day, it’s regarded as one of the best turntablism albums of all time. Tracks like “Destination: Quasar 16.33.45.78” took ISP battle routines to new levels, imagining a battle in inner space between a heroic dental hygienist and the minions of a villain named Lord Ook. The track revels in sci-fi tropes, with vocal cues like “Attention, starship!” coloring the scratched, transformed and cut-up audio landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Qbert, \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> was willed into existence. “I intentionally foresaw it because in the back of my head, I was like, I’m gonna make every song like a storyline. It’s going to be a thing. And somebody’s going to animate this. And then out of nowhere, the universe made it all work.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13937489']Meanwhile, Mix Master Mike was setting his own intentions – around becoming a member of the Beastie Boys. A longtime fan of their music, he says, “even before I met them, I always thought I was the fourth Beastie, and I was the missing element.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After meeting the Beasties’ MCA during a Rock Steady Crew anniversary in 1996, Mike took an unusual route to make his dreams come true. “I went up to MCA and introduced myself,” he recalls. “He knew who I was through all the competitions and the battles, and we exchanged phone numbers and went back home. And late at night, I would just leave these scratch messages on his answering machine. Two, three in the morning, just leaving these scratches on his machine, hoping that these transmissions would penetrate. Fortunately they did. \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#mix-master-mike-becomes-the-beastie-boys-dj\">And the rest is history\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952251\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952251\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1611\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-800x503.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1020x642.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-768x483.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1536x967.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-2048x1289.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1920x1208.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L-R) Mixmaster Mike, Mike Diamond, Adam ‘MCA’ Yauch, and Adam ‘Ad-Rock’ Horovitz of The Beastie Boys attend the MTV Europe Music Awards 2004 at Tor di Valle Nov. 18, 2004 in Rome, Italy. \u003ccite>(Bruno Vincent/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Mike joined the Beasties in time for 1998’s \u003cem>Hello Nasty\u003c/em> album, remaining part of the group until MCA died of cancer in 2012 and the Beastie Boys disbanded. “So at the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s all about power of intention, right? And my intention was to get in the band or work with the band.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the ’90s drew to a close, the Piklz weren’t quite done. They produced Skratchcon 2000, a scratching convention, bringing together pioneering masters and acolytes of DJ scratch music. “That was our old manager, Yogafrog,” Qbert says. “His idea to put on a convention called Scratchcon, that was a genius idea of his, and we should do a Part II. We got all the best, most popular scratchers on the planet to come through. It was huge. Steve Dee was there, even Aladdin, all the X-Ecutioners, everybody. It was amazing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952252\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952252\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"983\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-800x524.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-1020x668.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-768x503.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Shortkut, D-Styles, Mix Master Mike, Yogafrog and QBert in QBert’s garage in the Excelsior District of San Francisco, 1998. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia /The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images))\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Skratchcon drew fans from all over the country, in addition to current and historic scratch DJs,for live showcases and demonstrations like DJ Radar’s introduction of scratch notation. The convention culminated with a live concert at the Fillmore Auditorium, billed at the time as the ISP’s last official performance. To this day, it stands as one of the highpoints of a decade overflowing with revolutionary developments in hip-hop DJ culture, which saw the Invisibl Skratch Piklz make history and become iconic representatives of turntablism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Mix Master Mike says, “There is no ceiling to this. No, it’s whatever you think about is whatever you create and whatever you can apply.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n","stats":{"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"hasAudio":false,"hasPolis":false,"wordCount":8314,"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"paragraphCount":121},"modified":1708071724,"excerpt":"A comprehensive history of the pioneering DJ crew, from Daly City garage parties to world domination.","headData":{"twImgId":"","twTitle":"","ogTitle":"","ogImgId":"","twDescription":"","description":"A comprehensive history of the pioneering DJ crew, from Daly City garage parties to world domination.","title":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map | KQED","ogDescription":"","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"How The Invisibl Skratch Piklz Put San Francisco Turntablism on the DJ Map","datePublished":"2024-02-14T08:53:00-08:00","dateModified":"2024-02-16T00:22:04-08:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"invisibl-skratch-piklz-filipino-djs-daly-city-san-francisco-turntablism-history","status":"publish","templateType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","featuredImageType":"standard","sticky":false,"articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13952208/invisibl-skratch-piklz-filipino-djs-daly-city-san-francisco-turntablism-history","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>Editor’s note\u003c/strong>: This story is part of \u003c/em>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">That’s My Word\u003c/a>\u003cem>, KQED’s story series on \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/\">Bay Area hip-hop\u003c/a> history.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On a recent Friday night in San Francisco, a couple thousand fans of DJ culture crammed into the cavernous main room of a nightclub in Hunters Point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside The Midway, it was elbow room-only from the stage to the back patio; many of those in the crowd were DJs themselves. The scene recalled the late ’90s-early 2000s glory days of the Bay Area, when turntablism seemed destined to become the Next Big Thing, and DJ nights dominated SF’s club scene. No one was there to dance; it wasn’t that kind of party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937762\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937762\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"A person wearing a baseball cap stands at a table under fluorescent lighting.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-28-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert performs with Invisibl Skratch Piklz during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The occasion was the DMC World Championship DJ Battle Finals, with some of the best DJs in the world competing against each other. But there was another attraction too: live showcases by the Invisibl Skratch Piklz and Mix Master Mike, the legendary DJs who transformed the Bay Area into a turntablist Mecca during a seminal era for local hip-hop. DMC event organizer Christie Zee put the proceedings into their proper context: “You can’t have a battle in the Bay without the Skratch Piklz.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As midnight approached, the lights dimmed, and the Piklz – Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles – were announced to cheers that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. The Piklz opened with the 2015 ISP track “Fresh Out of FVCKs,” with its ominous electric organ melody that transitions into repeating melodic chords. A snare drum beat came in, followed by a rhythmically scratched snippet of a stuttering vocal phrase. The electric organ chords shifted into a chopped melody as the snare dropped out, then returned. And that’s all before the mind-bending scratch solos that followed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Piklz proceeded to display their musicality, keeping their technical acumen within the groove pocket with synchronized timing. As is customary with the Piklz, each played the part of a specific instrumentalist: D-Styles as the keyboardist, Shortkut as the drummer, and Qbert as the scratch soloist.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952244\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952244\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM_DJ_mixer_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2275-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>A live version of “Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts” – a song from D-Styles’ 2019 album \u003cem>Noises In the Right Order\u003c/em> – and several unreleased ISP songs showed that \u003ca href=\"https://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/projects/jazzglossary/g/ghost_note.html\">ghost notes\u003c/a> aren’t just associated with jazz music. The turntable trio used the spaces between to impart a sense of presence and feel, a minimalist approach that allowed their scratches, cuts and juggles to resonate with maximum impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This would have been a hard act to follow for anyone but Mix Master Mike. The ISP co-founder, who’s been a solo artist since 1995 or so, has a gigantic stage presence and skills to match. A one-man musical blender, MMM unleashed a maelstrom of sonic fury, with bone-crunching drums, an entire range of musical and vocal phrases, and precise turntable cuts that deconstructed the individual pieces of a live performance — only to reconstruct all the fragments into an emotionally-thrilling pastiche. After his set, when Mike was celebrated with a Lifetime Achievement Award, the honor was clearly well-deserved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Invisible Skratch Piklz were celebrating, too – 2023 marks their 30th anniversary – and it’s safe to say no Bay Area crew has done more to advance the DJ artform. Along with New York’s X-Ecutioners and LA’s Beat Junkies, ISP have defined the term turntablist, carving out a cultural niche that rests on a hip-hop foundation but exists in its own space.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13937759\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13937759\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg\" alt=\"People stand in a crowd leaning on a barrier indoors.\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/11/231103-DMCBattle-13-BL-KQED-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A crowd watches finalists compete during the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Beth LaBerge/KQED)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Piklz have counted many firsts. As hip-hop’s relationship with the DJ has flipped from essential to inconsequential, they’ve maintained the DJ tradition for future generations, and extended its global reach. Over the past four decades, they’ve gone from students of the scratch to wizened masters of turntable music.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And like most cultural icons, their backstory is involved, multilayered and fascinating.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952236\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1528px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952236\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1528\" height=\"1032\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_.jpg 1528w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-800x540.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-1020x689.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-160x108.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/q.sta_-768x519.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1528px) 100vw, 1528px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A young Qbert at a community hall mobile DJ dance party. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The Garage Party Era\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>The Invisibl Skratch Piklz story begins in what former ISP manager Alex Aquino calls the “pre-hip-hop era” of the late ’70s-early ’80s, when youth-oriented street dance intersected with pioneering mobile DJ crews and a Filipino-American tradition of garage parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This was before breakdancing,” Aquino says. He recalls being 6 or 7 and seeing strutters, poppers and elements of DJ culture – including the Filipino mobile DJ crews who established a scene built around vinyl records, large stereo systems and frequent dance parties.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of those Filipino DJs was Apollo Novicio, a.k.a. DJ Apollo, a founding member of ISP who spent his early childhood roaming around the Mission District. By the time he reached middle school, his family had relocated to Daly City – where he likely attended some of the same parties as Aquino. “Back in the day, they’d have garage parties and there would be a DJ in the corner of the garage, set up on a washing machine and dryer and stuff like that. And at the parties, they would have popping and locking circles. Strutting, popping and locking. Breakdancing wasn’t even here yet, really. This was, I’d say, early ’80s, and that was pretty much my first exposure to the DJing and dancing element of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952292\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1004px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1004\" height=\"674\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952292\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty.png 1004w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-800x537.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-160x107.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobiledjparty-768x516.png 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1004px) 100vw, 1004px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Setup for a typical mobile DJ party in the early 1990s. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1982, Aquino remembers, a New York transplant named Oscar Sop had introduced B-boying and fat laces to the neighborhood, becoming one of the Bay Area’s first breakdancers. Meanwhile, the DJ crews were becoming more professional, and getting hired for weddings, quinceaneras, traditional Filipino celebrations and the occasional school dance party.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo recalls “doing the strutting, popping, locking thing before B-boying got here.” Back then, “I didn’t even know it was hip-hop. I was such a young age. I’m like, just doing it and like, later on find out, oh, this is a hip-hop culture.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition to dancing being popular among Filipino youth, he remembers DJ groups proliferating at local high schools. “It was just kind of like the thing to do,” he says. “All the kids would form DJ groups.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I don’t know how to explain (why), but there was a lot of Filipino mobile disc jockey groups,” says DJ Apollo. ”Back in the seventies, my older brothers and sisters, they used to collect music and listen to music. Everybody had to go to the record store and buy vinyl.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952212\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1030px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952212\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1030\" height=\"778\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty.jpg 1030w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-800x604.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-1020x770.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-160x121.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.mobileDJparty-768x580.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1030px) 100vw, 1030px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A mobile DJ party in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dr. Oliver Wang, author of \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.dukeupress.edu/legions-of-boom\">Legions of Boom: Filipino American Mobile DJ Crews in the San Francisco Bay Area\u003c/a>\u003c/em> and a professor of sociology at CSU Long Beach, explains that “the mobile DJ scene that the Piklz’ members got their start in wasn’t an exclusively Filipino phenomenon at all; there were Black, White, Latino and Chinese crews around then too. But the Fil-Am scene flourished above and beyond those other groups because they had distinct advantages coming from an immigrant community with strong social ties and large social networks.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In addition, Wang says, “Filipino American families have parties for practically any occasion — birthdays, debuts, christenings, graduations, or just plain house/garage parties for the heck of it. Importantly, those parties all wanted music, and that meant that DJs had all these opportunities to find gigs.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By the time breakdancing became popularized through movies like \u003cem>Beat Street\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Breakin’,\u003c/em> Apollo says, “DJing was already here… there were dances every weekend, and DJ battles and showcases almost every other weekend. That’s how it was when I was growing up around the San Francisco and Daly City area in the early ’80s.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952219\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1163px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1163\" height=\"831\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952219\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs.jpg 1163w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-800x572.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-1020x729.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-160x114.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/rscdjs-768x549.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1163px) 100vw, 1163px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Appearing as FM2O (Furious Minds 2 Observe), Qbert, Mix Master Mike and Apollo perform at an ‘eco-rap’ show in San Francisco, circa 1989–1990. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>One of the top mobile DJ crews at that time was Unlimited Sounds. “They were like the biggest group from Daly City, and they were already established,” Apollo says. Many of the crew members were older and attended Jefferson High School. Apollo remembers hanging out at Serra Bowl, becoming friends with Unlimited Sounds and gradually being drawn into the world of DJing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Every day after school, I would just hang out at their garage and practice,” he says. “All the equipment was there, the records were all there, the lights, everything.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo saved his allowance and lunch money to buy his first set of turntables, and formed makeshift DJ crews with his friends. “We would gather our parents’ equipment, like home stereo equipment and gather it all up. I would get my parents’ home stereo system combined with my homies’ parents’ stereo system, combined with my other homie’s house system. And then we would put all the equipment together and we saw we had a DJ group.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apollo started making mixtapes — he still remembers the first time he had enough records to make an all-hip-hop tape — and eventually became good enough to join Unlimited Sounds in 1985, who at the time had gigs all over the Bay Area. That experience gave him a solid foundation in DJing parties and playing a wide variety of records, but he was more interested in “scratching, juggling, trick-mixing — turntablism before it was even called that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952233\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"401\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952233\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover.jpeg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/RSC-DJs-Psycho-City-Cover-160x107.jpeg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock City DJs at the famed San Francisco graffiti spot Psycho City, January 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Prior to joining Unlimited Sounds, Apollo had hooked up with another up-and-coming DJ who was becoming known for his pause-tape mixes and obsessive focus on scratching: Michael Anthony Schwartz, a.k.a. Mix Master Mike, a Filipino-German kid who attended Jeffferson, the same high school as Aquino and Apollo. Rather than practice the blends and beat-matching typically used at parties, though, Apollo and Mix Master Mike would “do more scratching or tricks, routines and that type of stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With those bedroom routines, a reimagining of the turntable’s possibilities had begun.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>‘Oh, Snap — What Did We Just Do?’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Mix Master Mike didn’t come up in the mobile DJ scene. His early inspiration was seeing Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay live.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watching Jay DJ for DMC and Run, he says, he remembers thinking, “Oh, they’re using records, but they sound more like they’re a full-fledged band, you know? That was just profound to me, that he was using records and rocking the house, \u003cem>with just records\u003c/em>. And that’s when I immediately knew that’s what I wanted to be.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952222\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1732px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952222\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1732\" height=\"1177\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway.jpg 1732w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-800x544.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1020x693.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-768x522.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.MMM_.japan_.subway-1536x1044.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1732px) 100vw, 1732px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike on the subway in Japan, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Not long after Run-DMC brought their Raising Hell tour to a sold-out Oakland Coliseum arena, Apollo and Mike formed an informal DJ crew called Together With Style (not to be confused with the SF graffiti crew of the same name) and held long practice sessions in Apollo’s garage.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But with Mike, “we did go hard on scratching and tricks and juggling – which later on turned into turntablism.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Individually, they would take turns on Apollo’s set of turntables. But one day, they decided to work in tandem — a moment that altered the course of DJ history.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Apollo remembers it: “Me and Mike were messing around with the turntables and… we’re like, well, let’s just do something together, since we don’t have to wait our turn (to practice). So I grabbed one turntable, and he grabbed the other turntable and we kind of just started making a beat with two records and one mixer. I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, \u003cem>boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom\u003c/em>, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do? That was crazy.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952218\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952218\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"408\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/10423_136960922731_697132731_2526758_2429020_n-160x108.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Rock Steady Crew DJs in 1991. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo and Mike would perfect the two-man routine over a period of several years, “and we just started performing it all over the place at showcases and dances, you know, wherever. People were seeing it and being amazed. We were amazed by it ourselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"I got the bass kick and he grabbed the snare and we just started making a beat like, boom, cha, boom boom boom cha, boom boom, you know? And then we’re just like, ‘Oh, snap, what did we just do?” ","name":"pullquote","attributes":{"named":{"size":"large","align":"center","citation":"DJ Apollo","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One witness to the early routine was Richard Quitevis, an acquaintance of Mike and Apollo who went by the name DJ Qbert.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Qbert saw it one time and he was amazed by it. He’s like, \u003cem>Oh, what is that?!?\u003c/em>,” Apollo says.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Qbert Enters the Picture\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>DJ Qbert grew up in San Francisco’s Excelsior district. Like Apollo, his first exposure to hip-hop precedes the term itself. He recalls fishing at Pier 39 at the age of 12 and seeing the Fillmore dance crew \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weKkAF9NdCI\">Demons of the Mind\u003c/a>. “There would be all these poppers; at the time they were called strutters. They would be playing this really fast electro music. And it was like, ‘Look at these robot-like guys in shiny little outfits with these silver hats.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert was fascinated not only with the vibrant dancers, but the sounds. “I was like, ‘Man, this is crazy. I love it, but where are they getting this music from?’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952215\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1371px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952215\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1371\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna.jpg 1371w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-800x574.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-1020x732.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-160x115.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-bologna-768x551.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1371px) 100vw, 1371px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut, Mix Master Mike and Qbert gettin’ up in Bologna, Italy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Qbert remembers early attempts at breakdancing with his friends, who fashioned their own makeshift outfits. But it was the DJ scratch – particularly the skills displayed by Mix Master Ice on UTFO’s 1985 single “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KE3-IyLsg8\">Leader of the Pack\u003c/a>” – that really drew his interest. “I just started collecting the music, always collecting the music. And that’s what made me become a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day, Qbert was asked to DJ a garage party. “Everybody was about 12, 13, 14, 15, and everybody was breaking in the garage. And we were playing all my records on a big-ass giant box. Like, you open the top and you put the record in, and you just let that play. And the kids were spinning and they couldn’t control themselves. They would spin and they would spin, right into the DJ box, the turntable box. That was my first time being a mobile DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He explains his early attraction to turntables and scratching: “You could manipulate sound by grabbing (the record), moving forward and backward,” he says, imitating a scratch sound. “It was like a toy. A toy that was like a musical instrument. I didn’t even know it was a musical instrument. I was just thinking of it as like, it just sounds crazy. You just pull sound out of the air and move it, like, ‘Oh, what a weird contraption.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eventually, Q joined a mobile DJ crew called Live Style Productions, and came to the attention of Apollo and Mix Master Mike, who remember going to Balboa High School to see him spin.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Q, we just knew from around the way,” Apollo says. “We would go to different showcases on the weekends and see him perform. And so we knew about Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952240\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952240\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"407\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/600_us_champ_trophy-160x109.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz with the U.S. Championship trophy. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1991, Qbert entered the DMCs, winning the U.S. Championships and advancing all the way to the World Finals in London, where he took 2nd place. Aquino claims Qbert’s technical skills were so advanced, they went over most of the audience’s heads, but Qbert admits he got cocky and didn’t practice before his set: “I was sloppy,” he says. That loss instilled in him the importance of practicing, which he took to with rigorous discipline.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>The Turntables Might Wobble\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Hip-hop journalist and author Adisa Banjoko, a friend, recalls once being at Qbert’s house and hearing him scratch the rhythms of Rakim’s verses from Eric B. & Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” – using entirely scratched tones to replicate Rakim’s stanzas. “You gotta record that,” Banjoko told Q, who just shrugged and said, “Nah, I do that all the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Apollo and Mike were honing their two-man routine and making beats with the intention of forming a rap crew, with them as producers and DJs. After returning from London with his U.S. title, Qbert introduced Mike and Apollo to a rapper who used to hang out at his house named Nim-FHD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“This is where it all comes together,” Apollo says. “Me and Mike were making beats, and we always wanted to find a voice for our beats. And so when Qbert introduced us to this rapper, and when me and Mike heard that guy’s voice, Nim’s voice, we were like, ‘Oh man, that’s the voice for our music.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952232\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 604px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952232\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"604\" height=\"416\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875.jpg 604w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/n1071373619_171639_1875-160x110.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 604px) 100vw, 604px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The extended crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Apollo)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Apollo explained his vision to Nim, and they enlisted H2O, another emcee they met through Qbert, who also joined the group. “We told Q, do you want to be a part of the ‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd5gFx001qg\">Peter Piper\u003c/a>’ routine? And he was like, overjoyed. Like, ‘Let’s do it. Absolutely, let’s do it.’ So then we’re like… why don’t we become the DJs for this group that will be the first rap group with three DJs and two rappers? And we’ll do all the beats and scratching.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They christened themselves FM2O – an acronym for “Furious Minds To Observe” — the first iteration of what would become the Invisibl Skratch Piklz. As Mike says, “it was definitely a meant-to-be moment, when I hooked up with Q.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The group was managed by Aquino, who had left Unlimited Sounds and started throwing parties while trying to establish an independent hip-hop label, Ace Beat. While working on a demo tape, FM2O played local venues and music industry showcases like the Gavin Convention and New Music Seminar. In 1992, they appeared at the Omni in Oakland on a bill with Banjoko’s crew, Freedom T.R.O.O.P. 187, plus Organized Konfusion, Gangstarr and headliner Body Count. Epic as that lineup is, Apollo, Mike and Qbert’s orchestrated turntable segment during FM2O’s set was the absolute showstopper.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>FM2O’s music was slightly ahead of its time; in the early ’90s, “alternative hip-hop” hadn’t yet established itself in the mainstream. No hip-hop group had ever featured three DJs, all of them scratch fanatics.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Aquino tried unsuccessfully to secure FM2O a label deal, the DJs made moves in the battle scene.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952242\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952242\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_MMM_jacket_PhotobyJeffStrawBranding-2387-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike with his DMC Legend jacket at The Midway in San Francisco, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>The First Major World Titles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Qbert’s second-place 1991 DMC finish earned him props from Clark Kent, a well-respected New York DJ and producer of the New Music Seminar DJ Battle for World Supremacy. Kent asked Qbert to judge the 1992 battle alongside NYC heavyweights like EPMD’s DJ Scratch and Gangstarr’s DJ Premier. Mix Master Mike, meanwhile, entered as a contestant – and ended up winning the battle. (Ironically, Aquino says, instead of practicing before his routine, Mike had stayed up all night.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLRprNA_GSk\">Video of the battle\u003c/a> – during which Mike performs eight different routines, besting Japan’s DJ Honda in the final showdown before taking on defending champ Supreme in a challenge match – confirms he was on a mission to crush all competition. He doubles up Word of Mouth’s “King Kut” with blinding speed and finesse, blends Schooly D and Flavor Flav phrases to dis “sucker DJs,” slows down the records to juggle entirely new beats, deconstructs the wax into a series of melodic tones, and maintains a sense of rhythmic mastery that’s chaotic and jarring but never veers out of control. Boisterous shouts from the crowd testify to Mike’s determined brilliance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billed as the Rocksteady DJs (with the blessing of Bronx B-boy legend Crazy Legs, from the Rock Steady Crew), Qbert, Mike and Apollo won the DMCs that same year with the “Peter Piper” routine. The following year, with DJ Apollo unavailable while touring as the Souls of Mischief’s DJ, Mike and Qbert, billed as the Dream Team, again won the DMC World Championship. Mike still remembers the anticipation and energy that went into the preparations for the battle, along with the ginseng they imbibed before their set “like Chinese martial arts masters.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952237\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"397\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952237\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/l_f99accf3c766cef703abeb72c042e21e-160x106.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike, pictured at center: ‘It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know?’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>These victories were culturally significant. Not only had no West Coast DJ ever been crowned a World Champion before, but no Filipino DJ had ever placed that high in a major competition.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To explain just how significant, it’s necessary to understand the evolution of the DJ artform.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first development, playing “break” sections of records (known as breakbeats), was initially a clumsy needle-drop technique originated by hip-hop pioneer Kool Herc. Grandmaster Flash refined the DJ vocabulary with backspinning, cueing, cutting, punch phrasing, quick-mixing and reading the record like a clock. Grand Wizzard Theodore developed the basic scratch. Steve Dee invented the beat-juggle. But no DJ was doing synchronized team routines that reimagined the turntables as individual instruments prior to the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“That was an awesome thing,” Mike says. “It just started from a thought. The collective team, it was like it was a unit. We all had the same aspirations and goals of doing things people had never, ever seen or heard before. And it just spawned this whole movement. And it’s just something that we love to do. It was a discovery. Right? ‘Oh, shit. We could take this and flip it anyway we want to,’ you know? And that was the beauty of it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952220\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952220\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1715\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-800x536.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1020x683.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-768x515.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1536x1029.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-2048x1372.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.jackets-1920x1286.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sporting championship jackets in Tokyo, 1993. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Their succession of three major titles in two years elevated the DJ artform and raised the bar for battles. Teams of three or more DJs would soon proliferate throughout the DJ universe, and battle routines became more well-rounded, with emphasis on scratching, beat-juggling, and musicality or rhythmic coherence, as well as sheer technical ability.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It also led to a backlash of sorts: Mike confirms that after dominating for three years in a row, his crew was politely asked to retire from the DMC competition. He characterizes the request as a “giving other people a chance to win type deal.” But to him and his other Bay Area battlers, “We felt like it wasn’t fair to us because we got a lot in the tank. Let’s go. Keep going. See how far we can go… we were ready to defend the next year. But unfortunately they wanted to make us judges.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turned out, stepping away from the competitive battle scene proved to be a blessing in disguise. “After we stopped battling,” Mike says, “I was like, okay, what’s next? We’re going to make records now. I’m gonna become a full fledged artist, you know? I don’t want to be this DJ dude. I don’t want to be a DJ guy that’s playing other people’s records standing up there. We’ve done that already. I’m going to get in the studio and be a producer, and I’m going to make music out of this whole thing, like, springboard into making original compositions. And so that’s what I’m doing, to this day.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952238\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1430px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952238\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1430\" height=\"1039\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996.jpg 1430w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-800x581.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-1020x741.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP-in-Hawaii-1996-768x558.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1430px) 100vw, 1430px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Hawaii, 1996. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But first, the crew needed a new name. During their time DJing for FM2O, the three DJs were collectively known as Shadow of the Prophet, or simply, The Shadow. A chance encounter with an early-career DJ Shadow – who apologetically offered to change his name – led to Qbert graciously telling him that he could keep the name “Shadow,” and that he’d change his group’s name instead. “Rocksteady DJs” and “The Dream Team” were one-offs, for the most part. They needed something catchy that also reflected who they were.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One day it came to them. As Qbert recounts, “We was on one, and we were laughing and laughing. And I think Mix Master Mike said, “Why don’t we be called the Invisible Pickles? We were just cracking up and we were thinking about, you know, an invisible pickle.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next day, Qbert got a call from his pal Lou Quintanilla, a.k.a. DJ Disk. “And he said, ‘How about Invisible Scratch Pickles?’ I was like, that kind of sounds dope.” (Though it may sound abstract, the name is rooted in a concrete concept: the turntable as an “invisible instrument” that could be almost any instrument – drums, guitar, vocals, anything.) The crew’s offbeat sense of humor reflected in their new name had long been evident; in 1992, they released \u003cem>Battle Breaks\u003c/em>, one of the first DJ tool records specifically designed for scratching, officially credited to the Psychedelic Scratch Bastards on the Dirt Style label. In later years they would put out various releases under an affiliate record label that they named Galactic Butt Hair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Before settling on the new name, though, they ran it by a younger DJ who was asked to join the crew — Jonathan Cruz, a.k.a. DJ Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952228\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952228\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1193\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-800x543.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1020x692.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-768x521.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.shortkut-1536x1042.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Electro and the Art of the Quick Mix\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Growing up in Daly City, Shortkut caught the DJ bug thanks to a Filipino mobile crew who played his 6th grade dance. He started DJing at age 13, after the local Filipino sound system culture had cycled through disco, metal, and New Wave, before arriving at hip-hop, freestyle and Miami bass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of Shortkut’s first exposures to a DJ battle took place in a large hall.“There would be about four to six sound systems separately set up in the one room with their own individual sound systems. Each group would get about like 20 minutes to do their thing, and then at the end of the night, whoever won. The word got out that group won, and then that’s who everyone wanted to book for school dances or birthday parties.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortkut joined a crew called Just 2 Hype, which played freestyle, Miami bass and 808-laced Mantronix singles. “That’s why I think the Bay Area is specifically more scratch-DJ based,” he says, “because everyone scratched to fast beats, all the classic electro stuff.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He also worked on perfecting the art of the quick-mix, changing up the record every four or eight bars. But records like DJ Jazzy Jeff’s “Live At Union Square” drew him into the world of scratch-mixing. “When I first started scratching, I just listened to records, basically. All the early records I used to buy, I would just try to copy what I heard on record.”\u003cbr>\nIn the late ’80s and early ’90s, he says, “I really got into embracing hip-hop” – catching up with records that hadn’t been hugely popular in the Filipino scene, and becoming further enthralled with scratching and beat-juggling. “That’s when I was first hearing about Qbert and Apollo and Mix Master Mike,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952223\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1742px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1742\" height=\"1190\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952223\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_.jpg 1742w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-800x546.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1020x697.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-160x109.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-768x525.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan1_-1536x1049.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1742px) 100vw, 1742px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">First trip to Japan, 1993. At far left is B-boy and dancer Richard Colón, a.k.a. Crazy Legs from the Rock Steady Crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back then, Apollo was the big name, being from Unlimited Sounds. “He was the party rocker. But he was kind of the B-boy out of all the Filipino guys I knew.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As he attempted to build his DJ skills, Shortkut remembers listening to cassette tapes of Qbert scratching and mixing. Initially, he had only basic equipment, and used belt-driven turntables. “I got better once I got to direct-drives because I already knew how to handle it and have a certain feel to it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Qbert winning the U.S. DMC Championship in 1991 was huge, he says. “We didn’t really have any role models, as a Filipino kid.” He took the win as validation – and inspiration.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I lived about five minutes from Q’s house,” he says. “I used to go to Q’s house with the guy who taught me how to DJ. We both cold-called Q because we knew he was the one who had all the battle videos. So we would go to his house and dub the videos and while they were dubbing, me and Q would scratch.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During this time, Shortkut says, Mike had moved to Sacramento, and Apollo was DJing for Branford Marsalis, “so I would hook up with Q and Disk a lot.” Q used to bring Shortkut and Disk along when he opened up shows in the Bay – affording the younger DJs valuable stage experience. Shortkut, Mike, and Q eventually formed a crew briefly called the Turntable Dragons, pre-ISP. Then, in 1993, Shortkut, Mike, and Q played a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13935467/the-bomb-magazine-label-san-francisco-turntablism-djs\">Bomb Hip-Hop\u003c/a> Party – possibly the first time they had been billed as the Invisibl Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952239\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 250px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952239\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/invisblskratchp_002-h.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"250\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The five-man crew. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>‘Everyone That Worked There Was Filipino’\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Dave Paul, publisher of \u003cem>Bomb Hip Hop Magazine\u003c/em>, coincidentally also began as a mobile DJ in 1984 with a crew called Midnight Connections. He tells a funny story about working an after-school job for Chevron. “I wasn’t that great. So they moved me from, like, the main Chevron on Geary Street over to one on California Street. And everyone that worked there was Filipino. Turned out everyone that worked there was also a DJ.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Paul knew of Apollo from Unlimited Sounds, and had seen Qbert perform a famous “Mary Had A Little Lamb” routine during a San Jose battle around 1989 or 1990. “That really got his name out,” he says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>During the annual Gavin Convention in San Francisco, Bomb Hip Hop magazine would present live performance showcases. Paul booked the Piklz on multiple occasions, beginning in 1992, when they were still called the Rocksteady DJs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Paul, the vibe of those early performances “was always sort of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDLzGtQmMyw\">don’t-give-a-fuck style\u003c/a>. Like, things didn’t have to be clean. They were just really raw. And it was just ill. They were doing stuff that no one else was doing at the time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_10345320\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-10345320\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/01/QBertMain-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ QBert. \u003ccite>(Thud Rumble)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>After releasing a now-legendary compilation tape that featured Qbert along with a Canadian MC named Madchild, as well as local underground artists like Homeless Derelix, Blackalicious, Bored Stiff, and Mystik Journeymen, Bomb Hip Hop became a record label in 1995 with the release of \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13937489/best-bay-area-turntablism-scratch-dj-albums\">\u003cem>Return of the DJ Vol. 1\u003c/em>\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That record essentially started the movement of turntablism as a musical genre. The Skratch Piklz (at that time, Qbert, Shortkut and Disk) were featured on “Invasion of the Octopus People,” while Mix Master Mike contributed his first official solo production, “Terrorwrist.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Return of the DJ \u003c/em>evolved into a compilation series spanning multiple volumes, and inspired numerous others, like Om Records’ \u003cem>Deep Concentration\u003c/em> and Ubiquity’s \u003cem>Audio Alchemy\u003c/em> compilations. Asphodel, an alternative label known for ultra-underground somnolent, ambient, droney electronic music, signed the Skratch Piklz to a deal, which resulted in 1996’s single “Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klamz Uv Deth,” which featured Qbert, Shortkut, and Mix Master Mike.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952246\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1938px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952246\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1938\" height=\"1882\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca.jpg 1938w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-800x777.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1020x991.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-160x155.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-768x746.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1536x1492.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ezgif-3-ae00e595ca-1920x1865.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1938px) 100vw, 1938px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Invisibl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Clamz Uv Deth,’ 1997. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“A very strange thing about that (single) is, I had just invented scratch music,” Qbert says. “Which is this thing where every sound is scratched. Drums are scratched, the hi-hats are scratched, the snare and vocals are scratched, the chords, every single thing is scratched! No matter what is in there. So that was tracked out — like, every track was off the turntables, making a complete scratch song.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turntablism spread quickly through San Francisco’s progressive club scene in the mid-’90s. Mark Herlihy’s art/performance collective Future Primitive established itself as an avant garde music label with a live recording of Shortkut and Cut Chemist at Cat’s Alley, on Folsom Street. An outer Tenderloin hole in the wall, Deco, became a headquarters for unfiltered, ultra-creative DJ expression in its basement, via “Many Styles” nights curated by Apollo. Qbert was part of the groundbreaking alternative hip-hop group Dr. Octagon along with producer Dan the Automator and MC Kool Keith, who recorded an indie classic that got re-released nationally by Dreamworks. To this day, Qbert’s scratch solo on Dr. Octagon’s “Earth People” stands out as a particular flashpoint, the turntable equivalent, perhaps, of the guitar solos on “Hotel California” or “Comfortably Numb.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Needless to say, it’s not an empty boast when Mix Master Mike says he and the Skratch Piklz “pretty much created this genre of music.” No one was doing it before them, and many followed in their footsteps. Locally, the Bullet Proof Scratch Hamsters (aka the Space Travelers), Supernatural Turntable Artists, and the Oakland Faders all scratched and juggled. Live bands incorporating turntablists included Live Human (DJ Quest) and Soulstice (Mei-Lwun). New York’s X-Ecutioners were probably ISP’s closest counterparts nationally, having formed in 1989. But despite their turntable innovations, even they weren’t performing or recording as a \u003cem>band\u003c/em> until after the Skratch Piklz.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952245\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952245\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1280\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/AAA_Q_ISP_11_JeffStraw-2144-1536x1024.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz at the DMC World DJ Finals at The Midway in San Francisco, Calif., on Nov. 3, 2023. \u003ccite>(Jeff Straw)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Back when they were known as the X-Men, the X-Ecutioners faced off against the Piklz in a landmark 1996 battle in New York’s Manhattan Center – a contest so epic, it’s listed among \u003cem>Mixmag\u003c/em>’s \u003ca href=\"https://mixmag.net/feature/the-10-best-dj-scratch-battles-of-all-time\">Top 10 DJ Scratch Battles of All Time\u003c/a>. X-Ecutioners member and DJ historian Rob Swift says Qbert first came on his radar in 1991, when he beat X-Ecutioners founder Steve Dee to win the US DMC Finals.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We thought he was Hawaiian,” Swift says, because Qbert appeared to be wearing a lei in the battle video. “We didn’t know that he was this Filipino DJ that came out of this Filipino community of DJs in the Bay Area. We didn’t know that there \u003cem>were\u003c/em> DJs out there.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Swift later entered the 1991 New Music Seminar battle, where Qbert was a judge; the two exchanged numbers and began calling each other and exchanging videos regularly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When rappers began increasingly excluding the DJ throughout the ’90s, he says he and Qbert would discuss what to do about it., “We would both be like, ‘You’ve got these rappers (not respecting the DJ). Fuck them, and we’re going to create our own DJ scene. If the music industry is going to turn their backs on DJing, we need to figure out a way to just create our own scene.’”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“And,” he adds, “that’s exactly what we did.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952225\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952225\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1166\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-800x530.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1020x676.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-768x509.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Lebanon.trophy-1536x1018.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Invisibl Skratch Piklz in Lebanon. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Enter the ITF — and D-Styles\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>When the Pilkz battled the X-Ecutioners, it was as much about gaining respect for turntable culture as it was about individual bragging rights. Though the court of public opinion is still split on who won, the battle put a spotlight on both crews. As Swift says, “We started strategizing ways to book our own tours and create all-DJ competitions (like) the ITF, the International Turntablist Federation,” who organized the historic battle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Founded by Alex Aquino with help from Shortkut, the ITF was established in 1995 and stayed active until 2005. It was intended as a cultural organization, and as somewhat of a critique of the DMC, which had become the only major DJ competition, following the demise of the New Music Seminar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Without the DMC,” Aquino says, “we wouldn’t have this world stage for the guys to be on. But after Q lost that first battle, we were like, something has to change.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Specifically, the criteria. “And so, we were like, let’s do our own battle. Let’s have real turntablists and DJs judge it, like a New Music Seminar, but instead of just the one-on-one battle, the advancement class for the belt, let’s do a scratching category. Let’s do a beat-juggling category. And let’s do a team category. And that’s how we started out.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952211\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1366px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952211\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1366\" height=\"1834\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine.jpg 1366w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-800x1074.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1020x1369.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-160x215.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-768x1031.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.japan_.magazine-1144x1536.jpg 1144w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1366px) 100vw, 1366px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In a Japanese magazine, date unknown. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>DJs like Vin Roc, Babu, Craze, and A-Trak all won ITF titles, as did teams like the Allies and Beat Junkies. The ITF succeeded in giving turntablists a visible platform to showcase their skills and in further popularizing the artform in the U.S. and internationally. (In 1999, the DMC would add a team category, and the organization currently rotates additional categories, including Scratch, Portablist, and Beat Juggling.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After \u003cem>Return of the DJ\u003c/em>’s “Octopus People,” with Apollo unavailable and Mix Master Mike pursuing a solo career, the Skratch Piklz needed new blood. For the next few years, ISP membership became somewhat fluid, swelling and contracting as new members joined for a while, before going off to do other projects. DJ Disk, DJ Flare, Canadian teenage prodigy A-Trak, and former Thud Rumble label manager Ritche Desuasido, a.k.a. Yogafrog, were all ISP members at one time or another, along with Shortkut.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, Beat Junkies member Dave Cuasito, a.k.a. D-Styles, joined the Piklz and became a linchpin for the group; Aquino calls him “the hidden master.” Though not as flashy or famous as Qbert, he’s well-respected in turntablist circles and has helped focus the Pilkz on compositional elements in their music while also being able to scratch, cut and juggle at a high level.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Born in the Philippines, D-Styles grew up in San Jose. Like the other Piklz, he was exposed to hip-hop through breaking and its accompanying soundtrack. “I would hear the songs that they were playing, but then they would scratch certain words and certain parts of that song. And so I was always curious how they were doing it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952229\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1759px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952229\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1759\" height=\"1168\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_.jpg 1759w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-800x531.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1020x677.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-160x106.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.qbert_.dst_-1536x1020.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1759px) 100vw, 1759px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Grandmaster DXT and Qbert. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Alex Aquino)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>His answer came when he saw Grandmixer DST (now known as DXT)’s scratch segment on Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit.” After getting a basic Realistic mixer for his birthday, he, too, joined a mobile DJ crew (Sound City), who pooled their equipment like so many others – and spent their meager proceeds on post-gig Denny’s meals. After taking part in typical mobile battles with crews exchanging 20-minute sets, he discovered there was a battle specifically for scratch DJs, and competed in the 1993 DMC.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1996, he moved to San Francisco to attend college, but what he really wanted was to pursue music. He was already familiar with Mike, Qbert and Shortkut from the battle scene, and from hanging out on Tuesday night at Deco, a small speakeasy-style jazz bar with open turntables in the basement.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“One strange night, I got a phone call on my answering machine and it was Yogafrog and Q, and they were like, ‘Hey, man’ – I don’t know if they were drunk or what – but they were like, ‘we need to talk, man. We think we should all come together and form a crew.” They met up and talked, and soon after, he was asked to officially join the group.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>D-Styles stoic demeanor compliments the other Piklz, yet beneath his focused concentration lies a punk rock attitude that aligns with Qbert’s philosophy that the only rule is there are no rules. Likewise, his turntable-composition approach balances the others’ battle-DJ backgrounds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952235\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 636px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952235\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"636\" height=\"474\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs.png 636w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/SK-A-TRAK-1997-at-Qs-160x119.png 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 636px) 100vw, 636px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Shortkut and A-Trak at Qbert’s place, 1997. \u003ccite>(Courtesy Shortkut)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>“As far as a turntable composer, I feel like we definitely embrace the more musical side of it, and less technical,” he says. “For the battle DJs, they really try to spray like a Uzi, you know what I mean? And just get off a bunch of power stuff and try to wow the the crowd and the judges. For music, it’s more about the long-term thing. We want to make music that’s timeless. And it’s not based off of a five-minute routine.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With the core Piklz now set with Qbert, Shortkut and D-Styles, Mix Master Mike – who remained affiliated with the crew – says, “I felt like we had the perfect stew. Everyone had their own style, their own identity.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Around this time, Mike began putting together his first solo album, \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, which he envisioned as “not an underground album (but) a worldwide release.” He imagined himself as a sonic transducer, attracting and reshaping matter into different forms. He drew on inspirations like Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, early Public Enemy, Thelonious Monk, Rage Against the Machine and Ennio Morricone. He contemplated the subtlety of silence, of ghost notes and pregnant pauses. And then he went out and made an album with booming, deafening drums and thumping bass on nearly every track.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I focused on the drums first,” Mike says. “I wanted to make sure those drums were hitting really hard.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952249\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952249\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft.jpg 1000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-800x787.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-160x157.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/MMM.antitheft-768x756.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mix Master Mike’s ‘Anti-Theft Device,’ 1998. \u003ccite>(Asphodel Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>On \u003cem>Anti-Theft Device\u003c/em>, the found sounds and quirky vocal samples (“NASA maintains this is \u003cem>not\u003c/em> Colonel Blaha’s voice”) often present on DJ mix tapes resurface often, along with boom-bap beats and scratched phrases, instruments and sound effects. There are elements of intoxicated or altered reality, and bug-out moments that suggest turboized vocoders spouting underwater propellers, or seemingly random musical sample generators harnessing infinite libraries of sound, from raga to reggae to rock.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“At the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s about spearheading the evolution of the battle DJ – as artist, composer, tastemaker.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While Mike was the first Pikl to make a solo album, Qbert crafted an especially ambitious concept for his first official solo debut. As Mike tells it, he had some extra tracks left over, which he gave to Qbert. “And he fuckin’, just like, went crazy on those beats. And then, yeah. It became \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952250\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 600px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952250\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566.jpg 600w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/R-16932444-1610670653-3566-160x160.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">DJ Qbert’s ‘Wave Twisters,’ 1998. The album spawned a cult-classic 2001 animated film of the same name. \u003ccite>(Galactic Butt Hair Records)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Wave Twisters, the Beasties and Beyond\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> holds the rare distinction of being a soundtrack around which a movie was later designed. The album received extremely positive reviews, making many music critics’ year-end lists. To this day, it’s regarded as one of the best turntablism albums of all time. Tracks like “Destination: Quasar 16.33.45.78” took ISP battle routines to new levels, imagining a battle in inner space between a heroic dental hygienist and the minions of a villain named Lord Ook. The track revels in sci-fi tropes, with vocal cues like “Attention, starship!” coloring the scratched, transformed and cut-up audio landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>According to Qbert, \u003cem>Wave Twisters\u003c/em> was willed into existence. “I intentionally foresaw it because in the back of my head, I was like, I’m gonna make every song like a storyline. It’s going to be a thing. And somebody’s going to animate this. And then out of nowhere, the universe made it all work.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13937489","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Meanwhile, Mix Master Mike was setting his own intentions – around becoming a member of the Beastie Boys. A longtime fan of their music, he says, “even before I met them, I always thought I was the fourth Beastie, and I was the missing element.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After meeting the Beasties’ MCA during a Rock Steady Crew anniversary in 1996, Mike took an unusual route to make his dreams come true. “I went up to MCA and introduced myself,” he recalls. “He knew who I was through all the competitions and the battles, and we exchanged phone numbers and went back home. And late at night, I would just leave these scratch messages on his answering machine. Two, three in the morning, just leaving these scratches on his machine, hoping that these transmissions would penetrate. Fortunately they did. \u003ca href=\"http://www.kqed.org/bayareahiphop/timeline#mix-master-mike-becomes-the-beastie-boys-dj\">And the rest is history\u003c/a>.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952251\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952251\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1611\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-800x503.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1020x642.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-768x483.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1536x967.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-2048x1289.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/Beasties.MixMasterMike.2004-1920x1208.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L-R) Mixmaster Mike, Mike Diamond, Adam ‘MCA’ Yauch, and Adam ‘Ad-Rock’ Horovitz of The Beastie Boys attend the MTV Europe Music Awards 2004 at Tor di Valle Nov. 18, 2004 in Rome, Italy. \u003ccite>(Bruno Vincent/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Mike joined the Beasties in time for 1998’s \u003cem>Hello Nasty\u003c/em> album, remaining part of the group until MCA died of cancer in 2012 and the Beastie Boys disbanded. “So at the end of the day,” Mike says, “it’s all about power of intention, right? And my intention was to get in the band or work with the band.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the ’90s drew to a close, the Piklz weren’t quite done. They produced Skratchcon 2000, a scratching convention, bringing together pioneering masters and acolytes of DJ scratch music. “That was our old manager, Yogafrog,” Qbert says. “His idea to put on a convention called Scratchcon, that was a genius idea of his, and we should do a Part II. We got all the best, most popular scratchers on the planet to come through. It was huge. Steve Dee was there, even Aladdin, all the X-Ecutioners, everybody. It was amazing.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13952252\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13952252\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1500\" height=\"983\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_.jpg 1500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-800x524.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-1020x668.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-160x105.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/02/ISP.Garage.Group_-768x503.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1500px) 100vw, 1500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Shortkut, D-Styles, Mix Master Mike, Yogafrog and QBert in QBert’s garage in the Excelsior District of San Francisco, 1998. \u003ccite>(Liz Hafalia /The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images))\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Skratchcon drew fans from all over the country, in addition to current and historic scratch DJs,for live showcases and demonstrations like DJ Radar’s introduction of scratch notation. The convention culminated with a live concert at the Fillmore Auditorium, billed at the time as the ISP’s last official performance. To this day, it stands as one of the highpoints of a decade overflowing with revolutionary developments in hip-hop DJ culture, which saw the Invisibl Skratch Piklz make history and become iconic representatives of turntablism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As Mix Master Mike says, “There is no ceiling to this. No, it’s whatever you think about is whatever you create and whatever you can apply.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-11687704\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"60\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-400x30.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/06/Turntable.Break_-768x58.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13952208/invisibl-skratch-piklz-filipino-djs-daly-city-san-francisco-turntablism-history","authors":["11839"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_69"],"tags":["arts_2854","arts_21712","arts_2852","arts_10278","arts_831","arts_17218","arts_21940","arts_1146","arts_19347","arts_21711"],"featImg":"arts_13952226","label":"arts"},"arts_13959726":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13959726","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13959726","score":null,"sort":[1725474738000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"vicki-starr-transgender-topless-dancer-san-francisco-lgbtq-prison-reform","title":"The Transgender Topless Dancer Who Went to War with Prison Authorities","publishDate":1725474738,"format":"standard","headTitle":"The Transgender Topless Dancer Who Went to War with Prison Authorities | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8978,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>In 1964, after \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13953248/topless-at-the-condor-movie-review-carol-doda-documentary-north-beach-history\">Carol Doda danced topless at The Condor\u003c/a> for the first time, nightclubs across San Francisco’s North Beach erupted into a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13958719/who-was-yvonne-dangers-1960s-topless-north-beach-star-deportation\">topless frenzy\u003c/a>. Topless bands, topless clothing stores and even a topless shoe shine all opened in quick succession. But one of the most sensational acts of the time came courtesy of Vicki “Starr” Fernandez, a beautiful transgender woman.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13959375']Born in Puerto Rico in 1932, Fernandez ran away to America aged just 14, so that she might live a freer, more authentic life. “As a child,” she told the Bakersfield Californian in 1968, “I was more feminine and pretty than the girls in our school … When I was a teenager, my looks and behavior became an embarrassment to my family. The other kids started making really vicious remarks to me … [In] the States, at least I can dress and act as I please without hurting myself or my family.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fernandez danced all over North Beach at clubs including Finnochio’s, El Cid, Pierre’s, Mr. D’s and Coke’s. At the Follies Burlesque, Fernandez participated in the “Battle of the Sexes” — a dance-off in which cis women went head-to-head with trans women and drag queens. (The point was that the audience could rarely tell who was who.) Fernandez was frequently billed as “Mister” (or “Mr.”) Vicki Starr, sensationalizing her trans-ness as a way to maximize audience numbers. This kind of publicity undoubtedly carried major risks for her personal safety and legal standing. Still, she boldly and diligently carried on performing, never shying away from talking about her gender identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13959772\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13959772\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A nightclub poster featuring two women, one glamorously made-up, the other standing topless, her back turned to the camera.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-800x620.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1020x790.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-768x595.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1536x1190.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-2048x1587.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1920x1488.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A poster from Coke’s advertising performances by Vicki Starr and Roxanne Alegria with the declaration that: ‘Boys will be girls.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the GLBT Historical Society)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1967, Fernandez told \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> columnist Merla Zellerbach that she was “working for one reason — to earn money to pay for the conversion operation. As soon as it’s finished, my fiancé and I will get married, possibly adopt children and settle down quietly.” What Fernandez craved, she told the reporter, was “a normal life as a woman.” She was entirely unwilling to give up on that dream, no matter the hurdles in her path. Though Fernandez enjoyed the limelight and relished every opportunity to be her most glamorous self, the nightclubs that made her famous were in many ways merely a means of survival.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Standing up for herself\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Fernandez spent much of her life kicking against social and institutional prejudice. From the time she arrived in San Francisco, Fernandez unabashedly lived every moment as the woman that she was. She was a fashionista, always clad in the most elegant styles of the day. She attracted a large, loving and very diverse friend group. She was politically active, keeping files of political pamphlets at home from the likes of George Moscone and Willie Brown, and voting for Harvey Milk when he was a candidate for the Board of Supervisors. Throughout her life, she stood up for and fiercely defended her rights as a woman.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the biggest battles of Fernandez’s life started in 1971, when Fernandez’s longterm partner Richard Smith was convicted of homicide and incarcerated. It was far from the domestic bliss she had once envisioned for herself and, making matters worse, she soon found herself restricted from visiting Smith because of her gender identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One correspondence from the California Men’s Colony in San Luis Obispo reflects the hostile policies of the era:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez remains biologically a male. Accordingly, until such time as a sex change operation is completed, and other approval to visit has been granted, Ms. Fernandez would be expected to enter the institution in male attire and utilize the male rest room.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>To Fernandez, these parameters were unacceptable. She quickly sought out the assistance of the San Francisco Neighborhood Legal Assistance Foundation (SFNLAF), and together they went about becoming a thorn in the side of the California Department of Corrections. They started with letters to the California State Prison Solano, in which Smith was originally held, then moved on to the prison in San Luis Obispo, where he was moved in 1974. That year, one letter to its director Raymond Procunier stated:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez was allowed to visit [Smith] for a period of 9 months without any questions raised. She made no attempt to hide her identity in this time. It was evidently only after Ms. Fernandez was discovered to be a trans-sexual that her visiting privilege was suddenly denied.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>For years, Fernandez and the SFNLAF badgered the Department of Corrections to change their stance on Fernandez’s clothing restrictions. And for years, the Department of Corrections tried to brush them off. Fernandez refused to back down. She began actively studying and campaigning for prison reform. She sought advice from the Prisoner’s Union, the American Civil Liberties Union and the Prison Law Collective. She contacted \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11985739/san-franciscans-honor-glide-church-founder-rev-cecil-williams-at-memorial-ceremony\">Rev. Cecil Williams\u003c/a> of Glide Memorial, knowing he was outspoken on the topic of prison reform. She befriended Daniel Castro, the senior consultant for the select committee on corrections. She became a relentless force — and eventually, her work paid off.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1975, the San Luis Obispo Men’s Colony finally relented and permitted Fernandez to visit Smith in the clothing of her choosing. Access alone was not enough to silence her. When transphobic treatment reared its head in the visitors’ room, Fernandez made sure to document her displeasure in written complaints. One letter from the SFNLAF to H.L. Shaw, then the outside lieutenant of the San Luis Obispo prison, stated:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez has been subjected to further abuse which is uncalled for. Her attempts to hold hands and affectionately touch Mr. Smith in the way common between husband and wife has been precluded. Various sergeants under you have offended Ms. Fernandez by carefully policing her hand holding activities.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>It never mattered who she was up against, Fernandez was always ready to fight for equal treatment, no matter the venue.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>A loving legacy\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Though Fernandez’s life was not the easiest, she refused to live meekly or under anyone’s thumb. Proud of her identity, she fought tooth and nail for every scrap of progress she ever made and every shred of happiness she ever found. She was indefatigable when it came to living out loud, no matter who was judging her. But behind closed doors, she was a sensitive and sentimental soul. In the end, it was those traits that formed the foundation of Fernandez’s lasting cultural legacy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13870056']During an era when many of her contemporaries were trying their best to live under the radar and out of sight, Fernandez proudly documented her community in as many ways as she could. In her death, Fernandez left behind a comprehensive goldmine of photographs, flyers and other ephemera that continues to stand as a reflection of the LGBTQ community from the 1950s through the 1980s. These files reflect a joyful and loving community full of beautiful souls who refused to be relegated to the shadows. Now in the care of San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society, they offer important insight into a woefully under-documented period of time for LGBTQ people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1967, bemoaning the many hardships she faced, Fernandez told the \u003cem>Chronicle\u003c/em>: “If I’d been born all girl, none of this would have happened.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While her life would have undoubtedly been less challenging if that was the case, it was Fernandez’s trans-ness that ultimately made her so special — in her nightclub performances, in her legal battles, and in the keepsakes she ultimately left behind. “You have a very peaceful effect on people,” a friend named Susan wrote to Fernandez in the 1970s. “A harmony that lifts them and can heal them.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The personal documents Fernandez left behind will continue to do so long into the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>To learn about other Rebel Girls from Bay Area History, visit the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/rebelgirls\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Rebel Girls homepage\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Vicki ‘Starr’ Fernandez was a topless dancer who fought tirelessly for her right to be seen as a woman.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725920996,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":22,"wordCount":1389},"headData":{"title":"Honoring Vicki Starr, the Transgender Nightclub Sensation | KQED","description":"Vicki ‘Starr’ Fernandez was a topless dancer who fought tirelessly for her right to be seen as a woman.","ogTitle":"The Transgender Topless Dancer Who Went to War with Prison Authorities","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"The Transgender Topless Dancer Who Went to War with Prison Authorities","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Honoring Vicki Starr, the Transgender Nightclub Sensation %%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"The Transgender Topless Dancer Who Went to War with Prison Authorities","datePublished":"2024-09-04T11:32:18-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T15:29:56-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"nprStoryId":"kqed-13959726","templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13959726/vicki-starr-transgender-topless-dancer-san-francisco-lgbtq-prison-reform","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>In 1964, after \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13953248/topless-at-the-condor-movie-review-carol-doda-documentary-north-beach-history\">Carol Doda danced topless at The Condor\u003c/a> for the first time, nightclubs across San Francisco’s North Beach erupted into a \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13958719/who-was-yvonne-dangers-1960s-topless-north-beach-star-deportation\">topless frenzy\u003c/a>. Topless bands, topless clothing stores and even a topless shoe shine all opened in quick succession. But one of the most sensational acts of the time came courtesy of Vicki “Starr” Fernandez, a beautiful transgender woman.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13959375","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Born in Puerto Rico in 1932, Fernandez ran away to America aged just 14, so that she might live a freer, more authentic life. “As a child,” she told the Bakersfield Californian in 1968, “I was more feminine and pretty than the girls in our school … When I was a teenager, my looks and behavior became an embarrassment to my family. The other kids started making really vicious remarks to me … [In] the States, at least I can dress and act as I please without hurting myself or my family.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fernandez danced all over North Beach at clubs including Finnochio’s, El Cid, Pierre’s, Mr. D’s and Coke’s. At the Follies Burlesque, Fernandez participated in the “Battle of the Sexes” — a dance-off in which cis women went head-to-head with trans women and drag queens. (The point was that the audience could rarely tell who was who.) Fernandez was frequently billed as “Mister” (or “Mr.”) Vicki Starr, sensationalizing her trans-ness as a way to maximize audience numbers. This kind of publicity undoubtedly carried major risks for her personal safety and legal standing. Still, she boldly and diligently carried on performing, never shying away from talking about her gender identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13959772\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13959772\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A nightclub poster featuring two women, one glamorously made-up, the other standing topless, her back turned to the camera.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1984\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-800x620.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1020x790.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-768x595.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1536x1190.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-2048x1587.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/06/20240606_134527-1920x1488.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A poster from Coke’s advertising performances by Vicki Starr and Roxanne Alegria with the declaration that: ‘Boys will be girls.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the GLBT Historical Society)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In 1967, Fernandez told \u003cem>San Francisco Chronicle\u003c/em> columnist Merla Zellerbach that she was “working for one reason — to earn money to pay for the conversion operation. As soon as it’s finished, my fiancé and I will get married, possibly adopt children and settle down quietly.” What Fernandez craved, she told the reporter, was “a normal life as a woman.” She was entirely unwilling to give up on that dream, no matter the hurdles in her path. Though Fernandez enjoyed the limelight and relished every opportunity to be her most glamorous self, the nightclubs that made her famous were in many ways merely a means of survival.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Standing up for herself\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Fernandez spent much of her life kicking against social and institutional prejudice. From the time she arrived in San Francisco, Fernandez unabashedly lived every moment as the woman that she was. She was a fashionista, always clad in the most elegant styles of the day. She attracted a large, loving and very diverse friend group. She was politically active, keeping files of political pamphlets at home from the likes of George Moscone and Willie Brown, and voting for Harvey Milk when he was a candidate for the Board of Supervisors. Throughout her life, she stood up for and fiercely defended her rights as a woman.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"fullwidth"},"numeric":["fullwidth"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the biggest battles of Fernandez’s life started in 1971, when Fernandez’s longterm partner Richard Smith was convicted of homicide and incarcerated. It was far from the domestic bliss she had once envisioned for herself and, making matters worse, she soon found herself restricted from visiting Smith because of her gender identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One correspondence from the California Men’s Colony in San Luis Obispo reflects the hostile policies of the era:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez remains biologically a male. Accordingly, until such time as a sex change operation is completed, and other approval to visit has been granted, Ms. Fernandez would be expected to enter the institution in male attire and utilize the male rest room.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>To Fernandez, these parameters were unacceptable. She quickly sought out the assistance of the San Francisco Neighborhood Legal Assistance Foundation (SFNLAF), and together they went about becoming a thorn in the side of the California Department of Corrections. They started with letters to the California State Prison Solano, in which Smith was originally held, then moved on to the prison in San Luis Obispo, where he was moved in 1974. That year, one letter to its director Raymond Procunier stated:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez was allowed to visit [Smith] for a period of 9 months without any questions raised. She made no attempt to hide her identity in this time. It was evidently only after Ms. Fernandez was discovered to be a trans-sexual that her visiting privilege was suddenly denied.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>For years, Fernandez and the SFNLAF badgered the Department of Corrections to change their stance on Fernandez’s clothing restrictions. And for years, the Department of Corrections tried to brush them off. Fernandez refused to back down. She began actively studying and campaigning for prison reform. She sought advice from the Prisoner’s Union, the American Civil Liberties Union and the Prison Law Collective. She contacted \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/news/11985739/san-franciscans-honor-glide-church-founder-rev-cecil-williams-at-memorial-ceremony\">Rev. Cecil Williams\u003c/a> of Glide Memorial, knowing he was outspoken on the topic of prison reform. She befriended Daniel Castro, the senior consultant for the select committee on corrections. She became a relentless force — and eventually, her work paid off.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1975, the San Luis Obispo Men’s Colony finally relented and permitted Fernandez to visit Smith in the clothing of her choosing. Access alone was not enough to silence her. When transphobic treatment reared its head in the visitors’ room, Fernandez made sure to document her displeasure in written complaints. One letter from the SFNLAF to H.L. Shaw, then the outside lieutenant of the San Luis Obispo prison, stated:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Ms. Fernandez has been subjected to further abuse which is uncalled for. Her attempts to hold hands and affectionately touch Mr. Smith in the way common between husband and wife has been precluded. Various sergeants under you have offended Ms. Fernandez by carefully policing her hand holding activities.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>It never mattered who she was up against, Fernandez was always ready to fight for equal treatment, no matter the venue.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>A loving legacy\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>Though Fernandez’s life was not the easiest, she refused to live meekly or under anyone’s thumb. Proud of her identity, she fought tooth and nail for every scrap of progress she ever made and every shred of happiness she ever found. She was indefatigable when it came to living out loud, no matter who was judging her. But behind closed doors, she was a sensitive and sentimental soul. In the end, it was those traits that formed the foundation of Fernandez’s lasting cultural legacy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13870056","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>During an era when many of her contemporaries were trying their best to live under the radar and out of sight, Fernandez proudly documented her community in as many ways as she could. In her death, Fernandez left behind a comprehensive goldmine of photographs, flyers and other ephemera that continues to stand as a reflection of the LGBTQ community from the 1950s through the 1980s. These files reflect a joyful and loving community full of beautiful souls who refused to be relegated to the shadows. Now in the care of San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society, they offer important insight into a woefully under-documented period of time for LGBTQ people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1967, bemoaning the many hardships she faced, Fernandez told the \u003cem>Chronicle\u003c/em>: “If I’d been born all girl, none of this would have happened.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While her life would have undoubtedly been less challenging if that was the case, it was Fernandez’s trans-ness that ultimately made her so special — in her nightclub performances, in her legal battles, and in the keepsakes she ultimately left behind. “You have a very peaceful effect on people,” a friend named Susan wrote to Fernandez in the 1970s. “A harmony that lifts them and can heal them.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The personal documents Fernandez left behind will continue to do so long into the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003chr>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"ad","attributes":{"named":{"label":"floatright"},"numeric":["floatright"]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>To learn about other Rebel Girls from Bay Area History, visit the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/rebelgirls\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Rebel Girls homepage\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}}],"link":"/arts/13959726/vicki-starr-transgender-topless-dancer-san-francisco-lgbtq-prison-reform","authors":["11242"],"programs":["arts_8978"],"series":["arts_22303"],"categories":["arts_1","arts_7862","arts_11615","arts_75"],"tags":["arts_10278","arts_1962","arts_5747","arts_3226","arts_8177","arts_21841","arts_4330"],"featImg":"arts_13963471","label":"arts_8978"},"arts_13955066":{"type":"posts","id":"arts_13955066","meta":{"index":"posts_1716263798","site":"arts","id":"13955066","score":null,"sort":[1715978902000]},"guestAuthors":[],"slug":"del-martin-phyllis-lyon-lesbian-icons-lgbt-daughters-of-bilitis","title":"The San Francisco Couple Whose Lifelong Love Changed America","publishDate":1715978902,"format":"standard","headTitle":"The San Francisco Couple Whose Lifelong Love Changed America | KQED","labelTerm":{"term":8978,"site":"arts"},"content":"\u003cp>[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hen Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon co-authored \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> in 1972, the effect was seismic. Dedicated to “daughters throughout the world who are struggling with their identity,” the book began with a clear, unequivocal explanation:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>A Lesbian is a woman whose primary erotic, psychological, emotional and social interest is in a member of her own sex.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>That a book about lesbian culture would even require such a definition feels bizarre today. But the lifelong work of San Francisco couple Martin and Lyon is one of the reasons that so few people require such annotations now. \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> didn’t just demystify same-sex female relationships — it calmly and clearly sought to normalize them. At the time, few representations of lesbians existed outside of lurid pulp fiction or psychology textbooks. \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> changed the conversation and reassured queer women everywhere that there was nothing wrong with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13889944']When Martin and Lyon began their relationship in 1952, after two years of friendship, America was a terrifying place to be LGBTQ. Looking back in 1995, the couple wrote an essay recalling the “climate of fear, rejection and oppression” that marked the earliest days of their 56-year romance. “Lesbians and gay men, if found out,” the pair wrote, “were subject to reprisals from all quarters of society: employers, police, military, government, family and friends.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With that in mind — after moving into a Castro District apartment together on Valentine’s Day in 1953 — Martin and Lyon sought friendships with fellow lesbians outside of the oft-raided gay bars. That led to the establishment in 1955 of the \u003ca href=\"https://guides.loc.gov/lgbtq-studies/before-stonewall/daughters-of-bilitis\">Daughters of Bilitis\u003c/a> (DOB), the first lesbian-rights organization in the U.S.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Originally the idea of \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/queeriodicals/p/CFaBsyuAVGF/?img_index=1\">Rosalie Bamberger\u003c/a>, a local Filipina factory worker, the nonprofit started with just four couples. Martin was the club’s first president, and by the end of its first year, DOB had 15 official members. From there, the group expanded their ranks via the Daughters of Bilitis newsletter and, starting in October 1956, \u003ca href=\"https://archive.org/details/pub_ladder\">\u003cem>The Ladder\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, a groundbreaking lesbian magazine edited by Lyon. She held a degree in journalism from UC Berkeley, and had worked in magazines and newspapers since the ’40s — but here, she published under the pseudonym Ann Ferguson.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958039\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958039\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/the-ladder-scaled-e1715901912416.jpg\" alt=\"Three black and white covers of magazines. The first shows an androgynous person, the second features two cats, and the third is a sketch of a couple, viewed from behind, watching a sunset.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"891\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Issues of ‘The Ladder,’ a magazine for lesbians that began publishing in 1956. \u003ccite>(The Internet Archive)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Lyon’s pen name wasn’t the only reflection of the fear-of-being-found-out that marked the era: Daughters of Bilitis’ name came from \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Songs_of_Bilitis#:~:text=The%20Songs%20of%20Bilitis%20(%2Fb,work%20is%20considered%20a%20pseudotranslation.\">Songs of Bilitis\u003c/a>, \u003c/em>a collection of lesbian love poems published in 1894 by Pierre Louÿs, who claimed the text was based on ancient Greek scripts. If anyone asked, the women could say that DOB was merely a club for women who were passionate about Greek poetry.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And in 1960, when the organization’s first conference was held in the penthouse of San Francisco’s \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hotel_Whitcomb\">Hotel Whitcomb\u003c/a>, all attendees were careful to wear skirts and dresses, lest they be accused of cross-dressing. (They were right to do so: SFPD’s “homosexual detail” showed up to see if anything nefarious was going on.) At one point, Martin and Lyon were so concerned about their office being raided and the DOB mailing list being exposed, they hid the document in the back of their station wagon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Still, DOB persisted, acting as a support and social group, and as a source of information for its members. Even in the organization’s earliest days, Martin carried herself with an unrivaled fortitude. In 1959, she attended a Mattachine Society convention in Denver to voice her dissatisfaction with the gay organization’s attitude towards women. Pointing out that the group was 99% male, Martin announced from the stage: “Lesbians are not satisfied to be auxiliary members or second-class homosexuals. One of Mattachine’s aims is that of sexual equality. May I suggest that you start with the lesbian?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Martin channeled that energy into her writing as well. Her first solo book, \u003ca href=\"https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/1142351\">\u003cem>Battered Wives\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, was published in 1976, becoming the first American book to discuss domestic violence in depth. By then, Martin was also the first out lesbian to have served on the National Organization of Women’s board of directors. Lyon was a fellow NOW member, which made them the first out lesbian couple to join.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he ’70s were a time of great change for Martin and Lyon. Daughters of Bilitis and \u003cem>The Ladder\u003c/em> both came to an unceremonious halt in 1970 because of intragroup politics and a couple of bad actors. Without either entity to pour their energy into, Martin and Lyon instead focused on writing \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman —\u003c/em> and this time, with incredible bravery, they used their real names. A year later came \u003cem>Lesbian Love and Liberation: The Yes Book of Sex, \u003c/em>a sex-positive guide that Martin and Lyon wrote to encourage tolerance, consent and frankness in the bedroom. The very first page came out guns blazing:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Yes, everyone has a right to a good sex life — including persons who have physical disabilities. Yes, sexuality is the most individualistic part of a person’s life. It is up to each individual to determine and then to assume responsibility for her or his own sexuality. Yes, sex is okay in its varying modes of expression — if people know what they are doing, feel good about it and don’t harm others.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Less than two years after \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman’\u003c/em>s release, and just months after \u003cem>Lesbian Love and Liberation\u003c/em> came out, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders finally stopped defining homosexuality as a mental illness.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>By 1979, the couple had established the \u003ca href=\"https://lyon-martin.org/\">Lyon-Martin Women’s Health Center\u003c/a> in San Francisco — a safe space for lesbian couples to receive healthcare. “We were trying to help lesbians find themselves,” Lyon said in 1989. “I mean, you can’t have a movement if you don’t have people that see that they’re worthwhile.” (Today, the clinic is also focused on serving trans, non-binary, gender non-conforming and intersex people.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13870056']Throughout the ’90s, as LGBTQ people increasingly found acceptance in America, Martin and Lyon celebrated how far they had come in a series of interviews and essays. While the \u003cem>San Francisco Examiner\u003c/em> referred to them as “the mothers of lesbian visibility,” the couple remained hilariously open about how long it took them to figure themselves out. In one 1992 interview, Martin joked about Lyon being a “straight lesbian for a while,” even after they were living together as a couple. Lyon laughed at the memory, admitting, “I was a little slow…”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2004, Martin and Lyon became the first same-sex couple to marry in San Francisco. At a mass wedding reception for 600 newlyweds on Feb. 23, 2004, Lyon said: “I think it’s important for a lot of the people that got married … but also for our friends who didn’t get married.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13958064\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13958064\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"A 2004 San Francisco marriage license.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"2362\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-800x738.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-1020x941.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-160x148.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-768x709.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-1536x1417.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-2048x1890.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/05/20240402_161657-1920x1771.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon’s first marriage certificate. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the San Francisco History Center)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The unions were frustratingly short-lived — within a month, the California Supreme Court had declared every same-sex marriage that had just taken place in San Francisco invalid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But four years later, Lyon and Martin proudly returned to City Hall and made things official once more, after the California Supreme Court’s landmark decision on marriage equality. The couple were literally first in line, just as they had been in 2004, and were married by then-Mayor Gavin Newsom — the man who had sanctioned their first wedding. They even wore the same \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GLBT_Historical_Society#/media/File:GLBTHistoryMuseum.WeddingPantsuits12_10.jpg\">mauve and turquoise suits\u003c/a> they had worn for their first ceremony. (Those outfits are now held in San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society’s permanent collection.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='pop_102855']It was an enormously meaningful day for the couple. When Martin died at the age of 87, less than three months after their wedding, Lyon said: “I am devastated, but I take some solace in knowing we were able to enjoy the ultimate rite of love and commitment before she passed.” Castro’s Pride flag and the flags at City Hall flew at half-mast in Martin’s honor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lyon soldiered on without her love for another 12 years. She died in 2020, aged 95, at home in San Francisco. On learning of the news, Gavin Newsom tweeted: “Phyllis — It was the honor of a lifetime to marry you & Del. Your courage changed the course of history.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It would be a gross understatement to say that Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon’s love, and their willingness to speak openly and often about it, impacted America’s view of same-sex unions. The couple spent their whole lives putting themselves in the spotlight — and sometimes grave danger — to raise awareness, and to help women still struggling with their own sexualities.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2017, Lyon reminded the world why she and Martin had lived their lives in service. “If you’ve got stuff you want to change, you have to get out and work on it,” she said. “You can’t just sit around and say ‘I wish this or that was different.’ You have to fight for it.”\u003c/p>\n\n","blocks":[],"excerpt":"Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, 'mothers of lesbian visibility,' spent their lives writing, organizing and celebrating their relationship.","status":"publish","parent":0,"modified":1725921001,"stats":{"hasAudio":false,"hasVideo":false,"hasChartOrMap":false,"iframeSrcs":[],"hasGoogleForm":false,"hasGallery":false,"hasHearkenModule":false,"hasPolis":false,"paragraphCount":24,"wordCount":1623},"headData":{"title":"Honoring Lesbian Icons Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon | KQED","description":"Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, 'mothers of lesbian visibility,' spent their lives writing, organizing and celebrating their relationship.","ogTitle":"The San Francisco Couple Whose Lifelong Love Changed America","ogDescription":"","ogImgId":"","twTitle":"The San Francisco Couple Whose Lifelong Love Changed America","twDescription":"","twImgId":"","socialTitle":"Honoring Lesbian Icons Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon%%page%% %%sep%% KQED","schema":{"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Article","headline":"The San Francisco Couple Whose Lifelong Love Changed America","datePublished":"2024-05-17T13:48:22-07:00","dateModified":"2024-09-09T15:30:01-07:00","image":"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/KQED-OG-Image@1x.png"}},"sticky":false,"templateType":"standard","featuredImageType":"standard","excludeFromSiteSearch":"Include","articleAge":"0","path":"/arts/13955066/del-martin-phyllis-lyon-lesbian-icons-lgbt-daughters-of-bilitis","audioTrackLength":null,"parsedContent":[{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class=\"utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__dropcapShortcode__dropcap\">W\u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>hen Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon co-authored \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> in 1972, the effect was seismic. Dedicated to “daughters throughout the world who are struggling with their identity,” the book began with a clear, unequivocal explanation:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>A Lesbian is a woman whose primary erotic, psychological, emotional and social interest is in a member of her own sex.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>That a book about lesbian culture would even require such a definition feels bizarre today. But the lifelong work of San Francisco couple Martin and Lyon is one of the reasons that so few people require such annotations now. \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> didn’t just demystify same-sex female relationships — it calmly and clearly sought to normalize them. At the time, few representations of lesbians existed outside of lurid pulp fiction or psychology textbooks. \u003cem>Lesbian/Woman\u003c/em> changed the conversation and reassured queer women everywhere that there was nothing wrong with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>","attributes":{"named":{},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"component","content":"","name":"aside","attributes":{"named":{"postid":"arts_13889944","label":""},"numeric":[]}},{"type":"contentString","content":"\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>When Martin and Lyon began their relationship in 1952, after two years of friendship, America was a terrifying place to be LGBTQ. Looking back in 1995, the couple wrote an essay recalling the “climate of fear, rejection and oppression” that marked the earliest days of their 56-year romance. “Lesbians and gay men, if found out,” the pair wrote, “were subject to reprisals from all quarters of society: employers, police, military, government, family and