My good friends over at The Skinny in Edinburgh (the Scotland one) asked me to write about life in Charleston with tips for folk who may want to move here one day. Read it here!
Thursday, 19 May 2016
I rarely post my City Paper articles here these days — there are just far too many every week so I like to save myself from that tedious task. However, I'm pretty proud of this one. It was fun to research tape labels and speak to so many cool folks running groovy tape-oriented operations all around the world. I could have penned a book, and that wouldn't have even begun to cover all the interesting things happening with tapes, y'all. Here's a linkie dink to the piece here, and another linkie dink here to all the other music pieces I've penned for the CP.
Tuesday, 10 May 2016
This was a fun piece I did for SC Living Magazine on the Kazoobie Kazoos' Kazoo Museum, Factory, and Shop in Beaufort, SC - not far from Charleston so the perfect day trip. I took my boyfriend there for his birthday, and it made for some real silly fun. We giddily left with T-shirts, several kazoos, and two big ol' smiles. Also great for your Beaufort day trip: Mikki's Schoolhouse Diner about 10 minutes away from the kazoo museum, the Highway 21 Drive-In Theater, and - on the way to or from Beaufort from Charleston - the Old Sheldon Church ruins. And if you have even more time, a wander around Huntington Beach Park will leave you totally and utterly breathless - seriously it is like an otherworldly paradise. Oh how I heart the Lowcountry:)
Friday, 11 March 2016
The Sunday Times (UK): In the footsteps of Village giants + Off the beat track: surprising cities whose sounds are in tune with the big boys
Pretty excited to have gotten two pieces published in the Sunday Times last weekend. You can read 'em here or below.
In the footsteps of Village giants
Off the beat track: surprising cities whose sounds are in tune with the big boys
After feeling frustrated that I didn't have the time to make good use of my Garth interview in Charleston (the press conference and our one-one-one finished too late for me to turn around an article for the CCP that evening before I had to rush out and meet friends for Dr John at the Music Hall!). Besides, I'd already written a Garth essay, as did a coworker. So, rather than let the interview go to waste, I contacted the paper from the city of his next stop, Raleigh News Observer, a week or so ago, and they agreed to a small feature. Sweet:)
You can read it here.
Tuesday, 23 February 2016
My latest blog post for Creative Live is up, and it's all about what you should be doing on Instagram if you're a fashion seller or personality. You can view it here!
Friday, 19 February 2016
I do a lot of DIY blogging for sites like Creative Live, Shutterfly, eBay, and Goodwill. This week, I worked on a unicorn-themed nursery idea. I really wanted to do a paper mache unicorn head, but due to time constraints that idea will have to wait. I decided on a cloud mobile from which a unicorn and rainbows hang. I'll be sure to post a link when it goes live, but here's a fun little preview clip:
Friday, 12 February 2016
Today I met Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood at a press conference. I wrote this piece last week but forgot to "publish" it on the City Paper site before rushing out of town. And now that I'm writing a different Garth piece, this seems more fitting for the blog anyway.
Looking back, the music of Garth Brooks immediately makes me nostalgic for my high school days and early college years. This was in the mid-’90s, the last golden era of country radio — when Alan Jackson built a pyramid of cans in the pale moonlight, Patty Loveless tried to think about Elvis, and John Michael Montgomery went down to the Grundy County Auction. But, arguably, the king of ’90s country was none other than Garth Brooks, whose “Friends in Low Places” became the barroom anthem in every dive throughout the South and beyond.
I have a bunch of Garth-related memories that remain fond, if progressively vague. But my two favorite memories both date back to ’97, the last year that I could really stomach country radio — or any radio station for that matter. The first was a particularly late night in Clemson when a group of us piled in someone’s boat and drunkenly sailed off to a lakefront bar. It’s one of those what-was-I-thinking recollections many of us cringe over as adults. Thankfully, we lived to tell about it, and now I can enjoy remembering this: a symphony of teenage fools mercilessly screaming the words “I’ll be as high as that ivory tower” into the night at the tip-tops of our lungs. That was one helluva summer filled with fake IDs, Bud Light, and yes, the country croons of the likes of Garth.
Later that summer, I drove to New York to visit an ex, my first serious boyfriend. We'd just broken up, and our final goodbye would happen on the Big Lawn in the middle of Manhattan.
That night the singer played to nearly a million (for real) fans on a perfectly clear summer night. Brooks declared he was there to raise some hell, and I was there for essentially the same reason.
Some unforgettable guest performers were there too: Billy Joel, who created the first tape I ever bought (An Innocent Man) and Don McClean, whose “American Pie” was and remains my go-to Waffle House jukebox track.
I can’t recall exactly how every other detail of the concert went down — it was crowded and I was thirsty, I know that much — but the song that stood out the most was “The Dance.” Having gone through my very first serious breakup that summer, my teenage emotions got the best of me as Brooks sang those dramatic words that seared through my heart, “For a moment, all the world was right/ How was I to know, that you’d ever say goodbye/ And now, I'm glad I didn't know, the way it all would end, the way it all would go/ Our lives are better left to chance/ We could've missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the Dance”
Many years later, I moved to the Big Apple for a stint. And sometimes, during my frequent runs through Central Park, I’d look back on that show and wonder things like, where did we stand that night? And, how did I survive that drive from Carolina alone with no cell phone or digital GPS in existence? Who knew I’d wind up living here and with much different taste in music? No longer was I the naive teen trying to survive a puppy love breakup with the help of a country song.
But a country song sure don't hurt. That’s why, to this day, if there’s the right amount of beer involved and a karaoke machine in sight, I still don’t mind belting out a little song that reminds me of home. Blame it all my roots.