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The Age of Trump : What's Next

On the eve of another decade, I find myself, surprisingly, more hopeful than I've been in a long time: maybe all the way back to Obama's victory in 2009. Despite the horrific things happening in our country, almost all with the support and urging of Trump and the Republican Party, when I sit back and take stock, and review history, I'm almost certain that not only will we get through this, but we will come out and enter a new golden age for the United States. It's not over. We're not doomed. We haven't lost. Greed, white supremacy, lies and hatred will not prevail. Will it be easy? No, and it never has been. Will Trump go quietly and gracefully, whether in 2020 or 2024 (or whenever)? No. He will likely fuel hatred and violence as he's done throughout his term, and really, his life. But ultimately, he will lose. As will McConnell, Graham, McCarthy and those hanging onto a past that really only exists in their venom. Sure, they've taped up and clung to an
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2008: The Worst in Music

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I'll need a little more time to compile my best of, but tossing together a list of the most overrated/biggest disappointments of 2008, is fairly easy. Keep in mind that many of these records fell into my own oblivion after only a few listens. And one thing I've learned is that records that at first sound terrible or contrived, can later be reborn. Nevertheless, here's my short list of records that either suck or just don't live up to the hype. Bon Iver For Emma, Forever Ago Oh how I tried. A few folks compared this record to Elliott Smith and Nick Drake. Good lord forgive those people. This is whiney, vapid crap. This man (I think Bon Iver's his "band" name) will be forgotten very soon. Yawn city. Fleet Foxes Fleet Foxes 2008's version of The Band? Seriously. Robbie Robertson must be having quite a laugh. I saw these greasers perform at the Treasure Island Music Festival and they sucked. This is generic, recycled basura. Vivian Girls Vivian Girls I onl
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Over the Wires : Brent Best

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I've been fortunate to see some pretty outstanding rock n' roll in my life. Although my tastes can sometimes steer towards the quieter songwriter types (Townes, Rouse, Buckner), when it comes to my love affair with music, there's still nothing that can touch an impassioned rock n' roll show. This is why I've squandered savings and spent chunks of paychecks to see live music for the greater part of the past 15+ years. When thinking of the most memorable shows, those shows where I walk out sweaty, raspy-voiced and feeling as if I saw and felt something beyond explanation, I revisit about 40 Springsteen shows, along with incredible late nights with Marah, Wilco, Arcade Fire, Centro-matic, The Gourds, Brakes and Apollo Sunshine, to name a few. And then there's the afternoon of March 18, 1999. I was in Austin for my first of six trips to the South by Southwest music conference. Now ten years later, those rainy few hours at Club de Ville in Austin, Texas stand firmly
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