13November 25, 2015

Jazz. There is a certain amount of nostalgia attached to the word. Even though, to many, the genre seems to be fading into obscurity, becoming an acquired taste that only a select few care enough to cultivate, it also is something that exists fondly in the heart of many, hearkening back to days past when pulse of the kick drum and the thump of the bass was truly the heartbeat of any metropoli-tan city in America. Visions of

smoke-filled bars, men drinking scotch and sodas, and perhaps less than reputable goings-on hap-pening in the back enter my mind when I think of jazz. Perhaps this is just romantic thinking, but, nevertheless, this is the experi-ence that I seek every time I go to see live jazz. When I drove down to the Whatcom Jazz Music Centre (WJMAC) in Bellingham on October 28th to see a perfor-mance by Peter and Will Ander-son, two horn players heralding from New York, I did not figure I would get this romanticized ex-perience; however, what I did ex-perience pleasantly surprised me.

The concert was held at The Ma-jestic, a small intimate room in a multi-purpose event hall, not in the smoke-filled bar I had imag-ined; however, this in no means took away from the music. As I ducked into the venue, about fifteen minutes late, I was greeted by the warm and soothing sounds of the Miles Black Trio, who opened for the Anderson brothers. They played a diverse variety of music, with repertoire ranging from classics, to originals, to bossas and mambos. I must confess that I have a soft spot for piano trios; however, this was still some of the best live music I have heard in a long time. The musi-

cians effortlessly wove their solos together and took the audience on an exciting auditory journey. After the first hour of music, Miles Black called up the Ander-son brothers, along with guitarist Alex Wintz, and the two trios played their rendition of My Fun-ny Valentine. Afterwards, Black handed the stage over to the An-derson brothers and Wintz. The Miles Black Trio was a hard act to follow, but the Andersons were up to the challenge. Along with Wintz, they delivered a set filled with jazz renditions of classical music, small combo arrangements of new music, and a plethora of classic jazz tunes. The Anderson

brothers beautifully harmonized with one another, weaving their lines in and out with the other and adding their own unique twist on each song they performed. They were effortlessly supported by Wintz, who single-handedly ful-filled the role of an entire rhythm section from his guitar. Long story short, while my ex-perience at the WJMAC did not live up to my idealistic notion of what a jazz concert should be like, it did leave me with pleasant taste and more hope for the future of Jazz.

matthew wigmore

If you could deep fry anything, what would it be? “Ice cream” - Andrew Peterson

Cat eyes and crappy coffee

My search for a part-time job started in grade twelve. With my cat-eye glasses and collared shirts, I needed to have a job that I could boast about. I wanted to proudly say, “I’m a barista” and impress my indie acquaintances. Combat boots tied and top-knot in place, I applied, got an interview, and started working at a local coffee shop. I was expecting a chic coffee shop that had four menu items, a chalkboard, and local baked goods. The Kinfolk magazines, freshly grinded espresso, intricate latte art, and minimalist vibes in my mind were all replaced with clutter and greasy beans. I was not working at a downtown coffee shop but a small, family-owned one. I learned very quickly that no matter how many videos I watched of men with man buns sculpting the perfect foam, latte art proved to be an impossibility at my skill level. As anyone in customer ser-vice can attest, it was not easy to maintain a smiling face after an eight hour shift that started in the ungodly hours of the morn-ing. I learned that, amidst the diversity of walking mom groups

and elderly regulars, there were lovely people who made my shift better and also those who made me want to throw their non-fat-sugar-free-half-sweet-no-foam-caramel macchiato on their Lu-lulemon work-out clothes. One time, a friendly conversation with an elderly man ended with him hitting my butt with a newspaper on his way out. Another shocking aspect of customer service is the invisibil-ity of an employee. This typically happens at the till, where my exis-tence was frequently ignored and the customers would continue their explicit narration of Friday night’s events to their walking friends while I would stand wide eyed, debating whether to just walk away or take my revenge by making their drinks decaf. Despite all of this, a positive unexpected aspect of working at a coffee shop was the like-minded kinfolk who worked with me. Throughout the lulls of the evening and the after-dinner rushes, I worked with people that would laugh at my clumsy spill-ing of a venti Americano or my sad attempts at coffee puns. Even though I wasn’t the modern cof-fee shop worker, I appreciated the smile of a caring customer and the deep talks with my work friends. Working at this coffee shop was not glamorous, but glamor is overrated and should be replaced with light-hearted laughter.

I hannahgoertzon

trumpet by jdesignsp

On review:

I kreglonneberg

Peter and Will Anderson

14 November 25, 2015

If you could deep fry anything, what would it be? “Chicken” - Corianne Van Leeuwen

In late 2014, Azalea Banks’ Hot97 interview with Ebro and Rosen-berg generated a much-needed conservation of black cultural ap-propriation in music. According to Azalea Banks, contemporary society has made a large stride to reduce the significance of black-ness. Despite unwavering efforts to belittle blackness, black influ-ence is unquestionable. Bank’s commentary was specifically call-ing out Iggy Azalea (who she referred to as “Igloo Australia”), in which Banks exposed Aza-lea’s persistent pattern of cultural thievery. Banks also boldly de-clared that Azalea’s presence is trying to “smudge out” blackness. Banks tearfully discussed the black woman’s struggle to keep up identity in a world working to erase her. Sadly, Azalea accused Banks of being “hypersensitive.” Iggy Azalea follows a long line of white artists, like Miley Cyrus, Robin Thicke, and Macklemore, who capitalize on African-Amer-ican attributes and culture. Blacks who have similar or better quali-ties are often regarded as com-mon. Black women twerking in the early 2000s failed to ignite the

attention that Miley Cyrus did in the summer of 2013. Twerking and big behinds only became rel-evant on a white person. Aartjie (Sara) Baartman (1789—1815) is an African wom-an who was exhibited in France and England in the early nine-teenth century as “The Hotten-tot Venus.” European audiences jostled for a view of her physique, particularly her posterior, which they fetishized as the symbol of a mysterious “Hottentot” sexuality. Baartman embodied a primeval and African essence that con-trasted powerfully with civilized European bodies. In enacting dis-gust and marvel at her, the white gaze ennobled white beauty over the grotesque “beauty” of African savages. That is to say, it is cultural relativism that considered “Hot-tentot” to be beautiful. Venus was precisely what al-lowed the Europeans to mock Africans for finding Baartman beautiful. At the same time, Eu-ropeans congratulated themselves for cognitively mapping an ironic universe in which everything was a matter of perspective. Knowing the racial other’s fantastic tastes while retaining a sense of proper taste in the face of that knowl-edge was a core aspect of colo-nial fantasy. Such political uses of “Black” as a coalitional category places some pressure on the abil-ity to speak confidently about the

“black body,” insofar as Black may be as much about consciousness as embodiment. Forms of Black consciousness require a vision of historical memory, and Baart-man’s narrative provides a pow-erful symbol for the construction of black feminist identities in the present. The subsequent legacy of representations of black women’s sexuality—from Josephine Baker to Serena Williams to hip-hop videos—continues to refer to this persistent icon: “The Hottentot Venus.” In pop-culture’s conception, the “Black” identity is political in nature and, as such, not always best thought of as representing a “race.” Western culture’s fixation on black visibility in the recent years is a response to how black-ness is persistently seen as a prob-lem, rather than a component, of popular culture. The “problem” of black visibility is that it’s turning attention to what it means to see blackness and to the performative codes that reinforce, de-signify, and disrupt blackness’ meaning given by non-Blacks. A dialogue is needed to discuss what kind of fetish is the black body, and how do traditional logics of racial vis-ibility reproduce its ‘troubling’ presence across representational genres and pop cultural forms?

I judymilay

Belittling blacknessMisrepresentation of african-american in pop-culture

15November 25, 2015

If you could deep fry anything, what would it be? “Baked Lays” - Peter Woekel

Reverend Gaga

Angel uses alternate universe to show a very depressed dude how much the world needs him.

Intersecting storylines, January Jones doing something other than Mad Men, the British prime minister looking hot, Mr. Bean showing off his mad gift-wrapping skills.

Green creature tries to sabotage a whole town’s holiday celebration

I slide down chimneys and pretend this holiday is all about me, when really it’s all about someone else. You celebrate my birthday every year because I came to save you and I am awesome.

I just want you for my own. More than you will EVER know.

No crocodiles!! No rhinoceroses!!

I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday, but...I can’t stop staring at your face.

Which TWU prof wrote the Trinity Advent Plays?

How many weeks does the show run for?

Lady Gaga poster by Raccoon Nook featured on Bahance.net

Presents are coming early this year! The first 5 people with all correct answers get a free ticket to Trinity Advent Plays running Nov. 24-28. Email answers to samc@twu.ca by Thursday, November 26th.

During the summer of 2012, I went with my mother to see Lady Gaga perform at Rogers’ Arena. The stage was set with a large stone castle and a runway connecting one side to the other. When the anticipation was no longer bearable, Gaga emerged from her castle decked in a full suit of armor and riding a horse. Tension built as she made her way around the stage and disap-

peared back behind the stone wall. The walls began to separate as the words to “Born This Way” rang through the stadium and, re-vealed behind the castle walls, was nothing less than a giant inflat-able vagina. Gaga proceeded to groan and yell, disappear behind the birth canal, and finally unzip herself out of that vagina, march-ing out with all the purpose and class of a true diva. Throughout the rest of the eve-ning, she graced us with all man-ner of set and costume changes, ranging from a meat couch to a large bra complete with two ma-chine guns protruding from her breasts. At one point, her backup dancers plummeted head first into

meat grinders and spent the re-mainder of the song kicking their legs in the air. I expected to go to the show, revel with my mother in the absurdity of her antics, and gain a few new crazy stories for my friends. What I didn’t expect was that I would walk away with the overwhelming impression that Lady Gaga had become a pastor to our generation. Throughout the entire show, Gaga preached acceptance. She told her fans over and over again that who they are, exactly as they are, is beautiful. She encouraged them to embrace themselves, love themselves, and stand up for themselves in the face of adversity. I could not help but wonder

where, along the way, we as a church had lost this message. As beautiful as it was, why should people have to go to a Lady Gaga concert to be told that they are beautiful and that it is acceptable to love themselves? As Christians, do we not be-lieve that we are made in the image of God? We each carry a unique and extraordinary part of who He is and, as a result, have something special to offer the world. Every person we inter-act with is part of a living dem-onstration of the Creator of the Universe. Meanwhile, we are told over and over again that we are worth-less, disgusting, broken, and live

meaningless lives without the redemption of Jesus. We preach condemnation on those who are different from us and, in doing so, place our concept of righteous-ness before our concept of love. In losing our ability to love our-selves, we have lost the ability to love our neighbor. In the end, somewhere between the giant vagina and the gun bra, Lady Gaga hit home with a mes-sage that God has been trying to tell us and that churches have been failing to deliver. Reverend Gaga brought us the good news that we are beautiful.

I sarahwilliams