Saturday Brunch Special: Furiosa, Noah Kahan, Bleachers, Ambient, A Book Rec, and Golden Blue

A little bit of everything!

I’ve had a hell of a week when it comes to keeping myself entertained so that’s what this fast and loose Saturday edition of my weekly Friday newsletter is about.

Welcome to another edition of Friday Lunch Special Saturday Brunch Special. Once upon a time I was a girl who wrote long, winding, heartfelt captions on Instagram. Now I’m a girl who has Instagram blocked on my phone for most of the day, and I use it primarily for IRL connection, work, and sharing this newsletter. As you may know, I try to write every day. Most of the time what I’m writing isn’t in any state to see your inbox, but some of the time there are tidbits that I like. Those bits and bobs will live here, along with some recommendations and links. Friday Lunch Special is a little bit of everything. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Check out past issues here: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

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Furiosa

At the end of last week I realized I was overdue for a trip to the movies and decided to take myself to see Furiosa. I have been working with a new scheduling system to structure my days and I really wanted to pencil the movie in around 3pm. The only showing of Furiosa at 3PM was a 4DX screening, and I love a 4DX experience so I said WHY NOT. THROW CAUTION TO A WIND. YOU CAN HANDLE IT. Dear gentle reader, I was sore for 48 hours afterwards, but it was awesome and worth it to make seeing Furiosa a priority. The 4DX War Rig scenes were brutal. They felt like a rough rollercoaster and I felt genuine fear during them, which definitely added an element of intensity that Furiosa certainly didn’t need, but complimented it well. I won’t spoil it for you in the slightest, but you should go see it. Maybe not in 4DX, unless you love bruises. Which you may… if you’re seeing Furiosa. 

Noah Kahan

A couple of years ago as the weather got cold the Spotify algorithm served me Noah Kahan’s Stick Season on a platter as a suggestion and I really loved the song Everywhere, Everything. I looked him up and he had a medium large amount of Instagram followers. A friend of mine was playing in his band, and another acquaintance (at the time, now we’re buds) was shooting photos for him. I assumed that Noah Kahan was just a friend of a friend and I listened to the album as I sewed for the entirety of that winter. A year later, all at once I saw 30 or so people post his music on their instagram stories over the course of 24 hours. He was everywhere. I checked again and his followers were well over a million. I found out later that by the time I found him he was already soaring towards super fame. 

I saw his show this week at The Bridgestone Arena, where the Nashville Predators play, and I’m happy to report that he is charming and very much himself on stage. I find him compelling and earnest, during a year where I’ve been totally obsessed with earnestness. The show was lovely, and my best friend cradled my head on her shoulder during “Call Your Mom” as tears dripped down my face. 

Bleachers

Bleachers released a new record a couple of months ago. As a fan of Strange Desire I was pretty interested in it. When Modern Girl came out, the first single off of their new self titled album, I was initially not super into it. It only took one more listen for it to become a song I obsessed over for weeks. The album came out, and I gave it a listen and didn’t really revisit it much. The band released their tour dates, and had a stop at the Ryman (the old Grand Ole Opry), a pretty small venue for a band of their caliber. The thought of seeing a big rambunctious saxophone forward rock band in the Mother Church was very appealing. The first date sold out fast, so they added a second date. I scooped up the best ticket I could find.

I went to the show alone and if I wasn’t a fan before, I certainly am now. The energy of the show, and the community of seeing a Bleachers show was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Several people stopped me to tell me they liked my t-shirt, a white ringer with New York City on it, a la John Lennon who kind of sucked but looked very cool. I went to the show alone, but never felt it. Between the incredibly sweet lesbian high schoolers who sat in front of me and gave me a friendship bracelet, and the crowd screaming and dancing through the whole thing I was in perfect company. 

Ambient

Logickal, Gray Matter, and J. Childers at Babo 

What I love about ambient music is that sometimes there’s no real measure of time involved in it. It is often not punctuated by frequent starts and a stops, so you drift somewhere in between for much of the time. You’re in the liminal space the music creates, floating. When the song starts, it could last ten minutes or thirty, and there’s no way-finding points, no choruses or bridges, no way to know if you’re in the beginning, middle or end. 

In that suspension, I find that there’s always a task waiting for me. It’s like the music is asking me to stay with it. To trust it. It’s asking me to be present, and without fail what’s there is something beautiful and exciting if I just focus long enough to find it.

No One Left to Come Looking for You

On the way to the pool one afternoon this week, I stopped by the library to pick up my mountain of holds. All of them came available at once, and suddenly I had 11 books on deck. I had to decide which one was first, so I blindly reached into the bin pulled out No One Left to Come Looking for You by Sam Lipsyte. I swam for about an hour and spent the remainder of my time poolside digging into this mystery joyride through the punk scene of 1993 New York. I finished it later that evening. My husband, who recommended the book to me initially, saw me close the cover and said “Wasn’t that just fun?” and it really was. The book speaks a language all its own, which takes a second to get used to, but once you do it functions to keep you immersed in the world. It’s gritty, simple and impressive. It might be for you if you ever owned a Ramones shirt, you’ve listened to Blink 182 this calendar year, or you had the word “Rock” in your AIM username or your Myspace display name.

Golden Blue

There’s this thing that keeps getting discussed in the group chat I’m in about our friend Ashley’s band Golden Blue. Lots of people are tossing around the same question: “Is Golden Blue my favorite band?” and I think that says a hell of a lot about them. The reason they’re asking is because Golden Blue is really, really fucking good. I describe the music to people as “80’s inspired dream pop voiced by an angel who holds you while you cry in your sleep” before frantically texting over Changing, What You Need and Dreamer. It’s dream pop about death, and what’s left in the wreckage after someone you love dies. It’s POWERFUL. There’s a healthy portion of synth. There are Disney’s Tarzan drums. You might cry. Phil Collins would LOVE IT and CRY. It’s perfect to listen to as you drive, or as you do errands, or as you stare into the void. This is why, after a week of being out late each night, I found myself getting dressed and going to a show. 

Openers have hard jobs– often they’re the warm up act for the band that the crowd paid to see. More often than not, audiences just stand around chatting and sipping their drinks. But on a rare occasion there’s this beautiful thing that happens where an opener will turn the crowd in their favor. The band will play two or three songs and the crowd will be fully engaged, they’ll roar, they’re in. They’re buying what you’re selling. It’s one of the few moments where you get to see people become fans and it is pure magic. 

Last night Golden Blue was the opener and it only took one song to make the crowd lose their minds. By the middle of the set everyone was cheering and screaming so loudly that Ashley just looked out at everyone, bewildered with a giant smile on her face. I almost cried looking at her, which happens more often than you would think.

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