Photo by Aidan Romick

Not Mad

From blink-182 to Lil Uzi Vert: 2016 is the Year of Post-Punk Rap

By Thomas Klepacz

A tweet which stuck with me at the time but that I cannot seem to find now shared my observation; in some variation it asked “am i crazy or does chief keef sound like blink­182 in macaroni time.” Tweets like this seem to share it as well. Writers and artists alike had been commenting on Keef’s punk appeal for some time then, but this seemed to be something totally different. This was not periodic Waka-­esque shouting and yelling; it was two minutes and forty-­nine seconds of vocal inflection from an 18-­year old rapper from Englewood, Illinois that could have come out of Tom Delonge’s throat in 2003.

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Culture, Perspective

Across the Bay: Navigating Post-Grad Gentrification

by Alastair Boone

As a result, West Oakland occupies a patchy transition. Many of the houses we found on Craigslist are large and lined with flowers (“the gardener costs $200 a month unless you’re willing to care for the roses yourself”). But when compared to their surroundings, these homes look painfully new — aggressive strongholds of the future amongst the long surviving past. None come without a tall metal fence, and as we pull up outside for showings, neighbors sitting on their porches stare. Four white women in a lime green Camry. Can you blame them? In school, we talked about food deserts and white flight and the harmful effects of gentrification on low-income East Bay residents. We did not talk about what to do or how to behave when you find that you may be part of the problem.

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Change, Perspective

A Mourning We’ve Become All Too Familiar With: A Meditation on a Crumbling World

by KiNG, Photo by Steve Russell/Toronto Star

I almost didn’t know what to write. I keep fearing I’ll wake up and the words will disappear from my body out of grief. Most days, I don’t know what to do. Most days, I try to figure out what to do. But I am going to take this moment to speak transparently and say: This morning, I woke up to another black man murdered by the police and it seemed as though God decided to go missing. I am not okay because none of this is okay. There is no other name for this than the black condition: to maintain faith when everything points towards doubt.

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