Let me introduce myself. I’m your new music writer. I write about the music that happens in this town. When I first got this gig my mind instantly filled with blurry visions of sweaty gonzo screeds scrawled on greasy napkins while hiding in the bathroom stall of some Cherokee street fire hazard while rapid fire machine gun drumbeats rattle the drywall. Then I realized I’m not that cool and the best I can manage is a paragraph of scholarly nonsense on how groundbreaking Mahler’s 6 sounds from the cheap seats of Powell Hall. Then I realized that that’s pretty cool too.
So I’ll do both. Even though I might be out of my depth cool-wise. I’ll fill your mind up with brutal accounts of spit-smeared shit rock as well as more-toity-than-hoity cultural events. It’s what I do.