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We arrive through the woods, following the anemic light of glowsticks scattered along an unmarked trail, vaguely referring to a map we received a few hours ago. As the distant rumbling grows more intense, we begin to feel a pulse in the earth, a change in the air; all trepidation and inhibition dissipate as we are drawn to that thudding siren song.
Sept. 21 is a very special day for fans of the popular 70s pop/funk band Earth, Wind & Fire. The group’s highest charting song, “September”, has had listeners in a chokehold since it was first released in 1978. As the shakers and bass come to a close, the intro’s orchestration gives way to some groovy wind instrumentation leading to the high point of the song. Piano and funky electric guitar accompany lead vocalist Maurice White as he asks the fateful question: “Do you remember / The 21st night of September?” Sept. 21 has since been dubbed “Earth, Wind & Fire Day" by both casual and die–hard fans.
At exactly 8:30 p.m., the lights go off at the Wells Fargo Center. After a summer of waiting and anticipation, the night has arrived. Troye Sivan takes the stage, joined soon after by Charli xcx. It's the spectacle of a lifetime. For those of us here at Street who survived the concert and can parse through our memories of the evening, we offer up all of our reflections, ruminations, and reviews of the night.
A lush patchwork of green once welcomed visitors to the Arthur Ross Gallery in the Fisher Fine Arts Library. Bold brushstrokes stood firm against a fragmented sky, capturing the resilience of two pine trees whose branches stretched daringly into the expanse. They stood together, their limbs entwined as if each offered the other strength to rise higher. Their leaves, tinged with a hint of crispness, suggested a drought—a subtle nod to the hardships faced by the artist David Driskell in his formative years in Appalachia. These trees, like Driskell himself, embodied a defiant resilience, a strength echoed in his art and in his life’s work: the elevation of fellow Black artists.
Everyone hates movie musicals, right?
The Wharton student to world–tour artist pipeline may not be large, but for recent Penn Alum Inci Gürün (W ‘23), better known under her stage name “INJI,” following her passion is paying off.
Philadelphia chefs aren’t just serving up some of the city’s most delectable dishes, they’re doing it in style—tattooed style, that is. The Bear, a recent hit dramedy about the inner workings of a Chicago kitchen, reinforced the brooding “tattooed chef” archetype that populates kitchens. Traditional flash designs of chef’s knives, the deconstructed anatomy of a pig, and sensual prints of pin–up girls smatter the bodies of chefs in The Bear. Beyond the silver screen, however, tattoo culture permeates kitchens of all cuisines and in all cities. While tattoos aren’t always associated with an elaborate backstory and meaning for those who choose to commit to the long–term holy matrimony of skin and ink, they are, in a way, the physical badges collected by chefs throughout their time in the culinary industry.
What do Megan Thee Stallion and Britney Spears have in common? If you answered with a live ball python scarf, you’d be correct. When the biggest names in music gathered at UBS Arena in Elmont, New York for the 40th MTV Video Music Awards, it wasn’t just about who would take home a Moonman. Although Taylor Swift, Post Malone, and Sabrina Carpenter might have clinched the triple crown (the Video, Artist, and Song of the Year awards), it was the red carpet that captured the interest of viewers nationwide. There, the only rule is that there are none. Whether it’s messy references, gaudy glamor, or performance art, the VMA runway truly embraces an “anything goes” approach to an award show.
On Sept. 11, crowds swarmed to the SummerStage in Central Park to watch beabadoobee perform her “This Is How Tomorrow Moves” tour. Fans entered the pit area expecting a night they would never remember, eagerly waiting to sing along to “Death Bed (coffee for your head)” and “the perfect pair.” Fans also bridled with excitement to hear tracks from her headlining album This Is How Tomorrow Moves, an indie rock/pop project featuring co–founder of Def Jam Records and Grammy–award winning producer Rick Rubin. As fans began to settle in and beabadoobee hit the stage, however, the atmosphere quickly became negative.
I’m a born food lover. My most cherished memories revolve around the kitchen: sweating over sauce pots in my grandparents’ kitchen and watching my father crack oysters over a sink. Flakey, briny fish and raisins at Christmas, savory yi mein at birthdays. But for all my ardor for food, I’m a tragic cook.
The garage is a quintessential symbol of home–grown innovation. An extra appendage to the house, that if you simply make the inconvenient decision to park your car on the street, becomes the perfect “no–rent” storefront for young entrepreneurs. You, of course, have the classic example of Steve Jobs and Mark Wozniak, but even Barbie was a garage baby.
For Ria Ellendula (C’ 25), every minute is a moment. From tapping her gavel at weekly Undergraduate Assembly meetings to popping and locking on stage with Penn Masti, Ria’s life is always on the go. Despite her nonstop life, she has never forgotten the passion that defines her: to make a tangible impact at Penn and beyond.
If there’s one casualty of the digital age that millennials will never let us forget, it’s Blockbuster.
I splatter acrylic paints on the wall of my environmental science teacher’s classroom. I infuse fluorescent yellows to render a lightbulb, add small stipples with my round brush to develop the fluffy texture of a tree, and layer shades of gray, dusk orange, and violet sky to depict the smokestacks of a power plant. My first ever mural, now a glowing display of vibrant colors and botanical imagery, proudly serves as a visual aid for renewable energy at my old high school. Though my mural project may seem small, it helped me find a second home in the “Mural Capital of the World” during an uncertain and sometimes intimidating transitory period of my life. But I couldn’t imagine a better place to start my college journey.
If you live west of the Schuylkill River, you’ve (hopefully) heard of Abyssinia, the Ethiopian restaurant on 45th and Walnut streets. In 1983, Red Sea, named after the Indian Ocean inlet separating Eritrea from Saudi Arabia and Yemen, became the first Eri–Ethiopian restaurant to exist in Philadelphia. Twenty years later, Ethiopian immigrant Tedla Abraham took over the restaurant with his former business partner. Since renaming the restaurant and replacing the windows and floors in 1995, Abraham has been serving up farm–to–table Ethiopian dishes, paying homage to the country, people, and food that raised him.
Before ASCII snowflakes cascade down the screen behind him, Porter Robinson asks his audience a few questions in Helvetica. “Do you remember skinning your knee? Do you remember being bored in the summer? Do you remember the last time your mom held you?”
The Emmys, barring a select few moments, were unbelievably milquetoast. The Levys were cute. Shōgun, The Bear, and Baby Reindeer won big. Only Murders got screwed in unforgivable ways. But there were a couple things that made me slightly less cynical about the whole awards show business. I’d be remiss to not point out some historic firsts, like Liza Colón–Zayas becoming the first Latina woman to win in her category (Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series). The big surprise of the night was Hacks, an actual comedy, beating out The Bear for the Outstanding Comedy Series win. And, in an upset much more personal to me (I still have not seen Hacks, I’m sorry!), Lamorne Morris took home a long–overdue Emmy. It may be for his work in Fargo, but it’s built on the back of years of giving one of the best comedic performances on TV at the time in New Girl.
In the nursing community, the shoes a nurse wears have grown to be more defining than which outlandishly long shifts they’re scheduled to work week-to-week. Are you the Hoka–wearing, Stanley–cup–sipping bubbly day shift nurse? Or are you the baggy scrubs, Dansko–wearing, Monster drinking night shift intensive care unit nurse? Maybe you are the Clove–wearing, TikTok addicted new orientee on the med–surg floor? Nurses are constantly standing, lifting, and running throughout their shifts. They have strong opinions about safe nurse–to–patient ratios and healthcare reform, but even stronger opinions about what shoes will carry them through their shift.
For most of us, books were an integral part of our childhoods. School days centered on powering through tortuous textbooks; Sundays were spent perusing through Reader’s Digest with grandparents; summers were spent reading and rereading Harry Potter or Percy Jackson or Little Women.
There’s a good chance you’ve already violated the Temporary Standards and Procedures for Campus Events and Demonstrations this semester. You violated section five, clause A when you played “Von dutch” on your WONDERBOOM as you walked across Locust Walk to that 11:30 p.m. pregame; section three, clauses D, E, and G when your consulting club held an initiation event after–dark at The Button without registering with University Life Space and Events Management; section six, clause A, point two when you used spray chalk, instead of sticks, to advertise your a cappella show in front of the high rises.
Solutions by The State News