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Throwback to September 2016, when the internet met the 13–year–old who challenged an entire audience—or hoes, as she referred to them—to a fight on Dr. Phil. We simultaneously were appalled and amused by this tough–faced, Floridian white–girl who stole cars and claimed her “Brooklyn” accent was "from the streets."
He’s topped the iTunes charts, headlined international tours, and collaborated with Ed Sheeran—but at the end of the day, Hoodie Allen is Steve Markowitz (W '10)—Penn grad who spent his freshman year at Hill house and still remembers team building in Management 100. On the 8th Floor of Huntsman Hall, Hoodie walked into a room of eager Penn students with a “Ben Franklin Quakers” purple t–shirt and a beaming smile. He was excited to be back on campus, and we were excited to have him.
College is supposed to be a time for trying new things and figuring out who you are, which for some of us serves as an invitation to finally buy that mahogany Gibson Les Paul you’ve been wanting to learn how to play ever since fourth grade. Then, you go to the Gibson website and see that the guitar of your dreams costs just shy of $3,000 and think maybe playing an instrument isn’t for you.
This coming Tuesday, November 13, SPEC–TRUM and Jazz & Grooves will collaborate to present headliner Tierra Whack and supporting acts Tobi Lou and Riz La Vie, performing at the Rotunda at 4014 Walnut Street. Two SPEC–affiliated groups: SPEC–TRUM, designed to represent undergraduate minorities, and Jazz & Grooves, known for bringing up–and–coming musical acts to campus, have previously hosted concerts by artists such as Young Thug, Aminé, Daniel Caesar, and Smino.
Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus are familiar names to anyone that’s been paying attention to new indie rock music over the last couple of years. But to most, they are part of what is now an often referred to trend of female artists finally rising to the kind of prominence they’ve always deserved. And while this new and more mainstream appreciation of rock music from women is something to be lauded and continued, the new Baker–Bridgers–Dacus supergroup, boygenius, points out the still underlying misogyny in these discussions of successful female musicianship.
Three Fridays ago, I went to a concert with a group of friends, having bought tickets together months in advance. My friend, in a panic, texted me beforehand urgently, “what are u wearing tonight?? I always worry irrationally about what to wear to concerts.” I responded by detailing the tried and true uniform I’ve adopted for concert–going: comfy jeans that don’t restrict mobility; a neutral tank top to keep cool amongst sweaty crowds; a jacket with secure, zippered pockets so my belongings don’t fly out; and most essentially, my platform converse sneakers for optimum dancing and the edge that the extra couple inches lend in a general–admission free–for–all.
We hear music everywhere: on the radio, on our way to class, at our events, and yes, in the TV shows comprising our Netflix sessions. But shows centered around music and the music industry – scripted, plotline-based shows (excluding reality TV programs a la “American Idol”) – were scarce until the massive success of “Glee” a decade ago (don’t worry, it got onto the list). Now, shows focused on the trials and tribulations of being a musician and making it in the industry have grown much more common. Highlighted below are some of the best TV shows about music out there. Happy binge-watching!
I've never seen a performance receive a standing ovation twice, but if there ever was a concert worthy of two, it would be Jordi Savall's The Routes of Slavery.
We all love sleep—it’s a pleasant escape from reality into the realm of dreams that allows you to get that much–needed rest, preparing you for the next day. However, us Penn students struggle to siesta sometimes, spending late nights in the dark corners of the Van Pelt basement or a secluded Huntsman GSR. After pulling an all–nighter for that math midterm, you are going to want to take a nap in the middle of the day. However, it might not be that easy to doze off—what can you do? Well, you can listen to soothing, relaxing music that will lull you into a deep slumber. The songs are quiet and harmonic—their genres don’t matter as long as they minimize the discord in your ears. This is the playlist for you:
During the 1970s, in New York City, the cradle of hip hop, movie theatres were playing Kung Fu flicks and porn. Theatres had been experiencing a surge in prices from Hollywood so they went ahead and bought raunchy material and Chinese films for a fraction of the price, and played them on repeat from dusk till dawn. This artform made its way into the subculture that gave birth to hip hop, and in the 1990s, with the emergence of Toonami on Cartoon Network, a similar international artistic infiltration took a hold of the people at the forefront of today’s rap scene.
Most musical groups at Penn restrict their music–making to rehearsals and the occasional gig or performance. Not Penn Sargam, one of America’s few college performing arts ensembles dedicated to South Asian fusion music. At their Open Jam and Chai Chat in collaboration with Penn Sangam last Thursday, Sargam expanded the discussion—and creation—to everyone.
Khalid has done it again. In his seven–track EP Suncity, which came out on October 19, he once again does what he does best: acting as the voice of the teenage generation. In a seemingly simplistic fashion, he magically makes teen recklessness and the problems they face, beautiful. Listening to his lyrics as a young adult, you somehow become nostalgic for this age even though you are in the midst of living it yourself. And Suncity, a "love letter" to El Paso, Khalid's hometown, makes you miss the Texas town even if you've never set foot there.
About a week before Parent Weekend, my mom texted me out of the blue: "Do you want to see Record Company at the Fillmore on 10/20?" With the football game and associated Penn Band halftime show on Friday night, she had two days in Philly with me and not much to do.
Be the Cowboy was my very first concert. And between the overwhelming red lights that covered the stage before the show started and the strong smell of marijuana coming from the guy behind me, I think it was a good first concert.
Shivers went down my spine as the sound of chopping scissors permeated the quiet theater; my friends and I scrunching our faces in disgust and waited with bated breath for the frightening music to end. I listened to the faint melodies with anticipation, nearly jumping out of my seat when the music swelled and the silence of the protagonist spoke volumes. The Witch, released in 2016, was an excellent film, filled with hidden meaning and horror that followed you long after you stopped watching. It was the first horror movie that I remember with a truly noticeable soundtrack. Although I didn’t remember the exact tune of the music played, I remember the feeling that it created in the pit of my stomach, one of fear and hesitation and excitement all at once.
The image of the average Penn student is that of someone who never really slows down, overextending themselves because of their passion. When speaking to Matt McCloskey, a jazz and rock guitarist in the Blutt College House Music Program, one realizes that this mentality extends to faculty as much as it does to students.
Lisa Stansfield’s concert last Wednesday was a look into a slightly awkward era we’re all nostalgic for even though none of us actually lived through it. I vaguely remember listening to one or two of her songs on my parents’ weirdly sensual '80s–'90s R&B playlists on a summer night. She’s an early '90s Rhythm and Blues artist with a powerful voice and a flair for songwriting. Her sound is a slightly folksier version of what you’d get if you pitch–shifted the vocals on a Barry White track up two octaves. Her music videos, like so many others from that time period, feature non–threatening people that look like they’re about to tell you not to do drugs, and make you wonder just what the hell was going on in the '90s. Suffice to say, before going into that concert, I didn’t expect much more than an awkward performance.
It seems to be a common trend among artists to release surprise albums these days, from Beyoncé to Eminem to The Weeknd. Courtesy of celebrated singer–songwriter Usher and record producer Zaytoven (both hailing from Atlanta), A was released October 12 after being announced the previous day. At eight tracks and just over 27 minutes in length, A follows summer records such as Pusha T’s Daytona and Kanye West’s Ye in attempting to emphasize quality and cohesiveness over quantity—but does it succeed? Let’s dive in.
As the atmosphere of Penn this past Thursday night slowly picked up, the members of Jazz & Grooves were especially busy. Known for bringing up–and–coming musical acts such as Daniel Caesar, Smino, and Kevin Abstract to campus, the SPEC–affiliated group was gearing up for their first show of the year—free for all Penn students. With a stage, sound, and lighting system all set up inside the house, the event was ready for opener DJ Haram and headliner Injury Reserve.
On Friday evening, October 19, Irvine Auditorium rang with the rustle of seating audience members and the reverberation of hushed whispers, all in anticipation for the Penn Symphony Orchestra. The lights dimmed, the stage filled. Orchestra players filed in in black formal attire, the strings front and center, the woodwind and brass instruments further away, and percussions and the harp at the back. Penn students weren't the only performers here. From gradate students, to Penn faculty, to the occasional professor, even high school students from the local Philadelphia area, considering just the members onstage, the orchestral community was a diverse team around one hundred strong.
Solutions by The State News