Dine–In Guide Fall 2020
Street Eats: Embracing Homemade Meals in Quarantine
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Street Eats: Embracing Homemade Meals in Quarantine
Alexander Guy Cook, known to most as A.G. Cook, has been busy. The super-producer behind some of Charli XCX's biggest hits and founder of the experimental pop music collective PC Music has only sped up in quarantine. While the world reckoned with COVID–19 back in March, he produced Charli XCX's How I'm Feeling Now, in addition to co–producing Jonsi's Shiver. Then, just a month ago, he released his "debut album," an ambitious 7–disc, 2–hour record called 7G. The record was a revealing peek inside the music wiz's toolbox, albeit overwhelming upon first listen.
For some, high school relationships are picture–perfect nostalgia: tucked away in an IKEA frame, to be glanced at sporadically, and thought of even less. When they are reflected upon, this recollection embodies the feeling of spitting out a chewed–up wad of bubblegum—only remnants of a cloying sweetness and a sentimentality for childhood naivety linger.
It’s not easy to find love on Penn’s campus.
On Sept. 17, 1990, the Cocteau Twins released their sixth studio album, Heaven or Las Vegas. 30 years later, this collection of intricately–woven dreamscapes remains as innovative as ever. From Elizabeth Fraser's stunning–yet–unintelligible vocals to Robin Guthrie's transportive guitar work and Simon Raymonde's buttery bass, Heaven or Las Vegas' beauty has been a constant reference for many bands since its release. The trio's psychedelic, dreamy, all–encompassing style have influenced woozy bands like Beach House to heavier bands like Slowdive and Ride. Similarly, Heaven or Las Vegas remains as significant now as it was when it was released three decades ago.
2020 has been anything but peaceful. This turbulent year has seen everything from the COVID–19 pandemic to a series of worldwide protests. Even though the elections have seemingly taken a back seat until now—36 days out from election night in November—it's important to keep in mind the prescient social issues that have been at forefront of public conversation, particularly protests against systemic racism.
Close your eyes. Imagine, if you can, what the '90s were like. Not the literal day–to–day hustle and bustle, but the general mood. It's the middle of the night, and you're walking down a street. Sewer fumes obscure your vision, but it doesn't matter, because you haven't decided where you're walking to yet. Your baggy jeans and Nirvana tee are fashionably grimy, covered in tiny circular burns and beer stains. You take a long, last drag of your dying cigarette before stamping out the embers, extinguishing the final light of the dark alley you just turned down. Your headphones drown out the incessant rumblings of city life: ever so slowly, the hiss and crackle of vinyl pops fade in, washing out your ears like auditory smoke. "Give me a reason to love you," the lead singer croons over a wailing guitar solo.
Taylor Swift spent the first decade of her career building a brand of political apathy ensconced in a world of glittery guitars, red lipstick, and glamorously homey Fourth of July parties. She’s the kind of celebrity that stands in for an identity. I spent the middle six years of my life cataloging her every move on a Twitter account named after her cats, and I would introduce myself as a Swiftie first, Puerto Rican woman second, and eventually, a Democrat third.
On August 28th, 2020, the news of Chadwick Boseman’s tragic passing broke the heart of a young Black boy from Saint Louis, Missouri named Kian. Standing beside his Avengers action figures lined up against his garage door, he folded his arms over his chest to resemble Boseman’s famous “Wakanda Forever”; a memorial for the fallen King.
Few websites can claim to be the subject of all of the following: intense criticism on social media platforms, a Beyoncé lyric, privacy leaks and hacks, and a prolonged discussion on the treatment of sex workers.
Most of us remember singing and dancing along to songs such as “California Gurls," “Teenage Dream,” and “Last Friday Night” during middle school. In the past couple of years, "Roar" has turned into an empowering anthem. It is undeniable that Katy Perry has been a major player in the music scene from our childhoods until today.
BackIn February, Making Worlds, a progressive bookstore that amplifies under–represented voices, opened in West Philadelphia.
To occupy myself in this endless quarantine, I've taken to going on walks around my neighborhood. I always bring headphones with me, so I can bury myself deep into the sonic worlds of whatever albums I'm listening to. However, when British pop star Dua Lipa dropped Club Future Nostalgia, I avoided listening to it on my daily walks. Instead, I waited until it was late at night and everyone else in my house was asleep. Then, I lay on my couch in the dark in an attempt to recreate the atmosphere of a club: the space where the music was meant to be heard.
The upcoming Netflix film The Devil All the Time released its trailer two weeks ago, causing a buzz thanks to its star-studded cast and suspenseful, gothic tones. Though it boasts the talents of industry heavy—hitters like Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland, and Sebastian Stan, there is not a single person of color to be found amongst the cast list.
In 1963, author James Baldwin published The Fire Next Time, which helped set the scene for the upcoming turmoil in American race relations.
Major League Baseball has finally decided to begin changing how it’s run after decades of dealing with a racist history.
Like most teenagers sent home early from college, I spent a vast majority of the quarantine period staring down the end of a barrel with the promise of never–ending boredom. In an effort to curtail those feelings, I decided to participate in the long–standing Generation Z tradition of putting off all impending work in favor of starting a new show. Critical acclaim and numerous over–enthusiastic tirades from my friends pushed me to start Nickelodeon’s Avatar: The Last Airbender.
The music industry has felt the negative effects of the pandemic like many others. Countless artists had to cancel scheduled performances and production stalled while debuts and new releases were delayed. However, this hasn’t stopped the industry from trudging forward. In fact, artists have pushed the boundaries of their creativity and compassion in this unique moment. Through their music, they have shared their very own experienience. Some serve as reminders to be disciplined in keeping others and yourself safe. Some have dedicated their profits to charity and donations for crises related to COVID–19. Certainly, we wouldn’t have been able to survive this pandemic without our delivery service and medical professionals. But music has always helped us cope during stressful times, and this is no exception. Here is a playlist of some diamonds in the rough that wouldn’t have been created without the painful and collective experience of this pandemic.
On July 24, Billie Eilish broke what seemed to be a month–long Instagram hiatus. She posted a simple photo of herself standing on a dirty roof in her typical baggy sweats and oversized hoodie, the dark grey of her matching set stark against the cotton–candy sky. The caption was brief: “‘my future’ out thursday.”
Last August, during the thick of NSO, two white male students broke into another student’s apartment and refused to leave. The victim spoke on the condition of anonymity, but her story reveals a malignant societal truth that also infects campus life at Penn: white privilege exists unchecked.