E. Amato's Blog: Zestyverse, page 2

Groove Theories: Top 50 Albums of 2015

by Sean Morris
In more ways than one, 2015 was a steady stream of “what the fuck?” moments. My favorite kinds of western civilization music appeal to my inner bitch pop afficionado, ignorap historian, college radio snob, and R&B junkie. All of these preferences have never been equally catered to in the same calendar year… until now.
The overriding themes of this weird ass year in music were twofold. First, between Animal Collective solo projects and emo trap superstars, lyricism has declared war on consonants and is winning handily. This development has caused me to appreciate instrumentation and production techniques more. It has also led to more questionable high-ranking entries than usual. Second, whether because of declining sales or streaming services or torrent sites or all three, more musicians than ever are either unable or unwilling to create consistent and cohesive full length listening experiences. Even the most high profile Best Of lists this year feature critically acclaimed albums with undeniable dull spots if not out and out clunkers.
This list also doubles as a document of the realignment that my music tastes go through every few years. Who knows which genre is going to emerge triumphant this time… let’s get straight to it.
#50 Cheatahs - Mythologies
#49 Da Mafia 6ix - Watch What U Wish...
#48 Adele - 25 #47 Rapper Big Pooh & Nottz - Home Sweet Home
#46 JB Dunckel - Summer Soundtrack
#45 The Black Ryder - The Door Behind the Door #44 Open Mike Eagle - A Special Episode Of #43 MNDR & Sweet Valley - Dance 4 A Dollar #42 Cold Beat - Into the Air #41 Lyle Horowitz - Psychotic Breaks #40 Django Django - Born Under Saturn #39 Trails and Ways - Pathology #38 Big Sean - Dark Sky Paradise
...don't ask. #37 Big Grams #36 Sus Boyz - Too Sus 4 TV  #35 JR JR #34 Beirut - No No No
#33 Crocodiles - Boys #32 Scarface - Deeply Rooted #31 Tame Impala - Currents #30 The Suffers - Make Some Room #29 Programm - Like the Sun EP #28 Juicy J - Blue Dream and Lean 2 #27 Purity Ring - Another Eternity #26 Panda Bear - Crosswords EP #25 Thee Oh Sees - Mutilator Defeated At Last
For their 4700th release, Thee Oh Sees lead a rigorous rock history cram session. In half an hour you get woozy psychedelics, brittle punk, and even a little detour into country. The mixes are even less grubby than last year’s Drop, which could be a result of John Dwyer’s move from Northern to Southern California. The reconfigured lineup keeps getting better at translating the gleeful fury of their live shows to a studio setting. Mutilator’s final third is an essential new classic rock playlist unto itself. #24 Unknown Mortal Orchestra - Multi-Love
Multi-Love rarely moves faster than a saunter yet remains lively all the way through. While their contemporaries venture deeper into the realm of chintzy 80s synths, UMO genuflects before 70s funk organs. Blue eyed soul goes dance punk on “Can’t Keep Checking My Phone,” and “Necessary Evil” takes yacht rock on an acid trip. Who would’ve thought “jam band makes a soft rock album” would turn out to be a bright idea? #23 Run the Jewels - Meow the Jewels
Better than it has any right to be, this crowdfunding joke not only made it to fruition but also attracted Just Blaze, Portishead’s Geoff Barrow, Prince Paul, and more. Meow the Jewels owes much of its success to El-P & Killer Mike’s still blistering and timely RTJ2 lyrics, which clearly sound incredible over anything. The cat sound remixes, at turns searing and silly, are inexplicably as brash as the originals, and in some cases even more daring. Snoop Dogg singing the Meow Mix jingle alone is worth the price of admission.  #22 Jodeci - The Past, The Present, The Future
The Bad Boys of kneepad R&B celebrated the twentieth anniversary of 
still sensational The Show, The After-Party, The Hotel by unexpectedly releasing the long-awaited/long-forgotten-about follow up. Timbaland dropped his pop auteur facade long enough to return to his raunchy roots as Devante Swing’s co-pilot. K-Ci’s voice wears the hint of gravel well (Jo-Jo not so much). With the exception of the contemporary pandering on “Too Hot” and the B.O.B. cameo on “Nobody Wins,” these tracks are the quintessence of 90s retro. Only thing missing is some Mr. Dalvin ad-libs. #21 The Game - The Documentary 2
On The Game’s best album since… wait a minute… no 50 Cent… only two skippable tracks instead of three… this IS The Game’s best album! #MeatprintPapi wisely stays out of the way of his insane guest list, from Q-Tip & Premier to Kendrick & Kanye. Even the incessant name dropping and Rich Little-esque impersonations of great rappers past and present have grown endearing. Flipping everything from Screamin' Jay Hawkins to Phantogram, the ridiculously well-produced and well-sequenced Documentary 2 remains one of the most pleasant surprises of 2015. #20 Gangsta Boo - Candy, Diamonds & Pills
The Hypnotize Minds Renaissance went into hyperdrive in 2015, with eight new albums from representatives of the former Memphis rap enterprise. Lola Mitchell helmed the strongest Three 6 Mafia-related project for the second year in a row. Candy, Diamonds & Pills’ biggest revelation is its total lack of smut, especially coming from a rapper well known for filthy quotables (happy 15th anniversary to “Tongue Ring”). Gangsta Boo simultaneously struck while the “Love Again” iron was hot and ignored the iron altogether, preferring to reinforce her legacy as the First Lady of Crunk with grimy beats and twisted rhymes. #19 Sean Price - Songs in the Key of Price
2015 was hip-hop’s most commercially and culturally relevant year so far this decade, for better and for worse. At the top of the “worse” column, even over that C-minus rap beef, were the losses of Three 6 Mafia’s resident Pareseltongue Koopsta Knicca and the mighty Bar-barian also known as Ruck. The self-proclaimed Brokest Rapper You Know slap-boxed competitors one last time with his trademark barrage of stinging punchlines and witty reminders that he didn’t vote for Obama. The Duck Down version of Songs in the Key of Price runs an hour, while the “we couldn’t get all the samples cleared” version lasts a mere sixteen minutes. Both are spectacular farewells to an unbridled diss-master. P! #18 Madonna - The Rebel Heart Sessions
Today’s allegedly provocative entertainers keep ripping pages out of Madonna’s 80’s playbook yet not a one of them has dared to emulate the strip hop disco dominatrix of 1992’s Erotica. The Queen Mother of Pop realized she had to do it herself and recorded several dozen homages to her raunchiest persona. "Artistic crepe" connoisseurs pored over the praise-worthy folktronica demos that leaked three months in advance. Even the official version of Rebel Heart, plagued with overproduction and misguided song transitions, contains a solid hour of ratchet triumphs and Madonna's best overwrought ballads since Music. Put them together and you get a riveting journey through guilt, pleasure, and an unapologetic bitch’s enduring vitality.
#17 Protomartyr - The Agent Intellect

From Danny Brown to (Dale Earnhardt) Jr Jr, Detroit has been producing a lot of flame emoji artists this decade. Post-punk quartet Protomartyr’s revelatory third album is teeming with vicious strumming, tempestuous drumming, and aloof grumbling. Joe Casey’s lyrics are steeped in references to Christian mythology and dive bar culture, devoting equal amounts of reverence and disdain towards both. Whether you identify with the cul-de-sac Satans or the saints about to get stoned in both senses of the word, The Agent Intellect is a staggering listen, and an excellent addition to the modern Motor City playlist.

#16 Hermitude - Dark Night Sweet Light

Hermitude’s fifth full-length wrests the spotlight back from Flume, who upstaged the Australian duo’s entire previous album with one irresistible remix. Motivational EDM anthems flow seamlessly into smooth R&B seductions, and nasty bass drop bangers double as advertisers’ wet dreams. Hermitage excises the irritating parts of multiple trendy genres and expertly blends the leftovers. Dark Night Sweet Light is officially the chillstep gold standard.

#15 Them Are Us Too - Remain

Putting the “new” back into “Best New Artist,” Them Are Us Too’s debut is the hottest thing to come out of UC Santa Cruz since all the KZSC DJs I crushed on graduated. Cash Askew’s haunting guitar work mesmerizes, and Kennedy Ashlyn’s soprano is as uplifting and heartbreaking as her percussion is savage. Drawing inspiration from shoegaze and slowcore, Remain’s nightmare pop revels in gloomy synths and dejected drum patterns. These maudlin foundations often give way to aching beauty such as “False Moon,” one of the best songs anyone released in any genre this year.

#14 Teen Daze - Morning World

Canadian producer Jamison’s previous projects under the Teen Daze moniker were full-fledged chillwave affairs, reaching an absorbing apogee with 2013’s Glacier. Recorded and mixed in just ten days, Morning World is an idyllic sunrise soundtrack that owes more to orchestral folk and space rock than downtempo electronica. Branching out into string arrangements and peppy tempos has resulted in yet another impressive maturation. With Morning World, Teen Daze reveals himself to be a habitual game stepper-upper.
 
#13 Neon Indian - VEGA INT'L Night School

Neon Indian awoke from his four year coma only to discover that the 80’s retro bandwagon he’d helped establish had been toppled over, shoved out to sea, and transformed into a yacht. Unfazed, he sidles past misguided tributes to Dire Straits, Styx, and Debbie Gibson to resume his post as the reconfigured Nostalgiamobile’s figurehead. VEGA INT’L Night School takes Psychic Chasms’ sun dappled distortion to nightclubs, dark alleys, and boudoirs. Working with a live band equally well-versed in Paisley Park and The Dangerous Crew, Alan Palomo creates his giddiest, sexiest, and funkiest work to date.

#12 Best Coast - California Nights

After months of listening to California Nights out of obligation, I saw Best Coast sell the shit out of these nouveau grunge tunes to an adoring audience that was even younger than the previous eight times that I saw them. Bethany Cosentino is still surf rock’s Mary J. Blige, only now she’s closer to No More Drama than My Life. The apathetic journal entries, inviting “ooh”s, and deceptively sunny melodies are still there, just swaddled in much more muscular riffs and polished mixes. Cosentino and Bobb Bruno’s successful yet bittersweet transition from indie sensations to alternative rock stars means catering less to a fan base that remains loyal and more to a fan base that remains the same age. As Ol’ Dirty Bastard would put it, California Nights is for the chilbren.

#11 Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz

The second entry in the Flaming Lips The Terror Cinematic Universe focuses on an insulated creature who survives on a diet of marijuana, viscous glittery liquids, and her own tears. Thumping techno lead single “Dooo It!” and its unicorn bukkake video are red herrings. Miley Cyrus and Her Dead Petz is a messy, weepy psychedelic fucktronica opus. Self-funded and then given away à la Run the Jewels, Dead Petz corrects the many missteps of the endearing yet vacuous Bangerz, including Big Sean going from cringeworthy to a career-best cameo. Her pipes more penetrating than ever, Cyrus trills, snarls, and screams meditations on the fragile mortality of ecosystems, romantic entanglements, and yes, a blowfish. The Lips boldly rework a couple Terror interludes, and Orel Yoel and Mike Will Made It pull off amazing straightforward R&B beats. I don’t know how Miley goes back to contractually obligated pop records after this.

#10 Compton: A Soundtrack By Dr. Dre

Inspired by his surging protege and the immensely entertaining N.W.A. biopic, ignorap’s pristine perfectionist finally completed his third album. Compton is the first Dr. Dre effort with accurate production credits (y’all still don’t think he did Doggystyle by himself do you?) and no momentum-killing features (*cough* Hittman). Considering it's by the man who helped turn gangsta rap into a pop juggernaut, Compton is also surprisingly radio unfriendly. The majority of the content is preoccupied with homicide - committing it, witnessing it, or lamenting its proliferation. Thankfully, none of it is played for laughs. Kendrick Lamar goes for broke; Anderson Paak crows through multiple A Star is Born moments; Snoop Dogg & Xzibit spit like they give a damn again; The Game gets a lean on your car horn anthem; Eminem floats overhead spouting aggro Micro Machines ad copy. Reigning them all in is the finest rapper to never write a rhyme, his commanding baritone and pliable delivery in top form. Andre Young may need Extendable Ears to keep his ears to the streets, but they’re working better than ever.

#9 Bhi Bhiman - Rhythm & Reason

Dear Every Aspiring MC: being a great lyricist doesn’t mean being able to rapidly spout strings of homonyms in one breath. Bhi Bhiman’s Rhythm & Reason features few sonic or thematic ties to hip-hop, yet his couplets inhabit the same fatalistic, sarcastic, and insightful domain as the genre’s strongest storytellers. Disillusioned expats, opportunistic bigots, drug addled radicals, and enhanced interrogators traipse across Bhiman’s reggae and soul-inflected landscape. His powerful tenor sparkles as he portrays these variegated voices of dissent. Rhythm & Reason is a rollicking, eerie, and passionate work that exemplifies folk rock’s full potential.

#8 Alabama Shakes - Sound & Color

Alabama Shakes is the first of three acts that barely registered on my radar in 2012 and then inexplicably made it to The Big Show this year. There’s nothing wrong with Boys & Girls, but everything about Sound & Color is grittier, sexier, spookier… exponentially better all around. Brittany Howard turns on a dime from tender lover to gruff blusterer. The foursome’s synchronicity is electric, seamlessly shifting back and forth from hushed to thunderous tones. Alabama Shakes lovingly wrap their limbs and instruments around all the South’s signature sounds, from scorching blues to breezy playalistic pimp themes. Sound & Color is one of new classic rock’s most crucial entries to date.

#7 pizza boy. - this is pizza boy.

Last year the only rapper to make a better song than pizza boy. was Jay Electronica. Jay Electronica did not release a song this year. ICYMI, and based on his Soundcloud play counts YMI, pizza boy. is a Taco Bell & masturbation addict-cum-humblebrag wordplay wizard. this is pizza boy. is his sophomore effort, third if you count the futility EP, which you should. His most subversive acts are as follows: daring to rhyme with excellent grammar in an era of run-on sentence ramblers; intelligently analyzing his desires and shortcomings with mischievous humor; making prank calls in Bill Cosby’s voice. This is his third appearance on my 2015 Albums list along with Sus Boyz, his collaboration project with Shampoo Papi, and a stunning feature on Ly Moula’s Psychotic Breaks. Widespread and possibly even thin-spread success and attention unfairly continues to elude him. If you don’t support him, Melvin Burch will win, and he will order you to drink a cumshot through a straw. Quit playing and listen now.

#6 Jamie xx - In Colour

If you told me that one of the best rap songs of the year would contain the line “she gon get on top of the dick and she gon squish it like squish,” I wouldn’t believe you. But then, I’m still perplexed as to how a member of a group known for making 40 minute ambient interludes created such a diverse, thoughtful, and superbly sequenced ode to electronica’s illustrious history. The glowsticks, the grime, the EmbracEs from strangErs with as many capital Es as thEy can afford… Jamie xx covers it all and then some. In Colour also stands as one of the few EDM albums to explicitly and sweetly convey its mission statement: “I go to loud places to search for someone to be quiet with.” Not even Young Thug following it up with “I’ma ride in that pussy like a stroller” can break that sentimental spell.

#5 Courtney Barnett - Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit

My inner Conspiracy Brother believes it’s not a coincidence that Sometimes I Sit and Think… dropped nine days after Tame Impala released their Chemical Brothers-meets-REO Speedwagon lead single. Australia’s rock scene needed a new standard bearer and quick. Courtney Barnett left her twangy pair of EPs in the dust with this dazzling grunge/blues/punk conglomeration. The deadpan, half-spoken delivery of minuscule details and self-deprecatory slogans resonates deeply, yet none of the lyrics are as intimate or alluring as what CB does with her guitar. Whether gently strumming or vehemently shredding, Barnett’s volatile fingers are even more expressive than her whispers and hollers. CB combines a rousing and arousing racket with remarkably candid declarations of yearning and sorrow.

#4 Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A Butterfly

I am one of the dozen people on the planet non-plussed by the “Murs makes a Drake album” that has already been declared this generation's Illmatic (*shudders*). This guaranteed that I would enjoy the follow-up a lot more, I just didn’t expect it would be this much. The lion's share of the credit goes to the impeccable production courtesy of Sounwave, Flying Lotus, Thundercat, Kamasi Washington, Pharrell Williams, Knxwledge, Terrace Martin, Boi 1da, Tae Beast, it goes on like this. To Pimp A Butterfly singlehandedly introduces a generation raised on trap pop and emo hop to - gasp! - live instrumentation in hip-hop. Kendrick is game to tackle every jazz spazz-out and G-funk symphonic movement thrown his way. As the best MC mainstream hip-hop currently has to offer, Lamar is working without a net here. There are ridiculous voices, somber slam poetry platitudes, stream of consciousness nonsense, religious parables, black pride diatribes, shame on a nigga scenarios, and more. If it weren’t for that unnecessary mock 2Pac interview, TPAB would be a masterpiece. The Realest Negus Alive will have to settle for a classic.

#3 Wax Idols - American Tragic

In a year overflowing with multiple generations of pop divas audaciously staking their respective claims, a DIY glam rocker out-popped them all. On American Tragic, singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist/general badass Hether Fortune defiantly displays her scars as proudly as she does her compositional prowess. She plays everything you hear on this record except for one instrument, which is taken care of by Rachel “imagine if Furiosa was a drumming virtuoso” Travers. “Lonely You” is the glorious goth lead-in, but that’s as close as Wax Idols gets to recreating the chilling magic of Discipline + Desire. There is no comparing the two albums; Tragic is an entirely different beast. Moreover, the beast turns out to be in good spirits.

“Deborah” is a delirious graveyard party, and “Goodbye Baby” is a relationship kiss-off that could soundtrack Waiting to Exhale’s most iconic scene. “Glisten/Severely Yours/At Any Moment” is the astounding one-two-three punch that tells the story (or at least the story in my imagination) of the cover photo. Fortune is mired in the murkiness of toxic love, spies a light above her head and clambers towards it. She is pulled the rest of the way up by her own libido “like some tethered angel, lifted straight from the ground by the fingers in my mouth.” She is ecstatic upon her arrival but hesitates, knowing from experience that blissful luminescence can be just as treacherous as the shadows she just escaped.

#2 Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper

Ladies and gentlemen, the best electronic and best hip-hop producer of 2015. Mr. Noah Lennox, Animal Collective’s resident lead percussionist and seraphim, takes his sample-heavy song structures to dizzying new heights. Though the 1990s finally became the prevailing choice for retro flourishes this year, Panda Bear was the only artist brave enough to re-envision boom bap for the 21st Century. When you impress the Chocolate Boy Wonder, you know you’re on the right track. Though trippy progtronica remains Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper’s ultimate goal, sturdy drum loops provide a much needed bridge across a generation gap that can’t even agree about Common’s verse on Kanye West’s “Get ‘Em High.” PBVSGR intricate tracks are far too captivating on their own for anyone to spit bars over, though I’d love to see Chance the Rapper or Kendrick or pizza boy. or anyone but Jimmy From Degrassi try.

The album’s gooey center - from “Butcher Baker Candlestick Maker” to “Lonely Wanderer” - is the most creative AC-related work since the morbid fantasies of Avey Tare’s Down There. Synthesizers burble and splash like a swamp located in the mouth of a volcano. “Dark clouds descended again and a shadow moves in,” our hero narrates with jagged echo chamber chirps. As soon as the Supernatural Anesthetist comes, the agitation dissipates, and Panda Bear earns wings and harp. “And you won’t come back, you can’t come back to it” is his plaintive hymn as Debussy and a demonic thrum hurtle him to the next destination.

#1 Chelsea Wolfe - Abyss

On a warm, clear summer day in 1995, I entered the mall to buy a copy of Brotha Lynch Hung’s Season of da Siccness . When I walked outside again, the afternoon sky had turned jet black. Within minutes of my first listen through, it didn’t feel like mere coincidence. Twenty summers later, another Sacramento-born musician duplicated this ominous feat, only this time dark clouds did not gather overhead. They gathered inside my head.

“Even sometimes when things are going really well and calm, I’ll have crazy nightmares. It doesn’t really make any sense. The mind is a wild place.” 
As album openers go, Chelsea Wolfe’s “Carrion Flowers” is one for the record books. A horrific slice and dice synth motif lurches to life, then stalls, and repeats until- devastation. Punishing triple time pulsations and churning strings signify sinister machinery whirring to life, its purpose as yet uncertain. A high voice calls out “hold on to the pain,” as both consolation and grave warning. A macabre, flippant amalgamation of industrial and Chicago drill, “Carrion Flowers” is a masterstroke. Nothing else on Abyss tops it, nor does it need to. The mood is set, and the descent continues.
“Waking up… you can move your body and your eyes are open, but there are figures and people from your dreams still present in the room.” 
Wolfe cites her experiences with sleep paralysis as the reason for Abyss sounding even more nightmarish than her usual recordings. These eleven operatic folk metal songs do more than recount memories of phantoms gliding through bedroom walls; they vividly depict the artist’s personal vision of a hell dimension.
Many easily identifiable instruments and chord progressions represent ambiguous intentions. The clatter of grinding guitars evokes gateways to torture chambers. A whining viola can either be the despairing cry of a lost soul, or an approaching swarm of demons. Pensive acoustic passages are welcome respites from the internal turmoil… or are they shape-shifting hallucinations, twisting pleasant memories into relived trauma? Wolfe’s warm soprano acts as a beacon, though this guardian angel may be leading her charges towards unfathomable peril.
Emboldened by extraordinary bandmates and St. Vincent producer John Congleton, Chelsea Wolfe engages in some visionary netherworld-building. Abyss isn’t just the Best Album of 2015, it is one of the finest releases so far this decade.
Sweet dreams.



Zestyverse's resident Music Geek Sean Morris is an SF Bay Area native with a photographic memory and encyclopedic knowledge of popular culture. He is a graduate of UCLA's School of Theater, Film, and Television, a former Los Angeles Slam Team member, part of the collective Art 4 A Democratic Society, and a music blogger for The Owl Mag. Find him on Twitter, SoundCloud, and YouTube.

Zesty's Indie Gift Guide for 2015!

It's holiday time and that means giving!

Zesty loves to support independent creatives and craftspeople, and we think you do, too. Because the internet, we're thinking #localisglobal. We've curated a group of grassroots up and coming designers and craftspeople who can send your gifts anywhere in the world!

When you purchase their original creative work, you are supporting entrepreneurs, artists and gamechangers. Feel good about where you drop your dollars this holiday season - take a click!

CC Star

CC Star is in love with color! The enamel work is flawless and the designs make you smile. Artist and jewelry maker Celeste Christie is behind this shop and her sense of joy and attention to detail are in every handmade piece - she makes perfection look easy! This year CC Star has
From December 1-25, check in daily for CC Star's ADVENT SALE! Each day, one item will be discounted 25%! Like the CC Star Facebook Page to get notified of sale items.

On Etsy: CC Star


FreezeRay Press

The brainchild of poet-preneur Rob Sturma, FreezeRay Press is the place to go for all your pop culture poetry needs. St. Vincent-inspired poems - they got you. Latest release - Again I Wait to Pull Apart - is edited by the brilliant Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib.

First 100 orders get a custom FreezeRay Press guitar pick! Be quick about it!

Books are forever gifts that grow and get better with time - put some on your list!

FreezeRay Press website



House of Divinity

Longtime one of my favorite jewelry makers, Araceli Silva combines an elegant design sense with a holistic approach to life. Her jewelry is eloquent - it perfectly describes its wearer. I get compliments every time I wear one of her designs. The new lotus necklace is on my list!

If you are SoCal local, HoD is taking part in this open studios event in Boyle Heights the 16th, 17th, 21st, 22nd. You can try things on and meet her!

On Etsy: House of Divinity 


Planet Lucid 
Designer Ryan Spence has been raising his game for a while now. The Brooklyn Faces collection is it for me -- great design fueled by a grounded sense of community. For the guys on your list, the camo t is what to give. I'm all about the pencil skirt, and I'm sure no one on your list can resist a tote bag.

Planet Lucid website



Upper Metal Class
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Upper Metal Class knows sleek is sexy. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings designed with intention and beautifully crafted in your choice of metals. This great lookbook gives you a sense of designer T. Ngu's inspirations and style - her designs accent you, they let you come through, they don't demand who you are.

Last day for holiday orders to get there by Christmas is December 15th.

For Zesty readers!!!!! 25% off coupon code: ZESTY25
Upper Metal Class website


We hope you find the great and personal gifts you are looking for and wish you peaceful holidays and a beautiful 2016.

Quote of the Week - Price

"Here I am walking around making $1 million a year, and I'm working shoulder to shoulder with people in her situation who are every bit as good and valuable as I am." 

~ Dan Price

This is such a great example of being in integrity. Of understanding that our world is a collective process and life is a shared experience, not a competition. Price set a policy of elevating salaries in his company toward a goal of $70,000 while butting his own to that figure. He did this to make sure that all of his employees could have manageable lives based on their salaries in their environment. 
Valuing people for who they are and that they are, not based on their job description is still a pretty radical idea.
If you were in Price's position, what would you do?

Body Shaming by Victoria by E. Amato

My relationship to Victoria’s Secret is basically: why are they so expensive? Why do their things fall apart so quickly? Why do they never fit properly? On their side, there's my old satin robe, which wasn’t expensive, doesn’t fall apart no matter what I do to it (like burn it on the stove when I'm boiling water for coffee) and has been reclaimed from the Good Will pile about a dozen times: I can’t let it go; I love it too much. It keeps false hope alive that one day, I will walk into a Victoria's Secret and find something that fits, that is quality, and that lasts. Also, it's kinda sexy.

Much of my life, I’ve had DDs or sometimes, even more. I’ve worn 36 and 38. I’ve discovered the ridiculous way the number size affects cup size – these assumptions that if you are skinnier around the ribs, your breasts are also smaller. I will never understand bra sizes. 
Finding bras is a challenge for every one who wears them. My last good purchase was at Intimissimi and before that I got some from Felina. Both brands have great styling, fit well, last long, and are a good value. Not cheap, but priced comparably to Victoria’s Secret, and they last about 5 times as long. But those brands can be hard to find, and bras need to be tried on. As I walked by a Victoria’s Secret, feeling that strange combination of desperate and hopeful, wearing my 34C Intimissimi demi cup that I love and that really needs replacing, I went inside.

First off – everything in there is padded. I’ve never needed or wanted extra padding.. I also have no idea what those pads are made of, if they let my skin breathe, and what toxins they are leaking. I asked the overly friendly sales associate (I hate the way they stalk you the minute you walk in. Do they think that's helpful? I think they are always just letting me know that they think I might shoplift.) for “unlined” and she showed me lightly padded. I asked again. She said she’d confused unlined with no underwire. I thought she should probably be fired, but none of my business.
They had two styles without pads in the whole store. Two. A t-shirt bra and another. The other is modeled completely on the Intimissimi bra I already had on - a total knock off with cheaper fabrics and construction, but the same price. (VS actually used to distribute Intimissimi in the US; presumably it's more profitable to just steal their designs.) There was a very sparkly bra that looked like something a six year old would really like, but no.
In the dressing room, I tried on the 34Cs I’d asked for. The t-shirt bra was too small in the cup - like way too small. The band had no extra fabric (which helps to hold on to when you are doing it up) and appeared to not have extra settings. Women have cycles, our bodies change within a month (I used to change so much I actually had to have different bras for different weeks of the month), it’s good to have a few hook and eye options. I tried the other bra; I was coming out of the cup. I know I'm not a D anymore. I mean, not even close. And good luck getting a D cup below a 36. I came in there wearing a bra that fits, and is a 34C.
In the  changing room, I had a momentary blast of…’Oh, I must’ve gained weight!’ And a tiny little red flush of shame. As soon as it surfaced, I laughed inside and called bullshit.  Just like dress sizes go down over time, in the boob culture of Victoria’s Secret, cup sizes need to go up! Pad them, demi cup them, push them – make the girls look bigger. While simultaneously, making them feel like it’s too tight around the ribs and they might be getting fat.

And then it hit me:
Corporate body shaming. 
Brilliant.
Honestly, what a perfect strategy for hooking consumers. Make them feel sexy, but imperfect, and you have them hooked. With their sizing strategy, a woman who always felt she was "small" could feel bigger. A woman who felt she was fat would feel shamed. Both of them will come back for more. That's how body shaming works.

Marilyn was a size 12 in her day, which would make her about a 4 in today's sizes. Yes, fashion has been making women feel better by making the numbers smaller for decades. I recently found a cocktail dress I got for an event about twenty years ago. It’s a stunning black velvet one and a size 10. It used to be tight, but I wanted it and was unable to find it in a bigger size, so I bought it, starved myself the week before the event, wore control top pantyhose and sucked everything in. That’s how I used to do it. Now I buy everything too big, because I like to breathe. I put on this dress, thinking, well, it’s a size 10. I’m about a size 2. It couldn’t possibly fit me anymore.
It fit perfectly. 
Even with evidence of what the fashion industry does with sizing - statistics, anecdotal, observational - we still seem to let ourselves in for these games.  We pour money into companies that use our bodies as psychological war zones.

I don't want to be the one who calls out Victoria's Secret, the one who can't buy anything without thinking about the political implications of the purchase. I just want a new bra. But in an environment where one competitor has almost shut down the competition, it's hard to make that happen. I mean, when was the last time you were anywhere a department store to get to the "Intimates" department?

Expressing ourselves with clothes has been one of the few areas of creativity consistently allowed to women who could afford to do so. It has become part of who we are, how we identify ourselves, and how we fit ourselves into the world around us. We dress our mood, we dress our role, we dress for the event, we dress for effect. It would suck to have to trade the fun of dressing up for our balance and dignity. It sucks that the huge amounts of money women spend on clothing and accessories isn't enough to get companies to stop trying to get more of it and to respect us in all our shapes and sizes.


“ …unapologetic feminist, dulcet-toned poet, activist, film-maker, editor of Zestyverse ” (LossLit) E. Amato  is a published poet, award-winning screenwriter, and established performer. She has three poetry collections by Zesty Pubs: Swimming Through Amber, 5, & Will Travel, and is a content writer for The Body Is Not an Apology. She also has a special relationship with Marmite.

Quote of the Week - Luscious Jackson

"Faith will come humbly down.
Fear will come tumbling down." 

~ Luscious Jackson

Sometimes I forget  how much I love Luscious Jackson! Then one of their songs floats up in my consciousness and I have to listen on repeat.

Here are the rest of the lyrics:

I cry for the love in your eyes.
I try to let you be free.
If you're blue, don't let it worry you.
We'll make it through.
And if you don't believe me...

Faith will come humbly down.
Fear will come tumbling down.

Cynics may fill the books.
Critics may give you looks.
But I'll stand by ya 'til ya die.
And I'll be wise in the afterlife.

Faith will come humbly down.
Fear will come tumbling down.

Faith will come humbly down.
Fear will come tumbling down.

Faith will come humbly down.Fear will come tumbling down. 

Quote of the Week - Lao Tzu

“Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear?” 

~ Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

I don't know. I'd like to think the answer is yes, but the world doesn't always move at the same pace as inner clarity. Sometimes it's hard to hold on until the way is clear.

On Being Unapologetic by E. Amato

Could Cookie be the patron saint of our unapologetic posse?
Recently, I apologized to a friend for dropping out of an online comment thread in the middle, saying I was overwhelmed. He brought to my attention the fact that I’m “unapologetic” and didn’t need to say sorry. I replied that I did have to say sorry, because I did something wrong.
I can’t say where I first heard of the concept of unapologetic - it probably wasn't because of Rihanna, at least, not directly. I know that I'm influenced by The Body Is Not anApology, and  Unapologetic Bitch  has won a place in my fight song canon. Not that long ago, LossLit called me an “unapologetic feminist, dulcet-toned poet, activist, film-maker, editor of Zestyverse, ” which I wish I’d written myself, and my twitter handle is currently "Unapologetic B." 
Wherever it came from, I've embraced "unapologetic." But what is it?
Here are some things “unapologetic” means to me:
Unapologetic means not apologizing for being here. Not apologizing for having been born, taking up space, existing while woman or person of color, while plus size, trans, or disabled. It means no one has to apologize for being a human being in this body at this time on this planet. Ever.
Unapologetic means not apologizing for how you feel. Ever. Even if others’ around you do not feel that way.
Unapologetic means not apologizing for what you think, or how you think it.
Unapologetic means not apologizing for speaking or writing down your thoughts or feelings. This one is hard. I just read this great piece on famous quotes if women were trying to say them in a meeting. I so used to be that girl. “I’m sorry, if I could just….” “I was just thinking, maybe…” I don’t do that anymore. I try to use kind speech, but I don't caveat myself into a corner or apologize.  A guy I met after a gig emailed me asking me for a drink. But also after the gig, this guy made a very inappropriate comment, and knew it. It made me, and others there uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to go out with someone who’d made me that uncomfortable, but as I wrote back, I kept having to delete the “I’m sorry, but…” Each time I drafted my response, it would try to creep back in. Why was I apologizing for holding him accountable for his behavior?
Here are some things unapologetic does not mean to me:
Unapologetic does not mean you don’t apologize. Being unapologetic is a way of being accountable, taking up space, being present. In order to do this, it has to go both ways. This means when you speak in a hurtful way, when you take an action that has a bad consequence, when you harm yourself or someone else, when you don’t live up to your agreements, you apologize. Not for being wrong, but for doing wrong.
Unapologetic does not mean you get to go around and say everything that comes in your head. That is having no filter and no boundaries. Being unapologetic requires more mindfulness from me, not less. If I am going to be in integrity and authenticity, if I am going to be honest in the moment, I have to bring a very strong practice of mindfulness to bear on my unapologetic words and actions.
Unapologetic means not apologizing for your needs, wants, desires, dreams, life story, personal history, weaknesses, vulnerability, identity, economic status, state of wellbeing or illness.
Unapologetic does not mean we are right. In fact, it frees us from having to be so. When I first started writing for TBINAA, I was scared. I was going to be writing about things that were hard to even speak about with friends. What gave me courage was one sentence in the guidelines they sent to new writers: “We are not afraid to be wrong.” I highlighted that and came back to it a lot. This was the most liberating thing ever. I get to say what I want to say, without apologizing or backtracking or making excuses. And if I’m wrong, or if I’m not, that’s where the conversation starts. This is how we create dialogue, which is how we build community. It might seem like the opposite, but unapologetic communication is the first step in community building.

Being unapologetic isn’t for everyone. It means there will be an end to hiding, a heightening of accountability, and especially when dealing with online platforms, it can mean a lot of friction. For me, it’s meant all that. But it’s also meant that I’m often sharing in ways that creates empathy and connection between people. It’s meant that when I do apologize, it’s from a place of making amends, rather than making excuses; it gives “I’m sorry” its real power and meaning back.

It means that I don’t spend time wondering why I’m on the planet, and can spend more time on what I’m meant to do now that I’m here. It’s also meant a stripping away the filter between what I think and feel, and what I’m willing to witness and testify to, which feels a little dangerous and like an emperor’s new clothes kind of moment, but I think that’s how we go forward.
Maybe unapologetic is just having its moment, but I think it might be here to stay.

There’s Something About Vinyl by E. Amato

I stayed at some friends for a few days while they were away. Before they left, one said, “Oh and the stereo works, and the turntable.”

My eyes darted to what in fact was a working stereo and a turntable with an LP already on it. There was a teeny twinkle in my soul. I recognized the disk and not far from it, its cover told the whole story: R.E.M.Reckoning.

The first time I heard R.E.M., I was standing about fifteen feet from them at Nassau Coliseum. They were opening for The English Beat, who were opening for Squeeze. We had no idea there was another opening act, but we’d pushed our way to the front to dance and be as near as possible to Difford & Tillbrook as we could. Even though we were still fifteen or sixteen and judgy as hell when it came to music, the first few chords of the first song made us look at each other in recognition. Who were these guys? Where had they been all our lives? How could we both be in love with Peter Buck so fast and what in the world was the lead singer saying?
Chronic Town wasn’t out yet. We had to wait and go to the record store the next week to get the EP. Like all trips to the record store in town with my bestie, we each bought one or two records. We debated endlessly which ones these should be and who should buy which. Even then, we were buying Maxell XL-IIS’s by the box. Tape runs were a thing. Whoever was going into Manhattan or to Uncle Steve’s would take money and buy boxes and boxes of blank cassette tapes. After visits to the record store, once we were done with town, we’d go home to one of our houses, play the records and tape them for each other. 
Maybe it was because R.E.M. was the first band we felt like we got to discover, apart from friends’ bands, Reckoning was important. By the time it came out, other people were noticing them. But for us, their music was already part of our language. Hearing new fans wondering aloud what Michael Stipe was singing made me laugh. We spoke Stipe.
Although there are later albums that have masterful tracks, this one always felt the most them to me. It held together as a document (yeah, I see what I did there) and the songs are each little gems.
It was just waiting on the turntable. How could I not?
I lifted the cover, the needle, moved it right to left and onto the vinyl. Let the needle down. And there it was: music in the room.
People say a lot of things about the transition from vinyl to CD to digital. They say that there’s static and the sound of dust coming off a record. That it can deteriorate and warp. They say digital has limiters and is cold. They say CDs are flawless, but we all know they aren’t. I have no CDs anymore. But I still have my vinyl. Even if I’ve been separated from it for much of my adult life, I know where it is, in alphabetical order, waiting for me to have more space. I refuse to give up my vinyl.
Still, I believe wholeheartedly in the reality that we can have any song anywhere, just when we think about it. I have a friend who has an infinite mental jukebox and who can “listen” to any song he’s ever heard whenever he wants. But for the rest of us, streaming and MP3s are a wonderful moment in evolution.
But now I am listening to those first melodic lines of “Harborcoat.” I am here in the room, and so is the band. The record brings a physical presence to the music the CD and the digital file never had. I feel a band. I feel a drummer, a singer. I feel a studio. I feel a time. The ‘when’ of this recording becomes alive. The context and perspective of this music make themselves known. Who was mixing Americana with new wave in 1982? Who was bringing gorgeously layered tracks to music that was supposed to feel unfinished and urgent?
I don’t hear needle fuzz or static. I hear more of the mix; I hear all the tracks they recorded. I hear all the times they went through the song to lay down those tracks. I see the food delivery containers on the soundboard where the engineer has probably told them never to put food. I wonder about the studio it was recorded in and who else made albums there. As I am listening, this isn’t just music – it is a story; it is taking on a life of its own.
I forgot how much I love vinyl. How my deepest connections to songs come through its frequencies. My digital archive of music is hundreds of gigs. But what do I know of their covers, their lyric sheets? They come and go, ephemeral and capricious. I forget sometimes I have them. Snippets of them haunt me without titles or track numbers. Yes, I will listen to Jim James’ Regions Of Light And Sound Of Godor Beck’s Morning Phasea million times and yes, iTunes will keep track of those million times. Yes, I will have them in my headphones and between my ears and right up inside my brain when I am writing. But they won’t ever feel like they’re there with me. In the room, holding it down. Like there’ll be a shot of whisky when the needle comes up or an after party.

It’s wonderful that we have all the content we could ever want or has ever been. But the flip side is this hemorrhaging of context. I feel Chelsea Wolfe’s angst as I listen to Abyss, but it’s simply not the same as feeling Chelsea Wolfe’s presence. This is a tiny distinction, it is splitting hairs, I know. I do. But there is a difference between an injection of sound between your ears, and a wrapping of sound around you. Records create atmosphere – something you are held inside of. Digital seems to facilitate separation.

Across the board, we are sacrificing our experience of touch; as we become more digitized, we seem to become less sensitized. Yes we still love analog – the turn of a page, the drop of a needle on a record – but we don’t seem to recognize how much we need it, relegating it to a throwback, kitsch, or curiosity. This while we envelop ourselves in adult onesies and fleece everything, become rigorous foodies in search of the latest taste.
There is something about vinyl, though. Sleek, elegant, and right there where you can see it, touch it, smell it. The magic is that you can hear it all from those scratches circling into spiral grooves.

“ …unapologetic feminist, dulcet-toned poet, activist, film-maker, editor of Zestyverse ” (LossLit) E. Amato  is a published poet, award-winning screenwriter, and established performer. She has three poetry collections by Zesty Pubs: Swimming Through Amber, 5, & Will Travel, and is a content writer for The Body Is Not an Apology. She also has a special relationship with Marmite.

Quote of the Week - Roop

"What if I told you there were sparks in your spine
and handed you a match to strike against your vertebrae?
Would you believe in your flicker then?" 

~Lacey Roop

I love this poet! This is an excerpt from "A Poem For When You Need To Be Reminded Of Your Own Electricity." (with permission) This is my go-to reminder poem when I'm in the dark.

And here's a writing prompt from the same poem:  


"Have you forgotten the blowtorch that is tongue?"


What aren't you saying?

What are you holding back?

What power are you refusing to unleash?

What happens to your fire when you don't use it?


Happy New Moon Monday! Now go ----

"Be so electric
that this world can't help but be
dazzled by you."

Above image found on the Electrotherapy Museum site.

p.s. Happy birthday Lacey Roop - turns out it's today!

Quote of the Week - Hiddleston

From Only Lovers Left Alive
"Be yourself above all else and trust yourself. Be kind, be brave, be on time!" 

~This came from an IMDB twitter interview with folks who made Crimson Peak.

Hiddleston was asked for advice for young actors. This is such great advice! Especially the second part - which is often overlooked in an industry governed by budget and speed. I'd add "be prepared and be flexible!"