Times are tough. And continues to suck. Like Jason and myself, many who write also teach, and we found ourselves in the position of consoling our students in the wake of the electionβsome fearing hate crimes, others sick from worrying about being deportation.
I had one student tell me of her sister, who is an elementary school teacher here in Albuquerque, how one of the kids in her class asked who would eat breakfast with him in the morning if his parents were deported. I was devastated when I heard this.
She is now afraid that her siblings will be sent back to a place where over dozen individuals are being murdered in the streets, weekly. As more of these stories surface, I keep asking myself, how did we get here? How is this man going to be the leader of this country? I performed at and attended hundreds of these concerts in basements and warehouses and garages and living rooms and long defunct ballrooms. They encourage musical experimentation and unbridled self-expression. These scenes across the country are connected and I knew three people who died in Oakland.
Edmond Lapine was an affable, charismatic guy who I met through friends in the Northwest. A few summers ago, we all played loud music in an apartment building in downtown Olympia, Washington.
She was vibrant and warm, unpretentious, yet effortlessly cool. And one of the best House musicians on the planet. So much kindness, so much creativity lost in that fire. Our cities need to support the arts so no one has to play in unsafe spaces.
