Caryn Rose's jukeboxgraduate.com » writing

Rock Scene

clr — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 18:06:36 +0000

When I was a teenager, my father used to go into NYC for business on a fairly regular basis, and he would always be willing to stop into a record store or bring me a copy of the Village Voice, picked up at the newsstand at Grand Central. (This was before I could drive, and could go get my own copy at the newsstand at Bull’s Head in Stamford, the only place in town I knew of that carried the Voice).

One day he walked in the house and handed me a copy of this magazine.
“You like Bruce Springsteen, right?”
“Right, Dad.”
“They were out of the Village Voice but I saw that and thought you’d like it.”

It was like he had handed me the keys to the kingdom. I had heard about Rock Scene, somehow, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that made it to the suburbs and I’m pretty sure it never dawned on me to subscribe — subscriptions were for things like Rolling Stone, which I believe I got for my 15th or 16th birthday (before that, I had to go to the library to read it). But Rock Scene? I knew it was full of photographs of the Ramones and that Lisa Robinson ran it and that the New York Dolls were practically the house band.

A few months later, an otherwise very quiet and unassuming coworker at my after-school/summer job came in one day and when no one was around, handed me a large manila envelope. Inside was a stack of back issues, the good covers, the Mick and Iggy and Joey covers. I don’t know how she put two and two together. “Don’t show them to anyone here,” she said, whispering, “But I used to hang out at clubs in the city.”

Don’t let the gossipy format fool you; they had the best writers and the best photographers (Bob Gruen!), and for all of its “The Ramones Help Danny Fields Move!” (I walk by that building on 4th Avenue, the one just south of what’s now the Walgreens, and think of that photo essay EVERY TIME) – it was a glimpse into a world I was never going to be part of by virtue of my parents not having met each other early enough to have had me in enough time to make it there. But it was mindblowing and aspirational in the best way, you read it and you wanted to be there, you felt like you were there, you felt like you could be part of it. It was the very definition of “I’m gonna get on that train and go to New York City and I will never return! Oh, watch me now.”

So this collector has digitized the entire run of Rock Scene and instead of coming to my apartment and paging through the issues in the archive boxes in the closet, you can read them in the comfort of your own home. And I hope you do.

this is what a feminist music writer looks like.

clr — Tue, 03 May 2011 20:29:21 +0000

I attended the Ellen Willis symposium this weekend, organized at NYU by friends and colleagues of mine, and in honor of the amazing anthology just released. Speaking as someone who hung on every word in the previous Willis anthology, Beginning To See The Light, it was a delight to sit in that room with people who felt and thought like me, to be one in a sea of nodding heads when most of the time, that head is nodding solo and alone, or at least it feels that way.

My two big AH HA moments were when I said, “I waste so much time either apologizing for being too feminist, or not enough.” Funnily enough, my baseball blog, which a large portion of the world views as a dominion of bra burning ball busting man hating supremacy, was judged as not feminist at all by a so-called leading feminist web site a few years back, who refused to list my site in a list of feminist sports blogs. The other was when Irin Carmon pointed out how she had to keep checking the dates in the book when she’d read a story about Willis relating something that happened to her, because in so many ways, things have not changed.

But mostly, the biggest moment was just about doing the work, and owning the work. Everyone around me – male and female – felt like they needed to immediately GO HOME AND WRITE, but of course, no one wanted to leave.

I mentioned to someone else that I hoped that something I had done, by sitting and typing words, had made things better for the 20 something colleagues who were at the conference, or changed things. And he said that while things may not have changed, they are probably better. And I got asked for advice, and gave advice, and the advice that I gave – stop bemoaning what you haven’t seen or read or heard or written, just start looking and reading and writing, you don’t have time for anything else – could also be very well taken by myself.

I am linking to Ann Powers’ NPR Music Blog story about the weekend because there is a great photograph of many of us on the steps of the Judson Memorial Church, I know that when I was 15, or 20, or 30, and wanted to know that there were other feminist music writers out there, I would have liked actual, physical proof. (I was pleased that during the taking of the photograph we had many “Just Kids” moments as tourists stops and snapped pictures just in case we were famous. But we are, I wanted to tell them.)

Listen to me on Live From E Street Nation, Friday, 4/10

clr — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 19:52:03 +0000

I will be on E Street Radio later this week. The show is called Live From E Street Nation (please, try not to gag too hard). It runs Friday mornings from 10-12ET. I am co-hosting the show with Dave Marsh this Friday, 4/10.

If you do not already have satellite radio, you can sign up for a free online trial (that runs for three days) that will let you listen to the show online:

http://www.sirius.com/estreetradio

The link for the free trial is at the top of the page.

The call in number listed on the site is 1-877-70-BRUCE. I imagine that will also be the number for the call in show, but listen and find out. Tell your friends, call us and ask why in God’s name Bruce has “Outlaw Pete” second in the set.

which side are you on?

clr — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 00:07:46 +0000

I have a blog, and every day I’ve been writing up what happens on the picket lines. One of the things I never anticipated is how many non-WGA writers would be joining us. I like when they sign-in as “Future WGA.” Because they’re recognizing that what gets decided through this strike will be the contract they’re working under for the next 20 years. –John August

Solidarity Forever,
Future WGA

opening day 2007

clr — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 03:44:21 +0000

…and I have a short story in Hobart’s April web issue, which is their annual baseball issue. (Serendipitously, and completely without plan, I am joined in this issue by my dear friend, the fabulous Litsa Dremousis.)

Play ball!

ain’t it strange: patti smith on the hall of fame

clr — Mon, 12 Mar 2007 20:54:11 +0000

‘Rock ’n’ roll drew me from my mother’s hand and led me to experience. In the end it was my neighbors who put everything in perspective. An approving nod from the old Italian woman who sells me pasta. A high five from the postman. An embrace from the notary and his wife. And a shout from the sanitation man driving down my street: “Hey, Patti, Hall of Fame. One for us.”’

One for us, indeed.

33 1/3 madness

clr — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 19:09:09 +0000

WOWEE.
It’s kind of amusing how many people want to write about, say, Cheap Trick At Budokan. And kind of cliched that, out of all the albums in the Lou Reed canon, there are three proposals for Metal Machine Music and NOTHING ELSE.

That’s my proposal for Black Love on there. Dammit.

like punk never happened

clr — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 00:40:46 +0000

My debut entry over at This Ain’t The Summer Of Love — Like Punk Never Happened: Patti Smith and the Hall Of Fame.

this ain’t the summer of love

clr — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 00:49:03 +0000

While I’m still figuring out what this place is – or will be – because I’m a masochist and love a deadline, I joined b.markey’s new project, This Ain’t The Summer Of Love. Look for my debut post this weekend. (See? Deadline)

33 1/3 results are in

clr — Fri, 27 Jan 2006 22:54:18 +0000

The results are in, and no I did not make it (and yes, more on that after the jump). But, looking at who made the cut, the august company there makes me feel a little better about the rejection. The submission list was long and broad, too.

My choice?

Black Love by the Afghan Whigs.

My original vision was for something like The River or Quadrophenia, but I tried writing a proposal for the former and it turned out to be a short story and not a book, and the latter — well, my junior year thesis in high school was about Quadrophenia and when I went back over it, I realized I had pretty much said everything I would have wanted to say about it, plus it wasn’t an album I wanted to live with for a year.

I fell into Black Love when New Orleans flooded (even though it doesn’t specifically say it takes place there, in my mind’s eye, it always certainly could have) and I thought about the comment a writer-friend had made about the series, about how your choice should be an album you not only always come back to, but an album that, in effect, has never left you, and that changes like a chameleon as the years go by.

Thus, Black Love.

And of course, because I fucking love that record and think it is one of the most underrated records of all time.

I had thought about posting the proposal but it was a specific assignment and, well, who knows what the future might bring. But if you’re a writer who didn’t (or did) make the cut, or who thought about submitting but didn’t, and you want to take a look, drop me a line.