“What matters most to me is that I’m a reporter who believes in the persuasiveness of the facts. And that’s why I so admire the editors and columnist and reporter [at the News-Press] who quit and risked their livelihoods rather than suppress the facts.”
A newspaper’s credibility is the measure of trust that its customers place in what they read every day.
To steal a line from Mark Twain, the many, varied, and breathless accounts of our demise have been much exaggerated. By that, I am referring to reports that we received a “cease-and-desist” letter from News-Press owner Wendy P. McCaw‘s attorney David Millstein, promptly wet our pants, and then cravenly caved. Please! Give me a break. These are the facts.
A THORNY POINT: Tyree Weinstein-Decker
earned second place for Color Digital Teen
At the Santa Barbara Bowl, Thursday, July 13.
In these wicked days of corporate pop sensations and the resulting musical cynicism, rock gods are hard to come by. It’s a sad state, because we need them more than ever. They scare the white men in charge, they breathe hope into despair, and they provide strength to fight institutionalized fear. Luckily, Santa Barbara got a dose of such divinity last Thursday, when Eddie Vedder and his little band Pearl Jam descended from their heavenly thrones to deliver a spine-tingling, chill-inducing concert at the Bowl.
At Ventura’s Seaside Park, Tuesday, July 11.
It’s loud, it’s hot, and it’s possibly the only tour where the headliners don’t matter. While the mainstream acts are all well and good, the Warped Tour’s 12-year legacy is one built from an underground foundation, hailed for the soapbox that it affords to bands still working their way up the chain.
In the punk realm, bands are truly dependent upon their followers to survive the battle of natural selection, and the extent of their gratitude goes far beyond a brief thanks between songs. Everywhere, fans scribble band names and set times on signs and parade them in front of crowds, working side-by-side with promoters and tour managers. “It’s just a great environment for smaller bands like us,” said Torry Jasper, frontman for A Change of Pace. “The opportunities are endless; you just gotta work
your ass off.”
The approximate amount of duct tape it took to seal the mouths of the remaining News-Press editorial staff at last Friday’s rally.
The Santa Barbara School Board voted unanimously to approve the district’s final budget for the 2006-07 school year.
Some have conjectured that the metrosexual movement-a flash-in-the-pan lifestyle trend now gone the way of the greaser or the valley girl-has given rise to a response as macho as the metrosexual was ambiguous. However, an interesting offshoot of this grunting, unshaven, waggling movement is a genre of literature dubbed “fratire.” As the name would imply, fratire is the funny stuff of Mad magazine and the poetry of restroom walls. If your fat, beer-guzzling friend could somehow fart in a sexist manner, that would be an acceptable entry in the fratire literary tradition.
In 1985, trumpeter Nate Birkey came to Santa Barbara, intending to stay only for a minute. But during the next 20 years, he became a pillar of our town’s jazz community. His is the classic story of a young jazz musician honing his chops, developing his approach and philosophy, and finding his own voice. Almost two years ago, after much soul searching, Birkey took the plunge into the deep end of the jazz pool and moved to New York City. He’s coming back to town for a concert with his S.B. quintet at SOhO on July 26 and I took the occasion for a long, relaxed phone conversation with him about his East Coast odyssey.
