It’s pretty ridiculous how great my job is. Among the many perks I get, today was our every-other-year music festival “Pixarpalooza”. It’s basically a big party with bands (and now dj’s) comprised of Pixar employees. The bands do mostly covers, running the gamut from punk to country to classic rock, performed in a range between adequate-with-heart to holy-crap-these-guys-are-good! There’s a craft fair, food, drinks, a professional stage and soundboard, and all the fixings for a rocking time.
The one downside is that we’re instructed not to post pictures of it to the Internet. All of our events have that policy to protect privacy, and intellectual property, and I get it, even though it’s a bummer. I mean policing that kind of thing seems like a nightmare, so I get how having a blanket policy makes it easier, but it sure would be great if we could find a way to stay secure, while allowing some personal sharing.
But, sigh, it is what it is, and overall Pixarpalooza is just outstanding. Thank you to my friends and colleagues in all the great bands tonight. Thanks to the volunteer bartenders, the caterers, the dj’s, the executive leadership for making these kinds of things happen, and pretty much everyone at Pixar for just being awesome.
The Downtown Performance Center was a downtown-Tucson warehouse, owned by the Arizona Department of Transportation, and leased to artist Steven Eye. It existed in the early/mid 90’s, primarily hosting punk/underground shows. Eventually it was shut down as a venue due to neighborhood complaints, and was reborn as The Mat Bevel Institute, retaining an artistic and unconventional aesthetic.
Entrance of the DPC, photo by Matt McCoy
While I was in high school many of my weekend nights were spent driving the 25 round trip miles from the exurbs of East Tucson to see bands at the DPC. The shows were an incredible outlet for us kids growing up in the suburban Arizona wastelands: DIY, under $5, all-ages, and refreshingly tolerant.
Among the dozens of shows I attended, a few highlights were NoMeansNo, Steel Pole Bathtub, Treepeople, Green Day, Citizen Fish, Jawbreaker, J-Chuch, and the bacchanalian insanity of Crash Worship. That’s not even going into the rich tapestry of local music that was showcased at the space.
I left Tucson 16 years ago, so can’t comment much about what’s going on there now, but I can say definitevely that the 1990’s music scene in Tucson was strong, and the DPC was largely responsible.
If you were around during the DPC’s glory days, and don’t yet know about its Facebook group, check it out over here: I Hung Out at the DPC.
Thanks a million to DPC founder Steven Eye, and the others who helped build the vital community that shaped my adolescence so profoundly.
For years I have been toying with the idea of starting something like this. My plans never fully coalesced until recently, but there was always something simmering.
Lately though the simmer has become a boil. Between a major shift in my job responsibilities several months ago, and planning and executing an incredible DIY wedding with my sweetheart, this tumultuous year has forced my hand — I need a creative outlet.
Assisting in shaping this current headspace has been Arcade Fire’s new album The Suburbs. It’s basically been on a constant loop in my car, house and headphones. It’s a smart, sprawling, beautiful album, that really speaks to me as the kid who escaped the miserable desert suburbs of Tucson.
But the album (and life) are not that simple. After a dozen or more listens, I am seeing past the obvious criticisms of “the burbs” and now finding nuance. There is wonderful nostalgia in some of the songs, about things like riding bikes, learning to drive, writing letters, and late-night makeout sessions at the neighborhood park. These are genuine, lovely memories, which quite frankly are hard to accept in the context of my overt disdain for the suburban living arrangement.
And let’s be real, this kid is now a 30-something man. I’m just not the same zine-making, skateboard-riding, punk-rock-listening angry youth. Today in fact is my 36th birthday, which means I have now spent half of my life as an adult, a point not lost on me as I spent Saturday a couple weeks ago record shopping and lollygagging around Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. School was about to get under way, and hordes of freshmen were wandering around, parents and siblings in tow. It struck me then that I was witnessing a part of the same journey that I had taken 18 years prior, when my Mom and I road-tripped from Tucson to Berkeley, and she dropped me off at the Unit 3 dorms. “That was half my life ago” I said to myself as I looked around. These kids must have been wondering what the creepy old guy with the mustache and wedding ring was doing in their midst, drinking beer without getting carded, and what’s this, shopping for CD’s at Amoeba?
CD’s??? Who is that weird guy?
It’s a rhetorical question of course, but maybe working on this blog will help me figure that out a bit. I don’t entirely know where I’m going with it, and it’s going to be an experiment. A lot of blogs are executed with a real sense of motivation, showcasing the blogger as a chef, an entrepreneur, a journalist, or what-have-you. But I have enough interests that I don’t want to limit myself to just one of them, and truth be told, I’m not spectacular enough at anything to dedicate a whole blog to it.
Conversely a lot of blogs follow the old “here’s-a-place-for-my-random-thoughts” approach. They tend to ramble from post to post, seemingly with no real purpose. Honestly I’m scared I’ll fall too far into this category. Yes, I am obviously looking for a personal creative outlet, but no, I don’t want to become a navel-gazing-attention-whore.
Hopefully I’ll land somewhere between these two styles, with a consistent, yet interesting and diverse approach to my blogging.
Future generations will have to decide if I have been successful or not. For now though, it’s time for bed.
