(courtesy of Tenacious D)

So, I am graduating in a few weeks. As I think over that, and all the totally awesome times I’ve had at BU, I’ve decided to see how I might share those experiences with you, the faithful reader. Now I don’t intend to do this with self-indulgent anecdotes that sound so cool to me but would ultimately bore you to tears, but instead, I hope to instruct you on how to do these things for yourself. First up? Wicked pissah music career. (Career is used loosely. I never made all that much money, but I played all over. It was fun. Here’s how you can do it, too.)

Step 1: Be Kind of Good

First step is to play some music people kind of want to hear. You have two choices here. You could actually be good, practice your instrument, get a proficient group of musicians around you, write some original-but-catchy tunes in your genre of choice and take over the city. Or, because this city is so saturated with Berklee and Boston Conservatory and New England Conservatory students, you can really suck. You can make music so bad and quirky that it’s really hip to like you. The only key here is you have to put on a really entertaining show. And if you suck that probably means breaking stuff. Choose wisely.

Step 2: Get Your Name Out There

There are a few ways to do this. There are a few ‘battle of the bands’ type competitions in Boston. I don’t want to name them because the only one I did was miserable. Just kidding, it was Emergenza. Basically you have to sell your own tickets, and you move on from round to round depending on how many people you can get to come see you. The bad part of this is you feel like you’re fleecing your friends every time you play a show. The good part is, it trains you for the real world, because club owners don’t care how good you are, just how many people you can bring out.

You can also play open mics. They’re all over the city in various forms, and there’s even one here at BU, at BU Central, from time to time.

Step 3: Move Up to the Clubs

Once  you can pull 50-200 people to each of your open mic appearances, you’re ready for the mid-sized clubs. By this time you want a SonicBids Electronic Press Kit (an online profile strictly for club promoters and record labels), you want to apply for South by South West (a huge music festival where you can play showcases where only the press and record label representatives are allowed to watch you) in Austin, Tex., and you want to start playing All Asia, T.T. the Bear’s and other comparable clubs. You probably won’t get South by South West (and don’t be a sucker and go down there to play a non-showcase show, they don’t really do anything for you) but these clubs will welcome you with open arms if you can guarantee crowd of 50 to 200 people. They also won’t have silly rules like “You can’t play anywhere in Boston a month before or after you play at your club,” like most bigger clubs have. For the smaller venues, it’s all about the Benjamins.

Step 4: Get Famous

Now that you’ve grown into a cult classic in this town, with an indie album on iTunes, a pitch out to Q Division records (a local record label who you can send your SonicBids EPK to), and well-attended shows at Harper’s Ferry and the Middle East under your belt, it’s time to get a booking agent and book a tour. Only play places you know you can attract people, and clubs where you know you’ll be playing a bill with comparable bands. This is difficult to guarantee, so it’ll be a full-time job for someone. Once you’re big in a few cities, you’ll start to be attractive to bigger record labels. Don’t be afraid to sign indie, though. Be careful not to get locked into something too long term, but let them help you record an album or two, because that gets expensive.

Step 5: Get Lucky

Pretty much everyone tries this and fails. Good luck.

So, that’s the long and short of it. You need to make some connections with the right people at the right time, but other than that, that’s pretty much all you can do. The good news is, Boston is a great local music city. The bad news is, pretty much everyone has a band. Be special, make a few bucks, and have some fun.

(courtesy of girly drinks photos)

In continuation of my “How to have a totally awesome four years here” series, I’ve decided to make some bar endorsements. I’m not talking about the best place to chill with your favorite light domestic beer (for that I wholeheartedly recommend Our House West because it has great couches, a secret bar in the back, games to play, and it’s never crowded). I’m mean a place where you can get a well made cocktail and hang out.

East – Eastern Standard, Kenmore Square

(courtesy of esquire.com)

Right across from the CITGO sign in Kenmore Square sits this gem. A little on the pricey side, with cocktails running you about $10, you get everything you pay for. The drinks are fantastically mixed, the atmosphere classy, and the bartenders happy to see you. If you don’t know what you want, tell them what you like and they’ll make something for you. Eastern Standard also offers a great menu of classic cocktails dating to Prohibition and before. My favorite is the Jack Rose, but try a Frisco or a Sazerac and you won’t go wrong. Because Eastern Standard is expensive, it may not be the place to spend your night, but it’s perfect for starting it — or spending a Sunday evening preparing for the coming week. Drink to order now: Jack Rose (A cocktail from the 20’s, it’s made with Apple Jack which is the original American spirit. Legend has it Lairds still makes it with the original recipe, crafted by George Washington. It’s sour with a bite.)

West – Deep Ellum, Union Square

(courtesy of veganblarg.com)

Deep Ellum in Allston Proper, is the best drink destination if you’re out west. It’s also a little pricey when it comes to cocktails, $7-10, but they’re top notch drinks. You can also get a unique beer, too. With 22 drafts and 100 bottled beers, you’re bound to find something you’ve never had. They also import a cask beer from god knows where every month. They tap it ’til it’s done and then put something else new and strange in. Whether you like cocktails or beer, you won’t be disappointed.

The added bonus of Deep Ellum is the food. Decently priced and delicious, you can get the bar classics like an Angus burger for $8, and each morsel is worth the price. Definitely a place to get dinner, or get the evening started. Drink to order now: Deep Ellum Old Fashioned (It’s a house recipe and it’ll change your life. Even if you generally stay away from cocktails, this is one to try. It’s got an interesting citrus and spice taste that comes from the homemade bitters they make in-house. Plus it’s made with rye whiskey, always a win-win.)

In closing, I’d also like to endorse another practice: becoming a regular. Once you’re of drinking age, pick a bar by your house and go there on the reg. For my roommates and I, our destination is Harry’s. It’s nothing special, the food’s good enough, the brews are what you’d expect (cheapo lites to hoppy microbrews) and the music is never too loud, but it’s where my friends and I spend our weeknights. There’s something nice about having a local place where you always go, not too far from home, but just far enough that you don’t have to feel like a bum sitting on your couch sipping from countless bottles of Magic Hat. So, find a place like Harry’s. We’re not saving a stool for you.

So, while you’re here, and of age, enjoy the spots Boston has to offer, and find a few of your own.

It sucks. The recession is real. I was, until very recently, a paid PR intern at a local insurance company. It went down like this: They brought me into an office and informed me that my position doesn’t exist any more. BAM!! My bread and butter, gone. The company knew I was going to leave when I graduated in a few weeks, so showing me the door at this stage was a real kick in the teeth. Then they axed a couple of my superiors, one of whom was the most competent PR person the company had. Absurd.

So now the recession means something to me, perhaps a little sooner than I expected it to. Let’s talk about it. Maybe you’re the only one that’s left who hasn’t been affected by the economic tectonics, but you need to understand how we got where we are, and why it’s going to be a nightmare to get out of it. Here’s how it worked:

Banks work with assets and liabilities. If you deposit your money in a bank you’re considered a liability. This seems a little backwards, but basically the bank knows that at any moment they could have to pay you your money back. Therefore you’re a liability. If you take  a loan from a bank you’re an asset because you’re making the bank money by paying interest.

Recently, banks gave house loans to pretty much everyone. They’d lend you as much as you wanted because they wanted to make awesome money, and that was the way to do it. Unfortunately they lent to lots of people who couldn’t make their payments, ever. This was a bit irresponsible (they should’ve been more discriminant in whom they lent to), but the outcome was not necessarily all the banks’ fault.  The banks foreclosed on those who couldn’t make their payments.

Unfortunately for the banks, no one wanted these houses. So the banks’ assets didn’t equal their liabilities. They had all these people who had invested money in the bank, and the banks had lent that money out, but now they couldn’t make the balance sheet equal out because their assets had depreciated in value. Are you following me? Good. So the banks have this messed up balance sheet where they, in theory, don’t have the real money to pay all their liabilities. So they said, well, wait a minute. These houses, back in the day, were worth lots of money on the market. So, instead of putting them on our balance sheets at their current value, let’s put them on with their old-time, higher value.  That way, we can just wait until the market springs back, because it always does.

But it didn’t. And this was the housing bubble that popped.

Now the giant banks, as they’re getting bailed out today, are much, much larger and more complicated. But basically, the principle remains. They were trading with money they didn’t have and it all came crashing down at once.

A true capitalist, would say, “Screw them! They were irresponsible and dishonest, they deserve to fold.” Unfortunately, these banks are so huge that if they folded our economy would likely collapse. That said, throwing money at the issue is going to take awhile to turn it around. And eventually we, the taxpayers, will have to pay this bailout money.

So, if you’re pissed, you have a right to be — because you’re losing your job (or not finding one) because of a crashing market that you have to pay to fix with the money you don’t have.

And that’s where we are. Now I’m going to go eat some Ramen.

(A disclaimer: I’m a journalist. My understanding of the economy comes from things I’ve read about what’s going on. The most helpful resource is this episode of This American Life. It’s an hour long and absolutely worth listening to if you want to learn more. I’ve distilled it here.)

(courtesy of www.thedisplacedafrican.com)

I’ve been 21 for 364 days now. Because you’re most likely not all that interested in a long-winded recap, let me give you the short version: London, Boston, Playing Clubs, School, Summer, Working, Sailing, No Girlfriend, Beach, Girlfriend, School, Christmas, Now. It was pretty awesome.

The real essence of 21 though, if you’ll indulge me for a minute, is the crossroads of youth and maturity. Drinking, in an instant, loses its flair. Is it still awesome? Obviously, but there’s no longer the struggle, the risk, the camaraderie. You’re just doing what you’re doing because you can. But it becomes fresh for different reasons. Bars are new, and you’re the youngest person in them. You sheepishly order a Bud Light because you’ve never had much of a choice before.

That’s not to suggest the only thing that’s great about turning 21 is imbibing. Certainly not. But it’s an easy milestone to tack onto. There’s a general feeling of becoming an adult. You’ve finally crossed a threshold into some sense of complete responsibility. There are no more age-restrictions. Society has deemed you fit to make every decision for yourself — except rent a car, in some cases.

But now the luster is gone. I’m a day away from 20-something.

I now have no real milestones to look forward to. A job? Ugh. Marriage? Whatever. Kids? Don’t want to think about it. From here on out everything that I have to look forward to will only up the ante. They will only give me more opportunities to fail.

And then, to add to that, the amazing adult things I did at 21 become what I’m supposed to do anyway. Louis C.K. (warning: coarse language) talks about 30 being the worst age to turn because no one is impressed with you living your life anymore. I would argue that that starts when you turn 20-something. When I was 21, if I paid my rent, it was like, oh wow, look at you, you were good enough with your finances this month to scrape together a sum of money at the end. And if I couldn’t pay it all, I’m young, I’ll figure it out eventually. Now, if I don’t do it, it’s not because I’m young and inexperienced, it’s because I’m irresponsible and can’t budget my finances. Budgeting? Seriously? Red Bull Vodkas on an open tab have never heard of Quicken.

When I was 21, looking for a real-life job was almost like a novelty that I didn’t expect to work out right away. Now I’m a degenerate if I don’t have a paycheck in six months because my bills will be more than I can bear. Fantastic.

To add to that, there are so many unknowns in the coming months it’s hard to balance an excitement for wide horizons with a concern for smothered dreams. So for you youngsters, hold on to these years with all the strength you can muster in your baby hands. And, if you see me out tonight, or tomorrow, or Saturday, or Sunday, give me a pat on the back, I’m mourning my youth.

(Courtesy cooltownstudios.com)

The green room downstairs at the The Middle East club in Cambridge is tiny. It’s a small box of a room crammed with couches and a table that make it almost impossible to move around. If there’s more than one band playing on any particular night (and when isn’t there?), the green room becomes less of a retreat from the chaos outside and more of a stifling container for sweaty performers to bump into one another. This is enough to diva-proof The Middle East. What you’ll find here are local acts that are excited to play this Boston staple, and those medium-sized touring acts that aren’t afraid to have a few drinks at the bar in the room before they take the stage. And that’s only part of what gives The Middle East its character.

Located on Mass. Ave. right outside Central Square, The Middle East started out as a Lebanese restaurant in the ’70s. In the ’80s, the owners decided to put in a stage in what is now the upstairs portion of the venue to allow for belly dancing performances during dinner. Belly dancing gave way to rock, and the venue as it is now was born.

There are essentially three (or four, depending on how you’re counting) venues at The Middle East. There are two restaurants and each usually offer music during dinner.  There is also The Middle East Upstairs, a room that holds about 200 people and hosts local acts that are just earning their stripes. To get on the bill, you must have played somewhere besides your sister’s wedding… like Boston’s circuit of smaller clubs. If you consistently draw a crowd, you might get a shot upstairs. The Middle East Downstairs holds about 600 and welcomes big local acts and national touring acts that can fill the space.

I’ve seen more than my fair share of shows both upstairs and downstairs at The Middle East (most recently an event featuring To The Masquerade) and both rooms are small enough to allow for an intimate enough experience. They are also dingy enough to provide an authentic rock club experience.

If you’re an aspiring musician in Boston, it’s going to be tough to get a gig here if you don’t consistently draw fans to your shows. However, anyone can send the club their MySpace and the management promises to give it a listen and respond eventually.

If you get the chance, you’ll find that the sound system isn’t the nicest — everything has a worn-down quality — but the atmosphere of the place, and being so close to the crowd makes it absolutely worth it. Playing downstairs at The Middle East was one of the more fun times I’ve had playing around Boston.

For live music, The Middle East is among the top few venues in Boston. If you’re new to the city, or have been around and haven’t been over there yet, you should make it a point to go to a show… upstairs, downstairs or in the corner. Whether it’s a local act you’re taking a chance on, or one of your favorite bands coming through town, it’s a great place to experience some music.

There’s something to be said for The New Yorker’s minimalist design. The cover (for subscribers) offers no teasers, and the pages within hold little more than blocks of text occasionally interrupted by illustrations. There are no flashy design elements, no large-print quotes to keep you reading, there is little more than text.

And there is great gravity in this.

When I was younger I used to pick up The New Yorker because I felt like I should. Some muddled sense of pretension pushed me to it, and I pretended to enjoy the Talk of The Town and the heady film reviews because it seemed like the right thing to do.

But something changed. A couple of years ago, in the winter fiction issue, there was a short story that gave me pause. I couldn’t tell you the name, or even the plot, but all at once I began to see the quality of writing that The New Yorker chooses to print. And this is the magazine’s strength. I’ve read almost weekly for a couple years now, and I’m always pleased at least once an issue with some choice piece of literary journalism or fiction.

I read The New Yorker because it is one of the last places where fine writing can be found. And it is a standard that must be upheld. Is there a stodginess in this? Yes, certainly. Every issues has pages that I don’t bother glancing at because I know I’m going to be subjected to some New  York elitist’s self-important musings. But I’m fine with it. If that’s what it takes to allow them to print the moving pieces that they do, then so be it.

If you plan on making a go at writing, start picking up The New Yorker. For starters, check out these two stories:

(courtesy of The New Yorker)

Why me? by Ian Parker

This profile of Alec Baldwin is stunning. After reading this you’ll never be able to settle for another Vince Vaughn eats a steak story in Esquire. Parker captures Baldwin. The story opens: “Alec Baldwin, who stars in ‘30 Rock,’ the NBC sitcom that has revived his career and done nothing to lift his spirits, has the unbending, straight-armed gait of someone trying to prevent clothes from rubbing against sunburned skin.”

It’s not a happy story, but it’s real. It has all the emotion and detail of truth and you put it down feeling as if you’ve gotten some sort of intimate glimpse at this sad man’s life.  Read it.

The Last Tour by William Finnegan

(courtesy of The New Yorker)

I wrote about this story in my post on Gay Talese’s fine profile of Frank Sinatra, but enough can’t be said about this gripping piece of narrative journalism.

The pacing, the structure, the attention to detail, all come together in this story of a marine with PTSD and the havoc it unleashes on his life and the lives of those around him. This is the kind of story that is written with such fluidity that you don’t even notice the pages turning until the arc is brought to its heartbreaking end.

I hope you don’t think me condescending. I don’t look down on people who don’t get The New Yorker, but, for young writers and those aspiring to learn journalism, this magazine consistently contains stories that are models of the craft. You’d be doing yourself a disservice to not at least try it.

Tell us what you think: Which magazines do you read and why? Sign in and leave a comment.

I, like most well-to-do college students, spend most of my semester going out too frequently, starting projects too late, and barely making every one of my story deadlines. So, when I have a break I like to replace the stresses of school with a few good books. This break was no different and, while I enjoyed them all (especially the life-changing Revolutionary Road, which is Gatsby meets Mad Men, and required reading for you and all your friends), there was one that truly amazed me.

Under the Banner of Heaven, was written by Jon Krakauer, author of both Into Thin Air and Into the Wild. It tells the story of two Mormon brothers who, because of a revelation one of them received from God, murdered their third brother’s wife and baby girl. But, beyond that, it is about the history of the Mormon faith, and the power of religion to motivate and mold.

Understandably, this isn’t a cheery or optimistic book. The murders are absolutely brutal and, while you know they are coming, difficult to read. This is the work of two men who don’t believe they are doing anything wrong, and, at the time of Krakauer’s reporting, still hold to that belief. There is no remorse, and that is what makes these characters so mesmerizing. You must know what drives these men, and what allows them to sleep easy.

Krakauer’s reporting is staggering. The pages are heavily footnoted, and the bibliography extensive. Krakauer spent more than two years gathering information, reading books, interviewing countless Mormons on both sides of the Fundamentalist issue, and the brothers involved in the murders. While the book faithfully tells the events of the day of the murder, it is so intent on uncovering why the brothers did what they did, that Krakauer does his best to unfold the religion’s murky history, from Joseph Smith’s childhood, to today, with all the many splits in between. While it has been contested by the Mormon church, it is a fascinating read.

The book runs into trouble when Krakauer momentarily strays from his diligent journalistic methods. There are times when it becomes clear that Krakauer holds Mormonism, and people who believe wholeheartedly in any religion, in contempt. It’s a shame because the story of the murders and the history of the Mormon faith seem to effortlessly write themselves; it is when Krakauer’s editorializing seeps in that the quick read bogs down.

Fortunately, these interruptions are few and far between. As a whole, the book is hard to put down, and amazing if only for the amount of reporting Krakauer had to do to assemble this long and complex narrative.

Esquire recently listed the seven greatest stories it has ever published. The story that took the top slot was “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” by Gay Talese, and it is a masterpiece. Take a moment to read it (after reading my post, please).

For those of you new to the history of journalism, let me preface my comments by saying that this is just one example of the New Journalism as defined by Tom Wolfe. The basic idea was to use literary devices usually found in fiction to write non-fiction narrative pieces. It began showing up in the 1960s and ’70s, and was made popular by writers like Hunter S. Thompson, Truman Capote and Norman Mailer, among many others.

This tradition has been continued lately by other fantastic writers, such as William Finnegan, who wrote a gripping piece in the New Yorker a couple months ago, and if you’d like to learn more about how they do what they do I highly recommend The New New Journalism by Robert Boynton. The book collects interviews with the new “New journalists,” talking about their craft and their methods.

All of that said, I think Talese’s article illustrates a few points that all journalists, new and old, should keep in mind as news production continues to change.

• First, notice that Talese never (or nearly never, perhaps I missed one) appears to actually interview Sinatra. But, if you’ve read it, after finishing this profile, you know Sinatra better, it would seem, than if you’d read a Q&A with him. I got the impression that an interview with him would’ve seemed like fluff in comparison to the rest. Talese’s meticulous observation of everything Sinatra does and says to the people around him works to portray an extremely vivid picture of both the person and character Sinatra embodies. It is this kind of overwhelming description that should be the goal of every non-hard-news article. Certainly there are caveats, and hard news does not have time for such flourishes; but if quick facts aren’t the purpose, this should be the standard of observation.
• Second, Talese has a great sense of pacing. The story itself takes place over a few days, but within those few days Talese describes years of Sinatra’s past and future. In the olden days, when newspapers measured in column-inches, a writer had to fit everything worth knowing in the first paragraph with the assumption that the story could be cut off anywhere. As the format changes, writers have more space to think about the ending and how to get there. (Once again, I’m thinking mainly from a feature perspective, not a hard-news perspective.) Using this Talese article as an example of how to pace and weave a story will do much to compel a reader to stick around and keep reading as other sources of media constantly beckon.
• Third, Talese knows when to cut. There are several instances when it’s obvious that Talese observed more, heard more, and wrote more but decided to subtract rather than add. The article is 19 pages printed, but every paragraph feels essential and they all flow so nicely that you barely notice. I had a high school English teacher that used to make us write our sentences on the board in front of the class and justify our use of each word. This is a principle that should be taken to every form of writing.

It’s writing like Talese’s and Finnegan’s and other “new” journalists that makes me excited to write and pushes me to keep at it. If you’re looking to study journalism, or already are, these are the authors that should set the standards for which you reach.

I’ve written my fair share of posts about the future of journalism and The Christian Science Monitor, so it seems only natural that I mention its Future of Journalism event last Thursday. The event, in part sponsored by COM, gathered Ellen Hume, the Research Director for the Center for Future Civic Media at MIT, Mark Jurkowitz, the Associate Director of the Project for Excellence in Journalism, Douglas K. Smith, the Executive Director of The Sulzberger News Media Executive Leadership Program, and Sree Sreenivasan, the head of the new media program and Dean of Student Affairs at Columbia University’s journalism school, in a conversation with John Yemma, the Editor of the Monitor.

The topics ranged from how media will make money in the coming years to how journalism will fare as the business evolves, and all the panelists had something to offer the audience in the room and on the webcast. Notable highlights included:

• Jurkorwitz spoke about 91% of news houses believing in the importance of investigative news pieces and commented that everyone is comfortable with the news going online. The question now is becoming, “Where will the quality news crop up?”
• Smith said that we live in a market society where we’ve inherited an artificial but powerful divide between concern for value and values. We must find a balance between writing news that sells (value) with upholding journalistic integrity (values).
• Sreenivasan addressed the growing trend of informed decisions from friends overtaking the media critics. As social media continues to grow, it will begin to influence the news media, though whether or not this effect will be a positive one is yet to be seen.
• Hume said that while technology will play a greater and greater role, nothing will ever replace face-to-face contact. Interviews over email will never be the same and for that journalists will always be in demand.

If you want to hear and see more of the event, you can watch online or download a video of the event here.

On one hand it felt nice to watch this event and feel reassured that the news isn’t lost, as I’ve said before. But, as graduation approaches, I still can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be no easy thing for me to find a job in a few months. The innovation’s coming but, as a certain editor at The Boston Globe told a class I’m taking, it’s still a few years out. What about the meantime? For now the business is still very much contracting. The news is safe, but for the foreseeable future the same isn’t necessarily true for me.

So what’s the answer? I’ve never had any delusions about paying my dues in the news business, but how long will that take? Where will the jobs be? Let us know what you think.

To Facebook, AJ Vaynerchuk is “a perfect gentleman” from New Jersey who appreciates The Departed and Saw I. He’s a senior in COM where he’s majoring in advertising with a minor in computer science. He’s also an entrepreneur. Vaynerchuk is a co-owner and founder of pleasedress.me, a t-shirt search engine that has gotten huge buzz and serves as a link between specialty t-shirt designers and the average consumers.

AJ started the site with his brother Gary, of winelibrary video blog fame, and Joe Stump, the lead architect at Digg. “Me, Gary and Joe always wanted to come out with something together,” AJ says. “So we came up with a concept that we wanted to get in to the t-shirt industry and had an idea for 25shirts.com and buy designs from really good designers and only sell 25, ever. But then we thought, what are we going to do when we sell out? Why don’t we build a whole service for finding t-shirts for people?”

And thus, pleasedress.me was born. Since then this site has linked up with more than 100 T-shirt designers and vendors and their business has never seen the red. “From day one we were already up a few hundred bucks,” AJ says. “After two months we are steadily increasing. I was a bit worried when we got so much initial hype. We were in the 3 of the 5 top blogs. I was worried with all the press how we would maintain it. But, money is coming in, we’re not hurting at all. We’re not interested in venture capitalists either. I don’t need the money, and my brother and Joe have their jobs. Money isn’t a concern for us, so that’s a huge advantage cause we’re re-investing into the company.”

They’ve also set up a Facebook fan page (search: please dress me) when fans are entered five days a week to win the T-shirt of the day. The brothers have even debuted the first episode of PleaseDressMe TV, where they review T-shirts each week.

The company is still young and AJ believes it has longevity, but he’s not boxing himself in. “PleaseDress.Me has been very successful,” AJ says. “It’s had a lot of recognition, and it’s associated with me so I have to make sure it’s successful. There’s a very good chance that I’ll work on it when I graduate in May, but there’s also a chance I’ll do something different.”