MotherSister Brooklyn

The best mixtape I ever received was so good that I still keep a Walkman around in order to listen to it from time to time. It was a 21st-birthday gift from Colin Brooks, a friend since high school and a drummer so talented that he was receiving press plaudits before he received his diploma (as I recall, one review in the Little Rock Spectrum appreciatively noted that he “pounds the drums as if they owe him money”). The mixtape, which includes treats such as Frank Black’s “Abstract Plain,” Elvis Costello’s “Welcome to the Working Week,” and the Stones’ “Tumblin’ Dice,” was not only a kind-hearted effort to ease my oppressive anxiety over misguided romances and looming wage-slavin’ but also an eclectic demonstration of Colin’s appreciation of smart pop tunesmithery wrapped in driving rock ‘n’ roll.

At the time he gifted me with the tape, Colin had already provided the backbeat for at least 10 Little Rock punk bands, including the Numbskulz and Substance; in the 10 years since, he has also served time with Skeleton Key, Sea Ray, The Stills, and now Dan Zanes & Friends. That’s right: Dan Zanes, formerly of the Del Fuegos and now the free world’s best hope for all-access music that doesn’t make you want to break the CD player after your child has listened to it 50 times.  The group has won leagues of devoted fans and industry respect (including a Grammy Award); guests on their records include Debbie Harry, Lou Reed, Aimee Mann, and John Doe. Still, I never quite foresaw the day when my grizzled friend would be surrounded by any bottles that didn’t contain beer, so I used the excuse of the band’s upcoming February show at BAM to pester Colin about exactly how it came to this.

Find out how Colin navigates the underbelly of rock stardom — y’know, the soft one that involves pajama parties and plenty of coffee — while staying true to his indie rock roots after the jump.

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When most people think of surfing, skateboarding, and snowboarding, New York City is not usually the first image that comes to mind — but that’s because they just don’t know. They’re starting to find out, though: the Gray Lady recently took notice of a Brooklyn band of skaters, and new shops such as the Harlem-based Everything Must Go and Homage in Cobble Hill have started serving up gear. But one company that pulls board sports into a truly 21st-century reality (it’s all about the mix, y’all) is Brooklyn Surfer. Established just several years ago by Michael Green, a surfer/skater/snowboarder and “creative dude” in the ad business, Brooklyn Surfer is an apparel company and a conceptual brand; Green’s affiliate company, BSI Agency, has clients that include MTV, Sony, and Microsoft.

Michael is soon off to a trade show in Germany, followed by a few days to enjoy the powder in Vermont before returning to dig into the next season of Brooklyn Surfer products and concepts. He took a time out, though, to tell me how Brooklyn Surfer represents the true surfer of life.

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Last week I lamented the dearth of worthwhile magazines that don’t treat parenting like a trendy lifestyle choice available only to the very wealthy, the very urban, the very heterosexual, and the very blond. Keki Mingus kindly took some time away from her studies to answer a few questions at length about Violet, and what I learned was that to publish a Magazine That Doesn’t Suck, you have to run an obstacle course like something out of Super Mario Bros., barreling over mercurial investors, leapfrogging copycat competitors, and avoiding pits dug by unabashedly prejudiced vendors. It’s a wonder she has the stomach to try it again, but I for one am glad she does.

More with Keki after the jump.

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I’m a magazine junkie. Somewhere in my parents’ attic is the entire run of Sassy, as well as some late ’80s/early ’90s editions of Details and The Face. I also couldn’t resist junk-food equivalents like Right On!, Seventeen, Mademoiselle, and Vogue. I’ve generally curbed my habit to quality reading — Granta, Wax Poetics, The New Yorker — but occasionally I break down and buy some fluff to scowl at. My latest favorite object of derision is Cookie, which made the mistake of sending me a subscription invitation a month ago; I scrawled a kiss-off to the editor on it and returned it in their generously provided SASE. Of the many reasons I loathe Cookie, one is undoubtedly their apeing of superior mags, one of which is the now-suspended Violet.

Violet was the brainchild of Carolyn “Keki” Mingus, who wanted to create a magazine for people with children that didn’t assume they’re all Stepford wives and husbands. Yes, the cover subjects included the likes of Juliette Binoche and Donovan Leitch, but it covered them in a way that suggested that they’re muddling though parenthood and trying to create a good life for their kids like the rest of us. You could indulge in a little aspirational lifestyle reading without feeling completely sick to your stomach by the time you reached the last page; best of all, it took it for granted that children and parents come in all colors and deserve to be represented. Like Milk, but American, rainbow-hued, and less cool-cool obsessed.

Unfortunately, a year ago, subscribers received a postcard notifying them that publication was being suspended. Seeking an update, I caught up with Keki, who explained that her financial backer abruptly pulled out, leaving their in-a-garage operation in the lurch. She sounded pretty down about the situation, but talks with a new possible investor are ongoing and there may be some positive news in a month or so. Subscribers seem content to wait; Keki said that only two had requested their money back. Back issues of the original four-issue run are still available though the Violet website (but be patient — orders are filled once a month).

Why am I on about this? It’s just a parenting magazine, right? Well, I sometimes feel that issues surrounding our children are the last bastion where racism is tacitly allowable. (Look no further than the American school system, from daycare to academia, if you claim not to know what I mean.) Media representations of children and family — especially in magazines — reflect, on a basic level, what is considered adorable, desirable, supportable. As I wrote to Cookie’s editor, brown people have money and love their children, and I’m not interested in supporting any enterprise that actually works to pretend we don’t exist. So here’s hoping that Violet makes a much-needed return, on the double.

A few days ago I took The Scamp to a toy store; I try to stay a step or two ahead of his development, and it was time for a couple of new fun things to strew around his bedroom. I set him free to play with a train table, and I idly browsed some nearby Playmobil figure sets. Ninety-nine percent of the figures on the shelves were white, so I was surprised to spot a brown-faced veterinarian, complete with a doctor’s bag, an alligator, a lion, and a camel. I snatched it up immediately, and figured that when I got home, I could find more online at Playmobil’s website. (After all, if they have a black veterinarian, surely they have a couple of black children, a mom, a dad, a Moorish king, something.)

But no, actually, they don’t. Besides skeletons, Rebel and Union soldiers, and a HAZMAT crew, they have…American Indians in tribal dress. (I guess to go with the cowboys.) Disappointed, I emailed the German company and received a swift reply: “At this time we have not many multi-cultural figures. Thank you for your suggestion, we will pass it along.” I didn’t think it would be a novel concept to a German company that manufactures figures to play to American touchstones like the Civil War, Wild West standoffs, and HAZMAT personnel to also make some contemporary figures in a few shades of brown. Crazy me.

I can either build a wild-animal scene around our lone brown veterinarian, or I can give up on Playmobil for now and try Plan Toys or Ryan’s Room, both smart enough to make “ethnic” (black and Asian) family figures. There’s something about Playmobil’s style I really like, though, and I hate to abandon them; on the other hand, I think it’s important for my brown baby boy to see people like him represented in fantasyland.

(ETA: I found another one — a biker boy! Also settled on a zoo and a safari van. So we have a nice multiculti starter set after all. If there’s demand, maybe Playmobil will introduce more colored figures in its larger 4+ line. If not, we’ll have to settle for this tan surfer.)