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Read this if: You want to do an Olympic-level dive into the music industry. Credit: @wmebooks The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Critic by Jessica Hopper
First released in 2015, Hopper's collection includes bylines from zines, alt-weeklies, music blogs, and other outlets in Chicago, Brooklyn, and Portland from the early aughts to the late 2010s. This compendium features artist profiles on Kendrick and Chance; Pitchfork reviews of Kacey, Lana, and Big Star; interviews with Björk and Jim DeRogatis; an oral history of Hole's Live Through This; and a beautiful mini analysis that stems from a pic of Lady Gaga in airport security. There are 55 essays (compared to the original's 42), from a piece on the misogyny inherent to mainstream emo to a look at the commercial ouroboros that is Warped Tour to a condemnation of the notion that punk will "be good again" during the Trump era. One section, titled "Desire, Pleasure, Power," is immaculately sequenced with writings about Liz Phair, Cat Power, Kim Gordon, Joanna Newsom, and Nicki Minaj.
Read this if: You ever want to leave it all behind. Credit: Jessica Marx; Knopf Read an excerpt from Dana Spiotta's Wayward, BuzzFeed Book Club's August pick.
The next day, Sam slept until six, which was very late for her. She glanced over at her husband. Matt didn't get up until six-thirty, and when he was asleep, he looked peaceful and young. He was good in sleep. Not everyone was. Matt didn't snore, drool, or mouth-breathe. Sam went down to the kitchen, and she could hear the coffee already brewing. Ally was at the kitchen table, earbuds in, studying her Latin. Ally looked up, and Sam waved. Ally pressed pause on her music. "Good morning," Sam said, at once amazed and alarmed by how her child had become so self-sufficient. Ally pressed her lips together, shook her head slightly—she was, it seemed clear now, livid—and then she spoke:
"Go to your stupid house. I don't care what you do. This is better anyway. I don't want to live with you." Sam nodded. "Or talk to you, or have anything to do with you." "Come on, Ally. I know this is upsetting." "This is not upsetting. You, you, are upsetting." Stupidly, Sam reached out to Ally, touched her shoulder. Ally whipped away from her. "Do not!"
In the awkward days that followed, Ally wouldn't look at her or talk to her. Who was this girl, this tough, hard woman?
"Don't push her," Matt said, and Sam knew he was right, knew how it could backfire with Ally. The truth was that these days, Ally got along better with Matt than Sam. This had been true for a long time despite their being "as close as a mother and daughter could be" (as Sam once bragged to other adults). Sam thought she had escaped the rebellious teen thing, the whole "I can't stand my mother" drama that other moms complained about. But then there was the fiasco at the hospital, and, even before that, things had begun changing once Ally hit puberty. Sam could feel Ally separate, almost like a membrane ripping, except Sam didn't believe it. Ally became more distant, more self-sufficient, more of a mystery to Sam. Of course, whatever Sam had lost, Matt gained. Sam wasn't an idiot; she knew these things change and change again. She worked to not be too hurt when she walked in on Ally and Matt snickering and no one could explain what was so funny. So now, when Ally shut her out, Sam relied on Matt to be her conduit. He was good with parenting, albeit less passionate than Sam. He was practical and constant. So Sam longed for her, but she was used to her mother love being unrequited. Even now she told herself this was temporary, that she and Ally would be close again when Ally was in college, just as Sam was close with her own mother, Lily. She persisted in believing that Sam and Ally would be like Sam and Lily, despite many differences. For instance, Sam had never had a falling-out like this with her own mother. Why draw analogies between herself and her daughter? Ally was not her. (Which was good, wasn't it?)
Sam had to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. More From BuzzFeed |
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