In our morning reading: an interview with Ling Ma, thoughts on reading and procrastination, and more.
Notes on a Night at Quinn’s, Late February: Featuring Joe McPhee, Michael Bisio, Chris Corsano, Steve Swell
No More Beatlemania, Once Was Enough!
It’s Time for Joe McPhee, Michael Bisio, Chris Corsano & Steve Swell Mania!
The entrance to Quinn’s is crowded. I start looking for familiar faces, but then I find myself doing math, calculating fractions, rounding, converting to percentages. Who else is masking? How do the numbers compare to my classroom? To the grocery store?
For the first time in two years, I’m at Quinn’s to see live music, and it’s weird. Beyond the obvious emerging-from-a-pandemic reasons, Quinn’s is for sale, which kicks things in a different direction, makes me wonder how much longer this scene is going to last. Then again, I’ve had similar thoughts since I first came to Quinn’s. That’s part of what motivated me to write a book about the place—I didn’t think it could keep going.
Weekend Bites: Vanessa Veselka’s Playlist, Joe McPhee, John Langan Interviewed, Henry Hoke, and More
In our weekend reading: a playlist from Vanessa Veselka, an interview with John Langan, and more.
Afternoon Bites: Joe McPhee, Lisa Locascio Nonfiction, Tim Horvath, Jenny Boully’s Essays, and More
In our afternoon reading: exploring a new record from Joe McPhee, fiction by Tim Horvath, thoughts on Jenny Boully’s essay collection, and more.
Morning Bites: Mariana Enríquez on Writing, Mark Fisher, Brian Dillon Interviewed, Joe McPhee and Hamid Drake, and More
In our morning reading: thoughts on writing from Mariana Enríquez, an interview with Brian Dillon, and much more.
Afternoon Bites: Frances de Pontes Peebles, Joe McPhee Revisited, Joshua Cohen, and More
In our afternoon reading: an excerpt from Frances de Pontes Peebles’s new novel, exploring the music of Joe McPhee, and much more.
The New Old Noise: A Review, of Sorts, of “The Other Night At Quinn’s,” by Mike Faloon
Say we’re in Ithaca, New York. Or in a bookstore basement in Cleveland, folding metal chairs arranged in a loose semi-circle around an institutional podium. Or even a Chicago Sunday matinee, chairs this time arranged in gunmetal rows. The trappings remain the same. So does the reception, the usual reliable in each town, former zine contributors, people in bands, friends from school. The odd reader who found one of our books and came out.