#christine goodwyne
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The thing about plans is: they necessitate optimism. You have to assume the world will keep turning for long enough to get to the plans in... The Future.
Three months ago, I went, "We should see the Pool Kids"... in Ohio! Somehow it made sense to fly 1200 miles to see them on a Thursday versus the normal hoops I have to jump through to see any band here in Texas (Austin and Denton are a Tuesday and a Wednesday. Any time I see a show in Texas, due to the fact that I live nowhere anyone would ever want to come on purpose, there is always extra time off to be requested for drive time -- 3ish hours for Denton, 4 hrs one way for Austin).
"Good Girls Go to Heaven, Bad Girls Go on Tour" also represents the Pool Kids' first foray out on the world as... headliners (starry eyes.)
I didn't write about the Pool Kids back in March. I should have. It would be a lot easier now to describe what they mean to me if I had.
The Pool Kids are a delightful anomaly in my own history. I discovered them 100% on my own. No outside influence what so ever. Doug and I simply lamented one night in late 2018/early 2019 that we really needed to find something closer by to do. Maybe something is happening close by and we don't even know it! Something that won't require... taking off time from WORK?! So I got on Spotify and searched for bands touring nearby -- within a 100 mile radius (Dallas is 186 miles). I looked at the results: someone called the Pool Kids. In San Angelo. 91 miles!!
They were the *only* band not wearing cowboy hats in their profile picture.
They're new (at the time) album was called "Music to Practice Safe Sex To." Ok. I put it on for a listen. Girl singer. Ugh. Not my thing. But anything to block out the random bullshit background noise in my office. I play it through. Eh. Doesn't Grab me.
Oh well, it was worth a try.
But time passes... brain says, "lizzz.... lizzz listen to that album again... lizzzz" Yes, brain, I do as you command.
And it grabs me.
It grabs me hard.
And I *love* it. I don't know why. I'm big on understandable lyrics. And I can't say I understand half of what is being said. But the melodies are gorgeous. I get goosebumps. Whatever she's talking about it, it's sad... and contemplative. And angry ("I should rip your throat out for what you've done to me...") Her voice is low for the most part. Something I've only learned about myself recently is I tend toward listening to voices that sound closer to my own and I'm a contralto.
When I look in to the band, I'm told it's "math rock." I have no fucking clue what that means (musicians have explained it to me: Complex time signatures. Key changes. Sounds like a new definition of "prog" to me. Close, the musicians tell me, but not quite.) Whatever. Don't make me label a thing. And for sure if you tell me it's "math rock" and then assume I will like other kinds of "math rock" I will refuse on principle. I pride myself on being harder to define in my tastes than that.
The reality? My finger is placed squarely on it later. "oooOOOOooo I see!" Hayley Williams from Paramore acknowledges and gives them props at some point... *that's* it. They remind me of the Paramore appreciation I gleaned from my time as a too-old-to-admit-it-Twihard. Simple.
We absolutely go to the San Angelo gig. Doug and I are easily the oldest people there -- old enough to be these kids' parents easily. The "De Nada" is a artsy thrift store during the day. At night, they push the clothing racks and other offerings against the wall and become a venue.
There are somewhere in the neighborhood of three to five bands. They all sort of run together. The only one I remember is a band from New Orleans. The lead singer is wearing a ruffly shirt and I'm pretty sure he wants to be the Vampire LeStat when he grows up. He does weird acrobatics. Somersaults? Paints his face with red lipstick.
The Pool Kids wail.
I am floored. They are actually kids (something you must know about me is I've been approximately 200 years old since I was in high school... I would have acknowledged their youth even if they had been OLDER than me at that point.) But the amount of rock they bring is amazing, jaw dropping. Lead singer Christine, SHREADS, does that "up-on-the-neck tapping" guitar thing I only saw as a kid stealing glances at MTV when Mom wasn't around (baby cousin posted look out at the door... promptly and cheerfully narc'd on me for doing something I wasn't supposed to).
I have a couple videos from that night on YouTube. One example being:
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We talk to them after. Doug wants to know about their influences. In the accidentally condescending way my brain works, since I’ve been 200 years old this whole time… I am interested to hear what they say. How do you cultivate that amount of raw power and instrument mastery at that age? The only thing I remember being mentioned was Pink Floyd.
Nice.
I come prepared. I cashed out my Christmas money before coming. Pretending to be a baller, I fan out the cash and buy as much of their merch as possible. It was $100, but the way all their eyes lit up, I felt important. And I loved it. I think Christine hugged me. I don’t really remember. I hope that got them lots of van gas and hot meals as they continued on their way… bringing the good news of rock to other points of the compass.
I was now flush with copies of their album. I sent one to Salim and one to Sue Harshe – a friend we made on a pilgrimage to see Scrawl (godmothers of riot grrl — look them up!) in Knoxville in 2015.
Fast forward…
Life changing time with Salim on the road Feb 2020… two last shows: Caroline’s Spine in Tulsa… And the Pool Kids in Houston. March 2020. On an impressive bill with the Wonder Years. Bigger! Poised for up up up bigger and better things.
Then the world ended.
But it got better….
(didn’t it?)
We saw them in Dallas this March at Amplified Live.
And I cried.
Not just a quiet trickle from the corner of my eye.
I cried hard. There they were. Rocking. Bigger and better. Christine working the crowd like a young Bono at Red Rocks. Coming in to herself. Coming into themselves as young rock gods. Master of the stage. Master of all they survey. I was just so in love with what I was seeing and hearing. So proud of them. So happy that we as humans were back. Able to watch a show like this and just be together again. Maybe everything would be ok after all.
I talked to Nicolette (complete bass domination — Doug commented much later that she seems to have the most fun performing on stage of anyone he’s ever seen… and his history as a fine appreciator of rock is ten years longer than mine) at the merch table later. Tried to get myself under control. Still had an embarrassing hitch in my throat. I have seen a LOT of good performances before, but none that have gotten that kind of response before.
She remembers me. I know not a huge amount of time has passed, but in their history and progression as a band and our progression as a now traumatized people… millennia has passed.
I am touched.
So now we are back up to current. They are headlining. Of course they are. They deserve every bit of this. Again I swell with pride though… I’ve backed a winning horse. This is rare. Usually when I love you, you break up (RIP People in Planes).
The deciding factor that made us pick Ohio though was two fold: first date of the tour and where it was: ACE OF CUPS. Ace of Cups was owned by the other half of Scrawl, Marcy Mays (what I didn’t know at the time was that Marcy no longer owns it as of the end of 2022.)
I Facebook squeal. Sue, I tag, can I take ANY sort of credit for this? She agrees that I can, but without elaboration. I don’t know if the credit comes in the fact that I just love them THAT much and have therefore done that “manifesting” thing I keep hearing about. I have WISHED this in to existence. In my happy mind movie though, back in 2019, Sue passes the album on to Marcy. Marcy agrees that they wail. Mentions as ownership of Ace of Cups passes from her, that the Pool Kids are really amazing and if they come by, you should totally get them. Pool Kids acquired.
Perhaps best to just enjoy my happy mind movies and not require further elaboration.
Back to present-present.
Flying always seems like such a doable thing until you (I) are there. I forgot my calm-down pills. The little white bits of magic that make the anxiety grey out for a few hours. There’s also that lull where you watch your airport gate fill up. Maybe *this* time the flight won’t be full.
It’s always full.
Leg one is to Atlanta. Short layover.
Text from Salim, “Can you talk at some point today?”
Literally, right now. This is the most available I will be all day.
So he calls. He’s had a health set back (read his Facebook… I never know what I’m allowed to talk about when it comes to other people.) Our trip that was on the books for the 07/21-07/27 with Rhett {Miller} is off. Off 100% sure? I am just trying to clarify for the purpose of undoing plans. But the voice that lives in my head and constantly tells me I’m an asshole pipes up. Way to make it about you. Jerk. He’s poorly and you are asking if the trip really, truly is off. That’s not what I meant. It’s never what I mean.
I am able to cancel all the hotels and get credit for the plane fare before we even line queue up for next boarding.
I have always had a sense for when something is meant to happen. I didn’t feel like this trip was a good idea. Salim is a big proponent for listening to the universe when it tells you something. I try to be too. We were all meant to stay here for now. I hate that he had to have something health related happen, but in the end… I think we will all realize we were supposed to stay home. Whether I get sick, or Doug, or one of the cats. Something will happen to make me go, “Oh. Here it is. I hear you, universe.” For Salim, I think his prescription is stillness. He is the most go-go-go person I know. He never stops swimming. Something wants him to stop swimming for right now.
This is ok. Seriously. I don’t mind and the only thing I am worried about is my friend.
So we board for hop to. Columbus. Our destination.
The flight is not bad. I feel optimistic. Maybe soon I will master my fear. Fly all the time like it’s not a big deal… maybe make an international jaunt before too long — an idea I’ve never entertained before.
We land at two-ish. Haven’t eaten. There’s a Bob Evans in our hotel’s parking lot. I’ve never been to a Bob Evans. It feels sort of like a Dennified Cracker Barrel. I don’t eat much. I drink even less (there’s that foreshadowing thing again).
We go back to our room and sleep. It’s good sleep. The bed is soft, but not too soft. We wake up at 6:30. Venue is a mile away. Doors at 7.
I primp a bit. No makeup this time. Though it’s easily 25 degrees cooler here than home and there are perceptible dark clouds that might mean a bit of rain if we behave ourselves. I could have worn makeup, but it doesn’t matter.
The venue… there’s that twinge in my chest again. It’s worse this time. But I am delighted. The stage is dark and light chevrons, the backdrop: red curtains. There’s a recognizable symbol on the wall (the thing that looks like an ant’s head with antennae on either side). This is what BLM would have looked like. We HAD the red curtains purchased — they are in our dining room now. The chevron design is a rug … that’s still rolled up in a corner and hasn’t been touched for a year now. Someone else is like me. They know. Again I don’t know if that was Marcy or the new owners and it doesn’t matter if I ask. It still exists. If I managed to walk any further back past the stage… there probably would’ve been owls. Schrodinger’s venue. By not exploring further, it contains all possibilities.
The first band is Chase Petra (the second is Sydney Sprague per the tour poster.) I didn’t look either up ahead of time. I have never given much credence to the idea that I could be influenced to love just by proximity to the band I came to see… but I instantly recognize this idea as false: I got Salim from being an opener. I got Jesse and Landon from Salim… sight unseen.
And I love them both.
Chase Petra is amazing. They are young and saucy. They have attitude. In keeping with the name of the tour, emphasis on “girls.” Chase Petra are 3/4 girl. And all power. The vibe is similar to the Pool Kids. A strong, young, shredding female vocalist, but the show stopper was the other guitarist. She was an eighties hair metal rock god reincarnate. All flying fingers and whipping hair.
It’s so FUCKING LOUD. The hair on my arms vibrates, my heart doesn’t know when to beat, my stomach vibrates.
I love them. The audience loves them too and shouts along with most of their songs.
Band two: Sydney Sprague. They are older. The bass player wears a neckerchief like Fred from Scooby Doo and commands a Moog in between bass slinging duties. The singer is all in black and reminds me of me. Same dark hair style and cut I kept in high school. She’s got a sweet voice, higher than the other girls on the bill. Their performance is a little more low key, but no less powerful. They are a fantastic, cohesive unit in total control of their art.
Someone further to my left up front has brought huge bunches of roses. One for each band. Chase Petra’s bunch lives on stage by their set list, Sydney receives hers like a beauty queen. All blushing and sweet thanks. “Fred” leans over and buries his nose in the bouquet for a moment.
Finally, the moment draws close. I am keenly aware that I am running out of time. I have spent energy enjoying the first two bands. I will pay for this. My spine continues to grind itself to sand, as I assume it will for the rest of my life. I have already remarked that it’s “hot in here.” Liz, it’s not, Doug says. Not good. I’ve had a total of maybe 4 ounces to drink today. All in the name of easier travel.
I’ve taken small moments in between each band to sit on the edge of the stage. I know I will eventually hinder something to do with the bands and their myriad cables and plugs, or the imposing young doorman with the impressive afro will come along and tell me to get up.
Neither.
It’s Nicolette the lovely bass player again. “Excuse me, I have to get in here,” I was sitting on a blank plate that ended up covering electrical sockets. I touch her shoulder. She looks at me. Ah, there’s the recognition. She’s glad to see me.
She puts out the setlist. I’m excited. But filled with dread. I have to last this long. I have to fight my own body for 12 songs and I’m already flagging… but it’s starting and I can’t think about it now.
Their entrance music is… “Sandstorm” and I’m dying. I’m ready to rave. But the music stops abruptly. Starts again. But the moment is gone. Oh well. They tried.
Christine is wearing white platform go go boots, short skirt, fishnets, midi top. Nicolette has an equally short skirt, neckerchief too, but there’s nothing Scooby Doo about hers. I don’t know where to look. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. They look amazing. Someone on TikTok later declares, “Their fits!!!” Fits… ‘fits… outfits? That has to be it. Woman have been weaponizing their sexuality since woman were admitted to the boys club that is rock music. Courtney Love’s ripped baby doll dresses and bruised innocence, L7 and… throwing… stuff… on stage, performing in bikinis, performing in too little, too much. Anything open for interpretation and therefore derision or scorn. But sexualizing is not cool anymore. I don’t know what kind of commentary I am allowed on this subject, but I am left echoing the same cry, “their fits!!” Their oufits, they are “fit”, they are there and raw and breathtakingly sexual and powerful. You don’t stare at the sun either, but you’ve done it. You’ve dared.
I also have a revelation. Role models. These people are amazing, iconic. I take a moment to bless the proliferation of media I’ve cursed in past. If I had access to these kinds of strong female role models as a teen, my life would have been completely different. I wouldn’t have let my mother’s flat declaration, “You aren’t good at music. PICK SOMETHING ELSE.” Turn me from my fated course.
It makes me happy that social media is exposing young people to bands like the ones on this bill. There’s hope for the future.
They open with “Swallow,” one of the songs on my revised Ketamine playlist. There’s a bit of treated vocal that is the absolutely definition of why music is good. Music should give you that thrill like sticking your head out of the window of a moving car. That drop in your stomach. Momentary breathlessness.
Can’t put my finger on it
Don’t know what makes it so appealing
I’m not begging for your affection
I’m just addicted to the feeling…
Two songs in. Time for the third. How many people here were around for our first album – Music to Practice Safe Sex to? ME!! MEEEEeeeeeEEEE…. I scream. You can hear it on the video. I should be embarrassed. I’m too old to be reacting like this. But I got such a late start…
The music doesn’t know the social constructs of age or sex… it just knows what feels good.
The “Safe Sex” portion of the show is two songs long. This makes me sad. You never forget the album you came in on. It’s a much more forlorn sounding album though. I know from Salim that the forlorn ones don’t get people dancing. But “Patterns,” ah… I would have lost my mind for “Patterns.”
And I spent one too many nights banging my head against the wall to hear another voice telling me that I’m doing something wrong
So excommunicate me
You’re no better than the fucked up doctrine that sent me running to your doorstep in the first place
Fucked up doctrine. My youth is fucked up doctrine. My memories are tainted by it. I still wonder how they can wield so much word power at such a young age, but then again these struggles are as old as the generations. As long as their have been the elder and the younger, the subjugator and the subjugated, rulers, oppressed, one group will chafe against the other. It hurts the heart, grinds down the soul… but it makes the music amazing.
We make art, music, poetry, to feel hope.
I make it almost to the end… almost… Talk Too Much: Christine does the young Bono thing and goes out in to the crowd. Several times a mini mosh pit has broken out right where she is. At some point, someone flicks beer on us… at least I hope it was beer. Ugh. I am done. The anesthetized feeling starts in my finger tips.
I am going to pass out.
I mouth to Doug, “I have to go. NOW.” I head for the stool previously occupied by the imposing young doorman. I lay my head on the counter for a second. I wait to be booted off. I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve passed out, tried to pass out, and all stages in between for years, in myriad venues in cities all across the US. I like to be in the front. My constitution takes issue with this. But I do it anyway.
I try to gesture to Doug: thumb at my lips, fingers curved around an invisible cup. Drink. Please I need water. But there are too many people.
Next best thing: air. I lurch out the door and land on the pavement beside the door. The Kids are launching in to an encore. I can’t heard what it is. Doug is on his phone summoning the Uber. Imposing Young Doorman Man appears… with a cup of ice water in his hand. THANK YOU, DEAR BLESSING, SIR! You have no idea how many people normally just go, ‘YOU — you can’t sit there!’ (Hi, La Zona Rosa in Austin… the scuzzy incarnation not the gentrified one) even though I’m pretty sure if you kick me out of your establishment while swooning and I faceplant on the cement, I could sue you. Or something.
People aren’t normally friendly about it because they assume I drank too much… when it’s the opposite: I didn’t drink at all.
The Uber appears and we are whiskered away. I still couldn’t hear what the encore was. But I’m not sad. I got most of it and it was AMAZING. Nicolette saw me so I exist. Mission accomplished.
We are back in the hotel. Doug orders Denny’s Doordash. The thing about prolonged exposure to sonic assault is: nausea. Nothing sounds good. Until Doug says… macaroni and cheese. And I know EXACLTY what kind Denny’s has because I’ve noticed it on the menu before. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t pretend to be something else. It is real: really Kraft boxed mac… and at that moment it sounds like the AMBROSIA of the GODS.
Which is exactly what it tastes like.
I am replenished. The gods of rock are appeased for another night …
#singer#songwriter#guitarist#shred#christine goodwyne#caden clinton#nicolette alvarez#andy anaya#headliner#on tour#good girls go to heaven#bad girls go on tour#sydney sprague#chase petra#math rock#depression#swallow#talk too much#patterns#music to practice safe sex to#columbus#ohio#ace of cups#wail#pool kids band#denny's#bob evans#kraft#mac and cheese#ambrosia
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Pool Kids - “Arm’s Length”
Photo by Karalyn Hope
Florida has a lot of issues, but impossibly good emo rock isn’t one of them. Tallahassee’s Pool Kids are the real deal, with their eponymous sophomore effort on the way via Skeletal Lightning, an underrated label who has recently put out standouts by Maneka and Rainer Maria’s Caithlin de Marrais. “Arm’s Length” is its latest preview, a full-throttle diary entry shouted out loud where vocalist and guitarist Christine Goodwyne puts on a fireworks display in exorcising her intimacy issues -- and a comforting irony at that considering she has us assessing our own right there with her. Bassist Nicolette Alvarez, guitarist Andy Anaya, and drummer Caden Clinton help her calculate the risk-taking measures over a sound that’s got the huge feelings of a Jimmy Eat World or Paramore track, but does the math of it all harder.
Directed by: Dan Watt
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Pool Kids’ Pool Kids will be released July 22nd on Skeletal Lightning.
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Pool Kids - "Pool Kids" Album Review
I often describe Pool Kids as “Paramore with math rock riffs,” but that’s mostly just to get my friends to listen to them. In reality, the Florida emo quartet are much more than that — and they make it explicitly clear on their incendiary, emotional and appropriately self-titled sophomore album.
Hayley Williams (who famously shouted the band out in 2019) has certainly never wailed lines as bitingly specific as “I don’t think I have the energy to make it out of my bed today / it’s not even a bed, I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress with a hole for almost three months” like vocalist/guitarist Christine Goodwyne does on “Arm’s Length,” an exuberant anthem about pushing people away. And while Goodwyne, guitarist Andrew Anaya, bassist Nicolette Alvarez and drummer Caden Clinton can go note-for-note with any of their mathy scene contemporaries, there’s a level of mature restraint in their performances that makes this a record of great rock songs first, and shredfests second. Whereas debut record “Music to Practice Safe Sex To” — written solely by Goodwyne and Clinton — has moments that seem to throw as many notes at the listener as possible (“$5 Subtweet” is an absolute ripper, but still), new songs like “Swallow” see the band’s entire lineup channel their aptitude into focused, triumphantly big riffs and even bigger choruses.
Fiery album opener “Conscious Uncoupling” perfectly encapsulates Pool Kids’ evolved songwriting, as Goodwyne softly and bluntly mourns a past relationship (“I bet I’m never gonna clean this house again / I bet I’m never gonna see your mom again”) before the whole thing bursts into the swirly, harmonized guitar work that the band does best. The quartet fearlessly journeys through different musical palettes from there — experimental standout “Almost Always Better” blends electronic waltzes and sudden, industrial-tinged key changes, while “Further” flirts with dancey indie rock. Bouncy emo banger “That’s Physics, Baby” and moody alt-rock rager “I Hope You’re Right” are both begging for radio play, and “Talk Too Much” does pop-punk better than some bands that are dedicated to it. It all culminates in closer “Pathetic”, which starts off with a folky vulnerability that would be right at home on Williams’ recent solo effort “Flowers for Vases.” That is, of course, before the whole thing explodes, with Goodwyne pleading “What can we make of this?” — ending the breakup story that began on the intro track — while her bandmates create a crushing wall of sound.
It’s all immaculately produced by Mike Vernon Davis, with enough gloss to fit in on the rock charts but still raw enough to preserve the four-piece’s lively performances. The band aren’t shy about layering on extra instrumentation — including some chorus-boosting pianos and an awesome vocoder moment — but the real stars of the show are Anaya’s shreddy guitars, Alvarez and Clinton’s airtight, adventurous rhythm section work and Goodwyne’s vocals, which are equally captivating whether she’s quietly crooning or letting all hell break loose.
A self-titled record is a bold proclamation of confidence — especially when it arrives as early into a band’s career as “Pool Kids” has. But this is a band whose prodigal pop songwriting and punchy prog shredding belies their relative youth. It’s wild to think they’re just getting started.
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He’s a 6-time nominee for Publicist of the Year during Canadian Music Week, a 19-time JUNO Award winner overseeing PR campaigns including 3 in 2021, and worked over 50 Maple Blues Award winners, over 40 Canadian Folk Music Award winners, and truly honoured to work with some of the biggest and most important artists of our time. Past and present clients include Ringo Starr, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Barry Manilow, Bob Geldof, Pete Seeger, Jerry Garcia, Monty Python, Randy Bachman, Nickelback, Sinead O’Connor, Steve Miller, The Smashing Pumpkins, Little Big Town, Black Label Society, Natalie MacMaster, DJ Khaled, Carole King, Jimmy Webb, Harmonium, Billy Ray Cyrus, Curt Smith, Rita MacNeil, Dr. John, Dwight Yoakam, Fred Eaglesmith, Joey Alexander, Ani DiFranco, Harry Shearer, Dan Zanes, Opeth, Cradle Of Filth, Jordan Knight, Chickenfoot, Bush,best free website builder and hosting Duran Duran, Jeff Dunham, A-Trak, Judy Collins, Ashanti, Supersuckers, Joan Baez, Slash, Andy Kim, Robert Palmer, Rival Sons, Denise Donlon, Cécile McLorin Salvant, Alex Chilton, The Drifters, Colin James, Kathy Valentine, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Pussy Riot, Steve Gorman (Black Crowes), Lori Cullen, Murray McLauchlan, MonkeyJunk, Lee Aaron, Jane Bunnett, Jason Blaine, Dan Talevski, Gloryhound, Steve Vai, Big Sugar, Jesse Winchester, Liona Boyd, Sweet Honey In The Rock, Joan Armatrading, Wanda Jackson, Amy Ray, Jake Clemons, Kevin McDonald, Matt Andersen, John Prine, Jesse Cook, Of Montreal, Kris Kristofferson, Eva Avila, Snoop Dogg, Robert Munsch, Bilal, J. Dilla, Allman Brothers, Ben E. King, Fred Penner, Sue Foley, Kenny Shields and Streetheart, Sesame Street, Xzibit, The Wiggles, Bill Wyman, Sass Jordan, Midge Ure, Sasha & Digweed, Jimmy Rankin, Light Of Day Canada, Speech from Arrested Development, Paul Reddick, Alpha Blondy, Unearth, Kiran Ahluwalia, Public Enemy, Joe Budden, Mobb Deep, Sly and Robbie, Taking Back Sunday, Ziggy Marley, Underworld, The Wild, Quasimoto, Barney Bentall, Yesterdays New Quintet, Mayer Hawthorne, Lunch At Allen’s, Kensington Market Jazz Festival, The Cadillac Lounge in Toronto, Crystal Shawanda, The Mission UK, Cracker, Daniel O’Donnell, Madvillain, Frank Black, BadBadNotGood, Diana Panton, KRS-One, Aloe Blacc, Pete Rock, 54-40, Bonnie Bramlett, Janis Ian, 98 Degrees, Sundy Best, Emilie-Claire Barlow, Paul Oakenfold, Jake Miller, Solomon Burke, Devin Townsend, J Rocc, The Black Angels, Megadeth, Carl Cox, DJ Dan, Barbara Cook, David Archuleta, Downchild Blues Band, John Zorn, Leeroy Stagger, Ghostface Killah, DJ Drama, Slaughterhouse, Shooter Jennings, Everclear, Cormega, Andre Rieu, Dearly Beloved, Carole Pope, The Standstills, Diemonds, Secret Broadcast, Die Mannequin, Steve Earle, Dillinger Escape Plan, Raekwon, Matt Dusk, High On Fire, Slum Village, Christina Martin, Indian City, Autorickshaw, Bif Naked, Carl Dixon, Ori Dagan, The Smithereens, Carol Welsman, Bruce Cockburn, Hatebreed, Streetlight Manifesto, The Mahones, The Game, Thursday, Eric Bibb, Mick Fleetwood, The Prodigy, Third World, Duke Robillard, Heather Bambrick, Michael Kaeshammer, Jay Douglas, Max Parker, Myles Goodwyn, The Spoons, Madlib, Dio, Deborah Cox, Honeymoon Suite, Ian Anderson, Kim Mitchell, Pop Evil, In Flames, Amy Helm, Barbra Lica, Polina Grace, Maestro Fresh Wes, Katharine McPhee, Lorraine Segato, Tom Wilson, Ministry, Miss Emily, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Ray J, RJD2, Jurassic 5, DJ Z-Trip, Alchemist, The Kings, Chali 2NA, Steven Van Zandt, Gino Vannelli, The Boxer Rebellion, The Irish Rovers, King Crimson, Jean-Michel Jarre, Michel Petrucciani, Steve Hackett, Mastodon, All Time Low, Madness, The Cult, Jim Jones, Tom Russell, The Guess Who, Turbonegro, Charlatans UK, Master P, Asking Alexandra, The Trews, Los Lobos, Steve Forbert, Jesus Jones, Howard Tate, Electronic, Freddy Cole, Stereolab, Tim Booth, The Nylons, Christine McVie, RZA, The English Beat, Porcupine Tree, MF Doom and hundreds more.
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Third Thursday August 15
The next Third Thursday — the monthly evening of art in Athens, Georgia — is scheduled for Thursday, August 15, from 6 to 9 p.m. All exhibitions are free and open to the public.
This Third Thursday will offer three events in addition to the exhibitions. None of the venues will be closed.
Georgia Museum of Art, University of Georgia
Yoga in the Galleries, 6 p.m. — Join us for a yoga class surrounded by works of art in the galleries. Led by instructors from Five Points Yoga, this program is free and open to both beginner and experienced yogis. Space is limited and available on a first-come, first-served basis; tickets are available at the front desk starting at 5:15 p.m. Yoga mats provided.
On view:
“Larger Than Life: Mural Studies” — Studies for murals, some of which were created as part of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal programs.
“Women of the WPA” — Works by Lucienne Bloch, Marie Bleck, Marguerite Redman Dorgeloh, Helen Lundeberg, Minnetta Good, Jennie Lewis, Ann Nooney, Elizabeth Olds and others.
“Celebrating Heroes: American Mural Studies of the 1930s and 1940s from the Steven and Susan Hirsch Collection” — Almost 50 drawings that provide an intimate look at the thinking processes of artists who competed for New Deal mural commissions in the 1930s and 1940s.
“Color, Form and Light” — This focused exhibition consists of rarely seen works from the permanent collection or on long-term loan.
“Storytelling in Renaissance Maiolica” — Colorful tin-glazed earthenware from 16th-century Italy, including two new acquisitions by the museum.
“Drama and Devotion in Baroque Rome” — Paintings on loan from the Museum and Gallery at Bob Jones University that show the influence of Caravaggio, including works by Rubens, Orazio Gentileschi and Simon Vouet.
Permanent Collection — Thirteen galleries house a large portion of the Georgia Museum of Art's collection, including many of the 100 American paintings that made up Alfred Heber Holbrook's founding gift.
Lamar Dodd School of Art Galleries, University of Georgia
“Fountain: Melissa Brown & Jaime Bull” — Melissa Brown’s paintings and Jaime Bull’s sculptures in this exhibition play broadly with notions associated with fountains, including the source from which inspiration spurts.
“Brittainy Lauback: Liberty” — Athens-based photographer Brittainy Lauback embarked on a five-day vacation on the Carnival Liberty cruise ship in order to capture the decadence and leisure promised to American cruisers. Lauback turned her camera away from the obvious seascapes and sunsets and instead focused on the details of cruise life.
“Adam Sipe: Ring Wren & Turtle” — Adam Sipe's series of small paintings are both a mumble and a command. Sipe works quickly and intuitively. What emerges from this call and response is swift meditations on color, space and line. Abstract and vaguely figurative, the paintings engage with a lineage of modernist painting recalling late Picassos and Morandi's still lifes.
Lyndon House Arts Center
Closing Event: “A Century of Art: Athens Art Association,” 6 p.m. — Co-curated by Christine Langone, and Celia Brooks, the exhibition features works by long-time members Lucy May Stanton, Sallie Goodwyn, Millie Dearing, Rainey Gentry, Joan Hill, Connie Flynn, Nancy Roberson, Jean Gibson, Hildegarde Timberlake and more.
Also on view:
“Easement,” by Sarah Cowan White in the Lounge Gallery
Collections from Our Community: Nena Gilreath's Barbies
ATHICA: Athens Institute for Contemporary Art
“YELLOW: 2019 Juried Exhibition” – “YELLOW” is ATHICA’s annual juried exhibition, featuring contemporary art in all media that explores or references YELLOW, which is found in art, nature, literature, science, society and language as a color, a concept and a construct with many different connotations. Work has been juried by guest juror Kevin Sipp, Cultural Affairs and Public Art Coordinator for the City of Atlanta Office of Cultural Affairs Public Art Program and Gallery 72.
Ciné
“Evan Morgan,” reception, 6 – 8 p.m. — Evan Morgan is an Athens-based artist and tattooer working at Truth & Roses Tattoo on the back side of the Chase Street warehouses. He was born and raised in Hawaii, which instilled in him a love of nature and Japanese printmaking. This collection of birds and botanicals are painted with Sumi-e ink washes and vermillion. These paintings are reflections on the little moments he catches while out in the garden or walking in the woods.
Hotel Indigo, Athens
“SPOTLIGHT 2019” — SPOTLIGHT, an exhibition series, provides an opportunity to look deeper into an artist’s work and practice. Fourth in the Spotlight series, this summer features prints by Columbus-based artist Elizabeth McFalls and paintings by Maggie Davis and Jeanne Ann Davidson.
“Keepin it Classic” – This installation by Taylor Shaw acts as a roadside attraction, drawing the viewer in with bright 90s colors and nostalgic imagery much the same way a Florida orange stand would. The imagery found within the letters pays homage to things quintessentially “Athens.”
The Classic Center
“Checkerboard Checkered Floor” — An exhibition exploring pattern play is on view in Classic Gallery I. Featuring the boxy abstractions of Cal Clements, the black-and-white patterned interiors of Hanna Friedlander, Jess Machacek’s ombré assemblages, Jared Brown’s bouncy, poppy paintings and Courtney McCracken’s marbled geometric combination collages.
“See Dan Paint” — A solo exhibition of Moby Dicks and large paintings by Dan Smith in Classic Gallery II.
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Third Thursday was established in 2012 to encourage attendance at Athens’ established art venues through coordination and co-promotion by the organizing entities. Rack cards promoting Third Thursday and visual art in Athens are available upon request. This schedule and venue locations and regular hours can be found at 3thurs.org.
Contact: Michael Lachowski, Georgia Museum of Art, [email protected].
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