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This is my friend. He’s a published author. Hell yeah.

INSIDE THE AUTHORS STUDIO with Peter Brannen

Peter Brannen is an award-winning science journalist whose work has appeared in the New York Times, Wired, Aeon, Washington Post, Slate, Boston Globe, and others. A graduate of Boston College, he was a 2015 journalist-in-residence at Duke University’s National Evolutionary Synthesis Center. His first book, THE ENDS OF THE WORLD: Volcanic Apocalypses, Lethal Oceans, and Our Quest to Understand Earth’s Past Mass Extinctions, is now available from Ecco.

The 10 Questions

What is your favorite word?  Archipelago 

What makes you laugh?  Clickhole

What makes you cry?  When I waste hours on Twitter

What is your favorite guilty pleasure?  4 consecutive bowls of Cocoa Krispies

What city or country would you most like to visit?  Mont Saint-Michel

What was your favorite childhood book?  The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

What is your favorite sitcom, past or present?  Pre-2000 The Simpsons

What is your favorite magazine?  Harper’s

What was your favorite movie of the past year?  Recently I’ve been diving into the Coen Brothers’ back catalogue and Barton Fink and Miller’s Crossing were both excellent.

If you could have a superpower, what would it be?  Time travel

Where to Find Peter …

Website: PeterBrannen.com

Twitter: @PeterBrannen1

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I keep rereading this. It helps, at least as much as alcohol.

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You... are willing to, if we develop the technology, have your consciousness uploaded onto the cloud so you can make social media content 24/7 while we use the now-useless shell of your body to fuel our servers.

https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/are-you-the-next-rock-star-social-media-manager-whos-willing-to-literally-die-for-content

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Life is a carnival (at Brooklyn Heights Historic District)

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undefined

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A little bit of everything (at Brooklyn Heights Promenade)

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Amatriciana #eeeeeats (at Brooklyn Heights Historic District)

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blueblockers and blue denim.

Robert Redford during the filming of DOWNHILL RACER (1969). Happy Sundance, everyone!

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I Can’t Trace Time: David Bowie Annoyed Me Into Being A Better Music Fan

David Bowie is an irreplaceable artist, but a challenging one that never shied away from discordance and change. We know now that’s what made him transcendent (smarter and better critical minds can go deeper in that argument for me thank you) but I have my own small example that was so important to me growing up, and has stuck with me all these years.

When I was around 13, I found a crate of records in the basement and fixed up my folks’ old turntable and stereo that hadn’t been used in a decade. My parents were not the music fans I am: my mom had a love of the Beatles, my dad The Band, but neither were as into b-side minutiae or songwriting credit as I became. If it was on The Big Chill soundtrack, that was about as deep as they went. But I craved more, and this turntable (combined with the Compaq Presario running Napster that came along a few years later) was my way in.

In the pile was nothing of note (it was my neighbor's son’s collection so it had a lot of Jethro Tull and AC/DC in it) and a few standouts that changed me: Rubber Soul (the UK import that started with “Drive My Car” which I hadn’t heard before), Frampton Comes Alive (come at me, bro) and ChangesOneBowie. I know, it’s a compilation, but before MP3 players these kinds of records were important, kid. It led me to buy Diamond Dogs, Ziggy and the other full albums soon after, but I wore out of those grooves.

I played it endlessly, and Bowie changed my music tastes for the better, because of one phenomenon I hadn’t encountered before that record: he frustrated the hell out of me. Up until this point, my steady and limited diet of the Beatles, Beach Boys, Rolling Stones, Who (and by extension Classic Rock Radio and 80′s/90′s pop) led me to believe that songwriting was a clean, tidy, and efficient endeavor. 3 minutes a song; 4 tops. ABAB rhyme structure. Intro-verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus-ending. Things varied, but rock and roll was mathematical and comfortable. Chuck Berry and Tin Pan Alley’s legacy.

But then the “Changes” chorus happened:

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (Turn and face the strange) Ch-ch-changes Don't want to be a richer man Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (Turn and face the strange) Ch-ch-changes Just gonna have to be a different man Time may change me But I can't trace time

Nothing bothered me more than this last line. Dave, buddy, you did it wrong, sorry to be the one to tell you, 20 years later. It should be “Time may change me/But I can’t change time” CHANGE. The name of the song is CHANGES. It’s a tidy little line, instantly quotable, just sitting there, waiting to be used. You fucked it up; you didn’t stick the landing.

The other rock gods wouldn’t have let that happen! Even if Lennon proposed it, McCartney would make him switch it. Jagger would overrule Richards too. Brian Wilson wouldn’t even let it get that far. How could you Bowie? The song is catchy; I’m into the weird tempo breaks and the sax. But you just cost yourself yearbook quotes and merchandising revenue and an adoring fanbase singing it back to you. Sorry pal, better luck next time.

I now know that that was the whole point. But then, at 13, it annoyed the shit out of me.

So that was my intro to Bowie: frustration. I didn’t stop listening; he light a fire in my mind and ears that grew out of control. It made me start to notice the plot holes and tonal discrepancies in the Who’s Tommy, and prefer it to their other albums. It put the non-rhyming tantric “Tomorrow Never Knows” on my discman’s repeat for days instead of “I Feel Fine.” I finally listened to Pet Sounds, which was also in the crate but I had falsely assumed it was the Kokomo-era Beach Boys and discarded it. And of course I got deeper and deeper down Bowie’s discography, learning to love and yet be surprised every time by his inability to be pinned down. Why didn’t “Heroes” have more urgency, it’s a rock anthem for chrissakes! Does liking “I’m Afraid of Americans” mean I like Nine Inch Nails and industrial rock too? What is this weird motown cover duet with Jagger? Who is Major Tom, an astronaut or an alien?

So thank you, David, for making me a better music fan by expanding my definition of what made a song great. Discordance is as essential to music as order, and David Bowie was beautiful discordance. 

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it me

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Star Man, waiting in the sky (at One World Trade Center)

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G-A-Double-F-I-G-A-N (at Madison Square Garden)

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#BCNYCXmas (at Upper Story by Charlie Palmer)

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Today in holiday themed GIF making.

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Spirit animal.

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#WeAreBC #BeatND (at House of Blues Boston)

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Well I did not think the girl could be so cruel. (at The Mods)