#Arbor Labor Union

[omegaplus]

# 4,356

Omega Radio for March 11, 2023; #346.

Chives, The: "Your Mom's A Bitch"

Moron: "Mosquito Trap"

Horsegirl: "It's Obvious"

Throwaway: "Dinosaur"

Gut Health: "Barbarella"

Cheekface: "Headache"

TVOD: "Goldfish"

Easy Bruiser: "I Hate Thursdays"

Gloop: "I Never Really Knew"

Rotary Club: "American Tower"

Dazy & Militarie Gunn ft. Mannequin Pussy: "Pressure Cooker" (RMX)

Grocer: "Smooth Operator"

Deady: "Eat Sleep"

Cel Ray: "Clorox Wipes"

Body Type: "Miss The World"

Wombo: "Snakey"

Dumb: "Sleep Like A Baby"

Horse Lords: "May Brigade"

Rip Room: "Dead When It Started"

Blonde Revolver: "Lipstick & Leather"

Arbor Labor Union: "Hovering Stone"

Corker: "Lice"

Maraudeur: "C'est Cache"

Alpha Hopper: "Glows, Explodes"

Mamalarky: "Mythical Bonds"

Scare Quotes: "Tomato"

Diacatorci: "Parasito"

Jade Hairpins: "Mary Magazine"

Viagra Boys: "Ain't No Theif"

Fake Fruit: "Over Ice"

Guerilla Toss: "Heathen Money"

Namesake: "Operational"

TV Priest: "One Easy Thing"

Post-punk, d.i.y., and city sounds.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Arbor Labor Union - Yonder

The Meat Puppets and the Minutemen shared plenty of bills back in the SST glory days — and Arbor Labor Union's Yonder feels like a very tasty blend of both of those classic bands' aesthetics. Maybe if the Puppets and the 'men had taken a long cross-country drive together listening to nothing but the Allman Brothers' Eat A Peach? Yeah, maybe. The songs are generally short and sharp, filled with skewed hooks, locked-in rhythms and sweetly helter-skelter twin guitar interplay. Jamming econo, perhaps, but you can imagine ALU stretching things out nicely in a live setting — especially the kraut-country rock radness of "Forevergreen." Go Yonder!

[bandcampsnoop]

12/4/22.

I've been posting and buying music from Jeffersonville, Indiana based label Sophomore Lounge for years (I think they used to be based in Louisville). I remember my first purchase was to send them $50 an in return receive a smorgasbord of vinyl. The run a label that is fiercely independent but really diverse. Go to their Bandcamp page - you'll hear folk, hard rock, punk and much more.

Arbor Labor Union (Atlanta, Georgia) fit more into the indie rock label. Or better yet, I'll borrow a label from the Bandcamp page - "punk-informed weirdo Southern Rock". A couple of years ago I bought the excellent Huevos II LP, and Arbor Labor Union have a similar feel. However, they have a little more Parquet Courts and Meat Puppets in their DNA.

This is in the pre-order stage and will release in early January.

[rgr-pop]

if i was a normal level of unwell right now i’d be baking a loaf of bread. i don’t want to have to leave the house tomorrow and i can’t bring myself to go to this stupid womens meeting. i have been so clear that i can’t do non constructive meetings that don’t specifically need me right now because i’m worn so thin, but if i don’t come on my sunday off i’ll lose credibility and these other orgs won’t work on the abortion fund projects. it feels like it’s always all on me to defend the value of doing repro work— and sometimes that’s okay and as you know i’m stepping up to work on this structural problem. but the problem is that if i show any signs of fragility—or god forbid say, “i need my sunday to myself this week,” or even worse, “my pet snail is dying and it’s going to impact my productivity for a week,” what i will be told is, well, you don’t have the capacity to sustain this work, so we’re going to stop working on it.

and the problem isn’t exactly that i’m the only one doing it (right now for example i have a street outreach brigade pamphleting hash bash lol in ann arbor, a political research crew prepping for the leg piece, a new Posting partnership planned for soon, the fundraiser ask is being made by someone else, plus some workings in a second chapter… look at me defending the work to you!), but we don’t have quite everyone with ownership over the project yet (which you build to) and, as i’ve said, everyone is depending all their willingness to not put up walls around this on whether or not i personally look energized and perfect and like i know everything every time they see me. meanwhile i want only one thing all the time (to kill myself). and i can’t be in this position because i’m not doing great. but i’m an ill and severely mentally ill person who can—i know—do a couple hours a week of organizing most weeks. and i believe you can build effective campaigns that bring in more people and build capacity and bolster people’s belief in the power working collectively for 2-10 hours a week can have to change people’s lives and make them feel mostly better rather than mostly worse. it’s important to me to hold that line. but i personally can’t survive being scolded by social workers (anarchists) and sociopaths (postleninists and social movement strategists) not to mention the regular misogynists who I HAVE TO PRESENT THIS TO IN A WEEK HOPING THAT THEY DONT DO SOMETHING MEAN TO SCARY TO ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!

anyway the thing is that i’m so fragile that i don’t see a way where this consciousness raising or whatever meeting doesn’t ruin my mood for the next few days, because every single one so far has been so bad it has edged on a traumatic experience. and i have to deal with that on top of everything else i have in my life (snail dying, baby, ANTS, being solely responsible for housework and most bills, feeding myself on no money, medical appointments, all my loved ones in crisis due to being poor women, eclipse???, my union, eating disorder, chronic pain, SNAIL DYING). and if you were a loser wannabe social worker you might say “it sounds like you don’t have capacity to organize” and, WRONG. i don’t have the capacity to waste two hours of my life + the bus travel on a consciousness raising meeting where someone tells me what’s wrong about me. and i disagree with the relational organizing (or even post bernie labor type) partisans a who say, that’s where the organizing happens. i disagree and i have a different theory of how this works (i may be inventing a caucus lol). and most importantly i think that i personally am more like a majority of working class women than i’m different. the main thing that makes me most different from other working class women is how much time i commit to communism. i want to change this!!!

today i need to work on things but i’m focused on my snail and the feelings around this. i’m having a hard time feeding myself. i don’t think crying on a saturday with my dying pet snail while managing mental illness during an eclipse makes me someone who can’t organize and i do NOT think getting psychologically torn to shreds by a social worker in training or a social movement strategist trying to force me to do drugs at a retreat is going to make me a better organizer.

j invited us over after the meeting and i’m overcome with guilt about coming empty handed. i miss him. i saw him in passing at the last meeting. he makes me happy and feel better. i don’t think i should be with him because i worry all i can do is complain. and he will be reminded why everyone hates me et cetera. but after i saw him that day when i wanted to die he reached out right after and said do you guys want to come over for dinner.

i can’t do the dishes. i made sniva a carrot. she got up to eat it. her trapdoor is so withered but i don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go on reddit to think about it. i want her to live six more days. i genuinely don’t know whether i’m neglecting her or should let it be. i am almost sure there is nothing i can do to fix her trapdoor. i’m going to do a small water change/replacement tonight if i can be upright enough. that’s it!! im as good as murdering her

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for March 11, 2023; #346.

Chives, The: “Your Mom’s A Bitch”

Moron: “Mosquito Trap”

Horsegirl: “It’s Obvious”

Throwaway: “Dinosaur”

Gut Health: “Barbarella”

Cheekface: “Headache”

TVOD: “Goldfish”

Easy Bruiser: “I Hate Thursdays”

Gloop: “I Never Really Knew”

Rotary Club: “American Tower”

Dazy & Militarie Gunn ft. Mannequin Pussy: “Pressure Cooker” (RMX)

Grocer: “Smooth Operator”

Deady: “Eat Sleep”

Cel Ray: “Clorox Wipes”

Body Type: “Miss The World”

Wombo: “Snakey”

Dumb: “Sleep Like A Baby”

Horse Lords: “May Brigade”

Rip Room: “Dead When It Started”

Blonde Revolver: “Lipstick & Leather”

Arbor Labor Union: “Hovering Stone”

Corker: “Lice”

Maraudeur: “C'est Cache”

Alpha Hopper: “Glows, Explodes”

Mamalarky: “Mythical Bonds”

Scare Quotes: “Tomato”

Diacatorci: “Parasito”

Jade Hairpins: “Mary Magazine”

Viagra Boys: “Ain’t No Thief”

Fake Fruit: “Over Ice”

Guerilla Toss: “Heathen Money”

Namesake: “Operational”

TV Priest: “One Easy Thing”

Post-punk, d.i.y., and city sounds.

[homerstroystory]

URGENT: University of Michigan Classics graduate student instructors are on strike and need your help

see below cut for information on UM's actions to sabotage its graduate students, the Department of Classics' complacency, and a signable letter of solidarity.

Dear [Colleagues],

I am reaching out on behalf of the graduate students in the Department of Classics at the University of Michigan to ask if you might consider signing and circulating within your departmental or Classics-adjacent listservs a letter calling for Michigan faculty to refrain from submitting Graduate Student Instructors' grades while we are on strike for a fair contract.

Our graduate student union (GEO) has been in contract negotiations with Academic HR for the majority of this past academic year, but AHR has not bargained in good faith. Notably, they have refused to grant graduate student instructors a living wage, despite a skyrocketing cost-of-living in Ann Arbor. Our current contract from 2020 stipulates a 10.1% wage increase over three years, whereas the inflation rate from 2020–2023 exceeded 15%, according to the US government’s standard index. AHR’s most recent pre-strike offer of an 11.5% wage increase over the next three years would not bring graduate students to even the inflation-adjusted baseline of our 2020 contract. The raise would include a 5% raise in the first year, an effective pay cut (as current inflation rates are an estimated 6-7%). The proposed contract's raise is even lower for our colleagues on Detroit and Dearborn campuses, despite a similar cost of living, with a 2% raise in the first year.

When GEO went on strike on March 29, the University immediately took legal action by filing an injunction against the union rather than attempting first to resolve matters at the bargaining table. GEO defeated the injunction on April 10, but the University has continued to refuse good-faith bargaining and instead has called upon faculty to submit final grades in the place of their striking Graduate Student Instructors. On April 20, GSIs noticed in their accounts that wages for the pay period of April 1–30 would be withheld on the basis of attestation forms, leaving us with a total of $100 for the month of April, even though 10 days of the pay period remained outstanding. On that same day, President Santa Ono called the police to detain two graduate students who were protesting outside of the restaurant in which he was having dinner (the two students were later released).

Unfortunately, the Classics department has adhered to the University’s line every step of the way. Our faculty have not only taught classes in our stead, undermining the power of graduate students to withhold our labor in pursuit of a fair contract, but they have taken on immense grading loads which would be entirely impossible to complete without a considerable cut to pedagogical quality. In certain cases, faculty who had no prior affiliation with a course have stepped in to submit incorrect grades for students while knowing that graduate student instructors were withholding components of those students’ grades. The graduate students in this department have attempted to communicate with and educate our faculty on the importance of respecting our strike throughout the last month, but we have received minimal engagement from the majority of professors. We have no choice but to turn to the wider academic community as a last resort, in the hopes that our faculty will listen to you when they won’t listen to us.

Please consider signing this letter and passing it onto your networks—not just for the wellbeing of graduate students here at the University of Michigan, but for the wellbeing of our undergraduate students as well.

 

Kindly,

[Graduate Student at UM Classics]

signable letter of solidarity

[bisexualchrissycunningham]

👻 for the fic writing asks :)

👻 Have you written holiday-themed fics? If yes, which is your fave? If not, what’s one holiday you’d want to write for, and which character(s) would the fic be for?

I couldn't actually remember so I had to go scrolling through my AO3 history and I did indeed write something vaguely Christmas-themed. Context is needed for the title, but I kinda wanna just not give it and see what you make of it - bromance: mistletoe edition (it's a sequel lol). A friends turned lovers ship where one of them used to be a frat guy, there is horrendous amounts of intense innuendo and flirting and PDA in front of their friends and they bail to fuck a lot under the massive amount of mistletoe one of them purposefully put up to force lots of making out.

I subscribe to the "Eddie was born around Halloween" headcanon so I would really love to write a Halloween-themed 🎃 Hellcheer fic at some point that combines lots of over the top Eddie dialogue, many costume changes and Chrissy insisting they celebrate his birthday by fucking on top of a grave in a cemetery (Chrissy loves Mary Shelley, pass it on).

A new headcanon appeared in a lightbulb above my head as I was writing this: Eddie is a guy who makes a huge show of celebrating the most innocuous of holidays. Argyle is his partner in crime, and they make homemade themed shirts for everything from Arbor Day to National Oatmeal Day (Oct. 29) to Penguin Awareness Day (Jan 20) to Labor Day (they're both union men!) and find ways to rope all their eye-rolling friends into it. He would dress up as a Cupid on Valentines' Day just to be obnoxious and shoot foam arrows at all the jocks while flirting with all their girlfriends (if he was a single pringle, of course.. if he was with Chrissy he would.. not put on a public spectacle that involved her cause that kinda thing makes her uncomfortable and he would never so instead he forces Robin and Vickie to follow him around playing their instruments when he enters the cafeteria).

I also think Eddie LOVES Easter cause the whole rising from the dead thing sounds metal as fuck, and most of the people he hates are deeply Christian, so two birds one stone.

I'm very fond of a Stali Valentines' Day headcanon I once wrote about and I'd definitely like to elaborate on it someday, cause I think they'd both be unexpectedly absurd and enthusiastic about giving each other the best Valentines' Day ever, for completely different reasons (Steve loves giving Kali corny stereotypical teenage experiences she missed out on and Kali worries her emotional guardedness makes Steve think she doesn't love him as much as he loves her so she uses holidays as Grand Gesture moments when she allows herself more vulnerability than usual).

I would also really love to write most of my ships experiencing Pride as it evolves over the years and becomes bigger and bigger and more mainstream. I think it could make for an especially interesting character study for Chrissy, Eddie, and Robin in particular, in terms of their individual relationships with their own sexuality.

Thanks for the ask, this was fun to think about!

[weekendance]

THE TUESDAY TAPES MARTEDÌ 31 GENNAIO 2023 1) NIGHTTIME > The Way 2) NICO > The Sphinx 3) GINA BIRCH > I Play My Bass Loud 4) SONIDO VERDE DE MOYOBAMBA > Zarzamora 5) FRESA JUVENIL DE TARAPOTO > Cumbion Universal 6) ARBOR LABOR UNION > American Spoon 7) YAME > Romantic 8) ARTEFACT > M.A.E. 9) CHBB > Neger Brauchen Keine Elektronik 10) STEVE MANTOVANI > Doctor of Dreams 11) LORENZO FORTINO & BRODY > Pineto Connection 12) WILL & JAMES RAGAR > Forever 13) TELEVISION > Marquee Moon (PS: se non visualizzate il widget, lo streaming della puntata è QUI)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Norman leaped off the platform and began to fold it up. Some of the youngsters hastened to help him; whether or not they understood what he had been saying, they were at least ready to give him a hand. In a way you could say the same thing about Sy and Bernice, even though they swore fidelity to Norman’s faction. He had the uncomfortable feeling that with all their knowledgeable talk about the need for an American radical party, and a real break with the traditional fixation on Russia, they were smitten with him as a dashing figure, more glamorous than the Marxist logic-choppers with whom they had grown up.

Still fresh from Mexico, where he had been first pick-wielding archaeologist and then pistol-toting bodyguard to Trotsky, he possessed for them the added attractiveness of having gone to college out of town, in Ann Arbor, of having played football there, of having his own place on 113th Street. They could not possibly have understood that he still felt trapped in the middle-class and had been attracted to the revolutionary movement as a possible way out of experienced middle-class agitators like himself, whose principal working class like Sy and Bernie, would have invested him with an additional appeal: the man of quality voluntarily disassociating himself from his origins in order to better serve their common ideal.

Sy was pleased. Loaded down with literature, he shook hands somewhat awkwardly and then turned to help his girl friend with the dismantled speaker’s platform. Norm waved farewell to them both and hurried off to the 175th Street station of the Independent subway.

He had to change after one stop, at 168th Street, for the Seventh Avenue. Here, beneath the Presbyterian Hospital complex, he joined the walking wounded of the great city and its bastard civilization: invalids returning from treatment of banal or exotic complaints, visitors to the afflicted, sniffling relatives, and the motley mass of workers coming home from a sixth day of work downtown—or leaving home, carrying night lunch in brown paper bags, for nameless labor in deserted office buildings or sheeted and eerie department stores. Even if they had not yet been affected by the new war declared in defense of an obscure territory, they were nevertheless abstracted and unsmiling, enfolded in the private problems that bore on them more heavily than the far-off Nazis.

It was already too late, he was realistically convinced, to keep Americaout of war, no matter how many committees were formed, no matter how enthusiastically Russia’s admirers now embraced isolation. The trick would be to transform what had been learned from the betrayals and the miseries of the Thirties into a new movement that would do what no one else was doing: fight on the one hand against the war and the obviously inevitable military dictatorship and postwar depression, and at the same time against the fascist poison that had already infected the isolationists and the Stalinists.

The odds were that it was a hopeless effort. But did that make it wrong to try? You had to do what was indicated by history, as well as by logic and passion. Most painful was the quality and insufficiency of his own comrades, an ill-assorted handful of inexperienced middle-class agitators like himself, whose principal asset was their stubborn refusal to concede that radical politics would end with the ending of the Thirties.

They proposed to attract to their side Communists whose sensibilities were still live enough to be shocked by the Nazi-Soviet Pact; Socialists who also refused to make common cause with racists; trade-union militants who did not propose to quit fighting, simply because they might embarrass the Administration; and young idealists like Sy and his girl, overwhelmed by the clarity and inner logic of a Bolshevik Leninism, that, like Catholicism, seemed incontrovertible once you accepted its first premises—but too humane nevertheless to follow blindly the dictates of the old man in Mexico, much less the tyrant in Moscow.

It was not much—a little group of Akron rubber workers, a roomful of Chicago students, a couple of old militants on the Mesabi Iron Range, some second-generation Wobblies here and there—but it was what they had, and it included people who were not simply more good than bad, but in all honesty, he believed, far ahead of their contemporaries in intelligent self- sacrifice and dedication to principle.

…..

Ducking his head, Norm hastened over to the national office. His comrades rented a corner building in the warehouse-secondhand bookshop area south of the Square. The street floor was occupied by a plumbing-supply house, its unwashed windows half-concealing a clutter of pipe joints, elbows, and upended water closets, their dangling guts corroded and mute, as if dug up from some extinct civilization like the shards he had hunted with such assiduity only a year or two earlier.

Above this midden heap of almost-junk, the windows of the upper three floors were covered with exhortations to Build Socialism and Vote For Workers’ candidates. Already faded and curling, the posters, with their promises of a happier future, attracted scarcely any more attention from people too intent on their own miseries to look up and read portents and claims than did the flyblown plumbing reminders of a hydraulically functioning past.

The interior of the building was alive, though, from the moment you pulled open the scarred door and felt the rickety steps vibrating underfoot in sympathetic rhythm with the mimeograph’s clockety-pockety-clockety. At the first landing, a hefty young man nodded to him between shouts into the pay phone, doodling on a plaster wall already adorned with graffiti. Norm continued to climb, past the second floor where boys and girls in their teens sang and argued among themselves while they filled bundle orders and cranked the mimeograph. Past the third floor too, where he himself had a desk for his journalistic works. On to the top floor, where the national leadership, in somewhat more remote austerity, surrounded by maps of the United States and the warring world and by ancient posters of the Russian Revolution, met to plan and to scheme for their few thousand followers.

Here you had to watch your step—not only because the floor was actually giving way here and there, threatening to drop the leaders down onto the heads of the writers like Norm, who strove to publicize them and their ideas, but also because one man watched another: rumors of a split, the plague of every radical group, rent the air, and those who were already working to build a new party from elements of this one were narrowly watched by the loyalists.

Norm stopped first in the cubbyhole office of Comrade Hoover. The bald, saturnine Negro, veteran of three earlier socialist groups and early organizer for the steelworkers and then the auto workers, had declared himself for those who planned to build a new party; but because he never stooped to personal attacks and still retained certain connections within the labor movement he had a wide respect on all sides. Hands locked behind his head, Hoover regarded Norm quizzically.

“Well,” he said, “what’s on your mind?" 

“Don’t you want to know how the street-corner meeting went uptown?”

“Not particularly. I’ve been told that you do a good imitation of Dworkin.”

Norm flushed. At the same time he had to laugh: Who didn’t do a good imitation of Dworkin? Their brilliant leader’s brain, tongue, and arm moved like cleavers, chop, chop, slicing through the stupidities that he destroyed with relish, his ruthless wit terrorizing the opposition within the movement and humiliating the hecklers without.  Only a few, like Hoover, could sit back and assess Dworkin coolly—and even Hoover had chosen to associate himself with Marty Dworkin’s faction, seeing in it the hope for a new radicalism freed from the crippling attachment to rigid dogma.

“Is Marty here?”

“He’s with a man from The New Yorker. The way the kids are hopping downstairs, you’d think the barricades were going up on 14th Street.”

“Well, you can’t blame them. That’ll be a good break for us, an article in The New Yorker.”

“A good break my foot.” Hoover tilted back in his scarred swivel chair. His bald brown skull caught the light from the dusty window; the back of his head rose alarmingly, as if it had been squeezed in a vise. Even atilt and at ease, he was a man of great force and dignity; unlike Marty Dworkin, the dapper debater, with his hairline moustache and wicked grin, it was difficult even to think of him, much less to address him, by his first name. True enough, Marty was the public figure, the theoretician and writer, even the international figure; but when you thought of him or spoke of him, respect was almost always mixed with mockery.

With Hoover it was different. Neither witty or fiery, he was upon occasion sardonic, as in his deliberate choice of nom de plume. And far from being a cafeteria intellectual or street-corner hotshot, he was dismayingly tough, he knew the labor movement. For a small organization, he was as precious as money in the bank.

He said coldly, “Now Dworkin is sitting there with him, charting. And all those brats downstairs are hopping up and down because some journalist is going to write us up for a comic magazine.”

“A good press won’t do us any harm with the middle-class liberals.”

“The only thing that will do us any good with liberals or anybody else is results.” Hoover scowled and passed his palm over his skull, as if it had hair worth smoothing down. “What I can’t seem to get through you guys’ heads is that all this talk-talk, all these sessions with journalists, won’t amount to a hill of beans. Not unless you speak with authority as revolutionary workers’ leaders.”

Hoover’s surface anti-intellectualism was alarmingly like that of certain self-styled Bolsheviks—except that in his case it was not a fake hardness or hatred of mental accomplishment. Indeed he was a man filled with quiet but intense admiration for the genuine accomplishments of novelists as well as mathematicians. What he detested was pretense and bombast. What he dreamed of—if you could think of such a man as a dreamer—was a community of people who thought, decided, then acted, without further ado.

With suspicious kindliness he concluded, “Now I know you mean business, unlike some of these dentists’ and milliners’ sons and daughters we’re stuck with, playacting at being revolutionaries. They wouldn’t know a barricade from a barroom. And they’re the ones Dworkin caters to, with fancy names like the locked-out generation.”

“That’s what I’m here to talk about, with you and Marty. I’ll make it short: I want to get into the labor movement.”

“Have you got guilt feelings too?”

“Maybe. That’s not important. Now that the war has started, I have a greater sense of urgency. I have to be where the action is, working in a shop where I can contribute something more substantial than—”

“More substantial? Do me a favor, will you?” 

Norm nodded, and leaned forward, hopeful of a special assignment.

“Spend a little time learning, before you run off with a red flag in your fist and your feet going every which way, like Charlie Chaplin in that movie.” Hoover scowled. “If there’s one quality this outfit is short on, it’s humility.”

Hot-faced, Norm protested. “I don’t think you have any reason to accuse me —

“I’m not accusing. But there’s people like that all around you. Your first responsibility is to show them what discipline means. You don’t have to tell me that we’ve got to get some of these young blow-hards into the shops, and let them use their big lungs in union meetings. But we’ve got to do it in an orderly fashion, and we’re not going to strip the national office of people with skills like yours. Who’s going to put out the paper, the youth? They don’t even know how to give it away, much less sell it, much less edit it. When the time is ripe, you’ll hear from us.”

“In the meantime …”

“In the meantime I thought you were serious about becoming a labor journalist. Well get on with it, man. And if you’ve got heartburn, talk with Lewis, not me.”

He had been hoping too to discuss an article with Hoover before sitting down to write it up for the paper, but now he felt himself definitively dismissed, and he left the office with no further talk."

- Harvey Swados, Standing Fast: A Novel (1971, 2013 Open Road edition)

[thenewsart]

Ann Arbor School Board OK’s a Resolution Supporting a Cease-Fire in Gaza

In the United States, some labor unions, city governments and town councils have weighed in on the Israel-Hamas war, issuing statements in support of a cease-fire — often over vociferous objections from some of their own members and constituents. On Wednesday night, the school board in Ann Arbor, Mich., became one of the first public school districts in the country to vote in favor of such a…

[12xurecs]

LEWSBERG will be touring North America for the first time this Autumn, with a 25 show run kicking off September 20 at Brooklyn’s Union Pool. The band’s first-ever trip to these shores includes a September 30 Memphis appearance at the 20th edition of Goner Fest. Full dates below. Said tour is preceded by Tuesday’s release of early mixes of 2 new Lewsberg songs, “Without A Doubt” and “Communion”, both of which will included on the band’s forthcoming 4th album, ‘Out & About’, out this September. In addition, Lewsberg’s self-titled debut album from 2018 is being reissued in the U.S. by 12XU this July 9/20 - Brooklyn NY, Union Pool w/ Ava Mendoza, Donna Allen 9/21 - Kingston NY, Tubby’s w/ Rider/Horse 9/22 - Philadelphia, Jerry’s on Front w/ Cartoon 9/23 - Wash., DC, Quarry House 9/24 - Chapel Hill, The Cave w/ Three Body Problem 9/26 - Atlanta, The Earl w/ Dippers, Arbor Labor Union 9/27 - Nashville, Drkmttr w/ Dippers 9/28 - Louisville, The Portal w/ Charm School, Palomina 9/30 - Memphis, Gonerfest 20 10/1 - Jackson MS, End of All Music anniversary party 10/3 - New Orleans, TBA 10/4 - Houston, Echoes 10/5 - Austin, Hotel Vegas w/ Water Damage 10/7 - Lawrence KS, The White Schoolhouse 10/9 - Chicago, Sleeping Village w/ CB Radio Gorgeous 10/11 - Indianapolis, State Street Pub w/ Craig Bell & the Dead Man’s Handle, Living Dream 10/12 - Columbus, Cafe Bourbon St. w/ Unholy Two 10/13 - Detroit, Outer Limits Lounge 10/14 - Cleveland, Beachland w/ Obnox, Wrong Places 10/16 - Rochester NY, Lux Lounge w/ Nod 10/17 - Toronto, Tranzac 10/19 - Montreal, Casa del Popolo w/ Chris Forsyth, Helene Barbier 10/20 - Cambridge MA, Middle East Cafe w/ Chris Brokaw, Minibeast 10/21 - TBA 10/22 - Asbury Park NJ, Bond Street Basement band photo : Tommy Ventevogel

[omegaradiowusb]

MARCH 11, 2023 (#346)

Chives, The: "Your Mom's A Bitch" Moron: "Mosquito Trap" Horsegirl: "It's Obvious" Throwaway: "Dinosaur" Gut Health: "Barbarella" Cheekface: "Headache" TVOD: "Goldfish" Easy Bruiser: "I Hate Thursdays" Gloop: "I Never Really Knew" Rotary Club: "American Tower" (***NEW) Dazy + Militarie Gunn + Mannequin Pussy: "Pressure Cooker" (RMX) (***NEW) Grocer: "Smooth Operator" (***NEW) Deady: "Eat Sleep" (***NEW) Cel Ray: "Clorox Wipes" (***NEW) Body Type: "Miss The World" (***NEW) Wombo: "Snakey" Dumb: "Sleep Like A Baby" Horse Lords: "May Brigade" Rip Room: "Dead When It Started" Blonde Revolver: "Lipstick & Leather" Arbor Labor Union: "Hovering Stone" (***NEW) Corker: "Lice" (***NEW) Maraudeur: "C'est Cache" Alpha Hopper: "Glows, Explodes" Mamalarky: "Mythical Bonds" Scare Quotes: "Tomato" Diacatorci: "Parasito" Jade Hairpins: "Mary Magazine" Viagra Boys: "Ain't No Thief" Fake Fruit: "Over Ice" Guerilla Toss: "Heathen Money" Namesake: "Operational" TV Priest: "One Easy Thing"

A new broadcasting season of Omega Radio is upon us. Warmer weather is on its way and everything is starting to open up. Here’s two hours of fresh d.i.y. and city sounds ready to be purchased off the stand. 

Thanks for everyone tuning in on their FM dials and streaming on our site (wusb.fm). See you in two weeks.

March 25, 2023 (10PM New York City): deluxe Omega    

April 8, 2023 (10PM New York City): deluxe Omega    

April 22, 2023 (10PM New York City): deluxe Omega    

May 6, 2023 (10PM New York City): deluxe Omega    

May 20, 2023 (10PM New York City): final deluxe Spring Omega  

[delicasseten]

ντελικασσέτεν 06.03.23 | Mourning Air RVG - Nothing Really Changes Fran - Palm Trees Arbor Labor Union - Heartwork DULL - Treats Bad Pelicans - Dance Music Hello Mary - Burn It Out Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs - Terror's Pillow Gnoomes - The Neighbor Noble Rot - Casting No Light Miss Tiny - The Sound Fontaines D.C. - 'Cello Song Shame - Burning By Design Thurston Moore - Isadora Mudhoney - Move Under Shannon Lay - Angeles Wednesday - Bath County Washer - King Insignificant Feeble Little Horse - Tin Man Shana Cleveland - Walking Through Morning Dew

[thetuesdaytapes]

THE TUESDAY TAPES MARTEDÌ 31 GENNAIO 2023 1) NIGHTTIME > The Way 2) NICO > The Sphinx 3) GINA BIRCH > I Play My Bass Loud 4) SONIDO VERDE DE MOYOBAMBA > Zarzamora 5) FRESA JUVENIL DE TARAPOTO > Cumbion Universal 6) ARBOR LABOR UNION > American Spoon 7) YAME > Romantic 8) ARTEFACT > M.A.E. 9) CHBB > Neger Brauchen Keine Elektronik 10) STEVE MANTOVANI > Doctor of Dreams 11) LORENZO FORTINO & BRODY > Pineto Connection 12) WILL & JAMES RAGAR > Forever 13) TELEVISION > Marquee Moon Ascolta su MIXCLOUD Ascolta su SPREAKER Guarda su YOUTUBE

[frogndtoad]

albums 1/19/2023

arbor labor union - yonder* the throes - the flowers growing in your mother's eyes* kd lang - shadowland