An Essay on Music and Memory in Times of Transition
By Aaron Goggans | November 27, 2013
For years Chicago was my city, my center and my muse. Chicago was my on again, off again college sweetheart. Sure, we may have taken breaks over Christmas and Thanksgiving and I might have flirted with New York and Denver but I always knew I’d come home to her. We had gone through too many fights, birthdays, finals, and first dates for me to ever stay anywhere else too long. When I was away, she would send me mix tapes infused with that instantly recognizable Chicago sound. Sometimes, when I was lonely in my childhood home in Colorado I’d play Common or Kanye just so I could hear her voice; that wholesome, familiar sound that always reminded me of going to church.
Chance and Tree Make Mixtapes for a Mild Season
By Eric Roberts | September 2, 2013
In June, I moved from my room in Kenwood, close to the lake, to west Hyde Park, on Drexel Avenue. I share an apartment with my younger brother Alex, 25, who just moved to Chicago from San Antonio. With the Red Line currently under construction, we get on the Green Line at the 51st Street stop to go downtown. Though never as convenient as the Red Line or the #6 bus, it’s the route I’ve always taken with out-of-town visitors for a topographical look at the South Side. Now it’s my regular route to work, and Alex, as he becomes acquainted with the city, gets a bird’s eye view each time he ventures north. Alex loves hip-hop, like I love hip-hop. We’re the guys on the train, headphones on, totally in tune with our favorite rappers; you might think we’re talking to you, but really we’re just singing along. The Green Line is spacious and peaceful, a perfect moving stage for the solipsistic listener-performer.