׉?4ׁB!בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://9BOLcbI1tbHIhFUFy_qMRMadebkUXTsqyz2JSeankD8q`׉ 7cassandra://eJ3ZM0I4dDNTVgPjG3aiq6ViodPIfBZ9C9F9e_R-bgEb`r׉ 7cassandra://beqDX2dlAK4ro8ZzDcRhGJZi2LoIg17xRukL58H5yJc"N`jUjeoe׈EjUjeod׉E׉ 7cassandra://beqDX2dlAK4ro8ZzDcRhGJZi2LoIg17xRukL58H5yJc"N`jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://ZIx1U-cVFHULbH2p8k8353nONelNr6UflwkCPe4sez0`et׉ 7cassandra://3LbRPU7NBWK6pnQ8EE-LeuEsjogdzJBrHnXpTXnw11Yh`׉ 7cassandra://0Y5UCFnUtM9RQmaxYHUSCgIEMCRlr2TCX_rsXRS-RokB`jUjeoeנjUjeoe# 9ׁH http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACTׁ ׁ ЈנjUjeoe"r 9ׁH$http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONSׁ ׁ ЈנjUjeoe!Ȩ 9ׁHhttp://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOPׁ ׁ ЈנjUjeoeVp 9ׁHhttp://BIRDY.MAׁ ׁ Ј׉E׉ 7cassandra://0Y5UCFnUtM9RQmaxYHUSCgIEMCRlr2TCX_rsXRS-RokB`jUjeod׉EISSUE 150 | JULY / AUGUST 2026 MOTOKO: KRYSTI JOMÉI CITIZEN ZERO: JONNY DESTEFANO DARK CITY: DANIEL 'DL' LANDES CODE RUNNER: DIDI BETHURUM DIGITAL RAIN: MARK MOTHERSBAUGH OPTIC SPIKE: LINDSAY BRUCE DATA SILO: SCOT DARR FRONT COVER: JOE VAUX, KELP RUN - @JOEVAUX BACK COVER: RYANE ROSE, THE LAST THING SEEN - @THEWOODLANDWOLF MEMORIES OF GREEN: JOE VAUX, JASON WHITE, DAVE DANZARA, BRIAN POLK, HANA ZITTEL, MOON PATROL, CAITLYN GRABENSTEIN, JOEL TAGERT, NICK FLOOK, ZAC DUNN, LUKE DIBONA, TOM MURPHY, ALAN ROY, BRIAN J HOFFMAN, RAY YOUNG CHU, RYANE ROSE BASAL INSTINCTS: STACY PERALTA, PAUL JACKSON, MIKE SHINE, VON RYTIS, ARTHUR BALITSKIY, KAYLIE RIVAS, MICHAEL ROQUE UNPREDICTABLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES: MARIANO OREAMUNO, KAYVAN S. T. KHALATBARI, JULIANNA BECKERT, DS THORNBURG, PHIL GARZA, ZAC DUNN, ALAN ROY, CHELSEA PINTO, MATT HAVER, IZZY DOZIER, DJUNA MARTINEZ, LAURA LONG SUPPORT OUR FRIENDS & BENEFACTORS: DENVER ART MUSEUM, MSTERIOUS MIRACLES, COLORADO FESTIVAL OF HORROR, HOUSE OF ROULX, OFF THE BOTTLE REFILL SHOP, MUTINY COMICS AND COFFEE, PHOTO BANG!, BRAND BABES, BENNY BLANCO’S, RADIO RETHINK, AIRBUBBLE FOLLOW US – IG: @BIRDY.MAGAZINE | FB: @BIRDYMAGAZINE KEEP PRINT UNDEAD – MAILED SUBSCRIPTIONS + ISSUES + MERCH: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOP BE IN BIRDY – ART + WORDS + COMEDY + ET CETERA: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONS ADVERTISE IN BIRDY + SUPPORT INDEPENDENT ART: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACT-US BIRDY IS A GLITCH IN THE SCRIPT, HIDDEN PILOT MONTHLY ©2026 BIRDY MAGAZINE, A GHOST IN THE SHELL 01100010 01101001 01110010 01100100 01111001 00101110 jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://o1ktfQSJm9iedpySWEfHpcOIMZItdqDAhNRkTwmD9c4U`et׉ 7cassandra://59nPcWpP8MNaveDF3acGnPVHDXu66kEAZZzXIyy2wl4 `׉ 7cassandra://3LK32fRd_aVRHoijwqtv_CBBSHra_bIHpaQQ1Bs0kkUZ`jUjeoe׉E׉ 7cassandra://3LK32fRd_aVRHoijwqtv_CBBSHra_bIHpaQQ1Bs0kkUZ`jUjeod׉E0DAVE DANZARA, JOE STRUMMER - @LOSTINTIMEDESIGNS jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://7Q-o3CL3Wlv9fiOr31IPG78zBytiAHTdCFNv7bPDABc1`et׉ 7cassandra://cLdpY4ycZvWFK-GOSrWPTIUb6zloMheuojGPfH9fOTA`׉ 7cassandra://YXkFY-lzyAS_sTfiUuKFLZwn8vWwEHmQpoz91UyWdVMK`jUjeoe$׉EBROKE AND BROKEN : THE BIRTHDAY EDITION BY BRIAN POLK MY GRANDMA USED TO SEND ME $20 FOR MY BIRTHDAY, BUT NOW THAT SHE’S GONE, I HAVE TO USE MY OWN MONEY TO BUY DRUGS Every year until her passing, my grandma sent me a nominal financial offering for my birthday, which I would duly use to purchase illicit, mindaltering substances. It was even better when both of my grandmas were alive, because then I could afford twice as many narcotics. But now I don’t get any drug stipends, due to the fact that I have no remaining grandparents, my own parents are retired and on a tight budget, and I lost my rich in-laws during the separation. So I actually have to save up for my birthday black market provisions, like some kind of stray who has been kicked out of the pack. Either that, or I suppose I could hock the neighbors’ lawn furniture like I did for last year’s birthday drugs. No. 150 NOT TOO LONG AGO, I GOT THE IDEA TO COMPLETELY REINVENT MY WARDROBE. THEN I REALIZED I DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO REINVENT ANYTHING ABOUT MYSELF, AND THAT’S WHEN I REMEMBERED THE REASON I’VE ALWAYS DRESSED THIS WAY There’s a stanza in the Jeff Rosenstock song, “You, In Weird Cities,” where the singer expounds upon the fact that he doesn’t have to wake up to feed a kid. Then he says, “… it’s got to the point where I’m not sure if that’s something I wanted.” That line really awakened an urge to reevaluate decades of life choices that brought me to that moment. I thought to myself, Do I really want to keep living this way? Should I make some lifestyle changes? For example, do I really want to keep MARK MOTHERSBAUGH, FROM THE POSTCARD DIARIES: ELEPHANT BOY - ATLANTA, GEORGIA - SEPT. 22, 2025 ׉ 7cassandra://YXkFY-lzyAS_sTfiUuKFLZwn8vWwEHmQpoz91UyWdVMK`jUjeod׉E dressing like I’m 15 years old? So I figured, maybe I would alter some things in my life, starting with my wardrobe (since any other change seemed like much more work). So I looked into how much it would cost to get some snazzy-looking ensembles — and holy shit! The steep price tags made me realize a change would be next to impossible. Turns out, my personal tastes had nothing to do with my predilection for fading punk shirts and ripped pants — it was my low standard of living that dictated my fashion this whole time! So much for self-exploration! This 20-minute reevaluation session concluded when another punk song lodged itself into my head. This time it was Dillinger Four’s, “A Floater Left with Pleasure in the Executive Washroom,” with the lyrics, “This isn’t what we want. This isn’t what we need. This is what we can afford!” And that’s why you should never criticize someone’s clothing choices unless you’re willing and able to subsidize a new wardrobe for them. OOPS! I JUST TOLD AN EDGY JOKE TO THE WORKPLACE DUD Everyone at my place of work knows they can’t have any fun with Henry, the workplace downer. Generally when everyone’s having a good time, and we see him coming, we’ll stop laughing and pretend to start working. Otherwise he’ll tell the boss that we’re humans who have souls and like to have fun sometimes. But here’s the thing: I didn’t know he was within earshot last Tuesday when I was swapping witticisms with other coworkers. And apparently Henry doesn’t like jokes about the former Pope’s corpse, the starting offensive line of the 1985 Chicago Bears, and a drunken night in the woods. So yeah, I have an appointment with HR in the morning. THIS YEAR, I AM COVERING ALL EXPENSES FOR MY DESTINATION BIRTHDAY PARTY AT THE BAR NEAR MY HOUSE! I wanted to sound cool and say, “I’m having a destination birthday party this year.” So yeah, I’m headed to the bar on University Boulevard that’s just south of Evans. Sure, I know there’s no cover anyway, but there is free happy hour spaghetti if you get there before 6 p.m. (and you buy a drink, which is not included in the “all expenses paid” part, because I have no money for that kind of thing). But I will be passing a flask around in the parking lot before we go inside, so that’s something. Anyway, you should come! 5 AND NOW THAT MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP, I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE ANOTHER BRIEF FORAY INTO MY PART-TIME CAREER AS A USED OUTDOOR FURNITURE SALESMAN This year, it appears as though my neighbors are sporting a fourpiece, dark brown wicker furniture set complete with floral-designed cushions. It has a love seat, two individual chairs and a coffee table. I’ve only seen them hanging out on this patio set a couple of times, so it is very lightly used. I’m asking for $100 so I can get some better quality drugs than I did last year (when I let the previous set go for $75; also, I need a good $20 to buy a bottle to pass around to folks in the parking lot before we go inside the bar by my house). If you are interested, meet me in the alley behind Cook Street and Wesley Avenue at precisely 3:16 a.m. this upcoming Sunday morning. I’ll be the one wearing all black and standing next to a very nice set of wicker furniture. I’ll also be accepting early birthday beers if you happen to have any in the fridge that you’re not going to drink. STACY PERALTA, NYC GARBAGE BIN - @PERALTASTACY jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://KCX73Oj_y9fKQOOUMWFZWqoVJBRZwMEVIpCUXnjOuRwe`et׉ 7cassandra://QfU-ZkwtoZN-Cqsmf5toFaWSZTWyyAlUSBQapvaTvwg߂`׉ 7cassandra://wCUJLH96lwdcQoBGdNBTXlYSIMjEEDuPnewxm6_to2U@L`jUjeoe'׉E׉ 7cassandra://wCUJLH96lwdcQoBGdNBTXlYSIMjEEDuPnewxm6_to2U@L`jUjeod׉ESome sightings stay with you. Joe Vaux is one of them. From directing the animated sitcom Family Guy to creating imaginative, creature-filled paintings from his California home studio, Joe’s work lives somewhere between the familiar and the fantastical. Equal parts keen observer and art-scientist, Joe has carved out a creative life where humor, heart and a reverence for the wild intertwine, inviting us to step inside and take a closer look. Spend a little time with him and it becomes clear that the line between imagination and reality was never meant to be all that solid. Monsters are misunderstood. Sharks are the heroes. UFOs drift through the night like curious insects. Even the darkest corners of his paintings seem to hold a strange kind of optimism, as if every beast is simply asking to be seen a little differently. This month his imagination continues to unfold with Signals From Elsewhere, a group show at Mortal Machine Gallery in New Orleans, followed by his upcoming solo exhibition, Bug Off, opening this September at Brassworks Gallery in Portland. We wandered through childhood, creativity, animation, his connection to nature, and the quiet discipline it takes to keep showing up for your imagination and the things that matter most. By the end of our conversation, it became clear that Joe isn't just creating new worlds. He’s reminding us to take a look at this one with a little more curiosity, compassion and of course, fun. Joe Vaux: What's up, you two? Just playing with some filters. You want to look glamorous too? Birdy: That's actually a really pretty look for you, Joe. Beautiful. Joe Vaux: I wish. These things always crack me up. We used them when we played Dungeons & Dragons all through COVID. Birdy: Were you the DM? Joe Vaux: No, no. I don't have those kind of skills. I just love playing. I've dabbled with it since I was a kid. Birdy: Definitely a lot of fond memories. Joe Vaux: It was just late nights and junk food and fights. Birdy: My dad was the DM. One game he killed me and my brothers and our friends all in the same attack. We'd been working on these characters for a couple of years. Joe Vaux: Damn. Birdy: But then we found a magic pool a little later, and we were okay. Good times. So speaking of childhood, you grew up on Long Island right? Joe Vaux: Broadly speaking, more specifically Lloyd Neck. It was actually a really awesome place to grow up. I couldn't have asked for a better childhood, barring some tick-related moments. Kind of out in the country, but close enough to the city that you got little bursts of it. My parents were both artists and professors. We were kind of fish out of water. Everybody else had lots of money and we were just floating by. But they made it work. Birdy: We had no idea your parents were artists. Did you always make art then? Joe Vaux: I was always creative and kind of a dreamer. Star Wars or any movie would just set me off into play mode, whether it was with action figures or pretending I was a character running around the yard. I was always busy that way, but I never considered myself an artist. I thought I was going to do something in the sciences. It honestly wasn't until my junior year of high school when all the counselors started saying, "You need to think about your future. What are your interests?" I was lying in bed looking around my room — I was one of those kids who had posters, art and comics everywhere. This bell just went off: Dude, you want to make movies. You want to make stuff. You want to be an artist. From that point on, I told my parents I wanted to go into the arts and they really leaned in. Them both being professors helped too. I basically took my mom's beginning college drawing class and my dad gave me assignments. Initially I thought special effects was going to be the path. They signed me up for figure drawing classes, painting classes, sculpting classes, anything I was interested in. They helped me groom my portfolio. It had a little bit of me, but also the kind of work a university would want to see — stuff I wasn't interested in, like drawing pots and pans, reflections, pastel studies. They were pivotal, always supportive of whatever I wanted to do. But we butted heads for a while because I was like, "I want to draw comics. I don't want to draw pots and reflections.” They'd say, "Just do it. It'll look good in your portfolio." Birdy: Like eating broccoli. Joe Vaux: Definitely. I was the typical teenager, throwing little tantrums. I'd stomp off and pout, I'm drawing all these stupid things. None of this is going to matter. It did matter. I got a nice little scholarship. Birdy: That's really cool you had such a positive entry into art. A lot of people don't have that safe space for creativity growing up. jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://iy8cu0Xyf-QluU0Us3MrWGx-_XqFL3BFprufBOwzJnI`et׉ 7cassandra://HAB-vxZNWMgDXXE92ucrYtQE3QLrh8TctcXLQqrN3_A`׉ 7cassandra://Y2fWOGzIiYx5FyaaWNwndrXvKjk2lTS00VAsjg7PvcEG]`jUjeoe)׉Eone. It was the same emotional cycle — defeat, angry train ride home, wondering if I was ever going to make this work. I only did two pieces for him, but that first job felt huge. I made about 300 bucks. I think I spent more on the train. Then I got some color work for a really great magazine that focused Joe Vaux: I was super lucky. A lot of my youth was being dragged to my parents' art shows or their friends' art shows. It was just part of my life. I got to see a lot of things. It didn't mean much to me then, but the exposure was awesome. I wouldn't be who I am without it. Birdy: When did you start exploring your imagination with your art? Joe Vaux: D&D was kind of a launch point in some ways. Drawing your character or a monster you might encounter. My drawing style took a lot longer to develop. I was better with color early on, but it took me a while to get comfortable and create something I was interested in. Sculpting and building came more naturally. Along with D&D, I'd build little dioramas, castles, pathways. They were more for taking pictures, putting those miniatures into scenes. But the illustrator Joe didn't really emerge until late college. Maybe I'm just a slow learner, or maybe I wasn't being instructed in a way that worked for me. Birdy: Or maybe you just had a bigger scope. Joe Vaux: Maybe. I had a lot of grand ideas, and when I tried to execute them as drawings, they didn't come out the way I imagined. That's probably the frustration a lot of people feel. And when you're surrounding yourself with work by professionals it's humbling. I just kept at it. I knew time would help. I know people who dropped out of high school and went straight into the industry, but I needed those four years, and then some. I needed that extra time to blossom. Birdy: At what point did you find your voice — the Joe Vaux style? Joe Vaux: My style really didn't materialize until after college. There were no more assignments except the ones I gave myself and I realized I had to keep making things. Along with a few illustration jobs and trying to grease the wheels at DC Comics, I'd do little paintings of characters and send them in. That's when things started happening. It was more mixed media then. There was this balance between a punk attitude — not worrying too much about perfection, keeping it free and energetic — while refining and tightening certain areas. That was probably when I started figuring out how I wanted my images to look instead of simply completing assignments. Birdy: What was it like getting into the industry as a professional artist? Joe Vaux: I pounded the pavement in New York City, dropping off portfolios all over. Steven Heller at The New York Times gave me a chance. He needed a black-and-white spot illustration for the back of the book review section. The deadlines were insanely early. He gave me the job on a Monday and said, "Give me some options tomorrow." There was no email. I had to physically bring them in by 7 a.m. I'd get home from the city around 1 p.m. then think through ideas and start drawing. I did three drawings and he didn't like any of them. He said, "I'll give you one more day. Try again.” So I did three more, and thankfully he liked No. 150 on environmental travel. Soon after that, I met Ralph Bakshi. He was really the bridge into animation and my first consistent job. Meanwhile, I was still trying to get into DC Comics. There was a really nice guy there who eventually he gave me a shot, but I honestly didn't know what to do with it. I didn't have friends in the industry who could explain the process. The assignment was to color a four-page Lobo comic. He handed me printouts of the original art. I remember thinking, Do I just paint directly on these? I was too shy to ask. I didn't have a computer or scanner, so digital wasn't an option. I ended up watercoloring them. It looked like complete shit. But Ralph Bakshi was different. He was more of an artist's artist. He liked messy work, paint, rough edges, my sense of color, things that were a little edgier. That became a consistent gig. He was doing shorts for what eventually became Cartoon Network, though it was still Hanna-Barbera. They had this program where animators could pitch original shows and produce three- or five-minute shorts. That's where things like Dexter's Laboratory and The Powerpuff Girls came from. Ralph had two insane projects. They were kind of bluesy, kind of jazzy about this weird rubbery character with a cockroach friend who played saxophone called Malcom and Melvin. He never gave me scripts or outlines. There was almost no direction. But one thing I've always been good at is delivering work on time. Whether it was great or not, I don't know, but I got the job done. That relationship evolved over about a year. Then he pitched a show to HBO called Spicy City. It used his rubbery character designs in these Blade Runner-style stories. He told me, "They want to do it. They're opening a studio in LA. I'm not going, but I'll put in a good word for you.” That’s what brought me out here. When I got to HBO, they initially put me on Spawn. I thought, Okay, I'll try to keep up. The people there were fantastic, willing to help me learn. It was almost like graduate school. Birdy: Being thrown into the deep end by great mentors is just the best. Is this what led you to Family Guy? Joe Vaux: So I worked at HBO with a bunch of different people. They hired this one guy, Alfred Gimeno. He was one of those young prodigytypes. He could draw right out of the womb. He worked on a lot of classic old-school animation like Scooby-Doo. HBO started looking at graphic novels and various edgy comics because they wanted to make adult animation. They hired Alfred to figure out how to turn those comics and pitch materials into possible shows. He's a super bubbly guy and helped me through a couple of projects there. Once HBO kind of crumbled as an animation entity, he ended up working on Dilbert. The show was on UPN at the time, competing with The Simpsons. It was primetime adult animation. My boss on that show became the main producer on Family Guy. I worked with her for two and a half years and when Family Guy came back, they gave me an opportunity. I started as a revisionist, correcting directors' notes, things like that. Twenty-two years later, I'm directing. It's been a great place to work. PUNISHER ׉ 7cassandra://Y2fWOGzIiYx5FyaaWNwndrXvKjk2lTS00VAsjg7PvcEG]`jUjeod׉ETHE GRASS IS GREENER? jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://9Ag7UUNjU0LpTI6c0Qz7QUaTKstnqcQq3Jrwj2008X0~`et׉ 7cassandra://SzSbZgZdQMto45wRNDwU4bU0-5Gr2vUwsXbs-KhXTPc;`׉ 7cassandra://A-GR3FsOFU5E9C7eU0GFf8a6-WTwDooZwZ24J7P45GIX`jUjeoe+׉EcSUCK IT INFLUENCER Birdy: It’s incredible how long you’ve been a part of the show. We imagine your sense of humor has helped. Joe Vaux: It doesn't hurt. Not MacGyver it, but joke my way out of a tough situation. We work really hard on the show we make now, and it's evolved a lot over those first three seasons, which I wasn't a part of. Now content can be edgier, grosser, weirder, darker. In the landscape of animation, we're probably a little tamer now, but I still think we do a lot of fun things, and I still get a lot of laughs out of it. Birdy: Does your own artistic voice come through with directing? Joe Vaux: A little bit. We have lots of checks and balances. There are people above me visually who really help keep the show as interesting and creative as possible and make the most out of each scene. Ultimately, we're a very writer-driven show, and our supervisors are really good at steering us if we're heading off track. But I definitely inject as much of myself as I can into translating the script into thumbnails, working closely with the artists, designing things. I'm very hands-on and I'm probably a little opinionated. A lot of it comes from not liking stress. The more thought I can put into what something looks like or how a scene might unfold early on, the smoother everything goes later. Birdy: It's funny you don't like stress because you do so much in addition to Family Guy — creating several paintings for multiple galleries, your own personal work, other side projects, your family. Yet, you’re this really levelheaded, chill person. How do you maintain balance? Joe Vaux: Where I'm sitting now is my Family Guy workspace. Any digital work happens here. My paintings are in another room. It's a small studio that my wife and I share. After the workday I try to take a little break. Walk my dog Ripley. Eat dinner. Watch whatever's on. Then I try to paint for at least an hour. On weekends, my ideal routine is getting up before my daughter, putting on some music, and painting for a couple of hours before she wakes up. As far as juggling everything and avoiding stress, I've always tried to stay way ahead of the game. My show at Mortal Machine Gallery was finished three or four months ago. It was only five pieces, so as soon as they asked, I started working while I was finishing paintings for my September show at Brassworks Gallery, alternating between the two. I've already been done with that work for a month. I've always tried not to overextend myself. Sometimes people ask me to do things and I'll say no because I think it'll be too much, even if I probably could squeeze it in. I'm always managing what's going on in my head. I also want to feel physically good. We go bouldering, which I love. Lately I've also been volunteering a lot — about six hours a week at a nature center. I get dirty, pull weeds, prune plants. Especially in the evenings, it's really peaceful. You hear coyotes. It's just me and the plants. The people appreciate it and it gives me a reason to take a shower because I'm disgusting afterward. Making time for things like that is really important. I also just agreed to be in a show at Arch Enemy Arts in Philadelphia in 2028. They need 10 to 12 paintings, and I bet I'll have the whole show finished by the middle of 2027. Then I'll just sit on the pile until it's time. That's just how I operate. Birdy: It’s so nice talking to other creatives, especially those who work from home, because discipline, time management — it’s no easy task. Joe Vaux: Discipline was hammered into me pretty early. If you want things to happen, you have to work hard. That became part of who I am. It also helps that I genuinely enjoy what I do. Sometimes getting into the studio takes a little effort, but once the music's on and the paint's poured, the mechanics take over. Birdy: Finding that balance in your own life is one thing. But then add the depravity of everything that's happening right now in the world, and trying to stay grounded is a whole other challenge. As an artist, how do you process this moment in time? Joe Vaux: Even going back to the stuff I was creating in college when I was really stressed out about animal rights, my art has always been semi-ventilatory. It's fantasy — exploring fantasy worlds and things I'm dreaming about. But I was definitely getting emotions out. I created a couple of anti-lab, anti-poaching artworks that were maybe precursors ׉ 7cassandra://A-GR3FsOFU5E9C7eU0GFf8a6-WTwDooZwZ24J7P45GIX`jUjeod׉EqSIGNALS 3 IDENTITY THEFT to some of the work I do now. I had a character assignment once, and I did this really disgusting old George Bush character. And during the first term of this orange bastard, I did a lot of daily drawings of him. Just getting it out. I made a lot of enemies and got some scary Instagram responses. Right now, I'm a little more about making the world around me nice — and maybe this is why I'm volunteering so aggressively. Be a good person. Be a mirror or a projection of what I would like the world to be. So with my art right now, it's a little more of an escape as opposed to painting images that are clearly poking at things. I think my artwork still has an environmental edge to some of it, you know, trying to protect things. Birdy: Be the change. We always try to be an oasis with Birdy — fun but real. We feel that way about you and your work. You're such a sunny and kind person, but then there's this darker element and humor in your art. Joe Vaux: For sure. It's kind of therapy for me too. Anytime there's a victim in my painting, I'm projecting that onto society. It's aimed at certain people. Maybe not visually, but the intent is there. It's cathartic. I'm trying to chase out some of the demons. I'm not going to go kill or hurt anybody, but I can at least paint the anger. That's how I'm coping. It's healthier. Birdy: Tell us a little bit about your show at Mortal Machine Gallery. Joe Vaux: It's a group show called Signals From Elsewhere. The title alludes to aliens and extraterrestrial contact. At the time I was painting for it, there was another round of UAP news. You were seeing little ships flying around. I kind of latched onto that. I've done paintings with flying saucers before, but not a giant Independence Day-style invasion. More like they're little bugs. I've always thought bugs were like little aliens. Anytime I see a praying mantis crawling around, I can't help but think, Where are you from? So I treated the saucers like insects. Maybe the ships are huge, but on the planets they're visiting they're more like bugs, flying around and meeting the locals. I ended up doing this series of mostly nocturnal scenes. There are little beams of light coming down from the ships like they're investigating things. But they're also being watched by something else that lives there. There's one aquatic painting with sharks. The title was stolen from the Kessel Run — Han Solo bragging about doing something really difficult with his ship. So I imagined an aquatic version where they have to swim through these shark-filled kelp forests. It became Kelp Run. Birdy: Speaking of sharks we wanted to talk about them and Jaws. Joe Vaux: Love. Go ahead. Birdy: You love sharks. We love sharks. Did Jaws influence your fondness of them? Joe Vaux: I mean, Jaws terrified most people, right? But I think even as a kid, part of me rooted for the shark. When I finally read the book, the shark lives. It disappears into the deep blue. I think that was the beginning of it. And those early National Geographic shark issues. I used to love flipping through those. I'm certainly scared of sharks, but I think they're beautiful and graceful. Their design is just perfect. I always dug dragons too. I like things that scare humans, that still put fear into us and humble us because we think we're the apex species on this planet. Birdy: We love that about your art. The beasts, creatures, monsters, sharks — they seem like the protagonists, the good guys. At least to us. Joe Vaux: To me, they are the good guys. We're in their environment. It's the risk we take. I'm always rooting for the animals. Birdy: They're better than humans. Joe Vaux: They really are. Birdy: It always feel like we're stepping into their world too with your art. Each painting is like an episode, or a diorama, always capturing a moment. How much of that is planned out? Joe Vaux: I always travel with a notebook. If I've had a jUjeodjUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://wJl8SYhRzxIgnRIMLm41Q8Ip3XOa9y58PcZs2kH8qPMޓ`et׉ 7cassandra://OK_pB_N0HJ5IX9zcP9GvCX5Gb5F8Hh3smZx-jBZP1XQ K`׉ 7cassandra://qLqhtmmiArJgYIuetvD_DMrwK_nR3JcSEK_DeGe42bMX`jUjeoe.נjUjeoe2Ё̥ 9ׁHhttp://BRASSWORKSGALLERY.COMׁ ׁ ЈנjUjeoe1̦ 9ׁHhttp://MORTALMACHINENOLA.COMׁ ׁ ЈנjUjeoe0PV 9ׁHhttp://JOEVAUX.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉E particularly hard drawing day, or I know I'm going to paint after work, I'll sketch. But I don't stress too much about drawing. My whole point is that because I redraw things constantly in animation, I don't want to lose the playful energy when I'm doing my own work. I'll have a loose composition, but I don't like to overthink it. I work a lot of it out directly on the painting. It leaves room to discover something new or try something unexpected. Sometimes that bites me in the ass, but I've done enough of these now that I can usually wrestle my way out of a tight situation. Keeping it light and fun has helped keep the passion alive. I've always come from a place where maybe I didn't feel like I drew quite as well as the next person. I think I get scared to put too much energy into a drawing because I might realize I don't like something and abandon it. If I start with the painting instead, I'm already committed. For my kind of punk style, it's more like, "Let's make it happen." Birdy: Free association. Flow state. It’s kind of how you go about life. You're very in the moment, always moving on to the next creation. Joe Vaux: It's ironic because I'm also highly neurotic and anxious. You'd think all of these things couldn't exist in the same head. Birdy: For whatever reason this is bringing a saying to mind: "In life No. 150 you need two things: thick skin and a good sense of humor." Joe Vaux: Yeah, both of those get tested daily, whether you have them or not. I guess some people naturally let things roll off their shoulders a little better, but for me it's been something I've had to learn. Either you learn to avoid the situations that threaten your thin skin, or eventually it gets a little thicker. Artists are sensitive little creatures. Birdy: We are. We're also not meant to go through everything alone. It's okay to ask for help, to reach out. A quick message to another artist can remind you that you're not the only one feeling a certain way. Joe Vaux: It's like birds of a feather flock together. Different birds have different stories, but you're all kind of feeling similar bird feelings, so it's nice to have bird friends. SEE MORE WORK & FOLLOW ALONG: JOEVAUX.COM | @JOEVAUX SIGNALS FROM ELSEWHERE | GROUP EXHIBITION MORTAL MACHINE GALLERY | NEW ORLEANS, LA THROUGH JULY 2026 | MORTALMACHINENOLA.COM BUG OFF | SOLO EXHIBITION BRASSWORKS GALLERY | PORTLAND, OR OPENS SEPT. 12, 2026 | BRASSWORKSGALLERY.COM IT CAME FROM QUAHOG ׉ 7cassandra://qLqhtmmiArJgYIuetvD_DMrwK_nR3JcSEK_DeGe42bMX`jUjeod׉E13 jUjeoejUjeodבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://6OyK_kOx4nlfUHLlpLMFI5ORLP3EM1UObG2eVklwRsQY`et׉ 7cassandra://2gYi_kAC3Cl4t4vdpErI-uZLCDzZzRgGDIhP5mYekO8>-`׉ 7cassandra://wNg4sfVCn3v0jcPLLm_di6yh8SOtRKzZD3Sm-1xdcuU``jUjeoe3נjUjeoe7b9ׁHhttp://WWW.HOUSEOFROULX.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉Egthese conversations are simply a fan fawning over their idol’s amazing life among the creative elite, but Helen’s descriptions of minute, detailed memories start to become eerily similar to the narrator’s own life. The parallels increase as the narrator notes intimate details of her personal history appearing in Helen’s old diaries, and she begins to suspect something more nefarious is occurring. Lisa Tuttle’s novella manages to pack in a mystical My Death by Lisa Tuttle (2004) “What the dream had shown me was the familiar become strange, how frightening the ordinary can be.” An American widow living in rural Scotland is making small attempts to return her life to normalcy after the unexpected death of her husband. A professional writer, she had not written since his death. When her agent emails to let her know he will be in Edinburgh for work and would like to have lunch, she takes the opportunity, driven by the need to start making some money to avoid having to take up other work to make ends meet. Arriving a little early to the meeting, she visits the National Galley and sees a painting: Circe by W.E. Logan. This chance viewing sparks the subject for her new book. Departing from fiction, she decides she must write a biography of one of her favorite authors, Helen Ralston, the muse and mistress of W.E. Logan, who had a lesser-known creative career in his shadow. Fortunes favor the narrator again when her suggested biography subject compels her agent to introduce her to his friend who has a mysterious painting in his collection that they can visit that afternoon. Hanging in his home is Helen Ralston’s My Death, a painting of a Scottish island with a figure hidden in the image. This figure was of a “woman, naked, on her back, her knees up and legs splayed open,” and at the center, “what drew the eye and commanded the attention, was the woman’s vulva: all the life of the painting was concentrated there.” After seeing this intimate piece, the narrator becomes set on the task of honoring this forgotten writer and artist and on returning My Death to its creator. She arranges to meet Helen Ralston, now very old, and interview her for the biography. At first No. 150 story about art, women and life into just over 100 pages. She questions our understanding of female creators and how we tie their stories and work to the men who surround them, so often relating them to their relationships rather than their individual work. Surprising and bubbling with mystery, My Death is a vital work in Tuttle’s impressive catalog. Why Art? by Eleanor Davis (2018) Before examining the title question of her 2018 graphic novel, Why Art?, Eleanor Davis leads readers through what an artwork is. Deceptively simple and almost like a children’s book, she expands on this concept explaining that artwork can have color, be differently sized, but it can also be categorized by how it makes us feel and what it evokes. “There are some artworks that are meant to remind the audience of things we’d rather forget, things so awful they shouldn’t be true.” All these explanations are paired with simple, almost always black and white drawings that seem to motivate the imagination to think of artworks that fit into each of her descriptive categories. In the second half of her graphic novel, Davis details a story of members of an artist collective, each with a unique skill. They plan a show that gets destroyed through an inexplicable, devastating weather event. One of the artists finds a tiny shadowbox during the chaos showing a joyful, utopian community. They plead to be saved by the shadowbox people, and move to live among them, going on to create tiny versions of themselves who create new, tiny artworks. A beautifully simple meditation on a gigantic concept, Why Art? is a sweet comment on the need to create and the irreplaceable importance of art in all its forms. By Hana Zittel ׉ 7cassandra://wNg4sfVCn3v0jcPLLm_di6yh8SOtRKzZD3Sm-1xdcuU``jUjeoe׉EINTRODUCING MOON PATROL ARTIST TRADING CARDS - SERIES 2 Visit House of Roulx for Artist Trading Cards, Fine Art Prints, Original Artwork & Much More. WWW.HOUSEOFROULX.COM @HOUSEOFROULX @HOUSEOFROULXTRADINGCARDS jUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://JJsnL2Lwk3l_4iGCsIVTX5IeXdntPdfkRAMHYxbd2WA!`et׉ 7cassandra://t_pLidIQS9swGd10ZJN6ry7g2efDjhdAPTchQIA80G8٤`׉ 7cassandra://0gl2cDN7cT7y5smWychegqxGJUcG4TnVPloJEmfTgg8B `jUjeoe5׉E׉ 7cassandra://0gl2cDN7cT7y5smWychegqxGJUcG4TnVPloJEmfTgg8B `jUjeoe׉E2PAUL JACKSON, SHARK AND SQUID - @PAULJACKSONLIVES jUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://qcpLAqMASWICoA8M8LnMrjRPfR7MGVUQENGfAQgtexI`et׉ 7cassandra://GetUiBc-ueRTv2stlS03B4B_TDDpM97IePGdYyEYRyA?`׉ 7cassandra://COLcIhSQpq2SL9ruH4EgWIPRfCPS_3wAZJSQwHj3yfk> `jUjeoe8נjUjeoe:eˁO 9ׁHhttp://CULT.CLׁ ׁ Ј׉E;CAITLYN GRABENSTEIN, RIDING THE WAVE OF LIFE - @CULT.CLASS ׉ 7cassandra://COLcIhSQpq2SL9ruH4EgWIPRfCPS_3wAZJSQwHj3yfk> `jUjeoe׉E19 jUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://pmANaxupR3szlsF0FW1OBWgLujSTgiQSjVDbaKlss5s`et׉ 7cassandra://xVns51S347L-Lpic-PNbPQPB2rirS4GIvUXl1Zg3HF0&`׉ 7cassandra://L3DuzJ6ge7TaQLCnCctXOsmAfMB1z9iwWbWNNNwM30cO`jUjeoe;׉EBEST OF 104 No. 150 ׉ 7cassandra://L3DuzJ6ge7TaQLCnCctXOsmAfMB1z9iwWbWNNNwM30cO`jUjeoe׉EK21 BRIAN J HOFFMAN - @BRIANJAYHOFFMAN NICK FLOOK, STILL STANDING - @FLOOKO jUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://bD0l0L3Kj73U-lfAvZS5bjzLBO9-snsVFPsHXeBz2mM`et׉ 7cassandra://OFx3KhY1FG7hxbqKglU7paIcA8tkoNltQniTkbAdmlc`׉ 7cassandra://mp2orZXjQMS1HbAJym8AuqAQ1rRhl5ew8QU2sbyEfp0U:`jUjeoe=׉E׉ 7cassandra://mp2orZXjQMS1HbAJym8AuqAQ1rRhl5ew8QU2sbyEfp0U:`jUjeoe ׉E\BY STACY PERALTA It was just after 8 p.m. on a Tuesday night in the winter of 2023 when the phone rang. It was my friend Mike Shine calling out of the blue and telling me he was holed up at a grungy beach motel about a mile away. He asked if I would stop at the nearest liquor store, grab a bottle of red wine and join him. When I arrived he had his easel set up in the narrow space between the double bed and the window. He was midway through a painting when he told me he was traveling from Bolinas to Santa Monica, stopping along the way at cheap motels, completing a new painting, and then moving on. I uncorked the wine bottle, ripped off the wrapping from two plastic motel cups and poured us each a glass. We toasted and began catching up. Mike and I met in 2004. He was one of the founders of Butler, Shine, Stern & Partners, then the country’s most successful mid-level advertising agency, made famous for their well-known MINI Cooper campaign. I had directed an ad campaign for Columbia Sportswear, a company his agency represented, and got to know him on the shoot. During that campaign he told me he was leaving his position to begin a new career as a painter. I thought he was nuts considering how successful his company was, but then again, I had just met him and didn’t know how creative and determined he was. Later that night as we depleted the wine we hit a lull in the conversation. As I looked around the space I noticed how void it was of anything interesting. It was just a plain, ugly motel room. I had an idea: “It would be really cool to do a painting for this room, something that might brighten it up and something the maids wouldn’t even notice.” I said it more as a joke, I wasn’t serious but Mike put his brush down and looked at me. I could see his wheels turning. He removed the canvas from the easel he’d been working on and replaced it with a fresh one. “That’s a great idea. Let’s do it!” I laughed aloud as he handed me a brush, “But I don’t know how to paint!” Mike smiled and casually replied, “You’re about to learn.” For the next two hours I carefully watched him paint and then, just as carefully, followed his instructions while he guided me on how to use the brush properly. We tag-teamed the canvas until somewhere around midnight we had a finished painting. The next morning I arrived with a few cups of coffee and a tack. I pressed the tack into one of the open walls and Mike hung the painting. It rested nicely as if it had always been there. He sipped his coffee and then turned to me and said, “That was so much fun that I want to do it again”. That evening Mike checked himself into anaother grungy beach motel a few blocks down the boulevard, this one just as void of beauty as the previous one. Except it had a Western theme which lent the idea to paint a black and white portrait of John Wayne. Mike sketched out Wayne’s face on the canvas and then under his guidance and enthusiasm we completed our second painting by midnight. We hung it the next morning right next to the faded picture of an old saloon. “It’s a perfect fit,” Mike said, “looks like it’s always been there.” We hit two more motels over the following two days. Each featured a new painting that reflected the aesthetic of that particular room. At our fourth motel we produced a painting of my dog, Toby, my friend’s dog, Finn, and the motel owner’s dog, Julius, all three pictured together at the check-in desk. We titled the painting Three Dog Night. It was such a sweet image that we decided against hanging it in Mike’s room and instead gave it to the motel owner. We presented it to her the next morning. She looked at it and started crying. — I’ve been drawing all of my life. I began as a kid copying the cartoon characters out of Mad Magazine and then moved forward a notch by copying the magnificent waves of artist Rick Griffin, the famous cartoonist in Surfer Magazine. But by high school my drawing style had flipped to the abstract. I doodled in every notebook and in every class if the teacher allowed. If I could doodle, I could hear and absorb what MIKE SHINE, STACY PERALTA, SAWYER SHINE jUjeoe jUjeoe בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://MKTE6m_jJcs991ac8P2bC8oox4lYMY5Vwg4PN1RLwms9`et׉ 7cassandra://7uV9zSPDZ_s_pB8nnzRY-k3ik0-4lNLkjrQ1EZcXmYE L`׉ 7cassandra://Kz7DAAXyQfgY_ihExbWz1gw4npf0fv9_nrhJ8ky4TvUS`jUjeoe?׉E!they were saying. If I couldn’t, my mind wandered out the door. Although I drew for years, what I really wanted to do was paint. Miró and Kandinsky are two of my favorite painters, so I assumed that since I already drew in the abstract, I would paint in the abstract. But no matter how many times I tried, I could never connect with it, I just didn’t find it as satisfying as drawing. Yet I wanted to paint. I wanted to paint so badly that for two years I used paint-by-numbers. I loved the process of brushing paint on canvas and completed almost twenty of them: flowers in vases, flowers in fields, ballet dancers, pianists, you name it. It never occurred to me that I might like painting real-life objects as opposed to abstract pieces. When Mike Shine arrived that night in that dingy beach motel and coerced me into taking on the brush in this new way, it opened a chapter in my life that I didn’t know was there to open. He not only encouraged me to paint alongside him during our four motel visits, he encouraged others. During that same week we threw a few small impromptu dinner parties inside the various rooms he was staying in. Mike encouraged all of us to participate in group paintings which let us play like children. On one occasion we produced a painting of Captain Crunch and on another the Nestlé Drumstick ice cream cone. It was pure, stupid fun. Mike presented painting as something that can be done loosely and playfully and without a lot of heady thinking. He made it accessible and attainable. I mean, painting Captain Crunch and an ice cream cone? Can it get any less serious? Yet, serious it became. Because had someone like a tarot card reader or a clairvoyant told me during that crazy week of guerrilla painting that in a year and a half I’d be showing my own paintings of real-life objects, I would have told them they were nuts. It would have made no sense to me on any level. I had no idea that Mike’s actions had lit a fuse inside of me. The day he left town I began painting and I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I painted on any materials I could find: chunks of cement, large flat rocks, driftwood I found lying on the beach, old plywood and finally thick fibrous paper, which is where I eventually landed. I painted every day, some times eight hours a day. I got so much joy out of it that I lost myself in it. In one seven-month period I completed over ninety paintings. I wasn’t doing this to set a land-speed record, I was doing it because it made me feel good and it made me feel connected. And then one day Gina, the woman I’m lucky enough to spend my life with, suggested I start painting images of my skateboard collection. I have an extremely rare collection, one of the most rare collections in the world dating back to the beginning of the sport, with homemade boards and repurposed roller skate trucks and wheels. But my collection had been sitting in darkness and unseen for decades. Even though it was something I had wanted to share with the world, I couldn’t find the venue to do so. She suggested painting individual pieces of it might be a way to share it. At first I thought it was a bad idea but then it began to grow in me and I decided to give it a shot. This was mid-September 2023. By February of the following year, a gallery owner named Charles Smith asked to show those very same paintings in his gallery not far from my home. And then a year later another show with gallerist Charles Adler in Santa Monica, and then group shows in Venice Beach, Hermosa Beach, Japan and then in Orange County at the Ohana Festival. This crazy journey that suddenly sprung up in my life unexpectedly and without any advance warning at all began as the result of my allergic reaction to an ugly little motel room in a tiny town on the coast of California. No. 150 STACY PERALTA, GINA MIKKELSEN, COOPER SHINE ׉ 7cassandra://Kz7DAAXyQfgY_ihExbWz1gw4npf0fv9_nrhJ8ky4TvUS`jUjeoe ׉E&MIKE SHINE, SHY SASQUATCH - @SHINANOV jUjeoe jUjeoe בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://AQ4ZCqA2WrH71v9cXO3UINQZakm60fbv-cQfaOd_JaM3`et׉ 7cassandra://5pUT_nc8wZnUMJHqmqEpoJ6b7OU9d2F6G3i9DawyHEgO`׉ 7cassandra://DmjDrz6PGcQDdvpoTqAlI3MyTbusZF6TpbbYfL16rrc<`jUjeoeA׉ENo. 150 ׉ 7cassandra://DmjDrz6PGcQDdvpoTqAlI3MyTbusZF6TpbbYfL16rrc<`jUjeoe ׉EBEST OF 123 jUjeoejUjeoe בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://tm4tKqMI31S4Uw9Iy4ByYtGdxWdQZCPjpJXbsg5sanU`et׉ 7cassandra://o_thWr_vz0isG51V7edzY3dOtRu1soDu0pIqmmcLx6Y`׉ 7cassandra://9OmckLYCnrtHZEnwWyEYNlchBVuKR7-iWFUY47io2LsX`jUjeoeC׉E׉ 7cassandra://9OmckLYCnrtHZEnwWyEYNlchBVuKR7-iWFUY47io2LsX`jUjeoe׈EjUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://bUT9Wg1a-AI18yqNUjncVYk2Jy3lI6-n3ubaHhaGu94Y`et׉ 7cassandra://rV_-3riOVLTwti7SSihT0YtGfd6oMlGYGdqJirpP6sU;`׉ 7cassandra://kNvNz80M7dsZ14xL5gBMh2Zw0vSmZNXO-D0mrcF5iFYH`jUjeoeEנjUjeoeG܁̒ 9ׁHhttp://QUEENCITYSOUNDS.ORGׁ ׁ Ј׉E*A STRANGE HAPPENING – TRIA PULSAT Tria Pulsat invites us into a kind of alternative dimension for storytelling with the sounds of an ancient and BY TOM MURPHY distorted radio broadcast. The album feels like it’s arranged to be a soundtrack to a lost Don Coscarelli film. This is incandescent alt-country-flavored rock given a human resonance by Jacob Adamson’s soulful quaver. On the spooky and moody “Ever Crone,” Elisha Coy elevates the blues groove with her warm yet spectral warble. The album’s title perhaps means “Three Knocks,” and each song is like a room in a haunted local hangout, separated by a fragment of late-night radio salvaged from broadcasts sent into space 70 years ago. Refreshingly unique. BUTTHOLE SURFERS – AFTER THE ASTRONAUT Intended as the follow up to the 1996 hit record Electriclarryland and recorded in 1998, this album was immediately deemed not suitable for release by Capitol Records. A different version of many of these songs was put out as Weird Revolution in 2001. Fortunately, the glorious strangeness of the tracks was preserved. These original recordings reveal the band delving deeper into electronic music aesthetics, beat-driven composition and experiments in soundmaking. Armed with a new set of tools, they lean fully into the influential and deeply creative, bizarre lane the Butthole Surfers embodied and pioneered. Think a psychedelic acid house, big beat dub punk record with a devilishly subversive edge. COP KILLER – S/T This EP begins with a sample but immediately accelerates to an unhinged aggression and caustic spirit toward abusive authority. “Police State” roasts the surveillance and security state. “Copaganda” demolishes the collusion of media and culture with capital in lionizing the police, in spite of obvious and ample evidence of egregious abuse in service of the latter. “Antisocial Network” comes off like Big Black in its vitriolic blasts of fuzz, further amplifying disdain for mass media as a tool of state repression. “Three Letter Organizations” is reminiscent of prime MDC in sonically and verbally taking down the FCC, NSA, DEA and CIA. The cover of Body Count’s Cop Killer updates the tune for modern times. An instant classic. GOLD GLUE – THE DREAM CHANGES The opening track “Not A Yo La Tengo Cover” sets the mood for this album. Although it doesn’t sound like a YLT song, it has dynamic depths that one expects from the indie rock legends. Besides, it’s more like Wilco trying to write like Mission of Burma. That aside, throughout this set of songs there is a palpable sense of seeking meaning through everyday experiences rather than chasing it in the sorts of things you’re told to find it. The tracks have some raw edges, but it suits the mood perfectly. With humor informed by having been through the wringer and dark places of the heart multiple times, this album is heavy and harrowing, yet hopeful and uplifting. JESUS CHRIST TAXI DRIVER – TAXI THE RICH For its sophomore record, Jesus Christ Taxi Driver pushes further into its signature blend of blues rock and proto punk with a touch of psychedelia. More stylistically refined and focused than 2023’s Lick My Soul, it also reveals the band has shed any of the affectations of previous projects and captures more fully the nearly unhinged energy of the live show. The album indulges in conceptual flourishes that dig at American culture, especially pointedly at the Epstein class with the borderline yacht rock “Too Cold To Golf.” But the whole record is a send-up of the now completely discredited fiction of American exceptionalism, including the farce of the American Dream. TINY HUMANS – S/T If the better grunge bands were essentially punk updated for a new era of austerity politics eroding and crushing the dreams and hopes of a new generation, this self-titled debut EP is in that tradition. Rich with cathartic riffs fusing melody and distortion, there is something undeniably catchy about these songs. It’s not pop punk, but the music feels anthemic. And if an immediate comparison might be made with grunge, it isn’t sludgy, slow or dark. Instead, it’s more irreverent in its heated vocal moments and sharing the sense of alienation and cynicism for mainstream culture and its compromised hypocrisies that gave alternative rock its edge. SEE MORE: QUEENCITYSOUNDS.ORG No. 150 ׉ 7cassandra://kNvNz80M7dsZ14xL5gBMh2Zw0vSmZNXO-D0mrcF5iFYH`jUjeoe׉EtTHE FAIRYTALE’S OVER BY MICHAEL ROQUE The credits rolled on a predictable “happily ever after” note. Bambi, triumphant, stood with his dad, seven dwarfs chased the Evil Queen off the mountain’s ledge and a generation of kids were tucked into a million little racecar beds. A generation adrift in dreams, snoozed through their fairytales flattened by the collapsed walls of a caved-in 20th century, AWOKE to mounting debts. AWOKE on sidewalks. AWOKE to the reality that this movie was never Disney, but just a handful of happy little scenes in a bizarre film by Fellini. ACTION! Caught in a rifle’s scope, Bambi and Faline are butchered in a human home. A divorced drunk, sleeping Snow White is sneakily felt up by the dwarfs she so dearly trusts. And the film— rolls— on. 31 ALAN ROY, DRAWN WITH A BROKEN HAND - @ORT_BYROY BRIAN J HOFFMAN, SNITCHWEED - @BRIANJAYHOFFMAN jUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://LqyHcvLn_BAfoLSe_09mEsgvqvgii27WC6JkkTylMTouJ`et׉ 7cassandra://CbvTCzhy9ItbT5Wm-Av5hg2TwSiw-MiGyLlAMQh8ohQ#`׉ 7cassandra://RTb65V7CNmRvdBdLU2FO8bwWHRUylpv6z9eheNosxtk[`jUjeoeH׉E׉ 7cassandra://RTb65V7CNmRvdBdLU2FO8bwWHRUylpv6z9eheNosxtk[`jUjeoe׈EjUjeoejUjeoeבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://f0ds5KRXJTFzn76xngDTvYZDFCb5PQl4Druwz6Vsk6M`׉ 7cassandra://CJLtr-ZbuzPGmNBQYJTsCVOyubM3o4XBpdnV1SNGM0c͙Q`r׉ 7cassandra://imoe04pYSMObGrfSbZyHoUuyH27bjObFuQJ0dvI6TRc1m`jUjeoeJ׉E׉ 7cassandra://imoe04pYSMObGrfSbZyHoUuyH27bjObFuQJ0dvI6TRc1m`jUjeoe׈EjUjeoejUjeoe,BIRDY ISSUE 150zPublished JULY 2026. Birdy Magazine: art, words, comedy, et cetera. Available monthly in print or online. Print is undead.jUjsw