Photo: ThatGuyGil

Click images to view captions and in full-size. Photos by ThatGuyGil.

Michael Elliott is an artist, designer, creative, event coordinator, music enthusiast and a true gem of Salt Lake City. He has been an active participant in the queer nightlife scene for the past decade. He loves this city and its people, and it shows as love radiates from this handsome beefcake. I’ve interacted with him from time to time over the years, grabbing drinks at drag shows where he used to bartend (he frequently called his patrons “Hun” and gave them little winks), or at one of the recent SLC SLAY Balls. But this time, I got to dig into him and spotlight someone who normally sticks to working behind the scenes—it turned up gold.

Born and raised in the Salt Lake Area, Elliott came out at a young age with a good support system. His Mom asked if he was gay—he said yes. He experienced something that not all queer youth get to experience here in Utah. But tragedy struck soon after, when his mom passed away in 2017, and that was when he really learned not to take life for granted. “Why sit there and wait for life to happen to you or put your dreams on the back burner? Follow your dreams—do what you love and spend time with the people you love and make memories,” Elliott says. The familial support he received in his youth propelled him to provide similar support to others in need in our community.

Recently, Elliott began studying at Salt Lake Community College with the intent of becoming a fashion designer. His hope is to encourage those whose body proportions are outside of beauty norms to embrace their curves and swerves, and create their ideal visual of comfort. Elliott, himself, wears an outfit completely constructed of his own accord. “Fashion is such a fantastic thing for me,” says Elliott. “It’s my suit of armor for the day. It gives me confidence and puts that extra bounce in my step. Growing up, I thought that I had to dress, live, breathe and sleep everything within one genre of fashion. But once I realized I could be whoever I wanted and do whatever I wanted, that’s when I really flourished.” Although he had little experience initially with creating fashion, he has since become a representative in his own way for those who have also had difficulty with finding the size or design of clothing that fit a specific intent.

Over the last year, Elliott has been coordinating the SLC SLAY event—an East Coast–ball-inspired dance competition. This centers on groups of competitors working toward acknowledgement or recognition, often called “families,” who compete in waacking and voguing styles of dance. These families are primarily constructed of individuals exiled from blood relatives due to sexual orientation or religious preferences, who create new relations based on necessity and preference. Elliott’s SLC SLAY events have worked to create a community where individuals can express their own artistic endeavors. “As someone who considers themselves an outsider, I never felt like I personally fit in. The biggest thing that stuck out to me about the ball culture is the heavy emphasis on family. A lot of people got involved in houses and ball culture after being outed by their own families for being gay, trans or doing drag and they didn’t have anywhere else to go. These houses welcomed them in and gave them an avenue to showcase their talents and harness their energy into something positive and wonderful,” says Elliott. Wanting to create a space where all—particularly the queer youth of SLC—feel welcome, Elliott has worked tirelessly to build a platform for future artists, creators, designers, dancers and body-positive enthusiasts.

Despite only recently diving into the career world in which he now resides, Elliott hopes to continue to pursue his desire to create family within community. “My eventual goal for all of this is if we can reach our youth and, especially, our queer youth and let them know they have a voice and an avenue and people who care and will be there for them—that’s everything to me. The little 12-year-old me would have been over the moon for that kind of community support.” He hopes to continue his pursuit of fashion design and expand his influence to the world. Elliott also hopes to continue connecting with his community through music, dance, fashion and love.

Be sure to not miss out on the upcoming SLC SLAY events. April 7, 2019, SLC SLAY will be hosting the first teen SLC SLAY Bunny KiKi Ball for competitors less than 17 years of age. Doors will be at 5 p.m. at the HERC at 2505 S. State St. May 12 will be the 18+ SLC SLAY A KiKi In Wonderland event at Impact Hub at 6 p.m. Also, make sure you follow Elliott’s personal artist journey @destructicorn on Instagram and @Michael Elliott on Facebook.


Back in my day, comic-book stories stayed on comic-book pages. Yes, there were Batman movies—the best still being 1997’s Batman & Robin, naysayers be damned—but superheroes were mostly relegated to print. A live-action Hulk could fucking not be done.

I’m still right on that one, but the rest of the Marvel, DC, and other comic-brand universes are now inescapable on all the screens, all the time. TV has been more prolific and creative with its adaptations—Netflix (Marvel) and The CW (DC), in particular. You already know about those, so they won’t be covered here.

Instead, here are 10 comics-based TV series ranging from “Hey, I’ve heard of that!” to “Huh?” status to stream while you’re waiting for Captain Marvel, Avengers: Endgame, and Aquaman v. Magic Mike: Dawn of Thrust-Us.

Deadly Class (Season 1 on and Syfy app)

Based on the eponymous Image Comics series, Deadly Class is an ’80s-set action-snarker about a secret academy that trains good-looking teens to kill elegantly—“Harry Potter Assassin School” will do. Deadly Class is smart enough to go toe-to-knife-tipped-toe with Syfy cousin The Magicians, but with a gonzo-goth edge all its own and a killer, Reagan-era soundtrack.

Blade: The Series

(Season 1 on CW Seed)

The original 1998 Blade was the first “real” Marvel movie, effectively wiping away the foul/fowl aftertaste of ’80s bomb Howard the Duck. To replace vampire hunter Wesley Snipes, 2006’s Blade: The Series cast Onyx rapper Sticky Fingaz and cranked out 13 solid-to-superb episodes before cancelation by Spike TV. Netflix’s gritty Daredevil and Luke Cage owe this Blade.

Painkiller Jane (Season 1 on Hoopla, Tubi and Roku Channel)

A ’90s Event/Icon Comics title that became a 2005 TV movie and a 2007 Syfy series, Painkiller Jane (Kristanna Loken) is The Punisher and Wolverine wrapped into an Instagram model. She’s a vigilante crime-fighter with brutal combat skills and an indestructible body (though Jane can still feel pain). It’s a A forgotten series that’s soon to be a Marvel flick starring Jessica Chastain.

Black Scorpion (Season 1 on Prime Video)

Moving backwards, ridiculous 2001 Syfy series Black Scorpion, which was preceded by a couple of equally ridiculous movies in the ’90s, was a TV show that later became a less-ridiculous comic book. The series, starring Michelle Lintel as barely leather-clad vigilante Black Scorpion, is ’60s Batman camp crossed with softcore fetish porn—kinky superhero cosplayers take note.

Preacher (Seasons 1-2 on Hulu)

A disillusioned drunk of a small-town Texas preacher (Dominic Cooper and his gravity-defying hair) suddenly has the power to bend people’s will—so he sets out to find God with his trigger-happy ex, Tulip (Ruth Negga), and Irish vampire bud Cassidy (Joseph Gilgun) in tow. The Vertigo comic Preacher is fantastically, mind-fuckingly weird; TV Preacher doesn’t disappoint.

(Seasons 1-3 on Netflix)

Another hell-larious Vertigo import, Fox-to-Netflix series Lucifer follows the exploits of a “retired” Devil (Tom Ellis) opening an L.A. nightclub and helping local police solve crimes—it helps if you don’t think about it too hard. Despite its cop-show trappings, Lucifer mixes devilish comedy and heavy drama seamlessly, and Ellis plays the best Satan since South Park’s.

Mutant X (Seasons 1-3 on Roku Channel)

A year after X-Men cracked the superhero code in 2000, Marvel and Canada produced a blatant rip-off, er, “unrelated property,” syndicated TV series Mutant X. Super-powered beings who look great in leather—what’s the deal with all the leather, anyway?—fight evil and search for fellow mutants while avoiding government capture and 20th Century Fox lawsuits.

The Gifted
(Seasons 1-2 on Hulu)

A better, more legal TV take on X-Men arrived in 2017 with Fox’s The Gifted, which focuses on younger mutants struggling to control their powers and a normie society that’s determined to snuff them out. The Gifted only dabbles in action and flash, focusing more on characters like Polaris (Emma Dumont) who get little play in the X-Men screen universe.

(Seasons 1-2 on Hulu)

Showrunner Noah Hawley (Fargo, the TV version) took an already-surreal Marvel Comics X-Men series about the psychologically damaged mutant son of Charles Xavier (Dan Stevens) and turned it into a Pink Floyd acid trip of a TV show. Yet somehow, it’s the most intimate and heartbreaking corner of X-World. Legion is the ultimate cure for superhero burnout.

Night Man
(Seasons 1-2 on Roku Channel)

No, not the enemy of the Day Man from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia—this Night Man is a Malibu Comics character who got his own TV series that lasted for two stupid years in the ’90s. Jazz saxophonist Johnny Domino (Matt McColm) is struck by lightning and suddenly has the power to “hear” evil—like Daredevil, but with shitty musical taste. So bad it’s … still bad.

Barack Obama was sworn in as president. The King of Pop, Michael Jackson, passed away. The second-greatest film in cinematic history, Crank 2: High Voltage, was released. Now-decade-old 2009 was an auspicious as fuck year.

That’s not even counting SLUG turning 20, which means 2019 is the year it hits 30, aka barren and unwanted in Utah. Congratulations, and sorry.

TV had a pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good 2009, as well. Here are nine iconic-to-obscure shows that debuted 10 years ago to stream while pondering what the hell you’ve done with your life.

Parks & Recreation (Seasons 1–7 on Prime Video and Hulu)

Community—which also premiered on NBC in 2009—may carry more cred with smug culture nerds, but Parks & Recreation is as warm and timeless as a Li’l Sebastian snuggie. Leslie Knope, Ron Swanson and the rest of Pawnee, Indiana’s finest created a bottomless pit of quotable memes over 125 perfect episodes, which are best enjoyed with a chilled tumbler of Snake Juice.

Archer (Seasons 1–8 on Hulu)

There’s no tighter animation voice cast than that of Archer—though star H. Jon Benjamin’s other cartoon, Bob’s Burgers, is close. As international superspy Sterling Archer, HJB has swaggered/drunkenly stumbled through the hilariously profane and shit-talking series with no lessons learned, except for maybe phrasing (wait, are we still doing that?). Better than Bond.

The League (Seasons 1–7 on Hulu)

Fantasy football leagues are monumentally stupid—and addictively bonding. The League illustrated this over seven hysterical seasons following a group of pals who’ll stop at nothing to win The Shiva, the league’s trophy. Sportsball knowledge isn’t required; The League is all about pranks, one-upsmanship and brazenly un-P.C. insult tsunamis. Could not be made in 2019.

Dollhouse (Seasons 1–2 on Hulu)

An underground company rents out the services of persona-imprinted “Dolls” whose brains are wiped clean after every escort/mission … or are they? Creator Joss Whedon and star Eliza Dushku never quite found a clear path for Dollhouse, but it’s fun to watch them sell complex identity sci-fi on TV nearly a decade before Westworld. Somebody give Dushku a new show, now.

Eastbound & Down (Seasons 1–4 on HBO Go)

Washout former Major League Baseball pitcher Kenny Powers (Danny McBride) plots a comeback on the diamond—rules, logic and fashion be damned (could the roots of #MAGA be traced to E&D?). Eastbound & Down rides on the glorious mullet of Kenny Fucking Powers (full name), whose narcissistic journey back to glory is as quasi-inspiring as it is profanely funny.

Nurse Jackie (Seasons 1–7 on Netflix)

During the heyday of the male antihero (think Breaking Bad, Californication, Rescue Me, et al), ex-Sopranos star Edie Falco came out of nowhere as a pill-popping, adulterating, morally ambiguous New York City nurse spinning more sketchy webs than Tony Soprano. It’s a tense drama, but Nurse Jackie also delivers laughs (thanks to breakout co-star Merritt Wever).

Hung (Seasons 1–3 on Prime Video and HBO Go)

Down-and-out high-school basketball coach Ray (Thomas Jane) needs a second job—fortunately, what he lacks in luck (his ex-wife is Anne Heche; ’nuff said), he makes up for in dick. Soon, well-endowed male escort Ray and his pimpstress, Tanya (Jane Adams), are in business, and Hung turns out to be a surprisingly heartwarming comedy—with mucho banging, of course.

United States of Tara (Seasons 1–3 on Hulu)

Writer Diablo Cody (Juno, Jennifer’s Body) took a swing at TV with 2009 Showtime dramedy United States of Tara, starring international treasure Toni Collette. Tara (Collette) is a suburban mom with dissociative identity disorder, a condition that leaves her randomly switching between four wildly different personalities. One of the kids: future Captain Marvel Brie Larsen.

Party Down (Seasons 1–2 on Hulu)

It’s a cult favorite today, but comedy Party Down—about a group of nobody L.A. actors and writers (including Lizzy Caplan, Adam Scott and Jane Lynch) working for a catering biz—was an initial fail. Starz, the “Is Pepsi OK?” of cable, canceled Party Down after 20 episodes, but it holds up far better today than its polar Hollywood opposite, Entourage. Seriously—fuck Entourage.

(L–R) Mike Abu and Mike Brown commune with their peer group at estate sales to bring back sick loots. Photo: John Barkiple

The years of living with Mike Abu and being his friend have always been adventurous. Whether it’s seeing how many flags we could steal on our way home, drunkenly stumbling from the bar or blowing up our kitchen, weirdness always abounds. If you know Abu or have ever been to any of his living quarters, then you know that it’s riddled with weird shit, kind of like Pee Wee’s Playhouse without all of the public masturbation—just some of it. All those years I lived with him, I never questioned where he got an antique ice-cream scooper or a 1940s hair dryer. That is, until I went estate-sale shopping with him.

Abu invited me to go with him last month, and I cordially obliged. The thing is, estate sales happen in the morning, and I don’t really know what mornings are. I ignore and neglect mornings like a redheaded stepchild, so I obviously slept through the first estate sale Abu invited me to. Abu bribed me with beer and coffee, and dragged me to an estate sale in the Avenues the next day.

I meandered around some dead old lady’s house for a while, with several other people all digging through her old shit that her kids didn’t want—or that she was too busy hoarding, so us lucky estate sale shoppers got to pick up the leftovers. Fortunately, this lady really liked cats. There was cat shit everywhere, not like cat poo but cat items galore. I was able to pick up some cat pillows and cat ceramics on the cheap. Her fondness of cats and hoarding seemed to go hand in hand, like chocolate and biscuits. Abu bought a broom and a packet of old notepads for god knows what reason.

There were plenty of serious collectors there taking their time; people going over other miscellaneous items, people on their phones, probably looking up something on eBay to check a resale value and lots of old people. Old people like old stuff. Everyone was nice and friendly, and I must say, it was a great Black Friday shopping environment.

I decided that I should learn more about estate sales and what they are all about after this experience, so I called one of Abu’s estate colleagues to get some more info on how this whole thing goes down. Lou Barrett, owner and operator of B-Team Liquidations, was kind enough to let me pick his brain about how antiques go from dead people to collectors to antique stores and sometimes the D.I.

Photo: John Barkiple
Photo: John Barkiple

First off, someone has to die. That might sound harsh, but it’s all part of the brutal circle of life. You die, and someone gets to take your stuff. I’m well aware that all the Utah Jazz merch I’ve collected over the years will end up in someone else’s hands, eventually. But, Lou gets his leads for organizing estate sales mostly from realtors and from the trust department of a bank, not so much from funeral homes.

Lou used to run his own antique store, Wasatch Furniture, before he really got into running an estate-sale business—which makes sense because a majority of estate sale shoppers are antique-store people, or what Lou told me were “serious collectors.” Estate sales typically start on Friday, when the antique store people and serious resellers usually show up. They run all weekend, and B-Team Liquidation is usually able to sell about 70 to 90 percent of the stuff in the houses they purge.

I asked Lou what the strangest thing he’s ever sold was—it was a once-living stuffed monkey for $200. And no, Abu didn’t buy it because he rarely has $200 to blow. Other than that, there have been human skeletons—which I was surprised to find out could be legal to buy—and dentures. For some reason, Lou told me that he sells a lot of dentures at these estate sales. But like I said, there were lots of old people at the one I went to.

Lou does about 40 of these estate sales a year, roughly every weekend. You can find out about them from B-Team Liquidation’s Facebook page. I was surprised I didn’t see more candy-ass hipster kids at the estate sale I went to fighting over vinyl—probably too busy racking up scene points at the D.I. or Goodwill when the real good shit is in some dead lady’s house. In fact, I kind of feel bad blowing the ultimate secret about thrifting with this article, but I have a job to do.

I’ll be hitting up more of these estate sales in the future on my quest of having the ultimate Jazz shrine and some cat collectibles along the way. So if you see me there, keep your hands off the cat pillows—I call dibs.

With balance from the tropical hops, the finish presents hints of fresh grass and slight yet welcome bitterness. Photo: Chris Hollands

Beer Name: Ferda

Brewery: Templin Family Brewing

ABV: 8.2%

Serving Style:  16-oz. can

Guess who’s back? After short time away, Kevin Templin, former head brewer of Red Rock Brewing Co., once again successfully immersed himself into the Salt Lake City brewing scene. Although, Kevin and wife Britt Templin weren’t just taking a vacation from the beer world, a life they have known for well over two decades. They were putting forth fantastic effort that they’ve brought to the booming Granary District, another must-visit location for adult beverages. Launched this past October, Templin Family Brewing hit the ground running. The amount of detail put into the project is remarkable, and even more so how quickly it appeared to come together. Though T.F. Brewing will be focusing heavily on lager beer, every aspect of the operation looks to be seamlessly thought out, including the first canned beer, a big Double India Pale Ale. T.F. Brewing features a modern space, diverse food trucks, a variety of beer, and even the glassware selection hits the mark. All proof that Templin’s true grit prevails, producing a selection beyond the assortment of wholesome lagers is the Imperial India Pale Ale, Ferda.

Description: A tall 16-oz. aluminum can showcases Ferda’s sleek label design with the classy moniker T. F. Brewing. The proper glassware is a slam dunk. It is slender yet large enough to fit every drop of goodness. Cracking the can, a liquid surge of bright-copper haze consumes the big drinking vessel. The bubbling froth forming at the top is clean, white and initially thick, protecting the treasure below. First whiffs of this Double IPA present hints of classic West Coast IPA flavors and citrus. Ferda’s mouthfeel is crisp and sharp while delivering a precise display of hops and sweetness. With balance from the tropical hops, the finish presents hints of fresh grass and slight yet welcome bitterness. For a super-hoppy beer, it’s well crafted and hides the alcohol well. This is a beer well-suited to start out the night or to close it down.


T.F. Brewing offers a heavy selection of exceptional lagers, proving that Kevin wants to do what he loves and to love what he’s doing. With a personal affinity for German beer styles, Kevin sought to open a place mimicking the traditional family breweries he is so fond of. We have found many brewers clearly united in their love for a good lager and the amount of care it takes to get them right. Unlike a hoppy beer, there is little to hide behind in a clean German-style beer. Yet, another common sentiment among the brewing community is that the IPA is king, so it makes sense to ensure that one is available as casual patrons pass on through.

Head brewers have admitted that recipes aren’t always dialed in when working with a brand-new system. It could take a few batches to get accustomed. It’s Templin’s dedication to perfection that allowed the first batches of Ferda to shine so early on. We are sure that he is always working to make each beer the best it can be because he has always been a perfectionist in this aspect. Templin Family Brewery is meant to be a place to visit and enjoy the environment, people and beer. Though Kevin once told us the next big thing in beer was “the German pilsner,” he will make sure that his family brewery has something for everyone. If history is on Kevin’s side, Ferda will become a staple offering—much like another popular local Double IPA that Templin had his hand in during his previous gig, Red Rock’s Elephino.


In July 2018, Bianca Velasquez joined SLUG’s ranks as Editorial Assistant. She principally helps to coordinate and organize editorial coverage with a go-getter spirit. Velasquez cherishes representing community members through SLUG’s content and has a knack for storytelling in her own right. With respect to her recent favorite features, she cites those she wrote about Josie Cordova’s To Space, Comrade! video game and Tucker White’s short-story triptych, The Magic Building. This month, Velasquez has penned an interview feature with filmmaker and local Film Fatales leader Diana Whitten (pg. 18), which regards women in the film industry. Velasquez has also been a Volunteer Coordinator for our latest Brewstillery beer-and-spirits event and values SLUG events like Localized. With all of her energy and willingness, we love having Velasquez on Team SLUG!

Shylio Sweat – Front Crook Pop Over – Richfield, Utah. Photo: Weston Colton

I grew up in rural Southern Utah—small towns, hardly any skaters and even fewer skate spots. One of those spots was the Kmart loading dock. We usually got kicked out within five minutes, so we jumped down the dock as many times as we could, as fast we could. Coincidentally, Shylio Sweat, Jerome Farrell and I ended up in Richfield on the same weekend. While showing them my old “spots,” we went to the now-closed Kmart to check out the old loading dock. All the railings had been broken off the dock. With a little creativity, we figured out a new way to skate the spot, and Shylio and Jerome got some good tricks

Shylio Sweat – Front Crook Pop Over – Richfield, Utah. Photo: Weston Colton
Shylio Sweat – Front Crook Pop Over – Richfield, Utah. Photo: Weston Colton
(L–R) Martin Theisen, Sean Dugger, Camron Sherwood and Bobby Doyle have been in the hardcore scene since the ’90s, shredding hearts and eardrums. Photo: Jessica Bundy

December’s installment of SLUG Localized is a perfect way to get your dose of heavy music in. Featuring The Wake of an Arsonist, Hemwick and 2-Headed Whale, these bands will surely bring the heat to a cold winter’s night with sounds ranging from doom to metalcore. Put on your moshing shoes and meet us at Urban Lounge on Dec. 20. SLUG Localized is sponsored by Uinta Brewing, High West Distillery, KRCL 90.9 FM and Spilt Ink SLC.

The Wake of An Arsonist are coming up as one of Salt Lake City’s heaviest and most pulverizing bands this side of the millennium. Consisting of tattooed, bearded guys who’ve been in SLC hardcore since the days of xCLEARx and Cool Your Jets, they have stayed in touch with new remedies just enough to connect with younger blood while still calling back to the days of old. As we tailgated on vocalist Sean Dugger’s truck in the back of Raunch Records, we spent about 60 minutes making wisecracks, slurping down coffee, gushing over our friends’ bands, talking about where to find weed and leaving heartburn medication for Santa instead of cookies, and—at some points—managed to get some words in about their band. Suffice it to say, it was a fun time.

Named as a metaphor for the bridges we burn and the paths that are created as a byproduct, The Wake of an Arsonist started as a doom band with Dugger on drums, Bobby Doyle on guitar, Matt Hardy on vocals and Jason Dunstan on bass. About a year ago, TWOAA went through an incredulous lineup change resulting in Dugger switching his place behind the kit to the microphone. “I’ve been asking to get back on vocals forever,” says Dugger. “It was a neat transition.” With that, the band recruited Camron Sherwood as the drummer and Martin Theisen on bass. Theisen never intended to join TWOAA, but was attending practice sessions for the project Humanity Lost with Doyle, Dugger, Kole Campbell (Deep Romance) and Billy French (Cherem). Eventually, when people stopped showing up to Humanity Lost practices, Doyle and Theisen would start playing TWOAA songs together, which convinced him to join the band. “This is the best lineup of a band I’ve ever been in,” says Theisen. “The chemistry clicks—we get into our spats mostly because these two (Dugger and Doyle) are like two dumb pit bulls barking at each other through a fence.” Doyle adds that he and Dugger will miraculously find a way to argue even when they agree on something.

As new members solidified themselves within of the band, new sounds started to evolve on top of the four existing songs from the previous lineups, adding speed, volume, density and chaos. “We had talked about doing this evolution before, and it worked out perfectly,” says Sherwood. Funneling out the noise and dominant rhythmic forces of sludge metal and adding the in-your-face ferocity of hardcore, the crawling, noisy riffs feel as if they were lifted from early metalcore (think Disembodied or Snapcase) on top of what’s left of the doomy progressions with Hatebreed-style breakdowns—you can begin to fathom the sound that these guys secrete. “Whenever people ask me what kind of music it is, I can’t tell them,” says Theisen. “It’s heavy. It’s one of those things you have to experience, and you’ll just get it.” TWOAA’s sound is not trying to be pretty or pleasant to anyone. It’s ugly, murky and unsettling—it’s a beast that charges, baring its teeth and doesn’t give a fuck about whatever marks it will leave.

TWOAA released their first single, “Grade,” earlier this year, which came out on the Utah Underground Compilation. It is two-and-a-half minutes of what feels like oozing municipal sludge covering and swallowing anything it comes into contact with. They’ve got three more on top of that ready to be released in December. They recorded in the Boar’s Nest with Andy Patterson, and the release is slated to be quite a sonically thick spectacle. “It works perfectly because it’s the older stuff and some newer ideas we’ve been working on,” says Doyle. There’s also one more waiting in the wings, the first song they’ve written as a cohesive unit, which will be released on a potential EP for 2019.

The band’s collective musical output differentiates them from any of the other heavy bands in SLC. “We don’t fit into any genre,” says Dugger. “We’re definitely not a scene band.” However, the suffix “core” is something that comes attached to most heavy bands forming today, including those inspired by subsequent genres like metalcore, hardcore, grindcore or mathcore. “I grew up listening to hardcore and grindcore,” says Doyle. “It makes sense that [our genre] would have a ‘core’ at the end of it.” Being that the band’s genre is so fluid, they can fit on any metal or “insert adjective here”–core bill—and this month’s Localized is no exception.

Dugger says this show features the three different extremes of Salt Lake City’s current exhibition of heavy music—the unfiltered pummeling of TWOAA, the instrumental narratives of Hemwick and the atmospheric drudge of Two-Headed Whale. It’s set in stone that this Localized will combine as TWOAA’s EP release show—they’ve made it a point to get their music out in a setting where they know people will be able to connect with it and be able to take home a piece, so you all best make it a point to get your asses out to Urban Lounge and indulge in these moments with us on Dec. 20 at 8 p.m.

Photo: Zoeë Rodriguez

Lynn Kilpatrick earned her PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Utah, and she teaches at Salt Lake Community College. These micro-essays are part of a longer series, “Postcards from London,” which she wrote after taking students on a Study Abroad class to London where she stayed at a hostel on Cromwell Road in Kensington. Other postcards are about Kew Gardens, The British Library, the British Museum and the Prince Consort National Memorial.  Other essays from this series appeared online in New World Writing. She’s currently working on a collection of micro-essays about Idaho and an unsolved murder called Missing You.

Postcards From London


Cromwell Road

This postcard comes to you from Cromwell Road, where I spent the better part of an hour, aimlessly turning the racks which displayed photographs of Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Kensington Palace, Prince Albert Hall, Victoria and Albert Museum, The National Portrait Gallery. I coveted the over-priced water, fingered the coins in my pocket. I hovered to overhear the clerk’s conversation. I wanted to ask, are you always kind or only to me? I wanted him to choose me from among the tourists as the most sympathetic if not the most beautiful. Once, as I waited for the bus, he saw me outside and raised his eyebrows in greeting. Forgive me, for I fell in love with him, over and over again. He smiled. He asked, how are you? his accent thick with distance. I wanted him to forgive me my sins of coveting and envy. I envied his gaiety, his assumed approach to life that allowed him to enjoy this convenience store of cheap, breakable lives. I asked him, why do you smile? And he told me, I want to go back, but for now, the war is out there, not in here. We have to make our way as we can. He included me in his language, the We that the English constructed to exclude him, but that, as we stood there, included the continent between us, spanned only by his breath.


Roni Horn exhibit, Tate Modern

The photographs of the Thames hang silently, though their footnotes rustle like ancient tongues. Today, my eyes tire of reading and I want the world to be revealed instantaneously and without effort. I walk the stairs, up, and then down, among the families and the loved. I know that, like the Thames, the world is murky and deep, cold and toothless. I thirst, like a child, for comfort, which is found, here and there, in small nooks and dark corners. The repeated face of a girl in photographs reminds me of skins that I have shed, the snake of former selves that reveal the hollowness of who we are, just faces to each other, bottomless depths that do not speak but continuously cover ourselves over in dark water, murmuring truths that others cannot decipher.


On Loneliness

Nowhere is quite so lonely as rush hour on the Tube. People smashed against me, I know not even one person’s name and I can’t smooth someone else’s hair out of my eyes or declare publicly that I am both peckish and knackered. Instead I read and when the train slams to a halt, a nearby man declares that if we are trapped I will have to read the entire book aloud. Oh, London, your seven million inhabitants stride right past me, looking neither here nor there, except, I will grant, that one time I saw someone I recognized. But he was a tourist too. Why do I tell you this? Because I am lonely and you must listen.

Posted in Art.