YOU ARE NOW AT A BRIGHT EYES CONCERT
If you have been to a Bright Eyes concert in the last year or so, you surely noticed that the band made it very apparent as to where you were at the time. Behind the band there is a digital message that reads in big upper-case letters: YOU ARE NOW AT A BRIGHT EYES CONCERT.
If you have been to a Bright Eyes concert in the last year or so, you surely noticed that the band made it very apparent as to where you were at the time. Behind the band there is a digital message that reads in big upper-case letters: YOU ARE NOW AT A BRIGHT EYES CONCERT. It is a simple sentence, truth be told. As an identity-seeking linguist, I thought it would be interesting to analyze this sentence for all it’s worth by diagramming its syntactic structures. Trying to make sense of a sentence that has now been seen and consciously or subconsciously processed by thousands of Bright Eyes fans is wonderful fodder for any wintery afternoon.
But first, I must pose a question: Why do you think Bright Eyes has such a display at their live shows? What is the implicature of this message? Of course, taken for its semantic value, it simply states that you are, in fact, now at a Bright Eyes concert. Easy enough. But what about its pragmatic function? Could it imply that, since you are now at a Bright Eyes concert, you should put your phone away and take in the show without posting immediately to social media? Or does it entice the audience to snap more photographs of the stage decoration, posting it online and therefore giving the Bright Eyes namesake that much more visibility on all the social networking platforms? Regardless, it’s a brilliant marketing tactic.
See the image below for a syntactic tree structure of the sentence at hand. We have the sentence as a whole, but within the sentence, there are two noun phrases [“you” and “a Bright Eyes concert”], a verb phrase [“are now at a Bright Eyes concert”], an adverb [“now”], a prepositional phrase [“at a Bright Eyes concert”], a preposition [“at”], and a determiner [“a”]. There is quite a bit going on in this sentence - and in any sentence, really - syntactically.
Language is everywhere. Pause, take a look around, and have a deep think or two about what a string of words has the potential to imply.
Linguistics aside, it was wonderful to see Bright Eyes perform after what had been just over 20 years. They were in top form, played a smattering of songs from their entire catalog, and left us all thinking more profoundly about what “One For You, One For Me” means.
Bright Eyes at Yogibo META VALLEY | Osaka, Japan | December 3, 2025
See Your Heroes on a Tuesday
Seeing Jawbreaker take to the stage and break into “I Love You So Much It’s Killing Us Both,” from the record that broke them was so disorienting that it took 45 seconds for me to figure out what song they were playing, despite knowing it as well as “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
I first heard Jawbreaker on Revolution Radio in the fall of 1995. I was alone in my living room. It was cold. It was dark. It may have been raining. The moment “Fireman,” from their major label debut Dear You, transmitted through the airwaves and onto the three-disc changer AIWA bookshelf audio system, I was instantly hooked. The clashing guitars, the pop of the Rob Cavallo-produced snare drum and the smooth delivery of lyrical poetry grooved a much needed neural network in my brain, one that would soon be treated to an entirely new canon of music. As soon as I discovered Jawbreaker and their then - and even more so now - revered back catalogue, they disappeared - a major record label deal gone sideways and a once welcoming - on the fringes, at least - punk rock community disowning them for abandoning life in the van. Fans were left crushed. Having just discovered the band that could save our generation, and then after coming to terms with the fact that we would never get to see them perform their genius on stage, was disheartening at best. It was akin to discovering The Beatles’ catalogue in 1966, only to shortly after learn they had put the brakes on live performances. In a way, this was worse. At least The Beatles continued to record and release music for another four-plus years. Yes, Jawbreaker were our Beatles - at least in a very underground and imaginative sense.
Blake Schwarzenbach gives Adam Pfhaler (not pictured) a nod
You can imagine that, 30 years after first hearing “Fireman,” finding myself on my way to a small club in Osaka’s Umeda district with a ticket to a Jawbreaker show in my left breast pocket was a tad more than surreal. Seeing Blake Schwarzenbach, Chris Bauermeister, and Adam Pfhaler take to the stage and break into “I Love You So Much It’s Killing Us Both,” from the record that broke them was so disorienting that it took 45 seconds for me to figure out what song they were playing, despite knowing it as well as “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” That neural network was reconfiguring itself in real time, barely able to process what was unfolding five metres in front of me. It wasn’t until five or six songs into the set that my mind settled in and actually began processing what was happening: my heroes playing the melodies and singing the lyrics that carried me through so much of my teenage angst, 20-something coming of age nonsense, 30-something self-rediscovery, and my now mid-40s, reflectively sentimental self. A single tear streamed down my right cheek when Pfhaler perfectly queued the voice sample on “Condition Oakland.” The driving guitars complemented the cruise-control drums all the way to the final breakdown, with all its double snare hits and intermittent rhythmic patterns. This is my condition.
Chris Bauermeister (bass) and Adam Pfhaler (drums) dialing in the rhythm
The remainder of the set was a blurry dream-like euphoria, like the opening and sharing of a bottle of a 1995 Château Cheval Blanc to celebrate a 30th wedding anniversary. I tried my best to take it all in, to be fully encompassed by the noise, and to let the memories of listening to Jawbreaker over the last 30 years simply exist. To finally hear Blake sing “1, 2, 3, 4: Who’s punk what’s the score!?” in the same room, in real-time: his guitar perfectly out of tune, a broken string, a crowd-surfer, a sing along.
Blake Schwarzenbach offers a cheers to the crowd with a freshly cracked near-beer
Listening to Jawbreaker sounds different now and in the best way possible. I can reflect on a memory I once thought impossible, while revisiting late-night drives, mixtapes with “Jink Removing,” and the fantasy of how spectacular it would have been to actually see them play live. Go see your heroes, even if it’s a Tuesday.
Jawbreaker at Club Quattro | Osaka, Japan | December 2, 2025
30 Frames Has November
One photograph a day for 30 days.
A photo-a-day project is nothing spectacularly new and on the surface may seem pretty easy, albeit an inconvenience at worst. Simply press the shutter but once a day, have a decent archiving method, and after a predetermined period of time (in this case 30 days) the project is complete. However, to pose a question in tag form: Nothing is as easy as it seems, is it? Yet with persistence and a daily goal of just getting one slice of life, it is and was very possible.
For this particular project I wanted to challenge myself a little bit more than a simple snap each day, so I set the following guidelines/rules:
1: Portrait framing only.
2: Set the ISO to the ridiculously high level of 51200.
I have always enjoyed pushing a camera to its absolute limits and since my camera does not go any higher than 51200 ISO that was the limit I chose. Honestly it did feel like the camera was dragging itself through the month and I missed a ton of shots due to its slower response to the request I persistently gave it. But I just imagined I had ISO 512000 film in the camera and let it fly - no excuses or questions asked.
Overall it was a challenging and rewarding month of photography. I did tire a bit of only portrait orientation and when I finally lowered my ISO it felt like I had a brand new camera. I am quite happy with most of the photographs and even caught one or two that I would be happy to rediscover years down the line. I would welcome round two of this next year, especially in November when the light softens and leaves begin to change and twirl to the pavement.
Below are a few of my favorites from the month. The entire project can be viewed here.
The Same Route Every Day
The goal of this short set of paragraphs is to explain why carrying a camera every day and letting the scene dictate your path can lead to new discoveries and a childlike sense of wonder.
The goal of this short set of paragraphs is to explain why carrying a camera every day and letting the scene dictate your path can lead to new discoveries and a childlike sense of wonder.
As a creature of habit, and similar to one of the characters in The Weakerthans’ “One Great City!”, I typically follow the exact same route from Hankyu Okamoto Station to Konan University every day. This involves hanging a left out of the station, taking a right by the park, a left after the park, and following the hill up to the campus. I cross paths with the same people and generally nothing really catches my eye as far as a photographable moment is concerned. Although I do occasionally achieve photographic success by way of some interesting shadow or an umbrella approaching me at just the right angle.
The other day as I was about to take a left at my usual hang-a-left location I spotted a Charlie Brown t-shirt (see above). It seemed kind of interesting and I wanted to frame a shot and capture the essence of this not completely rare - but rare enough to warrant a photo - moment. But in order to get the shot I needed to proceed straight instead of left. In a split second decision, I headed straight, quickly adjusted my exposure, framed the shot the best I could, and snapped the shutter. Could I have lived without this shot? Indeed. But it turned out pretty decent and since I was on a new path, I had a chance to explore a neighborhood. I came across this most peculiar Mallard trailer resting atop an apartment building - as if it were placed there by accident, or by the orders of some Hollywood movie director. Or it flew up there as its name would suggest and decided that it would be a great place to land. Stranger things have likely happened. Anyway, I snapped a couple photos and continued on, reflecting in awe of just how odd it was to see this trailer suspended on top of this apartment building.
Moral of this short commuting story: Always keep your metaphorical camera at the ready. Keep the settings dialed to whatever light is happening at the moment. And if you see something, go for it. It may lead to all sorts of new discoveries, randomness, and could possibly even make your day that much brighter. But then again, I wonder what I missed on my normal route that morning? We can never and will never know.