ryanwwhite
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I saw Motorhead once, a few years ago at the Roseland. I went because it was Motorhead and I’d never seen Motorhead and I wanted to be able to say I’d seen Motorhead. I wanted to hear Lemmy roar. I wanted to lean into mythical volume. It was cold outside, sold out inside. So it was…
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Back in the newsroom days, a fun thing to do was to pass along to an editor any press release referring to The First Annual Anything. “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS FIRST ANNUAL,” the editor would say. Grumbling would ensue. Before it’s too too late, welcome to the first Ryan White & Associates Gift…
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Last night I watched a team give up more than 700 yards of offense and win. The same team that, two weeks ago, rushed for 400 yards and lost. In the Big Ten, where I grew up, if you rush for 400 yards they give you the keys to the conference and a new tractor.…
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A few weeks ago I drove out to Astoria to help my pal Matt Love tape a pilot episode for a radio show about writers and writing. We talked Springsteen and he asked me something along the lines of, “What’s your favorite record? Which record would you take to the desert island?” “Well, those are…
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Forty years ago today, Born to Run was released. Was finally released. Was unleashed. Born to Run changed everything for Bruce Springsteen. It’s full of hopes and dreams and desperate lust for a future somewhere other than here–wherever your particular here might be. It’s a hot summer night. It’s a screen door slamming. It’s a car speeding off…
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Spent an enjoyable afternoon in Nashville a few weeks ago wandering about the Country Music Hall of Fame. Spent an especially nice hour or so checking out Dylan, Cash and the Nashville Cats: A New Music City. Of that hour, a good 15 minutes might have been enjoyed in front of this photo. You know two…
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For who, really, is the sucker? The sucker, or the sucker who buys the suckers?
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I was squatting a food court table at Detroit’s Metro Airport on Wednesday night, keeping careful watch on a coloring book, crayons, a couple of water bottles, some stuffed animals, crumbling snacks and an iPad paused on some shit bit of Barbie brand management. Our flight was delayed, but that had nothing to do with the state of…
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A couple of weeks ago, when I was supposed to be home alone with my feet on the wall, I sneaked out of the house, met up with some pals and enjoyed the hell out of two happy hour sets by Redray Frazier at the Laurelthirst Pub. If you don’t know Redray, you should. Because…
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