>>> Have you noticed? PBR has completely colonized the Market-Frankford line. Every time we see the “PBR art,” though, our thoughts are exactly the same: For all of the positive energy and forward momentum the transplants have given us, they’ve also made the city remind us of Art School Confidential way more than what is tolerable. (What is tolerable, you ask? Maybe once. Ever.) Worse still, imagine the mixed blessing of being a so-called PBR-tist. Do you even bother to tell your parents or put this on resume? And if you do, what does that resume look like? Perhaps we’re just being snobs about this, you say; perhaps any exposure is good exposure; perhaps one day one of these artists will become the Damien Hirst of PBR/bad tattoo art. Well, perhaps you are right. There is, at least, free beer. Silver linings. Every can of Pabst Blue Ribbon contains one, you know.
>>> Open mic with The Homophones. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you sing a Homophones song with them. Make ours this one: