I had to say goodbye to a dear friend this month: my silver Dodge Grand Caravan. I know it might sound out of character and slightly materialistic— especially for the season—to open up about such a mundane thing as a minivan, but let me tell y’all: that thing hauled some serious ass in the four years I owned it. Not only did it criss-cross the country several times as a member of the Lovey Dovies (and was christened Kate Moss as an ode to one of those tour’s inside jokes), but it hauled literally tons of ANTIGRAVITY issues all over town. Kate Moss was a mobile command center, an office on wheels and a reference studio for albums, demos and rough mixes alike; it was ate in, slept in and once even fucked in, though not by me. All that can take a toll on its transmission (and upholstery) and when Kate’s started to go, it was a bittersweet deal breaker.
I’m not one to care about cars that much. For me, it’s just a thing that’s supposed to get you from A to B safely and comfortably. Anything else is vanity and excessive luxury and the anarchist in me distrusts most forms of petroleum-powered vehicles, anyway. But it was my dream car because it allowed me to do everything that was important in life, from promoting my music throughout the country and making sure this magazine actually came out, to tubing and beach excursions and even quick trips to the levee with the dogs. It was a tool of expression, like a camera or a guitar. We don’t choose these things lightly and it’s even harder to give them up. But it’s done and I will miss that van. It was a great instrument.
Anyways, I’m happy to break in the new ride with December’s issue, which—heads up—is more full of holiday cheer than you can shake a candy cane at. So if Christmas time isn’t your thing, you’re really going to hate it. Isn’t Jeremy Wilson’s cover illustration sick, by the way? As a Jew growing up with Episcopalian grandparents, I was one of the lucky few who got my eight days of presents and Christmas. So as a kid, nativity scenes were just another set of action figures and dolls; maybe that’s why my smurfs ended up in the manger sometimes.
Hopefully under this tree pulp you’ll find some presents you actually like; we had a lot of fun wrapping them up for you. Our new horoscope column is something that’s been on our wishlist for a long time, as well as an opportunity to interview DJ Shadow; we just had to have that. It looks like there’s something for every age this month: Michael Patrick Welch helps us break in the next class of music critics (whose talons are already pretty sharp); he also catches up with Dash Rip Rock, a band approaching their third decade of existence. There’s European tour shenanigans from DJ Musa, adult stocking stuffers from Anton Falcone, munchies from Memaw and even metal lords cradling koalas. It’s a hell of a holiday party; thanks for showing up. Want some punch?
