PRODUCTION MANAGER Char Harris PRODUCTION David Caplan, Feedback Graphics
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Technology & Development
I Saw U
Buying Corn at Fred Meyer, Wearing Pussy-Pink Goggles on Light
Is the Monorail good? Are scooters bad? Stranger staffers debate Seattle’s hottest transportation topics!
Natalie Lew Talks Giant Squids, Taking Inspiration from Horror Films, and Collaborating with Ben Gibbard
Bold Type Tickets
CUSTOMER SOLUTIONS MANAGER Kevin Shurtluff
CLIENT SOLUTIONS MANAGER
Diana Schwartz
PROJECT MANAGEMENT
CLIENT & CUSTOMER SOLUTIONS REPRESENTATIVE
Campy Draper
CUSTOMER SOLUTIONS REPRESENTATIVE
Anita Chao
Back in January, we were checking out what new bills had been introduced in the state legislature when I spotted Senate Bill 5067. It proposed lowering the legal alcohol limit in Washington from 0.08% to 0.05% BAC. “Have you guys heard about this?” I hollered into the newsroom. “Oh yeah, they do that every year,” someone shrugged. They were right. There has been a perennial effort in Olympia to make our drunk driving laws stricter. But here at The Stranger, the more we talked about it, the more we realized we really didn’t know what the difference between 0.05 and 0.08% ABV felt like. And thus, an experiment was born.
Eight months later, stocked with booze, breathalyzers, and Mario Kart 64, we turned ourselves into lab (saint) rats and figured it out. Did we all drink more than we expected? Yes. Did we regret doing it on a Thursday? Yes. Did we all agree that the legal limit is too high? Find out on page 21.
Then, in a feat of poor planning, we took on a whole other challenge the next day: riding the light rail for 20 hours straight. Like most good things, it started with an argument in the office. Does Seattle’s light rail have culture? Buskers are rare. Spray
paint is religiously scrubbed. Performers seldom swing from the handrails. Some of us argued that it was sterile, cultureless. Others agreed, but liked it that way. But the rest of us wondered if it was just that our train system is new. You can’t expect a toddler to be cultured—it’s still figuring out who it is.
To find out who was right, five Stranger writers rode the light rail in shifts from 5 a.m. to 1 a.m., a little hungover, a little fighting the urge to just stare into their phones for the whole ride to get it over with, and a lot wondering where that smell was coming from. You can find the Seattle transit culture, in its infancy, on page 12.
This issue wasn’t all practical feats—we also explored our history (and possible future) with water transit and hashed out our transit hot takes—but we hope that this issue does feel lived. Transit isn’t just policy and public projects. It’s the everyday part of getting to every day. It’s how we experience the city, escape the city, and know the city.
See you on the 1.
Hannah Murphy Winter Editor-in-Chief
This Issue Brought to You By….
Amyl and the Sniffers
Green apple cherry Celsius City Market
Typing in awkward positions all over my apartment like I’m Carrie Bradshaw
Breakfast sandwiches
Acupuncture
Air conditioning
Dr. Orna Guralnik and her dog Nico
Season 24 of The Amazing Race
Handmade cut-off T-shirts
Hulk Hogan tapping out
Ozzy Osbourne biting the heads off the bats in hell
Non-consensual eye contact on the light rail
Men who love boats
Liquid lipstick
Fruit cups with Tajín and Chamoy
“About Us” by Brooke Hogan (feat. Paul Wall)
The baby bunnies in Anthony Keo’s backyard
Picking blackberries at the bus stop
Finally making a fruit-fly trap that works
Stress-eating edamame
Erika Evans’ rap at Candidate Survivor
Collective burning hatred for the Blue Angels
DEVO (now more than ever)
The fact that Mark Mothersbaugh is still hot
Becoming a (.03% THC) stoner again
Coming around on Lana Del Rey
Magic Kombucha & its perfect hippie labels & single-image website
Breathalyzing your bandmates for fun
Saigon Deli
Minus 3 tides Xanax
I Saw U…
Buying Corn at Fred Meyer, Wearing Pussy-Pink Goggles on Light Rail, and Yelling at Bikers on Burke-Gilman Trail
ILLUSTRATIONS BY DENNIS CONNORS
Did you recently share a ~*moment*~ with someone while riding the bus, dancing at the club, or standing in line at the supermarket? Do you want to try to reconnect? Submit your own I Saw U at thestranger.com/ isawu, and maybe we’ll include it in the next round-up! Look for a new batch of I Saw U messages every week on thestranger.com.
Mustache 4 mustache
@ Sister Nancy 7/20
I told you you were handsome then bashfully scurried away with my friends. If you’re mustache 4 mustache, I’d love to buy you a drink sometime
Pussypink Goggles on Lightrail ride to Pride
Me, Poly Bonnie & Clyde style 50s dressed to impress; You, Safety First, 1 Wheel 1 eyebrow pierced. Bump more than fists?
Croissant Air Freshener
You asked me to check your tire pressure at King and Alaskan Way; the light changed too soon. I wanna know about your croissant air freshener, please.
Menopausal Bike Karen
To woman in the black and pink bike kit who yelled at me getting on the Gilman on Sunday near the Fremont market - get fucked. U were in the wrong.
Cutie with the corn!
To the cute guy who had a basket full of corn at Fred Meyer on Friday. We kept bumping into each other. Wish I had said something!
You’re Kung Fu Is Better Than Mine
I keep running into you at the climbing gym; I just want to say I’m sorry for yakking in your apartment on our first (and only) date. Lets try again?
Scorpio TwinFlame run in!
Serendipitous meetup w/ biking Scorpio queen going to Cap Hill 7/2/25 - 9p, tried to trade instas but I guess I got it wrong, wanna grab some drinks?
Pool table cue-tie
Saw you at Hillside late on a Sunday night.
You called me beautiful but I was coming off a bad day, teach me to play sometime? Your smile was killer.
Curly Hair Cutie @ Bouldering Project Poplar
I keep running into you at the climbing gym; I just want to say I’m sorry for yakking in your apartment on our first (and only) date. Lets try again?
During the Dare at CHBP
You approached me during the Dare’s set at CHBP and asked if I was a fan. You were wearing a mariners jersey. Your friends also seemed cool.
Shakespeare in the Park
You were handing out programs and you complimented my rings. Give me your hand if we be friends?
Heads Up
I saw you giving head to some guy in the bathroom at Neumos. We made eye contact as I opened the door. You winked. My turn next time?
Break in, meet cute
We met when I accidentally tried to break into your car. If you see this, send the Sentry video pls.
firemen with beautiful smile outside Wildrose
Outside of Wildrisd 7/6 around 2am you were driving Fire ambulance and I waved at you and you smiled bright
Wallingford QFC in 3D
You: guy with striped shirt that was meant for 3D glasses. Me: girl with tie dye shirt + bangs. You complimented me, I you. Do it again over a drink?
arsenal fan at storm pride night you: wearing an emily fox arsenal jersey at the storm pride game on 6/27 me: a massive storm and awfc fan. let’s be friends? ■
Is it a match? Follow The Stranger on Instagram and leave a comment on our weekly I Saw U posts to connect!
LAST MONTH THIS MONTH
All the Hot Rats, Creepy Cards, and Dead Reality TV Dads You May Have Missed in July
Last Month This Month is a recap of all the previous month’s news, featuring headlines from Slog AM. Find it in every issue of The Stranger!
July’s headlines were filled with death—135 people (including dozens of children) died in Texas flooding, Ozzy “Prince of Darkness” Osbourne passed away just weeks after Black Sabbath’s farewell concert, as if he knew when his time would come, and racist wrestling legend Hulk Hogan did a running leg drop into the afterworld. Here’s what else happened.
* * *
Those headlines weren’t a fever dream. Florida really did build a concentration camp in the fucking Everglades . When Trump visited the site in early July, he said, “This is what you need. A lot of bodyguards and a lot of cops in the form of alligators.” We did not make that quote up.
* * *
Bryan Kohberger, the most obvious murderer since O.J. Si…uh, Lee Harvey Oswald, pleaded guilty to murdering four University of Idaho students. The deal saved him from the death penalty. Capital punishment is disgusting, and we don’t find breathless murder coverage entertaining, but watching the evidence pile up against Kohberger was something else.
* * *
Did you hear about the guy using pizza orders to track Pentagon activity? It’s called the Pentagon Pizza Report, and he really did find that more pizza orders equal impending military action . The other thing that’s getting tracked at the Pentagon? Genitals! Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth wants to make sure everyone’s using the right potty. But no homo. Or hetero, for that matter. It’s not sexual. AT ALL!
* * *
You know what else isn’t sexual? Beautiful buxom birthday cards to your creepy bestie you have “certain things in common” with, in hopes that every day will be “another wonderful secret.” President Donald Trump denies ever having drawn a picture. He is in fact a compulsive doodler, pairing nicely with Jeffrey Epstein, a compulsive diddler.
* * *
In no particular order, an abridged list of
Epstein news: The FBI has the complete Epstein video, US Attorney General Pam Bondi says Trump’s name is in the files, Trump keeps telling reporters his name was “planted,” Trump says Epstein ended their fiend-ship when he “stole” Mar-a-Lago’s spa employee Virginia Giuffre from him, Epstein’s accomplice Ghislaine Maxwell wants Trump to pardon her. He just might.
* * *
Speaking of assholes seeking Trump pardons for sex crimes, the Diddy trial came to a conclusion, and though he was found not guilty of some of the bigger charges, including sex trafficking and racketeering conspiracy, he was convicted of transporting people for prostitution and faces up to 20 years in prison. He’ll be sentenced in October.
* * *
* * *
Between Paramount deciding to axe Stephen Colbert’s Late Show and Congress decimating funding for public radio and broadcasting, it’s been a bad month for media At least we have South Park? This is what #democracy looks like.
* * *
Chris Martin of Coldplay exposed a CEO’s affair with his head of HR on a Jumbotron. Canoodling is not a crime, but the internet skewering still followed. Now stadiums across the country are doing “Coldplay Cams.” Thanks for the latest in surveillance culture, cheaters!
* * *
Paul Dans, a chief architect of the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025, is challenging the Republican party’s most eligible bachelor: Sen. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina. Dans, who looks like Mark Cuban, if something bad happened formally announced his campaign in Charleston at the end of July.
* * *
We are a dog city—a dog county, really. So it’s no surprise Sound Transit’s board green lit policy to let leashed pooches on light rail trains. The new dog decree was born out of the freshly minted Marymoor Village Station, which is close to the 40-acre off-leash area in Marymoor Park. “It’s time for walkies,” Sound Transit board Chair Dave Somers really said. We hate that he said that.
Florida police arrested a man for credit card fraud while he was at his job. Unfortunately, his job was dressing up as a big gray mouse. You may know him. “Chuck E., come with me,” said the cops as they entered a Tallahassee Chuck E. Cheese. You can’t trust anyone these days. Not even Chuck.
* * *
THING, the music festival, cancelled its upcoming showcase for Latino and Spanish-language artists due to concerns about Immigrations and Customs Enforcement. THING says ticket sales dipped over community safety concerns, and they were uncertain which artists could secure visas. They’re not alone. The Duwamish River and Pacific Northwest Folklórico Festi vals were also cancelled over ICE concerns.
* * *
Big Dumper, or to the uninformed, Cal Raleigh , or to the really uninformed, the Mariners’ catcher, or to the extraordinarily uninformed, the guy who stands behind the batter in TMobile Park, dumped loads of home runs on the people of Atlanta during this year’s Major League Baseball Home Run Derby. He’s also caked. This preemi nence has garnered Mr. Dumper a big juicy ad deal with Honey Bucket. He’s the face and ass of the porta potty company. A perfect plastic throne for His Dumpness and his thick backside.
BY THE STRANGER’S SLOG AM™ SPECIALISTS
Juarez in her old City Council seat for the next 16 months . For transplants and the forgetful, Juarez was the first Indigenous councilmember. While charmingly foulmouthed and on the unpredictable side, Juarez fits right into the current conservative brat pack. Welcome back?
* * *
Ferg Down! Washington voters think Governor Bob Ferguson sucks. According to a Cascade PBS/Elway poll, his approval rating at the six-month mark is the lowest for a Washington governor since 1993 . The middling centrist politics are not working, dorkass! Trying to please everyone pleases no one.
* * *
After an 8.8-magnitude earthquake rocked Eastern Russia, tsunami alerts inundated Pacific Coast cities At the time of this writing, no giant waves have plowed into any coastlines.
* * *
We’re sorry to report that they’re making a Project Hail Mary movie. Normally, we give a book at least 45 pages. But we stopped on page 4, around the fourth paragraph about the narrator pulling a space tube out of his ass . But now we get to see Ryan Gosling do that. And you thought Pride was over!
* * *
The City’s “abatement plan” for the gay nude beach Denny Blaine Park has threaded the needle in a way only Seattle can: listening for years and disappointing everyone in the end. They want to divide the park into a naked and clothed area, which isn’t enough for the never-nude neighbors and cuts back on park space for the always-nude parkgoers. A (more spacious) naked DMZ was floated by the city once before, but beachgoers rejected it as a concession they didn’t have to make. After all, public nudity is legal in Seattle. Let the people hang lips and dong, damn it.
* * *
Seattle City Council appointed Debora Juarez to replace Cathy Moore, after she left her spot on the dais on July 7, placing
* * *
Hot Rat Summer lives to see another sweaty day. The unsanctioned saintly rodent mosaic in Cal Anderson Park will be allowed to exist—nay, flourish—in our gay little park forever. Councilmembers Alexis Mercedes Rinck and Joy Hollingsworth pinky promised. Go forth and make more weird, beautiful animal art.
* * *
The Pacific Science Center announced that its huge mechanical dinosaurs will lose their jobs after Labor Day . They are being replaced. Not by AI. Even worse. By spiders. ■
MEGAN SELING
DANIELA DUNCAN/GETTY IMAGES RICHARD
IMAGES
MARLEEN MOISE/GETTY IMAGES
Alligator Cops Are Bastards Cake.
Why Aren’t We Using All of Our Waterways to Move People?
Local optimists want more passenger ferries. Is it anything other than a beautiful pipe dream?
BY NATHALIE GRAHAM
We are so moist and soggy in this area. Majestic Puget Sound, glorious Elliott Bay, all those big, juicy lakes, and the super fun(d) Duwamish River. It’s a lot of water and shoreline—1,600 miles in Seattle and on Puget Sound—and it’s just sitting there.
Why not plop a few boats down and call it a passenger ferry system? New York did it.
Unlike New York, we’re already ferryphiles. For the past 15 years, we’ve had a few walk-on passenger-only ferries. And our car-ferry system is the largest in the US, with 21 vessels and 10 routes. It carried 19.1 million passengers last year alone (about two-thirds of light-rail ridership) despite the ferries sucking rocks lately. Thanks, aging fleet and pandemic-era chaos.
Imagine catching a ferry from downtown Seattle to Tacoma and being blinded by sea spray instead of brake lights on I-5. Or crisscrossing Lake Washington on a boat, without dealing with the traffic on a floating bridge.
This imagined future is our past. Between the 1880s and 1920s, a slipshod armada of steamships known as the Mosquito Fleet zipped people across the region’s waterways. There were no cars, no bridges, and few roads. Estimates of the Mosquito Fleet’s size vary from 700 to 2,500 ships. There were more than 300 regular stops, but the boats tended to pick up and drop off people anywhere. Boats were our primary peoplemover for decades, but the mass production of cars squashed the fleet.
But there’s buzz from local wonks, ferry enthusiasts, and politicians who believe we can revive the dream of the Mosquito Fleet. Studies show new ferry routes could better connect the region, cut commutes, and add resiliency to the existing transportation network if emergencies shut down other options.
It’d take a lot to make that dream a reality.
Tim Eyman Hates Your Ferry Route Despite the Seattle area’s wet roots and
Mosquito Fleet past, we only just reintroduced passenger ferries.
The Puget Sound region has five publicly run, passenger ferry routes. King County started running the Water Taxi in 2009. In 2017, Kitsap Transit added routes to downtown Seattle from Kingston, Bremerton, and Southworth.
Starting in 1989, Washington State Ferries (WSF) had passenger ferries between West Seattle and Bremerton, and Seattle and Vashon Island. Then 1999 happened.
In that fateful year, 113 Bremerton residents sued the state, alleging the ferry’s wake damaged the shoreline along Bremerton’s narrow Rich Passage. The plaintiffs won in 2002. The state coughed up $4.5 million in damages and slowed down the passenger ferry so much that it eliminated its appeal. Ridership plummeted.
In that same terrible year, voters approved Initiative 695, lowering vehicle excise taxes to $30, thus decimating transportation funding and unleashing the hydra that is
anti-tax activist Tim Eyman and his fixation on those darn car tabs.
Josh Brown, executive director of the Puget Sound Regional Council, says that initiative all but sank the financial resources for state-run passenger ferries. The state stayed in its car ferry lane. They’re considered an extension of the state highway system, so funds are available.
Eventually, local jurisdictions took control. King County created its own ferry district and passed a property tax to fund the Water Taxi. After Kitsap Transit lobbied the state to put ferry funding on the ballot, voters approved a proposed sales tax increase.
What Happened in Kitsap Passing that ballot measure in 2016 took work, says Steve Sego, a developer and member of the coalition Friends of the Fast Ferry who lobbied to pass it.
Sego grew up in Kitsap County and has fond memories of hearing the ferry’s foghorn as it sailed through Rich Passage near his
childhood home. He returned to the region after 35 years and expected to find an extensive ferry network.
“It was not only not improving, it was going backwards in service,” Sego says.
Thanks, in part, to Sego, WSF had the Kitsap Fast Ferry to fill service gaps postCOVID. Washington even funded increased trips along the Bremerton route.
However, with WSF service rebounding, the fast ferry Saturday service to Bremerton is on the chopping block, which is wild because people fucking love it. Last year, all that backfilling boosted the route’s ridership numbers 68 percent over what they were two years earlier. Sego says thousands of people have told him the Kitsap routes have improved their lives. Passenger ferries travel twice the speed of car ferries. They also deemphasize car travel, which certainly doesn’t hurt the atmosphere. And they connect car-less passengers with trains and buses.
“It’s not just an economic benefit and practical benefit, but it’s a lifestyle and quality of life benefit as well,” Sego says. “The rest of the Puget Sound benefits from having those options.”
New Routes, Same Shit Setting up new routes should be easy. Look at New York City. In the 1900s, the city had and lost a passenger ferry network. And in 2017, Mayor Bill de Blasio established a new five-borough ferry system.
“We do have communities exploring expanded routes today,” Brown says. In 2021, he and his team at Puget Sound Regional Council released their recommendations for new passenger ferry routes, which they based on potential demand, time saved on commutes, and connections to other transit.
They suggested a route from downtown Seattle to Tacoma, Lake Washington routes connecting Kenmore, Kirkland, and Renton to the University of Washington, and another between Renton and South Lake Union, all of which would save commute time compared to existing transit options. But the routes face two big barriers, Brown says. Money and space.
A new transportation system would cost serious bucks, and we never have enough for transit in this state. That constant problem makes legislators pause when considering new passenger ferries.
King County Councilmember Claudia Balducci certainly sees the benefits of the water taxis from Seattle to West Seattle and Seattle to Vashon Island; they’re not only popular, but connect the region. But Balducci thinks people get “very excited” about the open water, maybe too much. She doesn’t think those ferry routes make sense when we could invest in buses and trains, which are effective, efficient, and move more people. Ferries, Balducci says, can look like tourism rather than transit.
“It’s not what we should be using our
The proposed Tacoma-Seattle route would be 15 minutes faster than the bus.
precious transit dollars for,” she says. “Nothing against boats. I love boats.”
New York’s new ferry system is kept afloat by big, fat city subsidies that cost taxpayers “nearly a quarter-billion more than officials reported” in a game of hide the numbers, according to amNY. Ferry ridership reached record highs this year, but it is still less than 1 percent of the ridership on NYC’s subways. According to a study from the Puget Sound Regional Council, the route from Seattle to Tacoma would only carry 73,300 passengers a year. The suburban routes on the high end of PSRC’s estimates—UW to Kenmore and UW to Kirkland—would serve around 300,000 people annually. That’s not much.
A Dock? My Kingdom for a Dock
Kitsap Transit Executive Director John Clauson is in the middle of a protracted bid for a dedicated Seattle terminal for the agency’s passenger ferries. Right now, Kitsap Transit shares a downtown dock with the King County Water Taxi that’s only big enough for two vessels. Kitsap has three routes and King County has two, and because it’s Seattle’s dock, Seattle gets priority, Clauson says. Jockeying for a dock is hard, and a Google calendar won’t fix it
But even finding a space for this terminal is a nightmare. The three potential spaces
are owned by different entities: the Port of Seattle, the City of Seattle, and the state. Clauson’s job exemplifies the real problem with the Mosquito Dream—land ownership. The shoreline is a patchwork of deeds and titles. Consider the hypothetical route to South Lake Union. Do you work out a deal with the Museum of History and Industry, which owns a chunk of dock space, or with that houseboat neighborhood, or maybe the float plane company?
The issue with the Lake Washington routes isn’t the dock space in suburbs like Kenmore or Renton, but near UW. A dock could interrupt recreational boating near the Montlake Cut and impede UW’s rowing team. Would the boys in the boat really allow a ferry to interrupt their training path? Would George Clooney? Anyone serious about building that route would need to find out.
“You kind of look at the just the analysis, and you realize, ‘Wow, this may be a tougher ask of the public than what I was accounting for,’” Brown says.
Sego, ever the optimist, believes the dock challenges are surmountable. He noted that New York’s ferry system has smaller docks and boats with variable loading mechanisms. “It’s really efficient,” Sego says. “You don’t have to overthink this.” ■
20 HOURS ON THE
Walk onto the New York subway, the L in Chicago, or the BART in San Francisco, and the vibrancy of the city comes past the turnstile. Sometimes it’s in the form of a dancer’s boot missing your chin by scarcely an inch, or eight young music lovers who have yet to discover the magic of headphones and the concept of courtesy. Life follows. That’s because it’s where the people are.
Our little 1 Line is somewhat static, sterile, a bit too clean by comparison, and devoid of connections to other train lines that would make it feel like the vasculature of the city. The 1 Line can feel, at times, distinct from the rhythm of the city. A carnival ride sawing back and forth.
To be fair, the 1 Line has only been around since 2009, its spine lengthening year by year. Everything north of Northgate came last year. The middle part—Northgate to University District—opened in 2021. It’s a baby.
With promises of three more stops down south later this year and a—knock on wood— floating connection to the 2 Line on the Eastside, we’ll have an actual, regional system. It’s growing up. And at the same time, hopefully, finding its own culture.
We decided to find out if that was true. A team of willing, somewhat hungover (see p. 21), Stranger writers set out to experience as much of the light rail as humanly possible. Sound Transit begins service at 5 a.m. and cuts it at 1 a.m. the next morning. So we couldn’t spend a whole day on the train, but we got close. Five of us rode the line in fourhour shifts, getting light-railed for a total of 20 hours.
Through it all, we talked to the people who would talk to us, eavesdropped, and enjoyed people watching, life’s greatest pleasure. We found life on the light rail. It’s just a bit hushed, and chilly. A public transit culture in its infancy.
“The City Wakes Up.” Nathalie Graham. 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. I feel like shit. The moon is still up, and my astigmatism is going crazy. I watch Cal Anderson rats scurry away as I reach the station.
Boarding train at Capitol Hill Station: 5 a.m.
Wow, it really came right at 5 a.m., I think. There are maybe 12 people on the train when I first get on. All quiet. I see a man wearing a star-covered hat carrying a poster, but I can’t see what’s written on it. A man with a green blanket gets on at Pioneer Square. People stare. He puts the blanket over his head and lies down.
It’s so bright in here. I see the first snatch of daylight through the window as we go
from International District/Chinatown Station to Stadium. The moon is still up. It’s full. I can see it as we climb to Beacon Hill. Should I tell the people across from me to turn around? I don’t.
Someone gets on smelling of spicy food. I ask the man with luggage and a dog where he’s going. His name is Ron. “To the airport,” Ron says. Obviously. But where? Family in Detroit. The dog, Jasper, keeps barking at
homeless people, embarrassing Ron. “I don’t know why he does it,” Ron says. He’s moved from the train’s middle to mitigate barking incidents.
At this hour, the train is truly an airport shuttle. All the airport workers get on at Tukwila. They sit, poised on the edges of their seats. Their hair is done, their makeup fresh. They are alert in ways I cannot comprehend. Taking the light rail to the
airport and not getting off is interesting: It’s a relief that I don’t have to go through the rigamarole of travel, but it’s tinged with envy of the excitement ahead of people. The sun is rising. Mount Rainier is bathed in soft blues and pinks as we lurch toward Tukwila. It always takes so long to get to Tukwila.
There’s a mass exodus at SeaTac—just me and someone sleeping now. He is two rows
We went looking for the culture of Seattle’s Light Rail. We found one that’s full of earnest local regulars, oppressive silence, and a Black Parade.
BY JULIANNE BELL, NATHALIE GRAHAM, VIVIAN MCCALL, CHARLES MUDEDE, AND AUDREY VANN
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY ERIC HANSON
behind me and bent over a bag. I wonder if he meant to go to the airport and missed his stop, or if he has nowhere to go.
“Good luck with your morning,” Ron says as he and Jasper leave.
Northbound train: 5:49 a.m.
I’m in the second car from the back. My hangover is moving into a sort of nausea phase.
Green Blanket Guy is in my car again. He
finds a row at the opposite end of the train and plunks down to nap again. He disappears from sight.
The only real conversation I’ve heard so far is in another language. Two women from Eritrea, speaking Tigrinya, one wearing a yellow headscarf, both wearing colorful skirts. They’ve been here 20 years, they tell me, and they’re headed to work in the University District.
No one else speaks. No one is moving. Everyone is head down into their phone. The only people doing anything different are the homeless people—other passengers stare and raise their eyebrows at them.
The girl in front of me scrolls YouTube Shorts. A woman who looks like Mikey Madison wears pink headphones and writes something, rehearsing it, marking it with a pen.
Someone in scrubs who works for Seattle
Children’s—maybe a doctor or a nurse— pulls out headphones from a snap case and starts brushing her hair. Everything she needs is in that bag. She brushes her hair for many stops.
A man gets on with a cookie cake. I can’t tell what it says. He looks unhappy.
First furry sighting: 6:45 a.m. Their yellow-green tail is poking out on the seat. It is worse for wear. They’re wearing a collar with a hot pink star tag. If only I hadn’t lost my glasses, I could see what it says.
End of the line. Security comes on at Lynnwood, a big portly guy. He yells, “TIME TO GET UP” and then “GET OFF.” It is just me, the man bent over on his backpack who was with me at the airport, and the sleeping man with the green blanket. I scurry out and hop on the next train, hoping my sleeping companions will join me. They don’t.
Southbound train: 7:08 a.m.
I sit next to a married couple going to the airport—“Want water?” The husband asks the wife. Both of them wear the same white
The moon is still up. It’s full. I can see it as we climb to Beacon Hill.
tennis shoes. “Did you get yours updated to TSA Pre?”
At 7:23 a.m. at Northgate South, the train feels full for the first time all morning. People are now sitting next to strangers. Still, the quiet is wearing me down. The train is full and no one is speaking.
A man sits next to me wearing a bracelet that says VIP 13. He reeks of body odor. I am not grateful for this change. It is, however, the first time I’ve smelled anything besides the nothingness of the train in hours.
At 8:05 a.m., the mountain is mostly white and blue.
The trees. We are always in the trees. At least the silence makes sense in the trees. Northbound train: 8:20 a.m.
A youngish man named AZ gets on the train. He looks tired. His pants keep falling down. They are dirty. So are his hands. He pulled his wagon of stuff onto the train. He uses a strap to secure the wagon to a pole. The wagon is piled with papers, boxes, detritus. I am sure it is important to AZ. He pulls a package of deli turkey from the wagon.
“Where are you headed?” I ask.
“I’m tired, so I’m just trying to sleep,” he says.
I explain who I am, what I am doing.
“You’re a journalist. I bet you’re good at it,” he mumbles.
I think about this morning. About the way I could not coax much out of anyone. I’m not so sure these few hours where I fell prey to the antisocial quiet of the train was good journalism. “Eh, I don’t know about that,” I reply. A beat. “Do you ride the train often to sleep?”
AZ doesn’t answer. He flops over, either asleep or incapacitated. The package of turkey stays unopened and uneaten, precariously pinched between AZ’s face and fingers. Each turn of the train inches the meat further from the tenuous wedge. It doesn’t fall.
His leashed wagon sways in the bike area with each turn. During a big bend, the wagon swings around the pole and blocks one of the doors.
People on the train just watch. The turkey falls.
A man wearing Michigan State Spartans gear says “hi” as I walk past. He starts whistling. “Is this baseball?” his wife asks as we pass T-Mobile Park. Yes, it is, I want to say. The three hours of silence on this train muzzle me.
A couple enters at SeaTac. She’s pregnant. “Just made it.” “That was hard.” I spot socks with sandals—definitely from here. They both pull out books. Hers is Lolita
By 8:48 a.m., the world and the train are waking. Even just the sounds of fidgeting are louder than they were earlier. I can actually feel the city coming alive.
“The Regulars.”
Audrey Vann. 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.
I step on at the Pioneer Square Station, where all the escalators are working and the waiting area actually has trash cans. I walk into the last train car headed south, and am greeted with the aroma of warm dish soap. There are about 15 people in my car; all are on their phones.
My phone, with its alluring crossword puzzles, audiobooks, and Candy Crush, is burning a hole in my pocket. By the time we leave SeaTac, I am the only one left in the car.
Northbound train: 10 a.m.
discuss how it will be in the 90s next week.
“Do you know the downtown ambassadors?” she asks. I nod. “They are really nice—I am friends with some of them. Sometimes they are a little too nice. There is this one guy who I had to put in his place.”
She blushes.
I perk up. “What happened with him?”
“Well,” Jen says in a hushed tone, “We are friends and we get lunch together sometimes. He’s bought me a few hamburgers— he’s a real gentleman. He knows I’m engaged, but once said, ‘If you were single, I’d be with you in an instant.’ I can never tell my fiancé because he would get mad. That’s the last thing I need.”
Jen doesn’t work and has been on disability her entire life, so she rides the train to pass the time. “I’m not a TV person, and there is only so much housework I can do.”
She meets her fiancé at work every day. He gets off at 1 p.m., but when she got off, it was barely 11. I assume that she is arriving early in the hopes that she’ll run into the ambassador. She blushes each time she talks about him.
deeper into my seat, afraid of what he’ll say next. “The fact that there are no restrooms at train stations.” I sigh with relief. “A lot of people piss and defecate in elevators because there is nowhere else to go.” I nod and flash a look of concern. “Why are they punishing
It’s hard to eavesdrop over the constant gurgling sound, like being in the belly of a whale. It feels like it, too.
everyone for the bad behavior of a few people?” he asks. The train stops. Luckily, it was his stop.
Lynnwood, Southbound: 11 a.m.
Two silver-haired women who walk on at Lynnwood are riding the train to the Symphony shop so they can go to the art museum. They put on their glasses to show
several fare ambassadors get on to check our tickets. They depart at Tukwila, reminding me of something James claimed earlier— that fare ambassadors only check tickets at the Angle Lake and Lynnwood.
A couple and their teenage sons drag on their luggage at SeaTac. They seem annoyed with the busy train—they can’t take up 10 seats with their suitcases. The mother tells her younger son to stand, and he complains until she gives him the seat three stops later. This makes me think that I never want children.
As I approach Pioneer Square and the end of my shift, I make the last-minute decision to get off at Westlake instead. There is a fancy candle at Nordstrom. I want it. I also hope that if I get off there, I might see Jen eating burgers with the ambassador. Alas, I do not.
“Luggage People” Charles Mudede. 1 p.m. to 5 p.m.
I enter the southbound train at the Capitol Hill Station with treats from M2M Mart’s hot deli—a variety of compact musubi. Capitol Hill Station is my favorite on the line. It’s the one that’s most urban and colorful. Westlake is where most of the luggage riders exit. The University of Washington Station is the best architecturally. U District Station has the best art, by Lead Pencil Studio.
I switch trains at Angle Lake and sit across from a woman I will call “Jen.” Jen is in a vibrant primary blue maxi dress and matching velvet scrunchie, with curly, bright red hair piled on her head in a sassy ponytail. Almost immediately, Jen tells me she’s on her way to the Westlake stop to meet her fiancé, who works at a hotel. “It’s a really nice one,” she says. “He’s met the presidents before.” I wonder what she means by “the presidents,” but I don’t ask for clarification. I don’t want to embarrass her.
“My fiancé is [whispers and hides her mouth behind her hand] Black.” It’s their four-year anniversary today. To celebrate, they’re having dinner at Applebee’s. “I wanted to wear a nice dress today, but I only have two nice dresses,” she says. “I chose this blue dress because it’s lightweight.” We
A man who I’ll call “James” overheard our conversation and asks if I’m doing a survey. I explain that I work for a newspaper and am spending four hours on the light rail. “You should write about the trains in Hawaii,” he says as if he’s been waiting years for someone like me. “Where I am from in Hawaii, the train stations are far from the city, and no buses connect to them. You’d literally have to drive to the station to take the train. It’s ridiculous.”
The loud hum of the train nearly drowns out James. He tells me about his nonprofit job providing job counseling to Asian, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander communities. “I hate to say it,” he admits, “but there is so much waste.” He goes on to tell me that many of his clients aren’t fluent in English. “How can they expect to get a job if they can’t even speak English?”
I bristle at his comment. I think James notices and changes the subject. “You know what really ought to be illegal?” he asks. I sink
each other vacation photos on their phones. They zoom in on a photo of a seal.
It’s hard to eavesdrop over the constant gurgling sound, like being in the belly of a whale. It feels like it, too. The air is humid and warm.
Between Capitol Hill and SoDo: noon
A woman with light green hair and dark black eyeliner enters the train. A young woman with brown hair seated next to me taps on her (I presume) boyfriend’s shoulder. “Oh my god, it’s her!” she says, pointing. The women lock eyes. I piece together that they met at a clothing store that day and had complimented each other’s outfits. The green-haired woman says she’s Iris; the seated woman introduces herself as Dahlia. “NO WAY! Both flower names!” Iris says. “Girl,” coos Dahlia, “our meeting was destined to happen!” Iris sits next to Dahlia and they exchange social media accounts. Thirty minutes before my shift is up, the train is rocking me to sleep. At Angle Lake,
I board the train at 1:04 p.m. My car, the penultimate car, is one-third full, with a good number of luggage riders who did not join the mass exodus at Westlake. (I rarely see the luggage riders at the Capitol Hill Station.)
There are two types of trains on the 1 Line. Old ones, and newish ones. Old ones were designed by the German company Siemens Mobility. The new ones, introduced in 2021, are by the Japanese company Kinkisharyo. I’m on a train designed by the Japanese company, and it also has the new seats.
The air conditioner is not running or is too weak. It’s already around 80 outside. On Metro buses, you can always feel a bus’s air conditioner. Link trains are always so-so.
“I just arrived from New York,” a young man tells me as we head to U District Station. I ask the man, who is 23, what he is doing in Seattle and where he is going. “To Kingston. My friend has a cabin there. He went to college in Denver with my girlfriend. They are at the cabin with other friends. I’m supposed to get off at Mountlake Terrace and catch an Uber to Edmonds, and jump on the ferry from there.”
He also tells me he is from Brooklyn and will be in the Seattle area for a week. It’s his second time here. He likes the weather.
The train is now between Northgate and Mountlake Terrace Stations. We are flying above I-5, where southbound traffic is stuck.
The train arrives at Mountlake Terrace Station. He exits. But the train has more riders than it had when it left Capitol Hill
Art Credit: Periko the Artist
Station. It’s also diverse. Every race imaginable is in here. Indeed, our suburbs are often more diverse than our inner-city neighborhoods.
I eat my first snack—Spam and egg musubi.
Southbound train: 2:04 p.m.
I’m in the last car of an older train. The air is warm. The train is rushing along. Again, the car is one-third full.
Everyone, however, is on their phones. I mean everyone . No one cares about the beauty of the deep-green trees, the Olympic Mountains, or other people.
I ask a woman who entered at Shoreline South—30-ish, dressed for summer—where she is heading. She is going to do groceries at the Whole Foods at Roosevelt. She usually does this in a car, but her car is in the garage. She plans to pick up a few things, take them home, and prepare a meal for her and her roommate. I ask why she is not on her phone like everyone else. She laughs and says, “You began asking me questions before I could get my phone out.”
Luggage people enter at Westlake. These riders never put their luggage under their seats.
Northbound train: 3:20 p.m.
I’m heading north again. The train is an old one and almost empty. Somewhere around the Tukwila Station, I must make a decision: talk to two men in ready-to-bikein-nature gear or a youngish man reading a book. I pick the reader. He has reddish hair and wears short, very tight pants. “What’re you reading?” I ask. He shows me the book’s cover. It’s a novel by a writer whose name has never entered my world: Robin Hobb. The novel: Assassin’s Quest. “Is it any good?” I ask. He raises his shoulder in a way that indicates I may not get it. He can already sense I’m a literary snob. My voice couldn’t hide it. “It’s fantasy. It’s the third novel in a trilogy. I like it.” Maybe I should have talked to the nature cyclists, who left the train at Columbia City. At Beacon Hill Station, a woman enters with her dog, which clearly doesn’t want to be on the train. Dogs prefer cars with open windows. The hound’s eyes are filled with fear. They quiver. And every time the doors open, they want out. But their human companion only exited the train at Capitol Hill Station.
I eat my second snack—shrimp musubi. U District Station, 4:41 pm
“Can I tell you, I don’t agree with you all the time, but I really like your writing,” a woman wearing jeans tells me. I asked if I could ask her a few questions shortly after she entered the train, a new one, at the U District Station. She said she knew who I was. She laughed. She had read my stuff forever. She recalls something I wrote 12 years ago. It was her favorite thing. But what did she do? “I’m in tech,” she says. “What do you do in tech?” I press. She is a coder. “The real stuff,” I say. “Yes, the real stuff,” she says.
“The Black Parade.” Julianne Bell. 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. On the Capitol Hill light rail platform, the Black Parade is in full swing. These people are clearly dressed for My Chemical Romance, who are is playing at T-Mobile Park: funeral black outfits, Manic Panic hair, red striped sweaters and red plaid, fishnets, lace-up boots, Converse, and clear bags. The
general vibe is best described as “Hot Topic store managers meeting.”
Capitol Hill, southbound train: 5:18 p.m.
A man in a T-shirt, shorts, and baseball cap named Sean sits next to me in the rear of the car. He’s meeting his wife before they take the water taxi to visit his aunt in West Seattle.
He’s a transportation consultant who doesn’t ride the light rail often. He bikes and wishes the city would spend more money on pedestrian bike connections Chinatown/International District
heading to My Chemical Romance, chat and snap pictures of each other. A straight elder emo couple with matching Doc Martens and clear plastic concert bags sit together silently.
I approach Ciara and Jason, friends talking to two older women from Nebraska who were stopping at Pike Place Market before an Alaskan cruise.
Ciara is a 28-year-old wedding photographer from Portland with shimmery eye shadow and lashes coated in mascara. She is also seeing My Chemical Romance, a
A middle-aged woman named Carol sits next to me. She has short cherry-red hair. She’s clutching a plastic Coke bottle and there’s a “Loki for President” button on her bag. She smells faintly of cigarette smoke and her voice is slightly raspy. I reveal my assignment. She says she loves The Stranger She tells me she’s headed to SoDo to hit up Zips Cannabis with some friends and grab KFC afterward. I ask her if she goes there often. “Oh, yes, that’s a common trip,” she says, laughing.
Angle Lake, northbound: 6:17 p.m.
A garbled, staticky announcement warns that all riders must exit the train. I get out and pace. I see the cleaning crew and transit security. I see a group in black Tool T-shirts and wonder if they’re headed to My Chemical Romance.
SeaTac: 6:23 p.m.
At SeaTac, an older couple sits behind me. They’re here visiting their son. The wife is loudly confused about which stop is theirs. “Westlake.” “Wesley?” “No, Westlake!” They call their son on speakerphone. Further down the train, a group of friends in black clothes with striped arm warmers,
Smallville with her mom. They featured heavily on the soundtrack.
Jason recently drove to see the Killers’ Las Vegas residency, but was disappointed that they played their second album (which they never play) at another show and not his. They’ve both seen Paramore twice. Ciara comments that the band performed their iconic Twilight song “Decode” when she saw them in Seattle (Jason, outraged: “She didn’t sing that when I saw her!”)
Lynnwood, southbound: 8:17 p.m.
I get off at the Lynnwood light rail station and walk around a bit to stretch my legs. When I hop back on, the only other person in the car is a young man with longish hair. The hypnotic rhythm of the train, and its stuffy air, start to lull me.
Three transit fare enforcement officers in blue vests hop in at Pioneer Square. Everyone stiffens. A nervous-looking man a few seats away from me starts to tell one of the officers he paid his fare. The officer waves him off.
He clears his throat. “Good evening, everyone,” he says. He explains he’s not here to check people’s fare this time and is getting off at Chinatown. He says he’s here for “customer service” and just wants to know if anyone has any questions or concerns. Everyone relaxes.
The nervous man again insists that he paid his fare. The enforcement officer says he appreciates it and helps a couple of young men secure their luggage.
“Last One!” Vivian McCall. 9 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.
Capitol Hill, northbound: 9:04 p.m.
The rollerblader is so close to the tracks that I want to throw up. They’re weaving inches from a fall. In booty shorts. They skid to a stop, nearly crashing into a pedestrian. When I get on, a man with a duffel bag mutters to himself on the seat across from me. He looks like Mike Love from the Beach Boys and makes intense eye contact that breaks into a jittery smile.
I notice the airline tag on his duffel bag. Depending on where he’s from, I may be an unusual sight.
band her brother showed her in elementary school.
She met Jason online playing Call of Duty 2 in high school. This was their first time meeting in person. Jason, wearing a chain
These people are clearly dressed for My Chemical Romance. The general vibe is best described as “Hot Topic store managers meeting.”
over his Linkin Park tee, traveled from Los Angeles to see the show.
Ciara and Jason are “big concert people.”
Ciara says with pride that she’s seen Taylor Swift’s Reputation Tour and her Eras Tour—twice. She’s seeing the Fray later this summer, a nostalgic band for her. She grew up watching the Superman show
I check my watch: 9:18 p.m. The man next to me is reading my notes. I turn to him. Another Mike Love.
We reach Lynnwood City Center and I crouch on the platform. It smells like vomit and Italian bread from Subway.
The kind security guard says I can take the same train in the other direction. I step inside. It smells like sweat and farts. And a little like Subway.
A teenage boy and a young woman sit across from me in the middle of the car. The teen’s suitcase has a tag that reads ORD to SEA. His name is Chris; the woman’s name is Caroline. I ask if they’re from Chicago. No, New York. They passed through Chicago on their way here. They hiked Mount Rainier, which was “good.” What did they like? “The nature.” I assume they speak in full sentences, but not to me.
A shirtless, tattooed man steps on the train. A miniature Sonic (the Hedgehog) skateboard and camera are tucked into the waistband of his cargo shorts. He’s holding a pale green spear of honeydew melon in one hand and a blue rose in the other. I check my watch again. It’s 10:00 p.m. On
the dot. Day has become night.
A crowd pours in at U District Station. There are at least 70 people in here. The shirtless, tattooed man is applying baby oil to his hair and body. He takes a Barbie, still in the packaging, and a green box cutter from his bag. He slices the packaging, which falls to the floor like hair at a barbershop. When he finishes, he places the knife back in his bag and retrieves a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. He bites at the packaging.
Pioneer Square, southbound: 10:16 p.m.
I notice four security guards in the car. Seattle is an early-to-bed city. Their shifts probably just ended. A young woman on the platform carries a bulging plastic grocery bag and a busted mirror. I’m reminded of college.
10:27 p.m.
A small child, maybe 8 years old, gets on alone at Rainier Beach. God… was he born after Donald Trump became president? This makes me sad.
10:47 p.m.
A sleeping man with bushy black eyebrows is jostled awake by a sudden lurch. His head snaps forward. Barely conscious, he fishes his phone from his pocket, puts it back, and falls back asleep seconds later. He throws his head back again. He’s so relaxed. I’ve never fallen asleep on the train post-transition. I wouldn’t.
A security guard drops his phone behind me. We all jump. The 8-year-old hops off at Tukwila, still alone.
10:52 p.m.
The office park at Angle Lake strikes me as beautiful. It’s ghostly white, almost brutalist. There’s an art installation above my head. Pink disks threaded with wire, like a tambourine pulled apart in a spider’s web. Angle Lake, northbound: 11:01 p.m.
There’s a girl with a red bag and tan shoes. Her hair is up and she’s folded her body like a packing peanut.
At SeaTac, a big man (Ramone) in a rumpled suit grapples with a tall narrow case. It looks like a giant lipstick tube. I try to guess what was inside. “Bassoon?”
Slide projector, Ramone says, for a presentation on his fraternity at the Hilton. He’s got a warm smile. He’s gay, too, I think. How right I was: Ramone is working on a PhD in gender and sexuality studies. He wants to teach.
“Would Trump be a problem?” I ask.
“It’s not the first time academia has been under attack from the nation-state,” he says. It’s such a confident answer. I feel silly asking. He knows the risk of entering academia right now better than I do, I think.
I ask where he’s going. To his boyfriend’s place, he says. Which stop? I ask. He hesitates, then answers. “Lynnwood.” I wonder if he is telling the truth. It’s fine if he isn’t. I’m a stranger.
Stadiums: 11:31 p.m.
MCR fans flood the car. They’re loud and smell like popcorn. A teen sits next to me. Sandy blond hair sticks out from his Mariners hat. He has small eyes and big cheeks. He moves gracefully. The line to get into the concert had been “unreal,” but it was worth it. MCR played the The Black Parade back to front, the teen, whose name is Wyatt, says. He says he first heard MCR in “grade 10.” I ask if he’s Canadian and he smiles big. “How did you know?” he asks. “We say 10th grade,”
I say, smiling back. He’s sweet. Wyatt, who is from British Columbia, says his family used to come to Washington to grocery shop. Before the tariffs, of course. Shop Canadian is still a big deal, Wyatt says. He’s a cashier at a grocery store. The other day, a woman came in asking for Canadian lemons. They didn’t have those, so she didn’t buy lemons.
A big guy with a long, Seussian beard and an Iron Maiden T-shirt listens intently. Dad, I suspect. I’m right. His name is Cory, and he tells me they’re going back to BC tonight. They’ll get in at about 3 a.m., he says. That’s late, I think.
Two lesbians, I think, joke about fleeing the country. There’s a pause I’m familiar with. They’re a little serious, but not serious enough to be serious about it.
12:05 a.m.
My conversation with Cory and Wyatt reaches its natural end and we’re all staring in absurd directions to avoid eye contact. Canadians are not that different after all.
12:18 a.m.
The train stops at Shoreline. A man walks off with popcorn. That explains the smell.
Bored, I ask Cory about his Iron Maiden shirt. He was 7 when he first saw the band in—his eyes roll while he does the mental calculation—1983, which would make him 50. I suddenly notice wrinkles around his
A small child, maybe 8 years old, gets on alone at Rainier Beach. God… was he born after Donald Trump became president?
eyes. They were playing in Vancouver. His 13-year-old sister took him. He seems amazed that a 13-year-old could take a 7-year-old to a concert. Cory jokes about keeping a way closer eye on his son, who seems a little embarrassed, but not too much. They like each other. It’s nice to be around family that gets along. I ask if his sister still listens to Iron Maiden. He pauses. He doesn’t know. They don’t talk.
The train arrives at Lynnwood. We stand up. Wyatt turns to me. It was nice to meet you, he says. We step off the train and wave goodbye.
After a moment, I reenter the train. At night, an empty train car feels like an empty swimming pool. I enjoy the silence.
The door opens with a clunk and a man steps on. He sits close enough behind me that I’m nervous. I think about the sleeping man with bushy eyebrows. I could never do that. I dig for my phone in my purse and can’t find it. It’s gone, I think, and start digging with real panic.
I find it.
12:55 a.m.
Doors open at Roosevelt. A security guard sings: “Last one! Last one!” Fucking tell me about it, dude.
1:04 a.m.
I
get off the train with a stranger singing “Last One!” in my head. ■
How Many Drinks Is Too Many? An Unscientific
Study
BY STRANGER STAFF
PHOTOS BY BRITTNE LUNNISS
ABSTRACT:
After two drinks, do you think you could accurately guess your blood alcohol content? Do you think just under 0.08% is safe to drive?
In Washington, State Senator John Lovick, a former Washington State Patrol Trooper and Snohomish County Sheriff, has been arguing for years that it’s not. Session after session, he’s introduced bills to lower the legal blood alcohol limit from 0.08% to 0.05%, and session after session, the bill has languished in committee.
We here at The Stranger realized that we didn’t have an informed opinion on his bills, because we didn’t know how different 0.05 and 0.08 would feel, or how many drinks it would take for us to get there.
So we devised a semi-scientific experiment using 10 subjects, too much alcohol, and Mario Kart 64 . And we learned that yes, the legal blood alcohol limit is too damn high.
BACKGROUND:
Drunk driving is a very, very bad idea. You can kill yourself. Take a life. Break a family. Destroy cars. Fuck your insurance premiums. Get that license suspended. Boil in legal hell and pay hundreds to thousands of dollars to do it. Embarrass Mom. Disappoint Dad. Remind everyone of Uncle Jim, the bastard.
We could smash an egg (or a head) with a frying pan, PSA-style, to make a beleaguered point about drinking, but that won’t stop people from climbing into their vehicles piss-drunk and ending their lives in a plume of fire. Washington traffic deaths hit a 30-year high in 2023. More than 800 people died that year. Half of those fatalities were linked to impaired driving.
Everyone seems to have their own idea of what driving drunk feels like. There’s the type who won’t get behind the wheel if
Everyone seems to have their own idea of what driving drunk feels like.
alcohol has touched their lips in the past 12 hours, those who are fine cruising after one or two beers, and, of course, the shaky, shortsighted daredevils with abundant confidence and pungent breath. Legally speaking, though, in 2003, every state in the country agreed on a number: If the concentration of alcohol in your blood is 0.08% or higher, you’re too drunk to drive.
Many people, including a handful of Washington legislators, think that number
is too high. Research suggests impairment begins at 0.05% BAC or lower. Data included in a National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) report found that impairment begins way below .08 in driver simulations. At 0.001% to .009%, subjects displayed divided attention and strayed into the center lane. At 0.01% to 0.019%, people grew drowsy. At 0.02% to 0.029%, reaction time lagged. At 0.03% to 0.039%, subjects were less vigilant and perceptive. To put it as simply as the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration: impairment begins with the first drink.
The drunker we get, the dumber we get, and the more a car is like a Goldbergian contraption that hungers for speed and gasoline-soaked, lightly-braised human meat. Again, impaired driving kills hundreds of people in this state every year.
Sen. Lovick’s bill isn’t visionary. The US is an outlier on BAC. Three quarters of the world set their limits at or below 0.05%. Like Lovick, the NTSB has been fighting to lower it for years. So have lawmakers in states, including Connecticut, New York, Colorado, and Hawaii.
So far, Utah is the only state that has lowered their legal limit to .05. That makes sense in a state that’s about a third Mormon, a religion that forbids drinking. But it appears that Utah’s experiment in being superior to us is working. In 2019, the first year it lowered the legal limit, Utah saw a
nearly 20% reduction in fatal crashes. It’s been six years. Copycat bills should have swept the nation and passed handily, right? No. Both Colorado and New York have added a second tier to their legal code— Driving While Ability Impaired—with 0.05% limits, but violations at that level come with lower penalties. Overwhelmingly, this is the land of “give us liberty, or give us death.” And for whatever reason, Americans tend to choose both.
METHODOLOGY:
Our unscientific science experiment started with three basic materials: booze, breathalyzers, and an N64.
We wanted to assess both our ability to guess our BAC and our dexterity at 0.05% and 0.08%. So each subject chose one booze that they would drink for the whole night (beer, wine, Malört, tequila, gin, vodka, whiskey, or White Claw). Then we ate two slices of pizza each and sat down at the N64. Each subject played a baseline round of Mario Kart 64 while they were sober, and we tracked their time and the number of crashes.
Then we started drinking. Twenty minutes after each drink, we guessed our BAC, and then blew into the breathalyzer for an accurate reading. If we’d crossed 0.05%, it was time to do another round of Mario Kart And then again for 0.08%.
First
Subject A
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 155 lbs.
Gender: Female
Drink: 12 oz. White Claw (mango)
Booze Consumed
Sober
Number of Crashes 12 13 13
Notes: Subject A had to be taught how to hold an N64 controller before her first race. Her sensitivity to alcohol and, particularly, whatever bullshit is in White Claw made the next day’s 5 a.m. light rail shift very difficult.
Subject B
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 180 lbs.
Gender: Female
Drink: 2 oz. Malört
Booze Consumed
Subject C
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 236 lbs.
Gender: Male
Drink: 5 oz. white wine
Booze
Sober Past .05% ABV Past .08% ABV
Time 3:04:60 3:02:07 3:14:62
Number of Crashes 3 4 5
Notes: 8 oz. of Malört is too much Malört. The allotted 20-minute wait to take a breathalyzer test was not long enough for Subject B to process all that Chicago Spirit, and an hour after this test was over, she was properly Windy City Wasted. Again, 8 oz. of Malört is too much Malört. A treatment of 20 panicked minutes in the bathroom, a couch, and Ezell’s chicken prevented acute hangover symptoms the next morning, surprising all, subject included.
Time 6:23:95
Notes: Subject C does not have a license and has never driven. He had also never played Mario Kart before the moment we put the controller in his hand. But he may have a supernatural ability to metabolize alcohol, as his BAC went down between tests 2 and 3.
Subject D
Height: 5’5”
Weight: None of my business
Gender: Female
Drink: 2 oz. tequila
Subject E
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 150 lbs.
Gender: Unclear Drink: 12 oz. India Pale Ale (7% ABV)
Notes: With every drink, Subject E yelled about the doubledecker school buses in Mario Kart a little bit louder.
Subject F
Height: 5’ 6”
Weight: None of your business
Gender: Female Drink: 3 oz. soju (grape)
Notes: Subject D drank tequila out of a Betty Boop shot glass. She agreed to the experiment thinking she’d be consuming a maximum of two drinks. After eight one-ounce shots, the subject was unable to navigate public transit and had to wait for an Uber at her coworker’s apartment.
Notes: Subject F finished two full bottles of soju without hitting 0.08% BAC. However, she reported feeling far too drunk to drive, and refused to get any more drunk. Icon behavior.
Subject G
Height: 6’3’’
Weight: 210 lbs.
Gender: Male
Drink: 2 oz. whiskey
Booze Consumed
Sober
Number of Crashes 15 15 N/A
Notes: During his final race, Subject G turned to our timekeeper and said: “They won’t let me live, Megan.”
Subject H
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 285 lbs.
Gender: Male
Drink: 2 oz. vodka
Booze Consumed Self-Assessed
First
Subject J
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 160 lbs.
Gender: Female
Drink: 2 oz. gin
3:19.30 3:21:44 3:12:15 Number of Crashes 10 6 17
Notes: Subject H’s tests reminded us that we’re not scientists. We failed to account for the diversity of time it might take for people to metabolize alcohol, and as a result, it took 14 oz. of liquor for Subject H to finally blow above 0.08%, but after the experience, he told our timekeeper: “I can’t feel this pizza in my mouth.” And when he left the lab, everything hit him at once. Casualties included: one toilet seat lid, Subject H’s ability to experience sunlight the next day.
Subject I
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 119 lbs.
Gender: Female Drink: 5 oz. prosecco
Sober
Number of Crashes 48 N/A 47
Notes: Subject I got increasingly mad at the Mario Kart game, which she had never played before and “didn’t care for” (which she repeated many, many times), and tried to put the controller down mid-race so she could yap with colleagues instead. She did, however, feel confident she could “easily drive everyone to Canada in a Sprinter” after drinking the entire bottle of prosecco. She also had band practice directly after this experiment and felt as though she sang and played the keyboard pretty damn well; her bandmates have neither confirmed nor denied this as of this writing.
Notes: During her Mario Kart tests, the number of times Subject J said “Fuck” went up with her BAC.
CONCLUSION:
WE LEARNED
A FEW THINGS FROM THIS TEST.
We learned that Subject I “would have been better at the game if she actually cared about it.” We learned that some of us process alcohol at extremely different speeds.
We learned that Malört is evil in large quantities.
We learned that Subject C should be studied for his ability to make alcohol disappear from his blood.
But most importantly, we learned what the legal limit felt like. Every subject agreed that 0.08% BAC was higher than we would have hoped, and no one felt they should be behind a wheel in the twilight between 0.05% and 0.08%.
“I’m radicalized,” said Subject B, repeatedly, in a haze of Malört and Ezell’s fried chicken. Based on how she felt, she wouldn’t have gotten in a car at 0.026%.
Our unscientific experiment backed up what all the research has shown: 0.05% BAC is, in fact, impaired.
We called Sen. Lovick to tell him about our highly unscientific experiment. He was amused. Lovick first introduced his bill when he was still in the House in the early 2000s. He’s never given up, and says he won’t give up on trying to pass it. It passed the rules committee, so it should come up for a floor vote next session.
The hospitality industry may not agree, but Lovick says lowering the BAC is as common sense as his click-it-or-ticket law the Legislature passed more than two decades ago. Pass this bill and fewer people will die. Why then does it fail, in his opinion?
“All I can tell you is this,” he says. “People hate change and they hate the way things are.”
Transit Hot Takes
Is the Monorail good? Are scooters bad? Stranger staffers debate Seattle’s hottest transportation topics!
ILLUSTRATIONS BY TERESA GRASSESCHI
PRO:
I’ll admit it. I love e-scooters. They’re a convenient last-mile solution for those of us who don’t live near a light rail stop or for when the bus strands us downtown between 30-minute headways. Zip on a scooter to that BBQ a few blocks away when you’re running late, or back to your apartment when you forgot to bring heels to a wedding dress alteration appointment. Sure, sure, the scooters can be dangerous. This is because idiots ride them without helmets. This is also because we still live in a car’s world. And you know what is more dangerous than scooters? Cars. The popularity of scooters challenges car-centricity. Limes and Birds open up a car-less world to people used to opting for a Lyft or Uber. Additionally—don’t hate me, cyclists—scooter riders mean more people using bike infrastructure. That creates a new group of people asking the city for more bike lanes and investments in ways to get around without cars. We just need some of the numbskulls riding them to ride them as if imminent death lurks around every corner. Drivers should drive that way, too. We’ll all be safer if we are constantly considering our own mortality. In the meantime, enjoy a scooter ride. Live a little. NATHALIE GRAHAM
PRO:
Stop blaming the 8. She’s doing the best she can with the abominable circumstances we’ve given her. Her route starts just blocks from Climate Pledge Arena, where nearly 20,000 fans flock to concerts and sporting events several times a week. No new infrastructure was built into the neighborhood to alleviate the traffic, the crowds—she was just forced to manage the mess like an undervalued employee at an understaffed company. Rude! From there, she heads up Denny Way, which is a tangle of commuters racing to get to I-5 via a four-lane, stoplight-riddled city street that condenses into one turn lane at the base of Denny’s I-5 overpass with no bus lanes to help her through the chaos. And yet we curse her name as if she has done anything but continue to haul our ungrateful asses up one of the biggest hills in the city without complaint. I will no longer stand by while the city slanders her good name. Don’t hate the 8, hate Denny Way! Hate impatient, selfish drivers! Hate that our city prioritizes cars over public transportation! I love you, Route 8. MEGAN SELING
CON:
There was a time in this country where the only people with scooters were 8-year-olds and your idiot cousin with a gas-powered weed wacker on wheels called a moped. But now these fucking things are a key part of urban transportation strategy. My main quibble with scooters is not that they’re annoying dumbass magnets that double as a sidewalk obstacle course for the young, old, and disabled; it’s that they’re inequitable idiot magnets. For some people, they work. They even go zoom zoom, making you laugh like a little baby (I see you and I judge you). Don’t have a smartphone? Can’t use ’em. Going to the grocery store? Hope you brought a wagon, and a rope. Disabled? Fuck you, again, actually. Old? Don’t break your hip. Have a brain? They don’t come with helmets, so don’t fall and forget what it was like to be 17! The most offensive part is the suggestion that these scooters are a magic last-mile transit solution to all those racially inequitable train lines in this country. Fuck. No. It’s illusory and gives cities an excuse to not invest in public infrastructure. VIVIAN McCALL
THE ROUTE 8 BUS
CON:
PRO: Sure, tourists love the Monorail. It’s whimsical. It reminds them of a 1960s vision of the future with less climate change and more space travel. And it’s arguably the most picturesque one mile of transit in the city. But like many things in Seattle (read: Pike Place Market) just because tourists like it, doesn’t mean it sucks. Since the Monorail started accepting ORCA cards in 2019, it’s also a light rail extension for the otherwise-stranded Lower Queen Anne, a connection to the D Line (if you don’t mind walking through Seattle Center and visiting the fountain), and an invaluable way to avoid hellish car congestion for arena events like Kraken games. Don’t blame her for the failed dream of the Monorail Project. It’s one of Seattle’s original people movers, and it’s still useful today. HANNAH MURPHY WINTER
The 8 route begins at the Mount Baker Transit Center, which was built with absolutely no love for public transportation. It’s an eyesore. While waiting for a Metro bus, one feels like they are waiting for a prisoner transport vehicle. Soon after the 8 arrives, it’s immediately followed by the 48. Both buses cover much of the same area in the Central District, why not separate the buses by 10 minutes? Why make it so that if you miss one, you certainly miss the other? Has this anything to do with the CD’s past? Maybe they will fix the scheduling when they learn that Black people don’t live there anymore. As for the world-historical horribleness of the stretch from the bottom of Capitol Hill to the bottom of Queen Anne, the bus is always stuck in a traffic jam caused by tech workers fleeing South Lake Union all at once. But Metro has done nothing to fix this and other issues on this considerable part of the 8’s route. All they seem to say is: It is what it is. The 8 sucks. CHARLES MUDEDE
CON:
The Seattle Monorail is a thing for tourists, hockey fans (derogatory), and people going to the ELO concert. My gripes with it aren’t as convincing right now, since its summer operating hours make sense (as in, service runs past 9 p.m.). But, during the fall and winter, you better hope you wrap any business you have in Lower Queen Anne before 9 p.m. or you’ll miss the last train out of the Seattle Center. It’s dumb, impractical, and a reminder of a stupid dream. Seattle spent years and millions of dollars on the illusion of a full-fledged monorail spanning the city. It never came to be and cost us precious time to develop a functioning high-capacity transit system—something we’re only barely starting to taste 20 years after the Monorail Project folded. Created for the World’s Fair in 1962 as a symbol of Seattle’s advanced technology, the Monorail is now a reminder of how we are actually stuck in the past.
NATHALIE GRAHAM
MoPOP Meets Dirty South Feminism
Adeerya Johnson Presents the Soundtrack of Black American History
BY GENNETTE CORDOVA
Walking into the Museum of Pop Culture’s latest exhibition, Never Turn Back: Echoes of African American Music, you’re met with sound—intentional and stirring. The rhythmic creaking wood conjures a slave ship crossing the Atlantic. In the distance, the wailing of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come” rings out promisingly through the space. It’s clear from the outset that the exhibition is a tribute and a sermon.
Never Turn Back marks a milestone for the museum: a framing of American history through the lens of Black music, curated by MoPOP’s first-ever Black curator, Adeerya Johnson. The exhibition traces a lineage beginning from Negro spirituals and gospel to jazz, blues, soul, and hip-hop—genres born out of the Black experience, shaped by oppression, and wielded as tools of jubilation and protest.
Johnson’s vision for the exhibition is inseparable from her own background. A Decatur, Georgia, native and PhD student who coined the term “Dirty South Feminism,” she speaks of the Black South with a clear sense of its cultural power. “I am a Black girl from the South. I love to say that. Within the past five years [living between Vancouver and Seattle], I’ve leaned into the idea of the privilege of existing in the Black South,” she says, noting the advantage of being immersed in communities that reflect your cultural identity, from your neighbors and educators to the local doctors and artists. “It’s really special to go outside and see yourself 1,000 times over… and I was always surrounded by our music, with five different Black radio stations on at all times. That’s what shaped me.”
Black music is rooted in the South. It’s where spirituals were born, and where gospel evolved, laying the foundation for all Black music and shaping essentially all genres of American music . This early music was a form of faith and empowerment, which Black communities needed in abundance to survive slavery and the racial terror that followed emancipation. “I even added a little bit about the Fisk Jubilee Singers, and a hint of how HBCUs [Historically Black Colleges and Universities] have been so tied to the Black church.” In 1871, a group of nine young people formed a chorus with the goal of performing and raising money for their newly established Black college, Fisk University. Most of the original group, who became known as the Fisk Jubilee Singers, were former slaves. Johnson saw it as essential to weave the legacy of HBCUs into the story. “I reflected on my time at Spelman, and the Spelman and Morehouse Glee Clubs. They have such a
rich history. And, of course, there’s Fisk. The Fisk Jubilee Singers were traveling across the world in the late 1800s singing for the Queen of England, and building a name for themselves—already showcasing the power of Black music and how it can globally mobilize. The idea is for people to develop a curiosity and unravel the history of HBCUs and the post-emancipation era.”
Moving through the exhibition, Never Turn Back also sheds light on the contributions of Black blues women, who pioneered provocative and radical expression through music. The exhibition’s blues listening station features a “love hurts” theme and includes songs like “Ball and Chain” by
This early music was a form of faith and empowerment.
Big Mama Thornton and “Crazy Blues” by Mamie Smith. The songs from this era touched on previously unbroached topics in mainstream music like domestic abuse and women committing infidelity. “A lot of these blues women were navigating sexuality and identity. The presence of Black queer women in blues is an important story to tell, because it provides insight into how Black women were thinking about themselves in the 1920s.” This is yet another area where Johnson’s personal identity shapes her curatorial lens. She discussed coming
out as queer in her early 20s, and feeling a sense of protection within the breadth of the Black queer community in the South, which she again notes as a privilege. “For blues, I really wanted to also highlight where sacred music diverges into secular music. And blues is kind of an early form of hip-hop where they’re talking about, you know, sex and identity and drinking and smoking. But also the idea that Black people are free now.” Johnson’s PhD research is grounded in Dirty South Feminism—her Southern take on the modern Black woman, inspired particularly by journalist Joan Morgan’s examinations of hip-hop and feminism. Like many of us, she has a deep love and appreciation for the genre, despite the contradictions it poses for Black women and women in general. She designed somewhat of a crash course on hip-hop sampling for Never Turn Back —illustrating how producers recontextualized early gospel, soul, and jazz music, creating something responsive to their modern realities while working to immortalize the work of Black artists who came before them.
With an exploration of over a century of history, framed through music, Johnson delivers a moving and educational experience for MoPOP. Her position as the first Black curator in the museum’s history is both a unique responsibility and an opportunity. “It feels like a challenge in a good way,” she says. “There are not a lot of Black curators, just in the country. The reality is that we are not always welcome in museum spaces, as curators, or as educators, or as artists.”
Although the number of Black American
curators doubled between 2015 and 2018, they still account for only an estimated 4 percent of museum curators. For Johnson, the confidence and freedom imparted by her colleagues gave her the space she needed to spearhead this project. And the inclusion of her perspective is especially timely at Seattle’s celebrated MoPOP, as Black contributions are tremendous but often the result of marginalization.
“Sometimes pop culture is scary when you are Black,” she says. “A lot of the art is a product of discrimination and exclusion, a product of redlining.” Johnson used the example of Motown, which nurtured the careers of countless artists, from Diana Ross to Marvin Gaye. The iconic record label’s formation and success was the outcome of Berry Gordy’s vision and the supreme talent of the musical acts, but it was also the outcome of the lack of opportunities available to Black artists in the music industry.
Fortunately for Seattle, Johnson sees her future in the museum world and, for now, in continuing to share the privilege afforded to her by her Black Southern roots with MoPOP. She hopes that Never Turn Back will attract more people to the space, particularly new visitors and Black women and girls. “Being in this space allows me to keep talking about Black culture and history in a way that’s accessible. Museums are really great spaces for people to learn from, and I don’t think that I can lean in on that as much, or create as much access, in academia.” ■
Never Turn Back is on display at MoPOP through early 2027.
Johnson is the first Black curator in the museum’s 25-year history.
BILIE WINTER
The Life Aquatic with Sea Lemon
Natalie Lew Talks Giant Squids, Taking Inspiration from Horror Films, and Collaborating with Ben Gibbard
BY JULIANNE BELL
When Natalie Lew launched her solo project, Sea Lemon, she wasn’t trying to impress anyone. “When I released my first couple songs, it was honestly just for fun,” she says. “I had no thought about reaching a wide audience or a bigger demographic other than my friends, really.” Now, with her debut full-length album, Diving for a Prize, under her belt, the rising shoegaze/dream-pop artist has opened for major acts like Death Cab for Cutie and American Football and is signed to Luminelle Recordings, the indie label known for putting alt-pop duo Magdalena Bay on the map.
Lew first picked up her roommate’s electric guitar while living in New York and began playing rhythm guitar in a Brooklyn-based grunge/dream-pop band called Climates about a month later. In 2020, she and her now-fiancé moved back to her hometown of Seattle; she started Sea Lemon as a way to entertain herself during the pandemic and make use of the minimal equipment she’d acquired.
She found she enjoyed the increased creative control that she had working by herself and ended up putting out her first music video, “Sunday,” shot on an iPhone, to showcase her new pastime to friends and family. Soon, she had amassed a “mound of songs” and began to attract unexpected interest from small labels. Lew cheekily refers to her music as “Costco Cocteau Twins,” likening it to a Pacific Northwest–bred budget version of the seminal Scottish dream-pop trio. Other influences include the Cure, Enya, Caroline Polachek, Air, and My Bloody Valentine, as well as the shoegaze group Nothing, and Danish artists like ML Buch and Astrid Sonne.
Diving for a Prize , which came out in June, features shimmery, swirling sonic landscapes that blend darkness with brightness, melding sinister lyrics with dreamy, jangly synths and ethereal vocals. Lew likes the complexity this balance of opposites brings: “Mixing those feels important to me, to have any kind of nuance.” She worked
with engineer/producer Andy Park, whose credits include Death Cab for Cutie and Deftones, at his West Seattle home studio the Crumb, along with Sheridan Riley of Alvvays on drums.
By day, Lew—who studied design at University of Washington—works as a graphic designer, and her sharp visual eye plays a central role in her music. Images are often the first things that come to her when writing a song. While working on Diving for a Prize , she kept returning to the concept of a humanoid alien’s first time on Earth.
About a year and a half ago, she fell in love with Los Angeles painter Elly Minagawa’s work at a First Thursday Art Walk in Pioneer Square, and the artist became a muse who helped her define a more surreal, dreamlike sound. “In some ways, I think songs like ‘Silver’ and ‘Blue Moon’ off of my album were inspired by how eerily iridescent some of her paintings are,” she says. Later, she tapped Minagawa to paint the cover for Diving for a Prize and the two worked together to create a hazy, psychedelic vision. Newfound access to a variety of synths at Park’s studio also shaped her album.
Lew writes short fiction in her free time, and her love of literature bleeds into her music. She hopes to release a short story collection within the next five years and would love to cowrite songs with an author. She cites Ottessa Moshfegh, Melissa Broder, Emma Cline, and Joan Didion as some of her favorite writers and is particularly fascinated with obsessive female antiheroes and messy, absurdist narratives about characters finding themselves. “That pathway being kind of uncomfort-
able and weird and doing crazy things, that is so compelling to me as a songwriter,” she says. Her song “Sweet Anecdote” imagines an ambiguous, stalkerish speaker (“You were the one / Knew from the start / God I was so / Sure when I saw / You in your car”). “Stay” recalls an elderly security guard she saw sleeping on a couch in a Capitol Hill thrift store, while “Rear View” tells the story of a doomed baseball player.
“What’s the risk of just releasing something that you like? Maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s out there.”
As her stage name would suggest, the ocean is another major source of aesthetic inspiration for Lew, who appreciates that it symbolizes the unknown lurking beneath a placid surface. As a kid, she spent many hours at the sea due to her mom’s involvement with the volunteer program at a local aquarium. She dreamed of becoming a marine biologist and of discovering a giant squid someday. “I grew up tidepooling a lot and loving the ocean, and some of the stuff [you find] is kind of disgusting-looking in a really beautiful way,” she says. “Even sea anemones and sea stars, when the water goes down and they’re all slimy-looking, it’s so beautiful and so scary. I think that feels so emblematic of my music—something beautiful, light, and pretty, but also freaky and spooky.”
Lew is a devoted horror fan and admits that the classic 1990 Stephen King adap -
tation Misery is her “comfort movie.” “My fiancé is at the point where he’s like, ‘Can we please not watch it again?’” she says, laughing. She’s influenced by contemporary horror films like Midsommar and says pop allows her to sneak some of the “unlikable protagonists” and darker, more subversive themes of horror into a more widely accessible medium.
For the single “Crystals,” she collaborated with Death Cab for Cutie frontman Ben Gibbard, who reached out after they performed at a benefit show together. Lew sent him the chorus and bridge of the song, which presents a haunting, cynical take on manifestation and New Age culture: “I keep waiting on the line for a sound / Throwing crystals at the wall, all around.” Gibbard replied with some lines about depression—“It seems that all I wanna do is sleep these days / And wake up in about a year and not feel this way.”
As far as upcoming plans go, Lew has a short film inspired by Diving for a Prize coming out this summer. She’ll also headline the Tractor Tavern in August, supported by singer-songwriter Nathan Reed and local indie favorite Tomo Nakayama.
She’s come a long way since her early days of writing in isolation, and encourages anyone interested in making music to just dive in, the way she did. “It sounds simple, but a lot of the time I hear friends or people I know being like, ‘I’m almost done with the song, but it’s not perfect,’ or ‘Oh, we recorded it, but it’s 5 BPM too fast, we’ve got to rerecord,’” she says. “What’s the risk of just releasing something that you like? Maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s out there.”
Sea Lemon plays Tractor Tavern with Tomo Nakayama and Nathan Reed Fri Aug 8, 8 pm, 21+. ■
Natalie Lew sneaks “unlikable protagonists” into her pop music. JUNEAU JANZEN
Connection over Conclusions Chloé Caldwell Refuses Tidy Endings in Trying
BY KATIE LEE ELLISON
Since its original release in 2014, Chloé Caldwell’s novella Women has gathered a fanatic following, earning celebrity blurbs and other celebrities Instagramming themselves carrying tote bags with pull quotes from the book on them.
My own teachers reference the book as a quintessential piece of queer literature. I found a copy in 2024 when it was rereleased by HarperCollins due to the revived hype and its cult status; as a white woman who came out late in life, I thought living vicariously through a narrator who fumbles and bumbles her way into a fully
“I do think about consumerism and getting pregnant: You can buy it, throw money at it.”
toxic multi-year-long mess of a first queer love affair with a much older person would be a sweet gift to myself. Honestly, it made me mostly relieved I missed it: I’m not
made for the game, you guys.
So when I saw that Caldwell had another book coming out, a memoir, I was intrigued. I jumped at the chance to talk to a writer who had created essential reading for young queer women, especially with a new memoir that changes direction mid-writing due to life events outside her control.
“Originally I had pitched [this book] to Graywolf from the angle that I’ve been going through this unexplained infertility and reading tons of memoirs and essay collections, novels, whatever I could find, about infertility, and they all end with a baby. There was one, The Panic Years by
Nell Frizzell, which I thought was really good, but she also ended up having a baby. I didn’t know if I was going to have a baby or not, but [I thought], ‘I don’t have one now,’ [and] maybe [the book] ends regardless of if I do or don’t when I’m done with the writing. That was something I wanted to see in the world. I wanted to put out another kind of narrative.”
Trying begins with Caldwell deep in obsession over how to get pregnant with her then-husband, B. Much more is revealed in Act III (no spoilers), but in the first two acts, this obsession is where our sight is directed. As someone who has
COLLEEN
now watched many friends go through a series of hellish scenarios in attempts to get pregnant, stay pregnant, and survive birthing, I really appreciated this captured tunnel of experience. In our conversation, Caldwell said she was surprised, rereading that section, just how dark it was. The clich é stands that for as many women who try to get pregnant, there are the same number of ways it can happen as there are ways it can go unexpectedly.
Soapbox, incoming: It astonishes me
“I didn’t know I was trapped, is the interesting thing, and I don’t just mean by my marriage.”
how I learn something new every time someone I know tries to get pregnant, tries to adopt, is pregnant, has a child. Why do we not have more and better education about this? We know why. But still, WHY?
About this book: Maybe it will make me a better friend. I know that for Caldwell, connection, not accuracy, not a neat ending or an academic read, is the point.
“I found a Discord group that was so niche. Four stepmoms experiencing unexplained infertility, the most specific thing ever [and] two [experiences] that are already really isolated. Our culture doesn’t know how to have a casual conversation about those things because they’re so loaded. Those were really hard years, and connection is always the answer for everything.”
Other comforts were found in this story for the speaker. As someone who is not averse to using retail as a coping strategy—my miraculously maintained middle-class existence is reinforced by quasi-luxuries that allow me an extremely temporary distraction from personal and global pains—the number of brands and references to retail in this short book had me caught up.
“Why is she doing this?” I thought.
What does the frequent appearance of Trader Joe’s mean? The mention of the beauty brand ILIA had me titillated, not just because I love their foundation, but because their sales were juxtaposed with the discounts offered to Caldwell via algorithm and email for sperm. Buy one vial, get the second half off. Was this commentary on American happiness? The American Dream? What’s for sale? What we can actually buy, and what we can’t?
This book is about an isolating experience, agonizing for the ways Caldwell is absolutely desperate with desire, and for the ways these brand names appear again and again—little cortisol boosts familiar to anyone who’s sought consumerist distraction between posts about the many wars, bills in Congress, arrests, court cases, violences, GoFundMes, and on and on and on through that little screen. So I wondered about Caldwell’s intention with these name-drops.
“I really enjoy hyper-specificity. When I’m teaching writing, if someone names a jacket or coffee, I always want to know the brand because it does so much. I really like capturing time periods. I look back at my other [four books], and referencing Doc Martens [will place us] 20 years from now. I’m a hyper-specificity junkie.
“A lot of things in my books are [also] subconscious. I trust that the reader will make connections that I myself didn’t make. I’ve been doing this long enough to see that happen all the time. So sometimes, I will put in something a little random, [but] I do think about consumerism and getting pregnant: You can buy it, throw money at it.”
Trying will not give you a tidy ending, a clear trajectory, an example to follow. In their place, we receive a different truth: Sometimes you’re refused the thing you most want, perhaps the thing you even need, and somehow, in great pain, you keep going. You go and go, because that’s what there is to do, and no more information than to keep going is what you get. For those in the middle of great pain or great loss, this book can be a companion, not the friend telling you what to do, how to fix it, how to bend yourself around it, but keeping messy company inside circumstances beyond your control.
We’re served spoonfuls of Caldwell’s pain in equal measure to her retail and other distractions, and I hope that people who’re attempting to have children and struggling, or attempting anything and don’t know how it will end, find company in these pages.
There is this, though: I asked her about the central desire in this book.
“Definitely feeling free within yourself. I was really trapped in Act I and Act II. I didn’t know I was trapped, is the interesting thing, and I don’t just mean by my marriage. [I mean] the fertility clinic. You’re not treated like a human. It’s all just so awful! When I read this book now, I think, ‘This person was in a cage, then came out [of it].’ So freedom, whatever that means to everyone. Even just the freedom to write.” ■
One Hardcore Night in Little Saigon
Cherub
Chains Make Space for Everyone in the Pit
BY MICHAEL WONG
Seattle is a city that thrives on juxtapositions. So when I found myself at a hardcore rock show late one night, comprising mostly Asian-led acts, inside a Vietnamese coffee shop, nothing really seemed out of place.
Just beyond the cafe’s windows, Little Saigon faced its own challenges. Yet inside those walls that night, there was a different kind of chaos brewing—loud, defiant, and undeniably joyful. At the center of it all stood Molly Nguyen and Mitchell Keo—a couple uniquely suited to take on Seattle’s many contradictions. Together, they’re leading a rebellion that’s as joyful as it is improbable, bridging communities that would never have otherwise met.
Unlikely Harmonies
I got to my first hardcore show a little late. I had been to Little Saigon Creative before, a space that is home to Hello Em Việt Coffee & Roastery as well as headquarters to Friends of Little Saigon. In a neighborhood that has languished over the decades due to factors outside the community’s control, this is a space that feels evolutionary. Inside, lanterns hung from the ceiling, and the art gallery displayed pieces telling stories of Vietnamese immigrants in our community. Instead of folks working on laptops, the shop was now teeming with black-tee-donning mosh-pit veterans of all ages and ethnicities, each champing at the bit to let it loose.
I walked in ahead of the penultimate set, and like clockwork, Mitchell and Molly were first to greet me. They introduced me to friends in the crowd, then escorted me to a “safe haven” behind the bands where I watched the first act. I didn’t understand the purpose of a “safe haven” until the music started.
The act was MÄSSGRIEF, another Seattle band led by a Cambodian frontman who thrashed about, sending waves into the crowd, sometimes collapsing to his knees as he cut up a riff. Suddenly, otherwise introverted-looking dudes on the peripherals started throwing kicks and punches to no one in particular, sometimes catching a target. I got why I was graciously placed in the corner. And while I was a stranger to the scene, I wasn’t a stranger to the message. My head bopped in concert with the drums, my face was scrunched up in a thizz face fashion. At points, I could feel myself tearing up, not because I heard a sensitive line (I couldn’t really hear shit at that point), but because I
could feel the emotions in the performance in a tangible way, like when you can taste every ingredient in a well-made dish. Each song left me out of breath but eager for more.
Then, in a sweaty blur of distortion and applause, their set was wrapped. The crowd shifted and reset. Outside, a man shouted into the void before disappearing down 12th Avenue. Inside, people wiped their brows, traded nods with strangers, and got a stretch in to stay limber for the big finale. The room took a collective and needed breath.
And then Molly stepped up to the mic.
When Contradictions Collide
Molly wasn’t supposed to front a hardcore band—at least not on paper. She was raised on Seattle’s Eastside, the daughter of Vietnamese engineers, flanked by siblings in nursing school. She wore Abercrombie, aced her classes, and ended up with a doctorate in physical therapy. She lifts, bakes, reads. The résumé screams stability, an Asian parent’s dream daughter.
But somewhere in there, between the documentation and squats, Molly started dreaming about something louder, soundtracked by bands like Evanescence, Paramore, and My Chemical Romance.
Mitchell Keo, her boyfriend and musical coconspirator, has a story with a similar arc. A Math Olympiad kid from Houston, he skateboarded through his teens listening to Black Flag and early Green Day. These days, when he’s not keeping time on thrashy metal songs, he writes code for a living and also runs the Chinatown Book Club.
The pair met at This Is Hardcore Fest in Philadelphia in 2016. Too shy to court in person, Mitchell combed Twitter on the way home, searching through every hashtagged post until he found one from her. He shot his shot: polite, hopeful, slightly awkward. She replied: “Thanks, dude.” So deadly. But somehow, they kept talking, and eventually started dating.
Between then and now, there were years of long-distance: FaceTime calls, cross-country flights, and near-misses. At one point, Molly moved to Houston at the same time Mitchell moved to Tacoma. A relationship that, like their band, was built slowly and improbably, but with a clear and constant purpose.
The group didn’t come together in a garage like many Seattle acts, but in true tech-city fashion: a shared Google Doc. Molly and Mitchell filled the doc with references— bands like Arkangel, Excessive Force, and Grimlock—alongside ideas for riffs, lyrics,
and names that pulled from scripture and subversion. They took to Instagram to find friends who knew how to scream, organize, and stay up late arguing over kick-drum tones. Not just bandmates, but kindred spirits: Derby Green on the bass, Carlos Aleman on lead guitar, and Pedro Licuime on rhythm guitar. Once it all came together, they called themselves Cherub Chains and played their first show on August 30, 2024, at a Mexican restaurant (shout out to Rojo’s). Since then, they’ve played 21 shows (each of which Molly tracks in a spreadsheet). This includes an East Coast run with MÄSSGRIEF, culminating at the Asian American Unity Fest in NYC—a formative trip for Molly and crew. They’ve also put out an EP and a two-song summer promo, and contributed to a 20-band regional compilation called Where Do We Go? A Northwest Hardcore Compilation
Their music will put your speakers and headphones to the ultimate test. Booming, cathartic, and maximally expressive, each Cherub Chains song shapeshifts: some parts heavy and slow, others frantic and melodic. Lyrically, they write with fervor about identity, trauma, and the world around them. For a new hardcore listener, the way the sound invites you in and hypnotizes you will surprise you. For veteran
MICHAE L WONG
RAY MOCK
Cherub Chains (pictured here playing TV Eye in NYC for Asian American Unity Fest) have come a long way from their first show in a Mexican restaurant.
hardcore fans, Cherub Chains will feel like comfort food, the type that makes you feel at home but simultaneously ready to run through a brick wall.
Everything All at Once
She didn’t announce the band’s name. Didn’t need to. The room already knew—this is why they were here. Someone in the crowd let out a screech of approval as Mitchell settled behind the drums, calibrating his aura with the kit as his bandmates tuned their guitars. Then, without warning, it began.
The sound was raw, thunderous, a wall of riffs that collapsed into screaming urgency. Molly’s voice fought through it all: sharp, guttural, commanding. She sounded three times taller than she stood. She let out the kind of rallying cry that is hard to make out among the chaos, but the emotions are indelible. You feel it in your chest before your brain catches up.
People surged forward. A pit opened like a mouth. Some folks moshed about while others pushed back with a smile on their faces. Strangers linked arms in reverence and release. Asian folks watched someone who looks like them do something they never thought their kin could do. You could see what it meant to the crowd. And you could see what it meant to Molly.
In between songs, she took the mic to remind us why we were there. She talked about immigrants, ICE raids, and playing in a venue like this one—not for the optics, but because the message mattered as much as the moment. “Hardcore isn’t just for screaming and venting, it’s for building,” she told me later. “If we’re going to be given a platform, we better say something.”
At a recent show, a girl came up to Molly to say, “It’s so cool seeing an Asian woman on stage like that!” That moment stayed with her. Watching Cherub Chains perform, you get the sense the whole project was built in-kind to pass that moment forward.
For Mitchell, hardcore was the first place he felt seen. “I was an angry kid with no outlet,” he told me. “Hardcore gave me a place to just let it out without explanation.” When Mitchell pours himself into the drums, which he learned literally because Molly needed him to (a true “if he wanted to, he would” moment), it’s obvious that his
art requires no translation. It’s passionate, it’s relatable. It’s understood.
Looking around, you got the sense that this crowd knew they were here for something rare and improbable. And for something so unique, everyone seemed to be so comfortable. It was part of the genius of this show. For the local Vietnamese community, Hello Em and Little Saigon are already home. And hardcore fans already love weird spaces—VFW halls, church basements, libraries, and now Vietnamese cafes. That duality between familiar and unorthodox made this show feel like a bridge between scenes that rarely meet. A place where iced coffees and busted knuckles can coexist beneath paper lanterns, one where no one had to explain why they were there.
And then, as fast as it started, the show ended.
Molly said goodnight. The lights came up. The crowd lingered. Someone apologized for landing a stray punch while moshing; daps ensued. Molly and Mitchell fielded hugs from friends and fans. The night dispersed, but the feelings remained.
Walking back to my car, I still couldn’t hear shit, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had just experienced.
Making Space That Matters
This was over a month ago now, and as I’m writing about it, I can still feel myself in the corner of the cafe, witnessing a show that I never thought was possible. I’m still thinking about how I felt watching Molly and Mitchell go nuts on stage, and watching the crowd reciprocate that energy right back to them. It’s giving me goosebumps again.
While some put on a show for social clout or a payday, Cherub Chains carve out room in the noise for others to feel something real. This band shows us that when you build a bridge between two unlikely worlds—like paper lanterns and power chords—you don’t just create a show. You create a home. Not just for the hardcore kids. Not just for Asian folks, too. But for anyone who’s never felt like they belonged anywhere, and needed just one night where they finally did. ■
Cherub Chains play the Vera Project Aug 15, 7 pm, all ages .
RAY MOCK
Open the pit!
We do our best for accuracy, but please check venue websites for updates and more information, as event details may have changed since press time!
Erykah Badu and the Alchemist
Aug 8, Showbox SoDo
Housekeeping note: We have ceased to include pricing information, unless the event is free or sliding scale. (This is mostly due to third-party ticket vendors, like Ticketmaster, who have a monopoly on pricing that is not only unfair, but also confusing, due to varying fee structures. We hate them, and so should you.)
MUSIC
Lady Gaga: The MAYHEM Ball
AUG 6–9
Like Gaga’s signature mixed drink, the kalimotxo (red wine topped with Diet Coke and maraschino cherries), her sixth album, MAYHEM, is a freaky blend of rich, jazzy vocals and fizzy pop perfection. When she announced the tour earlier this year, Gaga noted that she opted to keep this one in arenas rather than stadiums: “I wanted to create a different kind of experience—something more intimate—closer, more connected.” However, this show still promises an opulent theatrical experience with designer costumes, Broadway-quality sets, and songs that span her career (yep, “Poker Face,” “Shallow,” and “Just Dance” are all on the setlist!). If you’re still a Gaga hater who believes she’s a cheap Madonna rip-off, learn your herstory! Madonna pointed out the absurdity of these criticisms, stating: “God forbid a woman takes inspiration.” (Climate Pledge Arena, 8 pm) AUDREY VANN
Erykah Badu and the Alchemist
AUG 8
Back in March, I trekked down to Portland to see Erykah Badu, only to have the show cancelled as I was walking to the arena from my hostel. While I was deeply disappointed, I had to sigh and say, “I guess I’ll see her in the Next Lifetime.” I suppose that good things do come to those who wait, because the queen of neo-soul is returning to the PNW alongside the Alchemist, a frequent producer for rap royalty like Mobb Deep, Eminem, Freddie Gibbs, and Earl Sweatshirt. Described as a “multisensory experience that bridges hip-hop production with the mastery of neo-soul innovation,” the collaborative tour will support their upcoming album, Abi & Alan—Badu’s first in 15 years. The album does not yet have a release date, but if the lead single, “Next to You,” provides any hints at what’s to come, expect her signature futuristic soul sound with a greater emphasis on hip-hop beats and vinyl samples.
(Showbox SoDo, 8 pm, 21+) AUDREY VANN
Den Fest
AUG 8–9
Lucy Dacus
AUG 10
Kay Redden, founder and sole employee of local tape label Den Tapes, is doing the lord’s work, one cassette release at a time. Redden is vital in keeping underground music alive and thriving in Seattle. Den Tapes will celebrate its 10th anniversary with a supercharged edition of its annual festival featuring two nights of live music, including grunge trio Wild Powwers, indie-pop outfit Soft Boiled, garagerock band Teenage Toad, singer-songwriter project Don Piano, and many more. Don’t forget to bring some extra money to buy tapes!
(Sunset Tavern, 7 pm, 21+) AUDREY VANN
Her newest album, ballads like “Best Guess” (a surefire new
Aug
It was the hard launch heard round the lesbian world: Lucy Dacus confirmed her long-rumored relationship with collaborator and boygenius bandmate Julien Baker in an interview with The New Yorker in March. Forever Is a Feeling, finds the introspective singer-songwriter solidly in her lovergirl era, with swoony, intimate queer ballads like “Best Guess” (a surefire new sapphic wedding standard) and “Ankles.” Guests on the album include tourmate Jay Som, as well as Hozier, Bartees Strange, Madison Cunningham, Blake Mills, Baker, and fellow boygenius member Phoebe Bridgers. Remlinger Farms will provide a bucolic background for Dacus’s romantic musings and vulnerable lyrics. Remlinger Farms, 5 pm, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
( Lucy Dacus
10, Remlinger Farms
BRYAN BEDDER/GETTY IMAGES FOR AFROPUNK
SHERVIN LAINEZ
Waxahatchee
Waxahatchee
AUG 10
I first became acquainted with Alabaman singer-songwriter Katie Crutchfield (aka Waxahatchee) through her fifth album, Saint Cloud—I’ll admit, I was late to the party. My love of jangly Camera Obscura–esque tracks like “Can’t Do Much” compelled me to give the entire album a listen, but it was reflective folk-rock songs like “St. Cloud” and “Lilacs” that made me a fan. After four years of me playing the album to death, Waxahatchee dropped a follow-up last year, Tigers Blood, which leans deeper into a country sound with love songs that she describes as “gritty and unromantic.” Crutchfield is also known for her iconic covers of pop trash like Jessica Simpson’s “With You” and, most recently, the Fray’s “You Found Me”—here’s hoping they make it into the setlist. Don’t miss an opening set from Andy Shauf’s folk-rock quintet Foxwarren. (Woodland Park Zoo, 4:30 pm) AUDREY VANN
Ethel Cain
AUG 12–13
As her Southern Gothic stage persona Ethel Cain, Florida-born artist Hayden Silas Anhedönia makes music that sounds like Flannery O’Connor by way of Lana Del Rey. Having been raised in a Southern Baptist family with a deacon as a father, she certainly has a wealth of material to draw from when it comes to the fanatical, the grotesque, and the unsettling, which she plumbed on her instant-cult-favorite studio debut, the concept album Preacher’s Daughter. The record doesn’t shy away from dark themes like incest, cannibalism, sexual violence, intergenerational trauma, and death. Now, she’s following it up with her highly anticipated sophomore album, Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You, which will serve as a prequel of sorts to Preacher’s Daughter. Her devotees, who call
themselves the Daughters of Cain, are sure to line up in droves for her two-night run at the Paramount— expect lots of camo and frilly Picnic at Hanging Rock–esque white gowns. (Paramount Theatre, 8 pm, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
Ravi Coltrane
AUG 21–24
As a longtime admirer of jazz innovators John and Alice Coltrane, I often sulk at the reality that I will never get to see them perform live (Alice passed away back in 2007, and John in 1967). And, given the mercurial nature of free jazz, I’ve had to accept that their studio albums and live recordings are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the genius they individually offered the mortal world. Thankfully, their offspring Ravi Coltrane carries on the family legacy by sharing his parents’ otherworldly compositions and free-flowing style. (Jazz Alley, times vary, 21+) AUDREY VANN
Daniel Menche, enereph, unnunned, Cígvë
AUGUST 23
Portland’s Daniel Menche has become the grand old man of Pacific Northwest noise and dark, metallic ambient. No wonder many of the world’s elite abstract-sound manipulators have tapped him for collaborations (Kevin Drumm, Aaron Turner, KK Null, etc.). Menche’s Bandcamp holds 120 releases, so it’s hard to sum up his canon with authority. But his most recent release, Concrete Sines, embraces the stern drones, unsettling field recordings, and long-form sonic spelunking that have marked much of his work—which, on good headphones, evokes existential horror. Seattle’s enereph (aka Connie Fu) is an electronic musician who’s been on a constant creative ascent since appearing on the scene in 2020. Last year’s Immortal Mirth represents her recorded peak, combining elegantly complex beats with otherworldly textures and disorienting dynamics. That being said, “Numbers Fall from Stars” is as icily beautiful as anything early Aphex Twin has done. It’s likely that enereph has concocted some even more highly evolved tracks for your ears at the city’s best-sounding haven for experimental music. (Chapel Performance Space, 7 pm, all ages) DAVE SEGAL
Hunx and His Punx
AUG 26
Seth Bogart’s California-based garage band Hunk and His Punx, which also includes Shannon Shaw (Shannon & the Clams) and Erin Emslie (Secret Stare) in its current incarnation, sounds like a lost ’60s bubblegum girl group plucked straight out of a John Waters movie—they’ve even performed for the Pope of Trash himself at his birthday party. The band
YUME NAKAJIMA
JAMES KLUG/GETTY IMAGES
iroiro Aug 28, Triple Door
Horsegirl
AUG 20
Not to be confused with the German DJ and musician HorsegiirL, who wears a horse mask to conceal her identity, Horsegirl is a Chicago-based indie-rock band made up of singer-guitarist Nora Cheng, singer-guitarist Penelope Lowenstein, and drummer Gigi Reece. Welsh singer-songwriter Cate Le Bon lent her production magic to their latest album, Phonetics On and On , which was recorded in Wilco’s studio the Loft in the dead of a frosty Illinois winter. The group combines crystalline harmonies and tight-as-hell guitars with hooky pop compositions that lodge themselves deep in your brain. If you share my affinity for bands like Electrelane, the Raincoats, and Look Blue Go Purple, you won’t be able to stop listening. ( Neumos, 7 pm, all ages ) JULIANNE BELL
members have dealt with their fair share of heartbreak in the last few years, as Shaw lost her fiancé, Joe Haener, in a tragic fatal car accident in 2022, and most of Bogart’s neighborhood was destroyed by the Altadena fires in January. Walk Out on This World, their first album in 12 years, comes out this month, and it’s just what we all needed to traverse these wretched times: a Valley of the Dolls–esque spree filled with motorcycle-riding bad boys, white lipstick, and acid-warped trips through Hollywood. (The Clock-Out Lounge, 8 pm, 21+) JULIANNE BELL
bloococoon, iroiro
AUGUST 28
Led by former Black Nite Crash member Sharim, bloococoon rose out of the ashes of a shattering relationship breakup and COVID-isolation blues. The guitarist/vocalist sought therapy in music, specifically
a broken-heart-on-tattered-sleeve brand of shoegaze rock, which he and his bandmates (ex-BNC bassist Jasun Hadaway, J. Weichman, and drummer Andrea Volpato—since replaced by Matthew Cooke) finessed into their self-titled 2024 debut LP. If you ever shivered to Ride’s dulcet melodies or swooned to Swervedriver’s beautiful brawniness, you’ll dig this local foursome’s melancholy anthems. Fellow Seattle quartet iroiro feature IQU synthesist Michiko Swiggs and guitarist/Theremin maestro Kento Oiwa; they create psychedelia that toggles between coolness and flammability, with habitual side trips into motorik propulsion that’s powered by drummer Justin Schwartz and bassist James Drage. They also do a spine-tingling cover of “Porpoise” by top UK shoegazers Pale Saints. I’ve only seen iroiro perform thrice, but that’s been enough to convince me they’re currently Seattle’s best rock band. (Triple Door, 7:30 pm, all ages) DAVE SEGAL
CHASE MIDDLETON
MUSIC ARBORETUM MUSIC IN
Neil Young and the Chrome Hearts
SEPT 5
Many of us have dated a music dude in his 20s whose favorite album is Neil Young’s On the Beach—it’s like the male equivalent of Joni Mitchell’s Blue or Carole King’s Tapestry. And, while I do like a handful of his songs, I’ll leave it to my resident Youngian boyfriend to tell you why you need to see the Godfather of Grunge: “Um, because he rocks.” If that isn’t a convincing enough reason for you to drive to Woodinville this summer, take the fact that Neil has been pulling out Buffalo Springfield and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young songs for this tour, along with seminal solo tracks like “Harvest Moon,” “Heart of Gold,” and “Old Man.” (Chateau Ste Michelle, 5 pm) AUDREY VANN
Marina
SEPT 6
The year was 2015, I was a recent college graduate navigating the perils and pitfalls of my early 20s, and Marina Lambrini Diamandis, better known at the time by her stage name Marina and the Diamonds, was the reigning queen of Tumblr. The rainbow-tinged, disco-inspired cover of her album Froot was all over my dashboard, and I immediately became enamored with Marina’s husky, dramatic pop diva vocals and sugary synths. I’ve been a fan—excuse me, a “Diamond”—ever since. Diamandis, who goes mononymously by Marina these days, has released delightfully campy, danceable singles like “Butterfly” and “Cuntissimo” in the last year. She’ll be joined on her Princess of Power tour by the irresistible alt-hip-hop duo Coco & Clair Clair. (Showbox SoDo, 7:30 pm, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
More
THING Fest Aug 2, Aug 9, Aug 23, Remlinger Farms (The Aug 16 all-Latin date was cancelled due to ICE concerns; fuck ICE.)
Less Than Jake, Fishbone, the Suicide Machines, Catbite Aug 5, Showbox Sodo, 7 pm, all ages
Paul Simon: A Quiet Celebration Tour Aug 5–6, McCaw Hall, 7:30 pm, all ages
Colleen Green, Rozwell Kid Aug 6, Black Lodge, 7 pm, all ages
LCD Soundsystem, TV on the Radio Aug 7–8, Remlinger Farms, 6 pm, all ages
Dinosaur Jr., Snail Mail, Easy Action Aug 8, Chateau Ste. Michelle, 6:30 pm, all ages
Sea Lemon, Tomo Nakayama, Nathan Reed Aug 8, Tractor, 8 pm (See preview, pg. 27.)
Mood Swing: DJs Jordana aka Lady J, Bimbo Hypnosis, Ramos, Jelz, and Guests Aug 9, Chop Suey, 9 pm, 21+
Maren Morris: The Dreamsicle Tour Aug 10, Chateau Ste. Michelle, 7 pm, all ages
Nine Inch Nails Aug 12, Climate Pledge Arena, 7:30 pm, all ages
Anila Quayyum Agha: Geometry of Light
AUG 27–APRIL 19, 2026
Playing with shadows and light, Pakistani-American artist Anila Quayyum Agha uses South Asian art practices to convey the darkest and brightest parts of her life, including the gender discrimination she faced during her childhood in Pakistan. The installations are at once delicate and industrial, consisting of suspended, laser-cut steel cubes that project intricate patterns on everything around them, making the viewer a part of the art. For me, Agha’s work evokes deeply cozy childhood memories of paper lanterns, shadow puppets, and paper snowflakes. (Seattle Asian Art Museum) AUDREY VANN
Phantogram, STRFKR Marymoor Park, Aug 12, 6 pm, all ages
Away with Words, Miracle, Cherub Chains, Cottonmouth, Guilt, Foxglove Aug 15, Vera Project, 7 pm, all ages (See Asian Verified, pg. 32.)
Kali Uchis Aug 15 Climate Pledge Arena, 8 pm, all ages
Alabama Shakes Aug 16, Climate Pledge Arena, 7 pm, all ages
The Lumineers Aug 16, T-Mobile Park, 8 pm, all ages
Femi Kuti & the Positive Force Aug 16, Neptune Theatre, 8 pm, all ages
Cyndi Lauper: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Farewell Tour Aug 19, White River Amphitheatre, 7:30 pm, all ages
South Sound Block Party: L7, Bratmobile, and more August 22–23, the Port of Olympia, all ages
Layne Staley Tribute Aug 23, Neptune Theatre, 8 pm, all ages
Wilco Aug 24–25, Woodland Park Zoo, 6 pm, all ages
Stardew Valley: Symphony of Seasons Aug 29–31, Benaroya Hall, times vary, all ages
The Psychedelic Furs, Gary Numan Sept 13, Showbox, 8 pm, 21+
Modest Mouse Presents: Psychedelic Salamander Festival Sept 13–14, Remlinger Farms, 12:30 pm, all ages
Aminé: Tour De Dance Sept 16, WAMU Theater, 7 pm, all ages
HAIM, Dora Jar Sept 18, WAMU Theater, 7:30 pm, all ages
Grandaddy Sept 18, Neptune Theatre, 7 pm, all ages
Mac DeMarco Sept 23, Paramount Theatre, 7:30 pm, all ages
Sparks: Mad! Tour Sept 24, Moore Theatre, 7 pm, all ages
Judy Collins Sept 27, Edmonds Center for the Arts, 7:30 pm, all ages
Princess Nokia & Big Freedia Sept 27, Pier 62, 6:30 pm, all ages
Pup, Jeff Rosenstock, Ekko Astral Oct 7, Showbox SoDo, 7:30 pm, all ages
Garbage, Starcrawler Oct 15, Paramount Theatre, 8 pm, all ages
Frankie Cosmos Oct 17, The Crocodile, 6 pm, all ages
Stereolab, Bitchin Bajas Oct 18, Neptune Theatre, 7 pm, all ages
Lorde: Ultrasound Tour Oct 22, Climate Pledge Arena, 7 pm, all ages
Destroyer: Dan’s Boogie Tour Oct 25, The Crocodile, 5 pm, 21+
Shonen Knife, the Pack A.D. Oct 25, Tractor, 8:30 pm, 21+
Freakout Festival: Melt-Banana, Liz Cooper, Wine Lips, and more Nov 6–9, various locations, 21+
Belly: 30th Anniversary of King Nov 9, The Crocodile, 6 pm, 21+
Patti Smith: Horses 50th Anniversary Tour Nov 10, Paramount Theatre, 7 pm, all ages
David Byrne Nov 11–13, Paramount Theatre, 6:30 pm, all ages
Neko Case Nov 14, Paramount Theatre, 7 pm, all ages
Lola Young Dec 2, WAMU Theater, 7 pm, all ages
The Mountain Goats Dec 3–4, Neptune Theatre, all ages
VISUAL ART
Tattoo Expo
AUG 15–17
Bumbershoot 2025: Arts and Music Festival Aug 30–31, Seattle Center, all ages
Wet Leg, Mary in the Junkyard Sept 1–2, Paramount Theatre, 6:30 pm, all ages
Japanese Breakfast, Ginger Root Sept 2–3, Woodland Park Zoo
Lil Wayne: Tha Carter VI Tour Sept 3, Climate Pledge Arena, 8 pm, all ages
Early Warnings
Osees Sept 5–6, Neumos, times and age-ranges vary
BADBADNOTGOOD Sept 5, The Showbox, 7:30 pm, 21+
MARINA: The Princess of Power Tour Sept 6, Showbox SoDo, 7:30 pm, all ages
W.I.T.C.H. Sept 8, Tractor, 7 pm, 21+
Jackson Browne Sept 12–13, Chateau Ste. Michelle, 5 pm, all ages
Viagra Boys Sept 12–13, Showbox SoDo, all ages
The Pacific Northwest is a legendary province for permanently decorated flesh, but it’s not the only one. This three-day expo hosted by Hidden Hand Tattoo and Supergenius Tattoo features professional ink-givers from all over the world, including artists from local parlors like Tattoo Pizzazz, Electric Kitten Tattoo, Stairs Tattoo, and Rabbit and Thorn Tattoo, plus visiting artists from the UK’s Fulcrum Tattoo, France’s Jubsyking, and Australia’s Lovesick, just to name a few. The three-day expo promises the chance to see displays, attend seminars, and even get yourself inked up by the right artist for you. (Seattle Center Exhibition Hall, times vary) AUDREY VANN
STEVE WATSON
‘Latin American Land/Escapes’
THROUGH AUG 22
As a partnership between Seattle’s own SOIL and Mexico City’s Tlaxcala3, Latin American Land/ Escapes compiles works from 14 contemporary Latin American artists across Mexico, Chile, Perú, Colombia, Ecuador, Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic. Aiming to “[encompass] a political-poetic exercise of reflection and problematization,” the works dive into the limitations of concepts like “territory” and “landscape,” as well as the warped image of the Latin American landscape imagined by the North. (SOIL, free) AUDREY VANN
Kameelah Janan Rasheed: ‘we leak, we exceed’
AUG 23–APRIL 26, 2026
Brooklyn-based artist (or, as she describes herself, “learner”) Kameelah Janan Rasheed’s exhibit we leak, we exceed draws parallels between the compression of information and the containment of people, specifically calling for “the embrace of Black excess and expansion.” Rasheed’s multimedia works integrate found images and words woven together with her writing to create collage-like wall installations and experimental video art. One example of this is her 2024 piece i want to climb inside every
Chuck Tingle Presents: ‘Lucky Day’
AUG 20
Chuck Tingle might just be the Elena Ferrante of the niche gay erotica world: His true identity remains a mystery, and he maintains his anonymity by wearing sunglasses and a pink sack over his head with the words “love is real” Sharpied on it. As if that’s not absurd enough, his books feature crude DIY Photoshop covers, often involve abstract concepts and inanimate objects as characters, and bear titles like Taken by the Gay Unicorn Biker. The pseudonymous bicon broke into horror with his 2023 conversion therapy camp thriller Camp Damascus, which was nominated for a Bram Stoker Award, followed by last year’s Hollywood slasher Bury Your Gays Both books wielded urgent messages about homophobia and a surprising amount of heart amid all the gore. Meet the man, the myth, the legend at this event promoting his latest, Lucky Day, a “glittering absurdist romp through existential horror, love, and Las Vegas.” (Third Place Books Lake Forest Park, 7–8:30 pm, all ages, free) JULIANNE BELL
word and lick the salty neck of each letter, which encapsulates the viewer into a black-and-white grid that feels like you’re inside the World Wide Web. Atop the grid are projected photographs, physical prints, a fishing hook, and collected soil. (Henry Art Gallery, free) AUDREY VANN
More
Ezra Dickinson: Who’s Offended Through Aug 22, Base Camp Studios 2, free
Ai, Rebel: The Art and Activism of Ai Weiwei Through Sept 7, Seattle Art Museum
Carmen Winant: Passing On Through Sept 25, Henry Art Gallery, Thurs–Sun, suggested donation
Hugh Hayden: American Vernacular Through Sept 28, Frye Art Museum, free
Boren Banner Series: Tarrah Krajnak Through Sept 28, Frye Art Museum
Asian Comics: Evolution of an Art Form Through Jan 4, 2026, MoPOP
Tariqa Waters: Venus Is Missing Through Jan 4, 2026, Seattle Art Museum, Wed–Sun
Ash-Glazed Ceramics from Korea and Japan Through July 12, 2027, Seattle Art Museum
Ai Weiwei: Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads (Bronze) Through Oct 2027, Olympic Sculpture Park, free
Ten Thousand Things Through Spring 2027, Wing Luke Museum
Gossip: Between Us Opens Aug 9, Tacoma Art Museum
Mary Finlayson: Orange, Violet Aug 20–Oct 11, Winston Wächter Fine Art
Woven in Wool: Resilience in Coast Salish Weaving Sept 13–Aug 30, 2026, Burke Museum
Early Warnings
Rodney McMillian: Neighbors Opens Oct 4, Henry Art Gallery, free
Boren Banner Series: Camille Trautman Opens Oct 15, Frye Art Museum, free
Priscilla Dobler Dzul: Water Carries the Stories of Our Stars Opens Oct 18, Frye Art Museum, free Farm to Table: Art, Food, and Identity in the Age of Impressionism Opens Oct 23, Seattle Art Museum
LITERATURE
Rax King Presents ‘Sloppy: Or: Doing It All Wrong’
AUG 11
Like many readers, I first fell in love with Rax King’s writing via her insightful, moving pop-culture essay “Love, Peace, and Taco Grease: How I Left My Abusive Husband and Found Guy Fieri,” which details how she overcame her toxic, controlling marriage while finding uninhibited joy in the larger-than-life persona of the Mayor of Flavortown. Her 2021 debut essay collection, Tacky: Love Letters to the Worst Culture We Have to Offer, presents “a nostalgia-soaked antidote to the millennial generation’s obsession with irony,” exploring the hidden side of everything from Sex and the City to the Cheesecake Factory. Now, her new book, Sloppy: Or: Doing It All Wrong, picks up where her last book left off, examining “sobriety, begrudging self-improvement, and the habits we cling to with clenched fists.” (Third Place Books Ravenna, 7–8:30 pm, all ages, free) JULIANNE BELL
Claire Jia with Jane Wong: ‘WANTING’
AUG 12
LA-based author Claire Jia’s debut novel, WANTING follows a young woman named Ye Lian living in Beijing. Her life is stable—she has a grown-up job, a marriage-material boyfriend, and plans to live in a luxury high-rise. Basically, all is dandy until her old friend Luo Wenyu comes back into her life like a wrecking ball after a decade spent in California. Wenyu’s seemingly glamorous life as an influencer, fiancée of a millionaire, and mansion resident sends Lian spiralling about her responsible life choices. The novel explores something I think about often: What’s better, a life of stable domesticity or chaotic exploration? Jia will be joined by poet, memoirist, and Western Washington University professor Jane Wong to discuss the book. (Elliott Bay Book Company, 6:30 pm, free) AUDREY VANN
Writers With Drinks: Superstars of Queer Sci-Fi/ Fantasy
AUG 14
San Francisco–based queer fantasy writer Charlie Jane Anders has been producing her legendary Writers with Drinks variety show for two decades, and this month, she’s bringing it to Seattle. Anders is always the MC, offering delightfully unhinged introductions to every reader. In Seattle, she’s bringing a deep bench with her: her partner and many-award-w inning science/sci-fi writer Annalee Newitz; bi-gender, biracial, bisexual author of Daron’s Guitar Chronicles Cecilia Tan; Apache oceanographer and novelist Darcie Little Badger; scientist and hoodoo conjurer Andrea Hairston; and author of the Wayfarers series, Becky Chambers. “After a Writers with Drinks show, the fabric of reality will have looser stitches,” Anders promises, “and a bit more frilly lace on the edges.” (Town Hall, 7:30 pm) HANNAH MURPHY WINTER
Isabel Cañas with
Sadie Hartmann: ‘The Possession of Alba Díaz’
AUG 19
In my opinion, it’s never too early to start celebrating Halloween. I’m trying to savor the waning days of summer before the chill sets in, but I’m already excited to embrace all things macabre in just a couple of months’ time, so local speculative fiction author Isabel Cañas’s new gothic horror novel The Possession of Alba Díaz is right on schedule. The book is set during a plague in 18th-century Zacatecas, Mexico, and follows the story of Alba, a woman seized by a malevolent demon, and Elías, her wealthy fiancé’s cousin. The star-crossed pair becomes “entangled with the occult, the Church, long-kept secrets, and each other… not knowing that one of these things will spell their doom.” Fans of Robert Eggers’s Nosferatu and Silvia
COURTESY OF CHUCK TINGLE
Ellen Forney Aug 14, Ada’s Technical Books and Cafe
Moreno-Garcia’s bestselling novel Mexican Gothic won’t want to miss Cañas’s conversation with author Sadie Hartmann, aka “Mother Horror.” (Seattle Central Library, 7–8:30 pm, all ages, free) JULIANNE BELL
More
Tonight in Jungleland: The Making of Born to Run by Peter Ames Carlin with Cheryl Waters Aug 5, Third Place Books Seward Park, 7 pm, free Mazey Eddings with Alison Cochrun: Well, Actually: A Novel Aug 7, 7 pm, Third Place Books Lake Forest Park, free
Annalee Newitz with Ryan Calo: Automatic Noodle Aug 11, 7 pm, Third Place Books Lake Forest Park, free Ellen Forney’s Book Launch Party: The Adventures of You! Aug 14, 6–8 pm, The Lab at Ada’s Technical Books and Cafe, free
Cal Hoffman with Charles Cutugno: Easy to Slip: A Novel Aug 13, 7 pm, Third Place Books Ravenna, free
Jake Maia Arlow with Sujin Witherspoon: Leaving the Station Aug 19, 7 pm, Third Place Books Ravenna, free
Charlie Jane Anders Presents Lessons in Magic and Disaster Aug 25, Third Place Books Lake Forest Park, 7 pm, free
R.F. Kuang Sept 12, Town Hall Seattle, 7:30 pm
Early Warnings
David Sedaris Nov 16, Benaroya Hall, 7 pm
PERFORMANCE
Kyle Mooney: The Real Me / Fake Me Tour
AUG 15
The old Kyle Mooney can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because he’s dead! The San Diego–born comedian of SNL fame has rebranded as “Kyle M,” a very serious and not-funny-at-all singer-songwriter (or so he says). On his debut album, The Real Me, the earnest lyrics and off-tempo delivery evoke a child with a microphone at a family gathering who sheepishly sings for the crowd, making up the words as they go along. Although recorded music is a new venture for him, the project taps into all of the things that made him a comedy success in the first place: dry humor, childlike whimsy, and a delivery that’s so serious, you question what’s a joke and what’s not. (Showbox, 6 pm, all ages) AUDREY VANN
Isabel Hagen
AUG 31
Not many people can say that they have worked with Björk and performed a stand-up routine about threesomes on The Tonight Show, but for Juilliard-trained comedian Isabel Hagen, it’s just another day in the life. I was lucky enough to see her at Laughs Comedy Club a few years ago and was immediately charmed by her sincerity and humorous yet honest reflections on relationships. And it might be Hagen’s visual and vocal similarities to Greta Gerwig, but I found her to be immediately engaging and likable. If you’re a stand-up comedy skeptic, I think you will find her set to be refreshingly self-aware. (Here-After, 6 pm & 8 pm, 21+) AUDREY VANN
JT+ANDERSON
START YOUR DAY SMARTER.
Josh Johnson: The Flowers Tour
AUGUST 22–23
Stand-up comedian Josh Johnson’s delivery is as smooth as his baby face. But don’t mistake appearances and vocal mannerisms for innocuousness. As a Black man with an admittedly “white” voice, Johnson possesses keen, distinctive insights on race that can range from pragmatically ruthless to absurd (let’s hope he does the bit about an old white lady clutching her purse tighter when he enters the elevator). And his acute, left-leaning wit has earned him a lengthy stint as a writer/correspondent on The Daily Show, a writing gig for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, and the respect of Trevor Noah, for whom he opened on the Loud & Clear and Back to Abnormal tours. Johnson’s humor arises out of rigorous,
Josh Johnson Aug 22–23,
cohesive narratives rather than several short, sharp punch lines per minute, resulting in a cumulative, delayed-gratification hilarity. One example is a routine about how hard it is for straight men to make male friends, which turns into a sly dissection of traditional masculinity’s foibles. Come for the nuanced antiTrump observations, stay for the perceptive takes on racism. (Moore Theatre, 7 pm & 9:30 pm Friday; 4 pm Saturday, all ages) DAVE SEGAL
More
Shadows Under the Market Aug 1–9, Seattle Public Theater, times vary, all ages
After Midnight Aug 5–Aug 24, 5th Avenue Theatre, times vary, all ages
Parable of KinOptics by D. Sabela Grimes Aug 9, 12th Ave Arts, 7:30 pm
“Weird Al” Yankovic: Bigger & Weirder Tour Aug 15, White River Amphitheater, 8 pm, all ages
What the Funk?!: An All BIPOC Burlesque Festival Aug 21–23, Triple Door, 7:30 pm, 17+
Steve Martin & Martin Short Aug 22–23, Paramount Theatre, times vary, all ages
Jurassic Parking Lot Aug 22–Sept 14, Seattle Public Theater, times vary, all ages with mature content
The Disabled List Aug 23, Northwest Film Forum, 7 pm, all ages
The Play That Goes Wrong Aug 28–Sept 28, Seattle Rep, times vary, all ages
Taylor Tomlinson Sept 5–7, McCaw Hall, times vary, all ages
Hari Kondabolu Sept 5–7, Here-After, times vary, 21+
‘Polyester’ (in Odorama)
AUG 12
Setting out to make a “movie that really stunk,” reigning king of filth John Waters took inspiration from the 1960s theater gimmick Smell-O-Vision and Douglas Sirk’s jewelbox melodramas for his first movie with an actual budget, Polyester. The film follows Baltimore housewife Francine Fishpaw (played by Waters’s trusty muse, Divine) as she turns to alcoholism while dealing with her cheating pornographer husband, badly behaved children, and needy mother, until she meets the man of her dreams, Todd Tomorrow. Just like the film’s initial theatrical release back in 1981, this screening will be enhanced by Odorama, aka scratch-and-sniff cards that include scents like roses, pizza, flatulence, and dirty shoes. (Here-After, 7:30 pm, 21+) AUDREY VANN
Moore Theatre
COURTESY OF JOSH JOHNSON
Stereophonic
Oct 7–12, Paramount Theatre
Early Warnings
Nikki Glaser Sept 12–13, McCaw Hall, 7 pm, all ages
Suffs Sept 13–27, 5th Avenue Theatre, times vary, all ages
Some Like It Hot Sept 16–21, Paramount Theatre, all ages
Fancy Dancer Sept 18–Nov 2, Seattle Rep, times vary, all ages
An Enemy of the People Sept 20–Oct 5, ACT, times vary, all ages
Demetri Martin Oct 4, Moore Theatre, 5:30 pm, all ages
Stereophonic Oct 7–12, Paramount Theatre, times vary, all ages
Lillian Hellman’s The Little Foxes Oct 15–Nov 2, Erickson Theatre, times vary, 21+
Shrew Oct 18–Nov 2, ACT, times vary, all ages
The Pirates of Penzance Oct 18–Nov 1, McCaw Hall, times vary
Chicago Oct 22–Nov 2, 5th Avenue Theatre, times vary, all ages
Nate Bargatze Nov 6–7, Climate Pledge Arena, 7 pm
FILM
CatVideoFest 2025
AUG 8–10
My phone’s storage is constantly full because I have approximately 10,000 hours of footage taken of my giant long-haired tuxedo cat, Whisper. For me, everything that Whisper does is worth documenting, and I know I am not alone because CatVideoFest exists. Each year, crazy cat owners submit their favorite feline footage—spanning animation, music videos, viral classics, and home movies—to be screened in theaters as a part of a giant compilation reel. The best part is that funds are donated to cats in need through partnerships with local cat charities, animal welfare organizations, and shelters. (SIFF Cinema Uptown, times vary) AUDREY VANN
Truth to Fiction: ‘Shakedown’
AUG 16
Few films can boast the distinction of having streamed on both Pornhub and the Criterion Channel, but that’s exactly what director Leilah Weinraub’s 2018 documentary Shakedown did. The movie, which became “the first ever non-adult film” to appear on Pornhub in March 2020, chronicles
the rise and fall of the underground Black lesbian strip club of the same name in Los Angeles from 2002–2004, when it met an untimely demise due to police cracking down on nude dancers. Shakedown has garnered comparisons to the 1990 classic Paris Is Burning and offers a rare glimpse of a spot that granted its community access to Black queer joy and unfettered sexual liberation. As one subject says, “Some places are just hard to find.” (Northwest Film Forum, 7 pm) JULIANNE BELL
More
Movies at the Mural Fridays through Aug 22, Mural Amphitheatre, all ages, movies begin at dusk (about 9 pm)
To Live Is to Dream: A Northwest Tribute to David Lynch Through Aug 17, various locations www.rachelormont.com Aug 6, Here-After, 8 pm, 21+
Eastlake Outdoor Movie Nights: The One I Love Aug 7, Fairview Park, 8:15 pm Taxi zum Klo Aug 8–11, The Beacon, times vary
Life After Aug 14, Northwest Film Forum, 6:30 pm Sudan, Remember Us Aug 17–18, The Beacon, times vary
Rimas Tuminas’s ‘War and Peace’ Aug 24, Northwest Film Forum, 4 pm
Silent Movie Mondays: The Freshman Aug 25, Paramount Theatre, 7 pm
But I’m a Cheerleader Aug 26, Here-After, 7:30 pm, 21+
CatVideoFest 2025
Aug 8–10, SIFF Cinema Uptown
JULIETA CERVANTES
Early Warnings
L.A. Noir: Shadows in Paradise Sept 10–Nov 12, SIFF Cinema Uptown, times vary
Twilight in Concert Sept 13, Paramount Theatre, 2 pm and 7:30 pm, all ages
Death Becomes Her Sept 16, Here-After, 6:30 pm, 21+
2025 SIFF Marquee Gala Sept 18, Fremont Studios, 6:30 pm
20th Tasveer Film Festival & Market Oct 8–12, Tasveer Film Center
Twin Peaks: A Conversation with the Stars Oct 19, Neptune Theatre, 6 pm, all ages
The Rocky Horror Picture Show: 50th Anniversary Oct 28, Paramount Theatre, 7:30 pm
FOOD
Farm Dinner Series: Feast in the Field
AUG 9
It doesn’t get much more “farm-to-table” than sitting down to a communal dinner in a field at the farm where the ingredients were sourced. This event at the idyllic Carnation Farms will kick off with a tour of the premises led by Director of Agriculture Eric Popp, followed by a multi-course meal prepared by award-winning chef Ben Vaughn, the founder and CEO of the nonprofit culinary training initiative Sow Project in Tennessee. Look forward to pasture-raised lamb and beef, freshly picked organic produce, and curated wine pairings to complement each dish. (Carnation Farms, 5–9 pm) JULIANNE BELL
CHOMP!
AUG 16
Get playful with local food at this free festival at Marymoor Park’s pastoral Willowmoor Farm. You’ll get to peruse a farmers market, browse a bazaar of upcycled goods from local makers, clamber up an oak tree named Alice, compete in a focaccia bake-off, participate in a scavenger hunt, compete in quirky “zucchini races,” pet adorable animals at a petting zoo, fashion your own musical instruments out of fruits and veggies for a parade, and more. The music lineup doesn’t disappoint, either—take in performances from the legendary former Pixies member and Breeders frontwoman Kim Deal, the new Rocky Votolato-fronted trio Suzzallo, prog rockers Bearaxe, “surftinged cosmic soul” project Nada Rosa, jazz-rock-pop foursome Trevor Eulau Quartet, and educational kids’ music duo Bug Friend. Rat Queen vocalist Jeff Tapia will host the sustainable festivities. (Willowmoor Farm at Marymoor Park, 10 am–6 pm, free, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
Alki Beach Pride
AUG 16
Alki Beach’s annual Pride celebration didn’t exist when I was a queer questioning teenager growing up in West Seattle, but I truly wish it had. It isn’t that I felt unwelcome or unsafe to explore my sexuality—it is Seattle, after all—but I suspect that seeing familiar faces (teachers, classmates, neighbors, local business owners, etc.) celebrating Pride would have created less suspicion about who would be supportive. I also love that Alki Pride takes over the beach in August—two months after Pride Month—because many families and passersby who were just expecting another day at the beach will witness (or hopefully join) the festivities. This family-friendly event will include a variety of LGBTQ musicians and DJs (including the Rainbow City Marching Band), local food vendors, and handcrafted goods. (Alki Beach, noon, free) AUDREY VANN
WA State Garlic Fest
AUG 22–24
Vampires, be warned: This three-day festival goes all out with food, music, arts, and crafts to celebrate the legendary “stinking rose,” otherwise known as garlic. Enjoy delightfully pungent, allium-spiked specials such as garlic pizza, garlic falafel, garlicky buttered corn, deep-fried garlic, smoked garlic heads, garlic ice cream, garlic shaved ice, and garlic Cajun seafood boils. Just be sure to bring some breath mints along. Tip: Check out director Les Blank’s quirky 1980 documentary Garlic Is as Good as Ten Mothers to get excited about garlic’s rich culture before you go. (Centralia, WA, times vary, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
More
Ballard Farmers Market Every Sunday, Ballard Ave, 9 am–noon, free
Capitol Hill Farmers Market Every Sunday, E Denny Way and Nagle Pl, 11 am–3 pm, free
West Seattle Farmers Market Every Sunday, Alaska Junction, 10 am–2 pm, free
THIS &THAT
Flock Fiber Festival
AUG 8–10
As an obsessive knitter, I am beyond giddy to attend Flock Fiber Festival, which could be considered the Coachella of the Pacific Northwest fiber arts scene. Knitters, crocheters, weavers, and other fiber artists from far and wide congregate at this annual yarn show to caress and coo over gorgeous skeins from a variety of vendors. Attendees can also grow their skills with expert-led classes and connect with fellow fiber lovers at community events. I’m excited to check out the colorful indie dyer Superglō Fiber, the witchy Portland-based shop Ritual Dyes, Bellingham’s yarnworld-famous “sheep-to-skein” spinners Spincycle Yarns, Montana-based producer the Farmer’s Daughter Fibers, pastel-hued Brooklyn brand the Wandering Flock, the cool-girl stitch marker supplier Mabel & Jess, and so much more. Stock up on supplies for some fun, cozy projects to see you through the Seattle fall and winter. (Seattle Convention Center Summit Building, times vary, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
KEXP BBQ
AUG 15
Cue Wendy Rene’s “Bar-B-Q!” After a 13-year hiatus, KEXP is reviving its beloved summer tradition. Enjoy live performances from psychedelic soul king Curtis Harding, local instrumental troupe True Loves, Cameroon-born indie-rock artist Vagabon, rock trio Monsterwatch, and more, along with sets from KEXP DJs, refreshing brews, and of course, delicious BBQ grub from Tomo, Seattle Samosas, and Seattle Pops. ( KEXP Courtyards, 2 pm, free for kids under 12 ) AUDREY VANN
Smol Art Mart
AUG 16–17
Four local artists—Mel of Miss Melbear, Nico of Niicomode, Ang of Pikarar, and Phong of Poiibo—are the brains behind this scrappy, spirited annual arts and crafts fair, which started out in 2023 with the goal of providing an accessible community for new and veteran artists alike. The nonprofit operation has gone from featuring around 15 vendors per event to over 150 and is now gearing up for this event at Magnuson Park Hangar 30, its largest venue yet. Besides browsing, you can spice up your boring old clothes with screen printing and participate in activities like a scavenger stamp hunt, Polaroid portrait drawings, and coloring stations. (Magnuson Park Hangar 30, noon–6 pm, free, all ages) JULIANNE BELL
More
Fremont Sunday Market Every Sunday, Evanston Ave N and N 34th St, 10 am–4 pm, free
Early Warnings
Samin Nosrat Oct 14, Benaroya Hall
Drag Bingo with Sativa Every Friday, Rough & Tumble, 7 pm, all ages
The Washington Midsummer Renaissance Faire Saturdays & Sundays through Aug 17, Sky Meadows Park
Sound Bath with Semi Woo Wednesdays through Sept 24, 7:15 pm, free
Seattle Mariners 2025 Home Games Through Sept 28, T-Mobile Park
Seattle Reign FC 2025 Home Games Through Oct 17, Lumen Field
Washington State Fair 2025 Aug 29–Sept 21, Washington State Fair Events Center, all ages
Bremerton Blackberry Festival Aug 30–Sept 1, Bremerton Boardwalk, all ages
Monster Jam Sept 19–21, Tacoma Dome
Early Warnings
Collections Spotlight: Bicycles Opens Oct 18, Museum of History & Industry
Kickstands Up! 125 Years of Motorcycling in the PNW Opens Nov 28, Museum of History & Industry
COURTESY OF ALKI BEACH PRIDE
YULIYA TABA/GETTY IMAGES
BARBARA RICH/GETTY IMAGES
WA State Garlic Fest Aug 22–24 , Centralia, WA
SEATTLE ROCK ORCHESTRA
DAVID BOWIE OCT. 25, 2025
THE BEATLES MAY 9, 2026
LAS CAFETERAS
“HASTA LA MUERTE” NOV. 5, 2025
MANUAL CINEMA
“THE FOURTH WITCH” NOV. 12, 2025
MARIACHI SOL DE MEXICO “MERRY ACHI CHRISTMAS” DEC. 9, 2025
SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE!
Music, dance, and so much more coming up in STG’s Performing Arts Series TICKETS ON SALE NOW!
DEGENERATE ART ENSEMBLE
"ANIMA MUNDI"
FEB. 14, 2026
CAMILLE A BROWN & DANCERS "I AM"
MAR. 7, 2026
GORAN BREGOVIC
MAR. 27, 2026
ALVIN AILEY
AMERICAN DANCE THEATER
MAR. 20-22, 2026
DAKHABRAKHA DEC. 13, 2025
SOWETO GOSPEL CHOIR "PEACE" DEC. 18, 2025
WHOSE LIVE ANYWAY?
JAN. 18, 2026
RAVI SHANKAR ENSEMBLE
APR. 6, 2026
COLTRANE 100TH ANNIVERSARY TOUR APR. 14, 2026
HIROMI’S SONICWONDER MAY 5, 2026
2025/2026 PERFORMING ARTS SERIES SPONSORS
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