The Pioneer Newsletter #28

A newsletter for the weekend.

Requiem for Jameson's

This isn't specifically about Jameson's, the main street Santa Monica bar I've been to more times than I'm proud to admit. Well, I guess I am specifically writing about Jameson's but really, this is about what Jameson's has represented during my six year extended visit in Los Angeles. I’m not sure exactly when I first went to Jameson’s. Probably around six years ago. It's not as much of an Irish Pub as much as it is an American bar inspired by an American Irish pub inspired by an actual Irish Pub. I think Jameson’s used to be named Finn McCools. I guess that name was simply too Irish. But regardless of title, I have trouble going there now six years since my first visit. It forces me to confront an identity crisis almost as concerning as Jameson’s attempting to pass for an Irish pub. I see one of the sticky green corner booths and am immediately reminded of a night I sat there at twenty - dressed like Steve Jobs on Halloween. I read the old UFC poster I’ve already read a thousand times, plastered proudly on the bathroom door as if Connor McGregor is still relevant. I spill a few swigs of beer from one of their comically large plastic cups, too flimsy to carry through the fire hazard of a Saturday afternoon crowd. Every one of these sense memories and repeat occurrences seems to flood my mind simultaneously once stepping through the doors and taking in the first waft of well, Jameson at Jameson’s. The bar is, after all, an easy place to end up in your early 20s. It provides a hearty crowd of people, is conveniently located for any (clutch your pearls) Westsider, and by and large an uncontroversial nighttime starting point for a group of likeminded white dudes in Vans unable to make a decision. The exact type of place you go when consumption is first on the agenda and the rest, you hope, will just fall into place. There's a certain hunger for a place like that at twenty. The type of overstimulating environment where one's personality, style, and drink preference can change by the hour - trying on just about everything until it fits. And once it feels a little snug around the waist, tossing it out for whatever’s next. But then, all of the sudden, nothing is new. You know exactly what room you’re stepping into. What happened at that booth in that year and this high top in another. What you wore that one night that nothing went as planned. What you ordered the night it miraculously did.

So I write to you here far too often in search of new spots to rebuild my weekend repertoire, hoping to gather a collection of destinations more age appropriate. But therein lies the conundrum. I'm twenty five  and absolutely nothing feels appropriate, at least not all at once. Twenty five feels more like an age of divergence. Go out to the bars and watch some friends sneak out at eleven and some stumble out at three. Go out to dinner and watch the high earners order apps, entrees, and cocktails while the plebes take shooters in the bathroom. It’s no longer the age of romanticized excess but not yet the age of romanticized white picket fenced domesticity. It’s the age of well-earned promotions, layoffs, and restarts. Higher education and Eat Pray Love European vacations. The oh shit engagement and the breakups that lead to lady friend group estrangement (take a breath). Are you single and draining your bank account on dating, single and draining your soul on fucking, taken but feeling taken, or taken and taken with it? Wherever you are at 25, you’re trespassing on someone else’s land. Aspiring to live how you imagine someone else naturally would be. Jamesons isn’t for us anymore, most of the time at least. Everyone there just found out the fake I.D. they ordered from the Jiangxi province actually scans. And if not, they might just be staring at some odd green booth or ripped up poster and seeing themselves next to it, with a different haircut, wearing cuffed skinny jeans, sucking down a rum and coke. Remember when you used to order rum and cokes? Remember when you used to rolled your jeans? Well shit, you’ve been coming to Jameson's for a while now. 

Recs

Rewatching Magic Mike (FILM RECONSIDERATION) - I’ve always liked Magic Mike but I will admit, my appreciation of the film always felt a little bit like posturing. I think I wanted to be the but actually it’s about this guy. “It’s not just the male stripper movie, it’s a Steven Sodergoat picture” I’d say while readjusting my indoor scarf. But here’s the thing. If you asked me what I really did like about Magic Mike - I couldn’t tell you much. I like, everyone else in the early 2010s, struggled to form an opinion independent from the cultural orgasm that movie caused. Fast forward to last week. I’m preparing, alongside my co-host of Elevator Pitch, Will Peters and podcaster/editor extraordinaire Gerry Kenah, for our forthcoming episode on Channing Tatum. Naturally, it was time to revisit the 2012 film. I’m here to tell you now, this is one of Sodergoat’s very best. Tatum’s as well. And also, it’s a crime how little we talk about McConaughoat’s beautifully batshit turn as Dallas - metro Tampa’s sultan of strip. Cody Horn shows up - sorta. Alex Pettyfer, while completely out of his league, is sorta perfect because of it. And Matty Bomer is just happy to be there. Magic Mike doesn’t break too much new ground narratively. It’s an excellently told story about a man who’s best at something he’s unsure is best for him - almost a morally reverse telling of Danny Ocean’s journey in Sodergoat’s Oceans Eleven. But it’s not a caper or even a genre film. It’s an indie set in the world of Florida males stirppers and who the hell has thought of doing that before? Too often, movie characters feel inspired by venn diagrams and written by committees in pursuit of a mass marketing world domination. But everything about Magic Mike is instead so obscurely specific, it’s impossible not to be at least fascinated by it. So while I’m sure you remember it raining men and fire fighters and cops and soldiers (stollen valor galore) - give it another watch, now 12 years removed from the phenomenon it caused. You’ll be surprised how introspective the Tatum film is. Just like with Ocean’s, Sodergoat’s style and use of stars invite you in but behind the glitz are serious questions on purpose and identity that’ll keep you intrigued until the end.

Built to Spill (BAND) - Earlier this year, Harness Your Hopes, a b-side from the 90s alt-rock band Pavement blew the fuck up on Tik Tok, making it the band’s most streamed song ever, 26 years after its initial release to relative cult following. This algorithmic tale of latent success feels quite telling of today’s 90s nostalgia. For a time in culture prided on its anti-establishment slacker mentality, it’s quite strange that 90s music, typography, cuts of denim, and whatever else are being reconsidered and revived through automated Spotify playlists and Pinterest boards. I’m not above it myself. That Pavement song kinda hits and I guess I don’t really care that some equation popularized it instead of NME Magazine. So naturally, I’ve gone down the rabbit hole of similar bands from the era and found my way to Built to Spill. They also hit and I don’t care that I started liking them because Apple Music told me you may also like them. You read that correctly. Apple Music. But don’t worry, here they are on Spotify:

Elevator Pitch (PODCAST) - Start spreading the news. Elevator Pitch is a goddamn wagon. Three new episodes since we last spoke. Pick your favorite or PICK ALL THREE and enjoy. You can also find us on Instagram @theelevatorpitchopod where we’ll soon be pivoting to short form with some clipped reels for all of you ADD-riddled movie lovers.

Spreading the word and feedback (YOUR RESPONSIBILITY) - Boy, do I love writing these. BUT…I need all of you to keep spreading the word about it. Also, please let me know if there’re any problems with your email or if you only sometimes receive them. Substack is dead set on making your life harder if you don’t sign up but I believe in the power of this arriving straight to your inbox with no additional work required. See you in a couple weeks…till then.