Doña Pacha

Welcome to the future – like the past, and just as shitty. As the days turn into months and my ability to tolerate the unjust mundanities of everyday life thins with the knowledge of each new COVID-19 strain, this intro section has begun to feel like a method acting experiment in which I try to mimic the frustrations of the music worthy of discussion below. Luckily, we’re not fully there yet – punk is best for exorcising demons, not giving into them – and parody is no way to begin the new year. So, here’s an exercise (the other one – see what I did there, Satanists?) in optimism. One of the best pieces of writerly advice I ever received was not directed at me: a friend, who wrote a very brilliant book about sex and consent, mentioned avoiding modern slang/contemporary conventions in her wr...