The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
the fool-side
Thursday, March 31, 2016 — 3B
By BEN ROSENSTOCK and
NATALIE ZAK
Senior Arts Editor and
Daily Community Culture Editor
Editor’s Note: All names have
been changed to vague character
descriptions to protect the identity
and privacy of all individuals who
participated in these interviews.
Except Shelby. Shelby didn’t care.
In an independent bookstore
popular among both students
and
locals,
there
exists
an
exclusive club unbeknownst to
all but a select few students at the
University of Michigan.
When they aren’t spending
their
days
poring
over
the
written
works
of
Nietzsche
and Rimbaud, Michigan’s most
ardent anarchists gather in this
off-campus location and prepare
themselves for an evening of
pure, unadulterated aggression.
Punches and kicks are thrown,
blood runs rampant and casual
conversation
ensues
amongst
members
every
Sunday
and
Wednesday night after the sun
sets and the streets clear.
This is the University’s Fight
Club, an organization absent from
the University’s MaizePages and
governed by seven imperative
rules:
1. You don’t talk about Fight
Club.
2. You DO NOT talk about
Fight Club.
3. If someone says “stop,” taps
out or decides to take a refreshing
water break, the fight is over.
4. One fight at a time. There is
limited space so we can’t destroy
the premises or else we’ll have to
go through the rounds of finding
a new location. And we all know
how long that took last time. I’m
looking at you, Shelby.
5. No shoes, no jewelry and
no children under the age of 13.
6. Fights will go on as long
as they have to. Unless they last
longer than five hours. No one
wants to be here that long.
7. If this is your first time at
Fight Club, you HAVE to fight. If
it’s your second, then here, enjoy a
blueberry scone.
The president of the club,
like all of its members, only
agreed to be interviewed on the
condition that his identity remain
anonymous. When asked about
his year and major for this article,
he referred to himself as both
an LSA senior and a sophomore
in the Stamps School of Art &
Design.
“It’s kind of the first rule of
Fight Club. You can’t talk about
it,” Anonymous President said in
an interview with The Michigan
Daily.
So Daily Arts spoke to him
about it. Having experienced a
dramatic decline in membership
over the past school year, Fight
Club has been forced to abandon
their
holiest
commandments
in
their
desperation
for
fresh,
unbloodied
faces.
As
an
organization
completely
independent from the University,
membership is imperative.
“Every week, someone is in
charge of snacks and someone
else has to lead the recovery
meditation and yoga session,”
Anonymous Member with Nose
Ring said, wiping the blood from
his nose and reaching for a scone.
“We’re
all
about
teamwork,
seeing as we’re entirely self-
funded.”
“We
originally
started
organizing here because the
owner was generous enough to
provide refreshments at their
one-of-a-kind cafe,” Unibrow-
Sporting Anonymous Member
added as she dodged a swing from
an oncoming student, took a kick
to the groin and went crashing to
the floor.
The club was first invented by
Anonymous President in the fall
of 2012.
“I originally got the idea from
a Chuck Palahniuk book,” he said.
“You should really check it out.
It’s called ‘Lullaby.’ ”
Over the years, the University’s
Fight Club has morphed and
changed with its membership.
Beginning as a Pink Floyd cover
band in Anonymous President’s
father’s garage, the club initially
included three other members
besides A.P. himself: Anonymous
Drummer, Anonymous Guitarist
and Anonymous Tambourinist.
“First, we were all about
the music — it was electric,”
Anonymous President said. “But
when (Anonymous Guitarist) got
electrocuted plugging in the amp
one day, everything changed.
We’d never seen anything like it.
After that near-death experience,
all we wanted to do was recreate
that feeling of terror, of energy.”
It wasn’t until Anonymous
Tambourinist
took
a
swing
at
Anonymous
Guitarist
for
suggesting that “maybe he should
turn down his mic, and maybe
take a few steps back, and then
a few more” that the ragtag
group of students realized what
they were searching for — pure,
unadulterated aggression.
And from there, it took off.
Four members soon became three
after losing Anonymous Guitarist
to the Ross School of Business,
and for a moment the creators
considered
giving
up.
Then,
membership began to soar.
“I’m still not completely sure
how people found out about it,
but people just started to show
up to my dad’s house on Thursday
nights,” Anonymous President
said. “I think most of them
were trying to get back to North
Campus, but when they saw us
beating each other up, they sort of
just joined in.”
Hospital fees and eviction
hit the fledgling group like a
bombshell, however, and they
were forced out onto the streets.
It was during this time that the
bitterness started to creep up on
the members, as the Ann Arbor
Police Department repeatedly
intervened in their fights in the
middle of the Diag.
Officer Hoffman, a firsthand
witness to the early meetings
of the group, was reluctant to
divulge information.
“It was a mess,” Hoffman said.
“They were gathering anywhere
they could — the UGLi, the
Diag, Meijer, the First United
Methodist Church of Ann Arbor.
It was all we could do to get them
off campus before they developed
political stances.”
And develop political stances,
they did.
Enraged by the “disrespect
and dismissal” of the Ann Arbor
Police
Department,
Division
of Public Safety and Security
and Neighborhood Watch, The
Periwinkle
Sandal
(a
name
elected by early members of
UMFC) took to the streets with
their rage, painting pink circle-As
all over Ann Arbor.
“It was meant to cause an
outrage, but we messed up,”
Anonymous
Member
with
Sunglasses said, lying in a pool
of his own blood. “The As were
painted too closely together,
and
people
just
thought
it
was
community
pride.
We
accidentally created a brand.”
So they took to the basements,
bars and ditches that would
support their violent endeavors.
Their punches and kicks revealed
the students’ pent-up rage that
mostly stemmed from suspended
bitterness
toward
roommates
who
“wouldn’t
load
their
goddamn dishes,” as Anonymous
Member with a Rope Braid
Headband described.
“It’s not like I’m asking her
to go to a river, stick it in and
wash it with some leaves,” he
said as Anonymous Member
with
Crackle
Nail
Polish
understandingly
wrapped
an
arm around his shoulder. “Just
place it on a rack and close the
door. It’s so simple, and I feel like
if she can’t respect her coffee
mugs, how will she ever respect
me as a long-term partner in this
relationship?”
“Over the years, our mission
statement
has
definitely
evolved,” Anonymous Member
with Crackle Nail Polish said.
“Therapy plays a larger part than
it did before. Adrenaline was the
focus when it first formed, but as
years progressed, a couple heroin
addictions caused the dismissal
of certain members and — let’s
say we found a new direction.”
Initially an all-male group in
the early years, UMFC strove for
and achieved gender inclusivity
with this new direction. Rules
that were originally scrawled on
two broken tombstones found
in the Bob and Betty Beyster
Building by one of the members
were
finally
revisited
and
thought about in a broader, more
politically correct context.
“Originally it was ‘No shirt, no
shoes’ but, for obvious reasons,
we changed it to ‘No shoes, no
jewelry,’” Anonymous Member
with Crackle Nail Polish said.
“People kept bringing barbed
wire and calling it jewelry.
There’s only so many tetanus
shots we can afford to cover.”
Another issue came when
Shelby, an LSA junior, brought
her 8-year-old brother Joshua to
one of the meetings.
“Of course we weren’t going
to say anything to her face — her
parents are going through a rough
divorce,” Anonymous Member
with Crackle Nail Polish said.
“The little guy came and watched
the whole meeting, and when he
just loved it we were all a little
relieved. But then, the next week
was Festifall, and that’s when shit
went down.”
“Festifall 2014,” Anonymous
President said. “Boy, was that a
day. I remember walking through
the Diag — I’d just picked up a
flyer for a great new yoga club
— and seeing, right by Mason
Hall, a booth. Can you believe
it? Shelby had actually set up a
booth to advertise the club, and
her brother Josh created all these
adorable posters with all this
ClipArt blood and a picture of a
dead body.”
“After that, we slipped ‘no
children under the age of 13’
into the bylaws,” Anonymous
Member with Crackle Nail Polish
said. “Of course, Shelby was also
removed from the group, and we
worked out with Central Student
Government
that
Josh
will
never be allowed to attend the
University. We can’t have people
violating the bylaws.”
Since the kerfuffle with CSG,
members of UMFC have become
more disillusioned about the
idea of a central government
in general, even advocating for
anarchy all together. When asked
about their political leanings in
the 2016 presidential election,
most members of UMFC declined
to answer.
“You’re missing the whole
point if you’re expecting us to
endorse
one
candidate
over
another,” Anonymous President
said. “That said, if we had to pick
one, it’d be Bernie.”
Anarchy,
socialism,
avant-
garde therapy and violence —
UMFC embraces it all.
“Society has a stigma on
violence and constantly presents
it in a bad light,” Anonymous
Member with a Rope Braid
Headband
said.
“We’re
all
about flipping it around, taking
a sociological perspective and
making people realize, ‘Hey, I
could use a safe space to let out
my anger at my ineffective GSI,
and also integrals.’”
In pursuit of transcendence
and survival, the members of
UMFC have abandoned the club’s
ancient rules requiring strict
privacy in hopes of saving it.
While certain legalities prevent
UMFC from being considered a
student organization, by opening
up their doors to the public,
they hope to be greeted with an
understanding and enthusiastic
student population, one that
accepts their unique therapeutic
rituals for what they are and even
provides first aid assistance in
emergencies.
“Violence is a turn-off for some
people,” Anonymous President
said. “Most people, in fact. But
we’re looking for that 1 percent
that finds it intriguing. After
all, Greek life freely exists on
campus, so why can’t we?”
Editor’s note: This is part of an
April Fool’s parody B-Side issue.
All events and individuals depicted
are fictional (to the best of our
knowledge). But seriously, Shelby
sucks.
By REBECCA LERNER and
SOPHIA KAUFMAN
Daily Film Editor and Daily Arts
Writer
“I mean, what can I say? It’s
all in the name — everything
we want to communicate to our
audience, to you, we put into the
name,” guitarist Eric Goldman
said while drinking his triple
shot of espresso, grimacing with
every sip.
The name in question is
“Pussy Beacon,” and it refers
to the Ann Arbor-based indie
boy band taking the University
of Michigan by storm. After
meeting
and
becoming
fast
friends in a residential dorm
freshman year, the five LSA
juniors and comp lit majors of
Pussy Beacon realized they had
more in common than location.
“It’s actually a really, really,
really funny story,” drummer Pat
Alcheri said. “We were all living
in West Quad, and we realized
that we all played instruments.”
Lead vocalist Tom Arizona,
formerly Tom Stein before a
legal name change, cut him off.
He said, “And then we realized
that we all have the same ‘why’
for our music. We all started
playing because chicks love
musicians.”
“They also love being called
chicks,” Goldman said, smirking,
spinning his fedora around in
his hands.
At first, the members of Pussy
Beacon had been reluctant to
share that they were musicians
first and foremost to get girls.
“Eventually, we just decided
to come out with it,” Goldman
said. “Not come out in, like, a gay
way — not that there’s anything
wrong with that. At all! I have
a friend who’s gay. We’re just
super into girls. And we wanted
everyone to know.” Thus, “Pussy
Beacon” was born.
When asked if they thought
the backlash their band name
sometimes
received
was
warranted, all five boys snorted
in unison.
“We’re trying to be the most
true to ourselves as we possibly
can. The name reflects that.
We’re not going to sell out to
a major record company or
anything like that,” harmonicist
Mac Reynolds said, met with a
chorus of “Fuck that!” by the
other boys. “We just want to be
indie-rock. Actually, we want
TO indie rock! Can you put that
in the article? I just thought of
that right now. That was dope.”
The
influences
of
Pussy
Beacon span both genre and
time period. Citing artists like
Eminem and Jack Johnson, they
made it clear that they weren’t
just listening to artists of this
generation — Dave Matthews
Band of the ’90s also played
a huge part in their artistic
growth.
“I would describe us as a mix
between Jason Mraz and blink-
182, because I think we can get
sort of punk-ish sometimes,”
pianist Nick Blad said. “But
we’re still chill and indie.”
The band takes pride in
the fact that besides Blad’s
experience learning recorder
in third grade, they are entirely
self-taught.
“I actually learned how to play
guitar from YouTube videos. I’m
sort of crazy that way,” Goldman
said, flicking his hair to the side.
“I can just pick things up after
doing them every day for two
or three years. My friends call
me Rain Man. I just get things
without even trying, you know?”
Despite the lack of diversity in
their group, Pussy Beacon sees
the dearth of respect for people
of color and women in the music
industry as a huge problem.
“It sucks, man,” Reynolds
said. “I just feel like there aren’t
enough
chicks
making
cool
music, and that’s really hurting
them. I’d love to help them out, if
you know any girls who want to
play. Harmonica isn’t as hard as
people say it is, if you can believe
it. I’ll give you my number and
you can pass it on to any of your
female friends.”
“But sometimes I just feel
like girls aren’t as good at, like,
real rock music, you know?”
Goldman said. “Or, like, indie
music.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he
hastened to add. “Girls are great!
But guys and girls are just good
at different things. Like Adele
or Taylor Swift with those love
songs and pop music? Not my
vibe — there’s just not a whole
lot of substance there — but, like,
good for them.”
“And besides, we write a
lot of songs about girls,” Blad
said. “Wanna hear some of our
favorite lyrics?”
Despite
not
receiving
an
affirmative answer, he began
what the reporters at The
Michigan Daily assumed to be a
rap: “I know you slept with my
friend / But I still think you’re a
10 / You’re so hot, Naomi / and
I just wish you would blow me.”
Though the theme of girls has
dominated the band’s playlist on
SoundCloud, it has also factored
into challenges for the group.
“There was a time when
Arizona wanted to fuck Pat’s
hot Italian mom,” Goldman
said. “So, yeah, there was some
tension there.”
Luckily,
the
band
has
channeled their tensions into
producing some of their proudest
lyrical inventions.
“Arizona and I managed to
work
through
the
situation
when he wrote a song about it,”
Acheri said. “It goes, ‘You’re so
much older, got so much on your
shoulders / Your breasts are
starting to sag / with the weight
of your experience / I hate to
brag / but I want to see them, I’m
curious.’ After Arizona played
that for me for the first time,
I totally realized how he felt.
I mean, all of us have had that
relatable experience of wanting
to see a pair, you know?”
In terms of improving racial
diversity in indie music, the boys
were a little stumped.
“I mean, Pat’s Italian,” Blad
said. “I don’t really know how
much better you expect us to
do.”
“Second-generation,
but
still. People always ask me if
I like pizza,” Acheri said. “So
annoying. I guess, in that way,
there is a real prejudice problem
in the music industry.”
Pussy Beacon hopes to sign
with a small record label in
Brooklyn after graduation next
year. Because of their experience
playing in different venues, they
see this plan as entirely feasible.
“We’ve actually played at
co-op parties, fraternity parties
and
mixers,”
Arizona
said.
“Mixers are when a fraternity
and sorority socialize in a place
that isn’t the house. It’s a totally
different vibe. So yeah, I’d say
we’re pretty well-equipped to
handle whatever comes our
way.”
Despite being in a public place
and
being
repeatedly
asked
not to, Pussy Beacon ended the
interview with a song.
“We’re going to play this
song because it really speaks
to who we are as a band and a
collective group of awesome
dudes,” Goldman said before
sensually raising a disconnected
microphone to his mouth. “It’s
a cover, but I don’t think you’ll
ever have heard of it. It’s a song
about trust, and really getting
someone, like on a fundamental
level, you know? Hope you enjoy.
It’s called ‘Wonderwall.’
Editor’s Note: This is part of
an April Fools parody B-Side
issue. All events and individuals
depicted are fictional (to the best
of our knowledge). Pussy Beacon
isn’t trademarked yet — jump on
that fast.”
ARTISTS
PROFILE
IN
By DANIELLE IMMERMAN
Daily Arts Writer
In an effort to diversify their
lineup, Bravo has premiered a new
spin on their Real Housewives
series —
unlike
“The Real
House-
wives of
New Jer-
sey,” “New
York City,”
“Miami”
and the
other
series, “The Future Real House-
wives of Ann Arbor” centers on,
well, women who are 19 going on
20, instead of 40 going on 19.
The diverse cast follows five
freshman gals at the University
of Michigan as they search for
love in this crazy college town.
Rachel, Sarah, Ali, Emma and
Apple-North Moses get into a
cat fight over the same frat guy
within the first 10 minutes of the
pilot episode alone. Set at Tau
Epsilon Kappa’s “fifths and cuffs”
rager, each future housewife,
with their long dark hair and
cute Adidas Superstars, learns
that Timmy asked them all to his
formal in Chicago the following
weekend. How did they learn this
earth-shattering news, one might
ask? Their frat boi dates told them
because when you’re handcuffed
to a guy you barely know with a
fifth of Kamchatka in your other
hand, well, shit happens.
So for the remainder of the
pilot we see some wild “Real
Housewives of New Jersey”-style
drama commence; lots of tears are
shed, a few dresses are ripped to
shreds and fake tans are ruined.
Obviously, Timmy tries to put an
end to this drama by reassuring
all of the girls that there’s lots of
chances to hook up in the future,
but alas, Timmy ends up soaked
in their cans of Natty Light. Of
course Timmy gets pissed — his
Timberlands and Canada Goose
jacket are completely ruined
(why Timmy is wearing a Canada
Goose jacket at a steamy frat
part is beyond me). But, like the
gentleman that Timmy is, he
calls each gal a Lyft (not an Uber,
because Timmy messed that one
up) home.
All this drama is quite
entertaining to watch. It’s
refreshing to see such intelligent
college co-eds put their feelings
on display so publicly. If you
think this new reality show is just
another “Jersey Shore,” you’d be
wrong! We actually learn quite
a lot from “The Future Real
Housewives of Ann Arbor.” For
example, we learn that Rachel,
Sarah, Ali, Emma and Apple-
North Moses are all majoring in
communications because they
want to be able to educate their
kids on the ~harmful effects of
the media~. We even learn some
Econ 101 as they get tutored by
Ross students (it’s OK that they’re
just taking Econ to find a Ross
husband, right?), and we also
learn some healthy habits as they
fill their plates with kale, workout
at the Ross gym and proceed to
drink a fifth of vodka later that
night!
Overall, I’d say this is the best
spin on the Real Housewives
series to date. After all, what
could be better than watching
some goal-oriented kids seize life
by the balls, one bottle of Ciroc at
a time?
Editor’s note: This is part of
an April Fool’s parody B-Side
issue. All events and individuals
depicted are fictional (to the best of
our knowledge). There’s probably
someone out there named Apple-
North, though.
Very real review of
‘Future A2 Wives’
A++
The Real
Housewives
of Ann Arbor
WOLV-TV
“People always
ask me if I like
pizza.”
A picture of a
dead body.
Talk about UM’s
secret fight club