On an attractively grimy corner in Asbury Park, NJ, not long for the effects of gentrification but still technically in the unlovelier meridians of town, is a lovely craft brewery, and my preferred Jersey Shore haunt.
It was there, in its sleek, glass-enclosed dimensions, over a dry-hopped pilsner, that I met Aziz Soulfood—not the author of Arabic cookbooks, but an R&B singer and performer, and what you may call a streetside-interviewer. Through these conversations Aziz seeks—with a veritable stranger and in the space of about seven minutes—to unmask his interlocutor and discuss something intimate and “real”. His project, as he put it to me, is to “use social media against itself.”
Doubting very much the feasibility of that endevour, I liked the idea and appeared on his program, and do not regret doing so. As the beers grew flatter our conversation only become the more effervescent. Beer and music, that evening was all about the strains. I look forward to a refill.
Strains & Refrains
Strains & Refrains
Strains & Refrains
On an attractively grimy corner in Asbury Park, NJ, not long for the effects of gentrification but still technically in the unlovelier meridians of town, is a lovely craft brewery, and my preferred Jersey Shore haunt.
It was there, in its sleek, glass-enclosed dimensions, over a dry-hopped pilsner, that I met Aziz Soulfood—not the author of Arabic cookbooks, but an R&B singer and performer, and what you may call a streetside-interviewer. Through these conversations Aziz seeks—with a veritable stranger and in the space of about seven minutes—to unmask his interlocutor and discuss something intimate and “real”. His project, as he put it to me, is to “use social media against itself.”
Doubting very much the feasibility of that endevour, I liked the idea and appeared on his program, and do not regret doing so. As the beers grew flatter our conversation only become the more effervescent. Beer and music, that evening was all about the strains. I look forward to a refill.