Internet permanence and its effects on a student journalist
I love writing for the commentary section every week. I fill my Notes app with article ideas about light and silly topics. I dabble in satire, and ask the real questions, like why pets with food names are inherently adorable.
Writing “fluff” brings me (and hopefully others) laughter and joy, which is absolutely necessary in what is often a bleak newscape. I also strongly believe that it still offers creative commentary on the world. This article is not meant to discredit the fun stuff — ‘cause after all, it’s just as important.
However, as I’ve noticed this trend in my own writing tendencies, I’ve been pondering whether there’s something holding me back from tackling more “serious” issues.
While I often don’t feel like writing about these topics, when there’s something I do feel passionately about, there’s always a voice in my head telling me that sticking to what I know will never be controversial.
As a 20-year-old student, I’m often scared that I don’t have enough real-life experience to comment on big world issues. When I’m researching, no matter how much reading I do, I still feel uninformed and nervous to express how I feel.
Although some of these sentiments can be chalked up to impostor syndrome or a valid concern of not wanting to contribute to misinformation, part of my hesitancy stems from the permanence of the internet.
While archives of student newspapers have always existed, the accessibility of the internet raises the stakes for student journalists who are learning and experimenting through student media.
Voicing my opinions on more serious topics is scary because I know that anything that I publish now will follow me for the rest of my professional career.
I might be proud of my writing and my arguments at this stage, but I’m worried that in the future, I might change stances or develop more nuanced perspectives. I might not necessarily want my 20-year-old opinions to be easily accessible and out there forever.
At times, it seems ridiculous to hold my tongue in fear of something that may very well never happen. It’s completely possible that I will stay the same in all of my convictions for the rest of my life. But, I also want to keep an open mind and learn new things that will challenge these convictions.
I know that I should voice my opinions and trust people to understand personal and professional growth over time, but leaving that interpretation up to others is often daunting. It’s a concern that’s new to our generation of journalists that we will have to figure out as we go.
In the meantime, I’m going to try not to let the concept of internet permanence scare me from speaking out when I have something valuable to add to the dialogue. I’m going to try to not be afraid of being judged for the way I present my opinions.
As a journalist writing for the public interest, I shouldn’t need to censor my articles in case myself or others don’t agree with me later down the road. As long as I continue to base my writing on facts, diligent research, and good intentions, I’ll be okay, right?
Sticky floors, a bubbling crowd, and good music. Montreal-based rap artist Milla Thyme’s EVERYTHING HAS ITS THYME tour came to Montreal last month, and was a remarkable re-introduction to live music for myself and many others in the crowd that night.
The show featured guest performances from some of Montreal’s most exciting up-and-coming performers, including self-proclaimed nightmare pop artist Carlyn and the jazz/hip hop fusion musician, L. Teez.
Carlyn, who gave the first performance of the night, has been releasing music since 2018. Her first hit, “Spit,” gained quite a bit of recognition, andshe’s since released two other singles,2020’s “Antidote” and “Run.” Carlyn has also collaborated with artists such as Montreal/Boston-based rapper Chris Madden.
With influences like Syd Barrett, Muse, Britney Spears, Billie Eilish, and Madison Beer guiding her creative process, it’s no surprise that the singer/songwriter is set to be a big success within the dark-pop genre.
To see her in concert felt like witnessing all of those influences brought to life. Her ability to engage the crowd with confidence and ease, while also putting on one of the most high-energy performances I’ve witnessed, was captivating and made for an impressive performance.
The second performer, L.Teez, stepped out to a vivacious crowd following Carlyn’s high-energy show. The Montreal-based performer, who has been recording music and playing shows for almost a decade, did an incredible job at continuing to connect with the crowd.
L.Teez came out onto the stage with a captivating presence, riling up the crowd and encouraging everyone to move along with the melody, sometimes even physically motioning for everyone to move closer to the ground, only to bring us all up again with one hand wave — like a conductor, guiding his choir.
Overall, it was a mesmerizing performance, due in large part to the chemistry between the artist and his immensely talented background singers/instrumentalists, in addition to their captivating collective stage presence.
The third performer and headlining artist, Milla Thyme, put on another impressive show. With his discography dating back to 2016, the artist is well-versed in what he does.
As the headlining act, Thyme was there to promote his latest album Everything Has Its Thyme, a psychedelic-sounding record with hip hop, soul, jazz and R&B influences.
Similar to L.Teez and Carlyn, Thyme’s stage presence was unmatched. As a member of the audience, it was incredible to see such consistent levels of enthusiasm and showmanship within each performance. Thyme also had an incredible and talented background crew which accompanied his performance and elevated it to the next level.
The show was captivating and this album is, without a doubt, some of Thyme’s best work to date. With it having been released almost a year ago, there is surely some incredible new music awaiting fans and new listeners alike.
All in all, the concert was incredible. It was captivating and vulnerable all at once, a truly spectacular reintroduction to live performances, with some of the most current and promising up-and-comers of the Montreal music scene presented at their best.
Our music editors share what they have been listening to lately
Guillaume Laberge, Music Editor
“As It Was” – Harry Styles
British pop star Harry Styles is back with his first single in three years. This indie-infused cut about a relationship falling apart despite the feelings still being there is definitely going to dominate the charts.
“Ice Cream” (feat. Rick Ross) – Freddie Gibbs
Another On Repeat, another aggressive rap banger filled with cocaine references. This time the culprits are Freddie Gibbs and Rick Ross, who team up for Gibbs’ fourth single ahead of his upcoming album SSS.
“Lifestyle” (with Bas feat. A$AP Ferg) – Dreamville
This track off the new Dreamville D-Day: A Gangsta Grillz Mixtape sees Bas and A$AP Ferg venting about living the luxurious and playboy rapper lifestyle, while surfing and flowing over a wavy instrumental.
Saro Hartounian, Assistant Music Editor
“Intertwined” (feat. Elchin Shirinov and Roni Kaspi) – Avishai Cohen
Jazz bassist Avishai Cohen shows that you don’t need a sextet to have technical lounge madness as a trio. Each instrument cuts through the mix so clearly, “intertwining” with one another. Not for the faint of heart!
“Broken Cog” – Meshuggah
From the band behind “Bleed,” the extreme prog metal band brings you “Broken Cog” from their Immutable album. Beware, the intro sounds like a slowed down version of “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed, but heavier. Listener discretion is advised.
“Micro-Aggressions” – Animals As Leaders
The sub-genre of Djent’s holy triumphant Animals As Leaders released a new LP and I’m here for it. Tosin Abasi’s heavy technical guitar playing cuts through the mix with this symphonic single. They could easily give Polyphia a run for their money!
How do unsigned musicians making genuine music stack up to big record labels?
While artists or bands with no financial backing often feel the pressure to pursue a record deal, they still have many opportunities to market themselves. In a universe of expanding media outlets, we should try to embrace artists who strive to make it on their own.
The intention isn’t to put down signed artists, but it’s worth being aware of the difficulties that come with working for a corporation. Record labels play a huge role in commercializing music by setting standards and placing expectations on their signees.
That being said, remaining independent in an oversaturated industry must be difficult, but it’s not as impossible as it was in the past.
There are many more supportive media outlets for the arts these days, and new opportunities for fan interaction. Free streaming services like SoundCloud gave new rap artists like Lil Yachty and Fetty Wap a significant platform in the mid-2010s. Recently, TikTok has also become an avenue for artists to gain, or regain, traction due to its sound-based algorithms.
The modern indie artist
In the past, being an independent artist simply meant you hadn’t been signed yet. Today, indie artists are appreciated for genuine music, uninfluenced by “corporate interests.” Indie is also considered a genre today, often tagged as a niche and unique take on other music categories. Being a self-sufficient indie artist often comes down to how well one can integrate into the music scene and engage their audience.
Indie artists can usually hold their audience’s attention given the right amount of involvement. Membership platform services like Patreon have been a new outlet for independent creators to nurture a fanbase, in an attempt to build more fruitful and healthy fan relationships.
With Patreon, creators can manage a tier of incentives that give subscribers access to more music, merch exclusives, and artist interaction. Cautious Clay, Jacob Collier, and Ben Folds are some of the more notable musicians on the platform, giving fans access to livestream mixing sessions and unreleased tracks. Patreon is just the beginning of services supporting artists, as Twitch, YouTube, and other media platforms have also helped tear down barriers for fan engagement.
Marketplaces like Bandcamp and Hello Merch are other avenues for audiences to support musicians. With COVID-19 lockdowns preventing in-store purchases, physical record sales dropped by 27.6 per cent in 2020. Since merchandise is often the number one way to support artists, these online sites have kept physical as well as digital sales alive.
With these new online outlets helping support artists, there is less reliance on music labels to sell physical copies in record stores. Along with this, there are more opportunities to support artists via donations which are easily more lucrative than streaming sales.
Sponsorship
As it stands, most indie artists do not receive sponsorships without help from bigger music labels. Even if an independent artist is offered a deal, it can be tricky to negotiate how much control the company has over the music. Much like record labels, brands can subtly influence the music they sponsor. One example is Bob Dylan’s strange advertisement with Victoria’s Secret where he essentially stares at models while singing about being sick of love.
A musician’s image can be at risk when they give up their artistic values for a bigger corporation. The worry is that the artist must align their image with the company, and in doing so sacrifice their identity. Rappers are often guilty of name-dropping luxury brands, making the audience wonder whether the song is anything more than promotional.
Many artists still use blatant advertising in their content. For instance, Jennifer Lopez’s “Papi” features up to six different products in her music video, including alcohol, jewellery, and cars. There’s also Lil Pump’s excessive brand-repping in “Gucci Gang,” or the infamous Beats by Dre product placements that appeared in numerous music videos throughout the 2010s.
Some brands, like Yamaha and Fender, aren’t as bad to have in your corner, though. Rather than promoting something that feels distant from an artist’s image, music companies can positively influence the musicians they sponsor. Sending free music equipment, performance opportunities, and financial support are just a few examples of how brands can be an awesome resource for musicians.
So are sponsorships a bad thing?
In the end, artists deserve to be paid. If they are approached by a possible sponsor, they should ensure the deal is made on their terms. And although today’s music can feel overly commercial at times, many of today’s creators promote brands without compromising the value of their art.
Record Labels – David vs. Goliath
The trouble with record labels has always been associated with the pressure for artists to release music. This often leads to conflict caused by the ironclad contracts which bind the artists.
One of the most notable examples is Frank Ocean, who left Def Jam Recordings with the release of his visual album, Endless, just before independently releasing his platinum-certified Blonde. Another example is Prince, who famously changed his name to a symbol in order to exit his contract with Warner Bros.
Many record labels these days have been purchased as sub-labels for the big three record corporations: Universal, Warner, and Sony. For example, RCA Records, Columbia Records, and Epic Records are all funded by Sony Music. Any record label existing outside of these conglomerates is considered an indie label.
Indie labels are great because they form close relationships with their musicians, give larger royalty percentages, and generally allow more artistic freedom. In these labels we also find a smaller cohort of artists and a tendency to gravitate towards specific genres and styles.
The Los Angeles-based record label Brainfeeder, for example, features artists who fall under similar subgenres like jazz, funk, and soul. Domino Recording Company, on the other hand, leans toward an alternative, psych rock sound. Musicians of these niche labels can use this opportunity to tour together, collaborate, and cultivate a larger fanbase.
But with limited marketing campaigns, competition within the label, and fighting to maintain relevance among bigger corporations, artists may opt to take their career into their own hands. Frank Ocean and Chance the Rapper, for example, have succeeded in reaching audiences without the backing of any label, allowing for music creation with more artistic freedom and fewer time constraints.
Streaming Services
Arguably, nothing has impacted music culture more directly than streaming services over the last decade. What started as free applications like Napster and Rhapsody quickly grew into subscription outlets like Apple Music, Spotify, and YouTube Music.
Today, streaming accounts act as a personalized headquarters of sorts; a place where listeners can find the latest releases, featured artists, and tailored playlists. These services curate the scope of music for users, and therefore have a big role to play in giving independent artists a platform. Music curators like Pigeons & Planes and TuneIn are also platforms which can promote upcoming artists through playlists and radio stations.
Each streaming platform finds different ways to curate music and offers different opportunities for indie artists. Apple Music excels at giving musicians the opportunity to curate their favourite music as radio hosts and through featured playlists. Spotify uses its algorithms to specifically tailor new music to users, especially in their Discover Weekly section. TIDAL grew in popularity by featuring exclusive music that would not be immediately released on other platforms.
Without significant exposure on these music hubs, it can be very difficult to make a living from streaming services alone. For example, if an independent artist receives 100,000 streams for a single, that means roughly $318 on Spotify or $800 on Apple Music in music royalties. Considering the amount of listens and production costs for the music, that’s pretty low. So, the main hope for upcoming artists on these apps is to reach an audience.
In the digital age, there are many options in which indie artists can market themselves, but what is most important for artists is to cultivate a following. Various music sites now give artists the chance to engage with fans, sell exciting merch, and of course share their music.
Online presence is only the starting point though. From there, artists can use concerts and tours to supplement their projects, to truly engage with their fanbase, and use these alternative market opportunities to be able to live making music.
Only nine years old, Ellen sheds light on juggling bass, daily life, and friends.
While scrolling through the music corner of Instagram, you may come across Ellen Alaverdyan: a nine-year-old bass player whose music chops cut through your daily intake of social media. Born in California to Armenian parents, Alaverdyan began playing bass naught but two years ago. She’s since made quite an impression on social media, showing up on many an artist’s radars.
In that short span of time, she has accomplished so much. Recently she opened for the Golden State Warriors game at the Chase Center, playing bass even during half-time in front of thousands of spectators, and has been a host on Steve Harvey’s show called “STEVE on Watch.” Here she met none other than Bootsy Collins and members of Earth, Wind & Fire. Alaverdyan has also met musicians like guitarist Steve Vai, bassist Richard Bona, and Victor Wooten.
Is she small? Sure, but she packs quite the punch with her bass playing!
The Concordian sat down with Alaverdyan to talk about her music and goals.
The Concordian: What’s your day-to-day routine like?
Ellen Alaverdyan: Usually I come back from school, then I’ll eat and watch something and then at 6 or 7 p.m. I’ll practice something if we don’t have anything to record, and then after that, I’ll play some video games if I have time and then go to sleep.
TC: Picture this: it’s your first time picking up the bass, how did you feel?
EA: Guess I’m going to have to flashback two years ago. At first, I thought it was a guitar but as I started playing the notes I felt that it wasn’t a low sound but more so a bigger vibration.
TC: What would be the next technique that you are going to learn on bass?
EA: Slap. I’m learning a couple of things on slap right now. I’m working on Victor Wooten’s lesson right now. He calls it “thumping and plucking.”
TC: Do you have any hobbies when you’re not playing music?
EA: Oh yeah, my main one is drawing. I used to go to gymnastics but not anymore. I went to gymnastics in Cali and now we moved to Vegas so we’re trying to find a gymnastics place.
TC: How did the move change you in terms of music-making?
EA: It helped a lot because our old home was really small. Our studio back then was separate and we had to drive to it. Now in our new house, we made the studio in the garage. My dad still has his connections in LA and so we can still go back and record.
TC: What genre of music influences you?
EA: So right now I like funk. I’ve been getting into and listening to a lot of rock songs recently, but my main genre is funk. We’re talking old-school funk with Bootsy Collins, Kool & The Gang, and P-Funk.
TC: Speaking of Bootsy Collins. I watched you on Steve Harvey’s show, that was amazing! How did being on that show, on national TV change you?
EA: It made me feel a lot of emotions. I mainly felt surprised. I was actually kind of expecting Bootsy Collins because my parents kept telling me, “What if Bootsy Collins comes on, what are you gonna do?” but I didn’t expect Earth, Wind, & Fire would come on. I didn’t see it coming.
TC: You’ve met and spoken to a number of Influential musician figures. Who impacted you the most and why?
EA: You mean which ones made me most surprised and happy? The first one is Earth, Wind & Fire and the second is Steve Vai. I was imagining him with his long, black, curly hair in the movie Crossroads. He signed a pedal for me too, and we’re gonna keep it safe.
TC: I saw that you played bass for the Golden State Warriors game two weeks ago. What was your first thought when you were told you were going to play in front of thousands of people?
EA: When I got on stage my first thought was “How was everyone going to react?” I wasn’t exactly nervous, moreso excited to play the bass. Once I started playing I could see people recording me and it made me feel a lot of things, mainly that they liked what I was playing. I was worried I would play the wrong note but even if I did, it’s not that much of a difference!
TC: What’s next for Ellen Alaverdyan?
EA: We have a couple of shows. Actually, a drummer from Japan is coming to play with me. For my band rehearsal a couple of students from the School of Rock, the singer and guitarist. We were going to go into a separate studio because my home studio can’t hold all of us. Basically in two months, we’re going to have a show and we’re playing mainly Led Zeppelin songs; “The Ocean,” “The Rover” — and “No One Knows” by Queens of the Stone Age.
CRASH lacks the cohesion and forward-thinking sonics of the work that has defined the recent years of Charli’s career.
Charli XCX has had one of the most unexpected careers as a pop star in the last decade. Breaking out with a handful of large singles, and features on smash hits “I Love It”by Icona Pop and Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy,”Charli was shot into stardom.
The first surprise in Charli’s career came in the form of 2016’s Vroom Vroom EP, enlisting bubblegum bass pioneer SOPHIE as executive producer, hot off the backend of her 2015 project Product. SOPHIE was becoming one of the most in-demand producers, known for her deconstructed club sound with heavy left field tendencies, which made this EP cut out for a dance floor in the loudest nightclub in town, and not the FM radio waves.
After a pair of collaboration-oriented mixtapes, and two more studio albums, Charli has (intentionally or not) become the figurehead of what came to be the “hyperpop” scene, blazing the trail for numerous artists like 100 gecs and Dorian Electra.
The 2017’s Pop 2 and 2019’s Charli became a harbour for this scene, with an all-star lineup of artists being featured across the tracklists, all while also maintaining the pop sensibility that made her a star.
CRASH is the most radio-pop project we have received from Charli since 2014’s Sucker. The PC Music label sounds preceding hyperpop that Charli embraced in recent years have dissolved into a more conventional sound.
CRASH comes loosely packaged with a plethora of pop and dance music influences through the decades. Whether it’s the ’80s synth pop tinted “Good Ones” and “Lightning” to 2000s trance leads and 2-step drums of “Beg For You,” the project lacks the clear cut direction of her last two records.
Though going over well on Number 1 Angel, which like this project did not have a rock solid sonic identity, CRASH comes across as a bit of a jumbled mess. Disorientingly bouncing from funky guitar lines, to big ’90s gated drums and 2000s Ibiza synths, the variety of sounds on this project can at times mix like water and oil.
Highlights like “Move Me” and “New Shapes” have immense vocal performances and spotless production, but these highpoints only crop up in the first half, leaving CRASH feeling front loaded.
CRASH comes as a bitter end to her five album contract with Atlantic as Charli’s TikToks and tweets have not shied away from expressing her frustration towards PR and contractual commitments.
If CRASH is Charli’s out from this contract, and she was simply trying to just dump a more conventional pop album on Atlantic to sell, then she has done what she sought out to do. Major labels are notorious for editing artists into creative oblivion and CRASH could be a record that’s content got lost in translation. Though she may not have made a product that fully expresses her artistic direction, given full creative control, I am sure future projects will result in a full realization of another pop opus Charli surely has within her.
You’re scrolling through your “For You” page when you come across a video of a woman imitating a man putting on lip balm. He purses her lips into a quasi duck-face and squints in concentration. Then, he applies the balm in sharp, equal circles, pinching the applicator with all his fingers with a fervor that seems like it could shatter the plastic.
Does this image revolt you? You might have a lip-balm-applying ick.
Though no one can pinpoint where exactly the term ick originated, like most people, I first heard it mentioned in a TikTok. Shortly after I first came across it, the word ick became a common presence in group chats and conversations where romantic prospects were being discussed.
Urban Dictionary defines an ick as “something someone does that is an instant turn-off for you, making you instantly hate the idea of being with them romantically,” which perfectly encapsulates my understanding of the word.
Icks aren’t the same as red flags — they are trivial things that really shouldn’t affect one’s perception of a romantic partner, but end up having an overpowering effect.
For that reason, icks would be a fantastic topic for a research essay! But for the sake of this article, I’m going to take a sillier route, and propose a deeper dive into the most ridiculous icks that I could find.
Using a question sticker on Instagram (my favourite and most reliable way of gathering balanced and unbiased information, of course), I asked about the most insane icks that irk my followers or people they know. The results did not disappoint.
With this data, I’ve compiled a list of the top four most ridiculous icks, along with colourful commentary on the validity and/or absurdity of the ick produced by these inconsequential actions.
Country Roads Won’t Take Her Home
It’s 2 a.m. and the bar is clearing out. Your crush is sitting with abysmal posture when “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver starts playing. They immediately shoot up and begin slurring along with a soft southern drawl. It’s haunting and glass-shattering. In my books, this ick is absolutely valid — no one wants to be taken home after that display (though perhaps I’d consider it if Denver’s ballad was swapped with a Taylor Swift banger… is that just me?). I also love that this one has a story behind it; this ick would literally never cross anyone’s mind unless it happened to them.
Jacket Challenges
Do you know when you’re trying to put on your jacket and you’ve already got one arm in the sleeve, but you just can’t get the other to go in? There’s this ridiculous flailing and shimmying that occurs which instantaneously diminishes sex appeal faster than JMSB bros will teach you about crypto. While this paints a hilarious image, this ick just completely obliterates the Montreal dating pool. We all need to wear jackets, and unfortunately, we can’t always dawn them oh-so gracefully.
Grammar-Gate
You can tell that a journalist submitted this one. To them, there’s nothing less attractive than using the wrong “their,” and they’ll probably cut you off after one too many misplaced commas. I kind of get it — I love a properly positioned semi-colon as much as the next J-school gal, but I also want to stress the difference between grammar mistakes because of not knowing or caring (ew, gross), and grammar mistakes because of a learning disability or having to write in language that’s not your mother tongue (completely understandable and DEFINITELY not an ick).
The Ping-Pong Run
There’s something intrinsically humiliating about chasing after a ping-pong ball that has fallen off the table. You feel like a puppy playing fetch, except instead of being flipping adorable, you’re lumbering, clumsy, and are meekly crawling under a radiator to grasp a tiny white orb. It’s not a cute look. It’s also pretty universal — does anyone look good chasing after a ping-pong ball? But still, nothing screams sexy about that ordeal. The only solution: don’t play ping-pong in front of your crush, unless you plan on never dropping the ball.
In short, while some icks are simply hilarious, others pinpoint things that are just gross (see: crusty pasta sauce remnants around the corner of one’s lips). Yes, icks are often superficial and silly, but they add a sense of validity to a lack of romantic attraction that helps people to better understand their preferences. But perhaps the biggest ick of all is trying to over-analyze them, so I’ll just quit while I’m ahead, and let them exist to entertain.
Reality TV is a defining facet of our era. Its emergence coincided with the beginning of television itself, and since has branched out into an innumerable amount of subgenres.
From game shows to survival shows, competition shows, dating shows, and many different variations on some sort of American family drama, each gives us a glimpse into the lives of different people. But how real are these perceived “glimpses?”
Not only are many popular reality shows scripted, directed, and heavily edited, these shows are carefully constructed to mimic a standard fictional narrative. Each episode has an overarching problem, a build-up, a climax, and a resolution.
The people that are portrayed fit into character roles that have been around since the beginning of storytelling: protagonists, antagonists, love interests, etc.
I began to question how much of the stories are fabricated.
Each show is clearly packaged in a way that makes them easy to watch, through the use of common story tropes and themes that the viewer can recognize.
This is fair enough, since most of us enjoy consuming media that does not require much critical thought or drastic change to our emotions. We watch it simply because it’s comforting.
Although we can accept that reality TV is a large part of our culture and used as a source of comfort for many people, it is important to acknowledge that reality TV is not a true representation of our reality.
Take reality TV show “Floribama Shore,” for example. A spin off of MTV’s classic “Jersey Shore,” the show features eight adults who live together in a house on the Gulf Coast. I’ve only watched the show in passing, but everything about it is ironically bad (especially the name), so much so that it reads as a parody of the original. But it’s not, and it checks all the required boxes of a reality show, and has a solid viewership.
Cast members Jeremiah Buoni and Gus Smyrnios play the roles of protagonist and antagonist respectively, with their rivalry extending through all four seasons. Smyrnios plays the black sheep of the crew, Buoni is the “hero,” who doesn’t shy away from confronting Smyrnios on his wrongdoings. Cast member Nilsa Prowant fills the role of the sweet and pretty one, and Aimee Hall is the loud and outspoken one (you get the gist). The cast is branded as a family that, despite their differences, always make up.
We watch this in relation to our own lives, classifying the characters as their tropes and their actions on camera, and nothing more. But these are real people, and this is not how reality works, and using this as a source of comfort can be troubling to our perception of life.
Like the original, “Floribama Shore” has its fair share of drama, scandals, fights, secrets, and sex.
In fact, reality shows can only exist on the premise of ubiquitous problems. Shows like “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” and “Real Housewives” thrive off interfamilial disagreements and tumultuous friendships. Viewers would be generally uninterested in a reality show that had no conflict — so why is it that we love watching all these disagreements and in-fighting?
It can be said in this case that media must imitate real life to be of any interest to us, which is the exact purpose reality TV serves. It capitalizes on the portrayal of our own insecurities and problems, and we consume it because it makes us comfortable with our imperfect lives.
Seeing someone make a fool out of themselves, or say something so tone deaf you choke a little just makes us… feel better.
The issue with reality TV, then, is that we perceive these people as real, as that is how they are portrayed. The stars are simultaneously characters and real people, but what we see of them is entirely constructed. By watching these shows, we accept that these people are just like us, because the lines between real and fake are completely blurred.
Although their problems might reflect on our own, the events are dramatized for the screen and therefore not a true representation of our realities. It is harmful to idolize these people for being real as they are simply an illusion of what is real.
How do you separate your identity from your work when you’ve become a workaholic?
Last spring, I wrote an article about the hustle culture affecting my mental health and leading to burnout. A year later, I still struggle to find a healthy balance between work and my personal life.
My problem last year was that I felt a social pressure to overwork myself. I kept comparing myself with other people’s achievements and felt insecure about my work in journalism. At that time, I was even questioning my career choice.
Today, I have a similar problem — but now the pressure is coming from within. Though I finally love what I’m doing and take pleasure in writing articles, I’ve let my work define me and have left no space for other hobbies.
“Who am I apart from being a journalist?” I asked myself a few weeks ago, on the train back home after being out working for 12 hours.
I kept holding back my tears for the entire hour-long train ride. I was exhausted, but refused to be upset about it.
That Saturday was the most emotionally and physically challenging day. I woke up at 7 a.m., attended a meeting online for another job, went to a café to work on an article, attended a protest, then headed to the library to write another article on the demonstration.
“You love your work and everything you’re doing. You shouldn’t complain,” I kept whispering to myself as I sat on the train with my eyes half-closed.
This has been my routine and mantra for the past month.
Since February, I’ve been working three jobs. I work my nine-to-five internship during the week, then spend my weekends writing for The Concordian and supervising Concordia’s Arts and Science Federation of Associations (ASFA) winter 2022 elections. My mind is constantly occupied with work.
This may sound exhausting to some, but I love it. I absolutely adore what I’m doing because it makes me feel so fulfilled. I get an adrenaline rush attending protests and knowing that the articles I write matter.
I feel as if I have a purpose. Though only one of the three jobs pays me well, I decided to take on as many jobs to fill my CV and feel accomplished. Yet, I can’t help but think I’ve become chained to my work.
The religion of workism has taken over my life.
“Workism” was defined by Derek Thompson a few years ago in The Atlantic as, “the belief that work is not only necessary to economic production, but also the centerpiece of one’s identity and life’s purpose; and the belief that any policy to promote human welfare must always encourage more work.”
Working three remote jobs made it easier for me to let work define my worth and who I am. With my phone glued to my hand, it’s been challenging to disassociate myself from work. If I’m not working for my internship, I’m constantly looking for story ideas or responding to emails.
I no longer have time for leisure activities like reading, journaling, running… I tried squeezing in a day to ski every Sunday during the winter months. Even then, on the slopes, I was working! I kept checking my phone and worked on the chairlift between the runs.
On top of that, the few times I go out and socialize with my friends, I find myself checking my phone.
A few weeks ago, I was trying to get to know someone at a social event, and my phone kept buzzing. Work messages buzzed in my pockets every few minutes as I profusely apologized for the rudeness.
The worst thing was I didn’t even feel that bad because at that moment, if I’m being honest, I would have rather checked my phone than continued the conversation. I couldn’t enjoy my night until I was sure the work was done and settled.
I have yet to set boundaries to keep a healthy balance between work and my personal life but I can say that I’ve acknowledged that if I don’t change my work-life, I will have another burnout.
From left: Concordia students Ulayu Sequaluk, Daphne Tooktoo, and Ayagutak May. (Not pictured: Jason Annahatak) CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
Students from Quebec’s northernmost region go through thick and thin to have post-secondary education. Four of them shared how they surmounted these challenges and what the future holds for them.
On decisive days, ambitious Inuit students board Canadian North or Air Inuit-tagged planes with most of their belongings, saying goodbye to their families and hometowns.
Watching from their porthole, the lakes, rocky meadows and forests slowly dissolve into houses, highways, buildings and towers.
Between 1,100 to 1,900 kilometres separate Nunavik communities and Montreal. A select few decide to tackle this challenge in the pursuit of post-secondary studies.
Nunavik is Quebec’s northernmost region. It has 14 Inuit communities, Kuujjuaq being the most populous with around 3,000 inhabitants. Students from these communities must leave the region to access post-secondary studies.
Four students shared their stories with The Concordian.
The system in place
Before diving into the student’s stories, we need to summarise the system that is in place for them. Nunavik students wishing to pursue post-secondary education in the south must first apply for a sponsorship at the Post-Secondary Student Services department of Kativik Ilisarniliriniq, which translates as ‘school board in English’.
The institution provides financial, social, and academic support for students when moving to wherever they want to study.
However, even with all the support provided by Kativik Ilisarniliriniq, profound challenges remain.
The Kativik School Board estimates that “three per cent of Inuit have a diploma of college studies, compared with 37.4 per cent for Quebec as a whole. The rate for a certificate, diploma or university degree is two per cent compared to 30.9 per cent for Quebec overall.”
In 2018, Quebec’s Ombudsmanreported that, “Despite promising initiatives, access to postsecondary studies remains difficult” in Nunavik.
As a previous post-secondary director, Annahatak admits that seeing these statistics can be “quite disheartening.”
From his understanding, part of the problem is that “the few students who graduate high school are like superstars” in their communities. “They were the big fish in a small pond,” he said. “When they come here, they become a very small fish in a huge ocean, and that’s a big hit to the ego.”
Another problem is the lack of support post-secondary students have at the community level.
Annahatak said that students “do not get a lot of support for coming to school in general.” Having been a director, he mentioned, “I knew there were some students who were actively discouraged from going to college.”
Because of this, Annahatak said that “there are no role models” for post-secondary students to look up to. He points out that the few graduates who are engineers or lawyers were raised and educated in the south, putting them into a separate category altogether.
Michelle Smith, Métis Cinema-Communications teacher at Dawson College and principal investigator forthe First Peoples’ Post-secondary Storytelling Exchange research project (FPPSE), interviewed dozens of Indigenous students studying away from their home communities. A few of them were from Nunavik.
Smith provided another perspective on the situation.
“On the one hand, [students] are trying to navigate the western system of learning to acquire skills that they did not build in high school,” she explained. “On the other hand, they are in this place of deep questioning about who they are and who they want to be.”
She said that these two factors alone can be overwhelming for students.
This western system of learning was a prominent aspect in Smith’s research. She said that “post-secondary systems are still modelled on a certain type of learning where reading and writing are really important qualities to have.”
“I see so many brilliant, young minds who are able to talk at length about deep knowledge and understanding of their culture,” she said. However, “writing this knowledge down in a formal structured essay with all the rules and expectations is not always going to happen, and it doesn’t mean that the person is not capable.”
Both Smith’s FPPSE project and the report made by Quebec’s Ombudsman concluded that there are many problems Kativik Ilisarniliriniq should resolve for better education in Nunavik.
There are no science or math prerequisite courses in Nunavik, preventing students from partaking in science programs. Both reports suggest additional support for students to transition from high school to college and university. There should also be more post-secondary options offered in Nunavik.
With this appropriate context laid out, we can now turn to the stories provided by our students from Nunavik; looking at how their journeys started, the various challenges faced, and how they surmounted them.
The birth of purpose
From Kuujjuaq is Ayagutak May, a political science and First Peoples studies student at Concordia. Fellow Kuujjuamiut (an Inuktitut word meaning “from Kuujjuaq”) is psychology and First Peoples studies student Ulayu Sequaluk. From Kuujjuaraapik is graphic design student Daphne Tooktoo. Last but not least is Jason Annahatak from Kangirsuk. He has two master’s degrees; one in psychological counselling and the other in business. He was also the director for post-secondary services in Nunavik for four and a half years.
All of their stories began with a purpose.
May’s purpose first showed itself during her last two years of high school. Her Inuktitut teacher encouraged the school to add Inuit history as part of the educational curriculum, and it was then that she was first exposed to the realities her ancestors faced through residential schools.
Ayagutak May. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
“I was not fully aware of what happened to my community, especially to my community,” she said. “Knowing that my family went through a lot of hardships and trauma back in the day… that’s what motivated me into doing something more.”
“Discovering more about my heritage and colonization gave me ambition to help my community by pursuing a university degree.”
Even though Sequaluk lived in Montreal for years, she said that her purpose came when she returned home to Kuujjuaq after studying Global Makeup at Vancouver’s Blanche Macdonald Centre. She started working part time at the Nunavik Regional Board of Health and Social Services’ suicide prevention initiative.
Ulayu Suqualuk. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
“The work I was doing there was just more fulfilling. And given the very high suicide rate in Nunavik, I just got really tired of seeing all my friends die… so I wanted to do something about it, and I did.”
Tooktoo said that she started post-secondary studies long after graduating high school and raising her family. In 2014, she made the leap and enrolled in CEGEP. She first went to John Abbott College in the Graphic and Web Design program. Afterwards, she attended University of Victoria’s Visual Arts program in British Columbia. Now, she is continuing her degree at Concordia.
She said that “there are a lot of graphic designs on the web that are not translated into Inuktitut,” and she aims to create a larger Inuit and Indigenous presence on the web.
Annahatak’s story started with a desire for adventure. He said that he “wanted to experience something beyond high school, to live in a city and try something outside of a small town.” There are around 600 people in his hometown of Kangirsuk.
He admitted that his journey was “a bit of a winding path.” He wanted to study business, but he felt his math skills were not up to par. “I got discouraged, and went into social sciences, from there I started studying psychology.”
The pitfalls
“It was very hard to be in class with so many people and adapt to the structure of how they teach,” May shared. “Homework was very new to me; it was like a pile of things that I had no idea what to do with.”
Daphne Tooktoo in her hometown of Kuujjuaraapik. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
Tooktoo said that language was her toughest hurdle. “The most challenging part was my English, because it’s my fourth language,” she said. “I grew up learning Inuit and listening to Cree people. I went to a French elementary school and then I did CEGEP in English.” During class, she often had to check her dictionary to know what everything meant.
Another core difficulty was homesickness. May said that moving out “is a very emotional moment for us because we get homesick, we miss eating our country food and going camping.” Since the city is anything but a natural environment, both of these needs cannot be fulfilled.
Sequaluk added to this point by saying, “you go from 3,000 people in your hometown to a school of over 3,000 kids in a big city, the culture shock is huge.” She added that “a lot of people quit school, not because they can’t handle it. They quit because they’re homesick.”
Annahatak faced culture shock, homesickness, and a new system of learning at the age of 16. He lived in Montreal with his parents for a year. He couldn’t wait until the year was over so that he could go back to his community.
He explained that the western system “felt sort of loud” to him. “To some extent, there is a lot of emphasis put on talking,” he said. “You have to produce, you have to be out there and make space so you can be heard.” In the Inuit world, he said “there is more emphasis put on listening, being quiet and paying attention to your environment.”
When Annahatak enrolled in CEGEP, it was a totally different story. Having been to high-school in Montreal, it gave him a head start, and he knew what he was getting himself into. However, he understood quickly that post-secondary education was also academically challenging. “It’s like going from the minor leagues to the major leagues in terms of what you need to produce and the quality of writing.”
However, in the end, all four managed to find their own strategies to make their university experiences enjoyable.
Strategies to surmount
May’s adapting process is still ongoing. But she found comfort in bringing her country food here to relieve her homesickness. Things like Tuktuk (caribou), Puijiviniq (seal meat), Iqaluk (fish), Mattak (beluga), among others, are her meals of choice.
She also added that having a child grounded her, even with all the responsibilities that come with motherhood. “Ever since I had my daughter, I am more focused on what I want to do, I am more ambitious, and she makes me feel so much better when I am down south.”
Sequaluk said, “I make a real effort to practice my Inuktitut and do cultural things while I am here, just so I don’t forget that part of my identity.” She followed by saying, “I think it’s just a balance, and I do realize not everyone handles being in the city all that well, and I don’t judge them when they go back up north.”
Ulayu Sequaluk at Concordia’s Loyola campus. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
For Tooktoo, she doubled down on learning English. Now, she can attend school and understand university-level language without the need of a dictionary.
What helped Annahatak was his friend group. He was surrounded by fellow Inuit students who were going through similar difficulties, although he admitted that he “did not try hard enough to make friends with non-Inuit people” in CEGEP. In university, he changed that for the better.
He advised all Nunavik post-secondary students to “have a sense of exploration. Even if the homework is unpleasant, it is part of the package of socializing, having fun and learning about life,” which makes the overall experience more enjoyable.
He kept this mentality when he travelled all over the world,from South Africa to Hong Kong. That sense of exploration helped him rekindle his Inuk identity. “Once I started travelling, my identity became a source of intrigue and interest,” he shared. Some people would ask where his family name came from, and he said that “sometimes it started a really nice conversation where I got the chance to talk about Inuit people.” This made him take pride in who he was.
What’s to come
With time, the purpose that guided our storytellers through their hardships helped them form clear objectives.
Ayagutak May at the Otsenhákta Student Centre in the Hall Building. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
May has a distinct inspiration that helps guide her on her path: her aunt Mary Simon, Canada’s governor general.
For her, Simon is a beacon of inspiration, driving her to make a change in her home community.
That change consists of joining Nunavik’s political sphere. May said, “my biggest goal would be for Nunavik to become functionally self-governing in a way that fits Inuit concepts and ways of knowing. To give a positive and thriving environment for Nunavimmiut where trauma, substance abuse, and suicide could be decreased.”
Sequaluk’s goals are about reshaping the field of psychology. If she gets a doctorate, she will create “Inuit-led and Inuit safe practices, because there is a lot of distrust within the healthcare system, especially for mental health.”
That strategy is about intertwining cultural practices with mental healing. It is called “on-the-land healing.” She followed this by saying that her method “would be to integrate on-the-land healing with psychological approaches [she] has learned in school.”
After the doctorate, she wishes to lead her own field of research and break new boundaries. However, she is aware that “a lot of academics do not regard Indigenous research as being serious. So, there is that hurdle to go over in the future.”
For Tooktoo, it’s about increasing Indigenous and Inuit presence online. She knows that by herself, it is a task that would take many lifetimes. “I want to teach at my local school,” she said. “A computer class that I will be teaching in my own language.”
While she currently makes websites and designs in Inuktitut, she wants to bring her knowledge to a new generation of young web designers to increase the online representation of Indigenous languages and art styles.
Years after graduating, Annahatak still seeks out new experiences. During his time as post-secondary director, he started his second master’s degree in business. He now works in the economical development department of the Makivik Corporation, an Indigenous organization that helps develop businesses in Nunavik.
In terms of systemic issues, Annahatak remains hopeful. He points out a couple of initiatives that have the potential to solve a few problems for post-secondary students.
He talked about Montreal’s Nunavik Sivunitsavut, a one-year bridging program that teaches skills rooted in Inuit culture. He said that it “serves as a nice incubator where students build their self-esteem and collective pride.”
He also mentioned JUMP Math Canada, an online platform that helps educate students at home. In an article for Nunatsiaq News, reporter Elaine Anselmi wrote that “It was conceived as a resource for educators to find lessons shaped by the Inuit worldview,” supporting teachers and families alike. For Annahatak, these programs are steps in the right direction.
He acknowledged that sometimes, he feels there are no improvements. “Some days, I think we are regressing.” However, he admitted that “there is very incremental progress.” Between laughs, he added, “progress that is going at a glacier’s speed!”
Our contributors share what they have been listening to lately
Anthony Issa
“Totally Fine” – PUP
Toronto group PUP dropped a banger song that pop-punk fans can enjoy in time for their next mental breakdown. With chunky guitar riffs and self-destructive lyrics filled with dark humour, “Totally Fine” is a great taste of what to expect on their upcoming album. The track is accompanied by a hilarious music video about the band selling out, leaving the indie scene, and becoming billionaires by building an evil real estate empire. Following the popular trend that all billionaire philanthropists seem to be into these days, they travel to space and rock out in astronaut gear.
Jacob Wade-Vallance
“Anything But Me” – MUNA
MUNA has nailed it once again. With their follow up to the viral queer love song “Silk Chiffon,” “Anything But Me” is a breakup bop and a wave goodbye to a toxic relationship, with killer lyrics.
Nadia Trudel
“Feel My Rhythm” – Red Velvet
“Feel My Rhythm” might not cure your seasonal depression, but it might help. The song has this delusional optimism that’s almost creepy: classic Red Velvet. Sonically it’s pretty, elegant, and dreamy, a true successor to their previous hit “Psycho.” It samples Bach, so mix classical strings with some modern pop, a trap beat, soaring chorus, fun rap verses, and signature Red Velvet vocals and you have a springtime anthem and homage to the beauty of art.
Aaron Bauman
“Troubles” – Denzel Curry feat. T-Pain
Denzel Curry’s gritty flow blended with T-Pain’s angelic vocals on this bouncy track creates a perfect song for a window-down cruise just in time for the sun’s return. This track comes as the final single of Denzel’s upcoming album’s rollout.
Curtis Savage
“i’m not gonna kill you” – Nemahsis
Nemahsis’ track from her breakout EP eleven achers is a soul-wrenching demand to not be treated like a threat. She somberly reflects in this R&B ballad over the pressure she feels to repress her Muslim identity in her western surroundings. Her voice gently carries through the song as she laments on her frustration to be accepted.
Oliver Eng
“Heavy” – Nigo feat. Lil Uzi Vert
“Heavy” is what you get when you put Lil Uzi Vert on a drill beat and let talent do its thing. It’s catchy and a perfect representation of who NIGO and Uzi are as people. The song is loud, heavy and it shakes your body. You can’t go wrong with this one.
Owen Cole
“Vocoder” – Floating Points
Returning to his dancefloor roots, Floating Points has crafted one of the biggest club tunes of recent months. After playing a string of after-hours gigs with Four Tet and even Skrillex throughout the U.S., Floating Points seems hungry to get the dancefloor pumping once again after the more subdued Crush from 2019, and the new age/ambient jazz Pharoah Sanders collaborative Promises from 2021.
Sydney Gastaldo
“What Happened To The Class of ’65?” – Damien Jurado
I was first introduced to Jurado’s music through the show Shameless. Something about the song stuck out to me immediately and after the episode, I looked up the track that was played, “Beacon Hill,” and ended up listening to almost all of the singer/songwriter’s discography. Jurado has been one of my favorite artists ever since and his newest single “What Happened To The Class of ‘65?” — a song which encapsulates what he does best: storytelling. Overall, it’s a captivating track with intimate and vulnerable lyrics and beautiful instrumentalism.
Jake Beacock
“Drink The New Wine” – Bauhaus
Recorded during lockdown last year, “Drink The New Wine” has come as a pleasant surprise for post-punk lovers. Bauhaus manages to maintain their unique essence: a spectral, gothic sound that makes you feel beautifully delirious. Go on, take a sip!
Metal band Mayhem performing at Club Soda in Montreal on March 22nd
Metal band Mayhem performing at Club Soda in Montreal on March 22nd
Take a walk on the dark side, Norwegian black metal band Mayhem has returned to Montreal
Saint Laurent Boulevard is home to the Club Soda, a marvelous venue with a capacity of up to 975 standing guests. Their large capacity was suitable for a black metal show of Mayhem’s caliber.
In the lobby, the doors to the dance floor were rattling with the powerful sound of heavy guitars, a bone-rattling kick drum and the grueling growls of Midnight, the opening act. Their sound was incredibly powerful, though not as fast-paced as the headliner that would proceed them. Midnight’s vocals were clear and severe, backed up by wailing guitars as they sang of sin, darkness and death. Their fiery sound successfully provoked the crowd, preparing them for what was to come.
After spending Midnight’s set in the mosh pit, the silence set in as the crowd waited for Mayhem’s arrival. The band was timely, creeping onto the stage through red light and clouds of fog. Feeling like I had entered the dark dungeon of a secret society, I watched as the lights slowly grew brighter.
Opening with “Falsified and Hated,” Mayhem was met with screams from the crowd. A rush of harsh guitar and ghoulish rasping kicked the show off, with a quick flash of blue light revealing the lead singer, Attila Csihar. He was dressed in many layers, with a tattered cloak on top. His face was covered in blood and corpse paint, and in his hands he held a cross made of bones.
The band would eventually swap out their battle jackets for black ritualistic cloaks, with Csihar donning pope-esque garb, upholding the theme of a high satanic priest preaching to his devilish children. The stage would appear to be the inside of a cathedral. Eventually, Csihar would be seen swinging a noose around, whispering into the microphone over an ominous beat like a vengeful spirit.
During the band’s most notable song, “Freezing Moon,” the crowd rushed to the front of the stage and the mosh pit erupted with crowd-surfers, creating pushing and shoving galore. The pulsing lull midway through the song provided a smooth transition from the first verse’s fast pace to the sound of a more soothing embrace of death.
The most vicious mosh pit that night by far would be during “Chainsaw Gutsfuck.” People were headbanging left and right. The thunderous hum of raspy guitar and bass accompanied melodic shrieks and the beating of a vicious kick drum. Several men were shirtless, sweating and panting as they sought out their next shove from a fellow fan.
The show came to a close surprisingly early at around 11:00 p.m. The band members kindly threw picks and grasped hands with fans on their way off the stage. Overall, it was a beautifully dark, thrilling experience!
There was such a strong sense of spirit in the room through it all and it was an unforgettable night. To all metalheads of Montreal, if you haven’t had a taste of black metal yet, I’d recommend dipping your toes in by listening to a song or even attending a show (especially if you’re looking to mosh and headbang insanely hard).
