Like a dream, Theomatic’s music tends to be soft and intricate. It typically induces a state of relaxation and transports you to your own headspace, provoking thoughts or simply letting them wander.
Plastered in a white, clear, modern font on Pike/Pine glows the generationally controversial word “Queer,” accompanied by “Bar.” It’s intentional. This sleek new space is reserved for the Capitol Hill creators, the spectrum of anything out of the gender dichotomy, the queer. No straights allowed if they’re not allies — despite the clear sign, one only hopes they drunkenly take the hint.
The Hilltop Service Station on 15th Avenue East — one of Seattle’s last full service gas stations — could be at the end of the road of more than 50 years of business on Capitol Hill. The station stopped selling gas this month though the busy garage continues to serve drivers from Capitol Hill and beyond. The land is up for sale.
Station owner Mike Burke has mixed feelings about the situation.
Ray Corona was nine years old when he came to America. He went through public education already feeling the preconceived ramifications of his his status. What’s the point of doing well in school if you can’t work or get scholarships?
After squirming his way through America’s systemic bottleneck with the help of mentors urging him to push forward, Corona made it to college. But when he graduated, the government decided yet again to illegitimate and limit his existence.
Five records and countless shows in, South End musician Noah Gundersen hit a roadblock: He no longer loved what he created. The very things Gundersen used to define himself growing up felt foreign. So he did what any songwriter would do: he played it out, creating his newest album “White Noise”