I'm over it.

 I don't know if it's scroll fatigue or capitalism fatigue or whatever other fatigue they list in their articles trying to explain why we are all so burnt out. But, spoiler alert: I think it might be the phones.

The weight of constantly carrying my phone has become much more noticeable. I suppose that's why they are trying to make them lighter. I just keep having an exhausting vision of carrying it with me forever, and dreading that future. 

I'm not sure what level of fatigue this is. But I hate it. 

The constant push of AI content, non-stop consumption, and over analyzation of everything has made being online exhausting. I've been online my whole life. In my earliest memories, I can see myself on a computer.  I still remember the internet safety sessions our first week of kindergarten; at home I'd spend time on my family desktop watching YouTube and dreaming about the days I was adult enough to have a phone, not for Facebook or Twitter, but to call my friends, and go to the mall, and be cool the way the older kids were circa early 2010's. When I finally got one, the excitement was invigorating; the world at my fingertips.

I don't want to hold the whole world in my hands anymore. I don't want every app to know me better than I know myself. It is not the same anymore; I'm bored. I long for the lives of rom-com characters in early 2000s movies, and when short-form was normal, not addictive. They don't spend hours glued to their apps; they live in a world much more free than the one I'm in. 

The new world that was birthed by the rise of the internet and social media replaced the mundanity of humanity. This digital-only, tech-forward dream the billionaires and tech bros get wet over isn't new to me. It isn't new to most of Gen-Z. It is stale on arrival. More new phones, more new apps, more and more; while the world rushes to capitalize on it, we just want it all to quiet down. 

Models: Sophia Deaver, Hillary Castillo Marte, Mickey Tegegne Photos By Toni Desiree

To me, this isn't a new way forward; the AI bubble, the Meta glasses, the intense algorithm, all might be "new" but it's the same power, the same fates, just worse. Me on my phone forever, just like elementary school, and middle, and high school. Trapped in the confines of the digital world's whims. The fun is over, it feels like we're stuck.

I've always been in an on-again, off-again relationship with my phone. At 15, I had gotten in the habit of jumping at every snap notification, and after a stint at summer camp with one spot of good wifi, I got good at seeing my phone as a tool, not a crutch. But in the deepest days of quarantine, when all there was to do was scroll, it became clear it was hard to put it down when it was my only real line to the outside world. 

But now, after spending my summer pushing myself out into the world, doing things like going to bar trivia, impromptu dinners with friends, talking to strangers, and putting my phone away in public, the things I found myself in a loop doing - overindulging in TV binging, doomscrolling, and the trend cycles have made the “escape” exhausting. 

Everything is quick and easy; the friction of our lives has been lost to make room for the ease of the digital world, and the upcharge to maintain it has become ridiculous. Netflix (w/o ads) costs $20+, software and gaming that used to be one-time buys rake up lifetime costs, they've stopped making DVDs, and they don't want you sharing or owning any of it, paywalls restrict the internet, and the verification system doesn't even matter anymore, because you can just pay for that too. 

I've found joy in the mundanity. The slow, the simple, some might say outdated things. Picking things up myself instead of having them delivered, getting dinner recipes from cookbooks instead of TikToks, CDs in a CD player, and phone calls on a landline. Keeping my online life at a desktop, not in my pocket.

It felt silly at first, how fun it felt to feel like I exist in the world again. It's weird how warped being online has become, so much so that it's made the thing people have been doing for centuries- going outside- exciting again.

Binge-watching leaves a certain level of post-watch clarity, and taking in too much makes me never want to tune in. I miss the days of new TV, and long seasons and filler episodes; I've exhausted the classics, early 2000's teen dramas can only be good for so long, and crate-digging forgotten TV shows is becoming increasingly difficult on traditional platforms. 

Instant gratification doesn't give me the buzz it used to; instead, I get my highs from finishing a book over the course of a week. I get giddy about making my own TV schedule full of what I feel like watching that day: new episodes, old shows, and watchlist movies. Refreshing my usual TV sit-downs, keeping me more engaged and mindful, instead of stuck in choice paralysis. I love growing the patience I thought I lost, I love taking the time to read articles and find my own feelings and inspirations. I love browsing and picking out cheap DVDs at thrift stores and swaps. I love going outside and meeting new people. There's not an app for that. 

They tried, they all suck. Online can't be everything; I'd rather own a little than rent it all from them.

We are being separated.  Gas rises, flight prices rise, walkability and affordability become greater challenges across the country, and it feels like they are stronger when we are apart. I'm tired of the all-or-nothing; we know things have to change. I want there to be a future, and I want it to look like the way I grew up, I want friction and intention, I want the soft, eclectic nature that made the world feel inviting. I want it all to be real. 

Despite how much I love the internet, the moves necessary to make that a reality can't be done in the face of what has become a complete invasion of our online interests and values. I never knew when I signed up for Instagram, it would become this. What was a fun way to connect online has stumbled into something else entirely. I've lost the connection, yet there's nothing to fulfill it, so every day I stay, longing for a new place, succumbing to the idea that maybe the only safe answer is offline. 

Lucky Break brings it home.

Upon entering Night Club 101 before the show, I immediately felt that this space was for someone looking to build community through music.

Not only were the Lucky Break fans in attendance that night so lovely and willing to talk to a stranger, hugging the wall, but it also felt like a space where new fans are made.

Night Club 101 is known for staging new artists and musicians who are still finding their sound, or artists who have already established their base and are looking to host a space a safe space for other user music lovers to land.

That's why this venue was perfect to host Lucky Break’s East village show ahead of her tour across the U.S. Lucky Break played an amazing show that indeed captured the vibes of nostalgia, family, hope and most of all fun.

Inside night club 101

Before attending the show, I sat down with Emma of Lucky Break to chat about her new album, her tour and what’s in store for this new creative chapter. 

Ann Tankersely: You came out with your new album, made it!— Why now (for this album)?

Lucky Break: This album is an accumulation of me (at ages) 19 to 23. So I really wanted to take my time, and I wanted to jump into the visual world of Lucky Break as a character first.

AT: Why did you take this album on tour?

LB: That’s what it’s all about for me. The live aspect is the most important part of the whole equation. My mom was a singer/songwriter, and I grew up watching her play bars around here (in the East village). Watching her connect with people live solidified for me that being in a room with people is really the center of the musical experience and the job of the musician.

AT: You grew up here (in the East Village). You're here tonight with your friends. How do you feel about tonight’s show versus the rest of the tour? 

LB: It does feel like a homecoming, and it’s celebratory being with my friends. I get really nostalgic coming to the East village, I know it by heart. I feel so connected to this place, and it’s so essential to who I am. It feels like coming home, it feels really good.

AT: Are you traveling with the band on this tour?

LB: It’s just me and my guitar. I started this by playing at SXSW with tracks. I realized I just like playing with my guitar, I have more direct access to people. I like how intimate it feel, and it’s so essential to the kinds of artists I listen to. I like the “no-frills” aspect; it’s so simple.

Lucky Break on stage

 The character of Lucky Break bleeds through every song from the album and provides an interactive yet transcendent experience for every listener.

If you have the chance to go see Lucky Break on their tour, don’t delay your plans. Not only are there sounds to blast all Summer long from a hyperpop idyllic landscape of their album, but there is also the awesome indulgence of the Lucky Break character in the world that has been built for them. 

Follow their journey at linktr.ee/imyourluckybreak, listen to their album made it! streaming now, catch them on tour with upcoming dates in Memphis and across the U.S. this Summer, and check out their super cute merch on Bandcamp or at the show!

Lucky Break CD, Stickers, and Post Card

Lucky Break T-Shirt

I Love Boosters Film Review: Anti-Capitalism Meets Satire, Crime, and Fashion

Boots Riley’s new film, “I Love Boosters,” was a vibrant, anti-capitalist fever dream. Everything about the movie–even down to its official poster–references the era of 1960s crime films such as “How to Steal A Million,” that blend crime, social criticism, and high fashion. This film does all the same things, but for a modern audience. 

It was as surreal as a Boots Riley film can be. There are stop motion characters in a world of real people, a building that is tilted at an almost 45-degree angle, though no one mentions it, and a demon model who takes the souls of his romantic partners by going down on them. Yes, you read that right.

The lighting and costumes were also colorful and visually pleasing. I was thanking my lucky stars that the main characters didn’t sacrifice being fashionable in their fight against capitalism!

These elements, alongside the writing and direction of Boots Riley, help to serve the film’s purpose. “I Love Boosters” is a satirical criticism of capitalism with plenty to-die-for fashion  moments along the way.

This review will contain spoilers!

The film follows a group of boosters (people that steal and resell clothes) called the Velvet Gang. When one of the boosters, Corvette (Keke Palmer), discovers that CEO and fashion designer, Christie Smith (Demi Moore), stole one of her designs and is selling it at her Metro Designers store, Corvette and her friends plan to steal from as many Metro Designers locations as they can.

Their cover: getting hired to work at the store.

At the same time, executives at the Metro Designers’ factory in China decide to implement teleportation devices to cut shipping costs. The employees also ask for better pay and working conditions, but Christie refuses to meet their demands. One of the employees, Jianhu (Poppy Liu), steals the device and teleports herself to America, where she plans to send all Metro Designers supply back to China until their demands are met. Eventually, she joins the Velvet Gang as they all have a vendetta against Christie. 

The way the employees are treated in this film is one of the most obvious critiques of capitalism.

They have to sprint to their lunch break, which is absurdly thirty seconds long, while the manager, Grayson (Will Poulter), gets a full hour. Corvette’s coworker, Violeta (Eiza González), gets a paycheck that is about $43,000, but after the company deducts money for employee uniforms and other costs, the check is reduced to just over $43. It’s over the top, but it gets the point across! 

Christie Smith is a symbol of capitalism in general and the “one percent.” She was livid that the boosters were stealing from her, meanwhile, she had already taken Corvette’s design and passed it off as her own. Christie also buys into her own self-importance and convinces others to believe her lies too, using propaganda. 

Throughout the film, there are a handful of side characters, such as Dr. Jack (Don Cheadle), who disguises his pyramid scheme as a self-help program, and Crying Black Mother (Kara Young), a woman on the news who says she wouldn’t want people to “bear the burden of free housing.”

She and the others seem unimportant until the final act, where it is revealed they have been working for Christie the entire time, having had their skin surgically removed so they can wear the skin of other people and promote Christie’s ideologies undercover.

They represent people who have bought into capitalist propaganda so much that they will sacrifice their own skin (their wellbeing) to keep the system going.

One of the “skin people” says she once acted as Candace Owens! This could be taken solely as a dig at Candace, but there’s a bigger message behind it. It symbolizes how all media can be a tool to control the narrative. People with platforms, big or small, can influence the public and get them to support things that benefit the system but harm themselves.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Boots Riley movie without LaKeith Stanfield, who plays the demon model, also known as Pinky Ring Guy. His entrance to the film is jarring as he suddenly appears with no warning in an extreme, borderline invasive close-up, while Corvette is stealing from Metro Designers. Though he helps Corvette and her friends infiltrate Christie’s fashion show in the final act, the character’s purpose in the larger message of the film isn’t clear. On the surface he mostly adds to the surrealism, but in retrospect, it’s possible he represents the concept of sacrificing your soul for pleasure.

Most of his rare appearances in the film are when Corvette is in the middle of a plan with the boosters, and he tries to get her to go out with him. He could represent the temptation to give up the fight and give in to pleasure as a means of numbing oneself in the face of uncertainty. Or maybe he just symbolizes the bums we put up with to escape loneliness, who will actually suck the life out of us if we let them. Either way, Corvette rejects him completely, showing that she isn’t willing to give up her soul.

Refreshingly, the film doesn’t just criticize the problems with a capitalistic society; it offers solutions.

One being that we are most effective in fighting the system when we work together. 

Throughout the movie, Corvette hallucinates a giant ball of trash filled with overdue bills and eviction notices coming towards her, representing the dread and isolation of looming societal expectations. She also mentions many times that she feels alone.

As the film goes on, Corvette and the Velvet Gang gradually expand their circle, working with others to achieve a specific goal. By the end, Corvette isn’t alone anymore, and the giant ball of trash becomes small enough to pick up and throw away. It shows that fighting alone can be unbearable, but the way to handle the burden is by uniting.

At the end of the day, we have more in common than we think.

Another interesting detail is that the teleportation device has two other settings: deconstruction mode, which reverts objects into the raw materials that made them, and situational acceleration mode, which accelerates objects into what they will be in the future.

Deconstruction mode represents that the system doesn’t necessarily need to be destroyed. We need to take a closer look at the individual moving parts and understand how it works so we can rebuild it. Situational Acceleration mode represents future possibilities.

In the final act, there is a protest at Christie’s fashion show. On one side are the protestors, on the other, those who were guests invited to the show. When the boosters use acceleration mode on everyone, we see what they will be in the future: both sides are protesting together. When Corvette and her friend Sade (Naomie Ackie) accidentally accelerate a police car, it becomes a futuristic vehicle with all kinds of weaponry and destructive features. But when they accelerate the people, it makes them into a version of themselves that depicts unity.

That is how they win.

The film’s ending leaves us with a sense of hope. The Velvet Gang opens a community center to sell clothes, and Christie has to comply with the demands of the people who work in the Metro Designers factory.

It shows that regardless of how bad the world gets, future generations will still unite and fight for something better. This conveys a future of unity, a future that is hopeful in the face of bleakness, and it's a message the world needs to hear.