Howard Bragman spent his career as a respected publicist who used his platform to aid those in need of navigating the spotlight. From handling turbulent moments to announcing life’s biggest milestones, he actually became most known for his advocacy to the LGBTQ community. His activism helped support his clients as they openly shared their sexual orientation to the public. His death earlier this year was heavily felt in the community, and by his husband, Mike Maimone, who wishes to continue sharing Bragman’s legacy.

Maimone, who has had a music career as a band member and as a solo artist, has released two albums this year, Mookie’s Big Gay Mixtape and Borrowed Tunes, Vol. 2: Songs for You. The latter are covers of songs dedicated to Bragman as they were integral to their love story.

“Part of my therapy was to learn those songs and play those songs for him in our house,” he said. “Then I realized that recording them was the next process of that grief journey.”

These were mostly songs that Bragman introduced him to, and through the recording process he learned to let the songs speak for themselves. He said that he had never cried that much during the recording process, and there were many times where he had to take a step back, but he knew that this was the best way to face his grief.

“I’d rather confront those emotions than bury them, so that’s been my message as I discover that there are so many people that you never even realize are dealing with grief and loss and just navigating life and doing it elegantly and putting positivity into the world,” he said.

Bragman loved being a muse, and Maimone remembers a touching moment in the hospital while listening to K.D. Lang’s cover of “Hallelujah”. It was the last time that Bragman was able to summon the strength to give Maimone a hug and said to him, “If you can’t write a song now, babe, it ain’t my fault.”

“There are no words for Howard Bragman, and it gives me joy to talk about him and to sing about him,” Maimone said. “I really do think that’s just my purpose now, that my love doesn’t end just because he’s gone, so that’s where I’m putting it; telling his story.”

Maimone decided to bring these cover songs to places that were important to both of them, such as New York and Chicago, and play these songs to family and friends in the places that they called home. The song that has become his favorite to play is “Something So Right” by Paul Simon. Bragman sent it to him last summer, telling him how beautiful it was and how great of a cover it would be for him. He knew it was difficult to sing and never got a chance to try it before Bragman’s passing, but it feels like he’s singing it to him every night now.

Before releasing the covers album, he shared Mookie’s Big Gay Mixtape, which is just that - a mixtape. Maimone, whose nickname in high school was Mookie, purchased a $30 tape deck with a microphone and ran a bunch of newly recorded material through it to “make it sound all gnarly” and added spoken word transitions.

“I wanted it to be a mixtape, I didn’t want to just call it a mixtape,” he said. “I wanted it to actually have some of those elements from the 90s when my friends and I used to make these little tapes for each other or if you were crushing on someone you would put together a tape with a track list that was very carefully thought out.”

Once the nickname Mookie stuck, variations of it were tossed around, including Mook the Bear. It came full circle when Maimone was commissioned to write and record the theme song for queer Western romance graphic novel, Tommy Dakota and the Shootout at the Burgundy Ten. As a thank you, artist Vinnie Rico drew a depiction of him that gave him the idea to commission another for the album. He asked Rico, “Can you draw me riding a bear and can the bear be shooting lasers out of its eyes and possibly we’re flying?” and Rico delivered.

The idea for the album cover was inspired by Bragman and his influence on the LGBTQ community. He encouraged people to be authentic in a time when it was judged, and that left an impression on Maimone.

“The idea for my solo project had always been to harness that era of my life where music was strictly fun and I didn’t think about doing it for a living,” he said. “This felt like the group of songs to really lean into that further and channel that era of my life and just make it fun, positive and to encourage people to be authentic.”

The impact of Howard Bragman will not be lost to time, thanks to Mike Maimone and his dedication to preserving Bragman’s legacy. He has found a way to make music that is both authentic to himself and a way to spread the same positivity that his husband did. With moments of grief come moments of joy, and through it all the never-ending love of two people shines on.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Earl

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was in third grade when I wrote my first song. I don’t remember what it was about, exactly, but it had all the hallmarks of an Ava Earl piece - longing, imagination, hopeless romance. Much like running, another life-long passion, it felt freeing to create music.

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was my freshman year of high school. I played my biggest crowd to date and opened for then-up-and-coming pop star Maggie Rogers. I sang a couple of wrong lyrics and played a few wrong notes, but no one seemed to notice. I was presenting myself truthfully and, not for the first time, was met with a kind and listening audience.

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was a year later, when I first attempted actual banter. I told a true story about the inspiration for my song, and made the audience cringe and laugh and applaud when I had finished. After years of practice, that night my stage presence felt natural, like something I was made to do. Singing became like breathing; something I did constantly, not always thinking about it.

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was the first time I recorded music with a band. It was my fourth time in a studio but this felt different. It was as if the music were weaving itself around me, wrapping me tightly in a cocoon of creation - my music imbued with the beauty and talent of everyone I was working with. I truly learned what it was like to create in that moment, and I swore I had never been happier. I thought to myself, “I could do this forever.”

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was at cross country practice, when a male teammate asked me why I was self-promoting “so much.” Why would I not pour everything into something I loved, something I was proud of? The answer felt so obvious for me, that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought or if I was being obnoxious. I would suffer greater embarrassments to be heard.

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was when my sibling looked me in the eyes and told me how much they loved my new song. Usually my mom would be the first to hear it, but it was a present and I wanted to run it by somebody trustworthy without ruining the surprise. Most songs I write for myself, but giving a song away places an extra weight and I wanted it to be great. Even if I just played songs for my family, I knew I would always write music.

The moment I knew I wanted to make music was when a girl referred to me as a “campus celebrity” in college. There is nothing I would rather be known for.

I’m looking forward to more of these moments; times in my life that underscore what I knew when I wrote that first song: that I am doing exactly what I was meant to do.

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It has been nearly 50 years since the release of independent musical comedy horror film Rocky Horror Picture Show, and despite initial negative reviews, the film has since become a cult classic.

One of the stars of the film, Barry Bostwick, brings his experience on the film to comic and entertainment conventions year-round, including an appearance at this year’s FAN EXPO Chicago. Displayed at his table is one of his character’s more memorable outfits from the film, a pair of white men’s briefs. The pair is signed by Bostwick and available for purchase.

“I’m a bit like a traveling salesman,” he said.

He has also been making Rocky Horror-themed clocks. Bostwick said that one of his hobbies is pottery, and has expanded into jewelry making and warping records for some of his clocks. These items are not only available at conventions, but can be purchased on his official website.

Interacting with fans is a major aspect of conventions, and he loves discussing this film with them.

“Whenever I talk about it to some people who know more about it than me, they always remind me of something that I had forgotten,” he said. “What I carried away from the experience mostly are the people that I worked with and the pride of the message of the movie. We never thought of that when we were making it, that it was going to have some social impact. We just thought we were making a fairy tale.”

One of his most memorable fan interactions involved a mother and small daughter who was dressed as Nell Campbell’s character, Columbia. The mother encouraged the daughter to show Bostwick how she danced for “The Time Warp”, and he decided to join her in front of the table to dance with her. When it got to the part of the song that says, “But it's the pelvic thrust” that was when Bostwick realized he did not think that through. He immediately went back behind his table and has had a good laugh about it ever since.

On the last day of FAN EXPO Chicago, Bostwick joined Rocky Horror Picture Show co-star Susan Sarandon on stage for a panel that marked her first convention experience. They spoke about meeting 50 years ago and how that small film they made sent a message about authenticity.

“48 years later, this little film we did still not [only] preaches that but brings that to the fore I think for the audiences,” Bostwick said during the panel.

“I think that’s why it has been around that long and says that it’s ok to be who you are, whatever that is,” Sarandon added. “I think that also gave people a community where you can go… and dress up however you want and be with people who say it's ok to have fun and to throw popcorn and to be whoever you want. I like it better than church.”

“And I think it is church and I think we’ve been preachers for this church for 48 years,” Bostwick said.

They shared stories about the wet, cold filming days that eventually gave Sarandon pneumonia and how the original film was meant to be in black and white until the introduction of Dr. Frank-N-Furter and the signature red lipstick would have been revealed. Sarandon also told the audience that Bostwick maneuvered walking in high heels better than she did.

“Those high heels were so high and you could manage them,” she said.

“Did you step on my toe?” he asked.

“Probably,” she replied.

“Somebody said during that part of the movie you stepped on my toe,” he said.

“I guess believe them, I’m not going to argue,” she said.

Bostwick also discussed how his favorite part of meeting fans is learning more about them.

“I always find out so many interesting things about the fans,” he said. “The first day here I had an ER doctor and a brain surgeon in front of me, and they were huge collectors of all of this fan art stuff. I thought that’s really fascinating to me so now I’ve taken it to I always ask people ‘what do you do for a living’ and I’ll question them about [that] because I know what I do for a living, and I don’t even know how I do it for a living, but I’m fortunate enough to still do it.”

Playing Brad Majors turned out to be a defining moment for Bostwick’s career, and he is more than willing to share his experience with anyone who asks. Rocky Horror Picture Show has charmed audiences for decades and given people a place to be whoever they want.



Please note: This article is being published at the time of the SAG-AFTRA and WGA strikes. Rocky Horror Picture Show was independently filmed and is not covered by the strike, which was confirmed by our SAG-AFTRA contact. Black is the New AP Style strongly supports the SAG-AFTRA and WGA unions.

Photo courtesy of Green Yang

It was a major step for Danny Janvier to turn his solo project, Output 1:1:1, into a trio.

Alongside Gene Converse and Victor O, they played their first show together at the end of 2019. More shows were lined up for the beginning of 2020, which ended up never happening as Canada and much of the world faced a global pandemic. For a few weeks, it was an occasional phone call or text message, checking in that everyone was safe and healthy. Fear changed Janvier’s perspective, and he couldn’t begin to consider writing new music because what about the music he was previously working on? Was it never going to be completed?

It became clear that this virus was not calming down any time soon, and he needed to find a form of escapism. Writing was his chance to free himself from the constant state of worry he seemed to have found himself in.

“It was a chance to not be in the mind of isolation, where you’re worried about where you’re going and what you’re doing,” he said. “I remember having [that worry] throughout that period and being able to write music was a way to express that fear differently and in a bit more of a healthy way.”

The lengthy lockdown periods in Canada gave the trio a lot of time to not only create complete pieces but also deconstruct them. It ultimately became the premise of their podcast, Cold Waves Of Comfort, where they build songs and discuss them with guests. It was unlike anything they had done before, and the end result, their album Rolling Corpse Pathetique, was unlike any other pandemic record.

“Each song was, for lack of a better term, created in its own isolation over a series of months to a year and a half,” Janvier said. “I spoke to my bandmates about digging each song off that album and building music around it; whether it’s deconstructed bits of that song, pieces of other songs that we’re currently working on, or we had tried and did not think we could take it any further like rejected ideas.”

The podcast stems from his love for demo records that he collected when he was younger. Recontextualizing music ideas was something that fascinated him from an early age and was something he easily incorporated into the podcast. What he found out that he also loved was having conversations with others and getting their reactions to the same piece of music.

“Hearing how folks describe what I’ve done puts into words what I cannot figure out myself,” Janvier said. “I could just say it’s depressing punk and leave it in a joking tone that’s diminishing to the work, but somebody else could have a sense of a more expressive way of describing the music.”

How his process worked for this batch of songs was if a song was initially written on a certain instrument, that is the one he would predominantly use. If he started on a synth, he would focus less on melody. If he started on bass, he would focus more on rhythm. At times he admitted that he focused on one sound in particular or edited something well beyond needing to be edited, but with the help of his bandmates he found a way that worked best for all of them.

The most rewarding part of this album was the song “Howl”, which was the first song he wrote on his Behringer Neutron synthesizer. He confessed that it may not have been his wisest purchase, but he wanted to learn how to use it and what better time than the present.

The song was inspired after a recent Thom Yorke live performance he saw, but every time he tried to replicate that feeling he had during the performance it felt forced. Instead he went for a beat that was more expansive, which gave way to the band improvising a few guitar lines. A multi-track guitar solo was the finishing touch that made it the final version.

“I couldn’t stop listening to it,” Janvier said. “It’s among the proudest I’ve been out of something I had written at that time.”

The album title was influenced by their song “Man Godiva and the Rolling Corpse”, where Janvier said the accusatory and depressing lyrics gave him this idea of French singer and lyricist Charles Aznavour not becoming the success that he was. What if he kept trying and failing? What if he lost everything?

With that perspective in mind, the rolling corpse became this cynical image of an Aznavour-like figure repeatedly rolling down a hill, lifeless and ceasing to exist. To add to this image, they stylized the word ‘pathetic’ to ‘pathetique’ to complete the album title.

Lily Mae Harrington feels most comfortable when she is near the beach.

Growing up in a rural beach town on Cape Cod, she watched tourists come and go while she got to explore the ocean year-round. She also explored music as everyone in her family played an instrument in some capacity. She went the classical voice route in middle and high school, performing in choir before eventually getting a scholarship to Westminster Choir College.

She said she learned the hard way that a major part of music was the creation process. Classical training and performing in musical theater did not give her the opportunity to hone in on any songwriting skills, and after a year in college she left to pursue acting.

“There’s something about specifically classical [music] that it’s all about really aligning the voice and getting a very pure sound,” she said. “There was something about that that I really liked and I think there was a discipline in that too that I really liked and needed. I think there was a comfort in that at a certain point too that this is the note you have to hit. There was something further for me like the exploration of sound past that that I eventually found.”

Despite finding a new path in acting that she was enjoying, she still felt a pull towards music. She began writing, just for her own musical fulfillment, and spent a few years concentrating on the craft before getting a co-writing credit on Sabrina Carpenter’s first album.

That accomplishment seemed to have been the moment she realized she wanted to make music. She realized she wanted to share her personal stories and emotions, and with that came her five-track EP, The Sun is My Lover.

The first song she wrote was “Maui”, inspired by her first solo vacation.

“I had a really spiritual, personal experience there after being by myself,” she said. “I felt very empowered as a woman alone traveling, specifically there. I think there’s always been a fear for me that that’s something I shouldn’t do.”

She not only conquered her fear, but that trip influenced her to really pursue music. Not writing for other people, not just acting; having something that is her own creation.

“Maui” sat on a shelf for a while as she continued to educate herself on songwriting. She went through a lot of self-exploration during that time, saying that the push for needing a brand or marketing tactic to add to an identity really had her thinking about her hometown and sense of peace being near water. It gave her the idea to write with a summertime, beach vacation theme, and while staying alone at her childhood home she found herself creating the lyrics and melody to “Lifeguard”.

She had walked down to the beach that she grew up at and spent some time sitting at the lifeguard stand watching the sunset. While that moment inspired the song, it was also a moment where she reflected on a six-year, on-and-off relationship that had just ended. She had never written a song about it, but felt right about it at that moment. It ended up being “Good at Lovin You” and gives a summer love vibe that helps create a narrative she didn’t realize she was establishing.

That same day she came up with the phrase, “the sun is my lover”. She sang it to herself that entire day, not really taking it seriously. Her initial reaction was that she had no intention of doing anything with it, but quickly noticed the joy in singing it. It brought out a part of her that she wanted to embrace more of, and in the end it became the title of the EP.

By tying in “Maui” and the final song, “Salty”, The Sun is My Lover goes from falling in love to falling out of love to loving who and where you are in life. Even when the song is unhappy or bitter, the bright soundscape still shines through.

“I felt like it really encompassed the summer and sun vibe,” she said. “I’m in all these different places in the world, but at the end of the day, the sun is always going down on me and this journey of independence through all of that.”

By sharing her love of the sand and the sea, Lily Mae Harrington brings a glittering approach to relationships. In each of these five songs, the sun shines a little brighter and the waves crash a little louder.

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Hilly Hindi is a confetti cannon.

When an idea comes to mind for the next parody for the YouTube channel The Hillywood Show®, it explodes from her in hundreds of colorful pieces. Her sister, Hannah, waits (or as she says, disassociates) for all the pieces to land before color coordinating them into several piles. Blue with the blue, yellow with the yellow… until every piece has been accounted for.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

Me, Jack and a good friend of ours, Joe, were at Primavera Sound Barcelona in 2022, and after a wild couple of days in which we saw the likes of Pavement, Beck and Fontaines DC play some memorable sets (often not coming on stage until around 2 a.m. due to the heat), we were feeling pretty broken and fragile. First on for the final day was one of the acts we were most eagerly anticipating for the whole weekend… The legendary Mavis Staples.

En route we were equipped with some of the finest baguettes filled with Barcelona's freshest ingredients, meticulously put together by Slam’s very own chef, Jack Batch, after two days of practise/eating little else than bread, cheese and cured meats. Immediately upon arrival at the venue, they were confiscated by security which was very upsetting.

We soldiered on however, and Mavis was first on inside an auditorium, the only indoor stage at the festival in a room so dark that the three of us kept stumbling over each other trying to navigate our way to a seat. Anyway, although it was absolutely packed, we managed to find three next to each other in the end and safe to say we were all absolutely blown away by the show. Not only were Mavis and her band out of this world (her voice sounded incredible), at 82 years old she accompanied the songs with some wholesome and at times hilarious stories full of her Mississippi charm. Glorious covers of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” and Funkadelic’s “Can You Get To That’ met the beautifully performed “Respect Yourself” and the set finished with “I’ll Take You There” - and oh my, did she.

It was the perfect remedy to mend our broken selves, sleep deprived from the previous couple of days. In the darkness we weren’t able to see each other’s faces, but as soon as the lights came on at the end of the show, it became clear that all three of us had been crying our eyes out at sheer greatness. And I’ve no doubt that we weren’t the only ones… In fact I’d bet that half of the auditorium was tearing up under the shadows of the stage lights. A gig we’ll never forget!

P.S. Much like a “bag store”, upon exiting the auditorium a space had been made to store our baguettes which we gleefully collected. A true happy ending.

I started singing at a super young age, so as far back as I can remember I wanted to be a singer for a living.

When I was around 12 or 13 years old, I rented the Woodstock ‘69 documentary from the public library and it put a spell on me that day and forever. It sort of flipped a switch; the culture of it, everything so communal and connected, fucking unparalleled music pouring out from everywhere and then most of all, how literally EVERYBODY showed up for it. It felt more like a religion and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to relax until I found that high myself.

Now I can’t remember which came first, the documentary or the guitar, but my mom gave me her off-brand acoustic for my birthday that same year. I wrote my first song on a lawn chair in the backyard on that guitar, played it for my cousin Patty (approved), carved my name in its wood and from that point on, music was kind of all I did or cared about. It was like a bad infection or something and I was devoured by it. So within a few years of that, when I was in grade 10, I quit high school and moved out of my parents’ house, headed to the nearest big city (Toronto) and started pursuing music full time.

In short order I met my first legit manager on the streets there and everything solidified fast after I signed with him. For better or worse, by the time I was around 16 or 17 years old, I knew there was no turning back and that I was all in.

I guess the thing about watching that documentary alone in my bedroom a million lifetimes ago, is that it sort of permanently messed with my DNA, like I saw God or something and I never came back from that…60s and 70s music culture would continue to have an intoxicating effect on my career choices as I imagine a lot of us would say. It was sort of the holy grail on how deep it can go collectively with music and society and shit if the conditions are just right. Nothing else does it for me like that. That unspoken thing is the reason why I started making music when I was young and it’s why I’m still here doing it for a living now instead of getting a real job.

j.

Photo courtesy of Dan Holodak Teal

By starting their band in the subways of New York, Bandits on the Run were able to bring certain aspects of busking in their live shows. This is especially true during performances at music festivals.

There is always an opportunity to attract new fans, sometimes even before a set time. The band will try to find an ideal location, perhaps near a food vendor or crowded rest area, and play a few songs acoustic. It gives those listening a taste of what’s to come later in the day and gives the band the chance to promote their upcoming performance.

“I just think there’s almost no better place to meet people than a festival,” Adrian Enscoe said. “We’re lucky, because of our performance experience busking we’re very used to interfacing with strangers in public and we actually get a little high from it.”

They believe that there are two important factors that help a festival crowd remember a performance: staying in the exact same outfits worn on stage, and handing out a piece of memorabilia. Both were put to great use this summer when performing at Summerfest.

Dubbed ‘the largest music festival in the world’, the 10-stage festival grounds span all music genres over the course of three weekends. Bandits on the Run didn’t get the opportunity to put their true busking skills to the test, but did hand out stickers and walk around the grounds in their stage attire. Regina Strayhorn compares it to becoming a real life cartoon character, and shared a story about how a woman wearing a similar outfit that night kept getting complimented on her performance. She reached out to the band and let them know that not only was she getting their praise but gave the band a listen herself and became a fan that night.

Interacting with fans is something they make sure to incorporate on and off stage. It becomes a two-way street of creating a lasting impression.

“What I hope is that people make friends or find someone new,” Sydney Shepherd said. “It’s one of my favorite things about talking to fans after the show. I think it’s a possibility of warmth and connection that can lead to things outside of gaining new fans who like our music.”

Their Summerfest performance was memorable for several reasons. Their set was on the BMO Pavilion stage, which holds 10,000 people and would later that night welcome The Avett Brothers as the headliner. It was a dream come true to open for them, especially for Enscoe, who will be performing later this year in the brother’s musical, Swept Away.

What they loved about that stage was that it was the biggest stage they’ve played to date. It gave them the opportunity to enhance the audience participation that is a staple in Bandits on the Run shows. Whether it’s supplying them with confetti poppers, getting down in the crowd with them, or asking them to make sounds of bells ringing, it is as much the audience making art as it is them.

“To be able to hear the effect of a bunch of people singing in this big space all together and the resonance of all the voices against the roof was really fun,” Enscoe said.

During their last song, however, Enscoe broke a guitar string and was left to play with only five strings. It was a little messier than they had wanted and left them feeling unsatisfied with the end of their set. The mood changed when they bumped into Scott Avett, who had caught part of their set and told them that it is a good thing when moments like that occur because the audience sees you for who you are and understands when something doesn’t go according to plan.

“It was extremely meaningful for all of us,” Enscoe said. “We’re an indie band that’s just coming up, and to hear Scott with Seth and the rest of the Avetts who have just had this incredible career… it’s just really important to hear that from a storied musician and really, really encouraging.”

A live performance from Bandits on the Run is one that shouldn’t be missed. Sure, their presence can be heard in their music and seen in their music videos, but witnessing them in their element is an entirely different experience. Find a list of upcoming performances here.