photo fabulously selected by subscriber Kristin Houser, the Medici family to my Renaissance; the Jane Pratt to my Cat Marnell. want pics of your tricks here? sub and send them to me. speaking of, Kristin has her own newsletter, Future Explored, covering the latest in science and tech every week. cop it
lil story for the sluts:
Look, sometimes Both Things Are True — this is my DBT catechism and cliché; both things are true — and it is both completely fucking ridiculous and absolutely fucking correct, what Tom Storm said. We’ve skated together forever, and had just spent some time on a freshly poured, tiny little jackknife of a temporary transition in a suburban Buffalo parking lot during skatecation IV, my annual return to WNY for the express purpose of shredding/locus of my entire life.
A jagged little lip fronted by a construction fence, inches of angle, and we’re throwing the fun stuff here: front slashes, front rocks, rock & rolls (judo and vanilla), no comply tails, feeble tail grabs, throw away tries at blunts with a nose grab back and body varial switch 50s.
me, no comply tail. shot by tom storm
This little butterfly knife of a spot, cutting between the rib bones, scores on a scrying mirror reflecting a happy sacrifice to come when I snap the board and turn the lights out on skatecation after he lays down a four down that puts down a vintage x factor ramp, the kind your friend had and you’d hit after some THPS — a blunt and a Zubaz Blue Light tallboy and we’re done, done right.
tom storm, wallride to fakie. shot by me
And a few days later he texts me ‘its sick to see two legends sessioning shit the way we do,’ along with a link: Tony Hawk and Mark Gonzales on what now must only be known as ‘The Gonz Curb,’ a curved slice of paradise set against glass and church and traffic. Gonz hits this thing on the fucking regular, and he’s trying to do a lil riding nose blunt off while Hawk hits some slappies.
It is patently ridiculous, in both skill and influence, to compare us in any way, shape, or form to these two (although Tom’s considerably closer than me). But he’s fucking right; here’s two guys right from the fucking pantheon playing around on a curb.
We’re worlds away and exactly the fucking same — both things are true.
So here’s what I loved this spooky season, spellbinding in their variety, their alchemy, their impossibility, and their similarity. As always, what passes for my methodology can be found here; just remember these are capsules, not critiques. Go to YouTube for that shit. Ok here they are!
Four the Sluts: October ‘24
shane o’neill, ‘shane goes 2’
O’Neill’s got a rep for Terminator-esque destruction, and it’s fucking on; he snaps and locks into grinds like a staple gun, pulls tricks up off of flat with the same sharp ease with which you or I breathe. It’s a kind of precise violence — skating-as-scalpel — best scored by Beach House, and a singular display of skill released at a cadence that’d make Frank Ocean proud. O’Neil is part of a handful of skaters who can drop parts that feel like videos in and of themselves (see also: Torey Pudwell) and who have an entrepreneurial bent which kind of seems to jog with their style — see also Paul Rodriguez, and, to a more blatant extent, Mikey Taylor. YMMV, but love or hate the robotic vibe it is impossible to deny the absolute skill of the April boss.
parker guimond, ‘gods last wish’
O’Neill’s antipode in the best possible way, this scene vid straight out of Edmonton comes complete with a languid Canadian shredding that’s a fabulous introduction to the skating that I love; more than a few of them move at the speed of blunt smoke, a strange echo of the Toronto Sound found 3,5000 kilometers to the east, with artistry and idiosyncrasies — raging fires and fully hung boardslides; bombs out of the oil sands and nollie inward heels off fat round rails — across Alberta spots most of us likely haven’t seen.
lilli werner/pocket, ‘lilli’
Werner’s first pro part, ‘Lilli’ absolutely meets the highest standard and, to me, loftiest praise any video part can receive: it makes me want to fucking skate. Opening with exuberance — fighting back when the board bites by going bolts on broken when she got broke herself and a switch fs wallride over a fucking bench being a particular highlight — she steers into the drama in the back half, featuring a fight prominently. It’s indicative for those who don’t know, and intoxicating if you’ve been there; blood and mud and the kind of full slams which come from full commitment, heart-bolstering slams that mean you’re all in and almost there, one of my absolute favorite things to experience. She runs at this ramshackle battlefield like a German Joan of Arc, charging it and charging me up, and the joy on her face and erupting from her crew are so pure; she deserves her flowers, balloon and otherwise.
alex havey, ‘i just died in your arms’
The title’s not a lie, and here’s another four for you: Mother. Fucking. Lightning. Line.
Tell me it doesn’t do it for you.
[more]
converse cons, ‘evergreen’
camel, ‘xxx_c4m3l.xxx.mp4’
corrupt age, ‘these dreams’
sour, ‘we love you plankton’
brendan cline, ‘logan faith part’
frederick schneider, ‘grain iii’
tiago lemos, ‘city soldier’
chris russell, ‘oj wheels part’
nike SB, ‘20 years of grant taylor’
jenkem, ‘skating the wreckage of hurricane milton’
rj hample/skate jawn, ‘bert’
tristan warren, ‘moneytime’