The Wire
David Keenan
The convulsive beauty of the music of 17 year old Marianne Nowottny is a delicately balanced combination of warped teenage nihilism, otherworldly visitation and sheer joy-in-creation. Both as a solo artist and as a member of the Shell duo with her high-school buddy Donna Bailey, New Jersey's neurotic teen queen has styled her own magical world-view with nothing but a beat-up old synth and an infernal vocal style that could out-bellow Diamanda Galas. "With Shell we talk about broken hearts and teen suicide in a jumpy and angrily fun way," Nowottny declares. "Whereas when I'm by myself my music seems oddly timeless and sophisticated in a style that really just bloomed through teaching myself how to play." Nowottny was discovered by Mark Dagley, formerly of Boston art-rockers The Girls and his wife Lauri Bortz hanging with a bunch of dumb stoner kids outside the local used CD store. "We always saw this couple walking down the street looking so nice and sophisticated," she explains. "Being kind of punched-out, colourful kids we were fascinated every time we saw them. One day I saw Lauri by herself carrying books and I ran up to her and asked what she was doing. It turned out that she was taking books she wrote and published herself to a local bookstore. I told her I wrote poetry as well. She was interested in my friends and me for a fashion shoot for VERY, her friend's magazine. After that project she published my poetry and I always came over to talk because I only lived a street away. I played her a Shell tape that Donna and I had recorded on a hand held interview recorder. They took a great deal of interest in it and Mark was very enthusiastic about it and was surprised by the different nature of my solo work. He couldn't believe the short amount of time I had been playing my keyboard. I became prolific with all the encouragement and thus recorded my first solo project, the Afraid Of Me CD." Dagley was right on the money; Afraid Of Me, released on the Abaton imprint, stands as one of the most satisfyingly uncategorisable slabs of outsider art to have surfaced in the past few years. The "sophistication" that Nowottny talks about in her solo work gives her debut CD an icily austere edge which totally belies her age, as the deep quaver of her voice booms over the jarring scorn of her skewered keyboard arrangements. "When I was small I tried to sing kind of like every other girl," she admits. "It was just this cracking pathetic falsetto but I finally learned to accept my own voice when I started singing along with Donna's piano playing." Nowottny grew up in New Jersey surrounded by a constant cabaret of belly-dancing music, oompah and classical Hungarian, which her well-travelled family would entertain with at get-togethers. Ever since she was tiny she had felt her artistic calling, beginning with the construction of little colourless dioramas of schools, malls and "scenes from Night Of The Living Dead". During high school she moved back and forth between her mother and father's place before moving in with friends on her 17th birthday. "I began to work at Burger King to start putting away money for myself," she says. "I started there when I was 16. I quit because summer came and I wanted to play music. I left the following message for the manager - 'Leaving to live the rock n' roll lifestyle...Chow!' But I came back to Burger King and the manager didn't mind at all because I brought back a picture of me and Joey Ramone." She had already started making music back in 8th Grade when she found out that her new friend Donna Bailey could play the piano. After hearing her rattle out a couple of Bette Midler songs Nowottny offered her some poetry to use as lyrics. "We were just two teenage kids looking for something else to do, something to show for our time," she recalls. "We began to dive into our own world with the music. We came up with the 'Shell Proverbs', certain philosophies, and of course lots of bedroom albums. We made all the covers with ink and crayon with the usual professional contents of acknowledgements and song titles. We decided that because the music that we really liked inevitably had tiny disagreeable ingredients we'd just make our own personal music that we could listen to all of the time. Thus...Shell. I moved away from Donna due to family problems and became sad and lonely being a straightedge new kid. So I bought a keyboard and practised Shell songs and taught myself new songs to bring back to Donna." Shell's debut CD (their first official release being the Shell vs. Neu! cassette), Shell Is Swell, is all maniacally deranged pop-arrangements with layers of erupting atonal synth and fuzz guitar underlining Nowottny and Bailey's breathless vocal gush, a genuinely experimental hybrid. However, Nowottny's wary of these kinds of terms. "I don't know why but I don't like the word experimental," she admits. " It just seems to come naturally. Solo project wise, if I try to be influenced it sounds the same and if I try to create in a vacuum it turns out the same as well. I don't think I can escape this certain self-made standard. With Donna it's collaborative. She had taken musical training and her way of playing shows it. The Shell songs sound more pop. I really don't think of myself as being an 'outsider', I think I'm maybe just more self-aware because I had to grow up fast with family problems and moving. The music gave me a sense of responsibility of what goes along with making it. I look back gratefully because everything taught me something." Something that scars all of her work is a deeply nihilistic streak, a bleak worldview that bubbles to the surface in suicidal fantasy and spasms of hysterical antisocial theatrics. "I'm intimidated by social pressures to do anything," she asserts. "Encouragement to pollute, but don't pollute your bodies. Industries are scary - my peers are practically growing up dead and are too stupid to realise - they're probably so depressed because they subconsciously infer all these things. There's no love in art in New York. Artists can't even live like artists because loft spaces became a trendy way to present yourself as a yuppie jerk. Why not be nihilistic? Unless there's a world movement to control the disgustingly large number of people and the regurgitation of mass poison from factories, there is no hope. Not even for music or anything. I get such waves of resentment for the human race but I think of how hypocritical I am, depending on a convenient civil living system. I can't help but question this modern standard of living but I always go with the flow and just have restless ideas. I'll just read philosophy and consider it a phase and go back to droning."
Udara Spotlight: Marianne Nowottny
"And, katydid, every time I kiss you/I get rigor mortis…." Lotus, M. Nowottny
Looking for something new? Something unexpected? Marianne (Mar-ee-an-NAH) Nowottny is just that. She’s just a 17-year-old singer-songwriter from New Jersey with a Radio Shack keyboard and a dream. But the way-bent musical psychodramas on her debut CD "Afraid of Me" (Abaton Book Company) serve as a wakeup call to a world full of jaded post-everything knowitalls. When I mentioned some of the more obvious experimenters working along similar lines as Nowottny, she drew blanks. Charles Ives's experiments with quarter tones? Nope…. Stereolab's wink-and-nod use of dated analog equipment to make savvy pop? Never heard of ‘em….Of her naiveté, she says "I'm ignorant as to who discovered what. All I know is that I've discovered myself." Kenneth Goldsmith, New York Press A DJ on KFJC in San Jose California, Thurston Hunger, interviewed Marianne for an hour in September. During that interview, he used the word "delirium" to describe her music. I’d agree. At her best, Nowottny’s deep alto croon swoops over tilt-a-whirl cascades of notes and waves of freaked-out digital sound. I was inspired by Tori Amos. She made an entire pop album with a piano and a harpsichord! Combine a singer-songwriter with the flexibility of a keyboard and you can have an unlimited world of sound. This keyboard can make amazing psychedelic sounds and it can save a hundred of them! –M. Nowottny Nowottny’s musical life begins at the age of 13. Nowottny and her friend Donna Bailey lived in Southern New Jersey. They had formed the musical duo SHELL to fight teenage boredom. Donna has musical training; she would play keyboards and guitar, while Marianne would sing. Note that Marianne does not know how to play a keyboard yet. SHELL’s goal was to make music that we liked to listen to. We even created a songbook…It was our own world. M. Nowottny Bailey and Nowottny used a handheld interview recorder for their songs, and they created most of the SHELL songs while they were in eighth grade. But then Marianne had to move away to live with her father in north Jersey. Atter she left SHELL and her behind, she traded her computer in for a Concertmate 990 keyboard from Radio Shack. Then she started writing her own songs. I moved to Northern New Jersey and got sad and lonely…so I made up my own solo material. I taught myself how to play and I would sound it out in my mind. I didn’t have that standard sound. Music teachers said, "That wouldn’t be right. You have to end on this." I asked them,"why?" As she wrote her own songs in Newton, New Jersey, she didn’t know that the world of music would come a-knocking. Marianne ran into Lauri Bortz, a local playwright who also happened to be a publisher in her own right. Her husband, Mark Dagley, had been in noted NYC punk rock band the Girls. As Kenneth Goldsmith said in his NY Press article on Nowottny, "[Dagley and Bortz had] bailed out of the Lower East Side a couple of years ago after two decades of coping with high rents and small spaces." Nowottny started hanging out with Lori and Mark and in May 1998, Lori published a book of poetry by Marianne. Then one day, Marianne gave the first SHELL cassette to Lori and Mark. Soon they knew she had found a Good Thing. Although Mark and I had expressed much interest, Marianne didn’t didn't present us with the rudimentary Shell audio-cassette until we'd known her for over a year. We were blown away…Mark remastered the tape and we released it about a month later, in November ’98. –-Lauri Bortz After the first SHELL tape was released, Marianne and Mark Dagley began working on "Afraid of Me." They used the solo material that she had written. While Dagley added overdubs and loops on a few tracks, the liner notes proudly proclaim that "all vocals, keyboards, guitar, and percussion by Marianne Nowottny." Working with Marianne in the studio is very hard work and involves much intense listening. Her process of constructing songs seems to be intuitive…she rehearses a take or sound layer over and over until she finds what she is going after. –Mark Dagley When "Afraid of Me" was first released, New York City paid close attention. Marianne had read poetry in the City previously, but this album attracted many new sets of ears. The New York Times, New York Press, and Time Out New York wrote articles about Marianne. She played Tonic, the noted avant-music club, performed live on Jersey City’s legendary freeform station WFMU-FM with Dagley and Elliott Sharp, and now has her very own fan club! Udara: How would you like to introduce yourself? M. Nowottny: Here is a prolific young lady that had stumbled upon a hobby that is making a lot of press for her and opening a completely new and large door for her future. Recently, Abaton released "Shell Is Swell," a new collection of SHELL songs. Marianne is working on her next album, and in her interview on KFJC, she said that the new album still focuses on her words and keyboards. Udara: In your song "Asphalt Euphoria" on "Afraid of Me," you talk about fusion ("An injection of ignition/finally inspiring fusion") Where did you get that metaphor from? M. Nowottny: You know that cold fusion happens in that movie "The Saint," where the girl is the smart scientist? Udara: No, but I get the idea, I think…. M.Nowottny: When the fusion occurs, there’s this beautiful blue glow that happens. You know sometimes something washes over you, you get long breaths, and everything’s amazing for a while? It’s like you’re in love. "Asphalt Euphoria" is about a golden afternoon. I was in the backseat as we were driving up I-95. I’m so used to I-95, I can completely zone out and be content for hours and hours. M. Nowottny: Someday, I’ll drive anytime I want and get rid of those [bad] feelings anytime I want....
Shell Is Swell, and other terrible thoughts by Kurt Hernon
It sounds like something from the incredible post -amphetamine comedown of rust belt dissonance during the mid 1970's. Cleveland's Pere Ubu is a distant first cousin, although Shell has far more in common with that city's Electric Eels. Shell, much like the Eels, take awkward pleasure in crowbaring modern ideals of popular music into unrecognizable shards and splinters. Dark coffee - black, black, black - as speed's substitute. Driving things with such fury that everything around you seems to move at half the speed. Marianne Nowottny presses her ink-stained finger to Donna Bailey's clean white sheet and sliiides it across until the smudge becomes faint and then disappears. The sounds of isolation; separating oneself from caring...until it becomes tragic. The Electric Eels creepily shunned percussive noises. Shell embraces noises. Eels used guitar; Shell uses the keys. Both find some solace in the idea of a pain that goes unnoticed and unfelt. Expressive ugliness that pushes so far into the skin... When Bailey and Nowattny collide things - a poet/a pianist - the entire affair is so utterly challenging that reasons, reasoning, reasonable judgement, is beyond the ideal. Performance artistry would, sadly, imply intent. This is happenstance. Horrible, ugly, dischordant accidents - not errors, but accidents. Subconcious and uncontrolled. Terrible, frightening sounds. Hollow, so hollow. Almost empty. Anti-music becomes more musical than any earnest sense of the word. "What the fuck are they doing?" asks the asker. "What is that noise?" asking more. "It seems terrible. What is wrong with them?" continues to ask. "Turn it off" But I feel so much better when I listen to it. It comes from somebody, this music does. It comes from a real sense of something that maybe you or I don't understand, but then we shouldn't. We are different, all of us so utterly different. We don't share in the conventional spirituality within - and we can't. Shell reveals the differences. Them from us. Us from them. You from me, me from he, and he from she. Someone is not another, and Shell makes that clear. But then, of course, it never really is clear is it? As confusing as it seems, Shell is Swell makes it more so. The murkiness of people, the hidden souls that think and live and exist only deep within each and every one of us can hardly be revealed. But Shell attempts to pour out a little bit of that on this disc, and the results prove how entirely difficult we are inside. How the façade of our lives is something that we sell in order to establish an identity that can be tagged to us so that we justify our desires. It's not easy lifting the weight of formed identity in order to allow glimpses of an honest human spirit within. But then again, it's just music. However simple that may sound - it's another one of the lies we share when things seem to be beyond our control. Anti-music is really music, but ugliness is a matter of choice. When you hear the songs on this disc, you quickly decide that this is not something you want to deal with, but more than that, you understand that you have to. It's in the getting past the noise that we discover how other people percieve themselves and the world we live in. If that's not art, I don't know what is.
SHELL "Shell Is Swell" (Abaton/Import abaton@crystal.palace.net)
Vor 2 Jahren erschien ein Tape, das hiess "Shell vs. Neu!" und machte einen Radio-DJ in NYC ziemlich nervös. Denn die beiden Mädels, die darauf lustig vor sich hin homerecordeten, waren gerade mal 15. Und kannten Neu! Die kenne ich auch, Shell aber war bisher nur ein Ölkonzern. Das ist nun anders, denn diese CD ist unglaublich: man möchte "Fürsorge!" und "Jugendschutz!" rufen, wenn Marianne Nowottny (die mit ihren zarten 17 schon mal solo in der Knitting Factory spielt!) und Donna Bailey ihre schrägen Spässe treiben. Zwar nur ganz vage, aber doch spürbare Parallelen zur jungen Lydia Lunch, bubblegum singalongs - als Ulk viel zu gut. Das Info sagt dazu Gothteen-Girlpop, ich nenne es Trash-Audio-Art und gemastert hat das Ganze Elliot Sharp.
Karsten Zimalla WestZiet
Shell
Shell Is Swell
Precocious small-town teenagers have roughly two options when it comes to filling their free time: to create or to destroy. New Jerseyites Marianne Nowottny and Donna Bailey chose the more challenging of the two directions, and emerged this year with a roughshod, yet immensely lyrical collection of songs set uniquely apart from just about anything you’ve probably ever heard. Some may know Nowottny through her recent solo release, Afraid Of Me, a barbed concoction of Bollywood-influenced tonalities and not-quite-Goth fetishisms tethered by a strand of cryptically imagistic poetry that could easily stand its ground cleaved of any musical accompaniment. Nowottny’s vernacular impact (not to mention her husky, uniquely dramatic vocal delivery) can be fully felt on Shell Is Swell, especially given that Bailey penned most of the tunes, thereby giving her partner distraction-less construction of the topical stuff. You see, at age 14, when these now-17 year olds originally wrote this album’s material (I’m not kidding), Nowottny had yet to even touch a keyboard, much less discover her own musical voice through one. Notwithstanding, Shell Is Swell is an intense, densely formulated conflation of existential and cultural angst and romper-room hysteria that manages to invoke a beauty and maturity well beyond what one would think possible from two young societal satellites. It’s moody, broody, occasionally cracked and explosive, and staunchly grounded in honest, emotional expression. Well worth your overseas order.
Comes With A Smile –G. C. Weeks
Marianne Nowottny Discovers Herself
By Kenneth Goldsmith
© 1999 New York Press
By Kenneth Goldsmith
The next P.J. Harvey just got her first job at Burger King. Marianne Nowottny, a 16 year-old high school sophomore living in northwestern New Jersey has just released her first CD and, put simply, it's the most drop-dead debut I've come across in a long time. Afraid of Me smacks of Jeff Buckley's gut-wrenching Live at Sin-é and has the all self-confidence of Exile in Guyville-period Liz Phair; for its sheer hipness, this record might be the musical equivalent of Sadie Benning's Girlpower. It's a moment, and what a moment it is; thankfully it's been burned to disc. There's a mood here which merges the grainy black and white intensity of Leonard Cohen's Songs of Love and Hate with the exotic emotional break point of Bob Dylan's Desire. Imagine Marlene Dietrich doing cover versions of Tim Buckley's Lorca and you start to get the idea; if Om Kalthoum recorded a disc of Nick Drake tunes, it might sound like this record. Clocking in at a mere 30 minutes, there's not a dead moment on the disc—it leaves me drooling for more. And as impressive as the disc is, what's more astonishing is the potential here. Afraid of Me was recorded in a basement using nothing more than a primitive keyboard and a couple of portable cassette players. There's no production value to speak of, yet the power of the disc is undeniable--wait till some producer gets their hands on Nowottny. Nowottny sounds much older than she really is. She's got a touch of Marianne Faithful's gravely mezzo and sounds like she's seen more than her share of gin-soaked nights in smoky bars (but of course, she's five years shy of being able to legally drink). She's got an impassioned way of slurring phrases, stumbling over lyrics and slamming syllables together that gives an unexpected punch to her songs. Equally unexpected is her complex song structures, which dash in and out of conventional time signatures, moving in all directions at once. But the most radical feature of Nowottny's program is her use of alternate tunings. On one cut, "Harbor," she's de-tuned her keyboard and let her voice drolly snake around it in an obliquely related key. Reflecting the title of the piece, the feeling is that of a harbor full of ship's horns bellowing at staggered intervals on a foggy night; it's haunting stuff. Likewise, an instrumental cut simply titled "Instrumental," pits an off-kilter music box against a wobbly de-tuned synthesizer, creating a precariously clumsy musical dance. It's got all the grace of a six-year old at her first ballet recital—and all the intense nail-gnawing emotion to go with it. When I mentioned some of the more obvious experimenters working along similar lines as Nowottny, she drew blanks. Charles Ives's experiments with quarter tones? Nope. La Monte Young's investigations into microtonal drones? Nah. Stereolab's wink-and-nod use of dated analog equipment to make savvy pop? Never heard of ‘em. Danielson's home-grown warped religious pop? Daniel who? Of her naiveté, she says "I'm ignorant as to who discovered what. All I know is that I've discovered myself." Laurie Bortz also lives in Newton and runs the Abaton Book Company. She thought Newton was a pretty sleepy place too until she spied Nowottny--a 6' bleached-blonde who dresses in Victorian-era clothes--hanging out on the street with a group of friends. Bortz went over, introduced herself and told Nowottny she was a publisher and playwright. Nowottny told her she was a poet. Bortz asked to see some of her work and after getting a gander of Nowottny's words, she was impressed enough to publish a chapbook in an edition of 200. Not long after, Bortz had her pal Uscha Pohl, a fashion designer, gallerist and scenester of the Tribeca boutique Up and Co., stage a photo shoot on location in Newton using Nowottny and her high school gang. Garbed in skin-tight "uberbabe" t-shirts, the teenagers looked like they were straight out of Kids. Suddenly, something was happening in Newton. Bortz and her husband Mark Dagley, an artist and one-time guitarist for the legendary punk band The Girls, bailed out of the Lower East Side a couple of years ago after two decades of coping with high rents and small spaces. They found themselves a huge loft for next to no money in Newton, which is about an hour outside Manhattan—if you have a car—which, being true New Yorkers, they don't (Nowottny also doesn't drive. She uses the New Jersey Transit buses compulsively). Since moving there, Abaton's been busy issuing a steady stream of high-quality artist's books. Their small catalog includes a handsome volume of Bortz's plays and a series of wonderful artist's pamphlets by such well know figures as George Condo and Olivier Mosset. A few months ago, I found Abaton's first audio release in my mailbox, a cassette by a duo called Shell. As it turns out, Shell is Nowottny and a fourteen-year-old pal, of hers from South Jersey, Donna Bailey. It's a strange affair: echoey vocals and keyboards mix bits of found sounds and music. The title of the disc is Shell vs. Neu!, which refers to the tracks of the avant-German band which Dagley mixed in with Nowottny's whispering "LSD" over and over. Nowottny told me that the genesis of the sessions was a series of acid trips that she and Bailey did out of sheer boredom in Donna's room. They'd just drop a bunch of acid and let the tape roll. To kill time, they'd scribble handmade cassette covers with crayons and plaster them with commercially available stickers. It's hard to exactly pinpoint where all this sophistication and experimentation comes from. Nowottny's just an intensely creative kid who's been locking herself in her room making art by her own rules. She splits her time between her divorced parents, one who lives in South Jersey and the other who lives in Newton near the Pennsylvania border. Nothing much happens in either place. Nowottny told me that the most exciting event in Newton is the army of black bears who rifle through the trash. She adores life at Millville High School, where she's been named art student of the year for the past three years (I can't imagine there's much competition) and is an avid reader of sociology and biology textbooks—just for fun. Her mom was a classical pianist but her real influence came from her addiction to Indian variety shows and Bollywood films which aired on local cable stations every Sunday when she was a kid. It gave her an exposure to alternative tunings, a practice that she carried into grade-school choir practice, much to her teacher's chagrin when she began singing in a different key from the rest of the group. Nowottny thought it sounded great. But Indian pop songs were just the tip of the iceberg in her home: family belly dancing sessions and hearty rounds of German oomph songs were regular events. There were also Japanese theme nights where the whole family would dress up in traditional samuari garb and eat sushi. All of this in rural New Jersey. What's next? Nowottny's got a ton of ideas: she'd like to remix symphonies with industrial music. Machines with orchestras. Drills and cellos. German cabaret music with Egyptian music. And then there's more Shell stuff, which is going to be recorded this summer when school's out; it'll veer away from the previous acid-drenched incarnation and head down a more pop-based road. More practically, there are plans for Abaton to remix and flesh out Afraid of Me into an album-length CD, with a bunch of new songs including one about Hunter S. Thompson. In the best case scenario, Nowottny will hook up with a sympathetic producer, one who will realize all her remarkable ideas into some extraordinary music, the likes of which we've never heard before. In the worst, she'll go blazing into mainstream rock history the way of Smashing Pumpkins and Led Zeppelin. Either way, you've only just heard the beginning of this story. (Marianne Nowottny can be found daily after school at the Burger King in Sparta, N.J. Her CD can be purchased at Other Music or ordered directly from Abaton Books, 116 Spring St., Newton, N.J. 07860, tel. 973-300-9886 / fax 973-300-0714)
Marianne Nowottny “Jesus-In-A-Jiffy / Sequin Serenade” 7”
Abaton Book Company
Read Magazine, Adam Liebling
Marianne Nowottny is a singer/songwriter who’s ethereal voice has been compared to Tori Amos’. She has been written about in the New York Times, she’s played the Knitting Factory… and she’s only 16. I left my record player at my parents’ house and couldn’t listen to this, but it seems very interesting (especially as Rosetta Stone is listed as her favorite band !!). (I just wanted to add here that Rosetta Stone rule). (Oh one more thing, I know they totally ripped off the March Violets and Sisters of Mercy’s sound, but they’re still great!). (Not that you care, because I don’t think many goths read this). (But if you are into goth, don’t Rosetta Stone totally rule??) Anyhoo, keep your eyes and ears out for Ms. Nowottny. She is going places!
Marianne Nowottny Afraid of Me
(Abaton)
Peter Carbonaro
Fast Forward
Tired of the cookie-cutter female singer-songwriters of today? Well, today might just be your lucky day. This CD by Nowottny, a sixteen year old high-school student from New Jersey, manages to be disconcerting and otherworldly, succeeding on the strength of little more than a Concertmate keyboard and Nowottny’s throaty, swooping voice and inscrutable lyrics ("Don’t fade to blur/The red lions sleep around her/Silence static’s like raw nerves"). But while you’re scratching your head at those lyrics and that voice, you’ll find yourself listening intently to see what comes next. What you'll find next are lyrics that deal with lust and emptiness and despondence -- impressively mature subject matter, delivered in an incredibly unique style. And that is Nowottny’s lure -- she's succeeded in cultivating a fanbase of adults and attracting the attention of such luminaries as the New York Times. Although Afraid of Me can be a bit too obscure at times, and is a tough CD to find -- a field trip to Other Music, anyone? -- like all good things it’s worth the effort.
Marianne Nowottny
Adam Liebling
Afraid Of Me, Abaton Book Company
To label this Goth would be limiting. This is superb songwriting and performing by one young woman, who can only be called an Artist. She paints soundscapes with the thick brush of talent. A full wash of dreaminess, great swipes of haunting textures, a detailed pointillism of words, emotions, disturbing images and circus melodies, dabbed closely together to trick your ears into thinking a song is just a song, while the close listener hears each dot of energy and emotion. Would you believe she was born in the 80's? In high school, I could barely string enough words together to make a complete sentence, let alone write the 16 masterpieces of music and poetry featured on the album (as well as sing and play all the keyboards, guitars, and percussion). Who needs a museum to witness great Art?
Read Magazine, Adam Liebling
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