Prelude To a Lick
by Scott Hefflon
illustration by Eric Johnson
Don’t Panic! This is merely our August issue. No need to be alarmed or get overtly excited. Somebody may notice and you’ll lose all hipster credibility for showing emotion. So, Lollipop took its summertime break, and we scraped together enough material for yet another frolicky and frothsome issue. That momentum thing wasn’t exactly happening, and I don’t like iced coffee. Don’t worry, I don’t get it either. But now we’re back on schedule, or at least as close as we ever come, and we’ve got some swell stuff sizzling on the back burner. Allow me to elucidate, elubriate, elaborate, or just stretch this a little longer.
In September, we’re starting another magazine. Despite a dizzying array of potential names, we decided to run with Lollipop Freezine. It should alleviate additional identity crises and make introducing ourselves a bit more concise. The freezine will be available only in the Boston area (at the moment) and will cover more general I’m-in-my-twenties-and-I-live-in-Boston sorta stuff. That’s about as far as we’ve gotten. Basically, there’ll be condensed selections from Lollipop Magazine, and more regional-oriented. Hey, we’re here for our community.
Also in September, we’re going to be re-vamping our web page in a major way. For those of you online, we’re hoping to give you something a tad more interactive than “look, here’s our magazine on your computer. Neat, huh?” Again, that’s about all I know about that stuff. I’ve hired some really sharp people to take meetings with me, and school me on all the technical jargon so I can sound all smart and shit. Links. We’ll have links galore.
One other new thingy we’re doing is Giveaways. We usually give away a choice of CDs when you subscribe to the magazine, but we’re in the process of underwriting some radio shows and giving away other people’s CDs on the air. Cool, huh? At this point of having no point, I’d like to thank Carmelita and Mikey Dee from WAAF and WMFO, respectively and respectfully, for interviewing my lame ass on the air. I am again reminded why I write. I make a lousy public speaker. And Carmelita; Bill, Lex, and I again apologize for making absolutely no sense whatsoever when trying to explain how, why, and what we do for a living. As symbolic as it seems, gibberish probably didn’t further the cause of, um, whatever our cause is.
Oh yeah, one other thing we’re doing – with the new magazine going on, we’ve brought in a new local music editor. Mark Phinney is the man, and has already booked our first show for late September. He’s a rockabilly/surf/punk kinda guy, so it should be no surprise that our first show has those leanings. Our next show is supposed to be Boston punk. If you’re a regional punk band and you actually had the imposing $2 required to buy this magazine, send your demo to Mark. Everyone should send their demos to Mark. He has a title now, and I fully intend to make him earn it.
Look how many paragraphs I’ve written thus far without referencing how alone and miserable I feel. Sniff. Perhaps it’s that certain recent events have put my pathetic pain into a bit of perspective, or perhaps it’s that I’ve discovered the crisp, refreshing stupor of numerous gin and tonics. Maybe it’s just that my desk is directly in front of the air conditioner that’s been cranking all summer. I’ve not a care in the world until the electric bill comes. Until then, enjoy your summer, do summery sort of things, and, um…