Author: Jason Toney (page 3 of 22)

October 12, 2025 / 0 Comments

At Braze Forge 2025, AI Isn’t Magic. It’s Infrastructure.

At this year’s Braze Forge conference, AI was more about practical applications than a magic show. The product launches were the most advanced tools imaginable but presented as part of the natural evolution of computational power: exponential, yes, but familiar.

In the AI Decisioning Masterclass, the presenters drew throughlines from the space race of the 1950s and 60s—when calculations were done by hand on chalkboards because the computers couldn’t handle the math—to today, when we carry supercomputers in our pockets. Hidden Figures scenes ran through my head as my definition of Artificial Intelligence both expanded and became more grounded.

Throughout the sessions I attended, the focus was on the practical integration of AI in consumer marketing systems, rather than the more sensational text- and image-generation. This shift in emphasis prompted me to seek examples of what’s possible for a Fortune 500 enterprise compared to a mid-size company or startup.

For nimble corporations, the conversation has already shifted from efficiency to effectiveness: moving from “try AI” to ROI-based experiments tied to real-world operations.

For smaller teams, the challenge is time and capacity, making it even more essential to anchor every experiment to meaningful growth targets and assess whether the benefits outweigh the costs.

You can’t take advantage of these tools if you haven’t tied them to real business goals. And you’ll fail if you don’t empower people—real, live humans—to do the thoughtful, complex groundwork: implementing, monitoring, and adapting as the machines learn. This human touch is integral to the success of AI implementation.

AI isn’t a wand you wave and presto-chango.

It’s the newest and possibly the fanciest tool in the box, but still, just a tool.

A black and white image of the jumbotron in the Michelob Ultra Arena highlighting an older Las Vegas Aces fan

October 3, 2025 / 0 Comments

The WNBA is for EVERYBODY

After the epic Game Five between the Aces and the Fever, I stopped for dinner and a drink at a gastropub inside Mandalay Bay. Vegas fans were still buzzing in the casino walkway. Inside, I was chatting with the bartender about how packed the Michelob Ultra Arena had been.

That’s when the woman sitting next to me chimed in:

“That’s all because of Caitlin Clark.”

I couldn’t let that pass.

“Well, no, the Aces were selling out long before Caitlin.”

She went quiet for a beat. Then she opened up.

“You know this was my first sporting event ever, and we came here just for this. I used to make fun of the boys for loving sports, but now I get it.”

From there, the script melted away. The Indiana Fever fan lit up about Vegas’s Chelsea Gray and A’ja Wilson. She loved watching the coaches prowl the sidelines, their passion and bluster on full display. She and her husband told me they were from near Fresno and were thinking about attending games in the state. The Valkyries were closer, obviously, but they had Southern California roots and might want to spend more time with my beloved Sparks.

“I’m 70 years old and I’m having so much fun,” she said.

Of course, she was having a great time. Despite her opening salvo, she respected the players, the atmosphere, and the community. That Fox-News-crafted passive-aggressive comment was a line that could have ended the conversation before it began if I’d let it.

The reality? You don’t spend time and money on the WNBA because of one player. You stay because the league is joyful, inclusive, and impossible not to love once you’re inside it.

So I offered a light corrective, not an attack. Just enough space for this new fan to reveal those true feelings. And once she did, we kept talking until the restaurant lights came on—about basketball, about California, even about AI.

I began this season worried that the newcomers were barbarians at the gate, eager to transform the vibes and culture of this league into something I wouldn’t recognize. By the end of my last game of the year, I’d found common ground with folks who, on the surface, embodied exactly what I feared.

Instead of us playing to type, though, we found shared joy because if you love this game, you love this game. You might be able to connect with your tribe online by celebrating Caitlin Clark and no one else, but after cheering in person with thousands of other fans, you’ll come to realize that this is your real community, and it’s better over here.

And if we get into conversation, I’ll politely remind you that the WNBA is for everybody.

A female and a male coworkers are working in an empty open space office

September 1, 2025 / 1 Comment

Labor Day Reflections: Returning to Work in a Changing World

Two weeks ago, I resumed a familiar commute. Catch the bus on Ventura Boulevard (or Riverside Drive) and head to The Pointe in Burbank. The only change was that at the split elevator banks, I turned left instead of right and took the lift to The CW, where I now lead digital research and insights for its free streaming platform.

Although LA is a sprawling metropolis, it’s striking how Hollywood feels like a small town.

When a friend responded to my news of a new job with exuberance, I reined in her enthusiasm. Unless I’m at a stadium watching my favorite teams compete, I find little to cheer about these days. I’m grateful to be employed, but I’m not popping champagne. My reaction to my change in employment status is more like Venus Williams playing tennis in 2025: I’m just happy to have subsidized healthcare. That people want to pay me a living wage and value my skillset, experience, and mind in today’s economy is almost gravy.

Labor Day is a holiday that began when the federal government sent the National Guard to Chicago to suppress a labor strike and boycott that disrupted railroad service across more than half the country. Federal troops shot and killed over two dozen people.

Americans tend to repeat history.

Workers of the Pullman Palace Car Company were striking over layoffs and a reduction in wages (but not with an equivalent decrease in the cost of living). Americans were generally more sympathetic to the cause of the ordinary person at that time. Today, we’re living in a time when people tend to side with business billionaires over the working class. This country has long held the belief that, politically, “corporations are people.” More recently, however, we have culturally leaned into the idea that individuals are corporations and have begun acting accordingly. That is to say, soulless.

I thought about this a lot during my job search, when I was inundated with advice about building my brand. In all honesty, that’s the last thing I want to do. What I lamented more than anything was not having spent the last decade cultivating and maintaining relationships with colleagues from past work lives that I truly enjoyed. Reaching out via LinkedIn during my time of need, but not before, felt like the lamest thing in the world. I don’t even have you in my phone? What kind of desperate ghoul am I?

No personal brand building was as effective as interacting with real people. My work experience was a key factor when my résumé successfully navigated its way through the algorithmic automation of the modern career portal and landed in the inbox of a recruiter or hiring manager. Lunches with friends, former colleagues, and acquaintances motivated, inspired, and fortified my resolve when disappointments and doubt threatened to win the day.

I took the most common advice from those interactions and started writing more frequently. I’m getting paid to do that on occasion now and being solicited to do more. I joined the board of a non-profit. I consult and provide advice on various projects when requested.

And now, I’m working full-time again. No balloon and fireworks emojis, please. No missives about our mission and my lofty goals as we take over the world. This is not that. It’s a good job and that’s enough.

I missed being part of a team. I enjoy thinking strategically, creating, learning, and handling the very human frictions of returning to the office.

What’s more, we can pay our mortgage without tapping our savings and don’t fear a medical bill that could bankrupt us.

Happy Labor Day! Let’s not forget what we’re really celebrating: the dignity of work and the protection of those who do it.

Brittany Luse, podcast host of NPR's It's Been A Minute

August 11, 2025 / 0 Comments

The Podcast that is Keeping Me Sane Online

“It’s the phones,” Brittany Luse lamented on a recent episode of It’s Been A Minute. She wasn’t wrong. Lately, I’ve been losing hours to the endless loop: Threads, Instagram, Facebook, Bluesky, LinkedIn—rinse, repeat, regret. That conversation with her guests pushed me to act. I hid the worst offenders behind Face ID so I’d have to want them to open. Now, if I switch away mid-scroll, I have to go through the process again. It’s only been a few days, but I’m already feeling a sense of relief from the digital noise, with more time for things I enjoy.

This isn’t the first time Brittany Luse has helped me navigate my life online. I used to be pretty savvy about digital culture, ahead of the curve on the viral thing friends dropped in the group chat. But since quitting TikTok back in January (when it looked like it might vanish from the U.S.), I’m often late. TikTok had become my first-stop newswire for internet nonsense. Leaving it showed me just how addictive it was, and how much I’d relied on it to feel “in the know.”

These days, I’m less interested in being first to a meme or scandal. I want to understand what’s happening, decide whether it matters, and think about it without rotting my brain. It’s Been A Minute has become my best shortcut, at a time when, despite the cultural capital we’ve placed on hot takes, real understanding is more valuable than being the first to know and react.

Take the Coldplay Kiss Cam. The clip gave me the ick, and Luse’s conversation with Kate Wagner mirrored the exact dinner-table debate we’d just had at home. Or when my For You feeds started to flood with references and clips to the business of Christian music, Luse’s timely episode grounded me in the basics of a pop culture space I barely knew.

I look forward to listening to her recent shows on Hasan Piker and Jubilee, as they cover topics I have only a passing interest in, but want thoughtful frameworks for understanding.

I wouldn’t call myself a “podcast person.” If your show is over 30 minutes, rambles without purpose, or isn’t hosted by journalists, I’m out. But for this moment in my digital life—where I want less noise and more clarity—the format works. I still prefer audio over the pivot to video, and Luse’s twenty-minute doses feel like the right size to get informed and move on.

It’s Been A Minute isn’t alone—The Journal explained Labubus, and On the Media poured cold water on AI hype—but Luse has been the most consistent lately at picking stories I wouldn’t bother untangling myself, and helping me think about them in ways that stick.

If you want to give less of your attention to the churn of online life without feeling completely lost, give a minute to my current favorite podcast.

July 19, 2025 / 0 Comments

WNBA All-Star 2025 Merch FOMO

I’m missing WNBA All-Star this year for the first time in forever. One of the things I didn’t expect to miss, but that I now realize has become a massive part of the experience, is the merchandise released in the host city at the team shops and the fan expo. I’m sure many of the items from the collections and brands that were in Indiana this weekend will become available online early next week, but, for those of us watching at home with an itchy spending finger, these are my faves that you can buy online right now.

The Shoe

Side view of the Nike Sabrina 3 basketball shoes featuring a vibrant design with orange, yellow, and black colors.

Nike released colorways for the A’One and DBook, but for my money, it’s the Sabrina 3 “Bring the Heat”. I like that the black is limited to the Swoosh, although I’d consider swapping out the orange shoestrings for a black set. I also appreciate the overall design of her kicks.

The Shirts

The most essential tee of the weekend, if you’ve long bet on women, is the one that the players wore during warmups. Collective Bargaining negotiations have been contentious, but our faves remain union strong and unified.

Black t-shirt featuring an image of a basketball player in action, with the text 'CAN'T BLOCK MY SHINE.' prominently displayed.

I’m digging the launch of “The Floor is Ours” campaign, and A’ja Wilson gets the best motto: You Can’t Block My Shine.

A person wearing a navy t-shirt featuring a graphic illustration of a young individual with short blonde hair and blue eyes, complemented by a white long-sleeve shirt underneath. The shirt prominently displays the phrases 'ON' and '#$%' alongside logos of the WNBA and Playa Society against a light blue backdrop.

The stars of the weekend have been Courtney Williams and Natisha Hiedemann, aka the StudBudz. If you’ve become a new fan of their shenanigans, this Playa Society tee is the one for you, even though it’s not officially an All-Star drop.

Also of interest is the WNBA x Togethxr collaboration, which I have not yet seen worn in Crypto.com Arena. I may have to get this one.

Sorry, She’s an All-Star.

The Hats

I didn’t love the joints from Lids and Fanatics this year, but New Era came through. All of their WNBA collection is great, but these two would’ve made it into my luggage this year if I were there.

The Collectibles

The Fever aren’t my team, so I’m mostly avoiding things that scream Indiana colors or affinity, but this Serigraph is worthy of hanging on any basketball fan’s wall.

A stylized poster for the WNBA All-Star Game featuring a girl in an orange hoodie playing with a basketball, set against a backdrop of a city skyline and a basketball hoop.

What are you copping?

A last.fm labs wall image where the "bricks" are the top musical artists this year for Jason Toney

July 8, 2025 / 0 Comments

2025 in Music (So Far): A Soundtrack for Grief, Joy, and the Battle for Los Angeles

The day before this country celebrated its 249th year of independence, a neighbor was kidnapped from the streets by a federal agency. Four days later, she recuperated in an area hospital while our government played bizarre patriot games in MacArthur Park. Over 100 people are dead from a flood in Texas, while wildfires once again scar California’s geography. It’s 10 p.m., and I’m in front of my laptop trying to figure out what music to play when the dark soul of your nation removes its mask.

2025 told us early on that this year would be a battle for Los Angeles. The Palisades and Altadena fires burned while Top Dawg Entertainment disciples and homegrown hip-hop heroes dominated my headphones with full-throated representations of our spirit. Kendrick Lamar’s “Dodger Blue” is a tour of the city, focusing on its black and brown parts, in particular. He and SZA would sell out stadiums throughout North America later in the year, bringing LA sensibilities to the rest of the country and beyond.

Self-expression, self-confidence, introspection, and, ultimately, togetherness across color lines is the “California Dream” of Ab-Soul’s Soul Burger and Tyler, the Creator’s Chromakopia. We love our home and the people in it. We’ve got our problems, but they are ours to fix, and they aren’t solved by militarized theater and separating families.

In February, a friend died. Through shock and tears, I yearned for the kinetic spirit of Sharon Jones and Hepcat’s Right on Time, specifically “Together Someday.” In my grief, the flirtatious refrain transformed into a spiritual declaration: “I know that we’ll be together someday…” Shannon, Dad, and all those I’ve loved who have passed. I don’t worry myself with the unknowable, like the afterlife or what happens when we die, but the certainty of that “I know” brings me comfort.

Perhaps it’s my Hayward friend’s influence that’s nudged me north musically as this year has gone on. E-40, Souls of Mischief, and, more recently, Ruby Ibarra have inspired and ignited. After the tears, we dance.

By March, Poptimism arrived in the form of Blackpink solo albums from Lisa’s Alter Ego to Jennie’s Ruby. With so much heaviness, I craved escapism. Forgive me if I’m dreaming about the resort life at The White Lotus or the ideal Coachella Weekend. I watch from the comfort of my couch now, but memories of those desert festival days still reside in my bones. Let me have a renaissance with Beyoncé’s Renaissance. I’ll be over here consuming Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet (Deluxe) like the confection it is. GloRilla’s GLORIOUS takes me on imaginary flights to Memphis. I’m revisiting Amy Winehouse’s discography and imagining smoky clubs and late nights in London. I love LA, but I’m longing to be anywhere but here.

Scenes like those in MacArthur Park or outside Glendale Hospital—where local officials are trying to stand up for us against the dim-witted cruelty of this administration—pull me back to reality. I’ve got the blues. The kind of blues that runs through the film and music of Ryan Coogler’s Sinners. The score and soundtrack are easily my albums of the year thus far. Alice Smith’s rendition of “Last Time (I Seen The Sun)” is my song of the year. My heart and head have been living in the same liminal space between hope and despair that defines the composition and the genre.

I don’t like feeling this way, but I’m grateful for the opportunity it gave me to explore a style I’d previously ignored. Ludwig Göransson has long been a composer particularly adept at crafting the right musical textures for films that explore the Black experience. He and his contemporary, Nicholas Britell, have soundtracked the movies and shows that have had the most impact on me over the last decade.

The city seems quieter, but I’m unsure if this is a seasonal pattern or a survival strategy. Bounty hunters and emboldened immigration agents roam our communities in masks with weapons and zip ties, while our beaches still fill with sunbathers, our local teams try to win games, and movie premieres go on. You’re never truly able to get a pulse on this city. LA is too big, too diverse, too vibrant to be any one thing. But you can pick up the vibes. There’s something about the energy when we remember to fight for each other.

That was on display when the city’s hip-hop community came together in the spring to support Altadena resident, Madvillain.

Magic happens here. I’m not thinking about our soundstages—many of which are unused while Hollywood transforms. I mean the magic that hides in the open if you’re only willing to get out of your car and explore. That’s where the happy accidents happen, like discovering Brandee Younger inside an Alice Coltrane exhibit at The Hammer Museum. Magic is in a sorcerer like Terrace Martin, the prolific LA native, who releases music constantly while producing and appearing on many of the best records this city has made over the past twenty years.

Even in the chaos, magic is what we do.

Ice Cube said, “Mix them and cook them in a pot like gumbo,” on N.W.A.’s “Straight Outta Compton” some 35 years ago. LA is like that seafood stew, blending cultures into something surprising, delightful, and uniquely ours. LA is Korean BBQ tacos and elote pizza. LA is donuts in pink boxes served with horchata, boba, or Thai iced tea. That spirit will survive this battle for Los Angeles. It is our greatest strength.

The music I’ve spun so frequently this year isn’t for a nation’s wayward heart. Instead, it’s the soundtrack of resilience and rebellion. I’m spinning records for people who believe, who beat the odds, and who stand up for one another.

The best music of the year represents the spirit of this city I call home, even if the songs and artists didn’t originate here or now.

Albums

Sinners (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) – Sinners Movie
Sinners (Original Motion Picture Score) – Ludwig Göransson
GNX – Kendrick Lamar
Right on Time – Hepcat
Somewhere Different – Brandee Younger

Artists

Kendrick Lamar
Ludwig Göransson
Terrace Martin
Tyler, The Creator
Brandee Younger

Songs

Last Time (I Seen the Sun) – Alice Smith
Love & Struggle – Brandee Younger
Dodger Blue – Kendrick Lamar
Heavy, California – Jungle
I Lied to You – Miles Caton

Ruby Ibarra sits on the NPR Tiny Desk Concert stage with her left fist raised and wearing an "I *heart* Pinays" t-shirt

July 2, 2025 / 0 Comments

Freedom is a Joyful Noise

I’m at The Regent Theater in Downtown LA to see Ruby Ibarra, the 2025 Tiny Desk Contest winner from the Bay Area, perform. Local public media stations, including LAist and KVCR, are in the building, handing out fans and making the case for public media. The Regent is packed with a classically multicultural Los Angeles crowd—this time, with a strong showing from the Filipino community. People came out to see the diminutive Pinay rapper with a big voice and even bigger presence.

Initially scheduled for June 11, the show was postponed when the mayor instituted a curfew in downtown during protests against ICE raids that are still tearing through our communities.

Ruby doesn’t mention the delay until her final song, but when she does, she doesn’t mince words. She’s a first-generation immigrant, and her music centers the Filipino immigrant experience. Before launching into “7,000 Miles,” she reminds us: “No one is illegal on stolen land!”

Everything is political.

Earlier that day, I’d been listening to We Insist 2025!—the new album from Terri Lyne Carrington and Christie Dashiell, a reimagining of Max Roach’s We Insist! One song in particular, “Joyful Noise,” features a spoken word piece that stayed with me:

And when we struggle, when times are tough, we draw strength from our ancestors.
We put away our differences and we come together.
When folks try to take away our freedoms, we don’t just let them.
We fight back!
We don’t become despondent or complacent, and we don’t drown ourselves in escapism or give up on what we know is right.
No!
Instead, we say, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Emmett G. Price III

That’s the spirit that got me out of the house on a Tuesday. That’s what I felt in the room.

Shoulder to shoulder with my neighbors—many of them immigrants or their American-born children—we smiled, sang, and bobbed our heads as one. During Ruby’s homage to Bay Area hip-hop, we even got a little hyphy.

When opener Tish Hyman performed her song “Lucky,” that’s exactly how I felt, too.

There’s not a lot going right in my life—or in the headlines—but after a night of making joyful noise, I can at least envision a better tomorrow.

Freedom is smiling in the face of adversity because you know in the depth of your soul, just like your grandma told you, everything is going to be alright.

Two hands making the shape of a heart with the city of Los Angeles in the background.

June 13, 2025 / 0 Comments

Intentional Listening in a City in Crisis

I feel like, as an artist, the whole point of the platform, other than making music, is to inform. However we do that, right? The music that I create, the art that I create, is mirroring what’s happening in my head and then in my bedroom, in my house, on my kitchen counter, on my street, in my city, in my country. So, it’s really important to me that I’m going to be up there talking about ‘I got a new haircut’; I also have to talk about what I’m seeing. And right now, there are a lot of little people suffering.

—Lalah Hathaway

What I see on my street is beautiful, as Los Angeles often is. Birds chirp. The sun shines. The jacarandas are in bloom, littering the sidewalks with purple petals. Neighbors walk their dogs and babies. I could be deceived into believing that life is normal.

But my city is in crisis.

A senator was handcuffed for asking a question yesterday. The National Guard has been deployed, despite objections from our elected officials. At a basketball game earlier this week, a child in the stands proudly held a sign that read, “Melt ICE!” Friends are in at-risk neighborhoods trying to protect their communities. Others are marching downtown, expressing outrage at the latest policy decisions and public actions.

And I’m sitting here, unsure whether I want to scream, cry, or fight.

At least for now, I’ll take inspiration from Ms. Hathaway—and write.

VANTABLACK, Hathaway’s 2024 full-length, has been on repeat in my headphones. Since watching Nubya Garcia’s NPR Tiny Desk Concert in early April, I’ve been falling down YouTube rabbit holes—first jazz, then soul, then Lalah. Go deep enough, and you land on Hathaway’s own Tiny Desk performance from six years ago. Twelve minutes long. Not nearly enough.

I’d enjoyed VANTABLACK when it first came out, but hadn’t gone deep. Now, with my ears primed for purpose, the album has a firm grip on my attention, and I’m desperate for a deeper connection with the work.

In a different era, these connections—the musicians, collaborators, and producers—would have been revealed through liner notes. You’d read them front to back while listening to the album, then again after the fiftieth spin when a note or riff hit different. Now, those same discoveries happen across platforms: a podcast like One Song, a Wikipedia entry, an Instagram reel, a Discogs post.

For this album, I’m scrolling Instagram, listening to podcasts, and returning to YouTube. Hathaway’s posts—especially her conversations with collaborator Phil Beaudreau—offer insight into how the music came together. But it was her appearance on Robert Glasper’s Black Radio Backstage podcast that truly struck me. That’s where I first heard the quote that opens this piece, and where she reminded me that creating art and bearing witness should be inseparable.

If an artist of Hathaway’s caliber is willing to bare her soul to make music that stirs mine, the least I can do is return the favor in my way.

I can learn the names of the musicians, producers, and engineers who helped bring her vision to life.

I can listen with intention.

I can appreciate the art and the people behind it.

I can write what’s going on in my head and heart.

I can give voice to the very real human, communal, and societal battles happening all around me.

And in whatever way is yours,
you can, too.

Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Art and Artifacts Division, The New York Public Library. "The Savoy" The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 1935 - 1943. — Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash

May 29, 2025 / 1 Comment

What Does Jazz Mean to You?

Originally published at DC Jazz Fest.

In Late March of this year, the Mellon Foundation hosted a virtual symposium titled “American Jazz, American Culture.” Elizabeth Alexander, president of the foundation, moderated the conversation, which included Esperanza Spalding, Terri Lynne Carrington, and Dr. Farrah Jasmine Griffin as panelists. Alexander prefaced that this would be a bit of a “bebop”-style conversation, so she opened it with a curveball.

Jazz means many things: a genre, a style, a sensibility, a culture, a history, a tradition, a way of being. It is a noun. It is a verb. With the word ‘jazz,’ tell me some things that come to mind.

Dr. Griffin was the last to speak on the topic, but the Professor of English’s words were profound:

Excellence. Not in a standardized way, but in which you only compete with yourself. You are achieving something better than you did yesterday. Jazz models a way of being in life: creative, free, and aspiring towards something better than you were yesterday.

That question—‘What does jazz mean?’—has lingered with me.

The Hammer Museum in Los Angeles is currently exhibiting Alice Coltrane: Monument Eternal. While it is more than worth it for the varied ways the installation explores Alice Coltrane’s music, life, and spirituality, I must confess that the unexpected appearance of Brandee Younger in the short film “Isis & Osiris” by Ephraim Asili is my highlight. The first time I visited the exhibit, I walked into a dark viewing room where the short plays on a loop, and I was immediately transfixed. Younger’s voice, grace, and performance as she plays Coltrane’s signature harp conveyed all those things about jazz that Griffin discussed. It was creative, unbridled, aspirational excellence on display. Leaving the room before her harp playing ended felt rude and uncouth, so I lingered until the short restarted. And then I watched it all the way through again.

While the Hammer doesn’t present the full 19 minutes and 21 seconds of the film—which tells the story of Alice Coltrane’s life in the years following the death of her husband, John—the part on display features several quotes from the artist.

This one feels like her answer to Elizabeth Alexander’s question:

It comes from the heart, and it comes from the spirit, and that’s the major character of creative music. It doesn’t come from the brain. It comes from within. Your creation comes from the heart, spirit, and soul; you’re not manufacturing somebody else’s plan, blueprint, or idea that’s not yours, so when you’re creating, that’s the beautiful side of art, you know? It comes from within you.

NEA Jazz Master Terri Lynne Carrington calls jazz expansive rather than monolithic, while also referencing a quote from Duke Ellington:

Put it this way: Jazz is a good barometer of freedom… In its beginnings, the United States of America spawned certain ideals of freedom and independence through which jazz eventually evolved, and the music is so free that many people say it is the only unhampered, unhindered expression of complete freedom yet produced in this country.

Esperanza Spalding calls it a sanctuary.

But what does “jazz” bring up for me? My mind goes to fingers on instruments. Jazz musicians are known for their cool, right? They are reserved, commanding presences that keep time independent of whatever rhythm happens in our chaotic world. And then, their hands come alive, unleashed across wood, brass, ivory, plastic, metal, and string in ways that demand attention as they transform wherever they are into some elevated state. That’s what I felt watching Brandee Younger’s fingers glide across those harp strings. It’s how I remember my father, Kevin Toney, playing the keys.

That freedom of expression erupts from the fingers of all these musicians, driven by the desire to breathe life into something that comes purely from within. That ability to keep time and then manipulate it on a whim, bringing your bandmates and audience along for the ride, is otherworldly. Jazz is a magick. At its best, it gives performers and listeners the space for their spirits to reign supreme, even if only for a song, an album, a concert, or a festival.

That’s jazz.

What does the word bring up for you?

Leslie Jones and Sparky, the Los Angeles Sparks' mascot, are singing courtside at Crypto.com Arena with each other.

May 23, 2025 / 3 Comments

Loving the WNBA in a Season of Change

How can I follow the WNBA without being online? There must be a way because being online with the WNBA makes me want to drown myself. I hate all of you! And the biggest reason I can’t stand online WNBA discourse: it’s hardly ever about basketball.

Bomani Jones

Women’s basketball is on the rise. Many more people are watching at all levels. The players are securing the type of fame and notoriety that they have long deserved. Money is pouring in through exposure and expansion, and the paydays will soon follow.

But alongside the good tidings has come a growing fanbase, some of whom seem disinterested in respecting the WNBA’s culture, vibe, or history. All the things that I have cherished over 11 summers as a season ticket holder with the Los Angeles Sparks and cultivated as a fan of these athletes since before the league began.

I attended SXSW religiously between 2005 and 2011. In ‘05, the tech part of the festival was mostly a sideshow to the main event film + music tracks. Tech was active but quaint. There was little fanfare and a lot of camaraderie. It felt like we were all in on a secret: the internet was cool. By 2010, the event had grown so big that I half-jokingly said there were enough other black folks in attendance that I could afford not to like some of them. By 2011, I felt like an outsider and decided it would be my last.

A week before the 2025 WNBA season started, I worried that this summer might mirror my separation from SXSW.

“This might be the summer where we start losing the magic,” I said in the group chat.

The online discourse was overwhelmingly driving that feeling of dread. After months of quiet, the battle lines reappeared in the culture war over Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese—stans vs. fans, bluster vs. reason, aggression vs. inclusion. The tribalism that is a hallmark of college basketball fandom was rearing its ugly head during the draft and training camp as social media stans caped for their school’s players and jumped in the mentions of any person who dared critique them. Wannabe basketball influencers delivered hot takes in bad faith, seeking attention and engagement.

A play caught my attention while watching the opening weekend matchup of the Chicago Sky at the Indiana Fever with the sound off. I commented about it on Threads: an off-the-cuff observation that in most basketball conversations would be pretty milquetoast. It happened to be about Angel Reese in reaction to a hard foul from Caitlin Clark, though, and it brought to my doorstep the exact kind of interactions I don’t want to be having around this sport I love.

The home opener for the Sparks was the next day, and I was anxious like a kid on the first day of school. I often say that Crypto.com Arena has long felt like church. I go there to find fellowship, community, and to feel the spirit. Well, my spirit, at least. Even when we lose, those three hours are my respite. But this summer, there were changes afoot: our long-time in-arena host is with the expansion Golden State Valkyries; our long-time account reps had been replaced; there had been little communication from the organization about what to expect.

I need not have worried, though. While some things had changed, the good vibes were in plentiful supply. Familiar faces greeted us everywhere, and friends new and old were all around us. Neither the bad actors present in Indy the previous day nor the ever-present online drama followed us into my sacred place.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship with social media recently. The telltale signs that I need a break from the apps are here: increased time spent, decreased satisfaction with the experience, doomscrolling, and fomo. Despite my frustration with some interactions, discussing the W online is still one of the best parts of today’s internet.

Unlike Bomani, I don’t hate this community. He must not run in the same circles I do because I still make meaningful connections with WNBA fans via online social spaces. I find plenty of folks who want to talk basketball. On a different episode of Jones’s podcast, Elle Duncan compared WNBA fans to NBA Twitter—caring and communicating about the whole culture of the sport from the games and its stars to fashion, jokes, memes, themes, and even the playful pettiness of fandom. All that is still here if you know where to look and who to give your time to. The rhythm, hustle, flow, and beauty of the W are also represented by its very online community. It might be dispersed across many networks but hasn’t gone anywhere.

Just because the barbarians have broken through the gate, that doesn’t mean we have to cede our ground. I walked away from SXSW, but I’m not giving up on the WNBA. It’s my home. It’s our house.

There’s too much magic amongst the mess. There’s too much love in the game.

Seasons change, we remain.