Tag: cultural commentary (page 1 of 1)

A bright yellow poster on a city street pole reads ‘Creators Live Here.’ The background is softly out of focus, showing palm trees, buildings, and passing cars in a sunny urban neighborhood.
Photo by George Pagan III on Unsplash
January 9, 2026 / 0 Comments

Joy is the Signal

Dylan Byers said something on an end-of-2025 episode of The Grill Room that stuck with me (paraphrasing):

The best media story of the year is about people who have created something on their own. I don’t know what their long game is as businesses, but they’re definitely having fun. And it’s joyful. I spend a lot of time in my inbox with people who are very upset at their media organizations. It’s nice to look out and see a younger generation genuinely enjoying themselves.

It crystallized something I’d already been feeling.

I noticed it at Bloomberg ScreenTime in 2024, right after I was laid off from Paramount: the vibes in legacy media were bleak, while the energy around podcasters, independent journalists, and digital studio mini-moguls was fully lit. Those in the Creator Economy were the ones with the glint in their eye, big dreams of making it, and often with impeccable skin.

No one knows the long-term financial viability of going out on your own—or the sustainability of always operating as an individual or a small team—but the joy is unmistakable. The people who leapt look alive.

I remember that feeling from the halcyon days of blogging, when staying up late to post on my little website—or editing LAist back when it was just a city blog—felt more energizing than my very cool TV job. One of the mindfucks of getting older is failing to recognize when those shifts are happening again. Or worse, greeting them with skepticism instead of curiosity.

That might explain why my initial reaction to Evan Shapiro’s rollout of his Attention Economy chart last fall was dismissive. It felt undercooked. Unlike his meticulous maps of legacy media, this one didn’t really show how creator businesses make money. Lumping creators, streamers, influencers, and brands together without distinction doesn’t help those of us trying to navigate what this ecosystem actually is.

Shapiro’s follow-up conversation with his co-host Marion Ranchet was more satisfying. They acknowledged the chart’s limitations and explained why mapping the ecosystem, rather than breaking down the financials, was necessary. Creators aren’t lone wolves. They’re small media companies that rely on platforms, agencies, white-label studios, and contractors to provide their teams.

For legacy media professionals contemplating the jump, that matters. The most abundant opportunities may not be in front of the camera or mic, or even directly with a creator doing those things, but in the infrastructure—joining partner companies or building businesses that serve new creatives in aggregate.

That entrepreneurial leap is the hardest part for those of us raised in corporate systems, where being excellent at a narrow role was enough. Clock in, clock out, collect a paycheck. Creators don’t work that way. They live to work—partly because the competition for attention is ruthless, and also because they love it. They expect collaborators to bring that same energy.

I include myself among those who need to get over themselves—and over our judgments about what “counts” as media in 2026. We’re not going back. I may never fully embrace the pejorative use of “plot-based media,” but I also have to admit: my wife is just as likely to find me watching a reactor video on YouTube as she would find me deeply engaged in a prestige drama on HBO.

What earns my attention is joy. Enthusiasm is infectious. I listen and watch because I can feel that the people making this stuff want to be there.

I still worry about the creator business model—financially and operationally—when you’re the sole proprietor, star, and producer of your own mini-media empire. Not everyone becomes a Joe Rogan, Joe Budden, MrBeast, or Ms. Rachel. But a “Creator Middle Class” is emerging. One that can control its business, build direct relationships with its audience, and sustain a career without celebrity status.

For those of us who love plot-based media and accept how much we’ve grown to enjoy the attention-based kind, the real work is figuring out where we fit in and having the humility to recognize that joy, not legacy, may be the clearest signal of where the future already lies between these two worlds.

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.