Walking into Angel’s Share Wines and Liquors, the man at the counter probably expected that my two classmates and I were paying customers. I approached the cashier and explained that we were Georgetown students, and, weirdly, we had traveled across DC to his establishment for a class project. I told him that in the 1980s, his shop had been a nightclub, and we were exploring its transformation and the history behind it. He seemed more confused than intrigued. Angel’s Share Wines and Liquors is a pretty standard liquor store, with bottles lining the walls and shelves, refrigerators at the back wall, and tobacco products on the wall behind the counter. The floors are a dark red, and the shelves are made of a light-colored wood. From the ceiling hang chandeliers of sorts with light bulbs attached to metal poles that branch off in all directions from the center. Immediately on the right upon walking in is a classy cigar container, with a sign reading “Premium Cigars.” On the far side of the store, where the fridges are, to the right there is a concrete staircase going into the basement, where they presumably store inventory. The left side of the staircase has a conveyor belt for transporting the inventory up into the main floor, and there are disorganized stacks of both full and empty cases of various liquors and spirits at the bottom. I was curious to go downstairs and look around, but I had to draw the line somewhere. I imagine that in the era of John’s Place, they (the owners and employees of the club), too, made use of the basement for alcohol storage, and perhaps any other inventory they would keep. Maybe they had glasses, straws, and other items that a club requires but a liquor store does not, or maybe they had a few chairs and employees took their breaks there. Additionally, the liquor store is a functioning Western Union location, which may offer more insight into the demographics the store serves as many modern users of in-person Western Union locations are immigrants and, in some cases, refugees. Obviously, there was not much to recognize or extrapolate from what I found on the inside of the store; no real signs of a 1980s nightclub remained. On the way out, I felt like I should buy something so as not to be rude. After all, I had snooped around for a few minutes and we were the only people in the store. Of course, I’m 18 years old and not of age to buy liquor, so, to the cashier’s amusement, I bought a Red Bull, and we continued on our way.
Exterior Description
In S Street Rising, there is a nightclub on S Street, in the Shaw neighborhood of DC, called John’s Place, outside of which the narrator recalls crack exchanges. Today, the building on the corner of 7th and S is Angel’s Share Wines & Liquors, and no discernible trace of a club remains. It is not a large building; it is one story with a relatively narrow entrance, from which it extends further back into 7th street to create a rectangular shape. On the front of the building is the large black sign with “Angel’s Share Wines & Liquors” in curved, white block letters surrounding the store’s logo, a barrel with the wings and halo of an angel. The building’s exterior is made up of dark reddish-brown brick, and besides the glass door entrance and large windows revealing the shelves of bottles inside, the walls are nearly covered in vibrant graffiti art. On the 7th street side wall, there is a large mural-like image of a black male singer, mic in hand, and to his left is a string of brilliant streaks of colored lines and arrows, woven in with cheerful images of music speakers and pencils. The colorful street art exudes an uplifting mood surrounding themes of creativity and innovation in the artistic space. Indeed, the building does not necessarily appear to be reminiscent of a 1980s nightclub or a drug epidemic, but subtle elements of the location seem to illustrate certain aspects of its historical context that may have lingered. The area appears to be a predominantly black, lower to middle class neighborhood, with rowhouses lining 7th street and other commercial establishments on S. It does not appear to be a particularly “bad” or dangerous area per se, but it surely does not cater to the wealthier demographics that inhabit more supposedly high-end areas of DC, like Georgetown (where the M Street is lined with designer brand retail stores). There are a few multiple-story office buildings and other glass-happy structures alike that suggest new construction or renovation in recent years, yet the humble liquor store on the corner of 7th and S, while transformed into a new establishment, still seems to harbor the spirit and history of another era.
Prom/King
Just another day in the ghetto
Can’t get up today with their schedule
I just hope I make it ’til tomorrow
I just hope I make it ’til tomorrow
I just hope I make it ’til tomorrow
I just hope I make it ’til tomorrow
Saba is my favorite rapper, hailing from the west side of Chicago, the “part of the city that they don’t be talkin’ about.” Last year, he released his second studio album, called Care For Me, following the brutal murder of his cousin, best friend, and Pivot Gang (their rap collective) co-founder Walter, who was also known by the rap monikers John Walt and DinnerWithJohn. Care For Me is a dark, beautifully introspective and cohesive project that explores tragedy and the human experience through the lens of Saba’s encounter with tragedy, depression, and the pitfalls of modern human existence. I could discuss this album for quite awhile, and it will surely reappear on this page, but for now I focus on the above excerpt from the penultimate track of Care For Me. Prom / King is the culmination of the whirlwind of emotions in Care For Me, a two part narrative track sharing stories about Walter. At the end of the song, the beat regresses into uncontrollable drums, representative of the approach of disaster. Finally Saba’s intense, increasingly chaotic storytelling ends with a call from Walter’s mother, asking if he’s seen her son. “We got in the car but we didn’t know where to drive to, f**k it wherever you are my n***a we’ll come and find you.” By this point, Walter is dead. The drums fade, and the track finishes with the ominous, eerily fitting sample from Walter before his death: “I just hope I make it ’til tomorrow” reverberates and, too, fades with Walter’s spirit. I have attentively listened to the seven and a half minute track countless times, and every single listen has left me with the chills. Few pieces of music have touched me the way this song, particular the end of it, has. When I think about why it affects me so deeply, it is evident that my knowledge and understanding of Saba’s background and relationship with John Walt and my examination of the song’s lyrics have allowed me to truly empathize with the Saba. Knowing the result of the narrative and knowing that the outro came from John Walt itself is what makes it so chilling. Had I never encountered Saba before, with close listening I surely would have appreciated the song and been personally affected by it. However, with context, the tragedy of the song’s ending is brought to life.
Studio
One night in Lau, during one of my many trademark all-nighters, at about 5 AM I was wandering the first floor. My brain had stopped functioning, and I needed a break. I strolled into the section with dozens of computer monitors and heard a faint sound of music coming from a corner room. I followed the sound to the recording room (that I didn’t know existed), and for a few moments I stood outside, nodding my head to the brilliantly dynamic hip-hop track being engineered inside. I decided to knock on the door to commend the two artists on the shockingly amazing track they were cooking up, and they proceeded to show me various other projects they were working on and let me in on their creative process. Since then, I have joined one of those two, David Peake, a Georgetown graduate of 2017, in the Lau 1 recording rooms on a multitude of occasions. In fact, it’s 6:30 AM and I’m currently writing this from the library studio. I have developed a passion, arguably an obsession, with hip-hop music over the last few years, and with that I have become infatuated with every step of rappers’ creative process, their backgrounds, and their networks. How these artists interact and represent their regions make up an intricate puzzle that I am constantly trying to piece together. I wish I had the inherent talent to contribute to the genre myself, but, alas, I don’t. There’s nothing more exciting and engrossing then experiencing first-hand the long hours and meticulous engineering that go into the making of the dynamic, multifaceted rap music that I so cherish. The visuals of the many sonic layers in GarageBand or Logic Pro that make up the cohesive unit of sound are just as much pieces to the puzzle of the final product. Watching the many stages of the music-making process brings new depth to my own listening experience and to my appreciation for the artistic process in hip-hop. I’m going to have to spend plenty more all-nighters here in my next few years here.
Game of Thrones
Since the start of Season 8 of Game of Thrones, I have watched every episode in the common room of the 6th floor of Harbin Hall, a freshman floor that happens to have a concentration of some of my close friends. They have a great setup, with a flat screen TV and good speakers, and every Sunday night, sure enough, some variation of the same group of people knows to meet on Harbin 6 for Thrones. The episode doesn’t change no matter where I watch it; the content is the same. What draws me so adamantly and excitedly to this particular watch party every week is not, in fact, the TV or the speakers, but rather the group of people I will find there. With such a long buildup to this final season and the cult following that the show has developed, Game of Thrones has become a cultural phenomenon, each week a new event. As my Harbin 6 watching gang and I enjoy, laugh, suffer through the epic, unpredictable whirlwind of emotions that is Season 8 of Thrones, we do so together. We share theories and and predictions before and after episodes, and we see whether or not they come to fruition. Watching a TV show with a group shouldn’t really make a difference, for what matters is what’s on the screen. But this show really is an experience. We are deeply invested in the characters and the plot, and we are also deeply invested in our collective appreciation of the show’s grand finale as we experience it together. It’s very comforting.
John Carroll Statue
When you enter through the front gates of Georgetown’s campus, one of the first things you see is the grand statue of John Carroll, the founder of Georgetown University. It stands, or I should say sits, as a symbol of the school’s rich history and the Jesuit values it embodies. If you search “John Carroll” in your web browser, the first result from Google Maps is the “John Carroll Statue, historical landmark,” and the picture to go with it: a student sitting on Mr. Carroll’s lap, kissing him on the cheek. This is exactly what the statue means to Georgetown students. It is the site of crazy, hilarious photos mounting our glorious founder after a long night out. When I walk through the front gates and see the statue, I don’t experience a humble moment of appreciation for our founder and everything the statue symbolizes; I just think back to the fun memories of climbing up onto his lap or shoulders and smiling for a sweet picture. Does this mean that us crazy college kids are desecrating a respected historical monument with our silly shenanigans? GUPD might say so, but I wouldn’t. I think in a way, our late night photos atop the landmark perfectly represent what the statue exemplifies. John Carroll founded Georgetown University over 200 years ago so that bright students like us could converge from our diverse backgrounds, bringing diverse perspectives, to collectively learn and grow. The special relationships that students foster in this environment absolutely embody the community, togetherness, and mutual understanding of one another that Georgetown seeks to create. Our late night photos with John Carroll beautifully illustrate the culmination of his creation, a place where we young people may come together, learn from each other, and love each other.
