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Like the musical equivalent of a Coelacanth, Sacramento’s RAD is a living, breathing, biting example of an era gone by. They carry on the fury, brevity, and humor of the mid-‘80s when punk and thrash were crossing over, but with totally modern sensibilities.  A couple of months ago, I finally got to see them play L.A. (along with my friend and ace photographer Ben Clark, whose pictures from a Pyrate Punx house show are included in this blog) and followed up with some questions that follow.

RAD is Lory (vocals), Charles (guitar), Anthony (bass), and Craig (drums). I asked them a lot about their debut 7” but there’s already a cassette tape demo ready to drop as well. They play often–sometimes in basement shows with local bands as well as with old-school thrashers–so check them out when you can. But as the song goes, definitely cover your tits in the pit.

MW: “Rad” is a word that all of you use pretty often. Is it difficult to not use it when talking about your own shows, songs, or sound?

Anthony: Yes, it’s difficult because it’s so true. We are rad. I think we remind the audience of that fact at least twice every time we play. It’s quite an effective marketing tool actually. People say, “Whoa, you guys are rad!” all the time after they see us play, and pretty soon everyone believes it just out of sheer repetition. Because it’s also true, of course. We are RAD.

Charles: We originally wanted a name like “NARC” or “Bad Dudes” but settled on RAD.

Lory: Being a native Californian, I tend to say “rad” a lot. We do get to play a lot of rad shows. I think all of our songs are pretty rad. The sound we are going for… rad. The dudes that I get to play this rad music with… They’re all right, I guess.

Craig: Yeah, unfortunately the word does come up a lot. All of us spent some amount of our childhood in the ’80s so it’s just in the vocabulary.

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Maya Nakanishi was a 21-year-old dreaming of a tennis career when a five-ton steel girder fell on her at work severing her right leg below the knee. After six months of hospitalization, a resolute Nakanishi began training with a prosthetic limb and showed remarkable progress right away, qualifying for a berth on the Japanese team at the 2008 Beijing Paralympic Games. Although she barely missed medalling at the ’08 Paralympics, Nakanishi vowed to transform herself into one of the best prosthetic-wearing sprinters in the world, and a year later was accepted into a program that enabled her to train under gold medal triple jumper Al Joyner at a U.S. Olympic Training Center in California. Nakanishi is currently training in preparation for the 2012 London Paralympic Games to be held August 29 till Sept. 9, the biggest paralympic event ever with 4200 athletes from 160 countries competing in 20 events. But world-class “amateur athletics” is a misnomer, and para-athletes often pay their own expenses to compete unlike they able-bodied counterparts. Nakanishi, now 26, found herself scrimping to make her athletic dreams come true. Aside from everyday living expenses, Maya had to pay to use training facilities and for her trainer.  Paralympic regulations required that she have at least two prosthetic limbs for the competition. And at about 1.2 million yen ($14,500) a piece, they cost a pretty penny. During the worst times, Nakanishi found herself living in her car. But Maya lost a limb not her resolve. Earlier this year, she decided to publish a calendar featuring photographs of her posing semi-nude wearing nothing but her rose-pink prosthesis, raising quite a few eyebrows across prudish Japan. Some people went as far to criticize Maya for “humiliating disabled people” by baring her disability. “A prosthetic limb is something beautiful, not something you should be embarrassed at being seen with,” said Nakanishi, whose prosthetic legs are made of red fabric and fabric with a rose print. She also said that publishing a semi-nude calendar is also meant to bring more attention to the financial adversity fellow Paralympic athletes are facing. “No matter how much disdain and bashing I will receive for the calendar, I want to pave the way for younger athletes to shine,” she said. A limited 2,000 copies at 1200 yen (US$15) apiece are available. Visit Nakanishi’s website at ameblo.jp/n-maya/ for details. [Yahoo! Sports ~ Maya Nakanishi] [Spiegel Online ~ Maya Nakanishi: Ein Kalender als Paralympics-Ticket] [The Asahi Shimbun ~ Athlete poses seminude to fund Paralympic dream]  
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Daeung Sunim is a Korean Buddhist monk who is currently biking across the Americas, starting in Canada. He’s there now, traveling from coast to coast, headed down into the US (coast to coast) and then down into South America. Not a lot out there in English of his own words as to why he’s making the journey, but he’s doing it, and he’s brave. According to the articles on some Buddhist websites, he’s doing it to “test his spirit”.  Always a worthwhile endeavor! He has a blog, but it’s in Korean. Check it out for his own photos and thoughts about the trip… in Korean. He speaks very little English and no Spanish. In true monk style, he’s letting fate (and a GPS device) decide how it will all come to pass. A friend he made in Canada is helping him find lodging and food along the way, but it’s one guy reaching out to strangers. He’s set up a Facebook page for Sunim, so you can follow his journey and help it  along if you’re able. Looks like he needs extra help in South America. Pass the story along to your bike/Buddhist/Korean/traveler/good karma kind of friends and maybe you can become part of it!
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I found out this morning that my grandfather, Pak Zai Sup passed away. I was able to say goodbye to him in April, when he was hospitalized for a very serious respiratory infection, and while his next move was to a hospice care facility, the idea of him being gone now is still difficult to digest. I was born in Korea, and with a working mom, he and my grandmother helped to raise me. I have a million memories of life with them, and since they’re the earliest memories I have,  they’re the best. Grandpa was a strict and disciplined scholar, but with me he was a warm, loving grandfather. It was the housemaid who would scold me for playing with his calligraphy brushes in his office, and spilling the ink, never my grandfather. He was very much in love with my grandmother, and I lived in that love with them. Leaving them was hard, and as I grew up in the US, despite the annual visits, I spoke less and less Korean (eventually none) and they felt farther and farther away. After my grandmother passed away, my parents tried to convince my grandfather to come live with us in the US. We moved into a huge house so we could have him there with us, but he never came. Leaving Korea wasn’t right for him then. He had his memories of grandma, his colleagues, friends, his tennis championships, his walks in the mountains, and his many students who still came to him for counsel. Grandpa was a lifelong academic. He was the first in his family to go to University, and during the turbulent times of the Japanese occupation of Korea he began his studies of politics, government and International Law. He went on to become the Dean of the Law School at Korea University. He was a visiting scholar at Harvard and the University of Hawaii, and became an important voice in Korea after the war. His students went on to become Ambassadors, politicians, and University presidents and founders. He spoke eight languages, constantly studied long after retirement, and supported (emotionally and financially) his entire family. I am in constant awe of his legacy. At the hospital in April, all of grandpa’s doctors and nurses bowed deeply and reverently to him. They called him “professor”. Family members that my mom hadn’t spoken to in decades came to visit and spend time with us in his room. My mom had to leave a day before I did, so I had one day alone with him and his excellent hospice nurse. Talking was difficult for him, so I brought a white board for us to write on. Grandpa is now buried on our ancestral cemetery on a beautiful mountainside deep in the country. He’s there beside my grandmother and his father. I’ll visit him soon, and I’ll share my memories of an inspiring, generous, loving man with my Mongolian family and his great-grandchildren to be. I love you, Grandpa.
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