California summer, the windows rolled down, the back of my thighs sticking to the car seat as my friend’s car rattles over potholes. The AC is broken. It could be any year; I could be 10 or 15 or 28. The radio is on; the beat is thick and sweet. Oh, let me, let me tell you why I feel like that…
We hear Bradley Nowell singing new lyrics for the first time in almost three decades, recorded before his death in 1996. His voice is joined by SoCal native band Stick Figure and Bradley’s son, Jakob Nowell, the new frontman of Sublime—though Jakob isn’t so comfortable with that title.
“My dad, Bradley, was Sublime’s only frontman,” Jakob tells me. I’m meeting him over Zoom, and the screen spins dizzily as he takes it somewhere outside—a backyard, maybe. The world is green and warm around him. “I’m only here to fulfill a role and then try to see where we can bring that to new heights, into new areas,” he says. “You know, I can’t just try to be something that I’m not.”
Alright, not the frontman of Sublime. Who, then, is Jakob Nowell? These days, he pursues his personal music with his band Jakobs Castle. The group released their debut album, Enter: The Castle, on April 12 with the tagline “beach meets internet.”
Jakob’s roots are in San Diego. Raised by his mother, Troy Dendekker, and stepfather after Bradley’s death by overdose when Jakob was only 11 months old, Jakob grew up as “one of those types who didn’t fit into anything,” he says. “I didn’t feel like I spoke the same language or that I was made of the same stuff as all of these people around me.” Eventually, a common language materialized: drugs.
Courtesy of YDG Music
Jakob speaks about those difficult experiences openly. “The net of drug addiction is very, very wide,” he says. Jakob cast that net, and was caught in it, as a teenager looking for community. A decade later, he found a stronger community in his recovery—and in the celebration of alternative culture that, to him, is synonymous with Sublime and with Southern California at large.
“I think that’s our export; that’s our chief brand. F**k Hollywood, f**k all of the mainstream, hyper-polished taking all of these subgenres and making them marketable and palatable,” Jakob says. “I think there’s still such a huge, wide swath of people here in SoCal that are hungry for and looking for a chance to connect with something authentic. It doesn’t have to be anything bigger or more than that. Because if you’re born here, you know Sublime.”
To him, Sublime is a community experience first and foremost. He considers himself a “conduit” for his “uncles,” the bassist Eric Wilson and drummer Bud Gaugh, so that they can continue to play and perform. His goal as a musician, he says, is to “clear-headedly try to bring as many people as I can together to have a good time.”
Courtesy of iHeart Media
I am swept up in the narrative and misinterpret this as selflessness or a self-erasure— the prodigal son serving as a custodian of his father’s legacy, carefully maintaining the tapestry of Sublime but not daring to continue to weave it. The band trapped in amber, existing both as a living thing in the ’90s and as a museum to itself. Poetic, no? Jakob doesn’t let me get away with it.
“You cannot recreate a moment,” he says. Jakob is walking the tightrope between the old and the new. An entirely new record is out of the question. But the spirit of Sublime—and the unique collaborative nature that made the band’s music so vibrant and compelling—can live on.
“Sublime always had this vibe like these guys are just messing around and hanging out inside of a room somewhere,” he continues. The magic ingredient is “the love and passion [for] their favorite music.”
Currently, Jakob is playing with snippets of unreleased ideas from the Sublime catalog, sometimes chopping up old bootlegs and piecing them into songs. He calls it an “experimental phase” because it may never see the light of day.
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be talking about this,” he says. He’s smiling, but there is no trace of cheekiness in his face; he is not giving me a scoop, just telling it how it is. More than merely a creative exercise, revisiting old Sublime music is a deeply personal, complicated endeavor. The voice on the recording is that of a father he never got to know.
Courtesy of Jakob Nowell
“It was very emotionally challenging and complicated and weird,” Jakob says. “You want connect with it, but there’s also just so much guilt that gets sort of put upon you that you can’t help but feel and sympathize with. A lot of that comes from people and also from your own sense of imposter syndrome.”
But that doesn’t mean that it is devoid of joy. “My dad loved making music,” he says. “I love making music. If I could just sit in that moment and live there and just say, ‘This is not for me. This is for everyone around me’—then it becomes a lot more fun.”
I recalibrate, try again: Jakob is taking up somebody else’s place in somebody else’s band playing somebody else’s music. But to him, it’s very personal. When Sublime returned to the stage, Jakob was 28 years old, the same age at which his father died after a show at the Phoenix Theater in Petaluma.
In late June, Jakob celebrated his 29th birthday. “No one wishes to be overshadowed,” Jakob says when I ask how it feels to blow out one more candle than his father ever would. “But at the same time, you can’t.” That even-keeled smile again: It is what it is. “You can’t out-moment something like Sublime.”
Jakob celebrated the big day with San Diego’s musicians, at the harbor event aptly named Reggae At Sea. I ask for listening recommendations, and Jakob launches into the night’s setlist: DJ Mikey Beats keeps Jakob “plugged in” to the local scene, and SHUS (SomeHow UnSeen) are an up-and-coming, “really amazing” young band. He shouts out Tunnel Vision (“our first bands came up together, and they’re still just killing it”), Seedless, and, of course, Jakobs Castle.
Getting to be in two bands, Sublime and Jakobs Castle, is exciting. “[It’s] a sort of merging together all of these multiple generations as generational trauma, but also a generational solution,” Jakob says. “We come together at musical events and we revel and we celebrate and we move forward. I think that’s the most beautiful process of my entire life.”
On the screen, the wind picks up for a moment. In my notes, I write down “a wide net.”
I’ve got only one more question: What does he like to do in San Diego, anyway?
The answer is instantaneous. “Oh, easy! My first stop, as soon as I drive into town, I always hit up Mr. Frostie. I used to walk down there after school. I always get a chocolate shake with Oreo pieces and rainbow sprinkles mixed into it. And if I’m feeling freaky, I’ll get a big soft-serve ice cream cone. I’ve been going to Mr. Frostie since I was a little kid. It’s the best soft serve in the world,” he says. “And I’ll go to Rigoberto’s. There’s one right there near Mr. Frostie on Garnet. I’ll drive up and eat it all at Kate Sessions Park and look out of the whole city and just think, God damn, this is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I’m so happy San Diego still has that vibe.”
It always will, I tell him, and Jakob grins, throwing his arms out wide. “Good morning, San Diego!”
Inna is a California native with a passion for local art, literature, and a really good salad. Her favorite pastime is visiting furniture exhibits at museums and wishing that she could sit in the chairs (even once!).
How Scrojo Became One of Rock’s Most Prolific Poster Artists
The San Diego designer has created more than 3,000 concert posters over nearly 40 years for artists including the Rolling Stones and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
When he was in high school, he and his friends were trying to come up with the perfect name for their punk band that would encapsulate all their personas. Nicaragua. The Freds.
One of his friends said he was going to go by Jimmy Stacks and called it “the perfect rock and roll name.” Their names changed so much that Haskett erupted: “Fine, I’m f—ing Scrotum Joe, the true defender of the Open West.”
Their response: Wow, that’s a great name.
As a teenager, he drew chalkboards for Del Mar’s Pannikin coffee shop and would design T-shirts for surf/skate brand Life’s a Beach. He signed the shirts with his moniker, but even in punk rebellion, who wants a shirt with the words Scrotum Joe on it? “They just cut out the ‘t-u-m,’ and the next thing you know, a client referred to me as that, and it stuck,” he says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Scrojo could have been part of a band as iconic as The Misfits—had he been able to learn the famously cumbersome bassline to The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie.” Becoming one of the most renowned concert poster designers—someone who quite literally designed the cover of Art of Modern Rock: The Poster Explosion—is a pretty good Plan B.
“To my knowledge, he’s done more rock posters than anybody else alive,” says Dennis King, whose D. King Gallery in Berkeley, California, serves as one of the largest private rock poster collections in the world. “He’s the hardest-working guy in the poster business.”
King not only co-authored the sequel to music historian Paul Grushkin’s The Art of Rock, but he also handles distribution and sales for all of Scrojo’s work. That’s more than 3,000 different posters over nearly 40 years. (That’s over one poster each week. For four decades straight.)
For anything from boxing matches to rodeos, posters have long been used as promotional items. Toulouse-Lautrec’s famous lithographs advertised Moulin Rouge in the late 1800s. Around the same time, Hatch Show Print in Nashville was making handbills for the Grand Ole Opry.
“I propose this: Cave paintings are the first poster art,” Scrojo says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Rock and roll posters took off in the 1960s, when the hippie counterculture era replaced conformity and suburbia. Artists like Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead used their vibrant, psychedelic prints as a form of rebellion from the mainstream. Posters were promotional, commemorative, collectible, and especially expressive.
If the name Scrojo is any indication, he doesn’t shy away from imagery that toes the line of being too provocative. He focused more on what inspired him instead of trying to be offensive for the sake of getting attention.
“Didn’t want to show it to my grandmother, but my parents were fine with it,” Scrojo says with a laugh.
“We’ve had to ask him to put a Band-Aid over a nipple every now and then,” says Chris Goldsmith, president of Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, where Scrojo started out and hundreds of his posters currently line the walls.
Scrojo spent six weeks at Otis College of Art and Design for a summer semester before drugs, alcohol, and a self-described lack of discipline prevented him from enrolling full time. Still, he taught himself concepts like text hierarchy and later found his niche at the Belly Up and in the surfing and skating world, working with brands like Quiksilver, Rip Curl, Scorpion Bay, and DGK.
His first concert poster was for North County band Borracho y Loco, of which Goldsmith was bass guitarist. Scrojo drew an abstract version of the Belly Up’s iconic shark with colorful calypso and tiki themes.
Early on, he would craft using a pencil, pen, non-reproduction blue pencil, X-Acto knife, rubber knife, and proportion scale to create each poster, and the finished product could take a week or even longer.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“I recommend every artist coming up to do that for like six weeks,” Scrojo says. “It forces you to think about every design decision as you’re going along.”
He has since mastered vector imagery through Adobe Illustrator to the point where, depending on the level of detail needed, he could finish two projects in a day. Still, he fills sketchbook after sketchbook to blueprint.
“I liked his line in particular, and he knows how to draw, which a lot of people don’t really know how to do these days,” King says.
Scrojo would research what each musician’s merchandise looks like to get a feel for each artist’s tone and voice. Once he has his central image in mind, he focuses on what and where to place the text.
He doesn’t have one specific style, ranging his talents from art deco to psychedelic and everything in between (and outside the lines). Want a pop surrealist comic book cartoon devil with splattered paint textures, halftone dot patterns, and pure chaos? Red Hot Chili Peppers, February 1986. Want a minimalist graphic portrait with bold strokes and graffiti text? P!nk, October 2023. Want a carnival sideshow style piece with a tasteful caricature of Jeff Bridges? The Big Lebowski, August 2011.
Scrojo calls himself a jack of all trades because he can create posters for all music genres. King calls him a chameleon for his ability to adapt his voice to new eras.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“The variety of his skillset makes it possible for us to put 50 of his posters on a wall next to each other and have it look compelling, not just a bunch of the same thing over and over,” Goldsmith says.
Some of Scrojo’s favorite posters are when he feels a personal connection to the artist or the album. He has a vivid memory as a child of being trapped in a closet filled with marijuana leaves while playing hide and seek and staring at Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” LP. “For whatever reason, as a kid, that sparked a desire to do graphic design,” Scrojo says.
Fast forward to February 2012, Cliff is performing at Belly Up. Scrojo decided to modify Cliff’s original album cover from rainbow gradient fills to classic reggae psychedelia while preserving Cliff’s striped pants and bold hat. Cliff’s manager called him and said they wanted to use it for the rest of their tour.
“We always get artists requesting that he does their posters,” Goldsmith says. “A lot of artists don’t want venues to go all rogue because they want to control how they’re being presented. With him, they’re like, ‘Let him go nuts.’”
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to perform on one of San Diego’s most iconic stages, here’s your shot. The Old Globe is looking for local singers, songwriters, and musicians to take the spotlight before performances of its upcoming musical Begin Again—and the gig comes with a chance to perform on the theater’s main stage and at a new community music event, Begin Again: San Diego Sessions.
Inspired by the opening scene of Begin Again, which makes its pre-Broadway premiere at The Old Globe this fall, the open mic–style performances celebrate local talent while giving audiences a taste of San Diego’s music scene before the curtain rises.
Solo artists and duets ages 18 and older can submit video entries here through Friday, July 10. Selected performers will be notified by July 14.
The public is also invited to Begin Again: San Diego Sessions, a free event on Monday, July 20, at 7 p.m. in the Globe’s Copley Plaza. Attendees can catch performances from top contest participants while enjoying discounted drinks from the theater’s pub.
“Begin Again is a story about hope and someone finding their light,” says Adena Varner, Director of Arts Engagement at The Old Globe. “The opening moment, which is what we’re excited about with this contest, is about an artist who’s unknown taking a chance at an open mic night—and then their life changes.”
“What I love about San Diego is it’s a space where hopes and dreams seem to actually be able to come true, and people get to find themselves, find their light and their voice, so I think the spirit of the show really resonates with who we are as San Diegans,” she says.
For director Lorin Latarro, the pre-show performances are a chance to weave San Diego into the production. While the musical has been developed in New York with New York–based musicians and actors, these performances create a direct connection between the show and the city’s local music community.
“One of the things Lorin is passionate about is wanting these performances to feel like San Diego, so we want them to be diverse,” Varner says. “We want these moments to look like us and all that that means… We have submissions from artists based in Tijuana, North County, and East County, so it’s geographically diverse, ethnically diverse, and we’re looking at age diversity as well.”
The Old Globe has hosted community engagement opportunities tied to past productions—including an art contest and walk-on performances—but nothing quite like this.
“We’ve also never had an open mic night on the plaza, so we’re excited, and we really want the music community to know that they’ve got a place at The Old Globe, too,” Varner says. “We’re getting in the practice of making sure our community feels connected to our shows and have an opportunity to contribute in a way that’s meaningful and impactful for them.”
Begin Again is based on the 2013 film starring Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo, with a book by Jenna Clark Embrey and Molly Beach Murphy and music and lyrics by Pat Monahan of Train. Performances run September 6 through October 11, with opening night on September 17.
At the time of publication, The Old Globe had received nearly 100 video submissions.
Kai Oliver-Kurtin is a San Diego-based writer who covers travel, dining, events, and culture. Her writing has been published in USA Today, Condé Nast Traveler, Fodor's Travel, Marie Claire, and HuffPost, among others.
Growing up in Carlsbad, I never quite understood why people vacationed there. What, so you want to check out the field where I have soccer practice? Pay my orthodontist a visit? Carlsbad just felt like a town by the beach, no better or worse than any other in the country. It took going to college out of state for me to actually understand just how rare a place like Carlsbad is.
Thanksgiving break my freshman year, my first time coming home after three months in the Midwest, my shoulders dropped. I rolled down the windows and drove to lifeguard tower 37—the hangout magnet for Carlsbad’s youths (and, in the summer, tourists)—and the smells of the ocean woke me right up like smelling salts do. I finally got it.
Carlsbad isn’t just a stopover town on your way to something better. It is the destination. Travel + Leisure named Carlsbad one of the top 50 places around the world to travel in 2026. From the whole globe, the travel magazine picked my home. Sure, we’ve got the Flower Fields and Legoland—but now it’s the smaller ships and indier dreams that are giving it street-level character.
It’s not just Carlsbad, either. People have talked about the “North County bubble” for decades—a force field that prevents its residents from traveling south of the 56. It’s often used derogatorily, and it’s a fairly accurate burn.
For decades, living up in North County meant giving up on culture, or at least culture within close proximity. But now, the main expansion of San Diego culture is happening up north. Central San Diego restaurants have started taking notice and are expanding into the area—spurred no doubt by Oceanside’s food boom and the Jeune et Jolie–Campfire–Wildland–Lilo constellation in Carlsbad. City Heights burger joint Key & Cleaver opened a new spot in Oceanside; the owners of Parc Bistro-Brasserie in Bankers Hill opened Parc Lounge in Rancho Santa Fe. Possibly the strongest market indicator is that Sam Fox—one of the most successful restaurateurs west of the Rockies—has started focusing on North County for his concepts. In 2025, he opened both The Henry in Carlsbad and Culinary Dropout in Del Mar.
For the ultimate insider guide, we found a handful of inspiring people who live and create and truly know six North County neighborhoods—San Marcos, Escondido, Oceanside, Leucadia, Rancho Santa Fe, and Vista—and asked them how they’d spend a dream day out and about in their town.
Courtesy of North City Farmers Market
San Marcos
San Marcos is in full renaissance mode. The biggest story is that the grand North City vision is starting to peek through the scaffolding. It’s essentially the North County Downtown that’s been written in the tea leaves and discussed whenever someone gets stuck in traffic at the 5/805 merge: a 200-acre, pedestrian-friendly, mixed-use face-changer that’s slated for 2,600 homes, 350,000 square feet of retail and restaurants, 250 hotel rooms, and about a million square feet of offices and labs. Its most recent manifestation is 222 North City—a 12-story residential tower with over 450 residences, rooftop garden, pool cabanas, art installations, and almost 20,000 square feet of ground-floor retail (Necessity Coffee, Buona Forchetta, Draft Republic, Milonga Empanadas, and a grocery store anchor on its way).
Which means Restaurant Row is no longer burdened with being the primary caregiver for the hungry or the socially inclined. Patricia Prado-Olmos has watched the city morph during her nearly three-decade tenure at CSUSM, having spent the past six years as the school’s chief community engagement officer. She also just announced her forthcoming retirement at the end of the 2026–2027 school year, so she’ll have even more time to haunt local haunts.
Meet the Local: Patricia Prado-Olmos
Those in the know call the university “Cal State StairMaster” from the Sisyphean amount of stairs on the hillside campus. So, any day at or around CSUSM should start with a homestyle carbo-load (biscuits and gravy) from Mama Kat’s.
“There’s something about this breakfast spot that immediately puts me in a good mood,” she says. Mama Kat’s is also known for its pie (strawberry-rhubarb), which is breakfast if you change your perspective.
After a few hours on campus—with a break to pet the university’s official therapy goldendoodle, Frank, who helps ease finals tremors or apprehension of on-campus stairs—Prado-Olmos will wander into North City, just steps away. She says the almond croissant and coffee at Christophe Rull Patisserie rival Parisian cafés: “It feels like the kind of place you’d stumble across in a much bigger city.”
Rull, a Michelin-trained pastry chef who’s done stints on Netflix (Bake Squad) and Food Network (Super Mega Cakes, Halloween Wars), opened his patisserie last fall. The hype hasn’t cooled off yet: Get there early because the crowds do.
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
Before, during, and after the Fourth of July, San Diegans can commemorate America’s 250th anniversary with an abundance of stars, stripes and local celebrations. America The Beautiful: 250 at The Rady Shell and Lamb’s Players Theatre’s revival of American Rhythm will look back at the many songs which define our country. Liberty Station’s Anchored in Freedom celebration and the Independence Day Carnival offer community-centered fun and loads of family-friendly activities. And who can possibly forget the Big Bay Boom, which will resume its reign over San Diego Bay as the state’s biggest fireworks show. Outside of the holiday festivities, this week brings the yearly return of Little Italy’s Summer Sera and the Athenaeum Summer Festival, as well as a slate of championship matches for All Elite Wrestling.
Sip on refreshing beverages and savor a panoramic rooftop view this Friday from 6-8 p.m. during the 21-plus Sunset & Spritz at Margaritaville Hotel San Diego Gaslamp Quarter’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere Bar. There will be a live DJ (until 9 p.m.), appetizers, pool and cabana access, a photo booth, and a cash bar (until 11 p.m.). To accentuate the summer theme, guests are invited to dress in white, pink, and orange attire. Tickets are $29 and come with a welcome aperol spritz.
616 J Street, Gaslamp
The 250 Grand Tasting Menu at Amaya
July 3 & 4
Bring a patriotic palette to the Fairmont Grand Del Mar for The 250 Grand Tasting Menu at Amaya this Friday and Saturday from 5-8:30 p.m. Patrons will be treated to a five-course tasting menu, curated to exhibit a selection of standout regional flavors and culinary concepts that have shaped our country’s distinct food heritage. The meal will also include beverage pairings with each course, such as wine, cocktails, and artisanal drinks. Reservations are $330 per person (with tax and 20% gratuity) on OpenTable.
Don Toliver thrives at being the life of the party (and the “After Party”). His fifth album Octane, released in February, is indicative of his thrill-seeking nature. As with his earlier releases, Octane sees Toliver operating in the space between hip-hop and R&B, with warbling vocals and blaring beats that are best heard at a high volume. This Tuesday at 7:30 p.m., Toliver will play at Pechanga Arena, with rappers SoFaygo, Chase B and SahBabii—who had a guest verse on Octane standout “K9”—as special guests. Tickets start at $156 for this concert.
What makes musicals like Wicked, Cats, Chicago, and Jersey Boys so timeless is the legion of excellent songs that makes fans out of those who’ve never even watched the show. This Friday at 7:30 p.m. during Blockbuster Broadway! at The Rady Shell, conductor Evan Roider, the San Diego Symphony Orchestra, and veteran vocalists Alex Getlin, Jessica Hendy, Scott Coulter, and John Boswell (also on piano) will perform an all-star theater soundtrack. In addition to the shows named above, audiences can expect songs from A Chorus Line, The Phantom of the Opera, Annie,and more. Tickets range from $57 to $129 for this concert.
222 Marina Park Way, Embarcadero
America The Beautiful: 250 at The Rady Shell
July 4
One night after recognizing the brilliance of Broadway, The Rady Shell will ring in the United States’ landmark anniversary with America The Beautiful: 250 this Saturday at 7:30 p.m. Conductor Byron Stripling, joined by a five-performer ensemble and the San Diego Symphony Orchestra, will lead a night of ballads that best resemble the red, white, and blue, including songs sourced from the Great American Songbook. After the show, concertgoers are invited to watch the nearby Big Bay Boom from their seats. Tickets range from $71 to $139 for this concert.
222 Marina Park Way, Embarcadero
Athenaeum Summer Festival at Athenaeum Music & Arts Library
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
“This is insane!” the guy filming it seems to proclaim. “It’s the best fireworks show ever!” a companion confirms, inspiring a debate lasting over a decade.
All told, 7,000 fireworks exploded in the span of 25 seconds over San Diego Bay on July 4, 2012. A Michael Bay amount of unison. $125,000 worth of shells, cakes, Roman candles, and skyrockets had been placed on a barge—enough for 17 minutes of decorative sky flares—and…
Boom.
The sky looked like someone had set a giant Rorschach test on fire. Or as if whatever we all see in our Rorschachs—butterflies, clowns, tongue kissing, dads—was being electrocuted and lifted heavenward, amen. It was shocking how bright it was, how much it sizzled the local cosmos. Could’ve been one of those sci-fi films where a hole is ripped open between warring universes. But angstier, more metal—the work of some methy creator in a sleeveless concert tee.
The sound?
Lou Reed once released an entire album that contained 64 minutes of mindflaying guitar screeches and machine noises. No regular songs, just a fascinating amount of ear distress. His record label reps no doubt heard the melodic outro of their careers, but everyone else was in pain and stumped. That album still sounded better than the bay did that night. The bay sounded like a god who struggled with emotional regulation had blown his speakers and was working through the anger stage of AV grief.
In the left frame of the video, a middle-aged woman is attempting to drag her husband off by the hand. In no way does he want to go, possibly because he had missed the time Roseanne Barr sung the national anthem at a Padres game, simultaneously disemboweling and amusing America through the power of song. He would not willingly abandon an equally worthy San Diego trainwreck.
Another woman in the video appears to have just filled her beer, rushing to sit down for the show. She pauses mid-sit and returns to the full and upright position to properly bear witness. What was supposed to be prolonged entertainment has been so radically shortened that she will have to find another reason to drink. Lucky for her, drinking will be the only way to adequately process.
Locals remember the conspiracy theories. People wondered if the fuses had been tripped by a saboteur who was sympathetic to dogs, fish, or the growing suspicion that late-stage capitalism is a gorgeously branded but impossible dream sustained by remarkably efficient top-tier wealth retention and the soft compliance of fireworks-watchers who can no longer afford a house, a beer, or the personal impacts of human reproduction.
Speaking of being terrified of babies, babies were terrified. The children who witnessed it probably still can’t go near a candle store. But those kids will be tougher, perfectly scarred kids. They’ll write better songs.
That night helped us absolutely dominate the national news cycle. For a hot minute, we became America’s water-skiing squirrel. Now, years later, when you Google “fireworks gone wrong,” San Diego is always a top contender, along with that poor Nebraska family who nearly wiped out a couple generations in their front yard, their minivan somehow turning into a howitzer of recreational TNT.
There is still debate as to whether Big Bay Boom 2012 is the worst or greatest fireworks show of all time. But the advanced parts of civilization arrived at the truth as quickly as the women in the video did. It was undeniably amazing.
First of all, the point of Fourth of July fireworks isn’t “the intricate choreography of sky fire over a guaranteed amount of show time.” It’s about creating a vivid memory shared with some people you like, love, or would like to love.
BBB2012 used large-scale chemical fire to create the ultimate memory.
Sure, some people who iron their jeans subjected their family to a sermon about how San Diego managed to botch America’s birthday like a Disney princess-for-hire who smelled of quite a few Sauvignons.
The rest of us saw how perfectly it nailed the actual feeling of being an American. Because only a miniscule percentage of us bake postcard apple pies where every inch of crust is perfectly laminated like the wood in an Irish bar. Very few of us can paint on par with Picasso. The rest of us—despite truly believing in our America-activated abilities to achieve greatness in almost any field of our choosing—burn pies. We try to paint only to realize it looks like our fine motor skills have entered active death.
That’s why BBB2012 was the most perfectly American fireworks show ever: A wildly ambitious idea galvanized thousands upon thousands of people to both work on it and come to hold a beer and gawk at it, only to have it fail in the most glorious TMZ-level spectacle.
America isn’t about immaculate, storyless wins. It’s about how the framework of a country is solid enough that we can accidentally detonate our entire lives—a few times—and still probably be OK.
No one has America’d quite like San Diego did on that day. It was performance art. Lou Reed’s heart slow-clapped. Any brief municipal embarrassment quickly became a pride of our people. I can only hope the same for the Nebraskan yard family whose Dodge Aerostar became a hyperactive Death Star.
P.S. Local writer Maya Kroth compiled a quite great oral history of that night for Thrillist. The bottom lines for me were—it took nine months to prepare, no one was hurt, and even though the pyrotechnics company tried to zero out the bill, Big Bay Boom founder H. P. “Sandy” Purdon refused and paid them in full. This year will mark the 25th Anniversary of the yearly Big Bay Boom.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
AVRP Studios’ tradition for Design Excellence and Innovation began in 1976 with Doug Austin, FAIA, in Solana Beach, California. The firm has since grown to complete major projects throughout the United States and Canada. We think of ourselves as a family and we care deeply about people. We want to inspire, help make their lives richer and more complete through our efforts. We believe that architecture is one of the most important art forms because of the impact it can have on the lives of those it touches. We’re delighted to have been recognized with over 150 awards for design excellence.
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