What’s more hardcore than history?

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 18 Jun 2025 22:24:13 +0000

What’s more hardcore than history? Rachel Sauer Wed, 06/18/2025 - 16:24

CU Boulder alumnus Dan Carlin brings a love of history and a punk sensibility to a new season of “The Ampersand” as he discusses his hit podcast, Hardcore History

Listen to The Ampersand

There are a lot of places to experience punk: in the dim, smoky basement of Club 88 in Los Angeles in 1983, listening to a then-little-known band called NOFX, but also on the ancient battlefields of Britannia, where Briton warriors drew their swords against the invading Romans.

In the first scenario, Dan Carlin was actually there wearing his signature black T-shirt and Orioles cap. The battlefield? He visits it in his vivid imagination (still in a black T-shirt and ball cap)—drinking in the details and drawing a sensory-rich narrative from historical texts and records.

CU Boulder history graduate Dan Carlin brings a punk sensibility to his wildly popular podcast, Hardcore History.

Carlin, a �鶹��Ƶ history graduate, is something of a journalist of the past—a punk rock kid who became a punk rock adult who brings that counterculture ethos to Hardcore History, among the most popular podcasts in the United States with millions of downloads per episode.

He recently joined host Erika Randall, CU Boulder interim dean of undergraduate education and professor of dance, to kick off a new season of "The Ampersand,” the College of Arts and Sciences podcast. Randall joins guests in exploring stories about “ANDing” as a “full sensory verb” that describes experience and possibility.

Their conversation covered everything from creativity to punk rock to a dog named Mrs. Brown.

DAN CARLIN: So, what makes the past interesting is not so much that it's just, oh, here's a wild story from the past. It's that even though—what did Shakespeare say? Right, "All the world's a stage, and all the people merely players"—the people in the story are people just like we are.

And so, the ability to touch base with something that is otherwise impossible for us to relate to, right, the past is a foreign country, as the saying goes. They do things differently there. Trying to imagine living in a society where they perform human sacrifice, for example, is not possible for us. But you can start to realize that the people in the story are the same as we were.

And if you took a human infant out of the incubator at your local hospital, put them in a time machine, sent them back in the past to a time where people enjoyed visiting public executions, and that child was raised in that culture, they, too, would enjoy going to public executions. So, genetically speaking, we're the same people. And I think that's the end toward understanding the past. I mean, if people ever end up on Mars someday, we might not be able to imagine what it's like to be on Mars. But we can imagine what it's like to be people, even on Mars.

ERIKA RANDALL: I teach dance history, and it really, to me, is about the people and then the context, right, and the people who are next to the people, and how going to see a World's Fair was akin to having access to the world wide web because you suddenly got to be in a moment in time. In the 1900s, all these people came together, and then the forum changed.

So, to say that with just dates and facts but not to go, “Imagine that in this moment Loie Fuller is there with Marie Curie at the same event, running into each other. And look at what that did to dance. Look how technology and art, creativity and science came together because of that confluence of human people at an event.”

And that helps to get students excited versus, “This is the kind of piece that was made at this time on this date,” but to really get into the storytelling. And then the letters, the archives, the archival material that actually brings those humans to life, I find, oh, I want students to get as excited about that as I do. What do you think we do in this generation of people who are learning with so much information that they maybe don't read the bylines perhaps the way you and I did or dive into the works cited to get into the detail of, like, what can make me feel here?

CARLIN: There's a lot to unpack in that question because I think it touches upon a lot of things that I think about but don't have any answers for. I think this is self-evident and obvious, but we're involved in a mass giant human experiment right now. And anybody who's raising kids, even my kids are late teens, early 20s, so, I mean, but they're not really kids anymore.

Dan Carlin's "The End Is Always Near" explores some of the apocalyptic moments from the past as a way to frame the challenges of the future.

But this is all part of this generation, as I tell my oldest, that cropped up literally right after she was born. I mean, once the iPhone comes around, and we're walking around with—what did Elon Musk say? We're all cyborgs now, right? Once we enter that world, we firmly leave the analog world behind.

And what I mean by that is I try to explain to people that the entire history of humanity up until about the 21st century, maybe the very, very end of the 20th, that's an analog world, right? So, if you grew up, as I did, in a pre-computer world, you lived in the same world that the people in ancient Assyria lived in, right? I mean, they came home when the metaphorical streetlights went on, just like we did, right? No way to call mom, no tracking.

But the point is so, all of a sudden, now we enter into a world where we don't know how this plays out because there hasn't been enough time. What's more, unlike ancient times, where the pace of change was slow, so that even if there was some revolutionary new discovery, right, a brand new plow is invented that's going to change the entire world, you would probably have several hundred years to incorporate that new technology and see what that was going to do to society. Even movable print, which shook up the whole world, is nothing compared to what we have now because what we have now, if you said nothing's really going to change for another 50 years, then we could sit there and try to incorporate what's happened, right?

So, there's the ability to absorb and sort of make it a part of. In other words, society redirects around the inventions so that it then becomes the society plus those inventions. But what I think we're all aware of now is that the pace of change is so quick that by the time we would incorporate, oh, my gosh, what is the world plus Facebook like…

RANDALL: It's already moved on.

CARLIN: We're off of Facebook. Yes! And so, the ability to ever get to the absorption phase is gone. What that does for society is a big unknown.

So, the question is often brought up about things like the ability to think deeply or to contemplate. Or, I mean, do people get bored without their cell phone for two minutes? Does that rob us of the ability that ancient thinkers used to have to just sit out in the open air amongst the trees and think? Or as one person pointed out—and I think there's real benefit to this, too—the counterreaction to boredom, right, what boredom makes us do.

RANDALL: Yes.

CARLIN: To not be bored ends up being…

RANDALL: It sparks creativity. It actually lights us up.

CARLIN: Yes. The games you have to invent as a kid because there is no easy access to something else, right?

RANDALL: Yeah.

CARLIN: I don't know what that means for society. I tell my kids all the time that if you happen to be somebody who bucks that trend, it reminds you of the line, "In the world of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," right? I mean, if you can do math and nobody can do math anymore, that's an advantage, right? So, I always try to turn it into, well, if you're one of the few who reads, that's going to help you.

I think doing the show when you're doing five hours of history podcasting sometimes, and that there's an audience for that, helps you go, oh, well, good. There's still that out there. But when you have more than a billion people as your potential audience, getting a few million here or there that are interested in your little niche thing is not necessarily reflective of broad societal trends.

So, I don't know that our audience is representative, and I'm not sure I can draw many conclusions from that.

RANDALL: But it doesn't make you want to go get those other billion. It makes you—like, you don't want to have to necessarily adapt your path towards those folks who want the quick flip and quick hit.

Dan Carlin has hosted Hardcore History since 2006.

CARLIN: I wouldn't do that. No, I wouldn't do that for several reasons. One, there's people who have that lane—lots of people who have that. It’s an easier lane, to be honest. But also, because it's the same thing with why I'm following the Baltimore Orioles when I live in Los Angeles, and I've never been to Baltimore. I mean, this is—I was a punk rock person. I'm a Generation X person.

There's a whole bunch of things in my biography where you just go, oh, this guy is going to do it differently. My wife would say, you just have to be different, don't you? And, yeah, I think that's what it is. So, I don't want those other people. I kind of take pride that the audience invented a name for themselves. They call themselves the "hardcorps," C-O-R-P-S.

RANDALL: Oh, I love that.

CARLIN: This is how I always was as a kid, too. It's not that I'm different and bad. I'm different, and I'm going to take pride in that. And I want my several million, instead of the billions, because it's us, right? It's our own private "hardcorps" club.

RANDALL: In the basement.

CARLIN: We're doing our own thing. You can go enjoy your 30-second TikTok pieces of entertainment.

RANDALL: I can't imagine you in that ball cap and black T-shirt as a punk rock guy. Like, who were you listening to? Were you pierced? What are we talking about? Did the visual change, or were you a contrarian there, too, when you rolled up with your Orioles cap into the basement with people with mohawks?

CARLIN: Well—and I'm speaking to people who were there now in your audience who remember—punk is a caricature of what it was then. It's hard to describe what it was like in '79 or '80 or '81.

RANDALL: In L.A., right?

CARLIN: Yeah. I mean, listen, I remember John Doe, who was the lead singer of X. He had a great line. He said punk was wearing black jeans and having a normal haircut—what we would call a normal haircut today.

If you had short hair in 1978, people would yell out the car. You know, he said people would yell out the car and yell Devo at you because that was contrary. He said, “All I had was a normal American haircut, but that was a statement in 1978.”

So, we looked more normal. A lot of times, we had a lot of hair colors. But with me, if you saw me at CU, I didn't look… I had long hair at CU.

RANDALL: Were you punk? Were you punk at CU?

CARLIN: I was always punk.

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CU Boulder alumnus Dan Carlin brings a love of history and a punk sensibility to a new season of “The Ampersand” as he discusses his hit podcast, Hardcore History.

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An apple a day? It’s the Boulder way

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 08 May 2025 17:18:27 +0000

An apple a day? It’s the Boulder way Rachel Sauer Thu, 05/08/2025 - 11:18

Rachel Sauer

Newly planted apple orchard on CU Boulder campus is a nexus of university and community partnerships and will be a living classroom for students and educators

For now, they are twiggy little things, all spindly adolescent limbs that nevertheless hint at future harvests. Saturday morning, one even wore a scattering of creamy white blossoms—flowers that, in years to come, once roots have gained hold and branches have stretched up and out, will grow into apples.

Is there anything more hopeful than planting a tree? Yes, planting a whole orchard of them.

On Saturday, years of planning, research and partnership-building bore fruit on an L-shaped plot in front of the �鶹��Ƶ 30th Street greenhouse, where more than two-dozen volunteers planted 30 apple trees in what had previously been a scrubby patch of turf.

Funded by a $90,000 Sustainable CU grant, the apple orchard will not only be a classroom and a living lab, but a nexus for community, a carbon sink and a vibrant example that sustainability can be delicious.

“It’s so exciting to see this happening,” says Amy Dunbar-Wallis, who this semester completed her PhD in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and collaborated with CU Boulder faculty and students and community partners to bring the idea of the first orchard on CU Boulder campus to fruition.

“It represents how so many people on campus, so many people in the community, have come together to plant this orchard that will be a place to learn and a place to preserve a really neat part of Boulder’s history.”

In search of old apple trees

The new apple orchard grew from the Boulder Apple Tree Project, an initiative that began almost 15 years ago with a simple observation: There seemed to be a lot of old apple trees in Boulder.

Katharine Suding, a professor of distinction in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, had recently moved to the area, “and I was really surprised to see so many old apple trees everywhere,” she recalled during the 2022 Apple Symposium. “I realized I had no idea about the histories and particularly the history of apples, so looking into it a little more, it was clear there are trees here that are remnants of past histories starting in the turn of (20th) century.

Amy Dunbar-Wallis (left) and Tiffany Willis (right, EBio'22) consult a chart designating where each tree would be planted in the new apple orchard in front of the 30th Street greenhouse Saturday morning. Willis, who lives in Boulder, took EBIO 1250 online during Covid lockdowns and was a lab assistant for the class in 2021.

“There are apple trees in Colorado and in Boulder that are remnants from old orchards that still exist. There are also remnants of trees that were planted when people came and built ranches or had farms here, and often they were bringing along apple trees from where they came from, whether it was Germany, whether it was the Midwest, whether it was Scandinavia.”

In fall 2017, the Boulder Apple Tree Project (BATP) sprouted, combining historical sleuthing with cutting-edge genetic testing and grafting to not only locate and catalog Boulder’s historic apple trees, but also to revive its legacy of apple growing. In the ongoing project, researchers gather data on the age and health of the trees, as well as the type and flavor of the apples, and the genetic diversity that the trees offer to future populations.

Suding and BATP co-principal investigator Lisa Corwin, an associate professor of ecology and evolutionary biology, have worked with undergraduate and graduate students not only to gather data, but also to develop the EBIO 1250 course, during which students conduct research on Boulder’s apple trees; curricula and materials in partnership with the CU Museum of Natural History; a database and app in collaboration with computer science students; an interactive map of apple trees that have been tagged and studied; and the A Power of Place Learning Experience and Research Network (APPLE R Net), a multi-institution research network directed by Corwin that introduces students to field research by involving them in a project examining apple trees across the Rocky Mountain region.

BATP also is part of the Historic Fruit Tree Working Group, which connects Colorado researchers with other apple-exploring groups and researchers across North America.

Mia Williams (left) waters a newly planted apple tree Saturday morning. Williams, who will graduate this summer, is double majoring in ecology and evolutionary biology and environmental studies.

“This project has grown so much since our initial community engaged Apple Blitz in 2018,” says Dunbar-Wallis. “We've tagged over 1,000 trees and created a database, taught multiple course-based undergraduate research experiences at CU and at colleges across Colorado and northern New Mexico, started a data-collection app and interactive map in collaboration with CU computer science capstone students and installed a demonstration orchard in collaboration with Boulder Open Space and Mountain Parks.”

The demonstration orchard, planted two years ago, functions as a teaching and research laboratory to explore how biodiversity affects the functioning of apple orchards and their services to human well-being, including efficient water use, pollinator habitat and structural complexity supporting natural pest control.

A part of the narrative

The idea for the 30th Street orchard was revived by a group of six undergraduate and two graduate students almost two years ago, who proposed resubmitting a grant application that hadn’t been accepted in 2019.

“We’re a group who really love what we do and love apple trees and working with the soil,” says Katie Mikell, an ecology and evolutionary biology student who is graduating today and who was a member of the team that crafted and submitted the grant proposal.

“Before, (the orchard plot) was a lawn full of monoculture turf grass, so part of our argument was that if we put in an apple orchard, it would create a carbon sink (a system that absorbs more carbon than it releases), it would save the school money and anyone walking by could pick an apple. Plus, once the trees are producing, we can donate apples to the food pantry. Everyone can benefit from an apple orchard.”

Deidre Jaeger (right, PhDEBio'22) and her sons Sage, 4 (left), and Cedar, 1 (center), plant apple trees at the 30th Street orchard Saturday morning. Jaeger was a postdoctoral researcher in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and an advisor for the Center for Sustainable Landscapes and Communities and is a researcher with the Boulder Apple Tree Project.

Students prepared the 30th Street site during fall semester, working with departments and organizations across the university, as well as many community partners. The trees planted Saturday are about three years old and were obtained from Widespread Malus and Benevolence Orchard in Boulder.

“Our students are at the core of the university, and their passion and ingenuity are critical to our values around infusing sustainability throughout CU Boulder. This orchard exemplifies that pursuit in so many ways,” says Vice Chancellor for Sustainability Andrew Mayock.

“It is not only helping to protect biodiversity in our community. It will help feed those in need on our campus and create a living-learning laboratory space where sustainability leaders of the future will learn and develop strategies for urban agriculture planning.”

Fifteen varieties of apples are represented in the orchard, including locally grown historic cultivars like Wolf River and Colorado Orange. A beloved apple tree on the Bobolink Trail is even represented in a newly planted graft.

“There’s so much learning that can happen in an orchard,” says Manuela Mejia, an ecology and evolutionary biology PhD student who will conduct her doctoral research, which will include studying insect diversity, at the orchard. “So many facets of science are represented here.”

In addition to trees, the orchard will include an understory of native, drought-tolerant grasses and pollinator-friendly wildflowers, notes Mia Williams, who is majoring in environmental studies and ecology and evolutionary biology and will graduate this summer.

“It’s really exciting that this orchard will become a part of the story of agriculture in this area,” Dunbar-Wallis says. “We’ve tagged more than 1,000 trees (through BATP) and some of them are a hundred years old, so you think about everything they’ve seen and been through, the history that they hold, their stories, and now these trees—which are little now and probably won’t produce fruit for two or three years—are part of that narrative.”

Sophie Small (left) and Amy Dunbar-Wallis (right) fill a wheelbarrow with compost Saturday morning to prepare for planting an apple orchard in front of the 30th Street greenhouse. Small, a freshman who is studying biomedical engineering, learned about the project through the CU Farm and Garden Club.

Sophie Small (left), Isaac Kou (center) and Kyrie MacArthur dig a hole Saturday morning before planting an apple tree in it. Small is studying biomedical engineering, Kou just graduated with a major in computer science and a minor in ecology and evolutionary biology and MacArthur is studying history and education.

Amy Dunbar-Wallis (PhDEBio'25) digs a hole for a young apple tree Saturday morning.

Amy Dunbar Wallis (left, black vest) educates student and community volunteers Saturday morning before they plant 30 apple trees in front of the 30th Street greenhouse.

The apple trees planted in the 30th Street orchard Saturday morning, one of which even bloomed, are three years old and should begin producing fruit in two or three years.

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Newly planted apple orchard on CU Boulder campus is a nexus of university and community partnerships and will be a living classroom for students and educators.

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Initiative gives students a voice with hip-hop

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 10 Apr 2025 15:39:27 +0000

Initiative gives students a voice with hip-hop Rachel Sauer Thu, 04/10/2025 - 09:39

Cody DeBos

Founded by a collaborative including CU Boulder scholars, the Lyripeutics Storytelling Project aims to empower Black and Brown youth through the medium of hip-hop

A Manual High School student sits behind a microphone, headphones on. Their world outside—which sometimes holds uncertainty, systemic barriers and institutional indifference but also encompasses the rich musical and cultural heritage of Denver’s Five Points neighborhood—fades away for a moment as a beat drops. As the student leans in, the cadence of hip-hop becomes an outlet to speak their truth.

For many Black and Brown youth in the greater Denver area, the Lyripeutics Storytelling Project is more than a way to express their creativity. It’s survival.

That’s why the artists and educators behind the project are battling to keep the space alive.

Shawn O'Neal (left), an assistant teaching professor of ethnic studies, and Kalonji Nzinga (right), an assistant professor of education, are co-directors of Lyripeutics.

“We’re trying to provide these platforms of learning that we think Black and Brown students in particular really resonate with,” says Kalonji Nzinga, a �鶹��Ƶ assistant professor of education and Lyripeutics co-director. “In a way, we’re just building upon the history of creating learning environments based in a cultural reference point, based in our ways of knowing.”

Through storytelling and music production, young people in the Lyripeutics program gain an opportunity to share stories of their unique cultural wealth. But while the program has been a source of empowerment for many, it also faces funding struggles and systemic resistance.

What is Lyripeutics?

Founded by a collective of CU Boulder scholars, artists, educators and community organizers, Lyripeutics’ mission is to empower Black and Brown youth through a medium many connect with—hip-hop. The program is embedded in schools in the greater Denver area and aims to offer alternative learning environments for students who find themselves overlooked in traditional education systems.

“We don’t all learn the same, yet we have this system of education that’s been around for hundreds of years and is really geared for only one very particular type of student,” says Shawn O’Neal, an assistant teaching professor in the CU Boulder Department of Ethnic Studies and Lyripeutics’ founding member and co-director.

“It’s just not working for us. For many students. It hasn’t worked,” he adds.

Rather than using the traditional education system’s philosophy of rigid structure and standardization, the Lyripeutics program operates through collaboration and an evolving process in which students, teachers and artists co-create learning spaces.

“A typical day can look quite different depending on whether we have a producer leading the session or a lecturer on hip-hop history, or an actual MC helping create space for youth to do storytelling,” O’Neal says.

Students can also create and produce their own music in the state-of-the-art hip-hop studio adjacent to the Manual High School library in Denver.

“We collaborate with other hip-hop artists across the Denver area to develop the programming and to do the instruction,” Nzinga says.

At its heart, the program is about creative expression.

“We’re even working with students on exercises like field recordings of their environments and recording their neighborhoods and creating tracks and experiences out of those,” O’Neal adds.

Building confidence, one verse at a time

Through storytelling and music production, young people in the Lyripeutics program gain an opportunity to share stories of their unique cultural wealth. (Photo: iStock)

Those behind the Lyripeutics program know education isn’t just about what happens in the classroom, but what happens when students see their own voices amplified in the real world.

Recently, one group of high school students visited the CU Boulder campus to play original tracks on the university’s radio station.

“The folks who run the radio station were just blown away,” says O’Neal. “It was an enriching experience for everyone involved.”

“We believe that doing work related to the social context, the cultural movement that is hip-hop, allows young people to really express their story from their perspective,” adds Nzinga.

For many of the youth involved, the program is much more than an extracurricular activity; for some, it’s the first time they’ve been given tools, encouragement and a platform to tell their stories, O’Neal says.

“When we get to engage with the students, it’s normally within a place of creativity and joy. We aren’t there for a lot of the day-to-day things I know they’re going through, but we see and hear the expression of their frustrations and the various roadblocks they’re up against through their music and their performance,” O’Neal says.

Fighting to keep the mic on

For all its successes, Lyripeutics faces a current reality: Programs focused on BIPOC youth, particularly those challenging traditional educational models, are under an intense microscope.

“We are at this moment receiving so much resistance from multiple levels,” Nzinga says. “From previous and future funding situations to different regulations at the state and district level—it’s extremely frustrating.”

Despite widespread recognition of the program’s impact, Nzinga and his colleagues cite an uphill battle to secure funding. While institutions like CU Boulder’s Renée Crown Wellness Institute have provided crucial support, securing consistent financial backing remains a struggle.

But the pushback isn’t just about money. Nzinga and O’Neal attribute much of the resistance to a larger national trend of rolling back diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, making it harder for programs like Lyripeutics to operate freely.

“We claim we want this type of programming for students that they need, yet we have to fight tooth and nail just to get a dollar, when we see so much money funneled into things that seem to be the antithesis of community building,” O’Neal observes.

“We believe that doing work related to the social context, the cultural movement that is hip-hop, allows young people to really express their story from their perspective.”

The most devastating consequence? Students who should be at the center of the conversation lose access to much-needed programming, and their voices are silenced—sometimes literally. Despite receiving parental consent, Lyripeutics has faced institutional roadblocks when trying to bring student voices into larger discussions about the program’s success.

“We would really prefer to have those students speaking for themselves,” O’Neal says, “But we’re not even at liberty to say many of the things we want to say.”

O’Neal and Nzinga also know Lyripeutics isn’t the only program fighting this battle. It’s part of a system of community-led education that refuses to be erased.

Nzinga says, “Our program isn’t the only one facing these types of pushback.”

“A lot of times these resistance movements try to separate us. They make us feel like we’re alone in doing this work, but we aren’t,” he adds.

When asked how outsiders can support the Lyripeutics program, Nzinga and O’Neal didn’t point to a single solution. They emphasized the importance of solidarity, awareness and amplifying voices.

“I think parents and community leaders voicing their opinions about any of the positive effects our programming has had would help,” O’Neal says.

The road ahead isn’t easy. Yet, despite the challenges, Lyripeutics will be there to keep a beat playing and a mic on for its students, ensuring the next generation of storytellers and leaders will have their voices heard.

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Founded by a collaborative including CU Boulder scholars, the Lyripeutics Storytelling Project aims to empower Black and Brown youth through the medium of hip-hop.

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