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[–] [email protected] 153 points 1 year ago (1 children)

At minimum, it’s time to investigate Clarence Thomas. When the Democrats retake the house (hopefully in 2024 after the Republicans shutdown the government over nothing), they need to begin impeachment hearings in the House. I don’t care if the Senate will never remove him.

[–] [email protected] 22 points 1 year ago

ProPublica noted that Thomas used to support the Chevron doctrine but has changed his position in recent years amid a growing corporate onslaught against the regulatory principle.

Thomas is completely bought and paid for

[–] [email protected] 11 points 1 year ago (1 children)

“I am the Senate”

-Justice Sheev Alito

[–] [email protected] 24 points 1 year ago

Exactly. The same way that Trump uses “America” to talk about himself. Anything that’s “bad for America” is bad for squarely one person.

[–] [email protected] 4 points 1 year ago (1 children)

The video shows someone shining a UV light on the iPhone 15 box to reveal watermarks and a QR code that helps verify device authenticity.

Still hidden outside of the visible light spectrum.

[–] [email protected] 23 points 1 year ago (1 children)

In the separate investigation into Sulmasy, Coast Guard investigators uncovered more than 1,600 texts between him and a young female student, the majority of which were of a “sexual or flirtatious nature,” demonstrating that “at best, he offered to give high grades and show favoritism in class in exchange for sexual banter, and at worst, he actually did so,” according to the internal Coast Guard prosecution memo.

I’m glad that swift actions were taken to remove this man from any positions of power.

[–] [email protected] 11 points 1 year ago

May the odds be ever in your favor

 

Matthew Scott Montgomery, who appeared in "So Random!" and other series, says he was subjected to shock therapy as part of his supposed treatment.

The Disney Channel put Matthew Scott Montgomery on the road to stardom more than a decade ago, but privately, the actor was grappling to come to terms with his true self.

Appearing on Tuesday’s episode of “Vulnerable With Christy Carlson Romano,” Montgomery recalled his decision to seek out so-called gay conversion therapy during his early years in Hollywood.

“In the environment that I grew up in, you’re taught that you deserve to be punished all the time,” said the North Carolina native, who appeared on “So Random!” and “Sonny With a Chance,” among other Disney Channel series.

“At the time, the career stuff was going so well that I was still in this broken prison brain of thinking: ‘I’m on red carpets. I’m on TV every week. This is too good. I should be punished on my days off.’”

He added: “Disney had nothing to do with it. It was not their idea. They didn’t know; no one knew. My cast mates did not know at the time.”

Montgomery said he visited a center in Los Angeles that was known for working with men in entertainment, though he didn’t identify anyone by name.

“Their selling point was, you look at any billboard in LA and see any male actor — they’ve been through these walls before,” he said. There, he was subjected to both electroshock therapy and hypnosis as part of his supposed treatment.

“They would kind of do a hypnosis-y kind of thing where you would imagine scenarios,” he explained. “You imagine the world is post-apocalypse and it’s a decimated Earth, and the only person left on Earth is a straight man. ... You go and you walk up and hug a straight man. And when you hugged the straight man in my mind, they would zap my hands, like the electric shock.”

Conversion therapy, sometimes referred to as “reparative therapy,” is an unfounded and harmful practice that attempts to change an LGBTQ person’s sexuality or gender identity. It has been explicitly discredited by the American Psychological Association and other top medical groups.

At present, 22 U.S. states have banned conversion therapy ― which has been known to treat LGBTQ identity as though it were an addiction ― on minors. Last year, President Joe Biden signed an executive order directing the Department of Health and Human Services to “explore guidance to clarify that federally-funded programs cannot offer so-called ‘conversion therapy.’”

However, as Montgomery’s remarks demonstrate, the practice continues to be promoted by some, especially within conservative religious communities. The actor described his parents as “very, very conservative,” and said they “were really upset” when he came out as gay at 18.

“My mom collapsed sobbing when she found out,” he said, adding that his father told him, “Being gay is a choice.”

Ultimately, Montgomery came to the realization that he could live as his authentic self after appearing in a production of Del Shores’ “Yellow,” in which he played a queer teenager who is taken in by a loving family after being rejected by his birth mother, a conservative Christian.

“That was the therapy I actually needed because I got the experience of what it was like to have a family not only love me, but celebrate me and really accept me,” he said.

These days, Montgomery’s career is once again on the upswing. Last year, it was announced that “Howdy, Neighbor!” — an LGBTQ-inclusive horror film featuring a script he’d written — had been picked up for production. He also recently reunited with Demi Lovato, a fellow Disney Channel veteran, on the Peacock documentary series “Unidentified.”

In his “Vulnerable” interview, he described Lovato as “my soulmate” and “the person who loves me the deepest,” and he credited the pop star with helping him “curate a life that was filled with love and art and expression.”

[–] [email protected] 72 points 1 year ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 children)

Republicans impeach one of their own for years of blatant corruption

Republicans: Why would Joe Biden do this?

 

Bijou Phillips filed to end her 12-year marriage to the "That '70s Show" star less than a week after she said she would be standing by him.

Danny Masterson’s wife, Bijou Phillips, has filed for divorce from the former “That ’70s Show” cast member just weeks after he was sentenced to 30 years to life in prison for raping two women.

TMZ is reporting that Phillips filed divorce documents in a Los Angeles-area courtroom on Monday.

Her lawyer, Lauzon Paluch, told the website that Phillips “has decided to file for divorce from her husband during this unfortunate time” and said “her priority remains with her daughter.”

Paluch said the effect of the recent events “has been unimaginably hard on the marriage and the family” but stressed that Masterson “was always present” for her “during her most difficult times of her life” and “is a wonderful father to their daughter.”

The filing comes less than a week after sources close to the former actor and model told People that she had no plans to end the 12-year marriage despite being “distraught” by the course of events.

Phillips’ divorce filing has become part of the chain reaction among Masterson’s friends and family since his conviction.

His former “That ’70s Show” cast mates Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis came under fire after writing letters calling for leniency on Masterson’s behalf. Both then stepped down from a nonprofit organization that Kutcher co-founded in 2009 with then-wife Demi Moore that seeks to combat child sex abuse.

 

Manson blew his nose on a concert videographer in New Hampshire in an “egregious” assault, a judge said

Marilyn Manson has been sentenced to 20 hours of community service and a fine of about $1,400 for spitting and blowing his nose on a concert videographer, The Associated Press reports. The incident took place at a 2019 concert in Gilford, New Hampshire. Manson pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor simple assault charge after turning himself in to authorities some 18 months after his arrest warrant was issued.

In a court statement read in her absence, the videographer, Susan Fountain, said, “I’ve never been humiliated or treated like I was by this defendant. For him to spit on me and blow his nose on me was the most disgusting thing a human being has ever done.” The judge described the assault as “egregious,” according to The Associated Press.

Manson must also alert police to any concerts planned for New Hampshire for the next two years and complete his community service by Sunday, February 4, 2024. He is permitted to carry out the service in California, where he resides.

When reached by Pitchfork, a representative for Marilyn Manson offered no comment.

 

In 2008's Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Kristen Bell and Russell Brand were thrown into raunchy sex scenes - but Bell made sure of no funny business off-screen

Kristen Bell threatened to "lop Russell Brand’s nuts off" if he tried anything with her on the set of Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

The pair were brought together for the 2008 Hollywood rom-com - also starring Jason Segel, Mila Kunis and Jonah Hill - as celebs whose secret romance was just uncovered (to the heartbreak of her ex-boyfriend).

However, following accusations of rape, sexual assault and emotional abuse against Brand in a documentary - accusations he’s fervently denied - prior comments about his behaviour across his career have started resurfacing.

To promote Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Kristen was grilled on Brand’s known sexual lothario image of the time, and how that tied into his role as sex-crazed rockstar, Aldous Snow, in the film.

Not one to mince her words, Kristen - who is married to comedian Dax Shepard - declared that he "didn’t try to mess with her or get in her pants".

“He knew I would lop his nuts off,” she bluntly told the interviewer.

In another chat, she said that she had clearly shut down the idea of any sexual activity with the British star from the outset.

“I made it really clear from the beginning that I would sock him in the balls if he tried anything. So he was intimidated,” she said.

However, in a chat with Empire magazine, Kristen acknowledged Brand as a "gentleman" during sex scenes.

 

Leslie Jones told People magazine while promoting her new memoir, “Leslie F*cking Jones,” that her longtime friend Chris Rock went to counseling after Will Smith slapped him at the 2022 Academy Awards. Rock wrote the foreword to Jones’ new book.

“That shit was humiliating. It really affected him,” Jones said. “People need to understand his daughters, his parents, saw that. He had to go to counseling with his daughters.”

Variety has reached out to Rock’s representative for comment.

Jones added that the Oscars slap “infuriated” her, adding, “You don’t know that I was going to jump in my car and roll up there. I was so fucking mad on so many levels… Chris Rock did a fucking joke. I know Will, too… I was like, you couldn’t handle that shit afterwards? This is the Oscars. The whole world is watching.”

Rock was presenting the Oscar for best documentary when he made a joke about Jada Pinkett Smith’s bald head, despite her public battle with alopecia. Smith reacted by taking to the stage and slapping Rock across the face. He returned to his seat and yelled at Rock, “Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.” Smith, who went on to win the Oscar for best actor that same night, ended up resigning from the Academy amid backlash to the slap. The Academy then banned Smith from its membership and from attending events such as the Oscars for 10 years.

Sean Penn recently graced the cover of Variety magazine and lambasted Smith for the Oscars slap.

“I don’t know Will Smith. I met him once,” Penn said. “He seemed very nice when I met him. He was so fucking good in ‘King Richard.’ So why the fuck did you just spit on yourself and everybody else with this stupid fucking thing? Why did I go to fucking jail for what you just did? And you’re still sitting there? Why are you guys standing and applauding his worst moment as a person?”

Jones’ memoir will be released on Sept. 19.

 

The late-night host has faced harsh criticism after announcing the return of his show last week.

Bill Maher is the latest host to walk back plans to return to TV without WGA writers amid the Hollywood strikes.

Maher credited reports that the AMPTP would soon return to negotiations with the striking WGA as the reason for this reversal. "My decision to return to work was made when it seemed nothing was happening and there was no end in sight to this strike," Maher tweeted on Monday. "Now that both sides have agreed to go back to the negotiating table I'm going to delay the return of Real Time, for now, and hope they can finally get this done."

After announcing last week that Real Time with Bill Maher would return to production "sans writers or writing," the host faced immense pushback. Keith Olbermann, for example, tweeted: "As somebody who's known you since 1978: F--- you, Bill."

Real Time with Bill Maher joins The Drew Barrymore Show, The Talk, and The Jennifer Hudson Show in delaying their planned returns amid pressure from strikers.

Now that the unions have flexed their power and demonstrated the public's continuing sympathy with the strikers, the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) is returning to the negotiating table. Deadline reports that the AMPTP will resume bargaining with the WGA this Wednesday.

 

Russell Brand’s upcoming live shows have all been postponed following allegations of rape and sexual assault.

“We are postponing these few remaining addiction charity fundraiser shows, we don’t like doing it – but we know you’ll understand,” said a one-line statement from the promoters of Brand’s Bipolarisation tour in the past few minutes.

Brand was due to perform tomorrow at the Theatre Royal Windsor, with further dates in Wolverhampton and Plymouth.

Brand’s management and bosses at the Theatre Royal had spent this morning deciding whether to proceed with tonight’s show. A Theatre Royal statement said it will be “offering ticket refunds in line with our Terms & Conditions of sale.”

 

cross-posted from: https://feddit.uk/post/2450775

Hudson's is the latest daytime show to halt production, following similar announcements from The Drew Barrymore Show and The Talk.

The Jennifer Hudson Show has paused production and pushed back its return to the air following backlash from the writers' strike, EW has learned.

The EGOT's daytime talk show was set to premiere its newest season on Monday, Sept. 18, but that was before Drew Barrymore attempted to cross the picket line.

Barrymore had announced her decision to resume her eponymous talk show on Sept. 18 in spite of the Writer's Guild of America strike, now in its 18th week. The Never Been Kissed actress faced a heap of criticism for the move, leading her to pause her show's return until the resolution of the strike.

"I have no words to express my deepest apologies to anyone I have hurt and, of course, to our incredible team who works on the show and has made it what it is today," Barrymore wrote on social media earlier today.

Shortly after that news, The Talk followed suit, pausing its season premiere, which was also set for Sept. 18. A rep for CBS told EW the network would "continue to evaluate plans for a new launch date."

Since the strikes began, other daytime talk shows, including The View, Tamron Hall, and Live With Kelly and Mark, have been filming new episodes. The Sherri Shepherd Show is currently scheduled to premiere its new season as planned on Monday.

After more than two months of picketing, the WGA writers were joined by SAG-AFTRA actors in striking against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP), bringing Hollywood to heel. While SAG card-carrying performers can technically still appear on talk shows, they can't promote any work distributed, produced, or financed by AMPTP studios or streaming platforms.

 

cross-posted from: https://feddit.uk/post/2414370

An investigation by the Sunday Times and Channel 4's Dispatches has accused Russell Brand of rape, sexual assaults and emotional abuse, which he strenuously denies

Comedian Russell Brand had to have a 'no sex' clause written into his contract when he landed the Big Brother spin off show presenting job, it has been claimed in Channel 4's Dispatches programme.

The 48-year-old, who has starred in Hollywood films, been a stand-up and is now a Youtube star, is accused of rape, sexual assault and emotional abuse, allegations which he has vehemently denied. Dispatches claims to have spoken to women who have been assaulted or emotionally abused by the Arthur actor.

While the show was being aired, Brand was performing in front of a crowd of 2,000 fans at the Troubador Theatre, Wembley, the first time he has been seen since the allegations were first made by Dispatches, the Sunday Times and The Times. He told the crowd: "I really appreciate your support. I love you. I want to do a fantastic show for you. I've got a lot of things to talk to you about. There are obviously some things that I absolutely can not talk about - and I appreciate that you will understand."

It comes less than 24 hours after Brand took to his own Youtube channel to address the claims in a statement last two minutes and 45 seconds. Brand said: "I've received two extremely disturbing letters or a letter and an email. One from a mainstream media TV company, one from a newspaper listing a litany of extremely egregious and aggressive attacks, as well as some pretty stupid stuff like community festival should be stopped, that I shouldn't be able to attack mainstream media narratives on this channel.

"But amidst this litany of astonishing rather baroque attacks, often very serious allegations that I absolutely refute. These allegations pertain to the time when I was working in the mainstream, when I was in the newspapers all the time, when I was in the movies. And as I've written about extensively in my books, I was very, very promiscuous."

One of the women interviewed as part of the Dispatches documentary claims Brand had a 'no sex' clause written into his contract, which she says he told her about after they had slept together when he is said to have urged her to keep it a secret. She said: "One of the memories which is very vivid is I must’ve gone to see what he wanted for lunch, he saw it was me and turned around. I wasn’t close to him but I saw he had his penis out of his shorts.

"I was scared to rock the boat, I felt very anxious, I was scared of what the repurcussions would be. I wasn’t going to tell anyone what he’d done because I didn’t want to lose hey job. His flirations grew stronger with me, I wss flattered, I was sucked Ito his world, He was a very intoxicating person."

Brand's colleague met up with him and they had sex for the first time and it was then that she claims he told her she "couldn’t tell anyone else on the crew, it had to be a complete secret. He had it written into his contact he wasn’t allowed to have any sexual contact with anyone working on Big Brother." In Brand's own autobiography, he admits his agent had to sign a contract saying the star would be no trouble."

If you've been the victim of sexual assault, you can access help and resources via www.rapecrisis.org.uk or calling the national telephone helpline on 0808 802 9999.

 

"I’m trying to mature here and realize I can just walk away from the parts of this that no longer make me happy” said the singer-songwriter

Maren Morris released the songs “The Tree” and “Get the Hell Out of Here” on Friday — and announced she’s also getting out of the country music industry.

The singer-songwriter, 33, revealed in an interview with the Los Angeles Times that she’s leaving the genre and plans to release music on Columbia Records, instead of Columbia Nashville, moving forward. The Grammy winner also opened up about her decision to “take a step back,” explaining that she’s felt “very, very distanced” from industry and its politics.

“I thought I’d like to burn it to the ground and start over,” Morris told the outlet of country music. “But it’s burning itself down without my help.”

The “Middle” singer opened up about the challenges of advocating for progress in the country industry and being outspoken about her progressive beliefs — which have included supporting the LGBTQ+ community, taking a stand for the Black Lives Matter movement, and critiquing people like Jason Aldean’s wife Brittany Kerr Aldean for making transphobic comments.

“I’ve always been an asker of questions and a status quo challenger just by being a woman. So it wasn’t really even a choice,” Morris said. “The further you get into the country music business, that’s when you start to see the cracks. And once you see it, you can’t un-see it.”

The pop artist explained that she tried to advocate for change, but only found that made her unpopular. She added, “I’m trying to mature here and realize I can just walk away from the parts of this that no longer make me happy.”

The star continued, “Being one of the few women that had any success on country radio, everything you do is looked at under a microscope. You’re scrutinized more than your male peers, even when you’re doing well. So I’ve had to clear all of that out of my head this year and just write songs. A lot of the drama within the community, I’ve chosen to step outside out of it.”

Morris also commented on the popularity of songs like Aldean’s, 46, controversial “Try That in a Small Town,” which received backlash for what many interpreted as having a pro-violent, conservative message. “People are streaming these songs out of spite. It’s not out of true joy or love of the music. It’s to own the libs,” she said.

Fans speculate that the performer’s music video for “The Tree,” which she’s released as a double single project called The Bridge, includes references to the Aldean video. As the new clip also includes posters that read, “Lunatic Country Music Person,” it also appears to include a nod to how former Fox News pundit Tucker Carlson labeled her as such.

The hitmaker also recently spoke to Billboard in their Pride issue cover story about her commitment to being an ally.

"I have heard the term 'Shut up and sing' more times than I can count — that’s always the cutesy little threat that they like to make," the CMA award winner said. "So I would say to my peers who are artists and to record-label heads, publishers, songwriters: I don't think any of us got into this art form to be an activist, but that’s ultimately thrust upon you to exist in this space and to feel like you can sleep at night."

 

If there was one punk group that positioned itself as a leader of a movement for inclusivity, radical change, and allyship in the early 2000s, it was Anti-Flag.

Co-founded by Justin Geever, a.k.a. Justin Sane, in Pittsburgh in 1993, members flitted in and out until the group solidified in 1999. Anti-Flag would go on to draw legions of devoted fans for their progressive messaging and political activism, including anti-war causes and animal-rights advocacy.

Geever served as the face, voice, and outward idealism of the group for decades. The band was proud to declare itself a safe space for people of all walks of life, especially women, and became vocal supporters of survivors of violent crime after the murder of a band member’s sister. That idealism would also become a central tenet to some of Geever’s lyrics. “This is what a feminist looks like!” he sings on 2005’s “Feminism Is for Everybody,” followed immediately by “This is what a feminist sounds like!”

Knowing what the band meant to so many, Kristina Sarhadi was sickened by the burden that she could shatter fans’ entire faith in the group. The New York holistic therapist and health coach had been a die-hard fan until a fall 2010 night with Geever. “It’s been this internal battle for me for over a decade,” Sarhadi tells Rolling Stone. “I truly believed his persona, and what [the band] were always consistently, persistently singing and talking about. I didn’t want to be the one to take that away from anyone else.”

But in mid-July, Sarhadi appeared on a podcast to accuse the 50-year-old of violent sexual assault. Although Sarhadi did not name Geever directly, all details pointed to him. (Sarhadi confirmed to Rolling Stone that Geever was the subject of the allegation.) Hours later, Anti-Flag wiped its social media presence — including band members’ personal pages — and released a short statement. “Announcement,” read the post. “Anti-Flag has disbanded.”

Despite upcoming shows in Europe, the group broke up immediately. Instead of acknowledging the accusation, though, the band offered no denial or further explanation. The assault claim contradicted everything Anti-Flag and Geever claimed to stand for. Now, when faced with their own reckoning, there was only silence.

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A week later, Geever categorically denied the allegation. “I have never engaged in a sexual relationship that was not consensual, nor have I ever been approached by a woman after a sexual encounter and been told I had in any way acted without her consent or violated her in any way,” he wrote.

The other members — Patrick Bollinger, a.k.a. Pat Thetic, Chris Head, and Chris Barker, a.k.a. Chris No. 2 — released a statement alongside Geever, saying they were “shaken” and “heartbroken” by the accusation, adding it has always been their “core tenet” to believe survivors. “Therefore, we felt the only immediate option was to disband,” they wrote. “While we believe this is extremely serious, in the last 30 years we have never seen Justin be violent or aggressive toward women.”

Kristina Sarhadi in 2023. Sarhadi works as a holistic therapist and health coach in New York Courtesy of Kristina Sarhadinone Sarhadi’s claim, however, is echoed by an additional 12 women who spoke to Rolling Stone about their alleged encounters with Geever, going back to the 1990s and as recently as 2020. These allegations include predatory behavior, sexual assault, and statutory rape, including sexual relations with a 12-year-old when Geever was a teenager. (Geever did not reply to multiple requests for comment after Rolling Stone sent him a detailed list of allegations for this article.)

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“He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” says Jenn, who met Geever as a 16-year-old in 1997. (Rolling Stone is identifying Jenn by her first name.) “He came across as super supportive. He was like, ‘Yeah, we need more girls in punk rock,’ and ‘Get out there!’ He played the part of lifting women up, but at the same time, he was holding them down, literally.”

Sarhadi couldn’t believe the night she was having. A seemingly fated encounter with Geever had led the then-22-year-old to a glamorous film festival afterparty as Geever’s guest, who was now introducing her to various movie producers and music figures as his girlfriend. Hours later, she would wish she never attended the party.

The two had met a few days earlier when Sarhadi snagged tickets to the band’s show in Brooklyn. Geever locked eyes with her from the stage, she says, and approached her after the show. While chatting, Geever mentioned he’d be near her hometown for the festival, Sarhadi says, and the two exchanged numbers. The pair met up, but instead of the dinner Geever had originally mentioned, she says, he asked her to drive them to the party.

Throughout the night, Sarhadi says, she rebuffed Geever’s advances — including him trying to persuade her to climb into the car’s back seat to have sex. Sarhadi says she was dropping Geever off at his hotel when he asked her to go to his room to hear a new song he recorded. Sarhadi claims Geever wanted to make a pit stop at the hotel bar, which was surprising because both were straight edge. But Geever allegedly told Sarhadi he was drinking that night because he was going through a personal issue with his fiancée.

Sarhadi followed suit, and together they drank beers and took shots before heading upstairs, Sarhadi says, to listen to the song. Once inside the room, Sarhadi says, Geever locked the door and playfully tackled her on the bed. “But as soon as I hit the bed, he put his hand around my throat and basically turned into a monster,” she described on the Enough podcast. “To this day, I still have flashes of his face above me, holding me down.”

Geever proceeded to sexually assault her, Sarhadi claims. “It went on for a very long time,” she added on the podcast. “It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. I can’t stress how violent he was and how much I fully believed I was going to die, that he was going to kill me.” (Rolling Stone spoke with a friend of Sarhadi who said she had told them about the alleged assault earlier this year when discussing their bad experiences with men in the punk scene. Two of Sarhadi’s family members tell Rolling Stone they learned about the alleged assault a few weeks before the podcast aired, as Sarhadi was preparing to come forward.)

Kristina Sarhadi with Geever Courtesy of Kristina Sarhadinone As Sarhadi’s story spread following her podcast appearance, numerous women began connecting with one another online about their own alleged encounters with Geever. Like Sarhadi, most women had been ardent fans of Anti-Flag, collecting posters, T-shirts, and CDs, and traveling to multiple shows as often as possible.

“I didn’t say anything for a variety of reasons,” Molly Newborn says of her 1999 run-in with Geever, who allegedly tried to kiss the then-17-year-old when he was 26 and bring her back to his hotel room after she said she was a virgin. “But a big one would probably be: I don’t think people would believe it, that this guy is a creepo, because he sings about feminism,” she says.

“I had no idea it happened to anyone else,” Sarhadi adds. “I felt stupid, embarrassed, and confused, because how could it have happened with this person? He is the anti-rape singer. They are the outspoken feminist band who released an album benefiting women victims of crime. It doesn’t make any sense. [But] even in nature, the worst predators have the best camouflage.”

Anti-Flag’s mission was clear from their 1996 debut album, Die for the Government. “We were angry about Gulf War Syndrome, where chemical weapons were used and the government tried to hide the fact,” Geever said in 2009. “It was a giant ‘Fuck you’ for allowing innocent people to suffer.”

The band began to take off with the release of its second album, A New Kind of Army, in 1999 and joined the Warped Tour — the behemoth summer festival that helped popularize the punk-revival scene — a year later. Throughout the early and mid-2000s, Anti-Flag grew a sizable younger fan base, with many of the people who spoke for this article crediting the band in shaping their own identities and beliefs in a time of post-9/11 political uncertainty. Even after the Warped Tour’s dissolution in 2019, the band continued to tour to sold-out shows in the U.S. and Europe.

“I felt stupid, embarrassed, and confused, because how could it have happened with this person? He is the anti-rape singer.”

Kristina Sarhadi none Geever readily lived up to the position of Anti-Flag’s frontman. He was engaging and articulate in interviews, bouncing from Donald Trump to the evils of capitalism and his work as a board member of the nonprofit Punk Rock Saves Lives. With fans, he was approachable and generous with his time, taking photos and doling out free merch. It didn’t hurt that Geever’s boyish good looks followed him past his forties.

“[Anti-Flag] felt unique, a ‘fuck the patriarchy and fuck the system, burn it all down’ kind of thing,” early fan Rebecca, who is being identified by her first name, explains. Geever was the “charismatic guy onstage, sharing these thoughts that were so moving,” she says. “He presented as a safe person that had your back [and] was on your side.”

For Suzanne, who discovered Anti-Flag as a teen, and others, the band’s lyrics and politics were a road map in forming her own beliefs. “Their ideas and progressive way of thinking [were] so enlightening to me,” she says. “I really looked to that band and punk rock as who I wanted to be.” (Rolling Stone is identifying Suzanne by her middle name.)

So it seemed like a pinch-me moment straight out of a rom-com, Sarhadi, Suzanne, and many others say, when Geever zeroed in on them from the stage and sought them out after a show to strike up an enthusiastic conversation. “It was like, ‘Holy shit,’ ” says Suzanne, who met Geever at the band’s spring 2002 show in Cleveland. “This is a band I idolize. How is he interested in me? I didn’t really believe it.”

The two began dating shortly after that first meeting, Suzanne says, with Geever allegedly taking several solo trips to her Arizona hometown, professing his love for her and taking the 17-year-old’s virginity outside of a car. (Rolling Stone has reviewed a photo of Suzanne and Geever alongside letters Suzanne says he sent her. Suzanne’s close friend from high school tells Rolling Stone she met Geever several times while he was dating Suzanne.) To her mother, Suzanne says, there were no obvious red flags — Geever claimed that he was 19. He was actually 30.

Geever and “Suzanne.” Suzanne says she now works in real estate, is married to a “thoughtful, empathetic, and compassionate” husband and is raising their daughters with the same values Courtesy of “Suzanne”none “It makes me sick,” Suzanne says. “I think that I was groomed. He took advantage of his status and me being young.”

Geever’s alleged predatory behavior was a direct contradiction to what he was proclaiming publicly, even going out of his way to condemn others in the scene. In 2017, he backed a protester who went up against the Dickies frontman Leonard Graves Phillips with a sign that read, “Teen girls deserve respect, not gross jokes from disgusting old men! Punk shouldn’t be predatory.” “I do happen to share their point of view,” he told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. “My point of view is that sexualizing women and calling them the c-word is not something that should be tolerated.”

Five months later, Geever was allegedly sending a stream of sexual messages to French college student Mat, who tells Rolling Stone that she had approached him for help on a paper about feminism and the place of women in punk-rock music. (Mat is being identified by a variation of her first name.)

Given how vocal Geever was about championing women, Mat — a fan of the band — hoped to interview him for the project. While Geever said he couldn’t help — citing a busy tour schedule — Mat was pleasantly surprised when he continued to message her about their interests and his family health struggles. The two rapidly developed an intimate friendship.

Within two months, Mat says, Geever began implying they would start a life together in the United States. Thoughtful conversations about their days and interests gave way to Geever repeatedly making sexual requests. “I remember one day I talked to him about some problems in my family that were important to me at that moment,” Mat says. “He just said, ‘Oh, OK, I’m sorry for you. I’m horny, can you call?’ ”

They finally met in person when Geever was touring Europe with Anti-Flag in June 2018. After driving to Luxembourg with her parents, Mat says, Geever took her back to his hotel and later that night initiated sex, which Mat describes as rough. “I was just like a statue,” she says, adding that he choked and spat on her without consent. “I had the feeling that he was having sex alone with me.”

The next morning, Mat says, instead of spending quality time together at breakfast, Geever was more concerned about rushing back to the hotel to have sex again before she had to leave. (That morning, Mat says, Geever admitted he had a girlfriend, but downplayed the seriousness of the relationship.) Afterward, Geever allegedly insisted that she shower, and said the next time she shouldn’t come with her parents. Days later, despite Geever saying he believed there was a future between them, Mat says Geever abruptly cut things off. “I spent months thinking I was stupid, I wasn’t enough, or I was bad in bed,” Mat says. “I felt like an object.”

Mat and Suzanne are two of 13 women Rolling Stone spoke with who claim Geever exploited the power he wielded with younger, enamored girls and women for his own sexual gratification, with several saying they were disturbed to recognize their own experiences mirrored in Sarhadi’s account. Seven of the women were teenagers at the time of their encounters. An eighth was 12 years old.

Susie, who is using a variation of her birth name, claims she was 15 when Geever — then 35 — took her virginity when the band was playing in Germany in August 2008, following the release of their seventh album, The Bright Lights of America. The two had met at another European Anti-Flag gig, and Susie claims Geever recognized and greeted her when she turned up to the German show. He allegedly took her to a shed on the concert grounds, where they had sex. “He told me not to tell anyone afterwards,” Susie claims. (A friend who was at the show confirmed to Rolling Stone that Geever and Susie were alone for some time that day, acknowledging she knew “something” had occurred between the pair.)

Three years later, Susie says, she received an email from Geever, who she sporadically kept in touch with. In the July 2011 email, reviewed by Rolling Stone, Geever mentions he’s playing at the same venue in Germany again, and how he was reminded of Susie and the “little shack where we spent some time together.” “That night was very memorable,” the email reads. “I know that it must have been a lot for you to handle — I hope that looking back it’s a good and not a bad memory for you.”

Another woman, Stefanie, says she felt Geever was attracted to her being an inexperienced 21-year-old when they began a sexual relationship in 2012. (Rolling Stone is identifying Stefanie by her middle name.) He was charming and repeatedly professed his strong feelings for her, Stefanie says, which she now feels was a form of manipulation to get her to comply or be open to more extreme sexual acts. “He said, ‘I’m so dominant in bed, but so sweet otherwise,’ ” Stefanie claims, adding that Geever forced her to call him “master” while she was the “slave.” In one instance, she claims, Geever’s mood shifted and he put his hands around her throat. Stefanie says she became frightened and began to cry, to which Geever stopped and apologized to her. (A friend of Stefanie’s who was aware of their relationship tells Rolling Stone that Stefanie told her about the incident soon after it happened.)

“We never talked about BDSM stuff,” Stefanie says. “We never talked about that kind of dominance. He once texted me something [about domination fantasies], and I told him that I didn’t like it.”

Karina and Rebecca, who both dated Geever when they were teenagers, say they could relate to Sarhadi’s description of Geever’s attentiveness and kindness vanishing when the encounter turned sexual. “I was one among many made to feel special, manipulated, pressured, and then just thrown to the side of the road,” says Karina, who is using a pseudonym and described herself as sexually inexperienced when she began dating Geever at age 16, right as Anti-Flag was taking off. (Geever was 23 at the time.) She developed an eating disorder and blamed herself for not being able to hold Geever’s attention, she says, after he had convinced her it was OK for him to have sex with other women. When they were together, Karina says, her sexual encounters with Geever would “physically escalate” with no discussion or regard for her comfort.

“Later I learned, that’s not the way it should be,” Karina says. “That’s not a way to show love.”

“It makes me sick. It was like, ‘Holy shit.’ This is a band I idolize. How is he interested in me? I didn’t really believe it. I think that I was groomed. He took advantage of his status and me being young.”

Three women say their encounters with Geever escalated from predatory circumstances to violent assault. Ella, who is using a variation of her middle name, claims Geever made sexual advances on her as a teen. The two met when she was 16, on the Warped Tour in Maryland, in the summer of 2009. Mingling among the grounds, Ella says, she ran into Geever — then 36 — who allegedly asked her age before saying he was “thinking of doing something dumb” and asking for her phone number.

Hours later, they met up after Geever messaged her, she says, with Geever allegedly taking her into a wooded area off-site. Ella claims Geever began kissing her and performed a sex act on her. “He definitely wanted to go further,” she says. “But I was like, ‘I have to leave, my mom is coming to pick me up.’ ” Ella claims that upon going their separate ways, Geever told her not to say anything.

The two occasionally kept in contact. Four years later, following a 2013 Anti-Flag show in Baltimore, Ella says, she and Geever had sex. She describes the encounter as consensual, but says Geever repeatedly asked if she was a virgin.

Geever encouraged Ella to follow the band to its next show, in Pittsburgh, she says. (Rolling Stone reviewed a Facebook status Ella posted about driving up to Pittsburgh in the fall of 2013.) “I knew that we were going to have sex,” Ella says. “But I was still very young; I was not very sexually experienced.… He kept asking me if I was a virgin, and then bound my wrists and gagged me.” Ella claims she explicitly told Geever not to perform certain sex acts, but he ignored her.

“I was in pain by the end of it,” she says. “As more time has gone on and I’ve been with other people and had more experiences, you realize, ‘OK, hold on, that was a hard boundary for me that he ignored.’ I refer to all of it as ‘that guy who assaulted me.’ ” (A close friend of Ella’s confirmed that Ella told her about the alleged assault a few weeks after it happened. Rolling Stone also reviewed a tweet Ella posted last August alluding to Geever and the alleged assault.)

Elizabeth met Geever during the Warped Tour in 2007, when she was 18 and the band was coming off its biggest release yet with For Blood and Empire, following its signing with RCA. (Rolling Stone is identifying Elizabeth by her middle name.) At a show two years later, Geever pulled her and another fan from the crowd onstage. The two made plans for Elizabeth, a hairdresser, to attend the next show to cut Geever’s hair. As Elizabeth watched the subsequent gig from backstage, Geever gave her a shout-out. “I’ve been looking up to this band for so long,” Elizabeth says. “When I turned 18, my first tattoo was an Anti-Flag tattoo.… [The shout-out] was a huge deal. It felt honestly indescribable.” (Rolling Stone reviewed photos of Elizabeth with Geever at the shows.)

After spending time on the tour bus with the rest of the band, Elizabeth says, Geever took her on a walk, where he pulled her into a secluded area outside a building, began kissing her, and stuck his hands down her pants. “I was feeling so torn because I was scared [and] I was very young,” she says. But she was also elated. “I was like, ‘Oh, my gosh, this is unreal. He likes me and he wants to date me.’ ”

For the next few months, Elizabeth remained in frequent contact with Geever as he was on tour in Europe. Sometimes Geever sent her sweet messages, she says. Other times, she claims, he would send unsolicited nude images and call her unprompted while masturbating. “It jumped all around,” she says. “When he would call me, it was never to have a conversation. As soon as I picked up, he was panting and telling me what he was doing to himself.”

“I was getting creeped out,” she adds. “I wouldn’t even say anything on the phone most of the time. I didn’t even know what to say — I had never been in that kind of phone call with anybody ever in my life.”

The two eventually fell out of touch until 2011, when Elizabeth was visiting Pittsburgh and reached out to Geever, who invited her to a recording studio, she says. Elizabeth says Geever almost immediately tried to put his hands down her pants, began forcibly kissing her, and made her perform oral sex on him. “He just seemed like he was mad, and a different person,” she recalls. Afterward, Elizabeth says she quickly left. “I just wanted to get out of there,” she says. “But at the same time, I was like, ‘OK, maybe his desires are a little bit more rough.’ I was unsure if that was him or if it was just his preferences.”

The next day, the two were supposed to go for lunch, but Geever asked Elizabeth to meet him at a hotel, where Elizabeth says he assaulted her. “He first put a spreader bar on me, which I had never seen in my life at that point,” she says. “At another point, he flipped me over with the spreader bar and hogtied me — which again, I had never even been restrained. It was very scary because it wasn’t anything that he asked. None of that mattered.”

In the middle of the alleged assault, Elizabeth says Geever took a personal phone call. “From the sounds of it, it was, like, a dental visit, and he just left me there like that,” she says. “I’m facedown into the pillow sobbing and he left me like that.”

Afterward, Elizabeth says Geever appeared cheery and wanted to get lunch, describing herself as feeling rattled by the emotional whiplash. Moments before, she was restrained and her cries of pain were ignored. Now, she was expected to calmly eat lunch in public across from the person who she says seemed unfazed by her obvious discomfort. “With mascara all over my face, I ran out of there,” she says. (Two friends recall Elizabeth telling them about the encounter soon after they met, when she moved to her current city. One says she was told around 2018 during a conversation about the Warped Tour. The second says Elizabeth told her roughly two to four years ago, when Anti-Flag came up in a conversation about music.)

“It is important for everyone to know … that you are a monster. My father had 15 T-shirts of Anti-Flag. He just put everything in the trash.”

Matnone A third woman, Hannah Stark, filed a police report against Geever in August on accusations of sexual assault stemming from an early 2020 encounter in the United Kingdom. Her story, which Rolling Stone has corroborated through reviewing photos of injuries, her messages with Geever, and conversations about the assault with friends, mirrors the violent experience of Sarhadi’s.

Stark claims Geever suddenly handcuffed her, spanked her, and forced her to perform oral sex, as he used degrading language toward her. She says she tried to physically get away from Geever at one point, but could not. “I couldn’t breathe, and then he eventually stopped,” she says. “When I looked up at him, he just had this look of satisfaction on his face. It was horrible.” At no point did Geever check that she was OK or ask for consent to the acts, Stark says, describing herself as “scared.” Stark acknowledges she didn’t explicitly say no to Geever, because she feared it “would make things worse.” “To be honest, I thought he would like that,” she says.

Police in the U.K. confirmed to Rolling Stone they received a “report of a serious sexual assault” related to Stark’s allegation. Although Stark says she provided police with a witness list and offered 300-plus items of documentation, she says the police recently informed her that they were declining to move forward because she never told Geever “no.”

In the two years since the alleged assault, Stark says she scoured the internet with a sinking feeling. “Something in me was like, ‘There’s no way that I’m the only person he has done this to,’ ” she says. Finding nothing, Stark decided to anonymously post on the Tumblr page “The Industry Ain’t Safe” one night in March 2022. “Justin Sane from Anti-Flag,” she wrote. “Am I really the only person this has happened to?”

The Tumblr post became a beacon for other women, who had searched online for years for other allegations to no avail. “I kept my eyes open,” Suzanne says, recalling how she stumbled upon the post last year. “My stomach dropped. I should have responded then and not have left her feeling like the only one.… [Not responding] would eat me alive.”

It ended up also being the catalyst for Sarhadi to come forward. Seeing no responses, Sarhadi replied that something had happened with her too. “Once I saw [the post], it was just no question,” Sarhadi explains. “If I hadn’t seen that, I don’t know. I could have gone back and forth on this for another 10 years.”

Soon after the podcast aired, 44-year-old Pittsburgh native Tali Weller says she received an unexpected message about the episode from a childhood friend, who wanted to check that she was doing OK.

It had been more than three decades since a 12-year-old Weller had met a 17-year-old Geever through their local church youth group in 1990. “I have this memory in his car of my first kiss with him,” Weller says. “I was so blinded by trust for him and infatuation, he had me sold to follow his lead.”

Their encounters, which Weller says Geever had instructed her to keep a secret, were split between friendly, chaste exchanges in public and sexual activity in closets, the lofted rehearsal space at his family home, and sleeping bags on overnight church trips. “I remember that I didn’t feel comfortable having sex,” she says. “His answer was anal sex.”

Weller says their sexual encounters lasted for a year and a half, until she was 13. (Rolling Stone has spoken to two family members who confirm Weller told them about the nature of her relationship with Geever within the past 10 years. Rolling Stone also reviewed the message Weller’s friend sent, alerting her to the podcast.)

“I’m still unpacking my sexuality and what was affected by him by this relationship,” Weller explains. “I remember that he instructed me to moan to show him ‘that I was enjoying it.’ It’s so uncomfortable even to talk about now [and how that has shaped] my sexual life still.”

Speaking to the women who claim to have been abused by Geever, many describe feeling isolated in their experiences and trying to reconcile his public persona with his private actions. Each felt they could be the only one. “He comes off as such a kind, loving, supportive, good person,” Elizabeth says. “It’s like Jekyll and Hyde.”

Many of the women who spoke for this article expressed disappointment — if not outright fury — at Geever’s statement. “He made me really angry when I read it,” Stefanie says. “Especially for someone who preaches [what he does]. He’s wearing his feminism shirts and then putting out a statement like that. It’s just kind of insulting to everyone.”

“There’s something in all this that’s so liberating to know I’m not alone.”

Geever’s claim that no one had ever informed him his behavior was violating is a flat-out lie, Mat and Karina allege. Karina claims she confronted Geever in 1999, alleging that he took advantage of her inexperience through manipulation and pressure, and the lasting damage it caused. Geever allegedly “demonstrated sympathy,” she says, and made it “seem like he wanted to do better.” Mat says that after listening to Sarhadi on the podcast, she sent Geever a long message, which Rolling Stone reviewed, detailing how using her for sex and easily discarding her had left her questioning her self-worth. He never responded. Two days later, he posted his statement.

The women, alongside some of the band’s fans, also chastised the other band members for failing to take an immediate hard stance against Geever publicly or even acknowledge the blind eye they may have turned, as three women claim some of the members were present when Geever brought them on tour, backstage, or on the tour bus as teenagers and young women. “They knew how young everybody was,” Rebecca, who dated a then-25-year-old Geever as a 17-year-old in the late 1990s, claims. “There was a clear boundary that he kept crossing over and over that should have raised flags for everybody.”

In a joint statement to Rolling Stone, the other Anti-Flag members say their trust has “wholly been broken” and are “disturbed by the efforts taken to conceal information from us.” “We trusted everyone associated with the band to maintain a safe and respectful environment,” they add. “The understanding that abusers can be anywhere further reinforces the importance of survivors speaking out and sharing their stories.… Further, we feel strongly that all predators must atone for their inappropriate actions and be held accountable.”

The accusations and blatant contradiction of Anti-Flag’s core tenets — proceeds from the compilation album featuring “Feminism Is for Everybody” went to Protect, a nonprofit aimed at combating child abuse and exploitation — have already caused several bands to walk away from Anti-Flag’s label, A-F Records. Artist Sammy Kay, who signed to the label earlier this year, felt the allegation and the band’s lack of transparency left him no choice but to leave. How could he stay “if what they’re preaching onstage and spreading to the world does not align with what [their] day to day is,” Kay says. (The band confirmed to Rolling Stone that they are “in the process of unwinding the label, including returning master rights and physical records/merchandise to the bands, which will take some time to complete properly.”)

Multiple accusers tell Rolling Stone that there’s no single path forward for accountability and rectifying the damage they say Geever has caused over the years. Disbanding isn’t enough, Mat says. Neither is Geever and the band’s statement. “It is important that everyone knows the truth,” she says. “For everyone to know that you are a monster. My father had 15 T-shirts of Anti-Flag. When we talked, I told him, ‘I don’t want to see you wear something by them.’ He just put everything in the trash. I want everyone to act that way.”

Some believe Geever should face the criminal-justice system. Stark says despite police not moving forward with her case, she is still glad she filed the report. “It wasn’t for nothing,” Stark says. “My statement stays in the [police] system forever because of the nature of the accusation. So if another person from the U.K. did ever come forward, my statement is there for corroboration.”

Others are focused on healing and bringing more awareness to the wider punk community about power imbalances and how alleged abusers can thrive in plain sight. “Nobody wants this situation where people are getting out the pitchforks,” Karina says. “What they want is healing and to feel like somebody is being accountable, and someone can hold our pain.”

Many urge Geever to seek help. “The compassionate part of me recognizes that there is some sickness or some trauma,” Weller says. “I like to think that we’re looking forward to a time when Justin at least is not going to hurt other people in the same ways and at best is going to get the help he needs to ultimately come to peace with himself.”

The one glimmer of hope throughout has been the outpouring of support the women have described receiving from the punk-rock scene. It’s been reaffirming that the family and community they craved and sought out were still there for them, despite the alleged actions of a musician whose band they formed around.

Weller says that after hearing Sarhadi’s podcast, she processed her shock with a counselor. “When I was done spitting out words, my counselor had this really great smile and was like, ‘Your life just started,’ in such a knowing way,” Weller says. “I feel like that’s true. There’s something in all this that’s so liberating to know I’m not alone.”

Speaking with others has been therapeutic for the women, including Sarhadi, who has launched ThePunkRockTherapist.org, a place where Geever’s accusers and other survivors within the music industry can connect and receive free therapy sessions.

In April, Geever himself encouraged people to open up about connecting with others going through a traumatic event. “When you put out to people that you’ve gone through something horrible, what you find is [that] you aren’t alone,” he said. “There’s so many other people who’ve gone through something similar. When you start to connect with them and talk with them, that’s when the healing can actually begin.”

The irony is not lost on Sarhadi. “[It’s] another perfect example of him saying the right thing and it being a total scam,” she says. “Maybe we were inspired originally by someone with a microphone. But we’re the ones doing the work every day. We know we have each other’s back.”

 

She’s living her best life on both coasts while holding nothing back. And thanks to her new album, Guts, the 20-year-old superstar has leveled up — with the whole world watching

Oh, my God — look!” Olivia Rodrigo says. “I just parallel parked for you!”

We’re sitting in Rodrigo’s black Range Rover in L.A.’s Highland Park, stopped outside her producer Dan Nigro’s home studio. Rodrigo has a killer late-July outfit on — short, summery floral dress; tall, brown leather boots; her fingers decked out in rings — but she’s pretty bummed about the new pimple between her eyebrows. Accutane, the acne med she’s been on for about six months, makes her lips perpetually dry, so there’s some Burt’s Bees and two travel tubes of Aquaphor jostling around in the cup holder. It’s all pretty typical for a 20-year-old driver, except for the fact that the calendar on her car’s display screen reads “Rolling Stone interview.”

The parallel-parking thing — funny story. Two years ago, on her angst-ridden anthem “Brutal,” Rodrigo blurted out “I’m not cool, and I’m not smart/And I can’t even parallel park” to the tune of more than half a billion streams. “Brutal” was the opening track on 2021’s Sour, the most feverishly anticipated pop debut in years. The album instantly broke the record for the most-streamed female debut in a single week on Spotify, completing Rodrigo’s transformation from Disney teen to one of the biggest, most relatable pop stars on the planet in less than six months. She won three Grammys, performed on SNL, and sang two songs with Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden. (“He’s uncle vibes,” she says.) At Glastonbury, she dedicated Lilly Allen’s “Fuck You” to the Supreme Court after their decision to overturn Roe v. Wade. She even visited the president at the White House in an effort to urge young people to get the Covid-19 vaccine. She’s conquered the parking thing, too, apparently. Now, she just has some other stuff to figure out.

Her top priority right now: overcoming the insane amount of pressure to match Sour — and maybe even top it. Enter Guts. “The beginning was really hard,” she says. “I felt like I couldn’t write a song without thinking about what other people were going to think of it. There were definitely days where I found myself sitting at the piano, excited to write a song, and then cried.”

“There’s so much chaos in your head during second-album time,” says Katy Perry, who faced similar expectations while working on 2010’s Teenage Dream. “You have your whole life to make your first record, and then maybe two years to make your second — while going through a real psychological change as well. Like, ‘Oh, my God, I can buy my mom a car,’ and, ‘Oh, my God, I don’t have to have the stress from my past.’ But it’s a mental jungle out there.”

Perry offered to serve as a mentor to Rodrigo. “The first time I met her,” Perry says, “I put my hands on her shoulders and was like, ‘Listen, I’m here. Whatever you need.’ Because I know exactly what these pop girlies are going through, and when I was growing up, no one really did that for me.”

Nigro, a fortysomething former alt-rocker and Rodrigo’s closest collaborator, also helped ease her anxiety. “Dan was like, ‘You’ve got to go home and rest,’ ” she recalls. The duo would battle what they jokingly called “the dread” with food breaks, usually burgers or Taiwanese — sometimes Taco Bell if they were feeling lazy. “I’ve really eaten good making the record,” she jokes. She’d often visit Nigro’s one-year-old daughter, tasting her baby food (“I’m like, ‘Shit, this is delicious!’ ”) and gifting her with adorable outfits. “She’s the ultimate cure for writer’s block,” Rodrigo says.

Guts is a collection of pop-punk ragers and aching, pensive burners that suggest that after all that multiplatinum heartbreak, Rodrigo is finally having a blast — a wild and free 20-year-old who holds nothing back. “I’ve got sun in my motherfucking pocket, best believe,” she sings on the euphoric “All-American Bitch.” At other moments, like on “Get Him Back!,” she’s scorchingly funny: “He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye/He said he’s six-foot-two and I’m like, ‘Dude, nice try!’”

“Our goal was to make something a little more playful, a record that didn’t take itself so seriously,” says Rodrigo, who knows that most fans viewed Sour as a direct response to her split with her High School Musical: The Musical: The Series co-star Joshua Bassett. “The last album was definitely a breakup record, much to my chagrin,” she says. “I was really trying to make it not that, but that’s what it was. I’m feeling a lot happier these days. Everything’s pretty good. So I wasn’t going to make something super devastating, a record of ballads.”

The artist who captured America’s attention by singing “I’m so sick of 17/Where’s my fucking teenage dream?” is now a fully-fledged adult. She recently became a New Yorker, buying an apartment in Greenwich Village (she may or may not have gotten bedbugs). “Living alone is very frightening,” she notes. “I always get scared someone’s going to come in and murder me, or a ghost is going to come and haunt me.” But she’s still bicoastal, renting a house in Beverly Hills, and hoping to buy a couple of neighborhoods over, in Los Feliz. “I go half and half,” she says of both coasts. “Do I feel like I could ever live full time in New York? I just love car culture. I listen to new music solely in the car. Nothing beats it.”

In February, she’ll turn 21. “The thought of being able to sit down in a bar and talk to people you’ve never met sounds like the best time,” she says. Guts is all about those moments of newfound freedom. “This album encapsulates growing up and figuring yourself out in the world, and the awkwardness of that,” she says. “I feel myself growing leaps and bounds.”

We continue our drive, with Rodrigo admitting she’s prone to getting parking tickets. One time, she even hit Nigro’s neighbor’s car (the owner was nice about it). “It was just a little scratch,” she says. “But I was crying so bad. You know that feeling when your car hits something? It’s like your stomach just sinks out of your ass.”

We wind around succulent-strewn streets and avenues that begin to blur together. “Did I go the right way?” she asks, mainly to herself. “We might go for a joyride.”

NIGRO’S HOME STUDIO sits inside a charcoal-painted house enclosed in hedges, with gravel and ferns guarding the persimmon door. Nigro now lives in Pasadena, but he still records here; it’s where they cut Sour and a portion of Guts (they recorded the rest at Electric Lady in New York). Rodrigo gives me a tour, quickly opening and closing a door that reveals a high chair surrounded by clutter before leading me down the hall. One room contains a drum set and a Yamaha upright piano with a super-Seventies burnt-orange bench. There’s a whiteboard containing Rodrigo’s recording schedule in green marker, with red hearts next to the singles “Vampire” and “Bad Idea Right?”

An additional room serves as the main studio, with a red Persian rug and macramé window cover providing the coziest of vibes. A framed photo of Neil Young’s 1970 classic, After the Gold Rush, hangs in the center of the room, not far from a poster advertising Nigro’s old band, As Tall as Lions, performing at the Troubadour back in 2010. Mini Polaroids are lined up along the wall, featuring visitors ranging from indie singer-songwriter Zella Day to Carole King.

In the corner of the living room, between a fireplace and the sliding glass door to the patio, sits a turntable with stacks of records leaning against it. She flips through them, pausing on Sour — she inscribed her producer’s personal copy with the words “To Dan, suck it!” — and then stopping on Caroline Polachek’s Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, which includes a track produced by Nigro. “She’s such a fucking good live singer,” Rodrigo says, mentioning she saw Polachek at the Greek Theater in 2021.

Rodrigo has thought a lot about Desire, the followup to Polachek’s solo breakthrough, 2019’s Pang; it’s a model for avoiding the sophomore slump. “It’s not a complete reinvention of the first album, but it’s new and fresh,” Rodrigo says. “We didn’t set out to reinvent the wheel.”

She has some other second albums she loves: Coldplay’s A Rush of Blood to the Head, Perry’s Teenage Dream. “She had five Number One hits off of that one album,” she says, calling Perry’s Part of Me one of her favorite music docs. “That album is so iconic and so good.”

There’s a song on Guts titled “Teenage Dream,” but Rodrigo claims it’s a coincidence. “We thought about changing the name,” she admits. “If someone looks up ‘Teenage Dream’ on Spotify, there’s no way in heck that my song’s going to pull up first.”

Either way, her mentor doesn’t mind. “It’s nice to see it resonating through the years to different age groups,” Perry says of the similar titles. “She’s a craftswoman. It’s like when Fleabag really made a huge impression on people. She’s writing about all of our inner thoughts, outward things that we would never say.”

“Teenage Dream,” the final track on Guts, is incredibly different from Perry’s 2010 pop anthem — it begins as a piano dirge but evolves into a cathartic hurricane of rock, as Rodrigo envisions the day she is no longer pop’s brightest, youngest star. Perry sang about never looking back. Rodrigo would prefer not to.

“It’s about a fear of not being a teenager anymore and not having this image of being some type of ingénue or prodigy kid,” she explains. “I grew up in this weird environment where everyone praised me for being talented for my age, and it’s about me facing this pressure of making a sophomore record while also facing this pressure of wondering if people would still think that I was cool even when I wasn’t a 17-year-old girl writing songs anymore.”

Rodrigo is now sitting on a forest-green velvet couch, her boots off to the side, revealing white tube socks with the Parental Advisory label printed on them. Next to us is the studio kitchen, where three bottles of wine sit on the counter. Rodrigo says there were a lot of empty bottles after her album wrap party. “We looked like we were alcoholics,” she jokes.

She sings about partying on Guts in a way she hasn’t before: On “Bad Idea Right?” she declares, “Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months/But I’m out right now and I’m all fucked up”; on “Making the Bed,” she admits, “Sometimes I feel like I don’t wanna be where I am/Getting drunk at a club with my fair-weather friends.”

It’s entirely normal subject matter for someone Rodrigo’s age to sing about, but she was hesitant about including some of those lines on the album. “I was actually so scared to put that out,” she says. “I have a lot of young girl fans, and I’m very conscious of that. But also, it’s real. All of my role models are my role models because they’re unapologetically who they are. I can’t cherry-pick parts of myself to express. And if that’s the worst thing that I’m doing, then I think I’m doing pretty well.”

Some of her core influences are ferociously honest punk and alt-rock records from before she was born. When she was about 14, Rodrigo remembers sleeping with a turntable next to her bed. To wake her up each morning, her mom would drop the needle on Babes in Toyland’s Fontanelle (another excellent second album). Listening to Kat Bjelland’s screams, she’d get dressed and ready for the day. “Rock in that feminine way, that’s just the coolest thing in the world to me,” she says.

Working on Guts, she tried to tap into Babes in Toyland’s raw power, particularly on “All-American Bitch,” whose title Rodrigo found in Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem. Kicking off the album, the song takes aim squarely at anyone who might have heard Sour and dismissed her as a one-dimensional heartbroken teen: “I forgive, and I forget/I know my age, and I act it.”

“I think everyone can relate to being put in a box in some sense,” she explains. “Something I always grappled with, especially when I was younger, is feeling like I couldn’t be angry or express dissatisfaction or complain for fear of being ungrateful. It was drilled into me, and it caused a lot of problems. I had all this anger bubbling up inside me — especially when you’re a teenager and you’re confused and you feel like the world is out to get you and you’re so insecure — and I’d have dreams where I was going crazy. I felt like I could never be like that in real life.”

“All-American Bitch” contains delicate verses and one hell of a raucous chorus, a move that Rodrigo credits to another big, loud Nineties band. “I have been listening to so much Rage Against the Machine this year,” she says. “That’s my favorite band right now. I would just play it over and over again on my way to and from the studio. I want to go to the Rock Hall of Fame so bad because they’re getting inducted.” She’s going to miss the ceremony this fall in Brooklyn, though, due to “some immovable schedule conflict” — a problem that’s positively driving her nuts right now: “I am literally going to cry myself to sleep about it,” she says.

She’s well aware that some of her most devoted fans — a.k.a. Livies — were hoping that after Sour, she’d release an album titled Sweet. “I mean, I suppose maybe if I was madly in love I would’ve written a Sweet album,” she says. “I don’t know. What’s my next one going to be? Umami or something?”

Madly in love or not, it’s easy to wonder how she might feel about the Olivia who made Sour — the one whose career absolutely exploded after releasing “Drivers License” back in January 2021. “I connect to who I used to be, and it makes me sad,” she says. “I’m like, ‘What are you crying about, girl?’ I’m also like, ‘Ha-ha, you don’t even know, it gets so much better.’”

I wonder if Rodrigo she sees herself becoming the type of artist who won’t mind playing her breakout hit for decades to come. “I was thinking about that the other day,” she says. “I saw Stevie Nicks singing ‘Landslide’ to this huge stadium of people. Not that ‘Drivers License’ is ‘Landslide,’ by any means. But I was like, ‘Damn.’ That heartbreak that you feel when you’re young, thinking about singing that song when I’m Stevie Nicks’ age … it’s really powerful.”

RODRIGO LOVES a trip to the psychic. Not, she makes clear, the shitty ones on Hollywood Boulevard, where they tell you that in order to cleanse your dark energy, you need to cough up $5,000. “They aren’t supposed to do that,” she says. “The good ones that I’ve been to have been only really positive. I’ve even been to one that I saw multiple times. I saw her a year apart, and she was like, ‘Yeah, that didn’t go right. And I knew it back then, but I didn’t want to tell you because you were supposed to go through it.’ I was like, ‘Huh. OK. Maybe!’ ”

Several psychics have told Rodrigo she’s going to have twins. “I’ve always been so obsessed with the idea of motherhood,” she says, before turning the tables on me: “Do you think you’re going to have kids? I’m sorry! That’s such a deep question. We just met.”

We’re sitting outside a taco joint on Figueroa Street, and Rodrigo is dipping chips into guacamole and sipping an iced tea. Children and marriage are two of her favorite topics. She even sings about them on the wistful “Love Is Embarrassing”: “I’m planning out my wedding/With some guy I’m never marrying.” “Since I was a kid, I’d pick out a baby name that would go good with their last name,” she says. “That’s how psychotic I am.”

During several moments of our time together, Rodrigo reverses the interview and asks me questions about my upcoming wedding. “One more and I’ll stop peppering you!” she says. She’s eager to discuss wedding songs; she’s been pondering her own for years. Her current options: Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon,” Modern English’s “I Melt With You,” and Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life.” “Literally planning my wedding with you over tacos!” she says.

Rodrigo tears up when I tell her I’m planning on a Bob Dylan song. “His discography is so humongous, I feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface,” she says, though she did name the socially anxious “Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl” after “Ballad of a Thin Man.” Lately, she’s gotten really into Planet Waves and Blood on the Tracks; the latter is her go-to airplane album. “I’ve wanted to write a song [like] ‘If You See Her, Say Hello’ for so long. Legend. He’s so good.”

When our server asks for a photo, Rodrigo politely says she’d prefer to take one when she’s done eating. This is new for her; on a recent trip to Hawaii with her best friend, Madison Hu (her former co-star on the Disney series Bizaardvark), she declined to take any photos at all. “I never want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” she says, “but it was so nice. By not taking a picture, you actually talk to people and get to know them way better. It’s not some transactional vibe.”

Like many children of the internet, Rodrigo has profoundly mixed feelings about social media: She doesn’t know life outside of the apps, yet finds them incredibly burdensome. Especially Instagram, an app that launched when she was seven, on which she now has more than 33 million followers. “I was reading a book that said — I’m going to butcher the number — but our brains are only wired to know 200 people in a clan setting,” she says. “We’re not supposed to know what some pretty girl in Australia is doing at the beach today. Our brains aren’t hard-wired for that information. So I try to take it all with a grain of salt. It does make me feel depressed sometimes.”

Like most pop stars, Rodrigo has a team to help her post on social media (she tries to keep it authentic, because “you can always tell when someone else is doing it”), but that wasn’t the case when she released “Drivers License” in 2021. “I was so overwhelmed by all of the social media shit,” she says. “I truly deleted my social media for six months. Because it was zero to a hundred, baptism by fire. I deleted all of it for a long time, and I’m so happy that I did that at that moment. I have a better handle on it now, but then I was just so cold turkey with it. I’m trying to figure out a happy medium.”

When Rodrigo says “baptism by fire,” she’s referring to the intense public scrutiny that followed “Drivers License” becoming a hit. Listeners of all ages related to the track — just watch that SNL sketch — but they were also obsessed with untangling the drama. By the time Sour came out, millions of adults were deeply invested in a teenage love triangle that allegedly occurred between Rodrigo, Bassett, and fellow Disney actor Sabrina Carpenter.

None of the three have publicly addressed what exactly happened between them, and Rodrigo isn’t about to start. Whether or not Bassett is the guy who listened to “Uptown Girl” with one or more of his co-stars, I’m curious to know how Rodrigo feels about the backlash he faced from strangers on the internet who assumed he left Rodrigo for Carpenter. I bring up an interview he gave last year, where he talked about having a major health crisis as a result.

“I mean, that’s a tricky one,” she says. “I actually, genuinely did not read the article you’re talking about. But, yeah, all that stuff was really crazy. It’s all been handled privately.” She corrects herself: “Handled isn’t the right word, but it’s just not something I like talking about publicly. I take all that stuff seriously, but it happens in privacy. I’m not going to put out a statement. That’s phony. We’re all just people at the end of the day. I deal with it on a person-to-person level that people on Twitter don’t see.”

All the same, the public isn’t going to stop trying to figure out her private life anytime soon. In late June, Rodrigo returned with the supernatural epic “Vampire.” Immediately, fans resumed their sleuthing. This time, though, they suspected the track was about either producer Adam Faze or DJ and influencer Zack Bia, both of whom she was reportedly linked to, and both of whom are older than her — thus the line “Girls your age know better.” Bia could easily be the “cool guy” who only comes out “at night” (he told GQ he’s stayed home just “five or six times” in the past four years). The discourse can be exhausting. Is the song worth another round of public scrutiny?

“I find myself caring less and less,” she says, with Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” blasting on the taco joint’s speakers. “Behind the scenes, I do all of the things I am supposed to do and try to be as prepared as I can. People are going to say what they want to say. I feel like the more you try to control it, the more miserable you are, and the bigger it gets. I just write songs; it’s not my job to interpret them for other people.”

But on a Zoom call with Rodrigo, one month and several interviews with other publications later, she takes a slightly different stance. “I have a really big mouth, and that’s something that I’ve had to learn how to control in this profession,” she says. “But that’s par for the course. I write diaristic songs, so of course everyone’s going to have their own interpretation of it.”

At one point Rodrigo mentions “You’re So Vain,” the Carly Simon song whose target has been a matter of public speculation for more than 50 years. When I finally ask Rodrigo if she was singing about Bia, she takes a moment, exhales, and smiles.

“No comment,” she says.

WE MEET THE following evening at Little Dom’s, a vintage Italian spot that would look more at home in Brooklyn’s Carroll Gardens than the more hip Los Feliz. Rodrigo is wearing a red-plaid babydoll dress she got from Depop, with black loafers and white socks. “We had a good little chat yesterday,” she says. “I feel like we established a lot.”

Unlike yesterday, Rodrigo didn’t snooze her alarm this morning, and made it to Pilates in Beverly Hills, joined by her friend, actress Bailee Madison. “That’s my workout of choice,” she says. “You can’t fuck it up that badly. I love going to the Pilates places where it’s older women. Nothing worse than a scene-y Pilates place where [you] run into people you know. I get so insecure about it.”

As we sit down at the circular booth, she orders a Diet Coke and asks to sit on my left side (she was born half-deaf in her left ear). When I joke that she’s like Jimmy Stewart’s character in It’s a Wonderful Life, she admits she hasn’t seen it. “I don’t know why I cannot see any movie that was made before 1970,” she says. “My brain just doesn’t compute. I’ve always wondered how the old Hollywood accent came to be, like Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. ‘Darling!’ It’s not the way that anybody talks in real life.”

At least in terms of films from the past 53 years, Rodrigo is a total movie buff — she even has a Letterboxd account. She saw two movies last Saturday: Oppenheimer with her dad, followed by 1983’s Valley Girl, starring Nicolas Cage. “It’s his first movie, and he’s oddly so hot,” she says. When I recommend that she see Moonstruck, in which Cage plays an angry, handsome baker with a wooden hand, she makes a note in her phone. “Sounds like a guy I’d fall for,” she says.

Rodrigo was deeply affected by Greta Gerwig’s Barbie, which she brings up several times throughout our days together. “I roll my eyes when people talk about shit like this, but here I am, being that person,” she says. “It’s such a beautiful, wonderful feminist movie. I’m so happy to be a girl. I don’t know the last time that I saw a movie where it was so female-centered in a way that wasn’t sexualized, or about some tormented woman going through some shit. It’s just a beautiful, positive movie about this cool girl.”

When I ask her how she feels about Dua Lipa, who made a cameo in the film, she lights up. “I’m so excited for her next album, I actually can’t wait,” she says, then brings up Lipa’s electrifying performance at the 2021 Grammys, which included two Future Nostalgia tracks and speedy outfit changes. “It’s so fucking good. I remember watching it on the TV and melting on the floor. Killed it. So tight and clean. They must have worked their asses off making that. I literally couldn’t do it.”

Rodrigo would rather be seen as a singer-songwriter than a pop star. When we discuss her idols, she mentions the impact Lorde had on her as a child. “I remember hearing ‘Royals’ on the radio,” she says. “I was like, ‘Wow, you can make a song about anything that you’re feeling.’ It doesn’t have to be this breakup song. She wrote an album about what it was like to be 15 in the suburbs and feeling lost” — a theme that resonated with Rodrigo, who was 10 years old living in the quiet town of Temecula, California, at the time.

But there’s another idol I want to ask about, a glittery elephant in the room: What, if anything, happened between her and Taylor Swift? Early in her music career, Rodrigo was quick to call Swift an inspiration. “I’m just so in awe of her constantly, and I truly would not be the songwriter I am today if I had not grown up being so inspired by everything she does,” she told Ryan Seacrest in March 2021. They exchanged handwritten letters, and Swift gave her a ring similar to one she wore while making Red. Two months later, they met in person at the BRIT Awards.

Things got a little more complicated that summer, when Rodrigo gave Swift and Jack Antonoff two writing credits on Sour: first on “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” (which interpolated Swift’s “New Years Day”) and then “Deja Vu” (which was inspired by Tay’s “Cruel Summer”; Rodrigo also gave a credit to St. Vincent, a co-writer on Swift’s song). Even if it was unclear whether Swift demanded the credits, more obsessive fans were convinced this led to a falling out. They began to see the alleged evidence everywhere: Rodrigo bonding over encountering “mean girls” with Alanis Morissette in this magazine; the 2023 Grammys, where Rodrigo and Swift seemingly had zero interactions; Swift selecting Carpenter, Rodrigo’s supposed archnemesis, to open for her Eras Tour in Latin America. Some self-appointed sleuths even wondered whether Rodrigo masked “Vampire” as a love song, when in reality it was about Swift.

When I ask Rodrigo about the alleged feud, she’s sipping on a bowl of Italian wedding soup. She goes quiet. “I don’t have beef with anyone,” she says calmly. “I’m very chill. I keep to myself. I have my four friends and my mom, and that’s really the only people I talk to, ever. There’s nothing to say.” She adds: “There’s so many Twitter conspiracy theories. I only look at alien-conspiracy theories.”

She maintains this stance when I ask about the Sour co-writes, which, by August 2021, also -included Paramore on “Good 4 U.” “I was a little caught off guard,” she says. “At the time it was very confusing, and I was green and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Is that the phrase?” It’s unclear if Rodrigo was forced to give the credits: “It’s not something that I was super involved in,” she admits. “It was more team-on-team. So, I wouldn’t be the best person to ask.”

I’m curious to know what a more experienced Olivia would do. Would she demand credit from a young artist, or shrug it off, like Elvis Costello did when people noted the similarities between “Brutal” and “Pump It Up”? “I don’t think I would ever personally do that,” she says. “But who’s to say where I’ll be in 20, 30 years. All that I can do is write my songs and focus on what I can control.”

We split spaghetti and meatballs and chicken parmesan, and Rodrigo orders a second Diet Coke before the bill arrives. “Thank you, Daddy Rolling Stone!” she says giddily.

AFTER DINNER, we walk around Los Feliz with Rodrigo’s muscular, tattooed bodyguard a safe distance behind. Having employees tail her isn’t exactly her favorite thing. “I love walking around and being alone,” she says. “People get mad at me for doing it all the time. My managers are like, ‘You can’t do that, you have to have someone with you all the time.’ But I feel safe. Am I safe? No idea. But that’s just not something I’m willing to sacrifice.”

Rodrigo points to a nearby brunch spot. “I went on a bad date here once,” says. This gets her thinking: “I wonder if I’m someone’s worst date. That’s my goal: to wreak so much havoc. Yeah, that’s what I want to do with my life.” We get some ice cream at Jeni’s — Rodrigo chooses honey vanilla bean on a cone — and turn down Franklin Avenue, quoting Bridesmaids. Rodrigo just saw it for a second time, and we exchange lines from the airplane scene back and forth:

“I have this [drink] all the time, and I’m much smaller than you.”

“There’s much more of a sense of community in coach.”

“There’s a colonial woman on the wing!”

For a minute, we attempt to find the Los Feliz murder mansion, from the popular true-crime podcast of that name, but it’s nearly three miles away. Instead, we discuss the Long Island serial killer and the body in a barrel that recently washed up on the Malibu shore, and trade ghost stories our moms told us: Mine woke up in the middle of the night in a Savannah, Georgia, hotel room to find a bride sitting on her bed, while Rodrigo’s once saw a strange man heading down to the basement of the Wisconsin house she grew up in. “Didn’t tell a soul for 10 years,” Rodrigo says of her mom’s experience. “And then my grandma was like, ‘I’m glad we had that house. We got it for so cheap because a guy died in the basement.’”

“Sorry, I’m so morbid lately!” she adds.

She thinks this penchant for darkness probably stems from a love of Harry Potter; like me, Rodrigo was shattered when a Hogwarts acceptance letter didn’t arrive on her 12th birthday. Her love of witchcraft runs deep: In elementary school, she and her friends would “play Harry Potter” after class, filling cauldrons with leaves and water.

Her mother, Jennifer, taught at that school, while her father, Chris, is a therapist. (She says her dad has yet to hear the line about him in “Get Him Back”: “I am my father’s daughter/So maybe I could fix him!”) Rodrigo started home-schooling at 13, when she moved to L.A. to star in Bizaardvark. “Sometimes I feel I have poor social skills because of that upbringing,” she says. “I always felt like I was missing out because I’m an only child and I’m home-schooled.”

The only time Rodrigo was ever starstruck came around that age, when she met Vanessa Hudgens at a movie theater in L.A. “I freaked out,” she says. “She’s Filipino like me, and I remember thinking that was cool.” Even cooler, Rodrigo was later cast as the kid who steps into Hudgens’ role in the show-within-a-show on High School Musical: The Musical: The Series. She continued filming on the Disney show even after Sour; the upcoming third season, which she only recently finished shooting, will be her last.

She recalls being on the High School Musical set the moment “Drivers License” debuted at Number One. She called Nigro from the studio bathroom. “I vividly remember being like, ‘Number One, how cool is that?’” she says. “He was like, ‘Olivia, you don’t get it. Your life is different now.’ ”

She gets it now. But she’s still processing it all — even our conversation from the previous day, when I asked her if, like Stevie Nicks, she sees herself performing her hit at 75. “You really elicited a big crisis in my mind,” she says, chuckling. “But I’ll get back to you. Let’s schedule it in.”

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