Though there are only two distinct periods of my life when I picked up a skateboard and attempted to learn how to ride (2009 and 2021, at 12 and 24 years old, respectively), I’ve always wanted to be a skater. There was some part of skater culture that felt like something I could identify with, the freedom that came with gliding along the concrete schoolyard of Marina Middle School or the pavement of the College Estates suburb of Long Beach, this liberated sensation of no longer feeling confined by the parameters of traffic and city-mandated street ordinances and instead re-evaluating the terrain without prejudice and only as a means of traversal upon this wooden board with four wheels. I also really liked the music associated with it; music made me want to skate more as a means of escapism, and skating made me want to find more music. I’d find bands like The Cry and find out they were heavily associated with skate videos, then subsequently want to find more bands that had that alt rock sound that was simultaneously jangly and distorted, which I felt somehow captured the multitudes of joy, energy, counterculture, rebellion, and escapism that skating embodied. Bands like Pavement and The Smiths and early Radiohead graced my playlists alongside dream pop and shoegaze favorites and 90s alt rock hits from the 90s (Think Smashing Pumpkins “1979” and Cocteau Twins), soundtracking sessions in which I attempted to keep my balance and glide down the streets on my Santa Cruz skateboard, fitted with cloud wheels to smoothen my ride.
This fascinating way that skateboarding can embody such a niche intersect of arts, culture, sports, and media is precisely what makes skate culture wholly unique; there is no other community quite like it, and Jose Vadi’s Chipped understands that to a fundamental and intimate level. In ten memoir-essays, Vadi explores his relationship with skating and how the act in itself and the community at large connect with his own spiritual, musical, and cultural roots. Each essay seems to touch on different aspects of the skate community, as well as different chapters of Vadi’s own skate journey, relaying cultural memories and even informing readers of niche aspects of skate culture. There’s one essay about Sun Ra (and how Vadi insists he’s a skater at heart despite never having seen any evidence he skated) that miraculously connects Ra’s dedicated craftsmanship to the art of jazz and music to Vadi’s own philosophical ideals on skateboarding that I found particularly brilliant, precisely in how deftly Vadi navigates his thesis while displaying a thorough understanding of the art, culture, and sport of it all. Through essays like these, Vadi conveys this idea that skateboarding could never be reduced down to a hobby or toy representing an adolescent angst or phase; it is a mindset that dictates and influences how we mentally and spiritually engage with and make sense of this vastly cultural world.