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putschki1969 · 4 years

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Magic Moment Self Liner Notes

Notes: Finally I had some time to translate these self liner notes. It’s great to get some insight. I always appreciate a song more after having read the thoughts behind it. There is lots of precious content here so please be sure to read it. I recommend you listen to the album while going through this post.

SPECIAL ~ SELF LINER NOTES

Source: https://www.jvcmusic.co.jp/wakana/special/

-- Your 2nd album 『magic moment』 is officially completed. Did you create this work while having an overarching theme in mind?

Yes. Throughout this entire album I wanted to express a “magic moment” - hence the title. This theme first came to life when I released my EP 『Aki no Sakura』 last November and it appeared once again during my live tour in December. Back then when I was just starting to work on my EP my director and I originally came up with “magic hour” as our central motif.

-- “Magic hour” is the time just before sunrise or just after sunset when the sky’s colours are changing from orange to purple and everything is drenched in beautiful light.

Exactly. From then onwards we were tackling the theme of “magic hour”, after all, this kind of transitional moment can be applied to many situations in life. I thought it would be nice if we could turn all moments of life into music.

-- The album seems to overflow with many such “magical moments” of life. Please introduce each song individually.

01. breathing Lyrics: Wakana; Composition / Arrangement: Yumemi Kujira

-- This is the full sized version with lyrics of the instrumental piece "eve" that served as intro for your EP 『Akino Sakura』.

When we were working on the 『Aki no Sakura EP』" we decided to record a full sized version for the album

-- There is a sense of gracefulness and natural vitality.

The song is basically made up of a chorus that is repeated a total of four times but listening to the music written by Yumemi-san many different sceneries are being conveyed, you will notice bird-like sounds in the interludes between the different choruses, you will hear a waterfall flowing, you will feel flowers blooming in profusion. Also, one day the wife of our 1st violinist came to visit us at the recording studio, she is a flutist so we made use of her talent and added some flute to the song. Adding this raw and fresh sound really broadened the world views presented in the music. When I listened to the melody for the first time the movie "Avatar" came to mind. So I let myself be inspired by that film while writing the lyrics. The protagonist of “Avatar” was injured on the battlefield and became paralysed. But when he was syncing with his avatar, he was able to walk again. Watching the scene where he is in sync with his avatar and steps firmly on the ground for the first time always has a great impact on me, I wanted to include this special feeling in my lyrics.

-- The line “土を踏み生きて行く者 | beings who live stepping firmly on the ground” is very reminiscent of that scene.

Yes. With Earth’s gravity most creatures live on the ground, some in the air or in the water. The same goes for birds. All of us are breathing and living here united by our beating hearts. We are living an ordinary life on this earth until some day it is time to say goodbye and go to another place, “楽園へいざゆけ | let’s go to paradise”. “Paradise” is an unknown place, in a sense this lack of knowledge is very harsh. Yet, you dare to set foot into this new world, there are still so many places to discover.

02. Yureru Haru Lyrics: Wakana; Composition / Arrangement: Miki Sakurai

-- Compared to the first song, the tempo is increased considerably. The piano in the beginning is very refreshing.

This song has had a huge impact on me ever since Sakurai-san first sent it to me, I especially love the beginning of the chorus. It conveys a dazzling light, it awakens a sparkling sensation inside of me making me feel like I am looking up at the sun while riding my bicycle. I really wanted to do a warm spring song like that. I also like the change of atmosphere between the cute verses and the rather cool chorus. I wanted to have the hero of this song shout out their emotions during the chorus. There is an image of movement rather than stillness, I wanted it to be powerful.

-- The phrases “駆け出した | you broke into a run” and “君の叫び | your cry” tie back to your intention.

Those words represent impulses, an urge to start running, a cry that can no longer be contained. There is excitement and nervousness. You have a clean canvas in front of you, you can just follow your urges and draw freely. The line in the second chorus “睫毛に触れたのは昨日の自分の欠片 | fragments of yesterday’s me are touching my eyebrows” is supposed to be about tears. When tears are hitting your eyelashes they will linger there for a while, you are releasing fragments of yourself which you have gathered and contained inside of you. There are so many things you have to deal with, all kinds of feelings, you cannot help but cry. Nevertheless, you think it’s best to break free and start running.

-- Before you start running and follow your impulse you are experiencing many feelings. This sentiment comes across well with the use of “sway” in this line of your lyrics - “春の香り揺れてる | swayed by the scent of spring”.

As spring comes you will notice that along with spring’s unique scent your thoughts and feelings are also being swayed. That’s why I didn’t use the words “spring’s scent” but instead I decided on “swayed by the fragrance of spring”.

03.where Lyrics / Composition: AlbatoLuce; Arrangement: Akihito Takahashi

-- This song leaves a strong impression with its speedy acoustic guitar strokes and four-on-the-floor rhythm.

The intro melody with its "oh ~ oh ~" felt very different to anything I had ever sung before, I thought it was nice and a catchy tune. The lyrics are also very meaningful, the messages carried along the words are beautiful.

-- Speaking of meaningful lyrics, I felt like the protagonist of this song is turning into an adult and slowly learning to love all the wounds and scars that have gathered throughout the years, they are finding themselves and a place where they belong.

You can definitely interpret the lyrics like that during certain passages. However, rather than trying to find a story for the whole song, I think it’s more important to look at the individual lines, every single word is meaningful. That's why the song is easy to listen to. In addition, I have never sung a song that’s completely in midrange. I wanted to give it a try.

-- The contrast between the sharp music and your soft whispery singing provides a nice nuance.

While recording I was very conscious of my vocals, I sang with a breathy voice. It almost sounds like I am talking, like a recitative style. I would like to do more research on this approach, there is still a lot to learn.

-- Within your airy singing, there are certain key points that you are emphasising with your voice, it almost feels like an attack. Those words will leap at you and touch your heart. For example, the line “構わない | it doesn’t matter” in the second verse starts with a very powerful note.

I received some direction and advice while singing, it’s meant to feel like an attack. The chorus rhythm was specifically chosen to invoke a sense of charging ahead.

04. 442 Lyrics: Wakana, Airi Okamoto; Composition / Arrangement: Koichi Ikekubo

-- That title makes you really curious.

Apparently the frequency of a baby's first cry is 442 Hz, so that’s what inspired me to choose the title.

-- Interesting! A mid-tempo song with a powerful rhythm. I think it conveys a very passionate and slightly forky atmosphere.

Originally the song had a strong Indian touch

-- Now that you mention it, it really does sound like someone is playing the sitar?

Yes, yes it does! Initially I thought it would be difficult to sing Japanese to this kind of music but Ikekubo-san told me I could do whatever I wanted with the song. We chose an approach that would match a baby’s crying. The lyrics are co-authored. First of all, we discussed what the song could be about, we talked a bit and decided we wanted to make the song about moments when you feel the need to sing and the reasons behind wanting to sing. Then Okamoto-san provided a lyric draft and I felt immediately inspired, the words just kept flowing out of me. Especially worth mentioning is the first chorus line “愛の声が聴こえた | I heard the voice of love” , Okamoto-san came up with that. Inspired by this line, I wrote the following “最後の碧に終わりを告げた時でも | even when the end is announced for the final blue sky”. In a way it feels like the only reason one was born was to listen to the “voice of love”. This singing voice is echoing through your entire body. When we are born our cries are creating the same sound, isn’t that strange? Why is that? While contemplating this one realises that we are all born to do something, our first cry is like a singing voice giving expression to that purpose. We are born for this very thing, it’s like it is our mission, our fate. It’s going to be different for everyone but each of us will be living in order to do and achieve SOMETHING. Which is why our first cry, our first song if you will, sounds the same for all of us.

-- It seems like your own mission and the meaning behind your singing are taking shape through the worldview presented in the line “喜びも哀しみもひとつに繋がって、溢れ出したものが歌である | both sadness and joy are united and overflowing to become a song”.

That final chorus block is very important because that’s where I tried to put all of my thoughts and feelings into the lyrics. This is the point where I have no choice but to convey what I haven't been able to convey at the beginning of the song. That’s why I wrote it like that. As a result, things slowly fall into place while you are listening to the song, at this point everything starts to make sense. That's also the reason I wanted to end the song with just my vocals to bring the point across.

05. Hirari Hirari Lyrics / Composition: Sairenji!; Arrangement: Mine Kushita

It's a heartrending song. The sadness is palpable during certain parts of the melody when I am using falsetto.

-- Yes. It is a beautiful and sad medium-slow track.

It's a song about people who want to meet but cannot meet. There are many reasons for that...Maybe someone leaves and you cannot see them again or you desperately want to see them but lack the courage to approach that person... Lyrics like this which are written by someone else are very refreshing, it’s nice to get a completely different point of view, that also affects my singing style. I wanted this song to sound breathy, I would for everyone to listen to it during a quiet moment.

-- The song starts with just your vocals, from your first breath onwards there is a special depth, your breaths become part of the song. There are only two passages in the first verse where the quality of your voice changes considerably, it’s when you are singing “静けさ | silence” and “優しさ | tenderness”..

Those two phrases are reminiscent of the melody. The word “静けさ | silence” is meant to sound transcient, almost like a hallucination, a nuance that’s barely there and you have to strain your ears to pick it up. I wanted to sing every word clearly, I want everyone to understand my Japanese easily. As with 「where」, it was necessary to change the way my midrange singing sounded. For example, in the second verse there is the line “時が止まったままもう君は... | time has stopped but you...”, it’s all sung with the same note but it serves as melody. When I thought about how to sing those parts I realised that I wanted the melody to guide my singing.

-- Also, there is a beautiful and ephemeral vibration in your singing voice when you sing the line “夕暮れにかすんだ | got hazy within the dusk”.

That's right. I emphasised “kasumu | to become hazy” with a breath . This way it can sound either sexy or slightly scary. I think the word “kasumu” is very beautiful. I also really love the lyrics in the final verse. “たやすく愛と名付けないで | never call love easy”.

-- Is this supposed to emphasise the importance of the feelings that still remain inside of someone despite being separated?

I personally never take the word "love" lightly, it is not just a simple word but in this case the phrase is actually supposed to express the feeling of not wanting to be reduced to a single word by other people.

06. Aki no Sakura (Acoustic ver.) Lyrics: Kei Saito, Yoshitaka Taira; Composition: Kei Saito; Arrangement: Toshio Uchida

-- You recorded an acoustic version of 「Aki no Sakura」, which was the title song of your EP.

I really loved the acoustic arrangement of the song at my December live with the participation of percussionist (Nakakita) Yuko-san. I wanted to include it in the album so we made that happen. The song’s tempo has been decreased slightly compared to the original and it’s just my vocals, the percussion, an acoustic guitar, an accordion and a violin. I know Uchida-san who made the arrangement for this song from my Kalafina days, he played the guitar at Kalafina’s Otadama performances. It was nice to meet him again, it’s thanks to him that the song become warmer and more tragic. There was also someone from Uchida-san's agency who suggested we include some scat singing in the interlude. Combining the sound of the guitar with my scat singing was very refreshing and fun.

-- There is a phrase in the song where you sing, “笑い合ったね | we shared laughter”, the “i” in “warai” felt particularly warm, it’s like we are getting a new look at the lyrics with this version of the song.

Yes, I tried changing the nuance of my falsetto. I performed it live a few times ever since the release of my EP so my understanding of the song has changed quite a bit. This is how new nuances come to life.

07. myself Lyrics / Composition: AlbatoLuce; Arrangement: Yoshifumi Ise

-- A slow number that progresses with main focus on your vocals, the piano and some strings. Your comforting singing voice is very pleasant.

Initially, the arrangement was very heavily focused on the piano, there was a sense of quietness. When I listened to the track for the first time it left a strong impression on me, it reminded me of sublime songs like “Amazing Grace”. I was very adamant about keeping the song tranquil and calm, I didn’t want it to become too dark or too emotional. I used my breath consciously and expressed my lines with a singing voice that’s very close to my speaking voice.

-- This song is mostly low to midrange. The first and second verse are warm and comforting, the chorus on the other hand is very emotional.

The chorus is definitely more powerful than it was in the original version during pre-production. For the pre-production I was using falsetto during the chorus. But once I had decided to speak most of the lyrics, I thought it would be best not to include falsetto. This kind of song is really difficult because every aspect of yourself is laid bare, that was quite the challenge.

-- When confronted with this type of slow song and small ensemble isn’t it necessary for you as a vocalist to provide the rhythm with your singing?

Yes, the most important aspect of my singing was how to create the rhythm. During one recording we used the clicking sound of a metronome to double the tempo. Then, once I had gotten used to the song, I was able to sing without the help of the metronome.

-- In the lyrics you are touching upon the subject of weak hearts, weaknesses we all have in common. You are singing about times when you are not able to reveal your trembling heart. Is this possibly about looking back at one’s own own trajectory, about overcoming such times?

The “You” in the lyrics can be yourself or a specific someone. The song is actually less about overcoming hesitation, fear or weakness and more about learning to live with these things.

-- I see. In the final chorus you are singing “愛してた事 | the fact that I loved you” in past tense, what is the meaning behind that?

I thought about that a lot. We are reborn every day, you loved yourself back then just as much as you love yourself right now. Among all the versions of yourself, there ought to be one that is weak - yet that version of you still deserves love.

08. Kimi Dake no Stage Lyrics: Wakana; Composition / Arrangement: Satoshi Takebe

-- Finally 「Kimi Dake no Stage」 is available on CD, we have only heard it live before!

I have been singing this song live ever since October 2018. The song and lyrics were produced around September of that year. Amazing musicians participated in the recording of this song. In particular, I wanna mention the drummer Kasuke-san (Noriyasu Kawamura), just like me he is a person full of longings. The feeling of being wrapped up by the music is wonderful. I had been singing the song for a long time already so when the band recorded it I felt comfortable going into the vocal booth and singing at the same time. It felt like we were performing live. I had to sing the song all by myself a second time that day but the feeling of being accompanied still remained inside of me.

-- You are using a clear singing voice here.

I had a clear image of the song and while performing live, I experienced so many great things. That’s the reason why I aimed for a clear singing style, I simply wanted to match the clearness of the song.

-- When I read through the lyrics, I felt really drawn into the song from the very first line, “列をはみ出して泳ぐ魚が見えたよ | I saw fish swimming out of line”. It’s very Wakana-like since you love aquariums so much, the message within that phrase is also incredibly strong.

That first part of the song is depicting someone standing in front of a water tank. Imagine a group of sardines swimming in the tank and all of a sudden one of the fish is breaking away and swimming in the other direction. The little fish that chooses a different path stands out. Watching the fish you start wondering what it might see, what it might experience. And now have a human child take the place of this fish. Everyone in the group is at school while a single child is deciding to skip class.

-- It’s not always a clear line, sometimes life is about breaking away even if there is no clear intention behind the action.

It’s not so much about breaking away from everything, rather it’s about taking on challenges so you can try things you want to do. I had that kind of experience when I was a young student, it took a lot of courage, many times I felt very uneasy and frightened but it was also very refreshing. Even now that I have grown up and I am an adult I can still say with certainty that I do not regret my thoughts and decisions from back then. Therefore I think if you want to do something you SHOULD do it, be straightforward and honest with yourself. That doesn’t only apply to teenagers ... You should also live by that philosophy in your 20s and 30s. Even when you are getting older you might feel the urge to break free and do something new. 10 years from now I will surely be in a completely different position having to deal with all kinds of worries. We are all the heroes of our own stories, of our own lives so we need to take responsibility. However, I also included parts about falling in line in the lyrics. For things to go smoothly we can’t just break away all the time, it’s also about cooperating with others in school, at work or in other situations of life.

-- That's why you are also singing about how everyone - strangers and acquaintances alike - is always breaking into a run to do something.

That's right. The second half of the song is about remembering the place where I grew up. I was raised in Fukuoka but back then all I wanted to do was move to Tokyo. Now I love Fukuoka. I guess you don’t realise what you have got until it’s gone. I feel the same way about my family. Back then I was impatient and itching to do something, that's why I want to tell my past self, “it’s okay, I understand if you want to leave.” Even now, all I want is my passion to bring light to my life, I made it this far thanks to my family and my friend, I am here because of them. That’s how I came up with the line “初めて誰かを守りたいと思ったとき自分を愛してくれる人のため今があるんだ | the moment you first want to protect someone you realise that you exist for the sake of those who love you”.

09. Orange Lyrics: Wakana; Composition: Ryota Iwakoshi; Arrangement: Kazunori Fujimoto

-- 「Orange」 was included in your EP 「Aki no Sakura」, it’s now part of your album.

Someone from the A&R division of my record label really loved this song so they suggested I should include it. *laughs* I am also very much in love with the song so their words motivated me to add the song to the tracklist.

-- The positioning of the song in your album is very refreshing. For example, 「Kimi Dake no Stage」 is all about the warm embrace you feel in the place you were born in. That transitions nicely to a sense of nostalgia which is conveyed in 「Orange」.

The tracklist order can strongly influence your perception of a song. When I was a student, I was itching to do something new and came to the city. Now I am living my life here and watching orange sunrises while thinking about [blank]. This “…” part consists of all kinds of crazy feelings, feelings from my past, my present...being able to listen to 「Orange」 on this album makes things more real and brings back all these memories and feelings much more clearly.

-- The lyrics of 「Orange」 and 「Kimi Dake no Stage」 are also somehow connected. The “あなたの笑顔に逢いたいから | I want to meet your smile” sung in 「Orange」 seems to be tied together with the “笑顔を届けられたら | I would like to bring a smile to your face” in 「Kimi Dake no Stage」. The driving force of your singing is conveyed very well.

Yes. If possible I would much rather see smiling faces instead of sad ones!

10. Happy Hello Day Lyrics: Wakana; Composition: Akihiro Kasuga; Arrangement: Shu Kanematsu

-- This song starts with overflowing feelings of gratitude and happiness.

We are celebrating the day of our birth with a “Happy Birthday” song so I thought, “why not write a song that celebrates the day we met?” While listening to the melody I could see myself singing this kind of song in front of my audience. “Thank you, I am glad we were able to meet today”, it’s these feelings I wanted to put into words to make lyrics out of them. The sound of the string quartet is beautiful, and Kanematsu-san piano playing is incredibly smooth. His playing during the recording was super cool, he went wild *laughs*

-- The song picks up momentum during the final chorus with the included clapping, that’s quite quite the grand scale.

That’s Kanematsu-san and my own clapping you hear, all the staff members and my manager also joined in on the clapping *laughs*

-- I think this song will have an even greater scale once you perform it live and the clapping of everyone in the audience will be overlapping. In that sense I believe your feelings will come across well during the chorus when you are singing about “you” and “us” in lines such as “君と逢えた | kimi to aeta” or “手を繋ぐよ | te wo tsunagu yo”.

When I am singing at a live venue in front of a large number of people, it feels like you and me - all of us - are talking together. Of course we each have our own regular lives with our own problems but in that moment all we are doing is enjoy music together That’s why in one chorus I chose “手を繋ぐよ | we are holding hands” and in the final chorus I wrote “手を繋ごう | let’s hold hands”. Thank you for coming to meet me, let’s hold hands! Surely we will be able to meet again in the future and then our hands will be joined once more.

-- Is it that feeling that makes you sing the final chorus with such a more powerful voice?

Yes, it’s crazy how much heart and strength I put into that part. When I sang the line “今生きている | ima ikite iru“ the “ikite” ended up sounding savage *laughs*.

11. magic moment Lyrics: Wakana; Composition: SIRA; Arrangement: Shu Kanematsu

-- The title song is the final track on your album

I asked SIRA to compose a song related to the theme “magic hour,” when I got the song, its temporary title was actually “magic hour”. After I wrote the lyrics for the song, I decided on the current title and simultaneously made it the album title since I felt it best symbolised the essence of the album.

-- The 6/8 time signature of the song makes it sound very grand and magnificent, its evocative nature seems to lead right into the future. I feel like 「magic moment」 being the last track provides a fitting conclusion to the whole album.

I think so too. The song makes you feel like your journey will continue, there’s a sense of embarking on a new journey. In a way it’s closely connected to the first song of the album 「breathing」, it’s nice to have this little call-back.

-- The words you use in 「magic moment」 and 「breathing」 are also connected. The line “高鳴る音さえ | even the throbbing sound” in 「magic moment」 seems to be tied to the “高鳴る胸 | throbbing heart beat” and “鼓動 | pulsation” in 「breathing」.

That's right! Everyone is always saying how they need to take responsibility and that they are gonna be an adult from now on but when are you really an adult? Can you not be an adult and still live your life enjoying yourself? Shouldn't we be allowed to dream? I wrote the lyrics with these feelings in mind *laughs*. It’s like reading a fantasy novel that invites you to explore a foreign world. The rhythm changes during the chorus which gives the song a very mysterious vibe. That's why I thought it would be nice to use frivolous and floating phrases instead of real words

-- Frivolous and floating, what do you mean by that?

A sense of recklessness maybe, not knowing what’s ahead of you but still wanting to continue forward *laughs*, I guess a responsible adult would call it, “to lose your footing and float away”...the lyrical subject of this song just wants to dream.

-- For me both the melody as well as the lyrics convey a strong sense of “human life”. There is a line that says "最後の場所は決めたよ | I know where I will die" and later in the song you mention “何処か遠く | somewhere far away”. This person might not have decided on the road they will be taking but they already have their sights fixed on a specific goal?

The hero of this song doesn’t need guidance or a map. He or she has already found a perfect place for their final sleep. And that place is actually not too far away. However, until that very last moment of your life you want to travel far. One should be living with the goal of wanting to experience one miraculous moment after the other. Life is not about trying to reach that final place, it’s about living your life to the fullest until you reach that place. That’s what this song is about.

#kalafina #wakana #magic moment #self liner notes #my translations

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xiueryn · 5 years

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I'm fukin weak and im also yeah so 10 and 24

ten: “airport/travel au” twenty-four: “soulmate au”

They were listening to the same song again.

It came in snippets, a few phrases softly floating through her head, sometimes getting confused with her own thoughts, but when she concentrated, it was easy to tell that it wasn’t coming from her.

After all, Marinette wasn’t the obsessive type. She didn’t listen to the same song on repeat for however long, not even putting other songs between it.

She shifted in her seat, bringing her legs up and curling them, trying to get more comfortable. There was a few hours left of the flight, and she’d given up on being presentable after the first two.

Especially since the two passengers to her right had been hunched together, talking to each other the whole time.

Marinette turned up the volume of her own music.

At first, she’d been overjoyed the first time she’d heard her soulmate; well, not them, but specifically what they were listening to at the time. It was a weird system, something that assured her that she had someone out there that would understand her fully—whether their relationship was platonic or not—but it would be a lie if she said it wasn’t annoying.

Like when she was trying to concentrate on her exam, and all she could focus on was the annoying chorus that was running around in her head.

They didn’t have any way to communicate.

There had been stories of soulmates trying to talk through choosing specific songs, but the small sections that filtered through to the other weren’t able to be chosen. It was dumb luck which went through.

And so, most didn’t meet.

It was a bit hard writing a forum post, searching for one specific song that had come on the radio, when thousands of people had been listening to the same one at the exact time.

No one could really know for sure, not unless they had lots of coincidences that added up in the end.

Marinette wasn’t holding out for the hope that she’d meet them.

With her headphones on, Marinette had been occupying herself by playing a video game, but she’d already completed it before. She lasted about half an hour before tucking the device back into her bag, tapping her fingers against her thigh instead.

They were still listening to the same song.

Marinette had had her playlist on shuffle for the whole time.

She got it, really; sometimes she got fixated on certain television shows, binged them all the way through, but that never inconvenienced them because of her interest.

It made her wonder whether they thought about her at all.

Then again, if they did, it was only a few sentences that floated through, wasn’t it? It was hardly an unending loop that continued to sound in her head, driving her mad; rather, it was the fact that she knew that it was the same song due to always hearing it play at work.

She really hoped they got through it soon.

When her head started to hurt a bit, she slipped her headphones off, resting them around her neck as she leaned back, staring up at the storage above her.

The two beside her were still talking, laughing quietly together.

The friend she was travelling with was nowhere near her, sadly.

Marinette closed her eyes for a bit, curling into herself on the seat. Most of the passengers were quiet, not talking loudly, and the children were asleep so they weren’t screeching or wailing.

However, the noise that she managed to notice out of all the others was music.

Of course.

She opened her bleary eyes, not quite believing her luck.

Someone in the row in front of her was listening to the very song that her soulmate had been jamming to for so long. And to make matters worse, their headphones were loud enough that she could clearly hear the beat, but was only able to make out a few words.

She didn’t have to try hard to remember all of the words to the song.

She kind of hated that.

Then, to make matters worse, the song continued. It couldn’t have possibly been that long—not even when she was sat there, listening to it second-hand and wishing for it to be done—so that meant that they, too, had it on repeat.

She almost laughed.

Marinette put her headphones back on, but she didn’t play any music.

It couldn’t drown out all the noises, but it did a little bit.

It was good enough.

She shuffled in her seat, resting her head against the wall, still making sure she wasn’t going over her small section and inconveniencing her seat-mate. Marinette closed her eyes, trying to even her breathing as she focused on her thoughts instead of that specific song—

The start of a verse flickered through her head.

She hated that she knew that it was in time with the one she was trying to drown out.

It wasn’t her place to say something to them. She didn’t have the power to ask someone not to listen to their music in peace, but once ten minutes had definitely passed—confirmed by her phone—she felt restless.

One of the passengers in the row in front of her had to stand up and go to the toilet, confirming that it wasn’t them, the one in the middle.

That meant it was only the person by the window, then.

She could’ve waited until they went to the toilet themselves, but that—that would’ve been a bit weird, wouldn’t it? If that had happened to her, she would’ve been mortified.

Marinette gathered up the courage to lean forward towards the crack in the chairs, calling out, “Excuse me?”

There was no answer because of the music.

She could’ve been annoying and kicked their seat instead, but that was just plain rude.

Pushing her luck, she reached out and tapped their shoulder.

The face that turned towards her was utterly bewildered. For a moment, he just stared at her before he reached up and removed his headphones, letting them fall down to his shoulders to match her. “I—what?”

“Hi,” Marinette said, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

He leaned to see her more clearly through the gap. “Can I help you?”

Her voice was a little bit higher than normal. “This—this is a pretty weird request, but could you—I don’t know, maybe, turn your music down?”

Rather than the rude response that she’d expected, he frowned, picking up his phone and staring at the screen. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was that loud.”

Surprised, all she could say was, “A bit.”

“Sorry,” he apologised, not seeming to be annoyed by the interaction at all as he turned the music off. “That was—that had to be annoying, right? I had no idea.”

Marinette tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “It’s okay, really.”

“If it was, you wouldn’t have spoken to me at all,” he pointed out. “If I do it again, you’re—you’re welcome to kick my seat, yeah?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

“I mean, I did just give you permission,” he replied, grinning. “When else is that opportunity going to pop up?”

With her own shy smile, she answered back, “Never, I hope.”

“Too nice for kicking, but not tapping someone’s shoulder?” he asked. “What if I’d screamed? It was quite scary.”

“Scary?”

His smile showed his white teeth. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you freak out if someone suddenly touched you? That’s in my top ten fears, for sure.”

Marinette swallowed. “I wasn’t trying—”

“It was a joke,” he interjected, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “A bad one, I admit. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I didn’t realise the mood was bad,” she lamely replied.

He laughed. “Not on my end, but you do look like you’re close to crying.”

“That’s my normal look,” Marinette said. “It’s like resting bitch-face, but worse.”

He nodded his head, seeming to agree. “That sounds like quite the dilemma.”

The passenger that had left for the toilet came back, meaning that the guy waved at her before turning around in his seat, putting his headphones back on. The tell-tale noise of music came a few seconds later, but it was barely audible, not at all like before.

Marinette settled down again.

For a while, she managed to fall asleep. But she was never good at sleeping in public places, startling herself awake and sighing when she realised that not much time had passed.

There was still an hour left for the flight.

At one point, she stretched her legs out, hearing her knees click, and as she raised her arms above her head, closing her eyes as she did so, she accidentally kicked the chair in front of her.

She felt a flush of embarrassment immediately as she saw that he’d started to lean to the side, peeking through the chairs at her.

“Too loud?” he questioned.

Marinette smoothed out her hair. “I was just—I was stretching. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

He hummed. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she insisted. “Your music’s not bothering me.”

“That’s good,” he said, smiling. “Because it’s kind of turned off right now.”

Her face felt hot. “Sorry.”

And to her horror, the person next to him offered to swap seats if they wanted to continue talking.

“I—no, no,” Marinette denied, hastily shaking her head, moving her hands along with her words. “We’ll stop, I’m sorry.”

Their tone wasn’t rude, they weren’t saying it to get them to be quiet; rather, it was a kind-hearted gesture, and it was made even worse when they offered again, going as far as to stand up.

Marinette felt too awkward to say no.

And so, she got her bag off of the floor, her headphones still around her neck, and she slipped past the talking couple to her side—one of which flashed her a polite smile on her way past—waiting in the aisle for the other to take her place.

She just wanted it to be over by the time she sat down.

The guy flashed her a sympathetic smile. “You still kind of look like you’re going to cry.”

Marinette’s didn’t reach her eyes. “That sounds about right.”

“Sorry for getting you into this.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered back.

He pointed to his headphones. “I had my music too loud.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really a good reason,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair, trying to be less stiff. “It was just—I did it for a dumb reason.”

“Try me,” he coaxed.

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, that’s true,” he mused. Then, he held a hand out to her. “I’m Adrien.”

She shook it. “Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he repeated, nodding. “Now, any chance you’re going to tell me what annoyed you so much, you had to scare me so?”

She exclaimed, “I didn’t scare you!”

“I was terrified,” Adrien announced, dramatically putting the back of his hand on his forehead. “My heart just about leapt out of my chest.”

“You sound like a heroine from a shitty romance novel,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

When he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “My romance would be wonderful, don’t be mean.”

“It would be the equivalent of playing the same song on repeat.”

The best way to describe his smile was sheepish. “Oh, you could tell?”

“Yes, I could,” she confirmed. “Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered me—I mean, it’s your music, but my soulmate is doing the exact same thing, and it’s honestly driving me mad.”

He sucked in a breath. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered. “Sorry for taking it out on you.”

Adrien just shook his head. “No, don’t be. I get it. I’d do that, too, if I couldn’t escape from it.”

“I take it yours isn’t that bad?” Marinette enquired.

It wasn’t that it was considered rude to ask—just that if the topic came up out of nowhere, people tended to get uncomfortable. But Marinette assumed from him continuing the conversation, he was okay with it.

“They listen to a lot of different things,” Adrien revealed. “Sometimes, I’m not sure whether it’s actually their choice, or what’s just playing on the radio.”

“Are they that drastically different?” she asked.

“Not really,” he answered. “Just the timing of them? Like, during the day, I’ll hear popular songs, but only a few in the evening. I have to try and look them up sometimes, but it’s hard when you only have a random quote to go by.”

With a grin, she remarked, “Smart.”

“I try.” His dimples showed as he smiled. “So, how long have you had to put up with listening to that one song?”

“Over an hour today,” Marinette said, sagging back against her seat. “I don’t know how any of you do it. I can barely listen to the same more than twice before I get bored.”

He laughed. “It’s just how I am, I guess.”

“Well, you suck.” Then, when she realised what she’d said, she smiled sheepishly. “I mean, your personality—wait, no. I’m really not trying to insult you here, honest.”

It just made him laugh more, shoulders shaking, but barely any noise escaping him. “I’m sure.”

She pushed her hair away from her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Adrien replied. “This is way more fun than just listening to the same song. Maybe you’re right, I do need to spice my life up more.”

“I literally never said that,” Marinette denied.

He waved a hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.”

“You must not be very good at reading, then,” she mused.

His expression of shock was exaggerated. “I feel like you’re here just to insult me!”

“No, no,” Marinette assured him, trying to contain her laughter. “I’m just—I don’t know, bored? I didn’t really think this flight through.”

“You going on holiday?” he asked, his body language showing that he was actually interested in the answer.

She shook her head. “Going back home.”

“Oh, opposite for me,” Adrien replied. “Well, kind of? I’m visiting my parents, so it’s up to you how that’s interpreted.”

“I don’t think we have enough time to discuss parental issues, so let’s say holiday,” she joked. “Where abouts are you going?”

Then, to her surprise, he said the same place as her.

“I live there!” Marinette exclaimed, sitting up a bit straighter, body angled towards him. “That’s—that’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Adrien beamed. “I guess.”

“Did you used to live there, with them?” she asked.

“No, they moved there last year,” he explained. “It’s my first time visiting, actually. It took ages for me to get time off from work.”

Marinette nodded her head, understanding. “If you haven’t looked anything up already, I’d be happy to give you some recommendations.”

And so, she did. Adrien was more than intrigued, asking her all sorts of questions, and she was happy to comply. It turned out that his parents had moved a few minutes from where she’d grown up, so it wasn’t likely that the area had changed that much in a few years that she’d been away.

His enthusiasm was a good way to pass the time.

Their headphones were still around their shoulders, but they were too busy talking in hushed tones, trying not to disturb the other passengers. At times, she had to cover her mouth when she laughed.

Her cheeks started to hurt from smiling after a while.

Adrien was in much the same position, and his laughter came out as wheezes at one point, which only made her own laughter worse.

It wasn’t boring at all.

Marinette almost forgot that her friend was across the plane at one point, up until Adrien asked why she was flying alone.

Then, to her surprise when they were close to landing—which she hadn’t expected at all, time having passed quickly—Adrien asked her, “Can I get your number?”

She blinked. “Really?”

“You’ll be in the area, right?” He grinned. “If you want to meet up, that is.”

It wasn’t a lie as she replied, “I’d love to.”

His number was added to her contact list, along with a poor quality picture of him. Marinette laughed as he did the same for her, along with an emoji next to her name.

“I guess this is it,” Marinette mused when they’d landed, the two of them standing up to collect their things. “For now.”

With a smiled, he repeated, “For now.”

Adrien waved at her as they parted ways.

After, when she was collecting her luggage with her friend at her side, she saw Adrien again, standing to the side with his headphones on. Then, when he looked up and saw her, he happily waved at her again.

She laughed and waved right back.

And as her friend questioned who he was, a familiar line of a song from her soulmate ran through her head.

She wondered whether Adrien was still listening to the same song.

pick two prompts from here and i’ll write a small(?) adrien/mari drabble for it

#replies #anonymous #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #drabble

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d00dt00nz · 4 years

Video

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Obligatory promo stuff at the top because it sucks and I hate it and let’s get it out of the way! follow me on twitter where I’m active, check me out on spotify for music, or like my facebook for sparse updates on music stuff. Thank you. The Cover art is by Ellie Tison

Okay!! Last song!!

Well, I say last song, but it's more like “last song”. There is one more song that I used as an epilogue, but I'm not going to get into that, and honestly if you've listened to 13 tracks without being sold (why would you do that?) one more track isn't going to sell you on it.

And would you look at that, the last song is a reprise of the first song. Wow, it's like Sgt Pepper... that's so cool. Now it makes sense why I didn't bother talking about that first song right? Not planned btw.

This song was one of the first songs I wrote for this album. I said this for a few. Truthfully I did four or so around the same time and they were all great. I had a few more tracks in the oven as well. Everything was going great. I was like “wow this album's gonna be done in no time!” Anyway that was like three or four years ago. I guess that's how these things tend to go.

This is back when I was trying to make a bit more of a straight ahead rock/indie rock sounding album. I'm pretty sure I wrote this song on guitar, lyrics and all, which is honestly (and sadly) pretty rare for me these days. I had this idea for repeated backing vocals and a call/response sort of song structure. I'm pretty sure this more energetic version of the song came first. I originally wanted a sort of Lou Reed feel to it, but once I wrote that groovy dancy bass riff it immediately lost that feel. Once I started recording electric guitars I accidentally did a grungy “brrroww” at the end of the phrase and really liked it. I replicated it throughout the track and in turn lost even more of that Lou Reed feel.

In my original recording process I had a damaged patchcord. I didn't realize it at first because I was trying out some new equipment. I just thought it was really quiet. That being the case, I had to turn it up way loud to get a good volume and that's actually where some of the guitar tone you can hear (mainly in the one playing a melody-line during the chorus) comes from. I actually really liked it, I thought it sounded like Pavement. Actually, my Tiff did too and that's probably the nicest thing she's ever said about any of my music.

At some point I added more guitar tracks to the track to make it sound fuller, and also replace some of the ones recorded with a broken patchcord. I honestly kinda liked the original tracks, which still had a little bit of that 70s glam grittiness to them, but I'm far too neurotic about this stuff to really sit with that. In the end it sounded less 70s and more mid 90s. It had a sound that I've actually been trying to get for a while, though not on this track – the sort of fuzzy swirling guitars with a groovy beat and bassline to it. Tiff described it as being “Like those music videos where everything is blue and everyone's got really baggy pants”, which, again, big compliment. I don't know if that one was actually a compliment, but I'll take what I can get.

The song had its genesis at that same party I mentioned last time. There's nothing specific really. We had my album on and it's got a pretty fun cool first half. The people there were enjoying it, but then it gets to the second half and it's a little bit more mopey. It's also completely sexless and uncool throughout. That being the case, one of the guys there was like

“Sorry Con-dog, the vibes are just not working with this right now,”

and I was like,

“Oh don't worry about it, I understand dude,”

And then he was like, “Right on man. I’m getting fucked vibes from those guys over there. Here, hit this for me.”

And then I did some coke off a Pulp Fiction VHS tape.

I thought to myself, “man it'd be nice to have music that you could put on at a party”. Which basically was the whole idea behind this album, conscious or not. I don't really know if it succeeded, but there's definitely a certain kind of party where this would play, and honestly I don't think I'd mind being at it.

The album was originally going to be more centered around the idea of the character described in this track. I mean, obviously he's me, but I'm trying to detach myself and make things a little more universal. I wanted to explore all the different traits and behaviors that this one person has. Some of them being mine, and some of them being not. Honestly, it didn't really pull through to the end. There's a little bit of that in here, but it's mostly just songs. I'm okay with that. They have some thematic cohesion. It's got this song bookending the album. Wow, it's like Sgt. Pepper.....

The ending is a little bit embarrassing for me because I do a bit of a scream voice, which, honestly I don't think there's anything actively wrong with it, I just cringe when I hear myself doing it because it's like “ah oh god I'm doing that”. I don't know. There's also the fact that, well, one of the things I yell is the word “Wasteman”, which is a little bit of an outdated slang right now, but when I actually recorded the song it wasn't. Whatever, this is an insanely white album from a white kid. I figure a lot of people who enjoy this type of music haven't actually heard that word. I wouldn't have, but I hang out with Tiff's cool friends sometimes. Honestly I think it's a cool term. I think the most embarrassing part though is I copy-pasted it so it repeats twice because I felt like I wanted more intensity. I don't think it's super noticeable, but the idea makes it a little disingenuous. During the outro I wanted to add a little more of that “90s blue and baggy” feel, so I plugged in a keyboard and freaked out on the organ setting. I think it really adds a lot.

The slower version of the song was written afterwards and I actually cheat because it uses some of the same midi tracks. I was super torn between the more exciting sound that I had and my original “vision” for the song, which was a bit more downtempo Lou-Reed inspired. I figured, why not do both?

There's not a whole lot to cover here that I haven't already covered. Mostly the backing vocals, but only because I think I did a worse job with them than the other version. There's nothing outwardly wrong with them per-se, but I think the blend is not good and that's gonna immediately stick out to some people. The middle section just kinda came about because the other version doesn't really have a proper chorus. It just has some guitar noodling. I played around with the chord progression of the middle chorus in the fast version and made something that was a bit more structured, then adapted a melody around it. Harmonies grew out of the melody. I felt like something was missing, so I took that same call and response idea from earlier and applied it here too. I really liked the interplay between the two vocal lines. The “Purify me” line was originally supposed to come up again and again throughout the album. One of the tracks that ALMOST made it would have been the song it was from, and then there would be callbacks to the melody throughout the album. It was kind of like a motif. That was unfortunately completely scrapped and this is the last trace of it. Maybe I'll work the idea into something I do in the future.

I like this song. I realized way too late that it massively rips off The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane. I guess that “Lou Reed inspired” idea was a little bit too literal. Fortunately I would say the middle section saves it from being too much of a copy. I think it's a good way to start and finish the album. I also like the thematic notions of this album starting with the same track it ends on. Like these things work in cycles and you're never truly free of your own quicksand. Like an Ouroboros eating its own tail, like Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. When one cycle ends, a new begins. The same, but slightly different – until it is completely undermined by the epilogue track that says “no this is actually the end”.

Hey congrats on making it through all of these entries! You may have only read this one, or even skipped to the end. If you did that, disregard that previous sentence and go back to read them. This album was the culmination of a lot of work and thought. 13 of these writeups was nothing compared to probably hundreds of hours spent working on this album, and probably thousands of hours thinking about it. I'm aware few people are reading these writeups, but it's honestly mostly my own indulgence. I gotta decompress this stuff and be free of this album. I can finally get rid of all this useless crap in my brain. I'll probably enjoy being able to go back and read this stuff once I've forgotten most of this, and once I've become a more mature person. I'll probably go “wow this shit is cringe. I can't believe he posted like 22 pages of cringe” but that's okay. The album's okay. I made for certain it was not, in fact, cringe before releasing it. And honestly I enjoyed writing these.

A part of me wants to get back to the freakish pace I had in like 2011 where this blog was nonstop content. I don't think it'd work so well in 2020 Tumblr because who even uses this site anymore? I think it's a little sad because it's pretty much the death of long form posting. Twitter is great because people pay attention to you, but sometimes I just want to write like two thousand words and have some psycho actually read them and respond to it. I think we've lost that on the internet. Sometimes I think of making youtube videos, but I'm no good in front of a camera. Sometimes I wonder, couldn't I just read something like this TO the camera? The answer is no, I can't. That'd be boring. I'm completely convinced nobody would watch that. I sometimes think that if I could add some editing and some visual component though, it'd work out. Some sort of... video essay. Some kind of... man with facial hair and left leaning politics who enjoys media and talks about both... Wow I wonder if that niche has been filled at all?

#music #songwriting #rant #music production #lou reed #pavement #indie rock #the fact that there's an epilogue that ruins the concept is also like sgt pepper

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thesinglesjukebox · 4 years

Video

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FULL TAC FT. LIL MARIKO - WHERE'S MY JUUL??

[6.11]

Do we choose rule, or do we choose suck?

Alex Clifton: Juuls. Juuls. Juuls. Oh my god, Juuls. [7]

Katie Gill: It's a little bit telling how all the comments on the YouTube video are comparing this song to other meme songs and not talking about the merits of the song itself. Still, there will always be a place in the world for meme songs that are serviceable memes but less than serviceable songs that teenagers can obnoxiously quote on the bus. "Where's My Juul" fits that niche perfectly. I expect a fleet of TikToks featuring people lip-syncing to this and will be very disappointed when this inevitably doesn't happen because I am out of touch with the youth. [6]

Kalani Leblanc: I can see there's already an abundance of blurbs submitted for this song, and the number will have risen by the time I finish this. After thinking so hard about how to go about being the fifteenth person to say "It sounds like "Shoes"," I'm realizing it's not really "Shoes" anyway. While they're both jokes that bear a resemblance in the thrash of a breakdown, "Where's My Juul??" is also listenable. The comparison is getting tired because it's like did anyone listen to "Shoes"? As a song? In earnest??? While this is not an entirely impressive piece, no concerto or FKA Twigs production, it's enough. Since 2006, we've been making everything into jokes, so it makes perfect sense. Nicotine-induced freakouts would've been the subject of an after school special ten years ago, but now they're joke material for hypebeasts and others on Twitter. Lil Mariko makes an impressive case while trying to find her Juul; I can't find anything this song did wrong, sorry. [8]

Will Adams: The mid-song 0-to-11 ramp is what takes this past the mean-spiritedness of "#Selfie" and the meme-spiritedness of "Phone" into effortless "Shoes"/"Let Me Borrow That Top" absurdity. The Juul is a placeholder; sub in any other monosyllabic cultural artifact, and Lil Mariko's rage against Full Tac's electroclash-y beat would cut through just as effectively. "Sorry, guys!" she says at the end, except there's nothing to apologize for. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I wrote 20 pages about Juul culture in 2018 so I should in theory be the exact target audience for this. Yet "Where's My Juul??" doesn't really click for me. It's charming and funny in parts (Lil Mariko's spoken verses, which transmit nervy anxiety and barely restrained fury effectively) but the hook, which takes up most of the very long minute-forty-five, is comedy via brute force principles: repeat a phrase enough and it will transfigure into a joke. [5]

Brad Shoup: About as funny as the related TikTok meme, though not as menacing, surprisingly. I wish so badly that Full Tac had gone full hardcore -- or even brostep! -- but am glad that Lil Mariko's Danny Brownian ad-libs and sudden reversals grind "#SELFIE" into the dirt. [7]

Oliver Maier: I need not catalogue the myriad ways in which this is transparently designed to blast off on TikTok -- you would probably know better than me -- but that cynicism detracts from "Where's My Juul??" for me. There's none of the spontaneity or sense of genuine fun that animates certain other genre-agnostic, threat-spewing, extremely online weirdo duos, more savvy than it is genuinely silly. It's not badly executed, but I felt like I got the picture before even hitting play. [4]

Will Rivitz: I get this is supposed to be more meme than song, but I so wish it had leaned into the latter for more than half its runtime. The "FUCK!!!" at the beginning of its second chorus is worth at least a [7] on its own, and its redlining nu-metal production is such a tight fusion of XXXTENTACION's sonic fingerprint and simplified TikTok trap that I'm surprised the "oh my God" ad-libs aren't followed by a "Ronny." As it stands, "Where's My Juul??" and its just-a-little-too-long interludes that grate after listen number four or so functions as a sort of "Thrift Shop" for the current day, a track defined by its novelty that we as an Internet music-Twitter hivemind all agree was genuinely good about five years after it's exited the public consciousness. It deserves more. [8]

Ian Mathers: Both less musically compelling and with less of a point than "Can I Get a Box?". [5]

Katherine St Asaph: It's kind of amazing how it took seven years for Rebecca Martinson to release her debut. [1]

Nortey Dowuona: Lil Mariko is actually kinda weird in the lol so random funny way that people think that [insert overrated white comic who had a Comedy Central show] is and has a really great metal screaming voice. I don't know who made this dull approximation of Kenny Beats and Pi'erre Bourne, nor do I care. Lil Mariko will hopefully get a recurring cameo role on Nora From Queens and get her own show from that. [5]

Mo Kim: The best joke here is the escalation of nonchalance (hey, where's my Juul?) into something desperate, and therefore dangerous: it hits like the drop in a rollercoaster when Lil Mariko finally breaks out the deep-throated metal screams, but the moment wouldn't have half the thrill without the masterful way she gradually ups the heat on the song's first chorus before that. Both of her spoken monologues, where she merges Valley Girl affect with murderous menace, only sweeten the deal. [8]

Ryo Miyauchi: "Where's My Juul??" gets spiked with an infectious dose of adrenaline when it suddenly turns a lot more aggro than you'd expect from a meme-y cross-section of Rico Nasty's mosh-pop and PC Music's ironic bubblegum. The demented beat stings with a pungent metallic sourness, and while her Valley Girl accent scans as an obvious put-on, Lil Mariko's blood-curdling scream is legitimately hair-raising. The song rapidly combusts, ensuring the joke doesn't overstay its welcome. [7]

Joshua Lu: Yes, hearing the unassuming Lil Mariko scream and snarl over a missing Juul is intrinsically funny, especially accompanied by a music video that knows exactly how to push the limits of its concept. But the real strength of "Where's My Juul??" lies in its sheer relatability. The title could be anything -- where's my wallet, my phone, my eraser -- because anyone who has ever misplaced anything can relate to the escalating panic and rage in not only the cataclysmic vocals, but also Full Tac's discordant production. Also crucial to the song is its sense of plot, as it steadily progresses from confusion to blame to outright violence. The ending, though predictable (Lizzo used the exact same twist not that long ago), is a necessary denouement, as it provides the moment where everyone involved can look back on the last minute and a half of chaos and laugh. [8]

Iain Mew: As a song structure trick, I love the fake-out final verse, those ones that seem like something slowly developing before the artist brutally cuts it off for the chorus or instrumental to come back stronger than ever; the "Don't Speak" and "Your Best American Girl" kind of thing. The key moment of "Where's My Juul??" comes in taking that same trick to a ludicrous, brilliant extreme. It has a drawn-out, jittery verse, a cartoon scowl of a chorus, and then one question into verse two it veers straight into swearing, screaming and fucking everything up. That's perfect enough that it would ideally be even shorter than it ends up. [7]

Kylo Nocom: Full Tac and Lil Mariko do in less than two minutes what took Justice five. The gimmick is the least fun part, and judging by my sample size of BigKlit's "Liar" and Full Tac's very own "CHOP" the producers behind this might not even be as funny as this video would imply. But I've long settled with music that's good on the merits of just being fun; when the production here is layered with discordant guitar sampling, analog drum kits, and distant screams of "piss!" and "fuck," I'm willing to buy into the ugliness. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Full Tac returns with another take on "Liar," succeeding because the goofy conceit here finds an appropriately goofy (that is, unexpected) vocal performance. Part of the appeal is how "Where's My Juul??" could sit comfortably alongside songs from Rico Nasty and Rina Sawayama, but has the appeal of shoddy viral videos from yesteryear. It's that "Kombucha Girl"-type reaction it's striving to elicit, and it accomplishes that as soon as the screaming starts. The best detail, though, is the most subtle: the moment Lil Mariko stops herself from saying "who" and politely asks "have you seen it?" [7]

Michael Hong: Have you ever been dragged to a party only for your only friend to disappear, leaving you to mingle with a group of people you don't know? And one person makes a comment so absurd that you just giggle along with the rest of the group even though you're not really sure if they're layering their statement with even a hint of irony or if there's something much more unsettling lurking underneath? But the jokes are getting more and more uncomfortable and suddenly fewer people are laughing along, instead furtively glancing across each other with an exasperated look as if to say "is this person for real?" And instead of backing away, that person instead starts doubling down, getting more and more aggressive, screaming across the room for what feels like hours and surely people must be ready to head out. Instead, when you finally catch a moment to glance down at your phone, you find that only two minutes have elapsed since you arrived and you realize that not even a quarter of the time has passed before your ride will come and you can leave this godforsaken party. You have absolutely no choice but to continue standing in the group in discomfort, waiting for this moment that feels like an eternity to finally finish, with the only background noise being the stereos blaring what sounds like someone's first attempt at using GarageBand. [0]

Crystal Leww: While I was digging through "likes" on SoundCloud, I noticed that a friend of mine had liked "Baby Let Me Know" by Full Tac, which sounds like the synth heavy dreamy pop that was popular at the beginning of last decade. I did not stick around for "Where's My Juul??" so imagine my surprise today when I turned this on and it's umm, screaming. A consistent genre as an essential part of an up-and-coming artist's brand is less essential than ever, especially in an age where (waves hands) dance music has eaten itself alive in its swirling storm of troll energy. Chaos in and of itself is a brand -- from 100 gecs to Alice Longyu Gao's dueling sister tracks "Rich Bitch Juice"/"Dumb Bitch Juice" to any DJ Bus Replacement Service set, it has fully infiltrated dance music. How this goes from sweetly threatening to full-on psychotic and back to cutely apologetic is chaotic so yes, I think Full Tac could make some noise (both in creating a fanbase and also like literally) with this. [8]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]

#Full Tac #Lil Mariko #pop #meme #music #music review

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penguin-writes-books · 5 years

Text

That Damned Universe - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

AO3

Cyrus was exhausted. Madame Aguillard had kept them 15 minutes after class ended to discuss in alarming detail all of the accents in the French language. She spent thirteen minutes talking about their various effects on a word and, later on, their origins and applications. As he dropped into his seat in third period science, panting slightly, he suddenly understood the practicality of the preposterous amount of time between his classes. He pulled his science textbook from his bag just as Mr. Stilen stood up from his desk at the back of the room. He strolled across the classroom towards the front, greeting his students brightly. "How was everybody's first day?" he asked, and was answered with a chorus of groans as the students recalled the level of work they'd been assigned the day before. "Oh, don't be so glum. Wait until at least 11th grade to lose hope. Or better yet- wait until you're a sophomore in college," he advised jokingly. The class shared a forced bout of laughter, most students grimacing at the prospect of spending the next five years working as hard as they had the night before. Cyrus merely sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as Mr. Stile introduced the lesson. Cyrus sat through the whole of the lesson, only for history to repeat itself- the class extended to 10:56, leaving Cyrus with four minutes to sprint across campus to his room for his English Lit book before rushing to his class. Cyrus nearly fell up the stairs trying to get to his room, quickly grabbing his book and rushing back downstairs and across campus. He basically sprinted into Mrs. Elliot's room just in time, falling into his seat as the lesson began. By some force of nature- miracle, wishful thinking, or sheer willpower, no one could be sure- class ended at exactly 11:40, and all 31 students in the class rushed out the door for lunch. Cyrus followed the crowd without thinking, and before he knew it he was absentmindedly swiping his meal card and stepping into the cafeteria. Damn. He'd deliberately skipped breakfast that morning to avoid his friends, and now he was going to have to face them. He briefly considered turning around and leaving, but he'd already swiped his card, and leaving would be humiliating. Though, so was standing in the middle of the cafeteria, hands empty and feeling the gazes of Andi and Buffy burning into his skull. He quickly found a plate, dumping the first thing he saw (a ham sandwich on rye, sealed in plastic wrap) onto it before turning back towards the tables. He briefly caught eyes with Andi, whose eyes narrowed before flitting away, before his gaze settled on an empty table in the other corner of the room. His head down, he hurried to the empty table, setting his sandwich down and pulling To Kill a Mockingbird from his bookbag. He rested his chin in his hand and opened the front cover. Just as he flipped the page, someone appeared in front of him. "Ah! God, announce yourself every once in a while," Cyrus said, gesturing to TJ, standing in front of him. "Sorry, Underdog," TJ apologized. Cyrus scoffed at the nickname, shaking his head. "Is that nickname going to stick?" "I think it just might," TJ nodded. "Mind if I sit? My friends have disowned me." he gestured vaguely across the cafeteria, to where an entire table of jocks was staring at TJ, anger in their eyes. "Yeah, of course," Cyrus said, scooping his things off the table, save for the ham sandwich, still lying forgotten at the end of the table. "So you're the one who took the last ham sandwich," TJ said, taking the seat across from Cyrus. "Oh, I- I guess I did," Cyrus said with a shrug. "Have an affinity for ham on rye?" "I guess I do," TJ repeated teasingly. "What do I have to do to get that sandwich from you?" "Oh, you can hav... is that a chocolate chocolate chip muffin?" TJ grinned, sliding Cyrus his muffin and taking the sandwich triumphantly. "I seem to have found your weakness," TJ said excitedly, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a joyous bite from the corner. His eyes sparkled with smug triumph as he swallowed, before biting back into the sandwich. "You have no idea," Cyrus mumbled, taking a bite from his muffin. "So what happened with your friends- if you don't mind me asking?" TJ froze, staring down at his plate and slowly swallowing the bite he'd been chewing before making eye contact with Cyrus once again. "Nothing- stupid friend stuff," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "What about you, Curly and Moe?" "Oh, so we're the Three Stooges now?" "Yep." "What do you mean 'what about you'?" Cyrus asked, stealing a carrot from TJ's tray. "What happened with you three?" "I told you, Buffy and I fought, and Andi's mad at me now. I kind of overreacted yesterday." "Overreacted to what?" "Oh, nothing much- stupid friend stuff," Cyrus said vaguely, looking over TJ's shoulder to where Buffy and Andii were staring at him, talking in hushed voices. "I know it well," TJ nodded, albeit with a raised eyebrow. "What are you looking at? Ah." He turned around to look at Buffy and Andi, then nodded in understanding. "Ostracized?" "Pretty much, yeah. Hence the sitting at this table. I skipped breakfast this morning to avoid them." "I'm sorry, Underdog. That sucks." "Well, you're in the same boat," Cyrus shrugged. "I'm first oarsman," TJ confirmed. "Does that make me... Second oarsman?" "Is that how boats work?" "You think I'd know that?" "I've known you for three days!" TJ defended, sliding his salad across the table. "Here, you need to eat." "Thanks," Cyrus said with a grin, stealing TJ's fork and stabbing at the lettuce. "But I feel like I am not the kind of person who exudes boating energy." "Did you just use the phrase 'exudes boating energy'?" "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." "Is this a common choice of words for you?" "Not really," Cyrus admitted. "Alright, if this conversation is anything to go by, we need to play 20 questions." "...The guessing game?" "Not that 20 questions," TJ chuckled. "There's more than one version of 20 questions?" "Apparently so. Anyway, the rules." "Rules?" "Rules," TJ confirmed. "One. We each ask 10 questions about each other- any 10." "So it's really 10 questions, not 20?" "Don't question it. Two. We're allowed to pass on...two questions. Three- no lying, whatsoever. Four. No questions that are too personal-anything an adult would say to avoid at a dinner party, you avoid here." "Interesting measurement of how appropriate a question is," Cyrus noted. "It paints the picture, though." Cyrus nodded begrudgingly, taking a bite of salad. "Continue," he said, waving his fork at TJ. "Alright. The most important rule of them all; tell no one anything we say here. It doesn't matter if it's my favorite color or my deepest secret- we say nothing." "What happens at lunch stays at lunch," Cyrus said, nodding in understanding. "You start." "Okay... Any siblings?" "One half-sister, Emily. She's eight. What do your parents do?" "My mom's a kindergarten teacher, dad's a business guy- Amber and I don't really know what he does." TJ shrugged. "Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?" "Not a clue, but I'll probably end up following in my parents' footsteps." Cyrus took a deep breath, looking up at TJ. "Have a crush on anyone?" he asked, trying his best to even his voice. "...Pass." Cyrus nodded, sighing in defeat. "How about you?" "I...I don't know," Cyrus stammered. "Okay..." TJ said incredulously, seeming to take that as valid answer nonetheless. "Um, what's your favorite book?" "...The Great Gatsby?" TJ replied. "What about you?" "The Grapes of Wrath. What does TJ stand for?" TJ stared at him for a long moment, taking a bite of his sandwich before opening his mouth to speak "...Pass." "Really?" "Yep. Are you religious?" TJ asked. "That is a blatant violation of the dinner party rule, but yes. I'm Jewish. Are you?" "No, I'm not," TJ shrugged. "My parents are though." "Fair enough." "Alright, question 6. What really happened between you and Buffy?" "Pass. What really happened between you and your friends?" "...I can't pass, can I?" Cyrus shook his head apologetically. "Can I lie?" "Do you really want to make that kind of an impression on me?" TJ sighed, shaking his head. "One of them...accidentally outed me. And the others didn't take it so well," he admitted. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's terrible." "What's done is done. Listen, I'm sorry to cut our game short, but I have to get to class." With that, he was gone, rushing out of the cafeteria without a second look at Cyrus. "God, he really has a habit of doing that."

Cyrus and TJ were both sitting cross-legged on their respective beds, each surrounded by a mild flood of books. A sharp knock on the door caused both of their heads to spring up before TJ parted the sea of studying to stand up. The second he opened the door, someone rushed inside, a flurry of limbs and apology. Cyrus jumped slightly, displacing the homework in his lap just enough for three books to tumble to the ground. "TJ, I've been trying to talk to you all day! I am so sorry, man. I didn't mean to-" "Marty, it's fine!" TJ exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know you didn't mean to out me, please just sit down." "I'm really really sorry, TJ," Marty mumbled, sitting in TJ's desk chair. As he did so, TJ's twin sister rushed into the room, only to step forward and slap the boy-Marty, TJ had said. "Oh- Oh my God," Cyrus mumbled, watching TJ pull Amber away from Marty. "Amber! Sit down!" TJ ordered, pointing to Cyrus's chair. Amber reluctantly did so, holding her hands up in a surrender. "He outed you, Teej," she grumbled frostily as she sat down, crossing her arms over her chest. "By accident!" TJ protested. "Well, when someone accidentally knocks over a candle, they still burned the house down!" "So not the same thing," Marty cut in, holding his jaw gingerly. "Shut up!" Amber and TJ exclaimed in unison. Just as Cyrus stood up to leave and let them sort this out, Buffy and Andi marched into the room, effectively pushing Cyrus back inside. "Cyrus, can we talk?" Buffy asked. "Good God, I do not want to deal with this right now," Cyrus huffed, sitting back on his bed. "Why are you here, Andi?" "...Moral support?" "Alright," Cyrus said, addressing everyone in the room. "Andi, Amber- get out of our room." "And do what?" Amber asked. "I don't care! Go introduce yourselves, play 20 questions, do homework, find some conveniently placed cups to press to the door-It doesn't matter! Just leave!" Cyrus exclaimed. "Okay, okay," Amber said, holding her the door open for Andi as they left. "Do you think we should go?" she asked Andi. "I want to see how this ends!" "Me too, honestly," Amber agreed, sitting down against the wall next to the door. Andi grinned, sitting next to her. After a moment's silence, Andi turned to Amber, extending a hand. "I don't think we've met." "I don't think we have," Amber agreed, smiling slightly as she took Andi's hand. "Amber Kippen." "Andi Mack." "You're very pretty, Andi Mack," Amber flirted boldly. "As are you, Amber Kippen."

Cyrus and TJ pushed Marty and Buffy out of their room at the same time, letting the door swing shut behind them and flopping onto their beds in exhaustion. "Having friends is exhausting," TJ grumbled. "I'm with you there."

Amber and Andi stood up when Buffy and Marty stepped out of the room. All four exchanged simple introductions, before naturally separating as they walked downstairs; Amber and Andi walking alongside one another, Buffy and Marty mirroring them a few yards behind. "We have 8th/9th PE together, don't we?" Marty asked Buffy, turning to her as they jogged downstairs. "Yeah, seventh period B days. You're really fast," Buffy noted. "Oh, thanks," Marty grinned at the praise, nodding happily. "I'm faster, though, of course," Buffy said. "Why, I'm offended," Marty joked, turning onto the second floor after Buffy. "You and me both know I'm way faster!" "I guess we'll just have to test it out sometime," Buffy flirted, following Andi into their room and letting the door swing shut behind them, leaving Marty and Amber staring at it in defeat. "I guess we will."

#tyrus #andi mack #that damned universe fic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman

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old1ddude · 6 years

Text

Living With Pink

Since @seasurfacefullofclouds did a lovely review on ‘Harry Styles’ (post) after living with it for more than a year - I felt inspired to write up my own observations and opinions.

For the sake of brevity and the fact that it seems to irritate certain haters - I will refer to Harry’s album as “PINK” throughout.

Melody! There are ten good, fully developed melodies in an era where a four note hook combined with a bass loop is thought to constitute a song. Really, there are more than ten, Sign of the Times has three distinct melodies, seamlessly woven together. (On an intellectual level, I understand that some people don’t think melody is the most important element of music. On a gut level, I just don’t get it. Melody is it for me.) I’ve listened to PINK straight through hundreds of times. The beauty and quality present in every song, nearly every moment never fails to impress. I’ve never really been an album guy, because, even among my favorite artists, at least half of the songs seem there just to take up space. (I used to make mix tapes, back in the day.) With PINK, I feel that every song has real merit and is fully worthy of it’s place. Harry’s voice (which I have always really loved - even X-Factor era) and vocal technique have reached a superlative level. I think Harry is at absolutely peak performance, and it’s a beautiful thing to behold. The instrumentation and arrangements are breathtaking. Even the angry Kiwi has deep beauty and avoids shrill, unpleasant sounds, often found in hard rock. For those who are willing to look below the surface, PINK’s honesty, vulnerability and frankness are noteworthy. I feel that Harry is speaking directly to me and the album is providing a window into his soul - into his humanity. PINK grapples with internal conflicts omnipresent in the human condition, good and evil, love and hate, selfishness and sacrifice. I am very confident that PINK will sound just as good 20, or 30 years from now - it won’t ever become stale, or sound dated. Some wished for a more cohesive album, but for me, the variety makes it really hard to grow bored of PINK. I was infatuated with the album from the start. As time goes on, my love for it only deepens.

This ended up getting pretty long - track by track under the cut.

Meet Me in the Hallway was a bit dreary to me at first. Now I find myself absorbed in it. The aching and longing, the vulnerability, the pain - it all feels so close, honest and real. The repetition of “gotta get better” is slightly irritating to my ear - for that reason, I will occasionally skip the track. I do wonder, however, if that irritation was intentional - meant to provoke some unease in the listener. The guitar part on this song is achingly beautiful, as is Harry’s voice.

Sign of the Times is a masterpiece by any measure. Sea pointed out how difficult it is to sing this song in a way to do it any justice. Precious few artists could pull it off. Every time I hear it, the song transports me - it lifts me out of myself. The rich, full sound and deft combination of three distinct melodies is no small feat. Guitar slides, strings, gospel choirs - it could so easily be overblown, or too grandiose, but it strike the perfect balance. The song moves at a stately sixty beats per minute. I would imagine this is very close to Harry’s resting heart rate. There is nothing rushed - every moment is given it’s full due. Also, I am of the old fashioned belief that art should be beautiful. Every second of SotT is achingly beautiful and I love it.

Carolina is great fun and incredibly clever. May artists try to be “edgy,” or “cool” by referencing drugs. Carolina recreates in music what I imagine it would feel like to be high on coke. (I’ve been around people who were jacked up before.) The manic “la la la la la la la la’s,” the fuzzy sensation, “she feels so good!” If you listen carefully, Harry sings it as if he is in a slight haze - king of nuance, as always. The metaphor is nothing short of brilliant - “get’s into parties without invitation” - “she feels so good.” Layers of sound, particularly on the second verse, are extraordinary. This song gives you the same kind of sugar rush a hit pop song can deliver, but backs it up with plenty of vitamins and protein, so you don’t get that “sugar low” and grow tired of it.

Two Ghosts has some of the most compelling word images - “Fridge light washes this room white,” for one. It’s a deceptively simple, easy to sing song, but a lot of artist would turn out a boring rendition. The album version is lovely, but the performance he did, just Harry and his guitar, was breathtaking. Once again, we have deep vulnerability and profound honesty. I do wish he had done the vocal “ooo’s” on the album version. We’ve all seen how hyper aware Harry is of his surroundings. He stared right at the camera trying to snag a sneaky snap. He spots people, way up in the nosebleed seats, trying to leave early and gently chastises them. He’s too finely tuned of an instrument to handle fireworks easily. I believe he is much more aware of all his senses than the average person. Touch, taste, sight, sound - he sculpts and paints with his music.

Sweet Creature is a song I will often skip back and repeat as once through just isn’t enough. It’s not a sugary, or fairy tale version of love, but honest, vulnerable, real. “Runnin through the garden, oh when nothing bothered us,” paints such a beautiful picture. “Sweet Creature” is such and odd phrase and yet conveys such warmth and deep connection for Louis another person. Harry’s voice brings an incredible warmth to this song - a warmth utterly unique to his quite distinctive voice. Again, it takes great artistry to impart such feeling on a relatively simple song, like this. The guitar part is certainly inspired by the Beatles’ Blackbird, but any similarity ends there, in my opinion. For my ear, Sweet Creature is a better song - it moves me in a way Blackbird never could.

Only Angel sets up a beautiful dichotomy. The angelic, SotT inspired, into and outro envelop the hard rock interior. The contrast intentionally reinforces the song’s story. Harry’s voice doesn’t quite have the anger, or hardness one might expect at on a first listen - the warmth in his voice was very intentional. The angel (which is Harry himself) is also a devil between the sheets. Mother (authority figure) doesn’t approve of how the angel presents “herself.” Harry loves attention and the stage, but hates fame. He’s good and kind, but also has a dirty side. (I could go on and on, but I’ve written on my OA interpretation extensively, ages ago.) A plus for using a flawed angel as a metaphor for himself - brilliant. The melody is catchy as hell - it’s a “bop” and great fun to hear, but there’s so much meat it’s almost ridiculous. The sound is rich and beautiful throughout and I love that he brings back the angelic sound to close it out.

Kiwi has so little movement in the melody, yet it works beautifully - somehow, it’s still a great melody and hard to get out of your head. The instrumentation is angry and hard, yet rich, full and pleasant to the ear. Harry’s voice has just the right amount of anger and derision. “She” is Simon Cowell. She tempts the boys with fame and fortune, but she’s hollow inside. It’s an angry song, but it feels so good, joyful even, to hear it. Harry’s stage performance reveals how cathartic it is to finally tell Simon what he thinks of him - in front of a massive audience. I love Kiwi so much, I’ve made the most raucous chorus into a ringtone on my phone. “Oh I think she said, “I’m having your baby” [heyyyy] “it’s none of your business” [hoooo......] Harry has such a great, raspy rock voice - it really isn’t fair.

Ever Since New York sounds like some combination of Bruce Springsteen and the Statler Brothers. The accompaniment is beautiful and rich with a really great, solid melody. Harry’s vocalization suggests someone who is TIRED and DONE with the situation. “Tell me something, tell me something new. Don’t know nothing, just pretend you do...” is sung as a plea - a plea devoid of any hope of being answered. Harry is vulnerable, broken and through putting up a front, or playing games.

Woman has been compared to Elton John’s Bennie and the Jets a lot - way too much, in my opinion. There are similarities in the structure of the song, but Woman has a completely different sound. I like a lot of John’s music, but when he sings “B-B-B-Bennie” he squeaks like a rusty hinge. Harry sings “W-W-W-Woman” in a different key and melody (and with a deep, pleasant vocal.) “Selfish I know...” It’s one of the best jealousy songs I’ve ever heard. He knows he’s selfish - knows it’s wrong, but can’t help his feelings. I love Harry’s unflinching look at the darker side of human nature and wholly realistic view of his own failings. Woman has a very good melody and those little “la-la la-la la-la la-la’s” give it just the zest in needs.

From the Dining Table might just be too honest. While the artistry was immediately apparent, I was a little slow to warm up to this song, because it’s a bit depressing. He sings about masturbating as a distraction to his pain and loneliness (and some said the album wasn’t honest enough!) This song is pure vulnerability. It’s arranged with such simplicity and great restraint. (Harry understands the beauty of restraint, you can hear it in If I Could Fly.) This is another song which must be sung with great artistry, to prevent it being dull. The addition of strings and lovely female harmonies (”maybe one day you’ll call me...”) is a master stroke. I am perplexed as to why he didn’t have Sarah and Clair sing the harmonies on tour. Beautiful, beautiful song, but it is still a bit depressing - as it was meant to be. Harry loves angst and drama.

Speaking of restraint, Harry has a habit of doing just enough, but never too much (nuance again.) He changes vocal inflection and flavor with ease, but never adds gratuitous vocal embellishment. Harry is quite capable of singing runs and all sorts of vocal gymnastics, but chooses a simple, restrained beauty. (Sometimes, less is more.) He maintains this restrained discipline in the accompaniment, as well. PINK is a rock album, but also so much more. In ten, or twenty years it will still sound fresh - and I think more people will realize what a masterpiece it truly is.

#PINK #Harry

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earpdearp · 6 years

Text

not just a sister

Wherein Waverly (with help from Wynonna) chases down a missing Willa. On top of being super frickin’ exhausted and processing a lot of complicated frickin’ emotions, Waverly gets shot when the Homestead is attacked. And has to tell an already-worried Nicole about it.

Takes place in 1x11. Utilizes Road to Purgatory content for flavor.

Trigger warning for abuse mentions of Waverly’s history with Willa/Ward. Also describes Waverly dealing with getting shot. Also on AO3. Approximately 7,847 words.

Other WayHaught “not just friends” fics in this series: not just any first date | not just a secret | not just heavenly | not just a long day | not just best friends

“Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—“

Waverly had been muttering the same phrase under her breath for the past three hours. First while freezing cold running around the Homestead, then freezing cold driving around the Homestead.

It was an ungodly hour of the night and Waverly’s nerves were shot. She was perpetually hovering on the verge of tears/panic, but couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the Homestead even to check her phone. She didn’t want to have to face telling anyone the truth.

She had lost Willa.

Their big sister, back from the dead. A brainwashed cult victim struggling to remember who she was… and Waverly had driven her away.

It had been an accident. An awkward conversation gone awry.

Her intentions had been good. Waverly gritted her teeth and tried to do what Nicole had suggested.

“Try talking to Willa. Get to know her, maybe? Or at least let her know you?”

So Waverly had brought out her memory box… well, one of them. She had one for Momma, one for Daddy and one for Willa (Momma’s was the smallest). Pictures, newspaper clippings, ribbons and some toys of Willa’s. It had also once held Willa’s necklace: a green crescent moon on a gold chain. …But that was in the hands of Bobo Del Rey now.

They had sat together on Willa’s bed and gone through some of them, mostly the pictures. Willa had been oddly fascinated with the copy of her death certificate and asked about her own funeral. Waverly offered up the program as well, a small folded paper with a faded picture of a 13-year-old girl on the front.

Those funerals were one of Waverly’s few vivid, early memories. She had hoped the story would make Willa happy(? In a way?), though it hadn’t turned out that way.

“I saw the little white coffin but I knew you weren’t actually in there,” Waverly had said, the memory almost foreign in her mind. It had been surreal for a six-year-old, like someone was playing a game she didn’t understand. “They’d filled it with sandbags.”

“Was it a nice service?” Willa seemed genuinely curious, her face soft.

“All I remember was…” Waverly paused to reflect. Aunt Gus came to mind, as did Uncle Curtis, their faces contorted in despair as they held each other. “…a lot of crying.”

Something else came to mind, which made a sad smile pull Waverly’s cheek. “And the food. The grown-ups let me eat as maaany marshmallows as I wanted.” Ugh. “…I threw up all night long.”

A sad sigh was heavy in Waverly’s chest. She’d tried to dull the pain that day with marshmallows and it had gone terribly.

Willa’s voice pulled Waverly out of her thoughts, soft and scathing and cold. “Gee. That must have been so hard for you.”

The rebuke awoke a fluttering in Waverly’s chest, dormant for so many years. An anxiety that had been sitting just under the surface since last night. She felt an immediate need to please, to undo it, to make Willa just understand that was not what she’d meant. Waverly’s shoulders tensed and a breath caught in her throat.

“…I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s really intense. You guys killed me,” Willa intoned almost emotionlessly, like she didn’t really mean it. She tilted her head at Waverly. “What did you bury in Daddy’s coffin?”

Waverly had inhaled deeply before answering. “…Daddy.” A pair of tears sitting just on top of her eyes threatened to spill over.

There was a pause as Willa closed her eyes, her expression briefly tortured. She started to sway forward on the bed, a breath catching in her throat.

As Waverly asked if Willa remembered something, Willa had reached out to steady herself on Waverly’s shoulder. Except that fluttering anxiety made Waverly pull away, those tears trickling down her cheek. She flinched at Willa’s touch… and Willa had definitely noticed.

“Are you scared of me?” The woman’s face contorted amid a mixture of emotions. First confusion, then a cold sneer, then begrudging acceptance. With that, Willa pushed off the bed and took off down the hall.

Still sitting, Waverly was too stunned to move. She mentally kicked herself for her lack of reaction… mostly because the answer was “Yes.”

“Yes, Willa. I’m scared of you. I’ve always been scared of you.”

How could she say that? That was worse than saying nothing.

The slam of the front door roused Waverly from her brief brooding.

She couldn’t have—did Willa just—?

“Oh balls!”

She couldn’t take it back, so all she could do was make it right. Waverly finally gave chase, but the front porch light was too dim. She couldn’t tell what direction the woman had gone. A pair of snowy tracks led straight out from the Homestead, but beyond that?

Oh balls.

For the next couple of hours, Waverly had hit every single hiding spot on the Homestead and surrounding land five times, calling Willa’s name the whole time. The barn, the pond, the pet cemetery, the wood shed, the grove, the border fence, the fallow field on the other side… not a sign of Willa.

Not that Waverly was much of a tracker in the first place.

God, I wish Doc were still here.

He’s probably halfway to Alaska by now. …the big dummy.

It was close to four in the morning by the time Waverly finally went home. The nap at Nicole’s earlier was the only reason Waverly wasn’t dead on her feet. She was both angry and relieved to find Wynonna still wasn’t back yet, though it didn’t change the ugly, gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She was dismayed to find her phone was dead, but Waverly was too tired and upset to deal with it. After throwing it on the charger, she collapsed face-first onto her bed and fell asleep immediately.

Waverly awoke a few hours later to Wynonna pulling on her ankle and hissing in her ear. “Hey! Hey Waverly! What the shit? Where’s Willa?”

Oh shitballs.

Groaning into her pillow, Waverly told Wynonna the whole story. Her sister took it surprisingly well. All Wynonna did was tilt her head back, swear at the ceiling, sigh loudly, then yank Waverly’s ankle again.

“I’ll make coffee. You get your ass in the shower. Then we go find her. …Also, you’re buying donuts.”

Oh God, Waverly was so tired. She toweled off her hair with her eyes closed, her eyelids impossibly heavy and grainy after such a long, stressful night.

The past week—two weeks—month?—had felt like an eternity. There was just this exhausted twinge in her shoulders and back, and every yawn reverberated through Waverly’s jaw and into her chest. A dry, stinging pain had taken up residence in her eyes and a dull headache sat at her temples.

The only saving grace to the nonstop Revenant shit-show (and now Willa shit-show) had been her brief reprieves spent with Nicole.

…Oh shit! Nicole!

Reaching for the phone on the nightstand (glowing with 100% battery life again), Waverly counted six missed calls and four missed texts.

[Waverly says: “She tried to touch me and I accidentally flinched. She freaked out and ran”]

[Nicole says: “I’m so sorry, Waverly”] (Read: 11:17 PM)

[Nicole says: “Are you doing okay? Did you make up with Willa?”] (12:09 AM)

[Nicole says: “I’m still at the Poker Spectacular, but I could come by after?”] (1:42 AM)

[Nicole says: “Did you find her? Call me when you get a chance”] (2:26 AM)

[Nicole says: “Hey Wave, just seeing how you’re doing? I’ll catch you in the morning?”] (3:14 AM)

A couple of voicemails echoed these thoughts, mostly Nicole’s uncertainty if Waverly wanted her to come by to help or not. And that she was keeping her phone close by in case Waverly needed her.

She’s just the best, Waverly sighed before tapping out a response. She desperately wanted to call, but not with Wynonna listening in.

[Waverly says: “Oh God, I lost Willa”]

[Waverly says: “And I’m so sorry!!! my phone died and i was out all night looking and”]

[Waverly says: “Wynonna’s back and we’re gonna go look now”]

[Waverly says: “I’m so so sorry if i worried you!”]

[Waverly says: “I hope you had a good night at the poker thing!”]

[Waverly says: “I can’t talk right now but I’ll call you later! Promise!! And you can tell me about the Poker Sspectacular”]

She sent a kiss emoji for good measure in the hopes it would seem reassuring.

A “…” appeared almost immediately. Her phone vibrated with Nicole’s responses.

[Nicole says: “Okay. I’m off today so let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”]

[Nicole says: “I’m here for you, Waves. Whatever you need”]

A pair of hearts followed that final text, which Waverly repeated back.

Just the best.

Wynonna and Waverly parked at one end of the short Purgatory downtown and made a plan to divide and conquer. Wynonna took one side of the street, Waverly the other. They’d meet at the next block. Keep phones close. Go Team Earp.

A quick circuit of the grocery store was Waverly’s first target, though it was made unnecessarily long because of all the Purgatorians wanting to stop and chat. Mostly to ask how she was doing and how much they missed her face behind the counter at Shorty’s.

“Oh, uh, yea. New management and all. And I was thinking about—um—applying to grad school,” Waverly had deflected as her eyes skimmed the aisles.

A chorus of “Good for you, Waverly”s mixed with “Oh, you’re not leaving, are you”s were muttered along with well-wishes.

One older woman even expressed her condolences that Gus was leaving in the form of an odd platitude: “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but sometimes He is telling us to find a new place to handle it.” Waverly wasn’t sure if she was supposed to agree or be grateful for that sentiment, and instead opted to give Mrs. Brimley what she hoped was a thoughtful smile.

It all might have been touching if Waverly didn’t have a missing sister to find. She escaped the grocery store and exchanged a head shake with Wynonna who had just exited the liquor store across the street (a distinct brown bag tucked into a jacket pocket).

God Damn it, Wynonna. At a time like this?

…what better time to start drinking, actually? Maybe I should pick something up.

I’d probably fall asleep.

The older Earp nodded her head at the diner while Waverly gestured towards the pawn shop next door.

Oh God… the pawn shop.

The shop was just as cramped as it always was. Flickering fluorescent lighting, an odd leather and mildew smell, all crowded together in cramped aisles with poorly organized shelves.

If you knew where to look, there was still some evidence the pawn shop had been the site of a hostage stand-off only a few months ago. A hole in the wall a trio of Revenants had torn through was haphazardly patched with cinder blocks and a shelf stacked with trucker hats.

A dark stain on the floor still lingered near a center aisle… Shorty’s blood.

Sighing, Waverly quickly glanced down the remaining five short rows. Only a pair of patrons were in the pawn shop, neither of them a young (probably angry) woman. Those two older men were haggling over a pair of antique shotguns with the grizzled owner and paid her no mind.

Waverly didn’t want to linger here any longer than she had to. That anxious feeling in her chest was starting to fray around the edges from stress/exhaustion. She just felt so tired. Before she had just been tired of the Earp Curse, but now it was a different kind of tired. She was tired of saying and doing the wrong thing.

Losing Willa had been bad enough, but finding Willa again? That inevitability almost felt worse (and made Waverly feel terrible about feeling that way, creating a cycle of guilt). And now, piled on top of all that, was a pang of longing for how much Waverly missed Shorty. How much she missed her old life before Shorty had died, before Gus was leaving, before Willa had come back.

What about before Wynonna came back? …no. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

Before Nicole? …definitely not. Nicole is my best—well, she’s the best.

Waverly had a vague memory of being in this shop as a child with her father and sisters. She remembered Willa begging Daddy for a guitar she’d seen in the window. 12-year-old Willa wanted to learn to play while Daddy disagreed because she needed to focus. Wynonna had been fascinated by a wall of various military knives (just what every 10-year-old girl needed).

A 5-year-old Waverly had spent the entire visit with her face pressed against the jewelry case. She loved jewelry (still did, as evidenced by her large collection of earrings, necklaces and bangle bracelets). Little Waverly had wanted a pretty ring like Momma or a pretty necklace like Willa. She didn’t get one that day. Instead, Willa got a new switchblade.

…Willa… Willa’s necklace…

Ugh. Stupid Bobo.

Waverly had the faintest of hopes that maybe—maybe—Bobo had hocked the small crescent moon at the pawn shop. She made her way over to the glass case opposite the gun racks. But a quick skim of the low shelves revealed no familiar gold chain or green medallion.

Which means he’s keeping it as a trophy. Gross.

She almost slammed a fist against the glass counter but stopped herself (and pounded the top of her fist on her thigh instead). Yet another thing that wasn’t going right.

Turning on her heel, a different display caught Waverly’s eye. Not the necklaces, but the trays of rings. There, in a recessed box, were a pair of matching gold rings with tiny green jewels at their centers.

The elderly pawn dealer, finished with the two men, smiled at Waverly. He called over to her as he slid along the opposite side of the counter. “Find somethin’ you like, darlin’?”

She checked her watch. Surely Waverly could spare a minute. Willa had been gone all damn night, after all.

And Wynonna had stopped for booze.

Gesturing to the two rings, Waverly asked to see. Something about them spoke to her. They were simple, lovely, sweet.

The man, Ernest, pulled on a pair of half-moon spectacles hanging from a black cord on his neck. Blinking, he pulled out the box and examined the rings. He recalled a Navajo artist who used to come to the Ghost River Triangle and sell her jewelry at the county fairs. A small hand-inscribed card indicated these were “Lucky Stones” that could “bring peace and balance.” To exchange rings of green jade was to “heal the wearer and purify your energy field with loving acceptance.”

Ernie winked at Waverly as he slipped his glasses off. “I don’t know about all that, but they are fourteen carat gold.” He quoted her a price.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Waverly had pulled out a credit card. Even Ernest seemed taken aback, but he accepted her card and hustled over to the register. “Got someone in mind for one of these?”

“I think I do,” Waverly smiled back.

Waverly tucked the small box into a pocket of her brown quilted coat and quickly headed back outside.

Waiting at the intersection was a still-scowling Wynonna, hand slipping an opened bottle back into her puffy black jacket. Waverly met Wynonna in front of a florist and they walked down the street together, eyes peeled for Willa.

Wynonna kicked at the ground with her boots, frustration raw in her voice. “What were you thinking, showing Willa her own scrapbook of death??”

Waverly balked at the accusation. “Wha—She was curious! Wouldn’t you be curious?”

“Well, it freaked her out!” Wynonna snapped back, eyebrows arching.

All Waverly could do was sheepishly mumble. “…yea, more like pissed her off.” She scanned the few people out and about down the street. Still no Willa.

“I wish Doc were here.”

When Waverly shot her a glare, Wynonna begrudgingly clarified. “He bailed on me… on us. …But he’s a hell of a tracker.”

“Yea, good point,” Waverly admitted. She felt that pang of frustration again. “How are we gonna find a girl we know nothing about?”

Waverly had spent most of the night trying to find the sister she thought she knew, but that was her first mistake: this wasn’t their Willa.

Glancing over at her sister, Waverly was confused when she saw Wynonna looking past her. A turn of Waverly’s head revealed a large yellow flier taped to the lamppost. It was an advertisement for half priced drinks at Shorty’s-slash-Bobo’s.

Ugh.

Wynonna growled with disdain. “What is that musk-ox playing at?” Her eyes suddenly lit up with realization. “Hey! …you think?”

It took Waverly another second to figure out what Wynonna was getting at.

“She is an Earp,” Waverly agreed with a nod.

Eyes widening in almost-panic, Wynonna smiled slightly. “Bet she drinks ‘em dry in 20 minutes.”

Waverly sighed loudly. “Come on.”

Willa was indeed hiding out at Shorty’s/Bobo’s trying out various beers and liquors. Waverly had been apprehensive about confronting her sister again, but this time Wynonna patted her arm and stepped up. Instead, Waverly had run back to get her Jeep to take them home.

She relished the excused to retreat, honestly. There was something about Willa that reminded Waverly of Daddy (and not just because of the cold, coiled way she drank, like she was half-asleep but could fly into a rage at any moment).

That last thing Waverly had heard over her shoulder before exiting the bar was a glass slamming down.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wynonna had said in a hushed voice.

And again that cold, accusing voice of Willa’s. “And you shouldn’t have shot our daddy.”

A shudder crawled down Waverly’s spine as she jogged down the block to her car. It was the same feeling from last night, a sense of smallness in Willa’s cold presence. Wrapped in that smallness was that familiar, irrational desire to please, to make Willa understand what was going on.

Hopefully Wynonna would have better luck than Waverly did.

Climbing into her Jeep, Waverly slammed the door and savored the quiet for a moment. Unfortunately, along with that peace crept in the exhaustion she’d been keeping at bay with coffee and a prayer. She took a few deep breaths and shook it out of her shoulders before turning the ignition and cruising over to the alley behind Shorty’s.

Waverly idled there and lolled her head against the head rest for a minute before pulling out her phone. Her thumbs tapped out a quick message.

[Waverly says: “Found Willa drinking at Bobo’s. Waiting on Wynonna to pick her up now”]

Closing her eyes, Waverly rested her forehead against the cool steering wheel and let the heat warm her toes. A text message chime brought her head back up.

[Nicole says: “That should surprise me but it doesn’t”]

Waverly snickered and gave an assenting nod to herself.

[Waverly says: “That’s fair”]

[Waverly says: “Remember the days when we could go 5 mins without drama?”]

[Nicole says: “No drama? In what Purgatory do you live in? Mine is chock full of drama :P”]

[Waverly says: “Lol true enough”]

[Waverly says: “I miss you. Having a good day?”]

[Nicole says: “Miss you too. And it’s been good. Pretty quiet”]

[Waverly says: “How’s my little foot warmer?”]

A long pause. This time, a SnapChat pinged back with a picture of Calamity Jane curled up on Waverly’s blanket draped over the couch. The text caption read “I can’t tell if she misses you or just really likes your blanket.”

[Waverly says: “Aww!! Obvs she misses ME”]

[Nicole says: “Lol totes obvs”]

The sound of glass shattering roused Waverly from her blissful few minutes talking to Nicole.

Oh God… Wynonna.

Or Willa.

Leaving her Jeep idling with steam clouding around the tailpipe, Waverly threw open the car door and headed in through the side entrance. She was just in time to see a Revenant screaming in agony as he was dragged down to hell in flames.

Yes!

…No! Wait! Bad! That’s bad!

Glancing over, it was Willa staring down the end of Peacemaker in her hand.

Oh God. It is true. She’s the real Earp Heir.

The bar was descending into chaos (though over the gunshot or the Revenant-sent-back-to-hell, it was hard to tell which). Stools were kicked away as bikers backed off, some with glowing red eyes. Waverly shouted at her sister and waved them over to the back entrance. “Wynonna!!”

Wynonna gave a nod before she started arguing with Willa. Waverly didn’t stay to watch, she just ran at full speed back to her Jeep and maneuvered it as close to that door as possible. Her heart was pounding in fear, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—What if something happened? What if a Revenant comes out that door? What if Bobo comes out that door? What if Wynonna got hurt? Or Willa? Or a regular person? What if they lose Peacemaker in the confusion? What if—

The side door flew open to reveal: Wynonna! With Willa right behind her!

Oh thank God.

Waverly waved them into her car, keeping her eyes peeled in case any Revenants followed.

“That was amazing!” Willa exclaimed breathlessly as she crawled into the backseat.

Jumping into the passenger seat, Wynonna shouted in agreement before shooting Waverly an uncertain look. “…Dolls is gonna kill us!”

The drive back was awkward. Waverly was quietly miserable the entire time, her eyes on the road. Wynonna and Willa were only talking to each other, gushing over what a rush that fight was. Wynonna was also listing off some of the Revenants she’d killed since returning to Purgatory.

It was just—Waverly didn’t know what to say. She felt like she should apologize to Willa, but just not why. Plus, it felt like it would ruin the banter Willa and Wynonna were sharing—like it would bring down the moment or something.

Ugh.

What Waverly really wanted to do was have a damn second to herself to call Nicole. She found herself needing to hear a friendly voice.

Finally arriving back at the Homestead, Waverly saw Dolls’ black SUV parked in the long driveway. Oddly, she was relieved by the thought of his presence (in spite how pissed he’d probably be about shooting Revenants in broad daylight at Shorty’s/Bobo’s). Maybe he would know what to do about Willa? Or at least yell some sense into her? Maybe?

The stern military operative greeted them at the door, though Waverly slunk past while mumbling about putting on a kettle for tea.

Safe in the kitchen, away from everyone, Waverly allowed herself a deep breath. That was about all the time it took before the shouting started (instigated by Willa). Busying herself with dragging the metal pot from under the cabinet and filling it with tap water, Waverly could only sigh.

Willa was doing an impressive impersonation of Daddy as she admonished Dolls about the Earp Curse. How he wasn’t one of us. Dolls growled back about civilians. Waverly dug around in the pantry to look for tea while Will and Dolls screamed about nukes and instincts.

The sound of a chair being kicked and a door slamming made Waverly flinch.

This whole day had been doing a bang-up job reproducing memories of Waverly’s childhood she’d tried really hard to forget. Right down to Wynonna running away from everything. Oh God, how Waverly wanted to go with Wynonna this time. But, like when they were kids, it was Willa who took command while Waverly hid away.

“I’m her sister. I got it,” Willa said as she brushed Dolls aside and headed outside. To the barn, probably. It was the only real place to go at the Homestead for privacy (hence why Waverly had claimed a Spot at the Reservoir as far from home as possible).

That constant, exhausted shiver in Waverly’s shoulders was accompanied by a hollow ache in her chest. Just an overwhelming sense of feeling out of place… that she didn’t belong here.

Grasping for her phone, Waverly craved some human contact. But Dolls was right there, damn it. Can’t she get some frickin’ peace and quiet in her own frickin’ house? She settled for yet another text.

[Waverly says: “Sooo they kind of started a bar fight”]

[Nicole says: “Are you okay??”]

[Waverly says: “Oh I’m fine, I was outside. Wy and Willa probably kicked some ass tho”]

[Nicole says: “You Earps, I swear to god ;)”]

…Us Earps, indeed…

That’s right. I’m a frickin’ Earp and Wynonna is my frickin’ sister, too.

Inhaling a deep breath, Waverly squared her shoulders and pulled the whistling kettle off the stove. She strode past Dolls lurking in the living room to the front door and pulled it open.

The afternoon chill on the Homestead was biting, even with the sun so high. The surrounding snow was piled deep and in no immediate hurry to melt. Two pairs of footprints angled away from the sets around the porch and led to a large barn looming nearby.

Waverly would talk to Wynonna, too. She had been there for her sister the past few months, dealing with all the Earp Curse shit together. They would get through it. Together.

Except… not together.

Waverly had slipped into that barn to the sound of laughter. Willa and Wynonna, sharing a memory.

“We were two peas, you and I,” Willa said. “It’s always been you and I.”

No, not always. What about me?

Eyes glassy with tears, Wynonna cheek twitched fondly. “Yeah. I remember.”

Leaning in, Willa’s smile was warm with promise. “It can be like it always was. And different, too. In all the right ways. You’re not alone anymore.”

“Anymore.”

“Anymore??”

Say something, Wynonna. You weren’t alone. You had me. For 15 years we’ve had each other.

Remember?

Say something.

Say something!!

But she didn’t. Wynonna just sighed and let Willa—Willa—hug her. Comfort her.

This time when Waverly took a deep breath, she didn’t feel better. She felt empty. Alone.

Slipping back out the barn, a cold breeze stung Waverly’s eyes (and lungs with each shallow breath). It was her turn to want to run as far away as possible. A few (dozen) drinks at Shorty’s—Bobo’s—sounded really good right now. Too bad someone had started a bar fight and killed a frickin’ Revenant in broad daylight.

It was just like being a little kid again. Willa and Wynonna together always with no room for Waverly. That was always clear. She wasn’t wanted.

What if—what if they didn’t need her anymore? To help break the curse? She was third in line to be Heir (again). What did she have to offer?

Willa had Daddy’s training. Wynonna had been around the world and killed a bunch of Revenants already. And Waverly? They had her research. Her contribution was pinned to a board or piled into neat stacks at the BBD office. She might as well not even be there.

Waverly returned to the kitchen and made tea in bitter silence. She brought an additional cup over to Dolls, who was zoned out at the kitchen table staring at his cell phone.

“You’re quiet,” Waverly remarked, retreating to her old standby: polite small talk.

The Deputy Marshall actually smiled back as his fingers spun the teacup on the round table. “Yea, I’m just thinking. There’s a lot going on right now that just doesn’t add up.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Dolls scratched at the close-cropped hair on the top of his head. “Like, if Cryderman is dirty: that means someone is feeding him some BBD intel.”

“Someone we know? Or someone you work for?” Waverly asked.

The significance of the conversation wasn’t lost on her: if he suspected her, he wouldn’t be telling her. That meant Dolls trusted Waverly.

At least—at least someone does.

“I don’t know. Black Badge isn’t just a—a job for me,” Dolls admitted with a sheepish grin.

A bitter sigh of a laugh caught in Waverly’s throat. “Yea, no kidding.” She smiled at Dolls what she hoped was encouragement. “I get it. Feeling like you’re about to lose something…”

…Or everything…

The man adjusted in his chair and leaned forward, elbows on the table. His voice softened to an almost-whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t like her, you know.”

That struck a defensive chord. But this time, Waverly could actually try to explain to someone else who might listen. “I’m happy she’s back. I really am. It’s just—I never really knew her, y’know? …still don’t.”

Dolls peered at her with intensity. He promised, “We’ll get to the bottom of it, alright?”

“We.”

Right.

What “we?” Two Earp Heirs, a Deputy Marshall, and the little sister no one remembers exists?

Right.

Deflecting, Waverly smiled politely and took a sip of her tea. “Yea, I’m sure you will.”

“All of us,” Dolls corrected, his dark eyes holding hers significantly. He nodded his head slowly. “You’re good at what you do.” Smiling, he then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how many Willas come back. Doesn’t.” His hand slapped the table as he leaned back in his chair. “We’re still gonna need you, Earp.”

…Earp…

“You called me Earp,” Waverly echoed, her cheeks suddenly hurting from a pleased smile.

The sullen man brushed it off with a grin. “Yea, I did. Don’t let it go to your head.” But there was a twinkle in Dolls’ eye. He sobered before asking, “…There’s only three of you, right?”

Waverly laughed for real this time. The first time all day.

And then everything went batshit insane. The next few minutes were a total blur of noise, acrid smoke, and pumping adrenaline.

Broken windows, smoke bombs(!), popping gunfire, Dolls shouting orders, and then just crawling. Waverly squealed out blasphemies and curses as she crawled through the Homestead, lamps shattering and wood splintering all around and above her.

She remembered grabbing her shotgun from the kitchen table, the popping still echoing around her. There was a feeling of resentment at Dolls wanting her to hide in the basement while she clutched her shotgun. Bowls, apples, the teacups, everything was just exploding into bits around her as she hid behind the kitchen cabinets and waited for an opening.

That resentment boiled over into white-hot rage. This whole day—week—month—had just been too God Damn much and Waverly was God Damn sick and tired of it. If it wasn’t Revenants, it was witches or zombies or a long-lost sister and now assholes with guns and—you know what?!

“Eat shit, shit-eaters!” Waverly shouted as she unloaded her Winchester into the nearest Asshole in snow camo wielding an assault rifle. But the man, hunkered behind a woodpile, recovered and aimed back at her.

Waverly’s rage was immediately replaced by agony as she landed hard on her knees. Her whole right side radiated with a sharp pain that made it hard to breathe. Clutching her side, Waverly’s fingertips came back crimson with blood. She managed to stand and tried to walk over to the dining room as she heard her sisters’ voices at the front door, alive and angry.

Nope. Nope. She couldn’t do it. Waverly took a few steps forward, trying to hold the pain in. But it was too much. “Uh, guys? I think I got a little bit shot.” And with that, Waverly collapsed to the floor.

Willa’s angry shouting was hard to make out in the background. But Wynonna’s worried face swam in Waverly’s vision, calling her name and telling her it was going to be okay.

Oh God oh God oh God it hurts it hurts it hurts

“It’s just a graze,” Dolls informed her as he pulled back part of her sweater caked in blood. His probing fingertips made her hiss in pain.

“’Just??’” Waverly quipped back, her breathing getting shallow as she struggled not to hyperventilate.

Wynonna’s head snapped up at the front door slamming. “Shit! Willa!” The panic in Wynonna’s face made Waverly grip her sister’s wrist.

God damn it.

“Go,” Waverly said with a shaky nod. “We can’t lose her again.” She shouted “Go!” again and pushed Wynonna away.

A pattering of gunfire sprang Wynonna into action. She slapped Dolls on the shoulder and said softly, “Take care of her.”

Then everything swam for a bit.

Oh God, how it hurt.

Dolls was there, whispering reassurances. There was a hard pressure against her ribs that just pushed all the pain inward. She remembered muttering “Oh God” a lot and whimpering. All Waverly could do was whimper. There was so much blood and her head hurt along with her side. It was just dizzy, aching misery that seemed to last forever.

Waverly was just so so tired. She probably would have passed out already if the pain hadn’t been so sharp and reverberated all the way into her teeth.

She remembered asking Dolls if she should go to the hospital. “For stitches? Or something?”

“Hospitals are gonna ask a lot of questions,” Dolls reminded her as he helped her into a chair at their now-splintered kitchen table. Pock marks of bullet holes covered the wooden surface. Packing the wound with gauze and taping over it, Dolls said, “You’re gonna be okay. Keep pressure on it and the wrap clean and it’ll be okay.”

A second later, his phone rang. Wynonna. Both sisters were safe and so was the Homestead.

Crouching on the floor next to Waverly, Dolls examined the wound before nodding, satisfied with his triage. He then slung an arm under her shoulders to get her to a comfortable position on the couch. “Get some rest, then I’ll go check the perimeter.”

His hand covering her wrist, Dolls smiled. “You did good, Earp.”

After the door slammed shut behind him, Waverly was struck with how oddly quiet the Homestead was. For the first time since early this morning (minus her screaming “Willa!!” every 10 seconds or so), the Homestead was still.

Waverly didn’t want to be alone or “get some rest.” She felt around in her pockets, a section of her pants already stiff from dried blood. But she found her cell phone, undamaged from the attack.

An unread text from Nicole sat on the screen.

[Nicole says: “Hope you and your sisters are getting along okay”]

Oh God. Nicole.

Waverly glanced down her herself, her white sweater tattered and spackled with blood. Even worse was the rest of the living room. Windows shattered, bullet holes riddled in every surface, tufts of fluff wafted in the air from the couch and chairs. The living room and kitchen were both a literal wreck.

I can’t hide this from her.

But how do I explain this?

I’m just so tired. Tired of keeping everything in. I just… need to talk to someone.

Waverly’s finger found Nicole’s number before she could even stop herself. She winced as she switched hands to hold the phone to her left ear. Elbow akimbo and sticking off the sofa, Waverly’s right hand pressed as best it could against the bullet wound to keep the pressure on.

Bullet wound. I was shot. Oh God I got shot.

On the third ring, a warm voice answered.

[“Hey you!”]

Sighing with relief, Waverly struggled to find words. “Hey, I—I just—I was just—“

Keep it together, Earp.

The warmth chilled to worry. [“Waverly. What’s wrong?”]

There was a fluttering panic in Waverly’s throat at how terrible an idea this was and how close she was to just bursting into tears. But she was just so tired. Tired of holding everything in.

“So, I—I need to tell you something, Nicole. You have to—have to promise not to freak out…”

Oh good one. Now she probably thinks I’m breaking up with her.

[“Okayyyyy…”] Nicole sounded skeptical but played along.

“So there was—there was kind of a thing… at the Homestead…”

[“What kind of thing? A party? …A house party with psychos? You promised I was invited to the next one!”] Nicole started off serious but devolved into teasing. There was still a strain in her voice, though.

Waverly stared up at the ceiling and tried to gather her thoughts. “Um… sort of? No, that’s not it. Look, so I’m okay and Wynonna is okay and Willa is back—she’s okay, too—and Dolls is okay. We just—there were people… and they, uh… So Dolls and Wynonna and Willa took care of it and everything is okay but—“

[“Waverly.”] Nicole interrupted. [“You’ve said ‘okay’ like five times. Something that ‘okay’ usually means it isn’t. Please. What’s going on?”]

Sighing, Waverly muttered into her phone. “The Homestead was attacked.”

[“What??? What do you mean attacked?!”]

“We’re okay! Some sort of—I don’t know… government turf war? I don’t know. But Dolls and Wynonna took care of them—it.”

[“Did you call the police??”]

“No! No… we can’t, Nicole. There could be something—someone—dirty. We don’t know who. We gotta take care of it ourselves.” Waverly chewed her cheek and tried to suppress a groan. She had shifted her torso slightly and was rewarded with another sharp pain.

Oh God, what if it could be Nicole?

…really??

There was a long pause at the other end before Nicole sighed. [“…okay. I mean, I don’t like it, but I get it. As long as you’re safe…”]

Adjusting her right hand, Waverly noticed her fingers were starting to feel damp. She raised her hand above her eyes and took note of the smear of red across them before tucking the hand back at her side. This time, she did groan. “Uh… well…”

[“Waverly?”]

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

[“Waverly!”] Nicole’s voice was a warning.

“Okay!” Waverly scowled. She took a deep breath. “I—I got hit.”

[“What do you mean you ‘got hit?’”]

Cringing, Waverly said through her teeth, “Shot. I was… shot.”

[“Oh my God! Waverly!”]

“Shit! I meant—it—it was just a graze!”

[“Are you okay?”] An increase in volume along with stress.

Someone actually asked.

It was all Waverly could do not to just open the floodgates and dissolve into a puddle of exhausted tears. “No… no I’m not, Nicole. But—It just—Everything hurts and today sucks balls and I’m just—I’m about to… I don’t know…”

[“Are you going to the hospital? Because I will meet you there and—“]

“Nicole…”

[“—and I think there’s a specialist—I can’t remember her name but I will call them and make sure she’s—because you’re—“]

“Nicole!”

The rambling stopped immediately.

“Nicole… we can’t go to the hospital. Whoever did this might be looking for us there and—and we’re safer at the Homestead, okay? Just trust me, please? Dolls is taking care of me.” Waverly actually felt a warm sense of reassurance. For once, Dolls had been completely on Waverly’s side. And come through for her when she needed him.

[“I’m coming over.”]

Yes!

No! Wait! Oh God there are probably bodies everywhere and the house is a wreck and I’m a wreck and it might not be safe and—and—

“No, wait!” Waverly started to roll off the sofa but a sting made air hiss through her teeth. Her head was starting to throb again, along with her entire right side starting at her ribs.

Nicole pleaded. [“Waverly. Please let me see you. I’m your—I—I care about you and I need to know you’re all right. Please.”]

“I want to see you, too! But I don’t know if it’s safe and everything—everyone—is a mess and high strung and—please. Just… just wait.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone.

[“Can I—can you at least send me a picture? Because I am freaking out a little and I’d feel better just knowing that you’re—you’re—“]

“Okay,” Waverly interrupted. “Promise. Right now. And I’ll talk to you later when everything’s calmed down a little. Because I do want—need—to see you. Okay, Nicole?”

There was a long, jittery exhale on the other end. [“Okay, Waves.”]

“Miss you.”

[“I miss you too.”] Nicole’s tone was soft and there was a hint of shaky breathlessness that made Waverly feel fluttery (and finally in a good way).

With an exchange of goodbyes, they hung up. Waverly sighed and tapped over to SnapChat and opened the selfie camera. Other than deep circles under her eyes and her long hair fanned out in tangles on the pillow, Waverly didn’t look terrible (all things considered). She gave a weak smile and snapped a picture.

She then tried to hold the phone as far back at arm’s length as she could manage (a much harder feat). The surrounding chaos of the living room made it look like the war zone Waverly was trying to avoid. Snapping a photo of her wound, Waverly angled away to crop out the bled-through bandage. It just looked like a small scratch on her side.

[Waverly says: “See? I only look a little like shit”]

[Nicole says: “Liar. You are still beautiful <3”]

[Nicole says: “Thank you, Waves. I feel better. Take care of your self”]

The Earp sisters eventually made it back to the Homestead just as the sun was setting. Willa busied herself with cleaning up. There was still something about her demeanor that made Waverly want to apologize or help or do something to make her happy. Possibly the odd, furtive glances Willa kept shooting her.

The side glances intensified when Wynonna sat down with Waverly at the kitchen table. They were joined by Dolls. Waverly had managed a shower and a change of clothes, though the wound at her side was already starting to seep blood down her side.

She felt awkward sitting at the table with her shirt hiked up almost above her sports bra with Dolls’ hot breath on her ribs. He explained to Wynonna how to wrap the injury and then mumbled about how he was going to do a final sweep of the perimeter and come back.

A little trial and error, but Wynonna figured it out pretty quickly. Dabbing at a fresh gauze pad with antiseptic, she gave Waverly an encouraging smile. “Dolls said you kicked some ass with your shotgun.”

Squinting skeptically, Waverly tilted her head. “When? Before or after I got shot?” She mumbled, “I wish everyone would stop telling me to hide when shit hits the fan.”

“We just want you safe, babygirl,” Wynonna replied. She reached over to apply the pad. “Put pressure here.”

Waverly hissed at the pain. It was hard to see over her hands/breast in her way. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

The older Earp winked and gave a slanted smile. “Dudes dig scars.”

Hmmmm…

Before she could stop herself, Waverly found herself asking: “Do chicks?”

For a moment, there was confusion in Wynonna’s eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the door slammed. Dolls had returned.

It was worse than they thought. These human mercenaries had top-shelf gear and were ex-military. And their target was Deputy Marshal Xavier Dolls.

There was definitely a traitor in their midst. Someone who had infiltrated Black Badge or Judge Cryderman’s office or both. And there was no way of knowing how far to the top the conspiracy went.

Willa returned and interrupted the BBD crew’s worried theorizing with a doozy of a request: “I need you to tell me everything you know about Bobo Del Rey.”

“Do you remember something?” Wynonna asked, eyes crinkling with concern.

“I don’t know. But I want to,” Willa replied. She chewed her cheek, her blue eyes distant.

Dolls raised a hand, his jacket whispering with the movement. “I can help with that. We can try a few techniques.” He started counting off his fingers. “There’s guided imagery, hypnosis, even some drug-induced—“

Willa interrupted him. “I’ll do it.” She shot Wynonna a significant glance, her mouth a hard line. “Whatever it takes.”

“Okay,” Dolls said, head bobbing forward in agreement. “We’ll start in the morning.” When Wynonna started to balk, he gave her a shrug. “It’s important, right? And you’ll be with her every step of the way.”

The former Heir gave begrudging nod. Smiling, Wynonna patted at Waverly’s injured side and ran a finger through her sister’s hair. That motherly glint had finally come back. “You. Get some rest, yea? I’ll be up in a minute with a bottle of the good stuff.”

Exhaling in a laugh, Waverly narrowed her eyes in disapproval. “Wynonna…”

“Fine, the bottle’s for me. Just a shot for you, then. And a couple painkillers.” Brunette locks tossed as Wynonna gestured at the stairs with her head. “Bed. Now.”

Waverly nodded and accepted the dismissal, though that fluttering resentment returned when Willa took her chair at the table. The two older sisters clustered together carefully as Wynonna started from the beginning.

With a sigh, Waverly crawled into her bed properly for the first time in a few days. The exhaustion from the day gave way to a deep yawn. She felt it all the way down her shoulders until it met the throbbing ache at her side.

Before falling asleep, Waverly pulled out her cell phone.

[Waverly says: “Dolls cleared the Homestead though he wants us to stick close tonight”]

Thankfully, Nicole answered immediately. She’d been so quick to respond all day. So sweet and attentive.

[Nicole says: “Tell me you’re okay again”]

Waverly smile was a slanted, crinkled thing.

[Waverly says: “I’m fine, I swear”]

[Nicole says: “Okay. What about now”]

[Waverly says: “Still fine”]

[Nicole says: “Are you sure?”]

[Waverly says: “YES OMG”]

[Nicole says: “You were SHOT”]

[Waverly says: “I was GRAZED”]

There was a pause. A series of “…” appeared and reappeared for close to 30 seconds.

[Nicole says: “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you”]

[Waverly says: “Me either”]

[Waverly says: “I’m okay. Honestly <3”]

[Nicole says: “<3”]

[Waverly says: “I’m gonna go to sleep. About to pass out. Come by tomorrow?”]

[Nicole says: “First thing. Should I bring breakfast?”]

[Waverly says: “Please”]

[Nicole says: “Any requests?”]

[Waverly says: “I’d kill for a breakfast taco”]

[Nicole says: “You got it, baby”]

[Waverly says: “Thanks, baby”]

[Nicole says: “Sweet dreams <3”]

[Waverly says: “Definitely”]

She fell asleep with her phone on her chest. Waverly was dimly aware of Wynonna coming in to drop off a glass of water. She felt a kiss to her forehead and a pat to her shoulder, but it could have been her imagination.

The next sound Waverly heard was the doorbell.

Nicole was here.

#wynonna earp #waverly earp #nicole haught #wayhaught #fanfic #wynonna earp fanfic #willa earp #xavier dolls #canon dialogue #road to purgatory #texts #fluff #drama #angst #dorks in love #not just friends #but what i want most

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thatswhywemusyc · 6 years

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SINGLE REVIEW: “Universe” and “Smile For Me” Matt Olo-Whaanga ft. KJ Apa

We have entered a musical period where real instrumentals, in songs, are slowly becoming a thing of that past. There’s a trend towards electronic instrumentation and rap infiltrating every single genre that has led to most artists sounding the same. Taylor Swift sounds like Katy Perry who sounds like Maroon 5, who sounds like that new boyband Why Don’t We.

It’s really easy to become jaded listening to anything popular these days, so, when an artist (or two) come along and really show musicianship, you know it’s something special.

Meet newcomers KJ Apa and Matt Olo-Whaanga. With the help of Tupa’i Keneti Apa, KJ’s father, they invent, dare I say it, an entirely new genre. It’s a little bit indie, and a lot of rock, courtesy of KJ, an electric guitar savant.

If the name KJ Apa sounds familiar, congratulations, you are caught up on pop culture. KJ plays Archie Andrews on CW’s Riverdale, but you won’t hear any of Archie’s derivative pop music here. Instead, KJ and Olo-Whaanga collaborate to bring visual lyrics to life with complex compositions.

We know that Olo-Whaanga and KJ have worked together on at least four singles. The first two feature lyrics by Timena Apa, KJ’s sister, and a wizard with words. This time, however, KJ and Olo-Whaanga took a stab at writing. While their styles are unique there is an emotional and visual undercurrent that runs through everything they release, no matter who the lyricist is.

KJ wrote both the lyrics and music to “Universe”. The song takes the listener on a journey through a combination of terror and awe. With lyrics like “The elusive sublime, the tragedy of our mind,” it’s easy to relate to, no matter what you’re going through.

Musically, the intro resembles a lot of current indie rock, but also includes an 80s rock edge. The only comparison I can kind of draw is to an up and coming DC band, Skyline Hotel. But, even then, once KJ plays the guitar solo, it’s unequivocally brand new.

Lyrically, you might see it as questioning religious beliefs with ideas about needing something bigger than ourselves to exist, running through the entire song. You might hear it as a cry for help in holding onto any sort of belief system through trying times. Or, maybe you see it as just about the idea of change in general.

A good song has to be universally relatable. Most artists do that by writing, in your face, love songs. And while there are two lines that could be talking about a romantic partner, “I know it’s hard for you to believe/ I guess you’re seeing something different to me” it’s abstract enough to not overtake the entire piece. I really appreciate that.

Now, “Smile For Me” follows the same unusual structure, actually, all their songs do. Two verses lead into a pre-chorus and then a chorus. The lyrics finish off with a word or phrase repeating throughout the instrumental section that ends the song. This isn’t an easy formula to pull off, mostly because it relies so heavily on the musical arrangement. However, that’s not a worry here. KJ’s compositional style (along with T’upai Keneti adding piano where he sees fit) is what makes this all work.

Anyway, back to this song, specifically.

Whereas KJ’s lyrics have an abstract poetic tone, Olo-Whaanga utilizes a literal style while still including the same visual and emotive elements. “Smile for Me,” as far as I can tell, follows the story of someone lying about an aspect (or aspects) of who they are and the reminder that it’s important to rely on strong relationships to get you through the pain. “I don’t wanna be the one to tell you why/ But I don’t wanna let you live a lie”

Again, this is relatable on many levels. Everyone is lying about something to someone. But it’s always important to have an outlet. A person that reminds you that you can get through the pain. And, if you don’t have that one person, maybe the song can act as a proxy.

Musically, there is an eastern tone mixed with an eerie metal instrumental. One thing that sets KJ and Olo-Whaanga apart, (if you couldn’t tell by their last names) both boys are Samoan. So, unlike many current artists, they aren’t culturally appropriating, but rather, culturally appreciating. They fashion an amalgamation of many different genres, and it just works.

Artists and musicians like these two don’t come around very often. That makes it important for journalists, like me, to point them out. I can’t wait for a full EP or album.

In an interview with GQ, KJ mentioned he has a project during the break of Riverdale. Is it selfish to hope that project is working on a full album and not a new role? Probably. Oh well, I’m gonna hope anyway. Now more than ever, we need good, unique music. KJ and Olo-Whaanga have made it clear: they deliver.

Reviewed by Ariella Laichas-Malamud

Get Connected:

KJ Apa: Twitter | Instagram

Matt Olo-Whaanga: Instagram

Universe: Spotify | Youtube | Amazon Music | iTunes

Smile For Me: Spotify | Youtube | Amazon Music | iTunes

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justonesongmore · 7 years

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XXII: 1922

On Cavalier Adoptions, Damned Conventions, and the Inertia of the Dispossessed

1. A. C. (Eck) Robertson: “Sallie Gooden”

The story goes that the two Texans entered New York City in full fancy dress, 35-year-old Eck Robertson in a spangled cowboy outfit, and his 75-year-old partner Henry C. Gilliland in old Confederate Army togs, his own. They went straight to the Victor offices and insisted on cutting a record; whether because the talent manager thought he could sell it, or just to get the hicks out of the office, “Sallie Gooden” b/w “Arkansas Traveler” was the result. “Traveler” was the duet, “Gooden” a solo piece by Eck: and if it’s not exactly the first country record (studio professionals had been cutting Ozark reels and string-band minstrelsy for years), it’s the first made by genuine rural Southerners. Thirteen variations in three minutes: Robertson rarely recorded again, but he laid a pattern for all old-time to follow.

2. Ory’s Sunshine Orchestra: “Society Blues”

Meanwhile, the first genuine Black New Orleans jazz records were recorded in the sleepy backwater then still becoming the cinematic boomtown of Los Angeles, California, to be sold out of a store also owned by the proprietor of the recording studio. Edward “Kid” Ory was a successful Creole jazz trombonist whose band had included King Oliver and a young cornetist named Armstrong back in the Crescent City; he had decamped to the West Coast after Storyville’s closure in 1917, and the band he put together in the Golden State was, if not the toast of Rampart Street, respectable. Ory would wend to Chicago within the next few years, where he would fall in with old Orleanian friends, but that’s a story for another time. “Society Blues,” halfway between classy and kidding, is mellow as a porch conversation.

3. Alberta Hunter: “Down Hearted Blues”

Another legendary figure of twentieth-century music bows onto the stage. Alberta Hunter, who was born and bred in Memphis but made her name in Chicago, is of the generation of performers who, like her fellow Southern-born, Northern-famed peers Ethel Waters and Florence Mills, fell halfway between the stools of cabaret and the blues, and was nearly forgotten by a history that prized the blues over cabaret and (which would come to mean the same thing) men over women. She had already toured Europe to great acclaim by the time she settled down to a Harlem club gig and cut this immortal blues, co-written with pianist (and possibly sometime lover) Lovie Austin. The following year, the century’s most famous blues shouter would notch it as her first smash record, but Hunter’s sly, sashaying take emphasizes its essential theatricality.

4. Marion Harris: “I’m Just Wild about Harry”

The biggest hit from Shuffle Along, the all-Black musical which took New York by storm in 1921 and kickstarted a decade of Black excellence, “I’m Just Wild about Harry” took a year to get onto record. Partly the delay served to deracinate the tune, to transform it from an unembarrassed declaration of Black love (it was originally written as a waltz, in an even more overt challenge to racial norms) to a raggy burst of pep that anyone, in these dance-band days, could turkey-trot or whistle: F. Scott Fitzgerald coined “the Jazz Age” in 1922, the perfect descriptor of such cavalier white adoption of Black forms. Marion Harris had always sung Black, sometimes exaggeratedly so, but only the broad syncopation and extra pep of the last few choruses gestures in that direction here; she simply sounds American.

5. Ed Gallagher and Al Shean: “Oh! Mister Gallagher and Mister Shean”

The background hum to popular culture in the 1920s—as it had been since the 1880s—was vaudeville, the stage circuit mechanism by which the entire country absorbed roughly the same songs, dances, slapstick, patter, and acrobatics as the big cities, though delayed. Ephemeral by design, but calcified enough that the right act could get forty years out of the same routine, the ethos of vaudeville was desperation; you never knew what would work, so you played as broad as possible. Gallagher and Shean, an Irishman and a German Jew respectively, reportedly loathed each other, but their shared song, as tightly structured as a sonnet, was bigger than either of them: they could and did swap out verses every time, which makes this double-sided record’s domestic-abuse and skin-color jokes revealing as an indication of what sold.

6. Jack Buchanan: “And Her Mother Came Too”

While the Broadway theatrical songwriting machine was entering its second decade of eminence, its West End equivalent was rather more sedate. The young British songwriter who posed the greatest challenge to the imported Berlins, Kerns, and Gershwins was Welshman Ivor Novello. “Keep the Home Fires Burning” had been a wartime favorite, but it was in the 1920s that his songwriting really bloomed. This entry, on the surface a mere one-note mother-in-law joke in age-old music-hall tradition, has a more nuanced harmonic structure than strictly necessary, and especially given eternal Drones Club habitué Jack Buchanan’s urbane, ever so slightly camp delivery, the joke destabilizes, becoming less about a too-enthusiastic chaperone and more like a Wodehousian parody of Vincent O’Sullivan’s classic 1912 Decadent novella The Good Girl, about a simpleton increasingly entangled by a family of moral vampires.

7. Sara Martin: “Tain’t Nobody's Bus’ness if I Do”

On the right hand side of the label is printed the legend “Contralto Solo / Piano Accomp. by T. Waller.” And so another of the giants of early jazz piano bobs to the surface here, accompanying Miss Sara Martin, one of the half-dozen or so essential blues-not-blues singers of the decade, on a song that will become an urban blues standard, evolving in many directions over the course of the century. But here, in its original ragtime-blues form, written by African-American songwriter Porter Grainger and Mamie Smith sideman Everett Robbins, “Nobody’s Business” is a perfect marriage of defiant, antisocial (because society is dangerous) blues tradition and Tin Pan Alley hokum, setting the template for the theatrical blues tradition of the 1930s and 40s which songwriters like Harold Arlen or Hoagy Carmichael would turn into vernacular American pop.

8. Lucille Hegamin and her Blue Flame Syncopaters: “Aggravatin’ Papa (Don’t You Try to Two-Time Me)”

In fact, some white songwriters were there already. Composer J. Russel Robinson, a Hoosier, was a ragtime pianist who had supplied W. C. Handy’s publishing company, and lyricist Roy Turk was a New York native whose slangy, sentimental songs helped to define the Jazz Age. Three years earlier, “Aggravatin’ Papa” might have been a Coon song—the Southern setting, the stereotypically trifling man, the understated threats of violence could all have been delivered by a blackface singer for laughs—but instead Black singers and players adopted it and turned it into a blues standard, starting with Lucille Hegamin. Her delivery, using the blues trick of repeating the end of a line where a solo would otherwise go, is cheerful, almost delighted to tear into the juicy threats she’s making, while her Syncopaters swoon woozily around her.

9. Trixie Smith and the Jazz Masters: “My Man Rocks Me (With One Steady Roll)”

The confluence of the words “rock” and “roll” in such a way that makes it obvious they were already conjoined in a familiar phrase decades before they got pinned to a backbeat is perhaps the least noteworthy thing about this record. Trixie Smith was a genuine Southern Black singer, born and raised in Georgia, but not a gutbucket blues singer: her upbringing had been genteel, and her singing, as here, tended toward the light and winsome. Nevertheless, “My Man Rocks Me” is among the first great single-entendre blues records, so hot (though entirely by implication) that a parental warning logo would have had to be slapped on it in the CD era. Written by Chicago-based songwriter and publisher J. Berni Barbour, it’s performed here at such a languorous drag, with a deep-stroking trombone, that it’s practically tantric.

10. Eva Tanguay: “I Don’t Care”

In 1922 she was forty-four and long past her wasp-waisted prime; but back when she was the chaotic, hair-flowing, man-eating, lung-bursting Quebecois-born sensation of the Naughty Oughts, she hadn’t bothered to step before a recording horn, and so this is all we have of her: her signature song, some fifteen years late. But if this is a shadow of her former self, what must she have been like in her strength? Her voice is blown out, her tempos all scattered as the studio musicians attempt to keep up with her lurches from faux-maudlin verses to the roaring, flippant chorus, still as strong a fuck-you to the propriety, daintiness, and demureness of the ideal woman as it ever was. If the fuck-you sounds rather more ghostly today, it isn’t because women are expected to care any less.

11. Georgel: “La garçonne”

But the “I-Don’t-Care Girl” had been a model for a whole generation of women now reaching adulthood who disdained the voluminous skirts and hairstyles of their mothers. The flapper, as she was known in English, had her equivalent in every nation: but when Victor Margueritte’s sensationalistic lesbian 1922 French novel La garçonne was bowdlerized into English the same year, it was called The Bachelor Girl. The topical song of the same name by Vincent Scotto (lyrics by a pair of hacks) sneers at women who bob their hair, dress in mannish attire, and choose not to flirt with men, predicting a lonely, cruel dotage for any woman who doesn’t embrace motherhood. Georgel’s rendition was a hit, but the last verse was often omitted, and the androgynous garçonne’s sleek, stylish, and damn-the-conventions poise became a decade’s aspiration.

12. Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra: “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise”

Having come into a minor fortune on the unexpected success of “Swanee,” the young, prolific, and ambitious composer George Gershwin soon found himself writing music for George White’s Scandals, meant as stiff competition for Ziegfeld’s Follies. The first (and perhaps only) immortal song from that series of revues, “Stairway to Paradise” was the young man’s first compositional triumph, a winding musical ascent to match the twin curved staircases in the stage show, with blues harmonics to accentuate its modernity and jazz it away from typical revue politesse. The orchestra pit for the number was directed by celebrity conductor Paul Whiteman, and his later recording with his Orchestra, leaving out the less-impressive lyrics, is one of the great dance-band records of the era, sweetly winging Gershwin’s hypermelodic expression of that rarest of emotions in pop music—joy.

13. Conchita Piquer: “El florero”

Among the many sensations which took place seemingly nightly on New York stages in the early 1920s, the debut of a sixteen-year-old Valencian soubrette in drag as a flower-selling boy in El gato montés (The Wild Cat), a successful Spanish operetta undergoing a respectable Broadway run, has largely been forgotten in English-language circles. But the tale goes that a representative from Columbia rushed backstage during the intermission to sign her to a two-year recording contract, only to discover that not only didn’t she speak English, she had only a vague grasp of Castilian. Thirty years later Concha Piquer would be the grand dame of Spanish copla, a long-reigning movie star and one of the most recognizable Spanish-language singers in the world; Broadway’s ability to generate stars without even noticing was at its peak in the 1920s.

14. Baiano: “Eu só quero é beliscá”

In February of 1922, the Teatro Municipal of São Paulo hosted a week of art exhibitions, lectures, concerts, and poetry readings called the Semana de Arte Moderna: it was ground zero for Brazilian modernism, an explosive, controversial, and thoroughly regional rejection of European norms in favor of miscegenated, tropical Brasilidade. But the middle-class intellectuals and artists promoted by the Semana were conflicted about the street-level sambas and batuques with which the urban masses—not to mention hustling commercial songwriters—expressed themselves, just as Anglo modernists were ambivalent or worse towards jazz. This cateretê (tr. “I Just Want a Pinch”) by Eduardo Souto, with its dense paulista slang, faux-tribal rhythms, and anti-authoritarian stance (the song’s satirical object is cops shaking down street vendors) was just as modernist as Oswald de Andrade’s poems or Tarsila do Amaral’s paintings.

15. Alcides Briceño y Jorge Añez: “La soldadera”

Belisario de Jesús García was a soldier in the Mexican Revolution who fought on the side of the Carrancista revolutionaries who murdered Emiliano Zapata; the same year, he published his first song, “La soldadera.” The word literally means “the woman who receives payment for taking care of a soldier,” and could refer to a wife or domestic or (more likely) camp follower, but in the Mexican Revolution it was applied to the hundreds and thousands of women who took up arms in the cause, whether perforce or otherwise. This version of García’s imitation corrido was recorded in New York by a Panamanian-Colombian duo who would sing anything in Spanish regardless of nationality, with studio hacks on instrumentation; despite which, it’s been wisely adopted by Mexico as one of the great early records of Mexican vernacular pop.

16. Carlos Gardel: “El tango de la muerte”

Not the “Tango de la muerte” written by the little-known Horacio Mackintosh in 1917, which is an instrumental; this tango was written (music and lyrics) by Alberto Navión, a French-born, Uruguay-raised composer for the Argentine theater whose work was often uneven; the sainete which introduced this song has been dismissed as mediocre, but Gardel getting his pipes on any song elevates it. And in fact, a song of typically Latin despair which may have been risible or banal in the theater is transformed into a throbbing report from the depths of depression on record. Bounded by the strict strums of guitarists Guillermo Barbieri and José Ricardo, Gardel’s voice moors in self-pitying baritone melancholy, and flutters up to keening tenor remorse. He wants to die, and only the milonga (criollo dancehall, birthplace of tango) keeps him alive.

17. La Niña de los Peines: “Tango de la tontona”

It is a great piece of foolishness that she has not appeared here before: her first record was cut in 1905, when she was fifteen. But in 1922, the distinguished Spanish composer Manuel de Falla and a young, scarcely-known poet named García Lorca organized the first Concurso de Cante Jondo, or Deep Song Contest, in Granada, the Andalusian city which could reasonably claim to be among the birthplaces of flamenco. Pastora Pavón, already at thirty-two the greatest cantaora of all time, was the only woman on the judging panel. This song (set to the relatively new “tango” palo) addressing a foolish, heartbreaking girl was an early favorite of her repertoire, and one of a series of records she cut in 1922, accompanied by guitarist Luis Molina. It only hints at the astonishing depths of her voice.

18. El Tenazas de Morón: “Yo he andaito la Francia (Seguiriyas de Silverio)”

But the great revelation of the Granada Concurso was Diego Bermúdez of the Sevillian town Morón de la Frontera, a septuagenarian who had retired from flamenco singing in the nineteenth century after having been stabbed: flamenco was once a disreputable, dangerous field. His archaic style was received rapturously by the musicologists and mystic nationalists in the audience, who considered it a direct link to the authentic Roma origins of flamenco song as represented by the legendary prototypical cantaor Silverio Franconetti, and as opposed to modern syncretic theatricalized flamenco, sullied by commercialism and mass media. On being (re)discovered, Bermúdez (nicknamed Tenazas, or Tongs) recorded several platters of quavering, ancient flamenco, a set which Falla would carry with him into exile. But his moment in the sun was short-lived; the following year, El Tenazas was laid to rest.

19. Naftule Brandwein: “Kallarash”

We have heard him before on records credited to other bandleaders, particularly Abe Schwartz, but this is the moment where the foremost klezmer clarinetist of the era before anyone called the music klezmer struck out on his own. Born into a family of Hasidic musicians in what was then called Polish Galicia (present-day Ukraine) and having emigrated to the US in 1908 at nineteen, Brandwein was a showman, even a showboat, who would sometimes perform with a self-promoting neon sign around his neck, or play with his back to the audience so as not to give away his proprietary fingering techniques. “Kallarash,” subtitled “A Bridal Dedication,” is a slow-then-fast dance memorializing a town in Romanian Bessarabia. It’s a perfect showcase for his overtly emotional, flashily sentimental style, a virtuosic display for a Hendrix of the clarinet.

20. A. Z. Idelsohn und Männerchor: “Hava Nagila”

Abraham Zvi Idelsohn, born in present-day Latvia, worked as a cantor in Europe and South Africa before emigrating to Palestine in the years of the Second Aliyah, when European Jews fled pogroms in the Russian Empire in the hope of establishing a Zionist state in Palestine. Idelsohn’s musical training led him to take an interest in the Jewish music of Palestine, and his ethnomusicological work is some of the most comprehensive in the field. In setting his own words to an old melody traced to the diaspora in the Ukraine, he is considered the author of “Hava Nagila,” and when the German label Polydor, then making one of the first music-industry attempts to comprehensively document folkloric music, invited him to record some of his collection, he conducted a choir in one of the era’s folk-art hybrids.

21. Fisk University Jubilee Singers: “I Ain’t Goin’ to Study War No More”

The ancient Jewish poetic image, given in the prophet Isaiah, of reshaping implements of warfare into implements of agriculture is one of the most powerful in all religion: and one of its most beautiful expressions was the work of anonymous (to us, if not to Heaven) men and women enslaved in the southern United States, probably less than two hundred years ago. As with most art made by Black Americans, there are double and treble meanings to “Down by the Riverside”— the Ohio was perhaps more salient than the Jordan, whether the one in Israel or the one in Bunyan, and ending the study of war doesn’t necessarily mean forgoing violent struggle anymore than the end of school is the end of work. Even the pious, unhurried reading given by four Fisk men here contains multitudes.

22. Feodor Chaliapin: “Ey, ukhnem!”

First attested by Russian composer and folk song-collector Mily Balakirev in 1866, the title of this work chant could be transliterated “Hey, Heave To!” but became known in English as “The Song of the Volga Boatmen,” thanks to the widespread popularity of Russian basso Feodor Chaliapin, who toured constantly in Europe and the Americas starting in 1901. It became his signature song in solo concerts, as his rich voice raised in the cry of the vodoliv, or leader of a gang of burlaks (dispossessed peasants with nothing but muscle and the collective force of their own inertia to sell) who were hired to tow barges down the Volga, from Moscow to the Caspian Sea, in the ages before ships could run under their own power. That Russian solution of throwing raw population at a problem would recur.

#1920s

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sigma7 · 7 years

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give him the stick DON’T give him the stick

The good news: the Fenslerfilms versions of the classic GI Joe PSAs have been converted to HD!

youtube

The bad news: some Wikipedia buzzkill has decided that the exhaustive description of the PSAs on the Fenslerfilm Wikipedia page is just not encyclopedic-enough to retain on the page itself. It’s relegated to the history of the page, but just to insure the survival of these laser-precise summaries, I’m including them below. Given a year for each, I could not write better summaries.

#1: You're Not My Friend A young boy gets lost at a carnival while checking out a shooting tent. He bumps into Alpine, who confuses the boy with, "Mi mi mi mi," noises, in a send-up of the poor animation of characters' speaking mouths. Alpine quickly adds, "Naw, I'm just kiddin' with ya." The boy's friends return and ask, "Hey man, who's that weird dude you're talking to, bro?" The boy awkwardly says to Alpine, "My friends are here, oh cool, s-s-see you later." Alpine's face then strains as he appears to fart.

#2: Blanco Nino Some children are playing football. One of them is tackled roughly to the ground. He discovers that his nose is bleeding and asks for someone to take him to the hospital. Another kid turns to him and says "you sure about that?" Footloose shadows over the boys and says authoritatively, "Nice catch, blanco niño, but too bad your ass got saaaacked!" After which Footloose appears, through video editing techniques, to tackle the boy.

#3: Body Massage Two boys on bikes stop in front of a downed live wire on the road. One suggests that they "launch" over it. Roadblock approaches and asks, "Who wants a body massage?" He casts the wire away as he sings softly to himself in a Barry White-style baritone ("Mr. Body Massage Machine...GO!"). One of the boys then asks "Eeeeeh, what the hell?" Roadblock proudly responds, "Body massage!"

#4: Fire On Your Sleeve Two boys are camping. While putting more logs on the campfire, one says, "Speaking of logs, I'm going to take the Cosby Kids down to the river," then one of the boy's sleeves catches fire. Spirit runs in speaking in a Native Indian language (sampled from Brocket 99). He wraps the boy in a blanket and rolls him on the ground for an excessively long time. Spirit lectures the boy again in his strange language. The other boy asks, "You didn't take anything out of our tent, did ya?" Spirit gives an answer (once again in vernacular) and gives a slight nod.

#5: Ice Three boys race onto a frozen lake, the first one crying, "Last one there's a penis pump!", while the other two attempt to catch up, shouting, "That's not fair!" over each other (a theme which continues throughout this PSA). The first boy slides on the ice ("Holy cow, I'm totally going so fast. Aw, fuck!") and then slips, cracking the ice. While the other two attempt to walk out to rescue the boy, Snow Job approaches on skis. The two boys ask for help, but Snow Job launches a foul-mouthed tirade at them in a Cockney accent. When the children reach out with a stick, Snow Job approves ("Give him the stick."), then immediately contradicts himself ("Don't give him the stick!"). When they look at him and reply simultaneously ("We're sorry," and "Do you know my dad?"). Snow Job then sings a loud "Oh" to an A note in a bass-baritone voice.

#6: Kids Fry Two children are wakened by a smoke alarm. They approach the door, but Barbecue arrives at the window, letting out a series of vocoded noises. He opens his palm toward one of the kids and releases an energy pulse, disintegrating the child. The other boy looks at Barbecue in bewilderment, then succumbs to the same fate.

#7: Porkchop Sandwiches Two boys are in a kitchen. Their dubbed voices make them sound like they are mentally challenged. One of the boys turns on the stove and puts a frying pan on it. The other boy, who is standing in the doorway to the kitchen eating an apple, says to him, "You don't know how to cook anything." The boy standing in front of the stove says "Yeah I do." The flame from the burner ignites curtains which are hanging near the stove, causing the boy who turned it on to start stuttering in panic. Blowtorch runs in, shouting "porkchop sandwiches!" This line is one of the most frequently quoted by fans, and Fensler has until recently sold T-shirts sporting the phrase. He arrives at the kitchen door and in a panic-ridden voice orders the children: "Oh shit, get the fuck out of here! What are you doing? Go, get the fuck out of here, you stupid idiot! Fuck, we're all dead! Get the fuck out!" His panicked tone of voice contrasts oddly with his calm body language. Outside, he tells them, "My God, did that smell good!" prompting a stream of gibberish from one of the boys. One of the boys says something along the lines of, "Detector no go and you tell me, do things, I done runnin'..." This is met with Blowtorch's staring toward the camera, followed by a closeup of that same stare.

#8: Slip A boy is standing on the edge of a cliff, and his friend runs off toward the woods shouting, "Mom, Dad, come here! You gotta see this! This is so cool—" The cliff edge the boy is standing on then gives way, and the boy falls into the sea, screaming, "Shiiiiii-(t)" as the cliff crumbles beneath him. The PSA cuts off abruptly at this point, lasting only nine seconds in total.

#9: Belch Kids playing baseball get into a heated argument over whether a runner is safe or out. Cutter (apparently drunk) arrives and challenges one of the boys to what is apparently a belching contest (represented by the voice-actors as a lengthy vocal fry vocalization). The boy initially demurs, suggesting a different kid as an alternative participant. Cutter refuses, explaining: "Because I already had him. That's right, kids, I already had him." The boy reluctantly agrees to play, and after about 32 seconds of "uhhhhhh" belching-noises from both, the boy cannot do it anymore and concedes defeat, but Cutter continues in a trance-like state for another 40 seconds until the PSA ends, with an excessively long final note, lasting about 20 seconds, on the chorus of "G. I. Joooooooooooooe..."

#10: Bus Rider A boy and a girl high on medicine cabinet drugs and/or possibly alcohol go into the kitchen to get some more, with the boy saying, "Yeah, we should totally hit it again but I get first dibs on it." Doc appears in the window singing a dancehall song. The boy joins him in a bizarre high-pitched voice until it ends. Doc repeats an approximation of "Sunshine dey yah, a time fi di bus ride," in nearly indecipherable patois. Based on the song "Fun Time Deh Ya" by Night Rider.

#11: There's No Retard In Team Kids playing soccer accost their goalkeeper for failing to stop a shot ("There's no retard in team!"). Flint approaches and gives the kids a bewildering account of the day's international news. The news is as follows, "Damage to the base is said to be heavy and the Israeli jets are reported to have made it back to their headquarters." The team scores and while celebrating Flint returns and his news report continues: "A 49-year-old unidentified man went berserk last night, opening fire with a 12-gauge shotgun in a crowded downtown restaurant... Fighting broke out overnight between rival factions along the Israeli-Syrian border. Initial reports claim the Israeli fighters bombed a guerrilla base, kill—" with the "G.I. Joe" chorus ending, cutting Flint off in mid-sentence. The news announcements were sampled from "Segue (II)" off New Power Generation's 1995 album Exodus (Track 15). The same samples were also used on Megadeth's "The Scorpion" from the 2004 album The System Has Failed, the Spin Doctors' "What Time Is It," Chamillionaire's song "The Morning News," off his 2007 album, Ultimate Victory, and Jonathan Coulton's song "Shop Vac." The announcements can also be heard in Cowboy Bebop's "Session 5: Ballad of Fallen Angels", playing on a radio in the background during Annie's store scene; the video game Grand Theft Auto's in-game radio station "Head Radio"; the Sega Dreamcast game Shenmue 2, during the music track "Gifts"; in the background of episode 1 of Californication; and in the game Fahrenheit, where it can be faintly heard among static on a restaurant's radio. This also played in a radio news report in the movie "XIII".

#12: Car Accident While riding bikes without lights or reflectors, two boys narrowly avoid an accident with Dusty's jeep. He crashes and runs over to the boys with helicopter noises in the background, bellowing a butch version of the "Game Over" theme from Sega Rally Championship ("Game Over Yeaaahhhhhh!") to the boys.

#13: Pink Purse A boy talking in ebonics jumps a gap at a building site and a sound effect plays, presumably because the pit shown is far too wide for a child to jump across without supernatural assistance. Before completing the gap, he tells his companion "It's just eee threasy (three easy) steps, just flip it, stick it, and see you later bye!" The young girl is hesitant to do the same. He exhorts her to try, telling her "You better bring it." Lady Jaye approaches and asks them, "Kids? Did you happen to see a pink... um, I wanna say, vinyl purse around here somewhere? ...I'm just dying to get my cigarettes." The boy reels back, protesting that he hasn't seen any purse, but the scene slows down in the middle of his sentence in order to poke fun at the low quality of inbetweening in the spot, showing a loss of volume in the boy's head in different frames. The girl responds in a peculiar manner; she appears to slow down time to the point where her animation frames (four in total) are played for several seconds each. On the last frame, she lets out a surprising "Bah!" sound. The film ends with a shot of Lady Jaye smiling nervously.

#14: Motorcycle A boy named Eric is being talked to by a stranger off-screen, who is attempting to give important life advice to the boy. He talks at breakneck speed, and when Eric fails to pay attention, the man drives off, annoyed. The monologue is as follows: "Now you listen to me, Eric. You don't blow your money on those comic books, you understand? They don't do you a damned bit of good, and the nude mags, you're gonna be inheriting mine when you're 16 anyway. Now look, the junk food and the candy just rots your teeth, gives you bad breath, and the girls run like hell. Stay the hell away from buying any rock TV shirts, or hip hop gear, or anything like that. Arcade games—pick out one that you can do, okay? ONE that you can do as opposed to a whole bunch of them that you don't know what the hell you're doing. Techno music just puts a hole in your brain an... are, are you listening to me? Look at me when I'm talking to you!" At this point, the man drives away and Wild Bill approaches on a motorcycle. He treats Eric and Eric's friend to a confusing, tone-deaf and completely non sequitur rendition of Arlo Guthrie's Motorcycle Song. Perhaps the most confusing aspect is that Eric's friend appears to morph after the stranger drives away. He was clearly an Eric clone, but takes on a much darker complexion and different clothes by the time Wild Bill arrives. This friend later attests that he's "about to putdapressabutdawutdawiddaman." Wild Bill continues to sing when Eric shrugs his shoulders saying that he doesn't know what he's doing, but gets cut off by him singing "I just wanna ride my motorcy..." then pauses for a second to say the remaining "...cle."

#15: Help Computer A boy approaches a dog to pet it saying, "Aw, hell no, what's up, dog?", but the dog reacts violently, causing the boy to back away. Mutt arrives and says, "Hey kid, I'm a computer! Stop all the downloadin'!" as the boy steps back from the dog. The dog leaves. Mutt puts his hands on the boy's shoulders and asks him to, "Help computer." The boy explains, "I don't know much about computers, other than, other than the one we got at my house, and my mom put a couple of games on there and I play 'em." Mutt, either annoyed by this or so angered that his software malfunctions, replies with a garbled robotic message from the NBC series NewsRadio.[19] The sound byte is specifically from season 3, episode 24 entitled "Space". It is the sound that Dave's artificially intelligent chair makes when it is being shut down against its will.

#16: Swimming Two kids are swimming in a lake (one splashing the other shouting "You like it, you love it, you need it!") but a thunderstorm develops. One kid gets out but the other stays in. Deep Six rises from the water, surprising the boy who's still in the water (shouting an exaggerated "Oh yosh!") and shepherds him onto land. The boys are terrified as Deep Six's protection suit gives him muffled speech so it is impossible to understand what he is saying. One of the boys asks, "Are you in the Army?" Lightning strikes the water and the second boy says, "If I had been in that water... dead." Deep Six continues to lecture the boys in his muffled tone, and one boy responds with some lightning fast dialogue which sounds something like "It's really cold out here...bye!"

#17: Australian Kids who are playing truant hang around an abandoned refrigerator. Recondo (with an Australian accent) is keeping tabs on them. He says, "I'm glad you guys... skipped the class today. We're havin' fun, aren't we?" One of the kids replies, "I wanna play videogames." He responds, "We had a good conversation, heh heh heh. You, you're the ringleader," followed by a burst of maniacal gibberish. As he puts one of the children in the refrigerator he exclaims, "Go'n, get in that fridge there, boy!" and "They don't understand! We gotta sneak back in the school." One other kid expresses a desire to get in the fridge, too. Recondo's chuckling ends the PSA.

#18: Pimp A blind boy and his friends are out walking in the country. The blind boy (with the help of his white cane) is acting like a stereotypical pimp to the annoyance of his friends, who tell him, "Brian, you ain't no pimp, dude!" The blind boy, looking for his money, says "Where's mah money?" A blonde girl speaks up and says "That's my money." Brian then replies; "Man you're just a Jealous motherfucker!", possibly since he is a pimp. Spirit approaches them, speaking in the same Native American language used in PSA04, also sampled from Brocket 99. The blind boy finds a cat in a hollow log. The girl then says that "it's such a wonderful experience here with the Indian."

#19: Fire Alarm Starts with the scene of a house on fire. A boy challenges a boy to push a fire alarm saying, "Bet you won't touch that button, bitch." He tries to do so, but Barbecue approaches them, making the same noises he makes in "Kids Fry," stops the boy from pushing the button, and pops off his helmet. He says (with a slight Upper-Midwestern accent) "Hey guys. Ah, you know it's funny, these people, they go to sleep, they think everything's fine, everything's good... They wake up the next day and they're on fire."

#20: Dockside Bars Two boys have a race through a park. One takes a nearby bicycle to cheat, while the other catches up, saying, "Hey, what the fuck? No way! Suck my dust, bitch!" Shipwreck stops them both, says, "I believe I knew your mother, son," and asks if his name happens to be Johnny. He then asks a series of questions implying that he is the boy's long-lost father. In the end, he asks "Does your mother still hang out at dockside bars?" The boy is bewildered, but Shipwreck follows up with his next question; "Johnny, do you play baseball?" The line of questioning used by Shipwreck is reminiscent of Captain Oveur's questioning of a child passenger in the comedy film Airplane!.

#21: Water Skiing A child is waterskiing. She quickly falls off. Scarlett approaches and the child enthusiastically says, "My turn! My turn! My turn!". She then takes off on the water skis. Scarlett watches on and hums a tune, which develops into a scat singing improvisation session.

#22: Mr. LaFitte Some kids are skateboarding in a roller park with sound effects from Tony Hawk's Pro Skater. Gung-Ho approaches with a girl he calls Susie. He acts with a flamboyant homosexual stereotype telling the girl, "Susie, don't forget your sandwiches!" The boys approach him and he says "Oh, you boys look so lovely in your little outfits." The Yellow Helmeted kid says "Hey! Whats up Miss, uhh..Mister LaFitte?" The Red Helmeted Kid says "Hey.. Watch me Ollie!", referring to a skating move. GungHo then says "I just want to eat you up!" Yellow Helmet Kid then says "Love the tattoo, Mr.LaFitte." GungHo places his hands onto his hips and says "Look at all your different colored hats!" (The Gung Ho character's name is Ettienne R. LaFitte)

#23: Anime This PSA is entirely in Japanese. Kids are making a treehouse. One of them falls but Quick Kick arrives just in time to catch him. A nonsensical conversation in Japanese takes place, which consists mainly of stereotypical phrases from a Japanese-language learning course ("What time is it?", "Please wait while I change my clothes", "Nice to meet you", "How are you?", "Please call me in two or three days.") and has no relevance (when translated) to the incidents in the PSA. The closing chorus is sung in Japanese ("Jii waratashi fuzukuru!"). The timing, music, and ending are all parodies of classic anime.

#24: Buzz Lightyear Three boys are on a boat. One makes an insult about the other's mother ("I fuckin' haxxord your mom's ass last night"). The insulted boy replies with "You might want to put a vest on", and then proceeds to knock the insultee (who is not wearing a lifejacket) off the boat with the sail. The third boy then says "Orange vests are for pussies", clearly in a tone mocking a previous (unheard) conversation with the drowning boy, while wearing an orange vest himself. Deep Six arrives in a submersible boat and drags the boy to safety. Deep Six, still speaking in an unintelligible muffled falsetto through his diving mask, tries to lecture the boys. One of them asks, "Hey, aren't you Buzz Lightyear?", and another whispers "I love your movies." Deep Six gets noticeably angry about this comparison and shouts in his muffled voice.

#25: Fuckin' Old School A girl turns to a boy and says "fuckin' old school". The boy in turn faints but it is edited to appear as if he is break dancing within a large group of children. A chiptunes instrumental plays throughout alongside sporadic crowd reactions. Airtight appears in an extreme close-up, and says (over the music) "Damn... these beats are so fresh... sssssssnap!"

#gi joe #porkchop sandwiches #who wants a body massage #GAME OVER YEAH #holy cow I'm totally going so fast AAAH FUCK

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tinymixtapes · 7 years

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Music Review: Chavez - Cockfighters [EP]

Music Review: Chavez - Cockfighters [EP]: Chavez Cockfighters [EP] [Matador; 2017] Rating: 3.5/5 Should you purchase/listen to/publicly endorse Chavez’s comeback EP, Cockfighters? Take our fun five-minute questionnaire to find out! --- 1. Did you enjoy either of the New York four-piece’s two previous albums, 1995’s Gone Glimmering and 1996’s Ride the Fader? A. Hell yes — these two records made good on the promise of early math and post-rock, injecting the angularity and experimentalism of Don Caballero and Slint with actual drive and intensity. B. Nope. They had their moments, but ultimately they were a bit repetitive, a bit dry, and a bit emotionless. They displayed good musicianship, but not especially good songwriting. C. Um, who the hell are Chavez? 2. Do you like it when your favorite band from 20-plus years ago reunites? Do you like reunions in general? A. Oh yeah, I dig reunions. They give people a chance to see a band live after having missed them the first time around; plus, they give bands who prematurely stopped operating a second chance to evolve their art. B. No. I’d prefer it if we saved our collective attention for newer bands, rather than for bands who lack the grace to bow out as soon as their relevance and originality dries up. And really, I don’t see the point in going back to the past, except to admit that we’ve given up on the present. C. I just like whatever’s popular. If a reunion is popular, I’ll like it. If a reunited band are being talked about by Pitchfork, I’ll like them. 3. How much are you a fan of 90s-era math rock? A. I’m a massive fan. I think math rock completely revitalized the tired form rock music had assumed in the early 1990s, taking its basic template and making it do weird, unexpected things. Not only that, but it provided a happy compromise between the austerity of grunge and the virtuosity of classic rock. B. Not at all — math rock was for awkward boy-men who liked rock music, but were too snobbish to like any rock music popular enough to be a hit with the people who mocked them at high school. C. What does mathematics have to do with rock music? 4. What’s your opinion on distorted, high-treble guitars, the kind that hit with a hard, percussive edge yet still sound surgically precise? A. They represent the best kind of guitar sound there is. I mean, they have the power and weight of distorted metal/rock guitars, but they produce a greater clarity and focus of expression. B. They’re for nerds and hipsters. Seriously, I’m sick of every band I see whose guitarist has a fucking Fender Jaguar or Jazzmaster strapped around his scrawny shoulders. Show some backbone and individuality for God’s sake! C. I’m not sure if I have an opinion on that. They’re okay, I guess? 5. And what would be your opinion if your favorite band — who made copious use of high-treble distorted guitars and an angular, math-esque style — introduced a little more groove into their sound and softened their razor-sharp edges a little? A. I’d be thrilled, especially if they, I don’t know, worked Eastern-tinged modes and riffs into their arsenal or punctuated their bursts of right-angled aggression with more contemplative and emotive guitar work. B. I’d be cool with that, but if their sound became more generic and watered-down as a result, I’d be disappointed, at least insofar as it entailed their becoming less distinct from the kind of cookie-cutter modern rock that’s drowning Spotify, SoundCloud, and the rest of the internet. C. I don’t care how much “groove” they introduce into “their sound” — if I can’t dance to it, it’s not music. 6. How much do you like the EP as a musical format? A. Very much — it provides refreshingly concentrated bursts of music, leaving you wanting more and geeing you up for any full-length release that might be on the horizon. B. Not at all — it’s what a band does when they don’t know what to do, when they’re feeling blindly around for new ideas and hoping that fan or critic feedback will point them in the direction of the most promising ones. Plus, EPs can be too short, inconsequentially short. C. I like music, isn’t that enough? 7. Which one of these is your favorite band-reformation of semi-recent times? A. Polvo B. Slint C. Bush 8. How satisfying do you find compact, linear song structures, the kind that see a single riff or progression developed to a crescendo, and that see a song play out in under four or even three minutes? A. Extremely satisfying. There’s something profound about simplicity, something that makes what you’re saying all the more substantial and momentous. Linear song structures strip away all distractions, enabling a particular melody, phrase, or harmony to reach its full potential. B. Not at all satisfying. They seem a little aimless, as if the lack of any verse-chorus structuring, modulations, or cycles deprives a song of a “story,” of meaning. It’s like you’re just repeating the same thing over and over, even with changes in dynamics and volume. C. What I find really satisfying are hooks. 9. Do you appreciate allusions to “cocks,” phalli, and male chauvinism in your music? A. Oh yes, I appreciate them so much. I think they’re a representation of the biggest problem in society today — the problem of power. Because it’s a matter of luck as to whether you’re born with a penis or not; they represent power’s arbitrariness. They represent its self-perpetuating nature: you have power because you have a penis, and you continue to have power because you already have power. B. Absolutely not: if there’s one thing I can’t stand in art or cultural discourse it’s talk of “the phallus” and “phallocentrism.” Why can’t people just say sexism, (gender) inequality, injustice, or authoritarianism? Talking about anything else just confuses the issue, just introduces some vague, ill-defined metaphysical abstraction into the concreteness of history. C. I’m happy with allusions to anything, as long as they don’t get in the way of a good tune. 10. How many times a day do you jerk off? A. At least twice. B. Not as many times as I used to. C. I don’t jerk off; I have sex. --- End of questionnaire; see your results below! • Mostly A: You should definitely buy/listen to/publicly endorse Chavez’s Cockfighters. You might find it a little short, but you’ll also think it an impressive return to form for a band that’s been inactive for the best part of two decades. • Mostly B: You should perhaps “investigate” Chavez’s Cockfighters, if only to be able to dismiss it more convincingly and promote your superior taste. • Mostly C: You probably found your way to Tiny Mix Tapes by mistake. Anyway, you don’t need Chavez in your life. You never did. http://j.mp/2jKN6bC

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joneswilliam72 · 5 years

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The 405 meets A Fragile Tomorrow

For the Kelly brothers, the title of their band’s new record, Generation Loss, works twofold: as a commentary on how contemporary politics are eroding our nation’s youth and also as a reference to the loss of their mother. Sean, Dom, and Brendan Kelly are joined by Shaun Rhoades and Josh Kean to form A Fragile Tomorrow, whose earliest releases date back to 2012. Their new album is a complex krautrock concept, beginning with a political dystopia and ending with a homage to their matriarch. I spoke with Sean and Dom about a few songs on Generation Loss, including their new single, ‘How Do You Dance To It,’ which the band reveals today. Watch the video and find the interview below.

Pre-order Generation Loss on MPress Records. Follow A Fragile Tomorrow on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

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In terms of ‘How Do You Dance to It,’ why write a song in a vague narrative style with a changing structure to prove a political point? Is there a benefit to doing that artistically?

Sean: When I write, it has to sing well to me first and then I figure out what I’m trying to say. Some melody or phrase kinda jumped out first and then I started to pull the thread a little bit. I tend to be abstract lyrically, I don’t fancy myself much of a lyricist—I’m definitely a composer first. The first half of the record is pretty political, so that was what I was exploring at the time. In ‘How Do You Dance To It,’ I didn’t name Trump specifically, and I think that was important because I wanted to write about fascism and this dictator mentality. It was more about the poetic aspect of it and then with the musical structure, it lent itself very well to this krautrock-y, six-four time signature, kind of weird arrangement. I can picture the narrator in that song in my head, and I mean, it is Trump, but it’s really just a person who could be a cult leader too. It explores this idea of being told not to believe what you’re seeing on the news and what you’re reading online and they are the only one that you should trust.I was picturing Nazi Germany, with all these people just blindly supporting their dear leader. So the song felt almost march-y, with that pre-chorus line with the vocoder just felt slightly call-and-response and a little hypnotic.

I was interested especially because you cited Blackstar by David Bowie as an inspiration for the song. I love that comparison, I definitely hear it structurally, I adore that whole record really.

Sean: Oh me too.

I was going to ask you about one aspect of the album [Blackstar] in particular that I feel resonates in ‘Dance To It,’ but I think you may have already hinted at this. That came out, what, just a few days before Bowie’s death? And it turned out to be prophetic, where he talks about looking down from heaven. The way you describe your song, there is a timelessness to it, though more in the sense of predicting the future because history repeats itself. I suppose you could say this of all protest songs.

Sean: I think that’s really accurate. This record took a lot from Bowie. The thing that I love about him is that, on the Next Day record, which was the first record he did after coming out of retirement, they did all the music first and then he took it home in its basically fully realized form then wrote all of the lyrics over like a four-month span. On ‘Dance To It’ we used the same approach, which allows you to weave throughout the rhythmic landscape musically and create melodies that are against the grain. On this song in particular I remembered thinking I wanted to accomplish that Bowie thing where he’s really good at elongating phrases and staggering them but it becomes like you said, like a timeless idea and you can apply it to a lot of different things.

The way you describe writing the music first, it’s as though the music itself deserves more reverence. And then the lyrics come afterward, though that can be its own draw. I know some Bowie songs I like to sing along with specifically because it’s just a little weird. [laughs]

Sean: Yeah, definitely. But it can be hard to sing and play that, and it’s funny, Brendan and I did a duo gig the other night; it was just the two of us on guitar, and we had a really hard time figuring out what songs to play because it’s hard to play these songs live, especially if you don’t have a bass player and a drummer behind you. It’s been a fun challenge in that way. But I love music like that because you’re absolutely right, for us, the goal is music first. The vocals are like an instrument so it’s all kinda part of the same thing.

How does a nation deprived of a free press feed into the idea of ‘generation loss’? Can you also talk about the album title as it applies to the rest of the record?

Sean: The weird thing is that I don’t think we really realized how it was all tying in together ‘til a good ways into the project but the title was there from the beginning. We started working on this before Mom died and we were writing songs like ‘How Do You Dance To It’ and the title track. So after she died, some of the songs started taking that subject on. I think we’re all sorta realizing that there was this general theme of change. It was like a degrading of thought and intelligence and the loss of our mother in that same token. So with this particular song, if we don’t have a free press and we don’t have the freedom to express opinion and then also to have a place to become informed on certain things, I think you run the risk of really degrading people’s intelligence.

I was thinking about the title track of this record, I remember talking to a friend about how these older generations of people who are anti-gay and have that sort of antiquated thinking those generations are dying off. I hate to be blunt but that’s just like the way it is. Luckily I think the tide is turning with that sort of thing, but I think the problem with this is, when you start trying to limit our free press, I think you run the risk of seeing newer generations growing up less informed.

Dom: To me it’s like a loss of what we know to be true and a loss of the way things have been. When I listen to it and I reflect back on the songwriting, it’s like an acceptance of change. There are lots of people who have thought the media and news is the enemy of the people, and now we have a president who represents that. The thread on the record also includes watching our mother die and accepting these changes of everything we knew to be true. You can hear this progression on the record. The last song, 'Valhalla,' is like an understanding that what we have known to be true is no longer.

That makes a lot of sense, I’m glad I asked that question. Let’s move to 'I Fought the War, I Won.' My first initial thought is, The Clash. But in their track, the law won, not me. How—and even why—did you reconcile those messages?

Sean: So that song is really interesting. We’d been working on this other idea that we had, leftover from my solo record. I told Brendan, ‘this really isn’t working for me, let’s try to go in tomorrow and figure something else out.’ We were thinking about the Bowie song, 'It’s No Game' from Scary Monsters, this really angular, very Pixies-like, intense song. We came up with that chord progression, the chorus melody, and that line was the only thing I had for a long time. I knew that I wanted to write a song that was about Mom but I wanted it to feel like it was a protest song, so I was thinking about the Clash. I think the Clash connection begins and ends with the title mostly, because musically it’s definitely more Bowie.

[Mom] really didn’t like this standard thing that everybody says, ‘losing your battle with cancer.’ In her mind, it devalued her struggle and her fight and she wanted people to know that there was no losing. That she won. I really needed to write that song to express that for her. I went through her blog that she had for several years and tried to find phrases or words or ideas to pull from and use lyrically. That was a really hard song to write—we knew that we wanted the verses to be speak-singing, because nothing was really coming to me in a melodic sense because the chord progression is so weird. On the first demo there’s an entirely different verse and entirely different lyrics. I just couldn’t figure it out for months and months and months and honestly I’m a very patient person but I was getting very upset with myself. I don’t think I had the confidence to really do the speak-singing thing, I was very in my own head about it.

I had all these notes from Mom’s blog, just things that sort of popped out to me and I remember sitting up in bed at like three in the morning as my wife was sleeping and I just, I don’t know what sparked it but I just started writing that first verse. It came out of me pretty much stream-of-consciousness. I went back in the next day and I think we did it in two takes, and it just felt really good and I felt really proud. I did legitimately feel like it was one of those moments when Mom was working through me. I consider myself an agnostic Jew, so that kinda stuff is not very common for me. I just wanted to do her feelings and her thoughts and ideas justice.

You seem to really merge the themes you were already incorporating into this record on this track, from the political, protest side to the more grief-stricken, personal side.

Sean: That was a hard thing for me to do. We knew at that point what the sequence of the record would be and this was the transitional song. Everything up until that point was about politics and if you notice after this song it goes into ‘Circling’—the rest is pretty strictly about Mom and death.

I didn’t realize that the record had that deep of a contrast between those songs. This is right in the middle of the album, so that makes sense. Further down the record is 'I See My Son,' another single, which has a heavy background when looking into the lyrics. But it sounds upbeat and dare I say fun, which is an interesting and deliberate choice you had to make. Did that create any dissonance?

Sean: There definitely is intentionally some level of dissonance because we write music first. I think we all knew what kind of record we wanted to make and what we wanted to write about so I think there was a responsibility there to see that through no matter what was happening musically. 'Gun Shy' is a good example. That was a very big Clash influenced song, the chorus is really bright sounding, but it’s really this blunt call to white people to look in the mirror and realize our privilege.

It’s interesting because I didn’t really know that ‘I See My Son’ was gonna end up being about Mom. The crazy thing about it is that was the one song I wrote about before she died I had written.But I never showed it to her. I will always kind of regret that because while she always joked about like ‘why don’t you ever write a fucking song about me?’ and then this was the one time I did it, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate or the right time to share it.

It’s about this [phone medium] experience my mom had. She was not-so-sure on the whole thing but thought she’d give it a shot. And at some point in that conversation she mentioned this experience she had where she was getting acupuncture and all of a sudden felt this weird out of body experience and saw my triplet brother. He had more involved cerebral palsy than me and Dom do, and died when we were six. In the vision, he was coming towards her in this walker and then let go of it and started running, and then he was gone. That experience, ever since it happened it stayed with her and I think in some ways it made her feel a bit, maybe less scared of the unknown.

You won’t know until you’re experiencing this with someone close to you but when somebody’s dying, everything about them slowly just kind of disappears. Anything that makes them them. She was as much of herself as she could be up until the end but there were certain things about her that started to fade. At some point was ready to go—I think she wanted to see her dad and she wanted to see her son, but she also wasn’t ready, knowing all these things that she knew she was gonna be missing, like Dom’s wedding. It was like she had one foot in one world and one foot in the other. Musically, ’I See My Son’ feels like it’s taking place in that dreamscape.

from The 405 http://bit.ly/2HxQ53L

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