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racingtoaredlight · 1 year

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I just don’t like this guy...

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I’ve watched this entire video a few times...it’s fantastic even if the host is blatantly lying to you.

Jacob Collier, if you’re not familiar, is a very talented multi-instrumentalist that has gotten a good amount of buzz from doing a lot of online shit and lectures. He’s really known for doing remakes of well-known songs where he plays all the instruments and does all the vocal harmonies.

I should revere him as a walking god. At the very least, a living Mozart. But I don’t.

The biggest reason I hate the Beatles isn’t their music or lack of musicianship. They’d be perfectly forgettable if that’s all there was to it. But you can’t mention the Beatles in any public forum outside of the most radiant positive light without inciting a near riot. And Jacob Collier fans have quickly become just as zealous and violent.

What makes the video at the top great is that it’s one of the few criticisms of Collier that exist outside comment sections or forums. The host does his absolute very best to stay politically correct and not justifiably rip into him...but his face tells the whole story.

Simply put...this guy is a highly educated, professional vocal coach who knows all the how’s and why’s. His face tells the entire story. He might go and say “oh he’s really talented and makes it work,” but down deep? He’s disgusted at what he’s hearing.

***

The video at the top is peppered with these moments where his inner disgust comes to the surface. And you gotta give this guy props if you listen to the whole thing...he does his damndest to stay objective and say nice things about Collier, but...

When you really devote yourself to the study of a particular area...where you painfully break yourself down and face truths that fundamentally fuck your head up...and some guy comes prancing in pretending to be a deity, there’s going to be some cognitive dissonance there. You can only tell pretty lies for so long until the truth feels like it’s going to erupt sideways and cause a mile of mountain to displace itself at the sound of speed while Dave Crockett films darkness from beside his Seattle KOMO news car on a miraculously undamaged logging road.

Was that callback too hamfisted?

Maybe it was, but I like it.

***

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The big difference between the Beatles hype and Collier’s is that Collier is actually trying to be proficient at the thing he’s supposed to be doing. And I’m not going to shit all over this, because I think...for the most part...it’s really nice. There are parts in there that are really, really nice...which is one of my biggest issues with Collier.

Those home runs should be the meat of the song. The spoke of the metaphorical wheel. They shouldn’t be quickly abandoned because of ADHD.

Check out 3:50-4:10. My goodness that is good stuff. He goes from a nice little counterpoint-style riff in the higher registers and gradually moves down, octave by octave, filling up the space...which is fucking awesome when he abruptly changes key at the bottom. Just insanely good, high-level shit tucked into a simple presentation. Men have made careers out of much less.

The problem is...this is a single moment.

If you pay attention to the majority of the rest of this...whenever he’s singing, the piano disappears. Now, singing and playing at the same time is difficult, and something I can’t do. But he can’t really do it either...and for that 20 seconds of greatness, we have 7 minutes of him trying to find the keys on the keyboard.

***

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Collier’s big thing is that he plays a ton of instruments. Singing, keys, guitar, bass, uke, banjo, drums, whatever...

Which is cool...I guess?...frankly the most impressive part of this is how it gets put together and edited. Because when you talk to musicians specializing on a certain instrument that Collier plays, that’s when the real criticisms come out. Almost immediately this gets dismissed as sour grapes or jealousy, but it’s not...

The vocal coach at the top...there are times watching Collier where he’s legitimately confused as to what he’s hearing. It’s not because Collier’s not pulling it off, or because the coach is trying to be mean to an amateur...it’s because Collier’s billed as literally Mozart.

And for any musician who knows that instrument he’s playing really well, it’s readily apparent that he’s pretty mediocre on all of them. Technique and musicianship matter to people like us, and when...say...a pianist sees Collier playing like this?

Are we back in 1st grade piano lessons again? Because that’s 1st grade shit. What about bass?

Lol tiny gif of Tiny Desk concert.

I wrote a post awhile back about how you can tell a musician’s proficiency by looking at their hands and wrists. Specifically mentioning how bent wrists like that are an easy way to identify musicians that haven’t put time in on their instrument.

This is important.

When you go through the gauntlet of getting proficient, you quickly realize that everything technical boils down to efficiency. Getting the most out of every movement. Why is this important for bassists? Because the number one responsibility a bassist has is THE GROOVE. Keeping time. Efficiency means better time being able to be sustained longer because you’re expending less energy.

Start the video below at 2:50

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What we have here are three of the greatest slap bassists of all time, masturbating in public to their heart’s delight. They are playing way, WAY more stuff than Collier is...and yet, do any of them have that jerky movement? That bent wrist? No. Because he hasn’t put in the hours.

Yet, Collier has been a featured guest on the biggest bass podcast/YouTube channel in the world multiple times for insight into playing bass. He’s presented as an expert. But he’s not.

Does he have some profiency? Yes he does. He gets a good sound on his bass, it fits the role and the song, and I’m not complaining about him being able to lay down a 4th grade bassline...I’m complaining about him being hailed as some musical genius.

Lets look at guitar.

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Lets move on incredibly quickly, otherwise I’ll spend another 3,000 words on everything wrong with this. Goddamnit, I found another one. This is some of the legitimately worst guitar playing I’ve seen from a professional. And here’s a total no-show. If you’re supposedly Mozart, how you gonna be completely invisible on a stage with 3 people? Seriously, he might as well not even be there.

If he was behind a piano, it’d likely be a different story. But he chose to bring a guitar up there, and you’d think a guy with his knowledge of theory wouldn’t be so shoved in the background by the astoundingly mediocre John Mayer...or his voice wouldn’t be able to cut through the cacophony of...a garden variety chick singer?

That’s exactly what the voice coach at the top was talking about! His vocal technique works in his vacuum...but when you play with other people, technique matters.

***

There was a guy a two years above me at North Texas that is what people say Collier is. He was the lead alto sax in the One O’ Clock Band (despite it being collegiate, it’s one of the best big bands in the world)...was as good of a guitarist as I was, played bass, led church bands on keyboards, played drums and did all sorts of computer programming for music composition and recording.

His proficiency on keys was as comprehensive as it was on sax. He led bands because, not only did he know all the parts, but he could play all the parts on whatever instrument. It was incredible to get the few chances to play with him...and after that, it’s pretty easy to see Collier’s not a musician in the same class in terms of performance. Theoretically is a different story, but in terms of what his hands are doing, he’s pretty amateur on most of the instruments he plays.

Collier’s greatness is his mind. His knowledge of harmony and theory is bulletproof from criticism as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care for his voice, but I certainly respect his ability to match pitches and organize harmony. His arrangements are excellent, period.

And while there’s novelty to being a multi-instrumentalist recording every part of a song, and that is certainly something that was very marketable during the COVID lockdowns, a lot that falls flat when the underlying foundation isn’t solid.

I don’t think you can make the argument that his abilities on guitar or bass are solid. Criticisms there are completely legitimate, because it’s obvious he hasn’t put in the hours. I mean, how could he?

I studied classical and jazz guitar at the same time. While it’s “the same instrument” the disciplines are completely foreign to each other. It was difficult to the point where I couldn’t imagine getting proficient on multiple instruments like that, for no other reason than there are only so many hours in the day.

When you look at his skillset, it’s obvious that his talent lies on the keys and with his voice. But all the time he spends on these other instruments...merely for novelty and showmanship, not for musical reasons...and it neuters the overall production. Delegation is not a new phenomenon here...a pro bassist can fill that slot so you can fix your sketchy piano technique, and make better music moving forward.

Just because you “can” doesn’t mean you should.

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thisaintascenereviews · 2 years

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Thoughtcrimes - Altered Pasts The Dillinger Escape Plan is one of the most important bands of the late 90s and early 2000s metalcore / mathcore scene. I absolutely love their first couple of albums, whether it’s 1999′s Calculating Infinity or 2004′s Miss Machine. Those two albums are also very interesting, because in that five years between those records, metalcore changed a lot, but they still made it work. It was a shame when they broke up in 2016, but all good things must come to an end, right? They’d been around for almost 20 years at that point, so you can’t blame them for parting ways, but the good thing is that it means new bands from former members, one of which being the new band from former drummer Billy Rymer, who played with the band on their last three albums. All of those records are great, and he even played on the album that was my jumping on point for the band, 2010′s Option Paralysis. That was one of the first “mathcore” I ever heard. I knew their name, and I remember seeing the album at Best Buy or something like that, so I bought it and had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I oddly really enjoyed it, even though I had no idea what I was listening to. I’ve heard of Rymer’s new band, Thoughtcrimes, since they debuted in 2019, a few years after Dillinger’s breakup, but I never listened to them until now. The band dropped their debut album, Altered Pasts, and I thought I’d check it out, just for kicks, especially because I haven’t listened to a lot of heavy music lately. I’ve been listening to a lot of jazz, weirdly enough, but more will come on that later on (as I have a few reviews in the pipe line when it comes to jazz). I didn’t know what to expect with this record, other than that Thoughtcrimes followed in Dillinger’s footsteps by being a mathcore record, but mathcore these days is a dime a dozen. I love the sound, but I’m not easily swayed when it comes to new bands these days. I’ve listened to Altered Past a few times now, and honestly, it went about how I expected -- this album’s generic mathcore that does have a few cool moments, but they have a little ways to go before they really impress me, or they really can stick out from the pack. That’s not to say I didn’t like this thing at all, because there are a few things to like, such as vocalist Rick Pepa, who has this really cool mix between these brutal screams and clean vocals that have a Chino Moreno type of vibe to them. He’s not the best singer or harsh vocalist at all, but he does what he does well, I’ll say that. The instrumentation is pretty good, too, as there are some good riffs here and there, as well as some interesting uses of drum machine and hip-hop beats almost. It’s kind of weird, but it also oddly works. Other than that, though, this record is just painfully generic, even though their idea of combining post-metal / alt-metal Deftones-ish sounds with chaotic mathcore is interesting, it’s that both aspects of their sound aren’t interesting on their own. I don’t feel fully invested in either sound, unfortunately, even if it sounds okay. I wish I liked this more, because there is some potential here, but it just didn’t do much for me. If you’re into mathcore, I’d say check it out, it might do more for you than me, but it’s still worth hearing, at the very least.

#the dillinger escape plan #miss machine #calculating infinity #thoughtcrimes #altered past #mathcore #metalcore #metal #deftones #alt-metal #alternative metal #heavy metal

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lukesperfectharmonyhair · 3 years

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im rewatching jatp instead of studying for the 3 tests i have tomorrow and i thought i would share my thoughts and reactions with each episode so enjoy!!....

wake up

- hearing the “1, 2, 3″ at the start of the episode gives me more serotonin than my antidepressants ever will

- julie’s slippers...that’s it...that’s the thought

- that dry ass pasta the molina’s are eating for dinner??? someone needs to give my man ray some cooking tips or a cookbook... something

-the looks the boys give julie when she says it was an OLD cd she found. as if they could be old??

-the entire julie and luke kitchen scene i mean there are no words to describe how much i am in love with scene. the banter, the flirting, luke giving this girl he literally just met an actual PIECE OF HIS SOUL so she can get music back into her life. not a single time have i watched that scene and not felt my heart literally grow cause of how cute they are.

-the entire scene when julie is singing wake up. that scene is what made me literally CRAVE watching the other episodes. like of course i was going to watch them cause i wasn’t gonna just stop watching a show after one episode, and yes the show was good already but seeing the lighting and her voice, and just everything about the scene,,,,*chef’s kiss*

bright

-flynn drinking seven sodas....SEVEN??? i would be throwing up if i drank more than like 2 and she drank seven,,,no ma’am.

- flynn and her trumpet. talented queen

- “ i wouldn’t have given you the song if i didnt think you were gonna rock it.” lmaooo im crying:)

- i start tearing up every time julie goes to play the first notes of bright,,, and then i’m full on bawling when the guys come in and play with her cause...they weren’t playing to be seen they were playing to be there for her and play to comfort her. pls i love them<3

- nick vibing in the front row

- the tech guy deserves so much more praise

flying solo

- reggie’s little butt shake or whatever you wanna call it!!

- julie’s little laugh when she yells at the guys to stop it

- “and we’re on the runway again” GENUINELY one of my favorite lines of the whole show pls i love luke’s humor

-this is the first time i noticed this but reggie’s face after alex says “DONT TELL ME HOW TO GHOST!”

-WILLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU<3333333

-the slow mo helmet take off,,,,me too alex me too

-willie’s little giggles:))))

- “oh-oh!”

- “no clue” alex i love you baby<3

- next season better give us a scene of flynn throwing eggs at someone’s house because i think it’s safe to say we were robbed of that experience.

- the flying solo performance is just amazing

i got the music

- just the whole opening scene is so cute ....the dancing, singing, happiness RADIATING from julie

-nick in an all white suit and fedora

-WILLEX MUSEUM DATE YEAH BABYYYYY

- carefree skateboarder bf and anxiety ridden drummer bf

- yelling. in. museums.

-alex thinking he’s literally dying again because of the salt... zero braincells in this band.

- another scene we were robbed of that i need to see in season 2...reggie singing “home is where my horse is” while alex and julie sit patiently and attentively listen to him but luke looks like he’s about to commit murder

- i get SO MUCH second hand embarrassment for julie when she looks through luke’s songbook and says “ wow luke I didn’t know you were such a romantic” julie baby i love you but...eekkkkk

- “he looks like a substitute teacher”- where did he come up with that like so many other things he could be compared to but a substitute teacher??

- “luke introduced you to rock” heck yeah it did.. literal soulmates

- would like to see a picture of the raccoon in Flynn’s backyard

- wee woo wee woo police sirens://///

- julie’s outfit ughhhh i love it

- the poster that im pretty sure says “sexiest role” behind caleb... why was that necessary

the other side of hollywood

- THE ENTIRE PERFORMANCE OF THE OTHER SIDE OF HOLLYWOOD

- i lose my absolute shit over this song omg literal chills

- the cape grab i cannot physically do this rn

- willie being so excited the entire performance and looking over to see alex’s reaction

- reggie being in awe everytime one of the girls performing does something.. me too reggie

-”well i wouldn't really call it mAAgiCcCC bUT”

- nick and his fedora again

- alex has a crush, alex has a crush on.....WILLIE

-the boys eating food for the first time in 25 years is honestly so realistic

-alex shoving a whole slice of pizza in his mouth

- lukes ‘OH MY GODDDDD’

- reggie kissing his meatball sub that looks painfully dry but also delicious

- the continuation of the other side of hollywood performance and everyone dancing

-reggie imitating caleb’s evil laugh and owen trying so hard not to break

-me getting mad at the boys for not showing up for julie and being sad with her but at the same time i’m obviously not mad at the boys just...disappointed?? idk

finally free

- how did julie get to the school if she missed the first three classes?? wasn’t she still at flynn’s house from the night before cause she slept over so did she walk to school or was she just sitting in flynn’s house by herself and one of flynn’s parents was like you gonna go to school or???

-dance class with nicky poo<3

-reggie fixing his amp in the rain

-julie’s blue dress outfit in this episode is my ABSOLUTE favorite

- the birthday candle scene makes me sob like a little baby,,,and rightfully so

- julie smart, smart to be taking calculus as what a sophomore??

- all eyes on me yes queen iconic

- alex dancing is how i dance in my brain whenever the song comes on

- finally free as a song is NEVER given enough credit and why not?? it’s my favorite song they do as a band AND the madison’s vocals and the echoing part omg i loveeeee

- and the whole performance with luke’s heart eyes. i count this performance as the moment luke like fell in love with julie...like full on just blown away with how much awe and admiration he has for her in that moment and all the time.

- julie and luke singing “and you’re a part of me” while staring directly into each others soul,,,yeah that’s love kids

edge of great

- carlos being the ghost hunter he is and tía being done with him

- luke’s pouting face

- reggie and ray making breakfast together is so wholesome. reggie really loves and seeks comfort in ray and i love that

- luke just waiting next to julie’s locker and his little “hey”

- the first time i watch this scene i thought charlie was from new york cause of the way he says “ i can't do this without you” and then i watched the cast interviews and just realized he is somewhat joey tribbiani

- jealous luke hehehehehhehehe

- “well dont you look shARrP”- yes he does luke thank you very much

- “uh oh i think someone has a crush on julie” yeah you do you little shit,,, now admit it to her

- the proud look on luke’s face when he realizes julie is still paying attention to HIM even though she’s supposed to be having a full on conversation with nick

- the shoulder push ( as someone who has had their own shoulder pushed in the middle of a high school hallway as a weird way of flirting,,,,i can definitely somewhat attest to how luke is feeling in that moment and i too continued to flirt with the person who shoulder shoved me while we were still standing in the hallway)

- the flow from whatever the hell dance nick and julie are doing and the perfect harmony dance is so special to me and i love it

-ADOANCLOBNAOVBCOAB THE HAIR PLSSSSS

- EVERYTIME THE SCENE COMES ON AND I SEE HIM WALKING THROUGH THE MIRROR I HAVE TO PAUSE THE SHOW FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES WHILE I DIE LAUGHING BECAUSE THE HAIR IS SO BAD EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD BE USED TO HOW IT LOOKS AFTER WATCHING THIS SHOW LITERALLY 30 TIMES

- i think people see my username and assume i like his hair in this scene but...ummm fun little fact i do not like it

- the dance is so good though ugh my babies

- the hair

- madison is gorgeous

- another season 2 scene i need: julie teaching this dance to luke and they perform it in front of alex and reggie so they can see luke roll on the floor like that

-the hair

- the lift i loveeee

- the voices at the end of the song *chef’s kiss*

- the way julie spins out from luke and into nick omg so good

- “thAnKs pArTnER”

- luke denying his feelings for julie,,,babe pls

- the whole edge of great performance is so good and beautiful and the colors are SPECTACULAR

-julie avoiding luke’s gaze lolz

- can't believe my mans really tried to deny he didn’t have feelings for julie like 5 hours earlier even though he’s getting upset because she hasn’t looked at him in 2 minutes

- THE. GUITAR. RIFF. SOLO.

- when i finally learn how to play the electric guitar well enough to learn the guitar solo... it’s over for everyone

-nick just came to watch the girl he likes perform not watch her flirt with a hologram plssss can we give this man a break next season.

- “we have to say goodbye to julie”- that’s literally more important to luke than not playing music anymore because julie is music to him now

unsaid emily

-already crying and the episode hasn't even started

-willex in the orpheum

- alex literally being OVER reggie

- nope too emotionally unstable to watch this scene right now

- my therapist will be hearing about this tomorrow

- show us the baby picture of luke cowards

- this is such a beautiful song that makes me cry every fucking time gosh damn it

- everytime i watch the flashback scene of luke on his bike i think of “christmas song” by phoebe bridges and i cry even more

- i tried to learn how to play this song on my electric guitar (because i dont have an acoustic guitar) and i ended up crying half way through so i do not think i will be playing it anytime soon:/

- the harmonies *chef’s kiss*

- THE POLICE LIGHTS ....i cry

- FAT tears rolling down my face

- there's literally not a moment i don’t cry during this episode

- interesting little relationship :0

- when i played percussion in 7th grade i used to lay down on the couch in the practice room at school ( which god knows what people did on that couch...ew) and stick my drumsticks up my nose too,,,, just another similarity between alex and i

stand tall

- willie really drove a bus 200 miles into the desert for his crush

- WILLEX HUG

- i love willie no last name so much,,,i just wanna hold and protect him

- alex’s ballerina dance

-julie’s overall outfit i love<3

- “im swimming”

- the way carlos hangs up the iPad on tía makes me CRACK UP he’s just lmao bye girl

- another julie outfit i love

- “anything julie. you know that.” AHHHHHAASIDSJFPACISN love bitches

- the suits

- luke’s hair in this episode is so much better than the perfect harmony hair pls

- YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE

- the way luke looks so restricted and confined in his suit... but at the same time he looks like a 10 week old puppy

-luke’s AGGRESSIVE but small foot tapping leading up to being on the stage

- the solos:)))))

- crying again over julie’s monologue to her mom

- julie really was brave enough to be ready to perform by herself

-the way Trevor looks at carrie when she says “been here before”

-ALEXXXXXX

-REGGIEEEEE

-luuukkKKKEEEEEEE

- this performance makes me cry

- especially the first time when i saw luke flickering...sobs

- he finally looks free in his suit:))

- alex’s solo is so pretty i love him

- reggie’s solo too

- nick just straight up vibing the entire performance

- alex and luke holding hands...hehehe cute besties

- “thank you, guys” NO THANK YOU

- the way julie begs for them to do something about the jolts for HER cause she knows luke would never say no to her

- “no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you,” I JUST SCREAMED AND IM PRETTY SURE I WOKE UP MY ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD...whoops

- going back to that line i could say so much about it but....for someone who’s life was literally MUSIC for the 17 years he was alive, and after finding out he could play music again even though he was dead and saying it made him feel alive, he would give that up- he would give up playing his guitar, playing in a band with his friends, give up writing and singing music- if he wasn’t doing that with julie. that’s more than saying i love you,,,that’s literally like saying i’d give up my ENTIRE LIFE and what i love to do if i dont get to do it with you

- i just made myself cry with that description...wow

-the hug<3

-also imagine how luke felt in that moment,,, hearing this girl, once again that he would give his life up for, saying in his ear that she loves them. i would motherfucking glow too, luke

- *passionately but gently holds each others faces*

-HANDS OFF MY BABY NICK, CALEB

- caleb’s outfit is....something

- the head turn plssss

this was so long and i am so sorry but if you read this far.....leave some of your own reactions or thoughts:)))

k goodnight im gonna, ugh, finally go study ://

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie #flynn jatp #nick jatp #carrie wilson #renew jatp #netflix PLEASE we are begging give us a season 2

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hailing-stars · 3 years

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@febuwhump day 17: field surgery

relaxation is overrated summary

“What’s wrong, Parker?”

“So I have news,” he tells him.

Tony immediately closes his eyes and braces himself. It’s never a good sign when the boy starts stalling. “Spit it out.”

“I have a bullet in my leg.”

“What?”

“Just a small one!”

“All bullets are small.”

“That’s true, Mr. Stark, but I don’t know, compared to the others, this one sort of feels like small fries, you know?”

Peter takes a bullet to the leg, and Tony is a Stressed Dad.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, how are you?”

Peter’s voice on the other end of the phone is muffled, broken, and it brings a spike in Tony’s always present anxiety. He holds his cellphone in one hand, while he continues to pour himself a scotch with the other.

It’s eleven in the fucking evening, so he isn’t ready to give up on his plans to relax just yet, despite all the obvious signs screaming that his doom is unavoidable. Now that Peter’s on the line, he doubts any real relaxing will take place.

“What’s wrong, Parker?”

“So I have news,” he tells him.

Tony immediately closes his eyes and braces himself. It’s never a good sign when the boy starts stalling. “Spit it out.”

“I have a bullet in my leg.”

“What?”

“Just a small one!”

“All bullets are small.”

“That’s true, Mr. Stark, but I don’t know, compared to the others, this one sort of feels like small fries, you know?”

“The others?” questions Tony.

“When you’re Spider-Man you make a lot of enemies. People like shooting at you and all that. It’s just I’ve never been very good at dodgeball.”

Tony inhales, holds, then releases, in some futile attempt to calm his pulse. It doesn’t work.

His heart continues to rampage around in his chest without any sign of ceasing. He can’t work out which is worse, the imagine of Peter lying in an alley with a bullet in his leg, or that he’d just referred to being shot at as playing a gym class sport.

“Can you come, ummm, help me out?”

As if Peter even needs to ask.

Tony’s already pouring his glass of scotch down the kitchen sink, and ordering FRIDAY to send him Peter’s location.

“I’ll be there in a jiffy,” says Tony.

He hangs up, pockets his phone, and steps out onto his balcony. Armor flies towards him. Cloaks him with power. And he’s blasting off into night, ready to go out and rescue his dumbass child.

Tony finds Peter in a dark alley. His back is up against a building, and he’s playing some game on his phone, as if he’s a bored child waiting at the doctor’s office instead of Spider-Man with a gunshot wound. Peter, at least, puts the phone away into his spidey suit when Tony lands.

“Kid,” says Tony. His face mask disappears and he eyes the blood pouring out his leg. “That’s a lot of blood.”

Peter shrugs. “Oh, I’ve had worse.”

“Please do not say that,” says Tony. “If you want me and your aunt to continue letting you play cops and robbers with street riff-raff, please do not tell me anything more than I need to know.”

“Fine, fine,” says Peter. “Just get this bullet out of me so I can continue my patrol.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“That’s why you showed up?” asks Peter. Painfully serious. “Remove the bullet and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh yeah,” says Tony. “Let me just grab my medic bag and my bullet removers.”

Peter looks up at him. The black eyes stitched into the spidey mask are comically wide, and if it was any other situation, Tony might’ve laughed. Or at least privately thought of it as cute.

“What about me made you think I would be willing to dig around in your leg with tweezers searching for a very small bullet?”

“Dunno,” says Peter. “Field surgery doesn’t seem that difficult, you know, for a genius? And I don’t really want to go to Medbay.”

Tony doesn’t believe what he’s hearing, but it gets worse as Peter continues to ramble with no sign of slowing down any time soon.

“There’s a drug store down the road, you could just go there and buy some rubbing alcohol and some -”

“-kid-”

“-what’s the big deal? I do it all -”

“-Do not keep talking, hear me? Stop talking right now!” says Tony, beyond stressed.

He starts his breathing exercises. He closes his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?” asks Peter. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to block this conversation from my memory,” he tells him. “It’s the only way I’ll ever get any rest.”

It’s a miracle, but the boy stops talking long enough for Tony to calm himself down.

“Okay,” says Tony. “Let’s go.”

Peter lets out a pitiful groan.

“Hey, it’s either a piggy back ride to the Tower’s med center, or bleeding out in a dark alley, your choice.”

“Fine,” says Peter, allowing Tony to help him up, then clinging to his back. “But we’re never speaking about this again.”

“Oh,” says Tony. “We’re in total agreement there.”

They retrieve the bullet from Peter’s leg, and they bandage it up real good. Peter’s got it propped up in a sling when Tony returns to his medbay room. He stops. Stares at it, and hits Peter with a look.

“And you wanted me to do it.”

Peter’s grins ruefully. “Just didn’t want to spend the night in the hospital. All high on pain meds.”

“Didn’t see you refusing them,” says Tony, plopping down in the bedside armchair.

“Yeah, well,” says Peter. “Suppose it is better than being all dead zombielike in some alley.”

Tony has the perfect opportunity to gloat right there, in that moment, and yet he lets it sail by. I-told-you-so’s are for weaker men. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Tony doesn’t exactly have it figured out.

Just knows now that Peter’s got his mask off, and his tragically young eyes peer back at him, Tony isn’t capable of being anything less than kind and compassionate. There’s not even room for sarcastic banter when Peter’s looking so young, and vulnerable, and a little bit high on those pain meds he hadn’t really wanted at first.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “And, umm, sorry for almost giving you heart palpitations and all. I know I’m kind of annoying sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pete,” says Tony. “The palpitations are worth it.”

Peter laughs, suddenly and loud. “Palpitations is a fun word. Like Emperor Palpitations… no wait.” He shakes his head. “That’s not his name… what’s his name? On Star Wars… whatever. Should’ve named him palpitations.”

“They must really have you on the strong stuff,” says Tony, with a chuckle, “if you’re forgetting your Star Wars facts.”

“Does that make me a fake fan?” His voice is so serious and scared, as if he really believes somehow he’s about to be banned from the Star Wars fandom forever.

“No,” says Tony. “Nobody who spends three hours putting together a Lego Death Star is a fake fan.”

“Oh,” says Peter. Relief washes across his face. “Good.”

Tony chuckles. “I think maybe you should sleep it off, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good, sleep is really good,” says Peter. He pulls the blanket up to his chin, and looks at Tony, glossy eyed, that is, until both his eyes drift shut. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Yeah, kid, of course.”

Peter doesn’t say anything else and Tony can tell it’s because he’s already nodded off into dream town. With a sigh, Tony props his feet up on Peter’s bed. He guesses relaxation is overrated, anyway.

#febuwhumpday17 #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #Peter and tony #Peter Parker gets shot

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passionate-reply · 3 years

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This week on Great Albums: My first video about Depeche Mode--and it’s about their first album! I think it’s pretty good, but a lot of people HATE it. Are you intrigued? Take a listen, or read the transcript, and see where you fall!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be looking at the somewhat rough start of one of the most iconic bands in the history of electronic music: Depeche Mode, and their 1981 debut, Speak & Spell. While Depeche Mode are certainly a beloved band, many of their fans actively revile Speak & Spell. What’s wrong with it? Well, it has songs that sound like this.

Music: “Just Can’t Get Enough”

“Just Can’t Get Enough” isn’t exactly the kind of song Depeche Mode are associated with--though it did make an entry in the charts, and remains fairly well known today, largely thanks to its use in advertising. The band’s “classic run,” spanning roughly from the mid-80s to the mid-90s, saw them achieve substantial mainstream adulation, as a pop act peddling dark and gothic themes, and maintaining a substantial electronic element to their music, without ever becoming inaccessible to rock listeners. They were even “rock and roll” enough to consistently break America, which is no small feat for, essentially, a synth-pop band from England. That synth-pop heritage dominates the sonic palate of Speak & Spell, and it’s hard to imagine a die-hard rock fan vibing with upbeat, almost saccharine pop ditties like “What’s Your Name?”

Music: “What’s Your Name?”

Of course, “What’s Your Name?” has another big problem besides favouring bright, chirping synth riffs over the guitar-based chug of tracks like “Personal Jesus.” Its seemingly homoerotic lyrics might be said to constitute the first instance of Depeche Mode engaging in what we might call musical “queer-baiting.” Thumbing their noses at norms of sexuality and gender presentation have earned the band a substantial queer following throughout their career, but it’s not such a smart move if you’re trying to attract macho rock listeners, and get yourself into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Part of the reason why Depeche Mode were ultimately able to do those things, later in their career, is that they had a pretty handy scapegoat: Vince Clarke. Clarke was a founding member of the band, and as the chief songwriter for all but two tracks on Speak & Spell, he was unequivocally the creative force driving the album. Conveniently enough, Clarke not only departed from Depeche Mode immediately after this first album, but went on to serve as an integral member of two unequivocally poppy duos, Yazoo and Erasure. But as easy as it is to simply blame Vince Clarke’s interest in cheerful pop for the apparent failures of Speak & Spell, this hypothesis doesn’t hold up. Some Clarke-penned numbers, like “Puppets,” are at least as gloomy as anything from the mind of Martin L. Gore, who took over songwriting duties on every subsequent Depeche Mode LP.

Music: “Puppets”

“Puppets” is pretty far from a feel-good song. Those fairly bright synths remain, but here, they feel more like a tense crescendo of violins, as something goes poorly in a horror film, and a serrated synth stab answers them from below. Dave Gahan’s semi-whispered delivery of the vocals, which narrate the perspective of a manipulative and controlling partner, add even more to its sinister ambiance. Given only a minor aesthetic facelift, “Puppets” could fit just fine onto most other Depeche Mode albums, even if Clarke did write it. I actually think the softer, poppier touches this track DOES have serve it well, and make it feel a bit insidious--like a lover who seems loveable and charming at first, before revealing their abusive tendencies over time. Another track that really benefits from creating tension between pop fluff and things macabre is the striking “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead.”

Music: “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead”

“I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead” features an almost gratingly toylike synth riff, that reminds me a bit of those custom cell phone ringtones from the 00s. Its lyrics are also almost painfully chipper, at least at first, as is Gahan’s infantile delivery of them...but there seems to be some irony there. While that provocative title doesn’t actually appear, the song seems to be obliquely telling a story of someone dealing with a breakup, albeit cloaked in this eerily sunny music. International editions of *Speak & Spell* would remove this track in favour of the non-album A-side “Dreaming of Me,” presumably targeting it for its inflammatory title and short runtime of just over two minutes. “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead” is a powerful reminder that just because something has a shiny pop veneer doesn’t mean it’s disposable, or that it lacks in artistic complexity.

Still, if you’re in the market for something that feels more like “classic” Depeche Mode, Speak & Spell can deliver on that front as well. Look no further than Gore’s contributions to the album, such as “Tora! Tora! Tora!” With its frantic refrain, and troubling themes of nuclear holocaust, “Tora! Tora! Tora!” feels more like Depeche Mode’s classic run than just about anything else on Speak & Spell, prefiguring iconic tracks like “Leave In Silence” and “People Are People” quite well.

Music: “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

Speak & Spell’s cover is certainly strange and a bit opaque, showing some sort of bird in its nest from a very low angle. The background is almost entirely a lurid, artificial-looking pinkish red, with no other recognizable figures to ground this landscape in reality. Between the chaotic textures of the nest, and the surreal emptiness of the scene, it comes across as a sort of nightmare world, albeit one populated by only this fairly non-threatening creature...that we know of. If we look closely at that bird, we can start to see what looks like a transparent veil covering its neck and head. I like to interpret this image as a representation of the natural world, destroyed by human callousness: an animal suffocates under a sheet of plastic, while the sky behind it glows red with bombs “raining from the sky,” as in “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

Despite the title, you won’t hear any samples of the titular toy on Speak & Spell--though Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark would famously incorporate some on their album Dazzle Ships, a few years later. The title “Speak & Spell” would seem to suggest the album’s light, playful tone, and sense of pop novelty. A Speak & Spell is, of course, a fun and entertaining toy, which repeats the same handful of things over and over, as a pop song might be played *ad infinitum* on the radio. Perhaps the way the songs sneak a darker emotional undercurrent past their listeners is parallel to how the toy covertly educates children in basic spelling, while also being amusing to fool around with.

After Speak & Spell, it took several more years for Depeche Mode to really find their footing, and launch into that classic period of theirs where they released most of their best-loved material. Despite the absence of Vince Clarke, their sophomore LP, A Broken Frame, is stylistically rather similar to Speak & Spell, and pairs somber tracks like “The Sun and the Rainfall” and “My Secret Garden” with some very upbeat ones like “The Meaning of Love.” If the fact that Clarke could write “Puppets” didn’t sell you on my assertion that he isn’t the singular problem with Speak & Spell, the fact that Martin Gore wrote “The Meaning of Love” should serve as proof that the desire to make catchy pop tunes didn’t rest solely on any one person’s shoulders.

Music: “The Meaning of Love”

My favourite track from Speak & Spell is the opener, “New Life.” “New Life” was also released as a single and made substantial headway in the charts, though it doesn’t seem quite as well remembered as “Just Can’t Get Enough.” Like “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead,” “New Life” is almost disgustingly catchy and hooky, but hides some surprisingly dark lyrics. But I’ll freely admit that I don’t particularly have some sophisticated, intellectually justified reason for liking this song the most, besides just thinking it’s a real toe-tapper. While I’ve gone to great lengths to dispel the idea that Speak & Spell is nothing but cheerful pop, I’d also like to point out that simply being cheerful pop isn’t exactly a musical sin. Whether you like it or not, it’s certainly far from easy to write a great pop song that stands the test of time, the way tracks like “New Life” and “Just Can’t Get Enough” have, and simply pointing out that they’re not as morose as later Depeche Mode songs isn’t a worthwhile criticism of them. While I enjoy a lot of more gothic music myself, I think a work of art that elicits the emotion of joy has as much of a shot at being a Great Album as one that wants to make us angry, sad, or afraid. On that note, I’ve reached the end of my video--as always, thanks for listening.

Music: “New Life”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #depeche mode

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wrightiverse · 3 years

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Last batch of commentary for the last chapter of Crowd

Glenn looks over to see how Nick's doing, and the kid gives him a beaming grin and a thumbs up. Glenn’s heart thumps almost painfully in his chest as he grins back.

But I won't feel blue / Like I always do / 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.

The “you” that was somewhere in the Crowd had to be Nick. As much as I like Robin, Nick is still the most important person in Glenn’s life, and affirming their bond was the right note to end on.

* * * * *

See, Glenn's cautiously adjusting to the idea that Nick isn’t going to kick Glenn out of his life on his 18th birthday. He definitely doesn’t know a lot of guys who get along with their fathers, but even his oblivious ass has noticed that Connor’s over at the loft every few weeks, crashing on the bunk beds that he and Nick insisted were necessary. Hell, Robin called his own parents back in Boston this morning to proudly tell them about Glenn’s show.

That's what Glenn did to his own dad, and of course that's what he's afraid of with Nick. You can't be what you don't see, and unfortunately I don't think Glenn knows a lot of guys who have a good relationship with their fathers. I certainly couldn’t come up with a third example from the characters in the dndads universe.

* * * * *

Choosing to be happy is a high-stakes bet, but Glenn's decided to let it ride. Giving up just doesn't hold the same appeal that it used to. He's going to stay in the game, trust his luck, and see what the cards have in store for him.

One of the changes in Glenn over these stories is him grasping that much of the stuff in his life, good and bad, was due to chance. He didn't bring the bad times on himself by being a bad person, and the good things in his life now aren't because he's turned it all around. Refusing to roll the dice didn't actually protect him the way he hoped it would, so he's getting back in the game. We threw it in kinda casually at the end of a silly part of the story, but it's more or less the thesis statement: Life’s still not fair, but occasionally, with the right people around... it’s good.

* * * * *

Maybe he'll get to be around to watch Nick grow up. Maybe he’ll actually find a gray hair one day, and it won’t be the end of the world.

Glenn’s vigilance about looking youthful, particularly with regard to whether his hair is going gray, has been a running bit since way back in Name. In contrast, they're both very comfortable with Robin looking his age, to the point where Glenn has a hard time even accepting that Robin looked different when he was a young man. It comes up a couple of times, often relative to Glenn's parents. Robin asks Glenn when Bill went gray, and Glenn doesn't know (and gets stressed out at the question). Robin realizes when he meets Adele that she does her grays exactly the way that he thinks would look good on Glenn. I have to imagine he never brought that particular suggestion up again, but the fact that he found out via meeting Adele and not via Glenn saying "no, that's what my mother does and I hate it" is not a great sign. Anyway, all those moments take on a different cast in light of Glenn's difficulty with making decisions on behalf of his future self. As with the "fatherhood extends past the point when your kid turns 18" revelation, some of it just comes down to him being somebody who is fairly isolated and lacks role models. This is where their often-alluded-to age gap comes in really handy: Robin and Connor can provide at least one model of a functional father-son relationship that’s a few years along from where Glenn and Nick are. That’s not the only thing Glenn needs to help him out, but it can’t hurt.

Glenn tends to self-isolate, and from my perspective, essentially none of his problems are solvable in isolation at all. This is a guy whose best friend is his kid and most of his adult interaction is with his bandmates, with whom he has a bad relationship in both this and canon. Canon Glenn never tries to use his phone to talk to anybody but Nick, IIRC. His dad is dead. His wife is dead. He never mentions any other partner, a friend, even an ex or a neighbor. He seems to vaguely know a couple of the other dads from school stuff, but not well. Maybe he has an entire support network that got mentioned after I stopped listening, but he always seemed like a really lonely guy to me in eps 1-30 or so. It made his failings make a lot of sense - he has no support and he has no points of comparison, so he just sort of freestyles it and gauges his success based on whether Nick seems happy or not. That’s not a sustainable or healthy approach, but every other one would probably require a) effort and b) external support, so... nope.

The future isn't the only time that Glenn is bad with. He also has major parts of the past blocked off, and most of the time when he thinks about something in the past, it's the result of a trigger, rather than a choice. There are definitely things in his past where it's understandable that he doesn't want to linger, but it means he’s left some good stuff behind, as well. Part of him figuring out how to break out of his patterns is developing the ability to envision both the future and the past. That's why it's so good to see him reconnecting with the first music he played, and why they finally have some pictures of Morgan up. He is making peace with the past, he is understanding that the bad stuff that happened to him was the result of random happenstance (rather than deliberate punishment for him being a bad person), and it enables him (as do some of the other things discussed above) to contemplate the premise that tomorrow might not necessarily be worse than today and the future might be worth showing up to, gray hair or no.

*****

Maybe he’ll become old and boring. Maybe he deserves to. What Glenn can say for certain is that in this moment, he's happy, and he's lucky, and he's loved.

It's tough to figure out where to end a slice-of-life story. In this case it made a lot of sense to bring it full circle with Glenn performing on his own. He opens Crowd rehearsing miserably and he spends a lot of the subsequent story untangling the mess that's become of the band and his relationship to music. I honestly don't remember why we decided Glenn's canon exit from the GC3 didn't apply, since it was a decision we made back when we actually were trying somewhat to adhere to canon, but I'm glad we did because it gave us the opportunity to follow this out and explore the different nuances of it.

I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but I am always hugely tempted to end dndads fics with some riff on the “it’ll be all right” thing. In this case, I wanted to avoid it not just because it felt hacky but because it was a contradiction to everything we’ve been saying. There are no happy endings. I can’t promise that everything is going to be all right for Glenn, but I can promise that in this moment, in this story, in this universe, he’s happy and loved. I hope that felt earned and that you enjoyed getting there with us.

#wrightiverse #commentary

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nerianasims · 3 years

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Billboard #1s 1979

Under the cut.

I discuss Michael Jackson’s life and actions a little bit underneath here. So be warned if that’s something that will upset you.

The Bee Gees -- "Too Much Heaven" -- January 6, 1979

Uugh. When The Bee Gees weren't releasing bad, bloodless, falsetto disco, they were releasing bad, bloodless, falsetto lite "rock." Also the lyrics are about how love is soooo hard to get, so they're special since they have love, and yuck. Nonsense and glop.

Rod Stewart -- "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" -- February 10, 1979

I laughed out loud when I saw this next on the list. People can't have taken it seriously in 1979, right? It was seen like "I'm Too Sexy", yes? Even though Rod Stewart was a "serious" singer -- come on, this is a ridiculous song. It isn't about the narrator; it's about two people meeting on a dance floor and then going to have what's probably a one-night stand. But when Rod Stewart sings the chorus, it sounds like it's about him. It's a highly unsexy and very silly song.

Gloria Gaynor -- "I Will Survive" -- March 10, 1979

The joy I feel listening to this song. It's the best disco song. The bright piano flourish opens to Gaynor's amazing voice and phenomenal singing ability. She sells her anger at the guy who's "back to bother" her, along with the assertion that she's now totally confident and is gonna do great without him, will all her life to live and all her love to give. The lyrics are great, which is incredibly rare for any dance song. The music is great. And Gaynor is perfect. You can belt it in the car and it drives people to the dance floor. Just an amazing, incredible song.

The Bee Gees -- "Tragedy" -- March 24, 1979

The real tragedy is that The Bee Gees shat up disco. What could it have been if not for their influence? There were disco singers and groups who escaped it, but Barry Gibb and Friends' clogging of the charts kept out so many worthy acts. Lots of synth on this song, and synth can be really cool (I'm a diehard fan of The Alan Parsons Project), but the Bee Gees made it boring and turgid. Then that damned falsetto. I don't care about the lyrics, I just want to not hear the Bee Gees again ever.

The Doobie Brothers -- "What A Fool Believes" -- April 14, 1979

The guy the song is about thinks he's going to get an ex back because she was nice when he met her again. He's a fool, and "no wise man has the power to reason away." The music's good, too, a sort of mild rock. "Yacht rock" I suppose. The sentiment is kinda country music though. Good song, anyway.

Amii Stewart -- "Knock on Wood" -- April 21, 1979

What is that in the background? A synth sound, obviously, but it sounds like -- a washboard? I have no idea, but it's annoying. This is a cover of an older soul song by Eddie Floyd that's pretty good, but they wreck it here. The amount of gunk clogging it up is painful. Also Amii Stewart doesn't modulate at all, her voice is a constant blare. Headache-inducing.

Blondie -- "Heart of Glass" -- April 28, 1979

The 80s are coming. Blondie does interesting things with synth here, the beat's irresistible, Debbie Harry's voice is unique, and the lyrics are about an ended relationship that was "a pain in the ass." Not some huge broken-hearted thing, despite the "heart of glass" lyric. Just... done, that didn't work, moving on. Not that the lyrics particularly matter here. It's all about the interesting, different-sounding music.

Peaches & Herb -- "Reunited" -- May 5, 1979

If synth can sound more synthetic than usual, that's how this song begins. It's about a couple getting back together, but it doesn't sound like they were ever in a lot of pain or that they're really excited now. There's some neat guitar stuff. It could be worse. But mostly it's bland.

Donna Summer -- "Hot Stuff" -- June 2, 1979

It's a disco song, but with a lot more rock in it than disco usually has. Maybe that's why it's survived so much better than most disco. The narrator wants one of her lovers (of whom she obviously has many) to answer the phone so that she can get laid. It's the ballad of Romance Sims. It's fun.

Bee Gees -- "Love You Inside Out" -- June 9, 1979

Well, ew. This guy's whining that the woman he loves has too many lovers but he's the one who will "love you inside out," whatever the hell that means. It sounds like a serial killer. She needs to dump him, and also probably move and change her name. And, of course, there's Barry Gibb's horrible orchestration and falsetto.

Anita Ward -- "Ring My Bell" -- June 30, 1979

Disco, of course. He's been gone for a while and she's singing to him "you can ring my bell." So, they're gonna celebrate his homecoming with lots of sex. The lines "You can ring my bell, ring my bell/ (Ring my bell/ ding-dong-ding)" repeat a couple hundred times. The background synth sounds are painfully repetitive. Like something on The Prisoner used to brainwash people. And Anita Ward sings in a Betty Boop-ish sort of childish voice that I also find annoying. It's not Bee Gees bad, but it's bad.

Donna Summer -- "Bad Girls" -- July 14, 1979

"Bad girls" are not the same as "sad girls." Sorry, this song might be fine or even good, but that one line has always bugged me way too much. So does the police whistle.

Chic -- "Good Times" -- August 18, 1979

Disco about how "happy days are here again" for now. The lyrics are obviously pretty shallow, but at least there is a line about how it won't last forever. That's not my problem anyway. My problem is that the chorus bores me, musically. Like, it hurts. There are two notes I think? And the beat is the same throughout. I always sort of ignored this song before, but on actively trying to listen to it, I have started to hate it. It doesn't interact well with my brain chemistry.

The Knack -- "My Sharona" -- August 25, 1979

This became a hit again when Reality Bites came out. So I danced in a convenience store to it my freshman year of college. We were "of the younger kind" then, considering I was 17. That made me like the song better -- it was about me! Rock isn't supposed to be clean, and you're really not supposed to take it as advice. The riff is amazing, and I love this song.

Robert John -- "Sad Eyes" -- October 6, 1979

I've never heard this song before. The music box sounding intro lasts a while and lulls you into complacency before the horrible falsetto kicks in. Not only extremely 70s white man falsetto, but an entitled brat of a man breaking up with a woman and being put out that she's looking at him with "sad eyes." Incredibly bad in an incredibly 70s way. I can see why I've never heard this song before. It's absolutely terrible.

Michael Jackson -- "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" -- October 13, 1979

Sigh. All right, now that he's an adult, gotta tackle Michael Jackson. He was a rampant and, as far as we know, unrepentant child molester. He destroyed people in the most personal way possible short of actual murder. (Phil Spector is still worse.) He was murdered through at least extreme malpractice by his doctor. He was forced into stardom as a child himself. And he was a huge, massive, incredibly gigantic star, even after he became a punchline. I was never a big fan, but like most children of the 80s, I loved some of his songs and spent a lot of time doing the moonwalk, or as close as I could get. I feel an immense amount of pity for him, along with utterly despising him, along with admiring his talent, along with being sickened by the fact that Hollywood and the music industry knew and no one did anything about what he was doing. All in all, I end up at this place: Child stardom must end.

Okay, now for the music. This song takes forever to actually start. Also I have actually never heard it before today. Probably because it's falsetto. Jackson's falsetto is obviously far superior to Barry Gibb's, but it's still falsetto the whole song. The riff is great once it starts, and everything about the music should be good -- but, falsetto. The whole time, as far as I can tell. I can't listen to all of it. Whose idea was it that falsetto should ever be anything other than an occasional few bars? Was it Frankie Valli? I'm gonna blame Frankie Valli.

Herb Alpert -- "Rise" -- October 20, 1979

It's a jazz-funk instrumental and it's pretty good. Piano, guitar, trumpet, some kind of glittering thing -- xylophone? Bells? The people laughing like it's a laid-back party are annoying, but not enough to wreck the song. If this doesn't play on every cruise ship ever, they're missing a trick.

M -- "Pop Music" -- November 3, 1979

I saw the title, and thought I didn't know the song. Then I heard the first bars of the song and went, "OH this one." It's New Wave. I love a lot of New Wave, but this one's on the purposefully shallow end, rather than the Eurythmics end. The lyrics are nonsense, but the beat is pretty irresistable. Which makes it a dance song, whatever its intent. One of the lines is, "Dance in the supermarket," so it probably was intended to be danced to. In any case, I find it pretty forgettable, but fine.

The Eagles -- "Heartache Tonight" -- November 10, 1979

I've heard this song before, but not often. I'm not sure if it's about sex before a breakup or about cheating. Don Henley does not have Elvis' voice, though he seems to be trying to reach that level. Real power is required for the chorus, and Henley lacks it. If this were sung by Freddie Mercury, we'd have something. Queen also would have brought more musical interest generally. But as-is, it doesn't work for me.

The Commodores' -- "Still" -- November 17, 1979

Lionel Richie was still the frontman/ writer for The Commodores here. Should I explore why I can't stand Lionel Richie's music? I'd have to listen to it more to fully understand. It always sounds totally insincere to me. The songs themselves are too slow. This one doesn't have a bassline. It's so polished and gloopy. And in this song, that pause between "I love you" and "still" is both highly predictable and entirely phony. I managed to listen to the entire song, and I rolled my eyes throughout, but especially at that last whispered "still." Oh he's just so sad puh-leaze. Crying his way to the bank.

Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer -- "No More Tears" -- November 24, 1979

I hate Barbra Streisand's singing and like Donna Summer's. I wish this were just Donna Summer. If it were, I'd probably like the song. It's slow for almost 2 minutes, then becomes disco. Streisand isn't able to do as much self-loving in a fast dance song, but it's still there. I tried to find a version with just Donna Summer and failed. So, I dunno, the fact that I can actually listen to the whole thing makes me think it's the most tolerable song with Barbra Streisand in existence. But it would have been so much better without her.

Styx -- "Babe" -- December 8, 1979

Styx was prog rock, but watered-down, simplified prog-rock. Lite prog rock, as weird as that is. But they still had that massive theatricality of prog rock, which I like, and they were great for places like Pine Knob. Outside of those massive arenas, they don't work for me. Dennis DeYoung, the writer and singer of this song, belts the whole way through. Yeah, he hits the notes, but he doesn't seem to realize you're supposed to sometimes modulate, even on a power ballad. Meh.

Rupert Holmes -- "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" -- December 22, 1979

If you take this song seriously, you're likely to hate it. It ain't that deep. It's a goofy song about a goofy thing -- both he and his wife are bored and want to cheat, so they write personal ads, and lo, they answer each other's personals! Though how that happens when they're the blandest Reaganite yuppies ever, I'm not sure. Maybe it's because they're both full of themselves ("if you have half a brain.") I enjoy this song because it is catchy, silly, and totally non-serious. I do not like pina coladas, btw.

BEST OF 1979: "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor. WORST OF 1979: "Love You Inside Out" by the Bee Gees

#billboard number ones

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doomedandstoned · 4 years

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Vessel Of Light Return For Harrowing ‘Last Ride’

~By Tom Hanno~

A few years back, Argonauta Records released an EP from a project named VESSEL OF LIGHT. I loved the band's name the minute I read it, and their music was amazing; the lyrical content was dark, the vocals themselves sounded equally dark, and the riffs were well crafted, doom influenced works of art.

The band quickly followed up that EP by releasing two more albums with hardly any gaps between them; the Argonauta released Woodshed (my personal favorite), and the self released Thy Serpent Rise. Now, on October 23rd, they are dropping their 4th release in three years, 'Last Ride' (2020), on Nomad Eel Records.

Vessel of Light is a project that first began in 2017, starting off as a collaboration between Ancient VVidsdom's Nathan Opposition, and Dan Lorenzo, the guitarist of Hades, Non- Fiction, and The Cursed; the latter featuring Overkill's Bobby Blitz on vocals. The duo later enlisted Ron Lipnicki, who had previously drummed for Overkill, and ex- Hades bassist, Jimmy Schulman, for the studio sessions of Thy Serpent Rise; both of them are now full fledged members of the group.

On Last Ride, we find the band doing what they do best, but with what seems like renewed energy. In my opinion, the addition of Ron and Jimmy helped fill out their sound, and these guys are a very tight unit musically.

One thing that really sticks out when I listen to the album is the drumming, which is absolutely fantastic! Ron plays exactly what each song needs, his parts are interesting without being over the top, and the overall tone of his kit is among the best of the underground scene.

I would normally begin with the first few tracks on the album, but, since this is my preferred song, we're jumping ahead to the ninth track, "In the Silence". This, in my humble opinion, is the best song the band has written to date. My reasoning for this is based upon many things, but the biggest one is the song writing; especially the guitar part during the verse. That riff is heavy, haunting, slow, and creates the perfect atmosphere for Nathan's vocals.

This opinion was made without even considering how incredible Nathan's performance really is, because these vocals sound so damn good, and the lyrical content is probably the best on the entire record.

My second preferred track is the one called, "Torture King", which begins with a bass and drum riff that is actually the main riff of the song. I always liked these types of intros, because when the distorted guitar kicks in, the power increases tenfold.

Another aspect of this one that I find interesting is its composition, there's only like 3, maybe 4, different guitar parts. The intro and chorus are the same riff, the verse is just a stripped down, palm muted variation of that part, then there's a mid section with another riff, and then it returns to the main piece of the track; yet, despite being that bare bones, it's still one of the best pieces of music on this release.

"Carving Station" is another track that stood out to me, and a lot of that has to do with the lyrical content. Nathan writes from the viewpoint of a serial killer, and he does it with a mastery that ignites my true crime fascination; I don't think any of these lyrics are based upon actual crimes, but he writes so well that the feeling comes nonetheless.

The music for this one is also excellent, with the main guitar riff being used as a building block for how Nathan executed his parts. Dan is a master riff writer, and "Carving Station" is no exception to this rule; he is also one of the most prolific songwriters that I'm aware of at the moment.

There's No Escape by Vessel of Light

I noticed that there's a massive Alice in Chains vibe on some of these tracks; particularly in "Disappearing Pact". The way the guitars flow, Nathan's vocal approach, and the sludgy tone of those guitars really brings to mind the Purple Album from AIC; making this just one more badass song on an album full of badass songs.

"Web of Death" is also worthy of mentioning, with its high energy, killer drumming, and Dan's guitar tone is super sweet. We aren't covering any new ground with the lyrics, but that's exactly what I love about the band; we know what we're getting with a new Vessel of Light release, and they always up the ante musically.

If it isn't already painfully obvious, I absolutely love Vessel of Light, and Last Ride is just one more reason for you to dig into this band now! They don't sound like the majority of watered down stoner doom bands, and thank the gods for that. October 23rd is coming up quickly, so get on it and preorder the album today. Enjoy!

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#D&S Reviews #Vessel of Light #Dan Lorenzo #Nathan Opposition #Ancient VVisdom #Doom #Metal #Heavy Metal #Tom Hanno #Doomed & Stoned

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gretavanfleetconfessions · 4 years

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My vote is for all of them dude! I wanna hear your opinion on all of them

Okay!!! Thank you so much 😍💕🎶

What I think of their looks: I think that they are all SO FUCKING gorgeous. Sometimes in an ethereal, unreal sort of way (coughSamcough) but also in a normal way a lot of the times. Josh has acne and scars, Sam has a larger nose and is painfully thin, Danny also has a big nose and heavy brows and he's a regular guy, Jake looks fucking dead and I still think he's attractive but, honestly, the least attractive. Plus, when they don't "dress up" (though I've mentioned a couple times today already that I LOVE that) they just look like they're still the neighborhood boy gang from Michigan. It's very endearing how young or ordinary they can look one minute and then WOWW HOT the very next. It's certainly not all about the looks, but they are each very unique and pretty in their own ways and I love to look at them. (Also, for the record, I am gonna BITE Joshie's ass)

What I think of the music: So amazing. My mom hates Josh's voice which causes me endless distress because I LOVE it. He has SUCH a beautiful pitch and range, it's very primal but he can be gentle when he wants, and I r ealky lobe the fact that they've sort of molded their sound around him. Jake is, of course, a guitar god, and I like all the little tricks he does and the twists he puts on things, the emotions so clear in his playing. Fucking awesome riffs!!! Danny is a BEAST as we all know and it's so fun to watch him play, he gets really inti the music and it's so apparent he's having the time if his life and I love that. Sam also gets into the music a lot, his bass/key faces are so funny to me lol. He's so talented! Very melodic and his playing locks in perfectly with Danny, they really are a tight rhythm section. Overall, they're sort of genre/vibe/style or whatever you want to call it is wonderful. It's emotional, it's fun and energetic, it's passionate, it's aesthetically pleasing to the ear, and I just like it a lot!!!

What I think of the girlfriend controversies (that might be clear already Idk): I may or may not have shown my opinions in subtext, but I do NOT approve of being rude to a person's family or significant other just because you have feelings for them. That includes rumors. Like, I can sympathize and understands some of the confessions I've gotten about simply being jealous of the boy's girlfriends; however, I get very upset when people are straight up mean and petty towards their them. It is not our place to decide who they date, when day date, what kind of relationships they're in, what actions they take, or anything else in their lives. It's hard to remember and hard to hear but these guys do not belong to us!!! We don't own them. And, their girlfriends have done nothing wrong! I know that it's nice to think about dating Jake and that it hurts when you see him dating someone that is not you, but you can't just being mean to his girlfriend. That's not okay at all!

What it's like running this blog: it's really fun! I feel so special to be trusted enough to run a confessions blog. I know that the anonymous function enables people to say whatever they like and I would never, ever give away anyone's identity about any sort of confession if they did go off of anonymous, but I am still so grateful that I have this opportunity to look at all the secrets that everyone has and be trusted with them. I try my best to be a good confession blog Runner and I hope that I do not disappoint anyone

Dirty/bad/funny etc confessions I have about them:

All right, I guess it's time for me to share some of my own confessions!!

I agree that Sam has a foot fetish. I don't care. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, you know? There's no harm in it. I am openly critical of a lot of Kinks & BDSM things, because I think that they can harmful or used to abuse someone. I just want people to be okay. But, having a "body fetish" as I call it, is not harmful at all! No one gets hurt from liking armpits or feet or hair or anything else. I don't think that there is anything wrong with it, even if it is uncommon, and I don't want Sam to be hated on whether he actually has one or not.

From most attractive to least attractive, I rank the boys Sam, Josh, Danny, Jake come. I think that they are all very hot and very beautiful, but there is just something about Sam and Josh that gets me. And I do still think that Jake is attractive, but it's more the energy he puts out. He has this very Suave and Cool vibe, like he knows everything and knows how to make you feel good, and he is very confident about it, but he's also a sweetheart. He's wonderful! They all are

Several of the confessions from the first week or so of this blog are my own. I was worried that there wouldn't be enough concessions for me to publish and that this whole blog would fail because no one was interested. However, since we are celebrating the hundredth confession and there are over fifty asks in the inbox, my worries are clearly unfounded! I'm not going to tell y'all which confessions are mine, you'll have to figure that out for yourself

My favorite confession so far: anything about how happy they make people or about how beautiful they are! It's great to know that people agree with me about how hot their androgyny is

My least favorite confession so far: anything that unnecessarily criticizes. I am in this for the music, and for the love that they clearly have for each other and their craft. I don't like that some people are rude to their girlfriends, that they obsess over every little action they take specially one people can change, and that they expect the boys to be Saints. They're not. They're human, but they are all lovely and sweet and genuine and I enjoy the music that they put out. Nothing else matters

Literally anything about GVF or this blog or even not:

#gvf #ask #celebration

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antivan-beau · 4 years

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Will you do headcanons for OCs? Because I want to know more about Beatrice Cousland.

BLESS YOU for asking me about my OC.

Ah, Beatrice. Not actually my canon Warden, nor a character I’ve even played, but I adore her.

General Opinion: Beatrice is an affable jock. She loves her friends and big swords. Painfully earnest. Strong Cousland sense of Duty and Obligation. Has a straightforward, lawful good sense of right and wrong - so simple that it tends to get her into trouble, because it’s hard for her to see nuance or both sides of an issue. She tends not to explain herself and just does her own thing.

Sexuality: Bisexual with a slight preference towards women.

Gender: Cisgender woman.

A ship I have with said character: Beatrice and Morrigan have an unlikely romance. They start off as purely platonic tent-mates because they find they sleep more soundly together than apart. Morrigan is very private. Beatrice is an open-book. They have frequent miscommunications. Although she plays it cool, Beatrice actually falls in love quickly - Morrigan is intelligent, capable, beautiful, and has a really strange worldview, which makes Beatrice relentlessly curious to figure her out. Morrigan grows to respect Beatrice’s conviction and resolve. After months of sleeping in the same tent, deep late-night conversations by the campfire, having each others’ backs in the thick of battle, etc, Beatrice just assumes they’re dating, while Morrigan experiences it as an agonizing slow-burn of trying to understand all these feelings, ugh. Morrigan has some comphet to work through. I’ve written fic about the earliest phase of their relationship :)

A BROTP I have with said character: Beatrice and Leliana have a very sincere friendship. They’re both deeply moral, but Leliana is more worldly and pragmatic. On the road, they get into pun riffs or singalongs that drive the rest of the party insane. Initially, they actually bond because Beatrice believes in Leliana’s vision.

Besides Leliana, Zevran is Beatrice’s best bud. They hooked up for a bit when he first joined the party, but they turned out to be better friends than lovers. Physical touch is important to both of them, so their friendship includes lots of sparring, braiding each others’ hair, back rubs, being bros who hold hands, etc. (Zevran/Alistair is eventually canon in this worldstate.)

A NOTP I have with said character: Beatrice and Alistair are like siblings. Before the Landsmeet, they ponder the idea of a purely political marriage, but they just can’t bring themselves to go through with it.

A random headcanon: After defeating the archdemon, Beatrice becomes Warden-Commander for a few years. Once the Grey Wardens are rebuilt enough to be self-sustaining, she disappears one day to try to find Morrigan. They live together in Orlais, with Beatrice keeping a low profile, and raise Kieran together.

#beatrice cousland #warden cousland #my ocs #asks #hawkeward original

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

IT Fandom Prompt Week - Day 7 - Famous / Band AU

@constantreaderfool @xandertheundead @tinyarmedtrex

Final Prompt for IT Prompt week 2019.

Read on AO3 HERE

Like many people, the first metal band that Eddie listened to was Metallica. He was 16, and had spent the day at Bev’s house, the balmy evening sun hanging heavy and bloated in the sky. They’d sat at the bottom of her garden, legs bare and grass between their toes. Bev’s old cassette tape player was balanced precariously on a rickety wooden chair, the tapes lay scattered around the grass, like plastic flowers. Eye’s half-closed, Eddie was listening to Bev tell him about the book she’d been reading, and how he should read it before they start their college degrees in the fall. Bev’s voice, pitchy and animated, fought with Morrissey’s crooning voice, and Eddie let himself swim in the noise. That was, until Bev changed the tape, and an unrelenting guitar riff came booming out of the tinny speakers. Eddie’s eyes snapped open.

“Who’s this?” Eddie asked, shifting so he was propped up against the fence.

“Huh? Oh, Metallica. They’re pretty good, right!”

“Yeah,” Eddie mused, bobbing his head slightly along with the rhythmic chugging of the guitar, “yeah they’re pretty good”

That night, Eddie had practically skipped home, fanny-pack stuffed with as many cassette tapes as Bev could wedge in there without breaking the zip. The bands are those he has never heard of before, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Nine Inch Nails. Bev promised that he’ll love them, and he trusted her.

A few days later, Eddie escaped the stifling confines of his mother’s house to join Bev on a trip to the local record store. Bev immediately tugged him over to the ‘rock and metal’ section, where they spent ages flicking through the tapes, Bev filling Eddie’s hands with tapes in a matter of minutes. Eddie, who had felt out of place in a dingy record store in his pressed khakis and pastel yellow polo shirt, had immediately struck up a conversation with the friendly guy behind the counter, who couldn’t have been any older than he was.

“First time?” The guy asked, picking through the tapes that Eddie had dumped on the counter, looking for the price stickers.

“Pardon?”

“First time somewhere like this? You have the first time kinda look, like you’re afraid the tapes will bite you or something”

“Oh,” Eddie replied, scuffing his feet on the floor, “Yeah, it’s my first time. Bev said she’d been in here loads and it’s cheaper than the store downtown, so…”

The guy laughed, a warm laugh that rang in the quiet store like a bell.

“Yeah, Bev’s in here a lot. Doesn’t spend much money, though !”

“Bite me, Hanlon”

“Ever the charmer, Miss Marsh,” The guy turned back to Eddie, “As rude as she is, Bev has good taste. You’re definitely in safe hands, but you can always come in here and I can help you, if you get sick of her forcing you to listen to Trent Reznor’s entire discography over and over and over again”

“I’m warning you, Michael!” Bev hollered, brandishing a vinyl record like a weapon.

– X –

Soon enough, Eddie fell into a routine. He’d wait until his mother fell into a deep, sleeping-pill induced sleep in front of her soap operas, and shut the lounge room door, painfully slowly to stop it creaking. Then, he’d charge upstairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Whilst Eddie looked everything the picture-perfect poster-boy for “good boys” everywhere, from his perfectly coiffed hair, his crisp, 100% cotton polo shirts, and even down to his sensible, chalk-white sketchers, he had a secret hiding under his bed.

Under his bed, behind the stacks of biology and chemistry textbooks and old shoes that don’t fit him anymore, lurks a small metal box, and a rusty cassette player. The metal box is home to his ever expanding collection of tapes, and he’d take great pleasure in passing his fingers over the spines of the cases, like he was choosing the biggest, most decadent chocolate in the box. His fingers almost always landed on Metallica first, his gate-way drug. He’d disrobe the tape, and place it into the cassette player, but not before he’d plugged his monstrously large headphones into the jack. Cranking up the volume, Eddie would place the cassette player next to him on the bed, and lie back, and drift.

Master of puppets I'm pulling your strings Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Eddie would spend hours listening to Rob Halford’s demonic screaming if his mother had been particularly taxing that evening, or if his day had been slow and lazy, Ozzy Osborne would sing him to sleep, regaling him with tales of faeries dancing with dwarves. Soon enough, and without any real effort, Eddie became a secret, but die-hard, metal-head.

– X –

A note hit the back of Eddie’s head in chemistry.

Anthrax are playing at oil slick in Bangor! We gotta go. B x

Eddie tries to protest, he really does. He sits under the bleachers with Bev at lunch, and tries to convince her that he’d never be allowed to go to a show in Bangor, that his mother would never let him, that he can’t lie to her, really Bev, I’ve tried, I’m a terrible liar.

She doesn’t take no for an answer, and sure enough, when the night of the show arrives, Eddie is sat in his bedroom at half past six, practically vibrating with nerves. He knew that his mother would be dead to the world in a few minutes, passed out for a whole twelve hours. Eddie thanked the God of Nyquil and prescription medicine. When the familiar rumble of his mother’s snores starts to seep through his floorboards, Eddie throws open his window, takes a deep breath, and leaps like a frog onto the branch of the big tree that stands dormant outside his window.

He runs straight to Bev’s aunts house, and they both clamber in her rickety Sedan, Bev, who had recently turned 17 and was now trusted with her Aunt’s car, at the wheel. Eddie was wearing the black straight-leg jeans he’d begged his mother to buy him, and Beverly Marsh, his lord and saviour, had lent him one of her old leather jackets and her Iron Maiden tour shirt that fit him like a glove. Together with Bev clad in enough leather to upholster a couch, they drove to Bangor.

Eddie had the best night of his life, and crawled back in through his bedroom window at four am the next morning, sweaty and disgusting, but happier than he’d been in years.

– X –

When Bev’s aunt gets a PR job at Iron Horns, the best heavy metal festival this side of the Atlantic, Eddie almost squeezes the life out of Bev when she invites him to go with them. He was eighteen, and on the precipice of adulthood. He’s staring down the crevasse of responsibility, college degrees, mortgages and student loan repayments, and the void is staring straight back at him. He toyed with the idea of telling his mother that her little Eddie-Bear spends his weekends lurking in dive bars listening to boys with longer hair than most girls scream into the microphone, and he plans on getting dirty in a field for a weekend with his best friend.

He, of course, doesn’t do this, and instead told his mother that Bill and Ben have invited him to go camping with them, and he wanted to go. Predictably, she wasn’t happy, and bleated on at him about bears and poison ivy until she was blue in the face and panting, but she couldn’t catch Eddie as he sprinted down the path, backpack bulging on his back, pop-up tent in hand.

Iron Horn’s was huge. The site was a sprawling sea of grass, tents and stages, and as they drove down the make-shift drive-way to the staff car-park, Eddie could feel himself begin to panic. His hand instinctively tried to find the inhaler he has stashed in his fanny-pack, but Bev’s hand caught his hand in hers and squeezed. They held hands until they got out of the car.

Bev’s Aunt Lucy was ‘head of logistics’ for the entire festival, something that makes Eddie gawp with awe, and because she was such an important cog in the machine of the festival, they had arrived one day before the music started. Lucy was also able to throw her weight around a bit and swing them a camping plot in the staff and VIP section of the festival, something that calmed Eddie’s nervous jitters. The staff camping had a regular block of toilets, so he wouldn’t have to venture into alien territory … the dreaded porta-loo.

The staff camping ground is made up of plots of grass for people to pitch tents, but it also had porta-cabins for the musicians. Eddie scanned the names on the doors, finding that he recognises all but one of the bands.

“Bev, who are Crimson Nightmare?” Eddie asked Bev, trying to help her pitch their tent, but mostly just getting in her way.

“Huh. I have no idea, but they’re headlining the second day so I guess they’re probably pretty good” Bev huffed, trying to bash the tent-pegs into the firm ground with the heel of her boot.

Once they (or rather, Bev) had finished pitching their tent, they both clambered inside with their bags, and proceeded to get changed out of their travelling clothes. Most of the clothes that Eddie has brought with him are Bev’s hand-me-downs, or things that she’s bought him for Christmas, or just because. Eddie changes into one of Bev’s ripped Judas Priest shirts, and a pair of her tightest black skinny jeans that just about fit him if he doesn’t breathe too deeply. Luckily, because Bev’s feet are the size of common shrews, Eddie has his own boots that he’d saved up for with money from various birthday’s. Obviously he can’t keep the boots at home because his mother would find them and burn them in a sacrifice to the God’s of easy listening music, so they live in the trunk of Bev’s Aunt’s car for him to change into when they go to shows. They’re beaten up old black Docs that he bought in a thrift shop. He swapped out the characteristic yellow laces for rainbow ones, and he let Bill draw dancing skeletons on them in white sharpie. Eddie treasured those damn boots.

Once they’re changed, Eddie and Bev head over to the VIP tent where they grab some food. The VIP tent was home to a catering service, and a small bar for the staff and the musicians to wind down in the evening. Upon walking through the entrance flap, Eddie was immediately star-struck. There are people from his favourite bands milling around, talking to each other, laughing, shouting, existing. As he looked around, Eddie realised that no-one else looked quite as starstruck as he did, which made him feel all sorts of ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He continued to stare at Layne Staley.

Once Eddie and Bev had finished their food, and Eddie was trying not to stare at the lead singer from Steel Martyr too much, he caught the eye of a tall guy with intense dark eyes and a wicked smile leaning nonchalantly against the bar. Eddie doesn’t recognise him, so he assumed that he must be a light tech, or an audio engineer, or maybe even a roadie. He also looks very young, perhaps no older than nineteen. This, accompanied with the fact that he’s wearing sweatpants with an old hoodie, suggested to Eddie that he couldn’t be a member of a metal band. The guy held Eddie’s gaze for a beat too long, and before he glanced back to the bartender, the stranger winked at Eddie.

Against his will, Eddie felt the all too familiar heat in his cheeks – an unfortunate indication that his face was blooming a violent scarlet red. Eddie snapped his head away, eliciting an loud bark of laughter from the stranger at the bar. Bev, who had been too busy trying to surreptitiously roll a joint under the table, looks up when she heard the laugh.

“Eddie, why is that guy over there staring at you?”

“…Wuh-What?,” Eddie stutters, fertilizing the glint in Bev’s eye, “What guy? There’s no guy”

“Uh… Yeah there is, that one” Bev snorts, and turned in her seat to point directly at the stranger, who waved at her.

“Him? What about him? I don’t even know him” Eddie mumbled, staring very intently at an interesting speck of dirt on the floor.

“Well, he’s been staring at you since we got here, he laughed at you about thirty seconds ago, and now he’s coming over here”

“WHAT!”

“Yeah, he’s totally coming over here!” Bev squealed, looking positively gleeful.

Eddie snapped his head up, and sure enough, the stranger in the sweatpants was striding over purposefully, his eyes glued on Eddie.

Eddie stared back at him, eyes owlish and ridiculous.

“I guess I’m gonna have to make the first move, then?” was the first thing the sweatpants-stranger said, as he plonked himself down in the empty seat to Eddie’s right.

“Um” was all Eddie said in response.

Bev was thirty seconds away from howling with laughter judging by the look on her face, and Eddie prayed that embarrassment was a painless way to die.

“Hi! I’m Bev, and this beetroot looking thing here is Eddie”

“Nice to meetcha, Red. The name’s Richie. D’ya have a voice, short-stack?”

“I do as it happens” Eddie replied, snottily.

“Oof. I like ‘em spicy. Come here often?”

“Do you speak only in pick-up lines or are you capable of stringing a coherent sentence together?”

“Get yer coat love, you’ve pulled”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and angled his body away from Richie’s.

He knew what this game was, and he intended to play to win.

“Hey now, I’m just playing with you” Richie cooed, taking Eddie’s bait, “In all seriousness, whatcha doing here? You performing this weekend?”

“Naw, my Aunt is the head of logistics for the fest so we came along for the ride. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Tool for the fifth time!” Bev responded, speaking for Eddie, who raised his eyebrows at her gratefully.

“Ah, of course. Gotta admit, I’m pretty heartbroken I’m not gonna get to see little Eddie Spaghetti losing his shit on that big stage, though. I bet that’s a real pretty sight”

“And what are you doing here, then? Light tech, or something?” Eddie interjected, a feeble attempt to steer the conversation away from himself.

“Something like that. A bitta’ this, a bitta’ that. Jack of all trades, me”

Eddie wasn’t entirely satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t push it any further.

“Can I get you both a drink?” Richie asked, drawing Eddie out of his introspection.

“Are you over twenty-one?” Eddie affirmed, sceptical.

“Nah, but I’ve known Jonsey for a few years now. He’s not worried about silly little things like legal drinking ages”

“Uh ..,” Eddie looked at Bev for confirmation, and much to his chagrin Bev gave him the most ridiculous, and most unsubtle thumbs up ever.

“Okay, sure,” Eddie relents, “just get me whatever you’re having”

“Are you sure you can handle that?” Richard said with a wink. Eddie stared at the floor again, eyes wandering over Richie’s boots. The laces were not proper laces at all, and were instead blue string, frayed and threadbare.

“I’ll have a jack and coke, if you’d be so kind. Lotta Jack, not so much coke” Bev asks, smiling up at Richie.

“That’s a lot of booze for a young lady like yourself” Richie drawled in something Eddie supposed was supposed to be a southern accent.

“Bite me”

“If you’re sure”

Eddie sort of expected Bev to tell Richie to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She did something much more surprising.

“Hey Eddie, why don’t you go and help Richie carry the drinks? I’m just gonna –“ she gestures to the opening of the tent and waggles the spliff between her fingers.

“Aw, man. I’m hitting on the wrong person here. Any chance of a do-over, Red?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance, Trashmouth. I’ll be back in a few, Eddie, go help with the drinks!” Bev says again, a little bit more insistent this time.

“What a marvellous idea! Come on, Spaghetti” Richie announced, sending a look towards Bev that Eddie didn’t understand.

Eddie stood up, wordless, and followed Richie towards the bar, but not before sending a silent “what the fuck?!” Bev’s way. She just smiled at him, stuck her thumbs up, and disappeared out of the tent.

Eddie waited at the bar with Richie, who was drumming out the beat of a song that Eddie doesn’t recognise on the polished wood.

“Bev has a girlfriend, you know,” Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself, “just so you, y’know … know”

“Does she? That’s nice. Now, do you have a boytoy, Mr Eds?”

“but … aren’t you trying to hit on her?”

“Uh, I’m definitely trying to hit on someone, but it ain’t Red”

“Then … who …”

Richie looked at Eddie square in the face with epitome of are you shitting me written across his face.

“…oh”

“Yeah, Oh” Richie mocked, laughing. Eddie couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glittering despite the low light of the tent.

Unsure of what to say, Eddie remained silent for a few beats too long, but he was saved when the bartender came over to take their order. Richie orders Bev’s drink, before also ordering two pints of hard cider, one of which he passes to Eddie.

“So, to return to our previous conversation, is there a Mrs Eddie Spaghetti waiting for you at home?”

“Okay, you gotta stop with all this spaghetti stuff. It’s just Eddie”

“Sure. Is there a Mrs Just-Eddie waiting for you at home?”

“Wait – hang on. How did you even know I like men?”

“Lucky guess” Richie boasted, waggling his eyebrows.

Eddie stared at him until Richie burst out laughing.

“No, Seriously! It was a lucky guess. I was fully prepared for you to tell me that Red was your girl and that I’d have to slink off with my tail in between my legs”

“Bev will find that hilarious when I tell her that”

“C’mon, S’getti you’re killing me,” Richie groaned, “should I persist in my pathetic attempts to woo you or am I wasting my time?”

Eddie pretended to think, and rubbed his chin with the hand that wasn’t holding his cider.

“I’m not sure I wanna tell you, yet. I’m quite enjoying watching you squirm”

“You sadist” Richie shot back immediately.

Eddie stood up on his tiptoes and whispered, “you don’t know the half of it” directly into the shell of Richie’s ear, before he swiftly turned on his heel and slinked back to the table.

“I’m taking that as a ‘Yes, Richie, please continue trying to get into my pants!’” Richie yelled after him.

Eddie threw his head back, and laughed.

– X –

When they got back to their tent that evening after staggering back across the field, Bev and Eddie collapsed onto the same tiny air mattress and curled around each other like inebriated kittens.

“Sooooo?” Bev drawled, as she tried to pull her boots off without unlacing them first.

“Whazzit? What?”

“Richie? D’ya like him? Because I’m pretty sure he’s gone all kissy-kissy-mushy-mushy over a certain little spaghetttiiiiii”

“oh m’god, shut’p,” Eddie slurred, and he tried to hit Bev on the arm but missed by a good six inches, “he’s just … uh … flirtatious”

“Naw, Eddie, he’s desperate to, y’know, get in there!” Bev laughed hysterically, as she pointed at Eddie’s crotch.

Eddie rolled his eyes, at least he thought he did, he’s definitely too drunk to tell.

“C’mere, tiny, I wanna spooooon” Bev moaned, grabbing Eddie.

They both fell asleep almost instantly after that, Bev’s arm wrapped snugly around Eddie’s waist.

– X –

The next morning Eddie woke up with a mouth that tasted like he’d gargled with white spirit, and, surprisingly, no headache and a stomach that only felt a tiny bit like a whirlpool.

Bev, on the other hand, wailed like a banshee when Eddie shifted on the air mattress to open the tent flap, letting a stream of cool air into the tent.

“Edward, I will cut off you bollocks if you let any more light in”

Eddie slipped out of the tent, leaving Bev to her hangover. The sun was already high in the sky, and Eddie guessed it couldn’t have been earlier than eleven or midday. His mother would definitely never have let him sleep in this late. The music started today, the first band taking to the main stage at 3pm. There seemed to be more people than Eddie had ever seen in his life charging around the staff camping grounds, carrying various bits of rigging, instruments and electrical equipment. Eddie sat on the grass outside his tent, trying to psyche himself up enough to make the long, arduous 500 metre walk to the bathrooms to brush his teeth, when a large hand clamped on his shoulder. Eddie barely managed to suppress his scream.

“Howdy, neighbour!”

“Oh my God, it’s you”

“That isn’t a very nice way to greet your beloved now is it, Eddie?”

“I thought I’d dreamt you up in an alcohol-induced fever dream” Eddie deadpanned as Richie all but threw himself down on the grass next to him.

“Naw,” was all Richie said, closing his eyes against the light of the sun. Eddie swore he could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of Richie’s nose multiply in front of his eyes.

They sat without talking for a while, listening to the hustle and bustle of the campsite. Richie looked exhausted, and Eddie wanted to let Richie rest his head in his lap while he stroked Richie’s wild hair until he was snoring.

“So … plan on seeing any good bands today?” Eddie asked awkwardly, consciously aware of the fact that the Dutch courage previously coursing through his veins had evaporated overnight.

“I dunno, yet. Who are you going to see?”

“Bev wants to see Def Leppard, who I’m not majorly fussed about, but I have to go see ‘em if she’ll even think about coming with me to see Kiss”

“Where is Red this morning, anyway? Is that … is that tent of yours empty?”

“She’s still asleep”

“Cockblock” Richie cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Eddie to hear it.

“You’re very presumptuous, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of this” Richie replied, with a serious edge to his voice.

Eddie blinked.

“Make a habit of what?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“This,” Richie gestured to Eddie and then back to himself and repeated the action, “I’m not … I don’t do this stuff”

“Richie, I’m confused”

“Never mind, sugar. I’ll explain it to you when you’re older”

Before Eddie could protest that he wanted Richie to explain his cryptic message now and not later, a rather dishevelled and grumpy looking Bev poked her head out of the tent.

“Okay. One, Eddie, I love you but you are so dense that light bends around you. Two, can you guys go flirt somewhere else please, it’s making my stomach churn”

“Top o’the mornin’ to ya, lassie!” Richie bellowed in an awful Irish accent, shuffling closer to Eddie to allow Bev more space to clamber out of the tent.

Bev collapsed on the grass next to them, rubbing her head.

“Do you have any painkillers in that magic fanny-pack of yours?” She asked Eddie, a pitiful twang to her voice.

Eddie nodded, and climbed back into the tent to search for the fanny-pack. When he’d grabbed it and climbed back out of the tent, Bev and Richie were sitting close, heads together, whispering frantically about something that Eddie couldn’t hear. Bev’s face was stern, like she was scolding a small child who had broken her favourite mug, and Richie’s eyebrows looked very insistent, but also vaguely scared. They sprang apart when Eddie climbed back out of the tent, painkillers in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He passed both items to Bev, who hoovered up two painkillers quicker than Eddie could blink.

“I gotta skedaddle now, my love. Promise you’ll stay faithful as you wait for me,” Richie announced as he stood up, and brushed stray blades of grass off his jeans.

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, Rich,” Eddie tried to joke, but it fell flat as Richie’s smile, only for the briefest of seconds, was replaced by a mask of hurt.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” and with that, Richie sauntered off, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head hanging uncharacteristically low.

“Eddie, what I need you to do right now, is go after him and apologise for being a dick”

“What did I do?!”

“You know exactly what you did”

Eddie did know.

The truth was, Eddie was harbouring a crush on Richie that was growing exponentially. He’d spotted him immediately as they’d walked into the VIP tent the day before. His heart had thumped wildly the entire time they sat close together, drinking cider and laughing, and he’d almost vomited every time Richie’s arm brushed his. Eddie had it bad. He knew this. But, try as he might, something kept him from entirely letting go. Something about the fact they’d met at a festival, miles and miles away from Eddie’s home town, and they’d probably never see each other again. He’d never experimented with casual sex, a nice fuck and a see you never! arrangement. He’d never given it much thought. Maybe he should.

Without another word, Eddie sprung up and chased after Richie, who was now rounding the corner by the toilet block.

“Rich!” Eddie called out, panting.

Richie turned around, and beamed at Eddie.

Eddie felt lighter.

“I’m sorry I’m a dick”

“You’re not a dick”

“I am, and I’m sorry. Do you … I dunno, do you wanna come see Def Leppard with us later, maybe? I mean – you don’t have to, I just meant if you have nothing better to –”

“I’d love to”

– X –

“POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME!” Eddie screamed along with Joe Elliott, thousands of other people, and Richie.

Bev had disappeared a few songs ago, pushing her way to the front barrier, but Eddie had hung back. He was stood directly in front of Richie, who had been whispering (or, more accurately, shouting) into his ear occasionally, and even in one delicious, ridiculous moment, picked Eddie up and stuck him on his shoulders. That didn’t last long because Eddie was terrified he’d fall off, but having his thighs wrapped around Richie’s neck was exhilarating for the four minutes it lasted.

“Eds, this might be the best day of my life,” Richie shouted, hot, moist breath tickling Eddie’s ear.

“I think me too!” Eddie shouted back, and the Richie did something that made Eddie’s brain shortcircuit.

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, crossing them over his stomach, and placed a large, wet-sounding kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Eddie didn’t dare blink, breathe, move or think.

“Thank you for inviting me” Richie whispered, and it was a real whisper this time, spoken directly into Eddie’s heart.

“it’s uh – no problem”

The band ripped into a cover of The Who’s ‘My Generation’, and much to Eddie’s annoyance, Richie released Eddie from his cobra-hold and tugged him forward, forward, forward until they ran into Bev at the barrier. Bev’s long orange hair was piled on top of her head, her face was sweaty and pink, and she looked absolutely radiant.

“This is our fucking song now!” Richie bellowed, hoisting Bev up on his shoulders like he had done to Eddie a few songs earlier.

Eddie grabbed Bev’s ankle and squeezed it. She smiled down at him, all teeth and tongue and happy, happy, happy.

– X –

The sun had fully set behind the massive stage, and Def Leppard had just finished their encore. The mass of people that had been surrounding Eddie, a coagulated mass of shadows and sharp elbows, parted like red sea as people slowly started to trickle out of the main arena and back towards the campsites. As they walked, shoulders bumping together occasionally, Eddie noticed several people staring at Richie, or pointing at him and whispering. Eddie glanced up at Richie to see if he’d noticed, only to find Richie looking down at him with soft eyes and a small, but genuine, smile.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fucking great, Rich. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did”

“Ah, that’s because I was there, obviously” Richie boasted.

Eddie could tell that he was joking, that he was just playing the game they’d been playing for the past twenty-four hours, but that didn’t stop Eddie from saying “yeah, it probably was”, as honest as the day is long.

Eddie’s honesty seemed to hit Richie in the stomach like a sucker punch, because he made this weird spluttering noise.

“Fucking hell, Sugar, you can’t just say stuff like that”

“Why?”

“Because – Never mind, I’m gonna walk you back to your tent, c’mon”

Eddie stopped walking, and tugged on Richie’s arm to get him to stop too. Richie swung around so he was facing Eddie, boot toe to boot toe.

“Richie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Eddie”

“Do what?”

“I can’t just keep this up. I can’t keep fucking – fucking dancing with you, laughing with you, letting you smile at me like that, and then when you cuddled with me during the show I was like, ‘oh my God, this is it, he does feel the same’ but then … then you go all cold on me or you glare at me or …” Richie trailed off, his eyes flickered between Eddie’s eyes and mouth.

“Richie, I – ”

“Please don’t, please don’t pity me or say you’re sorry, or anything like that. God, I’ll drop down dead if you say you’re sorry, Eds. It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I wasn’t joking about walking you back, though, c’mon, Bev will kill me if we’re back much later than – ”

Richie stopped talking because Eddie had kissed him.

Eddie curled his hand around Richie’s neck and dragged his face down, before he smashed his lips to Richie’s in a kiss that started off almost violent in its awkwardness but soon became soft and hesitant. Richie didn’t move at first, and Eddie almost pulled away, ready to sprint off to the campsite fuelled on nothing but mortal embarrassment, but just as Eddie had pulled his lips a millimetre away from Richie’s, Richie opened his mouth slightly, just barely, and kissed Eddie back.

They kissed, Richie’s hands cradling Eddie’s face, until someone came careening into Eddie’s back, sending him flying forwards into Richie’s chest, arms flailing wildly.

“Sorry, mate!”

“No problem, bro” Richie responded, voice low and gruff, and from his position squished up against Richie’s chest, Eddie laughed, poking at the soft flesh of Richie’s tummy with his index finger.

“Bro?” Eddie mocked.

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous”

“And yet, you kissed me”

“I did”

“So that makes you ridiculous as well”

“It does”

“Wanna do it again?”

“Yes”

This time, Richie kissed Eddie.

– X –

By the time they’d gotten back to the tent, Eddie wasn’t done with Richie. Not even close. They’d stopped a few times on the way back, mostly Richie cutting Eddie off with his tongue, or one time that Eddie got so frustrated with Richie doing that he shoved him up against a tree and kissed him until Richie couldn’t breathe. It still wasn’t enough. However, Eddie didn’t know how to ask for more, how to ask Richie to climb into his tent with him.

Bev wasn’t in the tent when Eddie poked his head in, but there was a note lying on the air mattress.

With my mom tonight, wanted to give you some space WINK WINK

Love you be safe I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you

Don’t show his this note

Or you can if you want

Richard I’ll kill you if you hurt him okay

Love you love you love you

Eddie loved Beverly so much he could scream.

“Uh… are you tired yet?” Eddie asked, trying to remain inconspicuous, but subtlety was never his strong point.

“Nope” Richie responded, popping the ‘P’.

“Do you wanna, come in? I can’t offer you coffee because … well, I don’t have any way of making any but I can offer you … lukewarm water?”

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Cut the shit”

Richie all but threw himself through the entrance of the tent, pouncing on Eddie with a loud ‘oof’. They both sprawled backwards, and Richie hovered over Eddie, his eyes dark.

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve been of anything for a very long time”

“Do you have … the necessarily equipment?”

“Are you talking about whether or not I have a dick? Because …” Eddie gestured to his crotch where, yes, it was very obvious that he was packing heat, thank you very much.

“No, you goof, I meant lube and stuff”

“Oh… yeah I do, hang on”

“You’re very … prepared”

“Jealous?”

“I would be if it wasn’t me in this tent with you right now”

“Well it is, so shut up and kiss me”

– X –

The next morning, Eddie had woken up with a crick in his neck. Richie had gone. What lay on the pillow where Richie’s head should have been, was Bev’s note. Or, rather, another note, scrawled on the back of Bev’s note.

Please get as close to the barrier as possible during Crimson Nightmare’s set

Please please please please

You fuckin’ rocked my world last night Eds

R x

– X –

Eddie looked behind him at the pulsing mass of people, blurring into one lacquered mass in the darkness of the night, random faces illuminated by the spotlights. Raucous chants surrounded him, a war cry, “CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE!”. It was cultish, and Eddie could feel himself becoming indoctrinated.

Without warning, the huge fluttering black cloth that had been obscuring the stage was sucked through a gap in the ceiling, and revealed the stage. The entire set was decked out to look like an industrial hellscape, all juddering fans, sharp looking pieces of metal jutting every which way and large metal platforms. Several huge industrial fans were stood in the centre of the stage, acting as a podium for an obscenely large drumkit. Eddie hardly noticed the stage, though, as he was preoccupied with looking at the elaborate venetian masks the band were wearing. They obscured almost their entire faces, and looked like they were made of a buttery-soft leather with horns curling skywards. The bassist was stood on a large piece of scaffolding stage right, and the lead guitarist was standing on the floor surrounded by shards of metal poking out of the floor stage left. The screams and hollers of the crowd grew deafening, and the guitarist ripped straight into a blistering riff that sounded like it’d been spat from the mouth of the devil himself. A scream tore its way out of Eddie’s body, and he began jumping up and down with the crowd, coagulating until he had become One with the throbbing mass of people.

Like Richie’s note had said, Eddie was right at the barrier. His ribs were being crushed against the hard metal every time he leapt up and down, but he hardly noticed it once the vocalist walked out onto stage. The vocalist walked with a swagger that punched Eddie straight in the gut, and before they had even managed to spit out a single syllable, Eddie almost collapsed on the floor. He was held up by Bev, who shot him a questioning look. Eddie didn’t dare speak, move, breath, blink.

“Aw man, look at you see of sexy bitches come all this way to see little old me?” the vocalist brayed, stamping his feet in time with the rhythmic booming of the bass drum.

The crowd roared back in response. Eddie couldn’t breathe.

The vocalist was wearing the same mask as the rest of his bandmates, but that didn’t matter.

“All this noise for me? Too fuckin’ bad I’m gonna make your ears fucking bleeeeeed. This one’s called ‘You’ll Float Too’ and you’re gonna fucking love it” Richie yelled, before screaming like a banshee and launching into the first song.

It was Richie.

It was Richie’s voice.

It was Richie’s voice, Richie’s raspy growl, Richie’s beaten up old boots.

The frontman of the last headliner of Iron Horns was the guy that Eddie had ridden on his shitty little air mattress in his shitty little tent the night before.

Eddie tapped Bev on the shoulder, and soon the taps became almighty whacks when she wouldn’t turn around, but when she did, Eddie knew that she knew.

“IS THAT?!”

“IT IS!”

“FUCKING HELL”

“I KNOW”

Richie paraded up and down the stage, the big black coat he was wearing flapping in the breeze of the industrial fans. Eddie was mesmerised by the way Richie made screaming into the microphone with such tenacity look easy, and the way that Richie leapt around the stage effortlessly. The crowd were screaming, and a pit opened up directly behind Eddie, who clung to the barrier, knuckles bright white, to avoid getting sucked into its depths. Bev, as she always did, disappeared into the centre of the hurricane, and was spat out again several minutes later, eyes gleaming, hair tousled.

– X –

Half way through their last song, Richie locked eyes with Eddie.

Eddie hadn’t been sure that Richie had seen him there, a fleck of sand on the beach, faceless amongst the crowd. But, half way through ‘No Dread, No Desire’, Richie’s eyes locked with his. Of course, Eddie initially thought that Richie could have just so happened to have been staring in his general direction, but when Richie practically ran to the spot directly in front of where Eddie was standing, all doubts dissolved. Richie dropped to his knees and belted the rest of the song directly at Eddie, who needed Bev to hold him up once more.

– X –

Even after Richie had sung the last note of the encore, and bid the crowd farewell, Eddie couldn’t move. He was glued to the spot, practically growing roots. Bev stood next to him, saying nothing, just breathing, loud and heavy breaths curling into the black sky like smoke.

“So”

“Richie’s in a band”

“Richie’s in … a fucking good band”

“You slept with him”

“I did”

“You slept with a guy in a band”

“I did”

“Are you a groupie now?”

“Fuck off”

A figure appeared on stage, and shuffled towards them. A figure wearing sweatpants and boots with laces that weren’t real laces, but were instead blue, frayed string.

The figure crouched in front of them.

“Did you like the set?”

“You’re fucking famous” Eddie blurted out, tongue thick and fat in his mouth.

“M’not, not really. The vocalist of Crimson Nightmare is kinda famous, but he’s … he’s not really me. M’just Richie”

“But … Aren’t you the vocalist?”

“Well, yes, I mean technically, but I wear that mask n’ all so… It’s also sort of, not me?”

“Richie I have no idea what to say, I’m like … I’m fucking shaking”

“Good shaking? Bad shaking? Did you hate it? That growl in the third song came out so fucking janky, and I know that I sounded kinda flat in a few of the songs but –“

“You were … spectacular” Eddie breathed, and stared up at Richie with wide, earnest eyes.

“Aw, shit. You’re gonna make me blush, Eddie Spaghetti”

Richie hopped down off the stage, crowding into Eddie’s space. They were separated by a thin metal fence. It was too much distance.

“Beverly, if you don’t want to watch me shove my tongue down Eddie’s throat, I suggest that you avert your eyes, otherwise, enjoy the fuckin’ show”

Bev’s indignant squawk was drowned out by the all-consuming taste on Eddie’s tongue.

– X –

From: Sugar Daddy:

[youtube link]

From: Sugar Daddy:

Last night in Denver. I think you’ll like it <3

Eddie opened the link. It was a video of Crimson Nightmare headlining a spot at Denver arena. The camera was shaky, and the audio screechy, but it was clear enough so Eddie could hear everything Richie was saying.

“Alright, alright, now, I know this is gonna come as a fuckin’ surprise to some of you, or maybe it won’t, but I dedicate this next song to the boy who inspired it. Eddie Spaghetti, this one’s for you, my love, my one, my only”

Screeching guitar and guttural screams filtered out of the shitty speakers of Eddie’s phone. Eddie lay back on his bed, closed his eyes, and drifted.

To: Sugar Daddy:

I love you

#reddie #itpromptweek #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #heavy metal festival AU #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

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crisisengine · 4 years

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review: TEENS OF STYLE

Teens of Style was Will Toledo (aka Car Seat Headrest)’s 2015 major label debut. However, rather than being a paradigm shift into new, polished studio-recorded material (which would come on the next record, Teens of Denial), it was instead a laptop-recorded look back at the Will’s lo-fi Bandcamp days, compiling together older songs from different projects (mainly his first non-numbered album My Back is Killing Me Baby and the relentless but captivating breakup record Monomania). Now that Will has a firmly established musical reputation outside of the world of Bandcamp and people are enjoying all his work, both new and old, I thought it would be a good time to explore whether this record holds up in its own right. It is more than just a greatest hits compilation? (short answer: ABSOLUTELY YES!)

I like how the refrain from SUNBURNED SHIRTS closes and opens Car Seat Headrest’s first trilogy of major label albums. It’s cool to see how, on this song and on ‘Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)’, the same words and melodies are used in totally different contexts (though, here, we also get the eargasmic “People here bang on the walls late at night…” part). This one oozes dreamlike, summery vibes. I love the psychedelic sound collage at the start and, from there, it’s a pleasure to watch the song build up into the final rock-out ending.

The opening riff of THE DRUM is perfectly produced. Whenever it appears, sometimes without warning, I get total chills. The guitar tone cuts through like an ice pick. The verses build on this in a muddier fashion but, by the time the vocals come to a head (“The Drum’s in debt!!) I am absolutely won over. Andrew Katz’s spritely drum fills add a fitting contrast to the breakdown and final verse really does give off a bizarre sense of triumph (“he’s got his flag unfurled or something”). I enjoy how, after the opener has gradually drawn us in, this song feels like a decisive overture, a setting of the scene for the album.

SOMETHING SOON is a brilliantly put-together pop song. The verses’ lyrical vignettes of cabin-fever turn into outright desperation in the chorus. It pinpoints these feelings really accurately. The skittering breaks in the verses release themselves into the crashing choruses and outro. Each section is bookended by the same repeating electric piano chord. The explosion from this pared down moment into the final burst of energy just seems so right.

Like ‘The Drum,’ NO PASSION also rests on an exquisite moment of production. In the final chorus when Will sings “I” in his high register, it’s like a shot through the heart. The sarcastic image of failure in the verses compliments this so well – a succession of half-formed images that seem to suck away all feeling. The comparative earnestness of “I just needed more money, more time, more love” hits home. Our generation often try to rationalise things through sarcasm when really there is something more deeply lacking in our lives. The line “All my desires are so poorly drawn” also really resonates with me.

TIMES TO DIE adds to this album’s incredibly strong selection of opening moments of tracks. The wandering bassline interlocks with the chug of a delayed guitar followed by a single note. There’s something incredibly satisfying about it, especially when you are aware of the sound bath you are about to enter. The psychedelic vocal and guitar interplay in the verses is a highlight – in the first, they mirror each other but, in the second, the guitar skirts around the vocals, carving out new crevices. Their two melodies collide at the end of said verse, in a really affecting way (“but he just keeps singing this song”). The use of horns and cut-up vocals enlivens the sound palette. It feels like a series of ancient rooms with each section or lyrics (“and when they took him to the temple…”) leading somewhere new. A light seems to shine through as the melodies cascade upwards. The “most of the time” section provides nice segue into the “divine council” part which feels like an explosion, with the “is it harder to speak?” section as its fallout. The intermingling of imagery or religion and the music business (“got to believe in the one above me, got to believe that [Vince]Lombardi [head of Matador records] loves me”) is playful and dreamlike.

PSST TEENAGERS is a fun interlude that adds some more immediate energy into a generally fairly meditative album.

The opening verses of STRANGERS leave you inquisitive as to where the song is heading. All becomes clear when the tension of the exclamatory chorus is released in the lovely, picked instrumental break that follows (again enhanced by some inventive drum rhythms). The second section is the real stunner though, starting off cocoon-like and vulnerable but leading into a volatile crescendo. The line “I won’t last too much longer” and its raw delivery convey a sense of enigmatic fragility that I find very affecting.

The keyboard riff in MAUD GONE swamps the mix in the best way possible. I love its distorted, wet tones. The sax solo at the song’s crescendo provides the perfect counterpoint to it, too. Its muscular, sinewy texture cuts through emphatically in the context of the album’s drenched sound palette. As the notes reach up, the instrument seems to become an incredible, cathartic pressure valve, leeching out a lot of confused unspoken feelings as the notes reach up. The metaphor of “a full moon every night” is enticingly simple but also utterly apt for the feelings it describes.

LOS BARRACHOS has an infectious opening synth lick. As it bubbles under the verses, I’m just waiting for it to return with its full force. The wry but combative tone of the song’s opening (“let’s […] crush the grapes beneath our feet/ like some heartbroken Bacchus”) reflects Will’s desperate attempt to rekindle this relationship, to change his situation, to turn sadness into hedonism. These illusions can’t last, however. The riff does not return. Instead the song melts into a kind of broken, abject despair. “I miss you.” The disintegration of the song’s subtitle to just “Don’t have any hope left” is heart-breaking. It’s the most visceral portrait of a breakdown I’ve ever heard.

BAD ROLE MODELS, OLD IDOLS EXHUMED is my favourite song title ever. The track (the only new song written for Teens of Style) feels like a self-aware reflection on the nature of this album. The images of a figure from the past who once meant a lot but is now insignificant in the life of the narrator seem to tally somewhat with the way in which the album is made up of songs taken from previous projects. Past relationships, and the hurt they have caused, are dismissed and rationalised into triviality and insignificance. The horns and the final refrain make for a strangely celebratory ending, like a forced annulment of regrets (“You probably looked like an idiot in that hat!”) in the face of a resolve to move forward. This forced, performative break with the past, however, seems only to emphasise how the wounds are still very much open, just as the songs here, despite their pre-dating of the album itself, lose none of their emotional potency.

The chorus of OH, STARVING! is deliberately contradictory but also feels very comprehensible. The boredom of a life that seems superficially better as, opposed to a past delineated by clear highs and lows, is a recognisable feeling. Sometimes things being superficially ‘ok’ just makes you painfully aware of how far away you are from the things you really want in life, while impending pressures can obscure this, making any brief moments of solace much sweeter. In the context of the album, this also seems to imply a sense of nostalgia with regard to the events and feelings laid out in these songs. Even though this album deals with confusion, depression and heartbreak, in hindsight, the potency and simplicity of these feelings (given the separation of time between the writing and re-recording of these tracks) could almost seem preferable to the confused present. Yet, by the end of the song, Will seems to finally be able to let go. Saying “goodbye” to all his “secret files” seems almost ritualistic, like he is purging himself of the confusions of the past and moving on. I like this version of the song best because of the moment, at the very end, when the delicate piano chords and doo-wop harmonies are replaced by raw, shredding guitars and a single voice singing “goodbye” so distortedly the word is almost incomprehensible. The raw power of this moment seems to work up a head of steam, like an exorcism of the kinks and bruises of the past, in favour of something.

There isn’t Car Seat Headrest album I’ve heard that I don’t love. However, I think Teens of Style undoubtedly ranks among the best of them. It might just be one of my favourite albums of all time. It does lack the conceptual charge that powers Twin Fantasy, Monomania, Teens of Denial and even, to some extent, How to Leave Town. However, despite their lack of a heavy overarching theme, these songs flow together really well. The album feels cohesive thanks to its spring-reverbed production aesthetic (which reminds me of being indoors on a hot summer day) and the smaller themes that recur throughout (resentment of the past, confusion in the present, getting signed to a major indie label). The tweaks to the lyrics of many of these songs make the creative intent yet more apparent.

I also think this album definitely does not negate the albums from which these songs are taken. I love Monomania and My Back is Killing Me Baby and, if you haven’t listened to them you should definitely do so right now! There are bunch of essential songs on both albums that are not on this one (‘father, flesh in rags,’ ‘Souls,’ ‘happy news for sadness,’ ‘Sleeping with Strangers,’ I could go on…). However, for me, the songs on this album benefit from being recontextualised and, in certain cases, from being rerecorded. It’s great to be able to experience the stronger standalone songs from these previous records in the context of album that lets them breathe a little more, outside of context.

The most obvious example is ‘Los Barrachos’ which I think works amazingly well as the climactic track for this album. On Monomania, placed somewhere in the middle, it felt more like a just another rung in the downward spiral of heartbreak. On Teens of Style, it has room to breathe and can finally reach its full potential. Similarly, ‘Maud Gone’ benefits hugely from its re-recording. The crisp yet bedraggled sound palette of the new version feels much more fitting than the original and, in the context of a more emotionally diverse album, the catharsis it brings is more powerful (especially coming after ‘Strangers’).

Teens of Style might be made up moments from the past, but it more than proves its worth as a cohesive album that is great in its own right.

#car seat headrest #teens of style #review #will toledo #Andrew katz #1 trait danger #sunburned shirts #the drum #something soon #no passion #times to die #strangers #Maud gone #los barrachos #oh starving!#Jacob bloom #monomania #my back is killing me baby #starving while living

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itsgonnabe-brian-may · 5 years

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Get Down, Make Love

// Requested by: @brianmayoucease

request - This might be a lil dirty. But a fic about Brian creating the really awesome kinda moany guitar noises in "Get Down, Make Love" based on your moans and everybody is like "Brian how'd you come up with that" and he's like "uhm-"

I hope this does your idea justice!! It’s not super smut heavy, sorry! It was a really cool idea, thanks for sharing it with me!! :))

wc: 1.3k+

70′s Brian May x reader

Brian May x reader

warnings: mentions of sex (18+ please)

If you asked the members of Queen to tell you how they were doing, they could've described it in a million ways. Elated. Inspired. Blissful. Happy. Overjoyed. Lucky. Ecstatic. Amazing. Delighted.

In general, they felt as if they were on top of the world.

With 5 albums topping the charts, they were feeling quite good about themselves. Nothing could stop them.

Well... maybe a few months of hitting a creative wall and severe writers' block could.

Everyone was feeling it. Each having been tasked with writing songs that were new and unique, more anthem-like. Something that could get the audience and listener involved. The great idea proved to be more difficult than they thought.

Brian felt it especially. On top of writing songs, he had to write an interesting and new guitar riff for almost every song. Which he had argued for, but now it was biting him in the ass. He was growing more frustrated and annoyed with the constant bickering between him and his other bandmates and their harsh opinions of his riffs.

It was taking a toll on him, you could especially see it.

He had bags under his eyes and was constantly fidgeting with his hands. His shoulders tensed up and were painfully stiff. Stressed Brian wasn't a happy Brian so it made you sad that he brushed it off like it was nothing and didn't talk about it, even if he knew that you could see it eating away at him.

Yet, he had promised himself that he would never let the frustrations of his music reach you. It was a promise he made after your 3rd date, which happened to be inviting you to one of their gigs.

He wasn't happy with how he had played and was grumpy about it. But seeing your face light up with excitement as he walked backstage made it all better and he didn't want to ruin the magic for you.

You weren't oblivious or naive so you knew that it took a lot of work to make music and perform. Being a rockstar wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. However, it didn't stop you from worrying about Brian when he got into one of his ruts.

These past couple of months had started out as a week of Brian's moping around. You didn't say anything because he didn't. You acted the part of bubbly Y/N and it seemed to calm him down. At least at the beginning. Days turned into weeks which turned into months and you were starting to get concerned. It felt like you didn't have much of a relationship anymore, just short conversations that ended with holding each other on the couch until one of you called it a night and you went to bed.

That's what Brian was looking forward too at the end of today. He was still stuck but the fighting had gotten worse and the presence of non-band members at the studio made it worse. Plus the looming deadline made tensions even higher. Most of the day had been a blur and ended with all 4 of the members storming off hoping to cool their heads and attitudes before returning tomorrow.

Slamming the car door shut Brian grabbed his guitar and bounded up the stairs to your shared apartment. He had gotten home earlier than usual and you weren't supposed to get out of work until 5, meaning he could cool down a bit and maybe make an apology dinner. However, his plans were foiled as he heard your voice singing as you made dinner from down the hall. Brian opened the door as a deep sigh slipped out.

"Bri?" You asked switching the burner off and looking over your shoulder.

"Yeah," he mumbled in response.

Your brow furrowed as you knew today must have been rough. You couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"How was the studio?" You asked sweetly walking over to him in the doorway.

"God it was awful, I couldn't get anything figured out and the boys wouldn't shut up! I'm getting so frus-" Brian started, not having the self-control to stop the rant from flowing out of his mouth.

It was like his mouth had a mind of its own. But he caught himself before he could get too pent up.

"Sorry love, I didn't mean to-" he started.

"Don't apologize for that, It's hard work, and I'd be surprised if you weren't frustrated," You said looking up at him.

"I know, I know, I just-"

"I'm worried about you, ya know,"

"All this frustration is taking a toll on you, don't lie to me and tell me your fine," You said raising your brows at the man, knowing his next words would be those exact ones.

Brian just huffed, he knew you were right, you always were. He was more upset that he broke his promise that he was about the day's previous emotions, but he didn't want to dwell on that.

"How can I make it up to you?" He sheepishly asked.

You just laughed and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

"You won't have to worry about that, Bri,"

Instead of responding he placed his hands on your hips pulling you to him. His lips were on yours, moving slowly. Next thing you knew he was hovering over you on the couch, your hands on his chest. The pace picked up, music frustration turned into sexual frustration quickly. Your teeth pulled at his bottom lip as he tried pulling off his own shirt. Yours was next and your hand placements became more intentional and needy. Your whimpers grew louder and turned into drawn-out moans. Matched with Brian's own moans as your hips collided. You noises were music to his ears, every time you said his name or reacted it pushed him further to his own climax.

A deep groan paired with your higher pitched moan as you both rode out your pleasure released all of the frustration in Brian's shoulders. You also relaxed.

With round two you admitted feelings of affection and lust. Round three ended with a confession from Brian.

"God, you sound so good when we make love," he panted laying down beside you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Brian's excited figure leaping off the couch interrupted you. He pulled on his trousers and shirt, not bothering to button it the entire way.

"Sorry, love, I got a brilliant idea, I'll be back soon," Brian exclaimed scrambling about picking up his keys and guitar case.

Within a second he was out the door and bounding down the set of stairs, mirroring his actions hours earlier. Only pausing to place his guitar gently in the passenger's seat. Then with a slam of the driver's side door, he was off to the studio, while you laughed and rolled your eyes.

It took until 8 am to perfect his ingenious idea. His guitar was all tuned and he was waiting for the boys to show up so he could play for them.

Once they all showed up he couldn't contain his excitement and didn't let the others do anything besides listen to him play his new guitar part to accompany the lyrics of Get Down, Make Love.

As he finished the last note with an energetic strum, he hopefully looked up at John, Freddie, and Roger who were standing behind the glass. They were all impressed.

"Brilliant,"

"Absolutely brilliant,"

"Soo, Brian, what made you come to your senses and come up with that?" Roger quipped, but he couldn't deny that it was perfect for the song.

That was the only aspect that Brian didn't think about when he was caught up in his excitement.

"Uhmm.... I guess it just came to me?" He coughed, trying to shrug it off.

Roger didn't buy it and eyed him suspiciously but wasn't didn't get to say anything as he was cut off by Brian asking,

"So when are you going to come up with the drum part?"

After that day sex might have been Brian's go to frustration release. He still tried to keep his frustrations away from you, but you didn't mind in the slightest. Especially since you were honored to have a Queen song about you. Even if it wasn't exactly about you.

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