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farmhandler · 5 years

Text

A Little Extra

Rating: T

Relationship: Shiro/Sendak

Additional Tags: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Body Image, chubby!Shiro, implied Mpreg

Chapter: 1/1 | WC 6.9K~

Read on AO3

Summary: It wasn’t as if Shiro was blind to the weight that he’d gained when he’d been pregnant. That was par for the course, and in the months that followed he’d been focused on just getting through each day.

But now, staring at himself in a shirt that was a few sizes too small, it was like being given a wake-up call.

A/N: Commission for @saltyhedgeh0g aka the lovely lovely Shannon, who asked for Bound-verse Shiro's first heat post-baby, where he's self conscious about his figure. Sendak still wants to hit it (duh).

With everything that was going on in his life, Shiro had nearly forgotten all about his old clothes.

The twins demanded his constant attention, and he hadn’t gotten rid of his paternal wear until a few months in, when he’d started being considered for public appearances and figured wearing clothes that were clearly made for someone with a large middle was excessive, no matter how comfortable they were.

He now had a plethora of new clothing in his wardrobe, both from the castle’s stores and items Shiro had purchased at their favorite space mall.

He happened upon the shirt while cleaning his room. The twins’ toys were littered about his floor, alongside a few bottles he had forgotten to clean and pack up. Some of his clothes were packed in the corner, lying forgotten.

The room was basically a pigsty, but he hadn’t had the time when every day he was kept busy.

Shiro picked up Sendak’s underwear that had gotten caught in the bedsheets and held it up for inspection, already able to tell from the scent that it had been worn at least once. Sendak’s scent was heavier than a human’s, particularly in his extremities.

After a moment of hesitation, Shiro shoved the fabric against his nose, inhaling the scent of his mate. He felt his shoulders relax, tensing leaking out of him. Sendak had been away the last few weeks on a cluster of Blade missions, but as of this afternoon they were both going to be at the castle. Since Shiro’s first heat was coming up very soon, Sendak had been put off Blade missions indefinitely until it was over.

Plus, having him around meant Shiro could actually get something done. He was currently in charge of watching the twins, entertaining them in the other room while Shiro cleaned.

Shiro started shoving all their dirty laundry in the basket when he noticed that a clean shirt had was mixed in with the dirty ones. Shiro lifted it up into the light, a smile forming on his face at the memories that it brought forth.

It was the one that had belonged to Keith’s father, and it had lasted Shiro for several years before he’d gotten knocked up by his then-estranged mate. He didn’t think too deeply about how small it seemed compared to his other clothes until he was struggling to pulling it down over his shoulders.

Did it shrink? he wondered, smoothing his hands down over his front. It fit, but only just, and Shiro was already itching to take it off.

He looked around for something reflective to use. There wasn’t a mirror in his room, and the one in the bathroom wasn’t full-length, but Shiro walked in anyway, stepping back to get as much of himself in view as possible.

What he saw made his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest.

It wasn’t as if Shiro was blind to the weight that he’d gained when he’d been pregnant. That was par for the course, and in the months that followed he’d been focused on just getting through each day. He was well acquainted with his own stretch marks and a little extra bulk, but he still fit in his suit, so he hadn’t given it much thought.

But now, staring at himself in a shirt that was a few sizes too small, it was like being given a wakeup call.

Shiro prodded the flesh gathered around his waist. His abs had been replaced with a soft stomach and a layer of fat that he didn’t remember being there before, and his chest was even softer, his nipples large and poking through his shirt from consistent breastfeeding.

Whereas he’d once had a rigorous training routine and a daily workout, his time was now occupied by taking care of his kids and saving the universe, which didn’t leave him with much free time.

Wearing a shirt that didn’t fit him made it all the more obvious how far he’d let himself go.

He hurried to take it off, hastily dropping the shirt onto the floor.

There was a flash of concerned curiosity from across the bond. Shiro hadn’t even thought to close it off, and he was hesitant to do so now, lest he raise Sendak’s suspicions, so he didn’t bother taking the bait, instead walking back into the bedroom to finish cleaning.

The laundry basket he set near the door to be taken out, and the bottles and toys he collected to bring to Sendak next door.

He was just about to knock when it slid open and Sendak filled his line of view, both twins sitting in each arm.

“Oh, hi!” Shiro smiled up at him, moving to take Ayame, the first to start reaching for him, exchanging her with the bag full of things he’d collected from their room.

“Dadda!” she cried, waving her hands lazily at him. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were drooping.

“Hi, honey.” Shiro nuzzled her cheek with his nose. She hiccupped, then swayed. Shiro encouraged her to lean her head against his chest. He addressed Sendak, “Did you just feed them?”

“I’ve been wearing them out,” Sendak clarified. “I’m hoping they will be too tired to cause a fuss during naptime.”

“Good luck with that.” Shiro shifted Ayame so she was resting more comfortably, nestled in the crook of his arm. “They’ll never stop being trouble.”

“Be that as it may, I was hoping to spend some time with you. Alone.”

Sendak’s words carried a heat that Shiro would be a fool not to recognize. Since he’d gotten back, Sendak had been especially touchy.

Shiro’s mind flashed to the scene in the bathroom as Sendak brushed his palm up the underside of his arm, right over the fat.

“I think I’m gonna get some food,” Shiro said, stepping away. “I’ve also got to wash these, and I can do that in the kitchen.”

He pretended not to notice the slight downturn of Sendak’s mouth as he put Ayame in her crib. She was dozing, so after tucking her in, she thankfully went straight to sleep.

“I will come with you,” Sendak said, still holding the very active Ellar.

“I’ll be back soon,” Shiro assured him. “You keep wearing her out and then I’ll meet you later. Okay?”

Sendak nodded without reply, still frowning, and Shiro left, heading for the kitchens.

He really was hungry, so on arrival he piled a plate full of flavored goo and set it down on the counter across from the kitchen sinks, munching on it while he worked. They used sonic sinks and no water was involved, so it didn’t take Shiro long to finish cleaning the bottles and a few of the plastic toys that were dirty.

Sendak didn’t speak with him through the bond, which Shiro was grateful for. They’d gotten adept at reading each other’s moods, and Shiro didn’t feel up to trying to explain himself.

It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with carrying a little extra weight. Hunk was a larger man, who ate just the same as the rest of them and did the same drills. He wasn’t ashamed of his size, and Shiro didn’t expect him to be.

He glanced down at his stomach, slightly distended in its relaxed state. He sucked it in, tensing the muscles, and for a moment he could imagine the layers of fat falling away, revealing the hard muscles he remembered lying underneath.

When he relaxed his stomach again, it seemed to bulge out even more obscenely.

“There you are.”

Shiro’s shoulders tensed, but he forced them down when he felt Sendak’s knuckles brush the back of his neck. He dragged his wrist over Shiro’s scent gland, then turned him around for a kiss.

“I’ve hardly seen you since I returned,” Sendak said, tilting his chin up. “Are you certain you’re not avoiding me?”

Cleverly disguised as it was, the question was somewhat genuine. Sendak didn’t like to let matters lie when Shiro was distressed in any way, and as close to his heat as he was, pumping out more pheromones in preparation, Sendak could probably sense his unease.

“No! Of course not. I’m just…” He shrugged, leaning in when Sendak drew him close. “It’s been a while. And I know that the implant is supposed to work as birth control, but I’m still nervous. I don’t want another baby.”

“No?” With one hand, Sendak cupped Shiro’s cheek, and with the other, he groped at his ass, squeezing it. Shiro tried to pull away, thinking about what he’d seen in the mirror, but Sendak held him still, mouthing hungrily at his throat.

Shiro held back a whimper as his teeth brushed the scent gland. He was especially sensitive during pre-heat.

“Last I recall, you were very eager to have me breed you,” he murmured, pulling Shiro flush and aligning their hips. Sendak was still as brawny and strong as he’d ever been; he hadn’t borne the weight of two galra children on his hips, and sometimes Shiro resented him for that. Just a little.

Like now, when he splayed his hands across his strong chest, muscular pecs outlined by his thin shirt, and saw the clear contrast between their bodies. Sendak was all hard lines and Shiro—Shiro was soft and squishy.

What little arousal that had been building inside Shiro quickly faded. If Sendak noticed—which he certainly did—he didn’t say anything about it. He pressed a soft kiss to Shiro’s jaw.

“Yeah, that’s not happening again.” Shiro pushed at his chest. “I’m on birth control, and if I wasn’t, just the thought of any more of those little monsters running around would be birth control enough.”

Sendak’s lips quirked. “They do so love to cause trouble, and they can’t even walk.”

Shiro shuddered at the thought. “I am not looking forward to that.”

“Neither am I.” Sendak gave Shiro’s ass a firm pat. “Which is why we should take this chance to…reacquaint ourselves.”

‘Reacquainting’ turned out to mean cuddling in bed. Sendak crowded Shiro against the wall scented him thoroughly, rubbing and kissing every inch of skin that he could reach. Shiro’s thoughts earlier left him feeling strangely self-conscious the whole time, but if anything, it spurred Sendak to double his efforts, scenting Shiro until his skin felt rubbed raw.

“There are other ways to get your scent on me, you know,” Shiro gasped into his mouth, rutting lazily over Sendak’s thick thigh.

“I like you like this.” Sendak cupped his cheeks, brushing their noses together, “in my arms and at my mercy. And I will have you like this, until you decide to tell me what is running through your mind.”

Shiro tried not to stiffen too obviously. Based on Sendak’s knowing look, he didn’t exactly succeed.

“Something is bothering you,” Sendak said conversationally, like he was talking about something entirely unrelated. “I would have you tell me, if you are willing to share.”

A long time ago, Sendak might have tried to force it out of him. He would have shoved and pushed and pulled until Shiro admitted to what he was feeling. And sure, it had worked then, and sometimes it might have been what he needed. Maybe he needed it now—he didn’t really know—but Shiro appreciated that Sendak was giving him time, rather than attempting to pry the words out of him.

Even if Shiro didn’t know what to do with time, or what to do with himself. The solution should have been simple: work out, get buff, become the muscular giant he used to be. But that would take so much work, and Shiro was exhausted enough from being a parent and running around the universe with Voltron. He was just too tired most days to even manage more than a single training session.

“I just feel—” Like a whale.

“Like a whale?” Sendak repeated, puzzled by the human idiom.

Shiro swallowed thickly. Sendak was in and around him, his scent burrowed into Shiro’s skin, and he felt—disgusting.

Sendak was still waiting for him to provide him with an answer. Shiro didn’t have one.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” he said instead, crawling past Sendak, who didn’t stop him, but watched him go, making no effort to conceal his concern through the bond. Shiro felt it clearly, mingling with the doubt and revulsion rolling inside him.

It would help if Sendak would stop touching him all the time. Every opportunity there was, he would take it, grabbing at him or rubbing his face across his scent gland. It wasn’t that Shiro hated it, per se, but if he would just stop touching him so much, then maybe—

“Shiro?”

Shiro blinked. He realized he’d been staring at Hunk for the last minute, and that Hunk was looking at his cybernetic hand, which was gripping his spoon hard enough to bend the metal.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, setting it down carefully.

“Are you okay? Like, actually okay? Because you know you can tell me anything, and remember the last time you hid something from us? That didn’t turn out so great!”

“It’s nothing like that, Hunk,” Shiro said. He attempted a smile. “I’m just thinking about some things.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Shiro folded his hands in front of him, considering his words carefully. Hunk was an alpha, which meant that he was even more eager to help Shiro in any way possible.

“How do you,” he paused, “feel,” an even longer pause, “about.”

Hunk nodded encouragingly, his gaze open and his concern evident.

“Shiro—”

“It’s silly,” Shiro said. “Forget I said anything. You seem very confident in yourself, and I admire that a lot. I admire a lot of things about you. You’re a good teammate, Hunk.”

Foot, meet Shiro’s mouth.

“Uh, thanks?” Hunk laid his hands on the table, fingers twitching towards like he wanted to reach out and soothe. “But, Shiro—”

“I’ve gotta get going,” Shiro said, abandoning his meal and heading for the door. Sendak would be waking the twins for their morning feeding. “I’ll see you later! Thanks again!”

“You’re welcome!” Hunk called. “Even though I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything!”

Keith had agreed to watch the twins with Lance for the duration of his heat. Shiro wasn’t worried about them being bad babysitters; in all honesty, he was more worried for Keith and Lance than he was the twins.

Shiro stared at the doorway leading out of his room, aching to go find his babies and rub his scent all over them. Pre-heat always left Shiro feeling restless, preferring to do things on his own and in his own way, so he knew he was better off leaving the twins in more-or-less capable hands, especially if he misjudged the timing.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Sendak, of course, was excited to share their first heat together. They didn’t get a lot of alone time with the twins around, and living in a castle filled with other people meant a quick diversion wasn’t always an option.

Shiro felt excited about the prospect, but with this being his first heat while not pregnant, and what with his body the way it was, excitement had transformed into nervous irritation.

He grit his teeth, trying to withstand the fingers brushing his throat for the thousandth time.

Right before his heat, Shiro usually didn’t like being touched. He felt itchy and uncomfortable and crampy, and he knew that Sendak was aware of this, but he seemed to have forgotten it; he had remained glued to Shiro’s side all morning, and as the hours stretched on, Shiro had had it.

He couldn’t hold back the angry snarl as he whirled on Sendak.

“Will you stop touching me?” Shiro snapped, tossing the pillow he’d been holding at Sendak’s face.

Sendak didn’t react other than to raise his hands in a placating gesture that only further incensed Shiro.

“I apologize,” Sendak began, and he went to say more, but Shiro cut him off.

“Are you done? Do you really want to touch me that much?”

“Yes,” Sendak replied in an instant. He drew close to Shiro’s side again, brushing his palm over Shiro’s heated cheek. “I am aware you don’t like me ‘smothering you’, but your scent has sweetened considerably. You’ll forgive me if I can’t help myself.”

“My scent,” Shiro repeated numbly. Of course it was his scent. Of course. What else did he expect?

“That upsets you,” Sendak observed, puzzled, and Shiro hated, hated that he was having a hard time closing off the bond when he could barely concentrate on the nest he was trying to build.

“No, it doesn’t. I’m not upset. I love that you love the way I smell. You know I do.”

“Shiro, you cannot lie to me,” Sendak began, like he was talking to a small child. “You have been upset for some time, and I have not asked because you seemed particularly averse to it. But you will tell me now, before your heat begins.”

“Oh I will, will I?” Shiro crossed his arms. “Well you’re out of luck, because nothing’s wrong. I feel great! Just great! Amazing!”

Sendak took a decisive step forward and Shiro stepped back, glaring daggers.

Normally, Shiro wasn’t this angry. Normally, he would be a little irritated, but otherwise companionable for the most part. Now, with his feelings multiplied and intensified, he could barely stand to be touched by Sendak even though that was exactly what his body wanted.

Sendak did not attempt to approach him again, reading the signals that Shiro was sending out loud and clear. After a few minutes of waiting—for what, Shiro wasn’t sure—he stepped towards the door with the claim that he was going to get them water bottles and some snack bars.

“Okay,” Shiro said, forcing a calm to his voice that he didn’t feel. His restlessness was only made worse at the thought of Sendak leaving their nest. “You go. I’ll just…sit here.”

After Sendak left, Shiro sat himself at the edge of the bed, running his hands over his knees in repeated motions.

He felt itchy. He wasn’t in heat yet, but it was approaching fast. Shiro glanced at the door.

A part of him wanted to go after Sendak and apologize. It wasn’t wrong for Sendak to want to touch him. They were partners—mates. It was normal behavior.

He glanced down at his stomach, lips curling back.

I need to work out, he thought.

Now?

Sendak’s reply jolted Shiro to his feet. He was always aware of him, even with this distance, but Shiro’s mind was all over the place. He’d somehow completely forgotten about the link.

No. But at some point I need to get into my old routine.

Impossible. You would exhaust yourself.

Shiro didn’t reply. The truth of the statement didn’t sit well with him, and on Sendak’s return, he denied the protein bar that Sendak shoved in his face.

“You haven’t eaten in hours,” he pointed out.

“I’m okay.” He wasn’t that hungry.

Sendak dropped it in his lap. “Eat.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sendak’s jaw clenched. Shiro stared up at him, ready and raring for a fight, but then Sendak visibly calmed and he sat down next to Shiro without another word about it.

Suspicious, but relieved that he hadn’t taken the bait, Shiro set the bar next to him and started messing around on the pad that Allura had given him. On it were all the baby books and pamphlets, but Shiro had also loaded up a bunch of novels for downtime. Not that he usually had any.

He was so itchy. It felt like his skin was trying to claw its way off his body, and even the soft shirt and silky pants weren’t enough to soothe him. He’d prefer to be naked at this point, but—well.

To top it off, in the middle of reading the first page of one of the novels, his cramps started up.

A part of him had hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with the cramps that came with heat now that he was on alien birth control, but the moment that he felt his uterus tighten, he knew it was over.

Half an hour later, and aside from four trips to the bathroom while his body emptied itself in preparation, Shiro hadn’t moved. He lay curled up in bed, a whimpering mess. It was miserable, and to make matters worse, Sendak stayed at his side, but he didn’t touch him. It was in respect of Shiro’s self-imposed rules, but the more that he hurt, the more that he was regretting acting like he had.

Shiro lasted another ten minutes before he gave in and crawled over to the other side of the bed, inserting himself in between Sendak’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, relaxing once Sendak wound his arm around him. Just the scent of his alpha made it slightly more bearable. “I’ve been such a jerk today.”

“You’re going into heat for the first time since you birthed the children. You are understandably stressed.”

Sendak stroked his flank and kissing what skin presented itself, layering them atop Shiro’s head and throat intermittently. Shiro melted against his front, rubbing his face into the fur on his chest.

They laid like that for some time, while Shiro breathed through the worst of it, waiting for the awful sensation to dissipate. Sendak kept up the attention, even going so far as to massage the muscles around Shiro’s lower back and his pelvis to alleviate some of the pressure.

It was overall lovely, and Shiro was more than a little grateful. Being surrounded by his scent helped with the worst of it, and there was nothing better than being held in Sendak’s firm embrace.

Despite the cramps, and despite the itchy state of his skin, he’d nearly started to doze, but then his stomach suddenly grew molten hot; for a moment, Shiro felt like he was about to vomit. He swallowed repeatedly, waiting for it to pass, and then the heat dissipated and settled down into his hips.

On his next inhale, the very air he breathed seemed different.

Sendak was wearing a pair of pants—his sleepwear—and nothing else, and Shiro suddenly decided he shouldn’t be wearing anything at all.

“Let’s get this off you,” he murmured, voice going soft and sweet. He smoothed his hands down Sendak’s front, fingers teasing at his waistband. He was so focused on running his hands all over Sendak’s sculpted body that he barely noticed when the gentle warmth began to ramp up.

Sweat broke out over his skin, and he shivered.

Sendak didn’t resist, helping Shiro pull his pants down over his hips, tossing them to the side. His sex was resting soft in his underwear, but after a moment it began to thicken. Shiro made a sound, laying his hand over the massive length. It was warm under his palm, and as he wrapped his hand around it, it gave a distinct twitch.

Shiro licked his lips. “You smell so good right now.”

“I could say the same,” Sendak replied. He tipped Shiro’s head to the side and buried his nose in his throat, his chest expanding into Shiro as he inhaled. “Mm, your scent is so sweet. You smell incredibly fertile.”

Shiro’s breath hitched. “Fertile? I…forgot that you could tell.”

Sendak’s hand landed on his hip, kneading the flesh there.

“Here as well,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to the swell of Shiro’s breast. “A tempting sweetness.”

Shiro’s breath came out in a rush. He pressed his face into Sendak’s chest, hands coming up over his biceps. He was so strong. Sendak had always been strong, but Shiro for some reason couldn’t get it out of his head how strong Sendak really was.

“My big, strong alpha,” he said quietly, digging his fingers into Sendak’s firm pecs. “That’s not all, right?”

“Hm?” Sendak paused where he’d been about to pull off his underwear.

“That’s not the only reason, right? My scent?” Shiro’s thoughts tumbled in different directions, and it took him a second to collect himself. He kept getting distracted by the thick root of Sendak’s cock peeking out from his open waistband. “You don’t think I’m…”

“You know what I think of you,” Sendak said. He sounded completely puzzled. “Is this related to what has been bothering you?”

“I…”

Was there any point in denying it anymore?

“I feel disgusting,” Shiro admitted in a rush. “My hips are big, and my ass is huge, and I’ve got all this baby weight that won’t go away, and I’ve got all these—these ugly stretch marks all over my hips and stomach, and—” He stopped, flushing under Sendak’s scrutiny. “I-I just feel gross. I haven’t been this chunky since I was a teenager.”

Sendak continued to stare at him.

“You are…upset by how you look?” he said slowly, like he was trying to make sense of it.

Shiro shrugged. The doubt in Sendak’s tone only made his embarrassment compound further.

Sendak cocked his head. “I had assumed that you wanted to look like this.”

“What?” Now it was Shiro’s turn to stare. “Why would I want that?”

“But you look—” Sendak paused, as trying to search for words; words that Shiro didn’t want to hear.

“Not nearly as attractive as I used to?”

“Ravishing,” Sendak finished, his tone final.

“You’re kidding me. This?” Shiro gestured down to himself pointedly. “I’m not exactly at peak physical fitness anymore. People used to call me buff.”

“You are still muscular.”

“Sure, but I don’t look like it anymore.”

Sendak’s eyes raked his figure.

“You believe you must be visibly muscular for me to find you attracted,” he realized aloud. It sounded so shallow when put like that.

“No! I mean…I suppose I’m just having a hard time understanding. I know there’s nothing wrong with the way I am, but I can’t imagine that—that you would want this.”

“That I would want you, my mate,” Sendak said, amused.

“Well—"

“The—how did Lance put it—the love of my life?”

Shiro’s cheeks flushed a darker pink, and he squirmed, not only because of Sendak but the strength of his scent, which seemed to reach inside Shiro and take hold of him, squeezing him from the inside out. He could feel himself getting wetter, and when Sendak’s fingers brushed his cheek, he leaned heavily into the touch.

“Sendak,” he breathed. He tried to slide close, but Sendak held him at bay, and Shiro didn’t understand why until he tugged Shiro’s shirt over his head and splayed both hands across Shiro’s naked torso.

“I see a body that has supported the lives of my family.” Sendak kissed the top of Shiro’s right breast. He was hard; Shiro could smell his arousal. “Fed them. You have scars from battle, hard fought and deserved. Are these ‘stretch marks’ not the same?”

Shiro didn’t have a reply. He hadn’t—he’d never thought of it like that.

“It was a battle of a different sort, and you came out the other end alive, more beautiful than I have ever seen you.” He kissed Shiro’s sternum, a rumbling growl working up the back of his throat. His scent laid over Shiro like a thick blanket; he was starting to lose focus. “These scars are just a point of honor as much your stretch marks. You are no less worthy for them.”

“I—” Shiro didn’t know what to say. He shivered when Sendak moved his mouth to the side, sucking directly on Shiro’s nipple. He knew how sensitive they were. “Sendak.”

“You carried the lives of our children inside you.” Sendak lifted Shiro’s leg so he could reach between his thighs, his breaths becoming heavy with arousal. Shiro wriggled closer, the burning need in his belly blazing to life the moment Sendak’s fingers came close to his hole. “You have fed and nurtured them, and you are healthy. There is nothing more arousing to me than you as you are now.” He paused. “You’re already quite wet.”

“Sendak.” Shiro shivered again, tiny shudders working through his body. Sendak sat up and grabbed him by his hips, turning him around. Shiro went willingly, eager to present himself.

He wasn’t aware he was already pleading with Sendak to fuck him until he dragged his cock over the slick dripping out of him and the air was punched right from his lungs.

It was different, during heat. Just that teasing touch made his fingers itch to push down Sendak and find relief himself.

“Fuck me,” he demanded breathlessly, digging his nails into the sheets. Every breath he took smelled and tasted like Sendak.

“I feel your need,” Sendak growled, “but you will wait. I will not hurt you.” A flicker of amusement. “Not until you beg for it.”

There was a sense of calm that tried washed over him from Sendak’s end of the bond. Tried being key, as it did little to quell the need rising, forming a sharp needlepoint.

“Please.” Shiro pushed back against Sendak’s cock, reaching with one hand, trying to translate to him how much he needed it. “Please, Sendak, please fuck me.”

At the first push of his cock, the moan that came out of Shiro was obscene. He spread his legs, bearing down, a plea on each breath, and when Sendak pushed nearly all the way in, Shiro’s moans turned throaty and loud. Sendak’s cock was huge, but Shiro was wet, and after a few more pushes his hips met Shiro’s, buried all the way to the hilt.

The tentacles teased the inside of his thighs, brushing over the slick and spreading it. Relief hit Shiro like a tidal wave, rolling over the pain of taking something so big so quickly, but it still wasn’t enough. Grinding himself back on Sendak’s cock, Shiro gnawed on his knuckle as his first orgasm hit him.

He trembled, twitching with aftershocks, and a second later he whined, tipping his head back, vying for more. And Sendak gave it to him.

He fucked him with the same brutal efficiency that Shiro remembered. He basked in it, each thrust relentlessly sharp and pounding, chipping away at the burning heat. He pulled Shiro back against his hips, grinding into him until Shiro squirmed as he came internally again, his cock still flushed.

He came once more after that, and he was working up to a fourth as Sendak fucked him, but by then he was so desperate for a knot he wanted to grab at Sendak’s hips and hold him in place until he could feel it. He tried, wriggling, reaching for him, but Sendak grabbed his wrist and stilled him, thrusting his sex to the hilt in one vicious thrust.

“Fuck,” Shiro gasped, his hips flooded with pleasure. It felt like his body was on fire. “Need you to knot me. Please, please, pleaseplease—yes!”

He cried out in relief when he felt the tentacles wriggle up inside him, forming the knot. It was unpleasant—the first knotting was always the most intense—but he needed it. He needed Sendak’s knot plugging him up until he was so full there was no doubt in his mind he’d be pregnant by the end.

“Yes,” Sendak said, reading his mind. “You’d easily become pregnant from my seed. Mine.”

“God,” Shiro gasped, spreading his legs, trying in futile to make more room for the massive knot. He was vaguely aware that Sendak was coming, but it was drowned out by the rush of being knotted, being so full again. “Oh, god.”

Soon after that, Shiro lost all sense of time. He was pretty sure Sendak did, too. Being bonded like they were meant that the fever of heat affected Sendak as well. Not as severely as it did Shiro, sure, but they didn’t stop fucking for hours.

At one point, when Sendak was fucking Shiro against the wall, hips wrapped around Sendak’s waist, their eyes met, and then they were kissing for the first time since his heat had started. Sendak was heedless at first of the sharp canines, but as Shiro melted into him, wrapping his arms around his neck, their coupling inexplicably softened.

“I want another baby,” Shiro breathed, swallowing Sendak’s answering groan with another open-mouthed kiss. “Want your baby. Wanna have your baby again.”

“You’ll have it,” Sendak growled. He grunted, hoisting Shiro up higher so he could fuck him in several punishing thrusts. “I will give you any number of children. You’ll be full and fat and mine.”

“Yours, yours,” Shiro chanted, framing his face with his hands. “And you’re mine. My alpha.”

In the back of his mind, Shiro knew that he wouldn’t get pregnant. He knew, and he would be glad for it later. But in those moments, while Sendak was pumping him full of come, stroking the sides of his face and biting into the bondmark, he couldn’t quite quell the sense of disappointment in knowing he wouldn’t be able to share this with him again.

And then there was the rest of his heat.

Shiro had had so many heats throughout his life that the intensity never surprised him. He was used to it.

He wasn’t used to this.

Through Sendak, his need seemed to echo back at him, a never-ending loop that had Shiro pawing at Sendak every single second, begging to be plugged on his knot. Sendak did his best to deliver, knotting him any time as asked, at one point going so far as to knot him three times in quick succession.

It was never enough. He wanted everything Sendak could give him. It didn’t matter what Sendak thought they should do; Shiro couldn’t focus on anything other than the fire burning a hole in his gut.

“Eat,” Sendak said, his words cutting through the haze that was slowly dissipating after another successful knotting.

Shiro was bathed in sweat, caked in fluids, and he felt exhausted enough to sleep for a year. Even so, he hadn’t found slept just yet. Maybe it was because their minds were connected, but he couldn’t seem to fall into the mid-heat slumber that was meant to give him a break, instead heading into round after round.

Shiro eyed the protein bar warily as he took it out of Sendak’s hand.

“Not really hungry,” he muttered, but unwrapped it with shaking fingers, taking a bite regardless. Sendak watched him like a hawk, his gaze never once leaving Shiro’s face until he’d eaten half.

“I could keep you knotted like this,” Sendak said, as much of an offering as it was a question. He stroked a hand down Shiro’s flank. “If you would like to rest.”

Shiro shook his head. He laid his arm over his forehead and sighed.

“I’ll sleep when my body’s ready. I think. There’s a reason we don’t stay knotted during heat. Even with toys. ‘S not safe.” His word slurred together as his mouth opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. “We could go into toxic shock. Or something.”

Sendak grunted in assent. Overall, he didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect of more sex. Shiro rolled his eyes and waited for Sendak to pull out and the fever to take over.

Eventually Shiro did sleep, and when he did, it was deeply. Instead of the occasional nap to rejuvenate himself, he slept for hours, his dreams twisted and strange.

When he woke, he had no clue what time it was. Sendak mentioned something about it being evening before he fell asleep, but he couldn’t remember.

Sendak was still asleep beside him. His scent was thick and warm, settling over Shiro, tempting him. Ignoring that, Shiro went to pee, but by the time he’d returned, barely a minute later, he was crawling on top of Sendak, grabbing his cock and angling it inside him.

“What a lovely picture you make,” Sendak said, his voice low from sleep, blinking up at Shiro blearily. He flashed his teeth in a vicious grin as he sank his claws into Shiro’s thigh and fisted his cock with his other hand, prompting the first of another round of orgasms.

Later in Shiro’s heat, when he wasn’t so desperate, they had more intent to linger and take their time.

Somehow, at some point Sendak ended up knotting Shiro in front of his bed. They’d started with Shiro bracing his hands on the edge, but then Sendak had cupped his full chest in both hands and lifted him up, supporting him while he rutted into Shiro languidly.

“You really—” Shiro stopped to moan, his shortness of breath attributed to the way the change in angle had Sendak’s sex gliding over his prostate. He slid his hands over the back of Sendak’s, curling his fingers in between his. “You really don’t mind the, the way I look?”

“I love it,” Sendak rumbled, an instant, honest reply. He slid his hands down Shiro’s torso, feeling every inch and curve before planting his hands greedily over the widest parts of his hips. “Your body is full from a life well-lived. Life that I’ve helped provide and nurture.” He thrust in again, and Shiro’s toes curled. “From life we have created.”

“Fuck,” Shiro rasped. It was hard to feel bad about himself when he could tell just how deeply Sendak felt about him. “You really mean that, oh my god. And I know I’ve said this a few times now—”

“A few dozen, perhaps.”

“—but I really want another baby.” His moan softened into a whine when Sendak pulled out slowly, thrusting back inside with a wet squelch. “I’m going to hate myself for thinking that later.”

“Just think: if you didn’t have that pesky implant, we could have more.”

Shiro’s following laugh was a little desperate, it melted into a low cry when Sendak finally knotted him, taking his time, slow enough that by the time Shiro came, his legs were quivering, shaking from pleasure. He would’ve collapsed if not for Sendak’s arms holding him up.

Once it was over, they laid in bed for another hour, cuddling up together, basking in the feeling of not needing to fuck for once. When Shiro shifted in Sendak’s arms, his ass throbbed, a reminder that the next few hours were going to be very unpleasant.

“Do you still want another child?” Sendak asked, nuzzling the top of his head.

“You’re only saying that now hoping I’m still thinking about it.”

“Well?”

“I love you, but we are not having another baby.”

Sendak chuckled, tilting Shiro’s head back so he could kiss him. “That is not what I asked.”

“Ugh. You know I want another baby, but we can’t.” He squirmed as Sendak’s fingers teased at his ass. “Don’t. Maybe when all this is over we can have another, but I’m very happy with the two we have now. Which I’d like to see.”

Sendak perked up at the mention of the twins.

Together they got in the shower. Sendak suggested that they use the sonic function for a faster exit, but Shiro wanted the hot water for his sore muscles—particularly his thighs and calves. He stayed under the spray for a ridiculously long time, dozing against the wall, and it was Sendak who eventually forced him to get out.

He wiped Shiro down with the fluffiest towels they had available, massaging his arms and legs while he did so, careful of the various claw wounds that had been left in the wake of their mating.

“How do you feel?” Sendak asked quietly while he was wringing out Shiro’s hair.

Shiro hummed, eyes closed. “Feel good. Sore, but that’s not unusual. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Sendak returned warmly. What felt like years ago, he’d barely been able to articulate caring about Shiro, and now—now they were in love.

Shiro smiled sleepily up at Sendak, pushing all the love and affection he could through the bond. He felt Sendak take hold of it, his one eye that was gazing at Shiro bright.

#shendak #saltyhedgeh0g #i love you girl #thank you #mpreg /#implied mpreg /#voltron /#my fic #fic #commission fic #break free verse #it'll never let me go haha

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djeebus · 6 years

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January 6, 2018

Shake It Out

Performed by Florence and the Machine

Written by Florence Welch and Paul Epworth

From Wikipedia: Welch elaborated the songwriting process of the song adding that it can be compared to a really good hangover cure.. She stated, "I wanted to just shake something out, shake out these regrets, shake out these things that haunt you. It was one of those songs that came in about half an hour and when you've got a hangover, it is almost like a hangover cure. You're like, thank you! I don't want everyone to think that I always write songs with a hangover! Cause I don't, I really don't. But with this one I have to say there was a bit of one lurking in my mind as I wrote it. It was like I was trying to write a hangover cure. Shake It Out is a four-and-a-half-minute gothic pop and rock song which contains swelling, gospel-flavored pop, with churchy organ and pounding drums setting a cathartic scene for Welch’s fiery singing.

And the glowing reviews of its composition just continue on from there, gushing about its anthemic quality and the sheer ecstasy of her voice conjuring up spiritual rebirth. The lyrics themselves are riddled with cliches but the delivery just takes away any part of you that might find it trite. It’s the sort of song that was meant to be recorded at Abbey Road and stands tall among its contemporaries from there.

Holy shitballs, is this one a punch in the gut. I like to think it’s easy to pick out one great and resonant moment from any good song, but this one… Obviously, I liked it from the first time I heard it. It’s everything I love above all else in song: a well crafted rhythm with the absolute perfect voice accompanying it. Did I mention the voice second? Oh, I’m dead wrong. This woman, this elemental goddess brings the goods from the first line to the very end.

My personal moment of “wow, does this ever evoke the feels” is in the first verse: And I've been a fool and I've been blind I can never leave the past behind I can see no way, I can see no way I'm always dragging that horse around

All of his questions, such a mournful sound Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground

A call to arms, indeed. Cut the ties that bind and get rid of them for good. Bury them and walk away. When I felt things, it was deeper and more meaningful than “she” ever did. And time is healing up the damage that’s done to my well-being, but there are days… and even writing this, reading these gushing reviews about the force of nature that is Florence Welch. This isn’t just sonically beautiful, it’s epically beautiful.

Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

And I've been a fool and I've been blind

I can never leave the past behind

I can see no way, I can see no way

I'm always dragging that horse around

All of his questions, such a mournful sound

Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground

So I like to keep my issues drawn

But it's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

And I am done with my graceless heart

So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

And given half the chance would I take any of it back

It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone

It's always darkest before the dawn

Oh whoa, oh whoa...

And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't

So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope

It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat

'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me, yeah

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

#shake it out #florence + the machine #song of the day

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silverhands-etcetera · 5 years

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On The Road, Again.

Oh my, it’s been some time, hasn't it? There ain’t a lot of words I can think of to express the change and the loss and the perspective that has come into play since the last time I took to writing my days down on these pages. Perhaps in due time we’ll get around to telling all of the stories, if I can manage to get them out -a few of the tales bring water to my eyes, so maybe it’s good that the medium I work in here is just words, consumed long after they are brought to bear.

Whoa, that got dramatic…

Get this- we’re on tour. I’m in a plane, way up over Saskatchewan. Currently, My parents are in Virginia, my brothers are in their homes, Esme is in Rock Island & BJ is up there in the upper Mississippi valley, Joy & Tom are just above Greenlake, Jack is in Bellevue, Lucien is in Kirkland playing guitar, Ethan is in Nashville, Julian is mixing your next favorite record, and Aimee, Sherri & Michael are a few rows behind me in this huge metal tube up in the sky.

But it wasn’t supposed to be this way - all of us on a direct flight in the same plane, that is. I bought a ticket that sent me through Salt Lake City, entirely on the basis of economy. That was a couple months ago. A whole lot has transpired since then, on the road to me sitting in 23B, and pecking out this story.

This trip has been in the works for some time. Back when we were young & idealistic & slightly more foolish than I am right now.(I am aware that I changed our pronoun in mid sentence there, but it seems more correct that way.) I only jest a little about my altered level of foolishness. I know it’s a bit of a cliche, but sometimes there are events that open your eyes to how things really are, the people who glue your world together, and the people we hold esteem for without any real reason except for the ideas in our own heads. I’ve spent a lot of my life making space for, and forgiving the acts of one particular person. I wish it wasn’t so, but sometimes it takes a full-on tragedy to open the eyes of a fool such as I. I’m not gonna get into that right now, but I’m in a space where there is no grey area. I am heavy on regrets & light on shame or burdens.

I ain’t taken a band on the road for a couple years now. I have walked a many hundreds of miles in Spain in my last couple visits, but haven’t played a proper gig on the european continent since the (pre-election) 2016 tour. And my travel writing has dropped off too. Last spring, I thought I was in bad shape. I was nursing a broken heart, for sure. Since then I have lost my most noble role model, my strongest mentor, and the Dog who straight-up saved my life when I couldn’t find my identity or purpose. So yeah, a few things have changed. Anybody who knew Manolo, Steve or Faron would readily understand how the world is different without them in it. I’ve learned a lot from the choices they made, and the self-righteous acts of those who would take their choices away from them. I wish there was a way I could have learned the lesson without all the grief, but we all know that real lessons don’t come cheap.

As always, I digress. -

I think it was around February this year, I was talking to Alwin about bringing Silverhands back to Germany. We were talking about a gig in Erkelenz. I’d been rethinking what my band meant. Trying to get the songs to return to their essence, so to speak. Along the way, if I could step up my guitar playing that’d be pretty cool too… so Silverhands is a 3-piece band now. Just Aimee on the drums & Sherri on the bass, and most dramatically different- just me on guitar. We work really hard on letting the songs breathe and just exist. Many times in the past I have felt the joy of being pulled along by the songs and the people playing them. It’s a beautiful thing to hear a little sonic progeny of your very own sitting up and telling you how the ride is gonna go. Showing you that it has a voice of its own & there ain’t nothing you can do about it. Kinda how I imagine it’s like to have grown children. But songs ain’t children, and they are never too old for me to put over my knee & change their attitude when I see fit.

This stage in the life of my band is where I chill the hell out & try to assess where the songs are, and to potentially cull anything that doesn’t stand up on it’s own. I’ve been blessed with some inspired lead players -folks who can slip deeper melodic passages between the & and the 1 than I often manage to fortify an entire verse with. The beauty of this is that I can show up to any gig, hack out three chords and an occasional minor VI, and somebody is gonna turn it into music. Right now I’m trying to make sure I’m holding up my end of the bargain, and hoping to inform any future songwriting with a deeper level of independence from flourish. Clapton did a good job with JJ Cale songs, but they were all better when they were just JJ Cale songs.

I play with a few bands. Silverhands doesn’t even get the bulk of my time. I am lucky enough to play gigs with lots of varied folks playing all kinds of stuff, but I’m only IN just a couple of bands -I still get to play drums for the Joy Mills band, I play prog-funk & straight-up hardcore bluegrass on the bass fiddle with Supernatal & Darlin’ Do, respectively, and I rock the shit out of the electric Bass with Del Vox (if I might say so myself).

All y’all know that Del Vox is Sherri Jerome. And Sherri Jerome is Del Vox. I loooove these songs. There’s a lot of challenge in them, and consequently, there is much reward in playing with this batch of people.

It so happened that Sherri & I were both considering tour booking around the same time. Our bands’ unique personnel situations allowed us an opportunity to benefit from the usually mundane and costly logistics of travel. We booked each band on its own short run of dates, in mostly the same circuit of venues, back-to-back from the middle of September to the middle of October. Both bands are hitting some familiar haunts & some fresh new cities. (I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to Temse) (I actually have very few retrievable memories of belgium in general, but I’m pretty sure it’s always a good time)

As the tours started coming together, we began the long process of planning, preparing, refining our concepts, & ultimately packing our bags. I spent a lot of time deferring the literal act of packing, as well as much of the intangible act of “planning”, due to a hyper-busy summer into autumn -I have been playing a lot of bass gigs, stretching out on some country chops that I apparently grew up knowing, but never had the sense to use before now. I love learning new music & playing with new bands, but it takes up a big part of my brain, and ultimately all the clerical duties of being in a band tend to suffer for the sake of The Gig. I recognize that gigs are dependent on me being able to plan/book them, but when that big boulder gets rolling, sometimes you just do your best to stay in front of it.

So I bought a plane ticket awhile back, but really hadn’t put any thought into “planning” anything until Monday, and hadn’t considered “packing” until Tuesday morning. On Monday I realized that I had basically one pair of pants. And I was about to share a van with 3 people for a month. On Tuesday, newly outfitted, I realized I had no luggage that would fit all of the things I need to carry for this venture. Enter the Goodwill on 145th…

A giant, yet slim, tweed trunk, like the kind you'd expect to see on top of a stagecoach, goes home with me on Tuesday. I took the neck of my ’72 Geddy Lee Jazz bass & toss it in with about 20 plain black t-shirts and some socks. I am set.

I still had a gig to play on Tuesday night, so Jack loaned me his slick new blonde Jazz bass, which plays like 80 degree butter, and I went down to Conor’s to sew some pockets with Kelly Van Camp in Fredd’s new Tuesday-night project. My plan was to drink one beer & head home straight after the gig, but the North Star beckoned, and I was out till roughly 2:30, in bed by 3. It was a good night.

My eyes open around 9 AM on Wednesday. All I know is that I need to pick up the drummer at 1, and I need to get my second pair of pants in the laundry. I take a moment to consider falling back asleep, just playing guitar all morning, or any number of things more lovely than washing clothes & lugging suitcases. But we’ve got a job to do, and it starts with some cabbage & eggs. Just like every morning.

When I consider intangibles like “time” and “distance”, it always seems feasible that you could do all you need to do, clean up the dishes, take a nap, a walk in the park, entertain guests, and get a shine on your shoes all before 1pm. As it was, it was all I could do to meet up with the coffee crew up at the Herkimer before the headache started setting in. It was good to get a breather in what was going to be a very long day. Jackie & Aimee & I sat in the sun and moderated our respective awarenesses with warm beverages, warm sun and oxygen. Joy met us up at Graycie’s house, where we all piled in the van with our cases & bags and the remainder of an old flask that Aimee found in the back seat of my car. Let’s get this show on the road.

It was all we could do to find a table at the airport bar, another story altogether in getting any beverages brought to us. So after one round, I had to split to head to my gate & get on my two-part flight, while the rest of the band gets on the direct flight an hour later (remember, this was the story I was telling) but at my gate, there was no airplane. I expressed my concerns at the help desk in missing my connection, and the dear woman immediately rebooked me on the direct Seattle-Amsterdam flight. With the rest of my band.

A short train ride over to the international terminal, and now here I am. Or here we are, as it were.

Now that I’ve had my airline bottle of Dewar’s & a tiny chicken salad and fruit cup, we’re all up to speed -the only real variable being, will my old tweed trunk and the precious bass inside of it get to Amsterdam with me? But this is ultimately a question for the next episode, which starts roughly when the sun rises over Holland on Thursday morning.

At this point in the blog, we’ll find ourselves at the beginning of one story, chronologically, but also at the end, as things go on the page. Feel free to continue reading about my previous adventures, walking in Spain, and past tours way back to some bygone days.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

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deadcactuswalking · 5 years

Text

The Beauty of “Doin’ Your Mom” by Ray William Johnson

Love him or hate him, Ray William Johnson is a pioneer of new media. He was one of the most famous YouTubers back in the day in what was about the late 2000s and early 2010s, and was really the first dude to make a true, long-term career on the platform, forming a company just to fund his Equals Three show, which, yes, it’s somewhat unwatchable but it’s vintage YouTube so I give most of it an excuse and play it off as dated comedy from someone who was actually old enough to know better, but it was a different time and I’m actually consistently impressed by Ray and how he continues to pop up everywhere as nostalgia for the early days of YouTube starts to seep into this post-ironic era of Internet culture, as people remember the remnants of the more sincere YouTube, with people like Quinton Reviews, TheGamerFromMars and wavywebsurf making informative videos about the classic YouTube and its viral videos that propel someone into stardom for at least about 15 minutes. Now we’re in the age of a company-fuelled platform that treats its community of content creators as the fries on the side of their order of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Do I miss the days of “Chocolate Rain” and when any viral hit could make it through the cracks? Of course I do, but it’s not like that can’t happen and memes can’t spread, look at how Lil Nas X has taken advantage of the memes surrounding “Old Town Road” to build his own career – and it was only a matter of time before massive companies learned how to use the Internet. I’d argue Ray is at fault at least in some capacity for making the transition to a talk show highlights website a tad cooler, though, and it’s not like he wasn’t making himself and his show (As well as his animated “Band” which I’m pretty sure is just him) a brand in itself. Ray overall was a fascinating man and still is, and whilst most of his content isn’t looked upon fondly, he does have a few gems in there, like “Orphan Tears” from the Your Favorite Martian days, one I still jam to every now and then, because it’s catchy and whilst incredibly dated now due to the club beat and Bill Cosby references doesn’t feel like it won’t last the test of time like most other YouTube content that has ever been uploaded, especially its music – including the more recent stuff from people like the Paul brothers, but before “It’s Everyday Bro” there was another iconic comedy hip hop track on YouTube that I’d argue is a much more judicious choice for analysis, and it was by Fatty Spins – often stylised as FAttY SPiNS for the sake of confusion – a hip-hop collective fronted by Ray William Johnson and his friends Micfri (The white dude) and Breeze, a singer and according to this song, guitarist? They released about six known songs and have since been lost in the sands of time, at least for all we know. This is my review of the hip-hop classic, “Doin’ Your Mom”.

SONG REVIEW: “Doin’ Your Mom” – FAttY SPiNS (Ray William Johnson)

This song only has 400,000 views on its music video as we speak and it’s on the official channel for the band (The description states Micfri uploaded it) so I’m perplexed, I thought it was much bigger but I suppose it’s either a late reupload or it was never as viral as I assumed. Anyway, let’s dive deep into “Doin’ Your Mom”.

Doin’ your mom, doin’-doin’ your mom, doin’ your mom, doin-doin’ your mom...

I’m not even going to get into the absolutely insane video that screams early YouTube but it’s pretty cute, it’s just a bunch of adults probably too old to be yelling along to the repeated refrain of “Doin’ your mom” but they’re having fun with it at least, although Micfri makes no effort to actually lip-sync. My favourite shots in the video include of course the iconic intro where they walk on the street with a boombox like they just walked away from an explosion and the acapella version of the hook plays in the background like it was the most grandiose chorus in the history of music, but also honestly any shot where Ray is making a face, like at about 1:20, the shot with the green-screened purple background while the hook’s playing. I know this is intended to be funny (That’s why I didn’t do this for April Fools as I was going to; it felt too contrived) but there are parts in the video that seem so natural and like they thought the song was so much better than it is, and it’s almost more humorous than the song itself. Let’s briefly cover the instrumental while we’re here – it’s nothing all too special but it’s a fitting backing for the epic feel the song has, with the reverb and echo on Ray’s voice as he sprays over an odd yet VERY late-2000s fusion of rock and hip-hop, as there are some GarageBand-sounding guitars and a buzzing synth that help propel the intense strings that almost carry the song, with additional little tweaks like the twinkling synths adding a lot of punch but not making it too cluttered. Honestly, there are some parts of the song that seem like genuinely great musical ideas that may seem kind of wasted on this topic, like the screeching guitar solo or when the beat cuts out in the middle of each verse just to return with the guitar added and an additional synth melody, with both Ray and Micfri’s verses reflecting this change in a shift of their flow. I should probably add that Ray is actually a pretty good rapper for a YouTube personality, and his voice is suited for tracks like this (Yeah, somehow the chorus never gets old despite being repeated ad nauseum). As one of the comments said on the band’s Equals Three Wiki page (Yes, that exists and its comment section is hilariously absurd), he kind of sounds like he could voice Knuckles the Echidna. That’s enough rambling about how oddly appealing this song is sonically and let’s get straight to the meat and potatoes.

COOL TRANSiTiON

The last line of the hook has always puzzled me.

You know we straight, we doin’ your mom!

“Yes, I had to confirm I am in fact heterosexual by engaging in intercourse with your mother”. I know “Straight” is part of hip-hop slang and refers to people who don’t engage in criminal or dangerous activity like gang violence...

Yeah, we straight but if you wrinkle up the situation, he will go grab the iron – Tyler, the Creator on “OKRA”

..But did we really need reassurance from Ray William Johnson that he and his friend Micfri aren’t shooting people? – Oh, and what does this have to do with doin’ my mom? I shouldn’t worry, the verses go into fascinating detail about how Ray and Micfri met my mother as they trade bars recalling the event.

I’m doin’ your mom, yes, yours! / I first saw her in the Wal-Mart picking out your drawers

Micfri’s first verse is probably the most normal verse here, and doesn’t really have anything I can make all too much fun of other than an awful pun, until it ends because the last line is... well...

Five minutes later, she agreed to get with me / So we went and rocked the minivan like, “Giggity, giggity, giggity”

Micfri goes painfully offbeat just to shove his awkward Family Guy reference in there because I guess it still was 2010 and the show was still relevant, although I’d argue it has more of a place on YouTube now that those funny moments compilations are piling up way more views than they should. That’s all fine, right? Like there’s nothing in this verse that is too interesting, but that dreadful joke transitions pretty hilariously into when Ray comes in...

I was ridin’ your mom like she’s Mario Kart / I gave her a lift back to her crib ‘cause her car wouldn’t start

Yeah, okay, he stretches out some sentences and mumbles a few lines so they barely fit the meter but it works in such a janky manner because the rest of the song is an absolute mess anyway so if anything Ray is just making it work, because, mmm, he just gets it. I love he pronounces words here as well, it’s odd as hell, especially when he accentuates “Car” with a high-pitched and slightly Canadian accent?

How many times I tap that ass? OVER 9000!

Oh, my God, I forgot about this part. This is obviously a reference to the ancient Dragon Ball Z meme where Vegeta says Goku’s power level is at “over 9000” in the 4Kids dub and it was probably funny then, but with the gang vocals and his enthusiastic delivery, it’s even funnier now with nearly a decade of hindsight. There are some jokes that legitimately hold up though, mostly because they’re not incredibly dated and instead rely on Ray’s wit.

Yeah, she called me Pledge ‘cause I knocked the dust off her

Come on, that’s actually pretty clever, I suppose. Ray’s still a comedian after all despite all the memery so he has some clever jabs throughout his verses at least, especially the second verse, which is... even more interesting.

I like your momma’s big butt, and I cannot lie

That’s a cool reference that doesn’t feel forced because it fits in with the song. Nice, we’re seeing some improvement.

We make sexy time, yes? And every night I tap that / She saw me butt-naked, now she thinks I’m half-black

Wh... What? I thought Ray WAS half-black? Is that the joke? I don’t know, I mean seemingly it’s saying how black men are stereotyped to be packing under there but HALF-black? Aren’t you underselling yourself a bit there, Ray? Also, he’s already half-black, or at least mixed. I mean, he’s said the N-word once or twice before on Equals Three so I assumed he had to have some sort of privileges. Is he just that insanely tanned? This is probably the second most questionable punchline in the song, we’ll get to the worst one in a bit.

And I blame it on the al-al-alcohol

Wow, this song really IS dated, huh?

She likes the donkey punch, she likes the dirty Sanchez / Sometimes, she even likes to fool around in YOUR bed

Okay, that is epic, and by that I mean it’s the only bar in this track that feels like it was a good diss directed towards the listener, because most of this song goes into grim detail about the intercourse with said listener’s mother but none of it is as ruthlessly personal as that one.

And I’ll be honest, she likes me to Chris Brown her when she acts like Rihanna

Oh... Oh... That’s, uh, that’s a big yikes from me, Ray, Jesus, okay, well, this was topical in 2010 but I’m still not going to excuse this. I don’t mind using Chris Brown’s domestic assault case as a punchline against him because he deserves all the vitriol he gets, but relating him leaving Rihanna bruised and bleeding after having her phone smashed and being punched and freaking BITTEN to having rough sex with the listener’s mother is insanely insensitive, and how the drum pattern cuts out for Ray to say the last part, especially with the reverb on his voice, makes it even more awkward. You’ll be glad to know, however, that Micfri immediately justifies that horribly problematic bar with easily the best on the track.

She’s so therapeutic when I need to cure my restlessness / I (Brrrrrr) motorboat your mom’s breastesses

I don’t know if it’s the “Brrrr” or the “breastesses” but this line is hilarious to me, and I have mostly no idea why it’s such a good one. Anyway, the verses are finished now, so you expect us to have just a few repeats of the chorus until the song ends, right? But no. We have a bridge, and it’s the gorgeous climax of the song (No pun intended) that honestly may just be the best part, other than the comments on its Wiki page, but we’ll get to that. Breeze croons the bridge in cheap Auto-Tune, and the amount of vocal effects that are added unnecessarily to accentuate the oddly profound lyrics here, that are said only twice but are so essential to why the song has aged much better than it seems to have on the surface.

I’m havin’ sex with your mother and that makes me (Better, better) better than you

There’s something I can’t describe about this bridge and the subsequent guitar solo that makes it work so effectively, and I’m left speechless by it every time. The best part is I’m not joking for the most part, and this song, despite its mind-numbing chorus and incredibly dated and at some times shockingly offensive lyrics, it’s aged incredibly well because it knows it will not be taken seriously and is entirely self-aware, but in a way that doesn’t seep into the song’s content. Most memes these days are TOO self-aware, so when a legitimate, genuine meme comes along that embraces it instead of revelling in it, I’m fully supportive.

You was at the club / Bottoms up when I first met you – The Boyboy Westcoast on “Bottoms Up”

Boyboy embraces the meme and he has a very lighthearted perspective and modest attitude on the song that makes his self-awareness less of an aging factor, and it’s the same for Ray, but some of the memes feel self-aware to a fault when they’re all too loud about the sarcastic manner in which they desperately cling onto a self-awareness that may not actually be there, like when the Backpack Kid did that awfully cringeworthy Verified video on Genius about his flossing song. The heart wasn’t there and it felt plastic and manufactured, but it’s all present in Ray, Micfri and Breeze, as they’re all having fun dancing in the video and while they know they’re really stupid and they look like lunatics, they don’t care... and disregarding the comments of the wiki page in which anonymous users respond to in-depth analysis and rankings of the Mario Kart games with “I will end you”, and no, I’m not kidding, that is the beauty of “Doin’ Your Mom”.

You know we straight, we doin’ your mom

deadcactuswalking

Seriously though check out the wiki page for both the song and the band (They’re linked here). The comments are beautifully absurd.

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alivingroomatthebottomofalake · 5 years

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TOP 50 ALBUMS OF 2018

This year I took a different approach to last year. Instead of seeking out as much music as I could and trying to absorb it all so I could make a comprehensive list of highlights, this year I just let myself gravitate towards the things I knew interested me, and let the things that really grabbed me stay on rotation for as long as I needed them to. Some albums became easy favourites, and while there's some albums on here that I admittedly spent a lot less time with than others, I honestly think that all of these releases have been influential for me in someway, and represent some of the most exciting and interesting listening experiences released this year. The order is super loose. I don't have a score/rating system and I don't care. They go more or less in order of things that I listened to most often, or things I got recently that blew my head off. I am limiting my descriptions to a short 50 words or so. I'll avoid talking about genre as much as possible, and hopefully you'll be compelled to seek out some of these releases yourself.

1. Tropical Fuck Storm - A Laughing Death in Meatspace

If you want huge fucking noisy guitar sounds and ear scraping riffs, witty and memorable lyrics, arrangements that will continue to surprise, and a raw uncompromising attitude, this is it. This album feels unabashedly Melbourne, and maybe that’s what I connect with, but it's so brutally cynical and honestly so, without any conceited hipster bullshit. It sounds so fresh. Nothing is held back, it’s full throttle creativity, and that's how punk rock should be.

Favourite tracks: Antimatter Animals, Soft Power, You Let my Tires Down.

2. John Zorn - The Urmuz Epigrams

Playing most of the instruments himself, Zorn has constructed some challenging, weird and thoroughly beautiful collages of sound, transmuting it into a music that will entice and entrance. The pieces are assembled from instrumental improvisations and field recordings, scattered with little miniatures of melody, and some sweet percussion from Ches Smith. It feels like he's really exploring sound in a new way here, it's the most fresh thing he's released in a long time, and for a guy with such a history, that may be saying something. He has brought his compositional mastery to the studio and taken a divergent step towards something exciting. It's a really dense and rewarding listen, and yet I can't wait for more of this.

Favourite tracks: This Piano Lid Serves as a Wall. Then Again, Who Amongst Us Can Complain.

3. Death Grips - Year of the Snitch

Death Grips deliver yet another shocker of filthy bombast. It's a very noisy, intense, and a very weird album by their usual standards. I feel like the group have completely transcended any/all attempts to categorise them. The "experimental hiphop" and "punk rap" type assessments are completely inadequate for a band of this calibre. They have put so much more into their music, and come through as a unique and unstoppable beast. This album effortlessly mixes up the noisy rockier side of their personality with the beatsy electronic stuff, and the vocals/lyrics are intense and obscure as ever, making it an exhilarating album of surprises. It's a totally wild ride from start to finish. This band just can't do anything wrong for me.

Favourite tracks: Flies, Black Paint, Streaky.

4. Senyawa - Sujud

Wow. Just wow. When this came out a couple months ago, I was floored. It's all the kinds of perfect you can imagine music being. It's mysterious as fuck, it's deeply moving, and it oscillates masterfully between warm and kind, to dense and ugly and intense. I have been lucky enough to experience the Indonesian duo Senyawa live in the past, and it was a fucking mind blower to say the least. This album follows on from that experience with amazing new ideas. The vocals are incredible. Rully Shabara can go so deep, it's an imposing sound, authoritative yet calming. His highs are otherworldly and beautiful. How well the voice moves around in the space of each composition is truly the charm of Shabara's skill. The versatility of instrumentalist Wukir Suryadi is also on display in this album, performing on a number of instruments, and crafting some unique moods in which to submerge your psyche. I'm a big fan of their smooth, warm, kind and meditative tracks, but I love it for the grit, the extremes they reach make this album phenomenal.

Favourite tracks: Penjuru Menyatu (Unified Counters), Tanggalkan Di Dunia (Undo The World), Sujud (Prostration).

5. Johanna Sulkunen Sonority - Koan

Finnish vocalist and sound artist Johanna Sulkunen created this gorgeous album, recorded in various Zen Buddhist temples around Japan. The music is all electronically processed arrangements of these temple recordings, with a big emphasis on the artist's voice, and the manipulation of the voice in space. Each track seems to focus on a single simple idea, and explore it beyond any sense of musical logic or tradition/formal process. So each piece in turn becomes a kind of sound koan, a question asked not to find an answer, but to understand that in the act of doing the question fades away and the truth emerges, often not the kind you were looking for. So it is with listening to this album, listening translates to an embodied understanding of the music, where the music emerges in ways you aren't prepared for. When it does, that moment is clear and joyous. It's a kind of avant-garde meditation really.

Favourite tracks: Shosen, Perfection, The Wind Moves.

6. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - Abstractions

Abstractions is a single long (22 minutes) piece of modular synthesizer music, that ebbs and flows and blips and pops it's way from surprising sound and riff to more bizarre surprising sounds and blips, fading between a series of beautiful and strange ideas that constantly feel like all manner of sanity is unraveling, yet still masterfully held together. Each gesture evokes shape and colour, the interplay of contrasting of sounds raises questions that otherwise might be overlooked. The balance of repetitive arpeggios and melodic material with the squelchy, almost cartoon like sound fx punctuating and dancing around the sound field, see-saws to and fro, never at rest, always at play. It's a really fun and playful music with lots of intrigue.

7. Thembi Soddel - Love Songs

Don't freak out, yep this is the album you put on, don't let the title fool you. Is there nothing more obnoxious and self indulgent than another fucking love song? How often I put on the radio only to here the most childish, and often misogynistic, cliches recycled in the name of "love". This album says fuck that. Soddel has created an epic record that explores the tensions and drama of love and relationships, using suspense and bursts of noise to articulate trauma and manipulation, all the bullshit that hides behind the closed doors of the seemingly pure intentions espoused in love songs. Sonically, it's a tour de force. Opening from silence, the sound takes ages to emerge, but the wild ride and aural and physical brutality that ensues is incredible. It's also (from a formal/compositional point of view) fucking beautiful music.

Favourite track: Who's To Blame?

8. Efrim Manuel Menuck - Pissing Stars

It's really beautiful to hear an artist trying new things like this. Coming from a guitar/post rock back ground, but on this album trying his hand at modular synth (and conveniently listing all the modules in the credits for the nerds playing at home), Menuck has sculpted some incredible songs from the ether of voltages. His vocal style, which I've loved him for in previous projects (SMZ stuff in particular) is on point as usual, and the balance of personal and political lyrical content is also on point. I'm a big fan of the way the songs evolve and grow with the the drones and soundscapes, and don't get trapped or watered down by trying to be songs. Everything feels loose enough and free enough, but in control. It's dynamic and strange and dense, and yet melodic and soulful, and full of nuance and subtleties.

Favourite tracks: Black Flags Ov Thee Holy Sonne, The State And Its Love And Genoicide, Kills v. Lies, The Beauty Of Children And The War Against The Poor.

9. Hekla - Á

I was so fortunate to see Hekla perform live recently in Iceland. It was a beautiful concert, and her voice and theremin playing were both captivating. Hekla performs more or less all the sounds on the album with only a theremin and some fx processing - namely loops, pitch shift/ harmoniser, and delays. The compositions are built around quite simple phrases, that allow space for her voice to be really emotive, and allowing room for more complex layers of theremin melody to take the limelight in the interludes between verses. The album is beautifully produced, and totally does the memory of the concert justice. Most of the songs are quite slow, and mellow, with a kind of melancholy to them. It feels very Icelandic in that sense.

Favourite tracks: Muddle, Hatur, Í Felum.

10. Jon Hassell - Listening To Pictures (Pentimento Volume One)

The idea of painting with sound, while not so new, is also not quite as often explored so literally. Hassell paints, and paints over ideas, layering up moods and genres, showing us one thing, and blurring it into something else. As a trumpet player, and at 81 years old, Hassell is still sounding hip as all fuck, but as a composer of electronic music, this album is quite new and special. Somehow, all the combinations - the jazz, the ambient, the electronic and Afrocentric percussion/beat driven ideas, the more abstract and textural synth stuff - it still all blends into something completely original, which continues on from Hassell's own unique "4th world" style of music. I'm really impressed, and as it's "volume 1", i'm really looking forward to more from him.

Favourite tracks: Picnic, Pastorale Vassant, Ndeya

11. Badskin - Where Was I?

Badskin is Melbourne based guitarist/sound artist Carla Oliver. Her new album is a gorgeous balance of subdued, floating melodies, drifting through impeccably crafted atmospheres. Utilising a broad range of sound sources, including the tinkling of bells and washing and swelling of cymbals, other more striking percussion, running water and whispering voices, gurgling synthesizers, and lots of gorgeously processed unrecognisable sounds that shift and move harmoniously to give the album its more musical qualities. The whole record kind of melts over you, like an evening mist, everything is obscured and dreamlike, and the effect is beautiful.

Favourite tracks: 3, 4.

12. YoshimiO, Susie Ibarra, Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe – Flower of Sulphur

This year a lot of artists who I adore got together for collaborative albums, and none of which did I anticipate more greatly than this trio. And not because I expected anything more amazing than usual, but because it seemed like such an odd combo, and knowing each performer's work so well, hearing them in this kind of context, I had no idea how it would work. The album is 4 tracks, live, and all improvised. Thus it comes with all the ecstasy and trepidation of a first meeting improv, with things being explored, players really listening and feeling out the space. There never seems to be full blown apprehension, but the players are deeply sensitive improvisors, and as such, the music is continually made fresh and becomes joyous to indulge in. Also, it being an album of drums, voice, and modular synth all coming together makes this the ideal record for someone like me. I'm glad to know that they've continued to perform since this first record and I hope they release something down the line to document how far they may have come.

Favourite tracks: Bbb, Ccc.

13. John Zorn - The Book Beri'ah

Zorn has brought the Masada project to a close with this final release of 11 albums (which I am reviewing as the box set because reasons). In a similar vein to the Book of Angels series, Zorn has selected 11 different ensembles to arrange the compositions. This means obviously some albums are going to be very different to others, and personally I've enjoyed most of it, but some less so. Disc 1 by Sofia Rei and JC Maillard is definitely a favourite. With beautiful words set to Zorn's melodies, the whole thing feels like a global music fiesta, bridging the Jewish influence with a South American folk style that feels so right it's almost unbelievable. Disc 2 by Cleric is a complete departure, with some of the most brutal jazz infused metal, it's perfectly wrong, and probably my favourite in the set. The Secret Chiefs 3 disc is very much what you would expect from Trey Spruance and co, and it's also a highlight, although I feel it's different to (and maybe not as awesome as) their Book of Angels release, it's still as varied and exciting. These three discs alone would all make this set worth the purchase even if the rest were terrible (they're not). But I won't go into all of them. The Spike Orchestra album is pretty cool, and I'm a big fan of the Banquet of Spirits album. There's enough music going on here to last a year, so if you plan to go down this rabbit hole, take your time because you'll need it.

Favourite tracks: To be honest, I'm still working my way through most of these albums, and I can't pick a favourite track yet.

14. Keiji Haino & Sumac - American Dollar Bill - Keep Facing Sideways, You're Too Hideous To Look At Face On

Heavy, noisy, ecstatic, and phenomenal. Sumac are a tight and brutal band, and the additional chaos injected by Haino makes this album as joyous and intense and just downright awesome as the title(s). The album flits between slow hard doom like riffs, through to long droney and experimental passages of feedback and Haino's signature vocal explorations. With song titles that go into great detail, it's an album that evokes a lot of strange thoughts and feelings. Mostly it's just a lot of surprises and exciting musical shifts, as the band keep changing it up, swelling and diving and destroying music at every possible turn. I feel like this is one of those "not for everyone" types of heavy albums, maybe due to the improvised feel of much of the music, but fuck that, this is the shit that everyone should be across.

Favourite tracks: What have I Done? (I Was Reeling In Something White and I Became Able to do Anything I Made a Hole Imprisoned Time Within it Created Friction Stopped Listening to Warnings Ceased Fixing my Errors Made the Impossible Possible? Turned Sadness Into Joy) Pt. 1, I'm Over 137% A Love Junkie And Still It's Not Enough Pt. 2

15. William Basinski + Lawrence English - Selva Oscura

A collaboration between two of the masters of the ambient minimal soundscape, Basinski and English have created a lush, evolving world of sound that teases us with stasis but perpetually drifts and sheds layers, constantly swelling and changing just enough. It's peaceful, but it's not empty. The first track is liquid, and mostly calm, the few moments of turbulence are there to remind you to keep your ears attuned. Track 2 has more recognisable pulses and movement in the air, almost as if the music itself were made by the wind. This piece has a lot of shifting frequency and movement. It's a constantly intriguing listening experience that asks very little of the listener, and once you give it your attention it's immersive and delightful.

Favourite track: There are only 2 so listen to them both!

16. I Hold The Lion's Paw - Abstract Playgrounds.

A treasure-trove of slinky grooves and expansive, exploratory free jazz stylings, executed with a level of mastery that is to be expected with these players. Side A is a big live improvised jam, and side B is more composition focused, but also built from restructured moments from side A, not merely remixes or a refined and practiced formula, the group have gone deep into the ideas and made something much more surprising. Some of the tracks resemble something much more electronic and abstract than would be expected in a free jazz context, and yet, it always seems to fit. In fact I think the second side is more interesting and as a frame for the more straight up 70s free jazz stuff, it makes for a richer, deeper experience.

Favourite tracks: Snake Charmers' Convention, (intakes from the) Snake Charmers, Deluzian Lawn Bowls, Afro 1.

17. Alessandro Cortini + Lawrence English - Immediate Horizon

A Live recording of two of my favourite artists collaborating at Berlin Atonal. Immediate Horizon is a slow build, but it becomes engulfing and mesmerising before you're ready for it. The compositions are simple enough, often built on layering slowly evolving parts and increasing the density and pushing the extremities of tone. The elements are also quite simple and sparse, with pulsing bass synth tones underlying simple looping melodies that layer up, fill the space and blur reality with epic reverb. There are moments of complete bliss and there are moments of complete overwhelming intensity, with a massive guitar sound that feels like it's being played inside your ears as it tears through the drones. overall it's an epic sound journey, and one that deserves some volume when listened to, as I'm sure it would have been a loud concert. The sounds are amazing and it has a great impact.

Favourite tracks: Immediate Horizon 2 +3.

18. Iki - Oracle

Iki are a 5 piece vocal group from various parts of Scandinavia, using experimental/extended vocal techniques and electronic sound manipulations to create some really interesting and beautiful music. Each track takes a seemingly simple idea or theme, and teases its way through, building the curiosity, smearing the organic sound across the air and ears, playing with space. The vocals are immaculate, they are all great singers, and they are doing some very fun and cool things with electronics that make this an exciting listen. The additional bass synths that support the voices is a nice touch, really filling up the frequency spectrum, and providing a good foundation for the shifting harmonies and textures.

Favourite tracks: Reflex, Archaea.

19. Tim Hecker - Konoyo

This is some of the best music I've ever heard. Hecker created this album in Japan with the Tokyo Gagaku ensemble, and it's co-engineered by Ben Frost. The music has such a sublime, organic, and dare I say lazy quality to it. The melodic contours and slowly evolving forms verge towards ambient music, but the intensity is too high, the dynamics are too engaging. The synths in the mix are gorgeous and full. The relationship of the electronics and traditional Japanese instrumentation is intricately woven, bridging the past and future, articulating a wholeness, and simultaneously letting the idea of meaning kind of drop away. It's fucking gorgeous and I want to know more about it, but at the time of writing this I've avoided finding out too much about the process because I'm trying to simply enjoy the sounds. Which is easy enough.

Favourite tracks: Keyed out, In mother earth phase.

20. Caterina Barbieri - Born Again in the Voltage

Barbieri is an artist who is new to me, but I am quickly a fan of any composer who can make musical sense of a Buchla 200 system. The 4 pieces here show a mastery of the system, opening with a minimal repetitive phrase piece that plays around with clocks and sequencing, really playing with time, using the tempo divisions and shifting LFO rates as tools for sculpting form. The second piece, which is performed by cellist Antonello Manzo, is a beautiful layered drone piece, that shifts around tones and harmonics, peaceful yet complex and dynamic. The cello and synth come together on track 3, the acoustic and electronic sound are integrated so well, one could almost forget it's a duet. The melodic phrase sequencing that closes the track and the subsequent atmospherics are beautiful examples of the possibilities of modular synth music. The album closer is more up tempo, and more of a a straight up synth sequence track, sounding a bit computer/scifi music, with some vocals in the background. It's a strong finish to a complex and delightful record that explores and expresses the human/machine relationship.

Favourite track: Human Developers.

21. Angelo Badalamenti & David Lynch - Thought Gang

Although recorded in the early '90s, Thought Gang doesn't sound dated, or like an after thought, it sounds so good. I am a little surprised that a lot of this material didn't make it out into the world sooner, but I'm glad it has now. As a fan of Lynch, and Badalamenti in general, I think this album fits the overall canon of the artists' work. It follows the sound of the late Twin Peaks world, mixing jazz with moody dark ambient flavours, and with the surreal spoken work passages it sounds like it could be a continuation of themes and ideas and lore that we've experienced on screen. It sounds very "today" for a project that took over 2 decades to get out. I'd love more of this in my life.

Favourite tracks: Logic and Common Sense, Woodcutters from Fiery Ships, Multi-Tempo Wind Boogie.

22. Ben Salisbury & Geoff Barrow - Annihilation (Music From the Motion Picture)

As a massive fan of the book series this film is based on, I had very high expectations for this film adaptation. I enjoyed it, and although it leaves out many of the things I felt were the best elements of the book, it stands up as a really great version of the story. Part of what works so good for the film (the visual style is the other part) is the music. Salisbury and Barrow (who were also responsible for director Alex Garland's Ex Machina score) really got into the DNA of the Area X when constructing the themes and sounds for this film. The way the sonic themes mutate and cross pollinate with each other, altering and adopting sounds and patterns as the film progresses is much clearer in the listening experience. Particularly how the guitar and vocal/choral stuff evolves, and how the wider instrumentation adopts and evolves with those themes. It's a different experience listening to a film score to listening to an "album", but either way, I think it works well enough. This is amazing music, and should be enjoyed as such.

Favourite tracks: The Alien, Lighthouse Chamber, Sheppard, Plant People.

23. The Body - I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer.

The Body work that I know is brutal, and abrasive. I think of them as a noise band, but this album is so much more. In fact, the first 2 tracks, whilst a bit dark, are also really melodic and gentle and beautiful. It takes a while before the heaviness kicks into gear, but it does and it does so brilliantly. This album is very diverse, and just when you think you've got it pegged it will throw a new idea at you. Whether it's a guest vocal or sample, a certain beat flavour or drum machine, or just switching it up from atmospheric to brutal density, The Body are constantly branching out into new territory. The Drums on this albums are a highlight. As is the use of feedback, and the vocals, all of them, are wicked. Also, the story at the end of the album is fucking creepy weird. Very cool.

Favourite tracks: Nothing Stirs, Off Script, An Urn, Sickly Heart of Sand.

24. Ryuichi Sakamoto – Async: Remodels

Firstly, I will admit I didn't love the album that these remixes were drawn from. I remember listening and moving on quickly (maybe I should revisit). I loved Sakamoto's Plankton release, and generally I'd say I'm a fan. However... This remix album features a who's who list of some of the best, some of my most favourite artists reworking and owning Sakamoto's music, doing some beautiful things with the themes, and sounds. Opening with a beautiful and luscious and triumphant Oneohtrix Point Never reworking of the track Andata, moving into the only really beat focused mix of the same track by Electric Youth. Alva Noto is on here, Arca is on here, Fennesz is on here, and they all contribute amazing remixes. The great late Johan Johannsson reworked a track, and my old hero Cornelius drops a remix on here too. So many good tracks. There are some other artists that are new to me on here too, all of who made great contributions. The whole thing is a great listen. It keeps the original spirit of Sakamoto's music intact, but stretches the sounds out through such varied worlds and hearts and perspectives, and it's joyous, relaxing, and super interesting.

Favourite tracks: disintegration (Alva Noto Remodel), solari (Fennesz Remodel), solari (Jóhann Jóhannsson Rework), andata (Oneohtrix Point Never Rework).

25. Merzbow + Hexa - Achromatic

A collaboration between 3 of my favourite artists, Achromatic is an incredible statement of sound practice and composition beyond the norms of music, it makes the idea of musical notes feel forever inadequate. Hexa (Jamie Stewart and Lawrence English) make music exploring the physicality of sound, and pushing it to the extreme, so pairing up with the legendary Merzbow, one could understand they're about to be taken on a wild ride into the sonosphere. It's not without its subtleties. There's some incredible mixing going on, the frequency bands and the sonic power are all so well composed and controlled. The arrangements for each side of the album seem to be variants of each other, with different mixes and forms of the same or related material. It's hard to get better than this kind of exhilarating sound. Turn it up.

Favourite tracks: Merzhex part 2, part 4, Hexamer.

26. Nadja & Vampilla - Artificial Acts of God

Berlin based, drone experimentalists Nadja, join forces with the eclectic and dramatic Japanese metal band Vampilla for what is one of the best things I've heard from either act in a while. It might be only 3 tracks, but it's packed to the rafters. The first 7 and a half minutes is an epic building noise piece, beautifully dense, immersive and engulfing, and eventually, as it subsides, the doom begins. The heaviest bass sound I've heard all year. Things get terrifying as the track continues, and the tempo accelerates. It doesn't let up, and shit just gets louder and thicker. It's so fucking brutal. Things continue with some chorale vocals, and some more delicate/atmospheric passages, and the overall form continues to oscillate between strange/suspenseful and intense/brutal. It's awesome.

Favourite track: That Day

27. Eartheater – IRISIRI

I have difficulty putting into words exactly what it is that makes Eartheater so interesting to me. New York based Alexandra Drewchin's work is quite a mix of ideas, and the balance of those ideas isn't exactly comfortable. I guess boiled down this is an album of songs, I want to say pop songs, but abstracted beyond anything the mainstream would handle. The songs have vocals, and many have beats, it's got all the elements of accessible music, but the forms are mutated and the ride is different - the destination is still unknown. There's some interesting blends of electronic and acoustic instruments, such as the analogue synth pulses up against luscious harp glissandos in Curtains and Peripheral, or the cinematic string loops against the stumbling beat and mumbled vocals on Inclined. Some of it feels dark and twisted, and some of it feels incredibly joyful, but the work all has an uncompromisingly personal honesty to it. For me this is the album's strength. It's not forced, but fresh. The processes are matured and self aware/assured. If this was the future of pop music, I'd be happy to turn on the radio more often.

Favourite tracks: Curtains, Tresspasses, C.L.I.T.

28. serpentwithfeet – Soil

Following up an awesome EP from a couple of years ago, serpentwithfeet comes at us with new sounds, exploring new ideas in a rich variety of new songs of tragedy and love. His voice is intoxicating. Seriously. I really enjoy that the music isn't overblown or overproduced. There's a subtly at play in the arrangements that let the voice extend out, be as flamboyant and expressive as it wants, and play around. They're trying a lot of stuff in the production, and the songs are weird, but the voice is always there to nurture and comfort and take the lead. It's the mix of avant garde production and arranging, with the melodramatic intensity of the vocal that makes it so interesting for me.

Favourite tracks: Messy, Fragrant, Invoice.

29. Sarah Davachi – Let Night Come On Bells End The Day

Words like drone, minimal, and ambient don't do justice to the work that Sarah Davachi makes. Her work is perhaps simultaneously all those things on the surface, yet, the depths of the frameworks she works with are infinitely more complex. Her sonic processes dissect time while articulating its form. If that sounds like a weird or wanky thing to say, one only needs to sit with any of her albums for a few minutes to understand it. Let Night Come On Bells End The Day feels like a kind of temporal displacement, a sonic kind of time machine. Each instrument and subsequent manipulation of the sound slows life down, reveals hidden depths to the timbres, and the arrangements meanwhile seep into the mind, mingle with memory, until you're lost in the mix.

Favourite tracks: Buhrstone, Mordents, Hours in the Evening.

30. CECILIA – Adoration

An incredible debut album of abstract electronica from Montreal artist Cecilia. I first heard of her from her contributions to last years Rabit album, a collaboration that couldn't have been more perfect when one hears her solo music. A wonderland of abstract forms, with hints of rhythm and a sprinkling of beats, teasing, hinting at a club background, but never succumbing to mere quantisation and repetition. The voice is the central focus - spoken, sung, whispered, processed - and everything else is there to support it, but not with a pop song instrumental hierarchy, the soundscapes and voice co-mingle and become one, and often are one and the same. There's also so much space on the album, it's immersive and completely amazing.

Favourite tracks: Gros Animal, Récital (Where Your Money Ends), Teen Poise.

31. SUMAC - Love In Shadow

An album of four epic tracks, crunchy, pounding, and exploratory. Each track could almost be broken up into three or four tunes, but I really like how the group have chosen to frame these sections under the one title, which makes listening a different experience. It's all out brutal at the opening moment, and Aaron Turner sounds as perfect as ever vocally (one of my favourite low growls of all time, but also pushing his range out there a bit in the later tracks). The record moves from fast, to thundering breakdowns, to impending doom, but also allows some space, with some warmth and introspective nuances. It's just great to hear a band like this come out with so much solid material in a year. Sick riffs and epic volume!

Favourite tracks: Arcing Silver, The Task.

32. Idels - Joy As An Act Of Resistance

Idles debut album blew my mind. Such a powerful band, with great lyrics, a real return to meaningful anti-establishment, working class punk rock. I was shocked that they followed it up so quickly, and yet, so glad. On the whole, where Brutalism felt really live and full of enthusiasm, Joy feels more stripped back and reflective. The opener, Colossus is so different to anything I would have expected from them, yet it's such a perfect track and it's a great revelation great how deep the groups music can go. June is a real tearjerker, a tragic song about being an expecting parent, it breaks up the angry tunes and grounds it in a personal reality that is so starkly honest it hurts. There's so much rocking good music on here. Idles are one of the smartest bands around right now, and they are going to change shit.

Favourite tracks: Colossus, June, Samaritans.

33. Paul de Jong - You Fucken Sucker

I was a big fan of The Books back in day, and in the years since, although enjoying Nick Zammuto's new direction, I often wondered about Paul de Jong and what he might be up to/working on but just never realised he had started releasing new music. Alas, this year he released this amazing collection, very much still aligned with his found sound/collage experiments from the Books days, still mashing up genre and playing with elements in a seemingly intuitive and playful way, but this album seems to be a bit spiteful, and kind of rebellious and raging in a kind of Dada way. It's angry but with a sense of humour. Lots of sounds to explore here. I recommend you do.

Favourite tracks: Doings, Dimples, You Fucken Sucker.

34. Uboa - The Sky May Be.

A contender for the title of most downright intense performer in Australian music right now, Xandra Metcalfe, aka Uboa has produced a thrilling, confronting, disturbing, and otherwise exhilarating new record. Uboa's mix of harsh noise and melodic ambient warmth makes for an album that constantly surprises and brutalises, drawing the listener in with gorgeous passages of abstracted yet recognisably sublime musicality, and moving into complete onslaught mode, delivering the ol' 1, 2 combo with an avalanche of sonic detritus and more than a lung full of blood curdling screams. The arrangements are immaculate as is the production, and the overall album structure is quite the epic journey.

Favourite tracks: I Can't Love Anymore, The Sky May Be (Dementia), Salivate on Cue.

35. Thom Yorke - Suspiria

This remake of a cult classic film worked for me on so many levels. The team really delved into the world that Argento created to make a phenomenal reworking, and they ran with so many creative liberties that it was a powerfully artistic work that stands on its own. And then there's Thom Yorke's score, which I really enjoy as a soundtrack album, but I feel was the main thing that weakened the film. The music here, Yorke's first full feature score, is mostly awesome, and the inclusion of songs among the horror tropes is cool. I'm also really glad that Yorke avoided trying to do a Goblin ripoff, although he probably could have made that work (National Anthem/Pulled Apart by Horses both come to mind as bass riffs that show he knows how to get shit rocking). Overall, I enjoy the material on here, and it show's Thom has an interesting future in cinema ahead of him, but in the film, there were some parts that didn't quite land, and that's a shame. Still, there's enough here to enjoy without the film attached.

Favourite tracks: Olga's Destruction (Volk tape), Volk, Has Ended.

36. Klein - CC

Klein essentially takes the worlds and tropes of "urban" and "beats" and destroys them. It's the ultimate abstraction of mainstream music processes. You can hear all the elements - the beats and the raps, the samples etc - but they don't fit together how you are used to. Their earlier release Tommy was a wild ride and a mesmerising introduction to the artists work (check that out too), and to follow that up, CC develops the process of abstraction and genre deconstruction even further. I'm not sure if it's more listenable or more interesting or if I'm just acclimatising, but I like it.

Favourite tracks: Collect, Born, Apologise.

37. Erik Griswold - Yokohama Flowers

I've loved Griswold's previous albums of prepared piano music, and this is no different. The music is gorgeous, simple, moving. But something about the preparations also makes it feel exciting and foreign, and maybe a little eccentric and broken down which is a quality I really like. Each composition is a little slice of perfection, and the album is a really enjoyable treat to sit with, or to have playing in the background.

Favourite tracks: Fallingwater, Ball-peen Hammer, Color Wheel.

38. Cucina Povera – Hilja

The debut album from Finnish born, Glasgow based artist Maria Rossi aka Cucina Povera is a box of curiosities, like the sort of songs you would remember from a dream, but be unable to articulate as you started focusing your memory. Features sublime minimal synths and atmospheric field recordings, and a verstile vocal style, that overlaps and loops and interplays with itself. Like something from a Lynch film, Hilja is mystereous and beautiful, and quality music.

Favourite tracks: Demetra, Avainsana, Totean

39. Colin Stetson – Hereditary

Thoughts on the movie aside (I liked it) Stetson comes at the film score with all his strengths and his experimental spirit to make an incredible piece of suspense and horror. The circular breathing saxophone riffs create a suffocating, traumatic feeling, that works brilliantly in the film, and as a general listening experience, the way the soundtrack album is structured, it works as a suspenseful journey too.

Favourite tracks: Funeral, Party, Crash

40. Oneida - Romance

Generally a diverse yet focused group, Oneida tend to oscillate between the extremes of minimalism and all out noise/experimental expansive maximalism. For example, my first experience of them was the brilliant repetition based album Absolute II, 4 very minimal tracks that are still favourites to this day. After that, their release A List of the Burning Mountains was an all out sound exploration, with very little repetition, and much more improvisation. Romance somehow brings the best of both these personalities of the group's musical character into a kind of balance. Excellent repetitive riffs and sounds underpin some more adventurous playing, and exploratory songwriting, and it makes for an exciting yet hypnotic album.

Favourite tracks: Bad Habit, Reputation.

41. Beak> - >>>

Although previous Beak> releases have been much darker, moodier, and more minimal, I feel like they have been cultivating and moving towards this unique, analogue progressive style all along with very precise steps. Although the band line up has changed since the last record, the same influences are still strongly at play, and the band have never been shy about where they've come from. However, this album feels a bit more celebratory, reveling in the process, and being more adventurous with the context, and it makes it feel fresh. I think Barrow's drumming is the best I've heard him, and the vocals are really strong on this album.

Favourite tracks: Birthday Suit, Harvester.

42. CUTS - A Gradual Decline

I first heard CUTS on the Ex Machina OST, and was anticipating more instantly. What we got here was not exactly what I anticipated, but is excellent none the less. One of the few beat/metric based electronic albums i've enjoyed this year, A Gradual Decline uses the degradation of sound as analogy for the decline of civilisation and environmental stability. It's beautiful but also represents something very bleak in a fragile way.

Favourite tracks: Pollen, Maboroshi, From Here to Nowhere.

43. Rabit - Life After Death

I was a massive fan of Rabit's last album and this album is very different. There's some similar types of abstraction and mutilated forms going on, but the sonic palette is different. I think it's cool when artists branch out and avoid repeating themselves, and Rabit has done that here. The sounds are often dark and mysterious, and I love the nightmarish, dreamscape type approach to form, and the disjointed relationship with genre, which is surrealistic verging on cinematic. Rabit is developing an important part of the new school electronic experimental scene for sure.

Favourite tracks: III, Blue Death.

44. Liars - Titles With the Word Fountain

As a follow up to last year's Theme From Cry Fountain, Angus Andrew's now solo version of the band Liars dropped a much more experimental companion album this year. The version I got is actually both albums together, and it makes for an interesting new take on what wasn't really that much of a favourite last year. The new material is abstract. Yet I feel like Liars is always going to be a an entity I will get confused by, whilst simultaneously excited about, especially now it seems that Andrew has gone through the existential anguish of being left at the proverbial alter. Musically, this album has a lot of sound experiments, and noisy sample based electronic beat stuff, with synths and the usual Liars attitude. It's not the most consistent album concept from Liars, but there's still good stuff going on.

Favourite tracks: Murdrum, Face in Ski Mask Bodies to the Wind, Extracts from Seated Sequence.

45. Sons of Kemet – Your Queen Is a Reptile

This album delivers an intense distillation of African music styles, all defiantly aimed like a weapon at colonialism, and celebrating women of colour in the process. The whole thing is led by saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings, who always brings a big concept together with finesse and soul, and this is no exception. The double drummer flavour really drives home the point with intensity, while the use of tuba as the bass instrument adds a hint of New Orleans to the arrangements at times. The stripped back instrumentation is also really interesting, with no harmony instrument, the melody and rhythmic energy carry it alone. I especially like the first and last track with the fierce spoken word sections.

Favourite track: My Queen Is Doreen Lawrence.

46. Oneohtrix Point Never – Age Of

OPN delivers a pretty mixed bag on this one, and not always successfully, but the high points are pretty outrageous. Despite the utter dud that is Babylon, for the most part the vocal fx on the album work well. Although I generally cringe at this much autotune, it's used to great effect on Black Snow, which is a stand out track. Warning and RayCats are also awesome tracks, with really great textural experiments and subtle melodic sensibilities, while Same is some kind of weird 80s pop nostalgia monster, coming completely out of nowhere. OPN is never restrained, and drops some brutal noise and metal in over the top of pretty passages in sudden sporadic bursts, keeping you questioning what album you're really listening to. The whole thing plays out like an acid tripped memory of a music festival.

Favourtie tracks: Black Snow, Warning, RayCats

47. Dustin Wong + Takako Minekawa + Good Willsmith – Exit Future Heart

A collaborative improvised excursion into the joyous unknown. Blending the playful and whimsical nature of Wong and Minekawa (who's album last year "Are Euphoria" was a top favourite) with some moodier abstractions from the Chicago trio Good Willsmith's end, striking an curious balance and keeping things interesting along the way. It's certainly a delightful and intimate listen, very giving and honest musical expression, and very cool sounds.

Favourite tracks: The Garden of Earthly Flanger, Plastic Skin, Gikanjoumonogatari.

48. Örvar Smárason – Light Is Liquid

Founding member of múm and instrumental maestro, Örvar Smárason has crafted a really great down-tempo pop record, that has all of the charm of his band's previous work, adding in some really psychedelic type electronic flavours to extend the curiosity and keep it interesting. There is some cool use of vocoders, and the guest vocals are real highlights - JFDR sounds great on Tiny Moon. Admittedly, on the surface this seemed a little generic at first, but I found myself needing it in my life more and more. It's going to be a great backyard chill out summer record.

Favourite tracks: The Duality Paradox, Tiny Moon.

49. Vanessa Tomlinson - The Space Inside

One of my favourite live performances of recent times was seeing Vanessa Tomlinson at Make it Up Club totally own the room with only a set of hi hats. On this album, Vanessa presents two pieces that each explore a single instrument, one is the concert bass drum, the other the tam tam. The music is powerful, and like that afoementioned night, the power of Vanessa's performance owns the space. The music transcends the expected ideas of rhythm and meter that might be anticipated of a percussion album, and becomes pure phenomenon.

Favourite track: There are only 2, and they need your full attention.

50. Gyda - Evolution

I saw Gyda Valtysdottir perform a few years back, and was absolutely captivated by her cello playing. On Evolution, the cello is only half of the hypnosis. Her voice, ranging from the fragile and delicate sensitivity that the vocals from her old band múm were known for, to much more confident and playful expressions of musical experimentation, is the real feature. It’s such a beautiful release, elegant music, that stops just short of potential tweeness to open towards new possibilities.

Favourite Tracks: Nothing More, Kind Human, Unborn.

Honorable Mentions:

These albums came into my life right at the end of the year, and I think I would have written this list differently if I had heard them earlier. I chose to add them this way because I had already selected the list and begun writing/posting it. That all said, I've been loving these records in the last few weeks. I won't go into it in depth, because I'm still soaking them up, but rest assured they are great.

Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want. It's heavy and abstract, i love the lazy vocal style and the urgency of the drumming. Fucking great.

Low - Double Negative Absolutely sweet vocal styles on this one, with excellent and surprising use of fx. I also love the crunchy production. Really gets under your skin.

The Caretaker - Stages 4 and 5. One of the deepest and most ambitious ambient (for lack of a better term...) projects continues, and it's an epic listening journey. Definitely not for relaxation.

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un-nmd · 7 years

Text

Recent listening—

The Mothers of Invention, Weasles Ripped My Flesh (1970) Strikes a somewhat psychotic balance between the whimsy of a Ween and the all-out avant of a Beefheart. The musicianship’s all there lest you fear that Zappa’s noisy conundrums were meant to hide a lack thereof—his magic band equivalents are able to don ‘general public’ masks and jam away just like any contemporary fellow, as they do on “Directly From My Heart To You” and “My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama” (note the electric violin on the former). But to those with ears of gentle predisposition: beware, and don’t be fooled, for the joke’s on you. The visceral beasts behind those vaguely satirical eye-holes are let loose more often than they’re contained. Take the two characteristic collages, “Didja Get Any Onya?” and “Prelude To The Afternoon Of A Sexually Aroused Gas Mask”: chaos, yes, but ritualistic chaos; Zappa, wielder of the wild. The sheer number of ideas, themes, and allusions introduced and just as quickly passed over in the space of, for each, less than four minutes, is nauseatingly impressive. E.g. about halfway through the latter, whose title suggests Debussy’s own ...d’un faune, some Satanic call and response gives way to the distant strains of the second subject of the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique, over which some madman projects an uncanny valley imitation of a big cat growling—then final tremors from kit and a deep down electric rumbling to close. And if you thought music was one-dimensional (audio, you could argue, perhaps is) wait till you hear Zappa break the fourth wall on “Toads Of The Short Forest” which itself ends on a parodic consonance that’s rich with the same commercial irony of the album’s parting words— “Goodnight, boys and girls”—which follow one and a half minutes of some of the harshest noise you’ll ever hear. If you thought Penderecki was aggressive listen to this and reconsider.

Various artists, Planetarium (2017) You would think that with the extra personnel Sufjan would be somewhat protected from the subsuming ambition that fed Illinois and Adz to over an hour each—or that he’d personally outgrown it, as these mature words here would suggest:

A lot of those flourishes and gestures and aesthetic wanderings on earlier records were smoke and mirrors, a lot of obfuscation that were probably the result of me feeling either inadequate or feeling coy. There’s a lot of role playing and constructing facades.

But the 76-minute run-time indicates otherwise. Perhaps it’s the subject matter. These four gentlemen’s ode to the cosmos is as much about space as it is about substance—by which I mean: aside from the planet portraits they also craft sonic voids to match that of the great vacuum, and call it ‘ambient music’ so its justifiable. Is Muhly to blame? If so, its at least theoretically intriguing for its marriage of post-minimalism and popular music. It makes for dull listening though. You accept it the first couple of times but there’s no way I’m sitting through “Sun” or “Tides” or the “Moon” coda for a third or further. However with “Black Energy” the suspended dissonances are at least something for the ear to work on, and “Halley’s Comet” and “Black Hole” are short enough to accept as outros/intros to tracks preceding/following, with the latter also being interesting for its similarity to certain parts of Badalamenti’s score to Fire Walk With Me. But of the actual songs?—“Jupiter” and “Mars” quickly go from overwhelming to simply overcrafted. Likewise “Earth” is overcome by temporal grandeur, but it is defensible in the same way that the Mahler symphonies are, i.e. gushing Romanticism kills itself yet in doing so also transcends itself. “Pluto” and its interstellar string line provide the appropriate sappiness required of a work named Planetarium. The real gems, however, are “Neptune”, “Uranus”, “Saturn”, and “Mercury”—is it any coincidence that these are also the most Sufjan-esque?

John Coltrane, The Olatunji Concert (1967) This was all the Gods could muster: a cheap, dingy mic, a 30-sec intro, time for two jams with the latter cut off before the final hit—there the master laid down his pen. Like J.S. centuries ago it was, fittingly, on his signature move. Did he know it would be his last live recording? The notion would at least have been entertained as by then he was probably well into the throes of the cirrhosis that would eventually take him. Trane’s apocalyptic final will and testament, the culmination—if only chronologically—of a lifetime’s innovation, comes at you through an otherworldly haze, through cigarette smoke and spirit vapours, through half a century (exactly) of sonic decomposition of tapes that were at a poor enough quality to begin with. All that’s pretty is shed away, left behind for the blind and the shallow to fuck with. This is the primal essence. Trane, on the precipice, delivers a performance of catastrophic immensity. This was no Mahler 9, no sweet surrender—with one foot in the grave he raged.

Deep Puddle Dynamics, The Taste of Rain... Why Kneel? (1999) And re-calibrate again for the emcees in this realm require of the listener a completely different approach. Here the gamut of receptors is tuned less to harmony, instrumental skill, or ‘compositional rigour’ (in the Western art sense), and more to verse, cadence, dialect, timbre, rhythm, and so forth—it’s only empty if you ain’t looking hard enough. And four voices means there’s plenty of variety to go round. The interplay between the distinct bodies to their voices makes them stronger as a unit, à la Tribe preceding. E.g. I don’t think I could handle an entire full-length full of Doseone’s nasal delivery but on this the other three contextualise the texture space he resides in so that his grating-ness means something. (See his entry on “The Scarecrow Speaks”.) Another point of difference between this and the records surrounding: I’ve had genius.com open for probably half my listens. The pace, density, and abstraction of the ideas expounded deserve more comprehension than a fleeting ear’s able to discern; the work is the word, mostly, so read the libretto. We open with Slug: “Descending on the centre / from the outskirts of obscurity”. An apt heads up for such is how you approach the meaning to these tracks, most of which exceed five minutes. Within them the majority of time is spent dealing in Impressionistic strokes of free-verse, free-associative syllables strung streaming out to the potent symbology of, say, a candle flame (as on “The Candle”) or the psychological landscape of a peeling ceiling (as on “Heavy Ceiling”—distant progenitor to Courtney Barnett’s “An Illustration of Loneliness”). However at times a rhyme catalyses the crystallisation of these supersaturated abstractions—here’s Sole towards the end of “Thought vs. Action”:

Man, I once had an idea but it didn’t get me anywhere Read The Art of War when I should have been out fighting Why is it the mass is unexposed to so-called great thinkers until they die? And why do they live in fear Of the fighters afraid to leave their insides?

But wait! Don’t forget ‘compositional rigour’ just yet as a certain hook on the track just discussed, the chant chucking nouns at each crotchet (“catalyst, cataclysm, fallacy, fortitude, medulla...”), appears also on “Deep Puddle Theme Song” and “June 26th, 1998”, albeit with different words, and as different answers to different questions. And formwise you’ve got the partition between the ‘98 tracks and those from June 26th, 1999. There’s a palpable maturation from the former to the latter. In the year of ‘98 they had more answers than questions—see the noun chant above, see the youthful arrogance on “The Scarecrow Speaks” and “I Am Hip Hop (Move the Crowd)”. And even the cynicism that closes #1 has with it a little bit of nihilistic tongue-in-cheek. One year on and they’re a lot more tired of the world. That sly grin’s nowhere to be found on lines like these...

How is it I’m motivated to endure Eight hours of pure unadulterated boredom? Then sit in front of another computer for Four more hours using the same old drum set Trying different loops, can’t find one to fit Maybe this is why I sit in front of a pad of paper, pen in hand with a blank mind And I ask myself Is the writer’s slump the best form of meditation? Rhetorical, don’t have an answer And I also don’t expect one.

...and all that’s left is a deathly wit...

It ain't all love, it's confusion and a waste of time It ain't all time, it's confusion and a waste of love It ain't all waste, it's confusion and some time to love It ain't all confusion, it's love and some time to waste It ain't all that It's all of the above So scared into this And you are And you wonder from the shores how deep the puddle is.

...borne of the same fin-de-siècle dread that fed Radiohead’s OK Computer.

Alvvays, s/t (2014) Music that’s dense and complex and meticulous will never be difficult to write about, or, for some, even to listen to, because there’s always the task of ascribing theory to composition to hide in. Such an approach, however, can neglect what you might say to be the primary purpose of music: evoking a meaningful emotional response in the listener. This, to trained ears, can be tempered by knowledge and understanding of the underlying theory, but for the most part it is governed by right-brain perception; that is, the Dionysian response as opposed to the Apollonian. For example: I could write about how on “Dives” you can developmentally derive the verse theme from the prelude’s sinister synth line, or about the 3/2 bars on the refrain to the same and how Molly’s melody overlays a 6/4 structure in a sort of inverse hemiola to the colossal opening of Brahms’s 3rd—or, instead, I could write about the sweet, sweet ache I am immediately plunged into upon the first words to the first song (”How / Do I get close to you? / Even if you don’t notice / As I admire you / On the subway”), or the simultaneous melancholy of lyric and uplift of melody on the chorus to “Archie, Marry Me”, or the crack in my heart that accompanies, every time, Molly’s crack up to that high note on “Ones Who Love You”, that velvet vowel vocalise that’s recalled, in spirit, on the final seconds of their latest single when she, unexpectedly, epiphanically, goes up the register to a transcendent 5th scale degree falling to the major 3rd on what itself is a 6-3 on the I, i.e. a first inversion founded on yet another radiant, overtone-heavy 3rd. Point being, who really cares about the details when all you can think about is that it’s making you soar, or in some cases, sore (in the chest).

#planetarium #frank zappa #the mothers of invention #john coltrane #deep puddle dynamics #alvvays

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