#especially around hollow mind era when it really peaked

[they-call-me-haiku]

i hate the whole "the show was cancelled" excuse that toh fans constantly use to justify poor writing choices. i'm as upset as anyone that toh was cut short, but the show writers got an advantage that a lot of other shows didn't. they were allowed to actually end the show. look at infinity train, for example. it had more seasons planned but the execs decided to cancel it without even giving the creators time to write a proper ending.

so in that case, the writers of toh should consider themselves lucky and make do with what they have. of course, it's most ideal to have the freedom to write the entire show how you want. but when you can't do that but you're allowed to give the series a proper resolution, you have to pick and choose what plot points to focus on.

instead of focusing on the important arcs and plot points (belos's backstory, the collector's origin, hunter's arc, etc) the writers decided to add completely unnecessary ships and additions to further complicate the plot. i'll say it: huntlow was unnecessary, the whole hexside and kikimora thing in s3e2 was unnecessary, the collector's rushed redemption arc was unnecessary. in fact, some of these decisions actively affected the ongoing plot badly (huntlow ruining hunter's arc and bringing him back to square one).

in the end, you're left with more questions than answers. what's with the collector's sudden switch from evil and calculating to poor innocent uwu child? what actually happened in belos's past? how did hunter move on from his trauma without getting any closure and being paired with a person who acts a lot like his controlling uncle? why did amity forgive luz so quickly for lying to her after she asked her not to? what happened to all the witches and citizens of the demon realm who actually followed and worshipped belos?

so yeah, you really can't defend toh with this excuse. if i was making a show and was forced to cut it short, i'd be angry and upset, sure. but i'd try to make the best of it. i would focus on the main plot instead of going after side characters or ships that add nothing of importance to the plot. i still like this show a lot but i'm not going to blindly defend it. it has its flaws and they need to be critiqued.

#toh criticism #toh critical #toh salt #toh discourse #anti huntlow #anti huntl0w #huntl0w negative #i had high hopes for this show i really did #especially around hollow mind era when it really peaked #i was so hyped about belos and how complex he was #but then they scrapped all of the religious trauma in the finale and was like “nah he's pure evil just murder his ass” #i'm not saying i wanted a belos redemption #but his arc was so disappointing #he may not be forgivable but he was a sympathetic character #the reason i loved belos so much in s2 was because of how interesting and well-written he was #they really had to go and ruin that

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: The Way I Loved You (Angst with Happy Ending, SFW Scenario)

Warnings: Angst with Happy Ending, Toxic Relationship, Arguing, Screaming, Fighting, Kissing in the Rain (lmao), Mild Mysoginy (since this is set in the Taishō Era)

Note: It feels so good to have written this down. Please don’t be too harsh on this piece, as I’m still not in the best condition. I just couldn’t resist not writing it down immediately. 😅💖

***

The wedding was beautiful. At least, it was supposed to be.

It was going to be the wedding of the year— according to all of (Y/n)’s relatives; especially her mother. They parroted those words over and over, until she was so sick to her stomach from having to hear it get dragged out over and over.

The wedding that (Y/n) was planning was supposed to be a big one; after all, it was her dream wedding, to her dream husband. He was so perfect, so incredible— he even got along with the most unhospitable of (Y/n)’s relatives.

Her husband-to-be was just that amazing. He was always there when it mattered, and even when it didn’t matter. She only needed to send him a letter to get him to come to her side. She couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

He was so unlike Kyōjurō.

The name sent a pang through her chest, tugging at her heartstrings in the worst of ways that left her a little teary eyed and shaky. Kyōjurō wasn’t like her betrothed at all, but she couldn’t help but still want him.

She was still so desperately in love with the Flame Hashira, that she had kept putting off her wedding— in the hopes that he would swoop in at the last second and take her away from there. Still, even after months of lying through her teeth about anything and everything that she can with regards to the wedding, she had finally given up.

Accepted that she had made the worst mistake of her life when she told Kyōjurō to never show his face to her again.

“I hate you! I hate everything about you! I hate that I let you hurt me like this; that I let you affect me this much!” She remembered screaming the words at him on the day that they had parted ways.

But, even though she tried to shake the memory away, it still played in her head. A painful memory that had her closing her eyes and rubbing the area just above her heart. “I hate that you’re never there for me! I don’t even see you, Kyōjurō! We’ve been together for years, but I’ve still yet to get a proposal from you! Am I just a good time to you? Someone not worth marrying? Because I gave everything to you, Kyōjurō; everything that would define me as a woman worth marrying.”

She didn’t know what Kyōjurō had been thinking about in that time, but it was obvious that he was also conflicted. Until he closed his eyes and sighed heavily; so heavily that (Y/n) felt her heart sink to her stomach.

It was a resigned sigh, and it told her everything that she needed to know.

So, instead of crying and begging him to marry her to preserve her dignity as a woman— as well as mend the broken fragments of her heart— she gritted her teeth and walked away from him. (Y/n) walked as fast as her feet could take her, biting back tears while on her way home.

And that was the day that she swore that she would forget all about him. Only, she never did.

The young woman hadn’t even realized that she was already crying; not until she felt the first warm tear land on the back of her hand. It shook her from her painful reverie, and had her quickly swiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling from her eyes.

“(Y/n), we’re going to have dinner with your husband soon. You should change,” (Y/n)’s mother chirped happily from outside her room, totally oblivious to the fact that her daughter was biting down on her bottom lip to silence the sobs that threatened to wrack through her body.

The action made her chest hurt, even when she hunched over and tried hugging herself— if only to keep herself together, when she felt like she was coming undone. She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore— the wedding of a lifetime with her dream man, or to be stuck in an endless cycle with the man she loved.

It hurt her to even think about it, to the point where she had slipped up and accidentally released her bottom lip. And that was the catalyst for all of the heartbroken and painful sobs that had her feeling so weak.

She couldn’t even breathe, let alone move from where she was. All that she could do was cry and heave, and silently call out for Kyōjurō.

But even that, she knew, wasn’t enough to get him back.

***

It was the end of the night, with (Y/n) having been the envy of every other woman at the restaurant. Men and women alike couldn’t resist turning their gazes over to her and her betrothed— but maybe it was mostly because of all of the scars that littered his body.

Sanemi was perfect for her; strong, serious, steadfast and— most of all— someone who could charm everyone with his manners and politeness. He just looked gruff on the outside, but (Y/n) couldn’t have asked for anyone better suited for her; someone who accepted her as she is.

He never made her wait, and never made her feel bad. Even when he was away on missions, he never failed to send her updates. He was everything that Kyōjurō wasn’t, yet he was also everything that (Y/n) realized that she didn’t really want.

She wanted those goofy, late night strolls with Kyōjurō, and having to wait for days for a five-page letter that was mostly apologies for forgetting to write. She wanted to feel so much again with the love of her life, instead of stewing in her hollow achievement with who is seemingly the perfect man.

A sad smile tugged up on the corners of (Y/n)’s lips as she tucked all of her things away. She was already ready for bed, but the memory of a smiling Kyōjurō as he helped her get on a stone bench played in her memory.

It was one of her most treasured moments, because it was the moment that she realized that she was truly in love with the blond.

He had wrapped his arms around her waist while she stood atop the bench, lifting her up and spinning her once just to elicit a quiet scream from her. He always had fun with joking around with her, that it had become a normal occurence for him to do it just to see the progression of her getting mad to her smiling at him as she called him a goofball.

Kyōjurō had never told her, but it was those moments— among so many more— that he treasured the most.

He loved her with his whole being, but the only problem was that he couldn’t fully commit himself to her; not when he wasn’t sure if his next mission was going to be his last.

He knew that he couldn’t do that to her; so, instead of tying her down to him, he chose to just let her go— even if it was the most painful thing that he’d ever had to do in his life.

That was why Kyōjurō didn’t know what he was doing outside (Y/n)’s house in the dead of the night, looking up at the window that he knew was hers— waiting for what, exactly, he didn’t know.

Maybe he was waiting for her to come out for him? To feel his presence like some lovers do, and just magically jump in his arms— as if he hadn’t hurt her before.

Kyōjurō wasn’t quite sure about his plan anymore. Especially since he remembered the look on her face when he chose to stay silent in the peak of her anger. He wanted nothing more than to tell her that he did love her, he just couldn’t hurt her more on the off chance that he died.

The Flame Hashira didn’t even know just how long he had been standing there— clearly trespassing— but he was past the point of caring. He just wanted even the smallest glimpse of her; one look and that would tide him over.

One glimpse of her and that would soothe his aching heart.

Kyōjurō felt something cold hit his cheek then; one tiny drop, that was then followed by more and more droplets— until he was standing under a torrential downpour. Yet he couldn’t care less about his dripping clothes, or his hair that was matted to his face.

All of that seemed trivial compared to the pain that he felt when he lost (Y/n).

The rain was pelting him harder than before, yet he still stood there— waiting right by her open window; hoping that she would take the time to even walk past it.

However, (Y/n) did more than what Kyōjurō was asking for. She went right up to her open window and had begun to close it, when she looked up and saw a figure that she would never forget in her lifetime.

Her hands froze right where they were holding on to the window, and her heart practically lurched in her chest before coming to an absolute standstill.

And, before she could process what she was doing, she already found herself rushing out the shoji and hastening towards Kyōjurō. She felt every possible emotion bubbling up within her, telling her to rage and scream at him— yet also telling her to pull him close and never let him go.

So, she did both.

She stopped right in front of a wide-eyed Kyōjurō and lifted her hand up— swinging it up to slap him across the face, before she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to finally kiss those lips that she had been missing for so long.

Kyōjurō didn’t even fight it; not getting mad at getting slapped, at the very least. He knew that he deserved that, and he also knew that he didn’t deserve (Y/n)’s kiss— yet he still found himself melting into her. His arms had even wrapped themselves around her; pulling her in against his chest as he savored the taste of her lips.

Both of them didn’t know how long they stood there beneath the downpour, so lost in each other that they paid no mind to the cold seeping into their skin. Everything else came second to each other, as both of them had been longing for that reunion.

Even when Kyōjurō pulled away and tucked a few strands of hair away from (Y/n)’s face, the only thing that he could do was lean down and kiss her again— all before hugging her as tight as he would allow him to.

And, before he could stop himself, he found the words rolling off his tongue and meshing in with the rain— yet also rising above the sounds of the world around them. “Run away with me.”

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku x reader

[racingtoaredlight]

Leo Fender, Les Paul and the Birth of the Solid-Body Electric Guitar Industry

Interesting timing on a number of fronts...chiefly being that a book about this very subject is being released shortly.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve really dove into all the various design details that Leo Fender engineered in the 1950′s, and my favorite parts have been talking about the designs in a historical context.  Design features like the foam mute on the P-Bass “ashtray” that helped combat issues with primitive amplification.

And while I’ve alluded to things like “there not being third party parts manufacturers at the time,” I never really touched on the industry in general.  Given that some of what I’ve written the past few weeks might be fresh in the memory, it’s a good time to look at the two titans of the guitar world, and how things came to be.

***

The top picture is the two most famous electric guitar models ever made.  On the left, a reissue 1957 Gibson Les Paul “Goldtop.”  On the right, a reissue 1957 Fender Stratocaster.  The bottom picture is the third most famous electric guitar model, an original 1952 Fender Telecaster.

Fun exercise time...I’m going to take every guitar player I mentioned in my Greatest Guitarist Series, and mark if they primarily played one of these three models.  I’m going to strike any classical musicians, (non-fusion) jazz musicians, acoustic-primary guitarists and guitarists who made their impact before the Korean War.

Jimi Hendrix STRAT Eddie Van Halen *MODIFIED STRAT SRV STRAT Andres Segovia John McLaughlin Jimmy Page LES PAUL Eric Clapton STRAT (also played Les Pauls) David Gilmour STRAT (has played all 3) Steve Vai Danny Gatton TELE (has played all 3) Julian Bream Chet Atkins Pat Metheny Duane Allman LES PAUL  Les Paul LES PAUL Ry Cooder STRAT (has played all 3) Yngwie Malmsteen STRAT Keith Richards TELE (has played all 3) Wes Montgomery Tony Iommi BB King Charlie Christian John Petrucci Prince TELE James Hetfield John Jorgenson TELE Chuck Berry (has played Les Pauls and Teles...famous for ES-335) Robert Johnson Steve Howe  (has played Les Pauls and Teles...famous for ES-175) Joe Pass Al DiMeola LES PAUL Django Reinhardt James Burton TELE Brian May Jerry Garcia (has played Strats and Les Pauls) Paco de Lucia Paul Gilbert Eric Johnson STRAT (has played all 3) Brent Mason TELE Shawn Lane  Muddy Waters TELE Buckethead Billy Gibbons LES PAUL (also plays Teles)  Slash LES PAUL Larry Carlton (has played all 3, but his nickname was Mr. 335) Frank Zappa STRAT (has also played Les Pauls) Christopher Parkening Marty Friedman Robben Ford TELE (has played all 3) Jeff Beck STRAT (has played all 3) Buddy Guy STRAT Lowell George STRAT Mark Knopfler STRAT (has played all 3) Ritchie Blackmore STRAT Elmore James LES PAUL John Lee Hooker Joe Satriani Woody Guthrie Hank Marvin STRAT Kirk Hammett Dimebag Darrell Jerry Reed TELE

That is a decent representative list of great guitar players, and those three models...the Fender Telecaster, Stratocaster and the Gibson Les Paul...account for the easy majority.  And even if a guitarist wasn’t known for one, they likely recorded with one at some point in their careers.

It’s easy to know where to attribute Fender’s success...Leo Fender was an engineering genius.  Gibson, however, had an established reputation long before they ventured into the solid-body world...but they wouldn’t have made that transition if not for Les Paul.

***

The State of Things Today

Before we get into the feud, it’s probably a good idea to get to know where each of these two companies are today.  The companies we’re going to talk about in 1952 bear little resemblance to each in the modern era, having both been passed from numerous ownership groups.

I’ve talked a lot about Leo Fender’s ouster at the hands of CBS...which led to the company’s darkest period which took more than a decade to dig out of.  CBS themselves were ousted by a group of Fender employees in 1985, and the company they started (they couldn’t use the original facilities) now boasts annual revenues well over $500 million.

It’s reflected by the company’s offerings.  Never attempting to be high-end our boutique, Fender’s brilliant branding allowed them to manufacture the same instruments that Leo designed, keeping costs low and making it easy to freshen up long-standing iconic models.

Gibson on the other hand, filed for bankruptcy last year.  Long derided for resting on the laurels of their name, Gibson is another victim of predatory private equity...being used merely as a conduit to acquire more debt.  Bad news intensifies...they’re also responsible for having strict international regulation regarding the types of wood used.  Gibson got in deep doo doo for using illegally farmed woods, and varieties of woods that had been prohibited from foresting due to excessive use (Brazilian rosewood).

Their offerings were staid and stale.  Any new innovations were seen by the guitar market as clumsy and hideous.  And, making things worse, the nature of their guitars’ construction is much more expensive and labor-intensive than Fender’s ever could be.

Fender will live to see the next 50 years.  Gibson likely will not...certainly not under this ownership group.

***

This is Les Paul holding his prototype solid-bodied electric guitar, nicknamed “The Log.”  Yes, it looks ridiculous.  No, another solid-bodied electric guitar did not exist at the time.

Les Paul had a longstanding relationship with Gibson.  Gibson was good to him.  Being a jazz guitarist, the whole Gibson lineup was perfect for Les, and they gave him ample ear to chew with all his (at the time) crazy ideas.  It was a great partnership.

Me being a Fender fanboy and my comments regarding their business should by no means suggest that I’m not a fan of Gibson guitars.  I absolutely love them, especially the Les Paul model.  They feel like the guitar version of driving a Cadillac...smooth, comfortable, refined, classy.

But, like I said above, Gibson was a long established company even in the late 1940′s.  They didn’t make gimmicks.  They made works of art out of the finest woods that produced these beautiful, natural, organic tones.  Even their electric hollow-body models replicated an acoustic tone as close as possible.  Philosophically, it was going to take something major to get Gibson to budge.

"If you don't do something, Fender is going to rule the world."

-Les Paul

***

When Les Paul received Leo Fender’s prototype in 1951, he knew what it meant.

Sure, it was a gift in the sense that Leo Fender wanted him to have that instrument, but it wasn’t just an instrument, it was an overture.  Gibson was a guitar behemoth that dominated an industry that was teetering on the edge of being revolutionized.  Fender was that metaphorical disruptor.  Both were already well aware of each other.

Fender wanted Les Paul on board, plain and simple.  They were hardly even a real company at that point, and getting someone of Les Paul’s status on their roster would be a coup of epic proportions.  From a marketing and branding perspective, Les Paul was a guitarist that could’ve established their brand before they even released a product catalog.

But that wasn’t it.

Les Paul’s reputation for having prototype solid-bodied guitars had created waves.  He was a recording maven, had a giant audience, and whether Gibson wanted him to or not, exposed people to the sounds possible with a solid-bodied guitar.  Leo Fender wasn’t a musician, but he was making the same type of noise within in the industry.

Fender sent out one of his right-hand men who reported back to him on the gift-giving.  That dude thought Les Paul was kind of an egotistical dude and didn’t think much of it.  Les Paul himself actually did like the instrument a lot...a huge amount given what he said to Gibson execs...and as the two guys who were leading the solid-bodied guitar revolution, there was equal parts kinship and rivalry.

*Les Paul with Leo Fender’s gift...a 1951 “Nocaster”...called that because Fender hadn’t come up with the name Telecaster yet, and there was no model under the Fender logo.

I don’t think it needs to be said that Les Paul ended up staying at Gibson.

***

In 1952, Gibson released their first solid-bodied model that had Les Paul’s name on it.  It would define their company.  Also in 1952, Leo Fender released the Telecaster (and Precision Bass), the genesis of the company that would grow into the largest guitar manufacturer in the world.

The sheer amount of music that’s been recorded using Les Pauls and Telecasters (as well as the Strat) is simply mind-boggling.  It’s almost impossible to quantify.

While the electric guitar industry might be well past the point of peaking, they’re still a major part of American culture.  Something that’s come to define us internationally as much as baseball or apple pie.  And it’s these three models from Fender and Gibson that so many people are able to instantly identify, that have recorded so much iconic music, that will live on well into the future like a Stradivarius violin or Steinway piano.

And for a brief period in the early 1950′s, it almost came to be that the two most prominent figures in the modern electric guitar world joined forces.  Almost.  It’s a shame they didn’t...might have been a good thing, given that each was given full creative control without the other’s presence...but the modern musical world was largely impacted by these two guys tinkering around in their basements.

It’s a cool story and easy to let your imagination run wild about what they could have done together.

#music #fender #gibson #leo fender #les paul #telecaster #stratocaster

[tinymixtapes]

Live Blog: Slowdive

Slowdive The Vic Theatre ; Chicago, IL [05-03-2017] by Adam Rothbarth on 05-11-2017 There are few opportunities for new cultural experiences today, but seeing Slowdive two days before they release their first album in 22 years is something; or, as a colleague of mine would say, it’s not nothing. 2017 is the year that Dave Chappelle, Blade Runner, Twin Peaks, and Luke Skywalker casually waltz back into our lives, and, as with any of these cultural phenomena, it’s worth asking why Slowdive, too, has come back to us at the turn of the tide. After a long odyssey in which I break up with the woman I had originally bought my second ticket for, and another woman flakes out on joining me for the show, I invite my friend Nate to go with me. These events, tempered by my knowledge of another ex having gotten married the past weekend, frame my experience of seeing Slowdive, whose music is scientifically constituted for extreme feelings of passion, loss, and despair. We meet up at my favorite bar in Chicago (s/o Local Option) and discuss the feasibility and limitations of certain Socialist Party campaign tactics. We have three heavy beers each and take a Lyft up to The Vic. Indie band Japanese Breakfast play first. A purple fog permeates the room, and the setting feels monochromatic, but in a good way. The band is dressed in dark tones, and all three guitarists have what appear to be white Stratocasters, though I will later find, when the lights change, that at least two of them are probably sea-foam green. Lead guitarist Michelle Zauner plays precisely and airily, offering smart riffs and a satisfying voice, which sounds sort of like Neko Case. The drummer plays on a transparent orange set. It is not my favorite music, but it is the right kind of music to open a Slowdive show. Japanese Breakfast stop and I talk to Nate about Slowdive. I tell him My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive are the two major protagonists of shoegaze, and that, contrary to most, I prefer Slowdive. The stage crew is putting out guitars and I remark that one of Rachel Goswell’s guitars — a semi-hollow body — looks awesome, but that I don’t know what it is. The nice man next to me wonders the same thing and looks it up on his phone. He tells me it is a Custom 77. I want one. It goes dark and Slowdive comes out. They enter to a Brian Eno track (I think) and then they start playing “Slomo” from their new album. It sounds good. We are in a reverie of guitars and fog, which is exactly what I had wanted, but they also are playing it safe. It is great, but not yet explosive. The second song is “Catch the Breeze” and the coda is where they really come alive: tsunamis of distortion crash up against each other amid blinding strobe lights and a backdrop of what seems to be 90s computer screensavers. Nate would later tell me one of the images was literally a screensaver from his high school-era Toshiba laptop. The music is loud as fuck. Slowdive are back, but what does it mean? The band seem to be in their element. The mustachioed Neil Halstead moodily proffers riff after riff, maintaining an air of stoic mystery. His playing is precise and enormous, his picked melodies often swelling to apocalyptic intensity, especially in new track “Star Roving” and classic jam “When The Sun Hits.” Goswell is the perfect counterpart, breezily strumming the guitar and shaking her tambourine with a smile. She is masterful in every sense, and cool and beautiful. I would do anything to drink a beer with her and talk about guitars. I would probably give her my social security number if she asked. Christian Savill conquers his Jazzmaster with an elegant calmness, while Nick Chaplin anchors the swells on bass, underscoring the instrument’s necessity precisely in the places that its impact would, in almost any other band, be subsumed into the wall of sound. The mix is excellent. The last song before the encore is a cover of “Golden Hair,” from Syd Barrett’s 1970 album The Madcap Laughs. There is a beautiful eeriness to Goswell’s delivery of the song’s 16 lines of text, and when she finishes, she glides off the stage, leaving the four men to play a marvelous outtro that lasts for around 10 minutes. The performance grasps the spirit of the band: their dignity, angst and tempestuousness; their magnificence. This isn’t high art, however, and it’s not avant-garde — it’s just a tremendous, shimmering grandeur to get lost in for 90 minutes. That’s enough for me, and it seems to be enough for Nate and some others at the show. This kind of music, especially in a live setting, is challenging. It tasks one with presence, forcing listeners to reconcile their mind with their physical being. It is hard on the ears and eyes, but if one is able to be still enough — quiet enough, open enough — it is a profound experience. There is a lot of anxiety in the crowd. People are pushing past me, dropping beers, and talking. Slowdive’s music is pensive, dreamy, and occasionally harsh, but it also is athletic and draining. Not everyone in the crowd is able to commit completely, but those that do are blown away. The next morning I will download a bootleg of their show from March 29 at London’s The Garage. I will listen to it while writing most of this review and drinking a $6 coffee served to me in a Dr. Seuss cup, and I will halfway pretend that the recording is from the show I saw. Then, I will meet up with TMT colleague Pat Beane over a breakfast burrito to talk about Tinder, sunbathing, Jersey Shore, union organizing, and, of course, Slowdive. After breakfast, Reckless Records will not sell me the vinyl of the new album because it doesn’t come out for one more day. Sometimes you don’t get what you want and things are sad. Other times, you have great fun with your friends. Life is short. Go to shows, eat burritos, find love, lose love, give your mind and body up to the noise. It is never too loud. http://j.mp/2r4qhPC