#tempo cindy speaks

[officialwagnerrant]

Wagnerrant Review #4 - Mishaps and Emotion

Work: Tannhäuser House: Bayerische Staatsoper Date of performance: 11.07.2021

Team Director: Romeo Castellucci Conductor: Asher Fish With: Georg Zeppenfeld, Klaus Florian Vogt, Simon Keenlyside, Dean Power, Andreas Bauer Kanabas, Ulrich Heß, Martin Snell, Lise Davidsen, Elena Pankratova, Sarah Gilford, Soloists of the Tölzer Knabenchor

Review: @dichterfuerstin

With Jonas Kaufmann’s Tristan debut right next to Anja Harteros’ Isolde debut (Watch the stream on staatsoper.tv, July 31st, 5PM CEST, it’s worth it), it’s hard to believe that the event I was looking forward to the most in the 2020/21 opera season was a performance of a four-year-old production that I’ve seen online before. But it was and so I did everything to get my hands on tickets for this season’s only performance of Tannhäuser at Bayerische Staatsoper. I cannot describe how happy I was when I got them and how sad I am now that it’s over. I hope that writing this review will help me revive those five hours at Bayerische Staatsoper – truly a special evening.

The best part of the entire production is the opening scene. Romeo Castellucci uses the fairly long overture and Venusberg music to visualise Tannhäuser being lured to Venus. A group of topless woman shoots arrows at a picture of a human eye, later the picture changes to that of a human ear, bewitching Tannhäuser’s senses until he gives in. A Tannhäuser-double walks on stage and climbs up the backdrop. This entire scene is choreographed flawlessly, every arrow compliments the music, and their placement on the backdrop is planned in a way where it works both for the picture of the eye and for the ear.

Castellucci did everything himself in this 2017 production of Tannhäuser. He directed, designed the sets, the costumes, and even the lighting. Solely the choreography by Cindy van Acker isn't his work. The result is a stunning unity of visuals on stage. It’s those that tell the story, not the characters. Elena Pankratova, who returned to the production to replace Daniela Sindram, pretty much only had to sit around as Venus, but she doesn’t have to move. It’s the mountain of flesh she’s sitting in, and the fact that both her and her lovers seem to melt away in fat and skin, that explains to the audience that Venus is a personification of both Lust and Gluttony. In act two, the singers could just stand in the wings to sing their lines. Not their acting tells us how they define love, but a single word written on a cube serving as altar and speaker’s desk at the same time. When Tannhäuser finally bursts out the confession that he’s been with Venus the words disappear and instead black colour gets spray-painted around in the cube. The black, forbidden aspect of Tannhäuser’s soul. The entire production gradually becomes blacker. While act one is even fairly colourful – fleshy pink for Venus, and bloody red for the Wartburg-knights’ costumes the deer they’re hunting, act two is white with only implied skin and nudity, though a lot of it, and act three is black until the curtain-call. This third act is the most impactful part of Castellucci’s production. It doesn’t raise nearly as much questions as act one and two – why do the knight’s costumes look like BDSM-fetish outfits? Why are there feet all over the stage during the Sängerkrieg? It shows the passage of time in the most impactful way. While more and more ridiculous numbers appear on the black screen – millions and millions and millions of year pass, the audience is shown the process of corpses rotting. And it’s not Tannhäuser’s and Elisabeth’s corpses, the names on the graves are those of the singers – Klaus and Lise. The message of this image? Tannhäuser and Elisabeth can’t be together in this timeline, but their story surpasses their lifetime. But no matter how powerful the imagery: Once again the singers do pretty much just stand and sit around while the stage speaks for them. Thus they can’t convince through their acting choices, but have to put everything into their voices.

And they do. Especially Georg Zeppenfeld convinces as Landgraf Hermann. He is probably the most reliable singer of our time, he doesn’t seem to have off-days. And as always he’s at his best in this performance. His voice carrying easily through the performance and singing a dignified, powerful Landgraf. And no matter what happens, he always remains calm.

The opposite of calm is obviously Tannhäuser. Klaus Florian Vogt debuted the role in this back in 2017 and hasn’t been replaced for even one year ever since. With good reason: His unusually light voice is a perfect fit for the sometimes too self-assured, sometimes insecure Tannhäuser. In addition to this, Vogt noticeably puts his whole soul into his performance, even though he apparently did not have the time to fully revise his, which led to a kind of sad “In ihr liegt in Maria” instead of the famous “Mein Heil liegt in Maria” and other mishaps. He makes up for his mess-ups by making his Tannhäuser especially emotional. He’s not afraid of letting a character’s emotions influence the sound and spices up the Romerzählung by singing with a different voice when quoting the pope, in comparison to when he’s just Tannhäuser. Lise Davidsen as Elisabeth is equally impressive. Having heard her as Sieglinde just some weeks before, I remembered her sometimes not being loud enough to get over a Wagnerian orchestra. This time however, she was in perfect form and every single one of her notes reached the audience, even the more quiet and scared lines in act three. I loved those especially. Davidsen dares to give her Elisabeth an insecure, questioning tone for “Sie sind’s” and “Sie kehren heim” and thus makes the audience really understand how much she fears Tannhäuser not coming back. With their voices harmonizing perfectly, with their acting skills, their creativity and emotion, Davidsen and Vogt make a great duo and we can only hope to hear them together in many more productions – next up is Die Walküre in Bayreuth.

The most impressive performance, however, delivers Simon Keenlyside as Wolfram von Eschenbach. Stepping in for another singer with just one day’s notice is hard, especially if this singer is Christian Gerhaher, munich’s favourite baritone. But Keenlyside, most well-known for his Mozart-interpretations mastered his unexpected Wagner-Challenge with ease. He acted as if he’d been rehearsing the production for weeks, and his big voice filled the Nationaltheater with ease, while always embracing Wolfram’s character. Not once he slipped into just singing his lines. Of course one could criticise that he never seemed to keep his hands still, unusual, when you’re used to Gerhaher’s interpretation of Wolfram von Eschenbach, but let’s be honest: This would be nothing more than beckmessering. Keenlyside is not the only one stepping in, though the others had about two weeks to prepare for their roles. Elena Pankratova, returning as Venus for Daniela Sindram, who was supposed to take over the role this season, and like Zeppenfeld and Vogt an original cast member in Castellucci’s production sings, as if she had planned to come back to Venus, her strong Soprano outshines the unflattering costume her director gave her.

Last but not least, Asher Fish conducted the performance for Simone Young. While it would have been nice to see a female conductor for diversity’s sake, opera is a world still very much dominated by men, one cannot complain about Fish’s conducting. He works out orchestra parts that are hardly noticeable, sometimes works them out too much, like when Tannhäuser is discovered by the Wartburg-society in act one he pronounces the more rhythmic parts so hard the music ends up sounding like traditional dance music you’d expect at German fairs. But just like Vogt seems to have finally found his libretto in act two, the conducting gets more balanced and with sensible dynamic- and tempo choices Fish gives the opera the amount of tragedy and sadness it needs, together with the mixture of euphoria and anger Tannhäuser’s descriptions of love in act two need.

Even if not everything went well – the choir could have been more balanced, the very first set change in act didn’t go as smoothly as it’s supposed to go, and not everyone knew their lines – the performance was touching, very nice to see, and fantastic to hear. I’m so glad to have been there, and cast and crew deserved all of the applause they got – certainly more than ten minutes of clapping and cheering.

#tannhäuser #wagnerrant review #richard wagner #not a rant #opera

[shadowhunterspolycule]

polycule dancing headcanons: simon

simon can dance in the sense that he's got the moves and the Ginga for sure, but he has a tendency to speed up and lose the music tempo. and eventually when he realizes that he kind of freezes up and loses his footing completely, and that's his biggest problem. especially because he's always super self aware, he's the kind that judges himself too hard even when he's just dancing alone in his room

so he's very nervous about trying to dance in pairs, because well... what if he speeds up and steps on their feet and just makes the whole thing a mess? and maia is like "stop worrying so much, we would just dance for fun, there won't be a panel of judges watching you" and raphael is like "nothing can be worse than me trying to dance as a fledging. you'll be alright, cariño", but it's actually meliorn who he feels more comfortable dancing with. if anything, because meliorn can't lie, so when they straight up tell him that it doesn't matter, well, he can't argue with that. but also because meliorn just has this... calming and centered presence that makes simon feel like maybe he can relax, just a little bit

so they try dancing and it's to no music because meliorn is just holding them like "let's just do what we like" and smiling softly at him and there's nothing for him to worry about, you know? just swaying in meliorn's arms and maybe he babbles a bit because he's nervous and meliorn always looks so in control and gorgeous and can definitely look like a star just swaying around in their sweatpants you know, and meliorn is like "it doesn't matter. right now, i'm dancing just for you" and simon is like "well, that's a waste. i can barely see what you're doing, you know, close like this" and they go "exactly. so let it go and just enjoy it" and simon does and it's sweet

raphael is probably the one he'd be the most intimidated by because raphael is a great dancer and also he just holds himself with So Much Poise. but rapha is just like "relax, cariño, just listen to the song. let it guide you. don't worry about anything else, much less other people watching" and closes his eyes softly and raphael is excellent at leading too (simon leading is kind of a disaster honestly, if anything because Anxiety) and he speaks a bit as they go and his voice is so soothing and steady and it kind of helps simon fall into a rhythm you know, especially when he goes, "there you go. just like this" and simon really feels himself relax and wow, it's really good. and then he says that out loud and raphael gives him such a private smile and says "you did great, simon" 

with maia it's less slow dancing and way more chaotic because they are dorks and they bring out each other's dorkiness like no one else. idk why but i keep picturing them dancing You're The One That I Want (you know, from grease) when it eventually comes up that they both not-so-secretly love this movie and they end up doing a rendition of the choreography because they're sweet like that. simon takes great joy in the shoulder shake. also maia is john travolta because again simon can't lead but most importantly because it's really fun to have simon do the bit where he pretends to be a bad boy like cindy does in the movie, you know, with the cigarette and stuff. maia greatly enjoys doing the "ciNdY???" dramatic thing as well as the "it's electrifying" part where she pretends to be struck by lightning. simon loves doing the shoulder shake and just lip syncing in general. it's definitely the most fun one and once it ends he eventually realizes that he didn't care how stupid he looked and he gives her that lopsided smile all like "oh, that was so easy" and she says "i thought it was amazing" very slowly as she leans in and kisses him softly 

bonus: him and clary totally dance sometimes, ever since they were kids. it's always terribly messy because clary isn't really a good dancer and they fall all over each other every time, but at least he can blame her this time

#simon lewis #saia #saphael #siliorn #shadowhunters #sh #clary & simon brotp #headcanon #fluff #dancing #humor #idiots in love #slow dancing #grease #simon and maia love musicals change my mind tbh #text

[sidereal-kindergarten]

Shadowed Mirrors, an update

Cindy doesn't believe in soulmates.

Actually, it has nothing to do with belief.

Cindy knows there's no such things as soulmates. She knows this, for sure, because she's dead, and dead people know these things.

There is, however, such a thing as soulfits. Another person that fits or would fit you like a glove, either because you are so similar, or vastly different.

When Cindy dies - really dies, like, for real this time - things have changed. She holds Jerome's and Lily's hands, for they're dead, and Cindy can't remember why she hated them in the first place. Lily smiles at her, and it seems Cindy's forgiven, for she never smiled like that when they were alive.

"Do you feel that?" a blond boy asks. He's holding Jerome's hand, along with another's - one with wild, fiery hair. "That pull?"

Cindy feels it.

"Yes," says Lily, her hair floating strangely in the air. She looks so serene. "What does it mean?"

A girl, holding Billy and the fiery-haired one's hand, smiles. "We have to choose."

"Choose?" says the boy with the hair. 

As he says it, a pool bleeds onto the ground before them, slippery and white and silver. It sparkles and shines like the diamonds in mom's ring used to, and Cindy breathes a sigh of awe.

"Choose," the girl repeats, releasing the others' hands before stepping forward, out of the ring and towards the pond. She tilts her head. "Ozzy? Yours is Ron, isn't it?"

The boy with the fierce hair blinks. "I - yes, it is, how did you know?"

The girl winks, and her eyes shine green. "I choose." She looks around, meeting everyone's gaze in turn. When she looks at Cindy, it's a struggle to look back. She feels… familiar.

She steps forward, into - onto - the pool. Her feet touch the surface, small and lithe. The glow of the liquid envelopes her, fades into her skin, and it burns. Only her eyes remain the same, and for a short moment another girl stands there - one Cindy had looked at from above a beak when everything hurt.

"Penny," breathes the blond boy, and the fiery-haired one - Ozzy - murmurs in agreement.

The girl, back to her other appearance, steps back. "You don't have to choose," she says, gaze sweeping. "But you should. If you can."

Lily steps forward. "I choose," she says, glow enveloping her, and Nugget flickers across her skin.

Cindy swallows. She feels it. She feels the pull. "I choose," she says and steps forward. It doesn't feel like a choice.

The glow covers her eyes, and she can't see except for that blinding white, and a brief, brief moment it burns like nothing's ever burned – but then it eases, and she steps back, and she feels him.

"I choose." The blond boy steps forward, straightening his red tie with only a moment's hesitation. Once the glow arrives, the only thing that changes is his shirt, and when it eases, he goes back to normal.

Ozzy stumbles onto the pool, and he doesn't have time to speak before the glow surrounds him and he flickers, then stumbles back. His hands are shaking.

Billy raises his chin. "I've chosen," he says, and Cindy notes the change. For a moment, Jay stands there, before them, looking so serene and solemn that Cindy's breath hitches.

All eyes fall on Jerome. "Foxy," says Lily, "she said you should…" Her eyes go wide. "I - sorry, I didn't…"

"It's okay. It's okay, that's still me, I can feel it," says Jerome. "I - I just don't…" He fiddles a bit with his shirt. "I don't know if…"

The girl from before gives him a kind smile. "It's alright. You can wait."

"No!" Jerome blurts. "I feel it, I feel the pull, I, just… don't know if she'll like me…"

Cindy, still holding his hand, squeezes once. She says nothing – doesn't even look at him, Jerome, who says he still feels Foxy the way she still feels Chica, the way Lily and Billy are still Bonnie and Freddy.

Jerome takes a deep breath. "I choose." He steps forward. A girl flashes in his place, hair long and reddish dark.

Everyone chose, in one way or another.

They fade.

*

In the years that follow, Cindy can't help but feel a bit relieved at who she chose. She doesn't have to endure Lily's pain at seeing Nugget choose her above everything else time and time again. She doesn't have to take Billy's constant pain at ghosting Jay, hovering over his shoulder like a terrified guardian. She doesn't have to live through Felix' pain of seeing the shell of his brother go through the motions, nor Maddison's exhaustion of ghosting someone who isn't quite fully human, nor Ozzy's anxiety being worsened by ghosting Ron, of all people.

Worst of all is probably Jerome, who ghosts Alice, someone who by mere proximity gets tangled into the mess that is Jay's life, and who never knew Jerome in life. Everyone else has someone who mourns them, or at the very least knew them. Alice hears of Jerome's death and doesn't even bat an eye.

Meanwhile, Cindy can go to the mirrors and watch him chatter away with a few dozen animals and the plants he can barely keep track of. She watches as he goes to therapy, watches as he cries, watches as he gets better, watches as he tips his head back into warm summer rain and smiles a genuine smile for the first time in weeks.

She watches, and watches, and watches. There's not much she can do, and at times he makes such stupid, idiotic choices that she spends hours cussing him out afterwards, but she always returns, and he always figures it out.

Cindy grows with him, her hair flowing longer and thicker, and she gets Lily to braid it – brave Lily, who watches Nugget almost endlessly, and hurts, and hurts, and hurts. Cindy grows taller and broader, and her voice deepens, but she doesn't change.

She isn't alive. She's very much dead. Jerome, who'd taken up whittling to pass the time, slipped, once, and drove a knife deep into her thigh. There was no blood and barely any pain. They were silent sometime after that, everyone treading cautiously around each other. They'd almost forgotten.

She isn't alive. None of them are. But when she watches him – when the smoke of the mirrors floats out into the room - into her – she's closer. She's close. Sometimes she can almost reach out and touch him. 

Felix keeps a book where he writes about Theodore – later, Ted. Lily holds no tome, but her secrets close to heart, and it takes a combined effort of everyone to get her to say why she worries so. Billy is frustrated and complains loudly to anyone who will listen about how much of a 'fucking moron Jay is, I swear, I'll kill him again when he gets here!'. Ozzy and Jerome stick together a lot, due to their people doing the same, and Maddison joins them, too. They'll talk about their people to any who ask but tend to keep their voices low.

Cindy doesn't write anything down, but she talks, and she talks, and she talks. Going to their shared space and yelling at the top of her lungs about her person is not uncommon, and the others groan but accept it with smiles. 

When she mulls it over in the darkness of the void, she figures they all need to smile more. It's not surprising; none of them are pleased. Maybe it's because their chosen halves are still out there. Maybe it's because they're dead. Maybe it's because they just don't work well together.

She doesn't know.

*

When Lily comes from the mirror room a few days later, bearing a relieved smile, her hair lighter than ever, Cindy asks no questions. She just hugs her, mutters, "It's about time," and goes on with her day.

*

Billy comes tearing into their shared space, hair ruffled and askew. He, like Jay, has not aged further than maybe thirty or forty years. He'd decided, long ago, that "I'll stick with him through thick and thin," which also, apparently, means that he'll age in his tempo. Cindy herself sticks to a nice thirty-two – she really did like how her hair looked that one day and had wanted to keep it.

"Guys!" Billy cries. "Nugget's dying!"

Jerome, sitting comfortably at fifty-three, looks up from trying to teach a sixty-three-year-old Ozzy how to use a JoJo. "What? Already?"

"It's his sixty-ninth birthday," Billy says.

"Ah," says Cindy, standing up. "That'd do it. Cancer kicking in, then?"

"Yes – come on! Lily's ecstatic!"

Ozzy pouts. "Unfair! I had my money on Ron."

"Too bad!" Billy returns. "Come on, he'll be arriving soon. Lily's gone to meet him!"

*

Lily, sixty-eight-years-old, helps a sixty-nine-year-old Nugget into their shared space. He doesn't look a day older than forty, he either.

The room erupts into cheers. "Who did you choose?" fifteen-year-old Maddison cries.

"Yeah! Who was it?"

"Did you feel the pull?"

"Who?"

Nugget blinks, his face splitting in a smile. "Billy!" he says. "Cindy! Jerome!" He laughs, a heartwarming laugh that curls through all of them. "Nugget has missed you. As for the pull – yes, Nugget felt it, but no, Nugget did not choose her."

Cindy blinks. It's not the first time someone chooses a different person than their pull – Maddison had chosen Penny, after all – but it's uncommon. "Who did you choose?" she asks, curious.

"Jay," says Nugget.

Billy whoops. "Welcome to the party, old man! He's a nightmare to keep up with!"

Nugget laughs. "Oh, Nugget knows! Nugget knows!"

*

Cindy knows when he's dying. She can feel it; the tightening around her ribs, the constrictions of her chest. It doesn't hurt, but she feels it, and she knows it's him, and she knows what it is.

She goes to meet him, at seventy-one, and she ages up to meet him at his own age, to not frighten or worry.

He blinks up at her, and she helps him sit up before doing anything else.

"I – Cindy?" he croaks, surprise, awe, wonder.

Cindy smiles. "Hello, Buggs."  

#shadowed mirrors #kindergarten #kindergarten 2 #kindergarten cindy #writing

[hafadirab1988-blog]

Congrats on leaving Younique. It can be really easy to fall for the company when you don know a lot about makeup. I don know if you know more about makeup now, or even if you looking to learn more about makeup, but Reddit has some awesome makeup communities with some lovely people who would love to help out if you have any questions or are looking for specific products. They showed him a photo Kowalski holding a groundhog in one hand and a bolt action rifle in the other. The rifle looked just like the murder weapon. And it was the biggest break in the case so far. "Otto's Parents, Fred and Cindy Warmbier, are with us tonight along with Otto's brother and sister, Austin and Greta," the president said. "You are powerful witnesses to a menace that threatens our world, and your strength inspires us all. "I am asking the Congress to address the fundamental flaws in the terrible Iran nuclear deal," he said. Personally I solidly in the rhythm category with you. 200bpm speedcore feels like a good tempo to me most of the time. But I have friends who are tonedeaf and mostly treat music as rhythmic poetry, and friends who can keep a beat for their life but like trance music for its airy feeling from the chord progressions. Sater longtime ties to Michael Cohen are not so much a coincidence as part of the fabric of the entire scandal. Cohen family owned El Caribe, which was a mob hangout for the Russian Mafia in Brooklyn. Cohen had ties to Ukrainian oligarchs through his in laws and his brother in laws. The odd thing is that the battery doesnt seem to be effecting the new ones at all. They charge up all together to sit at 13.1v and then sit at 13.1v for over a month without changing. When discharging in use on the inverter the old battery seems like its just not proving as much amps as the new ones.as far as charging, i meant they come to rest at 13v not charge at 13v. No one from the gg project is working on dbfz, a few secondary people like sekine are working on granblue, but ishiwatari, akira 논산출장샵 etc are working on a new guilty gear title. Last EVO they said ishiwatari is not present because he busy working on the new guilty gear, and that they don have anything to show at the time, please wait a bit more. Also since GG is a sunday game, I have pretty high expectations that they announce something.. This is actually the only reason I watch Kathleen. I once tried a pinky mauvey colourpop lipstick, I was promised it would look like my lips but better but it was freaking bright purple on me. I stumbled upon a Kathleen Lights colourpop lip swatch video and saw it was bright purple on her too, and now she's my go to person for colourpop swatches since I can't swatch them in store.. Another thing is many of them don't have the privilege of attending this school. Lafayette has a beautiful park (Colombian park) and the zoo. It's not much, but nice nonetheless and I am excited to visit it for the first time when it opens. That why i replied so extensively. I saw that poster and all those little things drove me nuts). I do hope the exhibit goes well!Also I wanna add to this that is what you make it. 논산출장샵 If we have one room left, I can also jack up the price, and my bosses will reward me for it. I have also jacked the price up just because I don like someone. Had some tweekers come in, every time they asked the price again, I raised it $10. One time I told my dad about sexual harassment I received from some elders, and he yelled at me and called me disrespectful and told me to never come to him again if I was going to be speaking disrespectfully about elders. My mom never passes up an opportunity to ridicule me. I used to justify their treatment of me but, honestly what the actual fuck?? I your DAUGHTER, how can you treat me like this? I feel nothing for them anymore, just really indifferent towards whatever happens.

[furtho]

Playlist 2017

Music posted on furtho.tumblr.com during 2017:

48 Chairs’ Snap It Around, spikily joyful new wave

ABC’s The Look Of Love (12″), classic early 80s extended remix

xAF Moebius’ Blau, minimal synth from 1980s East Germany

A-ha’s Soft Rains Of April (piano demo), exposing the inner workings of the gloomy pop gods

Akira Kosemura’s Luna, gentle piano arpeggios

Alex Kolobolis' Closure, lightly elegant, floating piano

Aline’s Elle M’Oubliera, icy cool Francophone indie

xAlliance’s At The Dawn, 1980s synthpop from the Soviet Union

Alligator’s Riviera, angular minimal wave from exciting new French duo

Analogue Dear’s Obrecht, haunting piano ballad 

Anna Meredith’s Honeyed Words, swoopy gloopy electronic drone

Aphex Twin’s Aisatsana [102], Satie pastiche of quiet piano patterns

Arsenic!’s Pure Ideology, ramshackle but heartfelt dreampop

Arvo Pärt’s Summa For Strings, poised, eternally unresolved modern classical minimalism  

Asuna’s Her Fringe, Ferris Wheel, Ruins Of Twisted Yarn, gently interweaving acoustic loops

Australian Testing Labs Inc’s Moto Moto, pulsing motorik tones, with suitably hypnotic video 

A Year In The Country’s A Measuring, fractured electronic sketch

Bachelorette’s Blanket, the warm embrace of analog synthpop

Beat Mark’s Flowers, sweet-but-scrunchy-chorded indie from France

Best Picture’s Isabelle, modern rock ‘n’ roll, huh

Blankscreen’s Dead Planet, gripping spoken-word post-punk

Blue Plutos’ Disagree, ecstatic Rickenbacker-driven janglepop

Brian Eno & Harold Budd’s An Arc Of Doves, ambient experimentalism shot through with warmth

Burning Hearts’ In My Garden, welcome return of the Finnish indie titans

Caroline Devine’s Driftspace, Space Ham, something for everyone: field recordings, radio experimentation and an interview with an astronaut

Casiotone For The Painfully Alone’s We Have Mice, bedroom pop supreme

Caught In The Wake Forever’s Under Blankets, super-slow evolving drone  

Chuck Johnson’s Balsams album, mystifyingly successful slide guitar meets ambient drone 

Chumbawamba’s You Can (Mass Trespass, 1932), acoustic paean to Benny Rothman and the Kinder Scout trespassers

Cindy & The Gidget Haters’ Pogoin’’s For Me, shoutily engaging homemade new wave

Closure’s Slow Drive, Motorama-esque doom-indie from Jakarta

CM-DX’s Radiophonic Reprographics, paean to the office photocopier

Colleen’s Your Heart Is So Loud, musical box rendered as looping, enchanting lo-fi ambient

Cosmic Ground’s The Watcher, long-form kosmische ambient

David Evans’ Suddenly Woken By The Sound Of Stillness album, field recording on the Trans-Siberian Railway

Deutsche Bank’s Zero Gravity, seamless post-Komputer synthpop 

dné's Asos Model Crush, homemade percussion coupled with delicious piano composition

Dominique Grange’s Les Nouveaux Partisans, Maoist folkpop from late 60s France

Echopet’s Strung, tightly organised short-form drone

epic45′s Monument (Isan remix), blissed-out synth remix

Even As We Speak’s Bizarre Love Triangle, charming jangly cover of the New Order classic

Fader’s Laundrette, bleak kitchen sink electronic ballad

Fieldhead’s Accents, contemplative modern electronics 

Foliage’s Dare, glossily frantic dreampop

Francisco The Man’s Take A Picture (Bodies In The Sun), driving Alvvays-esque indie rock

Freezepop’s Stakeout (Donnerschlag remix), Casiocore classic

Galaxians’ Out They Minds, super-catchy funky disco-house thang

Get Smart!’s Just For The Moment, dark-but-trebly post-Joy Division pop

Ghost And Tape’s Vár, spellbinding clack-and-crackle ambient

Good Shoes’ The Way My Heart Beats, fuzzed up Buzzcocks-y guitar pop

Greg Haines’ Azure, dramatic slow-build ambient 

Group A’s Initiation (Tom Furse remix), darkly relentless synthpop

Grouper’s Holding, hold-your-breath gorgeous lofi pianoism

Günter Schlienz’s Outer Corridors Of Space, light ambient arpeggios

Hakobune’s Airworthy, weightless drifting ambiance

Hand Of Stabs’ A Month Of Sundays, creepy improv weirdness from the back lanes of Kent

Hidden Rivers’ In And Out Of Days, light-of-touch chiming ambient

Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Green, supremely delicate ambient sketch 

Holden’s Ce Que Je Suis, melancholy francophone indie ballad

Huerco S’ A Sea Of Love, weightless electronic dreamscape

Iko’s Digital Delight, minimal wave from early 80s Canada

I Tpame I Tvrame’s There’s No Place To Call Home, hypnotic Albanian minimal synth

I’ve Lost’s ... And I Saw Her Again, Then She Was Gone, minimal ambient guitar drone

Jeff Parker’s Slight Freedom, extraordinary long-form guitar loop/improv/ambient

Jess Garon & The Desperadoes’ The Rain Fell Down, classic bittersweet indie jangle    

Jim’s Twenty-One’s Throwaway Friend, exhilaratingly ramshackle indie

Jóhann Jóhannsson’s The Cause Of Labour Is The Hope Of The World, socialist-inspired modern classical soundtrack  

John Cage’s In A Landscape, solo piano elegance

John Maus’ The Combine, characteristically doomy synthpop

July Skies’ See Britain By Train (Pevsner version), sepia-tinged ambient post-rock

Justin Hopper & Scanner’s Low-Tide Crow, under-stated poetry/ambient collaboration

Kero Kero Bonito’s Trampoline (St Etienne remix), infectious dubby reworking of the London-based J-poppers 

Kinder Meccano’s Atomic Energy Lab, playful arcade game-inspired experimentalism

Kirill Nikolai’s Dolly Dances, patterns of modern classical piano and strings

Kraftwerk’s Autobahn, extraordinary live performance on US TV in 1975

Letting Up Despite Great Faults’ Pageantry, driving oomph-laden electro indie

Liquid Liquid’s Cavern, much-sampled infectious post-punk rap

Look Blue Go Purple’s Cactus Cat, frantically-strummed love letter to a feline friend 

Lubomyr Melnik’s Butterfly (live in Copenhagen), constantly ebbing and flowing modern classical

Luke Howard's Digits, captivating blend of bleep and piano

xMachinone’s 火の雨, electronic chimes as gentle lullaby

Maraudeur’s Value The Death, gloomy minimal post-punk

Mark Fry’s Aeroplanes, elegant folk ballad 

Mechanical Cabaret’s 304 Holloway Road, synthpop commemoration of Joe Meek

Memory Drawings’ The Nearest Exit, creaking, creepy ambient folk

Mica Levi’s Love, synth strings drone from the soundtrack to Under The Skin

Middex’s Low Life, experimental minimalist noisepop

Milkmustache’s Submarine, dreamily aquatic janglepop, complete with memorable video

Mitra Mitra’s Indecisive Split Decision, minimal synthpop from Vienna

Morten Lauridsen’s O Magnum Mysterium, towering performance of the modern choral classic by the Los Angeles Master Chorale

Nonconnah’s I Hope Every Week Changes My Life (demo), uncharacteristically light ambient guitar drone from ex-Lost Trailers  

Norihito Suda’s Light Snowfall, beautifully judged drifting ambient 

Ø’s Twin Bleebs, ultra-minimal techno experimentation

Olivia Chaney’s Eternity, sensational acapella recording of Rimbaud’s poem put to music by Emily Hall

Ourselves The Elves’ Wounds, restrained, slow-paced indie jangle

Pale Spectres’ D[r]iving, infectiously uptempo janglepop

Parliamo’s Lucy, youthfully exuberant Scottish jangle

Percussions’ Digital Arpeggios, hypnotic long-form technopop

Peter Maxwell Davies’ Farewell To Stromness, modern classical hymn to Orkney 

Plinth’s Solicitude, chiming ambient electronics and piano

Polypores’ Deep Undergrowth, darkly pastoral drone

Pye Corner Audio’s Black Mist (long version), characteristically hauntological electronic pop

Relmic Statute’s Just A Thought, lo-fi electro-acoustic loops  

Rhythmus 23′s Guerra Fría, Cold War-inspired minimal wave from Mexico  

Robert Fripp’s Night 1: Urban Landscape, eerie ambient loops constructed with a Roland guitar synth

Rodney Cromwell’s Barry Was An Arms Dealer, bleakly infectious 80s-inspired synthpop

Roedelius’ Le Jardin, late 70s Berlin pastoralism

Ross Baker’s A Time After Computers (remixed by Cubus), experimental folktronic mix

Ruhe's Heritage, blissful long-form pastoralism

San Charbel’s Nacer Morir, laidback, homemade dreampop from Mexico

Sara Goes Pop’s Sexy Terrorist, bonkers 1980s agitpop

Sawako & Hayato Aoki’s The End Then Start Again mini-album, whispered field recordings and electroacoustics  

Seazoo’s Shoreline, urgent indiepop with a big grin

Secret Meadow’s Endlings, Smiths-a-like pop from Indonesia

Skylon’s Skylon, heartfelt hymn to the Festival Of Britain 

Sound Meccano & Jura Laiva’s Salty Wind And Inner Fire Part 1, spacious, airy electroacousticism

Spaceship’s The Imagined View, As Yet Unblighted, field recordings and drone from rural Kent

Spirit Fest’s Hitori Matsuri, charming bilingual down-tempo folk-pop 

St James Infirmary’s Terry Marriagehead, under-the-radar 1990 janglepop gem

Stealing Sheep’s Apparition (Pye Corner Audio remix), squelchily hypnotic electro reworking 

Susumu Yokota’s Tobiume, drifting beauty from the late Japanese electronica king  

Swoop And Cross’ 10439, epically restrained modern classical

Sylvain Chauveau’s Find What You Love And Let It Kill You, melodic ambient dronepop

Tangerine Dream’s Live At Coventry Cathedral, remarkable 1975 footage of the electro-hippies in action

Taylor Deupree’s Fenne, drifting, take-a-bath electro-acousticism

The Bats’ No Trace, more janglepop from the kings (and queen) of Kiwi indie

The BV’s Neon, lofi guitar overload dreampop

The Creation Factory’s Let Me Go, infectious garage rock, stuffed to the gills with 60s stylings

The Donkeys’ Four Letters, unapologetic new wave powerpop from 1979

The Foreign Resort’s Skyline/Decay, Cure-esque dreampop from Copenhagen

The Harvest Ministers’ You Do My World The World Of Good, long-lost video for lovelorn treat

The Hum Hums’ London, pleasingly brief, polished-but-trashy powerpop

The Inventors Of Aircraft’s No Returns, slowly looping ambient

The Leaf Library’s On An Ocean Of Greatness, meandering ambient pop, stuffed full of ideas

The Luxembourg Signal’s Blue Field, big open-hearted indie jangle

The Mascots’ Words Enough To Tell You, Swedish Merseybeat from the heart of 1965

The Mells’ McCallister, blistering-with-a-touch-of-gloss dreampop

The Memory Band’s Norfolk Before Dawn, spellbinding country field recording

The Names’ Life By The Sea, epic Belgian new wave

The Royal Landscaping Society’s Goodbye, beautifully constructed janglepop from Seville

The Starfires’ I Never Loved Her, er-yes-you-did-really 1960s garage rock

The Wake’s Firestone Tyres, sprightly post-post-punk from Glasgow legends

Thomas Dolby's Oceanea, he's-still-got-it ballad from steampunk pioneer 

Tobias Hellkvist’s Kaskelot (Segue remix), ethereal beats ‘n’ drones

Tomorrow Syndicate’s Okulomotor, kosmische pop musik from the heart of Mitteleuropa: Glasgow

Unhappybirthday’s Kraken, drum machine-driven indie from Germany 

Un Verano En Portugal’s Hielo, frantic, blurred dreampop

Vacant Stares’ Ennui, perfectly-titled doomy gloomy dreampop

Vanessa Rossetto’s Whole Stories album, field recordings and musique concrète from the city streets

Vansire’s Driftless, echoing, distant dreampop

Werner Karloff’s Views Of Movement, thrilling minimal wave from Mexico City 

When The Clouds’ The Dawn & The Embrace, managing to stand out even in the crowded category of Italian instrumental post-rock 

********

The playlist for 2016 is here. The playlist for 2015 is here. The playlist for 2014 is here. The playlist for 2013 is here.

#ambient #indie #indiepop #guitar #electronic #acoustic #playlist #drone #electroacoustic #synth #synthpop #electropop #minimal wave #janglepop

[goingknowherewastaken]

Windows

*there’s a better gif where it’s just his back, but it’s paced faster and the slower one here is less awkward looking to me*

*but look at those shoulders*

*the first time i saw this trailer i choked at this moment*

*...okay i’ll move onto the fic now*

Title: Windows

Fandom: Wonder Woman / DC

Relationship: Steve Trevor x Reader

Warnings: swearing, awkwardness, meet-cute at a Starbucks, insinuations of the sexual kind

Prompt: From dailyau : “You live in the apartment across from mine. You’re always walking around shirtless. That is so rude; who do you think you are?”

A/N: And here it is! Steve Trevor x Reader (modern!au) fic!! This was a lot of fun to write, but also a little challenging. Since the movie still has yet to come out and I’ve only seen so many of the comic panels with Steve, I’m still trying to get the hang of writing him :p Hopefully I did okay with writing him here 

Windows

It was never on purpose.

That’s what you always told yourself. 

You keep the blinds up and the curtains open to bring in the necessary light from outside. You like seeing the sky - what you can see of it - transform throughout the day. Sometimes birds swoop by and they catch your eye. Sometimes it’s other things that catch your eye.

So you don’t purposely look out your apartment’s living room windows at the building across the street. 

It’s not your fault that the building is right there. 

It’s not your fault that those three windows are right across from yours. 

It’s not your fault that those three windows are apart of an apartment owned by a goddamned Adonis.

And it certainly isn’t your fault that that goddamned Adonis walks around shirtless practically all the fucking time.

You clenched your jaw and stared blankly at your laptop, willing your eyes to read the displayed email. They were not going to stray to the man that has plagued your thoughts ever since he moved in six months ago. A man that you knew was currently home because it was eight at night on a Wednesday and he was always home at that time.

Not that you knew his schedule, per say. You were essentially neighbors and neighbors generally knew each other’s habits. 

Right??

Taking a deep breath and rubbing at your eyes, you re-read the text for the fifth time. 

You were not going to look over. 

Nope. 

...Nadda. 

Your eye twitched. 

...Wasn’t happeni -

A strangled whine escaped your throat.

You just needed to stretch your neck. That was why your head turned towards your windows. 

Why you caught a full view of toned arms being stretched above a head of short blond hair.

With a deep breath, you tore you eyes away and snapped your laptop closed before getting up and heading to your bedroom where you were going to focus on your work and not think about how low-slung Adonis’ sweatpants were on his lean hips nor how his back muscles rippled across his insanely broad shoulders...

Groaning, you tossed your laptop onto the bedside table in defeat and collapsed onto your bed, covering your face.

You were not going to fantasize think about Adonis. 

Or his shoulders. 

Or his arms. 

Or his abs. 

And you absolutely were not going to think about a few special items stored just a foot away from you. 

“...Fuck.”

Taking a moment to readjust your earbud, you went back to tapping at your keyboard while [fave music artist] drowned out the sounds of the Starbucks around you. 

Being right around the corner from your apartment building, it was your favorite place to get work done. You could get coffee, a snack, and you could work without the ‘Shirtless Wonder’ parading around across the street. 

Shaking your head, you clicked send and rewarded yourself with a sip of your drink and a bite of your muffin before turning towards the window next to you. It was an overcast day, on the verge of a drizzle, so the need to cover your eyes as you watched the cars and pedestrians pass by was non-existent. 

Picking up your phone, you increased the volume of your music and closed your eyes, getting lost in the chorus with a content smile. As the song soon began to fade, the voices of the patrons around you came forward.

“And then that bastard just left!”

“So now my place smells like a sewer -”

“Ugh, you’ve gotta dump his ass, Cindy.”

“Steve, just go talk to her.”

“- and it looks like forty Taco Bell burritos exploded in the living room.”

“Yeah, but he’s sooooo cute!”

“Diana, I can’t just -”

“Oh, please tell me Sir Hound survived...”

“What was the assignment again?”

“He’s no good for you!”

“Go! Or I will.”

“Sir Hound didn’t make it.”

“You gotta dump his ass!”

“Fuck!”

“Fine.”

The next song had just started to pick up tempo when a light tap against your arm had your eyes snapping open. You caught sight of a broad hand retracting away and your eyes slowly drifted up the attached arm, grazing over an exposed forearm and pushed up sleeve, over a covered bicep and shoulder, and past an unbuttoned Henley collar to -

“Hello,” you breathed out before ripping your earbuds out. God, you hoped you weren’t gawking at him ‘cause it really felt like you were gawking at him.

“Hi,” Adonis echoed, showing off pearly white teeth. It seemed to warm up his already Sun God look, crinkling his sky-blue eyes. Far away you knew he was attractive, but this was just ridiculous. 

Sculpted muscles AND a handsome face???

This man was a Renaissance artist’s wet dream.

Your thoughts were broken when he offered his hand to you, one that you gladly took. “Steve. Steve Trevor. I’m - uh - I live across the street from you.”

Oh, God! You felt your face heat at his words. He probably saw you ogling him!

“[Y/F/N] [Y/L/N] and yeah, I - uh - I noticed,” you finished awkwardly. 

Steve seemed to perk up exponentially at your reply. “Really? Oh, that’s great!” 

A whisper of a hunch started to speak in the back of your mind as you peered up at the preening Greek peacock before you.

“Wait...Did you - oh my god - You were doing that on purpose!” You accused.

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but the blush blooming across his face told otherwise. 

Your jaw dropped open in disbelief. 

This is unbelievable.

“Are you trying to deny the fact that you walked around your apartment for the past several months in varying states of undress on accident?”

A farm fresh tomato couldn’t compete with his blush. He shifted, shuffling his drink between his hands. “Uhm...yes?”

This handsome ass did it on purpose. “Are you shitting me right now?”

He winced and hastily fumbled into the tall chair across from you. “Okay, maybe I did perhaps do it on purpose, but you were -,” Steve suddenly clammed up. 

You quirked an eyebrow. “I was...what?”

He squirmed and played with his coffee cup. “You - um - you sometimes wear this nightgown...” 

“Oh my God.” It was your turn to blush and you covered your face with your hands. You knew exactly what he was referring to; the slinky black number was a peer-pressure buy nearly two years ago. You and a friend had been taking advantage of a Victoria’s Secret sale when she had goaded you into buying the lacy number ‘just in case’. Instead you had taken to wearing it occasionally around your home.

What? It was a confidence booster. 

Unfortunately, any confidence you had left drained when you realized your mistake.

You had taken to wearing it a lot more after Steve moved in.

“Yeah,” you heard him say. “Windows tend to work both ways.”

You peeked between your fingers, still not ready to drop your hands. Bashful blue eyes met your own embarrassed [Y/E/C] ones. “I am so sorry.”

His eyes widened and he brought up his hands. “No, no don’t apologize! You look amazing!” He winced. “Wait - okay - that came out wrong. I don’t mean to say that you should apologize - okay, maybe you should - but not because you look bad because you look really really good, like, really good but - okay - I shouldn’t have said that because I should be the one apologizing for seeing you because that was highly inappropriate of me to look and -” Your giggle cut off his flustered rambling.

“I’m sorry,” you snorted. “You’re just really adorable when you’re flustered.” 

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “I swear I’m more composed than this, but that sort of goes out the window with you.” 

Your heart stuttered as he peered back at you. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I - I wanted to talk to you sooner - a lot sooner - but every time I saw you I'd loose my words. Diana,” he tipped his head to the side and, when you looked past his shoulder, you saw a beautiful brunette none too subtly watching the two of you. “She got tired of my...pining and - uh - decided enough was enough. I had planned out what I was going to say, but -” 

“-But you lost your words,” you said with an amused grin, one he returned sheepishly, still a little pink in the cheeks. “Well - if it makes you feel any better - if she hand’t have interfered, my friends would have.”

It was like a sun suddenly formed inside of him with how much he brightened up. “Really?”

You gave a timid shrug. “You’re...very attractive.” 

He leaned forward, cradling his coffee, a soft smile teasing his pink lips. “I find you very attractive as well.”

You bit your lip again as your cheeks flushed. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down for a second, causing a thrill to run through you. 

This is surreal. 

“...So...”

“So...” Steve’s broad hands gently spun his cup around. “Maybe we should probably go out sometime...get to know each other personally...” 

“I think we should,” you said. His eyes snapped up to meet your own. “Maybe, we could start right now?”

Steve beamed back at you. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Let me know if you wish to be added my permanent taglist or just be tagged in certain fandom fics :)

Permanent Taglist: @wonders-of-the-enterprise @feelmyroarrrr @igiveupicantthinkofausername @trustno1inapt221b

#steve trevor x reader #reader insert #dc #dc comics #steve trevor #fanfiction #fanfic #diana prince #goingknowhere #goingknowherewastaken #not my gif

[oneweekoneband]

If I dedicated the whole week to this album I couldn’t get through all the symbols and references, but I’ll touch on some of the big ones here. With 18 songs and a runtime of nearly 70 minutes, this album is best enjoyed as a movie; put it on, sit back with your whiskey, hydraulic fluid, or drink of choice, and listen through. 

The second and third suites of the Metropolis saga cover Cindi’s evolution from runaway android and underground singer, to evolving leader of a revolution. In the next album, Electric Lady, she will have achieved notoriety, but now she’s still establishing her manifesto and building a following. 

After a classical music “Suite II Overture”, the album doesn’t have any of the expository pieces from prior albums, but jumps straight into the more etherial, literary “Dance or Die”. 

The song plays with word pairings (as much of The Chase Suite did), with some slant rhyming, and a few verses defiantly ending in free verse couplings. 

Bouncing from mentions of futuristic particulars (if you see your clone on a street walking by / keep running for your life cuz only one will survive) to mourning a modern and futuristic state of politics and murder (Kids are killing kids and then the kids join the army . . .  From here to Sudan, Metropolis to Iraq) to religious references (You can pull the trigger or you can build you an ark) the song pulls from film, literature, modern landscapes and scriptures as it verbally paints a dystopian picture. 

Within that picture, we’re given the image of what and who can save us: 

You see we really got to and I think that we ought to Protect the mind from degradation Sow in the seeds of education They run from us, are we that dangerous? There's a war in all the streets and yes the freaks must dance or die!

A long long way to find the one We'll keep on dancing 'til she comes

What will save us is education, love, dancing and song. The person to bring those things, the ultimate savior, is the ArchAndroid. And a she, at that. 

If “Dance or Die” is the albums upfront thesis statement, the following “Faster” feels like the sermon’s climax, getting the crowd into it with quick tempos and a simple exhortation. Interestingly, it’s also Cindi speaking more personally, asking (as we all do in those dark nights of the soul, and certainly as religious figures have been known to do) if she chose right, whether she will be betrayed. 

On “Locked Inside”, Cindi has resolved her doubts and fears, and is appealing to her loved one Anthony Greendown to stay with her and together fight the overwhelming oppression and darkness around them. Again, the answer to war and hate is music and love, on the national level but also on the personal one. 

“Sir Greendown” finishes the slow evolution from political to personal and frenetic to waltz. The music slows, the lyrics are an explicit appeal for Cindi’s lover to come meet her, couched in ‘romantic’ terms of the old knights of old, complete with towers and dragons, ending in the simple declaration “I’m in love.”

Technically, the album is broken into two suites, but it feels as though it actually comes in three acts. The above five songs are Act 1. 

“Cold War” kicks off the second act. Not only does it pull a hard left from the softer romanticism (I’ve talked before and will again about how Monáe has no issues embracing the ups and downs and seemingly conflicting feelings of life, how one can swing from elated to depressed in a blink), but it’s more than just a tonal shift or ‘this album needs a pick-up tempo’ here. After talking to her audience about societal ills, after positioning herself, Cindi is singing more to the troops who have begun to surround her. She’s preaching more to the choir, exhorting them “do you know what you’re fighting for!?” and warning them it’s going to be hard and cold. “Tightrope” (which will have its own post, next) does the same, only getting more into the specifics of how people will attack you and how to deal with it. “Neon Gumbo” promises to be a personal comforter when that time comes, and you’re downtrodden and hurting and exhausted. 

“Oh Maker” is the most Blade-Runner-esque, (even though "Make the Bus” five songs later blatantly quotes the title “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.”) Cindi opens talking about the drizzle of the rain, and plaintively asks her maker whether they knew she could truly love, feel all these things, suffer and dream. Cindi (and Monáe) aren’t just singing about feelings, they’re asking you to feel with and for them, and it’s clear along with love and dance, they both find empathy one of the most important things to ending the war we perpetuate against each other. 

“Come Alive [War of the Roses]” is a delightful zombie tune, the second historical war cited, and the first single from the album. “Mushrooms & Roses” is all poetry and futuristic highscapes, very Song of Solomon-y. 

Most albums would be wrapping up around this point, but here the “Suite III Overture” kicks in, along with the third act. It sounds like a dreamy 40s movie soundtrack, and the few lyrics describe Cindi and her lover playing Romeo and Juliet, talking of when and where to run away together. (It’s produced by Roman GianArthur, whose name will pop up again later.)

“Neon Valley Street” continues those R+J vibes, with musicality like something out of West Side Story and a romantic pining which can’t help but grapple with the reality of a “city [which is] just a danger zone” for our heroes; illegal, hunted by warring factions, and in love. Cindi also cites Harriet Tubman and John Henry, outlaw figures from the very distant past, “running fast through time . . . but the time was wrong.” 

“Wondaland” serves as Cindi’s and the listeners escapism to a place where music is peppier and you can dance, wear your finest tuxedos, and lose your underpants in fun activities. 

“57821″ swerves yet again, this time into melancholy, and is the most expositional of the album. It’s got an Empire Strikes Back feel to it, as near the end of the instillment, our hero Cindi is chained and all looks lost. Back to the dark night of the soul, and wondering

I wonder if I'm, I wonder if I'm (You're the one) Am I the one?

but whether or no, there’s the declaration

Anthony Greendown your Cindi Mayweather will always be waiting for you Just as sure as the sunlight keeps beaming on your eyes She'll always be waiting for you

Love conquers all, etcetera. 

“Say You’ll Go” and “ByBopByeYa” cap it off, and though they work fine as songs and lyrical exercises, they’re at the end of the album for a reason; they’re mostly treading narrative ground we’ve already covered this album. Consider them the deleted scenes on the DVD extras; enjoyable, beautiful, not necessary for the plot arc in the finished feature. 

#Janelle Monae #The ArchAndroid #Cindi Mayweather #Metropolis #Romeo and Juliet

[13thfloornz]

I first encountered Pixies by way of a burnt CD thrust into my hands by a classmate after a Classics lesson in 2005. “You’ll probably like these guys they’re weird” he said as he disappeared into the throng of teenagers. What I later found on my Discman was back-to-back copies of Doolittle and Surfer Rosa. I was struck by the surreally biblical lyrics and fuzzy guitar work that created songs filled with existential angst, songs filled with nothing at all. Their music was absurdly chaotic, much like life. In the case of Doolittle, there was not a single track I didn’t like, and it fast became one of my favourite albums, one which seemed to grow and mature with me, that I was constantly finding new depths in.

Black Francis almost moved to New Zealand to become an astronomer, but he ended up forming the Pixies instead thank goodness. I found it surprising that they hadn’t been to New Zealand until 2010, when I was up the front of the Vector Arena, pressed against the bar directly in front of Kim Deal who was drinking beer throughout the set and having a whale of a time. Playing Doolittle in its entirety, and only the choicest cuts from other albums and b-sides, it was an otherworldly experience, and undisputedly one of my top three live music experiences to date. Kim’s bass pick and my ticket stub from that show are proudly framed and displayed to this day.

So when I heard that the Pixies were coming back to support the release of Head Carrier, I was in two minds. I didn’t want to mar my previous experience and probably out of loyalty to Kim, I was sceptical about how her replacement Paz Lenchatin, formerly of A Perfect Circle would translate live. But on the other hand, after a spate of misses, their latest album was good, and it was the Pixies.

So this time I found myself sitting just to the side of stage closest to Paz. The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and Pixies, one of the most influential bands of the last 30 years, one of the cornerstones of Grunge, who are probably on every discerning Hipsters playlist, traipsed onstage and wordlessly opened with Where is My Mind? It was a gut wrenching, breath-taking, bold moment to open with their signature song. The Pixies rarely work with set lists, so each night is different. We were treated to a cross section of their seven albums to date, churned out with unrelenting professionalism and musicianship.

Everything seemed much simpler than their last show here, the stage set up was some strategic lighting and dry ice. Without the trappings, all there was to focus on was their technical skill, their songs, and their delivery, which seemed a lot tighter, a lot more assured. As you would expect from a Pixies concert, the tempo and mood ebbed and flowed throughout the evening. Highlights included Gouge Away, Hey, and Neil Young cover Winterlong. Black Francis’s voice can still reach the desolate, angry howls, and plummet to a menacing whisper in a single breathe as Joey Santiago’s guitar wove in and out of focus.  They didn’t utter a single word throughout their set, and they didn’t need to- to speak would have broken their spell over the audience, some who were crowd surfing like it was 1989 all over again.

Finally I owe Paz an apology and acknowledgement. She was fantastic, and took charge of their encore- the b-side Into The White.  Dare I say her performance was better than Kim’s some seven years ago.

While this performance hasn’t replaced their Doolittle show in my “best live show’ list, it’s probably because of my emotional attachment to that album more than anything. Last night was still a gritty, fun, nostalgic nods to one of alternative rock’s (and my) most important artists.

Kate Powell

Click on any image to view a photo gallery by Michael Flynn:

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 16%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Pixies set list:

Where Is My Mind?

Here Comes Your Man

Winterlong

Blown Away

Mr Grieves

Nimrod’s Son

Indie Cindy

All The Saints

Vamos

Gouge Away

All I Think About

Debaser

Broken Face

Ilsa de Encanta

Magdalena 318

Head Carrier

Monkey Gone To Heaven

Classic Masher

Wave Of Mutilation

Oona

Might As Well Be Gone

Um Chagga Lagga

Crackity Jones

Bel Esprit

Velouria

Hey

Bone Machine

Into The White

  The Pixies – Vector Arena March 11, 2017 I first encountered Pixies by way of a burnt CD thrust into my hands by a classmate after a Classics lesson in 2005.

#13th floor #Auckland #concert review #Kate Powell #Michael Flynn #NZ #Photos #Pixies #Vector

[rkpappas]

Josie Meiss - "Ballet: A History in Broad Brushstrokes" by Carol Pardo

After watching Rebecca’s video lectures, this reading was easy to digest. Both watching the lectures and reading this article exposed me to a lot of new information. For instance, I had no idea that certain aspects of ballet can be traced back to fencing and mime; the article explains that the classic element of turnout comes from fencing, and all of the indicative movements and gestures in dramatic ballets come from mime. This just goes to show that even though I’ve been studying ballet for years, there’s still so much to learn! There were so many sections of the text that I found to be particularly interesting or noteworthy, which I marked with asterisks and/or exclamation points. I was particularly taken off guard by the fact that there were people in Russia who loved the art form so much “that they boiled a toe shoe belonging to their favorite ballerina and ate it” (105). I laughed out loud on page 101, when the author says that “training [ballet] dancers requires at least eight years of study”. This was so funny to me because ballet requires so much more than just “eight years of study”. It often requires multiple hours of dancing per day, a healthy lifestyle, and in many cases, a certain body type. Aside from that, ballet dancers can’t stop training until their career is over. So really, a ballet dancer’s training never ends. Relating this back to previous material, I am still fascinated by the fact that modern and ballet began to develop in America around the same time. We often think of ballet as being much older than modern, and even though its origins can be traced back a few centuries, it didn’t come to America until the late 19th/early 20th century. Therefore, ballet is still relatively new to the United States. I also find it interesting that ballet and modern started as “enemies” but have gradually become “friends” over time. There used to be a strong dividing line between the two forms, but over time, that line has been blurred.

Today, we often see and hear about a subgenre of dance known as contemporary ballet: a form of dance that blends elements of ballet and modern together in a variety of ways. Copied below is a link to a short promotional video for Collage Dance Collective, a contemporary ballet company based out of Memphis, Tennessee. I actually just saw this company perform at the New York City Center during the 2017 Association of Performing Arts Presenters conference. To preface the showcase, the artistic director Kevin Thomas said, “One of our goals at Collage Dance Collective is to promote the growth of [ballet as an] art form,” and I got to see first hand how they are attempting to do so. They push ballet’s boundaries, using unconventional music like “Amazing Grace”, incorporating asymmetry, letting movement and music disagree in terms of energy and tempo, and showcasing strength and athleticism as opposed to delicacy and precision. This video depicts several Collage dancers, performing a mixture of traditional ballet steps and contemporary movements. Layered on top of the video is a spoken word piece by Cindy Lyles, which speaks to the idea that ballet should be accessible to everyone, no matter the color of your skin. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOeWy183miA

Discussion Questions:

On page 109, Pardo claims that, in his choreography, Balanchine incorporated elements that he considered to be “particularly American”, including “speed, clarity, syncopation, and a voracious attitude toward space.” Do you agree that these traits are “particularly American”? Why or why not?

Marius Petipa choreographed The Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker over a century ago, and yet, they continue to be performed year after year by companies worldwide. Why do you think Imperial Ballets like The Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, and Swan Lake have stood the test of time? In other words, what makes these ballets so special?

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Josie Meiss - “Ballet: A History in Broad Brushstrokes” by Carol Pardo

After watching Rebecca’s video lectures, this reading was easy to digest. Both watching the lectures and reading this article exposed me to a lot of new information. For instance, I had no idea that certain aspects of ballet can be traced back to fencing and mime; the article explains that the classic element of turnout comes from fencing, and all of the indicative movements and gestures in dramatic ballets come from mime. This just goes to show that even though I’ve been studying ballet for years, there’s still so much to learn! There were so many sections of the text that I found to be particularly interesting or noteworthy, which I marked with asterisks and/or exclamation points. I was particularly taken off guard by the fact that there were people in Russia who loved the art form so much “that they boiled a toe shoe belonging to their favorite ballerina and ate it” (105). I laughed out loud on page 101, when the author says that “training [ballet] dancers requires at least eight years of study”. This was so funny to me because ballet requires so much more than just “eight years of study”. It often requires multiple hours of dancing per day, a healthy lifestyle, and in many cases, a certain body type. Aside from that, ballet dancers can’t stop training until their career is over. So really, a ballet dancer’s training never ends. Relating this back to previous material, I am still fascinated by the fact that modern and ballet began to develop in America around the same time. We often think of ballet as being much older than modern, and even though it origins can be traced back a few centuries, it didn’t come to America until the late 19th and early 20th century. Therefore, to the US, ballet is relatively new. I also find it interesting that ballet and modern started as “enemies” but have gradually become “friends” over time. There used to be a strong dividing line between the two forms, but over time, that line has been blurred.

Today, we often see and hear about a subgenre of dance known as contemporary ballet: a form of dance that blends elements of ballet and modern together in a variety of ways. Copied below is a link to a short promotional video for Collage Dance Collective, a contemporary ballet company based out of Memphis, Tennessee. I actually just saw this company perform at the New York City Center during the 2017 Association of Performing Arts Presenters conference. To preface the showcase, the artistic director Kevin Thomas said, “One of our goals at Collage Dance Collective is to promote the growth of [ballet as an] art form,” and I got to see first hand how they are attempting to do so. They push ballet’s boundaries, using unconventional music like “Amazing Grace”, incorporating asymmetry, letting movement and music disagree in terms of energy and tempo, and showcasing strength and athleticism as opposed to delicacy and precision. This video depicts several Collage dancers, performing a mixture of traditional ballet steps and contemporary movements. Layered on top of the video is a spoken word piece by Cindy Lyles, which speaks to the idea that ballet should be accessible to everyone, no matter the color of your skin. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOeWy183miA

Discussion Questions:

On page 109, Pardo claims that, in his choreography, Balanchine incorporated elements that he considered to be “particularly American”, including “speed, clarity, syncopation, and a voracious attitude toward space.” Do you agree that these traits are “particularly American”? Why or why not?

Marius Petipa choreographed The Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker over a century ago, and yet, they continue to be performed year after year by companies worldwide. Why do you think Imperial Ballets like The Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, and Swan Lake have stood the test of time? In other words, what makes these ballets so special?