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engmjr419 · 3 years

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There is Joy in Simplicity: 19th century Optical Toys

A late 19th century advertisement for the Stereoscope. It advertises the ability to be “Around the World in 60 minutes” reflecting the educational quality people believed the Stereoscope to have. Source.

I have become engrossed in the world of Yo-Yos lately. This little hunk of plastic with the name Duncan painted on the side, flying through the air on a string. By itself it seems so perfectly simple, however the world of Yo-Yos is deeper than one would think. For instance, there’s several different types of Yo-Yos with their own advantages and disadvantages based on their material and shape. While a Yo-Yo may seem like a simple toy, they also demonstrate a humans ability to learn reflexes. At first, I could barely get the Yo-Yo to come back up but after weeks of continued use I can shoot a dog across the wooden floor of my mother’s kitchen. Toys in a society are truly significant, because they represent what that society wants the young to learn or what they themselves want to play with. They are a form of experimentation.

Just as the yo-yo represents a learning of reflexes, the toys of 19th century America reflect the societal obsession with illusion and vision. Granted, people of the 19th century already had stuff like dolls (which I would argue is still related to vision of the human form), wooden tops and yoyos, dominos, balls, and all other means of play, but the late 19th century sees a boom of vision-based toys. We see the kleidoskope, the thaumatrope, the phenakistoscope, the stereoscope, the zoetrope, and the praxinoscope emerge as these fun little practices in vision. The early hints of film, the basics of animation, the play of illusion all appear in this era.

These toys exist as echoes of the 19th century American societal interest in deception, vision, and representation of self. In the early 19th century, the American faced challenges of identity, the crowd, later on they faced the mass societal grief and crisis of war, the camera as a view of reality, and the concept of the showman like P.T. Barnum, going into the late years of the era we see the early hints of film come out and the concepts of reality. Throughout the 19th century we see visions-based gadgets appear as supplements to the already ongoing discussions of view. Toys like the kaleidoscope, the thaumatrope, the phenakistoscope, the stereoscope, and the zoetrope and praxinoscope all represent a growing societal interest in vision and experimentation throughout the 19th century.

An 1818 illustration titled “Human Nonsense”, the man in the top hat is so entranced by the kaleidoscope, he doesn’t notice he’s walking directly in front of a bike. The Victorians had what Is now called a “craze” over kaleidoscopes as they allowed exploration of vision. Source.

The first optical toy to be invented in the Victorian age was the Kaleidoscope in 1816, by David Brewster, who we will see appear again. Jason Farman of Atlas Obscura describes the 19th century kaleidoscope design as, “made from a range of materials, such as tubes made of brass with embellishments of wood or leather or those cheaply made of tin. The base of the tube was typically filled with broken pieces of glass, ribbons, or other small trinkets.” When viewed from one side, the other would appear as a range of fantastical colors, patterns, and shapes. It almost immediately gained massive popularity, amongst both children and adults, scientists, artists, and industry professionals. Scientists “found it useful as a tool to visualize massive numbers” while artists and industrials used it “for patterns on china, paper, carpets, floor-cloths, and other fabrics” (Farman).

It was experimentation in the role of the eye in light, and shape, along with the illusions of beauty, or reality, when viewed close with a magnifier. Truthfully, some people felt betrayed when they found out what was inside of a kaleidoscope, R.S. Dement, a playwright, writes he was “deceived (as a child) into believing that what he saw was at least the shadow of something real and beautiful, when in truth it was only a delusion” (Farman). However, this only further intrigued some of the Victorian viewers:

These new visual tricksters fed into the fascination in the deficits of the human eye and how it could be misled. As people began understanding human vision differently because of these objects, people also began seeing the world through machines like trains, moving walkways, and steamships (Farman).

While the kaleidoscope is simplistic, it is not to be denied it is important as a starting point for the 19th century conversation on vision. A tube that presents to the viewer an illusionary range of symmetrical colors and patterns, created by broken glass, ribbons, and random scraps.

Vignette by George Cruikshank from Philosophy in Sport, 1827. Source.

The next optical toy to appear was the thaumatrope, appearing in the mid-1820s (when it was first published) by John Aryton Paris. The history of the thaumatrope is a mixed and complex mess of early 19th century scientific figures making a bet, including John Herschel (A popular astronomer), Charles Babbage (A mathematician who made the calculating engine), and David Brewster, however it stands clear as a true foundation of visual interest (Herbert). As much as I talk it up, the toy is extremely simple. It consists of a piece of cardboard with two strings on each end, with a picture on both sides (the classic example is bird on one side and a cage on the other) and when the user twists the strings fast enough the two images appear to become one (The bird appears inside of the cage). The same effect had been created by spinning a coin previously, however the thaumatrope was the first to give “the phenonium a scientific explanation and a device produced to be sold as a popular entertainment” (Gunning 499).

Bird-in-Cage Thaumatrope, the classic example and believed to be the first thaumatrope image created as an example, by Dr. Fitton. This depiction pictures the expected result of twisting the strings. Source.

While it is basic, its an extremely effective toy for teaching a core concept of the 19th century. There is flaw in the human vision, or moreso, the human vision has depths and conditions. From 1827’s Philosophy in Sport by Paris, “I will now show you that the eye also has its source of fallacy” says “Mr. Seymour” as he operates the device (501). Its simplicity allows there to be no questions about interference from the toy’s design, there is no mirror, or screen, or other window the viewer is looking at the toy at through.

“We can operate it and understand its process. But the image it produces is not fixed in space, embodied in pigment or canvas; it occurs in our perception. Yet while it may be defined as a subjective image, taking place through our individual processes of perception, it is not a fantasy or, in a psychological sense, a hallucination” (513).

There is simply vision, and the effect of the lasting image (called an afterimage) the human eye creates with the reality the user is the sole reason the illusion continues. Tom Gunning captures perfectly what the Thaumatrope meant as a foundational toy, “This device introduces to the Victorian era a new class of images simultaneously technological, optical, and perceptual” (500). It is the perfect device to start the 19th century with a magical simplicity that allows the user to experience illusion in their own hands through natural processes of the eye.

An illustration depicting a person using the phenakistoscope. Of course, it’s impossible to depict the movement accurately in a drawing. Source.

Later, in 1832, the phenakistoscope was “simultaneously invented…by Joseph Plateau in Brussels and by Simon von Stampfer in Berlin” though other concepts were in the works at the same time (“Phenakistoscopes (1833)”). The so called “parlour toy” is a cardboard disc on a handheld stick with an outer circle of images and an inner circle of slits which the viewer would look through. The “trick” of the toy is to spin it while looking through the slits into a mirror, where the images on the outer circle jump to life in animation through the distortion and the flicker of light as the disc moves. “The scanning of the slits across the reflected images kept them from simply blurring together, so that the user would see a rapid succession of images that appeared to be a single moving picture” (“A Short History of the Phenakistoscope”). Its one of the earliest forms of animation, completely using human sight as its method.

A Phenakistoscope featuring zebras and monkeys in a jungle setting, the zebras would run, and the monkeys would swing when viewed through a mirror. This particular phenakistoscope is from a competing product of the original production, “Mclean’s Optical Illusions or Magic Panorama” from 1833. This is a simplistic image, but phenakistoscopes became more complex as years went on. Source.

Like how the thaumatrope represents a flaw in human vision, the phenakistoscope fully represents the conditionality of vision. The human eye is susceptible to condition, to light, to distortion of light, to illusion. The illusion is only possible through a window, the mirror, showing the young the new concepts of the human eye as an unreliable “narrator” by itself. However, at the same time it shows it through an exciting illusion of movement. The Phenakistoscope saw mass popularity, being published under names like Fantoscope and “Magic Wheel”, leading to further visual toys being produced which would eventually overtake the simple phenakistoscope and thaumatrope. However, before we get into them let us take a quick sideroad into the world of photography.

A 1908 advertisement for a stereoscope viewer in the Pittsburgh Daily Post. It presents the stereoscope as a tool, and as entertainment. Source.

In 1838, Charles Wheatstone published a paper reporting an odd illusion he had discovered where two drawings of the same object, at slightly different perspectives, were placed next to each other the two would be fused together by the eye into a three-dimensional view of it. It is realized this is exactly how the eye functions, each eye taking its own perspective and the two images fusing together for a full three-dimensional view (Thompson). From Oliver Wendell Holme’s 1859 essay on the Stereoscope (After it gained mass popularity):

The two eyes see different pictures of the same thing, for the obvious reason that they look from points two or three inches apart. By means of these two different views of an object, the mind, as it were, feels round it and gets an idea of its solidity. We clasp an object with our eyes, as with our arms, or with our hands (Jacobi).

Wheatstone created a table-top device to demonstrate this effect more easily and clearly, thus the world’s first stereoscope was created, a product of the 19th century’s scientific endeavors.

However, the mass market version of the stereoscope would not be refined and produced until a decade later, by Davis Brewster (who you may remember as the inventor of the kaleidoscope and involved with the thaumatrope) who crafted it into a handheld model in 1849, enabling a scene to appear anywhere.

The refinement of the stereoscope just so happened to align with the release of the first photographs (the specific type called daguerreotypes) as well, enabling the device to show its true potential. “Once Brewster’s design hit the market, the stereoscope exploded in popularity” writes Clive Thompson of the Smithsonian, “The London Stereoscopic Company sold affordable devices; its photographers fanned out across Europe to snap stereoscopic images. In 1856, the firm offered 10,000 views in its catalog, and within six years they’d grown to one million.” The stereoscope, at least its phenomenon, is possibly one of the most long-lasting of these optical toys, considering 3D magic books are on the shelves that use stereoscope technology and some virtual reality headsets rely on the same visual illusion to function.

A stereograph of Indian people gathered outside of a building, created between 1860 and 1930. Stereographs were viewed as tools for exploring the world without literally traveling, however it also led to people objectifying different cultures as they were not people but depictions of people that lacked relation. Source.

The stereoscope equipped with the stereograph became a scientific tool, a toy, and an educational object. Astronomers used it to peer closer at celestial objects. “Astronomers realized that if they took two pictures of the moon—shot months apart from each other—then it would be like viewing the moon using a face that was the size of a city: “Availing ourselves of the giant eyes of science,” as one observer wrote. (The technique indeed revealed new lunar features)” (Thompson). It also became a tool of education, as a way for the child to view far off locations and immerse in a select scene, which the Victorian believed sharpened the child’s attention as their mind was “chaotic and unfocused”. The mass popularity of the stereoscope enabled mass collections of stereographs to develop, which further allowed people to see far off regions, of India, of Asia, of Africa, and the landmarks of Europe, South America, and their own America. However, overall, it remains a toy, a device for entertainment, a way to immerse oneself in another world, another plane, another region.

The stereoscope reflects the society’s interest in vision, the world, and the depths of the human eye. The lighting illusionary discovery reveals the eye to be more than seen, a thing to be further explored. The use of the stereograph reveals the human eye to have complex mechanisms of sight, what you see if not simplistic it is made up of two images. People collected hundreds of stereographs that depicted America, landmarks, animals, people, and any other thing you could imagine into countless to indulge in. However, it is important for the Victorian, and us, to remember however, a person inside of a photograph is not a person, it is the depiction of a person.

A 19th century advertisement for the Zoetrope from T.H. McAllister, describing the Zoetrope as “an instructive Scientific Toy, illustrating in an attractive manner the persistence of an image on the retina of the eye.” The nickname “Wheel of Life” comes from the way the images appear to “jump to life”. Source.

The direct improvement of the phenakistoscope was the cylindrical Zoetrope, first invented by William George Horner in 1834 (only a year or two after the phenakistoscope) who originally named it the Daedalum (the “Wheel of the Devil”) but only marketed in 1887 under the new name of Zoetrope (A combination of the Greek words for life and turn). It improves on the phenakistoscope in two aspects, the user did not need a mirror to observe the effect, and the device could be enjoyed by more than one person at a time. The Zoetrope works in a similar method, along with also being constructed of cardboard, to the phenakistoscope:

Photo included with the article, showing the construction of the zoetrope. Source.

The zoetrope is a mechanical device that produces the effect of motion through a rapid succession of static images, seen through the slits in a rotating cylinder. The sequenced drawings or photographs lie beneath the slits on the inner surface of the cylinder, and as the cylinder spins the viewer looks through the slits at the opposite side of the interior. This scanning action prevents the images from blurring together, and the viewer is treated to a repeating motion picture (Kumar).

The device is considered an early work of animation, along with the flipbook, and acts as a supplement to the evolving concept of human vision, deception, and illusion in the 19th century. From the time of its creation to its market appearance, P.T. Barnum rose to worldwide fame, the Civil war ended, the concept of photographs and spirit photography had arrived, and the societal concept of children had evolved. It is only just then, that the Zoetrope is succeeded by yet another evolution of vision, the Praxinoscope.

An advertisement for the Praxinoscope theatre at the 1878 Exposition Universal in Paris, highlighting its winning of a bronze medal. Source.

The Praxinoscope was created in 1877 by Emile Reynaud, a Frenchman. It is similar in design to the Zoetrope, however it has one innovation that makes it superior, it replaces the slits used to create the effect with narrow vertical mirrors placed in the center of the drum (Greenslade). This enabled even further wider audiences, along with cleaner, brighter animation which was vital in an era before the lightbulb. The praxinoscope garnered massive popularity, being used in homes, and presented as theatres like the one above.

The zoetrope and the praxinoscope both represent the later ends of the 19th century in terms of the view of vision, as this concept that exists to be explored, a thing that can view through windows into other realities, that of film, of moving pictures, of the modern cinema experience. They stand as foundational objects to the modern film industry, with film coming quickly after their creation in the late 1800s and early 1900s. While these toys are simplistic to the modern viewer, they stand as important milestones of concepts of human vision, of looking askance, and of the eye.

Lithograph by Alfred Mahlau from “Spielzeug, eine Bunte Fibel”, a german book from 1938 by Hans-Friedrich von Geist. The lithograph shows a Kaleidoscope, A Stereoscope, a Zoetrope, along with later film mediums. Source.

The 19th century was an era of vision, the exploration of it, the evolution of it, and the play of it. Within the century we see the concepts of vision evolve, from the simple exploration of tricks of the eye to the questioning of the credibility of it, alongside it we see these optical toys appearing as exploration of the concepts. The kaleidoscope appears in the early 19th century as an exploration of the interaction of the eye and light. The thaumatrope flips as a exploration of an illusionary sticking image of the eye. The phenakistoscope spins to look at how the interaction of the eye and light can create illusions of movement. The stereoscope appears as another exploration of an illusion the eye creates, being used to explore other regions and concepts. Finally, the Zoetrope and the Praxinoscope make their way in, becoming early concepts of animation by building off the concepts of the phenakistoscope, and enhancing the effect with more slits and mirrors.

While these toys may seem laughably simplistic to us, there is a reason things like yoyos, balls, and dolls are still so amazingly popular along with these very optical toys being recreated and sold. There is a joy in simplicity, there is joy exploring the human eye.

Farman, Jason. “The Forgotten Kaleidoscope Craze in Victorian England”. Atlas Obscura, November 9th, 2015. https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-forgotten-kaleidoscope-craze-in-victorian-england

Greenslade, Thomas B. “Praxinoscopes”. Instruments for Natural Philosophy, Keyton College. http://physics.kenyon.edu/EarlyApparatus/Optical_Recreations/Praxinoscopes/Praxinoscopes.html

Gunning, Tom. “Hand and Eye: Excavating a New Technology of the Image in the Victorian Era” Victorian Studies, Vol. 54, No. 3, Indiana University Press, Spring 2012. Pgs. 499-501, 513.

Herbert, Stephen. “The Thaumatrope Revisited; or: "a round about way to turn'm green". The Wheel of Life, https://www.stephenherbert.co.uk/thaumatropeTEXT1.htm

Jacob, Carol. “Tate Painting and the Art of Stereoscopic Photography”. ‘Poor man’s picture gallery’: Victorian Art and Stereoscopic”. Tate, https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/display/bp-spotlight-poor-mans-picture-gallery-victorian-art-and-stereoscopic/essay

Kamar, Julie. “The Wheel Of The Devil - The History Of The Zoetrope From Ancient China To Pixar”. June 1st, 2012. Thalo, https://www.thalo.com/articles/view/343/the_wheel_of_the_devil_the_history_of_the

Thompson, Clive. “Stereographs Were the Original Virtual Reality”. Smithsonian Magazine, October 2017. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/sterographs-original-virtual-reality-180964771/

“A Short History of the Phenakistoscope” June 28, 2014. Juxtapoz: Art & Culture, https://www.juxtapoz.com/news/news/short-history-of-the-phenakistoscope/

“Phenakistoscopes (1833)”. The Public Domain Review, https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/phenakistoscopes-1833

#Optical Toys #19th century vision

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loudestsounds · 3 years

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Top 50 Records of 2020

50- Melee by Dogleg

You like some punk in your cereal? It’s a part of a healthy breakfast. Melee has something truly special here. It’s high octane when it needs to be while still maintaining precision and focus in the instrumentation and recording. Ultimately what’s compelling about the record is how frustrated everything sounds while still managing to maintain melody. It’s the sound of breaking shit to rhythm!

49- Grae by Moses Sumney

A stunning and rich concoction of songs that leaves you bewildered. Moses Sumney has made something deeply personal while still inviting you inside. While the second half (which was released a few months apart from the first) tends to make the entire album feel a touch long-winded, the effort is well-executed and often breathtaking.

48- Fail to Be by Yashira

This one snuck in at the last minute. A totally earth-shattering metal record that is determined to damage your dome permanently. There’s certainly a heavy dose of Converge influence all over the record, but Yashira manages to separate themselves from the pack with excellent song writing and unique choices. Production wise this record might be par for the course, but there are some nice little touches on tracks like The Weight and Amnesia that create wonderful depth.

47- Man on the Moon III by Kid Cudi

I went into this thing with on giant sigh but left questioning whether I had accidentally pressed play on another album. Kid Cudi manages to pull something off! Cudi somehow takes inspiration from the genre that took inspiration from his own catalogue of music circa 2005. This is a terrific record to zone out to and let play out. Will this record rival some of the big stack bullies of hip hop? No. Cudi was never about that. He’s always been about mood and this is one moody son of a-! There are some clear skippable tracks (see: Elsie’s baby boy) but he also lands some excellent grooves on Solo Dolo, Pt. III, Lovin’ Me and Tequila Shots. While the record does suffer from overstaying its welcome with an 18 song track list—it manages not to take you out of the experience.

46- Whole New Mess by Angel Olsen

WNM was poorly marketed as a distinct album, despite being essentially stripped back versions of 2019′s All Mirrors. Audiences were met with disappointment at having only two fresh songs to sample. The reality is it doesn’t fucking matter. Angel Olsen has done no wrong for her entire career. These songs can breathe in a ‘whole new’ way on this record and allow the listener greater insight while simultaneously haunting the walls of the record. Lark and Tonight (Without You) take on an entirely different life, and New Love Cassette feels like a different song entirely. Even Olsen’s scraps feel like fully realized ideas. Still—the title track steals the show, as we hear Olsen at her most desperate. Usually overwhelming the listener with her poise and sharp wit, Olsen promises that she’ll really do the change. She doesn’t have to change a thing.

45- Eastern Flowers by SVEN WUNDERS

This one caught me off guard in the summer and I had it playing in the background of everything I was doing. Cleaning. Studying. Working. Eastern Flowers is middle eastern music made by Nordic people and I stopped trying to figure out how that happened a while ago. There is a lovely energy here, one that fuses traditional middle eastern melodies with funk embellishments. Eastern Flowers is just a really fun time.

44- The Archer by Alexandra Savior

I had skipped Savior’s first record entirely before diving into the sophomore album. Going back, it’s clear that she has developed a great deal in the meantime. Despite Alex Turner producing the last one, the song writing takes the haunting details to whole new heights. Savior seems more confident in her voice, and also more willing to play with it in production (the ghostly tone on her voice in Soft Currents a testament). Savior separates herself from artists with a similar voice or who rest beside her within her genre, in how long she is willing to simmer within a song. These aren’t typical arrangements and it’s exciting to hear Savior throw you for a loop on songs like Howl and But You. We’re all excited for what lies next.

43- Push by Heads.

Angry. Aggressive. Anxious. Push is a record that feels like the moments that build up before a massive protest. You are constantly pushed to the edge as the listener. There is a sinister element to the vocals that is deeply unsettling. Most songs slowly build with the promise of something bigger, instead reaching success simply by maintaining tension. Then there are songs like Weather Beaten and Nobody Moves & Everybody Talks that change the narrative, exploding into a punishing breakdown. Heads. Have something truly electric and angry on their hands here, and we’ll go along for the ride.

42- Indistinct Conversations by Land of Talk

Many stripped-back and bare tracks on this one from Montreal’s own Land of Talk. It hits you about halfway through that the album is obsessed with loving one’s own history. Even when things have failed to work out, many songs suggest that we can only look back fondly. Opener Diaphonous warns I was caught up in the wrong stuff/ but I have to laugh. There are moments of greatness on this record, like the rushing movement of Look to You and the twangy riff of Footnotes—yet the marvel is in the consistent beauty, never wavering.

41- Are You Gone by Sarah Harmer

A really soothing yet fun indie rock record that satisfies my craving for the music I loved as a teenager. There are some lovely arrangements and melodies from Harmer on this one, and while the mood is a touch sad, you’re happy you got to share in the emotion of it all. The album oscillates between more intimate moments and full-band jams, which create a nice balance—as if you’re moving in and out with the tide.

40- Circles by Mac Miller

I was never the biggest Mac Miller fan. I wasn’t all that familiar with his catalogue before Swimming, and I perhaps made a point of listening to this posthumous release simply because he passed tragically. Still, the songs seem touched by his state, haunting the listener in combination with what we know ultimately happened to Mac. It’s a real shame it had to end like this, but if there was ever a gorgeous, captivating, and mature release to come at the end of a successful career cut short, Circles was it.

39- Down to the Lowest Terms: The Soul Sessions by Steve Arrington

Steve Arrington is back from his cryogenic freeze with a sick friggin’ soul album! These are fun, joyous and lived in gospel/soul tracks that play well in almost any setting. Play this bad boy with your friends, family and even around the office. Nobody will be disappointed. There are also some beautiful production touches that make this a great listen on headphones. Steve wants to tell you all about how funk is the way—and I think I believe him.

38- Atonement by exhalants.

A fun ripper that makes you want to run up your walls and slam your fists on the floor. Atonement is not active listening per se, at least not in comparison to records released by their cohort, but it certainly puts you in a space that the band creates, dictates and commands. This is a band that has borrowed from others in the genre, but made that rare hardcore record that has just the right amount of hooks while maintaining space to catch ones breath.

37- Petals for Armor by Hayley Williams

PFA had that multiple EP release thing that a few artists did this year (see: Dirty Projectors). Ultimately the entire project suffered from a touch of bloat—but the incredible songs were spread out enough on this album, that it had to make my list. There are incredible production choices on this record, and it clearly was a labour of love for Williams. The songs are a bit rigid in the vein of Annie Clark, but Williams has a freedom to her vocals that liberates them. I think a more refined 10 track album may have cracked my top 20. Songs like Taken and My Friend don’t seem to have a real purpose on the record other than just being half-baked mood tracks, but they don’t tarnish the effect that songs like Simmer, Over Yet or Sugar on the Rim have on the listener.

36- Farewell to All we Know by Matt Elliott

Farewell is a collection of the creepiest, saddest and most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard. I don’t usually stray down this path but this is an album that works so well when reading or writing. There is some beautiful poetry on the darkness of the world and the last hopes for mankind. What sets the record apart lays in the details. The haunting echoes of the city streets. The whisper of ghosts that drag behind Elliott’s guitar. The record establishes incredible mood, inviting you in for a glass of despair.

35- Polysomn by Kairon; IRSE!

My head hurts just trying to write about this record. It’s weird, heavy, melodic. The vocals feel unique to the genre while used sparingly. There is a lot of interesting synth play on this record that might invite listeners outside of the genre—but that also add depth and feeling to songs that otherwise might feel like trudges through metal music mud. Polysomn is filled with exciting, dynamic elements that are a good entrance into “weird, heavy music” for you listeners out there. I won’t pretend to know how this band does what it does any longer. Just enjoy.

34- Impossible Weight by Deep Sea Diver

Frankly, the record is difficult to talk about without making it seem like it sounds like basically all of its contemporaries. In fairness, Deep Sea Diver shares a lot of commonality with the likes of Weyes Blood, Broken Social Scene, Sharon Van Etten (who even features on the title track). That said, everything sounds great on this record. The songs are tight, the melodies hang effortlessly and the vibes are…vibes. There are a ton of interesting choices, from the weird arrangements on Hurricane, reminiscent of Wolf Parade- to the videogame synths on Lightning Bolts. It never gets tired or boring—it just stands as an excellent indie pop/rock record that you can play at your board game night.

33- When I Die, Will I Get Better? by SVALBARD

Equal parts mathy, metal, prog, emo and god knows what. This album has an intense feel to it that will have you uplifted as you thrash around your apartment. The momentum of these songs truly amazes, as we’re taken for an absolutely blistering ride on almost every track. Nonetheless, the songs find a way to breathe, unlike most of their contemporaries that leave you exhausted by the twenty minute mark. SVALBARD also has an ear for melody that fights typical metal fatigue. I won’t get tired of listening to this one.

32- Silver Tongue by TORRES

After the bizarre, cryptic disappointment of Three Futures, it didn’t seem clear where TORRES would head. On Silver Tongue she appears to continue a confident journey in her own direction, but with a bit more focus and lot more precision. Where Three Futures was too disorienting to follow and often too indulgent for the listener to feel at all involved, Silver Tongue extends an olive branch—grab hold and you’ll be taken on a strange, glitchy and melodic journey into psychedelic pop rock. While the songs lack warmth, that seems to be the point entirely. There’s a magic in the cold and dreary walls that TORRES builds on the record that impresses with every subsequent listen.

31- The Baby by Samia

A tremendous indie-rock record with some of the most excitement build-ups and hooks of anything released in 2020. Samia sings about some of the bleak realities of sexual frivolity in one’s twenties, while still somehow gloating about her vinegar and kale diets (all tongue in cheek). There are clear standout tracks (Big Wheel, Fit n Full, Minnesota) – but where Samia shines, and where she separates herself from her cohort of indie rock darlings (see: Soccer Mommy, Snail Mail, Clairo) is how well her slower ballads, such as Does not Heal, land. She is a superior song writer in many respects and has everything ahead of her.

30- Live Forever by Bartees Strange

A very surreal, genre bending record from newcomer Bartees Strange. Live Forever sounds like totally different music depending on which track you’re on. You have some Death Cab. You have some Bon Iver. You have some Joey Badass? It’s a strange journey through an eclectic, cluttered and heavily talented musical mind.

29- The Ascension by Sufjan Stevens

While the record as a whole underwhelmed me, Sufjan is still Sufjan. If this record was made by any other artist I’d be telling everyone about it. Many of the sounds felt a bit too familiar, which put me off just a touch. There are still unbelievable moments on this record: the layers on Make Me an Offer/ the dance-pop qualities of Video Game/ the swelling choir section of Tell Me You Love Me/ the build up of tension in The Ascension. There are the more confounding moments: Death Star as a song and not as parody/ Sugar as a slapstick suggestion of romance. Frankly I’m not all that blown away by the lead single, and nearly 13 minute odyssey, America—but I can understand how it operates as a statement of frustration and raw emotion. Nonetheless, Sufjan continues to occupy a space that, while at times mystifying, still leaves you entranced by the mystique of it all. We always leave wanting more, even if we’ve had a bit too much.

28- Set My Heart on Fire Immediately by Perfume Genius

A gorgeous and lush assembly of songs that feel very personal to PG. The songs are grand, yet surprisingly intimate. One frustration with the songs that I’m still struggling to come to terms with, is that they seem very distant from the listener. We’re not invited into the experiences that the songs discuss—they seem isolated and tethered to the artist. That was likely a conscious decision and suits the subject matter well. Still, for all the warmth and atmosphere—you wish you could go along for the ride. Perfume Genius seems content on operating on their own planet—as we listen through frequency.

27- Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa

This was certainly the year of Dua. She seems to have realized her final form and it’s truly a great thing to witness and listen to. Future Nostalgia plays out as an exceptional throwback pop record in a pop era dominated by future/hyper industrial production. These songs are poppy and unashamed to be exactly what they are. With the exception of the clumsy songs that bookend the record (the title track is a lacklustre open & Boys Will Be Boys attempts to tie in a loose, feminist concept to the record)—the album as a whole is jam packed with immense hooks. Let’s hope Dua hasn’t peaked because there is so much to love and groove to on this record.

26- KG by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

Another instalment of the King Gizzard microtonal series. Unlike Flying Microtonal Banana, KG tends to hit harder and land smoother. There is a ton of groove on this bad boy that gets you comfortably settled, until the boys shake it up with some eclectic, middle east inspired arrangement. The beauty of KG is how you are never allowed to settle into something for too long. You’re almost always moving on to another segment, idea and branch of music that makes you feel...weird. Thanks guys!

25- Quelle by BRIQUEVILLE

A haunting, drone fuelled romp in the spooky room. Quelle almost puts you to sleep until it urgently shakes you awake with a thunderous riff. It’s clear that every moment of the record is laboured over, every decision painstakingly made. There are moments taken straight out of your favorite horror film, yet the album manages to pull you in closer instead of pushing you away. Bold choices pay off for BRIQUEVILLE on this one, as we enter their world, and almost don’t manage to make it out.

24- Lianne La Havas S/T

LLH self titles a record that sees her reaching back to a more stripped down, jam-based sound. There are some absolute bleeders on here that see her voice reaching registers she hasn’t covered on previous releases. The live-band recording works in her favor, as the instrumentation is loose enough to create a mood but still manages to quickly snap back to tight and precise progressions. Anchored by a well-executed Radiohead cover (Weird Fishes) the record has a strong b-side to match its grand opening half. The hypnotic qualities of many of the tracks are an especially fun element to the release as the jams tend to work you up wherever you are. La Havas has something very special on her hands with this record, and it’s one I will continue to share for years to come.

23- Omens by Elder

A softer and, dare I say, poppier release from stoner rock fiends Elder was a welcome addition to music in 2020. There are many long form jams on this record that open themselves up to synths—and while it seems they haven’t totally mastered how to integrate more electronic segments into their riffage, the moods are still tight as hell. Give it a spin with some decent headphones and you won’t be disappointed.

22- Miss Anthropocene by Grimes

You can try as hard as you’d like to root against Grimes but her music speaks for itself. I looked for ways to tell myself that she had finally waned or has become less inspired—but it’s just not true—she is finely tuned to whatever wavelength is firing on her alien planet. On MA the songs have more space to breathe, often meandering within themselves for over six minutes, until she hits you with a straightforward pop rock track that is so well produced and contains such a great vocal performance, that you simply cannot deny that we have yet another excellent release. It’s freaky, it’s haunting, it’s weird, and at times it’s even pleasurably comic. Grimes is doing it all and she is doing it on exactly her terms. We should expect nothing less.

21- Rough and Rowdy Ways by Bob Dylan

I won’t pretend to be an expert on Bob Dylan’s catalogue. Nor will I pretend that I know what makes Bob Dylan good or bad. All I know is that Rough and Rowdy ways has great songs that back beautiful poetry. It’s consistently captivating and often, terribly sad. The final track, Murder Most Foul, may be one of the most potent, historical epics ever put to music. All in all, Bob Dylan has something deeply interesting to add to our weird, chaotic, and just plain shitty times.

20- Superstar by Caroline Rose

The last show I went to was the album release of this record and it absolutely killed. Playing the record front to back, Caroline Rose will always be the pre-pandemic gig that symbolized the lightning before the thunder. Superstar is an excellent concept album about a fictionalized Caroline travelling across country with hopes of become…well… a superstar. Along the way she tosses and turns in a relationship, eviscerates doubt and self-loathing by replacing it with boisterous egotism, and manages to find herself at a finish line exhausted, and yet surprisingly having still learned something. The tracks on this record blend seamlessly into one another as Rose manages to coalesce the synth-rock madness we are used to with tighter song writing and more lyrical purpose. Caroline Rose may have just ended up what she wanted to be along.

19- The New Abnormal by The Strokes

Everybody talks about a timeless quality that The Strokes early records have and it seems every record they have made since their first two have been made with the purpose of dispelling that very notion. The fact of the matter is, that timeless quality is what has endeared them to fans for two decades. The New Abnormal recaptures their earlier spirit. Sure, there are indulgent nods to the 80s that they seem obsessed with (sometimes to a fault)—with songs like Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus and Eternal Summer. Those songs likely work better in front of a crowd, and tend to actually crowd the record itself. Yet, there is no denying that there are excellent STROKES SONGS on this record that make you feel the way you felt listening to their first two records. The Adults are Talking is an immediate entrance into what made you love them to begin with, and Selfless follows as one of their prettiest ‘ballads’. Not the Same Anymore and Ode to the Mets close the record on an extremely high note, harkening back to the warmth of Room on Fire, with more mature and independent song structures. The true testament to the band’s growth is with their first single At the Door—which is an epic that ebbs and flows through wild croons and jagged synths, asking you to sit down and believe in the song itself. It’s as if The Strokes have been asking us to simply trust them all along.

18- UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry and Kenny Beats

This is exactly it. Two masters collaborating in what might be their respective primes. It’s so packed, saturated, concentrated, condensed it almost seems like if it were any longer it would make our heads explode. They found the hip hop secret and managed to unlock it for us. While this may qualify as an EP it is an album’s worth of brilliance. It slaps from beginning to end with Kenny Beats saving his best instrumentals that masquerade as demos. Don’t get me wrong—these are brilliant templates for Denzel to cruise along to. Except Denzel does nothing close to cruising, he sets the road on goddamn fire. While Denzel is namedropping Rosa Parks and Don Corleone while recommending his haters go on a diet, he is playful in the same way Joe Pesci was playful in Goodfellas. With every subsequent verse Denzel is requiring that you answer the question: i’m funny how? You are certainly no clown! We swear!

17- NO DREAM by Jeff Rosenstock

NO DREAM friggin’ rules dude! It took a bunch of listens for me to get the hang of it. I especially felt resistant to the opening track and how the record begins by pummelling you with punk chords—but that’s where Rosenstock is, so you just have to take it. NO DREAM is about giving up on settling for less. Rosenstock yells about hometown washouts, he yells about road trips, he yells about dopes who don’t believe in climate change. But you really feel something once Rosenstock starts to regret some of those lost loves. Maybe he could have behaved. Maybe he reacted too quickly. Maybe he made choices he never thought he’d make. Haven’t we all thought that? NO DREAM is a masterful punk rock record that maintains goofy, crazy, hilarious and fun traits that all good punk records need while providing us with heart that Rosenstock has never shown us before.

16- We Will Always Love You by The Avalanches

Well, they did it again and snuck in there at the final hour. The Avalanches’ third record is a groovy, cold weather house record, bookended by some sort of intergalactic nonsense. Ultimately, the nothingness means everything, as there is an incredible amount of feeling that rests in the pieced together samples. Features from MGMT, Kurt Vile, Leon Bridges, Denzel Curry and even Rivers Cuomo only add to the madness. While the run-time is a bit long, the songs are quick enough to carry you through swiftly on your back. The Avalanches have once again offered us hypnotic, dream-like listening, perhaps when we needed it most.

15- Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

Bridgers has this very special quality about her song writing, where it feels like she’s pulling you close to tell you something and then whispers into your ear a secret that you knew all along. She then pats you on the shoulder, nods her head, and says good luck- all with a smirk. Bridgers has secrets we don’t have, and that’s what makes her music equal parts haunting and gorgeous. The melodies on Punisher remain in your head for months and while they are deadly serious they also reassure you with a “hey, you know this is just a song, right?”. Songs like Chinese Satellite offer more complex arrangements that are made full (but not heavy!) with string section embellishments. Halloween is the small town folk song about a place you just had to be there to understand. Graceland Too offers a nice release from the shadows that loom all over the record, although it’s never in too much sunlight to become a distraction. The entire album flows effortlessly, and before you know it you’ve reached the breathy scream and laughter at the end of epic closer I Know The End. Life is a game that Phoebe Bridgers is watching us all take bets on. She’ll remind us how it all played out later.

14- Find the Sun by Deradoorian

These songs are odd, cyclical, hypnotic. The vocals are static and often emotionless. Find the Sun is a masterpiece taken directly from 1972—but thank god it was here to lull us into paralysis in 2020. None of the songs are direct injections, instead they are slow-release capsules that require you to take your time. Opener Red Den has a standard song structure (an anomaly), but still has a haunting, looping chorus that is interpolated with a second chorus that rests three levels lower. Perhaps the most direct track is almost impossible to describe. These songs are riddles or rubix cubes or those goddamn magic eye paintings that you have to look at for three hours to make out a boat (I see you, Mallrats). Deradoorian crafts an album that, despite requiring a certain degree of passive effort (huh?), still goes down smooth. Although clearly inspired by CAN, there is nothing frustrating here that forces you to concede that “maybe art doesn’t need to be understood, man”. This is a gorgeously pieced together album of psych/folk/rock that has earned its place on the mantle.

13- What’s Your Pleasure by Jessie Ware

A dangerously good pop record that throws you back to the 80s with disco inspired flourishes. Some parts Robyn, some parts Madonna. Jessie Ware has a sound that grows past merely reproducing the music that has inspired her. There are curious and inventive details in songs (like the chorus in Ooh La La or the harmonized layers in the verses of The Kill). The songs take you to groovy heights with their detail, but the record also has some straightforward, power thru dance tracks like Read My Lips that anchor it, never letting you forget that this was meant to be danced to with others. What’s Your Pleasure is a beautifully woven pop masterpiece that never lets you go.

12- Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was by Bright Eyes

Bright eyes is back. This record is an exciting return for the band, one that captures the misery and mysticism that surrounds our age of impending doom. Got to keep on going like it ain’t the end/ got to change like your life is depending on it-- is the first verse we hear from Conor and he never truly lets go of the sentiment. All the tracks are haunted by his past, the bleak world we live in, and the thought of trying to work out a way to make it through the days that feel like years. Down in the Weeds comes out after nine years away from the band, time Conor spent getting married and divorced, and sadly also losing his brother. These happenings find themselves scattered all over the record, as Conor is hesitant to reference them directly, but instead allows them to haunt tracks like ghosts. The instrumentation from Mogis and Walcott is fuller than other Bright Eyes records, the sounds more diverse. If someone asked what Bright Eyes sounds like one could legitimately offer this record as evidence—it is a distillation of many sounds across their entire catalogue. Ultimately what Down in the Weeds does best is remind us that the will to continue through the world is what makes us distinctly human, but also what makes us closer to something greater, something beyond everything. She doesn’t know what a comet does/ you’re approaching as you disappear-- is what we hear on the closing track Comet Song. Bright Eyes brings us closer to a truth we always knew would be just out of reach.

11- Death by Coastlands

Aptly named, Death is a record about endings. Heart wrenching, devastating, finite and yet oddly satisfying endings. There are very sparing vocals on the record, but the instrumentation offers more feeling than any hardcore record this year. The pacing of songs like Dead Friends, the haunting choir that looms over Marrow, or the breaking of tensions that erupts out of Red Smoke Flare. This record doesn’t need words to evoke feelings of peril, urgency and grief.

10- Songs by Adrianne Lenker

On not a lot, just forever, Adriane Lenker sings and I want to be your wife/so I hold you to my knife. This line arrives as plea instead of a threat—on an album filled with songs where Lenker reckons with her desperation. She pleas with the past for lost time returned, she pleas with her lovers for mistake forgiven, she pleas with herself for the possibility of change. When added to her catalogue with Big Thief, Songs proves that Adrianne Lenker may be the supreme song writer of our generation. On Anything she describes staring down the barrel of a hot sun as if the imagery were a familiar expression. Lenker tosses poetry at us like she might throw a frisbee. Even if we were positioned well enough to catch it, we could never throw it back, we are lucky to have it all.

09- Host by Cults

Host didn’t feel like much on my first listen. But it kept burrowing endlessly into my brain. Now I’m waking up in the middle of the night singing the melodies on my way to go pee (No Risk! No Believing! Or Leading...). They nailed all of it. The song writing is crisp. The production is electric and soothing. They lull you to a peaceful calm with lullaby sounding tracks like No Risk. When things are just about to get repetitive they shake you out of your dream state (see: Like I Do). Every track on the record is a standout, but it can only truly be appreciated as one complete, masterful piece of music.

08- how I’m feeling now by Charli XCX

Sure—it’s a bit of a pandemic time capsule. But holy shit. Charli made this absolute batshit hyperpop record in a month during lockdown. It is truly an unrelenting pinnacle of future pop that will hold up long past this absolute shit show of an era has passed. Charli has this way of making an unsettling listening experience that is also absurdly danceable. There are moments of insane pleasure, unhinged anxiety and bombastic ecstasy. From the promise of once again being together in forever to the claustrophobic realities of quarantine in enemy she covers the entire experience. These songs really stand alone as brilliant testaments to Charli’s prowess. There is no stopping her as an artist at this point. Oh, and she also did us a tremendous solid by making a danceable record about how we miss dancing together. God bless you Charli, baby.

07- Ohms by Deftones

This year needed this record. Something loud and clear as hard rock punishment. Deftones have what I believe to be their best record. Their sound has never been more crisp, focused or melodic. There are definitely new areas that Deftones explore on this record. From Spell of Mathematics to the title track—there’s a sharp attitude that plunges into their already excellent formula. The little details and flourishes of synth in songs like Genesis and Pompeji make all the difference (the latter’s transition into This Link Is Dead a clear standout)—allowing the record to breath and the listener to feel overwhelmed with, might I say, the world they have created. The album is full of beautiful moments of focus that keep the tension the band has built and cultivated for over a decade.

06- Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple

Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a record that maybe wasn’t for me at all. I firmly believe that women understand more of this record than I ever could. There’s so much brilliance in the pots and pans percussion that accompanies most tracks. There’s an energy that studio drums could never bring. And well, the songwriting speaks for itself. It’s an undeniable culmination of all of her influences. Fiona Apple is a songwriter that simply doesn’t exist anymore (some of her cohort has actually, sadly, died).

The most valuable lesson Fiona teaches us is that there is no perfect way to get over anything. But we are meant to wrestle with endings. Maybe we are all meant to move on. Making friends, sneering at enemies. Like beasts in the wild. Life might be one big game of axis and allies. Like Fiona walking on her way to school, we “grind our teeth to a rhythm invisible”. This record proves that we should each bring our mouthguard.

05- Every Bad by Porridge Radio

Every Bad is the room that your loneliness goes inside of to scream. Porridge Radio has an absolute masterpiece on their hands. Absolutely punishing lines that carve away your own anxiety with excellent songs that switch things around constantly. There isn’t a single stale song on the record and yet they work so cohesively. Every Bad is constantly asking us to self-examine, to dig a little deeper. What is going on with me? Is the first lyric you hear on the record. I’m coming home is the last. The record spans the cycle of existential dread guiding you through difficult choices and it could not have come at a better time.

04- St. Cloud by Waxahatchee

I think I like Americana music. I probably knew that when I couldn’t resist the sing-along qualities of Killers records like Sam’s Town or Battle Born—but Crutchfield’s 2020 record has solidified for me. The writing here is too good to be true. Equal parts poetry and melody, her voice has this raw quality that really carries home when she plays up the southern twangs and drawls. The album feels obsessed with new beginnings after brutal endings. Hometowns on fire and the power of choosing to move on. The lyrics still feel haunted by the weight of memory (St. Cloud), and the anxiety surrounding what might come next (Ruby Falls), but the fresh approach to song writing has Waxahatchee sounding the best they ever have.

03- RTJ 4 by Run the Jewels

They did it again. Not much to say here. It never gets old and it never feels stale. The records still feel like their own distinct hip-hop manifestos. The boys seems just as angry as they always did. The album arrived in the midst of a revolutionary cloud that hung over the world. The album is proof that we should expect it to remain overcast. The production on this thing is just as sleek, with El-P switching things up in bold ways on tracks like Goonies vs. ET. Some of the older tricks are used again, we have our comedown track with Pulling the Pin, we have our rock sample track with The Ground Below, we have our standout single with Ooh La La. The predictability of these songs may sound as if the album is formulaic but that’s beside the point. The fist will still knock your ass down, even if you knew it was coming. A truly loving element to the record is the bond that Killer Mike and El-P foster with each other through their alter-ego characters Yankee and The Brave- you can’t help but bask in their romance. The opening track is a blunt reminder that, in case you forgot, these guys are still here for another eleven rounds. The closing track solidifies the truth that they aren’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. And nor should they. We need Run the Jewels more than ever.

02- Captured Spirits by Mammal Hands

Mammal Hands came out of nowhere and blew my goddamn mind. I have no deep connection with Jazz as a genre, but by god did this record force me to go digging. It’s the type of accessible, energy driven music that makes you cozy and comfortable until it rips your goddamn ears off with sax solos and manic piano arrangements. While the latter half of the record doesn’t manage to match quite the same energy as first half standouts like Late Bloomer or Riddle—the beauty of the record is in its assured sense of pace. We’ll get to the good part, but on their time. Mammal Hands know what they’re doing.

01- Women in Music Pt. III by HAIM

HAIM have found, executed, and perfected their sound all in one album. WIMPIII is a masterwork that shockingly happened all at once. Where previous albums Days Are Gone and Something To Tell You may have excited with the promise of what could come next, this record stuns you with what is happening right before your eyes. The confidence that the sisters share on the album’s cover shines through on all the tracks. They know who they are and they know how they sound. I Know Alone is a perfect example of refined song writing, with subtle production touches (especially in the percussion) that add something extraordinarily dynamic. Up From A Dream and Gasoline are the pure rockers that you knew the band was capable of, but that they never before capitalized on. There are softer, more romantic folk tracks like The Steps and Leaning on You that might make your parents cry. Spanning a wide range of topics (depression, lost loves, home, isolation) the album fit so perfectly with our insane year—but the sound, summery and sheen, will manage to stand the test of time. There was initial frustration with the choice not to include singles Now I’m In It, Hallelujah & Summer Girl within the formal track list (because on any record they are the strongest songs!)—but with further consideration, their inclusion as bonus tracks make perfect sense. HAIM has crafted 13 gorgeous, smart and powerful songs that stand alone, together. Those bonus tracks just act as a mind-blowing encore. Women in Music Pt. III is the most dynamic, focused and well-written record of 2020. We dare not ask for better.

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lady-plantagenet · 4 years

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Unsolicited Book Reviews (n2): Death be Pardoner to Me

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account, I tended to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic. Certain books are either severely underrepresented, where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others, though talked about enough, something more can still be said about them. So for my quarantine fun, I have decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Since the author claims this book is written through her channelling of George Duke of Clarence, I don’t know if I should approach this as a historical fiction review or otherwise. Regardless, well-written and very balanced. The voice throughout was similar to how I pictured the real George of Clarence. Nevertheless, I deduct one star because I have noticed some innacuracies. Whether this discounts the veracity of the author’s claim - I leave it up to you. Despite how dodgy this book may appear, it has gotten very good reviews online and I do assure you it is not trashy or melodramatic at all; it is high quality compared to most modern histfic and other genre fictions in its prose and psychological insight.

Plot: So what essentially happens is, we get a fictionalist account (albeit a very short one) of George’s life. The book’s chapters are split between 1st person (where he (George) intimates what he felt and what thought during an event) and 3rd person limited POV. The author claims that the entire book is told in his own words but I suppose the background descriptions and such in the 3rd person chapters were her own words. We get basically every major event in his life (birth, childhood, marriage, rebellion and death) and some in-between. The in-between moments were by far my favourites as they are what added depth to what is essentially this character analysis (because we all know what he did, we are now interested in why). I was happy to see a lot of little details in this book were confirmed by my research (Caxton dedicating him a book, his penchant for fine clothing, his suffering of headaches (maybe after suffering the recorded head injury at Barnet) etc), his gift for legal arguments (I obviously squealed when I found that out) so I did end up learning something.

On the other hand, I would have wanted an account of the time he spend with Louis XI, Margaret of Anjou, Anne Neville and Jasper Tudor and what he thought and said. I would have also wanted more insight into the whole Burdett and Stacey debacle, not to mention his relationship with Sir Roger Tocotes: the old friend who though was apparently part of the whole poisoning Isabel scheme, Clarence could not bring himself to execute. Warwick surprisingly doesn’t feature very heavily either, nor does Isabel enough. But I’ll take what I can get when it comes to his particular historical figure.

Characterisation/ Historical Accuracy: As I’ve said, since the author claims to be a medium (I shall not comment on this as I myself am undecided on where I stand) any incongruency cannot be taken as merely artistic licence. So, the voice of George (which I suppose has been transcribed into our contemporary speech so we can understand what he says) feels very true to the character. His attitude towards things definitely sounds like a man from the 15th century. He is more reasonable now, than he would be if he were telling us his story during the action itself, because a lot of the book is told through the spirits (?) hindsight. Nevertheless, you do feel as if you were with the character while everything unfolded. The portrayal is more sympathetic than in other novels, nevertheless, he is no Gary Stu or major victim. He is portrayed as someone with genuine principles, intelligence, capable of some love towards other while also being deluded by his own self-importance, sometimes irrational and judgmental. So more or less a real and complex person.

On the other hand, some claims in this novel are quite bold but though unsubstantiated are not strictly speaking innacurate (I won’t spoil here, but if anyone has zero plans of reading this book but regardless wants to know what I mean PM me). One thing that made me deduct one star was this one blatant innacuracy: Ankarette Twynyho’s portrayal as a young woman, when we know that by the time she reached Clarence’s household she had a grandson (John Twynyho who petitioned Edward IV for a posthumous parson). There was also the implausible suggestion that George would not allow for in his household to be said that Richard of Gloucester married Anne Neville for her money (which though spirit George may in retrospect believe he loved her, 15th century George would at worst have been the one starting those rumours and at best, would not have cared). However, the latter unlike the former isn’t disprovable beyond doubt - but still I can somehow feel the Richardianism from the author seep in a bit. It actually has quite blatantly in a couple of instances. For example the suggestion that Richard visited him in the Tower (which I am 90% sure could not have happened). I do believe George and Richard loved each other in some weird twisted way since they were raised together and brothers, but I genuinely don’t believe it was so conscious on either’s part. Also, Isabel Neville was described as very ill from the birth of Richard of Clarence, but as we all know she was actually really well after the birth, she did not die of childbed fever. This is precisely why Clarence thought poisoning could have taken place. Isabel and George’s relationship as a whole was rather sad, and a part of me hopes this is all a hoax just so I can hope they were happier together in real life.

Prose: You may be surprised to know that the prose is actually still better than the vast majority of historical fiction novels. It flows well throughout, the dialogue is engaging and realistic, the descriptions of places and things (what in my opinion is essential for a period novel) is really well done but not too embellished. Certain scenes seriously gave me the feels (happens rarely), but then again it is hard to know if my reaction is more to do with the draw I have towards George in general than the author’s craft - regardless, I still think it is better literary wise than anything Weir or most popular histfics ever wrote, though obviously does not hold a candle to Jarman, Lytton-Bulwer or Scott. But then again, this was not even intended to be a novel in the classical sense. This is where half of the stars come from whereas the others come from insightfulness (as it did give me some avenues of research). There is also a semi-mystical theme throughout (as you would expect from a medium) but it is very subtle and not at all TWQ-esque, an honestly - it is plausible as we do need to keep in mind that medieval people did all believe in Angels, spirits and such. I think this added a nice flavour in some scenes.

Overall, this novel believable or not was much-needed. Too much is written about Richard III and the others. When a mutual told me of it I obvs could not resist haha. Since it was so short (around 200 pages with fairly large font) I think I might go ahead and purchase her Anthony Woodville one too (imagine my luck: two of my favourite historical figures got books).

#lady-plantagenet’s book reviews #death be pardoner to me #the wars of the roses #george of clarence #george duke of clarence #the white queen #dorothy davies

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emma-poole · 4 years

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I’ve been eating at diners by myself lately, thinking about the state of my life while stuffing back forkfuls of lasagna and boats of french fries. Something about the oversized display of baked goods comforts me, how there seems to be a dessert for every preference, the lingering smell of confectioners sugar and syrupy fruit. All the old men at the counter are on their phones. They are propped on their elbows, sipping lukewarm mugs of coffee, gazing up only to look at what I’ve ordered. I come here to be alone in the company of others, to hear my thank you answered by sweetheart and eat weird combinations of food without anyone commenting on my choices. I love the excess of a diner menu; giant, spiral-bound, breakfast all day, sides of blue cheese dressing pre-prepared in tiny plastic cups, overflowing salads. Everything is familiar, and promised. Diners are a good place to visit when you need certainty.

•

I spent a lot of time on the M train this Fall. It’s a pleasant ride, specifically between Essex and Marcy, when Manhattan becomes Brooklyn, and out of a dark tunnel a hopeful sky appears. I took a lot of ubers after midnight, falling asleep as the East River zoomed by, jolted from having to leave a warm bed and body. I always apologized for keeping them waiting when I entered the car, stealing as much time as I could before saying goodbye to you. No problem, they’d whisper politely. They assumed I was you, and I didn’t correct them.

As with other inevitable truths, relationships have a way of marking their territory, creating significance in what was formerly an arbitrary place, route, expression, or menu item. I rode the M train to get to you. And now, all that is you exists in the ephemera of my memory.

I’m sipping drip coffee at Bluestone Lane on the Upper West side. The aesthetic here is dreamy; blue tile accented in lush succulents, (they may be fake?) sleek, modern lines, and menus that look like they were hand-dipped in cerulean watercolor. I have a corner bar seat. Among barista grade cartons of milk, mason jars full of coffee beans are embellished with tiny rainbow flags. Tap water is served in glass bottles. Everything is casual but intentional. Is this a Bluestone Lane review? Am I Frank Bruni?

The woman adjacent to me orders the same thing I do- soft scramble, toast, coffee. She adds bacon, which I debate but decide against at the last minute. She must smell my nostalgia because minutes later, she offers me a piece of hers just as I am finishing my plate. So that your last bite is perfect, she smiles. I graciously accept. The kindness of strangers! Wow. So smokey. Now I know. I thank her. She speaks to the employees with the easy candor of a regular. Her black turtleneck and black-rimmed glasses make her both blend in and stand out against the cafe’s crisp interior. Our interaction with each other, brief but intimate, is one of many New York moments I have lodged in a cozy nook of my brain. Memories pour in: the handsome older gentleman at the bar in midtown with the brightest blue eyes who opened up about his child sexual abuse. A drummer I met on a park bench in my early twenties, who I spent an entire magical day with, then briefly dated. Winter, an older woman on the subway squealing in delight at the flowers poking out of my grocery bag. I haven’t seen pussywillows in so long! They feel like Spring. Something magical happens when you’re not looking.

Each year during this time - the inbetween season when fall begins its slow hatch into winter, when days become darker and rotted pumpkins emerge on sidewalk corners blending in with the foliage, my inclination to reflect takes over. Somehow, this perfect coffee, in its mini glass carafe and tiny pitcher of cream- why are miniature things so satisfying?- stirs the overwhelming desire to consider: where I have been, where I am going, what has changed. I cup my hands around the warm mug, lower my face to the toasty aroma, and inhale.

Speaking of warm beverages, I’ve begun seeing someone who enjoys handing me homemade ones, usually of the tea variety, in small, tempered glassware. The gesture is hospitable and cozy, though he swears this is a year-round activity, not solely reserved for winter or freezing apartments. I like watching him putter around his kitchen, clanging spoons on saucepans and wiping grease with the dish towel he uses to wipe everything. He has a bidet, which delights me every time, and floor plants, half-gallon jugs of fancy Dr. Bronner’s soap perched at the top of his closet. I like the way he inhabits his home, even when there are clothes in every corner and old dishes in the sink. He apologizes for the mess each time I come over, slightly more dramatic in his delivery than necessary. He has a penchant for theatrics. In a couple of days, it will be clean again. He will wipe down countertops and burn scented oil that reminds me of the first night I spent there, on a warm summer evening just days before my 30th birthday. We drank hot tea on a hot night, and I made fun of him for living in Brooklyn and liking tea so much.

Still, months later, when he sets the glass in front of me, the sip feels like remembrance; warm, hopeful, familiar.

The shape of your face, you say, it’s beautiful. Compliments from you are rare. I ask you to repeat yourself.

•

The shape of your face is angular like the flat rooftops of Brooklyn, or a piece of sea glass poking out of sand. I see my ancestry in your olive skin, the way your oy is guttural.

•

They stare at me, the Hasidic men in your neighborhood. They don’t know I am one of them, kind of. I imagine reaching out and weaving my fingers through their tangly beards. I imagine they feel like a cross between steel wool and moss.

•

Moss is soft, like your beard. Surprising at first, but smooth to the touch. I resist the urge to pull all the white hairs out of your chin. I like them there, the way you have to look closely to see the salt speckle. I cup my hand around your jaw and kiss your adam’s apple.

•

When you go down on me, I close my eyes and focus on my breath. Your head bobs with the arch of my hips, but you are a buoy, steady. Sometimes we communicate best without words. I feel you when you’re not there in the slick when I walk. It’s the same slick that makes your mouth glow when you come up for air.

•

At times, this feels like a stubborn knot. Or a blocked windpipe; something that needs opening but only constricts more when fiddled with. Somewhere I am positive a loose thread exists.

•

In certain meditation visualizations, the image of a thread loosening is used to elicit the feeling of release. An uncoiling, so to speak.

•

Meditation exists to ease the ripples of the mind. It widens the gap between thought and action. Find something tangible to focus on, they say.

•

And so-

•

Right now I am breathing. The rain is a muted orchestra outside my window. I don’t know, but it’s ok. The skyline looks coziest when viewed from the inside of an apartment, under a marshmallow duvet, against flannel sheets. I still want my name in your mouth.

To try to describe my time with you feels like an injustice.

How could they possibly know the fragrant smell of your skin after sex?

How you snuck your hands in my armpits the first night we met, inhaling deeply, causing me to shriek, giggling but delighted that we shared the same perversion. How your eyes changed right after, possessed by something greater than your intellect. Your smell, you said, looking right at me, really turns me on.

To be wanted by you was a victory, and that was the problem.

•

I’ll be careful not to undermine our time together by emphasizing sex, because it was much more than that. But try to understand- it was the simplest way you let go. As a lover, you were all there; generous, passionate, present. As a partner, you kept yourself at a distance by picking and choosing the moments you allowed me in.

But-

You are the first man I have dated who completely embodies his femininity. This is not lost on me. I miss the way you coil your body around mine, how you let yourself be held, and weep openly for your mother. I miss you tenderly shampooing my hair in the shower, running your hands along my entire soapy body, kissing the hollow of my collarbone and throat. How you examined my flesh with the curiosity of a scientist and the awe of an artist seeing a masterpiece appear before his eyes. I miss your gross, your mess, your hunger. I dreamt of you last night and woke up thinking how bizarre it is that you know someone intimately and then you don’t. And now it seems I am writing to you, or for you, and that feels wrong, because this time and these realizations are mine and I am only just now reclaiming a world in which your essence doesn’t saturate every part.

•

There is a brief but intense period of time when the consequence of my decision will gnaw at me; sleep taunts, my mind reels. I used to think that the constant presence of another person on your mind alluded to some sort of fate; if I can’t stop thinking of them, they must be thinking of me. Now I realize, like anything, knowing someone becomes a habit, and habits must be unlearned.

For months, my fingers grew skilled at texting you nonsense throughout the day. I started seeing your name on building signs, subway ads, dreams. My body warmed to the thought of you. This is meant to be, I’d meditate on like a mantra.

And still-

I couldn’t figure out why my heart twisted in anxiety each time I thought about us. Why, when I imagined you as the father of my children, something we had talked about, the image felt fuzzy and always slightly out of reach. Why, years down the road, visualizing myself married to you, I had the overwhelming sensation that it would feel lonely.

You, so generous of spirit and warm in nature. Who brings people together and makes giant pots of tea. Who has so much to give beneath the fear that permeates your every move. It was very difficult to walk away from a world that you had opened to me. I often wonder how differently things would look if I hadn’t, though I no longer wish I made the other choice.

I’ve been meditating again. Not well, but it’s ok. Mostly, I think. Of you, of my choices, of this precious, challenging life.

Right now I am breathing. The rain is a muted orchestra outside my window. I know a little more than I did, and that feels like grace.

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carmenlire · 5 years

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Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 46

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“When you said it would take a few hours to get ready, I thought you were joking.”

Alec looks up at Magnus, who’s standing by the drink cart with a martini. Careful not to move his head too much, he raises a brow. “Why would I joke about that?”

Shrugging a little, Magnus takes a sip of gin before wandering over to the couch. He lowers himself gracefully, crossing one leg over the other while he studies him.

“I’ve never known you to take more than half an hour to get ready. I didn’t know it took so much. . . effort to make you look so good on the red carpet, darling.”

Magnus’s voice is teasing and Alec laughs, shaking his head before wincing as the hair stylist pointedly shifts his head back into position with a harrumph.

“Everything you see on the red carpet is a carefully planned illusion,” Alec says dryly. “It takes a village, don’t you know.”

“I’m getting the idea,” Magnus replies with an arch look.

Looking up as the makeup artist nears, the room falls to its busy silence. There are muttered directions and the team surrounding Alec works like a well oiled machine. Hair finishes after another half hour or so but he’s not allowed to look at the mirror until his makeup is complete.

From the corner of his eye, Alec sees Magnus’s brows almost fly off his face as the makeup artist comes back to his side with an eyeshadow palette.

With a faint grin, Alec prods his boyfriend. “Yes?”

“I thought when you said the makeup team would be here at four, you meant-- I don’t know. Foundation, maybe a bit of concealer. I didn’t expect actual makeup.”

Looking up at the artist’s instruction, Alec focuses on not blinking as eyeliner is applied to his lower lid.

“I wear makeup sometimes. It’s usually for work-- concerts, award shows-- but I’ve been known to occasionally sport some eyeliner when I’m in the mood.”

“You’re so full of surprises,” Magnus replies and Alec hears the smile in his voice.

He smiles a little to himself and the next little while passes in silence. Once his makeup is finished, his chair is turned toward the vanity that had been set up in their living room.

Leaning towards the mirror, Alec studies his image.

He likes it.

It’s nothing too brazen but tonight’s a big night and he’d wanted to add a little extra something for the Grammys. His eyeshadow is dark, smoky, and there’s sharp silver eyeliner complementing the black. It adds depth to his eyes and will go well with his outfit for the night.

Shaking the hands of the team, Alec heads to the bedroom and changes into his tuxedo. It’s one of three outfits he’ll wear by the end of the night. Reaching for one of two hangers, he looks up as Magnus walks into the room.

“Getting dressed now, too?”

“Since you’re finally ready, I thought that was my cue to get dressed,” Magnus teases as he takes the other tux off the rack.

They turn to face each other and Alec stills, letting Magnus study his red carpet look with sharp eyes.

“So,” he asks, breaking the spell of silence that seems to have fallen over them. “What do you think?”

Humming a little, Magnus gives his face a thorough onceover. “I like it,” he says after another moment. “You’re certainly going to make an impression.”

“That’s the goal.”

They both change into their suits and Alec shrugs into his jacket as he looks up, the breath knocked out of him at the sight of his boyfriend in purple.

“That looks even better on you than it did on the hanger.”

Smoothing down his shirt, Magnus preens a bit. “It is my first awards show and I’m accompanying the Alec Lightwood. I have to dress my best.”

“You could be wearing a burlap sack and still look edible.”

Raising a brow, Magnus echoes, “Edible, huh?”

“Yeah.” Alec’s voice lowers a bit as he nears him, just to place a kiss at the corner of his eye. “You’ll fit right in.”

Pulling back, Alec turns toward the door as he looks at Magnus over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for last minute alterations. You still need to finish your makeup right?”

Magnus waves him on. “Yes, I do. I’ll be out whenever I’m done.”

Alec takes his cue, grinning as he leaves their bedroom. Magnus had done his hair and most of his makeup earlier. There were just a few finishing touches to complete before they were ready to leave for Madison Square Garden.

Leaving him to it, Alec lets the design team fuss over his outfit, making sure it drapes perfectly over his frame. It’s nothing wild-- a standard black tuxedo with black satin trim. While he’d gone for more colorful or interesting suits in the past, Alec hadn’t wanted anything that screamed statement this year. He was only nominated in two categories-- Record and Song of the Year, respectively-- and was going more for moral support to a few friends than any real hope that he’d win.

Plus, he was looking forward to bringing Magnus. When he’d offered his plus one to his boyfriend, he’d been a little hesitant. It was the Grammys, for God’s sake. There was no mistaking that if Magnus accompanied him then they’d be inundated with press and scrutiny. Still, Alec reflects. He was looking forward to tonight. They’d do a few dozen interviews, sit and relax for a few hours, and then head to the after party at Pandemonium.

All in all, there were far worse ways to spend an evening.

To his delight, Magnus had readily accepted his invitation. Alec had offered to get a team for Magnus but his boyfriend had waved it away, exclaiming that he was more than capable of doing his own hair and makeup.

Alec had been beyond thrilled, however, when Magnus had let him take care of his outfit. They were both wearing custom pieces by Tom Ford-- and hadn’t those fittings been fun.

Magnus was a natural, following the designers instructions and they’d each went for styles that suited them. Magnus’s aubergine shirt had little embellishments with a textured black jacket that fit him like a dream.

Rolling his shoulders a little, Alec tries to release some pent up tension.

The past few days have been a whirlwind, what with rehearsals and last minute fittings and meetings with his label. Alec was performing his latest single tonight-- it’s been holding steady at number one since it’s drop back in the fall-- and hadn’t that been a delightful relief-- and his album is set to be released in just a few short months, with tour immediately following.

Ruefully reflecting that he’d had damn near a year to rest on his laurels, Alec knows that his life is about to kick back into high gear as he starts promo for this next record. After promo, he’s going to eat, breathe, and live this album as he tours for the next several months and while Alec’s ready to get back in the saddle, he’s a little wary, too.

It won’t be the first but it’ll definitely be a considerable adjustment for his relationship. Tour is grueling even when he’s enjoying himself, even when it’s easy. Alec has faith in them, though, that they can weather whatever life throws their way.

He has to, he thinks, or this thing is doomed before it even starts.

This performance tonight is a declaration of sorts. It’s his first real performance since early last summer-- damage control back in August doesn’t count-- and there are nerves he didn’t anticipate. This album was undeniably different to what he’s released in the past. It’s softer; it’s less gritty. It’s a love letter to Magnus, after all, and that’s far different than the songs he’s known for about partying and fucking and all around being the stereotypical elusive celebrity.

It’s him, though. It’s authentic as hell and Alec had been gratifyingly surprised at the reception the single had gotten. Released without promo, it’d reached number one in eighty four countries within the first six hours. It’s been at the top of Billboard since that first day and it’s been certified triple platinum in the meanwhile.

Not bad when this time last year, Alec had been feeling burnt out and damn near despondent over his writer’s block, over the pressure of performing when he didn’t know what his next step should be.

Laughing a little under his breath, Alec knows that he never could’ve anticipated Magnus and the effect he’d have on his music-- on his life.

Alec doesn’t notice as everyone takes a step back from him and he startles a little when arms reach around him, familiar in their familiarity.

“Where’d your mind go, darling?”

Shaking himself from his reveries, Alec smiles over at Magnus. “Just thinking about how this is the first Grammys I actually have a date.”

Watching as everyone finishes packing up, Alec hears his phone vibrate on the coffee table. Picking it up, he sees a text from Dave.

Ready whenever you are, boss.

Taking a deep breath, Alec turns to look at Magnus. “Dave’s downstairs.”

Magnus reaches over like he can sense Alec’s nerves and it’s ridiculous because he’s Alec fucking Lightwood. He’s been to dozens of awards shows over the years. He’s intimately acquainted with the carefully erected facade, knows the ins and outs and the behind the scenes fuckery that they’re all plagued with and this should just be another evening where he networks and performs and loses himself in vodka and dancing at the end of things.

It’s not, though. It’s a declaration professionally but it’s also a statement on his personal life.

Magnus is going to stand next to him for all the interviews. He’ll be asked questions-- and hadn’t that coaching with Lydia been fun-- and the public will really see him for the first time.

And there will be judgement.

His appearance will be remarked on and so will his answers. People won’t see Dr. Magnus Bane, professor. They’ll see Magnus, Alec’s boyfriend.

Alec’s under no illusions that the red carpet’s going to be anything but exhausting.

Still. This is his job and it’s his life and for better or worse, Magnus has thrown himself right alongside Alec come what may.

Realizing that he still hasn’t answered his boyfriend, Alec looks up, smiling a little as he sees Magnus watching him with that patient look that sneaks under his defenses.

“Are you sure,” he asks one last time. “Are you ready to throw yourself to the wolves?”

Are you sure about me?

While Alec and Magnus have stopped hiding their relationship, they’ve been infuriatingly tight-lipped about it to the media. There may be pictures of them holding hands or enjoying brunch, but neither have said a word about each other since Alec’s little damage control tour.

It’s a new stage and as new phases always are, it’s nerve wracking. This is the last barrier between Magnus and the rest of the world and Alec doesn’t take that lightly.

As his eyes meet Magnus’s, he sees his real question is clear. But Magnus doesn’t pull away, doesn’t change his mind.

Instead, he winks, reaching a hand up to smooth down his lapel. “Don’t think you’re going to offer to take me to my first Grammys and then try to back out of it, Alexander. I believe I was promised the celebrity experience?”

Alec laughs, wrapping his arms around Magnus’s waist to haul him closer. He hears the closing of the door and knows they’re alone now.

“I am a man of my word,” he murmurs, nosing along Magnus’s jaw.

Without warning, Magnus is pulling back and Alec opens eyes that have fallen shut as Magnus reaches for his hands, intertwining their fingers before taking a step back towards the door. He watches as Magnus tilts his head in that direction, affection overlaid with challenge.

“Shall we?”

Alec follows eagerly and they go down the elevator, and Alec almost runs into Magnus when he stops abruptly in the lobby.

“Alexander.”

Humming a little, Alec looks up from where he’d been staring at his ass to see what must have caused such a reaction. He grins when he realizes.

“Magnus.”

He throws an arm over his shoulders, leading him outside where Dave is holding open the back door to the limousine.

Nodding in his direction, Alec urges Magnus inside. He’s bemused as he sees Magnus shake his head a little as he follows but Alec doesn’t immediately slide into the backseat.

Instead, he stands just outside of it, looking over at Dave.

“Think you’ll win anything tonight?”

“Nah,” Alec replies with an easy grin. “An Arrow in the Dark won its awards last year. I only have one song up for anything but I’ve been on hiatus so damn long they’ve probably forgotten about me.”

Dave scoffs. “It’ll take more than six months for the world to forget about you, Mr. Lightwood. Not with your date this evening.”

Leveling his driver with a look, Alec asks sotto voce, “How many reporters are gonna be on my shit list by the end of the night, do you think?”

Laughing heartily, Dave just shakes his head as he shoos Alec into the car. “Don’t tempt fate, Boss. Always go into things on a positive note, that’s what I always say.”

Alec doesn’t deign to answer to that-- he and Dave have talked shit about too many in the industry to give credit to his response-- and he hears his driver chuckle as he closes the door behind him.

Settling into his seat, Alec glances over to see Magnus giving him an appraising look.

“You don’t do anything by half measures, do you?”

“It’s the Grammys, babe. There’s no such thing as half measures.”

With a raised brow, Magnus replies, “You would know, I suppose.”

Reaching over, Alec lays his hand on top of Magnus’s for a brief moment before flipping it over and interlacing their hands. He brings their joined hands up and kisses the back of Magnus’s hand, just above his rings.

“Are you excited?”

Leaning against him, Magnus plays with his fingers absently as he answers. “I can’t deny that I’m looking forward to seeing what it’s like actually being there, instead of just watching it through the television.” Looking up from under his lashes, Magnus smirks a little. “And I can’t wait to see you perform.”

“How’d you know I was performing,” Alec asks with a little noise of indignation. He’d been looking forward to surprising Magnus with it.

Magnus just sends him a deadpan look. “Forgetting that you’ve been oddly mum about how you’ve been spending your days for the past week and I’d have to be living under a rock not to hear the commercials on the radio and TV. They’ve listed your name along with half a dozen others set to perform tonight.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Alec says glumly before looking over. “I’ll be gone about half an hour during the show between costume changes and the actual performance. Think you can handle things without me?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage and even if, for some reason the hot seat gets a little too warm, I’ll have Simon there.”

“Definitely,” Alec says. “I’m so glad they seated us next to each other this year. Simon hates sitting with people he doesn’t know and this way you have someone to talk to during the lulls.”

“I only wish Raphael was attending, too. That would’ve been too much fun.”

Alec just looks at him. “Something tells me awards show will never be Raphael’s cup of tea.”

“How right you are, darling. Raphael despises this sort of thing. Whenever Catarina used to talk about these events, you could just see his eyes glaze over in a combination of boredom and horror.”

Switching topics, Magnus asks, “Do you think we’ll see Catarina tonight? She told me Ragnor and she hired a babysitter for the evening.”

“I’d imagine. I don’t know where their seats are but we’ll make sure to at least say hi.”

Before Alec quite knows it, they’re slowing down as they join the line of other celebrities waiting to be let out. While the Grammys alternated between here and L.A., Alec was glad to be on his home turf for the night.

Seeing them creep up to where they’re to be dropped off, at the start of the press frenzy, Alec brings Magnus’s chin up, wanting to make sure this moment holds the gravitas he feels it deserves.

“Remember what Lydia told us,” he starts warmly. “Thankfully she doesn’t like to micromanage the entirety of my press but she doesn’t want us--”

“Revealing everything. Yes, I know. We can talk a little, throw a few details out there, but we don’t want to spill our entire story. I was listening, you know,” Magnus teases him.

Letting his lips tip up into a faint smile, Alec continues, “I’m not going to harp on your every word. You can say whatever you want and I’ll have your back but I want to know if there’s anything you don’t want me to say up front?”

Magnus shakes his head. “I trust you, Alexander. I trust that you won’t go divulging our personal business to the entire world. Whatever you let slip, I’ll support you, too.”

Alec’s eyes warm at his boyfriend’s answer and then Dave is pulling up to the curb and he watches as Magnus takes a deep breath before almost bracing himself.

“Hey,” he soothes, turning so that he can run his arms over his shoulders. “Whatever’s waiting for us out there, I want you to know I love you and I’m so incredibly proud to stand next to you tonight. You’re the only one I want by my side. You can’t fuck this up, babe.”

Looking up, Magnus meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alec echoes on a breath. “I think it’s time we gave everyone what they want, don’t you?”

Alec’s relieved to see Magnus’s shoulders lose a bit of their tension and the grin at each other before Magnus is pulling him close for a desperate kiss.

When he pulls back, Alec opens his eyes and feels a little dazed at the sight in front of him.

“I love you so much, Alexander. Thank you for inviting me here, for thinking I’m worth it.”

“Don’t you know,” he asks softly, heart aching in the best damn way. “You’re worth everything.”

Letting the words hang in the backseat, Alec steps out of the limo. Almost immediately, he’s blinded by the flash of dozens of cameras and he throws them all an easy grin as he turns back to the car. Holding out a hand, he leans close as he murmurs, “Out of the frying pan?”

He’s delighted as Magnus laughs, as he lays his hand in Alec’s. “And into the fire,” he agrees.

If Alec thought the cacophony at his arrival was loud, it’s nothing compared to the dull roar of the reporter’s crowd when they realize that he’s brought a date-- that he’s brought Magnus.

Sliding a hand around Magnus’s waist, Alec leans close to to murmur in his ear, “Let me know if it becomes too much, okay?”

Looking over at Alec, Magnus raises a brow. “I think you’ll find I can handle myself just fine, darling.”

Alec’s grin ratchets up a notch and then they’re in line for interviews. To his surprise, Magnus is a natural. He knows when to play coy and Alec already knows his boyfriend is going to make the morning’s best dressed list.

Some reporters ask evasive, pointed questions but Alec handles them like a pro, not giving Magnus any opportunity to falter as he throws out such riveting information like if Magnus was still working, if there was any hope for his fans or if he was off the market for good, or how they split bills.

Thankfully, they’re mostly done when Alec sees one of his favorite faces in front of them. Turning his head so that his lips touch Magnus’s ear, Alec says, “Our next interviewer is a friend. You can relax with her.”

Magnus nods to show he’s heard and then Alec breaks away from where they’d been holding hands for most of the press walk. He takes a few steps away to stand in front of a photo spot. He poses for a few moments, just him, and when he glances over at Magnus it’s to see his boyfriend smiling at him.

Throwing him a wink, Alec sees more than hears Magnus laugh and so when he turns back to the cameras, his grin is a little more natural-- real-- than they usually are during these sorts of things. Not wanting to hog the spotlight, though, Alec quickly gestures for Magnus to join him, holding out a hand.

Magnus goes to his side without hesitating, lifting a hand to rest it over his chest while Alec’s arm goes around his middle, pulling him imperceptibly closer.

As he stands in front of dozens of reporters and cameras blind them, Alec feels something settle over him.

This is his life. While he often enjoys awards shows, they’ve also become ordinary. A chore that needs completed. Alec’s been around the block more times than he cares to count and it’s all old hat to him. It’s just another day at work.

It’s different today. Magnus is the one standing next to him, looking over at him with warm eyes whenever they have a moment to breathe and he doesn’t look on the edge of panic. No, he doesn’t look like he’s in desperate need of an exit. He stands next to Alec and he contributes beautifully to soundbites that will be buzzing around the internet tomorrow. He’s his regularly charming self that Alec fell for so long ago-- that he falls a little more in love with every day.

Finally, Alec sees their future. He can see them next year, five years from now. Ten. He sees Magnus teaching and the occasional gala and forty eight hours stolen from jampacked tours just to fly home and see Magnus-- or for Magnus to fly to whatever city he’s in just to see each other.

It’s all so painfully mundane yet extraordinary that Alec can’t breathe for a moment. For the first time, everything seems not like a desperate wish but something they have a shot at after all.

He guides them to the next reporter on autopilot, shaking off epiphanies and he grins as he sees a welcome face.

He sees Magnus’s surprise as he leans in for a quick hug. “Evening, ladies.”

Laughing, Aline hugs him back. “Evening, Alec!” She pulls back and Alec doesn’t try to hide his smile as his cousin goes to hug Magnus next.

Magnus warms up quickly, staring over Aline’s shoulder with bemused eyes.

Shrugging a little, Alec says, “Did I forget to mention? Aline’s my cousin. She and Helen are my favorite reporters in New York.”

“Don’t lie, Lightwood. We’re your favorite reporters anywhere.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees easily and the next few minutes are the best so far. It’s far more relaxed than the other interviews and Aline knows what questions to ask and which to steer away from. He’s definitely a little disappointed when it’s time to move on.

Looking over his shoulder, Alec calls out, “Text me and we’ll get lunch sometime.”

“A double date,” Helen asks and Magnus nods with a grin.

“Count on it,” he replies and they hear Aline and Helen laugh behind them.

It’s not too much longer and they’re in Madison Square Garden. Alec’s just guiding them to their seating area when he hears someone shout his name and then Magnus is putting a hand to his chest to stop him.

Looking up, Alec scowls. “What are you doing here?”

Simon bounds up to them looking far too happy. He claps him on the shoulder before turning to Magnus to do the same.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m nominated for a Grammy the same as you tonight.”

Alec lets his expression ease into a faint smile and he doesn’t even grimace-- too much at least--as Simon pulls him into a hug.

“Nice suit,” he says, raising a brow at the maroon silk, but Simon doesn’t bat an eye, just smiles serenely.

“Nice eyeshadow.”

Alec barks out a laugh as he shakes his head ruefully, Magnus joining him as their hips bump into each other.

They walk to their seats together. MSG’s a dull roar as everyone socializes, as the fans talk amongst themselves.

He’s just about to sit down when Simon exclaims, “Wait!”

Pausing, Alec raises a brow. “Yeah?”

Waving at them, Simon says, “Let me get a pic of you two! It’s Magnus’s first Grammys and--” he throws a reassuring smile to Magnus as he continues, “I know how surreal it can be. Alec’s been to so many that it doesn’t even faze him anymore but you two will definitely want a picture to commemorate the occasion!”

Alec looks over at Magnus and they share a look before shrugging. They move until they’re standing in the aisle and Alec hands Simon his phone. Standing close, he’s smiling for the camera when something catches his eye. He turns to look at Magnus and he just can’t help himself.

He leans in and he’s smiling as he kisses his boyfriend. He hears Magnus make a sound of surprise, feels the faint hum against his lips, but he’s kissing back.

Just a moment and then Alec pulls back and he raises a hand to brush over Magnus’s cheek.

“Love you,” he says quietly, in the space between them.

“I love you, too.”

Abruptly remembering where they are, Alec turns back to Simon who’s watching them with a delighted gaze.

“I feel like a proud parent at prom,” Simon says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “You two are just too damned cute.”

Wondering for the millionth time why he’s best friends with Simon, Alec tries to glare at him, though even he can tell there’s next to no heat to it.

They take their seats after that and Simon leaves them alone as he makes his rounds. Alec takes out his phone when it’s just the two of them and Magnus leans close as he starts scrolling through the pictures Simon had just taken.

There’s about a thousand and it looks like Simon had just pressed the shutter every goddamn millisecond.

They decide on a photo and Alec types out the caption before posting.

It’s a picture of the two of them kissing. The caption reads everything’s better with a plus one.

The awards start not long after that Alec looks over a few times to see Magnus taking every detail in. When an attendant comes up to him a little while later and taps him on the shoulder, Alec nods before turning to his boyfriend.

Not wanting to disturb everyone, he leans close, whispering, “Hey babe, I have to go get ready. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

Magnus looks over at him, smiling a little before pulling him in with a quick kiss. “Break a leg, darling.”

Huffing out a laugh, Alec follows the attendant backstage. There, he’s escorted to his dressing room where he changed into his second outfit of the night. It’s just a black t-shirt under another black suit jacket with black leather accents. It perfectly complements his black leather pants and then he’s getting set up with his ear piece and mic pack.

Through the ear piece-- the custom ones he’d used last tour-- Alec hears the latest category announcement and listens to the pop star’s speech. He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet a few times before cracking his neck. He walks over to the stage and lets a dozen people fuss over him, making sure everything’s set as they adjust his mic and everyone rushes to their places.

He’s done this a thousand times before and he feels the familiar rush of energy flow into him. As nice as his break’s been, he has missed performing-- the rush, the heat, the energy-- and he’s looking forward to the next four minutes.

Hearing the celebrity who was announcing him, Alec tunes into her spiel.

“Our next performer is no stranger to this stage. He’s won eight Grammys, including last year’s Album of the Year for An Arrow in the Dark. That album would go on to win him three Grammys alone. The song he’s performing tonight is his lead single for his next album, expected this spring. Everyone give it up for Alec Lightwood!”

Alec grins as the crowd roars at him. Counting beats in his head, Alec looks up as the band starts playing the intro.

Since Feel Something is a slower song, it’s just Alec performing in front of a microphone. No background dancers or extravagant scenery, no one else except background vocals standing behind him. The lights are low, twisting shades of gray and wolf’s blue and Alec can’t see the crowd through the heat of the lights in his eyes.

So he closes them instead and sinks into a feeling he knows as well as breathing. It’s his first performance of anything new in over a year. There are always trials when performing new songs-- making sure he knows them inside and out can only go so far sometimes.

Luckily, everything goes wonderfully. He hits his notes and as the bridge comes around Alec takes his mic from its stand and pulls his ear plug out, wanting to hear the crowd without restriction.

He loses himself in performing and it’s all so beautifully familiar. The heat on his skin, the feeling of thousands of eyes on him, the euphoria of doing what he loves.

This song packs one hell of a punch as well and as Alec’s eyes close for the chorus, it feels like the emotions are being ripped out of him.

By the time the last note rings out, the chorus accompanying him echoing in the arena, Alec feels a little wrung out. It’s a combination of not performing in a little while and the sheer feeling that grabbed his throat and squeezed for those few minutes.

Alec slides the mic back into its stand as the stage lights go out around him, leaving him barely visible to everyone. He still hears the cheers, though, and they light a fire inside of him.

He’s still got it.

Walking backstage, one of the managers eagerly takes his mic pack and any other tech. He grabs a flute of champagne and downs it in one go, relishing the muted burn of alcohol. He heads back to his dressing room and takes a look in the mirror. His makeup is remarkably intact and it goes with his performance outfit so Alec doesn’t deign to change. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and with one last once over, leaves the dressing room.

It’s a commercial break when he slides back into his seat next to Magnus but his boyfriend barely glances over, all of his attention focused on something going on across the room.

“What’s happening,” Alec asks under his breath and he scowls as Simon reaches over and hits him with a hissed, “Shut up.”

Distractedly, Magnus replies, “A waiter spilled wine on an artist’s dress and she has to present an award soon. She’s giving him hell.”

Alec looks up and snorts softly as he sees who the star in question is. “She’s a bit of an ass. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her fault and she’s blaming the poor guy now.”

Relaxing in his seat now that his job for the evening is done, Alec reaches over and rests his hand on Magnus’s thigh. He tunes out the drama on the side of the room and instead people watches. He sees a few friends in the rows around him and he wonders if he’ll run into any of them at Pandemonium later.

As a celebrity hot spot, Pandemonium was going to be busy as hell tonight. Alec couldn’t wait.

Still, there were a couple of hours left at this shindig. Catarina wins a Grammy for a song she’d written and recorded for one of last year’s biggest films and Magnus is the first out of his seat as he claps for all he’s worth.

Alec stands next to him and it’s a little different-- sure he has friends in the industry but no one he’s so close to besides Simon. It’s a nice feeling to know that the artist deserves every bit of praise and some more besides.

As they sit back down, the next announcer steps up to the stand. Alec mostly tunes her out but he shakes his head a little when he sees a snippet of the Empty Hearts music video.

“And the winner for Song of the Year is. . . Alec Lightwood and Simon Lewis: Feel Something!”

Simon catapults out of his seat but it takes Alec a second to realize what’s just happened. He looks over to Magnus to see him grinning, laughing as he claps along with everyone else.

It’s like time fast forwards and then he’s standing and pulling Simon in for a bear hug. Simon holds on tight and Alec knows that he’s not imagining the breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob in his ear. Alec goes to follow Simon to the stage but at the last minute, he turns around and grabs Magnus by the lapels, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. It’s only a second before he breaks the kiss. He winks at Magnus-- who looks a little dazed-- and then continues his path.

While Alec had been primary songwriter, Simon had a credit on the song. Greeting the announcer, Simon takes the Grammy and holds it up, everyone laughing at his unbridled joy. Alec lets Simon take over the acceptance speech. It was his first Grammy, after all. While he’d been nominated a few times before, this was Simon’s very first win and Alec is more than willing to take a back seat and let his friend bask.

Simon’s speech is a little rambling and a lot endearing and by the time he finishes there’s no time for Alec to say anything. He waves to the crowd, touching his fingers to his mouth and blowing a kiss for an exuberant, heartfelt thanks.

It feels like just a few minutes later that his next category is being called and he feels Magnus tense beside him as the nominees for Record of the Year are announced, his face showing on the screen with the other four artists.

And the truth is, while Alec had downplayed his chances to everyone else, he wants this award. He’d just made the deadline for this single to be considered for the 2019 awards season and privately, he thinks his chances are good. He hasn’t released a music video for the song yet-- he was waiting to drop it with his album release-- but even without one, it had been staying steady on the charts. The past five months have been good to that song and his optimism for this next phase of his career and he’d love to be able to point to something tangible-- like an award-- and know that he was on the right track, that something different could still bring him gold.

Alec lets out quiet breath as announcer fiddles with the envelope, seemingly taking ages to open it. He feels Magnus lean close, hand on his thigh, and he relaxes the tiniest bit in his seat.

His eyes close when he feels his boyfriend’s breath on his ear. “While I have every confidence that your name is in that envelope, I want you to know we’re still going to celebrate handsomely tonight, Alexander.”

Without quite planning it, Alec’s grinning at Magnus’s words and a second later he hears his name being called out from the stage.

Eyes flying open, his first sight is Magnus. His smile is quieter but no less heartfelt and this time around, it’s him who pulls Alec close for a searing kiss, running a hand through his hair for a moment that runs white hot before he’s pulling back and all but shoving Alec towards the stage.

Clearing his throat, Alec tries to clear his head and as he passes around Simon’s seat, he sees his friend giving an exuberant thumbs up and smiling widely.

Walking to the stage solo, Alec works on his breathing, trying to calm his racing heart. It’s always a rush to win something-- let alone a fucking Grammy-- no matter what Simon might think.

He hugs the announcer, shaking their hand, and then he’s holding the little gold statue of a gramophone. He looks down at it and then up into the blinding lights and cheering crowd.

Alec leans down toward the mic, still sporting a smile, and starts his acceptance speech.

“What an incredible honor it is to receive this award tonight. I honestly didn’t expect this even if I secretly hoped,” he laughs and he hears everyone echo that laughter as he continues. “Feel Something is a little different to what I’m sure everyone’s used to from me. I’m glad you all like this new direction of my music and I’m eager to see everyone’s reactions when the album’s released in a few months. I’d like to thank my manager, Lydia, my team at Institute Records, my family for always having my back and-- one last person.”

Looking down, Alec gathers his thoughts before he lifts his head and makes eye contact with Magnus. His smile turns deeper, softer and everyone else in the room seems to vanish for a brief moment as he says, “He’s the reason that I’m holding this award tonight. When I met him, I’d just finished my world tour for An Arrow in the Dark and I was facing a turning point in my career. Truth be told, I was in crisis mode. And then I met him and he breathed new life into me and my music in a way that I never could have anticipated. So thank you, Magnus, for loving me and letting me love you. I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

Alec steps back from the mic, raising the award in a salute of sorts as he clears his throat again. He heads to the side entrance of the stage, entering backstage where he takes a few press photos before he’s allowed back to his seat.

When he finally gets back to Magnus, it’s to see his boyfriend talking animatedly with Simon. Sitting down, Alec barely opens his mouth before Magnus is kissing him. Immediately abandoning any thought of talking, he raises his free hand to cup Magnus’s face, shifting for a deeper angle.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that before Magnus pulls back. Alec looks up, catching his breath, only to lose it again when their eyes meet.

Magnus runs a thumb over his lip and Alec shudders.

“You really are extraordinary, aren’t you,” Magnus asks.

Alec’s voice is hoarse when he replies, “Every word, babe. I mean every goddamn word.”

He leans close and the kiss this time is softer, lingering. Alec gives up on paying attention to the show, clapping on autopilot when he hears everyone else do so.

His attention is far too full of Magnus to give a fuck about anything else.

Finally, finally, the show is over and everyone is escorted to their cars. There’s a bit of shuffling and they lose track of Simon-- though they do run into Catarina and Ragnor for a few moments waiting for their rides to pull up-- and then Alec and Magnus are climbing into their limo.

There’s an ice bucket there and Alec laughs when he sees what’s inside.

“What is it,” Magnus asks bemused.

“Lydia,” Alec replies shortly before he grabs two flutes. The bottle’s already been opened and he fills the glasses as Dave makes his painstaking way through traffic. “We have this tradition. Every time I win a Grammy, she surprises me with champagne for the ride to the after party.”

Magnus accepts his glass graciously, taking a sip while he eyes Alec over the rim. “That’s a lovely tradition. And definitely well deserved since you won not one but two awards tonight. That’s such an achievement, Alexander.”

Chuckling, Alec shakes his head ruefully. “I didn’t think I’d win either. Today’s turning out to be one hell of day.”

Magnus moves closer, coming to rest a hand on the side of his neck. “I’m proud of you, Alec. I know I’m a little biased but I love that song and you deserve recognition for it. You took a chance and-- well,” he trails off sheepishly. “I’m so happy that chance was worth it.”

Turning his head a little so that he can kiss the palm of Magnus’s hand, Alec sighs. “I’m happy you like it and that the world doesn’t hate it. That’s more than enough for me.”

“So the two Grammy’s aren’t really important?”

“Hey,” Alec says with a grin. “I didn’t say that.”

The two of them laugh, leaning into each other.

Traffic is brutal tonight, even for New York standards, and it takes almost an hour to get back to Magnus’s loft. Alec reaches for the champagne a few times, refilling his glass often since every time he looks down, it’s turned empty somehow.

He always tops off Magnus’s flute before his own and they spend the drive to their place talking quietly in the backseat. They can hear the radio playing in the front-- Dave’s always loved smooth jazz-- and it’s nice. Alec’s not already drunk, like he’s been known to be in the past and it’s nice, to be able to enjoy some calm in the storm.

Unlocking his phone, Alec sees a dozen texts of congratulations from his family and he laughs a little when he sees the dozen heart eye emojis accompanying Izzy’s message mentioning his acceptance speech. Opening Twitter, retweets a few links to news articles about his win and both he and Magnus making it onto the best dressed side of red carpet looks. He likes a few other tweets that are just fans talking about him and Magnus.

While there are a few posts that are bullshit, that are nasty and entitled and just plain wrong, there are far more people supporting Magnus, including one from a Twitter handle that makes him laugh out loud.

@prayformalec: omg did you see the way @AlecLightwood was looking at Magnus when he was talking about their first date? I got cavities just watching those two! And don’t get me started on the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other djfhgsdjsdfkh

@Alec_komh: Holy shit @AlecLightwood always looks amazing but can we talk about MAGNUS!!! Can he p l e a s e **** ** ****

Shaking his head a little, he shows Magnus that one and they both laugh at his fan’s exuberant support.

They make it back to Brooklyn and get ready for the after party. Magnus changes into a sheer maroon button down that he leaves undone to his fucking navel. Over that, he’s wearing a dark blue jacket and it leaves his chest-- and most of his abs-- on display. Alec watches as his boyfriend goes through his jewelry, deciding on a handful of necklaces in varying lengths.

Alec, for his part, stays in the leather pants he’d worn for his performance. He just switches his shirt for a see-through black lace one with a floral pattern. He’d bought it ages ago but was never in the mood to wear out. Giving a mental shrug, Alec figures tonight’s as good a time as any.

Cleaning up his makeup a little, Alec’s ready before Magnus. He heads to the living room to wait and ends up standing in front of the drink cart. He pours a finger or two of whiskey in a glass, taking his time as he drinks.

“Ready, darling?”

Alec looks up but doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he blinks. His gaze roves over his boyfriend and he swallows hard.

Magnus doesn’t seem to mind the silence. His mouth kicks up in a lazy grin as he walks over to him. Sliding fingers into the waistband of Alec’s pants, Magnus uses his free hand to snag Alec’s half-finished glass, swallowing the rest of it in one go.

He’s barely lowered the glass when Alec’s tipping his face up for a kiss. He’s dizzy with it, the taste of whiskey on Magnus’s tongue, the smell of his cologne, the sounds Magnus makes that he feels more than hears.

Half of him thinks about abandoning the rest of their plans for the night. His mind fills with images of stripping Magnus bare, laying him out on their bed, and spending hours trying to show Magnus how he makes him feel.

His rumination is fractured, though, as Magnus breaks the kiss, leaving Alec breathless and more than a little confused.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to see his boyfriend staring at him with amusement. “I do believe we have plans, Alexander. It wouldn’t do for us to get too carried away.”

“I think that’d be just fine,” Alec says, voice low in the quiet of their loft.

Magnus laughs a little before he brings Alec close for a smacking kiss on his lips. “Let’s go.”

Alec grumbles a little but it turns mostly for show as they head downstairs. Thankfully Pandemonium isn’t too far away and they’re pulling up to the front of the club a short while later.

Even through the blacked out windows, Alec sees hordes of paparazzi lingering on the sidewalk. The flashes from their cameras are a hundred starbursts and Alec rolls his eyes as he opens the door.

Almost immediately, the cameras turn to him. He ignores them as he turns back to escort Magnus out and without ceremony, he throws an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close to the side. Questions are shouted at him but Alec doesn’t even try to pick them out of the cacophony.

Nodding to the bouncer, there’s not a hitch in his step as the rope is pulled back to grant them access, allowing them to bypass the line stretched around the corner for those still waiting admittance.

The club is dark and full of flashing lights in a riot of color. He feels the bass in his chest and snags Magnus’s hands as he forces their way to the bar.

He’s immediately ordering half a dozen shots. Making way for Magnus, he hands one to his boyfriend and his gaze is struck by the way slender fingers pick up the shot glass, the way his throat works as he swallows.

They finish the shots in rapid succession and then it’s Magnus who’s pulling Alec onto the crowded dance floor.

The music is loud, drowning everything else out but the way Magnus feels against him. Lights bounce off highlighter, plays over his boyfriend until he’s covered in shifting shadows. Letting his hands rest on his hips, Alec pulls him closer.

He loses track of time quickly. There are more shots and the music doesn’t stop and Alec’s dizzy in a mix of low grade lust and top shelf liquor.

He knows people in the crowd, though, and he does rounds. Bringing Magnus with him, Alec introduces him to acquaintances and friends and-- to his surprise-- Magnus isn’t cowed by the dozen celebrities he talks to. He’s witty as ever, as irresistible as ever, and it’s a potent sight to see his boyfriend fit in seamlessly with another part of his life altogether.

Alec doesn’t remember quite how it happened, but the next thing he knows, he’s popping open a bottle a Dom Perignon. He has no goddamn clue where the cork is but it doesn’t matter. Bringing the bottle up to his lips, Alec drinks straight from the bottle before handing it over to Magnus who accepts it with an arch look, smug grin on his face as he tips it up and takes a healthy swig.

It’s all so much and it’s been ages since Alec felt like this-- like he was on top of the world, like nothing mattered except right now, here in the moment.

He’s won two fucking Grammys-- bringing his total up to ten-- and his album has been sent off to be mastered. He’s at the top of his game with no signs of that changing anytime soon.

He’s so in love he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s in love with the man in front of him and it’s all so overwhelming.

Time seems to slow for an imperceptible moment. His mind is hazy, the only thought he can catch Magnus, and so he pulls his boyfriend in, sliding a hand to his back. Leaning close, he kisses the pulse at Magnus’s throat and tastes salt. He sucks a bruise or three along unblemished skin, losing himself in the warm scent that lingers there.

One hand brings their hips together while the other goes to Magnus’s nape. He moans low in his throat when his boyfriend arches his neck, granting more access, but it’s drowned out by the crowd and music.

Leaning back to admire his handiwork, Alec takes in blown pupils and the flush that rides high on Magnus’s cheek bones.

They grin at each other, heated smiles, and then Alec’s pulling Magnus with him. Away from the dance floor, away from most eyes.

They stumble down a dark corridor on the edge of the room and Magnus lets Alec guide him until his back hits the wall. Magnus is already reaching for him, pulling him close, and it’s a heady feeling to be the one he wants.

Magnus’s hips roll up to meet his and Alec’s gasp turns into a stuttered groan at the friction. Nothing matters so much as this and Alec knows he’s a hair's breadth from coming in his pants.

There are hands in his hair, running through messy locks and pulling, just the tiniest bit, and it goes straight to his dick, leaves him feeling lightheaded and like he’s about to burst.

Still while this is far from the first time Alec’s had a hookup at a club, he doesn’t want that here. It takes infinitely more willpower than he thought himself capable of but Alec pulls back-- almost immediately going back in when he sees Magnus, waiting and willing.

He ducks close so that his lips touch Magnus’s ear. He feels the shiver that wracks his boyfriend and grins.

“I think it’s time we headed home, don’t you?”

Magnus nods so fast he almost gives himself whiplash and then they’re both laughing as they stumble to the front of the club. They can’t keep their hands off each other and Alec finds that he doesn't want to.

Pandemonium is still crowded and they run into more people than he can count. Finally, though, cool air wraps around them as they make it to the front entrance.

As soon as they have the space, Alec’s spinning Magnus around. His arms are around his waist and the only thing he knows is the man in front of him.

They kiss and it’s a mess, even as drunk as he is, Alec knows that. It doesn't matter though because Magnus is kissing him back and then they’re tripping on the sidewalk. Pulling back just enough for a desperate breath, Alec tries to gain his equilibrium. He sees the limo down the block and tugs Magnus in that direction and in the back of his head he knows-- he knows-- that there have to be reporters around, that this will probably be plastered across the internet tomorrow but it’s just so good and Magnus is so hot and it seems a crime to think about anything else.

The partition is up when they fall into the backseat and Alec doesn’t waste time. Dave pulls away from the curb and they fall sideways on the seat, Alec on top of Magnus-- and then they’re laughing. And it’s so silly and they’re so drunk but it doesn’t matter because Alec has everything he ever wanted and it’s all in front of him.

They pick up right where they left off in the dark of the club and Magnus reaches for his pants. With a broad, deliberate stroke along his cock, he takes his time unzipping Alec’s pants and Alec would glare if it didn’t feel so goddamn good, if he had the breath to do anything but chant Magnus’s name in an endless stream of please and faster and fuck, babe, that feels so good.

After moments of agonizing anticipation, Magnus’s hand finally closes around his cock and Alec groans harshly in the silence of the car. Jesus Christ, he thinks and then he’s not thinking at all.

He gets enough wherewithal to undo Magnus’s pants and then he’s reaching for a compartment on the side of the limo, breaking the kiss to glare at the space when he can’t find what he needs.

Magnus glares at him in turn and Alec’s breath stalls in his chest at the look, at the way his eyes reflect the muted light. Finally his hand closes around a small bottle and Alec grins sharply.

It takes Magnus a moment but when he focuses on the object in his hands he laughs, even as his legs fall open wider, one foot planted on the floorboard to steady them.

“Really, Alexander?”

His voice is breathless, teasing but his eyes are trained on him-- on the bottle-- and Alec’s nodding even as he flicks it open.

“‘Course, babe. Always be prepared, that’s my motto.”

Magnus laughs out loud but it turns into a long, drawn out moan as Alec finally gets a hand around him, now warm and slick.

They shove their pants and underwear down and when Magnus arches up, their cocks slide together. It’s messy and when they run over a pothole it’s downright hazardous but they just press together more, seeking friction and that overwhelming, scorching heat.

Alec comes first, pressing desperate fingers into Magnus’s hips hard enough to bruise and it doesn’t take more than a dozen thrusts before Magnus is following him, spilling across their stomachs.

It takes several minutes for them to catch their breaths, both of them gasping harshly in the backseat. There’s a buzzing under Alec’s skin and even though he knows the mess between them will be annoying soon enough, he’s perfectly content for the moment as he places kisses across Magnus’s chest, over his heart.

Magnus slides hands through his hair and Alec lets out a little hum of happiness and the gentle scratch against this scalp.

It takes herculean effort but they manage to eventually sit up. Thankfully, Alec really had prepared for anything and they manage to clean everything up and straighten their clothes remarkably easily.

Dave doesn’t get out and Alec’s grateful. They make their stumbling way out of the car. It seems like they both want to be as close as possible and so they keep tripping over each other’s feet.

They fall against the back wall of the elevator eventually. Alec’s arm is over Magnus shoulder as his boyfriend leans against him and he turns his head, nosing along his hair before laying a soft kiss against his temple.

Everything’s hazy and slow. Looking through the balcony doors once they make it into the loft, Alec’s almost positive he can see the first traces of dawn in the dark sky.

His focus shifts as Magnus comes around to face him, smiling at him.

“Time for bed,” he asks lowly and Alec bites his lip at the promise in his voice.

Nodding, Alec follows him to the bedroom. Their clothes are taken care of quickly and then they’re falling into bed.

The energy from earlier is disappearing, being replaced by exhaustion. Alec’s eyes close of their own volition and he shivers as Magnus mouths over his collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow of his throat.

He feels so close to falling asleep but he can’t, not when everything feels so good. Alec runs a hand down Magnus’s back, stroking his ass, urging him closer.

This second time is slow and sweet. Instead of frantic hands, there are lingering touches as the shadows in their bedroom grow shorter. Sighs replace groans and Alec feels like he’s sinking into the bed, like he could wake up at any moment just to discover everything’s been a dream.

The best dream.

He grins up at Magnus and sees the happiness that seems to be pouring through him in waves reflected in achingly warm brown eyes.

There are low words, murmurs they strain to hear. “I love you,” they both whisper and it’s quiet but no less profound, the way Alec’s heart surges in his chest.

Sunlight spills through the curtains when they finally fall asleep, wrapped around each other, a haphazard sheet pulled up to their waists.

#httbt #this is just under 10k yall #holy fucking shit #my writing

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reimenaashelyee · 5 years

Photo

Yay! Thank you! Yeah, experimentation comes into play hugely. I’d think 60% of the process is just “Step 2: ???”. But I can show you a bit of how I make the choices that end in the final aesthetic.

So The Carpet Merchant looks like this:

It’s a blend of several influences; bande dessinee meets art history meets me. But The Carpet Merchant aesthetic is meant to be the comics-version of Ottoman Miniature (minyatur), and that has been the “gimmick”, as I would call it, that drove the art direction of the story.

So much of the work in designing these layouts (before doing the thumbnails, and while drawing the actual pages themselves) is doing the research. Which means finding the correct references and making a mood board, but also understanding the rules, elements and philosophy behind the art itself. So that you’ll know which rules to break, stretch, fuse, adapt, yet still keep the essence of the thing.

Here are some of the references from my folder: (no sources attached as I’m feeling lazy rn lol sorry)

You’ll see it’s not just the minyatur itself I’m referencing. I’m bringing in the whole gang (architecture, textile, fashion and more) into the art direction, since artists never create in a vacuum, so it’s super important to find out what sort of artistic influence they may have been immersed in at the time. (You can’t always get an accurate impression, you’ve to aim for close enough...which is the moral of the story)

Anyway looking at the minyaturs, you can observe where and how they have influenced the layouts of TCM, and how TCM responds as a modern interpretation and usage of the style. TCM doesn’t look like the references 100%, it’s not meant to be because COMICS. But you can see how the old and the new link together. Look again at the image with the two people running across the house.

What the heck!! It’s madness. Each part of the house can be a comics panel by itself, if the original artist decided to stretch the idea. Then you see how there are captions that narrate the scene, above, below and within. Hello friends, you got yourself a comics page.

Two panels of a scene! Slap some speech bubbles on top of it. Boom. Comic.

There’s a lot more to see of this once you go into the Research Hell phase, but even with these two alone you can see how the “gimmick” came about. It’s a natural, logical extension of the original. But how does that influence the design of the layouts? This is where the rules come into play.

So I gather up as many references as possible (and making sure most of them are identified as Ottoman, though I’ll allow the occasional Mughal or Persian), and analyse the heck out of everything. Here’s my understanding of the rules:

Colour: Pastel yet bright. Blue, yellow and red are standard.

Framing: Figures are contained in a frame, always. Whether it’s a simple box, an archway, or a building (that becomes a big panel containing tinier panels, as seen earlier).

Embellishments: lots of pretty details and patterns, arabesques and florals. None of them clutter the illustration, and all of them function to draw your eye to the central figures, and harmonise the composition.

Usage of space: despite how sparse the outside of a minyatur appears, it actually uses THE ENTIRE PAGE as part of its storytelling. You can see it in the earlier minyatur with the tree growing out of the framing. Sometimes the background is painted and contains scenes of wildlife, more florals, and marbling/speckling.

Adapting all these rules to TCM:

Colour: No change. My colouring style is already pastel yet bright. I can go on and on about how the colours in TCM are used to tell the story but that’s another big post entirely.

Framing: still pretty true to form (I hope). Except it morphs and changes, depending on the needs of each part of the story.

Embellishments: people always notice this about TCM! I’ve to point out that it’s more than just pretty. Many of the embellishments are actually my way of incorporating carpets into the story, without necessarily having to show the carpets themselves. (and if you notice in the original, you can see the parallel with carpets too, see below)

Usage of space: This translates into using gutters (the empty spaces between and around panels) as part of the storytelling. Effectively turning the gutters into comic panels and framings themselves. It’s a lot easier to figure out how to use gutters if you’ve experience in doing illustration and thinking like an illustrator. But it’s all up to how creative you want to be.

The stars and moon on the left set the night time scene, as do the colours of the background. The branching florals guide your eye to the green panel, as well as framing it, and they also represent Zeynel’s blooming into his new life.

Zeynel is on the verge of a breakdown, struggling to curb his vampiric hunger and losing his grip on his identity as a not-vampire person. The red panel pays homage to the wildlife backgrounds in minyatur, but they take on an active rather than decorative role to represent his mental state.

Taken together:

Some of the layouts are simple. I usually reserve simplicity for highly emotional scenes, since I want the emotion to be the focus. These are the more conventional style layouts.

Then there’s the middle ground.

And finally, there are the WILD ones. The ones where I had fun bending and twisting the rules. How comic can an Ottoman minyatur go, and vice versa?

There’s a lot of experimentation. Most of the time I can’t really explain how I translate the script/dialogue to what you see on the page, since the process from thumbnails to colours is evolving, though the basic composition remains. I do have the rules though, and I tend to follow them. And I try to make each layout as unique as possible, though I don’t pressure myself. It all depends on the story. It’s learning to trust your intuition and going with it.

If you want to do your comics this way...for each comic you create, there will be different rules you’ve to discover yourself. For TCM, it’s this. For Seance Tea Party, it’s something else. And for Alexander, it’s another thing.

(this is my excuse for saying I AM SORRY I CAN’T GIVE GENERALISED INFO!! If you ask me to do a version of this post with Seance Tea Party it’ll look super different)

You just do what you got to do. Sometimes your comic tells you it wants to be a black and white minimalist manga, and THAT’S COOL! Let your story guide you to how it wants to look, and remember to always have FUN!

#comics #tutorial #the carpet merchant of konstantiniyya #A REALLY LONG POST #about how I design my layouts

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happymetalgirl · 4 years

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Lindemann - F & M

The surprising part is not Rammstein’s Till Lindemann and Swedish Renaissance man Peter Tätgren releasing another album together after the two minds met on 2015’s debaucherous Skills in Pills; it’s that the duo’s sophomore collaboration together coincided with Rammstein’s return from their ten-year silence this year. It’s not the wildest thing in the world for the two releases to come out the same year, but I just wasn’t expecting it with how much Rammstein was clearly putting into their self-titled album this year. And I don’t just bring this up for the mere statistical content; it will come up later.

While this project (Lindemann) is a duo on paper, and while Per Tätgren’s instrumental talents drive that front of the duo’s music, Lindemann, as its being named only after the Rammstein frontman, is more of a solo project in spirit, with Tätgren serving his usual purpose as a hired gun to help Till Lindemann achieve his artistic vision. Much like how his Rammstein compatriot Richard Kruspe had chosen to do on his side project, Emmigrate, Till Lindemann sang entirely in English on his solo project’s debut record, Skills in Pills, for which the Rammstein frontman had clear artistic reasons. While not shy about taboo or uneasy topics in Rammstein’s music, Till Lindemann’s poetic talent has given extra artistic depth and creativity to the band’s approach to such challenging subjects, their fearlessness to write songs about the most uncomfortable of topics becoming a big part of their notoriety and identity, and their singer’s astute wordsmithery allowing them to do so beyond mere shock value. With Skills in Pills though, the Rammstein singer wanted to express himself and his promiscuous side more personally and in primal honesty. The songs on the album generally revolve around sex and Till Lindemann’s personal experiences and fantasies. And the readily understandable and more upfront English lyricism (in comparison to his German lyricism) really highlights the primal lust within the various songs, with songs like “Fat”, “Ladyboy”, and “Golden Shower” being pretty self-explanatory by their titles alone. It’s an album that really captures that overwhelming urge of being really horny for something and just being like “ugggggghhhh, I just wanna fuckin’ get pissed on right now! AAAAGGGHH!!!”. While that’s not my thing, I get the feeling. There’s no song about eating ass, though, which is a travesty. But I’m sure someday we’ll get a Rammstein song about eating ass. The highlight of the album though, is probably the morbidly comical “Praise Abort”, on which Lindemann complains about having too many damn children because he only has sex without a condom and is jealous of all his friends who can indulge themselves rather than some thankless offspring. Musically, the album isn’t too far off from the industrial metal the German’s main band makes, though with a focus more on rocking grooves rather than crushing metallic power.

On F & M, standing for “Frau und Mann” (man and woman), Lindemann returns to writing in German, which does see a return in lyrical complexity and creativity, but not as consistently as it was on Rammstein’s album earlier this year. The album starts out with the invigorated arena chugging of “Steh auf” (Stand up), whose chorus’ emboldened call to get up out of bed is given some foreboding eight-string treatment by Tätgren. The speaker of the song is eventually revealed to be not just Lindemann urging us to get off our asses, but a character in a much darker tale, a child begging their wasted or perhaps even fatally overdosed mother to get up and take them to the circus. It’s a fucking grim piece of poetry in the same vein as “Puppe” off the self-titled Rammstein album, another testament to Till Lindemann’s ability as a compelling poetic storyteller of the most ghastly variety.

At its best, the album is full of the kind of poetically insightful and captivating writing that Rammstein is known for, and with the powerful instrumentation to back it up. And while it peaks early with “Steh auf”, there are plenty of worthy tracks on F & M that seem to have been written in a similar mindest to what much of Rammstein seemed to have been written in. “Allesfresser” (German for omnivore) is another synthy, dancy, and unsettling banger about insatiable consumption that at first seems to just be about plain old indiscriminate gluttony, but the song seems to be about relating that to overconsumption on a larger scale, humankind eating up everything in the world carelessly and to the sound of music as a representation of our distracted obliviousness to the effects of it.

The industrial metal banger “Gummi” (rubber), about a latex suit fetish, both sounds and reads like something that would have been right at home on Skills in Pills, while the similarly BDSM-motifed song “Knebel” (meaning “gag”) is this kind of comedically pathetic, poetic, woeful, and intentionally surface-level meditation on the general struggles of life (by a speaker who seems like the archetype of a frustrated disenfranchised man with ample privilege) over some bare acoustic folk instrumentation interspersed with this expression of loving “you” with a gag in mouth, which seems more about this kind of person actively silencing anyone wanting to interject their own perspective into his masturbatory meditations on destiny and the hardness of life, which explodes suddenly into a metallic tantrum of “I hate you.” All in all, pretty funny (or maddening) song depending on how you look at it. In a similar vein, “Ach so gern” is another accordion-laced, campy, café-folky ballad about a womanizer recounting in seemingly increasing insecurity his pushy sexual conquests. The kitschy tone of the song leads me to believe that this character is being made fun of, but it is hard to read that in the lyrics’ portrait alone.

Another tongue-in-cheek cut, the choir-backed industrial rocker “Platz Einz” seems to be a similarly silly portrait of deluded overcompensation about the egotistical, autofelatiolic attitude of a bigtime music star. The cleverness of the song is in the tone of course, and the bombastic production certainly helps out with that, though it’s such a closely performed piece of acting that it’s uncanny distastefulness makes it a not so fun song to listen to, which might be kind of the point.

The song the album’s title is derived from “Frau & Mann” simply lists a whole bunch of opposites as if to point out how silly the reductiveness of everything into binaries is, leaving the inclusion of man and woman in that list to be, well... I don’t think I need to spell it out. While I appreciate the lyrical concept of breaking down gender binaries, the song musically is kind of bland and features this kooky “ay ay ay!” sort of chant that I just can’t take seriously, but maybe that’s also part of the point.

The album is not without its flatter moments though, songs that feels like they might have been odds and ends or unfinished projects from Rammstein’s most recent recording sessions, as they sound similar in tone and structure despite Peter Tätgren’s embellishments. The second track “Ich Weiß es Nicht” is a more industrially heavy, yet also dancy, track about the confusing haze of amnesia, not the most lyrically or musically creative track on the album. The song “Blut” is a big choir-backed lament seemingly about self-harm in the form of cutting or even suicide. The lyrics are kind of vague and romantic, but it’s possible there’s something I’m missing in the tone of it all since I’m not a native speaker. “Schlaf ein” is probably the most underwhelming song on the album, a kind of cheesy orchestral piano lullaby, not really doing anything at all musically exciting or lyrically interesting. It sounds like a generic part of a kid’s movie soundtrack and the flowery imagery is nothing new for Till Lindemann, who is punching quite below his weight on this one.

On a more mixed note, while the shoulder-shrugging lyrics of the closing string-laden ballad don’t really do much for me, the gradual swells of the instrumentation and Till Lindemann’s vocal performance over it are enough to make up for it.

It can’t be said for certain, but for better and for worse, much of F & M seems to be made up of leftovers from the latest cranking of Rammstein’s creative mill, tracks that might have been made into B-sides on that album. There are some bright highlights that would have sounded great on that album in place of other tracks, but perhaps deemed too thematically redundant, like Till Lindemann had the choice to include either “Puppe” or “Steh auf” on Rammstein’s seventh album and ultimately went with “Puppe”. And despite its several eccentric moments and arguably more consistent composition, F & M lacks that flamboyant character that Skills in Pills had, and it seems more like a decent Rammstein leftovers album than a Lindemann solo album.

I’ll still take it/10

#Lindemann #F & M #industrial metal #industrial rock #metal #heavy metal #new music #new album #album review

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seharfatima1122-blog · 5 years

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Blur and Creative Photography – Why Your Photos Shouldn’t Be 100% Sharp?

I’ve an image of a blueberry shot at the finish of a spoon with my big scale focal factor. It has an exceptionally constrained profundity of area (DOF). Just, the front of the blueberry is in middle hobby. The relaxation has a first-rate sensitive haze.

The essential observation after I published it on fb become 'it might look better on the off risk that it has been all in canter interest.'

No.

There may be a discernment amongst a few photograph takers who are extraordinarily positioned resources into the information of taking pictures, that absolutely each photo needs to be a 100% sharp. While it is an altogether legitimate decision – and I absolutely bolster the selection to shoot their pics that manner – it is not the 'foremost' decision.

For the ones of us who need to investigate distinct inventive styles, mess around with various focal factors and push the boundaries of what pictures can enable us to do in making craftsmanship, there are a variety of options.

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Note: to resolve, at times a photograph 'only is' out of canter for motives unknown. This text has a tendency to the picture takers conscious resourceful selection to use delicate fine or obscure in a photograph. It might be an unpretentious distinction for some, yet it's far a difference.

Beyond Bokeh

It interests me that numerous picture takers accept as true with all pix 'ought to be tack sharp.' Still, they may be obtainable taking pix of winged creatures, representations or wedding photographs with sensitive obscured bokeh foundations. Notwithstanding, the motives they do as such are impeccably valid.

Some Lensmen Do as Such to:

· Mellow a diverting basis

· Bring the difficulty into significant quality

· Make it tastefully pleasing

· Supply profundity and three-D sense to the picture

Be that as it may, for bokeh to characteristic admirably, you need some explicit additives present and going on. For example, adequate pleasant focal points, a notable deal of separation in the back of the problem to the foundation, and high-quality sensitive light. Few out of each ordinary shoot gives the ones occasions, nor might everybody be able to manipulate the value of the exceptional focal point.

Remember the possibility that we want lots extra delicate first-rate in our image, such as the issue. Possibly, we want the muse sharp, and the subject obscured – a approach regularly utilized in a few street photography styles.

Should not something be said approximately ICM – intentional camera movement? or However Wabi-Sabi, the Japanese/Zen tasteful of the excellence of illness.

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There is such a full-size quantity of different techniques to peer the world and present our photographs with our unique inventive attitude. In the occasion that that suggests spreading stuff on a channel earlier than your focal point, at that point smear-away :).

Figure out the Way to Love the Blur

Carry your hand as near your face as you could, so you can at present highlight on it. The cease result for the foundation? In the event which you pass middle to the muse alternatively, your hand obscures.

A long way off mountains are obscured as we physically cannot listen plainly that remote.

So, it’s not unusual for haze to be available in our photos. Along these traces on the off threat that we use it all the extra inventively to give our pics a change vibe or inclination, we're upgrading a characteristic issue in our fact.

Painters can communicate to a tree in various routes relying upon their strategy and fashion. It is probably rendered perfectly with each leaf painted as an individual aspect. It would have distinct traces speak me to a trunk and branches, or splendid masses out of sight.

Images can be perky, resourceful, complex and masterful too. We will allow ourselves to cherish difficult to understand.

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Planned camera improvement is famous with stands of trees, delicate coastline scenes, and fields of blooms. To improve it, a whole lot step by step, a few humans expand plastic movie earlier than the focus. Or alternatively fold it over the front leaving a bit opening to shoot via.

We recognise blossom/huge scale picture takers who fold bandage texture over the front in their focal factor for an option delicate impact and to encompass a few shadings too. Extending pantyhose over the front of the focal point is also shabby and feasible.

Spreading oil jam on a channel screwed to the front of the point of interest is sensibly regular for an effective sensitive haze effect.

Lens Choices

Lens with a f forestall of 2.8 to at least 1.4 give a really tight profundity of discipline, which functions the concern and mollifies the foundation. Complete scale focal points are first-rate for this effect.

Numerous picture and wedding photographic artists will have an 85mm representation focal point with a f-prevent in this range. Often explicitly used to obscure the muse for a pleasant impact.

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Lens baby are awesome for his or her embellishment focal factors. Their focal factors provide bunches of innovative haze influences. The 'writer' run permits you to pick an express point inside the photo to be in middle whilst softening the rest of. the 'turn' extend offers a swirly bokeh effect out of sight, and there are unique alternatives as nicely.

'Helios' and 'Vivitar' antique focal factors are encountering a renaissance in prominence. They have got numerous progressive bokeh affects (counting the whirl style) and are very shabby in contrast with lens baby. Nonetheless, they may be vintage guide-middle focal factors and may require an authority mount to enrol in for your slicing area digicam, but might they be capable of can be received at actually affordable expenses.

Have Fun

For some human beings, it has a tendency to be startling to relinquish the requirement for sharpness and hold close the gentler facet. Other people take a seat cheerfully in that put and rarely shoot a traditionally sharp shot.

there’re room inner images as an innovative mechanism for us to be ingenious. To relinquish the obvious guidelines, unwind and have an exceptional time conducting something other than what's anticipated.

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Certainly, a few impacts are strong point, and you won't have any choice to use them continuously. Anyhow, you would not use a fish-eye focal factor each day either.

Having a scope of selections gives you appreciably more diploma to shoot in a surprising manner, consist of your certainly one of a kind take an image. Using unique focal points can enable us to see the sector in new energizing ways and open up chances to make paramount pictures.

Methods to Play 1. Bokeh

Bokeh identifies with the pleasant and smoothness of your obscured basis while you shoot the difficulty with a shallow profundity of field. Various focal factors give a shifted type of bokeh. Often, the higher best brief primes or complete scale focal factors have the smoothest, maximum gratifying bokeh.

Bokeh takes place whilst the issue is closer to the digicam than it's far to the inspiration. Capturing wide open, i.e., f2. eight to f1.2 will give greatest haze of the inspiration.

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So, attempt to shoot your subjects extensive open with a decent profundity of discipline. With the foundation in addition far from them, you'll accomplish the pleasant sensitive haze.

2. Specific Recognition

Whilst you join a limited profundity of field, for example, f2.8, with deciding on a specific piece of the challenge, it's going to mollify the whole thing else inside the photo.

Doing as such makes a lovely effect with blossoms and large-scale symbolism.

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3. Shoot Via

Area something before the focal point to include a few dimensions of non-abrasiveness. It can both totally cover the focal point or be folded over it to just mellow the rims.

· You can make use of:

· Nylons prolonged over the focal point

· Gauzy texture folded over the focus

· Plastic movie crosswise over or folded over the point of interest

· Channels spread with oil jam

· Hold texture or blooms earlier than a part of the focus to consist of non-abrasiveness (normal in blossom images)

4. ICM (Intentional Camera Movement)

Purposeful digital camera movement is the point at which the digicam is deliberately moved amid the display commencing and shutting to feature difficult to understand to the image. An independent thickness channel can assist with supplying you with a touch longer display velocity if taking pictures in sunshine.

You may have seen this applied in shots of backwoods with vertical stands of tree trunks.

5. Vintage Lenses

Take a stab at buying 'Helios' or 'Vivitar' lenses (or distinctive options) and related mounts to your digital camera. A massive quantity of those focal points has unexpected greater visualizations (now and then located as a blame) however may be utilized appropriately for revolutionary photographs.

Read also: DIY Food Photography Backdrops Tips: Make it Easy and Affordable

6. Capacity Lenses

Lensbaby offers a scope of focal factor answers for give you a collection of delicate affects.

7. Filters

Delicate consciousness channels get tightened front of your focal factor and are helpful in photo and fabulousness work. Something else, several people imitate this effect in publish-making ready by way of photoshop.

Conclusion

For the folks that endeavour to have every photograph as sharp as might be predicted beneath the situations, continue with your endeavours. At the off chance that you who want extra variety, adaptability, and imagination to your work, there may be space to play and make that fashion of a picture as properly.

See also: Photography Still Life Things: It can Teach your 3 – Still life photography

It would not want to be highly-priced. The antique focal points may be purchased on line for under $100 (contingent upon cargo and alternate charges).

Give yourself authorization to unwind, test and play, and make something unique!

Approach the sensitive side. We love it here! 🙂

Provide your pictures with us in the remarks under.

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recommendedlisten · 5 years

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There were hardly any blockbuster albums in 2018, but there definitely was no shortage of great albums either. For that reason, the year in music was better off for it. Similar to how this year's 30 Best Songs came from an open field where newer artists breaking through the underground could take a seat at the same table as innovative veterans and modern pop royalty alike, the 30 Best Albums of 2018 tells a similar story of a past not showing any signs of being beyond its prime, and a very promising future as to what its rookie artists might create one day when they're no longer the buzzworthy genre outsiders, punks, dance makers, and indie rockers the scene's radar. And speaking of the latter, it looks like many of this decade's earliest risers have proven themselves as worthy of the hype through greater substance and hitting their own strides. Less obvious, however, was that 2018 was a banister year for a new wave of hardcore band that continue to challenge the status quo beyond every circle of sound imaginable. If you've been waiting for the real thing, this year's top honors delivered it to you. 2019 has a lot to live up, because if it's half as interesting as the 30 Best Albums of 2018, we'll still be very lucky as listeners.

30. Hovvdy - Cranberry [Double Double Whammy]

With their graduation to Double Double Whammy for its sophomore effort Cranberry, Hovvdy have removed much of the digital tape deck hiss from their debut to make memories even more vivid when being stored inside their songs. And yet, Cranberry is still as soft a listen in a lovely way as its predecessor was despite its sharper clarity, which leads one to believe that the duo of Will Taylor and Charlie Martin are more focused on the way the listening experience captures a feeling rather than seeks out a way to recreate it. The songs’ tempos oft slowly trot through crisp strums and repetitive drum steps, occasionally fluttered in the warm hum of Casiotones (courtesy of fellow Austin DIY scene peer Hannah Read of Lomelda), but in defining their shapes in bolder lines with proper pop construction, Taylor’s plainspoken singing have a bigger space on the canvas to paint broad-stroked stories onto and allow the details – as muted as they are – to sink in full.

29. House of Feelings - New Lows [Joyful Noise Recordings]

What started as a radio show and dance night spinning some of the most esoteric sounds in dance and electronic vibes is now a living, breathing music collective of creatives from all corners of the underground built on an unbreakable foundation known as House of Feelings. On the NYC troupe’s debut full-length New Lows, multi-faceted songwriter Matty Fasano, YVETTE drummer and producer Dale Eisinger, songwriter Joe Fassler, and a cast of HoF collaborators familiar and new including Perfect Pussy’s Meredith Graves, Shamir, Denitia, and EULA’s Alyse Lamb, the group steps back into the darkest time line of our present reality after tripping out in an ambient post-apocalyptic freak out with last year’s club banger Last Chance EP. The pathways through which they travel are still treacherous as ever, but with blood-soaked shoes, sweaty bass lines, brass spirits, and synthetic doppelgangers for human emotion, they’re able to create a chic antidote for corrupt modern connections.

28. Oneohtrix Point Never - Age Of [Warp Records]

Oneohtrix Point Never breaks free of self-imposed insularity through collaboration and his own version of mass pop deconstruction to create “nightmare ballads” on Age Of. It is – along with the performance art installation that accompanies it – simultaneously Daniel Lopatin’s most ambitiously detailed, yet cohesively-defined auditory experiences since breaking through in 2010 with the melodic MIDI warping of Returnal, as it reconvenes into a pattern of brain teasing pleasure that had until now, been marked for deletion in his virtual garden. Dismantling pop cliches into a morbid art form has always been Oneohtrix Point Never’s M.O., but never has Lopatin challenged them so heavily as he has on Age Of by putting what’s obvious in front of listeners, then ripping off its outer layers of gloss to reveal what makes them work. Whenever these songs feel as though they are encroaching upon a natural climax, OPNs pulls the hook away from our ears, as if to tantalize our reward ever so softly while testing the natural habits of our cerebral mechanics no doubt shaped by larger machines in the process. Now, that’s a scary thought...

27. Ava Luna - Moon 2 [Western Vinyl]

Moon 2 is the perfect title for where Ava Luna are today as artists. It’s their new phase – One in which the NYC art pop band shed the skin of the term “collective,“ and instead join tentacles to become a fully collaborative species as varied as their backgrounds are. That LP 5 is their most streamlined effort to date may come as an even bigger surprise given the latter detail, as each member of the five-piece has spent the interim since 2015′s Infinite House expressing themselves mostly on their own. It could be, however, that in learning to stand on their own feet and flexing these creative muscles that Ava Luna has become stronger as a unit, as stylistic cohesion is threaded through the album from the moment it creaks into infinite space. Gravity-free vocals and ambient waves glide through Felicia Douglass’ hushed breaths and silk-covered runs, Becca Kaufmann bumps energy into the alien disco, while guitarist Carlos Hernandez’ and the band’s rhythm of Julian Fader and Ethan Bassford maintain its physically kinetic geometry. In this phase, there’s no one who can do it all with the fashion and finesse like they do.

26. Gouge Away - Burnt Sugar [Deathwish Inc.]

Maybe more exciting than the arrival of their breakout Burnt Sugar is that Gouge Away are really only getting started. At its core level is vocalist Christina Michelle who lives and breathes her every word, be it gnarling in daily anxiety and frustrations with hope, or controlling the chaos with a sung seance. Since their debut ,Dies, she and her bandmates have evolved into a more intentional force with in their use of emotional intensity as Mick Ford’s guitars remain razor-sharp when need be, but conceal themselves in a softer casing that rolls down your spine before tearing into your skin. Burnt Sugar also gets some of its charred flavoring by pillaging the grime and grunge of ‘90s post-hardcore and noise influence, as Tyler Forsythe’s bass lines dent and wobbly through tension without resistance as Tommy Cantwell’s drums find a gnarled groove between the dark crevices they leave in their quake. Its brimming with so much possibility as to where they can go tomorrow, but for now, leaves a lasting bittersweet taste in your mouth.

25. Hop Along - Bark Your Head Off, Dog [Saddle Creek]

Bark Your Head Off, Dog finds Hop Along mastering the art of embellishing rock with finer detail. While it may require additional lengths to let it sink in, it’s definitively the Philly band’s most ambitious effort to succeed on all fronts.Their latest sonic evolution continues to bristle with rawness, yet hooks are deeply entwined in intricate chord progressions while Frances Quinlan’s storytelling has become a thing on the scale of an American classic in literature as she continues to observe the mundane of everyday living with deep existential analysis. The quartet’s overall sound reflects that need to uphold that imagery with compositions just as tangled in the ornate, and demanding greater patience on the part of the listener to hear exactly where knotted guitars untie themselves and fray into choruses, or where elastic, funky footwork begins to effortless flow with ease into melody. Bark Your Head Off, Dog is not just something to behold because of its creative maturation, but a fun practice in dissecting and digesting music (and subsequently, the world around us) that rewards the experience with resonating tunefulness hidden in between.

24. Deafheaven - Ordinary Corrupt Human Love [ANTI-]

Deafheaven’s fourth studio effort Ordinary Corrupt Human Love shares many of the same organs and bone structures as its ancestors, but it’s a different animal altogether. It’s Deafheaven putting every one of the eccentricities they have nourished in their sound out there from the start into the wilderness, free to roam and form an album that embodies the humanity within their metal machine. Piano interludes, dreamy soundscapes indebted to slocore and indie rock traditionalism alongside guest vocal apparitions both weave even further layers to an an already ornate tapestry of scorched earth black metal and post rock, if maybe adding a touch of fragility to Clarke’s core existentialism. He ruminates plaintive thoughts on nature, aging, and empathy with a poetic grandeur that makes no apologies for being transparently earnest. That earnestness in all facets is what differentiates Ordinary Corrupt Human Love from any other Deafheaven album, or any other album that seers together a heavy heart and inner peace for that matter.

23. Janelle Monáe - Dirty Computer [Epic Music / Sony Records / Wonderland Arts Society]

Dirty Computer bares the familiar signatures of Janelle Monáe’s past work – a rollout full bonkers visuals overlaying forward-thinking production that sets synthetic futurisms on an asteroid collision with the funky torchbearing of the Purple One’s legacy – yet it doubles down on radio-equipped hooks and choruses grounded like no other effort she’s set forth. There’s a full reveal of the political being personal in that aspect, as the album celebrates Monáe’s “PYNK”-themed coming out party as a pansexual woman of color, redefining the “Crazy, Classic, Life” of the modern American dream in the process. Her freedom roar, be it sung with sex and smoothness as she exudes in album bangers ”Make Me Feel” and “Screwed” or rapped with sharpened poise on ”Django Jane” is limitless is strength. Monáe’s star power dwarfs even the legends of tomorrow accompanying her journey back to Earth, be it Brian Wilson’s cosmic harmonies on its title track, or the electric empower-ade made with Pharrell Williams on “I Got the Juice”. Now that she’s graced us within arm’s length, it’s time we start recognizing a world where everything revolves around Janelle Monáe’s universal message to be just as you are.

22. The 1975 - A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships [Dirty Hit / Interscope Records]

On their third LP A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, it’s here where millennial melody makers the 1975 come into their own with their most actualized commentary on modern connection and pop music. Frontperson Matty Healy’s guides the dialogue through astute observations as a voyeur as well as his own ugly overshares for public consumption The album especially glorifies the latter in its arrangement. Like the dopamine rushes and exhaustion of life’s sudden highs and unexpected lows, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships is pieced together in an unpredictable path of emotions in mind as it plays out. The listen combs through a post-Burial static plane, Auto-tuned trap pop, power ballad bombast, and even pulling off some oddity moments of loungey jazz. There’s a lot to not like about how our world is revolving, with the only optimism echoed here is the acknowledgement that we’re suffering through the darkest timeline together. For a generation whose attention’s spans are at peak deficit, hashtaggable plugs and genre-hopping get that message across through production-perfect content baiting reach.

21. Kamasi Washington - Heaven and Earth [Young Turks]

The year’s biggest adventure through the sonic cosmos comes by way of Kamasi Washington who takes you further out than you expected with Heaven and Earth, his latest grandeur display of avant jazz adventures composed with the special powers of the video game superheroes he invokes when aligning big brass purists and less discriminatory crossover crowd on the same universal plane. The double LP featuring 16 tracks average in 10 minutes in length each may as well be a quadruple one by today’s standards, though it also finds the Los Angeles saxophonist and his band in top form with cohesively connecting the dots in his experimentally sound genre reconstructions that encompasses free wheeling eruptions and percussive winks into the realms of rock, soul, and R&B. Heaven and Earth mediates his world of the weird and technically proficient with out current pop climate changes, and there’s more than enough sonic sight seeing in this journey to keep your senses in awe.

20. Iceage - Beyondless [Matador Records]

What began as an exorcise in violence, nihilism, and anxiety personified in the least suspecting of scenes within Denmark’s desolate DIY basements has evolved into a meticulous exercise in punk polyglot experimentation on Beyondless. Here, Iceage weaponize gothic purveyance to subdue their louder abrasions, but not necessarily their ability to confront the dark with any softer hesitation for a grander stage. The Danish quartet’s fourth studio effort is a new peak culmination in their insatiable desire to further themselves well beyond the limits previously drawn in their musical sculpture. The way they brandish danger and bleak existentialism in tandem with their bootsy grit is sexed up for pomp and glam through its incorporation of strong brass winds and cantankerous jazzy fits. Elias Rønnenfelt has written himself a charismatic stage persona to match – Consumed by the theatrics of a rock god and the Devil himself at once. Their unholy ritual has been completed and satisfies all heathens.

19. Tomberlin - At Weddings [Saddle Creek]

Sarah Beth Tomberlin was born to a strict Baptist household where her father was a minister, and she honed her craft as a songwriter through praise hymnals sung at Sunday sermons. She wasn’t allowed to discover a musical world outside of that sphere until she began secretly sneaking Bright Eyes CDs into her possession during her formative years. At Weddings, her debut full-length, is her way of forging her own path in a post-theist world that gives her – as she puts it on its opener “Any Other Way” – a sudden feeling that she doesn’t “have a place.” There’s more to her story than just existential queries hollowed out in a negative space where her voice, rendered in a delicate, yet devastatingly beautiful coat of reverb, echoes out as vast as the Midwestern fields she was raised. While At Weddings doesn’t conclude with her finding that place in the world she can finally rest comfort in, the ellipses it leaves listeners with is awe-striking in the way it makes you wonder right alongside Tomberlin where her path will lead her in the end.

18. Speedy Ortiz - Twerp Verse [Carpark Records]

Ever since they arrived on the scene as fresh-faced college grads of the school of indie rock with their 2013 debut full-length Major Arcana, the combination of singer Sadie Dupuis’ particular prose and she and her Speedy Ortiz bandmates’ higher level learning of idiosyncratic songwriting has been the thing that has made them stand out in a pack in the scene’s new wave of artists heavily influenced by the thinking person’s underground. With 2015′s Foil Deer, they proved that they had not only studied up on every book inside the indie rock laureates' libraries, and knew how to put that knowledge to proper use in writing their own chapters within it for today’s impressionable minds, but their latest effort Twerp Verse is a selfless endeavor devoid of needing to prove anything to anyone. Instead, it’s the quartet’s most outspoken commentary on modern day righteousness made all the more digestible with some new tricks from Dupuis’ second degree in spooky pop experimentation gained during a semester abroad under her sad13 guise. Speedy cram a lot to chew on here about common decency, but rest assured, these are choruses that will stick to your brain as much as the corrective lessons for a better society do, too.

17. Daughters - You Won’t Get What You Want [Ipecac Recordings]

Before going on indefinite hiatus in 2010, Daughters helped carve out a particular sound that stylized post- and grindcore scenes in the mid-2000s. Elastic guitars, intense drumming fits, and a frontperson in Alexis S.F. Marshall who sounded like an unhinged cog thrown in the machine whose job was to cause malfunctions at every turn was their modus operandi. Through sealed rifts, Daughters have since reunited with its most recent incarnation of Marshall, founding drummer Jon Syverson, rhythm guitarist Nicholas Andrew Sadler and Samuel M. Walker on bass, yet they're not the same band we heard on their return effort You Won’t Get What You Want. The Providence quartet’s fourth studio effort makes a concentrated effort in reshaping the outlines of their hardened history in an industrial fusion of human parts and robot arms melding into one alongside sea-sawing droning, smoldering blues, and gothic epics. Just as Daughters’ past indefinite hiatus status made no promises, You Won’t Get What You Want feels like they’ve entering a new phase where the unease in uncertainty fuels the thrill ride to defy any expectation/

16. Wild Pink - Yolk In the Fur [Tiny Engines]

Despite having cut their teeth in the Brooklyn indie scene these last several years, Wild Pink don’t sound so much like your standard guitar-chugging city dwellers on their breakout sophomore effort Yolk In the Fur. The trio of John Ross, TC Brownell and Dan Keegan have grown beyond the concrete jungle and ventured into an equally captivating impression here of ‘80s synth-bleeding, Americana-influenced rock that has made storytelling sentiment glimmer like a borealis in the way it has for the album’s kindred spirit Tom Petty and more recently, the modern day journeys of the War On Drugs. Yolk In the Fur has its own handwriting to share, however, with Ross emoting existential philosophies while gazing through the monotony of the every day and millennial melancholia. It’s there where Wild Pink transcend beyond subways and human-saturated streets and into the vast fields, rivers and star-lit skies -- Their own version of escapism becoming contagious.

15. Camp Cope - How to Socialise & Make Friends [Run for Cover Records]

Speaking to Camp Cope’s How to Socialise & Make Friends is a daunting task, especially from this end seeing that any cisgender straight male isn’t the most qualified to do the kind of heavy lifting these Melbourne indie rockers’ do here on their sophomore effort. The listen protests and shouts just as much as it lets out heavy sighs as singer Georgia Maq airs her grievances, be it via acid tongue or a higher road empathy. Her targets include gendered double-standards and an exhaustion with cultured misogyny in every facet of her daily life. She sings from both the unjust experiences as the frontperson of an all-women band within a male-dominated punk scene and as a humanist, with dudes behaving badly toward both in and out of those circles. The sound Camp Cope wage war with words with burns with an anti-authoritarian DIY spirit and emotive frustration equivocally, as Maq’s unfurling guitars over Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich and Sarah Thompson’s steady rhythm clear a path for her to break the patriarchy, if even by throwing just a single stone into every glass ceiling at a time.

14. Snail Mail - Lush [Matador Records]

Lindsey Jordan knows the roller coaster emotions of being young better than most indie rock songwriters out there right now, perhaps because she’s still figuring out a way to deal with them. With her debut album Lush, the 19-year-old’s creative outlet Snail Mail invites the entire world into the thick of her Tiny Little Corner of Anywhere where the doldrums of suburban living collide with teenage romance and its ensuing anguish in a manner where even a minor happening in heartache is enough substance to soundtrack a turning point in the coming-of-age experience. How she does so is through a stronghold in sharp earnestness wise beyond her years with lyrical specificity wrapped up in slowburning melancholic hooks that might otherwise suggest what ‘90s indie rock might have sounded like had it been put to her eloquent pen in the present. Yet, Lush is through and through about living in the moment, growing pains and all, and Snail Mail is in no hurry to shake the ride.

13. Vince Staples - FM! [Def Jam]

FM! -- an 11 track, 23-minute-long project from Vince Staples -- extends the Long Beach M.C.’s streak of success through an endless summer party meant for momentary escapism. The listen is no different than tuning into the long-running Los Angeles hip-hop station 92.3 and its show, Big Boy’s Neighborhood, that serves to bind together Staples’ latest duality of disenfranchised disparity against fame and prosperity over a series of intros, skits, interludes and, to greater effect, a group of Cali-minded guest features that would fit in effortlessly next to the radio fodder Staples’ cult rap skills usually sit on the outside of. It’s a current snapshot of the Vince Staples of today without forgetting where he came from, and he gets a few hits in that way by dropping ugly realities into an otherwise mostly white Coachella crowd-pleasing playlist where tough-as-nails honesty and ear-softening commercial pleasure find a middle ground. FM!’s fun from the outside looking in, yet a complex commentary when you stick your head in closer, and nothing less than we’ve come to expect from rap’s best thinkers.

12. Vein - errorzone [Closed Casket Activities)

The Greater Boston legacy of heavy has long been a place where hardcore and metal collide with an awesome vigor, and that lineage continues to expand beyond the Baystate today with Vein, a group of Merrimack Valley thrashers who are amplifying the intensity of the scene’s groundbreakers in the likes of Cave In, Converge and American Nightmare, and bare down the void with their own young nihilistic bulldozing. Their debut full-length errorzone uses the framework laid before them and fuses its pieces into a sound of apocalyptic proportions where human adrenaline and natural forces smolder into the quintet’s firestorm to form a death-wielding vehicle. The end result tears shit apart in every which way. Lead screamer Anthony DiDio is a wrecking ball on his own two feet, but backed by Vein’s seismic riffs and stone pummeling rhythmic core, errorzone is unapologetically harsh in seeing that everything burns to the ground. Taking into account the current state of the world, that might just be what this place needs.

11. Beach House - 7 [Sub Pop]

With 7, Beach House’s singular sound has settled on a narrative that has no concrete objective in sight, but rather, an unharnessed exploration into the unknown of what possibilities may manifest. That it’s their most curiously daring listen in a career that’s already been defined by surprises is a fete most veteran indie rock acts these days should be envious to achieve themselves, and for that, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally can thank their lucky intuition for guiding their spirit in a directionless path. 7′s specific magical power is their ability to transform that darkness into an unsuspecting beauty, as the album oft confronts such instances fit for these tumultuous times by embracing the ability for empathy and love to grow out of that trauma, capturing the free-fall from resistance into giving in with a lightness. Explorations with psychedelic hues and cosmic lights in their smoldering, vapory dream-pop soothe even the bleakest questions that float through the timeline of an otherwise frightening reality. Beach House, in their present formless existence, endure in its brave embrace of it.

10. Earl Sweatshirt - Some Rap Songs [Tan Cressida / Columbia Records]

Aside from being a grade A wordsmith, Earl Sweatshirt stands out among other rappers from the younger era thanks to his ability to connect with audiences by talking to real life context in ways that never look like fashion statements or image crafting. It’s neither a Drake-ism or an emo rap algorithm ploy -- It’s honest, ugly reality checks that have gone toe to toe with anxiety, depression and death talk without glamorizing any of them as a welcome lifestyle. Last we’d heard from him were the incisive cuts levied through weed clouds and paranoia on 2015′s I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside, yet, like many of his Odd Future alumni, Earl has grown out of his tumultuous teens, and with Some Rap Songs, the 24-year-old cult hero is beginning to piece together life’s puzzles clearly -- at least through prose. Throughout the listen, his rap style transcends any comparison to what his peers are creating as he delves into an abstract collage of background noise made of layered beats, samples of voices from the outside, and a control over his own as a hookless wonder. With the smoke clearing from the room, it turns out that the avant direction fits Earl Sweatshirt perfectly.

9. Robyn - Honey [Konichiwa Records]

In the 8 year absence releasing her ultimate legacy-cementing effort Body Talk, Robyn’s footprint on the pop universe has become permanently entangled in the DNA of its modern current. Now that she’s made her return on her sixth full-length effort Honey, however, we’re not just given everything we could hope for in a Robyn album – But something from a different creative pop genius than the one we last danced our worries away with. Experiences with grief and loss have changed the shape of the way she breaks our hearts and teaches us how to put them back together this time around, as Honey brings different facets of light into her singular sound to separate itself from similar flavors. Bright, shimmering whirls of synths and soft caresses sweep up a familiar warmth as any other Robyn endorphin rush, but glamorous house parties, funked up bass lines and breezy lite R&B turn the corner toward a different perspective in the healing process. Though we never truly know what pains life may bring our way, Robyn reminds us that there’s always a way back to the sweet stuff with Honey.

8. Pusha-T - DAYTONA [Def Jam / G.O.O.D. Music]

Stretches of ominous silence in between releases have worked to Pusha-T’s advantage in massaging his work into a hard craft. Ever since his 2013 debut My Name Is My Name and 2015′s followup King Push – Darkest Before Dawn: The Prelude, the pursuit of perfection has equated to him needing to waste less time to get people talking about what he’s saying. His X-acto knife precision consistently coupled with an ultra modern beat design never ceases to cut right where it needs to, and with his latest album DAYTONA, we get 7 tracks in just a little over 20 minutes where the Delaware son savors his words for deep impact. What’s left in its wake is a proper torching of the entire hip-hop landscape with his long shadow and knife-like flow that gave 2018 one of the year’s most talked about rap beefs. Darker moments surrounding loss of friends and the double-edged sword of fame swallow the soul whole into itself as well, and in aligning himself with Kanye West’s post-Pablo production (basically, the only good thing ‘Ye gave music this year...), the reign of King Push remains unrivaled.

7. Soccer Mommy - Clean [Fat Possum Records]

The opening moments from Soccer Mommy breakout Clean don’t idealize romantic expectations, so don’t get your hopes up that the rest of the album is going to find its way to some kind of happy ending either. Clean is the result of an ongoing bedroom-born lullaby inward that had been slowly forming the outlines of Sophie Allison’s persona over the years, with her debut full-length transforming early broad brush strokes into more detailed ones through a rickety walk of structurally-sound acoustic strums, hints of twinklecore in her alternative slow burn, and a healthy measure of studio trickery that puts a stamp with Allison’s name all over her confessionals. There’s an intense relatability to her storytelling as well as her underdog status of being on the losing end of relationships that makes her work resonate deep within the every-person, and they’re all necessary, too. Unlike all of the girls who she isn’t we meet here on Clean, owning up to her differences is what makes Allison sound realer than the rest.

6. Cardi B - Invasion of Privacy [Atlantic Records]

Social media-assisted personal brands may seemingly grow overnight these days, but one thing that won’t ever change is how they’re only a piece of the puzzle – if at all – in guaranteeing a successful rap career. If you were expecting Cardi B’s debut album Invasion of Privacy to change any rules of the game, it doesn’t over-promise in that regard, but it’s still an assured first step that includes Cardi delivering on her end of the it with a solid performance of real life character work backed by a roundtable of reliable modern production crafted by the likes of Boi-1da, Murda Beatz and Benny Blanco. It’s an early indication that proves she knows herself better than most others have in this position when it came to making money moves with natural instinct, and it’s perhaps the biggest reason why Cardi B managed to parlay her hustle from behind a smart phone into a #1 dream come true while her detractors keep bloating streaming algorithms in hopes of guaranteeing themselves a cheap hit.

5. Kacey Musgraves - Golden Hour [Mercury Nashville]

With Golden Hour, Kacey Musgraves continues to be just as brave enough to color outside the lines of country with her honesty as she does in the palette she paints with as well. Disco-inflicted pop crossovers, cosmic countrypolitan, psychedelic steel pedaling, a refracted spectrum of ‘70s style classic rock piano balladry worthy of Elton’s rhinestoned co-sign, and in between everything, Golden Hour shining with that simple purity of fully lucid designs Musgraves has always brought to the table in dripping honey-combed acoustics into melancholia and pop that bring even a basic approach to songwriting into widescreen view. The album amounts to something akin to an actual rainbow for that matter – All colors vivid and unique in their own way, but when they collect together, they suggest something much more, be it in its wonders of life, love, and enjoying every second of it in the present with your senses filled with them.

4. American Pleasure Club - A Whole Fucking Lifetime of This [Run for Cover Records]

At the end of 2017, Sam Ray ditched the Teen Suicide moniker in favor of something more empathetic and conscious by redubbing his punk band American Pleasure Club. After years of making music inspired by depressive fits, substance abuse, and an aggressively nihilistic world view, he’s realigned his sound as well thanks to sobriety and finding domestic bliss with fellow musician Kitty Ray. With that, the band’s third proper album A Whole Fucking Lifetime of This is where Sam Ray has adulted beyond the bitter teenage malaise of his past while giving his loyalty of listeners every reason to continue working toward defining happiness in their own messy lives. That’s mirrored in a juxtaposition of vibes throughout the listen, varied in mood and style as vast as bedroom pop melancholia, pop-punk jitters, wallowing alternative waves, and hazy R&B that circle back to a big picture of coherency. Its a soundscape Ray has tinkered with tirelessly since the project’s inception, and has now found a fulfilling sweet spot in American Pleasure Club’s sound thanks to acknowledgement the reality of a love in a world that will never truly be a personal heaven nor hell.

3. Mitski - Be the Cowboy [Dead Oceans]

Mitski’s fifth album Be the Cowboy is brimming with ideas in brevity, yet it never falls short of articulating them with considered judgement that proves Mitski Miyawaki is in full control of her directive wheel. To give of herself even the slightest glimpse into the 27-year-old songwriter’s psyche through song is her gift to the Earth, with her pen blurring a universal connection between the personal and creation by mining its many striations of disconnect. Her other half on the surface level is often framed like a lover, though she’s hinted that sometimes the relationships that break her heart the most are those not reciprocated in her commitment to her work. Be the Cowboy finds her acting out every role in the story inseparably through the bombast of indie rockisms,an incorporation of songwriting worlds both traditional and modern that render new benchmarks of perfection for her timeless prose and even disco-pop, making it all the more difficult to decipher, yet that’s the point: They’re all designed as self-reflections given equal moments to be honored in her dark and light.

2. Low - Double Negative [Sub Pop]

Slowcore innovators Low have evolved far beyond the patient wonder of their music in several different styles over their storied 25-year career as a band, but nothing in their catalog is anything like their latest studio effort, Double Negative. The listen answers the question of what may exist of the Duluth trio if you were to destroy in their sound all the natural beauty that has endured gracefully these last three decades, and attempts to reconstruct it by fragment, particle by particle. That’s done intentionally, as the band holds a shattered mirror up to the world and reflects it onto themselves, as LP 12 embraces their most abrasive traits fearlessly through deconstructed and corruptly digitized instrumentation sucked into the vacuous production of. B.J. Burton, go-to producer at Bon Iver’s April Base home studio. The uncertainty in Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker vocals, while remaining tender all the way through, surface anxieties felt by many humans amid the disarray. We don’t know what tomorrow brings, though Double Negative captures the present in all its brokenness flawlessly.

1. Turnstile - Time & Space [Roadrunner Records]

Pull the 25-minute-long sprint that is Turnstile’s major label debut Time & Space apart by its guts, and you’ll hear that it’s so many other things than just a record that is guaranteed to insight a lot of free-falling bodies flying off stages wherever they take this record live. Even as a screamer, Brendan Yates is rather Svengali in his anti-et. al resistance, feeding his existential crisis into grungy despair and plunging down that rabbit hole lined in hybridized metal. Guitarists Brady Ebert and Pat McCrory alongside bassist Franz Lyon and drummer Daniel Fang are integral to controlling the listen between a slam dance and a hardcore meditation, meeting every signature call to the pit with a far out reverberation such as “Moon”, a lush, hazy pop-punker of a track. If there’s a single takeaway from Turnstile’s proper introduction beyond the DIY spaces they came through, it’s that the Baltimore quintet are prepared to take risks to reshape hardcore as something more than just punk’s harder edge of sound. It’s one continuous nonstop feeling, and one that’s bringing the whole scene into an entirely different level of being.

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