#BUT THE VOCALS!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHEWING THIS SONG!!!!!!!!!! THE ALTERNATIONS

[suuho]

god was listening when this happened

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 27: Studio Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“Try it again, from the top this time.”

Chan lets out a heavy sigh, adjusting the black headphones he wears over his ears, as he listens for the beat. It chimes in the same way it has for the past hour you’ve been here, the downbeat of a drum echoing almost too loudly. The metronome starts up at the same time, clicking repeatedly like the second hands on the clock do. He glances at the time before he begins- this session was supposed to be over nearly 45 minutes ago. And then he sings into the microphone to the catchy tune, repeating the lyrics he knows by heart now, despite only having the sheet music for less than a day.

“Cut,” you say to him, chewing on the cap of your plastic ballpoint pen. “There’s something missing.”

“Well I’m not doing it again,” Chan huffs, cupping his hands around the headphones and removing them. He balances them on the music stand, pivoting around to gather his belongings, before exiting the recording booth once more.

“It sounds incomplete,” you voice. “We need something on the downbeat.”

“Not for the second chorus,” he replies frustratedly. “I told you a million times, that’s only for the first one.”

“But every time you pause, it sounds strange.”

“Then let it sound strange,” Chan finishes. A silence overtakes the room when he finishes speaking, his head hanging in shame you avert his gaze. He parts his lips to say something, before shaking his head, hoping you’ll break the silence first.

“You know,” you say to him quietly. “Of all the people I work with, you’re by far the most stubborn.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, an irate expression in his tone. “Maybe we just have creative differences, then. I can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone as demanding as you.”

“Then find somebody else,” you reply, standing up from your swivel chair. “I’m done here.”

“Good.”

“Great!” You exclaim, gathering a stack of papers. “Good luck trying to find someone else with this late notice.”

Chan thinks it over momentarily, stopping to glance over his shoulder in your direction. He thinks of the song, and all the verses that remain unfinished, and about how he’ll be tasked with arranging the entirety of it in your absence. Which he could do- if he wasn’t already drowning in choreography lessons and meetings for the remainder of the month.

“Fine,” Chan says finally. “We can try it a different way. He cocks his head in the direction of the studio, gesturing to the door.

“Alright,” Chan voices plainly. “I’ll meet you in there.”

He’s the first to enter the recording booth again, slinging his bag off his shoulder and crossing his arms in front of the music stand that still houses a stack of sheet music. You trail in after him reluctantly, shutting the door behind you and doing your best to avert his gaze, before he begins to speak.

“Tell me what you suggest,” he says, shrugging in the direction of the stand. “And we can try that.”

“You need vocals on the downbeat,” you reply, pulling a ballpoint pen out from behind your ear and making a mark on the paper. “Something to lead into the chorus.”

Chan cocks his head as if in deep thought, and then he nods, thinking over your words briefly.

“I’ll get someone with a deeper voice to add something,” he says finally. “So that at least it’s different from my verse in the first chorus.”

He scribbles something out on the sheet music, making a note to add an alternate set of vocals where you’d suggested. And then he caps the ballpoint pen once more, before turning to you again.

“Anything else you want to suggest?” Chan queries, thumbing over the pen cap. His chest rises and falls with every annoyed breath he takes, trying his best not to make some snarky quip at you for keeping him so long.

“That’s it,” you say simply. “You’re free to go. I’m gonna stay here and get some work done.”

Chan observes as you assume a spot on one of the stools, peeling off your hoodie and slinging it over the music stand. You remain in just a thin white tank top, shuffling through your bag for your laptop, as he stays standing behind you.

“You’re… gonna stay here?” Chan asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. He can’t seem to avert his gaze from your top, his eyes scanning your chest, as you balance in the crook of your elbow.

“Yeah,” you reply, giving him a confused look. “I always stay after hours.”

“I could bring you dinner,” he blurts out suddenly, earning another confused look from you.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t reply, you look up to catch him staring at you a little too intently. His expression softens when he pulls up a stool next to you, letting out an exasperated sigh, before speaking.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Chan voices. “I know we have our creative differences. But I don’t mean to come off as such a jerk.”

“Yeah, well, you do. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Your gaze finally meets his, well aware of how close he’s sitting to you now. His gaze flickers from your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again, swallowing nervously as he looks for the words to say.

“Let me make it up to you,” Chan says in a voice just above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for a response this time, simply leaning in to gauge your reaction. And when you don’t back away from him, leaning in as though he might indulge you in a secret, or some heartfelt apology.

“How, exactly?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your tone. And you’re not sure what exactly you’re expecting- but it’s certainly a surprise when he leans in to press his lips against yours, indulging you in a sweet, yet desperate kiss, before pulling away once more.

“What was that?” You say instinctively, not taking your gaze off his.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry-”

“Do it again,” you interject, and Chan’s lips pull into a smirk when he leans in again to kiss you a second time, this time much rougher than the first. His hands snake down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then you pull away breathlessly, as Chan’s brows furrow in confusion.

“What is it?” He asks, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

“I don’t know. It’s just…what if somebody sees us?”

Realistically, you know nobody is typically around the studio after hours like this- except for you, and sometimes Chan. But he stands up anyway, making his way to the studio door and peering out the glass window.

“The door’s locked,” Chan says, nodding in the direction of the door across the room. He reaches out to lock the door to the recording booth, too. And then he turns to look at you again when you make your way over to stand beside him.

Chan doesn’t say anything when you lean back against the glass window, folding your arms behind your back while you wait for him to make another move. And then he presses a hand to the glass above your standing figure, leaning down to graze his lips over yours.

“See?” Chan questions in a voice just above a whisper. “Nobody’s around.”

And then he kisses you, his muscular stature towering over yours as you wrap two arms around him and pull him even closer to you. The thought crosses your mind briefly, that this is the last thing you would’ve expected from the evening, having started off on the wrong foot since his arrival today. But you’re not mad about the way he snakes his arms down to caress the small of your back. And you especially can’t protest when his hands find their way to your thighs, where he hoists you up into his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his lower back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He ruts against you as his kisses turn rougher, the clear erection he sports beneath his sweatpants grazing your upper thighs with every slight movement. As he kisses you, he nibbles down the convex of your throat, leaving a generous trail of bruises as his heavy breaths swirl against your flesh. His labored breathing implies every desire to take you right here in the studio, and when his fingers trail along the waistband of his gray sweatpants, your heartbeat quickens in anticipation.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tugging his pants down to free his erection. His bulge pitches eagerly against his boxers as he awaits a reply, one hand trailing gently along the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you breathe back, using one hand to skillfully unbutton your shorts and tug them down. He assists you in the process, letting them pool around your ankles, before looping one finger in the waistband of your panties to tug those down, too.

Once undressed, Chan frees his cock from his boxers, and you glance down briefly, your eyes widening at the sight. He’s much bigger than you’d anticipated, a bead of precum formed at his tip, as he wraps one hand around his base to stroke himself. His lips reattach to yours, stifled gasps making their way into your parted lips, as he guides himself against your entrance to position himself.

He doesn’t guide his cock inside just yet- instead, he rubs his moistened flesh along your aching clit in gentle back and forth motions, earning a fervent moan from you, as you wrap your legs tighter around him. He seems to hold his breath when he spreads your legs a little wider for him, and then he lets out a heavy groan when he finally pushes himself into you, slipping in with ease until he’s entirely bottomed out inside of you.

Your legs tremble when you feel the rhythmic pulse of his cock grazing your flesh, his lips pressing against yours desperately to stifle your almost pained gasps. And when your gasps quickly transition to moans, he begins to move finally, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, as he thrusts into you with passionate movements.

“You like that?” Chan questions, earning an affirmative nod from you, whose lips part in overwhelming pleasure. Your nails dig into his back over his thin white t-shirt, and you can feel his broad back muscles tense beneath his shirt as he works himself in and out of you.

For a moment, all that fills the room are the sounds of his heavy grunts as he fucks you, and the fluid sounds of your tongues swirling against each other, a string of drool connecting to your lips when he pulls away momentarily. His fingers dip into your flesh deeper as he hoists you a little higher into his arms, the erotic sight of his protruding arm veins sending a chill down your spine when you take note of how effortlessly he carries you in his strong grasp.

An ebony strand of hair falls into his face, moistened by the beads of sweat that accumulate along his chiseled features, and you reach up to tuck it out of the way, placing a gentle kiss along his jawline.

“Is it okay if I admit I’ve been picturing you like this for the past hour?” Chan questions through labored breaths, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. His thrusts slow a little as he speaks, and you smile in response, kissing him softly before speaking.

“It’s only okay because I’ve been fantasizing about it, too.”

“Yeah?” Chan questions, wincing slightly when he feels his cock twitch inside of you. “What do you say we give this another try?”

You chuckle softly again, your walls contracting around his cock as he speaks, earning another groan from him.

“Give what a try?”

“Us,” Chan clarifies, nearing your parted lips to graze them gently with his own. “This. Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Why should I say yes?” You tease, and Chan practically interrupts you, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Because I’m about to finish inside of you,” he says, maintaining a serious expression on his face, as his thrusts pick up speed again.

You don’t reply this time, your eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he continues to fuck you, a loud squelching noise filling the studio space around you. It’s a lewd contrast to the repetitive tune that’s filled it for the past hour, and your nails dig into the shirt on his back when he grazes your cervix with every harsh thrust now, a string of cusses escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he chants, his hands gripping the curves of your ass. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so fucking good.”

You try to respond, practically unable to, as his lips find yours between his groans. And then he throws his head back in a blissful state of pleasure, his moans turning to whimpers as he fucks you through his orgasm, his hot load filling you and trickling down onto your upper thighs. The warmth of his cum triggers your own release, as your walls caress his girth, a series of pornographic moans filling the space when he begins to slow his thrusts.

It’s still several minutes before Chan finally pulls out of you again, as you both attempt to catch your breath, covered in a sheen layer of sweat and panting heavily. When he’s effectively pulled out again, he loosens his grasp of you, allowing you to find your balance on the carpeted floor, as you fish around for your clothes.

It’s silent as he dresses himself, pulling on his now stained sweatpants and adjusting the waistband of his cum-stained boxers. And then he chuckles lightly, before speaking again.

“So what do you say?” Chan asks, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“About what?”

“About this,” he clarifies again. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

You begin to say something, but then you don’t, simply dressing yourself fully and reaching for your bag again. Chan’s heartbeat quickens in his chest when he comes to the realization that you appear to be exiting the studio, turning around to face him again, a small smile on your face.

“You know,” you say to him, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “If there’s one thing I’m happy you’re stubborn about, it’s this.”

His lips pull into a satisfied smile, fidgeting with the string on his sweatpants, as he ponders a response.

“Get your song done,” you tell him, gesturing to the sheet music on the stand still. “And I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

*

[neochan]

NCT GROUP CONCEPT - THE SLEEP CYCLE

warning: I am not making this up, this is actual facts, some is speculation, but this is a very real concept within the group and not a work of fiction.

(finished writing this back in 2020 and now it's relevant again so i'm adding to it and reposting it)

Concept Overview

The NCT members are going through sleep cycles, which are portrayed in music videos and extracurriculars. Every time they complete a ‘dream cycle’ they add more members into the group and when they complete a sleep cycle they make a new subunit. Now SM is straying away from this concept, but for the first two and half years its very evident this is happening.

Alternatively  - NCT only exists within our [fans] dreams, and each music video is a different dream. This explains the different themes in music videos, some not making sense. 

Debut

It starts with, “The synchronization of your dreams.” [SOYD] In this, the members have already fallen asleep, and the ‘synchronization’ is the members coming together to form NCT U. Lets not forget the concept of NCT U is for any members, from any sub units to come together and entertain you [consumers/fans] in your dreams. This also can work with the synchronization of each sub unit to form one whole dream, or NCT as a whole.

After this, NCT U is debuted with the hit song seventh sense. The seventh sense? Lucid dreaming - the ability to control your dreams. There’s more to this song than people realize. 

In the SOYD we have haechan vocals, but he isn’t in the final debut song seventh sense. People think this is in fact a hate crime SM committed, but it is only because he has fallen back to his own dream scape AKA NCT DREAM. 

After the SOYD and Seventh sense, NCT DREAM debuts. This is the first dreamscape, and the main one. The next section explains more on their sub units

NCT DREAM

They have a whole concept within their dreamscape which is why they get a whole section. NCT DREAM implemented a graduation system for the members, but no this isn’t to torture fans lmao. 

They debuted with the song Chewing Gum, which is very juvenile. Throughout NCT DREAMS discography you can watch their hits turn from juvenile bubble gum kpop to mature themes, most significantly turning after their song GO. 

The idea for this group was, the older the fans get the more they change. When you’re a kid you’re going to be dreaming about bubblegum, but when you’re older you’re going to be dreaming about driving with your friends etc (WE GO UP). 

Their whole concept stems from the brain patterns and dream growth in growing kids. This is why they implemented the graduation concept. The older you get the less you are to dream about kiddy stuff, and that’s their whole sub unit concept. 

NCT 127 

After NCT DREAM debuted, NCT 127 made their appearance with hit song FireTruck. Now the song means absolutely nothing to me, it’s just a bop, but the video means everything for the sleep cycle context.

In the video we are met with a young girl, and one of the first things the members do is destroy her sand castle. This symbolizes how they are one step up from dreams concept aka repping the dream patterns and growth of teenagers to young adults.  The destroying of her sandcastle has obvious connection to how when you grow up, all the kid stuff is no long relevant and your dreams (in life as well) change. 

Throughout the video we see the female protagonist grow up through her teen years and even into her working years. The concept is so plainly obvious but yet so hidden because why are they rapping about firetrucks (maybe because growing up puts out the fire, aka passion, that we have for our dreams?)

NCT DREAM LAB -> EMPATHY 2018

There are a series of videos titled NCTmentary, which fully back up my theories and show this concept in depth. This also predicts the new members that would be joining us a couple months after the first video was uploaded. 

They basically spell out that NCT is in the deepest sleep (REM CYCLE) at the moment and that anything can be possible, aka them debuting new members, or to us, the fans, creating new members in our dreamscape. 

The third episode title is Empathy, hinting at the new album that would dropping and again, hinting at new members. They debut three new members, but don’t make a big deal about them being debuted because NCT is in deep sleep right now. 

The entire series perfectly describes the entire concept and I could write an entire 60 page thesis on it and its meanings but i’m going to spare you. 

WAKEY WAKEY

So this song is them waking up, yep. The time between Empathy 2018 and this EP is nct going through their dream cycle, and then this is them and us finally waking up. A couple months before this, WAYV debuted, and I’m still not sure what their role in this concept is. Remember in the beginning where i told you that SM is straying from this concept, well WAYVs debut is the first big plot hole.  

There isnt much more to say, because this is kind of where SM dropped the sleep cycle concept, but!!!!!!!!! they ended up dropping the concept when they appointed a new company president so I think thats the reason. 

THIS IS WHERE I STOPPED WRITING LAST TIME. TIME TO CONTINUE THIS SHIT

WAYV

okay so wayvs concept is pretty much right there for everyone to see. it's some kind of sci-fi, space themed dreams, and i think it's awesome. that's all there is to say on their topic lol.

GOLDEN AGE

so between loveholic and golden age, we get a bunch of random music videos and albums for each subunit. again, this is because they're each in their own dreams right now...they're not really coming together. until we get to golden age. now we have everyone together, forming a multi-dimension dreamscape basically. everyone is meshed together again.

AND WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THIS? THEY DEBUTED A NEW SUBUNIT. NCT WISH.

now i don't know anything about this new subunit, BUT my theory is that because nct dream has now matured in their concept, they need to bring back the original concept of bubblegum kiddie dreams. this also fills in the plothole of them cancelling the nct dream graduation thing. now they'll have another kiddie friendly group or kiddie friendly dream scape.

AND WHAT NOW?

now they're back to being awake again. this is detailed in nct dreams new concept ()SCAPE films. they're being awoken. finally.

EXTRA - CHART

falling asleep

↓

beginning of rem sleep / individual unit albums

↓

deep sleep / album with all members / debut new ones (or take away some)

↓

end of dream cycle /making their way out of main rem sleep and having smaller individual dreams aka music videos

↓

waking up - this usually follows a japanese album (wakey wakey & gimme gimme)

↓

fully awake now and then they debut a new sub unit

EXTRA - how nct fits the chart

SLEEP CYCLE #1

synchronization of your dreams (falling asleep)

↓

a few individual unit albums (nct#127, limitless, the first, cherry bomb & we young.)

↓

they debut lucas, kun, and jungwoo and we get the first multi dreamscape album (empathy)

↓

more albums (chain, we go up, regular-irregular, regulate)

↓

awaken album (japanese) (it's important to note that the last song on the album is end to start, which means they're now going back to the start which is falling asleep again.

↓

debut of wayv

SLEEP CYCLE #2

falling asleep again (take off)

↓

a few individual unit albums (we are superhuman, we boom, take over the moon, neozone, reload, neozone: the final round)

on the same note, then we get wayvs, awaken the world (they're trying to get everyone to wake up)

↓

they debut sungchan and shotaro and we get the second multi dreamscape album (resonance)

↓

this time we get the japanese album first (loveholic)

↓

more albums (kick back, hot sauce, hello future, sticker, favorite)

↓

then we get a second multi dreamscape album, universe.

↓

then they undebut sungchan and shotaro

↓

then we go back to the albums, which coincidentally starts with glitch mode. i think this was intentional. because the order of the sleep cycle got messed up this time around, i think nct dreams glitch modes indicates there was a glitch in the dream world.

this is followed by (beatbox, two baddies, candy, phantom, ay-yo, perfume & istj)

↓

then we get another multi dreamscape album (golden age)

↓

then more albums (fact check, on my youth)

↓

debut NCT WISH (a moreso japanese unit so we don't need any more japanese albums from the other groups for the sleep cycle to continue)

SLEEP CYCLE #3 (FINALLY BACK ON TRACK FOR ANOTHER ROUND)

starts with nct dream waking up (they're new album coming out in which they're literally waking up from their dream in the video teasers.)

and thats the end......for now.

[chaoticneurodivergent]

Signs that you might have undiagnosed autism

For those who are questioning whether they may/may not be autistic, here is a list of possible signs/symptoms that you could be autistic. I broke them up into categories so they're easier to analyze.

Social:

You find eye contact uncomfortable or painful, or find that eye contact distracts you from conversation and is difficult to maintain

You find that social interaction takes a lot of planning, thought, and effort, and as a result it can be very draining

You've always felt different from other people - you may have thought when you were younger that you were a different species or there was something wrong with you or everyone else

You've often been the target of bullying, teasing, etcetera and you don't know why

You feel like you're not getting something that everyone else is or you're on a different wavelength

You struggle to pick up on social cues or things that are implied, instead relying on direct communication, and you wonder why people have to be so subtle and confusing

You get burned out or tired in social situations quickly

You find yourself memorizing scripts for how to engage in small talk rather than going with the flow and just conversing

People often say that you're rude or disrespectful and you don't understand why

You don't understand why people can't just say what they mean instead of hinting all the time

You struggle to read tone of voice and facial expressions

You often miss sarcasm or jokes that everyone else gets go over your head

You like to talk about facts in conversation rather than people or smalltalk (for example, sharing facts about a topic you're interested in VS. talking about your day)

You've often wondered why you can't fit in

Special Interests:

You often have one particular thing or a few particular things at any given time that you are very interested in, think about constantly, and want to talk about over everything else

People often tell you you're going on and on about the same thing

You are most passionate and happy when you're researching or engaging with an interest of yours (for example, learning about penguins or playing a video game you're interested in)

You want to connect with people over interests rather than traits, and you're drawn to smalltalk about facts rather than emotions or personal stories

When you're interested in something , you involve it in everything else and try to find ways to work it into all aspects of your life, or you get upset when you can't engage with it

Routine/Structure:

You rely on sameness to function - change is very stressful to you

You like to follow a strict routine, either of specific times or specific activities (e.g. I eat a specific brand of chocolate pudding in my specific chair once a day)

People tell you you need to be more flexible

You like to eat the same foods over and over, watch the same movies over and over, or listen to the same song on repeat

Familiarity is more satisfying to you than novelty

Sensory:

You cannot handle loud noises, bright lights, crowds, being touched, or any other high sensory input (it can be any one of these, not necessarily all of them)

You sometimes feel understimulated and seek out deep pressure (weight on you, tight hugs, etc.)

You sometimes feel overloaded with sensory input and need to go into a quiet place alone to calm down

If you can't go to a quiet place during these moments, you may either shut down (have trouble speaking, moving, etc.) or meltdown

You like to "stim" by doing any of the following:

Singing, repeating words over and over,. making noises, or otherwise creating noise (vocal/auditory)

Looking at bright lights or sparkly, bright, shiny, etc. things

Tapping, clapping, hand flapping, wiggling or making motions with your fingers, rubbing or touching something with a nice texture (tactile)

Spinning, jumping, balancing (vestibular)

Putting things in your mouth or chewing on things (oral)

You sometimes don't notice pain / notice you have scratches or bruises and don't know where you got them from (nociceptive hyposensitivity)

Other Common:

You can hear well, but have difficulty interpreting words / processing sound and understanding what people are saying (auditory processing difficulties)

You have synesthesia (sensory crossover - tasting sound, hearing sound, tasting colors, colors for letters and numbers, spatial locations for days of the week or months, there are many types)

You have little empathy and have trouble connecting with others' feelings

Alternatively, you have a lot of empathy, more than the average person, and you feel others' feelings very intensely

You have been diagnosed with ADHD (commonly comorbid + also often misdiagnosed instead of autism, especially in girls)

You have poor coordination, either in gross motor skills, tasks like sports, not bumping into things etc., and fine motor skills, handwriting etc., if this is a particularly significant difficulty for you this may even be dyspraxia or dysgraphia, which have high comorbidity

You have very uneven skills, aka great difficulty in one area with great skill in another

You have difficulty with executive functions - planning, working/short term memory, organization, difficulty starting a task or switching tasks, difficulty following multiple directions (do this then this)

Alternatively, when you get focused on a task you can stay focused on one thing for hours and hours and be so sucked into it you notice nothing else

If you relate to a lot of these, that is definitely not a diagnosis, but you definitely might want to do some research. This is not a diagnostic list in any way. Informed self diagnosis should involve doing a lot of research and spending time in the community to see if you relate and feel like this explains you or this is where you fit in.

Good luck!

[sleepingtimber]

Things my non-alterhuman partner does that are cute and make my tail wag:

- barks with me when I start barking at something

- do a little howl and get me howling/vocalizing excitedly when he notices I'm shifty

- puts on my barking song in the car; song with noises that sound like dog barking that I really like

- sends me songs that have howl-like parts in them

- shows me dog/wolf memes or posts about being a feral creature and goes "this is u"

- points out that the shirt he got me as a holiday gift matches my collar

- reffers to me as a dog man

- hypes me up when I'm chewing on something which immediately puts me in excited dog mode

- offers to go with me to the forested park/hiking area when I'm shifty to explore and run around

- alternatively if we can't go to the forested spot, taking me to run around somewhere else instead (and watching me fall flat on my ass because I'm clumsy)

- makes dog/wolf jokes with me that make me feel validated and comfortable in myself and my therianthropy

- uses his own experiences that he can somewhat compare to some of my experiences as a way to understand my alterhumanity to the best of his ability

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter One

A whole week had passed since The Breakup, and Luka was still reeling.

“You brought this upon yourself,” he reminded bitterly as he rolled over and found the space on the bed next to him empty and cold.

He kept telling himself, “You broke up with her”, “It was the right thing to do”, and “You couldn’t keep waiting for her to move on. That wasn’t healthy”, but the words never quite sank in.

One week later, he was even more of a mess than when he’d finally gotten the courage to break things off. The pain of being without her, knowing that it was really over, was worse than having her by his side knowing that she was thinking about someone else when she kissed him.

At least before he’d had a place in her heart, even if it was only second.

With a groan, Luka pushed himself up to sitting and grabbed his phone off the nightstand.

There was a text from Juleka berating him for drinking too much, not returning her texts, and taking crap care of himself.

Rose had also sent him a message reminding him about family dinner that Sunday.

Jacob, the bassist from his band Eternal Nocturne, had texted him not to be late for the auditions for a new lead singer that afternoon.

Luka cursed, setting his phone down without replying to anyone. He scrubbed his face with both hands and then forced himself to kick the covers off and get up.

It was already almost noon, and the mature, adult part of his brain knew that he had to get his stuff together. He was twenty-six, and he’d been through breakups before. He would survive this one as well…even though it didn’t feel like it at the moment.

He pushed himself out of bed and began to search around for something clean to wear.

He really needed to do laundry. And the dishes. And the grocery shopping.

Luka winced as he uncovered a lacey pink bra with white polka dots under a pile of jeans that reeked of alcohol and stale bar smell.

He needed to make a breakup box, put all of her leftover things in it, and send it back to her.

His heart sank at that realization, the finality of it.

He put the bra back under the jeans and promised himself he’d deal with it later. When he was feeling better…. Whenever that happened to be.

The important thing just then was to find something that could pass as clean so that he could get to the audition and not let his bandmates down. He was already disappointing himself and his family. He needed to do right by somebody at least.

 Adrien was screwed.

He’d been back in Paris for two days, and, already, his funds were almost entirely used up. He’d found a cheap hostel in Pigalle where he’d been able to shower and get a decent night’s rest without having to worry about anyone bothering him, but he wouldn’t be able to stay there for much longer unless he found work.

That was turning out to be much harder than anticipated. In Paris, people were a lot stricter about having to have valid identification to secure employment. They were also a lot more persnickety about hiring Adrien Agreste, even if it was just to wash dishes, clean hotel rooms, or wait tables.

Maybe he could talk to the owners of the hostel about working the front desk. He’d done that before in Nice and Lyon.

If the situation really got dire, he could always try to find someone like Nino from his past who would be sympathetic and maybe let him sleep on a couch or something until he could get back up on his feet again.

He didn’t want to do that, but it was beginning to look like he had no other choice. It had been four years since his father’s arrest, four years since Adrien lost his family, his fortune, and even the ability to use his own name. He’d thought that maybe people would have cooled off and moved on, that it was safe to come back to Paris, back home…but it wasn’t looking like it so far.

He was starting to think that it had been a mistake to return, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He was tired of roaming the country and scraping by, and he couldn’t go on like that any longer. He wanted to establish roots and make a place for himself. He wanted to feel grounded again.

He was determined to figure things out and make it work, and if that meant going door to door to every restaurant, shop, and hotel in Paris until he found a job, that’s what he was going to do. He was through running away; it was time to settle down and make a life for himself.

He wasn’t sure what that life would look like, but if it included years of hard work, a partner who saw him and not his father’s crimes, some children who inherited his mother’s smile, and a pet or two, Adrien would be content.

He just had to find a job first so that he didn’t end up on the street nicking food out of restaurant dumpsters again.

As he descended the steps into the Métro, a flyer advertising auditions for a lead singer for a band caught Adrien’s eye.

He stopped and studied it, noting that auditions had begun twenty minutes prior at a bar just a few blocks away.

He grabbed the flyer and took off at a jog.

 “No one’s coming,” Jacob grumbled half an hour into the audition time when it became apparent that not a single soul was going to show up.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Josie the drummer agreed, tipping back on her barstool so that it balanced precariously on two legs. “So, what are we going to do without a vocalist?”

“Yeah, we’ve got that gig coming up this weekend,” Jacob reminded, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Josie and Jacob both looked to Marc—guitarist, keyboardist, and the band’s unofficial leader/mum.

“Josephine, don’t do that; you’re going to fall,” Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…I mean, I can cover lead for one night.”

“Who’s going to do your backup vocals, then,” Josie demanded, setting her stool legs back on the ground.

“Luka can,” Marc informed.

Jacob snorted. “Luka’s drunk.”

“Luka is not drunk,” Marc growled defensively. “He knows better than to show up drunk. He’s just hung over, isn’t that right, Luc?”

“Yes, and I’m nursing a killer headache, so if we could take the volume of the talking down a few decibels, it would be greatly appreciated,” Luka groaned, pulling his newsboy cap down a little further to shield his eyes from the bright light emanating from the stage where the people auditioning were supposed to be performing.

“And who’s going to do Luka’s backup vocals?” Josie persisted, lowering her voice out of consideration for Luka.

“I don’t know. Jacob?” Marc suggested uncertainly.

Josie let out a bark of laughter. “Jacob can’t walk and talk at the same time. How is he supposed to play and sing?”

“Josie,” Marc scolded. “Be nice.”

“No, she’s got a point,” Jacob cut in. “I’ve walked into poles before because I didn’t see them because I was talking to someone. Multitasking really isn’t my strong suit.”

Marc opened his mouth to reply, paused to consider his words, and then shut his mouth.

“Excuse me?” a new voice called out.

The band turned their heads to find a thin, scraggly young man standing in the doorway.

He had scruffy, wild blonde hair and piercing peridot eyes, and it was impossible to say how old he was exactly. He looked young, but he had one of those ageless faces that could have just as easily been twenty as forty. His clothes had been expensive, good quality when they were new, but now they were well-worn and showing their age.

“Are auditions over already?” he inquired, taking a tentative step into the bar.

The door closed behind him, and now that he wasn’t backlit by the daylight pouring in from outside, Luka could see him clearly.

His eyes widened as he recognized his former crush whom he hadn’t seen in four long years.

“No, we’re still going,” Jacob informed.

“You here to try out, Kid?” Josie asked with a big smile, turning on her stool to face him.

Adrien nodded, holding up the flyer in his hand. “I just learned about the audition, like, ten minutes ago, so I don’t have anything prepared in advance, but I’m a good singer with a pretty expansive range. I’m a quick study too, so, if you teach me, I’ll pick up your songs right away.”

“All right,” Marc agreed with a grin. “Go ahead and take the stage, and we’ll see what you’ve got. What’s your name?”

“Émile,” Adrien responded with a smile as he took his spot in front of the microphone. “Émile Dupain.”

Luka frowned.

Surely, he wasn’t mistaken. The years had changed Adrien, yes, but he wasn’t that different. Luka knew that face, those eyes, that smile.

“Nice to meet you, Émile,” Marc greeted amicably. “I’m Marc. I play keyboard and some guitar depending on the song. I also do backup vocals.”

“I’m Josie. Percussion,” Josie took over. “This idiot is Jacob, our bassist,”

Jacob gamely raised a hand. “Sup.”

“and Mr. Doom and Gloom over there is Luc,” Josie completed the introductions. “He plays guitar and does backup vocals. Ignore him for right now. He just broke up with his girlfriend, so he’s kind of in a funk. Normally, he’s the nicest person, so give him another week and you’ll be best friends.”

“Thank you for broadcasting all that, Josie,” Luka grumbled as he waved at Adrien, just waiting for him to recognize Luka.

He worried that if Adrien were trying to conceal his identity, he wouldn’t appreciate the reunion, but a part of Luka hoped that Adrien would be excited to see him again. Luka was certainly happy to see Adrien.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Adrien replied, friendly expression not changing in the slightest. “What kind of music do you guys usually play?”

Luka fought down a tsunami of disappointment at Adrien not seeming to recognize him.

“Usually alternative or punk,” Marc supplied, not appearing to notice the way Luka slumped in his chair. “We mostly do covers, but we have our own songs too. Our next show is Saturday, but we’ll just be doing covers for that one, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to get up to speed if we decide to hire you.”

Adrien nodded. “Sounds good. I’m a hard worker, so I’ll get the music memorized right away and be ready for the show.”

“Have you ever been in a band before, Émile?” Josie inquired curiously.

“Yes,” Adrien answered with confidence. “I’m a little out of practice at the moment, but I played keyboard and did a little bit of backup vocals.”

“What kind of band was it?” Marc asked.

“Uh…the genre’s called kawaiicore, if you’ve heard of it,” Adrien informed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Jacob’s forehead furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall. “It sounds familiar, but I’m coming up blank. What’s kawaiicore?”

“You know when I showed you Babymetal?” Luka reminded.

Jacob’s face lit up, and Josie started to nod too.

“Like Kitty Section!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Adrien perked up. “That’s—”

He cut himself off and went pale when he realized that telling them that he had been the keyboardist in Kitty Section was just as good as revealing his identity.

“That’s right,” Adrien completed. “Like Kitty Section. I can do other genres, though. I can sing anything: musical theatre, opera, jazz, pop—whatever.”

“So, what will you be singing for us today?” Marc prompted, very interested in seeing what Adrien would come up with.

“Well, I’ve kind of been living under a rock lately, so I’m not exactly up on what’s popular now,” Adrien hedged. “I mostly listen to music in Japanese, so maybe I could just sing something so that you can see if my voice is a good fit for you guys, and then you can give me a list of songs you usually do so that I can memorize them.”

“Sounds fair,” Josie replied with a shrug. “So, what are you going to sing?”

Adrien bit his lip and took a deep breath, scanning his mind for a song that would show off his abilities.

“Do you know Charles?” Luka spoke up. “That was popular a couple years ago. If you know that one, I could play the guitar part along with you.”

Adrien had been the one to introduce the song to Luka, and they’d played it together with Kitty Section with Adrien doing the main vocals. Luka still played that song from time to time when he was feeling nostalgic.

On stage, Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I know Charles. It’s one of my favourites. You wouldn’t mind?”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at Luka’s facial features, but the hat blocked Adrien’s view, and it was difficult to discern Luka’s face clearly in the dim lighting of the bar when contrasted with the blinding lights on stage.

“I’d be happy to,” Luka assured, reaching down to grab his guitar off of the amp where it lay.

“Thank you,” Adrien replied with a big smile that made Luka positive that he hadn’t been mistaken about “Émile’s” identity. “Ready when you are.”

Luka counted them in and began to play.

Adrien blew the band away with his vocals. His voice was smooth and lyrical, gliding over the notes like a swan across a pond.

“He has really clear intonation,” Marc hummed softly in approval to his bandmates after listening to Adrien sing for a bit.

“And he wasn’t lying about his range,” Josie chuckled as she drummed out the rhythm on her thighs and danced in her seat.

“I certainly can’t hit those notes,” Jacob laughed.

“Neither can I,” Josie snorted. “Well, maybe on a good day, but not the way he does. He just shoots all the way up there and drops back down again like it’s nothing.”

“It’s so clean too,” Marc added. “His voice doesn’t crack or squeak or waver or anything. He hits those notes dead center, and then he stays there until it’s time to move to the next note.”

“I think we struck gold,” Jacob snickered.

“He’s super cute too.” Josie smirked deviously. “He’s sure to attract a crowd. We just need to put some eyeliner on him and get him in leather pants, and—”

“—Distracting me,” Luka hissed quietly so that he wouldn’t interrupt Adrien.

Jacob waggled his eyebrows as he whispered, “What? Imagining Émile in leather pants?”

“Jacques,” Luka warned testily.

“He’s totally your type, though,” Josie joined in helpfully. “I think a new romance is just the thing to get you over your breakup.”

“Jacob, Josephine,” Marc called quietly but firmly. “Leave him alone.”

Josie and Jacob both held up their hands in a placating gesture and let the subject drop.

Luka redoubled his focus on his fingers, trying to banish the thought of Chat Noir from his mind.

“Waraiatte sayonara,” Adrien finished softly and then looked to the band for their judgment call.

Jacob started clapping, and Josie wolf-whistled.

“Can we do that song sometime?” Jacob directed at Marc. “I bet the bass part is killer.”

“Yeah!” Josie cheered. “I can’t wait to get my drumsticks on that.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t,” Marc agreed and then turned back to Adrien with a smile. “You really can sing. That was great.”

“You think so?” Adrien asked with a breathless giddiness, starting to squirm in excitement.

“Definitely,” Luka assured. “You sing like an angel.”

“Make him sing something else,” Josie demanded of Marc who had the grace to blush.

“Josephine, I can’t just make him sing for us,” he sighed and then looked to Adrien. “Would you mind singing something else?”

“Not at all,” Adrien easily agreed, eager to please.

He needed the job desperately, and if he could get paid just for singing, that was certainly easier than anything else he’d done for money the past four years.

“Um…let me think of something else I could sing for you,” he mumbled, chewing on his lip as he wracked his thoughts.

“…Do you know Ranbu no Melody?” Luka suggested. “That’s another one I could play along with you, if you’re familiar with it. I only know the minute and a half that was used as the Bleach opening theme song, though.”

“Yeah, I think I remember how that version goes,” Adrien fibbed.

Luka and Adrien had watched portions of Bleach together, and Adrien had sung along with all of the openings. If Luka still remembered the guitar part, surely, Adrien remembered the lyrics.

Luka counted them in again, and Adrien proved not to have forgotten at all. He sang with every ounce of confidence and enthusiasm that he had back when they’d been teenagers watching anime together.

It was reassuring for Luka to know that, even though Adrien might have changed in the years they’d been apart, there were some things that remained the same.

“How do you know all this weeb music, Luka?” Jacob wondered.

“The Boy was a total anime nerd,” Luka explained with an affectionate smile.

Jacob and Josie let out soft “Oooooh”s and started to nod.

The Boy was practically a mythical figure at this point in their friendship. Luka had talked a lot about The Boy over the years, just like he’d talked a lot about The Girl. Luka had dated many people and loved a small handful, but no one had penetrated so deeply into Luka’s heart as Adrien and Marinette.

“…He’s really good,” Marc observed, visibly delighted as he listened to Adrien. “He puts a lot of emotion into his voice, and I am loving it.”

“Yeah,” Jacob chimed in. “I have no idea what the hell he’s saying, but I feel it, Man. It’s intense.”

Luka’s smile turned melancholy as he remarked, “If I remember correctly, the song is about soldiering on and taking on whatever difficulty is in front of you and then carrying those experiences forward to present them to the person you want to spend your life with. It’s kind of like…we’re the sum of our experiences, and the singer hopes that the person they love will accept them anyway, even though they’ve got cracks and jagged edges in places.”

“Wow,” Josie whispered. “That’s…deep.”

“That’s what I got out of it, anyway,” Luka quickly added. “The Boy translated it into French for me, and then I kind of interpreted it artistically, taking some liberties, but that’s what I got out of it.”

“I like this song,” Jacob decided, tapping his foot along. “I like this kid.”

“We’re adopting him,” Josie decreed.

“Yeah.” Jacob nodded resolutely. “I need to get him to show me more weeb music. I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

“Wooo!!!” Josie cheered loudly as Adrien finished. “We love you!”

“Sing more!” Jacob encouraged as he clapped.

A blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks like fire catching on dried grass.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked to Marc for instruction, sensing that Marc was the leader of their little circus.

“I think it would be good if we all played something together to see if we mesh well as a band,” Marc decided. “Would that be okay with you, Émile?”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.”

Jacob turned to Luka. “What song does he know that we could all play?”

Luka shrank, semi-hiding behind his guitar. “Why are you asking me?”

“You did the psychic thing with the songs in Japanese,” Jacob reasoned with a shrug. “Do it again.”

“Yeah,” Josie urged, reaching across Marc to poke Luka. “Do it.”

“I don’t know,” Luka grumbled. “How about This is Gospel? We play that one sometimes.”

And he had taught Adrien how to play it on guitar, so maybe Adrien remembered the lyrics.

“I know that one,” Adrien offered.

“Awesome!” Josie trilled, jumping down from her stool and heading over to the stage to join Adrien.

Once she reached him, she pulled him into a crushing hug.

It was kind of cute. Josie was a statuesque six-foot-two, and Adrien was only five-eight. (Five-ten with shoes on, he used to always insist, sensitive about his lack of height.)

“Hi. We’re adopting you,” Josie informed him as she pulled back with a grin and then abruptly turned on her heel and headed for her drum set.

Marc shook his head, getting up and making his way to the stage to turn on his keyboard.

“Josephine, don’t scare the poor kid,” he chastised wearily.

“I’m not!” she insisted. “I’m being friendly!”

Marc placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder as he passed, assuring, “She means well. If we ever make you uncomfortable, just say something, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien assured, wiping at the tears beading at the corners of his eyes, hoping that Marc couldn’t see. “I’m just…I’m not used to people being so friendly. I don’t…people don’t hug me. Ever.”

Marc frowned at that, his mum senses kicking in. “Do you like being hugged?”

Adrien nodded.

“Okay then.” Marc didn’t even hesitate as he pulled Adrien in for a hug—not a guy hug with a pat on the back, but an honest to goodness hug.

He pulled back with a smile, instructing, “Just let us know whenever you want a hug, okay? You’re family now. Family get hugs whenever.”

Adrien had to actually bite his tongue to hold in a whimper. He couldn’t find his voice to reply, so he nodded and rubbed away the tears that were quickly taking the previous ones’ place.

“I’ll give you a hug in a minute, Kid,” Jacob assured, picking up his bass. “I’m just lazy, and I’m already set up over here.”

“Same,” Luka latched onto Jacob’s excuse, figuring that now wasn’t the best time for a reunion with Adrien.

Josie counted them in and started the heartbeat-like rhythm that began the song.

Adrien took a deep breath and sang.

The full sound of the band all playing together resonated powerfully through the bar, giving Adrien chills.

It wasn’t perfect. The timing was a little off in places, and Adrien needed to learn his cues if he was going to sync up with the others. They needed to work out the backup vocals and other little things to make the performance come out smooth, but they were starting in a good place. They could polish this up and make it shine.

It felt good to be playing with a band again. Adrien hadn’t realized how much he’d missed making music with others, being a part of a team.

He’d been so alone these past four years.

Partly that was his own fault. He’d run away both literally and figuratively and shut people out who otherwise would have been there for him. He’d let pride and shame and fear of rejection win…and now he was finally realizing how exhausting it had been.

Now that these nice people were opening up to him and accepting him into their little family, it finally dawned upon Adrien that he’d been foolish to try to make it on his own for so long. He hadn’t realized how draining it had been until he’d been offered the chance to rest.

He needed to call Nino and reconnect.

He needed to find Marinette and apologize for giving up his Miraculous and taking off because he’d been overwhelmed after his father’s arrest and hadn’t felt worthy of being Chat Noir.

He needed to fix things, fix his life.

As the song came to an end, a feeling of calm and peace settled over Adrien.

He was still broke and not sure where his next meal was coming from or if he’d have a roof over his head in the intervening days between now and the show on Saturday when he’d presumably get paid, but, oddly enough, he felt a little better about things.

“We killed that,” Jacob preened as he set down his bass and went over to join the others on stage. “Excellent work, Kid,” he announced, pulling Adrien into a hug.

“I’m guessing I got the job?” Adrien hazarded a guess, looking around at his bandmates for confirmation.

“Oh, definitely,” Josie assured. “You know that one meme? ‘I’ve only known Émile for twenty minutes, but if anything happened to him, I’d kill everyone and then myself.’”

Adrien cracked up, beaming. “I don’t think anyone’s ever felt that strongly about me before.”

“Poor boy. And now he’s stuck with us,” Jacob snickered, giving Adrien’s hair a tussle.

“Let’s exchange contact information so we can get ahold of you,” Marc suggested. “Are you available tomorrow? We’re going to need a lot of rehearsal time between now and Saturday in order to be ready.”

“Yes. I’m available,” Adrien quickly confirmed. “I don’t have a phone, though, so if we could communicate by email, that would be great. I’m le chat de la princesse de la nuit on gmail. All lowercase and run together.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Marc assured, getting out his phone and opening up a new email. “I’ll email you all of our numbers and emails so you can get in touch with us. I’ll email you again later with the place and time. It’ll probably be Phantasmagoria over in the eighth arrondissement. You know it?”

Adrien nodded. “I had a friend whose band played there. He used to sneak me in before I turned eighteen.”

The fond smile on Adrien’s face gave Luka some hope that maybe he was still a good memory for Adrien and that Adrien wouldn’t be too upset when he realized just whose band he had inadvertently joined.

It didn’t occur to Adrien until later to wonder if Luka still played at Phantasmagoria and if Raoul the bartender still worked there and would recognize Adrien.

“Good,” Marc chuckled. “I’m glad you know it. Like I said, I’ll confirm place and time later this afternoon.”

He then turned to Luka. “Hey, Rich Boy. Would you mind picking up a phone for Émile? It’s going to be really inconvenient if we can’t get ahold of him.”

“You don’t have to do to that!” Adrien looked frantically between Marc and Luka. “I’ll-I’ll pay you back when I can. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Angel,” Luka assured with a kind smile as he got up and started to put his guitar away. “My bio dad got hit with a huge dose of guilt a few years ago for never bothering to find out I existed let alone pay child support for me, so I’ve got a ridiculous trust fund that I don’t know what to do with now.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed, and he wanted to protest out of principle, but even he had to acknowledge that it would be really useful to have a phone, and he was too down on his luck to afford one.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it, Luc,” he replied with sincerity.

“Sure thing.” Luka smiled, giving Adrien a wink and doing an internal victory dance when Adrien smiled back at him.

“…Well, I guess if you guys don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to head out,” Adrien excused himself politely, starting to make his way towards the door. “It was lovely meeting you all.”

“You too, Kid!” Jacob assured, and Josie seconded the sentiment.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Émile.” Marc waved him off. “Be safe.”

Adrien returned the wave and turned to go.

Luka bit his lip, debating with himself.

“What’s that face you’re making?” Josie snickered, coming back to perch on her barstool.

“You should go ask him out to coffee,” Jacob suggested as he came over, making a shooing gesture at Luka.

“Jacob will babysit your stuff for you,” Marc volunteered.

Luka looked to Jacob, and Jacob shrugged.

“We all want you to start feeling better soon,” Josie explained, giving Luka a soft smile. “Spending time with someone new will be good for you.”

“Just don’t come on too strong so that you scare him off,” Marc cautioned. “Don’t do that heart-song stuff. He’s a good kid, and we need him for Saturday.”

Luka rolled his eyes, handing his guitar to Jacob. “Thanks, guys, but this isn’t a romantic thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Josie agreed disingenuously, a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Have fun,” Jacob snickered.

Luka shook his head, making for the door.

He looked back and forth once he got outside of the bar and just happened to spot Adrien turning the corner.

He raced after him, slowing down as he began to catch up because he figured the last thing Adrien needed was someone he didn’t recognize barreling towards him and making him think he was in danger.

He decelerated into a walk and took a few deep breaths before calling out, “Adrien!”

Adrien froze, every muscle in his back going tense as he slowly turned.

“I’m sorry. I think you’ve confused me with someone el—” he started to say but then stopped short as he got a good look at Luka in the light of day without his cap obscuring the view.

Adrien’s eyes widened, his cheeks lost all colour, and his mouth dropped open.

“Luka?” he breathed, his heart stopping in his chest.

[mulletcal]

behind the scenes - calum hood blurb.

description: you’re helping cal film the wildflower video, but you’re very distracting.

a/n: me? writing smut for the second time? shocking. hopefully it’s alright!!

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1.5k

--------

The hardest thing for Calum during this lockdown was not having the ability to see his bandmates whenever and wherever he pleased.  Sure, he had you, but it wasn’t the same as Ashton showing up upwards of five times a week with some new pastry he learned how to make, or some new vocal group a fan tweeted to him.

It bummed him out more when the shoot for the Wildflower video had been cancelled - he knew it was necessary, but the concept that they had was so fun and nothing was going to top it - that was, until Andy and Sarah informed them that they were learning animation, and they would be sending a sanitized green screen to his house for him to film in front of.

Sheepishly, he asked you to help him film the video - or at least provide some direction while he propped his phone onto a makeshift stand in the living room.  You were more than happy to help, making him giggle when you would raise your eyebrows at him suggestively on occasion.  After the first few takes, you set his phone down, propping it up just so, just because you wanted to bop along in the background without making the frame shaky.

Calum grew increasingly distracted as you did so, though, because you were doing lewd gestures, continuously mouthing the words ‘cum’ and ‘fuck’ at the appropriate parts - despite Calum’s statement about the song being about “abundance”, you found it hilarious to do so anyways.  You were sure he was going to crack soon, seeing the look on his face that was his tell when he was up to something.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” Calum chuckled, running his hands over his face. 

“Dunno what you mean darling,” You teased, stepping around the stand and wrapping your arms around his neck.  Beginning to trail kisses along his jaw, you felt the muscle tense under your lips.

“Fuck, the camera is still goin’,” Calum muttered, grabbing his phone, placing it close to his face in what can only be described as his ‘hammerhead’ pose before murmuring, “Andy, I know you know this - but do not put that in.”

After he stopped recording, Calum tossed his phone onto the couch, turning to you with a smirk on his lips.

“We’re not having sex near this green screen it has to go to Ashton after this,” You warned, yelping in surprise when Calum, in one swift motion, wrapped his arms around your thighs and lifted you over his shoulder.

“Don’t you fret, flower, we’re gonna need some space for you to spread out.”

You figured he’d take you to the bedroom, easier access to lay you out completely, but to your surprise you were met with the cold marble of the kitchen island against your thighs.  Once you were eye to eye, Calum gave you a wicked grin, his fingers ghosting up your calves, continuing the trail of his fingers until they were at the hem of your - well, his - shirt.

“Couldn’t wait til we reached the bedroom, could you?” You asked, leaning back on your hands.

“Baby, all our best meals are had in the kitchen.  This should be no exception,” Calum’s lips worked their way down your jaw, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.  

His fingers met the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down and helping you lift your hips to do so.  Rather than just tossing them to the floor, Calum tucked them into his pocket, making you laugh slightly.  You knew he’d find them later and you’d be back here tonight.  Well, you hoped in the actual bedroom instead - the marble was cold against your bare skin.

Calum definitely took his time working his way down, causing you to squirm as you grew more impatient.  His hands were firmly on your thighs, seemingly holding you down so you wouldn’t get any wise ideas.

After what seemed like years, he pushed your legs apart.  His lips continued to work your neck, but he brought a hand up to press his fingers against your clit, rubbing small circles causing you to gasp. 

“Cal, please,” you whined, hips lurching forwards to get more friction somehow. 

“Please what, flower.  Tell me what you like,” Calum smirked against your skin, slowing the movement of his fingers.

“Uh-huh, no.  You don’t get to use your own lyrics against me.  I won’t hesitate to walk away and finish the job myself,” Your words were threatening, which you knew would get him going - but you hoped it would get him going in the direction you wanted him.

Calum pulled back from your lips, and moved his hand away as well, “My baby thinks she can threaten me, huh? Did you forget the last time you tried that?”

You shivered at the memory, but bit your lip as you looked at him through your lashes, “Please baby, I want your mouth.”

His face went from a relatively serious one, to breaking into a cheshire cat like grin before he dropped to his knees, “That’s a good girl.”

Light kisses were pressed up your legs, Calum going back to taking his time - but you were grateful he was getting closer to where you wanted him.  Parting your legs even further so he could take all of you in.

“So ready for me, so needy,” He hummed, sucking a mark into your thigh.  You chewed on your lower lip, always finding his need to mark you incredibly sexy.

Calum looked up at you one last time, taking your legs and putting them over his shoulders before he dove in, plump lips attaching to your clit, and you felt him flatten his tongue against it.  A moan escaped your lips as he worked, alternating between circling his tongue around your clit, and sucking it.  

“Baby,” you whispered softly, “More, please.  Please,” You begged, entangling your fingers into his blonde locks.

Your legs tightened against his shoulders when you felt his fingers press at your entrance, about to rock your hips to encourage more; but his opposite hand was holding you down, and you let out a frustrated groan. You were rewarded shortly after though when he finally pushed two of his fingers fully inside, curling them slightly as he did.

Calum moaned before he pulled his lips away, his fingers pumping into you while he looked up at you to see your reaction.  He loved to watch you, the way your lips would roll between your teeth, or the way you would close your eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as you tried to hold out on your orgasm. 

“You’re so stunning baby, love how you look right now.  Should eat all my meals here,” He teased, dipping his head down and delivering small kitten licks against you. Adding a third finger, Calum no longer held you back while he worked his fingers into you, reattaching his lips to your clit. 

“Fuck Cal,” You moaned, tightening your fingers into his hair which made him moan.  His moan sent shocks through your system, goosebumps raising on your skin as you got closer to the edge.  “So close baby.” You were gasping for air at this point, hips working on their own accord, rolling up to meet his tongue and fingers.

“C’mon baby, it’s okay,” He encouraged, curling his fingers and applying more pressure against your most sensitive spot. Calum worked his tongue against you with a new fervour, enjoying the soft whines that were emitting from your lips while he did.

You couldn’t hold back any longer, hips stilling as you reached your peak, Calum continuing his motions while you rode out your orgasm.  Releasing his hair when you came down finally, he used his tongue to clean you up before standing once again to his full height.

“M’gonna need you finish filming,” You spoke in between pants, tugging the front of his mesh shirt so you could kiss him. 

In the heat of the moment, you both hadn’t heard Calum’s phone letting out a continuous stream of vibrations.  Furrowing his brows when he realized his phone was going off, he headed back into the living room, picking up his phone to see Ashton’s name flash across the caller I.D.

“Hey Ash, what’s up?” Calum asked when he answered, wiping at his lips and tossing you a wink.

“Wow, fucking finally.   Thought you had fallen into your pool or some shit.  You almost done with the green screen? Andy said he called you but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m fine! We were just busy filming,” His excuse was met with a sigh on the other line.

“Mate, you’re filming this shit on your phone.  You’re gonna have to think of a better excuse next time.  Finish up so we can get this shit done.  And I mean the video, love you bye.”

Calum returned the sentiment, chuckling as he hung up and turned to you, “So. Next time I’m gonna have to wait till after I finish filming.”

tag list:  @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​

[ofherlionheart]

tbh if u answer all of the q's for the boo chronicles i would love 2 hear it!!! im obsessed and am making all my friends read it. but like no pressure

anon ilysm. im aiming for a reasonable bedtime so i won’t answer all the Qs i haven’t done yet but!! i will absolutely answer some b/c im so touched that you enjoyed the boo chronicles enough to hound your friends about it 💛

7. Where did the title come from?

i’ve already babbled abt the fic titles being inspired by song lyrics, but wanna know very specifically where the series title came from?

“Good night, boo.”

i wrote this without rly thinking abt it early in part one, but then i had z call s boo in the next scene and suddenly it became not just A Thing but The Thing

10. Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

boring honest answer is that this was all born out of @zukkaweek 2021. the maybe-more-interesting answer is that, unlike other pairings i’ve written for, i feel like zuko n sokka work together b/c of their v specific canon contexts, not some semi-inherent sense of fitting together. the way their plots and growth converge and diverge in atla is what makes them a compelling pairing to me, so when i wanted to do a modern au take on them, i felt like i had to build a very specific world and story that would still lend to them growing to suit each other, rather than taking two dudes and plopping them in a coffee shop (which, for the record, i still did anyway. lol)

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story?

i didn’t listen to these artists/songs in order to ~get into the mood~, but this is what i was really into when i first began the series. was also going thru yet another mini identity crisis at the time so it’s not a coincidence that these are almost all AAPI artists

keshi – alternative/indie

AUDREY NUNA – r&b, rap

tobi lou (specifically Looped Up feat. VERNON) – hip-hop, rap

REI AMI (especially do it right feat. aminé) – anti-pop

hana vu – DIY

BTS

luke chiang – r&b, soul

brb. – r&b

14. Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

not when i initially started/published it—i was writing it for me and just hoped some people might like it. now, though, that i have some distance? hmm. cultural and racial identity strongly inform character even if a narrative isn’t “about race.” one of the kindest things you can do for yourself is surround yourself with kind people. love is as much in the grace notes as in the symphonic swell. theory of the humanities high academia flavor is, all at once, so fun and such bullshit and so important. 

also, everyone, pls listen to AUDREY NUNA. ‘damn Right’ features the slant rhyme “i chew like i’m pika/achu like paprika,” her collabs w/ jack harlow, SABA, and haeil are incred, and then, on top of her rap game, she’s ALSO capable of whipping out vocals like ‘Time’ and ‘Space’??? im so fckn in love

ask me Qs abt fics!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I'm obsessed with the famous singer with Calum universe and imagine your about to realease your first album and you ask them to come into the studio and listen to it and they all just give there genuine opinion on it while your head is on Calum's shoulder and your just break all the songs down for them and what they mean to you. But what if it was like Clairo's album bc that shit just SLAPS ok gn

Thanks for the suggestion! I tweaked it just a little bit. I hope you enjoy. 

Here are parts one, two, three, four, five and six. This is the Distance series on my masterlist!

If you have any other suggestions for this series, please send them to me! I’ll use as many as I can while still progressing this story along!

_______________________________

The flight is no doubt long for Calum and he sleeps like a log on her couch, cuddled up with her dog. He’ll admit to missing Duke, but it’s nice to have another furry body around to curl up with. She manages to him wake up for food. Watching him sit at her tiny dining room table, with his eyes constantly blinking from sleep lingering, she can barely keep a grip on his plate. She wants to hate what Calum is doing to her. But for a fleeting moment she lets herself linger on the thought that maybe she can have this one day. As the plate settles with a soft thud, Calum smiles up at her. “Thanks,” he says, voice thick and deeper than normal. Her spine shivers, toes curling. It’s not like she hasn’t experienced this before while she stayed with him. But this--this just feels different between them now.  

“No problem. I still can’t believe you just hopped onto a plan for me? That’s so insane.”

“Of course. I just wanted to help. I’d do it again too if I had to.” 

“I have to go into the studio the rest of the week. I’m sorry about that.”

Calum takes her hand, across the coffee table, fingers gently grazing her skin. “You say that like I don’t understand.” They laugh, gently only cut across by the sound of her dog’s paw across her hardwood floors. “You gotta work. I’m just here to help out.”

The jetlag isn't as major as Calum thought it would be. It helps that he managed to sleep on the flight and his nap definitely aided. Her apartment is unmistakably small, but it’s cozy with the hanging plants and the sunlight that she lets come even once the sun has settled and night has fallen thickly over the city. “Only one bed, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we can figure something out. I can take the couch.”

Calum, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple, steps through the threshold of her bedroom door, keeping her in toe. “You are not sleeping on your own couch. If anything, I would. But I’m comfortable sharing a bed if you are.”

She nods. “I’m okay with that.” 

And she is, but she can’t help her heart from fluttering when Calum returns from his shower, no shirt and just sleeping shorts. She peels back her covers, patting the empty space next to her. When he settles, albeit with a lump in his throat, he turns onto his stomach, clutching the pillows into his arms. “This is the point where we tell each other ghost stories,” he teases. He’s hoping his laughter doesn’t shake. He hopes she can’t detect how his body is shivering as the scent of her detergent and the mixture of hair products and lotions climbs into his nostrils. 

She slips down under her covers, the lights in the room clicking off as she finds the switch for the bedside lamp. “I don’t have many of those. Generally, I try not to mess with ghosts.”

“Understandable.”

Turning onto her side, she goes to reach out and hesitates. She can’t believe it. He’s really here, across the globe for her. “I’m pretty sure you might be a ghost right now.”

Calum shakes his head. “Nope, I’m very much real.” He reaches out and takes her hand. He noticed it, how she retreated. Their fingers glide over, before she threads her fingers. He tugs her hand close and kisses over each of her knuckles. “I’m very much real,” he whispers into her skin. 

Her morning routine starts earlier than usual, but only by a half an hour, as a phone goes off at 5:55 in the morning. “Fuck, sorry,” Calum straightens up, reaching across her to turn off his phone alarm. “I’m sorry.”

She laughs, wiping at the corner of her eyes. “It’s alright.” She hums as she stretches. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He falls back into the sheets, welcoming the warmth it brings. “It’s just--it’s a thing I do.” He’s trying to remember for a moment where he put his wallet. 

One hand on his chest, she kisses his cheek. “Whatever you need, just let me know.” 

“My pants,” he grumbles, wiping at his face. 

She nods, and slips out of bed, finding his pants laying across his duffle bag. “Incoming.” Calum sits up and catches his pants, patting the pocket, and there in the back pocket is his wallet. He fishes out the wallet and photo, his mother’s grin making him smile in return. She spies something small that he pulls out and the warm smile. She wonders what it is, but she doesn’t push it before walking out into the hallway. 

Their morning is quiet, Calum joining her to make a quick breakfast after taking her dog for a walk. The morning’s a bit breezy, though not overly so. Calum watches from the passenger side of the car as she rolls down the streets. “Sorry again about my alarm.”

She waves it off. “I’m an early riser anyway, Calum. Really, it’s fine.”

“It’s just a thing I do. I have this picture of my Mum and I. Makes my whole day better starting it out like that.”

Paused at a traffic light, she looks over with a soft smile. “That’s really sweet.”

“So, uh, what’s on your agenda today.”

“Laying vocals for one last song. And god knows, I’ll be laying them for hours.”

Calum remembers her previous rants about needing to get things exactly the way she sees them in her head out on tape. He’s excited to hear more music from her. The two singles are amazing, a bit more bluesy alternative than what he was creating, but the way her vocals reminded him of melting chocolate and she managed to teleport the listener, like sitting in a dark room with an old record playing in the background. It’s awe inspiring and a thing he always went back to when he felt like he was missing a home that he had never really been to. 

The studio is cozy. It’s really just her, the producer and a couple other people. It’s close and intimate. As Calum settles onto the couch outside the recording booth, he keeps to himself but is polite as he’s introduced. “I didn’t expect a partner in crime for today, but uh, this is the famous Calum I probably don’t shut up about.”

She admits it so freely and Calum can’t help but gape. He’s not sure his ears are working. “She really don’t shut up about you, mate,” the guy introduced as Paul laughs. She steps away and lower, Paul adds on, “I’m not attempting to be big brother here. But that girl’s basically a sister to me. And she hasn’t smiled nearly as hard in about a year than she smiles about you.”

Calum watches the door, waiting for her to be just around the corner. When she’s not there, he turns back around. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m a goner. But it’s, hard. The living situation right now.”

Paul nods, pulling his hair back into a bun. “I get it. I do. Shit’s not easy right now. But, I’m happy she’s happy. And I’m rooting for this. You seem decent. Literally flown across continents for her. That’s mad, but also, really genuine.”

Giggles signal of her arrival, that she’s just down the hallway but Calum chews over what Paul says, as he settles into the seat in front of the mixer and she slides into the booth. This thing went deeper that he realized. Through the speakers, everyone catches her vocal warmups, and Calum sneaks a cheeky video of her, making faces. “I see you, Calum!” She signals him out through the glass. They can only laugh before she returns to her work at hand. 

Halfway through the day, they take a break and as the group leaves to gather lunches, she waves for Calum to join her at the desk. He slips into the second rolling chair. “Hopefully it’s not too boring?”

“No, it’s really not. It’s amazing to see you work.” He can feel the emotion anytime she does a take and it’s always more and more each time she goes. He worried for a second she’d loose her voice but Paul’s always there to reel her in. 

“I wanna play you something.” He watches her click around and soon through the speakers, Calum hears the crooning guitar, wailing and setting the tone before her voice accompanies it. Her voice swells in his chest and he thinks for a second, he might be crying. But he can’t be. Not until she gently takes his chin, guiding him to look at her and her thumb comes up to wipe away gently at the corner of his eye. 

“God, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Maybe if you stopped singing like an angel, I wouldn’t.”

She laughs, fingers dragging down his cheek, across his moles. “Don’t know what I can do about that.” And her voice is still singing around them, she’s still wailing along with her guitar. Calum just listens, part of him wishing he was listening through headphones to catch every tsk of the drums and listening to the creaks and breathes. 

As the break comes around, her guitar crying out more and slightly out of the melody established, Calum bops along. His head dipping and shaking with the frets. “God, that sounds so dirty, but somehow so emotional at the same time,” he compliments. And as the tracks play on, he listens to each one, fingers picking out the keys and notes over the wooden desk. The guitar sounds like it was laid all at once, not much fuss what layers around it. Just like it was a moment that was just her and her guitar. He compliments each track, gives small suggestions here and there for production, but overall, he’s blown away by her craftsmanship and the way she’s been able to communicate with her team with what she wanted for each song. 

“I want to write like you someday,” Calum teases over his plate. “What’s the secret?” The last twinkling of the bass and piano play out around them. And Calum’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to pick his jaw up off the floor. 

“Being insane,” she returns with a soft laugh. “And having a really great team of course.”

“You’re the mastermind behind it all,” Paul addresses. “We’re just the minions. The pawns in her games of chess.”

She scoffs, working down the last scoop of soup. “Let’s be honest. I’d be lost without you.”

“Nah, you really wouldn’t, babes. You know what you want. I just happen to be able to translate it for you.”

Picking up a napkin from the table, Calum cleans away a little bit of soup that’s dribbled down her chin for her. “And a messy eater, clearly that’s needed in the recipe for creative genius too.”

“Fuck off,” she huffs throwing the plastic her spoon came in at his chest. 

The session ends soon and as they all climb out, taking hallways back to civilization, Calum slips his hand into hers. He pulls them to the side, letting the crowd continue on. “You’re really talented, you know?”

“Nah, I’m not that--”

“No, you really are,” he interjects. His fingers come up to her chin, dancing across her skin. “You really, really are.”

Her cheeks are hot. She’s not sure how to hide the smile, if it’s okay to smile and for the moment all she can focus on his him, and the way his exhales are soft and his lips are such a  pretty pink. “Thank you,” she breathes. 

Calum dips his head, inching and inching closer. “Is-is it okay?” His lips are so close to her and instead of verbally answering, she meets him. They’re lips graze properly and briefly. She pulls away, body flooding with embarrassment and before the words can vomit over her lips, Calum pulls in for another kiss. This one longer, lips actually tasting the other. She thinks she could kiss him forever. 

There’s a soft echo as their lips part. Her eyes are still closed, inhaling deeply to still her rapidly beating heart. “Yeah,” she says, then clears her throat. “It’s okay.”

Calum smirks at her answer, laughing as he kisses her again. This time without fear, without hesitation. Her fingers clutch around his shirt, he can feel her pulling at him like she can’t get close enough. But there is nothing, no inches, no centimeters, no millimeters between them hardly besides the cotton of their clothes. 

There’s desperation, all the I miss you’s and I really could use a hug from you right now’s and all the almost spoken signs of affection pour themselves out into the kiss. They’re not handsy, not dying to cave into hedonism. Just unsure of how to use words to express the concern, the love, the care for each other. Calum cradles her face, pulling back just a little for air. “I’ve wanted to do that for like, so long. And it’s a shame how giddy I feel doing that.”

“No, never a shame. Because like my guts feel like they’ve been folded over like pastry dough right now.”

Laughing into each other, they linger for just a moment longer in the hallway. They share breaths, trying to find the steady established rhythm that they innately have, but getting so lost in each other’s gaze. She’s never really noticed just how deep the brown goes in Calum’s irises until now. “I have lyrics brewing in my head right now and like, it’s embarrassing,” she confesses.

“No, never embarrassing.”

“You cannot use my own sentiments against me.”

“I think I just have.”

-H

[ducktracy]

177. dog daze (1937)

release date: september 18th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (police dog, spitz, russian wolf hounds), billy bletcher (st. bernard), berneice hansell (puppy)

around this time, friz freleng left warner bros. to reconnect with his former co-workers and friends, hugh harman and rudolf ising, over at MGM. he’d serve a relatively short stint as director there, coming back to WB as soon as april 1939. the backlog of friz cartoons would trickle out until early 1938, where he would then be replaced by ben hardaway and cal dalton. friz has seniority at the studio, going as far back as animating for the 1929 pilot bosko, the talk-ink kid. while this isn’t his last cartoon, it remains an intriguing talking point! he’d make his biggest splash upon his return, directing a number of great black and white porky cartoons and making other little-known characters such as yosemite sam and sylvester, to name a select few. let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, now: here, we’re treated to a number of spot-gags involving dogs—including a drunken st. bernard.

patrons stream into a theater advertising the local dog show. it’s not a ‘30′s cartoon without a celebrity caricature of some sort--a lumbering caricature of humorist/author irvin s. cobb moseys along down the street with his identical looking bulldog. he’s followed by william powell and his pooch asta, both featured relatively prominently in speaking of the weather just 2 shorts ago. and, furthering the connection to the aforementioned cartoon, we get another gag implying that the dog took a leak on a nearby pole: powell marches past a spare pole, when suddenly his leash is yanked from behind, leaving the audience to read between the lines.

another gag that is more reminiscent of the early days of animation: your stereotypical “fat lady” gag, underscored by a rather sardonic rendition of “oh, you beautiful doll”. the woman, in an attempt to fit into the seats, ends up shoving the entire row out of the way. not much to add here: fatphobia funny, right? (eyeroll)

cue the dog puns as we get a look at the line-up for the dog show. a bird dog (as in, dogs who hunt birds) is taken to its literal meaning, perched in a cage and whistling like a bird. the next pen over is an irish setter (sitter, get it?) perched on top of a nest. mama crawls out of the nest to reveal a line of eggs. one by one, they all hatch to reveal a trio of energetic, yappy puppies. points for surrealism. 

next up, a disembodied voice cries “RAIN BLOW THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN!”, curtains withdrawing to reveal a police dog donning a mountie uniform, howling (its howls, of course, provided by mel blanc). this is a reference to the ever popular renfrew of the mounted, a ‘30′s book and radio series about a singing mountie--frank tashlin’s porky in the north woods even served as an ode to it. after that features a spitz hound, chewing on a glob of tobacco and lobbing it at a spitoon. amusing at first, this gag quickly wears its welcome as its featured in a number of other cartoons. spitting gags themselves were more along the lines of the earlier ‘30′s cartoons, right at home in the cruder days of the early harman and ising films.

 a st. bernard booze hound is next to be revealed, drunkenly singing a wordless rendition of “how dry i am”. billy bletcher’s deep bellow is a perfect match for such a big dog: the dog, rather pluto-esque as we’ll come to recognize, will return throughout the picture. the animation of it is rather nice--the physics on the floppy jowls are great. after a fit of hiccups, the dog giggles bashfully.

so, to counteract that high of the dog, our next pooch?

oh, sweet hilarity!

time to make room for more puns, this time plastered on the curtain. the curtain advertises groaners such as “come see our itchings -- canine art galleries”, “are you in the dog house? get a new leash on life supply co.”, and so forth. the spotlight takes its sweet time to roam around each pun, allowing it to really sink in. complete with close-ups! i’m watching the newly restored version on hbomax (which looks gorgeous, by the way), and so i don’t know if it’s the fault of the restoration or if the original print had this issue, but the close-ups are a bit blurry, as if they were having some problems with the double-exposure effects. 

with eye-rolling puns out of the way (and i say this as a shameless pun lover), the audience is treated to a variety of k-9 vaudeville acts, starting with a pair of scottie dogs, who perform the highland fling. personally, i like the camel’s version better in porky in egypt. the spacing of the animation isn’t well distributed here--the movement feels too mechanical. 

the scotties are replaced by a pair of russian wolf hounds, who look like sticks when viewed from the front--a common place gag. animation of the hounds doing the hopak fares better than the scotties, and the barks at the end of the musical phrases are at least passably amusing. as the performance wraps up, the ushankas worn by the hounds turn out to be little black dogs curled up in a ball--once more, a tried and true gag that calls back to the days of the harman and ising era. 

just when we think we’ve had enough groaners: the next act, titled “dog eat dog” features a... wait for it! a dog eating a hotdog. at least the ironic commentary by the sarcastic, pitchy, violin rendition of “where oh where has my little dog gone” alerts us to some self-awareness regarding how lame the gag is. thankfully, the next gag at least got a polite chuckle out of me: the act titled “little man you’ve had a busy day” (in reference to the popular song of the same name) showcases a dog panting and flashing a guilty smile, a line of poles in the backgrounds. two piss jokes in one short! that must be a record! 

what could be considered the song portion of the short follows next, a group of prarie dogs singing “my little buckaroo” with alternate, dog-inclusive lyrics (mentioning pedigrees and the like). the drunken st. bernard from before cringes at the act, howling and carrying on. a hand off-screen shoves a muzzle on him to shut him up (don’t tell PETA!), prompting the dog to force it free. 

instead, the dog accidentally ricochets himself into an open trunk (labeled johnson skating act, a reference to background artist johnny johnson, most commonly associated with tex avery). and, as to be expected, the dog emerges from the trunk slipping and sliding on a pair of roller skates. the animation of the dog on the roller skates is certainly the high point of the short--even the dog’s emergence just slides like butter. definitely worthy of a frame-by-frame watch. 

the prarie dogs finish up the remainder of their song (once more bitten by the double-exposure bug, still wondering if that’s the restoration or the original print?), just in time to allow a shanghaied skating pup to slide across the stage. more great animation of the dog struggling on his skates as he slides into the other wing, his struggle animated on ones (you’ll also note the sign in the background advertising a gross of anvils). he eventually topples over, the barrel on his chest keeping him going until he crashes into a wall. the few smear frames leads me to believe that this is ken harris at work, though i’m far from confident on that claim.

even more great animation as the dog, pluto-esque in his struggle and frustration, struggles to get back onto his feet, his drunken hiccups sending him falling each time. i love when he resorts to grabbing his ass by his teeth to lift himself up, giving a self-satisfied grin at the camera before falling right back down again. frustrated, the dog grovels in his humility, a welcome burst of comedic timing as he shoves the lower half of his body down in frustration, free to mope and ponder in peace. 

next up serves as a rather deliberate callback to one of friz’s most monumental pictures (in notoriety, not quite in quality)--his 1935 entry i haven’t got a hat, that most famously marks the debut of everyone’s (okay, MY) favorite porcine. a shy little puppy timidly pokes her head out from a cardboard standee, clearly in no rush to get out on stage. ken harris’ animation of her resisting the push of the disembodied arm is full of character: her facial expression creased with worry is relatively scribner-esque, another bonus. 

finally, she’s thrown out on stage... facing the wrong way. a whistle summons her to turn around, where she recites “mary had a little lamb”, her squeaky vocals provided by none other than berneice hansell. she starts off... and, in an avery-esque break of character, growls to stage left “awww... this is SILLY!” a book is thrown at her in response. 

in the midst of the puppy’s recital (which is cleverly underscored by “puppchen”), the drunken dog from before still engages in his battle to get up. once more, the animation is more than a treat to look at: the dog, fueled with fury, scrambles to his feet with a running start. the animation glides as effortlessly as the dog, but something off-screen catches his attention: a trunk containing a flea circus.

as you can surely guess, dog crashes, and the fleas miraculously fly (suspension of disbelief!) out of the trunk, ready to cause trouble. in another ode to i haven’t got a hat, where porky was the one mixing up two poems in a recital, the reciting puppy mixes up her nursery rhymes (”mary had a little lamb, the mouse ran up the clock. and anywhere the lamb would go, hickory dickory dock!”) while watching a flea buzz dangerously close to her vicinity, eyes rotating 360 degrees and all.

inevitably, the flea strikes, and the puppy gives a strained remainder of her recital, itching all the way. the main ode to i haven’t got a hat stems here--the puppy’s voice grows exceedingly higher in pitch, the animation of her pacing from side-to-side and eventually off stage directly reused fom the short. it should be noted that, in the original scene, another hansell-voiced animal (little kitty) was giving the same recital of mary had a little lamb. this scene has the benefit of better animation and a little bit more humor, but it’s an interesting callback to such an important cartoon.

fade out and back in to the remainder of the fleas, who are having a hell of a time sopping up the spilled alcohol from the st. bernard’s barrel. one flea fishes in the liquor, another swimming, one more even licking it up straight from the source. the short comes to an end on a quartet of drunken fleas, singing a shrill, obnoxious, hiccup-ridden rendition of “how dry i am”. iris out.

i will admit that, as i reviewed this, the cartoon slowly warmed up to me. i wasn’t at all charmed by the first half: the puns are rather lame, the timing is bloated and slow, and it lacks direction, even for a spot-gag cartoon. it feels overwhelmingly half-hearted: when a director or its crew lacks enthusiasm, that absence is certainly felt. yet, the second half of the short definitely thawed my otherwise cold review. the animation of the st. bernard on roller skates is some absolutely gorgeous stuff. it’s very smooth, very funny, and very tactile. moreover, the puppy’s recital of “mary had a little lamb” was very fun and amusing--berneice hansell never fails to win me over with her vocals. with that said, however, i wouldn’t really recommend this cartoon: there are too many other good friz cartoons to check out. it lacks enthusiasm and conviction, and feels more like a relic of the past, from the prevalence of billy bletcher and berneice hansell (who dominated the pre-blanc cartoons) to the harman and ising-esque gags to the deliberate callbacks to i haven’t got a hat. mainly, i would persuade you to check out the second half for the animation of the roller-skating dog, and maybe add the recital sequence as an extra incentive. but, for now, this is a largely unremarkable cartoon that you can skip without feeling too slighted.

yet, with that said: the short is available on hbomax if you have it, where i got the screenshots from! if not, you can check out a lower-quality version here. better than nothing! 

[soundwavetape]

71. instincts

September 2, 2020 

71 days to go. 

“My instincts are limitless; my mind is limited and but an instrument.” 

So with 71 days to go, what’s on the docket for today. 

We gotta finish lyrics for Totenkopf. The story of Murdoch the Lokbot needs to end with Murdoch explaining the Bot’s past more. And then I think we should get some type of response from the Bot. Where he resists the path that he used to live. This idea has felt very real to me recently. Sometimes you have to walk away from the company you used to keep, the habits you used to cling to, and the ideas you used to chew on to move on. Let’s see if we can get the same thing across in a drill-reggae song that essentially plays out like a space opera. 

I also have to respond back to Chip-Fu. I found him on the song BOOM! by Shaq from the 90s. The song’s from ‘93 which is the same year that our world is set in (though we got an alternate one, all Alan Moore-style and shit). Chip-Fu’s vocals are insane. His energy is contagious and he’s doing all sorts of things with his vocals that are just so impressive. I reached out to him on LinkedIn and against all odds this guy wrote back to me. So I have to send a beat to him today. I’m thinking he might sound the best on the track, PARADISE VALLEY. It’s got a nice 90’s sample from Ozrosaurus’ “Markets of Despair”. His voice complement that vibe for sure, but not mimic it. Though I want him to bring that energy, I don’t want to treat him like a static artist. But who knows if I can even afford him so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But that’s what we have to work on today. Reaching back out to him. 

The last productive thing I think I can do is start laying demo vocals on tracks. By the end of the week, I should have them all laid. This way I can start building these project files and get to work doing the music in 9 days. During that period, I can start recruiting features, and artists to replace my vocals. 

Let’s get to it. 

…. 

Last night, Mr. West returned, sounding rather lucid in his interview with Nick Cannon, ranting on all things from abortion to being a billionaire. He touched upon breaking the model in all the ventures that he pursues. This is keeping with the DIY ethos at the heart of hip-hop and punk in general, I suppose. He’ll probably become President of the United States one day. It seems more and more inevitable, given the state of America, his ability to remain relevant and manipulate a media cycle, and his ability to produce great quality work. The thing about Trump is that Apprentice was just a kinda-okay TV show. I used to DVR it when Meat Loaf and Lil’ Jon were on, but it’s not something that would have survived given the options we have to choose from these days. That’s not even a completely theoretical argument because when they tried to bring the show back, no one wanted to watch it. The whole idea of Celebrity Apprentice suggests Trump’s star power wasn’t enough to keep the concept alive anyway. West produced brilliant work that made people actually feel something. He’ll be President. God help us all. 

At the same time, I really don’t think who’s President of the United States matters as much as we like to think. We’re in the middle of a pandemic where the realities of basic governmental breakdown are becoming more visible everyday. At the same time, I live in Los Angeles. Running a government for this many people, who are all so different, is no easy feat either. Ehhh. I’ll think about this some other day…. 

The one, and perhaps the only, good thing to come from a Kanye candidacy is great quotes. Last night he left us with this one: “My instincts are limitless; my mind is limited and but an instrument.” Sometimes you hear the right things at the right time. 

This is probably the longest time I’ve continuously worked on a creative project. It’s amazing that I decided to pick this one. The pandemic probably had something to do with it. As much as there is to chew on, this has been fun. It’s brought me back to the childlike energy I used to have when I started getting into movies for the first time. Four years juggling classes, internships, jobs, set, coverage, left me exhausted with film for awhile. This became a nice palette cleanser. In a way, I guess. It’s also something to do in the middle of a pandemic. Everyone is saying everyday is the same and life is just a blur. I’ve been able to keep myself busy. Even if it is for something silly like a musical project about alien robots. 

I think, like a lot of other creative people, we have a tendency to overthink the things that we make. I’m the worst at that. It’s not a completely bad quality. Good research is at the heart of anything. But at some point, you have to stop reading and write. And at some point, more information isn’t going to help you make anything better.

[lgcyunhyeong]

hey there!! this is my first time in lgc and i’m super excited to be here! i’ve been eyeing this place for a while and i’m glad i finally mustered up the nerve to join. this is cho yunhyeong, 21, works part time at his local gs25. he’s been a trainee for little over a year and is hoping to eventually debut in a band! he plays the bass and sings a little bit, and he also wants to get into songwriting and composition eventually. he’s generally kind of a weird kid--super spacey, often distracted, your local space nerd--but he’s a good egg in spite of that. compared to some of the other trainees, he’s pretty aimless and chill, but he does genuinely love music and performing, so...!

you can find some more info about him on his about and background pages but they’re kind of messy so i’ll drop some quick facts about yunhyeong under the cut, along with some connection/plot ideas to hopefully kickstart things! if you’d like to plot, please hit like on this post and i’ll hop into your ims! i also have a discord if you prefer to plot there - just ask me for my username ♡

quick facts:

born and brought up in seoul - very local, most comfortable in his neighbourhood, the most exciting vacation he ever took was to busan (and it was #lit). his parents own the best hot pot restaurant in seoul, and yeah he’s biased but that doesn’t mean it’s not true! 

has an older brother currently in law school and their relationship is best described as ‘i tolerate you’. they’re complete opposites - his brother is super driven and loud and outgoing while yunhyeong is not so they’ve never really clicked beyond the fact that they are siblings and therefore are obligated to love each other

was the quiet kid growing up, had a very chill and subdued personality. didn’t really speak unless spoken too, didn’t play much with others. most of the time he kept to himself and focused on his hyperfixations - first, it was dinosaurs, and then space! and he’s been stuck with space ever since

his mom put him in music lessons when he was younger in hopes that a relatable hobby might help him make friends?? also that it’d work as a conversation starter but it didn’t because yunhyeong remained as weird and solitary as ever! he did fall in love with music as a result though

in high school he decided to branch out and make friends by starting a band - new age sexy aliens or NASA for short. his recruitment process was like: whoever shows up to join is part of the band! it worked out for the best since he and the band members got really close

they started off playing covers but then branched out into their own original music (yunhyeong helped write some of their lyrics). most of their songs used heavy space imagery and they were really pretty but also low key about aliens

yunhyeong loves aliens

nasa had a pretty dedicated fanbase both online and in their school! did well, were thriving, living their best lives and playing hella gigs, and then their lead singer got scouted by an entertainment company. it was the beginning of the end for them; the rest of the members went their own ways as well and the band officially disbanded in 2018 rip

yunhyeong started to busk on/off since he wasn’t attending university and didn’t really know what the heck else he wanted to do with his life outside of the band, and that’s where he got scouted by legacy! joined the company because like... well... why would he not...

wants to debut in a band if he can... and focus on songwriting and music composition as a secondary career path. he isn’t like... super motivated though? has always had issues with setting goals and being ambitious... he’s more like, eh, i’m just gonna go where life takes me! 

personality wise, he’s still a pretty quiet kid unless you get him talking about one of his interests, in which case he will never shut up EVER. he gets distracted easily and will sometimes zone out when you’re talking to him but has a good memory of like, the most random shit you wouldn’t expect him to recall

easygoing as hell, rarely gets riled up over anything. on the flip side, he doesn’t really come across as sincere (even though he almost always is!) in his emotions because people are like... hm... just feels fake. tries to stay as positive as he can and doesn’t dwell on stuff that might upset him. sometimes people think he’s shallow! but he has #deepthoughts. he just doesn’t share them

unmotivated when it comes to most things! has no goals, no ambition, doesn’t care much for academia or being forced to like, conform to things. his mom calls him a free spirit but she’s probably just making excuses for him. it’s more like he’s stuck in some sort of limbo?? scared of growing up but scared of being left behind. it’s complicated

he’s really a sweet guy though. a little odd - he’s not the best at showing affection and sometimes he can be really... strange? offbeat? you never know what the fuck is going on in his head. but he’s a Human Being Just Like You (sadly) and simply trying his best to live every day

connection/plot ideas:

he didn’t really have many friends growing up, but still - childhood friends! maybe you were the exception. maybe you didn’t mind that he was awkward and quiet and a little weird! maybe you tripped and fell on the playground and he gave you a star-patterned purple band aid and you decided you would die for him. who knows! 

friends in general who understand him and look @ him with fond exasperation... must be able to tolerate his antics. liking aliens is a bonus. jk, but he’s a sweet guy who loves his friends! please be kind to him

fans of his former band, nasa (or antis?). he was the bassist and a sub vocal and didn’t stand out too much compared to some of the other guys, but he always did the intros and he’ll happily talk about nasa all day! discuss the symbolism of their songs with him

exes? i genuinely cannot think of a single reason why anyone would want to date him but i feel like he’s had at least (1) relationship before... maybe you took a chance and after you started dating you were like, god, i’m running away

crushes, whether one-sided on his part or your part or reciprocated but you don’t know it yet?? he’s holding out for his alien bae but maybe you don’t know that and just think he’s like, this quiet mysterious pretty boy. maybe he thinks you’re cool for a human! 

fellow trainees who can play instruments... yunhyeong needs someone to #jam with because playing the bass alone is kind of lonely (and since he’d like to eventually get on the band track, making some connections would be cool) 

fellow trainees in general, especially ones in his training group!! he’s not as hungry for debut or as ambitious as some which means he’s a) non-threatening and b) chill to hang with. you could be into that or it could absolutely infuriate you since he doesn’t seem to be taking things seriously! maybe you think he doesn’t deserve to be here

met online on an alien enthusiast forum and you talk almost every single day about various theories and moves and all that kind of stuff but you’ve never met irl! and yunhyeong really wants to meet you in person! 

idk bully him 

you’re buying a bunch of weird shit from the convenience store where yunhyeong works at like 2 am and he has so many questions and won’t let you pay and leave until you answer them

alternatively, you find him sleeping on the job and you want to wake him up but the moment you touch his arm, he makes this high pitched screeching noise and you fall over and take an entire shelf of candy down with you

you invite yunhyeong out for drinks but he took one sip of soju and he’s a mess... you didn’t sign up to take care of a giant drunken baby but guess what! you will be! if he tries to kiss you, dodge him

you always bum free meals from yunhyeong’s parents’ restaurant because his parents think you’re his best friend. tbh you actually don’t really like him but he doesn’t realize it so he never bothers correcting his parents either!

you didn’t realize yunhyeong was allergic to cats and dogs and you brought your cat/dog near him and oh my god he is having the UGLIEST allergic reaction

yunhyeong can’t swim. you push him into a pool as a joke. chaos ensues

you play various video games together and yunhyeong is really good but he’s more interested in stardew valley than in league of legends and you keep pestering him to play with you dammit i need you on my team

you slipped a love letter under his door for one of his roommates but yunhyeong thought it was for him and now he keeps (kindly) rejecting you whenever you see him and you don’t even know how to react

Oh No We Are Trapped In This Room And The Power Went Out And I Am Scared Of The Dark Please Hold My Hand For Science

yunhyeong loves smoothies and one day you catch him trying to blend a slice of pepperoni pizza into a smoothie because he is, and i quote, “tired of chewing”

IDK ALL THESE IDEAS ARE BAD BUT PLEASE PLOT WITH ME ANYWAY

[dustedmagazine]

Listening Post: African Head Charge

African Head Charge conjured a potent variety of psychedelic dub, which blended the boom and echo of classic reggae production with intricate West African polyrhythms and sampled vocals from nearly every religion on earth. The band got started at the beginning of the 1980s as a partnership between producer Adrian Sherwood and the Jamaican percussionist Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah, but the five albums we are considering come from later on. Three are from the early 1990s and two after a decade-long hiatus that ended in the mid-aughts. 

We come to this material through a reissued five CD (or five vinyl album) box set from On-U Sound, which collects four studio albums—the classic, career highpoint Songs of Praise (1990), the follow-up In Pursuit of Shashamane Land, a collection of alternate mixes, dubs and rarities from 1990 to 1993, Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi and two later albums, 2005’s Vision of a Psychedelic Africa and Voodoo of the Godsent. 

Jennifer Kelly: I am personally pretty gobsmacked by the first two albums, and the way they bring in hallucinatory chants from various regions of Africa and other places into the groove. For instance, I’m listening to “Cattle Herders Chant” from Songs of Praise right now, and it’s sort of magic how it brings together absolutely primitive, traditional singing into this technologically-enhanced dance beat. I mean, it’s very disco, very sensual, but also really spiritual. To me it gets to the links between religious transcendence and the kind of experiences you can have with music.  

What are you guys hearing and liking in this set?

Jonathan Shaw: I know so little about dub and reggae, but I really love this music. When I hear dub that I groove with, I think of William Gibson's Neuromancer, the Zionites and the constant throb of dub. Strange stuff to find in a science fiction novel about artificial intelligences — but that's the trick with dub. It's a blending of deeply spiritual sounds with the technological powers of the machine. The mixing board gets possessed by ghosts. Like on "Learned" from Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi: there's a machine-like precision to the looped drum tracks that threatens to render the rhythms overly artificial, but when the voices cut in, there's a hair-raising weirdness that can only happen in the flesh, through the flesh.  

Tim Clarke: Feels a little absurd to have never heard African Head Charge in the 25 or so years since I first noticed their name mentioned in issues of NME and Melody Maker that I used to read religiously during school break times. Dub reggae has never been my bag, which makes this collection a pleasant surprise. I approached the albums in an upside-down fashion, arbitrarily beginning with the outtakes collection, Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi, simply by virtue of it being first alphabetically. As Jonathan mentioned, the juxtaposition between the loose religious chanting and the machine-like rhythmic loops is strikingly odd. I'm leaning towards favoring the rougher, dubbier cuts over the more easily digestible tracks. Either way, this is an unexpectedly toothsome feast — and one I'm still chewing my way through.

William Meyer: Sorry to be so long responding to this, but my, there’s a lot of African Head Charge to take in. I bought Songs of Praise at the time it came out and had a mixed response. While I never sold it, I never bought another record by the band. Listening to the record now, my opinion isn’t that different. I like the sound of the vocalist’s voice, and find the chanted delivery easy on the ears, but it doesn’t lure me in to actually listen to what he has to say. The big, bold 1990s drum programs didn’t sound good to me at the time, and they don’t sound good now. The hand drumming is much more engaging, and my interest corresponds to the extent that its patterns cover up the boom-thwack grooves.

I’ve gone through the subsequent albums in alphabetical rather than chronological fashion, and found that the cleaner the production, the more fusion-esque the bass solos, and the more sparkly the guitars sound, the less interested I am. The denser the layering of percussion and chants, the murkier the samples, and the more aggressive the dub effects are applied, the more I like it. So, I think that Visions of a Psychedelic Africa is great.

Jonathan Shaw: Agreed that Visions... is the real find among these records--at least in my listening. I'm largely in accord with Bill's analysis of the sounds, but the sparkly guitars in "Surfari" are interesting to me. I hear in them a sort of a "fuck you" to the Beach Boys and their surfin' safaris, which replicate the colonial ventures of 19th-century white dudes in pith helmets. Rock and roll is a lot of things, and its pronounced tendency to leech vitality from black culture is one of the less attractive of those things. So it's fun to hear surf guitar runs subsumed into AHC's dubby weirdness.

"Unplanned" from that record is just terrific. A bit more spare, a bit more spaced out, lots of hand-drum sounds. Lots of semi-creepy weirdness.  

Andrew Forell: I discovered Dub kinda accidentally after Mark Stewart left The Pop Group and started recording with Adrian Sherwood on On-U. African Head Charge’s first record My Life is a Hole in the Ground remains a favorite. Of these rereleases Songs of Praise is the only one I’d previously heard and i agree with Jen that it’s a remarkable combination of the sacred and profane. But I have to say that the two latter albums Visions of a Psychadelic Africa & Voodoo of the Godsent are the records that have really excited me on first, and subsequent listens. I get what Bill’s saying about the 1990s drum programs, sparkly guitars and fusion bass solos and agree there are times when they become a distraction but when it works on Visions and Voodoo i find it pretty irresistible. I’ve always found Sherwood to be a producer sympathetic to the source material no matter how much he’s deconstructing, reconstructing and generally mucking it around and i think the application of dub techniques to African polyrhythms a nice closing of the circle between reggae’s roots and Sherwood’s continuation (some might say appropriation) of Jamaican innovators like Lee “Scratch’ Perry and King Tubby. Adding space and bottom end to hand drums and chants makes, at least for me, compelling listen.  

Ben Donnelly: Dub is inherently about the character of the production, isn't it? Along with psychedelia, it's the first manifestation of the studio as a pop instrument. And uniquely, it's the first form where existing recordings are the main source of sound. So, if the sheen or the haze of one of these records isn't working, there's not much further one can be expected to delve.

I first encountered African Head Charge in the rotation bin of my college radio station, midnight shift in 1987. I'm not sure which LP I was slapping on the turntable, but a combo of giddy fatigue and typography fixed the band's name in my mind as African Head *Change*. In the context of the era that misconstrued name fit with the tribal industrial stuff that was also in rotation, like Dissidenten, Test Department, Flux and so on, with more than a few of them also Adrian Sherwood productions.  

To contemporary ears, Songs of Praise is coming from a place that's passe. The digital sharpness of the sampling and percussion, and the travelogue of the sources no doubt inspired to the sort of world-music-trance-techno that you'd find on a compact disc in the checkout line at a food coop in the mid-90s, with that "global village coffeehouse" artwork.  

So, I start cringing when the chanting children launch "Hymn," yet the rhythm track is still off kilter enough to delight me. And this keeps happening to me as I approach this album in 2020 - those Afropop leads that became corny signifiers used to sell Fruitopia break free of their 90s appropriations, and I can hear them as the more thoughtful juxtapositions they originally were.  

The more recent albums, *Visions* and *Voodoo* have a cloudier surface, more like something that came from Lee Perry's Black Ark studio. While that Upsetter sound is now the standard we use to measure dub, *Songs of Praise* was created in a time when the terms "dub" and "version" were thrown around much more freely, e.g. U2's "Celtic Dub Remix." 

The latter records also arrived out in a time when their influence was fully felt, as Hyperdub and Hotflush were defining dubstep and UK bass. I'm struck at how the basic AFC formula of hand drums and queasy vocal samples defines the boundaries Shackleton has spent his career richly exploring.  

Bill Meyer: Michael Veal wrote a swell book that takes on the question of what dub is, and what it was. It started out as a way to skimp on money, reusing the backing track for the b-side instead of coming up with new b-side, and went from there. Sheen came into the game when digital means of recording replaced analogue in Jamaica, and when the dub influence started to spread around the world. Adrian Sherwood has made a life’s work of inserting dub consciousness and methods into places where it previously was not present. But the influence went both ways, and the mainstream drum sounds and late 20th century treble overload has a lot to do with me rating the 1990s Headcharge lower than Vision of a Psychedelic Africa.

Sometimes the slickness works as contrast, though. Ex: the clash between cocktail piano and the pitched-down command to “smoke up your collyweed” on “Take Heed…And Smoke Up Your Collyweed” is pretty cool.  

Ben Donnelly: It's very appealing how many of these tracks can be simultaneously ridiculous and ominous. The track later on Voodoo of the Godsent built around the sample of the newscaster voice repeating "Undulating to atonal music while experiencing way out trances" made me think it must be a 1990s track, as that sort of campy sample went out of fashion at the end of the century. That it is from 2011 is charming. These records are definitely burnished by removing them from the flow of decades and treating them as their own backwater.  

Bill Meyer: Yeah, the coexistence of ridiculousness and dark portent may actually give this stuff life outside of its time. Sometimes I hear African Head Charge and wonder what an Adrian Sherwood-Prince Far I match-up would have sounded like. But instead of Prince Far I, who sounded like the only thing he read was the Old Testament, I imagine these guys kick back and watch a bit of cable TV in between takes. It’s more a part of the world than Prince Far I sounded like he was, even though at the same time it imagines an alternate, psychedelic African universe.   

Ian Mathers: As someone who's a big fan of dub in general, from Lee "Scratch" Perry's first attempts to replicate the sound of dropping a pebble down an old dry, metal well as a kid (or is that story apocryphal?) to, well, Adrian Sherwood's noble crusade to apply dub techniques wherever they even sort of fit, it's kind of surprising (I still stand by his Echo Dek dub of Primal Scream's Vanishing Point record, especially the "Stuka" dubs), it's kind of surprising I hadn't gotten around to searching out African Head Charge material yet; honestly, if I'd known it was less of a solo outing for Sherwood and had heard anything about Bonjo I (a really compelling performer, on the basis of these records), I might have sped up the process a little. But in any case, I was thrilled to have the excuse when we decided to tackle these reissues, and I'm glad I did — at worst for me these are totally pleasant, and at best genuinely revelatory.  

I do agree at least to some extent on the general take here on Songs of Praise and the other material from around then; not all of it has dated super well, although the slightly more out there versions found on Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi are among my favorite tracks here. It's interesting to see how their influence has made it through to some unexpected places; when I hit play on "Peace and Happiness" from that compilation, I might have believed me if you'd told me this was a TV on the Radio deep cut. Even with Songs of Praise, at least this version with the bonus tracks, has some unexpected range; finding something as solidly dubby as "Full Charge" a track down from the more traditionally arranged "Deer Spirit Song" is an interesting contrast.   

But I do also agree that Vision of a Psychedelic Africa is a more potent example of African Head Charge's whole thing, especially when they start doing that thing where they sequence songs and their dubs right next to each other ("Run Come See"/"Ran Come Saw", "Blessed Works"/"Work Blessed", and so on). What particularly intrigued me when I started looking into the band was the whole notion of "psychedelic" dub (even though I know my tastes in psychedelia are narrower than my tastes in dub) and a lot of this record and Voodoo of the Godsent pretty much nails what I was hoping for when I saw that genre tag. It's not that the earlier records are necessarily bad, just that something like In Pursuit of Shashamane Land's "No, Don't Follow Fashion" or "Pursuit" feels more like just dub (or maybe some sort of dub fusion thing). I'll still need to give these more listens to decide exactly how much I feel the need to keep around, but things are looking for the new records and Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi at least.  

Jonathan Shaw: I'm not conversant with the band's evolution, so it's tough to track the changing currents and differing emphases when there's so much music to take in, and so much I'm hearing for the first time. But I think it's so good, so pleasurable and powerful. I really dig the big vocal gestures at the beginning of Songs of Praise. "Free Chant" sounds like a drum circle in the middle of a tent revival meeting. That devotional vibe gets amplified by the opening seconds of "Orderliness, Godliness, Discipline, and Dignity," though the flavor of those voices singing "He that followeth me..." scans a whole lot whiter to my ears. So, when the dubby stuff and the toasting abruptly cut in, the shift has an effect that's both jarring and comic. The rest of "Orderliness..." is just terrific: the squalling, rasping guitar noise, the zooming and glistening noises.  

Andrew Forell: Totally agree on the Echo Dek/Vanishing Point comparison (and as a sidebar - what Andrew Weatherall - RIP - did with Screamadelica for Primal Scream as another example as studio as instrument) as an example of both the dub production template and what Sherwood’s vision can bring to source material. I really like AHC’s music but the excitement for me is listening to what the collaborative process produces. Oddly, I was never really into reggae, but dub made a lot of sense to me. The emphasis on the bass and the space and particularly the fracturing of the original track was like listening to Charlie Parker or Coltrane break down a popular song, play with the melody, interpolate quotations from other songs, do something completely new and then bring it all back to the source, which took me a while to ‘get’ when I started really listening outside the punk/postpunk etc. guitar based realm, but which thrilled me just as much as when I first heard bands like The Pop Group & The Birthday Party who seemed to be deconstructing the classic rock I grew with on the AM radio.   

Ian Mathers:

Absolutely agree about favoring dub over reggae, I think mostly because of those studio-as-instrument reasons you give. When I do find a reggae record I like, I really  like it (I'm far from alone in saying this, but The Congos' Heart of the Congos  is one of the most transcendent records ever made), whereas any basically well-done dub I'm happy to throw on and listen to. To divert just a bit further before bringing it back to these albums specifically, I personally also found dub very comfortable when I first actually heard it because the use and style of bass specifically was familiar; I grew up listening to, among other things, an Ontarion indie band called King Cobb Steelie, whose  Junior Relaxer  was kind of a hybrid between lots of the echo-y guitar stuff I already loved and more dub-informed percussion and bass. I wouldn't say any of the tracks were full on dubs, but I still find a track like "Rational"  astonishing, and for me personally definitely a gateway.

I don't just mention that because Junior Relaxer is still a favorite of mine and I tell people about it whenever I can, though; to me it's another sign as these African Head Charge albums are of the near-infinite mutability and capability of dub. I wouldn't diminish it by saying it's just a production technique, it's more a particular mindset or way of approaching the elements of a track, which may be why I remember seeing the descriptor "dubwise" appended to lots of stuff that didn't strictly fit the criterion. Sherwood has always had a very dubwise sensibility, whether it's expressed here in as... classical(?) a sense as in Churchical Chant of the Iyabinghi's "Dervish Dub" or as radiantly offbeat as Vision of a Psychedelic Africa's "Dobbyn Joins the Head Charge" (both of which have been favorites for me as I keep listening to these). 

Shrunken Head by African Head Charge

Ben Donnelly: I generally don't get much from ambient styles of music, but dub works for me as both wallpaper and object d'art. That can make it a challenge to write about. I really appreciate Lee Scratch Perry's recent life-summary work with Sherwood, but I'm surprisingly tolerant of his work a decade ago with passable Euro-dub players, or his bizarre live-date configuration backed by American stoners. I'm almost suspicious of my own judgement as I ease into the haze of dub this satisfying.

This also makes it difficult to compare to other forms with Jamaican origins. Dub's development has happened independent of the subsequent flow of reggae. Contemporary roots reggae is as irritating as underwear made of hemp burlap. Dancehall is frequently genius and even more frequently tossed off filler. Folding dub back towards contemporary Jamaican music is an effort mostly made by outsiders - The Bug and Santigold with notable successes. And there's the increasingly strange legacy of dubstep as something with more DNA from to Nine Inch Nails than King Tubby.  

If I was going to narrow down AHC to one idea, it would be “Dervish Chant/Dervish Dub.” The found vocals syncopate almost telepathically with the big beat, and the conga drum rhythm line sounds human and electronic at the same time. The components are alien to 1970s reggae, yet the whole feels like a direct descendant.  

Mason Jones: Totally a side note, but I was so surprised to see King Cobb Steelie mentioned that I had to reply. Back when SubArachnoid Space was touring, we did a pass through Canada and played a couple of shows with those guys, right after Junior Relaxer came out. They were super-nice, incredibly stoned people, and I really enjoyed their shows. Playing that stuff live, complete with a Space Echo, was even better than the albums. They got the dub-rock-experimentation thing down really well.  

Bill Meyer: While the making of dub is studio-dependent, it was originally presented as public, social music. Aside from buying singles (which a lot of Jamaican music fans could not afford), people heard the music at drinking establishments that used sound systems to lure people in. They heard it played at enormous volume, so that it was felt as well as heard. Sound systems used exclusive material, including dubs, to bring people in. I'm not sure that it was considered to be separate from reggae; it was one of part the music.  

Ben Donnelly: Yeah, that's my understanding- in a way dub becomes its own genre as it becomes a separate pursuit in the UK. Once you get to the Sleng Teng riddim in the 1980s, anything without an electronic beat isn't danceable enough for the sound systems in the homeland, parallel to how house and techno displaced funk drumming in the same era. 

It is already half a decade old, but my favorite contemporary Jamaican take on dub I've heard is Aidonia's "Ganja Farmer", and the dub takes were mostly done overseas, as best as I can tell.

Big stars like Popcaan seem to start dabbling in dub once their reach is international, but not as they're competing for attention.   

That's part of what's interesting at looking at these African Head Charge records in retrospect. The form isn't there to slap you around — it risks dissipating in a cloud of smoke well-worn tropes. I don't know that I'd have picked Visions of a Psychedelic Africa out of a promo list when it was first released. It may well have come through Dusted channels without anyone thinking it was worth seizing upon.  

Ian Mathers: Mason, I'm super glad someone else can report that King Cobb Steelie were great - I didn't get to see them until they were playing shows for the album after Junior Relaxer (they were my first interview for the university newspaper, and super nice guys, as well as incredible live) but my experience was very much the same. They did a reunion show a little while back, don't think it came to any new music but that Space Echo was still going strong.  

The sound system thing is so fascinating to me, especially knowing it was novelty that was often a draw, and especially knowing that as a result the systems were often eager to get their hands on dubplates of pretty much anything that seemed like it'd be hot with the crowd — if my memory of the reading I've done is correct, that's where dub got its name, although given that what we now think of dub was far from the only type of production found on those dubplates that were being sneaked and smuggled around, I'm not sure why it stuck that way.  

As someone who tends to keep playing the same dub albums rather than keeping up with what the sound is (or isn't, I guess?) doing, I really appreciate some of the more recent context (that Aidonia is great), as well as the reminder that although the roots of the form were definitely Jamaican, a decent amount of the codification/plaudits/etc. come from overseas. It makes me wonder at what cross-pollination does occur — there's ambient dub techno, of course, a form I love but will happily admit is an acquired taste for many, but I also to what extent, say DJ Screw was thinking about dub when he started making Chopped & Screwed versions of songs. Different audiences (on different perception-altering substances, possibly), but it feels like there's a kinship there. 

Jonathan Shaw: Thanks for the context, Bill. I've certainly been playing AHC really, really loud.  

Ben's notion of the Dervish resonates. I've been listening to some noise projects (Herukrat, Koufar) that invoke Islamic devotional music and call-to-prayer as potent figures of resistance to Western modernity. It's spiritual music, and it's interested in summoning very heavy presences; not didactically political, but vibrating with an intensity that has a political register. I don't know a heck of a lot about Rastafarianism, but it seems a sort of liberation theology. I've responded to the AHC music that's most in tune with those impulses. "Healing Ceremony" on Songs of Praise feels that way to me: the blossoms of synth sound want to brighten the track, but the distended, fucked-up tone of the guitar solo renders that problematic. And those voices, wailing and electro-fried. The song may heal, but the wounds feel pretty livid.  

[lantern-inthenight]

Playing the Vocals (series)

Chapter Two: Fight the Fire

Pairing: Josh x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2680

Warnings: Brief language

A/N: Chapter Two is here! I hope you all enjoy as we see a bit more interaction between Reader and Josh :)

Summary: Josh and Reader are competing vocalists at a music college. They are each trying to win a competition as soloists, but their advisor tells them they can only win as a duo. They begrudgingly become partners, but find that they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

“Can you believe this shit?”

Emily could only laugh in response to your outburst. She was standing next to you in line at the coffee shop on campus. You had left the piano room as quickly as possible after Mrs. Michaels, to avoid being alone with Josh.

You were so worked up about the events of the meeting that you almost forgot your plans to meet Emily. When you pushed through the door of the coffee place, she was waiting for you with questions written all over her face. So you took up your place next to her in the long line of customers, and filled her in on everything that happened.

“Can you believe this shit? She’s such a troll,” you finished indignantly. Emily laughed, shaking her head.

“Honestly, dude, I gotta agree with Michaels on this one,” she told you, shuffling forward a little in the line. You shuffled along with her, frowning at the floor.

“Why on earth--”

“Because you don’t sing well with others,” Emily replied matter-of-factly. Before you could be offended, she held up a finger to stop your protest.

“And,” she continued, looking at you pointedly, “you need to learn with someone who won’t be afraid of you.”

“Seriously? I can totally play well with others! What about the time...uh…” You trailed off, trying your best to come up with a single event where you sang with someone else without conflict. Emily just watched you with eyebrows raised, as you proved her point.

“Face it, dude. I love you, but you’re not exactly a team player,” Emily said, as the two of you shuffled forward a bit more in line.

“And I think it would be really nice for you, as a musician, to learn to work with someone who’s just as stubborn as you.”

You looked at her, mouth agape. Emily shrugged, and patted your shoulder. And although you pouted for a bit, you couldn’t ignore the fact that she was kind of right.

Or, you know. Very right. Whatever.

“Fine,” you huffed out, folding your arms. Emily chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“God, you lead singers are always so dramatic. You and Josh might be more similar than you think.”

You scoffed, but it was your turn at the register. You ordered your tea, and Emily her coffee, and the two of you sat near the windows. The sun was setting over campus, casting shadows across the trees, alternated with bursts of golden light.

“What I meant was, have you thought about actually trying to get along with him? I’ve seen him at shows, he’s a pretty good singer. You two would probably sound really great together.”

You exhaled slowly, not wanting to even think about that possibility. True, Josh was known for a certain style, and you were known for a different style, but that didn’t mean your voices would go well together. Did it?

“And then there’s the other question,” Emily added, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. You frowned, blowing on your tea to cool it down.

“Which is…?”

“How long are you two gonna last before hooking up?”

You burst out laughing at that, unable to stop the guffaws coming out of you. Emily just watched you with a placid expression, and waited for you to pipe down.

“You’re laughing now, but just watch. You’re gonna realize how similar you are to him, and he’ll do the same. Then...boom.”

“I seriously, completely, wholeheartedly doubt that,” you said, clapping your hands in front of you for emphasis. Emily didn’t look convinced.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Seriously. He’s arrogant, loud, stubborn, and just--just generally obnoxious!” Your hands continued to move even after you were done talking, in an effort to make your point even though you couldn’t really find the words.

“It’s funny you say that,” Emily replied, stirring her coffee. You tilted your head.

“Why?”

“Because that’s exactly what I thought when I first met you.”

You frowned at her, ready to defend yourself. But there was no hostility behind your friend’s eyes. She continued, smiling a little to herself.

“And then I got to know you. And realized that you’re actually a lot of fun. Smart, funny, compassionate. Hell of a singer,” she added, nodding to you.

“So I just think you and Josh will get along better than you think. Just because he rubs you the wrong way now, doesn’t mean you won’t sound good together. Okay?”

Emily gave you the Look. You huffed out a sigh, then relented.

“Okay,” you said, with a hint of exasperation. Emily batted her eyelashes at you, smiling sweetly.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, chuckling. Emily grinned.

“Good. Because it would actually be pretty awesome if you won this grant.”

“It would,” you agreed. Deep down, you knew Emily had a point. But there was just something about the guy that rubbed you the wrong way. What it was exactly, you couldn’t decipher. You would just have to find out.

…

You sighed and pushed against the door. The sounds of the thunderstorm outside disappeared as you entered the room, where Miss Michaels was warming up on the piano. The ascending and descending notes filled the room with warm, rich sound. It calmed you for a second, made you smile.

Until you heard the door open behind you.

You had to bite your tongue to keep from groaning out loud as Josh’s footsteps neared. Once he was standing next to you in front of the piano, Miss Michaels concluded her exercise and squinted at the two of you.

“Hello again, you two. I’m glad you’re here today,” she began, looking pleasantly surprised that either of you had even showed up. You gave a half-hearted smile, fidgeting with the zipper on your bag. Miss Michaels looked from you to Josh, as if waiting for something. When both of you simply gave her confused looks, she raised her eyebrows.

“Well, aren’t you going to greet one another?”

You shifted uncomfortably and turned to look at Josh. He turned to face you as well, with a look that made it clear he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hi,” you said, with little emotion. Josh gave you a smirk, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” he replied.

How fucking dare he, you thought. Smirking at me like that? Who does he think he is?

You wanted to slap the look right off his stupid face, but Michaels spoke up again.

“Wow. I love the enthusiasm.”

You just glared at your new partner while he smirked at the ceiling. Michaels leaned down and pulled a thin booklet of sheet music from her bag. She held it out, jerking her wrist at Josh. He got the hint and walked over to grab it.

“I figured we’d start on something easy, while you two get more comfortable with each other,” she noted, earning a scoff from you. Your eyes widened at your own noise, and Michaels just glared at you over her glasses.

“Because every duo has to start somewhere, Miss YLN,” she said pointedly, causing Josh to smirk again. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you mentally kicked yourself for not keeping a better poker face.

“Oh, and I only have two copies of this song. So you’ll just have to share.” Michaels’ voice was hard, but you could have sworn you saw her smile behind the piano. You turned back to Josh and leaned in to see the music in his hands.

“Neon Trees?” You asked, frowning. Your voice came out as an incredulous laugh. Josh flipped open to the first page, looking as horrified as you felt.

“This is a pop song,” he complained. And for once, you were inclined to agree with him. But Michaels just looked between you without sympathy.

“Yes,” she answered, as you and Josh exchanged confused glances. She was good at making you do that.

“You see, I know you two don’t particularly enjoy each other. But in my observation, the only thing you hate more than each other is the pop genre.”

What could you say? She was right. And it appeared that even Josh knew a good point when he heard one, because he offered no further argument. You swayed your head in consideration before conceding her point with a small nod.

“Right, then,” Michaels continued with a triumphant smile. “Pay attention. YN, I want you to take Verses 1 and 4, as well as the harmonies. Joshua, you’ll take Verses 2 and 3, along with the melodies and the first half of the refrain. I’ve highlighted your parts in different colors, see?”

You both nodded in unison, eyes flitting over the sheet music. Josh’s parts were highlighted in yellow, yours in green. In the yellow cast of the overhead lights, you could hardly tell the difference between the colors.

“Just this once, I won’t be playing your accompaniment. I’ll have it playing over the speakers so that I can offer critiques on your performances. But first, I want to make sure you’re both clear on the harmonies and melodies.”

So Miss Michaels sat at the piano, hashing out perfect patterns for Josh first, then you. You each traded off the music book as your turns went. This offered you the chance to watch Josh sing. An excuse to listen to his voice and observe him while he unleashed it.

The sounds he produced were unique, you had to admit. His voice was ringing, cutting through the sound of the piano like a hot knife through butter. There was a raspy quality to it, but it was clear and rich nonetheless.

You found yourself nodding as he sang, silently admitting to yourself that he was pretty talented. You know, for an obnoxious douche.

When it came your turn to sing, Josh turned and handed the music to you. You took it with a nod, and moved to stand next to Miss Michaels. She played out your harmonies, which you echoed back in turn. You stuck to the notes pretty closely, making note of possible fioritures to add later.

At one point during your run, you happened to glance over at Josh. You were surprised to find that he was nodding along, his eyebrows raised. You started to wonder if you needed glasses; he almost looked impressed.

When Michaels had run through everything with the two of you, she made sure there were no questions before flipping on the speaker system and starting the song.

Josh, ever the performer, walked up to you with an unbearable swagger as the beat set in. The first verse started only two measures in, so you lifted your chin and sang it right in his face.

Here we go again I kinda wanna be more than friends So take it easy on me I'm afraid you're never satisfied

It may have been a pop song, but it was a pop song with a good beat. You couldn’t help but move with the tempo of the song. Josh did something similar, moving his shoulders side to side. He didn’t miss a beat as you handed the song off to him, taking over effortlessly.

The transition from your voice to his was nearly seamless, even if you thought everything about it was unnatural. Miss Michaels seemed to agree, nodding to herself as Josh rolled through the second verse. And as he burst into the chorus, you joined him.

Your voices, which you had previously thought of as oil and vinegar, blended like honey and milk. You took the harmonies by the horns, gliding between notes with little effort. Josh wrangled with the melody, taking it wherever he wanted it to go. All in all, it was apparent that you and Josh had something new in common:

You could both make any song your own.

To round out the end of the fourth verse, Josh took over the melody while you jumped up to the highest harmony of the number. It was the most powerful part of the song, despite not being a chorus, because of the sweeping melody and airtight harmony. The two parts fit together snugly like pieces of a puzzle, bringing a complete and beautiful song to the surface.

And I won't be denied by you The animal inside of you

By the time you sang it, you and Josh were face to face, grinning at each other. Because it was so evident how good you sounded together, that you felt almost victorious. Josh’s smile was brilliant as he adjusted his volume on certain notes to let you take the lead, before increasing his volume to take it back.

By the end of the song, your shared book of music lay abandoned on the piano top. You and Josh had both picked up the song quickly, and already began to add baubles and ornaments to it to personalize it that much more.

As you brought the song to a softer close, you took a moment to really look at Josh. Now that you thought about it, that might have been the first time you saw him smile. What a pretty smile it was, too.

…

Miss Michaels had you run through the song several more times before calling it a day. As you all gathered your things, you looked over at Josh. He was skimming the pages one more time before leaving, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lingering the stare on his hands.

Oh, for fucks sake, YN. Get it together.

You checked your phone for the time before shoving it into your bag. When you had stood back up with your backpack, Josh was handing you the book.

“Here,” he said with a small smile. “If you wanted to read over it.”

“Thanks,” you answered genuinely. “Good job today, by the way. You… sounded good.”

Josh nodded, grinning at you.

“Thanks. You did, too.”

You both stood there, waiting for further instruction from your coach. Miss Michaels stood up, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder.

“Excellent work, you two. Oh,” she stopped, digging through her bag. Pulling out two additional books of music, she tossed them to Josh. You both frowned as he held them up, revealing two unused copies of Animal by the Neon Trees.

“In case you wanted some unmarked copies to practice with.”

“Wh--” you began, looking at her with widening eyes. But Michaels cut you off just before exiting.

“Sharing is caring, kiddos. See you tomorrow!”

Josh just laughed, shaking his head as he handed you one of the booklets. You scoffed, running a hand through your hair.

“Can you believe her?”

Josh’s voice surprised you. Apart from singing together, you didn’t really expect him to want to make conversation with you.

“She’s...something else,” you acknowledged, nodding. The two of you set off through the door and down the hallway.

“You know, for a pop song, that was actually kinda fun.”

Josh laughed, a distinct, nasal sound that made you want to laugh along with him.

“Yeah, I kinda already knew the melody before she showed it to us,” he admittedly sheepishly. You chuckled, covering your mouth with a hand.

“I, uh, I did too,” you confessed.

“It was played on the radio so much!”

“Exactly!” You agreed, put at ease. “How would we not know it?”

You and Josh made small talk as you walked, sharing your opinions on other kinds of music on the radio. Emily was right; you had more in common than you thought.

When you reached the exit of the building, Josh jerked his chin to the side.

“I gotta head this way,” he told you. Something about his expression looked like he didn’t want the conversation to end. You were remiss to deny the fact that you felt the same.

“No worries. I’ll see you at practice on Friday?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, giving you another one of those damn perfect grins. You exchanged goodbyes and parted ways, but you found yourself replaying the day’s events over in your mind until the moment your head hit the pillow.

Taglist: @kissthesun-fightthefire, @lover--leaver, @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @songbirdkisses, @bluewillowmom, @sparrowof-thedawn, @mountainofthesunn, @michaalien

[something-tofightfor]

The Big Easy (Drabble #2)

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 1658

Rating: M (Language, a little bit of sexual talk?)

Author’s Note: Who wouldn’t want to see Ryan in New Orleans? That city screams ‘blues’ ... so here you go. Hope you enjoy it. 

The heat was almost suffocating, but Ryan stayed put, sweat dripping down his brow and tracing a path down the back of his neck too, sliding beneath the collar of his white shirt. He was playing hard, taking his turns with his friend Fabienne, who had an accordion and a washboard that she too alternated with. He was having fun despite the heat, and even though it was nearly midnight, Decatur street was still wild and alive, the crowds pulsing around him - people just as sweaty as he was, not caring at all. The drinks were flowing, and though all Ryan had consumed since he and Fabienne had started playing was about a gallon and a half of water, he was still locked in. Haven’t played like this since … since New York. 

As the song Ryan was playing came to an end, the group of people that had stopped to watch him clapped and cheered politely, including Fabienne, who had picked her washboard back up, raising an eyebrow at him and mouthing the word “sun”, even as Ryan nodded, using a free hand to push his hair back from his sweaty forehead. It was cliche, but Fabienne’s version of Nina Simone’s version of the song was entrancing, and even though he’d heard her sing it nearly a hundred times before, as he strummed along, providing backing vocals when the song called for them, Ryan found his attention focused on the movement of the woman’s hands, the way her mouth looked as she sang.

 What they’d had when he was barely twenty and Fabienne a few years older had been short-lived but intense, and as Ryan played he smiled to himself, realizing that that seemed to be his MO;  falling quick and falling hard - letting himself get lost in the things around him. Not anymore. The easy friendship that had been the result of the months they’d spent together was well worth the anguish he’d first felt when she told him she was settling in to New Orleans, that she’d found a place to call her home - and it was in the city she’d abandoned as a teenager. She was Ryan’s first heartbreak - his most important - and even almost a decade later, he still loved her dearly. Fabienne and Ryan had kept in touch throughout the years, and he’d been at her wedding to Alexander, a man that had been passing through the city and had fallen in love with the woman just as quickly as Ryan had. There were no hard feelings between Ryan and Fabienne, and though she’d called him a silly boy, even has her fingers had tugged on his hair and trailed down his neck for the last time, it hadn’t taken long for Ryan to realize that she’d been right - he had still been just a kid, had no clue what he wanted or who he wanted to be… and New Orleans wasn’t going to help him figure it out and neither was she. 

 The crowd was silent as they watched the duo, but it wasn’t because they were bad - it was because they played so fluidly that it was as if they were the same person, adding in extra runs and notes, pauses that shouldn’t have been there without missing a beat. As they played, Ryan realized that this was to be their last song that night; she always ended things with a bang, and this was it - this was her finale, the way that she’d always been. When the song ended, Ryan took a deep breath, realizing that he’d closed his eyes as he sang along, one foot moving against the ground, his left hand gripping the neck of his guitar tighter than usual. He could feel the slickness on the instrument, a combination of his own sweat and the moisture in the air, and Ryan suddenly wanted a shower more than anything else in the world. I made the right call, bringin’ this guitar. 

 He took another breath, finally opening his eyes and looking over at his friend, who was grinning wildly, shaking people’s hands and adjusting her dress as she did so, using the skirt to carefully wipe the sweat from her face. She truly was at home in the French Quarter, though she hadn’t been playing much since she and Alexander’s son had been born seven months prior, but Ryan knew that it wouldn’t take her long to get back into the swing of things… and if the way she’d played that night and the nights before were any indication, she was focused. “Are you ready, Brenner?” He grinned at hearing his name in her thick accent and rolled his shoulders, reaching down into his guitar case for the dry cloth he kept there, slowly and carefully wiping it over the smooth wood of the Gibson. 

 By the time he finished, settling the guitar back into the hard case, Fabienne was packed up as well, holding a folded stack of bills in her hand, which she then presented to Ryan, who tucked them into his wallet without counting them. Good night, and it’s still early. “Where’s Alex?” The woman smiled, a hand smoothing back her hair and she gestured down the street. “Again?” The woman laughed, stepping over to Ryan, fingers hooked around the strap of the bag she’d slung over her shoulder, which carried both instruments and the folding stool she’d perched on all night. “I can’t blame him, those beignets are incredible. 

 “They are, I ate about a thousand of them when I was pregnant with Cecily… and your friend seems to enjoy them too, Ryan.” At the mention of you, Ryan felt himself smle, his head moving up and down. “I’m glad that they’re getting to know each other.” He nodded again, following Fabienne over to her car in a nearby parking lot, securing the instruments in the trunk. For the past few days - ever since you’d arrived in New Orleans, you and Alexander had spent time getting to know each other while Ryan and Fabienne reconnected. The purpose of the trip wasn’t to busk, though practice was necessary in order to do what Ryan had really wanted to do with Fabienne: record a video of them playing together in a setting that wasn’t a studio. 

 Did she have a voice that would be perfect for it ? Yes. Was she surprised that Ryan didn’t want to go professional? She was. But she understood - because as you’d said to him in Vegas, it wasn’t about having a perfect recording every time - it was about the way it felt to sing and play. As they made their way down the street toward the cafe where you and Alexander were waiting, Ryan stepped closer to Fabienne, ducking his head down as they walked, pausing in front of the door to the 24 hour cafe. “Ladies first, Fabi.” She laughed at his nickname for her, bowing slightly as she stepped through the door, Ryan following. 

 Though he’d last seen you only a few hours before, the moment he laid eyes on you, the deep purple of your maxi dress rich against your skin, Ryan felt his chest get tight, watching as you sat up straighter at the table, raising your coffee cup to your lips. Fabienne sank down onto a seat next to Alexander, the man leaning over to kiss her, her hands eagerly reaching for the powdered confections on the table in front of them. “Have a good night?” You spoke quietly to him, leaning in to press a kiss to his bearded cheek, your fingers moving to the back of his head, curling the damp hair at the nape of his neck around your fingertips. “You guys play like you used to?”

  On the flight to New Orleans, Ryan had told you about his history with Fabienne in detail, elaborating on the things that he’d first told you about her when you he’d told you his plan to reach out to some of his contacts on your trip across the country. You took it in stride - as you did with most things post-Jackie, but Ryan had been nervous for you to meet the woman for the first time, not knowing what he’d do if he ever came face to face with someone else that you’d been intimate with any point in your life. But it seemed that you’d taken to Fabienne as quickly as everyone that met her, and Ryan was glad. They’d opened their home to the two of you, and Ryan could tell that you weren’t looking forward to leaving. “Yeah,” he grinned, nodding his head. “Yeah, we did.” You licked your lips, staring at Ryan for a moment before you broke eye contact, reaching out for one of the beignets on the table and holding it up to him before taking a bite and setting the remainder of it down on the plate, the powdered sugar drifting over your hand and against your lips, even as you chewed. 

 “Want one? They taste great.” You spoke after you swallowed, and Ryan barely let you get the words out before he leaned in, taking your hand and bringing your fingertips to his lips, sucking the powder from them without batting an eye. “Shit, Ry!” Your eyes widened, darting over to Fabienne and Alexander, but they were speaking animatedly to each other, not paying attention, and when your gaze returned to him he saw that you were looking at him with hooded eyes, the skin of your chest and shoulders reddening as he gave the same treatment to each digit in turn, his long fingers closing around your entire hand and squeezing when he finished. 

 He tugged you closer, lips finding your cheek first and then your mouth, slipping his tongue in with ease and tasting the pastry. “Nah,” he sighed as he pulled away, feeling your other hand tightening against his neck, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s what I’ve got you for.” 

---

[alchemisland]

Mike’s list of Irish punk bangers

Recently I’ve been attempting to recall the results of a certain patch-decked census, namely the list of one-off punk bands I’ve seen over the years. Next came another, more troubling thought: if tomorrow morning a hemorrhage turned my wits to water, who would wrest this mantle and detail those defunct Irish punk and metal bands who split without leaving behind a recording? If not I, then who?

Rather than spouting a list of band names so unheard as to seem almost religiously profane when uttered aloud, I recall only the time when conjuring a selection suchlike was easy and did not require considerable aforethought, which counts as work and is thus un-punk. 

Perhaps it’s misremembrance which worries most. 

Striving to immortalize these rarities which, like rare nightbugs, enter one’s ear and soon thereafter die, I will compile these annals myself. I’ve opted for a regular selection of arbitrary Irish underground and alternate tunes. Mostly punk and extreme metal, although there’s post-punk, bassy weirdness, drone, rock&roll and hip hop throughout.

I haven’t yet considered breakdown metrics. By subgenre or county of origin perhaps, but that’s for a future iteration to say. Just count your good sense badges and be glad I didn’t use the originally planned ‘Pale Shadows’ and ‘From the Bog’ headings for Dublin and rest-of-country songs respectively.

From the forge of Hephaestus to your plateless breast, three of my favourite underground Irish songs:

Violins is Not the Answer - Sick

Unless someone’s asking what luthiers make, Violins is Not the Answer. However, Violins were someone’s answer when they tore the tucked shirt off Galway punkdom with their raucous 2011 debut Green Diesel and Poitin. It’s a time-tested sob story of Irish scene cohesion that lets so fresh a band go unnoticed, unhailed and handsomely unkempt outside their home county; it’s this exact myopia, although antipode, which confined Lovecraft in Rhode Island and left Howard’s hypothalamus on the dash under a Cross Plains sun. 

Aside from the band themselves, I doubt there’s another  person alive who has heard this album more than I. I’ve proudly flown that battered, cider-stained flag throughout a local and global invasion until Violins, not 42, became the answer, at least for me.

Has it really been that long? Eight years on it still excites much as the first time. Its engine-revving opening track conjures images of sputtering roadsters chewing the starting line of a Mad Max outback race, while the final upstroked riddums of its GBH-esque closer Sick promises the tinny best of Shitty Limits alongside the sombre heights of FNM’s Midlife Crisis.

Guitars that sound like they’re being played with chainmail’d fingers, vorpal bass tapping, ska pick it ups to HxC stick it ups (middle fingers in this instance), Green Diesel crams a maelstrom of alt genres into a curt 26-ish minute runtime. Ben’s phlegm-tinged vocals lead the sonic vanguard, bolstered and occasionally shelved in favour of fireman-cum-drummer Donal’s softer warble on cryptid welfare anthem Vampire on the Dole.

Sick is my favourite tune. The song, the album’s only track exceeding a three minute runtime, combines everything that makes Violins worth ear-time in the epoch of overchoice. Although Class Ayes and Dickheads Picnic deliver the nutkicks exactly how frontman Ben, of Psychopigs, Hardcore Priests and Doppelskangerz fame, wants them delivered, Sick offers a sample book of greatness to come across two recorded albums. Containing an otolaryngologist-approved mix of harsh shouting and actual singing, Ben’s disarming foghorn timbre sweeps us slowly toward the finish after a suppressing fire of growled insistence, “You ain’t never gonna come//between me and my bottle.”

Fans of short time good time are well served with riffy tunes in the vein of punchier Propagandhi songs, albeit playfully apolitical. Littered with in-jokes and avowedly pro substance, these tracks stink of fun in the studio, a subterranean lodge affectionately christened the Fritzl Bunker. Even angry songs fizz with youthful energy. It makes me want to drink malibu from a shoe in GG Allin’s house. It rouses me to a bubbling zenith of bacchic hedonism which Andrew W.K. can’t hold a candle to. 

There’s much here not found elsewhere; adjoining on Keytar Mr Jimmy Penguin of Skratch Games fame, his genius confined only by the breadth of his current interest; also the album’s producer. You can tell Jimmy put work on this record. Every groove is warm and tipped to perfect balance with just the right amount of hiss; right in the sense that it’s sometimes wrong. 

Since disbanded, there’s two albums worth of raw riffage to enjoy. From Refused rip-offs and Exploited shouts-outs to Elvis Costello tracks played backwards, find this album, buy a CD and tell your Granny this picnic is for dickheads.

I’m rambling. Violins is not the Answer. For my money, the best punk band in Ireland post 2010.

https://violinsisnottheanswer.bandcamp.com/track/sick

Divisions Ruin - Srebrenica/Merely Existing

I won’t lie. Much like a former athlete whose varsity gout impeded athletic excellence, I’ve had to settle here. I wanted the track Srebrenica from Division Ruin’s side of the Easpa Measa split - another band we’ll encounter later, or if not here than absolutely in future installments, should they ere be writ. 

I have the vinyl. Whenever I want to sonically experience withstanding a carpet bombing, I stick the needle down, turn the table over, sit in the lotus position and wait for oblivion. This track absolutely slays. The opening riff, an atomic discharge of heavy bass, distorted guitar and technical drumming from the scene stalwart and filler-player-extraordinaire John K, sears the ears, and one might be forgiven for touching that dial. Then the vocals come. Impassioned howls from the furious maw of Cirarot, which sound almost prehistoric in their primal ferocity. With my eyes closed, I feel the cymbal crashes like great waves and imagine people of the dawn age battling terrible beasties, although I’m not sure if she’s the lizard or its prospective prey. 

Although all their recorded tracks offer something for filth-seekers, I struggled to find another which accurately conveyed with sufficient brutality the blunt force flavour Srebrenica proffers. However you locate this song, ensure you’ve your iodine pills to hand; shit is about to get nuclear. In lieu of an active link, here’s another hefty slab from the same split.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARGqt0r_cVg

Easpa Measa- Vargold

B-side of the Divisions Ruin split, Easpa Measa deliver a cleaner, dare I say, more mature crust experience. Less raw but equal in ferocity, Easpa Measa’s Eric’s howls are twisted as the metal he contorts for his angry punky art, conjuring images of Ireland with reintroduced wolves.

We picture them on the plain, endemic of wider wildness among the populace. However you fall on the lupine legacy of Eireann’s isle, Easpa Measa deliver perfect high kicks on every tier. Riffs, loud bass and amazing drumming from Ken Sweeney, another scene stalwart also of Harvester fame, while Clodagh’s vocals, whose shrieking ire can only be matched by the shipwrecking songs of the sirens themselves, compliment Eric’s baleful howls.

Bring back the wolf indeed. Although so many years since its release the band have disbanded with ne’er a wolf attendant at a single show, this song’s singular ferocity more than accounts for any deficit of wolfnishness on the island. Don’t miss this amazing video from their final show, alongside the Freebooters at the Boh’s club in Dublin, with bonus front row Mike Dempsey (that’s me!).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wIQC6wk7sY

If you like this list or the tunes therein, let me know your thoughts and why they activated your nodding lever. 

If other bands are close to your heart but far from the zeitgeist, comment or PM with appropriate links and I’d be glad to include your suggestion.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this short post. I’ll have interesting content by the fishgut bucketload in 2020, but should/hope to have one more live before yuletide at least. 

Please drop a like and share this post with your favourite PUNX. Give them the gift of Violins this Christmate. An early stocking filler to ensure the loyalty of nephews and nieces come the post-yule divorce news, here’s an.. Important music video I made for their track Dickheads Picnic.