#I don’t know how saxophones work so if you’re a musical prodigy don’t come at me lol

[ask-the-colony-tree-siblings]

i need to see inv playing a saxophone

please it would be so funny

(no pressure ofc ^^')

Fuck it. Saxophone Inv.

(I stole the image of the saxophone off the internet cause there’s no way I’m drawing one of those things)

[kishimoto-did-us-dirty]

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

[knightofameris]

an outstanding performance — marvel (stark!reader)

Setting: an AU where Peter never quit band and Michelle, Flash, and others are also in band, platonic fic!!! Gender: Neutral! Contains: fluff Word Count: 3.7k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HOLY SHIT)

Summary: Being Tony’s kid meant everyone expected you to be some prodigy in some way. And you were—a musical prodigy at least. The last year of marching band was approaching and you’re definitely gonna be heartbroken. But as long as you had Peter, Ned, and MJ by your side it’ll all be okay

a/n: I wanted to pump something out since I haven’t posted and I’ve always wanted to write something with Peter in band because I WAS A BAND KID IN HIGH SCHOOL. So. It’s also not my best work but I had fun because i reALLY MISS BAND. AND THIS IS JUST A COMFORT FIC FOR ME TBH LMAO [repost from my old account @knightofmarvel​]

There’s a lot of band terms that I don’t think people will understand unless you were a band kid so here’s a little… mini explanation. This is what I used for my band by the way.

Sound off = just be louder I guess? Met = metronome The box = the area in the stadium where the announcer is always in Trumpet, mellophone, baritone/euphonium, tuba = brass instruments Flute, clarinet, alto sax, tenor sax, bari sax, bass clarinet = woodwind instruments Percussion = anything you can hit with a stick basically (including piano because piano keys control something that hits the string) Guard/color guard = the people who spin flags, sabers, and rifles. They also toss it in the air and do other crazy shit (deadass, guard people were so badass i dont get why people called them discount cheerleaders when guard works just has hard, if not harder. like u try tossing a fucking rifle up in the air. this girl legitimately went an entire show after splitting her brow causing her to bleed horribly and finished smiling soooo) Drum majors = people who conduct and is also basically in charge of the entire band Reps = doing something over and over, usually a certain exercise in music or marching technique or a certain part(s) of the show Set = Can mean multiple things, either a certain part of the show or getting ready for the rep they’re about to do (usually shown by holding the instrument up in “set” position) Stand-by = relaxed but still in attention Holding at pistol/rifle = more relaxed but usually saved in show or when instructors/whoever tells stories. Different instruments have different positions thus the pistol/rifle Horns up = instrument in mouth Horns down = instrument not in mouth, same position as Set.

Let me know if there are any mistakes!  **no beta, we die like men

Enjoy! 

“Senior year boyyysssssssss!” You screamed once you entered campus that warm summer morning. Ned and Peter turned around to see you running towards them, about to tackle them. Other band leaders, and especially the senior drum majors, cheered with you.

Ned and Peter, however, did not.

Instead, their eyes widened in fear and they raised their arms up, telling you to not jump at them. But alas, it was too late and you tackled them to the ground.

“Dog pile!” Someone, Adam (one of the drum majors) probably, shouted. And one by one, a group of your fellow bandmates fell on top of you. Each one of them caused you to let out a breath. Peter and Ned taking the brute of it.

“Alright alright, you idiots,” your band directed teased. You all looked up to see Mrs. Ha standing there with her hands on her hips. “Get up, you guys are scaring the freshmen.” She glanced over to the bandroom door where tiny heads were sticking out.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, everyone starting to stand up off of each other. You raised both of your hands down for Peter and Ned, they both took it and you helped them up.

“Damn, (Y/n), why’d you have to do that?” Ned asked. He then reached down for his hat. Something that was mandatory for all band members to wear during practice. Especially during band camp in the summer.

“It’s tradition!” You cheered, wrapping your arm around each of their neck. “Can you guys believe it? We’re seniors.”

“Yeah, and you’re woodwind captain man,”  Peter nudged you in the side.

You grinned and then walked in front of them to grab your backpack, clarinet case, and water jug. You turned around once they were all in hand. “Yeah, but at least I got my two trusty section leaders to lead with me.”

“What about me?”

The three of you turned around to see MJ with her hand on her hip. She had a slight smirk on her face.

“Uh,” you started to say, “to be fair, you’re in the brass section.”

“You could have switched,” MJ retorted, walking up to you and lightly punching you in the shoulder.

And you could have. Afterall, you were a musical prodigy. Especially considering the fact that you were the kid of Tony Stark. You didn’t have much of a knack for STEM, decent at it but only when you put in the extra work to the point of stress. But you had a knack for music.

Your dad noticed your gravitation towards music when you were a toddler and when you didn’t enjoy being in the lab as much as he thought you would have been, as a Stark. But you enjoyed music so he signed you up for piano classes. Then you wanted to learn more instruments and made your way through the wind instruments and then more percussion instruments. From flute to clarinet to alto saxophone, from trumpet to french horn, to, of course, piano and the drumset. You had a lot of range. The clarinet being your favorite instrument to play.

You narrowed your eyes at MJ, “But then you wouldn’t have been brass captain. And do you think I can leave the woodwinds to be left in charge by these losers?” You pointed to Peter and Ned.

“Hey!” They both protested.

“Guys! Roll call is soon and they’re introducing all the leaders to the entire band,” Adam said, holding the metronome in his hand.

“Yeah, got it,” You and Michelle said, both with a slight authoritative tone in your guys’ voice. You both exchanged glances with a raised brow.

“Wow, the captain in you guys is really coming out,” Peter teased. You both rolled your eyes. You went to go walk beside Michelle. On the way into the bandroom.

“Oh man, I just hope I don’t accidentally make a freshman pee their pants this year.” You walked straight into the bandroom and Peter laughed, remembering that clearly last year when you were section leader.

“I just don’t want to do running block,” Ned complained, trudging behind you. “I hate band camp.”

“Ditto,” MJ remarked. Peter shot her a look.

“Shouldn’t you be hyping it up, for the freshmen?”

MJ shrugged, “Yeah, but I can complain to you guys.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“Sound off guys!” You shouted as the band did reps across the field in across-the-floors. In a moment, the voices of the members got louder, counting in time with the met. You looked around yourself, making sure there were no members dicking around too much. With it being so far into the marching season already, you didn’t want any of them to dick around so much where they’d regret it if your guys’ band didn’t perform to the best of your ability at your last competitions.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he prepped to step off on the other side. He stuck his tongue out then faced forward with his clarinet in hand. His mouth moving with his voice being just loud enough to be heard as he began to count off. He was the backline with three other freshmen near him who didn’t count at all. All three of them clarinets as well.

You called out their names, telling them to sound off until one of the visual instructors cut the metronome. Peter continued, trying to keep time without it loud enough for the freshmen to stay with him.

“Alright, stop!” The instructor, Alicia, shouted. Peter stopped, relaxing his arms and putting his clarinet in his hand with standby. The entire band stared at him in silence, waiting for what he had to say. “We have three more competitions to go. One more football game. And then we have Grand Nationals. We’ve been doing this since June. It’s October! I’m doing all I can to push you guys, it doesn’t matter if you’re a freshman anymore. You’ve been in this program so you know what we expect. In the end, it’s up to all of you guys how bad you want it. Do you guys want to make finals?”

A chorus of yeah’s came from the students. Something caught your eye as the instructor continued to talk. Flash was dicking around, mocking the instructor and when the instructor was quiet you called him out.

“Hey Flash, why don’t you run a lap?” You asked. Lucky you, he was an alto saxophone, so completely in your control.

“Wh-What? Why? I didn’t do anything,” Flash argued. You raised a brow.

“Oh really? So you weren’t even listening to Alicia as she was talking?” You retorted. “You said you weren’t doing anything right? I guess that’s still a lap.” Someone next to him nudged him, telling him not to argue and he groaned.

He walked off to the side, setting his instrument down.

“Next time, don’t mock her when she’s trying to help us. Especially since you’re the only senior who doesn’t sound off.” Flash glared at you while you kept a smirk on your face.

He murmured, “Fucking Stark.” Then went off into the run. That’ll earn him a talk after practice.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” Alicia said, shooting you a smile. You gave her a nod

Percussion and color guard began walking into the stadium and prepped to practice with the rest of the band.

“Alright, I’ll cut this rep short, go grab a gush and wait for instructions,” Alicia ordered. The teenagers began to run off the field and towards their water jugs were with their own section.

“I don’t get why Flash is even more annoying,” Peter muttered. You and Peter watched Flash continue to run around the track as you drank water from your jug.

“It’s probably because he didn’t get any leadership position,” Cindy suggested. She stood next to you two, also a clarinet section leader.

“Yeah, well, Ned deserved the alto sax position,” you said. “Not Flash, he’s an asshole.” The other two nodded their heads.

A high pitched whining noise came from the box and everyone flinched and groaned, staring up at it.

“Oh, sorry guys,” the band director, Mrs. Ha, said. “Hornline captains, lead the warm up for your section. Mr. C and I won’t have enough time this practice.”

You turned to face your section, calling out to them and raising your instrument in the air. You led them to wear the respective drum major that conducted for the woodwinds for warm up stood on her podium. Everyone was wetting their reeds in their mouth, save for the flute players who stood in arc warming up their instrument. The reed players began placing their reeds on their mouth pieces, then also warming it up a bit. You walked around, talking to a few of the leaders here and there. Then walking up to one of the seniors in the clarinet section and making them center while also handing them a tuner for later.

With a wave of your hand and your fist closing, everyone stopped playing.

“Stand-by,” you called out. Each member stopped fidgeting and their ears looked to you attentively. “Set!”

In a ripple effect from the edge of the arc to the center, everyone brought their horns up. You smirked. “Nice job guys, we’ve come a long way since freshman band camp. Same warm up, make sure to watch the hands.” You pointed up to the drum major, Kay, who stood on top of the podium.

“Stand-by,” she called out once more. “Doing the woodwind warm up and make sure to watch my hands. Set!”

The rest of practice went by smoothly. The drum majors standing on the podium, instructors up in the box telling instructions through a mic for the head drum major to repeat. The entire band doing what was told. Parents sat in the stands watching their kids practice.

You could have sworn you saw your dad and a few others in the stands that practice. But you paid it no mind, he’d usually come to competitions but he had never gone to a practice.

So when practice was over and the band was dismissed, you, Peter, Ned, and MJ began to set back to the bandroom after all the underclassmen cleared out from the stadium. And after you gave Flash another stern talking about attitude and disrespecting instructors and leaders. Which led to him running a lap and then doing push-ups.

You and MJ were pushing the huge water jugs back as well, all of your stuff riding on the bottom of the cart with MJ’s. All four of you were joking around when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey kid!”

You jolted, turning around to see your dad standing there with Morgan on his shoulders. Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Natasha stood next to him, all of them with a smile on their face.

“Dad!” You called out, letting go of the cart and running up to him. Tony quickly set Morgan down and you hugged him. He let out an ‘oof’ on impact but hugged you back. “You’ve never came to practice before!”

“Well, I thought I should,” Tony said, kissing the top of your head. “You stink.” You tore away from him, laughing when you noticed his scrunched up face.

“Yeah, my hat’s kinda gross from practice.”

You turned to face Morgan and picked her up, setting her on your hip. You looked at the others, “Why are you guys here.”

“Got bored,” Rhodey answered. “Then thought, we might as well see what the musical Stark was up to.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re so cool, (Y/n)!” Morgan hugged you around your neck. “But scary. Just like mommy!” Your dad and you chortled with laughter and Pepper shook her head, grabbing her out of your arms.  

“Yeah, you yelled at that kid for a good ten minutes,” Nat said. “Good job.”

“I’m surprised,” Steve spoke up. “I didn’t realize marching band was modeled after the military bands until Rhodey told me.”

“Yeah, you never came to one of my shows,” you playfully glared at him. But you began laughing and hit him lightly. “I’m kidding, you guys are always busy. But-” you looked at them, hopeful “-my last football game is this Friday. Then three more local competitions until Grand Nats in Indiana.”

The adults exchanged glances with each other.

“Well, you know Pep and I will be at Grand Nats,” Tony said, ruffling your hair.

“And me!” Morgan added.

“And Morgan,” Tony laughed.

“We’ll… Try.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s cool,” you replied nonchalantly. “You guys are Avengers, other priorities.”

“Not to interrupt, but your friend looks like she’s struggling with the jugs.” Rhodey pointed behind you, and you saw MJ trying to push the jugs over a whole in the ground. Peter and Ned stood there, laughing at her. Your eyes widened and you bolted over to her after passing Morgan to your dad.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

***

The band sat in the stands, playing pep tunes whenever they were supposed to while the football game went on. You, of course, were dicking around with Peter and Ned. Ned sat behind you with his section and you sat beside Peter on the edge. MJ was far off in brassland, reading a book since she hated her section. She really hated trumpets.

Then the drum majors motioned to the saxes that they could do their thing and Ned stood up, ushering his section to stand up as well. You smiled, as this was one of your favorite traditions during football games.

Ned played the first note, and everyone following after. The tune of ‘Beautiful Girl’/’Stand By Me’ leaving the horns. There were a few pitch problems, but it’s not like it was a competition. Football games were always one to just relax, have fun, and do dumb shit.

Mrs. Ha even watched with a smile on her face.

“How do you think MJ’s faring?” You asked Peter. He looked back.

“Still reading her book,” he replied. “Dude, this is the last time we’re ever gonna hear Stand By me.”

You shoved Peter, “Bruh, don’t talk about it! I’m gonna cry.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “This is the last time we wear our uniform for a football game.”

“Peter!”

Peter laughed, raising his arms up in the air to block you from trying to smack him.

“Man, I’ll just do Drum Corps or whatever after this,” you muttered after giving up on hitting Peter.

“You could, that’d be badass,” Peter said. “Maybe do like percussion like tenor drums or something.”

You nodded your head, “I totally should. I’m gonna miss band a lot.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. “But at least we can focus more on our other extracurriculars.”

You raised a brow at him. “You mean your internship?” Peter nodded his head. “You should’ve just quit band man.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but band is fun and you’re still in it with your internship. Though, I think MJ would have found out a lot sooner if I did though.”  You laughed, remembering how MJ was only slightly thrown off on Peter possibly being Spider-Man because of how he was able to be in band and a superhero. Though the same applied to you

“Okay, sure, but I don’t do missions on season, and I fight crime a little less,” you retorted. He laughed again at you, eyes filled with amazement. You were cheering at the football team, not that you knew what was going on. Just, everyone else was cheering plus it was fun.

Peter was always amazed at how smoothly you fit into the leader role, something that would put you at an advantage if you ever led the Avengers in the near future. It definitely helped when you led groups in missions or when none of the older adults were around in times of crises. Then whenever a freshman was upset or a band member got injured on the field, you always somehow ended up right next to them. Even tripping while running across the field but falling into a roll then jumping back up, then carrying said injured member off the field to make sure they were okay.

He laughed to himself, remembering each moment he shared with you and all the other band members. He’s going to miss it a lot, but he knew you’d miss it even more.

***

The sounds of cheering, the rush of adrenaline, the musical notes and perfect harmonies accompanying the melody reverberated throughout the stadium. Then when the last note came out of your horn and everyone snapped their horns down, panting and sweat glimmering on everyone’s forehead, you smiled. You started almost laughing with tears coming down your face.

You enjoyed jumping off buildings to feel the adrenaline and going through the city but that could never compare to performing. Especially considering all the hard work you, and the entire band, put in for this particular moment. Your smile widened even more when you saw both of the senior drum majors on the podium in front of you also smiling, panting, but tears in their eyes.

Then the bass drum hit and in time with the beat, the members marched off the field or went to their respective prop to push it off the field. You were part of the latter, meeting up with Peter at the same prop.

He flashed you a smile, “Don’t cry yet (Y/n), we gotta wait before the senior traditions.” Then you only started crying more when you realized you wouldn’t be on the receiving end anymore. You would be the senior participating in said traditions. You wiped the tears off with your gloves.

“Shut up, Peter,” you laughed. “I can’t help it, we made it into finals. That was our final performance.”

“Was it your best performance?” Peter asked. You just started bawling more, nodding your head. At this point you weren’t even pushing the prop, but you knew Peter didn’t even need help, being Spider-Man and all. “Then that’s all that matters.”

When the entire band made it out in the -5 degree cold air, putting their instruments away and giving the props to the band dads to put away, you finally stopped crying. Mostly because tears in this weather was always an ass with how cold it is, especially considering the uniform doesn’t give you any warmth. Before your band director could round everyone up to talk about how it was the best performance your band had ever performed this year, that it didn’t matter what place you got, you felt a small body wrap around your legs.

“(Y/n)!!”

“Mo! What are you doing?” You asked, picking her up into your arms. She was bundled in warm clothing and you saw your dad and Pepper. Then even in the distance, you saw the Avengers which made you beam.

“That was great,” your dad said, kissing the top of your head.

“Wait! No PDA in uniform.” you took a small step back. He rolled his eyes. “Kidding, I don’t care anymore. Thanks dad.” He ruffled your hair the moment you gave your shako (hat) for Morgan to hold.

“Yeah, honey, even your solo was amazing,” Pepper said, fixing your hair then kissing the top of your head.

“It was…” Morgan paused, her face scrunching as she went deep in thought. “An outstanding performance!” Morgan cheered, hugging you tightly. You, Tony, and Pepper exchanged glances.

With a raised brow, you asked, “Where’d she learn those words?”

“No clue.” Tony shrugged. Then he grabbed his dad-bag and pulled out a few cards and even small gifts. “By the way, this is from everyone. They’ll come stop by to say hi but after they have a mission to get to.”

A small smile made its way on your face and you even started crying again. Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down. Morgan held onto you even tighter and Pepper placed a comforting hand on your hand.

“Thank you for coming, I’m gonna miss this so much,” you sniffled. Looking around you at your bandmates and all the joyful tears being shed, the hugs, the laughter. None of them were even staring at your dad in this moment because of the last performance. Which says a lot. Well, save for a few but it didn’t matter.

“I know,” your dad said softly. “But you got to experience it and I am so proud of you, (Y/n). Section leader and then woodwind captain? Amazing. I can barely play piano for the life of me.”

You chuckled, “I can’t code for the life of me.”

“But one thing’s for certain,” Pepper said. “Starks are always a natural for their passions.”

Your band director called for everyone to gather around to give them one last after-performance talk for the end of the season. You stood next to MJ, Peter, and Ned. Some of you with tears in your eyes, but all of you with a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. Four years of band was difficult, but you all made due with each other.

You glanced back, towards your family and the other Avengers and you were so happy to know that there on the field, you knew they were all watching. They all supported you through your musical career and would never stop.

Then the drum majors dismissed all of you and you turned to try to talk to your family once more, even making eye contact with Steve until all the freshmen and other underclassmen bombarded you with hugs and being all teary eyed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it guys,” you mentioned, looking at Peter, Ned, and MJ, trying to get them to help you out, “I’ll be doing drumline this year, I’ll still hang ‘round the bandroom.”

Tony chuckled, watching you talk to the younger teenagers and hugging each of them. He was proud of you, no doubt about it.

[cinanamon]

marching band!taehyung

saxophonist!taehyung x color guard!reader 

a/n: majority of this is from my own experience

Taehyung had been into the saxophone since he was little

he wasn’t a prodigy; he took classes in school but he was far from the best

It took a while to even make a sound, but he didn’t let that bring him down

sure, Taehyung wished he could be first saxophone by his middle school performance, but he wasn’t there to be the best; Taehyung just loved playing saxophone

So when he was picking classes for high school, his eyes gravitated towards band

Marching band was necessary if you took the class, but Taehyung didn’t mind—maybe because he didn’t know what it was

So Summer rolled around and that meant one thing: band camp

It was odd; he woke up early for once in a long time, and his eyes widened in awe as the band field came into view, tens of teens with instruments mingling upon the field

Taehyung was excited; these were his people

You, on the other hand, did not meet him until your junior year

you had joined freshman year with him, but you had been more on the shyer side, and you mostly stuck to the other color guard girls

But now, you were a vet; you had felt like you had been doing this all your life when you came back for band camp the third year.

You hated the heat, you hated the long hours, you hated the attitude the newbies gave you, and you hated relearning how to march

The band directors only really cared for the band, leaving color guard to trail behind and follow along

It was tedious; waiting for the “ready, set , march!” before marching in step and resetting instantly if even one person was off

Thankfully, color guard could go inside to learn moves with a flag

But, alas, you’d always have to come back outside to try them out in your sets, which you’d have to help the newbies find

A week passes before you can begin going through the beginning of the show

And you’re annoyed; you’re tired and bored from working on the show for hours already and resetting hundreds of time after a 16 count

So you might have been a little lazy, a little reckless as you entered your set within a circle of saxophones to do your toss

It’s successful, and you raise your flag and turn, prepared to flee from the circle to reach your next set within an 8 count—

And your flag slams down on the shoulder’s of an unsuspecting saxophone. You’re instantly awake and you try to stammer an apology as you continue moving to your set, but the boy only gives you a tight smile past his wince. The show must go on

You cringe but continue. After the director calls for you to relax, you turn to go apologize directly, but the boy is talking in a large group so you sigh and decide to wait as you go on a water break

And it kills you when you redo the set because now the boy gives you a wide berth, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed rather than thankful

And as the sets progress, you find yourself at the back of the field, nearly alone

You sigh; this was going to be boring

That was, until the boy you smacked strongly with a large metal pole found his set on the yard-line beside you

your eyes trailed up to the sky, and you questioned what you did in a past life before you brought your gaze back down to find him smiling at you

And his smile was so bright and genuine that you found it even harder to look right at him as you flushed

God his smile was even brighter than the sun for Christ’s sake, so where could you look without going blind, really?

“Um, I’m sorry for hitting you with my flag, again.” you brought a hand up to scratch the back of your sweaty neck

He laughed, causing his wet and wild hair to shake from behind his headband. “It’s really no problem! There was no where for you to go between us. Did I give you enough room?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah; thank you.” And he smiled again and it was contagious enough to raise the corners of your lips too

A friendship began to bloom between the both of you as you continued to find sets beside each other as the year progressed, from the beginner to the ballad to the closer; for nearly all 10 minutes of the show, you were never farther than three football yards. 

You spent much of your time (when not being forced to repeat sets for hours at a time) talking the day away and cloudwatching. You’d both lay down, heads beside each other but bodies opposing, and point out what you’d see, question the theme of life, and discuss trivial matters like how you were going to eat your whole fridge after practice ended

He’d always laugh at that and you couldn’t help but feel a warm and fuzzy explosion in your chest at his happiness, and a hint of pride that you caused it.

You and Taehyung also spent some of your freetime on the field showing each other how to use your crafts

He had let you try and play the saxophone once but you were so bad that he started to die laughing, causing the other band people to look at you funny

And you had tried to show him how to use the flag, but he instantly got caught up in its silk that you both decided with a smile that maybe you shouldn’t even let him attempt a toss

As the hot days of summer simmered into the early days of school, you went into competition season as good friends.

Times were good! You’d smile at each other in the hallway but once school ended and you both changed, you were inseparable as you marched to the band field. 

Things were starting to get serious as the week came down to your first competition: your band director called you all to the band tower and gave an encouraging yet warning speech about being serious and at the top of your game. You were not just playing now; you were competing

You had taken a deep breath as nerves began to set it; that was, before you felt Taehyung gently take your hand in his and squeeze

Your breath hitched as you glanced over to meet his gaze and reassuring smile, but now your nerves were kicking in for an entirely different reason

You shot a grin back but before anything else could be done, your band director dismissed you to go home

You didn’t get to ask any questions as Taehyung said goodbye to you, and you didn’t have the guts to say anything else the next day

Your first competition rolled around and you overall let yourself enjoy it; after all, you knew how it went down

Your band showed up early to the band field to practice, ate a quick pre-made lunch, and then you all filed onto the buses.

Bus-rides were long, so many of the guard girls took naps or played on their phones in lounge wear; you and your friends chose to play cards in your small junction of four seats to pass the time.

When you were within 30 minutes of the competition school, you all would pull out your bags and begin working on your hair and makeup, which was never easy; many girls would grow frustrated trying to do their eyeliner and it was common to see mirrors and bobby-pins being passed numerous times around the bus.

Once you arrived and you all received your arm bands, you had around two hours to get food and see other performances before you had to be back at the bus fully dressed and ready to practice. 

Instantly after you came down the bus steps, Taehyung bounced beside you with a grin and a skip in his step. “Ready to go?”

You smiled in amusement. “Go where?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you along before replying, “To get food, of course!” You couldn’t help the laugh and blush that came forth from your lips and upon your cheeks

And it was fun; you both stayed in the long line to buy some nachos before sharing them as you sat in the bleachers to watch show after show, some better than others

It was always so exciting to see what other bands had come up with that year, but there was always a nervous energy that would twist itself in your stomach as you began to compare your band to theirs

Taehyung would always bump your shoulder to get you out of your thoughts though, because Taehyung knew; he would give you a radiant yet gentle smile and you were instantly fine

You both had pushed your time a little too much to watch one more show, so you only had five minutes to dress. He rushed you back to your bus and you hurried on to get your uniform as he trailed back to get on his hat and gloves.

The other girls teased and rushed you and you whipped your head around; you didn’t have time to go up to the school now to change, especially if there was a line...

“Do you think I can change here?”

Another vet eyed you for a second before shrugging, “I don’t see why not.”

And so you ducked behind the seat and began to strip

You had changed partially and gotten your uniform up your legs, but as you began to pull it up over your torso, you saw Taehyung’s head pop up over the rail for the stairs

He hadn’t looked up just yet, still adjusting his gloves as he said, “Hey, director said he’s ready for us now—(y/n), oh my God, I’m so sorry!” And Taehyung nearly tumbled down the stairs onto the asphalt with how quickly he rushed off the bus, his face a matching shade of red to yours

The girls around you stared in shock for a second before laughing loudly, beginning to tease you ferociously. You scowled and ignored your blush as you yanked the uniform up all the way

As you made your way off the bus and gathered up your flags, Taehyung fell into step with you quietly. “I thought you were inside changing.”

You didn’t meet his eye but shrugged; you didn’t want to make it awkward. “There wasn’t enough time; sorry for not warning you.”

“No! No, I’m sorry for not warning you that I was coming on the bus.”

You just laughed and shook your head. “You just said you didn’t know I was on the bus,” You looked over at him and bumped his shoulder. “It’s okay, really!” He still seemed to feel bad and embarrassed, but he managed a smile and it seemed to instantly fall behind you

You two separated as your band practiced for 30 minutes before your performance. You took a deep breath and met Taehyung’s encouraging bright smile as you stepped upon the field. 

Once the music started, your mind went blank. Performing became muscle memory and yet it was all you focused on. Keep your head up, smile, keep in time, move here, fully extend, and breathe and toss—!

And the show was over. Your breathing was irregular as you stayed still for a few moments before you rushed to pick up any flags on the field around you, eventually falling into line as you exited the field

Everyone changed and got a snack before you all went back to the other side of the field with the other bands for judging. You weren’t able to sit with Taehyung since you had to sit with your sections, but you shot him a bright smile when your band got third. Not bad for your first competition!

You gushed about it to him all the way to your bus, where you and the other guard girls cheered and celebrated all the ride home.

Band season went by like a whirlwind from that point on. It was fun, it was taxing, and it was busy. There was a systematic schedule you had stuck to, and you had to do a doubletake when you realized that it was nearly the end of October. 

And with that thought it sent a painful shock throughout your heart that you were nearly out of time with spending band with Taehyung. 

Well, it wasn’t like you were losing him—you were still friends and still had next year and winter guard season coming up—but the near-constant time spent with Taehyung had been the highlight of band.

You tried to ignore it as you made your way to your final competition. Practice started as normal; early, hot, and taxing. But the whole band didn’t dare complain, because you were all working hard; you all knew it was your final competitions, and you all wanted to give it your best. 

Taehyung hadn’t mentioned how little you’d see each other once band was over, but you could tell he was thinking about it by his constant glances on the field. 

You don’t get a chance to talk until you get off the bus at the state championship, and even then, Taehyung doesn’t act any different: you have fun, but you don’t talk seriously. But if you were honest, you don’t think you could handle that emotional turmoil on top of your nerves for the competition. 

You and the rest of the band try to focus on practicing and working hard, and the reality of the situation doesn’t hit you till you’re preparing to enter the field. 

The whole band is readying to enter their marching on set and mingling and while you’re trying to discuss flag placements with the girl beside you, Taehyung pops up beside you, breathless. 

He hesitates at your startled expression but he puts his hands up as he speaks in a rush. “Look, I’m just going to say it because I’m already so nervous, and I don’t think I can wait till after the show—”

You contort your brows but present a smile. “Taehyung? What—?”

“—And I know this is probably terrible timing for you and me because I don’t even know how you’re going to react and I really hope this doesn’t mess you up during the show but—”

“Taehyung—”

“—I really like you!”

And you freeze. You blink and stare up into Taehyung’s bright and fearful eyes with your own shocked and amazed ones, unable to speak.

Before you can accept and return his feelings, the band begins to march. Taehyung jumps up (nervous from just confessing and being late) and leaves you quickly to make it to his set without losing points

You also quickly ready yourself, but your mind is spinning 

And thank God color guard relied on muscle memory or you would’ve been screwed. Though you were focused on the show and your movements, part of you was very, very dizzy and far-away. If anything, it thankfully kept your nerves away.

This time as the show ended, you were still pumped full of adrenaline as you marched off the field and once you set down your flags, you instantly turned in Taehyung’s direction and stalked up to him.

He instantly flushed at your narrowed gaze, ready to apologize for liking you and confessing at the worst possible time that he probably messed you up—

Until you yanked him down by the collar to press your lips to his

His eyes widened before he kissed back, and now he was the one left feeling dizzy as you pulled away

“How dare—” you hissed, a firm grim still kept on his shirt, “—you tell me you like me without letting me tell you it back?” 

And Taehyung flushed as your fake anger burst into a beautiful and wide smile as you pulled him in for anther kiss. This time, he managed to clear his throat with a matching smile and roaring blush, “Glad you could return the favor.”

And though you two were teased to death from the entire band (apparently the saxophone section had known for months), you both found it easy to ignore them as you gazed upon each other

You two were beyond happy, and you didn’t think you could be anymore-so until your band was announced to have received first place

Your band surged to life in gasps and cheers, and Taehyung held your face between your kiss as he laughed in disbelief before he picked you up and twirled you around by your waist

He lowered you back down to kiss you passionately and happily, and you knew high school couldn’t get better than this

You’d have to remember to thank your mom for nagging you to join band

[rainh2oman]

Jazz Potluck - Episode 01.

Like countless folks around the world, I LOVE music. Pretty much any and all genres. JAZZ however, is the music that seems to bring the most joy in my life. As a creative person, I always need to have music on in the background while I work, (well, all the time really) and jazz has always seemed to catalyze my creativity.

I dig this sentiment from the late writer Anaïs Nin:

>>>"Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body’s breath, and the strings’ wails and moans are echoes of the body’s music. It is the body’s vibrations which ripple from the fingers. And the mystery of the withheld theme, known to jazz musicians alone, is like the mystery of our secret life. We give to others only peripheral improvisations."

This “Jazz Potluck” is something that I’ve been wanting to do for years and years, but I never quite got around to it... (I’ve got enough plates spinning already, not much room for another! Hehe.) Anyway, I’ll be sharing Spotify playlists here as often as I can... containing a rich mix of jazz that I love, and would love for YOU to love! I’m certainly no music critic, and I’ve no intention of “analyzing” the music I share, the way that a professional might. But, I will provide some brief personal notes about the songs in the playlists, and hopefully some jumping off points for further exploration, if you dig what you hear!

So without further ado, here’s the very first edition of my Jazz Potluck... Episode 01! There are 16 songs here, with no particular theme, other than that I DIG ‘em, and they get a lot of rotation in my headphones! Quite an eclectic mix!

Here’s the direct link to the playlist on Spotify - Jazz Potluck, Ep 01.

A preview of the tracks in the playlist, and some brief notes on the songs, below.

“Dirty Blonde” by The Bad Plus

“Giant Steps” by John Coltrane

“Chinoiserie” by Medeski, Martin and Wood

“This I Dig of You” by Hank Mobley

“The Windup” by Julian Lage

“3-in-1 Without The Oil” by Roland Kirk

“Gangsterism on the Rise” by Jason Moran

“II B.S.” by Charles Mingus

“It Might As Well Be Spring” by Brad Mehldau

“Gazzelloni” by Eric Dolphy

“Nu Nu” by Avishai Cohen

“Salmon Jump Suite” by Happy Apple

“Brother Mister” by Christian McBride & Inside Straight

“Tiffakonkae” by Kamasi Washington

“Greasy Granny” by the Charlie Hunter Trio

“Cease the Bombing” by Grant Green

Playlist - EP 01.

01. “Dirty Blonde” by the trio “The Bad Plus.” Starting this thing off with a BANG! From the moment I first heard this song back in 2004, I knew that I had stumbled on a Jazz Trio with something utterly unique in their music. A piano, bass and drum trio that has produced some delightful original material over the years, as well as a bunch of “cover” songs that in some ways, helped make them famous in the Jazz world.

For all of the critical acclaim the band has received over the years, one thing that has always stood out to me is the HUMOR in their music. They are often filed under “Avant Garde” Jazz... but they are really in a sub genre of their own. They play with real heart and soul, but they don’t take themselves too seriously, and they KNOW how to have a good time. When you hear all hell break loose at the 2:44 mark in “Dirty Blonde,” you’ll know that you came to the right party.

02. “Giant Steps” by John Coltrane. What can I say... I listen to this song pretty much EVERY MORNING when I wake up. If not immediately after I open my eyes, certainly by the time I’m making coffee. The fast paced tempo and saxophone wizardry of Coltrane and his crew in this Jazz standard always motivates me to get going.

If you’re not familiar with the song, here is a FANTASTIC video backgrounder on the piece, called “The Most Feared Song In Jazz, Explained.” I highly recommend watching it right before or after listening to the song. VERY enlightening!

03. “Chinoiserie” by the trio “Medeski, Martin and Wood.” What an amazingly funky cover of the Duke Ellington composition! I’ve been a fan of MMW since the early 90′s, and this album is probably my favorite, next to “Shack Man.” Medeski rocking the Hammond B3 Organ, Chris Wood’s bouncing bass, and Billy Martin’s frenetic drumming, make this tune just boogie right along. Be sure and listen to Duke’s original version of the song, to see how it sounds with a much larger band!

04. “This I Dig of You” by Hank Mobley. Uptempo, feel-good tune! (And I love Art Blakey’s drum solo around the 4:50 mark!) This is widely considered to be Mobley’s most popular original composition.

05. “The Windup” by Guitarist and Composer Julian Lage. This tune features his current Trio. I was a latecomer to the music of Julian Lage. I only really started listening to his music in 2019... but I’ve made up for lost time! (I think I have his entire catalogue now!) If you’re not familiar with Lage, he’s a prodigy  and was recognized as such by age 12. Now he’s in his early 30′s, and a career that’s going strong!

06. “3-in-1 Without The Oil” by Roland Kirk. If you’ve heard of Roland Kirk (who later went by Rahsaan Roland Kirk) you’re likely aware that he was famous for playing multiple instruments at once. I always found his crazy, loosy-goosey style to be sort of “optimistic” if that makes sense? Very unconventional, and devil may care! 

And speaking of his talent for playing multiple horns at the same time, here’s a passage from my FAVORITE novel, “Another Roadside Attraction.” Author Tom Robbins seems to really peg Roland Kirk in just one sentence.

>>>They are playing phonograph records, some wild new jazz. Straining my ears just now I heard Amanda ask, “John Paul, is it true that Roland Kirk is the entire Count Basie orchestra in drag?"

07. “Gangsterism on the Rise” by Jason Moran. I love the heavy left hand Moran utilizes on his piano in this tune. (Not unlike Pianist Ethan Inverson from “The Bad Plus” in “Dirty Blonde,” the first track in this playlist.) Boom boom boom! Here’s a quote from a music critic that pegs Moran’s style quite well: >>>“Moran is a spellbinding virtuoso who moves between boogie, avant-funk and Brahms as if he had never heard a good reason not to.”

He’s also a stylish sort of fellow....

08. “II B.S.” by Charles Mingus. I’ll have MUCH more to say about Mingus in future playlists... but I had to include at least one of his compositions in this 1st Episode! He is likely my all time favorite Jazz Composer. (He was an amazing bassist as well, but his compositions are what really knock my socks off.)

09. “It Might As Well Be Spring” by Brad Mehldau. This album was Mehldau’s major label debut, and was the first album of his that I purchased way back in 1995! What an AMAZING debut! I chose to include this cover of "It Might As Well Be Spring” because of it’s unusual and playful time signature. It’s a classic Rodgers and Hammerstein tune from the 1945 musical film “State Fair.” Mehldau does something really surprising with this classic tune, and it was such a breath of fresh air to me when I first heard it!

Here’s a passage I dig, from the great jazz book “Playing Changes,” by veteran Jazz Writer Nate Chinen. He zeroes in on what makes Mehldau’s rendition of the song unique.

>>>Introducing Brad Mehldau opens with a quick spray of staccato: tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, like someone knocking impatiently at a door. It’s the preface to Mehldau’s arrangement of a show tune, “It Might As Well Be Spring,” from the Rodgers and Hammerstein film musical State Fair. The song had long been a verifiable jazz standard, with dozens of canonical recordings: by singers like Sarah Vaughan, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and Nina Simone, and by others ranging from the pianist Bill Evans to the trumpeter Clifford Brown.

>>>Mehldau’s version arrived in 1995, precisely half a century after the line “I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented” made its way into the popular lexicon. He and his trio had made a neat structural modification to the tune, tinkering with its pulse in a way that their syncopated prelude set in clear relief. Instead of the even 4/4 cadence known as common time, the track races along in 7/8, creating the impression of a rhythmic hiccup, or a sprint with a hitch in its stride.

>>>Jazz musicians have been dabbling in irregular meters since well before Dave Brubeck’s enormously popular 1959 album Time Out, which made them an exotic selling point. What’s striking about Mehldau’s performance is where he ventures after the opening vamp, phrasing the melody in a cool, flowing cadence even as his partners, the bassist Larry Grenadier and the drummer Jorge Rossy, busy themselves with percolating chatter behind him. In his articulation of the theme, and in a solo full of deft intricacies punctuated with breathlike pauses, Mehldau gives the song a sleek, appealing contour. His performance doesn’t feel herky-jerky or cerebral. It feels natural, even inevitable.

10. “Gazzelloni” by Eric Dolphy. "Out To Lunch” was the first album I ever bought in the “Avant-Garde Jazz” genre. I certainly wouldn't have been ready for this album in my teens or early 20′s, but I’m really happy that I developed a taste for the genre in later years. It’s some of the most expressive Jazz that I’ve ever heard, and I LOVE to have it on when I’m designing something, or working on a painting. Seems to connect the creative synapses in my brain somehow!

11. “Nu Nu” by Israeli Bassist and Composer Avishai Cohen. (Not to be confused with the Jazz Trumpeter of the same name.) This song is the opening track to Cohen’s album “Continuo” and really sets the tone for the rest of the album. I don’t know what time signatures Cohen uses in this tune, but they change up frequently over the course of 5 minutes. He’s a great composer, and a MONSTER on the bass. It’s said that he took up the bass in his early teens, because he was inspired by the legendary bassist Jaco Pastorius. (An inspiration that likely applies to MANY Jazz bassists since the 70′s.)

12. “Salmon Jump Suite” by the trio known as “Happy Apple.” This song is a smash-em crash-em DEMOLITION DERBY.... and I mean that in the most respectful and delightful way! Play it loud, and I think you’ll agree. Badass.

Oh, and the Drummer is Dave King, who’s main gig is as the Drummer for the aforementioned trio “The Bad Plus.” King is one of my favorite drummers, not just in Jazz, but it ALL genres of music. A real monster on the drums!

13. “Brother Mister” by Christian McBride and his band “Inside Straight” from the album “Kind of Brown.” McBride REALLY gets around as a bassist and composer... just scroll through his credits as a sideman on his Wikipedia page! One of the hardest working musicians in ALL of Jazz! His humor and playfulness comes across in both his playing, and his compositions, and "Brother Mister” is a great example of these. “Kind of Brown” is easily my favorite McBride album!

I should also note that McBride’s funny, extrovert personality has turned him into a popular Jazz radio host! You can catch him on Sirius X, NPR and other programs.

14. “Tiffakonkae” by Kamasi Washington. I simply cannot get enough of Kamasi’s music. I find him to be one of THE greatest talents to emerge in Jazz, in it’s entire history. I don’t think that is hyperbole. I was a couple of years late in discovering him, but since the day I heard his first album “The Epic,” he has been on my DAILY listening routine. No kidding.

If you like what you hear in this cut from his 2nd full length album, do yourself a favor and watch/listen to this special on NPR, that will show you some of what I’m talking about. It’s a 2 hour live performance and series of brief interviews with Kamasi and his collaborators, known as “The West Coast Get Down.” It might give you a buzz.

I’ll be featuring Kamasi and company on PLENTY of Jazz Potluck playlists going forward!!!

Here’s Nate Chinen again, from his book “Playing Changes,” talking about Kamasi bursting onto the scene. (Indeed, Chinen opens the first chapter of the book with Kamasi!)

>>>Kamasi Washington stood tall on a lot of big stages during his Year of Ascendance. Swaying in tempo, pushing heavy gusts through his tenor saxophone, he exuded the regal composure of a conquering hero: dauntless, doubtless, ablaze with rugged purpose. His sound on the horn—rangy and intemperate, or clipped and urgent—suggested an almost tactile force, a physical fact. He cut an equally imposing visual presence, in an unkempt Afro, a thick beard, and a dashiki, its patterned fabric loosely draped over his burly frame. And as his band raged around him, the music’s exultant sprawl enacted a ritual of transcendence. It was all rattling and ecstatic, maybe a little mystical. For many who bore witness, it was, brazenly, something to believe in.

15. “Greasy Granny” by the Charlie Hunter Trio. This album was my first introduction to this virtuosic Guitarist, back in 1995. (I seem to be including a number of albums from 1995 in this list... funny coincidence!) Anyway, as you listen to this tune, keep in mind that he is playing bass lines, chords AND melodies, ALL SIMULTANEOUSLY!!! I don’t know how in the hell he does it, but I’ve seen him performing live a few times over the years, and he makes it look effortless!

This song, “Greasy Granny” is as FUN as the name suggests.

16. “Cease the Bombing” by Guitarist Grant Green, from his 1970 album “Carryin’ On.” Figured I’d close out this 1st Episode of the Jazz Potluck with a long and smooth groove. Easy like Sunday morning.........

Stay well, people!

[min-minn]

Symphony - Chapter Six

A03

Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.

And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.

Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital

OR

The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve

Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki

Rating: Teen And Up

Content Warning: Anxiety

A/N: First, can I just say, I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has finally settled down, and you can all thank soft Korean dramas for getting me back in the mood to update. I need my boys like I need air. I need their soft little moments.

A huge thank you to everyone for your patience, your support, your general amazingness. I've said it before and I'll say it again, this fandom is magical. Thank you.

WON'T MAKE ANY PROMISES AGAIN BUT, my dream is to update fortnightly. Fingers crossed I can do it. Stay tuned for more disaster-bi-Min. The only promise I will make is that this fic will be completed before I die. Its become my solemn duty.

Lots of soft-Korean-drama-love,

- Min

Translations:

ミール - (miiru) - literally "Meal"

Yuuri found his voice as they were walking to the bus, managing to disentangle himself from the group and pull Phichit back with him.

“Phichit, please,” he gasped, reaching to grab his friend’s hand and squeeze it desperately. “We need to talk.”

Phichit was still starry eyed, gazing after the group in front of them like he’d just won some kind of lottery. But when he saw Yuuri’s face, flushed and fearful, his eyes grew sombre.

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry,” and his voice was soft. He reached down to hold Yuuri’s other hand, clasping at them, bringing Yuuri close and slowing them down so they could lag behind the rest of the group.

“I know it was wrong of me,” he said, watching the ground as they walked. “I betrayed your trust and it was really stupid but, come on!” and he waved a hand at the group of students, all laughing and singing and jostling each other as they walked. Christophe and Jean-Jaques and Seung-gil and Mila. Names he’d known for years. Names that belonged in Broadway lights and glossy magazine titles.

And somehow, they were one of them.

The main thought going through his mind, despite it all, was how important this was for Phichit. How hard Phichit had worked to get himself into the Institute Band. The countless hours of practice and preparation. This was his dream. It meant everything to him, and Yuuri wanted to fight for it. Wanted to make it a reality and watch his best friend soar.

But for him…

What did he want?

He’d gone along with the original idea because of Phichit. Because Phichit had convinced him that Viktor had wanted him to audition…

Viktor.

As they meandered through the quad, Yuuri caught glimpses of Viktor’s silver hair amongst the crowd. Flashes of his profile, face beaming, smile like the sun…

Try as he might, over the past few weeks, Yuuri just couldn’t get that first practice out of his mind. The way Viktor’s voice had filled every cell in his body and set it alight. The way his own hands had responded, coaxing music from the piano keys like he were penning a new language. A language just for them…

He wanted to speak it again.

“You’re … an asshole,” Yuuri mumbled into his scarf, still watching the crowd and slowly coming to terms with what was really happening. “And this is insane.”

Yet, despite his anger and fear, it was starting to dawn on him. He was in the band. He’d been accepted.

He’d get to perform with Viktor again…

And somehow, even if Viktor was just being kind. Even if he were just taking pity on Yuuri, that was okay. It was okay because it felt good.

“But it’s real, Yuuri!” Phichit squealed in response, shifting to grab a hold of Yuuri’s arm by his side as they walked, skipping slightly to catch up as the group came close to the bus stop. “This is really happening!”

“Yeah,” and Yuuri found himself giggling despite himself. It was insane. It wouldn’t last. But maybe, just for now, he could let himself enjoy it.

“I’m still going to kill you, though,” Yuuri said with a laugh, falling into Phichit’s shoulder to knock him off balance.

The two were laughing heartily by the time they reached the bus stop, Phichit still hanging off Yuuri’s arm. As their bus pulled to a stop, Yuuri felt the back of his neck tingle uncomfortably. He turned and saw their group preparing to board, Viktor standing near the back…

Watching him.

The blush was instant and fierce. Viktor’s eyes were disarming – achingly beautiful pools of blue set in a silver frame – and Yuuri couldn’t help the way his body seemed to respond on its own, heart stuttering, knees growing weak. He swallowed, realising he’d probably been laughing a little too loudly, instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

And he tried not to notice Viktor making his way towards them.

Phichit made a noise at the back of his throat, smirking back at Yuuri as he noticed. “Can’t say no to that, either.”

“Sit next to me, Yuuri!” Viktor suddenly said in a sing-song voice, face breaking into a smile as he took a few steps closer. Yuuri almost stepped back, his throat closing in on itself. Viktor’s voice should be a normal sound, by now. Shouldn’t send thrills through Yuuri’s nerves like he’d just been struck by lightning. Shouldn’t turn his legs to water and close off his throat.

But Viktor was close now and Yuuri couldn’t breathe.

“He’d love to!” Phichit said instead, still tangled on his arm and almost bouncing on the spot with excitement. Yuuri threw him a desperate look, but Phichit only winked.

“I’m going to find that tall, dark, and handsome double bass,” Phichit said, glancing over to where Yuuri could see Christophe boarding the bus. He glanced back and offered a friendly wave to Phichit who all but bounded after him like a puppy. Yuuri could only stare after them as his friend disappeared onto the bus, leaving him alone with Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor, who was still waiting for some kind of reply.

“O—Okay,” Yuuri said lamely, not daring to look Viktor in the eye.

“I have so much I want to ask you,” Viktor said, the smile all too obvious in his voice. “I’m so happy you decided to audition, in the end.”

“Y—Yeah, well,” Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck again, shuffling along next to Viktor as they boarded the bus. “It was all Phichit.”

They paid their fares, flashing their student IDs and making their way onto the bus. The only seats available were at the back, tucked in the corner behind the rest of the group. Yuuri offered a shy wave to a few of the members – Seung-gil, who he was acquainted with from the SIM Orchestra, nodding stoically in response. He could see two younger students – Guang Hong he knew as well, a saxophone major like Phichit, and next to him, another boy who he assumed must be the remaining saxophonist from the case on his lap. They were chattering away as they shared a phone screen, Guang Hong glancing up and smiling as Yuuri passed. He could feel his nerves settle somewhat as he realised that there were at least a few members younger than him – as he realised they weren’t going to try and eat him alive the first chance they got. Maybe he could even make some friends…

“Window or aisle?” Viktor offered as they reached the back of the bus, gesturing to the empty pair of seats. Yuuri swallowed.

“I—I don’t mind,” he whispered, attempting a small smile. Viktor blinked and seemed to be momentarily distracted. Oh. Was that too indecisive? Yuuri chewed on his lower lip as Viktor watched after him intently. Was he having second thoughts? Did he want to sit with Chris instead—?

“Y—You first, then,” Viktor said with a nervous laugh. Nervous? No, it couldn’t be. Yuuri was suddenly reminded of their first practice together – how Viktor had shuffled his feet and stammered his words. He could only put it down to awkwardness. Yes, that had to be it. Yuuri’s complete lack of social skills probably put him off guard. He must be used to people with far more confidence. People who actually knew how to hold conversations and weren’t reduced to a blabbering puddle around his good looks.

Yuuri ducked his head and settled himself in by the window, clutching his satchel in his lap, trying to cover up the obvious holes and tattered material. Viktor sat beside him as the bus began to move and, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.

As the bus rumbled into gear, Yuuri couldn’t help but glance past Viktor to where Phichit was sitting down next to Christophe, already engaged in animated conversations and laughing loudly. Yuuri smiled as he watched – Phichit was obviously smitten. It warmed his heart to see his friend so happy, and Christophe seemed to enjoy the conversation too. Though Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder what his relationship was with Viktor. Surely they were together, after what Yuuri had seen earlier. The chemistry was palpable, even now, Chris glancing Viktor’s way every now and then…

“—together?” a voice cut across his thoughts, coming at him from a distance. He snapped back in his seat, turning to see Viktor looking at him with his brow creased, eyes bright and searching.

“S—Sorry?” Yuuri asked softly, chiding himself.

“Are you and Phichit together?” Viktor asked again, his mouth a thin line.

Yuuri blinked. “What?” And before he could stop himself, another blush bloomed across his cheeks. “Phichit?” and his voice was all but a squeak.

“Yeah,” Viktor glanced away, a smile across his features that seemed strange somehow. Out of place. “You guys seem close,” and the way Viktor’s voice grew soft did strange things to Yuuri’s heartrate.

“Oh, no!” Yuuri threw his hands up, waving them in front of him to try and get his message across. “No! We’re just friends.”

“Oh!” and Yuuri watched on as that strange smile suddenly broke into an honest grin. He couldn’t quite place the difference – they seemed just as bright and warm and Viktor – and yet…

“That’s good,” Viktor said with a huff, seeming to relax. Yuuri’s mind melted into static as he tried to make sense of it all. Good? Why was it good?

“I mean, not good!” Viktor suddenly cried, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward.

“Relationships are good, I mean. Good to have. And Phichit seems like a great guy!” and now it was Viktor’s turn to gesture wildly, hands moving like he’d said something wrong.

Yuuri was sure Viktor was speaking another language.

“H—He is,” Yuuri said quietly, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of what, exactly, Viktor was trying to say. His thoughts quickly turned to Christophe, and it all clicked into place. Of course. Viktor was worried about Phichit. Worried about Phichit and Christophe, seated together, laughing together…

“Christophe seems like a great boyfriend,” Yuuri managed to say, glancing towards the pair and offering a small smile. Saying it out loud seemed to help the strange ache he felt in his chest because of course they were together. How could someone like Viktor Nikiforov be single?

“Oh, Chris is very single,” Viktor said with a laugh, leaning over and waving at Chris. “Aren’t you mon cher?”

Chris glanced up, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I am?”

“Very single,” Viktor said with a wink.

“Oh! Yes,” and Chris smiled, glancing pointedly at Phichit who seemed to melt on queue. Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat.

Chris was single.

“And… you’re single?” Yuuri blurted out, voice quiet, blushing furiously as he heard the words leave his mouth, glancing up at Viktor through strands of hair that had an annoying habit of falling across his eyes.

Viktor made a strange noise – something between a groan and a whimper. A laugh? What was it? But Yuuri could hardly follow the thought through, because Viktor was looking back at him with such a strange expression on his face that had him holding his breath…

Almost like … excitement.

“Yes!” he said, a little too enthusiastically, flashing a bright smile that made Yuuri feel like he were in the middle of summer rather than bundled up for winter as he was now.

Single.

Viktor was single.

“Very single!” Chris chimed in from across the aisle, giggling a little like it were some kind of inside joke. “Getting him to the clubs is like pulling teeth.”

“Chris!” Viktor cried, scrambling in his seat. The other man just laughed, Phichit giggling along with him. Even Yuuri had to stifle a laugh that suddenly threatened to bubble out of his throat.

“Ignore him,” Viktor said with a sigh, offering Yuuri a weak smile as he relaxed back into his seat. Yuuri could see the beginnings of a pink flush across Viktor’s cheeks and oh. Oh.

Viktor was embarrassed?

Yuuri felt like his world was falling off its axel.

He decided to very pointedly keep his gaze straight ahead, far too enraptured by the way the soft colour of Viktor’s cheeks had set his heart racing. The awkwardness of the whole conversation was catching up with him. Why had he even asked that—?

“I’m not actually sure where we’re going,” Viktor said after a beat, one finger on his lips as he suddenly grew pensive. “I’m meant to be deciding, but I hardly go out for dinner…”

Yuuri furrowed his brow. “You don’t?”

Viktor smiled softly at him, “No, I rarely get the chance. Between the NYCO and SIM, my nights are usually booked.” He was staring ahead in a distant way, and Yuuri found himself imagining Viktor, at rehearsals or practicing, coming home late and getting straight into bed. It was an image he couldn’t seem to make peace with – so contrary to what he’d imagined previously. From Viktor’s outgoing nature, Yuuri had always assumed he’d be quite social outside of school.

Perhaps he’d had it wrong all along?

“What about you, Yuuri?” Viktor asked suddenly, eyes growing bright. “Do you know somewhere we could go?”

“M—Me?” Yuuri squeaked, blanching at the suddenness of the question. Viktor was asking him?

“I’m not…” he desperately tried to sift through his scrambled mind, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten out.

“T—There is a nice place … near here,” Yuuri managed, fidgeting with the satchel in his lap as he glanced out the window at the city passing by. “ミール it’s called.”

Viktor blinked at him, cocking his head ever so slightly. “Mi…du?”

Yuuri ducked his head to hide the instinctive smile, “Oh, it’s Japanese,” he said softly. “It means ‘Meal,’ but it’s the Japanese way of saying it.”

Viktor was still staring at him, eyes wide. “Midu,” he tried again, and Yuuri felt his heart race dangerously close to some sort of cardiac arrest. The way the syllables rolled off Viktor’s tongue, adorably awkward around his accent… it was enough to make Yuuri weak.

“C--Close enough,” he said with a small chuckle, feeling that same smile tug his lips. Viktor was still staring at him, the blush from earlier still apparent across his cheeks.

“You’re Japanese,” Viktor stated simply.

“Yes,” Yuuri said slowly, attempting to tuck some of his unruly hair behind his ear. “I moved here just under four years ago.”

“Let’s go to Midu then!” Viktor said suddenly, and before Yuuri could stop him, he was jumping up in his seat and calling out across the bus. “JJ! We’re going to Midu!”

Jean-Jaques – who Yuuri realised must be called JJ amongst friends – turned towards them, seated a few rows in front with a phone pressed to his ear. He glanced back toward Viktor with a confused expression, giving him a slow thumbs up before turning back to his call.

“What a relief,” Viktor said with a sigh, sitting back down heavily. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find us a decent place.”

Yuuri felt a familiar spike of fear in his chest. “A—Are you sure?” Yuuri asked, voice breaking in his panic. “It’s just a local yakitori bar. Nothing special.”

“If it’s a place you go to, Yuuri, I’m sure its great,” and Viktor’s smile was soft. Achingly soft. Yuuri was glad he was sitting down.

“Let’s look at the menu!” Viktor suddenly said with all the excitement of a child, whipping out his phone and opening up the browser in one swift movement. Yuuri leaned in instinctively, catching a whiff of Viktor’s cologne as he drew unknowingly closer to his neck. It was intoxicating, and Yuuri wondered absently that it must be expensive.

“That’s the one,” he said, pointing at the screen as Viktor scrolled through his search. Viktor opened it quickly, fingers pausing over the screen as he took in the restaurant’s website.

“Ah, which one’s the menu button?” Viktor asked as the wall of Japanese loaded under his fingers. Yuuri scanned it and pointed to one of the buttons, but rather than follow his instruction, Viktor just handed his phone over instead, their shoulders brushing together as he leant closer.

Yuuri wasn’t expecting the touch to affect him so thoroughly, but he suddenly found it quite hard to breathe as a strange current of soft electricity shot through his veins.

Around the furious beating of his pulse in his ears, Yuuri managed to grip the phone with two shaky hands, focussing on scrolling through to the menu to keep his mind from unravelling entirely. The smell of Viktor’s cologne was heavy now, and Yuuri could feel the warmth of Viktor’s arm through his sleeve like a furnace. And Yuuri realised, with a strange blooming warmth in his chest, that Viktor didn’t pull away, either. If anything, it felt like he was pressing even closer, though Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was Viktor’s own movements or just the sway of the bus beneath them.

All the same, it sent shivers straight through his chest and directly into his abdomen, and he was sure his blush would be embarrassingly apparent by now from the way his ears were burning,

Luckily, Viktor didn’t seem to notice, more focussed on the screen as Yuuri slowly scrolled through some of the images. He saw a familiar photo of a bowl of katsudon and paused.

“This one’s my favourite,” he said softly, voice weak.

“Will you order it?” Viktor asked, his pitch rising as his eyes sparkled. Without missing a beat, he leant in slightly closer and added, “Could I try some if you do?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose ever so slightly as he jerked his head in surprise. Viktor wanted to … try some? From his plate? He tried to stay present but felt his mind reel with possibilities. Viktor eating from his plate. Reaching over to take a bite off of Yuuri’s chopsticks…

Viktor’s own eyes grew wide and he suddenly pulled away ever so slightly, the shift snapping Yuuri back to reality.

“Or,” Viktor said slowly, clearing his throat and glancing back down at the screen, the excitement slightly dampened. “Actually, I’ll just get one of my own.”

Yuuri felt all the air leave his lungs.

Where he was teetering on the edge of hopeful before, now he was mired in despair. Because of course. Of course Viktor wouldn’t want to share with him. That would be strange. He probably hated the idea. Had probably said it because he’d forgotten who he was actually talking to…

“Is there anything else you like?” Viktor’s voice, soft and careful, cut across Yuuri’s thoughts. Yuuri realised he was still holding Viktor’s phone, leaning away as he unconsciously tucked his head into his scarf. Without meeting Viktor’s gaze, Yuuri moved to hand the phone back to Viktor, desperately trying to think of how to salvage the awkward social situation.

But instead of take the phone back, Viktor just leant in again, pressing against Yuuri’s shoulder once more as he watched the screen.

“This one?” Viktor asked, gesturing to the next item on the menu; okonomiyaki.

“That one’s quite nice, too,” Yuuri found himself answering shyly despite himself. Viktor didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness in Yuuri’s tone, however. Instead, his eyes lit up as he took in the image, casually zooming in, fingers spreading across the screen and Yuuri found he couldn’t help how his eyes followed the movement.

As a pianist, Yuuri was naturally drawn to fingers. Found himself calculating if people could reach a full octave or not. Wondering how they’d hold up performing glissandos…

Now, all Yuuri could think of was what Viktor’s fingers would feel like.

Because even in simple gestures, Viktor’s fingers were mesmerising. Like every touch were important – deserving of some sort of special care. Yuuri had had enough experience with performers to understand they were slightly different to most. Understand how much their profession permeated every aspect of their lives. Yet he realised, with a strange surge of awe and soft surprise, that Viktor lived his performance. Every gesture, the tone of his voice, the set of his lips, it commanded attention. Spoke of a deep sense of knowing. Knowing others were watching him. Self-aware…

As entranced as Yuuri was, the new knowledge suddenly made him feel incredibly distant, somehow. As if the chasm he’d imagined between who Viktor was and who he was had suddenly widened tenfold.

“What is it, exactly?” Viktor asked, brow furrowing, and even that simple expression had Yuuri reeling. It took Yuuri a moment to realise Viktor was referring to the menu.

“I—It’s … a sort of pancake,” he fumbled for his words, earlier thoughts scattering to the back of his mind. “Savoury.”

“Interesting,” Viktor said with a soft smile. “We’ll have to get one of those, too.”

They continued like that for a while, scrolling through the menu, Yuuri explaining the different food and drink softly as Viktor kept track of what he wanted to order. And Yuuri wasn’t too sure how he felt about it. It was almost too easy, the way the conversation flowed and ebbed. Far easier than any conversation he’d had before, despite how hard his heart was trying to tear itself out of his chest. And as they talked, it didn’t take long for Viktor to laugh, though Yuuri couldn’t remember what he’d said to illicit such a response. Such a melodious, beautiful response.

He decided making Viktor laugh was easily the best thing in the world.

And Yuuri found, with a small jolt of surprise, that he was soon laughing too. Really laughing. Gasping for air and snorting because Viktor was still trying to pronounce Japanese words and it was too much.

As he wiped tears from the corner of his eyes, Viktor smiling at him in such an attentive way that Yuuri couldn’t help but stare back, Phichit suddenly called out from across the aisle.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that in ages,” and Yuuri tore his eyes from Viktor’s to give Phichit a decidedly threatening glare.

“Oh?” Viktor asked next to him, eyes still trained on Yuuri’s face. “Is that so?”

“D—Don’t mind him,” Yuuri shuffled back into his seat, tucking his face into his scarf. He decided the blush across his features was more or less permanent, now, though the instinct to hide it was still very strong.

How he’d survive the rest of the night, he had no clue.

And all too soon, they were rounding a familiar corner, coming to the block where the yakitori bar was. Yuuri reached to press the button that would signal the driver to stop, careful not to touch Viktor as he did so. Viktor was glancing out the window, eyes searching.

“We’re close?” he asked, furrowing his brow at the shops and apartments around them.

“It’s not all that well known,” Yuuri said sheepishly, wondering for the millionth time if he’d made the right choice. “We can still go somewhere else if you’d—”

“No!” Viktor cried suddenly, the fringe of his hair drifting across his eyes as he jerked himself back into his seat, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean—”

And Yuuri felt the laugh simmer in his throat, escaping as a giggle he couldn’t control. He wondered if he’d ever get used to how excitable Viktor was. How charming...

“It’s okay,” Yuuri smiled softly at him, and as all the panic and doubt and sense of inferiority threatened to cloud his thoughts, Yuuri realised it really had been a long time since he’d laughed like this. Smiled like this. Since he’d felt so at ease.

And as the bus came to a stop and the group began disembarking, Yuuri found the prospect of a night with Viktor to be all too inviting, after all.

[tevotbegotnaught]

“The conductor…in the power he has over others…it is in his interest as a human being, as well as that of his musical achievements, to resist the temptation to misuse it. Tyranny can never bring to fruition artistic-or for that matter human- gifts; subordination under a despot does not make for joy in one’s music-making. Intimidation deprives the musician of the full enjoyment of his talent and proficiency. Yet I should certainly not want to impugn the employment of earnest severity or even the occasional borrowing of the Bolt of Zeus; the latter if the hand knows how to wield it, can in exceptional situations bring surprisingly good results. Severity is a legitimate even indispensable means of dealing with people...”

Bruno Walter

In my Summer of 42 (years), I was a college freshman…again. With neither Mexican weed nor dormitory hijinks to distract me, I worked through the full Brooklyn College Core Curriculum and a handful of music courses. My degree plan also required an ensemble each semester. When the Assistant Dean interviewed me, he looked over my CV and immediately suggested their Jazz Band. After hearing them, I chose a contemporary music ensemble founded by a composition professor. Fall semester, she was on sabbatical and a trumpet prof, Juilliard guy and veteran freelancer, ran the class. To begin, he sat everyone in a circle and asked us to play “Happy Birthday" in hocket. Most of the class was unsure of the melody and some also thought it a stupid idea. With our nonstandard instrumentation, we massacred Second Viennese School composers for the rest of the term.

Spring term, the founder returned. She was just over five feet tall, brown-skinned, with narrow shoulders and mineshaft dark eyes. When she listened, her head nodded while bottomless eyes fixed on you. Raised in a distressed country, her life moved from prodigy to conservatory-trained professional with impeccable musicianship: piano, score reading, solfege, conducting, improvising, composing. Then, she came to the US, with zero money and English and rebuilt her career from scratch. At BC, she conducted the orchestra until politics pushed her out. Now, she gave composition lessons and led this ensemble.

Our roster still read as spare parts: three singers, three pianists, two flutes, violin, saxophone, clarinet, guitar; some highly skilled, others not. For most, English was a second or even third language. Our professor's first assignment: list your colleagues’ instruments, find pieces for a subset of our forces, select only pieces written after 1960, bring scores/parts for audition.

The following week, we presented our finds. First, someone showed her a John Cage duet. As she turned pages, Maestra’s face went blank .

“Why did you get this?”

A mumbled answer.

Maestra closed the score. “You got eet because eet looks easy. Didn't you? First of all, it’s a short duet. Three, maybe four minutes of music. Nothing to do on a real pro-GRAM. Not serious. Not serious at all.”

More mumbling.

“Get something else. Thank you.”

She jabbed the score into their hands, then addressed the class.

“Nothing about John Cage. John is extraordinary. When you choose music, don’t just take a name you theenk you know. Read the score. You are musicians …supposed to be….”

Next, one of the singers produced a folio. Its font, ornate and oversized. I winced. Maestra saw it was a Puccini aria with piano accompaniment and recoiled.

“After nineteen-sixty? Thees? You are kidding me!”

Again, she faced us.

“Thees is NOT opera work-SHOP. I know some of you did not make it there. I'm very sorry about that. Please find some other music to sing. There are so many good theengs. I hope you will find out. Music does not end with Verdi, Puccini.”

So it went. Gratefully, she anticipated our poor choices and suggested some pieces.

Meastra spoke Spanish to some students, aware of the terrain they navigated and supportive. Jorge, a Mexican pianist, was one of her projects. He was a skilled player, an enthusiastic and warm colleague. His giggle often broke up the class. In our third meeting, we rolled the piano front, Jorge sat on the bench. While he longed for mama's home cooking, he wasn’t missing any meals in Brooklyn. His midsection expanded well beyond his tight-waisted pants, straining shirt buttons. Maestra questioned him on preparation: “you’re playing the second movement, what about the third?”

Unaffected by the prodding, he began to play. A minute in, she said, “stop”.

He continued, eyes closed.

She shouted, “Stop! I’m telling you, STOP"

He looked over.

“JORGE….WHAT…ARE…YOU….DOING?”

It wasn’t meant as a question. Jorge smiled and gently shook his head.

“Why are you smiling? Look at you!”

Her voice leveled.

“This is not ready. It’s better, but it's not ready.”

She shifted.

“I am very worried about you. Look..at…your…STOMACH. You need to take better care of yourself. You know, pianists perform in pro-FILE. Theenk what you show to the audience.”

Jorge wasn't smiling. He put his hand on his belly.

“Everyone should con-see-der an exer-CISE pro-GRAM. I am forty years, Dio mio! Almost FEEFTY years older than some of you. Take care of yourselves.”

She dismissed him with a sweeping gesture.

“Ok, who is next? Anna, where is the list? Geeve it to me!”

Her assistant, a brilliant, tiny, Yankee grad student, always cleaned up.

Maestra partnered Jorge with another pianist for a Gyorgy Ligeti duo. Its ingenious architecture, a complex cycle revealed one beat at a time. In Yogi Berra's construction, half the score was ninety-nine percent rests. The players needed infallible inner time. While they played, Maestra leaned over the piano, right hand supporting her, left turning pages. She nodded her head slightly in tempo. The pianist's hits charged toward and away from each other like Pacman's gobbling goblins.

“You are late!” she slammed her left hand down. They went back. Another hammer blow. Back again. The piece never made it to the program.

At the end of the initial class, she approached me about Milhaud's “Le Creation du Monde", a chamber work for winds, including alto saxophone. We didn’t have the other winds, of course, but a young woodwind quintet, in residence for the year, would help out.

“Le Creation" story moves from brooding chorale to a raggy bolero where the winds pass around jumpy tunes, then strut them all, polyphonically, in a joyous finale.

At the first of four rehearsals, we were less than half personnel. Maestra had been enthusiastic about the quintet, encouraging us to meet, hear and study with them. But they were collaborating with major artists and appearing all over the world. Their residency, now in name only. No one in the group even bothered to return her emails. Our conductor was livid. (Later, the assistant assured us that Maestra never returned emails, either.) In rehearsal, the music just marked time. In long stretches with no tune and no landmarks, I fell into a hole and missed my entrance.

“What are you DOING! Counting! Count-ting! I can’t do everytheeng for you.”

Concert day was the first we all sat down to play. In the midst of my disciplined colleagues, I was a bellowing hippo. During the chorale, my slow descending notes were either out-of-tune, out-of-time, the wrong dynamic, or all three.

The baton came down hard “NO..NO..NO. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

“How can you be late. It's jazz. Jazz! You play jazz? Right? You know who is John Col-TRANE? Play it like Col-TRANE! Why should I have to tell YOU this. Come on!”

I wore other hats that night: soprano, clarinet. Still, my mind remained fogged through the Milhaud finale.

The quintet players all demolished their solos. With a huge smile, Maestra gave each well-deserved bows. When they were done, she flashed her eyes at me, scowling. Then, jerked both her hands upwards, like she was flipping a pool toy. I stood up and stared straight down.

Next semester, a composition student brought a score. It was mostly squiggles and arrows, notation designed to move the music forward without defining functional harmony or conventional melody. She conducted a circle for each “bar”. We could gauge the length of each gesture and respond in time. Simultaneously, she sang the gestures using their pitched start/end points, conducted, turned pages and offered substantive commentary. If one of us was even a second late, her glance immolated them.

I became friends with some of her students. Waiting outside her office, they often heard shouting. When the door opened, students walked out in tears. Some planned to work closely with Maestra toward their Master's or DMA. Those plans would change...

An alumni couple created an endowed chair for Maestra, protecting her from political games. To celebrate, students accompanied her to the donors’ Connecticut home for a musicale. We loaded two vans with the usual music school suspects: waifish Asian virtuoso string players, an Eastern European sturm und drang pianist, a diffident “difficult” composer, and bit players like me.

Both donors were in their eighties and fabulously rich, earnest, lefty intellectuals. The wife wore a gas mask-like apparatus, its hoses attached to a whirring box on her back. I strained to understand her speech, but her eyes shone with love and curiosity. The couple warmly welcomed us to a large room packed with guests.

I was part of a quartet: oboe, flute, clarinet and piano, playing a student work. The composer, a young Dominican guy, rising star in the program. A Caribbean undergraduate writing skilled takes on contemporary European music. His piece used the difference-tone clusters of Gyorgy Ligeti: loud, high notes, staggered and longheld, producing acoustic anomalies: window-fan undertones and piercing oscillations. Bathing in timbral waves and madly counting beats, I couldn’t find the piano part, though we made it to the end without requiring oxygen or a conductor. The composer took a awkward bow and disappeared.

With Maestra as Maitre’d we served up a baroque cello sonata, Beethoven piano music and some Sondheim. Then, our little foursome loudly dropped a turd on the buffet table.

The donor husband was one of those ruddy-faced white guys who wear baggy corduroys and turtle necks over their barrel physiques. He sought me out, towering above me as I packed up my clarinet.

“What did he mean with that piece?"

“Sir, I…I wouldn’t want to represent the composer, he never said anything about..”

“Now, you must know something.”

He was an important man accustomed to getting answers, fast and in full.

“I know my part and how it fits with the others. The woodwinds are playing difference tones, Stravinsky used...”

“Why didn’t HE explain that to us? We go to concerts all the time. Conductors explain new music. They give examples, give context. You can’t just write something like that and expect people to automatically understand it.”

Gulp....“Of course.”

“It’s his responsibility to help the audience understand the music”

I looked over. By the buffet, the composer was holding a plate, one of the string players laughing next to him. Mrs Donor approached me, extending her hand. The box on her back hissed and clicked. Above the mask, searching eyes, below, a voice from a radio in another room. Was she talking about the quartet? It was too uncomfortable. I interrupted.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality and the opportunity to play for you. You and your husband are so generous.”

She squeezed my hand and leaned in, radio transmission drowning in static. Her husband came to her side.

“My wife is saying we've been to many, many concerts of new music. Starting way back, with Lenny Bernstein. He taught us there’s always something to learn. He introduced us to many extraordinary artists”

He put his hand lightly on her back. Over her shoulder, Maestra was listening to a guest, head level with their sternum, eyes searchlights in reverse. The radio faded and its whirring submerged in the din.

We got back very late. Our vans parked by the gatehouse and turnstile on the east side of campus. A few yellow lights glowed in the music building. Maestra thanked us. We said goodnight.

Drifting on an acoustic sea, our ancestors explored sound, harnessing the waves. Between foaming peaks and psychic undertow, they found power. From our African beginnings, to the stars, every lineage counted on those who navigated, who mastered instruments, who carried in them songs and stories. They became the music, while it lasted.

[chromium-siren]

Prompt- Modern AU where Hux is a struggling Jazz musician and Phasma's like this famous singer and she's trying to find some peace in a low-key bar where Hux is playing and she sees his talent. Phasma talks to him and he kinda freaks out cause oh my god this is the Phasma and she wants to perform with him and they just fall in love as Phasma helps Hux rise to fame. Bonus- Rey and Kylo play with Hux and bet with each other how long until these two realize that they're madly in love.

Hux figured he was nothing special- anyone who wanted to be in the jazz scene could pick up a saxophone, play a couple of standards, and get a gig at a bar or two (ironically, that was what he did). But he always had this dream of making it to the big leagues, to play at Montreux, to have a band of his own and lead it, heck, maybe he could sing with Phasma, a supremely beautiful jazz singer who was world renowned... but for now, that would be put on hold. His current band, the First Order Quartet was playing a puny bar known as the Finalizer. The gigs he wanted to play, big clubs like The Fulminatrix Ballroom, The Dreadnought, and the Holy Grail- Starkiller Lounge, were only small wisps in his mind, as he stepped onstage, ready to perform. Phasma hurried through the streets of New York, exhausted from her performance at Carnegie Hall. All she wanted was to unwind and not to have people chasing after her, begging for autographs and selfies. Quickly, she ducked into a tiny bar with a neon sign that blared out "The Finalizer- Live Jazz," still keeping her scarf and sunglasses on as she sat at the bar. Meanwhile, onstage, Hux nodded at Rey, the band's drummer, to start the beat. She played the rhythm for "Take Five," then Mitaka, the band's pianist followed. Kylo chimed in on his bass, and finally, Hux played. His alto sax sounded clear across the bar, captivating the patrons- especially the mysterious woman who sat at the bar, who wore a scarf and sunglasses like a Hollywood diva. Phasma always liked listening to live jazz, especially when it came from other musicians or singers- she could hear other people's takes on songs she might have or might not have done. She also used this as an opportunity to find some new talent, someone to bring into the big leagues- so far, no one impressed her. Until she heard Hux play, that is. He was slender, looking dapper in a simple black blazer over a striped shirt, red hair touseled just so, full lips cradling the mouthpiece of the saxophone, eyes closed serenely as he played... he was handsome, obviously, but the way he played was simply sublime. It was as if the audience was under his spell with every note he played, hypnotized in a sort of trance. Phasma was freed from the trance by the sounds of snaps and applause from the audience. Hux took a triumphant bow, and picked up a tenor saxophone, clipping the horn to a neck strap. "I composed this piece myself, I call it 'Chanson du sirène,' and I hope you enjoy," he said, to applause. Kylo opened with his bass, Rey used the brushes rather than the usual sticks, and Mitaka's piano was soulful and longing. Then at last, came the tenor saxophone, soft and whispery, but becoming powerful as the song progressed- like Phasma's voice. More songs were played, and Hux took a break for a while, stopping over at the bar for a drink. "You play beautifully," she said, a hand going up to her scarf. "Why thank you," he replied, taking a sip from his whiskey. "I've been playing saxophone since I was nine- was a bit of a musical prodigy," he added with a sheepish blush. "But I'm pretty sure that I won't make it to Montreux. I'd be like everyone else." "You know, if you played for me, you would be able to go there, and several other places. Oh, but first, let me introduce myself," she said, finally lowering the scarf and glasses. Hux gasped- as did the bartender. He was speaking to Phasma- possibly one of the most famous jazz singers he's heard of! "Miss Phasma, I'm so sorry.""Don't be sorry. I heard your compositions this evening, and I think you have a lot of talent. I'm a lyricist, and we could maybe write a song together?" she asked. Hux's mind was racing- Phasma had spoken to HIM. She wanted to WRITE A SONG with him. Obviously, he had to say yes! "I'd love to!" he said, a broad smile spreading on his face. She digged a notepad out of her purse and wrote her number on it, handing it to him. "Fabulous! You can get in touch with me whenever you want to," she said, as Mitaka called Hux over to the stage. "I have to get back onstage," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "But I can't wait to work together." "Likewise," she replied with a smile. "Enjoy playing." Rey sat at the drums and looked over at Kylo with a smirk. "She was totally flirting with him," she said, with a satisfied grin. "How much do you wanna bet it's a year until they realize they're in love?" "A year? Please, I'd give it four months tops." "You're really rushing it, are you? Then I'll say eight months- just in time for Montreux." "Winner gets to take the other out for lunch," Kylo said, picking up the bass. "Deal." In the end, Rey was right- eight months passed, and Hux was already a member of Phasma's band (Rey was drumming in pit orchestras on Broadway, Kylo and Mitaka were studio musicians), waiting to make his debut at Montreux. "So, Phasma, what was it that attracted you to me?" Hux asked, adjusting the neck strap to his tenor as Phasma put on a necklace and smoothed out her dress. "Well, I could say the obvious- your looks, but it was mainly because of your talent, Hux. I've heard tons of boys play the saxophone. They either do too much or put in little effort. You, on the other hand, have heart and soul, and make it sound good. I mean, it certainly doesn't hurt that you're handsome and sweet," she said, putting on some lipstick. "Really? Then, Phasma... thank you for taking a chance on me out of all the other guys who could've been in my place," he said, going up to her. "I- I love you," he mumbled, looking at the floor awkwardly. "Come again?" "I love you," he said, walking forward slightly. Phasma gasped, but then leaned forward a bit, close to Hux's lips. Slowly but surely, their lips came together, and they kissed sweetly. There was a certain stillness in the air, an ethereal beauty almost, that lingered even as the voice of the emcee welcomed them to the stage, and in every note for every song, giving the music a beautiful sound, a perfect harmony.

[galren]

Anfor

Aruk went to a music conservatory for a year when he was a teenager. It was everything he wanted, but also a number of things he didn’t want on top of it.

“You’re late again. We go over this every other week, Aruk. And you smell terrible.”

Three months had passed in the time since Aruk left his family in Yosem to study piano performance at Anfor Conservatory of Music, and though he put his heart and soul into his studies and practice, Aruk had not fully adapted to university life.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was upstairs in a practice room. I’m trying my best, I promise, I just—”

“Fell asleep on the keys again?”

It was the fourth time in as many weeks. As the semester progressed, the practice rooms became less available, and for shorter amounts of time, to a point where Aruk had made it a habit of going to the music building in the middle of the night in order to get his daily practice in. Though he was a night owl in his own ways, Aruk would regularly spend upward of five hours playing the piano only to pass out on they keys just before sunrise.

“...Yes.”

Despite being a solid foot and a half taller than Branford, the elven piano professor, Aruk felt his head recoiling into his own shoulders in shame.

“Well, I can’t stay that I’m terribly upset about it, I suppose,” Branford replied. “You put more practice time in than any of the rest of my students, and it shows, even with those massive hands of yours. Just be sure you get back to your dorm and shower soon, for your own sake. And wash your clothes while you’re at it, I could smell you as you walked in here.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t...have money for detergent,” Aruk finally admitted. “I’ve tried washing my clothes in the sink at my dorm, but it’s not the greatest.”

“Aren’t you on a full scholarship? Where’s all of your money gone to?”

“The scholarship only covers tuition and housing. I don’t really have anything else, outside of a tiny bit of money for food that my parents sent me, but that’s just so I don’t go more than a few days at a time without eating.”

“Uh...well. Right then. Let’s...let’s get to the Ravel, shall we?”

“Sure.”

It was the first time Branford had asked him about his personal life, and Aruk inwardly hoped it would be the last. He’d been working on the last movement of Ravel’s piano concerto for the duration of the semester, and while he did keep falling asleep in practice rooms, Aruk had made noticeable strides toward perfecting it, outside of a few passages that needed tightening up.

“Well, I think you know what parts you need to work on without me saying, if I’m being honest, Aruk. Work on tightening up the middle section more. I know that’s easier said than done, but that’s what happens when you have to do a condensed version, since you’re not playing it with an orchestra behind you.”

“Ah, yeah...it’s getting there, though?”

“It is, and having said that, I do think that you ought to audition to play it with the orchestra next semester. It would be a good experience for you to do that.”

“Er, well...Edgar is the orchestra pianist, isn’t he?”

“He is right now, but it would still be worth your time to audition, even if you don’t get in.”

“Well, I’ll think about it, I guess. Oh, and uh...next lesson, can I get your help with some of the stuff we’re working on for jazz quartet? There are a few passages that feel weird under my fingers even after practicing them.”

“That’s fine, though as you know my focus is primarily on music from times before jazz, so I don’t know how much I can help you stylistically. Now, I do need you to head out, Edgar has his lesson right now.”

“I understand. See you next week.”

Aruk stepped out of the small office and felt his heart leap into his throat as he rounded the corner ran headlong into Edgar Sherborne, who seemed to be pacing the hallway impatiently. Despite the resting scowl on Edgar’s face, Aruk beamed down at him, his right hand scratching at his left arm subconsciously.

“Oh, hello Edgar! Sorry for holding up your lesson. I heard you practicing yesterday afternoon, the Rachmaninoff sounds very good! I’m sure it’ll be even better by the time you go on for your recital.”

The third-year human was considered to be a prodigy and the best pianist at Anfor, training under famous musician after famous musician before arriving at the conservatory. Edgar, for his part, knew what people said of his skills and reveled in it.

“Yes, it will be flawless by then, that’s a given, Aruk. It sounds like the Ravel is coming along for you as well. Auditions for next semester of orchestra are coming up, by the way. Do you intend on trying to audition to play the Ravel with the orchestra?”

“Er...I hadn’t really given it any thought. Branford just mentioned it to me a minute ago, actually, but I assumed that—”

“That I’ll be doing the Rachmaninoff with the orchestra? I assumed as much as well. Of course, I didn’t expect anyone to challenge my spot in the first place, but given that you’re the number two pianist here, I wanted to know if it was something you were doing, especially since you’re playing an orchestra piece for your jury as well.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t really planned to audition, I’ve got the jazz quartet and big band for my ensemble credits this year,” Aruk said. He was vaguely aware of the fact his heart was beginning to race. “I’ll be sure to be there if you perform with the orchestra though! It would be fun to do a double concerto with you, too. Also, if you need a page turner for the concert—”

Aruk stopped talking as the office door closed, when he realized Edgar had walked away for his lesson. Taking a breath to steady his heart, Aruk walked down the hall to head for the small classroom where his jazz quartet met.

“Oh hey, Aruk. Didn’t think you’d actually make it on time, considering how hard you were sleeping in the practice room upstairs this morning.”

The drummer, Norgren, was a stout dwarf who at times could barely reach the kick drum pedal. Nonetheless, he was a skilled drummer, and was one of the more amicable students at the conservatory.

“You coulda woken me up, you know. I was a little late to my piano lesson, but I’m awake now. I’ll be fine for rehearsal.” Aruk sat down at the piano in the corner of the practice room as Norgren set up his drum kit.

“I can’t even see through the practice room windows to know who’s in there at my height, Aruk. Figured it was you though, considering it sounded like snoring. Either way, it’s not my job to keep you on time for things. You’re an adult, do it yourself.”

“That’s…” Aruk began, then stopped with a sigh. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“No big. You should probably wash your clothes too. Out of detergent again or something?”

Again, Aruk felt himself recoiling into his shoulders, even though he towered over the dwarf. “Yeah. I just...I washed some of my clothes by hand last night, but they were still drying when I came here to practice, and I haven’t gone back to my dorm yet.”

Before Norgren could say anything else, Aruk quickly asked, “We’re working on Monk’s Dream today, right? Or did we need to go over Blue Rondo as well?”

Norgren sighed and ran a palm over his face. “It really depends on Alric. I don’t think we need to do Blue Rondo, you have it down just fine and you know that Barrett and I have it covered on the rhythm section, it’s just…”

“He’s pretty inconsistent, yeah,” Aruk said quietly. “When he’s feeling it, he’s right there and it sounds great—”

“But when he’s having an off day, it’s like every note he plays is coming out of a broken oboe instead of a saxophone,” Norgren finished. “Sometimes I really wonder how he got into this place, but I guess his good days make up for his bad ones.”

“Are we talking about Alric?” Barrett asked as he entered the room. The bassist for the quartet, Barrett stood a foot shorter than Aruk, but, like Norgren, the human was more welcoming than most of the people at Anfor. “Because I heard one of his relatives works in the registrar and that’s how he got in here.”

“What, you mean to tell me people get into Anfor because their families have influence? I’m shocked,” Norgren said with a laugh. “At least in my case I know I got in here because I’m good, even if my family does have money.”

“Well, yeah, the only person here who got in solely on their ability to play is Aruk,” Barrett replied. “Even if Edgar is good, his parents are music history teachers here and his aunt works in the registrar, so I’m sure all Edgar had to do was look in the direction of the conservatory doors and the admissions office mailed him an acceptance letter on sight.”

Aruk said nothing, but sat down at the piano, green face flushed with embarrassment.

“I can’t imagine though. How’d you make it through an audition process that long, Aruk? I’d have been dead tired after 6 or 7 hours, but I heard it went for 12 hours on that one day,” Norgren said.

“Er, well...truth be told I didn’t have to do that much,” Aruk said. “I auditioned early in the morning, and then they sent me to a side room to wait for several hours before they called me in and asked me to play again. So, I had plenty of time to rest and eat and go to the bathroom and all that. Then they had three of us in the recital hall on different pianos all at once and they made us perform the audition excerpts from memory in front of people. That was the stressful part, really.”

“Sounds it,” Norgren said. “Still, glad we got you and not just another stuffy classical pianist who needed course credits. Three years at this place and you’re the only one so far who actually wanted to do jazz band instead of being coerced into it.”

“Why’s that?” Aruk asked. “Jazz is fun.”

“Everyone wants to be the concert pianist with the orchestra, but only one person gets the spot, you know,” Barrett said. “So, basically everyone who’s not Edgar gets the shaft, but they still need ensemble credits to graduate, so we get stuck with them.”

“Speaking of that, you gonna audition for it, Aruk?” Norgren asked. “I bet you could get it, if you wanted to.”

“Think so? I kinda figured Edgar would get it whether or not anyone else auditioned. He is really good, after all,” Aruk said. His mind wandered to Edgar and immediately he could feel his heart start to race. “I don’t know if I could outplay him.”

“You could, for sure,” Norgren replied. With a laugh, he added, “That’d suck for us if you got it, though, then we might end up stuck with him as our pianist again, and he hates jazz. Still, I think you oughta give it a try. If nothing else, you might shake him up a bit if he thinks he’s got competition.”

“Well, we’ll see—”

“Hey, sorry I’m late, music history went over again,” Alric said as he walked into the room, unceremoniously setting his two saxophone cases on desks and flipping them open. The elf looked tired and harried, and he shuffled through spare sheet music stuffed inside one of the saxophone cases before pulling out the tenor sax.

“Sounds like Sherborne. You can see where Edgar gets it from,” Barrett said.

“Yeah, their time is important, yours not so much,” Norgren grumbled. “Getting office hours with him was almost impossible when I took his class last year. Anyway, let’s get this ball rolling. Alric, you good for Monk’s Dream, or do we need to go back to Blue Rondo?”

Alric shook his head. “After that class, I need to not be stressed right away. Let’s do Monk’s Dream first, it’s easier for me.”

“You got it,” Norgren said. “Aruk, whenever you’re ready.”

Aruk nodded and started playing, falling into a comfortable groove within a few measures. While he enjoyed the challenge of concert music, jazz quartet and big band rehearsals always put his mind at ease, and after the rehearsal ended he headed back to his dorm feeling less stressed about the rest of how he was handling his first year at Anfor.

When he reached his dorm, he was relieved to find the clothes he’d washed still hanging by the windowsill, completely dry and substantially less smelly than the clothes he’d already worn.

“This place is a bit of a mess,” he muttered to himself as he looked around the room.

He shared the room with a human violinist, but the last time he’d seen his roommate was early on in the semester. Aruk tended to be out all night at the music building, and his roommate was an early morning sort of person, so the only potential overlap they ever encountered was in the afternoon. There were clothes strewn all over the floor, and trash was left on nearly every flat surface that wasn’t one of the two beds in the room.

The room also had a lingering smell of stale weed to it, but Aruk took responsibility for that one, as he’d come to make a habit of smoking in the early afternoon while his roommate was out. Aruk may not have had much by way of money, but being that he was an outlander, he knew how to forage for things, food and weed included.

Aruk folded his clean clothes up and put them in his dresser drawers, mindlessly pulling out a glass pipe and small bag he had hidden in the back of his underwear drawer as he did. He stopped to pack and light up his pipe, then smoked it leisurely as he cleaned up his part of the room, pushing his roommate’s clothes and trash across to the other side of the room.

Once he was done smoking and he was satisfied with how his part of the room looked, Aruk took to the shower to wash off some of the leftover smell from the night before. Aruk was big in every sense of the word, and the dorm shower was built for people smaller than him; despite having to lean down to wash his own head and shoulders, Aruk enjoyed the shower, especially when high. The peace and quiet that came with the privacy felt good. Being able to get naked and not have to worry about it the way he could at home felt good. The sensations of the water splashing onto him and washing down his body felt good.

He stood in the shower for a long while, thoughts wandering from the feeling of the water to the sound of the music he’d played that day, to running into Edgar in the hall, and he spent a long time thinking about Edgar, so long that by the time he finally stopped thinking about Edgar the shower water had started to run cold, and he let out a groan as he came crashing down with the recognition that the water was cold even though his skin felt so warm, his whole body felt so warm, and it all felt good—

A while later, Aruk settled into bed for an early afternoon nap, the faint warmth of his high still lingering on his brain as he pulled the blanket over himself, reveling in the softness of his blanket on his bare skin. After thinking about Edgar some more, and thinking about how the day had transpired, he sleepily decided that he’d audition for the orchestra after all, because after hearing what everyone else had told him, it felt like the right thing to do.

It felt good.

[cadpadawan]

31-Day Music Challenge

The social media is now flooded with all kinds of funny challenges, as people are stuck at home with nothing much to do. I guess online gaming, or getting shitfaced, becomes increasingly boring, when all kinds of tiresome responsibilites, like work, do not present any restrictions and limitations anymore. In a way, Facebook has started to resonate the air of those naive first few years, when your newsfeed was basically just one continuous stream of challenge that and challenge this.

Well, why the hell not?

What else is there to do, in order to pass the time with your mental health intact?

So, here I am...just another bored individual to join this endless crusade to make life worth living again, to make my personal life great again. Thus, I jumped on the wagon, and took on this fancy 31-day music challenge, that has been circulating in Facebook (for years, I think).

Although, I didn't find it challenging enough to just type the daily keyword in the Spotify search box and post the result in my Facebook wall. Because: more is more.

(Go ask Yngwie Malmsteen, if you don't believe me...)

The challenge for day #1 was to pick a song with a colour in the title.

I could immediately come up with a bunch of songs, only to realize that the vast majority of the song titles were themed around two basic colours: black and blue. I guess songwriters are a lazy bunch, when it comes to colours. It's pretty obvious, why lyricist everywhere find these two colours exceptionally appealing and resort to the abundant use of them, neglecting all the wonderful possibilites posed by the other colours of the spectrum. Of course black and blue, in terms of emotion and imagination, are much stronger than, say, yellow and orange. So, instead of just settling with the first few titles that came to mind, I wondered if I could come up with one song for each colour I can think of. I mean: a song that bears some personal meaning to me. In practice, this challenge basically meant that I would have to think hard while rummaging through the main three Spotify playlists that I have compiled with something like +16k or +17k songtitles, with the addition of my personal collection of some +2600 cd's – at least the rarities section for songs that are not available in Spotify.

Let's see if I have the stamina to go through my cd-racks, though. I had the forethought to organize my cd's in alphabetical order, by the name of the artist, years ago. For some weird reason, my beloved spouse has not yet agreed to the idea of re-furnishing our apartment with the central theme being those precious compact discs. That's why the cd-racks are placed in somewhat random and impractical fashion: most of them are located in the living room, with a few sections located in our bedroom. I guess, it's a good thing I had disposed of my vintage Rhodes-electric piano by the time when we started dating 20 years ago. I'm pretty sure she would have opposed strongly to the idea of having the instrument as a kitchen table, with the giant lid down. My Rhodes-piano was the so-called suitcase model, with a keyboard of 73 keys. When I moved out from my parents' house in the mid-90's, I decorated my one-room-apartment in the ethos of Japanese minimalism, due to the fact that I spent most of my income on records and alcohol. That Rhodes-piano served as a kitchen table, when I wasn't actually playing with it. Because: why the hell not?

Ok, then. The first colour...it shall be black.

Oh, boy! What a multitude of choices it presents! Should I pick an iconic 90's grunge anthem, like Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun? After all, I saw the band on stage in Helsinki cirka 1995. (I say ”cirka” because I'm not 100% sure about the year, and I'm too lazy to look it up in Google) The fond memories of those grungey early years in the 90's instantly remind me of a couple of equally important bands: Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains. Although, I've never seen either of them live. Pearl Jam had a song titled Black on their breakthrough debut album Ten. Alice in Chains had a killer track titled Black Gives Way to Blue. That epochal Pearl Jam album played non-stop in my car stereos at the time of its' release. I had it copied on a C-cassette. Remember that vintage format, anyone? (Yes, I'm THAT old...) With this particular AIC song I fell in love much later, as it was the title track on the band's comeback album, released in 2009 with the new singer William DuWall. First, I kinda hesitated to give this new AIC line-up any chances, but it turned out to be pretty damn good. Obviously, nothing can top the impact, that the Laney Staley-fronted AIC made with their Dirt-album in 1992. At the time of its' release, that album was a full-blown mindfuck! In retrospect, the year 1992 seems to have been pretty kick-ass, in terms of album releases:

Alice in Chains: Dirt

Rage Against The Machine: Rage Against The Machine

R.E.M.: Automatic for the People

Pantera: Vulgar Display of Power

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes

Faith No More: Angel Dust

Dream Theater: Images and Words

Aphex Twin: Selected Ambient Works 85-92

Prince & The New Power Generation: (Love Symbol Album)

Stereo MC's: Connected

Tom Waits: Bone Machine

Sade: Love Deluxe

The Prodigy: Experience

Megadeth: Countdown to Extinction

Eric B. & Rakim: Don't Sweat the Technique

The Orb: U.F.Orb

k.d.Lang: Ingenue

Suzanne Vega: 99.9 Fº

Stone Temple Pilots: Core

Curve: Doppelganger

Nick Cave: Henry's Dream

Neneh Cherry: Homebrew

Maybe I should choose something less obvious? At least, it would make this challenge less arduous for me, because it's evident that making a choice between two particularly dear songs from the past is nothing short of impossible. When in doubt, go for the dark horse! So, here goes: my choice for the song with the colour black in the title is:

Bonobo: Black Sands

Being something of a jazz aficionado, despite not really possessing any of the musical prowess to actually play jazz myself, it was love at first soundbite, when I chanced to hear the title track from Bonobo's 2010 album Black Sands on Bassoradio's morning special back in the day. Bonobo is the musical alias of British DJ-producer-musician Simon Green. His career spawns from the 90's trip hop aesthetics, with heavy influences of jazz and world music. Spicing up electronic beats with raw jazz samples, or even live musicians, was the thing to do, somewhere along the mid-90's. I guess it all started with a few insightful hip-hop artists layering their ghetto stompers with the occassional hardbop jazz sample back in the late 80's. For a short period, acid jazz was the coolest shit ever in the early 90's. In a somewhat natural chain of events, jazz eventually made its way to the brand new genres that evolved around the middle of the decade, trip hop and jungle, too.

That's how I got sucked into the all-consuming whirlpool of this abominable voodoo music – jazz. It's a wonder no-one has come up with a gateway theory yet, regarding the highly addictive nature of jazz music. It usually starts with small doses: an occassional jazz sample is slipped in the hip-hop track, or the breakdown section of a rock song is ornamented with a brief, improvised saxophone lead. Then you find yourself craving for more, and start delving into the depths of acid jazz, nu jazz, or whatever new genre that has incorporated jazz as an inherent element in its' aesthetic toolkit. After this honeymoon period, that might spawn over years and years, you eventually catch yourself red-handed, holding a genuine jazz album in your hands at the local record store, probably the usual entry-level drug-of-choice jazz classic: Kind of Blue by Miles Davis. It has been awarded the title of the greatest jazz album of all time – and for a reason, too. Multiple times. Then you're hooked. Next thing you know, you'll be blasting John Coltrane at a family reunion, with your beloved relatives giving you the dead-eyed stare, doubting the state of your mental well-being. Long story short: you simply cannot go wrong with a mellow waltz rhythm that's punctuated with the organic groove of a flesh-and-blood jazz drummer, and topped with hauntingly beautiful brass harmony.

Next up: the colour blue...

Again, I could go for something utterly obvious, like the song titled Blue by A Perfect Circle. Those lucky few, who know me in person, should be well aware of the fact, that I'm quite a diehard fanboy of the band. I was lucky enough to see the band's live performance a few years back, when they paid Finland a visit. Nevertheless, I think I can come up with something more unexpected.

Just let me think for a sec...

Remember the band Europe? Of course you do! (Unless you were born yesterday, like some, eww, millennial!) I think it would've required some exceptional measures in the noble art of cutting contact with the external world to not have been exposed to the band's 1986 megahit Final Countdown, during the past 34 years. (Fuck! Do I feel old yet?!?) BUT...before you dismiss the band as yet another hair-metal has-been, check out this song:

Europe: Not Supposed To Sing The Blues

It's pretty damn hard to believe it's a song by the same band that's responsible for that Final Countdown atrocity. To be honest, that particular throwback 80's hard rock ear-worm wouldn't probably get under my skin in such a thoroughly repulsive fashion, had I not performed the song countless times myself. It was quite an essential part of the live repertoire of the party band, that I toured with cirka 2004-2008. The modus operandi of this covers-only band was to play the most annoying 80's megahits, with the lyrics translated in Finnish with a liberal amount of tongue-in-cheek references to gay erotica. (On a side note, the band was actually quite popular in certain small regions, despite this dubious approach and the substantially high level of bad taste incorporated in the lyrics and live performances. We even ended up playing in a genuine gay wedding once. The humour of the band was, after all, benevolent albeit a bit harsh, at least in the context of these politically correct times...)

The song Not Supposed to Sing the Blues was released in 2012. It's pretty evident, that during this 26-year-period, following the release of Final Countdown, Europe managed to grow some serious balls, hidden somewhere below my musical radar. The oriental sounding motif, played with some cool mellotron string patch in the refrain before the chorus, has a nice Led Zeppelin-esque feel to it. You can't really go wrong with a slowed-down hard rock blues that is sugar-coated with a grain of Kashmir-strings, now can you?

Next up: white...

What first comes to mind? Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum, and Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, obviously. You see, I had both of these tracks in vinyl format, way back in the early 90's, when I was going through my ”moustache prog from the 70's”-phase. (Although, this particular Procol Harum song was actually released in 1968, and the Moody Blues song in 1967 – but, in order to be consistent and thorough, I had to dig deeper, to the roots of the prog...to the very dinosaur fossils)

I could throw in White Room by Cream, too. I used to listen to these particular tracks A LOT! In the age of vinyl, conducting a music marathon themed around, say, 60's and 70's ”moustache music”, was actually quite a laborous ritual. Every 25 minutes, or so, I had to flip the side of the record. Shuffling songs totally at random was simply a no-go-zone. Nowadays, it's so easy to compile a lengthy set of personal favorites in Spotify, WinAmp, iTunes, or whatever the fuck application you'd prefer, and just hit the randomize-button...fucking millennials, they have it SO easy. They have no idea of the struggle.

That's why we had those vintage C-cassettes: to copy that very special selection of songs, compiled with tender love and care, onto a format, that didn't require you to be on a constant lookout for when the album side was closing to an end. Besides, before the onslaught of cd-players, those vintage C-cassettes were the only way to impress people with either your refined taste in music, or with the lack of it, while you were occupied with the gentle art of pussy racing, driving around downtown in your awkwardly tuned-up mirthmobile, every goddamn Friday night.

I could pick White Wedding by Billy Idol, too...

It was one of those 80's hits that I used to play with the ”covers only”-party band.

Nah...

I think I will have to choose between Aisles of White by the Aussie soft-prog band the Butterfly Effect, and The Heart of a Cold White Land by the Finnish doomsters Swallow the Sun.

My beloved wife introduced me to Aussie prog, some 10 years ago. The gateway drug, I think, was Karnivool with their music video for All I Know. One day, when I was coming home from work, I caught my wife watching this particular video in YouTube. A little bit later, she unearthed a shitload of Aussie bands in Spotify. I guess she must've been hitting that ”similar artists”-link quite relentlessly. The Butterfly Effect was one of those magnificent bands she discovered. I remember hearing the song In A Memory for the first time. It struck a chord with me, in such a profound way, that I felt compelled to order the album Imago ASAP from some Australian music webstore. At the time, the back catalogue of the Butterfly Effect wasn't available in Finland. I don't know, if it's available even now, because the band is no longer active, I think. Aisles of White is the track #2 on that album, released in 2006. The band released one more kick-ass album in 2008, titled Final Conversation of Kings, and then I don't know what the hell happened.

Swallow the Sun is a bit doomish Finnish metal band, and I'm not really sure, when I actually found the band's music. I think I had their debut album The Morning Never Came (2003) in my cd-rack for years, but it wasn't until 2012, with the release of the magnificent Emerald Forest and the Blackbird album, that I truly fell in love with the band. It took me some five years to actually haul my ass to their gig for the first time. Every single time, when I found out that they were touring nearby, I was too busy with some utterly meaningless work-related bullshit to make it. Finally, in 2017 it happened. I had managed to get rid of my soul-sucking job, although due to a pretty hardcore reason (a brain tumour), so when I found out that Swallow the Sun was performing in Helsinki, in the legendary rock venue Tavastia, I definitely made sure that I was there – and fuck me sideways! It was indeed one of the best live performances that I have ever experienced, hands down!

In 2015, Swallow the Sun released a monolithic triple album Songs From the North, and this particular track, The Heart of a Cold White Land, is on the disc II, that is focused on the beauty side of the band's doom palette.

Swallow the Sun: The Heart of a Cold White Land

Next up: Red

Sielun Veljet was one of the most iconic Finnish rock bands in the 80's. The band released only a couple of albums with lyrics in English, of which the 1989 release Softwood Music Under Slow Pillars was the only one with the songs originally written in English. There was some other attempts to gain international fame and fortune, but in those cases, the songs were merely English translations of their most beloved hit songs, initially written in Finnish. This particular album was planned for international release – but the label executives were pretty disappointed, to say the least, when the band came up with an album full of acoustic psychedelia. It was released only in Finland and Sweden. The artwork on the album cover is actually a painting by a Peruvian artist Pablo Amaringo, depicting the shamanic ayahuasca ritual. Listening through this album in one go is somewhat similar experience, I would guess: a rewarding journey into the depths of the human psyche, albeit potentially exhausting, especially if you're not exactly in the proper mindset to begin with.

Well, ever since I got exposed to the oriental psychedelia of, say, Jimi Hendrix, Kingston Wall, and the like, I seem to have acquired a taste for this kind of weird and druggy, over-the-top freeform musical expression.

Sielun Veljet: Hey-Ho, Red Banana

Ok, then...What next?

What other colours are there, anyway? The three primary colours are: red, yellow and blue. All the other colours can be derived from these three fuckers. To be precise, I think black does not actually qualify as a colour... So, I've got most of these covered already. Of course, in order to pick some hairs, printers actually use magenta, yellow and cyan as their primary colours – and black, obviously. I can't recall a single song with ”magenta” or ”cyan” in the title, though. I could come up with a band or two, with these colours in the band name, such as Magenta Skycode, or Cyan Velvet Project, but song titles?

Nada.

Maybe, if I combed through my post-rock and soundtrack archives, I could come up with some epic 15-minute instrumental with either cyan or magenta mentioned in the lengthy piece of contemporary literature, that is supposed to be the title of the song...but I guess those tracks would not exactly mean worlds to me, as I clearly cannot remember them now. If something comes to mind, while I'm writing down this epistle, I'll address that particular colour and song, accordingly. Now, I shall get on with this challenge journal, onto the next ”normal”, everyday colour...

Which is?

The colour green.

Having played keyboards in a dubious number of proggy bands, with the tonal preferences leaning heavily toward everything vintage, I might as well pick a mellow Hammond-organ classic, such as Green Onions by Booker T. & the MG's, or a vintage synth classic from THE motion picture soundtrack album of all time: Memories of Green by Vangelis, from the timeless Blade Runner soundtrack.

But I won't...

It wasn't actually easy to come up with that many titles with the colour green mentioned. Excluding these two aforementioned classics, I could barely come up with four! As much as I like the desert rock stonerism of Kuyss, the song Green Machine is not my personal favourite in their back catalogue. So that narrows my options to three. The problem is that two of these songs seem to defy the laws of quantum physics: they both take a firm stranglehold on my soul, and throw it casually down the dark and dangerous alleys of nostalgia.

In the midst of 90's acid jazz boom, I had a peculiar habit of buying compilation cd's at random, if the heading on the cover somehow suggested that the contents of the cd had anything to do with this particular genre of music. By impulse-buying music I discovered a lot of gems, like the song Apple Green by Mother Earth. The band was an English acid jazz outfit, virtually unheard of in Finland, despite the tidal wave of acid jazz washing over also these rural perimeters. If Jamiroquai, the Brand New Heavies et al. rub you the right way, you definitely need to check this band out. I can still remember clearly, as if it happened yesterday, how I picked this acid jazz compilation from the vaults of the local record store that no longer exists.

Mr. Big was a band everybody just loved to hate at the turn of the decace, when the gigantic hair-do's of the 80's started to flatten out, and flannel shirts were showing faint signs of becoming the next level shit in the never-ending quest for cool. At the time, I was an under-aged college drop-out, devoting my attention to the finer things of guitar playing techniques, instead of studying for a decent profession. I had received my first electric guitar from my parents in 1988, and for the following 5-6 years, I spent most of my time and energy in an attempt to unravel the secrets of how to play guitar like Jimi Hendrix. I listened to quite a lot of speed and thrash metal on the side, too. Y'know, bands such as Anthrax, Metallica, Slayer and Stone, which was quite a legendary Finnish speed metal band in the late 80's. My budding personal artistic expression was anyhow more influenced by legendary old timers, like Hendrix. I simply loathed all sorts of pyrotechnical wankery (with the exception of certain tracks by Steve Vai and Joe Satriani). Mr. Big's lead guitarist Paul Gilbert was famous for that very special blend of technical stuff, that I wasn't interested in, not in the slightest. So, I never really gave the band a chance. I think my misconception of the band's music as some kind of a shit-show of technical masturbation was due to some instructional videos hosted by Gilbert. After all, his fame as a highly skilled guitarist must have derived from his contributions to several guitar magazines and instructional videos, instead of his career in Mr. Big. So, everytime I heard the intro of, say, To Be With You, on my car radio, I simply had to change the channel. In order to do so, I had to manually rotate the tuning knob. Yes, my first car stereos were THAT vintage! What a time it was to be alive! Years later, with the maturity of age like with a fine wine, I finally listened to the worn-out hits of this horrid band only to find out that – bummer! - in terms of songwriting, those goddamn Mr.Big hits were actually not that bad at all. The song Green-Tinted Sixties Mind was released on the album Lean Into It in 1991. Now, everytime I am exposed to this particular song, I am instantly reminded of what a stuck-up elitistic music snob I used to be during those emotionally tumultuous times.

So, I could resort to the luck of the draw, but luckily I've got one more candidate to go.

Lonely the Brave is one of my most recent findings. It's an English alt.rock band from Cambridge, formed in 2008. I really don't know much about the band, just this one song titled The Blue, The Green. I was exposed to it while playing the music trivia game Songpop 2 with my mobile phone during the past two years, I think. The game is about guessing songs within the timeframe of a 15 second clip. Pretty addictive at first, actually. This 15-second-soundbite was enough to gain my full attention, so I had to check out the song in full, instantly. I cannot pinpoint what exactly it is, but this particular song has that vague feeling of ”something”, that draws me to listen to it, time and time again.

Lonely The Brave: The Blue, The Green

Next up: yellow.

I was first introduced to Frank Zappa's unique music in the late 80's, by my classmate Jussi, who kindly exposed me to the timeless classic Bobby Brown Goes Down. At the delicate age of 15, it was a pretty anticipated reaction that the explicit song lyrics would strike a chord. A few years later, as I was browsing through the vinyl section at the local second hand record store, I came across a pure treasure: the gatefold vinyl edition of Roxy & Elsewhere by Frank Zappa & The Mothers. In mint condition, too! Dropping the needle on the first groove on the black vinyl back home was like taking the first hit of some mind-altering illegal substance. My perception of reality changed in an instant – and there was no going back. Such an exciting mixture of fusion jazz, rock and harsh satire was sure to make me an addict. So, in no time at all I built up enough tolerance and moved onto semi-lethal dosages, and purchased the albums Hot Rats, Grand Wazoo and Apostophe('). The last one was released in the year, when I was born (1974), and it included the hilarious 4-part rock suite about the unfortunate adventures of an eskimo named Nanook. One part of the suite is titled: Don't Eat the Yellow Snow. Sound advice at the time of a global pandemic, that originated from some peculiar pathogen spillover event in China, don't cha think?

Frank Zappa: Don't Eat The Yellow Snow

Not many colours left, I think...

Next up: purple.

I was exposed to the music of Jimi Hendrix via a documentary on TV, when I was a rosy-cheeked 7th grader in junior high. It happened around the same time, when I got my first electic guitar. So, I guess it must have been written in the stars, or something. The universe simply wanted me to focus on the noble art of guitarism, instead of getting a college degree on psychopathological marketing or accounting (fuck no!). My first guitar was a cheap stratocaster-copy with a Williams-logo on it. In a way, it resembled the vintage Mellotron keyboard: it simply would refuse to keep in tune. One of the first songs that I learned, despite the frustrating limitations imposed by the crap tuners on the guitar, was Purple Haze by Hendrix. I had to learn it by ear. You see, back in the gloomy days of the late 80's, there just wasn't that many guitar tabs around. Not in Finland, anyway. Later I did find an instructional guitar playing manual at the local library, with a few pages dedicated to the art of Jimi Hendrix. Mainly, the only viable option to learn any contemporary rock song, or even any classic from the days long gone, was either to learn it by ear, or to resort to the occassional tabs provided by the international guitar magazines – if you were fortunate enough to spot these much-sought publications at your local bookstore. (These fuckin' millennials have it SO easy!) On the other hand, learning to play primarily by ear must have developed my improvisational skills a great deal, as an added bonus. Improvisation is not so much about throwing up some pre-programmed fancy gimmicks at any given chance, but actually LISTENING to what your fellow musicians are playing and responding accordingly.

Next up: grey.

I think it was my dear wife, once again, who first introduced me to the band Thrice, by playing the song Digital Sea from the band's double album Alchemy Index, a long, long time ago. The band's vocalist/guitarist Dustin Kensrue is one of those few singers, who are blessed with a distinctive voice that speaks, or to be more precise, sings volumes. He might not have the same gravitas like Mark Lanegan or Tom Waits, but nevertheless, he has the voice of a protagonist who's been to hell and back. Mark Lanegan sounds like he's got a season ticket, and Tom Waits sounds like he's the devil running the show – or, to put it in Waits' own words:

”Don't you know, there ain't no devil,

that's just God when he's drunk...”

 Tom Waits: Heartattack and Vine

Anyways, the lyrics in a Thrice song could be compiled of a list of phone numbers, or the decimals of Pi (like Kate Bush actually did), and it would still sound like a profound wisdom concerning the transformative journey of being fully human.

Thrice: The Grey

Last but not least, the colour: turquoise.

For years, I actually thought that Boards of Canada was indeed a Canadian outfit. Y'know, indie bands in particular come up with these band names that have some funny and ironic twist. Somewhere along the way, it finally dawned on me that this magnificent electronic duo is actually from Scotland. Well, of course it is! If my memory isn't playing any tricks on me now, I'm pretty sure that Soulsavers and Hidden Orchestra are Scottish, too. And they all have something in common. Each of these electronic outfits has an extraordinary and unique, boss-level prominance in the way they manage to capture emotion in their instrumentals.

Boards of Canada released a 5-minute electronic epic titled Turquoise Hexagon Sun on the album Music Has the Right to Children in 1998. The name of the song is actually a reference to the duo's recording studio Hexagon Sun. It makes it even more marvellous, that an instrumental track with a title deriving from something so mundane can touch your heartstrings so deeply. It's not that often, when an electronic instrumental with a hip-hop beat, glassy vintage synth motifs and deliberately lo-fi production paired with grainy samples, manage to do that. These Scottish bastards must've been onto something...

Well, that's pretty much all there was to the first day in this music challenge! I was supposed to pick one song, and I ended up writing a fucking novel about it...Tomorrow the plot shall thicken even more, when I introduce you to the theme of the day #2.

In the meanwhile, you can do yourself a favour and listen to:

Boards of Canada: Turquoise Hexagon Sun

Stay tuned! Cheers!

[kohakuneko]

The Best Anime You’re Not Watching: Princess Principal

If you follow me over on my main blog, you’ve probably seen me gushing/screaming/crying about this show for the past month or so (you’re probably tired of it by now and I’m not sorry). I knew from the premise that I was going to like this anime at least a little bit, but I really wasn’t expecting the huge emotional reaction I ended up having towards it and from what I can tell a lot of other people who watched this show feel the same way. Anyways, I love this show to death and more people need to watch it, which is exactly what the point of this blog is. And I really want to post more often here, so this seems like the perfect opportunity to talk about Princess Principal. (also I have a lot of thoughts about this show and absolutely nobody to talk about it with because none of my friends have seen it yet WHICH IS REALLY FRUSTRATING DAMMIT)

Princess Principal is set in Albion, an alternate steampunk version of late-19th/early-20th century England. Ten years following a civil war known as the “London Revolution”, a great wall separates the country into two opposing nations: the Commonwealth and the Kingdom. Though officially at peace, conflict is still high between both factions as each side sends spies to duke it out in the shadows. Our story follows a team of five undercover Commonwealth agents: Ange, a pathological liar and self-proclaimed alien, Dorothy, the team’s leader, getaway driver, and token sex appeal, Beatrice, a sweet sweet cinnamon roll with the ability to mimic people’s voices, Chise, a skilled samurai experiencing massive amounts of culture shock, and Princess Charlotte, a member of the Kingdom’s royal family who is totally Ange’s girlfriend. Every night for these spies is girl’s night out as they crash parties, take names, and navigate the mysterious underworld of espionage.

First thing we have to get on the same page about is the opening. Because it’s absolutely EPIC.

(i thought tumblr let you embed videos but i guess not? or maybe i screwed up? anyways there’s a link up there go watch it)

Moving on, let’s start praising Princess Principal (holy wow ALLITERATION) by talking about the setting. This show has literally everything I could ever want to see: steampunk, action, spies, and a kickass all-female lead cast… and lesbians, but more on that later. Probably my favorite things about the universe of Princess Principal are all the little gadgets the characters use, most notably Ange’s C-Ball that lets her float.

There’s also other things like the huge machinery we see in an underground scene, the cars that the team drives, the Kingdom’s airships… whatever the heck Beatrice made in episode 8…

(seriously we never get any kind of explanation for this thing and it never comes back again but this one little part is so frickin funny)

There’s also concept art/blueprints somewhere of some of the different vehicles and mechanical devices seen in the show. I can’t find them now (I wanna say they’re on twitter?), but I remember they were pretty detailed and it’s clear a lot of thought was put into the inner workings of everything no matter how big or small. And yes, there’s blueprints for Beatrice’s thingamajig too. 

On the subject of detail and thought, a lot of that definitely went into the writing as well. There are a lot of mysteries and plot twists to unravel throughout the series that are very well executed. Most of it is based around sprinkling in little hints throughout an episode that come together within the final minutes and though they’re not completely obvious at first, they’re always right there in front of you in plain sight; you just have to pay close attention. Being able to pick up on all these things kind of makes you feel like a spy yourself, in a way.

The music for Princess Principal was done by Yuki Kajiura, which automatically gives pretty much every anime fan very high expectations going in. I think Kajiura really delivers in this series; in fact, this might be one of my favorite soundtracks of hers to date. There’s a lot of her signature style that we all know and love, complete with the epic vocals in the background, but in this OST she also adds a lot of jazzy pieces into the mix as well. It kinda gives it a bit of a “James Bond” type of feel, perfect for spies running around in jolly old England Albion, especially when the saxophone kicks in. Even the opening, while not composed by her, still gives off the same sort of vibe with the bass around the middle of the track along with, of course, some awesome sax. (oh boy don’t read that bit out loud haha if you know what I mean)

And now, finally, we get to the bit I’ve been most itching to talk about. The thing that is, in my opinion, the biggest strength of Princess Principal: its characters.

At first glance, we have a very typical action team setup. You’ve got the leader (Dorothy), the cool prodigious main character (Ange), the muscle (Chise), the sweet smart one (Princess), and of course, the lil’ cute one who supplies the moe (Beatrice). But as you watch the show, you find out very quickly that all five of them are developed much much further than those basic concepts and that none of them are what they seem to be on the surface, which is pretty fitting since they’re all spies. (yeah, I know I called Dorothy the “token sex appeal” earlier, but that was just for comedic purposes; don’t get mad at me plz XD) And as you just saw in the above image, they’ve all got really cool designs, too. (where can i get me Ange’s hat and cape i really want them)

Of course, this is a show about a team of spies, so it wouldn’t matter how cool they all were individually if they didn’t work together well as a cast. And they do.  Ange, as the main character, is not surprisingly exceptionally skilled all around and in any other show she’d probably just be soloing every mission. But as good as she is, she isn’t at all invincible or OP; she needs the specialized abilities that all her teammates possess. Each of them has a very important role to play and none of them are at any point just dead weight. The other four team members don’t just exist to support Ange either; all five of them support each other as a single unit. 

They also play off one another very well outside of missions and their team dynamic has clear development over the course of the show. And that development is not derived from the overdone “You’re getting a partner” “But I don’t want a partner” “Actually come to think of it you’re not so bad partner” schtick you see in all the buddy cop movies; they don’t do that at all THANK GOD. Instead, it’s a bit more on the internal and subtle side. At the start, while everyone clearly works together well and missions go very smoothly for the most part, you still get the sense that they have a very thin layer of trust towards one another and they may not all be on the same side, which, again, is very befitting of spies. Sure they’re teammates and they all work for the same people, but individually they each have their own goals and motivations, some more obvious than others. Because of that, they each occasionally withhold information from each other and sometimes even the audience (again, some more than others). But as time goes on and they figure out more about each other, they start to bond and form a genuine friendship. They begin to channel their individual goals into their work as a team and either open up about or put to rest whatever secrets they’re keeping. And again, all of this is very subtle, which is as it should be; we don’t need all this stated, we can clearly see their chemistry.

And SPEAKING of clearly seeing chemistry…. Ange and Princess are gay. Like, REALLY FUCKIN GAY. Like, I have no idea how they’re so good at stealth missions cuz they’re setting off ALL the gaydar alarms with how gay they are.

If you’ve been on either of my blogs for a while, you probably know that the only anime I watch have lesbians or at the very least a ton of yuri subtext. (okay that’s a lie I watch other things too… kind of…) So yeah, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that most of the reason I kept watching this show was because I ship these two XD. But in all seriousness, they are perfect together; their relationship is very well-developed both casually and romantically and easily one of the show’s highlights.

And what makes this pairing even better is that IT’S BASICALLY CONFIRMED TO BE CANON IN EVERY DAMN CAPACITY. I won’t spoil the show here of course, but they make it pretty clear that the two of them are in love. Also, if you’ve watched some of the livestream events with the main voice actors because you’re running away from responsibilities and don’t want to sleep (help me), then you’ll see that they all pretty much ship them too (especially Ange’s and Princess’s VAs). They’re all such cute lovable dorks and it’s clear they care about the show as much as the rest of us do, which is always great.

And lastly, good god, have you SEEN the promo art???

yep. das pretty gay.

So what have we learned today from this long-ass post? Princess Principal is a marvelous anime with an intriguing setting, awesome music, brilliant characters, and adorable lesbian spies. What more could you possibly need in a show? Please go give this anime the love it deserves; you won’t regret it.

[fifteenstrawberries]

Surely Someday

So, once upon a time, I had an idea for a music au. and, well . . . 

Also please please check out the song in the description, you will not regret it, I promise.

Surely Someday

Modern college/ jazz band au. Title and the lyrics at the end come from “Because” by Yoko Kanno. Which is emphatically Not Jazz, but it worked so well I couldn’t help it. The legendary jazz quintet, Voltron, of Altea University, started out as just Hunk and Lance jamming out in an empty music room. They would get back from their afternoon classes, grab Lance's trumpet and Hunk's bass from the orchestra room lockers, then find a good space and chill for an hour or so, unwinding from the stress of the day. They never set out to play anything specific-- Lance liked to improvise and Hunk was good at riffing off his notes, but by the time Pidge found them, they'd practiced enough songs for a pretty decent length set.

Pidge-- better known as Katie Holt to everyone but Hunk and Lance-- was one of those child musical genius prodigy types, who came to the university for classes and was on track to graduate early with a degree in music composition. She took lessons for five different instruments (only piano was required for her degree, the rest were just for fun) and had apparently never heard of improv jazz before in her life. She had burst into their practice room and demanded to know what exactly they were doing, that chord would work much better if you raised the bass line by a half step, and could they please decide whether they were playing in four/four time or not? Her brother had dragged her out, apologizing profusely, as Katie shouted back questions, wanting to know if they actually knew how to play their instruments because that would explain a lot, really.

Needless to say, they kept her.

It was just the three of them for the first few weeks. And that was good! Pidge kept bringing different instruments to their jam sessions and had a knack for harmonizing, and kept bringing new music for them to play, either her favorite songs arranged for trumpet, bass, and clarinet, or pieces that she'd written for her music composition class with Professor Coran. They even performed during the Homecoming concert as 'the Voltron Jazz trio.'

"Which is why," Lance argued, as Hunk stapled another 'looking for player' notice on the student board, "We don't need another player. Jazz trios are a thing, dude."

"Jazz quartets are also a thing," Hunk gave him an amused look, "It'll be nice to have another person to play with. Besides, we're getting to the point where we could really use a decent drummer."

"Oh no. The legendary Voltron jazz trio does not need a drummer."

"Do you want to give Pidge an excuse to bring her metronome again?"

Lance shuddered. That practice had been a nightmare and didn't bear remembering.

"Exactly," Hunk said grimly. "The only way we're going to keep her from bringing that monstrosity again is if we put someone on drums." He stapled the next flier to the cafeteria message board with unnecessary force, muttering to himself, "Bringing a metronome to jazz practice, honestly . . . ."

Lance patted his shoulder in silent, sympathetic commiseration.

In the end, only one person got in touch with them. Hunk refused to tell Lance who it was, and it wasn't until Lance saw a familiar mullet sitting at a table at the student café, waiting to meet them, that he understood why.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Lance hissed, clutching at Hunk's arm.

"Nope."

"Keith? Really? Keith?!"

"He's the only one that responded and he's good, Lance, don't you dare ruin this because of that one thing when you were a freshman."

"It was marching band! Do you know how cool I would've been if I'd gotten into marching band?"

Pidge rolled her eyes at their whispered argument, pulling the café door open, "Hey," she said, walking up to Keith, "Are you here for us?"

Keith blinked at her, "I think so. Are you guys the--" He consulted one of Hunk's fliers, now wrinkled almost beyond recognition, "Voltron jazz ensemble?"

"That's us," Hunk said agreeably, pulling up a chair.

Lance flung himself into the chair opposite Keith, who eyed him uncertainly. "So, Keith," Lance drawled, "Since when were you interested in jazz?"

"I'm not, really," Keith shrugged, "But I need another extracurricular if I'm going to keep my scholarship next semester and the rock band I was going to join fell through."

"Lucky for us then," Hunk noted, ignoring the strangled sound Lance was making, "You said you play drums, right?"

"For the past ten years."

"Cool. I play bass, Pidge here plays either clarinet or saxophone depending, and you know that Lance plays trumpet."

 “Ummm . . . .”

Lance could actually see the moment where Keith failed to remember how he had ruined Lance's life.

No. No nononono no no nope, Lance refused to play with a guy who didn't even have the decency to remember his part in one of the more humiliating moments in Lance's life. Keith wasn't getting into Voltron. Period.

But Hunk might actually kill him if he just stood up and walked away, so Lance needed to figure out a way to dispose of Keith subtly . . . .

His eyes lit on Pidge.

Perfect.

"You the only person who replied to the flier," Hunk was saying.

"But we have a minor in our group," Lance interrupted, ignoring the strange looks all three were giving him, "So Pidge gets a final say in who joins."

There, Lance thought smugly. Keith looked nervous as Pidge inspected him over the top of her glasses. Hunk couldn't even give him a hard time about it, they'd already agreed that they would defer to Pidge's judgement since she was the closest thing they had to a conductor. And Pidge had ridiculously high standards when it came to the people she played with so there was no way she'd ever, ever--

"Keith can stay." Pidge said.

"Oh, cool," Hunk said, as Lance gaped, "Keith you heard her, you're in."

"Why?!" Lance exclaimed, staring at Pidge in betrayal.

Pidge pushed up her glasses, "He can play the percussion piece I composed."

Hunk and Lance paused.

"The one you brought in last week?" Hunk ventured.

"The one you wrote specifically to be physically impossible to play?" Lance yelped.

They both turned to Keith, who shrugged. "It was pretty challenging." He admitted.

Hunk and Lance exchanged long, speaking looks.

"Fine," Lance sighed, at the end of their silent conversation, "Keith," He paused, then said begrudgingly, "Welcome to Voltron."

Keith grinned.

"Do you have some time right now?" Hunk asked, as Pidge offered Keith a high five, "We're going to find a practice room to jam in. You can come and get a feel for how we play together."

"Yeah, sounds good." Keith nodded, still smiling faintly, and stood up.

"You're in charge of whatever sticks or tambourines or whatever you need to play." Lance told him, "Don't expect us to help you lug around your equipment. It's every man for himself."

Pidge cleared her throat pointedly.

"Every person for themselves." Lance amended.

"I . . . wasn't expecting you to?" Keith was frowning again, confused.

"Ignore him Keith, he's just mad that you don't remember him." Hunk said, holding the door open for everyone to walk outside.

"Oh," Keith gave Lance another confused look, "Sorry?"

Lance seethed.

Ten minutes later, walking through the halls toward the practice room, Keith stopped dead, "Wait, Lance, weren't you the guy who sent like five people to the hospital during marching band auditions?"

"Minor injuries, only three people, and it was your fault!"

"That's why you've been giving me a hard time? How was it my fault that you tripped over your own feet?!"

"I was distracted by your mullet!" _____________________________________________________________________________

Practices got a lot more . . . intense, after Keith joined--

("Keith, can you at least try to stay on the beat?"

"It's called syncopation, Lance, I know you know what that is.")

--But even Lance could admit that they were better with him than without.

Lance and Hunk finally got the paperwork together to get their little band registered as an official club so Keith could list it on his transcript. They played at the November Thanksgiving concert, the Christmas concert, the faculty holiday party . . . . Miss Allura, who planned college events on top of being Pidge's piano teacher, booked them for like three different alumni parties, telling them that since they were playing anyway, they might as well get paid for it. Things settled into a new kind of normal.

Until one day in early spring when Keith pulled Lance aside, and told him that his friend was joining their next practice. "So try not to be as much of an asshole as you usually are." He said, voice tight.

Lance bristled, "Excuse you, I am not--"

"You are," Keith interrupted, "And I'm warning you now, if you rag on him the way the way you do me, I'm going to melt down your trumpet and turn it into an asshole of the year trophy."

Lance gasped, clutching his trumpet protectively to his chest as Keith turned on his heel and left.

 He spent the rest of the night complaining to Hunk. How dare Keith threaten his trumpet! Would Keith deny the world the sweet music Lance made, over perfectly valid criticisms of his hair, and fashion sense, and ability to stay on beat?

Then Keith's friend stepped into the music room with a shock of white hair and tired eyes, the lower half of his right sleeve hanging empty, and yeah, Lance could see how even the good-natured teasing he indulged in might be out of place here.

Takashi Shirogane. Piano virtuoso and Altea University alumnus extraordinaire. The gift shop still sold recordings of his Carnegie Hall piano concert.

While Lance was standing there tongue tied, Hunk set his bass on its stand and walked over, left hand extended, "You must be the friend Keith was telling us about." He grinned, "I'm Hunk."

"Takashi Shirogane. Call me Shiro, please." Shiro shook his hand with a warm flicker of a smile.

"Good to meet you," Hunk said easily, "The tiny one with three different instruments is Pidge—“

 Pidge waved from where she was putting together her clarinet.

 “—and the guy emptying his spit valve on the carpet like a heathen is my friend Lance. He's the one that got this whole crazy thing started."

"Glad you could join us," Lance said, trying for nonchalant because holy shit, was Takashi Shirogane really going to play with them?? "So do you wanna practice with us or . . . ?" Wait, missing arm, shit.

Hovering at his friend's elbow, Keith's expression went from resting bitch-face to murderous.

The quirk in Shiro's smile was the only indication that he'd noticed Lance's faux pas. "Nah. I don't want to mess you up. Keith tells me you do a lot of improv."

"Oh, improv's not hard," Lance assured him, "Lots of people think that it is, but really, just pick a chord and a key and go from there. You could probably do it with one hand tied behind--" God dammit, if Keith wanted to kick his ass later, Lance was going to let him.

After a long pause where Lance tried to ascend to the astral plane and Keith tried to kill Lance with his brain— Hunk was standing with his eyes raised to the ceiling, hands pressed together in front of his mouth like he was praying-- Pidge said, "You are the living embodiment of tact, Lance."

"Thanks for the salt Pidge, makes the shoe leather taste much better."

Shiro laughed. “It’s okay, really.”

Huh. Maybe Lance could hold off on suicide by Keith after all.

"Seriously though," Pidge added, glancing at Shiro, "You're just going to sit and listen to us?"

Shiro’s smile turned wry, and he shrugged. The movement made the empty part of his sleeve sway.

Keith hesitated, unhappy, "Shiro--"

"It's fine," Shiro interrupted. He nudged Keith in the direction of the drum set, pulling out a chair for himself at the edge of the room, "Do your thing. Just pretend I'm not here."

Lance caught a glimpse of Keith as he walked past . . . .

"Hey Shiro" Lance said suddenly, "Can you sing?"

Shiro paused with his hand on the back of the chair, taken by surprise, "What?"

"Pidge has been working on some stuff with vocals," Lance nodded at her, "Right Pidge?"

"Oh yeah!" Pidge dove for her backpack, pulling out a pile of sheet music, "It started out as an exercise for my music composition class, but it turned out to be really fun, so I kept going."

Shiro blinked at the music she shoved into his hands, "Fall Out Boy?"

"Arranged for jazz band." Pidge agreed, "Now come on, get over here so we can hear you."

"I'm not really a singer," Shiro protested, pulling his chair over slowly.

"Can you carry a tune in a bucket?" Lance asked, arranging his music on his stand.

"Yes?"

"Then you can sing. It's fine man, it's jazz," Lance flashed him a smile, then turned to the rest of the group, "Let's get started. Pidge, Hunk, you all tuned up?"

"Of course." Pidge sniffed at him, picking up her clarinet and playing a short C major. Hunk plucked his strings a couple more times, then gave Lance a thumbs up.

"Keith, we've actually got someone singing with us today. Try not to drown us out the way you usually do."

Keith rolled his eyes, "Right back at ya, buddy."

Lance sneered elegantly at him, then turned to Shiro, "If you get lost, just keep an eye on Hunk, he’ll cue you in. And remember, if you mess up, blame Pidge."

"Hey!" Pidge squawked.

"I can read this sheet music woman! When exactly am I supposed to breath?"

"You talk that long without breathing all the time, you'll be fine."

"Ha. Ha. Everyone all set?" Lance glanced around. Pidge was rolling her eyes at him, Hunk was snickering, Shiro was trying to hide a bemused smile, and Keith kept stealing glances at Shiro.

Lance had never seen that expression on Keith's face before.

"We're ready," Lance decided, "On my count. A-five six seven eight!" _____________________________________________________________________________

They had been good before. But after Shiro joined, something locked into place, and now they were on their way to becoming great.

Shiro had a beautiful, strong tenor, and was surprisingly good at singing the blues for someone who had never studied jazz before. (Which was Not To Be Commented On.)

 It took them a while to convince him to come to practice. He kept trying to bow out, saying that he didn’t want to disrupt their practice, or that he wasn’t a good enough singer, or that he was too old, they couldn’t possibly want him around--

 (Pidge rolled her eyes, “Dude, just shut up and sing with us.”

 “It’s a little hard to do both.” Shiro said drily.)

 But once they’d finally managed to convince him that they didn’t care, he was took to jazz like he’d been waiting for a way to let music back into his life after . . . after. He started taking singing lessons, he audited Lance and Hunk’s music history class, he started making requests and suggestions, looking for ways for all of them to improve—

 Lance felt something warm and soft in his chest when Shiro launched into an impromptu lecture on the historical significance of Harlem jazz clubs, eyes no longer tired but shining with enthusiasm. He glanced at Keith, who was watching Shiro with the same warm, soft expression as Lance, and the two of them shared a smile.

 Shiro took over as music director, with Lance’s blessing. They had a little ceremony to transfer the tuner and everything. It was just as well, really. Shiro was much better at keeping them all in line, and with him in charge Lance could goof off with his friends instead of pretending to be responsible.

 Then Pidge set up a Youtube channel for them, they recorded a couple songs and put them up and . . . suddenly they were kinda sorta famous? People recognized them when they walked around campus now, and usually complemented them on their videos and asked when were they going to put up the next one. Miss Allura and Professor Coran helped them record their first album, carefully making no mention of the fact that this was Shiro’s second time doing this. After finals were over and school let out for the summer, they even got a couple gigs! Nothing too big, just a couple coffee shops in and around the tristate area and one wedding. But it was still enough to justify renting a van to take the Voltron band to their various locations.

 They turned it into a proper road trip. Mr. and Mrs. Holt drove and chose various places for them to stop and have fun, museums and parks and farmers markets. Shiro divided his attention between helping them navigate and keeping peace in the back seat, which became essential when they were forbidden from practicing in the car.

 It was different, more exciting and more stressful than anything Lance had ever done before, and he was sincerely grateful that Shiro was there to talk them down from their pre-concert jitters. Going out there, being on a stage and seeing a whole crowd of people watching . . . .

 Lance never imagined that him and Hunk jamming out in a classroom together would lead to this.

 Then it was over. They went their separate ways for the rest of the summer, promising to meet up when school started.

 Now here they were again, after the first day of classes, Hunk, Lance and Pidge with instruments in hand, and Keith twirling his drumsticks like a cheerleader’s baton, heading for the auditorium where they’d agreed to meet. None of them had heard from Shiro in the past month, but Keith promised he’d be there for practice in a couple hours. In the meantime they had an after-class jam session to get to, which was a tradition dammit, and they weren’t going to let things like an impending concert and a growing case of fame get in the way.

 Only it seemed like some one was already there. A slow melody plinked out from the baby grand on stage, and Lance craned his head to see who was playing . . . .

 That was Shiro.

 In the wings, Lance threw out a hand to stop the others, motioning for silence. Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth and Keith grabbed onto Lance’s shirt. Pidge rolled her eyes at them, but stayed quiet.

 Shiro was frowning in concentration as he picked out the notes, his eyes as tired as they had been the first time he’d come to practice with them.

 Lance couldn’t help but remember the two albums on his computer, played countless times. The piano on them had sung, the notes flowing like water, smooth and easy . . . .

 This wasn’t that.

 Stiff and clumsy, from lack of practice and the use of his non-dominant hand, the music bare without a second hand to play harmony, but he was still playing, and they would never ask for more than that—

 One of Keith’s drumsticks dropped, clattering against the ground. Shiro’s gaze flew up, eyes widening when he saw them in the wings.

 Lance tried for a grin as Hunk waved sheepishly behind him.

 Shiro flushed and looked away, his hand falling from the keyboard.

 No, dammit, that wasn’t—they hadn’t meant--

 Lance, Hunk and Keith slunk on stage, setting up and tuning their instruments guiltily.

 Pidge just stood there with her hands in her pockets, head tilted like a bird, “Why’d you stop?”

 “We’ve got a lot of work to do before our first concert,” Shiro didn’t look up, his remaining hand curled loosely in his lap, “If you’re all here we should start practice.”

 “You were already practicing though.” Pidge pointed out, frowning slightly.

 Shiro didn’t reply.

 Pidge slid onto the bench next to Shiro, picking up his hand and placing it on the keys when he didn’t move. “You take the top, I’ll take the bottom.” She told him, and started to play.

 Hunk joined in next, drawing long, slow, easy notes from his bass. Then Keith, with a soft, rolling beat on the cymbals. Lance took the descant, playing as quietly as he could.

 Then Shiro finally beginning to play again, the counterpoint to Pidge’s harmony, and all of them shifted to match.

 They played their way through the opening one more time. Shiro was smiling now, as music echoed throughout the hall.

____________________________________________________________________________________

 "Someday

Look back On a

Young day We shared

We learned We had

We lost Because

You know Tomorrow had another plan Because

We lose

The future is all we have left We have someday Surely someday Surely someday"

[kishimoto-did-us-dirty]

Naruto Arts School AU

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura 

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance). 

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters. 

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help??? 

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin 

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too. 

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since. 

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids (I feel that (I used to be one so don’t come at me)). Assistant TD. Karin hates him. 

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teachers. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke. 

And that’s that!! Feel free to send in more requests!! Tell me what you think~ 

[denniskismet]

Diane Birch - Nous

In case you overlooked Diane Birch’s magnificently dark, brooding, melancholic yet hopeful EP Nous in 2015, there is now a vinyl version with an extra track to complete the story. Inspired by Hypatia, the 4th century mathematician and astronomer Hypatia who was (literally) torn to shreds for being too progressive and, oh, a woman, the record was written, produced and released by Birch herself on her own label, Hymnpatia (we see what you did there, Diane). Here the piano prodigy daughter of a Seventh-day Adventist preacher talks us through the eight tracks that make up this stunning piece of work. And the title? Yes, if means ‘us’ in French, but mainly it’s Greek for ‘mind’, ‘intellect’ and ‘common sense’. If you possess any of the latter, you will use it and get to know this record. 

What was the genesis of Nous? When did Hypatia first cross your path, and how does her story tie in with the record?

The theme was inspired organically by an overall state of mind which I suppose was brewing for some time. I found myself looking inward and starting to question so many of my beliefs and ideas about the world and realizing how subconsciously programmed I was, even though I've always believed myself to be progressive and unconventional. As I started to evolve within I noticed the same kinds of struggles and shifts outside in the world. The divine feminine was a very strong theme for me with Nous. Realizing how suppressed she had been within not only myself but in the world. Hypatia was of course an inspiration given the threat of her power within a patriarchal system. We are still fighting the same battles that so many strong women have given their life for, so she was a muse of sorts for the opening.

When did the title come to you? It’s beautifully ambiguous.

A friend had texted me a quote from a book she was reading and 'Nous' had been described as 'the finest point of the soul'. This really struck me and I researched it further. The older philosophical definitions point to 'awareness, understanding, intuition' etc... I also liked the ambiguity of it as it could also be referred to as 'we' in French, which seemed equally appropriate.

We won’t lie: the phrase ‘additional saxophone recorded by Stuart Matthewman in NYC’ blows our mind. How did you snare a member of ACTUAL SADE?

Ha! I'm also a huge Sade fan. Stuart has been a good friend of mine for quite some years now and also happens to be one of the loveliest people on the planet. He has such a signature sound and one that I felt would evoke the smoothness that I wanted on the album.

You recorded the album in Berlin. How did the city influence this album, do you think, if at all?

Berlin was a wonderful place for me to focus and I was deeply inspired by the history and manner in which the city has risen from the ashes of its past. It was also incredibly therapeutic to be in an environment where I could fully express myself without the pressure of NYC socially, financially, logistically et cetera. I felt very free there and the musicians were wonderful, as well as the studios filled with pristine German gear that would make any audiophile's mouth water, ha ha.

‘Thank you to my muse and partner in crime, Meshakai Wolf’, you write, and that Nous would not exist without him. Can you expand on that?

Meshakai was my boyfriend at the time and we also moved to Berlin together. He was a massive support in every phase of the album and practically dragged me out the door and into a studio from being curled up in a ball on the floor wanting to quit music. He was my muse and a creative collaborator on videos, album art et cetera, and we also wrote the lyrics for Kings of Queens together.

Ordinary Angels is the extra track on the newly released vinyl edition. Why did it need to be on here to complete the story?

Ordinary Angels was an older track like so many others bumming around in my hard drive. I'd always liked it and felt it was a shame that it never had anywhere to go in terms of a release. When we agreed a vinyl pressing with Rough Trade, I thought it would be nice to make it special and add a bonus track, so I threw it in the mix.

It’s such a great short phrase on the sleeve: ‘Produced by Diane Birch’. Are we right in thinking this is the first time you did everything yourself? Was this important to you, a moment of: ‘I’m ready’?

Yes, it meant a lot to me to feel like I'd really done something on my own. After so many years on a major leaning label and a team of people around me, I had really lost sight of my own creativity. It took a hell of a lot of work for me to build myself up to a place where I believed in my singular vision again as I had done so many years ago when I was just starting out, and it was a very rewarding experience to prove to myself that I had the power to create and do it all myself and not be at the mercy of everyone else.

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Nous by Diane Birch, track by track

Hymn for Hypatia

“(And the light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not)”

It is a phrase in ancient Koine Greek that I crafted into a chant as an ode of thanks to Hypatia who had so many gifts and talents, yet was too powerful and bright for the times in which she lived. 

How Long

“I'm a fool, I'm a fool for cryin' / but you're just cruel, you're just cruel to leave me dyin'”

This song is about waiting to find vulnerability, empathy and ultimately love from someone that is trapped within their own perspective.

King of Queens

“King of Queens with no means to rule / there will always be a crowd to fool”

This song was inspired by the NY Mets. As someone who's never cared about baseball, I found myself in a conversation with Meshakai one day about why on earth he would spend so much time and energy watching, supporting, and caring about a team who always seemed to be losing while they painfully drag along a seemingly depressed yet unwavering fan base. As he started describing his love of the game and the Mets in particular I was struck by the poetry and romance of it all and how layered the love of the game actually was. The flip meaning of it for me again points to patriarchy and the extent to which the “kings” are still trying to assume their dominance, yet without the embracing and honouring of the divine feminine they don't have the means to “rule the world” in a deeper sense. 

Stand Under My Love

“Big sky come crashing down / there has to be a place for us in this world / with a little shelter from up above / little lies at every turn / I wanna be the face you trust in this world / when you need a little shelter / stand under my love.”

This song was inspired by wars, within ourselves and out in the world. The idea that so many people have nowhere to turn, no one who understands. It was what I wanted to sing to the refugees, even to the terrorists, to anyone that felt so pushed to their limits of living that death seemed the only option.

Walk On Water

“Take a step out, love is an ocean / we can walk on water / on water.”

This song came about regarding the relationship between a father and a son and the limits to which ego and pride had cemented a certain dynamic and behavioural pattern between them. The idea that we place limits on ourselves and our relationships with people based on our conditioning which has no absolute truth or meaning other than what we continue to give it. Borders were a strong theme in the song, and how dangerous they can be within ourselves and within the world. Again the refugee crisis had a big impact, seeing how parallel the messages were for me.

Woman

“Ancient mother of the skies / hiding behind my eyes / come out in the open before the world is broken / I am, I am / the shape of your shadow / the blood on your arrow / woman, woman.”

This was written as a kind of prayer for the divine feminine within myself and within everyone. I was really struggling to ditch the maiden seat and feel worthy of stepping up onto the throne within. I was also calling out in humble gratitude to the women who have fought to their heights and depths, often sacrificing everything for their higher calling.

Ordinary Angels

“Some kind of law / some kind of split-second magic / gone without a trace.”

This song was written during a period of pretty bad depression for me. I had been experiencing very nihilistic thoughts about life and death and perhaps confronted with yet another blow to the already exasperating desire to find meaning and magic in anything at all. It felt as though the veil of innocence had been ripped off, the drugs wore off and the lights came on to reveal there were just a bunch of actor angels wearing glow stick halos and all this time I had believed they were other worldly beings. It was my Wizard of Oz moment, I guess.

[thesingerscorner]

An Interview with a Millennial Musician

     College - the best time of a young person's life. A college degree - one of the most valuable things a person of today can have. A college degree in music, however? To many, a degree in the arts is rendered useless. With so many amateur musicians in every career and organization in today's society, helping to contribute to the modern ideal of creative thinking and problem solving, what is the role of the musician-by-trade? What does it mean to be a successful professional musician to a millennial? To Greg O'Keefe, a senior college student studying Music Industry, that role is simple, and essential.

"Ms. Vanacore: Why are you doing what you do?

Mr. O'Keefe: Because I couldn’t do anything else.

Why not?

Because I want to bring other people the joy that it brings me. If people could feel the same way I do when they listen to the music I make, that would be a success. Like, the way I feel when I listen to music other people make.

How have the artists you’ve been listening to gotten you to this point?

They’ve showed me that I’m not the only one dealing with the sh*t I’m going through.

How did others discourage you on the way to where you are now?

Ha. By being so much f***ing better than me. I got here and I thought I was the sh*t. It’s the competition – the fact that you’re raised in a place where you’re a black sheep and you get here and you’re among 400 other black sheep. It’s an environmental thing. The student base was so concentrated, it discouraged me.

I didn’t know how to play a major scale when I got here, but because I knew how to play a pentatonic scale on the guitar back home, people just told me to remember them when I was famous. Now, I'm saying that to some of my peers.

Me and my buddy were the only two that went to school for music, and when I got here I realized that maybe I couldn’t do what I wanted. I wanted to be a performer, but I thought maybe I’ll be something else cause I didn't think I was the best performer. I got here and realized that that was okay cause there are so many people involved in roles in music and I could be any of them.

How did you discourage yourself?

Comparison. That’s literally the main one. Being faced with a bunch of peers who are so much further along the musical ladder just because of circumstance. I came here on a $10,000 scholarship and found that a lot of other people deserve that more than me.

It took me a while to realize that there's a spectrum. On the top of the spectrum are the insanely talented prodigies who work extremely hard. They're the best and they'll end up getting rich and probably famous. Then there are the people at the bottom of the spectrum - the ones that don't really have any talent, but also don't work hard to get better. Then there are the people in the middle - these are the people with different levels of talent who put in different amounts of work. For example, if someone in this middle area had a lot of talent, but never worked on it, then someone with slightly less talent who works really hard could easily surpass them. That can be really discouraging, but also motivating, cause even if you think someone is more talented than you, if you work hard you can get to their level.

What about other common issues? Performance anxiety?

For me, not so much performance anxiety. Being judged during a performance, and whether or not your creative thoughts are quality and valid. You want to be validated as a musician for what you do, but it’s not up to you it’s really up to your audience, which can be intimidating. You really gotta learn to trust yourself and be confident with who you are as an artist, cause that's the kind of musician people are attracted to.

What are some myths about being a musician that you can dispel?

That creativity is entirely natural and comes out of nowhere. Creativity isn’t all just inspired, it’s work. It’s a myth that you don’t have to practice. But even I don’t formally practice every day, my friends and I just “practice” every day - we jam. We get better by messing around. Learning music theory will NOT hurt your ability in any way, shape, or form, despite what some ads I've seen say. "Watch this video and you'll be able to write a hit song!" - that's complete crap. You have to learn music theory and songwriting over time, it just won't happen after paying for and watching a twenty minute video.

Another misconception is that all the greats do drugs. All the greats of today are working their a**es off right now and they won’t touch that stuff. Raw talent that you work for, treating your body right. That’s how you get great.

You have to have talent, but you have to work for it, too. You have to know though, that if you don’t have the talent for performing as a musician, there’s no amount of work that could fix that. You have to realize at some point that you can be good at teaching or working in other aspects of the industry, but there is a ceiling for talent.

Have you even seen another musician do something crazy for money?

Mostly I’ve seen people working at places they never thought they’d end up because they’re taking some time to make money before going deep into music. It’s hard to start out, so I have friends, not giving up music, but taking a break from it being their main thing to make some money. It’s kinda sad, but it’s necessary.

How does fame and wealth play into the picture?

Fame doesn’t, wealth does. I’m not trying to get famous, I’m trying to get rich. Well, rich enough to move to a nice suburb and have two kids. I’m trying to support a family of four and have a decent clientel that recommend me to good people. As far as wealth goes, there’s a 1% of society, and there’s gonna be the same in music. There’s musicians living on the street, there are musicians living the high life, and there’s the working man. I could be a worker for the rest of my life and that would be okay as long as I’m happy.

At this point in my college career, straight out of college, I’m expecting to work a shitty job. If I get my current dream job right out of college, I should be able to make rent. (laughs)

What goals have you achieved?

I went to college. Got my high school diploma. Got away from what my parents wanted. I can improvise, which as a kid I thought was the coolest thing ever. I can hit a low D, which in high school I couldn’t even hit an A. It’s the little things.

What do you still want to accomplish? What are your priorities?

I want to be able to get out of college with a job. I want to be able to do what I love with who I love. In five years, I want to have worked with or for someone famous. Or get credits on something big.

I want to save up enough money for a family. Every single day is going to be pointed to, “In the next 10 years, I want to be happy with where my life is”. I want to be happy with who I’m with, where I’m working. Bare bones. My priority is to work until I get to that place.

Where do you see the future of music headed?

At the moment, I see it going back to traditional instruments. Back to the band, back to organic voices. Guitars, saxophones. People have been hearing electronic for the past few years and they want a combination of that and the organic. For the past decade, people have been like, “Wow, synthesizers are so cool!” and like, “Yeah, they are!” but they there are so many more combinations and people are realizing that and making new things. There can always be something new. People are sampling human voices instead of using synthesizers, and it’s so cool.

Will there ever be a new Led Zeppelin or The Beatles? No, cause there is so much access to even more opportunities. There were so many things that you needed then in order to be a success, and now anyone with a laptop can make music. There are sub-genres and smaller populations of audiences, so if you make something it’s like, you have a better chance of finding an audience for it and people that will like what you create, even if it’s really different.

Some really famous, popular composers today are just doing the wrong thing. You can’t stick to one style the whole time. Too much texture, to many cluster chords. It’s hard to understand if there’s only tension and no resolution, especially to non-musicians. A teacher once told me that music is only based on two chords: V and I, tension and release. I like to think of it more as IV and I. There’s only release and home. I like consistency, but you can’t use it all the time.

Where do you see yourself in that future? What is your role?

I’m the person making the talent sound decent. The one that is refining the raw talent. I make other artists sound good.

What’s my title? Artist. You could be an artist of any type. An artist of a performer, an artist of a producer, and artist of a songwriter. I don’t know. I think maybe a producer, producer of sound. Producers are artists. I think as long as I always have that artist side of me, I think I’ll have a role somewhere."

     The role of a musician of today really is that simple - to make others happy while being a happy artist. The same way that people of all walk of life enjoy listening to music, young musicians want to enjoy making their music. Success to millennial musicians is no longer selling out stadiums and going Platinum - the music market is too saturated with talent for every musician to be in the top one percent. Instead, millennial musicians dream of having a purpose in their job, enjoying their career, loving the people around them, and making listeners happy through their work. A simply beautiful role.