#Jeb Bishop

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 4

Alena Spanger

For one day in April, we were transfixed by the sun’s brief disappearance, marveling again at our smallness in the universe, our dependence on a fiery ball in the sky which might, it seems, not be as reliable as we had always assumed.  It was pretty cool, even if you weren’t in the path of totality (what an excellent phrase, by the way), and it distracted everyone for a couple of hours from all the bullshit flooding over the transom.  Which is also one of the main functions of the music we consume so voraciously.  We are always hoping for one or two or many transcendent experiences in these CDRs and tapes and mp3 folders that bombard us, and sometimes, dear reader, we find them.  Here’s this month’s report with Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Alex Johnson, Jonathan Shaw, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers and Bryon Hayes contributing.

Adult Jazz — So Sorry So Slow (Spare Thought)

Hard to believe it’s been 10 years since Adult Jazz’s stunning debut album, Gist Is. Perhaps the title of the Leeds band’s second full-length can be interpreted as an apology to those who have been eagerly awaiting a follow-up. So Sorry So Slow has not only been a long time coming, but also unfolds in fits and starts, as if unsure of the best way forward. It’s convulsive art-pop in the vein of Dirty Projectors or Bjork, with shades of hyper-pop in the digital sharpness of some of its edges, and chamber pop in the prominent employment of strings and horns. The album is most successful when the songs are straightforwardly beautiful, as in “Suffer One,” with its Owen Pallett string arrangement, and closer “Windfarm,” which has a pure, aching, almost New Age glow to it. Elsewhere, the overall lack of focus proves frustrating, and ultimately rather exhausting, across the album’s hour-long runtime. There’s plenty of beauty to be found, you just have to be patient.

Tim Clarke

Jeb Bishop / Tim Daisy / Mark Feldman — Begin, Again (Relay)

Begin, Again welcomes a couple of revenant Chicagoan musicians. Trombonist Jeb Bishop came back to the city after roughly ten years away, and violinist Mark Feldman after about 40. Drummer and vibraphonist  Tim Daisy invited them both to workshop some material in his home studio, and this session resulted. While both Bishop and Daisy wrote pieces, there’s an authentic ensemble feel; this music is very differently balanced than Daisy’s other chamber trio, Vox Arcana. Quick changes in direction and two-on-one dynamics abound, and it’s all enacted with a lightness that gives this music a feeling of floating even when the players are bearing down with serious intent.   

Bill Meyer

Cadence Weapon — Rollercoaster (MNRK)

The first thing you hear on Rollercoaster is a warm strum of acoustic guitar and the mellifluous voice of Bartees Strange. Then Canadian rapper/activist Rollie Pemberton AKA Cadence Weapon takes aim at technological saturation on his new LP Rollercoaster. The hectic production (there are 11 producer credits) mirrors the overwhelming chaos of social media flooded with bots, trolls, ads and misinformation overseen by the bloodless founder of Facebook and X’s fatuous head jester. Hip Hop, electro, RnB and manic hyperpop provide the backdrop to Pemberton’s diatribes which, although they occasionally have an odor of fish-filled barrels, say what needs saying with a maximum of snark and wit. Strange reappears periodically to offer a more organic musical and lyrical counterpoint to the hyperactivity. Pemberton has the awareness to embrace the paradox of working within the system he excoriates which adds an edge to his lyrics. If no-one is innocent and everyone’s throwing stones, Cadence Weapon is at least slinging the sharpest slates.

Andrew Forell  

The Children… — A Sudden Craving (Erototox Decodings)

Michael Wiener describes the music of The Children…, his long-running collaboration with Jim Coleman, Phil Puleo and others, as “gothic blues ambient.” At the height of my concern for tidy iTunes taxonomies, I would’ve been thrilled to think of that. And I’m not being glib: it is apt. One might be tempted to flip the last two words to get the more genre-y “Gothic Ambient Blues,” but Wiener, a Dusted contributor, has the order right. Their latest release, A Sudden Craving, may lead with a loose-hinged “gothic blues,” complete with eerie electronics, possessed voices, disturbed drums and alternately ghostly and shearing guitar chords, but it’s the way the band plays in the looming ambience, the engagement with the persistent presence of space – traced, occupied and ruptured – that ties together the album’s unsettling visions. In its haunted volatility, this can be a viscerally entertaining record and easy to get into, just make sure to carve out enough headroom.

Alex Johnson

Ciro Vitiello — The Island of Bouncy Memories (Haunter x Hundebliss)

Italian producer Ciro Vitiello’s work plays out like a reverie in the liminal space between dream and memory. Ethereal vocals and impressionist lyrics from Russian born singer Zimmy and Italian musician CRÆBABE float on warm wisps of synth and closely miked acoustic guitars. The instrumental tracks have a fractal, dislocated feel as Vitiello layers keyboards and sound effects of water, birds, child’s play and the odd menacing sounds one images hearing in the beast filled fairytale forests of childhood. The mood darkens further on “Sell Change of Heart for a Crocodile” or “Living in a Bouncy Castle” as scratchy disruptions like misfiring synapses interrupt the former as the keyboards swell crepuscular in the background. On the latter, titular castle seems to be deflating slowly, closing in on the occupants in slow motion, the air escaping in big wet bubbles. CRÆBABE closes the album steeped in a lonely haze of romantic and erotic nostalgia. Altogether as lovely and disquieting as the misty maze of memory can be.        

Andrew Forell

Coral Morphologic & Nick León — Projections of a Coral City (Balmat)

Miami duo Coral Morphologic (marine scientist Colin Foord and musician JD McKay) have worked together since 2007 producing projects that raise awareness of threats to marine biodiversity. Their new collaboration with producer Nick León soundtracks a multimedia installation which imagines the rising ocean reclaiming their city and enabling its colonization by resurgent coral reefs. The trio imbues this five-track suite with the tenacity and generative power of coral. An aqueous flow of somber tones dominates, but within them minute lifeforms take shape, coalesce, and spread with a quiet majesty that evokes the fragility of the reefs and inexorable process of survival and regrowth. Projections of a Coral City feels like a requiem, as much for Miami as the damage it has wrought on its environment. Poignant and hopeful it is a fitting tribute to the worlds we are in danger of losing for ever.    

Andrew Forell

Critical Defiance — The Search Won’t Fall (Unspeakable Axe)

Chilean thrash specialists Critical Defiance have delivered the metal record equivalent to a day at a theme park — absent all the waiting around in long lines. There are some long-ish tunes on The Search Won’t Fall (the title track runs close to eight minutes, and album closer “Critical Defiance” clocks in over nine and a half), but you never have to wait, for the next shift in rhythm, usually from fast to really, really fast; the next solo; the next crunching, athletically paced riff. Rollercoaster-scaled ascents and descents? Yep. Tilt-a-Whirl passages of dizzying axe-craft? Check. And the whole thing has the sort of so-bad-for-you-it’s-good sensibility of that extra-large bucket of French fries that came out of a huge bag of frozen shards of spuds, or the funnel cake you watched some tatted-up kid squeeze into a viscid pool of boiling oil of indeterminate age. It’s all hugely entertaining. This reviewer loves it when the songs get short; check out the sequence of “All the Powers” (44 seconds) to “Full Paranoia” (85 seconds) to “Margarita,” in which the record suddenly bottoms out into power-ballad mode. The move is delightfully goofy, a stolen kiss in the Tunnel of Love. It’s an open question if listening to The Search Won’t Fall has any sort of enduring significance, but when the ride is this much fun, who really cares?

Jonathan Shaw

Hässlig — Apex Predator (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Hässlig makes an unhealthily ugly sort of noise that the metal underground has insisted on calling “blackened punk” — a strangely provoking phrase that we seem to be stuck with. This specific iteration of the sound renders the relative kinship to punk neutral (wouldn’t “raw black metal” suffice here?), or perhaps a bit more worrisome. We should note that sole member DB also makes an especially bleak variety of depressive, sometimes doomy black metal under the name Negativa, the band logo of which does an irritating nod-and-wink in the direction of the swastika. So: A Spanish dude who records under a German-sounding band name and makes a record titled Apex Predator? Do we have to do some digging on the internet’s expanding communities of fash-hunting metal listeners? Likely we can take some consolation from Hässlig’s relationship with Sentient Ruin, a label that doesn’t fuck with NSBM nonsense. Unhappy song titles like “Psychopathic Triumph” and “Raping the Exoskeleton of Life” are likely meant to communicate equal-opportunity misanthropy: DB hates everybody. But “Slaves” and “Watch Them Hang” are a more unsavory combo, and it doesn’t help that DB claims Bone Awl and Ildjarn as influences. One wonders if associating the project with punk is a sort of semiotic gambit, hoping to temper some of the more troubling language DB uses (and maybe gets an edge-lord charge out of). It’s all becoming a bit tiresome. This reviewer really enjoys the music on Apex Predator, but by saying so, what is he validating?

Jonathan Shaw

Hour — Ease the Work (Dear Life)

Michael Cormier-O’Leary leads an ensemble of 10 through pensive instrumental reveries in this third full-length as Hour. You might know Cormier-O’Leary from the bands 2nd Grade or Friendship, or from running Dear Life Records. Others playing here have done time in various ambient, folk or mildly experimental outfits, Jason Calhoun, the synth player, in Paper Armies, Elizabeth Fuschia, a violinist in Footings and on the last Bonnie Prince Billy album, Peter Gill from 2nd Grade and drummer Peter McLaughlin from Dead Gowns among others. But the players meld in a very seamless, ego-less way, supporting brief, lovely bits of melody in guitar, strings, percussion, keyboards and, occasionally, electronic samples. The title track ambles nonchalantly, a skittery beat pacing tremulous washes of strings . “Dying of Laughter,” shades a little darker, pitched somewhere between conventional Americana and David Grubbs’ languid improvisations. None of these tracks last very long or stick very well in the limbic system, but Ease the Work is, regardless, a very pleasant way to spend three quarters of an hour.

Jennifer Kelly

Paul Lydon — Umvafin Loforð​un (Pían��)

Paul Lydon is an American who has lived in Iceland since the late 1980s. Throughout that time he’s kept up persistent but low-key recording under the names Blek Ink, Sanndreymi, Paul & Laura and most recently his own name. Over time, the music has changed from brittle, miniature songs to deliberately paced piano instrumentals. As befits a guy who lives his life within cultures, the music on Umvafin Loforð​un (translation: Wrapped Up In Promises) doesn’t slot easily into any genre. While spare, it lacks minimalism’s interest in repetition, and in its quiet way it remains to assertive to be ambient; and while his articulation brings to mind Mulatu Astatke and Alice Coltrane, there’s really no jazz or Ethiopian influence, just a similar respect for the qualities of individual notes. It does give the impression of reflection, as though he’s conversing with himself when he plays, but each piece has a lucidity which suggests that any spontaneous processes are tempered by some compositional pruning. It’s companionable stuff, at the service of those who could use some quiet company.

Bill Meyer

Mandy — Lawn Girl (Exploding in Sound)

Sugar pop melodies nestle into blistering onslaughts of fuzz guitar in this first solo outing from Melkbelly’s Miranda Winters, and maybe what’s interesting here is how a mature artist uses the basic rock and roll tools of her youth.For instance, though a new mom and well past the acne years, Winters casts a jaundiced eye on teenage love in “High School Boyfriend.”The song ends in a drum churning, guitar-busting, cheerleader shouting finale that kicks the whole experience to the curb.Sludgy “Forsythia,” by contrast, acknowledges the distance that Winters has travelled, the experiences she’s had, though that knowledge comes couched in muscular guitar blare.The one cover, of Jimmy Webb’s “I Am a Woman Now,” is acoustic and soft enough that you can hear Winters taking a sniffly breath, but also searing.“Now that I’m a woman, everything has changed,” she murmurs.The sentiment, maybe, but not so much the sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Orgöne — Chimera (3 Palms)

A chimera is a monster constructed of various parts—body of a lion, wings of an eagle, tail like a snake, etc.—and while by no means a monster, this latest LP from the West Coast soul collective Orgöne melds disparate threads into a slinky, funky groove. You can hear, for instance, futuristic fusion jazz, polyrhythmic Latin percussion, Afro-beat, way out soul positivity and psychedelic rock in these cuts, some instrumental, some with chanted vocals. An organ trembles with flickery vibrato, a bass slaps the off beats, a drum cadence saunters shambolically; it’s hot and cold at the same time. Blues-funky “Parasols,” blurts low-end and oozes chill, like Booker T & the MGs, but looser and more discursive. The groove rears up and you expect an old-style soul chorus—Charles Bradley maybe—but the work is done by the instruments, a nattering guitar and a flaring soaring keyboard. “Basilisk” twitches with wah wah and shudders with blasts of bass, not so far off from what the Budos Band does, but “Tula Muisi (Dance with Them)” adds torrid, Afro-beat style vocals. This stuff is fine on the home speakers, but likely much better in the room.

Jennifer Kelly

Polar Inertia — Environment Control (Northern Electronics)

There’s a lot of obscurity surrounding taciturn Parisian techno… artist? project? collective? Polar Inertia, but after a self-described “eight years of silence” they’ve reappeared with a full-length LP (a full hour, even) after previously only releasing EPs and live recordings. As with those EPs, there’s one track with a grim, foreboding spoken word accompaniment and if it puts one in mind of Annihilation at the South Pole, well, following it up with the brain-frying fuzz and throb of “Smothering Dreams” cashes that check immediately. The rest of the album ranges from beatless, dense noise (“Modeless Singularity”) to darkly insistent techno (“Arctic Singularity”) but all with enough of a shared vocabulary and similarly overwhelming, totalizing effect that it all lives up to the end of that opening monologue: “You will soon conceive what polar inertia is. What we do, at our scale, is environment control.”

Ian Mathers

Tomeka Reid / Isadora Edwards / Elisabeth Coudoux — Reid / Edwards / Coudoux (Relative Pitch)

This hour-long, completely improvised performance was captured in August 2021. The trio had played together a few days previously at the third iteration DARA Festival, a gathering of female string players organized by Biliana Voutchkova, so this was not a first encounter, but the trio’s interactions express a still a freshness that could come from players newly falling into a sympathetic union, or simply from the good vibes that tended to suffuse gatherings that post-vaccination, pre-Delta variant surge summer. Tomeka Reid (USA), Isadora Edwards (Chile/UK), and Elisabeth Coudoux (Germany) all play cello, and there’s sufficient consonance within the collective’s approach that time spent trying to figure out who’s who would be wasted. Rather, appreciate the spontaneous counterpoint, astute support, and uncluttered clarity of these four improvisations, which flow easily from rustling quietude to bright, bold cross-hatchings.

Bill Meyer

Sam Rubin — Bullet (Pleasure Tapes/Michi Tapes)

Two bullets, labeled “Bullet” and “Bullet 2” rip through the air on scuzzed-out guitar tone, like shoegaze but dirtier, as a rapturous chaos of drumming erupts and a noxious fog of noise envelopes high wistful vocals.You can taste the grit and sulfur in the air. Sam Rubin raises a lo-fi racket out of Kent, Ohio, letting factory effluents run through fragile melodies, corroding them, poisoning them and coaxing a poisoned beauty from the wreck. From the heart of Red America, Rubin launches “Trump,” a slow-motion, gut-shock of lumbering chords and feedback, but the best songs are about firearms.“Sniper Rifle” closes things out with Swans-ish clangor, guitar, drums, bass, all jumping on the downbeat, repeatedly, like a metal stamper gone amok in a post-apocalyptic heartland. Good stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

SAICOBAB — NRTYA (Thrill Jockey)

NRTYA by SAICOBAB

Japanese quartet SAICOBAB douses Indian raga in accelerant and showers it with sparks, creating an amorphous and fiery mix of traditional and contemporary sounds. Vocalist YoshimiO (Boredoms, OOIOO) both leads and chases the melodies proffered by sitarist Yoshida Daikiti. The two are engaged in a whirling quickstep (NRTYA is Sanskrit for “dance”) over the polyrhythmic pulsations of Motoyuki Hamamoto and Yojiro Tatekawa (Boredoms). The four musicians apply a hyperkinetic avant-rock slant to the traditionally placid raga format, emphasizing both rhythmic and melodic movement. YoshimiO’s extremely broad vocal range helps the music leap into the fourth dimension, and subtle electronic flourishes offer a glimpse into SAICOBAB’s futuristic worldview. With NRTYA, SAICOBAB challenges tradition, as the group’s infectious energy fractures the boundaries of both time and space.

Bryon Hayes

Alena Spanger — Fire Escape (Ruination)

Fire Escape by Alena Spanger

Alena Spanger’s voice is small, soft and very brave, as she ventures out of the shelter of prettiness into the wider world of dissonance and experiment. The singer made her first mark in Tiny Hazard, a Brooklyn art-music ensemble that similarly tested the boundaries of pop. Here in her debut solo album, she coos and hums and trills against a shifting background of baroque experiment; she lets us in, engagingly, into strange and wonderful places. “All that I Wanted,” for instance, pits a wild splatter-beat of tonal percussion, against a wispy pop anthem. “All I wanted is to dance with you,” she declares, in true diva pop style, against surging synths—but wait for it, the tune disintegrates into a soup of off-kilter fragments and spasmic beats. Spanger has some of Joanna Newsom’s wiry fragility, a way of infusing melody with intelligence and conflict, and she surrounds herself with Brooklyn avant-garde-ists, like Kalia Vandever on trombone in “My Feel,” Kitba’s Rebecca El-Saleh and harp and the critic Winston Cook-Wilson on keys and percussion. Ryan Weiner, who was also in Tiny Hazard, plays, engineers and mixes. But in the end, it comes down to one Alena Spanger, with the girlish voice and the voracious appetite for innovation. She can make a Satie reference sound like a sweet confessional ditty and a fire escape stand in for the soft, comforting edge of experiment.

Jennifer Kelly

Sunburned Hand of the Man — Nimbus (Three Lobed)

Nimbus by Sunburned Hand of the Man

Nimbus is Sunburned Hand of the Man at peak fidelity.Imagine Ken Kesey’s Furthur bus tuned up, cleaned up and given a fresh coat of DayGlo.The album also spans multiple iterations of the ever-mutating Sunburned line-up.Original member Phil Franklin returns after a multi-year hiatus, bringing his Franklin’s Mint songcraft with him; long-time associate Matt Krefting appears, offering a sinister spoken word monologue as the band writhes beneath.Poet and new Sunburned member Peter Gizzi unravels his verses over a pair of synth-heavy tunes: both the loping title track and the intense “Consider the Wound” benefit from his wry deadpan.The rest of the tracks are fare for those yearning for the Sunburned of yore, full of lysergic introspection and hedonistic grooves.Even at their cleanest, Sunburned Hand of the Man are weird and wild to the very core.     

Bryon Hayes

[willowhaired]

Fresh Start

Jeb Pyre × Reader

Summary: After shutting the case of the Lafferty brothers, Jeb finds it difficult to find his place in the church - so much so that he divorces his wife and starts anew in Boulder, Colorado. What he didn't expect was a pretty evidence handler at the Boulder PD.

(Please note that in this story Jeb has no children.)

Word count: 3,381

Warnings: mentions of religion, swearing, a bit steamy but nothing explicit

After shutting the case, Jeb tried his best to re-integrate into his community. To at least "sing the song", even if he no longer believed the words, as his partner suggested - but he was still eyed with suspicion and the forceful kindness of his fellow churchgoers became sickening. He felt as if he was tested, and they pressured him into recanting his beliefs at every opportunity. It was the worst with his wife who got him promising he'd stay faithful to the church whenever she felt uneasy, which was more often than he liked. He could see her mind turn whenever they were in the same room as if he was under constant surveillance. It angered him, but he knew showing it would throw him into a pit even deeper.

Things in the bedroom were terrible. Beca was insistent on conceiving, and he didn't blame her for it. He knew what it meant to her. Still, he was growing tired of having sex - a thing which he'd never thought was possible for a man. Somehow, whatever trick or new lingerie his wife would try just made him desire her even less. Whenever he couldn't perform, he'd blame it on work, but that opened a whole can of worms he didn't want to talk about. Arguments were frequent and even calm days were disturbed at least by a quarrel.

He got out when his mother passed. By then, the tension was palpable, not only in his marriage, but in the church. Eyes were even wider and glued to him - they expected him to turn to his faith in a time of need as such.

But he finally felt free. He divorced his wife, leaving her in shame, and the bishop was quick to retaliate by excommunicating him.

He was finally free.

He moved to Boulder, Colorado, to escape his own home, the cocoon. It was only natural that Taba followed him.

'You could stay, you know?' Jeb said one day as they were having lunch together. He bought fries.

'And be left in the snake pit alone? Not a chance.'

It made Jeb smile. He'd never conceal the amount of relief this gave him. Because he was afraid. As much as he wanted to get out, the newness of the "outside world" scared him. To have his friend by his side on this new journey gave him hope.

They both got a job at the Boulder Police Department and Jeb quickly became a favourite among his superiors and fellow officers. With no family and a pain to drown, he was always first to apply for night shifts, weekends, especially holidays. He poured his all into work.

'You are becoming a bit of a workaholic,' Bill noted on one Christmas Eve. There was a snowstorm outside, unlike anything else he had seen in Utah.

'You are here with me every time,' Jeb pointed out, watching the wind raging outside.

'Yes, but I'm not staying overtime,' his partner adjusted himself in his seat. It was getting to him not being able to smoke because of the crazy weather. 'Besides, you're young. You should find yourself someone.'

'I have you.'

'I'm flattered, but I don't like you like that,' Taba chuckled but was met with the mortified stare of his fellow detective. A lifetime of conditioning is difficult to weed out.

'What I'm saying is,' he started again. 'This is a new town. Maybe there's someone who tickles your fancy.'

Jeb honestly doubted that. He didn't find anyone interesting, and even if he had, he wouldn't be ready to open up.

That was until you came along.

You were the new evidence handler, archiving and organising everything the officers brought along, let it be testimonies or physical evidence. You were young and sweet which didn't sit right with him: he didn't want you to look at all the darkness that was out there in the world. He reckoned you should be protected from it, living in a bubble, not having your delicate features be degraded away by the horrors.

But above all, you were incredibly attractive. He saw other police officers trying to charm you or readily offer their help whenever there was an evidence box that "looked a little too heavy". Even Bill got into a harmless banter with you on occasion - you were easy on the eyes, he said, and Jeb agreed, though not out loud.

He could feel his heart in his throat whenever you passed by, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever you arrived at work. Looking at you felt like a sin.

It just so happened that the two of you were very similar. Even if it meant staying longer, you'd get all the handwritten notes typed in, each piece of evidence filed away correctly. Before leaving, you cleaned your desk, despite it being a catastrophe the whole day.

It was a Thursday night and the detective was about to leave to check out a crime scene. On his way out, he spotted you, at your desk, still lost in paperwork. He checked the clock and then outside: it was already dark.

'It's getting late,' he announced as he stepped to you.

'Oh, it's alright,' you shrugged. 'Just a few more things to file away.'

He contemplated for a second before turning to a young officer:

'Deputy Jones, when Miss Y/L/N is done with her work could you give her a ride home?'

'That's really not necessary,' you knew you were blushing and you didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone.

''Course, Sir,' Deputy Jones said without hesitation. Jeb nodded to the deputy and left you with an "Evening" and completely confused.

That night, he could not sleep. He worried you might not have been escorted home, or worse, took a liking to the young deputy. He should've taken you home himself.

Even though he was head over heels for you, you got the impression that he did not like you. He was cold, distant and you'd never seen him smile in your presence. When he dropped off any evidence, he seemed as though he was trying to escape the soonest possible.

'Five forged checks and interrogation of two witnesses,' you scanned through the documents on your desk, then flashed a warm smile at him. 'Anything else?'

'No, thank you,' he replied quickly, his mouth more crooked than ever.

You watched him walk to his office. It was a shame, really, upsetting, even. For one, you never gave any reason for him to hate you, and besides… You found him incredibly handsome.

He was eyeing you from his office, sometimes glancing in the direction of Jones, even though it was a few weeks after that incident. Jeb made it a point to avoid you, but couldn't fool his partner.

'I don't blame you for liking her,' he flipped the page in the folder of their current case. 'I would be surprised if you didn't.'

'I've never felt this way,' Jeb admitted nervously. His friend had a smug grin on his face before it turned serious.

'Look, you should make your move soon. Nobody is blind in this department.'

It was this conversation that ultimately pushed him to ask you out. It was a few days later, and all of your colleagues had left already. You were still finishing up some tasks and he tried to do his own, but his nerves wouldn't let him concentrate. Finally, he gave in.

'Are you staying for longer?' Jeb had to swallow for he felt like his throat was going to close up.

'No, I'm packing away for tonight.'

'Do you… Need a ride home?' He asked, then quickly added: 'I can take you.'

'Oh, I… Don't wanna cause you any trouble,' you chuckled nervously and pushed the last folder to its place.

'I insist.'

'Well, okay,' you gave in sheepishly and grabbed your coat.

The drive home was even more awkward, if possible. You tried to strike up a conversation but he hardly replied. He sat stiffly behind the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. He parked just outside your apartment complex.

'You know, Detective Pyre, you don't have to take me home.'

'I just like to know you're safe.'

'Anyway,' you said quickly over the sound of your loud heartbeat. 'Thank you for the ride.'

You were about to step out of the car when he blurted out:

'Can I take you out for dinner sometime?'

You turned back and were muted by surprise.

'You can say no if you don't want to,' he felt as if he was being suffocated by his own tie so he pulled it looser.

'Yes,' you hurried your answer. 'This Saturday?'

'Perfect. Pick you up at 7.'

Friday, he was a mess. If it was possible, he avoided contact with you even more which left you doubting he ever asked you out. The truth was, he didn't know how to react. You made him feel such emotions he was unfamiliar with; was he supposed to just wave at you as he passed by when he felt his insides burning with the heat of a thousand suns?

'Bill, I need your help,' Jeb closed the door of their office behind him. 'I'm taking Y/N on a date tomorrow.'

'Does she know?' His partner teased, but as Jeb replied with such exasperation, he knew this was no time for jokes.

'Of course!'

'So you finally asked her out. What do you need me for?'

'I'm nervous,' he leant to his desk and pulled his hand across his face. 'I can't even look at her.'

Bill glanced out towards you: 'I think she looks pretty, still.'

'Don't do that,' his friend begged defeatedly.

'Jeb,' Bill looked at him. 'Do me a favour and relax. Just be yourself.'

'What if the church thing freaks her out? What if I make a fool of myself?'

'There's no way around it, pal,' he shrugged. 'Sooner or later, she will know. Don't worry, I haven't seen her eat anyone. Try and enjoy it.'

It was easier said than done.

Jeb knew he was done for right as he picked you up on Saturday. You had a black dress on that hugged your body, and your shoulders were bare for you had your hair in a bun. Inside of him was a raging battle between what his former church made him think about your attire and what he felt. He was hoping he could forget about both, and most importantly not mention his past, but it was unavoidable.

'No, I… I have never drunk.'

'You haven't?' You asked in disbelief. 'Surely you were a teenager at some point.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'I grew up in a very strict church. Alcohol was forbidden.'

'So it wasn't the kinda wine tasting that disguised itself as Sunday church, huh?' You joked. 'Are you still part of this church? Should I not drink?'

'No, no,' he shook his head. 'I was excommunicated. I no longer hold those beliefs.'

'So…' you swirled the wine around in your glass. 'Why don't you drink?'

'I guess old habits die hard.'

'Do you want a taste? It's sweet wine. If you like lemonade, you're gonna love this.'

You held your glass towards him and he took you up on your offer. His movements were sheepish, almost fearful as he held the glass to his lips and took a small sip. It really was sugary, with an uncanny resemblance to the way he felt about you: sweet but intoxicating. Throughout the dinner you shared a few glasses, most of which you drank, but he was finally easing up by the alcohol. Jeb felt his stomach warm from the wine; he was more comfortable with his feelings towards you, while also finding it harder to keep them in control. Your eyes seemed even more alluring and your cheeks were tinted red from the alcohol. He found it cute and smiled dumbly at you throughout the whole night; and honestly, with him opening up, you really enjoyed yourself. Not only that, you realised that you did actually like him: he was kind and wholesome and made such intelligent remarks you knew he was listening to your every word. You joked and gently poked his hand and his eyes lit up like a teenage boy's. He tried to (very seriously) pick out the notes of the wine, only to add at the end that it mostly just smelled like alcohol. He accidentally kicked you under the table and you teased him whether you were getting friendly.

You had your fingers crossed that the effects of the wine would stretch into the workdays.

But apparently, you spoke too soon.

'Thank you for the night, Jeb, I really enj…' you could barely open your mouth when he stopped the car at your home, and his lips were on yours. His left hand came up from the gearshift to cup your face as his quick, eager kiss was followed by a deeper one. You leant closer to him and rested your hand on his thigh. You got so lost in the sensations (the scent of his cologne, how his tongue explored your mouth against yours, or how it ran across your lips every once in a while), that you didn't know how much time had passed. Was it minutes or half an hour?

'I'm sorry,' he broke away abruptly. 'I can't do this.'

You couldn't really comprehend his words.

'I… I don't think I'm ready for this,' he followed, seeing your puzzled expression.

'We can take it slower,' you chuckled.

'It's not about that,' his body was turned away from you. 'I can't be with you.'

Honestly, this left you in shock. You don't remember if you said anything or just left the car - the whole thing didn't make sense. He was the one asking you out, the date went well, he came in for a kiss… Which was amazing.

You were confused, and above all, hurt. You thought that there must've been something so wrong with you for him to turn you down like this.

When Jeb told Bill about the date, his friend's first excitement died away as he heard how the night ended.

'What's wrong with you?' Bill asked, almost angrily. 'That date was going great and you chose to close it like a teen girl who hasn't fucked before?'

'Language!' The other hissed.

'That girl likes you. You come to me worried you'd screw up the date but you did it in such a way I would've never imagined.'

'It's not easy, Bill. I was raised to believe everything I've just done is a sin. Even though I no longer think the same, I…' he ran his fingers through his hair. 'Can't help but feel that it's wrong.'

His partner seized him up, sighing out the frustration he felt.

'I guess I understand. You do what you feel comfortable with. But she'd be good for you.'

But would I be good for her - Jeb pondered, staring at the papers in front of him.

That was until an office party: his colleagues pressured him into beer after beer, so he'd already had more than he should've. Then, you arrived - late, but no less beautiful. The cream dress you had on was a lot more modest than the form-fitting one you had on during the date, yet its satin fabric draped on your body perfectly. You looked better than ever, which he never thought was possible: your smile was charming and your eyes twinkled in the decorative lights - though he couldn't help but notice that you carefully avoided his direction.

The other officers were quick to bring you your favourite drink and they'd made it a competition who would make you laugh louder. Hearing your chuckles turned his blood bitter, and he kept shifting between chewing the inside of his mouth and adjusting his lips.

'And you, Detective Pyre? Anyone special?' A fellow officer asked.

'Who? Me?' He said, half-stupefied, then chuckled, his eyes on the table. 'No, no one.'

To be fair, since the failed date, you had been avoiding him just as he did with you. You gave a cryptic description of the date to your friends, and your colleagues knew nothing of the encounter: they merely concluded that Jeb's past hunted him, and that's why he was so uncomfortable in your presence.

Maybe they were closer to the truth than anyone thought.

You accompanied some officers out for a cigarette; you were craving some fresh air and the cold of the night on your cheeks. You borrowed a cigarette from Detective Taba to take the edge off.

'You, dear, look prettier every day,' he took a long drag from his cigarette after lighting yours. 'Is there a gentleman you saw before coming here?'

'Nah,' you smiled sheepishly as if the suggestion itself was ridiculous. 'I was looking after an old relative and my cousin arrived late to take over.'

'Don't act so innocent,' he scorned with a grin and gestured with his cigarette. 'I bet you make every man turn anywhere you walk by.'

He wasn't wrong: you only had to take some letters to the post office to come back with a date for the next day, but lately, all you had on your mind was the kiss from a certain detective. Even at work, especially after seeing him, your thoughts would slip from your grip to morph into his firm grip on your waist or the unmatching tenderness of his lips. You'd mistyped witness names and found that you had catalogued a set of crime scene photographs into the wrong folder. You were incredibly embarrassed, despite the officers only laughing at these mishaps, reassuring you that they happened more often than ever with you.

So, you avoided Jeb's eyes, knowing that their dark brown colour would melt you right on sight.

Even though Bill was nudging him every ten minutes to go up to you, Jeb couldn't bring himself to do it. All night, he had been imagining how your dress would fall from your shoulders if he'd unzipped it and how soft your skin would feel under it - softer than the satin itself, he was sure.

The air of the venue grew heavy with each passing minute. Jeb resolved to peel the stickers from the beers, while you were constantly entertained by at least two of your coworkers. They were all respectful, although sometimes a bit loud. You needed a few moments of peace; so you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once on your way back, you bumped into him.

'Hey,' you forced a smile.

'How you're doing?'

'Good, good. And you?'

'Pretty wasted,' Jeb admitted with a chuckle and after a brief pause (during which he stared long into your eyes and your legs began to feel like jello), he brushed a few hairs that got stuck in your mouth behind your ear. You got a whiff of his cologne, something you only caught once or twice when he brought evidence bags to your table. It always left you spellbound.

'I'm so sorry about that night.'

'Don't be,' you said. 'It was an amazing date.'

Jeb was only half-there, his thumb brushed the edge of your lip.

'Until the end I suppose,' he said dreamily, as if not even to you.

'Do you like me?' You asked abruptly.

'I'm fucking mad about you.'

His answer threw your head in a spin. You grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss which he reciprocated with a groan. His hands quickly found the small of your back from which one ran up into your hair. Unconsciously, he gripped a handful of your locks to pull your head back and give him better access to your lips. You were rendered weak with a wave of emotion but this very same thing reminded you where you were and that any second colleague could appear.

You cupped his face and gently pulled away.

'Maybe this is not the best place…'

'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'I want to make it up to you. Please, let me take you on another date.'

'I'm free on Sunday.'

'Well, not anymore.'

[amurih]

Well guys I got both the Cult of the Lamb and Lethal Company daydream/brainrot. Mostly it’s the 4 Bishops, Narinder, and The Lamb in place of the workers.

I wanna say that Leshy could be on monitor duty, but it’s funnier if Shamura is doing the cams and teleport duty. Sometimes they wander out of the ship and get got by dogs or forest spirits. Other times he would follow with the group to the bunkers. If he did join in the bunker runs they would get lost in there.

While Leshy, being the chaos bug that he is, likes to try and blow up the others or ring the bell so much to piss off Jeb. He would also be the one to go find the wasp nest and put the wasps into the ship.

Kallamar is not having a good time with having to deal with monsters. Big screamer and runs away while forgetting to pick up loot. I’m crying just thinking about this guy get got by the ghost girl. Or the worm.

Heket gets left behind a lot due to her not being able to call out to the rest in full sentences. She is efficient when it comes getting things done. She gets mad at Kallamar when he’s not transporting the goods back to the ship. She would fight all of those hoarding bugs just to keep all her loot.

Narinder situation is a 50/50 toss up of whether or not he’s gonna help the team or try and sabotage it. He would put on the mask. He would come into the ship, convince Shamura that the rest of the team was dead and that they need to leave.

Lamb does their job, and does it well. Will try and kill all the monsters with the shovels. Grab all the loot. Sometimes will fall to their death. Lightning strikes from the full inventory that is metal objects.

[backtothefanfiction]

The Secrets We Keep | Part Two

Summary: Jeb is trying to work out the new normal for his life.

Warnings: mature, religious trauma, LDS, broken family, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Just trying to do what I can to fill the hole in the fandom. Enjoy

Two

It was a long drive back to East Rockwell but he had to do it. He had promised. For the sake of his girls, the reputation of his wife, they had to keep up appearances. They had told everyone at the congregation that because of his recent expertise, he had been poached by a station in Idaho to consult for a few weeks. On Saturday mornings he’d get up before sunrise and make the long drive back, just in time for some afternoon games with his girls before dinner, followed by their usual wind down routine; a calming evening activity such as reading or coloring. They would then start their bedtime routines, getting washed, putting their pajamas on, then they would all do evening prayers before they got tucked into bed.

Jeb was grateful whenever one of the girls excitedly asked to lead prayers, to show off to him how much better they were getting at it without him there during the week. It also meant he didn’t have to fake his way through it. He could still fumble the words, recite the old basic thanks from memory, but he still wanted his girls’ belief to mean something.

“Heavenly Father, thank you for my family. Thank you for bringing Daddy home safely. Thank you for giving him the tools to do his job well so we can have all of our nice things, such as sally doll and our bicycles and-“

“Caroline, honey.” Rebecca chastised softly when their daughter began to go off on a tangent.

“Yes, sorry.” she replied before getting back on track.

Once prayers were said, he and Rebecca would take a child each, carrying them to their shared bedroom and place them in their respective beds. They’d tuck them in, kiss them on the tops of their heads, before swapping and doing double checks on the covers and another forehead kiss to the other child. Rebecca would always check the kids night light, whilst he waited in the doorway. Then the moment his wife had left the room, he would whisper one last “good night”, before quietly closing the door.

Rebecca would always then turn and give him this look. The ‘are you ready to go back to how things used to be?’ look. But he didn’t even know what that was anymore. He’d give her a small shake of his head before silently moving through the house to his Mother’s old room, which now had become his.

He hadn’t been in it often enough to redecorate it. He also knew the moment he did the girls would soon get very suspicious about why his things were suddenly in there and not their Grandmothers. They had been doing everything they could to keep it from the girls in hopes that one day they would sort it out. That this would just be a blip on the long record of their marriage; but as the weeks went on, with every Sunday Service he sat through, his mind dissociating as the Bishop talked, he felt more and more like his marriage was over. She’d never leave the church and he’d never find his faith again, at least not in the way he once had.

“Ahh Jeb, good to see ya.” Tom said, shaking his hand.

“Likewise, likewise.” Jeb said, feigning a smile as he shook the older gentleman’s hand as they came out of the church.

“Hope they’re not gonna keep ya too much longer up there in potato country.”

Jeb bristled. He and Rebecca hadn’t discussed next steps yet, but he couldn’t hide the fact he had actually transferred permanently from everyone forever. “Umm actually, I’m thinking about staying up there you know. A position just became available and I think I’m gonna take it.” Jeb lied, his tongue feeling heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth.

“What, really? Rebecca never said anything about moving.” Tom said.

“We’re still discussing it.” Jeb blinked as he continued to lie, his head turning to scout for his wife’s whereabouts and if she was in ear shot before he continued the conversation. He was grateful when he saw her talking to Judy and Elizabeth on the other side of the front lawn as all of the kids had a quick run around together to let off some steam, before they all went back to Janice’s house for afternoon tea and cake.

“Well, it’d be a real shame to lose you all.” Tom continued as Jeb’s attention turned back to the older man.

“Yes. Yes.” Jeb said to him with a small tight lipped smile. “Umm anyway Tom, if you’d excuse me.” Jeb said, beginning to back away.

“Yes, of course, of course.” Tom said before turning to join a group of men chatting as Jeb made his way over to his wife.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jeb asked as he interrupted Rebecca’s conversation with Judy and Elizabeth.

“Hi, Jeb.” Judy greeted him kindly.

“Hi. Hello.” he said with a small smile and waved to each of the women, before guiding Rebecca a few steps away with a hand to her back.

“What? What is it?” Rebecca asked him when they were out of earshot of the rest of the congregation.

“I think I’m gonna go back early.” He told her.

“What?” she frowned.

“It’s just, it gets dark early and they’re saying there's gonna be a snow storm and I don’t want to be driving all night in it. Plus, I’ve gotta be in the station early tomorrow and I don’t wanna-”

She put a hand up to stop him. “I get it Jeb, I get it.” she said, but her tone was anything but cordial. “But, what about the girls, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“I’ll deal with that.” he said looking downcast, his hand shifting on his hip.

“Jeb.” she tried to reason.

“It’s fine.”

She shook her head. Said “No.” but he had made up his mind. Be damned the image they were trying to project. He loved his kids but being here was too much. He wanted to go back to his little motel room, put the TV on and sit in peace. To check out and forget for just a little bit before another day of work tomorrow.

“Girls, come here.” he said, turning away from Rebecca and calling out to his children. He bent down to their level as they approached him. He reached out for Annie, pulling her closer to him by the back of her head and placing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, but Daddy’s gonna have to leave early okay-”

“But-” Caroline began to whine.

“Caroline.” he chastised, dragging out her name.

“Fine.” she huffed as she avoided looking at him, her body swaying from side to side.

“I wish I could stay but I need to drive back. The weatherman said it was gonna snow and Daddy doesn’t want to have an accident, okay?”

“Okay.” they both grumbled in unison.

“I love you both okay?”

“I love you too, Daddy.” they both said as they both leaned in to wrap their arms around him and give him a hug.

“I’ll see you both next weekend okay. If the weather’s okay I’ll try and come back Friday night. How does that sound?” he said. He knew he was probably giving them false hope but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing the looks on his girls' faces whenever he told them he had to go.

“When can we come with you?” Caroline brazenly asked him.

“What? Caroline.” Jeb said, turning towards her.

“I want to go with you.” she said.

“Yes but sweetie, all your friends are here and Mommy’s here.”

“Yeah, but you’re not here.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he said, reaching a hand out to her, his thumb brushing tenderly across her soft cold cheek.

“Come on girls, time to go, it’s getting cold.” Rebecca called out to them. “Todd and Lisa have offered to give me and the girls a lift to Janice’s house and Michael said he’d drive us back home afterwards.”

“Are you sure, I mean I can drive you there before I go.” Jeb tried to say but Rebecca shook her head.

“No, I think it’ll be easier on the girls just to say goodbye now, okay.”

“Okay.” he reluctantly agreed.

“Girls, say goodbye.” Rebecca said.

They gave him one last hug and he reassured them again that he’d call every evening and be back next weekend before Rebecca ushered them towards Todd and Lisa’s car. They were a young couple. Not long married, still trying for their first baby and sending up prayers with the congregation every sunday for a speedy conception. Jeb gave them a small wave and a silent thanks, watching from the side of the road as they all climbed into the car and drove off, leaving him waving aimlessly to Caroline through the back window.

————————————————

The whole drive back he felt awful, his stomach in knots from his lies. The looks on his little girls’ faces as he told them he was leaving again. He wondered how long he and Rebecca could drag this out for.

The weather indeed had started to change two thirds of the way through his journey. He had stopped at a gas station to relieve himself and pick up a snack and drink for the road and on his way back out of the lot, it had started to snow. By the time he’d made it back into town it was turning into a blizzard.

He turned onto the town square, driving around the short one way system. It was like a ghost town, everyone inside away from the cold weather. Most of the businesses in town didn’t usually open on a Sunday anyway but he wasn’t surprised to find that the ones that were usually open had closed up early. All except one. He watched as the coffee shop lights were turned off as he approached before a figure stepped outside, fingers fumbling with the keys as she tried to lock the door. He slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the window.

“Hey, do you need a lift home?” He found himself asking.

She turned her head, searching for the source of the disembodied voice. She couldn’t help but smile to herself upon realising who sat inside the awaiting car. Jeb Pyre. Like a knight in shining armour. “Are you sure?” She asked cautiously as she approached the car.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen this weather? Anyone would be out of their mind not to offer.”

She smiled as he leaned over to open the door from the inside, encouraging her to take the offer. She shivered, letting out a little ‘brrrrr’ sound as she shook off the cold, her hands rubbing together.

“Here.” He said, leaning over to turn one of the heater jets in her direction, her hands instantly moving to search out the warmth.

“Thanks.” She said as he made a turn back off the square in the direction he supposed she lived from the direction she’d been coming from when they spoke a week prior.

“Ummm, where am I headed to?” He asked politely.

“Oh, I live on Fleeshman Street.” Goldie said cheerily.

“Fleeshman Street…” Jeb repeated, wracking his brain.

“Do you know where the library is?” She asked helpfully.

“Yes.” He said back softly.

“Okay, well head that way and I’ll direct you from there.”

“Okay.” He agreed with a small smile as he looked over to her in the passenger seat and then back to the road. “Does it normally snow this bad, this time of year?” He asked after a short pause.

“Sometimes. I mean, we do normally get snow in the winter but this is the first big snow storm we’ve had in a couple years, I’d say.”

“Okay.” He nodded, taking in the information. “How come you were still open so late?”

“Our managers a bit of a dick- oh sorry umm…” she wracked her brain for a less offensive word, but was surprised when he turned and said to her that it was fine. She looked at him sceptically. “Oookaay.” She said dragging the word out before turning back to look out the front windscreen as she continued her sentence. “Anyway, our manager doesn’t believe the weatherman. He’s a slightly older gentleman, kind of lonely and grumpy and really hates the TV, like with a passion. Seriously, don’t get that man started, he’ll rant about it for hours.”

“Okay, duley noted.” Jeb smirked.

“Bet there’s not much crime on a day like today.” She fished, looking to fill the silence that could so easily fall between them.

“You’d be surprised.” He said with a small chuckle and knowing twinkle in his eye, but as Goldie trailed her eyes down from his face to his attire she quickly realised he wasn’t dressed for work.

“But you haven’t been at work.” She quickly said, correcting herself with a slight scowl.

“Look at you, detective.” He joked with a smile. “What gave me away?”

“Your Sunday best.” It was an old suit now, but she had seen it on him in the past, back in the days she still took her Mother to church. She looked around at the couple of bits of rubbish dumped around the car, a carrier bag from a gas station closer to their home town in the back. She frowned as she asked, “Have you just driven all the way back from Rockwell in this?”

He was saved from explaining at the sight of the library approaching on the left hand side of the road. “Where am I going from here?” He asked deflecting.

“Take the next right up here.” She replied, pointing at the street in question, “My street is about halfway down on the left.” She filled in as she continued to scrutinise him and the inside of his car.

They remained silent as he took the right and then the left onto Fleeshman Street. “Where abouts-“

“Just in front of that silver car there.” She said.

Jeb quietly pulled into the space in front of the half snow covered silver car. They sat in awkward silence as the car idled. Goldie nibbled nervously at her lip before she broke the silence. “Umm, thanks for the lift.”

“Oh, no problem.” He promptly replied.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you around.” Goldie said as she reached for the door handle to let herself out.

“Yes, I’ll see you around.”

She had one foot out the door when she froze, turning back to him, taking a quick glance at the food packets and back to him again. “Would you like to come in for something proper to eat? I mean least I can do after you drove me home is sort you out with a proper meal.”

Jeb swallowed deeply, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck as he contemplated the offer. “Iii- uhhhh,” he began to say, “I umm should be getting back. I don’t want to accidentally get snowed in.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” She said in a quiet rush as she finally pulled herself from the car.

“Goldie-“ his voice called out as she was about to slam the door shut. “Maybe another time.” He suggests and she smiles, a halo of streetlights and snow glowing around her under his gaze and promise of a next time.

“Okay, Jeb Pyre. You’re on.”

[distressedwalnut]

Ok made a cotl au?-

ok what if (hear me out on diss-) what if the the main Madcom crew were bishops in this Au and Y/N is the lamb-

I have burn outs-

That sounds pretty interesting! Doc as Shamura, Sanford as Kallamar, Hank as Heket, and Deimos as Leshy! Though that raises the question of who would be TOWW? My first thought was Tricky or Jeb but none of them really seem to match the part? Well not Tricky at least, Jeb maybe. And yeah Y/N beating up the purgatory main 4 and then immediately marrying them like "Welcome! You're my wife now."

[cagliostrohq]

Glitz Blitz Results!

The kingdom's first, royal-sanctioned combat tournament has come to an end! Listed below are all all muses who commented under the event post and/or have published a self-para. They were placed into an online tournament simulator, in order to get computer randomized match-ups and their results. The following results are what happened after the first three "freebie rounds" where muns could write the outcomes of their own match-ups. The combatants of each fight are listed first, followed by the randomized winner bolded in all caps! If you didn't comment in time or have recently joined, your muse can still have participated in the Glitz Blitz. They could have fought NPCs in each bracket until they lost a round. (The highest bracket these muses could've canonically reached without participating in the event is up to Bracket 5, where they must have lost to an NPC to avoid skewing the event's results.)

PARTICIPANTS: Val, Min, Jeb, Gabs, Skeet, Daeneryn, Renato, Petyr, M. Offman, Jackie, Ulysses, Bishop, Elia, Dottie, Khione, Simon, Danny, Elrich, Rook, Ludmila, Wallace

Bracket 3 Jeb VS Val: JEB Dottie VS Rook: DOTTIE Elia VS Min: ELIA Khione VS Gabs: KHIONE Ulysses VS Renato: ULYSSES Bishop VS Daeneryn: BISHOP Danny VS Simon: DANNY Elrich VS Moffman: ELRICH Petyr VS Jackie: PETYR Ludmila VS Wallace: LUDMILA

Bracket 4 Dottie VS Jeb: DOTTIE Khione VS Ulysses: KHIONE Bishop VS Danny: BISHOP Elrich VS Elia: ELRICH Petyr VS Ludmila: PETYR

Bracket 5 Dottie VS Khione: DOUBLE KNOCKOUT - NO WINNER, BOTH DISQUALIFIED Bishop VS Petyr: BISHOP Elrich VS NPC: ELRICH

Bracket 6

Elrich VS Bishop: ELRICH

CHAMPION

Elrich Speedwagon, last one standing!

However, the royals interrupt what is believed to be his hard-earned victory to add a twist: an underdog knocked out from the previous rounds may be brought back by the people’s choice, and may duel him for the championship title.

[clubw71]

Konzertliste Peter Brötzmann

Gerade schickt mir Bachi die Liste mit den Konzerten von Peter Brötzmann im Club. Hier ist die Zeitreise:

Konzerte mit Peter Brötzmann im club w71 (und im KULT) 29.1.1982 Peter Brötzmann / Willi Kellers 3.6.1983 Peter Brötzmann / Johannes Bauer / Keith Tippett / Willi Kellers 9.9.1984 Peter Brötzmann / Peter Kowald / Andrew Cyrille (im Rathauskeller, der club w71 war damals abgebrannt) 18.2.1989 Peter Brötzmann / Jay Oliver / Willi Kellers 8.9.2000 Peter Brötzmann / Shoji Hano / Megumu Nishino 6.11.2002 Peter Brötzmann / Conny Bauer / William Parker / Paul Lovens 17.6.2003 Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet: Joe McPhee / Jeb Bishop / Ken Vandermark / Mats Gustafsson / Mars Williams / Peter Brötzmann / Fred Lonberg-Holm / Kent Kessler / Michael Zerang / Hamid Drake (im KULT) 17.12.2005 Peter Brötzmann / Han Bennink 22.5.2006 Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet: Peter Brötzmann / Mats Gustafsson / Ken Vandermark / Joe McPhee / Johannes Bauer / Per-Ake Holmlander / Fred Lonberg-Holm / Kent Kessler / Michael Zerang / Paal Nilssen-Love (im KULT) 23.9.2006 Sonore: Peter Brötzmann / Mats Gustafsson / Ken Vandermark 13.9.2008 Hairy Bones: Peter Brötzmann / Toshinori Kondo / Massimo Pupillo / Paal Nilssen-Love 15.2.2012 ADA-Trio: Peter Brötzmann / Fred Lonberg-Holm / Paal Nilssen-Love 24.4.2014 Peter Brötzmann / Steve Noble 17.4.2016 Peter Brötzmann / Steve Swell / Paal Nilssen-Love 29.8.2017 Peter Brötzmann / Toshinori Kondo / Heather Leigh (16.3.2020 Peter Brötzmann Solo: musste wegen Corona abgesagt werden) 16.1.2023 Peter Brötzmann Solo (sein 16. Konzert für den club w71)

[nofatclips]

Miss Modular by Stereolab from the album Dots And Loops - Directed and produced by Nick Abrahams and Mikey Tomkins

[mrbopst]

Today in Bopst Booking & Design: 2015

[cdlistening]

Fred Lonberg-Holm, 'Site Specific: Duets for Cello and Guitar' CD (Explain)

Sunday, May 16, 2021 (various portions heard throughout the day)

Finally getting around to checking out this disc I scored from an old friend too many years ago during one of the many CD collection purges I've been privvy to. This disc has a neat conceit: each piece is a duo with FLH (cellist) recorded on successive days at the homes of each participating guitarist, some of whom are well known as guitarists (Jim O'Rourke, Michael Krassner) and others not so much (Jeb Bishop, Michael Zerang). The results are all awesome, with a high degree of variety, although I didn't quite follow along with "who's on this track" except for a few occasions - I will listen more closely again soon and do this.

[dustedmagazine]

Charlie Kohlhase Explorers Club — A Second Life (Mandorla)

Saxophonist Charlie Kohlhase is a lynchpin of the New England jazz scene. He has led various configurations of Explorers Club live and on record as well as playing with luminaries such as John Tchicai, Roswell Rudd and Anthony Braxton. For A Second Life the group expands to an octet, anchored by the formidable rhythm section of bassist Tony Leva and drummer Curt Newton with Kohlhase on alto, tenor and baritone saxes, Seth Meicht on tenor, Dan Rosenthal trumpet and flugelhorn, Josiah Reibstein on tuba and trombonist Jeb Bishop. Guitarist Eric Hofbauer is the versatile wildcard of the group, providing both rhythmic support and brilliant coloratura. With Kohlhase at the helm, these adventurers dexterously balance density and space, structure and improvisation into a thrilling set that pays tribute to forebears and showcases each player’s talent.

On “Lennette,” a portmanteau of Tristano and Coleman, Kohlhase combines the harmonic complexity of the former with the latter’s free approach to structure and melody. Beginning with each player sounding off a two-note motif, the Explorers Club blasts off with a series of fanfares before breaking down into smaller units to duel. The interlude between Hofbauer and Bishop a particular joy. “Airport Station” strolls along on Newton’s lock step beat as Hofbauer bends his guitar through a mazy solo. The reed and brass players mingle and part in brief nocturnal encounters, those late night, cancelled flight consultations, the participants buoying each other.

The cover versions too provide plenty of space for celebration. Kohlhase’s arrangement of Ornette Coleman’s rare 1969 single “Man on the Moon” becomes an eleven plus minute cosmic blowout that references the double quartet of Coleman’s 1961 landmark Free Jazz. The octet hits the main theme hard between breaks for various combinations of interlocking solos with Leva and Newton working double time in support. The duel between Reibstein and Kohlhase a particular delight leading into a frantic revisitation of the main theme and an outro of rocket wake through space. Their reading of Tchicai’s “Berlin Ballad” retains the original’s tender lyricism and hint of “Yesterday” whilst capturing something of Tchicai’s freer side. They close with Roswell Rudd’s “Tetraktys.” After running through the theme, a series of brief interlocking solos, before the band members put aside their instruments one by one to sing the theme in growing unison, a sort “So Long, Farewell” in reverse that brings a wonderful album to a lovely end.

Andrew Forell

[100talberts]

Ann is a beautiful woman, and beautiful women don’t go uncourted for long!!! A boy from our church, Maximilian Bishop, stopped by to ask Jeb’s permission to court our lovely Ann!!!!!! Jeb gave him a little interview to make sure he was a Godly, worthy man, then promised to pray on it. I hope the Lord approves of this match - the Bishops are a wonderful family :-)

Speaking of Ann, it warms my heart when she looks out for her family! She wanted me to be careful while exercising since I’m two trimesters in <3 She also told me that Jeb should love me unconditionally, so I had to correct her. It’s true that, as my Godly husband, Jeb should love me, but it doesn’t mean I should let myself go!!! One of a woman’s many duties is staying pretty for her husband, and I hope I can teach it to Ann in time. I’d pity her poor husband if Ann thought it was okay to be unappealing to him!!

Our babies aren’t the only ones growing up!!!! It seems like just yesterday I was holding Meagan in my arms, waiting for my first baby, and now she’s the young woman calling on Ann!!!! God has truly blessed both of these women by placing them in the perfect positions to form a truly Godly friendship!!!! I trust that I’ll be Maid of Honor at Ann’s future wedding, but no doubt Meagan will have an important role to play!!!

As good Christians, we don’t have a radio and only listen to Christian worship CDs. Ann’s extremely fond of them, and Meagan shares her passion! It warms my spirit to see two young women so devoted to worshiping our amazing Lord!!!!!! Amen!!!!!

[freethejazzblog]

Free The Jazz #23 [for Sam Shackleton]

1 - Trio Red Space - Coal Dust (from “Fields Of Flat”, 2016 Relay)

2 - Adam Lane’s Full Throttle Orchestra - Imaginary Portrait (from “Ashcan Rantings”, 2010 Clean Feed)

3 - Fred Frith & Darren Johnston - Luminescence (from “Everybody’s Somebody’s Nobody”, 2016 Clean Feed)

4 - The Włodzimierz Nahorny Trio - Miesiąc Dobroci / A Month Of Goodwill (from “Heart”, 1968 Polskie Nagrania Muza)

5 - Seymour Wright & Evan Parker - [untitled] (from “Seymour Wright with Evan Parker & Rie Nakajima”, 2016 OTOroku)

6 - Ornette Coleman - P.S. Unless One Has (Blues Connotation No. 2) (from “To Whom Who Keeps a Record”, 1975 Atlantic)

7 - Tania Chen / Henry Kaiser / Wadada Leo Smith / William Winant - Sea Of Crisis (from “Ocean Of Storms”, 2016 Fractal)

8 - Larry Ochs - A Marked Refraction (from “The Fictive Five”, 2015 Tzadik)

Listen to a new show each week on 8K, and find previous shows over at Mixcloud.

[orangechickenpillow]

The Bishop telling Jeb that "it’s a fact, women struggle more with feelings than men" after he's sat on his couch literally struggling to hold back tears while practically begging him for an answer to ease his mom’s pain...... I am filled with so much rage.

The whole “wOmeN aRe mOrE eMotiOnaL” thing is just... bad enough as it is, because obviously -- but it had an extra punch to it in this instance because Jeb is such an emotional person. In fact, we’ve watched him struggle with overwhelming emotion for a whole three episodes at this point. We’ve watched him cry, panic, doubt, struggle, and nearly break over and over again as he watches his community (and his faith) fall apart from the inside out, all while dealing with anxieties about his family -- which have been increased tenfold by the murder of a woman and child so close to home.

So when the Bishop looks him in the fucking eyes and essentially tells him “your dementia-suffering mother is just Being Dramatic because she’s a Woman” and “you’re a man so you don’t feel things as strongly as women do, haha thank goodness for that, am I right?” Is just such a slap in the face. 

[theaggresivepacifist]

detective taba appreciation post (utboh spoilers)

I’ve barely slept in three days and definitely shouldn’t be up now, but I made the decision to watch Under the Banner of Heaven E6 as soon as it came out and here is my conclusion (spoilers below the cut):

The real hero in this narrative is not Jeb Pyre. It’s Detective Taba.

(ANDREW GARFIELD STANS DON’T COME FOR ME, I love him and Pyre is also a fantastic character in his own right, but hear me out.)

If the extreme happens and Taba dies or gets hurt in episode 7, with the narrative purpose of either saving Pyre’s Mormonism (deathbed-convincing Pyre to cling to his faith - an unexpected and touching appeal from a supposed “zealot in the Church of Caffeine” who has actually respected, protected, and advocated for Pyre’s faith and religious practice all season) or severing Pyre’s connection to it entirely, it will suck majorly in terms of the fridging/suffering of a Native character to serve a white character’s development. That being said: it would also fit a pattern, because despite their friendship, and a few touching moments (e.g. Pyre rescuing Taba at the cabin), Pyre has in many ways treated Taba as being disposable this entire time.

The hard truth is that Pyre has been consistently willing to ignore or tolerate racism against Taba, even when it occurs directly in front of them both. The violence and bigotry Taba is subjected to became visible as soon as we met him and has been escalating rapidly over the course of the season, going from the forest ranger’s microaggressions, to Sam’s wife’s blatant racism talking about his skin color, to Bishop Low and his wife treating Taba (a detective) like some kind of dangerous invader in their home, to now, in this last episode, Mrs. Lafferty 1.0 all but calling him racial slurs to his face and a fundamentalist whackjob accusing him of being subhuman - of being used to abominations like the murder of a mother and a fifteen month old baby. The warning signs, the signs of escalation, the signs that Taba is in increasing danger, were there this whole time (as well as all the tropes: all the times Pyre let Taba go alone into a dangerous situation even though he comments on it being dangerous; Taba talking about and showing pictures of his [estranged?] kids, which never bodes well), right under Pyre’s nose.

Pyre has never defended Taba from this, even if he values and cares for Taba as a partner, friend, and confidante. None of Pyre’s crisis of faith seems to involve reflection on the racism in his religious community and their doctrine, and the ways he’s seen it enacted against his partner and friend, even and especially in this single investigation alone. Instead, what Pyre has done is censure Taba in the few instances when he’s reacted against the hypocrisy of the faithful (not even against the racism directly), asking Taba to moderate his tone, to cool off, to step back, to stay silent. If the series culminates in this – if Taba dies or is harmed – Pyre will be complicit, whether or not he realizes it. 

And yet meanwhile, in the background, Taba has been working tirelessly to bring the murderers to justice, and has done nothing but try to make the Mormons around him feel comfortable and safe and understood, despite the fact that they do little or nothing to reciprocate. 

He is constantly thinking of Pyre’s family, of potential threats to Pyre’s family, and trying to protect them. He knows about everyday aspects of Mormon life such as blessings and family home evening, and, unprompted, tells Jeb to go home to his family for it. He gives the girls the skates they wanted but didn’t get for Christmas. He works through the night while Pyre goes home.

With rare exceptions, he changes his language and habits around Pyre and the other Mormons. He seems to chew gum instead of smoking or indulging in other “vices” (and yet gets accused of drinking anyway, by those nasty detectives in E1). 

He’s willing to humble himself to the extreme in front of the stake president of a religion he doesn’t belong to, take insults on the chin, absorb the nastiness and the undercutting of his superior experience without commenting on it. Even though he also makes some efforts, out of compassion and humor, to help Pyre step out of his bubble – with the French fries, with insisting on telling him that he’s “goddamn proud,” instead of just “proud” - he also respects Pyre’s boundaries, and doesn’t start debates or push him farther than he wants to go. 

And so when Taba (GOD, WHY) steps out of the car at the end of E6, making the decision to follow Onias, alone and unarmed, into the dark - bravely, foolishly making the decision to potentially take on all of the brothers himself, to finally take this fundamentalist cult down for himself as well as for the victims, now that Pyre’s not here in harm’s way and Pyre isn’t here to stop him...part of me is terrified for him, and the other part recognizes: this is the hero going for it, ready to save the day, no longer waiting for permission or approval from anyone else, no longer putting up with anyone else’s vitriol and stupidity, and honestly, hell yeah. 

[oatsareyummy]

just spent about 5 hours of my life watching every episode of my life watching The banner of heaven

and, that shit is W I L D. i didn't even grow up in the 80s, but i did grow up in morridor and so many of the mannerisms, the language is all so familiar. i know it's dramatized for the show, and i know that the Lafferty's were fundamentalist, which is separate from your normal mormon. but fuck if so many little scenes haven't been completely familiar.

sister dorren is such an accurate portrayal of relief society. Jeb's little girls, the way Becca's infertility was so casually used to shame her. The way the members and bishops talk about overcoming challenges. it all feels way too familiar.

probably one of the strangest/most uncanny parts for me was seeing the flashbacks to the church history. it all felt so familiar, like videos i grew up watching in sunday school. Especially, especially especially the scene with Joseph in the jail, where he dies. I've seen those scenes so many times, always interpreted as a beautiful sacrifice, one that i revered. now i have not watched anything about joseph smith or the history since i left. this was the first time i had ever watched those moments with an entirely different light. For just a moment, I felt my shelf break all over again. That empty, betrayed hole.

All these jumbled, 2:30 AM thoughts to say that under the banner of heaven is very, very good.