#Manchester Coop Show

[lasseling]

Nicki Minaj's Manchester Co-opShow To Be Canceled? How To GetTicket Refund

As Nicki Minaj's Manchester concert hangs in the balance following her alleged arrest at Amsterdam Airport, fans anxiously await updates amidst uncertainty.

[hunrising]

imagine that first harry at niall's show pic hitting the tl

me having a blast at the show while the tl bursts into flames

[srldesigns6277]

Harry at Niall's show at the Manchester Coop Live - TSLOT Manchester N2

[libraryofloveletters]

Don't Fall

Rodri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: rodri is soooo boyfriend, the ice skating skills are sooo bad, friendly teasing, some falling and a few sweet moments - might be directionally wrong?? I googled, my bad in advance lmao.

Word Count: 844

Author's Note: only pookie gets it, this is my bookie fr - you would not believe how are it is to find a pic of rodri where he isn't in his man city kit. like why must these men make my life hard???

--

It was safe to say the man who comes from sunshine had yet to ice skate in his life. You made it your mission to change that; he was in Manchester, after all.

Winter break boredom was hitting you both hard. You had been cooped up in the house over the last week or so, lazing around the apartment.

The original plan was to soak up as much couple time as you could before you had to go back to work and Rodri was back to training but there's only so much you can do indoors before you start to become a bit stir crazy.

Your head rested on your boyfriend's lap, his fingers gently tangled in your hair as he flipped through the channels. "Rodri mannnn," you groaned.

"Y/n dudeeeee," he mimicked, making you smile.

"I'm losing my mind in here, we need to go out."

"Where? Most places are closed for the holidays." He looks down at you, poking your nose with his middle finger. You shrugged, feeling around for your phone. Rodri unplugs it from the changer and hands it to you, you hum a thank you and head to Google - the only place to go when you need an answer right away.

You Googled things to do in Manchester and found a few options.

The first on the list was to tour the Etihad and you were almost certain that Rodri didn't want to tour the stadium in which he spends most of his time in. You could go sightseeing or do some sort of Sherlock Holmes tour but none of these seemed like anything your boyfriend would be interested in.

You stumbled upon the thing you figured you'd both be into; ice skating.

"Cathedral Gardens had an ice rink," you show him your phone, and Rodri nods, his head tilted to the side as you rattle on about how much fun it is.

"I've never been, I don't know how to skate." He tells you and you shrug, pulling him up and off the couch. "That's fine, I'll teach you. Granted I'm not great either but we'll figure it out."

It didn't take much convincing - a few kisses and a promise to make his favourite dish tomorrow and he was on his way to get dressed.

He drove, parking a few streets away so you could enjoy the lights as you walked down to the ice rink. Rodri watches as you tell the man at the counter the sizes and he hands the skates over to you.

You and Rodri sit on an empty bench and exchange your shoes for the skates. Rodri, being the man he is, kneels in front of you to tie your laces - he always complains that you tie them too long and that's why you always trip over your feet. You rolled your eyes, you never trip over your feet.

It was a slow walk to the entrance of the ice rink, Rodri holding onto you as he tried to balance himself on his way.

You stepped onto the ice first, your back to the crowd as both of your hands stretched out to your boyfriend. Rodri carefully and hesitantly steps onto the ice, letting you help him balance himself. It took him a second of looking like a baby giraffe but he got the hang of it.

He stumbles a bit but you hold onto his forearms, keeping him steady as you two make it around the rink for the first time. You go to let do but he doesn't, gripping tighter on your arms.

You bite back a smile, "do you want one of those gripper things? That the kids use?"

On cue, a little girl comes skating by with her little holder thing which was keeping her up. Rodri rolls his eyes, "I'm not that bad, I swear."

"No!" You giggled, "you're good, you're doing good." You smiled, pulling him a bit closer so he could stand straight.

It takes you two a few minutes, slowly starting to move faster with each lap of the rink and eventually Rodri builds up the courage to let go of your hands, skating next to you rather than in front of you, holding onto you.

Right as you were setting a good pace, you tumbled over a chip in the ice, causing you to fall flat on your ass.

"Babe!" Rodri stops, sort of tumbling into the wall to stop himself. He kneels down, moving over to you - the wetness of the ice freezing his knees but he couldn't care less at the moment.

"Are you okay?!" He asks, helping you sit up.

You nod, laughing. "It's not my fault, there's a chip in the ice!"

Rodri shakes his head, smiling as he helps you up. You two decide it was time to call it a night, your clothes a bit damp from the wetness of the ice and your egos a bit bruised after seeing the little kids skate circles around you.

"Wanna watch Home Alone?" Rodri asks, unlocking the front door.

You hum, walking into the foyer. "Let me change and we'll watch it?"

The man picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. "We'll watch it in bed."

[trickortpwk]

Anne was in Manchester and went to some other artist's show the same night Niall was performing in Manchester.

This is the first in my s**cide note

i saw, and it was lich rally like right next to the arena lmao she might actually go to the coop show tho i can see it

[markowensmile]

Paper Trails of Affection - Chapter 4 (Gary Barlow FanFiction)

Sophie watched as the arena slowly emptied out, the day's meetings finally wrapping up. The band members and crew said their goodnights one by one, eager to get some rest before another packed day of rehearsals tomorrow. Eventually, only Gary and Mark remained, huddled together over a table covered in papers and empty coffee cups.

"I'm telling you mate, a massive robot center stage would look wicked," Mark enthused, sketching energetically on a scrap of paper. "Imagine it—arms outstretched over the whole stadium, spotlights all over it. Like it's embracing the entire crowd." Gary leaned over to look, his brow furrowed in thought. "Could be a big engineering job that, getting something that huge rigged up safe. But you're right, it'd be an incredible visual. Proper iconic."

They continued brainstorming stage designs and debating concepts, getting lost in discussions of lighting rigs, video screens, and pyrotechnics as time ticked by unnoticed. Sophie sat off to the side, notepad in hand, quietly observing their creative process. She was utterly fascinated watching them work—the way they bounced rapid-fire ideas off each other and got excited about even the smallest details. They were both so passionate and knowledgeable about every aspect of putting on an amazing show. Sophie felt like she could have listened to them talk for hours on end, soaking up their enthusiasm and expertise.

Mark eventually stood up and stretched, his joints cracking audibly. "Right, I'm knackered. Better get some kip before dance rehearsals kick off." Gary chuckled with a slight hum of understanding. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow bright and early." With a cheery wave, Mark grabbed his bag and headed out, leaving Gary and Sophie alone in the cavernous space. A slightly awkward silence descended upon them, and Sophie wasn't quite sure what to say now that it was just the two of them.

She was saved from having to make small talk by her stomach suddenly letting out a huge rumbling growl. Instantly, a hot flush of embarrassment swept through her entire body, turning her cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Gary raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Hungry?"

"Oh god, sorry," Sophie cringed, hiding her face in her hands. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten."

"No worries, I'm pretty famished myself," Gary reassured her kindly. He started gathering up the papers into a messy pile. "Tell you what, I know a great little sushi place not far from here. Fancy grabbing a bite? I think we've earned it after today."

Sophie hesitated for a split second. It was late, she was exhausted, and part of her wanted nothing more than to go back home and faceplant into bed. But her growling stomach and curiosity won out in the end. This would be a perfect opportunity to sit with Gary one-on-one and get to know him better, writing qualities of his into her report for work.

"Sushi sounds amazing right now," she smiled. "Lead the way!"

The night air was cool and refreshing after being cooped up inside all day. Sophie zipped up her jacket as they walked briskly down the quiet streets, the arena disappearing behind them into the darkness. It felt a bit strange, surreal even, to be strolling casually next to Gary Barlow like this, making idle chitchat about how her first day with him and the lads went. Sophie had to keep reminding herself that this was real, not some bizarre dream.

After a few minutes, Gary turned down a side street and gestured at a nondescript doorway, a warm light spilling out onto the pavement. "Here we are! Best sushi in Manchester, I reckon."

He held the door open for her, and Sophie stepped inside. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she took in the restaurant's interior. Given Gary's star status, she'd been expecting some fancy, high-end place with crisp white tablecloths and a snooty maître d'. But this was the total opposite—a tiny, cozy space that could barely fit more than a dozen diners, with simple decor and a cheerful, bustling atmosphere that immediately put Sophie at ease.

Gary noticed her reaction and grinned. "Not what you were expecting, is it? I've been coming here for years. The food is fantastic, and it's nice to just be treated like a regular bloke instead of Gary Barlow of Take That." They managed to snag the last free table, settling in with steaming cups of fragrant green tea while they perused the menu. Everything sounded utterly delicious, and Sophie struggled to decide what to order. In the end, she deferred to Gary's expertise and let him choose a selection of his favorites for them to share.

As they waited for the food to arrive, Sophie pulled out her notepad, her journalistic instincts kicking in. She couldn't resist the opportunity to dig a little deeper with some questions while she had Gary's undivided attention like this. It was the perfect chance to get some juicy quotes for her article.

"So how does it feel to be back together and making music again after all this time? Is it like riding a bike, or have things changed a lot since the old days?" She asked, her pen poised over paper.

Gary took a contemplative sip of tea before answering. "Honestly? It feels bloody amazing. I didn't realize quite how much I'd missed it until we started up again. The rush of performing, bouncing ideas around, and being creative with my best mates. There's nothing else like it in the world."

He smiled wryly then, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "But yeah, a lot has changed too. We've all grown up, got families and responsibilities now. Can't quite go as wild as we used to back in the day. Hangovers are a right killer at this age!"

Sophie chuckled, scribbling notes as fast as she could. She was about to ask a follow up question when Gary fixed her with a playful look, one eyebrow arched. "Hang on, is this Sophie I'm talking to or the journalist? Should I be watching my words more carefully around you?"

Flustered, Sophie dropped her pen, feeling her cheeks heat up again. "Oh! No, I didn't mean... Sorry, it's just habit to always be in reporter mode. Feel free to tell me to shove off if I'm being too nosy."

"Nah, you're alright," Gary waved off her apology easily, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I'm just pulling your leg. Ask me anything you'd like."

Relieved, Sophie retrieved her pen and continued to jot down notes as Gary candidly answered her questions.  "It's surreal, honestly," he admitted. "There is always this pressure, the expectations of the tour with us being back together... and to create a good album that our fans will like."

Sophie nodded in understanding. "I can imagine it must be overwhelming at times. How do you cope with all the scrutiny?"

Gary half smiled, a wistful expression on his face. "It's not easy, that's for sure. But I've learned to surround myself with people I trust. The lads keep me grounded. And I love writing music, but at the end of the day, the fans are the ones who make it all worthwhile."

The arrival of the food provided a welcome distraction. Sophie's eyes widened at the colorful array of sushi, sashimi, and maki rolls artfully arranged on bamboo platters. "Wow, this looks incredible! I don't even know where to start."

"Dig in," encouraged Gary, deftly wielding his chopsticks to pluck up a tuna roll. "You've got to try the chili tuna; it's a flavor revelation."

They tucked in with gusto, all talk suspended in favor of appreciative eating noises. Sophie had to admit that Gary hadn't exaggerated. It was easily some of the best sushi she'd ever tasted—fresh, flavorful, and melt-in-the-mouth delicious.

For a while, the only sounds were the clink of chopsticks against crockery and contented sighs as they savored each morsel. Sophie felt warm and relaxed, the stresses of the day dissolving with every mouthful.

"I have to ask," she said eventually, curiosity winning out over her reluctance to break the companionable silence. "What made you decide to do this comeback tour now? Why not 5 years ago or 5 years from now?" Gary popped a piece of salmon sashimi in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing and replying. "Honestly, the timing just felt right. We'd all reached a good place individually and talked out our differences, especially Rob and I. Coming back together now, we can enjoy it more, appreciate what we have. The old magic is still there, but we've got fresh perspective now too."

Sophie nodded, scrawling his answer down verbatim. "That makes a lot of sense. It must be nice to come at it from a more grounded, mature place."

"Don't get me wrong; we still know how to have a laugh," Gary added with a wry smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Put the five of us together, and we revert to being teenagers half the time, messing about. But yeah, overall, we're more focused on putting on a quality show and making it a special experience for us and the fans."

The conversation flowed on easily, fueled by endless green tea and warming sake. Gary was so open and easy to talk to, his natural charisma shining through. Sophie felt like she could ask him anything, and he'd answer with thoughtful honesty. Bit by bit, the larger-than-life pop star faded away, replaced by just Gary��down to earth, funny, caring.

"Now that I have a bit about the band, what about you personally?" Sophie asked, emboldened by the sake and the intimacy of their private dinner. "Who is Gary Barlow? Is he single? The fans want to know more about you, of course," she added hurriedly, trying to cover the fact that it was not just her journalist self-answering but her own burning curiosity too, prompting the rather personal question. She rationalized her somewhat intrusive question, arguing to herself that the more intimate details she could uncover, the more compelling and insightful her feature would be in the end.

Gary's smile dimmed a little, and he looked down, fiddling with his chopsticks. He took a shallow breath before answering, his voice carefully neutral. "No, there is no one special in my life right now." Sophie could feel his discomfort as his face stiffened, a pensive expression settling over his handsome features. She didn't pry any further, sensing she'd inadvertently touched upon a sensitive subject. As much as her journalistic instincts yearned to delve deeper into the enigma of how a man of his caliber and charm could possibly be unattached, she reluctantly let the matter rest for the time being. After all, they had only just met, and Sophie hoped that, given the opportunity to build a rapport and put him at ease, she might be able to broach the question again at a more opportune moment in the future.

Before Sophie knew it, empty plates were being cleared away, and the restaurant staff were starting to close up around them. She checked her watch and was shocked to see it was well past midnight already. The time had simply flown by in Gary's company.

"Wow, I had no idea it was so late," she said guiltily as they stepped outside into the now chilly night. "I'm so sorry for keeping you out this late, Gary; you must be exhausted." She thought of all the questions she'd peppered him with and how tired he must be after rehearsing all day, only to be subjected to an impromptu interview over dinner.

But he waved away her apology with a kind smile. "I was the one who asked you to join me, remember? Besides, I enjoyed our chat. Let me call us a cab; it's too late to walk back to the arena to get our cars now." He made the call, and they waited in companionable silence, shoulders brushing as they huddled in a doorway out of the wind. The cab ride passed quickly, the motion of the car causing them to lean into each other slightly every time they went over a bump. Each time, their eyes would meet, and they'd smile apologetically before looking away again, as if the accidental contact was solely due to the uneven road. All too soon, the car came to a halt outside Sophie's house. Gary gallantly slid out and held the door open for her, ever the gentleman. As she clambered out, he smiled at her warmly.

"This was nice. I'm glad we did this," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

Sophie beamed back at him, her cheeks starting to ache from smiling so much. "Me too. Thanks for suggesting it. And thank you for being so generous with your time and your stories tonight. This has been invaluable for my article."

"No worries," Gary replied easily. "Thanks for the company. It was really nice to just sit and chat with you, Sophie."

They lingered on the pavement, neither making a move to leave just yet, reluctant to say goodnight. Sophie racked her brain for a casual way to prolong the evening just a little bit more. Maybe she could invite him in for a coffee? Ask him a few more questions. But she knew it was late, and they both needed sleep before another full-on day tomorrow.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight then," she said finally. "See you bright and early for rehearsals?" Gary nodded, his own smile tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "I'll be there with bells on. Well, maybe not actual bells. That would be distracting for the dance routines."

Sophie laughed and, on impulse, reached out to give him a quick hug, wrapping her arms around his solid frame. "Night Gary. And thanks again, for everything," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Anytime," he said softly, squeezing her gently before letting go. "Sweet dreams, Sophie."

With a final smile and wave, he turned and got back into the waiting cab. Sophie watched until the car disappeared around the corner, a huge grin plastered on her face that she couldn't seem to wipe off.

As she finally let herself into her flat and got ready for bed, she knew she wouldn't be forgetting this night anytime soon. Her notepad was crammed with juicy quotes and insights to craft into her article, the story already taking shape in her mind.

But more than that, she felt like she'd made a real, genuine connection with Gary tonight, beyond just journalist and subject. The easy camaraderie and flow of conversation, the way he made her laugh, how attentively he listened to her... The ice was well and truly broken between them.

She couldn't wait to find out what the rest of her time on tour would bring, both professionally and personally. The prospect filled her with nervous excitement, making her heart race. One thing was certain: it was going to be the article of a lifetime.

[influencermagazineuk]

Girls Aloud star Cheryl almost 'about to burst out crying' as band pays touching tribute to Sarah Harding during first Manchester show

Image: Instagram / Girls Aloud Girls Aloud kicked off their three dates in Manchester on Thursday night (May 23) with a poignant tribute to Sarah Harding. Sarah tragically died at the age of 39 in September 2021 after being diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. Last month she was honoured with a mural in Stockport where she grew up in a bid to raise awareness of cancer in young people. The remaining band members Kimberley, Cheryl, Nadine and Nicola announced last year that they would be reuniting for The Girls Aloud Show tour which would not only celebrate the band's 22-year legacy but also serve as a fitting tribute to Sarah. During Thursday night's show the band took centre stage at the AO Arena where they performed some of their biggest hits – including Sound of the Underground and Love Machine – for the first time since the band last toured in 2013. The band reiterated their ongoing affection for Sarah, as the singer has been projected on the screen behind the group. In some cases, her vocals are left intact as the girls instruct fans to let Sarah have her moment in the show - a particularly moving moment after the girls informed the crowd that her mum was in the audience. "Coming to Manchester has always been an absolute pleasure," Cheryl told the crowd. Lythgoe added, "It's an incredibly important night for us tonight in so many ways. Of course, we all recall Miss Harding's hometown being Manchester. She would have been so proud of the reception we've had in here tonight, thank you so much Manchester for making it special for her, and for us. "Sarah's mam's in here tonight and I'm sure she's feeling all the love and energy in the room. We love you, Marie. As I come down on that podium, the energy I was hit with I could have just burst out of crying there and then. So thank you all for making it bearable, and making it a joyous occasion for us all." The girls sang The Promise, with Sarah projected larger than life on the screen behind them, as her vocals were played out across the arena. The touching tribute in the midst of BRIT Award-winning track The Promise got huge cheers from the crowd of the sold out show. Fans who had already seen the show since it began in Dublin last week posted on social media about the moment. One person wrote: "So, so special." Another posted: "As if The Promise being a nod to their Brits performance wasn't enough, they went and did the most stunning tribute to Sarah of the evening (one of many). I love you all so much, @GirlsAloud. Thank you for this. #TheGirlsAloudShow." Videographer and former BBC News reporter Chris Fox, who has worked on remastering music videos for Steps and S Club, said he later had to rescue the 16mm film negatives from The Promise video shoot to make the 'absolutely stunning tribute' possible. A cocktail has also been created this week at Yard & Coop in her memory, with the aim to raise money this week for The Sarah Harding Breast Cancer Appeal – based at The Christie hospital where she was treated. A Girls Aloud-themed brunch has also taken place this week, at new Printworks bar Tank & Paddle, until Saturday night with money also being raised during the event for the charity appeal. Read the full article

[senorboombastic]

Exclusive: Stream 'Live At SSR' - The new album from Manchester's Easter

Exclusive: Stream ‘Live At SSR’ – The new album from Manchester’s Easter

Words: Andy Hughes I was at a house party the other night (bragging, I know) and someone asked me what was good coming out of Manchester. Having been cooped up at home in South Manchester for what feels like the past fifty years throughout the pandemic, I didn’t have the foggiest. That’ll soon change now that live shows are becoming a reality, but in the meantime it’s good to have outfits like…

[screechingweasels]

I would love to introduce the world to Anthony. Anthony is the vicar at my Gran's church and quite simply one of the best people that I have ever met. This is the main reason why;

He was a gay scientist who became a priest.

He sounds like the set up for a bad joke and boy does he live up to it.

Anthony wanted nothing to do with religion before going on some camp on a Scottish Island at around 15, when he came back a new person. He came out, became a vegetarian and decided to focus on theology.

Now, however, he has two beehives, one full of bees that solely like lavender, no training or anything, and another full of bees who have no discernable taste. The lavender one is pink and the other "does not deserve paint"

These are at the back of his chicken coop, where he has 5 chickens. One has an upside down wing and Anthony called her Quasimodo. The other 4 are called Ringo, John, Paul and Muhammad, or Mahee for short.

He is an absolute nerd and writes all of his sermon notes in a Gryffindor notebook with a LOTR pen. Knowing I am an avid Harry Potter fan myself, the first thing he did when he met me was show me this old gravestone in the church belonging to a Tom Riddle. He then proceded to tell me about moss before moving swiftly on to fixing my Gran's car. Anthony once asked my grandparents to look after his dog while he went up to Manchester for the day, because he is a part of a Lego society that needed help organising bricks. He had a brilliant day.

But the piece de resistance of Anthony's character, is his sweet little scottie dog Iffa. Ifaa is a trained and adorable blonde scottie that never barks. Her name however is the interesting part. Iffa is short for, of course, Lucifer.

So there. Anthony the gay scientist turned priest with the dog called Lucifer

[sweetestrequiems]

Time for a Getaway!

Requested by: One of you lovely Anons! Thank you for sending a letter. <3 Prompt: 80) “What do you mean they escaped?”

Character(s): The Beheaded Cousins (Anne Boleyn / Katherine Howard) Catherine Parr / Jane Seymour

Summary: Anne and Katherine generally cause a bit of chaos when the two hang out together. But, push came to shove one day and Jane Seymour had decided they needed to take a day to themselves. She thought the two would listen, as she acted like the authority figure most of the time, but this time? The two cousins hatched a plan to get out of the house and have a little bonding moment.

TW: Very short and brief mention of past CSA (Howard references her past life, but not in detail).

A/N: IT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN! As Gloria Estefan once said... “DONDE ESTA MI GENTE?” cause y’all, I am so happy to have been able to have the chance to write Beheaded Cousins chaos! This is also oddly wholesome chaos, too? Like they’re not even causing trouble. They’re just stargazing and acting like siblings. So yeah, this is what we call wholesome Beheaded Cousins with Angry Mom at the end.

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“Katherine Howard! Anne Boleyn! Get down here this instant!”

With arms crossed across her chest, and the not-so-friendly furrowing of her eyebrows, it was evident Jane Seymour was not a happy woman at the current moment. The two queens, one in a green tracksuit for some unknown reason, and the other one in black sweatpants and a pink hoodie, ran down the stairs. The two had smiles on their faces, but that quickly faded when they saw the scowl on the blonde woman’s face. Normally, this was the part where Katherine pulled her “I��m too cute.” card, but the unwavering Seymour was scaring her just a little.

“Yes, Jane?” Boleyn glanced over to the side, seeing her cousin hide behind her arm just a little. “What could we have possibly done to get–” Then she spots it. A laugh comes out of the green queen with the pink one giggling a little. Harmless prank, but a messy one. The two cousins had somehow managed to get about a solid row of six glasses, all upside down, with water inside of them and on top of the table. One could spot a rather upset looking Catherine Parr behind them, with her clutching onto a folder.

There was the heavy Manchester accent, and it only came out when she was talking a lot, or when she was rather angry. “I can’t put this down out of the fear that if we even move one of those glasses, it’s going to be nothing but a huge mess! And these papers are important! D’you know what, ladies?” A hand stops her. Jane speaks up. “Yeah, d’you know what? You’re both grounded. Yes, both of you. In your rooms, not a single peep comes out of you both until dinner time. Are we clear, you two?”

There was a nod from Katherine, but from Anne? Just another bout of laughter as she walked away. It was safe to say Anne did find the harmless prank on them hilarious. Even better was that Kitty was giggling the whole way back to her room. The two always pulled pranks on the queens, but this was the first one that actually would leave a mess behind. At least it was water, so it wouldn't be too difficult to clean up.

“Those girls are the epitome of chaotic energy,” Anna of Cleves let out a small chuckle. “Come on, let’s figure out how to get these glasses empty without a huge puddle o’ water.”

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It was maybe around 10:30 at night when the house grew silent.

The Beheaded Cousins had made a plan to go out and enjoy some of the nightly sights before dawn, as to not get caught by Seymour. The two met downstairs, all suited up in matching tracksuits for some odd reason, and went on out the door, closing it as quiet as possible. Once outside, the two began to laugh. “We did it, Kit! We actually snuck out for once! Alright, where to?”

“This feels awesome. Just us hanging out and not having to worry about anything! D’you know what, Anne? We should go to the park! We can go stargazing! Surely, that’s gotta be... well, interesting! It’s the night sky with no lights around,” Katherine began to jog on ahead of her cousin. Taking a moment to process it, it didn't hit Anne that she was being left behind. “Hey! ‘Old on a sec!” And the green queen chased on after her cousin. 

For the two, spending time was something they cherished once they were... well, gifted the new bodies. They didn't really know too much of each other in their past life. And needless to say, Anne was rather happy to be able to have built a good relationship with Katherine. “Jesus, Kit! You got right on ahead like it was nothing.” “Yeah, well, catch up, slowpoke!” A laugh. The two truly shared a relationship that was unlike any other. 

A fifteen minute walk–– which was shortened to maybe twelve minutes since they jogged the first three minutes–– came to a stop once they crossed the entrance to the park. With a deep inhale and heavy exhale, Howard opened up her arms and smiled. “I love it here. It’s nice and quiet. The sky looks gorgeous, too! More than it did in the lights. There’s the North Star right there, Annie,” pulling her cousin next to her, a lithe arm pointed up in front of them as they paced about the trail.

A soft chuckle. “You aren’t kidding, Kit. This is gorgeous. How’d you discover this spot?”

“Well, I sometimes sneak out of the house when you lot are in bed and just walk around. It helps ease up the nightmares and stuff. Makes life... easy for just a few minutes, even though I spend like an hour outside.” Pulling on her cousin’s sleeve, Katherine guided Anne over to the bench she normally sat at. “I tend to sit right here. Close enough to the light that I can see London’s nightlife, but far enough that you can still––” “See the nighttime sky. Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it’s a whole lot easier to breathe with actual fresh air. I wish you would’ve told me, though. I worry about you a lot. You’re the only living family I have left, and... I’d be devastated if anything happened to you. One of my regrets from my past life is not taking the time to meet you properly. We only ever spoke in passing. Shame, though... that I had to meet an untimely fate and couldn’t save you from the hell you went through.”

“Yeah, I sometimes wish I was brave enough to have spoken up about it. But, times were so drastically different back then. Speaking up would’ve gotten my head chopped off a lot sooner. But this day and age? It makes me proud to see the people that come out with their stories. There’s so many survivors, and... I can’t help but get overwhelmed sometimes. It feels nice knowing our voices are finally heard, y’know?”

“D’you know what, Kit? Talk to Cathy. Maybe you could write a memoir!”

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12:00 am on the dot.

Catherine Parr was the sleepless one of the group. Most of her nights consisted of her staying up at her desk, either handwriting or typing out anything that came to her head. In this case, she was finalizing the first draft of a series of memoirs. That series, of course, being about the six of them as the wives of Henry. Having been sitting in the living room, Parr found it a bit odd that the house was quiet. Standing up from the table that had been cleaned off hours ago, she stretched her arms upward and yawned.

Katherine and Anne both normally had some form of music playing in the background when they slept. Or some form of ambient noise. There was none of that, and it was driving her insane. Pacing carefully as to not make that much noise, Catherine headed down the hallway. Boleyn’s door was ajar, and Howard’s was wide open. Pushing the ajar door open, Parr’s eyes widened and she immediately looked into Howard’s room. “They’re not here. Jane’s going to kill them. But Jane also loves them too much to do that. Those two always know how to cause chaos...”

With a heavy sigh, the blue queen just let her shoulders fall as she headed towards Seymour’s door with a bit of dread. This was either where Jane lost her mind, or became a worried mom, or both. Only time would tell. Reaching the door, she just gently knocked.

“Come in.”

Seeing that it wasn’t Katherine, but rather, Catherine, Jane Seymour sat up and put the bookmark inside of her book. “Catherine? Why are you––... never mind, don’t answer that. Better question is, why are you in here?”

“Kitty and Anne. They’re not in their rooms, Jane.”

Parr saw her expression become deadpan. No emotion, nothing to read. She became a true statue at that moment. But just as quickly as she could blink, the grey queen was up on her feet and pushing past her counterpart. The silence was almost bothering Catherine, and she wrote in utter silence. It gave her a cold shudder, before a frustrated groan echoed in the hallway. “They escaped their rooms, huh.”

“What do you mean they escaped? I would more-so call it sneakin’ out, Jane. It's not like they were cooped up in there for long, anyways. Come on, I have a bit of an idea of where they could be. Maybe.”

“Did you help them?”

“No, Jane. Cleves and I have gone out to eat at a diner this late before. It was the one night we got back from Edinburgh really late and didn’t want to wake you lot up. There was a really cozy diner in London and we’ve been to it a bit. Grab a jumper, let’s go. I’ll take you to it.”

––––––––––

That diner Parr had mentioned was exactly where the Beheaded Cousins were.

And they weren’t even really eating, they were just sitting in there since they had gotten chilly.

“We’ve got to come here during the day some day, or maybe after a show. It’s all cozy and... retro. I think that's the word, anyways,” Boleyn let a laugh out, with her cousin giggling. “Seriously though, Kit... thanks. For, well... y’know, showing me that spot in the park. I wish I would’ve brought a camera. I feel like it would yield some wonderful pictures.”

“I’m glad I got to share it with you! I’d love to tell the other queens, but I’m scared they’re going to be worried as to why I go out so late at night. Especially Jane. But I do think she’d quite enjoy it!” Howard gently tapped on the table. “D’you know what, Annie? I’d love love love for you to help me maybe convince the others to––”

“Sneak out like you two did?” And looking down upon them with what could’ve been described as the Mom Stare was Jane Seymour. The blonde woman furrowed her eyebrows, unwavering in her position and demeanor. “You two have a lot of nerve t’do that. At least nothing bad happened to you two. Come on, we’re going home.”

Looking at each other, and at the door to see Catherine Parr, the cousins both just laughed it off. “Relax, mum. We’re bringing all of you next time. I really want to show you this nice spot in the park when it's dark outside.”

“It's really nice. Kitty’s got taste for picture perfect places. Literally, she does.”

A groan from Jane. “Fine, but next time... tell me you two are going out late. You both gave me a heart attack.”

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter eight

[ao3]

this is the latest i’ve ever posted a chapter...but technically it still counts. as long as i havent slept its still monday and you dont know whether i live in california or not 

@tirednotflirting​ thank u for entertaining my insane little ideas and improving them this fic is truly nothing without you and @kaleidoscopeminds​ thank you for making my entire fucking week with that helpful little encouragement although i have to say its only monday so don’t get too gassed about that compliment. 

i said on ao3 that half of this was written to a specific song so here i’m going to reveal the other half was written to just be good to green by professor green which honestly? fucking slaps i can’t be lying to you on this fine monday evening/tuesday morning 

They have a few dates in the UK at the end of December, and Calum finds that his week or so away from his band has actually been a week too long. It almost made him forget the warmth that fizzles through his veins with the laughter that comes from Noel making contemptuous comments about Liam and Bonehead and Liam and Tony and Liam again, from Bonehead cheering loudly as Calum and the brothers groan and wince when they hear -and City have conceded yet another goal, this really is poor form- on the radio, from Liam slinging an arm around Calum in a bar in Glasgow and grinning madly at him, eyes lit up from the high of the show and the booze and the drugs, and shouting I fucking love you, Cal, over the sound of the shitty music. It makes Calum grin back, makes him press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, makes him giddy with the thoughts of how could I ever give this up? that rattle around what little of his mind the coke in his veins has left him. 

It’s good, though, because the week-and-a-half apart is all the breathing space they needed, so once they’ve all recovered from their frankly alarming post-New-Year’s hangovers, the first few weeks of January, which are precious weeks off, are spent cooped up in a rehearsal space, or down the pub, or lying on the floor of Noel’s flat, stoned out of his mind, or wrapped up in a bunch of sky-blue scarves screaming abuse at the away stand at Maine Road. 

Or, looking at houses in London. 

Calum had mentioned it to Liam in a carefully-casual way, biting the inside of his cheek to contain a smile as Liam’s bright blue eyes had lit up and he’d said, a little too enthusiastically, eeyar, y’know Kentish Town’s a right nice area? Bet you could find a place there, too.

“Have you got a place, then?” Calum had asked, and Liam had shaken his head. 

“Not yet,” he’d said. “Got some more viewings next week, though, if you fancy tagging along.” Calum had hummed, and nodded. 

“Might do,” he’d said. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Houses,” Liam had said immediately. “Big fuck-off houses. Mansions." Calum had snorted, and rolled his eyes. Typical. 

“Give us the number of your estate agent,” he’d said. “I’ll ring and see if they’ve got anything for me.” 

So Liam had called Noel and asked for the estate agent’s number, because he’d lost his address book again, and then Calum had rung the estate agent and told them vaguely what he was looking for - a place somewhere around Kentish Town, not too far from a pub if possible - asked to be put on the books, and been posted a few particulars. There had been a few places he’d been interested in, two houses and one flat, and with a little bit of wrangling he’d managed to get himself viewings on the same day that Liam had said he’d be going down, which is how they’ve ended up here.

They’ve seen both the houses that Calum had been considering, neither of which were quite right - one had a deceptively large garden, which Calum simply can’t be bothered to deal with, and the kitchen of the other one needed far too much work doing - and they’re in the second of Liam’s now, ambling around an airy, spacious living room. It’s a nice house, Calum thinks as he runs a finger over the mantelpiece above the fireplace, if a little big for his own taste. Liam, though, seems to be fucking loving it, craning his neck to look at the high ceilings and the sash windows, whatever the fuck those are. Calum had tuned out of whatever the fuck the estate agent’s droning on about approximately ten minutes ago, electing to simply wander around on the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts. 

It’s going to be fucking weird, he thinks, living in London. Manchester’s home. It’s where he’s been for almost six years, where his life had gone from bland and mundane to the fucking rollercoaster it is now, where he'd settled in and grown into himself. It’s going to be fucking weird being away from it, not going to Maine Road on a Saturday afternoon or a Tuesday evening, not heading down to the pub round the corner from his house for a pint with Liam, not hopping on a bus to cross town to Noel’s flat. Somehow it feels even stranger than when he’d first found out he’d be going on tour, leaving Manchester and sleeping in a different city every night, because he’d still always known where his home was. Sydney hadn’t ever really felt like home, not in the way Manchester does, and it makes Calum’s skin prickle with a tiny bit of fear to think that he’s choosing to uproot himself again, choosing to displace himself entirely this time, on a strange leap of faith chasing his best friends down to London. 

Well, he thinks, glancing over at Liam again, and a warm wave of comfort washes over the prickling under his skin. At least he’ll have a little bit of home here with him. 

Almost like he knows he’s being watched, Liam turns on his heel and catches Calum’s eye.

“What d’you think?” he says, like they’re a couple, or something. Calum shrugs. He likes it well enough, but it’s not his money, is it?

“‘S your money,” he says. 

“Yeah, but what d’you think?” Calum shrugs again, casting his eyes back up at the huge bay windows opening out onto the street. He can imagine Liam here, sprawled out across a big sofa with ten empty bottles in front of him, TV blaring in the background, phone hanging off the hook. He’d probably have those NME covers of himself blown up and hung on the wall over there, maybe above the fireplace, might even get a vinyl of their album and stick that up on the wall behind the sofa- yeah, Calum can imagine Liam here. 

“I like it,” he says. “Think it suits you.” Liam beams at him. 

“Yeah?” he says, and turns back to the estate agent, who’s been hovering a little nervously in the doorway as Liam prodded around the brilliant white living room. “How much was this one, again?” 

“Five hundred and forty six thousand,” the estate agent says politely, and Liam nods thoughtfully, like that isn’t the most enormous sum of money Calum’s ever heard of. 

“D’you want to ring our accountant, maybe?” Calum says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head. 

“Seeing Noel tomorrow,” he says, and Calum hums. Fair enough. Noel’ll probably know the state of Liam’s finances better than their accountant, anyway. "Right, let's have a look at your little bedsit, then, eh?" Calum rolls his eyes, and shoots Liam a playful glare. 

"Get to fuck," he says, and Liam grins, following the estate agent out of the house. 

The flat Calum had liked the look of is literally around the corner from the house Liam’s keen on, and there’s a pub halfway between the two of them that Liam points out and stops outside of, peering in and asking the estate agent how much a pint costs there. 

“Two pound fifty?” he echoes in shock, when the estate agent informs him. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”

“You’re literally a fucking millionaire,” Calum reminds him, and Liam tears his gaze away from the window to glower at him. 

“It’s the fucking principle,” he says, but he slouches away from the pub, albeit not without throwing it one final glare. 

The flat’s on the ground floor of a huge house, one that looks like something Calum might expect Brett Anderson to live in, and he has half a mind to ask whether any other potential rival band members are living in the area before letting Liam loose in it, but decides he’s not going to play the role of Liam’s minder if he doesn’t have to. He, at least, isn’t bound to him by blood and double-helixes like some people, and he’s going to take full advantage of that. 

The estate agent’s saying something about excellent schools in the area as they walk in, and Calum just stares at her back, thinking do I fucking look like I’m about to have kids? I don’t even know how to boil an egg or change a lightbulb - or anything beyond playing bass and taking drugs, really. Liam doesn’t hold back his snort, and Calum throws him a glare over his shoulder but can’t hide the amused smile playing at his lips, which just encourages Liam, makes him say eeyar, Cal, could tuck your little kids Mary and Jane into bed right here, couldn't you? when they get into the smaller bedroom.

The flat’s not too big, but it’s definitely not small, either - two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a toilet, and a kitchen, with a little patio at the back over the shared garden which, the estate agent assures him, is taken care of by the building managers. It’s exactly the right size, really - big enough that Calum feels like he’d have breathing space, even with the four noisy Mancunians that are inevitably going to be spreading themselves out across his new place like they’d been the ones to spend a few hundred thousand on it, but small enough that it wouldn’t feel empty, wouldn’t make him feel lonely if he were there on his own, and, more importantly, wouldn’t be a fucking ballache to clean. 

He looks down at the particulars he’d had the foresight to bring with him - or rather, that his mum had shoved in his hand before he’d left the house - and scans it for the price again. A hundred and ten thousand, alright. That’s still fucking extortionate, but after hearing the price of the place Liam’s thinking of it feels like a bargain, and he’s already got his mortgage in place thanks to the chivvying from his parents, so he turns to the estate agent when they get to the kitchen and says: “I’d like to make an offer at the asking price.” She brightens, and nods. 

“We have one more viewing on this property this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch with the seller as soon as I get back to the office and let him know,” she says, and Calum smiles politely at her, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Fucking hell, maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it’s too early to be living on his own; maybe he should have a transition period, move in with Liam, or something, rent something in Manchester. 

But, like he can sense it, Liam turns to him, and nods decisively. 

"This is your fucking place," he says, like it's obvious. "And I'll be right 'round the corner." 

So it's decided.

Buying a flat, it turns out, though, is a right fucking hassle.

It involves lawyers, which Calum hadn’t expected, and it involves a surveyor, which he’d never even heard of, and it involves his parents insisting on coming down to London to look at the property he’s chosen, like they can’t trust him to make an adult decision. 

(Well, Calum thinks, when Liam casually offers him a bump of coke in the pub the evening before they're due to go down to London. Maybe they’re right.) 

His mum thinks the kitchen is too small for entertaining, and Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the kitchen probably won’t be used for anything other than storing alcohol for a good few years, and his dad thinks the shower could do with replacing, which Calum just nods at - he’s not sure how he’d go about doing that; call a plumber? A builder? He’ll figure something out - but they both nod, satisfied, when Calum’s finished the full tour and turns back to them expectantly. 

“How close did you say Liam would be, again?” his mum asks, too casually, and Calum can’t help but laugh as he leads them out. 

There’s no way it’ll all be done before they have to head back out on tour again, so Calum has to sign a bunch of documents authorising his parents to be informed about what stage of the buying process he's in, but the lawyer Noel had found for him assures him that everything will be done by the end of January when they’re back for a few days for the NME awards and Calum’s birthday. 

About a week and a half before the NME awards, Michael calls. 

“A little birdy tells me you’re buying a place in London,” is how he greets Calum when Calum picks up the phone after hearing the Calum, it’s Michael yelled up at him from the kitchen, and Calum can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh. 

“How the fuck d'you know that?” he says. 

“I’ve got my sources,” Michael says, and Calum can hear that he’s grinning. 

“You’re not spying on me, are you?” Calum says, a little suspiciously. 

"'Course not," Michael says breezily. "Can't speak for Damon, though. Y'know, this whole Blur-Oasis thing is really stepping up a notch with the NME awards around the corner." Calum can’t help but smile himself, grinning down at his lap. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and he feels comfortable saying it, and Michael laughs, and it all makes a strange warmth curl up and make a home for itself in the pit of his stomach. 

“Dave’s looking to move to Kentish Town,” Michael explains. “Went to an estate agent, who said it was surprising to see three members of Oasis and one member of Blur there in the space of a week.” 

“Those bastards,” Calum says evenly. “Thought we were paying for exclusive rights to their services. Pretty sure Liam would've made sure we had a verbal contract, or something; none of those Blur cunts allowed." Michael laughs again, and the sound goes straight to something deep in Calum, something that he reckons might be either his heart or soul but chooses to ignore because he can feel the threat of panic rising in his chest at the very thought of entertaining that idea. 

“What made you decide to move down, then?” Michael says, and Calum shrugs, even though Michael can’t see him. 

“Thought it was about time I moved out,” he says. “And- y’know. London’s sort of the place to be, if you’re in the music scene.” Michael hums. 

“Y’know Kentish Town’s right around the corner from Camden?” he says, a little too nonchalantly. “‘S where that fish and chip shop I took you to was.” Calum swallows. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He hesitates, and then adds, in an equally too-casual voice: “You’ll have to show me around the area.” 

“Might do,” Michael says lightly. “For a fee.” 

“I’m going to be skint after buying this place,” Calum tells him. "It'd be an act of charity." 

“Who said the fee was monetary?” Michael says, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He clears his throat, and goes to say something, but can't. It doesn't matter, though, because Michael’s carrying on, a little hastily, like he’s picked up on Calum’s silence. “You could nick me a few of Noel’s songs. Damon’s really struggling for lyrics. Came into the rehearsal room yesterday after being stuck in traffic with a song that goes who maddest one on the M1?” He pauses, and then says: “It’s pretty good, though.” Calum can’t help but snort at that, heart beating a little too fast, even though Michael’s glossed over the awkward moment. Or maybe papered over it; Calum's never been great at telling the difference.

“I’m not looking to get murdered,” he says, and Michael sighs dramatically. “Plus, it’s not like Noel’s lyrics are any better.” 

“True,” Michael muses. “What’s that one about, fucking, Mr Soft?” Calum huffs out a laugh at that, leaning back on his bed. 

“Don’t remember a song about fucking Mr Soft,” he says, and Michael tuts, but Calum can hear the note of amusement in it. 

“Should’ve been that instead,” Michael says flippantly. “I reckon it would’ve been an improvement.” 

“Bit rich, coming from someone who’s got a song that half-consists of the word ‘parklife’,” Calum retorts, and Michael makes a noise of indignance. 

“That’s a fucking brilliant tune,” he says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Damon barely even sings on it,” Calum says. 

“Shouldn’t do, either, for what we had to pay Phil Daniels,” Michael remarks. “Damon’s obsessed with getting these fucking features on. D’you know we’ve got Ken Livingstone lined up for our next album?” Calum can’t help but laugh out loud at that, bright and surprised. 

“Ken Livingstone?” he echoes. “Like, Ken Livingstone?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, and he sounds exasperated, but fond. “I don’t know what the fuck is going through Damon’s head most of the time, but it’s easier to just give him a pat on the head and go aww, Damon, that's a lovely idea, what a clever boy you are than to try and understand him. Don’t have the energy for that. And I’m still making money, aren’t I?” 

“If your house is anything to go by,” Calum says. 

“Hey,” Michael says, mock-serious. “Let’s not talk about my house. Nice flat you’re buying.” Calum has to concede there, with a grin. He’s got a point. 

“Does Damon call all the shots, then?” he asks, a little curious. He doesn’t actually know much about Blur’s dynamic - they’re nowhere near as transparent as Oasis are, and all he really knows is what he’s heard from Michael, which seems to be that they’re decent blokes and good friends, and what he’s picked up from the Oasis camp, which seems to be that they’re all Tories and that the jury’s still out on whether they’re the antichrist or whether that’s Liam. 

“What’s this, trying to infiltrate us?” Michael asks, but Calum can hear that he’s smiling. “He tries, but Graham won’t let him. We sort of step back and let their do their thing most of the time. Alex gets involved, sometimes, but I think Graham and Damon like the fighting.” Calum hums, not really sure what to say to that, besides sounds like Noel and Liam.

“You’d like Damon, I think,” Michael says, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Well, y’know. If your insane bandmates would let you.” 

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs, a little awkwardly, and casts his eyes back down at his lap, picking at his pyjama bottoms. Michael doesn’t say anything to that for a minute, just breathes down the phone line and lets the two of them simmer in a slightly-uncomfortable silence, and then he sighs. 

“I should go,” he says. Don’t, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t have a good enough reason to keep Michael on the line. Michael pauses, like maybe he’d been waiting for Calum to ask him not to go, and then sighs again. “Alright, well. I’ll see you at the NME awards, I guess.” Calum’s stomach twists. Shit. He’d forgotten Blur were going to be there. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Don’t think you’ll be able to miss us, the number of awards we’ve been nominated for.” Michael laughs at that, and it’s soft, but it’s a little wistful. Maybe Calum should have asked him to stay. Maybe he didn’t need a good enough reason. Maybe just wanting him to would have been reason enough. It’s too late now, though, because Michael’s saying I don’t think anyone within a six mile radius of Liam can miss him, and Calum huffs out another laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and then hesitates, and adds: “I mean-”

“I know,” Michael says quickly, and Calum’s grateful for it. “I promise not to even look in your direction all night.” Calum snorts. 

“What’re you going to do when we’re up on stage collecting all the awards we’ve beaten you to?" 

“Go to the loo,” Michael says immediately, and this time, the smile does reach Calum’s eyes. 

“You’ll be up and down like a fucking yo-yo,” Calum says. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, given the number of awards we’re up for,” Michael says, and it’s smooth and cocky, confident without being arrogant, and it sends something electric charging through Calum, knocking the breath out of his lungs and making his vision blur a little around the edges for a moment. What the fuck is that? 

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Calum manages to get out, proud of and relieved at how light and even his voice sounds. 

“Guess we will.” Michael’s voice is light and amused, but that searing edge of confidence is still there, and Calum has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You will.” He hears Michael breathing for a moment longer, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone, leaving Calum sitting in bed, staring at the wall opposite him, mind finally kicking into gear and helpfully offering him an explanation for the way his heart’s racing in his chest and his breath coming out a little shorter and shallower than before. 

Arousal. 

 -------

 They have a show in Hollywood on the twenty-second, which means Noel ramps up rehearsals for the week before they go, probably mostly because he just loves to wield power over them all. Calum doesn’t really mind, though, enjoys the way that Liam and Noel snipe at each other, the way Bonehead grumbles about needing to re-tune his guitar again because he can’t be bothered to restring it, the way that they all roll their eyes at Tony when he fucks up the rhythm for Supersonic again in the first few bars. 

Well, actually, he’s not enjoying that so much. 

See, he knows Tony’s not the best drummer, the same way he knows that Noel’s far from the best guitarist and he’s not the best bassist. They’re all getting there, though - Calum can hear how much better he sounds than even half a year ago - except for Tony. Tony’s not got any better, doesn’t even seem to care enough to try, content to get by with what he’s got away with doing so far and then go down to the pub for a pint or two and ring his missus when he gets back to the hotel, but it’s not good enough anymore. It might have worked when they were fighting tooth and nail to get on a bill, but now, when they’re selling out bigger and bigger venues, when they’re on a six-album contract and they’re in the running to be the biggest fucking band in Britain, it’s not enough. 

The tension’s been mounting for a while, the exasperated looks Noel throws in Tony’s direction turning to scornful, to ugly, twisted lips and dark, furrowed brows, but so far, no one’s said anything. Liam might snipe at him a little more, might seek him out to get out his pent-up anger when Noel’s tired of fighting with him, and Noel might snap at him faster, might say Jesus, you’re fucking incompetent with absolutely no shred of fond exasperation, but no one’s said anything. It’s only a matter of time, though, Calum thinks, as he watches Tony falter on the beat again and Noel turn around, fingers stilling on the strings, shoot him a furious look and say d’you feel up to doing your fucking job today, or what? Should I do it myself? They’re going to have to address it at some point. 

Not now, though. Now, they’re flying to America again, and Calum’s trying to get Liam to go to sleep on the flight instead of demanding peanuts from the poor air hostesses every two minutes, and Noel’s turning around in his seat and saying stop kicking me, you dick to Bonehead, who just shrugs and kicks harder, and Tony’s pretending to nap across the aisle. Everything’s in its strange, fragile balance, and none of them want to be the first to upset it. 

The show in Hollywood goes well enough - which is measured by the fact that Noel only had ten minutes of criticisms to hand out, rather than the usual twenty - and then they’re flying back to the UK, drugged-up and exhausted from jumping back and forth across timezones, being ushered into a hotel in London and told you’ve got a day off, and the NME awards in the evening. That’s a human evening, Bonehead, not fucking midnight. Calum’s sharing with Liam that day - or is it night, he can’t fucking tell anymore - and they just fall right into bed and sleep for sixteen hours, only waking up at five in the afternoon when someone hammers on their door and shouts Noel says to wake you up, and to tell you that you’re lazy cunts. Liam rolls over, and blinks blearily at Calum. 

“Time’s it?” he mumbles, and Calum squints at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock balanced precariously on the edge of his bedside table. 

“Five,” he says. Liam groans, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fucking Noel,” he says. “Don’t even have to leave for another hour. Prick just wants to torture me.” 

“Probably,” Calum agrees, because that sounds like Noel. Liam groans again, rubs at his eyes, and then pushes himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Calum. 

“Did we raid the minibar last night?” he asks, and Calum thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Liam smiles, satisfied, and swings his legs out of bed, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet. 

“Perfect,” he says, heading straight for the little fridge under the desk. “Noel can pay for these, then.” Calum just rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when Liam winks at him over his shoulder and tosses him a little bottle of vodka. 

They drink the entire minibar between them, and by the time they’re heading out for the car that’s waiting to pick them up, Calum’s laughing at everything Liam’s saying, skin pleasantly warm and tingling, which is just encouraging Liam to say stupider and stupider things and gesticulate more and more wildly. Usually, Noel would nip that right in the bud, but he’s a little pink-cheeked himself, just laughs along at Liam’s antics and the weird little stories he tells on the journey to the venue. 

It’s fucking packed when they get there, and Calum’s almost blinded when a few cameras go off in his face, and he barely has time to think brilliant, bet I look fucking great in those before someone’s tugging on his sleeve and pulling him up the steps and inside. He’s still blinking away the blue-green-purple behind his eyes as he stumbles into the room, gets ushered to a table with the rest of them, and twists around in his chair, trying to drink in the rest of the room. 

It’s fucking packed, and it’s full of people Calum recognises from festivals and from magazines and newspapers - Elastica, Radiohead, Suede, Pulp - but he’s only really looking for one band. He’s trying to do it as subtly as possible, though, knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look before Noel notices and gets shirty about it, but can’t find them anywhere in the crowd of people as people get up and sit down and lean around their table to talk to someone at another table. He turns back to his own band, tuning into the conversation that’s going on about whether or not they’d actually been nominated for Best Single; he'll just look for Michael the next time the Gallaghers have gone to take whatever it is they're on tonight.

There’s drink on the table, and there’s drugs in Noel and Liam’s pockets, and by the time the ceremony’s begun they’re all looking very fucking merry and pleased with themselves. The brothers actually manage to behave themselves, though, sitting back quietly as the first award - Best LP - is introduced. 

Of fucking course, it’s Blur. 

They watch as Blur traipse to the stage to a round of polite applause, looking very relaxed and pleased with themselves, coming from somewhere against the wall to the far left of the Oasis table, and Calum feels his heart start to speed up as he spots Michael at the back of the group, saying something to Graham with a smile on his face that makes Graham laugh too as they follow in Damon, Dave and Alex’s wake. 

Damon leans into the microphone, saying something about thank you to the fans, blah blah blah, but Calum’s just staring at Michael, willing him to catch his eye. Michael’s scanning the crowd in a way that Calum could mistake for idle if he didn’t see the slight narrowing of his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s looking at the back, then at the left, then somewhere around the middle, and then finally his eyes fall on Calum’s table, and his lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly. 

And then, like Noel and Liam aren’t sat right fucking there, he winks. 

Calum knows what he’s saying. First award goes to me, eh? Fucking cocky little shit, he thinks, through the haze of alcohol, but it makes his next intake of breath a little sharper all the same. 

“Pricks,” Liam says derisively, reaching for another beer. Calum hums his agreement, but his eyes don’t leave Michael, who’s now trying to suppress a fully-fledged smile. Calum shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for his own beer, just for something to put between himself and Michael. 

Damon finishes his speech, thank you to their management, blah blah blah, and then they’re heading back off the stage, and Michael breaks his eye contact with Calum easily, like it’s nothing, tossing another nonchalant comment that Calum can’t make out in Damon’s direction. It sort of stings, seeing how easily Michael can act like it's nothing, but it’s also an odd relief, because Calum’s all too aware of the two fuckers he’s sat between. 

He’s downed another beer by the time the next award’s being announced - Best Single - and it looks like they have indeed been nominated for it, because they win it. 

“Fucking get in,” Liam crows, getting to his feet, and Noel doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but cuff him upside the head fondly as they head for the stage. 

“None of you cunts deserve this,” he says, as they jog up the steps. “Least of all you.” He directs the last part at Tony, but unlike the first half of his sentence, it’s got an edge of venom to it, a bit of Noel’s cruel streak leaking through. Calum shoots Noel a sharp look as they head for the podium, because tonight is not the fucking night, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” he says, and Noel just shrugs, turning away from him to accept their award and then stepping over to lean into the microphone. Liam’s there too, quick as a fucking flash, not willing to let Noel have any more than about forty percent of the limelight, and Calum just rolls his eyes and steps back, deciding to just let the fucking shitshow happen. He’s got other things to think about, anyway - Blur had come from his left when he’d been sat down, so they should be sat somewhere on what’s now his right, and he frowns as he scans the room, squinting into the bright stage lights as he tries to make out the all-too familiar shape of Michael sat at a table.

He actually spots Damon before he spots Michael, and he feels an odd stab of excited anticipation make his heart lurch as his eyes slide around the table, like he’s a fucking fifteen year old with a crush again. There’s Graham, Dave, some woman he doesn’t know, Alex- 

Luke.

Fucking hell. 

He’d completely forgotten, somehow, that Luke - and Ashton, who’s sat right next to him - were going to be here. It makes his stomach tighten, seeing the two of them again in this unfamiliar context, makes him blink like they’re going to fucking disappear if he tries hard enough. Luke’s hair is long, now, curly like it always used to be after they’d been swimming at Bondi Beach, and he’s broad as fuck, fills out the shirt he’s wearing in a way that would probably make Calum’s mouth water if it were anyone other than Luke. Ashton looks older, too, has his sleeves rolled up far enough to expose very muscled arms, hair dyed black and one slightly-curled strand falling into his eyes. He’s got his hands in front of him, clasped together and elbows on the table, and Luke’s leaning back in his seat, one arm around the back of Ashton’s chair, leaning into him a little. They look the same, and they look so different.

Calum doesn’t even realise Liam and Noel are done with their antics until Bonehead shoves at him with his shoulder and inclines his head with a frown, signalling get off the fucking stage, you prat. It only just occurs to his alcohol-addled mind to flick a quick glance over at Michael, who’s grinning up at him easily, even looking a little proud, and it makes Calum’s already-leaden stomach flip somehow, in a way that he thinks might be pleasant but isn’t entirely sure about. 

He follows the rest of his band off the stage in a daze, almost trips over his own feet at least four times on his way back to the table, drawing enough attention to himself that Liam throws him a frown as they sit down, concern for Calum cutting through all the drink and drugs in his veins. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks, managing to make it sound hostile somehow. Calum blinks at him. 

He can say it, can’t he? It’s not like they’ve got any shit with Luke and Ashton. Well, Noel probably will on principle, but anyone who isn’t the most vindictive person on the planet shouldn’t have. 

“I, uh,” he says, and clears his throat as he realises Noel’s tuned into the conversation too, even though he’s still facing the stage, sitting far too still as he listens to what Calum has to say. “I saw the Blur table. Michael’s brought two of my best mates from Sydney.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding a little disappointed, like he’d been expecting something juicier than that. “D’you wanna go and say hi?” That gets Noel to turn around, to shoot Liam a furious glare. 

“Are you insane?” he demands. 

“What?” Liam says defensively. “They’re his mates.” 

“They’re with Michael.”

“So? They’re still Calum’s mates.” 

“They’re with Blur.” Liam scoffs. 

“Don’t be so fucking unreasonable,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the applause as the next award is announced - Calum has no idea what it is, but Blur are receiving it again. Noel laughs incredulously, and his eyes are narrowed and cold, and Calum thinks for fuck’s sake, not again. 

“I’m being fucking unreasonable?” Noel says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Liam says stubbornly. “What the fuck have they done? They’re not in Blur, are they?” 

“They’re-” Noel cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in the air, like the fact that Liam’s not on his side on this is beyond him. Liam throws him one last look, and then turns back to Calum. 

“D’you want to say hi?” he asks again, and Calum hesitates. He’s not really sure. 

“Jesus, why don’t you ask him if he wants to fuck Mike again too, while he’s at it?” Noel says scornfully, which makes Liam’s eyes flash with anger for a moment, and he rounds on Noel again. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Just fucking leave it.” 

“Leave it?” Noel echoes. “Leave-” 

“Stop it," Liam says, something uncharacteristically firm and serious to his tone. "You’re making yourself too obvious.” That makes Noel’s mouth snap shut, but his jaw muscles continue to work furiously as he glowers at Liam, something so irate in his expression that Calum can’t even read it. He doesn’t want to, anyway, not when he sees the defiant set of Liam’s jaw and realises they’re having one of those brotherly we know something you don’t know moments, sees the silent conversation occurring between the two of them and just waits it out, waits for one of them to snap. It’s Noel this time, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair, still glaring at Liam, but Liam seems to know what he means by that, because he throws Noel one final look that looks almost like those I’m disappointed in you looks that Noel so often sends Liam, and turns back to Calum again. 

“Let’s go over,” he says. 

“Not now,” Noel says sternly. Nothing to do with Blur, though; this is Noel’s business voice. “We’re in the middle of a fucking awards ceremony.” 

“So?” Liam says, with a carefree shrug. 

“No.” Liam looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but Noel holds his gaze, and eventually Liam sighs and slumps back in his seat. 

“Fine,” he says sullenly, but before Noel has time to say something cutting in response, everyone around them is jumping to their feet and cheering. 

“What?” Calum says to Bonehead, who throws him a funny look. 

“Best new band,” he says, and Calum’s heart clenches, but in a way that he definitely likes. 

Fucking hell, he thinks, as he gets to his feet and grins broadly at Noel, who grins back, the previous conversation completely forgotten. Well, that makes him two-for-two with Michael, doesn't it?

 -------

 Oasis end up winning three awards, eclipsed only by Blur, who take home five. Liam claims that they win four, though, because Alan wins the Godlike Genius award, and he’s basically Oasis, innit? Oh, fuck off, Noel, you’re not Oasis. If anything, right, I’m Oasis, ‘cause- and then Calum tunes out. 

Someone mentions something about an afterparty, because of course they do, and everyone agrees enthusiastically. They’re all getting to their feet when Liam turns to Calum with a look of surprise on his face, like he’s just remembered something. 

“Your mates,” he says, and Calum swallows. His mates. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh- yeah. I might-” he cuts himself off, but Liam gets it, and nods. 

“Want me to come over with you?” he says, and Calum hesitates. No, because I’m not sure I can handle the guilt of being around you and Michael at the same time is thrown up at him by his mind, but his heart says yes, please. I’m scared. I need you there. 

“Can you refrain from calling them all cunts for five minutes?” Calum says, because he can’t say please, and Liam grins, a sparkle in his eyes. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says cheerily, and skirts around the edge of the table, making a beeline for the table Blur are gathered around on the other side of the room, lingering and laughing at something Michael’s saying with big, grand hand gestures. He can feel Noel’s eyes on the two of them as he jogs to catch up with Liam, who strides like a fucking maniac despite the fact Calum’s got a good three or four inches on him, but he doesn’t say or do anything. That’s almost more dangerous, though, Calum thinks, because Noel never forgets, just files the information away to act upon later. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, though, because the speed with which Liam’s powering towards the table means they’re there before Calum’s really realised they’ve crossed the room, the band and the other assorted people that Calum doesn’t know blinking at them curiously. Well, blinking at Liam curiously, Calum thinks, stomach bottoming out. They all know about him and Michael talking again, don’t they? Do they know that Liam doesn’t know? Do Calum’s fucking rivals know how Calum’s betraying his own best friend? 

“Who’re you?” Liam says to Luke and Ashton, ever the fucking diplomat. “Cal says you’re his mates from Sydney.” The two of them blink at Liam, clearly not entirely sure what to make of him or the situation, until Ashton clears his throat. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Calum’s next exhale comes out a little shaky at the sound of his voice. It’s so fucking familiar, has the same intonation and confidence it’s always had, and the same thick Australian accent that both he and Michael have lost along the way.  

“I’m Liam,” Liam says, completely oblivious to the entire group of people staring at him like he’s absolutely insane. Well, Calum supposes, he must be used to that. Pretty much everyone stares at Liam like he’s insane, most of the time. 

“Oh,” Ashton says, and shoots Michael a look, like he’s not sure what to do. “I mean. We know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “We really like your album.” Liam grins. 

“‘Course you do,” he says breezily. “It’s fucking brilliant.” 

“We’ll see you at the party, Mike, yeah?” Damon says, and throws Michael a pointed look. Michael just shrugs, and Damon looks at the rest of the table, who all kick themselves into gear and start slowly ambling away from the table as they shrug their coats on, mumbling to each other too quietly for Calum to hear. Damon’s the last to go, tossing Liam an easy smile, a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again,” he says. 

“Fuck off,” Liam says, not even bothering to look away from Ashton, and Damon’s lips just twitch in an amused smile as he catches Michael’s eye, who rolls his eyes at him and shoos him away. He goes, though, turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with Graham, who’s been loitering a few tables away, seemingly waiting for him, and Liam leans forwards, rests his elbows on the vacant seat in front of him and puts his chin in his hands. 

“Who’re you, then?” he asks again. 

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says. 

“I’m Luke,” Luke says, and his voice is deeper than Calum remembers. 

“Right,” Liam says, and then glances at Michael. “Are you gonna fuck off, or what?” 

“Me?” Michael says. “No, I’m alright.” Liam narrows his eyes at him, and Calum watches a flash of amusement cross Michael’s face before he schools his features into something convincingly solemn again. 

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton says, before Liam has the chance to tell Michael to get to fuck, or whatever, and Calum tears his gaze away from Michael to meet Ashton’s eyes. 

“Hi,” Calum says, throat suddenly dry. He clears his throat, and tries again. “How’re you?” Ashton blinks at him. 

“Good,” he says, “we’re good, yeah.” He glances at Luke, as if to anchor himself, and it makes Calum’s heart ache, makes memories of Luke doing the same to Ashton five, six, seven years ago bubble up in his mind. 

“Michael says you’re a teacher now,” Calum says, just for something to say, wanting to cry at the awkwardness of the atmosphere. It seems to be the right thing to say, though, because it makes Ashton’s lips hitch up in a smile, something warm reaching his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Yeah, I teach RE.” Calum smiles at that, and he can’t help but glance over at Michael, thinking about their conversation a few weeks ago. Michael’s looking at him too, and their eyes lock for a split second, held together by a private memory, before Calum breaks it to look over at Ashton again. 

“Could’ve guessed that,” he says, and Ashton’s smile turns into a grin, something like relief tingeing it, like he hadn’t been quite sure how Calum was going to react to him. It emboldens Calum to add: “You and your fucking philosophy.” 

“Hey,” Ashton protests, but he’s still smiling. “Not all of us are cut out to be rockstars.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michael says, and Calum remembers. 

“Oh, hey, d’you still play drums?” he asks, and Ashton wrinkles his nose. 

“‘Course he does,” Michael says. 

“Well, y’know-” Ashton starts cagily, but Michael interrupts him with a scoff.

“Oh, shut up,” he says in exasperation, rolling his eyes, but it’s utterly fond. “He’s the fucking man of the scene in Sydney.” 

“You’re in a band?” Trust Liam to be suddenly interested. 

“I- well, I’m in a few-” 

“You’re in a few?” Liam frowns, and pauses, before asking: “Are you really fucking good, or really fucking shite?” 

“Really fucking good,” Michael puts in, and Liam shoots him a glare. 

“Did I ask you?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though, just rounds on Luke, and asks, blunt as fucking anything: “D’you talk?” Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks so much like that seventeen-year-old that Calum had left behind that it makes Calum’s head spin for a moment. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” Calum tells Liam sharply, who turns enough to throw Calum a look over his shoulder. 

“Just asking a fucking question,” he says, but it’s grumpy, which means he’s going to relent. 

“Michael says you’re a pilot,” Calum says, to try and ease the tension, and Luke’s eyes flit to him. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Calum says, and Luke hesitates, and then smiles. 

“Coming from you,” he says, and Calum grins back. 

“International rockstar’s a pretty good job,” he agrees, and Luke’s smile turns into a full-blown grin too. 

“Is that what you write down on visas?” he says, and Calum snorts. 

“I don’t, but this prick does,” he says, nodding at Liam, who just smiles inanely. 

“Not gonna lie to the authorities, am I?” he says, and Luke, Ashton and Michael all laugh, and it’s real. It’s not forced, it’s not polite, it’s real and amused and warm, and Calum thinks he might have ascended to another fucking plane of existence, seeing his two best friends from Sydney, his best friend now, and his- well, whatever the fuck Michael is, all getting on, if only for a moment. 

It hurts, though, because he thinks this is what it could be. This is what I could have, if Noel and Liam weren’t such fucking cunts. 

“Right, are you done?” Liam says, straightening up again. “We’ve got drugs to take.” Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke and Ashton look a little startled, and Calum thinks oh, fucking hell, but he sighs, and steps back. 

“We’re in the UK ‘til Saturday,” Ashton says. “We, uh. It’d be nice to see you. If you have time?” Calum blinks at him. Fucking hell, he doesn’t know his own schedule; he just jumps when Noel tells him to. 

“I, uh,” he says, but Liam speaks for him. 

“Could do Friday,” he says. “If you can come to Manchester.” Ashton glances at Luke, who shrugs. 

“I mean- yeah, sure,” he says, and Liam nods, satisfied. 

“Seven at the Vic on Burnage Road,” he says. 

“Is this an open invitation?” Michael asks mildly, and Liam glares at him. 

“Not to you,” he snaps, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Right, well. Nice to meet you. Me and Calum’ve got toilet lids to be getting to know. See you Friday.” Calum just blinks, not entirely sure what’s just happened, watching as Liam slopes away. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sorry about him.” 

“He’s…” Luke trails off, and Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah, he is,” he says, but he can’t hide the fondness and pride in his voice. “I- sorry, I really should- Noel’s-” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” Ashton says. “We’ll see you on Friday.” Luke’s still watching Liam, who’s now hovering in the door and throwing Calum an impatient glance, apprehension etched on his features.

“Will he be there?” he asks.

“I- uh. Seems like it.” Which is fucking insane. 

“Right.” Luke doesn’t sound too happy about that, but Ashton throws him a stern look, and he just sighs and then smiles at Calum. “See you on Friday, then.” 

“See you,” Calum echoes, and then throws Michael a glance. “I’ll-” 

“Yeah,” Michael says quickly, so Calum won’t have to say it. “Don’t worry. I know.” He smiles, and he means it, and Calum wants to cry. He doesn’t deserve Michael. 

He turns on his heel and jogs to the door, still trying to process what the fuck’s just happened. It must be written all over his face, because Liam frowns at him when he gets to the door, and then squares himself, looking a little hostile.

“What?” Liam says defensively,. “They’re your mates, aren’t they?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“And they’re not in Blur.” Calum hesitates. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, and Liam shrugs. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says easily, pushing open the door to the venue. There are no photographers outside, now, just a few wannabe groupies hanging around and a couple of cars still waiting to ferry people from the venue to their hotels or the afterparty. It’s one of those that Liam opens the door to, clambers into without holding the door open, meaning it almost shuts on Calum as he follows, just about managing to get his leg in without the door slamming on it. “But they were important to you, weren’t they?” 

“Well- I mean, yeah, but-”

“That’s that, then.” He blinks steadfastly out of the window as Calum stares at him for a moment, drunk brain trying to understand what’s going on, what Liam's doing for him, and why he's doing it.

God, he thinks, as the familiar guilt settles deep in his veins again. He doesn’t deserve Michael, and he doesn’t deserve Liam, and neither of them deserve what Calum's doing to them.

taglist: @callmeboatboy @sadistmichael @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfuckimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @currentlyupcalsass @clumthood @another-lonely-heart @calumscalm @casually-fallen

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[hunrising]

in an ideal world harry goes to niall's manchester show and he's the special guest in the real world the coop ac unit probably falls

enoughhh 😭 i have a standing ticket I cannot die by coop live ac unit

[thebowerypresents]

We’re all in this together—and we’re also all cooped up at home right now. Try as we might to keep things as normal as possible, it’s tough to not find yourself plopped in front of a TV, phone or computer screen. And with that in mind, we figured we’d share some of our favorite music flicks and where you can watch them from the comfort of your own home.

Hulu

High Fidelity Taking the baton from John Cusack, Zoë Kravitz assumes the role of record-store-owner Rob from Nick Hornby’s highly regarded 1995 novel, High Fidelity, now updated as a new series set in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, which just so happens to include an appearance by everyone’s favorite East Williamsburg music venue, Brooklyn Steel.

STREAM High Fidelity

Shut Up and Play the Hits

This documentary covers the lead-up to what was originally billed as LCD Soundsystem’s final performance (nine years ago this Thursday at Madison Square Garden) through the day after. The show includes appearances by Arcade Fire and Reggie Watts, and if you look closely enough, you’ll see Aziz Ansari, Donald Glover and Spike Jonze in attendance.

STREAM Shut Up and Play the Hits

Netflix

Echo in the Canyon Bob Dylan plugging in reverberated across the world of music, allowing folk musicians everywhere to go electric, perhaps nowhere more so than the Laurel Canyon neighborhood of Los Angeles, which in the late-’60s and early-’70s became a hotbed of counterculture, creativity and changing music, like the birth of the singer-songwriter movement—with acts like Crosby, Stills & Nash, Joni Mitchell, Buffalo Springfield, Jackson Browne, the Mamas and the Papas, Linda Ronstadt and the Byrds coming to define the California sound. Hosted by Jakob Dylan, Echo in the Canyon explores the Laurel Canyon scene via never-before-heard personal details behind the bands and their songs and how that music continues to inspire today.

STREAM Echo in the Canyon

Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé

Beyoncé’s famed, groundbreaking 2018 Coachella shows set a new standard for what a festival performance can be. And the documentary behind it provides an intimate, in-depth look at the concert and its emotional road from creative concept to cultural movement.

STREAM Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé

Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool

Get to know legendary jazz trumpeter, composer, innovator and bandleader Miles Davis through this music doc featuring never-before-seen footage, studio outtakes from his recording sessions, rare photos and new interviews.

STREAM Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool

Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese

Employing fictional and nonfictional material—you’ll have to decide which is which—Martin Scorsese’s most recent documentary uses new interviews and previously unseen concert footage to tell the tale of the 1975-76 tour for Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue, which included the likes of Joan Baez, Mick Ronson, Roger McGuinn, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and many more.

STREAM Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese

Taylor Swift: Miss Americana

Miss Americana delves into Taylor Swift’s whole life and career—and covers the making of her two most recent albums—through a series of interviews, flashbacks, studio footage, home videos and concert recordings.

STREAM Taylor Swift: Miss Americana

Prime Video

24 Hour Party People This dramedy biopic, starring Steve Coogan, covers the music scene in Manchester, England, from its late-’70s punk heyday through the city’s excessive Madchester rave culture a decade and a half later.

STREAM 24 Hour Party People

Festival Express

Back in the summer of 1970, a group of musicians led by Janis Joplin, the Band and the Grateful Dead made their way across Canada by rail, from Toronto to Winnipeg and then on to Calgary. And while the performances in each city were impressive and noteworthy, this movie shines in highlighting the onboard drunken jam sessions between provinces, like Rick Danko, Joplin, Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir covering Lead Belly’s “Ain’t No More Cane.”

STREAM Festival Express

Gimme Shelter Ostensibly, this tells the tale of the Rolling Stones’ fall 1969 American tour, which culminated in December with the Altamont Speedway Free Festival, alongside Santana, Jefferson Airplane, the Flying Burrito Brothers and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. The Grateful Dead were also scheduled to play but bowed out due to escalating violence capped off by the Hells Angels’ murder of a concertgoer caught on camera. For many, Gimme Shelter has become synonymous with the end of the ’60s.

STREAM Gimme Shelter

The Last Waltz Perhaps the greatest concert film ever, this Martin Scorsese–directed doc captures the Band’s legendary star-studded farewell performance—with appearances by some of the very biggest names in the music world, including the likes of Bob Dylan, Muddy Waters, Eric Clapton and many, many more—on Thanksgiving 1976 at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. (The festive night also included a full turkey dinner for the 5,000 in attendance.)

STREAM The Last Waltz

Sound City Produced and directed by Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl, this documentary tell the story of some of the iconic albums recorded at the famed Sound City Studios in the San Fernando Valley, including Grohl’s previous band’s ground-shaking second long-player, Nevermind.

STREAM SOUND CITY

Stop Making Sense Before going on to direct documentaries for Robyn Hitchcock, Neil Young and Justin Timberlake, Jonathan Demme captured Talking Heads at the height of the band’s prowess, closing out the 1983 tour in support of their stellar fifth studio album, Speaking in Tongues (stream it here), big suit and all.

STREAM Stop Making Sense

YouTube

Coachella: 20 Years in the Desert

While we haven’t yet seen Coachella: 20 Years in the Desert—which opens up the vault for the first time to present the performances and behind-the-scenes stories that have shaped the iconic California music festival—the trailer for this YouTube collab has us counting down the days until the flick’s 4/10 release.

STREAM Coachella: 20 Years in the Desert beginning on 4/10

Vulfpeck Live at Madison Square Garden

This funk-filled party with a heavy dose of Vulfpeck’s friends and family happened just six months ago on the big stage at the World’s Most Famous Arena, but we already find ourselves reliving it in all its glory again and again.

STREAM Vulfpeck Live at Madison Square Garden

[kae-karo]

Hi I used to be into the phandom so much but fell out in like??? 2017??? Maybe??? Has anything big happened at all? Has anyone died/caught on fire ( ;) )??

oh dear god where do i begin??? well fortunately both our lads are still alive. let me just start with saying 2018 has been like. probably the best year for dnp to date? i’ll try to go in some kind of order here but bear with me i’ll touch on a bit of 2017 stuff and then go into 2018 for ya

so first of all i’m not sure when you left the phandom in 2017 but the lads moved out of their previous flat in april of last year (x) (april-ish it was def before they posted the vid)

also our dear lil dani snot on fire is no longer not on fire (x) so uhh is he on fire now ig? i mean yeah that’s arguably true

*insert phil’s badaladala sound bc on the scale of Significant Things i don’t think anything else massive happened*

day one of demon month, we got this amazing vid from phil wherein viewers (aka dan) picked his outfits n he looked like a snacc and a half (would’ve been 2 snaccs if he’d embraced the quiff sooner but that’s getting ahead of things) (x)

!!!! then a week or so later dan posted his vid ‘daniel and depression’ where he opened up abt his struggle with depression (x) which was imo the start of him just being more open about himself in general. he also started working with young minds (a mental health org for young people in the uk) and shortly thereafter with prince william’s program to help prevent cyberbullying

then! on the day love was invented! dnp released their board game, truth bombs (x - yeah i linked the second vid and not the first, and wot) which u can buy if you’d like but it’s a lot of fun (x)

then these idiots did a conjoined jumper baking challenge and didn’t fucking wear shirts under the jumper like what dumb gays idk (x) but it was real funny and Good Content

then early nov dnp announced the interactive introverts tour (x) and then uhhh it happened (like 80+ shows??? in a ton of countries???) (x) and they’re releasing the filming of it along with some bonus content like a director’s commentary and u can preorder it (x)

also pinof 9 happened which as a legacy phan u know is always a Thing but this year it was especially a Thing so i recommend catching up (x, and the bloops - x)

and phew okay that’s the majority of 2017 Important Events but before i go on to 2018 i’ll just recap a few important events from dapg (basically just some gamingmas stuff):

wherein dan smacked phil in the face

and phil crushed the presents but dan helped him up

where phil pretended not to remember gamingmas was happening, leading to the most iconic simultaneous heart eyes howell/love eyes lester to date

dnp singing baby it’s cold outside together whilst playing yasuhati

iconic pinof 9 moment

dnp play charades but it’s phil’s turn, and he’s touchy

the not my arms challenge!!! playing mario kart

okay! and before anyone starts yelling i know there’s more but god if i put every iconic thing in this post would break there’s Too Much so let’s hop into 2018 bc it’s gonna be a long one

first i cannot believe dan fucking gave phil a philussy cake and phil’s parents asked phil what it meant jfc dan (x)

THE EARRING!!! dan’s first selfie with the lil hoop and it never leaves and we love it (x)

phil is just trying to take a selfie and dan ruins it (x) spoiler alert: phil gets him back in colorado (x)

okay big sigh two large events happen in march: the first, dan’s ‘trying to live my truth’ vid (x) it basically dan saying ‘i’m still figuring things out but i want to be more authentic and true to myself, and also authenticity is important for some people to feel happy in life’ vid that a lot of people hyperfixated on the end line of, where he said he would go ‘laugh at a joke with a chocolate bar and...something else in my mouth’ which people assumed meant a dick and therefore it was a subtle coming out vid, dan did a liveshow afterward (x) wherein he said that wasn’t the point of the vid and people got mad at him for ‘backtracking’ (if u want more of my Opinions on this feel free to check em out - x)

the second v v big event happened at the end of march when phil posted this iconic selfie that would be the downfall of the fringe (x) this has been titled the quiffening by some

shortly after that he began styling his hair in a quiff permanently which was probably the best decision he’s made since responding to one of his obsessed fans back in 2009

quick detour dan’s proud of his hubby (x) for winning fortnite and ‘fuxkung’ is now what ‘fucking’ autocorrects to in my phone

we also had dan releasing his merch (x) which is basically all black and themed around the eclipse logo and ‘don’t talk to me’, though he just released the exist line for world mental health day which has his quote ‘have the courage to exist’. he’s also mentioned possibly wanting to do more creative things like wide-necked or asymmetrical shirts dan just do a fashion line pls oh and he mentioned in a recent ls he might do an internet support group mug sometime soon

and then,,,,,pigeonfest. we watched. five hours. of phil livestreaming their patio. and literally nothing happened bc someone was like down on the street feeding pigeons so there weren’t even any pigeons for like 90% of the liveshow. but he literally didn’t talk it was just five hours of their patio and we all watched it. we all just watched it like the whipped phannies we are (x)

and then we got a brief but overwhelming dose of,,,,,,something from the easter baking vid (x) phil was hopped up on sugar and also confidence from his quiff and probably smth else as well

everything just blows up from there we have giving the people what they want (x) where, in preparation for ii (for which the underlying theme was ‘giving people what they want’), dnp reacted to pinof 1, swapped clothes, did the ‘yoga challenge’, recreated ditl manchester, ‘got a dog’, and made phil say fuck. honestly it shook the entire phandom to its core at the time but like. i’m less shooketh now? it’s sort of just fallen by the wayside in terms of how unpredictable dnp have been this year

then phil drops week in the life of dnp shortly thereafter which is just very very domestic even for them and their ditl style vids??? (x) phil filming dan in bed being one of the big demon highlights at the time

it’s right around this time too that insta stories start and my god it just goes jfc like i don’t even have the mental capacity to recall all the Iconic ones but i recommend checking out this playlist (x) which has all the ii tour stories goddamn there were a lot though they really put out that content didn’t they

in early may we get phil talking about why he changed his emo hair (x) and arguably the first official vid of the casual rebrand - phil’s more open and genuinely vulnerable about his fears about making a change to his hair, and i don’t think we’ve ever seen him that open before. the vids don’t stop being open though, with what dnp text each other (x) giving us coop and doop along with other iconic stories, dnp basically sitting on top of each other in that and other gaming vids on the tour bus, phil being very open abt his attraction to men (x) and the iconic final google feud vid with way too much of a specific kind of Energy (x) (ofc again there are More Vids but i don’t have the time/mental capacity to recap them all so i’m pickin the Big Ones)

monochrome mates (x)

phew okay so the tour in general as well - like if u don’t mind spoilers, i did a big ol analysis of what that was all about (x) but one of many many highlights is dan calling he and phil “best friends and soulmates” 

finally finally finally after months of waiting we also get some phil merch! (x) plant and animal themed, and he even released a lion plushie which sold out like instantly and he claimed he’d do more of but we have yet to see that. he says he’s got more ideas for other merch as well

now okay fast forward to october after the tour’s over bc i think the insta stories and the analysis cover it but then. then. then we get the pizza mukbang (x) thirty three minutes of dnp being more open and honest and casual than literally they’ve ever been on camera maybe ever, and i’m including liveshows in this statement. no holds barred, authentic vulnerable dnp. a religious experience

end of october spooky week hits us and i think the key vid to call out here is the creepy mind of phil lester bc i think it was another open honest authentic vid (x) where they talked a lot, casual domestic w.e got some insight into phil’s mind it was v good

and then they carve pumpkins jfc which was an experience (x) there were a lot of innuendos but also one of the first years they didn’t do a halloween baking in a while (though they have hinted at possibly doing christmas baking) idk i’m fully overwhelmed at this point lmao like a Lot happened this year

phew okay and Then just yesterday philly dropped his vid on why he went to (the) hospital (x) idk soz that’s a british thing i think like we say ‘the’ anyway. which i’ve been talking abt quite a lot lately but it was another very open and honest vid in which he expressed a lot of vulnerability and fear and perceived flaws and it was just a quality like. open vid.

jfc okay hope that helps obviously there’s a lot i didn’t mention, but this should at least get you caught up on some of the big stuff!! and while i’m at it have a few more Important Gifs from this year

a very important moment of communication whilst on tour, deciding whether or not they’re okay with doing a ‘third wheel’ pose

dan flinging himself off the chair in anger whilst playing getting over it

nose boop from phil’s instagram explore pages vid

subsequent nose boop from the extreme tetris vid

and a cheek boop from the overcooked 2 vid

dan pulling phil’s hand off the mouse in fear during spooky week, swamp simulator (shrek slender)

touchy!dan during pizza mukbang

oh god. okay. again, this is not everything, just a big list of some big events over the past year-ish. i’m sure i’ve missed some important stuff but i think i covered most of it! hope this helps ya get caught up dear!

[1dreality]

The New Direction of Liam Payne

Liam Payne discusses anxiety, romance rumours and what's next for the ex-One Direction star

Lucas OakeleyMay 30, 2019

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells and showing off adorable videos of his son, Bear, to the cooped-up crew, Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

“I’ve found in my life at the moment, because of the way things have happened, that everything’s kind of fast-forwarded,” says Payne, his dark eyes lighting up like those of a prospector that’s just panned a nugget of gold, “everything has fast-forwarded.”

Payne’s lived pretty much his entire life on fast-forward. He had his first X-Factor television appearance at the age of fourteen. He embarked on his first world tour with a little band named One Direction—you might have heard of them—only four years later. The band sold more than 50 million albums worldwide, and had four albums debut at number one in the US charts. He even found the time to meet the future mother of his child somewhere in-between. As for fatherhood, that’s a life achievement the singer notched at just twenty-three.

As Payne ambles about the studio, it’s hard not to notice that even the tattoo on his forearm bears a striking resemblance to the fast-forward button on a television remote. Or a Spotify skip button.

Having recently performed alongside Rita Ora at the Global Teacher Prize concert in Dubai, Payne looks healthy and tanned, kissed by the sun even though his visit to the region was greeted by weather not dissimilar to today’s overcast conditions. “I think the weather’s just following me around at the minute,” he says with a laugh as abrupt as the first half of a hiccup. “There’s an air of something almost Vegas-y about Dubai,” adds Payne, “everything’s a little bit of a show there.”

Payne is no stranger to bit of a show. As well as having spent the better part of a decade touring the world with One Direction (the band is currently on a definitely indefinite hiatus) Payne helped break a concert attendance record in the Middle East last year by performing in front of 110,000 people. “I didn’t eat anything at dinner beforehand because I was thinking no-one’s going to turn up,” he admits.

To make Liam Payne nervous certainly takes some doing. Back in 2009—when ambitions of winning X-Factor as a solo performer were still very much at the forefront of his mind—Payne sang in front of over 29,000 fans as part of the pre-match entertainment of a game between his local football team Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester United. A pretty heady experience for a boy not yet old enough to drive a car.

Now 25, Payne knew from an early age that he could “hold a tune”. What it took him longer to realise was that others couldn’t. “I think I thought it was just a normal thing that people could get on with,” he says with a shrug. That may well have been the case when it came to his local theatre group, but when considering most of the “normal things”that people “get on with”, we’d hazard a guess that the majority don’t involve amassing over two billion streams on Spotify.

But that’s Liam Payne for you: unassuming, self-effacing, and—for the most part—a guy who seems just genuinely happy to be here. It’s easy to forget when deliberating the merits of Linkin Park’s nu-metal masterpiece ‘Meteora’ with Payne that his face was once plastered on the bedroom walls of millions of tweens the world over.

Payne’s achieved extraordinary success in the quarter of a century he’s exhausted so far. So much so that you’d expect the moment that sparked off his passion for music to be equally spectacular. A real spontaneous Kevin Bacon dancing-in-an-abandoned-warehouse sort of epiphany. The reality is that it wasn’t romantic or sexy in the slightest. It was karaoke. “I used to go out to Cornwall and see my grandad and we’d always go to this karaoke bar and we’d sing a load of different stuff,” says Payne.

What sort of “stuff” does a future pop-star sing in a karaoke bar in a small town on the west coast of the UK? Well, the same oeuvre that you or I are have probably crooned into a microphone at midnight at Lucky Voice: ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams.

While Payne isn’t ashamed to admit that he was listening to Williams pretty much 24/7 as a youngster (“No, I really was”), one of the first CDs he bought with his own money was an Eminem record. Growing up with both Robbie Williams and Marshall Mathers as his idols, he places his own sound as “somewhere in-between the two”.

A little bit Slim Shady and a little bit Rock DJ, that intersection of pop and rap is reflected in Payne’s solo career so far. His debut single, the catchy-as-the-plague earworm ‘Strip That Down’, featured Migos alum Quavo and went on to be certified platinum in both the US and the UK. The title track of his First Time EP also saw Payne join forces with rapper French Montana. Payne’s certainly not the first popstar to align themselves with a more urban sound in an attempt to appeal to an older demographic. Nor will he be the last. The transition from squeaky-clean boyband member to fullyfledged solo artist is, after all, anything but easy. To use a Take That comparison: for every one Robbie Williams, there are a hundred Mark Owens.

When it comes to One Direction, it’s still a bit too soon to tell who the Robbies and the Marks of the bunch are going to be. “When we did the band stuff it was very—not exactly scripted—but let’s just say you kind of knew your audience very well,” says Payne. “We’d usually sell a tour out before we’d even done an album. And then they [the record producers] would go: ‘Right, you’re doing stadiums’. And then you’d go: ‘Okay, so we need longer choruses—the kind of songs that people can chant in a stadium’. You had to kind of write around the tour.”

If that process sounds a bit paint-by-numbers, that’s because—by Payne’s own admission—it was. “It’s a very backwards way to do it,” he admits, “obviously people don’t really tend to write like that. But we just had no time, so it was like: ‘Quick! We need another hit and another and another!’ It was actually easier to write in that scenario because there were so many hoops you had to jump through. It wouldn’t necessarily be my choice of music now—it wasn’t something that I would listen to—but I just knew how to make it, if that makes sense?”

Going from such a canned bop formula to a world of complete creative freedom is a daunting prospect for anyone looking to make it as a solo act. But that was far from the only challenge Payne faced. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have drastically altered the music industry since the phone-to-vote days that launched One Direction. “The way that the industry kind of works now is kind of a difficult one because of the way albums are and the introduction of Spotify,” says Payne. “When I was in the band, Spotify wasn’t really a thing for us, we didn’t really care. We used to sell a lot of albums and physical copies, so it was different for us. As I got more into the solo stuff it was a kind of, like, a bit f**king confusing.”

All you need to do is look at the chains that Payne draped around his neck during the releases of a series of sophomore singles to see a man adopting a kabuki mask that didn’t quite fit. A man who was, in his words, a bit f**king confused. “‘Strip That Down’ was amazing and I was really happy with the success of it—but it didn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me and who I actually am,” he says, “I always found, to start off with, that with a lot of the chains and the clothes and the fashion, I was kind of hiding behind something. We did a billion streams for ‘Strip That Down’ but it still all gets a bit heady and at a certain point you’re like: ‘what the f**k am I doing here?’ It’s a bit like being stuck out in deep water and you’re just going ‘well, it would be really nice to get back now.’”

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says, “and obviously at the same time I was having a baby and all that different stuff. So, there was a lot of s**t to go through at that time to get to where I am now.”

“I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes any more. I feel like I can finally be who I am and enjoy being myself”

And where is Liam Payne now? Well, he’s sat in front of me looking comparatively anxiety-free: comfortable and relaxed in a plain black tee and pair of tailored HUGO trousers. “My style and my fashion sense are all quite laid back now because that’s kind of the way I am as well. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes anymore. I feel I can finally be who I am and enjoy myself.”

The last few years have witnessed a real boy-to-man transition for the ex-boy band squaddie. A coming-of-age moment came when he arrived at Frank Sinatra’s house in Palm Springs to record his part of ‘For You’ with Rita Ora. A crooning, finger-snapping, rather embarrassingly-waist-coated rendition of ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was what Payne sang to get through his first ever X-Factor audition. Walking into Old Blue Eyes’ home, for Payne, came with the realisation that he’d “made that complete full-circle journey”.

Suffice it to say there’s no turning around for Payne in that journey when it comes to the fame front; he’s well in the thickets of the tabloid jungle. Headlines about who’s “breaking silence on romance rumours” with the popstar are a daily occurrence in the British papers. So too are accompanying photographs of his face. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Payne has, after all, got a rather nice face. The latest use of which has seen it become the face of Hugo Boss’s latest HUGO menswear line.

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Boss comes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

Previous Hugo Boss ambassadors include the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Jamie Dornan and Gerard Butler. Handsome faces. Familiar faces. Faces that are now forever immortalised in the public conscience. A fact that Payne is all-too conscious of himself. “I was looking through the different people that they’ve had on their roster over the years and they’re all people that I look up to,” says Payne, “So, I’m obviously quite excited but it’s also a bit daunting because these things,” he spreads his arms in a gesture that aptly sums up the rigmarole of press junkets and interviews, “are literally around for forever now.”

Moving from location to location and outfit to outfit, it becomes evident that dressing to hide who he is, is no longer on Payne’s agenda. As he’s grown (both figuratively and literally) in the public eye, and Payne’s now come to accept the lane he’s in. “I’ve become more in tune with things now,” he says, “as the years go by, I think you gain a different level of confidence and find out what works for you and what doesn’t, rather than constantly trying to be something that you’re not. If that makes sense?” It does.

What makes less sense is why Payne decided to go with chains in the first place “It was quite funny at the time when everyone used to get really mad about it,” he says referencing outraged headlines like: Sleepy Liam Payne leaves a London studio wearing a HUGE gold chain. “It just didn’t really matter to me.”

What matters to Payne is when those stories affect the lives of those around him. One particular article published in the British newspaper, The Daily Mail, last year that attempted to insinuate he was romantically linked with a member of his team irked Payne so much that the usually apolitical Twitterer took to social media to criticising the newspaper.

“The difference with that story was that the people that they were putting me with have families, boyfriends, girlfriends,” explains Payne, “I go home every night and know that people write horses**t about me daily. I won’t worry about it because I know it’s f**king bulls**t. But for someone who’s never had a story written about them before? If they go home and their partner’s reading the paper going like: ‘what the f**k is this?’ It’s difficult for them to be able to explain that.” Payne’s voice ratchets up a few decibels when he says this. He uses more than a few words we’re not legally allowed to print. I can tell that he cares about this. That it needles him. That it’s not something he has to say, but rather something that he needs to say. So, I let him.“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

The only way for Payne to cut through that noise is by doing the thing he knows best: making music. “Everything I do is very, very public a lot of the time. I get reported on a lot for different things. I just think there’s a certain line where I have to have my say. And that there’s only one way for me

to do that—which is through my music.”

The din of noise that Payne has to compete with has increased somewhat substantially over the last two years thanks to the addition of his son, Bear. Although Payne attests that Bear is as “good as Goldilocks”, he’s aware that being a dad and a popstar aren’t easy responsibilities to balance.

“People make it out like a lightbulb comes on and suddenly you’re a dad and it’s like… no. [Being a father] is something you have to learn and I’m not afraid to say it takes more than a f**king minute to get your head around the idea of what it is.”

Payne might not have his head fully around the concept quite yet but, as we talk about his relationship with Bear, it becomes evident that Payne’s already nailed one of the most important aspects of being a dad: caring. “The not understanding is the most difficult bit,” he says with the weariness of a father well above his years, “especially when you have a toddler who doesn’t understand how to communicate and you can’t understand what they want.”

Communicating as a public figure becomes increasingly difficult when navigating the glut of information that exists online. Do a quick Google search for ‘Liam Payne’ and you’ll be greeted by countless fan sites with a never-ending litany of “facts” about the man. Facts like:

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths”

“Liam Payne sleeps naked”

“Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

While Payne is quick to assure me that most of what you’ll read online is straight B.S., one fact did keep cropping up again and again. And I mean, c’mon, I couldn’t not ask him about the spoons, could I?

“Yeah, I did have a fear of spoons,” he groans with the weariness of a man who’s been pelted with countless pieces of cutlery, “but it wasn’t so much a fear as something that’s now turned into a thing because of the internet. I was forced in detention once to wash up dirty plates and spoons and I think it just put me off looking at how dirty some of these spoons came back. But people used to throw spoons at me in concerts! I should have said I had a fear of pillows—that would have been comfier.”

All things considered, a fear of spoons is a fairly harmless rumour to spread. But rumours rarely ever are. Most are vicious; spreading like wildfire and burning all of those they touch. “I’ve been dead,” says Payne abruptly. “People I love have been dead.”

The non-stop 24-hour nature of the news cycles can be overwhelming to read, let alone to be involved in via the announcement of your own death. “You have to learn fast and we [One Direction] had to grow up pretty quick in the circumstances that we were under or else you kind of f**k it a little bit,” he says. If you’ve ever seen clips of The Beatles or BTS getting mobbed on the streets, you know the kind of hysteria that can ensue when boyband members are seen out in public.

“I don’t think I struggle in the sense of what you would naturally think of when I’m walking down the street with every person stopping me,” says Payne, “I mean, it happens sometimes but it’s mainly mentally where you struggle with it. It’s the getting ready and always knowing that you might be photographed.” From elaborate airport fits to the loungewear he puts on to pick up a pint of semiskimmed milk from the shop down the road, there’s never a moment where Payne and his clothing aren’t in danger of becoming front page news.

One of the ways that Payne combats that simmering anxiety is by going for a run at 5am every morning. It’s probably why he’s been able to maintain his sanity so far. And probably why he’s in—as evidenced by his numerous topless Instagram photos—such great nick.

I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

“I love it. I get myself outside and into the day and get past that fear of ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what if that happens?’. Because, for a long time, I became—what’s the word?” says Payne, gesticulating wildly as if he’ll catch the phrase careening around his head like a runaway wasp, “there’s a word for this condition where you stay inside and never leave, it’s in Ocean’s Twelve…”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

“Yeah, that’s it. I developed a bit of agoraphobia. I would never leave the house. And I do sometimes suffer with it a bit in the sense that I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I worry for a moment whether Payne is feeling that same feeling today but decide instead to take likely misplaced solace that my innate knowledge of the Ocean’s film franchise has won him over. “I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol. I can feel it now—it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car thinking ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

Many people suffer from moments of panic and instances where we feel crushed by the weight of the world’s expectations and Payne is all-too aware that his specific anxieties stem from a position of privilege. “Unfortunately, it does happen to everybody in this industry,” he says, “I think at a certain point you just have to get over it as quickly as you can.”

There we are once again: back to doing things quickly. Back to being on fast-forward. Back to doing countless interviews in specifically allotted time slots. Back to that constant pressure where “everything happens a little bit quicker in my world than it does in everyone else’s”.

Everything might be happening a hell of a lot quicker for Liam Payne than me, but I’m still interested to know: what’s next for the man? What does he want to achieve in the not-yet fast-forwarded future? “I’m hoping for something a lot more than what I’ve done so far, if that makes sense?” Having listened to Payne’s solo discography in preparation for this interview, it really does.

Sure, Payne’s produced a spate of bonafide bangers—songs that will have you singing along as you whip down Emirates Road—but they’re also songs that are, for the most part, still formulaic. They’re catchy, glossily well-produced, yet contain something of an air of inauthenticity about them.

And, having met Payne, I can’t help but feel they seem at odds with his unabashedly authentic self. As he tells me: “People can see right through that s**t and it’s difficult for you to then go and say ‘buy this record!’ if you don’t really believe in what’s going on.”

So, what does a man who’s (sort of) afraid of spoons actually believe in? Moreover, what does a man who eats ice cream with a fork want to be remembered as having believed in? “I’m obviously really happy with some of the stuff I’ve done. Like breaking world records with the band and all sorts of amazing stuff. But in the recent years, it’s been a bit topsy-turvy with me kind of finding my way. And I’d rather not be remembered for a lot of those things. I want to make a really amazing album that’s not, like,” and he air-quotes here, “important, but something that people really get into. Something that makes certain people feel a couple things. I think that would be the best thing for me. I just want to make people move, if that makes sense?”

In case you haven’t already noticed, that question (‘if that makes sense?”) is practically punctuation to Payne. It’s a caveat that ends many of his statements; an interrogation of his own beliefs and a moment where his PR armour reveals its chinks and offers a glimpse of the man beneath the surface. A man that is equal parts cocksure and uncertain—a man who’s very rarely both and almost never neither.

While he might be living on fast-forward—and shows no signs of slowing anytime soon—Liam Payne, for the moment at least, might just be in the midst of the most interesting time of his life. His legacy is currently being written, awaiting the day we’ll eventually look back with a clearer idea of whether he’s a Robbie Williams or a Mark Owen. As for me, I’m just hoping that the next evolution of Liam Payne’s career is a lot more Liam Payne than the last. If that makes sense?

[coopdigitalnewsletter]

8 Oct 2019: The AI will interview you now. Uber work. Amazon rumours. Facebook leak.

Hello, this is the Co-op Digital newsletter - it looks at what's happening in the internet/digital world and how it's relevant to the Co-op, to retail businesses, and most importantly to people, communities and society. Thank you for reading - send ideas and feedback to @rod on Twitter. Please tell a friend about it!

[Image: Bladerunner fandom]

The AI will interview you now

Face recognition technology and AI is being used in job interviews in the UK “to identify the best candidates”, says the Telegraph. Unilever and other use HireVue’s AI to 

“analyse the language, tone and facial expressions of candidates when they are asked a set of identical job questions which they film on their mobile phone or laptop. The algorithms select the best applicants by assessing their performances in the videos against about 25,000 pieces of facial and linguistic information compiled from previous interviews of those who have gone on to prove to be good at the job.”

It’s not doing face recognition, it’s doing behaviour recognition. Something like: “These facial and speech behaviours are correlated with the interviewee being a good employee - thumbs up, +4 career points”.

It’s natural that this feels a bit wrong because humans are unique and special, right? In truth though, they are bound by fairly predictable behaviours, and really it’s not that hard to have a computer watch the face of a human and make judgements. It’s science you can trust, and in fact it weeds out bias because the machine doesn’t care, unlike a human interviewer who’ll bring loads of messy biases. So it’s a good thing, it’s progress.

Oh sorry wait, it’s a science you can trust as long as the data the machine learning model was trained on was large and unbiased. And as long as none of the interviewees look different to the ones in the training data. And as long as the machine learning doesn’t inadvertently amplify any systemic biases in the hiring organisation’s practices (or Hirevue itself’s). And as long as interviewees can meaningfully give consent to be catalogued by a machine. And as long as no discrimination law is being broken by having the computer say no. And as long as some job applicants aren’t freaked out by being video-interviewed by a Voight-Kampff machine.

Here the newsletterbot is guilty of bias: it believes humans to be sufficiently complex that it will be hard to effectively “machine learn” the problem that is organisations, their people, their culture, their politics, the webs of motivations and incentives, their jobs and the humans that might potentially fit well.

Still, HireVue says they’re serious about ethical and accurate machine learning, so fingers crossed 😬. An interesting read on video interviews. YouTube is full of videos about how to do well in a HireVue video interview, here’s one. Watching them, you’re struck by the asymmetry: the machine and later an employer watching your interview video, but you seeing nothing except the questions and the webcam’s black eye. So interviewing would be perhaps be a bit fairer if the employer also had 30 seconds to consider and 3 minutes to answer on camera the interviewee’s questions.

Unrelated, but relevant because it’s about bias and how it and power are inadvertently expressed in technology: “Google contractors allegedly offered darker-skinned homeless people $5 dollar gift cards to scan their faces for facial recognition software”.

Uber work

Uber’s temp agency platform, Uber Work has launched in Chicago. The company says: “We believe that finding work shouldn’t have to be a job in itself. For positions as diverse as being a prep cook, warehouse worker, a commercial cleaner or event staff, Uber Works aims to make it easier to find and claim a shift.”

Here’s a fictional look at temp workers in 2023, and hopefully Uber Works doesn’t nudge work in that direction. Something that empowers shift workers is a better model: “crowdsourcing information about what it’s really like to work somewhere, turning it into recommendations about employers that could be better for you” (from plucky UK startup Poplar).

Elsewhere, a successful taxi co-op: “A worker owned taxi coop in Southend has grown from 6 to 70 drivers. They repaid all their investors and returned £3000 to their members last year. The same year Uber left the area after failing to compete with them.”

Amazon rumours

Amazon to sell its Go technology to airports, cinemas, sports venues? Interesting if true - eventually there would be a tension between the platform and the grocery businesses (see also: Ocado in 2017ish).

Amazon is said to be hiring property experts in UK.

Similar rumour: but in Los Angeles. A dozen leases have been signed in Los Angeles, reports the Wall St journal. 7 burning questions about Amazon's new grocery chain.

Facebook leak: trust deficit internally?

A Facebooker leaked audio of an all-team Zuckermeet. The media reported it as FB boss Zuckerberg saying he’d fight (too) hard against politicians etc, but the transcript suggests that his comments were actually fairly standard stuff. This story is more notable for the fact that an employee recorded and leaked the meeting - growing cultural/trust deficit internally, perhaps?

Cryptocurrency news

Paypal has pulled out of the Facebook-led Libra cryptocurrency consortium, saying that it’s not you Libra it’s me. Rumours: Mastercard and Visa aren’t so sure either.

Police auctioned off £240,000 of cryptocurrency confiscated from a hacker - if it had been a confiscated 3 Series with a spoiler kit and spinner rims you’d have expected to be able to snag a good deal, but money’s money so maybe there wasn’t a discount in this case.

“The pain in my jaw from holding just one cryptocurrency had reduced me to an all-liquid diet. I was not cut out to be a trader.” - a good piece on the subsistence lives of small-scale cryptocurrency traders (also a decent backgrounder on cryptocurrencies).

Other news

How grocery pickup is evolving - supermarkets trying to make click-n-collect faster.

Supreme Court hands victory to blind man who sued Domino's over website accessibility - see previous story on this.

Climate Action Tech: “empower technology professionals to play our part - to meet, discuss, learn and take climate action” - needed because the tech industry uses a lot of energy.

No good urban ebike deed goes unpunished. “Horrible. One good deed rewarded with a scary blend of the so-called sharing economy, the commercialisation of communal spaces, and authoritarian surveillance capitalism, all sugared with the unbearable style of wackaging. May every dockless bike and scooter scheme go bust as soon as possible.”

Workshop tactics for agile teams - looks good.

Job ad for Ocado developers is neatly placed in the website’s code.

Previous newsletters:

Most opened newsletter in the last month: competing with Amazon Go. Most clicked story: Why don’t we just call agile what it is: feminist.

News 1 year ago: curated convenience and paying with your data.

News 2 years ago: eGovernment (single digital market) and first mile logistics (Amazon keeping inventory in retailer warehousing).

Co-op Digital news and events

What the data and feedback show about 3 digital services in our Food stores.

Public events:

Manchester WordPress User Group - Wed 16 Oct 6.30pm at Federation House.

Tech for Good Live vs the climate crisis - Thu 17 Oct 6.30pm at Federation House.

Business Growth Hub - Moving your business forward - Mon 21 Oct 12pm at Federation House.

Meet the expert - marketing approach - Tue 22 Oct 12pm at Federation House.

Meet the expert - hints and tricks on social media - Wed 23 Oct 1pm at Federation House.

Human values in software production - Tue 5 Nov 6pm at Federation House.

Practitioners Forum: vital lessons for key co-operators - Thu 7 Nov at the Studio, Manchester.

Pods Up North , an event for podcasters - Sat 23 Nov 9am at Federation House.

Mind the Product - MTP Engage - Fri 7 Feb 2020 - you can get early bird tickets now.

Internal events:

Digital all hands - Wed 9 Oct 1pm at Fed House Defiant.

Co-operate show & tell - Wed 9 Oct 3pm at Fed House 6th floor kitchen.

Food ecommerce show & tell - Mon 14 Oct 10.15am at Fed House 5th floor.

Delivery community of practice - Mon 14 Oct 1.30pm.

What has the web team been up to? - Tue 15 Oct 1.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Health show & tell - Tue 15 Oct 2.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Engineering community of practice - Wed 16 Oct 1pm at fed House Defiant.

Targeted marketing (CRM) show & tell - Wed 16 Oct 3pm at Angel Square 13th floor breakout area.

Membership show & tell - Fri 18 Oct 3pm at Fed House 6th floor kitchen.

More events at Federation House - and you can contact the events team at  federation.events@coopdigital.co.uk. And TechNW has a useful calendar of events happening in the North West. 

Thank you for reading

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If you want to find out more about Co-op Digital, follow us @CoopDigital on Twitter and read the Co-op Digital Blog. Previous newsletters.