#My Melody & My Sweet Piano Headers

[dracocorpse]

   𝅼    ୨ 🎀 ׂ 𖹭 divider by me

[litcism]

like/reblog if u save/use :P

[panbimbogirl]

[minimiffy]

sanrio my melody and my sweet piano packs ♡

[dull-crayons]

🎀ıllıllı❁𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓼𝓽 ❁ıllıllı🎀

[strawbnick]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Sanrio Christmas Headers!! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

[sanrio-my-beloved]

By My Melody on Twitter – Shared by mymelodyange1 (Tumblr)

Reblogged 09/03/24

[songforeddiemunson]

Morning Melodies

Eddie Munson header edit created by and used with permission from the incomparable @somnambulic-thing

For the @stcreators Event 04: Music

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (description vague apart from AFAB) Summary: Eddie and Reader engage in some romantic morning sex. Warnings/Tropes: Established relationship, pure romantic smut (fingering, oral, fem receiving, p in v sex) Note: I love guys who can play the piano. I think it's sexy as hell. Guitars are great, don't get me wrong, but imagine if Eddie could play the piano too? This is purely self-indulgent. Word Count: 1300

You opened your eyes and stretched languidly as wakefulness overtook you. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, and a faint summer breeze stirred the white sheer curtains.  You glanced at the bedside clock; it was almost 8:30 am.  Eddie was gone; he must have let you sleep in.  You pouted slightly; you so enjoyed being able to wake up beside him, and the mornings when you could lounge in bed together were too few.  Eddie had been on tour the last several months, and you only were able to see him a few times. You always missed him terribly when he was away.

As you sat up, the faint sound of piano music drifted to your ears.  It was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, an achingly beautiful, soft melody. You closed your eyes and smiled; soaking it in.  You loved to hear him play.  

You slid out of bed naked and put on a discarded white button up shirt that Eddie had worn the night before. You took a moment to breathe his scent; after all this time, he still intoxicated you.

You padded downstairs and around the corner to the sitting room where Eddie played. You leaned against the door frame for a moment before entering; watching him.  He was dressed only in red plaid boxers with his long hair cascading around his shoulders. His dark curls glinted with hints of chestnut in the morning sun, and he looked as if he strolled out of a Botticelli painting. A beautiful, dark angel.

You moved quietly toward him, not wanting to interrupt the beautiful music he was making and ruin the moment.  Once you reached him, however, you couldn’t help but touch him; if only to remind yourself that he was real.  You stepped behind him and snaked your arm over his left shoulder, around to his chest.  You bent to press a kiss on the spot where his neck met his left shoulder; one of your favorite places in the world.

He didn't move or stop playing, but you felt him smile.  "Good morning," he said.  "I hope I didn’t wake you."

"You know I love to hear you play," you breathed into his neck, and kissed it again. "Good morning."

He chuckled.  "Damn, you're learning all of my tricks."

You came around to face him, leaning on the edge of the piano, but careful not to get in his way.  "Don’t change your ways on my account."

He smiled at you beatifically. When the sun caught his eyes just right, you thought they looked like honey; a glimpse into the sweetness within that he reserved only for you.

You stuck out your lower lip in a mock pout. "I was sad not to see you in bed with me when I woke up.  You know how I like to wake up slowly with you, and, um…acclimate each other to the new day."  You sighed, and smiled.  "This does make up for it though."

You walked around to the back of the piano, and climbed on top of it. He watched you with a cocked eyebrow but said nothing.  You walked slowly down the length of the instrument, almost to the flow of the music, and stopped at the edge, looking down on him.  Carefully, you lowered yourself down to a sitting position; legs crossed.  His expression took on an intensity that made goosebumps prickle along your skin.

Carefully, so as not to interrupt him, you placed each foot on one of his shoulders. He turned his head and kissed your left ankle, then gave the skin of your calf a little nibble.  You gasped, your breathing picking up pace.  You slowly unbuttoned the shirt, his shirt, fully exposing yourself.  You loved hearing him play, but you needed him to touch you.  You bit your lip in anticipation.

You tilted your pelvis so as to make yourself more accessible, and without missing a note, he rose up from the bench and leaned forward.  You felt his warm, silken tongue draw up the length of your slit, and you moaned.  He licked your entrance for a moment, and then his mouth closed to suckle on your clit.  Your legs shuddered with the pleasure of it, and you fought to remain upright.  He alternated between sucking and licking, sending you into paroxysms of ecstasy.  You felt your climax building, but suddenly his mouth was gone, leaving your heat aching with the need for release.

He stopped playing and stood up, eyes blazing.  He stared at you hungrily as you lifted one bare foot and touched his bulge with your toes.  You drew your foot slowly up his length, and his head fell back as he groaned. He reached down and pulled the band of his boxers down just enough to release his cock. You smiled at the perfect sight of him; his tatted and toned torso visible through his unbuttoned shirt, his impressive length standing at full attention.  

He grabbed your hips and pulled you to the very edge of the piano, and gently entwined the fingers of one hand into your hair.  He slid two long, skilled fingers into your heat, pushing them in as far as they would go.  He probed and hooked his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right places, and you gasped and moaned, hips squirming.  He could obviously tell by your wetness that you needed no further preparation, and after a few moments, he withdrew his digits.  He grasped his cock, and pushed the tip into your entrance. “Yes,” you moaned breathlessly.  "Please Eddie.“

He thrust his hips forward, sinking the full length of him into your depths in one, deliberate movement.  He kept one hand in your hair, holding you still as he thrust into you languidly at first, gradually picking up speed.  You attempted to moan his name, but all that came out was an ecstatic cry.  Your skin slapped audibly as he pounded into you; one foot slipped off his hips and smashed the piano keys, creating a cacophony that made Eddie chuckle despite his efforts. This carried on for several minutes; your mingled breathing punctuated with the occasional sour note caused by your foot hitting the keys as Eddie fucked you.  It wasn’t long before a powerful orgasm washed over you; your walls tightening on his cock. The force of the climax was unrelenting, and your hips bucked as the waves of ecstasy washed over you again and again.  You cried out; it was as if your very skin was on fire, and your mound tingled with a new sensitivity.  

"God...fuck..." he panted, and his teeth clamped down onto your left ear as he climaxed, grinding his pelvis into yours as he pumped his release into you.

He kissed you deeply before gently untwining his fingers from your hair, and braced himself with his hands on the piano, catching his breath.  You stroked the curls that framed his face.  "I've missed you Eddie,“ you said softly.

"I missed you too babe.  Enormously."  He gave you another peck on the lips before withdrawing and pulling up his boxers with a snap.  "You didn’t let me finish the song," he said with a wink.

You laughed and hopped off of the piano. "There will be time for that later.  First, coffee."

"Nope," he grinned at you, shaking his head.  "First shower.  Then coffee."

And so the melody continued, and the mingled sounds of your love and joy was a special kind of music indeed. 🖤

Thank you for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of all fic writers. Please show us some love! :)

MASTERLIST

[saikih]

simple pink headers! like or rb if you save! ‹𝟹

[peachy-coral]

( 🍑) ↷ …  like or reblog if you sαve ♡

[airi-p4]

Miraculous escape - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Thank you @alittleshycat for the header and wanted posters pic! 💙 Thank you @brickercupmasterx3​ for proofreading! 💙 ___________________________________

I’m not forgetting my multichapter fics, don’t worry! I’m just slow ^^; This is a short chapter. Enjoy!

A/N: This story is Lukanette + Adrigami endgame.

Chapter summary:

The band has its first rehearsal and Marinette has an unexpected talk with 'Lucia'.

AO3

_________________________________

Chapter 3: first rehearsal

The next morning, both men had probably been staring too much at the band’s singers while waiting for all the members to get ready for their rehearsal. Everytime they made eye contact with the women, they would look away to chat with each other. The same scene repeated a few times- too many to be considered normal. The men panicked in fear of having been discovered.

"Don't look, but Marinette has been staring at you for a while with fierce eyes", Adrien suddenly warned, agitated.

"Kagami is the same, my friend." Luka answered, equally nervously.

"Do you think they discovered our secret...?"

"I hope not! Shit! She's coming!" Luka jolted, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Marinette too!" Adrien exclaimed, placing his hands on Luka’s arms.

Just a few steps later, the women were in front of them.

"Hello" Kagami started. "I don't think I caught your name before…?"

"I'm A-! NOIRETTE! I'm Noirette. And she's Lucia" he squeaked while Luka nodded.

Kagami never looked at ‘Lucia’. Her stare was piercing through Adrien's pupils like a sharp-edged fencing sword- directly to his heart. The youngest man gulped.

"How old are you? I don't remember seeing you around. Where have you played before?" Kagami asked.

"I- I've never played in a band before. I was a solo pianist..."

"Really? Because I think I would remember a face as pretty as yours. I'm Kagami Tsurugi. Nice to meet you.” She finished with a wink.

Was she... flirting with Adrien? The boy couldn't help himself but to squeeze his hand on Luka's arm, trying not to jump from happiness. ' The girl I like noticed me!' , he internally screamed. Kagami's eyes narrowed at the familiarity of Adrien's touch to his friend. Sadly for him, Madam Mendeleiev called 'Noirette' to get his piano ready, and the conversation had to abruptly stop. Kagami looked disappointed, but there was nothing she could do about it. She resigned- even if it was only for now.

Meanwhile, Marinette had a killer look on her face that hadn't disappeared since she planted herself in front of Luka. Her eyes studied everything about him. Luka gulped: 'I'm finished. She knows'

"YOU!! Come with me!" she ordered, dragging a stunned Luka to the bathroom. "Undress" she commanded once there.

"What?" Luka blinked, still hypnotized by her beauty and her unexpected authoritative tone, which made him feel even more attracted to her. ' I'm so dead. I knew I could never pass as a woman. I knew I shouldn’t have said yes to that drink yesterday night. Thank you for at least letting me meet this girl before I die. I wish I could have kissed her before dying but thank you anyway for- '

"I can't bear to watch this anymore! Undress" she insisted.

"No! I'm shy!" Luka squeaked, trying to sound as feminine as possible. Marinette’s eyebrows frowned even more as she aggressively pulled his clothes. ' It’s over ', Luka thought while he squeaked again in an octave he wasn’t aware he could reach.

"You're a fashion disaster! We need to change that immediately!"

'What? Fashion…? ' He internally questioned, blinking a few times.  "Oh… is- Is this outfit that bad...? I don't have anything else…" Luka mumbled.

"Oh no! That's terrible! A disaster!” Marinette screamed out loud with her hands on her head. “We're going shopping as soon as possible! We have to fix that!!"

Luka blinked. ' was he safe? And more importantly: had he just been invited to a date? '

"A date…?"

"Shopping! After rehearsal! Understood!?"

“Understood” he gulped, intimidated. Moments later he pinched his cheek to check if he was dreaming. His grin widened at the pain on his skin: ' I have a date! ' he internally fuzzed, while Marinette walked away to rehearse.

The rehearsal took place for hours, always under Juleka’s observant and threatening eyes. Adrien had been the most scolded one in the room- naturally, considering he had been playing classical music most of his life. But the fun of high-paced melodies and tempos was something he had always wished to try out- and he loved it!

Luka was surprised by the high-level of the band members. What surprised him the most, though, was how Madam Mendeleiev was an excellent conductor. He felt like he owed her more respect now, and felt a little bad for having underestimated her just for her grumpy personality. She was a professional.

Playing with 'Miraculous band', whether it was boleros, salsa, international hits, swing or anything, was very enjoyable for the fugitive men, despite its performance difficulty. And when the rhythmic and wind sections could finally play in harmony along with the singers- it was the best feeling they could experience.

Friendly, energetic and talented members, an amazing band conductor… and the two most beautiful singers they had ever met. It was like a dream come true- except, Juleka, with her deadly glare, never failed to remind them it was actually a nightmare in the form of a sweet illusion, bound to end in a few days.

Air seemed to abandon Adrien’s lungs when Kagami practiced for her solo violin sequence- absolutely astonished with her elegance and audacity; and Luka couldn't help but miss a few notes when he saw Marinette playing the tambourine- she was too cute for his bad boy heart.

Whenever they had a five minute break, Adrien would fuzz to Luka over how fun the practice was, and soon the other girls would join them enthusiastically. When practice ended, it was already lunch time. They were exhausted and still had half-way to go- until late evening. After lunch, Marinette approached ‘Lucia’.

"Hey… It seems we won't be able to go shopping today…" she lamented, her eyes finally meeting ‘hers’. "Wait! You're Lucia! From yesterday! Oh, no! Sorry I've been so rude before! Is your nightdress in the laundry? Let me pay for the expenses! As a thank you for yesterday's help and company" Marinette kept rambling. ' She is adorable, ' Luka thought, giving her ' THE FACE '- the one that, according to Juleka, he only displayed when he had a big crush- with a blush and a wide silly smile on his face.

"It's ok, Marinette. I'm a little hurt that you forgot about me, but it's fine. We can have that da- shopping outing" he corrected himself "tomorrow, while they build up the stage. There's plenty of time in the afternoon"

"You’re right. But I- I didn't forget about you! I was too focused on your horrible fashion choices to notice your face… Ah-! Sorry!” her hands hit her face. “I've done it again, haven't I?" Her head sank in low spirits. Luka couldn’t hold his smile.

"It's fine, don’t worry. I'm looking forward to our da- shopping outing" he said, reaching over to her chin and pushing it up to meet her eyes. "Let's have fun tomorrow"

"Yes! Don’t worry, Lucia! I'll make you look the prettiest!" Marinette exclaimed, hugging a puzzled Luka, who was paralyzed under her arms. "See you later!"

__________________________________

The afternoon rehearsal didn't include the singers. They were, in fact, training with Monsieur Damocles, who checked on their vocals. The rest of the members were, mostly, supervised by themselves, as Madam Mendeleiev took individual tests with each one of the bandmates to detect possible flaws in their ways of playing. Once again, Adrien took the biggest blow in corrections, but thanks to that, he progressed considerably in just a few hours. No doubt the rumours about him were true- he was a genius pianist.

Luka didn't escape from being scolded either, mostly for his playing style: perfect for rock, too aggressive for ballads and too chaotic for Madam Mendeleiev's tastes. They were aiming to make people from all ages dance to any kind of music and he felt like he also learned a bunch, too.

When dinner was over, they were so exhausted that Marinette, Kagami and Adrien fell asleep on some coaches in the common room. After carrying Marinette to her room in princess style (and successfully holding his urge to kiss her goodnight), he tried to wake Adrien up, shaking his body as he called his fake name. “Shh. Noirette. Wake up”. Luka wanted to give Adrien the chance to spend some time alone with Kagami, but his plan failed when it was the short-haired woman, the one that opened her eyes instead.

“Where’s Marinette?” Kagami immediately asked.

“Back in your room. you should go back, too. I’ll take care of Noirette”, he said, lifting his body and moving towards the elevator.

“Ok… Good night” Kagami sighed, biting her lip and staring at how ‘Lucia’ carefully carried ‘Noirette’ to their shared hotel room.

[sunshinesukuna]

friend activity

pairing: midorima shintarou x reader

wc: 1.2k 

genre: flangst

insp: 12:45 (Stripped) — Etham

summary: he’s always looking out for you in the most unexpected ways, even when he won’t admit it himself.

an: tb to that one time i was listening to some music on spotify and i... accidentally?? (🤡🤡🤡) saw my friend listening to a playlist her ex made??? lo and behold they walked into class the next day holding hands??? even tho my friends told her like a thousand times that he was toxic af? 🤡🤡🤡🤡 

Midorima opens the familiar green app on his phone and puts his earbuds in. His lucky item of the day. Debussy and Chopin have always done great jobs when he was anxious. The piano’s sweet melody fills his ears as he leans back in his chair. He takes a long breath. Another. Midorima scratches his head. 

The yellow light above is reflected on the frame of the photo that he took last Christmas. It was near the huge Christmas tree in the middle of town that you had begged him to see all December.

The same place where the two of you had just had your first big argument. In public, nonetheless.

He takes off his earbuds. The sheer force of his nails scratches his earlobes a little. Midorima runs his hands over his face, his glasses pushed up to rest atop his leaf green hair. No matter how many times he tries to console himself, the image of your tear-streaked face refuses to leave his mind. 

The thrumming of the rain outside does little to extinguish the dread in his gut. It only amplifies as he opens his phone, a picture of you in the rain as his wallpaper. 

"Cancers need to have a photo of their loved ones in the rain, nanodayo!" he had argued. Anyone that had tuned into Oha Asa that morning would have known that Cancers would have needed golden buttons instead. But you let Midorima have the benefit of the doubt.

Midorima has never been a man of apologies. All the problems around him would seem to just work themselves out without any interference. The last time he verbally, directly, apologized would be in second grade. Would this be another one? His foot shakes from where it hangs on his thigh. It is rhythmic, unlike his brain patterns as he tries to figure out how to jump this hurdle.

Music floods back into his ears again as he opens Spotify, this time on his laptop. The cursor lingers between “Claire de Lune” and “Air on the G String”. But his eyes have found something more interesting.

There is only one person under his “Friend Activity.” The same profile picture you use for Instagram and other social media platforms smiles up at him from the screen. The audio symbol next to your profile shows that you’re listening to music too. 

“dried teardrops 🌚” is the name of the playlist you’re playing right now. A playlist, he remembers you telling him, you only turn on when you feel the absolute worst. 

Midorima scrambles to his phone that is charging on his nightstand. He almost trips over the soft carpet as he curses himself in his mind. Carefully bandaged fingers skid along the phone's surface.

Are you ok? 

Midorima throws his phone on the bed. You’re online. Typing comes up briefly on the screen before it dissipates and is replaced by a smaller grey seen. The green bubble next to your profile disappears, signalling your inactivity.

He puts his hands on his hips and runs his fingers through his hair. It's only 9 o'clock. If he runs to your house now, you would probably just be getting ready for bed.

Had the two of you been getting along just fine, maybe you'd finish the day off with a facetime of him doing paperwork in silence, only broken when you switch apps to go back to TikTok. He would catch a brief glimpse of you laughing, and the world would turn as normal. Ok, maybe he does miss you. But only a little bit.

You haven't stopped listening to the music. The only thing that's changed is the song you're listening to. You stay on the same playlist. 

Midorima glances at the clock, then back at the profile on his laptop. With a sigh, he laces up his shoes and heads out the door. 

There's a small park near your house that's empty at this time of the night. The children at play are tucked happily in their beds. As you should be. The orange varsity jacket clad figure on the swing tells him otherwise. His varsity jacket, he notes.

The sand crunches under the footsteps behind you. The tinkle of the chains on the swing betrays your attempt to be as quiet as possible. No sudden movements, you tell yourself. Your keys are in your hand, the claw ready to deploy. You stand up a little from your seat on the swing, waiting for your moment to take off. Your other hand tugs the jacket closer to your form. 

“I’m not going to kill you, nanodayo,” a familiar voice chides. The hand holding the keys refuses to go back into your pocket. His green hair is invisible in the dark, but you would recognize his baritone from anywhere. You hastily wipe away the snot on your nose.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask. Midorima takes a step forward. He gulps, rather audibly.

"There's only one place you go to when you cry," he says. You sit back down in the swing. He moves to sit on the swing, miniscule against his hulking 6 feet and 5 inches, but he makes do. 

Your hand grips the chain holding the swing up. Midorima sighs before extending an arm. Soft bandaged fingers brush the tips of your knuckles on the chain. Before you know it, his warm chest is right in front of you, a knit grey sweater you gave him on his birthday a few months ago now becoming a makeshift handkerchief. 

He makes no movement to push you away. How could he? After pushing you on the ropes even though you were just looking out for him? The only thing left to do, Midorima concludes, is to hold you tighter. 

And so he does. Arms hardened by years of chucking basketballs in the air now gently caress your smaller ones. Eye bags under green pupils that check you up and down, making sure you're okay. Brittle fingers trained to perfection by four years of surgical residency now wipe the tears off your face as he somehow, someway, tries to make things right again. 

When you've run out of tears and stopped hyperventilating, you scoot a  little farther from Midorima. At arm's length, you can finally see him in all his late-night glory. 

"I never told you I was crying, Shintarou," you manage, each word punctuated with a soft sniffle. You burrow closer into his tall frame and hide your face away from the world's scrutinizing eyes.

"You were listening to your crying playlist, dummy," he says. It's good that you're not looking straight into his eyes, lest you see the pink hue on his cheeks. Maybe he even pulls you closer to him to hide it even more. You giggle at your boyfriend's unexpected attentiveness. 

Midorima pulls you away from him. You whimper a bit at the loss of warmth, but are instantly placated at him tugging your jacket tighter around you. A long arm finds its home around your waist. "Now come on. We have outpatients to see tomorrow. Can't have a drowsy doctor at work, nanodayo."

He never really says the words "I'm sorry" or something along the lines, but the basket labelled This week's lucky items for you in his doctor's handwriting on your desk the next morning does most of the talking for him, anyways. 

a/n: do y'all like the header 🌚🌚

sometimes you can choose not to be a dick

[thepermanentrainpress]

THE IMPOSSIBLE STAIRCASE – A CONVERSATION WITH ANDREW JUDAH

Andrew Judah is based in Kelowna—but don’t call them a Kelowna band.

“It’s impossible not to be influenced by your environment in some way, but I’m not writing about the Okanagan and the sound is not based on anything to do with the Okanagan,” their frontman (and namesake) told us over coffee earlier this month.

“Yeah, it might be shaped by the people you spend time with… less by the lake,” bassist Caleb McAlpine chimed in beside him.

Fair enough, some of the band members themselves having grown up or spent extended periods of time in other cities. Andrew Judah was a solo project first; his debut album, The Preacher’s Basement, came out in 2011.

Judah still writes the material and handles most of the instrumentation on studio recordings, but the group of like-minded musicians has been a boost to his live shows and creative process. McAlpine even co-produced the new record with Judah – or, in the latter’s words, “pulled me back from the ledge when I was having doubts about something, or about to delete everything.”

Impossible Staircase, set for release on April 20th, pulls back from the synth-y melodies of Judah’s last album. It was written about a close friend’s battle with addiction, and ties into an overarching concept of being trapped in a feedback loop.

There is piano, guitars, and drums, but also hints of the less conventional—violin, autoharp, trombone. The recently released single “Burn it Down” is eerily cinematic; Judah’s lyrics are a mix of metaphor and literal, his vocals poised amidst the pulsing rhythm.

Impossible Staircase by Andrew Judah

One of the few instruments Judah didn’t play on every track himself was the drums. Most of the percussion was recorded by Zac Gauthier – who was featured on Judah’s last album, Metanoia, as well – in a cabin near Salmon Arm.

“There are some pretty explosive moments [on the record] that only he could pull off,” said McAlpine. “He is amazing,” Judah agreed.

Chloe Davidson, who is a member of Kelowna bluegrass quartet Under the Rocks, handled violin duties.

Every song on Impossible Staircase flows into the next as if in – you guessed it – a never-ending cycle. Judah also incorporates Shepard tones—audio illusions which give the impression of a pitch rising, or falling, forever.

“It’s a loop, but it tricks your ears into thinking you’re hearing this very stressful, continuously descending sound,” Judah said of the technique. (Film score composer Hans Zimmer is a fan, if you needed another reason to appreciate its emotive power.)

Judah’s favourite song on the album changes day to day, but at the time of this interview he settled on “Lose My Mind,” which will be released as a single on Friday.

“It’s just a very sincere song about a very serious topic, and I managed to do it in a way that… I don’t hate?” He laughed. “It’s hard to write from an honest place about something that’s happening in your life, and not have it be cheesy. I’m pretty critical of things that feel cheesy.”

McAlpine went with “Penrose” – a seven-minute tune that has proven to be quite the challenge in rehearsals.

“There’s a repeating line that feels like it goes on for two minutes… there's no room to breathe. I'm going hard on a shaker, playing keys, singing, and I'm just not thinking. Almost every time without fail, I feel like I'm about to pass out.”

It’s something we don’t often consider—complex arrangements, pieced together between the walls of a studio, written with the headphone listener in mind and not the immediacy in having to recreate them. Rehearsals are the first opportunity the band members have to flesh out the songs for their live show.

Andrew Judah was set to embark on a BC tour this month, but postponed the dates due to COVID-19 concerns. Victoria was one city they were most looking forward to revisiting; they played a sold-out show at Vinyl Envy in October, and have also been on the bill for Psych & Soul – an annual music showcase put on by the record store.

“Really good community there,” said McAlpine. “We will never not go to Victoria to play shows.”

In light of the circumstances, they recorded a live set at Judah’s studio, Sounds Suspicious. It can be enjoyed with a glass of wine, and a friend, providing that friend is streaming the video from the confines of their own home.

The band is no stranger to larger crowds, having been a part of Skookum, Vancouver Fringe Festival, and Rifflandia in recent years. They were scheduled to play the (also postponed) AltiTunes Festival at Big White alongside Canadian rock darlings Arkells and Dear Rouge.

But there’s nothing quite like the charm of a room, and they lean towards intimate, self-made events at coffee shops and other less traditional venues when performing locally. It is time consuming, Judah acknowledged, but makes the end experience that much more worthwhile. “Everything is intentional, as opposed to playing in a bar where half the people might not even be listening.”

The most anticipated part of their set is also the most unpredictable: the group marches from the stage to the middle of the crowd, and play a song without the use of mics or amplification.

They’ve done it surrounded by hundreds under the cozy lights of Canoe Coffee Roasters, to a lone table of three in Port Alberni. It is a moment that lends itself to connection and vulnerability – and audiences have been receptive to that.

“It turns things from look at what we’re doing, to look at what we’re engaging in,” McAlpine said. “We go back on stage and it changes from that point on.”

The cover art for Impossible Staircase was drawn by Max Weiner, who also did the art for two of Judah’s previous records. Keeping with the cyclical theme, it shows an ouroboros – a snake eating its own tail – in the shape of a DNA strand—“which speaks to our behaviour being more ingrained than not,” said Judah.

The last music video Andrew Judah put out was for “Best in Show” – a song that will appear on the new record, albeit a more resonant version than what is currently released.

They don’t have any others in the works, McAlpine noting it’s something they’ll revisit once the album is out, and they see an opportunity to carry the art forward.

“I'm not a giant fan of music videos in general,” said Judah. “I don't think they’re worth doing unless they're something that can stand on their own; truly another way to look at a piece of music, as opposed to just… (The PRP: A band performing it?) Yes, exactly. That feels reductionist to do it just because.”

When he’s not working on material under the Andrew Judah banner, the frontman is a freelance composer for film and television.

It started back in 2012, when he remixed the song “Let Go” by New York experimental artist Son Lux, a.k.a. Ryan Lott. Lott’s day job was as a composer at Butter Music; one thing led to another, and Judah was offered a residency there himself.

Asked how the commercial avenue has influenced his approach to solo material, Judah admits he wasn’t very intentional with his writing when he started out. “Music was just this thing that happened… the inspiration would lead wherever it led. Since it became my job, [I think more about] what sounds are going to make people feel a certain way. It’s been an education in what to do with my own music.”

McAlpine has his own solo project, Common Fires, and a new single coming out April 13th. But he had always wanted to play in a band, and joked that he was “very sad, very bored. Never getting any better, just getting more sad and bored; slightly worse,” in the solitary endeavour.

He returned to Kelowna in 2014, having not lived in the city for about 10 years, and was planning to move again when the opportunity to collaborate with Judah – whose work he was already a fan of – arose.

“It’s been a very fruitful relationship,” McAlpine surmised.

The other members of the live band are Nathanael Sherman (guitar) and Kevin Dreger (drums). Sherman also releases music under the moniker N. Sherman, and put out a single titled “Sweet Boy” last week.

So, it seems Impossible Staircase is a fitting analogy for the musicians themselves. Multi-faceted and never satisfied. Continuously pushing their craft.

“You as a musician are probably always practicing,” McAlpine said. “You’re never not riding that bike.”

And we can be appreciative of that.

Written by: Natalie Hoy Header image by: Nathan Peacock

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