#This was literally just off the top of my head improvising words that rhyme (as is obvious from me rhyming the word

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[elsewhereuniversity]

Visited, or Visitors? (a weird college story)

So this is my own Weird College Shit story and requires some set up. I had my first year of college in 2009-10, and I spent it at a tiny school in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by farms. The nearest major city was about three hours drive away. The small town I lived in was literally built around the college. My apartment was to the east of school grounds, and my high school best friend (we’ll call her Elise) was in the dorms on the opposite side of campus.

Elise was heavily involved in the drama department. I was in the improv troupe, but my depression and social anxiety meant I was more of an outlier than a “true” drama kid at the college. (They tended to devote all their time and energy to whatever play was happening at the given time and I just… couldn’t.) As a result, while Elise was invited to every drama department-hosted get together in existence, I only found out when she asked if I wanted to go along.

It was Halloween and while most of the college students were at a huge party being held at an apartment as far from campus as possible in this Nowheresville of a town, one of the seniors in the drama department had rented out the black box theatre for the night. Dress code was 1920s and 1940s, and they’d hired a few members of the school’s junior jazz band for live music.

Elise forgot to tell me until the day of the party. As a result, while her hair and make up were perfect and she was dressed in a pretty, beaded and fringed dress from a play she’d done in junior high, along with a faux fur coat borrowed from the props department for the occasion, I had nothing era-appropriate. I ended up going in my clubbing clothes - a mini black dress, a leather jacket, skull-print stockings, and my knee-high, PVC bitch boots. (The heavy jewelry and black lipstick was just a required addition at that point.)

Please keep in mind that neither of us had anything to drink that night, so everything that happened hereafter was while we were both stone cold sober.

We arrived late, only to find we weren’t really welcome. Everyone was acting… off. (We found out later that one of Elise’s “friends” had been spreading ugly rumors about her, jealous that Elise had gotten a part for which they had both tried out.) When we approached folks to say hello, they were polite but talked over any of our attempts to join in their conversations. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and at the time we had no clue why, which was aggravating. Despite the party going to till 2 AM, the pair of us decided to call it a night after half an hour, heading back to Elise’s around 11 PM.

Despite never talking about it,  the deal whenever we went somewhere late was always that I would get Elise back to her dorm room, then call her as soon as I got to my apartment. (Neither of us had a car, and of us two I was the paranoid one who carried a knife and pepper spray, and had no problem telling people who were creeping me out to fuck off or being willing to actually dial the local police dispatch number if my instincts started screaming.)

We were walking through the middle of the deserted campus on the way to Elise’s, when we passed the bell tower. (Just to clarify, the “tower” is actually three open blocks built of bricks, the first one five-by-five across, and the same in height. Each block was progressively smaller, stacked on top of one another with four clocks set into the sides of the top block, all showing the same time.) What caught my attention was the three people sitting in the open space underneath. They seemed about our age, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Two guys and one girl, all wearing beanies, light coats, and flip flops despite the cold. (It was low-30s Fahrenheit, or 0-2° C.)

One of them had a bongo drum. He was keeping a beat, while the other two traded lines of improvised poetry.

I slowed down enough to figure out what they were saying. Elise was shivering, but I was wearing more layers than her so I didn’t feel the chill as strongly. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d plopped myself down beside the trio and pulled Elise onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her to keep her warm.

I nodded to the last person to speak - the girl. The three of them were staring at us, but eventually she repeated the last line she’d said, and I responded with a new line.

We went back and forth, from me to the girl to me to the boy, and around again. Bongo Guy started to up the speed of his beat pattern with each turn. I can’t repeat a single line from the entire time now, and only have a distant memory of feeling lightheaded and high. (A few days later when I asked Elise about it, she told me our words were about the moon and old gods and eternity vs the human life span. She said she’d been surprised and caught up in the whole thing until she didn’t care that she was freezing her ass off.)

This went on until the bell above us started to chime the time - 12 AM. I was suddenly aware of how bad Elise was trembling from the night air, and the cold I’d been ignoring came creeping up my body. I finished a pair of rhyming lines as I stood and helped Elise to her feet, then gave the trio a little bow. (I was in a traveling Shakespeare troupe in high school. You don’t finish a verse of poetry without a bow. It’s Just Not Done.) I wished them “a lovely All Hallow’s” and goodnight. They nodded and stayed seated.

I got Elise to her dorm then headed for my apartment. On the way, I passed by the bell tower again. The three people were no longer there.

No names were exchanged that night, and in the two semesters Elise and I were at the school, neither of us saw them on campus or in the town before we left the school.

My favorite part about the whole thing is that from my perspective, these three modern beatniks were strange and possibly magic. But from their point of view, what did me and Elise seem like? Two girls you don’t recognize (one wearing a flapper dress, and one looking like she just walked out of a 90s goth club) invite themselves into your poetry circle on Halloween, three days before a full moon. One of them matches you, line for line, for nearly an hour. And as soon as the clock strikes Midnight, they leave. You never see them again.

-tornthorn

[gigsoupmusic]

Gareth Inkster shares delightful new release "Used To It"

Hamilton, Ont. singer-songwriter Gareth Inkster has been feverishly releasing music since 2018, with a discography that spans nine singles and an EP, with much more on the horizon. His newest release, "Used To It," is intricate and harmonically complex, yet a catchy and memorable indie-pop single. Listen to his newest track "Used To It" now and read our interview below! Can you talk to us about the inspiration behind your latest single, "Used to It"? There are two kinds of songs that I tend to write. There are the harmonically interesting, lyrically nuanced, inventive ones, and then there are the ones with more conventional harmony, unadorned lyrics, and fewer moving parts. These latter ones are usually way easier to write. They tend to be the knee-jerk, sort of reflexive songs. It’s usually when things haven’t gone right and I’m feeling the weight of it that I sit down at my piano or with a guitar and just take the path of least resistance. “Used to It” is of the latter category. I wrote “Used to It” upon arriving home from my former girlfriend’s house. We’ve been through the wringer a bunch of times and I really was hoping things could get worked out between us but it wasn’t in the cards. In the moment I felt sort of okay, but I knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before things took a turn. The image came to mind of one of those unfortunate souls in an old-time western movie who had been tied to the train tracks and abandoned. For the time being I was fine, but the blow was coming. I sang the first line to myself, sitting on my couch, then and there, “Lay down, the train will be here soon..” etc. and immediately went up to my piano and wrote the rest of it. The whole process probably took 10 minutes in all. It was one of those (precious and too-infrequent) instances when I don’t actually remember fretting over this word or that word - trying to make things rhyme, etc. It just took shape on its own, really.  How do you think your community has contributed to your success? Immensely. I love music more than just about anything and I’ll continue making it and engaging with it for as long as I can. That said, if I were to release something and none of the people who I care most about took any interest in it, that would be pretty hard to take. It’s often genuinely hard for me to discern the dividing line between my music (what I do) and my identity as a musician (who I am). People’s acceptance, appreciation for, and interest in my music really does feel like a microcosm of their disposition toward me as a person. I know that’s not necessarily a good thing, nor is it probably true, but that’s how it feels. Consequently, my community’s support not only of me in general (and they are so supportive) but of my music too really does bolster me in a big way. It has always been my dream to play meaningful music for people. The fact that there is a crowd of people out there who want to hear it is honestly one of the few most precious things in my life.  What was the first thing that got you interested in music? I was raised in a pretty intensely music family. I’m the third of four boys, and we all played a stringed instrument (I was on violin) and the piano. We had lessons for our strings every week, and we had to thoroughly practice both literally every day. With the exception of practicing, I always took to it pretty naturally and loved the recitals. Music was always my best subject at school, and all the teachers I had took pains to really encourage me to see where I could go with it. On top of that, both of my parents were constantly listening to good and eclectic music when I grew up. The first CD I ever bought was Abbey Road, at my father’s guidance, followed closely by Magical Mystery Tour and Ram by McCartney. I listened to those albums with obsessive devotion and taught myself to play those songs on piano. I owe it all to my parents, truly.  Describe to our audience your music-making process. For some reason, most of my songs are born at the piano. I consider myself a guitarist as much as I do a pianist, but the songs tend to start at the keys. As far as a process goes, different things work at different times. Sometimes there’s a particular line or refrain which things form around, while other times I have a melody in my head and I improvise lyrics on top of it. I try to take advice from people like Thom Yorke or Jeff Tweedy. I’ve read that neither of them are terribly particular with which lyrics the song starts being written around. There’s something to that, too. I’ve had some of my best lines come to me through stream of consciousness. After it’s written, I tend to demo it quickly and with feverish enthusiasm, neglecting whatever I should be doing that night. It almost feels like a kind of mania sometimes, but I figure you ought to make hay while the sun shines. Once it’s demo’d I send it to a select crew of friends who know what they’re doing, and they send me feedback. Sometimes I heed them, other times I don’t. After a few days, once the arrangement is firmed up, or I’ve heard things that bother me, I’ll make adjustments and then set about recording the good-copy version of the song. Depending on the arrangement I can do that all at my private studio, although I tend to outsource for drums.  What advice would you give other musicians? I’m not good at general truisms. I would feel much capable of offering advice if I were talking with somebody one on one. That said, something that has been very helpful for me is the idea that anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Obviously it would be worth doing well, too, and you should do it well if you can, but if it’s worth doing then it’s worth doing, period. You’ll have every reason in the world not to do it, but you should, because it’s worth it anyways. I regret heaps of mixing decisions I made in the past few years on past releases, because I simply didn’t know better. Would I be better off if I hadn’t released those songs? Absolutely not.  How did it feel when you released this new music? It felt really good. When I wrote this song I was high on it for a good while. It’s like gasping with excitement and you can’t exhale until the song is released. I’m just really glad people are hearing it and liking it.  And finally, if you could collaborate with any musician/band, who would it be? And why? Oh wow that’s a big question. I’ll confine it to people who are still living (honorary mention to Elliott Smith, though). I think my biggest inspiration currently when it comes to writing and arranging is a tossup between Chris Thile and Robin Pecknold. Thile is such a brilliant freak and his chord changes so often just bowl me over. He’s a really brilliant melodist, too. His melodies just thread their way through the most out-there chord progression like a laden clothesline on a windy day. It’s as though everything should be chaotic, but if you pay attention there’s this essential uniformity which holds it simply together.  Pecknold is so good, too, and for very similar reasons really. Unlike Thile, Pecknold isn’t a virtuoso on his instrument (not that I know of, anyhow), but he’s a brilliant composer. I think Crack Up is easily one of the best albums of the past ten years. He is so committed to his own creativity that his work takes on this very special, saturated depth. Throughout the album there will be these subtle motifs of chords simply spelled the same way - the sort of thing which is never heard, but you come to feel it and associate it with the album. The harmony will blow your mind if you’re not expecting it, he changes metre whenever he feels like it, and yet not at the expense of cohesion. It’s really something. I would love to be a fly on the wall while he is creating.  Read the full article