#WHATEVER. ITS KENDRICK AND ME AGAINST THIS INDUSTRY

[bbqhooligan]

my bad broski i was not familiar with your game 🫡 yeah i have been a drake hater for years & tbh ever since pusha t's story of adidon released i was praying for his downfall but it all got pushed to the side and was so anticlimactic. because music industry keeps hiding and uplifting the freaks and the predators! i was so mad abt drake cowering and posturing like he's still the king while he got exposed (for me, this was meet the grahams before meet the grahams was a thing). but i get you, and i also heard j. cole's new song too and man... kendrick made these two go on a downward spiral. motherfuck the big 3, it's just big me indeed! so i agree i'd rather want king kenny ft. megan AND YOU KNOW THE MUSIC VIDEO WOULD BE FLAMESSS MEGAN IS SO CREATIVE AND FUN SHE WOULD MOST LIKELY BRING THE FUN PART OUT OF KENDRICK TOO. CARTOONS AND CEREAL PART 2.

OMG ANON YEAH I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABT A POSSIBLE MV THAT WOULD GO SO HARD lmao im scared to hope i didnt even consider that holy shit. but yeah with drake, like with all male celebrities theres a small part of population that holds onto the "bad info" but everyone moves on and youre left feeling crazy like GUYS I STILL REMEMBER HE DATED THAT MODEL AS SOON AS SHE TURNED 18 THAT HE MET AS A MINOR so it was historic KENDRICK LAMAR went "nah i remember too youre not crazy" jesus woah.

also i saw a yt comment that said "damn kendrick wasnt lying it really is Big Him" and ive been cackling calling him the Big Him

[lunarsights]

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨, 𝙈𝙞𝙣 𝙃𝙚𝙚-𝙟𝙞𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙔𝘽𝙀: 𝘼 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“Macarena” by Blitzers

“Youtiful” by Stray Kids

“Rover and Benz” by Aint Afraid

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Death (Rx), Queen of Coins (Rx), Seven of Wands, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, The Lovers (Rx), Four of Swords (Rx), Two of Coins, Seven of Coins

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

they could be feeling a little neglected, or they could be focused on trying to save themselves/the group/one another when it comes to the situation - maybe helping one another take care of their mental health or figuring out how to ignore/overcome hate comments. they don’t feel defeated! that’s for sure! they feel “ready for the fight ahead” and “for whatever comes out”. they seem stronger than even they let on (at least publicly or at least they’re stronger than they’re portrayed to be). although there’s some apprehension about bringing up the past, it’s also giving “it’s been a long time coming”, so they could see this as a way to “tell the(ir) truth” or as a way to feel refreshed and “unburdened”

they could feel a little conflicted about this idea of following their dreams though; “things not turning out as they seemed” and “not being as stable” as they might’ve wanted. this could also be recognizing that they were kids and didn’t really know what they were signing up for; “didn’t know we were signing up for all this”. they could feel some stress and maybe somewhat overworked - more “overwhelmed”; “it’s a lot”. they could be figuring out how to balance their emotions and personal feelings about what’s going on with continuing to work and push through. their thoughts seem to be if they push through, then things will be “alright” in the end.

𝙈𝙞𝙣 𝙃𝙚𝙚-𝙅𝙞𝙣'𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“History Has its Eyes on You” from Hamilton the Musical

“Snooze” by SZA

“No Place Like Home” by Todrick Hall

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Six of Swords, Two of Swords, Justice (Rx), Ten of Cups, Nine of Coins, Knight of Swords, The Sun, Ace of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

“things are finally coming out”. min hee-jin could feel as if things are in a transition period; “the world is healing; i am healing”. “dawn of a new age” is also coming through, so she could feel as if she’s ushering a new “aesthetic” or “plan” for the industry.

“i have to make the tough decisions”. she could feel as if things are an “uphill battle” like she’s “against everybody”. the energy reminds me of how people described the entire industry wanting to see drake’s downfall and kendrick just being the person who was able to deliver the final blow - i’m unsure if min-heejin in drake or kendrick in this though. she could feel as if she’s clearing out the corruption and “dirty underbelly” of the industry “and HYBE is just one example” - she could expose more?

she could feel very calm and maybe calculated about everything that’s happening - like she always knew it would happen in a way. she could feel as if things are going to work out in her favor, and she’ll be rewarded “for [her] efforts”. she could feel “ready to go to war”.

𝙃𝙔𝘽𝙀'𝙨 𝙀𝙭𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨' 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“Gangsta” by YG & Mozzy

“Bossa Nova” by Kash Doll (Feat. Tee Grizzley)

“yes, and?” by Ariana Grande

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Two of Swords (Rx), Page of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

they could feel as if they’re in a “no win situation”; something about “stock going down either way”; they could also feel this negatively affects their reputation regardless of what happens. they might not even care about what the law says or how “legal proceedings” play out to an extent because the finality of what happens is up to God/the universe/a higher power. they could have some insight about how things will play out in the end; they don’t seem to be as “in the dark” about things that people may feel they are. they could have “very strong plans behind the scenes”. at the very end, there is kinda this “burn everything” sentiment - not totally sure what that is.

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙁𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 (𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 - 𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱)

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“See You Space Cowboy…” by Logic

“Take A Break [Interlude]” from Hamilton the Mixtape

“Cheetah Sisters” by the Cheetah Girls 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

The Star, King of Swords, Justice (Rx), Seven of Wands, Page of Coins, Nine of Swords, Five of Swords, Three of Swords, The Devil (Rx), Seven of Coins, Four of Swords, Ace of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

lots of swords and wands energy, so i could see them working on an album and/or continuing to practice despite everything happening. some of the members could write songs about the experience - a type of “cheetah girls realness” if you will. the members could continue to feel hopeful about everything, and there could be slivers of hope about the continuing of the group as time goes on; “it’s not over ‘til it’s over”. 

as expected, law will play a big part in everything. everyone could be (even if they don’t admit it) in the mindset that emotions are no longer important - the way to win is and that means being rational and winning over the courts “of law and of public opinion (for some)”. things may not turn out as expected in this area though; “even the courts can be corrupted; even public opinion can be tainted”. i’m asking about a small time frame, but everything will definitely take longer than and persist for more than a year. those with the better foundation/logic starting out may be “the winners” so to speak. 

there could be a lot of anxiety and conflict over whether or not newjeans will have a comeback. there could be “creative differences” and “issues” that pop up. they could start something, but it could be “shelved” or “uncompleted” and cause the members to feel “some type of way” - mainly upset? “heartbroken?”.

newjeans will be separated from someone with The Devil in reverse. HYBE and min hee-jin will separate in some way, but obviously newjeans is the “item” both will be fighting over huh? i can see a lengthy hiatus with maybe single releases sprinkled in with Four of Swords present. 

min hee-jin could get to keep newjeans - The Fool, Two of Cups, and other cards compared to HYBE’s Nine of Coins (Rx) and King of Swords. HYBE could “cut their losses”.

𝙄𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙄𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“FNF” by Stray Kids

“That’s What You Get” by Paramore

“Black & White” by Todrick Hall (feat. Superfruit)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

The Hanged Man (Rx), The Devil (Rx), Ace of Cups (Rx), Ace of Wands, Six of Coins, Eight of Coins, Ten of Cups, Seven of Wands (Rx), Two of Cups, Queen of Swords (Rx), Judgement, Eight of Wands (Rx), Two of Swords, Wheel of Fortune

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

obviously, they’ll experience some career delays as a result of all this. “i’m catching up” keeps sticking out from Stray Kids’s “FNF”, so they could fall behind their peers compared to how it is now where a lot of 4th/5th gen girl groups seem to be at an even fight. whatever former views the general public now has of newjeans could be very different in the future; i know some people say newjeans comes off as school-girlish or not knowing a lot but people could see them as very mature and “well-tempered” or “well-behaved” after this. people could feel a little weird about them though? or the industry? like they “can’t look at things the same”. maybe the public or companies start being a little cold towards them or they can’t reach them like they once could. newjeans and their team themselves could feel a little “shaken” about everything, and this could cause their creativity to falter some. this creative block will only be temporary though! so, things could be looking bad for one comeback or single release or so. 

maybe once newjeans is a little more transparent about the effects of everything people will be more receptive? then, the public could feel sympathetic and the girls will feel unburdened because they won’t be holding back and things will “click” so to speak. then, they may feel like a more unified group and the public will start accepting them again, or they’ll start being “the newjeans [we] used to know”. but overall, newjeans will be very burnt out and exhausted after all of this; “that perseverance can only last so long”; it’ll take them a while to regain their balance, but it’s possible. they will feel bitter about everything though; “we could’ve gone so much farther” or “we could’ve gone an easier route” could be their point of view. 

the way everything (this whole drama) ends could feel fast paced and “out of the blue” possibly. with judgment, whatever doesn’t become uncovered will come to light in the end. some may feel people won’t/don’t care enough about what all will/is coming out, but in the moment it will be shocking and cause headlines. overall, newjeans will probably stay together, but their careers will definitely be stunted by this. it will take them a minute to get back on track and make up for lost traction compared to their peers. they won’t gain as much success and fame as they would’ve without this whole situation happening, and their fame could be capped to how famous they are right now (they could come back to this level of fame, but i don’t see them going above it like people originally expected).

[athenadcvell]

THE NEW FIST OF HYDRA - THE SEARCH [ 4 ]

Chapter Links: [ONE] | [TWO] | [THREE]

Word Count: 1,529

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"Nice place you got here," Natasha remarks as she studies the small shack that Bucky had come to call a temporary home. The former soldier looks up in surprise, setting his bags back down on his bed.

"It's not much, but it kept me in peace for a short time," Bucky replies, his blue eyes traveling shortly around the tiny home, before returning back to his things. Instead of his usual Wakandan attire, he's dressed in a green army style jacket and blue v-neck, a black cap in hand.

Natasha nods, her green eyes remaining trained on Bucky as he continues to pack. Under her gaze, the former assassin shifts uncomfortably, before meeting it.

"You're keeping something from us, Barnes," Natasha beats him to speaking. "I know what you told Rogers the other day- Sam and I weren't that far away from earshot. But there is something else you're keeping from us," Bucky swallows down the frustration building up in his chest and stuffs a few shirts into his backpack, atop a bag of knives.

"If I knew something, don't you think I would tell Steve?" He shoots back, giving her a pointed look. The hero raises a brow, frowning.

"I don't think so. Because whatever this is, it's scaring you. And if something has the ability to scare the Winter Soldier, then it's a bigger threat than you first anticipated," Natasha shares her findings, taking a step closer. "You know something about this weapon, and you choose not to share your knowledge with the rest of us because- even after everything we went through- you still don't fully trust us."

"You don't know anything about me," Bucky snaps angrily, glaring at the red head. Natasha's lips only turn up slightly in a knowing way.

"Do you even know yourself, Bucky Barnes?" Natasha questions, giving him a curious look. "I don't trust you- I'm sorry, but I can't. If whatever this is has any chance of putting us in greater danger than we already are-" Natasha takes a threatening step towards Bucky, her eyes turning to slits. "-I will not hesitate to take you down."

Bucky's jaw clenches as Natasha swiftly turns around and exits the shack, her heels clicking against the path.

When he no longer can hear her, the super soldier collapses onto the bed, his head falling into his hands.

Of course he knows more than he's letting on. And he was stupid to think he could hide it from the team. Sam? Of course. Steve? Maybe. But Natasha? The assassin sees right through the walls that he's built up.

After a minute of thinking, Bucky hoists himself up and zips the bag up, slinging it over his shoulder and following down the same path that Natasha had taken to the Wakandan palace.

<><><>

"Are you sure you can't come? We could really some cat-kicking-ass action," Sam shoots out the question, once again, to the Wakandan king. T'Challa gives him a small smile, sighing.

"I would, but there are matters here in Wakanda that I must attend to. If you ever need a place of to stay, however, my home is forever open," T'Challa remarks, nodding.

Shuri grins at her brother, turning back to the ship which the four heroes begin to load into. Before Bucky can get on, she latches onto his arm and pulls him back.

"Do not forget what you learned, Sergeant Barnes," Shuri smiles, tilting her head. Bucky nods, returning the smile.

"I won't, Shuri. Thank you, for everything," Shuri waves him off, shaking her head.

"The lab gets boring every now and then. I can't say it wasn't interesting to have a super soldier in our care," Bucky chuckles softly, giving her one last smile. However, Shuri does not fail in detecting the fear and pain lingering in his eyes. "What Hydra did to you was not your fault. When you face them," She begins, her smile falling. "You must remember that they have no control on you. Good luck," She quickly pulls him into a short hug, before stepping back and allowing him on board.

Sam follows him shortly after, Steve and Natasha already on board. T'Challa and Shuri watch as the ship lifts into the air, and flies off beyond Wakandan borders.

"Let us pray that they do not get themselves killed on this mission," T'Challa murmurs grimly, his features turning into one of a frown. Shuri rolls her eyes and slaps his arm.

"Stop being such a worry wart, brother. They are the Avengers. What could go wrong?"

<><><>

"Who is this?"

Raina gives Dr. Dimochka an emotionless look as he holds up the tablet in front of her. On the screen, glows a photo of a dark skinned man, his hair put into short braids.

"I thought you were supposed to test my knowledge on modern day things. How does a picture of a man help me in that?" Raina snaps, frowning. Dr. Dimochka waves his hand forward, urging an answer out of the teen. Raina sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering, "Kendrick Lamar."

"Who is he?"

"Rapper. Who are you going to show me next, Taylor Swift? Justin Timberlake?" Raina glares at the scientist. Dimochka holds up a hand to stop her.

"I was going to start out simple," He murmurs in his Russian accent. "But if you think you know so much about pop culture, let us move on to something a bit more complex."

He flicks the screen a few times, before settling on an image and holding it up. Raina studies it for a moment, her glare turning back to a frown of confusion.

"That's... That's Stark Industries technology. Created by... Tony Stark," Her voice quiets down at the last part. "Son of... Howard Stark. H-he was a scientist that helped in creating Captain America," Raina winces as a throbbing pain forms in her head. "Jesus, how long have I been asleep?"

Dimochka nods in satisfaction, clicking the tablet off. As he gets up, brushing off the white lab coat he wears and smoothing back his dirty blonde hair, he motions to the exit.

"Come with me. There is something Crossbones wishes for you to see," Raina stands up as well, this time out of training attire.

Instead, she adorns a simple black shirt with the Hydra symbol on the right breast, skinny black pants, and sneakers. Her loose waves fall short at her shoulders, the dark color contrasting against her pale eyes.

As the two round a corner, Rumlow awaits them. It's similar to the room Raina had been frozen in, however, larger with a higher ceiling. The wide room holds several glass containments, most empty. However, a few hold mannequins with combat suits held up in them.

Rumlow waits by a containment in the center, his hands crossed over his chest and a content smirk on his lips. As Raina nears him, he nods to Dimochka, who is quick to leave the room.

"How was your training?" Rumlow asks as the assassin comes to stand by him.

"Fine," Raina mutters, her attention focused on the containment glasses. "What's this?"

"This," Rumlow turns towards the one they stand in front. "Is the uniform of the former Winter Soldier- James Buchanan Barnes," Inside lays the black plated suit, one sleeve missing. On the face lays a black mask and goggles.

"I know," Raina shrugs, turning back to Rumlow. "I meant, why are you wasting my time and showing it to me?" Rumlow gives her a hard glare for a split second, before turning back to the display case.

"This suit is a suit of failure. The suit of Hydra's most prized possession gone to flames due to lack of leadership," Rumlow explains, walking to the case beside it. He flips a switch, a light illuminating the contents within. "This, is a suit that will display the future of our organization. You will display the future of Hydra."

Raina slowly approaches the case, her eyes wide with awe as she studies the suit hung up on the mannequin.

It has a few similarities to the former Winter Soldier suit, however, for the most part, the suit is its own. A Kevlar body suit, the halter neck reaching up to below the chin, the sides outlined in a bloody red. The outlines meet in the chest of the suit to create the Hydra symbol, and deep red, metal plated boots covering up to the knees. A black mask similar to the former Winter Soldier's lay against the mouth and nose, however, the black goggles have been lost. Instead, replaced with black visor glasses, a long red shield in the middle of the frames already programmed with data to assist on missions. Leg straps and a utility belt hang on the body as well.

"This is the suit I wear on missions?" Raina asks softly, her pale blue eyes wide. Rumlow smirks, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"You are the new fist of Hydra, Raina Barnes. The new Winter Soldier," Holding his chin high, he adds, "Hail Hydra."

After a moment, Raina opens her mouth to speak, a soft, quiet two words escaping.

"Hail Hydra."

[dreamgloe]

808s & heartbreak | chapter one

as newly minted staff producer at bighit, you are lucky for the opportunity but even luckier when you catch the artistic (and otherwise) attention of one of its most formidable artists. however, a past you’ve condemned to remain as such has threatened to drag you back out to sea.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: idolverse warnings: angst, some fluff, possible adult content in future chapters words:  10,760 author’s note: remember, side a is fic feels, side b is songs mentioned or song inspiration. this was a long time coming and eventually i’ll put a link out to a full spotify playlist. would love feedback, thoughts, asks, etc. i’m really soft for (1) min yoongi. thank u for coming to my fic and my ted talk.

SIDE A: Dreamer by Axwell /\ Ingrosso | Give Yourself A Try by The 1975 | Do My Thang by Miley Cyrus | Dance To This by Troye Sivan ft. Ariana Grande | DNA by Kendrick Lamar | Star by Bazzi  SIDE B: Anti- by Jvcki Wai | Gossip Folks (ft. Ludacris) by Missy Elliott | Ay (ft. Silly Boot) by Hash Swan | Tear by BTS | Outro: Do You Think It Makes Sense? | Supernova by HTHAZE

It was an honest mistake.

That’s what they said anyway. But it wasn't really that honest. 

After you had submitted all of your materials, you found the detail that probably should have stopped you from submitting. ‘Male. Born 1998 and after.’ Some could claim that you saw it, didn’t care, and submitted anyways. But you submitted under the songwriting category and your singing of the song wasn’t a red flag at all. Could have been your sister, a friend, anyone.

But it was you.

And when you showed up to your second round audition with nothing but a microphone, your looper, and a cascade of messy hair under a beanie--your best one you would say, you weren’t an animal--you were looked at in confusion. Everyone was too shocked to say anything as you quickly got into your song, clearly intrigued with your set up. Laying down a few quick vocal beats and harmonies over one another, you launched into the lyrics. Music was usually the one thing that didn’t provoke a stream of anxiety and apprehension.

It wasn’t hard for you to get taken away by your own music. It was only a verse and a hook but you made it feel like it lasted forever. At least, it had felt like that long to you.

‘Magical mystery nights, fairy lights. You looked at me like I was one of the sights. I always think of your soju-breath that night, And how you said our love was worth the fight.’

It was easy to pour the emotion into the song as you sang, even though you’d rather die than consider yourself a performer. Singing one of your more intimate, personal original songs was always a risk but hopefully it was one that would pay off. The moment made you think of a quote your sister would often recite to you, one by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich.

“Well-behaved women rarely make history.”

You always took that quote to mean in a male dominated industry, playing it safe would never get you noticed. This moment in time could either change your life or set you back a few steps. When you finished, you used your toe to turn down the sound and turn off the looper. You couldn’t hear anything but your own breath among the silence. You were sure they would dismiss you because you were a girl and not a boy. It was a blessing and a curse that your parents gave you a unisex name.

An older man with glasses sat at the table next to a younger woman probably in her late thirties. They looked at you in silence while glancing down at the papers in front of them.

“Y/L/N Y/F/N,” the man says with a chuckle, peering over his glasses at page, presumably with your submitted information on it.

He said something into the woman next to him’s ear and she nodded before taking a few notes in her own notebook. You couldn’t hear what they said but you know what was coming. You held the microphone that connected to your looper tightly in your hand.

You took the risk...but it wasn’t paying off.

“I take it that it was you singing on your first audition tape, then?” he asked. You looked for a sign that didn’t lead to disappointment but you couldn’t read his face. You knew exactly what he was digging for.

“Yes, it was,” you said simply and honestly. You could feel yourself pressing the balls of your feet into the wooden floor below you. Another rejection under your belt, you could feel it coming. You’d auditioned for one or two other small companies, ones that were geared more towards hip hop but they went in other directions. BigHit was the only other company you really wanted to work with. You could feel your eyes prickle at the nervous anticipation buzzing through you right now

“You know the audition notice said we were looking for males, right?” he asked, the woman next to him interlocking her fingers in front of her on the table. Your hand started to sweat around the microphone while your your free hand reached up to untangle a knot at the ends of your long hair.

“I did...after it was too late,” you said, laughing at yourself, trying to smooth over the situation, “I’m obviously not very good at reading directions.” It was true. The moment you pressed send, you then realized they were only looking for males. They were obviously looking for more guys for whatever group they were trying to put together. You’d heard they were holding additional auditions just in case, even though they already had a lineup they were working with. You were in fact not male and you were born in 1996, two years old than what they were looking for. You couldn’t stand the silence from both of them, so you continued against your mind’s better judgment. “I didn’t expect to even hear back,” you said, “So when I did...I thought, why not?”

“Hmmm,” was all the man said. It was the woman’s turn to whisper something to the older man. He sighed and shuffled all his papers together.

“Despite the minor deceit, it’s obviously that you are talented. We’d love to have you meet with some of our producers and if that goes well, possibly the talent we think you’d be a great fit working with,” he said. You didn’t know if you heard had correctly but when the woman smiled at you, your stomached settled slightly and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” you say, bowing to both the man and woman.

“We will email you to set up a meeting with part of our producer team. It was really refreshing to see a talented young woman such as yourself come in,” the woman said, speaking for the first time. You couldn’t help but smile back at her. There was something in the woman’s eye that you could grasp. Pride? A common acknowledgment between women in the music industry?

You hoped it was all the above.

Your meeting with the producing team happened two weeks later. It was at 4pm on a Tuesday and you had loaded up as USB drive, your iPad, your laptop with everything you could think of bringing. You overprepared, putting all of your devices into your bulky, plain backpack. You had the ugly thing since high school and couldn’t bear to part with it. It probably had a few cough drops at the bottom from your last year of high school, maybe a granola bar hidden one of the million of pockets. But that was fine because you had everything you needed. Hopefully you’d be able to provide that to the people you’d be meeting with.

Before leaving your apartment, you looked in the mirror. You wore a royal blue sweatshirt, dark black jeans, some sleek boots with cutouts on the side. With your signature beanie--the one you wore to your audition--you knew that this was as good as you were going to get. You weren’t very girly and sometimes, you felt self-conscious about it. But you felt at your most comfortable and at ease when you were in jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt. You felt cozy and you could feel your anxiety quickly slipping away. But you hated to admit that you didn’t even own a dress. You thought to yourself, though, because wasn’t like you were going to wear one or a suit of any kind to this meeting. You were meeting with music producers, for God’s sake. You still wanted to impress, though. This could be your chance to work with one of the most buzzed about music companies in the country, one that you actually admired.

And you were lucky when they didn’t kick you out at the audition for not reading directions.

You easily arrived at the Big Hit offices. When you checked in, you were given a water bottle and asked to wait. Two minutes past four, you were ushered into a conference room with six people already sitting at a sleek, modern conference table. Everyone at the table got up to shake your hand and you reciprocated, bowing in respect as you did so. After taking a seat, the woman who was in your audition came in, shut the door, and sat at the head of the table. Everyone quickly settled in for the meeting.

“Everyone, this is Y/L/N Y/F/N, the one we found through the open audition,” the woman said, smiling. A bit of excitement shifted through the group. You smiled at the group, gripping the hem of your sweatshirt tightly, needing something to hold on to in order to not just internally combust.

“Oh she’s the one that couldn’t read the audition notice?” one of the producers asks. He looks nice enough, wears glasses, and looks like he hasn’t ever worn a suit in his entire life. You try not to look embarrassed but it’s hard not to when a handful of the other producers laugh.

“Yes, she is.” the woman says, “but it’s hard to ignore talent. I know some of you have seen the tape but we’ll play it again as a quick refresher.” You wait until the lights go out and the video is pulled up to hide your face in your fingers. You hated watching yourself on tape and listening to your singing voice. The tape started up, showing you almost tripping over the cord of your looper mic.  

You heard the lyrics come through the conference room speakers and you wanted to disappear. Seeing other people react to a video of you projected onto a big screen, singing a rather personal song, made your stomach clench and the breath catch in your throat. You’d hoped that someone would whisper or talk to the person next to them while the video was playing to ease the tension in your head and in your heart but everyone remained silent until the lights came back up.

“Wow,” said a voice. You saw a woman, probably the only other female producer at Big Hit. The one who went by ADORA. She definitely had been one of your inspirations to audition. The only female staff producer at Big Hit.

All  the producers were starting to talk amongst one another, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of sweat appearing. You looked from the female executive from your audition to the rest of the group, letting your eyes wander around the room, too embarrassed to keep your vision in one place. Why were you like this? Couldn’t even confidently take a compliment.

“I’m glad that you all could meet with Y/N today. I wanted to get everyone together to get to know her. I also asked her to bring some of her other work. I know we are about to gear up on some big projects and I thought she might be a good addition to the production team,” she continued.

A tall man sitting towards the middle raised his hand to speak, “Why don’t you play some of your work. Maybe the full length version from your audition song and maybe one of your favorites?”

“Sure,” you said, trying not to fumble with the backpack between your legs. You push yourself out to get into the bag. You grabbed your laptop, trying not to make a bunch of noise while doing so but failing, and pulled up the full length file of your audition song. Testing the volume, it’s definitely loud enough for all the producers in the room to hear it. With a quick breath, you press play. While your looper played a part in the recording, there are other instruments--guitar and piano specifically--and all the producers at the table quiet to listen.

It’s the longest two and a half minutes of your life as they listen. Your fingers drum against your thighs as the song soars to it’s climax, your nails digging a bit into them as well, palms sweaty. This song is is raw for you but that’s something you don’t want to let on.

It ends and everyone sounds and looks pleased as you look around.

It was then that you realized there was someone sitting in an armchair on the far side of the room. Arms folded over one another, bucket hat low over their eyes. But your attention is pulled away when someone else at the table speaks up.

The producer eagerly says, “What else do you have?”

You quickly sift through your media player list before stopping on a song titled “It Carries.” Your heart stops for a moment. This song is one of your favorites but it also is a painful reminder. Not just about a past you’d like to forget but a humiliation that your best friend Seoyun would tell you was not your fault. You didn’t realize that you just sat there quietly for a beat too long.

“Y/N?” the lady executive asks.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, shaking it off, “Was stuck between two…Hm, this one is called ‘It Carries.’ I actually wrote it for...an old friend. He’s the one rapping, but I wrote everything.”

Throwing your nerves into the wind, you press play, letting the 808-filled beat fill the conference room. Again the room goes silent, that that makes you nervous. Beginning vocals finish and the rap begins, you notice the person in the back of the room lean forward, elbows on their knees. It doesn’t help that you can’t see their face. They’re probably another one of the producers.

The party that wrenches your heart the most comes up and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You take a deep breath but it’s shakier than you were planning on it to be.

‘But you say “it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine Words aren’t always necessary” My heart squeezes in love and in thanks And I don’t feel as broken as before’

As it finishes, you let out a breath you didn’t realize that you were holding. There is some applause but you aren’t really paying attention. The tall producer raises his hand to quiet everyone again. “That was really amazing. You wrote those raps?” he asked.

“Yes... I wrote them,” you said, which was all you could manage. Your nerves were still bubbling.

“The flow is amazing. The rapping is good but the lyrics…” he trailed off.

“The rapper had an exceptional songwriter to help him out,” said a deep, slightly scratchy voice. It came from the person in the back, the one whose face you couldn’t see in the dimmed light of the conference room. You looked as closely from where you sat and when he raised his head, you tried not outwardly gasp.

Your complimenter was none other than Min Yoongi, Suga of BTS, one of the most well-known and spoken-about young producers in the industry. But...why was he sulking in the back of a preliminary producer meeting? Didn’t he have songs to write, press to do, anything else but sit in on your meeting? Why in the heck was he here? And he listened to some rather personal songs of yours too. Your face had never felt so hot.

“You’re absolutely right,” the female executive said, making no comment as to why the idol was sitting in the back of this meeting.

The tall producer came back around. “You’ve got an interesting point of view and I’d love to see what you can do. I work with BTS but am also overseeing the new boy group who are working towards their debut.”

You perked up a bit, your attention finally at least partly restored after having been trying really hard not to start at the international superstar just sulking in the corner of the room.

“Really?” you asked, a smile forming on your lips, your eyes moving to bulge just slightly out of your head. Was this all really happening?

“Really,” he said, smiling, “You won’t be exclusive to any team but I think you’d be a great use to many of the projects currently in the words at BigHit.” Everyone looked to be in agreement but your eyes couldn’t help but go back to Min Yoongi in the back. His arms still crossed, he didn’t have much of a reaction...despite what he said to you earlier; to be more specific, what he said about you.

The meeting started to die down and everyone was getting out of their chairs and talking. You took a sip out of your water bottle as two of the younger producers--whose names you recognized from the long list of BTS credits--included you into conversation, asking you about your influences. The rest of the time was spent talking to the two of them, as well as the other producers.

They both gave you their numbers as they mentioned they’d also be working on most of the current projects in production and that you’d be spending a lot of time together so getting to know one another would be beneficial. You wholeheartedly agreed and found them easy to talk to, quickly relaxing into the conversation. Getting to know them was like some sort of...weird reality.

You felt as if you might have to pinch yourself any second.

You were talking to one of the younger producers when they beckoned someone over. You looked over your shoulder to see Suga of BTS--Min Yoongi, if you were to be more correct in this situation--holding a soda can between his fingers. You hadn’t seen him talk to anyone until now besides the female executive from earlier.

“Hey, hyung,” one of the guys said to him, “Ready to go back to the studio?”

He turned his gaze from his drink to the producer and you could finally really see his face, even if it was still partly hidden under his hat. The first thing that definitely struck you was his eyes. Dark and intense, not that you didn’t already know that. You’d seen pictures of him, seen his performances at all the music award and variety shows. But cameras and televisions rarely captured the true reality. They were truly stunning.

It was then. It was then that it really hit you that Min Yoongi was standing a mere four feet away from you. He was perhaps one of the biggest inspirations for auditioning for Big Hit in the first place. You never really considered yourself ARMY but you respected the group and their interest in being involved in the creation of their work. Especially the rap line as they also were considered the main contributors. You admired what they and BigHit doing, what they stood for.

And you had a feeling that you were going to get to be part of it.

You tried not to visibly vibrate with excitement right in front of him. Why would you be calm and collected around him? You’d never met any idols or famous actors, singers, etc. in your entire life. It was jarring to realize that he was just hanging out in the back of the conference room while you showed some of your personal work with the producing team. You rarely shared your music with your family, let alone your friends. Seoyun, was the only one who could pry the work out of you...but usually under force or threat.

But she of all people knew what these two songs meant to you. And having a famous idol hear your work before you even knew he was in the room...it scattered your brain just a bit. You still kind of felt like an idiot, though.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi said in a low and tired-sounding timbre.

Part of you was curious as to what they are working on and part of you kind of wanted to ask if you can tag along. But the realist side of you laughed at the idea. You haven’t been in the building more than two hours and you were already itching to know more, do more, see more. But you keep quiet because you knew it was just your excitement. Nothing like this had ever happened in your life and you’re still not even sure if it’s even real. You could wake up at any moment. It’s a dream, right?, you keep asking yourself.

It’s not. It’s the start of the rest of your life.

“Cool,” the other producer said, shoving their hands into their pockets. The water bottled crinkled a little in your hands. “It was really great meeting you, Y/N. Work calls but we’ll see you soon, yeah? I think the plan is to get into get things set up in the next week,” he continued.

“Sounds great,” you replied genuinely. The two producers turned towards Yoongi and the three of them started to leave but before they could make head way out of the conference room, the man in question turned back towards you with a hand raised in a non-moving wave.

“See you around,” he said.

“You too,” you managed to respond, returning the small wave but dropping that hand to wrap around your other wrist in front of you. You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face. Your first two words to Min Yoongi. They could have been worse...or more embarrassing.

Seriously, you needed someone to slap you back to reality.

He turned around and left with the two producers. One was Shin Donghyuk--also known as Surpeme Boi--and the other was Kim Yunseo, a newer addition to the BigHit team, but you had been familiar with some of his independent work before he joined. They were going to be heavily involved in the work for the upcoming projects, both BTS’ comeback and the new boy group debut.

Tossing your finished water bottle in the appropriate bin, the female executive who rooted for you, Lee Hayoon, approached you. She had a stern yet friendly smile as she came towards you, with the producer known as ADORA in tow.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself. I see you you already met Donghyuk-ssi and Yunseo-ssi. That’s great because you’ll be working with them a lot,” she said, “We considered hiring a new slew of producers for the new group but Donghyuk insisted on working both albums. Yunseo is, after you, the newest producer. Glad to have you on the team, Y/N.”

The woman you knew to be known as ADORA smiled. “My name is Moon Eun-hye,” she said, making a small bow, “It’s so nice to have another woman on the team finally. Your work is stunning for how young you are.” You beam just a bit as you really respect her work as ADORA.

“Thank you so much. I really admired your work on the last album,” you said returning the bow, trying not to gush. Eun-hye seemed so low-key and dresses casually, much like how you usually dress. What you were currently wearing was you dressing up to impress. This girl made sweats and a ripped t-shirt look cool.

“Aw, thanks,” she said, “Seriously...I can’t wait to work with you. Us girls definitely have to stick together.” She gave you her number and the three of you talked about what was next. Hayoon said that you’d be looped in with the studio/recording coordinator to get updated on the current schedule. They’d be doing a few team dinners for the various projects that were coming up, coinciding with whatever you got placed on. Whether it was primarily the BTS comeback or the boy group debut. Hayoon assured that you’d have time to learn about the group once and if you started working with them, if that was the decision that would go first.

The get together finally died down and you said your goodbyes, only a few hours later getting various calendar invites. You’d be officially signing your contract the next time you came to BigHit. You were having your brother-in-law--a lawyer--look it over before you signed.

Those technicalities and small things were the last things on your mind. You were making your dreams come true and you were doing it on your own.

You also couldn’t wait to tell the people who loved and supported you the most.

An important event was coming up so the dance, studio, and overall rehearsal schedule was in full swing. Not only did the guys have to share a company with a new group, the company was flocking with new people and faces due to obvious and needed expansion. While they all thought that they knew everyone, there was always someone new popping out from the woodwork.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin shouted over towards Namjoon while sitting on the floor stretching, “Did you hear about the new producer they just hired?” Both Jimin and Jungkook were fanned out on the floor, getting ready for a dance practice. Hoseok was already in front of the mirror, lightly going through the steps as usual.

“I did,” Namjoon said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know anything other than that the producer is a girl.”

Jimin and Jungkook both looked at one another. Eun-hye-noona was the only other female producer so this was an interesting development. You’d be the second female staff producer so of course you were of interest. The way you got hired, too, was definitely something that triggered a lot of attention as well.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asked as he walked over and sat down to join the rest of the youngers.

“The new producer they just hired is a girl,” Jungkook said excitedly. The four of them were talking amongst themselves while Hoseok was still working in front of the mirror, Jin was sitting on a rolling chair playing a game on his phone and Yoongi was getting some water. Shaken from his thoughts, he heard Jimin over his shoulder.

“Yoongi-hyung, do you know anything about the new girl producer?” Jimin asked, Jungkook and Taehyung hanging onto the question.

“She’s good,” he said casually, turning back to his water bottle. Exclamations erupted.

“You heard her work????” Taehyung asked, breaking the commotion.

Yoongi put the bottle down, turned around, and walked over to the four guys. They were all awash with excitement and moved in towards him as well.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked. Jimin followed, leaning his hands and arms over Jungkook’s shoulder in expectation.

“I was at the studio and Hayoon-noona asked me to sit in on a meeting,” Yoongi said, crossing his arms, looking up at towards the brim of the baseball cap on his head.

“So, she’s actually good?” Namjoon asked, looking Yoongi over in question, “I’m surprised they even met with her a second time after all that confusion.”

Yoongi whipped out his phone, deciding to pull up the song he asked Hayoon to send over to him. “She brought a looper in with her for her audition. You can’t really ignore that. It’s creative”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s actually really cool,” he said, watching Yoongi pull up the song. Namjoon called out for Jin and Hobi to come over.

“I asked Hayoon-noona to send me the song she played for us in the meeting,” Yoongi added, moving to press play.

“What is this-” Jin said before Jimin cut him off with a ‘Shhhh’

A hip hop tone with a bit of electronic and tropical flowed through the horrible iPhone speakers, filling the studio. Hobi and Jungkook immediately started moving their head and shoulders while the others listened intently.

It was the “It Carries” song that you had played the group in your meeting.

The vocals and rap line move seamlessly on top of the melody and production. Namjoon’s chin sits in his hands as he moves it along, deep in though. Yoongi doesn’t move or sway but he’s super intent on listening to the song, something he done a number of times since asking Hayoon-noona to send it to him.

“Who’s rapping?” Jimin asks. By this time, he’s moving his fingers to the beat.

“Don’t know,” Yoongi said, “He’s okay, I guess, but what’s more interesting is that she wrote all the rap and lyrics in addition to producing the song.” Namjoon and Hoseok were intrigued. “She’s only a year older than Kookie,” he said as the song came to its end. Everyone was surprised by that. Once again, they all erupted into conversation.

“Take notes, Kookie,” he said, pocketing his phone and looking pointedly at the maknae, “If you want to continue producing music…”

“Don’t come for me, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook said defiantly. The others laughed at the exchange. “Regardless....you seem to know a lot about her,” Jungkook teases. The others join in and it takes Yoongi what’s left of his energy to not say something back.

After practice ended, he ended up spending the majority of the night at the studio after Hoseok and Yunseo left. The three of them were working on a song but Yoongi wanted to to stay behind after they left.

He had been working on some tweaks for a collaboration with a huge western artist but all of a sudden, a thought came to him. A rush of inspiration had led him to his piano and he laid down a melody line. It was one of the first things he was truly proud of and something that wasn’t spurred by necessity. It was something just for him in that moment, something that brought a wide smile to his face as he reached for the soggy iced Americano on his desk.

Maybe it would be something he’d save for the next mixtape. Maybe...just maybe he wouldn’t have to wait that long.

Your family was so proud.

They had been apprehensive of you pursuing music because of the question of stability but in the end, they just wanted you to be happy. You went to university to please them, but majored in music production. They felt more secure in that choice. Sound engineers were always in demand, at least. That’s how they thought anyway. You couldn’t blame them and you did want to make them proud. But there were moments when you were sure that you knew yourself. You knew that you could never do a job that you weren’t passionate about.

You’d always been sensitive and pursuing medicine or an office job...you had a feeling ity would essentially destroy you.

You had lovely friends in university, most of whom you are still close to, but well into your second year, you met and started dating another music production major. Even thinking or saying his name was still painful, though. It had been months since you broke up and you’d begun to heal. Your heart was finally mending and your friends and music were your saving graces. You don’t know where you would be without Seoyun’s pushy behavior or your sister’s quote-laden pep talks over skype or the cave that was your music studio set up in your small studio apartment. The tail end of your relationship had caused a lot of rifts in your heart and life. While you didn’t rearrange your whole life, there were a lot of things you changed after your break up.

After appearing on a famous reality rap show and making it to the end...the funny, charming, aspiring rapper you called your boyfriend and best friend dumped you over text message.

You had relied on your family and friends a lot in the past several months. So seeing you happy about something again made them happy. You really hated being a burden to your friends and family. The idea that they worried so much about you did a number on your anxiety. All you wanted was for your parents and friends to be proud of the artist and person you were. Working for one of the most talked-about music companies in the industry was only something you’d dreamed about. Music had been your life since you were little, ever since you had begged for piano and guitar lessons. Practicing piano for hours a day was a hassle to most of your friends but to you, those lessons were the best part of your week. Guitar quickly became a second love, too.

Before this opportunity, you had seriously considered moving back with your parents, the small cafe job you had up until now barely even helping you make rent. But you knew that you’d soon be getting a paycheck from one of the most profitable companies in music. You deleted that email draft to your landlord, stating that you’d be leaving at the end of your lease.

Things were looking up in more ways than one.

In celebration, your best friend in the world, Park Seoyun, had convinced you to go out the Saturday before your first day officially at BigHit.

She was a social butterfly and had a lot of cool and influential friends. Sometimes you weren’t sure whiy she still kept you around but she did. While she was also the fun friend, she was also the mom friend. Always nagging you and making sure you were taking care of yourself, not just while you were both in university. She actually worked at one of the big companies in a coordinator position and she knew where anyone who was anything would be. Dominoing into tonight, she knew someone who could get the two of you through the VIP entrance to one of the hottest clubs in Seoul.

Clubs were never one of your things but once in a while, letting loose didn’t sound like a horrible idea. However, she’d dressed you up. You weren’t a super fashionable person. You liked a more athletic look in contrast to Seoyun’s sexy, feminine fashion sense. In your signature black, she squeezed you into a short turtleneck bodycon dress and some of her more stable, platformed boots. Heels had always been your enemy and you threw anything that had a stiletto back her way. She had to concede.

As she promised, getting in was a breeze. You were able to slink right in, of course pissing off all the people in the line that wrapped around the block. You couldn’t help but smile a little as the two of you tripped over your own feet into the club.

Your friend insisted on taking a photo before entering the VIP section, where cameras were not allowed. You did your classic peace sign near your face in front of the neon light display. You assesed yourself in a mirror nearby. You looked cute, you guessed. Cute was the most you could muster. Sexy? Don’t even try, you’d tell yourself. Seoyun had a claim on that territory already. But you were fine with being cute. Sexy wasn’t something you actively tried to achieve. After touching up, you two made your way over to the VIP section. Seoyun made flirty small talk with the bouncer and the two of you were in there in seconds.

Yeah, there were definitely celebrities littering the area. Seoyun even walked right up to some actor that you recognized but couldn’t name….and they knew one another. You weren’t surprised as you took the hand the tall, handsome actor offered when greeting you. “Y/L/N, Y/N?”

“Uh, hi. How did you know my name?” you asked., honestly a little incredulous.

“Honestly Y/N, he went to school with us,” she said. Your eyes widened because you didn’t remember him. “It’s fine, you didn’t go out a lot. You may not know him.”

You rolled your eyes at her and apologized to him but you still smile a little because it was true. You had been too busy with your music and...your boyfriend. Maybe if you took your social life a little more seriously while in university, you’d have been friends with the actor too. Seoyun was your first year roommate and despite the two of you being soul twins, you both really were so different. Jisoo had been kind enough to get the three of you drinks so for a moment, he disappeared.

Seoyun stiffened and it caught you off-guard. What was she looking at? “Don’t look over your right shoulder are your new neighbors,” You scrunch your nose in confusion but quickly look, trying to mask it as a scratch.

“I said don’t look!” your friend screamed through her teeth and you quickly whip your head back in her direction in response to her order.

“Calm down,” you said, “Who’s there?” You were surprised any of them were there. They were notoriously absent from the party scene. At least, that’s what Seoyun said. Then again, so were you. At least you had that in common.

“Them. I think all of them,” she said but not sounding so sure, just as the actor--Lee Jisoo, whose name you just remembered--came back with three drinks. You definitely did see that drama with him in it. You had definitely watched the whole thing, too. He smiled at both of you as you clink your glasses together.

“Who’s here?” Jisoo asks after taking a sip. You suddenly feel awkward but Seoyun is quick to gab.

“BTS,” she said. Jisoo looked over and nodded with a thoughtful pout.

“I rarely see them out. Surprised, staff is loosening the reins,” he said. However, it didn’t look like they were being bothered by anyone. It was probably nice for them, you thought, that the could go out and blow off some steam without being harassed once in while.

“It just so happens that Y/N here is getting signed to BigHit,” she says after taking a large gulp of her drink. You gave her a look. Your contract wasn’t even signed yet and you didn’t want anything risking it but you let it go because on the other hand, your socially connected best friend was proud as hell of you.

“I’ll be working on various projects as a producer,” you say, keeping it that, just in case. You didn’t want anything to harm the signing of your contract. But you were proud. You were very excited. Jisoo congratulated you, said that he knew a few of the boys, and then laughed at something else Seoyun said. Sometimes you were jealous of her since she had such an easy way with people. You were the opposite most of the time. You were really shy until you eased yourself into the situation and got more comfortable. You had never been the type to just go up to people you didn’t know but you adapted quickly once you slotted in and often fed off the energy of others.  

Continuing to talk, the three of you had managed to shift your standing positions so that the group was now at the edge of your peripheral. You didn’t want to go over and disturb them. Besides, you had only ever been introduced to Yoongi and that was only for a millisecond. You couldn’t even see Yoongi at the moment but what if he was there and he saw you and you saw him and he thought it was rude that you didn’t come over? You were used to overthinking things so you were hoping that even the smallest of sips would help ease the anxiety settling into the pit of your stomach like squishy rocks.

Why were you like this? Ugh.

You continued to flit in and out of the conversation with Seoyun and Jisoo and the feeling of them within your peripheral. Something unexpected happened instead. Two of members approached the three of you. Mid-sip you tried not to choke on the large gulp you just took.

“It’s Y/L/N, Y/N, right?” says the shorter of the two who approached. You were almost 100% certain that was Kim Taehyung. A large, wide smile and impeccable style. The taller, you knew, was Kim Namjoon, the leader of the group. You knew that for sure. But wait a minute, how---? How did they knew you were you? You looked around for a moment but still didn’t see Yoongi.

“Yes,” you said, your glass still held tightly between your fingers, “Hi.” You were glad that you managed at least those two words. He smiled at you and there was something about him that eased whatever nerves you had before. It was true. He didn’t look human in real life. You smile and make yourself take a deep breath. You’d likely be working with the group soon on their upcoming album. In a way, they were kind of your co-workers? Being nervous around them wasn’t going to make anything easier.

“It’s nice to actually meet you. We’ve heard a bit about you,” Namjoon chimes in, shaking your hand, followed by Tae. The two of them also introduce themselves to Seoyun and Jisoo, though Taehyung knew Jisoo as an acquaintance through mutual friends. The five of you fell into conversation and it wasn’t long before Jimin came and joined, introducing himself to you and your group.

“We loved your song, by the way,” Jimin said enthusiastically, “That hook…” Your eyes widened a little as you subconsciously pulled your lips in between your teeth, a small smile tearing at the corners. Some of the most celebrated artists in the industry loved your work. Sometimes, this kind of validation could be enough to drag you out of your shy comfort zone.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you said, “Which song?” You were doing all you could to not visibly shake. Park Jimin had the voice of an angel and if you were lucky enough to keep impressing BigHit, he might end up singing your work.

“I think it was “It Carries”?” Jimin said, calling over your shoulder, “Yoongi-hyung, Y/N’s song you played for us...it was “It Carries,” right?” You turned over your shoulder a little too quickly, hitting Jisoo in the face with your hair. You muttered a quick sorry to him. They’d passed around your song. God, your face couldn’t be any warmer, right?

“Yeah,” he said, expressionless, holding three drinks, “that’s the one.” You forced yourself to breathe again. That song had been hard enough to show to the group as it was personal. The fact that the whole group had heard it caused your heart to palpitate. You knew that Hayoon had a copy of it but the idea that someone you didn’t know might have it on their computer or on their phone or in their texts...it was still a little unnerving. A compliment, likely, but still unnerving.

Yoongi moved to hand the three of his group members drinks, which they accepted. “Nice to see you again,” he said to you, shaking his bangs out of his face. There were his eyes again. Soft despite his monotone. He sounded sincere but not overzealous or as if he was saying it to be polite. He was dressed nicely in a simple black blazer, black t-shirt and black jeans. Simple. Unlike what they usually wore for press, concerts, etc.

“You too,” you say in response, feeling yourself ease a little, taking another sip. He seemed perfectly relaxed, as if playing your song for everyone was just the most casual thing he could do...while across from him, your stomach was in knots. However, part of you felt at ease because he took it so casually, as if this whole thing wasn’t changing your life. As if all of this was natural. It was a paradox you couldn’t quite keep away from.

Seoyun who was having a good time, raised her glass. “Just want to make a quick toast to Y/N’s first day on Monday. I have a very hard-working, tireless, and multi-talented best friend,” she said, smiling and leaning into Jisoo just a bit. Your best friend was sweet but a bit of a lightweight, “Cheers to Y/N!!!” Everyone in the circle smiled and joined in.

The rest of the night flew by in a fun frenzy and the three of you ended up joining the group at their booth. You met Hoseok, Jin, and Jungkook shortly after, the three of them working their way through the fancy handle of Grey Goose vodka among their assorted bottle service. Hoseok was definitely the most tipsy and when a song he loved came on, he even pulled Seoyun and yourself in to dance. He was twirling you both around playfully and jokingly, but still managing to dance with more grace than anyone you personally knew.

When Hoseok released the two of you for a break, you found yourself deep in conversation with Namjoon and Yoongi while Seoyun managed to find herself flirting with both Jin and Jisoo. Namjoon and Yoongi both seemed interested in your music taste. They asked you about your musical influences and you found it really nice that they were just as nerdy about music as you were. For a moment, you could have gone to high school with them, as if they might have been in orchestra with you or jazz band.

“Epik High, Missy Elliott, Lady Sovereign, Beyoncé, CL....hands down of all time,” you said and as you took another sip of your drink, it finally made that awful slurping noise. You’d hit ice. Both Yoongi and Namjoon enthusiastically said that Epik High was one of their biggest inspirations to be rappers.

“Do you rap?” Namjoon asked and you couldn’t help be shake your head no. Performing was not in your wheelhouse. God, your audition was nerve wracking enough. Performing in front of hundreds of people? No thank you.

“No, not at all,” you said, “But I like to write them.”

“Like your song,” Yoongi said,, “That was a beautiful rap. You definitely could, if you wanted to.” You softened at the words coming out of his mouth and then some more when Namjoon agreed.

“Yu obviously have amazing musicality. Just like this one here,” Namjoon said, motioning at Yoongi. Yoongi just raised his shoulders the tiniest bit in response. An acknowledgment rather than an agreement.

Namjoon then asked you what you were currently listening to but you were interrupted for a second as Yoongi took the drink from you, leaning down towards the large low table, presumably to top you off.

You quickly snapped back to what Namjoon was saying. “Oh, lately I’ve been listening to WOODZ, Jvcki Wai, and I love Robyn’s newest album,” you say.

“I like Jvcki’s lyrics. Very aggressive flow, too,” Namjoon says enthusiastically and you nod in agreement.

“She doesn’t take prisoners. I think what she is doing is really cool,” you add, “Especially as a woman in hip hop.” You think of her song ‘Anti-’ All your friends really liked music but you were so excited to be working at a company where everyone had the same passion.

“People think she uses a lot of autotune but that’s actually usually just her voice,” you say with a laugh. Both Namjoon and Yoongi smile at your comment, the second handing you a newly made drink.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the tumbler from his hands. A small smile appeared on Yoongi’s lips as he finished making himself another drink. “Lady Sovereign, though?” he asked and you know he’s making fun of you.

“What can I say? My ten year old self was obsessed,” you say, smiling and thinking about the time you dressed up as her for a costume party in elementary school. The few small braids, the side ponytail, and tracksuit were still a look. Taking another gulp of your drink, you were trying to remember which number you were on. You could feel the alcohol in your cheeks at this point. You were tall for a girl and usually you weren’t much of a lightweight. You could handle your liquor but you’d always feel it in your face two drinks in. The feeling was comfortable but the thought of looking drunker than you were was not.

“I was curious, though,” Namjoon said all of a sudden, “Who was the rapper on your track?” You froze for a second for responding just a little too quickly. “An old friend,” you said, perhaps a little colder than you meant. You were trying to convince yourself that your reaction was due to the alcohol, but your face gave away everything.

“Oh, he sounds kind of familiar. That’s the only reason I ask,” Namjoon said and if he caught on to your demeanor change, he didn’t let on. It wouldn’t be surprising if Namjoon had heard of your boyfriend. He did win a huge rap reality show.

As you took another sip, Seoyun came over, dragging Jisoo and Jin with her. Jin was very drunk and leaning onto Seoyun, earning him an annoyed look from Jisoo. “So, I think the plan is for us to ditch and go get yangnyeom tongdak in say...five minutes?” he said, looking at his watch, a fancy digital contraption that flashed 1:00 AM. Wow, you didn’t realize how much time flew by.

Yoongi was the first to reply, as if relieved. “Sounds great to me,” he said, taking the happiest sip of alcohol you thought you’d ever seen. He then drained the whole thing, practically slamming it onto the table, and wiped his mouth with the side of thumb. “Ready!!” He exclaimed, smile on his face. You looked at him in the eye and there was a silent agreement when both of your eyes met.

Food > Clubbing.

Jin, despite how drunk he was, managed to coral all seven boys plus the three of you into the van waiting for you at the back of the club. Everyone toppled in with Seoyun strung out across Jisoo, Jin, and Jungkook in the back. Yoongi shuffled in, helping you up, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin pulling in the rear. The four of them squeezed together and grabbed you to lay out similarly to Seoyun. Taehyung and Hoseok held onto your torso while your head ended up awkwardly pressed against Yoongi’s armpit. You laughed as they hoisted you up, making sure you were comfortable.

The buzz was hanging high in your head and you could hear Seoyun, Hoseok, and Jungkook singing to “thank u, next” as it started on the van speakers. You didn’t sing but every time “next” was said, you punched the air above you with your palms. Minutes and several songs later, the van stopped and both Seoyun and you were hoisted out of the car. Yoongi and Hoseok gave you a hand out, and then lead you through the dark back entrance of the chicken place. All of you stumbled into a large room in the back, not completely closed off from the main restaurant but private enough where no one would know they were back there unless they went looking.

Sliding along the modern wooden bench in your dress proved difficult, Seoyun and Jisoo fumbling in next to you while Yoongi slid his legs through the opening between the table and bench, managing it without making too much of a ruckus. Jin and Yoongi ended up across from one another, both excitedly together. They ordered what seems like a feast for 25 people--not the ten actually there--and as they went through a list that included sweet and spicy chicken, honey garlic chicken, bulgogi flavored chicken, french fries, pickled raddish, and tteokbokki, you finally hear your stomach growling. It didn’t evade Yoongi and Jin’s ears. “Wow that was loud,” you say, trying to laugh it off, a little too drunk to be completely embarrassed. Jin immediately said to their waitress to make it fast as “the lady is hungry.”

Beer and soju arrive and despite the fact you don’t think you can fit any more alcohol in your body. Jin and Jimin challenge everyone to shots of soju and you managed to find more space in your stomach. Not the heaviest of drinkers, you quickly get more comfortable in your surroundings and you finally get the up the courage to pry. You turn to Yoongi and straight up ask him, “What were you working on with Donghyuk-sunbae and Yunseo-sunbae?” Yoongi finished his shot of soju, putting the glass back down on the table with a loud click, then crossed his arms on the ledge of the table.

“Group number for the new album,” he answered, his voice low and a bit slurred, “Trying to decide if we should do something nostalgic or something different. The concept is a lot...dirtier this time? I guess that’s the best way to describe it?” You mimic his arm position without realizing it, leaning onto the edge of the table in front of you. “Why not both?”

Your question makes him laugh. “How would we do that?” he asked, split between confused and curious. You could feel the gears in your brain start to turn. Figuring out the feel of songs you wanted to work on was one of the best parts in your opinion; thinking about what you wanted to convey was a rush. You had an idea of what you were trying to say but fuck it if he laughed it.

“Just think about it, okay,” you say, weirdly proud of yourself, “Do You Think It Makes Sense? meets ‘Tear.’ Maybe really bring out that R&B feel. Hmmmm...there is this really good sample from ‘Gossip Fools’ by Missy Elliott featuring Ludacris, actually.”

“You really dug into the library on that first song,” he said with a smirk. You can’t help but smile. It was true and you had done some refreshing on the BTS library in the last few weeks. Of course, you’d always been familiar with them but the song was a few years old. He looked at you for a moment, contemplating something. It wasn’t a lie that he made you nervous, but the alcohol was helping….for the both of you apparently. “Play the sample,” he said, looking pointedly at your phone.

“What?” you ask, as in...really, dude? But you’re reaching for you phone. You pull up your library and he takes his phone from you and clips the song, which is now playing on full volume. A few of the guys stop talking and look over. Immediately Hoseok starts moving to it and shouts, “MIIIIIIISSSY!!!”

“But slowed down a bit, I think?” you added, and you look at Yoongi’s face and a few gears of his appear to be turning. He turns down the speed to 0.75 instead of normal. Soon enough, they all seem interested in what’s going on. “Definitely more dirty if you slow it down,” you say, without really thinking what you’re saying and a little louder than you mean to.

The guys burst into laughter and it takes everything in you to not just sink into a puddle beneath the table. You’re could feel all  the blood rush to your face. “Just an idea,” you say smally, putting your arms back in your lap. Hoseok starts rapping along to it and after a moment, you can’t help but lightly join. You loved Missy.

Everyone eventually went back to their conversations while Yoongi and you ended up pouring over your music library, smirking at a few embarrassing entries. He even convinced you to play some some random things you’d been working on, including a few piano ramblings. You also mentioned that you also had played guitar since childhood. Piano was your favorite though, you admitted, and he smiled warmly at that and agreed. It was a little off-putting, his smile. It didn’t fit his preapproved aura but it looked so nice among his features. After ribbing you for having “The Shape of My Heart” by the Backstreet Boys on your Spotify’s “Most Recent,” you two eventually looked up to see that food had arrived and everyone was eating. The both of you were quick to pile your plates with chicken and tteokbokki.

You’d never met anyone as passionate about music as you and even though you were sure it was the liquid courage talking, you felt comfortable talking to the rapper. Despite what public decreed his personality to be, it didn’t feel like that when the two of you gushed over the use of vintage 808s. With a mouth full of sweet and spicy chicken, no less. Maybe it was because you could relate and not just on a musical level. You weren’t as outgoing as Seoyun, who was currently threatening to throw a rice cake at Jin, her personality counterpart. You felt at home in your own head and maybe that made you shy in regards to others’ standards. But...sometimes it was moments like these that you felt free enough to talk to someone you admired without getting nervous, without letting your nerves completely immobilize your ability to communicate.

Fuck, you ate too quickly. Part of you just wanted to lay down on your own plate, but there you were...taking another bite of rice cake, trying as you might to fit two whole ones in your mouth. After a moment, Yoongi’s low voice and shoulder jolted you out of your food and beer trance. “Yeah?” you said, mouth full of rice cake.

“Would you want to work on something?” he asked, straight-faced.

A chunk of rice cake might just have fallen out of your mouth at his question. You tried not to look too mortified when he couldn’t contain his laughter. God, you were hopeless. “Um, work on something?” you asked, sure that you couldn’t have heard right.

“With me, yeah. No thoughts on what but...even for fun? Just in general?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free, ringed hand, both of which were turning red due to alcohol. Not that you were clued in enough to notice. Your eyes weren’t even focusing anywhere because you might still have been in shock. But you felt the heat in your face and a fluttering in your heart. There was part of you that couldn’t help but stare. This was was more conversation than you would have expected between the two of you.

“Y-Yeah,” you say, scrambling with a napkin to pick up the rice cake that had hit the table in a bright red splat. You wrapped it up and set it to the side. Did you really hear correctly? Did you just say yes, too? Everything was a little buzzy and raw in your head right at that moment. This whole experience...getting hired by BigHit had sent everything into hyperdrive.

Were your dreams really coming true?

“I would love that,” you couldn’t help by say. You went for another rice cake, careful to keep it from dropping from your chopsticks. Stuffing it into your mouth without caring what you looked like, you sighed. Late night drunk eating was the best. “Almost as much as this rice cake,” you add, grabbing another with and sliding the bowl closer to Yoongi, so he didn’t have to reach over.

“I’ll be honest. I’m honored,” he said, smiling, “This place has the best tteokbokki.” He dug in for some as well and the two continued to chat mostly about what you two were listening to at the moment, even joining in with the group on other topics that were a-buzz at the moment. Jungkook even hopped up to take a group photo of everyone and then a long selfie shot of the group. You leaned over the table to get past Seoyun, Yoongi leaning even farther but his face still ended up getting partially cut off by your head.

It was getting really late and while Yoongi told you the guys didn’t have a schedule tomorrow, they all had things that they probably should get done. They insisted on dropping Seoyun, Jisoo, and yourself off at your place before getting on their way. From there, you left Seoyun and Jisoo at the door to go their separate ways as you made your way up to your studio apartment. Your heart was beating really quickly but you weren’t sure if it was from the several flights of stairs you ascended or the adrenaline that was currently keeping you awake.

Everything felt fumbly as you made your way around your apartment to get ready for bed. You could have just passed out cold in your going-out clothes, crossbody still strapped to your body. However, you managed to peel everything off and throw it on the floor before you threw on the PJ’s you laid out on your bed in preparation. Quickly, you could feel a headache trying to form so you grabbed a large bottle of water from your fridge and placed it on your nightstand. You knew that if you chugged a bunch you’d be fine in the morning.  After getting part of your nighttime routine in, you practically swan dived under the covers, and cocooned yourself in the large down comforter.

Maybe all of tonight was a dream and you had just been in your bed for the last several hours. You didn’t fall asleep for at least an hour because you couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, trying to put all your thoughts together. You were getting to do what you loved for a living. A trailblazing company took a chance on you after you failed to read instructions on a songwriting submission. But...you would wake up the next day to the text Yoongi sent to you so that you would have his number.

Yeah, that wasn’t a dream at all.

YOU [11:21 AM]: how’s the hangover? SEOYUN [11:30 AM] not great ugh YOU [11:31 AM]: sorry, babe !! drink some ginger ale and have an ibuprofen and go back to sleep. SEOYUN [11:33 AM]: yes, mom. YOU [11:34 AM]: jisoo and you were getting pretty close last night? is it a thing or is it going to be a thing, etc? :eyes emoji: SEOYUN [11:34 AM]: not a thing yeT! i do really like him. doesn’t hurt that he’s fine as hell! YOU [11:34 AM] what about seokjin? i saw jisoo giving him a dirty look…. SEOYUN [11:35 AM]: let’s just blame my drunk self for being too friendly, ok? YOU [11:36 AM]: ah, i cannot imagine a life where boys fight over me. what’s it like in seoyun world? SEOYUN [11:37]: very funny, y/n. not fighting over me, seokjin’s just very friendly and he was very intoxicated. as i just said, so was i! YOU [11:38 AM]: both would be very lucky to have your attention. <3 SEOYUN [11:40 AM] :sobbing emoji: i have the sweetest bff. don’t make me cry, i’m already nauseous. YOU [11:41 AM]: :angel emoji:   SEOYUN [11:43 AM] but the real question is...what did you and yoongi talk about so much, huddled at the end of the table? hmmm? YOU [11:43 AM]: ah, music! just nerdy producer stuff, really…. SEOYUN [11:44 AM]: hmmmmm, interesting…. YOU [11:45 AM]: why is that interesting? SEOYUN [11:45 AM]: no reason, you two just looked cozy. YOU [11:47 AM]: COME ON!! don’t stir the pot seoyunnn SEOYUN [11:47 AM]: if there is an typhoon brewing, no need for me to stir >:) YOU [11:48 AM]: i hate you. this is my first big girl job. Even if there was anything--WHICH THERE ISN’T--risking the opportunity would be the last thing I would do. SEOYUN [11:49 AM]: lying isn’t a good look for you. YOU [11:50 AM]: seriously, though, seoyun! we just nerded out. we were discussing a song he’s currently working on and i played him that missy elliott sample. that song she did with ludacris. SEOYUN [11:51 AM]: let’s just pretend i know what you are talking about. YOU [11:52 AM]: it was fun but we were both really drunk. he asked me if i wanted to work on something with him but i’m just chalking it up to ‘commitments made drunk,’ a common theme among drunk people. SEOYUN [11:55 AM] well, good luck and hopefully he remembers. regardless, i have a very talented best friend and he’d be lucky to work on something with you. :) YOU [11:56 AM]: :blush emoji: sleep tight and let me know if you need me to bring you soup. SEOYUN [11:56 AM]: aweeee. ;;;;;; love you xx

[bevioletskies]

all the stars (are closer) [1/5]

summary: Scott is a washed-up comedy actor and an ex-convict, unable to find enough work to pay child support. Hope is a famous action star and the daughter of one of Hollywood’s most beloved couples, still struggling with the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death. When Hope’s estranged father casts them in his directorial debut, a romantic drama with a script that’s more truth than fiction, they find themselves tangled in a mysterious conspiracy that just might explain what really happened to Janet Van Dyne all those years ago.

a/n: Fic title is from the song All The Stars by Kendrick Lamar (with SZA).

word count: 4.4k | ao3 | tag

To the surprise of practically no one who’d known him in his childhood and his awkward adolescence, Scott went into comedic acting soon after graduating university (with a master’s in engineering, no less), having spent many of his late nights doing stand-up instead of studying for exams. To the surprise of nearly everyone, however, he then went on to become moderately famous.

“He was always better at making me laugh than making me cry. Well, until the end,” his ex-wife Maggie had said with a bittersweet smile on a morning talk show once. She was an actress as well, often erroneously underappreciated in supporting roles, and was now engaged to a man who was known for guest-starring on every cop procedural that was still airing long beyond its expiry date.

Maggie hadn’t been talking about their divorce, exactly, but rather, the cause of it - Scott had spent three years in jail for trying to expose a crime ring inside the film industry that no one wanted to admit existed, three years of their daughter’s life he could never get back. His career had also come to a complete standstill ever since, and though he’d made half-hearted attempts at a comeback, he never seemed to be able to make it to where he had been.

“You gotta do something different here, Lang,” his agent had said to him after the third movie premiere in a row in which he’d spent most of it mulling over how much of his paycheck had gone to child support. “Look, there’s a director who’s been chasing me down, wants you to read for a part. It’s not your usual, though - romantic drama, Oscar bait, whatever you wanna call it. He’s already got his lead actress. You know Hope Van Dyne?”

Scott promptly jolted out of his apathy-induced haze. “What?”

Hope was the result of a rare Hollywood happy ending, the daughter of two silver screen icons who had been staples of drama films in their prime and had gotten married after working together and discovering a mutual secret love of science. They later started a scientific research foundation together as an anniversary gift for the world, focusing on funding biological innovation and children’s education programs. It was declared the Hope for Science Foundation during the opening ceremony, where the two of them posed for pictures and talked to reporters while cradling their newborn daughter in their arms.

It hadn’t all been picture-perfect though, as her mother had died in a plane crash when she was seven. Her father’s last role had him playing a surly but well-intentioned detective, with one particular scene that critics loved where a six-year-old Hope had appeared as his character’s daughter. No one had heard from him ever since. When Hope started appearing in action movies in her twenties with a dozen martial arts credentials and her mother’s last name instead of her father’s, rumors followed her everywhere she went. In short, she was the last person whose name Scott had expected to hear.

“Be careful when you meet her, alright? Everyone says she’s...intense.” His agent made a face. Scott was too stunned to make any sort of face in return.

For one reason or another, Scott found himself standing outside the director’s house a week later, debating whether to ring the doorbell, knock on the door, or turn right around and never come back. The decision was made for him when someone walked up beside him, rapped their knuckles sharply on the door, then stepped back and promptly directed their attention to their phone. He turned to stare incredulously at Hope herself, dressed in a smart pantsuit far nicer than his button-up shirt and jeans, making no attempt to acknowledge his presence.

“Hello,” he said rather stupidly. She didn’t respond. “I’m, uh, I’m Scott. It’s nice to...nice to meet you.” More silence. “Y’know, my agent didn’t even tell me anything about the director or the movie, so I don’t...really know what I’m doing here?”

“Is that a question?” she said shortly. Her voice was softer than he remembered from the handful of movies he’d seen her in, but there was a bite in her tone that made him wince.

“No, I really don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admitted, chuckling awkwardly. She seemed unamused. “But you gotta know something, right? And that was a question,” he added at her pointed eyebrow raise.

She suddenly shoved her phone in her pocket and pushed past him to open the door, which had apparently been unlocked the whole time, barely waiting for him to follow. “Hank is waiting for us in the sitting room.”

“Wait,” Scott called after her, hastily shutting the door behind him once he’d stepped inside. “Who?”

The first thing he noticed was how eccentric the house was, looking every bit as old-fashioned as its exterior had been, with Victorian-style furniture, elaborate wallpaper and wainscotting, and dimly-lit lamps in every corner that made it feel more like an atmospheric showroom than an actual home. It took him another few seconds to notice that Hope clearly knew her way around, striding down the hall and through a series of doorways until they finally came to a stop in a room occupied by another man.

Scott did a double-take at the sight of the man - he was notably older than any director Scott had ever worked with, well-dressed in a wool sweater vest, slacks, and a tie, peering at them through his translucent-rimmed glasses with a piercing gaze. What was most notable, however, was the fact that he was definitely Hope’s estranged father.

“Hank,” Hope said neatly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Hope. Would it kill you to call me ‘Dad’?” Hank let out a world-weary sigh, sinking into the plush armchair behind him and gesturing for them both to sit on the fainting couch opposite. Hope immediately sat down; Scott was still looking at him dumbfoundedly. “Mr. Lang, I see you’ve already met my daughter.”

“Yeah, uh, she’s great,” Scott said, turning to look at her. She was already back on her phone. He turned back and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Pym, huge fan of your work - ”

“It’s ‘Doctor’ now, Scott. Spent my early retirement putting my mind to good use.” Instead of accepting Scott’s proffered hand, he gestured toward the bookcases behind him, practically bursting at the seams with volumes on things like quantum physics, time displacement, and other topics far beyond Scott’s master’s degree. “Sit down.”

Scott finally took a seat, sheepishly tucking his rejected hand away. “Sorry - Dr. Pym, I didn’t realize you were directing now.”

Hope scoffed. “You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Tell me - ” Scott glanced between them, but neither seemed interested in making eye contact with each other. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

“To make a long story short, I need more than just a good performance out of you.” Hank leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at Scott so intently he could feel his ears burning. “What can you tell us about the Ghost conspiracy?”

Scott groaned, leaning back to rub his eyes; he could feel a headache coming on already. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. No disrespect to you, Dr. Pym, but I left all that behind me the second I got out of jail. Besides, they had me sign a bunch of agreements not to talk about it, it was all very legal. Even if I wanted to talk about my theories, I can’t.”

“But it’s not just a theory, is it? It’s real, all of it,” Hank insisted. “People were disappearing and - ”

“Almost thirty years later and you still can’t let this go.” Hope finally put her phone away so she could narrow her eyes at her father. “We have more important things to be focusing on, Hank. Dragging in a has-been who might know something about this stupid cult theory just to feed your obsession over Mom’s death is a new low, even by your standards.”

“Don’t you talk about your mother like that,” Hank growled, suddenly rounding on her. “Show some respect.”

“Fine. Then we can go back to not talking at all,” she replied. She got to her feet and promptly turned to walk right out of the house, her heels clicking sharply against the glossy wood floors. Hank sighed, sinking further into his chair, making no move to go after her.

Scott, who was trapped in an unpleasant combination of feeling utterly confused, awkward, and shocked all at once, slowly stood as well. “There’s no movie, is there?”

“There is,” Hank said resignedly. “And I need both of you, more than you could ever know.” ______

Scott barely slept at all that night, staring up at the ceiling with everything he knew and everything he thought he knew rolling around in his brain. He had only stayed at Hank’s house for another few minutes, hoping to get a clearer picture of what exactly he was expecting from him, but Hank had only said that he would get in touch when they were ready. Scott wasn’t sure if “they” really included Hope, given that her car was long gone by the time he walked out of the house. She seemed about as interested in entertaining Hank’s schemes as she was in...well, just about anything else.

Still, Scott found himself on a sunny San Francisco backlot three weeks later, sitting in a hair and makeup trailer with the air conditioning blasting comfortably through his unwashed hair. He had signed a contract after it had been extensively combed through by his lawyer, and a script had finally been mailed to him last night, though he knew its importance was secondary to Hank’s true intentions.

If Hank and Hope were even just a little bit less intimidating, Scott would have turned down both the movie and the mystery, but he had to admit - if nothing else, he was intrigued. Neither of them seemed to be able to talk about Janet beyond using her as a weapon against one another, and he couldn’t blame them. He remembered how he could barely bring himself to talk about Cassie during the first few months of his incarceration, how he couldn’t bear the thought of how much he’d disappointed her. He had wondered if she would want to see him after he got out, if she would want to remember him at all.

The sharp bang of the trailer door being flung open startled Scott right out of his thoughts (and his chair). He glanced in the mirror to watch Hope walk in and sit down in the seat beside him. The assistants immediately began to panic, scrambling to dig through their kits and find what they needed for her. Hope remained as disinterested as ever, silently sipping on her coffee and scrolling through her text messages.

“Morning,” Scott chirped. She side-eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t done a table read or pre-production or...y’know, anything?”

“Hank invests his time and money into what he wants, not what’s actually needed,” she replied, her tone dry. “If you were expecting this shoot to be like anything you’ve ever done before, you clearly don't understand what’s really going on here.”

“I don’t, because neither of you are telling me anything,” he pointed out. “And I’m not an expert on this stuff. There are probably a dozen people out there more qualified to help him than me, why can’t he just ask around?”

Hope glanced briefly at the makeup assistants still rooting around the bottoms of their bags for products, then leaned in close, her mouth nearly brushing against Scott’s ear. He shivered. “Hank hasn’t been focusing on the real problem that I went to him for. There’s a man determined to blacklist him permanently from every connection and every social circle he’s ever had, ruin his reputation, and deplete my family of the fortune that my parents built. He only knows this because I told him, which is why he has to be discreet. He also thinks solving the conspiracy will somehow stop this from happening. I think he’s really lost it this time.”

“So who is this guy?” Scott asked quietly. “Why does he have it out for Hank?”

“Darren Cross was a would-be protégé of his. Child actor he met during the filming of his very last movie...the one that I was in, too.” Hope leaned back in her chair to look at her own reflection in the mirror, eyes glazing over as she became lost in thought. “When...when Mom died, Hank left everything behind, including his promise to Darren that he’d take him under his wing. He couldn’t handle being abandoned.”

“What happened to him after that?” Scott pressed.

She let out a quiet, harsh laugh. “Among other things, he became the CEO of my parents’ foundation. It was poetic to the public, but what it really was? It turned out that a mutual spite for Hank was a negotiation point for starting a business relationship between us, and so I made it happen. I was the one who put Darren in that position.” Her head bowed. “I made us vulnerable.”

Scott blinked. “I’m so confused.”

Hope sighed, rolling her eyes so hard he suspected she would have pulled something had she not likely done it thousands of times before. “Try to keep up, I’m not here to babysit you. I’m here to help Hank.”

“Really? Because it kinda sounds like it’s the last thing you wanna do.”

“He abandoned me right after Mom died. Since then, he’s only come back into my life a few times, and usually not by choice.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want to believe the things he believes, but...part of me wants to entertain the idea that somewhere, somehow...she’s still alive.” ______

The end of the fourteen-hour shoot left Hope half-collapsed in the driver’s seat of her car, completely and utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. She knew Scott was familiar with her work, but she knew nothing of his - comedy had never been a draw to her, not when her life had been so deprived of it. Her expectations for him had been low, and she’d made that obvious from the beginning, but what actually happened in front of the cameras left her silently impressed. Still, it didn’t make his presence any easier to accept.

She had been eighteen when she’d agreed to meet with Hank in person for the first time since her mother’s death, with every other encounter being expertly maneuvered by lawyers or assistants or any other number of sneak tactics he’d used to attempt reconciliation, to no avail. He’d told her about the Ghost conspiracy, showed her all the news clippings and redacted documents and photographs he’d collected, telling her it was likely Janet had gotten too close to the truth and had been taken from them as a result. Hope then spent the rest of her life holding steadfast to the plane crash that everyone believed to be true, mostly out of spite. However, six months ago, she ended up calling him with a new proposal, because now, they were racing against the clock.

“Darren wants to cut off all program funding and shut down the Foundation, start it from scratch with his name on the side of the building,” she had said to him over the phone. “He wants to discredit you, blame you for Mom’s death, and...he’s been siphoning money elsewhere. Offshore bank accounts, shell companies, things I can’t trace myself, but I know it’s happening. We have to stop him before this turns into something bigger than just us.”

Hank had paused; even after all their years apart, she could still picture him narrowing his eyes in contemplation. “What is he up to?”

“I wish I knew.” Hope had pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers in agitation. “I’ve caught glimpses of his phone and his work desktop - emails, invoices, redacted documents - but I don’t know where to begin. I...I need your help, Hank.”

Another pause. Then, “I think I found a guy.”

She had blinked. “...who?”

A sharp knock-knock-knock on the passenger door window promptly pulled Hope out of her reverie. She flinched further when she realized who it was. “Oh, god.”

Scott shot her a bright smile, though even he was starting to look exhausted as well. “Hank wants to do a nightcap at his house, said he wanted to go over the details.”

“Of course he does,” she said bitingly. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.”

“I, uh, I don’t suppose I could get a ride with you, could I?” he asked, his grin turning into something more sheepish. “I’m still not clear to get a driver’s license yet, I’ve been taking ride services ever since - ”

“ - ever since you got out of jail,” Hope interrupted. Her eyes were narrowing more and more by the second. “Just get in before I change my mind.”

The drive to Hank’s was uncomfortably silent for the first few minutes, though she could tell he was itching to talk, his fingers drumming an irregular pattern against the windowsill. “So that was, uh...that was something.”

“What was?” she said shortly.

“O-kay, never mind,” he mumbled to himself. For the first time since she’d met him, he almost seemed embarrassed.

She cleared her throat, feeling a mild sense of pity for him that she was sure would pass. “It was definitely...different. But we both know the movie isn’t what matters here.”

“Right, but we still have to do the whole - ” he waved his hand aimlessly “ - the shoot, post-prod, press, y’know, the usual. Unless Hank decides to shelve the project if we get this done first.”

Hope suddenly slammed on the brakes without warning, causing Scott to jolt forward. All the air was knocked out of his lungs from the tug of his seatbelt, causing him to wheeze; she ignored him. “Why are you even getting involved? You could’ve easily walked away from all of this.”

“Well…” He paused for a moment, partially to think about what he felt and what she wanted to hear, but mostly to cough and catch his breath. “...you have to understand, Hope, I don’t get a lot of options or opportunities these days. It’s hard to find work of any kind as an ex-con, let alone in an industry as messed up as this one. So, after listening to Hank and listening to you, I mean, how could I not help, especially if I’m the only one who can? That’s how I felt the first time I got involved, and that’s how I feel now. If I can figure out this weird conspiracy that’s been haunting me for the last six years, I can prove to my ex and my daughter that I didn’t do what I did for nothing.”

She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat, so low that Scott nearly missed it. It almost sounded sympathetic. “I...almost forgot about your daughter. I know all about Maggie, but...I guess you both kept her out of the public eye. That’s not what my parents did with me.” She lowered her gaze to the steering wheel, unable to look at him. “What’s her name?”

“Cassie.”

“It’s a pretty name.” Hope, to Scott’s surprise, cracked a small smile. “If you want what’s best for Cassie, you might want to start by protecting yourself first. You may be sure about what happened to you in the past, but you have no idea what’s about to happen in the future. None of us do.”

He shrugged. “Sounds like an adventure.”

Hope snorted, shaking her head, though it seemed more playful than it had before. She let go of the brake to step on the gas again, still smiling as she pulled the car back onto the road. ______

After the excessively long discussion at Hank’s house, where, to Scott’s disappointment, Hope fell back onto her stone-faced stoicism and strong contempt for her father, Scott took a car home, not wanting to bother her further. His mind was still reeling from everything they’d talked about, all the (legal) details he’d shared, all the information Hank had, all the interruptions Hope made to remind them of the more immediate issue at hand. Ten minutes into the ride, Scott leaned forward to gently tap on the plexiglass and request that the driver make a detour.

He found himself standing on the doorstep of a house far nicer than his, in a gated community he had once known. It was only a few blocks over from where he and Maggie used to live when they were together, a step-up from the crappy apartment they had when they were first starting out, young and fresh-faced and naïve. He took a deep breath, then rang the doorbell.

A moment passed before someone answered, the door swinging open sharply. To Scott’s dismay, it was Paxton, Maggie’s fiancé, staring him down in complete disbelief. Scott grimaced. “Hey, man. Is my daughter home?”

Paxton scoffed. “You’re not supposed to be here, Lang.”

“I know, I know. I just...it’s been a long day, and I thought I would stop by and say hello. Can I at least do that?” Scott pleaded.

The decision seemed to be made for Paxton, however, as there was a sudden pattering of a little girl’s footsteps thundering down the hallway, and she practically barreled right into Scott’s side with a delighted squeal. “Daddy!” Cassie shrieked.

Scott let out a sigh of relief, crouching down and melting into her embrace, instantly soothed by the feeling of her face burrowed in his neck. He then pulled back a little so they were eye-to-eye. “Hey, peanut,” he said softly. “Been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“For good reason,” Paxton coughed, though he stepped aside so Scott could cross the threshold and get into the house. “I’ll tell Maggie you’re here.”

“Wait, no, don’t - ” Paxton disappeared up the stairs before Scott could stop him. Scott groaned, looking back to Cassie, who merely shrugged. “So what’ve you been up to? All kinds of trouble, I bet.”

“No way,” she protested. “I’ve been super good. Mommy said so.”

“That’s good,” Scott murmured, cupping her face in both hands so he could push her hair out of her face. She was a little taller than she’d been the last time he’d seen her, though her eyes were just as big and round and expressive as ever. He then realized she was wearing the pyjamas he’d bought and sent her last Christmas, which he had wrongly assumed Maggie had just thrown out before Cassie ever realized they existed. “Hey, uh, I’ve been working on a new movie. I’m not really sure if you’ll be old enough to watch it when it comes out, but it’s different than the stuff I usually do. And I’ve got some...interesting people I’m working with.”

“Int’resting how?” she asked.

“It’s a father-daughter team. Just like you and me,” he replied, poking her playfully in the stomach, causing her to giggle. “What do you think, peanut? You wanna act with me someday, too?”

“Scott, let our daughter have a normal life, please.” He glanced up to see Maggie standing at the top of the stairs, her arms folded across her chest defensively. Paxton was hovering at her back, glancing between them like he was watching a tennis match.

“How can I? Have you seen the house you guys live in?” Scott remarked. “What’s the mortgage like?”

“I’m not here to argue with you, Scott. I am here to remind you that you can’t just come by whenever you feel like it,” she said, furrowing her brow at him. “And it’s late. Cassie has to be in bed in fifteen minutes, she has gymnastics tomorrow.”

“Wait - I brought you something.” Scott pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to her. She made her way down the stairs to take it, eyeing it suspiciously as if she expected it to explode, and carefully pried it open. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

“Scott, this is - ”

“Six months’ worth, yeah,” he nodded. “I know it’s nothing compared to what you guys make, but I just wanna do my part. I wanna do what’s right.”

“But where did this come from?” Maggie sputtered.

“I got an advance payment for the project I’m working on,” he explained. “Just started today, actually.”

“Daddy’s doing a movie. He says it’s diff’rent from his other stuff,” Cassie informed her, smiling toothily.

“Scott, if you’re getting involved in something immoral again - ”

“Illegal, even,” Paxton interjected. Scott couldn’t help but think he tended to forget that he only played a cop on TV.

“ - then I want no part in it, and I don’t want a single cent,” Maggie finished, turning to shoot Paxton a dirty look.

“I promise, it’s honest money. I’m going straight. I’ve been going straight for the past year,” Scott insisted. “I just meant ‘different’ as in ‘different genre’, okay, it’s nothing to be worried about! I’m turning it around, Maggie. I swear.”

“Well…” She sniffed, carefully tucking the cheque back into the envelope. “I’m not cashing it until I know you’re in the clear. So go home, Scott. I’ll call you later this week, we can talk more about this movie of yours then.”

“I’m shooting all week, so I’ll text you when I’m free instead,” he suggested.

“Fine,” she said, pursing her lips. Scott knelt to give Cassie a hug goodbye, sneaking in a quick kiss on the forehead despite knowing he was already pushing his luck. “Can you at least tell me the name of one of your co-stars or something? Just to, I don’t know, make it sound more legitimate?”

Scott paused, straightening up. “Hope Van Dyne.”

Maggie scoffed incredulously; Paxton made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat. “Hope Van Dyne, are you serious? Everything I’ve heard about her, all that stuff about her parents, I mean...she seems...intense.”

Scott glanced down at Cassie. She grinned, reaching to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, chuckling mostly to himself. “So I’ve been told.” ______

a/n: I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter AU for Scott/Hope for ages, but could never quite think of a concept that would suit them specifically. Then this popped into my head after watching the trailer for Once Upon A Time In Hollywood and remembering how much I enjoyed The Nice Guys, and here we are! I started a post-Endgame fic focusing on the Ant-fam a long time ago as well, but that'll probably come after this one is complete.

As you've probably noticed, this fic is going to mash up elements of both Ant-Man movies in different ways. It'll also go back and forth on the film industry aspect and the conspiracy hunt aspect, with some chapters focusing on one more than the other. Next chapter will be posted next Friday and I'm hoping to post this weekly. Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I'll see you next time :)

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

16: The Gods See Everything

NSFW had sequestered themselves in an unused private locker room as far away as possible from the hustle and bustle of the crew and their counterparts. With John’s insistence. There was no quibble from McGuire. Although the smirk on their face indicated that they believed all things considered: this was agood night. This was not the first time John had bled. The horror of that reality began to tug at the corner of his mind more often now along with a mish mash of feelings that he could not begin to comprehend. Tonight however was the first time that John had spilled blood for this sport. Strangely enough, the incident and its aftermath did not scare him. Mike seemingly welcomed him to the club as they cleaned and bandaged the cut expertly. Then they examined their own wounds in a mirror and tended them as if this were an old routine. Knowing them, it most likely was. Knowing he would have to scout the main event, John recuperated under water almost too hot to the touch. The downpour soothed aching muscles. He quickly dressed back into his civilian clothing in a dry corner of the shower room. One of their team t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and his new favorite pair of tennis shoes. John swapped places with Mike right in time for what he was waiting for. And afterwards, John would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little pleased at the outcome. Not after the match to be precise, although he knew that Mike would have never left him in a lurch like that by now. A familiar opponent. There was a history. Something bubbled beneath the surface. Mike’s cellphone was sitting on top of their blue and orange duffel bag. John held the phone in his hand and stared at himself in the screen. As if it were forbidden, his other hand trembled as his touch woke the phone from its slumber. A picture of John and Mike in front of the eternal flame in Victory Square greeted him. A text notification announced Natalie’s plans. He swiped right and saw the square icon that looked like a camera. Maybe he should wait. Mike wouldn’t mind. Mike was so clever. They would know what to say. But. This was on him. And this phone wasn’t going to judge him. And maybe. Maybe it was alright. Just this time. There was trainer’s wooden stool in front of him. John flicked out the kickstand on the phone’s case and set it down on the stool. John pressed the red button. And there he was. Sitting. Television title on his lap.             One. Two. Three. Make good TV. “It’s been a long time coming for you, right? Kendrick Kross, you are finally going to get revenge for what I did to you.” The champion’s expression was one of surprise. Feigned if even possible for John’s nature. “Revenge is an awfully strong statement to make against my person. It’s implying that the wrong I inflicted upon you needs responded to in an equally brutal fashion. So all of this vitriol and anger, just what is the source? Was it because of a few weeks ago?” John shook his head. “No. After all, you don’t really trust your tag partner so what result did you expect? No. No. This desire for vengeance originates from just over three months ago. Your reign as Television champion was abruptly ended and you viewed me as the first step in your ascension back to just that. And what was the result? Even in the state I was in, I took all of that gusto you exhibited to reclaim your place in the stars and like a pin prick to a balloon, I put a stop to that.” John then stated his new challenger’s name as if to reaffirm that all attention is due on him. Just for this moment in time. “Kross.” He then chuckled a little even. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not sure what to think about you. Sometimes you are so charming and personable. And some of your views on the business, while blunt, are not incorrect. Sometimes you do have to look after yourself. Sometimes you have to shut out everything. Sometimes you have to be selfish. That’s what this is.” And he tapped a finger on the Television championship on his lap. “That’s why I won’t entertain anymore talk about my tag partner from you. You know nothing about what it means to trust someone in this business so much that the petty jealousies that normally consume people just do not apply. I don’t speak for Mike. She is free to do whatever she wishes. I’m sorry you and many others just can’t seem to understand that. NSFW means everything to me but right now in this moment, my focus is defending this Television championship.” John begins to think through his next statement and in a rare occurrence, at least on camera, his jaw clenched in what could be construed as animosity. “And that is where maybe I get a little aggravated. Aggravated at little ‘jokes’. Aggravated at the pot shots at my friends. Mike. Natalie. Maybe I shouldn’t take it personally. But when has this business become so personal?” Rhetorical, of course. John knew he would never get a clear answer on what he perceived as a transformation of the business from his first foray. A small thought pervaded his mindset and that was there never any chance and that this was indeed always the nature of this business. He pushed it away. The challenger’s tendencies came to the forefront. “Kross, you like combing over the minutia, don’t you? Contemplate this. I have not been pinned or submitted since my debut in this company on March 23rd of this year. There have been a few hiccups certainly. Difference is that I didn’t let those shortfalls define my existence. I have proudly defended this Television championship against all comers. Against people very much like you who have doubted my credibility as a professional wrestler.” As if for the audience’s consideration, a raised a hand, palm up, displayed what Kendrick has let his career amount to. “You, on the other hand, have let your failures define you. It all started with that ultimatum. I’m going to win this. I need to win this. This is my comeback, you said. Obviously, it was not. You persevered. You did mount that comeback. And finally. You had your chance. And once again, you were shut out in the cold.” His lips twisted in a slight smile. Part of him knew he shouldn’t find enjoyment but Mike’s sense of humor was starting to rub off on him. Or perhaps the smile came from this line of questioning? He was not deaf. He was not ignorant to where he came from and it would always be something that seemingly mattered to those who could not see him for who he was right now. “I have to ask you, Kross, what was that like? Being trapped. Helpless. Unable to act. You beat against the door but there was no way out. I hope that perhaps lent you some perspective before you choose to speak again about these sort of things.” Probably not, John concluded. He felt disgust at that little quip. But he did not equivocate. “So what now? Is this your latest machination? Can’t get it done as a tag team. Can’t get it done as a friendly rival. No, this time, it’s revenge. So again, I ask: what for? You told me I didn’t belong in this business. That I would wash out. That I didn’t have what it takes to compete in this ultra violent company. That’s easily disputed. Here I am. Reigning and defending Television champion. Here you are. About to complete that loop again. Rise. Fail. Repeat.” Each of those final three words were accompanied by the raising of a finger. Until three stood tall. He balled up them back into a relaxed position. “And maybe that is a little harsh. But I’m through with tolerating sleights on anything about me as a human being. You can insult everything that has to do about this.” John gestured all around him. “My previous challengers contended that they would be the ones to restore prestige to this championship. Let’s not kid ourselves. They wanted what I have and so do you. It’s not about prestige. It’s monetary gain. I am very proud to represent this company as its Television championship. Understand that this is the first championship I’ve ever earned. So it will always hold a special place in my heart whether this reign ends against you or not. Thing is, I don’t think you care very much about this championship.” Rapping his fingers on the top of the plate, John nodded. “You’ve made it very clear that you’re looking past me. You have greateraspirations. You want to punch your ticket for a shot at the grandest championship this industry has to offer.” John reached underneath the belt raised the title up. Its silver plates reflected in the light bulbs overhead. “This is just a means to an end. In my short time here, I have accomplished too much to be relegated as a stepping stone for your delusions of grandeur. You want it all. You want to get revenge. You want this. And then you want so much more.�� Tsk tsk tsk. He’d seen it once or twice. He felt it fit here as a response to his challenger's avarice. “Amongst calling me a liar, a wash-out, and someone who doesn’t belong here, you called me the modern-day Hercules.” He laughed softly at this. Perhaps remembering back to that strange morning in Atlanta. Mere hours away from meeting the person who would change his life forever. “Hercules did what he did, right? And so to absolve himself he preformed those great Labors. Kross. Pay attention. What have I been saying all this time?This isn’t about redemption. This Television championship is not a Labor to cleanse myself of the past. This is about taking what is mine. This is mine. And I will do everything in my power to make sure it remains mine.” Point. “But you.” John stabbed his finger at the camera. “There is a story that fits you. Look at you. Trying to crawl out from the Underworld. Kendrick Kross. King Sisyphus. You thought you’d cheat fate when you made claim to this championship before. But the Gods see everything. And so here you are. Rolling that boulder up the hill once more. Look.” A hand was raised just above his head. “Mere feet away from the top. But your efforts and struggles are eternally useless and soon you’ll find yourself at the bottom of that steep hill. Over and over. That is your true destiny.” Back down. He rested his hands back on his Television championship. He directed his gaze intently on the camera. Not past the camera in most of his musings and ponderings. “Because unlike that hill, Kross, I’ve scaled your mountain before and you’re no more than a molehill. So bring your lust for revenge. But think back and remember that if a nobody has-been could overcome such insurmountable odds, what could a man who has found his purpose do? I understand now. Everything you said. You might as well have been speaking to your own reflection. And that is what you’ll do after its all said and done. You’ll reflect back on what you couldn’t do again. But soon after, you’ll place your hands on that boulder and with all of your might, you’ll begin that ascension once more.” Off. He didn’t actually know how to send the video to wherever it needed to got. Mike would have to help with that. It’s not the other way. That way was tooeasy. The shower turned off. There was a period of silence, perhaps the light, nigh-inaudible rustle of terry cloth, before the shower’s occupant emerged. Laughing a little, they playfully shook their hair out like a wild animal and sent a sprinkler-like spray of water droplets scattering everywhere. One would think they would be a little more self conscious, coming out of the showers just in their underwear. Humming, they rummaged through their bag for their clean clothing. Mike seemed relieved from their shower as well and their mood was impeccable. "What a fuckin' night." For once, the statement was meant in a clear positive. “Yes. Even more so for you.” He looked straight ahead as they got dressed. “You talkin’ about my little errand after the match? You should’a heard the fucker scream. Sounded just like a three year old girl, I could hear it plain as the silver on your belt even while I was hauling ass out of there. It was ga-lorious.” “I’m also sure you heard his threats. I’m also sure you saw the rampant amount of interference from other mutual adversaries. To pull somebody from the fire. I understand that. To leap into the frying pan. I don’t understand that at all.” There was the sound of bare feet smacking against the floor a few times and the soft, metallic noise of a zipper being yanked up before they walked around to face him, their brow furrowed a bit. “Are you mad at me?” To anybody else, it would’ve been a facetious question, but right then, it was absolutely genuine. Their teeth worry a bit at their lower lip, a sure tic of nervousness from them, especially paired with their twiddling fingers. “It was just a rib. He was an asshole and he had it coming, least I thought so.” John nodded in agreement. But. “And what will be their response? Their numbers swell. Like minded individuals twisted with hatred for anyone that isn’t like them. And they aren’t the only ones. You affectionately refer to him as Cherry Garcia. I assume the sweetness implies your belief in his overall harmlessness. Circumstances have warped him to the point where he’s going beyond his cluelessness and intending to maim anyone who has wronged him. Over a prop.” “I know, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of any of them. I’m not fuckin’ scared of a… of anybody.” It was a peculiar hitch, but they sighed and shook their head, waving it off. They looked very contrite, as if they truly hadn’t considered any of this. “...I’m sorry though. I don’t care what happens to me, I can take care of myself. But if they start jumping you because of me doing stupid shit, I couldn’t stand it.” John zipped open his own bag and carefully laid the title belt on top of his blood-stained singlet and boots. Then he closed the bag back up. Then after the pause, he turned his attention back to his friend. “I feel the same way.” They blushed a little, scratching the back of their head, looking up at him with a crooked little smile that could easily be considered ‘cute’. “I-I’ll be more careful in the future, promise. No more heaving large amounts of sea creatures into the locker rooms of people I don’t like.” “Not for the time being.” John smiled wryly. “So I saved something on your phone to send upstairs. I apologize for being nosy. Yours is the only one that does that.” They waved a hand, and sat down to pull their socks and shoes on before hopping back to their feet. “Aw, don’t think nothin’ of it, you can use my phone any time you wanna record someth-- wait a second.” Mike’s face split into a huge grin, their eyes all but lighting up. “You recorded something? All by yourself? I mean, like, without me in the room at all? Nice going, bud! That’s awesome!” It could sound like an utterly patronizing statement, but the way they said it, it wasn’t at all. John qualified that. “Technically, I knew you were nearby. Anyway, I know you were hoping to meet up but Natalie texted that she was catching a flight back to North Carolina. There was an attachment but I did not look.” Mike’s expression boomeranged from disappointed to incredibly interested. “Probably for the best. But I’m absolutely gonna check that out later. Aw, that sucks though, I was hoping we’d get to see her one more time before we left in the morning.” John stood up and slung the strap of the gym bag over his shoulder. “Certainly. Mike.” His thoughts swung wildly from subject to subject. There was a lot of ugly germinating in his mind lately. Sometimes he felt like he was remembered things that he was almost sure he had shut the lid on. Easy to dismiss. Even the laugh. But there was something nagging him as of late. “Mike. As always this has been a week of many firsts for me. But you remember the morning after we camped in the woods?” “Yeah, why? Did something happen I didn’t notice?” “Feels like you kept wanting to say something. Then we saw that sign for the giant ball of yarn.” “Did I?” They tapped at their chin, seeming to be shuffling through their memories and trying to remember what they could’ve been thinking about. “Hm. If it was something, I can’t remember. Sorry, Church. I didn’t mean to worry you, if I did.” John lifted up Mike’s bag by its strap and extended it over to them. “Okay. I trust you.”

[glovenose82-blog]

Social Media Has Made Hip-Hop About Rapping Again – Not Creating Songs

Guest post by Martin Connor. This article originally appeared on Soundfly’s Flypaper

Here’s the thing about being the dominant musical genre in the world: you get so ingrained into mass culture that you simultaneously become indispensable and invisible — almost like air. You become so widespread that people barely notice when you show up now; you’re simply always there.

This happened to rock, then it happened to rap, and it will happen to whatever youth-embraced genre comes next. But social media platforms and the complete industry overhaul towards streaming have added a special twist to the usual story of musical ubiquity. Now, someone can be a rapper without even really releasing a song, much less a single, or, heavens forbid, an album.

And to me, this is really exciting. It is yet another example of how hip-hop has been able to innately adapt and creativity respond to whatever the world throws at it, which is, for many rappers, a fundamental tenet of the genre’s content as well.

“People are tired of glamorous pop acts?” Fine, us rappers will show the ugly side of life in our lyrics.

“The courts won’t let us producers sample music without paying insane fees?” Fine, we’ll release it for free and we’ll be our own labels from now on.

“Rap has no melody — they don’t even write their own music!” Oh yeah, how about The Roots, Kendrick Lamar, Chance, Dre, J. Cole, Odd Future?

So, how can a rapper “rap” without releasing a song?

Cruise the social media pages of any rapper under the age of 21, and you will find no announcements of forthcoming tour dates, no photos of them gracing a recording studio vocal booth, no links to new singles dropped on Tidal. It’s just rap, in the purest and most unadorned way possible.

Take Deep South up-and-comer RichBoi Streeter, for example. In tweets like these, RBS takes rap off wax and puts it on Twitter. The cinematic emojis make up their own little music video as Streeter writes in alternating accented and unaccented syllables that clearly spell out the structure of a normal musical bar.

Lil Yachty, now newly 21 years old, raps on his Twitter all the time.

Here’s a quirky zinger by the newly 22-year-old rapper Ugly God. 

Social media is the vessel now; it’s gone beyond “streaming platforms” for some young rappers. Now, releasing music is more about putting it immediately in the ears of their fans, with no filter. Take 15-year-old rap phenom Bhad Bhabie. Her discography boasts no more than nine songs, three of them have somehow miraculously made it onto the Billboard charts, and her fans have memorized the lyrics to all of them. How is this possible?

Surely, Bhabie’s national viral fame was aided by an appearance on the Dr. Phil show, but she was bound for internet success no matter how you play it. Her maximization of fame from a minimum of recordings is a result of the generation of organic buzz traffic from social media with tweets like this.

Take a look at that video, and wonder: it’s someone else’s rap, with someone else’s beat, and she obviously lip syncs lyrics — and yet, there’s no plagiarism or rhyme-biting being thrown around here. But of course, she’s got serious chops when it comes to fan network validation tweets like this one.

It’s the post-2000s iGen generation’s way of engaging in the celebrity, social-media conversation that pop music culture — that is to say, hip-hop — has become. And you could call this evidence that contemporary art-making is being overtaken by image, superficiality, or marketing… or you could look at it as yet another way hip-hop culture has sought to go back to its roots: that pure, unfiltered message delivered straight to the people with no middlemen. Twitter is the new Bronx street corner. 

Is there actually a difference between either format’s artistic integrity if the work is good?

For young rappers of this generation, YouTube channels and Instagram stories are the new version of the seemingly antiquated “label demo.” Why keep these gems private and unheard? Share every tiny musical advancement with the world and bring your audience into your world every chance you get!

RichBoi Streeter’s Spotify page only has two songs, both of them are , and there’s definitely no physical release out to support them, but they haven’t gotten much love (less than 1,000 plays each). “Hang Around” is especially great — it would feel right at home in the playlist of any listener who enjoys other trappers like Future, Migos, or Gucci Mane. On RichBoi’s YouTube page, however, which only dons four home-produced tracks with no real “video” element, three of the tracks are up over 10,000 views.

When this young generation of rappers do end up “publishing” songs, they often can’t help but communicate on them like it’s still a social media post. When the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting happened in February 2018, rather than using 280 characters to share his thoughts, late rapper XXXTentacion created and put out a song almost immediately dedicated to the victims called “Hope.” By releasing it within just a couple days of the shooting’s occurrence, XXX managed to transport the immediacy and urgency of social media to his music, rather than the inverse.

XXXTentacion’s song “Hate Will Never Win” so frequently intersperses snippets of Donald Trump’s equivocating press conference after the violent 2017 event in Charlottesville, VA, that it sounds like a real-life “Twitter @me battle.”

Rappers who claim they’re not rappers, like Lil Yachty, are supposedly proof of rap’s empty value system. In reality, Lil Yachty and his insider-outsider brethren aren’t disrespecting the culture; they’re simply recognizing the reality of how the “music industry” reflects only a part of what hip-hop really is right now, and they’re trying to reclaim this nomenclature as greater than the reductionist view of “studio artists making songs and publishing them.”

This dynamic is also found in Childish Gambino’s proclamation that he doesn’t want to be a rapper; it’s in Kanye West’s assertion that people use the word as a slur against him; it’s in Blac Youngsta’s diss track against the old guards of hip-hop; it’s in Jake Paul becoming a YouTube superstar and then deciding to start his own record label like his idol Dr. Dre. And so these pronouncements are less a dissociation from rap, and more an aspirational expansion of what rap can and should be. Social media has thus helped to take rap back to the basics — nothing but “beats, rhymes, & life” (as A Tribe Called Quest put it back in 1996).

Hip-hop is really just a way of life. Full stop.

And it isn’t the most important genre in the world today simply because people somehow magically like rap more than, say, EDM. It’s storytelling in real time, every day, out on the street and buzzing in your pocket, not waiting two years for the record store shelves to fill back up. Hip-hop is the most popular genre in the world because it makes use of all available contemporary communication media to tell its stories, and it does that really, really well. 

Source: http://www.musicthinktank.com/blog/social-media-has-made-hip-hop-about-rapping-again-not-creati.html

[bthenoise]

Noiseworthy: Here’s Why America Part Two Is The Musical Head Trip You Need To Experience

As much as you think it might be an easy task, it’s not always that simple to showcase new, up-and-coming artists. Usually when it comes to these sorts of things, if you aren’t familiar with the band’s name, what’s going to make you click our story versus the 667 Best TikTok Fails of 2020? Yeah, not always that simple.

However, putting all doubts aside, we’re going to keep highlighting promising young bands we believe in. Bands that stand out against the tiring monotony of our music scene. You know, bands like New Jersey noisemakers America Part Two.

Combining a multitude of influences from everything classic rock to early 2010′s emo, this talented East Coast trio is like nothing you’ve ever heard. As we’ve has previously declared, the band’s distinctive style is like if Title Fight wrote a Creedence Clearwater Revival record. Seriously, with songs like their recently released “Glaciers,” you won’t know if you’re dropping acid at Woodstock or recovering from a heat stroke at Warped Tour. Either way, America Part Two is a band that will make feel something like never before.        

In order to get to know a little more about the emerging environmentally friendly act, we reached out to members Alex Fabio (vox/guitar), Fred Rainville (vox/bass), and Sam Weingarten (drums) to hear all the band’s personal style and inspiration. To check out our chat and discover your newest obsession, be sure to look below. Afterward, make sure to pre-order America Part Two’s new album Price of a Nation out March 12th via Revival Recordings.  

Where did you grow up? And was there a music scene where you grew up?

Alex: We grew up in New Jersey - a lil bit of beach, a lil bit of city, and a whole lotta music. Like most places in the country, the music is directly correlated to its geography. The scenes in south, central (which exists), and north Jersey are all their own organisms. And the beauty is, [they’re] all pretty supportive of each other. That’s the key.

Sam: There were local shows just about every week at Manville Elks Lodge, Freehold VFW, Spotswood VFW, Marlboro Rec Center, or small bars that would let kids play on a Sunday afternoon like The Saint and a ton of iconic bigger shows at Starland Ballroom.

Fred: When we were growing up, so many touring bands came through, it became clockwork that the small local bands opening those shows would start touring eventually.

What were you and your bandmates doing before your band formed? Jobs? School?

Fred: We started forming bands by middle school. Alex and I started touring in high school. We’ve worked every service industry job you could imagine to help us save for tour and feel like we had a little cash when we came home.

Alex: I was a dishwasher, delivery driver, bar back, waiter, show booker and whatever else I could do. Brookdale CC was my edumacation.

Sam: I went to school out in Philly at Drexel and played in a different band at the time. All of our old bands played the same house show in Philly before AP2. Workin random retail or food jobs.

Who or what influenced you to start playing music?

Sam: My parents started me on violin from a super young age. Wasn’t exactly into it but def thankful for what it taught me to use later down the road. Started finding bands from friends or my parents and kept following the rabbit hole down…

Fred: My family had all types of music going. Rock n roll, funk, 90s alt, 2000s pop. I picked up a bass after learning piano around age 8. My cousins had picked up drums and guitar. I looked up to my uncle who is an accomplished bassist. So I became the only kid I knew who played bass. My first band was called The Brethren.

Alex: My cousin blasted me with Slipknot & Slayer when I was staying with him in Greece. I was 8 years old and it shook me to my absolute core. On the flip side, watching bands like All Time Low carve their own path from the ground up showed me that this is something that could actually be done!

If you could collaborate with any artist of your choice who would it be?

Fred: Poison Ivy or Ozzy

Sam: Reggie Watts

Alex: Hayley Williams, Travis Barker or Rick Rubin. I would spontaneously combust.

What’s the best live performance you’ve ever seen?

Alex: So many. Maybe A Day To Remember at Convention Hall in Asbury Park, NJ. Opened a pit to “2nd Sucks” with a dude on crutches... never saw them again. Or the drag show I saw in Philly Valentines Day 2020. My car got towed but it was totally worth it.

Fred: Title Fight or Green Day

Sam: Power Trip in Texas, Lorna Shore, or some random jazz homie out in public shredding it.

Are there any recent releases or performances that have inspired you?

Alex: Everything Just Friends has been doing the past couple years has been sick. Charlene Joan has been dropping straight smashes.

Fred: The Bluechips - concert series performance and new album

Sam: Tricot. Random finds deep in the depths of Spotify or Bandcamp.

If you could have one of your songs be on a TV show or movie of your choice what would it be?

Fred: SNL and Destroy

Sam: What if that’s already in the works ??

Alex: ...

Three bands or artists that would be your dream to tour with?

Sam: A realistic one would be: Turnstile, Microwave, and Just Friends. But unrealistically: The Beatles, Kendrick Lamar, and Jesus Piece

Alex: Title Fight, Rage Against The Machine, Tyler The Creator

Fred: Black Sabbath, The Stooges and The Cramps

What would you like to be remembered for? Musically or not.

Fred: Integrity

Sam: The riff, spreadin’ awareness, and changing the world

Alex: Making a positive impact

Best piece of advice anyone has given you?

Fred: Practice

Alex: “The crowd’s only gonna go as hard as you go”

Sam: A tree has its whole blueprint in a tiny seed and buy the dip.

What have you learned since being in the music industry?

Fred: Most people aren’t here for the music.

Sam: We’re all in it together but you still cannot rely on anybody. Gotta create and stay on your own grind because you’re in the right place at the right time if you’re really in this for real.

Alex: There is no getting around any single step. The process is it in itself.

The best thing currently on the internet is?

Sam: Reddit, Robinhood, watching giant influences have actual conversations through podcasts, and the weird ability to be in anyone’s pocket at any time.

Alex: The fact that we have the entire recorded history of mankind on this here device.

Fred: The Cramps Live at Napa State Mental Hospital

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 17/10/2020 (Headie One, D-Block Europe)

You know, I kind of expected a bigger impact from D-Block Europe given that this is their debut studio album. I guess maybe people are as sick of these guys as I am; the mixtapes they released got tracks higher on the chart than this, and that was without some of the big name features they had. Regardless, we still have nine songs to cover here, so... this week’s #1 is still “Mood” by 24kGoldn and iann dior, and welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

Last week had two album bombs – or at least whatever you can call “album bombs” on a chart that tries its hardest to stop those from happening – so naturally there are quite a few drop-outs and returning entries from the UK Top 75. Two of each from 21 Savage with Metro Boomin and Bryson Tiller are gone from last week, with the only songs from both albums still on the chart being the ones with a “(feat. Drake)” in the title. Typical. None of the BLACKPINK songs from last week have stayed either. Other than those six, we also have a handful of notable drop-outs like “What’s Love Got to Do with It” by Kygo and Tina Turner, “Hallucinate” by Dua Lipa and “POPSTAR” by DJ Khaled and Drake, which probably just felt the impact of dumb UK chart rules about streaming. All of these are pretty decent songs – the first two could have peaked a lot higher – so what in the returning entries is coming to replace them? Well, we have “Wishing Well” by the late Juice WRLD back at #74 and a theme of long-running hip-hop tracks like “Dinner Guest” by AJ Tracey and MoStack back at #72 and “I Dunno” by Dutchavelli featuring Tion Wayne and Stormzy at #68, all of which peaked in the top 20. The biggest gain this week was for Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” which is in the top 40 this week and predicted to be even higher in the weeks to come, especially in the US. We usually send 40-year-old songs to #1 but the States seem to have caught up with that too. The biggest fall this week was for the debut last week, “Outta Time” by Bryson Tiller featuring Drake, plummeting from #24 to #58, which is understandable; I mean the only reason it got that high in the first place was because of Drake. Now, onto the new arrivals.

NEW ARRIVALS

#63 – “BLM” – OFB (Bandokay and Double Lz) featuring Abra Cadabra

Produced by N2theA

Like many people, fans and artists alike, due to the recent events in America and across the world, I’ve gained a renewed interest in protest music, particularly songs about systematic racism and police brutality. Many artists, including some of the biggest out right now like Lil Baby, have made songs about this recently but really this is not an isolated incident or chain of events. Rappers, musicians and activists have discussed these issues for years and the fact that the general public is finally latching onto some of it makes me hopeful. Seriously though, if you’re looking for a great song from a couple years back protesting against the same topic, “Don’t Don’t Do It!” by N.E.R.D. featuring Kendrick Lamar is right there. OFB is a drill collective from Tottenham, and the group actually contains some genuinely massive names, like Headie One and RV, but here, we just have Bandokay and Double Lz, as well as affiliate Abra Cadabra on the chorus. There’s also a sample of Coldplay here, which actually works as a melancholy piano component of this drill beat, even if it feels like a bizarre choice at first glance. I don’t really need to talk to you about the beat, right? In a song like this, content is what matters and, yeah, it makes a pretty solid case for itself sticking up to inhumane police officers, even if some of the lyrics do feel oddly surface level at times, particularly Abra Cadabra and Double Lz, even though he does have personal anecdotes to tell, but not as much as Bandokay on the first verse where he does get pretty damn in-depth.

There’s no evidence on S but 21 years got slapped to his chest / Yo, I just want P like Diddy, police on my back ‘cah I look like Pops

Bandokay is the son of the late Mark Duggan, a 29-year-old Black man who was unlawfully shot and killed by police in Tottenham in 2011, sparking protests and riots across Britain. This feels particularly profound but also unnerving from Bandokay because he sees himself as next in line for this treatment, talking about how it still haunts him and when he finds out about a friend of his getting life in prison, he’s stressed because he feels like it could very well be him locked up in there for reasons equally unjustified or clearly at the fault of minority disenfranchisement, particularly for young Black men who are driven to the streets because of it. Both Bandokay and Abra Cadabra discuss how gang culture is seen as an excuse for police officers to shoot, with the chorus digging into how because of the violence depicted in Black art due to segregation and societal issues still present in the modern world, that gives them the justification for assault and murder of innocent Black lives. Double Lz goes a bit off-topic here but I can’t say that recall of a phone conversation he had with his friend in jail doesn’t hit hard given the context, especially in a time where we feel more distant than ever with fellow humans. I don’t think it’s as good as “The Bigger Picture” but these guys definitely get my respect for this. Check it out.

#55 – “Proud” – D-Block Europe

Produced by Mind the Gap

And now for almost the exact opposite of social commentary, serious topics and melancholy production: D-Block Europe, although this isn’t actually D-Block Europe, it’s half of the band. Young Adz has three solo songs on this stupidly long album and Dirtbike LB has two, one of which has a feature so I’m pretty sure we all know who’s the Swae Lee in this British Rae Sremmurd... especially since Young Adz’s solo song debuted this high. The song is actually quite different from their standard fare at least in terms of lyrical content, with Adz going into the gang culture and its effect on his mental health, particularly his relationship and drug addiction. His off-beat nasal crooning here is actually kind of charming under these levels of Auto-Tune and a fast-paced trap beat that actually works a lot once it kicks in a minute and a half in. The second verse, particularly, is pretty excellent, where he dedicates the verse to his daughter, who he hopes will not follow in his footsteps of “lifestyles” but also promises her wealth and a continued faith in Islam. The way he talks about how he wants his daughter to succeed even if he dies and later on his companionship with Dirtbike LB is... kind of beautiful, honestly, and does make me look past the mixing issues and... interesting delivery from Young Adz. The uncredited whispery vocals from RAYE on the outro definitely add to the feel of the track and, yeah, I like this quite a lot more than I expected but it still doesn’t make me want to check out that album.

#53 – “I Miss U” – Jax Jones and Au/Ra

Produced by Jax Jones, Mark Ralph, Cass Lowe, Alex Tepper and Tom Demac

Hey, remember Au/Ra? Well, I didn’t either until I checked her Spotify page and saw she was behind that “Panic Room” song that I loved from last year, specifically the remix from CamelPhat – seriously, I’d like to see more on the charts from those guys too. I’m not sure Jax Jones will be able to live up to the brilliantly-constructed ominous future house of that song, but this is supposed to be a silly love or break-up song so I expect a cute, vaguely tropical radio-friendly dance-pop tune with some 90s deep house influence thrown in there, like most of Jax’s stuff ends up being. Anyone else kind of sick of this stuff? I know it gets plays in the clubs which are still in the UK and much of Europe, using this type of dance music, but this robotic draining of the emotion from generic break-up tunes sang by indie-adjacent women over a four-on-the-floor beat is something I’ve heard hundreds of times before. I know this has been a British staple for decades but the new-ish style of vocal drops and generally tired production is growing pretty stale for me at least. It can work when it does, and Au/Ra isn’t a bad fit for this slick, beeping production – this is a pretty okay song all things considered – but there’s not any warmth or quality in this type of stuff anymore, let alone variation. This song is fine but I do hope it kind of underperforms for Jax just to set a precedent that this is exhausting and honestly kind of a cheap ploy for plays at this point. Is that too harsh? Probably, but after two and a half years of seeing these types of songs every other week, it gets on your nerves.

#49 – “Not a Pop Song” – Little Mix

Produced by Robin Oliver Fred, Tayla Parx and MNEK, peaked at #37 in Ireland

Does that mean I don’t have to review it? I want to like this girl group, especially after they ditched the manufactured pop image from Syco and signed to another label that I assume does not treat him as horrifically, but I feel like the music hasn’t changed or gotten any more interesting at all. In fact, this song serves as kind of a diss track to Simon Cowell, and not in any way a subtle one at that. “I don’t do what Simon says”? I mean, don’t you guys also have a talent show you executive-produced, and is airing currently on the BBC? Sigh, well, is the song any good? Well, it tries a little bit more with that guitar loop but not with the clunky trap beat, the harmonised triplet flows in the pre-chorus that sound awkward, and most importantly, the lyrics, which are otherwise fine in how they represent the music industry, a corrupt and unfriendly business, but not in a way that feels like it’s revealing any secrets or anything that really hits. Especially the chorus, where that “I don’t give a what” chant just undermines the whole message. Shouldn’t the point be that now you CAN swear on your songs? I don’t know, this is just worthless but admittedly a lot more listenable than their last record so I’ll give it to them there, even if it is out of a clear effort to be as inoffensive as possible.

#46 – “Flowers” – Chip

Produced by Dready

So, in Chip’s pretty garbage verse on “Waze” earlier this year, he took some shots at an underground artist that many assumed were shots at Stormzy, who commented on this with some subliminals on “I Dunno”. Naturally, in response to this light-hearted beef from two former good friends all based on misinterpretation, Stormzy pulled up to the guy’s house, with only Chip’s brother and sister being home. His sister even felt the need to pull out a kitchen knife to defend herself, so, yeah, I have no sympathy for Stormzy here. Unless this is based on personal drama that we don’t know of, he really unnecessarily escalated this petty dispute. Hence, Chip has two diss tracks here, this is the first of them; the other didn’t chart. To quote Chip’s manager, Ashley Rae, who is also name-dropped in the song: Stormzy pulled up unannounced to Chip’s building with three other people. The building was secure with gates and an intercom system. He didn’t knock. He came in and was posted in the car park screaming for Chip to come outside. After being told to leave twice as Chip wasn’t home, he refused and made his way to Chip’s apartment on the top floor where family were inside and it got heated. He caused a commotion so the neighbours called the police. This diss track seems to share my view of the situation; Chip even briefly brings up the political climate as he talks about how Stormzy should have expected the police to be called – after all, when people in Essex see black men shouting outside a building, regardless of their innocence, the authorities seem to get involved. In this diss track, Chip calls back to other disses he’s made, notes his disappointment in Stormzy collaborating with Ed Sheeran when he’s the one who escalated to potential violence – you’d think he’d be smarter not to risk his image – and sending some personal shots at his break-up with Maya Jama, which actually made me chuckle, particularly when he says that a throwaway track on a collaborative album seems to have incited a bigger reaction than that long-term relationship coming to an end. He goes even deeper into how he thinks Stormzy’s activism is hypocritical if he wants to incite black-on-black violence by pulling up to Chip’s house, and references the late 2Pac and Pop Smoke and... okay, he just ravages Stormzy here, and it helps that this beat is menacing, even if I don’t like Chip’s delivery or voice, as I never have. “Killer MC”, the other diss track, is a lot vaguer and with a pretty chaotic beat which Chip can barely flow on, so yeah, I’m glad this one charted. Man, a lot of aggressive, lyrically-focused songs today, huh?

#34 – “Destiny” – D-Block Europe

Produced by Jony Beats

And just like that, they appear. This is our second and last song from that D-Block Europe album debuting this week, and it’s only high because of a video anyway – that and the fact it’s the first on the album. Otherwise, this is typical D-Block Europe fare, albeit this time with a hilarious but absolutely pointless 30-second acoustic guitar intro that just consists of the guys whispering “Destined” with as much reverb as possible. Dirtbike LB is actually on the hook this time, making it even more lethargic. Young Adz is filling in empty space with ad-libs again, including his signature “SKI!”, and in his first verse here, I genuinely laughed out loud after that booming “bow-bow-bow-bow” vocal interlude coming out of nowhere. It honestly caught me off-guard. I kinda like Young Adz’s pretty energetic flow here though, and he definitely plays with the boring trap beat in a way that is pretty funny. He feels the need to say “Happy G-day” to a person in the booth with him, which shows that he’s freestyling at least some of this stuff, which is kind of impressive. He “endorses” new straps, which is just funny wording to me, as is when he says 9 Goddy “had” Norwich, like he just owned the city – although, as a fellow East Midlander, I kind of appreciate the shout out. My favourite part in the verse is probably his attempt at 2012 hashtag-rap, where he says “half a mil’, mortgage”, but the beat cuts out when he mutters a wimpy “rurr” ad-lib, and that almost forgives his weedy delivery and gross Auto-Tune. I think “Rurr, mortgage” makes up for the chorus, “Break a brick like Tetris”. Honestly, I get why people prefer Adz’s energy and funny content because the only thing to laugh at with Dirtbike LB’s bleak, almost depressing lyrics about materialism, meaningless sex and drug addiction, is how he phrases everything in a manner that is uniquely middle-class and polite, especially in this verse, and how he just seems to be accepting the dark topics he talks about in his verse with a shrug of his shoulders. It’s kind of concerning, I mean, I don’t like the music but I hope he’s okay. In conclusion, the song’s fine and honestly I kind of love the first verse but that chorus is dull and really it’s a pretty poorly-mixed trap cut. To be honest, if there’s more of this energy from Adz on the album, I might just check it out. The guy’s growing on me recently.

#29 – “Cool with Me” – Dutchavelli and M1llionz

Produced by The Fanatix

Apparently this guy is Stefflon Don’s brother, and now that she has been pretty quiet recently, I guess it’s time for Dutchavelli to step into the limelight, and he’s bringing fellow Birmingham rapper M1llions with him for a song with not much of a chorus to speak of. Instead, Dutchavelli and M1llionz trade verses and bars for three minutes over a pretty banging drill beat, with an eerie choral sample throughout and honestly pretty great verses from the two of them here. Dutchavelli sounds really aggressive here and I love the yelling in the ad-libs, even if it adds to some questionable vocal mixing throughout. M1llionz’s casual, meandering flow and cadence works really well in contrast, even if really nothing is said here other than gunplay and flexing. The beat feels like it never properly drops at all, and it just slides out abruptly by the end, but if this is an intro track to an upcoming album with a following track that drops us straight into it, I could see this working. As is, well, I’ve not got much to say about it but this is decent.

Also, I’d like to point out Dutch’s Wikipedia page, particularly the “in popular culture” section.

Dutchavelli has gained a reputation for being a hard man. This paired with his large stature has lead to a proliferation of memes relating to this within popular culture such as 'When Dutchavelli goes to a club, he asks the bouncer for ID'.

God, I love Wikipedia.

#24 – “Parlez-Vouz Anglais” – Headie One featuring Aitch

Produced by Al Hug and Ambezza

Okay, so our last two songs are both from Headie One and his overly long, 20+ track album he released last week, Edna. Do you see a trend with these British rap artists and debut albums? To be fair, I am more interested in this album, and I’ll probably listen to it after writing this. The feature list looks pretty good – I mean, it’s got Drake, Kenny Beats, Skepta and ironically, Young Adz on a song that did NOT chart this week – and I really loved “Both” from last year, so it’s probably worth checking out at least some of the songs. This song, however, was not one of those I was interested in. Man, I’m so angry I come back to this show and get back-to-back weeks with high debuts from rappers featuring this pioneer of gentrified drill music. He’s already made a song romanticising French women and high fashion as well, so it’s not like this is new territory for the guy. Admittedly, I do enjoy this cute, lounge-y elevator music sample but it feels pretty drowned-out by both the bog-standard UK drill beat and awkward flows from both, who are doing a similar thing to Dutchavelli and M1llionz did in the last song we talked about, but with more repetition to fill up time and more trading bars between the two, as well as an actual chorus, which is about as dull as bricks. Both Aitch and Headie have uninteresting flows and use awkward ad-libs to disguise a clear lack of any attempts at good wordplay or content that goes any further than worryingly blatant misogyny from Aitch and constant flexing. It’s not interesting, and it’s not good either.

#11 – “Princess Cuts” – Headie One featuring Young T & Bugsey

Produced by iO and TobyShyBoy

I’m not surprised this was the track that debuted this high. Thanks to TikTok picking up “Don’t Rush”, which is a brilliant song by the way, this group isn’t just big in the UK like most of these rappers, they are genuinely global superstars for the British hip hop scene and I love that. They made Aitch’s debut onto the charts both listenable and promising on “Strike a Pose” (It’s really a feat) and are constantly bringing smooth flows and Bugsey’s really nice voice over good production. They are more than deserving of being how British hip hop is viewed worldwide, even as they got onto the Hot 100 with Headie One earlier this year. I was surprised too. So, yeah, I’m excited to hear this new collaboration between the two artists, and, surprise, surprise, it’s really good. I love the nostalgic early-mid-2000s R&B beat especially with that slick Latin guitar and pounding bass groove. I love Young T singing on the hook over really beautiful vocodered samples and funky keys in the instrumental. I love Headie’s pretty impressive and at times smooth flow in his two verses. I love how Young T & Bugsey share a sing-songy cadence in their verse. Man, I love everything about this song sonically, and content-wise, the lyrics don’t really leave that much to be desired either. Sure, it’s pretty much just towing the line between a hook-up jam and flexing, but there’s enough funny lines and convincing delivery to make this worth checking out. I also love how Headie starts the smooth, sexy hook-up jam with “My young boy got the stick like Moses with the Israelites” in his deep, gruff tone, which is just comedy gold. Headie also takes time to praise the Lord and show his limited knowledge of geography, which is either insensitive to Asians or satirical depending on how you look at it. Either way, it works and it’s funny. This is just an incredible song and I hope it sticks around. Check it out.

Conclusion

There’s actually not much here to complain about, even with D-Block Europe’s two songs here. Little Mix take the Dishonourable Mention for “Not a Pop Song” and Worst of the Week is going to Headie One for “Parlez-Vouz Anglais” featuring Aitch but I might as well balance that out by giving the guy Best of the Week for “Princess Cuts” with Young T & Bugsey. I don’t want Stormzy to pull up to my house next, so I’ll delay on giving Chip the Honourable Mention, but that is instead going to “BLM” by Bandokay, Double Lz and Abra Cadabra for simply being necessary, although I’m scared to admit Young Adz was pretty close here. I don’t know what’ll happen next week – hopefully not that new Kanye song – but here’s the top 10 for Friday’s chart:

You can follow me @cactusinthebank for occasional political Twittage and I’ll see you next week.

[i-am-very-very-tired]

Nicki Minaj posted a comment on Instagram about the number of white rappers sitting comfortably atop the iTunes rap chart that became so “controversial,” she deleted it. Good thing the Internet lasts forever. Nicki’s post is below.

A post shared by The Shade Room (@theshaderoom) on Dec 16, 2017 at 6:07pm PST

“It’s a great time to be a white rapper in America huh?”

In the screenshot, Eminem, Lil Pump, Post Malone, NF and G-Eazy round out the top five spots. Nicki’s 11 words may be controversial to some but to me, they are just the truth. These men have hit songs, yes? They are white or white passing (Lil Pump is actually of Mexican descent), yes? Then where did Onika Tanya Maraj lie to you? Why are you so outraged?

Even after she amended her post, many commentators hit back at Nicki Minaj calling her jealous (please), petty and even racist for pointing out a FACT. That’s a lot of white rappers. Again, WHY YOU MAD? Nicki’s critics have used the defense that the success of these rappers have nothing to do with race; that these songs are hits because that’s what fans want to hear. A friend e-mailed me yesterday with the same argument against Nicki’s post: “charts don’t rank people based on race. If you put out a catchy song, you’ll hit the top ten. Simple as that.”

I love this friend but I wholeheartedly disagree with them. It’s not simple. The artists who hit the Top 10 have largely been given the access and opportunity to be there. Whose songs get the most radio play before they land on those charts? Which powerful white label executive decided to sign and promote the sh-t out of certain artists? Who lands a record deal? Just because a song is played on the radio doesn’t mean it deserves to be there or that it’s there simply because audiences demanded it. If you think the pop charts truly reflect the best songs ever created then please explain the rise of Butterfly by Crazy Town.

And then there’s the whole issue of which artists, after the record deals and after the hit songs, get the most money and accolades. Eminem is the highest-selling rapper of all time. Em is quick to point out his privilege but that doesn’t mean he gets a pass from benefitting from it. When he first came along, the response to his music was like he invented rap and he went on to do better financially than any black rapper before him. Let’s not forget that time Macklemore won a Grammy over the greatest rapper of our generation, Kendrick Lamar. There can only be true meritocracy in a fair and equal system. The music industry is not rooted in equality for a lot of reasons but mainly because the system’s backdrop is America, one of the most racist and historically disenfranchised places in the free world.

Consider it like this: Nicki Minaj is a black female rapper in an industry that has consistently degraded and overlooked black women. She’s also a black woman herself living in a country that is designed to oppress black women. She’s had to work twice as hard to get everything these white dudes seemingly strolled in to get and she’s still only one of two black female rappers currently thriving on mainstream charts (shout out Cardi B). Then, imagine Nicki Minaj looking at those charts and they’re full of white men. She’s watching white men monopolize a genre that was created by black people as an expression of the frustration of being black while also being a celebration of blackness. Hip-hop was the safe space black Americans created when they had so few spaces of their own. At the very least, I don’t think it’s hard to understand why this screenshot and these specific rappers might make Nicki stop and say, “Huh.”

If the Twitter mentions of black writers are any indication, many people want to dismiss every observation that has the word “white” in it as racist. Nicki Minaj was making a commentary on the state of an industry and a culture she belongs to. She has every right to do that and she literally just stated FACTS. Black people are constantly called out for outrage culture but it’s the Beckys (men included) all up in Nicki’s comments who are the definitions of precious, little snowflakes.

Let’s also address the double standard of the reaction to Nicki’s comments. She linked to a J.Cole interview where he pointed out how white people have taken over jazz, a genre also invented by black people. Here are J.Cole’s comments:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BcyaxjslUJM/

“The entire page of iTunes Jazz is 99.7% white people... Mind you, anybody can do whatever music they want but you have to understand that Jazz is a black form of music in its origins. And not only is it a black form of music, it was the hip-hop of its day. It was that much of a rebellious music."

Last year, there was entire Oscar-winning movie about a white dude mansplaining jazz. What I think J.Cole is trying to say here is that he doesn’t want the 2054 equivalent of Ryan Gosling to star in a movie where he saves hip-hop.

In response to the backlash to Nicki’s comments, Wale (a rapper who would probably be WAY more successful if he was white in my opinion) came to her defense and pointed out how black artists are often relegated to “urban” or R&B sections while white artists get to be pop and thus, have more mass appeal. We’ve seen this happen to Beyoncé at the Grammys, for example. So, J.Cole and Wale essentially said the exact same things as Nicki and no one is forcing them to delete posts or calling them racists. To borrow a phrase my friend Allya says often, “ain’t that being a black woman?” In Nicki’s words:

“Whenever a black woman speaks on ANYTHING she’s labeled as “mad” “angry” “bitter.”

The rise of the white rapper was always inevitable. When hip-hop became the genre dominating mainstream music charts and rappers became the official arbiters of cool, it was only a matter of time before the white kids who grew up listening to them would want to rap too. None of the above points are saying that white guys shouldn’t rap. I’m not saying that. I want to make that very clear. The conversation here is about bringing attention to the privilege that comes with being a white rapper, especially one that’s mediocre. Eminem is not a mediocre rapper. You could argue that he’s the only name on this Top 10 who deserves to be there based on talent alone. I just tried to get through a Lil Pump song and I couldn’t make it. I hadn’t heard of NF until today. He’s not terrible but he sounds so much like a PG Slim Shady knockoff it’s eerie. G-Eazy is the WORST. Post Malone has put out a couple of catchy songs but he’s the dude who repeatedly disrespects the very industry he exploits to his advantage. I can’t imagine a black female rapper getting away with some of the ignorant sh-t Post Malone has said about hip-hop. And yet, these dudes get to enjoy a level of success that talented, legendary black female MCs like Rah Digga and Trina never did or that current overlooked voices like Young M.A and Noname have yet to achieve.

It used to be that if you were a white rapper, before you were accepted by hip-hop fans, you had to be anointed by a member of the black rap community. Think Dr. Dre for Eminem or Run DMC for The Beastie Boys. In one post, Nicki said she wanted to sign a white rapper. I don’t see anything wrong with that if it’s an MC Nicki Minaj believed in and she got a cut of that cheque when they hit the iTunes Top 10. A New York Times piece about G-Eazy last year called this moment in hip-hop the “post-accountability era of white rap, when white artists are flourishing almost wholly outside the established hip-hop industry,” and that, “the freedom afforded them by their success verges on entitlement.” Entitled white guys are dominating hip-hop and Nicki Minaj isn’t allowed to point this out?

[theblacktivity-blog]

“DAMN”: A Review.

Over two years after the release of the critically acclaimed and Grammy winning sophomore album “To Pimp a Butterfly”, Kendrick Lamar has done it again with the release of his long awaited follow up “DAMN”. While it has been obvious to many in recent years that Kendrick is not only the future of hip hop but very much its present, his new album also further solidifies him as one of Black America’s most important poetic voices, period. If “To Pimp a Butterfly” was heralded for the melodic way in which issues such as racial inequality, profiling, and depression were tackled with skillful clarity, its sequel can be likened to the way a surgeon after addressing the larger tumor, uses his scalpel with steady precision to cut away at and expose the nuances of its effects. This is to say that whereas “To Pimp a Butterfly” was in many ways more of a ‘what’ album, “DAMN” goes a bit further as Kendrick in fourteen tracks, gives us an exposition into the ‘how’s’ of systemic racism and interpersonal conflict. Themes of fear, self-doubt, isolation, mistrust, fame, and posturing are woven in between cinematic production that has the effect of pulling the “foreign” listener into the matrix of schizophrenia that at times characterizes the emotional toll of the Black experience in America.  Like most renowned artist, Kendrick through his willingness to be vulnerable and introspective, portrays with stunning depth the many cruxes at which Black folk stand when attempting to deal with life in a world in which they find themselves the seemingly perpetual “subject”. Even further, this latest album sonically succeeds in framing such matters in a way that has made Kendrick Lamar synonymous with being hailed as the poetic interpreter of Black life, by evoking strong idioms of the blues and classic soul via pin point production. While it is true that most artist and thinkers are products of their time often drawing from that which is available personally and macrocosmically, it is just as true that many still can trace at least some of their theory from a predecessor, however intentional or not. Considering this fact, one could argue that in Kendrick’s “DAMN” is most reminiscent of Richard Wright’s semi-autobiographical narrative “Black Boy”. While the former’s latest work isn’t what one would consider autobiographical in the purest sense, Kendrick does utilize personal innuendo in such a way as to strike a note with the listener who can appreciate Kendrick’s honesty about his own personal battles with identity and social crisis. In this way, “DAMN” cleverly blends the polemical with the intimate. Like Wright, Kendrick is apt at painting a vivid picture as it pertains to the totality of subjugation and the myriad of its absurd effects on not only the body, but the psyche and behavior of the oppressed. In the opening Kendrick goes into a short story in which he speaks of a blind woman who appeared to be looking for something, approaching the woman he say’s “it looks like you lost something and I want to help you find it”. In kind the woman responds, “you have lost something…you’ve lost your life” after which the ominous echo of a gunshot can be heard before the album trails into the first track “DNA”. This intro has a shrewdly symbolic bent, and like most symbols can likely be interpreted in several ways. But, given the socially conscious range of Kendrick’s lyricism, it wouldn’t be a stretch to theorize that Kendrick’s attempt at helping the blind woman (in this case the symbol of justice) find something (finding “her” soul, or conscious maybe?) is somehow a figurative representation of the historic and often thwarted attempts of Black America to do the same for the country at large. Or maybe the shot heard in the intro’s finale illustrates the violence placed upon the body, mind, and spirt at such attempts. In any event, Kendrick leaves a cleverly carved space for which the listener can fill in the intro’s blanks before being ushered into the meat of the album beginning with the aforementioned title track “DNA”.

It is on this track that we are forcefully reminded of what makes him great…his sheer adeptness at shredding a track to pieces with crafty lyrical dexterity. He then goes on to blend that which makes him great with that which makes him and ultimately us, human; “I got power, poison, pain and joy inside my DNA/I got hustle though/ambition flow inside my DNA”. This duality is ultimately a part of the human experience but is particularly acute within the realm of Blackness wherein resides the DuBoisian concept of the double consciousness. It is this concept of being both Black (African) and “American” that has simultaneously served as our biggest psychic burden and has allowed us to adapt creatively to circumstances in such a way as to make improvisation one of the signifying markers of Blackness. Thus, Kendrick acknowledges that not only is it in his DNA but in all of ours through that ever-elusive Black genetic marker known as soul or ‘cool’. The following song entitled “YAH” is a slow-paced track in which the image of an isolated star comes to mind, it’s a near dreamlike state in which one awakes to the amalgams of distorted “advice” and rumors from all sides. Cornered he finds that his proverbial “radars is buzzing” with the white noise so often accompanied with fame, he laments from the outset: “I got so many theories and suspicions/I’m diagnosed with real nigga conditions”. He then harps on the signals he receives in everyone from his mother who thinks he will “work himself to death”, to his girlfriend who reminds him “not to let these hoes get his head”. One gets the feeling that being famous has a way of rendering a person worn at the emotional seams from being pulled in multiple directions in an already fast paced world. And as if that isn’t enough, Kendrick then alludes to FOX News’s misinformed critiques of his lyrics (particularly Geraldo Rivera), this while simultaneously seeking clarity via a renewed sense of identity as a Hebrew Israelite a path suggested by a distant cousin eluded to in recorded phone calls throughout the album. The latter path isn’t one atypical of the African American search for identity as it is well documented about myriad of Black socio-political/religious movements that sprang up during the earlier half of 20th century, many of which adopted a nationalistic posture in defense of community and against injustice. However, Kendrick does offer us a glimpse in to what he considers the silver lining of normalcy in it all, his niece who simply sees him as “Uncle Kendrick”. The ensuing track “ELEMENT” could be best described as a Molotov cocktail of witty lyricism, signature hip hop braggadocio and anxiety. After all he opens by stating: “I’m willing to die for this shit/I done cried for this shit/might take a life for this shit/put the Bible down and go eye for an eye for this shit”. Certainly, no one even vaguely familiar with the lyrical elements and strident nature of hip hop verse wouldn’t consider Kendrick “violent” for such an opening line. Rather it reveals the crossroads that one finds themselves at when coping with the pressures of relatively new found fame and the contradiction between wanting to hold dear to what one has worked so hard for, despite whatever could potentially come about. Such is the nature of success and particularly Black success in America which often tends to be linked to surviving extraordinary circumstances to attain status. Said status achievements are then even more guarded with hubris, and sometimes a paranoid anxiety based in fear and mistrust best summed up by Kendrick with the line: “we ain’t going back to broke/family selling dope”. However, in the hook he dually reminds himself not to be taken out of his element given this fear. “FEEL”, the succeeding track opens in a whisper woven into instrumental through which Kendrick and a female voice can be heard repeatedly saying “ain’t nobody praying for me”. Here he comes off on the production as an embattled MC’s withering internally from the demands and misunderstandings of the world around him. Even mentioning the false sense of security yielded from a celebrity that has compounded many of the life’s difficulties. Kendrick feels intensely, yet these feelings about the toxicity level of a rap world in which he dominates are balanced by his own feelings of confidence about his standing in the hip hop world. It’s a theme that has often been explored in depth with childhood celebrity and in spaces outside of hip hop’s mainstream where it is speculated that the pressure to adapt to life in celebrity has led to many a down fall. Hip hop has often been categorized as distinctly different however given the genre’s braggadocios nature, and it is often assumed that since most rappers from starkly humble beginnings fame and fortune serves as not only an antidote, but as a permanent source of material. Kendrick shatters this myth, while simultaneously acknowledging his new-found wealth and celebrity he also considers what’s happening in the world around him as akin to apocalypse where for everyone else “nothing is awkward”. The legendary Nas once stated, “in the land of the blind the man with one eye is the king” and Kendrick heavily tuned into seeing this through the maze of confusion that is fame with all of its participants: “the feelin' of an apocalypse happenin', but nothin' is awkward/the feelin' won't prosper/the feelin' is toxic/I feel like I'm boxin' demons, monsters/false prophets schemin', sponsors, industry promises/niggas, bitches, honkies, crackers, Compton/Church, religion, token blacks, and bondage/Lawsuit visits, subpoena served in concert/fuck your feelings, I mean this for imposters”.

Yet and still, irrespective of these predicaments and more, his sentiment is best condensed in the hook, “ain’t nobody praying for me”... heavy indeed is the head that wears the crown. “LOYALTY” is a track that could best be described as having the components of a future radio single with a classic west coast sound. It’s slow paced and laid back roll out serves as perfect fodder for Kenny’s semi-automatic style flow in which he questions the loyalty of females particularly those near and around the industry. He quips sarcastically, “you caught me at the right time/when it’s dollar signs”. This track featuring Rihanna is a perfect match as she matches the tempo of Kendrick and weaves lyrics that question the nature of a man’s loyalty. Is loyalty merely driven by your convenience to others (family, friends, etc) or is there something deeper? This is question that is faced when one encounter’s extraordinary levels of fame and even more when one is Black and successful, as most Black wealth when such is achieved is often first generational, thrusting one into the role of provider for nearly every family member. This has an adverse effect of blurring the lines of what is considered loyalty. “PRIDE” illustrates a conflict of possessions and purity. Honest enough to acknowledge that his what is often perceived as his persuasion to social consciousness doesn’t make him perfect, he poses a question throughout the length of the track that can be best summed up at the top of the songs opening: “hell-raising, wheel-chasing, new worldly possessions/flesh-making, spirit breaking, which one would you lessen?/the better part, the human heart, you love 'em or dissect 'em/happiness or flashiness? how do you serve the question?/see, in the perfect world, I would be perfect, world/I don't trust people enough beyond they surface, world/I don't love people enough to put my faith in man/I put my faith in these lyrics hoping I make a band, I understand/I ain't perfect”.

In a sense, Kendrick can be found attempting to explain the complexity of human life and the peculiar effect that certain responsibilities have on others perception of you. Fighting internally, one must at times ground themselves or find external ways to do so by reminding those with these expectations of their humanity and flaws, and how those flaws were created. “HUMBLE” the album’s first commercial cut is yet another exercise in lyrical prowess and genius arrangement. Ironically the track is boastful as we are reminded why he is indeed the greatest at press time. It’s lock and step with hip hop’s confidence idiom but not without reminding us from whence Lamar came: “Aye, I remember syrup sandwiches and crime allowances/Finesse a nigga with sum counterfeits/But now I'm countin this/Parmesan where my accountant lives in fact I'm down at this/D'usśe with my boo bae, tastes like kool aid for the analysts”. The end of “HUMBLE” takes us back into the depths of Kendrick’s social analysis with on the succeeding track “LUST”. Much like his theoretical predecessor Richard Wright, Kendrick is more than apt at pointing out with stunning quality the ways in which we as a people often get in the way of our own progress through behaviors that have seemingly become second nature. The first two verses shepherd the listener through the inner sanctum of two parallel lives one male, the other female, engaged in the daily routines of selfish instant gratification. Such a signifier has been considered among one of the many negative elements of Americanism, the desire for immediate pleasures and whims without regard for long term consequences.  And given that the Black experience is inextricable in many ways from the American experience at large, this trait has been considered among one of the most damaging. This is a line of thought most often commercially associated with Black nationalist types who espouse industry over frivolity, but which is shared among Black movements of all theoretical types to some degree or another. It’s clear to peep the knowledge of Kendrick through the examples of these two narratives. However, he again drives home the point that he’s not merely critiquing society from a lofty and self-appointed perch, rather he draws from personal experience to reflect on his entanglement in the same web: “I wake in the mornin', my head spinnin' from the last night/both in the trance, feelings I did-what a fast life!/manager called, the lobby called, it's 11: 30/did this before, promised myself I'd be a hour early/room full of clothes, bag full of money: call it loose change/fumbled my jewelry, 100k, I lost a new chain/Hop on the bird, hit the next city for another M/take me a nap and do it again/we all woke up, tryna tune to the daily news/lookin' for confirmation, hopin' election wasn't true/all of us worried, all of us buried, and our feeling's deep/none of us married to his proposal, make us feel cheap/still and sad, distraught and mad, tell the neighbor 'bout it/bet they agree, parade the streets with your voice proudly/time passin', things change/revertin' back to our daily programs, stuck in our ways; lust”. It’s at once a song of frustration with the perpetual cycle of society’s failure to learn from its errors and the absurd notion that even in learning we tend to repeat them, leading to an inner contention that rivals suffering itself. “LOVE” is the ensuing 10th song on an album that if it had ended here would still deserved to be deemed an instant classic. This poem’s sequence on the album however is more like the metrical version of seeing Kendrick relax and take a calming breath of air, this induced only by thoughts and reflections on the meaning of a special someone that he’s been in a long term low profile relationship with. While much of “DAMN” up until this point tends to be about the perils of success the song evokes the duality of its privileges, but only when there is someone to share them with. Not only this, it’s a light track that once again acknowledges the good in a mad world and lightens the album’s genius yet dense subject matters. “XXX” is one of Kendrick Lamar’s most stinging feats of rhetorical prowess in which he connects the dots between what’s often posited as “inner city violence” or rather “Black on Black” violence and America’s role in fostering such environments. Tackling the humanity of anger is yet another narrative of this track wherein upon the murder of a friend’s son he’s contacted by the friend for advice. Hoping for Kendrick to serve as his better half under what could only be described as a parent’s worst nightmare, Kendrick finds himself unable to tap into the loftier spiritual expectations placed upon him, a portion of the verse summarizes this interaction: “yesterday I got a call like from my dog like 101/said they killed his only son because of insufficient funds/he was sobbin', he was mobbin', way belligerent and drunk/talkin' out his head, philosphin' on what the Lord had done/He said: "K-Dot, can you pray for me?/It's been a fucked up day for me/I know that you anointed, show me how to overcome."/he was lookin' for some closure/hopin' I could bring him closer/to the spiritual, my spirit do know better, but I told him/"I can't sugarcoat the answer for you, this is how I feel:/if somebody kill my son, that mean somebody gettin' killed."

One is taken back to the title of his sophomore album “good kid, M.A.D.D. city” and reminded of Kendrick’s Compton, California origins where like so many systematically deprived Black areas, violence is commonplace. But Kenny makes it perfectly clear that this dysfunction isn’t mere osmosis when he states within the last verse (among other barbs): “it's nasty when you set us up/then roll the dice, then bet us up/you overnight the big rifles, then tell Fox to be scared of us/gang members or terrorists, et cetera, et cetera/America's reflections of me, that's what a mirror does”, this statement is made even more superb given the fact that in a country that often embraces the right of white males to arms, people with color and arms are framed as particularly dangerous. Nonetheless the testament track and most Richard Wright-esque work on the album just may be “FEAR”, which delivers an apt description of the trait (other than coolness, spirituality, and improvisation) that so often finds itself expressed in Black behavioral patterns. It opens with a recorded call from Kendrick’s cousin Carl Duckworth a seemingly zealous follower of Old Testament Biblical religion, who we later learn is a possible member of the Hebrew Israelites, a nationalist Judeo African American religious movement. The phone call appears to be in response to a Kendrick that may well be falling victim to an inner crisis, one for which he feels no one has the answer to. At one point on the call Carl harps back to Kendrick’s lament: “I know you been having a lot on your mind you know, like you feel like, you know, people ain’t been praying for you”. He then goes into a spiel that is among the myriad of socio-religious identity theories of found among Black versions of all schools of religion, but especially those born in the states. Carl in part attempts to explain Kendrick’s confusion by attesting to our cursed nature utilizing a verse from Deuteronomy 28: 28. This track’s opening then questions God himself “why God why God do I gotta suffer/pain in my heart carry burdens full of struggle”, before launching into a full-fledged verse in which Kendrick appears to describe abuse or the threat of it, often doled out at the hands of some Black parents (in this case appears to elude to a Black single mother) for the least of infractions. There’s a direct parallel that exist here between the work of Richard Wright and Kendrick Lamar. In “Black Boy”, an overall narrative that runs through much of the text is the domestic corporal punishment that Richard almost always seems to be threatened by. This is particularly acute as it pertains to his maternal grandmother and “Aunt Addie”, strict Seventh Day Adventist who so controlled by a “puritan” religion and the southern “custom” of Black fear of white retribution for Black “misbehavior” that they practically attempt at every turn to “beat out” what to them appears to be a young Richard’s staunch independence. As a result, Wright finds himself trapped between a racist and unforgiving white world and a Black world whose response to the white world is one driven by fear and its own form of “for your own good” oppression and other responsive madness. This kept Wright in a constant state of fear of not only the outside world but what was supposed to be the intimate familial space. This sentiment is echoed on the first verse of Kendrick Lamar’s “fear”. The second verse tackles the fragility of Black life in which activities that would otherwise be harmless, could lead to possible death. It’s a peek into what so often appears to be the randomness of violence in poor Black neighborhoods and the added burden that comes with attempting to navigate a hostile larger world in the microcosm of one’s own community. In the last verse, Kendrick goes into the irony of fame. While the sentiments of American late capitalist types would have us believe that fame and fortune are the only antidotes to poverty and lacking, we are reminded that for those of us who are able to make the transition from the proverbial “rags to riches” it is not always so simple. Kendrick’s new found fame is explored in the last verse as juxtaposed to the poverty from which he came and this has the effect of evoking a new type of fear…the fear of losing it all. It’s in this verse that one can also see where much of his anxiety stems from. The worlds of money and celebrity are riddled with tales of those who have succumbed to its shark infested waters only to return to the places and madness from which they were thought to have escaped. It’s a preoccupation that has seemingly driven Kendrick to the brink at times and it is in part his reason for reaching out to his cousin Carl, who in the swirl of all the madness appears to be a guiding spiritual voice. At the end of the last verse Kendrick’s confusion is summed up in a haunting refrain: “Goddamn you/Goddamn me/Goddamn us/Goddamn we/Goddamn us all. Afterwards, yet another recorded phone call from Kendrick’s cousin Carl can be heard in which he can be heard spinning a somewhat confusing logic on the “curse” of Blackness stating this time: “So, until we come back to these commandments, until you come back to these commandments, we're gonna feel this way, we're gonna be under this curse. Because he said he's gonna punish us, the so-called Blacks, Hispanics, and Native American Indians, are the true children of Israel. We are the Israelites according to the Bible. The children of Israel, he's gonna punish us for our iniquities, for our disobedience, because we chose to follow other gods that aren't his son, so the Lord, thy God, chasten thee. So, just like you chasten your own son, he's gonna chastise you because he loves you. So that's why we get chastised, that's why we're in the position we're in. Until we come back to these laws, statutes and commandments, and do what the Lord said, these curses are gonna be upon us. We're gonna be at a lower state in this life that we live here in today, in the United States of America. I love you, son, and I pray for you. God, bless you, shalom”.

To be sure pointing out this religious sentiment of Carl’s is not a dig at his religion or beliefs, however within the context of the Black experience in America, it is important to recognize the myriad of systems on the spectrum of Black religion. Historically speaking, religion has served as a guiding light for Blacks, a political tool, and an explanatory narrative of systemic racism. In this way theories of the Black station in American life can at times become varied and confusing from the outside looking in, and one gets the feeling that Carl himself while appearing zealously coherent in Hebrew Israelite doctrine, is just one of the millions of Blacks in America seeking answers to the madness. Appropriately, the following track entitled “GOD” can be looked at from either one of two angles. One the one hand one could interpret this as typical hip hop theatrics of boastfulness, the type wherein the celebratory nature of making it can render one seemingly invincible to at least one’s former woes. Yet everything Kendrick touches seems to hint at deeper meaning, and “GOD” may just as easily be in step with the meeting of the secular and the spiritual. It has often been stated that some are made but the greats are chosen, and on this track, there is full embrace of the latter as he reflects on from whence he came and where he has arrived. It also should not escape the listener that proclaiming oneself as “god” incarnate is not a new religious theory and in hip hop was proselytized by adherents to 5% Islam better known as The Nation of Gods and Earths. The message is context can then be seen as Kendrick reminding us that like him we too can embody gods and goddesses on earth.

“DUCKWORTH” the final track of this album gives a previously unknown glimpse into Kendrick’s origins and the genesis of his relationship with TDE (Top Dawg Entertainment). Known for not only his lyrical prowess but his somewhat guarded nature as it pertains to his personal life, we find that the origins of Kendrick’s relationship began long before he was scouted by Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith as a 15-year-old mixtape rapper. It was in-fact a near fatal encounter between the then street hood Tiffith and Kendrick’s father Kenny Duckworth in the 80′s that brought the pair together when Lamar was but a child. Kenny, a Chicago native, relocated to Compton, CA where he too brought his street savvy with him splitting time between hustling and working part time at a KFC across from the infamous Nickerson Garden homes, a blood gang territory and home to the hustling and banging Tiffith. A chance encounter between Kendrick’s father and Tiffith at the fast food spot led to a relationship that was at first born out of Kenny’s savvy in recognizing the street status of Tiffith and his crew, who had previously robbed the restaurant, shooting two people in the process. Little did Kenny aka “Ducky” know that the crew was planning to rob the store again and this time willing to take out Ducky if necessary. However, Tiffith took a liking to Ducky and this led to a relationship that would re-manifest years later when the two would bump into each other at a recording studio. By this time, Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith would be managing producers and scouting talent and one such talent would be Ducky’s son, Kendrick Lamar Duckworth. The genius of the track is in a sense admittedly overshadowed by the listener’s interest in the story itself, yet the vivid tale of chance and choices are obvious throughout. “DUCKWORTH” is the proverbial slam dunk ending on an album which at its core is about the duality and absurd complexity of the human condition and more specifically when it’s in Black. While there may be some who will tout “DAMN” as only an album fraught with anxiety, confusion, and introspection, the final track is a testament that in the madness of it all silver linings guided by divine hands still exist. Classic.

[rolandfontana]

Rap on Trial: How an Art Form Became a Courtroom Weapon

Since at least the early 1990s, rap music lyrics have been used in criminal courtrooms as evidence in cases of violence, usually involving young people of color. In a new book, Rap on Trial: Race, Lyrics and Guilt in America, Erik Nielson and Andrea Dennis warn that this has played into stereotypes about race, intelligence and creativity, particularly for justice-involved African Americans and Latinx individuals.

In a conversation with The Crime Report, Nielsen, an associate professor at the University of Richmond, and Dennis, a former assistant federal public defender who holds the John Byrd Martin Chair of Law at the University of Georgia School of Law, trace how a genre-changing vehicle of expression created largely by African-American youth has been used as a courtroom weapon against them.

The transcript has been edited and condensed for clarity.

The Crime Report: What prompted both of you to collaborate on this book?

Erik Nielson: In about 2011 or 2012, I started seeing cases involving rap lyrics as evidence. My academic focus has always been black art and its relationship with the law in the United States As I started looking into it, I realized it wasn’t a few isolated cases that I was seeing in the mainstream media, but that this was something more pervasive. As I started digging, I stumbled across a law review article that Andrea had had published in 2007 [about the topic]. I was surprised no one was making a big deal out of it. I reached out to her for an interview, and, we’ve been collaborating off and on since then, since 2012.

Andrea Dennis: I was at the University of Kentucky College of Law when a colleague mentioned a criminal trial that was ongoing in the Lexington, Ky., courthouse. It was a case of a young, aspiring rapper who had allegedly shot and killed a music store clerk with whom he had been familiar. The prosecutor was seeking to use lyrics that the defendant had written to paint a portrait of him as a killer. Earlier, when I had been in federal criminal defense practice, a colleague of mine had a homicide case in which his client was an aspiring rapper. [We were concerned] that after a search of the client’s vehicle turned up a rap CD that he had created, the prosecutor was going to try to use this as evidence of his guilt. That case was ultimately resolved without a trial. At the time I thought these were isolated examples.

But as I began to look around I found [using a rapper’s lyrics in a courtroom] was an ongoing phenomenon. I had identified a number of issues in the article that were not addressed, and once we began to see a large number of cases we were able to [raise questions] such as the role of the First Amendment, and unconscious bias.

TCR: How has the use of rap lyrics in courtrooms evolved over the past several years?

Erik Nielsen

Nielsen: In many of these earlier cases handwritten lyrics in the back of somebody’s car were used as evidence, but social media expanded that dramatically. Very few of the cases now involve written lyrics or lyrics recorded on some sort of physical medium. So In addition to allowing for the widespread dissemination of this music for aspiring artists, which is a good thing for them because there are no barriers to entry and you can try to build a fan base, [social media] meant that police could start monitoring this type of activity with very little effort. Spending hours just going through all of these social media posts looking for crimes, or future crimes, or whatever they described it as.

 TCR: You mentioned about midway through the book that there were 500 cases, but an exact number is hard to establish. How has the examination of rap lyrics in courthouse settings become a nationwide practice?

Nielsen: Don’t underestimate the communication among prosecutors nationwide. That is something that I have seen firsthand. Early cases going back to around early 1990 or so were successful; in many instances, they became impervious to appeal in many cases. So it became a widespread practice, thanks partly to other people seeing this as a successful prosecution.

Dennis: That’s absolutely right. The prosecutorial network, in terms of training and informal word of mouth, is vital to this sort of nationwide transmission and it was happening both at the state and federal levels. Law enforcement also began to be more aware of how to use rap lyrics as evidence in gang crime cases.

TCR: What has been the impact of turning hip hop from a vehicle to combat poverty and violence into a basis for courtroom evidence?

Nielsen: That’s one of the things that we are particularly concerned about. We know that, in many of these communities, including the earliest where hip-hop evolved, there are limited opportunities for upward mobility. And although I don’t know that anyone could have predicted it hip hop opened up an entirely new space, not just for individual rappers, but in terms of sound production, music production, advertising, apparel. It’s now a multi-billion-dollar industry that grew largely because of mainstream, white American demand for hip hop. There’s a certain irony and cruelty to all of this. [Rap] demands specific kinds of content, at least for those who create violent, sometimes sexually explicit lyrics. And then, when these young men [use it] we slam the door on them. Using those lyrics as evidence feels like a trap, especially given the positive impact of hip hop on communities across the country.

It’s another example of white American society embracing a cultural creation by the black community while demonizing the people who engage in it.

Dennis: You can also add the artistic and the social aspect. Putting aside the economics, it is another instance in which white American society, has embraced a cultural creation by the black community and yet also demonizes the black community for engaging in it. There are many who have embraced hip hop as a form of therapy, hip hop as a form of rehabilitation, hip-hop as a form of expressing one’s emotional concern. And you see this in community programs, you see it in schools, you see it nationwide; and yet, if you try and use it to articulate angry feelings or complicated feelings, then you are also punished for it.

TCR: Do you think rap’s use in the courtroom will start to diminish?

Nielsen: It’s an easy sell [to a judge or jury] because rap music reinforces stereotypes about young men of color held by many people within the criminal justice system and American society more broadly have: stereotypes of hyper violence, hypersexuality. What’s more, it’s told in the first person, so it speaks to what people on a jury are already thinking when the defendant enters the room. That makes it very easy for prosecutors to secure convictions even if other evidence in the case is weak. The question about whether it will change is tricky. Rap is now the most listened-to genre in the country. Will that mean stereotypes about rap music and the people who created have changed have softened in any way? You would think that as rap has become mainstream, there would be greater tolerance of it. But instead we’re seeing that it is being used in courtrooms more, not less. We suspect that it’s in part due to the idea that there are people in America who feel surrounded by it now, and they’re not happy about it. And so its success has led to a different kind of response, but an equally sort of fearful and angry one.

Andrea Dennis

Dennis: I want to add one more stereotype which I think is important—that black people in general, and in particular young black, young Latino men, are not very bright. So their creative abilities are limited to merely painting or depicting literally what their life experiences are. There’s no metaphor, there’s no collective knowledge. In other words, most of these guys are not Jay-Z. Jay-Z is a genius, Kendrick Lamar is a genius. But these other guys, who aren’t famous or only famous locally, are not considered sophisticated artists, so they must be telling an autobiographical event. I hope (our book) dispels some of the stereotypes of the art form, especially among people who are not already super-familiar with it.

Nielsen: We have a quote in the book from a Newport News (Virginia) gang detective who says “these guys aren’t the brightest; It’s easier just for them to [record] what’s right around them.”

Dennis: This book may not change minds [across the justice system], but we’re hoping that it will convince young people that they have some power to change the system. If they end up on a jury or if they’re voting for a prosecutor or judge, they can make some very thoughtful decisions about who they want as significant players in our criminal justice.

TCR: When, if ever, should rap lyrics be permissible in court?

Dennis: If you had asked me years ago… I’m the lawyer, I take the moderate approach, and I would have said sometimes, when in particular, the lyrics are idiosyncratic and by that I mean that the alleged crime is of such a particular nature that anyone who’s talking about the crime would have knowledge about the crime, so you can sort of match the lyrics to the alleged event fairly closely. In those circumstances, maybe—if you can demonstrate those idiosyncrasies—[it’s usable]. But the court needs to be sure that the defense has available an expert to offer background information and interpretation. Erik and I have had plenty of conversations and disagreements, [but’ given what we have seen, and given the lack of success of what I thought was a moderated approach, I believe there should be a presumption against admitting these lyrics.

Often you see or hear lyrics that are really generic. You know, “I did a drive-by with a handgun or an AK 45.” But these are very generic representations of violence, which could apply to hundreds of thousands of cases in this country. So the notion that [the defendant] must be talking about some activity that he engaged in should not be presumptively true. He could be talking about generic events that anyone in the community could engage in, or that anyone who is creating lyrics could imagine, based on their own knowledge or experience or what they saw in a movie or television show or read in a newspaper.

Nielsen: I will not say that there is no such thing as a scenario in which rap lyrics might be useful. But I’m not sure I’ve seen that case yet. The only example I would point you to is a Key and Peele sketch about this very issue. And it’s hilarious. I may allow that in that scenario and that one alone, the rap lyrics, maybe, should be permissible. It is absolutely worth 10 or 15 minutes of your time if you YouTube it.

What we do know is that rap lyrics, their conventions, are such that they are largely fictional. They rely on figurative language, on exaggeration, on larger-than-life characters.

I’m not sure how useful that kind of evidence is to begin with. But what we do know from research is that when people are exposed to it, they have visceral responses that are very powerful. And I would be concerned that when you bring rap lyrics into a criminal case, the visceral response it triggers in jurors, is powerful, often too powerful. I would much rather see police and prosecutors spend their time collecting actual evidence. Our court system would be better if we didn’t allow [rap lyrics in the courtroom].

Lauren Sonnenberg is a TCR contributing writer. Readers’ comments are welcome.

Rap on Trial: How an Art Form Became a Courtroom Weapon syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[mystlnewsonline]

New Post has been published on https://www.stl.news/kendrick-lamar-is-king-grammys-far-5-wins/76355/

Kendrick Lamar is king of Grammys, so far, with 5 wins

NEW YORK/January 28, 2018 (AP)(STL.News) —Kendrick Lamar is the king of the Grammy Awards — so far — picking up five awards in the first hour of the big show.

Lamar won best rap album for “DAMN.” and best rap/sung performance for “Loyalty,” with Rihanna, during the live telecast at Madison Square Garden in New York City.

“This is special man. I got a lot of guys in this building that I still idolize today,” said Lamar, naming Jay-Z, Nas and Diddy as inspirations.

At the end, Lamar closed with: “Jay for president.”

In the pre-telecast, Lamar won best rap song, best rap performance and best music video for “HUMBLE.”

Lamar, nominated for seven awards, kicked off the Grammys with a powerful and poignant performance featuring video screens displaying a waving American flag behind him, as background dancers dressed as army soldiers marched and moved behind. He was joined Sunday by U2’s Bono and The Edge, and also Dave Chappelle — who told jokes in between Lamar’s performance.

At one point, Lamar’s background dancers, dressed in red, were shot down as he rapped lyrics, later coming back to life as fire burst to end the six-minute performance.

Lamar and Mars walked into Grammy Awards with multiple wins, putting them as favorites for top awards like album and record of the year.

Mars won best R&B album, best R&B performance and best R&B song in the pre-telecast. Posthumous Grammys were also handed out to actress Carrie Fisher, singer Leonard Cohen and engineer Tom Coyne, who worked on Mars’ “24K Magic” album.

A shaking Alessia Cara won best new artist, winning over SZA, Julia Michaels, Khalid and Lil Uzi Vert.

“Thank you to my parents and my brother for believing in me,” she said, also urging the crowd to “support real music and real artists because everyone deserves the same shot.”

Double winners included Jason Isbell, Justin Hurwitz, CeCe Winans and Chris Stapleton.

“This is unbelievable,” Stapleton said onstage.

The Rolling Stones picked up the third Grammy of their career — for best traditional blues album for “Blue & Lonesome,” while Ed Sheeran won best pop vocal album. Emmy and Golden Globe winner Childish Gambino, who picked up best traditional R&B performance, gave a smooth and sultry performance in all-white featuring screeching high notes. Gambino was joined by a young teen who matched his vocals.

Little Big Town, who sang their Taylor Swift-penned No. 1 hit “Better Man,” also won best country duo/group performance with the song. Lady Gaga won over the audience with a rousing performance of the songs “Joanne” and “Million Reasons,” while Sam Smith gave a powerful performance of the song “Pray

The Weeknd, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Reba McEntire, LCD Soundsystem, Portugal the Man and Shakira also won early awards. Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, both Oscar and Tony winners, won best musical theater album for “Dear Evan Hansen,” shared with Tony winner Ben Platt.

Lamar beat out Jay-Z for the five awards he won. Either artist could make history and become the first rapper to win record of the year and the third to win album of the year. And the Grammys are almost guaranteeing that this year will be historic: Four of the five album of the year nominees are rap and R&B-based albums from black or Latino artists. The other big awards of the night — song and record of the year — also are dominated by hip-hop, R&B and Latin music.

It comes a year after The Recording Academy was heavily criticized when Adele won album of the year over Beyonce. “Lemonade” was seen as an album that moved the needle and dominated pop culture in different ways than Adele’s colossal sales. Critics felt the Academy failed to recognize the creative and artistic elements of an R&B-based album, in the same ways they have passed over albums by Kanye West, Eminem and Mariah Carey over the years for projects by rock, country and jazz artists.

Jay-Z is the star of Sunday’s show, leading with eight nominations, including album for the year for his revealing “4:44,” song of the year for the title track and record of the year for “The Story of O.J.” Mars also is nominated for the big three; “Despacito,” by Luis Fonsi, Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber, is up for record and song of the year; and both Lamar and Gambino are nominated for album and record of the year.

“What you see in nominations is a reflection of the voting membership of the Academy. You have to remember that this is a peer award and it’s unique in that way. It’s not about sales or charts or popularity or fan votes or whatever, it’s the professionals in the industry who are making the judgment,” Recording Academy CEO Neil Portnow said in an interview with The Associated Press. “So when you look at the work that’s been done, and Jay would be one example, and there’s that level of excellence, we have a very sophisticated voting membership that is able to recognize that. And that’s how we want it to be.”

However, Lorde’s critically acclaimed sophomore album, “Melodrama,” still has a strong chance in the album of the year category. And Julia Michaels, a talented songwriter who has written hits for Bieber and Selena Gomez, is nominated for song of the year for her single, “Issues.”

Performers include Mars with Cardi B, Lady Gaga, Pink, Gambino, Emmylou Harris and Chris Stapleton, Elton John and Miley Cyrus, Rihanna with DJ Khaled and Bryson Tiller, Sting and SZA, the most nominated female act with five.

The night also will feature some serious moments. Earlier this week, key music executives called on artists and employees to wear a white rose at the Grammys in support of Time’s Up and #MeToo, the movements against sexual abuse and harassment. Singers Halsey and Dua Lipa, as well as Grammy-nominated rapper Rapsody, were some of the first to say they would wear white roses.

Kesha, who earned her first pair of Grammy nominations for an album reflecting her battle with former producer and mentor Dr. Luke, will honor victims during her performance. Maren Morris, Eric Church and Brothers Osborne, who were performers at the Route 91 Harvest Festival in Las Vegas where a gunman opened fire on fans, killing 58 and injuring hundreds more, will honor victims killed at live music events this past year onstage. And Patti LuPone and Ben Platt will pay tribute to Broadway as the Grammys return to New York City after 15 years for its 60th anniversary.

The Grammys is airing live from Madison Square Garden at 8 p.m. EST on CBS.

____

By MESFIN FEKADU, AP Music Writer, by Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (Z.S)

____

[joshuazev]

On arbitrariness...yes, that’s a word; I was gonna say arbitration, but the whole arbitrator thing didn’t fit with the theme:

Sometimes its easier to think about a day by starting from the day’s end.  As I near the completion of this pretty solid Wednesday I think of the train ride home, which was spent dozing in and out of sleep listening to my first audiobook (it was free).  One of my friends told me about this app called “Audible” (under the Amazon umbrella, sorry Dad) that was offering a promotion where a new subscriber could get two free downloads.  I’m not super inclined to listen to an audiobook because the only time I feel that I could really focus and appreciate one is on a long road trip or something and since I haven’t taken many road trips out here in New York, the opportunities are scarce.  Besides, if I was in a slightly relaxed situation which could also serve as an audiobook opportunity I would rather spend that time reading the actual book.  So, I’m heading back from work, tired, and listening to Kevin Hart’s “I Can’t Make This Up” his first comedic, autobiographical “Rock This” and “SeinLanguage” type of release.  I think as far as audiobooks go this was a perfect opportunity to try it out because you can actually hear Kevin Hart’s voice.  Now some people might see that as a turn off, but I’d rather listen to the authentic version than try to hear it in my head when I’m reading it.  Maybe the only turn off for me is that the audiobook is eleven hours long!  Jesus.  I could probably read the book five times in that time span.  Whatever, though.  It’s been a fun listen so far.  Let’s be real, I’ll probably delete it after the second free download.  I got too much loyalty to my father (who might be the most anti-Amazon person that I know) and too much loyalty to the action of reading.

…

Kendrick Lamar, one of the most popular mainstream rappers at the moment, was in Seattle yesterday and was roaming around Capitol Hill to be present at his pop-up shop at “Alive & Well” before his show at the Tacoma Dome.  I find it pretty awesome that someone has big as he is still chooses to be humble and be accessible to the public and his huge fanbase.  I saw clips of his show (again, a packed show at Tacoma Dome) and was pretty impressed with the presentation.  You don’t see people like him nowadays.  Making the rounds in the city to show his face and then subsequently turn up thousands for a packed building.  Props to Kendrick.  I’m not the biggest fan of his music (I’m not a hater), but I’ve grown to respect him more and more over the years.  For the longest time I had trouble deciphering his lyrics and after every album he’d release I felt more and more lost in the abyss as his fame grew.  Now, even though I’m still not completely on the same page, I’m drawn to his artistry.  His live performances are always exceptional (TV performances in particular) and his interviews are engaging and thought-provoking.  Sometimes it bothers me when the hip-hop fans of the world pit his legacy and his standing against that of other greats before him, but in this industry those comparisons are inevitable no matter how true or untrue they may or may not be.  He seems to rise above the comparisons and live his life doing his own thing.  I got a lot of respect for someone like that.  

…  

I just ate a nectarine, apple, orange, some cherries, some raspberries, some blueberries, some strawberries and some grapes.  I don’t remember ever learning in school or even from my parents that eating a lot of fruit might be bad for you.  I used to have a fruit plate every night before going to sleep.  I mean, it’s fruit.  It’s not candy.  I think there’s gotta be a fruit limit though.  Even in fruit salads: no more than four fruits allowed.  I just ate eight.  I don’t feel sick to my stomach, but I’m worried that maybe I shouldn’t have done that.  I think having eight fruits available to me might be to lavish anyway.  Maybe I don’t need eight.  Maybe four is enough.  Get the basics, the apples, the oranges, the bananas, and then one special one, like the cherries.  And I had a banana today!  That’s nine fruits.  I’m gonna have to look up what each fruit provides.  I know bananas have lots of potassium and oranges have Vitamin C.  I wonder what cherries provide.  This is a post, so I’ll keep the child talk at a minimum, but you already know.

…

I was thinking that changing up the dress code to work would be nice sometimes, especially in the summer.  Is the only reason we can’t go to work without a shirt on or a sports bra (for the ladies) because at a gym if everyone was walking around like that there is a higher chance of MRSA spreading?  I might be crazy, but sometimes it’s just nice to remove the top half and feel free (remove a layer for the ladies).  Maybe it’s the cabin fever of working in a basement gym.  Sometimes you just wanna act out and feel like you’re outside.  You know what working down there feels like?  Working at a gym with no windows is like being trapped in the first half of that movie “Room” and even in “Room” they got a window looking outside!  You got to see the other side and try to understand an isolated person’s perspective.  Can’t be too surprised when someone acts out.  It’s always for a reason.  And quick disclaimer: I’m not gonna do anything stupid, I’m just stating facts.

…

Candid moment:  I’m starting to think that going through the motions and the thought process of wondering the best way to ask a girl out is not only the wrong way to go, but just a pure pressure cooker.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to practice patience, but I’m beginning to learn that the time is never right.  Something ALWAYS happens that’ll fuck with the energy and screw up what you had planned.  I think going with the flow is for acting in the moment, not a way of building on a premeditated action.  

…

I spent part of my day today filming a couple of video submissions with two lamps, about sixteen books, and a dysfunctional camera that doesn’t like to focus.  I don’t want to blame the setup, not even if I don’t get the work.  I sometimes wonder whether casting directors and artistic directors sympathize with poorly executed video submissions and close their eyes just so they can hear how the words roll off the tongue.  Maybe that’s a fantasy and just a crazy bit of wishful thinking.  Or maybe I just ate too many fruits.  It’s really hard to tell, sometimes.  

…

To all of those avid readers and loyal followers who wonder if this way of writing my posts will be a “thing” in the future.  It probably won’t.  When I don’t have a theme I just have my thoughts.  Bear with me.

[spaceboitakesflight-blog]

Imagination as Respiration, as Regiment for Pain. Imagination as Fuck it. Imagination as Fire.

Note: This article is much more helpful if you click the links. They range in types of content (articles, research, data, organizations to support) and have a lot of useful information! The majority of bold sections are lyrics from Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star (1998). 

I trust, I hope Philando Castile’s spirit finds rest and justice in the fires lit for him.

Police are pigs, and should be treated as such.

The state arrested 18 protesters in Minnesota after the verdict came out.

The jury was more over 50% middle aged whites.

Bill Cosby rape case ended in mistrial.\ Could be 365 days til re-trail, but they're "pushing it along"... \ And how many white rapists will they let go low-profile in the span of that time? 

Charleena Lyles.

Say: Her name 

How many more cops will go free after committing murder? 

“Every year $9 billion dollars are wasted incarcerating people who've not been convicted of a crime, and insurance companies, who have taken over our bail system, go to the bank.”  

2.3 million people incarcerated. And if you are aware of anything in this country, you already know the racial breakdown.   The state will inflict fear in whatever ways it can. How physically, how psychologically difficult will they make it for any person of color to [fill in the blank].    

How many immigrants detained? How many people (”terrorists”) held in Guantanamo? How many survivors of domestic violence unjustly convicted? How many queer folks, how many trans women of color locked up or killed for existing? 

“Same song, just remixed, different arrangement Put you on a yacht but they won't call it a slave ship Strangeness, you don't control this, you barely hold this Screaming "brand new", when they just sanitized the old shit Suppose it's, just another clever Jedi mind trick”  

Why the fuck should anyone wait for these racist patriarchal systems to magically change, when we could burn it down and start again? How much longer will white people continue to lie to themselves? How much time can be bought, to “hide like thieves in the night from life”?  

This year I worked for a college access organization that serves first generation college students. After one of our weekly tutoring sessions, a visiting tutor asked “how we could have possibly ended up here”--”here” meaning, high school students not being able to pass basic math courses. I said there’s no question, the system is designed for these students to fail... In too many ways to count.   

Colorism: an intentional set of lethal mindgames.

“The paradox of education is precisely this - that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated.” -James Baldwin

Enter the need for critical consciousness.  

amerikkka creates its own twisted history. Writes a false narrative of motion. Spits it down our throats with pat on the back after every swallow. amerikkka stores archives of criminal evidence in its basement. Inconvenient, for gentrification, for the colonization agenda. Perfect for a culture of gas-lighting. Where violence hides behind the innocence of an opinion.  

“Because white men can’t/ police their imagination/ black men are dying.” - Claudia Rankine 

Imagination is deadly. Hence the state’s thirst to monitor and control the ways we think, the concepts we imagine. 

“A lot of people don't understand the true criteria of things Can't just accept the appearance, have to get the true essence”

amerikkka chooses to stay mentally and emotionally disturbed, caught in an abyss of disgusting history, frantically running through the same corporate racist cycles that are killing every good thing on this earth.   

amerikka will do anything to fuck with your head. Will force you to accept shit that is slowly killing you, or quickly killing the people around you, just to make it through another day. It will do anything to brainwash, to separate you from your own body, to wrap you in isolation until the fear of explosion is so great, dying doesn’t seem like a bad option. Suicide among people of color then, is not counted as murder by the state? 

Enter the truth.

“This life is temporary but the soul is eternal Separate the real from the lie, let me learn you”

Put in the work your mind deserves to undo the lies it has been soaked in.

“Yo, I'm sure that everybody out listening agree That everything you see ain't really how it be A lot of jokers out running in place, chasing the style Be a lot going on beneath the empty smile Most cats in my area be loving the hysteria Synthesized surface conceals the interior America, land of opportunity, mirages and camouflages”

I don’t think any of us will see a day of reconciliation and justice in this life. But the idea of freedom fuels revolution. “Freedom” can exist in our minds. It is the act of imagining that makes freedom more readily available in the mind than it can exist among these physical systems of oppression. 

“At exactly which point do you start to realize That (life without knowledge is death in disguise?) That's why, knowledge of self is like life after death”

"I will continue to say murder because where in this planet do you tell the truth and you be honest and you still be murdered by the police of Minnesota?" Valerie Castile asked. 

Every time I see an american flag, i burn it in my imagination. I kill trump in my imagination. shoot him, chop his head off. i feel  nothing but satisfaction. kathy griffith did it, for fake. a photoshoot. a stunt./ they took it for real life/ no fucks about the death toll in his name/

“So much on my mind that I can't recline Blastin' holes in the night 'til she bled sunshine Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline Heard the bass ride out like an ancient mating call I can't take it, y'all, I can feel the city breathing Chest heaving, against the flesh of the evening Sigh before we die like the last train leaving” 

A lot of us are just trying to hold on. Not “go crazy”. Pay bills. Navigate relationships. Survive pain, hurt, trauma, loss. How can we move past survival? 

“Life or death, if I'm choosing with every breath I'm enhancing” 

Taking care of your mental health is important in order to use your mind to your advantage, to build structures of resilience and resistance. Understand what resources you need in order to do the work. Make steps to start the organization you have always dreamed of forming. Write your business plan. Pull the bars of music hiding beneath your chest. Write those poems simmering in your belly. Tag that building or train with your art. Be the teacher, mentor, parent you imagine yourself to be. Be the role model Philando was, and should have had more time to be. 

Free yourself to take productive risks in your efforts to self-sustain. 

Because for real, lets start our own healthcare networks. POC run history archives. POC art galleries. POC therapy centers. Our own economies, our own ways to exchange food and skills. 

Collective revolt calls for collective imagination. No justice, no peace. Do the healing to find your peace. Allow yourself to form community, and ride for that community/chosen family “Who are knowledge, truth, and peace seekers”.

Fight for your imagination and the wonders it feeds you. Preserve your energy. Direct it in places of healing. Talk to your ancestors. Allow yourself days to feel sad and tired. Allow yourself days to feel strong and motivated. Keep trying. 

They will never know where your inspiration comes from. Where your fire originates. They will not understand your ability to keep breathing. to hold the fire in your chest and not burn. to drink water then spit bombs on cop cars. to grieve so hard your body thrashes salt against the walls, then still grow so soft, so centered.

Imagine: create: like your life depends on it.

[afreviews]

Bryson Tiller, ‘True to Self’

by Sadé

Surprise! Bryson Tiller released his sophomore album a month early on May 26th. Two weeks later, here's my review.

I’m randomly listening to Bryson Tiller’s debut album TRAPSOUL, thinking, "Damn, just one more month.” Then with a simple tweet notification, my wishes were granted. We’ve been waiting for this for what seems like forever, and I have a few things to say about True to Self. 

“Trying my best to pull through for you”

The fans-riddled-with-anxiety-highly-antictipated sophomore album is here. It’s been almost two years since his debut and the content released between albums were at best…eh. Not really a sophisticated response, but that was response. People were curious to see how his second album would turn out. While most of us had faith in Bryson, the industry can be a bit tough on sophomore projects. With Bryson, TRAPSOUL was such a big debut that how could he possibly top that? Can he meet the demand? Can he deliver? 

“Put me in check” 

Production from the likes of Teddy Walton, Nes, Swiff D, FrancisGotHeat, WondaGurl, Boi-1da, Ayo The Producer, T-minus and more. The album is filled with samples from the likes of SWV, Tweet, Travis Scott, Changing Faces, Ice Cube, Loopmasters (or you may have thought Kendrick Lamar), Mary J. Blige and more. 

As far the content itself, Bryson's style is all over it. There’s his familiar croons over smooth, hypnotic beats about love with the tracks “Rain On Me (Intro),” “No Longer Friends,” “Don’t Get Too High,” “You Got It,” and “Always (Outro). We go from the loyalty of his baby mother in “Set it Off,” to his one night stand in “We Both Know.” Then back to his crooning over lost love, or just moving on, in the tracks “In Check,” “Teach Me a Lesson,” “Stay Blessed,” “Somethin Tells Me, and “Run Me Dry.” I love that Bryson's more braggadocios in this album with tracks like “Self Made,” “Blowing Smoke,” and “High Stakes.” Then there’s the introspective tracks “Money Problems/Benz Truck,” and “Nevermind This Interlude” where he weighs his issues with fame. Oh let’s not forget his direct confrontation with his haters and his beef with his former manager on the track “Before You Judge.” With this album, we find a more confrontational and outspoken Bryson Tiller. 

At 19 tracks, you can say it’s too long but it’s really just under an hour. This was a strategic move. With streaming taking over, a lot of artists are doing this. More tracks equals more streams which equals better numbers - and it seemed to work. The album debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart, and a few tracks made it on the Hot 100. 

“2016 Tiller on this shit”

Standing next to TRAPSOUL…well it can’t. There’s no stand out singles on the album in the way “Don’t” and “Exchange” did last year. Turn the radio on right now, those tracks are still playing to this day. Although radio isn’t what it used to be, as an artist it doesn’t hurt to get that radio play. I have heard “Self Made” on a couple stations and I can see “In Check” in rotation. This is not to say the radio stations won’t pick up singles from the album but they won’t hold the same impact as TRAPSOUL’s singles made. 

With my first listen, I really didn’t want to compare True to Self to its predecessor - but I did. It was hard not to since it picks up where TRAPSOUL left off. Holding the same cadence, True to Self easily could’ve been the second disk in a deluxe special rerelease of TRAPSOUL. Some tracks are a bit dated, probably recorded shortly after TRAPSOUL. A year and a half doesn’t seem like a long time, but in the music industry it is. 

There is a bit of growth in the writing. There’s much more content and variety than the first album. However, there's not much overall growth as an artist and a lot of fans expected more. 

"What you want from me?"

Bryson faced some criticism for the album. Not everybody was feeling it, including some of his fans. Some said they were “disappointed.” I’m conflicted here. I agree, this is not exactly what I expected, but then I don't know what to expect from Bryson - it’s just his sophomore album. Is it too early for change and artist growth? Or, because this generation of music is so fast paced, should he have already evolved at this point? If that’s the case, True to Self could've been a mixtape (project, playlist, whatever you want to call it) in between the debut and the second album. It could’ve been released last year to hold over fans. 

I think there was just a lot of hype and people expected just way too much from Bryson. Critics and fans alike have been holding him up to PARTYNEXTDOOR, Jeremih, and Tory Lanez. Um, no. I don’t think so. Nothing against Bryson but his catalogue is nowhere near up to par with theirs. What I think people keep forgetting is that this kid is still new to the game. 

When he released TRAPSOUL, I don’t think he expected it to take off the way it did. And boy did it. The hype started off slow then took off. I didn’t actually hear it until late last summer, nearly a year after the album’s release. By that time, Pen Griffey took off. Will his sophomore effort have the same longevity? It’s too early to tell at this point but I don’t think people will dismiss Bryson just yet. 

“Note to self: Stay true to self”

A post shared by pen griffey (@brysontiller) on May 25, 2017 at 9:05pm PDT

With all that said, I like True to Self. I know this is a mixed review, but I'm just stating facts. I think it’s a good album. You see the effort Bryson put into it. This is the music he loves to make. While some were “disappointed” with it, I for sure was feeling it. Some tracks will make it on my "Rainy day" playlist. However, does it top his debut? Not at all, but I think for a sophomore album it did pretty good. Back in 2015, he said his music is “just trap and hip hop-influenced R&B, the perfect marriage between hip hop and R&B.” Starting off as a rapper, I was hoping to see more of that, but Bryson is staying True to Self. The R&B vibe does it for him. He’s found his niche, his pocket, and he’s running with it. That’s him being true to himself and it’s what makes him happy. His real fans will support him. Down the line, I do want to see more from Bryson. We all do as fans of music in general. I think as he grows into his own, we will see more creativity and growth from Pen Griffey. But for now, accept him while he stays True to Self.