#about Vince Guaraldi

[loxtangel]

Vince Guaraldi Biography

William Smallwood Biography, William Smallwood was born in 1831 at Kendal, Westmorland, and baptized in the same year. His mother, Alice, was born in 1800, and William... contunue reading below:...

Vincent Anthony Guaraldi is popularly known as Vince Guaraldi. Guaraldi is a well-known American jazz composer. He’s best in composing music scores for animated television of the Peanuts comic. Vince Guaraldi Biography & Wiki One of his compositions “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” earn the Grammy Award in the year 1963. Vincent Anthony Guaraldi is popularly known as Vince Guaraldi. Guaraldi is a…

[soletyue]

october snapshots // currently playing: Linus and Lucy - Vince Guaraldi

the second month of the semester is almost over, so i only have about a month and a half left in this term. i am both excited and terrified at the idea of almost being halfway through my last year of undergrad. thesis is going well, i am neither behind nor ahead, but the workload is starting to weigh on me. i found myself feeling burned out during midterms, so i took the entirety of my fall break to rest, even if it meant not making much progress. one thing i am working on is setting healthy boundaries with my schoolwork; it's just no longer worth it to stay up until 2 am just to study more or finish a time consuming assignment. a slightly higher grade in a class is not worth jeopardizing my physical and mental health.

i hope your studies are going well ! please make some time to care for yourself !

currently reading:

Tokyo Ueno Station by Yu Miri

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

[laurexlawnn]

HEAR YE HEAR YE, SPOOKY PEOPLE AND STRANGE FREAKS

Do you like- *inhale*

What We Do in the Shadows, Over the Garden Wall, Vintage Halloween, Cryptids, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Universal Monster Movies, Film Photography, the song People Are Strange by The Doors, or want what Morticia and Gomez Addams have?

May I present: 🥁🥁🥁

They post illustrations, commentary, photography, and thoughts all about the supernatural and odd. I love showing it off to people, as they're super humble about their blog.

That's all! Enjoy the best frame from The Creature from the Black Lagoon :)

Bonus: Song Recs for Oddballs

[mountkennedie]

Evening Stroll

Anakin x fem!reader

Summary: Anakins first fall

Warnings: none

A.n. THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN EVER EVER EVER EVER EVERRRRRRR

Anakin finally got some highly needed time off. And you both knew exactly where you wanted to spend it.

It was truly a beautiful sight on Naboo. The leaves were changing from green to rich orange and red. They were scattered in every street and on every building. Anakin had never seen anything like what was before him.

"Is this natural?" He asked when the ship landed on the landing pad. It was by his expert piloting that you were able to find the pad at all. Itself was covered in fallen leaves.

You smiled, "Every year. Though more leaves fall with the years. I don't think the trees ever stop growing."

"It's beautiful." He walked slower than usual through the city. Hand in yours, but eyes looking all around. There was a small smile on his face as he gazed. He looked so at peace. "I've heard of this season. Autumn. But I've never been to a planet that has experienced it yet."

"Really? Even after exploring the galaxy on jedi business?"

He shook his head. "We don't really 'explore' on business. Really, just go to specific locations and wait. But even then, most places have extreme seasons or weather conditions." His tone took a sadder dip. You squeezed his hand in response.

You both made it to the house you shared. Before opening the door, Anakin turned to look at you, "Can we come back out this evening?" His voice was full of longing.

"Of course we can. Strolling in the final sunrays is my favorite thing to do around this time of year."

The time had come. It was 5 pm in the afternoon, and you and Anakin were getting ready for your walk. You noticed Anakin only wore a long-sleeve and some simple pants. "Oh no, put a robe on. The air only gets crisper as the sun sets."

"Yes ma'am," he smirked before grabbing a simlle robe from the closet. It was a dark green and matched yours. He came back out, and you nodded in approval.

He stood at the door waiting for you. Placing the lid on your thermos, you took it with you and held onto his arm. Once the door was open, you both felt the chill nipping at your noses, and you walked out into the world.

"I see why you made me wear this. I wasn't aware the temperature would drop this fast." His breath made a little cloud in the cool air. "But I love it even more."

You chuckled to yourself and then opened the thermos to take a sip of your drink. You sighed as the warm liquid defrosted you on the inside. The smell of the cinnamon and apples inside perked up Anakin's senses.

"What have you got there?" He asked in a gentle tone.

"Apple cider. It's a seasonal drink. Try some," you offered him the thermos.

"It smells delicious," he took a sip. "And tastes delicious," he took two and then tree gulps.

"Stop it!" You had to rip the thermos from his hands. Anakins' laughter hit your ears like the best song you've ever heard. But you still had to give him a light smack on the arm for nearly devouring the drink you planned to SHARE.

"Follow me. I know a place you'd love." You were a little nervous at first. The sun was beginning to set. You didn't want Anakin to miss the beauty he was about to see.

He held your hand in his as you guided him to this new location. Your house was on the outskirts of town, so finding solitude was very easy. You had found this spot the last time the two of you were here. You planned to show him but didn't know the perfect time to until now.

There was a singular bench on an empty hill. It was high enough that you were able to see a bit of the local village. It faced west, so the sunset was in perfect view.

Anakin and you cuddled close together. His arm draped around you, and you rested your head on his chest. You finished off what was left in the thermos, then set it on the ground between yalls feet.

Anakin, a slow kiss on your head. His hand rubbed small circles on your arm. "You know how to pick 'em," he whispered. You hummed in response. He was silent for a moment, just watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. The oranges and reds matched in the sky matched the scenery below. A small "I love you" was heard from under his breath.

"I love you too," you sighed contently. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a place of complete peace. A peace you knew he also shared.

The following day, you both woke up on that same bench. Except Anakin had laid back fully on the bench. He had you on top of him, snuggled into his jacket. His head was angled in your hair. His sleepy eyes met yours as you looked up.

"Ani, it's morning," you said groggily. You tried to sit up, but he pulled you back down. He bent his left leg, caging you in.

"Good morning," he muttered.

"We slept outside all night, Ani."

"We did," you both stared at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter. Anakin rubbed his eyes and then sat up, taking you with him. "We should do this again."

"No, we should not," You shook your head playfully. "That's how you get sick. But... I'd be willing to show you more fall things people do here. If you'd be up for it."

"Yes," he looked so serious. Maybe this will be the beginning of a love of this season for him.

[drakewyne]

nancy got a massive star anise in that turkish coffee blend an iraqi man had brought her from a trip abroad — that’s fine, she doesn’t mind strong flavors and she likes the shape. ba’athist baghdad in the ‘70s would still be their meeting spot.

“would you believe christmas is one of my favorite holidays?”

she takes a sip. it tastes sharp ended like stars.

“actually the way i’ve been acting, i wouldn’t believe it either.”

and this is a godless season.

( cw: sad )

tim recompenses by making a gingerbread man walk over her hand. he has dark chocolate buttons and a royal icing smile. he looks a little stupid, but pleased. nancy squishes a cheek in her hand and wonders what the little cookie’s secret is.

“you have the opposite of seasonal affective disorder,” she comments while tim whistles the vince guaraldi trio, “you have seasonal disaffective disorder.”

“‘please eat me, it’s all i live for. it’s all i fucking live for.’” tim moves the cookie around.

she clicks her tongue: “at least he says it out loud.”

“i always actually felt like christmas kinda made up for the bleak 0 for 8 nature of chanukah,” tim answers, “so this part of the season’s like a reward in and of itself.”

nancy thinks and then snaps off the gingerbread man’s stupid head.

“sorry for shitting all over your pageantry then.”

“i’ve seen bigger shits.”

she separates the eyes and the smile between perfected teeth.

“it’s not your fault,” he mumbles, “everyone gets that this is kinda a bullshit time for you.”

“well,” she frowns, “i’m not really so sentimental.”

“annie.”

she swallows and turns her head to watch the plush snow falling outside. the cottony sound of the fat drops hitting the window fills her mouth with cold sponge cake. her brow pulls, as she’s tried to swallow that too.

“okay,” she begrudgingly admits, “so i’m a little sentimental.”

“and you’re taking this feeling out of place thing a little personally.”

“that’s the most personal feeling you could’ve described.”

“trust me,” tim pops both arms in his mouth, “i know.”

the gingerbread man’s down to a torso and legs, his chocolate buttoned suit delineated with icing.

nancy sips her espresso and lays both hands flat on the table, dark button eyes boring into the wood. when the sheer force of her gaze leaves no exit wounds, she softens up and feels embarrasingly weepy in the throat.

“i can’t really blame anyone,” she admits quietly, “it’s totally all my fault. that’s neutral, i think, it is what it is . . . ”

tim hands her the left leg. she thanks him and takes it in her slim hand.

“everything kinda slows down in winter anyway,” tim explains, “it’s just too quiet a season for you.”

“and for you?”

“are you kidding? i get free reign when it’s quiet like this- i go ice skating and everything.”

nancy huffs, humored. then she looks at him, and something in his eyes is sheer crystal truth. she angles her head.

“no way.”

“i actually do.”

“are you good?”

“i’m alright.”

“shut the hell up,” she shakes her head, “i hate when you do that. it means you’re actually dead good.”

“you know everyone was happy that you showed. don’t feel bad about psyching them out a little.”

there’s a star on top of the christmas tree. she thinks about the angel that used to top hers.

“if we had a pool for every time we weren’t sure if someone was showing,” tim leans back, “dick’d make the top spot every year.”

they got a fresh tree every year. and there’s a new family in that house. the angel topper?

“you can take your time. wouldn’t even matter if we split- you’d still get an invite for next year.”

she’s not totally sure where it went off to.

“hey, don’t cry-”

“i’m not,” she blinked, surprised by the accusation, “i’m not.”

then she touched beneath her eyes and realized she was.

she explained briefly that she got her dad a safe, soft balsa wood model plane and the truth was simply that he actually liked it, he was slightly excited, he loves planes. did she ever tell him that? no? oh, well, he loves planes and understands them in a way that feels bigger than what they are.

and the truth was simply that she loved him and understood him in a way that was bigger than his six feet and five inches.

both of them would prefer that the thing they love not hold them to it.

nancy and tim in his old room. she pushes the clutch ( removes her makeup ) and he pulls the choke ( unwinds her scarf from her neck ). she hates being weepy like this. she thinks it’s disgustingly indelicate and slightly rude of her considering the fanfare. she looks around at his walls and feels so much of him in the dark paint and the boyish bedspread. quintessential adolescent. blue and grey checkered and everything. he had a sony stereo right above it with headphones waiting for him to come back.

“what were you last listening to in here?” she asks.

tim presses the disc eject and scrutinizes the cd. “slowdive. souvlaki. banger album.”

“when was that?”

“don’t remember putting a cd in here recently,” he shrugs, “so i guess five years ago or so.”

she sits on the bedspread and the mattress catches her weight. from below, there’s a muffled degree of cheerful noise. his curtains are open, and the white flurries around outside.

“i don’t think i can get you out of here,” he wincingly admits, “storm’s getting too gnarly to drive in.”

“do you know where alfred would’ve taken my bags?”

“probably just by the coats.”

“can you bring them? i just want my sweater.”

he does. he watches her pull her clothes off and finds it slightly even more intimate to watch nancy put a sweater on.

“i turn into this big baby when i’m the littlest bit jetlagged,” she brushes it off, putting lotion on her peachy face after taking out her contacts, “i just get super ridiculous.”

“have you tried puking? i just puke.”

“i like the efficiency in that. get it all out.”

“i move fast.”

“i actually really like your room,” nancy looks up at the ceiling, “it’s cute you put stars up there.”

he lay beside her, squinting: “forgot i did that. anyway you’re wrong and it’s actually metal. these are the constellations you see from apokolips — where darkseid lives. it’s in this dimension that you need a boom tube to get to.”

“oh my god,” nancy sighs, shutting her eyes, “you had such a fucked up childhood.”

“my bad.”

she touches his hand and he turns his palm up to make it easier. she was just curious, just wondering, but did he ever hold hands in this room like this? no. too many people and too little respect for closed doors and too much urgency. he was making moves without a home field advantage. a panicky adolescent bravery.

“not to mention, my room wasn’t ever really suitable for visitors.”

“it still isn’t back at yours.”

“then i guess there is no stopping sister nancy after all. i’m glad they made that song real.”

she laughs lightly, low and slow and dizzy. then she apologizes quietly for being a pain about everything. then she asks him to tell everyone that she really appreciates the invitation, but she can’t hang. he will.

he says, “hey, before you go to sleep.”

tim has likely been eating his body weight in gingerbread all night, but she likes strong flavors and it feels sharp ended like stars. his hair crushed against her head and this was an unfamiliar, surprising custom that she blinked over. this closeness. this buoy knocking of skulls.

“nobody thinks there’s a way you’re supposed to feel about anything, but i’ll still leave out the part where you started crying.”

kissing would be easier. would at least give her something to do with her hands.

“the patience’s actually kinda annoying,” he admits, “give it a few hours over breakfast and you’ll be begging to get called out.”

yet as is historically true for her, the long way out is objectively the best way.

“you think it’s a little stupid, right?” she asks hesitantly.

tim doesn’t give her what she wants. he keeps his face the same.

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with what’s stupid or not.”

“i know better.”

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with knowing shit either.”

“tim,” she shuts her bird egg eyes, “do you remember what happened?”

“i remember what i think happened.”

“well, i remember everything. i remember it all super clearly.”

“ . . . i believe you.”

she opens her eyes.

[chromium-siren]

(Very late but whatever) Millicent’s Most Sincere Pumpkin Patch

@huxloween because apparently the submission box is being weird

“You are so tacky,” Kylo said with a smirk as he watched Hux take pictures of Millicent, who was seated among some plastic pumpkins that they were about to put up. After all, Halloween was the perfect time to decorate, and Millie matched the gourds perfectly.

“I know, but you know what? I don’t care at all. Besides, Millie looks adorable in her most sincere pumpkin patch,” Hux replied, as his beloved cat started to clean one of her paws. Millie did look very cute, he had to admit. Kylo was then seized with an idea.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving the room for a while. He came back with a Sharpie, a piece of cardboard, and a blue dish towel.

“What’s all that?” Hux asked, confused, but then he knew what Kylo was going for when he saw what he wrote on the cardboard. “WELCOME GREAT PUMPKIN” it said, and Kylo arranged the dish towel to make it look like Linus’ trademark blanket.

“What do you think?” Kylo asked. Hux couldn’t help but smile.

“Perfect.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Song of the Day - “Willow Weep For Me” Today marks the 70th anniversary of the recording of this beauty of a standard by Billie Holiday- September 3rd, 1954. Billie was backed by Willie Smith on sax, Harry Edison on trumpet, Bobby Tucker on piano, Red Calendar on bass, Chico Hamilton on drums, and Barney Kessel on guitar. This was Billie’s last album on Clef Records before it would be absorbed into Verve Records. This album was released in 1956 in conjunction with Billie’s ghost-written memoir of the same title… This title would also become the title of the biographical movie about Billie, with Diana Ross, which was made in 1972. This song,“Willow Weep For Me”, both music and lyrics, was written in 1932 by Ann Ronell. Ronell was one of the very first accepted female songwriters in both Hollywood and Tin Pan Alley. She wrote movie scores as well as a Broadway musical. She worked for George Gershwin and dedicated this song to him, which oddly was off-putting to the publishers she pitched it to, for some reason. It was apparently frowned upon to do that. So, due to that, and also to the melody’s kinda complex construction, the song was rejected repeatedly before finally being accepted. It became a standard of the era, and was Ann Ronell’s greatest gift and moment. The song was covered by dozens of great artists - from Sinatra to Nina Simone to the Coasters to Chad and Jeremy, to Oscar Peterson to Sam Cooke, to Steve Miller to Dexter Gordon, to Vince Guaraldi, to Red Garland… But this version can have a good case made to be the best… The melancholy waltz is made for Billie’s voice. What a precious gift this one is.

[Mary Elaine LeBey]

[daniels-swagger]

Hey guys let me ramble about Christmas with Danny for a second...

Imagine going home to Frankenmuth with him for the holidays and him showing you around to all the special places he went to growing up. And him throwing snowballs at you even when you specifically told him not to. And him making sure you're all bundled up because he doesn't want you to be too cold :( and him letting you wear his sweaters :( and eating dinner with his family and them making you feel so comfortable and like you're part of the family. And hanging out with the Kiszkas and going sledding or something 😭 and sitting on the couch with Danny with cups of hot cocoa watching Christmas movies beneath a blanket as snow falls outside :( and the big one that I've been thinking about a lot... sleeping with him in his childhood bed thats way too small for him now, let alone the two of you. But he won't let you sleep alone so you're both cramped on the little bed and you wake up sleeping on his chest and you lay there and cuddle a little bit as he runs his fingers through your hair. And you go downstairs and make pancakes with him and Josie or something and you all have breakfast together 😭😭😭

Please tell me yall get it...

[theresawritesstuff]

Prompt: The one and only time their kids do stand up is for Lenny and Midges 20th wedding anniversary in 1982.

So...this clocked in at around 5k words. I had fun 😅 Written as something that could be compliant with Guess Who's Coming to Yom Kippur but not necessary to have read the fic.

Enjoy! (It's long. Seriously. You've been warned)

"You both comfy? Having a good time?" Susie tutted uncharacteristicly.

"We're great, Susie," Lenny assured her, his arm draped contentedly across the back of Midge's chair.

"Everything is perfect," Midge agreed.

Susie nodded. "Okay good. Now do me a favor and sit tight. You aren't going to want to miss this."

"Miss what?"

Midge looked up curiously as the jazzy baseline of a familiar song began to play, announcing her youngest daughter's ascent to the stage she'd been told just happened to come with the venue. 

A hush fell over the room as the teenager cleared her throat, taking her place at the microphone. 

"You might be wondering…" she drawled with a mischievous smirk. "Who throws their parents an anniversary party then gets up on stage to make fun of them? I mean, who does that?

"Who stands in the middle of a ballroom in front of friends, family, colleagues, caterers, social acquaintances we've never heard of but Mama insisted should be invited–You know who you are–and decides to do a mediocre version of what they're known best for world wide? Who does that?"

She shrugged playfully to the crowd of guests.

"Apparently we do."

She smiled as a ripple of chuckles made its way through the room.

"Did you know about this?" Midge whispered to Lenny.

Her husband shook his head, watching their daughter work the room.

"Good evening everyone. I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce and my siblings and I, with some assistance from Susie Meyerson and Associates, are your hosts and entertainment for the evening.

"Tonight, as you know, we are gathered to celebrate the twentieth wedding anniversary of Miriam Weissman-Bruce, AKA Mrs. Maisel to the comedy world, and her forever lover Lenny. Her words, not mine. Blechhh!"

Lilah mimed gagging over the phrase briefly before winking at her parents, subtly gauging their reactions.

"But seriously folks. My parents are so in love with each other even after all these years. And I can tell you first hand…It's as adorable as it is nauseating."

Susie barked a laugh in agreement while Midge shook her head, smiling proudly.

"I'm not saying they can't keep their hands to themselves but fair warning Mama is three–three?" She looked to her mother for confirmation on the number, then kept going, "Three glasses of champagne into the evening and just got back from a week of shows on the west coast so, you know, make sure to knock before you get your coat from coat check. Or use the bathroom. Or refresh some of the hors d'oeuvres in the walk-in fridge and I'm giving them ideas…"

The laughs grew at her daughter's deadpanned horrified realization. "Great…"

Lenny smirked, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"Please don't get randy in the walk-in. Please," Lilah begged, earning another laugh.

She took the mic from the stand so that she could move about the performance space a bit more, grinning to the crowd.

"Like I said, for those who don't know me, I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce. Those of you that do know me probably know me as Birdie or better yet, the answer to the question 'what would happen if we left Lenny and Midge alone together for a weekend?'"

She held up an arm, waving in a jazz hand fashion.

"Ta-da! Mystery solved!"

She smiled to herself, taking in the laughs.

"Yes, I am the youngest of the Maisel-Weissman-Bruce horde. The progeny of not just one but two stand up comedians. Please take a moment to marvel at how mentally stable I am."

She held for applause, waving it off in mock modesty after a moment of reveling. "Thank you! I'm stunned too."

She shook her head, slowly pacing the stage. "In all fairness, Mama and Dad have always been very conscious about how their careers impact our family and made sure we knew growing up that we could choose whatever career paths we wanted. Just as long as it wasn't comedy."

The friends they'd made in show business over the years laughed especially hard at that punchline.

Lilah waved a playful finger. "That didn't stop other people from suggesting it though! I think I was about two or three years old the first time I remember visiting Mama on set and having a sound tech hand me a microphone out of the morbid curiosity to see what I would say.

"It was one of those big ones with the foam cover on top like the most perfect scoop of ice cream. You know the ones…"

She turned thoughtfully to the microphone currently in her grasp.

"I remember looking at it. Holding it in my hands. Feeling the weight of it. Contemplating the gift I'd been given…

"And then I put it right in my mouth."

She mimicked taking a big bite of the microphone in her hand, earning a guffaw from Ethan near the dj station.

"It did not taste like ice cream!" she informed them. "Anytime anyone came within ten feet of me with a microphone after that I just screamed NO THANK YOU and ran."

She shot out her arm to illustrate the memory, grinning at her own joke.

She let out a sigh, shrugging. "So the fact that I'm holding this now should tell you what a rare treat this is. We've managed to avoid doing any sort of stand up over the years, my siblings and I. No school talent shows, no anonymous open mic nights, no multi generational acts for fundraisers. Nothing! 

"But then this party started to come together and we started talking about ways we could make it extra special and we realized…these two are really hard to shop for. Like really hard to shop for.

"So then we decided, what the hell, just this once. For Mama and Dad. And all the people that have pestered us to do this since we were kinder…And only because Billy Joel was on tour when we called to try to book him for tonight. Man that would have been something, wouldn't it?"

She considered the microphone in her hands again.

"Although now that I've gotten over this not being ice cream, this isn't so bad…"

She smirked teasingly at her parents, breaking a little.

"No, no, I'm kidding. Promise! None of us kids are quitting our day jobs," she assured them. 

For the rest of those gathered, she added,"Granted, I just wrapped up my senior year of high school, so I'd need to get a day job first, but if I had one I would not quit it to be a stand up comedian."

Lilah leaned an arm on the mic stand to confide in her captive audience for her next bit, waiting out the laugh.

"You know, people always have asked me 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' Weird question, honestly. What do you want to be?

"When I was really little I told everyone I wanted to be a unicorn. 

"Then as I got a little older, a little wiser, a little more understanding of how the world works I realized what a great opportunity I had…" she grinned wickedly to the crowd, "to utterly mess with people. So I started telling folks that I wanted to be a proctologist."

Lenny let out a sharp laugh, having forgotten that particular antic of years gone by until that moment. It was one she'd mainly saved for Midge's colleagues over his own.

"No one expected that from the cute little seven year old hanging out in mommy's make up chair! I always loved when I could get an old guy to ask me too. I'd be laughing for days from the looks on their faces. Weeks if they asked me when Susie was in the room!"

"You and me both, kid," Susie muttered proudly into her drink.

Lilah let out a contented sigh, growing more serious.

"I'm starting college soon though so I've had to give my career options some real serious consideration…And you know? I think I've finally decided."

She paused, drawing up the suspense.

"I think I'm gonna go with being a unicorn."

She grinned to herself, giving a little bow as the laughter erupted around her.

"Thank you so much. Now give it up for the real future Doctor Weissman-Bruce. My sister Esther!"

The applause swelled as the sisters exchanged a hug and passed off the microphone for the next set.

Esther looked around the room, exhaling her nerves. "Hi," she chuckled, shaking her head at her little sister. "Hi, I'm Esther."

Her siblings let out a loud whoop from the side of the room along with the applause of their guests.

"Thanks," she smiled, checking the note card in her hand.

"Um… You know…It's a funny thing growing up having everyone think your parents are super cool. Because they're really not.

"I mean, okay, they are," she conceded, "but also they're not.

"To everyone else out there, they're the Marvelous Mrs Maisel and the Legendary Lenny Bruce. To me, they're just my dorky parents."

She fought back a smirk at the rumble of laughter, starting to get more comfortable on stage.

"I remember when I was really little, before these two even got married, I was out somewhere with Mama, probably shopping, and this woman, this fan, came up to us for an autograph.

'Mrs Maisel! Mrs Maisel!'

"And I remember I just looked up at her like she was crazy and said 'She's Miriam Weissman now' and kept walking."

Her smile grew as she picked her mother's laugh out of the crowd.

"I didn't know what a stage name was. But I sure as hell knew Mama had changed her name back after the divorce and no one was going to undermine that on my watch."

She waved a dismissive hand at the laughs, segueing.

"But no, weird fan encounters aside, I think these two love birds did a good job raising us, giving us a semi-normal childhood. Or at least as close to normal as this family can really get.

"It was more perplexing than anything else really. The fan stuff.

"Friends would always be so starstruck by people that I knew as my parents lame work friends. Sorry to those of you that applies to. I'm sure you were very hip," she apologized, getting another laugh.

"But seriously! Think about when you were a kid and your parents got together with their friends and every adult would just awkwardly start their conversation with you with 'Wow you've gotten taller since I last saw you. How old are you now?' while trying to mask their horror as they come face to face with the passage of time and the fact that they too are growing older…"

She paused, letting the melodramatics sit for a moment.

"Now add in more gin and talks about contract negotiations and you've got every barbecue that Mike Carr has ever hosted."

Mike slapped the table, shaking his head fondly at the call out while those that knew him laughed along.

"See? Now we're on the same page," Esther beamed. "And don't get me wrong, these two are very funny individuals. I get that. But they're still my parents. Do you laugh at everything your parents say? No! Because we're not supposed to! The parent child dichotomy negates so much of what other people find hilarious.

She flipped the card in her hand, continuing.

"Everyone always assumes that every family dinner is this big laugh fest.

"And yeah sure, we joke around when we're together but it wasn't like there was a tight ten happening every night over the brisket. We still had a 'no dick jokes at the table' rule growing up. Although I guess that rule isn't usually for the parents but other than that they're surprisingly normal, I swear!"

She smiled at the uproar of laughter, deciding to pocket the cards.

"Yes, they are famously filthy comics, professionally. But our home life was it's own weird brand of wholesome. Dad still tried to help us with our homework and took us out for ice cream when we had a bad day. Mama still threw us birthday parties and did the mandatory PTA carnivals and took us shopping for school clothes.

"Speaking of which, can I have a brief moment of sympathy for my teenage self for having to go up against Mrs Maisel in arguments about what was cool in the world of fashion? I mean come on!!! The woman is so well known for her sense of style that before any of us borrow something from her closet we need to check to make sure the Smithsonian hasn't already called dibs on it."

Lenny gave Midge's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, chuckling softly.

"We've come to understand one another a little better on that front now that I'm an adult but as a kid it was like oil and water. She would always try to find us these ritzy designer clothes and I just wanted the bargain bin tie dye and the cheap earrings from the school craft show!"

Esther looked over to see her mother wincing at the memory as she laughed along with everyone.

"I know! It's amazing we both survived," she smirked. "Poor Dad had to referee so many arguments he had no strong opinions on either side of at all. And that's an achievement in and of itself really. Finding something Lenny Bruce is the neutral party on.

"Politics? Nope. Literature? No chance. Should people be allowed to put ketchup on a hotdog? You'll be hearing about it for at least half an hour! But put him in the war zone of a Weissman fashion smackdown? He's suddenly the calmest, quietest mediator there is. If wars were fought over the pros and cons of pattern mixing, we could send that man in and have world peace within the week! He certainly saved our household from going ballistic multiple times between 1970 and 1975.

"Forget all his humanitarian work, that alone should win him the Nobel Peace Prize!"

Midge reached over to pat his knee and whisper a silent Thank you, resting her head against his shoulder.

Esther continued, once the laughs and applause died down. "Tensions over my teenage fashion foibles aside, it actually has been really incredible being able to call these two my parents. They helped me believe I could achieve anything I set my mind to, with enough persistence of character. They showed me what it means to stand up for what's right, even when everyone else is sitting down. They taught me how to laugh when things don't go to plan.

"And most importantly, they taught me that love, that family will see you through any season of hardship or heartbreak... Even if you still insist on wearing the craft show earrings."

Midge shook her head, meeting her daughter's eyes across the room with love.

Esther returned the gaze in kind, placing a hand gratefully over her heart.

"Alright, Ethan, it's your turn. Get on up here and get it over with. You can finish your cake later! There's like five of them."

She smirked to herself as her brother meandered up from the dj station, swiping the plate of cake from his hand.

Ethan sighed dramatically as he took the stage, adjusting the mic stand height to his level.

"Hi. I'm Ethan. Most of you probably knew that," he began, getting his bearings. "Being the oldest, I actually remember a little bit of what it was like back when these two were first dating. Back when we still lived with my grandparents.

"I remember the day I met Lenny. It was notable even back then because Mama never brought any of her prior romantic prospects into our lives. Never invited any dates for a family dinner. Wouldn't even talk about them in front of us really. But Lenny was different.

"I remember I was nose deep in an issue of Detective Comics and Grandma Rose came over and said 'Ethan, say hello to your mother's friend Mr. Bruce'..."

Lenny covered a smirk, knowing full well where his son was going with this.

"I looked up. Saw this tall, strong jawed, dark haired fellow in a dark suit. 

"I looked back at my comic book. Back up at Mr. Bruce…

"And thought 'Holy shit! My mom is dating Batman!'"

Ethan smiled to himself, listening to the distinct laughs of those who knew the story and those who did not.

"They tried to deny it, but the more I learned about the guy, the more I was convinced this man was the caped crusader.

"No, seriously! Stay with me on this. He only worked at night," Ethan said, counting the list of evidence on his fingers. "He always wore black suits. Sometimes he had those dark circles like he'd been up all night, fighting for truth and justice.

"I actually caught him on our fire escape one morning changing his clothes. Clearly solid proof–I could only assume he'd already stashed his costume. Heroes do that sort of thing, you know. Totally plausible. No other reason he would have been out there, just outside Mama's room at seven AM. Clearly this was the crime fighter I'd been reading about."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Oh to be five again…

Lenny covered his face with his hand, fighting back a laugh, shrugging sheepishly.

"Then there was the whole name thing! Mr. Bruce. Master Bruce. Grandpa Abe had told me about how sometimes they change people's names in the media to protect someone's identity. Their secret identity. I had a solid case!

"Mom's new boyfriend is Batman. Sweet. Can't wait to tell my friends.

"But then I started wondering… Is my mother a former supervillain? 

"I mean, Batman is always going up against folks like the Joker, the Riddler… Mama goes out late all the time, doesn't talk about what she's doing and people keep calling her the Comedienne. 

"Plus! I overheard my grandparents saying Mama got arrested again.

"My mother. Arrested. For crime!

"It was a distressing revelation. But then I remembered…Batman doesn't hang out with Bad Guys. Clearly the power of love had brought my mother back to the light. She couldn't be a villain. Not anymore at least. And that was good enough for me. If she hit up a bank or two and got away with it, yeah, okay, I can get over that. More toys for us and maybe she might stop yelling at the milkman.

"And if she wasn't a supervillain…that meant she must be Robin!

"I still don't know where they hid the batmobile but I'm gonna find it one of these days. There's only so many places you can park a car in Manhattan."

He cleared his throat, looking at his feet as he gathered his thoughts.

"I know now that back then a lot of people didn't see Lenny quite so heroically. But I always have. In more than just the way that most kids see their dads as heroes. Because he really was out there standing up for truth. For justice. Not in the nice, tidy, easily palatable way everyone liked to read about in the newsprints, but out of a genuine, heroic belief that we could do better as a nation. As individuals.

"And even more importantly to me, he made Mom smile again. Really smile after God knows how long. Nothing could be more heroic than that."

Midge reached over, taking Lenny's hand.

"I think these two have saved each other quite a bit over the years they've been together. They're the real dynamic duo, if you ask me. And I couldn't be prouder to call them my parents.

"Happy Anniversary you two."

He took a deep breath as applause filled the room, working through the swell of emotions in his chest.

"Okay! I'm gonna go circle the block one more time just to make sure today wasn't the day they brought the batmobile out of storage. In the meantime, give it up for my sister Kitty!

Kitty took the stage, patting Ethan on the shoulder as she passed him on the steps.

"Fuck, Ethan, you weren't supposed to make us cry. Jesus…" she admonished, wiping at her eyes. "That was my plan!"

She grinned at the chuckle from the equally emotional crowd.

"Hi, I'm Kitty. I'm the closer for the evening. Hey let's give these two another hand, am I right? Twenty years!"

She shook her head, exhaling as she collected herself, moving the mic stand back down.

"I remember when Dad first told my grandma that he was moving back to New York with me, she thought he was nuts. 

"He hadn't really done the whole single dad thing on his own before. The obscenity laws were still their own levels of obscene. The lawyers didn't come cheap. He was still in his first year of getting clean. It meant moving me across the country, building a whole new life.

"It was a lot.

"But I was all in on the idea. I couldn't wait. I was so ready to be a Weissman! 

"He hadn't even proposed yet but I knew he was going to. I just knew it. And not just because I really, really, really wanted him to so I could play dress up in Mom's closet anytime I wanted. Back before we had to fight the Smithsonian for some of the good stuff."

She winked at her parents, fiddling with the mic chord.

"No…You could tell just looking at the two of them that they were meant to be together. Or at least I could.

"I remember it was like this light had turned on inside them anytime they got together. They just radiated this…magic. They still do. I hope that makes sense. I've never been fully able to put it into words…Which is why I brought slides!"

Those that knew her as the family shutterbug murmured a mix of chuckles and good natured groans.

"Oh come on now! You're gonna love this," Kitty teased.

She pulled up the first slide, a snapshot of a much younger version of her parents in a midtown club, chatting over drinks, the energy between them clearly flirtatious.

"I did a little digging for this set," she admitted. "Being that this is an anniversary party, it felt appropriate to build a sort of visual history of their love story. So let's start here. In 1959. 

"I found this in a collection by an old club photographer who worked at one of the spots Dad had played around that time. Now I think we can all agree these two look pretty smitten."

She held up a finger, grinning in amusement. "One small hiccup though…"

Midge ducked her head while Lenny smirked impishly, recognizing the night it was from.

"Dad was not Mom's date that particular evening in 1959. He was the entertainment."

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of her father performing on stage with Midge visible in the audience, watching enraptured.

"This handsome stretch next to her, however, was her date. Poor guy…I grilled Susie for the details because I was desperately curious. She said this guy was a doctor! Like top of his field, owns a brownstone and a Picasso kind of doctor. Not bad, Mom.

"Didn't stand a chance though, did he? Not with Lenny 'steal your girl' Bruce smoldering at her from behind the microphone."

She clicked back to the previous slide. "I mean look at this! You knew she was on a date, mister! Shameless."

She tutted in faux exasperation, rolling her eyes. 

"Like I said. Meant to be together. It's pretty obvious looking back, isn't it?

"And it wasn't just Mom looking for a better date."

She clicked a few slides forward, revealing another club shot, this time of Midge and Susie looking positively miserable.

"I'm pretty sure this was New Year's, 1961. Rough night, from the looks of it."

She clicked to the next slide, a snapshot from the same night, possibly taken only minutes after, with Midge smiling brightly in Lenny's embrace.

"That is until Dad pulled a sneak attack and surprised her by flying back early. See what I mean? Magic! Look at those faces!"

"We were pretty cute," Lenny murmured.

"Were?" his wife teased, earning a smirk.

Kitty leaned on the mic stand, addressing the room.

"I gotta tell you, I owe some of you here the nicest gift baskets for capturing these next moments way back when and for sharing these with me over the last few months on the sly. But until I get around to it…"

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of the pair lounging, mid conversation on the stage of an empty Carnegie Hall.

"After Dad's famous midnight show at Carnegie, graciously provided by Alan! Not much of a runner but he was quick with a shutter. I'd say the bail money was worth it."

Lenny barked a laugh at one of his oldest friend's expense.

Kitty grinned cheekily at her adoptive uncle in the crowd, moving on.

"Skating outside 30 Rock. Ethan, Esther, and I were there too. Also my first memory of snow! Thank you, Mike, for pulling this gem from the archives. 

"A quick aside, I believe that's Gordon drunk off his ass on the ice in the background there. Who let you out there without skates, man?"

She clicked to the next, an image of Midge and Lenny standing cozily together, hand in hand outside a familiar Chinese restaurant.

"We could never figure out why exactly they liked this place so much, but thank you Imogene for capturing their go to anniversary spot. Even when they definitely could afford somewhere more upscale."

She clicked over to a shot of Midge and Lenny laughing on the front steps of the Weissman family bungalow, eating ice cream straight out of a multi-gallon tub from the Steiner soda shoppe.

"Oh I love this one! Here's Mom and Dad on our first trip to the Catskills just before they got engaged. And right after they got temporarily banned from the soda shoppe."

"I thought we paid for that," Lenny wondered to Midge.

"We did eventually."

Kitty clicked to the next slide.

"Their first dance at their wedding. I don't have a joke for that one, I just like it."

The next image to come up behind her was one of a hospital room, her parents both asleep, Midge half upright with a newborn in her arms.

"Oh here's when Birdie was born! So in love," Kitty cooed. "And so so so tired."

She laughed to herself, glancing up at the picture before turning back to the crowd.

"For those of you who are curious, no Dad was not the one responsible for the nickname. That one we can blame on our brother. When Grandma brought us to visit Ethan heard her cry for the first time and thought there was a wild bird stuck in the hospital. So not Dad's fault.

"Although he picked it up and ran with it pretty quickly, come to think of it. Dad I gotta ask... Kitty, Birdie…Did you really just want a pet? Is that what it was?"

Lenny let out a laugh, shaking his head at the call out.

"No, we know you love us, we've established this," Kitty assured him quickly, "but come on man! If we'd had a little brother what would you have called him? Fish?"

Kitty smiled at her parents, enjoying herself as she clicked to the next image.

"Moving on to 1964 with possibly the most colorful ensemble Dad has ever worn in his life…" She revealed a shot of both parents in near screen ready duplicates of the Jolly Holiday ensembles from Mary Poppins, all four kids completing the look with matching penguin costumes.

"Our first group Halloween costumes as a family! He looks good right? The blue bowtie is my favorite, honestly. Dick what do you think? I think he looks great."

Kitty grinned at the memory.

"We got so much candy that year. Grandma Shirley made those penguin costumes for us and put pockets all along theinside so we could use those when our bags got too full. Genius really. Until they got too heavy and then we really did have to waddle home."

She let out a sigh, segueing.

"In addition to actively creating some of the more notable moments of our pop culture, these two have also been caught canoodling during some of the more significant moments in our nation's history over the past two decades."

She brought up an image of the pair in a lip lock backstage.

"Here they are making out backstage at Ed Sullivan while the Beatles made their US debut."

"They were playing our song." Midge shrugged unapologetically.

Kitty pulled up an image of another kiss, this one of her parents hanging out of the window of the Steiner bungalow, holding a pair of makeshift rabbit ears under a full moon.

"And during the Moon landing."

The next image contained a celebratory kiss over a newspaper headline.

"And when Nixon resigned," Kitty smirked.

She pulled up another slide, this one of the pair outside 30 Rock in the mid-seventies.

"Here they are outside after one of the first episodes at SNL. The night we met Gilda!"

She beamed, hand over her heart as she looked out at their friend in the crowd.

She pulled up the final slide, her father kissing Midge's hair as they watched proudly from the bleachers.

"And at Birdie's graduation just last month."

She grinned over at her little sister with a shrug. "That last one might not seem significant to the rest of America but to us, to Mom and Dad, it was a big moment. Their youngest child graduating. And soon… they will be empty nesters…How will they pass the time?"

She took a bow as their guests applauded, blowing a kiss to her parents.

"Thank you so much. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed our act because we're never doing it again. Now let's eat the rest of that cake!"

[askparadise]

hey winslow, what are your thoughts on frank mills and richard clayderman? are there any contemporary pianists you enjoy?

Winslow: "Yes to both. Nicky Hopkins and Rick Wakeman are also Pianists that I respect the portfolios of. Firstly, they all pull from the right sources, that really deep honest place. Secondly they've put in the time, they've got the training and muscle memory to pull it off. For me, it's about getting your soul out there and on display at the piano, raw, exposed, vulnerable. A lot of people chicken out. Some people have a beautiful one, soul I mean, some people have an ugly one but it's all music. Then you've got some people, like those doo-wop bozos and the Juicy Fruits who regurgitate this stuff that's been eaten and digested a hundred times already. It's not even their honest work to begin with. On that same note, that's also why I can't stand people messing with my music. You take a good honest thing and you change it until it's nobody and nothing in particular. It's not just 'what's the point', it's an insult. It's an insult to the composer. It's an insult to everything music's meant to be. Maybe it sounds technically alright to you and Jane Doe in the record store, but it makes my ears bleed. What people don't get is I'm never looking for 'perfect', I'm looking for honest, pure, channeled, and that's exactly what I heard when I first met Pheonix."

Simmering down some Winslow straightens himself out.

"On a purely nostalgic level I've also got a soft spot for the Vince Guaraldi. The Peanuts comics were really popular when I was a kid and then the cartoon came out later. It was all piano. That one's not about skill, though it's got it. It just hits a really nice part in my heart. Not a Christmas goes by where I don't put Charlie Brown on. Keeps me company."

[einsteinsugly]

Donna Pinciotti's 60s Playlist.

Blackbird by The Beatles

California Dreamin' by The Mamas and The Papas

Christmas Time Is Here by Vince Guaraldi Trio

Feeling Good by Nina Simone

For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield

Go Where You Wanna Go by The Mamas and The Papas

Groovin' by The Young Rascals (it reminds her of Eric)

Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin (no idea why I thought it was a very early 70s song, but hey, she'd listen to it in the 70s, too)

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Revolution by The Beatles

Stand By Me by Ben E King (aka, the first song she distinctly remembers)

Summer In The City by The Lovin' Spoonful

Think For Yourself by The Beatles

You Don't Own Me by Lesley Gore

Bonus: The songs/artists her parents make her listen to.

Anything by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

Anything by The Beach Boys, via her dad (at least her mom dislikes them as much as she does).

Ain't That A Kick In The Head by Dean Martin.

So. Much. Sinatra.

It's My Party by Lesley Gore. Her mom loves it. Donna, not so much.

I Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher.

Her dad loves Tom Jones, and he's almost worse than The Beach Boys.

My Girl by The Temptations. Donna's pretty sure it's a song that talks about a guy liking a girl, but her dad says it's a father/daughter song.

Extra Note: Blame Eric for The Beatles. It's his fault.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Friday, 11-29-24, 8am Pacific

G'mornin', everyone, this is your intrepid DJ Mr. Baggins, suiting up and showing up with Morning Coffee Music on this blackest of Fridays. While the blackest carafe of French Roast finishes its drip, let's hear from the very French Via Nova Quartet again this morning, this time in a gorgeous performance of Mozart's Quartet in B-minor, K.421.

Now that we've gotten that first sip, let's check in with our Harpsichordist, Malcolm Hamilton, for the final three Preludes and Fugues from Book 1 of Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, Nos. 22, 23, and 24. But no worries, we still have Book 2 to go!

Next let's check in with our old friends Neville and The Academy for a little bit of Vaughan Williams, his "In The Fen Country: A Symphonic Impression". recorded in 1995.

Staying with Vaughan Williams, we hear pianist Ashley Wass as the soloist, with James Judd conducting the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, in Vaughan Williams Piano Concerto in C Major.

And I thought this might be a good morning to play Mahler's Symphony No. 4, which ends with the song "A Child's Vision of Heaven". Here is the Symphony No. 4, in G major. We hear a live recording, with venerable conductor Bruno Walter leading The Vienna, at his Farewell Concert in Vienna, in 1960, with Soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as soloist.

Now let's hear pianist Aldo Cicconlini, in his classic recording of Liszt's 'The Years of Pilgrimage' (Les années de pèlerinage), a recording he made for Angel in 1963. Pay special attention to the third piece, a tiny Pastorale about a minute and a half long. You can almost imagine that being improvised by Jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi, on a Charlie Brown soundtrack. Delightful playing!

And I thought we'd have a little more Bach this morning, his famous Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565, in the orchestra transcription by Leopold Stokowski, from the original Fantasia Soundtrack. This included Disney's first experiments with a "stereo-like" effect of panning the sound around the theater according to what was on the screen.

And now a disc of sonatas for piano by Mendelssohn, his Piano Sonata in E Major, Op. 6, in G Minor, Op. 105, in E-flat Major, Op. 106, ending up with the Rondo Capriccioso Op. 14, all performed by pianist Frederic Chiu. I have this album and play it quite regularly...spirited playing of delightful music! (And if they throw in one of those "ultimate trip" things into the playlist, just skip over it).

That wraps up this Friday edition of Morning Coffee Music, I do hope you've enjoyed the selections this morning. This is Mr. Baggins signing off for now; I'll return at 2pm Pacific with your Afternoon Stack of Classic Wax!

Until then, be kind, babies, be kind.

Baggins out.

[fishoutoflovebeach]

how can you hate Christmas when it’s literally a holiday about you. CHRIStmas? I’m sorry I’ll find my way out now

hehe i love the pun but yeah 😔… its a religious and family thing im not gonna get into…

i celebrate the pagan holiday of yule and observe hannukah [and christmas too ig… only because thats the big holiday where i live, otherwise i dont celebrate it]. i don’t mind participating in [some] christmas events, i just remove [and avoid] the religious aspects and associate them more with yule

also as a greg lake fan [<- putting it very lightly], i think im obligated to listen to i believe in father christmas at least once this year [vince guaraldi trio’s music for a charlie brown christmas is sooo fire too]

dont let krampus get you :>

[alainamama17]

Christmas Countdown Music Celebration

Day 3 (December 3, 2023)

Bah humbug! LOL! Hardly! Hello everyone. Its about that time for our Christmas Countdown Music Celebration.

Our theme today is, share a Christmas song or songs you love that came from a film.

Christmas, Why Can't I Find You - James Horner w/Taylor Momsen (from the Grinch That Stole Christmas)

Believe - Josh Groban (from the Polar Express)

Silver and Gold - Burl Ives (from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer)

Christmas Time is Here - Lee Mendelson and Vince Guaraldi, sung by the children’s choir of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in San Rafael, Calif

There are a whole lot more than just the ones I've shared, and I've left a few obvious ones out as I don't want to hog them all with my post. So go ahead and share the ones you love.

@worldleaderpretend1969, @biggreenhouse, @lusnicky, @delightedobserverintraining, @prbworld21, @cheeky-down-under, @secondlifep, @flat-in-life, @musiclandoux, @a-lil-jaded-1, @interestedin-life, @bohicabill, @aravenlunatic, @mistymountainway. @onlya5butfunny, @dad86getsum

[goodbysunball]

Illegal life forever

Sleep's hard to come by these days, but important new music is not. Really excited about all of these albums, though I think a lot more people would be into the J.R.C.G. and Weak Signal records if they heard 'em. Feels wild to be alive in a time where this much new music hits a nerve.

J.R.C.G., Grim Iconic (Sadistic Mantra) LP (Sub Pop) Second album post-Dreamdecay from Justin R. Cruz Gallego, and it's a monster step forward from Ajo Sunshine. While sonically the two albums are drowning in layers of tom-forward drumming, buzzing synths, and effects-garbled vocals, Grim Iconic (Sadistic Mantra) puts all the pieces into a coherent whole. For whatever coherence is present, this is still a deeply adventurous, genreless, psych-damaged, electronics-rich album with enough twists and left turns to hogtie any attempts to pigeonhole it. My favorite songs, "Drummy" and "World i," are lush, heavy meditations on a single theme, driven forward by Gallego's nimble drum patterns and padded with enough synths to glide smoother than a limousine, even where blasts of white noise and black metal vocals come in. Then there's "Liv," in which Happy Songs For Happy People-era Mogwai splits open to reveal a warped vision of '00s dance-punk, or "Junk Corrido," where what sounds like a Goblin track falls off a cliff into eerie ambience, complete with thin, shallow woodwind exhalations. The album can feel just as impenetrable as it is approachable, but all the pieces fit, even where they normally wouldn't, a credit to the production of Gallego and Seth Manchester. Whether you're interested in pulling the million audio-instrumental threads stuffed into Grim Iconic (Sadistic Mantra) or you, like me, just want to listen to "Party People (Heaven)" at maximum volume and never leave its luscious confines, it's one of the year's must-hear records, and one that's scarcely left my listening rotation for months.

Jim Marlowe, Mirror Green Rotor in Profile CS (Medium Sound) From way back in January, a second solo cassette release from Louisville's most active musician, he of Sapat, Equipment Pointed Ankh, Tropical Trash, and now a member of Ryan Davis' Roadhouse Band. Where Time Out on the Miracle Index (Haha Tapes, 2022) veered more toward drone and ambient, Mirror Green Rotor in Profile triangulates on the surface somewhere between Vince Guaraldi, ZNR when they let their guard down, and the oft-orchestra'd crescendos of 00's indie. The latter is woven into a decidedly psychedelic tapestry, stripped of its sometimes embarrassing vocals and melodrama, revealing the many moving parts and layers intertwined and churning beneath. Hooks seem to fall right out of Marlowe's brain and hands, augmented by tumbling drums and hammered piano and a litany of other instruments I'm doomed to misidentify. The tracks that jump out on early listens, like "Imaginate Me" and "64 Deluxe: Plank Ring," are inventive and cartoonish like the cover art, both music and art reminiscent of animation for children from the '60s and '70s. The more pensive moments ("Bud Morton's All Gone," "Pink Rotor Mist") feel no less bright and vivid, the rich, warm percussion-heavy sound stringing together the short vignettes. The noted lack of cynicism, dropped in favor of a bright, punchy sound, shows where Marlowe contributes to Equipment Pointed Ankh, and anyone who liked either or both of their albums last year ought to be right at home on MIrror Green Rotor in Profile. The rest'll find something to hang their hat on across the albums 30 minutes, as these quick, unassumingly busy tracks reward both cursory and repeat listens. My favorite cassette of the year so far.

Mordecai, Seeds From the Furthest Vine LP (Petty Bunco) Sixth LP from America's finest purveyors of lo-fi scuzzy jangly rock, and if you thought they'd clean up with age, breathe a sigh of relief. The band has regrouped to deliver their best and most enjoyable LP yet, even with its members now spread out worldwide, far from their Montana roots. Seeds From the Furthest Vine eschews any crisp production techniques, arriving instead chock full of vocals that sound as if they were recorded through an oscillating fan, cardboard box drums, and guitar solos that wriggle violently like eels out of the players' grasp. While sonic similarities to their forebears can be spotted - Rep/Shepard/Jay, early Pavement, and a splash of the Galbraith/Russell corner of the NZ underground - there simply aren't many groups left that sound like Mordecai, let alone deliver on the promise of that suite of influences. Peep how the soft jangle of "Oval Door" collides with the sharp, clattering noise of "Meat on a Stick," or how the piercing woodwind of "Seeds From the Furthest Vine Pt. II" presages the Fall-indebted blare of "Never Get Ahead." Then there's the audacious seven minutes of garbage heap clang and manic vocals on "Down In an Alley," delivered over a warm harmonium and serving as the speaker-crackling comedown on a rather brilliant album. While it can sound like the group records spontaneously, using whatever means at hand when the situation demands it, the fact that the whole record flows effortlessly belies a logic behind the album's construction. The fragments of lyrics I can make out indicate a thoughtful, poignant core, roughed up and resilient, though more often they're buried and indecipherable ("When You Know Them As"). Vocals are an instrument, too, so whether you're comfortable with that fact or not, Seeds From the Furthest Vine's a winner, capable of floating on the fringes of your consciousness as much as it is enveloping it like a rough wool blanket.

Negative Gears, Moraliser LP (Static Shock) Second record from Sydney's Negative Gears, arriving after five long years, and it couldn't be more suited to the moment. The band sits within the dark grooves laid down by Crisis, Siekiera (both mentioned by the label) or Juju, fleshing that framework out with multiple guitars, keyboards and vocals dripping with contempt. They frame the moment through a psychological lens, lending fresh eyes to all the seemingly unsolvable problems everyone acknowledges: crushing workloads, social media-begotten loneliness, and keeping up appearances that everything's fine through it all. While their sound is certainly of a contemporary Australian lineage (equal parts Total Control, Constant Mongrel and Low Life), they keep it fresh and stand out on their own by bringing wild energy to the topics at hand, eyes bulging through the swelling, driving noise on "Room With a Mirror" and "Lifestyle Damages." Moraliser's catchy as hell in spite of its lyrical evisceration of society, late-stage capitalism and themselves, which they cover right off with "Negative Gear." Despite the dour topics tackled, there's an undeniable itchiness and movement about these songs; you could probably dance to "Ants" or "Connect," and I imagine they'll be crowd favorites in no time, tightly wound construction leading to anthemic release. Even though the music might lend itself to movement, there are long, moody tails at the end of each side to drive home the real state of things, conjuring visions of empty city streets, drizzle, wet trash rolling around, the unavoidable mess humans leave when they're gone. The earth will be fine even if we won't, and it's hard not to have some optimism about younger generations' action and impact, but on days when it feels like all's lost, Moraliser is the album to lean on.

Vampire, What Seems Forever Can Be Broken LP (Televised Suicide) It's been a bumper crop year for bands on the Amebix-Rudimentary Peni sound axis, and amongst the bunch that I've heard, Vampire's What Seems Forever Can Be Broken stands tall as my favorite. Any fan of Death Church is gonna find a lot to like here: tom drums pound, the bass threads vicious lines around each hit, and the guitar’s a distorted buzz saw. Where Vampire really distinguish themselves is their vocals, placed right up front and enunciated clearly despite the rage and bile bubbling underneath. Sounds like each of the three members takes turns, but the feral gnashing and their more melodic foil are the two vocalists that make the most appearances. The best vocal performance has to be the opening verse on "Endless Chain," where it sounds like the one vocalist is chewing off and spitting out each syllable, blood dripping from the corners of their mouth. "The Letter" is another standout, a disarming takedown of shamers and abusers set to an absolutely bulldozing riff. The band keeps things trim, with most songs snuffed out after two minutes, and that extends to the lyrics, too: “We’re looking for a future/there’s nothing to hold” hits the nail. There's a respect for their anarcho forebears, but Vampire veers slightly more toward hardcore, except with audio so crisp you can feel the sweat and spit coming out of the speakers. The production allows tracks like "Human Market Capital" to hit that much harder, all tightly wound tension and release squeezed inside 90 seconds. Gotten a ton of mileage out of What Seems Forever Can Be Broken, as much of an adrenaline boost and it is an unfortunate reflection of our current moment. Apropos now, and probably forever.

Weak Signal, Fine LP (12XU) If there is one band you should hear this year, it's Weak Signal, the quietly prolific trio from NYC. Fine already feels like a future classic, the kind of record that I listen to multiple times a day and still find more time to listen to again. The trio is brutally efficient: drums hammer rudimentary patterns, locked down by the bass, and the guitar chugs along with crunchy, muted notes and chords until a solo breaks free. The band's lyrics and Bones' straight, baritone delivery cut to the quick with the bite of Denis Johnson, unpretentious sentiments that are washed and tumbled from half-a-lifetime of experience, as cynical and biting as they are heartbreaking in their economy. They can cut both ways at once, like "I only love my friends/that's why I leave them be" from "Baby," or the chorus to "Wannabe," where Bones manages to sound both at peace and deflated. They even reach for a bit of unapologetic hedonism on "Rich Junkie" and all without a whiff of condescension, a fleeting thought given space and squashed in the span of two minutes. The lyrical efforts would all be for naught if the music wasn't up to snuff, but the band has doubled down on their streamlined grunge sound, excess grime wiped clean and even given a bit of polish with acoustic guitar and mellotron accents. There are blasts of noise that open up each side of the record, rock star moves from a group that deserves to make 'em, but they're tamped down in favor of choruses and guitar lines that both stick in your craw. The combination of the music and lyrics connects in such a primal, satisfactory way that it's almost beyond words, but when the solo on "Disappearing" hits, or "A Little Hum" leaves you with a lump in your throat, you just know this is it. Feels like a big moment for a band that deserves a bit of recognition - a fact wryly acknowledged by Bones a few times on the album - and here's hoping Fine is the album that does it.

[hopusthebrainlessfloof]

December 25th

Today's question is: What is the ttue meaning of Christmas?

Getting together with those that you love. Showing your love and appreciation for those people, even if it is just yourself or a pet. Gifts are nice, but in it's simplest form, Christmas is all about love and the joy of the ones you love being with you.

Today's song is "Christmastime is Here" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio!

(Listen to the whole list here!)

Hoppy Holidays! I love you all so much ♥️ Have a great day!!