#bluegrass today

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland - “Bluegrass in the Backwoods”

They’re fiddlers. But Jason Carter and Michael Cleveland are also smart musicians and they know better than to hog all the “Bluegrass in the Backwoods.”

So while the principals spend plenty of time sawing away on their new Kenny Baker cover, they leave ample room for mandolin, banjo and guitar solos in the nearly five-minute instrumental.

The track follows “Give it Away” and “Outrun the Rain” from Carter and Cleveland’s forthcoming, as-yet-untitled, joint LP.

It’s an uptempo rendering - one that begs the listener into motion as the full band - including Carter’s fellow Travelin’ McCourys Alan Bartram on (bass) and Cody Kilby (guitar) plus Casey Campbell (mandolin) and Cory Walker (banjo) - plays under the banner of two fiddlers.

“(They) absolutely crushed it,” Cleveland tells Bluegrass Today.

“I couldn’t be happier with how our arrangement turned out - it’s such a blast, with everyone taking blistering solos.”

Perhaps that’s why the duo left the sound of studio laughter at the end of the track. It fits.

Grade card: Jason Carter & Michael Cleveland - “Bluegrass in the Backwoods” - A

12/12/24

[kingofthewilderwest]

Bill Monroe challenges Mcgucket to a dueling banjo session. Who wins?

XD Here goes an unnecessarily detailed answer, as one might expect from me.

Father of Bluegrass Bill Monroe (1911-1996) was a virtuosic mandolinist (also no slouch on guitar) who incorporated fiddling influences into his playing. Rather than an old-style shimmering tremelo, Bill Monroe attacked the strings in an impressive combination of rhythmic adroitness and dogged melody. His playing had rhythmic quirks bluegrass mandolinists tease on today, but I think it augments rather than detracts from his iconic sound.

Historically speaking, Monroe stepped the game up for virtuosity in American country music. Even when he was in his twenties, performing duos and trios with his brothers on the radio in a more old-time style, his technical alacrity caught attention. Monroe fashioned bluegrass with blues and even jazz influences, such as the idea of instrumentalists taking turns doing technical instrumental breaks, one after the other. Thus, not only did he have to be at a high standard, but he pushed everyone in his band to match it. This man regularly performed hundreds of songs at a whim with good ear and improv ability.

Now, Fidds, my beloved... how does he compare? We hear relatively little of Fiddleford McGucket's banjo picking in Gravity Falls. What information we could glean is contradictory due to animation and sound design inaccuracy. I apologize for upcoming jargon, but I'll explain. ;)

McGucket owns multiple banjos. All banjos he's owned lack planetary tuners, which tends to indicate a low-cost banjo beginners and non-serious players use. However, given as McGucket has dedicatedly played banjo since at least the 1970s, and is dedicated enough to own a collection, this suggests a more invested player. (Of course, you can play for years and be passionate and still suck, but there's a higher chance you're good, hah!) Looking at the meta context, the animators would have no idea they were connotating lower-end instruments, so let's go with writing intent: McGucket is the banjo guy playing with love and passion for decades.

McGucket is most often seen with open-backs, but also has had a Seeger (long-neck) banjo and a resonator. Open-back and Seeger banjos suggest McGucket plays in the old-time style, which is (often) based on repeated rhythms and chords. That we've never seen Fiddleford McGucket wear finger picks also matches old-time. Now, I love old-time, it's gorgeous. But. Old-time banjo doesn't... shred... so in a dueling session, this would be trumped by Monroe's more advanced approach.

On the other hand, McGucket has a resonator. Resonator banjos can and have been used for old-time styles, but in general: if you have a resonator, you're a three-finger style bluegrass picker. This is a very different technique than old-time and will start to put McGucket in the competition. It's also said in Journal 3 he loves listening to high-intensity bluegrass, and when we hear sound clips of McGucket playing, it's in the three-finger bluegrass style. They animate him wrong to be making those sounds, but those are the sounds they're evoking. So, given animation is always inaccurate depicting instruments and performance, bluegrass is the genre associated most directly with McGucket, the animators and maybe even composer might've had no knowledge of old-time and its sounds, and the soundtrack always evokes bluegrass-style banjo... the Gravity Falls team probably wanted to indicate McGucket played bluegrass-style banjo.

I'm not on a computer with speakers to listen to McGucket playing, but I distinctly remember A Tale of Two Stans. I can and have played that riff. I'll transcribe (more or less) it by memory rn.

McGucket is approximately playing the first few measures of Foggy Mountain Breakdown with the barcodes pulled off. He starts with the Foggy Mountain roll on a G chord, then descends to do a forward roll on an e minor chord. Without jargon, this means he's playing two very simple right hand patterns. These patterns are ones a baby banjo picker would learn in their first month playing.

And that's exactly what happened when you know how the soundtrack developed! Gravity Falls' composer learned some banjo for GF. He's doing what I would... learn baby-baby basics so you can record an instrument live. But this means that, because he learned juuuust enough to get the banjo sound in GF (S1 banjo sounds worse than S2 because of this learning curve, too), he can't depict McGucket as a skilled picker. He does an impressive job with the above measures given his inexperience (the tone is better than I'd expect), but the material itself is rudimentary.

Contrast this with Bill Monroe in one of his beloved instrumentals, Southern Flavor (he is the mandolinist who starts the song, first soloist):

Given what Gravity Falls put in the show, McGucket wouldn't stand a chance against Monroe. McGucket wouldn't get hired by Monroe. Obviously we have to do legwork to go beyond imperfect depictions - the limited knowledge and playing ability of animators and composer - so it's very fair to say McGucket is better than anything presented. But, even then, he's got zero shot competing against a professional who expanded virtuosity of a music style and forced musicians around him to get up to his level. Bluegrass had come into its own and many, many, many amateur players were playing breathtakingly by the 1960s and 1970s. But you ain't gonna beat the master who got 'em all there.

[acelor-acetaylorswift]

I'm a simple woman.

All I ask is that, some day, before I die, I get to hear Taylor, Lana, and Julianne Hough sing "(I've got spurs that) Jingle, Jangle, Jingle" in a round together.

That's all.

[thaliagrayce]

everyone should go listen to the album Wu Fei & Abigail Washburn and feel connected to the world

[4guysonehead]

We love listening to music and thinking about each other, best part about headspace is being able to dance around with and sing to each other and daydream together

-lee, listening 2 dear arkansas daughter trust me and listen sure its half about your love for somebody dying but thats what happwns every time i fuck w dee too hard and then we gotta resurrect his love for me its a whole thing but leotello ftw baby love you donton luv uuuu deedeeeee mi cielooooooo mi amorrrrrrrrrr

[analyticallymindedaa]

ik i haven't really been here lately and will continue to not be here this weekend bc it's the weekend of the big local music festival and i am Vibing

[avatar-aaang]

once again, coworker has fantastic music taste lmao

[the-inkwell-variable]

Hi! I'm Kit, and my penname is Talia Wynters (she/they). I'm absolutely dying for people to interact with my stuff, and then I realized -- I don't have an introduction page! Let's fix that, shall we?

I write mainly horror, fantasy, and romance. I also write fluff, though I'm not very good at it - forgive me!

MY CURRENT WIPS ARE:

why should i be careful? i'm going to die anyway! - - - zombie horror novel, rated r

the zombie apocalypse has literally crashed through her friend's front door, and aura could not be more excited. she's been obsessed with the genre since she was a teen - she's literally living in one of her favorite movies now! but there's a problem. aura has a severe heart condition that leaves her winded after a brief walk - no survival crew worth their salt is going to let her suck up their resources, no matter how knowledgeable on their situation she is. well, screw it. she's going to die anyway. may as well go out with a bang, right? she's going to have fun in the zombie apocalypse. after all, why should she be careful? she's going to die anyway!

dauntless - - - zombie horror novel, rated r

as a strange illness sweeps the nation, ashlee bennett finds herself quarantined in ground zero: bluegrass, kansas. can she escape the walls to untold dangers without? does she even want to?

priestess without honor - - - paranormal fantasy romance, rated pg-13

In the land of Tykra, werewolves cannot bear children. There are no female werewolves, and normal humans cannot survive the strain of carrying a pup. In desperation, the wolf clans turned to the Sisters of the Silver Thread, and a pact was made.

Astaria is a Sister reaching the end of the spell that allows her to carry pups. She hasn't been Chosen, and this will be her last Ceremony. If she isn't Chosen by the Alpha or his Beta today, she will be severed from magic forever and sent to be the Keeper of a small remote village.

Dom is the fresh Alpha of Thorny Claws, the largest pack in Tykra. He doesn't want to get married or to have pups, but the pack will evict him if he doesn't. Frustrated with his Fate, he arrives at the Sisters' castle to pick up his preselected mate, Aspen.

But Fate has other plans, and Aspen does not take kindly to being the second choice...

chosen without honor - - - mafia romance, rated pg-13

Lilly needs a job. Any job. She doesn't look back when a sketchy restaurant offers her a position as a waitress, even as it becomes increasingly clear that she's now working for the mafia. What she doesn't expect is to catch the eye of Lino, the don's son. What she expects even less is to find herself swept up in a torrid affair with him in the very restaurant that employs her. When she discovers his biggest secret, she is heartbroken. Will she turn her back on the man she loves most, or will she fight to reclaim what she has decided is hers and no other's?

the corpse and the killer - - - batman/train to busan fanfiction, rated r

𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘮 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

MY CURRENT OC's!

kia marie flaye - - - rambunctious, stubborn, and a damn good mechanic, kia grew up on the streets of gotham city after being orphaned by two-face. she works for both penguin and black mask, bouncing between their odd jobs and strange demands. she doesn't care about batman, just like he doesn't care about her and her people in the slums.

ashlee bennett - - - after a failed college career and an even shorter marriage, ashlee was too exhausted to care that she needed to move back to bluegrass, kansas. she lives with her sister, ana, and ana's four children, and works at the clinic, where the doctor just so happens to be her boyfriend. but things are about to go absolutely sideways as a new disease sweeps through town, taking normal with it...

kira leonore - - - the last leonin of ycaea (and damn good at hiding it thanks to granny's little charm), kira is an ice mage that grew up in the wild untamed ruins of the former, forest-overgrown country of ycaea. she spends her life tending to the few villagers that remain scattered through the forests and running from the inquisitors that hunt witches like her.

tiatha y'l'nyx - - - tiatha was sold as a child to the inquisition of the topaz star, in exchange for the order to stay out of the drow lands. gregorious, the head of the order, experimented on her, twisting her body to its limits and torturing her until her mind snapped. now she serves as his right hand, overseeing the inquisitors' duties and searching for more mages to subjugate.

xaente marlowe - - - an inquisitor of the topaz star, she is quite happy with her lot in life. she gets to hunt the scum of the earth - mages who do not submit to the order's rule - and use her own intrinsic magical powers as she pleases. what more could a girl want?

neia silverthorne - - - a lord of the rings AU elf! a thousand years ago, she and 99 other children, including her older brother, were taken in a massive raid by dol guldur. she and six others were the only survivors - and as time crept steadily on, the others died as well. a hundred years ago, she was kidnapped - err, reclaimed by the elves and has been relearning how elven society works against her will. she's very cranky about this.

amara - - - i created her for legends of avantris's once upon a witchlight but i can't bring myself to interject her in their shenanigans even for my own amusement, so here you go! she is half-tiefling, half-drow - she looks like a drow, save for a long tail and curved gray horns. as a teenager, she accidentally killed a matron's daughter and was forced to flee to the surface, where she was taken in by a certain carnival as both a secretary and a smaller act. she is quite skilled with shadows and illusions. she cannot lie with her words to save her life, but she absolutely can cook the books and spread falsehoods through writing and illusion images.

astaria - - - astaria is a witch with seemingly no magic. she fully expected to be sent away to be a keeper of a random village on the outskirts of tykra, but it seems fate had other plans. now she is keeper to a werewolf/shifter pack and the shy wife of the alpha himself. she struggles with self esteem issues thanks to her lack of magic and is terrible at hiding it.

ask me any questions! send me ask games! please scoob i'm dying

[jeyneofpoole]

No fr I’m a bi Appalachian woman and if mf want me out of here they’re gonna have to kick me out. Why do I have any less right to try and make my home the place I want it to be than shitheads who have never step foot below the mason dixon? Obv today was a big loss for us but I do not believe that this is the end. I’m thinking about you today and I know bluegrass women are facing a nightmare but it’s not going to be the end of us 💕

thank you 🫶

[mick1976]

It’s Saturday…again

3 weeks post knee surgery and I’m beginning to question my life choices. Things are getting better but it’s a slow painful process.

Cold enough to build a fire in the fireplace this morning. Building a fire means flipping two switches and watching a perfect fire come alive. My unicorn watch said it was 48 outside so that means fireplace time.

No soccer today but there is afternoon baseball so I’ll have something to watch from my recovery recliner.

I have Bluegrass music on the speaker box. I think my Bluegrass Era is about to end. Nice while it lasted.

I hope you have a great Saturday!

[keeksandgigz]

more eddie thoughts (they’re fluffy with a bit of angst); minors dni anyway pls <3

ok so i see sometimes eddie being written as super romantic like number one boyfriend of the year.

and yeah he’s a good boyfriend, but this kid has never had like a true reference of what actual love looks like bc yk his mom died and al is a piece of shit.

anyways so he doesn’t really know how to express his feelings when it comes to love because of how he grew up and how he was treated even at school. kid didn’t have a good support system outside of yk hellfire and even then it’s a different type of love.

so when he starts dating you he’s kind of stumbling in the dark for most of the beginning of it. and you understand because he’s never actually dated anyone (because he thought he was incapable of being loved)but you’re taking your time with him and helping him figure out what a real and loving relationship is supposed to look like.

and it’s been a few weeks and you still haven’t said the big l bomb yet, but you’re sure you love him and he’s sure he loves you but he doesn’t know how to say it.

so one day you’re back at his trailer, just spending time together, yk getting high listening to music (not much else to do in the 80s) and he’s asking you to put a record on while he’s rolling a joint for you two to share. and your eyes fall on the first record in his pile, which is “sabbath bloody sabbath.” you don’t know better so you put it on while he lights the joint for you.

by the time you get to that third track, “fluff” which is just guitars and piano and nothing else, you’re both blissfully high. he’s nuzzled into your neck, enjoying the state you’re in, lulled by soft skin and sweet perfume.

he feels protected, guarded. soft hums escape both your mouths, while the forgotten joint rests on an ashtray on his bedside table. a soft lullaby in the background, one eddie had forgotten about, because it was often not his speed.

but the song plays and he’s sure you’re about to fall asleep. it’s like a lullaby, and he’s sure he’s never felt more at peace before. you glowing in the dim light of the small window in his room, a soft smile pressed on your lips.

you cradle his head in the blissful haze of your high, and he’s sure he’s never felt like that before. like you’re a warm blanket over his heart, like the warm glow of a candle in a dark and cold room. you really are a warm glow.

so he nudges you, and you open your eyes from your daze. neither one of you had spoken for the past 20 minutes, ever since the weed hit. eddie breaks the silent vow.

“you know how i’m not good with, y’know, words?” he mumbles, soft and a bit insecure against your skin.

you nod your head, a humming sound following it.

“and i really enjoy spending my time with you, like, i’m always saying that we could be spending the rest of our lives here just doing this over and over and over” he rambles, the high getting to him.

you smile, he’s really not good with words.

“and it’s funny you picked this album today, out of all the albums i have. because my dad would play it often, and i remember when i was like four- and i don’t even know how i remember this because i probably do have some memory loss because i probably fell and hit my head too many times as a kid- and it feels funny that i remember this, like some kind of irony” he continues.

you just lay there, playing with his hair as he rests on your chest, nodding along to his stoned ramble

“but i remember my parents dancing to this, like one night my dad played this album instead of my mom’s bluegrass ones, and she protested ‘cause she didn’t want this kinda music so late. something about me not being able to sleep” he toys with the hem of his shirt, he’s nervous. your heart shrinks.

“but this song comes on, and my dad grabs my mom’s hand and they just start dancing in the middle of the kitchen, while i’m just doing god knows what. but that’s one of my few memories of them actually liking each other.” he sighs, you’re still wondering what his point is.

“and i don’t wanna be like my dad, but this song is just, god, it’s really what it feels like to be with you, like this” he says, gesturing at his room, at you, at the roach on the ashtray.

you gasp because that’s the most he’s ever been able to express, and he’s all flushed, because the mask is off, and now you know he loves you. and a smile creeps up your lips, because this boy everyone thinks is the devil incarnate is actually the most genuine and lovable man in this town. and you love him.

and, apparently, he loves you too.

[insomniac-arrest]

I was today years old when I learned that lawn grass (Kentucky bluegrass) flowers and blooms when its allowed to grow

[kemptyrian]

The Crimson Soldier

This is my very first fic that I have wrote and decided to post so please be kind. I am still working on the rest of the story with the help of @greynatomy ! I will slowly figure out how to make this way more appealing as I go, but I hope you enjoy my OC story!

Aleksandra Zaitseva POV

The subtle rumble of the concrete around me startles me awake. I jump off my bed, if you can even call it that, and immediately stand at attention by the rusty cell door ready for my orders to come. My mind is groggy, slow to pick up on all of the noises around me. The frantic shouting and clear gunfire in the distance sets me on edge, along with the frantic blaring alarm and flashing lights that make their rounds around the compound walls. The smell of old blood and musty linen is a clear reminder of where I am.

“It’s never been this close,” comes the smooth Sokovian voice from the cell across from me. His striking white hair stands out from the darkness of the cellblock around us, along with his slightly hardened eyes staring me down. I subtly agree with a small nod of my head but dont break from my stance ready for the words to come through the speaker in the upper left corner of my cell. I can hear the smooth almost featherlight footsteps of his twin sister in the cell beside me pacing, informing me of her worry.

“багровый солдат, готовый подчиниться?” The voice crackles out my Russian orders with the slightest German accent from the speaker. (Crimson Soldier, ready to comply?)

“Готовый подчиниться!” I announce back with a firmness that usually makes people cower back from me, but his eyes almost soften from across the hall, when looking into my darkened bluegrass eyes. I quirk my head to the side. ‘Why is he looking at me like that?’ (Ready to comply!)

The clang of the cell door unlocking is the last sound to reverberate through the hall before my echoing marching footsteps are met with another much louder set that comes up beside me as we rush off to the armory not too far away. Karpov. He’s never far from my side when I am called upon for any task at hand. They don't call him my handler for nothing. My status as his protégé never falters from the back of my mind.

The banging of the steel door against the concrete wall almost sets me into a trance-like state as I fall into my pre-fight routine. I check all my knives and daggers for sharpness quickly but efficiently akin to someone who has been doing this their whole life. I make use of this fleeting time to properly strap on my dual lower back holster for my daggers as to maximize my carrying capacity for my preferred method of fighting - close combat has and will always be what I am best at with my shorter stature and heightened quickness.

As I holster all of my throwing knives along with my twin daggers securely within their proper confines on my Hydra uniform I hear the gruff clearing of a throat. I don’t turn towards him, already knowing what’s coming next. It’s become a part of this routine as well. I still slightly tilt my head in his direction as I insert my coms device into my ear.

“Make sure to grab a gun this time!” He nearly scolds me as I move away from the racks of weapons to approach my many pieces of protective equipment. I quickly pull on my mask that covers the bottom half of my face along with my goggles whilst narrowing my eyes at him.

“We both know I wont use it no matter if it's on my person or not so don't push my buttons today!” I growl at him, my thick Russian accent that has never softened over the time I’ve been away. He raises a single eyebrow at me before we both rush out and race up the steps to the control room. Why must he insist I add the extra weight of something that in addition needs extra magazines which would also only add to the overall amount of equipment I already carry? I don’t use them, I have never used them. I am just as deadly if not more without the use of such weapons.

“Багровый солдат! Protect the scepter at all costs!” I hear yelling from across the room as we both come to a halt. I give a slight nod of my head. The shouting of other commands followed but never directed towards me. I find it odd that I was given a command without hearing his name alongside mine. I am never sent out alone! I do an about face and reach for the handle of the door when I feel the cold metal of his arm grab my shoulder and pull me back suddenly. (Crimson soldier!)

“Why is she being sent without me! I am her handler and have not given my final-” Karpov shouts but is interrupted by the guns pointed at him suddenly from everyone around us. I quickly stifled my small reactions that nearly slipped from my emotionless mask I was trained to keep.

“Солдат. Did you just question my direct order?” It comes out unnervingly calm but I quickly understand what is about to happen. I forcefully shove his hand off me, brush my uniform down from the vice grip he had on me and give a quick firm salute to Strucker and leave the room as abruptly but calmly as possible.

If I wouldn’t have had my goggles on they would have seen my eyes widen just a small fraction before I squashed my feelings and regained my neutral mask. If they had been able to see this they would have found out that my last wipe didn’t work as they had hoped it would. I was almost caught! How could I let all those years of training and torture almost go to waste over him losing his cool? That was the closest I have come to outing myself and my failed memory wipe.

My pace never falters as I push through the masses of soldiers rushing to get to their positions. Every corridor I pass I feel the near undetectable quickening of my heart rate. The heavy smell of gunpowder and smoke fills my mask the lower I get in the compound. Such a familiar and almost calming smell to my already over heightened senses. I push all other thoughts to the back of mind and force myself to settle into my routine. I cannot let 23 years of training go to waste over a day like today!

My pace slightly quickens when I am at the lowest level of the base closest to the hidden room where we keep our most valuable items we have acquired over the years. As I approach the hidden door, I thoroughly check to make sure no one sees me slip into the pitch black hall that leads to the main lab. The small pressure release I hear calms my nerves even more. No one else has been here yet which means I hold the element of surprise. As the passageway closes firmly behind me I run my calloused fingers through my short darkened blond hair and push out a quiet sigh.

I quickly right myself and finish my march through the rock tunnel to the lab where I immediately stand guard in a shadowed corner where I know I am well hidden, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Every second that ticks by feels like hours of waiting with how hard my heart has started beating in my chest. The thickening of the dust kicking up in the room from the heaving shaking of the concrete is making my task of staying hidden more difficult with the slow build up accumulating upon my uniform, but I know what awaits me if I fail.

I hear what sounds like a turret firing not far in the distance and know that someone is closing in on my position. I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath and focus on the things I can feel happening around me. As I am getting a better grip on my rising anxiety my coms crackle in my ear for the first time since my activation today. My body suddenly runs cold when I hear Strucker's voice.

“Багровый солдат!” He gruffly announces slightly out of breath. (Crimson Soldier!)

“Сзр!” I state more firmly than I thought I could at this moment. (Sir!)

“Отступайте, чтобы перевезти зимнего солдата!” He announces with some force while I hear gunshots ringing out in the background. (Fall back to transport the Winter Soldier!)

“Понял, сзр!” I state with as much conviction as I can muster in this moment. I quickly leave my corner and march my way into the blackened hall where I rush through the opening and push my way through the crowding halls to the transport vehicles at the far back of the compound. I know I have a severely limited amount of time before anything gets more out of hand than it already is. (Understood, Sir!)

As I rush to the only partially occupied vehicle; I am instructed to drive the transport to our nearest base of operations and deliver the asset untouched. I know this is my only chance I will get to be able to go through with my plan of escape that I have been working on in my head since I can remember. I feel as if everything around me has slowed to almost a full stop as I enter the driver's seat. I feel the sweat start to form on my brow as the reality of the situation has started to settle with the rumbling of the engine. I have one shot at this, otherwise the consequences will be severe.

[supercantaloupe]

Sleepover Saturday: what drives you to play an instrument?

It’s probably joy, but I want to hear more details that that :)

For me, percussion is like being the mechanic of the band/orchestra what with all the weird stands and usually having too many parts for however many percussionists there are

i think when i was younger it was sheer curiosity? it's hard to pin it down. i've always been kind of magnetically attracted to instruments and just sort of jumped at any opportunity to play them, whether that be in elementary school music class to piano lessons to worming my way into the circle of old farts playing bluegrass together in the park on a weekend

and then i grew up and went to college. ultimately i gave up a lot of the instruments i used to play for various reasons and just stuck with oboe/english horn as my main (with piano and voice as somewhat distant secondaries). and like, the thing w/ playing in orchestra and being in music school is that you are really immersed in a world where music performance is kind of a given, it's just a fact of life, so if you're gonna live there for any amount of time and enjoy it, you have to find some reason to stick with it so that you don't burnout (because it is a LOT of, at times quite demoralizing, work). and i'll be honest, on its own, there isn't a ton about the oboe that inherently makes me like playing it? i'm so very shit at motivating myself to hit the practice room and do etudes and scales and long tones and all that guff, and if i'm being honest i kind of haven't done that since undergrad. but i still try to play regularly, i still want to play, and i still enjoy it -- just not locked in a little room all by myself.

now as an adult/semi professional musician, i definitely still play out of love for the art, but also the community of it, and a sense of, like, being useful. like, before i was anything else i was a pianist, but by high school i was mostly an accompanist rather than a soloist, and today i'm far more an ensemble player than a soloist (now i've shifted focus to almost solely oboe/english horn). and that's something that i've come to realize is a huge part of it for me -- i feel comfortable in a community of musicians, and i enjoy collaborating with them to make music. i am not particularly adept at playing solo, nor do i particularly enjoy it/am particularly comfortable with it. music is a social outlet for me, and while it definitely is a ton of work, i enjoy getting to put in that work for other people, and be supported by other people putting in work around me, and it all goes to a common goal. when i was younger i use think i hated group projects because i always got stuck doing all the work for everyone i got assigned to work with who didn't give a damn, but when i started playing in orchestra regularly i realized i actually love working in groups -- as long as everyone else knows what their part of the job is and fulfills it. i love getting to be a part of that, of doing my part of the group's work, that no one but me can do (well arguably any other oboist at roughly my skill level could do that, but the thing about oboists is that we're rather few and far between compared to a lot of other instruments). i like being reliable, i like doing work with and for people, i like being the guy that people will call on when they need some help with a music thing because they know they can count of me. i love feeling like i'm wanted. i love feeling like i'm part of the community. and the fact that i get to, on occasion, make some beautiful music on occasion is a real cherry on top

[ask meme]

[apexpoet]

successfully defended my thesis yesterday and today am suffering a case of the post-defense blues.. like walking through dewy bluegrass in the early morning and staying damp all day. now i’m doing the only things left.. borrow a mary hopkin record from cora’s collection, crack open a mini cranberry sprite, and recline