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briannaswords · 2 years

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Dawn & singing

Dawn didn’t sing. It was a fact just as much as ‘her hair was darker than midnight’ and ‘her eyes bore the expression of a warrior who’d fought one battle to many’. Dawn didn’t sing.

She used to. Singing used to be her favourite pastime. Her voice was lovely too: sweet and lilting and melodious. Her pleasant voice used to fill the house all the time—the house that was now quiet. Much too quiet.

Clover had loved singing too. When they were little, more often than not, she and Dawn would play at popstars, clutching hairbrushes and performing to their mirrors. This didn’t really change when they grew, apart from the fact they were singing in shows and concerts too. Dawn could remember her and Clover’s first concert perfectly. Their duet ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ had earned them a standing ovation. That had been Dawn’s favourite memory before everything changed.

But now Clover was gone. Clover was gone and Dawn’s world turned upside down. The last time she sang was at her funeral and she vowed never to do it again. How was she supposed to sing solo when she was so used to playing to the tune of a duet?

So Dawn didn’t sing. She couldn’t even speak for a long time, let alone sing. It was too noisy, too attention-grabbing, too painful. Dawn couldn’t even hear the opening chords to ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ without crying. So she shut herself away and silenced her beautiful voice.

Her father said it was a shame. “God gave you a gift. It’s not right to not utilise it.”

But Dawn didn’t care. She was too livid and wounded and conflicted to care. God had also given her Clover… and taken her back too. What was one more loss?

Her mother tried to be a bit more sympathetic. “Just because Clover can’t sing anymore, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

But that was exactly what it meant. Dawn didn’t know what to do without Clover. If Dawn now was a fireball, then her old self was glass—bright and shining at first—now crushed and broken. Dawn was still trying to figure out how to touch things without burning them, let alone try and fix the shattered shards of her old life that were once whole and promising. See, if Clover couldn’t sing, it meant that Dawn would be singing for the both of them. If she didn’t even know how to be, how to live as a person and not a raging ball of desolation and destruction, how was she supposed to sing for her sister?

A part of Dawn had died with Clover and it took her years to realise that that didn’t make her an awful person. It took her years to realise that change wasn’t always the enemy. That sometimes, stagnation was a million times more dangerous.

Music helped her the most through those dark times. Clover had made her promise to pass her Grade 5 exam on guitar, and the preparation for that made Dawn fall in love with the instrument all over again. Change may not always be bad, but Year 7 Dawn couldn’t see that and she always appreciated that her guitar stayed the same.

Her parents, seeing her growing appreciation for music, took her to see a strings performance at the Royal Albert Theatre. And for the first time in months, Dawn’s heavy heart lifted and she cheered so much her throat ached, and not in the throbbing, painful way she’d gotten used to since Clover died. This was a good thing. Music was a good thing. It felt right, so Dawn embraced it. Looking back, she thinks it’s the best decision she ever made.

Her love for music and the enchanting strings concert prompted her to pick up another musical instrument—violin. It took a lot of sweat and tears and pleading and frustration, but eventually the noises she produced from the violin were as sweet and melodious as her singing voice. Jay, her music teacher, invited her to join orchestra. She said Dawn had ‘natural talent’. Dawn smiled and claimed it was just hard work.

She’d been part of orchestra for a year and ten months when Zahra joined. Dawn had first met Zahra in the Year 7 corridor—a tightly curled ball of messy curly hair and tears. It would have been easy to walk by that forlorn girl with red eyes, to ignore her, to point and sneer. But Dawn judged as much as she sang. And she knew how far a friendly word could go.

The second time she saw Zahra, she took her up to the library and stayed there with her. Zahra stared into space and Dawn did her maths homework, but their silence was companionable. There was a connection between them, even then. Even when they were barely more than strangers.

When Zahra first joined orchestra in November, she sat next to Phoebe. Phoebe was vivacious and blithe and moaned about all the right things. She was easy to be friends with. Although it would have been easy to, Zahra didn’t forget Dawn. She still said ‘hi’ whenever they passed in the corridors, she still looked over and smiled during orchestra. It was Dawn that Zahra told about her breakup with Chris, not Phoebe. And it was Dawn she stayed up all night talking with at music camp.

Dawn inevitably grew fond of her. Zahra was a living oxymoron. She was rough, but also kind. She held grudges but was so, so forgiving with her friends. She was nowhere near as hard on other people as she was on herself. She was lion-hearted, but also so afraid of being vulnerable. One night, she whispered into the darkness of her cabin that her hot temper was what she hated the most about herself, but Dawn loved how fiercely Zahra felt. They could always make each other laugh, they built each other up, they held each other when they fell and by the end of the two weeks, they were best friends. Dawn trusted Zahra more than anyone. Was it really such a surprise that, through Zahra, Dawn found her voice again?

They started off slow. After a heated argument, which ended in a long hug and Dawn tearfully admitting the real reason she refused to sing, they took small steps. Zahra would sit on Dawn’s bed and sing along to her guitar and, after a few weeks, Dawn would hum along.

Ultimately, it wasn’t Zahra’s guitar that helped her start singing again, it was a song that Clover would always sing along to on the radio, but Zahra helped her bridge that gap and Dawn was extremely grateful.

It took her months to build up the confidence to sing in front of other people but when she did, Zahra was the first person to start cheering for her.

#my writing #bri writes #diary of a dreamer #oc: dawn #oc: clover #you taught me the courage of stars before you left

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brian-in-finance · 3 years

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It’s 1969, and the street in Northern Ireland where 10-year-old Buddy (Jude Hill) lives is bustling with kids playing soccer, neighbors running in and out of row houses, mothers chatting in doorways and calling their children in for lunch. Then a mob suddenly appears from around a corner, with masked men throwing Molotov cocktails and setting cars on fire. Everything is chaos and jittery camera movements as folks scramble. Soon, British troops are checking papers and tanks are rolling down the block. It’s ground zero for the August Riots, which would set the stage for the sectarian violence that would become synonymous with Belfast for decades. These militants want the Catholics out of this largely Protestant neighborhood. They will burn every shop and home to the ground if they have to.

Buddy’s family is Protestant. His dad (Jamie Dornan) works in England, however, and has no issue with those of another faith — which makes the whole clan a target. It also takes him away from the family a lot, much to consternation of Buddy, his brother, and his long-suffering mom (Outlander‘s Catríona Balfe). Luckily, the lad has support from his grandparents (Ciarán Hinds and Dame Judi Dench), who, when they aren’t affectionately bickering with each other, counsel Buddy about how to woo the brainy girl he has a crush on. An older friend, Moira (Lara McDonnell), teaches him how to nick chocolate bars from the sweets shop. Star Trek is on TV, One Million Years B.C. is playing at the Saturday matinee picture show, blue-eyed Celtic soul is on every jukebox, and a man just landed on the moon. Life is beautiful, until it isn’t. Belfast is Buddy’s kingdom, his safe place, until it can’t be any longer.

Belfast, Kenneth Branagh’s semi-autobiographical tale of growing up in late-Sixties Northern Ireland, is a major change of pace for the man who was once dubbed “the next Laurence Olivier,” and easily the best thing he’s done as a writer-director in decades. (All apologies to Hercule Poirot’s mustache.) It’s a memory piece, evoking a specific time, place, and political crisis in a way that is indelibly, achingly personal. This is the territory that the writer-director is staking out: the fertile ground where nostalgia meets history, filtered through both a boy’s eyes and an older man’s memory banks. It’s a look back in anger, for sure — but it also revisits the moment when the gates of Eden closed behind him that’s brimming with the wistful pang you get from flipping through old photographs, each more faded from time than the last.

If you had to sum up Belfast in a single image, you could do worse than Dornan and Balfe dancing in the street with each other, smiles on their faces as familiar Irish R&B (new then, old now) plays, with the whole scene framed behind a loose wall of barbed wire. It’s a movie that very much has the Troubles in mind, but as part of a bigger picture that constitutes the filmmaker’s feelings about his hometown. The violence isn’t just background noise so much as one of the louder, more dissonant instruments in an orchestra he’s conducting. And it’s the motivating factor for the family having to contemplate leaving their community behind. Like Branagh, who moved to England with his parents and siblings when he was nine, Buddy will eventually have to say goodbye. But it’s part of the legacy of the Irish to leave anyway, as resiliency and relocation has become as associated with their culture as shamrocks and shillelaghs; as one character declares, “all [we] need to survive is a phone, a pint and the sheet music to ‘Danny Boy.'”

Cup your hands around your ears, and you’ll hear the faint sound of comparisons to Roma being whispered in the wind, partially because Belfast‘s particular mix of the past’s lighter and darker shades are reminiscent of Alfonso Cuarón’s 2018 masterpiece, and partially because Branagh’s film is also largely shot in black-and-white. (The rare uses of color are mostly reserved for the movies and plays Buddy attends; it’s an effective if heavy-handed homage to the life-changing magic of art.) You can’t say that this latest cine-memoir balances the same mixture of poetry and memoir as deftly as that earlier film; few movies could. But it knows how to find and hit the emotional sweet spots, from the agony of nationalist strife and the ecstasy of Buddy’s parents lip-syncing “Everlasting Love” at a wake. Even viewers who don’t feel their buttons being pushed — or rather, mashed — by the soundtrack cues (there are so, so, so many Van Morrison songs), period details and the Hinds-Dench version of these guys will find themselves drawn in by the heartstrings Branagh is plucking here. Some viewers in particular, likely of the Academy-voting persuasion. We aren’t saying Belfast has been designed to win awards — there’s way too much of Branagh’s blood on the table for that. But its mix of gravitas, sentimentality, salty wit, tragedy, and roman à clef storytelling is most definitely Academy catnip.

It’s also a movie that can’t help overplaying its hand, which means you don’t just get a kid’s-eye view of Buddy’s Da, a larger-than-life defender of the family with a superhero jawline, standing 10 stories tall — you also see him facing down the local gangsters-turned-holy-warriors while Tex Ritter’s theme song to High Noon plays over the soundtrack. (That callback to an earlier clip of the Gary Cooper Western is a far less self-conscious reference from Branagh than, say, the Norse God on the comic book Buddy is seen reading. Ahem.) There are a handful of moments when you can sense things gliding from a child’s sense of melodrama to a moviemaker’s cup runneth over.

And yet, Belfast isn’t a work that stoops to conquer. The coming-of-age uplift rests next to the dull ache of remembrance in a manner befitting of the tale Branagh is telling. We don’t know whether Buddy will grow up to attend the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, become his generation’s premier interpreter of the Bard, and foster a career in the arts that allows him to recreate the moment his childhood innocence ended. We do know, however, that the person behind this remarkably melancholy and tender flashback has a need to tell that 10-year-old boy that everything will turn out ok in the end. And you leave the theater having felt privileged to have eavesdropped on their conversation.

A version of this review originally ran in September during our coverage of the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival.

Remember… it’s a look back in anger, for sure — but it also revisits the moment when the gates of Eden closed behind him that’s brimming with the wistful pang you get from flipping through old photographs, each more faded from time than the last.

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #BelfastMovie #Review #Rolling Stone #12 November 2021 #Belfast #Now in North America #Worldwide 2022 #Twitter

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armorsleevedsinglehit · 4 years

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the huge shippuden music meta

no one asked for this but i’m gonna write it anyway. i’m going to focus primarily on the shippuden soundtrack here, but expect some references to the original series soundtrack as well. also before i begin i know approximately two (2) music so some of my terminology is probably going to be incorrect lol, it’s been a while since college. this is a general shippuden meta but it does focus on the uchiha clan, in particular sasuke and madara.

anyway, to start off, you can pretty easily divide the shippuden soundtrack into a few general categories:

traditional and/or acoustic

electric guitar tracks

some combination of these, plus orchestra hits aplenty

there are a few odd ducks here and there, but no worries, we’ll get to them. and then within these general categories we have a series of recurring character motifs (which can be a bit muddled, because certain themes are used for multiple characters. i assume that naruto (the show) isn’t necessarily scored the way a film would be, and so the directors just slapped whatever dramatic/sad/upbeat music they could find onto a scene, esp if it’s a filler ep, which definitely generates some confusion.) but characters and groups in shippuden DO sort of get their own motifs and themes, so here is my very basic list of those as well:

uzumaki clan and its descendants/allies: “emergence of talents/hyakkaryōran” has a very cool melody towards the end that comes back in “narukami/weeping god” and “shoryu/rising dragon”. we can basically call this the protagonist theme. naruto, sakura, kakashi, jiraiya, most of the konoha 11, and even minato get to claim this one. however, VERY interestingly, narukami is what plays when tobi (as madara) is telling sasuke about the glory days of the uchiha clan... possibly hinting at greater connections between the two clans???????????

akatsuki-related themes: i won’t link a ton of these because they’re super obvious. they’re often full of choir and organ (harkening back to orochimaru’s original series theme); they also tend to be slower. not always, though; look at crimson flames, a slapper if i ever heard one. prime example of akatsuki themes: girei, my FAVORITE bit of the shippuden soundtrack. UGH.

general shippuden themes: things like hurricane suite, heaven-shaking event, etc. most of the first ost goes in here. this category also contains the closest approximation to hashirama’s theme that i could find, experienced many battles and departure to the front lines, which both make me cry lol

there are other fun little motifs and bits and bobs that appear in this soundtrack that i won’t get into here for length (remind me to talk about the angelic herald of death sometime), but it’s a remarkably cohesive piece of work to the point where it gets repetitive sometimes; why are all the super interesting tracks unreleased!!!!??? anyway the purpose of this meta is to attempt to make sense of the way this soundtrack works. we’ll investigate sasuke primarily because i feel that he really ties the whole soundtrack together, and you can extrapolate a lot from the way his theme evolves.

sasuke’s theme (wandering/hyouhaku), yes the dramatic cowboy music theme, is this wonderfully atmospheric track that makes use of the kind of negative space between guitar strums to build up this aura, this Essence of Sasuke. this alone makes it stand apart from other mostly-acoustic pieces on the soundtrack, to me. the whole thing is just humming with this simmering frustration and melancholy and it really gives you a sense of sasuke as this tortured figure who has been severely wronged and experienced the world’s faults firsthand. notably, this version of sasuke’s theme lifts its opening notes (and structure, sorta) from sasuke’s original series theme, which i assume was on purpose. it shows that he’s grown jaded as he got older, i think.

anyway, as the inevitable battle between sasuke and itachi draws closer, we get our first variation on sasuke’s theme: black spot/kokuten. it has the same melody and structure as before, but features heavier guitars, more orchestration, and, in the final bars, notes that previously fell on 1 and 4 but now fall on 1 and 3, which bring a heightened sense of urgency to the whole thing. and more importantly, it ends without resolving itself? it leaves us hanging on this almost call-and-response bit with one wailing guitar after another, before winding the orchestration down and fizzling back down to the level of “wandering.” here we see a sasuke in progress, if you will, working towards a goal that some may find sinister, but he is determined if nothing else, and the instruments match his fervor. it’s roughly analogous to “crimson flames” in terms of intensity, but it’s very distinctly Sasuke.

there are several more variations of sasuke’s theme floating around, but the next one i want to talk about is this one called “sasuke’s ninja way,” apparently, never officially released but relentlessly employed by the anime directors. it takes a more subtle turn than “black spot,” but i don’t see it as a direct sequel to “wandering” for a few different reasons. i think it represents the dilemma sasuke found himself after finally killing itachi and learning the truth about him: the realization that this whole quest for power of his was never really about revenge on one specific person, but rather about reforming the shinobi world as a whole. it’s slower than “black spot,” yet darker, more ominous; it treads the same general path as “wandering” but with added electric guitar, and, notably, choir. recall that choir is often used for themes related to the akatsuki, which i think ties in neatly with sasuke’s motivations at this point. he, like nagato before him, wants to remake the world.

the final iteration of sasuke’s theme, “sasuke’s revolution/junkyousha,” brings it all together. the akatsuki is commonly represented through choir and organ, and this theme starts out with both of these cranked up to the max. this is (pardon the pun) sasuke’s rebirth, if you will. just combine the intensity of “girei,” the anger of “crimson flames,” and the determination of “emergence of talents” and you’re there. seriously: this culmination of sasuke’s character development basically pulls from every single facet of the soundtrack and produces this MASSIVELY rich piece full of anger and rage and hate and fury, while STILL managing to include the twangy guitar bits from “wandering” (which have gone back to 1 and 4!!). we also have someone going ham on a shamisen towards the end of the track, which calls to mind the shamisen solo from “emergence of talents” and other tracks. hinting at an eventual compromise with naruto, possibly?

anyway, i started out this meta trying to find a piece of the soundtrack that could serve as madara’s theme, but i wasn’t sure that one existed. i think the susano’o has a theme, and the uchiha clan has a theme, but....madara just doesn’t?? sure there are unreleased tracks like “legendary uchiha,” but i’d argue that doesn’t really go into his character as much as it just says “watch out for this fucking guy.”

but then i listened to hurricane suite one more time, and i was like HOLY SHIT THIS IS IT. for one thing, it’s long as fuck: this track is a whole journey. it really gives the impression of someone who has lived an impossibly long life and become jaded and cruel and hardened. i realize that the argument could be made that hurricane suite is sasuke’s theme, not madara’s, or that it’s a general shippuden theme and doesn’t represent one character in particular. and yes, i think both of these interpretations are correct. hurricane suite represents what sasuke could POTENTIALLY turn out to be, given his evolution from “wandering” to “black spot” to “sasuke’s ninja way” all the way to “sasuke’s revolution.” hurricane suite warns us that sasuke can (and very well may!) make the same mistakes madara did and end up destroying himself in the process. (the middle of “hurricane suite” GREATLY resembles “wandering.”) and recall that hurricane suite is used in the very first episode of shippuden: the episode where naruto encounters sasuke for the first time, AND- are you ready for this- when madara’s name is dropped for the first time in the series.

this is why i think that, along with it being a general shippuden theme, hurricane suite is also madara’s theme. shippuden as a whole is practically suffocating under the oppressive weight of madara’s presence, right from the very first episode. even before he’s introduced, he is VERY much there. so much of madara’s character is established before he even shows up. we hear so much about him from other characters (kurama, itachi, obito, hashirama), and as such our view of madara changes drastically over the course of the series. and guess what plays when itachi shows sasuke that genjutsu of madara stealing izuna’s eyes?

anyway, in my opinion and in my interpretation of the character, the music fits him perfectly. it starts out all low and choral with these slow ominous drums and deep strings, and this violin comes in that sounds like it’s weeping. we hear something like a heartbeat that grows darker over time, before the music comes to some sort of resolution, an inflection point, and the brass comes in heavy. NOW we’re dealing with the orchestra, three quarters of the way into the song, and we’ve got strings and drums set to a marching pace, more choral chanting, climbing strings and shamisen tumbling down the scales. it sounds like grief!!

and note that yes, this track is used in the very first episode of shippuden, during naruto and sasuke’s first encounter. but it is ALSO used during the scene in hashirama’s flashback when izuna is mortally wounded and madara makes the decision to abandon the clan on the battlefield to take care of him, despite his better judgment and hashirama’s offering of peace. the inflection point in the music represents a very real inflection point in madara’s life: the loss of his last brother. (it always comes back to that, doesn’t it.)

#meta #madara uchiha #sasuke uchiha #uchiha clan #almost 2000 words churned out in one evening. [stares at fic] [sighs]#long post

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff. “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

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willsimpforanyone · 4 years

Text

TUA - Seeing you for the first time

yes i watched season 2 in one day, thank you for noticing

i’m gonna omit five unless he’s specifically requested, just so there are no issues

________________

Luther

he met you for the first time after every one of his siblings had left

he was alone at the academy, and reginald hargreeves had no mission for him that day

he’d gotten sick of wandering the halls of the academy, and for once, just to see what it was like, he decided to go out and pretend to be a normal person

no mask, no suit, no nothing

he felt guilty not telling his father about this, but continued out the door and down the road

he remembered the donut shop that he and his siblings used to go to, and by muscle memory alone, found his way into a seat

as luck would have it, he’d remembered to take money with him, and ordered a donut and a drink

just as he was taking a sip, he looked up and his eyes locked with yours and he almost choked

you were stunning- especially considering that he hadn’t interacted with many people outside of the academy for much of his life

you had your own donut, and he noticed you both had the same

there was no way he was gonna go and say hi, god knows what his father would say

oh god he shouldn’t be here, but you looked so calm in your booth, he just wanted to watch you for a while

he just wanted to be a part of your tiny bubble of normality, but he knew that would be dangerous

so he settled for glancing over at you every now and again, fascinated with your every move

Diego

diego would see you walking down the street while he was ‘on patrol’ with his stolen cop radio

you looked nervous, as it was evening time and the streetlamps were few and far between

he felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw you turn to look behind you, your face turning so he could see

in that moment, he decided he’d make sure you’d get home safe

he couldn’t let you see him, of course

he was a vigilante, a silent guardian, a man of the night

until he almost fell off the side of a roof because he was distracted, fantasising about what your eyes looked like up close

he swore under his breath when your head shot up to where he was, having heard him stumble but being unable to actually see anything

he cursed himself as he saw you grip your coat tighter around yourself and your pace pick up

he hadn’t meant to scare you further, but he continued to follow you, ensuring that there were gonna be no issues with you getting home

he even ignored a call from his stolen radio just to go with you for one more street

Allison

she’d see you when she was out with claire, being undercover in sunglasses and darker clothing

she’d promised to take her daughter to go get a dress that claire had been begging for

in stark contrast with her own outfit, you were in brighter colours, browsing the jackets a few racks over in the shop she was in

for some reason, allison could not tear her eyes away from you

you were hypnotic, even doing such a mundane action as shifting jackets across the rack

yes, she was married to patrick, and she knew this

but... she was allowed to look, right?

after all, she had no doubt that if patrick had been here, he would have been looking too

you were just... gorgeous

she allowed claire to go find the dress, allowing her a little freedom to roam the store

she knew this would inevitably lead to claire wanting more things, but it was worth it if she got to just admire you for a few minutes more, pretending to look at the skirts in front of her

eventually, she managed to work her way over to the same jacket rack you were at

your eyes flashed up for a brief second to send a quick smile her way, and allison was about to say something when she felt claire tug on her arm, and redirected her attention to her daughter

when she finally looked up again, you were gone

Klaus

he first thought you were a ghost, or maybe a hallucination brought on by whatever drug he was on at the time

he couldn’t remember

but he knew that you were one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen

he hoped to god that you weren’t a ghost, that would suck

his fears were alleviated when he saw you interact with the florist in the flowershop opposite the alleyway he was currently in

so not dead, amazing

even in his drug-induced haze, he is still attuned to the fact that he really wants to talk to you

he’s not sure how, given that he can’t walk properly as the world is swirling slightly (as ben is frequently pointing out) but that hasn’t stopped him before

he brushes off ben’s concern, and finds himself grabbing onto a couple bricks that jut out from the wall to stabilise himself

just as he takes a few steps out the alley, he sees you leaving the shop, a small selection of flowers in your hand

without the cover of the shop, you look even more stunning, a serene smile on your lips as you sniff the flowers

he thinks he shouts, he’d not sure, but he trips over his feet and end up collapsed on the concrete anyway

he knows you’ve walked off by now, and he should probably crawl back to his alley

Ben

ben is kinda used to seeing people who he’d want to talk to, but has adapted to only take a fleeting interest so he doesn’t get too hurt

however, it’s hard not to get interested when he sees you reading one of his favourite books from when he was alive

tagging along with Klaus and Allison as they search for a particular book needed by someone, he takes the time to look over the bookshelves and finds you looking at the blurb of a book he’d read many times when he was alive

he allows himself to get closer, standing maybe two feet away from you

he’s very briefly grateful that he can get so close to you without freaking you out

he sees your beautiful eyes scanning the cover, and whispers that you should buy it, he thinks you’d enjoy it

he’s shocked when you look up, turning your head to figure out where you heard very faint words from

ben takes a step back, unsure for a second if you could see him

your eyes pass through him, and for the tiniest second, your eyes meet

he catches his breath that he doesn’t have, and relishes in the moment he had of connection to a person other that klaus

you look back at the book, and nod slightly

you walk away, the book in hand, and go to buy it

he smiles, heart aching with joy at influencing someone in a positive way

Vanya

you were auditioning for a place in the same orchestra she played in

she had decided that it was a good idea to get out of her house for a while, even if she didn’t really want to

she took her pills, slipped on her boots and left the house

by muscle memory, her feet took her to the auditorium she played at, and she decided that sitting in on the auditions might provide some small change in her life

she took a seat at the back, slipping into the room silently, watching as about 4 performers came and went

she felt a tiny spark in her mind as she saw you walk out

she shifted forward slightly

you began to play, and she was instantly captivated

you were at a similar skill level to the previous players, but it was clear that you were in love with your instrument

you played with a passion that had been missing from the other performers vanya had seen

for the first time in a while, she almost felt happy, she felt calm

you finished your piece, and left the stage with the knowledge that the judges (?) would let you know if you’d gotten a place

the next few performances were a blur to vanya, she was thinking of you, gorgeous and passionate and she felt that she needed to know more

_______________

okay i feel like this was maybe garbage, but i tried and i hope y’all like it <3

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letterboxd · 3 years

Photo

Lonesome Cruiser.

Blockbuster composer Tom Holkenborg, aka Junkie XL, talks to Gemma Gracewood about composing for titans, his pride in Dutch cinema, friendship with George Miller and longing for Olivia Newton-John. Plus: his Letterboxd Life in Film and why he’s selling his prized collection of recording gear.

It has been a spectacular spring for Tom Holkenborg, the Dutch musician also known as Junkie XL, who has crafted the scores for multiplex fare such as Mad Max: Fury Road, Deadpool, Terminator: Dark Fate, Sonic the Hedgehog and the upcoming zombie banger Army of the Dead. Only weeks apart, two blockbusters landed on screens with his sonic stamp all over them: Adam Wingard’s Godzilla vs. Kong and Zack Snyder’s re-realized Justice League.

Thankfully, the Godzilla vs. Kong score was complete by the time the Justice League telephone rang. Holkenborg—who had lost the Justice League gig along with Snyder the first time around—knew the Snyder cut was coming; he had closely watched the growing calls for it online. “Zack and I already started talking in 2019. He’s like, ‘What if we were to finish this? What would it take?’ Those conversations turned to ‘Well, how many recording days potentially do you need and how much of an orchestra do you potentially need?’ Finally, somewhere in April 2020, that’s when that phone call came: ‘Okay, light’s green, start tomorrow, and start running until it’s done because it’s four and a half hours’.”

Ray Fisher as Cyborg in ‘Zack Snyder’s Justice League’.

Holkenborg approaches the titanic task of blockbuster film scoring with an engineer’s mindset: “Building a fantastic, huge house with 20 bedrooms and the dance hall and the kitchen… You’re not going to start by building the third bathroom for the third guest room, right?” Once he has identified the scenes that are most important to his directors—for Snyder, they included the introduction of Cyborg, three fight set-pieces, and a scene of The Flash running that comes towards the end of the film—the composer identifies instrumental “colors” in order to build a theme around each character. Then he holds some of those colors back, theorizing that “if you want like an, ‘Oh!’ experience by looking at a painting that has a huge amount of bright yellow in it, it’s way more successful to see fifteen paintings in front of it, where yellow is absent.”

The Godzilla vs. Kong score satisfies Holkenborg’s life-long love of both characters. “I don’t have a preference for either one. I love them both for various different reasons.” Their respective histories fascinate him: Godzilla as a way to make sense of Japan’s nuclear fall-out, and Kong as a gigantic spectacle that ended up attracting the sympathies of the audiences he was supposed to scare. Even when the science makes no sense (“what the fuck are plasma boosters, anyway?!”), Holkenborg is still happy to wax lyrical about the emotional depth of Kong’s stories, the elaborate concepts of the Godzilla-verse, and his musical approach to the pair—dark, moving brass for Godzilla, with synthesized elements “because he is a half-synthesized animal”, and a more organic, complex orchestration for Kong, featuring “one of the world’s bigger bass drums”.

Adam Wingard’s ‘Godzilla vs. Kong’.

All of this seat-shaking bombast is composed on an “insanely massive sound system” in Holkenborg’s small home studio (though he reassures pandemic-stricken film lovers that he has recently seen both Godzilla vs. Kong and Justice League on his laptop—and “really enjoyed watching it like that”). The process, he says, was “pretty intense”, but only in terms of the sheer amount of score needed. Composing in quarantine was not much different from his usual workflow. “I’m a pretty lonesome cruiser anyway. Composing, by nature, is like a solo exercise—obviously with assistance.”

Like many creatives (Bong Joon-ho recently told a film studies class that he is up at 5:00am most days to watch a movie), Holkenborg is an early riser, waking by 4:00am. “I’m super sharp between like 4 or 5:00am and 9:00am, so I like to do a lot of creative work in that slot.” He takes care of business until mid-afternoon, when another creative spurt happens. “And then I have another batch of calls usually to make, and then around 8:30pm, I’m going to retire for the rest of the day and just chill out a little bit and watch stuff that I want to see, read things that I want to read. Right now I’m studying Portuguese.” By 10:30pm, he’s asleep. “And then at three o’clock I get up.” (Needless to say, Holkenborg’s children are no longer small.)

The pandemic simplified a lot of things for a lot of people: for Holkenborg, it has been a moment to tidy up the physical side of his work. In November last year, he opened an online shop to divest the bulk of his gear—synths, pedals, guitars, drum machines and much more—that he has been collecting since the late 1970s. When friends told him he’d regret it, he disagreed. “At some point I’m going to die. I can’t take them to the afterlife. I also found out I don’t need them. I love to have them around, but I don’t need them.”

Tom Holkenborg with the bass drum used in the ‘Godzilla vs. Kong’ score.

It certainly solves the question of what he’d take if his house was on fire. “The hard drives with sounds and music over the last 40 years, 45 years, that’s hard to replace. So, that would be it. I’m just thinking about things that are absolutely irreplaceable and there are not that many, really.” Alas, it’s bad news for that bass drum. “I can’t take that with me when the house is on fire. Unfortunately, it’s going to make the house burn longer.”

Anyone who has interviewed or spent time with Holkenborg will agree: he may be a lonesome cruiser, but he is also personable, funny, loves to settle in for a chat. As he lights his second or third cigarette in readiness for his Life in Film questionnaire, I’m curious about his relationships with the esteemed filmmakers he has worked with—who include his mentor, Hans Zimmer, directors Sir Peter Jackson, Tim Miller, Robert Rodriguez and, especially, Fury Road’s George Miller.

The story of how Holkenborg scored Mad Max: Fury Road bears retelling: that George Miller did not want a soundtrack (“he was convinced that the orchestration of sounds of the cars would be enough to carry the whole movie”), that Holkenborg was only brought in to create a little something for the Coma-Doof Warrior’s flame-throwing guitar, that they hit it off, the job grew, and grew, into a score that covers almost the entire film.

The Coma-Doof Warrior in ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’ (2015).

What is his best memory of Fury Road? “Well, obviously, when I saw the movie for the first time and I was like ‘what the hell am I looking at?’,” he laughs. “What I mostly look back on is the friendship that I developed with George and the film school one-on-one that I got admitted to, while being paid at the same time, to study with somebody like him. We would talk all night about all kinds of things and nothing, because that really defines our relationship so much—a joint interest in so many different things.”

Happily, Holkenborg and Miller are working together again, on Three Thousand Years of Longing. “It’s really great to be in that process with him again. It’s just like about pricking each other with a little needle. It’s like, ‘Oh, why are you saying that?’ We do that with each other to keep each other sharp. ‘Oh, but if you’re doing this, I’m going to be doing that.’ And then, ‘Oh, if you’re doing that, I’m going to be doing this.’ So it’s really interesting.”

What is your favorite Godzilla film?

Tom Holkenborg: 1989’s Godzilla vs. Biollante. It’s a very obscure one where he’s basically fighting a giant rose. Let’s not look for the logic there.

Why has that particular Godzilla captured your heart? It’s so corny. Yeah. Mothra vs. Godzilla is also great. Mothra looks like a very bad Arabian carpet that was imported through customs and it got delivered by FedEx completely ruined and then laid outside for like four weeks in the rain.

‘Godzilla vs. Biollante’ (ゴジラvsビオランテ, 1989).

What is the first film you remember seeing in a cinema? Bambi. I was six years old, yeah.

And is there a film you have fond memories of watching with your family—a movie that became a family favorite? Not, like, a family favorite because our opinions were too diverse for that, but the next movie that became very important to me when I was a little older was Saturday Night Fever. I thought the soundtrack was, like, groundbreaking, mind-blowingly insane. It’s not necessarily those three massive beats of the Bee Gees on there, but all these other really alternative, left-field tracks by bands like Kool & the Gang. And the way that that darker disco music played against that really dark movie about what it’s like to live in New York and become a competitive dancer, it’s incredible. And still, today, it’s one of the movies where film music and the film itself had so much impact on me, even though it’s not a traditional film score in that sense. It’s incredible.

What is the film that made you want to work in movies, given that you also have a whole musical career separate from movies? (Enjoy Junkie XL’s early 2000s remix of Elvis Presley’s ‘A Little Less Conversation’.) For me, the move from a traditional artist into film scoring was a very slow gradual process. There’s not one movie that pushed me over the cliff. It’s just, like, all the great movies that were made. And I still have a list of obscure movies, classic movies that I need to see.

Yesterday I saw the weirdest of all, but I do want to share this: the original, uncut R-rated version of Caligula, [from] 1979. He [director Tinto Brass] was notoriously brutal and he organized orgies and had terrible torturing techniques. But it’s really weird, there’s Shakespearean actors in there, and then it goes to full-on porn sections. It’s really weird. The music is incredible. You can find it online. You will not find it anywhere [else]. I can just imagine what this must have felt like in 1979 when the film came out. Suspiria, that’s another one. It’s just like, how weird was that thing?

What is your favorite blockbuster that you did not compose? Ben-Hur. I’ve seen that one at least 20 times.

What’s your all-time comfort re-watch? The movie I’ve seen the most is Blade Runner. It’s just, like, it’s a nice world you’re stepping into, that fantasy. It’s not necessarily because I have memories [of] that movie that brings me back to a certain time period, it’s not that. It’s just that I just love to dwell in it. It feels a little bit like coming home. You can use it as comfort food, you can use it as, “I’m not feeling anything today”, or the opposite. You feel very great and you feel very inspired and it’s like, “Oh, let’s go home and watch that movie again.”

Terrence Malick’s ‘The Thin Red Line’ (1998).

Hans Zimmer has been an important mentor to you. Do you have a favorite of his scores? Yes, The Thin Red Line. It’s also the filmmaking of Terrence Malick—he forces a composer to think a certain way. He would always say, “It’s too much, make it less, make it smaller, make it this, make it that.” So, A, it’s a very good movie and B, he got Hans into the right place and Hans just over-delivered by doing exactly the right things at the right time and then shining just because of that.

Who is a composer that you have your eye on and what is one of their films that we should watch next? It’s so sad to say, but I mean, let’s call it like a retrospective discovery if you will. I’m so sad that we lost Jóhann Jóhannsson. He was a composer I felt really close to. We started roughly in the same time period making our way in today’s world. Also, Jóhann came from an artist background, even though it was a modern classical background. He made really great records, great experimentation with electronic elements, with classical instruments, and the mix between the two of them—very original way of looking at music. With Denis Villeneuve as his partner in crime the movies that they did were just mind-boggling good, whether it was Sicario or Arrival or Prisoners, and his voice will truly be missed among film composers. So people that are not super familiar with his work, I would definitely check it out.

‘Turks Fruit’ (Turkish Delight, 1973).

What is a must-see Dutch film that we should add to our watchlists? Holland has small cinema, but it has a really rich cinema and a very serious cinema culture. Usually because there’s not enough work in film, people are serious stage performers but then they also act in movies so they understand both really well. And we’ve delivered. There’s a string of actors that make their way to Hollywood or star in well-known series, whether it’s like Game of Thrones, or what we just talked about, Blade Runner. Many directors like Paul Verhoeven, Jan de Bont, the cameraman.

And so a movie that I’d like to pick is an old movie, called Turks Fruit (Turkish Delight) from the 1970s. Rutger Hauer is a younger guy, like, this completely irresponsible guy that starts this relationship with a really beautiful young girl, and they do all these crazy things, they do a lot of drugs and they have a lot of sex. He’s just like a bad influence on her.

Then he finds out she [has] cancer and it’s terminal. And to see him deal with that, and to see him want a change, but also in that change he does a lot of bad stuff at the same time… It was a sensational movie when it came out. And it actually was directed by Paul Verhoeven, one of his earlier films. When you see it, you’re just like, ‘Why am I watching this?’ for the first 45 minutes and then it starts and it’s like, ‘whoa’. So it’s really good, even in retrospect.

Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta in ‘Grease’ (1978).

What is the sexiest film you’ve ever seen? When I was super young, it was definitely Grease, with Olivia Newton-John, when she was in her catsuit at the very end of it. I had her picture on my bedroom, above my bed sideways because I was only like ten years old or something. I was so in love with Olivia Newton-John. It wasn’t the film per se, it was her. Yeah, I find, personally, movies from the ’70s to be more sexy, but it has something to do with the super-loose way that people were dressed and people were behaving.

And the other one was later in life: Basic Instinct. Sharon Stone. I’m not talking about like the famous shot, right, where she crosses her legs. I’m not talking about that, but the way that she acts throughout the whole movie. It’s insane. It’s really great.

Are there any films that have scared you? Like, truly terrified you? Yeah, I’m not a big fan because I get sucked up too much in it. The found [footage] horror movies like Paranormal Activity and things like the Japanese version of The Grudge, I cannot watch that stuff. That gets me too much. Because when I watch a film, I cannot watch it with one eye half open, the other one closed, like, ‘Okay, kind of cool, interesting’. I just get sucked into it.

Is there a film that has made you cry like no other? Oh yeah. Multiple. Once Upon a Time in America. The Godfather. Hable con Ella (Talk to Her). Betty Blue.

Thomas Holkenborg, AKA Junkie XL.

These are the films that make you weep? Not like on a regular basis, but I remember those were the ones that I really got hit. I’m talking particularly about the third Godfather. That whole end scene when they get out of the church and then… It’s really well-acted. So many Godfather fans that were dismissive of the film when it came out, in retrospect, ten, fifteen, 20 years later, are like, ‘it’s a really good film’. And I actually think so.

Final question. Is there a film from the past year that you would recommend, that you’ve loved? [Long pause.] The thing is that I watch pretty much a movie a day. So, that’s like three to four hundred movies. It [has] happened so often that I watch a film and then I’m just like an hour and 45 minutes in, it’s like, ‘wait, fuck, I’ve seen this thing before’.

So, we have an app for that… [Laughs.]

Related content

Junkie XL’s Letterboxd Life in Film list

Freddie Baker’s review of Justice League

Dutch Cinema: Danielle’s extensive list of more than 2,000 films

Letterboxd Showdown: The Perfect Score (best film scores)

The official Junkie XL Reverb Shop

Follow Gemma on Letterboxd

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gretchensinister · 4 years

Text

True Ending

I wanted to write a scene thinking about different kinds of immortality, without worrying about a whole story. And so I did. The blacksand link is real, but you don’t need to know what blacksand is to check this out, if you’re curious. 4,451 words.

***

This time, they spot him standing near the edge of a broad balcony. His position looks precarious, though that’s not so much because of where he’s standing as it is due to his height. The railings around the balconies of this beautiful building are low, and he is, as always, very tall for the people he’s among. It looks as if it would take nothing more than a sudden change in the wind to tip him right over the side—for, as usual, he is also very thin for the people he’s among. He’s not dressed in black, though. That might have thrown them off a few dozen lives, a few dozen planets ago, but by now…well, they’d know him anywhere. To be materialistic, it frees up a lot of a being’s brain-processing power to recognize patterns, rather than to interpret a thing, or a person, whole and entire upon every encounter. Their intelligence must have started out with that shortcut somehow, whatever they were originally. And by now, they’ve had enough practice to be very, very good at it.

Of course, seeing him again, here, now, another world, another time—it shows that the materialistic viewpoint isn’t the complete overlook of the universe, and they’re glad, so glad.

He hasn’t spotted them yet, and so they don’t approach him yet. There’s no hurry. Only twenty meters or so of creamily smooth stone tiles to cross, and then they’ll be together. And then something will start. It always does.

So for now, they only observe him. Not in black this time, but a deep, deep blue. The blue is in the form of a cloak that reaches to his knees, with wide, bell-like sleeves. The long skirt he wears underneath the cloak is the same shade. The way it moves in the wind off the sea makes them think that it must contain far too much fabric to be spread out in a flat circle, like the tail of an overbred fighting fish. And all that blue is relieved by metallic edges on both cloak and skirt, some strange material that shines like chrome, but dark—like water at night.

Such shimmering, such billowing, even as he stands perfectly still! What a wonderful world this must be, they think, though they don’t examine the thought. Thoughts about the world are powerful thoughts, and sometimes the world is very fragile.

And they’d like to stay in this one for a while. To have no goal, no grand ambition. To make a living tending a garden of fantastically rare plants, or somehow—somehow always having enough, and doing nothing but beautifying and expanding a house, far off the beaten path.

But there’s always something. It can never be put off forever. Somehow, they are never even old when they take up their weapons at last.

He, and they, and a few others—this fate is always theirs, as they are never quite of these worlds, though they are so infinitely, intimately tied to the ways they are sustained or destroyed.

He is probably thinking about that, too, standing on this balcony of smooth stone, cut into diamond-shaped tiles, fitted together in seamless starbursts of gentle blue, green, and pink. Standing and gazing at the sunset sky and sea, blue, pink, and green, and the sun laying a path of gold over the endlessly waving green water. The Emerald Sea, they think. A simple name, but there’s nothing simple about living, flowing water, clear as crystal and ever-full of life beneath the surface.

Sometimes water was terrible and deadly, yes, but to them, the sea became more beautiful in every life they led.

There’s no gold on the balcony to parallel the sun except for them. They are going to go talk to him, meet him for the first time, again, while the sun sets over the Emerald Sea.

He doesn’t hear them, not exactly. Inside the beautiful building there is a party going on. That is why they are here. They, and he, and a few others—but the others can wait. He encounters them first. But the party is still there, and the music lingers on the balconies, trading earspace with the crash of waves like the most courteous dancer. What are footsteps to waves, especially footsteps made in soft dancing slippers?

But, silent approach or not, there’s something about them now that he can never ignore—and would never choose to ignore. No matter where their paths lead (and there is only one true ending for all paths, and that ending is death). Leave that for now. The two of them have barely begun, yet, inevitable as they are to each other.

For all those times before, he turns when they start walking towards him. He smiles at them, because he can right now, because he was not allowed to wear black to this first meeting and because if the sun is setting it is still up right now. He smiles because he recognizes them, and they’re beautiful. As usual, their form is short compared to that of the people of the world they’ve found themselves in. As usual, they’re fat compared to the average of the people of the world they’ve found themselves in.

As usual, they’re wearing gold. A paler shade for their long, robe-like dress, a darker shade for the long, open over-robe. A broad belt of the darker shade adds shape to their dress, and both it and the over-robe are woven in an intricate, damasked pattern. There may be something of sea life to it, but it’s far too abstracted to be recognizable now as anything in particular. Both fabrics have a subtle shine to them, as they ripple in the wind off the water. Nothing like the hems of his clothing, but in a way that’s more impressive. To have things shine only subtly.

They’re carrying two glasses, with wide bowls and short stems. The liquid in them is very faintly pink, and a golden flower of six or eight large petals floats freely on the surface of each drink. Now, that’s just showing off, he thinks, but who showing off to who? The hosts of the party showing off to their guests would be the obvious answer, but it’s not quite right. It’s more like the world itself is showing off. And for him? For them? For the few others that have also lived many lives in many other worlds? That’s not quite right, either. But who else would be able to think such thoughts? Can he, will he think about that yet? Dare he think about that already?

They hold one glass out to him, and he takes it.

The moment of first meeting becomes more and more significant with every planet, every life. And yet, it often feels like there are only a few things that can possibly be said. They know they can speak on this world—that’s not always the case—but they wait to hear what he will say. Let him play the first note in this particular symphony.

“Well met, old friend,” he says, raising his glass to them slightly. “A toast, if you will? To finding each other, once again.”

They give him a wry little smile. Old friend? So this is to be a tragedy, as they expected, from the unforgettable sunset and from the way its rays illuminate half of him and push the other half into shadow. From the way he had been standing out here, alone. From the way he smiled so easily upon seeing them, despite everything that had happened in the last world they remember. Old friend. It’s true, no matter what else they have been. “Well met,” they say. “I’ll always toast to finding you.”

They drink, and in the back of their mind, they remember a song that they’d played very often, in many worlds, on humble, small instrument, the kind that fit in one hand. They think of it often during times of transition with him, or when they are most themselves. It is such a strong memory, it’s almost like really hearing the song. What would it be like if that theme was not played just on one simple instrument, but by a full orchestra, with a choir accompanying them, full and rich and complex, soaring and sweeping. Would it be grander, then? Would it bring inspiration? Or would it bring sorrow?

“It’s an especially beautiful world, this time,” he says. “I wish I could have grown up here.”

“Don’t you remember doing so?”

“Oh, of course, but those aren’t real memories. Those are just…apocrypha.”

“We start here,” they say, and he nods. “I understand that it’s going to be a tragedy, this time. Do you understand that, also?”

“Oh, yes,” he says. “But I do rather relish the parts before I make everything go wrong.”

They smile up at him—so handsome and so sharp. A face that could be built entirely out of triangles. Whenever they meet him, his skin seems finer, smoother, more subtly layered in the sunset light that falls upon it. Warmer, and more alive, as if immortality only ever gives him more vitality. As if whatever hand placed both of them here did not place them here for death. “You could try to avert it, this time.”

He chuckles, low and delighted, bringing up a blush on their face. “Oh, love. That only makes it hurt more, you know that very well.”

They lose whatever they were going to say, and stare at him in shock. He frowns, puzzled, for a long moment, before his eyes widen and he brings his hand to his mouth. When he moves it away, he does so slowly, as if he’s trying not to startle something. “Don’t—don’t look so surprised. I’ve called you love before. And it’s always—always been obvious how I felt.”

“Of course it has,” they say. “But…you’ve never called me love on our very first meeting, and never so…casually, in a place like this. You’ve teased me with ‘love,’ even if it’s a true name, more or less viciously, in many, many landscapes and climes, but to say it like you’ve been calling me ‘love’ for years, and…aeons—That’s always been reserved for the secret places of the world. The void beneath the waves, within the mass of the mountains, in the endless plains off the edge of the map, even the blankness above the sky. Something important has changed, I know it!”

“Maybe it has,” he muses. “But—not enough to really change anything, you have to feel that, too! There will be a wonderful, wonderful time, and then something will change, and I’ll start it, or I’ll be caught up in it, and then we’ll be apart. You’ll lose me. You’ll find other people to fight monsters with. Better people. And even when you see me again—I’ll be different. There’s never any going back.”

“And there’ll be a song we both know, that we can both almost hear, when I finally lose you,” they say. “But you needn’t sound so tortured about ending up ‘different.’ As if I haven’t taken you off the edge of the map after you’ve changed more often than I have while you’re still ‘uncorrupted.’”

“Well—I—for a long time, there wasn’t even the option,” he says, looking out into the distance over the Emerald Sea. “I was never ‘uncorrupted’ to your knowledge. I simply…got in your way.”

“We were never quite that simple,” they say. “Otherwise, how would we still recognize each other now?”

“I’m sure there’s something deep down inside us that never changes,” he says. “Something that makes the tragedy happen, and makes us come back. And…well, whenever we live in places with crowds, we never really blend in.”

“A little shinier, a little more flamboyant,” they say. They glance at his hair, the deepest shade of brown for now—black, later—and while it reflects the delicate ambient colors of the sunset beautifully, it’s still combed back stiffly to a gravity-defying point, as it always has been. They reach up to touch their own hair, which forms a crown of spikes, like some sculptural star or sun. As far as they can tell, it mostly does this on its own. At least, they don’t remember learning how to style it this way, and they don’t recall ever spending a lot of time on it, even when their journeys take them far into the wilderness. And to look like a star or sun, well, it is fitting, but—“If you go inside, you’ll see that almost everyone has long, flowing hair.”

“I could imagine you with your hair in masses of curls,” he says. “All gold and shining. But then…how would we recognize ourselves in ancient hieroglyphics on ruined temple walls?”

“A rare concern, but one I suppose we must address,” they say. They pause for a moment, then smile. “At least we get the wonderful robes and dresses.”

“As long as they’re mostly the right color,” he says. “Can you imagine me in gold?”

They tilt their head. “Maybe. Just once. Before you changed to only ever appear in black.”

“Oh, that would be awful, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. I suppose it would be. If it happens, I know it’ll hurt. But I do…I do rather like your iconic look.”

He shoots them a quick grin, like a lightning flash. “But it’s just so horrible, you know? The skeletal gauntness, the gray skin, the mouthful of fangs.”

This time it’s their turn to look out over the sea. Every life they live, now…when it happens to him, well…even that gray skin looks lovely and alive, all the right translucency by firelight, moonlight, starlight, magelight…

They’ve seen some truly awful monsters. But he…it’s as if some hand has shaped him to still be loved, afterwards. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. They’ve never been able to let him live, when it comes to the end of everything. “It doesn’t hurt, does it? Your eyes, like solar eclipses…”

“No,” he says. “It doesn’t hurt, once the transformation’s over. I mean, you know how it goes. There’s only a few things that actually do hurt me, and they’re usually quite difficult to obtain.”

“Yes. Of course.” They turn back towards him. “Well, maybe I like that look because, with your mouthful of fangs, as you say…you smile so much more.”

“You’re talking as freely as if we were in the void, now.”

“Maybe the world is always present everywhere, in this life. Even when we are unwatched…unguided.”

“Even that astonishing ocean,” he murmurs. “You called my look iconic, and I think yours is, too, you know. And those that you will join, when I am no longer a suitable companion to you. Think of how much we could be simplified, and still be recognizable as ourselves.”

“You’re not speaking of hieroglyphics,” they say. “But distant memories…I remember, and I do not remember, how different we looked, how different we moved, compared to now. It was always as vivid and real as this gorgeous, gorgeous world we’re in now.”

For a while both of them are silent, sipping their complex drinks with their floating flowers.

He is the one who breaks the silence. “I think we’ve been here before. Like—” He hands his almost-empty drink to them and gets down on the floor, pressing his cheek against the tiles. “Yes,” he says, as they watch, bemused. “If the top half of the building was removed—somehow—you could see the first of the Aether Mountains behind it.”

“The ones that float,” they say. “I know that! I know that from—from my real memories, and from the memories that are from the life I had in this world, before tonight—apocrypha, as you said. Oh, stars. They’ll have—oh, I want to see the plants! The animals! I—wait. I remember this balcony. I remember that I couldn’t climb over that little short railing to get to the seashore, not without touching the void—”

“Please don’t try it now, it’s higher up than it seems,” he says, still lying down.

“But I—I also remember…the tiles weren’t these delicate colors, then. Not pink, and this light green and blue, but bright red and green and blue. And I was yellow and you were black and white and…it was all a ruin. And…” They set the drinks on the balcony and fall to their knees by his side. “You died here,” they say quietly, putting their hand on his shoulder. “At my guided hand.”

“There was nothing for it,” he says. “I opposed you with guided hands. And we had our fate.”

“It was the first time. The very first time. And after you died…it turned out that you hadn’t been the one really responsible for the monsters. There was a much bigger monster underneath the ruin, and you had been its victim, for all the strife and chaos you sowed.”

“Ah. I probably get infected by it as soon as we separate tonight,” he says, pushing himself into a sitting position. “You go up to talk to some other people who don’t quite fit into the crowd, and I, feeling snubbed but also curious and proud, go down into a basement that really should be locked. This is before. A part of the story that can be told now.”

“It starts here and ends here,” they say. “Yes, that makes sense.” They let go of his shoulder, but only to let their hand slide down to hold his. “You know, I can never help but feel disappointed when the last monster isn’t you.”

He laughs softly, and squeezes their hand. “I have my own disappointments. I spend what seems like years antagonizing you, and I know you’re getting stronger and more talented all the time, and then I fall so easily. I never get to see your full power. I wake up and meet you again, and that’s good, of course, but…I’d love to see what you can really do, at the end…if things must end the way they do.”

“Maybe that’s what’s changed,” they say. “This time, there won’t be that…that break in the thread of our fates. We’ll be bound together, all the way to the very end.”

“What will you do to me, I wonder,” he says.

They sigh. “If you’re the monster, kill you, I suppose. Though that seems so…ah, what am I saying? You always do some really terrible things before the end, no matter how much I miss you, no matter how many pages of your old journal I find showing how much you miss me, no matter how much evidence there is that you were once other than monstrous.”

“Well.” He smiles, more like his familiar corrupt form than this lovely, shining precursor. “I mean to say, make sure it looks good when you do.”

“You vain bastard,” they say, affection overflowing in their voice. “I’ll try. But you know me. Sometimes I just…I hate being railroaded by fate. I work so hard to avoid its pull that by the time it catches up with me, I touch void every time I draw my weapon.”

“Maybe I’ll remember to stop sending lesser monsters to find you and the others, then,” he says. “But I wouldn’t want you, or…anyone…to get bored.” He reaches out and brushes his long fingers along the edges of one of their spikes of hair. “Or, since something has changed, you could always let yourself be railroaded by fate just this one time. Let the story play out—play your part as well as you can. All the way through. Just to find out how it goes.”

“Aside from a few unobserved moments shortly before or after you appear to harass me and my companions?”

“Mmm. Good point.” He licks his lips. “If you like me when I’m nasty, I’m not going to tell you not to indulge yourself when we’re unguided and fate is momentarily satisfied. We move so beautifully in this life. The textures of our skin, the give of our flesh…”

They chuckle even as heat rises in their cheeks, and they rub their thumb along the back of his hand. “How dare you talk this way when we’re out on a balcony where anyone could walk up at any time.”

“It’s revenge for you saying that we’d only need a few unobserved moments. I may be easy for you, but I’d never have you rejoin fate’s cruel lines as anything less than fully satisfied.”

“Maybe instead I was referring to how easily satisfiable I am at your hands,” they say. They lean closer, press their forehead to his. “We need to talk about something else.”

“Return to the problem of me being the monster at the end,” he breathes. “You were going to say something about killing me. It seemed…”

“It seems overdone. But how much can a story really change? Enough for you to call me love, yes…”

“You’re always resisting a corrupting force,” he says. He reaches out and takes their other hand. “Don’t you learn to purify rather than kill the monsters? And it’s a significant choice, when you decide to do which. Consequences for your soul. Consequences for your companions. There was never the option for me, if I went bad on my own, essentially, but if I become something as grandiose as the last monster, thanks to a direct link to that corrupting force, well, couldn’t you…”

“Purify you,” they say. “Oh, better, far better than death. I’ve never had that much power before, though, when it comes to the final monster. I use too much not killing the lesser monsters. And then I only have enough to weaken the last one, never to restore it. But if it’s you, and my guided hands can choose…well. Other monsters will simply have to die. But even then, would bringing all that purifying power to you as the last monster be enough? Before, it’s always been that the soul is restored before the form. That’s part of the choice. Whether it’s fair to leave a good creature’s soul to live in a monstrous form. If I bring your soul back, but can’t restore your form—”

“Save your angst for your watched moments,” he says, and squeezes their hands. “Whatever keeps bringing us back has a certain affection for me. Never enough, yet, to leave me alive, but enough that I feel…when you see me as a monster, that unwatched part of you that understands our endless returns and changes—well, that part of you will be delighted.”

They laugh softly at that. “Oh, you’re probably right.” They meet his eyes. “For a while now, I’ve undergone small changes when purifying other monsters. Channeling enough purifying energy for the last monster, for you…I might change quite a bit, too.”

“Now that, I’d love to see,” he says. “As long as, you know, you aren’t made thin, or forced into a gender presentation that just isn’t you.”

“True,” they say. “But if fate is kind—”

His eyes suddenly widen. “Don’t die to cleanse me, if that’s an option. Even if we do start all over again, I don’t want that.”

“Oh, so you figured out how the story could still be a tragedy,” they say. They try to keep their voice light, and they think they succeed. But the frustration and anger are still there. Why should it have to end badly? Why does he always have to be the…well…the bad guy, when these are the moments they share when unobserved and unguided? “After so many iterations,” they continue, “there has to be one narrow path for us. In this big, beautiful, wide-open world.”

“Difficult for our guides, though, I’m sure.”

“After so many iterations,” they say, “I feel that our guides should be practiced enough to enjoy a challenge.” They sigh. “But we won’t know, and we can’t know, until it all plays out. So I’ll just keep sneaking off with you while you’re awful and…oh, well I can choose to do one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If I, in some new, purified form, must face you in some new, monstrous form, you know that there will be some song we can almost hear. I think at that moment…that ending…I think there would be music, and that it would be truly wonderful.” They smile wryly. “Whatever happens, I swear I’ll break reality just enough so we can hear the music. I think we deserve that, at least.”

“Oh, love. Love, love, love. After so many iterations, we deserve a lot more than that. Though I do want to hear the song that fate has decreed for us.”

They press their forehead to his again. A few moments, all too short, pass. “I’m starting to feel fate’s pull,” they say.

“And I think we might be watched once more,” he says. “It’s—I can’t speak freely.”

They realize that the sun has almost sunk completely out of sight. More light now comes from the gently flickering flames in the sconces that line the outside of this beautiful building, this beautiful building that must soon be destroyed.

“But even if I can’t speak freely,” he says, “I find there’s still one highly desired action available to me.”

Their heart leaps as he leans forward, and even in this moment—observed, guided, fated—they kiss, with all the true feeling that’s never been permitted so openly before.

And the sun finally disappears, but it is not simple darkness that follows. For just an instant, the green of the Emerald Sea vaults the sky, in utter defiance of the expected. And when they finally pull apart, the sky is full of stars.

He rises carefully, still not letting go of their hands. “I have to go now,” he says. “I think I’ve found something that will change the lives of everyone in the world.”

“I hope you’re right,” they say, and go on with something meaningless about the king needing to enlist even junior mages to deal with the rising number of magical threats. The important thing is that they kissed. The important thing is the feeling of his hands in theirs, even outside of the void. They’re holding each other, on the map. They squeeze his hands one last time. Something really has changed. It’s finally not too much to hope for that there could be one way, one narrow way, where the thread of fate could be followed through the maze of a tragedy and to a happy ending that includes them both.

***

Notes for the puzzled: The “what if” here is: What if there was a video game franchise where the characters were semi-autonomous AIs in their roles, but maybe like up to 6 or so were also playable if you had a group to do so? And what if somehow there was some continuity for the AIs even through new worlds, and the plots were often fairly similar? Maybe the players of these particular “he” and “they” have been the same since the very first game. But now what if the AIs of a particular good guy and bad guy are in love? And so far they haven’t been able to express that in the game (but it would be a very obvious and popular fan theory). But now the first game has been remastered, and extra story has been added, the graphics are better than ever, and maybe the story’s been changed just enough to allow for a true happy ending for a couple of queer characters.

This is also why both of them marvel at things like the water, and flowing fabric, and skin texture, movement, drinking a toast...none of that would have been possible the first time they met.

I bet you need to have someone play as the bad guy to get the whole story, that’s why “he” is playable in any way. It’s also kind of semi-cinematic, though as “they” makes clear you can resist the plot and be a farmer for a while.

#blacksand #KIND OF #8000 #take a chance on me #a sample an experiment a sketch #visual artists can just draw a cool scene why not writers?

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shemakesmusic-uk · 4 years

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This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you!

With What Eyes

With What Eyes are duo Phoebe and Callista, an indie-pop act formed at Oxford University by two English girls who have been friends since childhood. Harmonising down the school corridors as soprano and alto, playing for the orchestra as clarinetist and violinist, and trumping their peers in Battle of the Bands, they had a very collaborative musical upbringing which they were determined to continue after they arrived at our academic focused University. They started out on the Oxford and London open mic scene with a simple folky sound infused with classical and choral influences from their school days. Today, piano and harmony continue to be the foundation of their music, yet their style has developed substantially over the last year. With What Eyes’ EP Coral Moon debuts these poppier inclinations. Written, recorded and produced by just the two of them, they are always endeavouring to stretch ther sound and add instrumental and electronic depth to their music. ‘Dragonfly’, Coral Moon’s lead single, was picked up by BBC Introducing and aired by the BBC with an artists profile. “Our focus is on creating sensitive, thoughtful lyrical pop with eclectic production choices, flirting with multiple genres whilst remaining distinctly 'With What Eyes’,” the duo say. “We are entirely self-sufficient, writing, recording and producing everything ourselves. The song ‘Dragonfly’ is about dancing by yourself, and being at one with nature - something we’ve been doing a lot of since the UK’s lockdown.” Listen below.

With What Eyes · Dragonfly

V!V

On October 2 emerging Chicago based recording artist Viv Badynee aka V!V kindly graced our eardrums with the release of her new single ‘Sun x Moon.’ Speaking about ‘Sun x Moon,’ a song Viv wrote in collaboration with her producer CBVB (who happens to be her dad), she explains, “It’s essentially about two people that just can’t figure out how to connect (social media be damned!). Or maybe it’s just one person that can’t seem to figure it out. The first lyric I came up with while I was in the shower became the chorus. I was feeling excited for an upcoming date that never happened due to, let’s say ‘a miscommunication’. I started singing a little rhyme comparing us to the sun and moon and how hard he was to reach. I thought to myself, ‘damn, it’s like I need to wait for an eclipse to make this happen!’ Thus a song was born.” The track is a deft mix of Alt-R&B leaning pop with blissed out bedroom beats contrasted by darker distorted elements that’d make Tyler, the Creator proud. Listen below.

V!V · Sun x Moon

Sister Echo

Sister Echo grew up in Essex, and went on to live in London for ten years. She played open mic nights every week and did as much music stuff as she could. “Eventually I had to get a boring adult job and music took a major backseat,” she says. “I just recently moved back to my family home in Essex during this crazy pandemic and have re found my passion and desire to write and record! So, I’m making an e.p in my bedroom and I feel like a teenager again... it’s great haha. I love grunge and soul and trip- hop. I’m obsessed with singers and anyone who puts their balls into a song. I’m especially obsessed with powerful women and their voices.” Sister Echo’s latest single is ‘Tokyo Konveni’. She explains: “The song stems from the idea of control in a relationship. Not in a negative way, more just an exploration of control, and the way society assumes men should be one way and women another. It’s a playful look at one part of the relationship being in total control. I wanted the words to paint a picture which is why I talk about watching me dance and move. It’s just a vibe you know!” Listen below.

Eunice Keitan

Eunice Keitan's soulful voice makes a big impression on listeners. Both her international upbringing and her eclectic music background show in this Canadian singer-songwriter's work which mixes R&B/Acoustic Soul and World Folk influences. While traveling and moving often with her family in simple circumstances throughout her childhood, Eunice noticed the everyday people and their often harsh realities, struggles which impacted her perception of social issues at play in the lives of people around the world. That impact surfaces in the themes of many of her songs, where she explores mental health, social inequality and social change. The songwriter's latest offering, ‘Standing With You’ is an uplifting anthem of hope and solidarity that makes a bold and moving statement for a better future of true justice and equality. Eunice expains: "Five days after the death of George Floyd, during the emotional protests and social unrest that followed, I began writing my new single, ‘Standing With You.’ During this period, I read a pamphlet that was circulated immediately after the lynching of Emmett Till. It felt eerily like it was written yesterday and got me thinking. I began asking a lot of questions about what really needs to happen so that we can stop repeating this same cycle of hate and injustice over and over. The seeds of what would become ‘Standing With You’ were sown as I considered these issues. The message of this song is one of empathy and solidarity. It is a promise to do better and the hope that if we can move forward together as one, we can see real changes."

Eunice Keitan · Standing With You

LORE CITY

Lore City is an American art rock duo formed in 2011 and currently based in Portland, Oregon. Band members include Laura Mariposa Williams (vocals, keyboard, guitar) and Eric Angelo Bessel (percussion, keyboard, guitar). They met in 2003 as peers in the College of Visual & Performing Arts at Syracuse University. Reconnecting years later, Laura and Eric formed Lore City in 2011 and married shortly after that. Alchemical Task is the third studio album from the Art Rock duo. It’s been six years since their last release, Kill Your Dreams, and subsequent move to Portland, Oregon. The band’s sound combines elements of Psych Rock, Post-Rock, and Dream Pop. Listen to the album below.

#submission saturday #with what eyes #v!v #sister echo #eunice keitan #lore city

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dramallamadingdang · 5 years

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You sound like such a cool person! It's really nice to hear about simmers' personal lives. Would you recommend some of the music you usually like to play? I have a particular liking for the dramatically miserable -- think Der Lindenbaum, from Schubert's Winterreise -- but I've been known to listen to varying degrees of melancholic; I'd say I'm quite eclectic, really

Oh, so many things…. I could be here all day! But, I have to say I’m not much for melancholy pieces. I do like dramatic stuff, but more on the passionate (both in terms of anger and romance-y kind of stuff) side than the melancholy, and I tend to be drawn to fast, upbeat “dance-able” pieces. So, what I like probably isn’t going to align too well with what you like. So…yeah. Anyway, this goes long; therefore, I cut.

When I was a performing concert pianist, I was known primarily as a Beethoven interpreter. My dad’s mother was an excellent pianist and a Beethoven fanatic, and she always had Beethoven records playing in her house when I was there. I ended up picking out chunks of the melody for the first movement of his Piano Concerto No. 5 at the age of about 3 on her piano (which is now my piano), and she started urging my parents to find me a good teacher. To this day, Beethoven’s fifth piano concerto is my favorite piece not only of Beethoven’s catalog but of pretty much all of music, classical and otherwise. I can’t really tell you why. I mean, it’s objectively not his “best” composition by any means, but…it just speaks to me. Always has. Its third movement rondo in particular fills me with joy, and it was the first piece I ever played “big time” professionally, at the age of 11, with the Indianapolis Symphony. So, I’m a pretty huge Beethoven fan and love pretty much everything he wrote….except the f***ing “Moonlight Sonata.” (OK, OK, I’m mostly kidding. It’s just that that thing’s first movement is sooooooooo overplayed, and Beethoven wrote much more interesting things!)

Beyond Beethoven…I’m also not generally a Liszt (though his Hungarian Rhapsodies are fun) or Chopin fan, which is weird for a pianist, but…there it is. And from a purely listening standpoint, I’m not a fan of baroque or classical-period music. (Nope, not a Mozart fan! *gasp*) The one exception would be Boccherini, which I guess isn’t surprising because he was sort of instrumental in elevating the cello (his own instrument, on which he was a virtuoso) from mere boring accompaniment to having its own melodic voice in a chamber group. Plus, his stuff has a strong Spanish influence that I enjoy, and on a more personal side, my husband and I and a few friends enjoy getting together and playing Boccherini’s guitar quintets. Not too many composers wrote pieces for guitar + other stringed instruments.

I also have a deep fondness for later 19th/early 20th century Czech, Hungarian, and Romanian composers. (Other than Liszt, that is, but I kinda think of him as more French than Hungarian.) I don’t know, there’s something about the works of composers from that part of Europe that speaks to me. It could be because the 19th century ones tended to incorporate more dance/folk music into their work, which I have an appreciation for. It’s complex and dense stuff, but less pretentious and ponderous than the Germans – much as I love Beethoven – and less overwrought and angsty than, say, Mussorgsky or Tchaikovsky. :) Although if you want melancholy and/or miserable, then the Russians are certainly a go-to. *laugh*

But for me….There’s Dvorak, of course, heavily influenced by Beethoven as he was. I love his cello concerto, especially Jacqueline du Pre’s interpretation of it, but his “New World” Symphony has influences from American frontier landscapes as well as African-American music, and I love it. If its last two minutes or so don’t send chills down your spine, then you are not alive. AND its second movement will make me cry. (But then, I have a thing for the mournful sound of the cor anglais, so I guess that’s not surprising. :) ) All that said, overall, of the Czechs, I actually prefer Smetana. :) I love pretty much everything he wrote.

And then there’s Enescu. Huge fan! I love his moody second cello sonata (You might like that one, if you like cello) and his Romanian Rhapsodies are just delightful, especially the first one, with its heavy Romani influence. I mean, come on! It incorporates tunes from DRINKING SONGS! *laugh*

On the Hungarian side, I really like Kodaly and (if I’m in a more modern/avant-garde mood) Ligeti. Among other things, Kodaly composed an unaccompanied cello sonata that I love, and if you like choral/sacred music, his Missa Brevis is very interesting to listen to. Ligeti’s stuff, on the other hand, is….Well, not for everyone, to be sure, but some people are familiar with him because of 2001: A Space Odyssey. (Kubrick used his music without permission for that film’s soundtrack.) Anyway, it’s very dissonant stuff, some of which makes a human a capella ensemble sound like electronic music...which Ligeti also composed. It sometimes comes across as melancholy – or just flat-out bizarre-o! – so you might like it. Or not. Depends on your tolerance for the avant-garde, I suppose. :) Me, I have a great fondness for his unaccompanied viola sonata, written in the 90s. Violas don’t get enough love as a solo instrument, IMO. I greatly prefer their warmer, darker tone to the violin’s bright, strident screeching. But then, I do tend to prefer the alto and tenor “voices” in the orchestra -- violas, cellos, cor anglais, bassoon, French horns, trombones, etc. -- over the soprano ones. :)

So, um, yeah. There’s some things. :) And I can always recommend more. *laugh*

#Anonymous #non sims

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silvvergears · 5 years

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Late Shift

Happy birthday to @echotovalley, long time friend and enabler of Stupid Shit. This particular kind of Stupid - not even remotely edited Stupid - was based on an idea of hers that I decided to run with, so I hope I did it justice! Thanks so much for all you’ve done for me over the years, and here’s to many more~

Working night audit had long been Maka’s favorite shift, had been ever since Azusa had suggested Maka work a couple overnight shifts during the week. Though she missed her coworkers and their lively personalities, Maka loved having the night to herself; just the quiet lobby playlist and occasional sleepy-eyed guest to keep her company. It was on these long nights that Maka would sit with either her school notes or latest novel and let the sounds of the lobby act sooth the frustrations of the week.

That wasn’t to say nothing ever went wrong during the night shift, but at least it didn’t all go wrong at once. And Azusa trusted Maka with the night shift because she could handle whatever their guests tried to throw at her. Even the musically-inclined ones.

The late shift had gotten significantly more exciting while the orchestra was in her hotel, and Maka had come in expecting a night of noise complaints and escorting musicians away from the bar (Her only consolation was that a certain white-haired violinist was apparently a fan of his beauty sleep and never bothered her late at night). But it seemed that an important performance by the orchestra earlier in the evening had tired the whole group out, and Maka’s night had been blissfully easy.

Maybe that was why she had let her guard down.

Maka had made herself comfortable, jacket draped over the back of her chair as she curled up in her chair with her latest novel, when she noticed the music. It wasn’t the standard soft-pop hits that made up their lobby playlist, which at this point, Maka had heard so many times she barely heard them at all anymore. No, it was the soft playing of a lonely piano, each note drifting lazily through the quiet lobby. That was odd, they usually only had a pianist in the bar on the weekends… and certainly not at 2:47 in the morning.

This had ‘orchestra tomfoolery’ written all over it.

Groaning, Maka tucked a room key into her book to save her spot before standing. She didn’t bother to grab her jacket as she walked out from behind the desk, making sure the door was locked before making her way to the restaurant and bar. With the way the lobby was set up, the bar cut off Maka’s view of the baby grand piano until she was basically on top of it, and she spent the walk preparing her best customer service smile and ‘It’s 2 AM and I am not afraid to kick you out’ voice. It was a little odd walking through the restaurant without Patti’s beaming smile or Blair’s curling grin to meet her, but Maka’s steps didn’t falter until after she turned the corner and saw the head of white hair behind the piano.

Oh, for the love of God-

Maka’s annoyance died a quick, quiet death when she realized it was not, in fact, Wes Evans trying her patience yet again and banging away on an instrument he did not play just to prove he could. Instead, it was the younger, quieter Evans, seemingly unaware of Maka as he played. Maka’s interactions with Soul had so far been limited to requests for toothbrushes - he kept loosing them - or profound and exhausted apologies for Everything About Wes. He had struck her as the more sensible of the two, and it was only that that kept her from storming up to the piano and demanding he leave.

(Or at least, that’s what she told herself. To admit otherwise would mean admitting that something about his peaceful expression had struck a chord with something in her, and that was just not going to happen.)

Instead, Maka kept close to the darker parts of the empty restaurant, watching Soul curiously. He looked like he had just come from the concert hall, jacket laying next to him on the bench and tie hanging limply around his neck. He’d even begun to unbutton his shirt, the dim light catching on shiny scar tissue near the neckline of his shirt in a very distracting way. His posture was lazy and slouched, but his fingers still moved perfectly across the keys, wrists straight.

The song he played was unfamiliar to her, a slow, sleepy lullaby that meandered from key to key. Maka had never been very musically literate, only understanding a song if she had lyrics or choreography to help her, but somehow Soul’s playing managed to reach even her. She felt just as peaceful and relaxed as he looked, her body subconsciously leaning against the wall lazily as she wrapped her arms around herself loosely.

If she listened closely, she thought she could hear Soul humming to himself, the deep timbre of his hushed voice striking against the soft, raw part of her being that his music had exposed.

She forgot all about the front desk, about her novel and waiting homework. Her stress from school and all of her upcoming exams seemed to drain from her as she slumped in her spot, eyes closed. For a moment, nothing existed outside of the dark restaurant and the pianist playing in the only dim light in the room.

Maka opened her eyes just in time to see the exact moment when Soul realized he wasn’t alone, his wine-dark eyes meeting hers in a heartbeat of a moment before he started almost violently and his knees crashed into the piano while his fingers tripped over the keys awkwardly. Maka snorted into her palm, eyes scrunched with amusement as Soul shot her a painfully awkward smile and scrambled for his phone. The screen lit up his face so she had a perfect view as he realized exactly what time it was.

“Shit,” he hissed quietly.

“Mhm,” Maka replied, pressing her lips together to keep from grinning too widely.

“Shit,” he repeated, scrambling for his jacket as he tried to step away from the piano and only managed to trip over the bench, long legs caught awkwardly as he struggled not to fall or kick at the keys. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think it was that late-” he said, keeping his voice low as if he feared speaking at a normal volume would wake the whole hotel. ��I just- I couldn’t sleep so I was walking around and I-”

“Soul,” Maka interrupted, amusement clear in her voice. The sound of his name brought the flustered musician to a dead halt, looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s fine,” she reassured, “you weren’t bothering anyone. I’m the only person in the lobby right now, anyways.”

“I promise I don’t normally do this,” he repeated in the same way he usually said ‘I’m so sorry about my brother’.

“Play piano? I figured doing that regularly was a prerequisite for the whole ‘orchestra’ thing.”

Soul’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Oh, god, you’re as bad as he is.”

“I take deep offense to that,” Maka said loftily. She moved closer, Soul watching her warily the whole time. She bent down, scooping up the tie that had slipped from around his neck in his frantic scramble and holding it up to him. “Really though, you’re perfectly alright. If you had been Gopher, I might have had a problem, but since it’s you…” She shrugged.

“Since it’s me?” Soul murmured.

“You haven’t given me any trouble yet, so I figure I can let some late night practice slide just this once,” she said with a smile. “Also, I really liked your lullaby.”

Maka couldn’t be sure in the dim half-light, but she could swear Soul’s already dark skin flushed.

“Thanks,” he said softly, finally taking his tie from her outstretched hand.

“I didn’t recognize it, who’s the composer?” she asked curiously. Now she definitely knew Soul was blushing, his ears dark with embarrassment between messy strands of white hair.

“Uh, you probably wouldn’t recognize the name,” he muttered. “Real niche.”

A single dusty-brown eyebrow lifted. “Try me.”

Soul shifted awkwardly. “Um. Evans.”

Both eyebrows went up. “You-?” Soul nodded, looking anywhere but at Maka. Her shocked expression went soft. “Soul, that was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said again, looking about ten seconds from an embarrassed meltdown. Maka took pity on the pianist and gestured for him to follow her back out of the restaurant and into the softly-lit lobby.

“I work the night shift once a week,” she told him as they walked. “If you want to practice on the grand at night, just make sure it’s on a night I’m here, and let me know.”

“You’re… gonna let me practice in the lobby? Just like that?” Soul shook his head. “Actually, no, don’t answer that, I don’t want you to reconsider.” Maka couldn’t help her amused snort.

“Hey, you’re not the sibling trying to practice in the cabanas, I think I can be a little lenient based on good behavior.” That got a chuckle from Soul, and Maka’s ears seemed to drink the sound in. Geeze, his voice was deep. Maka tried not to find that really attractive.

“I’ll continue to be on my best, then,” he said, stopping in front of the elevators that led up to the rooms. Maka stopped a few steps away, hands clasped behind her back as she turned to look at him. “I guess apologizing again would be in poor taste?” he said with a shy, crooked grin.

“Play something bad, and then I’ll accept your apology,” she told him, waving. “Have a good night, Soul.”

“You too,” he said softly, “… Maka.”

(Any shivers that went up her spine at the sound of her name spoken in Soul’s deep, sleepy voice were immediately blamed on the late hour and the sleep she so obviously was lacking.)

Extra:

Wes was generally very easy-going; happy to go with the flow and let his life take him where it will. As long as it took him to bed by ten. A man needed his eight hours, after all.

So rooming with his insomniac brother had been… a trial, to put it kindly.

Luckily, his expensive soundproofing headphones and eye mask helped Wes keep his strict sleep schedule without much intervention. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stop the call of nature, which is how Wes found himself awake at nearly three in the morning, faced with an empty bed and a missing brother.

“Come on, man,” Wes groaned, heading to the desk and his charging phone. Insomnia or not, Soul could have at least left a note or something before wandering off. Easy-going he may be, he was a big brother first and foremost, and he worried about Soul being alone in a strange place at such a late hour.

Thankfully, before he could finish his text, the prodigal son returned, looking… rather alarmingly flushed, actually. Late night walks were not that strenuous, especially at Soul’s base speed of ‘meander’.

“Hello?” Wes said, setting his phone back down. Soul looked at him with wide eyes, making a strangled sound before his back hit the door and he slid to the ground, hands over his eyes. Wes was at his side in a heartbeat, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You okay, Soul?” he asked, looking him over for any sign of being jumped or attacked.

“Peachy,” Soul groaned into his hands, bony knees up to his chest.

“Wanna explain before I assume the worst?”

Soul sighed. “I may have found the baby grand in the restaurant while I was walking around.”

Wes grinned. Ah, yes, that made sense. He had wondered how long Soul would be able to resist the chance to play such a lovely instrument. “Got caught by the front desk?” he said sympathetically.

Soul nodded.

“Got chewed out, huh?”

Soul shook his head.

Wait, what?

“She liked my composition,” Soul nearly whined, curling up further away from a very confused Wes. Again, huh? Soul was a talented composer, whether he believed so or not, but praise of his music had never flustered him like this. In fact, Soul only got flustered like this around…

Soul must have sensed the wide, shit-eating grin that spread across Wes’s handsome features, because he didn’t even have his mouth open all the way to tease his brother about a certain blonde front desk agent before Soul was shoving his jacket in Wes’s face, hissing for him to shut the fuck up, Wes.

#soul eater #soma #hotel au #maka albarn #soul evans #wes evans

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dweemeister · 5 years

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Toy Story 4 (2019)

2019 marks the completion of the John Lasseter era at Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios with Toy Story 4 (credited as story writer; uncredited as producer) and Frozen 2 (as producer). Lasseter’s disgraceful end as the creative head at both studios was marked by scandal, in which the Walt Disney Company cut ties as quietly as possible. At one point untouchable because of Pixar’s creative output – not a single dud from Toy Story (1995) to Toy Story 3 (2010) – Lasseter’s recent years had reeked of complacency, dependence on sequels, and having played a part in erasing the final vestiges of hand-drawn animation at the famed Walt Disney Animation Studios. Pixar’s impeccable record is no more; the groundbreaking studio is fallible after all. With Lasseter now at Skydance Animation (to the dismay of many), his final involvement with a Pixar film continues the legacy of arguably the most consistent animated film series ever.

Directed by Josh Cooley and with a screenplay by Stephany Folsom (her cinematic debut) and Andrew Stanton (1998′s A Bug’s Life, 2008′s WALL-E), Toy Story 4 had languished in development hell for years. An army of writers have doctored the story since 2014, so it is difficult to understand who contributed what. For those who were children when Toy Story and Toy Story 2 (1999) were released to theaters, Toy Story 3 appeared to be the fitting farewell to Woody, Buzz Lightyear, and their friends. Pixar, which has claimed that it does not pursue sequels unless there is artistic and narrative sense to that sequel – they have some explaining to do about the Cars sequels – has charged forward with this newest entry in the Toy Story mythos.

Now with Bonnie, the cast of toys must contend with the fact she is about to attend Kindergarten. Worried that Bonnie will have a difficult day of Kindergarten orientation and the fact that – though he would never openly admit it – Bonnie has not given him much attention recently, Woody hops into Bonnie’s backpack and has a hand in the creation of Forky. Forky, believing himself to be trash, makes numerous attempts to toss himself into the wastebasket, much to Woody’s dismay. As Bonnie’s family embarks on a vacation, Woody and the gang must prevent Forky (whose scenes are frequent and comedically overcooked) from disposing himself. While at a mountainous town, numerous situations will introduce the likes of other toys including Gabby Gabby (a ‘60s-era doll who longs to be loved by a child); the miniscule Giggle McDimples; prize toys Ducky and Bunny; motorcycling daredevil Duke Caboom; and Woody’s old flame, Bo Peep.

Without detailing the film’s conclusion and, as someone who rewatched my VHS of Toy Story and DVD of Toy Story 2 ad nauseam as a child, Toy Story 4 does not feel as strong a conclusion as its immediate predecessor. Yet Toy Story 4 deepens the series’ existential themes and characterization of Woody – its moral center after extinguishing his homicidal feelings towards Buzz in the original – at the unfortunate expense of almost the entirety of the cast of toys. Nevertheless, Woody’s character growth has been tremendous to behold. His steadfast loyalty – so often a source of adoration from moviegoers – is called into question here. His unwritten sheriff’s code to be of service, embodied by Jimmy Stewarts or Gary Coopers in decades’ past, clashes with the “lost toys” without children to call their own. The misadventures and toy-sized heists characteristic of Toy Story are derailed by unfortunate timing and increasing stakes. No wonder the frustration towards Woody – among the characters and the audience – is so palpable.

The fragmentation of the plot and physical separation of its characters creates a handful of storylines that, with the film’s sharp editing, are comprehensible. Toy Story 4, when analyzed through its editing (and even when excluding flashbacks and fantasies) and writing structure, is the least linear of the Toy Story films. Characters are not so much reacting to a singular event as they are personifying or espousing the film’s themes. One’s ability to tolerate this structure will be tested, but screenwriters Folsom and Stanton are content to not devolve into lengthy expositions or soliloquies that too explicitly outline their intended subtext. Gabby Gabby’s apparent and ultimate fates will elicit instant, strong reactions that might just be universal. Woody’s final decisions in the film’s closing minutes will be viewed through the prism of life experience. Many of the questions Toy Story 4 presents once Forky has been introduced have been central to the series, with variations with each passing installment. What does it mean to realize one’s obsolescence? How does one come to terms – if at all – with that realization? When does a lifelong dream transform into obsession? Folsom and Stanton are not interested in whether there is a “correct” way for a toy to exist – note that every toy in this film defines their existence in bringing joy to a child, even those toys have been lucky enough to do so.

After years of late Lasseter-era twist villains and films with so little nuance in trumpeting their vaguely liberal inclusive messages, this is a refreshing change of pace. Whatever answers viewers find will not arrive easily and will change with time. The most worthwhile art tends to be as such.

Toy Story 4′s characters are stand-ins for human relationships with a coat of comedic paint to make the most difficult moments bearable for everyone. To ask so bluntly the nature of meaningful existence might be dismissed in a live-action film as maudlin, manipulative (film is always manipulative; the effectiveness and appropriateness of such manipulation is not beyond criticism). Inside Out (2015) and Coco (2017) are the best recent examples of this from Pixar’s filmography of how animation lowers these barriers to posing such ideas. The studio’s success is not because they created imaginative worlds filled with talking toys, rodents that can cook, or a post-apocalyptic humanity too dependent on technology. Nor is it the storytelling the studio justly prides itself upon. It is because of the raw ideas found within their films, when the excesses of plots are discarded.

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The production design by Bob Pauley (1993′s The Nightmare Before Christmas, all three previous Toy Story films) – in addition to the ever-increasing photorealism of Pixar’s backgrounds and character animation – is superb. Pauley juxtaposes the dusty, earthy antiques store that the film spends much of its runtime with the neon-lit carnival beaming its lights into the night sky. More than the previous Toy Story films, this edition allows the use of colors to help guide the dominant moods in respective scenes. The darker, subdued antiques store scenes lend a feeling that something or some secret lurks around the next cobwebbed corner – evoking claustrophobic spaces, ideological and personal entrapment (the placement of “Midnight, the Stars and You”, which is most famous for its use in 1980′s The Shining, plays a key contribution). The carnival/fair has occasionally been a source of macabre elements or thematic irony in Western cinema; it is a tradition that at least goes as far back to 1920′s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (more recently, and though not a film, the third season of Stranger Things contributes to that tradition). The summer carnival of Toy Story 4 is more liberating than most, leaning into whatever escapist nostalgia the audience holds – of which Toy Story could be a part of. The fourth installment of this series is the most atmospheric; one wishes that the filmmakers could have slowed down a tad to allow a fuller appreciation of the various settings.

Pickier than most film score composers, Randy Newman (1984′s The Natural, 2009′s The Princess and the Frog) nevertheless has become a staple with Pixar and has created, single-handedly, Toy Story’s musical identity. Recorded, in typical Randy Newman, with an enormous orchestra of Los Angeles-area musicians at the 20th Century Fox studio named to honor his uncles (Emil, Lionel, and especially Alfred were gifted composers contracted to Fox), Newman’s ability to integrate musical ideas he has not revisited for twenty or more years with newer motifs is most apparent in the film’s busiest scene. The cue that plays there is “Operation Pull Toy”, which utilizes character- and plot-driven motifs drawn and rearranged beautifully for this newest film. But standing above the rest is “Parting Gifts & New Horizons”, which plays during a fateful moment and a series of fond farewells. The Americana that Randy Newman incorporated through the series and was especially acclaimed for before working on the original Toy Story appears, without restraints, brass instruments backing, and high strings leading. Though not as distinguished as previous Toy Story scores, Newman knows when to pull the emotional strings with his sweeping melodies.

To digress slightly: in isolated parts of Newman’s score (the brief theme beginning at 4:04 of “Parting Gifts & New Horizons” included), I yearn for Newman scoring for an American Western film.

In the recording studio, Tom Hanks (as Woody) and Tim Allen (as Buzz Lightyear) admitted that neither could record their lines without being overwhelmed by emotion. Hanks claimed that he could not even face the crew as he neared his final moments of dialogue. Another member of the cast, Don Rickles (Mr. Potato Head), passed away in April 2017 – well before any voice actors began work on the film. Rickles’ family urged Pixar to see if a performance could be pieced together through archival recordings. Poring over almost a quarter-century of voice work from outtakes and recordings for promotional materials, Disney parks, and video games, a brief, but serviceable performance was spliced together by Pixar. Rickles is credited as Mr. Potato Head in the film and he, along with animator Adam Burke, is one of the film’s two dedicatees.

As a disappointing decade in mainstream American animation closes with sequels and the ignominious departure of a figure central to the industry, Pixar’s artistic future is uncertain. Pixar’s new chief creative officer is Pete Docter (2001′s Monsters, Inc. and Inside Out). Docter, who has been with Pixar since 1990, is not likely to fundamentally transform the studio’s mission – as outlined by Lasseter – or artistic direction. He is noted, however, for imbuing his films with his deep sense of morality. Combined with the fact that Pixar intends to move away from sequels in the immediate future, will the studio regain its form after an inconsistent decade? Toy Story 4 is, by way of its structure and overuse of Forky, the weakest in Pixar’s most venerable series. That standard, however, is comparing greatness with excellence.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

#Toy Story 4 #Josh Cooley #Pixar #Stephany Folsom #Andrew Stanton #John Lasseter #Tom Hanks #Tim Allen #Annie Potts #Tony Hale #Keegan Michael Key #Jordan Peele #Madeleine McGraw #Christina Hendricks #Don Rickles #Keanu Reeves #Ally Maki #Randy Newman #My Movie Odyssey

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maximura · 6 years

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MVM TOP 8 OF 2018: SONGS

This is late and kind of a moot point because my favourite song every year since it’s release is Limitless by NCT 127. But anyways, let’s get into this:

1. Regular by NCT 127. When you’ve recovered from your coronary, hear me out. I have listened to this song every single day since it’s release and I like the contrast between the arrogant flex of the English version and more earnest flex of the Korean version. The raps were good (meaning: Taeyong stayed on beat and didn’t fuck up the rhythm), the lyrics were so ridiculously memorable in both versions (VVS my diamonds, stop hitting my line, bust it for a real one), it’s a jam to gym to and that dance practice is probably my favourite one of theirs so far (Yuta went nuts). The production is tight and there were SO many ad-libs in the background that added to the colour and flavour of the song. Also: they all looked great this era and the MV/teasers had some insanely good editing and lighting. Nobody appreciates how hard it is to light something really well.....I’m such a loser about this, I know okay?

2. Ddaeng by BTS. I’m linking to that fanmade video because it’s actually awesome and the lyrics are there too. On the surface it’s just another fire rap line release but the meaning! the word play! the beat! the backing track! Namjoon’s verse! I really wish this was a legit official release and got it’s own official MV. Whenever I’m ambivalent and fatigued with BTS, I listen to this and I’m right back in. I will also link to this amazing explanation of the lyrics because they really pushed this up to Another Level.

3. Baby Don’t Stop by NCT. ASMR-Rap. Everything about this is tight and perfect. There’s just so much personality and style in this. I don’t have much to criticise, it was all good: the vocals, the rap (again: Taeyong staying on beat and not glitching), the choreo and the location where they shot that MV is such an interesting choice because of the juxtaposition of this sensual song against harsh Brutalism Architecture. Who even thought of that? I don’t know why it works but it does. I love the dance practice so much and every single one of their live stages was solid. And er, Taeyong has never ever looked better than he did during this entire era, especially during the live stages for BDS and Boss.

4. Fake Love (Rock Version) by BTS. I know I know, this predictable as hell. I was tossing up between this and Tear but I genuinely love the lyrics to this more because I feel them on a sharply personal level. BTS are really great at taking depressing concepts and crafting a song you still jam to. This is really the area they excel at and nobody even comes close at the moment. I think a lot of the criticism for this song was because it felt like HYYH Part 1000 and sometimes you just need a break from that. I get it. But this song is still well done if you’ve ever been in a confusing relationship and feel totally suffocated.

5. Tear by BTS. Well. I don’t know what y’all were expecting, they are my bias group when it comes to music. I’ve shown considerable restraint here by only picking three songs! They have plenty of bland music but when they get it right, boy do they get it fucking right. This one is completely tortured, which means I can really relate to it haha. I love the power and bitterness when they spit out the chorus, that really translate through my headphones. The intro instrumental to this is one of my favourite things to be release this year and I wish it was a lot longer and used to more effect because the only word I can use to describe it is: epic. I would love to see them perform this with a full orchestral backing. I’ve been waiting for full on orchestra incorporated into kpop.

6. Goodbye Road by IKON. Contrary to popular belief, Love Scenario is nowhere near being my favourite IKON song (that would be Just Go) because I think Hanbin has written better material than that. This is just one of those songs that is really pleasant, soothing and comforting to listen to but when you read the lyrics, it’s depressing as hell. I really dislike Hanbin’s off-beat rapping but other than that, this song is attached to the time I saw them live in Melbourne last year. Ah, memories.

7. Siren by Sunmi. Retro-Pop. Gashina Part II (sorry Heroine was just not as good). She’s the only who can outdo her own tracks. I’ve seen so many people attempt Gashina Part II but it all sounds like a off-brand copy. I like the attitude, the styling, the jam, the sentiment and she brings so much maturity and gravitas to her tracks. I don’t often watch her perform and leave unconvinced. That’s how you know when someone is a legit performer. This track always makes me feel so positive and lucky to be a woman who doesn’t need a guy if she doesn’t want one.

8. Bad Boy by Red Velvet. I went from disliking this song to really loving it, it only took 10 months but I got there! I am partial to the English version too. The verses are lot stronger than the chorus but I have to say that they brought a lot of personality into this and the MV. I’m kind of sad that they don’t do more songs with this kind of flavour because the darker, Black Widow R&B/Trap vibe really suits them. They’re much too refined to be constantly releasing bullshit like #CookieJar and Power Up, I honestly found those kind of insulting to the group. Anyways, Seulgi’s blunt fringe was my favourite GG styling choice this year.

#probably not what people were expecting?#haha #top songs of 2018 #i had to lock something down bc i change my mind way too much about the order #i can't even get through a music post without mentioning architecture and lighting #sigh #text #nct #bts #ikon #sunmi #red velvet

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Electronicmusic Playlist Megathread

Remember the halcyon days when musical genres had distinct lines? The Vegetable Orchestra created the genre in 1998 after brainstorming about which tough gear they could use to make music. They had been cooking soup that night time anyway, so it made sense that they thought of vegetables. Their musical fashion is influenced by experimental, digital, and pop music. What follows are ten bizarre, wild and epically obscure sub-genres you may not have heard of. Who knows, one could tickle your ear buds and develop into your new favorite band. Or, you know, not. Niche Style communities are comparatively unbound by their world. Quite often, they reach out to genres outdoors their world. The truth is, fifty three 53% of their edges reach not solely outdoors of a given style's dwelling community but additionally outdoors of its world to genres in the Rock or Hip-Hop worlds. Perceive modern classical music. Music from the tip of the Romantic period, around 1915, into the 20th century is taken into account trendy classical music. Modern music is exemplified by numerous moods of utmost. Since the history of music styles are so vast, composers of this period attempted to interrupt new grounds with their compositions. Techno music is classed by its fundamental beatline. It's just like home music and has since developed from it, but with a faster beats per minute and Http://www.audio-Transcoder.com slightly darker tone. Techno music can be recognized by means of repetitive beats that have slow gradual modifications. It typically incorporates industrial and gritty sounds drawing on the period of the industrial revolution when it was first created. Combining traditional Irish musical themes with pop-rock has by no means been straightforward but a gaggle of siblings from the County Louth have pulled it off in fashion and with nice success. Since their formation in 1990, the Corrs have released seven studio albums which have offered forty million worldwide together with numerous singles, two of which, Talk On Corners and Forgiven Not Forgotten have been concurrently number one and two in the UK charts, certainly one of solely a handful of bands ever to have achieved this. The Baroque interval is characterised by strict musical varieties and extremely decorative works. Baroque music began in Europe round 1600. It continued till 1750. As smart as this interactive is, it might also inform us about how genres relate and don't relate to 1 one other. The map is ostensibly organized in order that extra mechanical genres are on the high and extra natural ones on the backside, dense music on the left and mushy, bouncy music on the appropriate. It is generally tough to tell apart between style and type , but they don't seem to be the identical thing. Form refers back to the structure of the music on the web page, while genre is predicated on the performing forces ( voices and instruments ), the purpose or function of the piece (dance, hymn, opera, and so on.), the fashion used, and even the cultural or historic context of the work. Billboard, weekly, would publish a "Pop" chart ("popular" music interesting to probably the most desireable and profitable demographic for promoting products via advertising, in different phrases younger middle-and-higher-class white people in the USA), a "Race" chart (that means the tracking of records played on radio stations that were particularly aimed at African-American listeners), a "Nation" chart, a "Jazz" chart, and others. As the years progressed, the identify and quantity and focus of the charts would shift. These few electronic music genres and sub genres don't even really start to scratch the surface of the various, many electronic influences and sounds out there. For those who're intrigued, however nonetheless feeling a little bit overwhelmed, a broad scope digital music introduction can break it down even additional earlier than you get out and hit the clubs. Once you converse EDM fluently, you possibly can explore skilled music manufacturing for enjoyable and revenue. People music is another fashionable subgenre of country. Folks music takes the narrative focus of nation and intensifies the storytelling. Widespread folks musicians are Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan. As for Bluegrass music, it's usually identified to be primarily centered on unamplified devices. Due to this, the sound has a more in-depth relationship with that of folks music. In addition, vocal harmonies are stated to be fairly distinctive of this style. Sometimes among the many completely different vocal harmonies, different types of music genres in French there may be one which is sung in a better pitch referred to as the excessive lonesome sound". Entertainer personalities may like to entertain, but they hate it when one thing steals the spotlight, as is usually the case with most musical genres. Ambient music, nonetheless, exists extra to accentuate than dominate, highlighting the efficiency of the Entertainers, quite than distracting from it.

The new 12 months is an ideal time to overhaul your music rotation, however in the event you're looking for new songs, you might as properly grow to be familiar with a new genre altogether. BOGDANOV, WOODSTRA, ERLEWINE, (ed.), All Music Information - The Definitive Guide to Common Music, Backbeat Books, San Fransisco, 1998. It does take talent for one techno is a part of style edm which composes of dubstep, techno, trance, etc. It takes expertise to have the ability to really make the sounds come together and never screw up the drop. What different genres are you aware that build up and really do a drop right. That's coming from somebody who favourite music is rock, onerous rock. Funk is a definite style of music originated by African-Americans, e.g., James Brown and his band members (particularly Maceo and Melvin Parker), and groups like The Meters. Funk finest can be acknowledged by its syncopated three towards 4 rhythms; thick bass line (often based mostly on an "on the one" beat); razor-sharp rhythm guitars; chanted or hollered vocals (as that of Marva Whitney or the Bar-Kays); sturdy, rhythm-oriented horn sections; prominent percussion; an upbeat attitude; African tones; danceability; and strong jazz influences (e.g., as within the music of Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, George Duke, Eddie Harris, and others). Lastly all songs that music genre was both lacking or unknown have been eliminated. Also all songs with invalid 12 months enter (less than 1970) have been eliminated. HILBRUNER, M. (2015). "It Ain't No Cake Walk": The Affect of African American Music and Dance on the American Cultural Landscape. Virginia Social Science Journal, 50 seventy three-80. Common music in Kenya. The electrical bass guitar imitates the melodies of the normal Kenyan eight-string lyre referred to as Nyatiti. All issues, good or dangerous, must come an finish, and music traits are not any exception. Welcome to , and today we'll be counting down the Top 10 Music Genres That Died Out.

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