#danish bassist

[n0rdic-kn1ght]

Me, my Viking hat, my sword, and my cool little music room. 😼🎸⚔️

[hotniatheron]

everything about aziraphale is so unappealing to me except for the fact that he's a cunt

[rickytoastcrunch]

The Devil in Angel's Clothing.

heads up, smutty ass Jameson fic about James getting caught in some girly lingerie...

NSFW WARNING

oh yah, for reference, these are the lingerie referenced!.

Everyone has their skeletons. Some are more visible, more malleable, and more sinister than others. For rockstars, that’s just an immediate consequence of a title. James Hetfield of California’s beloved Metallica has always seemed so powerful, so raw and masculine that it didn’t matter what he did. What mattered was the respect you gave and the bullshit you had to put up with. That, at least, was the mindset of newly declared bassist, Jason Newsted. 

Newsted was still fresh, still a picture-perfect boyish freak with big dreams and an even bigger smile. It didn’t matter how many nasty words, pranks, cold shoulders, and even complete disregard were thrown his way. He is a determined man, and that man wanted to be a part of the band that changed his life in more ways than one. Even if it came with its pros and cons… more cons than pros. 

The Damaged Justice tour of ‘88 was an ‘experience’, he’d put it. He was met with an assortment of challenges, a variety of rewards, and all-around enjoyment. But his stage presence didn’t end at the end of the show. Hell, it starts as soon as he wakes up in his hotel room to an intense array of banging on his door, yanking him free from his alcohol-induced rest. 

“Newsted, open the fuckin’ door!” The first voice was the Danish demon himself, Lars Ulrich. Of course. Professional drummer, but full-time pain in the ass. 

“C’mon, dammit, have some fun with us! Don’t hide away in here!” Even if he wasn’t always kind, Kirk Hammett had the least malicious intentions. Or at least, Jason liked to think so. 

It wasn’t really until he heard the voice of brash vocalist, James Hetfield, that he felt a surge of dread. Along with a scratching sound, almost as if a card were being jabbed between the door itself and the lock, a malicious chuckle pierced the silence. 

“You should’ve opened the door, Jase.” 

Jason could barely open his eyes when he saw the three blurry figures rushing him. The extent they’d go to torment him was almost admirable. The creativity behind the desire to annoy, to dominate an imaginary claim was passionate. A passion that Jason wished was present when he approached them with his ideas. He felt rough hands on his shoulders, pinning him back against the tough mattress of his hotel bed. If there were a word that combined groggy, disoriented, exhausted, and annoyed, it’d be the perfect description for the bassist. The smell of alcohol on bad breath, the heat of new bodies in the room, the wild shrill laughter and commotion plus the pair of piercing eyes that stared down at him, was overwhelming to his barely functioning senses. 

“Should’ve opened the door, pansy! Did you really think a cheap hotel lock was gonna save your ass? Fuckin’ idiot.” James grinned down at him, malice, enjoyment, and a mixture of a

certain thrill danced across his facial features. There was something about that glimpse in his eyes, a gleam that implied there were more feelings that Jason couldn’t quite read. There was something almost attractive about James’ weird ability to simply overpower. Jason would probably admire him just a little if he wasn’t on the receiving end of his aggression. 

A wolfish grin paired with a rough voice distracted him from the truly degrading chaos occurring in his hotel, dragging his consciousness through the mud and hanging him up to dry. He felt every drop of alcohol leave his system, feeling painfully sober as he realized his environment. 

Trashed, tattered, ruined beyond belief. An extra fee on his tab. Well, besides the absurd amount of room service, the guys ordered him the night before. 

“Wh-... what the fuck is this, you guys?” the bassist groggily asked, earning a sadistic chuckle from his bandmates. 

He brought himself up, stiffly shuffling to sit against the headboard of his bed, his feet kicking slightly against the sheets. He deeply inhaled through his nose, bringing a hand to his forehead as he tried to take in the new environment. However, the three grins and fixated gaze on him made it even harder to adjust and acknowledge the severity of the damage. Especially when James gestured for Lars and Kirk. 

Wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in fabric, the three men began to flip his mattress, leaving his body to fall off the side, dangerously close to hitting his head on the corner of the nightstand. Immediately curled in a ball, the mattress came crashing down, leaning against the wall. Ironically, Jason felt safer in this complementary cave than outside the hotel room with the boys. He took a moment to catch his breath, his mind running in all directions yet backward at the same time. For a moment, he couldn’t make out the sounds of the retreating men, but one sour note rang clear in his ear. 

“Yeah, welcome to Metallica, faggot.” 

And then the door slammed shut. 

Five words rang in Jason’s ears, even if it’s been about an hour and a half later at this point. Unfortunately, Jason’s morality told him to clean up the best he could, and that’s what he spent that hour and a half doing. Thinking, cleaning, pissing, seething. He wasn’t a violent guy, but part of him wanted to storm into Hetfield’s hotel room and at least give him a good right hook. He knows better, though. He knows better. He thinks he knows better. He does know that James is probably drunk right now, knee-deep in groupies, lounging in fame, relishing in his actions. Not a lick of guilt in the world. Just pride. Pride and an ever-growing ego locked away behind all those muscles. An ego that ditched his humanity for an almost god-like status. 

And before he knew it, he was halfway down the hall. 

There was something about the way James had called him a ‘faggot’. It made him angry, but not because of its implications. No, it was the way that his one word made him feel lesser, subhuman. James spat venom at him with every chance he could get but it was always somehow linked to Jason’s status as a man or his sexuality. Petty shit like that never really bothered him, it just reminded him of his bandmates’ mental age and lack of maturity. James had meant every word he said to the bassist, all possessing some cryptic hidden message. Newsted’s hand rested on the doorknob feeling the cold metal underneath his palm. If his brow furrowed any further, he felt like his veins would pop. His jaw tight, teeth grinding against enamel, he raised his hand to knock. 

But he stopped. He stopped at the sound of shuffling feet. Through the crack of the door, he could smell something sweet. Like… bubblegum sweet. There was faint music, it sounded melodic, almost romantic. A complete contrast from James’ entire persona and behaviors. His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his ear closer, squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to the darling music, almost feeling like he was at his high school prom again. 

My Special Angel by The Vogues. 

Jason’s stomach flipped at the song, his eyebrows furrowing as he wondered what James would be doing listening to a song like that. Before he knew it, his hand was twisting the knob ever so slowly, silently pushing open the silent door. He stuck in his head, his eyes settling on the flickering flames of candles, sickeningly sweet like honey. The bathroom door was open, a light leeching into the dimness of the hotel room. James’ shadow loomed on the wall, tall and broad. However, there was something about his shadow. 

He could make out the motion of his arms, running over himself, tugging fabric onto the skin. He could hear the silkiness of the fabric against James’ skin. James’ hands traced up his leg, a gentle grunt of frustration escaping the larger man’s mouth. Rustling of paper and cardboard could be heard, the sound of the material hitting the floor barely muffled by the music. Jason cursed himself for being this nosy, almost forgetting the original motivation. 

He slowly stuck more of his head into the doorway, furrowing his brow at the thought of what James could be possibly up to. He hadn’t a clue why the larger man wasn’t blacked-out drunk and collapsed on his hotel bed. Instead, he seemed rather sober and aware. Almost precise with his movements. He moved with such grace and satisfaction, that Jason felt like he was watching a piece of art from the door. Swallowing nerves, he stepped further into the room, half his body now stepping into the tempting abyss. 

Hands delicately dressed James as if he were made of porcelain, pulling the fabric up his body once he stepped into the article of unknown clothing. Jason listened as James huffed with slight frustration, snapping himself into whatever finery he so carefully maneuvered. His hands reached back, leaning his head forward to adjust himself from behind. He pulled on the bottom of

the piece before pulling at the straps, setting himself nicely in the fabric. A huff of satisfaction pushed past his lips as he slid into the final piece of attire. 

Jason felt his heart begin to pound as James finished getting dressed, turning off the bathroom light, and stepping into his hotel room. His grayish-blue hues almost bulged out of his head at the sight before him, his lips parting silently as the oxygen in his lungs hitched into a silence.  

James. James Hetfield. Was running his hand through his brushed and soft blonde hair, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering closed as his other hand ran down his side, letting out a sigh of satisfaction at the silky pink lingerie set. What shocked him the most was how well it fit him, almost like it was made for his broad body. 

Something about the material didn’t make him feel as big and broad anymore. It almost… pampered him. Hugging his frame, squeezing and pushing his features into a feminine image that threatened to betray the raging masculinity in James’ heart. Jason burnt each piece of clothing to his brain; A pink floral body suit with a cleavage cut that made Jason’s head spin, a silky thin robe of the same color yet translucent material, these high stockings that meshed well with his skin tone, tight and emphasising the fat of James’ thigh when his skin met the welt of the stocking. And finally, his favorite piece, those velvety pink, floral laced, tight and fitting panties. Jesus fucking Christ, the bassist wondered if he were dying and this was some sort of alcohol-poisoning hallucination he was having.  

He stared closer at the side of James’ face. He looked so clean, so taken care of. So fragile and perfect. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he glanced down at himself, running his hands over his hips and waist again. Jason didn’t remember James having anything close to a fitted form like this, curved and sightly. Even with his stubble of a mustache, he looked so suddenly feminine.

His lips were stained with something that made them look pinker, more flush, and plump. The bassist licked his own instinctively, especially as he watched James flow over to the record player, tilting his head and clicking his tongue at the next song playing. Unamused- or, well, turned off by the song, he switches the record, the scratch of the needle causing Jason to jump. 

The big move occurs, and James bends over to dig through his suitcase. Not at the knees, no, he arches down to rummage through, a deep sigh escaping him as he does so. 

Jason’s breath finally gives in, roughly pushing past his lips in desperation, rudely revealing his position, startling the beautiful piece of artwork in front of him. He watched as James stood straight, body tense with fear and shock. His piercing blue eyes fixated on Jason, who was now fully in the room, standing in front of the door with wide eyes. 

Jason stared in terror. Well, horrified by getting caught. Especially when it hits him that his jeans weren’t this tight before he came in. 

Before he could speak, Hetfield beat him to it. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” The blonde yelled, yet not too loud.

He and Newsted both knew why. 

The bassist struggled to find the words, his eyes stinging from how hard he was staring at his bandmate. He raised his hands in surrender, submitting before the demand to stand down was made. 

“I-I’m so sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just… I, uh… fuck, I’m sorry-” 

James was mortified. It was as if all the anger in his body was replaced with an unfamiliar yet familiar sense of fear and embarrassment. He swallowed, his hands frozen and his eyes narrowing with rage. He breathes in and out through his nose, heavy and angry like a bull. However, he couldn’t move. His hands were clutching the record, his thumb rubbing the paper cover. 

For a moment, Jason felt like he was in control. He swallowed, his jaw tensing before he licked his tongue over his lips, glancing at the nightstand next to his bed. The drawer was partially opened, ominous and promising some sort of erotic item in addition to the guitarist’s attire. He slowly took a step forward, a deep breath inflating and deflating his lungs. He chewed his lip as he looked around the hotel room, trying to piece together the actions he should take. 

“Fuck are you doing?” James questioned, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone. 

“Nothin’, just…” Jason’s eyes trailed up his body, his eyes softening with a sort of awe. Raking in the sight of his features, he appreciates his toned legs and nice thighs, fleshy and soft torso, strong arms, and beautiful face. His body felt like butter, melting at the flustered gaze in his eyes. It made him feel like he was in charge for once. For once. He moved closer, lowering his hands and fixating his eyes on his, a tense blue-on-blue connection. And before he knew it, he was a few feet away from James, his heart loud in his ears. 

“What the fuck, Newsted? I-... I’m not- this isn’t what it looks like, man.” The blonde attempted to reason, his eyebrows furrowing as he found himself backed up against the dresser, the vinyl slipping out of his hands as he braced himself against the cold wooden furniture. 

‘I’m not gonna tell anyone, man. Why would I do that?” Jason reasoned, feeling as if he were reasoning with a frightened animal. A predatory animal, yes, but still scared. “That’s… that’s a nice shade of pink on you-” 

“Don’t be fucking weird, faggot. Quit staring at me…” James grumbled, his eyebrows in a deep furrow as the bassist crept closer. He snarled, a pang of embarrassment and rage rushing up his spine. He spits another insult, expecting Jason to back off. 

“Stop fucking enjoying this, you queer-” 

“I’m the queer? Last time I checked, I’m not prancing around in women’s clothing.” Jason retorted without thinking, matching James’ urgent tone. 

However, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. That’s what he thought as James pushed himself off the dresser roughly grabbing the bassist by his shoulders and squeezing him tight. A lion with its claws deep in its prey. 

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth, Newsted. You barge in here, call me a queer, and you enjoy every second of it. You have no business in here, so you should be lucky I don’t pound your little goddamn ass back to Michigan.” 

Jason knew he meant beating the shit out of him, but the words ‘pound your ass’ made his cheeks flush. James was so close, his breath hot on his face. He couldn’t smell the alcohol anymore. Instead… listerine. It was like James was really taking care of himself like a real chick. He let out a noise that sounded too deep to be a squeak, but too aroused to sound like a grunt. Shit, he was hard. His jeans were too tight on his thighs. 

The situation only got worse once James’ eyes trailed down to Jason’s crotch, his eyebrows furrowing with shock and frustration. He didn’t appreciate the churn he got in his stomach, the sudden butterflies in his chest that caused molten heat to pour into his core. 

Both of them were into it. 

“James…” Jason started, his voice barely a mumble. His eyes focused on the other’s lips, admiring the shine of his gloss. He swallowed, his hands moving up slowly, ghosting James’ body. 

“We… um… I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul. But, uh, I think that…” Jason paused, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he struggled to find the words. His fingertips grazed the silk of James’ bodysuit, his eyes almost fluttering at the sensation of the clothing material. He felt James tense under his touch, hardening against his palms. He shook his head with reassurance, looking up at the vocalist. 

“We can work something out. If you’re down.” Jason spoke so softly, it almost felt like a spell on James. A breath hesitantly pushed past James’ lips, relaxing underneath his fingers. He didn’t seem so convinced yet, however. 

Newsted smiled, his stupid fuckin’ mug giddy like a kid. He cleared his throat, his fingers gently clutching the fabric in his fingers, massaging the silky bodysuit. He looked up at James’ expression, noticing that his anger was replaced by nervous arousal. 

“It’d be a shame to waste such a pretty set like this, yeah?” 

Neither of them could remember how any of this started. James seemed a little pissy at first, leading to a struggle, leading to bodies crashing onto the soft sheets, leading to Jason's lips littering James’ neck with kisses and hickies. James’ head pressed against the pillow, his hands pressing against the headboard of the bed to ground himself. He wasn't too happy with the prepping part, but he was pretty damn happy when Jason slipped right in and brushed his prostate with accuracy and care. He declared himself the happiest man on Earth through groans and hisses. 

Jason couldn’t fathom how fast his head was spinning, how his body managed to melt into James’ with each feverish roll of his hips. His hands clutched tightly onto James’ thigh, resting the crook of his knee against his shoulder. His eyes stared down at the vocalist, huffing lightly with each movement. 

A newly found fetish was discovered for Jason. The feel of silky panties under his palm as he reached one of his hands to pull them to the side. He licked his tongue over his lips, hungrily glaring down at James’ package tucked away behind the fabric. His hands ran over James’ thigh, nails scratching against the thin stocking. He’s in heaven, for sure. 

James’ moans were literal music to his ears. A sweet melody performed for him and him alone. The blonde’s back arched up against Jason’s body, his eyes squeezed shut as hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His hair sprawled across the pillow, his head tilting to the side and desperately rubbing against the soft material. He’d attempt to silence himself occasionally, yet gentle whimpers echoed in his throat, betraying his mute efforts. Jason smiled at his stubbornness, but overall he enjoyed this. He enjoyed how it was him pleasing James like this. 

He enjoyed the addicting power he held ever-so-slightly. 

But at the moment, he could give less of a shit about the power. Not when James was moaning so pretty because of him. He felt him squeeze around him, warmly accepting the stretch. His whole body felt hot, James was like a vacuum forever sucking him in with warm promise. He swallowed the spit that built up in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifted his hips harder, grinding against him, burrowing deeper. 

“You’re so pretty, James... Pretty angel. Just for me.” Jason grinned at James’ annoyed groan, gritting his teeth as Jason’s free hand rubbed up his stomach, his palm tracing the soft flesh over his lingerie. Suddenly, his palm rubbed up to his chest, cupping and squeezing his pec hungrily. 

Rewardingly, a long moan was drawn out from James, his eyes fluttering open before closing again. Jason leaned forward, playfully humming with amusement as his fingers tilted James’ face towards his. 

“No, no, look at me. Please… Look at me.” Jason pleaded, his voice soft and affectionate. 

“C’mon, James. Open up those eyes.” 

“Fuck- faster… f-fuck me faster, and then maybe.” James gruffly replied, remaining stubborn no matter what the circumstances. He knew what Jason wanted, but he wanted something more than this slow and deep fucking pace. 

Jason scoffed, a grin on his face as he leaned forward, sliding James’ leg off his shoulder as he planted his hands on either side of James’ head. He shook his head, his brunette hair ghosting James’ face. “You’re a tease, Hetfield. A fucking tease.” 

New position, new pace. James couldn’t help the flurry of moans that pushed past his lips, his eyebrows curling with pleasure as his mouth hung open. His hands reached up, cupping Jason’s neck, thumbs on either side of his Adam’s apple. He hissed in pleasure, a rattling groan escaping him. 

“Yeah, y-yeah, fuck. Right there, don’t… Don’t you fucking stop, Newsted.” James croaked, his eyes opening to stare up at the bassist. The bed was creaking, egging them both on. 

Jason’s groans become struggling moans, his eyebrows arching and his mouth gaping open. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming, crowding his senses in an enjoyably frantic way. He felt like he was in a goddamn frenzy eyes rolling in its sockets as he continue to pound into James with promise. The bassist felt his hips and back begin to ache, the consequences of fucking so slow for so long. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when his dick was so snug inside of James, not when he was so close, not when he was actually making James feel this good. 

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, James-” The bassist declares, beginning to sit up. Suddenly, Jason was taken off-guard by the sudden shift of movement, James sitting up urgently and propping himself up with one elbow. His hand slithered and grabbed the back of his neck, stopping Jason from sitting up any further and pulling him right back down, pressing their foreheads together regardless of the sticky sweat. 

“No, don’t you stop. Don’t you fucking pull away from me. You better give me every last fucking drop, Newsted. Every last bit of you.” James warned, his eyebrows deeply knitted in a concentrated expression. He could feel the knot in his stomach, threatening to spill over sooner than later. 

Jason nodded his head, supporting James’ neck with both of his hands, pressing himself closer to him as he began to put his all into his pace. He moaned out, his lips ghosting over James’ as the desperate noises of the two men became a seductive symphony, echoing in the room. The bed creaked and groaned, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming louder and desperate as the two men edged closer to finish. 

“My pretty angel, m-my pretty boy. You’re so good, you’re s-so pretty, James.” Jason muttered, moaning against his lips. Desperate wasn’t even the word for his emotions. 

“You mean it?” James found himself muttering a question forced out by the pleasure. His body bucked against Jason, struggling to contain himself. He whined, his eyes rolling back for a moment before glancing back up at Jason. “Say you mean it.” 

Jason instantly nodded his head. “I mean it, I mean it, I-I promise. Please, I mean it.” He smiled through his overwhelming desires, eyes narrowing as he focused on the vocalist’s expression, the blissful pleasure evident on his face. 

James couldn’t even muster a reply, a loud moan escaping him before his breath hitched in his throat, eyes squeezing tight once more. He held him close, pulling him down as his arms wrapped around his neck, tightly embracing him as his body shook with orgasm. He let out a string of moans, each one quieter than the last until he was silent. He felt himself tremble, feeling Jason’s racing heartbeat against him. 

Jason was so blissed out, that he didn’t realize James’ eyes staring up at him. His body shook against James’ as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes heavy as he let out gentle huffs and moans, the aftershock of his orgasm wracking his body. He finally glances down at James, his thumbs gently caressing the sides of his face, lovingly stroking his cheekbones. Naturally, he was an aftercare type of guy, and James looked too pretty to discard right now. He huffed when James tried to jerk away from his touch, smiling at him. 

“Sorry, you’re just… pretty. Too pretty to waste.” Jason muttered, leaning down to get closer to his face. He waited for James to protest, but after a beat of a moment, Jason pressed his lips against James’, sweetly kissing him as a token of gratitude. 

James swallowed, furrowing his eyebrows as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping Jason’s jawline. His lips tasted like strawberry. Flavored lipgloss. What a goddamn sissy he was. Jason liked it, though. Hell, he loved every second. 

“You know, Jason…” James started, muttering against his lips. His blue eyes stared up at Jason’s a teasing grin on his face. 

“I think this was your best idea yet, Newkid. Should do this again, sometime.” James muttered, gently offering an open situation between them. Complex, yet somewhat symbiotic. He could’ve done so without the low blow, but he is James Hetfield himself, after all. 

Jason pretended to be bothered, sucking his teeth and shaking his head lightly. He couldn’t betray the grin on his face, however. He reached up and ran a hand through James’ blonde locks, appreciating the soft locks underneath his fingers. A blessing like this shouldn’t be wasted, and he wasn’t one to deny a kiss from an angel.

“Sure, James. Sure.” 

[tutyayilmazz]

The sheer number of older and more experienced professionals involved in Måneskin introduces a tension between the rock conventions that characterize their songwriting and the fundamentally pop circumstances under which those songs are produced. They are four friends in a band, but that band is inside an enormous machine. From their perspective, though, the machine is good.

The American visitor to Rome arrives with certain preconceptions that feel like stereotypes but turn out to be basically accurate. There really are mopeds flying around everywhere, and traffic seems governed by the principle that anyone can be replaced. Breakfast is coffee and cigarettes. Despite these orthopedic and nutritional hazards, everyone is better looking — not literally everyone, of course, but statistically, as if whatever selective forces that emerge from urban density have had an extra hundred generations or so to work. And they really do talk like that, an emphatic mix of vowels, gestures and car horns known as “Italian.” To be scolded in this language by a driver who wants to park in the crosswalk is to realize that some popular ideas are actually true. Also, it is hot.

The triumphant return to Rome of Måneskin — arguably the only rock stars of their generation, and almost certainly the biggest Italian rock band of all time — coincided with a heat wave across Southern Europe. On that Tuesday in July the temperature hit 107 degrees. The Tiber looked thick, rippled in places and still in others, as if it were reducing. By Thursday morning the band’s vast management team was officially concerned that the night’s sold-out performance at the Stadio Olimpico would be delayed. When Måneskin finally took the stage around 9:30 p.m., it was still well into the 90s — which was too bad, because there would be pyro.

There was no opening act, possibly because no rock band operating at this level is within 10 years of Måneskin’s age. The guitarist Thomas Raggi played the riff to “Don’t Wanna Sleep,” the lights came up and 60,000 Italians screamed. Damiano David — the band’s singer and, at age 24, its oldest member — charged out in black flared trousers and a mesh top that bisected his torso diagonally, his heavy brow and hypersymmetrical features making him look like some futuristic nomad who hunted the fishnet mammoth. Victoria De Angelis, the bassist, wore a minidress made from strips of leather or possibly bungee cords. Raggi wore nonporous pants and a black button-down he quickly discarded, while Ethan Torchio drummed in a vest with no shirt underneath, his hair flying. For the next several minutes of alternately disciplined and frenzied noise, they sounded as if Motley Crüe had been cryogenically frozen, then revived in 2010 with Rob Thomas on vocals.

That hypothetical will appeal to some while repelling others, and which category you fall into is, with all due respect, not my business here. Rolling Stone, for its part, said that Måneskin “only manage to confirm how hard rock & roll has to work these days to be noticed,” and a viral Pitchfork review called their most recent album “absolutely terrible at every conceivable level.” But this kind of thumbs up/thumbs down criticism is pretty much vestigial now that music is free. If you want to know whether you like Måneskin — the name is Danish and pronounced MOAN-eh-skin — you can fire up the internet and add to the more than nine billion streams Sony Music claims the band has accumulated across Spotify, YouTube, et cetera. As for whether Måneskin is good, de gustibus non est disputandum, as previous Italians once said: In matters of taste, there can be no arguments.

You should know, though, that even though their music has been heard most often through phone and laptop speakers, Måneskin sounds better on a soccer field. That is what tens of thousands of fans came to the Stadio Olimpico on an eyelid-scorching Thursday to experience: the culturally-if-not-personally-familiar commodity of a stadium rock show, delivered by the unprecedented phenomenon of a stadium-level Italian rock band. The pyro — 20-foot jets of swivel-articulated flame that you could feel all the way up in the mezzanine — kicked in on “Gasoline,” a song Måneskin wrote to protest Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. From a thrust platform in the center of the field, David poured his full emotive powers into the pre-chorus: “Standing alone on that hill/using your fuel to kill/we won’t take it standing still/watch us dance.”

The effect these words will have on President Putin is unknown. They capture something, though, about rock ’n’ roll, which has established certain conventions over the last seven decades. One of those conventions is an atmosphere of rebellion. It doesn’t have to be real — you probably don’t even want it to be — but neither can it seem too contrived, because the defining constraint of rock as a genre is that you have to feel it. The successful rock song creates in listeners the sensation of defying consensus, even if they are right in step with it.

The need to feel the rock may explain the documented problem of fans’ taste becoming frozen in whatever era was happening when they were between the ages of 15 and 25. Anyone who adolesced after Spotify, however, did not grow up with rock as an organically developing form and is likely to have experienced the whole catalog simultaneously, listening to Led Zeppelin at the same time they listened to Pixies and Franz Ferdinand — i.e. as a genre rather than as particular artists, the way my generation (I’m 46) experienced jazz. The members of Måneskin belong to this post-Spotify cohort. As the youngest and most prominent custodians of the rock tradition, their job is to sell new, guitar-driven songs of 100 to 150 beats per minute to a larger and larger audience, many of whom are young people who primarily think of such music as a historical artifact. Starting this month, Måneskin will take this business on a multivenue tour of the United States — a market where they are considerably less known — whose first stop is Madison Square Garden.

“I think the genre thing is like ... ” Torchio said to me backstage in Rome, making a gesture that conveyed translingual complexity. “We can do a metaphor: If you eat fish, meat and peanuts every day, like for years, and then you discover potatoes one day, you’ll be like: ‘Wow, potatoes! I like potatoes; potatoes are great.’ But potatoes have been there the whole time.” Rock was the potato in this metaphor, and he seemed to be saying that even though many people were just now discovering that they liked it, it had actually been around for a long time. It was a revealing analogy: The implication was that rock, like the potato, is here to stay; but what if rock is, like the potato in our age of abundance, comparatively bland and no longer anyone’s favorite?

Which rock song came first is a topic of disagreement, but one strong candidate is “Rocket 88,” recorded by Ike Turner and his Kings of Rhythym band in 1951. It’s about a car and, in its final verse, about drinking in the car. These themes capture the context in which rock ’n’ roll emerged: a period when household incomes, availability of consumer goods and the share of Americans experiencing adolescence all increased simultaneously.

Although and possibly because rock started as Black music, it found a gigantic audience of white teenagers during the so-called British Invasion of the mid-1960s (the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who), which made it the dominant form of pop music for the next two decades. The stadium/progressive era (Journey, Fleetwood Mac, Foreigner) that now constitutes the bulk of classic-rock radio gave way, eventually, to punk (the Ramones, Patti Smith, Minor Threat) and then glam metal: Twisted Sister, Guns N’ Roses and various other hair-intensive bands that were obliterated by the success of Nirvana and Pearl Jam in 1991. This shift can be understood as the ultimate triumph of punk, both in its return to emotive content expressed through simpler arrangements and in its professed hostility toward the music industry itself. After 1991, suspicion of anything resembling pop became a mark of seriousness among both rock critics and fans.

It is probably not a coincidence that this period is also when rock’s cultural hegemony began to wane. As the ’90s progressed, larger and again whiter audiences embraced hip-hop, and the last song classified as “rock” to reach No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 was Nickelback’s “How You Remind Me” in 2001. The run of bands that became popular during the ’00s — the Strokes, the Killers, Kings of Leon — constituted rock’s last great commercial gasp, but none of their singles charted higher than No. 4. Let us say, then, that the era of rock as pop music lasted from 1951 to 2011. That’s a three-generation run, if you take seriously rock’s advice to get drunk and have sex in the car and therefore produce children at around age 20. Baby boomers were the generation that made rock a zillion-dollar industry; Gen X saved it from that industry with punk and indie, and millennials closed it all out playing Guitar Hero.

The members of Måneskin are between the ages of 22 and 24, situating them firmly within the cadre of people who understand rock in the past tense. De Angelis, the bassist, and Raggi, the guitarist, formed the band when they were both attending a music-oriented middle school; David was a friend of friends, while Torchio was the only person who responded to their Facebook ad seeking a drummer. There are few entry-level rock venues in Rome, so they started by busking on the streets. In 2017, they entered the cattle-call audition for the Italian version of “The X Factor.” They eventually finished as runners-up to the balladeer Lorenzo Licitra, and an EP of songs they performed on the show was released by Sony Music and went triple platinum.

In 2021, Måneskin won the Sanremo Music Festival, earning the right to represent Italy with their song “Zitti e Buoni” (whose title roughly translates to “shut up and behave”) in that year’s Eurovision Song Contest. This program is not widely viewed in the United States, but it is a gigantic deal in Europe, and Måneskin won. Not long after, they began to appear on international singles charts, and “I Wanna Be Your Slave” broke the British Top 10. A European tour followed, as well as U.S. appearances at festivals and historic venues.

This ascent to stardom was not unmarred by controversy. The Eurovison live broadcast caught David bending over a table offstage, and members of the media accused him of snorting cocaine. David insisted he was innocent and took a drug test, which he passed, but Måneskin and their management still seem indignant about the whole affair. It’s exactly this kind of incongruous detail — this damaging rumor that a rock star did cocaine — that highlights how the Italian music-consuming public differs from the American one. Many elements of Måneskin’s presentation, like the cross-dressing and the occasional male-on-male kiss, are genuinely upsetting to older Italians, even as they seem familiar or even hackneyed to audiences in the United States.

“They see a band of young, good-looking guys that are dressing up too much, and then it’s not pure rock ’n’ roll, because you’re not in a garage, looking ugly,” De Angelis says. “The more conservative side, they’re shocked because of how we dress or move onstage, or the boys wear makeup.”

She and her bandmates are caught between two demographics: the relatively conservative European audience that made them famous and the more tolerant if not downright desensitized American audience that they must impress to keep the ride moving. And they do have to keep it moving, because — like many rock stars before them — most of the band dropped out of high school to do this. At one point, Raggi told me that he had sat in on some classes at a university, “Just to try to understand, ‘What is that?’”

One question that emerged early in my discussions with Måneskin’s friendly and professional management team was whether I was going to say that their music was bad. This concern seemed related to the aforementioned viral Pitchfork review, in which the editor Jeremy Larson wrote that their new album, “RUSH!” sounds “like it’s made for introducing the all-new Ford F-150” and “seems to be optimized for getting busy in a Buffalo Wild Wings bathroom” en route to a score of 2.0 (out of 10). While the members of Måneskin seemed to take this review philosophically, their press liaisons were concerned that I was coming to Italy to have a similar type of fun.

Here I should disclose that Larson edited an essay I wrote for Pitchfork about the Talking Heads album “Remain in Light” (score: 10.0) and that I think of myself as his friend. Possibly because of these biases, I read his review as reflecting his deeply held and, among rock fans, widely shared need to feel the music, something that the many pop/commercial elements of “RUSH!” (e.g. familiar song structures, lyrics that seem to have emerged from a collaboration between Google Translate and Nikki Sixx, compulsive use of multiband compression) left him unable to do.

This perspective reflects the post-’90s rock consensus (PNRC) that anything that sounds too much like a mass-market product is no good. The PNRC is premised on the idea that rock is not just a structure of song but also a structure of relationship between the band and society. From rock’s earliest days as Black music, the real or perceived opposition between rocker and society has been central to its appeal; this adversarial relationship animated the youth and counterculture eras of the ’60s and then, when the economic dominance of mass-market rock made it impossible to believe in, provoked the revitalizing backlash of punk. Even major labels felt obliged to play into this paradoxical worldview, e.g. that period after Nirvana when the most popular genre of music was called “alternative.” Måneskin, however, are defined by their isolation from the PNRC. They play rock music, but operate according to the logic of pop.

In Milan, where Måneskin would finish their Italian minitour, I had lunch with the band, as well as two of their managers, Marica Casalinuovo and Fabrizio Ferraguzzo. Casalinuovo had been an executive producer working on “The X Factor,” and Ferraguzzo was its musical director; around the time that Måneskin broke through, Casalinuovo and Ferraguzzo left the show and began working with the stars it had made. We were at the in-house restaurant of Moysa, the combination recording studio, soundstage, rehearsal space, offices, party venue and “creative playground” that Ferraguzzo opened two months earlier. After clarifying that he was in no way criticizing major record labels and the many vendors they engaged to record, promote and distribute albums, he laid out his vision for Moysa, a place where all those functions were performed by a single corporate entity — basically describing the concept of vertical integration.

Ferraguzzo oversaw the recording of “RUSH!” along with a group of producers that included Max Martin, the Swedish hitmaker best known for his work with Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears. At Moysa, Ferraguzzo played for me Måneskin’s then-unreleased new single, “Honey (Are U Coming?)” which features many of the band’s signature moves — guitar and bass playing the same melodic phrases at the same time, unswung boogie-type rhythm of the post-Strokes style — but also has David singing in a higher register than usual. I listened to it first on studio monitors and then through the speaker of Ferraguzzo’s phone, and it sounded clean and well produced both times, as if a team of industry veterans with unlimited access to espresso had come together to perfect it.

The sheer number of older and more experienced professionals involved in Måneskin introduces a tension between the rock conventions that characterize their songwriting and the fundamentally pop circumstances under which those songs are produced. They are four friends in a band, but that band is inside an enormous machine. From their perspective, though, the machine is good.

“There’s hundreds of people working and talking about you and giving opinions,” De Angelis said at lunch. “So if you start to get in this loop of wanting to know and control and being anxious about it, it really ruins everything.” Here lies the conflict between what the PNRC wants from a band — resistance to outside influences, contempt for commerce, authenticity as measured in doing everything themselves — and what any sane 23-year-old would want, which is to have someone with an M.B.A. make all the decisions so she can concentrate on playing bass.

The other way Måneskin is isolated from the PNRC is geographic. Over the course of lunch, it became clear that they had encyclopedic knowledge of certain eras in American rock history but were only dimly aware of others. Raggi, for instance, loves Motley Crüe and has an album-by-album command of the Los Angeles hair-metal band Skid Row, which he and his bandmates seemed to understand were supposed to be guilty pleasures. But none of them had ever heard of Fugazi, the post-hardcore band whose hatred of major labels, refusal to sell merchandise and commitment to keeping ticket prices as low as possible set the standard for a generation of American rock snobs. In general, Måneskin’s timeline of influences seems to break off around 1990, when the rock most respected by Anglophone critics was produced by independent labels that did not have strong overseas distribution. It picks up again with Franz Ferdinand and the “emo” era of mainstream pop rock. This retrospect leaves them unaware of the indie/punk/D.I.Y. period that was probably most important in forming the PNRC.

The question is whether that consensus still matters. While snobs like Larson and me are overrepresented in journalism, we never constituted a majority of rock fans. That’s the whole point of being a snob. And snobbery is obsolete anyway; digital distribution ended the correlation between how obscure your favorite band was and how much effort you put into listening to them. The longevity of rock ’n’ roll as a genre, meanwhile, has solidified a core audience that is now between the ages of 40 and 80, rendering the fan-versus-society dimension of the PNRC impossible to believe. And the economics of the industry — in which streaming has reduced the profit margin on recorded music, and the closure of small venues has made stadiums and big auditoriums the only reliable way to make money on tour — have decimated the indie model. All these forces have converged to make rock, for the first time in its history, merely a way of writing songs instead of a way of life.

Yet rock as a cluster of signifiers retains its power around the world. In the same way everyone knows what a castle is and what it signifies, even though actual castles are no longer a meaningful force in our lives, rock remains a shared language of cultural expression even though it is no longer determining our friendships, turning children against their parents, yelling truth at power, et cetera. Also like a castle, a lot of people will pay good money to see a preserved historical example of rock or even a convincing replica of it, especially in Europe.

In Milan, the temperature had dropped 20 degrees, and Måneskin’s show at Stadio Giuseppe Meazza — commonly known as San Siro, the largest stadium in Italy, sold out that night at 60,000 — was threatened by thunderstorms instead of record-breaking heat. Fans remained undaunted: Many camped in the parking lot the night before in order to be among the first to enter the stadium. One of them was Tamara, an American who reported her age as 60½ and said she had skipped a reservation to see da Vinci’s “Last Supper” in order to stay in line. “When you get to knocking on the door, you kind of want to do what you want,” she said.

The threat of rain was made good at pretty much the exact moment the show began. The sea of black T-shirts on the pitch became a field of multicolored ponchos, and raindrops were bouncing visibly off the surface of the stage. David lost his footing near the end of “I Wanna Be Your Slave,” briefly rolling to his back, while De Angelis — who is very good at making lips-parted-in-ecstasy-type rock faces — played with her eyes turned upward to the flashing sky, like a martyr.

The rain stopped in time for “Kool Kids,” a punk-inspired song in which David affects a Cockney accent to sing about the vexed cultural position of rock ’n’ roll: “Cool kids, they do not like rock/they only listen to trap and pop.” These are probably the Måneskin lyrics most quoted by music journalists, although they should probably be taken with a grain of salt, considering that the song also contains lyrics like “I like doin’ things I love, yeah” and “Cool kids, they do not vomit.”

“Kool Kids” was the last song before the encore, and each night a few dozen good-looking 20-somethings were released onto the stage to dance and then, as the band walked off, to make we’re-not-worthy bows around Raggi’s abandoned guitar. The whole thing looked at least semichoreographed, but management assured me that the Kool Kids were not professional dancers — just enthusiastic fans who had been asked if they wanted to be part of the show. I kept trying to meet the person in charge of wrangling these Kool Kids, and there kept being new reasons that was not possible.

The regular kids, on the other hand, were available and friendly throughout. In Rome, Dorca and Sara, two young members of a Måneskin fan club, saw my notebook and shot right over to tell me they loved the band because, as Sara put it, “they allow you to be yourself.” When asked whether they felt their culture was conservative in ways that prevented them from being themselves, Dorca — who was 21 and wearing eyeglasses that looked like part of her daily wardrobe and a mesh top that didn’t — said: “Maybe it turns out that you can be yourself. But you don’t know that at first. You feel like you can’t.”

Here lies the element of rock that functions independently from the economics of the industry or the shifting preferences of critics, the part that is maybe independent from time itself: the continually renewed experience of adolescence, of hearing and therefore feeling it all for the first time. But how disorienting must those feelings be when they have been fully monetized, fully sanctioned — when the response to your demand to rock ’n’ roll all night and party every day is, “Great, exactly, thank you.” In a culture where defying consensus is the dominant value, anything is possible except rebellion. It must be strange, in this post-everything century, to finally become yourself and discover that no one has any problem with that.

[jazzandother-blog]

An unrepeatable generation coming to an end. RIP Roy Haynes (1925-2024).

Roy Haynes en una actuación en 2015 (Jack Vartoogian/Getty Images)

(English / Español / Italiano)

The jazz drummer Roy Haynes, who played with other jazz greats such as Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Chick Corea, Sarah Vaughan, Thelonius Monk, Miles Davis, Bud Powell and Pat Metheny, died on Tuesday 12 November at the age of 99.

His daughter, Leslie Haynes-Gilmore, told The New York Times that her father, born in Roxbury, now part of Boston, on 13 March 1925, died after a brief illness.

Haynes was considered one of the most remarkable jazz drummers of all time, with an extensive career during which he collaborated with the most prominent jazz musicians in his country. Haynes was still a teenager when he made his professional debut in the 1940s in the big bands of Frankie Newton and Louis Russell (1945-1947).

He then went on to play with tenor sax master Lester Young (1947-1949) and between 1949 and 1952 was part of Charlie Parker's quintet. He accompanied the singer Sarah Vaughan on the jazz circuits in the United States between 1953 and 1958 and when he finished that job he recorded with Thelonious Monk, George Shearing and Lennie Tristano among others and occasionally replaced Elvin Jones in John Coltrane's quartet.

He was involved in the direction of the original soundtrack for the film Bird, directed by Clint Eastwood in 1988, and was awarded the 1994 Danish Jazzpar Prize.

In the late 1990s, Haynesformed a trio with pianist Danilo Pérez and bassist John Pattitucci, and they recorded an album: The Roy Haynes Trio featuring Danilo Pérez & John Pattitucci (2000). In 2001 he released Birds of a Feather: A Tribute to Charlie Parker, followed by Love Letters (2003), and Quite Fires and Fountain of Youth, both from 2004, the year he was inducted into the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame.

His last album was Whereas, released in 2006.

In 2011 he received the Grammy Award for his artistic career.

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El baterista de jazz Roy Haynes, que tocó con otros grandes de ese género musical, como Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Chick Corea, Sarah Vaughan, Thelonius Monk, Miles Davis, Bud Powell o Pat Metheny, ha fallecido este martes 12 de noviembre, a los 99 años.

Su hija, Leslie Haynes-Gilmore, dijo al diario The New York Times que su padre, nacido en Roxbury, hoy parte de Boston, el 13 de marzo de 1925, murió después de una breve enfermedad.

Haynes era considerado uno de los más notables bateristas de jazz de todos los tiempos, con una extensa carrera durante la cual colaboró con los más destacados músicos del género en su país. Haynes todavía era un adolescente cuando hizo su debut profesional en los años 40 en las "big bands" de Frankie Newton y Louis Russell (1945-1947).

Luego pasó a tocar con el maestro del saxo tenor Lester Young (1947-1949) y entre 1949 y 1952 formó parte del quinteto de Charlie Parker. Acompañó a la cantante Sarah Vaughan, por los circuitos del jazz en los Estados Unidos entre 1953 y 1958 y cuando finalizó ese trabajo grabó con Thelonious Monk, George Shearing y Lennie Tristano entre otros y ocasionalmente sustituía a Elvin Jones en el cuarteto de John Coltrane.

Participó en la dirección de la banda sonora original de la película Bird, dirigida por Clint Eastwood en 1988, y fue premiado en 1994 con el premio Danish Jazzpar.

A finales de los años 90, Haynes formó un trío con el pianista Danilo Pérez y el bajista John Pattitucci, y grabaron un disco: The Roy Haynes Trío featuring Danilo Pérez & John Pattitucci (2000). En el año 2001 publicó Birds of a Feather: A Tribute to Charlie Parker, al que siguieron Love Letters (2003), y Quite Fires y Fountain of Youth, ambos de 2004, año en el que entró en el Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame.

Su último disco publicado fue Whereas, de 2006.

En 2011 recibió el Premio Grammy a la carrera artística.

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Il batterista Roy Haynes, che ha suonato con altri grandi del jazz come Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Chick Corea, Sarah Vaughan, Thelonius Monk, Miles Davis, Bud Powell e Pat Metheny, è morto martedì 12 novembre all'età di 99 anni.

Sua figlia, Leslie Haynes-Gilmore, ha dichiarato al New York Times che suo padre, nato a Roxbury, ora parte di Boston, il 13 marzo 1925, è morto dopo una breve malattia.

Haynes è stato considerato uno dei più notevoli batteristi jazz di tutti i tempi, con una lunga carriera durante la quale ha collaborato con i più importanti musicisti jazz del suo Paese. Haynes era ancora un adolescente quando fece il suo debutto professionale negli anni '40 nelle big band di Frankie Newton e Louis Russell (1945-1947).

Ha poi suonato con il maestro del sax tenore Lester Young (1947-1949) e tra il 1949 e il 1952 ha fatto parte del quintetto di Charlie Parker. Accompagnò la cantante Sarah Vaughan nei circuiti jazz degli Stati Uniti tra il 1953 e il 1958 e, una volta terminato questo lavoro, registrò tra gli altri con Thelonious Monk, George Shearing e Lennie Tristano e occasionalmente sostituì Elvin Jones nel quartetto di John Coltrane.

Ha partecipato alla direzione della colonna sonora originale del film Bird, diretto da Clint Eastwood nel 1988, ed è stato premiato con il Danish Jazzpar Prize del 1994.

Alla fine degli anni Novanta Haynes haformato un trio con il pianista Danilo Pérez e il bassista John Pattitucci, con cui ha registrato un album: The Roy Haynes Trio featuring Danilo Pérez & John Pattitucci (2000). Nel 2001 ha pubblicato Birds of a Feather: A Tribute to Charlie Parker, seguito da Love Letters (2003) e da Quite Fires e Fountain of Youth, entrambi del 2004, anno in cui è stato inserito nella Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame.

Il suo ultimo album è stato Whereas, pubblicato nel 2006.

Nel 2011 ha ricevuto il Grammy Award per la sua carriera artistica.

Source: RTVE.es/EFE

[bohemianboynton]

(originally from my other blog, maneskingroupie)

Your Biggest Fan (Thomas Raggi x f!reader)

A/N: I wrote this over the course of two days lol

Warnings: none except the mention of the ESC 2021 drug scandal

Word count: 956

It all started in 2015. You were a teenage exchange student living in Rome, and you had a few classmates who were in a band. They were just beginning their careers, but you could tell that they were going to be better as time passed. 

Somehow, though, you managed to befriend them: Victoria, the bassist; Damiano, the lead singer; Thomas, the guitarist; and Ethan, the drummer. Together, they were known as Måneskin, a nod to Victoria’s half Danish heritage. You were among their first fans, and you were around their age. Even when it was time to return home, you kept in touch with them on social media through Instagram and WhatsApp. You learned Roman phrases with them over text while at the airport in your home country and you still supported them, albeit from a distance.

You found them all to be rather cute, but Thomas in particular caught your eye. With his awkward teenage boy appearance, his braces and the long blonde hair covering his face, your teenage brain found him irresistible. Almost every day, when there was time between both of your schoolwork and when the time difference would allow it, you would talk with Thomas through texting. Reading his texts made you giggle and blush, like every teenage girl getting a reply from their crush. Except that he was now becoming an Italian celebrity, thanks to the band’s appearance on the Italian version of X Factor.

A few years passed, you and your international musician friends all graduated school, and now you were all grown up and ready to head out into the world. Flash forward to 2020, you’re trying to apply for an Italian visa so you could finally get together with your friends after talking about it for what seemed like ages now. Then covid hit, and it hit Italy hard. So, your plans were halted. But you kept up with them through texts and social media, like you had before. No big deal. 

However, something changed drastically in your world as things were getting back to normal. Thomas had posted a photo of himself with a woman, who you figured out was his girlfriend. This wasn’t really a shock, considering the other band members had relationships of their own as well. But seeing him with someone after talking to him all these years stung a little. But you moved on after seeing him so happy with her. 

By the time your visa was approved, it was time for Festival di Sanremo in Italy, and your beloved band and friends were competing in the televised festival. The night before the final day of Sanremo, you met up with your friends and caught up in person at a small restaurant. Chatting and light drinking ensued, and you kept staring at Thomas to the point where he kept asking you what was wrong. Each time that he caught you looking, you turned away and mumbled that you were just staring off into space and not looking at him. But the truth was that you had fallen head over heels with him once again after seeing his face in person. He was definitely no longer the awkward boy you had a little crush on all those years ago, and he had grown into a rather attractive young man. 

The next day, you were glued to the tv set in your hotel room, at the edge of your seat. The winners were being announced, and you waited with baited breath while watching your friends embrace each other and be embraced by their former X Factor judge, a rapper known as Fedez. 

Måneskin won. They won Sanremo. They would go on to Eurovision now. 

You were ecstatic for your contest winning friends, and now you could watch them compete in the biggest international musical competition in the world. It seemed so crazy that these guys were once the kids you saw in school talent shows, performing mostly cover songs. Now they had a new album out, a rage filled hard rock album that you loved the absolute hell out of. And now they had won Sanremo. 

The 2021 Eurovision Song Contest came closer and closer, and with each day, you could feel the excitement between them, you, and what seemed like every person on Earth, especially after they won the contest. The excitement didn’t stop at the victory and the growing international fanbase however, a drug scandal emerged. Damiano had to pick up a broken glass that Thomas had dropped and it appeared to look as if he was snorting cocaine. 

The controversy died down after Damiano’s drug test came back negative of course. You knew that a drug test would come back negative anyway, nobody in the band did any drugs. With the exception of cigarettes and alcohol, if you consider those to be drugs. 

Flash forward once again to the present day, less than a few months after Eurovision. Your visa is about to expire, so you plan on bidding your friends farewell again tomorrow. Suddenly, your phone goes off. It’s Thomas blowing up your messages. He’s asking about learning English, interviews, and telling you about the planned tour. You answer his texts with short replies. You tell him that it’s because you're busy packing your belongings in a suitcase, but in reality, it's not just that. Paparazzi photos of him and his girlfriend out and about on a date were published the previous day, and when you saw them, that stinging bitter feeling of jealousy came back. You knew that Thomas didn’t know about your feelings and therefore wasn’t trying to hurt you. Nor was the woman he was dating.

You slid your phone into your pocket and left the hotel room.

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 12.25

Beer Birthdays

Stephan Moninger (1827)

Adam Eulberg (1855)

Curtis Cassidy (1985)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Humphrey Bogart; actor (1899)

Cab Calloway; jazz singer, bandleader (1907)

Annie Lennox; pop singer (1954)

Isaac Newton; English scientist (1642)

Rod Serling; writer (1924)

Famous Birthdays

Clara Barton; humanitarian, Red Cross founder (1821)

Jimmy Buffett; pop singer (1946)

Robin Campbell; rock guuitarist, singer (1954)

Carlos Castaneda; anthropologist, writer (1931)

Helena Christensen; Danish model (1968)

Quentin Crisp; wit, writer (1908)

Larry Csonka; Miami Dolphins RB (1946)

Dido; Australian pop singer (1971)

Kenny Everett; English comedian (1944)

Doug Ferrari; comedian (1956)

Lew Grade; television producer (1906)

Rickey Henderson; Oakland A's LF (1958)

Conrad Hilton; hotelier (1887)

Barbara Mandrell; country singer (1948)

Tony Martin; singer (1913)

Irish McCalla; actor (1929)

Alannah Myles; pop singer, songwriter (1958)

Evelyn Nesbit; model (1884)

Kid Ory; jazz trombonist, bandleader (1886)

Noel Redding; rock bassist (1945)

Robert L. Ripley; cartoonist (1893)

Karl Rove; political wing nut, psychopath (1950)

Pete Rugolo; jazz arranger, bandleader (1915)

Helena Rubenstein; make-up maker (1870)

Saladin; Egyptian, Syrian sultan (1137)

Sissy Spacek; actor (1949)

Ken Stabler; Oakland Raiders QB (1945)

[caviarsonoro]

Song To An Old Friend · Jakob Bro · Joe Lovano · Larry Grenadier · Thomas Morgan · Anders Christensen · Joey Baron · Jorge Rossy

Song To An Old Friend, part of the ECM catalog (2022), transcends musical language to deliver a profoundly emotional and contemplative experience. Led by Danish guitarist Jakob Bro, the track gathers an outstanding ensemble of musicians, including Joe Lovano, Larry Grenadier, Thomas Morgan, Anders Christensen, Joey Baron, and Jorge Rossy, in a performance that feels both intimate and expansive.

The piece builds upon a minimalist framework, with Jakob Bro’s guitar crafting soundscapes full of space and resonance. Joe Lovano’s saxophone provides a warm and evocative melodic voice, while the rhythm section —featuring bassists Larry Grenadier and Thomas Morgan, along with the subtle percussion of Baron and Rossy— establishes a delicate foundation that suggests motion without rushing.

The melancholic tone of Song To An Old Friend seems to pay tribute to a memory, a place, or a lost relationship, allowing each musician to contribute a personal nuance. The melodic lines remain intentionally open-ended, leaving space for the listener's interpretation. This characteristic ECM approach ensures that the nuances of silence are as significant as the notes themselves.

The result is a deeply moving piece that blends lyricism and abstraction. Song To An Old Friend encapsulates the essence of what Jakob Bro and ECM have cultivated: music that breathes, reflects, and organically connects with human emotions. A work best enjoyed in solitude, to fully appreciate its beauty and subtlety.

[mitamicah]

Two days ago I arrived home from the last of the See You Soon tour dates I will be attending and wow it was such a ride I have been pretty much walking in and out of existence and longingly daydreaming all day. So here’s my experience at the different gigs.

Tldr; Helsinki one was me in the seats – cozy first concert and bit of warmup for both me and the band – and Hojan!!; Helsinki two had much more energy and good vibes yet strict security made it so a few people had to almost faint before we got offered water… also I missed Jere by one and a half hours; Malmö was the one were I kept winning and I am still in awe this day even happened; Gothenburg was great especially for interactions between the members of the band although I wasn’t keen on the queue location.

Helsinki 1+2 I have decided to put these two together since they were at the same place and because I am very late to write this. I had seating tickets to the first show, so me and Anniina (@formulalakana) spend the day being käärijä city tourists in Vantaa. After that we went to Käbnb (I’d rented it for the weekend) and fanboyed some more over the apartment and wearing the bolero. Since the apartment was an hour away, we only just joined the queue right before opening of general entry at 5.50.

The show was great. If I am asked to describe it with one word, I’ll chose cozy which might seem like an odd word to use about a Joker Out show. In my defense I had been up since 4 am and had a whole day behind me of getting excited over käärijä stuff (also since I was staying at käbnb). I loved hearing the new songs (Sta Bih Ja and Bluza) live together with seeing Hojan join the encore. I was glad we got Metulji so we could use the cute little butterflies we got from people at the queue to hold up in the air (it was really quite pretty from the back). I remember thinking how Jan must’ve been warm in his furcoat on stage and that I appreciated the little hints back to Stozice with the outfits like Nace’s leg chain.

Tbh I mostly just took this gig as a warmup where I filmed lots of the songs and took in the vibe, now that I couldn’t really jump around myself. The guys might have needed time to get back into touring because I talked with some people yesterday that agreed that the band had been great if a little held back on the first day.

On the second day I joined the queue around 10.10. It was amazing meeting up with old and new faces. Everybody got so excited about being gifted stickers that I ran out a few hours before lining up for the queue started. In turn I got so many nice wristbands as well I think I managed to beat the record of most bracelets gifted to me in a day which had been Berlin previously.

Today’s vibe was completely different; there was way more energy from the stage and from the crowd, the latter possibly because I was in the pit this time, four rows from the stage. I had decided to wear my häärijä suit for the occasion together with a little Danish flag that I kept waving in the air. I was with a strong Nace girlie so we had placed ourselves by Nace and Jan. She got a few genuine smiles and nods from the bassist.

Katrina was a good opening song and while I haven’t listened much to Galaxy of Me/Behind Those Eyes/Schlager since hearing it live I remember enjoying it quite nicely. Padam was gorgeous as a piano ballad! Nace looked adorable in his glasses and holed blouse, and I enjoyed Kris’ outfit a lot. However the pit did get quite hot at one point so a few people around seemed to be feint and the security guards didn’t want to give us water until we directly cried out for help then they suddenly wanted to give us all the water we could muster. Other than that the experience was great! I felt my stomach drop hard at one point and I realized it was because Bojan’s eyes were locked with mine for solid five seconds. I loved that we got Kris bullied into singing NVGOT for the encore.

I felt almost as a celebrity when people complemented my häärijä cosplay (or Dojan as somebody later called me; the Danish Hojan). I even got asked for an autograph where I had to break it to them that I wasn’t the “real deal” yet they still wanted the autographs for the funsies.

After the concert a good portion of people collected outside by the tourbus and played Everybody’s Waiting over and over. I joined for a time yet felt ambivalent about it all given I could imagine how intimidating it must be for the band seeing such a big group of people standing around like this. Anniina suggested we catch the last bus home around 0.30 and I agreed it was probably for the best. The bus at the Pasilla station didn’t want to open its doors for me although I stood with my face more or less on the door window so I had to wait for another less convenient bus that left me gliding and sliding on ice home for 1,5 km. That together with learning the next day that had I waited one and a half hours more I could’ve met not only Bojan and Jan, but Jere soured my mood a bit I must admit. I bought myself the 3xl käärijä shirt that was offered as a nightgown and went to gift Jere his little gift (Helsinki sticker and Bojere keychain) but got lost so I had to hand in the letter at the Warner Bros Studios instead of the käärijä fanmail box – for this reason I am not sure if Jere will ever get it sadly.

All in all some great concerts although what I think I mostly will remember this trip for was the amount of käärijä related firsts that I got (first time seeing the mural, first time tasting oddly good, first time trying on the bolero, you name it) together with the joker out firsts as well (first concert, first time hearing the new songs etc. etc.)

Trinkets from the Helsinki shows including doodle from @ya-boi-joule , wrapping paper @formulalakana was so kind to buy and safe for me, merch and the many lovely bracelets and stickers :D Not shown here are the cool sparklative pin that @hazzybat made (and the cute kangaroo keychain I also got from Haz) together with the homemade Bojan earring I've basically worn nonstop since xD

Malmö I had thought about adding the two Sweden shows together but honestly the vibes were too different for me to do so.

I had gotten early entry to Malmö, so I had probably put way too much weight on making this gig the best of the bunch. For this reason, I woke up at 4 so I could be at the venue around 9. I was met by the oddest and most chill queue I have ever seen. By now point were we more than 15-20 people present before the line was formed at 5. I had been fairly certain that the only of my many goals (x) I would be able to accomplish would be gifting all my stickers away but spoilers; that didn’t happen.

At soundcheck I managed to get second row in the middle between Bojan and Kris (very strategic of me since two of my goals were related to Bojan and Kris respectfully). Having told quite a few people in the queue about my dream of getting Bojan to see my sign I had so many eyes on me cheering me on that I didn’t hesitate to throw my silly sign in the air. Bojan hesitated even less and agreed immediately (I might do another post about the whole experience with the tattoo when I have it done). In return I gave him the pencilcase full of gift and he looked at it confused until he read the little sign and said with a smile ‘gifts :D’. So that was two of the goals I had been so scared I wouldn’t in a million years be able to accomplish and the show hadn’t even started. When he later got down to slide his hand over ours I ended up being the awkward boy in the room going for a handshake (don’t know what I was thinking tbh) so instead Bojan held his hand in mind so gently for like a minute and locked eyes with me. Safe to say I was on cloud nine after that soundcheck.

The energy that had been great in Helsinki day 2 was somehow even better in Malmö! The band was fully on and so were we in the crowd. Jure wore what looked like a simplified Stozice shirt aka just a harness with a diamond down his chest. Kris and Bojan complimented each other, one wearing blue pants and the other a blue shirt and then the other way around with white shirt and white pants.

We started out strong with Sunny Side of London which I honestly hadn’t expected given I hadn’t heard it in Helsinki at all (and I haven’t looked too much into the setlist of the other dates). But that was not all: We got the demoni scream!! And NVGOT!! Padam was gorgeous as a piano ballad yet again. Me and Bojan held eye contact while screaming the bridge to Bluza together. So many different versions of Umazane Misli was sung including a version from both the people next to me that I had bonded with in the queue!! (that made me go into proud dad mode and gave me tons of dopamine seeing them win as well). We even got Bojan rapping the chorus himself from the middle of the crowd!! Fittingly he was given a crown by a fan immediately after. My last piece of Bojan eye contact came during Novi Val where I have on video him looking for five seconds at my phone and tapping his mic to his chest which threw me off for a bit rushing to make him a heart back.

Honestly this whole show was peak to me already before leaving the venue. Yet as I’d been the whole day, I was a man with a mission and now the mission was to gift away the last stickers. This quest let me to talk to Hearts, the supporting act (these guys were chill and cool as well) together with accidentally be close by when Kiki came out with two free setlists where I then ran to get one of them. What I remember most vividly was everybody I showed the setlist too being annoyed at ASTP being replaced by Sta Bih Jah and fair.

We were a small group of people that met up afterwards just to chill. At this point I didn’t even know where the tour bus was, so I didn’t expect to see the guys at all. Yet at some point one pointed out Jan walking by and me high on everything that had already happened had no shame and shouted ‘great concert :D’ at him where his response was a ‘thank you :D’ back.

It turned out that not 20 minutes later I spied Bojan in the corner of my eye down the hill where we were standing and wanting to thank him for the tattoo I went down there. I gave him a tight hug shaking a bit from everything and we ‘are you’ed each other for what felt like 30 seconds to a minute. He told me that he recognized me from Helsinki in the yellow suit and at that point I was ready to melt then and there. Bojan was just so easy and lovely to talk to I can see why Jere and so many others fall for him.

Going back up to the rest of the folk we noticed Jan and Kris hanging out, but Kris had to go when I got there. Nace stayed and we got a long talk about his turtles which meant lots of new turtle lore. I loved feeling how great of a turtle dad he is from the way he was talking about them, and I felt connected to him in the way he too speaks a lot with his hands. After Nace Jan turned up to speak to us yet I had a bit of a harder time talking to him maybe because we both can be a bit distracted (me mostly by Jure standing in a colourful sweater and smoking by the tour bus). He agreed to us taking turns taking pictures and getting hugs which was nice.

On my way home from the venue I had to record all my experiences which turned into me babbling only semi sensical at a camera for almost 3 minutes letting my legs show me the way home. I was surprised to find I didn’t get lost. I was not at all surprised to see I was close to tears in the video footage.

Trinkets from Malmö including my sign and Bojan's handwriting, the setlist and more <3

Gothenburg I only arrived at 2 o’clock for the queue given the bus I’d been able to get from Malmö. It was a bit colder than yesterday and the queuing space way less cozy being a parking lot with the bus behind a caged fence and us just outside the fence compared to the nice little park with the tourbus out of sight in Malmö. I did manage to get a wave from a person I am pretty sure was Bojan (my stomach dropped like it did in Helsinki as well so I guess this is how I recognize Bojan from now on xD).

I began doodle a bit for people and getting back into the queue vibe when I noticed the time; I had to go throw my stuff at the hotel, so I had a place to sleep and because the venue had a bag ban. I managed to get lost and curse myself for not paying extra for a closer hotel when walking around the construction heavy central station. It turned out the hotel I’d booked was a boat which I find cool (and fitting given the whole titanic thing with Bojere).

Being lost I ended up going on a tiny side quest to ICA and buy the käärijä youghurt. It tasted pretty okay (I ate it in the queue later)! I prefer dreamy lemon tho (my breakfast in Helsinki). I arrived in the nick of time because just 20 minutes later the lines were formed. Now being forced to stand close to the fence we managed to catch glimpses of the fan running back and forth (especially Jure) but none of us said anything. One person I was with told me about Jure being cornered by a fan and forced to flee into the tourbus only to be followed and to be honest that story was the cherry on cake for me; the rest of the night I found myself being in overempathetic mode to the point of later masking and stepping away when being afraid of invading somebody’s space.

The concert was great especially when it comes to gifts given to the guys and the interactions between the guys as well. I especially loved Jance’s dance during Umazane Misli (that today were mostly Swedish versions) and Bojan gently caressing Kris’ cheek to get his attention. Jure also got some action going on with the two guitarists joining in on both sides of the drumset and Bojan vibing when Bluza was playing. I really enjoyed Kris and Jan in yellow especially Kris with blondes down his arms. Everybody got tons of sunglasses, Jan got a Teletubbies hairband, Kris a crown (he threw off real fast after just one song) and Jure got a few bracelets he gently took from the hands of the people in the crowd during Novi Val (that was the one time he seemed to get eye contact with us at all – I still felt very bad).

The setlist wasn’t too different from Malmö but with Gola replacing SSOL (nice full circle moment for me since Gola also opened my first ever JO show and the first on the whole tour aka Helsinki 1), Metulji replacing Padam, NVGOT being skipped, and Katrina moved up the setlist (maybe there were more changes but that is what I recall). I seemed to have tons of eye contact yet again with the Bojan even more than the other three days combined. And that was despite being a bit farther away this time almost at the edge by Kris yet pretty close to the barricade (third row) all things considered. Once again, he gently held my hand. This time it happened during the show where he let his hand jump over a (tiny) sea of other hands to rest his in mind and he winked at me. I had to happy stim after that which is oddly not something I do a lot at shows. When Mira next to me was invited to do her choreography for UM on stage I got another rush of dopamine (Idk why I get these proud father feelings for people I’ve only just meant; I was just so happy for her).

We were a group that hung out by the venue afterwards; it was bigger than Malmö but smaller than Helsinki 2. Still big enough that my overly sensitive empathy today felt bad for being there. At the same time, I wanted to cool my nerves down after being boosted with all that dopamine. As time went on I also grew stubborn and didn’t want to repeat Helsinki 2 where I had moved home too early.

When it looked like we’d only wave at the bus today, Nace came out to the cage to say hi. At first, he seemed uncomfortable especially with how he tensed up laughing. He loosened up seeing the amazing Joker Out inspired jackets some fans had made and almost gave them both a heart attack asking for pictures of the jackets.

After that he came out to us on the other side of the fence, and we talked about the silliest topics like what signature picture pose each member have (sadly I forgot to ask about Nace’s own go to pose). I gave him a very rushed doodle of himself doing Jan’s pose (I had cold hands and wouldn’t risk him going away) and he got so genuinely excited for it my heart melted a bit.

Jan also joined yet only after Nace had gone and just before me and some others were on our way home, so we sneaked back again to chat. He was wearing his scarf as a hat so of course I had to draw and gift him a doodle like that. He too seemed genuinely happy for it. We gushed about the new songs and spread the ‘come to Denmark’ propaganda (we were two danes amongst others). Today I felt it was easier to talk to Jan. He was very nice and polite and open. We went away after Jan had said goodnight so I don’t know if any other of the guys came out to say hello. I couldn’t argue with my sense of being the crazy fan stepping over an invisible line anymore (even after dad Nace had told me that – like yesterday – he would not chose to come out and say hi if he felt uncomfortable so I shouldn’t worry … right before then saying the most people-pleaser thing like ‘I felt bad for you waiting in the cold’ so I don’t know how to interpret the two messages I got there. I guess Nace is right tho; he himself knows best what he is comfortable with and after all we were all nice and respectful).

Trinkets including the tour shirt (finally got it after three attempts) and the k youghurt

Fun fact about the blue flower bracelet: It was thrown to me by a crew member after Hearts' set - I didn't know what he had but I nodded to him when he asked with his eyes if somebody wanted the thing and so I was pleasantly surprised to see how pretty a bracelet it is. I have no idea who it was originally meant for x'D

[projazznet]

Niels Henning Ørsted Pedersen – Jaywalkin’ (Album)

Jaywalkin’ is the first album solely credited to Danish bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen which was recorded in 1975 and released on the Danish SteepleChase label.

Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen – bass Philip Catherine – guitar Ole Kock Hansen – electric piano Billy Higgins – drums

[leviabeat]

From VolbeatSpirits.com

Written by Ryan J. Downey

Before he became the singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter in Volbeat, teenaged Michael Poulsen loved potent music (from heavy metal to rockabilly) and drinking socially. While building an English-style pub in his basement as an adult (which friends describe as “like something out of Peaky Blinders”), Michael discovered a deeper fondness for whiskey and the sense memories it can conjure.

“I was opening all these boxes and deciding what to put on the shelves and what to throw out,” he remembers. “I opened a bottle, took a sip, and my mind just flew away. Suddenly, I was six years old again, on the moped with my dad, going to pick corn for the birds he kept at home. I could taste and smell the grass, green apples, and pears on the trees. I looked at the bottle, and it was a very old Irish whiskey. After that, I wanted to know everything about what makes Irish whiskey so special.”

Plenty of rock stars and celebrities are content to simply slap a label on something. However, as demonstrated by Volbeat’s premium rums, that doesn’t cut it for Poulsen and his bandmates, including bassist and backing vocalist Kasper Boye Larsen and cofounding drummer Jon Larsen.

“At the regular corner supermarkets, they just have one brand, and it’s so terrible I wouldn’t even polish my bike with it,” explains Poulsen. “I couldn’t understand why getting good Irish whiskey around the world was so difficult. You must really know where to go. After making a lot of rum, I thought it would be a great challenge for someone to make an Irish whiskey with a Danish band.”

Enter the Great Northern Distillery, the largest independent distillery in Ireland.

Thanks to its proximity to the pure waters of the Cooley Mountains, brewing began in earnest in the historic Town of Dundalk in the late 1600s. The Great Northern Distillery operates on the former Great Northern Brewery site in Dundalk, Co. Louth; the original brewery on site was in 1896. The inaugural three-year-old Irish whiskey the Great Northern Distillery produced came of age in 2018.

The late Brian Watts, master distiller and general manager at GND worked with Michael on the original blends for what became Outlaw Gentlemen. (Sadly, Watts passed away in late 2022.) Distiller, blender, and Head of Commercial Operations Brian Mongan saw the final product through.

“We went for a walk of the distillery and saw how they were working, then sat down at a table and started talking,” Poulsen remembers. Over time, samples arrived in Denmark from Ireland. “Brian Mongan really did an amazing job helping me find the right casks, barrels, and everything for this.”

Mongan remembers the collaborative process fondly. “Some people might say, ‘Oh, that guy didn’t make the whiskey himself.’ But Michael was very active in the direction of where the finished product went. A Michelin-star chef collects the best ingredients and assembles them. They don’t necessarily farm the animals and grow the vegetables. With a blended whiskey, you’re essentially pulling levers with flavor, pulling one thing back to accentuate something else. That’s one of our core competencies as a company: we distill, we mature, and we also produce whiskey blends.”

Poulsen describes the process as not unlike songwriting. “I write songs that I want to listen to, using all the elements, inspirations, and tastes I want to put into the music. It can be very detailed or straightforward. It’s the same with whiskey, figuring out what you like the best. Do it with heart.”

Ultimately, it was important for the Outlaw Gentlemen blends to capture that same immersion Michael experienced when a single sip sent him back into a fond childhood memory. “It’s a very personal whiskey. I wanted to have that feeling of being on my dad’s moped again. Everyone can come on a journey drinking it beyond just getting drunk. Great Irish whiskey can do that for you. ‘Oh my God, I’m back at my grandmother’s house. I recognize this smell.’ It’s beautiful.”

Like Outlaw Gentlemen & Shady Ladies (the multi-platinum album from which it takes its name) and everything bearing their name, Volbeat crafted Outlaw Gentleman with passion, intention, and authenticity.

[n0rdic-kn1ght]

Introduction of myself! ✨🧚‍♀️⚔️🍃🌙🎶

Hello! My name is Lauren Phantom. I am 18 years old, and I am a singer, guitarist, and bassist. I write hard rock/heavy metal based off of medieval themes, or based off of my Nordic, and Danish Viking ancestors. I also love to draw, and write. I originally was on Instagram, but I decided to start posting here instead, because I feel the community is much better here, and Instagram has really gone to shit, honestly.

My main interests besides music, art, and writing are Pokémon, Castlevania, Berserk, Vinland Saga, Disenchantment, spirituality, witchcraft, history, reading, fashion, horror, makeup, cooking/baking, and more.

I hope to be able to share things with like-minded people, and I hope to possibly make some friends. I do have a YouTube channel, as well, and I plan on uploading there, as soon as I can.

[dustedmagazine]

Human Being Human — Disappearance (April)

Human Being Human is a Danish trio led by double bassist Torben Bjørnskov with Esben Tjalve on piano and Fredrik Bülow on drums. Disappearance is the group’s second release, coming just a year after Equals. Bjørnskov, who has appeared with luminaries such as Billy Cobham, offers up a set of eight mid-length and largely slow to mid-tempo original compositions that sound simultaneously well-rehearsed and spontaneous. From an initial slap of a cymbal, tinkle of piano, or burble of bass, the tunes develop organically, with occasional martial beats giving way to gentle reveries and picking up pace again or staccato chords and percussion marking the transitions. Also crucial to their sound, the members of the group know how to hang back and make full use of the spaces among the notes.

These musicians have clearly logged a lot of practice and stage time together and learned how to play off of each other. Bjørnskov’s bass alternately provides counterpoint to the piano and locks in with Bülow’s tasteful percussion as well as providing some nice solos, as on the title track and the ballad “Together Again.” Tjalve has a sensitive touch that keeps him from dominating the sound, as keyboards sometimes do in small groups, and his meditative approach well suits the compositions. The leader also brings in electronics at times, such as on “When You Find It, You Will Know,” that add a little diversity to the sound without distracting from the overall mood.

Over all, Human Being Human contribute to what has been an excellent year for piano trios (other, quite different, examples covered by Dusted recently include Vicente Archer’s Short Stories and Vertical Motion by Anthony Davis, Kyle Motl, and Kjell Nordeson). Disappearance offers a nice balance between gentle melodic passages and moments that demand the listener’s attention. The title, according to the liner notes, refers to anxiety about the fleeting nature of life, but these Danes do not sound melancholy.

Jim Marks

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Pride Colors

Pink for being attracted to another guy. Blue for being attracted to girls. Purple for all genders. It was the colors of the flag hung up in HQ. It wasn’t the vegetarian that put it up. The little Danish drummer boy didn’t put it up either. No one thought it was the one that looked like the orange cat. Most thought it was the gentle giant of a bassist. 

It was a regular-size flag, but surrounding it were pictures. Eventually, the entire wall would be filled from corner to corner. Some from the ’80s and some from the ’90s somehow made it up first. They were the random ones random people took. Pictures from those with cameras chasing celebrities. But those cameras were oblivious to what was hidden right in front of their lenses. Crew and bandmates took all the rest. 

“Hey, they’re another one!” Kirk tapped the photo with his finger. “ Rember when that one was taken?”

“Yea after that you had the best sex of your life.” Lars kissed him on the cheek. 

“I thought it was the other way.”  A finger jabbed him on the hip. “ Then there was that one.” Kirk pointed to another one. “You had been as ass the entire day.”

“But I’m your ass.”

“Yeah, but you can be really sweet too.” 

“I’m a sweet ass.”

Master post and Ao3

[allmusic]

AllMusic Staff Pick: Bremer/McCoy Utopia

There are some albums that beg to be listened to from beginning to end in one sitting; Brian Eno's Music for Airports, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, and Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians come to mind. The fourth album (and Luaka Bop debut) from Danish instrumentalists Bremer/McCoy, 2019's Utopia, is also one of those albums. Featuring the talents of bassist Jonathan Bremer and keyboardist/tape delay artist Morten McCoy, Utopia showcases the duo's instrumentally expansive, often hypnotic jazz-, dub-, and classical-influenced sound. - Matt Collar

[zombiefiilm]

— about me

— my names hazen and i’m 19

— she/her

— i’m trilingual (dutch, english and danish) and i’m from the netherlands

— i’m the singer and bassist in a band !!

— i love writing a lot and im co-editor of my uni’s paper :)

— my interests are criminal minds, car seat headrest, midwest emo bands, johnnie guilbert, jake webber, + more

— please feel free to dm me i want friends :D