#distorted influenced by television noise

[postmodernart]

Nicholaas Chiao, Red Putin Two Times, 2024, digital painting

[gqresearch24]

Ferrite Core Transformer: An In-Depth Analysis

(Source – Ocean Property)

Ferrite core transformers are critical components in modern electronics, known for their efficiency, high-frequency performance, and compact size. These transformers utilize ferrite cores, which are composed of ceramic compounds consisting of iron oxide mixed with other metallic elements. FCTs are widely used in various applications, including power supplies, signal processing, and telecommunications. This article delves into the structure, function, advantages, and applications of ferrite core transformers.

Structure of Ferrite Core Transformers

An FCT consists of two main parts: the core and the windings. The core is made of ferrite material, which is a type of magnetic ceramic. The windings are made of conductive wire, usually copper, which is wound around the core to create inductance.

Ferrite Core: Ferrite materials are chosen for their magnetic properties and high electrical resistivity. They are typically composed of iron oxide mixed with small amounts of other metals such as manganese, zinc, or nickel. The high resistivity of ferrite materials reduces eddy current losses, making them ideal for high-frequency applications.

Windings: The primary and secondary windings are coils of wire that are wound around the ferrite core. The primary winding is connected to the input voltage source, while the secondary winding is connected to the output load. The number of turns in each winding determines the voltage transformation ratio of the transformer.

The efficiency of this energy transfer is influenced by the properties of the ferrite material. Ferrite cores have high permeability, which means they can easily become magnetized, and high electrical resistance, which reduces energy losses due to eddy currents.

Advantages of Ferrite Core Transformers

FCTs offer several advantages over transformers with other types of cores, such as silicon steel cores. Some of the key advantages include:

1. High-Frequency Performance: Ferrite cores are highly effective at high frequencies, typically in the range of tens of kilohertz to several megahertz. This makes them ideal for applications such as switch-mode power supplies (SMPS), radio frequency (RF) transformers, and pulse transformers.

2. Low Energy Loss: The high electrical resistivity of ferrite materials significantly reduces eddy current losses, which are common in metallic cores. This leads to higher efficiency and less heat generation.

3. Compact Size: FCTs can be made smaller than their iron core counterparts while delivering the same power levels. This is particularly advantageous in applications where space is limited, such as in portable electronic devices.

4. Lightweight: Ferrite cores are lighter than metal cores, which contributes to the overall reduction in the weight of electronic devices. This is particularly beneficial in aerospace and mobile applications.

5. Cost-Effective: Ferrite materials are relatively inexpensive to manufacture, and the production processes for ferrite cores are well-established. This makes FCTs cost-effective for mass production.

Applications of Ferrite Core Transformers

The unique properties of FCTs make them suitable for a wide range of applications. Some of the most common applications include:

2. Telecommunications: In telecommunications, ferrite core transformers are used for impedance matching and isolation. They help in transmitting signals with minimal loss and distortion over long distances.

3. RF Transformers: FCTs are used in RF applications, such as in radio and television broadcasting, to match impedance and transfer signals between different stages of the equipment.

4. Inductive Components: Ferrite cores are used in inductors and chokes, which are essential components in filtering and tuning circuits. They help in suppressing noise and stabilizing signals.

5. Medical Equipment: In medical electronics, FCTs are used in devices such as MRI machines and other diagnostic equipment. Their high efficiency and low electromagnetic interference (EMI) are crucial in sensitive medical applications.

6. Automotive Industry: In the automotive sector, FCTs are used in electric vehicles (EVs) and hybrid electric vehicles (HEVs) for power conversion and battery charging systems.

Design Considerations

Designing a ferrite core transformer involves several critical considerations to ensure optimal performance. These include:

1. Core Selection: Choosing the right ferrite material based on the frequency range and power requirements is crucial. Different ferrite materials have different permeability and loss characteristics.

3. Cooling: Although FCTs generate less heat than metal core transformers, adequate cooling mechanisms should be in place to manage the heat produced during operation.

4. Shielding: To minimize electromagnetic interference (EMI), proper shielding techniques should be employed, especially in applications where the transformer is located near sensitive electronic components.

Challenges and Future Trends

Despite their many advantages, ferrite core transformers also face some challenges. These include:

1. Saturation: Ferrite materials can become saturated at high magnetic flux densities, which can limit the maximum power handling capacity of the transformer.

2. Temperature Sensitivity: Ferrite materials can exhibit changes in their magnetic properties with temperature variations, which can affect the performance of the transformer.

Future trends in FCTs are likely to focus on improving material properties to handle higher power levels and frequencies. Advances in nanotechnology and material science may lead to the development of new ferrite compounds with enhanced performance characteristics.

Conclusion

Ferrite core transformers play a vital role in modern electronics, offering high efficiency, excellent high-frequency performance, and compact size. Their applications span across various industries, including telecommunications, automotive, medical, and consumer electronics. As technology advances, the demand for efficient and reliable FCTs is expected to grow, driving further innovation and development in this field. By understanding the principles, advantages, and applications of ferrite core transformers, engineers and designers can better leverage these components to create more efficient and powerful electronic devices.

[nimcj-institute]

Characteristics of Mass Communication

Mass communication is a powerful and influential form of communication that involves disseminating information, ideas, and messages to a large and diverse audience through various mediums. It plays a crucial role in shaping public opinion, influencing societal norms, and facilitating the exchange of information on a massive scale.

What is Mass Communication?

Mass communication refers to the process of transmitting information to a large audience through various forms of media, such as newspapers, magazines, television, radio, internet, and social media. It involves the dissemination of messages from a single source to multiple receivers simultaneously.

Key elements of mass communication include:

Sender: The entity or organization that creates and sends the message.

Message: The content or information being transmitted to the audience.

Channel: The medium through which the message is transmitted, such as television, radio, print, or digital platforms.

Receiver: The individuals or groups who receive and interpret the message.

Feedback: The response or reaction of the audience to the message, which can be immediate or delayed.

Noise: Any interference or distortion that may affect the transmission or reception of the message.

Professionals in the field of mass communication include journalists, broadcasters, public relations specialists, advertising executives, media planners, and social media managers. They work in various industries, including journalism, advertising, public relations, broadcasting, and digital media, to create, distribute, and analyze media content.

8 Characteristics of Mass Communication

1. Diverse and Large Audience

One of the defining characteristics of mass communication is its ability to reach a vast and heterogeneous audience simultaneously. The audience is typically dispersed geographically and consists of individuals from various backgrounds, demographics, and interests. This diverse audience is often anonymous and unknown to the communicator.

2. Use of Mediated Channels

Mass communication relies on mediated channels or mass media to transmit messages. These channels include traditional media such as television, radio, newspapers, and magazines, as well as modern digital platforms like the internet, social media, and mobile applications. The use of these mediated channels allows for the widespread dissemination of information and messages.

Read More: Characteristics of Mass Communication

[soundbargeek]

How close should soundbar be to to TV : Optimize Your Home Theater

Sound quality is at the heart of any home entertainment experience. Whether you're watching your number one film, game, or playing computer games, vivid sound is fundamental for a total review. Tragically, most current televisions come with inbuilt speakers that frequently miss the mark in conveying the sound quality you want. To bridge this audio gap and elevate your home theater experience, soundbars have become indispensable. In this article, we delve into a critical aspect of optimizing your soundbar setup: how close should a soundbar be to TV? The distance between your TV and soundbar is a crucial factor that significantly influences your audio experience. Let's explore the optimal placement and other key considerations to ensure you get the best sound from your soundbar.

Understanding the Ideal Distance Between TV and Soundbar

Defining the Optimal Distance To achieve the best sound quality, it's fundamental to figure out the suggested distance between your television and soundbar. In a perfect world, the soundbar ought to be situated roughly 4 to 6 inches (10–15 cm) from the television. This distance is not arbitrary but serves to ensure that the sound and visuals remain synchronized, delivering an enhanced viewing experience. How close should soundbar be to TV is a question for many home theater enthusiasts ponder, and we're here to shed light on this critical aspect of optimizing your audio setup. Benefits of Maintaining the Ideal Distance Maintaining this ideal distance, often asked as how close should soundbar be to TV, offers several benefits. Firstly, it creates a sonic synergy that complements your visuals, making every scene more engaging. It also allows easy access to the soundbar's controls and connectivity options. Furthermore, the recommended distance helps in preventing interference and noise, ensuring pristine audio quality. Impact of Distance on Sound Quality The distance between your TV and soundbar significantly affects your audio quality. When placed too far apart, the sound can become disjointed from the visuals, leading to an unsatisfactory viewing experience. Conversely, positioning them too closely can lead to distortion and reduced clarity. Maintaining the optimal distance ensures your sound and visuals are perfectly aligned answering the common question, how close should a soundbar be to TV.

Placement Options for Soundbars

Soundbar Placement with TV on a Table, Cabinet, or Shelf The positioning of your soundbar largely depends on where your TV is situated. If your TV rests on a table, cabinet, or shelf, placing the soundbar just below the center of the TV is the ideal placement. This ensures that the sound originates from the same direction you're facing, enhancing the overall experience. To prevent the soundbar from obstructing your view of the TV, consider the vertical space between the TV's bottom and the stand. Ensure the soundbar's height aligns with this space to maintain an unobstructed view. Soundbar Placement with a Wall-Mounted TV At the point when your television is wall-mounted, you have two choices: mounting the soundbar above or beneath the television. Mounting it below the TV is generally preferable because it directs sound straight to the listener, creating a more immersive experience. Many soundbars come with wall-mounting templates and hardware, making the installation process straightforward. This allows you to align your soundbar with the TV for an optimal audio-visual experience. Special Considerations for Soundbars with Unique Features Soundbars equipped with advanced features like DTS Virtual:X, DTS:X, and Dolby Atmos require special consideration. These features create an overhead surround sound effect, and placing such soundbars inside cabinets or shelves can obstruct the dispersion of sound. For these soundbars, positioning them forward within the cabinet shelf is recommended for optimal sound projection. Understanding the ideal distance, placement options, and specific considerations for soundbars will help you create an audio-visual setup that transforms your home entertainment experience. In the next section, we'll explore how the distance between the soundbar and sidewalls, viewer distance, and room size can further impact your sound quality and help you determine the best setup for your how close should a soundbar be to your TV query.

Factors Affecting Sound Quality

The Alignment of the Soundbar with the TV Alignment plays a pivotal role in enhancing your audio-visual experience. When your soundbar is perfectly aligned with your TV, the sound and visuals seamlessly synchronize, pulling you deeper into the content. Whether you're gaming, watching motion pictures, or getting a charge out of music, this arrangement guarantees you're completely drenched in the experience. Distance Between the Soundbar and Sidewalls As well as adjusting your soundbar with the television, the distance between the soundbar and the sidewalls likewise impacts your sound quality. It's essential to maintain a minimum distance between the soundbar and any sidewall to minimize noise and interference. This spacing facilitates an even dispersion of sound, preventing unwanted wave interference and improving the overall audio quality. Distance Between You and the Entire Unit The viewer's distance from the TV-soundbar setup is another critical consideration. For an ideal sound encounter, the television and soundbar ought to be situated somewhere around 10–23 feet (3–7 meters) away from you. This distance might differ depending on the size of your room, yet it's a significant rule. A larger room may warrant a greater viewing distance, ensuring you can fully appreciate the soundbar's capabilities. Impact of Room Size on Sound Quality The size and acoustics of your room also impact sound quality. Larger rooms may require the viewer to be seated farther from the TV-soundbar setup to experience the best sound. More modest rooms might consider a more private survey insight; however, the acoustics of the room actually play a critical role in determining your sound quality so make sure to take them into account while deciding how close your soundbar should be to your TV. In the following segment, we'll investigate various kinds of soundbars, how to pick the right soundbar for your television arrangement, and the meaning of network choices.

Types of Soundbars and Their Suitability

An Overview of Different Types of Soundbars Soundbars come in various types, each catering to specific needs. Some are designed for compact setups, while others offer more advanced features. Understanding these types can help you choose the right soundbar for your TV setup. - Single Soundbars: Basic models that offer enhanced audio over inbuilt TV speakers - Multi-Channel Soundbars: Feature additional speakers for improved surround sound. - Soundbars with Subwoofers: Include a separate subwoofer for enhanced bass. - Soundbars with Advanced Audio Features: Offer technologies like DTS Virtual:X, DTS:X, and Dolby Atmos for a more immersive experience. Matching Soundbars with the TV Setup Selecting the right soundbar involves considering your TV and room characteristics. For instance, assuming you have a wall-mounted television, you really want to pick a soundbar that supplements this arrangement. The dimensions of your TV also impact the soundbar's suitability. A well-matched soundbar ensures that the sound and visuals align optimally. The Significance of Connectivity Options Choosing a soundbar with compatible connection options is essential. The right connection method ensures that you can fully harness the soundbar's capabilities. HDMI links are suggested for top-notch sound, as they convey a larger amount of information than standard sound links. Some soundbars support optical cables, while others use 3.5mm jacks. Selecting the appropriate connectivity option based on your TV's capabilities is crucial for an impeccable audio experience. In the following area, we'll direct you through the establishment cycle and give you significant genius tips for upgrading your soundbar arrangement.

Soundbar Installation and Pro Tips

Step-by-Step Guide for Setting Up a Soundbar Correctly Proper soundbar installation is essential for achieving the best audio quality. The following steps will help you set up your soundbar correctly: - Unpack the soundbar and its accessories. - Identify the ideal placement for your soundbar, whether above, below, or in front of your TV. - Secure the soundbar in place, following the manufacturer's instructions. - Connect the soundbar to your TV using the appropriate cables. - Power on the soundbar and your TV. - Access the soundbar's settings to fine-tune your audio preferences. - Test your setup with various content to ensure optimal sound quality. Solutions for Dealing with Potential Obstructions Obstructions, such as decorative items or objects in front of the TV, can significantly impact your sound quality. To mitigate this issue, consider clearing the path between the soundbar and your listening area. Maintaining a clear line of sight between the soundbar and the viewer ensures that audio travels unobstructed, delivering the best experience. Checking Compatibility with TV and Connection Options Before finalizing your soundbar setup, verify compatibility with your TV and choose the right connection options. It's essential to confirm that your soundbar is compatible with your TV and that the selected cables or connections match the capabilities of both devices. Incompatible choices can lead to a frustrating and subpar audio experience. Now, with your soundbar set up optimally and configured correctly, you're ready to enjoy an elevated home entertainment experience. In the concluding section, we'll reiterate the importance of soundbar placement, encourage experimentation, and summarize the key takeaways.

Conclusion

Proper soundbar placement is the key to unlocking the full potential of your home entertainment system. The ideal distance between your TV and soundbar, along with thoughtful alignment and viewer placement, ensures a truly immersive experience. We've explored the critical factors that impact sound quality and provided guidance on choosing the right soundbar for your setup. While accomplishing the ideal arrangement might take a little trial and error and tweaking, the outcomes are certainly worth the work. Whether you're watching films, messing around, or partaking in your number one music, immaculate sound quality upgrades each part of your home diversion. In conclusion, remember that soundbars are more than just accessories; they're your gateway to a captivating audio experience. By observing the rules and tips illustrated in this article, you can establish a home theater climate that submerges you in the realm of sound, where everything comes to life. Read more: Why is my soundbar remote not working?

FAQs

How far should my sound bar be from my TV?The ideal distance between your soundbar and TV is around 4 to 6 inches (10–15Ny cm). This placement ensures the best sound experience and synchronization with your TV. Where is the best place to put a soundbar on a TV?The best area to put your soundbar is right underneath the focal point of your television, guaranteeing the sound comes from where you're confronting. In the event that you have a wall-mounted television, mounting the soundbar under the television is suggested for ideal sound projection. Where should a soundbar be positioned?In the event that your television is on a table or bureau, position the soundbar just beneath it. On account of a wall-mounted television, mounting the soundbar under the television is great. The key is to keep it at ear level for the best sound insight. How much space do you need under a TV for a soundbar?While setting the soundbar underneath your television, ensure there's adequate room for it without blocking the television's screen. Hold back nothing but 4 inches (10 cm) of space between the lower part of the television and the soundbar for clear sound projection. Read the full article

[jeongyunhoed]

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, implied smut

A/N: So, because of the flow of the story so far, things might end in less than 10 chapters. Sorry it took me a while to finish this. I was in a bit of a rut but as of a few weeks ago, I’ve come back from it but I’m still just swamped with work so yeah. 

Masterlist

Chapter 5

“Do we knock? Or do we let ourselves in?” San muttered as they approached the door. 

Wooyoung touched the doorknob. He could hear a woman giggling and a man grunting, rushing to unlock the door and kicking it closed. He turned to the rest of them and nodded. “He’s in here,” He said. Upon seeing the sliver of a shadow being cast by the nearby trees onto the door, he took a deep breath, stepping into the sliver. He had transformed into the shadow itself, and they watched him open the door, hearing some metal parts clinking and breaking inside. 

“Wow,” San looked impressed as Wooyoung turned back to normal. Yunho and Mirae also looked impressed.  

“You’re getting the hang of your powers already, aren’t you?” Mirae asked quietly. 

“Sort of. In a way I know how you feel now,” Wooyoung offered a small smile and they quietly stepped inside, Mirae leading the way. 

Hardwood floors and walls bathed the home of Yang Tan as they crept down the front hall, seeing framed certificates of recognition of the outlet he owned. One framed photo stood out from the rest. It was a family photo of the CEO himself and his wife, with one son who looked unsuspecting. Wooyoung removed the sling of his katanas from his back, both hands now at the handles. 

“Do you think his son knows about what his father’s doing?” San whispered. 

“He might, he might not, there’s nothing much he can do about it really,” Mirae replied. 

No one seemed to be around the living room, and Wooyoung didn’t sense any presence at the mini patio close to the kitchen. There was a muffled sound coming from the second floor, making them look up. Mirae gestured to go up and they crept up the stairs, San’s hand poised on his harpoon while Yunho had a hand on the handle of one of his sai. The closer they were, the muffled noises grew louder. 

They approached the door where the noises were coming from, what looked like the master bedroom. They heard a squeaking as they observed the noises coming from the room. “It sounds like someone moaning-oh,” San looked shocked, making the rest of them gape. 

The moans were growing louder mixed in between squeaking and San tried to turn around to leave, only for Yunho to pull him back. “I’ve heard our old boss fuck someone from another room before, but I didn’t expect to relive that experience now,” Wooyoung pursed his lips, eyes flitting around as if avoiding looking at the door. 

“Do you think we should wait for another time?” San whispered. 

“We need to move quickly, we can’t just leave because the guy we’re after is busy screwing someone in his bedroom,” Mirae shook her head, feeling just as uncomfortable. 

“...But they’d be naked in there!” San whispered, covering his ears. “I think we can wait until they’re done.”

Mirae shook her head again, stopping her brother from trying to leave this time as she led the way, bursting in the room and making them skid to a halt at what they were seeing. Yang Tan and a woman they knew wasn’t his wife, were in a very compromising position, both of them scrambling to cover themselves up in a second, the woman screaming in surprise. “Yang Tan, we’ve got some questions to ask you,” She pressed on. 

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Tan bellowed. 

“Who we are isn’t important, it’s what you know that is,” Mirae said. “Min Junghwa, you were in the list of people she was going to sue-” 

“You come here to my home with that drivel-” Tan spat. 

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate you screwing that in the bedroom you share with her either,” Yunho pointed out. “Tell us what you know about Min Junghwa, or Madame Seo, or both of those women as I’m sure you are fully aware.” 

“What makes you think I’d have an inkling of what those women were about?” 

“You own a news outlet, surely you’d have known firsthand what’s happening,” San chimed in. “Protection in the form of exposing other scandals to distract the public, we know your MO.” 

Tan stared at the four of them, his expression suddenly relaxing. “And I will tell you because…?” 

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll have to do it the other way around, and trust me, you won’t like what you’re going to see,” Mirae stared at him, her eyes turning black. 

Wooyoung stared at him. Flashes of the CEO at a club, at a house, taking a line of the gold powder. The more he stared at Yang Tan, the more he began to see flashes of his memories. They were in a room, he was feeling up a woman, until it happened, the horrific act itself. He looked away, not wanting to see anymore. “He did it. He really made a pass at that actress, and many others probably.” 

Tan looked at him in horror. “H-how did you see that?” He sputtered. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone’s guilty,” Mirae said, her eyes still black, 

“Tell me what you want? Do you want money? I have money,” Tan pleaded as the four of them approached the bed. “I-I know people that could make your life-your lives very comfortable, protection from the law, is that it? I-I can give you that too!” 

“We don’t want and need those, we just want to know what you know, especially about Madame Seo,” Mirae leaned forward, taking out the spray bottle from her belt and spritzing his face once. “You better hit the road, this guy’s no good. He’s had innocent people killed, you know, he might do the same to you,” She added, glancing at the woman he was with, who was also unable to speak from fright. 

The woman crawled out of the bed, covering herself up with the sheet. San threw her clothes in her face. “Wouldn’t want people to see a naked woman running down the street tonight, would you?” He smirked, watching her stumble on her way out, getting dressed haphazardly. 

Just like the CEO, Tan’s face had gone blank with his eyes glazed over. “Did you think Madame Seo would willingly meet with you? I am protected,” He said blankly. “Principium est, et finis est initium, principium est, et finis est initium.” 

Mirae’s eyes changed back and she turned to the boys. “An entertainment agency CEO, a media outlet, those three other guys are probably involved in the industry too,” She got back up. “If Madame Seo has control of the outlet, of the entertainment agency, and the fact that those idols in that company are not human, she wants to do something,” She deduced. 

“And with Yeosang’s influence and money, she’s practically untouchable,” Yunho said. 

“But we need to look at the three others,” San chimed in. “If they have industry ties, then we can say what all of us are probably thinking.” 

“She’s using the entertainment industry,” All of them began to say, exchanging looks in surprise that they were all thinking the same thing. 

“Who are we visiting next?” Yunho turned to Mirae, who took out the list again. 

“Song Youngdo, he’s a producer for the big three tv stations,” Mirae read out. “She really is using the entertainment industry as pawns, isn’t she?” 

“An agency CEO, a media outlet, a producer,” San muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the next two guys are higher up.” 

“What could be higher than the CEO?” 

“The investors, and Yeosang is an investor,” San shrugged. “Those people on the board of directors.” 

“How can we track that guy down first?” Wooyoung asked, and Mirae showed him the list. He looked at the names. Yang Tan, Noh Hodong, Song Youngdo, Yoo Jongseob, and Cho Hajoon. Images began to flash in his mind again as he read the names. “They’re-I think they’re at a club.” 

Mirae, San, and Yunho all turned to him. “A club?” 

Wooyoung tried to piece together the flashes of what he was seeing all of a sudden. “I have a feeling that those two, the last two names, are at a club, music, drinking, drugs, all of those things.” 

“Let’s not hope we catch them in an orgy then,” San cringed, looking back at the dazed form of Youngdo before knocking him out with the handle of his harpoon. “But which club exactly? There’s so many.” 

Wooyoung looked back at the list again, trying to concentrate some more in the hopes of sensing more information just from the names. He closed his eyes as flashes of scenes were coming to him. “Leopard print. Leopard print rooms,” He mumbled, the three of them stopping to listen to him. “Elevators, suits,” 

“A lot of corporate people,” Mirae said quietly, paying attention to him. 

“Building, middle of the city,” Wooyoung opened his eyes. “That place is a building in the middle of the city.” 

“It could be any building, those two guys are in that building then?” San questioned. 

“Seems like it, yeah. They’re there partying or something.” 

The television behind them suddenly turned itself on, making them turn around. It showed a signal interruption. The four of them stared at the screen, seeing a face form from behind until it turned black. A figure wearing a Max Headroom mask and a suit appeared. “So we finally meet at last, soul-taker,” said the figure whose voice was gravelly and distorted. 

“Soul-taker?” Wooyoung mouthed to them. San quietly pointed to Mirae and he nodded. 

Mirae stayed quiet. “I’ve anticipated all your moves. I’ve been watching you every step of the way, but no matter how much you find out, it’s too late for you to do anything more. I have eyes and ears, you know. Lee Miran and Go Changseok knew what you were capable of when you underwent that training program. What they, or your mutant comrades don’t know is, the extent of power you wield. Sooner or later, you will see how important it is to keep the status quo in order to keep the peace. I mean it, soul-taker. The more you move, the more we strike, and believe me, it will be painful,” and the screen turned black, the television turning itself off. 

Wooyoung was still looking at the screen. “They’re after Mirae. They’ll come after her,” he said, making them stare at her. 

“Fine, let them come after me,” Mirae said plainly. 

~ 

They teleported out of the house and close to the car. Mirae kept thinking of what she was called by that figure. Yunho took her hand, as if letting her know that he heard her as they approached their vehicle. They stopped in their tracks when they heard a swooping from behind. 

“Soul-taker,” They heard a growling followed by a little giggle. 

They turned around, Mirae recognizing who the voices belonged to and the clothes they were wearing. It was that same idol group that tried to kill her in the agency. “Get the soul-taker, make it quick,” the boy in the red tracksuit growled as the seven of them surrounded them by moving around in circles. 

Wooyoung brandished his katanas, Mirae extended her staff, San loaded his harpoon, and Yunho brought out his sai, the four of them ready to attack. The boy in blue and the boy in yellow sped past them, both their hands transforming into claws and eyes glowing red as they swooped in, hovering over Mirae while the rest of the boys attacked the three males. 

Mirae tried to fend the two off, spinning her staff in the ground to emit a shock. She dodged every strike made towards her until the boy in blue quickly struck her neck with one of his talons. She felt lightheaded, her vision turning black as she dropped to the ground, the two boys picking her up. 

“Mirae!!!” Yunho yelled, fighting the rest off while watching the two boys take her unconscious figure away into a portal, the rest of the boys following close behind until the boy in red clapped his claws together emitting a sound wave that sent them flying towards the nearby brick wall, the three of them sliding to the ground. The portal had closed. 

San rushed back up to his feet, racing to the spot where the portal was. Yunho followed close behind. His heart was pounding. “Mirae!” San called out, looking all around him. She was gone. 

“What was that? Who were those guys?” Wooyoung had caught up to them. 

San was trying not to cry as he kept looking around in frustration. Yunho looked like he was about to break down as well. “I’m guessing those were the idols she fought off at Kang Entertainment,” He replied, blinking back the tears that were welling in his eyes. 

“What do we do now?” Yunho spoke. “We have to come up with a plan or else I’m going to kill someone, and it’s likely going to be Yeosang.”

“If you kill someone, you’re giving them what they want, you’re giving this Madame Seo character what she wants,” Wooyoung said knowingly. “They took Mirae before we could get to the other three guys. She’s trying to stall.” 

“What’s she rushing for? Does she have something to do tonight?” San was puzzled. “That guy on the tv just said the more we make a move, the more they will do something. They know we’re onto them, they’re threatened.” 

“They’re taking Mirae hostage,” Yunho closed his eyes, trying to see if he could hear her thoughts. There was nothing. “What are they planning to make her do?” 

“I think we’re running out of time now,” Wooyoung opened the car doors and got in the driver’s seat, making the two of them follow suit. “If they’ve got Mirae, if my senses are right, this is what Ino is afraid of.”

“But where are we going?” San slid in the backseat while Yunho got in the passenger seat. 

“Back to the house, we’ve seen enough from them, and we’ve had a hell of a night,” Wooyoung started the car and stepped on the gas. 

~ 

Ino froze in his place, staring into space with a horrified expression. “Yunho, San, and Wooyoung, they will be returning shortly,” He said, making everyone in the lab abruptly stop their brief training session. 

Junhong sensed what the older male meant. “What about Mirae?” 

Ino stared at him, and then at the other four, whose expressions fell. “You mean she’s dead?” Hongjoong asked. “You mean, Mirae’s dead? Really dead? She can’t die, can she?” 

Ino shook his head. The doors of the lab opened, with Yunho, San, and Wooyoung appearing. “They took her, those idols in that Kang Entertainment agency, and before that-” San’s free hand had curled into a fist. “Before that we confirmed Yang Tan’s got something to do with it, but there’s more to what we found and it’s going to take a while to get everyone up to speed.” 

“Firstly, they called Mirae soul-taker,” Wooyoung added. “Do they call her that because they know what we all used to do?” 

Ino and Junhong shook their heads. San remained quiet. “One of Mirae’s abilities, as I’m sure you remember, manifested during the Utopian cult ordeal,” Ino began to explain. “When her eyes turn black, she can take a person’s soul, trap it into something. She usually did it with her playing cards before making those cards explode.” 

“Does Madame Seo want that power of hers then? Is that why those guys took her?” Yunho asked. “They want her to do that?” 

Ino shook his head again. “Yes and no, Yunho,” He said. “You of all people should know, she’s an omega-level mutant, those kinds of mutants are rare, as rare as immortals like you, what you’ve seen so far is nowhere close to the damage she can do when pushed to the extreme.”

“They want her to use her powers, on everyone,” San figured it out. “Through the entertainment industry, probably. All those guys that harassed that actress, and those other actors and actresses, they were all part of the industry. Madame Seo is using the industry to bend people to her own will.” 

“It would make sense that she would, people watch television, stream movies, videos,” Junhong chimed in. “Those idols have a wide reach, as I’ve learned,” He turned on the monitor, showing the group’s music video. “Millions of views, millions of followers not just here but everywhere.” 

“You think there might be something in their songs? A melody or the lyrics, perhaps?” Ino mused. 

“I give you my blood blood blood blood, I give you my blood,” the group was singing. 

“Mirae, she didn’t say much about the meeting, but when she met them, I heard that they’re hungry for blood, they tried to suck the blood out of her when she first met them in the CEO’s office,” Yunho recalled. 

“They were the ones that killed those actors and actresses then!” Wooyoung gaped. “They’re- they’re her children or something like that.” 

“Close,” Ino realized where they were going. A large book had materialized in front of him, its pages yellowed and slightly rough around the edges. The pages were flipping in front of him until it stopped. They were staring at him in amazement. “Demons” 

“Demons?” San questioned. 

“Demons,” Ino read. “Demonic creatures that mainly live on the blood of humans, of animals and they are birthed by one of the leaders of hell, Ose, who would manifest in the world above in the form of a leopard.” 

“Madame Seo worships that one then? Is that what we’re dealing with?” Seonghwa asked. 

“It could be, it’s making even more sense now. The leopard prints Wooyoung had seen, the leopard print interiors of Montague, the leopard print...everything that’s related to her,” San explained. 

“With Yeosang and Mirae, she would have more power,” Yunho deduced, the feeling of helplessness seeping in. “We need to act and we need to act now, I don’t care if they strike, they took Mirae, that’s enough of a reason for us to move.” 

“How? How are we going to do that? How are we going to do that without knowing what exactly they plan to do to her?” San shot at him. “I want Mirae back just as much as you do, but we can’t go there without knowing what we’re doing and what we’re dealing with.” 

“We already know what we’re dealing with!” Yunho’s voice was raised. 

“You don’t know how to stop them! You think our weapons are enough?!” San shouted back. “Everything was fine until you started lashing out at her over Yeosang!” 

Mingi and Jongho held Yunho back, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung held San back. Ino and Junhong kept them apart as well. “It’s not the time to argue, both of you,” Ino advised. “We all want her back, you going on a rampage is what they’d want, if you do that, they’ll find a way to end her permanently.” 

“All of you did the same thing before coming here, were the same kind of people before you all met us,” Junhong added. “Think of using that to your advantage when we try to get her back. Mirae would do that, whether she knows it or not.” 

Tears were welling in Yunho’s eyes out of frustration, he sat down on the nearby chair and covered his face. “We need to do something, anything, I lost her once, I don’t want to lose her again,” His voice was muffled. 

“How do we take them on?” Jongho managed to say. 

“We go to that place Wooyoung saw. A building in the middle of the city, if we find Mirae there, good. If we find the three other guys we’re hoping to look for, that’s good too,” San suggested. “It’s all we can do, and we can hope we’re not too late when we do it.” 

~ 

The seven boys had placed Mirae’s body in front of a woman whose face was obscured by a black shawl. They had transformed back to normal, but their clothes had some stains from the dirt and dust. “We found her,” The boy in red said. 

“Good boys, all of you, I’ll make sure your comeback will be highly successful, at least your human forms will find success,” The woman said with a simper. 

“I see nothing special about her, except for her blood of course, running through her veins,” The boy in green purred, looking at Mirae’s wrists. 

“Ah, ah, don’t touch her, my children,” The woman stopped him. “She is important, she is not to be harmed. Her blood is not for the taking, you have to feed on others.” 

“We drained the last manager we had dry,” The boy in purple pointed out. “We’re getting hungry again.” 

“I know, and I am fully aware of that, but don’t you worry your pretty faces,” The woman said. “You’ll be able to drink until you lose your will to do so in time. Tonight is the night of reckoning, and I need you all to be on your best behavior, we’ll be meeting people who can make sure you carry out what you’re going to do.” 

“Will this please our master?” The boy in orange asked. 

“Yes, immensely,” The woman replied. She heard the elevator door open and in came a man dressed in black and his hair slicked back and wearing a tag labeled “Montague.” He ran up to her. “Yes?” 

“Everyone is assembling. What time does the ritual start?” He asked. 

“Midnight tonight, we need to be prepared, especially these boys for what we are about to do. Everything we’ve worked for in the last 20 years is leading up to this,” She replied. “Summon Song Youngdo, he needs to be briefed on the upcoming tv special these boys have.” 

The employee bowed before leaving the room again. “What do we do with her? She can only stay unconscious for so long,” The boy in blue kicked Mirae’s leg slightly. 

The woman bent down to take a closer look at Mirae. “She will be sent to someone whose influence will be very useful and then she’ll be hooked up to the machine we’ve been developing.” 

The elevator doors opened again. Yeosang stepped out, walking up to the woman. “You sent for me?” He asked. 

“Ah, Mr. Kang, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, I brought you something you might like,” the woman stood aside. 

Yeosang stared at Mirae’s unconscious body. “You-you brought her?” He mumbled. 

“Of course. She is what you wanted, didn’t you? I told you I’d give you what you want,” The woman replied, lifting her shawl to place a very wet kiss on his lips, some of her red lipstick transferring on him. 

Yeosang froze as he tried to wrap his head around the situation he was in. He glanced at the seven boys. “Was she hurt?” He asked coldly. 

“Not really, just a little prick on the neck, I had already warned these boys not to drink the life out of her, so you shouldn’t worry about it either,” The woman smiled at him. “She’d make a good pet for you, don’t you think? Am I worthy of you now?” She tilted her head at him before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“You would go to this extent to bring her to me?” Yeosang said quietly. 

“Yes I would, I would do anything for you.”

[passionate-reply]

Alright, that’s enough talking about albums people have heard of. It’s time for Great Albums to start getting obscure! Find out why Thomas Leer’s The Scale of Ten is the best industrial-sophistipop fusion album you’ve probably never heard of. Transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! So far in this series, I’ve talked about a lot of widely beloved and classic electronic albums. But I’ve always intended for Great Albums to encompass any and all albums that I, personally, consider “great.” Today, I’m going to be discussing a pretty obscure album and artist for the first time: this is Thomas Leer’s The Scale of Ten.

Thomas Leer got his start as an industrial musician--and about as close to the source as you get, releasing his first full-length LP on Throbbing Gristle’s private label, Industrial Records, in 1979. That album was The Bridge, a collaboration with Robert Rental, and its minimal, distorted drones sound like a lot of other 70s industrial.

Music: “Connotations”

Leer’s early work was underground, but by the time of The Scale of Ten, he had shifted directions, and was actually angling for mainstream pop success.

Music: “Heartbeat”

There are lots of artists who have attempted to make the leap from underground darling to synth-pop star, and Leer was probably one of the least successful at doing that. “Heartbeat” is dying to be a hit single, and it gets priority billing as the opening track of the second side. It’s this awkward breed of “industrial pop,” where a harsh, mechanical screech meets a basic love lyric. I’m sure it’s somewhat unintentional how strident the backing track for this song is, but while it makes the song impossible to parse as pop, I actually enjoy it and think it gives the track a lot of character. You often hear people say, “there’s no such thing as objectively bad music...EXCEPT for music that doesn’t achieve what is intended by the artist.” I have to disagree with that, because I think a track like “Heartbeat,” that fails at being a pop song in a unique and interesting way, is pretty enjoyable to listen to.

Part of the reason why tracks like “Heartbeat” do sound a bit more pop than The Bridge is actually technology. The Fairlight CMI, featured in full force on The Scale of Ten, brought synth and sampling to a wider audience with its relative accessibility, and its softer, more “breathy” sound is now strongly associated with the rash of very commercial synth-pop that came to dominate the charts in the mid and late 80s. Leer got his hands on this when it was new, before a lot of these trends had settled in, and he used this technology in uncanny and unprecedented ways.

Music: “Lust For Loneliness”

But not everything you hear on this album is so strongly dominated by electronics. The pseudo-title track “Number One,” a veritable “ear worm” if I’ve ever heard one, features an abundance of traditional instruments like horns and strings. They were actually arranged by Anne Dudley, famous for her work with the Art of Noise and other production work alongside Trevor Horn. Against this lush, orchestral backdrop, Leer is far from a suave crooner--instead, his thin, nasal vocals seem woefully inadequate to express what he’s getting at. But, as with “Heartbeat,” that incompetence makes this track interesting. I think Leer’s cracking, withered voice comes across as everymannish, and perhaps vulnerable, in contrast to these very slick sophisti-pop instrumentals.

Music: “Number One”

While the frailty of Leer’s voice in “Number One” seems to bring an unintended pathos to it, The Scale of Ten is not without more deliberately ironic compositions. “International,” not to be confused with the similarly-named B-side of Leer’s first single, “Private Plane,” delivers us a peaceful, dreamy soundscape. But taking a closer listen to some of its lyrics reveals that that ultra-polished sound conceals a darker secret: the narrator of this song appears to be smuggling drugs.

Music: “International”

The album title The Scale of Ten appears to be a reference to the lyrics of “Number One.” Given that that track is single bait, it seems plausible that the album was named after its secondary lyric chiefly for marketing purposes--though the fact that it also has exactly ten tracks is somewhat satisfying.

I was initially pretty unimpressed with the cover design. Leer is a good-looking guy and all, but this weird close-up of him staring at us seems like an odd choice. It’s kind of grown on me, though, in a “kitsch chic” kind of way. It wasn’t until I owned this album on vinyl that I realized there’s a bit of an old-fashioned television display effect overlaid onto this image, which does add some subtle, additional visual interest, and makes it feel like some sort of candid surveillance footage or something.

For all of its faults, The Scale of Ten hardly put an end to Thomas Leer’s pop ambitions, and his greatest success in this style was yet to come. Several years later, he would form a bona fide synth-pop duo, with Propaganda frontman Claudia Bruecken. As “Act,” the two of them achieved some minor success--more acclaim than Leer had as a solo artist, anyway.

Music: “Snobbery & Decay”

Following the Act era, Leer would retire from making music for the next several decades. In the past few years, however, he’s returned to music, releasing some of his archival tapes from the 70s and 80s for the first time, as well as putting together some new compositions, playing with electronics, lounge music, and traditional pop influences.

My favourite track on The Scale of Ten, and one of my very favourite songs of all time, is its stunning opener, “Searcher.” Moreso than anything else on this album, “Searcher” really delivers on the premise of “industrial pop,” combining that soft, fluttering Fairlight-heavy sound with dejected vocals narrating a trip through an urban blight-scape. There’s even a fake-out ending! “Searcher” is just unlike anything else, on this album, or otherwise--it’s like a window into an alternate world, a completely different approach to the core ideas of industrial that has almost nothing in common with the rhythm-heavy “electronic body music” of the Continent. That’s all I have for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Searcher”

[futuresandpasts]

Futures & Pasts | MRR #423

Words on some new & recently unearthed recordings from Plastic EP & the Records, Nylex, Blowdryer, Germ House & Far Corners, from Maximum Rocknroll #423 (August 2018). 

On their debut 45 from 1981, Melbourne’s PLASTIC EP and the RECORDS crashed through a whole jumble of outsider DIY reference points, where Nuggets-on-a-budget garage stomp with a wobbly organ collided with the economical punk of first-wave UK bands like the SUBWAY SECT. It’s a holy grail obscurity of the early ‘80s Aussie weirdo underground, but it turns out that the group’s most flipped-out sounds were actually committed to tape shortly after the release of the first record, intended for a two-song follow-up single that never materialized due to the studio losing the masters. Luckily for all of us, PLASTIC EP and crew had dubbed rough mixes of the songs to cassette, and they’ve finally seen the light of day as proper 7” (alongside a combined reissue of the first 45 and 1982’s New Wave-ish “Secret Love” single, by which time they’d changed their name to the EPs) thanks to a new Australian label called Xerox Music. A-side “Well You Want to Make A Record” is total untrained post-punk madness, in which PLASTIC EP and the RECORDS ditch their original drummer for the clatter of a Dr. Rhythm drum machine, add some wild, buzzsaw guitar scrape, and top it with deadpan hollering about how to make a record (“add a bit of bass / not so much snare!”), which basically winds up sounding like some long-lost electro-punk successor to the DESPERATE BICYCLES’ do-it-yourself incantations. On the flip, “I’m Not Coming Back” is more subdued in an off-kilter TELEVISION PERSONALITIES kind of way, with psychedelic meandering piano only slightly tempering the frenetic drum machine pulse and flurry of distorted guitar. A lost classic, and very much in line with the shambolic and surreal industrial art-punk that the equally great SUNDAY PAINTERS were crafting several hours away in Wollongong during the same era, if you’d like to do some further digging. (Xerox Music, xeroxmusicaustralia.bandcamp.com)

Outside of the FALL, PYLON have arguably been the most important band in shaping and influencing every conception that I have of what could be considered the post-punk ideal. I’ve made references in the past to PYLON bassist Michael Lachowski’s assertion that the group’s primary intention was to make art with instruments, and just as modern art is often dismissed as something that could be easily recreated by anyone due to the seeming simplicity of its technique or forms, PYLON’s brilliantly minimalist art-punk approach seems to be evoked as a misguided comparison for more and more contemporary bands just because they also happen to have an affinity for mutant disco rhythms or sharp, brittle stabs of guitar. So a PYLON reference isn’t something that I drop casually, but if anyone is deserving of one these days, it’s this new quartet from Adelaide, Australia called NYLEX, whose self-titled debut cassette has all of the tightly-wound and danceable tension of Gyrate, with the addition of some goth-leaning smudged eyeliner melancholy. The shimmering guitar and ethereal, shadowy melodies in “Heavy Air” and “Against the Knife” conjure some serious early 4AD-level drama, but it’s the dark and understated but deeply propulsive basslines that really give each of the tape’s six songs their shape, allowing the vocals plenty of space to zig-zag from subtle whispers to stern, obliquely dissociated narrations. And when they’re at their most stark and jagged (see: “Fascinate” or “Decide”), NYLEX’s coolly restrained post-punk paranoia really does draw a perfectly shaky line directly from Athens in 1980 to Adelaide in 2018. (Tenth Court, nylextenthcourt.bandcamp.com)

Philadelphia’s BLOWDRYER are back with a self-titled tape consisting of their first new recordings since 2014’s Deprogrammed cassette, and they’ve apparently spent the last few years stripping their previous sugar-spiked, BREEDERS-ish noise-pop framework into some seriously taut nouveau-wave. The fuzzed-out group harmonies in the relative jangly “Over and Over” help connect the dots between BLOWDRYER and guitarist Sarah Everton’s previous band BLEEDING RAINBOW, but it’s a relative outlier this time around, as the anxious, jittery precision of songs like “Underdeveloped” and “Photocopy” more often suggests early WIRE as translated by modern punk women in a basement with a four-track machine. Lyrical phrases are shouted out and repeated like anti-slogans pulled from Jenny Holzer’s Truisms series (“you know I’m well aware of my self-satisfaction,” or “your life is in balance, you have total control”), backed by needling slashes of guitar and bashed drums for some of the best lo-fi URINALS-besotted racket since the arrival of those first two NOTS singles, before they tumbled down the synth-punk path. Really hope it takes them a little less than four years to put something else out after this one... (blowdryer.bandcamp.com)

Justin Hubbard has been knocking out angular, nervous-edged post-punk and damaged DIY pop with both GERM HOUSE and FAR CORNERS over the last several years, and a new split cassette collects eight songs from each project that were recorded between 2015 and 2017 in the midst of a relocation from Las Cruces, New Mexico to Rhode Island. Hubbard handles all of the instrumental duties in GERM HOUSE, crafting skewed and scrappy melodies that generally recall the Xpressway Records bands who lobbied a noisier and more experimental response to the Flying Nun-dominated 1980s Kiwi pop scene, by way of the tape hiss-saturated hooks of various home-recording, Ohio-based oddballs in the GUIDED BY VOICES/TIMES NEW VIKING continuum. In contrast, FAR CORNERS are a full-fledged band in the paranoid future-punk style of the A FRAMES or ANRGY ANGLES, all loping basslines, choppy guitar and stuttering rhythms, urgent and agitated and appropriately blown-out because reality is a mess. The shared DNA between the two sides of the split becomes a little more apparent in GERM HOUSE songs like “Inside the Room” or “Over/Under,” which center the sort of ramshackle keyboard squeals and buttoned-up/waved-out bounce that earned any number of late ‘70s/early ‘80s Midwestern art-punk bands a spot in the Hyped to Death hall of fame. When was the last time you came across a non-compilation C60 of wall-to-wall hits? This one certainly seems to fit the bill.  (Fuzzy Warbles, fuzzywarbles.bandcamp.com)

[pogoselvaggioblog]

IDLES - Joy as an Act of Resistance (partisan, 2018)

Bacchette che scandiscono il tempo come un rasoio, basso pulsante come una vena: questa è COLOSSUS degli IDLES. Pezzo catartico e potentissimo nel suo noise-punk quasi alla Nick Cave, mi fece conoscere il gruppo di Bristol. Capitanati dal carismatico Joe Talbot (classe '84, e per questo mio coetaneo) mi fecero appassionare per tutta la "non"-scena "shred" con gruppi come Viagra Boys, Amyl & the Sniffers e i sempre giovanissimi the Chats. Ma sto già divagando. Appunto COLOSSUS, pezzo manifesto di una generazione fottuta da se stessa, che non si è presa mai sul serio e che è stata, nel suo anonimato, derisa da quella precedente e sorpassata da quella dopo. Insomma la mia generazione!

Fottuti proprio come i primi IDLES, che suonavano uno scialbo postpunk che nel 2011 era già un suono paleolitico. Con l'esplosione nugaze e chillwave non se li cagò nessuno. Sembravano dei Metronomy di serie-b troppo fighetti. Anche se in realtà i nostri venivano da realtà complesse, soprattutto il frontman: Talbot gallese di nascita andò a studiare nella lontana Bristol, anche se dovette assistere per anni alla madre paralitica, vivendo una vita a metà per aiutarla nelle sue necessità. Infatti già nel primo EP "Welcome" dell'anno successivo, si faceva largo qualche sentore noise e meno patinato e più rude. Gli anni passavano e i sogni di belle speranze di un ventenne, diventano la disillusione nichilista ma sempre attenta a rimanere avvinghiato al solidale di un trentenne quasi quarantenne che con la sua band non era riuscito ad affermarsi. Nel 2015 la madre di Talbot muore e molte cose cambiano nei pensieri dei nostri. Gli IDLES si faranno portatori di un messaggio semplice quanto banale, ma fortissimo: "La vita è una merda, vogliamoci bene". Così nel 2017 esce BRUTALISM, album scarno, frenetico e sincopato dove il punk abbandona il post per abbracciare un OI! stradaiolo e reale; la voce di Talbot si fa roca come un cocainomane e parla della sua vita, la morte della madre, il padre assente e la politica di strada della gente di tutti i giorni che si sveglia presto per lavorare. Le chitarre sono trame di noise dove il basso cavernoso di Devonshire si staglia. L'attitudine ricorda l'hardcore punk duro di gruppi come Black Flag e i primi Husker Du. Album che anche se in Italia è completamente snobbato, nei paesi anglosassoni fa il botto, riportando un pizzico d'interesse a quel cadavere pieno di rimandi che si chiama ROCK.

Insomma gli IDLES riportano un certo suono più profondo, che non guarda all'hype, alla centralità della musica alternativa. E nel 2018 escono con quello che per me è il loro capolavoro: Joy as an Act of Resistance. Album che va al numero 1 in UK cazzo! Come a testimoniare che la musica distorta può ancora dire la sua. Tutto inizia con con la già citata "COLOSSUS", che fra mantra paranoici e complessi d'inferiorità verso la figura paterna (appunto il Colosso) poi manda tutto AFFANCULO con la seconda parte punk'n'roll dove, fra citazioni al wrestling e agli stooges, si arriva al secondo pezzo "NEVER FIGHT A MAN WITH A PERM"; pezzone tiratissimo che mi ricorda dei Wire che limonano con i Dead Kennedys e che sa di periferia e piscio. Quei posti dove ti ritrovi a comprare droga e si avverte quella tensione da film di De Palma. "I'M SCUM" è il classicismo di un pub rock mai datato che negli anni post covid è come un inno a chi è rimasto fregato perchè non ha avuto il pelo nello stomaco e il coraggio a diventare un mediocre influencer che pubblicizza lo svapo del momento. "DANNY NEDELKO" dedicata all'amico degli IDLES nonchè cantante degli Heavy Lungs, è un anthem a tutte le persone che trovano la loro casa in una terra che non è la loro ma che lo diventa; sì avete capito bene, una rock band che parla di immigrazione senza retorica, con cori da OI punk! Forse i gruppi neopsichedelici che si fanno le seghe mentali e parlano di fantascienza fra riff ripetitivi vi garbano di più; ma gli IDLES riprendono un discorso rimasto fermo ai gruppi postcore come i FUGAZI. Forse peccano in originalità sonora, ma riescono a rielaborare il tutto in un suono granitico e che nella sua noncomplessità acchiappa l'ascoltatore come facevano i milioni di gruppi punk che sono morti con Spotify. Così "LOVE SONG" sembrano dei Buzzcok primitivi. L'agghiacciante "JUNE" che parla della morte della figlia di Talbot ancor prima di nascere, rende perplessi per come la vita ti investa come un TIR e del senso d'impotenza che genera. Si può essere personali senza essere retorici, e il rock ci ha regalato perle che forse negli ultimi anni non vedevamo più: fra ricerche di hype, social media manager e suoni patinati; JUNE arriva come un pugno in uno stomaco.

La seconda parte dell'album mostra un suono più complesso, e inaugurato da "SAMARITANS" dove la batteria diventa sempre più articolata per liberare la stratificazioni di chitarre noise che però non dimenticano la classicità dei riff, come dei PIXIES cresciuti da degli hooligans. Gli echi post-punk rimangono come in "TELEVISION", ma ricordano più l'artpunk dei primissimi Ultravox al vetriolo che dei Joy Division. Insomma gli IDLES sono più vicini alla gente che lavora e di borghesia non ne vogliono sapere come in "GREAT". Sicuramente s'imborghesiranno come gli U2, ma per adesso (anche l'ultimo album Ultra Mono) sono dei cazzo di workingclassheroes. E allora mi chiedo come mai in italia abbiamo tutti sti gruppetti insulsi chiamati "indie" e gli inglesi possono ancora pogare fra fiumi di birra scadente con pezzi come "GLAM ROCK"? Mi chiedo in cosa abbiamo sbagliato? Perchè gli ascoltatori "alternativi" italiani hanno abbandonato l'iconoclastia, la militanza e la sincerità di una semplice canzone con basso pulsante, batteria che pesta, chitarre distorte e voce da ubriacone? Per cosa poi? La cover che non ti aspetti di Solomon Burke con "CRY TO ME" sa di post serata alcolica e karaoke in una betola a cantare disperati perchè si ha una vita di merda. E si arriva alla granitica "ROTTWEILER" dove il testo ripetitivo e paranoico rende l'idea dello stato di eterna tensione che viviamo in un mondo sempre più lontano e dove anche se tutto è sempre più possibile, rimaniamo sempre intossicati da una rabbia repressa che ci fa trasformare in leoni da tastiera o boomer del cazzo che giudicano l'ennesimo hypster per sfogarsi e sentirsi meglio.

Alla fine mi rimane un gusto fortissimo di birra e la voglia di andare subito a Bristol a pogare in qualche pub striminzito. Forse gli IDLES non saranno un gruppo che rimarrà nelle fodamenta del ROCK; ma in questo mondo diluito dove il covid ci ha portato via pure la normalità di una serata tranquilla dove ascoltare punk rock senza pretese nei locali più squallidi, mentre miliardi di streaming affossavano la musica indipendente; sapere che c'è una band rumorosa e forse un po' paracula, che scala tutte le classifiche (almeno anglosassoni) mi da un po' di speranza sulla possibilità che, un mondo semplice fatto di alcolici offerti, semplicita, antiposerismo e un po' di sana e ruvida vita di strada e fatica lavorativa, possano tornare nella narrativa di quella musica alternativa che ormai si guarda allo specchio narcisisticamente per il suo passato glorioso e ormai borghese.

by Joe Panic

[postmodernart]

Nicholaas Chiao, George on the Green Ground, 2024, digital painting

[edgen11]

Japanese Horror Films of the 1990′s and 2000′s Entry 2

The movie “Ring” (1998), directed by Hideo Nakata may be considered the most popular J-Horror film of all time. It is based on the 1991 novel “Ring” by Koji Suzuki. The film begins with two high schoolers named Masami and Tomoko who are talking about a video tape that bears a curse that kills those who watch it in one week. Tomoko then reveals that she and her boyfriend and two other friends watched a strange tape and then received a phone call right after, but the call was from her mother. But, as soon as Masami goes upstairs, the TV turns on by itself and Tomoko is killed. While this is happening, the cursed tape story is being covered by Tomoko’s aunt Reiko Asakawa, who is a reporter. At Tomoko’s funeral, Reiko learns that two of Tomoko’s friends died on the same night and their faces were found “twisted in fear”. So, Reiko investigates Tomoko’s room and finds a receipt for a photo that shows the four friends with all their faces distorted. Reiko goes to the cabin to investigate and finds an unlabeled tape and watches it. The tape shows a series of disturbing images while making a loud screeching noise and ends with an image of an open well. Reiko then receives a phone call but can only hear the loud screeching. Reiko realizes what may have just happened so she locates her ex husband Ryuji to help investigate. The two take a picture of Reiko’s face and find that the face is distorted in that picture as well, so Ryuji watches the tape and asks Reiko to make him a copy of the tape so that he may further study it. They find a message saying “frolic in brine, goblins be thine” which is dialect from Izu Oshima island. They also learn of a woman named Shizuko Yamamura who lives on this island and is seen in the tape. So, Reiko and Ryuji sail to Oshima to learn more about Yamamura. They learn that Yamamura predicted the eruption of Mt. Miahara, and was heavily investigated, and had many slanderous reports which drove her to suicide. That night, Reiko and Ryuji stay at the inn ran by Yamamura’s brother, Takashi. Reiko and Ryuji have a horrific vision of Yamamura’s daughter Sadako killing the reporter whop incited her mother’s suicide. The vision also featured Sadako running up to Reiko and grabbing her wrist. When she wakes up, she notices a hand shaped bruise on her wrist. Reiko and Ryuji realize that Sadako created the cursed tape to express her fury against the world. The two sail back to Izu and discover a well underneath the cabin where Tomoko and her friends watched the tape. Then, through another vision, they realize that Sadako’s corpse is at the bottom of the well. They empty the water from the well and eventually find Sadako’s corpse, and they then notice that the bruise has disappeared from Reiko’s wrist and are relieved that the curse is seemingly broken. The next day, Ryuji suddenly hears the loud screeching and sees that the TV has been turned on by itself and is showing the well from the end of the tape. He watches as Sadako’s ghost crawls out of the well, then through his TV which frightens him to a fatal state of shock. Reiko, who had been trying to call him, goes to the house and finds that he has died and his body has been taken away by police already. The film ends with a vision that causes Reiko to realize she was the only one freed from the curse by copying the tape and showing it to someone else. 

A key scene from the film, (and perhaps one of the most iconic scenes in J-Horror history) was when Sadako crawled through the TV. Ryuji notices the loud screeching noise and goes to the TV, where he realizes that the tape is displaying the final shot that shows the well. He then sees Sadako in a white dress with long black hair covering her entire face slowly crawl up from the well. In a state of shock, he stares at the TV watching until he hears the phone ring. He goes to the phone, but only hears more of the loud screeching. Sadako slowly approaches the screen and proceeds to crawl through the television. Ryuji yells and runs, but falls and tries to get away, but when he turns back, he is able to see the eye of Sadako, which shocks and kills him. This is a key scene because it was the climax of the movie. When it was believed that the curse was lifted and all was good, at the most unexpected moment we see the most extreme display of horror in the entire movie. This scene is a legendary movie scene and had great influence on J-Horror films and horror films in general.

[lonelyandgone]

Previous Chapters:  Teaser/Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

 Unexpected – Chapter 8

 He’s two thirds through a dream consisting of Taylor and Diane Lane when he hears it.  A thud, probably louder in the silence than it actually is, followed by a distinctive “Ow.”  He opens one eye, his face hard against the pillow, his mind struggling to adjust to the disruption.  Everything is a haze.

His body refuses to move, the effects of tequila and Taylor in full force and the vision in his lone open eye is blurry.  So blurry that it takes him a good 30 seconds to see the ghostly figure in the far corner of the darkened room.  

“Taylor,” he squeaks out, his voice raw and dry.

He sees the figure jerk at his word, turning toward him.  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “ignore that I’m here.”

“Pretty hard to do when you are here.”  He tries to chuckle, his voice hitching in his throat and lodging there like a softball. He has to cough to dislodge it, forcing the laughter out in a distorted sound.  “Are you still drunk?  And lost?”

“No,” she starts to laugh but then cuts herself off.  He knows she’s reacting to the silence, that she feels she still needs to be quiet even though he’s the only other person in the house and he is obviously awake.

He turns his body, rustling loudly as he sits up in the bed.  He hears her sigh but the darkness still veils her face, leaving her features and expressions hidden to him.  “Taylor . . . what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get a blanket,” she says softly before he hears the sound of something fall to the floor, the noise a stark contrast to the quiet surrounding them, “obviously I’m failing at that but I’m trying.”

Cocking his head to the side, he narrows his eyes, trying to get a better view of her.  It doesn’t work.  “And why exactly are you getting a blanket,” he asks, his voice still ragged.

She huffs, leaning down he assumes to pick up whatever crashed to the floor.  “Because this is where I keep the extra blankets and I need one so I can sleep on the couch.”

“Still not following you . . . ,” he tries to laugh, his body still struggling to adjust to his awakened state.

He finally catches a glimpse of her face when she stands back up, the light from the moon outside caressing her cheeks, illuminating her porcelain skin even more.  His body reacts immediately, his mind going back to the night before and the dream he was enjoying when she woke him.  He should be used to the physical response she provokes in him but he’s not.  

“I had to go to the bathroom,” she sighs, “and when I went back to bed, Dodger and Olivia had made themselves pretty comfortable across my pillows.  They look so precious that I can’t bring myself to wake them up.  So, I’m going to go downstairs and sleep or watch a movie or something.”

He can feel the smirk inching across his lips as he watches her latch her hands onto her hips, her eyes now fully on him.  “So, you’re giving up your warm and cozy bed for my dog and your cat?”

She nods.  “Yes.”

“Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”

She snickers at his words, shaking her head.  “No.  You just didn’t see how precious they look. You wouldn’t be able to wake them either.”

“Yeah, I probably would,” he groans, watching as she smiles and then turns back around, rummaging again in the closet.  

“Go back to sleep, Chris. I promise I’m leaving in two seconds.”

He grins when he hears her words and hum’s briefly before spitting out.  “One . . Two.”  And then chuckling loudly.

He can still barely see her but he hears her huff and notices the outline of her face as she turns toward him.  She holds nothing in her hands.  “Fine, Captain America, I will let you get back to your beauty sleep and I’ll see if maybe the two divas in my bed will at least let me have the comforter.”  

She’s taken maybe five steps toward the door when he leans his body over in the bed, reaching his arm into the darkened space she is in and grasping her arm.  He feels her jerk at his touch but he doesn’t loosen his grasp on her.

“C’mon Mrs. Captain America, there is a bed and a blanket right here . . . and while I can’t see the television at this moment I’m sure there is one if you want to watch it.”  

Should he have called her Mrs. Captain America?  Probably not. But he likes the way those words come off of his tongue, the way they make his heart twinge and shutter, even if he’s only referring to her as a fictitious wife to his fictitious character and using the name she revealed the kids at Leo’s party had called her yesterday..

His hand is still resting on her arm when he realizes she isn’t moving.  He tugs gently.  “C’mon.”

It’s at that moment when the light sifting through the window moves ever so slightly and rests upon her face.  She’s staring at him, her expression light, her eyes soft.  He doesn’t know what she’s thinking but damn, he wishes he did. He knows her well enough to know something is going on behind those amazing blue eyes.  

It takes her a few seconds to register the warm glow now on her and he watches as she shakes her head and forces a smile.  “You want me to sleep with you,” she says before catching herself as she figuratively stumbles over her words, “I mean . . .”

He grins, enjoying this moment far more than he knows he should.  “I know what you mean,” he laughs, “And, yes I do.  After all, the sex is better with me.”  He winks and she lunges forward, grabbing a pillow from the bed and tossing it at his head.  He releases her arm just in time to catch it.

“You’re deplorable,” she hisses through her laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in the air to signify his truce.  “How was I not supposed to say something like that when you gave me the perfect opening.” She lowers her head, grinning, and he savors the lightness in the room.  “Really Swift, this is your bed.  I’m just borrowing it.  And since my dog has apparently taken up residence in your other bed, the least I can do is give you this one back.”

“Your dog is a negative influence,” she says as she shifts her body enough to sit on the edge of the bed, “you must have taught him well.”

“Ouch,” Chris cackles, grabbing his heart and feigning hurt.  

His grin widens when he sees her kick her feet onto the bed, stretching her long legs out along it. He rakes his eyes along her body, up the length of her exquisite legs to her shorts and then to his Captain America t-shirt.  But it’s when he gets to her face, her head now resting back against the headboard, her gaze titled towards him, that he stops.  She . . . .well she smirks.  

He knows she’s caught him giving her the once over but she doesn’t say anything.  Instead she simply smiles softly and then shifts her eyes away. “If I watch tv, will it bother you?”

“No,” he stutters, shifting his own position in the bed, “I sleep with a tv on at home anyway. Dodger likes to watch it through the night.”

“And I thought I spoiled my cats,” she laughs heartily.    

He just shakes his head as he watches Taylor reach over and find the remote control on the table beside of her.  He closes his eyes briefly when she switches it on, giving himself a moment to adjust to the invasive light.  She’s flipping through channels when he opens them back up.  

And then it clicks. The gravity of the moment and what it looks like, what it feels like.  At least to him.  Taylor, beside him in bed, dressed in his t-shirt.  It’s that perfectly normal moment, the perfectly right one.  And he wishes more than anything that it was his to keep.  That it was his to do more with than just gaze upon from the outside.  

His eyes flutter shut once more, the headache that was gnawing at him before starting to make itself known again.  “You ok,” he hears Taylor asks but he doesn’t open his eyes.  

He nods.  “Yeah.  I just forgot how much tequila makes my head hurt.”  He could add that she does too but he doesn’t.  That’s not a revelation for now.

Lying his head back, he lifts his chin.  His eyes remain closed.  “I think maybe I should leave you alone,” she says again, “I can get you some medicine and go downstairs.”

He hears her click the television off and he reaches blindly across the bed to grab her wrist. “Taylor, please don’t.”

“You need sleep and meds,” she starts as she pulls her wrist back.

“No, I need you,” he responds absentmindedly, “I mean. . . . fuck.”  He opens his eyes, finding her moonlit gaze upon him.  “Just stay, Taylor.  Watch your movie.  I’m fine. Delirious and unable to speak coherently, maybe, but fine.”  

He expects her to press, to perhaps ask what he means by needing her but she doesn’t.  She winks instead.  “Still drunk?”

He lowers his chin as he chuckles.  “No.”

“I beg to differ,” she laughs and he reaches across the bed, swiftly maneuvering his body until he is to her side, his arm across her midsection.  

His eyes latch onto hers and he can see the shock simmering in her blue orbs.  From the bottom of his vision, he can see her chest rising and falling rapidly, the same happening to his own.  

He holds her gaze for one second.  Two. Three.  “Completely sober,” he says heavily, moving his hand to grab the remote from beside of her and then propelling his body back to its seated position.

Was that dramatic? Yep.  Does he care?  Not at all.

He raises the remote and starts flipping through the channels, ignoring the pierce of Taylor’s gaze on him.  It stays there for a few moments as he continues to surf through infomercials and shopping networks, until he feels her turn away.  

He passes over commercials with puppies, old episodes of Forensic Files and The Simpsons before he hears Taylor mutter, “Stop.  Go back.”

He flips back, stopping when he realizes what she’s wanting to see.  Him.  Specifically, him in Before You Go. He shakes his head, the word “fuck” roaming through his head more times than he can count.  He almost says it aloud but settles for, “Really Taylor?  C’mon.”

“I like this movie,” she proclaims, “I told you that before.”

She did.  On the plane to Paris.  Her words about his film one of the reasons he decided to ask her to explore the city with him in the first place.  Her words leading to so many other words, so many other moments.  

To this one.

“I uhh,” he stammers, “I really don’t like watching myself.”

Her blue eyes are gentle on him as she moves her gaze.  “It’s a wonderful movie, Chris.  You are a wonderful actor.  Don’t be ashamed of how amazing you are.”

He shakes his head.  “I’m not ashamed, it’s just weird for me.  And honestly watching it with you . . .”

Her eyes narrow, her lips pierced briefly before she exhales.  “This movie in particular or any movie?”

It’s a valid question. He knows.  Completely and totally valid and probably even innocent.  But what is he supposed to say to her?  That this movie has far too many moments that remind him of her.  That he probably could have played this role 100 times better now that she’s showed him exactly what that kind of love and longing feels like.  

“Any movie,” he lies, “with anybody.”  He lies more.

He knows she doesn’t accept his answer.  He can see it written all over her face.  But she turns her attention back to the movie, settling her shoulders into the back of the bed.  “You can turn it,” she says after a few seconds.  

He doesn’t.  He settles himself into the bed, placing the remote between them.  And he watches himself on screen.  

They are ten minutes in when she speaks up again, this time her question surprising him.  “You dated her, right?”

He glares at her, but she doesn’t turn, keeping her eyes glued only on the television, her face expressionless.  “How’d you know that?”

When she finally does turn to him, she smirks.  “I know how to google someone.”

Raising an eyebrow, he opens his mouth in surprise.  “You googled me?”

She shrugs, laughing. “Oh c’mon, you haven’t looked me up?”

His mind instantly sifts back to him looking at pictures of her with Tom, of pictures of Tom arriving to see her.  He nods. “I might have.”

Her smile broadens and she shakes her head.  “And you knew that I dated at least Calvin, even if you didn’t know his real name. But really, she’s beautiful.  Why didn’t it work?  Did you meet Jenny when you were with her?”

He hesitates briefly, lowering his eyes as he thinks about her question.  “Alice is gorgeous.  That’s obvious.  And we clicked when we were filming but when filming stopped, it was like everything slipped away.  I think we got wrapped up in it all because we were pretty much the only people in the movie so we were together all of the time.”

“So, you were lonely,” Taylor presses, causing him to pause.  He knows her words.  It’s ones they both used to describe their night of passion in Boston.  Even if he knows, at least for him, it wasn’t true.

“I guess in some ways. I think on some level we all have the primal desire for intimacy so we consciously and subconsciously seek it out constantly.  I liked Alice, she liked me.  We connected on a variety of levels but in the end, not on the ones that mattered.”

He watches her as her eyes move to the television and then back down before finally settling back to him. “And what are your levels that matter?”

He’s sure this probably isn’t a conversation for 3:30 in the morning.  Probably isn’t one he should be having with his friend’s girlfriend, with the woman he silently loves.  But yet he’s drawn to answer.  

“The level where you think about them all the time.  That you can’t picture your life with anyone else.  That you feel like you can talk to them about anything and everything.  That even those normal everyday conversations are special to you.  That you want to sit on that porch swing at 80 holding their hand.”

“That they are your perfect river,” she interjects, causing his mind to go back to their conversation in Boston.  The one that happened just minutes before they ended up wrapped up in each other. The one they later chalked up to being for reasons that they actually weren’t.  

“Yeah,” he says, watching as she continues to keep her gaze from him.  

She’s quiet for a few minutes, the only movement from her being an occasional clenching and unclenching of her jaw.  And then he sees her shake her head, lowering it slightly before she turns her head toward him, a slow, sly smile engaging on her lips.  

“You date an awful lot of your costars,” she says before whipping her head back laughing.

And there it is, the wicked sense of humor emerging in the middle of what had been a serious conversation. He’s learning this about her. He’s noticed it several times before. It arriving most when she’s uncomfortable, when she feels she needs to lighten whatever seriousness is going on.

And when the smirk takes over his face, he has to stop himself from saying the words in his head. So does Tom Hiddleston.  He knows those aren’t welcome words at the moment and, quite honestly, he can’t fathom seeing the hurt on her face that he would know he caused.  So, he keeps that tidbit to himself.  

He licks at his bottom lip and then bites it before he responds, waiting long enough for her to finally move her eyes back to his.  “What can I say,” he quips, “I love love, even if it turns out not to be love. And I love women.  I really love women.”  He winks.

Reaching across the space between them, she smacks at his arm.  

He holds his hands up in the air, a mischievous grin on his face.  “Hey, you’re the one with the player reputation, not me.  Tay can’t make em stay.”

He throws his head back in a maniacal laugh when he sees her eyes widen and her mouth fall open.  

“Not funny,” she says in between snickers, “just go back to watching yourself on TV.  Watching your ex too.”

Lowering his chin, he winks at her again.  “Ok, then after this we will watch a Jake Gyllenhaal movie.  Do you prefer Brokeback Mountain or Southpaw?”

She winks right back at him just before she answers, “Actually, I prefer Love and Other Drugs.” She winks once more.  “Nice to see you have done your research on my love life though.”

He can’t win, he knows this, so he settles for a laugh and then returns his view to the television once Taylor does.  

They watch the remainder of the movie without chides, Taylor looking at him once to tell him that it reminded her of their time in Paris.  The mere mention of the night bringing forth an assault of images and memories, senses and feelings.  And then prompting yet another revisit to their conversations there.  But as he thinks and reminisces, she silences, and he occasionally notices her gaze fall to the blanket covering her legs or less occasionally, to him.  

When the credits start to roll, she turns her body slightly, shrugging when his eyes meet hers.  “I should probably go see if I have a pillow now.”

“Are you sleepy,” he asks.

She shakes her head slowly. “No.”

“Then I have a better idea,” he smiles and then pushes himself out of the bed.  He takes her hand and pulls her up when he reaches her side, nodding toward the door when he does.  “Get some pants on.”

Her nose crinkles up as she narrows her eyes on him.  But she smiles.  “Why?”

Placing his hands on his hips, he licks at his bottom lip.  “Do you trust me?”  She nods but says nothing.  “Then go get some pants on.”  

They pull into his driveway thirty-five minutes later.  After ten questions from Taylor about where they are going at this time of the morning and a five-minute conversation with Taylor emphatically proclaiming that Dodger didn’t need to be woke and brought with them, that he was sleeping far too peacefully in her bed.

“You brought me to your house,” she says when she realizes where they are, her voice more amused than irritated.  

“We aren’t going in,” he responds before pushing the door open and slipping out.  He’s halfway around the car to open her door when she beats him to the punch and steps out.  

She glares at him, hands on hips, looking far more adorable than anyone should with a partial hangover and virtually no sleep.  He shakes the thought from his head the second it enters it.  “So . . . . you brought me to your house to not go in and to . . . . help me out here, Chris.”

He can only laugh at her question, at the confusion that sets in on her beautiful features. Before she can question him further, he turns around, pressing a button on the garage door opener he brought from the car.  

“Oh, so we’re gonna hang out in your garage,” she says behind him, amused.  

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “No.”  He takes a few steps toward the opening, stopping just outside the space and turning to her, holding his hand out to the side as he does.  “We’re just changing modes of transportation.”

She gets it then, he quizzing blue eyes roving behind him until they stop suddenly.  He smiles when he sees the look of confusion grow on her face.

“A motorcycle,” she says, tapering her gaze.

He nods, glancing back at the black bike he rides not nearly enough parked behind him.  “Yeah.”

He’s still looking there when he hears her speak again.  “Why?”

“Because,” he starts, taking a long, deep breath, “Because you said it . . . . . In Paris.  It was one of your wishes.”

He keeps his view from her, keeps it focused on the bike, though his mind is nowhere near it.  He believes if he listens close enough, he can hear his words processing in Taylor’s head.  

“You remember that,” she asks after a few long seconds pass, her voice so delicate now that he feels it could break in the gentle blowing breeze.

He turns to her then, his own baby blues meeting hers and settling there for a few moments.  He can see the questions beneath the soft sheen.  When he doesn’t immediately say anything, she narrows her gaze on him and he nods.  “Taylor,” he says softly, his voice wavering more than he wants, “You said you wanted to ride a motorcycle.  Not fake rides like you’ve done in videos.”  He hesitates once more, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair before he rests his view on her and huffs.  “I remember everything about every conversation we’ve had. Your words are stuck in my head and I can’t get them out.  Sometimes I wish I could.”  He turns then, not wanting to give her more, not wanting to reveal more.  Like that he remembers the exact way her lips start to curve when she’s giving him the smile he knows is meant just for him.  How when she’s held his hand, he’s noticed how she tightens her fingers around his and then loosens them, like the smallest of hugs. He could tell her that he thinks he’s memorized the rhythm of her heartbeat, as cheesy and corny as he knows it sounds.  He could tell her a lot more but he doesn’t.  Instead, he takes a few more steps into the garage, grabs a helmet sitting on a shelf and turns around to reach it out to her.  

She lingers briefly, her expression muddled, and then slowly steps forward, taking the helmet from him.

He expects her to ask more questions about why he’s doing this or, at the very least, where they are going but she doesn’t.  She simply follows his lead when he gets on the motorcycle, positioning her body behind him with her hands on his waist.    

There is a hint of coolness in the California air as they ride off into the darkness and he can occasionally feel her body shudder behind him, what he’s unsure of is if it the chill or him that is causing it.  He tells himself that it’s definitely not the latter.  That friends don’t elicit responses like that from friends even though he’s well aware that most friendships aren’t like his and Taylor’s. Not even close.

They ride along the narrow streets from his house, onto the wider lanes around the city until they eventually reach the PCH.  She nestles in closer to his back when they do and he can vaguely hear her whisper the word “beautiful” as the waves of the Pacific Ocean crash against the pristine beaches under a blanket of sparkling diamonds and the bright luminescence of the moon.  

This is how he chooses to love California.  In the darkened quiet, void of smog and cars, honking horns and incessant chatter.  He discovered years ago that at this time of the morning, before the earth awakens again, that the PCH is virtually vacant, the beach empty, the atmosphere perfect.  On nights where sleep doesn’t find him, he sometimes does just this. Rides his motorcycle along the perfectly paved roads of the pacific coast highway to the place where he is taking Taylor now.  Sometimes he leaves the motorcycle at home, letting Dodger ride shotgun as they enjoy the night and morning.

Eventually they make it to the small dirt road he’s driven down several times before.  He feels Taylor tense up behind him when they start their descent down the narrow path, descending for a few minutes before they reach a gate.  Knocking the kickstand down, he moves his body off his cycle and then glances at Taylor, holding up his finger.  “One second.”

Walking a few feet, he punches in a code on the gate, swings it open and then gets back on the bike. He drives 50 yards in before he stops again and cuts the engine off, the stark contrast of the rumbling of the motorcycle against the utter silence of the land around them immediately settling in, causing a slight murmuring in his ears.  He pulls his helmet off before he swings his leg over and reaches for Taylor’s hand.  She takes it without hesitation and he pulls her closer to him, placing his fingers under her chin to slip off the strap of the helmet and pull it gently from her head.

“Did you enjoy the ride,” he asks as he places her helmet on the handlebar of the motorcycle.  

She smiles freely, her answer widely evident across her face.  “It was beautiful,” she whispers before moving her gaze behind him, to part of the reason he brought her here, “this is beautiful.”  He follows her gaze, to the moonlit beach and the long dock jetting into the ocean, it’s expanse darkened by the night sky, the light from the moon barely gracing it.  

She finds him again, whipping her body around to lay her eyes on him.  “How do you know about this place?”

He shrugs, stepping forward to stand beside of her as he looks out at the view before him.  He can hear the waves crashing against the shore, see them sparkling under their moonlit illumination.  It’s a dreamlike sight.  

“I learned about this place the first year I lived in LA.”  He glances at her and then turns back to the ocean.  “It wasn’t a good year.  I had struggled to make ends meet, hated the three roommates I had and wasn’t getting nearly the work I had hoped to get.  Or at least the quality work I had hoped to get.  I spent most of my down time at clubs or bars and that didn’t help. One night I ended up at this bar in West Hollywood and was drinking my sorrows away.  I started talking to this older man, probably in his 60’s who had sat down beside me.  I told him that I hated LA.  I hated California.  That all there was here was temptation and sin.”  He chuckles at the memory.  “Yes, I told him sin.  And he listened patiently to me whine and moan and then he told me that if all I ever looked for was temptation and sin, that’s all I would ever find.  I wasn’t drunk enough to not understand what he meant.”

“And,” she prompts, springing his gaze back to hers.  She nods, urging him on.

“And before he left that night, he got a pen from the bartender and he wrote some things on a napkin. It was notes on how to get here, complete with a drawing of where the little dirt road was and asterisks telling me that if I saw Jordan’s Crab Shack, I had gone too far.  He added some numbers at the bottom for the gate and a message saying I hope you enjoy my own little piece of heaven.”  He takes a deep breath before he continues on.  “Anyway, it took me four hours the next night to actually find it.  But I’m pretty glad I did.  Because had I not, I probably would have never stayed in LA and who knows what I’d be doing now.”

He glances at her and then takes her hand in his, “C’mon, I want to show you something.”  He moves her through the sand and onto the dock, listening as the old wooden boards creak as they make their way across them, listening to the gentle nuances of the ocean as it rakes against the structure. It’s a sound that soothes him, one that he relishes.  

When they reach the end, he stops, releasing her hand and stuffing his own into his pockets.  He stares out at the ocean that is surrounding them now.  “This place gives me perspective,” he says, “it makes me realize how small I am in this world, how insignificant the problems I’ve blown up in my head really are.  I sat here that night and realized I had been looking at the world so wrong for so long.  It wasn’t full of temptation and sin, only my life was because I had let it in.  What I hadn’t let in was this . . . . the serene, the peace, the realization that I’m one tiny spec on this planet and how if I was going to get the most out of my time here, I was going to have to let go of how important my life was and embrace how important living is.  So, I changed my life and stopped focusing on the little things, stopped fretting over things that didn’t matter and started enjoying myself more.  And when I feel myself starting to get overwhelmed, starting to fall back into the negativity, I come here and I watch the ocean and I stare at the stars in the sky and I find my balance again.”

His words fall between them, sifting through the salty ocean breeze.  He knows she’s thinking.  It’s one of the things he’s noticed and loves about her.  How she takes every syllable he says and considers it, attaching it to his life as well as her own.  

“I’m sorry I lost my perspective yesterday,” she says softly after a few minutes, her eyes on the water, “and that I drug you into my unbalanced world when I let myself become overcome by the negativity.”  

“We’re human, Taylor. It’s impossible not to falter sometimes. You just have to realize that no matter what this world throws at you, you are amazing and you have to realize that no matter what happens, you have to continue living.  So, isn’t it better to continue to live life on the positive side and enjoy it rather than on a negative slope and fall into an abyss?’”

He moves his body to the side, hitting his arm against hers.  “Besides, you stumbled briefly but you didn’t fall.  I’ve done my google homework, I know that you never fall Ms. Swift.”

She laughs, shaking her head.  “If only that were true.  But maybe now if I feel like I might fall, I’ll come here.”  Her eyes move to him, her smile widening.  “If I could actually find it again. . . . and get in the gate.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, his own grin falling from his cheeks, “if you ever feel like you are going to fall, or that you need perspective or that you need anything, call me. I’ll bring you here or give you a shoulder or a pep talk.”

“Or tequila and ice cream,” she gleams.

He shrugs, his smile returning.  “Or that too.”  

Growing quiet again, she waits a few moments before her soft voice settles back between them.  “Thank you,” she says, “for bringing me here. For giving me all your words of wisdom. For being my friend.”

Friend, he thinks, the word jabbing into his stomach and heart.  He never thought he’d ever consider the word to be hurtful.  “I’ll be whatever you need me to be, Taylor,” he returns painfully, hoping his voice doesn’t show it, and then he plants his eyes on the rustling ocean.

A few minutes pass before he glances behind him and recognizes the soft orange hue starting to tinge the sky above the bluffs.  He reaches for her then, placing his hands on her arms and turning her body completely around.  

“Sit down,” he says, moving his own body to a sitting position on the dock.  When Taylor follows suit, he places his arms around her shoulders.  “Lean back.”

Without any question, she does what he asks, falling back onto his arm as he guides them both to lay on the dock.  “A different perspective,” he says softly, nodding toward the sun just starting to rise over the land.  

They watch the sunrise over the bluffs in silence, both seemingly content in the moment, in the quiet and solitude stretching between them.  Both enraptured in their moment.  Their moment.  She mutters an occasional “wow” and then “beautiful” and he watches as her lips rise and fall in grins and smiles.  

Once the sun is set slightly farther in the sky and its light starts to caress the ocean like a blanket, he hears her delicate voice.  “My mom always calls sunrises new beginnings.  She never calls them sunrises.  When I was growing up and going to school, she’d get me up right as the sun was coming up.  She’d dance into my bedroom singing some song about good morning sunshine and she’d open the curtains, killing my eyes, and she’d say today’s a new beginning Taylor, a new opportunity.  She’s always been such an optimist.  I love that about her.”

He grins at her admission. “I like hearing your stories. Learning about the Taylor before I met you.”

She smiles, turning her head toward him on the dock.  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to Mama E’s stories too.  I’m sure she has some good ones.”

“She does,” he snickers before allowing the noise to fall off, finding himself once again mesmerized by the sunrise taking place, the majesty of it all.  

“Is this going to be our thing,” she says after a few more minutes, her words catching him off guard.  He glances toward her but she doesn’t return his gaze.  Instead, she raises up into a sitting position on the dock. “Sunrises,” she says again, “Paris.  Here.  You keep giving me these.  Each one beautiful but different.”

“Yeah,” he nods to himself before pushing his body up to sit beside of her.  

“I’ve seen the sun rise so many times in Rhode Island, sitting on the terrace and feeling it’s warmth as it makes itself known.  This is the first time I’ve ever seen it rise like this.”

He stares at her, surprised at her words.  “You have a house this close and you’ve never seen a Malibu sunrise?”

She shakes her head, not removing her eyes from the slowly emerging sun.  “No.  I’ve never seen a California sunrise.”

“Adam never brought you?” He’s not sure where the question comes from, likely from knowing her most committed relationship in the past had been with him and that he had been the reason she had stayed in LA as long as she had.  Or perhaps from the knowledge that had he ever been in his shoes and knew of her love for sunrises, he would have brought her to see it as often as he could.  

She shakes her head again. “No.”

“Do you want this to be our thing,” he asks, his mind roving back to her question moments before.  

She looks at him then, her eyes light, her expression tranquil.  He can tell that she’s thinking, that her mind is roaming and roving and processing.  Her tongue jets from her mouth, running along her bottom lip before she tugs at it one time.

And then she moves, carefully moving her body forward until she reaches him and her lips caress onto his. It’s so unexpected that he doesn’t react, his body rigid from shock.  She pulls back almost as soon as it happens, turning away from him and moving her hand to press a strand of hair behind her ear.

He knows she’s about to apologize and he knows that’s the last thing he wants her to do so before any syllables can escape her mouth, he tugs onto her arm, bringing her against him again.  “This can be our thing,” he murmurs against her forehead, “kisses at sunrise.”  He tucks his chin, pressing his lips to hers again, this time allowing his body to relax, his arms to envelope her.  

She responds instantaneously, slipping her tongue between his lips to deepen the kiss, moving her body to position herself fully against him.  His hands slide around her waist and onto her back and he tightens his grasp, lifting her and moving her until she is sitting in his lap, her legs around his torso.  

“Is this another condition of our friendship,” she asks breathlessly, removing her mouth from his only to replace it again.  And then again.  

He smiles against her lips. “I like this condition.  So yes.”

Before he knows it, his hands are in her hair, hers discovering the muscles of his back.  And then almost as quickly, a picture of Tom flashes in his mind.  A hard reminder of where he is who he is with.  

“Fuck,” he says as he pulls back, pushing her shoulders away ever so slightly.  He studies her face, her swollen lips and wide eyes, the breath going in and out of her lips feverishly.  “Fuck Taylor, one of these days I’m not going to be able to stop kissing you.  I’m not going to be able to pull back,” he admits.  

As if she finally realizes what he’s saying, realizes what they’ve been doing, she nods her head emphatically and then pulls her legs up, lifting off him briskly.  She’s up from the floor of the dock and walking away from him within milliseconds, before he can even register her movements.  

“Why do we keep doing this,” she says hastily, her back to him, her legs moving quickly.  He pushes himself up, taking a few steps along the dock to get closer to her.  “Why do we keep kissing and touching and placing conditions on our friendship? Why do you keep remembering our conversations and my wishes and making them happen?  You’re too perfect to me.  What are you doing?  What are we doing?”

“We’re living, Taylor,” he says impulsively, tossing his hands into the air just in time for her to turn and see them.

“Maybe.  But it’s not right when we’re hurting other people.  Or no, we aren’t even hurting other people, we’re just betraying them.”  Her frantic gaze softens a hint, resting fully on him.  “Friends don’t kiss each other like that.”

“I’ll stop kissing you,” he says, not knowing how to deal with the situation between them.

She shakes her head. “I kissed you.”

Nodding, he shrugs. “Then you’ll stop kissing me.”

She moves her head from one side to the other, a look of pain taking over her features and then just as she’s about to say something else, a noise pierces through the air between them.

His phone.

He wants to ignore it, wants to more than anything, but he’s also well aware that it’s very early in the morning and there is no way this is anything but an important call.  No one would call him at this time if it wasn’t.

She turns away when he pulls the phone from his pocket, glancing down to see his managers name upon it.

“Yeah,” he says, rushed, as he puts the phone to his ear.  

He listens to him speak, hears what he has to say, but he never removes his eyes from Taylor standing a few feet away, just off of the dock now.  She doesn’t turn to look at him until he says goodbye.

“Is everything ok,” she asks, her voice raw and shaky, an obvious result of their indiscretion and words just minutes before.  

He nods and then slowly shakes his head.  “Not really. Uh, I was supposed to fly to South Africa in a week but apparently I’m flying today.”  

“Oh, ok,” she stutters, her expression unreadable, “so I guess we need to go.”  Her voice is shaky.  Off.  

Placing the phone back in his pocket, he nods, his mind now filling with tasks and chores required before he can leave, adding to the mess already there.  “Yeah.  I’ll need to pack and get some financial things in order before I go.  And find a kennel for Dodger since I won’t have time to get him to my mom or sisters.”  He places his fingers to pinch his nose and closes his eyes, his head starting to pound yet again.  He rubs there for a few moments and then finds Taylor when he opens his eyes again. “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t expecting this.”

She leans her head, directing it toward the motorcycle.  “Ok,” she stammers, “Let’s go.”

He nods.  “Ok.  We will go to my house first so I can get the car.  I’ll need it to bring Dodger back.”  He’s talking primarily to himself, creating a checklist in his head of things he has to do before his flight in a few hours.  

She places her hand on his arm them, stopping his movement just before he is about to get on the motorcycle.  “Just drop me off.  Brandon can bring Dodger to you after.  Let you get some things done before you have to deal with that.”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “You sure?”  

Nodding, she puts her helmet on and follows him onto the motorcycle.  

The next few minutes pass by in a blur as they head off back down the PCH toward her house, his mind racing as he thinks of more and more things he needs to do, more items to add to his checklist.  They are about halfway there when he feels something different.  Her head is now resting against his back, her body pressed completely against his, her hands on his stomach.  It’s completely different from the ride to Malibu where she felt tense and pensive, her hands never leaving his sides.  It makes him instantly forget about checklists and tasks.

As if on instinct, he releases one hand from the handlebar and brings it to his waist, rubbing it against Taylor’s delicate skin until he reaches her hand.  When he squeezes it, he believes he feels her move even closer to his back.  

They continue this way, her feeling as if she is simply an extension of him, the remainder of the trip back.  And when he kicks the stand down on the bike and turns it off, she doesn’t immediately move. Neither does he.  Instead, he leans his head back, nestling it against the cheek she has resting on his shoulder.  He moves his hand along her arm again until it rests just above hers and he laces their fingers together.

He closes his eyes, taking in the closeness, the feel of the moment, the warmth of her body against his.

He knows how taboo this is, knows how wrong.  He knows she’s aware too.  She’s already expressed to him how they are hurting other people.  And he knows she’s referring primarily to Tom, even if he’s also aware that she still thinks he’s hurting Jenny.  But if she’s giving him this, he’s not going to stop her. There’s no way he ever could.  

It’s only Dodger’s barking at the front door a couple minutes later that separates them.  The invasion seeming to snap Taylor back to her senses as she pulls away from him and slips off the motorcycle.  He half expects her to look upset but she doesn’t. She looks . . . . blank.  

“I, uh,” she stumbles, her eyes roaming around his but not settling there, “I was thinking that maybe Dodger can stay here.  If you want. If you don’t, that’s fine too but I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m going to be gone for at least two months, Taylor,” he says softly, surprised by her question but his heart also warming at the thought of her wanting to take care of his most prized responsibility.

She furrows her eyebrows, pulling her lip into a bite.  “That’s a long time,” she laughs slightly, “but I’m still ok with it.  But only if you are.”

He moves his eyes to look toward her front door, Dodger still barking behind it.  “What about your cats?”

Her shrug is visible from the corner of his eye.  “They will be fine with him, they love my mom and brother’s dogs.  Or at least Olivia does, Mer just does what she wants but doesn’t bother them.”

“And what about you? I know you have tons of things to do over the next two months?  Won’t having a dog to tote around hinder that?”  He wants to ask if it will hinder seeing Tom.  He doesn’t though.  

“Does it hinder you,” she questions, snickering softly, “Dodger is obviously ok with travelling so he can go with me.  I just plan to work.  I don’t have any elaborate vacations planned and if I go anywhere, it will be brief and he can either go with me or stay with whoever keeps Olivia and Meredith. But really, it’s just an offer, Chris . . . . so, if you don’t want me to keep him, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

She places her hand on his arm and squeezes it before she starts walking toward the front door. She turns around, continuing her backward movement, “But . . .” She reaches the front door, pulling it open and allowing Dodger to sprint out.  Much to his surprise, and possible chagrin, Dodger immediately jumps to Taylor, not to him. She kneels down as he does, raking her hand across the dog’s head.  When she places her arm around his neck, she turns to face him.  “I think perhaps Dodger agrees that I should keep him.” And with that, they both provide him with their best puppy dog faces, Taylor’s tugging at his heart more than he can ever care to admit.

“Ok,” he relents, tossing his hands up in defeat, “ok, you win.  Dodger can stay with you.”

His dog leaps at him then, causing him to fall to his knees as he’s covered with wet licks and dog love. His laughter is joined by Taylor’s.

“Ok buddy. . . . it looks like you get to have fun with the cats for a while longer.”  He rubs heavily atop Dodger’s head and then raises up, finding Taylor staring at the scene he’s putting on.  “I just have to run upstairs and get my watch from the guest bedroom.  I forgot it this morning.  And when I get to the house, I’ll get Dodger’s stuff together to send over here. If I can’t find someone to bring it though, I’ll call you to see if maybe Brandon or someone can pick it up. I doubt I’ll have time before I leave.”

She nods, her smile fading slightly.  “Ok.”

He doesn’t allow himself time to think about her expression or how his stomach drops telling her he’s leaving, forcing himself to push past her into the house and sprint up the stairs toward the bedroom.  But when he gets to the top, he doesn’t move toward the guest room, like he knows he should. For some reason, he’s pulled the other way, toward the open door of Taylor’s room.  He stops just outside the door to the room, laughing when he sees Meredith and Olivia sprawled across the pillows, the blanket strewn haphazardly, a result he has no doubt is due to Dodger.  He notices something then that he hadn’t thought of during the entire time they’ve been together that morning.  Her phone, still sitting on the dresser along the right wall, still plugged in from being charged overnight.  It’s the first time he allows himself to remember the text message he sent her hours ago, before he fell into his short sleep.  A text message that he now realizes she hasn’t seen yet.

He steps inside, briefly considering picking her phone up and deleting the message.  Not giving a thought to the fact that she likely has a security code on it.  He’s not really sure what he’s doing.  Why he continues to walk inside.  But he does.

He glances at her phone, it’s screen blank and dark, to the cats on the bed and then back to the phone. Beside of it, he notices something else. A book.  

He runs his fingers along the cover.  Q&A A Day: 5-Year Journal.  He flips open the cover, his eyes latching on a handwritten note upon the first page.

Life and love are a journey.  To the woman I love who has an amazing way with words, may this journal capture 5 years of that magic. – Tom

His heart hurts as he reads his friend’s note to Taylor, his gaze focusing over and over again on the words “to the woman I love.”  The woman he loves.  

He reads the note again, whispering “I know how you feel” over Tom’s declaration as he does.  But what he doesn’t know, he realizes, is how it feels to have that love returned.  Tom does. Tom knows because he’s the one on the journey of love with her.  Love is their journey.  

He, he thinks, is just a minor part of her life journey.  A friend to her, as fucked up and confusing as their relationship is, she’s never bestowed any word but friend to that relationship.  

His fingers strum along the pages of the book, stopping a few pages in, his eyes scanning over the question there, dated in August 2016.  What can you smell right now?  He can’t help but chuckle a little at the strangeness of the question.  

Below it, in handwriting he recognizes as just like the writing on the back of the painting she did for him, is her answer.  

Tom, his scent still lingering on my bed though he’s not in it. The woodsy musk feeling as if it’s suffocating me because he is gone.  It’s a rag over my mouth.  A sensory attack to my soul.  He’s gone but he’s not.  His smell assaults me.

He squints at the words, his heart confused as to their meaning.  But he doesn’t want to think about it.  He absolutely doesn’t.  So, he flips some more, his fingers stopping on another page with her handwriting upon it, this one dated in November 2016.  

If you could go on vacation tomorrow, where would you go?

Block Island.  To the little cottage I went to when I was 18, on my first vacation alone.  I would enjoy the solitude, the exquisite beauty of complete and utter silence.  I would sit in the swing on the front porch and write songs and poems.  I would turn my cell phone off as I paint and bake. Then in the evening, I would take a walk along the beach, stopping to collect seashells and watch seagulls. Just like I did before.  Just like I loved before.  

He smiles as he reads over her words again, imagining her doing just as she says. A picture of Taylor, hair pulled up in a ponytail, a light sweater covering her frame, vividly painted in his mind.  

He flips a couple more times, stopping on questions dated January 27, 2017 and April 3, 2017 and reading over her answers.  He smiles as he does, taking each tidbit of information she provides about her thoughts and feelings and planting them in the back of his mind.  

Flipping one more time, he stops on a page closer to the bookmark she has tucked inside.  

If you could use one sentence to describe how you feel right now, what would it be?

Her response stops his breath, trapping it in his chest like a prison.  He recognizes the words.  Recognizes them well because he’s the one who said them.  It’s a line from Before You Go.

If you’re committed to someone, you don’t allow yourself to find perfection in anyone else.

His eyes fall shut the moment he reads her answer, his head and his heart swirling.  She had told him she liked the movie.  She had on the airplane going to Paris even before tonight. That’s one thing.  But that line, that line . . . .that’s the one he equates to her.  Not because he was committed to Jenny and found perfection in Taylor, which he did, but because since he’s met her, he can’t find anything near perfection in anyone else.  How in the world could he?  Not when comparing them to her.

But that’s him, not her. What was Taylor referring to when she wrote those words, that line?  Who was she talking about?  Why did she choose that quote to describe how she was feeling at that moment?

He opens his eyes to the top of the page, his chest heaving heavily as he reads the date.  June 24, 2017.  June 24th, he repeats to himself, the date lodging into his mind like a dagger.  It’s the date he left Watch Hill.  The date Tom arrived there.  

He closes the book, his heart surging in his chest.  And he closes his eyes again, confusion raking all through his mind and body.  

One.  Two.  Three. Breathe.  One.  Two. Three.  He counts silently in his head and then jumps when he hears Dodger bark downstairs.  

He’s already forgotten what he came up here for and he runs a hand down his face while he thinks. Watch, he tells himself, to get his watch.  And get yourself together, he adds silently, you don’t even know what any of it means. And it likely means nothing to you.

He heads out of her bedroom, grabs his watch in the guest room and then bounds back down the stairs, stepping inside the living room to find Taylor presenting Dodger with what appears to be a new cat toy.  She glances up at him.  “I know it’s probably not his cup of tea but it will do until later.”  Chris watches as Dodger snatches the small plastic mouse out of her hand and runs off.

His mind is still shaking, rattling with thoughts and emotions he can’t explain or even being to comprehend.  He knows though that he can’t show her that.  

“So, two months,” she says, teetering back and forth on her feet, “you think he will prefer me to you by then?”

“Probably,” he forces out, struggling to find his voice, “I think he kinda already does.”  Not that he blames him, he thinks, not that he blames him at all.  

She smiles, removing her eyes from his.  “And uh, any costars I should be concerned about?”  She clenches her eyes closed, shaking her head and laughing hastily, “I didn’t mean it that way.  I meant it to be a joke.”  She huffs. “But I do know that Michiel Huisman is hot . . . . but married.”  Her wicked sense of humor arriving as a distraction once again.  

He grins at her, the tiniest bit of clarity sifting through him.  “I see you’ve googled my new movie.”

She shifts her head, her smile and laugh more genuine.  “Guilty. I can’t be trusted with a cell phone on nights that I can’t sleep.”

A cell phone, he thinks. Glancing behind him toward the stairs before looking back to Taylor, a sudden barrage of memories from the night before invading his mind.  “Listen, I sent you a text last night,” he flinches, “I know you haven’t seen it and I know that you don’t want to talk about what was said during our game and probably not what was done and said today, but I want you to know that what I said in that text is true.”  

Her expression eases, the smile on her lips diminishing a touch.  She’s considering his admission but she’s not asking about it.  “Ok,” she responds with a slow nod.    

Dodger bounds back into the room then, coming to a skating stop just beside of his legs.  He chuckles as he looks down at his best friend. “I’m gonna miss you buddy but I have a feeling you’re gonna have more fun than me.”  He throws a quick glance toward Taylor.  “You be good for her, ok.”  Dodger barks.  “And play nice with Meredith and Olivia.”  He howls then, prompting both of them to laugh, settling a hint of ease between them.  

“I guess I should go,” he says softly, raising his head so that his eyes meet Taylor’s.  

She nods, “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

Taking a few steps, she walks into the foyer and then opens the front door.  Chris and Dodger follow behind.  At the bottom of the steps, she stops.  “Be careful,” she says as she turns to him, “stay safe.  Have fun.  Don’t forget about your dog.”

“Or you,” he adds with a tentative laugh, his mouth betraying him yet again.    

If it makes her uneasy, she doesn’t show it.  “Well since I’m taking care of your dog, yes me.”  She leans forward then, leaning into him and wrapping her arms loosely around his.  He doesn’t hesitate to accept her embrace, sulking into her and clutching her tightly. Her arms move to his neck and she squeezes.

“Bye, Chris,” she whispers, her voice tickling his ear and sending a shiver down his body.

Before he can stop himself, he plants a kiss on her temple.  “Bye Taylor.”  He wants to take it further, to kiss her the way he did earlier, but he knows he can’t. That he shouldn’t, at least.  Not after he promised to stop kissing her.

So, he turns, rustling his hand on Dodger’s head one more time before he heads toward his motorcycle and puts his helmet on.  He starts it, slowly starts his movement and then throws one final glance behind him, to Taylor and Dodger standing on the steps, watching him as he leaves.  

His heart hurts more than he ever imagined it ever could.

  He doesn’t remember the actual ride to his house.  Doesn’t remember parking his motorcycle in the garage or using his key to open the front door.  

He doesn’t remember packing one suitcase, much less three.  Nor does he recall calling his business manager to make sure that everything is squared away with his accounts before he has to leave.  

He does recall gathering Dodger’s things.  His food, toys and favorite pillow.  And then texting Scott to see if he would be around to take them to Taylor.  His brother, fairly typically, said he had plans but could do it the next day if he needed him to.  He responded with a simple he’d take care of it.

He’s about to call Taylor and see if Brandon can come by and pick it up when he hears the knock on his front door followed by a familiar voice calling his name down the hallway.

“You do realize that you left your door open,” Jeremy says as he enters the kitchen, “Not that I’m concerned about your safety or anything but I don’t think that’s the best of things to do.  Have you ever garnered a look online at the craziness of your own fans?”

On a normal day, he would have seriously laughed at that question because he has and he knows his friend is right.  But not today.  Not with all of the thoughts rummaging through his mind incessantly.

He notices Jeremy’s eyes shifting around the room.  To the pile of things for Dodger and the suitcases lining the wall.  “You kill somebody and going on the run?”

He fakes a laugh. “No.”

“Well then what’s going on? I thought we had made plans a few days ago to play golf today.  I just bought some new clubs.”

He’s right.  They had.  And Chris, well he had forgotten all about it between everything with Taylor and the news that he needed to be on a flight in, he glances at the clock, in a little over an hour.

“I’m sorry.  I forgot about it and I found out this morning that they want me in South Africa earlier than I had anticipated.”  

He can feel Jeremy’s eyes narrow on him and then sees him place his hands on his hips.  “Is that why you seem so frazzled?  Cause this isn’t the first time you’ve had to bail on plans with me and I don’t recall you ever being this messed up about it before. And the last I heard, you were excited about going to South Africa so you should love getting to go earlier than you thought.”

He shakes his head, planting his hands on the counter in front of him.  “I am looking forward to it, kinda, and I’m not really concerned about bailing on you.  Sorry. I just got a lot on my mind and I’m trying to get everything organized to go.”  Turning around, he glances at the bags along the wall and then to Dodger’s things.  “Speaking of which, since I’ve ruined your plans for the day.  Do you think there is any chance that you can drop these things off at Taylor’s for Dodger?”

Jeremy’s eyebrow cocks up instantly, a gleam noticeable in his eyes.  “Taylor?  As in Taylor Swift?”

Shaking his head, he hopes to ward off where he knows the conversation is veering.  “Yes.  All of this was so sudden and she offered to keep him and I agreed.”

Jeremy scoffs, throwing his head back laughing.  “You agreed? I have to say I’m a bit surprised. You are so unbelievably protective of that dog.  You normally only leave him with family or with Jenny.  Not with the girlfriend of your friend.”

He ignores the thought that pops into his head.  That Jeremy has obviously seen something that has told him that Taylor and Tom are back together.  Instead, he throws a look towards him and a slight, forced smile.  “She’s my friend.  You know that.  You were in Boston.”

Jeremy simply smiles, a crooked and probably knowing smile that irritates the shit out of him.  “Ok,” he laughs, “and sure.  I like the idea of visiting Ms. Swift at her house anyway.”

He can feel the hotness flare up in his cheeks, his gaze narrowing on his friend, his jaw locking. Without hesitation, Jeremy notices. “Woah, there buddy,” he cackles, wiggling his eyebrows, “you have a thing for her, don’t you?  I mean I thought so in Boston but you looked like you were two seconds from ripping my head off right there and you know I’m only playing.”

He rubs one hand along his tired eyes before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter and his head in his opened hands.  He knows that right now, he doesn’t have the time or energy to combat Jeremy’s words.

“It’s more than a thing,” he huffs, “I actually really wish it was just a thing.  My life would be a whole lot simpler right now if it was.”

Across the counter, Jeremy pulls up a stool.  His expression softens.  “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head within his hands and then raises up, moving his palms to the counter and pressing into them.  He lowers his eyes to stare at Dodger’s things.  “I just left them at Taylor’s house and I turn around and look one last time and she’s there with Dodger standing beside of her.  Now that image is stuck in my head.  And you know what really sucks?”

“What,” Jeremy questions.

“That for the first time in my entire career, I’m not excited to leave and start filming.  It felt like a mistake walking away from them. Even though she’s not even mine.” He laughs at himself, at the ridiculousness of his words and feelings.  “For the first time, I felt something stronger telling me I should stay here.  And I know I’m crazy to even think that.”

Jeremy’s quiet for a few seconds and then clears his throat.  “What’s crazy about loving someone and wanting more out of your life?”

“It’s crazy when I can’t even have her.  I can’t have that life that I’ve now got stuck in my head.”

“Because of Tom Hiddleston,” Jeremy asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Because she’s in love with someone else,” he says, not wanting to say Tom’s name.  

He raises his view, settling on his friend across the way.  He watches as Jeremy’s jaw tightens once and then he loosens it.  “Have you told her how you feel about her?”

He shakes his head, scoffing, “Of course not.”

“Well then how do you know she’s not in love with you too?”  Jeremy smiles.

He won’t allow Jeremy’s words to settle in his mind, won’t allow himself to even consider them.  He knows he can’t.  For his own sanity.  For his own heart.  He can’t. Because the thought of allowing him to think she may love him too only for her to choose Tom breaks his heart more than thinking she doesn’t love him at all.  

“Listen. . . I’d love to sit and chat with you about this and about how fucked up my head is right now but I have a plane that I’m going to miss if I don’t haul ass to LAX,” Chris retorts, swinging his head back and forth and then turning to move closer to his bags.  He raises with one in his hand, turning back toward Jeremy.  “Can you please take this stuff to Taylor later?”

Jeremy grins.  “You give me her address and I’d be happy to drop by.”

Chris raises his finger on his free hand, turning it toward his friend.  “Do not try to hit on her or, better yet, do not try to get information from her.  Give her Dodger’s stuff and leave.”

“Aye, aye Captain America,” Jeremy cackles, raising his hand to his head and saluting Chris.

He grabs another suitcase, shakes his head, and walks toward the door.  

  He lands in South Africa hours later, his head still hurting.  It’s not tequila to blame at all this time.  It’s totally Taylor and the confusion and confliction that she constantly brings to his head.  

He spent his time on the airplane revisiting every detail of the previous 48 hours.  Their revelations, their kisses, the book, the words.

He figured nothing out. If anything, he feels even farther from figuring anything out.

He’s in the car on his way to the hotel when he remembers to turn his phone on, it beeping instantly when it loads.  

He clicks through texts from his mom and Carly, ignoring Jeremy’s when he sees one from Taylor. His heart warms when he taps on it.

A picture of Dodger sleeping, his head on her lap.  The caption?

I wish I had met Dodger first.  A heart emoji follows it followed then by a heartbreak emoji.  

He smiles, completely envious of his lucky bastard of a dog.  

He knows now, without question, this is gonna be the longest two months of his life.

Typing a message into the box, he hits send.  It’s a message back to Taylor.

The heart emoji followed by the heartbreak emoji.  

His life in two icons.

Two fucking icons.  

His head and his heart hurting once again.  

[kvndeathmusic]

THE BEST RECORDS OF THE 2010S PT 2 (THE TOP 10!!!!!!)

if you thought the last post was long, you just wait. ive also decided to actually number this list, but pls keep in mind my opinions change often and drastically so dont think anything is set here.

please read my other post too if you want to know about the records i like a little less than the ones here as well as some honorable mentions

#10: Some Rap Songs  -  Earl Sweatshirt (2018) 

This record is a perfect fusion of rap and lofi hip hop. Nobody makes a beat like Earl, and this record is a perfect example. Earl uses his samples to create layered soundscapes of distorted vocals and sounds, paired with his emotionally blunt flows. It’s short, but it really doesn’t feel that short, and frankly I could re-listen to it a handful of times in a row and probably not care that much. Not to sound like Todd Howard, but it just works dude. 

#9:  ゼロコンマ、色とりどりの世界   -  Mass of the Fermenting Dregs (2010)

According to Google, this record’s title translates to Zero Comma, Multicolored World. Which is interesting. I wish I knew Japanese just to understand this kind of stuff to be honest. But that’s besides the point.

Zero Comma, Multicolored World is a fantastic collection of tracks from my personal favorite J-Rock band, Mass of the Fermenting Dregs. Like for context, I got into this band around the same time as I got into Nirvana. I spent the entire summer of 2016 crying to In Utero, playing Overwatch while listening to MF DOOM, and jamming to Mass of the Fermenting Dregs. I managed to find a copy of their fantastic self-titled EP when I was in Tokyo a few years back. Anyways I’ve gotten off track. 

This record is a breathe of fresh air for those tired of American “alt-rock”, incorporating elements of shoegaze, post-hardcore, pop, and more to create a totally unique and explosive record. Every member of this band is playing out of their minds on some of these tracks, and lead singer/bassist Natsuko Miyamoto’s vocals are powerful and blend so well with everything else this record offers. At this point in most paragraphs I’d gush about some specific tracks but I don’t have a Japanese keyboard to write the track titles and I’m lazy, so just trust me and go listen to this record, their self-titled EP, the reunion record No New World from 2018, and their EP World is Yours if anything I’ve said interests you. 

#8: Fetch  -  Melt-Banana (2013)

This record melts my fucking brain dude. Melt-Banana is some of the most eccentric and weird music I’ve ever heard, blending noise, punk, and just plain absurdity to create music that I want to simultaneously describe as cursed and blessed. From the wailing walls of pure volume coming from the guitars to the sporatic and often manic vocals, this record sounds like no other I’ve ever heard. My personal favorite tracks are Hive, Candy Gun, Zero, and Schemes of the Tails. Seriously, if this sounds interesting to you, set aside 32 minutes to just appreciate this record. It’ll be worth your time. 

#7: Joy as an Act of Resistance - IDLES (2018)

On Joy as an Act of Resistance, British band IDLES offers up some of the best punk of the decade in a package that is full of hope, anger, and love. From singer Joe Talbot’s cries for unity in tracks like Danny Nedelko and Great, to self love anthems like Television and I’m Scum, Joy offers an alternative to their much angrier and sad 2017 debut record Brutalism, which I now realize I forgot to include on my fucking honorable mentions god damn it. Anyways, this record isn’t all sweet. IDLES tackles some heavier topics on this record as well, with songs like Samaritans dismantling toxic masculinity, Rottweiler tearing into sensationalist news and media, and the introspective June seeing Joe speak bluntly about his experience being the father of a stillborn. It’s also some of the unique punk out there at the moment, with jangly guitar “riffs”, Joe’s accent heavy shouts, and noisey drums. IDLES is definitely a band to pay attention to going into the 20s. 

#6: Adults!!!... Smart!!! Shithammered!!! And Excited By Nothing!!!!!  -  Bomb the Music Industry (2010)

Adults!!! is short, coming in at 21 minutes over the course of 7 tracks. And yet, this EP contains some of the catchiest and refined ska punk of the decade. The record acts almost as a condensed summation of BTMI’s entire career, featuring some of the repeated themes that has defined Jeff’s whole discography. Not only that, but some of BTMI’s best tracks are on this EP, from Jeff’s strained vocals on You Still Believe in Me?, to the peppy and depressing Planning My Death, to the defiant Slumlord and the explosive penultimate track, The First Time I Met Sanawon. I could wish it was longer, but I’ll be honest, with the quality of tracks here, I don’t care. It’s a near flawless EP that represents everything I love about one of my favorite bands ever.

#5: The Money Store - Death Grips (2012)

Like Fetch, The Money Store is similarly mind melting in completely different ways. This record is brutal. MC Ride’s “vocals” are like no other, with some describing them as the shouts of a drugged up homeless man. Paired with ear bursting, stereo busting beats, and esoteric dark flows, the picture this record paints is one of filth and primal violence. And I love every minute of it. And despite the harsh nature of this record, some of these beats fucking slap. This record features some of the weirdest uses of sampling, like seriously who the fuck finds Arabic Nokia ringtones and thinks “yeah let’s sample these in like half the tracks on this record” and make it sound this good. And at times I have no clue how they even managed to make some of the sounds they did. All of this is backed with Zack Hill’s extremely technical and wild drumming. I contemplated putting other Death Grips records in this spot, but The Money Store is the complete DG package. It also has Hacker on it. im in your area 

#4: Teens of Denial  -  Car Seat Headrest (2016)

I’m a fucking moron and I’ll tell you why. When I initially heard the first few tracks from this record when I was 17, I wasn’t that blown away. Like, I added Fill in the Blank, Vincent, and Destroyed by Hippie Powers to my big ass shuffle playlist and didn’t bother digging much deeper. Here I am now, 20 years old, kicking myself in the ASS for overlooking Car Seat Headrest for this long. I only gave this album a proper listen to back in January! And I LOVE it! Teens of Denial is a fantastic record, full of complex, multilayered tracks that are not only incredibly catchy, but full of heart and passion. Lead singer and songwriter Will Toledo has voice that sounds equally uneasy and leaking with confidence, and that confidence spills over into every aspect of this record. While not as emotionally intense as their only other studio LP as of February 2020, Teens of Denial is just track after track of some of the greatest indie rock made this decade. Including the songs I mentioned before, you’ve also got Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales, 1937 State Park, and the powerful Cosmic Hero. And if you like reading, the narrative of this record is interesting to follow.  And while I was working on this list they literally just announced a new record so like I’m fucking hyped dude. 

#3: To Pimp a Butterfly - Kendrick Lamar (2015)

Ok. Look. I know everybody is putting this at their #1 spot. And they probably have even more to say about this record than I do. There’s probably nothing I can say that hasn’t been said a million times by literally everyone. But that’s just a testament to the quality of this record. This is one of the greatest hip hop records ever made, if not the best depending on who you ask. Some of my favorite rap songs are on this record, Wesley’s Theory, King Kunta, Alright, The Blacker The Berry, and more. TPAB offers detailed glimpses into one of the biggest rappers in the world’s psyche and pain, mixed with profound social and political messages. The beats on this record are beautifully mixed with jazz and gospel influences, starting a trend many artists have since continued. And Kendrick’s signature flow from gkmc are at their absolute finest on TPAB. There is something to enjoy out of this record no matter your background, which would explain this record’s near universal appeal. To Pimp a Butterfly is just full of life, energy, and passion. It’s weird to think this record is only 5 years old, because it feels just as powerful as it did when it came out.

#2: Twin Fantasy - Car Seat Headrest (2018)

Twin Fantasy is a rare kind of record. The emotions expressed on this record are intense and laid flat out for you to hear, dissect, and empathize with. The entire record being structured around the idea of reflection works both as a fun way to organize a diverse and varied track listing, while also playing into a handful of the record’s motifs and themes. Speaking of which, each song on this album has a unique identity, both in terms of sound and feeling, and how it plays into the larger narrative of this record. Some songs have multiple tonal shifts, such as the epic Beach Life-In-Death, split into three distinct parts making it a song that, despite its 13 minute run-time, is a song I never grow tired of listening to. What each track shares, however, is the same fantastic songwriting, with layered instrumentals and some of Will’s greatest vocal performances. It also helps that all the tracks are just flat out catchy, like the fantastic Bodies, the chill Sober to Death, and the energetic Nervous Young Inhumans. While the 2011 original is great, the 2018 rerecording adds so much new complexity and clarity to this record. In addition to the original themes, the 2018 version adds new perspectives and meta commentary to the 2011 original, with Will reflecting on the feelings he was experiences at the time he wrote the original record, 7 years afterwards, adding an additional layer to this record’s larger narrative. The final 22 minutes of this record provides a strong emotional climax to the record, sending off a fantastic and absolutely classic record. There’s a good chance that, in 10 more years or so, I may look back at this record and put it above my #1 record. Hell, while I write this I really question whether or not I should do it. What I’m trying to say is, take that #2 with a grain of salt, because I love this record just as much as my #1 at this point. No record has managed to leave such a profound and strong impression on me this quickly after my first listen a few months ago, besides Twin Fantasy. Because Twin Fantasy is a rare kind of record. It’s a perfect record.  And now it’s time for my favorite record of the decade. It’s probably obvious what it is considering some of the things I’ve said on this list, so without any more delay...

#1: WORRY.  -  Jeff Rosenstock (2016)

WORRY. is my personal favorite record of the decade and of all time. It is an absolutely triumphant record. Every song here is a classic. WORRY. radiates pure, unfiltered energy that I haven’t been able to shake for the nearly 4 years this record has been out. Songs like Festival Song and Wave Goodnight to Me still get me pumped, and the so called “WORRY. medley” that spans the back half of this record rivals the medley of Abbey Road. And the opening track, We Begged 2 Explode, fuck man it’s a hell of an opener. Hell, I know every line spoken on this record. This record is a product of a man who has spent over 20 years perfecting his music, never compromising to trends or demands. Jeff has always been open about what he loves and what he believes in, and it’s no more apparent than on this record. Trying to describe every way in which this record works for me leaves me grasping for the right words to describe the feeling. It’s a record that makes you wanna chant along to it, move your body to it, and tell everyone you love about it.  So just listen to it. I don’t care if you don’t like punk, or ska, or ska punk, or just garage/indie rock in general, or if my enthusiasm hasn’t sold you. This is one of the best records out there and you can either realize it now, or regret it later. 

I know the record literally says that the perfect sound doesn’t exist. But it does. And it sounds like this.

And that’s it for this list. I’m excited to see what the new decade brings. If my mind ever changes about these records, or I get around to listening to a record that deserves to be on this list, maybe I’ll do an updated version, but like right now? This is how I feel.

[4d2019scott]

Embodiment, memory and perception.

Upon first experiencing the immediacy and surrounds of the ‘Sydney College Of The Arts’, (SCA) there was a sense of otherness, intrigue, sadness and sense that the place was haunted by trapped tortured souls. A perception that is possibly reserved for visiting places of historical abandedness rather than an art school. The senses were combined along with preconceived ideas recollected from documentaries and movies as to what may have transpired within the confines of the grounds during the time as an asylum.

Within the main grounds of the functional art school the immediacy of recent lived embodied experiences of the derelict wards contaminated the feeling of the present. There was an absorbed mismatch of architecture and an amalgamated cross fertility of eras attributed to the very nature of available materials, functionality and institutional associations. Questions arose as to why had it suddenly closed and left in such a state of disrepair when real estate prices have indeed skyrocketed?

This is the nature of a sense of place that incorporates “a functional unity between “low” level sensory-motor corporeal experiences and cognitive/perceptual processes”, as described by “The Arts Embodied Cognition Theory”.

The nature of materials and design re-enforced the preconceived awareness that it used to be an asylum.

“The Arts Embodied Cognition Theory proposes instead that a functional unity between “low” level sensory-motor and corporeal experiences and cognitive/perceptual processes exists; information processing can accordingly be influenced, modified, or entirely depends on body experiences (Jirak et al., 2010; Winkiel-man et al., 2015). [1]

This reinforces one’s own experience with the ‘SCA’.

In relation to the combined chosen media for the installation “Photography is not merely a cognitive transference of ideas but is a way “of seeing”. [2]

Essentially we view a particular place and location with influences shaped by our mind and body and our sense of place unites with cognitive memory, emotions, embodied memory and self reflexivity. Often contemplation forms part of our psyche as a result of an ongoing self-reflection based on recent and past experiences. Memory inevitably plays a key role alongside our constancy in sensing our environment and even within dreamlike states, sublimity, subconscious and unconscious forces influence the way we perceive the world and react to particular objects. Education may plays a role in object association or may purely be an instantaneous emotionality beyond what is rational, such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We may indeed travel back in time momentarily at least in the sense from within our minds and are transported even by the most simplest of objects or even specific colour(s). This may be either in a positive of negative continuum, depending on whether memory recall triggers traumatic events of a possible cyclical nature. By way of association, objects mean different things for each individual within the realm of subjectivity or indeed bliss that is triggered by objects of desire.

“Attention itself does not create any perceptions, but may be directed toward any aspect of a perceptual field. [3]

Video Installation

Essentially the 1 minute video was achieved with the use of a plastic spherical lens like focusing component from a miniature torch. This was strapped to the iPhone with electrical tape and manipulated the sound with ‘Premiere’, such as gain and playing around with a few settings. The sounds were of my voice making noises such as moaning and graoaning and the television as background noise. The first attempts failed and the sound was too distorted and blown out whilst working in the computer rooms. Eventually the right levels and decibels/distortion was achieved and gave a desirable sound effect. The initial sounds were achieved by my vocal chords and the background noise of the television and by using the slow motion feature on the iphone.

1 Zatti, A., & Zarbo, C. (2015). Embodied and exbodied mind in clinical psychology. A proposal for a psycho-social interpretation of mental disorders. Frontiers in Psychology, 6, 236. http://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00236

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4347298/

2 “But, if the photograph is more than a "mirror" in how

we interpret an image reflection of "our reality": what do we see when looking at a

portrait of ourselves?" Or, perhaps we should rather ask: "How do we

see?"—"What might the act of looking also be?" While our image is "caught",

what is it to be "captured"? [20]” (Photographic Portraits: Narrative and Memory. Brian Roberts. Volume 12, No. 2, Art. 6. May 2011)

3 http://www.angelfire.com/md2/timewarp/merleauponty.html

[mynameismichaelkern]

When A Tree Falls In The Woods...

There are two things that stuck with me upon completion of Night In The Woods - the first is that Mae, the protagonist, is not voiced. The second is that Garbo and Malloy, as well as Sharkle, characters that are as background as characters can get, have their own audio cues for talking. The comedy duo of Garbo and Malloy show up on the television, whether that’s at the train station, at the very beginning of the game, or while Mae watches television with her father. Sharkles exists solely as a companion buddy for Mae’s laptop - akin to Bonzi, of BonziBuddy fame. While this can simply be brushed aside as a budgetary consideration - it’s a dialogue-driven game and the sheer amount of voice-over work that would need to be done would get quite expensive - there are more interesting things to derive from these characters having vocal voices at all.

Garbo, Malloy, and Sharkle are all media. Their messages are clear but that is mostly because their messages gravitate towards the realms of vital and yet completely useless. Sharkle is the only character that speaks comprehendible words with a distorted “Hi!” and “Hello!” that would fit coming out of a state-fair mascot’s mouth. The two comedians take a page from the voice of adults in the Peanuts’ cartoon show, with  “wah-wah-waaaah”s taking the place of language.

It’s something to take note of because while there are gods, cultists, and the common folk, none of them get a voice. It is only these entities that exist outside of the town that get any consideration in this way. The thing is, they have nothing of importance to say. Garbo and Malloy make a joke of their lives and a fear of failure, but the laugh track underneath undercuts it as anything serious. Sharkle is something that appears within two instances - as a hallucination when the protagonist, Mae, is unconscious, and when clicked on in the computer interface. They ultimately have nothing to say but are the only characters with audible voices. The rest of the game is filled with characters with busy lives who are, literally, silent in their suffering.

Night In The Woods is set in a rust belt town and deals with Mae Borowski dropping out of college and returning home. There is the expectation that comes with homecoming stories that the protagonist returning to their home will find that they are the mature ones and that they have outgrown their former friends and family. Night In The Woods takes this  trope and instead shows a world wherein others have grown up, leaving behind the protagonist who has, in turn, left their old world behind. Economic instability, dead-end jobs, and forgotten and downtrodden workers are the common tale of Possum Springs, the setting of this game. By turning the trope around, and showing these workers as the ones who have matured and grown, it puts the spotlight back on them. With so many characters that share poetry, their plights, dreams - only characters who are not tangible and have nothing to say get to have voices. Despite the focus of the game being upon these people - the player is still someone who is outside of this community and can not hear them. They can only hear the media that surrounds Possum Springs.

Sharkle is insignificant. Their influence on the story is a comedic hallucination wherein they tell Mae to get up. When you click on them on the desktop interface, they make a funny sound. They contribute nothing but the voice is what makes them actually stand out. It’s a paradox - they demand attention because they have a voice, but there’s nothing of note or depth to derive from what they are saying. Instead, the only thing worth analyzing of them is why they do have voices. Sharkle embodies the buzz of the internet. It overpowers the voices within these towns. The internet is simultaneously a method to communicate externally, but the sheer size and breadth of it makes actual communication impossible.

Garbo & Malloy’s is the basic double act. One character plays the straight man to let the other play the comic. Their jokes deal with their own ratings, employment, and dealing with depression and self-image. It’s fairly basic stuff in the realm of comedy. It is the program that Mae is greeted by when entering the train station upon returning to Possum Springs - the initial action of the game. It is also what Mae and her father watch at the end of her nights. Their voices lack the principles of language, just devolving into rising and falling syllables. They almost have nothing to say, except that’s not entirely true. One of the things that stands out is the closing line of their act is directly related to the next major action in Night In The Woods. For example, there is an instance wherein Malloy says they will join a cult on the next segment. Soon after, Mae encounters the cult of Possum Springs. In another instance, the two proclaim they will be going to therapy and the next day, Mae’s mother sets up an appointment for Mae to go see a therapist. In this sense, they have a predictive power. It is a vague prediction, but a prediction nonetheless.

There is a certain predictive power to comedy. Fiction and literature all point to a future, even if they’re rooted in the past. Garbo & Malloy both have this power, but it’s ultimately not as powerful as one would expect. It simply signifies the event will happen - not how to prevent it, survive it, or point to a future after the event. It gets lost in the comedy, so the dire warnings become background noise. Garbo & Malloy’s best efforts are the equivalent of telling someone a train is coming when they’re stuck in the train track.

The voices are given to the useless. These characters have nothing of worth to give to the story, but can be heard. It represents the current state of affairs - TV and Internet dominate the consciousness. Night In The Woods is not casting aspersions upon either - it simply is stating that the more important and vital conversations happen locally. The voices that are amplified are highlighted because their message can be seen as broad enough to just dive into uselessness. Media as a whole, even Night In The Woods itself, can not solve the issues of Possum Springs. It comes from work and local effort.

[dustedmagazine]

Body Meπa — The Work Is Slow (Hausu Mountain)

Photos by Heidi DeRuiter, Ebru Yildiz, Kirk Edwards, Shervin Lainez

The Work Is Slow by Body Meπa

Body Meπa brings together New York musicians Sasha Frere-Jones and Grey McMurray on guitars, bassist Melvin Gibbs and drummer Greg Fox on an album that weaves together various strands of downtown experimentation into a tapestry that explores the avant-rock textures and improvisational dynamics for which the four are known. Frere-Jones is best known as co-founder of dub/funk influenced post-rock trio Ui, McMurray’s CV includes work with John Cale and Colin Stetson, Briggs has played with Defunkt, The Rollins Band and Sonny Sharrock, and Fox is a go-to drummer on the contemporary music scene. All of which is to say there are serious chops involved here and each shines individually leaving their egos at the door to create a series of soundscapes that encapsulate the spirit of the creative environment in which they are involved.

Opener "Horse Flower Storm/Fabuloso" sounds on the face of it like a repetitive lysergic jam, a kind of decelerated Television like extrapolation of surf rock under which Gibbs’ bass bubbles like a hot mud pool. Frere-Jones’ circular jazz influenced vamps and flanged twang carry the main theme as McMurray interpolates pointillist notes and smears of distortion that echo and emphasize. Fox provides both foundation and detail, his drumming relying on rhythmic subtlety rather than bombast. Body Meπa are all about finding a groove and exploring every nuance of its possibility, it’s all about feel rather than flash. Even when the riffage comes the quartet seek not to beat you about the head but get inside it. “Bullitt” evokes another erstwhile downtown mainstay in Bill Laswell and Fred Frith’s noise monster Massacre with squalls of feedback and nervous scratchy chords, Gibb’s dub core bass and Fox’s roiling percussion. It hits like a tsunami but somehow with a space to breathe, the mix separates the guitars, which ring distinct from right and left channels. On “Rice Tea” jazz chords ride a deep funk groove before building into a maelstrom of reverb and delay with the logic of free jazz rather than rockist hubris. 

As Body Meπa, Frere-Jones, McMurray, Gibbs and Fox use the structure of jazz, the space of dub, the circularity of minimalism and the repetition of trance to free up the classic rock guitar, guitar, bass, drums configuration. They are not the first to do it but the caliber of the musicians, individually and as a collective, the wealth of ideas and the generosity of the music make The Work Is Slow a compelling listen. 

Andrew Forell

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: Year Zero

The fifth studio album was released by the band in April 2007 by Interscope Records. This release would be produced by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross affectively beginning their long partnership leading to film soundtracks. This would represent the final record from Interscope as Reznor developed a long-standing dispute with the company related to overseas prices. Year Zero stands out as it represented a concept album meant to criticize the current policies of the United States government by presenting a bleak vision of the world in the year 2022. Reznor would incorporate other media into this very experimental album including a remix album, an alternative reality video game, and even a film or television adaptation that never materialized. The record eventually saw two singles, “Capital G” and “Survivalism.” In 2007, the singer talked about his vision for the album. “This record began as an experiment with noise on a laptop in a bus on tour somewhere. That sound led to a daydream about the end of the world. That daydream stuck with me and over time revealed itself to be much more...it takes place about fifteen years in the future. Things are not good. If you imagine a world where greed and power continue to run their likely course, you'll have an idea of the backdrop. The world has reached the breaking point – politically, spiritually and ecologically.”

Trent Reznor began writing the album in September 2006 while on tour to promote With Teeth. The limitations of working on an album many times while on a bus forced him to make the entire record from his laptop. "I didn't have guitars around because it was too much hassle ... It was another creative limitation ... If I were in my studio, I would have done things the way I normally do them. But not having the ability to do that forced me into trying some things that were fun to do." Lyrically, the singer wanted to move away from his previous internal approach and look at the pitfalls of living in the United States. More specifically, his main target represented the United States government and how it treats its citizens. Josh Homme would contribute vocals to a song that would be eventually cut from the finished album. In a twist of irony, Trent Reznor contributed vocals to the Queens of the Stone Age album Era Vulgaris, where that song would also make it on the cutting room floor.

As far as the music goes, Year Zero did have all the elements of a traditional Nine Inch Nails record including industrial, electronic, metal, and a new sound called digital hardcore. Yet, Reznor wanted to move completely away from sounding anything like the very rock-centric With Teeth. He would say a heavy influence on the release came in the early production by the Bomb Squad on Public Enemy records. He attempted to create a kind of sonic collage that reminded listeners of previous efforts specifically, The Downward Spiral and The Fragile. Rather than using other instruments as on With Teeth to fill the sound, Year Zero did so with effects created on the laptop like loud, distorted beeps for example. The ambient nature of the record contributed to the overall theme, which was a sense of bleakness, darkness, depression. Almost all of the tracks included a long instrumental at the end further strengthening comparisons to the 1999 album, The Fragile. The themes on the album were fairly obvious even on the first listen as Reznor criticized the policies of the United States government that he saw could quite possibly bring about the end of the world. The Nine Inch Nails front man specifically labeled it as the “erosions of our freedoms.” The fictional story that he created did technically begin in 2007 on the album, as well as the computer game. Yet, the singer referenced the attacks on 9/11, the Iraq war, and the 2004 election. These events cause a chain reaction leading to bioterrorism, nuclear war with Iran, and the end of all civil liberties for Americans by a fictional department called the Bureau of Morality. Upon the album's release, a small insert was included on every printed CD and vinyl that gave a phone number for the Bureau of Morality that you could call to report potential subversive citizens. For the fans brave enough to call, they received the following message. “By calling this number, you and your family are implicitly pleading guilty to the consumption of anti-American media and have been flagged as potential militants.” The Hartford Courant made this telling observation about Year Zero. “What's scary is that this doesn't seem as far-fetched as it should, given recent revelations about the FBI's abuse of the Patriot Act and the dissent-equals-disloyalty double-speak coming out of Washington in recent years."

Upon release, Year Zero would sell 187,000 copies in its first week reaching number two on the Billboard charts. The first single “Survivalism” would climb as high as 68 on the charts as well, while second single “Capital G” would peek at number six on the modern rock charts. As mentioned previously, Reznor after learning of high overseas prices for the album condemned Interscope Records publicly leading Nine Inch Nails to leave the label and go entirely independent for the next few years. Critics seemed a bit mixed about the album, but almost unanimously applauded the connection to an alternative reality video game coinciding with its release. Rob Sheffield of Rolling Stone called the record strange, but very complex. Robert Christgau liked the album saying it was the most songful in their entire catalog. Stylus Magazine said that the LPs vision of the future was to be phrased. Other reviews touched upon Reznor combining music and gaming creating a new way for popular music to remain culturally relevant. Joseph Jaffe of Brand Week would say a mysterious marketing campaign like Year Zero was desperately needed in the music industry. As for the mysterious part of that marketing effort, Nine Inch Nails did not stop with remix remix and video games. A year before the album's release, the group would leave USB drives with unreleased tracks for the upcoming record in live venues after each performance. The first single was also released in GarageBand format, so fans could freely remix the track. The video game would win two Webby awards for 42 Entertainment, the company that developed it.