#experiencing the 'fan of the older music' paradigm
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vulpinesaint · 2 years ago
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nothing but thieves will always be My band by virtue of nobody else i know ever listening to them except through me. that's My band. My everything. anyway who wants to listen to me be soooo frowny face over their new album
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idolizerp · 6 years ago
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LOADING INFORMATION ON IMPERIAL’S  MAIN RAP SON JIYONG...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Lyric writing
IDOL PROFILE
NICKNAME(S): N/A INSPIRATION: jiyong was inspired by the performances of idol-groups while he was still a songwriter for 99 entertainment. he realized he wanted to be on stage to entertain instead of working behind the scenes, and wished to be as accomplished as the talented artists who came before him.  SPECIAL TALENTS:
acrostic poems
freestyle rap 
impressions of some celebrities (style over tone)
NOTABLE FACTS:
jiyong’s older brother was a producer for a small company and introduced him to the idea of songwriting as a profession
he often carries a small notebook to write ideas in whether they’re general themes and concepts or lyrical phrases to later add to a song
since jiyong dislikes aegyo, his fans often buy him cute accessories during fan-meets to tease the idol
IDOL GOALS
SHORT-TERM GOALS:
his thoughts on imperial are always exchanged between feelings of pride and disappointment. he’s aware that he is riding on the back of this boy-group to gain solo success, and he doesn’t truly attempt to mask it. short term, he wants — no, needs imperial to continue to grow into an icon that can’t be so easily ignored by 99. then, he needs to set his solo musical career into action.
LONG-TERM GOALS:
jiyong’s presence in the idol industry is decorated with shifting fault lines, yet, regardless, it doesn’t halt his efforts in founding a strong career upon it. whether or not it is with imperial or alone, his focus is on constructing a stronger presence in the industry, one that is admired and constantly rewarded for fulfilling it’s expanding potential. he’s got his eyes set on developing his future musically with more to release, but also to grow into a household name through variety shows and other notable appearances. jiyong doesn’t see limits; he thinks his are endless in a greedy and aggressive outlook.
IDOL IMAGE
ABSTRACTION.
he’s an eccentric paradigm.
jiyong is full of a youthful gleam, charming and saccharine but also wickedly sinful. it’s a dichotomy between two opposing characteristics that somehow suits his boyish image. the way hard-hitting raps spill from his mouth to the timings of his cheesy winks that arouse excitement from the crowd. 99 entertainment composes him in a way that’s unforgettable. they want him to shine enough to burn the mirage of his beaming, playful grins, and his half-lidded sultry stares into the minds of those who take a glance at imperial. just enough to keep them hooked onto the taste, yet never completely fulfilled by the portion; their affair with the rapper further evolving into a heated addiction. his image is one of a tease, someone who stands out in a way that brings the audience crawling back for more.
loud laughter and charming habits are part of this persona that helps him appeal to younger fans who see their high school crush in his mannerisms, but also the older adults reminiscing their passing youth. with his aggression stifled to appear as power instead; his obsessive drive conducted into the disposition of passion, he’s just a reckless romantic making love through the design of various lyrics and slanted stares. jiyong can just as easily be the mischievously, enticing performer as he can the boy-next-door. the pattern of inky designs sprawled on his skin serving as a suitable accessory to his bright smiles; something a little bolder to counteract all the sweetness. he could make anything seem okay.
people tend to gravitate towards him, feeling as though they know him. he gives away just enough information to build those gentle connections and just enough distance that his conversations follow the likeness of a person who is wholesome and genuine. jiyong is a quick-witted, enigmatic performer who never runs out of things to say.
he is a desire, previewing the rare hints of thrill with the flash of a pearly smile, curved like a cocky promise, bright with the hues of a faux cheekiness. he’s got an approachable expression, one that is attentive, full of comfort, yet he’s also dressed as a risk — a temptation to indulge. like a sigh, a soft ache. jiyong induces sensations of anticipation and yearning that never see their end. it’s like falling in love, or falling in sin — none can tell. all that remains is a blur of cascading moments; glimmering in hues of an effervescent youth, and devilishly frisky smirks. they only see the side leaning beyond the curtain, one that dares them to inquire further with the promise to be cherished.
IDOL HISTORY
INCEPTION.
the design of trust is raw and vulnerable. their father constructs it impeccably, unveiling the directions and avenues it unwinds into, displaying the safety and ease of restraining yourself from its reaches. he basks in an asylum of silence; physically near, yet thoughts and emotions cast off into the distance. convenience is the method he employs in raising his children. a laid-back stance — hardly present. his role is vacant and memories with him are scarce. even under the chill of seoul’s winters, they’re more occupied with themselves than they are with each other. life is about selfishness; taking what your greed desires, and their life flourishes under that insistent mantra.
they find their father in intervals; bits of hope and passion stitched together, smoking a cigarette in the suffocating space of his recording studio. it’s an obsessive hobby, truly. his business hasn’t been profitable for years, yet he remains bound to it, like a religion, bringing his children into its worship.
it’s where the essence of jiyong is forged; a fixation with words contrived. his formative development is guided by puffs of smoke, and a heavy, exhausted voice. a focus is spent on poetry, on lyrics, and on the weight of certain words: how to say more than enough with much too little. two children grow up attuned to the sense of music in its complex existence and lonely absence. it’s something they experience often, but never well enough.  
METAMORPHOSIS.
the world runs on ecstasy. it’s a drugged up organization that passes their days as seconds and he’s dragged by its pull, never able to find his footing or keep up with the pace. jiyong is seventeen, in his last year of formal education, and not worthy of the demand of mundane society. he’s got nowhere to go.
that’s meant to change, however. his brother is a producer working for a small company, and upon noticing the riches of potential in jiyong’s prisoning hobby, he suggests an idea that shifts the younger boy’s uncertain future into a ravaging interest. there’s a chance that jiyong’s affinity for lyrics and poetry can land him a job in the field they know too well. it’d be a prosperous chance to indulge the full expanse of his musical ambitions — thought it can hardly be called that. for him, it’s an evolving obsession, a habit too hard to quit. it’s all he genuinely understands and acknowledges; drowning between the arrangement and beauty of words. phrases chase jiyong in the dark, they cling to his mind until he’s a puppet of their sinister reign, forced to fulfill their ultimatum. his grades can’t compete, so they don’t.
his search ends when a company responds to his application at last. 99 entertainment greets him with security, and then it begins. his youth is malformed, direction disjointed, but they can fix that. they can guide the rush of words that litter his pages and plague his mind. they turn shrapnel of ideas and mold them into solid concepts. jiyong slowly discovers his footing as a proper songwriter there, yet the words he writes next taste bitter.
they don’t feel like him, and it’s been hard to tell that for a while. perhaps it’s because he was never meant to turn his hobby into a profession or perhaps it’s because of the new environment that demands socializing skills. he’s always known isolation. for him, solidarity comes with no risks. working alone is the only way to ensure the mistakes made are exclusively his, but there are other plans 99 has devised which he can’t foresee yet.
he wonders what more he can be, and those curiosities are answered with a startling opportunity; a tempting consequence stemmed from his rap recordings of several guide tracks. it seems as if his company has always held different plans than jiyong had intended, because, after only three months, he’s encouraged to join a line-up of competitive, experienced trainees, thirsting for a chance he hadn’t originally fathomed. there’s a rising tide on the horizon. jiyong has always worked to better elevate his career, and with his agreement of their decision, imperial appears somewhere along the swell of that wave as a glimmering chance for his greedy heart to chase.
COMPLEX.
there’s resentment. he feels it creeping along his spine when he is introduced as another trainee the rest must beat. it digs inwards, sitting in his lungs; an inherent phantom swallowing the air he attempts to breathe. jiyong isn’t accustomed to the company of scrutiny or the stare of spectators picking him apart for the skills in which he lacks. in their eyes, he was unfairly picked with ease while they were vetted through auditions and harsh evaluations. jiyong is the unworthy contender and it makes his blood boil in a manner he hasn’t expressed before. a sort of annoyed rage that only motivates him to work harder to genuinely become the threat they’ve assumed of him. intense hatred is an aggressive manner that seeps into his persona and it doesn’t let go.
there’s anxiety. he feels it in every step as his muscles are molded into the rhythm of dance, his voice ringing until sore and identity falling apart by its threadbare edges. jiyong isn’t a fan of surprises, and the survival show comes as one that is terrifying and daunting in style. the fact that the already ruthless competition will only grow harder has him drowning in a turmoil of nervousness. he’s uncertain in knowing if he desires this, but then again, he doesn’t understand passion like others, only dismissing doubts and uncertainties as hindrances attempting to weaken his resolve. as long as jiyong knows what he wants, passion and yearning are not an issue. he will take what he believes is his, another step upwards in his obsessive progress towards success and a fulfilling career.
by the time the results are announced and the final decisions made, the nineteen-year-old is an exhausted carcass that practices for things he doesn’t honestly desire. he’s technically won, but he doesn’t feel like a winner with his identity shaped into a youth born of sarcasm and a hungry appetite for competition. the demands of management and the expectations of the public build him into developing tendencies he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s part of the transition. investing bits and pieces of originality, sacrificing time and habits, all for the hope of a greater return and a rewarding reception. not all of it is manufactured or catered for a false presentation, but it’s fake enough to have his teeth grit and his gaze slant.
he trains as the final installment to a boy-group; the unanticipated intruder; a thief that robbed others of their chance. in the archaic judgment of a man, he’d be one becoming; boy made machination, boy torn up into a prophetic villain. theirs to own, theirs to control, but jiyong is too insane to succumb to their discrimination. their loss isn’t of his concern. however, the public differs largely from the trainees who’d exchanged bitter verdicts behind his back. they say it to his face, and he can’t conceal himself into the background. the idol definition printed him physically before an audience, and not just metaphorically as he’d intended. jiyong may not be of others to possess and command, but he is also not his own. that fact begins to gnaw on him. the lack of control, the weight of unity and collective burden of individual mistakes — all wear him down faster than the criticisms.
there’s a mass that is dragged by idols; a lie of perfection to be repeatedly told for the sake of consistency. he doesn’t understand the need to be so loyal to it, but they’re all hostage to the group and lifestyle regardless, no escape once they’ve been born to the world for its entertainment.
APOTHEOSIS.
when his brother passes in a car accident, late into the following year, the worst is brought forth in jiyong. self-destruction becomes his clingiest companion, and while he’s been its prized subject for years, it grows tenfold until he’s a vacant vessel with only misery as cargo. jiyong barely knew him, he realizes. he was someone who spoke too much, yet his words never crossed the distance between them to reach jiyong. he wasn’t as good with them as their father. he was more similar to their mother instead, saying too much in attempts to compensate the trembling discordance in the air, filling it with more insecurity than draining it of the crippling tension hanging in the walls of their paper home.
jiyong tortures himself with the details of the death. he’s always been a subject of obsession, so he drowns in this too, forging guilt where there should exist none, clinging to a stick of sadness that rests heavy in his lungs. it’s no surprise that among his other habits, he falls into rhythm with melancholia as well. for a brief moment, he feels regret in his choices.
glancing over, he spots his mother. she looks to be near destroyed by the weight of loss. it’s unfair. she was always unhappy. taking on the role of a parent who only loved work and made up for her absence with too many incoherent and drunken stories. normalcy was a curse for someone like her. the darkness haunting their home both ruining yet sustaining the desperate creature nestled within the confines of her skin. she wanted to be something, he knew that, but her mind was poisoned by the same amber hues she drank into midnight. her body only occupied with scars of a world that meant to maul her. he used to catch glimpses of her sometimes. there was dialogue whenever she looked over, a gleam of rare interest, but jiyong doesn’t remember it. that was too long ago.
when a sob trembles from her lips jiyong holds onto her. he does so tightly, fingers gripping her arms, trying to cling onto something, but she’s as lost as he is, and he doesn’t find anything secure to grasp onto.
jiyong feels directionless. the man that lead him here is no more, and the future that’d once seemed vast, despite its various flaws, now hangs uncertain once again with the departure of a member. nothing makes much sense and he retreats further inwards, choosing what’s convenient, liberating himself from the expenses of trust by binding himself to shackles of isolation and committing to nothing but his sole interests. he insists on carrying his burdens and sorrow alone, confined to the walls of work as he tears into melodies, adding more to his schedule. the routine stings, but in a manner that hurts just right, reminding him of his intentions and keeping his head inches above a river of defeat.
HAMARTIA.
selfishness is what keeps people alive. jiyong reminds himself that as he paves a future solely for himself. he’s still filled to the brim with feelings of melancholy and hints of guilt. they never leave. it seems that everything he comes into contact with has a way of sticking around, including the delusional fans that worship his name and the same three faces littering the dorm. as time passes and the routine of their dazzling life dulls into a mundane chore, he relies on his drive to keep him awake throughout their idol reign, planning out one goal after the next to conquer. it’s tyrannical how he works, never sated, never fulfilled, sights always settled on something more; greedy and obsessive, his tragic flaws fuelling his future successes.
jiyong’s only been getting smarter, wielding his act in a manner to impress, in an attempt to get closer to attaining the things he wants. a charming and clean public presence makes him a reputable celebrity to host certain shows. his background in songwriting and his skill in rap are great in assisting his focus for a solo. he’s resourceful, aware of what connections to keep and which to discard.
for him, an empty mind is a devil’s cavern so jiyong fills his thoughts with tasks to fulfill, never allowing himself to indulge in a break. it’s too risky that way. he can’t focus on unraveling what he doesn’t understand about himself when it’s a nuisance to his progress. his personality is distorted between what is and isn’t authentic, it can’t be pinpointed which parts of him are genuine and which were constructed for him years ago. the dilemma of a blurring dichotomy is what could boil under the surface of his gleaming smile if he gave into that confusion, but jiyong resists. he isn’t bothered to discover those facts. maybe he’s never known who he is, maybe it’s something he’s yet to find out or something he lost long ago. however, upholding his charming facade is what’s currently convenient, so he folds into it and continues to proceed, whether it’s with imperial or not.
he’s only twenty-four, but his ending was destined long before. he’ll end up the same as he was when it all started; buried in a potter’s field with all his pennies spent.
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songs-from-mount-chorus · 7 years ago
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1) “Every New Day” - Five Iron Frenzy
If you’ve known me for any length of time and it’s a surprise to you that Five Iron Frenzy nabbed the top spot on this list - hi, I’m Cory, have we met?
In all seriousness, there is no possible way that you can take even a cursory pass at my musical tastes and not see the profound impact that the Frenzy had (and continues to have) on my music, my personality, and my general outlook on life. They claimed a lot of my “firsts,” musically-speaking: first album I bought with my own money (Five Iron Frenzy 2: Electric Boogaloo), first album I asked a store to special-order for me (Upbeats and Beatdowns), first band that I would call my “favorite band,” etc. They also reside at about the perfect intersection of a number of facets of my personality: my Christian upbringing, my love of ska, my appreciation of the proper blending of the serious with the comedic, my teenage-self’s unbridled - to paraphrase G.K. Chesterton - “love of justice.” On personal, social, musical, and many other levels, I feel fairly certain that I was fated to be a fan of FIF.
Now, with all of that said, I’ve been struggling for a bit to figure out exactly what I want to say about “Every New Day.” Five years ago, I could have told you exactly why I chose this song. I mean, I can still tell you why I chose it; this song held a very specific place in my heart for a rather significant portion of my life, and I know exactly why I chose it at the time as Song #1. When I said before I started the final 10 tracks that I was not the man I was when I compiled this list, I knew in the back of my mind that I was truly going to have to confront that when I got to this song. I did promise that I would attempt to be faithful to the spirit of the list, and that is what I intend to do. To that end, “Every New Day.”
For most of my conscious, memorable life, I have struggled with my faith. There are any number of reasons for this, but I predominantly blame my association with that oldest of heathen institutions, the theater. Once I’d gotten a good behind-the-scenes look at what went into putting on a stage play, I couldn’t help but notice how many aspects of a traditional church service are largely presentational (dare I say, theatrical?). Like, distractingly so. I mean, ascribe religious significance to it all you want, once you’ve had the paradigm shift, it’s hard not to see the set pieces, costumes, and props that make up any given traditional service. [Side note: do not even get me started on the rock show that most “contemporary” services have become. Not the music - I have no immediate grievance with the use of modern music in worship. What irks me are the lights and the speakers and the cameras and the projection equipment and etc. etc. etc. I’ve been to churches that had a nicer set-up than the theater I work for.]
I’ve gotten off-track. Where I was going with all this was that this skepticism was somewhat disheartening to me. While I may have had misgivings about the trappings of the Church, I still wanted to believe in the Faith. I was experienced enough by this point in my life to know that just because you have a bad teacher, doesn’t mean the subject matter is inherently invalid. Everyone else in my family seemed to feel this intimate connection, and the fact that I didn’t always ate at me. So, for me “Every New Day” was the closest I ever got to meaning a prayer. I wanted that child-like innocence, that unshakable belief. I won’t say it never came, but it was never something I could hold onto.
When I was younger, I think a part of me turned to Five Iron Frenzy because they seemed so sure that they had it all figured out. When they came back after their break-up and dropped Engine of a Million Plots a few years ago, it was almost something of a relief to the sadder, older, wiser me to realize that they were winging it just as much as the rest of us. If I were to pick a song of theirs to reflect my religious state these days, it would be “Blizzards and Bygones,“ but if I were today to pick the FIF song for this list, it would be “We Own the Skies,” because holy shit, I was living that life when that album came out.
My apologies for the novella. As always, enjoy.
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