#experiment time: how fucked is our economy rn

[brother-genitivi]

buying gifts for friends <3 let's see if 400 liras is gonna be enough

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

[purplesurveys]

719

When you are in the shower, what do you normally do first: Make sure I’m completely doused with water. I don’t like having dry spots when I put on shampoo or body wash. Do you have a fear, even only a slight fear of insects: I hate cockroaches and have a fear of getting stabbed by anything anywhere on my body. Which shoes out of the shoes you have, do you wear most often: My Onitsuka Tiger sneakers for sure. Do you paint your nails? If so, what is the usual colour or colours: Thanks for asking first, because no I don’t. Do you have a favourite poem you like and can recall. If so, what is it: I don’t have my own favorite but Gab has always loved this one poem by Elizabeth Bishop, even memorized it at one point, and she wrote the whole piece down on one of my old planners and explained it for me, which led me to like the poem as well. It’s titled One Art. Do you find yourself even the least bit creative: No. That and being a flirt are the last words I’d use to describe myself.

Have you ever resided in a home that was haunted: No.  If so, tell me of your experience please. If not, do you believe in ghosts: Not the houses I’ve lived in but both the schools I’ve attended have track records for being haunted, but I don’t feel like sharing the ghost stories I know of rn because it’s 1:56 AM lol. I like believing in ghosts, but I’m not obsessively adamant about their existence. What is the worst memory you can think of: Various traumatic experiences from childhood. Do you have any close friends who you feel do not understand you: Sure. I don’t really open up to close friends; I only save that for my best friends. That said, my close friends won’t know what I need sometimes. Best example I can give is when I rant to Andrew for the sole reason of needing someone to vent to, he’ll sometimes reassure me even though I’m not looking for reassurance. I appreciate his efforts of course, but sometimes I’ll just find myself taken aback by the words of affirmation I didn’t explicitly ask for haha. Do you like to use abbreviations or not: Only if it’s necessary or when I’m too lazy to type. Do you ever play any MMORPGS: No. Where was the last place outside your home of course, that you've been to: :((((((((((((((( This is SUCH A SAD QUESTION NOW :’( I went to visit my grandpa’s spot at our local columbarium last month. Did you enjoy going to this place or was it not so great: I always feel peaceful visiting my lolo. Do you like Disney: Walt Disney was a shit leader which will sometimes ruin my viewing experience of Disney movies lol. But yeah I do like a number of their movies. If so, what is your favourite Disney movie: Toy Story. What is the most creative thing that you do: Coloring and painting. Do you ever think of bettering your talent or do you not need to: I always want to improve in everything I do, not just my skills. Do you like to write in cursive or just plain text: Just plain text, but I regularly practice my alma mater’s unique cursive so that I don’t get rusty at it. At the mall do you get free samples even if you don't know what it is: No, cause then I kinda feel guilty that I don’t buy the product haha. I love when they give out free samples at Starbucks though. Do you know how to restore your hard drive on your computer: Nopes. Do you like any animes: No. What is your favourite movie of all time: Two for the Road. Might fuck around and watch the movie after this survey.

What do you mostly daydream about: The future, mostly. I like thinking about having kids, buying my own house, having a big wedding, etc. I know the economy is shit and the future is doomed, but let me live in my fantasy life dammit. When was the last time you got angry, and why did you get angry: I felt like a relative invalidated my anger on a Facebook post I shared last night and it pissed me off for a few minutes. What is the worst movie you've ever seen in your life altogether: Paris When It Sizzles was a bit of a mess; it’s the only Audrey Hepburn movie I only watched once and never cared to repeat. I’m also biased against Knives Out as I hate whodunnits lol. What is something you would NEVER eat even though some people do eat it: Cats, dogs, and now probably whatever kind of bats they have in China. Do you have any favourite artists: Like singers? I really admire Hayley Williams. Do you like Tim Burton and his work: I respect his work but it’s personally not really my style, so I tend to skip out on his films. Who is your favourite director: Stanley Kubrick. Hard to completely vouch for him because of the whole Shelley Duvall bit, but for real though I love his films and I’d be totally lying to myself if I answered with a different director. Who has influenced your life the most out of family members: My dad. Which celebrity or famous person had influenced your life tremendously: CM Punk. Most of his worldviews (not believing in regrets, luck is for losers, you don’t have to be blood to be family, etc) influenced me as a teenager and are mindsets I continue to carry with me to this day. What place do you want to visit the most: Morocco or Turkey. What is your favourite band: Paramore. What song will you never grow tired of by this band: Misguided Ghosts. What is your most favourite colour of all time: Black. What is the best toy you had as a child: I don’t really know what to call it but I LOVE that one Play-Doh boxed set that let you spew out different shapes; it was pretty fucking bomb. This is what it looks like:

Out of the toys now, which do you wish they had back when you were a child: Kinetic sand. But I don’t feel like I completely missed out cause the pre-2010s kids had actual sandboxes anyway. What is the oddest thing that's happened to you: There is at least one weird thing that happens to me everyday... I don’t really keep track of them either. Have you ever been chased by a wild animal: Yeah, by a flightless bird in a safari. If so, what happened: It saw that I was trying to take a photo of it, so it must’ve been threatened by my camera or the stance I was in so it charged towards me and started aggressivelypecking my foot. I was 12, I didn’t know any better. Who do you miss the most: Nacho.

[doomedandstoned]

Oakland Doomy Bluesers Phantom Hound Roar ‘Cross The ‘Mountain Pass’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Molly Stetson & Heather Hughes

I live not far from the railroad and there's something very comforting about hearing a train roll in. It's appropriate that the might and roar of that metallic convoy be responsible for opening the new record from PHANTOM HOUND.

We met them some years back, when the Oakland doom and power blues trio dropped, 'Phantom Hound' (2016), their debut EP. Now Jake Navarra (guitar, vox), Stephen Rogers (bass guitar), and Jack Stiles (drums) are back with a full-length: 'Mountain Pass' (2020). The new spin showcases a sound that's genuinely enticing, much like Guns 'n' Roses' Appetite For Destruction was when I first heard it at age 12 (the first cassette I had to buy clandestinely from my parents).

The riffmaking, from leads to solos, is strong with Mountain Pass, driving each track forward like a mighty engine, from the rush of an opener "The Northern Face" to the grinding blueser "Thunder I Am," the chugging pistons of "Irons In The Fire," and the Matt Pike-like filigrees of "The Southern Face."

Jake's powerful pipes fall somewhere in between Chris Cornell's soaring medium range, the raspy grit of Finnish vocalist Olli Suurmunne (Kaiser, Altar of Betelgeuze), and the commanding force of Australia's Chris Fisher (Field, Lamassu).

You ain't gonna bring me down You ain't gonna bleed me out You ain't gonna kill me now You ain't gonna snuff me out

In fact, if you liked Kaiser's '1st Sound' (2018), this would make a very nice companion.

A pleasant acoustic interlude, "Grace of an Angel" gives us a rest stop from the treacherous uphill journey, leading to the album's expansive namesake track and a very overcast second-half. "Devil Blues" is quite effective in conjuring the rough terrain of the California mountains and the sense of aloneness one feels when traveling deep into the wild.

Steady return into the dark Dealing again my hand the card A whisper, a spark, and a flame Has bitten me again Killing me again the same

We've now travelled from "The Northern Face" to meet "The Southern Face," the Mountain Pass closer. It's a doomy one for sure, though the intrepid tempo gives the sense of determination that this journey will be finished.

"Overall this record is about survival and living for every moment," the band told Doomed & Stoned. "A gritty reflection on what is required to actually live your life rather than be a slave to it."

And now, Doomed & Stoned is pleased to bring you the premiere of Mountain Pass by Phantom Hound, ahead of its wide release on Saturday, March 28th (pre-order here).

Give ear...

Mountain Pass by Phantom Hound

Track By Track: A Listener's Guide to Mountain Pass

We asked the guys to give us a walk-through of each number on Phantom Hound's new album. We got more than we expected and are delighted to share this in-depth breakdown with you from frontman Jake Navarra.

The Northern Face

This song started off early writing sessions for the record as a new riff when I bought a new Jazzmaster not long after that Rob Zombie show. The riff was written hours before my first audition in two years as something aggressive and impressive to take to them. The guys I jammed with didn't get the vision and we didn't click in general so I put it in my back pocket. I brought it home and kept working on it though. My love of all things Alice in Chains carved this track out to serve as our "Them Bones" This main riff would later serve me again on a second song "The Southern Face" I used the main riff from "The Northern Face" as a bridge riff after the second chorus outro in "The Southern Face" but since the song is in B-Standard on the Baritone guitar its nearly unnoticeable. The songs became the beginning and the end of the record pretty early on. Lyrically the song serves as a cry of raw life. The idea being that, we are born into this world and its a fight to stay here. Climbing the northern face is a metaphor for the listener to be the train that has set off to see its railroad completed. (Drop D)

Thunder I Am

I grew up watching old westerns with my grandpa and my old man. There's nobody that doesn't relate to Clint Eastwood's characters and this songs a direct tip of the hat to the attitude portrayed in nearly all of his films. Thunder I Am is essentially that sense of justice that will always rain down. The song wrote itself when I first plugged this guitar into my Orange. Heavily inspired by Down and Soudgarden. (B Standard)

Irons in the Fire

This song directly reflects a love for Down & Pantera. Lyrically a direct reflection on how hard our members work on a daily basis and what it takes to make a band happen these days with all the different DIY elements band members have to juggle. We can never loose faith in ourselves or let the idea of a dream die out. We simply have to stoke the fire and keep it burning at all times. We put some southern style groove at the end of this song to pay homage to some dime style breakdown riffing. (B Standard)

You Don't Know Death

This song was written during The Ether era. How it survived is beyond me. It's tough, fast, and sharp as a dagger so maybe that helped. Lyrically a reflection on the overwhelming amount of death worship. I don't feel like a lot of bands really know what they're talking about sometimes but I was also much younger when I wrote it and far more angsty. I was craving diversity from metal at the time. I simply want life to be valued at its core. Perhaps the opposite of how it sounds I guess. (Drop C Standard)

Grace of an Angel

Throughout 2018 my step mother battled liver cirrhosis. She turned 67 on Dec 11th and passed away two days after Christmas on Dec 27th. She was in my life for 20 of my 30 years and was nothing short of an angel. She brought children into this world for over 30 years in the medical industry working as an RN for Kaiser Permanente. She never drank, smoked, or swore. She retired around the age of 64 and almost instantly got sick. She did her part for a transplant but was denied a liver through the waiting list. It was the single most painful experience of my life as I was there through the end holding her hand and looking after my old man as we all watched helplessly on the wayside. During her pain and suffering she never lost her integrity and showed more strength in her final hours than I think anybody could truly understand. People leave this world in many different ways but she did it as gracefully as only an angel could. I wrote this only weeks before the end. Steve is playing a Fender Rhodes and Jack added some light drums on it. I did more takes of this than any other track on the record. (Drop C)

Mountain Pass

This song started off during the years I walked away from music as the only thing I would play on my only instrument which was the acoustic that I kept. Occasionally I thought of a record that could capture the sound I always wanted to make combining heavy influences and trying to really make a grand opus. Something long and stoneresque calling on some Matt Pike meets Jerry Cantrell riffage. As the years went by and the idea for this record started to form it really honestly felt like we were struggling at every turn to see this record through. Life changes, career changes, the economy, the price of living, the music industry. Its been a struggle for many. This song is an anthem to all of the blue collar workers and dream of the builders putting one foot in front of the other to see their journey through. We have to set examples sometimes or nothing will change. (Drop C)

Devil Blues

This song is tip of the hat to The Blues. When I started playing guitar again I decided to play with a fire and make sure above all else that we were having fun in this band and having fun at our shows. Life is incredibly short and that's all there is to it. This song is about giving into The Blues and letting that feeling live inside you and remind you to stay out late, spend the extra money, go look at the stars, and jump into the ocean. (B Standard)

The Southern Face

The journey ends here. We've fought, we've struggled, we've survived the perilous journey of life and you're all the stronger and wiser for it. a reminder that you did it with your own two hands, your wit, and that not everybody made it. It's not a perfect story and it didn't work out well for everybody. We took losses and we made gains. And when you're done its time to reflect and count your blessings. This song is a steep descent into a smooth arrival back at the destination you set out to reach. This song wraps up the story entirely and leaves a sneak peak for what's to come. You can hear Steve's wizardry as his psychedelia morphs into a trance-like sense of closure and clarity until the train drops you off and carries on. (B Standard)

Wrong Turns & Second Chances: Interview with Phantom Hound

Every band has an origin story. Sometimes if you dig a little beyond the surface and get to know the musicians behind the music, their stories become surprisingly relatable. As Doomed & Stoned is all about both the music and the stories of the heavy underground, we were curious to know more about a lesser known band with a huge sound and grand ideas called Phantom Hound. We got the scoop from frontman Jake Navarra.

The Beginning

We formed in 2013 under the name Hound. Keith Hernandez (bass and engineer) and Dominic Torres (drums) did The Ether EP with me but not long after we recorded and started mixing I got into a motorcycle accident at the end of 2014 and decided to walk away from music altogether. I had been playing music for 10 years at this point and in part of the collapse of my previous band Cast Iron Crow and the continued struggle to keep a band going in general felt that my time as a musician was done. I fucked up my right shoulder and tore my ACL in the crash, had to get reconstructive surgery on my knee, and learn how to use my left leg all over again during recovery.

Because of this and the inability to play any instrument at all I sold off all of my gear except for my acoustic guitar in order to help pay my bills and for nearly two years never looked back. It was in summer of 2016 that I found myself with some free tickets for Rob Zombie. I took my older brother out to see him as we grew up listening to White Zombie and Rob Zombie from all the old Twisted Metal video games growing up. There was a brief moment when John 5 came out on stage at the beginning of House of 1000 Corpses.

The stage went dark and a spotlight came down upon him and he had this glow in the dark Telecaster with the TV screen in between the pickups while an old horror movie was playing on it and had the whole arena at his attention with that ominous riff. My brother elbowed me and said "You're telling me you don't wanna do that anymore? That doesn't look fun to you?" a light bulb went off that night and I called Kieth Hernandez a few days later to dust off The Ether mixes and we spent the fall dialing it in and finishing what we started. I ended up getting introduced to Oz Fritz who's worked with Les Claypool in the past and has some ties in the East Bay Area. I released it digitally that Christmas as a present to close friends and family.

The Rebirth

At the start of 2017, I wanted to really get back into playing again and struggled for some time to secure a lineup. I had two line ups of close friends help me get the ball rolling and things were off to a slow start for a while as we only had the EP material which was written on a Fender Jazzmaster. In the early months of 2017 I acquired a guitar that changed everything. The Hagstrom Viking Baritone. As soon as I plugged this guitar into my amp "Thunder I Am" was the first thing that came back out of it. "Devil Blues" was second and "The Southern Face" was the third. These three songs became the basis for what would become Mountain Pass and for a year-and-a-half my renewed interest in guitar and the blues pumped new life into the band. We played two shows this year and survived only by a slow pulse.

Paths Converge

It wasn't until I met Jack Stiles (drums) in March of 2018 through craigslist and that things got serious. He was the first person in 5 years that was as motivated as myself about the project and we set out to overhaul the band immediately. Jack (44) is a business owner of 10+ years, married, and a father of two little ones with more energy than most people my age (30). Jack has been a drummer for less than 5 years and a bass player of 20+. From sheer motivation he's answered the call and taken every challenge I've thrown his way. Jack strictly plays Ludwig classics and has shaped his playing around the hooks and rhythms these songs call for. A general love for all things music he's been one of the single most important musicians to ever share the stage with.

Through Jack we met Steve Rogers (bass) a few months later in June of 2018. Steve is a guy as casual as they come. (43) 100% Irish. Here's a guy who backpacked the John Muir trail in 8 days and shrugs his shoulders over his accomplishment when you bring it up. An established sound engineer with Dolby in San Francisco he's one of the friendliest people I've ever met. At the time he was pretty upset with his previous audition with some other band because they told him he didn't have the right image. Their loss, our gain. Steve's unwavering dedication to his bass tone filled a huge gap in our sound and with his Ampeg SVT and Music Man offers a brutal low end I didn't realize these songs couldn't benefit so much from. During the recording sessions Jack and I marveled at his ability to convey how these songs should expand with our engineer Chris Hughes. His sense of temp and atmosphere is responsible for all of the psychedelia and the keys hidden in 'Mountain Pass" and "Grace of an Angel."

Phantom Hound, Jake Navarra, and Mountain Pass

In late summer of 2018, the three of us went straight to work. At this time the name "Hound" had become convoluted and our music simply couldn't be found. After much deliberation and research we expanded the name to Phantom Hound. Symbolically this further represented the folklore surrounding the concept of why I chose "Hound" in the first place. Everything from Hell Hounds of the south capturing elements of The Blues, Black Shuck 's and Phantom Hounds of the UK and America to the mighty Cerberus going all the way back to Greek mythology. The Phantom Hound is essentially a guide/gatekeeper between worlds of the living and the spiritual underworld. We felt this helped us fully mature into our sound as were a bit of a mutt ourselves in the sense that we don't particularly fit in anywhere but get by everywhere so far.

As the main guitar player, vocalist, and songwriter it is my primary goal to try and compose records with expansive styles highlighting what the guitar can offer a listener. My own personal inspiration comes a lot from the classic rock I grew up on as a kid like so many, Seattle grunge, Mississippi and Chicago Blues, NOLA sludge, Italian and East Coast Jazz, Californian desert and stoner rock, and even the eclectic resurgence of all things metal in the local Oakland scene.

After rebuilding throughout the summer of 2018 on what had now become the 4th lineup of the band and the 1st lineup of Phantom Hound we came back up for air renewed and rebranded. We spent the winter of 2018/2019 performing, writing, shaping, and designing our brand. Our love for westerns, camping, backpacking, and history brought us to the Theme of "Mountain Pass," which is a loose concept record comparing one's personal journey through adulthood and all of the challenges one faces during those years to construction of the Transcontinental Railroad. In its essence: A perilous journey inward and mission for oneself to see through to its completion.

Producing Mountain Pass

2019 was the biggest year for us by far. We went into the studio with my friend Chris Hughes in May. About 10 years earlier I met him through an old friend back in college down in southern California. During that moment in time I was discovering Sleep's Jerusalem and was so stoked on Sleep I gave it to this transplant from Denver who wanted to get his hands on anything heavy and stoner metal related. Life went on and I didn't see him again for 10 years. During that time he continued to date and eventually marry an old friend of mine from High School and pursue audio engineering up here in the Bay Area at Expressions.

Somewhere along his journey, Chris got connected with the boys in the South Bay in KOOK and they hired him to produce their first album "Kook" and again their follow up "Kook II". This time however and the reason I mention this part of the story is that KOOK is well acquainted with Billy Anderson who came down from Oregon as the executive producer on the follow up record. Chris was able to shadow Billy in these sessions and learn and assist with much of the engineering on this record.

So after not seeing Chris or my old friend Heather we bumped into each other at Bevmo here downtown in Oakland to buy some beer. We instantly caught up having one hell of a laugh that after all these years the chance encounter we had over Sleep led him to working alongside Billy Anderson himself. With Chris fresh off the sessions of Kook II and Phantom Hound locked and loaded with Mountain Pass, everything lined up right and we went into the studio together at Airship Laboratories in Richmond, California and recorded nearly everything but the vocals in the same room Metallica recorded S&M and had a blast combining all our knowledge together and reconnecting as friends.

Chris Hughes took our record to extraordinary levels and our songs gave him a solid platform to apply his newly acquired skill sets on. We continued to perform all throughout the year with as many bands around town as possible as we built our relationships and earned a place here in town. In September of 2019 through Chris Hughes we were introduced to Jeff Wilson from Kook, Heavy San Jose, and Glory or Death Records and got on the bill for his annual Beers in Hell event. This was single handedly the most important gig of the year for us last year as we got to play with tons of killer bands and open for Hippie Death Cult, Kook, Disastroid, Holy Grove, and High Tone Son of a Bitch (which included Billy Anderson on Bass that night). We then played again with Hippie Death Cult in Pacifica a few weeks later and hit it off as friends.

Mastering Mountain Pass

After mixing was completed and our shows for September were wrapped up, we took off into Nevada City to reconnect with Oz Fritz at Ancient Wave Studios. This place is located down a long dirt road deep in the woods of Gold Country. A perfect relaxing place to kick back and watch the record come to life. Oz Fritz worked with me on The Ether EP. He's worked on Primus's Antipop, several Tom Waits records, and Miles Davis to name a few. Oz is straight to the point and gets down to business quick. He was stoked on the variety of the songs he was working with and added a great layer of warmth that comes through the best on vinyl as we've heard with our test pressings. There is a photo attached of us at Ancient Wave with him working his magic. He was once asked by Tom Waits "This mix sounds great but...it needs more brown" and so he figured it out.

The Northern Face Music Video Shoot

In October, we took off to Soda Springs and rented a cabin during filming for the music video. As I mentioned above we filmed in a historical landmark. You can see us at the entrance of Tunnel #6. If you look Closely you can see the scars on the granite as if the black powder and dynamite just blew it up yesterday. The town behind me on the cliff is Truckee and the lake below is Donner Lake. It is my goal to bring our listeners into the outdoors and feel the dirt in their hands and the smell of the woods.

Tragedy nearly took place though as after we finished filming all day on Saturday and celebrating all night Saturday night. What we thought were minor electrical issues with the house itself turned out to be a near fatal one when an electrical short in the gas fireplace sparked around 3AM. The fireplace caught fire thus lighting the outside of the house and chimney on fire proceeding to fill the house with smoke while 9 of us were fast asleep.

At 3:30 AM the smoke alarms went off like a symphony and we scrambled to find the source only to quickly determine that the fireplace was the problem. Black smoke poured out everywhere from behind the fireplace and we used two fire extinguishers in an attempt to put out the flames. What we didn't know and couldn't see was that the fire crept up all the way through the chimney in between the interior and exterior of the chimney. And just like that, within 10 minutes we started evacuating the house and helping each other clear the place out of our belongings, instruments, film equipment, and vehicles. The Truckee Fire Department came out and went to work and kicked ass on the fire while we assisted with information on how the fire and extending the hoses until reinforcement arrived.

In the end we all got out ok and luckily nobody had to go to the hospital. We all got smoked out pretty bad and were pretty shaken up. It was the real deal 100%. That house was on its way to burning down the house. That's the story behind the home footage at the end. If you look closely the entire house is billowing with smoke. We were all fast asleep about 40 minutes before that was filmed.

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[beaboutitpress]

3 Pieces by msw

Flash Memoir Artist Statement

The majority of my writing is in a style I’ve developed called Flash Memoirs. As opposed to a traditional memoir, where a writer recalls previous life experiences and meditates on their influence, these Flash Memoirs are vignettes that attempt to articulate the importance of the filler moments enveloping said events in real time, giving them an autonomous importance and stripping you of the chance to ruminate—the filler becomes the events and unlock subtleties of modern living. There is an arbitrary 350 word maximum set that was inspired by the 15- and eventually 60-second limit set for Instagram videos, which in a way takes you out of your phone to appreciate these few moments, only giving you a record of these glimpses. A reader’s time economy is important and I want to reward the effort. This glimpse-effect is substantial in form and rhythm to the way people communicate today, and forces the reader to let go of their own perceptions of others and their idiosyncrasies by way of these approachable, rappy, rhythmic, slang-heavy memoirs. This letting go is crucial to testing the reader’s malleability with American English, and my intention is to prove the subjectivity of the language, creating a new cross-cultural empathy.

no money for MetroCard

a jumble of kids talking shit & leaves scratching the ground & basketballs pounding pavement twinkle-pops from WhatsApp seagulls & engines Patua & Spanish ‘a nickel, a dime, anybody?’ a thought: if I found a dollar I’m coppin a pastelito nondescript music I don’t recognize from an unnamed furniture store smoothness, breeze against my face & damp hair boolin me down one dread long enough to sweep against both eyebrows block warm & golden peanut butter & tortillas being dissolved in stomach acid— a flashing image of my stomach looking like a forest— dreads hanging looking like a florist dry around the eyes ‘you know this dick ain’t freeee’ whirring from a maroon wine truck distracting me so I’m not looking at the signals ‘that is to like, 50 other people.’ only the top half of the buildings on Grand Concourse are golden bus brakes squeaking miscellaneous city noise 3rd Kennedy’s Fried Chicken in as many blocks anonymity feels good on such a deep level sidestepping dog shit pungent dog shit in Franz Sigel Park supersoft scrunchy footsteps mimicking a leaf chicken skin from Popeye’s smelling buuuuttery it done got dark so clouds are deep purple & grey & orange up against a row of 4 project buildings a thought: why am I assuming they project buildings? all falls silent sans scufflin in Mott Haven wind is persistent off the Madison Ave Bridge micro vertigo each light accentuates the blemishes on the river ‘that’s the guard honest truth’ Xmas trees back along Marcus Garvey Park so it’s piney af on the block

not for play play

Sometimes I’m aloof & mad standoffish & it comes off like I’m being an asshole but it’s not intentional & I’m working on this. Can’t tell if I’m heading towards a downswing cuz of new crushes or softening old ones or it’s prolly just That Time; deadass I’m thinking it could be money too, alllem anxieties bout spending & not having & what’s worth what yfm. Gotta run this evening. My momma’s friend died today & my mood definitely tanks & I’m tryna keep it together at work while simultaneously trying not to cuss out this fuck nigga bout texting on the clock. I clear Cap P before running in my OG St. James Park like a mile away from my front door; I gotta clear heem cuz the park is dumb lit & there’s hella kids around, gotta weave thoo smacked & them bompounded w my litness keeps my body in bonstant motion & it hurts but also feels good. Looking for sticks for my walls. Two times around & I’m out. Paranoid that niggas is following me on my way out but I’m knowing I'm just buggin so I stay generally prepared for any possible situation. I drop Cap P & he cracks in half on the sidewalk—this is after I double back in the park after seeing this immaculate black stick w smaller limp branches danglin off. Leaving off g's on downswings. But all of a sudden I’m triple lit & everybody on the street is beautiful & I bontemplate which Spanish spot I’mma order from when I’m back in My Shit. AK loves how it’s both loud & quiet simultaneously on our fire escape. I’m walking in mesh & smell like lavender. Now I’m just swiping thoo Tinder dreamin about who I could lay next to rn.

***

msw is a writer & artist from Kansas City Missouri living in New York City. msw is a leading authority on friendship, & plans on starting a residency program for underrepresented artists. msw's debut 'Sparse Black Whimsy: A Memoir' is available on 2fast2house. follow msw on Instagram @marcusscottwilliams @flashmemoirs

[altruisticenigma]

I'm a very lucky kid to be middle class and not experience poverty; I'm aware of this. I don't know the struggles of poverty or the shame of it but-

I don't know how to approach helping my fam in the Philippines, what with my parent's weird ass convoluted views on asking for help and how my own relatives view asking for help.

Filipinos like to keep stuff on the down low, keep things inside the family. But right now the only person who can make money in the family in the Philippines has carpal tunnel and can't work. My cousin told me they were worried about money, and apparently my grandparents are sick (one has Alzheimer's, too). They said they were worried about food.

I suggested to my mom that 1.) With my rad as fuck delivery job I would send over some small money (the economy is shit and $20 goes a LONG ass way there) 2.) We start a GoFundMe because it seems pretty serious. And again, my parents are horrid communicators too, so idk anything about how dire this is, or if my parents are being stingy... I've seen conditions in the Philippines, I know my relatives' house- I believe my parents are being assholes more so and that I should do something, whether or not they approve...

It's just... it just sickens me that pride and emotional barriers and shame are getting in the way of an actual possible crisis in the family rn. If my family really is worried about eating daily then I will respond to that and I don't care what my family says- my tips are my tips, and the Heavens above know how gracious they will be nightly. My shop is the third highest money makers in our state, and a SLOW night brings in $60. I got some debts to pay back to my partner and my parents and whatnot, but $20-$40 won't break my bank alongside my biweekly paycheck you know.

My parents really just make me ashamed sometimes. I don't understand them at times. I understand my mom took care of the family growing up because her own parents failed to do so, but to abandon them now when they're in need contradicts everything I've known about traditional Filipino bonds. If my parents went into crisis, I would still begrudgingly help my Dad. It upsets me.

I'll probably generate my own lowkey GoFundMe and circulate it within my own college. If it makes a wild amount of money I'll shove it my parents face to prove to them their own idiocy and show them they could have had an easy solution and helped family... but even then, if it makes small money, it's still so much support to bring to them.

[thinkingaboutsanfrancisco]

Sunday night, April 12th, 2015.

After the winter of running around with only ice in my veins, I'm glad I'm starting to thaw back to the peaceful default of time not being of the essence. It's hard to watch the clock like a hawk and let your existential worries take you hostage when you absolutely have no time for it to peculate. Either I'm in school or I'm trying to catch up on my assignments, I'm having lunch with Ray or I'm running into my dad as he's getting ready for one of his Chevron shifts, I'm helping customers or I'm stocking shelves, I'm picking up shit from S or I'm dealing it to Natalia... and I'm so consumed in all of it that it's only in these walks to the train station and on the ride back home itself where there's ever enough silence in my mind to allow the reality of to truly sink in. Honest to God, with the rate time passes through me nowadays, I'm stuck between thinking I still belong back in February, because that was the last month I can truly remember comprehending, or I've already expedited myself all the way forward to 2016. If it weren't for my dad's birthday last week and the fact that the A's are onto a rather impressive start, I wouldn't have noticed that we're already in the smack dab of April. I'm more than okay with it though. Breathing in this warm air is almost better than the Parliament soothing my lungs as I walk, but not quite. Nothing could ever top this reunion. 

Okay, well maybe not nothing... 

I wonder if Ray texted me back.

I haven't checked my phone since my last smoke break, which was about five hours ago, so maybe she has. Not like she has to or anything. Our conversation isn't the most vital, it's just the standard "Hey what are you up to?" sort of thing...except for with Ray, that conversation isn't completely boring because she's actually up to things. Last time I checked, she was at a late lunch with a friend of hers named Michelle at some place downtown that I'd never heard of. Apparently, they claim to have the World's Best BLT. She sent me a picture of her posing next to the sign proclaiming such, her silly grin as bright as ever, the sunglasses apt for the sunlight that's drenching her left shoulder... 

"Looks like heaven." 

It was my initial thought and I had to type it in a quick frenzy since my break was up. I didn't even get the chance to tell her goodbye...not like I need to or have to, she's not strict on formalities and probably just went back to her lunch, but something about it bothers me... 

Especially since I've come back to nothing. 

From her anyway. The only thing displayed on my phone screen is a series of play by plays from my dad about the A's, of which the only one I even bother to read is the second last one. 

1-510-698-9209: "Damn you Nelson cruz!! 8-7 Mariners...we tried there at the end but sometimes things are just too far out of reach :(" 

You can say that again... 

I swipe it out of my way and enter my password so I can text him back and call Nelson Cruz the biogenesis bastard that he is but, when I expand into my inbox, it's the conversation with Ray that I senselessly open.  The corner of my mouth falters even further, setting into a frown as I just review what is lingering in the air. That impulsive sentence. 

Why the hell did I say that? 

If I had the chance to tap into any of my intelligence, I would've seen the plethora of way more interesting and thought-provoking responses to her picture. I could've asked what made them claim that because it is quite bold. I could've asked her if she'd ever had a BLT, because, now that I think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her order one. She's pretty consistent with her fish and chips. I don't blame her choice, I don't even like BLTs that much...if it weren't for my fucking dad pushing the limit of his arteries by clogging them with that potent grease, I wouldn't even eat them. There is nothing about it that would be heaven to me. So why the hell did I have it in me to make such a fucking insinuation? To lift something to a heavenly status? Sure, I just went with the first thing I thought of, but...when you don't have time to think, you're going off of pure instinct; a primitive response... 

I don't know... 

I don't, but there's this feeling, this ache in my gut that's stirring and... I can't. Not again. Letting my mind run wild the way it did this morning was bad enough, but I can at least blame that on S. I think some of the fumes of his lovesick haze may have gassed me like the exhaust of the Bravada and turned me delusional. When someone is beaming the way he was this morning, it's only natural to want some of the rays to bask on you and you just start conjuring up energy out of conjectural reveries. 

But not again... 

I can't have that light cracking onto her. I can't show her even the slightest inkling that there even could be something. 

I can't have her knowing that what really looks heavenly is her in all of her radiance. 

And she won't. 

Not from that stupid message, that's for sure. She merely thinks I'm being overdramatically wistful about BLTs and that's perfectly fine. It's not out of left field in her eyes. She's seen me eat them, she thinks I like them more than I really do, otherwise, she wouldn't have enlightened me with that fact in the first place. She was practically expecting that sort of response. 

Everything is normal.

It's all the same as it was five minutes ago. It's all the same as it was five hours ago when I was texting her and the words were tumbling out as casually as they always do. It's all the same as it always was.

And always will be. 

With that, the screen dims to black because I haven't interacted with it, and I shove the phone in my pocket and pull out my burner. 

Maybe I'll have better luck with this one. 

I can't believe I'm eager to look at it since usually it's the other way around, but...fuck, I have been a little off my typical mark today. This weird twist of fate shouldn't surprise me at all. What I'm hoping to find is a response to my apology from last night's deserted customer. Customers can be a fickle bunch when it comes to forgiveness. Most of the time, I've found that a slight fuck up like this only pisses them off until the millisecond they get their hit from either you or someone else, then their gratification induces them into some sort of amnesia and everything is all in the clear. It's just another park, another Sunday. Of course, you never really know and it only takes one fucking lunatic to fly off the handle and make up for all of the decent, merciful, addled-amnesiacs, but I'm not going to throw myself into the furnace of paranoia over this guy. I don't think it's necessary...especially with the response I got. 

1-415-224-4618 "nah u good, i gotta stay off the shit tn. gonna see my sis." 

Oh shit. Okay... 

While I type back and tell him to hit me up whenever, the comedown of both relief and guilt hitting me at once is a weird feeling. I've gotten rather used to not thinking too much into my customer's personal lives, because either they're way too chatty with it to where I tune out or their guilt suffocates them from saying anything about it at all...and I prefer to keep it that way. I have to. However, I'd be a liar if I didn't say that sometimes this economy of despair doesn't thud an uncomfortable chord in that dark chamber deep within my chest when I'm reminded of the ultimate detriment, the ultimate price of these transactions... 

So much for trying to make myself feel better... 

Thankfully, all I have to do is take a moment to breathe out my pent up smoke and I'm back into the state of false security and the temporary irrelevance of morality. But, it doesn't take more than a swift movement of my thumb to scroll onto another lowercase head trip.

S.

1-415-214-4412 hey…how are u? i’m not doing so well. uh, idk what ur up to rn, or where u are, and i’m sorry in advance, but i REALLY wanna see u if ur around. it’s about lyd. let’s just say i shouldn’t have gotten so excited this morning. sorry again. i hate to be a burden. u don’t have to come, but if u feel like it i’m at that park on howard street. yerba something. i forgot. 

"Shiiiiiiit," is what involuntarily spills from my mouth as I come to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, just staring at the words like, if I do it for long enough, they'll give me some sort of answer because... 

What the hell am I supposed to do with t h i s? 

I have to do something. I can't just stand in the middle of this street forever, but dread keeps a grip on my legs. 

I don't want to get involved in this. I was perfectly fine being happy for S, because, believe it or not, I do enjoy seeing other people happy...even if they are my weirdo supplier. I wasn't totally comfortable with him or anything, but I think I came as close as I ever want to get during his story. I'm not aching to do it again, but it was a pleasant experience. 

While it lasted. 

Now, the sun has set and there's nothing but pitch black waters before me. They broke up. And...what the hell am I supposed to do about it? Why is he even asking me? According to him circa this morning, I don't know shit about relationships because I've never been in one---or, as he actually took the tactful way of translating it for once, "have yet to experience it". As much as I hate to admit it, he's right! I haven't! I know absolutely fuck all about the intricacies and feelings that go into them and I certainly know zero about the procedure of mending a broken heart. So what the fuck does he need me for? 

Oh no...is it a trap? 

Is he trying to lure me into a fucking park for some sort of vengean-- Stop. Knock it the fuck off. He isn't. He's not pushing that hard...he straight up said I didn't have to come for Christ sake, and I'm glad because I don't. The last thing I want to do is scour the uneven mountains that are the streets of San Francisco after already being on my feet forever and further scour some fucking park in the dark to get on a level I know shit about with the absolute last guy I'd ever want to be on that level with.

But I should.

My curiosity is a bitch. A real fucking bitch. The ball is so out of left field that it's plunked in the Bay and is being carried en route to the Pacific Ocean. Again, there are business reasons, but there's just something else there that's nagging within me. 

Does he TRUST me? 

Sure, this morning could've been a one-off. He might've figured that I was the only one awake enough early at that hour to even respond, but even then...there's got few other people who are in the know about his relationship with Lyd, some who would've been way more receptive to the call of duty, someone who would even be able to relate to any of this...or at least high enough to where they could improvise. And maybe there are. Maybe I'm just one of the hundred that he told and will tell. I don't know the answer to that, but, even so, it's still a good sign. He's lowered his inhibitions enough to let me into his personal circle, whatever the size of it is, and I don't know what I've done to be here outside of buying drugs from him to get in here, but we've come too far for me not to uphold it. Besides, I need to hear something besides for my own fucking shit for once. It'll be good for me. 

1-415-208-0013: Okay. It might be a while since I have to catch the train, but I'm on my way.

Send. 

Barely two seconds later... 

1-415-214-4412: thank god sorry again. hope the train doesn't suck too bad lmao.

1-415-208-0013: It won't. 

Send. 

Close. 

I slip the phone back in my pocket and ignore its subsequent buzz so I can cross the street over its intersecting tracks and not get caught in some freak MUNI accident, tossing my cigarette once I've made it over in one piece. 

As I approach West Portal Station, I stop and pull out my MUNI pass so I won't have to be that guy who pulls out his wallet at the barrier and makes two measly seconds feel like ten fucking minutes. Not like that would be a crushing blow tonight. There are more people around than there was earlier this morning, but they don't rob the tranquility. The barrier's a breeze, there's not much traffic clogging up the way so the train isn't too late, the seats are spacious enough for me to comfortably pull out The Catcher In The Rye, and by the end of the ride, I have to remind myself that I'm not the one getting off at Penn Station. Rather I'm jarred into Powell instead of the typical Embarcadero. It's closer to the park, but that promise is nothing more than a sardonic joke to the unfamiliar. If it weren't for Google showing me where the fuck to go, I'd instantly give back up and go back down nderground concrete mazes are a lot easier to navigate than the above ground ones. Fortunately, it's only a five-minute bustle around the block. Unfortunately, the second the yellow brick road stops at its' open end, all dread begins to sink in. 

I'll never find him. 

This isn't your typical sliver of neighborhood grass, nor should I have expected it to be. It's quite an impressive sprawl of land for such a cramped city. In daylight, I'm sure it's a nice place to be, but, right now, these fucking weird solar streetlamps aren't doing too much. There's not a bench in immediate sight and not a shadow of anyone of his stature sitting in the grass...but I can see that this sidewalk loops around, so perhaps he's at the other side of the park. 

If he isn't, he can get up and find me. 

With a deep sigh, I trudge on through with my hand in my pocket tentatively wrapped around my phone for when I give up and call him. My fingers get a little tighter with each fucking lamp I pass...until I see something up ahead. Several benches in the widened path, of which the closest one to me has a lanky man slumped in it, whose only seeming sign of life is the cigarette he keeps puffing on, only further highlighting the grimly crestfallen look weighing on his face. 

Holy shit. 

"Hi..." I say when I come to a stop before him, my voice perking at least some registration of the present into him as he looks up at me. It relieves a little upward twitch at the corner of my mouth, but it falters about as soon as it came. He just...does not look good. At all. I don't know what the fuck I was expecting him to look like but it wasn't this bad. There aren't any tears down his face or welling in his eyes, but I don't think there's anything in there to fire it up right now. He looks colder and greyer than the sidewalk, and, despite how he keeps puffing on the cigarette, I can tell he knows the smoke ultimately isn't helping him.Not like I'm going to be any better. As I sit down beside him and stare forward, all I can see is the mounting brick wall of the inevitable: What the hell can I even say next?