#feels like a weird contrast at the moment between tour being this lovely celebration of the connection with the fans

[jakeperalta]

I just think that selling different album variations so that people have to buy multiple editions to be able to (legally) listen to all the tracks is a blatant cash/sales grab. but then to only announce/make one available at a time so that people can't even make an informed decision about what they are buying is just taking the piss

[thespoonisvictory]

Please write the long critical post, I can only speak for myself but I’d read it

thank you for indulging me anon, apologies to any big karl jacobs fans in the audience tonight, but he’s been on a roll of questionable things lately.

first and most importantly, this much traveling during such a crucial stage in the pandemic is unnecessary and comes off so unbelievably privileged. even if he has the ability to get regularly tested, he certainly isn’t quarantining as he should be. especially in contrast to ccs like wilbur saying he hasn’t seen his mom in nearly a year or people in general being unable to reunite with loved ones, running around meeting up with every cc under the sun just doesn’t sit well with me. not only this, but the fact that he’s the only cc to be doing this type of meet up so frequently just makes it stand out. it’s unnecessary and feels weird that karl is so lacking in self-awareness as to why this might be a bad idea.

onto more petty reasons, the celebrity tours are just bad. they’re not well planned and while it’s not a big deal, it’s something that makes me wonder why karl insists on doing them so frequently. this isn’t helped by the fact that this is pretty much the only time he’s actually on the server, and yet he seems to want to act as a spokesperson for it. karl, while part of the feral boys, really doesn’t mess with the sdmp ‘culture’ (for lack of a better word), and yet seems to want to be the face of it. it almost feels like he wants the clout of the smp without really getting why it’s so special, and it makes the tours really, really awkward.

a good example of this is the way he kind of takes over the area of land niki designated for her city to make a kingdom out of the blue, without asking her for permission. it’s not a big deal, but it’s again karl kind of stepping on the dream smp lore/culture that so many people care about.

(there’s also the fact that he tends to hang around bigger ccs pretty much exclusively, and often streams after big lore streams, and gives the biggest streamers the biggest parts in tales. it’s not inherently bad, and it could be coincidence, but it happens so much that it starts to get grating.)

there’s just a lot of small moments that I guess have been slowly grating on me: his insistence on being in sadist’s animatics despite not playing a major plot role, trying to stir up drama between dream and techno back when the duel was a big deal, the way he hypes up tales so much in comparison to any other cc, etc. it just comes off a bit clout chase-y, y’know? he often goes for big! shocking! better than ever! we’re starting a kingdom! I hired a team of builders! karaoke stream! meetup! but hasn’t really seemed to establish an individual sense of content that doesn’t rely on other ccs or big, grand ideas.

I also just don’t really enjoy tftsmp for a variety of reasons, but that’s too much to get into and it’s been said already.

I don’t want to come off like I hate karl. I find him endearing at times, like with the candle girl story or some sweet interactions with the feral boys. it’s more that I think sometimes karl leans really hard into the clout chaser aspect that most ccs have, and it can be frustrating at times. add that to his neglect to follow covid guidelines and it really sours him as a cc for me rn.

[harryhighkey]

reassurance

hi! it’s been a really long time since i posted a one shot! i don’t really have a good excuse besides that life has just been really busy. but i genuinely do miss writing these. here’s just a little something to get me back into it 

______________________

It was late, and normally by this time you would be in bed with Harry and finding yourselves somewhere in between either a deep coversation, making love, laughing at silly things or even seeing a viral parkour video and asking him if he thought you could do it to which he would say,

“Baby, you can’t even walk up the hallway without tripping over.”

But currently, you were kind of avoiding going up to your bedroom. Harry had been off for the later part of the night. You couldn’t figure out why either and it was putting you in a weird mood, also. Usually you were so tuned in with him that you would notice even the slightest shift in his demeanour, as he would with you too.

However, whatever mindset he was in tonight really seemed to appear out of no where. You couldn’t pick where it came from at all. There was no argument, no significance with what day it was, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Hell, you hadn’t even been secretly binging TV shows you were meant to watch together behind his back just because you couldn’t wait after he got upset about it last time. You couldn’t even really tell if Harry’s mood was more mad, sad or anything else in between and you were dwelling over it. You couldn’t find any kind of clue and your brain was caught in a whirl of over thinking.

You sighed as your phone died, you’d been killing time by scrolling through Tiktok. It was the only thing that was keeping your brain distracted. This time, you had to finally make your way to your room where you knew Harry was. You couldn’t help but become a little anxious with each step. You were a big believer in being honest with feelings - and thought everyone else should be too - so when you couldn’t pick what was going on because something wasn’t being said, you felt so out of your element. 

You couldn’t help but to think you shouldn’t have to be feeling like this, it had been such a good afternoon and night. Your best friend had come over spontaneously, but that was nothing new. She did that about once a week, and her and Harry got on well. At first the three of you were hanging out, you’d had an early dinner and then Harry left you two, to allow you to have friend time. He was good like that, he knew how important friendship was to you. But that was never something that bothered him before.

You’d noticed his mood change when you went to ask him if he wanted a tea when you were making some for you and (Y/F/N). And the way he answered you was so strange, immediately you noticed and asked if he was okay and once again, his reply was not like his usual self. If you didn’t have a friend over you probably would have questioned him further, but you figured it could wait until it was just the two of you.

Which happened to be right now. And fuck, you wished it had been sorted out earlier so you weren’t overthinking how this was going to go.

You cracked open the bedroom door and stuck your head in, as if you were a guest in someone else's home and trying to find the right room. However, this was more your apartment, Harry had been living here ever since he got back from tour a couple of months ago, though.

He looked up and saw you peering in, “What are you doing?” He initiated the conversation, but it wasn’t said with any humour, you picked up on that. Things were still not completely okay.

You took the opportunity to come into the room fully, taking the few steps it took to reach your bed in your not so big bedroom. “Phone died.” You answered him while sitting on the side of the bed and reaching for your charger.

“That’s the only reason you came up?”

Shit, things were touchy with him then.

“What? No.” You answered him instantly, twisting to face him and bending one of your legs up on the bed. “I just got caught in a Tiktok scroll after (Y/F/N) left.”

“Told ya’ not to go on that before bed.” His tone was lighter and you smiled, unconsciously shifting more onto the bed and closer to him. He smelt so good, and his hair was damp. He’d showered already. “Keeps you up for hours. Good thing it died.”

“It’s not my fault I find the dumbest shit funny.”

“That definitely is your fault, that’s your sense of humour!” Harry laughed then, too.

“Oh my god, like yours is any better.” Harry was definitely no where near into social media as you were, but he would always come see what had you laughing at your screen. And sometimes he’d find himself laughing too, but it mostly made him smile to see you laughing. “I didn’t even get to do a twitter scroll yet.”

He frowned at that and looked away. The weird mood was back as quick as that brief moment of normal had appeared. Why? You hadn’t said anything to upset him, he knew you also enjoyed scrolling through twitter to see silly things to laugh at there, too.

“Hey,” He looked back at you as you got his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He was being stubborn and you really had to fight against an eye roll. You hated when he was like this, it wasn’t all the time but enough to frustrate you when he wouldn’t be forthright with his feelings.

“Harry.”

“(Y/N).”

“Please tell me what’s going on. We had such a good night, I’m really not understanding this right now.” You were always very forthright with your feelings, sometimes that contrast between you two worked wonders and other times, it was challenging. Tonight seemed to be the latter.

He let out a deep breath and had a very deep in thought look on his face as he stared at his own feet stretched out to the end of the bed. God, even there propped up against the headboard he looked perfect. If your phone wasn’t dead, you would have picked it up and taken a photo. 

“Why are you smiling?” He caught you staring with that fond look upon your face.

“You just look really good right now.”

“You sure about that?”

What? 

“What?” The word appeared loud in your head and also exited your lips in surprise. That was not the typical reaction you received from Harry after complimenting him. You couldn’t help but to begin to think that whatever he was feeling off about was something not so major, in fact, something petty or he wouldn’t be acting so immaturely otherwise. “Tell me what’s going on, you’re being silly right now.”

Stubbornly he looked away.

“Harry, c’mon. You know this is gonna’ get to me if you don’t tell me.”

“Something you said got to me.”

“What did I say?” Your reply was a little defensive, you didn’t want it to be but you couldn’t help it. You knew something was off with him, but you didn’t expect it to be specifically something you done or said to him, because you truly thought tonight had been such a good and chilled out night.

“When you were talking about Zac Efron.” He finally admitted what was stirring in him and the conversation with your friend from earlier played in your mind.

-

“Dude, what?!” You displayed genuine surprise at what your friend had just told you. “There’s no fucking way, you’re lying.” After reminiscing over a funny memory that had happened when you and your friends had gone to see High School Musical Three at the cinemas, you’d been informed by your friend that Zac Efron was in a relationship with a girl he’d met at a cafe while she was waitressing.

“I’m not! Check twitter, it’s all over it.” She prompted you.

You picked up your phone then. “Oh my fucking god.” You exclaimed after typing Zac Efron into your twitter search bar. “This is like... real fanfiction shit.”

“I know!”

“She is living the literal dream, imagine dating the actual Troy Bolton. Her life couldn’t get better.”

“Personally, I’m more into a 17 again Zac Efron.”

“Or how truly beautiful he looked in Charlie St. Cloud. What a man.”

-

It was such a silly conversation with your friend, one that in all honestly, really had no significance. You, like many other people, were a big fan of the High School Musical movies and - once again - like many other people had a celebrity crush on Zac Efron at the time.

“Harry, you can’t be serious right now.” You couldn’t help but to let out a laugh, all of this fretting you had been doing over something so minor.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to know this is really dumb.”

“Didn’t you hear how you talked about him? Saying how his girlfriend has got the best life and shit like that.”

“Oh my god, you do not need to be this jealous right now.”

“It wasn’t very nice to hear, (Y/N).” You didn’t even realise Harry had heard you two talk about this, he must have gone to the bathroom or something and overheard as he walked past you two on the couch. But after his latest response you started to realise that all he heard was you two talking about Zac Efron, his current reaction probably meant he had missed when you talked about your own life with Harry.

“Did you stay around to listen to what I said after that?”

“No, I had enough.”

“Oh, baby, you really missed out on the good part.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” You know you shouldn’t be teasing him right now, but you really couldn’t help but to make fun of him. It wasn’t often that Harry got caught up in something more on the pettier side and you weren’t one to shy away from teasing in the first place.

“Don’t.” Along with his one worded reply, he scooted his body down to lay flat on the bed before rolling onto his side and groaning into the pillow. He knew this was one of the more trivial things he had gotten annoyed at you with, but he couldn’t help but to allow his jealousy to seek through. Not when it came to his dream girl.

Mirroring his movements, you too manoeuvred to be laying down on your side and once you were comfortable, you brought a hand up to run it through his hair. “Well, if you had stuck around to hear the rest of that conversation you would’ve heard me say,” He turned his head to face you then, genuine curiosity painted on his features and it truly took your breath away how beautiful he was this close up. “that I was living in the best fanfiction of all.” He started to smile then, he could notice the blush beginning to appear in your cheeks. You typically weren’t one for a sappy moment, so when you were this way he loved every second of it.

“Tell me more.”

“Well, I said to (Y/F/N), it’s kind of weird because Zac Efron is this celebrity crush, you know? Like a, never gonna happen but woah, that man-”

“I meant tell me more about me, not him.” He cut you off and there was a little anger in his voice, but it was at least mixed with a little humour this time.

“I’m getting there.” You laughed at him again. “Anyway, but, so were you once upon a time for me.”

“Hm?”

“Harry, you know this already, don’t make me say it.” Now you rolled over, except onto your back to look at the ceiling.

“If you want to make it up to me, I gotta hear it.” He wasn’t being serious, you knew he had already moved past the jealousy from before, but it was rare to catch you in a more romantic spiel and he wanted to milk it some more.

You let out a sigh before continuing. “Well, you know I was a One Direction fan.”

“I’ll never forget the night you told me.” You laughed at that reply from him and so did he, it came out when you were very drunk and made for lots of embarrassing moments the next day. 

“Anyway, what I was saying to (Y/F/N) was kind of along the lines of, if I could tell a younger version of myself walking out of her first One Direction concert that she’d be where I am right now, she’d... I don’t know, die or cry or something.” You turned your head to look over at him then and he was smiling in that way that made his dimple so prominent and the beat of your heart harder. “Like, yes, I have celebrity crushes from when I was younger, but, I’m so happy with you, Harry.” You rolled back onto your side, you wanted him to know you meant this. “This life with you is better than any fanfiction or daydream I could think ever up. You don’t need to be jealous, I have everything I want with you.” You didn’t intend for the mood to shift but tears of complete happiness had welled in your eyes.

Harry noticed and he brought his arm around you to pull you closer in towards him until your bodies were against one another. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 5

Sarah Louise

A week or two before this Dust’s deadline, we got our first tour announcement by email in more than a year. It was the first of deluge, as live music looks to be coming back with a vengeance starting this summer and really picking up steam around September. Meanwhile, we celebrate our newly vaxxed (or for our Canadian correspondents half-vaxxed) status with tentative steps outside. Your editor had her first beer at a brew pub in mid-May, and it was stupendous. Also stupendous, the onslaught of new music, which has, if anything, accelerated. This month, contributors include all the regulars plus a few new people: Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Patrick Masterson, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke, Andrew Forell, Ian Mathers, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw and Chris Liberato. Happy spring, happy normal and happy listening!

Amulets — Blooming (The Flenser)

Blooming by AMULETS

Like a lot of us, Portland-based noise artist Randall Taylor discovered the solace of long walks during the pandemic. His work, which has always used tape degradation to explore the intersection of time, loss and technology, shifted to incorporate another source of decay: the natural world. So, in opening salvo, “Blooming,” alongside blistering onslaughts of eroded guitar sound, it is possible to hear the sounds of a fertile garden — birds, insects, air movement. You can nearly smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on your skin. “The New Normal” explores sounds of creaking, friction-y word and metal, alongside pristine chimes of synthetic tone. It is uneasy, with skittering string-like squeaks and swoops, but also deeply meditative; it shifts from moment to moment from anxiety to provisional acceptance, much as we all did last year, staring out our windows. Overall, the tone is elegiac, gorgeous, but Randall does not hesitate to introduce dissonance. “Heaviest Weight” thunders with frayed bass tones, a weight and a threat in their subliminal pulse. The contrast between that ominous sound and purer, clearer layers of melody, makes for unsettling listening—are we at war or peace, happy or sad, agitated or calm? And yet, perhaps that’s the point, that the past year has been swirl of feelings, boredom alongside anxiety, hope lighting the corners of our listlessness, the smell of flowers pleasing but faintly reminiscent of funerals. Blooming decocts this mix into sound.

Jennifer Kelly

 Astute Palate — S-T (Petty Bunco)

Astute Palate by Astute Palate

Astute Palate is a hastily assembled group of rockers summoned to support David Nance in Philly on a date when he couldn’t bring the David Nance Band. Participants included Richie Records proprietor Richie Charles, Lantern’s Emily Robb, Writhing Squares/Purling Hiss/all around Philadelphia regular Daniel Provenzano on bass and, of course, Nance himself, all huddled together in Robb’s recording studio for a weekend together. None of this origin story does justice, however, to the pure liquid fire of this one-off musical collaboration, dominated by Nance’s viscous, distorted blues-inflected guitar wail, but knocked sideways by brute force drumming, wild hypnotic bass lines and the ritual incantation of Nance (and later Robb) singing. The long “Stall Out” does anything but, rampaging free-range in unbridled Crazy Horse/Allmans-style abandon for close to ten minutes without a single sputter. “A Little Proof” is somehow simultaneously heavier and more country, spinning out the soul-blues jams like a younger, unrulier cousin to MC5. “Treadin’ Schuylkill” gives Provenzano the spotlight, opening with a growling bass solo soon joined by heavy psych guitars (a nod, perhaps, to the illustrious locals in Bardo Pond). If Nance et. al. can pull stuff this fine out in a stray road warrior weekend, what are the rest of you doing with your lives?

Jennifer Kelly

 Axis: Sova — Fractal (God?)

Fractal - EP by Axis: Sova

Axis: Sova is a combo of three Chicago guys plus one drum machine, which had already been inactive for two or three seasons before the initial COVID lockdown. This digital EP is their way of clearing up some business that could no longer remain undone. The title tune, “Fractal USA,” is a remake of a song from the early days, when the “band” was Brett Sova’s solo project, to full-on, no your pants aren’t tight enough rock band. They just needed you to know about the evolution, you see, so go ahead, do some scissor kicks and gurn while they windmill away; you have enough money saved up from not seeing live music to pay the inevitable chiropractor bill. “Caramel” hypothesizes that a Cluster song that’s played twice as loud and twice as long is twice as good; not sure if I agree, but it’s still not bad at all. Maybe you got a little weird after a few months of putting on your best mask for your daily trip to see if the stimulus check was in the mailbox? The Brenda Ray-meets-Old Black mash up, “(Don’t Wanna Have That) Dream,” is proof that while you were alone, you weren’t alone. If you’ve made it this far, you don’t need to have the fourth track described, so let’s just say that it’s longer.

Bill Meyer

Mattie Barbier — Three Spaces (self-released)

three spaces by mattie barbier

While perhaps best known as half of the trombone-centric new music duo RAGE Thormbones, Mattie Barbier is a member of several other combos and a sonic researcher under their own name. Three Spaces, which is a single, album-length sound file, has the air of experimentation about it. “What do I do,” one can imagine Barbier asking themself, “when I can’t play with other people?” Make music at home, and out of what’s at home, is the obvious answer. But doing isn’t the only point here; the outcome also matters, and while what Barbier has accomplished with Three Spaces sounds quite different from the RAGE Thormbones live experience, it registers quite strongly. Barbier has combined long tones and melodic fragments played on euphonium, trombone and reed organ, that were recorded both inside and outside of their home. Carefully layered, the source material combines into a sound rather like a bell’s toll, which over the course of nearly 39 minutes swells and recedes, but never quite decays; it ends with an imposed rather than natural fade-out. The sound is as deep as it is expansive, inviting the listener to let themselves fall ever father into its realm.

Bill Meyer

 Beneath — On Tilt EP (Hemlock Recordings)

On Tilt EP by Beneath

One of the more pleasant surprises this year is the resuscitation of Untold’s Hemlock Recordings imprint. A vital voice in the post-dubstep fracas at the turn of the ‘10s thanks to releases from Hessle Audio’s Pearson Sound (when he was still Ramadanman) and Pangaea, James Blake, FaltyDL and Hodge to name but a handful, the label went dormant following a Ploy 12” in 2017 before the surprise announcement of Londoner Beneath’s On Tilt, which sounds every bit the sensible alliance in practice it looks on paper: These are low-end rumblers with irregular rhythms and spare melodic tics that worm their way into your brain in the best bone-humming fashion (see “Shambling” or “Lesser Circulation” for a good example). Who knows how long the return will last, but for a certain stripe of DMZ-damaged devotee and pretty much no one else, it’ll feel good to have some Hemlock in your life again. Tilt back, pour in.

Patrick Masterson

 Black Spirit— El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos (Infinite Night Records)

More metal comes from South America than Spain, but these Europeans clear the high bar set by Latin America scenesters. The album’s title states that it was inspired by “El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos.” That can testify both to lasting influence of Goya’s art and to the laziness of the current culture which seeks inspiration only from the most popular pictorial art of the past. The track “Ignorance and The Grotesque” perfectly captures the whole mood of the disc: it balances ignorant speeds, undecipherable vocals and grotesque parts with piano interludes and doom-ish atmosphere. It would be better without the grotesque, but that’s probably part of the baggage.

Ray Garraty

 Burial + Blackdown — Shock Power of Love EP (Keysound Recordings)

Shock Power of Love EP by Burial

You might worry, occasionally, that Burial was becoming a victim of diminishing returns. Here, as ever, he uses a narrow palette to create tracks that few can emulate. However, even though the music has its rewards, it doesn’t clear the very high bar that his previous work has set. Thus “Dark Gethsemane” rides a 4/4 beat, angelic murmurs, vinyl crackle and a tightly ratcheted build that morphs into a sermon led by the repeated invocation “We must shock this nation with the power of love.” As his vocal samples become more explicit, the mystery of his music fades. This is all promise and no real resolution. “Space Cadet’ likewise sounds both gorgeous and minor with its soul gospel refrain “Take Me Higher” over an old-school jungle beat. At six plus minutes it would have been enough. It continues another three with an almost cartoonish second movement that lacks the subtlety that characterizes Burial’s best work.

Andrew Forell 

  Colleen — The Tunnel and the Clearing (Thrill Jockey)

The Tunnel and the Clearing by Colleen

While COVID messed with most people’s lives, it was both an endgame and an opportunity for Cécile Schott, the Frenchwoman who records under the name Colleen. She was just coming out of a series of health and personal dislocations, which resulted in her being newly healthy but alone in a new town just as the lockdown came down. Clearly, this was not a time for half measures, so she selected an entirely new instrumental set-up and settled in to make a record that reflected what she’d been through. Out went the viola da gamba and melodica that have figured prominently on her last few albums; in came a Moog synthesizer, a Yamaha organ, a tape echo and a drum machine.  

Colleen’s voice, of course, remains the same. Airy and precise, her delivery doesn’t match the gravity of the experiences her songs describe. But that sense of remove is, perhaps, a reflection of one of adversity’s lessons; if you don’t stay stuck, you can wind up somewhere quite different. Between the keyboards’ cycling melodies and the drum machine’s fizzy beats, the music on The Tunnel and the Clearing imparts a sense of motion that carries her light voice along for the ride, dropping painful sentiments and letting them fall behind.

Bill Meyer  

 Current Joys — Voyager (Secretly Canadian)

Nick Rattigan has been releasing music under the name Current Joys since 2013, and Voyager is his latest offering. It’s a dramatic and often brilliant collection of songs, bringing to mind the urgent rhythmic drive of Spoon, the dour grandeur of The Cure and the unapologetic emotional heft of Bright Eyes or early Arcade Fire. On Voyager’s standout, “American Honey,” a simple strummed backing and Rattigan’s vocal delivery are potent enough, but it’s the string section that proves devastating, cycling around for multiple punches to the gut. While more stripped-back songs such as “Big Star” and “The Spirit or the Curse” offer some respite along the way, Voyager does prove a little unwieldy. With 16 tracks clocking in at nearly an hour, the album’s execution doesn’t quite live up to its ambition. The wonky tom-tom rhythms of “Breaking the Waves” are more distracting than interesting; a serviceable cover of Rowland S. Howard’s “Shivers” feels more like an acknowledgment of influence than a striking interpretation; and the combined six minutes of the two-part instrumental title track may have worked better as shorter interludes. Nevertheless, plenty of Voyager’s tracks demonstrate Rattigan’s knack for a raw, emotive indie-rock tune.

Tim Clarke

 Ducks Ltd — Get Bleak EP (Carpark Records)

Toronto duo Ducks Ltd celebrates signing to Carpark with an expanded re-release of their 2018 debut EP Get Bleak. The pair — Tom Mcgreevy on vocals, rhythm and bass guitars and Evan Lewis on lead guitar — bonded over a shared love of 1980s indie bands. Their intricately constructed guitar interplay carries the DNA of Postcard and C86 over meaty bass lines that evoke Mighty Mighty as much as Orange Juice and McCarthy. The sprightly music belies the miserablism of the lyrics that focus on FOMO, poor decisions, screen induced isolation, the corrosive impact of gentrification and gig economies. Mcgreevy and Lewis don’t wallow, however. Their jaunty jangle is a paean to the joys of jumping about and singing along with those new favorite songs that suddenly mean everything and will stick with you long after the world’s shit slopes your shoulders.

Andrew Forell

 Field Music — Flat White Moon (Memphis Industries)

It’s easy to take Field Music for granted. Since 2005, the Brewis brothers have been making smartly composed and tightly executed guitar pop with obvious debts to The Beatles and XTC, and all their albums have fallen somewhere along the continuum from good to great (my personal favorites are 2010’s Measure and 2012’s Plumb). Album number eight, Flat White Moon, features the usual balance between Peter’s more pensive, bittersweet numbers with greater focus on piano and strings, such as “Orion From the Street” and “When You Last Heard From Linda,” and David’s funkier, more staccato cuts, such as “No Pressure” and “I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You.” Twelve songs, 40 minutes, tunes for days — what’s not to love? If you’ve yet to get acquainted with Field Music, Flat White Moon is as good an introduction as any.

Tim Clarke 

 Gabby Fluke-Mogul/Jacob Felix Heule/Kanoko Nishi-Smith — Non-Dweller (Humbler)

non-dweller by gabby fluke-mogul, Jacob Felix Heule, & Kanoko Nishi-Smith

With Non-Dweller, we have a trio of Bay-Area improvisers who certainly do not reside in one place for very long. There is an agitated freneticism about their interactions here, the performers acting like electrons seeking to release energy and break out of orbit. Each player brings a unique collection of timbres to the party with their implement of choice. Heule is a percussionist by trade yet focuses on extended techniques — mainly friction-based — as he wrests an unholy wail from the maw of his bass drum. Fluke-Mogul’s violin sways between tone generator and noise source. Nishi-Smith is a classically trained pianist who here is bowing and plucking the koto, or Japanese zither. The trio spend most of their time in sparring mode, their energies unleashed with synchrony as if in an elaborate dance. It is clear they have collaborated before. Heule and Nishi-Smith have been at it for over a decade; Fluke-Mogul joined the party in 2019. The most gorgeous moments happen when all three players are focused on friction: Heule slides across his drum, Fluke-Mogul soars with their violin and Nishi-Smith gracefully bows her koto. The energy is focused and particles collide, creating waves of tone. The players wrestle intensity into submission, and the ensuing sonorities are unmissable.

Bryon Hayes

 FMB DZ — War Zone (Fast Money Boyz \ EMPIRE)

Ever since FMB DZ got shot and moved out of Detroit, he has continued to release angry music. (He may not be more productive after the assault, but he’s certainly not less so.) War Zone is his latest effort, along with The Gift 3 and Ape Season, and DZ is back in his paranoiac mode and ready for vengeance. That’s hardly unusual in this type of music but DZ stands out because he’s a bit angrier, a bit more pressing and a bit more gifted than the next man. He doesn’t outdo himself in this tape, but rather mostly follows the blueprint of Ape Season. The standout track is “Spin Again.”

Ray Garraty

 Ian M Fraser — Berserk (Superpang)

Berserk by Ian M Fraser

Ian M Fraser is kind enough to provide details about how he created and edited Berserk, although relatively few listeners are going to really know what “nonlinear feedback systems and waveset synthesis” are, let alone “sensormonitor primitives auditory perception software”. And fewer still will be able to focus on what that might mean while Berserk is actually playing, because the output of those programs and systems is immediately, viscerally clear. If a computer were actually capable of going rabid, feral, well, berserk, the human mind might imagine it sounds something like this. Over four shorter tracks and the relatively epic 8:26 of “The Cannibal,” Fraser either coaxes or allows (or both) his tools into the equivalent of something like what someone who knew very little about both genres might imagine is like a power electronics act playing free jazz or vice versa. It is absolutely viscerally thrilling (albeit probably easier to repeat at this length of 16 minutes than, say, 50) and will do the track the next time you feel like your brain needs a good hard scrub.

Ian Mathers 

  Human Failure — Crown on the Head of a King of Mud (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Crown on the Head of a King of Mud by Human Failure

It’s tough to figure out if the band’s name is meant specifically to apply to D. Cornejo (sole member of Human Failure) or to the general field of human failure, which grows ever more capacious. Whatever the intent, Human Failure makes thoroughly unlovable music, pitched somewhere on the continuum that runs from the primitivist death metal to stenchcore to harsh noise. This reviewer is especially fond (yep, somehow that’s the only word for it) of the title track of this 10” record: “Crown on the Head of a King of Mud” sloughs and slogs along for two minutes, sort of like one of the ripest zombies in Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), wandering about and slowly falling to pieces in Florida’s tumid heat. Just as that last bit of flesh is poised to slide from bone, the song unexpectedly breaks into a run. Where is it going? What’s the rush? No one knows. Things eventually bottom out into “Disassembling Morality,” a static-and-distortion laden electronic interlude that might squeak and spark for a bit too long — but then “Your Hope Is a Noose” shambles into the frame. That zombie seems to have found some equally noisome and truculent friends. They djent and pogo around for a while, and the song has a lot more fun than seems called for by the band name. Cornejo might be pissed off by the myriad manmade disasters and outright catastrophes that burden the earthball (he’s sure angry as heck about something…). But the record ends up being sort of successful, if deafening, grinding, growling stench is on the agenda. All things considered, why wouldn’t it be?

Jonathan Shaw

 Insub Meta Orchestra — Ten / Sync (Insub)

Ten / Sync by INSUB META ORCHESTRA

Ten / Sync was recorded in September, 2020; not exactly lockdown time, but certainly not out of the pandemic woods. It’s no small task to keep any 50-strong orchestra going, let alone one devoted to experimental music. So, if you already have one, then having it perform during a pandemic is just another challenge among many. So, the Swiss-based orchestra assembled three groups of musicians, numbering 31 in all, and assembled their contributions during post-production. While this did not provide the social experience that IMO’s gatherings usually impart to participants, an outcome that just isn’t the same seems awfully representative of the time, right? And since one Insub Meta Orchestra subspeciality is making music that sounds like it was performed by many fewer players than were actually present, this collection of sustained chords concealing tiny actions and apparently disassembled passages is actually very representative of the ensemble’s music.

Bill Meyer

Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore — Neutral Love (Astral Editions)

Neutral Love by Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore

With her own group, the Elder Ones, and in Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl, singer Amirtha Kidambi shows how far you can take a song while still giving the meanings of words and the boundaries of form their dues. But Neutral Love, like her two tapes with Lea Bertucci, explores the territory outside the tower of song. The main structures for this improvised encounter with electric guitarist Matteo Liberatore seem to be a shared agreement to exclude certain options. Song form and overt displays of chops are right out; the patient manipulation of sounds is where it’s at. Liberatore opts mostly for swelling and subsiding resonations, while Kidambi spends a lot of time finding out what’s hiding at the back of her throat, drawing it out, and then tying it into elaborate shapes. Patient and eerie, these four tracks find a place adjacent to Charalambides at their most abstract, and make it their own.

Bill Meyer

 Kosmodemonic — Liminal Light (Transylvanian Recordings)

KOSMODEMONIC - LIMINAL LIGHT by KOSMODEMONIC

NYC outfit Kosmodemonic is among the recent wave of metal bands attempting to effect an organic-sounding synthesis of numerous subgenres: a slurry of sludge, a bit of black metal, a dose of doom, and a hit or two of the lysergic. When it works — as it does on a number of tracks on the band’s long new cassette Liminal Light — it’s an exciting sound. Songs like “Moirai” and “Broken Crown” manage to couple tuneful riffs, dirty tone and a muscular bottom end in ways that feel thumping, groovy and pretty weird. You’ll want to bump your butt around even as you’re looking for something to break. But the tape is pretty long, and the further afield Kosmodemonic gets from that mid-tempo groove, the more middling (and sometimes muddled) the material sounds. “With Majesty” can’t quite find its rhythmic footing in its more technical passages, and the song’s sludgier sections feel like compromises, rather than interesting maneuvers. But the record begins and finishes with really strong songs. Both “Drown in Drone” and “Unnaming Unlearning” embrace scale, letting their big riffs rip. When “Unnaming Unlearning” slips into complex sections of blackened and distorted dissonance, the drama surges. Formal experiment and manipulation of mood fold into each other. The song gets interesting, even as it’s reaching for a peak. And then it ends, suddenly, violently. It’s pretty good. Your impulse is to flip the tape and hear it again, which is just what Kosmodemonic wants you to do. Well played, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

 Sarah Louise — Earth Bow (Self-Released)

Earth Bow by Sarah Louise

Asheville-based songwriter Sarah Louise wants to be your personal nature interpreter. The titles of her recordings, from her debut Field Guide through Deeper Woods and Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars are like planetary signposts pointing to a more intimate relationship with our planet as a living organism. With each successive release, her music has also become more and more organic sounding, culminating with Earth Bow, in which Louise herself is arms deep in humus, communing with birds and insects. Recordings of creation feature prominently; katydids, spring peeper frogs, a creek and various birds are credited as providing additional singing, augmenting the artist’s own mellifluous voice. For a recording in which the track titles and lyrics are focused on nature and Louise’s experiences therein, there are a lot of digital elements. Her 12-string guitar is prominent in places, but synths are everywhere: in the background, bouncing around like shooting stars, and mimicking the various fauna that they accompany. Yet the earthly and the machine-made are not juxtaposed, they are blended. The vocals, which center the recordings, tie both elements together nicely. Earth Bow is a tasty concoction, in which a variety of ingredients are married in botanical bliss.

Bryon Hayes

 Le Mav — “Supersonic (Feat. Tay Iwar)” (Immaculate Taste)

Nigeria’s alté scene has been bubbling for a couple of years now on the backs of guys like Odunsi (The Engine) and Santi, and Gabriel Obi bka Le Mav is no stranger to the fray, having produced Santi’s “Sparky,” Aylø and a recurring favorite of his, singer Tay Iwar. The two have already collaborated at length (for songs off Iwar’s debut album Gemini in 2019, as well as the entirety of last year’s Gold EP), so the comfort level here is established. It shows: Iwar’s smooth-as vocals match Le Mav’s breezy piano descent and gentle rhythmic shuffle in an easygoing song that matches anything you might hear coming from Miguel, Frank Ocean or the Sun-El Musician orbit. “If it feels right, touch the sky,” Iwar suggests early on. Well, don’t mind if I do.

Patrick Masterson

 Sugar Minott — “I Remember Mama” (Emotional Rescue)

I Remember Mama by Sugar Minott

At some point after Lincoln Barrington Minott had left Kingston and his early dancehall and lovers rock legacy with Studio One and Black Roots behind for cooler climates and the old world of London, he ran into producer Steve Parr at the Wackies offices. Story goes that the two decided to start up Sound Design Studio with the intent to record and mix for ads, film and music — but scant evidence of this idea exists beyond “I Remember Mama,” released on 7” and 12” in 1985 and reissued for the first time since via Stuart Leath and his long-trusted Emotional Rescue imprint. Parr does most of the work on the recording (Andy MacDonald shines on tenor sax and Paul Uden guitar in the original credits), but it’s all about the sweetness Sugar brings to the table: With backing from two accomplished performers in their own right, Janette Sewell and Shola Phillips, Minott’s naturally relaxed delivery shines through on this. “Sound Design” is a dubbier instrumental version that retains Sewell’s and Phillips’ vocals, and Dan Tyler (half of Idjut Boys) provides an even spacier, handclap-laden 11-minute remix, but while both variants are excellent, the boogie of the original is unassailable. Look for the vinyl to hit in July.

Patrick Masterson

 Jessica Ackerley — Morning/mourning (Cacophonous Revival)

Morning/mourning by Jessica Ackerley

It makes sense that Wendy Eisenberg wrote the liner notes to Morning/mourning, since they and Jessica Ackerley are bound by a shared commitment to string-craft. Both have a deep idiomatic foundation in jazz guitar, but neither is willing to be confined by what they’ve learned. In the case of Morning/mourning, that means that patiently paced ruminations upon Derek Bailey-like harmonics sit side by side with frantic but rigorously scripted forays that sound a bit like Jim Hall might if he input the contents of his French press intravenously. This album’s nine tracks observe passings and new beginnings, since Ackerley pulled the recording together while in quarantine, shortly before leaving Manhattan for Honolulu, and titled some of them in tribute to a pair of guitar teachers who were taken by 2020. But in their attention to tone, harmony, velocity and structure, these pieces, like Eisenberg’s records, speak as much to intellect as to emotion.

Bill Meyer

 Nadja & Disrotted — Split (Roman Numeral Records)

It makes a certain kind of sense for Nadja and Disrotted to tackle a split together; although both bands traffic in a particularly foreboding strain of doom metal, they also share a weird sort of comfort. There’s a sense more of horrible things happening around you than to you, like you’re in the eye of the storm or maybe in a bathysphere plunged to crushing depths. There is a precision to the menace, a measured quality to the noise. And they get there when they get there; as Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw pointed out in his review of Disrotted’s Cryongenics, “Pace seems to be the point.” This excellent split doesn’t shy away from these commonalities while still highlighting the distinct timbres of each act, with Nadja settling into and then returning to one of their indelibly titanic bass riffs throughout the 19-minute “From the Lips of a Ghost in the Shadow of a Unicorn's Dream” and Disrotted somehow conjuring the feeling of a massive structure corroding and collapsing on the 15-minute “Pastures for the Benighted”. When the latter slams to a half, one last hit echoing away, the listener may find themselves feeling equally relieved the onslaught is over and kind of missing both sides’ pulverizing embrace.

Ian Mathers 

 Nasimiyu — POTIONS (Figureight)

P O T I O N S by nasimiYu

Nasimiyu’s songs bounce and shimmy with complex rhythms, her background as a dancer and percussionist for Kabells and Sharkmuffin coming through in the intricate interplay of handclaps, breathy beat-boxing, rattling metal implements, all manner of drums and, not least, her lithe, twining vocal lines. “Watercolor” blossoms out of a burst of choral “la”s, each note allowed to flower briefly before behind cut off with a knife-edge; these are organic sounds shaped with mechanical precision. Against this background, Nasimiyu herself enters, her voice fluttery and syncopated, a bit like Neneh Cherry. The mix is full of separate elements, the backing vocals, a synthesizer working as a bass, handclaps, Nasimiyu’s singing, but the song remains light and translucent. “Feelings,” sings Nasimiyu, “I am in my feelings,” and so, for a moment, are we. Nasimiyu is half Kenyan and half Scandinavian-American, and you can hear a bit of East Africa in the surging sweetness of choral singing on “Immigrant Hustle.” But there’s a post-modern gloss over everything, as the singer brings in sonic elements from jazz, electronica, dance, pop and afro-beat. Yet however many layers are added, the sound remains bright and clear, a bead curtain of musical sensation whose elements click faintly as they brush together, but remain essentially separate.

Jennifer Kelly

 Carlos Niño & Friends — More Energy Fields, Current (International Anthem)

More Energy Fields, Current by Carlos Niño & Friends

Multi-instrumentalist and producer Carlos Niño latest album which straddles and largely crosses the line between spiritual jazz and new age ambience features friends from both worlds including Shabaka Hutchings, Jamael Dean, Dntel and Laraaji. Niño, who plays percussion and synthesizer, edited, mixed and produced the album from recordings made in 2019 and 2020 in a variety of settings. The results are largely low-key soundscapes designed to assist meditation on the fields and current of the title. Much evocation of the natural world, chiming eastern influenced percussion and layers of acoustic and synthetic keys that are lovely but tend to lull. It is the slightly disruptive reeds that prick the ears here, Aaron Hall’s plangent tenor on “Now the background is foreground,” Devin Daniels’ alto phrasing on “Together” and Hutchings’ expressive duet with Dean on “Please, wake up.”

Andrew Forell 

 Shane Parish — Disintegrated Satellites (Bandcamp subscription)

Disintegrated Satellites EP by Shane Parish

The normally ultra-productive Shane Parish didn’t put out a lot of music in 2020, and none of what did come out was recorded that year. It turns out that he was busy giving guitar lessons via zoom and moving from North Carolina to Georgia, but we’re well into a new year and he’s back in Bandcamp. This three tune EP doesn’t declare a new direction, of which Parish has had many, so much as an integration of his interests in American folk music and far Eastern tonalities. Simultaneously familiar and alien, but above all propulsive, it serves notice that the time for reflection has passed.

Bill Meyer 

 Séketxe — “Caixão de Luxo” (Chasing Dreams)

The thing that gets your attention about Séketxe is… well, everything: how many of them there are (i.e., how you can’t really tell who’s in the group and who isn’t), how they’re all propellant, a musical bottle rocket bursting out of your speakers, confrontationally in your face on camera — and how much fun it looks like they’re having. Somewhere out there beyond the reaches of kuduro and Mystikal lie the Angolan barks and rasps of this youthful sextet, who trade verses (and a soothing harmony drizzled right across the madness at around 1:40) among one another over an Eddy Tussa sample on a beat by producer about town Smash Midas. What are they on about? My Portuguese is nonexistent, let alone my Luandan slang, but even I can tell that title translates to “luxury casket.” Anyway, it’s bonkers and if you’re looking for a jolt your morning joe doesn’t deliver anymore, Séketxe oughta do it. You’ll never catch me thanking an algorithm, but I guess it’s true the maths can serve it up right every once in a while. Séketxe is the proof.

Patrick Masterson 

 Tōth — You and Me and Everything (Northern Spy)

You And Me And Everything by Tōth

The title of Alex Toth’s solo debut, Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary, alludes to his belief in music as therapy — that there’s an alchemy in the process, yet one that can’t necessarily be depended on to pull you out of an emotional hole when that hole gets too deep. On his new album, You and Me and Everything, all of his recent personal struggles are out in the open. There’s the tale of when he was so fucked up he couldn’t play trumpet at a family funeral (“Turnaround (Cocaine Song)”); there’s leaning on songwriting as a means to process the pain of heartbreak (“Guitars are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times”); and there’s his ongoing battle with anxiety (“Butterflies”). While such heavy emotional terrain could prove hard-going, Toth approaches everything with a playfulness, a lightness of touch and a gentle haze to the production. Plus, he gets a helping hand from Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak, Flock of Dimes), who lends backing vocals to standout “Daffadowndilly,” which taps into the woozy gorgeousness of prime Robert Wyatt.

Tim Clarke 

 Mara Winter — Rise, follow (Discreet Editions)

Rise, follow by Mara Winter

For people with busy performance schedules, 2020 posed a problem; how do you stay busy and creative when you can’t do what you usually do? Mara Winter, an American-born, Swiss-based flute player who specializes in Renaissance-era repertoire and instruments, used it to forge a new creative identity. In partnership with experimental composer and multi-instrumentalist Clara de Asís, she began exploring the commonalities between early, composed music and contemporary approaches and developed a platform to disseminate documents of that research into the world. Rise, follow, the inaugural release of Discreet Editions, is an hour-long piece for two Renaissance-style bass flutes played by Winter and Johanna Bartz. The two musicians played long, overlapping tones with contrast attacks, pushing on until they grew so tired from hefting those woodwinds that they just couldn’t play anymore. Effectively the performance unit is a trio, since the two musicians had to accommodate or collaborate with the reverberant acoustics of Basel’s Kartäuserkirche. The church’s echo threw sounds back at the player, turning pure tones into blurred timbres. While the instrumentation is antique, the ideas about sound combination and endurance have more to do with Morton Feldman, Phill Niblock and Aíne O’Dwyer. The result is music that is simultaneously meditative and as heavy as a bench-pressing competition.

Bill Meyer

 Wurld Series — What’s Growing (Melted Ice Cream)

What's Growing by Wurld Series

Some reviewers of What’s Growing, the second album by New Zealand’s Wurld Series, have managed to avoid making Pavement comparisons, but it’s hard to fathom their restraint. Brief opener “Harvester” feels like you’re being dropped mid-solo into a random Wowee Zowee track; the guitar tone on lead single “Nap Gate,” on the other hand, sounds like it's nicked straight from Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. And while singer/guitarist Luke Towart doesn’t attempt to match Malkmus’ flamboyance in the vocal delivery department, their voices and wry lyrical observations bear a distinct resemblance to one another. “Caught beneath a dull blade / What a mess that would make” he sings on “Distant Business” before the song reaches its finale where guitar solos blast off from atop other guitar solos in an array of complementary textures. But besides being a ridiculously fun guitar pop record, What’s Growing is also threaded through with a British psych folk vibe replete with Mellotron flute — and the two styles blend seamlessly together thanks to Towart’s partner in crime, producer/drummer Brian Feary (Salad Boys, Dance Asthmatics). So, whether you're looking for a great summer indie rock record or you’ve ever wondered what the Fab Five from Stockton might’ve sounded like if they’d stuck to short songs and had more flutes, this one’s for you.

Chris Liberato

[themusicenthusiast]

Friday, March 29th, 2019 – Hozier Leads Fans on a Compelling Trek Through the Wasteland as the Wasteland, Baby! Tour Hits Dallas

Photos by Jordan Buford Photography South Side Ballroom has hosted plenty of sold-out shows during it’s time, some stellar talent gracing the stage just in the past year and packing out the venue that can accommodate a couple thousand or so people. However, it had been a while since a show had taken place there with the sheer amount of excitement that enveloped the one occurring on this final Friday of March 2019. Andrew Hozier-Byrne, or as he is professionally known, Hozier, was returning to Dallas for the first time in roughly four years. Four years that have seen the artist growing more and more acclaimed, his successes most recently culminating with the release of his highly anticipated second studio album, Wasteland, Baby! (out via Rubyworks Ltd./Columbia Records). Nearly three weeks in to the North American leg of the Wasteland, Baby! Tour and Hozier and his band were finally getting to North Texas for a performance that likely could have taken place at place even more spacious than South Side Ballroom. No fans were complaining about it though, recognizing this was surely the last chance they would ever have to see Hozier in a venue whose layout boasts some sort of intimacy with the artist. They had been anticipating this for quite some time; the line to get in snaking from the door to the street a ways behind the venue, down it and into the parking lot where it continued to zig and zag. The staff worked to get people in as quickly as they could, making the wait time more than acceptable, yet the line consistently stayed the same as more people arrived and joined. And that was even before when the doors had been scheduled to open at seven, more than a couple hours yet to go before Hozier would ever take the stage. Those attendees were comprised almost exclusively of a young demographic, from teens to early twenty-somethings – a few parents seen bringing their kids to what was surely the concert of the year in their eyes – and of those it was largely a female fanbase whose adoration for Hozier was readily apparent. Jade Bird commented about that stark contrast as she warmed up the audience, asking the ladies in the crowd to make some noise followed by having the guys do the same. She made a quip about them being outnumbered, grinning as she spoke. It was just her, armed with nothing more than an acoustic guitar as the young, British singer-songwriter treated listeners to some bare-bones renditions of her songs, giving them a preview of sorts of her debut LP that is due out in April. Patrons highly enjoyed what Bird did, though by the time she was done they were ready to get to the main act. Fortunately, they didn’t have long to wait. Hozier and his accompanying ensemble cast of musicians (seven in all) took the stage at 9:01, deafening fanfare officially welcoming them to Dallas.

As Hozier’s music is built on a foundation of impassioned emotions, so, too, was the performance he gave, and it was aided by a quality of production that was phenomenal, rivaling the level of what is expected from an arena show. Nothing extravagant, it was just a rich, luscious display that captivated the senses, accenting the music so that the songs felt bolder and stronger than they already were. It was noticeable as they took the stage, flickers of light barely illuminating the outlines of each musician. Soon, Hozier’s gentle plucking of the strings of his acoustic guitar rang out through the room, “Would That I” beginning the 81-minute display they had planned. As they progressed the center stage gradually filled with light, revealing the man of the hour for all to see; the climatic and impassioned choruses bringing more of the band into focus as short bursts of light struck them. An enthralling atmosphere had been established by that opening number, and to say it felt spiritual – sonically and visually speaking – would not be an understatement. The stark contrast of that track as it ebbed and flowed between something tranquil and beautifully striking was wonderous, and Hozier would only build upon that, seizing that moment to further immerse the audience in the spectacle that he had planned.

Several members of his backing band served in multiple roles, such as Rachel Beauregard and Kristen Rogers, both of whom had provided backing vocals for that opening number, and afterwards approached the front of the stage where they contributed to the percussion and keys, respectively. It was with “Dinner & Diatribes” where one was able to better appreciate the intricacies of Hozier’s music, given that everyone was able to see just how much effort goes into bringing the expectations from the recording to life. Everyone’s role was vital; most of the musicians clapping along with the percussion when they could, encouraging the spectators to do the same, which they did with glee. With that track Hozier and company made it apparent just what a force to be reckoned with they were, the energy skyrocketing off the charges, Hozier himself finding a moment to just wail on his guitar with absolute ferocity. They were in top performing shape thanks to being well into the current tour, their chemistry binding everything together as they really hit their stride with plans to go beyond it.

Quickly escalating with those first couple numbers, it all culminated with “Nina Cried Power”, the powerhouse, anthemic track being an ideal song for the live environment. Only occasionally did Hozier play a guitar during that one, instead embracing and owning the role of frontman for the only real moment of the show. He did carry his guitar along with him, holding it to his side and even lifting it slightly in the air, but for the most part he roamed about the stage and belted out every line with immense passion. The connection he had to that song was obvious, the emotions that went into it bleeding through on his face; the subtle movements, such as the little gestures of the hand that he did, being quite keen, and as minute a detail as that was it went a long way in further thrilling the crowd. What was so surprising about that was how strongly the spectators reacted to that first handful of songs. Wasteland, Baby! has only been out for a couple of months, yet those songs already seemed to be as beloved as those from his debut LP. It’s a reaction seldom had, one where fans of any artist or act enjoy the new material as much as what they’ve become so familiar with, and it speaks to the respect and even loyalty that Hozier’s fans have for him. That said, they loved hearing the couple classics that immediately followed, after which Hozier declared the crowd to be one of the most enthusiastic and simply best audiences that they had ever played to. Fearing that could be construed as just a statement he stressed his sincerity about it, the slight state of awe over the amount of love he and his band were being shown affirming how genuine he intended that comment to be.

The stage was awash with brilliant pastel lighting for “Talk”, piercing through what was otherwise darkness, the faint outlines of the majority of the band members being all that was noticeable; while “From Eden” drew a joyous response from the crowd once they discerned what it was from Hozier’s picking at the acoustic guitar he had switched out to. Perhaps one of the neatest things about this show was how Hozier worked to make it feel like an intimate affair by injecting a bit of a storyteller vibe into it. For example, in setting up the title track he spoke of what a “weird time” it had been when he first began writing for this new record, around the time that 2016 had ended. In case anyone had forgot, he reminded them that was the year a seemingly abnormal amount of celebrities – and musicians in particular – passed away, which in turn had him thinking about the end. Thus, “Wasteland, Baby!” was born, a gorgeous song that alludes to the fragile and fleeting nature of existence; the band being pared down to a trio for that primarily acoustic piece.

It was followed by another new song as well as a story to accompany it, Hozier speaking of a type of bird known as a shrike. Rightfully assuming that most were unfamiliar with the species he described some of their habits, like how they impale insects or small animals on things, even hanging them on what could be called a hook, earning them the nickname of “butcher bird”. “…They’re a beautiful bird, but also horrifying… So, I thought it would be an appropriate name for a love song,” he finished, earning a hearty laugh from the onlookers. The subdued “Shrike” portrayed Hozier and company in a different light; Suzanne Santo, who was on guitar duty for most of the night switching out to a violin, the restrained nature of that strikingly lovely track putting more focus on Hozier’s voice and the vast range he commands so impeccably well.

Patrons were elated to hear “To Be Alone”; the hypnotic drum beats Rory Doyle steadily served up enrapturing all, some clapping along ensuing before a portion of the second chorus was ceded to the fans, who shouted it at the top of their lungs. “Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)” also stood out as a fan favorite of the night, the song being so much more than what is portrayed on the recording. Amazingly intense, it allowed for arguably the most raw, primal moment of the night, Hozier proving he has all of the hallmarks of a bonafide rock star. It was straight up rock ‘n’ roll, a seductive beat and gritty guitar riffs ensuring it was a beast; the dazzling display of lights that went with it adding to the impressive scale. Adding some insight to “Almost (Sweet Music)”, Hozier explained it was about attempting to “escape the inescapable”, speaking of how music establishes a lasting connection to whatever a person is experiencing in their life at that moment, and who they were with. That really seemed to resonate with everyone, as that is one of greatest powers that music has: providing a tether to every crucial moment of one’s past, be it wonderful or awful.

The closer came abruptly, “Take Me to Church” catching everyone off-guard in the most wonderful way. Mainly, it was just difficult to believe that the night was already over. Unexpected as it was, the couple thousand people hastily got on the same page, echoing along to every last word of the now classic breakout hit; a collective shriek filling the room in the latter part, Hozier having jumped into the pit in front of the stage, getting as up close and personal as he possibly could with the lucky fans who had scored a spot at the front. A phenomenal display on all fronts, Hozier wasn’t quite done with Dallas, a couple songs planned for the 10-minute long encore. They weren’t done dazzling, either, “Work Song” showcasing another gorgeous side of the collective talent gathered on stage, as they nearly all harmonized with one another, the layers of the vocals being astounding, resulting in a stunning finish to what had been a concert for the ages.

Hozier definitely has a throng of ardent supporters, but on the other hand, there are still just as many people out there who probably view him simply as the man who performs “Take Me to Church”. He is so much more than just the guy who crafted one massive chart-topping single, though. I’ll confess, even I was inclined to believe that notion prior to this night, but this performance totally revolutionized my perceptions of Hozier. The level of artistry he possessed was jaw-dropping, epitomizing what a legitimate artist is throughout every second of the performance. Whether he’s sweetly crooning on a more tender balled or investing everything into belting out something more spirited his voice is phenomenal and brimming with emotion. His guitar work may have been secondary for him, though when he was able to dedicate more of his focus to it his chops were readily apparent; and those rare moments where he acted solely as a frontman he stood as a vigorous one.

Furthermore, he is a true singer-songwriter, and in an age where it has become more prevalent for musicians to perform music that was written by a third-party, you have to respect that. Because of that, there’s a more personal connection formed, the life events that led to these songs and how much they really meant to Hozier being noticeable as he performed them, as if baring a portion of his soul for all to see. Hozier is the kind of talent that comes around about once a generation. Considering how relatively new he still is it’s remarkable how refined his talents are, already carrying himself and executing the songs in a manner that makes it appear as if he has spent a lifetime doing this. Yet he’s remained humble enough to still be slightly shocked over the reaction people have to his music, which is refreshing to see.

As high as fans’ expectations were going in to the concert this night, they were exceeded. The band he has surrounded himself with was responsible for part of that, all being top tier talent who fleshed out the music perfectly and made sure to invigorate the audience to boot. However, a lot of credit for that needs to go to the crew as well, especially those in charge of the lighting. A key element of any show, the production for this one was stunning. It worked in brilliant harmony with the music, allowing the songs to sound bolder and more emotive. It was artistic, further accenting the artistry that went into the performance. A once in a lifetime talent, it’s easy to envision Hozier moving up to arenas of various scales in the near future. And based on what he gave Dallas this night, he’d have no trouble commanding a crowd of thousands upon thousands of people. In fact, I’d be quite interested to see how the performance would be elevated for venues of that scale, because as much as he offered up on this Friday night, Hozier still has so much to give to the world. This North American leg of the Wasteland, Baby! Tour will run through April 14th, when it will conclude in Spokane, WA at First Interstate Center for the Arts. Other stops include The Pearl in Las Vegas, NV on April 7th and Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles, CA on April 9th. Most of the shows are already sold-out. They’ll return to the U.S. in May and June for shows in the south and mid-west, including a performance at Hangout Festival in Gulf Shores, AL on May 17th. A complete listing of Hozier’s upcoming events can be found HERE; and check out Wasteland, Baby! in iTUNES or GOOGLE PLAY. Set List: 1) “Would That I” 2) “Dinner & Diatribes” 3) “Nina Cried Power” 4) “Jackie and Wilson” 5) “Someone New” 6) “Talk” 7) “From Eden” 8) “Wasteland, Baby!” 9) “Shrike” 10) “No Plan” 11) “To Be Alone” 12) “Nobody” 13) “Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)” 14) “Almost (Sweet Music)” 15) “Movement” 16) “Take Me to Church” Encore 17) “Cherry Wine” (acoustic, solo) 18) “Work Song”

[porkchop-ao3]

Idk if you’re taking fic requests but maybe some holiday time Christmassy Flesh Curtains Rick where he admits he has some feelings for reader and some smut??? I’m up obscenely early and this is what tired brain wants to request.

I hope this satisfies your needs :P

-

I gingerly sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, careful as to not wake up the man sleeping next to me. I stretched before getting up, rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor to find my t-shirt and panties. Once I was semi-decent, I reached under my bed to pull out my weekend bag, and got to work packing. I’d left it to the last minute, of course. I was due to leave in a couple of hours to make the drive to my parents house, and I hadn’t even thought about packing until now. I tossed clothes into the bag haphazardly, feeling groggy and hungover from the night before.

Rick and I had attended a friend’s Christmas party, and had stumbled home together during the early hours of the morning, completely wasted, but not too drunk to screw around a little before crashing. My memories were hazy, but I had flashes of being fucked from behind up against the bathroom sink, of all places. I seemed to recall that we were gonna take a bath for some reason? Who knows. Things got crazy when Rick, alcohol and I hung out together.

I reached for my hair-dryer, figuring it might be useful to bring along just in case, and clumsily threw the thing onto the floor with a loud clatter.

“The fuck?” Rick groaned, peeling his face up from the pillow he was drooling on and looking over to me.

“Aw, shit. I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.” I apologized, picking the hair-dryer up with a sigh and stuffing it into the bag.

“You tyrin’a sneak out on me? Surely th-that’s my job, we’re in your house.” He chuckled, rolling onto his back to look at me. He reached for he cigarettes on the bedside table, and lit one up.

“I have to leave soon, I’m doing Christmas with my parents.” I told him, and my tone just said it all. He rose a brow at me.

“And that's… bad, right?” He asked, blowing out smoke with every word. I nodded.

“It’s just gonna be them tossing snide, passive aggressive remarks at one another all day, because they haven’t loved each other for fifteen years but are too scared to get a fucking divorce. Then my mother’s gonna get plastered, probably cry for some reason, and I’ll be stuck listening to her shit all night.” I grumbled, tossing my bag on the floor and walking back to the bed, falling onto it face first with a groan. “It’s the same every year.” I mumbled into the sheets.

“Then don’t go.” He said simply, and I lifted my head to narrow my eyes at him.

“Oh, I’ll never hear the end of it.” I said, and Rick rolled his eyes.

“Tell ‘em you made oth-other plans.” He shrugged.

“And then what? Stay at home all day, have myself a microwave dinner and get drunk on mulled fucking wine on my own?” I suggested, and Rick snorted.

“Ooor… we could do that together. Just you and me.” He countered, and I stared at him for a while, not really sure how to respond.

“I thought you were gonna spend Christmas with Birdperson and Squanchy.” I said, and he flicked the end of his cigarette into the ashtray before taking a deep drag.

“Yeah, that’s not happening anymore. Something came up.” He said, a hint of sadness in his tone that he tried to hide with indifference. I shifted my position, sitting cross legged on the bed. “Besides. They don’t even celebrate it, they only played along for my sake.”

“Well, I don’t want you to spend Christmas on your own.” I told him, and he gave me an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for pity, or what-whatever. If you’d rather spend Christmas refereeing your parents’ bitching matches, then be my guest. Christmas isn’t- it’s just another day for me.” He blew smoke in my direction, then stubbed out his cigarette. “It was just an idea.”

“I’m not pitying you. I’m just surprised, spending Christmas together makes it seem like…” I paused, not really knowing where that sentence was going. Rick waited, staring at me expectantly. “Well, it’s what couples do, isn’t it?”

“And that’s weird, because?”

“It’s hardly like… we aren’t really…” I avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze.

“We just spent all night fucking.” He pointed out. “An-and that happens a lot. You- what do you think we are? Just, just buddies?”

“Fuck buddies seems a little more apt.” I said in a small voice.

“Fuck buddies.” Rick repeated, and laughed. “Alright, I guess that makes sense.”

“What, do you have a different view of what this is?”

“No. No, fuck buddies is fine.” He said, climbing out of bed and pulling on his boxer briefs. He turned to me, adjusting his junk. “I’m gonna go, I don’t mind spending tomorrow alone. It’s just a day, it’s not special.” He told me, and I stared at him in concern.

“If we aren’t fuck buddies then what are we?” I asked, and he gave me a funny look.

“I never said we weren’t.”

“No, but your face did. You aren’t happy. Talk to me.” I crawled across the bed, coming close to him. I pulled him forwards by his wrist and stared up at him. He frowned at me for a long while, before finally deciding to speak. For once, I didn’t have to plead and plead for him to open up to me.

“I don’t know, I just thought we were past that.” He shrugged. “Cause I am, at least.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, and he groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Don’t make me say it. Are you really gon-gonna make me say it?” He whined, and I let him go, plopping back down onto my ass. I looked at him expectantly, and he sighed. “You aren’t just a good fuck to me; I thought I made it obvious. Y-you know, I drag you all over the goddamn universe when I’m on tour, I spend like ninety percent of my spare time with you, I haven’t fucked anyone other than you in months.”

“Really? I thought… I mean there’s so many groupies. So many gorgeous women… and men. Hell, and everything in between. You haven’t been taking advantage of that?” I gaped, honestly surprised by this revelation.

“No. How, uh, how’s the saying go? Why go out for burgers when you’ve got steak at home?” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. His words flattered me, and I felt my face get hot. “It gets boring anyway, fucking someone different every night. Sometimes you don’t wanna just fuck, you want-” he stopped and sighed heavily. “You want familiarity. Trust, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Oh, I see.” I whispered, staring up at him in awe. He squirmed under my gaze.

“What, that’s it? Stop staring at me like that. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” He grumbled, picking up his loose fitting tank top and pulling it over his head. “You want me to say that- that you’re special, or some bullshit like that?”

“No. I just want to hear your true feelings for once. You’re always so tight lipped.”

“Feelings? T-take your pick. Part of me wants to throttle you cause you’re never fucking satisfied with what I give you, you’re always prodding me for more, tryin'a coax it out of me.” he complained, fastening his leather choker around his neck. “And I don’t hear you- you’re not exactly forthcoming with your own 'feelings’.”

“Yeah, cause I don’t wanna make you run a mile.” I snorted.

“You’d have to try pretty hard.” He replied, pulling his tight pants on, one leg at a time as he hopped, unbalanced. Once he was dressed, he approached me and kneeled on the bed, cupping my face in his hands. “Don’t make me say it. As soon as I say it, things are gonna change and I don’t want them to.”

“I don’t want to assume what 'it’ is, Rick. Just fucking tell me. Things aren’t going to change.” I whispered. Rick leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue probing for access that I granted. He backed me up further onto the bed, his hands gently guiding me onto my back, he handled me like china; and it was very out of character. He moved his lips to my jaw, nipping and sucking as he traveled to my neck.

“Promise me.” He said into my skin, not looking up at me.

“Okay.” I whispered.

“Say it. Promise me things aren’t going to change between us. I like things exactly the way they are.”

“I do too, Rick. I promise, things won’t change.” I assured him, bringing my hands up to his hair, lacing my fingers through it. He sat up abruptly, wrenching my hands away from him. He hungrily stared down at my body, grabbing my legs and lifting them so they rested over his shoulders. I gasped at his sudden forcefulness, it was such a contrast to his previous touch. He bent down, tonguing the band of my panties into his mouth, and pulling on them with his teeth. I lifted my hips as I watched him drag my underwear down my legs with his teeth, he stared me in the eyes the whole time. I felt weak.

Once I was free of my panties, Rick ran kisses down the insides of my legs, kisses that turned to bites when he reached my thighs. He sucked on my flesh, bringing up tender little splotches. He reached a hand between my legs, parting my folds and taking moment to admire the view. His middle finger rubbed teasingly over my clit, barely any pressure. I pressed my lips together, exercising my patience and trying not to beg him.

My patience was rewarded, because soon his mouth was on me, dotting kisses over my opening, his tongue poking out and flicking fast. I shuddered and grunted; it wasn’t a particularly ladylike sound but goddamn it I couldn’t help it. Rick soon eased off though, moving his lips to my lower abdomen, kissing, tonguing, and otherwise lavishing me with affection. I mewled in disappointment, and Rick pushed my t-shirt further up, exposing my breasts. He cupped them, rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger as he buried his face in my stomach, moaning softly. He said something, and I couldn’t make it out because his voice was so muffled.

“What?” I asked, embarrassingly out of breath. One of his hands moved back down my body, a finger slipped inside me, easily finding my g-spot. He stroked, the stimulation direct and well practiced; he knew how to please me.

“I love you.” He said in response, his voice still muffled but clear enough that I definitely didn’t mishear him.

“You-” I started, tensing up around his finger. He stilled, before removing it altogether. “No you don’t.”

“I do.” He argued, lifting his head to look at me. He pulled my legs off of his shoulders and settled between them, sliding up my body so our faces were level. I got about four seconds of eye contact before his face was pressed into my neck and his hips were rolling. I couldn’t concentrate on how good it felt to have his clothed hard on grinding against my bare pussy.

“You’ve never said that. Don’t say that if it’s just a heat of the moment thing.” I breathed, clutching onto the back of his shirt.

“I mean it.” He said, reaching for his pants. He pulled his cock free. “That’s the thing- that’s what I didn’t wanna say. Don’t make this harder.”

“Oh my God.” I said, wrapping my legs around him when he stroked the head of his length against my opening. “Shit, Rick… I didn’t think you- I thought that wasn’t your thing. I thought this was just a bit of fun for you.”

“It was.” He huffed, dipping the head of his cock inside me, pulling back just as fast; like he was resisting the urge to fuck me. “But shit, I guess things change, huh?”

“Fuck, Rick… I feel the same.” I admitted, tightening my legs around his waist, effectively pulling him inside me. “I have for so fucking long but I never said anything, I didn’t wanna push my luck.” I laughed breathlessly, and Rick began to move. He thrust fast, not wasting any time.

“Mm, I love you.” He repeated those words, and it gave me a pleasurable burst in my gut, a fluttery, giddy feeling that had me groaning.

“I love you.” I said it back, squeezing him tight as he fucked me. His pace was relentless, it was desperate, indulgent, he wasn’t holding a damn thing back and I was glad about it. He kissed me, tonguing me with an eagerness I’d never felt from him before.

“I want you, I want- fuck. I want you to myself.” He told me. Faster and faster, I’d never been fucked so fast. My mouth hung open and I could only nod. “Forever, baby. We’re gonna- it’s just gonna be me and you.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck… please don’t stop.” I begged, he looked me in the eye; his gaze was intense. Possessive and lustful, I gorged on that expression, soaking it in and surrendering to him.

“I’m not gonna stop, baby, I’ve got you.” He cooed, shifting his hips so he rubbed up against my clit. It sent me over the edge in a flash, my orgasm came out of nowhere and my whole body was alight. Pleasure rippled through me, and I moaned Rick’s name over and over, my climax felt never ending. “That’s it. So good, I love it when you cum on my cock like that- fuck.” He growled, his thrusts becoming erratic.

Rick finished inside me soon after, his cock throbbed and twitched inside me as he filled me, glorious animalistic grunts met my ears and I laid back and took everything from him. He pulled out and sat back on his heels, parting my lips and watching his cum drip out of me, chewing on his lip and groaning quietly.

“Rick, what does this mean for us?” I asked after the atmosphere calmed, and he looked up at me with gorgeous, soft eyes.

“That w-we’re on the same page.” He said kicking off his pants lazily as he laid down on his side next to me. “Nothing’s changing. We agreed on that.”

“Okay. Good.” I whispered.

“Except maybe we’re gonna do this even more.” He added with a deep chuckle, stroking a hand over my stomach. I turned my head and grinned at him. Silence fell, and we laid there just looking at each other for a long time. I was the one to speak first.

“Let’s spend tomorrow together.”

“We can make Christmas pizza. With turkey on it and shit.” He suggested, his face lighting up with a content smile.

“Oh man, that sounds good.” I made a sound of appreciation, my mouth watering at the idea. “I feel like I’m gonna enjoy Christmas a lot more this year.”

[sawthingsiimagined]

A New Me - 2

We Can’t Be Friends

JACE

It felt like old times. I was so happy. Here we are again at a Diner the night before I open for the musical sensation Miguel. It was reminiscent of the night I shared the first time I met my crew the night before our first show with the superstar pop group SASSY. This time I knew most of the crew and over the last 2 days had grown to enjoy the new additions. I was both nervous and excited about opening for Miguel. I had grown to love his music a couple of years back and won’t lie, his music made me think sexual thoughts. I was anxious to see him perform his music live and prayed that my set was impressive to the fans since I would be the first act they would experience the night of his show. Talking to my grandad, the Bishop, and my parents back home reassured me that things would be fine. They informed me that they wouldn’t be able to attend the first show, as they did when Jada and I performed our first show on the SASSY tour but the assured me they would attend a show soon. I understood because Jada was currently dealing with her pregnancy news and grandpa was still recovering from his heart attack. 

The seating chart at the table reminded me so much of the night I joined my crew at the diner and had my first drink, as well as first drunken night. I didn’t plan to get as drunk as I did that time but I was definitely planning on celebrating. My music was great, the show was going to be great, I felt great and I looked great. I was growing more confident being alone on the road without my sister. This solo gig may just work in my favor. I was wearing some grey-washed, skinny jean shorts with an oversized marble colored tank top and some white Yeezy Boosts. I had cut the sides of my hair and let the top grow back out longer than my previous haircut. My hair was in a slick man-bun and I was definitely feeling myself. Beside me was TJ, my bro who was currently drunk and talking loud as ever, on the other side of me was my new assistant Ashley, Mona’s niece who was a gorgeous girl with squinty eyes, soft copper skin tone and a stylish short hairstyle. She was a little tomboyish but in a very chic way that accented her shape and feminine features. Also at the table was my new stylist, Bryson a very attractive guy with a weird sense of fashion. He had about 6 piercings and tattoos along his neck and the sleeve of his arm. He was Dominican and bilingual, rocking a goatee with a mustache that complimented his full pink lips and slick bald head that made him look like a trendsetter. I was excited to learn a lot from him about being myself and embracing who I really was. The band also came to dine with me and across from me was...him. Demarion really knocked the wind out of me in ways I couldn’t prepare for me. A part of me wishes I would have suggested more ladies be a part of the crew. All of these males working for me really played with my imagination especially since they behaved as if they were indebted to me. Still, no one mattered on this crew like Demarion did. He was wearing a vintage, navy Atlanta Braves baseball jersey which he left the top four buttons unbuttoned to expose his chest and top set of abs. He also was wearing a fitted cap that covered his eyes, although I could still see them. We made a lot of eye contact sitting at the table. He had grown a beard since we started rehearsing for the new tour. It was something about the jet black color of the hair on his face that contrasted against his chocolate colored skin that made me want to risk it all. At this point, I had admitted that I was VERY attracted to him. I still hadn’t identified with gay, bi or curious. I wasn’t quite aware what each label meant and didn’t want to disrespect either group until I gained proper knowledge. As far as I was concerned I didn’t need a label to tell me that I wanted him. After 2 shots and 2 rounds of 1800 Tequila and pineapple juice, I felt I not only wanted him but I needed him. 

We finished our meals and I paid everyone’s tab thanking them for all of the hard work that I trusted that would deliver for the tour. Everyone jumped in the Mercedes Sprinter that was loaned to us by Miguel so we could all travel together around the city. No sooner as we pulled away from the diner everyone dozed off. The alcohol was definitely was working on us. I fought hard to stay awake. Demarion sat in front of me I noticed that he was still awake so I shot him a text message. I changed my name in his phone so no one would know who he was texting if they happened to see his phone. My name his phone was Dream. His name in my phone was an emoji of the snare drum. 

MY TEXT : “My room or yours? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. I’m anxious”

I saw him jump as he felt his phone vibrate. It was so cute to see him speedily reply after he knew it was me. 

DEMARION’S TEXT: “I’ll come to your room. I didn’t clean up haha”

It’s funny that we text ‘lol’ and ‘haha’ and don’t be laughing. I didn’t even see him laugh but I understood. He lived out of suitcase and usually had clothing items thrown all over his hotel room. 

MY TEXT: “Thanks my friend”

I noticed he titled his head to the side and stared into space. I checked my message to see if I said something wrong. I didn’t see an error. 

The sprinter pulled into the hotel and once parked everyone immediately piled out, Demarion leading the way. Before I could step out the door closed in front of me also slamming on my leg. I looked through the window and saw Demarion talking to Walter, our driver/audio guy. I tried to open the door but it was locked. I was about to get annoyed because I figured they forgot about me and I just bought all of them food. I was too drunk for the shenanigans. I suddenly noticed Demarion hopping in the front seat and cranking up the ignition. 

“Um.. excuse me. Where are we going?” I said with a confused attitude. 

He looked at me through the rearview mirror with a serious face. 

“I want to take my Friend somewhere is that cool,” he replied with a flat tone. 

“Man I didn’t mean anything by that,” I said noticing that’s what offended him about my text. I sat back in my seat and he pulled into traffic. We road in silence for about 15 minutes until we pulled into the loading dock of the auditorium where we’d be performing tomorrow. I was confused. The place was a ghost town. The trucks that carried our tour gear were parked outside but everyone had retreated to the hotel for the night. Demarion parked and jumped out the car. I sat up waiting to see what he was about to do. He opened the back door and climbed inside.

“Scoot over,” he said. 

Without putting up a fuss I obliged but I’d be the one with the next demand. 

“What are we doing. I thought we were going to go to bed in my room. No one..,” I said before he broke my next statement with a kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth. He slightly broke the kiss and begin talking to me in begin kisses. 

“You were right. A pretty boy like you has probably had experiences kissing your friends. That’s all we’ve done is share a kiss. But I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your man. So I wanted to show you the difference real quick. If you let me,” he said in a low whisper tone. It felt like we were in a movie. I was speechless. I could still taste the alcohol on his breath. He had been drinking Hennesy but Demarion never seemed to be drunk so I knew he wasn’t in this moment. He was fully functioning. 

I reached in and kissed him deeply. As if he didn’t like it, he pushed me on my back causing me to lay on the seat. He lifted my legs and reached for the button and zipper of my shorts. 

OMG! I was not ready for this. I’m not going to lie, I wanted him but I was a virgin and I’ve never expressed that to him. I had never been with a guy or girl but I knew what sex with both parties entailed. I was not ready. However, for some reason, I couldn’t put up much of a fight. I let him pull down my shorts followed by navy blue H&M boxer briefs. He reached down and kissed me. 

“Demarion,” I said with my hands on his chest, “I’ve never done this before.”

“So. Neither have I. But I want to with you. Bad,” he said with an evil grin that lit my insides on fire. I don’t know how to do anything but I was going to figure it out. 

He began kissing me on my neck and lifted my tank making a trail with his tongue down to my belly button. I squirmed trying not to make any noises. In all of my years, I had never been touched like this. My private area was hard as a brick. I had never been harder. Before I knew it, he grabbed my thighs from underneath, pulling my knees apart. He lifted my legs high and I clenched my eyes shut to prepare for what I expected to be painful. However, I remembered he still had his jeans on. Next thing I knew he buried his head in between my legs using his tongue to spread my cheeks apart. Afterward, I completely understood what Jhene Aiko meant when she said: “eat the booty like groceries”. At this point, I could no longer hold in my moan. I breathed heavy and let out a moan. That made him go crazy. He started using his tongue faster. I grabbed my privacy to keep it from hitting him on the top of his head. I could no longer feel my toes. He slapped my hands down so they would fall beside me. Without letting up, he started stroking my manhood, slowly and I knew then that I wouldn’t survive the night. No one had EVER touched that area besides me and my mom when she changed my diaper as a baby. I breathed harder and harder trying to contain myself. I felt myself about to climax but I tried to avoid it so I wouldn’t spill my liquid on him. That would be weird. He made the mistake by talking.

“Your friends do this shit to you? Huh? ” he asked him between strokes of his tongue and hand. 

I tried to answer but words wouldn’t leave my throat. 

“So you gonna let me be your man Jace? You gonna let a nigga be your man baby?” he asked a little more aggressive and louder than the last question. 

I managed to find words. “Yea MAN!” I screamed. Before I knew it I climaxed, shooting my load onto the top of his Nike fitted cap and on his hand. I immediately felt embarrassed I had never climaxed so hard. I start shaking involuntarily and he pulled up and leaned down burying his face in my neck while I grabbed on to him. 

“You like that? I ain’t your friend. I’m your man. You got that?” he asked.

Exasperated I answered “Yes.”

He laid on top of me for a few minutes and I felt tears swell in my eye. What did this mean? My heart was beating fast and all I wanted to do was lay here all night. I knew that we would have to leave but I felt something deep for this guy. What should I do? We sat at the arena another hour and he told me how infatuated he was with me and how he wanted to protect me and be the man of my dreams. Only thing is that I never really dreamed of a man but I told him we could attempt to try this together. He would be my first. My first sexual encounter, first boyfriend and possibly first love. I was terrified.

“Oh and I’m sorry for cursing. I know you don’t like that. But just had to let you know I ain’t your lil’ friend,” he said. We both burst into laughter. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We Can’t Be Friends

JADA

It was rather ironic that I was sitting at the airport gate waiting for my flight to board and listening to Adele belt her hit song “Hello”. I was headed to surprise Jace for his first show. I told him that wouldn’t be able to make it because of pregnancy issues but I really wanted to be there for my brother. Besides, the only pregnancy issue I was having is that I didn’t know who the baby’s daddy was. I texted Ernest earlier that day and he agreed to meet me back in Augusta at the end of the week. He seemed to be rather calm about the whole ordeal which caught me off guard because he never expressed interest in me besides my legs being wrapped around his waist. 

I watched the people deboard the plane that I was about to get on. Luckily the flight was not delayed. I caught Spirit flight for cheap and every knows Spirit is notorious for cancellations and delays. I had just realized that I had Adele’s song on repeat when I heard her sing the intro to  “Hello” for the third time. It was at that moment that I noticed him. Q walked off the plane. My heart fell to my feet. He didn’t notice me. I really wasn’t 100% sure that it was him but I gathered my things to get a closer look. He was wearing a gray bomber jacket with gray joggers. He looked rather normal. His sunglasses gave me the impression that he was incognito and I didn’t see anyone with him. I started to second guess myself even more as I followed him closely a few feet away from the gate. I was a silly hoe but not a stupid hoe. I know who I gapped these legs open for. I may don't know his mom’s name but I knew what he looked like. 

I decided to tap him on the shoulder when I was a few inches away from him. Startled he turned around with a frown on his face. It quickly softens when he recognized me. 

“Jada!” he said loudly as if he had seen a ghost. He grabbed my hands and I pulled away. He could tell I was upset.

“Let me explain,” he said.

“You have 5 minutes because my plane is leaving,” I said with my hand on my hip and the neck roll of every woman on Love and Hip Hop when they do their confessional interviews. 

“I’ve been calling you. I told Jace to let you know,” he said. 

“You what? Wait. You talked to Jace?” I asked. 

“Yes briefly. Look do you trust me?” he asked. 

“HELL NO NIGGA! HELL YOU MEAN?” I shrieked. I was almost embarrassed at my reaction but this boy almost had me killed and then went ghost on me and now I may be pregnant with his baby. What is trust? 

“Look come with me. Where are you going? I can get you another flight,” he pleaded. I could tell by his eyes that he was desperate. I looked back at my gate watching passengers board and without thinking it through I waved my hand in the direction he was headed to signal that I would go with him. I take it back. I am a stupid hoe. 

We go to the pickup area and I notice one of his crew members standing outside of a black truck. We both get inside. Once we were inside he reached over and hugged me and I begin hitting at him. Tears filled my eyes. He grabbed my hands. 

“Baby! I’m sorry,” he said. “There is so much that happened. There’s so much I didn’t want to introduce you to so fast dealing with me. Look I’m not these other rap niggas out here. I’m street. Real street. So you have to understand, these clothes, my jewelry, and these cars.... that’s the most glamorous shit about me,” he said looking me directly in my eye. 

I started bawling and laid my head in his lap. “I was so worried Q. I didn’t know what to do,” I said in between sobs. 

“To the W,” he said to the driver.

“I know baby. I’m gonna make it up to you. I swear,” he said running his fingers through my hair.

We rode the rest of the way to the hotel in silence. I had driven my car to Atlanta to catch a flight from here to meet up with my brother. Q was the last person I expected to see. Luckily the show wasn’t until tomorrow night so it was possible that I could still make it to support him. 

Once we got to the hotel we went immediately to his room. When we walked in Q went straight the bathroom shutting the door behind him. I sat on the bed and contemplated how I was going to tell him that I was possibly carrying his baby. After a few minutes I heard the shower turn on. ‘This nigga didn’t even say give me a few minutes or nothing’ I thought to myself. A few more minutes went by and I heard him call my name. I called back but he didn’t say anything. I walked to the bathroom door and opened it. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom naked with steam floating around him like he was in some kinky music video. A part of me was turned on and a part of me wanted to slap him for thinking he could whip out the dick and all would be forgotten. But I had something in store for him. 

I looked at him and rolled my eyes.

“Come shower with me. I just got out of jail and hopped on the first flight leaving for Atlanta. I came here to hide for a few days until the press dies down. A nigga feels dirty. Come help me get clean,” he said grabbing his leg....and by leg I mean the tree trunk of a dick between his legs. I felt my nipples harden and my garden moisten. I took off my clothes and proceeded to join him in the shower. 

“Q you know I was almost killed messing around with you?” I asked sincerely. 

“Yes, I know. And they were looking for you after the fact as well to try and get back at me. But I got you. Ok?” he said. I scoffed. 

“I said OK?” he repeated himself.

“I’m not a damn child,” I said pushing away from him. 

“You’re not a child. Because if you were I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he said reaching from behind me palming one of my breasts and using another hand to find the gateway to heaven between my legs. I was sold. “But you are my baby,” he said in my ear before taking it in his mouth. I let out a soft moan while he fingered me. The warm water running over my body stimulated me more. Before I could think further, he inserted himself inside of me from behind. It had been a while since I had sex so it hurt in a pleasureable way. He enjoyed how tigh I was becuase I could hear him trying to surpress his moans. He picked up my right leg to help balance himself and to give me the death stroke. I literally felt like my soul was leaving my body. If it was possible he would possibly get me pregant again tonight.

I thought about how much I wanted to understand him and how I really would rather him be the father of my child more than Ernest. Before I knew if he grabbed my hair and begin growling. I knew he had climaxed. For the first time having sex with him I did not. My mind must have been elsewhere. I pullled away from him and used a towel to lather soap and begin washing our bodies. He kissed me in between wipes and told me that I was his Queen and shit. He also excused himself for climaxing so fast. Something about him not jerking off because he had been in jail and the sight of me made him horny. Eye roll. 

I decided to wait until the morning to tell him the news. It was already late so I knew that there were no more departing flights but I was for sure getting on a plane to see my brother at Q’s expense. He flew out on me, I’m going to fly out on him. 

[elmerinolatino-blog]

Andean altiplano adventures (and some seaside and selva)

Dear dear buddies, it`s been a while since I wrote and now that I see the date time has literally FLOWN which means that I`ll be back in three weeks! YES! NO! On the one hand I can`t wait to be back but on the other hand I keep seeing so many beautiful things, landscapes, that I just don`t want to leave. Anyway. I got my flight, for the 13th of June, so be ready for my existence to pollute/beautify your life again.

Last time I wrote I ended at the beginning of my journey through Peru, which now seems lightyears away. Holy shit, the amount of stuff I`ve seen and done. A little resumé:

Marinated in lima/Lima

Last time I wrote that I was enjoying the food in Peru. Holy shit yes, Peru is the land of ceviche, which is seafood marinated in lime juice, with a mountain (montón) of herbs, red onion, garlic, chilli.... mmm. I just ate but already getting hungry again. The first week in Peru I spent with my buddy Kenji, and some of his friends. We went to the desert, to a city that could win awards for its ugliness. However, it was set in a beautiful landscape of sand dunes, weirdly contrasting, confusing me as to be wowed by the landscape or appaled by the city. The first thing we did was... binge on ceviche. So so good. Then, one other day, we went for a buggy ride through the sand dunes, basically a rollercoaster on the sand. So much fun, I can only imagine how the driver must have felt (and must feel every time) with adults screaming like kids in a rollercoaster. We also did some sandboarding, fun but kind of unimpressive since you can´t really move and just roll down, basically. In the evenings we got drunk on cheap cocktails (yes) and went dancing (really improving my booty shaking on reggaeton).

After that, time for Lima. Lima I was absolutely not looking forward to. Another what, 10 million city with crazy traffic and pollution, bah. But it really wasn`t so bad, I actually really enjoyed it. The temperature was perfect (around 25 degrees), there was sun... and compared to other Latin American cities Lima has a great advantage, which is that it`s a coastal city, so that there is some fresh air rolling into the city whenever the wind goes eastwards. And then, yep, there is the seaside, but it´s a highway... are you kidding me?¿?¿?¿ is what I first thought. Then I went for a bike ride up on the cliffs (Lima is built like 80 meters above the sea on a cliff), where there`s parks and green everywhere, and I fell in love. Lima fell in love with me too, because it gave me `a beso frances`... a french coffee and crepes bar with an amazing view ;). Furthermore, my hostel had amazing breakfasts, a super nice rooftop with morning yoga sessions and free ceviche cooking classes. I was living the high life (and not just because of coca).

Then... it was time for my mum`s arrival! WOO! I, stupidly, told that I would take my mom from the airport. Two hours for a journey to pick her up would be enough, I thought, so I left early. Then holy shit traffic was ridiculous, there is no metro in Lima and the metrobus system hasn`t been extended to the airport (yet?), so you`re basically stuck in a traffic jam to and from the airport. Of course this smart cookie had no smartphone to contact mum, and only enough money to go to the airport (not back). We got stuck in traffic and three hours later I was finally at the airport. My mum had been waiting for an hour and was about to leave (her taxi driver was totally chilled and told her to just wait, because obviously I would be stuck in traffic). When they were about to leave I arrived, just saved by the bell. From then on I wouldn`t have to worry about a thing though, because we had a completely arranged trip.

We started off with a tour in Lima`s colonial center. I was again not looking forward to that because Latin America is full of colonial cities, and I have seen quite a few, they`re all similar. In this case I was wrong, Lima was the center of the Spanish Empire and they went BIG, so the colonial architecture was much more impressive (though often in ruins, sadly). We also did some fruit tasting, and wow, Peru has many more fruits that I`ve never seen before than Colombia even. So so nice. I`m still going wild on street stands with smoothies, which are everywhere here, and I wonder why Europe with its health-food snobbery doesn`t do smoothie bars a lot more...

Up, up, up, up, up

After a little stop at the seaside (with islands full of penguins and other birds, shitting so much that the islands are covered in thick thick layers, used for agriculture nowadays...), we made a little stop at the desert town of Nazca, where we did sandboarding and sandbuggying again, saw some ancient graves, etc.

But then we went up to the Altiplano, where I`ve been ever since (with a few breaks). The Altiplano (high plateau) is the area between two Andean mountain ranges and stretches across the southeast of Peru and the west of Bolivia... at 3600-4000m!! Jesus. It`s a place that makes your head hurt if you`re not used to altitude, until you get used to it. It`s also an intriguing place, which is why I`ve been there for more than a month now...

Good. We first had two days of acclimatising in the city of Arequipa at 2500m, where I really started to feel weird already because of the altitude. Then we went up to the Titicaca lake, at 3800m, a ridiculously big lake (around 200km in length). We visited some islands in the lake made of reed, and this story is so bizarre that I still don´t know whether to believe it or not: as the Spanish came to fuck things up in Latin America, some people around the lake decided to flee into the reed (NL: riet), to live there, on floating islands made out of that reed. They survived on fish and reed roots for generations... made reed boats to go around, and even today, they say, there are people who prefer to live on the lake, come off their islands only sometimes to get new food or go to school, and that`s it. What the hell! We visited an island on the lake and they explained to us how that works, making an island out of reed. The whole time I was just stupefied and wondering how crazy I would go if I would live on a 100m2 island on a lake.

Machu Picchu

Then off to Cusco/Cuzco. The capital of Inca culture. Some days of watching beautiful landscapes and Inca ruins, staying in a beautiful little town called Ollantaytambo (pronounce it), with little canals all through the town, taking care of sick mum (poor little thing), and then getting ready for.... Machu Picchu! On the way I (mum was sick) did some little hikes through the jungle (in spanish: selva) on the way to Machu Picchu, we stayed at coffee farmers. Our guide had worked on coffee farms from the age of 6 (omg) and told us how to pick coffee. You get a piece of cloth (this is very Andean, they don`t do backpacks) and fold it, put it around your back, and bind it at the front. Difficult to explain. Anyway, this stupid gringo obviously picked some beans and then went to slap a mosquito on his leg, so all the coffee beans dropped. I would have a short career as a coffee picker... for sure. After the coffee beans we had a little hipster moment where we could make our own coffee, like, get the bean out of the bean (inception), roast it, grind it, make coffee. Hashtag barista. Such a paradise if it wasn`t for the mosquitos, they had literally every tropical fruit there (pineapple... passion fruits) and in abundance. It was also amazing walking over old paths that the Incas used, through coffee farms, bushes full of random tropical fruits.. ah.

Yeah there are llamas in Machu Picchu...

I probably wouldn`t have gone to Machu Picchu if it wasn`t for the fact that I was with mum (and mum paid), but that would have been a mistake. It was really as magical as they say it to be... Sure, whole of the suburban US was trying hard to make the experience less magical with their almost-religious selfie sticking and oh-my-gods, they couldn`t. However, they gave me inspiration for the following poem:

Enlighten me with your flash, oh phone, my phone, iPhone. I extend my arm with the power of your magic wand, stick it in my face like a dick, I love you, my selfie stick. I let my appearance be uploaded to rise above the cloud. Insta-reincarnation is my salvation. Oh let the likes and shares make me proud, let me feed ferociously, insta-gramification, and let those bitches see who´s having a sick vacation. Oh deity of data, I want more, give me a dual core, for my being is sore, and I adore being an instawhore.

Amazon

After Machu Picchu we spent another day in Cusco and then went to the peruvian Amazon! WOAH! The flight was only 45 minutes from Cusco and you saw mountains mountains mountains and then BAM, forest for as far as you can see. Insanely big rivers. And then quite some deforestation too, and mines (according to a story by our guide Chinese and Japanese companies are going wild on gold mining in the Amazon, fucking up the environment badly). We stayed in a lodge in the middle of the selva, with a view over a forest of palm trees, with sounds of birds I have never heard before, and monkey sounds. That`s where I celebrated my birthday, in the pool looking over endless forest with palm trees. Amazing. We also went on a boat tour around a river (that I believe eventually gives onto the Amazon) and a lake. In that lakes, I wanted to see an anaconda goddamnit! But sadly we didn´t see any. We did see giant beavers and a crocodile, and we got a good anaconda story. Apparently the owner of the boat once was boating around the lake (very peaceful lake, with palms all around etc.) when an anaconda jumped on the boat and tried to grab his dog. The owner went back with a gun and killed the anaconda. Madness!

Enjoying warm warm sun in the selva.

Parting with mum again, and off to Bolivia.

After a good three weeks of super-high-paced travel, mum was going home again. And I was really, really excited to go off to Bolivia. First off: Copacabana. WUUT, Copacabana? Yeah, the name of a Bolivian beach town... but by the Titicacalake! So on 3800m. Not really a place to go swimming, although I wanted to try. The water was said to be 8 degrees (aiii) but I tried and it wasn´t that cold... and while I was bathing in the lake some (sweet, I thought) young boys took my camera and started playing with it, and I found out they filmed eachother making middle fingers to the camera and stuff. So not that sweet.

I went to the Isla del Sol, where the sun was born according to Inca legend. Sadly 90% of the islands was shut off because of a dispute about tourism (fair enough, but still sucks) so I had to do with the 10% of the island. But that was so beautiful... there was no car traffic at all and almost every hotel on the island had a perfect view of the mountain range Cordillera Real, with snowy peaks of +-6000m. One night I went up to a viewpoint and found myself completely alone. That day I had found a Pachamama (Mother Earth) necklace that I wasn´t planning on buying (because an Inca symbol, kind of weird to wear a necklace with a religious/deep cultural meaning that you don`t really know about)... but when I found it, I decided why not, I`ll wear it. That sunset I was reborn. I swear I have never in my life seen anything like it. A view of (I think) the whole lake, a sunset which looks like a beach sunset in one direction, in another direction there was the mountain range, with a golden sunset shine and flashes of thunder every once in a while. The exact opposite side was very cloudy, which left only a little line of orange lights above the hills, like as if drawn with a magic marker. In that direction, thunder, too. And in another direction, more or less next to the sunset, too. The sky was slowly giving me more colours and the first stars appeared as I looked in the direction of where La Paz, capital of Bolivia would be, with an amazing illumination of the sky in orange colours. No sounds except some dogs barking in the distance. A dark island full of little lights, almost like stars, making it seems as if the sky and the earth had reversed roles. I sat there for an hours just speechless, watching more stars appear, seeing thunder, seeing the lake turn silver-colored, seeing so much natural beauty that I just couldn`t help but being overloaded. Holy fuck. As I walked away I realised that that exact day 9 years before I first had sex and I had to smile a little bit thinking how much better this was (and was it a symbol? did the necklace symbolise something? did I find it for a reason? was the sunset an omen? was this my symbolic transition from boyhood into manhood? I mean, the real one, nine years after I figuratuively ´became a man´? when does one become a man anyway? so many questions. Anyway, you can address me with sir Elmer now if you want and refer to me as a man rather than as a boy. I´m sure this sunset meant that.)

Good, after this little space-out I went to La Paz, leaving the beautiful Lago Titicaca. La Paz is the capital of Bolivia and lies in a valley that is 4000m at its highest point and 3200 at its lowest. A surreal setting. It was kind of like Medellin, but then with more steep valley sides and a more surreal setting. I thought that again this would be a shitty busy and polluted Latin American city, and it was, but it was also intriguing. Up, on the Altiplano, is where La Paz begins. The city has sprawled there in every direction, so that the city is in the valley, but the satellite city El Alto (the high) has developèd to be bigger than the city itself. It is where the indigenous Altiplano people live, and basically one big traffic jam with 20 meters of dusty nothingness on either side, which functions as an inofficial traffic lane, garbage heap (and therefore fireplace and street dog hangout), market space, parking space, storage space, or all at the same time. Picture around it abstract buildings of bricks, like simplified versions of old english industrial revolution buildings (fancier ones with mirror glass), buildings that look like spaceships, and imagine that you´re in a sea of minivans for an hour trying to cross this place. Intriguing, impossible.

Impossible is probably also what the city transport development department thought, so they decided to build cable cars all around the city. Right now there are like 7 lines but 6 more are due to open in the next year. They make for a nice ride around La Paz, a cool view for 30 eurocents.

Up up up, again

Then I met with Jolijn and Noah, buddies from Utrecht. They happened to be in La Paz and we decided to go get drunk in a party hostel. Fun times, had been a while since I played beer pong and danced on the bar to get free booze. And that after a night in which I decided to check out the street´s gay club by myself, which turned out very drunk and.. very interesting. Story on request.

Good, but the up up up doesn´t refer to that. Noah and I wanted to climb Huayna Potosí, the ´easiest 6000m mountain in the world´. A few days after, we did. The first day they took us to base camp at 4800m, where I hardly slept because of altitude acclimatisation. We did some ice climbing on the glacier and then went to the high camp (5100) the next day, kind of easy... but good, because we needed to get up at midnight to go climb to the top. Fuck, and of course I did not sleep a minute again...

The climb to the top was 6 hours and holy shit, it was intense. At the end I was really struggling with the oxygen deficit, I really had to coordinate my breaths with my steps (breathing deep like I learned in yoga class). Not sure if I would have made it otherwise... I still had to stop every 10 steps to catch a few breaths. But we made it! And fuck me the view from the top was so so amazing! See for yourself, I put the video and photos on Facebook. It was insane seeing La Paz, the whole Titicaca Lake (150km) and then a volcano that was 200 kilometers away, WOW! As we walked down and the sun came up we saw a huge shadow of the mountain casted on the landscape below, one of the most surreal things I have ever seen.

After this I needed some days of rest and went to the Salar de Uyuni, salt flats in the south west of Bolivia. I thought it was just that but we did a three day tour across the craziest landscapes I have seen (often feeling like I was on Mars or the moon...), geisers, deserts, red lagoons, lakes with flamingos, and mountains in every colour. Islands on the salt flats with huge cactuses... I can´t explain how beautiful the landscapes were, you really, really just need to go there. I think the tour might have been the most beautiful I´ve seen in terms of landscapes on this trip.

To make it across the salt flat I had to battle some monsters...

And then, I thought, why not, I´ll try another huge ass mountain. I went to the national park of Sajama, between the salt flats and La Paz, and spent a few days in a national park with hot springs, ostriches (what the hell), alpacas and llamas everywhere. And then I wanted to go up the 6500m Sajama volcano. Sadly, I was advised against it because it wouldn´t be easy. So I decided for a day trip to the 6300m Parinacota mountain. Was said to be easy. Wasn´t.

That was yesterday and we got up at midnight to go up, starting at 5100m. First, a fuckload of volcanic sand (making walking really difficult) and then the glacier. But this glacier wasn´t like the Huayna Potosi glacier, which was flat. This one was full of little holes and spikes, making it like ascending stairs with huge steps, of course in full mountain gear, so uncomfortable and difficult to move. Oh yeah and the oxygen deficit at 5500m... my buddy didn´t have enough energy to do it and also I fucked up, because I wore only two pairs of gloves and there was a LOT of wind, so that my fingers were feeling really cold. We went up to 6000m and decided to go back, the wind was just too strong and we got unlucky. Still caught a beautiful sunrise and view over the landscape, but that was it. I´m still proud because 900m I think is crazy considering the circumstances (and I really surprised myself again with the amount of energy I apparently had to do that, especially after another 800m ascent to a 5000m mountain that morning).Have you ever driven away from a place and kept looking out of the back window of the car because you are just speechless and in awe of a place? I had that with the Sajama national park. The Sajama volcano just kept being on the horizon, however far we drove. All the landscapes disappeared in the horizon and the Sajama mountain just stayed. Sometimes it disappeared behind a small nearby hill and then reappeared, as if saying that even if I would be leaving it, it wouldn´t be leaving me.. And this mother of mountains is right. One day I will be back...

Parinacota on the left, the mountain that wouldn´t let me.

And the majestic Sajama mountain... for which I will be back, one day.

After that, now that is, I am completely fucking done with the cold and so I´m off to Brazil now to enjoy caipirinhas on the beach. This Altiplano adventure has been amazing but I didn´t come travel to be in a winter climate. Ciao, you will be missed. And I´ll be back...

Expect a drunk caipirinha and mojito-fuelled story next time, my last for this trip. I´m sure going to gay pride in Sao Paulo in a week will give me some new material (although I´m not sure it´s going to be appropriate for Facebook :) ).

My sweet friends, I miss you so much and I can´t wait to be back now in 3 weeks. I`m gonna have a little blast in Brazil and I will overload you with hugs when I´m back. Besos, beijos, abrazos. Your alpaca sheep, el merino.