#going through an absolutely uh heart wrenching breakup right now and

[glittergroovy]

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[coffeeaddictedauthor]

How the boys of 13rw would react to...

….You breaking up with them because of another man

Requested by: Anon

 Jeff: 

His smile would slowly start to fade, his eyes scrunching up in confusion “Sorry babe, I uh I must not have heard you right. Can you repeat yourself?” He would ask, a nervous chuckle ending his question. He knew what you had said but he just needed to hear it again, he needed to make sure that the knot tying harder in his stomach was there for a reason. After you would repeat yourself everything inside him would break, he would hang his head and cross his arms across his chest “But I thought” he would start, his hand rubbing across his mouth “I thought you loved me.” He would state, glancing up at you to display his glossy eyes “What happened?” But you couldn’t give him an answer, all you said was that you were sorry. He would pull you in for one last hug, one arm tightly around you, the other lightly stroking your hair “I’m sorry too" 

 Montgomery: 

 Rage. Absolute fury would be the first emotion plastered absolutely everywhere on his face and body language. "What do you mean another guy?! Breakup?!!! What are you even talking about?! Who is he?!?!? I want a name and I want it now Y/N!” he would shout, his fists bound tightly at his sides. Monty would never hurt you but he had no problem of hurting this new man in your life “What does he have that I don’t?! I told you I loved you! Hell! You told me you loved me! Was that a lie!? Was all of this a lie?!??!”. It would take hours to get him to calm down and even after he was calm he still would refuse to accept it, accept the fact that this was actually happening and not just the heart wrenching fact that you wanted to breakup but because of another guy?! He would repeat the phrase ‘why’ so much that you thought it was the only thing he could say. He still didn’t think you meant it until you finally walked out and the second that door closed behind you, nothing he did could stop the tears. 

Alex:

He hadn’t expected it, first it was Jessica then you. He loved you, more than he thought was possible and he thought you felt the same. He would reach up and scratch the back of his head, giving you a very nervous and tight smile “Wow. Okay. That’s news” he would say, trying to lighten the mood and trying to fight the immense pain he was now succumbed to. The two of you would sit in silence for a bit before he would pipe up “May I ask who… or is that odd because honestly I don’t really know how to respond to all of this”. The two of you would talk, you would explain it, say how sorry you were. Alex kept a brave face the entire time and even gave you a hug before you left but you didn’t know that he needed that hug. He needed to hold you one last time, so he held you as tightly as he could, ending with a kiss on the top of your head “I’ll always be here for you" 

 Justin: 

You didn’t expect him to get mad, but you didn’t know what to expect to be honest. "How did you expect me to react?! React to you telling me that you don’t love me anymore?! That I’m not good enough for you anymore? But that’s fine, it’s okay. I should have expected this” he sounded so deflated, so utterly broken and enraged. He couldn’t think of who and he tried to stop his mind from wandering “I love you” he murmured, his tender voice caused the both of you to break out in sobs but after he realized that you no longer loved him, at least not like he loved you, he would beg for you to go, he couldn’t handle it anymore, he couldn’t handle seeing you and knowing that he could never hug you, kiss you or be with you anymore. 

Tony: 

Tony had never had a strong relationship, that was until he met you. He loved you, he thought everything was great and that the two of you would grow old together but then why were you saying this? Standing in front of him telling him it’s over, that you found someone else. He would begin to pace, his hands taking turns running through his hair “Uh yeah, yeah okay” he would say after about thirty minutes of silence “You know if he makes you happy” and that’s all he could say before the tears came. His body would shake, very slightly as he avoided eye contact with you at all costs. You would try to talk to him, try to comfort him but he would just shut you out, build up all his walls within the duration of this conversation “I think It would be best…be best if you left” so you did what he thought was best 

Clay:

He just felt broken. You mentioned the breakup and everything inside of him tensed up but when you said it was because of another man he just couldn’t comprehend it. He couldn’t even speak he just watched you with big eyes, tears falling before he even realized. He wanted to ask who but more than ever he just wanted to ask why, he thought it was all going so well he thought you were happy he thought he made you happy, he thought the two of you were in love. He fought with himself in his mind or and over since he didn’t want to fight with you. “Please” was all he could say but you had made up your mind. You placed a careful kiss on his cheek and whispered the words 'I’m sorry’ before walking out. 

 Zach: 

 You would watch his head tilt to the side because other than that movement he remained perfectly still “What?” He would ask, blinking a bit rapidly as he watched every breath you took but even though he asked you a question, he wasn’t listening to your response, he was in shock. What had happened? What did he do wrong? Who was this bastard? And the second his mind switched from what and why to who that’s when he became angry. Zach didn’t get angry that much but oh he was furious, his heart was broken and there was going to be hell to pay “How could you do this?! I let you in! I trusted you, loved you and now you’re going to leave me?!”. He would shift between emotions, yelling at you then pleading with you and then telling you to leave, so you did.

Thanks for the request anon! I’m really enjoying doing these and if you do too, please request more right here!

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 2

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 7.5k

chapters: 2/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills 'Til the landslide brought it down

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Sailors tell stories of calms before hurricanes. The wind is mild, friendly even, tickling the sails with soft breezes. The waves are coaxing and gentle against the hull of the ship. The sun is bright and strong. And then—chaos.

These are the kinds of thing Betty thinks about in moments like this. Two screaming—or laughing? She’s never totally sure—children running circles around her, her hands too greasy to try to grab one of them, her hair falling in her face, the garage telephone ringing shrilly, and she just needs it all to stop.

“Kids!” She yells. “Guys, please! Aunt B needs to answer the phone!”

Her nephew jabs her forcefully in the knee. “No! Tag! You’re it!” Then her niece starts mimicking her brother and they both start chanting tag! tag! tag!

Trying to think of a reason why she ever agrees to babysit these two terrors, especially when she has to work, Betty tries to weave her way to the phone.

“Aunt B isn’t playing tag right now, Artie,” she sighs, quickly wiping her hands on the rag next to the big red telephone before making a grab for it. He pokes at her again just as she pulls the phone off the receiver. “Ow! Arthur, stop. Cooper Garage, Betty speaking.”

“How are the Terrible Two’s, then?” It’s Veronica, sounding far too smug for someone who spoils the twins just as much anyone. She and the twins’ other aunt, Cheryl, have been broken up for over a year, but given that it was an amicable split (or, as amicable as two girls equally prone to dramatics can be—hence, the breakup), Veronica has remained a strong presence in the kids’ lives all the same.

“Terrible,” Betty breathes. She wipes her hand across her forehead. “What’s up?”

“So, I should cover my mom’s shifts more often,” Veronica chirps, and Betty feels an inkling of frustration that she practically sprinted across the garage for another one of Veronica’s social calls.

“Oh?” Betty asks, using the moment to brush some loose locks of hair off her sweaty skin. “And why’s that, Ronnie?”

“Boys,” is Veronica’s simple response. “Riverdale is absolutely devoid of them—or any that I haven’t test driven yet—but I always forget that Pop’s gets a surprising number of people off the highway. Girls too, I’m sure, but tonight there were these—”

“Well, I’m sure Pop appreciates that business,” Betty interrupts distractedly, watching her niece wander dangerously close to a tool bench. “Rose! Don’t touch that. You know you don’t play with Aunt B’s tools. Can you go grab your brother and go play in my office, please? You can put on the tv.”

Rose shoots her an embarrassed, apologetic smile and pulls her brother to the back of the garage and into her office.

“Sorry,” Betty declares to Veronica, rubbing her forehead. “They got into my cookie stash again. They’re angels until they touch sugar. You were saying? Boys?”

“It’s fine,” Veronica replies in her typically amused voice. “I should probably get to the point. I know you’re closing soon, but I’m actually calling because I have a truck smoking in the parking lot of Pop’s, and I figure they might need a tow and an allen wrench, or something.”

Ah.

“Okay, don’t trust an allen wrench for anything other than IKEA. Hold on,” Betty chuckles, cradling the phone between her shoulder and neck to reach for her notepad. “Alright, I’m ready. Describe the situation for me.”

“Uh…it’s a truck. Looks kind of old. Actually a rather lovely sea foam color…might be the same palette Jil Sander used in her FW—”

Betty stops taking notes. “Veronica.”

“Right. Not relevant. Well, I saw these two guys get in the car, and after a few minutes, the whole engine started smoking. Seemed like maybe they were trying to get it started.” There’s a sound like blinds shuffling around, and she imagines Veronica is watching from the window. “One is waving smoke around like a maniac and the other has just been banging his head against his steering wheel for the past three minutes.”

Betty presses her lips together to suppress a giggle at the mental image. “It sounds like it overheated, but I won’t be able to diagnosis why without seeing it,” she concludes, glancing over her shoulder at the office window. “Hm. They probably need a tow to get it here, but I can’t leave the kids…or fit them, two guys, and me in the truck. And Jason and Polly have that thing tonight, or I’d make them come get them.”

“Why don’t you bring the kids and leave them with me? I’ll take them home, or bring them over to the garage at the end of my shift. Pop’s got enough colored pencils to keep them occupied.”

“That might work,” Betty muses. “Okay, sounds like a plan. Tell those guys not to touch anything, and that a tow is coming.”

“Sí,” Veronica replies. “And call me when you’re done with them, if I don’t see you first. I wanna talk about the boys, because one is trés cute. Try to find out if he’s single, would you?”

“If it comes up naturally, sure,” Betty sighs, thinking that Veronica gets more romantic mileage out of Betty’s livelihood than she herself does. “Alright, it’ll take me a minute to wrangle these demons. See you soon. Thanks, V.”

“De nada. Besitos!”

They both hang up, and Betty presses another number into the buttons. She’d call Polly, but she’s famously bad at answering her phone. Jason picks up after a ring. “Hello? Is everything okay?” Her brother-in-law sounds frantic. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Breathe, Jason,” she laughs. “Everyone is fine. I just have a little dilemma here at the garage. I need to go pick up a car at Pop’s, but can’t fit the kids with everyone in the tow truck on the way back. I’m gonna leave them with Veronica at the diner, and she’ll bring them home if this ends up going too long. That alright?”

“Oh. Sure, Betty. Sorry again for leaving them with you last minute. Wh—oh, sorry, I have to go, the charity auction is starting. Thanks for checking. Have a good night!” And then he’s gone. Betty sighs, and wipes her hands on her blue work jumpsuit. If the boys are as cute as Veronica said, she briefly wonders if she should put on a bit more mascara. But there’s not really time, and she’s got a job to do anyway. So she settles for retying her ponytail and washing any leftover grease from her face.

“Kids!” She calls, and they come scrambling out of her office. “Who wants to go for a ride in the tow truck?”

After a resounding chorus of “We do! We do!” and gathering all their things into their little backpacks, she corrals them into the truck and sets off for Pop’s. Like everything in Riverdale, it’s not a long drive, but Rose and Artie are shoving at each other and it’s distracting for the whole ride.

She exhales. She loves her family. She loves her family.

Pulling into the Pop’s parking lot, Betty immediately spots the purpose of her trip; a mint green Ford pickup is stalled in its spot, the remnants of smoke stacks lingering overhead. Veronica is leaning against a nearby car in a yellow Pop’s uniform, talking to a well-built redheaded guy, and there’s another person still sitting in the driver’s seat, his head slumped against the wheel.

At least he’s stopped hitting his head against it, Betty thinks. She parks right in front of him, so it’ll be easy to hook up later on.

She and the kids pile out of the tow truck, and they immediately race over to Veronica, who scoops up Rose in her arms. With the kids’ bright red hair next to the stranger’s own, they could be a little family themselves. She shakes her head and marches over to the Ford.

“Hi there!” She says, knocking lightly against the metal door frame. “Heard you needed a hand.”

The guy looks up, eyes narrowed. He has dark hair stuffed under a gray beanie, a handsome, angled face and a smattering of attractive freckles and moles. This must be the cute one, Betty thinks, though Veronica seems happily preoccupied with the other guy.

“So it would seem,” he says, after a long moment of sizing her up. “You the mechanic we were promised?”

If he’s going to be one of those guys who underestimates a blonde woman under the hood of a car, he doesn’t show it. “Yep,” she says brightly. “Mind if I take a look at what I’m working with?”

With an incredibly burdened sigh, he slips out of the driver’s seat. “Let’s get this over with,” he mutters darkly behind her. He doesn’t seem to be in the best mood, though it’s not like she can blame him. Then again, she rarely comes across a customer happy to get their car ripped apart to be fixed, so she’s used to the attitude.

“So is the truck yours? Wow, is this a F150 ‘76? Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” she says, trying to clear the air.

“’77,” He corrects, a bit defensively, though she’s not sure why. He shifts from one foot to another, looking uncomfortable. “She’s not much, but she’s mine. A dependable old girl. Usually.”

“She’s a beaut,” Betty assures him. Veronica was right; the color is very nice. She flashes him an excited and secretive kind of smile that he clearly looks like has no idea what to do with. “I always love the diagnosis period.”

She sticks her head under the popped hood. She makes a lot of hm's, and ah's, and oh's under her breath as she digs around the engine. There’s almost no compressor left on one of his cylinders, which is probably the source of the breakdown. It’s been almost fried completely through, but otherwise, the engine is in pretty good shape, though there are certainly a couple of dark spots on its horizon.

“You’ve taken pretty good care of this car,” she says, briefly poking her head around the hood.

The guy clears his throat, looking slightly pained. “Uh, that was mostly my dad. This was his truck and I think he still fiddles with it when I’m not looking. But probably hasn’t for…a while. I haven’t done much more than change the oil every now and then.”

Betty hums and turns back to the engine. “Well, he’s done a good job.” Then she straightens, and wipes her hands on the rag that hangs from her belt loop. “So are you a good news first, bad news second, kind of guy? Or a—”

“I’m a bad news first, more bad news inevitably second kind of guy,” he says wanly. “So level with me. How bad?”

“Honestly, it’s not!” She says quickly, though he looks suspicious. He passes a fleeting glance over at his friend, but he and Veronica are still talking a few cars away. The kids are running in circles around them. “Really. You’ve got no compression left on one of your cylinders, which is easy to fix. And your truck has got great bones. But…the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

He squints at her. “Are you making an Aristotle joke?”

“A bad one,” she sighs, smile fading. “Basically, I don’t have parts for a truck this old on hand right now. I just used up my last one a few days ago. And we’re the only garage in town. Now, I can order them, and they really shouldn’t take too long, but it could be a week before they arrive. Maybe sooner if my guy in Hudson hasn’t left for vacation yet. Once I get the part it’ll be done in a couple days. But…”

“But?”

Betty sighs. “But I don't know how far you’re planning on driving this car.”

He blinks. “We came from Boston, heading to Chicago and then back. Why?”

“I was worried you guys were on a road trip,” she says under her breath. “I'm not totally sure the truck can make it back from Chicago. It might, it definitely might, but you've got a couple of weak spots all over your engine that could cause another breakdown. Just a professional observation.”

The guy stares longingly at his truck. Something is working across his face.

“Some people might cut their losses here,” she wagers, taking a stab at what he’s thinking. He looks up sharply. “Might say that sinking money into a truck a over decade older than them is a waste.”

He doesn’t correct her, so Betty assumes she’s not far off. “But like I said, this truck has really great bones. It was built well before planned obsolescence, and all that. So I could do a quick fix of your compressor issue here and send you off, but honestly, your head gasket and one of your valves aren’t long for this world either. If I rebuilt about half your engine, it would run flawlessly for probably another ten years.”

The guy stares at her. “Don’t mechanics have a reputation for saying stuff just like that, to get you to spend more money?”

“Yes,” Betty agrees. “We do. But I know what I’m talking about. You can trust me.”

“That’s definitely what someone I couldn’t trust would say,” he murmurs apprehensively, running his tongue over his teeth. He blinks over at Pop’s, a sort of wistful look warring over his features. “I’m not saying yes, for the record. But let’s say, theoretically, I’m interested in my truck running for another ten years. Just how long would rebuilding an engine take?”

“Well, couple weeks, if I get the compressor within that window. I’ve got most of the things I’d need for the engine already. But I'd be able to get started right away.”

“So we’re talking, full picture, about three weeks,” he summarizes flatly. He appears thoughtful, rubbing his hand against his jaw. “That’s cutting it a little close. I have to be in Chicago in a month. And what the hell would we do for three weeks in some podunk farm town?”

Betty bristles; she’s not sure he meant to say that last part loud enough for her to hear it, but she sure as hell did.

“I’m sorry your truck broke down here, but I can assure you we have all the amenities of modern times here in Riverdale. Flushing water, even internet,” she says, in a perky voice that she knows belies her annoyance.

With the long day she’s had chasing two six year olds all over her garage and just the mounting exhaustion of the past year, she’s not in the mood to humor the snobbery of a stranger. And, maybe, just maybe, if she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t disagree with him and it strikes a damn chord.

There isn’t much to do in Riverdale, a fact she’s been musing over her whole life. But it’s not like she has the option to leave, so she’s not really interested in sympathizing with his anguish over a three-week pit stop.

He seems to realize his mistake, as his ears redden. She adds pointedly, “We’re also on the MetroNorth line. So you can go down to New York City while I fix her up. Or you can head up the Hudson Valley. You’re not married to staying here.”

He looks embarrassed beyond his depth, but doesn’t apologize. He nibbles on his lips instead. “Yeah, okay. How much are we talking?”

She puts her hands on her hips and spares the engine another sigh. “Parts…hm, you don’t need everything…the head gasket is gonna run it up…compressors are about 120… So I’d say about 700 for all the parts. Labor for this kind of work is about 1500. I’ll bundle it and do it all for 2 grand.”

He pulls his hat from his head for the sole purpose of running his hands through his hair. She has a moment to appreciate his thick, dark curls before the hat is forcefully shoved back on. He looks frustrated, or maybe anguished, or maybe on the verge of a total mental breakdown. Or maybe all of the above.

He crosses his arms. “That seems low. What’s the catch?”

“It is low,” Betty exhales, half-forgiving him for his offense despite herself. She knows it’s not what her father would’ve done—but it’s her garage now. She can run it how she wants, including into the ground. Still, one of these days, she’d love to learn how to hold a grudge. “No catch. You just seem like you’re in a bit of a bind.”

He stares at her like she’s just touched down to Earth on a spaceship. Then, he shakes his head to clear his shocked expression, and thrusts his hand out. “Deal.”

She shakes his hand, and there’s a brief, but startling, moment where her skin sparks against his. It might just be static electricity, but he seems to notice it too, because he quickly pulls his hand away.

“Thanks, Betty,” he says quietly, much to her surprise. At her look, he gestures to the embroidered nametag over her heart. She glances down at it, having forgotten it was there. Forgot she was wearing this greasy, disgusting jumpsuit in the first place. “I’m Jughead, by the way. And no, that’s not the name on my driver’s license, which I guess you’ll see when I fill out whatever forms, so please just…call me Jughead.”

She raises an eyebrow, but it’s 2017 and she goes by Betty, so she’s not about to judge. “Gotcha. Okay, well I’m gonna load up your Ford to the tow. You’re my last call of the day, so how about I drop you at the local hotel and you can come by tomorrow to fill out the paperwork?”

Jughead opens his mouth, but Archie, Veronica, and the kids are making their way towards them and he promptly clams up.

“They’ve reminded me I promised them pie about fifty times now, so we’re going to head on in so I can deliver on that. A Lodge always keeps her word,” Veronica says, tossing her silky black hair over her shoulder.

Betty rolls her eyes, dropping into a squat so she’s eye-level with the twins. “Fine, but I’m not taking them back after you’ve pumped them with more sugar. Okay kiddos, say goodbye to me!”

“Bye!” They say in cheery unison, running into her open arms. They give her quick hugs and then dash into the diner, with Veronica crossing across the parking lot after them. She passes them a brief, delicate wave of her fingers and then disappears through Pop’s door.

Jughead’s friend stares after her like she’s water and he’s the desert. She isn’t surprised. Veronica tends to have that effect, even draped in polyester. Betty will have to double check which one her friend thinks is the cute one, because otherwise there might be tension on the horizon between the two boys.

But then, Betty realizes that Jughead hasn’t even spared Veronica a passing glance. Instead, he’s staring at his truck. He seems to sense her eyes on him, because then he looks her way, his face unreadable. 

“So what’s happening?” The redhead asks, forcing his gaze away. “Did you get it fixed?”

“As if it’d be that simple, Archie,” Jughead sighs. “No, we’re definitely stuck here. Or, the truck is. For a couple weeks, while Betty here licks the wounds we’ve inflicted.”

His friend, Archie, seems to realize Betty is here for the first time. He hastily makes his introductions and then turns back to Jughead. “A couple of weeks? Aw, man. I had all these plans for our road trip.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Jughead says, a bit tersely. “If you’d given me any time to prepare, I might’ve had the truck checked out before we left. Instead she didn’t even make it 400 miles.”

Archie frowns. “I’m sorry, dude, I just—”

But Jughead cuts him off with a noisy exhale, then shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m tired. Let’s just crash and figure it out in the morning.”

Betty slips away and starts unhooking her tow chains, deciding the two friends might need a moment to work it out. She’s a mechanic, but she often feels more like a bartender in a seedy TV procedural; the type of arguments she overhears picking people up from the side of the road could fill a book.

Archie and Jughead don’t seem as willing to fight, though there’s still clearly a bit of tension as she snaps the hood down and latches the Ford to her tow truck. While she’s fiddling under the carriage of Jughead’s truck, she overhears the last bit of their conversation.

“…just saying it might not be the worst place to stay for a little while,” Archie is murmuring wistfully, and Betty can imagine he’s staring after Veronica in the diner.

“I guess not,” Jughead replies, after a long, thoughtful moment. She can’t see his face, but there’s something markedly hidden in his voice. She inhales, unsure of the sudden prickling on her skin. “I guess not.”

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[mint-sm]

LOS CAMPESINOS! REVIEW/ANALYSIS: Romance is Boring

Let’s talk about a word for a minute: Tryhard.

In an (at the time of writing at least) mildly recent interview with Noisey on the subject of this album, lead guitarist Tom Campesinos! (Tom Bromley) described “Romance is Boring” as “probably the most self-conscious record, and it's probably the most try-hard record as well,” describing it as a reaction to that whole “twee” and “pop” label they were most popularly recognized with from “Hold on Now, Youngster…”, and even after the release of “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed.”

Like I said on my reviews of both albums, I feel that “Youngster” was an excellent release if only for the sound it ended up with, and not necessarily the band’s initial visions, which would then be addressed and accentuated in “Doomed,” which more clearly defined the groundwork that the band wanted to pursue underneath the indie pop exterior roof formed with “Youngster.” With this album, “Romance is Boring,” they definitely wanted to challenge that idea even further; become more experimental, create much more blaring, aggressive songs in unusual time signatures and beats, with more complex and detailed production alongside Gareth’s self-deprecatingly bitter, but intricate and atmospheric lyricism. In other words, “Romance is Boring” was a self-imposed challenge, and if they wanted to be “try-hard,” they succeeded.

At the same time though, Tom seemed to be somewhat disappointed about what the band would make in the future in comparison to this album, saying “I would never make songs like that again, at the moment I'm not in that frame of mind where I would, so when I listen to them I'm like 'shit I can't believe we made this'.” The sad truth about trying really hard to be as fucking wild and complex-sounding is that it might be something you never wanna try again because you might never, ever reach that adrenaline-fueled mindset you were in to originally craft it again in the future, and as we’ll discuss with “Hello Sadness” next time, reality just might hit you hard enough to stray away from that.

It’s a shame, but as an artist who often gets fatigued of just trying to work on a passion project for years that burns out for a while after releasing a thing, I can sympathize a bit. Creating and experimenting is very tough, and it takes a lot of time, and you will be often be surprised as hell by what you make in the end, but at the same time it can be really straining, only made bearable by sheer passion and emotion (mostly frustration, it sounds like) that, sad to say, can dissipate just like that, and getting it back isn’t something you can just “do.” And “Romance is Boring” is passionate and emotional, and the experimentation clearly did pay off, but was their process something they should be willing to go through again? Well, I don’t know Gareth and the band well-enough to decide for certain, but I’m gonna say… probably not?

CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?

But anyways, let’s talk about “Romance is Boring” itself. Simply put, as you probably might have inferred from other reviews, “Romance is Boring” is my favorite Los Camp record. They put a lot of fucking effort into this album, likely more than with any other record they’ve ever made, and it shows. It contains basically everything I think the band excels at, and even the parts it doesn’t normally do the absolute best in, they do exceptionally well here. Witty, poetic and dense lyrics, blaring, catchy, and diverse instrumentals, wild and conflicting yet consistent moods, and hauntingly vague but vivid imagery following and exploring complex and dissonant themes and narrative, such as the idea of falling in love, disappointing mental anguish, depression, creepiness, selfishness, bitter sarcasm, and regret, among others. It sounds a lot better than the emo shit it just came off as, honest.

The album is much more narratively flowing than “Youngster” or “Doomed,” and as you might expect from the title, it’s about romance, but not necessarily in a completely despondent way as it also might imply. While an overall theme it provides is one of dissatisfaction and heartbreak, once again, Los Camp’s ability to simultaneously yet fluidly meld together multiple diametrically opposed emotions shines through here.

The second track, “There Are Listed Buildings,” is a very good example of this, because the instrumentation is by far the poppiest and free-flowing track on this album, almost “Youngster”-ey in quality, with these cheery “BAH BAH, BAH BAH, BAH BAH BAH, BADDADA” choruses with what I think is a tuba or trombone, and just a wonderfully-sounding electric guitar riff pre-chorus, it all feels so bright and carnival-ly, and honestly, so are the lyrics, which are playful and strangely optimistic for the band. I think it’s about a like a couple deciding to actually pursue a relationship, with lyrics like “I think I'd do it for love, if it were not for the money / I'll take any scraps that you can give,” which is made honestly kinda cute and sweet-sounding in a sepia-tone, sarcastically hipster kinda way.

I REMEMBER BEING NAKED TO MY WAIST, THOUGH NOT IN WHICH DIRECTION 

[YOU ARE A GLUTTON FOR LOVE, CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME ROMANCE? I'M A GLUTTON FOR SIN]

However, the opposing feeling from this song comes from the exact details and the context in which this song ends up in, because other lyrics seem to reflect more of this idea that the girl is actually really a little too desperate because “You dangle fishing line for crabs, but they're not interested /  I'm your only bite,” which kinda reminds me of that XKCD comic discussing that “nice guy” that at first seems sweet and caring for a lonely girl but is actually disturbingly manipulative and creepy as shit (which some people unfortunately seem to unironically agree with). Plus, as was shown by Los Camp songs before and after, Gareth has simply never believed that “true love” exists, and this budding relationship is uh… yeah, it’s kind of doomed to not end well.

It’s made so much clearer with the song right after it, the title track, and I just love it for how utterly SPITEFUL it is. Whether these characters played by Gareth and Aleks are supposed to be the same throughout the entire album, I don’t know, but this relationship has gotten incredibly bitter and sarcastic, the instrumentation is so fucking blaring and distorted and crashy and violent at times, and the chorus features the band absolutely screaming “YOU'RE POUTING IN YOUR SLEEP, I'M WAKING STILL YAWNING, WE'RE PROVING TO EACH OTHER THAT ROMANCE IS BORING,” it’s so gleefully hateful. I don’t think I’ve heard many tracks of a mutually mentally abusive relationship that sounded this damn cathartic.

WE ARE TWO SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 

YOU AND I, WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE 

I AM A PLEASURE CRUISE, YOU ARE GONE OUT TO TRAWL 

RETURN NETS EMPTY, NOTHING AT ALL

Really, I could go on with these tracks all day and pick apart the little intricacies of each song to dissect how great each one is, because this is probably the absolute densest Los Camp has ever gotten instrumentally and lyrically. There’s so many little moments as to what makes every track work so much, and rarely is it just as straightforward as the title track, but even when it is, the production and poetry just feel so incredibly potent, it’s essentially like instead of listening to a song and being gradually surrounded by atmosphere, “Romance is Boring” fucking clocks you with it.

Just getting out of the way, I think maybe the least experimental track on this album is “Straight in at 101,” because instrumentally, structurally, it really does feel the most straightforward, even with little moments with like a sudden blast of distortion at one point or how it immediately goes from feeling bright and upbeat to somber, then complete silence as Gareth sings about how “the talking heads count down the most heart wrenching breakups of all time / imagine the great sense of waste, the indignity the embarrassment when not a single one of that whole century was mine.”  It, and maybe “A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” are probably the most “standard-sounding,” or like baseline to Los Camp, which doesn’t mean they’re bad, but yknow.

I’d still consider it a very strong track because it’s still very consistent, it’s got a very continuous but evolving groove to it, and the lyrics are still jam-packed with wordplay and description that paint just this really fucking selfish, but also really kinda(?) sympathetic narrator, who makes his utter disappointment with what I’m assuming was a one night stand very clear. Los Camp is a very self-aware band and Gareth’s a very self-deprecating writer, but the way he manages to be both really ugly but astoundingly relatable, and also so mean-spirited to a point where you can’t help but really laugh at how much of a shit he is is kind of admirable.

I THINK WE NEED MORE POST-COITAL AND LESS POST-ROCK

FEELS LIKE THE BUILD-UP TAKES FOREVER, BUT YOU NEVER TOUCH MY COCK 

AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN NOW BY, "WHAT CAN YOU EVEN EAT?" 

AND HOW DOES THAT AFFECT HOW I'LL GET OFF THIS EVENING?

Two of the most unusual tracks that I both love from this album are “Plan A” and “I Warned You: Do Not Make an Enemy of Me” (goddamn that title just makes me so giddy for some reason), with “Plan A” being probably the harshest, off-sounding and most punk-like track Los Camp has ever recorded, with its atonal, distorted mashing chords and screaming call/response vocals (it’s so fn weird hearing Aleks sound panicked and frantic, but goddamn I miss her) before suddenly segueing into like this sing-songy, but still distorted and oddly free-flowing, almost twee-like chorus, and “I Warned You” sounding so stilted and awkwardly tense yet cheery with its weird tempo and beat shifts, almost feeling kinda outsider-music-y at times.

BROKE DOWN LAUGHING AND SCREAMING FOR MORE 

BUT IF THIS CHANGED YOUR LIFE, DID YOU HAVE ONE BEFORE?

Another personal favorite track is the intro, “In Medias Res,” which starts off the album just perfectly, starting with like these gentle, but already kinda already compressed and messy acoustic guitar chords before slowly building up into this like surprisingly reverbed, ethereal and charming instrumental, with a backing that almost sounds like it came from like a shoegaze or dark dream pop track, but with like this really, dreamy and cute duet vocals and glockenspiel. It sounds so oddly saddening yet so weirdly uplifting, especially with that little breakdown near the end with all the distortion effects placed against the glockenspiel, keyboards and brass; I’m pretty sure you can hear at some points Gareth screaming some lines, but it’s so blended-in with the instrumental, but it sounds kinda… beautiful.

And the lyrics, oh god, the lyrics. For some reason, the first and last lines just have so much damn atmosphere loaded into something that just feels so… simple. I can’t explain it without the context, but the very first line, “But let’s talk about you for a minute,” just really gets to me for some reason, probably because within this album itself, it just says so damn much about its themes, that while incredibly toxic and awesomely angry at times, can also get really intimate, melancholy, and depressing, especially with the song’s outro lines:

“IF YOU WERE GIVEN THE OPTION OF DYING PAINLESSLY IN PEACE AT FORTY-FIVE, BUT WITH A LOVER AT YOUR SIDE, AFTER A FULL AND HAPPY LIFE, IS THIS SOMETHING THAT WOULD INTEREST YOU? WOULD THIS INTEREST YOU AT ALL?”

Keep in mind, Gareth believes that true love doesn’t exist.

And in a really cruel reality, despite how playful, giddy and sarcastic or self-deprecating it can be dancing around the topic, Los Camp STILL can’t prove to us that heartbreak, however, isn’t anything but incredibly real. The final 3 tracks on this album (not counting the bonus track, “Too Many Flesh Suppers”) perfectly reflect this mindset.

The fan favorite “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future” is simply put Los Camp’s most beautiful, poignant track they’ve ever made (and also one of the most devastating and emo), and it serves as one hell of an emotional climax for the album. While Los Camp hasn’t really been one for imagery and instead prefers mood most of the time, this track is the perfect marriage of the two; everything about it just seems to paint this incredibly vivid mindset about a depressed, suicidal and utterly broken lover (if it’s the same one from “There Are Listed Buildings,” it’s even more so), who I can just imagine is like sitting on the far end of a dock on a very gloomy beach with gray overcast and an sea, maybe like rocking her legs back and forth sitting on the edge with her feet just touching the salt water as she just stares hopelessly out onto the endless horizon. Y’know, happy stuff.

The lyrics on this track are just some of the most utterly concise and madly specific descriptions Gareth’s ever written, with simultaneously pointless yet (ugh I normally hate this word in this context but) deep and precise lyrics, and Gareth’s vocal delivery just slowly escalates to this heartfelt, like pouring-out-his-soul-in-desperation, perfect climax. Everything about this track just works, and it plunges you into this visceral, atmospheric world of gray skies, salty seas and contemplation, where it really does feel like that the sea is a great place to think of the future… or maybe a lack of one.

SHE SAID ONE DAY TO LEAVE HER, SAND UP TO HER SHOULDERS, WAITING FOR THE TIDE

TO DRAG HER TO THE OCEAN, TO ANOTHER SEA'S SHORE, THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL... 

BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT!?

But like I said, Los Camp likes to dance around these sort of maudlin themes, and immediately after one of the bleakest tracks they’ve made, we suddenly get more cheery, upbeat, and snide in “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” whose first lyrics are literally the band shouting “CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?”, singing another almost-kinda-sorta indie-twee track about a couple stupidly in love, but we all know that it’s all unhealthy and it’s going to end poorly, right? Like, any song about love that has the chorus “The story of the winter I forgot how to speak, my mind was like a nation's flag but my breeze was too weak / How they dragged me to the hospital saying I had gone deaf / But I heard everything they said, it's just I had no interest,” no matter how crowd-pleasing and roucous and glockenspiel-accompanied it sounds, can’t have a story that ends well, right?

Well, considering how the album ends with “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,” a much slower, a lot more ethereal-sounding ballad with the lines “Run the water 'til it scalds, you know that I'm listening / Pitter-patter runs the shower, hits the bare porcelain” and “I fall to my knees, my piss-soaked jeans / The first time, the last time, all the times in between”... it’s probably safe to assume yes, it didn’t. Actually, considering “The Sea is a Good Place” and the chillingly repeated outro of “I CAN’T BELIEVE I CHOSE THE MOUNTAINS EVERY TIME YOU CHOSE THE SEA,”  it probably ended VERY horribly. And… that just fucking sucks, you know?

Goddamn, there’s still so many tracks I didn’t cover, but damnit, if I make this any longer, this is gonna just turn into a track-by-track thesis paper, since there’s just so much to talk about. These are basically the major elements I love the most and find the most worth-addressing, but the thing is that this entire album feels worth addressing, because once again, it’s just so damn packed with just about everything I feel makes an album work in my eyes. There’s not a single track that’s not worth analyzing and appreciating, but christ, there are only so many hours in the day! D:

BY NOW IT'S JUST THE THREE OF US

ME, YOUR SHADOW, YOUR ECHO

“Romance is Boring” is just a fantastic album. It manages to contain all of the things I feel an album needs to be heavily engaging, and the fact that most of them came from a band who normally doesn’t do that great in some of those aspects such as actual concrete description or instantly recognizable context makes this feel all the more surprising and welcoming.

And that’s where it all comes down to: it is just really, really engaging. It’s powerful without being overbearing, it’s noisy while being incredibly and consistently precise, it’s descriptive while being pretty accessible, and it’s varied but also manages to maintain a consistent sound Los Camp have finally pinpointed down as that which can be identified as uniquely their own. It plays up the band’s unique strengths just enough that you never feel alienated or feel forced or anything like that, and not only is it as adventurous as the band might ever get, it’s one hell of a fucking adventure. Hail try-hardiness. (5/5)

...So what happens now?

FAVES: “In Medias Res,” “There Are Listed Buildings,” “Romance is Boring,” “We’ve Got Your Back,” “Plan A,” “Straight in at 101,” “Heart Swells/100-1,” “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future,” “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,”