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once-upon-an-imagine · 2 years ago

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Love Of My Life - Eddie Munson

A/N: aaahhh I absolutely LOVED this so much and this is my first Eddie Munson imagine! I just NEEDED soft Eddie! I hope you loves like it!

Request: jeyramarie asked: a chill date with eddie, where him and reader just stay in his room listening to music and he realizes that he’s falling in love 😭😭

Warnings: reader mentions of sex maybe? if you squint; other than that this is pure fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things :D gif isn’t mine :)

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Love Of My Life

Love of my life, don't leave me You've taken my love, and now desert me

“Okay, okay, listen to this part, this is the best part! Are you listening?”

“I’m listening” you giggled.

You could only smile as Eddie got up from his bed and walked over to the record player to turn the volume up.

“Fuck! Are you hearing this? This is why they are geniuses!” he said, grabbing his guitar and playing along to the riff of Van Halen’s ‘Hot For Teacher’. You couldn’t help but laugh as he jumped on the bed, playing and singing along to the song until it ended.

“Eddie!” you said between laughs. “Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself” you said, sitting up as he landed on his knees in front of you.

“So? What do you think?” he asked as the song died down. “Do you like them? Do you love them? Are they the best band you have ever heard?”

“It was okay” you smiled, instantly dropping the smirk off his face.

“Excuse me?” he said, removing his guitar and placing it back in its place before returning to you. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I liked it. It was a good song” you repeated.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it? I’m telling you I liked it” you asked, confused.

“Alright, you are lucky that you’re beautiful because if anybody else said that Van Halen is just okay” he mocked your voice and you rolled your eyes, laughing. “I would seriously punch them in the face-!”

“Hey!” you punched his shoulder playfully and he sat next to you with his back against the headboard and his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it” you argued.

“No. You just said it was okay. You might as well tell me you hate me while you’re at it!”

“Eddie, stop being so dramatic” you laughed pulling him and giving him a peck on the lips. “Fine, Eddie Van Halen is one of the best-”

“No. He is the best guitarist of our time!”

“Fine! He is the best guitarist of our time” you rolled your eyes. “And I liked the song and I like the band” you assured him. “And that his name is the same as yours” you smiled.

“Really?”

“Yes, because I like you and you like them so I do too” you assured him.

“No! I don’t want you to like them because I do. I want you to like them because you want to like them” he insisted.

“What’s the difference? I’m saying I like them” you argued. “Would you stop pouting?” you laughed, giving him a peck on the lips.

“You are just blinded by your stupid old band-!”

“Whoa! Hey!” you sat up, moving away from him. “Take that back! I didn’t call your bands any names and we’ve been listening to them for hours and Megadeth, Iron Maiden, Mötorhead, and Guns N’ Roses-”

“Because they are good bands!” he mocked you.

“Well, so is Queen! You even like some of their songs!”

“I’m not saying they’re not good” Eddie laughed, pulling you to him again. “I’m just saying most of their good songs are from ages ago” he said. “Plus, you only like them because you have a crush on the drummer-”

“I am… not going to dignify that with a response” you said, getting up and crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I do not like them just because Roger Taylor is the hottest man alive” you said, looking through your albums.

“Hey-!”

“After you” you added. “Even if you kind of look like a mix of him and John Deacon” you muttered.

“I heard that!”

“But Brian is one of the greatest guitarists of all time and don’t even get me started on Freddie Mercury!”

“Alright, calm down, princess” he laughed, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’ll admit they have some really kickass songs like Bohemian Rhapsody-”

“Some?” you scoffed. “See? That’s your problem. You’ve only heard some of their songs. And since you’re basing this on guitars, then here” you said, showing him your album. “This is Queen’s best album yet. A Night At The Opera” you said as Eddie’s smile got bigger. “And this” you said, putting the record on side two. “This is their most beautiful song” you said as soft music, completely different from what you two had been listening to for the past hour, started playing. “It’s so beautiful” you said, smiling.

“Well-”

“Shh, you’re not allowed to talk right now” you said, kneeling at the end of his bed and looking at him before you closed your eyes, listening to the song.

But Eddie didn’t mind. He sat up and just gazed at you. He felt his smile getting bigger at the image of you. You were wearing nothing more than your underwear and his Hellfire Club shirt.

Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart And now you leave me

“Come here” he said, opening his arms to you and you turned to look at him.

“You’re not supposed to talk-”

“I won’t, just come here” he said, waving his hands and you made your way to him. “Jesus Christ, you’re so stubborn when you want to be” he said, wrapping his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest.

“Shut up” you chuckled.

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it means to me (means to me)

Eddie had no idea how he got to be so lucky. Him. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson had the best person in this world lying in his arms. He still remembered the first time he saw you. A year ago. Well, if he was being exact, ten months, three weeks, five days, and eight hours. But he wasn’t counting of course. The moment he had seen you stand up to Jason Carver, defending Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler, he knew you were something special. He finally had the guts to talk to you a few weeks later when he walked over to you and asked you to help him in English. And then, you two realized you had a lot of things in common. He loved the way you made him feel. He loved your smile, especially when he made you smile. He loved how you always listened to him when he talked about things he liked, even if you didn’t understand or like them yourself. He loved how you always asked him if he had already eaten or if he slept okay and you always took care of him.

Love of my life, don't leave me You've taken my love (all my love) And now desert me

He couldn’t believe that you were his. After being friends for months, he was finally brave enough to kiss you and tell you how he felt. He was over the moon when you told him you felt the same way. You were the most beautiful person he had ever met and you chose him. You felt Eddie’s lips press a kiss against your forehead and you looked up to smile at him.

“What?” you asked, feeling your heart flutter at the way he was looking at you.

“Nothing” he smiled back at you. “It’s a good song” he said.

Love of my life, can't you see? (Please, bring it) Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it means to me

“Listen” you said quietly, pulling away from him a little and getting on your knees as you listened to Brian May’s guitar. “Everything is just… so beautiful. The music. The lyrics” you told him. Eddie smiled at how you listened closely to the music, never letting go of his hand, and looked lovingly at him. “Quit looking at me like that” you smiled, feeling your cheeks burning.

“I love you” he blurted out, making you widen your eyes in surprise and he did the same when he realized what he had just said.

“Y-you what?”

You will remember When this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older I will be there at your side To remind you how I still love you (I still love you)

“Shit! I shouldn’t have said anything” he said, panicking and he got up from his bed. “I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“Eddie-”

“It was just the song and- and you have my shirt on and-”

“Eddie!” you said standing up on his bed as he walked around in circles in front of it.

“It’s your fault, you know? Because-”

“Edward!” you yelled, making him stop and look at you. You placed your hands on his cheeks and leaned down to kiss him. “I love you too” you said when you pulled away.

Hurry back, hurry back Please, bring it back home to me Because you don't know What it means to me (means to me)

"You do?" He asked, feeling an enormous weight being lifted off his shoulders and his smile got bigger and brighter than you had ever seen it.

"Of course, I do" you giggled, placing your arms around his shoulders and he placed his hands on your hips. "You're my favorite person in the world!"

"Why?" he asked, frowning.

"What do you mean why?"

" I mean, you are just the most perfect person in the entire world and I am just… a freak" he said, letting out a smile.

"First of all, you're not a freak" you said, sitting down on his bed and pulling you with him. "You're the king of freaks" you smirked at him as you played with his hands and he glared at you a little. "And that is exactly why I love you" you smiled. "You don't give a shit about what anyone says about you, you're just who you want to be, and… you are sweet, even if you don't let me say that out loud" you said and he rolled his eyes. "And you are so smart, even if you try to make people believe that you're not for some reason" you chuckled. "You're passionate about the things you love" you said, smiling brightly at him. "You are really funny, you always make me laugh and smile and... you're always taking care of me and the people who matter to you and… you’re the love of my life" you finished, smiling.

Love of my life Love of my life Ooh, ooh

“Did you just say that last part because you want this to be our song?” he complained and you laughed.

“No” you laughed. “It’s a beautiful song, but… it’s a sad song” you said and he leaned in to kiss you again. “But… I do mean it” you assured him.

“I mean it too” he said, placing your face gently between his hands. “I love you so much” he said, giving you another kiss. “And you are the love of my life” he smiled.

“Does this mean that I can say you’re sweet out loud now?”

“No!”

“Why not?” you pouted.

“Why not? I am the Head of the Hellfire Club” he said. “I am the Dungeon Master leading the campaign of the Cult of Vecna! I will not be referred to as sweet- stop looking at me like that!”

“I thought you love me” you pouted, looking at him with puppy eyes. Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Fine” he said and you smiled triumphantly at him as he kissed you again happily. “But not in front of the Club!”

“Fair enough” you said, kissing his cheek. “I love you” you said, laying down on his chest again.

“I love you too, princess” he said, kissing your temple.

The End

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Song: Love Of My Life - Queen

A/N: aaaahhh xD hope you guys liked it :D

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot

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nowhereisnearmyhome · 2 years ago

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The Replacements: The Pleasure Is All Yours by Bill Holdship // CREEM September 1987

The Replacements with Holdship and Kordosh on KROQ LA

Article Transcript Under The Cut

For the most part, I hate rock ’n’ roll. Probably not the smartest thing to admit in print, and I wish it wasn’t true. I used to love it. Worshipped it. Thought it was one of the most important things in my life. Just the mention of it could conjure up images that were like magic. In many ways, rock ’n’ roll had replaced Disneyland. Today, I generally prefer Disneyland.

Because—beyond all the hype and the fakery and the right radio sound and the talentless dreck and the I’m-cooler-than-you-isms and the nausea—rock ’n’ roll was always funny. Elvis was funny. So was James Brown. The Beatles were comic geniuses. Both Dylan and the Stones could be hilarious in their irreverence. Jim Morrison belched into his microphone during the quiet part of “When The Music’s Over” at the Hollywood Bowl. That’s funny. From doo wop through punk, rock ’n’ roll always had a sense of humor, even when it was being serious or brutal, especially when it was being great. It wasn’t a bunch of “superstars”—with probably one-tenth of the talent John Lennon possessed sitting around being more serious and more pretentious and more morose than Lennon ever imagined. Working class heroes, indeed.

For the most part, I love the Replacements.

[page break]

“It’s not that you hate rock ’n’ roll,” says Tommy Stinson. “It’s that you hate everything that goes with rock ’n’ roll. And we aren’t rock ’n’ roll. We play rock ’n’ roll. We aren’t rock ’n’ roll.”

After a short pause, Paul Westerberg retorts in his gravelly voice that’s only going to get raspier before this night is through: “We are, too!”

“We’re not fuckin’ rock ’n’ roll,” replies Tommy with his ever-present laugh. “We don’t wear tight pants and we’re not on the radio and...”

“But that ain’t rock ’n’ roll,” says Paul. “See, that’s the whole thing.”

[page break]

I don’t wanna make any grand proclamations here or anything, but the Replacements are probably the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world right now. And Pleased To Meet Me is probably the best rock LP of 1987, if not the ’80s. If you’ve ever loved rock ’n’ roll, you’ve gotta love this record. It’s reminiscent of everything from the Beatles and Beach Boys to Exile-era Stones and the Memphis Sound to Blue Oyster Cult and the Sex Pistols. The list could go on. And, yeah, Alex Chilton is great and king of the wild frontier and everything, and Paul wrote a tribute song for him on the LP— but I think Pleased To Meet Me is actually as good as any Big Star, Box Tops or solo Chilton record I’ve ever heard.

Paul Westerberg loves rock ’n’ roll as much as all the folks mentioned above. Or, as he said about his songwriting during a radio interview later that night: “I do it because it comes naturally. I have no other skills.” And songs like “Left Of The Dial,” “Alex Chilton” or “The Ledge” are as good as any I’ve ever heard. Just listen to his guitar work on this LP; Pleased To Meet Me is the band’s first LP since the departure of original lead guitarist (and Tommy’s brother) Bob Stinson. “They actually let me sit down to play this time,” says Paul—and it’s terrific. The Attitude is there. The music is there. This is rock ’n’ roll I don’t have to hate.

A year ago, J. Kordosh and I met up with Paul and bassist Tommy (now 20—“I’ve grown a few whiskers since then”—and a great guy) in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Tommy played Mutt to Paul’s Jeff or vice versa. We had come to question them about the “joke,” these rumors of “greatness,” and some pretty silly shows we’d seen them do. They got us— or actually we got ourselves—very drunk. Tommy smashed bottles against the wall. It was one of the best interviews we think we’ve ever done. And the show they performed .. .well, they even made “Johnny B. Goode” sound refreshing and new (no small feat). They conjured up images that were like magic, and left me proclaiming them “the greatest band in the universe” on that particular night.

So, it’s a year later, and we’re sitting in a bar on Sunset Blvd. in L.A., which is where J. and I now live. (TOMMY: “You stupid shits!”; PAUL: “No, no. Actually, I’d rather spend two days in L.A. than, uh, than, uh, three.”) “We’re on a promotional tour,” says Paul. “Get a load of that!” Drummer Chris Mars didn’t show up, but the band’s new manager, Gary, is here with the first pressing of the band’s latest single (which Tommy urges us to break, and Paul finally does), as is Slim, the band’s brand new guitarist who hasn’t played live or on vinyl with them yet. Slim doesn’t want to talk about himself too much—“He won’t tell us things about himself, like about where he grew up and stuff,” says Tommy—but he’s one heck of a nice guy, and he sure likes talking about the guitar solos of Scotty Moore and Hank Garland after Paul punches in “Little Sister” on the jukebox, and about the time he played with Bo Diddley, and about the time he almost got to play with Chuck Berry. We also know that he’s married, originally from a small town, and as big of a Replacements fan as anyone reading this article.

So this wasn’t an interview per se. The tape recorder was running at the beginning of the night—but this turned into, into. . .a drunken orgy. Yeah! That’s the ticket. No, actually, it was just having some fun and a few (well, actually many) drinks with some regular, funny guys who also happen to be in the greatest rock n roll band in the world. They don’t want to be famous. They do want people to listen to their music. It’s a dilemma, to be sure, but any angst Westerberg ever displays (and it’s obviously there) generally takes an optimistic form. The following salvageable—and printable (see, you had to be there)—quotes aren’t all totally in context. But, hey, give us a break, we were smashed, OK?

ON THE TOUR

PAUL: “Hey, we use a set list now.” TOMMY: “We’ve got a stage set-up. We’ve got lights, we’ve got props...” PAUL: “We’ve got lights, we’ve got dancers, we’ve got...”

TOMMY: “We’ve got big dinks onstage...”

BILL: “How about horn players?” PAUL: “No. Although we may have a horn player. I talked to a guy the other day—one of the interviewers. He plays baritone sax, and he said, ‘I’ll come down and honkV ”

ON THE BEASTIE BOYS

TOMMY: “They could use a good swift kick in the groin.” (Laughter)

J.: “Wow, this is like the last interview, except no one’s gotten mean yet.”

TOMMY: Well, I m going to start right now! We’re assholes! Hey, do you know any place in town where we can get ‘butt’ masks? (The laughter is now at uncontrollable extremes.) We want some ‘butt’ masks to wear to our promotional party tomorrow night.”

ON THE LP TITLE,

PAUL: “It’s Tommy’s fault.”

TOMMY: “The only thing is they screwed up the whole idea. They took part of the idea. The whole idea was simpler than it looks, and it doesn’t look that great. The album cover sucks. But after three months of working on a record, you don’t want to worry about an album cover or a video. So you turn it over to them.”

PAUL: “They’ve got it like (sarcastically) ‘Pleased To Meet Me.’ And, no, it’s like ‘Pleased—you know, get it?—to meet you, sir.’ I guess they didn’t get it.”

(Paul also mentions that, of the 23 tracks recorded for the album, several will be released as single “B” sides, including a cover of the Sons Of The Pioneers’ “Cool Water” with Chris Mars on lead vocals.)

ON PLAYING EUROPE LAST YEAR

TOMMY: “After seven years of trying to get to a certain point, you go over there and it totally deflates your ego.”

PAUL: ‘‘You’re sitting in a fucking hamster cage hotel room, and you’re playing to a bunch of stupid skinheads. And you realize how much of an asshole you really are because you wanna ride in a big Cadillac and eat pot roast. And there’s all these teeny cars, and this bullshit food. There were some good gigs in London, but no one had heard of us over there.”

TOMMY: “We were like brothers, though, because we were locked in a van and we had to talk to each other because they couldn’t speak English.”

J.: “That would be like Krokus touring over here. They can’t speak English very well.”

PAUL: “They can’t play worth a shit, either.”

ON ATTRACTING A METAL AUDIENCE

BILL: “You could conceivably cross over to a metal crowd.”

TOMMY: “You think so? Well, I guess it has the same tempo and stuff. Yeah, but you’d still have to wear studs. At least with this record, there won’t be as many skankers. They’ll know from this one that we’re not up there with Black Flag.”

ON BOB STINSON’S DEPARTURE FROM THE BAND

TOMMY: “We had some artistic differences...”

PAUL: “He just learned that last night.”

TOMMY: “Well, I’ve been searching for the easiest way to say something without saying anything. And someone said, ‘Oh, you had artistic differences?’ Yeah, that’s it. Easy enough. It was something that had been building up for awhile, and, to be honest, he’s a lot happier now. He’s in a band where he does more of his own style of music, and he plays leads.”

PAUL: “You guys summed up Bob perfectly in the last story. I can’t remember exactly...”

BILL: “ ‘Eyes like cherries in a vat Of buttermilk.’ ”

PAUL: “Exactly. It makes no sense to talk about Bob. You’ve met him, you’ve seen him. Anyone who’s met him knows what Bob is like. We don’t want to tell everyone that doesn’t know.”

J.: “He’s in another band?”

TOMMY: “Yeah. And he’s a lot happier. And he’s spending a lot more time with his wife, which was causing him personal problems. He’d leave town, and he just wouldn’t be happy. So he’s happier now.

I don’t see him much, but I know that he is.”

ON “ALEX CHILTON”

PAUL: “We did it because he paid us. No, I figured it would be good to come right out in the open and say it. Instead of stealing his licks, we thought it would be good to come out and say, ‘Yes, we love Alex’s stuff, so here’s a song about him,’ rather than ape his style like so many bands do, and then claim, ‘Oh, no, we never listen to him.’ Plus, we needed something to rhyme with ‘million,’ and ‘Chilton’ was the closest I could get.”

A FREE PLUG

PAUL: “We mentioned ’em the last time, and you didn’t write anything about them, so you should mention the Young Fresh Fellows from Seattle. If you think we’re good, they’re the best band in the world. They’re like the new NRBQ, only sloppier."

ON THEIR VIDEO

TOMMY: “What do you guys think we should do for a video?”

PAUL: “Yeah, we have to come up with a concept in about half an hour tonight, and then go in and do it tomorrow.”

TOMMY: “Think of something as stupid as what we did before.”

PAUL: “But not necessarily. If it’s for The Ledge,’ that’s the only stipulation. If it was ‘I Don’t Know,’ we could do a really stupid one. But we don’t want to do something that makes the song look dumb.”

TOMMY: “But we don’t want to do anything relevant either.”

ON THE FUTURE

PAUL “...or an invitation to my wedding.”

BILL: “Are you getting married?”

PAUL: “You bet you, by golly, wow. Yeah, in October.”

BILL: “To Lori (his longtime girlfriend)?”

PAUL: “Well, what did you think?”

TOMMY: “Actually, his name is Ike.”

PAUL: “Yeah, fucking Morrissey’s going to do the ceremony.”

IDEAS FOR A CREEM/ REPLACEMENTS CONTEST

PAUL: “How about ‘Cut the Replacements’ hair’?”

TOMMY:,“Nah, we’ll get some fucker that wants to give us a Mohawk. I ain’t gettin’ no Mohawk.”

PAUL: “ ‘Smell the Replacements’ socks.’ ”

TOMMY: “ ‘Sock the Replacements.’ ”

PAUL: “Let’s make it ‘slap.’ ”

TOMMY: “How about ‘comb’ my hair?”

PAUL: “Ah, that’s it! ‘Comb the Replacements’ hair.’ We could have it live on MTV.”

TOMMY: “Yeah, that’ll be great. Someone’ll give us dreadlocks, and we’ll look like fuckin’ Bob Marley for a month! No. I’ve got it! I’ve got it! The Replacements Contest: ‘Win A Night With R.E.M.!’ ”

ON THE FUTURE, PT. II

J.: “You guys should be glum.”

PAUL: “We should be glum?”

J.: “Well, you’re so good, you should be more recognized.”

PAUL: “No, we’re very happy with this.”

TOMMY: “There’s nothing about this that attracts us more than the music.”

PAUL: “This gives us the opportunity if we want to have our ego stroked, we can go where people know us. I would hate to have people knowing you and stuff. I hope we don’t get real big. Just think if we got as big as Bon Jovi or something, we wouldn’t be able to do what we’re doing here now. That would take the fun out of this.”

J.: “Well, I’d like to see you guys make lots of money.”

PAUL: “Nah, we’re much better off not making lots of money.”

ON PRODUCER JIM DICKINSON

PAUL: “He produced Big Star 3, and that’s all he really ever did.”

TOMMY: “And he knows Dr. Nick.”

BILL: “I saw this thing in U.S.A. Today about Elvis’s supposed illegitimate daughter..

TOMMY: “I hate thinking about illegitimate kids.

BILL: “And they quoted Dr. Nick. I guess he’s respected in Memphis again.”

PAUL: “Memphis is like that. You can go to a doctor and say ‘I want to lose some weight,’ and he’ll give you speed. Or ‘I need to relax,’ and he’ll give you Valium. All this shady bullshit.”

BILL: “Did you go to Graceland when you were recording in Memphis?”

PAUL: “No. Elvis used to live there. It was too depressing. I thought it would be in bad taste. I didn’t want to go in there.”

BILL: “Well, the Beastie Boys went there when they were in Memphis.

PAUL: “Yeah, but the Beastie Boys are crass assholes. C’mon, I’ll fight ’em right now, goddammit!”

A CLASS ACT

PAUL: “We’re classy assholes.”

TOMMY: “A lot of this is kind of a joke. I mean, I laughed for five minutes straight this afternoon for no fuckin’ apparent reason.”

I rest my case.

[page break]

Following this segment of the interview, the Replacements go to dinner with some record company people to discuss the video—but somehow we all end up at a club in L.A. where the Long Ryders are playing. The drinks are still a’flowin’. The record company and management want Paul and Tommy to go on a prominent, powerful “new music” station (“Put on the oldies station,” says Paul on the drive there) for an interview. Paul doesn’t want to do it, but finally agrees if Kordosh and I will go on the air with him and say we’re “gay.” (NOTE: This “gay" thing started earlier in the day, and was based around the humor of the double entendre. It got funnier as we got drunker. It had nothing to do with homophobia or hating homosexuals. We even discussed the Beastie Boys’ anti-gay statements, and Paul said, “We’re not anti-gay at all.” And Tommy added: “Have you ever looked up ‘gay’ in the dictionary? It means happy.” I mentioned that Sam Cooke sang about people being “so gay,” and that Elvis sang “I m gay every morning, at night I'm still the same,” and that Dave Edmunds recently changed that word to something else on his cover of the song. Aren’t “loaded” words great?)

So we’re sitting in a radio studio at one a.m., watching as Westerberg, with a look of terror on his face, looks up and mouths the word “Help!” Things get a little out of control. He tells the DJ that “Alex Chilton” is really about “our new guitarist, Slim. See, Slim is Alex Chilton’s alter ego.” Kordosh, who’s pretty darn drunk, ends up answering the studio phones over the air. Probably a bad—but very funny—idea.

Some typical moments:

DJ: “When are you playing in town?”

PAUL: “Maybe tomorrow night.”

DJ: "Where?”

PAUL: “I don’t know.”

DJ: (sarcastically) “That’s a good answer, my friend. The next song up is ‘I.O.U.’ What can you tell us about it?”

PAUL: (not at all mean-spirited) “God, he’s got a great voice, don’t he?”

TOMMY: “It’s a fake voice. Listen to him.”

PAUL: “No, he’s a fucking professional... Ooops. I’m not supposed to swear, I guess.”

KORDOSH: “Why don’t you talk in your normal voice?”

DJ: “I’m afraid it doesn’t change much this time of night.”

KORDOSH: “No, seriously, talk in your own voice.”

OR:

DJ: “How many songs did Paul write on the album?”

PAUL: “Paul wrote ’em all. (pause) Paul’s a creep. He takes all the credit.”

DJ: “Does anyone else in the band write songs?”

PAUL: “Tommy and Chris also write songs. They’re just not as good as Paul.”

TOMMY: “That’s the truth.”

DJ: “Uh, huh.”

(Everyone howls, except the DJ)

DJ: “Why do you write songs?”

PAUL: “I do it to make Tommy and Chris look bad. (pause) No, I do it because I’m ‘gay.’ ”

DJ: “What can you tell us about the new. single, The Ledge’?”

PAUL: “Well, it’s in E minor, and if you’re following along at home—E minor, C major seventh, D suspended with a B seven turnaround.”

OR:

DJ: (Obviously very peeved) “Well, thank you for coming into the studio, guys.”

PAUL: “It’s been your pleasure.”

People talk about outrageous radio, but I’ve listened to a tape of this interview at least a dozen times, and I always end up on the floor. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.

[page break]

The following morning, a DJ smashes a copy of the Replacements’ Pleased To Meet Me LP over the air, saying he can’t understand how a major record label could ever “sign a band like this.” Personally, I don’t know why any major record label in their right minds wouldn’t want to sign a band like this.

But then, I hate rock ’n’ roll.

#the replacements #creem magazine #creem archives #just realized today that the archives have the transcripts already written out.... i do not have to manually type it myself.....#i couldve saved myself 2 hours yesterday LKJDSHGFJDFG

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lsd-astronaut · 2 years ago

Text

Speak To Me

Pairing: David Gilmour x F!Reader

Request: davide caring for you after youve had a mental breakdown over your musical progress (with guitar ir whatever) - which has not been the greatest - but with his help you get motivated and calmed down <33 can have some smutty innuendos if necersary but mainly floofy pls thank uuu

“I think I’m going to give up guitar.” You blurted out as your boyfriend David and you sat together on the kitchen table. He choked on the tea he was drinking and widened his eyes as he reached for a napkin to clean his mouth.

“Excuse me??” David almost yelled. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“Exactly what I just said. I’ll give up guitar.”

“And do what?” David raised an eyebrow.

You looked down and bit your bottom lip. “I don’t know… Maybe get a real job that gets me real money.”

David hummed and furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with you?” Deep inside, you knew his harsh tone wasn’t on purpose but the last days had taken a toll on you and so your head couldn’t handle it anymore.

With a slam on the wooden table, you stood up and walked to your shared bedroom, ignoring David’s puzzled expression when you slammed the door shut. You immediately got in your bed and covered yourself with the blankets. Tears threatened to spill over and you let them run free as you curled into yourself.

You didn’t even notice the door creaking open and your boyfriend’s worried face peeking in. His eyes widened when he heard a sniffle and he rushed to the bed. You noticed the mattress sinking but you tried to ignore it. However, David started stroking your arm gently and with his other hand he put some strands of your hair behind your ear as he leaned to kiss your cheek.

“I’m here if you need me, darling.” He whispered as he gave your ear a tiny peck.

That was all you needed for the floodgates to open as you started openly crying while holding to his waist. Davide just shushed you quietly as he rubbed your back with his right hand and your hair with his left one.

Once he made sure you had calmed down after some minutes, he leaned down and kissed your nose, making you scrunch it up a bit as a giggle bubbled up your throat.

“There’s my girl.” David smiled. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

You nodded softly and took a sitting position. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t apologise for that nonsense, Y/N. It’s a natural reaction if you’ve had a hard time lately.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I’ve been having no progress with my guitar and it made me overthink about it. How I will never be a famous guitarist like you or make such good songs-”

David cut you off with a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he smiled as he noticed your closed eyes. “Don’t be silly. You’re way better than me. And if you ever need help, I’ll be your teacher.”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to have a hot guitar teacher.” You laughed as you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Well, you won the lottery.” David winked at you as he leaned forward to kiss you yet again.

#pink floyd #pink floyd imagines #pink floyd x reader #classic rock #classic rock x reader #classic rock imagines #david gilmour #david gilmour imagine #david gilmour x reader

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randomvarious · 3 years ago

Audio

Cathy Dennis - “Touch Me (All Night Long)” Dance Mix USA by Markus Klinke, Rawle James, Rob Rettberg Song released in 1990. Mix released in 1994. Dance-Pop / House

Found a really good article in The Guardian from 2008 that tracks the career of Cathy Dennis, a brief, early 90s UK pop-house princess who was shaped in a similar mold to Kylie Minogue, and then went behind the curtain to become one of the most successful and prolific pop songwriters of all time:

It is a measure of how disposable pop music is and how fickle listeners are that Cathy Dennis is, for many, only half remembered. We might struggle to think of one of her songs, only vaguely recall what she looks like. Yet, she was a star: she had 10 consecutive UK top 40 hit singles in the 1990s and was even more adored in the US and Japan.

For anyone still trying to remember, the lyrics "hold me baby / drive me crazy / touch me / all night long" should ring some bells.

Today she is one of the most important women in the pop industry, as one of its most prolific songwriters. She went into the history books when the song she wrote for Katy Perry, I Kissed A Girl, recently became the 1,000th number one record in the Billboard US charts. Last Sunday the single reached number one in the UK charts and has become one of the songs of the summer. Quite simply, without such talented writers as Dennis the whole mad pop machine would fall apart.

The number of pop songs that Dennis has had a hand in is staggering. To name but a few: Toxic by Britney Spears, Never Had a Dream Come True by S Club 7, Anything is Possible by Will Young, About You Now by the Sugababes, Sweet Dreams My LA Ex by Rachel Stevens, and on and on.

But there is one song she co-wrote, with former Mud guitarist Rob Davis, that will be the subject of pop culture essays for years to come. Not only did Can't Get You Out of My Head rescue Kylie Minogue's then floundering career in 2001, it is, for many, one of the greatest pop songs ever.

You get all that? This pop singer that most people thought had just faded into obscurity (including you, admit it!) is behind "Can't Get You Out of My Head," "Toxic," and "I Kissed a Girl." And so much more, actually. Those grafs don't mention it, but Dennis has worked very closely with Simon Fuller throughout her entire career. If you don't know who Simon Fuller is, I wrote very cynically of him in a long post about S Club 7 during quarantine. When Fuller discovered Dennis when she was just 17, he was the manager for Paul Hardcastle, who at the time had recently triumphed with the 1985 anti-Vietnam War UK megahit, "19." But throughout the 90s, Fuller managed to manufacture and amass himself a British pop music empire, and Cathy Dennis was alongside him in some capacity just about every step of the way.

The Spice Girls? That was Fuller's invention. And guess who wrote the B-Side for Wannabe? Cathy Dennis. S Club 7? Another Fuller project. Guess who wrote a bunch of their songs? Cathy Dennis. Pop Idol and American Idol? Guess who wrote their theme songs? Cathy Dennis. Winners of those contests, like Kelly Clarkson and Clay Aiken; guess who wrote some of their songs, too? Cathy Dennis.

You've heard so much more Cathy Dennis in your life than you probably thought you actually ever had. And that's not an exhaustive list either. She's also written songs for Celine Dion, P!nk, Ariana Grande, Christina Aguilera, Little Mix, Carrie Underwood, and David Guetta. And she's worked with Mark Ronson and has written with Primal Scream, too(?!).

So, here's the song that really set things off for Dennis: "Touch Me (All Night Long)," a marimba-laced sonic piece of cotton candy (it's light, fluffy, and sugary!) that was able to keep her on the dancefloor while also occupying the top 40 airwaves, and charted high across multiple continents. Co-produced by the one and only Shep Pettibone, this new and improved cover of a mid-80s electro-freestyle-post-disco tune by Wish and Fonda Rae has found ways to remain on gobs of early 90s playlists and mixes throughout the years. It's not an earth-shattering song in and of itself, but there is something to be said about its overall ubiquitousness. "Touch Me (All Night Long)" had very broad appeal. It fit on a wide range of radio formats, all the way from adult contemporary to contemporary dance. And there's really not that many songs out there that have had that level of versatility, much less in 1991. That's ultimately why this thing smashed; it's an inextricable piece of the early 90s, both as just straight-ahead radio pop and also for the clubs; a song that youthful dance hedonists and their fuddy-duddy parents could both find ways to enjoy. Kind of remarkable, no?

Warm, bouncy bass stabs, sets of dreamy strings that float and soar, perpetually ticking hats, a dash of wah-organ stabs, that aforementioned marimba, and a catchy, singalong pre-chorus and chorus. If I was writing for some music publication about this song when it came out and "Can't Get You Out of My Head" somehow predated it, and if I was also a really corny fuck, I might say something like, "this is a song that we just can't get out of our heads, either!" But none of those conditions I just made up are real, so I won't do that to you 😁.

youtube

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 4 years ago

Text

The Interview: Part One

Title: The Interview - A Luke x Reader One Shot

Words: 3,177

Summary: Y/N gets to interview Sunset Curve when they finally go on tour near where she lives.

TW: None

Author’s notes: Ok… the interview part is kind of inspired by a glorious evening when myself and a friend got to interview our favourite band just before a gig. I was much clumsier that Y/N and made a complete fool of myself on more than one occasion, but it seemed to have worked because they loved the interview – or so they told us.

I hope you like it. I’m not 100% with it, but didn’t want to drag it out for the hell of it. This is set in the UK, so spellings may be a little different.

(credit @nikascott)

The first time you heard Now or Never, you knew there was something special about Sunset Curve. Their lyrics and the beats of their pop rock tracks made you feel amazing and you couldn’t help but dance every time you heard them.

You spent all your time online anyway, so you decided to set up a Sunset Curve fan account. You didn’t expect much to come out of it due to bein in the UK while they were based in the US. But you religiously shared photos of the guys, wrote funny articles about them after speaking to people who’d been to their shows. Shared credited photos from gigs which soon got you respect from the fans and you began to build up a following.

You managed to fit running the account single handed, fitting it in between being at university studying for your degree in media and working part time. You’re not in it for the recognition, you just want to show your appreciation for a band you love.

Your best friend, Carrie, doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how you can spend so much time expelling energy on four guys you’re never going to meet, but she indulges you because you also run one for her band, Dirty Candi. Your friend and the rest of her group are insanely talented, and even though they’re not a genre you tend to listen to, you support them because that’s what friends do.

It’s been a year since you’d first heard Now or Never and since you set up the account. You’ve amassed over ten thousand followers, most of whom are also in the UK, when you get your first band member follow. Bobby Wilson, the rhythm guitarist likes a post you shared about him and promptly follows you. You get constant likes from him and sometimes the odd comment. Your followers go insane but you manage to keep calm, ish.

The second follow is Alex, the drummer. This time you do go a bit crazy, because he’s adorable and you can’t help be a little in love with him.

It takes less than a day after Alex’s follow before the bassist, Reggie to follow you and send your notifications into overdrive by commenting on a ton of posts. You scream into a pillow on your bed because it’s 2 a.m. and you don’t want to wake Carrie up.

The one follow you’re waiting for doesn’t come. Luke Patterson, the lead singer and your favourite member hasn’t joined his bandmates, and while you never expected it, you’re more than a little upset by the fact.

“Honey, he’s like a Rockstar. He’s got more important things to do than follow fan accounts online.” Carrie was right, but it still stung a bit.

“I know, but…”

“Y/N, sweetie. I adore you, but you need to let it go. I don’t want you working yourself up over this, please. Why don’t we have a girlie night, just the two of us? We’ll watch cheesy films, eat junk food, and sing bad karaoke. No phones.”

“I love you, do you know that?” I told her.

“How could you not?” She flicked her pastel pink hair over her shoulder with a laugh before going to prepare snacks while I got the lounge ready for an evening of lazing around.

:: ::

Halfway through The Greatest Showman, Carrie falls asleep, so after you cover her over with a blanket, you pull your phone out of the box she hid it in and scroll through social media.

|Hey, @SunsetCurveFansUK did you see this??

Included in the message is a link to the official Sunset Curve account. You click on it and there’s a note from the band. Announcing a UK tour. You begin to hyperventilate as you try and prevent yourself from screaming out loud, but it doesn’t work and you let out a loud squeak, waking Carrie up.

“What’s wrong? Y/N, are you okay?” She sounds worried, so you shove your phone at her, unable to speak. “Oh, wow. This is cool. Start saving because I know you’re gonna want to go to every show.”

“Yes, yes I will.” Getting to your feet, you do a crazy dance around the small lounge of your apartment, making Carrie laugh. You only realise at the last minute that she’s recording you. “Don’t you dare post that online.” You warn her.

“Too late, sweetie. It’s already on my story and I tagged the band.”

“I hate you. Worst friend ever, I think I’ll advertise for a new one.” You grumble, making her laugh as you settle down on the couch to catch up on everything you’ve missed online.

:: ::

When tickets go on sale, you’re disappointed they guys are only doing four dates in the UK, but you buy yourself a ticket to all of them. Sadly, they don’t offer up any VIP tickets because they’re running contests for fans to win them for each show. Their tour manager, Trevor – who also happens to Bobby’s dad – has messaged your account asking if you’d like the opportunity to interview the band as a thank you for all the work you’d put into promoting them.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You’re gonna meet the band, your favourite band.” Carrie is grinning, happy for you as you stare at the message on your phone screen in disbelief. “Are you going to reply?”

“I… er… what is going on?” You stare over at your best friend who’s grinning widely at you. “This is a joke, right? Someone’s pulling the ultimate prank on me, aren’t they?”

“Y/N, look. For over a year, you’ve been pimping out those guys like crazy. You’ve increased their fan base here, which has made them want to tour here, and now they’re offering you this amazing opportunity. Take it and run with it, You deserve it.”

At her words, you reopen the message and reply to Trevor, saying you’d be honoured to do the interview. Then you freak out.

:: ::

The night of the first show and you’re hovering outside the venue waiting for Trevor to come and meet you once the guys finish their sound check. You can faintly hear the strains of Now or Never, and you get goosebumps. Thankful you’re nowhere near where the queue to get in is growing longer and longer, you start to pace outside the door. It suddenly opens outwards, making you jump, and Trevor’s head appears before behind it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi.” You hold out a hand for him to shake, surprising him and yourself with how composed your voice sounds. He shakes your hand and then motions for you to enter the venue.

“Great to meet you. The guys all love your account.”

“That’s amazing to hear.” You make conversation as you follow Trevor through a maze of narrow corridors.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you approach a closed door. You can’t help but hesitate, making him look back at you in worry. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all just a bit… overwhelming.”

“Look, they’re great guys, as normal as they come. There’s no need to feel nervous around them.” He smiles at you and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter. “Guys, this is Y/N from the UK fan account. Go easy on her, okay?” Once you’re fully inside the room, Trevor leaves and closes the door behind you.

“Hey,” Reggie speaks first as they all stand up. You shake hands and instantly feel at ease. “We all love your account, it’s very honest.” He’s clearly referring to your review of their last album where you openly said you weren’t a huge fan of a couple of the songs. It was an integrity you were determined to have on the account. You didn’t want to be seen as the type to blow smoke up their asses just because you were a fan.

“Thanks. I love running it. It keeps me busy and out of trouble, apparently.” You laugh as you pull a fold-up tripod out of your bag and set it up to record the guys for your account. “Do you mind if I film the interview?”

“Go ahead.” Alex waves his hand for you to continue. Once you’re set up, you pull out your journal with your questions written in.

“Hey, Luke. That looks like your journal.” Bobby comments, making the lead singer smile. So far, he hasn’t said much and it’s putting you on edge. Especially as he’s the only band member who hasn’t followed your account. Maybe he hates what you’ve done online. Trying to ignore the doubt, you press record on the video and start to ask the questions.

“My final two questions were submitted as part of a contest I put out to my followers. First up from Ellie is ‘if you could give the others a tattoo, what would it be and where?” As you’d hoped, the response to this question is all four of them bursting into laughter as Reggie’s face lights up.

“I pick Luke and would definitely get my face across his back.” You laugh at his enthusiasm. “Maybe if I get him drunk enough, I could at least get my name somewhere.

“Dude, there is no way I will ever have your name, any of your names, tattooed on me.” Luke grinned at them. “I’d probably get Bobby a dick, on his forehead. Just because it would be hilarious.”

You know Bobby is known as a bit of a womaniser and you’ve heard rumblings in the fandom that he’s slept with fans after shows, but you keep quiet as the guys laugh. Bobby picks a rainbow for Alex and Alex picks a cowboy hat for Reggie.

“Okay, the final question is from Sarah and her son Henry. ‘If the zombie apocalypse hit, who would be the first to die.”

“Reggie.” Three out of the four spoke in unison making the bassist pout and you laugh.

“But, we’d try our best to save him.” Alex pipes up, smiling at his friend. “We’d at least try to stick together, but if it’s a choice between me and them, I’m picking me every time.”

“That’s me finished,” you stop the recording. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to sit with me. I really appreciate it.”

All four guys reassure you it’s been their pleasure and that they enjoyed the interview which pleases you as it took you almost six weeks to think of questions that they hadn’t been asked hundreds of times before.

“I’ll leave you guys to get ready for the show. I need a drink.” You stand after packing everything away and move toward the door to leave.

“Hey, Y/N.” Reggie’s voice calling your name makes you turn back to face them. “We put together a little goodie bag of merch for you as a thank you for all the work you’ve done in helping promote us here in the UK.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” You’re blown away and speechless. “I do it because I enjoy it.”

“And it keeps you out of trouble?” Bobby winks at you. Unsure how to react, you smile a little, positive it looks more like a grimace. You take the overflowing bag and clutch it in your hand.

“Hey, we need a selfie.” Alex says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You suddenly find yourself between him and Luke, Alex’s arm slung over your shoulder and Luke’s hand resting on your waist. All you can feel is the head from his hand as you look at the camera Alex is holding out in front of you. Once he’s done, you take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of Luke before stepping away.

Another round of thank yous and you leave the room and close the door behind you. Then realise you have no idea which way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” Luke’s voice makes you jump.

“Yeah, I just can’t remember the way out.” You’re embarrassed to admit, but you have to meet up with Carrie in the queue. She’d finally agreed to come to at least one of the shows with you, but only one.

“It’s a bit of a maze, here’ I’ll show you the way.” Luke falls into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space.

“Thanks, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s no problem, I’m on a drink run for the guys anyway, and the bar’s this way.” He shrugged, his shoulder once again brushing against yours.

“Well, thanks again. And for doing the interview, I hope it wasn’t too much of a chore.”

“Nah, it was fun. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what it was gonna be like at first, but you had some great questions.”

Silence fell and you start to feel awkward walking through the venue with a guy you’d crushed on from afar for well over a year. Eventually, the maze of corridors opened out into an area you recognised.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, at the show I mean.” You feel like a complete idiot.

“Yeah, it should be a great show.” You give Luke a small wave and make your way towards the door where a member of the security gets ready to let you out.

“Y/N?” Luke calls out. You turn to look at him. “Do you want a drink?”

Stunned, you kind of freeze to the spot you’re standing in. After a moment, Luke mumbles something and turns to walk away.

“That would be great.” You call out, knowing Carrie would kill you if you said no. You return to Luke’s side and follow him into the space that would soon be filled with fans. The stage was set up with their instruments and you can’t help the shiver of excitement that goes through you.

“Are you cold?” Luke asks.

“No, I just had a chill.” Before you finish speaking, he’s pulled off the flannel shirt he’s wearing and handing it to you. “Honestly, there’s no need. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, take the damn shirt. It’s cold in here and you’re in a tank top.” He insists with a laugh.

“God, you’re pushy.” You snap at him playfully as you take the shirt and slide it on. It’s still warm from him wearing it and you resist the urge to bury your nose in it.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Just a beer is fine.” You pull some money out of your purse, but he waves it away as he hands over a card to the bartender.

As you take a sip of cold beer, your phone chirps with Carrie’s ringtone.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” You pull your phone out as Luke asks the bar tender to take three of the bottles to the rest of the band. “Hello?”

“Where are you? The doors are opening soon.” Carrie’s voice is almost drown out by the noise around her.

“I’m just finishing up, I’ll be out soon.”

“Was Luke as dreamy as-”

“I’ll be out as soon as I can. Bye.” You cut her off, worried Luke will hear her question and shove your phone away again. “Sorry, my friend’s in the queue. I really should get out there.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You go to put your almost full bottle of beer on the bar. “Take that with you. You can’t waste good beer.” You laugh and slide the bottle into the sleeve of Luke’s shirt to hide it from the security staff as the two of you walk over to the door. “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The two of you lock eyes for a few minutes before you remember Carrie. “I… I better go. Break a leg tonight.”

Before he can answer, you’re outside with the door slamming closed behind you. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as you walk around the building to find Carrie.

:: ::

“Where did that come from?” She asks, pointing to the shirt, as soon as you join her. You look around to make sure no one’s listening. You don’t want to be overheard.

“It’s Luke’s.” You whisper, laughing as her eyes widen in shock. Even more when you pull the bottle of beer out from the sleeve and take a long drink from it.

“When we get inside, you are telling me everything. But especially how you came out of an interview with the lead singer’s clothes on.”

Before you can answer, a cheer goes up near the front of the queue as the doors open and security begin letting the fans in.

Slowly, as tickets are checked, the queue moves forward and you’re finally at the front. The security guy recognises you and gives you a smile as he lets you and Carrie inside.

The first stop is the cloakroom so you can check in your bag and the goodie bag the guys gave you after the interview. Then Carrie drags you to the bar and starts pumping you for answers.

“How did the interview go? What took so long? Why did you come out wearing Luke’s shirt and carrying a beer?”

“Woah, slow down.” You order a couple of shots for the two of you from the bartender who served Luke earlier. He waves away your money, explaining you’ve been added to the bar tab the guys have running to your surprise and Carrie’s giggles. “The interview went really well. The guys responded so well to my questions and I took a selfie with them. Oh, shit. The photo’s on Alex’s phone.”

“Oh, really?” Carrie raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” You move away from the bar so no one can overhear you. When you’re certain you have some privacy, you fill her in on what happened after the interview ended.

“Holy shit, Y/N/ I think you’re in with a chance there.”

“Carrie, no. He’s a bonafide Rockstar, who lives like thousands of miles away. I’m a student from London. Don’t get carried away. He was just being friendly.”

“Oh, sure. Because all rockstars offer their shirts to fans and buy them a beer.” She looks at you, a weird look in her eye as she orders another round of drinks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Trevor the tour manager walking toward you.

“Hey, Y/N. I was asked to give you this.” He hands you a slip of paper before melting away through the crowd toward the stage.

“What is it?” Carrie askes as you unfold it. Written in the hardest writing you’ve ever had to decipher is,

Meet me backstage after the show? Luke.

You don’t know what to think, but Carrie crows like a damn rooster, attracting attention from other fans around you.

“Just being friendly, huh?” She hip bumps you, “I’m coming with you to the other shows, I need to see this unfold with my very own eyes.

Read Part Two here

#jatp #jatp fic #luke patterson #Luke x Reader #one shot #fanfiction #orginal character #bobby #reggie #ales #carrie #Mich writes fic

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archivingspn · 4 years ago

Text

2019: Twitter- Eric Kripke

therealKripke: “In honor of #SPN300, here's my original #SPN pitch from 2004. The pilot story is very different, but the tone always rang clear to me. Could never have imagined what this show became and the good it's done. Humbled and grateful beyond words to you all. #SPNFamily @cw_spn ‘[images of spn pilot’s 4pg script]’“ - 12:08 PM Feb 7, 2019

[source]

Supernatural

Pitch by Eric Kripke August 30, 2004

I. TONE AND WORLD

In one sentence, this is X-FILES meets ROUTE 66. Two brothers, cruising the dusty back roads in their trusty 64 Mustang, battling the things that go bump in the night. But much more than that, it's a show about an obsession of mine...

Throughout the U.S., (especially the MIDDLE, where I'm from), we have a folklore, as uniquely American as baseball, as rich and varied as any world mythology, and almost nobody knows it. For instance, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil, at an abandoned Mississippi crossroads, to be the world's greatest guitarist. But he died violently, poisoned at age 26, screaming about Hellhounds as he choked on his own blood. In the shadowy north woods of Minnesota, lives a creature named the Wendigo. Translated from Native American, it means "evil that devours.” It feeds on human flesh. And even today, dozens of witnesses say it's very real.

There are literally HUNDREDS of these stories and legends and urban legends. There are dark and dangerous things out there in the corners of our country. So here's a show that travels the diverse highways and byways of supernatural America. Black woods, ghost towns, those tourist trap mystery spots. Really, a show ABOUT our country-the bloody, beating heart of America.

Unlike X-FILES, this show isn't Vancouver rainy. It's brighter, more colorful, more VISCERAL, and more irreverent. The humor here is extremely important to me—but it has to arise from the characters and their attitudes. The characters can be funny, but the weekly stories have to be SCARY AS SHIT– I'm talking THE RING; how what you don't see is much more terrifying than what you do. I'm talking about making this series as scary as I possibly can, until you guys call and yell at me.

But I also want the tone to be GROUNDED. Where BUFFY, for example, felt HEIGHTENED, our show should feel like OUR WORLD, real-life America. With a darkness that bubbles and boils just beneath the surface. And I want to keep the weekly stories CREDIBLE- leave 'em with a question mark, the possibility of a rational explanation. Something early X-Files did very well.

Finally, I want this show to capture a certain SPIRIT. For one, that youthful electricity of dropping out and hitting the open road; the freedom of wide-open American spaces. But also, EVERY road trip story-from FEAR and LOATHING to Kerouac to The Odyssey, are inherently mythic quests, hero's journeys, real Joseph Campbell stuff. The way STAR WARS, LORD OF THE RINGS, and MATRIX are all the same story, with the same beats. So our series, too, is an epic hero's quest-- across the United States. Almost like a modern western, and our heroes are gunslingers. Or, as I like to call it - it's STAR WARS in TRUCK STOP AMERICA.

II. CHARACTERS AND FRANCHISE

Now, let's get into establishing our characters, and launching our franchise.

So if this is STAR WARS, meet LUKE SKYWALKER. SAM HARRISON, 21. Think Jake Gyllenhall, or Tobey Maguire. Smart, funny, handsome, maybe a little type-A. He just graduated Stanford with a 4.0, and now he's heading back down to L.A., where he lives with his Aunt and Uncle, he'll spend the summer clerking at a powerful law firm. And in the Fall... Harvard Law, thank you very much. Pedal to the metal, Sam is cruising the track to success. But, like all good Luke Skywalker heroes, Sam is vaguely restless. He tells his girlfriend, maybe he should drop everything this summer and blow off to Europe. But of course, he doesn't. He has too many responsibilities.

Sam's well adjusted, successful life, it's a real triumph, especially considering his background. Fifteen years ago, his dad JACK became increasingly dark and depressed. He drank. A lot. Until Mom and Dad were in a car crash. Dad was driving. He lived. Mom didn't. That triggered a schizophrenic breakdown in Dad. He swore that twisted, dark, horrific things caused that crash and took Mom away. And those same dark things were chasing after him. Dad was institutionalized. But he escaped. And disappeared.

Sam is ashamed of his tragic past. Hates his Dad, blames him for killing Mom, and NEVER, EVER talks about it.

Now, Sam's mythic CALL TO ADVENTURE, the events that will change his life forever, begin simply enough. When his big brother DEAN rolls into town. Meet DEAN HARRISON, 25, think Colin Farrel. If Sam's the good kid, Dean's the troublemaker. If Sam's Luke Skywalker, Dean's Han Solo. Charismatic and dangerous. Cocky confidence masking a troubled soul. Sam hated Dad, but Dean was older and remembered Dad in brighter days, and he worshipped the man. Sam buried his past and ignored it, but Dean was haunted by it, never quite got his shit together. Dean never went to college. Just sort of traveled around. In fact, Sam hasn't heard from Dean in almost 3 years, which Sam clearly resents.

And now... Dean makes Sam a proposition. Let me drive you down to L.A.- it's just one day, we'll get a chance to catch up a little. Reluctant, Sam agrees.

At first, they're enjoying the electric, carefree pleasures of a ROAD TRIP. Top down, radio blaring, singing their lungs out to AC/DC.

But then... at twilight... on an empty stretch of highway... Dean's driving. And he has to make a confession. (Though I'm sure we'll break this up into a few different scenes.) "Sam. There's something I need to tell you," Dean says. “I went looking for Dad. And I found him. Took just about every dime I had, but I found him. And I've been with him, for almost 2 years." Sam is shocked and betrayed: "what?! Why didn't you tell me?!" But Dean continues: "listen. I know this is hard to believe. But Dad WASN'T nuts.

Demons really DID kill Mom. Dark, awful things WERE following Dad. I know. Because I can see them. Because they're following me, too."

Obviously, Sam is BEYOND freaked and well aware that schizophrenia is hereditary. Dean goes on, getting worked up-“so Dad figured out how to kill these things, and he showed me how. Until they caught up to us in Baker. They got Dad. Before I got them." "What do you mean, you GOT them?” asks Sam. “I killed a demon. In human form," says Dean. “You killed somebody?!" "No, I killed a DEMON, it only LOOKED human.” (Which could be a scary, visceral teaser, by the way.) Anyway, DEAN continues: “Listen to me, Sam... it was Dad's wish, his DYING WISH, that I find you, that I teach you the way he taught me.” At this point, Sam goes into placating, survival mode. “Okay. Sure. Just calm down." But Sam's terrified-of his own brother.

Meanwhile, as this conversation's going on, Dean isn't going to L.A. He takes a detour-- for all intents and purposes, kidnapping Sam. They pull into a small, faded, all-American town in Central California. It's 1950's American optimism gone to seed. Basically, they pull right into the pilot's SELF ENCLOSED B-STORY. Whatever it is, the story should be simple, giving us room to focus on the brothers. It should be based in Folklore. And it should be personal—the job their father never completed.

Now, here's an example of exactly the kind of story I'm talking about. The real life ghost story of the "Weeping Woman," a sobbing wraith in a bloody white nightgown. She murdered her children by the river side, as revenge against her unfaithful husband. And today, it's said she lures unfaithful men to the river and drowns them. And sure enough, several MEN in this town have turned up dead by the river's edge. Anyway, something like this. And Dean, despite his smart ass jokes and references to the movie Poltergeist, seems to be taking this SERIOUSLY.

But Sam doesn't believe a WORD of it. First moment he's alone, he calls his Aunt and Uncle. “I'm with Dean, I think he's sick.” They tell him—"cops in Baker found your Dad's body. And a truck driver's body, too. Dean's the suspect. You have to get away! Where are you?!” But before Sam can answer-he pivots, right into Dean. Who grabs the phone, SMASHING it, furious: “Dammit, Sam, I'm not insane," Dean says, “Caspar the unfriendly fucker is really out there!"

Then, as Dean delves deeper and deeper into the ghost story, dragging a reluctant Sam along with him... INEXPLICABLE SUPERNATURAL phenomenon begin to occur, which SERIOUSLY RATTLES Sam. We'll have several good, scary set pieces. And soon, Sam doesn't know WHAT to think. And in the B-STORY'S climax, he'll even save Dean at some crucial point. (Though we'll be careful to leave things open ended, with just the possibility of a logical explanation.)

Afterwards, a beat in which Dean, vulnerable, says to his brother-"I've been thinking. And you're going home, Sam. You're smart, and you've got everything going for you. I don't care what Dad said, I can't let you live like this... Still," says Dean, "it was nice having you around. When you're with somebody... you just don't feel as crazy as

often." Sam's very conflicted, and he feels awful, but he can't just abandon his old life. So the brothers part ways. Sam hitchhikes up the road. Meanwhile, thanks to his Aunt and Uncle, the cops have been searching for Sam, and now they find him.

At the station, Sam tells the cops, Dean's in Colorado by now. But a patrol car has spotted Dean's parked Mustang at a nearby motel. The police grab SHOTGUNS, they're going to take Dean with force. And in the face of ONE PASSING COP, Sam sees-a glimpse. A shimmer. Something DEMONIC and INHUMAN flashes across the cop's face-and then it's gone, just as quick. Did Sam imagine it? Is he going insane, too? Or is Dean really in danger? Are dark, awful things really after him, like he said?

This is Sam's crossroads moment. And he makes a decision-he takes off. Steals a car. Beats the cops back to Dean. Warns him at the last minute. It's very TIGHT and very HECTIC, but Sam and Dean get away. Escaping by the skin of their teeth.

As we leave Sam... he doesn't know if he's losing his mind. He doesn't know if Dean's a hero or a homicidal schizophrenic. All he knows is-Dean's his brother, and he needs help. And for now, that's enough.

III. THE SERIES ITSELF

I think the overall GOAL here, is building an engine that gives us SELF ENCLOSED STORIES. I am gonna pitch some very simple mythology, but STAND ALONES are a format I really believe in, they're the shows I loved and grew up on. Like the best EARLY episodes of X-FILES.

So basically, our two heroes, avenging their parents' death, cruise the golden backroads of America-picture chrome diners and bucolic farms and dusty Route 66 towns. Places that are mythic and American, but also haunting, in a way. Places where horror can strike in broad daylight. Sam and Dean are kind of like classic gunslingers, or dragon slayers, finding-and KILLING—the monsters of American folklore.

So first question-how do they find the damn things? Dean tracks these creatures in a low-tech way. He scans obituaries for strange deaths. Dean also has a loose network of contacts - defrocked ministers and trailer park psychics, who impart information to our heroes whenever necessary.

Second question-how do they KILL the damn things? The answer—they have no fucking idea. They're outgunned and desperate and in completely over their heads. They don't have a WATCHER, like in BUFFY. They don't have an OBI WAN. They're on their own. Each week, they gotta figure out what the hell they're dealing with, and how the hell to kill it. And a lot of the time, they're wrong, and they have to improvise. Whether it's finding a ghost's remains - and burning them into dust; or loading a shotgun with silver buckshot, our guys will do whatever it takes to get the job done.

#2019-Feb #2019:February7 #*spn 1x01 #*SMT #Eric Kripke #Twitter #*scripts

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lovejustforaday · 4 years ago

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Album Review - Citrus by Asobi Seksu

Citrus - Asobi Seksu

Main Genres: Shoegaze, Dream Pop, Indie Pop

A decent sampling of: Twee Pop, Neo-Psychedelia, Noise Pop

In the conversation of greatest shoegaze and dream pop bands of all time, you usually hear a lot of the same names: My Bloody Valentine, Cocteau Twins, Ride, Slowdive, Beach House, or maybe even Mazzy Star. But one name that doesn’t get mentioned nearly as often as it should is Asobi Seksu.

Asobi Seksu were an American indie rock band consisting of songwriting duo Yuki Chikudate on vocals and keyboards, and James Hanna as lead guitarist, with a rotating rhythm section that changed from LP to LP. Critics never really gave them a fair chance, but to me they are the finest band to lead the wave of “nu-gaze” that took place over the mid-to-late 2000s.

While a lot of new shoegaze bands today are made up of younger millennials and zoomers who are very traditionalist in recreating the sounds of the original scene, the 2000s “nu-gaze” “““revival””” saw a lot of bands who wanted to expand the genre’s scope. “Nu-Gaze” bands usually fell into one of two cluster groups:

Cluster A was made up of bands incorporating prominent electronic elements to expand on the soundscapes of the original scene. Cluster B bands were making riff-heavy alternative rock that blended shoegaze guitar tones and walls of sound with clearer vocals and more distinct melodic structures, building more on the foundations of bands like Ride or Lush than the likes of MBV.

Asobi Seksu’s self-titled debut falls into the latter category, with a college-radio-esque record of mostly no-nonsense shoegaze and indie pop. It’s a pretty great record itself, but it wasn’t exactly career defining, and if it had ended there, I would say they were another above-average shoegaze band that I listen to mostly just cause they happen to make my favourite subgenre of music.

Something truly brilliant came after though. The band decided to embrace the more immersive dream pop + heavy shoegaze hybrid sound that defined most of the greatest bands of the original movement. But beyond that, the band retained their indie pop melodies and developed a vivacious, sanguine, high-energy formula that set them apart from a scene that had always mostly been defined by subtlety, introspection, and bittersweetness. The resulting album was Citrus.

True to its name, Citrus is a viscous smoothie concoction of saccharine and tangy flavours, expressed in the form of Yuki Chikudate’s frolicking vocal melodies and bright keyboard notes mixed with James Hanna’s roaring walls of sound. True to its cover art, the sonic colours of this record consist of vibrant shades of vermilion, tangerine, and daffodil. This LP is the sonic equivalent of the feeling you get from that first refreshing taste of ice cream on a hot summer’s day. A magnificently vivid experience all around.

A lot of shoegaze bands stick to very strict conventional rock instrumentation - drumkit, bass, and lots of guitars. Maybe an added string section on a song here or there for dramatic effect. But on Citrus, I hear not only the addition of Yuki’s keyboard leads, but also organs, xylophones, sleigh bells, and even toy pianos.

Citrus fades into view with “Everything Is On”, a 17 second ambient intro that sounds something like an arcade submerged in a swimming pool. Normally, I’m not particularly drawn to the trend of albums opening with these odd micro-tracks. This one instance really works however, because it contrasts ever so nicely with the bright, jangly opening guitars of “Strawberries“, the album’s proper introduction.

Speaking of, “Strawberries” is the sound of summer in full bloom, with a splendid pseudo-call-and-response riff that bounces like a yo-yo in between several intermissions of crushed shoegaze drone that feel not unlike dunking your head in a bucket of ice water. I love hearing what sounds like a rotary organ buried deep into the mix of those intermissions. The track ends brilliantly with a major tempo and rhythm shift into a rampant breakdown of manic rock instruments and festive celebration.

“Thursday” is the single greatest song of the 2000s “nu-gaze” revival, and indeed one of the very greatest indie rock songs of all time. A brief ghostly prelude foreshadows a blurry four minute burst of love and ecstasy, with one of the most pleasing choruses I’ve ever heard where Yuki offers the kindest words of concern “it seems you’ve lost your way, you’ve let it all fall apart”. This is the feeling of waking up at the end of a depressive episode and crying tears of joy as you gaze up at the sunny sky and realize that you're happy just to be alive. By the end of "Thursday”, I am completely smitten with the very notion of life itself.

The gentle strums of “Strings” open up into a sun-soaked daydream. Like on several other tracks here, Yuki uses English and Japanese interchangeably, allowing the sounds of her syllables to convey the necessary emotional imagery to non-bilingual listeners as she practically skips and hops her way through the song in an impressive display of vocal gymnastics. The wall of sound orchestrated at the end of this track is one of my all time favourites in the history of shoegaze and noise pop, like an enormous heatwave that hits you all at once.

The glorious midpoint and climax of Citrus is the seven and a half minute wonder “Red Sea”, a vision of a world that lies beyond the horizon while surfing the waves of a vast and foamy ocean. This track reaches monumental heights that I find particularly hard to put into words. What I will say is that this is second place to “Thursday” only by a small fraction, and it contains around the three minute mark one of the most captivatingly nostalgic melodies I’ve ever heard.

“Goodbye” is the sole occasion of a mostly straightforward indie pop song on this record, and its one of the sweetest breakup songs you’ll probably ever hear. “Lions and Tigers” is a distant meadow of dream pop that makes me feel like I’m a kid and I’m hugging my friend one last time before they move to another city. “Nefi + Girly” is like a follow-up to “Strawberries”, with another playful lead guitar riff and a dreamy keyboard lead that sounds like its splattering an empty canvas of indie rock with lively paint colours.

“Exotic Animal Parade” slows the record down for a brief melancholy ballad before exploding in a dream like it never even existed. “Mizu Asobi” emerges from the aftermath to finish off the record with one last beam of radiant joy before the festivities end with a bang.

As a footnote, I would like to add that, although they never count towards my final rating of a record, the bonus tracks/b-sides/etc. from the Citrus era are some of the best deep cuts ever released. Likewise, here’s some quick thoughts on those:

The band recorded two covers of two mid-20th century classics during this album cycle, including a twinkling, wistful haze rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “All Through The Day” as well as a giddy, fleeting noise pop cover of The Crystal’s “Then He Kissed Me”. Both are excellent examples of how to expand on their respective originals, reviving vintage pop classics with gorgeous soundscapes. There’s also the stand alone single “Stay Awake”, a sweeping end-of-chapter moment with some of the most excellent indie rock dynamics I’ve ever heard.

Like most people these days, Loveless was my first shoegaze record and my formal introduction to one of indie rock’s most elusive subgenres. It was good enough at the time to make me listen to a few more shoegaze bands, but Citrus was the record that made me fall in love with the genre medium. It was Citrus that allowed me to go back and fully appreciate Loveless as the masterpiece that it is, and later fall in love with other brilliant shoegaze records like Souvlaki and Ceres & Calypso In The Deep Time.

This album was also the unofficial soundtrack to most of my time as an undergrad. It played on my bus rides into the city and during walks around campus downtown on those last few days of exams before the summer. It helped me more than any other record to get through the worst year of mental health in my life. I am endlessly fond of this beautiful work of art, and I am truly grateful for how Asobi Seksu managed to expand my horizons. This will forever be one of my favourite records. Happy 15th anniversary Citrus.

10/10

highlights: “Thursday”, “Red Sea”, “Strawberries”, “Lions and Tigers”, “Strings”, “Goodbye”, “Nefi + Girly”, “Mizu Asobi”, “New Years”, “Everything Is On”, “Exotic Animal Parade”

#Asobi Seksu #Citrus #Shoegaze #Dream Pop #Indie Pop #Indie Rock #best music #best albums #favourite albums #favourite music #2006 #Yuki Chikudate #James Hanna #album review #music review #anniversary #summer

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gothgovernment · 4 years ago

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In Bed With Geo (Louis Tomlinson One Shot)

December 2015

"Hi friends and welcome back to in bed with Geo. As you can see, today I'm in bed by myself. This video has been a long time coming, which makes filming it right now absolutely terrifying..." I trail off with a nervous laugh. "Because I was so nervous, I spent three hours getting ready just to avoid this for as long as possible." I smile into the camera before taking a moment to collect my thoughts.

"As I'm sure you've all heard, One Direction announced their hiatus today. I've known this was coming for a few weeks now and it breaks my heart to see this all come to an end. These guys are the reason I have a career. These guys are some of my best friends. These guys are the reason I'm still here. And I am so proud of them for doing what's right and taking a break now before they all burn out..." I start to tear up. Fuck this video is going to be a rough one to edit.

"So, this is my story of how One Direction, and one member in particular, impacted my life in the best way possible."

September 2011

"Welcome Mr Tanaka," the petite lady at the door said as she let my father and I into the party. It was packed with important looking people wearing their nicest suits and dresses. One Direction signs littered the walls as everyone celebrated the release of the boy bands first single 'What Makes You Beautiful'. My dad is a musician with Syco. He helped write and record the guitar for One Directions upcoming debut album. I've always admired his work and I am so proud of him for helping aspiring musicians to realize their dreams.

Dad turned to me and smiled while throwing his tattooed arm around me, "you look so beautiful tonight, honey." He always knew how to ease my nerves. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as I responded with a soft thanks. "I've got to go congratulate the boys, want to come meet them?"

"Of course! I've only been asking you to introduce me since your first session with them," I giggled as Dad stuck his tongue out at me. I quickly grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray a waitress was carrying before following dad in the direction of 5 young lads. As we approached them, beautiful blue eyes locked with mine. I smiled politely at the handsome boy as Dad and I came to a stop in front of the group. He returned the smile and stuck his hand out for me to shake.

"Ahh so you're Geo. Izuki here has not shut up about you! I'm Louis," he said cheekily, giving my dad a playful nudge on the shoulder after our hands parted.

"Oh really? What has he said about me? All good things I assume," I bite back a smile as I see Dad rolling his eyes at us. Dad has told me a lot about the boys, but especially Louis. He seems to think we are destined to be friends.

"Alright, give it a rest," my Dad huffed with a smirk, "Boys!" My dad called to grab the attention of the remaining four band members. "This is my daughter Geo. Geo, this is Zayn, Harry, Liam and Niall." They all took turns shaking my hand with Harry even giving me a hug. "Right well, I'm leaving Geo with you while I go and talk business." Dad quickly turned and walked away, leaving me with these strangers. I watched Dad walk away before slowly turning back to the boys, immediately locking eyes with Louis again.

I spent the next 3 hours being dragged around the party by Louis, being introduced to countless important people. Something about this boys carefree and almost childish nature made me feel instantly attached to him. He is just so unapologetically himself all the time, it's almost contagious.

We had just finished raiding the food table when Louis asked me, "so, Geo... what are your plans for the future? Izuki has mentioned you're an incredible drummer." I should have known my Dad would talk about my drumming. It is, after all, his greatest achievement in me. Instilling me with a passion for music is the reason we are so close to each other. After my mother suddenly passed away, connecting through music has gotten us through our grief.

"Well right now my dream is to work as a drum tech but I also have an idea for a YouTube channel where I interview musicians, in my bed, pyjamas on, and ask them real questions. I want to talk to people about how their lives have influenced their music. How being in the industry impacts them. I want to know about their families, their hopes and dreams. I want to talk to artists like real people. Get to know why they are in this industry and if it's worth it. If the pros outweigh the cons... But that's just a fantasy. I would have no idea where to even start. I mean, the only musicians I really know are my dad and now you." I fiddle with the ring on my middle finger, realizing I just gave a much longer than necessary answer. Louis' silence causes me to look away from my ring and toward him. He is looking at me, mouth agape. His face suddenly splits into a smile which instantly helps to ease my slowly growing anxiety.

"You're a very interesting girl, Geo. Very interesting indeed..." He trails off as he quickly pulls out his phone, texting someone rapidly.

It's now close to midnight and Dad has decided to call it a night. As I bid farewell to the boys in the form of hugs, I reach Louis last.

"So..." I made eye contact with the Doncaster boy. "is there any chance I could grab your number? Ya know, in case you ever feel like making that dream a reality?" The cheeky glint in his eye makes me nervous.

"What? You want to come on my imaginary show?" Surely he was just being polite. No way would he actually want to waste his time on an interview that would maybe get 6 views.

"I text the lads about it earlier and we're all on board. It sounds like a brilliant idea. I fully believe in you, love." Okay wow, this feels like a dream. THE X Factor boy band One Direction want to be interviewed by me?

"If you're trying to make me swoon, you've achieved your goal," I giggle, pulling my phone out of my purse and handing it to him. When he returns my phone I see that he had text himself 'sup u sexy fuck'. I burst out laughing before giving him a long hug, whispering a goodbye in his ear.

December 2015

"I met One Direction in 2011 at the single launch for 'What Makes You Beautiful'. My dad was the guitarist for all of the recording and writing of Up All Night. All the boys instantly accepted me into their lives. Especially my now best friend Louis Tomlinson. After talking to Lou about wanting to start this channel, he immediately encouraged me and we set up the first ever 'In Bed With... One Direction'. That video gained 400,000 views within six months and affectively created my career. My whole life as I know it is owed to Lou. If it wasn't for his complete and utter faith in me, I don't think I would be here today." I start to cry, reminiscing on beautiful memories. I take a sip of my tea and think for a moment. I really wish L was here right now, but I know we would both be blubbering messes. I need to do this alone. For once, I need to do something without relying on him.

"Since my first interview with One Direction my channel has blown up. It has afforded me this house, my friends, the opportunity to meet some of my biggest idols and most importantly it has moulded me into the strong and powerful woman I am today. So I want to take this opportunity to thank you boys. Louis, Harry, Zayn, Niall and Liam. I love each of you more than I can put into words."

My phone buzzes beside me and I pick it up. 'Big Louser' sent me a text.

baby g, you okay? youve

not text me in a week :(

I sighed as I put the phone back down. I should have known he'd pick up on me semi-ghosting him. I have been so nervous around him ever since he and Eleanor split up about 9 months ago. It's like, I finally have my chance to tell him how I feel but I am so scared of losing the best part of my life. That's why, when he called me about a month ago to say the band had finally come to the conclusion of going on an extended break, I knew I had to make this video. So that the world can know and remember how important Louis and the rest of the lads are. And so that Lou can finally know how I feel. I pick my phone back up, knowing I should reply.

I'm sorry L. I promise

I'll make it up to you.

I'm filming a new video

right now that will be up

later tonight. I'll send

you the link when it's up!

Love you x

I turn my phone onto do not disturb and return my focus to the camera. "I want to talk a little bit about each of the boys from a friends perspective. Firstly, I would like to talk about Zayn. Z, you are one of the gentlest, kindest people I have ever met. You have dealt with so much during and after your time with the band. The constant racist and Islamophobic tweets and comments really wore you down a lot more than you'd let on. But Z, you would always rise above them, knowing that your culture made you into the incredible person you are today." I pause, hesitant about what I am going to say next. I would hate to overstep any boundaries here.

Choosing my words carefully, I continue. "Leaving the band must have been the toughest decision anyone could make. I remember you texting me about two months after you left to ask if I thought you'd made the right choice leaving behind your friends, your brothers. Your concern wasn't about if this would affect your future career, it was if it affected your friends. That's the epitome of the Zayn I love." I knew I would edit in a few videos I have of Z and I over the years throughout this mini speech.

I have a video of Zayn and I napping together on the couch in the green room before their show in Sydney in February of this year. He'd been really anxious about the first show of the tour and the nerves wore him out. We were originally sat together, talking about how huge this tour was going to be when he drifted off to sleep with me in his arms. I soon followed after and we napped for two hours before he was woken up to get his hair done. Who would have known that just a few weeks later he would crumble under the pressure and quit. I wish I noticed the warning signs.

"Liam 'good game' Payne, where do I begin? You are my brother, my teammate, my friend. You have always been my favourite person to play Fifa with. I remember a week after my Dad died, I heard the doorbell ring and when I opened it, you were standing there with a dozen of my favourite red velvet cupcakes and your PS4 controller. We played together in silence for hours. Once I was finally ready to talk, you stayed awake with me until 6am, sharing stories about my Dad, our lives and talking about our futures. I will always cherish you, no matter how frustrating you can be." Again, I know exactly what videos to edit in of Liam and I. One of them is him, wearing a crop top and skirt voguing after I did a full glam makeup look on him. He's going to hate me for posting it.

"Haz. My love. My guiding star. I would be a complete disaster without you. Although you are the worlds worst replier and you never answer when I call, you always seem to text me or show up at my house right when I feel like I'm falling apart. It's like the universe has linked you to me. You're my crisis line, and I am yours. I cannot even begin to count all the nights we have lied on the couch together just crying. Happy crying, sad crying, angry crying... It would almost have to be as many nights that we have spent laughing together. H, you were destined to be a rockstar. I can't think of any other job you could be more suited to. I know this is just the beginning for you, and I honestly can't wait to see you grow." I still cannot believe that my baby H is only 21 yet has achieved more than most people do in their entire lifetime. "I love you almost as much as I love apple pie." I am full on crying now. That last sentence really broke me. He and I have an inside joke that nothing in this world is better than a homemade apple pie. We would often text each other about incredible/rare/unique moments and rate them on an apple pie scale.

"Horan. I don't really have much I can say here because 90% of our conversations are inside jokes but I will say this; you have changed my life in such a unique way. I know we've had our differences, but I wouldn't change any of it. You're the one person who can make me laugh no matter what mood I'm in. You are such a light to this world. Without you in this band, I think the boys would've collapsed under the pressure a long time ago. Without you, this industry would've swallowed up every bit of joy they have. You have kept all of us sane with your stupid, loud laughter and irritatingly optimistic attitude. Please never, ever change for anyone you precious wanker." I know that I might seem a bit harsh towards Niall, but this is how we speak to each other. We've always been way too honest and, at times, cynical with only each other. He truly is one of a kind. Niall and I haven't shared as many moments together as I have with the other boys, but the moments we've had are definitely special.

"And last but certainly not least, Louis 'dumb fuck' Tomlinson. I don't even know if I can put into words how you have changed my life. You are my favourite person in this entire universe. Without you, there's a good chance I wouldn't be alive today. You are the reason I have so much self-worth, confidence and happiness within myself. You have single-handedly gotten me through some of my deepest depressions. I can't imagine my life without you. I've been trying to think about what story best represents how you're truly an incredible friend. I decided that although everything you do is a testament to how amazing you are, I would tell the one that made me cry the most.

"The year was 2013, I was 20 years old and I experienced my first heartbreak. My girlfriend of 2 years cheated on me with multiple people. I called you up, crying so hard I couldn't form a sentence. You sat patiently on the phone with me for an hour, never knowing what was wrong, just waiting for me to calm down. When I finally just hung up because I couldn't string two words together you text me that you love me. Six hours later and you walked into my bedroom, pulled me into your arms and laid with me for two days. You flew home early from your press tour without any idea of what was wrong with me. You just knew I was upset and you pushed everything aside to be there for me. When I finally told you what had happened, you hugged me tighter, looked me in the eyes and said, "you are the most perfect person in the world and you deserve to be with someone who recognises that." I think it was then that I realised that I'm completely and utterly in love with you. But you were with Eleanor, whom I adore still to this day. I would never have wanted to ruin what you two had. Because all I've ever wanted since I met you is for you to be happy. And El always made you happy." A sob escapes my mouth as I think of how broken hearted I have felt over the last few years, knowing that my true love would never be mine.

I decide to talk some time to cool down, so I walk to my kitchen to make another cup of tea. While I wait for the jug to boil, I rub my finger over my tiny teacup tattoo. Lou and I got matching tattoos not long after the boys finished recording 'Little Things'. He showed me the song and I fell in love with his verse, so we went out that afternoon and got our tattoos together, his shout. I walk back into the bedroom, press record on the camera again and get comfortable.

"When you called me up crying because you and Eleanor split up, I came straight over and returned the favour. I lived at your house for a week, doing anything I could to make you happy again. And then you went back on tour, and I returned home, and I've never felt so alone. After that week of us spending every second of every day together I realised that you're my soulmate. There's no one I want to be around more than you. And I know you're going to be so mad that I'm posting this video instead of texting you back but I want the whole world to know that you are perfect."

I finished the video with a few happier stories about my time with the boys, then wrapped it up. This was going to be an emotional afternoon.

Pressing public on that video was strange. I almost felt numb after all the emotions I had poured out while filming and editing it. I immediately text the link to all 5 boys and went to have a shower. The video was about 20 minutes long so I expected their responses would be a little while away. What I didn't expect was to walk out of the shower and into my bedroom to see Louis sitting on the end of my bed, tears streaming down his face.

We made eye contact once he realized I had entered the room. Frozen in my spot, Louis took the initiative of standing up and walking towards me. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice broke as he spoke, tears threatening to spill. I tried to form words but I was too scared of the impending rejection. "Geo. We're best friends. Why didn't you talk to me? I thought that... I..." His words trailed off as the tears streamed down his face. He looked down at his feet, he always gets embarrassed when he cries. I gently grab his right hand, causing him to make eye contact again.

"I am so, so, so sorry Lou. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I guess I thought saying it indirectly would make this easier but it's so much harder than I ever could have imagined." I look away from his bloodshot, blue eyes and focus on my hand in his. "I'm in love with you. I think I always have been... And I'm sorry that this will make our friendship weird now. I don't expect you to ever want to talk to me again to be honest."

"How fucking dare you think that. If you think I could live without you, you're insane." Louis swiftly pulled me towards him with his free hand, kissing me with all the love he could possibly give.

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jyndor · 4 years ago

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You know, the conversation about sea shanties is just another chapter in what seems like the endless story of people of color, in particular black and indigenous people, telling us to learn the history of the things we like and white people hearing that it means we have to lock those things away forever and burn our books and stamp on our records. As if that isn’t what white people have done to black and indigenous stories, to black and indigenous cultures, to black and indigenous arts, wealth, etc for centuries. As if that is what the people of color who are educating us on the things we like are actually advocating for. News flash: part of the history of oppressors is fearing the tables turning, when that is never been the goal of civil rights and social justice movements. Ever.

So fun fact: I grew up loving good ol’ classic rock n’ roll. My first concert was the Allman Brothers Band, which is one of the most interesting rock bands of all time imo. I really love a good southern twangy jam, the way the guitars sing, the bluesy sunny vibe. Ramblin’ Man? Jessica? Simple Man? Carry On Wayward Son? Hotel California? Perfect fucking driving music if you ask me.

If you know anything about southern rock, you know the iconography - the Confederate Flag is everywhere, in the crowds, for many bands it’s in the album covers and the photoshoots, etc. You know what you get when you wade in the Southern rock water*.

The lyrics from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama have been parsed and interpreted in all kinds of ways -

In Birmingham they love the governor (boo-boo-boo) Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you?

And yeah, you could read this as ironic or satirical. In fact, that’s what guitarist and co-writer Gary Rossington says according to NPR -

"A lot of people believed in segregation and all that. We didn't. We put the 'boo, boo, boo' there saying, 'We don't like Wallace,' " Rossington said. But he also added that there were "a lot of different interpretations. I'm sure if you asked the other guys who are not with us anymore and are up in rock and roll heaven, they have their story of how it came about."

And yeah, maybe they didn’t like George Wallace or Nixon. Sure. Whatever. I could buy it, actually. Because this song actually is indicative of how many privileged people feel when they perceive being called out, even if the criticism isn’t about them. Call it wjhat you want - white fragility, white liberal sensitivity, etc. This song was written in response to Neil Young’s Southern Man, which goes:

Southern man, better keep your head Don't forget what your good book said Southern change gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast

Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man, when will you pay them back? I heard screamin' and bullwhips cracking How long? How long? How?

Yeah, writer Ronnie Van Zant was so bothered by Neil Young talking about l*nchings, abject sl*very and reparations in Southern Man, a song that isn’t even about them or Alabama in particular, that he wrote Sweet Home Alabama.

Well I heard Mister Young sing about her Well I heard ol' Neil put her down Well I hope Neil Young will remember A southern man don't need him around anyhow

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm comin' home to you

So ironically, even though Neil Young was just talking to racists in the US South, someone who ostensibly didn’t agree with segregation took that song as a personal attack because he liked “southern culture” and his home state of Alabama, despite its flaws.

But Young never says that the South is irredeemable. He just says white southerners need to come to terms with their history (and yes make reparations). In fact, according to NPR he has some issues with his lyrics. “I didn't like my words when I wrote them. They are accusatory and condescending.” I don’t agree. It needs to be said.

So Van Zant and the Skynyrd guys heard a criticism of white Southern racism and at BEST thought, “well that’s an unfair portrayal of me, a southern white man.” Van Zant can’t answer this question for himself since he died in a plane crash with two other band members and their manager in 1977.

In my opinion, knowing how white people can be when confronted with the reality of racism, this feels a lot like every other time a well-meaning white person (myself included) has said, “but not all white people.”

Not all Southern whites supported segregation at the time, but most did - and all white people benefit from the legacy of sl*very. I might not be a descendant of people who enslaved others, my ancestors might have come here as refugees, but after they fled Ireland for New York, they threw black people under the bus for whiteness.

Rock is a genre that owes everything to Black musicians - to blues and spirituals and gospel and yes, Black work songs. Black history is in the DNA of rock music. That I grew up thinking it was white music is mortifying to be honest.

But I don’t really like Sweet Home Alabama and I never have. It’s kind of just meh to me. Not a big loss.

And that takes me to the Allman Brothers Band. As far as I am aware, ABB (through many, many iterations - this is another band plagued by tragedy) has never been cool with racism. According to Vulture:

The Allmans respected not just black art but black players; as kids, Gregg and Duane got lessons from an older black guitarist their mother once refused to allow into her home, and later, they caught hell having Jaimoe and bassist Lamar Williams in their ranks in their adopted home state of Georgia. “If a musician could play, we didn’t look at his skin color,” Gregg wrote in his 2012 memoir My Cross to Bear.

“Nobody around here had seen guys who looked like them,” soul food legend and friend of the band Mama Louise Hudson said in Alan Paul’s 2014 oral history One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. “A lot of the white folk around here did not approve of them long-haired boys, or of them always having a black guy with them.” Southern rock occupied a peculiar axis of Mason-Dixon pride and reverence to blues and soul veterans who were hampered and harangued by the politics of the South. Gregg always pushed back. He didn’t placate audiences’ blind patriotism and racism the way Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. have. Last year, he spoke out against North Carolina’s transphobic “bathroom bill,” and when asked about the confederate flag in 2015, he told Radio.com, “If people are gonna look at that flag and think of it as representing slavery, then I say burn every one of them.”

And that is great.

But.

Whipping Post. Written by white ally Gregg Allman, bluesy and wild and passionate on a level that is hard to imagine, this is... one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. And it also makes me wonder if it’s maybe belittling a part of slavery.

My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool But I had to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you I drown myself in sorrow as I look at what you've done But nothing seemed to change, the bad times stayed the same, And I can't run Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel Like I been tied to the whippin' post Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.

Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve researched it, I’ve used google. There isn’t a lot the internet has to say about this song that isn’t “this song fucking slaps man!!!” Maybe part of it is the larger context - Allman was staunchly against racism and was taught by a Black guitarist and played with Black musicians and loved Black music. A white man comparing an emotionally abusive relationship with being whipped might feel different without that context.

(Whipping posts being used for people besides enslaved Black people does not mean Allman wasn’t referencing what Black American slaves experienced, so don’t even go there. I know. The Romans also had slaves. It’s different.)

But if some people of color on the internet critique this song someday, the appropriate response is not to act as if “hey here is where this comes from, please be mindful about historical context and get educated” means “never listen to that devil song again,” folks.

It’s about learning our histories so we can do better in the future. Not canceling entire genres of music. Some things are best left in the past but mostly it’s just about understanding what the things we love mean. And these things are more than their aesthetics.

*I also really, really love African American work songs. Always have.

#cait uses her musical knowledge for once #work songs #sea shanties #this discourse is like one side saying read a book or wikipedia and the other side thinking they are being burned at the stake #history #southern rock #music #racism #colonialism #slavery tw #lynching tw #neil young was right he shouldn't have back tracked #but he's also canadian so like fix your glass house honey

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #458

“i was unprepared for fame, then everybody knew my name”

What does your doormat say? I... actually am not sure. I don't pay any attention. What do you order from most sit down restaurants? Chicken tenders are my go-to safe option, ha ha. Or shrimp. Who was the last person you talked about love/relationships with? Sara. I wanted her advice. Where was the last place you thought about having sex, other than your bed? This was way too long ago, dude. Do you remember the last time you went against someone’s advice? Very recently. :x What day would you consider the best day of your life? Why? Idk, really. Would you say you’re too experienced or too unexperienced for your age? I am embarrassingly unexperienced. What is your favorite neon color? Ever buy nail polish that color? Hot pink. I don't care for nail polish. Has anyone ever mistaken you to be a member of the opposite sex? No. What is the greatest source of happiness in your life? Uhhhh... What was the last charity/cause you donated to? Children With Hair Loss, when I cut a shitload of my hair off for the style I have now. Getting that certificate that my hair was used is to this day one of the warmest feelings I've ever experienced. Who was the last person you got a handwritten letter from? Sara. What is something you know very little about? Economics. Have any of your worst fears ever come true? Yes. I lost Jason. Is anyone in your family divorced? My parents, three of my siblings (all have since gotten remarried and are very happy<3), and I'm sure more distant relatives, too. Does your family go ‘all out’ during the holidays? No. How often in a year do you go to the mall to get new clothes? Pretty much never. Who was the last person to call you beautiful? What was your reaction? Someone on Facebook when I updated my profile pic, probably. I was very flattered, of course. As someone with a SHIT self-image, it means a lot to me. Do you ever get paranoid about who your significant other hangs out with? I'm single, but hypothetically, nope. Did you ever call any teachers by their first name? Who? Some, but only because they preferred it. I don't remember all of them, other than it was common in college. Do you blow-dry, towel-dry or air-dry your hair? Towel-dry and best I can first, then let it air-dry. Have you ever wanted to be in a band? ... One of the reasons I chose to go to actual school instead of homeschooling when I started HS was because I liked the thought of making actual friends and maybe being a guitarist if any wanted to start bands lmao. What is your favorite flavor of gum? Watermelon, probs. Are you a good leader? lol no Would you ever go bear hunting? I'm strictly opposed to hunting for sport, but even if I wasn't, I would NOT be going after bears. Have you ever picked flowers out of someone else’s garden without asking? Wow, no. Have you ever won money by entering a contest/raffle? No. Who is your favorite philosopher? I don't have one. What restaurant would you choose to go to for breakfast? I'm a v basic bitch and love me some Waffle House lmfao. How much money do you think you cost your parents? I. Don't. Want. To. Know. With so much medical stuff... holy shit. Do you eat any meat other than turkey on Thanksgiving? I eat spiral ham, because I don't like turkey in that form. Does your cat give you kitty kisses? Yes. :') Have you ever lost anyone close to cancer? Close, no. My mom was a close call, though... Her cancer was very, very close to being stage 4. Have you ever been to a waterpark? Yeah, as a kiddo. Describe the person you like/love in one word: Hilarious. Do you enjoy creative writing? Hell yeah man. If so, what things do you like writing about the most? Meerkats in a fantasy setting. Do you own any windchimes? Yes. Mom has one, I believe. Have you ever been known for something extremely negative? No. Would you say you’ve made a lot of people proud? Hell no. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone for over a year? Twice. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? I think I've made that abundantly obvious in the past few surveys lmao. Does your birth name mean anything in another language or sense? It just means "of Britain." I wish my name had better meaning, lol. What is your favorite desert? THE KALAHARI because MEERKATS!!!!!!!!!!! :') Have you ever been called a good kisser? Well not directly, but no one's ever complained? Have you ever stepped on a bee? No. Who is your newest friend? Hmmm... I haven't made a new friend in a very long time. Tell me something about yourself that you don’t normally tell people. I'm an RPer. The last song you heard, what does it make you think of? That I wish I was NEARLY as hot as her lmao. What do you like about your birthday? We go out to eat wherever I want, yum. The person you’re thinking about - what are you thinking about them? That he needs to mESSAGE ME BACK Are you currently sick at all? No. Has anyone ever asked for your autograph? Er, no. What’s one subject that makes you feel uncomfortable? Sex. Who did you last send a friend request to? Idk. What candy makes your face pucker? None that I've tried. I handle sour treats very well. Do you believe that the number 13 is unlucky? No. Do you know any marines? Jason's dad was one. What’s your favorite Halloween movie? Hocus Pocus. :') Do you know anyone who does a lot of pills? I guess me, but they're prescription pills, and I don't abuse them. Mom has a lot, too. Who’s your favorite rapper? And your favorite song by this rapper? Eminem. Either "Love the Way You Lie" or "Space Bound." Has anyone ever made a promise to you that they’d change? Who? No. Have you ever had the cops called on you? For what? Nope. What race do you see the most in your neighborhood? African American. Have you ever walked in on someone accidentally while they were nude? No, I don't think so. Have you ever wanted to get your monroe pierced? Nah, it'd look weird on me. Do you own anything that involves Betty Boop? Nope. Can you remember the last song you listened to? Yeah; I'm listening to Lauren Babic and Halocene's cover of Linkin Park's "Bleed It Out" right now. What is your favourite flavour of Skittles? The sour ones!! Red was always my favorite. Who taught you how to ride a bike? My dad. Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst? Girt. Jason is a very close second, but Girt... he saw me at rock fucking bottom. He just showed up at the hospital unannounced after my suicide attempt (he knew because yay for writing a stupid fucking suicide note on Facebook) to help comfort me. He saw me dead to the fucking world and just done with everything. When’s the last time you were on the phone after 2 AM? Wow... probably not since a few days before the aforementioned suicide attempt and I called Jason's landline, desperate to talk to him. His mom picked up and talked to me for like two whole fucking hours. I'm tearing up pretty bad just remembering it, seeing as she's dead now... She cared for me so much. I miss her so, so much. Enough of this question, I'm about to start sobbing. :x What would you do if your best friend got an abortion? Honestly? Be relieved. I really don't think her body could handle pregnancy. What would you do if your father left your mother? That happened, and I hated him for years. What would you do if your bf/gf’s face became mutilated in an accident? Love them all the same. I don't care about appearances. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen in your life? *shrug* Have you ever dated two different people with the same name? No. That would be so weird. What are you deathly afraid of? Pregnancy. Internal parasites. Which unborn babies technically are. Do you know anyone who’s addicted to drugs and, if so, are you friends with them? I know many potheads, and one I'm pretty close with. Have you ever owned a golf cart before and, if so, what color was it? No. Do you have a sibling who’s a complete deadbeat and, if so, which sibling is it? Definitely not. All my siblings are hard workers that have dreams and aspirations they're either working towards or have achieved. Do you own the new Guitar Hero and, if so, what’s your favorite song on it? I have no clue what the newest one is. My favorite song to play in any of the games though is The Eagles' "Hotel California." It just feels good to play, and the ending solo fuckin' slams. Have you ever done anything dangerous enough to have risked your life? An overdose on cold medicine. What was the most length you’ve ever cut off your hair and why did you cut it? 8+ inches because I no longer wanted long hair. Have you ever overcome a disease that was life-threatening and, if so, which one? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''ordinary man'' by ozzy osbourne

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tiesandtea · 4 years ago

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SUEDE: Style & Substances

Alternative Press, May 1997 (no. 106). Mag cover. Written by Dave Thompson. Archived here.

Suede Give Us A Glimmer...

Bleeding through the debate about vocalist Brett Anderson's sexuality and rumored drug intake, the overall glamour with which society equates a fucked-up lifestyle drapes Suede like a second skin. Dave Thompson travels to London to discover why Suede are one of the few bands that matter in an age of stars who are "just like you."

Brett Anderson leans against an amplifier, hands in pocket, shoulders hunched. To his left, the rest of Suede are playing Fleetwood Mac's "Albatross"; to his right, a television crew is fiddling with camera angles. He wants a cigarette, but he never smokes this close to showtime. Instead, he swings a keychain and glowers into the monitors. It's rehearsal time in Studio Four, a theater-sized room as the BBC, and the only person who's enjoying himself is an increasingly rotund-looking Jools Holland. He's the host of this evening's show, and he's away in another room entirely.

Later...With Jools Holland is a British TV institution. Less than three years old, it has nevertheless sewn up a comfortable niche somewhere between the chart-conscious grooviness of Top of the Pops and the more indulgent pastures of MTV Unplugged. It's a showcase for bands to run through a handful of new songs, play a favorite or two and give a taste of their live prowess without boring the unconverted senseless. Boring themselves senseless, of course, is another matter entirely, and as Suede are counted into the third rehearsal of their opening song "Trash," you can almost sense the desperation in Anderson's face. Then the action starts, and he's utterly transformed. Though he's barely moving and scarcely singing, he's conveying an intensity that explodes from his very presence, drawing the most disinterested eyes in his direction. Even the soundmen look up from their meters, and the camera crew compete for his undying attention. If Anderson weren't a rock star, he'd make a great lunatic. But because he is a rock star...well, he's probably a lunatic anyway. You would be, too, in his shoes. If the 1990s have given us anything, it's the demystification of the rock star. From the boy-next-door Weezers to the angst-ridden whiners, the message is the same: I'm no different from you; I'm no better than you; and, of course, I'm just as screwed up as you. Enter, or more properly, re-enter Suede, with their third album, Coming Up (Columbia). And all that hard work reducing idols to idiots counts for nothing. Because Suede couldn't be "just like you" even if they wanted to. Bleeding through the "is he?/isn't he?" debate about vocalist Brett Anderson's sexuality and the "does he?/doesn't he?" of his rumored drug intake, the overall glamour with which society equates a fucked-up lifestyle drapes Suede like a second skin. The scent of teen spirit clings to them, the doomed romanticism of consumptive youth which peaked on their last album, 1994's Dog Man Star, and peeks through the stunning Coming Up. Suede deal in emotional extremes, from the A Clockwork Orange apocalypse of their "We Are The Pigs" video in which armed hooligans howl through a burning industrial landscape while Suede gaze down from giant video screens, to the incandescent loneliness of the current "Saturday Night" video, in which a London subway station is transformed into a rave to which the band have not been invited. The band's junkie chic is as apparent in the stoned immaculate presentation of their latest wasted-youth album-cover artwork, as it is in the gorgeously gaunt frame which Anderson angles for the television cameras. Add a live show that oozes subversive glamour; couple that with the fearless decadence of Anderson's greatest lyrics, and whether it's all an act or not, Suede are a walking advertisement for the joyful sins of sleaze. Backstage in the bowels of the BBC, Anderson sighs. He's heard all this before. "Yeah, you can look at it like that, but that's other people's interpretation of it, and that's their problem. You can't look at yourself through other people's eyes, then worry about what you say through their ears; you've got to have some self-belief in what you are." Which is, right now, the biggest thing on 10 legs. Across Europe and the Far East, Coming Up charted at No.1 and has already outsold both its predecessors. Three singles have kept the pot boiling ever since, and the current Suede line-up (their fifth on record since their 1990 "Be My God" 7-inch single debut) is their strongest yet. Like Brian Eno's departure from Roxy Music, founding guitarist Bernard Butler's exit did not so much rid the band of one creative spark, as open the door for the flowering of another. Anderson's unequivocal grasping of the reins, only partly aided by the recruitment of guitarist Richard Oakes, may have diluted Suede's overall sound, but it has sharpened their vision to a razor's edge. The further addition of keyboardist Neil Codling fills the gaps that teen maestro Oakes couldn't plug; the Simon Gilbert/Mat Osman rhythm section is a thunderous roar that never lets up; and Coming Up is unmistakably the sound of the same great band that recorded Dog Man Star. The difference is, Anderson affirms, they've stopped pissing around. "After Dog Man Star, everyone thought we were going to do an operetta or something like that. But you get things out of your system. We wanted to refocus the band, the fact that we were virtually starting again; we wanted to readjust the basics." And did it work? "You can't completely divorce yourself from your past. I haven't got the memory of a goldfish; I was aware that I'd made two albums before it. But it felt fresh, and it felt as though we were making the record away from a lot of the crap you have to deal with, away from the spotlight, which was great. Plus...", and here he gestures to new arrivals Codling and Oakes, "... there's less of an obsession with self-importance, which was definitely a change in the band. The last two albums were quite precious and self-important, and that can be good and that can be bad." Ah, preciousness. Plough through five years of Suede press and the buzzwords leap out: "superficial", "fake", "David Bowie" - three hollow sides to the same soulless coin. But most of the people who call Suede "pretentious" are the same ones who fancy the Spice Girls. And the closest those cynics get to class is the corridor outside the school room. "It does bother us a bit," says Anderson. "People always want to polarize bands into camps, and what I always find objectionable, even with journalists who are pro-Suede, is, they always want to write about us as an alternative to this good, honest musicianship going on elsewhere, which kind of implies that there isn't any good, honest musicianship going on within Suede." Anderson resents that implication, just as he resents the accusations of vanity that are flung at him with equal frequency - the two go hand in hand, after all. "People ask, 'Are you vain?' Hang on, let me turn the question around. If you were going to appear on television in front of five million people, you'd probably look in a mirror to see what you look like. You'll brush your hair and put a bit of make-up on because you don't want to look like a pig. Does that mean you're vain? I don't think it does. "Ninety-nine percent of my career thought is dedicated to thinking about music; a very tiny percentage is spent on image. I may go shopping once a month; but while I don't think we're the honest blokes down the pub, we're not kooky weirdos either. We're just what we are." A decent image, though, is still worth a thousand songs (ask Marilyn Manson), and if it's not their Englishness that holds Suede back in the U.S., then it has to be their appearance. They look weird. Catch the "Beautiful Ones" video: Codling apes the same abstracted pose of diffidence and boredom that once made a star of Sparks' Ron Mael; and Osman and Oakes look like they're trying to extinguish a particularly persistent cigarette end. Their singer is fey. Imagine Bryan Ferry if a stick insect stole his trousers. Their music is arty. And they come on like they're somehow special, so special that America poses little interest or challenge to Suede. Other bands make no secret of their desire to crack the country, nor do they hide their disgust when they fail. Suede, though, never seemed bothered. Past U.S. tours (three so far) have been languid affairs, barely publicized flirtations which almost gratefully acknowledge that as far as most people are concerned, Suede might as well be a lesbian performing artist. Anderson dictates the band's Stateside manifesto: "I don't give a shit." "Don't get me wrong: please don't portray us as some sort of anti-American thing, because we're not. But as far as America is concerned, you can talk about airplay and videos, but all it really boils down to is the fact that America doesn't like Suede. And I'm not going to knock it, if they don't like it, they don't like it." And what don't they like? Kurt Cobain had a tummy ache, and a nation felt his pain. Trent Reznor's dog died, and a nation held his hand. Brett Anderson wrote songs about holes in your arm ("The Living Dead") and pantomime horses ("Pantomime Horse"); he equates love with flyaway litter ("Trash"), and he's never been in rehab. "I hate that rehab shit! That's one place where America get really suckered, with those rehab rock bands. Let me explain what going into rehab means. It means you're cool because you used to do drugs, but now you're a good lad, and you're really '90s, so you want to give them up. But it's a complete excuse, and anybody who says it or does it is a complete careerist. I don't think the public shoulg go out and buy records by people whose record companies have told them to say they're going into rehab. You want to talk about fakes and falseness in the music business; I think this rehab rock thing is such a lot of dog shit." So you don't just say no? "I can't sit here and honestly say that drugs are bad for you, because I don't believe that, and I don't think anybody with a brain believes that." He elaborates: "Smoking a bit of pot and taking a bit of LSD can open a few barriers in your mind, although I certainly don't think taking smack, taking coke or taking crack does anything. I know I've taken drugs before and looked back on it and said, 'That's fucking crap; you should have got your act together and stopped taking them.' They just numb you and turn you into a wrong-thinking fucking idiot. "But that's the whole problem with drugs, isn't it? You can't say 'drugs' because there's so many different factes to it. 'It's an aid to creativity.' Well, some of it is, and some of it isn't. You can't paint everything with one brush." As for the veneer of glamour which Suede's own observations convey, the danger that, to quote the new album's "The Chemistry Between Us," "we are young and easily led," Anderson remains equally adamant. "There's no point in trying to filter things like 'Don't talk about this, don't talk about that.' Lots of times when I'm talking about drugs, I'm talking in a pedestrian context. I'm not trying to make it into a big deal; I talk about it like I'd talk about anything else that's in this room." And though he agrees there is a moral question, he also believes it's impossible to do much about it. "The only way you can set yourself up as something moral is in the broader sense, by not treating music as this completely throwaway, meaningless thing, and not treating the sentiments expressed in the music as completely throwaway, meaningless things. "That's where I see my position morally, someone who can write a love song and actually bring a degree of warmth to someone else. You can't act as censor in your words; you just have to be positive about what you're doing and see that making records that people love, that people cling to, and that help people through sticky patches in their lives is, at the end of the day, a positive thing to do. There's very few things I think that are positive in the world, but music is one of them." And that is that. In an age when a star is only as big as his last three videos, and most stars are as interesting as a line at the post office, Suede are three albums into a career that means more to more people than any of the bickering of Suede's petty, wormwood competitors; and certainly far more than the bitter, twisted harping of their detractors. Stars shine, shit stinks, and the lowest common denominator is nothing to be proud of. No one really wants to watch Hootie feed his blowfish, but Brett Anderson spends "Saturday Night" moping around on a subway train, and it's the best thing on MTV this year. Who cares what else he gets up to? Turning as he heads for the soundstage, Anderson won't be drawn. "My drugs of choice are ginseng and chamomile tea, but don't worry. I'm going into rehab soon."

#brett anderson #mat osman #simon gilbert #richard oakes #neil codling #suede #coming up month #coming up era

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terreisa · 4 years ago

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Love Down the Line: Chapter 5

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, AO3

~*CS*~

Cincinnati, May 12th

“Emma, sweetheart, how’s the tour? Are the fans nice? Have you been able to go sightseeing anywhere?”

“Are you getting enough sleep? You didn’t on the last one and you were basically a zombie when you got back. Did you pack that melatonin I dropped off? What about your meals? You’ve been eating something green everyday right?”

Emma rolled her eyes at Mary Margaret and David’s unending questions. While they’d never formally adopted her they were as close to having parents as she was ever going to get. She absolutely loved them but sometimes they drove her nuts with their worrying.

“The tour is going pretty good and the fans are great as always. No sightseeing since this is the first day of rest we’ve gotten so far and I don’t really feel like leaving the room. I packed the melatonin and I’m getting as much sleep as I can and I’ve eaten green things. Sour apple rings count right?” She stifled a laugh at David’s spluttering and Mary Margaret’s attempts to calm him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Tink’s been on a health kick lately and has been making us drink these smoothie things with more vegetable juices and leafy greens than frozen fruit and Killian refuses to eat fast food so we’ve been stopping at actual restaurants or he’ll cook for us on the bus.”

At the mention of his name Killian popped his head through the doorway that connected their rooms. One of the greatest perks of having him on the tour was no longer having to share one room with both Ruby and Tink while Will got an entire room to himself. Of course Will hadn’t been as enthused about having to share for once.

“Need something, Swan?”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of him. You have been trying to be friendly with him, haven’t you? I know you were hesitant at first but Ruby has nothing but nice things to say about him and he’s been through some tough times.”

“What’s he been cooking? And what kinds of restaurants? Some of those places can be just as bad as fast food and he might not know it.”

Emma was extremely glad that it was only Mary Margaret and David that were on speaker. Though she wouldn’t have put it past Killian to have heard everything they said with the way they were just shy of yelling into their phone to make sure she heard them. As it was he could probably tell they were talking about him from the heat she could feel in her cheeks and ears. She waved him off from her spot on the bed, turning slightly so he could see the phone she was holding. His eyebrows shot up before silently apologizing and ducking back into his room.

“You guys really need to chill out. Everything’s going great, Mary Margaret, and it’s early enough that we’re still getting along. And please stop analyzing what I’ve been eating, David, you’re a sheriff not a nutritionist.”

They both hemmed and hawed but it had been that way since she’d started going further than fifty miles outside of Storybrooke to play her music. At first it had been annoying and unwelcome until she’d realized that that’s what people did when they cared about someone. The Nolans were second to none when it came to worrying and being overprotective out of love.

“Then, as a sheriff, is he being respectful? And I don’t just mean with you and Tink. He’s not trashing hotel rooms or causing disturbances in the cities you’ve been playing at has he? I’ve read about some of the trouble he’s gotten into-”

“David, you didn’t!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Online, stuff online!” David corrected impatiently. “I’m not going to illegally pull a file on someone, no matter how much I want to.”

“So you’d rather rely on gossip sites?” Emma hissed lowly, not wanting Killian to overhear any part of her conversation at the moment. “I thought we’d agreed to not look at those after that one article made you both join Twitter just to berate the author and the site.”

“Hey, now, I got rid of it after that,” Mary Margaret said defensively, “I’m only on Instagram now.”

“I only promised to not look at stuff about you,” David grumbled. “A man with a very public history of causing trouble joins the band on only the good word of one person? I have the right to be concerned.”

She bit back her sigh of frustration. As much as she didn’t like David’s attitude she couldn’t help but understand, seeing as she’d felt almost exactly the same way in the beginning.

“Yeah, you do, but I’m not too worried about it and you shouldn’t be either. You should be more worried about what Ruby’s going to do to you when I tell her you don’t trust her.”

Their twin gasps had her grinning.

“That’s cold, kiddo,” David grumbled.

“Just like your lasagne will be once word gets to Granny,” she said, snickering. “Look, everything’s going great and will keep going great unless you keep sending bad vibes my way.”

“Bad vibes?” Mary Margaret asked with a smile Emma could hear in her voice.

“Yup, the baddest of vibes, ones where I end up with laryngitis or the bus gets a flat in the middle of nowhere or my guitarist breaks their hand and can’t go on tour. Oh wait, that’s already happened.”

Killian took up space in the doorway once again, his eyebrows high on his forehead. She shook her head at his unasked question but didn’t shoo him away again.

“According to Ruby it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her and that it could be the best thing to happen to you. She has been very forthcoming about what Killian going on tour with you might end up becoming,” Mary Margaret said smugly.

“Wait, what do you mean?” David asked confused as Emma scrambled to end that conversation before it started.

“Would you look at the time? I gotta go!”

“Emma, sweetheart-”

“I’ll call you guys in a few days. Love ya, bye!” With a huff she ended the call and dropped her phone onto the mattress, knowing she’d only postponed the inevitable gossip session Mary Margaret wanted to have with her. She looked at Killian, who was still lurking in the doorway, “Yeah?”

“Not to be nosey-”

“But you’re going to be anyway,” she groaned, “You heard your name and you’re curious.”

He chuckled and strode into her room, settling himself on Tink’s bed, leaning back against the headboard, “You would be too. Especially when you have a tenuous hold on a gig and the person who decides your fate has mentioned your name and then not long after is discussing ‘bad vibes’.”

“You think too highly of yourself,” she said dismissively. “I was talking to Mary Margaret and David about how terrible your cooking is and that it’s been giving my stomach bad vibes.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Swan,” he said with a shake of his head, “If I recall correctly you had three servings of last night’s fare.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just replenishing the reserves I used up during the show, Jones. The stir fry wasn’t that special.”

“I see,” he said seriously, rubbing his hand thoughtfully over his chin, “I guess I’ll strike it from future meal options, wouldn’t want you to have to force yourself to eat it before complaining about it to others.”

“That’s not-” she huffed, knowing he’d called her bluff, “Whatever, you know it was great. That’s what I was telling them. David was all upset that I might not be eating what he considers a balanced diet.”

He chuckled, “And the bad vibes?”

“They worry too much and I basically told them they’d be jinxing me if they kept it up. I don’t think Mary Margaret believed me and I know neither of them will relax until the tour’s over,” she sighed, flopping back onto the mattress and staring at the ceiling.

“Is this the same David that inspired you to learn guitar?” Killian asked casually but she could hear the hesitant caution in his tone.

“Yeah, him and Mary Margaret, his wife, kinda latched on and never let go, not even when-” she paused, still unwilling to share her whole messed up story with him, “things got really rough for me. They’re pretty much my parents in every way without actually being my parents, including getting all up in my business and then nagging me about what they find. You know how it is.”

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Killian said softly. She sat up on her elbows and he gave her a self-deprecating shrug, “Mum died when I was eight and my father left when I was ten. Spent a few years living with a distant cousin until things got straightened out.”

She blinked at him in shock. Not once, in any interview or magazine profile had that part of his childhood been discussed. They had only ever mentioned where he’d gone to school before he’d dropped out when the Realm of Jewels started getting big. At the time, when she’d been devouring every piece of media she could when it came to her favorite band, she hadn’t paid attention to that lack of detail. It hadn’t mattered then and while it still made no difference to her it did go a long way in explaining why she felt like she had known him for years instead of weeks.

“You, uh, got adopted then?” She asked hesitantly as she sat up, needing to know if he’d had the same heartaches as her or if he’d been one of the lucky ones.

“Er, not as such, no-” he looked up at the ceiling, his Adam's apple bobbing as his hand rubbed at the back of his neck, “First my brother was granted civil rights for adolescents, essentially cleaving himself out from under the burden of our father. Once he proved he could support not only himself but me as well he became my legal guardian. He had just had his seventeenth birthday the week before.”

“Seventeen?” she breathed, “And you were fourteen.”

His head snapped back down, his eyes wide and his voice a little unsteady, “You really must have been quite the fan if you still remember that bit of trivia.”

“Maybe I was,” she said softly. She dropped her gaze to where her hands were balled up into tight fists in her lap, “Must have been nice. Living with someone that actually wanted you.”

“It was but then there were times where it wasn’t,” he gave a deep sigh and when she looked up he was staring down at his own hands as they played with denim over his knees. “Liam had been my hero my entire life just being my older brother. When he became my guardian I felt as though I had to push myself into perfection to live up to what I thought he expected of me. I’d already started drinking by that point but it didn’t truly become a problem until I was sixteen.

“I knew Liam was disappointed but he had no idea how to help me and I’m not even sure I would have accepted it had he offered. Instead he proposed a compromise of allowing me to play with his newly formed band if I curtailed my drinking substantially. It worked, for a while at least. I’d been playing for quite some time on my own but with the camaraderie of the band and the discovery of actually enjoying writing songs I found an outlet for all the feelings that I’d been trying to drown with the drink. For the first time since Liam had assumed my guardianship I felt as though he was my brother again, not just my beleaguered caretaker.”

Emma wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She didn’t want to inadvertently come across as judgmental by commenting about his drinking but she would have given anything for some relative to have saved her from any one of her foster homes and done whatever they’d ask in gratitude. Though, when she thought about it, Mary Margaret and David were practically the next best thing and she’d given them plenty of teenage attitude at the time. Especially when it came to the year she would give anything to forget.

“Did he throw a fit when you decided to quit school for the band?” She asked, hoping to steer the both of them into less painful and mine filled waters.

He looked up with a small grin, “It was his bloody idea. Liam didn’t want to leave me to my own destructive devices and since the band had been steadily building momentum he was loath to relegate shows to only weekends and holidays while I was in my final year. He put it up to a vote with the others and they agreed. And since I didn’t have a licence yet and therefore couldn’t do my share of the driving I spent my time on the road reading anything and everything I could get my hands on. I’m fairly certain I got a better education that way than I would have otherwise.”

“So is that why you guys were the Jolly Rogers first? A bunch of pirates driving all over England to pillage seedy pubs for fame and fortune?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled, his grin widening.

She grinned back, feeling somewhat proud that she’d been able to somewhat keep herself from completely depressing him with her curiosity. As much as she’d obsessed over him when she was younger she was surprised by how much she actually didn’t know about him, even though she’d just berated David for taking gossip as truth. There was a part of her that itched to know more about him, the real person and not the persona she and millions of fans thought they knew. Their little chats on the bus and in the small bits of down time just weren’t enough and suddenly she had an idea on how to fix that.

“Alright, where to Jones?”

“Er, what?” He asked, his confusion at her non sequitur furrowing his brow.

“I’ve never been to this city before and I know you have so you are now my de facto pirate tour guide.”

“Swan,” he sighed, though his smile was growing by the second, “I’ve only been here twice and both times I only had a few hours to explore, which back then was usually as many bars as I could get to before sound check. I’m probably the last person that should be leading you around this fair metropolis.”

“Too bad-” she jumped up off the bed and began looking for the shoes she’d kicked off as soon as they’d walked through the door earlier that morning, “Google ‘things to do in Cincinnati’ and pretend that you know what you’re talking about. Then I’ll pretend to be impressed like every other time you think you’re being all too cool for school and worldly.”

“Too cool for school?” Killian repeated incredulously. “What are you, twelve?”

“Twenty-eight,” she said absently, grinning triumphantly as she extricated one shoe from under the desk and spotted the toe of the other poking out from under the bed Killian was sitting on.

“Twenty-eight and apparently have no idea how to stroke a man’s ego so he’ll want to do ridiculous favors for you,” he muttered.

She looked up at him sharply and got an eyebrow wiggle in return. With a huff she sat back on her bed to slip on her shoe, “I don’t need to stroke a man’s anything to get him to do stuff for me.”

“Oh, really?” He asked incredulously. “And what pray tell do you do?”

Gladly rising to the challenge she straightened from her bent position she subtly arched her back and blinked owlishly at him, nearly grinning in triumph at the way his mouth parted slightly and he sucked in a breath. She did let a small smile grace her lips as she pointed to the shoe under the bed.

“Can you grab that for me first?”

He nodded, a little slack-jawed, and as soon as he bent over the side of the bed she relaxed her posture. When he came up with the shoe she was waiting with her hand out, her brow raised and a shit-eating grin all in place. At his look of indignation she kind of wished she’d had her phone ready to get a picture of it.

“That’s- that’s bloody manipulation, that is!” He spluttered, slapping her shoe into her palm.

“Ooo, someone’s got their panties in a twist. All I did was ask you to get me my shoe,” she said innocently, putting the shoe on. “Come on Tour Guide, show me the good stuff.”

“Unbelievable,” he growled, but he was shaking his head and smiling. He stood and moved back to his own room, shouting through the open door, “I expect you to pay for whatever unique culinary delight we’ll inevitably be trying. Fool me once, Swan.”

“Shame on you,” she cheerfully called back.

Making sure she had her phone and room key she shot off a text to everyone who needed to know where they were going. It was a request from Regina that she had chafed at and ignored at first, until she began being recognized in the streets and the paparazzi had started following her around. After one incident that had had her holed up in the backroom of a used bookstore with a dead phone, no one’s number memorized and a show that had been only a couple of hours away Regina had put it in her tour contract that she had to be in contact at all times. She still chafed at practically being under her manager’s watchful eye like a toddler but she and Regina both agreed that it was better than being saddled with a handler instead. At her insistence Ruby, Tink and Will were also in the group text so Regina wouldn’t try to hound them about her whereabouts thinking they could be hiding her.

Her phone chimed as she debated whether or not to put on a sweatshirt or her leather jacket.

Rub a dub: you know you could leave me out of this now right?

and ease up on the guilt trip I’m taking you on? no way! She responded, deciding on the sweatshirt and tying it around her waist.

Rub a dub: jokes on you, girly, i’ve got a front row seat

to what? She sent, suspicious and wary about what Ruby could mean.

Rub a dub: if you’re asking you’re not ready to know yet.

Emma glared at her phone for a moment before sending multiple texts demanding Ruby to explain herself that all went unanswered. She growled in frustration and turned to glare at Killian who was once more leaning on the door jamb, chuckling.

“Ruby’s being an ass,” she gave as an explanation, shoving her phone in her back pocket. Then she got a good look at what Killian was wearing, “Is that a Reds hat? I thought you didn’t know the city that well. Why do you have a hat for their team?”

“Oh, you’re a big baseball fan then?” He asked, clearly surprised.

“David is, I’m more of a fan of the way the pants fit. Plus the Reds had that jersey with no sleeves last year. Arms like those tend to stick out in a girl’s memory,” she said dreamily, remembering just how well the players wore those particular jerseys. Then she mentally shook herself and nodded at the hat, “You didn’t answer my question.”

His lips quirked in amusement, lightly touching the hat’s bill and then the sunglasses that she hadn’t noticed hanging from his shirt collar, “I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to blend into the crowd. When we were at the height of… everything it was hard to even step out of the hotel without getting mobbed. Liam discovered, quite by accident mind you, that people didn’t expect to see us dressing ourselves down and to be fans of the local sports teams. Unfortunately it means I have a wide array of ball caps that one would consider quite a collection if they weren’t solely for a practical use. If I had a choice I would have donned the hat from Pittsburgh but I’m not quite sure what rivalries are predominant in this city and I’d prefer not to be verbally insulted over the wrong choice.”

Emma gave a surprised laugh. Just minutes before they’d been having a somber conversation that could have dragged the rest of the day down. Instead they were joking around about baseball and overzealous fans.

“Should I put on some super elaborate disguise too?” She looked up at him with a teasing grin. “I could get a wig or maybe some of those glasses with the fake nose and mustache attached.”

Killian snorted, “As entertaining as that would be I think you’ll be fine, love, as long as you don’t wear the red leather.”

Feeling offended for half a second she begrudgingly agreed with him. Her red leather jacket was her signature look, she’d worn it for all three of her album covers and went out on stage wearing it for the first half of the show. It was as much a look as it was a kind of armor, one she’d been wearing for much longer than she’d been famous for it. Having Killian tell her not to wear it, no matter how practical the advice was or that she’d already decided on a sweatshirt, had her suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Do you… um, do you have a hat I could borrow?”

He looked at her for a moment before nodding and moving back into his room. She followed, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep from hugging her middle to keep herself steady.

As much as the room was identical to hers and Tink’s, the boys’ room looked like a tornado had run through half of it. There were clothes strewn across the far, unmade bed, a rifled through duffle bag under the window, and a tray of mostly-eaten room service food on the desk. In sharp contrast the closer bed was tidily made, a small orderly stack of books and notebooks on the bedside table closest to it. Killian was sorting through one of the drawers of the bureau near the foot of it.

“We’re staying for one night and you put your stuff in the drawers?” She asked incredulously, moving closer to his nightstand to see what books he was reading.

“If it makes any difference-” she looked over at him and saw that he had the bill of a red hat clenched tightly in his hand as his gaze darted between the nightstand and her, “I only unpacked enough for the two days we’re here. Er, looking for something, Swan?”

“Just wanted to see what you were reading,” she said cautiously. Feeling that she’d accidentally hit on yet another touchy subject she stepped back and waved her hand towards the bureau, “But that’s not important, you really took the time to unpack stuff for only two damn days? Do you also set all your stuff out on the bathroom counter with a ruler to make sure it’s all lined up perfectly?”

“Do you want to stand here nit picking my travel habits or do you want to go explore the city?” Killian asked pointedly, stepping forward and holding the hat out to her though she could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Fine, let’s go-” she grinned, grabbing the hat. Catching sight of the logo on the front she held it up with a sigh, “Really? Red Sox? Is it because I’m from Maine?”

“Would you rather wear the Yankees cap?” He challenged.

She shuddered, adjusting the snaps so it’d fit, “Never. David would kill me if I was photographed in it and I’d never be allowed to step foot in Storybrooke again.”

“Do you have a preference then?” He looked back at the drawer, “As I said I have quite the array.”

“This is fine,” she said, trying to sound like it was a burden when she really didn’t care. Grinning she put on the hat, pulling her ponytail through the opening in the back. When she looked at Killian for approval he was watching her with a half grin on his face, “What? Did I somehow put it on wrong?”

“Nothing of the sort, Swan,” he said softly. Then his grin widened “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, pirate guide.”

What followed was a day unlike any Emma had ever had on a tour before. They roamed the streets of the city with Killian making up facts about the various things they saw and their history as she egged him on, resulting in ridiculous stories that had her laughing until she was crying. To her delight they ended their excursion sitting in the upper tier at a Reds game, thoroughly enjoying themselves as just two faces in the crowd. Though, when it came time for the kiss cam she found she was surprisingly disappointed that the camera hadn’t been trained on them. It wasn’t until they’d returned to the hotel and spent an hour moving back and forth between each other’s rooms before parting ways for the night that she figured out what Ruby had meant about having a front row seat.

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