#guildford gigs

[sittidav]

Catch the Duo playing @theolivetreesuttongreen this evening from 8pm, free entry. We are gonna groove all night long!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Davide Sittinieri & Paul Malsom Duo (@davide_paul_duet)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

It's Enough, It's Enough - chapter five

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Chapter: 5 / 6

Summary: Five times Jane and Guildford pretend to have sex, and one time it’s for real.

read on tumblr: one | two | three | four

She's been reading all along. Guildford doesn't know that. She didn't want him to think she wasn't prioritizing the texts on curing Ethianism, and she never wanted him to know that, despite their conversation about marital obligations on the first night of their honeymoon, she's been contemplating the idea of fucking him this whole time. And not just contemplating it, reading about it—which, for Jane Grey, is about as serious as you can get.

Every time she starts to surrender to what her body wants and Guildford stops her, it's embarrassing. Her own fault, of course; even if the eager way she leans in whenever his face comes near totally contradicts them, her words have communicated things like “As if” and “I want a divorce.” Despite her actions, it seems that he heard her from the start and decided to listen. He's not confused. Clearly, Guildford lives in a world where people say a thing and follow through, set their own rules and then abide by them. And Jane lives in a world where her spine dissolves like wet sugar when Guildford stands just a little too close to her. Or smirks at her. Or does anything with his hands, really. Or refers to her as his wife. That gets her too.

The books on sex are as unromantic as Jane imagines is possible. This is maddening, and also probably the reason she doesn't feel like they're helping. She wants to understand, but not like that, or that, or that—flipping through pages on anatomy (she's seen a diagram of a member before) and diseases of the genitalia and their proposed treatments (her eyes widen in horror at repeated suggestions to place plants she knows to be poisonous in extremely delicate areas). It's all just too clinical, and she usually loves clinical! She loves when books present things unemotionally, letting the facts speak for themselves! But that doesn't work for her here. As much as Jane reads about blood and stiffening and insertion, she feels as though she's seeing less than half of the picture. Nothing like the way she feels around Guildford is captured in these pages. Because of that, they're almost no good to her at all.

Getting attempted-murdered in broad moonlight is an unwelcome yet extremely effective distraction. Oh yes, she's considered scenarios that would lead to her waking up on her back in the warm grass, but it was always Guildford who had something to do with that, not Mary. It takes Jane some time before she's able to figure out why she can hardly breathe: the result of Mary's thumbs mashing her windpipe, or fear that someone with stronger thumbs (or maybe a sword) was sent after Guildford to dispatch him too?

But Guildford is alive. For now. Lately, Jane feels as though everything has only been “for now.” She is continually wrong-footed in a world of impermanence. They gain access to the rest of Mary and Seymour's letters, Mary steals them back. Jane awakens from failed assassination-induced unconsciousness, ready to tell Guildford what happened (or maybe that she's starting to understand that thing he sensed she didn't yet the last time they kissed), and he's already a horse. Nothing is certain!

Guildford's father counsels her towards certainty, but it's a certainty of his own desiring, not hers. Neither giving birth to a son nor naming Guildford King (though that's not the order Lord Dudley has in mind) could be easily undone—yet the possibility exists, with so many would-be killers darting about the palace. Regardless, neither action is one she wants to take. Except for maybe the bit about making the son. In this political climate though? Jane doesn't like the idea of using a baby as a tool, even if that is the gig, part and parcel of being a monarch. Again, it's too clinical, making her think of those books with their dispassionate descriptions of the marital act. Does everything in her life need a motive? Must she always pretend to be anticipating something five steps ahead? Will she forever be expected to enjoy scheming as much as the people around her? Why is certainty synonymous with power and never happiness? Can she not fucking live?

Even the project that gives meaning to her marriage, if not her life, is revealed to be pointless; Susannah visits and assures Jane there is no cure to Ethianism. Not being able to disclose to Susannah exactly why that's such bad news makes Jane ache. She needs a friend. She needs Susannah to ask how she is, like she did after Jane's father died. Jane has no clue how to impart this information to Guildford. Is there a way, if she wants to be kind? Can he care for her if she stops being his means to a cure? If she's just a person, full of flaws, letting him down? Is there anything real left between them without their deal? They've done so much pretending. They've built a version of themselves on the lies they've told, and Jane doesn't know whether there is another version.

Leave it to her mother to force the issue. With her usual disregard for what the consequences will be for anyone other than herself, she makes two statements: Guildford is a horse, and Jane is in love with him. Though Jane manages to storm out of the room, her thoughts lack the same decisiveness. It feels to her as if her mother has thrown a knife that skewered the fundamental truth about each of them, Guildford and Jane. He is a horse, and his identity obsesses him, steers him, rides him; everything he values is valued because of its potential to either cure his Ethianism or dull his suffering while he endures the condition that is consumingly hateful to him. She loves him, and the feeling makes her ignore trial, ignore failure; his need for what she is supposed to be able to offer sustains them both. Will he want her if he doesn't need her? Will she stop being afraid long enough to let him?

There are no answers to these questions that she could find in books. There are only her rushing feet—along stone corridors, and then shushing across the lawn. Jane doesn't know how to stop Mary trying to kill her, and she doesn't know how to get justice for Edward, and she doesn't know if Susannah is right about Ethianism or simply angry at what appeared to be Jane's dismissal of their right to exist as themselves. Night has come on and the grass is damp as her dress drags across it. With all Jane's unknowns, at last, she has her certainty: she does not want a divorce. She wants Guildford to stay with her, to be with her, and to be with him, and to let him see that she is afraid, but that she will stay, if he will have her.

It's all circling around her head, so that, when she finds her husband standing at the back of the stables, she isn't sure she even says hello to him before putting a nix on divorce and demanding he kiss her.

She doesn't say she loves him. She doesn't want to talk, she isn't ready. But she's here. Jane's presence is her grand declaration. After all her hesitation, all her needless care, she can't undress him fast enough—can't make him undress her fast enough. She always thought the decision to give in would be difficult, but it's easy, easy, easy. Guildford's mouth on hers is heavy like ripe fruit. His fingers trip over the fastenings that do her up, keep her together, but once he steadies himself, this seems easy too; she wonders if he's pictured it all before: studied her clothing in moments when she was distracted and imagined what it would be like to dismantle his queen's lace and brocade armour. Has he been reading her while she read books?

This, by the way, is what the books couldn't get right: the swoop in her stomach when Guildford pulls her onto his lap, the overwhelming affection in her when she feels him smiling against her lips. Suddenly, Jane registers sympathy for those poor authors. How could they have put this on paper? How could anyone? For all the things that are meant to be read and studied and learned, what's happening between Jane and Guildford, here, now, is only meant to be felt. To transcribe would be to dilute.

She isn't ashamed to be naked before him, and there's nothing clinical about the heat of his member pressed to her thigh when he lies down on top of her in this bed he's maintained in the stables. It smells like him, even here, where the scents of hay and wood and animal are strong. The scent of the bed is exhaustion and resignation, but also refuge. This is where Guildford is both selves, the one he wants and the one he doesn't. He comes here every night when he leaves her. This bed has held her husband when he deemed it unsafe for Jane to do the same. She has a sudden urge to find out what sleep smells like on him, when his body relaxes into the bed that cradles her now. How does he look entirely disarmed? Does being here now mean he'll let her spend the night? She doesn't say she loves him, but she strokes his back while he kisses her hotly and imagines stroking it again while he sleeps.

When the time has nearly come, Jane can tell. She panics. She admits it. And Guildford, who she has seen snide, self-assured, sarcastic, and short-tempered in daily life (or... nightly life), could not be more tender, more sweet. Jane wishes their wedding could have been like this, but in a way, this is a union, and one of their own choosing. He'll show her, no condescension. She'll let him, no injured pride.

He's barely hovering over her as his fingers trace up her thigh. Guildford's touch is so light it almost tickles like his leg hair does—a sensation she's surprised to find comforting, but it reminds her of their first bedding ceremony, his clever deception that spared them both some humiliation. She has always been a consideration for him. His pledge of thoughtfulness is there in his fingertips, in the parting of her, in the caress of the place the arousing fact of his body on hers has made damp. Jane grips his shoulders. Her hands flutter like confused butterflies up to the back of his neck as she trusts him and trusts him and trusts him. She writhes beneath him so much as he runs his careful fingers over and through and into her that he makes as if to climb off her, to give her room. Alight with a pleasure that feels like ringing the rim of a glass, Jane doesn't want room. She wants her husband right here, pressing her down, working her up. She winds her legs around the back of Guildford's calves and holds fast.

His tongue is in her mouth when she finds release in his bed for the first time. Though he drags his sopping fingers out of her, he continues touching her gently while they kiss. On her end, the kisses are nearly formless in the aftermath of the nervous burst that cascaded through her body, and yet Guildford's mouth is patient and forgiving. He grins when her lips meet his teeth, and licks at her, teasingly, when she attempts to slip her tongue into his mouth. Between her thighs, she feels his wedding ring. The smooth metal band bumps over her clitoris, scattering sparks which threaten to start fires; Jane bites her husband's lip to get his attention, then makes him watch her eyes as she rubs herself against the ring that says they are bound before God and England. There will be no divorce, her eyes insist. You were given to me as much as they gave me to you. When he's apparently unable to endure any more, Guildford grasps the base of Jane's skull and devours her mouth. She comes again when he sucks the tip of her tongue. At this rate, he's going to swallow everything her body can't contain.

If she's annoyed to realize she's unwittingly following her mother's advice—mouth closed, legs open—it's a distant annoyance, and it passes. Jane reaches a hand down between them, brushing warm skin on both sides. Their mouths slide apart until Guildford's lips rest against her cheek, not quite kissing. She stops to explore the hirsute path below his navel with her fingertips, lightly scratching her nails forward and back against the texture of his hair. On top of her, Guildford's breathing changes, rough and hitching, wanting her fingers right where they are, but also elsewhere. It's not dissimilar to intoxication, Jane thinks: this warm, loose feeling within her, the way her worries and reticence have left without conscious shedding. She reaches a bit farther (Hold anything firm firmly, and anything soft softly.) and wraps her fingers around his girth.

Her husband is patient, still—if tense—while Jane keeps his member lightly encircled in her grasp as she shuffles her legs apart. The cool sheet under her warm thighs is a relief that won't last. Smoothing her other hand over Guildford's hip, she guides him into the space she's made for him. She gasps when the blunt, wet end of him prods her. When he kisses her, she doesn't know if it's supposed to distract her, but his hand closes over hers and she feels everything.

Instinctually, Jane tilts her hips as he begins to insert himself. Her eyes go wide with surprise at the sensation it was impossible to prepare herself for (not that any of the male authors of those books even thought of soliciting a female perspective on the acts they describe). She can't help laughing at the strangeness. Guildford's (knife-slinging tavern lust-object) member (thick, rigid, twitching against her abdomen while they kissed) is inside her body! They're joined together! And it doesn't even hurt! Logically, Jane understands that this has more than a little to do with Guildford's unhurried fingers preparing her, but it's tempting to surrender herself to the illogical, to romance: it doesn't hurt because he never would, never could, hurt her. Gradually, Guildford sinks deeper. Breathing shakily, Jane bends her knees to hold his hips between her thighs, and then he's fully inside her.

But the end of that part is just the beginning of so much more. Jane loops her arms around Guildford's waist, spreads her hands on his back, feels his muscles go taut as he starts the slow, rhythmic process of consummation. This is their bodies in conversation. It's another way to know one another, and a transformation of them both; Jane can tell by his face, which hovers over hers, his eyes looking down at her with something he doesn't seem able to voice either. But it's there. It's there with them in this bed, in this stable, on this night when nobody told them what to do, or how, or why. Jane hears the soft grunts huffing past her own lips. Latin, Greek, Italian—now she speaks this. It's their own language, and apparently, she's fluent.

In a moment that passes before she can catch it, the sensation of Guildford thrusting within her evolves from feeling strange but good to very, very good. She can feel how wet she is, how steadily he's gliding through, and yet there's suddenly this friction. Her grunts crack open and become breathy cries. It's because she's squeezing him, from within. She's been kneading the muscles of his back, but her own muscles, there inside her, are at least as powerful. They have the power to make Guildford pant like an animal, his hips jerking shallowly against hers until she stops clenching. She offers a slack smile in return for his stunned expression, and then they surge together, grabbing each other's face as they kiss, fingers catching on chins and ears and hair already unkempt from one another's caresses.

Guildford begins rolling his hips into hers harder—not fast, but less restrained. Jane can tell there's so much more he'll show her, something raw she won't see this first time, suppressed so he can give her no more than what she's ready to receive. But it's thrilling to feel him letting go. Her back arches as she tries to meet him in his thrusts, and his curves, his forehead pressed somewhere around her collarbone. He exhales against her skin, hot gusts of air. When he widens his legs, braced up on his knees, it pushes hers farther apart too. There's nothing coy or secret now; her body is held wide for him, and she welcomes it. She digs her fingers into his hair and closes them in a fist. Guildford's lips rub against her skin as he cries out. With quick, mindless snaps of his hips, he finishes inside her.

Feeling as if she's just been awoken from the dead (but no, that was this morning), Jane's heart beats at a rapid pace. Her thighs are shaking uncontrollably. She's overwhelmed. She wants to both crush Guildford against her and shove him away so she can order her thoughts. This is what it feels like, then, to experience someone else's pleasure so close at hand and not achieve her own end. It'll be fine in a minute—he brought her off twice before—but right now, she feels insane.

But Guildford sees it—of course he does. He lifts his head and the hazy bliss in his dark eyes sharpens as he notes the state she's in. He grips himself on withdrawal, and Jane nearly has a fit at the thought of his fingers remaining down there, massaging between her legs again (oh, she wants it, but it might be more than her overstimulated sex can bear). He doesn't do that though. Her husband holds himself heavily on top of her and starts kissing her everywhere but her mouth. He presses his thigh between hers, just presses, and makes his meandering way down her neck, lips below her jaw, lips on her throat, lips where her hair's stuck to her skin with sweat, lips where her body has surely taken on the scent of his. He explores her chest. His mouth skims the breadth of it before going lower. When he gets to her breasts, there's tongue. Guildford licks her—the underside curve, the nipples stiff with sensation—and his thin necklaces hang against her ribs, catching the candlelight when she looks. Between his curious tongue and the pressure of his thigh, Jane shuts her eyes and shudders to quiet release.

She comes back to herself with Guildford stroking her hair.

They lie side by side for a while, not speaking. She wonders if he reads much at night, or if these hours are always kept for silent contemplation. She wonders if he feels as alone here as she does up in the palace.

The bed cools, but their legs are intertwined, and Guildford runs hot. Jane has just learned that, having never lain beside him before, except for the bedding ceremony, which shouldn't count. Anyway, they weren't naked then, and they are now. She feels a bit shy, but mostly, it's nice. He touches her just because, hand sliding down her arm. He touches her like it's the only important thing. Does he love her? She wants him to love her. She wants him to love her whether or not there's a cure.

They kiss when they think they're falling asleep, but the kissing wakes them back up. Their breathing grows rough and their mouths meet with increasing need. They grab at each other, pulling themselves into greater contact. Jane's aroused like she always is when they kiss, but the familiar throb is gone, replaced by the larger, more distinct ache that says her body knows exactly what it's missing—knows Guildford's size and shape.

Very softly, he asks, “Are you too sore?”

Jane shakes her head firmly.

She is kind of sore, but a strained-muscle soreness, a blunt, tired twinge. She knows pain of all varieties. She knows the difference between pains that will hurt more and less the next morning. Tomorrow, what she's feeling now might feel worse, but this is a special circumstance. Guildford is a special circumstance.

So, Jane hooks her thigh over her husband's hip. He groans to re-enter her. He's tired and pliant and starving for her after the time they've spent wanting and not having; he pours all this feeling into her, thrusts breaking against her like deep currents churned up into waves. She rocks with him. Her limbs fold him close to her, but his thrusts get wilder, and she pulls him over her again. There is no separation, she decides. No line between what is the human world and what the natural. She wants to know everything her husband is, especially when he takes her like this—taking her with him, it feels like, wherever he plans for them to go. Good, Jane thinks. You decide.

She likes being here. She puts herself in his hands.

—

Author's Note:

I'm doing the 5 + 1 out of order (this chapter is the + 1). Though Jane and Guildford have now had sex for real, there is one more instance of pretending in their future. It ain't over yet!

[max-harwood-fans]

Max Harwood

Max William James Harwood is indeed an English actor who made his debut in the lead role of the film adaptation of the musical "Everybody's Talking About Jamie" in 2021. The film is based on a true story and follows a 16-year-old boy from Sheffield, England, who dreams of becoming a drag queen. Max Harwood received critical acclaim for his performance, which was seen as a breakout role for the young actor. He was named a "Brit to Watch" by Variety in 2021, which recognizes emerging talent in the British entertainment industry.

Max William James Hardwood, the rising British star, has become the talk of the town lately. From choosing ‘one-of-a-kind’ movie roles to making a statement in the fashion industry, Max has been a little busy. Starring in the critically acclaimed movie ‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’ has been a turning point in Harwood’s career. The 25-year-old was picked from a crowd of 3000+ actors to portray the role of the aspiring drag queen. Although the role was the first professional gig in Hardwood’s career, he did not shy away from making a mark and going above and beyond for this unique role. Starring opposite familiar faces in Hollywood, Max Harwood has managed to give justice to a role that holds a high value in the queer community.

Just as he is experimenting with his roles, Max Harwood has been churning out new fashion looks for the red carpet. One of the most iconic looks is the ensemble he wore at the British Fashion Awards 2021. Designed by the acclaimed London Designer, Kaushik Valendra, the fashion piece sure spoke volumes about Harwood’s personality and style. The unique single-seam sleeveless piece with its pearl buttons and the cotton fabric was the perfect outfit for a glam night. Paired with straight-leg trousers, and embellished with side pockets, the outfit was one of the high-end pieces from the brand Maison Valendra. Harwood's look at the Bafta nomination party also received praise from fashion critics. Again, dressed by Kaushik Valendra, the outfit included a pleated shirt with a sleek and stylish silk collar. It was paired with super pleated designer trousers and a cropped vest over the shirt.

Born in the beautiful town of Basingstoke, Max Harwood had an interest in fashion right from his childhood. He admits that he used to frequently dress up in costumes and sing his heart out when given the chance. His quirky and charming personality helped him to connect with everyone around him. Following his passion for creative arts, he joined the local youth theater productions and began performing in a bunch of productions. Joining the Guildford School of Acting fueled his passion for acting. Starting strong with ‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’, we sure can expect big things from this rising star.

With new genres of movies gaining mass recognition over traditional storytelling, we can expect exciting roles from Max Harwood in the coming years. It has been a giant leap of faith for him. From working at the local theater and hoping to see his face on the screen one day to actually having his face displayed on posters and billboards, the transition has been at a slow and steady pace for him. As a creative person, who wanted to share his stories with the audience, his acting career allows Max Harwood to immerse himself in different roles and sell the story with a unique approach. Being a social fanatic, Max loves to give us a peek at what is happening in his life through his social handles. As the future is bright for this rising star, we can expect more incredible things from Max Harwood. 

[thekubricks]

WE’RE BACK!!! It’s great that we can finally release the dates for our upcoming autumn tour. It’s been a long, long time coming, but we can’t wait to see everyone really soon. Tickets available now here: https://www.thekubricks.com/gigs/

[walking2mordor]

THE DARKNESS!! As always they were so great haha I'm never not excited to get to see them!!

[coffeeandcomposure]

[life-of-raver]

[nic-214]

Happy heavenly 80th birthday to Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones!

Lewis Brian Hopkin Jones was an English musician and composer, best known as the founder and original leader of the Rolling Stones.

Brian Jones was born in the Park Nursing Home in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, on 28 February 1942 to Lewis Blount Jones and Louisa Beatrice Joneswere. Brian had two sisters; Pamela, who was born on 3 October 1943 and died on 14 October 1945 of leukaemia; and Barbara, born on 22 August 1946.

An attack of croup at the age of four left Brian with asthma that lasted for the rest of his life.

Both Jones's parents were interested in music; his father, Lewis, was a piano teacher in addition to his job as an aeronautical engineer, and his mother, Louisa, played piano and organ and led the choir at the local church

Brian listened to classical music as a child but preferred blues, particularly Elmore James and Robert Johnson. In 1957, Jones first heard Cannonball Adderley's music and this inspired his interest in jazz.

Jones persuaded his parents to buy him a saxophone and two years later his parents gave him his first acoustic guitar as a 17th-birthday present. Jones began performing at local blues and jazz clubs, while busking and working odd jobs.

In late summer 1959, Jones's girlfriend (they were both aged 17), a Cheltenham schoolgirl named Valerie Corbett, became pregnant. Although Jones is said to have encouraged her to have an abortion, she carried the child to term and placed baby Barry David Corbett (later Simon) for adoption.

In November 1959, Jones went to the Wooden Bridge Hotel in Guildford to see a band perform. He met a young married woman named Angeline, and the two had a one-night stand that resulted in her pregnancy. Angeline and her husband decided to raise the baby, Belinda, born on 4 August 1960. Jones never knew about her birth.

On 22 October 1961, Jones's girlfriend Pat Andrews gave birth to his third child, Julian Mark Andrews. Jones sold his record collection to buy flowers for Pat and clothes for the newborn.

As Richards tells it, Jones came up with the name the "Rollin' Stones" (later with the 'g') while on the phone with a venue owner.

"The voice on the other end of the line obviously said, 'What are you called?' Panic! The Best of Muddy Waters album was lying on the floor—and track five, side one was 'Rollin' Stone Blues'".

The Rollin' Stones played their first gig on 12 July 1962 at the Marquee Club in London, with a line-up of Jagger, Richards, Jones, Stewart, bass player Dick Taylor (later of the Pretty Things) and drummer Tony Chapman.

In 1963, Brian began a relationship with Linda Lawrence. On 23 July 1964, Lawrence gave birth to Jones's fourth child, Julian Brian Lawrence.

In early October 1964 an occasional girlfriend of Brian's, Dawn Molloy, announced to Brian and the Rolling Stones' management that she was pregnant by him.

She received a cheque for £700 from group manager Andrew Loog Oldham. In return, she signed an agreement that the matter was now closed and that she would make no statement about Jones or the child to the public or the press. The undated statement was signed by Molloy and witnessed by Mick Jagger.

After trouble with the law and wanting to tour America the Rolling Stones were done with the irresponsible Brian Jones. To the public it appeared as if Jones had left voluntarily; the other band members told him that although he was being dismissed, it was his choice how to break it to the public.

Jones released a statement on 9 June 1969, announcing his departure. In this statement he said, among other things, that, "I no longer see eye-to-eye with the others over the discs we are cutting". He was replaced by the 20-year-old guitarist Mick Taylor, formerly of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers.

At around midnight on the night of 2–3 July 1969, Jones was discovered motionless at the bottom of his swimming pool at Cotchford Farm. His Swedish girlfriend, Anna Wohlin, was convinced he was alive when he was taken out of the pool, insisting he still had a pulse.

However, by the time the doctors arrived, it was too late and he was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital, at the age of 27.

The coroner's report stated it was a drowning, later clarified as "death by misadventure", and noted his liver and heart were greatly enlarged by past drug and alcohol abuse.

Jones was reportedly buried 10 feet deep in Cheltenham Cemetery, to prevent exhumation by trophy hunters. His body was embalmed, with hair bleached white, and was placed in an air-tight silver and bronze casket.

He's processed in death alongside his sister Pamela.

He leaves behind his family, friends, many fans, and leaves quite a few children fatherless.

If alive today he would have been 80. Instead he's forever 27, in a life of troubled youth who wanted the rock n roll life at any cost. Fly high sky bird 🕯️ 🕊️

[teddyche]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠  📚   𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆.

name  :   theodore ‘teddy’ che

age  :   thirty-two ( born sept 25th )

gender & pronouns  :   cis man & he / him

neighborhood  :   outpost

occupation  :   high school english teacher

faceclaim  :   henry golding

about.     wanted.     pinterest.

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲.

–  our story begins in kuala lumpur.  english rose and scientific prodigy eloise chapman was doing a year abroad in the capital of malaysia when she met daniel che,  a student at the university of malaya.  despite their vastly different backgrounds  (  eloise came from old money,  whereas the ches made their riches through real estate development over the last few decades  ),  the two hit it off in an instant,  and once the year was up,  daniel followed eloise back to oxford without a second thought  --  much to the chagrin of his father,  who had been grooming him to inherit the family business.

–  first came marriage,  then came babies  --  four of them to be exact,  with little theodore bringing up the rear as the youngest.  growing up in their guildford estate,  teddy and his siblings wanted for little.  while his mother and father paved the way with their innovations in biochemistry,  the kids were put through their paces in prep school.  

–  as the son of two academics,  teddy had all the tools to be a promising student but none of the drive.  try as he might to stay interested in his classes,  distractions were everywhere and he was certainly guilty of getting wrapped up in them.  by the time adolescence rolled around,  his siblings had all gone off to oxford and teddy was drowning in his studies.  thankfully,  his favorite teacher was there to throw him a life raft.

–  james caddington completely changed the game.  with his warm demeanor and endless supply of book recommendations,  he single-handedly got teddy excited about literature for the first time in  --  well,  ever.  he began reading not only for school but for pleasure,  and all those nights in did wonders for the rest of his courseload.  thanks to mr. caddington,  he passed secondary with flying colors.  when oxford once again found itself in his sights,  his parents were delighted  --  but teddy had other plans.

–  announcing that he was venturing overseas to study at harvard university rocked the che household to its core.  it didn’t matter that harvard was ranked number one in the world  --  they were an oxford family.  rich people problems,  am i right ?  teddy finally managed to appease his parents by promising to major in something “useful”.  economics was boring as sin,  but science had always been his worst subject and it was the lesser of all evils.

–  thus began the harvard era.  his courseload was absolutely miserable,  every book on his desk full of numbers instead of stories.  if it weren’t for his plum editing gig at the harvard review,  the ivy’s esteemed literary magazine,  he likely would’ve crawled back to england with his tail between his legs.  this time,  it wasn’t a teacher who saved his life but a girl.

–  they met at a poetry reading,  locked eyes across the pub and the rest was history.  madeline  (  “call me maddie”  )  was incredible.  not only did she convince him to pursue literature,  she also convinced his parents to be cool with it.  she was charming and intelligent,  with a job offer at the smithsonian already lined up after graduation.  teddy had always believed his father leaving everything behind to follow his mother was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard,  so when maddie announced she was moving to DC,  his next step was clear.

–  he’d go on to get his masters in education from georgetown university,  and the night of his graduation,  he finally popped the question.  the next eight months were a blur of wedding planning,  and it was shaping up to be the event of the century.  the morning of his wedding,  teddy dressed in his tux without a care in the world,  ready to marry his soulmate.  but when he arrived at the church,  maddie’s best friend and maid of honor was out front waiting for him.  she could barely look him in the eye as she told him maddie was not coming.

–  officially in panic mode,  teddy got into his car and drove  --  and drove,  and drove.  unfortunately,  his beloved 60s aston marton was not equipped to handle the spontaneous trip.  it broke down on the side of the road somewhere in georgia,  just outside a town called iron river.  he managed to get it to a repair shop in town,  where the kind-eyed mechanic informed him it’d take her about a week to get the car back on its feet.

–  he was supposed to be in the maldives on his honeymoon.  instead,  he was stranded in salt county,  staying in a crumby motel without even a change of clothes to his name.  the situation was less than ideal,  yet somehow,  against all odds  . . .  he fell in love.  between boston and DC,  teddy never really thought to picture what life in the states looked like for him.  turns out,  it was this.

–  so he got a job teaching english at the local high school and made his most impulsive purchase to date  --  a house in the outpost.  he’s been in iron river for over a year and a half now,  turning lemons into lemonade.  who would’ve thought the worst day of his life would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to him ?

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

teddy is very passionate about snacks.  he keeps them in his desk and is the kind of teacher who throws out candy for class participation.  literally always at the grocery store replenishing his personal and professional snack collection.

father to an adorable brown cat named dodger  --  not an oliver twist reference but a tribute to his favorite biscuit,  jammy dodgers.  dodger actually owns the house,  he just lets teddy live there. 

LOVES the neon moon saloon without a trace of irony and would go there every single night if he could.  addicted to pac-man and skiball.

not quite as hopeless a romantic as he once was and definitely a bit less reckless with a heart,  but he still has dreams of finding his person <3  swipe right,  babie !

inspirations  :   rupert giles  (  btvs  ),  arthur weasley  (  harry potter  ),  richard campbell gansey iii  (  the raven cycle  )

frequented locations  :   neon moon saloon,  horizons grocery store,  the farmer’s market,  the heights,  whiskey garden

[dtroundabout-blog]

Monday: Three days to go: The final piece of the puzzle fits into place. We are very excited about our gigs this week at @suburbs_holroyd with @proudmarymusic and @unitedbrethren. See you soon, Downtown ☓ #monday #mondaymotivation #roadtonowhere #sunny #instamusic #three #countryuk #countrymusic #americana #band #gigs #proudMary #guildford #chelmsford (at Alaska) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzX4aRPgHD2/?igshid=1x7khri912nvz

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Robyn Hitchcock - The Lion's Lair, Denver, Colorado, April 5, 2005

It's a post-Thanksgiving Summer of Robyn installment! This is a show I not only attended, but also wrote a review of for a certain internet publication. I'm rescuing it from there ... Enjoy.

“This next song is the hat from which I was magically pulled out,” Robyn Hitchcock before launching into a reverent rendition of Bob Dylan’s Blonde On Blonde epic “Visions Of Johanna.” Hitchcock is known for peppering his live sets with colorful banter, usually of the non sequitur or surrealist variety. But this remark was particularly revealing.

Hitchcock is most often compared to his English songwriting brethren John Lennon and Syd Barrett, but it’s with Dylan that Hitchcock’s true alliances lie. His best work captures the waking dream quality of “Johanna”. Hitchcock’s often-hallucinatory imagery isn’t simply weirdness for weirdness’ sake — it’s an attempt to convey the restless and strange inner-workings of the human imagination. Such a trip can be alternately dark or whimsical, lucid or confusing, openhearted or cynical — like Dylan in the mid-1960s. And yet Hitchcock is never merely imitative — it’s more as though he’s absorbed Dylan’s greatest music directly into his bloodstream.

The Lion’s Lair gig was the final date in a solo jaunt supporting the songwriter’s latest release, Spooked, though you might not have known it — Hitchcock didn’t bother playing anything from the new record for the first 45 minutes. Which is fitting; he’s far too deep in his career to stick to concert convention. Hitchcock has nearly 30 years worth of songs, a wealth of tunes spanning from his days with the Soft Boys to his mainstream flirtations with the Egyptians to his ongoing acoustic troubadour tunes. He spent this show dipping into this vast catalogue, weaving both reliable warhorses like “Madonna of the Wasps” and “Queen of Eyes” as well as fan-appreciated curios like “Trash” and “Nietzsche’s Way” into a frequently mesmerizing two hour set.

Particularly affecting was a dusky reading of “No, I Don’t Remember Guildford”, one of Hitchcock’s best recent songwriting efforts. The song features a haunting, unresolved melody, a perfect fit to the lyrics’ regretful tone. Hitchcock capped off this rendition with a long, winding harmonica solo, conjuring up the ghost of Dylan’s 1966 acoustic sets. Another stunning moment was the nimble-fingered guitar work that closed a gorgeous version of “Glass Hotel”. Hitchcock’s acoustic guitar sound is unmistakable, drawing equally from English folkies like Martin Carthy and the bell-like tones of Roger McGuinn.

As with most performers in their fifties, Hitchcock can’t quite reach the notes he hit as a younger man, but what he’s lost in vocal range, he’s made up for in warmth. His vocal chords have acquired a pleasing rasp that (again) recalls a certain Mr. Zimmerman. And he’s never seemed happier to be onstage, trading some of his past aloofness for an easy rapport. As if to prove this newfound fondness for his devoted followers, Hitchcock spent the encore navigating through the crowd, singing and playing guitar sans amplification. The Lion’s Lair — a small club for someone of Hitchcock’s cult hero status — was close to sold out, so this was a tricky maneuver. But Hitchcock pulled it off with witty aplomb, segueing from a hilarious rendition of David Bowie’s “Sound and Vision” into Carl Douglas’s “Kung Fu Fighting.”

The ’70s seemed to be on the singer’s mind this evening — not only did he play his own “1974” he also (somewhat ill-advisedly) attempted to cover the BeeGees’ “Stayin’ Alive.” More successful was Hitchcock’s take on The Beatles’ “Day In the Life” which captured all of the world-weariness of the original. Even when he’s imitating, Hitchcock is hardly imitative. He may toy around in the shadows of others, but as tonight’s show reminds us, when he steps into the light he casts a pretty long one himself.

Robyn Hitchcock | Web | Patreon | Bandcamp

[deathbeforebrand]

How a gig venue wall should look #wall #stickers #bands #music @boileroom #gig #venue #guildford #mrbingo @mr_bingstagram #goodtimes (at The BOILEROOM) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuNNl7HnIoP/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wch5z9vevhxd

[secondhandnewsradio]

SHN INTERVIEW: Sleep Walking Animals

by Claire Silverman

Sleep Walking Animals, comprised of Tom, Jack, Joe, Alex, and Nuwan, are an indie folk/rock band from Manchester, England. They are releasing their debut single "Aengus' Fool" on February 14th. Their expansive and layered sound paired with their poetic lyrics will leave you hungry for more, but don’t worry: it’s coming.

CS: First off, I just want to say congratulations on releasing your debut single "Aengus’ Fool." How are you all feeling?

Tom: It’s all really exciting, it’s been a long time coming. We’ve had this song for maybe a year and a half now, going through quite a laborious process to get it made, get it recorded and mixed and mastered, but we’re here now, and it seems like a good time to be releasing music. It seems like people kind of need it at this point, so, yeah, it’s come at a good time.

CS: So how did you guys choose this as your first song to release, what was that process?

Jack: I think it was the first song we all wrote as a new band. Tom and Joe had written stuff together, and then I came aboard, Alex and Nuwan came aboad and we kind of all wrote this together. It’s got that weight to it, and we love playing it, so it was kind of a no-brainer. It encapsulates our sound quite nicely.

CS: What was the process of writing this song, did you start with the melody or the lyrics?

Tom: This one started with lyrics. I’d had this idea for this song for a little while and I was trying to find a way to encapsulate all these ideas that I had and to condense them into one song. The lyrics came after a couple of months of reading different material and listening to different artists and getting inspiration from different sources. And then once we had the lyrics, we all put our heads together and just started coming up with different motifs and then once we had those we started trying different harmonies, layering different parts. We’re quite lucky in the sense that everyone in this band can sing, so to layer harmonies is really not that difficult. It’s great because everyone can chip in.

CS: I wanted to ask specifically about the line “sifting through poems for phrases to keep.” I love that line, who came up with that?

Tom: Yeah, that was mine, yeah. Glad you like it. It came to me because I have done that. I’ve been that person.

Jack: I think we all have.

CS: Did the pandemic impact the release of this song and what you guys were doing?

Tom: If anything, it helped us. It gave us a bit more time to get things in place. We didn’t want to rush it. We wanted to have the artwork in place, we wanted to have a bit of hype on social media about when it was going to drop and have people anticipate it, and with this added time that we’ve had with the world on pause, it’s allowed us a bit of playing room, and we’ve tried to utilize that as best as possible.

Jack: It’s been our busiest year even though we’ve only seen each other three or four times. We played one gig last year, and then the rest of it has just been on Whatsapp and we’ve managed to record a whole EP.

CS: I wanted to ask about the single cover art because it’s beautiful. I actually recognized it from a photo on your Instagram, Tom.

Tom: It’s a picture that I took on New Year’s Day this year on Hay Bluff, which is part of the Black Mountains. We just loved the picture, the way the light sat on the snow, where the mountain finished and the sky began.

Jack: I made an etching of Tom's epic photo of Hay Bluff and printed it in ink, and my dad did the graphic design. We wanted it to have an element of the surreal so I added this abandoned bed which sits alone in the cold landscape. Kinda Dali-esque.

Tom: We fell in love with that idea. There’s something about a mountain as well, there’s a line in the song “I’ll shout from the mountains like Aengus’ fool” and we just wanted that kind of epic, anthemic feel to the strength of the sound that we’re making, this percussive triumphant feeling, and we thought the mountain did that.

CS: So how did you all come together as a band?

Joe: I’ve known Tom since we were very young, and in about 2017, Tom had been writing on his own, and I’d been sort of trying to on my own, and then I went to see him in New York and we did a bit of writing together. Then when I came back, we were doing it over Whatsapp like we’ve been doing it this past year, sending song ideas and lyrics. I was living with Jack at the time and tried getting him on board once Tom had come back from New York, I wanted Jack because he had just bought a double bass for some reason, so we were like “yeah go on, we’ll get some of that in,” and he didn’t want to at first—

Jack: Now, well, I can’t remember this, you’ve said this a few times, and I can’t remember ever not wanting to be in the band.

Joe [laughing]: You didn’t want to.

Jack: I want it on record now, I’ve always wanted to be in the band. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.

Joe: There was some persuading, and then once we had our first rehearsal, you were like “this is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.” So we got Jack on board, and then I’d done a show with Alex—

Alex: Yeah we were in Cilla together, I was George and Joe was Paul.

Joe: So that’s how we met. We were the Beatles and just every night we’d sort of been gigging and it was fun, so I was like “yeah let’s get Alex on board because he can play guitar.” And then I’d known Nuwan for ages, I went to uni, drama school with Nuwan and we used to go busking together on the streets of Guildford trying to get some extra cash and we needed a drummer as well so there we go.

Tom: It was just a case of finding what we didn’t have and working towards panning out the sound. For a little while we had Joe on acoustic guitar and kicking the crap out of a bass drum at the same time and it wasn’t ideal.

Joe: Like Dick Van Dyke, innit.

Tom: Yeah, like Dick Van Dyke, one man band. Luckily, we found the dream team.

CS: Do you all have other artists or people that inspire your music?

Tom: Yeah, definitely. I for one wouldn’t be a songwriter without a number of artists who’ve inspired me over the years. Guy Garvey, Hozier, Robin Pecknold, the list goes on. It’s finding different mediums too, not just musicians and songwriters, it’s poets and novelists and painters.

Joe: Damien Rice, his songs were very influential.

Jack: And Paul McCartney is a big one for me, because my dad used to just play his solo stuff over and over.

Nuwan: Billy Joel is one for me, one of many.

Alex: I think that’s a good thing with our band, because we all have collectively such a wide range of influences and the way we all individually bring them in and mix them together, I think the combination of everything just—I feel like we’re starting to really get our sound as well because of the style that everyone’s bringing in when we’re in rehearsals and writing. It’s really nice, especially with all the recording we’ve started to do, it feels like we’re really gauging what what we’re going for, and we’re able to find it easier and we have a clearer path.

CS: Earlier you said that you have an EP in the works, do you know when we can expect more music from you guys?

Tom: Yeah, at the moment the idea is we’re going to release five singles, spread those releases out over weeks and months and then eventually once those are out, we are going to collate them onto one vinyl. That’ll include behind-the-scenes photographs and lyric sheets and little messages from the band, so that’ll be a good way to have a first taste of Sleep Walking Animals and preempt our inevitable album.

CS: Thank you so much for sitting down to chat with me about your debut single, "Aengus’ Fool." I really love the song and I’m excited to see what you guys do in the future!

[This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.]

FOLLOW THE BAND:

INSTAGRAM: @SLEEPWALKINGANIMALS

TWITTER:@SWALKINGANIMALS

FACEBOOK: @SLEEPWALKINGANIMALS

YOUTUBE: SLEEP WALKING ANIMALS

WWW.SLEEPWALKINGANIMALS.COM

Originally published on Instagram @shnradio on February 14, 2021

[alishameehanmusicjournalism-blog]

EJK started off as a project “the album 1 in 7” then became much more than that. Now EJK is a fully formed band playing concerts, festivals and fundraisers. Based in Guilford but happy to travel, this band is formed of some amazing and diverse musicians.

Saturday 29th April, I got the chance to see Everyone Just Knows live at The Boileroom for the Rock 4 Refugees event, and seriously, these guys are awesome! The Boileroom itself was a great venue, with a proper VIP feel for the bands on stage with the front of stage barrier and a large area for the audience. To get through into the stage, you had to clamber through a small hatch, however when two people are loading in gear, this is actually a rather efficient way of getting gear straight into position. The venue itself had a real rock vibe to it, with all the posters from previous events plastered to the walls and ceiling!

Moving onto, with an Evanescence vibe, EJK included dark melodies and deep lyrics, with counter melody riffs between the bassist and guitarist, adding a real unique texture to their set, and some call and response techniques through their performance.

Their lead singer EJ, brings a huge female presence to the stage and her interaction with the rest of the band is touching and truly shows the meaning of being in a band.

Her strong adlibs in her falsetto range are seriously haunting, especially during their song ‘Goodbye Faith’ which had a Nothing But Thieves vibe going on. They tell most performers to open their eyes during a performance, however EJ’s performance with closed eyes throughout really added to this mysterious aesthetic that she was producing. This song opened with a magical vocal acapella section which followed an ancient Celtic sound.

Drummer Max, played with extreme tightness which complimented the feel of the set, throughout every song he maintained a perfect beat and his fills and solo skills were on point.

Alongside their originals, EJK performed a cover of ‘Drive’ by Incubus which had a naturally lazy falsetto vocal which matched perfectly to a Nirvana sort of vibe, with the guitars playing a ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ style riff.

Their song ‘With You’ had a metal influence with dirty, chunky rhythms, enough to make you head bang throughout the entire song!

I really enjoyed their set and I can definitely say I am 100% a fan and will definitely be going to see them perform again! Go ahead and check them out here!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EveryoneJustKnowsEJK/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EveryoneJKnows

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/everyonejustknows/

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCbGb_bp42PBmQSHUfAfhEgA

[walking2mordor]

THE DARKNESS!! As always they were so great haha I'm never not excited to get to see them!!

[coffeeandcomposure]