#heavy metal at glastonbury

[sabinastent]

“If you’re going to be a fucking rock star, go be one. People don’t want to see the guy next door on stage; they want to see a being from another planet.”

Ian Fraser “Lemmy” Kilmister, 24 December 1945 - 28 December 2015.

Pyramid Stage @ Glastonbury, 26 June 2015. 📷: Joel Ryan

[velvet-cupcake-games]

hospital au with marion as a new resident and geoffrey as the hot but abrasive with a heart of gold, House MD type chief of surgery NEOWWWW

Disclaimer: I know nothing about medicine. Nothing. My apologies and tremendous respect to any of you in the medical field. Just pretend this hospital works like this, because I'm sure I got it wrong.

I approached the intimidating office door, clasping my clipboard in a white-knuckle grip. It was like every other office door in the hospital, save for the nameplate at the side. Dr. Woodthorpe CHIEF OF SURGERY

He was known for eating residents alive, and I'd been avoiding direct contact with him. But my luck had run out. I'd been summoned for a conference with the man, though I had no idea why.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked with as much confidence as I could muster. He was known to ignore a half-hearted knock.

"Enter."

Good. I hadn't been judged half-hearted yet. I pushed open the heavy door.

He sat behind his desk with a regal demeanor, as though he were some sort of Medieval feudal lord. The man was distressingly handsome, with Grecian features, piercing slate grey eyes, and sleek raven-black hair that brushed his shoulders. It was too bad about his personality.

"Please sit."

I pulled out a chair, the metal legs sliding against the tile floor with a horrifying screech. He didn't move a muscle until I was seated and giving him my best friendly smile. He did not smile in return. He merely pulled out a file. My file.

"Dr. Marion Glastonbury. Exemplary academic record. Excellent patient care feedback."

His fingers tapped the relevant sections on the paperwork as he spoke. I waited in silence for the other shoe to drop.

"But there have been complaints, have there not?"

"I... I am not always known for showing adequate respect to authority figures, sir."

Not that I wanted to antagonize this particular authority figure. I had an unfortunate temper, but I wasn't stupid.

He huffed slightly. Was it in exasperation or amusement? His countenance was so stern that I couldn't quite tell.

"Let's see... did you indeed tell Dr. McGillis that he lacked the requisite body parts to make proper pain management decisions in gynecology?"

"He was routinely under-dosing the patients and wouldn't listen to them. Or me."

"I myself lack a left tibia, fibula, and multitudinous foot bones that you no doubt memorized in your first year of medical school, not long ago. Should I be banned from tending to all patients with two biological legs?"

I squirmed in discomfort.

"Of course not. But you know the research shows that cisgender male doctors regularly underestimate uterine pain."

"True, though I'd have recommended taking that complaint through proper channels, Dr. Glastonbury."

His finger tapped down to the next complaint.

"I see you also informed a visiting proctologist that he ought to, and I quote, 'take his misogyny and stick it where the sun don't shine?'"

His lips quirked slightly. Was he trying not to laugh?

"He refused to stop calling the patient 'Doll' after she repeatedly asked him not to. I'll note that I saved that comment for when we were out of patient earshot."

I hoped he would be impressed by my forbearance.

"Inadvisable, either way."

I supposed that hope was in vain.

"And last but most certainly not least, you... pretended to be under demonic possession in front of a priest who was visiting a patient in the recovery room? I must admit, I am dying to learn more about this particular incident."

Oh gods. I didn't think that one had made it into the records.

"Well you see, the patient had a workplace accident, and he forgot he'd listed his mom as his emergency contact. She joined a cult last year, and he's gay, and she's been dying for the chance to let one of their shady practitioners at him, and-"

"To the point, please," he interrupted me.

"Ah yes, so uh, I'd buzzed security, but they were taking a while to respond. So in order to distract them and protect the patient I, ah, improvised?"

I hated how my voice had swooped upward at the end of that sentence, but Dr. Woodthorpe's dispassionate stare was starting to get to me.

"I... see."

He was silent for a moment, so I worked up the courage to find out what exactly was going on here.

"Doctor, may I ask a question?"

"You know my policy on questions."

"I may ask anything as long as it's not imbecilic, yes. I... well... Why am I here discussing my complaints record with you? You're not HR."

"That's an acceptable query."

He stood and strolled over to my side of the desk. Or was it stalked? He had a predatory feline grace to him, and I tried not to let it affect me. He propped his hip up against the desk, placing his weight on his right leg, and crossed his arms as he looked down at me.

"Quite simple. I want you."

"You... what?" I squeaked.

"Would you consider a transfer from a GP residency into surgery?"

Of course that's what he meant. It's not like he was about to ask me for a quick shag in the supplies closet. This wasn't Grey's Anatomy, and that would certainly call for a trip to HR, and... wait. What?

"But... you didn't seem to, ah, approve of the actions in my file..." I stammered once I was able to get my mouth moving again.

"I do not. But you are a highly intelligent, creative, and passionate practitioner. The first we have an excess of, here in surgery. The second, we rather lack. And the third, as you are learning, is a double-edged sword."

"Though perhaps as your mentor I might help steer your passionate patient advocacy into more productive channels, complicit with hospital policy?"

I was sure my face was flaming hot with embarrassment at that point. But this was an incredible opportunity, even if my future was in the hands of one stupid-handsome, obnoxiously rule-following, incredibly strict but talented chief of surgery. Plus, I had the distinct feeling that he'd saved me from that trip to Human Resources...

"All right." I spoke before I could talk myself out of it. "I'll do it."

"Excellent." He reached over and closed my file with a crisp snap. "The paperwork is with Williams in Admin. I will see you at 4am tomorrow in the surgical theatre on floor 3." That was a clear dismissal. I thanked him and scooted out of the chair, in a hurry to get out of there. "Oh, and Dr. Glastonbury?" I paused and looked back, my hand almost on the door handle.

"Absolutely nobody will be calling anybody 'Doll' on my watch." Was that... a smile? His face transformed from stupid-handsome to unbelievably, inappropriately handsome.

I coughed lightly and ejected myself from the room. What was I getting into?

[chartshow88]

THIS IS JUST MY VIEW OF STUFF PLAYED ON CHART SHOW DONT TAKE IT SERRIOUS SOME OF ITS GOOD SOME OF IT BAD SOME OF IT REAL GOOD U WILL KNOW thanks to archive.org sort of full year minus one Febuary one from 19th and most of June to final episode in September JJanuarys dates are 8th 15th 22nd 29th introduction Ok chart show had specialist charts Dance Album Heavy metal and indie and a top ten on a Friday night starting with two half hour shows to start with screaming blue messiahs i wanna be Fred Finstone by the band name total cack EXCLUSIVE Yabba dabba do time with this bald you know what {bill carter} telling u its the 2nd song from there album bikini red and be in U K in February on info First ever special chart DANCE p=played n v no video 10 mau jocks and jock rmaster jock mix 1 n v 9 public enemy bring n v 8 jellybean elissia fiorillo who found who 7 sinita gto 6 wally jump jnr tighten up 5 rick astley when i fall inlove 4 jellybean jingo p rewind too 1st 3 michel jackson way u make me feel 2 krush house arrest 1 joyce sims come into p what about number 5 not even dance or RNB best song top ten jelly bean who found who number 4 is just worst one they did cos its start of song u can tell there gonna play number 4 Krush house arrest {N2} avoided like the plauge and the number one was first time it was shown not EXCLUSIVE though Info Joyce sims was discovered in a hamburger joint on her lunch break info said and for the songs coming to top ten jellybean Jingo joyce sims Krush {where already there top ten with M J} too Dance new release Gladys Knight Love over board info said she started singing at age of four in a baptist church and won a Talent contest aged 7 and with latest album the band been together for 35 years my fave from her is out 89 her bond movie theme for sure AND YOU KNOW AM GOING STRAIGHT FOR YOUR HEART LICENCE TO KILL that's I T V chart show years 1989 went off channel four end of September 88 after march 86 till September 88 on C 4 and had to come off tv 86 as music video people where not getting no moneys {the artists themselves} {nothing like I T V Roxy going off tv between 87 November to December but yeah} but the Knight song not too bad either Then a Pause in show EXCLUSIVE BANANARAMA I CANT HELP IT After Siobhan Fahey from Shakespeare sister left to have a baby they added Jacquie o Sullivan joined them {after love in the first degree left cos she was with baby Mrs Fahay} and wouldn't have a hit till 1989 august with your history with said band {Shakespeare sister} bit too much like the rest of there 1988 stuff {i want u back} and 1987's {love in the first degree} they use the same guys they black up in video too {i want u back} anyway the best of the two of 88 for me my fave one I T V chart show years with help of the 3 comedians French Saunders And Burke {Help} Listed as Lananeeneenoonoo {french and saunders where already in top ten this week with moyets song too Loveletters} and with this song captivated by your Honey and where in in Guinness book of records for most successful female group at the time taken from there album wow back to back 3 songs one artist Pretenders Stop your sobbing never heard this one before i saw this show so lets move along done by the Kinks and there debut record INFO Chrissie quit her job at N M E and sung different bands in 1974 none of them made any impact till the pretenders came along Back on the chain gang now this one I do know performed it when radio 2 did COVID concert's and at Glastonbury this year avoided Brass in pocket too Info there only number one was brass in pocket {third single and she wasn't keen on it at the time}and there debut album the pretenders was also a number one

Hymn to her my fave so sweet the words too it not played though went for Don't get me wrong out in 86 top ten few weeks info recording there fifth studio album and January 15th back to back Echo and the bunny man boo stand by for the stranglers the chart file update shinade o conner inxterrence t trent d erby fergal sharkey morris minor and the majors end of part one part two half an hour later the stranglers all day and all the night info covering the kinks of course in 1964 13 years together and there 28th consecutive hit new album called all live and all of the night released on valentines day absolute rubbish top ten next few weeks though chart file update good luck with these ones AJ they give u top tens and then play one song for 40 seconds nm non mover d down u up p played u up n new entry rock Indie album 10 nm Gaye bikers on acid all hung up d Nina Simone my baby d paul mc all the best 9 d def leopard hysteria n the smiths William n the christians self titled album 8 nm foreigner say u will n j a m m down d t pau bridge of spy's 7 d Whitesnake here i go nm Barmy army sharp n wet wet wet popped in 6 n acdc heatseaker p n cookie crew rock n fleetwood tango 5 d megadeath wake up dead d g clail reality n psb actually 4 d heart theres the girl u suger cubes Birthday d v a hits 7 3 d antrhax i'm the man d the smithes last night nm m j bad 2 nm kiss reason to live n dpeche mode behind the wheel p n rick whenever 1 u cher I found someone nmnew order touched by the hand of god n va now 10 play squeze hour glass few dance songs indie chart PN6} and the rnb Nina simone done the album chart as first one 88 new release Indie Shinade o conner MANDEKA Info from Dublin and her second single from album the lion and the cobra and shaved her hair cos the record company told her to keep it long Another star we lost too soon prob my fave song played this week here but her number one was the best {Nothing compares to you} the chart show singles chart the fastest chart on your screens 4 hours from release comes up new release Fergal sharkey new love from undertones to this band his biggest hit was a good heart and two month later start 87 you little thief sung it on a plane on tv no noise at all lol this offering not so good info recording new album for 18 months in USA and rolling stones Keith Richards plays guitar on this New release Inxs new sensation my fave inxs one is never tear us apart quite good this one though Info the band love skate boarding in america and christian hossi american board champ wanted tickets new release TTD sign your name the only time they play this one even though in top ten a lot maybe him nude top half getting beat up gang style end video or what the songs about fave song wishing well was 87 info tipped to win B P I award for best international artist top ten they 5 or ten seconds of song then rewind to one or more songs 10 d m j way you 9 d pouges fairy 8 n jellybean jingo 7 d a moyet loveletters 6 n wet angel eyes 5 u morris minor p 4 n cher found 3 n Krush house 2 d psb always 1 u belinda heaven info n 5 causing a stir in america 3 comedians been round for years absolute dog u know what should have gone n 4 n 6 or n 3 and kinda played in full just absolute dog meat Ok the number 1 after the go go's her debut single was heaven is a place on earth pretty good tune and iconic 80's for sure would go onb to be there for a while {most January too} Info video directed by Diane keaten and features morgen mason her husband son of actor James Mason the go go's had ten top ten hits in america ok it just said the chart show was 530 and 630 back in day {very nice} and to vote for your fave song in number 1 magazine all about eves cold hearted women was last one played in full next week more indie for ones that forgot on totp they where live {marthas harbour} credits and played for 2 mins brought to u by video visuals stop and eject first show done yay will post more reviews in time hope u enjoyed it if u didn't good https://archive.org/details/the-chart-show-s-3e-01-1988-01-08 theres the link

[ghostcultmagazine]

Catch up on what you missed this week in the world of Rock and Metal news with our show! #musicnews #rocknews #metalnews #interviews #newmusicfriday #vinylcollector #metalmerch #musicnews #metalnews #rocknews Thanks to @RobbZipp for turning us on to Streamyard! https://www.youtube.com/@RobbZipp We're raising money until 3/25/23 for Help Replace Ghost Cult's Broken Camera Gear. Can you help? Donate here https://ift.tt/ivgUrqa or buy us a Ko-fi https://ift.tt/3KUanWV or We now take Cashapp $ghostcultmag Liquid Death https://bit.ly/LiquidDeath Check out our weekly news show! 📰 We cover the major stories of the week in heavy music, rock, and metal news, tour dates, and festivals, New Music Friday, and more! #RIPGaryRossington, #RIPScottLivingston, Tim “Ripper” Owens, Lilith Czar, Lost Society, Kevin Rutmanis, Ghost Cult Magazine Podcast, Heavy Business Podcast, Glacially Musical reviews “Blue Album” by Baroness, Rocklahoma lineup announced, Bamboozle Fest is curious, Mammothfest 2, Glastonbury and Aftershock book Guns N Roses, Hypersp[ace Festival, the road to 70000 Tons of Metal 2024 begins, Camp Punksylvania, Furnace Fest Benefit Bash, Between The Buried and Me books “Paralax” II tour, Nita Strauss returns to Alice Cooper, Shaky Knees Late night shows announced, SmartPunks gets a SXSW showcase, Third Man Records at SXSW, Gravitoyd Heavy Music Fest, 20 Watt Tombstone, afi “Sing The Sorrow” this weekend in LA, YOB books tour dates with Cave In and Pallbearer, Black Sabbitch California tour, King’s X books first dates of 2023, Smashing Pumpkins and Jane’s Addiction down under, Unsane books Australian dates, Converge mini tour and studio update, Megadeth heads to Canada, Cradle of Filth - Devildriver - Black Satelite - Oni tour begins, The Black Dahlia Murder adds more dates, Heathen and Arrival of Autumn begins their tour, The Convalescence and Casket Robbery hit the road, Olivia Jean tour dates, Chelsea Grin and Carnifex co-headlien tour approaches, the Steve Ignorant Band plays Crass, Metallica “Obey Your Master” art in the Black Box, Tool shares rehearsal footage, Dave Lombardo solo album Wintersun drops a single, Omnium Gatherum new song and EP, Clutch live albums, RUSH “Signals” 40th anniversary boxed set, Beave and Butthead Season 2, Avenged Sevenfold (fake news) Hack, Brian Slage of Metal Blade has a new book, and in our Mailbag - Ronnie James Dio Funko POP!

[thequeereview]

Sundance 2022 Film Review: Sirens ★★★★

Sundance 2022 Film Review: Sirens ★★★★

Rita Baghdadi’s feature documentary Sirens, which world premiered at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival, is a nuanced, intimate, and upbeat portrait of the Middle East’s only all-female thrash metal band, Slave to Sirens. Although it opens with footage of protests on the streets of Beirut with chants of “revolution” and shots of graffiti with phrases like, “homophobia is a crime”, Baghdadi’s focus…

[slavghoul]

Hey! Do you have the metal hammer interview that contained the questions that the fans asked?

Sure

I got into horror movies because of Ghost. What are your favourite horror movies, and what horror movies would you recommend? @The_Moon_Thief, Twitter

“There’s two branches of horror movies for me. There’s old classic slasher films, as in Friday The 13th and stuff like that, but then you have the really good horror films, the ones made by really talented directors who primarily don’t do horror, and do other films as well. The best horror films ever made are The Shining by Stanley Kubrick, Jaws by Steven Spielberg, Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola, The Exorcist, The Omen. But then, you have classic cult directors. Lucio Fulci was an Italian director who made a lot of films that are entertaining. The House By The Cemetery is a classic one by him. The horror genre is hurt by the fact you have these really heavy-hitters who come in and do these fantastic films, and then unfortunately a lot of the genre is a swamp of really bad films.”

Would you ever play Glastonbury or other ‘mainstream’ festivals? Carly Daly, email

“We have played a lot of festivals like Pukkelpop, Rock En Seine, Roskilde - a lot of festivals where we are one of the few ‘metal bands’ but the headliner can be Bjork, Primal Scream and Drake. We played Coachella and Lollapalooza, lots of festivals like that… except for Glastonbury.”

Hammer: Is Glasto on your bucket list? “It would be cool of course, but it’s never really been one of my most important ones, so no. I don’t know if this is the same for Glastonbury, this is my interpretation, but at Coachella, if you’re on the bill, you don’t have to play because no one will watch you anyway. Everyone is there for the big hip hop headliner. When we played Coachella, we went to see Dead Can Dance there and it was a few people in a tent. For fucking Dead Can Dance. Are you kidding me?! That’s why I’m just not generally all for those big pop festivals. I would miss a lot of the camaraderie. If you go to Graspop or Download, you go in there you know everyone, so many people. Whereas if you go to a big pop festival or mixed festival, everyone is in their own little universe.”

Hammer: There are rumours you’re playing Glasto this year - is there anything in those rumours?

“No. Not now at least. That’s more than I know. I might live to regret what I just said!”

How much does writing new music go hand in hand with curating the new designs/'look’ for new eras? @haxbourne, Twitter “They go partly together. It’s always in the front of my head how a song will fit into the show or if there’s anything we can do to turn it into what we call a ‘gag’. Gag songs tend to work better in the sets, so I always have a monocle on for that. For some people who are wondering why we’re not doing songs off the new album already, it’s because there might be a planned gag for them that we haven’t been able to present yet.”

How do you feel knowing that many of your LGBT fans like to personally interpret/depict your characters as gay and/or trans? @sanguinevampyr, Twitter “Good. Great. If they find solace or inspiration in what we’re doing, I’m really happy about that."

Have you ever done a sick in one of your masks onstage, either from a hangover or the smell? Erin Smith, email “Once on a South American tour, we had a really bad flu going on with the band and crew. It was absolutely fucking horrible. Day after day, someone new fell apart and people were lying backstage in the foetal position with a cork in the front and a cork in the back, purging. That was not cool.”

What’s your favourite Abba song? @Dorkus666, Twitter “Right now, I Have A Dream. It involves three chords, and the third chord comes in at such a brilliant moment at the third section of the song. The first two sections are the same two chords, back and forth. Then all of a sudden, the third chord comes in and… they should be getting a Nobel Music prize for that one because it’s so fucking brilliant.”

Back when nobody knew who was behind the mask, what was your favourite rumour that you heard about yourself? Trent Carvalho, email “That I was tall! Especially in the Papa Emeritus attire. In the beginning in underground circles it was a fairly known fact that I was in the band, so I never felt 100% anonymous in the early days.”

Who is your favourite Ghost - fictional or otherwise? Bradley Stratton, Facebook “I’ve always been fascinated with the concept of ghosts in Star Wars. They appear as apparitions that can converse with you. If the Star Wars saga had been written a few hundred years ago, it would have been a religion, it has all the cornerstones of a religion and the idea of the elders and your teachers coming back to teach you from behind the grave is presented really well.”

If you had to wipe one of the following bands from history, which would it be: Iron Maiden, Kiss, Misfits? William Hawks, email “If I had to wipe them out? Oh, that’s a hard one. It’s an easy question, but the answer is hard; I have to be pragmatic. I’m a humongous fan of all three bands. The one band I’d choose to wipe out, and that’s not a diss, what they did was so great, is Misfits. My control freakishness and my managerial inclinations would love to go back in time and correct a few things they did wrong. Not aesthetically, but business-wise. I would have wished for them to have a better career. I’d love to go back and curate their career because the career of Misfits, Samhain and Danzig put together would have been marvellous.”

What is metal missing in 2022? Danielle Bull, email “It would be cool if there were newer, young bands regarded as more than a novelty, or an underground treasure. More organic rock bands of 20-year- olds recognised on a little bit more of a… I hate to say mainstream, but above the pub level. I’m all about underground, I come from the underground, and I worship the underground music, but for the resurgence of rock, we need that. I’d love if there were more bands that went through a similar recognition [channel] to Maneskin, actually. I think they’re really cool. They won Eurovision because they’re great, but they’re one of the few exceptions of it not being the end of their career. That’s usually what happens if you’re a band.”

Hammer: Have you ever considered Eurovision or been asked to do it? “No, not really, but I wouldn’t want to do it because as I said, it’s usually the end of your career. If you already have an established career, then don’t do it. Although Maneskin proved it could be done. I hope there’s a lot of 14-year-olds out there in Europe and the world who see that as an inspiration and start playing drums, bass and guitar.”

What weird shit do you collect? Robbie Gregg, email “I collect demo tapes. Old death metal demo tapes from the mid-8os to 1992. Black metal. Death metal. Thrash metal. Underground music. If anyone reading this who sits on shit like that… and if you are owners of original stuff that you got directly from the band… please call me!”

Would you ever have a female lead singer? @elyssami8, Twitter “Why not? That could happen. Sister Emeritus!”

If you could pick one metal song that changed your life, what would it be? James Persens, email “I Wanna Rock by Twisted Sister. That is probably the earliest song that I remember being able to sing and rock out to. That came out in 1984 and I was three years old at the time. I was lucky enough to have an older brother and in 1984 he was 16. A lot of who I am, why I am who I am, and my interests, is because of him. That’s my first memory of me thinking, ‘This is who I am.’”

[moonlight-rider25]

Firewood

{Part of the Eadith’s Lady series}

Word count: 4875

Warnings: PG, fluff, angst

It's Day Two of four, making your way to Exeter. You've stopped for the evening to make camp, eat, rest and continue on in the morning. You and Eadith are searching the woods for fungi while the men are around the fire cooking tonight's meal.

"He hasn't spoken a word to me since leaving Glastonbury" you regretfully inform Eadith.

"You don't think that has anything to do with…what happened in the stables do you?" She asks hopefully.

"Oh I'm quite sure that's the exact reason…" you reply with a heavy sigh.

"Well, sooner or later he's going to have to speak to you whether he likes it or not," She tells you confidently.

Her words dance through your mind as you wander in the forest searching trees for the white spongy fungi used most commonly for stopping bleeding in your patients.  The sunlight is beginning to fade through the trees and you slowly make your way back to the popping sounds of the fire and hearty laughter of men before it gets too dark. Satchels in hand you and Eadith safely pack your newly found supplies into your treatment bags and head back out towards the fire to eat.  

Yours and Eadith’s conversation is heavy on your mind, you're eager to break the awkward silence between yourself and Uhtred. You carefully plant yourself down closest to Uhtred but try your best to avoid eye contact while you all sit quietly in the fading light eating the half burnt meat.

"Who cooked this?" Eadith asks, peering around the group.

"Well…we all..." Osferth gently begins explaining.

"It was Sihtric." Blurts Finan unapologetically. "Sihtric burnt dinner. Blame him!" He booms 

"Ayeh," Sihtrich protests, tossing a small stone towards Finans feet. "I told you it was done. But you insisted the middle would be too raw!" He mockingly imitates Finan.

The group roars with laughter, Eadith extends her plate out to the two playfully bickering.

"You see, you're not supposed to set the meal ON fire, just cook it around the fire!" She dramatically instructs them. You giggle at the sight and are very glad to see the rest of the group's dynamic hasn't changed. 

Still, you can feel the tension between you and Uhtred just a foot away and it stings your guts more than you wish it would. You rack your mind trying to think of an excuse to speak to him but fail to find any that seem legitimate. This had always been precisely the very reason you knew better than to ever let your feelings for Uhtred become of anything. Changing the ‘so carefully balanced’ tension in the group is a dangerous thing to do, especially seeing as none of you have any way of being able to be left alone or wander away…all part of life traveling the road.

You chew thoughtfully still trying to come up with a reason to speak to him, to even look at him, to peer back into those blue eyes that once made all the worries and fears melt away from your mind. You quickly realize you are both without ale. 

Why is this so dreadfully hard now? You think to yourself. Two days ago I had no problem sitting with him and starting a conversation or even holding one with him…now it's like he's a stranger to me, and I to him.. 

You exhale heavily and rise to your feet stepping carefully around the fire to fetch cups and the corked bottle of ale. You make note of anyone else not having a cup but see only Uhtred and yourself remain drinkless. 

You re-approach your seat with two metal cups in hand and sit carefully back down in your spot between Uhtred and Eadith. You place your cup on the ground by your feet and oh so bravely extend your other hand towards Uhtred without saying a word. 

The seconds feel like hours as he ever so slowly turns his face to you to accept the drink. His blue eyes sparkle as they always have but your heart skips a beat more than usual when they meet yours. 

You watch carefully trying to read him and finally, your stomach settles back into place when his fingertips lightly touch yours, and a small smirk appears across his face. You feel your whole body relax and calm back to normal almost instantly seeing the man look at you the same way he always had. You smile warmly back at him and he takes the cup; and even though no words have yet to be exchanged, you feel an incredible sense of relief as you finish eating your burnt meal in silence.

*************

You lay awake in your spot in yours and Eadith's tent hearing her lightly mumble to herself in her sleep. You toss and turn, trying to get comfortable and settle but it's no use. Every time you close your eyes all you can see is his brilliant blue eyes peering back inches away from your face. You finally give up and reach for your treatment bag; pulling the small satchel of chamomile out and grabbing a few of the flowers from it. You wrap a fur loosely around your body and stumble your way to the fireplace to make some tea to help settle your mind. Not two steps out from the structure's flap when you hear a rustling coming from beside you. You drop the flowers and stand peering into the darkness, unready to face a wild animal ready to attack. 

"Y/N" you hear whispered. 

It’s so quiet but you already know who it is.

"Damn it, Uhtred!" You gasp quietly. 

He chuckles softly moving closer to you. 

"You made me drop my chamomile!" You whisper frantically.

He approaches you still laughing quietly and you stand upright before him pouting for losing your tea contents.

"I guess you'll just have to have some ale instead" He teases quietly.

You see his brilliant smile illuminated in the fire's light and the way his eyes sparkle so brightly as he looks at you. You follow him over and sit down beside him by the fire. He pours you a cup from the corked bottle. You take a small sip and wince slightly remembering all too fondly the headache that came with too much wine just nights ago.

"Take this," you say, handing the cup back to him with a grimace. "Too soon." 

A soft low laugh rumbles from him as he takes the cup back and pours its contents into his own.  He takes a long deliberate swig from his cup before letting out a small relieving 'ahhh'.  You turn and giggle quietly watching him. His smile genuine as ever makes all the fret and worry melt right off of you. He sets the cup down and claps his hands around his bent knees looking intently towards the fire.

"I thought you…I didn't know when you'd speak to me again.." He stutters slowly.

You freeze dramatically and turn to him, giving him a puzzled look.  He only meets your eyes and allows a smooth charming smile to consume your vision as it grows across his face. He hums quietly laughing at you in response.

You turn your head away from him trying not to show him the smirk growing on your lips.  He stirs slightly, rubbing his hands together before clasping them again around his bent knees, inching ever so slightly closer to you.  You feel his warm smooth skin against your bare thighs now. You wrap the fur around your shoulders closer to your body and cautiously turn your gaze back to him.

He meets your look and his smile begins to fade.

"I realize I shouldn't have overstepped as I did." He says almost in a whisper.

His face is grossly serious now, and you desperately wish the cunning smile would return that was there just moments ago. He stirs slightly again, unhooking his hands but this time you slip yours softly in-between his chiseled torso and arm, allowing your hand to sit gently beside his own big calloused palm. 

His gaze still set on the fire before him, he begins gently rubbing his coarse thumb against your soft hand in his. Finally, he lifts his eyes and meets your gaze, still serious as before and your heart drops out of your chest into your stomach unsure if you're ready to hear what will come next.

To your surprise, he remains silent and instead greets you with the smile you prayed for. You smile back, and allow a moment of peace to occur while gazing romantically into his blue eyes glowing fiercely by the fire's light. You turn your gaze slightly to the ground and lean in cautiously to rest your forehead gently against his shoulder.  He remains still as you do and releases a deep breath.  You close your eyes tightly wishing you could hold back the words that are dancing on your tongue.

“Uhtred..” You begin quietly, still squinting your eyes tightly shut. 

He remains still with you leaning against him only replying with a low grumble.

“...You didn’t...” Is all you allow yourself to utter.

You take a sharp breath in before allowing yourself to peek from behind your squinted eyes. Uhtred is staring at you with a devilish grin across his face. You shake your head desperately to try and get his sultry gaze off you. You glance back at his face and his devilish look still sits firmly upon you. You feel your chest begin to tighten as you take a deep breath and your stomach begins to knot up as you decide to allow yourself to stare back. His deep glimmering blue eyes staring hungrily down upon you. The same way he looked at you the other night too, but this time your judgment isn’t clouded with alcohol.

He gives your hand a slight squeeze before finally breaking the gaze and looking down to your hands intertwined. 

“Oh I didn’t?” he asks with a small laugh. 

You feel your face begin to burn and your cheeks turn red.  You squirm in your seat losing your grip in his hand. You take another deep breath and press yourself back against him, locking your fingers around his hand as you do. You peer backup at him and swallow hard. Your mouth opens ajar but no worlds come out. Uhtred chuckles, before leaning his head down closer to you and presses his forehead softly against yours. 

“..You sure?..” he asks in such a soft whisper you can barely hear him.

This time the words are ready to climb out of your mouth for you.  You lick your lips and swallow hard, readying yourself for whatever is to come next. You squeeze his huge broad hand between your two soft little hands and lean gently closer into him. 

“..Yes.” 

He smiles for a long moment. Then, to your disappointment, he cranes his head away from you leaving you sitting in awe leaning against him. He pulls away from you to straighten the fur around your tighter before grabbing at his ale cup and swallowing the rest of the remains. When he settles back in his spot, you lean your head over and lay it gently against his huge shoulder. You both sit in silence watching the fire dance and pop and snap in front of you.

*******************

You awake the next morning with the events of last night dancing in your mind as you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

“Morning!” Exclaims Eadith entering your makeshift tent.

You smile and turn your head towards her.

“You slept in a bit, the men are ready to get a move on.” 

She gathers the last of her sleep belongings and heads back off towards the entrance flap of the tent where the men are busy bustling to start the day's journey.

You dress and fold up your own furs and blankets, then make your way out to the others readying their horses. The bright morning sun blinds you momentarily and you trip lightly over a large root sticking out of the ground.

“So graceful, this one!” Finan chuckles to Sihtric.

You feel your cheeks turn a shade of red and cast a playful glare at the two.

“Ha, ha!” You cry out hauling your belongings up over your horse before fastening them down. 

You spin around to continue, when you spot Uhtred waltzing up towards you.  His eyes glimmering set firmly on you along with a charming smirk edging along the corners of his mouth. You watch him with lustful eyes as he takes long slow steps closer. You’re sure if Finan and Sihtric were to look at you right now they would see your heart fluttering out of your chest. 

He finally stops before the two men and turns his attention to them, explaining the days travel plan. You exhale your breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, and watch as the smirk disappears from his mouth. You jump suddenly when you feel the firm grip of Eadith’s hand on your arm.

“Dear, I’m sorry!” She says with a giggle, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“No, you’re quite alright.” You say with a chuckle, hand still clutching your chest.

She smiles and peers over your shoulder spotting Uhtred addressing the others.

“Ahh, I see.” She says with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes slightly and smile back at her.

“Well don’t allow yourself to get too distracted while riding.” She teases patting you gently on the shoulder. 

You both mount your horses and sit with them stirring beneath you waiting for the men to take the lead.  Even through the thick canopy of branches and leaves in the forest, the morning sky looks clear and bright. You slap the reins and all trail off after Uhtred in front and can’t help but linger watching him bounce slightly in his saddle as you all follow behind.

Yes, don’t get distracted.. You think to yourself.

*****************

You pace on, late into the day and the skys sun has left you all sweaty and miserable. Eadith has hung back with you most of the day, as you both usually do.

“Here..” she tells you, handing you a canteen of water.

Her caring heart never rests for mending others. You smile at her and take a few small sips and thank her before handing it back.

“So..” she begins coyly. “Any new stories to share between you and your lover boy there?” 

She snickers before taking a sip of her own from the water.

“Eadith!” you shriek. 

“What?!” She replies with a giggle. 

“You know it's not like that…” You tell her plainly.

“Oh, please! I don’t know why you both pretend to be so.. So..” 

“Cautious, responsible, level headed” You ask with a snicker.

“Ignorant!” Eadith blurts out before taking another sip. “It's so obvious you both like each other..”

You cast her a look of pure shock and cut her off.

“We do not!” You shout louder than you probably should have, “Uhtred does not like me…not in that way..he couldn’t, he…” You tell her quieter this time.

Eadith sits shaking her head with a thick smile across her face. 

“Alright, alright fine!” She says surly, looking forward towards the men. “Keep living in denial my dear.”

You turn your attention to the men in front along with her. Rolling the coil of reins through your hands pondering the idea of anything ever happening between Uhtred and yourself. 

“..Even if he did..” You continue calmly. “He’s..Uhtred… he wouldn't make anything of it..”

“Well…Only one way to find out!” Eadith snickers and smacks her reins jolting off ahead to catch up with the other. 

Damn you, You mumble to yourself before following after her.

The late day hours pass to night, as you have all stopped to make camp for the evening. After dinner you all have gathered around the fire and taken a few moments to relax from the long days of traveling. Eadith sits across the fire from you giggling madly next to Osferth and Finan.  Her and Finan seem to be heavy in conversation. She casts a few devilish glances and gestures to her ale cup which sends a little shiver down your spine as you smile and politely shake your head ‘no’. 

Osferth, Sihtric, and Uhtred are deep in their own conversation as you reach down and try to add some more little twigs nearby to the dying fire. You stand to grab a few larger branches laying close by to keep the fire lit.  You toss the dry sticks upon the fire and catch Uhtred watching you intently from between Osferth and Sihtric.  You do your best to avoid his gaze and bite back the small smirk on your lips, as his eyes heavy with ale stay studied on you through the smoke drifting up from the fire pit. 

You turn to Eadith to avoid Uhtred's eyes set so carefully on you, nerves starting to send shivers bouncing around in your stomach.

“Eadith?” You ask her politely, trying not to distract the other men from their conversations. “Would you be a dear and come with me to go fetch some more firewood for the night?”

She turns her head towards you, away from Finan and nods while taking another long swig of ale. Osferth turns his attention to the two of you and stands from his seat. 

“Shall I accompany you two?” Osfterth asks sheepishly. “..It is dark..” He continues before you and Eadith have answered him. 

You shake your heads in agreement before allowing the baby monk to convince you any further. The fair man; more than not volunteers or is voluntold, to accompany you and Eadith on silly tasks the others seem to not want to partake in. Such as collecting firewood. His infatuation with Eadith is probably the main reason he doesn't put up a fight in joining the two of you, and you all have created a little pack of understanding amongst yourselves from your time spent together on these treks. 

“Thank you, Osferth.” You tell him.

Osferth smiles as you take Eadith firmly by the arm and begin departing into the forest away from the others' ears. You're a few yards away from Osferth when you begin whispering to Eadith.

“You better not be stirring the pot!” You warn her.

“I’m not!” She cries out with a smile.

You let out a small sigh of relief before looking over your shoulder and watching Osferth stumble through the trees behind you.

“I was simply making conversation…that's all!” Eadith says softly.

“Oh, I’m sure!” you say with a cackle. “Eadith the meddling partakes in casual conversations!” You shout as you crouch down filling your arms with firewood. 

Eadith laughs along with you, ale thick on her breath.  She kneels down a few feet away and begins pulling loose sticks from the bushes when Osferth stumbles towards the two of you. 

“Ahh, there you are!” Osferth says stepping through the brush.

The moon is the only light you have, shining down through the thick forest canopy above. Osferth begins to wander behind Eadith with staggered steps. You listen to his rustling in the bushes as he walks further and further away from the two of you. Yours and Eadith's arms are getting full with big thick branches and you both begin to slowly make your way back towards the fire. 

“Osferth!” Eadith calls out. “I believe we have enough, come along now!”

You two keep grabbing what useful branches are in reach, listening to the branches snap and leaves rustle behind, while Osferth treks deeping into the woods.

“I’ve got some!” You hear his voice stream from behind with excitement. 

You and Eadith giggle amongst each other waiting to see the baby monk reappear from the nearby trees. 

“..Need a hand?” Eadith calls out after waiting a moment for him to appear.

“...Almost…nearly got it…” You hear him grunt.

You both straighten up and begin walking back when you hear a large snap from a branch and a shout from the direction Osferth is in.  Even in the dim light, you can see the fear pasted across Eadith’s face when your eyes meet. You both immediately drop the bundles of sticks in your arms and rush over to the cry of Osferth. 

You both hear a loud smack of something falling into rushing water below.

“OSFERTH!” You cry out as you and Eadith both stumble before the banks edge. 

You hear nothing in reply and the fear begins building deeper inside you. Without notice, Eadith leaps off the edge down into the cold rushing water below. 

“Eadith!” You cry.

You quickly realize there is little you yourself can do and turn running back towards the fire to fetch the others. 

Eadiths point of view

You hold your breath and brace yourself for the plunge into the cold water below. You break through the surface and the water engulfs your body like an iron suit. You burst through the surface gasping for air and begin frantically calling out for Osferth.  The moon light shines down against the water's shimmering surface and you tread against the rushing waves searching for a body like figure. You spot a dark shadow and take a deep breath before diving back down beneath the water towards it. 

Your hands find his waist and you and swim desperately towards the waters edge pulling him slowly along with you. You pull him out and put your ear to his chest. You sit him up and begin pounding furiously against his back, the water cascading down your face. 

“Osferth!” You cry. “Come on, wake up!” 

You pound again and squeeze against his stomach trying to force the water in his lungs up and out.

“Damn it, Osferth!” 

You compres his chest as much as you can till he begins to sputter and spit water from his mouth. You roll him to his side and pound against his back more. He gags and chokes as it breaks free finally. You sit him up and he goes limp against you. 

“Osferth! Wake up!” You cry holding his face.

Your hand feels a warm mushy spot in his hairline.  You realize quickly he has a massive head injury bleeding out under your fingertips. You rip your dress up the side and tear off a piece of fabric to wrap around his head before you hear the splashes of the men coming to help from the other side of the bank. 

“Over here!” You cry out desperately before seeing the shadows of the men approaching from the water. “He’s breathing, but unconscious!” You tell them in a concerned shrill voice. 

They gather him up and begin to make their way back towards camp. You and (Y,N) follow the men close behind watching as they carry the limpless body of baby monk. 

Late into the night, you sit awake by Osferth covered in a mound of blankets inside the small makeshift tent.  Your body still cold and wet from the water hours before, you hold his hand stroking the back of it gently watching his face ever so closely to see any movement. His head wound has been cleaned and rewrapped in a new bangade. You assume it came from a rock that he hit on the way down. His breathing is labored and wheezy but his chest moves slowly up and down regardless. 

(Y,N) comes in from the fire and sits down next to you, but you don’t break your gaze from Osferth.

“Still out?” (Y,N) asks quietly.

You sigh and shake your head oh so slightly, keeping your eyes fixated on his chest rising and falling.  She pats you gently on the back and sets a warm cup of tea down beside you.

“I’ll fetch him some more warm furs.” (Y,N) says before parting back out from the tent flap. 

You stare at him intently, wishing and praying to see any little movement or twitch on the baby monk. You squeeze his hand slightly as a tear begins to trail down your cheek. You sniffle and wipe it away still watching his lifeless body lay before you. 

(Y,N) reappears again and hands you another heavy fur to keep him warm with. You wrap it gently around him as a few more tears trickle down your face. Trying to keep your face away from view of (Y,N), you stand with your back to her, reaching down for the tea she left before. You bring the cup to your lips, but a cord breaks loose within you before it meets your mouth.  

You throw the cup across the room and clutch your face as the sobs begin to spill from your mouth. (Y,N) rushes over and gently captures you in a warm hug. Your body shakes and you allow the sobs to drain from your lungs as you clutch her tightly.  

“What are we going to do if we lose him?” You wail between sobs against her.

She gently strokes your back and shushes you, trying to calm you as you have done for her in many cases similar to this. 

“We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that won't happen.” She says calmly against you, still stroking your back reassuringly. 

You let out a heavy sigh and break from her to wipe the wetness from your face. 

“Why don’t you sit out by the fire…try and get some sleep?” She tells you softly. 

You shake your head, still wiping at your face.

“I won't be able to rest till I know he's alright.” You tell her.

You sit back down by him, taking his hand in yours and resume running your thumb over his soft fair hand again. His chest; still rising and falling steadily, but no other movement from him beyond that.

“...Osferth.” You whisper leaning closer. “...Please…I can't bear to think of life out here without you..” 

The soft tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes again and slip down your cheeks.  You hear (Y,N) slip back out the tent flaps.

“We need you Osferth..” You whisper “..I need you..”

The tears drip from your chin onto the furs below. You blink your eyes closed harshly and let out breath and hang your head down towards your hands grasped around his. Your fingers stop stroking against his knuckles, you feel a slight squeeze against yours and snap your head up.

“Osferth?!” you gasp quietly.

His hand again squeezes your hand back softly. His chest begins to rise and fall at a new faster pace and you lean in towards him, seeing the light flicker of his eyes beneath his eyelids. 

He stirs slightly then begins to cough and choke the remaining water from his lungs. Your chest tightens watching in awe as the signs of life return to his body. You swallow hard watching him stirring under the furs. Finally, his eyes pop open.  You choke back a gasp when you see the blue flash beneath his eyelids and you lean in gently and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Osferth!” you cry muffled against him. 

He groans and tries to sit up against you. You pull away gently and look him over to ensure the sureful Osferth eyes are gleaming back at you just as they always did before. He smiles and reaches up towards your face with his hand. Without hesitation he pulls you firmly against his mouth; setting a long hungry kiss firmly against yours. Your heart skips a beat as you suck in a sharp breath against him. His thin little lips are so fair and soft against yours. He holds you in place against him for a long moment unwilling to break the connection between you two. 

He groans against you as you pull away gently from him and his eyes grow sour watching you inch away from his face.  He protests and grips your hand in his as you back away.

“...Could I…” he croaks through a broken soft voice. “..Do that again?”

You sit and watch him eagerly await your response, a sly little smirk appears on your face before you lean back in against him and he captures your lips with his. This time; rougher and harder than before. Eager to pry your lips apart and search the crevices of your mouth.  You gasp and pull away. He sits staring back in your eyes with a smirk of his own on his face now. 

“Too much?” he asks with a slight grin.

You giggle to yourself and help him sit up comfortably in bed. He smiles and thanks you before finally letting go of your hand. 

“You rest now.” you tell him warmly pulling the furs back up over him.

He settles down again beneath the thick layers and relaxes against the propped up pillow watching you with a warm smile on his face.  

You rush to the fire where Sihtric and Finan are asleep on the ground, Uhtred and (Y,N) are barely awake snuggled up next to each other by the fire.

“Hes awake!” You exclaim.

[maccasmccartney]

Shameless post about Paul at Glastonbury and how great he is incoming!…

I want to start off by echoing what has been said by the vast majority of us who cannot believe the immense performance that Paul can do at his age. It has to be said because it just isn’t normally done, it feels almost superhuman, and to me, he is.

I was extremely lucky to be in the crowd on Saturday at Glastonbury, wishing I didn’t have a bladder and not being able to feel my legs after standing for 4 hours waiting for his set to start. But it’s Paul, and I would never pee again if it meant I could be at the front, waiting for him to perform.

I was right at the front and we were all jammed in together, literally couldn’t move. A small part of me was scared of the reception he would receive, because last time Paul’s voice was televised was the olympics/golden jubilee, and it was slated. But I was proved totally wrong when Paul started singing. His voice sounded stronger than it had been in a while, and the crowd were so warm and welcoming straight away, the words to ‘can’t buy me love’ just flowing from everyone’s lips as though they were engrained in their hearts. I knew then, the crowd was right there with him, and this would be a special night.

And this is a crowd of mixed ages but predominantly young people, who wouldn’t know some of the wings or solo stuff, but they were grooving right along with the rest of us, and that made me happy they were so respectful of Paul.

There was some surprises in the set list, ‘Juniors Farm’ being one of them that I freaked out when he started playing. One song I never expected to hear live was ’Spite of all the Danger’. At that moment I felt this was something monumental, the staggering history of these songs, Paul and The Beatles’ journey. It was a feeling that was part nostalgia, part keening loss of George and John and the passage of time.

It was also one of the most unexpectedly emotional of Paul’s gigs. When Paul played ’Here Today’ you could hear a pin drop as everyone drank every word Paul was singing, almost as though noise would severe the connection Paul was having with John at that moment. Same thing with ‘I got a feeling’ with John’s voice. When Paul said ‘“It’s like we’re back together again.”’ I was moved but also surprised at his emotional bluntness. Paul was never anyone to let his emotions show, but I can see that has changed now, which is lovely to see.

Let me tell you, I’ve never heard ’Get Back’ and ’Live and Let Die’ played to such an enthusiastic crowd, rocking out to ’Helter Skelter’ like they were at a heavy metal concert, this a song from nearly 50 years ago! It really makes the songs, and for nearly 3 hours, I could not keep the grin from my face.

I started my morning shift on Glastonbury farm after 3 hours sleep, a bounce in my step despite it being 5.30 in the morning. The sun was shining and everyone I spoke to that day were telling me how great Paul had been. I do feel like I’m protective of Paul, which is silly because his legacy is already cemented. But I feel a surge of pride regardless, his performance was a triumph, hailed as maybe the greatest performance ever. Perhaps it is because I feel he only ever deserves love, well he got it from me and thousands of others that night.

[haimsource]

"Teenage activist Greta Thunberg's climate emergency speech may have been serious and timely, but in festival parlance it was a total bummer, man. Fortunately Haim ran straight onto the Pyramid stage in her wake, launching into a riotously joyous set of blissfully harmonised, swaggeringly groovy pop rock to lift the festival's collective spirits. It's the end of the world as we know it … but, hey, let's get the party started. 

Bringing the sunshine vibes all the way from LA, the trio of Haim sisters have become real Glastonbury favourites, and this uplifting, exciting, exuberant set demonstrated exactly why. Identically dressed in bikinis and faux-leather flares, they shared lead vocals and swapped instruments with a spirit of playful glee that was a delight to witness. No matter how big the crowd (and this was a big one), Haim genuinely look like they might be having more fun than the audience. 

Bassist Este (the eldest sister) gurns so furiously as she plays that she looks like she might be trying to manipulate the sound with her teeth. Lead guitarist, occasional drummer and middle sister Danielle plays with the full-body power of a heavy metal axe hero, but somehow fits this hard rock instinct into deeply groovy pop songs that sound like what you might get if you crossed Fleetwood Mac with the Sugababes. Meanwhile youngest sibling, multi-instrumentalist keyboard, guitar and percussion player Alanna fills in all the spaces in the sound whilst occupying stage space as if she was the star of the show. 

It's rare to get a band with three such strong front persons without obvious tensions and ego clashes, but somehow this sisterhood manage to balance the spotlight and present a truly united front. The way they swap lead vocals is a total delight, picking up each others' lines, crisscrossing and harmonising. It surely helps that they've got such elastic, melodic songs to play with. My only quibble with Haim is that they rock so much harder live than they do on record. They have got this far by crafting very artful modern pop with old-school harmonic flavours, but one of these days I'd really like to hear them let loose in the studio and turn the dial up to 11. 

It is hard to argue with their progress though. Almost ten years ago, in 2013, I saw Haim make their Glastonbury debut and described them as future headliners. I stand by that. It's taken a decade to climb up to third on the Saturday night Pyramid stage bill, but they still look and sound like a band on a mission. Haim rock. And they are going to rock all the way to the top spot... as long as the world doesn't come to an end first" - Neil McCormick's review of HAIM's 2022 Glastonbury set

[arthur-rex]

thelegendofemrys + modern!arthur

@thelegendofemrys​

You’d have thought they were the headliners at Glastonbury, not just the supporting act. After they left the Pyramid stage, buzzing with adrenaline and excitement from the roar of the crowds, Arthur and his bandmates congratulated themselves with many drinks and bragging rights in the after-party. Drugs were available to the assembled musicians, but none of the knights felt the need to take what was being passed around. Percival had those needs catered for in any case, should the desire arise.

It was during this interlude that Arthur first became aware of eyes upon them. The tug of his subconscious directed him to where the bystander stood; scruffy dark hair, plaid shirt and worn jeans leaning against the private bar. They barely made eye contact, but Arthur knew that face. He had seen it before; in the wild slipstream of lost, fragmented memories that often troubled him. The visions were growing in intensity, like the culmination of a series of recreational drug experiences gone wrong. This was getting out of hand. Arthur was not sure how much longer he could continue to hide his hallucinations from his friends.

And then the stranger abruptly walked off.

Arthur didn’t see the man again until several days later, while he was helping pack his equipment back onto the tour bus. Morgana said that the overnight success of their performance at Glastonbury had led to multiple bookings being made at various European venues. They were about to embark on their first proper international tour. New additional staff were needed to help move the luggage around, although Arthur was never one to let just anybody touch his guitars. 

Heaving a series of his own personal loudspeakers into the waiting boot of the bus, Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the dark-haired man helping him lift the heavy equipment from the other side.

“You!” He almost drops the heavy equipment on the other man’s foot. Readjusting his grip on the metal edges, the pair eventually haul the loudspeaker over the rim of the boot. “I mean... sorry about that. Thank you.” 

Arthur frowns; the words don’t seem quite right. A moment of silence descends as the pair appear to eye the other one up. Arthur knows he shouldn’t be staring. The other man is going to think him incredibly weird at this rate.

“So I guess you’re one of the new hands Morgana’s employed to help us during the tour?” Arthur sucks his teeth, mulling things over. “I heard Elyan say that one of the recruited technicians was an old friend of Gwen’s. That she knew them from college.”

Perhaps that’s why Arthur can’t seem to get the image of his face out of his head. It’s quite possible he has seen this man before, years ago, when the Knights of Albion used to play in each other’s homes and garages. Elyan had hosted them once with his younger sister. 

Nodding slightly, he moves to shake the other man’s hand. “My name’s Arthur. Although I suppose, you knew that already.”

[exactlyenoughglitter]

Glastonbury

Pairings: Avallac’h/Ciri/Eredin Warnings: NSFW, elves, reality manipulation + unreliable narrator AO3 Link

The bells are ringing.

‘Galahad?’

Sometime in the night, the rain had stopped. Instead, a thick white fog had rolled out across the marshland. In such fog sounds travel far.

Where am I? the girl wonders. Everywhere. Nowhere.

Ciri treads along the soggy ground, unable to find her way either to the Roman road or the chapel. For there must be a chapel at Glastonbury – a chapel, where they toll the bells at dawn, midday, and sundown.

Why would anyone toll the bells at night?

Somewhere high above a wolf moon hangs above the marshes – glowing eerie red.

‘Galahad?’

She bounds against the echo of her own voice. The witcher-girl leans against a crooked tree, her warm breath melding with the fog. It is damp. The darkness rustles – everywhere, nowhere. There is a strange smell in the air... something putrefying and sickly sweet, or...

 ... apple blossoms?

She blinks.

Water touches her boots. Mist rises above the lake.

Faintly, Ciri mouths names; they belong to those she has given away to the cold, wet fog – a fog beyond which there is nothing more.

In the eldritch glow of the moon the mist swirls, milky white, like in a witch’s cauldron. She looks around for a boat. There is no boat. No unicorn. There is only the mist and the bells. And she cannot find the way.

Morgana said it depends on who seeks what the mists show. As man sees reality thus it becomes.

Looking down, the girl gasps.

The restless lake water slides underneath her boots like a fine dance floor. Her entire form freezes in incomprehension before a niggling thought occurs to her: people in this world say that fairies can walk on water. Fairies and unicorns. Finally forcing her foot to move, despite a quaint sense of foreboding that overcomes her, Ciri exhales like she has held her breath for an eternity; the dark swirling ground under her feet holds. It holds! With that, however, a tremendous gushing resounds in her ears and she realises that the lake water is pushing further in-land; the marshlands here flood periodically.

 ‘Ciri?’

It echoes in her mind quietly but clearly – like the ringing of icicles.

Through the mists, across the waters, the witcher-girl runs in the night until the echo of bells becomes more distinct and the putrid-sweet smell of apple blossoms strengthens. Until mussel shells crunch under her feet, until she finds herself on an alley of trees that are closing in on the entrance of the chapel under a bright red moon. Her mind though, is made up.

With the name of the knight on her lips and the images of the witcher and the sorceress in her head, she draws her sword. And bare hazel and alder branches crackle mournfully, giving way under her blade. Their remains rip at her clothes, but she cares not. She notices naught and can say naught, for her lungs are full of the smell of rot and the lake water clings to her footsteps like a smelly, dark ooze.

Yet in the mists, across the threshold to somewhere, Ciri’s voice dies a white death in her throat.

In the cold stone chapel under the Spiral Hill of Ynys Gwydrin, a knight lies in his soft white cloak, his skin snow white and his lips bright red as summer apples. You would think a kiss might wake him, but the ashen-haired girl knows it does not. She knows. She knows too that his lips taste of wine and not the blood of Christ, but it does not matter.

They stay like this before the altar while the bells ring in the fog – somewhere, everywhere, nowhere.

It’s because of that cup! It’s that stupid Grail, this stupid land and these stupid priests, and these stupid people who believe them. There is no justice, no salvation, and no grace given in the universe!

‘For once you understand, little butterfly.’

The soft, lambent hair on the back of her neck can barely rise, touched as if by the breath of a ghoul, before strong fingers crawl across her scalp and her scream pierces the air under stone-vaulted ceilings. He steps unceremoniously across the corpse of the knight, pushing her stooping form in front of him into the bright shaft of moonlight illuminating the altar. If not for the height from where his arm draws her upward, she would kiss her teeth against the stone.

She twists, grinds her teeth against the pain. The putrid aroma of sweet apple blossoms overwhelms her and she looks: at the height of her eyes, a locket of rubies glows on his chest.

A heart – everyone has a heart.

She reaches for a weapon.

Even corpses.

Yet in the looking glass image of enchanted gemstones a different world altogether unravels in a torrent of liquid fire, inside which the sword of the witcher-girl – the blade that does not discriminate – submerges back into the Lake.

‘Did I not tell you,’ the elf says, tightening his grip around her face, around her neck, at which her own arms shoot up, ‘we would meet again.’

Ciri’s heart races in her constricting throat to the fading echo of bells in the night in which small, even teeth smile at her before the altar stone of Ynys Gwydrin – the faeries’ glass castle, the Spiral Hill.

It depends on who seeks what the mists show.

Fey light plays in his green eyes, stirring its poison, making it drip on her lips as he watches from above – with indifferent curiosity – over her struggles. Red, red across his shoulders, red around his neck, red on his... red, red, red... Air rushes back into her lungs, sweeter than ever somehow despite the rot of the hunter in it.

She stumbles. For a moment it goes dark in front of Ciri’s eyes as the whistling in her ears grows to an unbearable level, but oblivion does not take her. That would be too graceful in a graceless universe. Instead, she feels the contours of the warrior’s arm brush hers, dragging slowly around her, back again. She shudders at the strange, new sensation his touch, now benevolently bestowed, instils and tries to move – only to have a solid thigh restrict her. It makes her realise. It makes her flush. Ciri opens her eyes.

Eredin Bréacc Glas is observing her over the edge of an elegant golden kylix.

The Grail...

She watches how the elf dips the chalice against his lips, how the prominent Adam’s apple in his neck jounces once, twice; she watches how the penetrating eyes of the Sparrowhawk close briefly in what looks like genuine bliss. He drinks. She cannot tear her eyes away from him even if she still tastes the faint notes of wine off of Galahad’s lips on hers. She is expecting for whatever is meant to happen to happen.

It never happens.

Her hopes never happen.

Only a grim, mocking smile visits the elf’s glistening lips. ‘Your turn, butterfly.’

‘What did you do to him?’ she growls. ‘Why don’t you die? Die! Why don’t you, damn you!?’

‘Do not talk nonsense. Drink.’

He pushes the kylix under her chin and some of its content sloshes onto her breast. Suddenly, Ciri notices herself: she is in an elaborate deep cut dress of dark red – finer even than what she had worn in the world of the elves – adorned with jewels. Royal is too soft a word for it. With horror she realises that she does not remember how she got to be this way.

‘Drink,’ he repeats.

And Ciri almost screams for the second time: refusing to confront the predatory gaze in front of her she witnesses instead how a faint smile spreads on Galahad’s blue lips. The knight’s lifeless eyes, previously full of inexplicable peace, stay glued on the ashen-haired girl while the blackening, algal waters of the lake begin to swallow him. With bubbling, as in a witch’s cauldron, the lake draws the Grail knight into its fathomless embrace.

‘Is our hospitality too good for you?’ the elf asks. She almost does not hear. She is trying to get away from the water.

Eredin lifts his hand, knowing she will not do anything to rebuke him, and stills her like one would a frightened animal. She almost does not notice. Almost. He traces a meandering line from Ciri’s jawline to her breastbone, to sternum, to the exposed curve of the girl’s chest where he lets his fingers toy with the lace trimming. Slowly, Ciri returns to the elf.

‘What more could you possibly want?’

With a rough movement the elf plunges his hand underneath the expensive fabric, his large palm spreading over the rounded out curve of the girl’s breast. She wonders if he likes it better this way. She wonders why she asks herself something like this. She will not escape his watchful gaze as he pursues the heavy intake of breath, the way her eyes fill with panic, desire, shame. The way she shifts away from her nightmare onto the altar stone – onto the ancient sacrificial stone of the Druids – unable to really do more than part her knees before his large form and allow him everything anyway.

Eredin knows. And she knows that he knows.

Ciri shuts her eyes and thinks, desperately, of a place – but all places are as one place and only place. Here is her place, the only place, and elsewhere there is nothing but fog, nothing but water which washes up against her bare calves, cold as the phantasmal hunter’s scornful laughter against the side of her inflamed neck. Cold as the frost left in the wake of the Sparrowhawk’s lips closing over the girl’s heated pulse, claiming the rapid thrills of her heart.

She moans. Cool metal touches her lips. She accepts.

She drinks and knows at once it is blood and not wine that coats her tongue, before tasting the precious nectar again when Eredin claims her mouth, washing away all false sacraments of humanity.

‘You belong to us.’

It echoes inside her skull like the ringing of icicles.

‘Turn around,’ the elf orders, placing the chalice in-between her shaking hands. ‘He wants to watch your face.’

Freezing stone greets her belly where his hand pushes down on the small of her back, leaning her small form over under the strange moonlight that shines from nowhere. Her mind fixates on his words and she looks curiously. By a fireplace that opens in-between the statues of two mother-of-pearl unicorns Ciri thinks she sees the Alder King lounging in a tall chair, legs spread wide apart. The darkness is rustling around itself, making it difficult to recognise things for what they are, but the girl remembers.

Eredin dips his fingers in the kylix in front of her nose. Some of it lands on her brow.

Ciri feels what these fingers do: how one firm hand traces up and down the back of her thighs, spreading her open until the fabric of the royal dress must tear, while the other dives in-between her legs; how a pair of demanding lips suck onto the side of her neck as her small frame is being subjected to a series of trembling pulsations at the merciless pace of his fingers over her clit; how she sounds like – how wet! – absolutely laving at the presence of the predator, at the feel of his solid weight against her rear.

‘What a prized prey you are, Zireael,’ he breathes.

Her eyes open and close against her will. She feels her lithe form being pried open for sensations, but her mind does not entirely comprehend everything. Firelight soaks the light hair of the Old King with its glow and in a daze she watches how a shadowy shape of a giant python winds its way around his broad shoulders, lazing about his neck in a slow, perpetual movement. The elf looks entirely undisturbed, perhaps even unaware. Something in her clamours to warn Auberon, to speak out in time – this time – against the danger in order to avert the course of such Fate as has already run its course.

Has it... run its course?

The girl hears cloth and leather rustling behind her. The red in the chalice, in the fires, in her – it joins in filling up her pupils with the desire pushing upon her from the mists. In a short moment her stomach floods with writhing warmth at the weight of Eredin’s cock in-between her buttocks. She doesn’t want to think, she wants... she wants. And bucks against one of his powerful thighs leaning on the stone beside her hip as he grinds himself lazily against her. The slap, when it comes, tears a genuine cry from her throat. It firms her up. Again! It disperses all traitorous thoughts in her head. Except one: she discovers she wishes to be embraced as suffocatingly as the elf who wishes to look at Ciri’s face as she is taken by his rival.

He can hear me, Ciri thinks. He can hear me whining like a bitch in heat for somebody young and strong, somebody who would steal away all from him – his throne, his power, that child...

The mild chuckle that reaches her ears pours over the girl like cold water over a stray kitten – unsurprising, and yet absolutely petrifying. The fair-haired elf by the fireplace cocks his head slightly to the side; it is not the Old King who wants to look at her so. Why how could it be? The flame-kissed aquamarines glow rather, like icicles.

Ciri is really quite comically shocked.

A furious blush dyes her cheeks. Quickly averting her eyes, the girl’s breath nevertheless hitches in her throat, because unexpectedly she finds herself staring into an abyss opening up below in the depths of swirling black water. It is everywhere: bare, pathless, infinite. Starless. Shrouded in the mists. It is impossible to find one’s way in such a place.

Where am I?

She makes out a slow procession of shadows, curving like old bones as they tread their way toward eternity in the bowels of the lake. There are people she knows there; people she has killed and people she has loved.

‘You are where you belong, Loc’hlaith.’

Avallac’h’s voice rings familiar this time, and somewhere – perhaps only deep within this mirror realm – a seagull’s shriek carries through the thick white mists. Is it welcoming her? Or is the borrowed time leased with its life simply running out?

It is the elf from her nightmares who yanks Ciri out of the sorcerous whirlpool of illusions, though. By a leather noose, formed, it seems, of Eredin’s own belt. Simultaneously, the girl feels him withdraw his fingers from in-between her buttocks.

Like a mare. He will take me like a disobedient mare.

‘Drink,’ he says shortly. ‘Trust me when I say it’s for your own good, little butterfly.’

‘Go on,’ she hears in her head. ‘You know what the right thing to do is, don’t you, Zireael? I may wonder why others must die for your selfishness, but in the end, the choice is always yours.’

As she lifts the sacred chalice to her lips for the second time under the eyes of elves, Ciri almost does not feel how the dark-haired one sinks forward and inside her. Almost. She is shielded, she later realises, by the bright aquamarines burning into hers, feeling like a blissful caress against their dark brother’s bruising attentions.

Red trickles down from the side of her mouth at the first languid thrust. Her back arches, but Eredin keeps it incurved. Neither are his fluent fingers leaving her unattended, slipping ever so often inside her sopping entrance, but it is altogether more difficult this way around. And she cannot look away from the other one – from the fair one she had offered herself willingly to. As he pushes forward for the second time Ciri senses a strange spell snap around her and squirms, finally allowed to fall entirely back inside her body, into the hungering depravity of sensation.

‘Such funny thoughts guide you, Swallow,’ Crevan says quietly.

He has stood up, approaches, and Ciri shudders, feeling the commander move deeper inside of her and covering her small form entirely with his for a moment.

‘Behave,’ he whispers, drawing his lips along her ear. ‘And we shall reward you.’

As he pulls away and focuses on his own pleasure, Ciri faintly wishes to clench her eyes at the discomfort but can only groan softly. The surface underneath her is cool and smooth. The air smells differently too – of formalin. Through a haze of pleasure she glances up and sees Avallac’h standing over them, looking at her quite calmly.

‘Where am I?’

‘Does it really make a difference?’ the dark-haired elf threads his free hand softly through her hair. ‘Crevan designs such things on the fly. Or, “as Fate chooses”.’

Though sarcastic, for a moment he sounds almost like he could be pitying her. Almost. But instead of a heart in his chest, the King of the Wild Hunt carries a locket of precious stones.

She swallows. ‘It makes a difference to me.’

The girl’s head feels increasingly like full of cotton wool – like something or someone is calling to her from beyond the haze – and her eyes dart around wildly as she supports herself on her elbows. What had looked like a small stone chapel shrouded in the mists on an island of priests, in a world of the Knights of the Round Table, seems so no longer.

‘Has anything ever been as it first appeared?’

Crevan crouches before her. At first, he lifts his hand, curling his long fingers as if to stroke the girl’s cheek, but decides against it in the end and reaches for the golden chalice instead.

‘Do you like my magic, luned?’ he asks.

Ciri recoils: snakes crawl off the kylix and around Crevan’s forearms where they wind in an infinite green spiral, eating themselves. Aen Saevherne smiles gently, smelling what’s inside the chalice, and pours it away. For some reason his move makes her irrationally worried. As if it was all an illusion and a trick. As if Galahad had really died for nothing.

She also realises that the Sage is reading her like an open book.

‘Is this how you must be handled?’ Avallac’h looks at her from close up. ‘Like he thinks.’ He nods toward the other elf and Ciri hears a quiet chuckle among sounds of the flesh she is too ashamed to admit make her heady with want, even as her swallow heart rips in her throat with fear. ‘With a leash and a stick and a carrot?’

Ciri wonders how Avallac’h can stand this – to so calmly look upon her, who bears the eyes of his Lara, while she is like this.

Go ahead, look! Look and may you choke on it! Both of you.

A myriad of emotions seems to flash behind the sorcerer’s bright, pale eyes. He puts his palm under her chin, drags his thumb slowly across her lower lip. Then he stands up.

‘I wish I had met your ancestor who put this burden on you,’ he says, easing aside the robe under his belt. ‘In fact, I wish I had met him much like this.’

Ciri feels the touch of his hard flesh against her cheek. She looks up at him. She doesn’t... but the elf caresses her head insistently, looking at her reassuringly, and soon Ciri understands why people subject themselves to this. He feeds her his cock slowly and suddenly she feels so very small. And embraced on all sides – suffocatingly.

Avallac’h’s head falls back.

‘Beautiful.’

It passes in a flurry from then on.

He fucks into her mouth in a manner that does not allow her – not once – to interrupt the nestling of the weight of his flesh in her throat. What he has done to make it possible she does not know, but it does not hurt as much as she expects. He talks to her, too. She groans around him repeatedly, enjoying the caresses of his hands in her hair and along her bulging neck, and is tempted to simply close her eyes and yield entirely to the tight fullness, the pleasure in her belly. But he wants her to keep her eyes on him and the straining belt around her neck guarantees it in its own way. Thus, she behaves, and while taking both of them at once discovers that there is something comfortable in having something put in your mouth; right before Crevan’s hands tighten in her ashen hair and he leaves copious amounts of creamy cum under her tongue, on her lips, dribbling down her chin – he wipes it with his cock – and streaking against her rosy cheeks.

Avallac’h kisses her before she has swallowed, and she swallows. Drinking in him, as she has drank from the cup of god. And he laughs softly in-between rapid breaths as she writhes through her own orgasm, deaf and blind to the world.

‘Do you have anything at all in this laboratory, Crevan,’ she hears a familiar voice uttering once the buzzing in her head has subsided, ‘which does not scour the living daylights out of you, nor turn you into a mindless sycophant? To drink, I mean.’

‘Of course,’ the Sage replies lightly. ‘Many things. Who would I be if I did not know how to obtain and create things of which even you might not have heard of?’

The girl does not understand how Eredin responds, but she hears the Sage of the Alder Elves snort – quite good-naturedly.

Exactly so Ciri’s eyes flicker open, the press of the metal table against her cheek considerably warmer than usual from the presence of her own person on it. Avallac’h is beside her, cleaning his hands inside a small purple cloth. Noticing her staring, he offers Ciri a clean one for her own use, but the girl can do nothing but stare.

A crimson mage light hangs high above in the darkness, glowing with strange fey light as if it was the hour of wolf’s moon. Small milky-white mist is rolling out of several cucurbits at the edge of her line of sight. She smells formalin and apple blossoms. Fresh, sweet blossoms.

‘There is vodka in the disinfectants cabinet,’ the sorcerer says offhandedly to his collaborator, his attention entirely preoccupied by the girl whose emerald eyes have never looked quite as big and beautiful as in that very moment.

Perhaps it is the misty wetness of them that so makes them resemble infinitely deep and green lakes upon which white fog spreads like on top of a witch’s cauldron.

‘My darling girl,’ the elf coos fondly, taking her in his arms without much effort and seating them both where it feels more comfortable. ‘Did we frighten you?’

For a time that drags on into the infinite Ciri wonders if she has forgotten how to speak.

‘You are blushing,’ Crevan notes with a smile, caressing her face, her cheeks and scar, unbothered by the ugliness. Touching slightly upon her swollen lips. ‘That’s very good. Very healthy.’

Silently, Eredin appears by their side, swooping out of the darkness with a sought-after bottle in one hand and two glasses in another, one of them filled.

‘A drink for the Lady,’ he says with a small bow to Ciri.

Avallac’h accepts the glass for the girl, since Ciri sits on his lap as if frozen like a small marble doll in the most glorious ruined red dress. The commander shrugs and pours himself one, downs it, and flops down on a crimson couch.

‘Is this –’ she begins, too silently even for herself to hear. ‘Is this all about power for you?’

‘Of course it is about power, Zireael. Everything is. Even love.’ The elven sorcerer looks at her thoughtfully. ‘Though humans often like to mistake one for the other – and more often, I think, power for love – what you witnessed here, on your own skin, were different kinds of power and how power can be wielded. I am sure if you think about it a little longer you will also come up with some answers for the most important question of all – why is power wielded as it is? I will gladly answer all of your questions in this regard once you do so.’

‘You may think you can be more than you are because of your exceptional ancestry,’ Eredin’s voice cuts in from the couch. ‘But you are what you are, my butterfly. Do not ever mistake yourself as more to any of us.’

She doesn’t see Crevan’s almost imperceptible annoyance. Her thoughts flood with the Sparrowhawk’s rasping voice by her ear moments before he had spilled himself across her back. It is too real to be a dream. It is too close to skin. Too present... as if she is back in those moments again and again...

‘A dh’oine whore, whose little life cannot sustain much more than the one thing you know so little how to care for. Yet you crave it all the same, like a natural. You want life put inside of you. You want the Young King not the Old King. Fortunate little butterfly – you will never have to live long with the after-effects of all these beautifully intense first experiences.’

Avallac’h is scrutinizing her closely.

Her fingers are clutching painfully at the front of his robes, she realises. It seems she has nestled closer to him unconsciously in the middle of her thoughts. She can tell the elf likes it, though his expression betrays little.

‘Do you know what will happen now, Ciri?’ Crevan asks her quietly.

She looks into his clear aquamarines.

‘Now we will make a child with you,’ he whispers against her lips. ‘A beautiful fairy child who will make you and me very happy.’

He begins to lift her but she puts her hands on his chest, clinging to that shred of long-forgotten love that she has seen in his eyes – something that has twisted and snapped too many times to be quite right again.

‘But I am not –’

‘I know you are not,’ he cuts her off. ‘That is alright. My blood is very good too, you see. And those genes in you which truly matter will be more than enough.’

‘Please. Please, Avallac'h!'

‘Please?’ he looks at her kindly, at her hands clutching his bigger one. ‘What is it, Ciri? This is good, very-very good. It is good you came here to us of your own free will. I will be patient with you; gentle. Kiss you... here? Or do you wish me to put you on that table, over there,’ he nods with his head into the darkness from whence they came. ‘I don’t want to do that, luned. It will hurt us both very much this way and you and I have been hurt enough, don’t you think?’

He strokes her hands.

‘Can we not wait? Do we have to – right now...’

‘Right now is a very good time.’

‘Right here, with him –’

‘Who?’

She blinks and looks around. There is no one else.

Where am I? Everywhere. Nowhere.

The fair elf lord kisses her hand, his laughter ringing like icicles or tiny bells. A locket of rubies glows on his chest.

A heart. Everyone has a heart.

‘Oh, Ciri, you are so very adorable,’ his hands lift her easily as he positions himself at her entrance. ‘You’ll soon forget all about him. Now, relax.’

Ciri awakes.

Mist swims before her eyes.

Somewhere, in the mists, the bells of Glastonbury are ringing.

[aurora-daily]

Like A Bird In The Night: Clash Meets Aurora

Interview: AURORA for Clash by Lisa Higgins (July 4th, 2019).

Having just performed a headline slot with The Chemical Brothers at Glastonbury on Saturday night, where she was projected 50ft high onto the main stage screens, it’s hard to think of Norwegian star Aurora as the same shy and unassuming woman Clash met 10 days before in a quiet corner of a London hotel.

There to get deep with me about her third album, ‘A Different Kind Of Human’, the singer was celebrating her 23rd birthday contemplating the meaning behind her avant-garde pop sound. The new album covers everything from male suicide rates to climate change and consumerism, and Aurora is determined to empower young people to change their surroundings for the better using her compulsive natural talent for songwriting.

To be Aurora is to live with an incessant need to make music and while it can be anxiety-inducing having such a busy mind, the outcome is material of an impressive magnitude far beyond her dainty stature. And when she’s not creating other-worldly, dystopian soundscapes she’s either sober raving until 6am or listening to Slayer.

Basically this is not your average pop star.

You spilt your concept into two albums. How do you feel now compared to when you were embarking on the whole thing?

I love not being ‘up and coming’ anymore, it’s nice to be more established. I knew the work would come out like it has. The day I released step 1 I had everything in my head for step 2. I woke up in a hotel, in London actually, and had the album in my head and I knew what I was going to do. Now I’m already making my next album. I just can’t stop.

So you give yourself no time off - the end of one album sparks the creation of the next?

It does. I have the title and tracks and the concept straight away. It’s weird how I can’t do it until I’ve released one though. I’ll cry and laugh and think about all the work I’ve done, but then I’m empty and then I fill up with something new. It’s an eternal hunt or game between me and my mind. It’s very fun.

Why did you decide to split the record into two albums in the first place?

It was while making Step One that we discussed splitting it up. I have so many songs and I realised that the whole concept was two different aspects of one process. One is internal and emotional (Step One) and about letting yourself be infected by something… but then that will turn you into 'A Different Kind Of Human' (Step Two). And when you’re a different kind of human you can change the world and do something important.

The album is about making the choice to become a different kind of human. Many people think it’s about me, because I’ve always been a bit strange or different but it’s nothing to do with me at all.

We love the themes of nature and the environment. It often sounds as though you are singing from the top of a cliff…is that the imagery you are trying to create?

Yes, music for me is not about my own pain, relationships or breakups, I write about the world around me. I want the music to be a nature force big like a mountain, ocean or hurricane. Music for me is really big and the closest thing I’ve experience to something divine. I want people to be reminded of their inner warrior.

We’re in an important time, fighting for nature and what you believe in. I think we’re hungry for more. I write pop music and it’s very intellectual and full of emotion. I have many different styles within pop in my songs. Every song has a clear identity and asks for its own colour it’s own mood. I’m really missing meaning in pop music and I have been the last 20 years. I miss the force that we need and I believe that it’s up to individuals.

We don’t have a machine to clear the water of plastic, we have to do it by hand. It’s up to us, the people. The true power lies within the people it always has but somehow throughout history the rich leaders have made it seem like power lies with one person. But that’s so old fashioned, we’re getting out of that now, the power lies with the people. I really want to remind people of the power they have that they may have forgotten about.

Are there are artists you listened to growing up that you felt gave you this power?

I grew up in Norway without a radio or music on the TV so the only artists I listened to were Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and Enya. They are really the only artists I listen to now. I like Underworld, The Chemical Brothers and rave music too, but I know very little about music. I think that’s why I started to make my own.

That’s interesting because for a lot of people, growing up with music is intrinsic. I can’t remember the first time I heard certain types of music but I did and all those influences are part of what I like now, so I suppose your music is very pure and intuitive because it has less of that?

It is very intuitive and it comes by instinct. I just make music and I produce in a way where I don’t think about where it comes from, it’s just energy. But I did learn from Dylan and Cohen that you can make something beautiful and tell something important without being condescending. I feel like a lot of music on the radio lately is underestimating people, as though they wouldn’t understand complicated music.

What’s your favourite track on the album?

'Soulless Creatures'. It means a lot to me and it’s written about giving too much. It’s Mother Earth writing to humankind about wanting to thrive again. Sometimes I don’t understand what a song means for a while. It sounds pretentious and stupid but it does happen. I just write and write all the time. I have songs already for my fifth album.

Wow you’re so prolific, you’re like the Beatles!

Yes haha! It’s very messy in my head. I have to constantly make notes and colour co-ordinate them. It takes a lot of planning!

It sounds exhausting. How do you look after yourself emotionally and mentally, having compositions weaving through your mind all the time? Obviously you love it, but it sounds tiring.

It can be, and album release week is always a mess for me, as I can’t sleep. I stay awake until 6am every night and wake up at 10am. It can be a pain in the ass trying to go to sleep and then I hear a melody and harmony and all the instrumental parts come. I record it down quickly and once it’s out of my head I feel better.

I have a very strong relationship with heavy metal. It was the first music I discovered for myself when I was 13 and I remember the force of the anger in it. People think it’s noise but it’s not. I love the polyrhythmics of it; I’m a good percussionist and that comes from my love of heavy metal. I love System of a Down, Gojira, Masterdon and Slayer.

I first went to a Gojira show in Bergen when I was 11. I find it calms me down and I can fall asleep to it. I often need to come home and put some heavy metal on, scream and dance and then make myself some dinner. If I listen to music I listen to heavy metal or Enya. But generally I find it hard to listen to any music because music is in my head all the time and I’m so afraid I will miss an idea.

How else do you relax?

I love rave dancing; it’s my favourite thing. I’ve been to a few rave parties on boats in Paris, London and Berlin. I like the ones that are secure with no drugs and I don’t drink alcohol when I go raving because then I can really dance and I feel safer.

Dancing makes me feel comfortable in my own skin. I would recommend to everyone out there to challenge themselves a bit and go out to dance, because no one knows you. It’s very good for self growth. I’ve been 20 times in the last two years and I prefer it to dancing with friends. It’s always on evenings that I should be tired and then often I’m not home before 6am the next day.

Are there any other stand out tracks on the album?

I want to mention 'Hunger'. It’s about all our consuming, the endless hunger for money, food, clothes and how we’ve destroyed the world because of that hunger. We force ourselves to not see the people dying to make you a t-shirt because you’re hungry to buy as many T shirts that you can. We waste money and time on things that won’t make a difference.

I hate everything in fashion. I make my clothes or buy vintage. A fan gave me a piece of fabric from Indonesia that I’ve stitched into my trousers and made a top from. She carried it all the way for me and gave to me at a tiny show in Norway.

You recently wrote with The Chemical Brothers on 'Eve Of Destruction' tell me about that?

I got an email from Tom Rowlands in 2017 and he just said: Do you want to write with us? I couldn’t believe it. I don’t get starstruck but my musical respect for them is so huge and it was so nice that he asked me direct rather than through his management.

I took a week to reply because I couldn’t find the right words. Tom lives in the countryside with no phone reception. I stayed at an inn and a South African oil painter was living there in exchange for teaching the owner’s children to paint. I love to paint, so we went out together to paint by the ocean after I had been writing with Tom in the day.

It was a dream to be in the studio with Tom and all the synths. I was nervous to pitch the ideas I had but I also knew he would like it somehow. He’s such a nice guy and I felt that we are similar with our passion for music. I think one day we will make more music together.

Is there anyone else you’d like to write with?

I would love to work with Underworld. If they want my number I will happily give it out! I also love Imogen Heap, Lorde and of course, Gojira.

[bumblebeeappletree]

"From Thursday 25 to Sunday 28 July, Extinction Rebellion will be spreading the message of Internationalist Solidarity in addressing the Climate and Ecological Emergency at WOMAD, the UK’s biggest festival devoted to music, arts and dance from around the world.

As well as hosting speakers and performers from around the world on their Rebel Rebel Stage throughout the festival, Extinction Rebellion will be holding a Celebration of Life on the Charlie Gillett Stage on Saturday morning, culminating in a Rebel Roar in defence of the planet; ceremonially reading an advanced copy of the Global Witness list of murdered indigenous activists in 2018; and recreating the Garden Bridge from the April Rebellion in London, with saplings from the trees which survived the Battle of Verdun.

From 10am on Saturday, Skeena Rathor of Extinction Rebellion’s Visioning team will lead a Celebration of Life on WOMAD’s Main Stage. This will honour the courage and successes of Earth Protectors around the world, rejoice in a shared faith in humanity and nature, and call for the restoration, regeneration and rewilding of the one planet we all call home. Youth speakers from around the world will be joined by festival musicians and the Invisible Circus in telling the story of Extinction Rebellion. There will be a guided meditation, stories from children, a Gaelic hymn of mourning honouring Global South activists killed on the front line and music in support of Extinction Rebellion from Undercover Hippy. It will culminate with a call to action and children leading the audience in adding their voices to the Rebel Roar, a powerful expression of fierce defiance in defence of the planet, accompanied by a waving sea of Extinction Rebellion flags.

The Celebration will also include a solemn ceremony led by Kofi Mawuli Klu, who will read out a list of indigenous activists murdered around the world in 2018. This list is an excerpt from an advance copy of the annual Global Witness defenders report, due to be released publicly on 30 July. Indigenous activists protect over 70% of the Earth’s biodiversity. The ceremony will honour those murdered for defending their lands and this biodiversity from western mining interests and the fossil fuel industry.

Extinction Rebellion will also be recreating the atmosphere of the Garden Bridge at WOMAD with trees decorating the Rebel Rebel tent, as they did Waterloo Bridge during the International Rebellion in April. These will afterwards be given to good homes in underprivileged neighbourhoods, just as the trees from Waterloo Bridge were.[1] In this way, WOMAD will be transformed into Waterloo Bridge, just as Glastonbury was Oxford Circus, with the iconic pink boat. Following this, Wilderness will become Parliament Square and Boomtown Marble Arch, retelling the story of the Spring Rebellion across the Summer’s festivals, while recruiting for the Autumn Rebellion.

Among the trees being brought to WOMAD are two Verdun saplings, a horse chestnut and an oak, direct descendants of the last remaining trees from the single deadliest battle in human history. The Battle of Verdun in World War One left a million dead and injured in one single military engagement. The few Verdun Trees left alive after this battle of unimaginable horror became a symbol of peace, so the Verdun saplings at WOMAD will represent loss, sorrow, peace and regrowth.

On top of all this, Extinction Rebellion will be hosting a full programme of talks, performances and workshops at the Rebel Rebel stage and tent throughout the festival. Indigenous elders from around the world will highlight the importance of internationalist solidarity in the struggle for climate justice. There will be performances from musicians from around the world, talks on the Climate and Ecological Emergency and what to do about it, nonviolent direct action training, and various other workshops.

Skeena Rathor of Extinction Rebellion’s Visioning team says: “Solving the Climate and Ecological Crisis is the greatest and most complex challenge that we have ever faced, and we need to work together in order to do so. The ethos of WOMAD and Extinction Rebellion is a natural fit, so I think we’ve found our festival home. We communicate through stories, so we are so delighted to have a stage at WOMAD and a platform to tell our story. Life is a precious and beautiful miracle. We must take joy in our existence, so we will be holding this Celebration of Life and calling on all there to Rebel for Life, to Dance and Disobey and join the movement of our lives. We will not stop until we win.”

Coordinator of Extinction Rebellion’s Internationalist Solidarity Network Kofi Mawuli Klu says: “The fight for Climate and Ecological Justice around the world is ongoing. There are 27 million indentured slaves in the world right now. Young children are forced to mine for heavy metals. Resources are being plundered by rapacious Western corporations and courageous individuals are dying on the front line trying to stop them. Climate disasters strike with increasing and frightening frequency, with the Global South hit the hardest.

“But there are also many signs of hope, with indigenous people winning victories in legal battles, conservation efforts and tree planting around the world and increasing solidarity between activists in the Global North and South. What we choose to do now does make a difference and a different way of ordering the world is within our grasp. We have one planet so let us share it together equitably and wisely. Join Extinction Rebellion and Rebel for Life”

WOMAD’s Global Festival Director Chris Smith said: “WOMAD exists because of the ability of people of different cultures to collaborate positively and creatively, and so we’ve been inspired by the efforts of Extinction Rebellion to create such huge energy and global solidarity around the urgent need to tackle the ongoing climate and ecological emergency.

“It’s exciting that our two organisations will be able to come together this weekend to both celebrate the global cultures that form the core of our humanity, and inspire people to act to help preserve our species, our planet, and with them the global music art and culture we’re celebrating this weekend.” "

[midnightiscoming-kasabian]

Nine Songs: Serge Pizzorno [1/2]

Kasabian’s Sergio Pizzorno talks Maddy Smith through the songs that have soundtracked his hit-filled career, and why he’s taking on an escapist solo project with The S.L.P.

“I always think that there’s a Japanese take on western culture. One where you can get a different eye looking at society. It’s a cartoonish way of looking at the world.”

A shaven leopard print fade, suede tiger print shirt and cheetah print jacket is not the typical get-up of someone who takes themselves too seriously. Kasabian’s creative force Sergio Pizzorno is just that - a character with a unique view of the world. As we sit down to chat in a London café, Pizzorno’s laid-back demeanour is somewhat at odds with his aggressively loud attire. Discussing his approach to song writing he reflects on a career that spans two decades riddled with no. 1 albums, and he stresses the importance of comedy and light-heartedness in a world that can often take itself too seriously.

“It’s all very visual and imagery is really important, I like to set little scenes in my lyrics, and humour as well. I think there has to be a little twist, or a little darkness, like in ‘Vlad the Impaler’. Calling a track that is ridiculous, so there’s a cartoonish nature to it as well. But ‘Underdog’ actually is about the love of the underdog and ‘Fire’ is about when you keep rolling sixes, when you just can’t miss. ‘Thick as Thieves’ and tracks like that are little stories. I think films and cinema are important, I feel like a lot of my ideas come from that world.”

With five no. 1 albums, a Glastonbury headline set and a wealth of worldwide tours behind him, Kasabian’s guitarist and songwriter meets me in the run up to a new challenge with the release of upcoming solo album, The S.L.P. Featuring Little Simz and Slowthai, he explains the reasons behind his solo venture. “I wanted to make an album where I can collaborate and it’s easier to do that when it’s with a different project. It was almost to create a world that you can visit every now and again. It gives you total freedom; you can be in the studio with anyone, see what happens and that’s really exciting.”

From his tongue-in-cheek dirgy, paleontological lyrics, zesty fashion sense, to the left-field tracks in his nine songs, it’s clear to see an eclectic pattern emerge; a comical twist on the everyday but also on life’s darker tangents. Catching a glimpse of the luminous socks peeking out of his shoes (which are emblazoned with a product available in Amsterdam coffee shops - you know the ones) I inwardly chuckle as I’m reminded that all too often we get caught up in cynicism, and think back to those infamous words from ‘Vlad the Impaler’ where Noel Fielding rigidly terrorises unassuming locals in ‘80’s horror movie fashion through barren fields. “Get loose, Get loose.”

“Dragonaut” by Sleep

“There’s a wicked film called Gummo, have you seen it? This song is on the soundtrack and it’s got that Sabbath thing going on, which we were looking for around our second album. The first album sort of blew up and we were quickly becoming quite big. We went in to record the second album with that in mind, we wanted to have heavy guitars for the live sound, that tone and that evilness, that heavy sort of drone in ‘Dragonaut’ - we just wanted to create some of that.

“It was a big contrast to what the first album was. It was becoming this band on this escapade, so we fell into that and life just got insane. We wanted to make a really heavy record to reflect that, the guitar was at the forefront because we played live every night, so we wanted to take that attitude and capture it in the studio.

“This track has that dirgy sound that I love, for me that will go to a lot of different areas but at the core, groove, flavour and flow is so, so important. We used to call it “The push” because if it pushes, it’s laid back behind the beat.

“It’s funny, because if you know that a musician has got it or a band has got it, it’s like you’re in that clique - ‘I know why you like that, because it’s got that flavour.’ You can listen to a hip-hop tune or a heavy metal tune and somehow get it. I think that was the appeal with making Empire, it was to retain that, ‘Okay, it’s going to be heavy and it’s going to be distorted, but we still need to retain that flavour and that push.’”

“Revenge of the Black Regent” by Add N to (X)

“I love their album Avant Hard, it’s way, way ahead of the game. It must have been the late ‘90s when I discovered it, around ‘98 or ‘99. I used to work in a clothes shop when I was about 18 or 19 and in the square where the shop was there was a record store. We got on with the guy there and he told me I’d love this record. So on the Monday, when the new records would come out, I put that on instantly and thought ‘What is going on here?’

“They were really ahead of the curve with ‘Revenge of the Black Regent’. Add N to (X) were using all these synths that I’d never heard of, that’s when I started to really research and get into the synth world and I became a complete synth nerd.

“What’s interesting is what people can hear compared to what you’re actually listening to. Say with our first album, when people said it sounded like Primal Scream or Happy Mondays and all this, we were actually listening to Add N to (X), that’s where we were getting that sound you can hear on the first record. It’s almost like they didn’t dig deep enough to realise what we were into, and where we were getting our inspiration from.

“‘Revenge of the Black Regent’ is really minimal, there’s hardly any layers and the girl’s voice is amazing; ethereal and floaty, it’s so good. The synths are amazing and the flavour’s there again that I love. There’s a horror to it as well, a darkness to it. It celebrates that feeling of discomfort or like you’re feeling a little on edge. It looks like there’s a thread to these tunes!”

“A To G” by Blackalicious

“That’s going back! For me, the lyrics from Gift of Gab - who’s part of Blackalicious - have such an amazing wittiness and humour about them. Blackalicious are so good at that, combining cleverness and wittiness with that melody and production on the track.

“My friend used to DJ in Leicester as a hip-hop DJ and he used to get me all of these albums. He played that out to me one time, it was that wordplay and the artistry in connecting words and meaning that grabbed me, and the flow on ‘A to G’ blew my mind.

“There’s humour in the song and I feel that’s also important. At the forefront I think humour plays a big part of my taste; there’s humour in all these tracks - even in ‘Revenge of the Black Regent’ and ‘Dragonaut’. I find something quite absurd about them, but I think if you’re writing something that’s a bit weird and wacky it’s really important for people to be in on the joke.

“We actually managed to work with Blackalicious and get a remix done of ‘Take Aim’ by them. We’re going to get that on YouTube at some point, which is amazing. That was great.”

“Plateau” by Meat Puppets

“I came late to the game with grunge. At the time I was a bit young, the rave scene had a massive effect on me and grunge was so far from what I was into. I think back in the day you didn’t tend to like everything, you’d say you were more into grunge, or into hip-hop, or a certain scene; it was very tribal.

"So I couldn’t really connect the dots to Nirvana and grunge, and at the time I missed the wave of grunge. But then when I got into guitar music later on - maybe in the late 90s - I found Nirvana. I heard Kurt talk about Meat Puppets, I think they covered them on MTV’s Unplugged? “Again, it’s the vocal on this track - “And an illustrated book about birds” - you can’t not smirk at that, it’s so far off. It’s the brittleness of the sound, it feels like at any point it’s going to fall to pieces - and I just love that, I like broken stuff. In the studio I play with guitars that are really old and have got one string on them, so I feel like I really connect with this ramshackle, rustic sound and I just want to be in that band. I want to be in the Meat Puppets - I feel like they operate in a whole other world.”

“Six Days” by DJ Shadow

“I’ve spoken about ‘Organ Donor’ quite a lot, but with this track I think the words are really powerful, especially with everything that’s going on at the moment. He talks about “Tomorrow never knows until it’s too late.” It’s a very powerful message and it’s where the world is right now.

“DJ Shadow has always been a massive inspiration and I cite him as the reason that I make music now, because of how big an impact that first album Endtroducing..... had on me and how it made me look at music. He combines a sort of psych/folk with a beat with more of an electronic focus.

“As long as there’s people willing to experiment with synths and electronic influence in rock music - and I like to think there is - I think it will stay popular. Those waveforms must do something to some people’s ears. It’s funny when you hear people getting synths really wrong though, because it’s very obvious. I think you should have to have a licence. There’s certain synths that I hear on records that are so bad, it’s ‘Put that away! Please stay away from pre-sets and do some research if you want to get involved in experimenting with synths. Don’t just pull out a keyboard and start to make music.’ You’ve really got to do your research.”

The Line of Best Fit | Words: Maddy Smith | 23 August 2019

[sartrecamus2018-blog]

2018 Review

That time of year again, where I offer my take on another year in my life, and a pretty eventful one to say the least, but I’ll get to that later. I might do two parts of this: a review of music and films that I associate with this year, and then the nice one - a social review of this year.

I guess I’ll have my own awards ceremony for this, the review of music and film; now rather than being music or films that came out exclusively in this year, the main awards are more for the artist, song, or film that I associate with this year. The “New” section now are for awards exclusive to this year. Now this is cleared up, let’s look at the categories and the shortlist:

Artist of the Year - 

Tool

Eminem

Foo Fighters

Mike Shinoda

Led Zeppelin

Song of the Year - 

Lateralus - Tool

Fall - Eminem

Letting You Go - Bullet for my Valentine

Set it Off - Audioslave

Let Me Go - Avril Lavigne 

Film of the Year - 

Love Actually

Avengers: Infinity War

About Time

New Artist of the Year - 

Greta Van Fleet

Halestorm

Mike Shindoa

New Song of the Year - 

When the Curtain Falls - Greta Van Fleet

Uncomfortable - Halestorm

Nothing Makes Sense Anymore - Mike Shinoda

Letting it Go - Bullet for my Valentine

Evolution - Monster Truck

Okay let’s begin:

New Song of the Year - I’ve actually bought more albums that have come out in the year itself during 2018 than any other year, making this actually quite difficult. All of these songs I were listened to regularly during summer, so I associate them with that slightly tedious time... That said, they all helped me through it. Letting it Go by B4MV jumps out immediately as I listened the heck out of that song; the trio of When the Curtain Falls, Uncomfortable, and Evolution all rock so hard and are real jams. But! Mike Shinoda and his album Post Traumatic is a pretty extraordinary piece of work and if I could be bothered to, would give it album of the year; Nothing Makes Sense Anymore perfectly captures the emotional turmoil of the album, but also works as a strangely positive and hopeful song - a nice sing-a-long too. For this, it gets my New Song of the Year award - Nothing Makes Sense Anymore - Mike Shinoda

New Artist of the Year - I realised I may overexerted myself, writing that much for the first entry, but I’ll give it a shot here; firstly, no surprises really that the three nominees for the Artist of the Year are also included in the song category, as all of them helped me through those lonely, torturous summer months. There is reason to chose any of the three for this award - Greta an Fleet’s debut is just so freaking good like wow, and I think we can say they have proved all the haters wrong; Halestorm finally made the album that they’ve had the potential to make; both catchy and heavy in equal measure. But I mean - Mike - what a year. To come from the depths of 2017 to write an album that has more emotion than a Shakespearean novel demonstrates, if anything the strength of this man. Linkin Park are in good hands - Artist of the Year Award - Mike Shinoda

Film of the Year - I’ve amalgamated both films released this year and older films that I’ve only seen this year, because I genuinely haven’t seen any films this year it’s been embarrassing. The one film out of probably two that I’ve seen this year is Avengers: Infinity War, which got me right back on the Marvel hype train - I know everyone talks about the ending but the two and a half hours before that is so ambitious, and is unlike any previous Marvel film. Now comes the Richard Curtis show, first, About Time: ugh! I mean it’s purposefully sentimental and bloody Curtis knows what he’s doing but my gosh it works. Plus it has some meaning to me as well, considering the circumstances under which I watched it. The same can be said for Love Actually, but that was just something else; the perfect film to watch on a pretty perfect night, the emotional compromise was real. Heck, take it: Film of the Year - Love Actually

Song of the Year - okay now things get good! No surprises really that all these songs I associate with the latter half of the year, especially the ones that were introduced to me by someone, which only gives it more meaning. I’m gonna rule out Fall and Letting You Go, and although I love them, the competition is so strong; sorry guys. Set it Off and Let Me Go I was introduced to, and my gosh am I thankful for that - they may not be particularly profound, but they hit all the right places as far as being heavy and aggressive, in the case of Set it Off, and and emotional roller coaster in the case of Let Me Go. Any other year, trust me, it would be them, and there are certain nights I will come to forever associate with those songs. It just so happens that Lateralus is a song I associate with that night... tired, dazed, and wildly sentimental I listened to this as I was half falling asleep. The slow build up leading to that opening riff is the calm before the emotional storm when that riff kicks in, perfectly capturing the sense of what had occured that night. I mean, there’s all the complex song structure and Fibonacci sequence stuff going on, but at the end of the day, it’s a brilliantly emotional song. I’ll cry when I see it live. Song of the Year - Lateralus - Tool

Artist of the Year - Oh now I’m really going to ruffle a couple of feathers. It’s been a privilege to have found these artists this year, and in the case of some of them, it’s embaressing it’s taken so long. Led Zeppelin, however, I knew (how could I not!) and had been into for a while, but exploring their music for a little band I may or may have not been in was a real treat. I may not be able to listen to Dazed and Confused for a while considering we played it probably thousands of times, that said, the Song Remains the Same version is sublime. I was always going to support Mike Shinoda whatever he did, but the release of the Post Traumatic album was something really special - I’ve gone on about it enough, but it’s an album that has covered all my emotions and I’m sure will continue to in the future. Foo Fighters I had never really given the focus they deserved, until I sat down and listened to them properly - The Pretender, Learn to Fly, Everlong have all been the soundtrack to the last few months; watching their Glastonbury show was also a real highlight. The hard time of study leave in May and June was soundtracked by, strangely enough, Eminem... I don’t really know I managed to get into him, considering I was never really much of a fan of rap, but it my gosh it payed off. I listened to him pretty much throughout those couple of months, exploring all the albums as I become more and more convinced I could do the whole Rap God. While that is questionable, Eminem will continue to be a staple in my playlists to come. Tool time! Yeah they’re an amazing band I had previously thought of as overly indulgent and pretensions; while I still think that is the case, I now realise their music is probably unlike any in all of metal, managing to be both heavy and subtle in these powerful and profound songs. They’re incredible musicians and a truly unique band, and I’m fortunate they’ve provided a couple of songs to some amazing times in this year. Screw it - Artist of the Year - Tool/ Eminem

Next time on the Review of the Year - despite that being incredibly long-winded, I now move on to the second part where I look at all the social goings on of the year; I would have had very little to write about if I was to write about the two thirds of the year, but the final third! Now that’ something I can get into...

See y’all! 

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From July 11th t July 15th, 2022

11-07-22

LAMBCHOP “This (Is What I Wanted To Tell You)”; PHOEBE BRIDGERS “Punisher”; D’ANGELO “Brown Sugar”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Tommy Boy Presents: Hip Hop Essentials 1979-91, Vol. 1-3”; EASY STAR ALL-STARS “Radiodread”; WORLD PARTY “Private Revolution”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “New Wave Of British Heavy Metal: ’79 Revisited”

12-07-22

ROY BAILEY “Roy Bailey”; LEFTFIELD “Rhythm & Stealth”; FELA KUTI “Opposite People”; TOM WAITS “The Heart Of Saturday Night”; SLAYER “Hell Awaits”; KING TUBBY “A Sweeten’ Dub”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Motown Chartbuster s, Vol. 9”; SUPER FURRY ANIMALS “Love Kraft”

13-07-22

JUNE TABOR “Against The Streams”; GIRLSCHOOL “Hit And Run”; DIAMOND HEAD “Borrowed Time”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Tommy Boy Presents: Hip Hop Essentials 1979-91, Vol. 10-12”; NUSRAT FATEH ALI KHAN “Mustt Mustt”; JEFF BUCKLEY “Grace”; THE HOUSEMARTINS “Glastonbury, 22-06-86”

14-07-22

THE ALBION DANCE BAND “The Prospect Before Us”; LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III “Album I”;  THE FOUR BROTHERS “Makorokoto”; THE FRAMES “Dance The Devil”; THE CIMARONS “Maka”;  LINDISFARNE “Fog On The Tyne”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Tommy Boy Presents: Hip Hop Essentials 1979-91, Vol. 7-9”; CHUMBAWAMBA “Slap!”; THE FALL “Live At The Witch Trials”; DONNY HATHAWAY “Everything Is Everything”

15-07-22

THE MOUNTAIN GOATS “Zopilote Machine”; THE SUGARCUBES “Life’s Too Good”; THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS “Lincoln”; AIR “Moon Safari”; GOMEZ “In Our Gun”; ARETHA FRANKLIN “I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You”; RICHARD THOMPSON “Strict Tempo”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “C81”; THE CLASH “Combat Rock”; THE KINKS “Something Else By The Kinks”; BIG YOUTH “Jammin’ In The House Of Dread”