#horror urdu

[lifewithdream]

The last remaining page of a children's storybook. In which the names of other books are written. It was a lot of fun to read. Where did that time go?

[jinjurloaf]

[urdukidsinfoio]

Badshah aur 4 shehzadio ki kahani l Moral kids story l Urdu/Hindi

[horrorstories15]

The Legacy of Frankenstein scary animated Creepy stories in english,

[luiscagreen]

Mountain Story

[bunnyscrypt]

how i envision jason todd in my head + fics i write for him

*.⊹˚🖤 ‧₊˚

starting off with looks; it depends on which version of him i’m thinking of. comic!jason: i fluctuate between these face claims. i like the michal mrazik face claim and use him for my college!footballer!jason au. in my mind jason has a hooked nose (those nose shapes are so beautiful and i love them)plus a scar on his cheek + neck

his hair: black with a white streak. keeps it short but grows it out & usually just wears it down but will tie it back sometimes.

body type: strong arms with a lil pudgy tummy . my baby is thick okay! he’s 6’4!!

jason has a lot! of tattoos. all over his abdomen and chest. an almost full sleeve. one i’ll mention is the taif rose near his heart with a ribbon that says “ummi jaan” dedicated to talia (my favourite one). his tattoos dedicated to you.

his style: very much so contemporary faunlet vibes. lots of reds and blacks. green too. he’s very simple laid back. sweatshirts and sweaters. boxy 90s cut leather jackets. jean jackets. skinny jeans and cargo pants. black or grey sweatpants on lazy fays. likes muscle tees and graphic tees. wears a lot of rings and a couple necklaces (a simple chain & cord necklaces). will throw on a random hat from time to time. wears simple shoes: doc marten boots.

bonus: drives a matte black yamaha yzf-r3 sports bike. speaks arabic and urdu. his favourite hobbies include collecting knives, listening to music (he’s a metal head), thrifting, fixing cars and motorcycles, long drives, gift giving as a love language, horror movies and action movies (the kingsman movies in specific), cemetery dates, gun ranges, reading, eating, kissing, hand kisses, cuddling, giving back love bites, getting tattoos, playing sports, acoustic guitar, going to shows, hanging out with duke, baking, sunsets, writing, and many many more.. <3

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

˗ˏˋ street food date ´ˎ˗

(isn’t that just the most creative title :D)

requested by very a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous <3

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India) x Fem!Pakistani!Reader

Type: Oneshot - Fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: terms of endearment, mentions of food & eating, usage of Hindi (translations provided), I don’t speak Urdu so it’s google-translated 😭

A/N: Reader speaks Urdu and Pavi (canonically) speaks Hindi. Since both languages are pretty similar in terms of speaking, at least from what I’ve observed, let’s assume that they can understand each other fairly easily :)

I absolutely LOVED writing this omg it was such a cute request! Sorry it took me so long so do this, I was so busy that I completely forgot abt all my reqs for a while 😅

Btw this was barely proofread so if there are mistakes no there aren’t <3

“Meri jaan, you’re spilling it.”

You turned at the familiar voice, just barely managing to balance a paper plate in your hands with an absurd amount of dahi papadi chaat piled onto it.

“You’re late,” You noted, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling like a lovestruck idiot as Pavitr approached you, flashing that dazzling, slightly crooked grin that had your heart stumbling and falling over your mind trying to make sense of it all. You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying your best to cross your arms without dropping the food on the plate.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. But you know that juggling my… duties and timings are hard,” He dipped his head slightly to make you look at him, brushing a small piece of papdi off your kurta. God, he was so annoying sometimes. His eyes were so soft and irresistible and he knew it.

“Come on, look at me,” He said teasingly, stepping forward slightly and grinning as you glanced up at him, then immediately frowned at your lack of willpower when it came to him. “There she is.”

You felt a smile break through so you set down the paper plate on a nearby ledge, leaning forward to wrap him in a hug and bury your face in his clothes. “Arre, you’re insufferable,” You mumbled, to which he let out a small chuckle and effortlessly picked you up to spin you around despite your little yelp of surprise.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m sure that’s why you came out here on a date with me to have street food, right? Let’s go, meri dhoop. No use of you being all sad right now, naa? Look, there’s even pani puri a few stalls down.”

You almost got whiplash from how fast you turned your head to look, your eyes widening in excitement as all previous thoughts were forgotten. “You should’ve mentioned that earlier!”

Pavitr laughed, the easy chuckle - as cliché as it sounded - practically music to your ears as you grabbed his hand and took off, leading him to the pani puri vendor. “I knew that’d cheer you up.”

One shared paper plate of (admittedly quite messy) pani puri and a whole skewer of seekh kebab later, you leaned against a ledge overlooking the Mumbattan bridge right next to a whole row of new vendors. Pavitr wrapped an arm a little too tightly around your shoulders, nervously measuring the distance you would fall if you tripped.

“Pavi, relax, I won’t fall,” You gave him a reassuring smile, and he breathed out slowly before giving you a slightly strained smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. Spider-Man stuff. Lots of, uh… bad things happen. Usually near large drops.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation. Sensing his discomfort, you moved away from the railing back into the middle of the cobblestones.

“I’m going to braid your hair,” You declared suddenly to ease the tension in the air, examining the smooth waves that framed his face, pushed back slightly with his blue headband. His eyes widened in horror at your statement. “Wait, what? No! I said I was sorry for coming late! I’ll do my absolute best to come on time, I promise!”

“I’m not that rough,” You protested, scrunching your eyebrows as he cupped his warm hands over your cheeks. “Of course not, meri jaan. You’re so gentle, my hair definitely doesn’t feel like it’s being sent to an early grave.”

“Aap drama baghair kisi wajah ke bana rahay hain.” (You are making drama for no reason) You frowned at him and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Kabhi nahin! Mei achcha vajeh se drama karta hoon. …Uff, thik hai, tum mere baalon ko tod sakte hain. Lekin… pehle ise kha leh.” (Never! I do drama for good reasons. ..Okay, fine, you can tear my hair out. But first… eat this.)

He held up a plate of vada pav, his smile growing as your eyes lit up again, the familiar scent bringing back memories of sitting in your grandparents’ house and watching them cook, masala-infused aromas wafting through the kitchen from the large utensils.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You wondered aloud as you started stuffing your face with the nostalgic dish. Your tone was lighthearted and playful, but it had a few traces of the underlying truth. You were so, so lucky to have him, and you knew it.

You could see it every time he dramatically presented you with some knickknack or the other that he picked up along the way, handing it to you with a bashful ‘it made me think of you.’ You could see it every time he adjusted your dupatta, every time you caught him staring at you with round, loving, awestruck eyes as if you were the very centre of the cosmos itself.

And when he smiled at everyone it was usually genuine, sure, but you had a special kind of smile reserved for your eyes alone. One that made the small dimples at the corners of his mouth even more noticeable, one that made him scrunch his nose subconsciously with how wide he was smiling.

The kind of smile he was using right now. And oh, good grief, you were so far gone for him. He was so effortlessly gorgeous it actually hurt - wavy hair swept to one side behind his headband, brown eyes turning gold in the sun, the light dappling his face and flicking tiny spots of shadow onto his skin.

“Tum bohat khobsorat ho,” (You’re so beautiful) You whispered, completely spellbound. Pavitr blinked in surprise, his smile turning slightly shy. “Arrey, tum mujhe bahut zyaada phlait karte ho.” (You flatter me too much)

“No, really!” You insisted, tapping the tip of his nose with your pinky and laughing when he scrunched it instinctively. “You’re very pretty, you know that? Mera khobsorat ladka. Pretty, pretty boy.” (My beautiful boy)

“Aap adhik sundar hai.” (You’re more beautiful) Without warning, he gently grabbed your torso and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. You looped your arms around to meet behind his shoulder blades, resting your chin in the crook of his neck.

You were scared to move, to disturb the silent peacefulness of it all, but you wanted to tell him something that would hopefully put his worries to rest.

“You know I won’t leave you, right? I won’t be your… what is it, canon event? Whatever that is.”

At the words ‘canon event’, Pavitr flinched as if he had been burned, his eyes wide and searching as he looked at you. “What? Where did that come from? And how-”

“Okay, listen, so it’s kinda my fault,” You began, choosing your words so as to not agitate him any further. “But you know how you said I could read your journal, because basically every embarrassing thing you’ve written is you being lovesick for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” He covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, messing up his hair in the process.

“Anyway, uh… you left it open on your drawer and I maybe kind of accidentally looked through the last entry. But only because I was worried. You’d been acting stressed out the whole day, remember? I’m sorry!”

“I don’t… hmm, actually, that’s pretty sweet that you were worried. I appreciate it.” He lifted his head to meet your eyes, almost smiling before his face crumpled again. “Hang on, what else did you see? Oh, god, did you see the whole page of poems I wrote? No, wait, hear me out! In my defence, I was absolutely whipped for you. I still am, but-”

“Pavi?”

“Yeah?”

“Ai, meri mohabbat. Chup ho jao. Mujhe lagta hai ke yeh dilkash hai,” (My love. Shush. I think it’s adorable) You reassured him, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose before moving in to press a soft kiss to his lips, an attempt at putting his worries and ramblings to rest.

That shut him up pretty well.

Please know that I am not Pakistani! I tried my best to write this, but if there is anything I’ve gotten wrong, please let me know and I’ll be happy to change it. <3

Meri jaan - my life

Meri dhoop - My sunshine/my sun

A kurta is a loose, collarless type of shirt worn by people in South Asia. It usually extends up to or just past the knee.

A dupatta is a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, by women from South Asia.

Papdi chaat (or papri chaat) is crispy fried-dough wafers served with typical chaat ingredients such as chickpeas, boiled potatoes, yogurt sauce, and tamarind and coriander chutneys; it may also contain pomegranate seeds. Dahi papdi chaat is the same thing, but more yoghurt is used (dahi means yoghurt/curd).

Pani puri is a popular Indian snack consisting of fried puff-pastry balls filled with spiced mashed potato (the puri), spiced water, and tamarind juice (the pani).

Seekh kebab is a type of kebab made with Indian spices, spiced, minced or ground meat, usually lamb or chicken, formed into cylinders on skewers and grilled.

Tags: @hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

My Nan, who was born just after WWI in Wales to Welsh parents, used to tell us stories of how kids caught speaking Welsh were made to hold a rubber band in their teeth which was then stretched and let go. Curiously, this made her very anti-Welsh. She married a navy lad at sixteen to rid herself of her Welsh name and get out of the country, and never spoke to her parents again. This wasn't a 'horrors of colonialism' story, but rather a proposed solution when she found out there were Pakistani kids in my class that spoke A Foreign Language and had taught me some words of Urdu. We didn't see her often, probably for lots of good reasons, but at least partly because she held my mother in complete contempt for not only leaving a good steady job to go to university, but doing it in Aberystwyth. I only knew her as a mean old lady and maybe she always would have been but I'd be interested to know how she might have grown up to be if she hasn't been taught to be ashamed of where she came from.

...huh. I've never heard the rubber band trick. The cane for the Welsh Not, but not this one.

God, it's depressing though, isn't it? We all react to trauma in different ways. My mother's step-mother sounds very similar; technically from North Wales, but Jesus you wouldn't know it, and she's a screaming asshole. My grandfather was as English as they come, and tried to pay my father to leave my mother after my sister was born because "No grand-daughter of mine is growing up Welsh." (I would have been a tremendous disappointment if he'd lived to see me grow up, lol.) The wicked step-mother was fully in agreement.

We lost so many people to the whole thing

[hayatheauthor]

Arab/Desi Writing Prompts Part 5

Hear me out-

We've all seen those soulmate tattoo writing prompts where their soulmate's name appears as a tattoo on their wrist/they have a matching symbol tattoo on their wrist.

BUT what if this was Desi?

We already have a huge tradition about hiding your partner's name in your mehndi and they have to find it before the night ends. So what if we combined this tradition with the soulmate trope?

Even better- what if it was enemies to lovers? Scenario inspo:

The once joyful female protagonist stares at her wrist in horror as she realises the name forming in her mehndi pattern was that of her enemy.

She feels horrified and knows she has to hide her hand for the rest of the night, because if he sees it, they're bound for life (this also stems from our actual tradition, which states you're meant to be together if he finds his name).

The night is almost over and she is convinced she can leave the function hall and forget all about the name on her wrist, but suddenly someone catches her wrist, tugging on it and pulling her along with them.

She's ready to scream out and protest, but that's before she realises her assailant is none other than her enemy. Who is staring at his name with wide eyes.

A mere stare from him makes his name darker than the rest of her mehndi, sealing their fate.

(Protagonist name) was now bound to spend the rest of her life with (antagonist). The very man she was sworn to kill.

Extra points:

His name could be written in Hindi/Urdu depending on your characters' ethnicities.

You can also do this with Arab characters, but instead of mehndi you'd have to use henna, which is what they call mehndi.

You don't have to follow the 'plot' I created above. Maybe she finds out the name is of someone who is supposed to be dead. Maybe she thought the name would be her bf's but it's actually his brother's/best friend's/her ex.

Maybe it's HER best friend. Sapphic writing prompt 👀

You could either have the mehndi manifest on their hands at a certain age or have it happen at a certain date.

Prompt Masterlist

[lilacmuse]

On Finding Beauty in a Burning World || May 2024

Sometimes, when the world is especially full of chaos, i almost wish i could slip away and live inside an Ivan Aivazovsky painting for a while. I wish the blues of the ocean could wash over me, drenching me permanently in color and serenity; that i could kiss the sky like brushstrokes tenderly kissing a canvas, get utterly lost in the unimpeachable tranquility of nature as captured through the eyes of a man madly in love with the beauty of creation. Aivazovsky, too, witnessed atrocities in his time that broke his heart, including the massacre of his own people. But despite the horrors he saw, they say he had the ability to look at the ocean once and capture its beauty entirely from memory, as though his heart could somehow remember exactly how the light would hit the water, and which shades of blue would most perfectly capture the ethereal essence of the sea.

I'm the girl who is known for writing about beauty, but my words have been scant lately; beauty becomes difficult to express in a world where genocide is unfolding with seemingly no end. I've been wanting to write for weeks about how much i love my baby nieces- how their smiles and the sun are indistinguishable in warmth and brightness, how we occasionally look at each other and instantly erupt into giggles so uncontrollable, we fall into a heap of silliness- but then i think about the mothers and fathers in Gaza and Rafah who have watched their children starve and burn to death, and my ink runs dry, and i find it difficult to speak or write.

I've always reveled in the process of finding and creating beauty- my raison d'etre since childhood- but these past eight months have been exceptionally heavy. There's a genocide raging in Palestine, famine looming over Sudan, and never-ending horrors unfolding in Congo that have kept me up at night since i was 17... At times like this, i rest my head on my prayer rug and tell God that it's His turn to speak about the beauty; my fragile heart is tired, and there's no one i can talk to but Him about how much it hurts to be alive to see such things.

His answers come in the form of soft mornings spent planting kisses on my newborn niece's tiny feet as she coos and stares up at me with the sweetest eyes i've ever seen, sitting my vivacious 2-year-old niece on the counter as we make breakfast together and she babbles excitedly in her signature blend of baby Urdu and gibberish, or rubs her nose against mine to express affection like a cat. Some days, the answer lies in making my nieces laugh, and feeling my heart become reborn through the sweet music of their giggles. Or wandering through a forest rustling with the sounds of mysterious creatures at twilight, marveling at the sight of burgeoning waterfalls pouring into a gleaming river, then gazing up at a sky full of stars in pure, astonished wonder with my equally awestruck brother.

It isn't sustainable to spend every moment ruminating on the unbearable pain of the world, so i try my best to assuage my grief like this as often as i can: with a balanced diet of wonder, joy, and reverence for every instance of beauty i can find.

While i was still in Arizona, i watched a few episodes of Virgin River, which seemed like the ideal dose of wholesome sweetness my mind has needed lately, and oh my goodness... The scenery is so, so beautiful- i think i could watch the entire show on mute just for the scenery alone. If i could move to a beautiful little town near a lake nestled in the mountains, i don't think i'd ever complain again; i'd look out my window every morning and live out my days in a never-ending state of gratitude and bliss. But i know what God would say to that: it isn't about where you are in the world, or what the scenery is like- it's up to you to make a place beautiful. He endowed us with that power when He made us His khulafa on earth. An open heart perceives beauty everywhere; a willing heart creates it.

Every day, my heart awaits the era when all the oppressed people of the world will finally be free. If i live to see that day, i'll have to invent a new language to convey my joy, because my heart will finally be free to experience the collective bliss of humanity's happiness, instead of its pain. Before i die, i dream of being kept awake by the world's joy instead of its anguish. I experience a taste of that feeling every time i'm with the people i love most, but my own happiness isn't enough- i want joy for everyone. I don't know if i'll be alive when that time comes, but i will never stop praying for and waiting for it. I'll never stop rebuilding my optimism and rekindling the fires of my hope, and i'll never stop thanking Him for the rare moments of beauty still to be found in this wounded, burning world.

x r

[clockworkbee]

Love how Holly Black takes the most obvious and typical plots from fairytales and then twists them in her books, only to then end them at some absolutely cliché scene 🤌🏼

I am sorry, which ones? I cant see them in Holly Black books

Hmm. Okay.

I’ll start by clarifying (for you, anon, and anyone else who comes across this post) that when I say fairy tale, I don’t just mean the Beauty and the Beast category, I also mean those children books like Goldilocks and Pinnochio etc. as well as the many stories I've never read but heard from my dad or grandmother in my childhood (in urdu—not that they’re relevant in this post) and I’ll tell you why I thought so/saw (see) it as quoted in your ask, but just because I did doesn’t mean everyone would—and this isn’t to convince you either (but it low-key is, lol)

SPOILER WARNING: the books mentioned in this post may or may not contain minor/major spoilers about the plot but do include more information than the synopsis so if you haven’t read Holly Black’s books and would prefer knowing as little as possible before going in, I think it’s best you save this post for later <3

The Folk of the Air: My first books by the author were tfota, and the world, plot, and characters were quite refreshing to read, but then on my first read, when I read about the prophecy and the curse within the series, it hit me that within this ‘faerie’ story was an aspect of the ‘fairy’ ones, kinda like ‘beauty and the beast,’ ‘a cursed prince turned into a frog,’ or another that's mentioned in the 3rd book, but then, the way to break the curse was not so typical in my opinion, and I loved that. And of course there’s the famous parallels between Jude and Alice from Alice in the Wonderland; a human girl in a fantasy land where she doesn’t belong. (If you’re interested, you might like how it’s shown here by @rosiethorns88 and the third and second last paragraphs written here by @sensenoi unless you’re interested in reading the whole post, that is) As for the cliché ending here, I think those cheesy, happy dialogues in tqon are exactly that.

The Darkest Part of the Forest: in this standalone (which I wished so hard that I’d read before tfota), there’s a prince who’s banished and (I think, can’t remember, sorry) also cursed to sleep. So again, this was like Aurora sleeping after pricking her finger or Snow White after biting the apple, however, the way to wake up that prince wasn’t his true love’s kiss and he doesn’t love the person who finally breaks him free either, so I kinda liked that twist; the boy getting the prince instead of the girl. (You know, like a change of perspective in a fairytale retelling such as Maleficent’s pov showing love instead of hate for Aurora, I guess)

The Modern Faerie Tales (Tithe + Ironside): the story of a faerie raised as a human finding herself lucky enough to earn power over a royal faerie. For this ship, there was this storyline of ‘win your love by completing a quest’ and that’s what felt fairytale-like to me. Only, it was a bit twisted because faeries can’t lie, and that made the quest tricky.

The Modern Faerie Tales (Valiant): In this one, the ship and the insta-love were kinda it (fairytale-like), but then there was this scene where the girl almost lost the one she loved and the way she tried to delay that happening and then saved him was what actually hit like a Faerie fairytale to me.

The Stolen Heir (duology): sooo, I loved how the story started with a girl wishing for more in her life, wishing for magic, and then in a way, having that wish come true, only it’s a Holly Black story so of course magic only mostly brings horrors instead of sparkles, leaving one of the most common messages/warnings from fairy tales, ‘be careful what you wish for.’ I also loved that our fmc was made of sticks and snow, which again, is something I’d heard before in a fairy tale as a kid (I think it’s also mentioned in a grishaverse short story, the witch one? I don't actually remember, but yeah.) The twist added here was that, unlike those stories I heard where a girl who was made this way could be unmade by other people just as easily ‘if someone did this or that,’ (or maybe it’s still a part of the books, I can’t recall), Holly made Suren extremely powerful and almost invincible, and I loved that a lot. (Also, I didn’t see the Snow White story stuff here until I read this post by @of-the-way-and-wildflowers , but after reading it, I definitely do see it, and absolutely love it!) The cliché ending here, I suppose, is the way Suren came back?

I hope you got from this the answer you were looking for, anon. I don’t think I ever made a post on how I see fairy tales in these books before, so thanks a lot for this ask!

—bee 💗

[purplesimmer455]

list 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore ʚ♡ɞ

I feel bad for answering this super late, like months late but thanks for the asl. 😄😅

5 facts about Iseul Kang:

Despite not wanting to have kids, she’s very family oriented and loves to spend time with her nieces Cam and Cece as well as her brother Min Jun and his wife Paenji. Now, her niece Cece is grown up and married, so she has 2 great-nieces, Nguyêt and Lily Iseul (named after her).

She was born in Willow Creek to Dae Hyun and Nari Kang and grew up wandering around the lakes and woods catching frogs and running around as her older brother kept an eye on her, and going fishing with her mom every Saturday and cooking and baking with her dad every Sunday. 

Despite her love of spooky horror movies, she’s also easily scared by it and loves to snuggle up to her fiancée Grace Siddiqui whenever they watch something scary together. She once watched the Grudge* with her friend Megan Liao and spent a few nights glued to Grace’s side.

She speaks Korean (having been taught from a young age by her parents) as well as a bit of Mandarin she learned from Megan, some German from when she was living in Windenburg and a bit of Urdu that she learned from her fiancée Grace.

Speaking of, she loves to travel. She loves going to places she’s unfamiliar with and just exploring and getting to see it from a local”s point of view. Plus, she loves trying the food and checking out the culture. She’s lived in Windenburg for 6 months, Tomarang for 2 months, and Selvadorada for 5 months.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

[shatteredconstellationsart]

"Anar"- Part One

Part 1 of a three-part series I'm doing! Thought it'd be fun to try and do more storytelling through art. I really like how the pomegranate and candle came out, but not so much the knife and hands- I was gonna put mehndi on her fingers and then I forgot :(

"Anar" means pomegranate in Urdu. I don't want to spoil the story cause everything will make sense when I finish the other two parts and put all three together, but I wanted to do something a bit more gothic/horror.. which this piece may not seem like.. yet :)

[sinceileftyoublog]

SILY's Top Albums of 2023

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Another year of settling into "the new normal" in the music world, for better or for worse, still brought us great records. The underground NYC hip hop scene burst with creativity. Rock and Roll Hall of Famers reinvented old songs. Stalwarts of experimental music, contemporary jazz, and modern-day blues released their career bests. Even archivists had their day. Below are 16 great albums released last year and 6 more honorable mentions no less worthy of inclusion--I just didn't have time to write about them.

Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)

It's all in the title: on their sixth album, billy woods and E L U C I D navigate through a society where not only is shit that should be free, expensive, but a secondhand market encourages hustlers to make a profit. Amidst capitalist corruption and individualism, the threat of an AI takeover and close calls getting caught with drugs, both emcees face the bleakness while occasionally imagining a better world. As always, the victories are small, but mighty: good weed ("Woke Up And Asked Siri How I'm Gonna Die"), morally righteous laundromat owners ("When It Doesn't Start With A Kiss"), the freedom to bask in schadenfreude ("Niggardly (Blocked Call)"). And yes, it takes a lot for two slow lurching wordsmiths to rise above production from the likes of JPEGMAFIA, DJ Haram, and EL-P, always-inspired samples ranging from E-40 to Sun Ra and Japanese rock band Ghost, and features from Pink Siifu, Junglepussy, and Moor Mother. But they deftly connect the dots from centuries ago to now, presenting societal dysfunction as a core component of our country and world. "George Washington's heart a frozen river, boy / Opps in the backwoods, slave teeth in the mouth when he say ni**a," woods raps, as if to shock you out of complacency and make you numb to the horrors at the same time.

Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, & Shahzad Ismaily - Love In Exile (Verve)

It's hard to believe that Love In Exile, the first collaboration between singer Arooj Aftab, legendary jazz pianist Vijay Iyer, and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily, was recorded live with minimal overdubs. Then again, it's clear there's something special brewing within the trio, who first performed together in 2018. That is, the way in which each performer enters and exits and weaves within another is as natural as it is stunning. On Love In Exile, Aftab sings in Urdu--the sound of her words mattering just as much if not more than their meaning--and Iyer plays piano and electronics, Ismaily bass and Moog. The result is an interplay between beauty and dissonance, minimalism and swells of noise, intimacy and grandiosity. Iyer's piano seems like it's increasingly sure of itself on opener "To Remain/To Return" as Aftab's smoky voice resembles a soulful, mournful reed. Ismaily's bass is slow-lurching and rounded throughout, the steady presence that only so much ripples on songs like "Eye of the Endless" as Aftab and Iyer provide contrast in timbre. Love In Exile is the type of album born out of a moment; yet, it gives seemingly endless pathways in which to get lost.

Arthur Russell - Picture of Bunny Rabbit (Audika)

Throughout Picture of Bunny Rabbit, Arthur Russell’s voice is as much of an instrument as his bowed cello, fading in and out on “Not Checking Up”, “Telling No On”, and “Very Reason”. The mysterious aura of Russell comes from both not knowing what’s out there and, on the music we do know exists, being unable to tell what he’s saying or what instruments he’s using. A rubbery whooshing pervades “The Boy With a Smile” and “In The Light of a Miracle”. The 8-minute title track sees dissonant cello disintegrating in real time, unfurling like tape over feedback squalls to the point where it sounds like a MIDI version of a guitar solo. At the same time, Russell always knew when to surface. The harmonica on “The Boy With a Smile” creates a rootsy tactility, the controlled chaos of his string playing yielding free percussion. Russell’s vocals rapidly shuffle on “In The Light of a Miracle”, though they’re as clear as ever, contrasting his sticky cello, plainly borrowing rhythms from Indian classical music.

Read the rest of our review here.

billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps (BackwoodzStudioz)

The prolific billy woods’ second album with beat mastermind Kenny Segal is centered around touring, inspired by the idea that the road–or the lack of home–is, in itself, home. On Maps, places where people reside are as constantly changing as the landscapes that pass as you’re on the highway. It’s the perfect fodder for woods’ neuroses and pessimism, the low thoughts that occur when you have too much time on your hands but still can’t make sense of your surroundings. He’s constantly searching for stimuli–weed, food, drinks–to distract himself from the human condition. Like the titular “Houdini”, Woods escapes, even if temporarily.

Read the rest of our review of Maps here.

Bob Dylan - Shadow Kingdom (Columbia)

It wasn't just Taylor Swift rerecording their own catalog in 2023. As part of the soundtrack to Alma Har'el's 2021 film Shadow Kingdom: The Early Songs of Bob Dylan, the Bard himself gave us his new versions of old tracks, mostly his Dylan's 60s heyday, save for a new instrumental. Notably, it's his Dylan's record with a band with no drums or percussion, and it's a mystery who played on it, as there are no official credits. It's also his first album of new studio recordings since 2020 opus Rough and Rowdy Ways, so naturally, he leads off with a reflective "When I Paint My Masterpiece". In general, his arrangements are more gentle, from the swirling harmonicas and trailing strums of "Queen Jane Aproximately" to the bluesy, tempo-changing "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight". "Tombstone Blues" comes across like a spooky tale, slowed down, as opposed to the ramshackle stream of consciousness of the original, while the eerie and mournful "What Was It You Wanted" is a revelatory adaptation of the late 80's classic. And "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" shuffles along with a calypso groove, almost as if it's a tribute to the late Jimmy Buffett. He may not be doing it to regain the rights to his own songs, but on Shadow Kingdom, Dylan asserts that there's value in revisiting old friends.

Drive-By Truckers - The Complete Dirty South (New West)

The Complete Dirty South is us an opportunity to listen with 2023 ears to a 2004 album that’s truer than ever. The rich still get away with doing illegal things (“Where the Devil Don’t Stay”), increasingly intense weather patterns still devastate the poorest of communities (“Tornadoes”), and government austerity policies still force people to work longer hours, for lower pay (the incendiary “Putting People on the Moon”.) When Patterson Hood sings, “Motherfucker in the White House said a change was comin’ round / But I’m workin’ at the Walmart, Mary Alice in the ground,” it’s the much more realistic, downtrodden version of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” a sharpshooting lyricist’s analysis of the devastating consequences of incrementalism, let alone inaction.

Read our preview of two Drive-By Truckers solo shows from December.

GOLD DIME - No More Blue Skies (No-Gold)

With No More Blue Skies, Andrya Ambro, the former half of No Wave-inspired Brooklyn indie rock duo Talk Normal has delivered the most distilled statement of her artistry to date. Combining her classical training and ethnomusicological studies as a drummer with the hammering intensity of her live performance, the album is a examination of contrast, an exercise in presenting ambiguous questions and smashing them to see if any answers lie within.

Read our review of GOLD DIME's career-best.

jaimie branch - Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die (​(​world war​)​) (International Anthem)

Though the late trumpeter and composer jaimie branch’s third album Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) is a final statement, it’s even more effective as an eternal one. It begins with keyboards that sound like church organs, an eerily somber sonic manifestation of irrevocability. As Chad Taylor’s rolling drums enter, branch gives us one of her trademark trumpet blares, as if to announce, “I’m here.” She wasn’t one to spend much more time announcing her presence, though–the track segues into an Afro-Latin style jam, clacking percussion and horns in line with Lester St. Louis’ nervy bowed cello. ((world war)) from then on spends most of its runtime just the way branch liked it, in a groove, with some breaks along the way to remind us of the urgency of the moment.

Read our review of Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)).

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit - Weathervanes (Southeastern/Thirty Tigers)

Over the past few years, Jason Isbell’s had a lot of time to think. Pandemic and lockdown-induced isolation made us all spend a bit more time between our ears, and for Isbell, it was his experience on set for Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon that yielded even more alone time. These spaces in between catalyzed the creation of Weathervanes. Like Isbell’s best records, Weathervanes tackles many areas of life, from getting older and grappling with regret and depression to existing in an increasingly fraught and vulnerable world. What makes it succeed most is the extent to which he relied on his collaborators to make it, purportedly inspired by watching none other than Scorsese seek out the opinions of others while filming Flower Moon.

Read our preview of Isbell & the 400 Unit's show in Joliet last March.

JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown - Scaring the Hoes (AWAL)

JPEGMAFIA's called SCARING THE HOES a “practice album,” made with the SP-404–no Pro Tools–after learning it for a year. It certainly has that loose quality you’d think, alongside the exact amount of chaos you’d expect from the debut full-length join-up from him and Danny Brown. Of course, Peggy finds kinship in the deep cuts and the underground, from the underappreciated Bun B to old soul and funk, Japanese pop, and gospel. The samples and production are inspired. At the same time, Peggy knows he’s your favorite Twitter follow’s favorite rapper, so the title itself, referring to something a Very Online Man would say who thinks his taste is too esoteric for women, is tongue-in-cheek. “How the fuck we supposed to make money of this shit?” Peggy asks on the title track. “You wanna be an MC? What the fuck you think, it’s 1993?” The only thing better than effortless tempo changes, switches on a dime from maximalism to dreamy instrumentation, is self-awareness of his own idiosyncrasies. Bonus points for “God Loves You”, which juxtaposes a guttural, spirited gospel sample with the filthiest lyrics on the album.

Read our preview of Pitchfork Music Festival 2023, containing JPEGMAFIA, here.

Matana Roberts - Coin Coin Chapter Five: In The Garden... (Constellation)

On the 5th of their 12 planned Coin Coin albums, saxophone master Matana Roberts tells the story of an ancestor who died after complications from a self-inflicted abortion. Though it's a tragic story, Roberts reclaims the narrative and casts it as part of a wider tale of institutional racism, sexism, and classism. Songs with spoken word are interspersed throughout instrumental expressions of sounds as tangible as tin whistle and as abstract as synth, structures at times free and at times delving even into rock, let alone jazz bops. Each detail of story included is clearly intentional, meant to paint a picture of Roberts' ancestor while portraying their story as not unique. Roberts' spoken word--closer to voice acting, even--is incredible, as they repeat in varying levels of genuineness, "Well, they didn't know I was electric, alive, spirited, fired and free / My spirit overshadowing, my dreams to bombastic / My eyes too sparkling, my laughter too true." Their saxophone is expressive, yet mournful, providing motifs of lamentation and hope at once. On the penultimate "for they do not know", Roberts layers and repeats the album's main refrain, "My name is your name, our name is their name / We are named / We remember, they forget," as if to emphasize the prevalence of their ancestor's story throughout history. And closer "...ain't i...your mystery is our history" juxtaposes Western and African traditions, pointedly demonstrating that the evils brought upon their ancestor are rooted in colonialism and Western hegemony rather than a standalone calamity.

Robert Finley - Black Bayou (Easy Eye Sound)

Seven years into his improbable comeback, Robert Finley views his role as a singer and entertainer as twofold: meeting the audience at the heart while simultaneously giving them advice, telling them the barebones truth when other authority figures won’t. On Black Bayou, he reckons with ideas of homesickness and loneliness, lust and love, selflessness and salvation. Buoyed by longtime collaborator Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, Finley wrote all of the songs in the studio, and his familiarity with his supporting cast of musicians resulted in songs that were both efficiently recorded and emotionally acute. Kenny Brown’s guitar winces with longing on “Livin’ Out A Suitcase” as Finley’s tired of traveling. On “Waste Of Time”, a song that sees Finley taking pride in rural living even if it means missing out on opportunities provided by cities, the buzz-saw guitars and Jeffrey Clemens’ clattering percussion yield a perfect maximalism to go along with Finley’s claims that, yes, there’s still a lot to digest right outside your doorstep.

Read our interview with Finley about Black Bayou here.

Sunny War - Anarchist Gospel (New West)

Sunny War battles self-destruction throughout Anarchist Gospel; in the lead-up to its release, she spoke about her music representing a battle between that side of herself and the one trying to make things better. On “New Day”, she uses the language of addiction to wax on love, hurt, and obsession: “Believing in magic can be tragic / I’m love’s junkie, I’m love’s addict.” One of the record’s true standouts is “I Got No Fight”, where pained guitars and screaming organs exemplify Sunny’s desire for the days to end, depression that buzzes like a fly in her ear. On the gorgeous country tune “His Love”, she sings of an unhealthy relationship, “His love fades, my love grows,” and the timbres of her voice and the instruments similarly diverge, her lurking deep vocal register contrasting the spryness of the backing vocals, guitars, and pattering drums.

Read our review of Anarchist Gospel.

Various Artists - Tell Everybody! (21st Century Juke Joint Blues From Easy Eye Sound) (Easy Eye Sound)

For the better part of the past decade, Dan Auerbach's Easy Eye Sound recording studio and record label has showcased some of the best in contemporary blues music, from various regions across the country and spanning sub-genres. Tell Everybody!, the label's latest compilation, makes the case that a current crop of songwriters, vocalists, and instrumentalists are making essential wartime-style juke joint blues numbers. It's comprised of alternate versions of songs from past Easy Eye Sound albums (Jimmy "Duck" Holmes' version of "Catfish Blues", Leo Bud Welch's glistening "Don't Let the Devil Ride"), posthumously released offerings from idiosyncratic legends like James Gang/Pacific Gas & Electric/All Saved Freak Band guitarist Glenn Schwartz, and strong statements from up and comers like Detroit Dobro-drummer duo Moonrisers, Chicago's Gabe Carter, and Kentucky picker Nat Myers. Auerbach even finds room for new songs from himself and The Black Keys, who sound better than they have in years by embracing the drippy psychedelia of their early material on "No Lovin'". And performing the title track (and baring teeth on the cover) is Robert Finley, whose daughter Christy Johnson delivers smooth gospel backing vocals to contrast Auerbach and Kenny Brown's searing guitars, the multi-generational sound of past, present, and future.

Wednesday - Rat Saw God (Dead Oceans)

“Hot Rotten Grass Smell”, the opening track to Wednesday's incredible Rat Saw God, immediately juxtaposes country guitars with shoegaze squall. Songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Karly Hartzman references Smog’s “The Well” before turning inward to a bleak vision: “Your closet froze after you left / Except the people who took your shirts / Closed off your door with yellow tape / Saw myself dead at the end of a staircase.” The song ends with a sudden cut to field recordings of peepers. Heartbreak, anxiety, life, death, both the natural environment and the concrete depression of the South. It’s all there for Hartzman’s poetry, and no moment is too small or too ordinary for worship.

Read our review of Rat Saw God.

Willie Nelson - I Don't Know A Thing About Love: The Songs of Harlan Howard (Legacy)

Part of me thinks living legend Willie Nelson would rather continue paying tribute to his forebears than do anything else. The late Harlan Howard essentially gave Nelson his first break after hearing some original tunes, signing him to the Pamper publishing imprint in the early 60's. Of course, last year, Nelson would go on to celebrate a 90th birthday and be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, while Howard, who passed away in 2002, is still mostly known behind the scenes, writing songs that would become immortalized by Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings, Ray Charles, and Brenda Lee. So leave it to Nelson to present Howard's best songs, with minimal arrangements, to emphasize the brilliance of his songwriting, the devastating simplicity of lines like "I'm about as helpless as a leaf in a gale." Nelson leads a stellar backing band through blues stomps ("Excuse Me (I Think I've Got A Heartache)", a screaming version of "Busted") and plaintive and empathetic waltzes ("Life Turned Her That Way"), exemplifying a three chords and the truth philosophy appropriate for all moods and experiences.

Honorable Mentions:

Bob Dylan - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17: Fragments - Time Out Of Mind Sessions 1996-1997 (Columbia/Legacy)

The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore (Merge)

Daniel Bachman - When The Roses Come Again (Three Lobed)

Danny Brown - Quaranta (Warp)

Gazelle Twin - Black Dog (Invada)

Lonnie Holley - Oh Me Oh My (Jagjaguwar)