#i fucking love this like. scratchy guitar in the background

[unknownarmageddon]

daily hozier!!

YOOOO

[sonorous-strings]

Damn.

Sonar rubbed his eyes blearily, trying to will some energy into getting off the couch in his studio. It was getting hard to sleep alone these days. Sonar would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling just a touch uneasy about Carol and Lilac spending the night together, but that was old wounds itching and nothing rational. Carol said the choice made was him over Lilac, after all. She wouldn't just go back on that the moment she had the opportunity, would she?

No. She was too loyal for that sort of thing.

But the main reason was that he just missed Carol. Being here for a few days working past his own trauma was different. There he wasn't sure about anything, how he felt, none of that. Hence the three days before the fourth day when Neera came to light a fire under his dumb ass and he went back. Well... that wasn't the original intent, but that was the outcome nonetheless.

He stood, groaning. Get up early, get shit g-

There was an obnoxious knocking at his door. "Hellooooooooo," came the almost tauntingly singsong voice of his boss, the Illustrious Mayor Zao. "No, I am not coming in. Sonaaaar, are you awake? I want to make sure everything is running absolutely perfectly tonight, so I'm making the rounds!"

If he had a mug of coffee or something he would've thrown it at the door. It was too early. He checked his clock. Well... it was a few hours before the sound check was supposed to start. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up," he called through the door, his voice still scratchy from sleep. "Don't worry your big hat none, my part of the event will be taken care of, no problem."

"That's absolutely wonderful to hear!" came the muffled approval. "The background entertainers make up a large part of the event, you know! And we have to make sure nothing is left below par once your wildcat wife or whatever gets swept off her throne!"

Sonar glared at the door, his fists clenching so hard he cracked a couple of knuckles. No. Don't grab the guitar. Don't fling the door open and send him off like a fuzzy golf ball-

Deep breath. Zao wasn't stupid enough to directly antagonize people like this. He was getting them worked up for a reason. It had to be. Carol would be so pissed off that she'd fight tooth and nail just to tell him "fuck you".

"Yeah, yeah. You can go now." Oops. He actually hadn't intended to sound that murderous. But Zao's sudden nervousness and fading voice accomplished what he wanted anyway, so... win, he guessed? He shrugged, and sighed.

Oh. Right. He was going to meet up with Carol this morning. Probably bringing Lilac along, too. He stretched, cracked his neck, back, all the things that felt good to crack after sleeping on a couch. Then he'd make his way out to the lobby, towards the food court. That's where they usually met up anyway, before and after the shows.

What with Carol being bi, and the kind of people he knew she admired, he could certainly see why she'd love Lilac the way she did. Hell, does. He knew better than to think Carol would simply stop even after what happened just a month or so ago. She'd just... not act on whatever came to mind. She made her decision, and she'd stick to it.

Right?

Maybe he was just a little nervous about more than irrational feelings.

Sitting outside the Lotus Express, he couldn't help but fidget as the clock ticked by. Minutes turning into tens, then an hour. By then he'd finished his breakfast ("Breakfast of champions!" he'd say) and he went for his phone- fuck. He left it in the studio. But with soundcheck soon there was no point making his way all the way back to his studio for the phone, then all the way back. That was almost double the walk alone. The Battlesphere was a big place, definitely bigger on the inside than it looked.

But she still wasn't here. She said she'd be here, right?

"How about we meet up at the mall, sweetie?" he couldn't help but hear intruding into his head. "And we'll figure out what to do from there."

No, stop it. This was not the same. Carol said so.

He checked his phone for the text he'd gotten back. It'd been over an hour and she still wasn't here. "Sorry, something came up, sweetie!" the text read. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but maybe we could do this tomorrow or something?"

Of course, she'd not counted on seeing him soon after that day while on the arm of one of the other so-called "rising stars" in the area. It had felt like the ground had fell from underneath his feet, like he was in free-fall. It was a betrayal. And the way she'd spoken to him, so different from the previous day. There was... scorn in her voice. Like he was out of her league. And the man she was with just laughed and lorded it up like he'd found a great catch. As if he didn't fucking know.

Turned out he wasn't the only one she supposedly loved. And his love was just a stepping stone. Just a way to pass the time until someone better came along. At what? Everything, apparently. "Gold digger" came to mind, even though he wasn't much of anything by then. He would have laughed about his brain coming up with the term if he wasn't so hobbled by the proverbial knife in his heart.

Sonar didn't even make it to the bed when he got home. He just... sat there, on the floor against it, staring into nothing, really. Not good enough. That's all he was. Sub-par. Not worth the effort.

Sonar couldn't help but lean forward, hands clasped together, mouth pressed into his thumbs. Why was this coming to mind? Just because Carol wasn't showing up? Because he had lingering worries about what Lilac meant to her?

This was fucking stupid. Carol wasn't like her. At all. She'd been the one to admit first that she wanted marriage. True, he wanted it too, but wasn't quite sure if Carol would go for it, so he didn't really say anything about it. His ex had never gone to that length to tell him how much she loved him. Was easier to say "It'd be nice, but..." though.

He closed his eyes, trying to will this all away. He couldn't help but chuckle, a self-deprecating sound. Only girl to love him so much she wanted to marry him, and he let something stupid like ancient history get in the way, almost catastrophically so.

He wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself.

You're a fucking idiot, he told himself. She probably got sidetracked by Zao or something, the little furry shit.

He wiped his eyes of the tears he hadn't realized welled up as he moped on Memory Lane and stood, sniffling. No, this wasn't like before. It's not like he'd find Carol on Lilac's arm or something. It'd be okay this time.

He sighed and started walking towards the arena. Might as well get that soundcheck started so Zao wouldn't be on his ass.

[lovejustforaday]

Sonic Youth Albums Ranked (Part 3)

6. Sister (1987)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock

This is the first LP in the Sonic Youth discography accessible enough to be labelled a true ‘Alternative Rock’ record. It’s still rough around the edges, but Sister is full of catchy hooks and thrilling guitar sounds. I feel like this record and Daydream Nation probably went on to spawn at least 200 new alternative rock bands by the time the 90s came around (not that I was there to see it or anything, just speculation).

Sister deserves a lot of credit for solidifying on tracks like “Catholic Block” and “Stereo Sanctity” what would become the dominant formula for the band’s sound throughout most of the rest of their discography. I think that's part of the reason why this is Sonic Youth’s second most acclaimed and beloved record. Perhaps some fans would even be downright offended that I only put this at #6 on the list, but trust me when I say that this is only because the band has made so many fantastic records. In fact, for most bands, this would easily be their greatest record.

I can still remember the first time I heard the opening to “Schizophrenia”, I had never heard anything quite like it. The guitars sound upbeat yet worn out and dejected, making me feel isolated and almost spiritually weak when I listen to this track, yet somehow also comforted. The song is partially inspired by Kim’s older brother who has schizophrenia, though the roles are reversed in this song with a brother whose sister is schizophrenic. It’s a deeply fascinating and memorable piece, and I can see why many fans consider this to be a top five Sonic Youth track.

Most of the rest of Sister is very scratchy and punkish with some very tight guitar work, like “Catholic Block” which boasts one of my favourite melodic riffs in the Sonic Youth canon. There’s also “Hot Wire My Heart”, another major highlight and a cover of the obscure British punk band Crime, where Sonic Youth takes their song and upgrades the guitars and drums while also adding a bold wall of feedback at the end.

Then there’s “Pacific Coast Highway”, a completely sickening song and one of Kim’s very finest moments as a lyricist and vocalist. This haunting noise rock jumble tells the story of either a unhinged stranger, or perhaps a resentful ex-lover, who is obsessively catcalling the listener from their car, with the not-so-subtle implication that you’re all by yourself somewhere and that this person intends to harm you. I have no idea if this was written about a personal experience, but I do know from listening to their voices that this is something many women have either gone through or live in perpetual fear of. Seriously fucked up stuff, but also one of Sonic Youth’s very best tracks.

"Cotton Crown” is an odd one out in the Sonic Youth discography; an uncharacteristically sincere but still off-kilter love song that Kim and Thurston sing as a duet. Their voices are a bit out of tune with each other, but i think that honestly fits the Sonic Youth aesthetic and it’s sweet in its own quirky way, although very bittersweet decades later with hindsight about the fate of their relationship. Sort of a noise rock lullaby almost, maybe even with hints of early shoegaze.

Sister does a really good job of taking the seemingly juxtaposing ideas of the ‘fun’ and the ‘grotesque’ and fuses them together. This album is both largely exciting and still somehow alienating and depressive. It’s textbook Sonic Youth, really. I will say that the best tracks are clustered together with a noticeably weaker middle portion, but really this is still a consistently great record throughout. Altogether, Sister is one of the many entries in the band’s discography from 1986 through 1990 where Sonic Youth could basically do no wrong. A classic record.

9/10

highlights: “Pacific Coast Highway”, “Schizophrenia”, ‘Catholic Block”, “Cotton Crown”, “Hot Wire My Heart”, “Beauty Lies in the Eye”

5. A Thousand Leaves (1998)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock

A decent sampling of: Alternative Rock, Post-Rock, Neo-Psychedelia

I’m just gonna say this now: A Thousand Leaves is by far Sonic Youth’s most underrated record. It’s also the last truly amazing record that the band ever put out. Maybe it’s just the bizarre choice of an album cover that turns people off of this LP. Really, what the hell were they going for here with the minimalist hamster vibes? The beautiful title really suggests something a lot more visually stunning.

In all seriousness though, I feel like nobody talks about this one because it’s overshadowed by its predecessor Washing Machine, but if there’s one area that this record exceeds above all other Sonic Youth LPs, it’s that it perfectly captures that mellow feeling that the later Sonic Youth albums were inclined towards. Not a lot of Sonic Youth records put me at ease like this one does.

Likewise, this is maybe the most ‘feel-good’ record in their discography along with Murray Street. But where Muray Street is something you could put on in the background and enjoy pretty modestly, A Thousand Leaves is a largely experimental, out-of-body experience that pulls you into its surreal, flowery, evergreen world.

“Contre Le Sexism” is a perfect opener for this kind of record; this quiet daze of a waking dream is both dainty and delirious, alluding to Alice in Wonderland with Kim’s vocals never before sounding so gentle and bright. I swear I start to hear a door creak at the end. Maybe that’s the sound of stepping out into the rest of A Thousand Leaves.

What follows immediately after is “Sunday” which is actually one of the band’s poppiest moments, making it somewhat of an outlier on this highly avant-garde and immersive record. But the warm spring vibes of the melody fits right in. The wall of sound introduced during the bridge is a soft mesmerizing bliss more akin to a band like My Bloody Valentine, if not for the tiny distant screeches of atonality whirling around here and there. As a big fan of both bands, I’m all for this kind of sound.

“Wildflower Soul” is easily one of the best things Sonic Youth has ever written. Endless amounts of creativity are poured into this nine minute noise rock acrobatics performance along with a lyrical ode to love, nature, and childhood. The vibes of this one are really quite jaw-dropping given the fact that these are the same guys who wrote “Schizophrenia” and “Death Valley ‘69″. There’s such unison and harmony in the band’s performance here as they switch between different bpm and even time signatures, and the usage of the heavy phaser effect towards the end sounds nothing short of godlike. "Wildflower Soul” almost feels like an entire album experience in one song, and I’m beyond impressed every time I listen to it.

This makes for a hard act to follow, but A Thousand Leaves still has plenty of other highlights. “French Tickler” is a strange and satisfying track that switches back and forth between a playful melody and churning, stretchy distortion. “Karen Koltrane” is a murky but textured portrait of Lee Renaldo’s ex-girlfriend, who got addicted to hallucinogens and became heavily withdrawn from the rest of the world. “Snare, Girl” is a soothing spell where Thurston sounds like he’s trying to coax the listener into a never-ending slumber.

My only real complaint here is “Hits of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)”, a lackadaisical jam session that sounds cool enough, but really overstays its welcome given the lack of development it achieves over its eleven minute run time. It’s a nice piece to vibe to, but it very noticeably disrupts the album’s flow. Take this one track away entirely, or even just edit it down severely, and this would probably be a 10/10 record for me.

Still, wow what a cool album. A Thousand Leaves is a great example of why I respect this band so much. Even this late into their career, Sonic Youth were willing to try so many new bizarre things while also building judiciously upon the foundations of their past work with great attention to detail. I wouldn’t recommend most people start with this one, it’s definitely a bit more challenging especially if you haven’t listened to some other really weird experimental rock records. But once you’re in the right headspace for it, it’s easy to get almost completely lost in A Thousand Leaves.

9/10

highlights: “Wildflower Soul”, “Sunday”, “French Tickler”, “Karen Koltrane”, “Snare, Girl”, “Contre Le Sexism”, “Heather Angel”

4. Goo (1990)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

Goo was my very first Sonic Youth album, and I can definitely still feel some of the old teenage angst that I had at the time whenever I listen to this one. What probably adds to that feeling is the fact that this along with Daydream Nation is one of the two albums in the band’s discography that I’d say possesses a great deal of immediacy. Albums like Sister and A Thousand Leaves are a bit more subtle and they take a while to be fully digested. But this one, this one hit me like a brick wall.

Between “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Kool Thing”, and “Cinderella’s Big Score”, Goo is above all others the Sonic Youth record where Kim Gordon is really the star of the band, featuring not one but three of her most captivating songs. Likewise, I would also say that this is Sonic Youth’s most overtly feminist and socially conscious record.

I don’t know if anybody else feels this way, but to me the opener “Dirty Boots” really does sound like “Teen Age Riot” part 2. That’s not a bad thing of course, Sonic Youth making more songs like “Teen Age Riot” could never be a bad thing, and “Dirty Boots” is definitely one of the highlights of Goo with its massive build up of kinetic energy. That being said, I do have to say that I don’t think any song could do this particular kind of album opener better than “Teen Age Riot” already does it, but I still really do enjoy “Dirty Boots”.

“Tunic (Song For Karen)” is one of Sonic Youth’s most poetic and poignant songs. Kim’s sing-talking voice is even more solemn than usual as she takes on a surreal retelling of the final days of drummer/pop star pioneer Karen Carpenter from her perspective, highlighting the severity of her loneliness and the criminal negligence of many of the people around her who let her succumb to her eating disorder. Set to a backdrop of stark and droning alternative rock, I would say that this is possibly the band’s most depressing moment and certainly one of the biggest statements that they ever made.

A lot of the rest of Goo is actually pretty fun though. “Kool Thing” features Chuck D on guest vocals, and its a funny sarcastic take down of the subjugation of women’s voices in supposedly liberated spaces like the world of rock and hip hop, inspired by the time Kim interviewed L.L. Cool J and attempted to have a political conversation. The song mocks L.L.’s attitude towards women while also poking fun at Kim’s own self-perceived elitism. There’s also “Mote”, a sensational head rush that dissolves into noise rock weird-isms, sorta recreating the feeling of going from buzzed to totally black out.

“Mildred Pierce” is almost a practical joke but I kind of love the hell out of it anyway. A short track with lyrics consisting only of the song’s title, it starts with the band getting into a nice little riff before (without warning) bursting into a hardcore punk cacophony as Thurston screams the name over and over into the listener’s ears. Made me jump the first time I heard it.

And then there’s “Cinderella’s Big Score”. If “Schizophrenia” vaguely hinted at Kim’s estranged relationship with her older brother, then “Cinderella’s Big Score” confronts it dead on. Featuring some of the band’s most totally insane and disfigured guitar work ever, this song sounds harsh and militant, like the dawn of a nuclear cataclysm. It’s very hard to believe that Kim is 37 years old here; she reverts to sounding exactly like a hurt teenage little sister, rebelling against her childhood trauma and lashing out at her brother’s past bullying and now his cold indifference towards her.

The song grapples with some very painful emotions, but the experience is raw and cathartic. “Cinderella’s Big Score” is definitely somewhere in Sonic Youth’s top 10 tracks for me; it just doesn’t get any realer than this. Honestly, the record could’ve ended here. I like “Titanium Expose” enough as a closer, but this would’ve made a really powerful and lasting impression to end the album.

Despite that, Goo is an excellent Sonic Youth record that demonstrates just how much the band had mastered their craft after a decade of making all sorts of noises. Obviously I’m biased since it was my own first Sonic Youth record, but I really do feel like this is the very best place to start with the band. Goo is one of their more melodic and accessible offerings, but it’s also one of their most provocative records and it really captures the essence of Sonic Youth’s identity.

9/10

highlights: “Cinderella’s Big Score”, “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Mote”, “Kool Thing”, “Dirty Boots”, ‘Mildred Pierce”

3. EVOL (1986)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: No Wave, Alternative Rock

If Bad Moon Rising was bleak and desolate, than EVOL is disturbed, uncanny, and deeply paranoid. Sonic Youth’s third record evokes the feeling of being all alone at midnight on a sketchy highway, complete with mental images of flickering street lights and looming shadowy figures. I mentioned earlier that I have to be in the right mood to enjoy Bad Moon Rising, but this record puts me in the right mood almost instantly whenever I put it on.

EVOL isn’t exactly a no wave album like their first two records. The highly experimental influence is still there, but the arrangements are starting to sound fuller and more intentional.

You could say that this LP marks somewhat of a transitional phase between Sonic Youth the no wave band and Sonic Youth the alternative rock band, and in many respects it has the best of both worlds. There’s a few catchy darker alternative rock songs here and there, sandwiched between tracks that could best be described as ‘mad scientist’ music, which altogether creates a varied and unique album experience.

“Tom Violence“ immediately establishes the tone of EVOL with crooked, scraping flashes of post-punk guitars. This track reminds me of heads hung low, bodies slouched uncomfortably, and the feeling of being completely wide awake at 2:00 am. There’s something very unfriendly that lurks beneath the dissonance of these sounds.

If “Tom Violence” is uneasy, then “Shadow of A Doubt” is an auditory nightmare, managing to capture something akin to the fear of being watched by an unknown stranger hiding in the shadows. Notes are gently plucked like icy cold fingers slowly crawling up the listener’s back while Kim whispers about murder plots and oneirophrenia. The “just a dream” lyrical motif is first uttered reassuringly, but eventually turns into a desperate plea as Kim begins to shout frantically and the music intensifies.

The album dials down the spook factor a few notches with “Starpower” and “In The Kingdom #19″. The former is an early example of Sonic Youth’s ability to combine melodic hooks with meandering chaos that would become refined on the next few LPs, while the latter features Lee’s first solo vocals (and one of his best performances) reciting a lucid, jet black vision of a car accident. Thurston threw firecrackers into the recording studio when they did Lee’s vocals on this track and you can hear it in the recording, and just like “Mildred Pierce” it really caught me off guard the first time I heard it.

“Secret Girl” is the scariest fucking thing in the whole Sonic Youth discography, and also just one of the scariest songs I’ve ever heard. It starts with a deep shuddering thud that sounds like it’s getting closer and closer. Then out of nowhere, a cassette-recording of an old detuned piano starts to play a simple, unnerving refrain while Kim offers a cryptic and uncomfortably suggestive spoken word piece. It feels like a scene that might play out in a horror film, where a television screen comes on by itself and the person on the screen begins to talk directly to the viewer.

Finally, there’s “Expressway To Yr Skull” (alternatively titled “Madonna, Sean, and Me”), which would be my #1 Sonic Youth album closer if not for the #1 album on this list. That being said, this song is still one of the biggest highlights of the band’s career. "Expressway To Yr Skull” starts off restless and spectacular, leading up to an utterly earth-shaking climax, and then it’s as if the song promptly dies, only to become a lingering undead entity that pulls you down with it. I still can’t get over how the ending really manages to sound like it’s dragging you down further and further into its barren depths.

To add to that, there’s actually a locked groove on the original vinyl release of this LP that plays the last little bit of “Expressway To Yr Skull”, meaning that if you let the needle sit there, it will forever loop that last little bit of droning at the end of the track. I really appreciate this little detail; it’s as if the pervasive darkness of EVOL is so encompassing that it could turn into a deep midnight that never ends.

EVOL is honestly so close to being a 10 for me, but just like Sister I find that it is decently weaker towards the middle. Still, I’m absolutely enamored with the atmosphere on this album. No gothic rock record has ever managed to sound so deeply unsettling to my ears like this little experimental record does. You really just have to experience this one for yourself. Honestly, don’t be surprised if in a year or two I’ve changed my mind and bumped this one to a 10.

9/10

highlights: “Expressway To Yr Skull”, “Shadow Of A Doubt”, “Tom Violence”, “Secret Girl”, “In The Kingdom #19″, “Starpower”

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Road Dogs: Metallica on Tour

Metallica‘s first ever gig took place at Radio City in Anaheim, California in March 1982. Their set list included primarily covers with only two original songs, “Hit the Lights” and “Fight Fire with Fire.” They did Savage’s ‘Let It Loose,’ Blitzkrieg’s ‘Blitzkrieg,’ Sweet Savage’s ‘Killing Time’ and four Diamond Head tracks. For diehard fans, this original lineup did not include Cliff Burton as of yet, but instead Ron McGovney. They eventually asked him to leave the group because the guitarist did not contribute anything of value. Another good reason came in the fact that Dave Mustaine fought with him repeatedly. James Hetfield would later say this about that show. “There were a lot of people there, maybe 200, because we had all my school friends and all Lars’ and Ron’s and Dave’s buddies. I was really nervous and a little uncomfortable without a guitar, and then during the first song Dave broke a string. It seemed to take him an eternity to change it and I was standing there really embarrassed. We were really disappointed afterwards. But there were never as many people at the following shows as there were at that first one.”

Metallica’s second and third show took place at the Whiskey a Gogo in Los Angeles. This venue would be where Hetfield and Lars Ulrich first heard future bassist Cliff Burton and his band Trauma. More recently, Ulrich revealed diary entries related to Metallica’s appearances there. "No sound check. Sound was awful. Played great myself, but the band as a whole sucked. Went down OK." The group opened for Saxon, who the drummer had met six months prior after sneaking backstage during one of their shows. After the concert, the monitor engineer asked Ulrich if he had ever heard of Diamondhead. “Of course, we have, we just played a bunch of their songs!" As it turned out, the crew member was only joking about Diamond Head. He would later go on to work for Metallica in the same position for 22 years.

On April 16, 1983 Metallica played its first show with new guitarist Kirk Hammett at the Showplace in Dover, New Jersey. They had begun recording their debut album Kill ‘Em All in Rochester, New York at that time. The set list included all original material that would land on that first album making up nine songs. Hammett had replaced Dave Mustaine, who held quite a bit of ill will towards him for years claiming in 1985 that Kirk ripped off all his guitar riffs, which got him noticed in the metal community. In defense of Hammett, he was simply trying not to make waves in his new group as Ulrich and Hetfield had definitely decided not to cut any contributions from Mustaine.

On March 5, 1983 Metallica played its first show with Cliff Burton at The Stone in San Francisco, who had replaced Ron McGovney. In 2018, a recording of the show came to light online, which you can listen to on YouTube. The lineup still included Dave Mustain as well taking place a month before the other band members would fire him. They performed 12 songs that night essentially previewing everything to be included on their debut album. At that time, James Hetfield was still struggling over whether he should sing lead. On the recording, you can tell why this became the case as his voice sounds incredibly scratchy with absolutely no technique whatsoever. The show also became memorable as a Cliff Burton debuted the future track, “Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth).”

Cliff Burton played his last show was Metallica in Stockholm, Sweden in September 1986 before his tragic passing. A few years ago, Metallica released a boxed set of rarities for their album, Master of Puppets, which included a recording of that final show. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett talked about their memories of that last concert with Cliff. Ulrich noted, “We played the show in Stockholm, and it went incredibly well. I think it may have been a rare case where we actually played an additional song that wasn’t on the set list, because the show was so good. That’s not something we did a lot then or now. So there was a good vibe.” Hammett would say this in the same interview, “It was significant because it was the first show where James played guitar again (Wrist Injury). He strapped on a guitar and was able to play the encore; I think it was “Blitzkrieg” or something. But I remember the five of us, including John Marshall, being really stoked James was back and playing and looking like was gonna make a pretty healthy recovery. I distinctly remember that show being good, and the feeling when we got offstage was really great and positive and forward-looking. Like, “Great, James is back in and it won’t be long ’til we’re back to our old selves again.”

In November 1986, Jason Newsted would play his first show with Metallica at the Country Club in Reseda, California. He did so in front of a sparse crowd because it had been a secret show for the group Metal Church. Newsted had played with the band for only a short time during rehearsals for the next album. James Hetfield introduced Newsted for the very first time in this way. “Welcome to the very, very secret Metallica gig that every fucker knows about! Here’s the new fucker right over here man, this is the guy… Jason Newsted, we fucking love him, man, so make him feel at home, alright? I want to have some fun tonight.” Their set list would consist of 14 songs from their first three album releases.

In the summer of 1992, Metallica decided to perform a few dates with Guns ‘N Roses. The hype for these shows represented the tour of the year, but the show in Montreal turned into a tragic affair. A pyrotechnic accident occurred as they performed “Fade To Black” causing second and third degree burns on half of singer James Hetfield's body. He recalled the incident, “I'm burnt – all my arm, my hand completely, down to the bone. The side of my face, hair's gone. Part of my back. ... I watched the skin just rising, things going wrong." Jason Newsted would remember that Hetfield looked like the Toxic Avenger from his vantage point. The group immediately cut the show short, so the singer could receive medical attention. He would later say that during the trip to the hospital a road crew member bumped his burnt hand leading him to punch the guy in his “nuts.” For fans still at the show, things only got worse as Guns ‘N Roses delayed getting on stage for two hours. Axl Rose probably only sang for 20 minutes before cutting his night short. GNR Had known what had happened to Hetfield, but they still phoned it in anyway. After that, 2000 people rioted in protest followed by several arrests. This night would lead to great animosity between the two groups for years continuing to this day, but it should be noted that Metallica acted professionally completing the tour with an injured Hetfield. Slash of Guns N’ Roses would later talk about the tour being a financial disaster for them. “Metallica was earning the exact same paycheck as we were every night but while they pocketed the whole thing, we were blowing 80 percent both on union dues for all of the overtime we cost ourselves going on late and on these stupid theme parties. It was just bad." Axl had spent extravagantly on backstage parties in an effort to impress members of Metallica.

In April 1999, Metallica recorded two performances on successive nights with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra led by Michael Kamen. The idea for such a concert had first come up when they worked with the composer on the Black Album song, “Nothing Else Matters.” He had approached them about such a collaboration, but never heard anything until years later receiving a phone call from Lars Ulrich. They filmed the live show at Berkeley Community Theater in San Francisco as Kamen had written additional material to supplement Metallica’s arrangements. The band also released two new songs specifically for the show, “No Leaf Clover” and “Human.” According to James Hetfield, This idea of combining heavy metal and classical music was originally an idea brought up by Cliff Burton, who had a strong background in both. One can see this throughout Metallica’s songwriting in their early years as the bassist relied on melody and instrumental qualities found in classical compositions like his favorite one, Johan Sebastian Bach. S&M would be released as a concert film and an album, with the latter reaching number one on the Billboard 200 chart.

In 1991, Metallica would play a concert in Russia that has become the stuff of legends because 1.6 million people watched it in person. The highlight of the show came when they played “Enter Sandman” as one could see Russian military personnel rocking out just as hard as anybody else. One must note that they were not the only band there that day as other artists included the Black Crowes, Queensryche, Motley Crue, and AC/DC. The Monsters of Rock Festival would only occur this one year in what would become the former Soviet Union. Motley Crue had played one of the early versions of the festival in 1984, but ironically Metallica had surpassed them as a more popular headliner by this time.

In August 2020, Metallica became the first rock act to perform a pre-recorded concert for Encore Live’s drive-in series. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, live concerts were canceled all over the world, so artists like Blake Shelton and Garth Brooks participated in this drive-in movie concert experience. Tickets to view this at your local drive-in cost $115 for up to six people per car. The show took place at an undisclosed location near their home in San Rafael, California.

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 12: Turning up the Volume -  [AO3 LINK]

The song Gordon is singing in this chapter is "I Hate to Dance" by Mustasch! Click here to listen to it!

PS: The alternative title for this chapter: "Gordon Goes Apeshit In A Healthy Way!! YEAH!! >:D"

- - - It was always something else to hear how your voice sounded like to everyone but yourself.

Gordon had been used to it for a long time, mostly thanks to the years he recorded music with his band, but seeing his new friends react to his recorded songs made him pause a bit in thought.

When he and Newton had founded “Black Velvet Rabbits” together, both of their voices were still in the middle of their second puberty. Uneven, scratchy at times… and by far not as resilient as they wanted them to be.

That didn’t mean it stopped either of them from putting their heart and soul into every song they played. It made their first few tapes rough to listen to, but Gordon felt a huge amount of fondness for them regardless. 

All their frustration with their lives, the school system, society, their bodies, their struggles with ADHD and BPD respectively-  it all went into their music. 

It was the sound of desperately struggling youths doing anything they could in their limited power to be heard.

Gordon was well aware that some of their former bandmates thought back to BVR and rolled their eyes at their gigs and “rockstar dreams”. He himself though? He was proud. Both of himself and Newton.  Proud of having this tangible proof that they got through one of the hardest times of their lives together, doing something that they had put together with no outside help, with no overbearing parental figures forcing them to succeed. They created music because it was the one thing they had complete control over… and it had been absolutely intoxicating and freeing at the same time. 

Even now, as their old recordings played in the background, Gordon found himself gently swaying side to side to the tempo of the tune, humming softly along as he was sorting through the remaining contents of the boxes on the floor.

He looked up from his spot, smiling fondly at Bubby letting out a cry of joy when he recognized another classic rock song that BVR had recorded a cover of. 

“Your band might sound like absolute ass but at least they had taste!”, he exclaimed, drumming happily along to the beat on the floor beside Gordon.

“Yeah… our sound quality wasn’t the greatest until… 2014, I think? ”, Gordon pondered out loud. “You’ll notice the change instantly though! Around that time we also actually figured out in which direction we wanted to take our style as well. Took us a while, I know, but… good things take time!”

Speaking of good things taking time- the construction of the pocket dimension within the storage closet seemed to be going nice and steady by the looks of it. 

Every time the doors opened and Tommy stepped out to take a small break, Gordon couldn’t help trying to catch a glimpse inside, which kept earning him a loud “NO PEAKING!” from Tommy- only for him to hear it echoed by Dr Coomer, Benrey and Joshua seconds later.

When eventually each member of the Science Team joined Tommy to help out with the closet, Gordon let himself be focused on his sorting task, Sunkist laying beside him as his only company for the time being. 

“Guess it’s only the two of us for a bit, huh?”, he said, giving the huge dog a few loving pats on her side. Sunkist let out an affirmative woof and rested her head on Gordon’s thigh, earning a smile from Gordon. 

He resumed swaying along to a new tune starting to play on the stereo, now allowing himself to add a few more subtle movements as well. 

He found himself nodding along to the rhythm, his long wavy hair swaying in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

As the side of his right foot began to gently tap against the floor as well, Sunkist got up and pushed her head against Gordon’s shoulder. 

Gordon stared at her for a moment, unsure of what she expected him to do, but as the golden retriever started to gently dig into the carpet surprisingly in tune with the beat, something clicked in Gordon’s head.

He scrambled to get up on his feet, laughed as Sunkist let out a happy bark and started running excited circles around him when he started tapping his foot again.

It had been a while… but no one was in the room right now to judge him. And Sunkist, being the perfect and most supportive dog, would never make him feel guilty about any of this.

He looked down to his tapping feet, his hand closed into a fist as he assembles the old courage and opened his mouth-

“♫ I ain't a boring barfly…so please don't get me wrong, oh- Come on! Yeah, come on! I've been saying this for. Far. Too. LooooOOOONG!! ♪”

Gordon felt himself smile as he raised his voice, mirroring the energy of the younger version of it coming from the speakers.

As he moved his hips and head in rhythm to the beat of the tune, he leaned down towards Sunkist and decided at the moment that, hey, she might be the best audience he had in years - might as well sing for the best girl!

She positively bounced excitedly around Gordon’s feet as the man himself started to jump along with her and the music-

“♪ I haaaate to disappoint you! I'm not the guy you need- so, feel freeee! You can leeeeave! ‘Cause I'll nEVER SWING LIKE A MONKEY FROM. THE. TREEEEES! ♫”

Sunkist let out a loud approving bark at the sound of Gordon letting himself be loud, but this time fully because of joy, nothing like the pained and frustrated yelling he had done all throughout the simulation.

This was how Gordon was supposed to sound like. Loud, happy and confident-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO- ♫”

The possibility of complaining neighbours be damned, Gordon rushed over to this stereo and turned the volume significantly up, still mindful of Sunkist being in the room with him. No matter how perfect Tommy made her, Gordon really didn’t want to accidentally hurt her hearing.

He returned to moving around the living room, his steps becoming confident stomping as he basically had Sunkist follow his path between the furniture at this point. He ran his hand through his hair, letting the majority of it fall over the right side of his head, showing off the remainder of his undercut on the left in the process-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR H-HANDS-!! ♪”

He roughly brushed away a barely formed tear from his right eye, opting to stomp his feet in place of clapping his hands to the beat. He wouldn’t let his pain and trauma cut this moment short. Singing had been his outlet for all his frustrations before, why shouldn’t he try and find out if it would still hold up with the new struggles he was facing?

“♫ I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! ♪”

Sunkist affectionately pressed herself against Gordon’s side, sensing the man’s wild mix of emotions running through his head. Gordon opted to give Sunkist’s back a pat to assure her that he was doing okay. That he needed to do this. To let this all out. 

He took a deep breath-

“♪ So take me away from the dance floor- Nemo saltat sobrius - Well, that's right... fucking right. I've been telling you for far too looooooOOOONG! ♫”

He closed his eyes, his focus now only on putting as much emphasis on the words as he could. As he used to. As Gordon Martini Freeman of the “Black Velvet Rabbits” had been known for.

“♫ I haaaate to disappoint you! But I'm not the guy you need- You can leeeeave, ‘cause to meee- DISCO. DIED. IN. 1983!! ♪”

He spread his arms, his head slightly falling back and his hair following suit… and he could almost feel the comforting heat of spotlights on his skin once more-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO!- ♫”

He bent back forward, letting himself go off into a poorly executed guitar solo as he headbanged to the beat, his hair flying back and forth, side to side-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR HANDS-!!  I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! - BANG THE HEAD THAT DOESN’T BANG!!~ ♪”

Gordon stood there for a moment, out of breath, hair wild and messy, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. He was only pulled back into reality from his post-rockout brain by Sunkist jumping up on him and licking his face-

“Hahaha!! Yeah, this was fun, wasn’t it, big girl?! Thanks for the encouragement, Sunkist. I mean it. I… really needed that.”

He hugged her close before gently letting her get back on all fours, smiling as she let out a soft bark and pressed herself against his side once more, her tail wagging happily-

“Well, I’ll be damned. Sounds like you don’t sound like ass anymore after all!”

Gordon spun around, instantly locking eyes with Bubby, who was leaning against the frame of the closet, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

“H-How much of that did you-”

“I heard enough to know that my eardrums can stand the sound of it.”, Bubby answered, “You don’t sound half bad. Obviously out of practice, but… not awful.”

Gordon scratched the back of his neck, trying to process the rare compliment coming from the older scientist.

“Uh… thanks? A-ANYWAY- how’s the pocket dimension going?”, he quickly added to move the topic elsewhere.

Bubby rolled his eyes at Gordon's obvious deflection.

“It could go way faster in my opinion! But the hallway and the basic rooms are stable now. I won’t invite you in without the others agreeing on it too, but… it’s nice. Having your own space to do with as you please, as barren as it might be at the moment-”

In the time Bubby had spoken, Gordon had walked over to him, now resting his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Hey, I might not have the biggest savings, but that won’t stop me from helping you guys find stuff for your space, okay? I know a few places we could visit sometime this week! But… first I do want to go shopping with you all to let you pick stuff for your wardrobes!”

Bubby stared up to him, a slightly startled look on his face.

“You’ll… let us… pick?”

Gordon smiled softly, hoping it looked reassuring.

“Of course! As long as you all don’t get me into the reds with your purchases, you are free to pick as many things as you want, now that you all have your own space. Honestly… go wild! Did- Do you think I’d limit you? Bubby, you guys are my friends! If anything, I wholeheartedly encourage you to get lost for hours in the nearby thrift stores and find your own style- HURGH!-

Gordon found himself pulled into a tight hug- which only lasted for two seconds.

As Bubby pulled back, he looked away, brows furrowed.

“Thanks. You- you don’t get how much this means to- ...thank you, Gordon.”

“You’re welcome. Uh… should I go get us some food for when you guys are done or-”

“GOD! YES! Fuck off before this moment gets even more awkward!”, Bubby exclaimed with frustration, a hint of a smile tugging on the edge of his mouth.

Gordon threw up his hand in mock defence, not even trying to hide his grin.

[fletchphoenix]

Your Days Are Gone, The Grocery List Goes On

Hi All! So, this is based off the song Milk - Jack Stauber BUT mostly Doctor Chalk’s absolutely beautiful animatic of it, which you should totally check out. 

-----------------------------------

He felt like he was falling - endless black clouded his vision and his hair blew wildly around him. Where even was he anymore? All he remembered was his mom grabbing his wrists and everything burning all over his body. He remembered Hugo, his first love, who’d intended to betray him from the very beginning, prompting him to lock himself in the library with his mom. Body hit floor, skin meeting harsh wood as he finally stopped his descent, and hastily scurried to his feet in the, at first unfamiliar environment.

He tried to look at where he was. A small room with bookshelves lining the walls, a bed in the middle. A guitar sat discarded, propped against the desk against the wall. Pieces of paper with scribbled writing on them were stuck to and littered all over the walls - on closer inspection, they were notes from experiments. His experiments. He knew where he was. His room back in Old Corona. 

  Screams - Hugo’s screams - were echoing outside the room. He had to get out. This wasn’t his home. He couldn’t be home. He reached his hand out and tried twisting the doorknob and opening the door, but that didn’t work. Movements became frantic as he kept on trying. His hands shook as he tried and tried to turn the doorknob, until he gave up on that strategy. He pounded and slammed himself against the door, desperately trying to break out but to no avail. The door remained firm. He tried to scream as his own body was used against his will, his mother using it to abuse and harm the man he once loved. But nothing happened. He tried to cry, but no noise came out. He tried again to open the door. Again and again and again, until he sank to the floor shaking. A louder, more clear scream shook the foundations of the room. 

“VARIAN!” He heard faintly in the background, sound filtering in and out as he slowly fought for control against his mother. “Varian! Goggles! You’ve gotta fight this! Please! We all need you- I need you!” 

Hugo. Traitor. Why was he still here? How was he here? Varian could’ve sworn he locked him out of the library and Donella revealed he was working for her the whole time. His face hardened, but he couldn’t help the small stream of tears that ran cooly down his cheeks as he listened to the blonde’s desperate cries. “Varian-please you’ve gotta listen to me! I know I fucked up - really bad. But you need to fight back!” 

He tried to cover his ears and block the sounds and noises out, but Hugo still persisted, his screams still causing the room to quake. “GOGGLES PLEASE! Varian! Come back to me! I love you!”

And with that, Varian paused. Hugo felt the same. The man who’d taken so much from him..had loved him the same. He thought back on his memories with the blonde - talking by the campfire in the moonlight, walking together in the snow, teaching Yong alchemy...was he ready to let that all go?

A newfound determination rushed through his body, as he started to fight back more and more against Ulla. He couldn’t let her do this. He needed to fight. He kept on slamming himself against the door. He wasn’t ready to lose everyone. He wasn’t ready to lose Hugo. 

Bang. 

For Nuru. 

Bang. 

For Yong. 

Bang.

For Hugo. 

He let out a loud scream of pain, the door opening and falling to the floor. He stumbled forward and felt himself falling once more, his vision fading to black.

Varian awoke with his head in Hugo’s lap, the older twirling his hair around his fingers and staring down at him with tearful eyes along with the widest smile he’d ever seen. “Varian” he whispered, his voice coarse and weak from the screaming. 

  “Hey.” The younger replied and barely had change to say more before Hugo embraced him, sobbing into his shoulder and murmuring countless apologies to the younger teen, who just smiled and held onto him tight. He rested his hand on the back of Hugo’s head and pet his hair, Ulla watching the scene with a saddened smile.

“I remember when you were a baby.”

  Varian paused to look up at Ulla from his embrace with Hugo. He tilted his head and stood, moving over and sitting beside her on the cold library floor. Glistening tears rolled down her cheeks, but her eyes focused on the floor in front of them, and ginger hair sat awkwardly trailing down her back. It was strange to think this woman, who looked so innocent and vulnerable, had been trying to take over her son’s body a few moments prior. His hand reached out to rest on her back, Ulla flinching away from the touch and pressing forward.

  “You were my pride and joy, y'know. I’d look at you and go..wow. This is my son. MY son! I always knew you’d do great things the minute I laid eyes on you. I suppose every mother thinks that about their child, but you...somehow I knew you were destined to be great.” she monologued, a smile on her face as she turned to look at her son. Icy hands rested on his pale, tear-stained cheeks as she examined his face, gently brushing the old tracks that ran down them, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

  “I shouldn’t have left your father or you to seek out this place. I know now it’s selfish..but I just wanted to complete this mission..and Donella was so convincing..so I left. I wanted more from this place when we found it, so me and Donella argued. We both had the same idea - she aimed to keep me in..I aimed to keep her out. And it worked. Nothing broke my heart more than not being able to see you or your father again. But..it's all my fault. If I hadn’t left, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Nonetheless, I’m so..proud of you, son. You’ve accomplished so so much..I just don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me.” her voice cracked, moving her hands back to her face to hide her pain. 

  Hugo gave Varian’s shoulder a light squeeze, a reassuring smile on his face as he encouraged him to talk. Varian took a deep breath. In. Hold. Out.

  “Mom..I forgive you.” he silenced Ulla as she attempted to protest with a wave of his hand, “I’ve done some terrible things too…” he let out a pained sigh. “When I was 14, black rocks started growing all around Old Corona. Dad warned me to stay away, but I was so determined to find what was wrong and show I’m not just a screw up that I kept on experimenting. One day...I trapped dad in an amber-like solution. It was an accident, but I ran to the castle and begged the princess for help. Instead, my pleads fell on deaf ears and I was cast out. Hell, they even criminalised me and claimed I tried to attack the princess.”

  “Anyway..I was so angry that I stole the sundrop to try and free dad but..I found the power of the sundrop had been transferred to the princess. I was so scared and angry that I decided...if a villain was what they wanted, then fine, they’d get a villain. I kidnapped the queen and attacked the kingdom. They stopped me and put me in jail for a year. That’s where I met Andrew.” He rolled his eyes at the name and let out another sigh.

  “He convinced me that no one would ever forgive me for anything that I did. So I made a formula that I used on the kingdom - Quirinium. It was designed to wipe the memories of the whole of Corona so they’d forget what I did and we could go back to normal again...but the Saporians had other plans. During testing, we found that when heated, it didn’t convert to a gaseous state, but it exploded. They wanted to use that for harm - to destroy the kingdom of Corona. Luckily, the princess came back and helped me to fight them off but…” he bit his lip and hesitated before continuing.

  “Rapunzel forgave me. Even after I tormented her family and kingdom, she still forgave me. And slowly, the other citizens of Corona started to forgive me too. So..I forgive you, mom. I forgive you.”

  Ulla’s eyes brimmed with tears as she lunged forward and hugged her son tight, sobbing with her frail form shaking as they wracked her body. Apologies escaped from her lips, not relenting even as Varian returned the hug. She didn’t wanna go. She really didn’t want to leave all of this behind - not after she’s just met her son again after years and years trapped in this hellhole. What if he wouldn’t be okay without her? One glance at her son’s companion, Hugo, let her know. He looked at Varian the same amount of love and devotion Quirin had looked at her before all of this. He was in safe hands, not that he couldn’t handle himself of course just...he wasn’t going to be alone. A small smile crept its way onto her face as she moved away. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.”

  “What do you mean? Mom?” Varian asked, anxiety building at his mom’s statement. “Mom, I don’t-I don’t understand-” he whispered, her eyes locked with hers as she brushed his fringe out of his face and kissed his forehead tenderly, moving back to cup his face in her hands. 

  “I love you, Varian.” She said, her voice barely a whisper as her body started to dematerialise in front of her son and his friend. Finally, she could be at peace instead of trapped in this library. She sighed a satisfied sigh, a smile creeping onto her face. Now, it was only a matter of time until she saw Quirin again...god, she couldn’t wait to see him again..

  “Mom? MOM!” Varian cried and lunged forward to hug her. He was too late. Where her body once stood, there was only empty space and air. Tears welled in his eyes and immediately, he spun round to pull Hugo into a crushing embrace, the older pulling him closer and holding him just as tight. He sobbed and he sobbed and he sobbed till he couldn’t anymore, with Hugo holding him as they sat on the dark oak library floor together in a comforting grasp.

  “Did you mean it?” he said in a hoarse voice, his throat scratchy and sore from all the crying he’d done, “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” 

  Shakily, Hugo replied with a single nod, emerald eyes meeting azure as their fingers interlocked and the other gave a fleeting smile. Varian couldn’t stop himself, reaching out to grasp the collar of Hugo’s jacket, pulling him in and smashing their lips together in one of the most toothy, awkward kisses of his life that just seemed so..them. 

  Hugo was the first to break it, a smirk on his face. “Damn, goggles. That's one way to tell a guy you’re head over heels in love with him.” he let out a laugh, wincing at a sudden pain in his rips at the action. “On second thought, maybe I should hold back on the laughter.” he muttered, Varian bursting out into a fit of laughter on the floor with stray tears still making their way down his cheeks.

  “We should go back soon.” Varian commented, making no effort to stand as he lay on the cold floor, reaching his hand up to trail through Hugo’s blonde locks that had long since fallen out of his ponytail. He still looked stunning, well...despite the blood and bruises that covered every inch of his, in his words, ‘flawless’ face. “Heh, it’s weird. Even with all that blood on you, I still think you look as handsome as ever.” 

  “How about you show me how handsome you think I am?” Hugo snidely remarked, leaning over the boy on the floor and claiming his lips once again. Varian’s arms snaked around Hugo’s neck and pulled him in closer, desperate to keep him and to never lose this boy. He broke the kiss after a few minutes, Hugo peppering kisses all over his lips, forehead, cheeks..all over his face. He giggled at the comforting gestures before pushing away his boyfriend and standing.

  “You coming?” he asked, holding out his hand for the other to take, which Hugo graciously accepted. Their fingers intertwined as they approached the entrance to the Eternal Library, casting each other a loving glance and soft smile. Hugo raised Varian’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

  “Ready when you are, Goggles.” He said, a smile on his face. Varian took another deep breath and, hand in hand with his boyfriend, they exited the library together, ready to face whatever came next.

Together.

[whockeywhore]

Assumptions feat. Laurent Brossoit

“You’re really not going?” 

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the half-finished beer in my hands and busied myself with pulling the label off. Layla reached over and set her hand on mine, squeezing hard. 

“Nora, I-” 

“I’m not going, Layla. I’m not moving my whole life across the country for a man who doesn’t-” The words caught in my throat and I searched the crowd for Laurent, finally spotting him up against the bar. He was leaning close to a woman I hadn’t seen before and my stomach knotted as I swallowed hard. “I’m not going.” 

“But you’re his-” 

“His what? His roommate? Booty call? Besides a warm bed to fall into after a long night, what am I really?” She followed my eyes and her grip tightened as she found him, nails digging into the soft center of my palm. I squeezed her back and shook my head. “I’m not going to Winnipeg to be a fallback.” 

“Nora, you know you mean more to him than that.” 

“Do I?” 

I thought of the last few texts he’d sent me promising to come in quietly, the short voicemails explaining that he’d be late coming home from a date with so-and-so, loud music blaring in the background. I had deleted each and every one before slipping into bed, only to wake up with his chest against my back and his arms around me. 

“I thought you were cool with the situation between you two.”

“I am, it’s just... I don’t know.” 

“He thinks you’re going with him.” 

“That’s it! That’s the problem. It’s the assumption that I’ll just follow him anywhere. That he can mess around and have his fun and then come home to me. It’s been driving me insane.” Layla opened her mouth to speak but I couldn’t stop myself. “He hasn’t even asked me.” 

Her eyes widened sharply and she leaned forward, stopping short to glance over my shoulder. I felt the warmth of his hand on my waist before he even touched me and mentally kicked myself for melting as he pulled me to kiss him, scratchy stubble raising goose bumps on my skin. 

“You ready to go home, love?” 

I looked up at him and he slipped his hand under my chin, running his thumb over my bottom lip with a devilish grin. It was such a familiar and intimate gesture that it drove me crazy. The fact that he knew the impact it had on me only made it worse and he dropped close for another kiss, a different intensity behind it this time.

“I’m going to uh- restroom.” 

“Sure. I’ll be out front.” 

I could still taste the gin on his breath and I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand as I wove through the restaurant. Layla caught the bathroom door before I could slam it and slipped in, sitting on the edge of the sink as I dropped my face in my hands. She gave me a long minute to wallow before she cleared her throat. 

“He really hasn’t asked you?” I caught her reflection in the mirror and frowned, shaking my head. “That’s fucked up.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

Unable to bring myself to admit it, I just nodded and busied myself with washing my hands. 

“But if you do and he doesn’t ask you...” 

“Exactly.” 

“But if you ask him to ask you- why haven’t you asked him to ask you?” 

Asked and unanswered, I crumpled a damp paper towel into a ball and tossed it into the trash can. We both watched it disappear before turning to each other, her brow furrowed as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“What are you gonna do?” 

I shrugged and reached for the handle, lazy guitar music drifting in as I opened the door. I mulled over an answer as we made our way to the exit where Brass was waiting with the car. 

Go home? Get laid? Fall asleep with my head on his chest like I’d done almost every night for the past few years? Wake up and pack so we could continue in Winnipeg? 

The idea of leaving Edmonton hit me like a cold blast of air and I shivered as I sidled up next to him. He wordlessly slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around me before opening the door to the car, a hand on my lower back as I slid in. I let out a heavy breath in the time it took him to walk around to the other side and mustered a smile as he took his own seat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Hmm? Nothing.” I scooted closer and fell against his side, uncomfortably at ease in his arms. Could I give this feeling up? Was it worth uprooting for? He squeezed my side and I shook my head, snuggling further into his embrace. “I’m fine. Really.” 

[adevotedappraisal]

The Carter Trilogy, part two of five

Lemonade: Ten times out of nine I know you’re lying, but nine times out of ten I know you’re trying

When I last reviewed a Beyonce album it was 2011s 4 (reviewed here ) , which I then lamented as unfocused, seemingly sequenced by committee, and utterly dependent on production as opposed to proper song-craft. I concluded then that the limping hodge-podge of an album was going to be Beyonce’s last okay album, and from there on it was going to be a calculated subsuming into a digital and anonymous cloak of modern production, leaving true emotion and song-craft parched, attritioned and abandoned with each subsequent release. Now, with the album 4 I believe I was proven correct, as the album has aged badly, and other than “Love On Top,” left no indelible mark on the pop landscape. But that conclusion on her future? Man listen, I was way off base.

Turns out this black woman from Houston, Texas got on her grind. She still is observant of all prominent trends in black culture and production, but over the last two albums and their accompanying visual films, Beyonce begun to establish the major themes of who she is and, thanks to directors like Jonas Ackerlund and Khalil Joseph and writer Warsen Shire, has concretely fused herself and her struggles into the larger narrative of black women in America.

And so Lemonade, her second best album, along with the emotional Lemonade(Film), present her as an American wife, defiant against the current rigors of her country, and a past that mutilates and morphs the men in her life. This well-crafted view of her though, is a fabrication, one that many stars have tried to present to the public. It feels digestible and true coming from Beyonce though, given that this album roll out was predicated on a very public (and very real) fight involving her sister Solange and her husband Jay Z.

What this gave the project was a narrative flow and imbued a sense of rage, disappointment or sorrow to the songs set. Those feelings were sometimes derived not from the song itself, but from the news details and gossip that filled in between the lines, or hovered over the whole album. But when the lights turn off and the band packs up, how well did the songs themselves transmit this idea of Beyonce?

The guitar lays a base for the song in curt chucks, not scratchy and acerbic, but warm and echoed, like the lazy, beautiful guitar throughout Bob Marley and the Wailers “Stir it Up.” The bassline curls and growls around the verdant pylons of drum kicks like an affectionate panther, while Beyonce holds a call and response with a choral of Beys, skanking and in love in the middle of this kinky reggae of “All Night.”  “I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crime,” she says in a bold voice and melody, then later on she decides “give you some time to prove that I can trust you again,” before she relaxes into the joyous chorus.  Her voice here on the hook is clear and strong yet delicate and floating, like Misty Copeland’s legs, or Beres Hammond’s voice on 90s reggae classic “Come Back Home.” 

The album gets more interesting and tender like this as it goes along, like with the anthemic thump of “Freedom (featuring Kendrick Lamar),” a song with positive messages of black consciousness and self-determination that gets its blood pumping from the engaging drums, bass, Kendrick’s dexterous flows and the grooving organ.

Similar sturm und drang is found on first half highlight “Hurt Yourself (featuring Jack White)” where the drums and organ synth are agitated and staccato, while the guitars rage on unrestrained like white water rapids. “Who the fuck do you think I is? I smell that fragrance on your Louis V boy,” she demands, the static filter on her voice heightening the tension in her marital threats, and accosting the song.

Elsewhere, “Forward” with James Blake is a moody interlude, the voices and atmospherics setting the tone for the fog of emotional stasis that follows a crisis in relationships and the tentative steps out of it.  It is mysterious and melodic, reminiscent of some of those dense songs on the first half of her best album, 2013s Beyonce. 

These songs give true dimension to the album, and provide a strong enough thematic base for Lemonade to resolve itself with the Black pomp and majestic boom of lead single “Formation.”  That balance between strong lyrics and engaging music in service of those themes is not an easy one to get right on such a varied album, and the whole storyline of the tarnished marriage papers over its mis-steps at some points.

Take “Sandcastles” for instance, a somber ballad with great piano and vocal harmonies throughout, while Beyonce reveals the fragility of love.  Ballads like these usually accomplish this theme with a delicate poetry, but here the lyrics are wanting, hiding behind the singer’s dramatic rendering, at points wrenching the words out her throat. And on “Sorry,” the buzzed-about insults and vulgarity obfuscate the hollow production, which even now already sounds dated.

“6 inch” finds Beyonce in her f- me pumps, the woman undone, with The Weeknd narrating this lost weekend of bacchanalia with usual surface-level observations.  A booming, strutting song built around an Isaac Hayes sample, the synth work around it though is a bit too overproduced and showy, and the words and the weak chorus don’t truly match the unwieldy production.  At points in the song, while her harmonies descend with the grand, arranged music like Cinderella at the ball, none of this matters, but, in the clear light of the day after, the drawbacks remain.

Another factor that softens any drawbacks to the songs are their inclusion in her Lemonade(Film), released the same day as the album.  The images, directed by Khalil Joseph and Beyonce are arresting at points, dreamlike at others, emphasizing the connection between the Carter’s marriage and those of the Black community at large. 

Here, the image of Beyonce drowning in a room feels like an image any anguished woman might describe to you, and the images of older women in their chairs, the dancers popping and locking to “Formation” all seem like permutations of the same woman finding her way through a yet-to-be-broken cycle.

Many images, film shots and techniques here accompany the songs well, but some feel too weighty and derivative, reminding me too much of the works of Terrance Malick, the illusive director of classics like 1979s Days of Heaven starring Richard Gere, 1998s The Thin Red Line, starring Sean Penn, and 2005s The New World, an exploration of the Pocohontas story.  Beyonce’s off-camera narration is very similar to the narration of The New World, down to her prayers to the moon and her dearest mother, shit even the font used for the chapter headings look the same. By the end, the film feels self-important, a spectacle of anguish, as opposed to an exploration of the self or the characters involved.

And it is that self-exploration that usually led to the more nuanced lines and confessions in divorce albums of the past, while on a lot of Lemonade it’s either all invective or adoration. 

On Marvin Gaye’s 1979 album Here My Dear, he tells his ex-wife on “Anna’s Song” “Annas here's your song, the one that i promised you all along/ I knew all the time that I’d find the rhyme/ Never have a fear, here it is my dear,” his voice a soft reveal, showing the tragedy of finally figuring out what to tell a woman when she’s on her way out the door.  And Lindsay Buckingham tells us on Fleetwood Mac’s “Never Going Back Again,” from Rumours, “she broke down and let me in/  made me see where I’ve been.” Shading in a portrait of a relationship with parts of oneself can lead to illuminating results, and this is seen in one of Beyonce’s best songs, “Love Drought.”

A slinky midnight love song that set up the conflicts and desires of this super-star marriage without being subsumed by the tabloid hurricane around them. “Ten times out of nine I know you’re lying, and nine times out of ten I know you’re trying,” she observes, resonant 808 booms and curling synth notes in the background.  The personal life of the singer provides some context, but the songwriting and melodies are strong enough to exist without it, telling a universal story of modern love. 

“I always paid attention, been devoted, tell me, what did I do wrong?” she confidently pleads, the film curiously overlaying her words with scenes from a baptism, Beyonce among the apostles of women wading into a body of water, raising their hands, yearning to be cleansed anew by the same tormenting earth. 

[piccolina-mina]

The Taste of Ink

Fandom: Roswell, New Mexico

Characters: Alex Manes, Max Evans

Pairing: Manevans

A/N: *long sighs* You know, it’s not cool how you found a tiny hole and now poke the squishy part just to get what you want because you know you’ll usually get it. Anyway, to mischief makers @faithtrustaliendust, @suzteel, and @queenrikki on this Manevans Monday. 

Because our multishipping arses have had a soft spot for an emo punk vet and a soft nerdy cowboy since they exchanged one look in high school. #ManevansRights If they don’t give us Manevans scenes next season, we riot! 

Warning: so much sh!tty poetry. Teen poet Max is not good, but Teen Emo Alex is weak for him anyway. 

 Anyway, enjoy, or not. 

—-

He slammed his locker shut, music blaring in his ears and drowning out the chaotic energy of the halls of Roswell High.

I’ll be your number one with a bullet A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it

If he could make it through his last class, he could hit the music room and retrieve his guitar, maybe work out a melody that had been scratching in the recesses of his mind, dying to get out.

He sighed at the Letterman jackets closing in, a sense of dread over which pea-brained jock would start shit today.

He wasn’t in the mood.

They swerved him, which was fine until one rammed into Max Evans knocking his books down and throwing that stupid baseball cap he always wore to the floor.

Admittedly, Austin Farrell stomping the hell out of the thing was him doing Max a favor, but the rest was just uncalled for.

Max was an odd one. On the surface, he was tall and fit enough to be a jock, and if he had anything that resembled coordination, he would have made a hell of a basketball player.

But he had P.E with him last year and quickly realized Max and sports didn’t mix.

He was tall, a bit dopey, and walked around hunched over and hiding behind books and baseball caps.

He always wondered why Max carried himself like he was afraid to take up space. Like he was too big, and the world was too small. Deep down, he knew what it felt like to want to hide –blend into the background and be left alone. So could he really judge him?

The jocks watched Max scramble to retrieve his things, one of them snatching up an opened notebook and scanning its contents.

“A shared glance, ephemeral, unlike the all-consuming inferno within for you. Relentless, like the curve of your smile – Oh shit, Shakespeare here is writing love letters!” Farrell crowed.

More mocking ensued, and by then, Max’s cheeks flushed crimson. A tuft of hair fell in his eyes as the notebook landed on the heap with the rest of his belongings.

He knelt down and helped Max gather his books, and nodded in acknowledgment of Max’s bashful smile.

But then he felt someone shove him from behind. He rose to his feet, turned and narrowed his eyes at Farrell. He could tell the brute was attempting to taunt him, but he refused to take his earbuds out to hear it.

He signaled at his ears, flashed a “f*ck you” smile, and waited for Farrell and his crew of nimrods to get out the way.

Some days, he discovered not giving them anything to work with bored them. Fortunately, it was one of those days.

He still had the opened notebook in his hands and couldn’t help scanning over the rest, his interest semi-piqued.

“Hey, could you…” Max’s embarrassment was transparent as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and reached for the worn, leather-bound notebook.

He flashed him a sympathetic smile. The last bell sounded, and they stood outside their final class: study hall.

The prospect of spending the next 45 minutes in a room with Kyle and his friends wasn’t appealing, but something else definitely was.

He pulled his earphones out of his ear, cocked his head to the side studying the awkward boy in front of him, and made a decision.

“You wanna get outta here?” He asked.

Max was startled, or maybe he was too focused staring moony-eyed through the window.

“You– Me? You’re talking to me?” He stammered, pressing a large hand to his chest in askance. “Blow off study hall?”

Alex shook his head and snorted softly to himself. He jerked his head in the direction of the class.

“Or you could spend the next hour imagining that’s you slobbering on Liz’s neck and not Kyle. I’m out either way.”

“I wasn’t–” Max protested. “I was going to work on chemistry.”

“I bet you were,” he deadpanned.

“Actually, yeah,” Max tightened the single strap over his shoulder and stepped closer to him. “I’m quite flexible.”

He raised a brow – watched Max’s reaction when his own statement landed and his face flushed again.

“I meant, um, with my schedule,” Max stammered. “I, yeah, just,” he scratched at the back of his neck and ducked his head down awkward and shy as ever.

He was starting to wonder if that cap Max wore had some mystical abilities that made the guy less of a puppy. At the very least it rendered him capable of basic forms of communication and a latent ability for prose.

Max released a puff of air and flashed a smile that Alex found endearing. “Um, just, after you…”

He felt Max’s presence behind him as they walked down the hall. For someone so tall he was light on his feet. He wasn’t taller than him by much, but with close proximity came a comfort he hadn’t felt in some time.

Not since Cutter, who ironically, had a gift for words too. He had a gift for a few things.

Their makeshift band fell apart around the time Cutter moved away, and he hadn’t been able to get the gang to agree on much of anything ever since.

He didn’t have too many sanctuaries at Roswell High, but the music room was one of them. He slipped in with ease, wrapped his hands around his guitar and relished the feel of it in his hands.

It was like an extension of him. He hopped onto a desk and begin strumming away, trying to chase the melody that had been taunting him for hours.

Max wandered around the room gently gliding his hands across instruments and staring around.

“You play?” He studied Max as he played.

“Nah,” Max snorted. He held his hands up as if they were answer enough. “My br-best friend tried to teach me, but I have big, clumsy hands. No technique.”

“Somehow I doubt with hands like those you lack technique,” he tossed out.

Admittedly, he got a kick out of making Max blush. He made it so easy. Max turned away, fiddled with the cap in his hands, and sighed knowing it was ruined.

“It’s for the best,” he teased staring pointedly at the cap. “If it’s any consolation, you look better without it.”

Another shade. He really was having too much fun.

“Hey, it’s part of my style just like you and your …” Max waved at Alex before deciding on. “Septum ring.”

“You’d look good with one, too. I can get you a deal,” he leaned on the desk next to Max.

Max scoffed. “I can’t pull it off like you. I would look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously hot,” Alex quipped with a shrug. “Who knows? Maybe it would get Liz’s attention.”

Max sunk further onto the desk. Falling back into that habit of making himself small with shitty posture.

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Evans, they can see it from the moon, man.”

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious. I’m usually better at hiding,” he dug his fingers into the leatherbound notebook and sighed.

“You’re a poet,” he said bluntly, cutting to the chase.

“I’m really not,” Max contested. “I like writing, but I’m not a writer.”

“Max, that’s the definition of a writer.”

“I’m not, like, good. I just…” his voice trailed off as if he didn’t know what else to say.

“Is everything you write about her?” He went back to strumming the same couple of notes.

Max shrugged.

“You mind?” He asked. His hand enclosed around Max’s as hoping Max would relinquish the book.

Max was hesitant. He felt him squirm beside him likely terrified of sharing such a vulnerable part of himself.

He tried to give his best reassuring look, squeezed Max’s hand in comfort. “I promise,” he whispered softly. “I won’t laugh.”

Max swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple he still hadn’t grown into bobbing. He gave a brief nod.

He pried the book from Max’s grip and flashed a sincere smile. Max closed his eyes falling back until he was sprawled across a couple of desks as if he was trying to disappear into the furniture.

He pegged him for a sensitive type, but the melodrama caught him off guard.

He thumbed through the book, worn pages filled with scratchy notes and fanciful words.

Spilled ink and a bared soul, nearly as intimate as a diary. He hummed to himself, words painting pictures in his mind and pictures becoming sounds in his head.

A specific line caught him, and he twirled it around in his head. His hands were clutching the guitar again, his fingers gripping the guitar pick firm as his sounds playing in his head came through his fingers.

He sang quietly, hauntingly a tale of lost love, the ache of being peered through in a busy hallway and not gazed at. A soft brushing of fingers, accidental in lab, and a half-smile. He sang of deep, profound loneliness, and an aching for something unattainable.

He sang Max’s words, his own half-grin forming when Max opened his eyes, stared at him with a dropped jaw their eyes locked in the familiar way that they do when something inexplicable clicks into place.

The last chord died out in the room, and silence replaced it. Max stared, awed.

“That was good.”

“That was you,” he replied. “Like I said, you’re a poet. Even better, you’re a songwriter. I could use one of those.”

“You want me to write songs with you?”

“Only if you’re up for it,” he shrugged noncommittally.

“I suppose it’s better than pining,” Max muttered.

“It’s still pining, just with kickass music behind it,” he smirked.

The final bell of the day sounded, and Alex hopped off the desk and gathered his things.

“But, we don’t listen to the same things,” Max slung his backpack over his shoulder and gripped his notebook like a lifeline. “At least, I’m assuming we don’t.”

“You got something to say about my look, Evans?”

“What? No, I, think you look nice…”

He really had to stop amusing himself by getting Max flustered.

“Music is universal, Max. If you keep writing, I’ll keep playing.” He shoved his earbuds in his ears. “I think we could make some killer music together.

— 

 If you’d have told him Max Evans would become one of his closest friends, he would have snorted in disbelief.

They were different, at least, he assumed they were, but in reality, they were more alike than the surface implied.

He had grown used to the notes Max slipped in his locker. Sometimes it was a full poem, and others it was only a line or two.

Sometimes Max would slide them across his desk – scribbled notes on frayed pages, Max’s script delicate and neat.

He kept them in a box in the shed – piled them up, scraps and whole pages of prose.

He’d pass Max in the hall, and Max would give him that dopey grin that made him smile. He tried not to, he did, but somehow, Evans always pulled a small one out of him anyway.

Max was non-judgmental. He didn’t understand some things, but it didn’t stop him from trying to, with rapt and genuine interest and attention.

He would cautiously wander to the bleachers sometimes, visibly wary of Alex’s friends, not sure how he would be received among the mishmash of metalheads and burnouts, a few stoners, and drama geeks, and a goth or two.

His musical taste was questionable, devoid of any real identity that set him apart from anyone like he was going along to get along.

He often wondered why Max was so determined to disappear into the background.

He was funny, kind, and personable. He was easily someone who others would gravitate to if they ever got the chance to know him, but Max Evans didn’t make himself known. Not really.

He showed people what he wanted them to see, a small peek into who he was, just enough to appear non-threatening but not enough to lure people in.

Yet, that’s precisely what made Max so alluring to him. He knew a chameleon when he saw one – a kindred, someone adaptable when they had to be.

Max seemed genuinely surprised by how easy he was welcomed into their mix, and it was nothing for him to hang out with the group sometimes if only to show his sister he did, in fact, have friends.

Study halls they would spend in the music room jamming out.

He introduced him to My Chemical Romance and was pleasantly surprised that Max dabbled with Green Day and Fallout Boy.

They shared a mutual appreciation for Johnny Cash, which is something he wouldn’t cop to in public. But they wore out his cover of Nine Inch Nail’s "Hurt” like it was an anthem.

Max was expressive. Far more than him, but still subdued enough to not be overwhelming.

They’d sit side by side, an earbud between them, Max’s eyes closed when a particular song struck a chord with him.

For Max, the music was about the words. Lyrics spoke to him more than anything else. He learned to predict which songs would speak to Max most.

He taught Max a thing or two with the guitar.

Max had a natural ability for percussion, which surprised him, and the way his eyes lit up when he pulled off a minute drum solo actually made him laugh.

He wasn’t used to that kind of enthusiasm. But Max’s quiet darkness spoke to him more.

He spent enough time around him to pick up on how Max would slip away into the dark caverns of his mind, introspective and deep.

His eyes would get stormy then like he was fighting battles that would never reach the light of day.

If he was honest with himself, he liked that Max best. There was a story there itching to be told, but he better than anyone understood untold stories and secrets, so he’d never pry. Maybe that’s why Max came back to him time and again too.

He saw more of Max than most, but he didn’t push. He’s pretty certain Max saw him too. They held entire conversations with a single loaded look.

Some weekends they’d go for a drive, hit the desert, and fuck around with music until dusk.

Max’s lip would curl up in that half-smile as he drove, peeking over on occasion as if wondering if Alex was actually enjoying his company.

Max was proud of himself for blaring “Jesus of Suburbia,” which had become one of his latest obsessions, and he admittedly was impressed that he did, in fact, know the entire song from start to finish.

They’d hang until dusk and went their separate ways after grabbing a bite at the Crashdown.

On those days, he figured Max needed to lay eyes on his muse.

One weekend they drove a town over, he hit the stage during amateur night at some underground coffee shop, and for five minutes their joint efforts came to life on stage.

He’s not much of a singer, but the feeling was right. It was worth it just to see Max’s face light up as he beamed with pride and breathed about making something so beautiful.

Some days Max was absent. He’d get caught up in something with his sister or Guerin, but if he worked on something, he would slip that leatherbound notebook in Alex’s hands like he was entrusting him with his life.

Maybe in some way he was.

They didn’t talk, but then, they never needed to … there was something about their silence that was comfortable.

But sometimes his curiosity got the best of him.

They sat on the hood of Max’s jeep, stretched out, takeout between them after he hitched a ride with Max to the record store to meet up with his friends – their friends. He supposed they were Max’s too now.

He couldn’t help stealing a few glances Max’s way. The guy was a bit of a pushover, and Roni spent two hours making him her latest project.

She stole that godforsaken baseball cap and left him with wind tousled dark hair that kept slipping into his eyes because he hadn’t cut it in a while.

He faults himself for that. He told him it looked good longer, and shockingly, Max took it to heart.

Smudged black eyeliner made Max look a bit edgier. The silver choker around his neck did too, but fortunately, Roni reined it in.

To him, Max still looked like a puppy, with sad Bassett hound eyes, but that’s how he liked him.

Galaxies behind every gaze and a black hole heart.

It was something Max alluded to in the latest scrap of paper he left inside his locker.

Months later, and he already could tell he had an influence on him. His prose lost some of the flowery edges and shifted into something darker, caustic but no less beautiful.

“You ever think of telling her?” He took a long pull of his soda and squinted into the distance.

He felt Max’s gaze on him.“What?”

“You ever think about actually sharing the things you write with the person it’s about?”

Max ducked his head down, that familiar demure action that Alex had grown fond of.

“Who says I haven’t?” He answered after a while.

He scoffed. He knew Liz well enough to know if she had known for a second about half the things Max wrote about her, he’d have heard about it.

Even if she let Max down gently, she would have had quite the reaction.

“I’m pretty observant, Evans,” he shook his head. “I would’ve noticed.”

“You sure about that,” Max muttered under his breath.

At least, it’s what it sounded like he said. He knew Max had a snarky streak, but it was rarely directed at him.

Max wouldn’t look at him, but he bore an unreadable expression. He slurped the last of his drink more out of habit than need, but then reached for Alex’s too.

He handed it over with a frown, Max’s large hand wrapping around his briefly before he sucked down the rest of Alex’s drink, too.

“Are you embarrassed?” He asked after a while.

The silence between then had stretched on for a bit, however, it wasn’t their comfortable kind. It was something else, something tenser, and he could only guess bringing up Liz was a sore spot.

He knew what it was like to have feelings for someone without them being reciprocated.

He hopped off the truck and reached into the passenger seat. He rummaged through his bag until he pulled out the box he kept all of Max’s poetry– his lyrics.

He climbed back on the truck, holding the box in his hand grateful he brought it along for the day.

He didn’t miss the small smile on Max’s face at the box in his hand, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Putting yourself out there sucks,” he shrugged. “I know better than anyone.”

Max didn’t say anything. Between the two of them, he was used to Max being the one to fill the silence, or at least respond when he talked to him. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear Max was channeling him.

“I’m not the best at … feelings,” he struggled even uttering the word.

“But you are. Have you read your work? All these bits and pieces – I know Liz, and if she just knew… if she read these … ”

He went through the most recent scraps on the top and felt Max tense up beside him.

“There are galaxies behind your eyes, infinite and wise all the things you hide.

"The darker you are the more I see what if we were meant to be something more…

"Short desert nights and long silence just you and me next to you is where I’m free

My name a low melody on your lips I wonder if you should know. How I dream of taking the risk. A shot at true bliss in kissing you hello,” his mind raced as he dug through more.

“You helped me see me the way that you do if only you saw how I do the same for you”

“I"ll follow you through the dark because you’re the light”

“Over the edge, but I’ve never been afraid of falling only that you won’t be there, you’ll disappear when I do”

“Jagged smiles that don’t come easily, each one burned in my memory, my pulse races staccato, breath caught you saved one for me, just maybe … ” he felt like he was punched in the gut.

He sneaked a glance at Max, a strong profile, hunched forward. The only giveaway that his nerves got the better of him was how he wrung his large hands, ink-stained and trembling.

“These aren’t about Liz,” his voice caught in his throat, and her name came out like a whisper.

                                         "Who says I haven’t?”

                                                “You sure about that?“

Full smiles in the hallway. The way Max’s eyes crinkled in the corner when he laughed, how they deepened when he made Alex laugh too.

The way Max stood by his side, solid, warm, close all-consuming making him feel small but also safe.

Brushed knuckles while playing guitar. Late-night phone calls, and long desert drives. Study notes and tutoring, long days at the record store.

Grabbing a bite to eat and rotating who paid, stolen fries and shared drinks. Notes, every other day.

He looked down at the treasure chest of spilled ink."Shit.”

He played back snippets of the past few months, saw them through a different lens.

Max stopped staring at Liz months ago, but he never stopped looking at –“Shit. These aren’t about Liz.”

“They’re not about Liz,” Max agreed his voice low and husky.

“They’re about –”

“You,” Max supplied. “You’re not that observant, Manes,” Max joked softly. “You’ll see a dozen different angles however obscure but miss what’s directly in front of you.” Max chuckled low and deep.

He sat in stunned silence, and Max, the bastard, let him. He gave him the time to process, not that his proximity helped, warm, solid, pressed against him from shoulder to pinkies a ghost of an interlock as the hood of Max’s truck suddenly felt too small.

He never had anyone write about him before, write for him, and he didn’t realize that confession slipped from his lips another on top of the others until Max responded just as quietly.

“You should,” Max whispered. Max looked down at his hands as if sparing himself the heat of Alex’s gaze.

“You deserve songs written about you, Alex. You’re,” he exhaled resigned. “You’re amazing, and any guy who doesn’t see it doesn’t deserve you.”

Max turned the full force of his gaze on Alex, heated and open, vulnerability laid bare for Alex to see.

How could he have not seen it before?

“You wrote me poetry,” he breathed. He opened and shut his mouth feeling like a guppy.

Max shrugged, a sad half-smile. “You sang me songs,” he countered.

Max peeked down at him beneath lashes, bashful and sweet.

“They made you happy, ” Max whispered into the night air, trusting the wind would carry his words for him. 

“They made you happy, and that made me happy. I liked surprising you, the way the curve of your lip turns up,” Max whispered, eyes slipping to Alex’s mouth for a brief moment. “And your eyes,” he reached his hand out as if to touch Alex’s face but caught himself.

His breath hitched in anticipation that quickly became a disappointment. He felt the loss of a touch that never reached him.

“It’s OK, though” Max murmured softly in that voice that haunted his dreams at night.

“Max,” he pushed past the lump in his throat and cursed this tall, dopey, adorable boy for drinking the last of his soda.

“I don’t expect anything, Alex,” Max breathed out, nervous energy tinging his voice. “Nothing has to change.”

Determined brown eyes fell upon him and he knew just how much Max meant that.

“It’s OK,” Max continued, and he couldn’t tell if the desperation in Max’s voice was an attempt to convince himself or him.

“Max–”

“I promise, Alex,” Max’s voice was desperate but sincere. “Everything this is, I – it’s more than enough, I swear. I –I’m really good at pining.”

He let out a startled laugh.

“You’re laughing at me,” a flash of hurt crossed Max’s eyes but he schooled his expression.

“No,” he breathed. “Yes, I mean,” he exhaled long and slow reaching out to grab Max’s hand in reassurance.

His mouth worked, open and closed as he struggled with what he wanted to say, how much of himself was he willing to give in that moment?

“I–” he squinted out in the distance, pinks fading into the blue. He shivered and wished he could only blame it on the cool evening air.

“I–,” he tangled his hand with Max’s, slightly callused, warm, comforting. He looked up, smiled a little at Max’s expression as he stared at their entwined fingers. “Why would I settle for enough, when you’re telling me I can have more?”

He watched Max’s head slowly lift, his expression openly hopeful. No half-measure. He felt it and felt it fully, openly. It’s what Max always gave to him.

He wasn’t used to letting others see him like that, but Max understood that, didn’t seem to hold it against him. He found ways to slip through the cracks.

He swallowed as Max’s thumb rubbed circles into his skin driving him crazy without even realizing it. Quintessential Max.

“I’m really good at pining too,” he muttered. He thought the confession would cost him something, but it left him lighter, freer.

It gave him something instead, that spark in Max’s eye, darkened pupils, goofy grin becoming something far more alluring, sexier. His breath caught.

“I really want to kiss you,” Max murmured, his face closing in, eyes slipping to Alex’s lips before meeting his eyes. It wasn’t until they were a couple of centimeters apart before he breathed. “But only if you want me t–”

He surged forward, capturing Max’s lips with his. He was urgent, needy, but Max’s hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, slowing them down.

Long, lazy, languid kisses dizzying in their delivery. Max’s tongue warm and wet was on the verge of driving him insane.

“Fuck,” he gasped. He clutched Max’s hair, moaned as Max trailed kisses down his jawline and neck, suckled at sensitive spots he didn’t know existed.

Max pulled away, the pads of his thumbs feather-light against Alex’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Max stammered. “Am I not doing this right?”

For a moment he was gobsmacked, the only thing more shocking than the soft-spoken, awkward poet being such an incredible kisser was him thinking for a second that the sweet torture he inflicted on Alex was anything other than just fucking right.

Max flashed a crooked smile – a glint of mischief in his eye confirmed Max was screwing with him.

“You’re such a shit,” he smirked.

He rested his forehead against Max’s sighed when Max pulled them back until he was hovering over Max.

“You gonna write about this?” He ran his nose along the side of Max’s jawline, nipped along the bone before pulling back.

Their hands entwined rested on Max’s chest, a tangle of black fingernails, silver rings, and ink-stained skin.

The intensity of the adoration in Max’s eyes scared the shit out of him. But it was a fear he could get used to.

Max’s hand slipped to the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair pulling him forward, chasing his lips.

“I’m gonna dream about this,” Max whispered against his lips.

“Me fucking too,” he panted breathlessly as they made out beneath the stars.

                                             –Fin–

[thesinglesjukebox]

SASAMI - TAKE CARE

[6.67]

Today in Amnesty, we just wanna go back, back to 1999... or is it 2019?

Nortey Dowuona: A gentle, sweeping coo by Sasami, blankets the sandy and nearly invisible guitar, thins, stuck on bass and flat, limp drums. [5]

Alex Clifton: I saw Sasami open for Snail Mail earlier this year, and I was kind of terrified of her. She's super-intense on stage and I felt my heart pounding during her entire set, so even though I wasn't crazy about the music I certainly remembered her. "Take Care" is toned down and chill, but it ends up fading into a background of Generic Dreamy Women's Indie Rock. I do wish she'd do more material like this, but having seen her give a very engaging show I'm less impressed with this. [4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Bathed in sunlit, warm guitar strums and weightless, angelic wooing, Sasami proves herself an effective Mitski disciple. [6]

Alfred Soto: With the buzzing, brooding po-facedness of good Mitski, "Take Care" has a sound or voice to catch the ear every bar: multi-tracked harmonies, rifflets, the care with which Sasami enunciates "fake explore the neighborhood." [6]

Iain Mew: The sighing background vocals are beautiful and set up the mood, one of distance and pushing through an emotional haze as thick as the musical one on the guitars. The alternating two-note hook at the end of each verse is stuck in place while moving, just like Sasami. "I don't leave my house anymore/Except to fake explore the neighborhood" but maybe faking it to make it is okay, an imitation of life as a step back to life. There's nothing so clear as a resolution or answer in "Take Care," but the song makes it feel like that's okay too. [7]

Michael Hong: Underneath the lush, textured arrangements of Sasami's tracks is her voice, that soft hum that imbues each track with a sort melancholic sadness. Her voice is a softly resigned murmur, accepting of the circumstances and unchanging, but on loose single "Take Care," Sasami is no longer a wistful voice buried in the mix but fully embracing the forefront of the track. The hint of resignation is still on her voice, but Sasami sounds so clear that as the arrangement chips away, "I could take care of you" sounds like a gentle bout of confidence rather than poorly-timed wishful thinking. [8]

Oliver Maier: "Take Care" heaves towards its climaxes and bursts at the seams. When Sasami's voice explodes into angelic chorus a little past the two minute mark, you can hear her breathe in, and you can hear the vocal layers fray the edges of the recording. It's a sighing daydream, but it's not optimistic enough to shrug off banal reality; it's gorgeous in a way that feels larger than its DIY trappings -- crummy synthesizers and stiff drums -- but still dependant on them. Sasami's lyrics tread the line between genuine despair and comical pathos ("being alone is such a chore") with a levity reflected in the arrangement, as when the lead guitar on the bridge seems to wail in mocking response to her vocals. (The video is equally sheepish: a dramatic series of close-up shots where she wrecks a car with a bat is interrupted by a sped-up bystander viewpoint that foregrounds the slapstick side). In a weaker song all of this self-consciousness would risk undermining the sincerity, but "Take Care" never loses its tenderness. Sasami's murmur is shy and delicately poised, like a glass sculpture a breath away from toppling and shattering, and the cheeky touches in song and video alike only bring the earnestness at the centre into sharper, more affecting focus. Feeling like your world will literally fucking disintegrate if you don't fall in love NOW is melodramatic but it's also how one feels sometimes, and there's some peace in acknowledging that it's the silly, embarrassing way that we're wired. I don't get the sense that the song is really addressing a particular "you" as much as an anybody, grappling with the raw need rather than a specific subject (though I'm fond of the reading that the "you" in the final chorus is self-directed too). It's a fantasy that rolls its eyes and embraces itself at the same time. [10]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: "Take Care" exudes a '90s slacker-sadness that's paralyzing in its ambling pace. Circuitous guitar motifs, simple organ chords, multipart harmonies--their sluggishness constructs a suffocating, uncomfortable atmosphere. A quietly harrowing lyric cuts to the core of Sasami's woes: "being alone is such a chore." With every patiently-sung vocal melody, she forces herself to speak as a way to process emotions; you can sense the discomfort in her voice, the stuffiness of a young life still unfulfilled. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: By the end of the decade it's possible that every '90s alternative singer-songwriter -- even the ones that haven't gotten the full #rememberthe90s press treatment -- will have a counterpart in a currently hyped indie-rock act that sounds just like them. "Take Care," in its crunchy-but-not-sharp guitar, loping pace, scratchy voice, and sadsack lyric, would take care of Mary Lou Lord, maybe early Lisa Germano or Big Sir. It's a sector of music that's both distinct and underrated -- but one that I, personally, bounce off pretty often, wanting the arrangements to be tenser, more dynamic. "Take Care" is not an exception. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[happymetalgirl]

Periphery - Periphery IV: Hail Stan

Periphery is one of those bands that I think draws way more polarized opinions than they need to. When it comes to them, it's either the big djentheads who appreciate what they do or the rest of the metal world that just can't get past Spencer Sotelo's vocal style. While it did take me a while to get used to, I eventually came around to Spencer's vocals around their second album.

Even though I am now on the fan side of the Periphery dichotomy, I have actually never been much of a fan of their beloved self-titled debut; I've always found to be kind of an overdrawn prototype for what was to come. I gave it a listen not too long ago before this album dropped and it again confirmed my position on it. I did of course find their sophomore effort to be a lot more polished and for the better.

It was with the Clear EP, though, and the subsequent, long-awaited Juggernaut double release though that I really found myself drawn to Periphery, and largely for Spencer's incredible melodies. The band were starting to really find the dynamic between anthemic choruses and crushing djenty heaviness that allowed both of those facets of their sound to compliment each other exquisitely. Songs like "Parade of Ashes", "Pale Aura", and "Feed the Ground" brought the best out of Spencer's slightly scratchy high range through anthemic melodies and set up the rest of the band for the best of the heaviness they had to offer.

The band really set the gold standard for themselves in a lot of ways with Juggernaut though, refining everything that made their sound already great at its best and raising it to a new best. There's djent at its most powerful on songs like "MK Ultra" and "Hell Below", which is absolutely filthy, slow 8-string deliciousness, and the absolutely ripping breakdown of "The Bad Thing" still fucking gets me every time I hear it (and I've heard it a lot). Spencer's highs at the climax of "The Scourge" and his entire performance on the also invigorating melodies of "22 Faces" are absolutely phenomenal as well, and the risky melodic direction of "Alpha" paid off stupendously. Needless to say, I really liked Juggernaut, and while 2016's Periphery III: Select Difficulty wasn't a complete letdown, it definitely missed that divine spark and seemingly the long grooming process that the Juggernaut albums did. It had its moments, but it's still just so overshadowed by the band's magnum opus.

So now a little further down the road from that towering monument of theirs, the band are back with their fourth self-titled album, which is another respectably ambitious effort that seeks to build its own monstrous djent castle on bigger compositions and darker themes. At 63 minutes, Periphery: Hail Stan is quite a beast of its own. Sonically, much of this album feels like a combination of the grandiosity and untethered heaviness of Juggernaut and the rawness and stylistic tendencies of the band's debut LP, and the mixture is, to a degree, predictably mixed.

As much as I love big, ambitious prog metal epics, and I love the idea of kicking an album off with one, the nearly 17-minute, string-backed "Reptile" that starts the album feels so unusually meandering and unnecessarily dragged out for Periphery, and despite the few shining moments in the track, it seems more like the band just wanted to make their longest song than anything else. So while it's not a particularly great start to the album, it certainly comes with enough highlights to not sink it immediately, and it does get better from there. The determinedly deathy, djenty, and eventually anthemic lead single "Blood Eagle" that follows the somewhat misdirected epic finds the band channeling their Juggernaut form into a much more focused and perfected piece than the preceding track, and it very much confirms where the band's strengths still mainly lie. The eerily relevant "CHVRCH BVRNER" subsequently carries the heavy momentum further by upping the speed and even the black metal intensity. Still, the band manage to impressively work in a sweet and fitting melodic vocal hook seamlessly, a testament to their progression as a group and proficiency with their common elements.

The album's second single, "Garden in the Bones", breaks the "kvlt" vibe with brighter, less aggressive instrumentation, hearkening to more ethereal prog metal anthems like "Heavy Heart" and "Priestess" from Juggernaut. I'm surprised the band used it as a single because it's not one of their most impressive contrasts to their heavy style on the album. An electro synth line then opens the following song "It's Only Smiles" much like that of "Alpha", but unlike "Alpha", Spencer's reverting to the debut LP's pop punk melodic tendencies on this song are not effectively balanced and given the vigor they had on the Juggernaut classic. It's not the worst example of the style, but it is the kind of song the band's and Spencer's detractors can point to to feel justified in calling Periphery weak (which is bullshit even just looking at this song in the context of melodic hardcore).

"Follow Your Ghost" follows with more indulgent heaviness but not really much in the way of tasty riffs, unique grooves, or infectious vocal melodies. It's clearly meant to simply juxtapose the lighter atmosphere of the previous track, which it does wel enough at an aesthetic level, but it's a little bit of an autopilot track. The electro beat that starts the next song, "Crush", ushers in an electronically supplemented, bass-y rocker that outshines much of what Underoath and Bring Me the Horizon were attempting on their recent albums. Its a bit long and I wish the climax was a little more climactic, but its consistent infectious bass and the swagger the band are able to pull off with it make up for it.

The following song, "Sentient Glow", is a reworking of a song from a previous side project of Misha Mansoor's and Mark Holcomb's, and it does feel a bit like an outside track that's just been Peripherized. Spencer's ethereal high melody at the song's explosive ending is a nice touch, but I still wouldn't say it alone justifies the song's inclusion.

The album finishes with the angelic and euphorically anthemic "Satellites", which is a bit of a new prog, melodic metalcore power ballad that ascends from atmospheric clean guitar echoes and soft singing into a crescendo of emotive, ambiance-supplemented djent with some of Spencer's most impassioned and impressive high singing atop it, and it makes for a fittingly grand and well-executed conclusion to a similarly massive and ambitious album.

Even where the band so stumble on Hail Stan, they are so tuned in to what they do well when they revert to their evolved form that they more than make up for it. And that's not to say all their musical ventures flop, they do pull off quite a few surprising hits on songs that don't fall within their usual modes of operation. And when they're on their tried-and-true shit the band don't slip up much, showing their focus and full capabilities with their style. It's still not quite up to the level of long-toiled mastery that Juggernaut was, but I definitely want to heap more praise than criticism on this album because so many bands have tried (or half-assed) the kind of reconciling of dense production, orchestration with an older, heavier sound and it usually falls flat on its face, while Periphery have managed to to stay themselves and still channel the best version of themselves even through less familiar means. Unlike the many bands who neuter, malform, or erase their signature essence through forays into bombastic projects like this, Periphery's most vibrant form shined through and kept the background from taking over the album, which is certainly a much more accomplished follow-up to their masterpiece than their previous album was.

Juggernaut: Beta/10

[kekeslider]

Tagged by @florideae

Star sign: pisces

Height: 5′6″

First 5 songs when u hit shuffle on Spotify: i dont use spotify and also im too lazy to do this

Ever had a song/poem written about you: yes and i completely forgot until this moment but in high school a friend around junior year wrote a song for and about me and sang it to me and it was called Spider and this memory slammed into me full force

The last time you played guitar: mm probably 7th grade music class? circa 2007

Celeb crush: steven yeun and jameela jamil

Love/hate sound: cat noises. sometimes i like when they talk to me but sometimes they do it too much and it annoys me

Hate sound: theres this like scratchy noise that i cant describe but its like when felt rubs against itself, it gives me goosebumps and makes me feel cold

Love sound: rain, thunder, white noise but only if its quiet in the background

Do you believe in ghosts: meh not really

Aliens: yes but not in the ancient aliens “they walk among us” way, more like theres an infinite universe of infinite possibilities and its just very likely to me that theres some kind of life somewhere

Do you drive: yes and my greatest flaw is my inability to maintain a reasonable speed

Last book u read: uhhhhhh im staring at my book shelf and i honestly cant remember but lets go with the lovely bones cause i read that fairly recently

Do you love or hate the smell of gasoline: HATE IT. it gives me headaches

Worst injury: broke that dumbass little bone in my ankle and fucked my whole life up forever

Current obsession: hh real talk im still reading k/ance fics on the reg but otherwise im VERY into the good place, but lowkey

Do you hold grudges: ....... sometimes

In a relationship: naw

@uglykeith @cahtra @vampirekallura @buffshe-ra if yall wanna do this

[nanaminswhore]

music game tag

✨R U L E S✨

You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to!

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs with no skipping!

Then tag people to also do the challenge!

☀️N O T E S☀️

Thank you to the lovely and incredibly talented @thedreamlessnights for tagging me! If you are as obsessed with Viktor as we are, please head on to their blog from that good, good Viktor sustenance❣️💕

You do NOT need to add your thoughts about the songs like I have! I just had time in my hands and thought it would be fun! 😆

🌙S O N G S🌙

1. “Sensitive” by MOTHICA

Holy shit this song is so good, if you like alternative rock with a synth-pop overtone, please give it a listen. Absolutely nasty electric guitar motifs in it! Not to mention MOTHICA’s voice is so buttery and delicious 😩

2. “Go for It” by Djo

Joe Kerry has made his way into my heart with his 80’s synth pop swagger ways!!

His new album DECIDE truly is such a work of honest and artistic goodness and has been on repeat for me these days! This song is a good one form the album but admittedly not one of my faves! Can’t wait to get my hands on the vinyl of this incredible album!

3. “I Wish” by Hayley Kiyoko

Oh our lesbian queen Miss Kiyoko 🥰 This song used to get me sooo deep in my gay feels when I first really came to terms with my identity. It is so gentle, so soft, and so bittersweetly honest about the feelings of loneliness that often tags along the existence of being queer 💕

4. “Shukumei” by Official HIGE DANdism

Oh this song is anthemic as FUCK❣️ HIGE always manages to get me imagining myself as the protagonist in the fluffy ending OP of a dark-ass anime sksksks

But seriously, the brass instruments 🎺 + modern synth and mixing 🤖 + Satoshi Fujihara’s light tone & scratchy timber 🎶 = lighthearted, hope-inducing goodness!

5. “Baby” by Relient K

Oh god, the “epilogue” song to the song “Savannah,” is truly a work of art. As a stand-alone song it is brilliant. Alongside its sister song, it truly feels like the beginning of a love that lasts forever. Together they paint a picture of affection and devotion so thankful and honest. It get emotional every time I heart it!

6. “If Only My Heart Could Speak” by Cody Fry

I’m a bit in love with romantic music that make me feel like I’m in a dance sequence in an animated / Disney movie with an orchestra accompaniment!

Cody Fry is soooo brilliant at making backtracks for the movies in my head! The swell, the tenderness, the romance of it all! Ahh!! 💕

7. “A-Yo” by SHINee

Oh my god 🥺 My babies SHINee (all of whom are older than me sksksk). Lucifer is such an iconic KPOP album and one that I feel was part of the greater shift KPOP had in the early 2010s. “A-Yo” is so lightly anthemic and is written and mixed with with hip-hop and R&B influences. So sweet, so nostalgic, and so fresh!! ✨

8. “I Hope of You Think of Me” by Lily Williams

Oh my god this song has been in repeat like no one’s business. The sweetest and softest friends-to-lovers song of the century that I use as the background song to my Steve x Y/N and Eddie x Y/N daydreams 🥰

Lily’s voice is the voice of God’s favorite angel, and twinkle of the brightest star. She is so lovely and so is this song 💕

9. “Just the Girl” by The Click Five

This one is a classic of early 2000’s-boy-band-with-a-guy-pining-so-fucking-hard-over-a-girl-way-out-of-his-league sksksksk

This song was popular for the generation before me but god, I’ve loved it with them since FOREVER. Early 2000’s pop rock is sooooo fun and so nostalgic and so recognizable. One of my all time favorites!!

It also makes for a great gay anthem if sung by a girl 🏳️‍🌈❣️💕🥰✨

10. “Split” by NIKI

This song is sultry and melancholic and has an old Hollywood / winter / holiday vibe! Definitely for the days I need to wallow in a mood 🖤

As an Indonesian person, seeing NIKI come into the international limelight has given me so much pride! 🇮🇩💕 She is such a talented individual with so many fuckin’ pop bops!! Please support your POC artists!!

🎶 T A G S 🎶

I tag @kentoswifey • @faeology • @gh0ullie • @playfulcl0ud • and anyone else who would like to do it!

[banquet-grove]

Buzzsaw on Quaaludes: Killing Joke and the Guitar Stylings of Geordie Walker

Killing Joke has had a sole guitarist since its formation in 1979; a man who never receives the credit he deserves, save from the countless musicians he has inspired and his fans. He is a guitarist's guitarist – a player whose genius you cannot fully appreciate, unless you yourself share his craft. His name is Kevin Walker; but is known to most as ‘Geordie’.

Geordie Walker performing in Finland, 2009. (Photo by Thomas Vitikainen)

There aren't very many guitarists, whom you can recognize on a track solely based on style of play. Geordie Walker is certainly one of them.

Wikipedia describes his "unorthodox style of play" as "Byrds-like chiming arpeggios of repetitive and somewhat somber melodies with a hypnotic long-sustain tone". It is one reason why his play is so instantly recognizable and fascinating, but it is not the whole story.

While experimental in his ethos – and possessing a first wave post-punk background similar to Daniel Ash, Bernard Sumner, or Billy Duffy – Geordie Walker is a different species from these three. He bookends the fiddly, reverberating, scratchy, ingenuity of post-punk instrumentation, with some of the most inventive and memorable heavy riffage in rock history.

This is something which the mainstream has completely failed to bestow due credit for, in spite of concurrently acknowledging his "influence" the scant few times it has deemed him worthy of mention. This is an injustice which Killing Joke as a collective musical unit has long struggled with – the namedropping of stars who have owned their records, taking precedence over their actual music.

Early Output

London-based Killing Joke started out as a wonky dub outfit, releasing their first EP, Turn to Red, in 1979.

While perfectly adequate, within the narrow confines of the style of music his band was then playing; Walker's work on this release was not overly remarkable. It was within the following year, as the band began to take a more aggressive sonic approach – in response to the energetic environment of live shows – that he began to break the mould.

The 1980 single ‘Wardance’; accompanied by the equally famous b-side Pssyche; is a deliciously primitive release. ‘Wardance’ is what would happen if a Neu! cover band, or some other krautrock outfit, performed in "The Upside Down" from Stranger Things. A savage caveman beat by drummer Paul Ferguson introduces a fuzz-laden funk bassline. Then, Geordie does something quite interesting:

His riff on this song is one chord; played with the "scat" rhythm which has long been an aural trademark of reggae, dub, and ska. There was nothing remarkable about this in 1980 – The Clash, as well as other British punk and post-punk acts had been there, and done that. But this particular instance of it, was played with heavy distortion on the open E string – the lowest possible chord in E standard tuning. In other words, this was less of a "scat" and more of a "thwomp".

This minor change to a rather stale trope, was simply a stroke of genius. Killing Joke has downtuned their instruments since the early 80s; and as this video of them performing the song here in the teens shows, it has made the song even more utterly monstrous as it has aged.

On these earlier releases, Geordie Walker had not yet built up his distinctive style to its classic form. The Turn to Red EP, ‘Wardance’ single, self-titled Killing Joke debut album of 1980; and follow-up, what's THIS for...! (1981); were all recorded in E standard tuning, rather than the lower D standard tuning, which has now been used by Killing Joke for about thirty-five years.

More importantly, on all of those releases; plus 1982's Revelations; Geordie is without his most recognizable trademark: his yellow-gold, hollow-bodied Gibson ES-295 guitar. He had not purchased it yet at this time, and instead used a Gibson SG.

[Edit: I've also seen a video of a television performance from this period where he has a Fender Stratocaster, but the band is miming along to a studio recording, and I see no evidence that he ever used it in the studio or during any real live performances.]

Walker's nascent sound on these first four releases was thin and wiry; it is high-pitched, sharp, and has very clear definition, in contrast to his later multilayered textures, blanketing eerie harmonics. But it still has its charm, and the work he does with it is still very recognizably Geordie. But this was Geordie Walker 1.0: a sound that he would leave in the early 80s, and never again return to.

Recently, Jaz Coleman joined the Foo Fighters onstage in Prague to perform ‘Requiem’ off of Killing Joke’s first album. Although the performance is dreadful aside from Jaz Coleman's vocals, I noticed two things: first, three guitarists combined, sounding far less impressive than Walker does on his own; but also, that this may have been the first time that Requiem had been performed in its original tuning by a member of Killing Joke since 1982.

Killing Joke (1980) was the band's debut album, featuring many songs which would later become staples in Killing Joke's live setlist. It begins with the aforementioned track Requiem; a slow, thumping, buzzing, clockwork eulogy for humanity after an apocalypse.

When performed live, to lessen the monotony of repeating the riff throughout the whole song, Geordie will often do some improvisation following the first chorus; slide up from the second fret to the fourteenth to play it during the second and third choruses; or switch from the neck pickup to the bridge pickup during the second and third verses, to back up Jaz Coleman's vocals with a more muddy, chiming tone. All of these live quirks can be seen exhibited during this performance of the song.

Also of interest on the debut album, are ‘The Wait’, a white-hot early industrial metal masterpiece, which contains what may be the grandest riff of Geordie Walker's career. S.O.36 is a rarely-performed, extremely underrated cut, for which he provides dissonant, ghostly arpeggios. I also find the riff of Primitive fascinating; because, (to me, at least) it bears some resemblance to Ron Asheton's riff on The Stooges' ‘T.V. Eye’. Walker is such an underivative guitarist, that it's intriguing when he actually gives glimpses of who his influences may be.

Walker's sound began to evolve on 1982's Revelations. I personally consider it to be a quite mediocre album, but Geordie has his moments on it. The guitar on tracks such as ‘The Hum’, and ‘The Pandys are Coming’ is bone-chilling. This album was supposedly the first on which Killing Joke downtuned their instruments – but only a half step down, instead of the full step D standard tuning which would first appear on 1983's ‘Fire Dances’.

Geordie's tone on the album is far different from the two that preceded it. The distorted, wiry, scratchy, sound of those early releases, was replaced with an airy, clean chime, with a boost to the mid-range frequencies. The result is guitar parts which have a clattering, messy smack to them – instead of a razor edged high-end hiss.

Fire Dances

The sound Walker introduced on Revelations was taken to a logical conclusion the following year, on Fire Dances (1983). The most significant development of his guitar work on this album, was the debut of his signature hollow-bodied 1952 Gibson ES-295. It was a milestone, as swapping out a solid body for a hollow one gave his sound far more resonance and presence.

"I kind of noticed that if you're using a really distorted sound, if you play complex chords, because of the harmonics in the distortion the chord will fucking disappear. I thought... if I got a semi-acoustic I could put like, a contact pickup in it and mix the acoustic sound with electric sound... and I got an old Gibson fucking catalog and I spotted it."

-- Geordie Walker in 2011 (source)

Originally released for use in big band jazz; and other forms of pre-rock 'n' roll music; in 1952, it gained notoriety as Scotty Moore's instrument of choice on Elvis's early singles. Its gold paint-job was considered outrageous at its time of release.

"To me, a hollowbody is the sound of wood making music. A solidbody is the sound of an amp."

-- Scotty Moore, 2015

Of course, in the world of distorted hard rock, and heavy metal, seeing such guitars onstage is rather a rare occurrence. It wasn't at all unheard of in the post-punk and new wave scenes (Billy Duffy comes to mind), but those players don't implement the heavy chugging, nor display other such metal influences, like Geordie does.

The first time I ever saw a video of Killing Joke performing live, I was a bit amused seeing what appeared to be an old fuddy-duddy rockabilly guitar, being used to play songs like ‘Asteroid’ or ‘Total Invasion’. I believed that the man laying down these tracks must have been a long-maned, bearded, metalhead in a t-shirt; and that the robust sound I was hearing must have been an illusion created by studio multi-tracking. I doubt that when anybody hears post-nineties Killing Joke for the first time they imagine an aloof, well-dressed gentleman nonchalantly strumming away at an Elvis guitar whilst puffing on a cigarette.

Fire Dances is Killing Joke gone psychedelic, featuring upbeat songs with vocals that alternate between childishly whimsical, and completely frantic. Geordie contributes off-kilter, dizzying melodies with a playful mood to them.

It sounds as though his bridge pickup began to see frequent use on this release, a development that would greatly expand his versatility both in-studio and onstage later in his career. A switch of pickups can be detected by the replacement of his high-end chainsaw neck pickup tone with a wet, bell-like chime. Nowadays, on many songs he will switch to his bridge pickup during verses (see: ‘Requiem’, ‘S.O.36′, ‘Primitive’, ‘Pandemonium’, ‘The Great Cull’); and on some songs he will do the opposite (see: ‘Love Like Blood’, ‘Autonomous Zone’, ‘Majestic’, ‘Hosannas’, ‘This Tribal Antidote’).

The New Wave Years

Geordie Walker's liberal usage of delay effects on Fire Dances became a staple of his sound in the commercially successful years which followed.

On 1984's Night Time, it can be argued that his sound finally progressed to vaguely what we hear today. Palm-muting and distortion made their return to his repertoire; however, instead of the icy “Geordie Walker 1.0″ sound of the first two albums, his tone maintained a resonance, density, and an imperial dignity of sorts, from Revelations and Fire Dances.

The exact combination of effects used by Walker from Night Time onward are oft-mistaken by those trying to imitate his sound. Chief among these misconceptions is that he uses a chorus pedal.

I have seen many people ask how to get their setup to sound reminiscent of Geordie Walker's on forums, and the other users will more often than not recommend chorus or stereo chorus effects. After spending countless hours fiddling around with my own guitar setup; and watching videos of Killing Joke performances, and interviews with Geordie (a very rare thing to come across); I strongly believe that he does not use – and probably hasn't ever used – chorus effects.

Delay Pedals

Instead, the resonance of his sound comes from (aside from his hollowbody guitar) clever usage of delay pedals. The users of EquipBoard, have compiled a list of some models he is seen using in various videos and photographs. They include:

The Line 6 DL4 Stompbox Delay Modeler. Spotted in a video from 2006 during the “Hosannas from the Basements of Hell” sessions.

The Electro-Harmonix Deluxe Memory Man (era not known).

The delay pedals are set up in a way which mimics chorus, but excludes some of the more "wet" elements of it. To hear the difference, listen to Killing Joke’s ‘Eighties’, followed by Nirvana's cheeky recycling of its riff in ‘Come As You Are’. On the latter, Kurt Cobain is using chorus, and the difference is quite apparent.

I also suspect that he uses a tiny amount of a phaser effect, to give his sound more ‘shimmer’; but I have no evidence to support this as of yet. 

Automatic Double Trackers

Geordie also uses automatic double trackers (ADTs) to replicate the layered guitar sound on records – usually only attainable in the studio. He claims to use two at once, which is undoubtedly a paramount component in the constitution of his gargantuan sound.

The ADTs he uses are "Parmee Acoustics and Collins Electromagnetics (PA:CE) Automatic Double Trackers".

Unfortunately, it appears that the company which manufactured these is long-defunct, and as such this unit is no longer in production (as of December 2018, Ebay appears to not have a single one listed). It is described by Fletcher Stewart at Tone Report to be "perhaps one of the most elusive effect units ever made". Stewart, who was able to cop one of the devices off of the internet somehow, described its key features as "the thickest liquid stereo chorus imaginable, chewy true pitch vibrato, sine wave flanging, detuned slap back and more".

The settings on the PA:CE ADT unit Geordie makes use of, are the slapback and detuning features; which are applied sparingly.

While this specific unit may be nearly impossible to locate nowadays, an automatic double tracking effect can be created by nearly any modern delay pedal which boasts multiple outputs and a modulation feature. Modern ADT units are also available for purchase, but I cannot vouch for their aural similarity to Walker's.

Amplifiers and Heads

In the eighties, Geordie used Burman cabinets. Burman is a defunct brand, and I can find no record of it existing after that decade. As such, they may also be difficult to get your hands on.

At some point following that decade, Walker switched to a Marshall EL34 100/100 Power Amp, used with a Marshall JMP-1 Tube MIDI Preamp. Since then, he has alternated between various Marshall heads, and Framus Dragon Heads. Similarly, he has also used both Marshall and Framus speakers in conjunction with different combinations of those heads. During the Killing Joke 40th anniversary tour of 2018, he can also be seen using speakers made by Blackstar; a UK-based manufacturer founded in 2004.

The Nineties

Walker's guitar work appeared on four albums in the nineties: Killing Joke's ‘Extremities, Dirt, and Various Repressed Emotions’ (1990), ‘Pandemonium’ (1994), and ‘Democracy’ (1996); and industrial super-group Murder, Inc.'s eponymous 1992 album.

Geordie became conspicuously more influenced by hard rock and heavy metal during this period, readopting a heavily overdriven sound for the first time since 1981 for the proto-grunge Extremities, as well as Murder, Inc.; and later introducing Ministry-esque crunchy, repetitive palm-muted power chord riffs on Pandemonium. This was a turning point, as the remnants of Geordie’s new wave past were nearly completely cast into the rear-view mirror.

The musical climate of the late eighties and early nineties essentially saw the end of new wave and synthpop, as bands for whom Killing Joke's early output had been a key influence began to break into the mainstream. This, combined with the abysmal reception to Outside the Gate – an oft-forgotten and widely-panned 1988 album which Geordie’s guitar is barely even audible on – spurred the band to go loud again.

Walker experimented a lot during this period, pulling many new tricks out of his bag which would not, ultimately, carry on into the next decade and beyond. The song ‘Whiteout’ off of Pandemonium is the only Killing Joke song to feature liberal use of a wah pedal. Live performances of ‘Exorcism’, ‘Millennium’, and on occasion, ‘Whiteout’, would see Walker briefly swap his beloved ES-295 for a sunburst Gibson Les Paul Standard outfitted with white single coil pickups. This guitar was only used for these specific songs during tours in 1994 to 1996, and has not been used onstage by Geordie since.

The reason why Geordie Walker decided to bring a guitar which wasn't an ES-295 on tour with him for the first time since the early eighties is not known to me. Occam's Razor suggests he thought that the fat palm-muted tone (on the studio versions of the aforementioned tracks) would be best suited by a solid body guitar; rather than the more airy and resonant hollow body. I've never seen it discussed in any interview of his, nor did the Les Paul ever return when those songs were played on later tours. Regardless, for a brief period, it seemed Geordie didn't believe his ES-295 to be capable of providing the sound necessary for the band's heavier cuts.

It should also be noted that 1996's Democracy featured acoustic guitar overdubs on many of its tracks. Outside the Gate had also seen some sparse usage of an acoustic; but on Democracy, it is often front-and-center, especially on the title track. This was to be the last time acoustic guitar would appear on a Killing Joke album, but in a 2011 interview Walker didn't rule out the possibility of it returning for a future release.

2003 and Beyond

Killing Joke's heaviest album to date, I believe, was their 2003 self-titled release; produced by Gang of Four's Andy Gill, and featuring Dave Grohl as a guest musician on drums. Interestingly, Geordie was reportedly unhappy with how this album was mixed; which is understandable, considering the heavily-compressed loudness war production on the album, which was common in the early naughts.

His sound on the album is a beefed-up update to that which was used on the band's first self-titled album in 1980. It is ferocious, bordering on inhuman. It dominates the album, rendering the bass almost inaudible on most tracks.

‘The Death and Resurrection Show’'s palm-muted two-note riff is primitive and utterly brutal. ‘Asteroid’ sees Walker adopt drop C tuning for the first time, and the song has become Killing Joke's signature thrasher – a setlist staple which has appeared in almost every tour since 2003. Another notable Geordie moment, is ‘Blood On Your Hands’, which has an unusual, dissonant riff that sounds like a groove one would hear on an electronic track.

The 2003 release served as a template for successive new entries in the band's discography. Geordie’s style was perfected at the beginning of the new millennium, and has not seen much change since.

On 2006's Hosannas from the Basements of Hell (my personal favourite Killing Joke album), his sound is heard at its rawest. The high end on the guitar, on this album, could peel paint off walls. Listening to it makes me feel like I'm being devoured by a great machine, or being dragged on scorching hot asphalt. I've seen mutterings on the internet, that the guitar on the album's closer, ‘Gratitude’, is Geordie using a violin bow on his ES-295; but besides his expressed admiration for 60's mod rock outfit The Creation's use of the trick, I can't substantiate this.

While Geordie Walker has shown less interest in evolving his sound since 2003 than he did beforehand; the quality of his playing has been very consistent. Killing Joke's post-reunion renaissance has yielded some of their greatest songs, and Walker's outstanding riffs have been absolutely crucial to their success.

Now entering his sixties, it's a great disservice to music that he is never given his due. But most seem content with dusty old blues rockers, "iconic" hard rock axemen who are frozen in the year 1989, and the same ProTools-molded landfill bilge regurgitated ad nauseum. Geordie Walker, despite his middle age, continues to breathe life into what has become a monotonous contemporary rock & roll listening soundscape; and I hope to god that there will one day be far more unorthodox sounds out there, such as the one he has spent decades meticulously crafting.

Videos

2009 Instrumental Demos

Documentary Excerpt featuring Geordie Walker and the ES-295

Interview with Geordie Walker (2011)

Playlist of Ten Geordie Walker Instrumental Demos (2007)

[alkalineleak]

i guess ill do this here in a reblog :OOOO B) ty for tagging me :D ! n o w sits down ill have you know even if i am a choir kid my appreciation for music just goes to two places ABABAABBABABAB PRETTY and Oh i could use this to make my ocs sad have fun B)

De Bichos Y Flores by La Vela Puerca: OH ITS FUCKING. ENERGY ENERGY IM GOING TO PUNCH A CAR. the trumpts and guitar and percussions along with some fuckin VIBE vocals im talkin screaming and slightly scratchy but hitting every goddamn note- SHIT ITS FUCKIN DELIGHTFUL the amounts of energy in a single album shouldnt be this possible im going to dance i am exploding. i am just a lil guy almsot tripping on my floor as i fuckin GROOVE

The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place by Explosions in the Sky: hi. Here is where i actually cried while listening to this in my math class. the entire album feels like being held tenderly as guitar and percussions just fuckin take you away. you will cry and you will say THANK YOU

You Are My Little Bird by Elizabeth Mitchell: i. also cried here. i cry a lot to songs internally, its because im cool nd sexy! the songs are just very comforting. the embodiment of childhood joy i guess. acoustic strings and simple voice chords- affective all the same.

Who Killed Matt Maeson by Matt Maeson: i learned these songs from my sister! most of them are accompanied by strings and some funk yi think synthes? i study voices not instruments dont @ me /j its a lot of sound at the same time and i find it very enjoyable

The War: Act I by The Family Crest: ....im noticing a theme and that theme is Oh i can dance to this while im crying! and thats only half of this album dont worry- i think. i do not know. sources: bro trust me. but the strings in every single fucking song in this peace make me wanna punch a car and the singers vocals- HOLY FUCK. sits down. please why are their vocals the most smooth thing ive ever heard. his range cna go to the goddamn clouds too, goddamn

Arcane Soundtrack By Various Artists (Arcane, PVRIS, and a fuck ton more holy shi-): okay. so. listen. this is the most self indulgent reccomendation i have here. most would say. Hey. songs kinda. Boring. Generic even. HOWEVER these songs are really energetic and rub my little understimulated brain well. random beep boops a lyric about trauma and some BANGER instrumentals- what more could i want really?

Norma by Mon Laferte: mon lafertes vocals......lovely. and her voice is only enhanced by the fuckin BOMB instrumentals in the background. honeslty norma as an album is just a random assortment of feelings and emotions and just wanna make you Move ! if youre gonna cry or seduce someones wife just turn up norma and put your feelings in the bucket

Coyote Stories by The Crane Wives: sits down. sometimes i am sad and i need these 4 people in a band to scream some sorrows in my ear with strings and drums in the background. and sits down even further, falling into the first circle of hell, man is this albums lyrics good to sift through when youre making a playlist oh f cukn Q_Qqqq in general crane wives have

THE FALLING MAN by Duckwrth: ABABABABABBABA i love this album so much. it scratches the brain and its just really fun to listen to! the artist was reccommended to me at some point in time right and i do what i do and go through their entire discography and see this beauty ! a focus from very soft notes and vocals into hard and very energetic songs make it an album i visit often (especially during class) when my energy levels ebb and flow

A BEGINNERS GUIDE TO FAKING YOURE DEATH! by Jhariah: i like energy and BOY does this album have energy! i found this album after soemone had reccomended the artist adter creating a playlist for a character, and. Fuck i just like it <3 the vocals are AMAZING and make my little choir kid brain go brrr like a ceiling fan. the entire album is just HAHA FUNNY MUSICAL VILLAIN SONGS ! and yknow what? thats all i need <3

uhhh idk who to @ so funny people who follow me or see me on your dash go fucking wild

I was tagged by @callmeshei to talk about some albums I’ve been listening to! Most people have been doing 9 but I listen to playlists more than albums so I’ve got 6 to talk about :)

How to be a Human Being by Glass Animals: this one is the one I’ve currently got on repeat. The sound is very glass animals which I like, and it’s an interesting concept for an album! Each song features a different character’s story, many of which are based on strangers the band had brief encounters with while on tour. The story behind “Mama’s Gun” in particular is wild and makes the song that much more interesting. A bop from beginning to end, even if the line about mayonnaise takes me out of it every time.

Puberty 2 by Mitski: I love Mitski, she’s my favourite artist, and Puberty 2 is my favourite album. I found this album after seeing one of her posts on here from when she used to have a tumblr, it was her singing A Burning Hill and she mentioned writing it at 4am the night before. Anyway, I love the album itself and I’ve listened to it hundreds of times. The varied sound of the songs, from the rough and angry to the desperately sad as well as the relatable metaphors and beautiful wordplay all contribute to how amazing this album is. I thoroughly enjoy all of mitski’s albums but this one has a special place in my heart due to the memories I have from listening to it and it being my first exposure to her music.

Look Up by The Altogether: some fun and simple acoustic guitar, but this time featuring Brian David Gilbert. Not exactly a revolutionary album but I like listening to him sing, and “Sophie” is a particularly nice listen.

Punch by Autoheart: ohohoho Autoheart. There’s something about the flow of the songs and the way the lead’s voice vacillates that scratches my brain in exactly the right way. These are the kind of songs I could loop and stare at the ceiling and before I know it the day would be over. Especially the four absolute bangers in the middle of the album, “Lent,” “Moscow,” “The Sailor Song,” and “Hungover in the City of Dust.” How do they do it

Your City Gave Me Asthma by Wilbur Soot: I don’t have much to say on the actual contents of this album except that I swear I can hear a discord notif at 1:11ish every time I listen to “I’m sorry Boris.” I only listen to this album when I’m in a sad mood… so I do hear it quite frequently lol. It was very much a first quarantine anthem alongside puberty 2! For some reason about half the time that I do put it on I end up accidentally falling asleep which I’m not mad about, I could use a good nap every now and then, thank you Wilbur for the Sad Nap soundtrack tm

Pebble Brain by Lovejoy: honestly? I don’t think I’d like lovejoy’s music if I hadn’t already been into Wilbur’s. It’s quite generic except for the ending of The Fall, and I do like that section a lot. If I was asked for music recommendations, this album wouldn’t be on my list but i do like it so I have been listening to it.

tagging @shurareblog @journal-three @chronophobica @ginsalilbattery @thechildoftwilight @confusion-bunny and anyone else who sees this that wants to do it! I need more music to listen to

[you-andthebottlemen]

2 - Nurse Van <3

“No, I’m fine!” You said defensively, pulling your jacket up around your neck tightly and sniffing a little.

“But you’re not well y/n! I can see that! Just slow down for a bit love. Forget work, get into bed I’ll look after ya,” Van sweetly argued.

You argued back, saying it was just a small cold and that you were okay. In reality, you felt like total shit but you weren’t going to let him know that. You knew that once Van realised you were proper sick, he wouldn’t leave you alone. You had work to do for class and you needed peace and quiet, not nurse Van. Plus, he had the album to work on and you never wanted to get in the way of stuff with the band.

“You look so under slept!” He said in a frustrated tone, which only made you more argumentative.

You just rolled your eyes at him.

“Well alright then, but don’t come crying to me when you feel more shit and want me to look after you and stuff,” he shrugged, as he got his things together to leave for the studio.

“Go! I have work to do! I don’t need looking after. See you for dinner though yeah? I’ll have it ready don’t stress,” and you pushed him out the door.

Van had been your flatmate for years now, which worked well because he was hardly ever there, so really you lived alone. You liked your own space, but when he was there, you were the best of friends. You’d learnt to deal with his cheekiness and his weird friends, just as he’d learnt to handle you no matter what mood you were in; and you knew he loved that, no matter how difficult and exhausting you were for him. He was the type of guy best friend who would act all immature about finding your bra in the laundry but would run at the drop of a hat to get you chocolate and tampons when you needed it, without complaint.

You made yourself some tea and sat down with your class novel, but a few pages in you found your eyes burning and head throbbing of pain from the concentration. Your body urged you to stop and sleep but you pushed through and kept reading even though none of it sank in. Every minute dragged on, the pain shooting through your head. Not to mention your nose, which was now running like a tap.

You put the book aside, deciding to listen to a lecture instead. Halfway through and you could feel your concentration once again declining. You became restless, not sure what to do with yourself. Checking the clock, you realised Van had only been gone two hours, it felt like an eternity.

You winced as your throat started to feel all sore and scratchy; this is what you get for working every day and night and lacking sleep you suppose. Maybe you should have listened to Van when he said you should slow down… It was sweet that he cared enough about you to even say anything in the first place though, he knew you too well. He’d picked up on your moods and he knew when you were working too hard. He always tried his best to help but you were way too stubborn to ever listen to him. But he was the same so he learnt not to argue.

Your head swimming in pain, you dug through the bathroom cupboard in search of some pain-killers; nothing. Shit.

All you wanted was to call Van and have him come home, bringing you tablets and maybe some hot soup…but that would mean admitting you were wrong. You curled up in bed and groaned in frustration, which only made your throat hurt more. You debated with yourself about whether or not to call him. Oh fuck it, you thought.

“Hello y/n, what can I do for you?” Van answered, sounding cheery and smug.

“Vaaaaan,” you whined.

“Oh? Are you not feeling well?” He responded, in the same high pitched jokey tone.

“No…” you whispered.

“I told you not to call me crying! You big baby!” You could hear guitars strumming in the background and Bondy talking in some weird accent as usual.

“We’ve run out of tablets and my head’s killing me,” you pleaded.

“I’ll get you some on the way home, I’ll leave soon don’t worry love,” he told you, back to his normal, caring voice. His sincerity made your heart melt.

You lay curled up in your bed, wondering how on Earth you’d gotten worse so quickly. By now you were all sweaty and disgusting; the fever had hit. It was another few hours before Van got back.

“Honey I’m home!” Van yelled as he crashed through the front door.

He waltzed into your bedroom and you rolled over and frowned at him playfully, sniffing as you did so.

“Aw love you don’t look good,” he said as he came over and put his hand on your forehead.

He pulled out a box of tablets from one of the plastic bags he was carrying then made sure you had water to take them with. He pulled the sweaty strands of hair off your forehead and wiped it with a cold cloth, talking to you gently about what happened in the studio today. He laid comfortably on his side, resting on one elbow with his hand under his jaw. You’d always felt lucky to see the Van that no one else did, as selfish as that sounded.

“This record’s gonna be killer you know, I just can’t fucking wait…” you smiled at his enthusiasm.

Eventually, the pain faded and you nodded off to sleep; the tablets had finally kicked in. Van was a lifesaver.

When you woke up from your slumber, the delicious smell of hot food flooded your room. You wrapped your fluffy dressing gown around you and plodded into the kitchen. Van was behind the stove, stirring a steaming pot.

“Soup! Like you make me when I’m ill!” He beamed.

“You’re a legend,” you smiled, ignoring the mess of utensils and ingredients all over the counter.

He sat you down on the couch with a bowl of the delicious liquid and flicked on the TV. You were impressed with his cooking skills for once. A warm, happy feeling flooded your chest and you were relieved to be feeling a little better than earlier.

“Oh fuck I promised I’d cook tonight…” you suddenly panicked.

“Yeah you did, but don’t worry. Lucky I’m a good nurse,” Van responded with a wink and you laughed, snuggling into the blankets and finishing your soup.

Thank god for your best friend.