#i like the idea of millie having buck teeth.........

[plaguedpriest]

doodled my take on moxxie & millie (not a "fixing" thing, just for fun...!)

[bearlytolerant]

prompt for you: edith asks mason to go with her to see a musical!! bonus points for getting shushed by a fellow audience member. 😏

Thank you my friend for this prompt. Stop sending me fun ideas I can’t handle it! Anyway, I hope you like.

Sensational

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Edith x Mason

Rating: E (for public blow job in the theater)

Word Count: 1182

AO3

-

Wanna go with me to a musical?

I hate music, remember?

Well yeah but what if we make out and you can drown out all the noise?

Or I can come over and make out at your place. You’ll save money.

😑

😏

Okay hear me out. How about I buy these tickets and support the local community while we also make out.

…

I’ll sweeten the pot. Let you get to second base?

I’ll be there.

Perfect. See you there Friday at 8.

–

It’s Friday and Mason can’t believe he’s standing in line at the concessions. At a theater. For a goddamn musical.

There’s people everywhere, pushing in on all sides and he feels like he’s standing in the middle of an ant hill. Everyone’s feelings and general presence are like a million legs crawling up his body. It itches but on the inside.

“The things I do for you,” he mutters.

Edith grins and it’s ridiculous that for some reason, that grin makes all of this worth it. She curls her fingers in his, yanking him close to kiss his cheek.

“I am appreciative,” she tells him.

They’re next in line and she hands over cash in exchange for a small coffee and a bag of honey mustard pretzel nuggets. Weaving their way through the masses, he breathes a sigh of relief when they reach their seats, shadowed in the darkest recesses of the theater. Edith fiddles with her pockets while balancing her drink and snack.

“Can you hold these a sec?” She shoves her shit his direction and he takes it before it drops to the ground. “Well crap. These seat numbers are so hard to read.”

He glances over her shoulder. “Last two on the end. Straight ahead.” He points with a shoulder.

“Thanks. Must be nice to see in the dark.”

“It’s not that dark.”

“Maybe not to you,” she says, taking her drink and snack back.

He follows her as she shuffles down the aisle. They sit. Get comfortable or as comfortable as they can in ancient metal seats with the thinnest shred of material covering them. Edith brushes her arm up against him and the stupid show starts.

He grits his teeth together as the music swells and sends vibrations through his limbs.

“You okay?”

She wraps an arm around him, spreading her palm across his back. His teeth unclench and he breathes deep.

“Yeah,” he says and it’s no lie.

She gently runs her fingers back and forth, a soothing sensation as the first number comes to an end. He glances down at her. Her musical has only just begun and he wants to kiss her—no, find an empty space away from everyone to do more than that. But she’s not even looking at him, eyes focused on the stage. It only makes him want her more. Her fingers crawl up his back and one twirls a lock of his hair around and around.

“What do you think,” she asks.

“That you’re beautiful.”

“What?” He’s got her attention now. “I meant the musical.

He shrugs.

“Shhh,” says the couple in front of them.

Edith giggles quietly against his chest. “That’s Mrs. Miller,” she whispers to where only he can hear. “She was my choir teacher.”

“No shit.” Mason smirks.

Then his lips are on hers and he really doesn’t give a fuck about the choir teacher who wants them to be quiet. His hands explore her neck, her back, her thighs and slip under her shirt sprawling his fingers across her stomach.

She lets out the smallest gasp but balls her fists up in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him as close as possible.

“You keep this up,” he says, “and you might get to third base.”

“I’m looking to get a home run, buttercup.”

He laughs. Too loud. And clearly not at the right time. Mrs choir lady is glaring at him again.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing on her account.” Mason already misses Edith’s lips on his, hand on his thigh.

“Shhh,” Edith tells him and she’s out of her seat, wedging between his legs and–

“Fuck,” he splutters.

“Really?” asks lady who can’t mind her own damn business. “If you’re going to continue to be disruptive–“

Her partner wraps an arm around her shoulders and his words aren’t for Mason’s ears. “Let them have their fun Millie. Remember when we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves?”

“It’s disruptive,” she argues.

And Mason doesn’t catch whatever else the guy has to say because his zipper’s down and Edith’s lips are incredibly warm wrapped around his tip and she’s going slow.

He grips the arm rests on either side of him, grateful there’s not a single soul in their immediate row. Though he’s pretty certain the guy two aisles over has interest in their business. He shoots him a knowing look and that guy melts further down into his seat, eyes staring straight ahead and–

Fuck.

Mason’s attention is back on Edith, who is far more entertaining to watch than this musical. His fist flies to his mouth, teeth on knuckles and maybe drawing blood, to keep from letting out a groan that could rival the soprano belting high notes onstage. His senses are overwhelmed, frazzled on the fringes but her mouth is so wet and warm and–

He utters silent blasphemy and bucks into Edith’s mouth. Her hands squeeze, holding him in place, applying extra pressure and his eyes roll back and he almost forgets he’s in a theater full of a bunch of people. She uses her tongue to her advantage and he wishes she wouldn’t and wishes she would use it more. He is a mess of contradictions but eventually settles on the thought of don’t. stop.

“Mmm,” she says and even after she’s bent him completely and utterly to her will, even after she leaves him shattered and a little overexposed, even after she’s drawn every sensation from him, she keeps sucking.

“Edith.” He’s somewhere between this world and the next.

Undead but dying again.

She raises her chin. Meeting his hazy gaze, an omniscient smirk gracing her perfect lips. She’s been spending too much time with him. His influence has rubbed off on her but she looks so good wearing it.

“I need to use the restroom,” she says, zipping him back up. She stands.

He reaches for her. “Me too.”

“Well then, come on.” She locks her fingers with his and leads him out of the theater.

-

Much later he is home, in their bed, combing fingers through her hair. Enjoying the sensation of skin on skin.

“What did you think of the musical?”

“Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Oh yeah? What was your favorite part?”

“That soprano who could hold that high note.”

She laughs and kisses his chest. Then they fall into their familiar rhythm, a routine of laughter and talking and love-making. It’s been two years of this and still she sinks her sun into his skin. And he wants it–to bask in her warmth forever.

“I love you so much,” she says.

Still foreign sometimes but with each repetition becoming natural, he replies, “I love you too.”

[daggerzine]

Sohrab Habibion from SAVAK (and Obits, Edsel, etc.) fills in the gaps.

I first noticed the name Sohrab Habibion in the Sub Pop band Obits nearly a decade ago. He’d then gotten in touch with me a few years back when he sent me the last Savak record, Beg Your Pardon (the band’s 3rd). I did some backtracking and realized he was in the old DC post hardcore band Edsel, whose music I enjoyed. We got to talking and I realized this guy’s had a pretty interesting career and I needed to find out more. He was more than agreeable to an interview on the DAGGER site. Oh and dig this....he recently he began posting some videos that he took of shows in the DC area in the mid-80’s, which is discussed below. Let’s all thank our lucky stars that someone was there with a video camera at shows back then.

Back to SAVAK, they have recently released their fourth full-length, Rotting Teeth in the Horses Mouth (on the Ernest Jenning Record Co label, like the last few) and it’s a terrific record. The kind of post-punk that’s not afraid to pOp! and vice versa. So needless to say Sohrab had plenty to talk about. Let’s take a trip both down memory lane and back to the future as well.

Sohrab.... always pushin’ the hair products.

 Did you grow up in the DC area? If not how did you end up there?

I moved to the suburbs of DC in 1979. My mom and I drove through Hurricane David from my grandfather’s house in Leonia, New Jersey to Annandale, Virginia with all of our possessions in the back of a Chevy Chevette. We had just left Iran because of the Revolution and, after a short stay in Bergen County to gather ourselves and do some research, my parents decided that we would resettle in the DC area.

Do you remember what the first record you ever bought was? First concert?

First record: It was a cassette of Love for Sale by Boney M. Actually maybe that was a gift from a friend. Either way I think of it as my first-owned album. I quickly had the lyrics to “Ma Baker” memorized and never gave a second thought to just how weird the cassette cover art was. If you’re not familiar, perhaps imagine an S&M dungeon version of Ohio Players? As a 7-year-old I think it just didn’t register. More interesting is that the producer, Frank Farian, was also the guy behind Milli Vanilli. If you’re up for it, I recommend doing some Googling about Mr. Farian, who was born Franz Reuther just after the start of World War II in a German valley settlement once known as the “Town of Leather.” It’s good stuff, I promise.

First concert: A friend’s older sister drove us to the old 9:30 Club to see one of the club’s 3 Bands for 3 Bucks nights. I remember feeling pretty excited about being in a part of town I didn’t know and seeing all kinds of people I didn’t ordinarily see. This was probably 1983 or 1984 so it was heavy on the New Wave look. In the basement of 9:30, once you’d squeezed down the narrow flight of stairs, there were bathrooms as well as a small counter that sold records and tapes. I bought The Halloween Cassette—a WGNS comp with Gray Matter, United Mutation, Velvet Monkeys, Malefice, Bloody Mannequin Orchestra and others—and the Minor Threat record that compiles the first two 7”s. On our drive home the DJ on WHFS played the song “Minor Threat,” which we literally had in our hands, and the whole thing felt tremendously serendipitous.

During his tryout with the Washington Bullets (Elvin Hayes beat him out). 

At what age did you pick up the guitar?

One night my mom came home from a school fundraising auction with an acoustic guitar that she’d won in the raffle. I actually think it might be the only time anyone in my family has ever won a raffle. I was 13 or 14 and discovering that I was not as good of a baseball player as I’d hoped or wanted to be and the guitar felt more connected to my interests, so I started to teach myself chords and rudimentary scales. It wasn’t long before I was able to get an electric guitar and make a complete mess of sound in neighborhood basements with friends.

How old were you when the punk rock bug bit you?

Thirteen, I think. I’m pretty sure it was 7th grade. I didn’t know a lot about rock music. Having spent a chunk of my early life in Iran, I missed the boat on a lot of big, American rock’n’roll moments. I was 9 when I was first exposed to KISS by neighbors who were also in the Boy Scouts and so I kind of lumped all that costuming together and the whole thing seemed silly. Special badges and membership cards and various allegiances you were supposed to declare. I felt disengaged from a lot of things in the suburban culture around me, so punk made sense upon its arrival. It took some time to sort things out, like what made the Dead Kennedys good and The Exploited bad, but once that initial door opened, I never turned back. If anything it just opened additional doors to other subcultures and underground movements and marginalized artists and thinkers. Punk helped me recognize that my sympathies will always be with the disenfranchised, the unheralded, the amateur, the wandering tinkerer.

How and when did Edsel get together?

I met Nick Pelliocciotto and Geoff Sanoff (who wouldn’t be in Edsel for a few years) at a Government Issue show at the Hung Jury Pub. Nick and I briefly played in a band with Jim Spellman (Velocity Girl, High Back Chairs, Foxhall Stacks), but that fizzled out. So Nick and I were looking for a bass player when we saw Steve Ward play a cover of “White Rabbit” at a high school talent show. Nick and I agreed that Steve looked cool (he really did) and, when we ran into him in the parking lot, he passed our test by answering that his favorite DC band was Happy Go Licky. We started practicing in the basement of the house Nick, Jim Spellman and I lived in off Reno Road in the Cleveland Park neighborhood of DC. We didn’t know what we were doing. Nick played me a bunch of records I had never heard before and we would talk about various details in the music. He made me aware of the way certain things interacted, like the bass guitar and the kick drum. I’d never considered that. I was also unfamiliar with singing in a band, so was starting from scratch. A lot of it began as rhythmic sing-song-speak-howling that could be heard somewhat above the volume of the band. I’ll never forget recording our first demo at Inner Ear with Michael Hampton. When it came time for me to do the vocals we were all surprised by what they sounded like and Michael nicely said, “Why don’t we call it a day and you go home and work on some melodies that we can record tomorrow.” Ha! When Nick and I got back to the house we listened to a bunch of albums to get ideas for vocal melodies. The one that resonated with me was Midnight Oil’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and it helped me understand how you could take a simple line and move it around with chord changes. I didn’t figure out what phrasing was for some time to come, but that was the start. Thank you Michael, Nick and Peter Garrett.

How/when did you end up in NYC?

Well, it’s a circuitous story, but . . . Edsel toured a lot between 1993 and 1995. So much so that I moved back into my parents’ basement to avoid paying rent for a place I wasn’t going to be spending any time in. My folks are lovely and it was a fine arrangement, but I missed having an apartment of my own. On tour in Chicago I was presented with the opportunity of a cheap living situation in a city that I liked, so I moved there. I had this fantasy that the band could keep it together while being in 3 different cities—Geoff had moved to NYC and the two Steve’s were in DC. Not a chance. I had a good year in Chicago, working at the Empty Bottle and playing with different local musicians, but Edsel basically succumbed to inertia and I decided to move back to DC to make a solo record. My parents had a cabin in the Shenandoah Valley and I went there for a period of time with my 4-track and the hopes of discovering whatever my version of Leonard Cohen and Brian Eno might be. That didn’t happen, but I learned a lot about recording myself and making mistakes and stumbling on things I liked that I hadn’t intended. Around this point I got a call from Michael Hampton, who’d moved to New York City a few years earlier. He said his neighbor in the West Village had moved out and he wondered if I might want to take the apartment. I was feeling pretty untethered and the idea of giving Manhattan a shot was exciting, so in November 1997 I packed up my books and CDs and headed up here. I’ve since crossed the bridge over to Brooklyn, but have no plans of leaving. I love this city and all of its flaws.

How about Obits? I know Alexis was in Edsel….had you known Rick already?

Alexis played in Edsel for a few reunion shows we did in 2013, but he wasn’t in the original lineup of the group. I first met Alexis in 1985 when Lünch Meat, his band, played with Kids For Cash, my band, at my local community center. He and I also share a birthday and a similar sense of humor, so when he joined Obits after the departure of Scott Gursky, our original drummer, it was an effortless transition. I’d also played with Alexis in Girls Against Boys on a 2002 European tour that Eli couldn’t do. I was Fake Eli and got to play bass on some of my favorite GvsB tunes, which was a blast. Alexis has a humorous diary from that tour: http://www.gvsb.com/euro_diary/index.html

Here’s an excerpt just so you know it’s worth the clicks:

“scott has determined that we should get rid of all the equipment and excess drummers and bass players and just travel with a painted sheet (we in the biz call this a scrim). that way he could have a band painted on it and just cut out the head of the singer and stick his own head through. this would reduce overhead and be a whole lot less of a hassle than having squabbling bass players and drummers with no IQ whatsoever.”

Rick and I met at an art show of his in the summer of ‘99. In fact, in looking to clarify the year I came across this email I sent to a friend:

“Last night my friend Hiroshi took me to an opening of his friend Rick Froberg’s work in some unknown Lower East Side apartment/gallery. I was shocked at how incredible his stuff was. His etchings like Goya’s, his prints like a German expressionist and his paintings like a weird amalgam of Raymond Pettibon and Norman Rockwell. But everything was very original despite its familiarity. He gave me one of his prints and I actually ended up buying one of his paintings. I’m really excited about it.”

Funny thing is that on that European GvsB tour I was wearing a Hot Snakes shirt. Little could I have guessed that I’d be in a band with Alexis and Rick 10 years later. Or maybe I could’ve? Our behavior and patterns are probably more predictable than I’d like to admit.

Anyway, long and short of it is after meeting Rick we started hanging out and as Hot Snakes was winding down in the early aughts he proposed we get together and strum our guitars. We had a good time and kept at it until things started to take shape. Fast forward a bit and our friend Speck browbeat Rick into playing with her band, Orphan, at Cake Shop. That was early 2008 and the internet did us a favor by sharing a bootleg recording of our gig, which led us to signing with Sub Pop. Seems just as weird now as it did then, but so it goes! The band was a hoot to be in and we had a grand time, particularly touring. The trips we made to Europe, Australia, Japan and Brazil were fantastic. I never thought I’d be able to do that playing scrappy rock’n’roll music. All the people that we met, the local specialties that we ate and drank . . . and drank . . . and then ate some more. Unforgettable. Until I forget them. Then I’ll refer to the documentation.

Obits.....always ready to rumble (notice the switchblade comb in Froberg’s pocket). 

Tell me about the end of Obits and the beginning of Savak? Who came up with the name?

The end of Obits was a little unexpected. At least the timing of it. All bands end, so it wasn’t surprising in that regard, but we had a French tour planned and had been offered some East Coast dates with Mudhoney, so it was a bummer not to be able to do those. But it had been a cold and miserable winter and Rick had some family stuff to marshal, so it felt best to call it, which is what we did on April 1st, 2015. The April Fool’s part wasn’t intentional, but I liked that it happened that way, what with being in a band often feeling like a cosmic joke anyway. But we’re all still good friends and very much in touch with each other. Funny thing is we’d actually written a fourth record with two drummers, as Matt Schulz had started playing with us as well (we did one show with both Alexis and Matt, which was fun), so on my hard drive somewhere are the demos and jams for that, including covers of “The In-Crowd” (https://youtu.be/KYbwk26mYJA) and Beasts of Bourbon’s “I Don't Care About Nothing Anymore.” (https://youtu.be/IpWi4OxhJXY)

Towards the end of Obits I’d started getting together with other friends to make noise. I was playing with Greg Simpson and Matt Schulz, doing instrumental versions of Hooterville Trolley and Shadows tunes, and separately with Michael Jaworski and Benjamin Van Dyke, just bashing out riffs. I asked all involved if they would want to combine the two and everyone was into it. The nice thing was Michael and I got to write with two different drummers, which opened up new ideas, and for a band that was just getting the swing of our internal vocabulary, it helped jumpstart the mojo.

I can’t remember at what point we were talking about band names, but when Viet Cong couldn’t take the heat for their name and decided to change it I made a joke about calling our group SAVAK. Then the more I thought about it the more I liked it and the group was on board, so we ran with it. The Iranian side of my family was a bit perplexed and bemused, but they all understood that this was a rock’n’roll outfit and not some creepy tribute to the former secret police in Iran. I’ve come to appreciate how that type of band name is a good litmus test. With a moniker like SAVAK you can see who actually knows anything about global political history, but more importantly you immediately know that anyone who takes issue with it isn’t likely to be interested in or even be familiar with punk rock or underground culture. So that person’s opinion on the subject doesn’t hold weight for me and I’ll attempt to redirect to a different subject that could be entertaining to chat about, like food or wine or bicycle maintenance or John le Carré books or, I dunno, HTML/CSS?

Savak has been recording pretty consistently…how did the new record come together so quickly? Who came up with the title?

Michael Jaworski, the other guitarist, singer and co-songwriter, came up with the title of Rotting Teeth in the Horse’s Mouth. Apparently it appeared to him in a dream and, well, I just liked the way it sounded. Both in that it reminded me of the DK’s classic Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables and as a play on the idiom “hearing it straight from the horse’s mouth,” since the current mouth we hear more often than is good for anyone’s mental health has enough proverbial rotting teeth to fill the mouth of a giant armadillo.

We worked on the album over a period of months. Sometimes we would get together with Matt Schulz, our drummer, and hammer stuff out. Other times either Michael or I would start something at home and build it from there. The main thing was to keep it feeling like a band had cut it together live, regardless of how accurate that may be on any given song. We started with 16 tunes, ditched 2 of them that weren’t as developed, and recorded the remaining 14. Then we picked the 10 that sounded the most cohesive for the album and the others will come out as singles later in the year. We spent many intensely focused hours editing, overdubbing and trying to really hone in on what each tune needed. I like discreet events in music and subtle details that may not make themselves evident for a few listens. A keyboard that only appears in the second verse or a backing vocal that’s buried deep in the right channel of the outro or a flanged cymbal crash at the top of the chorus. Stuff that doesn’t have to happen in the live version but makes the recording a little richer without being overbearing.

SAVAK, just before diving in. 

In Savak, re; the songwriting process, is it both you and Michael together or do you write independently?

There’s always a collaborative element. We each add or edit the other’s songs to some degree. That’s one of the things I really like about our partnership. We actively try to keep our egos out of the way. And while we may not share the exact same taste about every little thing, we trust each other’s sensibility. I think that willingness to let go of our own ideas makes them more interesting and strengthens the working relationship.

Tell us about working with Arto Lindsay?

Rick Froberg was employed as an illustrator at a web-based, digital media shop in SoHo called Funny Garbage and he helped get me a gig making music for cartoons and video games they were producing for companies like Cartoon Network. I had access to a recording studio on a floor above our office which was run by an incredibly talented musician/producer named Andres Levin. One day ‘Dre asked if I could work on a session with a friend of his for a gallery installation. It seemed interesting, so I agreed. The guy showed up with two pillow cases that he wanted to put on his arms and flap wildly in front of a mic. His idea was to pitch the pillow case recording down a few octaves and add a lot of reverb so it would sound like a giant bird was flying. I don’t remember if he was pleased with the results, but we had a blast trying, and it turned out that fella was Arto Lindsay. He got in touch with me soon after about recording his next album. I was direct about the fact that while I was brisk with the ProTools and could run sessions efficiently, I was not a real engineer who knew about microphone placement and how to apply compression, etc. He said that was fine and arranged to rent a recording rig for his apartment and we got straight to work with Melvin Gibbs, who is Arto’s writing partner, co-producer, and bass player. We made Invoke in 2002 and two years later we made Salt, once again doing the whole thing in his Chelsea living room. Arto’s a wonderful guy, as is Melvin, and we had a terrific time together. I also learned a lot. He has such a deep knowledge of avante garde music and art and a whole world of Brazilian culture that he can tap into. And Melvin is an incredible musician, so getting to see how he approached assembling Arto’s ideas was fascinating. He was also forgiving with the fact that a punker like me was trying to edit Brazilian rhythms when I was having an impossible time even identifying the first beat of the groove. There was a lot of, “Please just tell me where the ONE is.” Arto knows a wide array of people and the process of making a record with him was very much about getting it done, but not at the expense of the vibe, so if someone dropped by you’d just have to roll with it. Sometimes that person would bring their instrument and overdub on a song or two, so I had to figure out how to be flexible about the recording process to make sure it was gonna be smooth for all involved, regardless of if it was a violin player or a guy doing a percussion track using a cardboard box. I ended up calling Geoff Sanoff for advice quite a bit—to the point where Arto would joke, “Is it time to call Geoff?” Ha! But he knew the deal going in, so all was fine. The experience of making those records was great and I got to meet some interesting folks. Also my appreciation of Brazilian music completely exploded. An unexpected and super cool project with Arto, Debbie Harry and Mikhail Baryshnikov also came from that. Another side note: when we were recording Invoke there was a song which Arto wanted to get Animal Collective involved in. This was 2001 and they were still more of a record store employee kind of band, but Arto had a couple of their CDs (Spirit They’re Gone Spirit They’ve Vanished and Danse Manatee, I think) and was really into them. We arranged to go into Stratosphere Sound, the studio that was owned by Adam Schlesinger, Andy Chase, and James Iha, where Geoff Sanoff worked, and do the session there. They had an interesting way of working—they would manipulate all of the instruments, including live drums, and have everything run through their PA and then have Geoff mic the PA speakers. So the final thing was this gauzy, mushy, blur that was like a sonic paste. They totally knew what they were doing and I was particularly impressed with Noah/Panda Bear as a musician.

Speaking of legends, how did you begin collaborating with Michael Hampton?

First we should be clear that we’re not discussing “Magic” Mike Hampton AKA Michael “Kidd Funkadelic” Hampton. According to Discogs, the Michael Hampton I know is “Michael Hampton (3)” of Brief Weeds fame. He’s a few years older than me so I missed his days in SOA and The Faith, but I was a fan and saw him in Embrace and One Last Wish. I attended American University in DC and ran into him on campus, told him I also played guitar and suggested that we “jam sometime.” Knowing him now this detail cracks me up because I’m positive I freaked him out and that he was horrified by the idea of “jamming” with an arbitrary, long-haired frosh. Some time after Edsel started we asked Michael to help produce our demo, as we were clueless about the studio. And when he was in Manifesto our bands played together and we got to be better friends. After he moved to New York, it was he and his wife, Monica, who encouraged me to move here. They also introduced me to my wife. And for the last 15 or so years we’ve worked together on soundtracks for indie films, documentaries and commercials. I can’t recall how that collaboration first started, but I love working with Michael. He’s got a quick wit, so there’s lots of yucks involved, but he also has a remarkable knack for music composition and knows how to layer ideas for perfect cinematic effect. As a guitar player he remains one of my favorites. Michael’s distilled Bob Andrews from Gen X and Captain Sensible and George Harrison and all these choice rock’n’roll and punk players into something distinctly his own.

Somewhere in Madrid, Spain (Spain Radio Nacional) 

Tell us your top 10 desert island discs?

That’s tough. I’d like to ensure a bunch of different moods are covered, so let’s see . . . how about:

Hamza El Din - Music Of Nubia

Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou - Éthiopiques 21: Piano Solo

Mark Hollis - s/t

Skip James - Today!

Charles Mingus - The Black Saint And The Sinner Lady

Mission Of Burma - Vs.

The Rolling Stones - Sticky Fingers

Television - Marquee Moon

The Velvet Underground - s/t

Wire - 154

Who are some of your favorite current bands?

Bed Wettin' Bad Boys, Cable Ties, Contractions, FACS, Gotobeds, Grey Hairs, Hammered Hulls, Hot Snakes, Light Beams, METZ, Mint Mile, Modern Nature, Patois Counselors, Pays P., Rattle, Skull Practitioners, Slum of Legs, Sunwatchers, Tanning Bats, TK Echo, The Unit Ama.

I know I’m forgetting stuff. There’s a ton of excellent music being made right now.

What’s next for Savak? Once the lockdown is over will you guys tour?

It’s hard to be certain about anything these days, but I do know we’re eager to play once the Javel water has cleared. My hope is that we reschedule our UK tour as well as the shows we had on deck with Archers of Loaf. We were also trying to coordinate a Japanese tour, which we’d love to do, so I’ll add that to the list.

In the meantime we have a couple of non-album singles coming out later in the year.

I love making music, so whatever form it needs to take to make it work given our circumstances I’m fine with. Wanna jam on our phones? Hit me up!

SAVAK’s new one- Rotting Teeth in The Horses Mouth

BONUS QUESTION:  Tell us about all of those shows you recorded in the 80’s and have been putting up on the Dischord page? Great stuff!

Thanks! My mom bought me a Sony Betacam in 1985. I honestly had no inclination towards videotaping anything prior to this, but I think she may have thought it was a positive thing for a teenager to get involved in instead of playing Atari or hanging out at the Orange Julius at the mall or whatever. So I had this camera and I started taping what I was doing, which was basically going to shows. I didn’t think much about it and I never watched the tapes afterwards, so just slowly built up a collection of recordings that sat in a box at my parents’ house for years. It wasn’t until James Schneider started working on what eventually became the Punk the Capital movie that the tapes were unearthed. Then Scott Crawford wanted to use them for Salad Days and had the genius idea of getting Dave Grohl’s production company to digitize them, as they wanted footage for that Sonic Highways show. So at Scott’s suggestion I sheepishly asked if it was something they could do and they immediately said yes. I was pretty stunned by their generosity. The tapes themselves are now part of the Punk Archive in the DC Public Library, which is both cool and hilarious. The idea of random stuff I videotaped when I was 15 being part of an institutional archive is pretty absurd. Now that I’ve got this extra pandemic time to spend in front of my computer, I’ve been editing down each set, adjusting the light balance so the footage is less murky and also remastering the audio so they sound better. The timing of the Dischord Records Fan Page on Facebook is fortuitous, as it provides a reasonably eager audience for what might have otherwise just been a few additional gigs of server space being cooled in a Google data center in Moncks Corner, South Carolina.

“Who you callin’ a low life?” 

www.savakband.com

www.savak.bandcamp.com

[mackenzie-wolf]

You've got a lot to learn p.2/3?

Request from Anon

Becca x Older Woman (O/C)

Nsfw as it goes on...

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As becca arrived home, still caught up in her own thoughts, she took a minute to compose herself before opening the front door. Already she could hear her housemates inside, talking and laughing amongst themselves. She walked through the open door and all eyes quickly landed on her. Chris was leaning back on one of the beanbags, Zack was drawing at the dining table and Kaitlyn was sprawled out on the couch with Milly's head resting on her chest. With a sigh, becca turned towards the stairs, trying to escape the oncoming conversation.

"Woah... Oh no you don't!" Zack called, pushing away his sketch pad and rushing over to becca. "We're all waiting to hear about your first real day at work!"

"Hell yea! I'm dying to know what a working day is like for the legendary Miss Davenport" kaitlyn grinned, earning her a slap on the shoulder from Milly.

"For real becca, how was it?" Milly asked, chris glanced over at becca expectantly and with an optimistic smile. Becca took a moment to think of where to start and what to share.

"It was ok. I wasn't working with joaquin today which was kind of a bonus..."

"So, who were you working with? They didn't just leave you on your own did they?" Chris asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"No. I got put on... someone else's team. It was... it was fine."

"I think someone is holding out on us..." kaitlyn said almost mockingly.

"Urgh! I was put on a team with Robynn, my new team leader. We assembled furniture all day." Becca said as she shrugged off her jacket to hang up. "Am I free to go now?"

"Uhh, sure..." Chris responded.

With that, becca walked up the stairs to her room. Once the door was closed, she let out the breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. Quickly getting herself settled, becca changed into her pyjamas and started wiping away her makeup. She climbed in to bed and started scrolling through her phone. In a state of curiosity, she typed Robynn's full name into the search bar on her social media app. The picture that came up was of robynn, taken from the top of the cliff she was abseiling down. Even in the picture, becca could see the definition of her muscles and the sheen of swear that made her upper lip glisten. Her mind started to wander, thinking of the firm hands that gripped her shoulder earlier that day, how soft the touch really felt underneath the strength that it carried.

As her thoughts took her deeper in to remembering all the characteristics that made up Robynn, Becca's door suddenly knocked. She quickly locked her phone and readjusted her pyjamas that had become creased as she lay in bed.

"Yes?"

"Becca, can I come in?" Chris' voice called from the other side of her bedroom door.

"Of course" she said, trying her best to pull herself away from her thoughts and back in to the room. Chris entered, looking a little concerned. He gave a smile and sat at her desk chair while she sat up on the bed, swinging her legs over the side.

"Becca. Are you ok? You didn't seem like you wanted to talk about work. Did something happen?"

Becca almost felt herself blush as she realised how she avoided giving anyone any real details. "No, nothing bad happened. It was just... different. Im still learning."

"Your new team leader isn't pushing you too hard? I know how it can be when you're trying to impress someone and..."

"WHO SAID I'M TRYING TO IMPRESS ROBYNN?!" Becca snapped back at him before he could finish his sentence.

"Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Chris began sheepishly.

"No. Its fine, sorry. Just trying to wrap my head around something." Becca said with a sigh.

"Well, maybe we can talk about it?" Chris asked, trying to sound inviting.

"Its just... I don't know. I tried working hard because I want to be good at this job. I want to be able to make my own way in the world but..." she sighed again. This time sounding more exhausted. "... I think I was only trying so hard to impress Robynn."

"I could guess that..." Chris laughed. "...He's literally all you mentioned about your day at work."

Becca decided not to correct the pronoun. She hadn't told anyone yet about her attraction to females and now didn't seem like the right time. Not when she was so confused herself.

"Well, Robynn made it a lot of fun... not just because they're fun to look at."

"Wow, so this already sounds kind of deep, right?" Chris asked calmly, ignoring the slight tinge of jelousy he felt in his chest.

"Don't get me wrong, Robynn is fun to look at too. Such amazing eyes and teeth that pretty much 'ping' with light. And those arms!" She trailed off.

"Ohhh he sounds hot!" Zack called from across the hall, where his bedroom door was open a few inches.

"Damn it Zack!" Becca screamed before throwing her head down on to her pillow.

"Becca, I'll leave you for the night. But if you ever want to talk... just call me ok?"

"Thank you Chris" she said earnestly. "I mean it." With a smile and slight nod, chris left the room and becca lay back on her bed. Her thoughts began circling her head. Knowing she was clearly attracted to robynn was one thing, but now working along side her most days would be difficult. She thought back over the times she caught her looking for an imperceptible second before looking away. The times that a wink or bright smile had made her heart flip. 'Was she flirting with me? Or did I just want her to be? She didn't have to ask me to work with her directly...'

Becca's mind flew back to watching her lift the different pieces of furniture. The way her arms swelled with tension, the definition of them. The way her abs looked in the tight vest that hugged her curves. Becca let out a weak sigh as she drifted further in to her thoughts. The idea of Robynn's arms flexed around her, those deep, burning green eyes staring at her longingly. She found herself dreaming of brushing her fingers, lightly down the hardness of her abdomen.

Gripping her sheets with one hand, becca let out a slow breath as her other moved lazily from her stomach, downwards. All at once, images were flashing in her mind, some from what she remembered, others that she put together herself. Before long, becca could almost feel robynn there with her. Her fingers moved underneath the waist of her pyjama bottoms, then lower. A gasp escaped her lips as her fingers went to work, pushing a small amount of pressure where she needed them most.

Biting her lips to try to hold in any sound became pointless as her fingers moved faster against her. Every thought of robynn touching her, kissing her, using her strength to hold her down when her hips tried to buck. It brought her closer to the edge, where she held herself for a few minutes before giving in to the sensation. Dreaming of Robynn between her legs, tasting her, made becca come undone. Her legs bent and her toes curled down as she felt the sensation pulse inside of her like electricity. Becca lay on her side bringing her knees up, with her hand still between her thighs as she caught her breath. With one last movement of her fingers, she gasped, trying to hold in a small laugh at how quickly she had given in to thinking about her boss this way.

Becca had cleaned herself up and settled back in to bed. Checking the time on her phone, she noticed she was still on her social media app, on Robynn's profile. Almost blushing after what she had just done at the thought of the woman in the display picture, becca closed the app. Moments later, she had drifted to sleep, filled with dreams that matched her fantasies perfectly.

The next day before leaving for work, becca took some extra time to apply her makeup and made sure that her hair was perfect. Putting on her work shirt made her effort seem pointless. It was difficult to imagine anyone looking attractive in it. At least Robynn's was just plain white with the stores logo printed on the chest. She picked up her keys and walked to the front door when her name was called.

"Becca..?"

Turning around, at the top of the stairs, Milly was making her way down, having obviously just woken up. "Good morning Emily"

"Good morning. You off to work?"

"Yep. Bright and early" she said trying not to deviate from the small talk.

"Cool, I hope you have a good day" Milly gave a bright smile before turning toward the kitchen.

"Emily... I..." Becca started. Milly stopped and turned to face her. "Can we talk? Just for a minute?"

"Yeah sure" she answered gleefully.

"So there's... this person..." Becca trailed off.

"At work?"

"Yeah. I think that maybe I..." she sighed. "Em... Milly, how did you come to terms with being attracted to women?"

"Ohhh..." Milly's eyebrows flew up in realisation. "...so you're.."

"Yeah. I've known for a while that I... like both, I guess, but it's been easy to ignore before. I like guys too so it just seemed easiest to be with them. People are less likely to ask questions, you know. As for my family, they're not big on anyone being different in any way, really. So I've never really considered being with another girl."

"But you don't want to do that anymore?"

"No... I want to... There's a girl that just, I don't know. She seems worth it."

"Well, if she's good enough to make you want to take a leap and finally see where this path goes; then I'd say go for it. She must be pretty special."

"Oh god, she is. Beautiful too, and she never stopped trying to help me. She was so thoughtful and sweet and..."

"And you're those things too becca, and more. She'd be lucky to have you. Anyone would." Without another word, becca wrapped milly in a brief but tight hug. As she let her go, becca pushed her emotion down and adopted her best stoic look.

"Thank you milly"

"You're welcome. Have a GREAT day at work" she winked prompting a sigh from becca. With that becca left for work, trying to hold back a smile the whole way there.

As she arrived, the staff were just finishing their coffees in the staff lounge. Becca's eyes scanned the room, looking for Robynn's impressive frame amongst them. When she didn't see her, becca poured herself a coffee and sat on one of the small (overused) couches.

The chatter in the room died down as more staff went on with their day. Becca's eyes closed as she tried to find the enthusiasm to get to work. Suddenly, she felt the couch shifting next to her and she let out a sigh.

"Could you not sit so clo..." she opened her eyes and saw two deep green pools looking back at her.

"Sorry. Guess I'm attracted to the smell of coffee" Robynn grinned before moving down the couch a couple of inches.

"No... its fine!" Becca stammered. "I thought you were... I don't know what I thought." She blushed.

"Yeah, I get that way in the morning too. Good thing this is just a work partnership. Could you imagine the two of us trying to cook a breakfast between us" Robynn laughed.

'Yes... Yes I definitely could. Straight after we built up our appetite in bed' Becca thought to herself, only throwing a small chuckle at Robynn's joke.

"So... shall we get to work?" Robynn asked, slapping her knees before pushing herself up from the couch. "I wanted to talk to you about something anyway..."

To be continued

[dweemeister]

The Nutty Professor (1963)

During my childhood, my only knowledge about Jerry Lewis was rooted in his annual Labor Day telethon for those struggling with muscular dystrophy. His comedic career was secondary to me, having never seen his movie or television work. Going into The Nutty Professor – directed, co-produced, and co-written by Lewis, who died on August 20 – I realize that my contemporary knowledge was informed by a young teenager’s opinion that slapstick humor after the silent era just isn’t funny. The Nutty Professor (parodying Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) did not transform my opinion of post-silent slapstick movies, but I saw how – to numerous generations – Lewis provided not only laughter, but comfort to those seeing themselves as outsiders, those who may never see themselves as anything but an outsider.

Lewis’ outsider character here is chemistry Professor Julius Kelp, quietly mocked and derided by his own students outside of the classroom, and whose pocket protector, lab coats, buck teeth, and nasally voice embody all stereotypes of scientific nerdery. Kelp, loquacious to a fault and never failing to shudder when threatened by a more physically imposing individual, wants to change. Not only does he go to the gym – imagine if this movie was instead set around the time Zack Snyder’s 300 (2006) premiered – and find himself flustered with the equipment, Kelp also creates a concoction that turns him into Buddy Love. Love is a sexy, sexually-driven, self-centered skirt-chaser that has his eyes on Stella Purdy (Stella Stevens), who just also happens to be Julius Kelp’s crush. When Buddy Love reverts back to Professor Kelp (being in the Jekyll and Hyde tradition, only he knows of the transformation), Kelp retains all the memories of his alter ego and understands how destructive that character is. Nevertheless, Kelp – excited by the thrill of being Buddy Love – continues to take the serum.

Also appearing in The Nutty Professor is Del Moore as Kelp’s boss/department chair Dr. Warfield and Kathleen Freeman as Millie Lemmon.

Whatever The Nutty Professor’s messages are (and I will address those in a later paragraph), they are buried underneath the romantic attraction that will develop between Professor Kelp and Stella. I profess ignorance to societal norms in the early 1960s regarding non-platonic professor-student relationships, but I found myself quite uncomfortable regarding how The Nutty Professor objectifies Stella as the blonde bombshell of the classroom – sitting at her desk, speaking in near-seductive tones, framed by soft lighting effects. This is not an age difference issue, as Lewis and Stevens’ ages are separated by eight years. Instead, my ideas of professor-student relationships are strictly academic, professional. The approach taken by Lewis and co-screenwriter Bill Richmond to have such a relationship weakens The Nutty Professor by denying the character of Stella of having much agency or interest outside of her pursuing a romance with Buddy Love or Professor Kelp. Stella Stevens’ performance is sufficient, but it matters not when her character is a bore to watch. Yes, this might be a Jerry Lewis vehicle, but the best comedies evolve beyond a single punchline, idea, or concentration on a specific character.

This is Lewis’ best-known performance, and is often considered his finest film work. Beneath the bowl cut and despite the hunchbacked posture and ill-fitting clothes, slight twists in the face and the loneliness expressed just through body language and the eyes, there are some parts to the portrayal of Professor Kelp that make it impossible for the audience to laugh all of his anxieties and pains away. He is a breathing cartoon character in the best possible sense, and oftentimes it is easy to dismiss such figures as fiction, warped in their wacky world of illogic and comical misunderstandings. But for the introverts among us, we recognize our societal inhibitions immediately, what we believe to be our personal weaknesses and failures immediately. That even includes the scene – relating to the previous paragraph – where Kelp is practically drooling over Stella, picturing her in a swimsuit, as well as a prostitute’s clothing. His desperation for what he believes is love is evident; not even Lewis’ best performance can make this comedy any more consistent.

As Buddy Love (historically rumored to be a hyperbolic representation of Lewis’ comedic partner, Dean Martin), Lewis accepts – perhaps only for the purposes of this movie – the idea of a man-eat-man world. After Love’s hilarious introduction, brilliantly captured with point-of-view camerawork and gaping mouths across the nightclub, the complete passiveness of Professor Kelp dissolves and is replaced by the hypermasculine jazz singer:

STELLA PURDY: And I always say that to love yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, and after watching you, I know you and you will be very happy together. BUDDY LOVE: Just a minute, sweetheart, I don’t recall dismissing you. STELLA PURDY: You rude, discourteous egomaniac! BUDDY LOVE: You’re crazy about me, right? This morning, looking in the mirror, I enjoyed what I saw so much, I couldn’t tear myself away.

Stella’s inability to tear herself completely away from Buddy Love is toxic, subjecting her to his insulting behavior. She cannot look away. Nor can we. This difficulty in understanding, recognizing, and disowning this unhealthy sexuality (that last phrase may cause a ruckus from those advocating completely liberated expressions of sexuality of all types, but I stand by this description) towards a fantasy – from within and from others – is realistic, but when the character of Stella is as undeveloped as she is, it becomes sickening.

Aside from the troublesome sexual politics, The Nutty Professor understands and sympathizes with those lacking in self-confidence, devoid of self-acceptance. In the process of personal reinvention, the opposite of what an individual (lacking in the aforementioned qualities) is might not be as meaningful or worthwhile once that opposite is achieved. The film’s climax, featuring both Professor Kelp and Buddy Love, is an effective conclusion – honest, though banal and as garrulous as the former character can be. Maybe Jerry Lewis, given his personal life, is and was an imperfect messenger for The Nutty Professor’s overarching moral, but his attempts are genuine and this film is certainly his most personal work; viewers and fans should note that Lewis’ less noble half is closer to Buddy Love than his virtuous half is to Professor Kelp.

Single moments of hilarity and interest are also present throughout in Lewis’ best movie, earning a spot in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry –  marking it for preservation – as part of the class of 2004. The Nutty Professor is rife with thematic contradictions, like all lives worth living, and harmed by various elements now dated. Other gags are extended beyond their expiration date. Nevertheless, The Nutty Professor is as close to being a cartoon as any Hollywood live-action comedy ever released.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.