#i love that there's so much Steve Reich on here

[kickerofelves]

André 3000 Digs Jazz

André 3000 shares his favorite jazz songs

[greenfiend]

Mike and Will’s love will save Hawkins

Everything, and I mean everything has been leading up to this point.

Let me explain how the power of gay love will save the day…

#doorgate or #gategate

🚪🍑❤️ + 🔑🍆⚡️

TW: mentions of sex and brief mention of CSA

If you’d like to read this with a soundtrack:

So it’s been a while since I made posts about Lover’s Lake… and to be honest I thought aspects of my theory were kind of silly (but of course who cares this is just for fun). But now I’m back and more confident than ever that Lover’s Lake will be an incredibly important location for ST5, especially for Mike and Will.

To begin, let’s start with the physics set up within the show. Why physics you say? We are talking about the love of two gay nerds afterall (one of them named after a famous theoretical physicist)… of course physics is involved!

Way back in season 1, Mr. Clarke helpfully taught us how to create a doorway between two worlds. This doorway would require a massive amount of energy… “more than humans are currently capable of creating”. I appreciate the subtle hint of a possibility that one day humans could create that level of energy.

In season 2 we have Steve helpfully explain to us this alternate electricity exists. He also related it to a storm and then distinguished it from a regular electromagnetic field.

Now, interestingly enough within the book titled The Montauk Project: Experiments in Time (the conspiracy which inspired Stranger Things so much that it was originally titled Montauk), there is a mention of this type of energy as well:

“Reich was known in part for his discovery of “orgone” energy, which is orgasmic or life energy. His experiments revealed orgone energy to be distinctly different from ordinary electromagnetic energy.”

So to sum it up so far, we have learned:

1. In order to create a doorway, a massive amount of energy is required.

2. There’s an alternate form of energy known as “orgone” energy “like a sexual electricity”.

Okay. Now unto season 3…

So, season 3 had the Russians attempt to “open the gate”/door once again after it was closed back in season 2.

Back in 1984, the Russians manage to get the door slightly open but it keeps closing. The Russian working on the project begs for “more time”, shortly after (like right after the opening credits) we hear the line “just a little more time could open closing doors” from the song playing while shown a picture of Mike. Later on, we have Will claim he’s “not going to fall in love” and then the song plays “love that is new to you, you open up the door”.

We also get this association for Mike. Mike is the one who could open closing doors, in other words he is "the key".

Okay wait lets go back to the science here!

The Russians have "the key" which is said to "emit a great energy" so much so that it can "open a doorway between worlds". Alexei also mentions how the location of where the key goes matters, it is "half of the equation". They chose Hawkins because, the gate has already opened there. (I talk more about the implications of that here). In case you haven't figured it out yet, Mike is "the key", and Hawkins = Will (remember, Hawkins is not the same without him).

Mr. Clarke is back again with some more science! In this scene, he actually associates an Electromagnetic Field with two people! Implying that two people can create their own Electromagnetic Field. But of course Clarke-Byers' field is stable because there is no sexual electricity between them.

So…

We have Mike referred to as "the key". The key can create a doorway with the right location. Hawkins is the right location and Will is implied to be “Hawkins”.

Two people can create their own Electromagnetic Field.

Okay wow, are you guys still with me here?

These friends are indeed electric…

The very first one was way back in season 2. Mike placed his hand on top of Will’s and right after we cut to Will’s drawing. Look closely… there’s lightning! ⚡️ It’s “sexual electricity”!

In season 3, the electricity only grew between but simultaneously so did the subtlety of it all. They held hands in the movie theatre. Yes yes they did! That’s why we are shown a movie playing with hands popping out! This is what “triggered” Will (manifesting as a reminder of the shadow monster…). But most importantly… this is how the power went back on in Hawkins.

In season 4, it’s arguably even more subtle… but the clues are still present! Mike and Will lock eyes while the electricity flickers. Then we have the final scene which shows us a cloud resembling a heart above them with lightning! Heart with lightning… keep this in mind for later. We also have a very tiny “Live Mike” poster on Mike’s bulletin board… the association with Mike and lightning/electricity is clear…

Even in the marketing, the lightning is very much present. Notice specifically the lightning with the heart in the first picture…

Doors that keep closing…

The show constantly makes references to closing/opening doors. The gates opening are an aspect of this too! I have good reason to believe that this all leads back to Will.

I go over the door symbolism in this post but I’ll give a brief summary:

So far each time the gates have opened within the show, they have opened without Will’s consent. Now, I mean this on multiple levels. I mean this as the closet door- as people keep opening it by insinuating his sexuality. I also mean this in a more deeply tragic way. Child sexual abuse… to be blunt. This is why he’s desperate to keep all the doors and gates shut… even if it kills him. It’s a reality that forever haunts him, worse than any monster imaginable.

Will has such deep trauma that it manifests as monsters within the show. This is why I believe Will has been struggling far more than we are shown explicitly. In case you’re unaware, during the 80s and prior, there was a deeply homophobic belief perpetrated by society that gay people (specifically gay men) were predators. As a victim, Will is terrified of becoming a predator… becoming “the monster”. He’s frightened of himself.

I believe that… Will has been “pushing [Mike] away” far more than we know. He is desperately in love with Mike, yes, but the hatred he has for himself is far greater at this point in the show.

He needs to learn to love and accept himself despite all that he has been through. He needs to know that he is not a monster, and that his love and sexuality can be a beautiful thing. He needs to do this independently of Mike. Mike will be the key to his door when he’s ready.

To sum up everything thus far: doorways/gates require A LOT of energy, sexual electricity is a form of energy, and Will is associated with doors and Mike with keys. Got it?

The Russian Code

You may have already seen my post on this but it’s *very* relevant here so I’ll summarize (read the post for more depth):

The week is long because Mike and Will will be separated. Emotions affect time afterall.

The silver cat feeds the “silver cat” is a gate/doorway. Mike and Will are both associated with being a “snack” because they feed it sexual electricity thus causing it to open!

When blue meets yellow in the west. Mike will be stuck in the “East”/the UD, then return to the “West”/right side up to meet Will.

A trip to China sounds nice, if you tread lightly. “China” is on the other side of the “silver cat” doorway. Mike and Will will reach a new world through this doorway.

Again, if you think I’m reaching, please check out this post as I outline the clues in much more depth.

Opening multiple doors

As mentioned earlier, Mike is the key to opening Will’s door. This has multiple meanings:

Figuratively: Will’s closet door. Mike is struggling with his sexuality as well, but he will likely accept himself first, and inspire Will to follow.

Sexually: Will will open himself up sexually to Mike. They will have an intimate scene. I’m positive of this now.

Supernaturally: A portal door/gate to another world.

He’s truly the key to his heart…

What I theorize will happen…

So based on all the clues I’ve outlined (plus more) I will break down how everything will likely happen (leading up to the climax):

Mike confronts Will about the painting. Now, I truly believe Mike already knows that the painting and speech was all Will. He knows Will well. Will downplays the significance of the painting though making us (the audience) believe that he’s not actually still in love with Mike. (This could be why Noah now views Will’s love for Mike as a spoiler 🤔).

Will continues to push Mike away but more explicitly. Mike is frustrated. Tensions are high! Mike is “banished” to the UD, as well as nearly half of our main cast. They reunite with Max.

Will is devastated that Mike is gone. Will then faces severe homophobia and cruel accusations made his way (likely connected to those who went missing). Without Mike, he falls apart. The insecurities around his sexuality reach a boiling point for him. This will be represented by the US military closing off all the gates, separating half of our main characters from each other.

Will finds a letter from Mike. We (the audience) will realize (if we are paying attention) that Mike loves Will through the reveal of the “Love, Mike” written at the end. Will will not realize/believe it, but he is given the courage to fight on.

Will spends time with his mother and friends who express to him how much they love him unconditionally. As he starts to slowly accept himself, the gates slowly show signs of opening up.

After a long week of separation, on one fateful stormy night, Mike finds a way to escape the UD through watergate and Will is there to retrieve him. Will is likely not alone, he’s with the “right side up” crew on a boat trying to save those in the UD. Only Mike is able to get through the gate… (possibly through radio communication with Will, they create enough electricity for the gate to open).

Mike and Will are soaking wet and Mike is injured, thus he and Will make their way to Reefer Rick’s Lakeside House. They have to remove their shirts, and the sexual tension is through the roof. Will tends to his wounds and sparks fly. Mike reveals just how deeply in love he is with Will and how much it pains him that Will has been so closed off. Will turns away- not wanting to hear it at first, thinking he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve Mike’s love.

Tears start pouring down Mike’s face as he continues to tell Will that he’s done with hiding, and he’s done with pretending that he isn’t in love with Will. Will stops, finally starting to believe Mike’s words. Mike, thinking that his words still aren’t getting through to Will, turns and starts walking away. Will calls Mike’s name, Mike swiftly turns his head. He says “I love you too” while in tears, walking towards Mike. He then kisses him ever so passionately! Mike is taken aback with wide eyes for a brief moment then is quick to shut his eyes, grab onto Will for dear life and reciprocates the kiss very enthusiastically. They go horizontal on the bed, Mike on top.

While they are making love enough sexual energy is created for thunder to erupt and lightning. One giant lightning strike hits right in the centre of Lover’s Lake into watergate and opening it up completely! The (heart shaped) lake is literally a broken heart resuscitated by electricity. The water from the lake is parted right in the middle (think Moses parting the sea… or perhaps… like a surfer boy?) making it possible for everyone to walk out easily from the gate. It opens it up SO much that everyone trapped there escapes. They’re all freed!

The sun rises, the storm clears, and of course- there’s a giant rainbow. Will and Mike wake up and smile more brightly than ever as they recall the events of the night prior. They walk out hand in hand and head towards the end of the rainbow. They find a new gate hidden behind watergate and descent into it together. It’s fairyland. They then agree to start their own party, just the two of them.

Fairyland/Feywild

Credit to @byler-alarmist and their post for bringing my attention to this very likely possibility.

The Feywild was a place of unrestrained and awe-inspiring natural beauty. The plane is always bathed in twilight of the setting (or perhaps rising) sun, with lanterns and fireflies providing additional, haunting lights. Visitors to the plane found that all sensations, both sensory and emotional, were heightened. Smells were stronger, colors were more vivid, and sounds were clearer, but at the same time shadows were darker and impulses were harder to control. x

Feywild is a location in DnD just like Shadowfell (which likely represents the UD).

What better way to represent love and acceptance than a beautiful green realm full of light? I assume that it will resemble the real world, just like the UD. I’m also guessing that Mike and Will will find the remnants of the old Creel house and rebuild it as their own castle/fortress. (Credit to @thestrangestthing89 for this beautiful idea.)

Rewriting History

After WWII, the alliance between the East (USSR) and West (US, England etc) dissolved and then began The Cold War. Leading to Russia and the US essentially becoming enemies. They viewed each other as a major threat to their safety. They also were in major competition with each other, specifically regarding space exploration. Each nation wanting to be the first to reach the Moon.

Germany was a nation that ended up being “split” into the East and West. The Berlin Wall divided the two sections. The song “Heroes” by David Bowie is about lovers separated by the Berlin Wall. In 1989, the wall fell and Germany was no longer divided.

Where am I getting at with this? Well, I believe that Stranger Things is both majorly referencing this conflict, and rewriting history. Let me explain. I think that the scenes with the Russians are representative of Mike’s struggles. He feels as though he has no choice but to conform- not unlike those who live under communism. We see he is slowly escaping this mindset, however, as we watch some of the Russian characters rebel against their government.

Yes that means- the US government represents Will’s struggles. They view El as a monster that needs to be contained/removed. This is exactly how they viewed gay people during the AIDS crisis. We see resistance there as well though… through Owens.

In Stranger Things, the gates are the Berlin Wall. Once they open up again (properly… with Will’s consent), the division between the nations will cease. The war will come to an end.

Instead of one nation “winning” the space race, Stranger Things will end with both “Russia” and “America” reaching a new world together- as Mike and Will.

All you need is love

This is the whole message of the show. So many times we let fear and hatred take over us but we must always remember… we can choose love. In a world full of division, we can choose inclusion. We can choose to extend understanding and patience to others who are different or who may hold differing beliefs. It’s all up to you. You hold the power. It’s your choice. Choose wisely.

[deerfoxbard]

@sketchbookweek Day 1 – Home

My first ever Sketchbook Week post! Very happy to be here :)

Of course I had to start off with the least controversial topic possible– cucumber sandwiches! This is my thesis on my love for cucumber sandwiches and sketchbook (and they're love for cucumber sandwiches). The second verse is a bit of a self-insert, two lesbian experiences of mine that made for very good sketchbook fodder: looking for an event with pretty lights and getting caught in freezing rain, and listening to this amazing piece by Steve Reich (Youtube link) and holding hands for the first time <3

Thank you so much to the wonderful @blaithnne for the art! Working with them was just lovely, and I'm excited for you all to get to see the rest of what they've made :D

[tg-ace]

Watched MI-5 today (and I had to keep myself from yapping about the gays to much) with my friend (@cloudy-patches). Here’s the nicknames and quotes we came up with!

Pt.3

MI-5:

Lane - Sam Reich / Host of Game Changer / Steve Jobs

Hunley - Hunts Evil CIA Twin (start of movie idea) / Tax Collector

Ilsa - Proper Lady In Murder

Altee - Rat Vr.2

Vinter - Not So Sigma / Friend: “I can literally never remember his face, ACE has to keep reminding me.”

Added names for reappearing characters:

Ethan - Gentleman / Short King / Drift King / Love Sick Lover Boy (Benji)

Benji - Ghillie (suit) / Gamer, Gay Man (my quote) / The King of Norway / Passenger Princess / BENJI NOOOOO! 😥🫣😭

Brandt - Uncle

Quotes:

Friend: “Why are Tom Cruise’s (Ethan’s) pectoral muscles in a dungeon?”

Me: “BENJI!!!! 🫶🫶🫶😊😊😊♥️♥️♥️, ETHAN!!!! 🫶🫶🫶😊😊😊♥️♥️♥️.”

Me every 15 minutes: “GAY, THEIR GAY. 🫵”

Friend every 15 minutes: “BENJI NOOOOOO!”

Me and friend: “NOOO STEVE JOBS (Lane)!”

Me and friend: “STEVE JOBS (Lane) IS TWEAKING!!!”

Gays… I love those two gays… 😊🫶♥️

Welp 6 is next, and I know my friend is gonna suffer through it all. 😊🫶 (Next week though 😔).

[dwestfieldblog]

LUNATICS RUN THE ASYLUM

(I began this in late October before the election and don’t want to edit, just to insert what a great victory for Putin in the USA eh? The End starts here. Wilhelm Reich was right. Ever read The Psychology of Fascism? Do.)

See Trump ‘dancing’ on stage for thirty minutes like a tacky cruise ship comedian, hear him say the January 6th 2021 riots were ‘a day of beauty and love’? A deranged liar, a racist, sexual scumbag, mocker of afflictions, disparager of captured soldiers, fondler of his daughter, friend of Epstein…a deeply corrupted, petulantconvicted criminal who should be in prison, or at very least a mental hospital having straitjacketed remedial English lessons. Never let a man with a small dick (or one testicle) be the Fuhrer. And he wants Robert F Kennedy, a loony who was against covid vaccines etc, to be in charge of the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention etc. Selling bleach cures?

Doubling down on all his pet eating nonsense and boasting of using ‘the weave’ when he delivers speeches and interviews…rather than the insane ramblings of a bigoted idiot. The ‘weave’? As if he is a master story teller with arcs and plot lines only he can perceive with random surrealist chaos. His weave is a tangled web of malignant and despicable lies. … The orange Don praised Hitler’s generals for their loyalty and ranting about ‘enemies within’ needing to have the army turned on them. General Mark Milley said; ‘(Trump) is the most dangerous person to this country…a fascist to the core’. And sofa humping Vance the Vice called him the ‘candidate of peace’. Christ on a trampoline.

So, a fascist German teams up with a South African racist, what could go wrong? The world’s richest man with the cheapest soul, AKA ‘Free speech’ (unless you disagree with him) Misinformation Musk jumping up and down on stage beside him, crying that if Trump loses, it ‘will be the last election’. As if Kamala is going to go all totalitarian in the USA. Perhaps ‘Dark Maga’ has his eye on a future presidency…his appalling interview with (yes, that’s right, Tucker Carlson the Putin fellating lapdog) was almost all inverse to actual facts and wilfully blind to what DT has actually said and done…and the evil direction to which he moves. So much for ketamine Elon. Trump is the ‘antichrist’.

Musk (who has top secret security clearance in the US) has been in regular contact with Putin since 2022. Baldie recently asked Musk not to deploy the Starlink internet system for Taiwan as a favour to his mate President Xi. Lovely people. Meanwhile Elon started to bribe folk one by one in the swing state Pennsylvania with one-million-dollar lottery gifts. That’s how desperate he is/was for the toupéed man baby to win. At the same time hoping the US will default on its deficit in January because he (and Trump) can make a mint with gold and crypto and become de facto Masters of North America. ‘Normal’ people losing their jobs and savings are irrelevant to these filth-pig ass clowns, yet these are the ones who are the most gullible to Donalds tangled weave and will vote for their own redundancy. Like turkeys voting for Christmas.

The whole crap sack of main Trump fans are deranged. Musk, Vance, Majorie Taylor Greene (she of the ‘Jewish space lasers’ idea) the evil ugly bitch ‘proud Islamophobe’ Laura (‘If Kamala wins, the White House will smell like curry’) Loomer, the grifters and utter cowards of the Republican party, Mike Johnson, Fox News, the corrupted judges, nutjobs R F Kennedy and Alex Jones, Steve Bannon, the Proud Boys aka the KKK, the foul coven of unholy money worshipping evangelicals, those in the UK who support him…Russell Brand, Lawrence Fox, Nigel Farage, Tommy Robinson, Piers Morgan, Boris, and around the world, Orban the toad in Hungary, Netanyahu the corrupt, Kim Wrong ‘Un and of course Putin, who needs his fat Caligula gimp back in power.

By his sycophants and masters, shall thee know him.

One of Putin’s billionaire shoeshine boys, Bidzina Ivanishvili of the Georgian Dream party has promised a ‘Nuremberg trial’ of the opposition parties if he wins. (The recent election seems doubtful but it is always the way that the older and the rural will vote more than the younger. He wants to turn the country into another Belorussia…Many old fools miss Stalin; the good old days of show trials, neighbours denouncing each other…dragged screaming into the past.

China and India continue to buy Russian oil and gas and thus support the orc invasion, London is still laundering oligarch money, Iran sent attack drones and ballistic missiles to Russia…who then complain about the West sending munitions. Both sides fighting a proxy war, seems safer that way for the rest of us than going nuclear. So far. Putin has sent the first of a possible ten thousand north Korean troops to be cannon fodder in Ukraine as well as early release for Russian prisoners of all ages if they fight. And as for the Middle East…. Arg.

Arg. Perhaps it is because this year I finally realised how old I am/appear to be, and all which that entails…and am projecting my sense of dread into apocalyptic visions of total dystopia. BUT. It really does seem as if the dark forces are coalescing and metastasizing all over the world.  The Bastards will never earn respect through fear but will be increasingly paranoid power mad energy vampires seeking complete control. Full spectrum dominance indeed. And all the Ego Immortals will live forever on a Musk space station, uploaded as cyber souls in a virtual paradise with E Lon as The Creator. What is left of humanity will be enslaved (to an even greater degree than before), working to extract the very last goodness from the planet to build the machines…rhodium in its high-speed state and white powder gold and etc. Arg.

All those who fell for the con trick of ‘it’s us against the Illuminati/New World Order and the corrupt old system’, who voted against their democracies and for the axe, will be confused to find themselves in a corrupt system of a real New World Order where their lives have blatantly zero value other than as slaves. A planet run by types such as Putin, Xi, Trump and Musk. The twisted, evil and insane men will spin this globe into a nightmare holocaust of oblivion. So, congratulations suckers. Here is your world, now eat your own excrement.

‘Better the pride that resides in a citizen of the world, than the pride that divides when a cloth or rag is unfurled’.  Neil Peart. Damn right. And no religions too.

Seems likely that my future postings will stick to writing about everything other than politics, religion and totalitarianism. Perhaps a goulash of multicoloured collage stuff from here on out. Diaries, musings, ‘poetry’, memories and recommendations… staying weird but without all the endless ranting. Might be healthier for us perhaps.

Right now (October 31st) I feel the world as we knew it in terms of basic Western democracy is very close to being destroyed by the machinations of the East, but mostly thanks to the greedy scum over here aided by the badly educated drones who yearn at heart for the forced order of tyranny. As long as they feel a ‘purpose’ to their lives. Which will be to serve those who declare themselves their betters, with the liar’s promise of a better life in return for complete acquiescence, obeisance and obedience. Or else.

Nothing seems to have changed much in human evolution, it is the same do-do, just more fake alpha males like scared children seeking total control for their own security.  Bastards leading idiots, revolutions turning…into the system.  Primate survival updated with weapons of mass destruction and harnessing viruses. Enough money BUYS ‘justice’, rich criminals are never punished, con merchant priests still fool their flocks with utter bullshit to get their cash and bathe in hero worship.

The best minds are ridiculed, mistrusted, absorbed and diluted by the mainstream or worse by the dumbest neophobes. Art, theatre, writing, science, collectively the humanities, regarded with suspicion, too gay, too intellectual, progress is the Devil. Only soundbite Tik Tok bread and circuses reality tv gameshow soap operas are acceptable. Short attention spans are encouraged, so as to blind-side the public to the perpetual ‘find the lady’ con trick perpetuated by the State.

Humans are easy to rile up and manipulate when they are desperate, so to the ruling classes (and those who would be so) it is always worth keeping their citizens and voters on a knife edge of stress via finance, health and existential threats. Those who think Trump will root out the ‘deep state’ blah blah and take power from the rich are going to have a rude awakening from the American Dream, as he will just keep the money where it always stays. With the plutocracy. The billionaire tax dodgers who demand you pay them to exist.

The East has taken its revenge and infiltrated the West to the extent that its own people are turning against themselves in the name of patriotism and ‘God’. Their puppets are numbered heavily among the leaders on the Right and the rising populists…traitors who are selling out their countries for power, status and wealth. The mass who supports them are usually the mentally vulnerable, those who have been encouraged to be scared and angry among the elderly, the young and the working classes, and the middle class who feel their comfortable lifestyle is in danger.

All are being manipulated by actual, genuine enemies to divide and conquer for them. Break up Europe, the United Nations, NATO, Britain and North America…Trigger events to cause a steady flow of endless refugees so all member states are deeply freaked by foreigners. ‘There are no natives anywhere in the world – everyone is from somewhere else – all people are refugees, immigrants or aliens.’ George Carlin

‘Think for yourself, question ‘reality’, question ‘authority’ Practice good mental operational security…critical thinking. Ignoring actual global warming as we bury deeper into virtual reality and tik tok dumbing down with absolute denial, Sidestep the madness, close down and go within. Remain in this world to work but with as much amused detachment as you can manage. The scared children have voted for what they believe will bring security. Not much of that when daddy is crazy. Poison is often part of the cure but Trump is just corrosion. So, over the Rubicon we go. ‘Russia can do whatever the hell it wants’. They will. Their carefully placed and financed useful idiots/ poleznye idiot in high places in the West will take the gold and betray..

So, no more politics from here on out. Enough already. The present is tense, so love, laugh, learn and live, Reconnect. Love again…and remember…

‘Magnetic and gravitational fluctuations appear to cause the majority of occult phenomena and alter brain wave patterns…psychic windows, hallucinations external and mental.’  Stay fine😊

[panopticum]

2: Who got you into the band you adore now?

6: Favourite Album?

8: Songs that you could listen to forever and never get tired of?

13: Favourite lyric?

27: What song/album do you listen to when you need a pick-me-up?

40: When did music become an important factor in your life?

46: It’s 3 in the morning and you wanna DANCE. What song do you blast to the heavens?

48: All time favourite photo of the band you currently adore?

I know you probably have fun answers :3

finally getting around to this and I’m sure I will think of other answers right after posting - so it goes!

2. fave band - the Peter Gabriel thing was a total divine accident. I was out dancing at an 80s-90s music video mashup night and Sledgehammer came on. I remember hearing the opening flute riff and seeing some guy near me contort his body in sudden recognition. the first beat hit and I can only imagine this is what people feel after doing their first hit of some deadly euphoric drug. the rest is history; I felt something in my brain go *clunk* and it was game over.

6. ahhh so many over the years but right now it’s Us by Peter Gabriel. I’m a total basic bitch for a good melody and that album is full of them, not to mention extremely relatable themes around longing, connection, “am I the problem,” and more. honorable mentions go to Age of Adz and Carrie and Lowell by Sufjan Stevens, Not Even Happiness by Julie Byrne, the original Hadestown album pre-Broadway, and O True Believers by James Blackshaw.

8. soooo many PG songs. but also: O.N.E. by Yeasayer, Music for 18 Musicians by Steve Reich, Fake Empire by the National, and many more.

13. “we took the town to town last night/we kissed like we invented it”

(not sure if this counts but the “shh…listen” at the very end of Secret World, too)

27. I tend to listen to sad music when I’m sad lol. but: the Graceland album by Paul Simon is a good one. also the song Number One Fan by MUNA.

40. mmmm to keep it brief: I’ve always been a deep feeler and music felt like the one thing that could mirror that. I grew up listening to a lot of hyper-melodic music like Yanni and inventing dances to go with it. I was in band and choir all throughout high school and college and kept singing in different groups after college. now I get such a charge out of dance, karaoke, live shows, and jamming on my uke. music has also helped me remember moments in my life, i.e. the first time I heard a Julien Baker song while driving through southern Colorado in a rainstorm. like life snapshots.

46. to pick only one: Let’s Go Crazy by Prince (a previous artist hyperfixation lol)

48. this was VERY DIFFICULT ahaha but:

I just adore this photo. it captures so much I love about this goofy man. I really relate to his perfectionism and tendency to get sucked into details. I love that he’s not a do-it-in-one-take guy like Prince. he’s obsessive and kind of lost in his world. but still tries to look up and out at the rest of the world around him. plus I love that Parachute label he wore so much of in the 80s (like this jacket here). p.s. I of course wanted to post some egregious 90s photo of him but there were too many to choose from.

thanks for the asks; this was fun <3

[declanlikesmusic]

Today's Listens: Episode 001

August 5th, 2023

This is going to be the first in a series of posts where I basically go over what I've listened to in a day. I spend a lot of my usual day shuffling through my RateYourMusic wishlist and deciding what to listen to then, if not doing anything else. You can find them all on my RYM account and also sift through everything that I've listened to since I made that account. I might not post on every day, don't expect this to be consistent, but I like music, like talking about music and like sharing my thoughts to you all. Let's begin!

Green Day – Insomniac (1995)

Thought I'd kick my day off with a total rocker, which is definitely healthy after cleaning your ears. I'm not a big Green Day fiend, but I ended up just barely loving my experiences with their two big records Dookie & American Idiot, so I thought it only suited me to dive into their catalogue more and see what I can get out of it. Insomniac is more of the same that they contributed with Dookie, however, it's much more homogenous. At least ten of the songs here sound about the same to me and the only standouts are slight deviances or singles that I've already heard, which even then are not that different either. That said, if you're a big pop punk lover, I can't see why you wouldn't love this one at least.

6.9 / 10

Standouts: Brain Stew, Walking Contradiction

Monstercat 008: Anniversary (2012)

I really don't take enough time to shoutout my love for the Monstercat label, especially their earlier years. I'm slowly going over revisiting their EDM compilations and I've now surpassed nearly their first year in releases. By this point, they've already reached their first utter peak with 007: Solace and while this slightly dips from that peak, 008: Anniversary continues their streak of great compilations that truly started with 006: Embrace. By this point, while some tracks still remain rudimentary and even a little primitive in a few rare spots, the collective of talented producers continued to refine their growing densities while still introducing more cool peeps in the process. I still recommend Solace if you're starting out, but this is still a great followup and a very consistent one at that.

7.8 / 10

Standouts: Hipster Cutthroat, Ocean City, Daybreak, Don't Push Me, Black Magic

Maxime Denuc – Nachthorn (2022)

This one was a very random recommendation given to me by IneptAndy, but one that I'm not opposed to now that I've given it a fair shake. I've always been fond of minimalism, even though I've hardly taken the time out to explore the genre myself. I've only gotten so far as the legendary works of Steve Reich & Philip Glass, but I already adored the sound of the genre from those two alone. This one is only Maxime Denuc on an organ, but a midi-controlled one, which leads to some wildly interesting and abstract soundscapes. I'm not a fan of the drone opener Edo, but aside from that, the rest of the album is a great listen. I can see people getting pseudo trance and techno vibes from the way this was orchestrated towards the end of the album. I highly recommend it if you're a fan of ambient and minimalist music, even if this one was a bit bare bones.

7.5 / 10

Standouts: Infinite end, Ouverture, Function Music

Cocteau Twins – Treasure (1984)

It's a few hours later and I return from my little casual job to tune into some Cocteau Twins to relax! I'm not huge on the band; I used to think that Heaven or Las Vegas was merely okay, but earlier this year, I came right around to loving it, for its gorgeous soundscapes, beautiful vocal performances and… lyrics. Treasure is their second biggest record, but with the detriment of coming out over half a decade prior. Couple that with said decade just so happening to be the 80s and I was worried I wouldn't dig this one all that much, because at the start, the 80s era production weaknesses really hampered what could've been great tracks to me. (I was even reminded of US Golf 95 for a bit, for some cursed reasons.) By the halfway point though, it really began to click with me and by the end, I could see why some people would consider this to be even better than Heaven or Las Vegas. I'm not in that camp, but it was definitely worth the chance.

7.4 / 10

Standouts: Persephone, Pandora (for Cindy), Amelia, Aloysius, Donimo

Chungking Mansions – 安全出口EXIT空间和时间 (2015)

The next record I tuned into was what I always considered to be one of the most underrated vaporwave albums of all time. This Dream Catalogue deep cut was a deceptively muted but spacious & mystical sci-fi experience that had numerous tracks crafted with really subtly curated samples and detailed, crispy atmosphere. It's a really narrow bridge between vaporwave & dreampunk that comes off as gorgeous & futuristic without standing off too much. It could take some repeat listens to be able to pick apart which song in the tracklist does specifically what, but I would wholly welcome future relistens to this album. If you're wondering, this is a potential hidden gem waiting to be understood more widely in the vapor community.

7.7 / 10

Standouts: 互動導遊機器人, 文化马赛克, Gare d'Europa, 同一地點，不同的時間

Dan Deacon – Mystic Familiar (2020)

The final record I chose to go over tonight was Dan Deacon's biggest break, Mystic Familiar. Believe it or not, there was actually a moment in time at the start of 2020 before everything went "oh shit, oh fuck" bad for everybody. Biggest proof of this was Dan's insanely colourful, whimsical, psychedelic and gorgeous crop of electronica and progressive pop! I struggled to listen to so much of 2020 that came after the pandemic, so this was always a lovely one to rely on coming back to, especially with some of the highest soars in music I have heard this decade so far. This always felt like a genuine love letter to nature & life itself and I highly recommend it.

7.8 / 10

Standouts: Become a Mountain, Sat by a Tree, Float Away, Far from Shore, Fell Into the Ocean

So that was my crop of first listens and relistens for today. What do you think of any of these, tell me what you think I should try and maybe give some of these a shot yourself! I'll see ya next time!

[eskification]

so euna (@imbue hiiiiii❣️) tagged me in one of the tag games - 6 albums that you're listening to recently ⛄️

1) steve reich - music for 18 musicians

this is what i've been listening to when i journal! i have tried and failed to be a journal girl many times before but buying a fountain pen and playing classical music makes it feel like more of a moment an event an occasion and now i'm addicted 📖

2) marvin gaye - here my dear

im not trying to be contrarian but this is his best album!!! i will not elaborate the girls that get it get it

3) björk - post

it's not my favourite björk (that's vespertine) but i found it at the used book and CD store recently and it's getting a lot of spins from me 💿 she is seriously mjöther i love all her albums (volta isn't real and it can't hurt me)

4) sister sledge - we are family

theeee best disco album of all time To Me 🪩... also my work has been a nightmare recently (i actually love waitressing but i am truly being Tested. I Am Being Tested) so sometimes i put on lost in music and pretend that i have also quit my job

5) eric dolphy - out to lunch

I listen to this whilst i get ready ^_^ the vibraphonist was seeing god!!!

6) julia holter - aviary

this album was always my beloved but i listened to it on the plane home ✈️ and that setting brought out something new in it that i'm addicted to... it's like a little world in there! i'm realising that on my way back to london i called that a plane home and yet now that i'm back here the flight away was a plane home too. humans are strange words are strange perceptions are strange🏡

I never like tagging people for these because the decisions are too much. i'm tagging YOU 🫵🏼

[confessionsofasuperfan]

Special Comment: Why David Tepper has no business of running an NFL team.

And now, a "Special Comment" about why David Tepper has ruined the Carolina Panthers organization, and why I'm not rooting for them until that piece of trash his gone.

After watching yet another blowout loss at the hands of the Tennessee Titans last Sunday, the Carolina Panthers find themselves sitting at 1-10 on the season, and yesterday, the team fired Frank Reich, who was hired by a certain hedge fund guy who has not business whatsoever of owning an NFL team. That guy I'm talking about is David Tepper.

When he first bought the team from Jerry Richardson in 2018, he promised to bring energy and enthusiasm to a team that hasn't made the playoffs in several years, and in the years that followed, he has not gotten the job done as an owner. This season, the Panthers have absolutely brought pain, heartbreak, and frustration to all of us fans, including myself, who is no longer supporting the Panthers until further notice, and I'll talk about that later on in this "Special Comment".

Today, Tepper had his press conference with the local media explaining the reasons why he decided to fire Reich in the first place, and did I even watch it, HELL TO THE NO. I did not watch it because first of all, he somewhat did not allow one Scott Fowler of the Charlotte Observer, this city's newspaper to ask him a question, and after that dismal press conference came to his conclusion, he took to X/Twitter saying that he was very unhappy with the Panthers for getting frozen out of asking a question at the press conference."

MR. TEPPER, WE ARE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU FOR HAVING NO DAMN BUSINESS OF OWNING A NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE TEAM! YOU PROMISED US BACK IN 2018 THAT YOU WANTED TO EMBRACE A WINNING CULTURE HERE IN CAROLINA, AND WHAT THE HELL DID WE GET FROM THIS MESS, NOT ONE SINGLE GODDAMN WINNING SEASON, DAVID! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A IDIOTIC OWNER THAT CARES ABOUT MONEY INSTEAD OF OWNING A NFL TEAM! YOU ARE DISPICABLE, STUPID, AND MORE IMPORTANLY NOTHING MORE BUT A WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH TRYING TO DESTROY THE TEAM THAT I ONCE PULLED FOR SINCE YEAR ONE IN 1995.

YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE TO DO THIS SPECIAL COMMENT ABOUT WHY YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS OF RUNNING AN NFL TEAM AND WHY I DISPISE YOU SO MUCH, MR. TEPPER, OR AS I SHOULD CALL YOU "GEORGE SHINN 2.0" BECAUSE YOU SOMEWHAT HAVE THIS EVIL PLAN OF TAKING THIS NFL TEAM OUT OF CHARLOTTE AND PUTTING IT SOMEWHERE ELSE? WELL, IF I WAS YOU, MR. TEPPER, YOU SHOULD PUT IT FAR AWAY SO WE WON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOU AND YOUR BRASS BALLS BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS OF OWNING AN NFL TEAM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

THE REASON WHY I'M NO LONGER SUPPORTING THE PANTHERS UNTIL THAT CLOWN TEPPER IS GONE IS THIS: YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY THE DUMBEST OWNER IN ALL OF SPORTS, PERIOD, BECAUSE YOU AND THE IDIOTS AT YOUR LOUSY NO-GOOD HOLDING COMPANY WERE THE ONES THAT BANNED ME FOR ALL REMAINING PANTHER HOME GAMES FOR THIS SEASON FOR THE POSTS I'VE POSTED ON X/TWITTER AND FACEBOOK CALLING YOU "GEORGE SHINN 2.0" BECAUSE YOU ARE DAMN SURE HEADING IN THAT DIRECTION OF MOVING THE TEAM IN THE NEXT 5 YEARS AFTER SPENDING THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS OF HIRING COACHES TO TURN THIS SHIP AROUND, AND WHAT DID THEY GET IN RETURN, PINK SLIP, AFTER PINK SLIP, AFTER GODDAMN PINK SLIP. REMEMBER THE EXPERIMENT WITH THAT JACKASS MATT RHULE, HOW DID THAT TURN OUT, MR. TEPPER? THEN WE FANS WANTED TO KEEP STEVE WILKS AS HEAD COACH AFTER TAKING THE TEAM TO A 6-6 RECORD AS INTERIM COACH LAST SEASON, BUT NOOOO, YOU DUMBASS DECIDED TO HIRE FRANK REICH JUST TO SEE HIM GET THE PINK SLIP. AFTER ALL THAT YOU DID, YOU ARE THE WORST OWNER IN THE NFL ALONG WITH THE JOHNSON BROTHERS IN NEW YORK WITH THE JETS AND THE FORD FAMILY IN DETROIT WITH THE LIONS, MR. TEPPER.

You sir, Mr. Tepper, absolutely ended my fandom of supporting an NFL team that I loved to watch for the first 20-something years of its existence until you came in back in 2018, and in that press conference you gave today, you said that "We're gonna self-reflect and make it better." SELF-REFLECTING ISN'T GOING TO HELP DAMMIT, THE ONLY THING THAT WOULD BE BETTER IS FOR YOU TO SELL THE TEAM TO SOMEBODY WHO CARES ABOUT RUNNING AN NFL TEAM TO WIN FANS BACK, AND UNTIL THAT TIME HAPPENS, I AM DONE WITH YOU AND THE PANTHERS, MR. TEPPER. I AM SO DONE WITH YOU, I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY TO YOU AND THE ORGANIZATION BUT YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY THE WORST TEAM WITH THE WORST FANBASE IN THE NFL. I WAS ONCE A FAN THAT WAS THERE THROUGH SOME OF THE MOST MEMORABLE YEARS AND LOVED GOING TO THE GAMES AT BANK OF AMERICA STADIUM SO MUCH, BUT WHEN YOU ARROGANT BUTT FIRST CAME IN 2018, YOU ENDED THE GOOD TIMES FOR NOT ONLY MYSELF, BUT FOR THOSE WHO DECIDED TO NOT SPEND ONE DAMN DOLLAR ON YOU AND YOUR PRODUCT BECAUSE YOU SIR HAVE NO BUSINESS OF RUNNING AN NFL TEAM. THE ONLY WAY I CAN COME BACK TO SUPPORT THE PANTHERS AGAIN IS THIS: SELL THE FRIGGIN TEAM, YOU FAGGOT.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD LUCK.

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you were built in the image of the winter soldier and with that comes blood on your hands. you do your best to find any sort of repentance in your new life with the avengers - your new life living with, and being in love with, bucky barnes. when your past comes back to haunt your present... well, you're not sure you'll get a future.

word count: 10.7k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, enhanced!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: reader was unwillingly a hydra agent (descriptions of people that reader murdered), death of a brother (not reader's), ptsd, mentions of flashbacks, canon-level violence/gun violence, mentions of therapy slash going to therapy,

note: this took me so long, i truly labored over this because i got an idea and could not stop myself. also, i started over three times to try and get it right lmfao and dear god it became something i did not anticipate (and then i had to go through and edit a major detail bc of how i originally wrote it) (pst jessica i hope you like it)

translations for the russian/german at the end

title credit: fiona apple

part two: here

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

When Hydra realized the resounding success of their Winter Soldier program, they began selling the serum on the black market. Not many bought it because it was well known that, despite Hydra willingly giving the serum after receiving payment, anything or anyone it was injected to would soon belong to them. Nobody wanted to put that much stock into something, or someone, and have it be ripped away for Hydra to claim as their work.

Very rarely did this not matter to someone. Of course, there were times when the rumor mill would start to churn; talk that someone had gotten their hands on the bootleg super-soldier serum and then created a soldier to rival Captain Steve Rogers or the Winter Soldier, but none of them were proven to be true. No Winter Soldier clones ever showed up in the world - well, none that anyone knew of. Still, Hydra and their sympathizers gossiped. Besides violating the Geneva Convention, fantasizing about the Third Reich, and destroying lives… Well, gossiping was all they were really good for.

One day the rumor mill started again but it wasn’t gossip. There were names, dates, places involved that were familiar to some high-ranking agents. There were whispers of a plan throughout the intelligence community that a Hydra sympathizer bought the serum and was just searching for the right target. The perfect body to inject to ensure that it wouldn’t rip itself apart as it rebuilt itself in the image of the Winter Soldier.

That body was, however unfortunately, yours.

That, of course, is a version of you that you can’t remember now. Young, fresh-faced… Six years old.

Just starting school.

Whip-smart, quick on your feet, trusting.

Your parents were like that, too - trusting. When the school nurse told them you’d been having headaches more and more often, having to sleep them off in her room, they believed her. No matter how much you told them that you weren’t in any pain, that you weren't having headaches, that Miss Beckers was lying - God, they didn’t believe you. Why didn’t they believe you? Why would you lie about that?

When Miss Beckers went to the police, telling them that she found bruises and evidence of abuse - well, nobody believed you that she was lying then, either. That part of your life is very blurry to look back on, almost like you’re watching a TV through a muddy puddle. You remember leaving home, the court battles, doctors and doctors and doctors, and then… And then Miss Beckers became your foster mother.

And then you met her friends. And then they put you in that fucking machine. You don’t remember a lot, but you can remember that it burned; that it lit every cell of your body on fire. You can remember that you screamed and begged, promised to be good. You remember passing out, but then waking up and still being on fire. You remember how they would only let you out when you stopped crying.

You were six fucking years old.

Of course, Hydra got word of your new, serum-infused life. They realized several things about you, and the experiment that Miss Beckers ran. One: You hadn’t gone through puberty yet. How would this affect the way the serum worked? Two: They had a perfect opportunity to recreate the Winter Soldier. How many memories can a six-year-old have to wipe, anyway? Three: Miss Beckers was already a sympathizer. How hard would it be to convince her to hand you over?

It was easy to get her on the payroll. Hydra moved you to a facility after they acquired you, decided not to wipe your memories, and raised you in the shadow of the Winter Soldier to one day overcome him - to become him. Eventually, you’d take up the title, but the guards tended to call you Das Wunderkind under their breath until you became the golden example of the Winter Soldier program.

You were fifteen the first time they put you in cryostasis. Falling into unconsciousness wasn’t so bad, didn’t really hurt, but waking up was excruciating. The bone-deep chill, the ache in your lungs, the stiff feeling in your fingers… When you could finally walk without help, they marched you to a room, sat you down, and briefed you on everything that happened they thought was important.

You had been in cryo for ten years.

After that first stint, it was on and off. You were never out of stasis at the same time as the Winter Soldier - one particularly chatty and annoying Hydra agent had told you that they were running your experiments side-by-side considering how late into his life that Winter Soldier had been injected and how early in your life that you had gotten the serum. You didn’t really care, honestly, and had no real urge to meet the man that jump-started the nightmare of your life. You hated him on and off for about fifty years, especially as Hydra worked you to the bone for refusing any of their missions. You didn’t mind because really, as they were testing the boundaries of how strong and fast and smart you could get - you were learning.

Learning about life, learning about how you were stronger than any agent they had escort you, learning how you could run so fast you could almost outrun a car going fifty miles an hour if you put your back into it. You spent the time in between cryosleep sessions working through escape plans in your mind, mapping the facility out, building on your strength, and increasing Hydra’s trust in you.

Instead of refusing to go on missions, you slowly began to accept them.

You killed sixty people before you finally escaped.

Now, though, you’re living comfortably in the New Avengers Facility and doing your best to make up for the life you once lived - the life that you were brutally honest about living. You made no move to hide that your program was the train track running parallel to the Winter Soldier program, that you grew up with your enhanced muscles, mind, thoughts. It was tense, at first, especially when Steve and Bucky resented you for escaping but not trying to break Bucky out.

(“How would I have done it?” You’d argued when the tension finally came to a head, “I barely got out alive. I planned for years. When I was awake, you were in cryo. I couldn’t wake you up because I didn’t know how to do it. I could have killed you.”

“You’re right,” Bucky had admitted then, “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to think about you breaking out, bein’ free, while I was stuck there.”

“I know,” You had replied, setting a gentle hand on his bicep while Steve watched from the sidelines, “I’m sorry. If I could have, I would have taken you with me.” Surprising yourself, you weren’t lying. If you could have, you would have rescued him despite how much you had hated him during that time of your life.)

It wasn’t your plan to become so close to Bucky, and sometimes you both fight, but now you think… You think you love him. You think you’re in love with him. You’re also pretty confident that, besides Steve and maybe Sam, you might be his best friend. You can handle him when he’s having nightmares because you know what he’s seeing, you can redirect him when he gets spacey because you know what he’s reliving, you can sit in silence with him for hours because you know that at the Hydra facility where you were both kept was never, ever quiet and sometimes it’s nice to hear just fuck all. It just makes sense to be his best friend. It makes sense that you’ve fallen in love with him. It all makes sense.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy, but life is never easy. You’ve learned, however, that it’s easier with friends, despite your first complaints that you didn’t want to see anyone in the compound except for missions - let alone talk to them. And now! Now you wake up every morning to go for a run with Steve, Sam, and Bucky. You cook breakfast with Natasha. You look over Tony’s schematics to make sure he’s not going to electrocute himself half to death when he’s working in the middle of the night. You let Bruce run tests on you to compare to Steve’s. The routine is nice. You get comfortable, complacent, downright cuddly.

After several lifetimes of agony and torture, you relish in it. You thrive under the care of your friends - family, really. Being loved is nice, being cared for is nice, not having to watch your every move is nice.

When you find yourself standing in a dirty, New York alley with a gun aimed at your forehead you know that you are going to die. It does not matter to you because the woman holding the gun is familiar. She’s older, an adult now, but you still recognize her. Her name is Galina Zaitsev. When she was four years old, you broke into the cabin her family was hiding in. You shot her brother, her caretaker, in front of her. You left her there with him.

Her hands are shaking now, and you wonder if she’s having a flashback to the night it happened. You look essentially the same even though you killed him almost thirty years ago - save for some signs of aging around the corners of your eyes. She must feel like she’s looking at a ghost - you know that you do, and you were the one that tracked the duo through the mountains, the one that broke their door down, the one who looked at a four-year-old girl screaming and crying and still killed her brother. Your stomach fills with shame and regret, and you almost want her to shoot you. She’ll feel better, if only for a little while.

It’s after she stops feeling better that she’ll begin to spiral, feeling guilt and shame and remorse and fear. You don’t want that for her. You don’t want to be the catalyst for hurt and trauma in her life any more than you already are. You owe her that much.

Galina swallows heavily, looking for the words she wants to say to you. You know she’s probably practiced them, wrote them down, thought about what she’d do when she finally found you. She’s been looking for you her whole life - you know that because she’s not exactly subtle - and must have finally caught one of Tony’s press conferences where you’re standing solemnly in the background, only half listening as he updates the world on the affairs of the Avengers. She’s not the only one scrambling for words she’s practiced, either. Your mind is going a mile a minute, looking for all of the apologies you’ve saved up for the people you’ve hurt. You think about her brother and how, now that you’re on the other side, you realize that he was right. He wasn’t the monster Hydra made him out to be in their files, lies written and compounded to make you willing to take the mission because they knew they couldn’t just order you to kill him like they could have ordered the Winter Soldier - they simply didn’t have that control over you.

Her brother had worked his way into Hydra easily, climbing the ranks rather quickly. He’d joined already having custody of Galina - something about foster homes and better with me than there. It kills you that you never paid enough attention to the files to really understand why her brother was the one taking care of her. When she was three years old, it was found out that her brother was working for the Japanese government, trying to infiltrate and take Hydra down from the inside out. His death was ordered shortly after that. When he caught wind of your orders to kill him and his sister, he’d packed her up and moved them to the Bavarian Alps in hopes that they wouldn’t be found.

Between Hydra having you and the Winter Soldier, that hope was just a pipe dream. If you would have failed, you would have just been put back under so that Hydra could activate the Asset and he’d finish the job. There really was no hope once Hydra set their eyes on Markus Zaitsev.

You’re half reliving what you did to her brother, to her, and maybe Galina can see that. Maybe she can see the pain you’re in, thinking about how you left a four-year-old in that cabin for days as you tried to find a place to call and tell someone that she was there. Maybe she knows that you found her, once, when she was in college here in America and used the money that you’d built up to pay off her student loans anonymously. You wonder if she got a job in her field, and if that helped her pay for the gun she’s aiming at you. You wonder if that would make you feel better or worse about dying when you’re just starting to enjoy living.

Galina speaks before you can find your words. “You killed him,” Her voice shakes even though she’s snarling, a ghost of an accent on her tongue, “You killed my brother and then left me in that fucking cabin to rot with him.”

Your mouth is dry, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. She’s waiting for a reply, waiting for you to say anything, and you struggle to find your voice. “I’m sorry,” You finally say, even though you know it’s going to make her angrier, “I didn’t want to… I was stuck - and they forced me to do it. They would have killed me.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” She grinds her teeth and her finger flexes on the trigger guard, “I know all about you, all about Hydra, all about what you’ve done.” You freeze because she can’t. There’s no way - not possible. When you escaped you’d managed to set fire to the computer system that held your files, making sure that nobody would want to find you. Your chest feels heavy, like you’ve swallowed lead. Like it’s weighed down with what you did in your struggle to escape. Galina seems to pick up on that as her snarl becomes a frantic grin, something terrifying gleaming behind her eyes, “You thought you destroyed everything but you’re wrong. Hydra’s smart enough to make sure to keep backups. Why would they only keep one copy when you’re the most successful serum subject since Steve fucking Rogers?” And then she says your name, your name paired with your real last name, and your blood runs cold. She’s not lying. “I know all about you and what you’ve done. My family isn’t the only one you’ve ruined.”

All you can do is snap your jaw shut and shake your head. “You think, okay, Christ, you think that this will make you feel better but it won’t. Okay? It won’t. I did the revenge thing. I went back and I found the people that took me and hurt me and turned me into this, but it doesn’t help. It only makes you feel better for a little bit. It never lasts.”

She’s not listening to you. She doesn’t understand that you’re begging for her life, and not yours. Maybe it’s something that you should work out with the therapist that Steve set you up with, or even talk to Sam about, but you don’t particularly care whether or not she kills you in the dank and dirty alley you’re standing in. Galina snarls again, speaking a language that you haven’t heard in what feels like decades. “Moy brat byl khoroshim chelovekom, i segodnya ya otomshchu za nego.”

She pulls the trigger and you don’t even try to move out of the way - you’re fast, but not fast enough to dodge a bullet from six feet away. You practically taste the gunpowder as the bullet spirals toward you and the pain that streaks through your system sends you stumbling backward. She’s managed to shoot you in your lower left abdomen, so much fire in your veins and around your spine that you don’t even feel your head crack against the wet concrete as you fall. You gasp for breath, gritting your teeth so that you don’t scream. She says something else, half laughing and half crying, but you can’t hear her past the ringing in your ears. Galina takes a moment to aim the gun at your head, standing over you and haloed in the streetlights. She looks like an angel then, strong and resilient despite everything her life has become since you killed her parents. “Ya pozvolyu tebe stradat’, kak oni.”

You’re still clutching your stomach when you decide to just take the bullet. Your head collapses back and you close your eyes because Jesus fucking Christ, if your repentance for the life you were forced to live is a few short minutes of agony and then a quick death? Maybe there is a God. You release a shuddering breath when your hands slip against each other, losing the pressure on the wound. When your eyes open at the new spike of pain instinctively, Galina is gone.

She didn’t kill you.

In fact, what she’s done has probably made her feel better than if she had killed you. She left you in that alleyway like you left her in the cabin - almost truly an eye for an eye. You groan when you feel your body begin to try and heal, but can’t because there’s a bullet in the way. It keeps shifting, ripping you open before you can begin to seal shut. If you don’t pull it out it’ll just keep happening over and over, a slow sort of torture. You have to get home, have to get to help, before you lose the will to do so. It takes everything in you that wants to not be in pain, which admittedly is more than it would have been if you didn’t live with the man who showed you that healing is possible, to be able to push yourself up to your feet. Lights flash behind your eyes as the pain ratchets up to a nearly unbearable level and honestly, at the slow rate that you’re going you’re surprised that the cops haven’t shown up yet.

Or Peter. Usually, he’s first on the scene despite the protests of the team that he’s a literal child and should probably be studying or hanging out with friends or something. (You’re not really sure what regular teenagers do, having not been one yourself.) It takes you nearly two hours to stumble home, and the whole time your body is fighting between the damage the bullet is causing as it shifts and the instinct to sew itself back together.

When you finally make it back, you’re not sure you can face Bucky even if you try. The shame is still hanging over every movement you make, the regret making it nearly impossible to think about anything else except what you’ve done and how you’re paying for it now.

You do your best to keep blood off of things in the common areas as you make your way to your room, but all bets are off once your door closes behind you. You peel off your shirt to the best of your ability, staggering through your meager hallway, heading for your living room, until you collapse onto one of your console tables. You wince when your decorations clatter off of it and make a ruckus, but the more pressing issue is that you’re covered in blood - you can’t exactly keep yourself stable as your arms slip against the slick wood. You topple over, dropping like a rock and taking the table with you. You lay there, gasping for breath as you continue bleeding and healing, bleeding and healing until you finally figure out that you need help.

On the bright side, you’re not choking on your blood. Makes it easier when you finally get your wits about you to call out to Friday, “Please, wait until Steve is alone and then send him in here.”

Friday chirps and then says, “Do you wish for me to alert Mister Barnes as well?”

“No!” You say loudly, groaning when your stomach pulses and pain shoots through you again, “No, please, just Steve. Only Steve.” You try not to roll around too much because you’re pretty sure that there’s something broken underneath the small of your back but the pain is making it hard to stay still. Your body wants to move away from it, to try and squirm it out of your system. Anything to make the fucking burning stop.

Fifteen seconds after you’ve asked for him, Steve opens your door. He shuts it before he sees you but then maybe he catches sight of the broken glass, or the blood smeared on the inside of the door, or maybe he smells the iron of your wound in the air. He gasps your name, falling to his knees next to you.

“Oh, applesauce!” He presses his hands over your stomach despite your hands pressing against his forearms at the pressure, the pain, “What happened?” You groan low in your throat and shake your head, working past the wave of nausea and dizziness that comes with his firm hands over your wound.

You chuckle weakly once you get yourself together and do what you always do: turn it into a joke. “Met an old friend in an alley, Steve.” You shake your head again to try and stop the black from encroaching on your vision and you watch as his eyebrows furrow, “Can you dig the bullet out of me? Body can’t heal around it.” He gapes at you like you’ve just said something insane. Maybe you have - you’ve been bleeding out for close to two and a half hours which would make anyone struggle with rational thought processing. (If just anyone could survive something like this, that is.)

“I should go get - Bucky would want to know -” He looks between his hands, where blood is beginning to leak around his fingers, and the door. “I can’t just do this without…”

“Sure you can, Rogers,” You grin weakly at him, happy to just leave your hands hanging limply to the side now that he’s pressing against your stomach. You cringe when your voice shakes and also when you feel the pool of blood underneath you. That’s going to be a bitch to clean up. “To be honest, I don’t even care if you use just your fingers. Just do somethin’. Don’t even have to clean ‘em first.” Steve stutters, shaking his head as he tries to come up with something to say. “What?” You goad with a soft and shaky smile, “Never done this to another person before? You nervous, Rogers?”

“I’ve done this to plenty of other people, thank you very much,” He sets his jaw, “It’s just different when you care about the person and you’re not in the middle of a warzone.” You groan low in your throat when Steve finally gives in to your persistent begging for him to do something about the bullet in your stomach and pulls his hands back. He sighs, and then apologizes, “It’ll probably feel better for me to just… Stick my fingers in there, okay? I can’t go slow - think that’ll just make it worse.”

You chuckle, brows furrowing as you lean your head back and close your eyes. “Do whatever you think is best, Captain.” You don’t want to watch as Steve digs the bullet out of you, despite your desire to see him pull it out of your stomach. He has to dig around for a little bit which makes you groan repeatedly, shifting uncomfortably as he fishes it out. When the bullet finally pulls free almost immediately relief surges through your body. If anyone asks, no you do not whimper when Steve settles back on his heels with the bullet pinched between his pointer and thumb. You sigh, shivering as you feel the threads of your body begin to pull back together. Without opening your eyes, you smile up at him. “Knew you could get it done, Stevie.”

“You doubted me?” He wipes your stomach free of blood to see if the wound is closing as it should - you’re both serum’d but you have natural mutations that make you heal faster and better than anyone else. Bruce is sure that the serum beefed those up, too, and you think they must have because you’re the only one in the tower who can get shot in the stomach and only have a scar to show for it nearing three hours later. “I’m offended.”

“Well, I couldn’t do it myself.” When you sit up residual pain licks at your spine, but you push through it because now you have a mess to clean up. “You can wash up in the bathroom so nobody asks any questions. I can clean all of this shit up,” You gesture to the blood on the ground - and your door and your body - and then to the broken knick-knacks and toppled console table. “Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to make you explain to people what just went down.”

“You mean you don’t want to make me explain to Buck what just went down,” He points at you with the bullet, which you snatch from him and put in your pocket. “It’s not like he’d be mad.”

“Sure he would,” You accept Steve’s hand to stand up lest you slip and crack your skull. He sighs at you, lips pressed into his Disappointed Dad Look. “Listen, I get that you’ve known him forever, but your life has run perpendicular to his. Mine’s run parallel.” You wipe your hands off on a part of your pants that isn’t already covered in blood, “If he tried to explain this situation to me, I wouldn’t take it very well. I’d get over it, yeah, but I don’t want to put him through having to deal with it.”

“What, so you’re just goin’ to hide this and swear me to secrecy?” He shifts back to give you some room as you toe off your shoes and try to step outside the puddle of blood so that your socks can be clean as you walk around your room. “Or is this a one-time thing?”

“Hopefully a one-time thing,” You grumble, “I was desperate, okay? I’m sorry, but you were the safest option. Wouldn’t look at me any different after.”

He huffs but looks amused nonetheless. “I’d be offended if I didn’t know it was true - or as true as it can be to your twisted little head.” He grimaces at his hands and arms before taking you up on your offer to wash up in your bathroom. When Steve comes back out you’ve laid several old towels over the bloodstain, hoping to soak up most of it while you put yourself through the shower. Your clothes are a lost cause, and you’ll bag them up to throw away at a later time - when you don’t have to dodge through the compound to avoid your team. Steve shuffles around awkwardly, mostly free of blood as you lay down the fifth towel on top of the already thick pile. “My knees are, uh, dirty.” He’s blushing like he’s embarrassed that he was saving your ass and got his precious khakis bloody.

“You can take a pair of my sweats,” You gesture to your dresser with a shrug, “I’m pretty sure I’ve borrowed a pair from you or Buck and forgot to give ‘em back.” He finds a pair of his sweats that you indeed borrowed - Tony had pushed you into the pool one day as a joke before you moved in and had gotten your own room - and goes back to the bathroom to change. He comes back out and says goodbye to you, asking if you need anything else before he leaves. “No,” You tell him, “I’m okay now. I’m just goin’ to clean up and get somethin’ to eat, I think. I’ll see you in the morning for our run.” He presses a kiss to your temple before slipping out your door and shutting it behind him.

Being alone with your thoughts after almost being killed isn’t the best thing, but you have to get everything cleaned up before Bucky inevitably comes to ask if you want to have dinner with him. It’s not that you don’t trust Bucky, you trust him more than you trust yourself, but you’re in love with the guy. How can you ask him to see you bleeding out because the sister of one of the people you killed came back to exact her revenge? How can you remind him of what you did willingly, what you did without brainwashing, what you did without too much prompting? You can barely stomach the fact that you were you when you did those things, not an Asset or a shell of yourself. All the things he did - well, Bucky didn’t do them. Not really. Not of his own accord.

Not like you.

Sometimes when you’re going down the roads that lead to flashbacks and dissociation, Bucky is there to remind you that the only reason you did those things was to escape, to get out of there with your life and some ability to perhaps go and live normally somewhere. But Bucky isn’t here with you now, standing in the shower and washing the blood off of your body. He isn’t here to remind you that you deserve love like you think that he deserves love. You shudder thinking about how much you wish that Bucky would hold you, press his lips against your skin, maybe even make love to you - but also that you won’t be the one to make that move. You couldn’t bear it if he didn’t dream about the same things, if he didn’t love you the same way you love him.

It takes you just over two hours to clean up your room to where the bloodstain isn’t the first thing you notice upon entering. You take a second to sit down on your couch and order a rug from under your newly empty console table so that you don’t have to look at the barely-there stain for the rest of your time living at the compound. It was hard to get your blood off of the door and it’s still kind of ruddy, but if someone’s in your room your door is open - another lovely habit from your time as an unwilling Hydra agent. That’s that problem solved.

Your rug is going to be at your door by the end of the week and it’s once you’re scrolling your email for confirmation that you notice what time it is. It’s nearly ten at night and you were honestly expecting Bucky to come knocking at nine, if not earlier. You frown and set your phone down, reaching for a hoodie to pull on over your t-shirt and hopefully hide the way that you’re curling in on yourself with the residual pain from the gunshot. Once you’re ready, you head out to find Bucky or something to eat - hopefully both.

You circle the living quarters four times before Nat stops you, waving you into the common room as you try to dart by without being seen. She narrows her eyes at you and then shakes her head. “He went to bed about an hour ago.”

“Who?” You tilt your head, trying to play dumb. You know that she’s talking about Bucky, and she knows that you know. “Nat, please.” I don’t have the energy for this you want to say. I just want to be with Bucky and glean some comfort from him before I explode.

You don’t say either of those things.

“I don’t know what you’re saying please for,” She shrugs, folding her legs underneath herself as she picks her book back up, “I was just letting you know that Bucky went to sleep an hour ago. Said he already ate and told me to tell you as much.”

“Oh.” You shrug, “Okay, I’ll just make something quick and head to bed myself then.” You turn to leave before Nat can see that you’re kind of hurt that he ditched your unofficial-except-everyone-knows-about-it tradition. You pause at the door when Nat calls your name in a soft voice, and you try not to think about how you called for Steve to dig the bullet out of your stomach instead of Bucky - as if that was some sort of betrayal. As if Bucky would be mad at you for that. You hesitate before turning around, because all you want to do, really, is watch another movie that you and Bucky missed during your respective times in cryo and fall asleep on his shoulder, and instead you’re going to go to bed hungry and alone and in pain.

“I ordered your regular from that Chinese takeout place you like,” She says softly, “I knew when Barnes said that he was headin’ to bed and asked me to tell you that he already ate that you hadn’t eaten with him. Strange, but it is not my place to judge. Is everything okay?”

You duck your head, smiling softly and hoping that it’s convincing, “You’re a life-saver. Everything’s fine… Just some oslozhneniya, you know? It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about, Nat.” She smiles at you, entirely unconvinced, but allows you to go to the kitchen and gather your dinner without incident. You hurry back to your room, uneasy as you turn every corner because your day has been a wreck. The only reason you were in that alley is that it’s the anniversary of your first willing mission and that always fucks you up - and for Galina to find you? To exact her revenge? For you to stare at the barrel of her gun and wonder if you were going to die on the day that your escape finally began to come to fruition so many years ago?

As you eat you try to shake the day off. It does you no good to sit and stew on your past or to let yourself fall into flashbacks of what used to be. After you’re done eating you take a few moments to take deep, centering breaths and then you decide that you’re over today.

It is time for bed.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Waking up in the morning is not fun. In fact, it is negative fun. Whatever the opposite of fun is - that’s what it’s like for you to wake up in the morning. Sam is knocking on your door, calling your name, and your entire torso aches. You groan and call out, telling Sam that he needs to hold his fucking horses, and then you push yourself out of bed. You’re starving - mostly because the serum gives you an insane metabolism but partially because whatever healing mutation you’re dealing with uses your body's natural fat reserves and now your system is sending you every signal that you need to eat heavy for the next few days to get that back.

Sam looks surprised when you yank the door open, already scowling. “Damn, should’a let you roll over to the other side of your bed to get up. Left side real comfortable last night?” He shoulders past you into your living quarters and surveys the area like he’s looking for something - like he already knows what you went through. You grind your teeth together when his eyes zero in on the barely-there bloodstain on your floor. “Huh, that’s new.”

“Leave it, Sam.” You hunch your shoulders, “It’s far too early in the day for me to beat your ass over something ridiculous.” He laughs then, running the toe of his shoe over where the blood was the thickest and the wood is still stained - a small area compared to the mess it had been when you were first cleaning it. “What do you want? Normally Buck or Steve comes to get me when I oversleep.”

“Nah, no run today,” He shrugs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning his body to face you, “Guess we have a very pressing mission. Hydra related. Cap and Co sent me to come to get you since Friday couldn’t get you up.”

“In my defense!” You waggle a finger at him, “Last night was rough and I ate a bunch of takeout before I went to bed. Between that and my meds, you know that it’s hard for me to wake up.” He makes a face at the mention of the sleeping medication that you only take if you’re having trouble falling asleep. He’d worked with Tony and Bruce to cook up something that would fight through the serum to help you find some semblance of peace at night - offered it to Steve and Bucky too, but you’re not sure if they took him up on that. Despite how close you are with the boys, they were both still born and raised in a time that kept quiet about those sorts of things no matter how much times have supposedly changed now.

“Fair,” Sam concedes, eyes drifting back to the stain on the floor, “This have anything to do with it?” He gestures loosely with his foot as if pointing at it will make the blood puddle back up from underneath the floorboards.

“Get out of my room, Sam,” You say instead of answering him, jerking your head toward the doorway, “I’ll get dressed and be down to the conference room as soon as possible.” He breezes past you but pauses at your doorway. He’s gazing out into the hallway, and you’re facing the opposite direction, but it still feels like he’s peering into your soul. He’s not even looking at you, for Christ’s sake, but you feel like he’s peeled you open to talk directly to your being.

“I know I’m not as close to you as Steve or Bucky,” Sam says, voice uncharacteristically soft, “But you can still talk to me about this sort of thing. I may not understand as much as they do, but I still do understand the after-effects. How hard it is. I care about you, y’know?”

“Hey, sure I know,” You bump your elbow against his but still don’t look at him, “I know you do. S’just hard to get past all my shit and then let other people into it all. There’s a lot of it up here.” You tap your temple with one finger and hope that your face looks somewhat like you’re joking just in case he looks over at you.

“Amen to that,” He says, voice back to normal and jovial Sam that you know and love, “Might as well just get your tac-suit on, I think Cap is itchin’ to head out and take care’a this. Apparently, it’s real bad.” He shuts your door behind him, your eyes falling to the stain that you couldn’t get rid of last night. You sigh and turn to get ready for the meeting, packing a go-bag just in case things get messy. It’s never fun to be stuck on the jet without a change of clothes and, honestly, you’ve had enough of soaking in your own blood to last a lifetime.

The conference room is tense when you get there, Bucky and Steve on opposite sides of the room and brooding - Sam, Clint, and Tony are sitting in the middle of the long table chatting about the various files and manila folders in front of them. The whole room goes silent when you walk in, tac-suit on and go-bag thrown over your shoulder.

“Damn,” You say, “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.” The only reaction you get is Sam snorting behind his hand and Bucky turning to brood out the window instead of at Steve across the room. You shake your head, used to the tiny spats the friends get in. They’ll be better soon because there’s nothing that they’ve faced that they can’t overcome. You know this and that’s partially why you ignore their little piss party in favor of dropping into a chair across from Sam, kicking your bag underneath the table, and settling back casually in your seat. “What’s so urgent we’re skipping the morning run?”

“Old Hydra base we’ve been monitoring seems to be active again,” Clint slides you some files across the lacquered table and you catch them under your palm, “They’re back on the power grid under an old alias that we’ve been tracking and our recon shows shipments goin’ in and out. We don’t know what they’re movin’ but it can’t be good.” You hum, flipping through the ridiculous amount of mission reports from the agents sent on recon and the pictures that they managed to snag. “Hopefully it’s just a small separatist group from the local government, but either way we need to shut it down yesterday.”

“Yeah,” You agree, only half listening. You flip one of the mission reports over, eyes skipping over hostile wild-life and signs of Hydra activity to favor looking at the photos they’ve submitted. Your heart drops out of your ass when you flip to another file, slowly opening the manilla folder to see what’s paper clipped to the inside. It’s a picture, digitally enhanced, and it’s the entrance that you once watched disappear over your shoulder as you took off into the woods. It’s so hauntingly familiar that it makes your skin go cold and your blood rush in your ears. You stand from your seat, the room spinning and changing around you. You don’t even hear when Sam says your name because you’re back in the hallways that are locked behind that large, imposing door, bright and white and too sterile yet so militant. You can almost hear your footsteps slapping on the tile and the stinging of your bare feet, your breath ripping from your chest, the shouts of the guards as they chase you down like a fucking dog.

When Sam comes around the table you don’t take notice, too lost in your past. He sets a gentle hand on your arm, except to you he’s a guard and you’re turning a corner and he’s grabbing your wrist, trying to keep you there, to sedate you, to get you back because they can’t lose Das Wunderkind, can’t let you go, can’t let the experiment end… Without really thinking about what you’re doing, you’ve grabbed Sam’s wrist and twisted it behind his back with one hand, pressing him down into the table by the nape of his neck with the other. You press a snarl into his cheek, shaking as he goes limp in your hold as some sort of appeasement or - well, maybe just as a defense mechanism. “Berühre mich noch einmal und du wirst sterben. Verstehst du? Verstehst du?!” Your voice shakes, almost a growl with how roughly you’re speaking. Another guard wrestles you away, locking his arms around your biceps and chest and heaving you backward until their back hits the other side of the hallway.

They’re saying your name - that’s what makes you pause, gasping for breath. It’s never your name - always, always Das Wunderkind or Chudo-ditya. Never your name, never your name. You feel the grip of the arms around your chest, but they’re wrong. Too strong, too familiar - one arm is cold and the other is the same temperature as your skin which is doubly strange because the serum makes you run nearly ten degrees hotter than regular humans. If anyone was running as hot as you, they’re either like you or dying.

You blink once, twice, a third time and the haze over your eyes recedes. You can finally see Sam leaning against the table in front of you, rubbing his wrist and half blocked by Steve, who has his hands up like you’re a caged animal. Like you’re dangerous, ready to strike at any time.

You suppose you are.

Bucky is saying your name - your real name - into your ear with a shaking voice. “You’re safe here,” He says into the side of your head with a shaking voice, “Zdes' ty v bezopasnosti. Sie sind hier sicher.” He repeats. The shame is the first thing you feel after the post-flashback numbness rolls in. You’ve hurt a friend, and now the whole room is looking at you like you’re about to explode. The only real option you have is to sag backward into Bucky, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Zdes' ty v bezopasnosti.” He says again, “Sie sind hier sicher. You’re safe here.”

“Yeah,” You finally reply, voice hoarse. You clear your throat, “I, uh, just wasn’t expecting that.” Steve still looks wary of you when Bucky finally lets you go, keeping his hands heavy on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t… I didn’t know it was you.” if it weren’t so silent in the room, you’re sure that nobody would have even heard you speak. Your hands are still shaking and you can’t help yourself - there are only two escape routes: the windows on the other side of the room and the door to your right. Steve, Sam, Clint, and Tony are in the way of the windows, but Bucky is behind you, hands still anchoring you to this world. Your only way to get out would be to break free from his grip, but you feel so weak that you don’t think it’s possible. You need to either get away from everyone, put some space between you and other bodies, or leave entirely. Surely they can all see the way you’re jonesing to move, to leave, to disappear. The way your chest heaves as you try to keep yourself standing in front of them. The way you clench and unclench your fists.

“It’s okay,” Sam says, finally stepping around Steve. You flinch back into Bucky’s arms when he approaches, hands up.

“Don’t,” You warn, clenching your hands, “Don’t, I’ll-”

“You won’t,” He says, grabbing your hands with his, “Okay? I trust you. Listen to me: I trust you.” Sam pulls you into a hug, and Bucky moves around to flank the both of you with Steve. That irritates your instincts, too, to have such strong opponents on your flank while your arms are tucked around Sam’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper into his shoulder, “I didn’t know that I’d - I never thought I’d see that place again. And then you grabbed me and, I don’t know -'' If you don’t stop talking, you’re absolutely going to cry so you snap your jaw shut. Crying is the last thing you need, especially when you’d gotten shot last night and hadn’t shed a single God damn tear. (You think that maybe you should talk to your therapist about your unwillingness to show vulnerability or negative emotions, but that’s a hard subject to bring up when you’re not even sure if you want to bring it up. Maybe you’ll bring it up to work on getting to it during your sessions with them.)

Tony, surprisingly, is the first to question what you’ve said. “Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean? You’ve seen this base before?”

You pull away from Sam and he only lets go when he’s sure you can stand on stable feet. “What do you mean?” Your voice shakes, and you step back to press against the wall again. It feels better, safer, especially with your two closest friends flanking you like they’re afraid you’ll hurt someone again. You cross your arms over your chest. “Of course I’ve seen it before. You don’t recognize it?” You look at Bucky, unsurprised when he can’t keep your gaze. If you were him and just watched yourself nearly break Sam’s back, you might be afraid, too.

“No,” He pulls the file toward him with one finger, gazing at the photo for a second, “I’ve never seen this place before. It’s familiar, but all Hydra bases essentially look the same. I’m sure I saw something like it in my time awake.”

“You’ve seen it, I know that you have.” You whisper. It sounds like a nuclear bomb going off in the conference room despite how soft your voice is. “You haven’t seen it from the outside - not this one, I don’t think. That’s where, it’s, uh…” Your eyes trail away from everyone, focusing on a cobweb in the left corner of the room where the ceiling meets the walls. Gesturing blindly, you try to sound like you don’t care. “That’s the base where I grew up.”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath and Sam takes another step forward. You flinch away from him and shuffle along the wall a few inches, feeling a little too cornered for comfort. “You can’t go on this mission,” Bucky cuts the silence after a few minutes of everyone looking at you and you pointedly avoiding looking at them. He sounds more curt than normal, but given the circumstances… You suppose that’s to be expected. “Not if you can’t control yourself after just seeing a picture of the place.”

“Buck…” Steve sighs, saying more than he’s verbalizing. His hands are on his hips again, shaking his head. Nobody else says anything and it makes your stomach churn. How quickly you’ve broken the trust you’ve worked so hard to build up - how many seconds did it take to shatter what took years to build? You think you’re going to vomit.

“What?” You finally ask, swallowing heavily, “And you can go?”

“Yes.” Bucky shrugs.

“Hardly fair,” You grit your teeth, “We were both kept there.” You point a shaking finger at the file, “We both know that I wouldn’t have reacted that way had I known what I was opening the file to. If I had time to prepare.” You’re deflecting, picking a fight to avoid how hurt you are that he doesn’t trust you anymore.

“Do we?” He narrows his eyes at you, chest puffing out as he postures unconsciously, “There’s a lot that we don’t know about you.”

“Hey, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Your jaw ticks when Tony holds up a hand and Clint stands with him as if you’re about to physically fight Bucky - or he’s about to physically fight you. You’re hurt at whatever implications that his statement holds, but you have too many things to think about at once to make a coherent thought about anything other than whatever emotion is at the forefront of your mind. “Give me two hours to get myself together and I’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Bucky narrows his eyes as his mouth twists angrily, “Sure.”

“Okay, enough,” Steve cuts in before anyone else can say anything else, “You two can work out whatever is happenin’ between you after this mission.” He shoots Bucky a dark look, like he knows exactly what crawled up his friend’s ass and died. If only he’d enlighten the fucking class. Then he points your way and you wilt, some of the anger dying and returning to the shame you were feeling before, “And you. If we get there you cannot handle it you will go back to the jet. Do you understand me?” It’s hard to say no to Steve when he’s using the Captain voice - you’ll never tell him but it’s dangerously close to the voice the Hydra agents would use on you if you were misbehaving.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sam interrupts before you can agree despite being a little miffed at being treated like a child by your closest friends, “I, personally, don’t think either of you should go.”

And then, before you can argue with Sam, Bucky interrupts with a snarl at Steve. “Oh, of course, that’s the side you’d take.” He ignores Sam’s pointed comment.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve shoots back.

Tony and Clint look back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match before the latter claps his hands, holding them up to catch attention after the sound echoes, “As much as I love this multi-faceted argument, my hearing aids cannot fucking handle several people yelling at the same time.” He points at you and, honestly, you’re getting real tired of people fucking pointing at you. “Do you agree with Steve? That if you get too overwhelmed you’ll go back to the jet?”

“Yes.” You nod curtly, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. You’ll say anything to end this conversation.

“Good,” Clint claps again, “Then it’s settled. We are all adults here, some more than others,” He looks at you, Steve, and Bucky - the only people in the room with several decades on everyone else, “So we should act like it, yeah? I’m sure it was jarring to see that with no warning, but you know your limits more than any of these other chuckle-fucks.” You nod once and then look away. Clint has a way of Looking At You, like he’s reading a book rather than just having a conversation. You suppose it’s from a lifetime of being around people who don’t speak his first language, one that relies on facial expressions and body language rather than intonation and volume. “So we’ll finish the brief, get on the jet, and go from there.”

“Wise words, Legolas,” Tony chirps to fill the awkward silence, “Should change your name from Hawkeye to Barn-Owl.”

It takes almost an hour to calm your rabbiting heart after the brief is over. You sit as far away from everyone on the jet, headphones in and the music cranked as loud as you can physically stand. Your leg is bouncing and you can fucking feel Bucky glaring at you when he’s not glaring at Steve - sitting as far from you both as he can sit. You don’t know what you’ve done to him, or what Steve has done to him, but Brooding Bucky Who Doesn’t Communicate What He’s Feeling makes you grind your teeth. It’s something that you cannot make yourself deal with while you’re trying to psych yourself up for willingly going back to the place that haunts your every fucking waking moment - and sometimes your precious sleeping moments, too.

You close your eyes and shake your head, dropping it between your knees. It’s going to be okay. It hasn’t been active since the Winter Soldier was moved from Chekalin, Russia to Arnis, Germany. There shouldn’t be too many people there, let alone enough to take you back in. You’re free. You’re not Das Wunderkind. Not Chudo-ditya. Not their plaything, their toy, their experiment. You’re you, you’re free, you’re a fucking superhero who does good things and also sometimes gets shot in alleyways by people with lives ruined at your hand and then you hide it from the man you’re in love with because you don’t want him to remember everything that you’ve done because then he won’t ever be able to love you.

After a deep breath and some less destructive self-talk, you feel only slightly better. Your hands still shake as the jet lands, you still hold your weapon a little too tightly, and your responses are a little too clipped when you affirm the orders you’re given.

Steve takes the right of the compound with Bucky and Tony while he sends you on point to the left with Clint and Sam. It’s a tactical advantage to have you there and in charge of half of the team - you’d said as much on the jet between ignoring Bucky’s angry eyes and your rising anxiety - because you still have the damn place memorized, no matter how much you’d like to forget it. You know everything about this God-forsaken place.

You know that you have to whisper into your comms for Sam and Clint to watch their step because you’re sure that Hydra hasn’t cleared the bear traps that left a nasty scar around your left ankle on the day of your escape. You know that you have to duck behind an old and gnarled tree that hadn’t really been that old, had it? when you left, otherwise the motion sensors would trigger a floodlight and then the release for the damn dogs. You know that you can’t handle seeing the scorch marks on the side of the building from where they shot actual fucking bombs at you, but you also can’t answer Sam’s question as to what the hell were they trying to do, blow up their own place?

Because of course, he recognizes the fire pattern of grenades. Of course, he knows what they look like. Not only is Sam incredibly smart, but he’s served in the military. Probably seen those same marks on the side of civilian homes, made by American soldiers.

You bite back your answer because saying no, they were just really trying to kill me on my way out but that was before the bear trap so I was quicker on my feet isn’t going to do a Goddamn thing for this mission.

That and, well, Steve’s team can hear your conversations on their comms, too. You don't need to expose that part of yourself to them while you're active on a mission - it'll just give Bucky more justification for wanting to pull you off when he doesn't believe in your skills or ability to compartmentalize. Just because you hadn’t had your mind wiped over and over doesn’t mean that you can’t put away your trauma and life experiences to get shit done and then have your breakdown in the privacy and safety of your room.

You flinch when that thought crosses your mind because it’s kind of a fucked up thought, but still. You can’t deal with that right now, as you’re approaching the side door and listening to Steve as he approaches the mirror on the other side. You hear the rattle and Tony curses. “There’s a number pad,” His voice crackles through the comms, “Either of you got any ideas for a code?”

“I’m sure they’ve changed it,” Sam says, side to side with Clint while they keep a lookout. You chew on your words, wondering if they had changed it or if… If the codes were the same as the ones you got your hands on so long ago. “What kind of secret organization keeps their side-door codes the same for decades?”

“The kind that’s obsessed with getting their igrushka back,” Bucky mutters. You’re not sure he intended for the entire team to hear it, but you don’t say anything. You sigh and shake your head. “What? You think you know the code?”

“Codes. Different for each door. And I knew them, I’m not sure if they’re the same.” Your hand reaches for the door and you know you should be moving faster, know that you should just get it over with, but you’re struggling. It’s hard because you know the moment the doors open the mission is on, on, on. The moment you break this seal everything has to be fast and hard because Hydra doesn’t play. The moment they realize that Bucky is back on-premises, that you’re back, they will use every trick in the book to get you.

“We’ll try them,” Steve says decisively, “What are they?”

Sam backs up until his back is pressed to yours and you know that he’s just trying to give you a way to ground yourself. Clint glances over his shoulder as you shudder, forcing yourself to speak. “Oh three, one zero, one nine one seven.” The silence is loud over the comms as everyone processes the numbers - the date.

“That’s my birthday.” Bucky finally breaks the silence, voice cracking as he struggles to breathe, “That’s my fucking birthday.”

“It didn’t work,” Tony cuts in before Bucky can panic anymore, “Got any other bright ideas?” You lick your lips, wishing that you’d taken the right side of the building. You don’t want to - never wanted to - you can’t ruin his fucking birthday for him when he’s just gotten around to celebrating it again. Despite your promise to Steve and Clint, when you start crying you do not tap out and go back to the jet. Barely three seconds have passed since Tony asked you for the new date and you can’t afford for the silence to stretch any longer. You clear your throat and bring your gun up to your shoulder, one hand hovering over the keypad.

“Oh three, one zero, one nine five six.” You hear the affirmative beep of the door opening over the comms and quickly jam Bucky’s birthday into the number-pad in front of you, breaching with your gun drawn and ignoring Steve’s soft voice asking what does your thirty-ninth birthday have to do with anything, Buck? If they ask after the mission, you’ll lie. You’ll lie your ass off because how are you supposed to tell them that on Bucky’s thirty-ninth birthday you were six years old and being pulled out of that fucking machine, forever changed and damned and ruined? It’s been several lifetimes since that day and you just want to forget it.

You don’t want anyone else to have to remember it, either.

You’re on point, Sam to your left and Clint on your right, and you clear the hallway as you move in tandem. It’s empty - terrifyingly so. Hydra bases are never so devoid of activity, especially when a door opens somewhere that a door should not be opening. Especially when two doors open within two seconds of each other and neither door is slated to be opened.

The hallway is just like you remember it: long, white, and sterile. Your steps are softly echoing and you can hear everyone breathing through the comms. It’s almost comforting, really, because the last time you were in this hallway you were only hearing your panicked breathing, reminding you that you were alone. Now you’re not alone - and neither is your team.

At the end of the hallway, where the layout forces you to either turn left or right, a man slides into view. Your team is only halfway down the hall and immediately have your guns trained on this newcomer, but he doesn’t even flinch. You’re the first one to fire, aiming for the seams of the man’s kevlar suit, but it doesn’t take him down. Before Sam or Clint can react to the shots from your gun or the other team’s terrified shouts down the comms, the man at the end of the hallway pulls the pin on a painfully familiar-looking grenade.

You react before you can think, calling it out and then body-checking Clint into the nearest doorway. Sam shouts your name, raising his gun and firing at the fleeing man, but it doesn’t do anything. You’ve already dropped your weapon in favor of barrelling down the hallway toward the grenade. Someone in your comms is saying your name, too, but it’s all blurring together into your past, your present, and whatever future you might have had. It feels like it takes you years to reach where the grenade is rolling to a stop, but it might be less than a second. When you started running you didn’t have a full plan in mind - you’ve heard the story of Steve all skinny and pre-serum leaping onto a dud, you’ve heard Sam’s horror stories of people he’s known doing the same on live grenades - but that won’t work with this one. Not with the way it’ll start releasing a combustible gas, the spark that comes with the explosion sending the whole hallway up in a fireball that will surely kill Clint and Sam.

Instead of leaping on the grenade, you plant your left foot and then send it sailing with your right like some sort of world-class soccer player. In the moments that it sails through the air toward the end of the hall, everything clears. You’re still on the follow-through of your kick but now you can hear Sam screaming your name as Clint hauls him kicking and screaming into a room off of the main hallway. Steve is asking for a status update on your comms, demanding that someone tells him what’s happening, and then Bucky says your name. He doesn’t scream, doesn’t beg, just says your name reverently, like he’s praying.

Half a second later, the grenade hits the wall and fucking explodes.

Translations:

Russian:

Moy brat byl khoroshim chelovekom, i segodnya ya otomschchu za nego. // My brother was a good man, and today I will avenge him.

Ya pozvolyu tebe stradat’, kak oni. // I will let you suffer as they did.

Oslozhneniya // Complications

Chudo-ditya // Wonder Child

Zdes' ty v bezopasnosti. // You’re safe here.

Igruskha // Plaything or toy

German:

Das Wunderkind // The Wonder Child

Berühre mich noch einmal und du wirst sterben. // Touch me one more time and you will die.

Verstehst du? // Do you understand?

Sie sind hier sicher. // You’re safe here.

[mikrokosmos]

Hi! Are there any good books or texts you would recommend to someone who want to deepen their musical analysis abilities?

(I love your blog and the descriptions accompanying the pieces! I find them incredibly interesting and of great help to get a better understanding of what lies behind a composition. They add plenty to the listening experience so... Thank you for sharing your knowledge on here! 🙂)

Thanks for reading my posts! :D I was thinking about how I miss updating this blog more often...work has been taking up most of my energy.

A lot of my musical reading was either library books, or more often reading up about music online or watching video essays/lectures/listening to podcasts. I have a stack of books in my personal library, here are my favorites that helped me understand more about music:

Alex Ross - The Rest is Noise. This is a popular choice, Ross is a music critic for The New Yorker, and this book is a set of essays covering music through the 20th century. He focuses on the political, cultural, and technological events that inspired composers. It's a broad overview of styles. I remember reading it in college when it introduced me to Steve Reich

Alex Ross - Listen to This. Also has essays on popular music, but here are the classical topics he covers: The descending bass-line, chaconnes, and 'lameno' style voice writing. Mozart's Don Giovanni. Schubert. John Luther Adams. Verdi and Opera in our culture. John Cage. Late Brahms.

Prentice Hall History of Music Series - Various. I bought these at a library sale; Baroque Music (Claude V. Palisca), Music in the Classic Period (Reinhard G. Pauly), Nineteenth-Century Romanticism in Music (Rey M. Longyear), and Twentieth-Century Music: An Introduction (Eric Salzman). Downside is that this set is older, so the 20th century book only covers up to early 1960s. But each volume is pretty short so it is a helpful overview

Manyard Solomon - Mozart, A Life. I'm still reading this because it's very long, but it is an extensive biography on Mozart that also helps to explain the cultural, political, and philosophic world that Mozart was living in. It also has a great defense against the claim that Mozart put no effort into his music.

Charles Rosen - The Classical Style. Talked about music of the late 18th century, most emphasis going on Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. It can be dense and academic at times, but helped me learn more about aesthetics

Charles Rosen - The Romantic Generation. Even longer and more academic than the Classical Style, this book focuses on the major Romantic composers of the 1830s; Chopin, Liszt, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Romantic Opera. Probably my favorite book because of how much history is in it. Talks about a new view of history that developed after new theories in geology changed our perspective on time, which in turn changed how the Romantics thought of musical time. It talked about these composers styles, how they used the sounds of instruments as being what drives the music, how Bach influenced them all growing up, how Romantic Opera is simultaneously the greatest art genre and kitschy garbage, how post-Enlightenment religion was hyper-personalized to the point of making art that tries to create a spiritual atmosphere without being 'religious', and Schumann's illusions of musical eternity

Paul Roberts - Images, The Piano Music of Claude Debussy - Another favorite, talks about the cultural world of turn of the century Paris, and all the musical and artistic influences that went into Debussy's piano works; Impressionism, Symbolism, Japanese visual art, Baudelaire's poetry, Watteau's paintings, Javanese gamelan music, and others

Haruki Murakami - Absolutely on Music, Conversations with Seiji Ozawa. A lot of great insight from both Murakami and Ozawa, they talk about composers, artists, specific performances (like Glenn Gould's radically slow tempo for Brahms' concerto), some industry talk, and attitudes on being Japanese while performing Western art.

Richard Taruskin - Music in the Late 20th Century - I've been warned that this author has a negative bias toward some of the composers and styles he talks about, but it helped me understand Webern inspired Serialism a lot better.

Tim Rutherford-Johnson - Music After the Fall. Currently reading this one, it's also academic and somewhat dense at times, but it's about contemporary music since 1989 (published in 2017) which I'll admit I don't know a lot about contemporary classical music. Trying to rectify that. So far I'm very fascinated by the way the recording industry, and the shift toward music listening as a personal and mobile activity, as changed how we think of music in a way so so so different from pre-industrial humans.

Nicolas Slominsky - Lexicon of Musical Invective, Critical Assaults on Composers since Beethoven's Time. Ending with a fun book, it is a collection of negative press from music-criticism history. The edition I have has an intro from Peter Schickele (PDQ Bach) which is an enlightening essay on how we react to new art. I think it's interesting to see the minority opinion of a lot of the greats. And sometimes it is funny to see how other cultures perceived music that we love today. Here is a quote with the composer's name cut out:

"In search of ear-rending dissonances, torturous transitions, sharp modulations, repugnant contortions of melody and rhythm, [X] is altogether indefatigable. All that one can chance upon, is here brought forward to produce the effect of bizarre originality, especially the strangest tonalities, the most unnatural chord positions, the most preposterous combinations in regard to fingering..."

This is a criticism of Chopin by the way. "Bizarre", "strange" tonality, "unnatural" chord positions...

[burlveneer-music]

Rachael Dadd - Kaleidoscope - inventive modern folk rock from Bristol (Memphis Industries)

On 14 October 2022 wildly creative free-form songwriter Rachael Dadd is to release her brand new studio album ‘Kaleidoscope’. The record is her second album for Memphis Industries and follows 2019’s 'Flux', which was released to much acclaim and which she was touring when the pandemic struck.

Like so many people disconnected from their communities and struggling through the lockdowns, Rachael Dadd turned inwards, seeking escape through music and connection through songwriting, and her hope is that when people listen to ‘Kaleidoscope' “they will feel held and find space to breathe, grieve and celebrate.”

“This album is a lot more honest and personal than ‘Flux'” she shares, “but I feel the songs are universal as they are largely rooted in truth and love. If I had to pick a favourite album it would be this one because of the magical rekindling of human connection when me and my band got back in a room together again. All that magic went into these songs." "Music for me usually comes from a place where I’m in a state of flow and free-child: playful and explorative and sparked by the infinite possibilities that creating it can bring,” she continues, “so kaleidoscope, a toy with infinite possibilities of shape, colour and pattern, seemed like a really good title."

Following on from taking part in the Super Cool Drawing Machine touring art exhibition which raised money for small venues during lockdown, Rachael developed the album artwork by embroidering on her sewing machine. She created colourful geometric organisms, possibly depicting the patterns of a kaleidoscope, or musical sounds spread across a huge blue sky.

"The image of the sky appears many times on the album, representing boundless freedom from the mundanity and struggles of being human", says Rachael. "Music, too, provides escapism and freedom, and I like that while both music and the sky can be boundless, they are also containers to preserve all the very best things. Here on ‘Kaleidoscope’ they are vessels for truth and love."

Having been kissed on the cheek and told to pursue music at the age of 14 by Tori Amos, who along with Kate Bush and Joni Mitchell lit up a new universe of possibility and magic for her, showing Rachael a way to translate her own inner world into words and music, she went on to discover John Cage, Steve Reich and John Tavner. Creating avant-garde feedback loop experiments at Alton College also left a big impression on her, as did WARP artists such as Aphex Twin, Boards of Canada, Plaid and Broadcast, and more recently Elsa Hewitt. "I love synth worlds and it's been really great to explore this more deeply on ‘Kaleidoscope'”, says Rachael, who also draws inspiration for the new record from Bristol’s contemporary jazz scene and artists like Ishmael Ensemble and Waldo's Gift.

[the-bafflement-of-scotland-yard]

coricopat

Ooooh Coricopat! I haven't really given him much thought before, this is gonna be fun

Otp: Coricojerrie has some fun potential, one smart but also kinda dumb and one fully dumb but also kinda smart, what could go wrong?

Brotp: Coricomile. They do everything together. Like a lot of people here I see them as twins, but it's not just that, they're also best friends. Tantomile definitely holds the brain cells though.

Song piece that reminds me of them: I immediately thought of Der Zauberer by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and I don't really know why lol. But maybe something more recent could fit him too, perhaps some Steve Reich? I can kinda see him with minimal music.

Fave actor/actress: shit, I have no idea! I've loved everyone I've seen play him so far, so I'll just go with that.

Random Headcanon: I see him as a young adult, around the age of Tugger perhaps. That would make him slightly older than Jerrie, but Jerrie, who unabashedly lets his childlike side roam free, can take Coricopat along in being stupid. He once suggested trying to make Teazer and Tantomile besties (or even getting them together). It was a disaster.

Rate from 1-100: 70/100? I don't know, I like him, I've just never really thought about him much.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Captain America and The Winter Soldier

Last episode on deck! Let’s get into it!

Hey, Falcon Cap! Sam finally getting his due. Costume is still mad wonky but seems to translate better to the big screen than i thought. Admittedly, i never thought much of it. It always looked wonky to me, even in when it was in the books.

That face mask callback was dope. Also, anti-Sharon in the house! Super curious if she is really going to be the Power Broker. It makes sense but is quite the character assassination if it’s true.

That Dam/Leaper fight was pretty okay. I watched this immediately after the new Mortal Kombat and it was legit refreshing to see good stunt choreography. And this show ain’t even a punch-out!

Karli going full villain is... uninspired? Look, i wanted to give Erin Kellyman all of the opportunity to shoe me something but she showed me nothing. Not a thing. I can’t say ma is bad at her job because I've only seen her in two things but she ain’t batting 1.00, that’s for sure. It’s frustrating because i though what they did with the Flag Smashers was brilliant. Unfortunate bit of casting here i think.

Bucky going full hero was fun to see. It’s about time dude stopped being so goddamn emo. I get the conflict, i get that’s been his entice character, his entire MCU run. I appreciate the growth.

John Walker is still a dick. I’m glad he got beat the f*ck up by a girl.

Apparently, Sam is the new Tony? TONS of little tech in his new Wakanda wings. I like how T’Challa just keeps giving away billions of dollars worth of Vibranium and proprietary tech. This sh*t has got to piss the US guv’ment the f*ck off. I mean, even if they are allies, Wakanda is a foreign country supplying unlicensed vigilante with tech that can only be matched by a dead-man? Fun!

Oh, no, she IS the Power Broker. Unfortunate... Nice play, though.

They gave Walker a redemption arc? Really? I mean, i guess, but scumbag Walker was kind of f*cking awesome.

That ending was anticlimactic. Besides, don’t Super-Soldiers heal? Buck lived. Cap lived. Bruce is on record as to being damn near immortal. is Karli really croaked or is this just, you know, for dramatic effect. Because, f*ck, was it dramatic.

Got a little preachy toward the end. As it should. That last monologue was legit the point of this show. Came across a little heavy-handed. but this is Sam at his best. This is who Sam as Cap is going to be. Honestly, he might be a little better at them speeches than Steve.

F*ck, that costume looks wonky!

Whoo, boy, that last talk with Isaiah? That’s the heat right there. Sh*t is going to ruffle some feathers. for sure!

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier went out strong. Of the two shows aired so far, this one is easily my favorite. Loki is definitely going to give it a run for it’s money because, i mean, Loki, but right now? This Black Falcon got the crown. I thought the plot was executed beautifully and actually dealt with the fall out of the Blip perfectly. More than anything, i wanted to see that world, the fallout from the most catastrophic event in universe history, outside of an individual character perspective or just a glib reference at the star of a Spider-Flick. This show delivered on that, for the most part. I wanted a bit more but what we got was enough to set the foundation going forward. Speaking of going forward, that Dark Thunderbolts Avengers movie is about to be stacked. We got our USAgent to lead the team, Baron Citizen Zemo waiting to get called up to Varsity, and a Power Broker mole waiting to be the Stark behind the scenes. With Black Widow on the horizon to add Black Widow II and Taskmaster, we have a solid squad that can give the new version of the proper Avengers a run for it’s money. This show did a lot to set up the next two Phases of the MCU and i can’t wait to see where we go from here. Now that the praise is out of the way, let’s get into the controversy and the big, fat, Black Falcon in the middle of the room.

I like The Falcon and the Winter Soldier because, aside from being an excellent addition to the Marvel juggernaut, in this sea of performative Wokeness, the MCU was able to genuinely capture the Black experience in America. With two characters, they showed the entirety of the Disney+ audience what it means to Us, here. Being young is idolizing Sam Wilson. Being an adult is identifying with Isaiah Bradley. One is the fiction, the propaganda taught to Us. The other the reality, the truth forced upon Us. That reality stings. Whether the less melanated want to acknowledge it or not, that sordid truth of Us, the sh*t you don't like being preached to about, is what gave you a country for which you can even have such an opinion. That is the truth of this America you love so much, even if you hate the stolen Black bodies that birthed it and, to this day, hold it up.

My Blackness, quite literally, historically verified, built this country. America would not be what it is today, if not for the slave labor my ancestors put forth. That's a truth. My Blackness, quite recently, saved this country. The fact that we came out in droves last November, historically numbers, across the nation, to vote out a would-be Fascist while a whole ass third of this country was okay with becoming the next Reich, is truth. We are the Super-Soldiers of this country, always have been, even if that makes you uncomfortable. Even if you don't want to acknowledge it. Even if you never recognize it. Everything you flag wave and tikki torch about, is a thing because of my Blackness. Because of my Black family. Because of my Black blood, sweat, and tears. We are the superheroes of this nation, which you do not deserve. But we are here, holding the line, since we were stolen from our homes some 400 years ago, defending this country that we built up from nothing.

We are Captain America.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 7, Number 7

What are Grandbrothers doing to that piano?

Greetings from under the heat dome, where shipments of vinyl are melting mid-journey and even the coolest of cool jazz sounds a little wilted by the time it reaches your ear. We are sitting in the shade. We are drinking lemonade and iced tea. We are looking for the window fans and lugging old air condition units up from the basement. We are, perhaps, headed to the community pool for the first time since our kids were young, though also, perhaps not. In any case, we are still getting through piles of recorded music, even in this heat, and finding some gems. Here are dispatches from the furthest reaches of Japanese psych, European free jazz, self-released indie folk, Irish lockdown angst, Moroccan raging punk and lots of other stuff. Contributors included Mason Jones, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw, Arthur Krumins and Chris Liberato. Stay cool.

Yuko Araki — End of Trilogy (Room40)

End Of Trilogy by Yuko Araki

These 16 tracks whoosh past in just 35 minutes, with most of them clocking in around two minutes in length. Many don't reach a conclusion: they simply end abruptly, and the next one starts. Araki manipulates electronics to create whirling, sizzling atmospheres of confusion, sometimes fast-moving burbles of percussion and synths, at other moments pushing distorted hissing and confrontational tones to the front. The aptly-named "Dazed" begins with a cinematic feel, then its galactic drones give way to static and metallic scrapes. "Positron in Bloom" is like a chorus of machine voices shouting angry curses into space, and "Dreaming Insects" sounds as if the titular creatures are being pulled downstream in fast-moving rapids. Oscillating between menacing and humorous, End of Trilogy's bite-sized pieces of surrealist electronics are never boring.

Mason Jones

 Alexander Biggs — Hit or Miss (Native Tongue Music Publishing)

Hit or Miss by Alexander Biggs

Alexander Biggs blunts sharp, stinging lyrics in the sweetest sort of strummy indie-pop, working very much in the Elliott Smith style of sincerity edged with lacerating irony. “All I Can Do Is Hate You” finds a queasy intersection between soft pop and tamped down rage, Biggs murmuring phrases like “I want you to fuck me til I can’t say your name,” but melodically, over cascades of acoustic guitar. “Madeline” is the pick of the litter here, a dawdling jangle of guitar framing knife-sharp lyrics about romantic disillusionment. “Miserable,” sports a bit of lap steel for emotional resonance, demonstrating once more, if you had any doubt, that very sad songs can make you feel better somehow. Biggs is good at both the softness and the sting, and for guy-with-a-guitar albums, that’s what you need.

Jennifer Kelly

 Christer Bothén 3 — Omen (Bocian)

Omen by Christer Bothén 3

Dusted’s collective consciousness has spent a lot of time considering Blank Forms’ recent publication, Organic Music Societies, which considers Don and Moki Cherry’s convergence of artistic and familial efforts during the 1960s and 1970s, as well as the two archival recordings by Don and associates, which shed light upon his Scandinavian musical activities. All three are worth your attention, but their liveliness is shaded by the awareness that almost every hopeful soul involved is no longer with us. But Christer Bothén, who introduced Don to the donso ngoni and subsequently played in his bands for many years, is not only among the living, he’s got breath to spare. This trio recording doesn’t delve into the African sounds that bonded Bothén and Don. Rather, the Swede’s bass clarinet draws bold and emphatically punctuated melodic lines, driven by a steaming rhythm section that takes its cues from Ornette Coleman’s mid-1960s trio recordings. This music may not sound new, but it’s full of lived-in knowledge and vigor.

Bill Meyer

Briars of North America — Supermoon (Brassland)

Supermoon by Briars of North America

New York-based trio Briars of North America take patient, painterly, occasionally cosmic approach to folk music. With “Sala,” Supermoon sounds like a backwoods Sigur Ros. A falsetto voice intoning a made-up language arcs elegantly over sustained waves of electric piano. Soon after, the album touches down into more grounded guitar-and-cello territory on pieces such as “Island” and “Chirping Birds,” which bring to mind Nick Drake, albeit less contrary or withdrawn. At the album’s midway point, the listener is carried into the aether with the eerie sustained brass and wordless vocals of the eight-minute “The Albatross of Infinite Regress.” A similar space is explored at the album’s end with the 12-minute “Sleepy Not Sleepy,” as strings and warbling synthesizer tones intermingle with the return of the made-up language. Though the band’s more conventional vocal-led songs, such as “Spring Moon,” are decent enough, Briars of North America touch upon something expansive and ineffable when they explore their more experimental side.

Tim Clarke

 Bryan Away — Canyons to Sawdust (self-released)

Chicago-based actor, composer and multi-instrumentalist Elliot Korte releases music under the moniker Bryan Away. His new album, Canyons to Sawdust, begins with what feels like two introductions. “Well Alright Then” is a Grizzly Bear-style scene-setter for wordless voices, strings and woodwinds, while “Within Reach” sounds like a tentative cover of Radiohead’s “Pyramid Song” that runs out of steam before it had the chance to build momentum. The first full song, single “The Lake,” gets the album up and running in earnest with its melancholy piano and string arrangement spiked with pizzicato plucks and bright acoustic guitar figures. Half Waif lends her vocal talents to “Dreams and Circumstance,” another highlight featuring some lovely interplay between guitar arpeggios and drum machine. One pitfall of exploring romantic musical territory is the risk of sounding a tad saccharine, and the weakest links in the album, companion tracks “Scenes From a Marriage” and “Scenes From a Wedding,” have the kind of performative tone you’d expect to find on the soundtrack of a mainstream romantic comedy. Elsewhere, though, Korte’s judgment is sound, and there’s plenty of elegant music to be found. Fans of Sufjan Stevens will no doubt find a lot to like, and it’ll be interesting to see where Bryan Away ventures next.

Tim Clarke

 Jonas Cambien Trio — Nature Hath Painted Painted The Body (Clean Feed)

Nature Hath Painted the Body by Jonas Cambien Trio

On its third album, the Jonas Cambien Trio has attained such confidence that it’s willing to mess with its signature sound. The Oslo-based combo’s fundamental approach is to stuff the expressive energy and textural adventure of free jazz into compositions that are by turns intricate and rhythmically insistent but always pithy. This time, the Belgian-born pianist Cambien also plays soprano sax and organ. The former, stirred into André Roligheten’s bundle of reed instruments, brings airy respite from the music’s tight structures; the latter, dubbed into locked formation with the piano and jostled by Andreas Wildhagen’s restlessly perambulating percussion, expands the music’s tonal colors. The tunes themselves have grown more catchy, so much so that their twists and turns only become apparent with time and repeat listening.

Bill Meyer

Ferran Fages / Lluïsa Espigolé — From Grey To Blue (Inexhaustible Editions)

From Grey To Blue by Ferran Fages

When discussion turns to a pianist’s touch, it’s tempting to think mainly of what they do with their fingers. But it must be said that Lluïsa Espigolé exhibits some next-level footwork on this realization of Ferran Fages’ From Grey To Blue. Fages is a multi-instrumentalist who functions equally persuasively within the realms of electroacoustic improvisation and heavy jazz-rock, but for this piece, which was devised specifically for Espigolé, he uses written music and an instrument he doesn’t play, the piano, to engage with resonance and melody. The three-part composition advances with extreme deliberation, often one note at a time, turning the tune into a ghostly presence and foregrounding the details of the decay of each sound. This music is so sparse that the shift to chords in the third section feels dramatically dense after a half hour of single sounds and corresponding silences. The elements of this music have been sculpted with such exquisite control that one wonders if Catalonia has looked into insuring Espigolé’s feet; her way with the piano’s pedals is a cultural resource.

Bill Meyer   

 Grandbrothers — All the Unknown (City Slang)

All the Unknown by Grandbrothers

The duo known as Grandbrothers hooks a grand piano up to an array of electronic interfaces, deriving not just the clear, gorgeous notes you expect, but also a variety of percussive and sustained sounds from the classic keyboard. In this third album from the two—that’s pianist Erol Sarp and electronic engineer Lukas Vogel—construct intricate, joyful collages, working clarion melodies into sharp, pointillist backgrounds. The obvious reference is Hauscka, who also works with prepared piano and electronics, but rather than his moody beauties, these compositions pulse with rave-y, trance-y exhilaration. If you ever wondered what it would sound like if the Fuck Buttons decided to cover Steve Reich, well, maybe like this, precise and complex and shimmering, but also huge and triumphant. Good stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

 id m theft able — Well I Fell in Love with the Eye at the Bottom of the Well (Pogus Productions)

Well I Fell in Love With the Eye at the Bottom of the Well by id m theft able

Al Margolis’ Pogus Productions imprint has cast its gaze toward the strange happenings in Maine, netting a mutant form of electroacoustic wizardry in the process. Scott Spear is the one-man maelstrom known as id m theft able, an incredibly prolific and confounding presence in the American northeast. He draws influence from musique concrète and sound poetry, but adds a whimsical spirit, a tinker’s ingenuity and the comedic timing of a master prankster to his compositions. Sometimes this leads to the bemusement of his audience, but he tempers any surface madness with an endless curiosity and a playful sense of the meaning of the word music. Well I Fell in Love with the Eye at the Bottom of the Well ostensibly came to be via Spear’s desire to create a doo-wop tune. Only Spear himself knows whether this is fact or fiction, because it is clear from the opening moments of “Shun, Unshun and Shun” that this disc is full of sonic non-sequiturs, amplified clatter and delightful mouth happenings that are as far removed from doo-wop as possible. The madness is frequently tempered with beautiful moments: a broken music box serenades a flock of chirping birds in the middle of a mall, Spear hypnotically chants at a landscape of crickets, flutes pipe along to the patter of rain on a window. As one gets deeper into the record, the sound poetry aspects become more and more pronounced, such as on “The Curve of the Earth” and the closing piece, “Purple Rain.” Those seeking a humor-filled gateway drug into that somewhat perilous corner of the sonic spectrum would be wise to pop an ear in the direction of this frenetic assemblage of sound.

Bryon Hayes

Mia Joy — Spirit Tamer (Fire Talk)

Spirit Tamer by Mia Joy

Mia Joy turns the temperature way down on gauzy Spirit Tamer, constructing translucent castles in the air out of musical elements that you can see and hear right through. The artist, known in real life as Mia Rocha, opens with a brief statement of intent in a one-minute title track that wraps wisps of vocal melody with indistinct but lovely sustained tones. The whole track feels like looking at clouds. Other cuts are more substantial, with muted rock band instruments like acoustic and electric guitars and drum machines, but even indie-leaning “Freak” and "Ye Old Man,” are quiet epiphanies. Rocha sounds like she is singing to herself softly, inwardly, without any thought of an audience, but also so close that it tickles the hair in your ears. Rocha closes with a cover of Arthur Russell’s “Our Last Night Together,” letting rich swells of piano stand in for cello, but tracing the subtle, undulating lines of his melody in an airy register, an octave or two higher. Like Russell, Rocha sets up an interesting interplay between deep introversion and presentation for the public eye; she’s not doing it for us, but we’re listening anyway.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Know//Suffer — The Great Dying (Silent Pendulum Records)

The Great Dying by KNOW//SUFFER

It’s not inaccurate to describe The Great Dying as a hardcore record. You’ll hear all the burly breakdowns; buzzing, overdriven guitars; and grimly declaimed vocals that characterize the genre, which since the mid-1990s has moved ever closer to metal. But Know//Suffer have consistently infused their music with sonic elements associated with other genres of heavy music. Most of the El Paso band’s 2019 EP bashed and crashed along with grindcore’s psychotic, sprinting energy. The Great Dying is a longer record, and it slows down the proceedings considerably. There are flirtations with sludge, and even with noise rock’s ambivalent gestures toward melody: imagine Tad throwing down with a mostly-sober version of Eyehategod, and you’re more than halfway there. As ever, Toast Williams emotes forcefully, giving word to a very contemporary version existential dread. But there’s frequently a political edge to the lyrics on this new record. On “Thumbnail,” he sings, “I swallow what must be hidden / Hoping assimilation makes me whole / The whole that everyone thinks I am / Smiling under this mask knowing / I’m not hiding my face in public.” “Assimilation” is a loaded word, especially on the Southern Border, and it’s no joke walking around in public as a proud black man anywhere in Texas. Wearing a mask as you walk into Target? P.O.C. stand a chance of getting shot. Know//Suffer still sound really pissed off, but the objects of their anger seem increasing outside of their tortured psyches, located in the lifeworld’s social planes of struggle. That gives their grim music an even harder charge, and makes Williams’s performances of rage even more powerful.  

Jonathan Shaw  

 Heimito Künst — Heimito Künst (Dissipatio)

HEIMITO KÜNST by Heimito Künst

The debut album from Italian experimental instrumentalist Heimito Künst, recorded over several years in his home studio, uses an array of electronic and primitive instrumentation to create an overall woozy, dark atmosphere. From groaning, atonal slabs of organ, like a detuned church service, to murmuring field recordings and scrapings, these seven tracks are less like songs and more like unsettling journeys through sound. Pieces like "Talking to Ulises" blend quiet Farfisa tones and a wordlessly singing voice in the distance. Ironically, although the final track is titled "Smoldering Life", it's unexpectedly brighter, with major-key synth notes over the cloudy sound of a drum being bashed to pieces before ending with an almost gentle, summertime feel.

Mason Jones

Jeanne Lee — Conspiracy (moved-by-sound)

Conspiracy by JEANNE LEE

Lots of 1960s and 1970s jazz reissues offer beautiful music, but few redefine how liberating improvised music can be. Conspiracy, originally recorded in 1974 by Lee on vocals with an ensemble that includes Sam Rivers and Gunter Hampel, falls into the latter category without feeling forced. It combines sound poetry, the conversation of spontaneity, and grooves that don’t stay on repetition but still get ingrained into your brain somehow. Best digested in a contemplative sitting, the album demands you give your whole attention to the direction of the music and words mixed with extended vocal techniques. The sound shifts from a full-on medley of flutes, drums, bass and horns with voice, to more minimal experiments. The recording is clean and uncluttered, even at its busiest. A lushly enjoyable listen.

Arthur Krumins   

 Sarah Neufeld — Detritus (Paper Bag)

Detritus by Sarah Neufeld

Sarah Neufeld’s third solo album grew out of a collaboration with the Toronto choreographer Peggy Baker, begun before the pandemic but dealing anyway with loss, intimacy and grief. The violinist and composer works, as a consequence with a strong sense of movement, underlining rhythms with repeated, slashing motifs in her own instrument and pounding drums (that’s Jeremy Gara, who, like Neufeld, plays in Arcade Fire). You can imagine movement to nearly all these songs. “With Love and Blindness” rushes forward in a wild swirl of strings, given weight by the buzz of low-toned synthesizer and airiness in the layer of denatured vocals; you see whirling, bending, graceful gestures. “The Top” proceeds in quicker, more playful patterns; agile kicks and jumps and shimmies are implied in its contours. “Tumble Down the Undecided” has a raw, passionate undertow, its play of octave-separated notes frantic and agitated and the drumming, when it comes, fairly gallops. This latter track is perhaps the most enveloping, the notes caroming wildly in all directions, in the thick of the struggle but full of joy.

Jennifer Kelly

Aaron Novik — Grounded (Astral Editions)

Grounded by Aaron Novik

Aaron Novik is a clarinetist with an extensive background in jazz, klezmer, rock and in-between stuff, but you wouldn’t know any of that from listening to this tape. Its ten numbered instrumentals sound more derived from the sound worlds of 1970s PBS documentaries, Residents records of similar vintage, and Pop Corn’s fluke hit, “Pop Corn.” Recorded during the spring of 2020, when Novik’s new neighborhood, Queens, became NYC’s COVID central, it manifests coping strategy that many people learned well last year; when the outside world is fucked and scary, retreat to a room and then head down a rabbit hole. In this case, that meant sampling Novik’s clarinets and arranging them into perky, bobbing instrumentals. The sounds themselves aren’t processed, but it turns out that when recontextualized, long, blown tones and keypad clatter sound a lot like synths and mechanized beats. There’s a hint of subconscious longing in this music. While it was made in a time and place when many people didn’t leave the house, it sounds like just the thing for outdoor constitutionals with a Walkman.

Bill Meyer  

 Off Peak Arson — S-T (Self-released)

Self Titled by Off Peak Arson

Presumably named after the Truman's Water song — a fairly obscure name check, indeed — Off Peak Arson hail from Memphis, TN. Their debut EP's five songs are less reminiscent of their namesakes than of heavier, noisier bands like Zedek-era Live Skull, Dustdevils and Sonic Youth. Which is not a bad thing at all. The four-piece leverage the dual guitars to nicely intense effect, and with all four members contributing vocals there's a lot going on, at times blending an interesting sing-song pop feel with the twisty-noisy guitar. The band have a way of finding memorable hooks amidst sufficient cacophony to keep things challenging while also somehow catchy. Keep your ears open for more from this quartet.

Mason Jones

 Barre Phillips / John Butcher / Ståle Liavik Solberg — We Met – And Then (Relative Pitch)

We met - and then by Phillips, Butcher, Solberg

In 2018, ECM Records issued End To End, a CD by double bassist Barre Phillips which capped a half-century of solo recording. You might expect this act to signal the winding down of the California-born, France-based improviser’s career; after all, he was born in 1934. And yet, in 2018 he played the first, but not the last, concert by this remarkable trio, which is completed by British soprano/tenor saxophonist John Butcher and Norwegian percussionist Ståle Liavik Solberg. Recorded in Germany and Norway during 2018 and 2019, this CD presents an ensemble whose members are strong in their individual concepts, but are also committed to making music that is completed by acts of collective imagination. The music is in constant flux, but purposeful. This intentionality is expressed not only through action, but through the conscious yielding of space, as though each player knows what openings will be best occupied by one of their comrades.

Bill Meyer

Round Eye — Culture Shock Treatment (Paper +Plastick)

“Culture Shock Treatment,” the lead-off track from this unhinged and ecletic album, swings like 1950s rock and roll, a sax frolicking in the spaces between sing-along choruses. And yet, the gleeful skronk goes a little past freewheeling, spinning off into chaos and wheeling back in again. Picture Mark Sultan trying to ride out the existential disorder of early Pere Ubu, add a horn line and step way back, because this is extremely unruly stuff. Round Eye, a band of expatriates now living in Shanghai, slings American heartlands oddball post-punk into unlikely corners. Frantic jackhammer hardcore beats (think Black Flag) assault free-from experimental calls and responses (maybe Curlew?) in “5000 Miles, “ and as a kicker, it’s a commentary on ethno-nationalist repression (“Thank…the country. Thank…the culture”). “I Am the Foreigner” hums and buzzes with exuberance, like a hard-edged B-52s, but it’s about the alienation that these Westerners most likely experience, every day in the Middle Kingdom. This is one busy album, exhausting really, a whac-a-mole entertainment where things keep popping out of holes and getting hammered back, but it is never, ever dull.

Jennifer Kelly

 So Cow — Bisignis (Dandy Boy)

Bisignis by So Cow

This new So Cow record is a mood. Specifically, that mood during the third and “least fun” of Ireland’s lockdowns, when you head to your shed and bash out an album about everything that’s been lodged in your craw during a year of isolation — including, of all things, the crowd at a Martha Wainwright show (on “Requests”). And while sole Cow member Brian Kelly might have dubbed the record Bisignis, the Old English word for anxiety, it’s his discontent that takes center stage. “Talking politics with friends/Jesus Christ it never ends” Kelly sings on early highlight “Leave Group” before employing a guitar solo that could pass for some seriously fried bagpipes to help clear the room. This album takes the opposite approach of The Long Con, the project’s 2014 Goner Records one-off where So Cow made more complex moves towards XTC and Futureheads territory but obscured its greatest weapon: Kelly’s deadpan wit. And while a couple of these songs overstay their welcome with their sheer garage punk simplicity, others like “Somewhere Fast” work in the opposite way and win your ears over with repeat listens. “You are the reason I’m getting out of my own way,” Kelly sings, and in doing so has produced the project’s best full-length in a decade. So what? So Cow!

Chris Liberato 

 Taqbir — Victory Belongs to Those Who Fight for a Right Cause (La Vida Es Un Mus)

Victory Belongs To Those Who Fight For A Right Cause by Taqbir

In our super-saturated musical environment, another eight-minute, 7” record of scorching punk burners isn’t much of an event. But the appearance of Taqbir’s Victory Belongs to Those Who Fight for a Right Cause (the title is almost longer than the record itself) is at the very least a significant occurrence. The band comes from Morocco and features a woman out front, declaiming any number of contemporary socio-political ills. So there’s little wonder that the Internet isn’t bursting with info about Taqbir; you can find a Maximumrocknroll interview, some chatter about the record here and there, and not much else. It must take enormous courage to make music like this in Morocco, and even more to be a woman making music like this. The long reign of King Mohammed IV has edged the country toward marginal increments of cultural openness — if not thoroughgoing political reform — but conservative Islam and economic struggle are still dominant forces, combining to keep women relegated to submissive social roles. And the band is not fucking around: their name is a Moroccan battle cry, synonymous with “Alu Akbar!” Their repurposing of that slogan in support of their anti-traditionalist, anti-religious, anti-capitalist positions likely makes life in a place like Tangier or Casablanca pretty hard. The songs? They’re really good. Check out “Aisha Qandisha” (named for a folkloric phantasm that ambiguously mobilizes the feminine as murderous and rapacious monster): the music slashes and burns with just the right dash of melody, the vocals go from a simmer to a full-on rolling boil. Taqbir! y’all. Stay safe, stay strong and make some more records.

Jonathan Shaw

 TOMÁ — Atom (Self-Release)

Atom by TOMÁ

Tomá Ivanov operates in interstices between smooth jazz and soul-infused electronics, splicing bits of torchy world traditions in through the addition of singers. You could certainly draw connections to the funk-leaning IDM of artists like Flying Lotus and Dam-Funk, where pristine instrumental sounds—strings, piano, percussion—meet the pop and glitch of cyber-soul. Guest artists flavor about half the tracks, pushing the music slightly off its center towards rap (“A Different You featuring I Am Tim”), quiet storm soul (“Outsight featuring Vivian Toebich”), falsetto’d art pop (“Catharsis featuring Lou Asril”) or dreaming soul-jazz experiments (“Blind War featuring Ben LaMar Gay”). Thoughout, the Bulgarian composer and guitarist paces expansive ambiences with shuffling, staggering beats, roughing up slick surfaces with just enough friction to keep things interesting.

Jennifer Kelly  

 The Tubs — Names EP (Trouble In Mind)

Names EP by The Tubs

“I don’t know how it works” declared The Tubs on their debut single, but they’re diving right in anyways on its follow-up, Names, with four songs that explore the self and self-other relationship. Their cover of Felt’s “Crystal Ball” tightens the musical tension of the original in places but still allows enough slack for singer Owen Williams to stretch the lyrical refrain — about the ability of another to see us better than we see ourselves — into a more melancholy shape than Lawrence. Of the EP’s three originals, Felt’s influence is most obvious in George Nicholls’ guitar work on “Illusion,” especially when the change comes and his lead spirals off Deebank-style behind Williams while he questions his connection to his own reflection. “Is it just an illusion staring back at me?” “The Name Song” is the longest one here at over three minutes, and in a similar way to The Feelies, it feels like it could go on forever, which might prove useful if Williams adds more names to his don’t-care-about list. “Two Person Love” is the best track of the bunch, though, with its classic sounding riff that swoops in and out allowing room for the chiming and chugging rhythm section to do the hard work. The relationship in the song might have been “pissed up the wall,” as Williams in his Richard Thompson-esque drawl puts it, but The Tubs certainly seem to have figured out how this music thing works.

Chris Liberato

 Venus Furs — S-T (Silk Screaming)

Venus Furs by Venus Furs

Venus Furs sounds like band, but in fact, it’s one guy, Paul Krasner, somehow amassing the squalling roar of psychedelic guitar rock a la Brian Jonestown Massacre or Royal Baths all by himself. These songs have a large-scale swagger and layers and layers of effected guitars, as on the careening “Friendly Fire,” or hailstorm assault of “Paranoia.” A ponderous, swaying bass riff girds “Living in Constant.” Its nodding repetition grounds radiating sprays of surf guitar. You have to wonder how all this would play out in concert, with Krasner running from front mic to bass amp to drum kit as the songs unfold, but on record it sounds pretty good. Long live self-sufficiency.

Jennifer Kelly

 Witch Vomit — Abhorrent Rapture (20 Buck Spin)

Abhorrent Rapture by Witch Vomit

Witch Vomit has one of the best names in contemporary death metal (along with Casket Huffer, Wharflurch and Snorlax — perversely inspired handles, all), and the Portland-based band has been earning increasing accolades for its records, as well. They are deserved. Witch Vomit plays fast, dense and dissonant songs, bearing the impress of Incantation’s groundbreaking (gravedigging?) records. Does that mean it’s “old school”? Song titles from the band’s previous LP Buried Deep in a Bottomless Grave (2019) certainly played to traditionalists’ tastes: “From Rotten Guts,” “Dripping Tombs,” “Fumes of Dying Bodies.” And so on. This new EP doesn’t indicate any significant changes in trajectory or tone, but the songwriting makes the occasional move toward melody. See especially the second half of “Necrometamorphosis,” which has a riff or two that one could almost call “pleasant.” If that seems paradoxical, check out the EP’s title. Is that an event, a gruesome skewing of Christianity’s big prize for the faithful? Or is it an affective state, in which abject disgust somehow builds to ecstatic transport? Who knows. For the band’s part, Witch Vomit keeps chugging, thumping and squelching along, doling out doleful songs like “Purulent Burial Mound.” Yuck. Sounds about right, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

 yes/and — s-t (Driftless Recordings)

yes/and by yes/and

This collaboration between guitarist Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and producer Joel Ford (Oneohtrix Point Never) is an elusive collection of shape-shifting instrumentals. Each piece is built around Duffy’s guitar, yet the timbre and mood tends to switch dramatically between tracks. The album’s run-time is fairly evenly split between dark, atmospheric pieces, such as “More Than Love” and “Making A Monument,” and hopeful, glimmering miniatures, such as “Centered Shell” and the wonderfully titled “In My Heaven All Faucets Are Fountains.” “Learning About Who You Are” looms large at the album’s heart, as nearly eight minutes of hazy, wind-tunnel drone pulses and reverberates across the stereo space. Despite the variation in tone, each track stakes out its own territory in the tracklist, and it’s only “Tumble” that comes across as an unrealized idea. While it’s only half an hour, yes/and feels longer, its circuitous routes opening up all kinds of possibilities.

Tim Clarke

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Visions Of Bodies Being Burned clipping.

clipping.'s second entry in their horror anthology collection follows up 2019's There Existed an Addiction to Blood by conjuring up an atmosphere that rarely allows a moment to catch your breath. Here the Los Angeles-based trio takes Apple Music through the record's many horrors.

Say the Name William Hutson: “I had always wanted to make a track using that phrase from the Geto Boys, and we had talked about doing a Dance Mania Chicago ghetto house track about Candyman. I always liked that idea of a slow, plodding, more dance-oriented track, using that line repeated as a hook.” Daveed Diggs: “We had always talked about how that line is one of the scariest lines in rap music, it's just really good writing. Scarface does that better than anybody. What we had was this very Chicago, these really specific reference points, to me, that I had to connect. That's how I saw the challenge in my head, was like there's this very Texas lyric and this very Chicago concept. Fortunately, Candyman already does that for you. It's already about the legacy of slavery in this country. So I just got to lean into those things.”

’96 Neve Campbell (feat. Cam & China) Jonathan Snipes: “This was actually the second thing we sent them—we made an earlier beat that had a sample that we couldn't clear. We wanted to make something that sounds a little more like jerk music and something that's a little bit more tailored for them.” WH: "We didn't have our Halloween, Friday the 13th slasher song. The idea was to not have Daveed on it at all, except to rap the hooks, and just to have female rappers basically standing in for the final girl in a slasher movie. But then we liked Daveed's lines, we wanted him to keep rapping on it.” DD: “It felt too short with just two verses. We were like, ‘Well, put me on the phone and make me be the killer.’” WH: “There's a Benny the Butcher song called '’97 Hov,' this idea of referring to a song by a date and a person that's the vibe you're going for. So some of the suggestions were like, '’79 Jamie Lee Curtis' or '’82 Heather Langenkamp.' But then with Daveed on the phone and making a Scream reference, '’96 Neve Campbell' made more sense.”

Something Underneath DD: “There's a whole batch of songs we recorded in New York while I was also doing a play, and so we'd work all day and then I'd go do this show at night. For a long time, there was a version of this one that I couldn't stand the vocal performance on. It's obviously a pretty technical song, and I just never nailed it and I sound tired and all of this. So it ended up being the last thing we finished.”

Make Them Dead WH: “We did ‘Body & Blood’ and ‘Wriggle,’ which both take literal samples from power electronic artists and turned them into dance songs. The idea for this was, let's do a song that instead of borrows from power electronics and makes it into a dance song, let's try to just make a heavy, slow, plodding thing that feels like real power electronics.” DD: “When we finally settled on how this song should be lyrically, it was actually hard to write. Just trying to capture that same feel. There's something about power electronics that feels instructional, feels like it's ordering you to do something. The politics around it are varied, depending on who is making the stuff. But in order to sit within that, it had to feel political and instructional, but then that had to agree with us.”

She Bad WH: “That's our witchcraft track.” JS: “Obviously, this ended up having some melodies in it, but it started as those, but it really is just field recordings and modular synths, and there isn't a beat so much and the melody is very obtuse in the hooks. It's mostly just looped and cut field recordings.” DD: “I've been moving away from something that we did in a lot of our previous records, like really super visual, like precise visual storytelling that feels really cinematic, where I'm just actually pointing the camera at things, so that was fun to try that again.”

Invocation (Interlude) (with Greg Stuart) WH: “It's a joke about Alvin Lucier's beat pattern music, his wave songs and things like that, but done as if it was trying to summon the devil.”

Pain Everyday (with Michael Esposito) DD: “I love this song so much. Also, I definitely learned while writing it why people don't write whole rap songs in 7/8. It's not easy. The math, the hidden math in those verses is intense. It kept breaking my brain, but now that it's all down, I can't hear it any other way, it sounds fine. But getting there was such a mindfuck.” WH: “So then the idea was it's in 7/8, it's about a lynched ghost, so the idea we had was a chase scene of the ghost of murdered victims of lynching.”

Check the Lock WH: “This was conceived as a sequel to a song by Seagram and Scarface called ‘Sleepin in My Nikes.’ That was a rap song about extreme paranoia that I always thought was cool and felt like a horror, like an aspect of horror.” JS: “This is the one time on this album that we let ourselves do that like John Carpenter-y, creepy synth thing.”

Looking Like Meat (feat Ho99o9) DD: “I think they reached out wanting to do a song, and this had always felt, we always wanted this to be like a posse track, kind of. This was another one that I wasn't going to write a voice for actually, we were going to try to find a better verse.” JS: “Which is why the hooks are all different—we were going to fill them in specifically with features, but sometimes features don't work out. This is like our attempt at making the more sort of aggressive, like a thing that sounds more like noise rap than we usually do.” WH: “The first thing on this beat was I bought 20 little music boxes that all played different songs, and I stuck them all to a sounding board and put contact microphones on it, and just cranked them each at the same time.”

Eaten Alive (with Jeff Parker & Ted Byrnes) DD: “I had been in this phase of listening to Nipsey [Hussle] all day, every day, and all I wanted to do was figure out how to rap like that. So from his cadence perspective, it's like my best Nipsey impression, which we didn't know was going to turn into a posthumous tribute.” WH: “And the rapping was also partly a tribute, just spiritually a tribute to No Limit Records. That's why it's called 'Eaten Alive,' which is named after a Tobe Hooper horror movie about a swamp.”

Body for the Pile (with Sickness) WH: “It already came out [in 2016]. It ended up being on an Adult Swim compilation called NOISE. We did it with Chris Goudreau, our friend who is just a legendary noise artist called Sickness.” JS: “We always thought that would be a great song to save for a horror record, and then years went by and we weren't going to include it, because we thought, ‘Well, it's out and it's done.’ We looked around and I don't know, that comp isn't really anywhere and that track is hard to find, and we really like it and we thought it fit really nice. When we started putting it in the lineup of tracks and listening to it as an album, we realized it fit really nicely.”

Enlacing WH: “The cosmic pessimism of H.P. Lovecraft is all about the horror of discovering how small you are in the universe and how uncaring the universe is. So this song was about accessing that fear by getting way too high on Molly and ketamine at the same time, then discovering Cthulhu or Azathoth as a result of getting way too fucking high.” JS: “My memory is that this was never intended to be a clipping. song, that you and I made this beat as an example of, ‘Hey, we can make normal beats.’” DD: “That Lovecraftian idea was something that we played in opposition to a lot on Splendor & Misery, so it was good to revisit in a way where we were actually playing into it, and also it definitely feels to me like just being way too high.”

Secret Piece WH: “We wanted to really tie the two albums together, so the idea was to get everyone who played on any of the albums to contribute their one note. So we assembled the recordings of dawn and forests, and then almost everyone who played on either of these two albums contributed one note.” JS: “We have a habit of ending our albums with a piece of processed music or contemporary music. We ended midcity with a take on a Steve Reich phased loop idea, and we ended CLPPNG with a John Cage piece, and then There Existed ends with Annea Lockwood's 'Piano Burning.' So we wanted something that felt like the sun was coming up at the end of the horror movie, a little bit.” WH: “That was the idea was that we were exiting, it's dawn in a forest. So dawn in a forest in a slasher movie or a horror movie usually means you're safe, right? The end of Friday the 13th one, the sun comes up and she's in the little boat, but that doesn't end well for her either. We did not have the jump scare at the end like Friday the 13th.” DD: “I pushed for it a little bit, but some people thought it was too corny.”