#i play acoustic guitar usually so the body size makes up for the really short neck/scale/idk the word

[a-passing-storm]

The absolute power I feel from walking into a Guitar Center, going straight to the bass section, and then playing the Home Depot theme song on different basses.

[binniesthighs]

coax the cold | reader x chan

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: smut, lil bit of fluff 

Tags: softsub!chan, softdom!reader, virgin!chan, shyyyy!chan, lowkey awkward chan hehe, tinder hookup au, college au (very US college haha--or at least how I know it), guided sex, cowgirl, reader has nipple piercings sooo nipple play (my new kink) , hair pulling, use of petnames, praising, protected sex, fingering (f), someone’s impatient ;) 

Word count: 4.2k 

Recommended listening: bite by troye sivan 

*photocreds to OP! 

[02:05] 

you are messaging: chan 

me: i’m here by the bike locks? is this the right place? i don’t see a door anywhere? 

Buzzing above your head, a streetlight flickered from the erratic flying of moths to the addictive yellow glow. You were never really a squeamish person, but when it came to moths, there was only so much that you could take in the uncomfortable silence of the parking lot. 

A group of girls with their cropped shorts and bralettes came barreling out from a pair of doors farther down the building with music screeching from the phone speakers shoved in their tiny pockets. 

“You’ve got the addy right? You didn’t hear anything about it getting shut down? Becs was telling me that they were doing ratios so it looks like we can’t bring the guys--” 

You tapped on your phone screen to see if you had received a reply or if the little flame icon would flash while you watched the minutes tick by. 

You had a little shame about the position that you were in, and you started to care less and less after seeing this guy’s pictures. He was somewhat illusive from what you could tell. The way that he texted in all lowercase made him seem approachable but he still wasn’t one ask for pictures of your tits or send the odd drunk text asking for you to come over. 

You had send the message at this hour. It was likely that you were impatient from “playing the game” but he seemed intriguing enough. 

The Friday night was filled with energy from the other side of the street across from the apartment complex. His place was situated right on the edge of campus next to a couple run down houses with windows lit by multicolored string lights and creaking doors which let out vibrating trap songs every time someone opened them. You had left a house similar to that before coming here right when it was getting boring and the boys were getting a bit handsier than you would’ve liked. You were done making out with randoms in hallways who tasted like watery beer and bad decisions. 

“Um, hey!  Are you y/n?” The stranger’s voice called from a fire escape door. 

He was dressed simply, sort of like someone who didn’t care, or someone who hadn’t left their room since the morning. In this lighting, his hair seemed to be some kind of dark burgundy brown which was a bit different from his caramel blonde hair from the photos. You would’ve felt lied to on another occasion, but the simple trait wasn’t a game changer. 

“Uh-yeah, that's me.” You smiled bluntly, not really sure even what to say in a situation like this. 

Up close you saw what the pictures really didn’t give him justice: a faint press of dimples and stretching veins on his hands. You assumed that he was a bit smaller under the giant black hoodie that he wore, but he had that same kind of coziness that was just a little too dangerous for a hookup. 

“I live on the third floor.” He informed you while leading up the hollow sounding cement staircase. 

“Mm. Okay.” 

The stranger turned his head briefly to smile back at you, “I-Its nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” You nodded, even though he didn’t see. 

This young man’s room was nearly exactly as you had pictured it to be element by element. Like every other boy his age, he had a gaming set up with color changing LEDs on the side of his machine and a smaller TV that was hooked up to some console you didn’t care to know the name of. The floors were nearly clean and the bed made--almost like he had planned for it to be that way; you could see the dirty clothes peeping from under his bed. 

The banged up beige walls were decorated with posters of indie bands that you had heard of once or twice. He had somewhat of an organized open closet that held types of CDs and vinyl too--the room itself smelled a bit dusty like the protective covers of those albums that you associated with a record store. 

“You can...we can sit down if you’d like.” He rather awkwardly gestured to his full sized bed. You prayed that once you pulled the covers back later there would be no white stains. 

“Okay.” 

“I could-um, turn on some music maybe? If you would like?” 

“Sure!” You piped trying to sound as confident and in control as possible--it was clear he wasn’t. 

He fidgeted with his phone and a bluetooth speaker which startled him when he turned it on. Just like the posters on his walls, he picked some soft sounding acoustic song with a crooning folk singer that sounded like he was singing with the exclusive use of his head voice. 

The stranger sat next to you clasping his hands in front of him and eyes glued to the floor. 

“Sorry...this is my first time doing this.” 

“Doing...?” 

He smoothed back his dark locks, “You know...meeting up with someone like this after meeting through an app. Um...what do you study?” 

“Biochem with a graphic design minor. You?” 

You weren’t sure if this was a hook up or an interview. 

“Poli Sci Human Rights stuff and sound engineering on the side.” 

“Huh...thats...cool.” 

Both of you nodded your heads in the silence to which he cleared his throat loudly to feel the space. 

“C-can I get you anything? You thirsty or something? I can steal some of my roommate’s Smirnoff Ice--” 

“--No. I’m fine. Thank you though.” 

He smiled sweetly to hid the fact that he was rubbing his sweating hands against his pants. 

“But...how this usually starts off, you could lay down and maybe, I could get on top?” 

“Oh!” He squeaked, “Sure! I can do that.” 

The bed groaned out with the shuffling of bodies and your hookup sighed out with a shaky breath and squirming legs. “Like this?” 

Rather than saying more, you crawled carefully over to him to the tune of his quickening chest and widened eyes. The shier he got, the harder it was for you to keep it in--he was ridiculously cute and your mind could only run wilder thinking about how he would react to everything you were about to show him. Your hands crept to the hem of his hoodie where you teased cold thumbs to his torso. 

“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?” 

Chan nodded eagerly with hair fluffing once you pulled it over his head. 

“Take mine off?” You hushed into his ear to which he smacked dry lips to obey you. 

He took his time pulling it off you; he savored the way that your bare body looked in front of him with glossy eyes that shone with the soft pastel glow from his computer in the opposite corner of his room. His chest heaved with his excitement which only held even more shallow breaths once your top hit the floor. 

“I-I can touch you?” 

“You can touch me anywhere you want to, baby.” You followed his head back to the pillow where you parted his quivering lips with your own. You could feel his shock get caught in his throat, then snake out hotly from his mouth to yours. He kissed you carefully, but growing in greed once you ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip. His curious hands wrapped around your back where he rubbed lightly at your sides, then traversed to your chest. You sunk deeper onto him to the tune of the music skipping to the next song which sounded nearly like a chilled out pairing of twangy guitars. As far as you could tell, it sounded something like Grateful Dead. 

As your hips melded into his, Chan’s whole body jerked feeling the sudden contact of your pussy grind against him. As you had expected, he had hardened instantly, and his length bobbed and tented the thick fabric of his sweats. You kissed him deeper, exploring the corners of his mouth and the inside of his lower lip while tugged at the plush skin gently. 

You should have guessed, but this boy didn’t have a clue how to take a bra off, so you did the job for him, sure to give him a display at the same time just for the dramatic effect of your surprise. 

“H-holy shit.” Chan oggled your breasts from below. You were certain that he didn’t notice the way that he slicked his tongue slowly over his lip at the sight of you. 

“You can touch them too.” You purred back into his ear, and he eagerly brought thrilled hands to your nipples. 

“They’re really...um, pretty.” He said with fluttering eyes from your breasts to your eyes. What a gentleman he was being. 

You toyed with your delightfully hardened bud in your hand while he played with the other. You pulled lightly at the sliver stud piercing there to show him that he could do the same and wetted your fingertips with your tongue to bring the wet to your skin. He kneaded at your breast firmly at first, cupping it in his hand, then moved his attention to your sensitive skin aroused just from the softest touches. 

Your tiny moans was all the validation that he needed to squeeze harder and pull rougher. It was as if you could see his cute pent up fantasies unfolding right before you in his sparkling brown eyes. 

“Mm, that feels so good.” You coaxed him further, going to grind you ass harder into his own lap and indulging in the way that even in your shorts, your folds could part around the thick imprint of his dick. 

You collapsed over his face to align your nipples nearest his tongue which he gave no more thought. Chan kissed at them with trailing breathy moans of his own that melted into you and vibrated against the metal made one with your hardened buds. He sucked too with a flicking tongue that sent heat straight down to your clit. Each time his flattened tongue would return with the wet of his spit, you felt weaker and weaker for this boy becoming more tantalizing by the second. 

“Want to--want to take off even more?” The phrase barely escaped your lips. 

“Mmhm.” He agreed, then took to shimming off his pants quickly and watching you do the same, revealing your sky blue panties that always soaked in the way that you liked them to. 

Your show continued on, and you took two of our fingers to rub over your clit while facing him. He too had wetted a spot into his boxers that adorably bunched around the upper parts of his thighs. With your free hand, you slithered to his erection and traced the outline, leaving him on a teasing squeeze. 

“B-before we do anything else...I have to tell you something?” The young man hesitated, causing you to draw your hand back. 

“What is it?” 

“This is like my, first time, first time. You know?” 

“You’ve never--” 

“--I know. It’s...kinda embarassing...and the fact that it’s happening this way...” 

“You don’t want it to happen this way?” 

Chan stammered, but shook his head vehemently, “That's not it. I just don’t want you to be dissapointed...since I don’t really...know what I’m doing too well.” 

He cracked with a hopeful smile, and you couldn’t stand it any more. 

“Babyboy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t?”

“No,” You scooched next to him to twist a couple of his deeply cherry red strands into your fingers, “In fact, the fact that you haven’t done this before...really turns me on. Got it?” 

Chan gulped, “S-so...what-what can I do for you? I’ll do anything?” 

You pressed a light kiss into his forehead with a hand trailing up his thigh and back to his dick which still throbbed with his excitement. 

“How about, you show me how you jerk off this cock of yours, angel? And I can show you how I do the same? For starters?” 

He licked his lips once more, hooking his hands under his waistband and freeing his cock pink, and even thicker than you had imagined. You slid yourself unto his arm to cuddle up close to him, one of your legs swung over his so he could see exactly how you played with your clit. 

He wrapped his hand around his dick with a tug which elicited a tiny “ah!” from his mouth. 

“That’s it...jerk your cute cock for me...just like that.” 

His eyes devoured the circles made by your hand between your legs--you strung together your slick between your fingers to him to see. The clear stringy cum shone on your fingers, making the other boy whimper out seeing how it coated them. 

“I want to touch you too...down there, so bad.” He pleaded after pumping faster at himself. 

“Oh? Pretty boy would like to feel what it’s like to touch my dripping cunt, hm? You know that watching you makes me like this...?” 

Chan gasped out at the thought, letting out an “mmhm.” that cracked in his throat. 

“C-can I?” 

The heat of your naked bodies intermingled and turned the air of his small room dense, and each of your senses became hyper aware in your own arousal: every hair that stood on end, every flinch of his muscles beside you, you could feel it all. 

“Of course you can.” 

Chan shifted, leaving his dripping cock to pulse on your thigh where he flipped on his side to dip his hand between your folds and against your swollen clit. 

“Rub in circles baby, or whatever feels right to you...you’ll know if it feels good for me.”

He nodded with hands trickling down to your pussy heated between your legs. 

There’s something different about him, it could be the fact that you know next to nothing about him, or how he makes you bothered. 

Slowly, his fingers dip between your folds slicked from your teasing--and the way that there mere sight of him teases you. Your back arches from the press of his fingers, and your bud throbs under each and every swipe of his fingers. 

“Feels good?” He whispers into your ear, tickling it. 

“Mm-yes.” With your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull right at the roots. You bite a kiss into his lip while drawing him closer to you. His lips are plush and quivering like they can’t decide what to do with all the simulation at once. 

“Harder...you can press harder,” The words were airy on your tongue while your hips writhed. 

“Like this?” He circled harder, wider with his digits mixing with your cum. 

The room appeared to blur in your euphoria. Coupled with the gentle music playing there was a kind of peace to this boy and everything about his little space. The further he continued, the more you longed for him fully--to feel every inch of his length inside of you as you fucked him for the first time. 

Your hand grabbed at his hair even tighter: a symbol that he took as a good sign. He laughed out a little at your response. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He coos. Against your thigh, his dick bobs with a flared tip, begging for more attention. 

You moan out for him as you dig your heels into his bed, and watch the way that your nipples harden around the metal piercings just from his touch. 

“Just you wait baby, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Your kisses pull at his lower lip as you fill his mouth with more moans. “You don’t even know how fucking tight it is, how it feels when I pull you inside of me and how the friction feels when you’ll fuck me.” 

Chan shivers from your words with a gulp and lets his fingers fall down to your entrance where is curiosity gets the best of him. You wince feeling his fingers fill your pussy with the wonderful way that you desperately close around his digits. 

“Shit.”

“Are you ready?” You ask him permission before trailing a hand down his torso. 

“--Yes,” He nods quickly, “Please. God--I want to feel it. Show me.” 

You twitch from the lack of contact to your pussy when you swing your leg to straddle him. Your hips meet his, and he struggles for a moment over where to put his hands. In one motion you grind your dripping folds over his bare dick, slicking him up and down with the light grind of your hips. A broken gasp escapes from his lips which you catch with your own mouth in a kiss. His closed eyes flutter from the feeling of having you so close...but not completely yet. 

“Got a condom, angel?” You caress down his cheek and let your thumb linger over his bottom lip. 

Chan gives you a grunt in response before contorting his body to the side table where he fumbles for the plastic wrapper. His curtains dance a little with a breeze caught in them, likely from the window being open. The air smells a bit like water, and it’s cool and crisp in your lungs. It cools the surging heat that your body succumbs to. 

You move for him to roll the condom on, tracing the muscles of his chest. His skin is untouched, unmarked, and suddenly all you crave is to see him bruised and scraped in pink. You dig your nails into his chest seeing the way he jerks at himself just a bit more while looking up at you in awe. 

“H-how do we do this?” He asks. 

“Just...do as I say...’kay?” 

Your date nods, letting you take complete control over his body. You start at his neck with kisses that turn heavier and heavier then darker and darker. He busies his hands by cupping into your breasts and tweaking with the hardened buds. 

“Just lay still, I can put in the work pup, okay?” You reach for his erection further down his body, and he finds handles in your hips and ass. 

“I can do that.” He sighs out with a little groan feeling your hand squeeze at him. 

At first, you tease your entrance with his head, barely letting him feel anything besides your clit against his pink tip. His skin grows dewy in his anticipation, and he licks at his lips which dry from each breathy exhale he uses to steady himself. You take your cum to wet at his dick with your hand, and push harder at his sides with your thighs. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, got it?” 

Chan hastily nods, digging deeper into your sides. 

“Fuck, just--fuck me already...I can’t...it’s really...hurts to wait--” 

“Getting demanding now are you?” You tap a light slap to his face. “You’re doing what I say, not the other way around.” 

“S-sorry...” He whines. 

You resume, sitting properly on his length: all the way down, all the way to your cervix which screams in ecstasy from feeling him fill you so deeply. 

“Fuck.” He groans, but his curse is intertwined with a beautiful giddy smile. “Its really tight. Oh god--” 

You lean over him to attach your lips with his once more--a tiny distraction from the way that you start to roll your hips over his length. Chan freely lets his moans tickle your lips, each of them more gruff than the last as he looses himself in you and your rhythm. He’s dizzied: lightheaded--even you can tell. The new sensation takes him over, and he’s left a mess for you: hips trembling while you work your pussy up and down his length and his fingers claw into your shoulder blades. 

Chan’s Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps dry, forming praises the best that he can. “Feels...amazing...” 

You sit back, allowing his full length to tease your g-spot as you fuck him rougher, indulging yourself to all the pleasure that he can give you when you let him in as deeply as possible. He notices the change, and supports your body up with hands running up and down your chest, and down your arms where he pulls at the skin with his short nails. 

“You like this?” You gasp between each roll of your hips. “How my cunt feels on your cock? How I can use you like this? Use your words Channie.” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. Yo-You look...mm--” 

You giggle a little at the light pink blush to his cheeks and the way that he stumbles over his words. 

“Think you can last a little longer, baby?” Your fingers creep to his throat where you tease at squeezing his neck.  

He pauses, loosing himself in it again before giving you a rushed answer: “I think? It’s just...really intense I think that I’m c-close already.” 

You permit him only a couple more seconds of you, then glide off him carefully to which he whines out in confusion. 

“Your turn to fuck me now. Come on, behind me.” 

Chan looks bewildered and breathless, but he does as he’s told and tosses aside stray pieces of clothing on the bed to get to you. You hoist up your hips for him after burying your face into the mattress. To guide him further, you fuck your fingers for him too at this angle, only stopping once you feel the pressure of his cock once more. He slides himself in agonizingly slow until he bottom’s out with a choked moan. 

“Fuck me baby boy. You know what do to.” 

Your date’s hand finds your hips once more which he firmly grasps, then begins screwing into your pussy already blazing with heat and your orgasm building from before. He finds his pace after a while and fills the room with the fleshy sound of skin on skin. Your own fingers find their own way back to your clit where you rub in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Oh,” He gasps quietly. 

Your nails bury into the comforter of the bed, and your teeth clench harder as he milks himself into you and grows in pace. 

“Fuck yes baby, fuck me just like that. You’re doing so good; fucking my pussy just like you should...” 

Your orgasm quickens hearing the praises come from the bottom of your heart and the way that he grunts out hearing them. For someone who’s never done this before, it’s unbelievable how good he is at it all. 

He shudders, and you feel yourself tighten around him further, sensing both of your release coming near. Your hookup doubles over your back, burning you with the heat from his body as he fucks into you with reckless thrusts. 

“Shit, I’m so, so close.” He admits though clenched teeth. 

“Me too baby, finish me off, cum inside until you’re throbbing and you can’t take any-anymore.” 

A switches flips within this once innocent man, and you feel the bed creak as he kneels on one leg, then lifts one to stamp upon the bed to better his angle. The new position directly sends your g-spot into flames, and you shake from limb to limb feeling your orgasm right on the brink. 

He growls upon his release, finishing it off with shallow breaths once he nearly collapses over your back to feel each drop of his cum release inside of your pussy. You rub your orgasm out until you see lightning behind your eyelids and it’s heightened by the way that he twitches with his cum against your deepest spot. 

“A-are you okay?” Your adorable date immediately asks once you gasp and writhe under him. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine...fuck,” You laugh out, “That felt unreal Channie.” 

He shakes once his softening dick leaves your hole, and you get a good look at this stranger: chest flushed and hair messed over his forehead. He falls down to his side on the bed still breathless and letting out happy little laughs. 

“I’m sorry if that was like, really fast. It just all felt...so good, and, I couldn’t really control it--” 

“Mm, don’t you worry.” You sweep down to kiss his gasping mouth. Silently, you thank whoever it was in the universe that let you meet this boy on this night, and whoever willed you to leave that party. 

“What do we do now?” Chan asks, still bare for you to take in wholly. You wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find the words. He was kind of beautiful. 

“Whatever we want. I could go, or I could stay. Really anything goes.” 

His chest is peppered with your purple love bites, and you wish then to give him even more if you have the chance--whenever that might be. 

Chan tilts his head, “Stay?” 

“Well, we still need to get to know eachother don’t we?” 

The handsome stranger grins, and lets his hand trace the side of your face. The cool of the room feels addictive against you, and it weaves around your neck and against the little hairs of your arms. 

“You’re right.” He nods, “There's only so much you can tell about a person from these kind of dating apps.” 

“That’s true.” Your hand discovers his collarbones, which you trace lightly. “It’s nothing like the real thing.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes  @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[happymetalgirl]

Five* Outside albums of 2020

I do this little list every year of my favorite albums that fall mostly “outside” the metal sphere and weren’t so metal-adjacent that I reviewed them formally during the year. The past three times I have written this little piece, I have kept it to five, but *this year, I’ve just had a hard time narrowing it down, so I figured, why do that? Well, I could go through a few dozen albums or so that I fucked with this year outside the metal sphere, but I’m compromising with the addition of a new, quick (we’ll see) honorable mention section.

So, in the interest of keeping my verbose tendencies in check, I’ll cut this introduction off and get into the honorable mentions.

Honorable Mentions:

Anna von Hausswolff - All Thoughts Fly

I did review Anna von Hausswolff’s previous record, Dead Magic, back in 2018 as part of my bunch of metal albums reviews that year, because it was kind of tangentially metallic. It wasn’t a lot at a technical level, only a few metallic elements here no there, but it had a lot of harrowing qualities that I thought metal listeners might appreciate. For the Swedish singer and pipe-organist, that album really was the closest she ever came to metal’s territory, and I don’t think any flirting with the genre was intentional on her part. Most of what she does is haunting, neoclassical, organ-based music that’s usually not as wild as what Dead Magic was, and this year’s album is a real scale back to her roots and an appreciation for the pipe organ. While I do miss her bewitching vocals on this entirely instrumental album, All Thoughts Fly stands well on its own merits as both a solid tribute to von Hausswolff’s organ playing and as a beautiful, incredibly immersive ambient album that does so much with its relatively small palette. I’ve talked a few times on here about really shitty ambient music that’s approached with a clearly lazy attitude because of its supposed background role. Rather than being made to be ignored, All Thoughts Fly pulls you in and around in a swirl of lush sounds that aren’t too common in ambient music, and with a relatively minimal approach, relying on the naturally serene tambre of the instrument to fill the space with a lightening, floating ambience and well-structured movements to do the gentle moving. It’s a beautiful example of what an ambient album can achieve if it’s actually made with a lot of love and care.

Shabaka & The Ancestors - We Are Sent Here by History

Okay, that first one went pretty long. I’ll try to keep the rest of these here relatively short. Sons of Kemet band leader, Shabaka Hutchings, takes his other group on slightly less chaotic Afro-jazz odessey that what Sons of Kemet have been delivering us. While more contained on the surface within the genre’s usual light grey areas, Shabaka & The Ancestors move with freedom and flexibility on this album in a way that highlights the natural appeals of the Afro-jazz sound pallet through constantly engaging arrangements from masters of the craft.

Lady Gaga - Chromatica

I know we’re all well aware of Lady Gaga, but the pop icon has been relatively quietly been making the best music of her career since taking the edge rather than the center of the spotlight, from 2013’s diverse Artpop to 2016’s more bare-bones Joanne. And now, after her mellower, more traditional Americana-influenced album in 2016, Gaga cranks the volume and the fun way back up. Chromatica is a blast of an album whose wide span of dance pop albums influences new and old keeps it varied and lively all the way through. This album feels very much like it’s Gaga unleashed, just doing her thing and having a good time with a bunch of dance music styles that she’s always loved, and it’s impossible not to feel that enthusiasm secondhand, and groove the hell out along with it.

Black Thought - Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Abel

Black Thought has had nothing to prove since the relative inactivity of The Roots this past decade, but he has sure been rapping as if he does have something to prove on his solo work. The Philadelphia rapper put out a couple of EPs back in 2018 that showcased his impressive modern lyricism and flow, and the third, LP-sized installment in the series is just another offering of further proof of the man’s lyrical chops. There’s a little bit of an understated delivery in the music overall, but Black Thought really lets his words speak for themselves more than his moderate bravado. It’s not super flashy because it doesn’t need to be.

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher

Indie folk has always loved to soak in the puddles of personal sadness, but Californian singer Phoebe Bridgers takes the style to whole new depths of personally gripping, bordering on the outright emo, and that is by all means a compliment for rather than a shot at. The album’s candid journaling of Bridgers’ personal struggles is so tangible and so genuine that it would probably rival Connor Oberst’s best work with Bright Eyes. It is just a beautiful, yet tear-inducing album.

Alright, now on to the five “main” “non-metal” albums of the “list proper”.

Hexvessel - Kindred

Hexvessel are a Finnish six-piece whose sixth album of psychedelic folk here manages to touch on the same haunting, gothic tones that groups like Opeth and Gazpacho do at their most forest-y. Indeed, Kindred is an enchanting album, with sprawling styles and a full-bodied sonic pallet to keep it interesting the whole way through. And it’s as strong in its more bombastic song like that which opens the album as it is in its more stripped back acoustic tracks like that which closes it. Songs like “Magical and Damned” straight-up evoke Mount Eerie, while songs like “Kindred Moon” hearken to The Beatles at their most minimal and folky, and there’s plenty of spooky, mystical energy to go around. Definitely one of the best finds of the year for me.

The Strokes - The New Abnormal

Coming at the end of a seven-year gap between it and their previous album, 2013’s somewhat fan-polarizing Comedown Machine (which I liked a lot), The Strokes’ aptly named return is a return to the spotlight, but hardly to normalcy or the musical roots in garage rock that so many of the band’s fans have been sweating for. Twisting the electronic alternative rock of their Angles era into some odd, but mesmerizing forms, The New Abnormal is a subtly wild ride of an album through lots of melancholic overtones and undertones whose impact is made all the more potent by the occasional teasing of sorts with the few more traditionally rockin’ moments on here. It doesn’t take long to pull back the seemingly preppy synth rock or 80’s rock curtains to find the melancholy beneath “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus” and “Bad Decisions”, respectively. But the band aren’t even that subtle with the immediate depression of just the straight-up guitar melodies on songs like “Selfless”, “Not the Same Anymore”, and the chill-inducing soar of “Ode to the Mets”. The album’s prize piece, though, has to be the utterly gorgeous and empathetic minimalist synth song, “At the Door”, whose simple melodies and bare delivery make for one of the most gently heart-piercing songs I know and of my favorite songs of the year and probably my favorite Strokes song ever, as hard as it is to listen to. Welcome back Julien and company.

Rina Sawayama - Sawayama

Quite possibly the best outright pop album I have heard in a long while, Sawayama sounds simultaneously fresh and vintage in the landscape it was born into, making use of a lot of early 2000’s pop rock instrumentation, even some heavy metal guitars here and there, but most importantly, a real sense of passion that seems to be flat-out absent from so much of the pop that I (usually inadvertently) hear. I don’t want to overstate the prominence of the metal elements, but the album does have a bubbling, infectious energy both vocally and instrumentally from front to back that the occasional bursts of heavy guitars between Sawayama’s charismatic, dance-inducing performances do provide a good snapshot of. Furthermore, there’s a rich diversity of song types across the album that dive into the pop sphere beyond the standard trend-hopping that dominates streaming playlists and make for a dynamic and fun, rather than disjointed, pop album. And that’s all only possible with the consistently tight compositions o the album. Indeed, this is one of the best pop albums I have ever heard, certainly in recent years.

clipping. - Visions of Bodies Being Burned

clipping. are the second artist to be on here two years in a row after last year’s spectacularly spooky There Existed an Addiction to Blood, and Denzel Curry’s one-two punch of TA13OO and Zuu in 2018 and 2019 respectively. There Existed an Addiction to Blood was a thrilling and fresh take on many tropes of horrorcore with the band’s already forward-thinking and creative noise-driven instrumental production guiding harrowing stories of femme fatales and street violence in a more modern setting that often flipped the script on victims and perpetrators, as well as settings themselves. Visions of Bodies Being Burned is quite literally a continuing sequel to that explosive album, also released in time for Halloween this year; the material was recorded in the same sessions as the previous album and in the same unique vein. Consequently, there’s not really a whole lot I can say about this album in contrast with the last without getting way too in-depth and spoiling the fun. Whereas MC Daveed Diggs’ hooks were one of the biggest strong points of last year’s album, the creatively noisy production is the big star on this album. The fans seem to be leaning a bit more toward this year’s release, but I think I’m still a little partial to There Existed an Addiction to Blood. Nevertheless, Visions of Bodies Being Burned is a blood-pumping follow-up not to be missed.

Mac Miller - Circles

The posthumous release from Pennsylvanian rapper Mac Miller captures the man at his most chill and contemplative. The album is more of a minimalist ambient singer-songwriter sort of album than hip hop and its serene atmosphere becomes kind of inadvertently tragic in the posthumous context, but it serves as a beautiful swan song for the creative rapper whose struggles with addiction sadly prevented him from being able to bask in the deserved wide appreciation of his sixth album. Circles is a soulful, bittersweet cap to Mac Miller’s legacy that I think anyone will be able to feel the love and raw humanness of.

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 79

“Harper, babe, come on..let’s talk about this” Jared had to run to catch up with her outside, when he grabbed her arm she stopped and the look in her eyes was pure bewilderment “talk about what?” she looked at him like she had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. “Harper, are you serious? We need to talk about you, and everything that is troubling you right now, you’ve got so much to deal with and you’re walking around like a zombie” he bit his lip, the worry scribbled all over his face was undeniable, “I’m fine..I just need some time alone..would you mind if I just went back to my apartment..alone?” the look of detachment she gave him squeezed his throat together, of course I don’t want you to go anywhere by yourself, and especially not now, but what can I do? I need to respect your boundaries “no..you go and do you..I understand..if you need me, you know where I am, ok?”. There was no kiss to calm his racing mind, no touch, all she did was nod in appreciation, turned on her heels and half ran-half walked away from him without even looking back, who was it that once said ‘if you love someone, set them free, if they don’t come back to you, they were never yours to keep’? don’t care, all I care and wish for is that you find your way back to me real soon. With a heavy heart and lead in his shoes he started walking in the other direction, get some air, distract yourself, thinking about her walking away from you is unbearable, central park, a little bit of nature and away from this racing city will do you good. Evening was throwing its’ last rays of light around as he walked back to the hotel, so weird that every corner of every street in this crazy city seemed to hold so many memories even if they had been together for a relative short time, he saw her dance and twirl and giggle in front of his eyes everytime he turned a corner, just come home to me babe, please. “Good evening, Sir, will you be dining out? Do you need reservations?” the clerk at the hotel reception asked him as he handed him his keycard, “Uhh, no..not tonight, I’ll order in I guess..” with a friendly nod he took the key and headed on up to his room. Flicking through the channels on TV, checking his phone for the umpteenth time, checking his iPad, checking his hair for split ends, nothing could calm him down, he brushed every device from his lap and got up to stare through the window, should I call her? Send an app? Start an e-mail? Tempting but no..leave her be for a bit, if she hasn’t come back by tomorrow morning, you can go over to her apartment, give her some space.

After hours of tossing and turning his mind finally welcomed the sweet darkness of sleep, somewhere in the distance he heard a door open and close again, he was dreaming,..five minutes later he could’ve sworn he felt the mattress dip, still not waking up, I’m still sleeping. It was the arm digging under him and an arm folding over him and a warm body glueing itself against him that had him resurfacing, his eyes slowly fluttered open only to find himself wishing he wasn’t dreaming, and he wasn’t because there she was “I’m ready, Jay..I’m coming back to LA with you” her breath was warm and sweet against his cheek. Wide awake now, he rolled on his side and kissed her full lips “are you really sure? I mean..I don’t want to pressure you”, even in the darkness she could see the worried cloud veiling his eyes. “I’m not sure of most things anymore, but the one thing I’m sure of is that I love you and I want to be with you”. Jay gently pushed a strand of hair away from her face “I love you too..we’ll take it step by step, ok? We can evaluate after a month or so..”, his words made her tap his nose “now you make it sound like school, with all those evaluations..let’s just agree that whenever there’s an issue we’re open about it” she clarified, he nodded. “Thanks for giving me some alone-time” she added, “yeah..are you ok? So, did you go back to your apartment?” he tried to get to the bottom of her Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act, but it obviously was a bridge too far because she instantly shut down again “I’d imagined you being a lot happier about me moving in with you”. He stole another kiss from her lips “Honey, I've just been woken up after hours of tossing and turning, so I'm really sorry that at my age it gets more and more difficult to do all excited cartwheels in the middle of the night” he gave her a fat, exhausted grin “but trust me, I'm deliriously happy” his finger tracing the perfection of her nose. “I knew I had to give you some space but tonight was hell..being here all by myself, I barely managed to not drive myself insane” another kiss and she put her head back down against his chest “I'm trouble, Jay, plain and simple trouble” her warm breath tickled against his naked skin. “Oh no, you're not, you're exquisite trouble, but more importantly you're all the trouble I love so much..I'm not exactly your typical choir boy either, now am I?” his arm caressed her back which made her cuddle up even closer. “Shame..I could do with a choir boy in my life..” she giggled as he slapped her butt in response, “oh really? Well I may look like Jesus but what do you think I let Satan out to play?” he rolled her over and pinned her down on the mattress.

The doorbell rang, oh god, she was nowhere near ready and Jay was already there, she had left the hotel early this morning to start on getting most of her stuff ready, and even though there wasn't much to pack apart from some clothes, she didn't know where to start on all her brushes, paints, pencils. “You ready?” Jared pushed open the door, “no..I'm so sorry, I don't know where to start..it's gonna take forever to get all my stuff packed up” she nervously puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes, while he looked at the warzone in front of him. “Oh honey, you only need some clothes..I was gonna keep it as a surprise but everything you need to paint and more is being delivered to my house right now, so you can keep everything here..so next time we're in New York you can come and paint here without having to move everything”. Huh? She looked at him in shock, “but..it took me years to collect all this stuff, do you know how much even one of these brushes cost?” but his reaction was just a shrug “I haven't got a clue, does it matter? You'll have two sets now”. Was she being ungrateful? Uhg, yeah she was “thank you, Jay..just promise you'll let me pay for it?” it was the least she could do now she finally had some money in the bank, “I will do no such thing, consider it a 'welcome to your new home' present” he gave her a fast wink before he folded his arms around her waist and kissed her. “You are amazing..I couldn't have done all this, gotten through all this without your help..I don't think you know how grateful I am” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Oh trust me, I do know..I felt your gratitude last night” he grinned, stealing kisses “there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, except keep our plane waiting, so come on, let's get your stuff and let's get out of here, the sun is waiting for us”.

Was it having to say goodbye to New York? Was it all the drama with her family? Whatever it was, she was zoning out again, during the flight down here, she had seemed so absent, she had been staring out of the plane window completely lost in her own thoughts. The car drove up his driveway and he squeezed her hand “home at last”, Harper sat up and grabbed her bag, it was like she saw his house for the first time..she didn't remember much from a couple of days ago, the size of his house still shocked her. “How can anyone ever afford such a house?..I don't remember it being this big” she jumped out of the car “and I thought my parents' house was ridiculous but this one is just next level”. Jared, clearly embarrassed, shrugged, was it really that over the top? Looking at it..actually yeah..it was much bigger than the previous house “it's just a house, darling..a roof over my..our head, and aren't you glad to be out of that frikkin' cold of New York?..that's why I love LA so much, the climate is real constant all year round, good for my old bones”. A smile on the verge of a giggle curled around those delicious lips, “come on, golden oldie, take me inside” she hooked her arm in his, all the doom and gloom of the plane and car ride suddenly completely forgotten about, or was that just a fine example of excellent acting?. “Did I already tell you that your bedroom is actually the size of my entire apartment?” she dropped her bag, taking in the beautiful room full of light with an enormous, plush looking, bed against the only wall, all the rest was windows all around, guitars neatly lined up in one corner of the room..guitars? “do you keep those around to serenade all your conquests for the night?” she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “This room has got the best acoustics..that and the inspiration usually comes in the middle of the night, so I like to have a guitar at hand” he couldn't help but be a little annoyed, why was there always a sense of mistrust? “and it's no longer my bedroom..it's OUR bedroom”. Did she even listen to anything he had just said? She just sat down on the side of the bed, clearly absorbed with whatever was dancing round in her head, “what is it?” he sat down next to her, twirling a strand of hair around his finger, “huh?” to his surprise she got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the city of Angels underneath her “now that is an iconic view” she tried to change the subject, the last thing she wanted to talk about was the mess in her head. “Yeah it is” he came standing behind her, folding his arms around her waist as he kissed the side of her neck, you don't want to talk about it, fine, just know that you're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later.

This house was a maze, you needed a sat nav to find your way round here, down another set of stairs, what would be behind this door? Was that another living room? Oh, a recording studio..this house was packed with two things: music and there was some damn fine art hanging on the walls, but did it feel homely?..nope, it actually felt like a well designed roof over your head, nothing more, this house didn't feel lived in, it just had no soul..and a soul was what the owner of this house had in abundance. When she finally found her way to the kitchen, he just put his phone down “there you are”, why did she have the constant feeling that he was 'scanning' her? Like she would walk into a room and the first thing he seemed to be doing was checking her mood or her behavior. “You know I used to have a turtle as a kid and when the grass in the backyard would get long, I used to stick a little flag on his shield with gum, so I could spot him instantly at all times, I think I need someone to stick the same flag on my head because this place is a frikkin maze, I get lost every single time”. Jared started giggling behind her, “great idea! I bet you look amazing with a little flag on your head, we can make it a feature every time I throw a party”, she opened the fridge looking for something to drink, ok, water, juices in every single flavour, beers, bottles of wine..this fridge was nearly as big as his house. “Looking at your fridge, I think you probably do throw a party twice a week” she picked something fizzy and sat down next to him “do they know?”, he gave her a puzzled look “who needs to know what?”, a sip of her drink “all your friends, do they know I live here now?” oh, was that what was bothering her, nervous about meeting his friends and family, , understandable, those wackos were pretty possessive at the best of times. “No, they don't, not yet at least, it all happened so sudden, but I'll keep them up to date this week and maybe I can even plan a lovely dinner soon with them and us, they'll love you” she couldn't see that he was crossing his fingers behind his back.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 5 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene tries to reason out some deep-seated denial, and Peter defends Paul.

           Normally, Paul could spend hours in clothing stores. Tight jeans, platform boots, designer blouses and ascots. Feathery jackets and animal print coats. He’d dressed as wildly as possible from the time he was twelve or thirteen on, saving up every dime to buy new clothes, always hoping they’d be the ticket to feeling—oh, like they did. Like other people must. Confident and swaggering. Gene had been like that from the very start, even though, when he’d met Gene, Gene had been easily forty pounds overweight and was wearing overalls that only emphasized his gut.

           That had been a pretty rude awakening for Paul. He’d realized it wasn’t in looking the part. Confidence was something inherent. Offstage, he couldn’t ever seem to purchase more than small slivers of it. And he didn’t think he could purchase it now (well, on Gene’s dime), in a mid-tier boutique, self-consciously shoving his way through racks of bras. Gene hadn’t told him to pick one up, but he hadn’t had to, either. He’d known he needed one from the start; it kind of hurt to run up stairs without any support, and the nightclub would be fucking awful without a bra, but he’d just kept putting it off. As if this female body would go away if he refused to acknowledge it, like a groupie left to linger in the Coop until morning.

           Speaking of groupies, he was still wondering about the one who’d cursed him. He could sort of remember her face as Suzie had described her, but it was puzzling. The S&M bit had been relatively light, no whips or toys, and she hadn’t come across like a nut. She’d said he’d had her before. That didn’t mean much, either. Especially in certain areas, he’d end up with some of the same groupies again. Sweet Connie, for one—the only girl Paul knew for a fact had fucked every single member of the band, and half its roadies—and there were plenty others. It was almost a wrestling circuit; the girls all knew each other, even if he didn’t know them.

           But what could he really have done to make that girl that mad? He couldn’t remember promising a chick much of anything in several years. Sometimes he’d get a bit sloppy with it, toss the girl some cab fare as he asked her to leave (she’d think he meant it as a tip, and throw it back at him), but he didn’t get off on humiliating them like some guys did. They came with the room, that was all. Stress relief. God knew he’d heard of plenty of rockstars and movie stars who’d Quaalude the hell out of whatever girl (or guy) they wanted. But he’d never done something like that. Fuck, his chicks were actually sober.

It really didn’t add up. Gene was triple the cad than he was, and he still had his dick. Peter and Ace cheated constantly on their wives, but Lydia and Jeanette hadn’t joined forces and sent a sex-changing demon after them. Whatever. He exhaled, taking four bras of slightly different sizes back to the dressing room and trying on each in turn, wishing he’d let the shopgirl help. The clasps were annoying enough that he ended up having to fasten the bras in the front, squashing his chest in the process, then turn the whole thing around just to put it on. The third bra out of the stack seemed to fit the best, a cream-colored underwire one that wasn’t too padded or too heavy on the lace and flowers. It looked okay reflected in the dressing room mirror, if a little stupid, paired with the boxers he was still stubbornly clinging to.

           After another ten minutes or so, he’d also picked out a few pairs of underwear and a pair of fishnet stockings. Another half an hour and he had a fake leather jacket, graphic tee, cut-off jean shorts, and a pair of boots. He didn’t really dig the ensemble in the mirror. More that he didn’t dig the unhappy girl in the mirror any more than he dug the unhappy guy he usually saw there. But maybe he’d look punk enough for CBGB. Would he need more clothes than that, though? On the chance that she didn’t show, or, worse, didn’t reverse the curse? Paul’s stomach churned at the thought. He got another dress, two blouses, heels, and a pair of jeans, deciding he’d write Gene a check for everything once this was all over.

           By the time he headed to check out, Gene was already waiting for him with his own bag of already-paid-for clothes. Paul tried to get a peek—he didn’t think Gene could go believably punk without intense help—but Gene held his two bags closed, pulling out a credit card to cover Paul’s purchases.

           “Hey, that’s not fair. I could use the laugh, show me what you bought.” Aggravating enough to have Gene watch the clerk ring up the bra and underwear.

           “Later.” Gene looked positively amused. Paul grabbed his own bags of clothes as soon as they were paid for, oblivious to the raised eyebrow the clerk threw Gene’s way for not carrying the bags for him.

      ��    “If you won’t show me, don’t expect me to drive you anywhere for lunch.”

           The clerk perked up.

“Your girl’s driving? She’s got you by the balls.”

           “You have no idea,” Gene said.

--

           They ended up going through the McDonald’s drive-thru for lunch without Gene having to divulge any of his purchases. Paul had dug up enough change from the middle console to pay for it, and he was chatting up a storm about CBGB’s semi-resident bands—Blondie, apparently, was a pretty good act—between handfuls of French fries.

           “It doesn’t hold a ton of people, either, so if the groupie’s there, we’ll know pretty quickly. It’s not wall-to-wall like at Studio 54.” Paul shook his head. “Have you gone over there yet, Gene?”

           “Not yet.” He’d meant to. The disco had just opened when they’d gotten off tour. The big stars had already marked it as their territory, people like Mick and Bianca Jagger, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli. The prospect of being in their league was its own intoxicant. “Have you?”

           “Yeah, once. Y’know, I saw Andy Warhol there. He said he wanted to paint me.” Even through the food, Paul sounded pleased. “I kinda blew him off, I think he was just trying to come on to me, but hell, it might be fun.”

           “Getting with Warhol?”

           “Getting painted by Warhol. Jesus, Gene.” He paused. “He’s not my type.”

          “You’re not his type, right now.”

          Paul looked a little stung, but didn’t retort for a second or two.

          “What do you care, anyway?”

           Gene stuffed about a third of the burger in his mouth and shrugged.

          “I don’t.”

          “Remember when he did the Marilyn Monroe screen prints? Everyone in my class was trying to make their own versions, and our teacher…”

          Paul kept trailing off about his art magnet high school. Gene was only half-paying attention. Something strange and almost possessive had curdled in the back of his throat. He took a swig of his cup of Coke, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was the dissonance. Girls worth talking to didn’t dismiss fucking so casually. Paul wasn’t really a girl, sure—well, he was, but—

          “You’re not listening.”

          “I don’t know anything about art, Paul.”

          “You do. You draw. You used to show me your comics. Everybody knows something about art. Everybody knows what they like about it.” Paul exhaled. “Look, you’ve gotta be getting tired of my place. I’ll take you home, meet you at the club tonight?”

          “You really want to do that?”

          “Yeah, of course I wanna go to the club. I’m not losing my whole life because of one groupie.”

          “You’d be okay getting there by yourself?”

          “I—yeah, I’d be okay.”

          “Just take us back to your place.”

          “I’d be fine, really—”

          “No, take us both back.”

          “What, you think I can’t drive over there by myself?”

          “Maybe I like your company, Paul.”

          Paul reached for his soda cup. The edge of his mouth was starting to twitch up.

          “Yeah? Maybe I like yours.”

--

           By the time Paul pulled into the driveway, Gene was feeling a little sluggish. Two Big Macs, French fries, Coke, and most of Paul’s Sprite sat heavy on his stomach. He figured he’d take a nap on Paul’s couch or in his guest bedroom. Maybe play some records after, if that didn’t tear at Paul too much. Maybe get a quick dinner at a restaurant before heading to that nightclub—he almost thought he could talk Paul into it now.

           Paul seemed to have about the same idea. He kicked off the tissue-stuffed heels and headed to his bedroom, leaving the door open. Gene watched him hang up all his purchases before doubling back to the door.

           “I’m gonna sleep for a bit,” Paul called out. “You can turn the T.V. on if you wanna, I don’t care.”

           Gene nodded, and Paul shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He shucked off his own shoes and stretched out on the orange velour couch in the living room, feeling weirdly nostalgic. The last time he’d really been at Paul’s place for more than an afternoon, Paul’s place had been his parents’ place. They’d be at the kitchen table, talking about records, bumming their way through Beatles songs on their acoustic guitars, while Paul’s baby niece squalled in the background. He’d never admit it, but he envied the noise in that apartment. The coiled-up tension Paul assured him lay just beneath the surface was something he never saw.

           Paul had rarely gotten past the door of Gene’s house when his mother was around. His mother thought Paul was the Lampwick to his Pinocchio, eagerly leading Gene into a world of sin he’d already partaken in and a world of drugs he’d never touched. Paul’s ego had been sufficiently bruised by the assumption that he never tried to convince her otherwise. But Gene was sort of wondering now. If Paul had been a chick instead of a guy when they met, some mousey, bitchy friend-of-a-friend that played a little guitar and wanted to start a band, would his mother have liked him any better? Would Paul being a Jewish girl, if nothing else, have been enough to save him, her, whatever? Probably not.

           Would he have gone after Paul then?

           Probably.

           Anyway, it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan on going after Paul now. They’d get this reversed soon enough, and once the tour started back again, he’d be up to his neck in Playboy Playmates and groupies, all way easier on the eyes and the wallet and the brain than a girl with a gap tooth and a terminal case of nerves. Yeah. Yeah.

           He watched the cuckoo clock on the wall for a while, the one that Paul had gotten during their last Europe tour, waiting for the bird to pop out from the little hatch. But it, like everything else, seemed to be taking its time. Gene sighed, getting up from the couch and heading for the T.V.—what was on this time of day, anyway? Gunsmoke reruns? The only thing that stopped him from finding out was a knock on the door.

           He opened it without thinking, figuring it was the mailman delivering another of Paul’s occult books. Instead, he was met with Peter, wearing his version of casual—jeans, a vest, a pinstripe shirt, and a handful of necklaces—and a bewildered look.

           “You’re still over here?”

           “How’d you know I was over here?”

           “Ace told me. Where’s Paul?”

           Shit.

           “He’s not in right now.”

           Peter looked him up and down suspiciously.

           “Then are you gonna let me in?”

           Despite himself, Gene’s glance went to the bedroom door almost on automatic. If he could get rid of Peter fast enough, Paul wouldn’t wake up.

           “C’mon,” he said finally. Peter stalked in without hesitation. Gene had half-expected him to take a seat, but he didn’t, looming in the living room like he was certain he was being let out of the loop, without being told.

           “Look, maybe Ace can write off all sorts of shit, but I can’t.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “He won’t see anybody, he won’t talk to anybody. He gets into fucking voodoo. He has you call up Ace for his psychic. Says you’ll make sure Paul calls me back and he doesn’t. But everything’s cool, everything’s great—”

           “Pete—”

           “Something’s the matter. Paul ain’t that kind of a nut! Now, either he lost his mind or you’re pulling one on him, but either way, something’s screwed-up here. I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

           “You’ll be waiting awhile.”

           “I’ve got time.”

           “Pete, really, he’s gonna be out until pretty late, don’t you think—”

           “No, I don’t. I’m staying. You want me out, call the fucking cops. Get a real nice headline going—"

           The bedroom door creaked open. Peter turned around immediately, Gene following suit. Paul was standing in the doorway, still in that floral dress from earlier that afternoon. Gene bit his lip.

           “It’s you again!” Paul seemed to cave in on himself with every word out of Peter’s mouth, stepping back. “You—I see how this is!”

           “Peter,” Gene started again, “Peter, listen, it isn’t—”

           “You fucking asshole!” Peter grabbed Gene’s arms, oblivious to or maybe just not caring about the weight and height Gene had on him. “How the fuck could you do that to him?!”

           “You’ve got it wrong, I’m not—listen, Pete, I—”

           “You’re fucking his girlfriend! Your best friend! Paulie’s fucking losing it and what do you do, you move in on his girl! Move in on his house! You motherfucking pig!” Pete advanced, or tried to. Gene twisted away his grip, grasping his wrists. Pete yanked himself free easily, stalking forward, forcing Gene back, closer and closer to the wall.

           “Pete, calm down.”

           “I won’t! This ain’t stupid band shit, Gene! This ain’t fucking solos! You got no right to do this!”

           “Stop it.” It was Paul. Gene stared, stunned, as Paul stepped out of the doorway and into the living room, face pale. Peter was watching, too, looking disgusted. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

           “He wouldn’t?” Peter started to laugh. “Baby, he’s done it to every chick that got within three feet of him.”

           “Pete, please.” Paul was biting his lip, breaths hard. “Pete, I’ve gotta tell you, listen—”

           “Don’t,” Gene cut in, but Paul didn’t listen. God only knew why. Gene could tell Paul was scared as hell, even as he stepped between them, taking Peter’s arms. Even Peter had about an inch on him now. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull back. “Don’t do it, you don’t need to.”

           “I’ve got to. Peter, I—” He let go of one of Peter’s arms, pulling down the right shoulder of his dress to expose his tattoo. “I’m... damn it, Peter, you know who I am.”

           Peter’s face contorted.

           “What the hell are you doing? What’s that supposed to prove?”

           “You and me, w-we went on vacation together last year. To Hawaii.”

           “Bullshit, I went with Lydia! I’ve never gone anywhere with you in my life!”

           Paul was staring at Peter like he’d just been slapped, but he kept his grip on Peter’s arm like a lifeline. Gene didn’t know how to help him. Part of him wanted to just go straight between the two of them and scream at Peter to get out of there, never mind the fallout on both sides after. But he didn’t. Instead he just watched as Peter tossed away Paul’s hold like it was nothing at all, shoving him back, hard enough Paul stumbled backwards, hitting his leg on the coffee table. Peter turned to Gene.

           “You think you can do anybody any fucking way, don’t you? Fuck Paul, right? Fuck him and his crazy broad. That’s the way you are. Loyalty don’t even matter to you.”

           “Peter—”

           “Forget it. I’m out of here.”  Peter stalked to the door, shouting as he yanked it open. “Don’t think I won’t tell him what you’ve done! I don’t give a shit if it splits us up!”

[adara-of-the-flame]

Afar and SkekSil for the if they had a kid meme ~ whimperingcrystalxlord

((Under readmore, because it’s long.))

((Yes, from ‘Afar’. Because they sure as heck didn’t make these kids the, ‘traditional’ way!))

Name: Moon (not SkekMoon, just ‘Moon’) the Anarchist. Named for David Bowie’s Moonage Daydream.

Gender: Female preference, physically hermaphroditic like her Father.

General Appearance: One might say she choose to become a goth because she doesn’t like her appearance. Well, that’s half-right. She doesn’t like her face, or her body, and covers them up accordingly. Goth just looks cool, and so is black. Always wears a short top hat and round, black or mirrored shades, and ink-black shoulder-length hair like Jack White, but more spiky, and made to cover her cheeks, which are round and chubby (which she hates). Her head is surprisingly mostly human-shaped, with a very flat and low beak that doubles as her lips. Sort of like an owl. She’s learned how to hide this using a few tricks with face paint: ink your lips black like a diamond, no one knows you have a beak. Add diamonds to your eyes to complete the look. 

Moon usually looks overdressed, but not so much in extravagant layers like a full-blooded SkekSis, but more like she’s deliberately trying to cover every part of her body in clothes that seem a size to big for her slight frame. A long, heavy, black skirt reaches down almost to the ground, to hide her tail and pot belly, And, a very thick (sometimes leather) black jacket zipped or buttoned all the way up to the collar. Some jewelry (SkekSis weakness for shinnies), silver piercings, and lots of rubber rocker bracelets covering both wrists. Surprisingly, she doesn’t trim her black claws--they work perfect for strumming the guitar. Her appearance is almost reminiscent of Steampunk, with heavily Gothic overtones.

...And, she does have a tendency to get too carried away when she’s performing...or, just when she wants to speak against authority. 

Personality: She sounds a lot like April Ludgate. ...Both in tone and choice of words. If there was ever a SkekSis who would be sent to the Order Of Lesser Service for insubordination and questioning authority, it would be Moon The Anarchist. And, she would ring those hat bells with the kind of stoic pride that comes from knowing full well that her punishment could be used to put the failings of the current government on full display. Let’s just say, she doesn’t suffer the aristocracy, and despite her imposing and disturbing appearance, she prefers the company of the common people. This brooding girl loves Podlings. She’s fairly active in protesting, preaching and acting against injustices, both personally and impersonally. Though, more often then not, she comes off as pushy and annoying. She does have her moments, though.

Moon seems to have only two settings: disturbingly still and quiet, and very, very loud. Usually, the loud part is reserved for singing. It’s almost like she’s conserving her energy for the performance.... Most of the time, she has same, dull, unreadable expression on her face. 

Special Talents: Guitar, baby. Acoustic, electric, bass, ect...she shreds them all with extreme energy and movement. Much like the guy with the all-white guitar in My Chemical Romance’s Helena. Also, with a little creativity, she’s learned to play the violin with the smaller set of arms on her back. 

Who they like better: Mom, definitely. Despite all her rebellion, Moon’s a Mama’s girl. 

Who they take after more: Neither, really. Moon and her sister picked their own path, and their own way.

Personal Head canon: She’s named for the second (deliberately strange) song Adara taught SkekSil upon arriving on Thra. 

Face Claim: ...I have no idea. 

Theme Song: The Sound of Silence (yes, I know Simon and Garfunkel did it first, but Disturbed’s cover matches her better. And, Welcome to The Black Parade, by My Chemical Romance.

Gender: Female preference, physically hermaphroditic like her Father.

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

Name: Mars (not UrMars, just ‘Mars’) the Free Spirit. Named for David Bowie’s Life On Mars.

General Appearance: You know ‘Janice’ from The Muppets? A face like that, but with less long eyelashes and not so prominent lips. Or lipstick. No lipstick. Very straight, jet-black hair. We’re talking Cher in the 70′s straight, black hair. Or, like those paintings of Heian period Japan: very straight, very long. She’s bulky like other Uru, but her posture is a LOT better. 

Mars The Free Spirit loves color. She prefers hoodies, and will be seen with a different colored one each day. And, lots of rainbow, cartoon, and band name decals ironed onto the fabric. She’s also sewed on extra sleeves for her extra set of arms. And, pockets. Lots of extra, sewn-on pockets. And, a pair of saggy pants with a hole in the back for her tail. And, an overly-excessive collection of hand-woven friendship bracelets on both wrists. She’s also known to wear a pair of very large mirror-disk earrings. 

She’s very open about her unusual appearance, and is happy to answer questions when the random kid walks up to her and asks why she looks ‘weird’. She’ll even put a positive spin on it: “An extra pair of hands comes in ‘handy’! See? Did you get the joke?” Why does she have a ‘funny’ face? A tail? “Beats me. Probably the same reason I have four arms. Pretty neat, huh?” She’s extremely tall, too, at six feet.

Personality: She sounds like Autumn Blaze from My Little Pony. “Do your own thing, man. It’s all cool.” Despite her Uru heritage, Mars is..quite the chatterbox. Really. She talks a lot. And, very quickly when it’s a subject she likes. And, she likes a lot of subjects. Mars also has a tendency to run off on tangents. It’s not easy to keep her focused. She also sometimes misses the point on a topic. IE, Once, Adara mentioned that her kids are lucky she didn’t name them, ‘Pink’, and ‘Floyd’. ...Mars, who was decked head to toe in pink that day. “I could’ve been Floyd?!”

Mars also has a tendency to bob her head when she talks...or just in general, so all that long hair moves a lot. It’s a wonder it never gets tangled. 

Who they like better: ...I don’t think Mars has ever met anyone she didn’t like. You can find something to like in everybody, if you take the time, and care enough to look!

Special Talents: Guitar, definitely. But, Mars’s extra arms also afford her a gift with piano, and drums. But, she found out the hard way that it’s a lot more difficult to drag a piano and a set of drums around than she thought (The White Stripes made it look so easy!), so she mostly strums a guitar like her sister, Moon. Double necked guitars are a breeze. 

A double pair of arms means she can play dueling pianos all by herself. And, she is a skilled rapper and beat boxer--something she got from her Mother’s species. She’s got quite the talent for improvising.  And, needless to say, she’s really, really fast. 

Her music also comes with a sense of humor.

Who they take after more: Neither, really. Mars and her sister picked their own path, and their own way.

Personal Head canon:  She’s named for the first (deliberately strange) song Adara taught SkekSil upon arriving on Thra.

Face Claim: ...Anyone have a dark-haired, lipstick-free, bulky Janice puppet with extra arms, and who’s bangs cover their eyes?

Theme Song: Sunshine, Lollipops And Rainbows, by Lesley Gore.

And, yet, despite all this, the sisters are surprisingly close. They have a means of DreamFasting without touching, even over great distances, and can talk to each other inside their minds. They can’also talk the The Crystal of Truth, but to almost everyone else, it sounds like they’re having a one-sided conversation.

They are also both accomplished singers who have the ability to shatter things with their voices.

[xoleahbeanxo]

Rick and Morty: One Shot

The Song Remains the Gay

Just a little head canon that turned into a one shot. Sue me!

A soft pluck of the strings and a deep bellowing tone sang in tune with the whine of his fingers slipping along the ribbed string. He switched the cord against the thread and strummed a long fluttery note. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it was precise. It was how he wanted it to sound. Nothing concrete ever sang his soul, only the faltering tone of a hesitated strum depicted his warped mind.

“That’s beautiful.” She said.

She kept her voice low as to not disturb his creative process. Not that it mattered; he was in the zone, right where he wanted to be. Punctuating that thought with a quick E – F switch before grinding the cords to a halt, picking up with a sloppy strum that came out louder than he wanted or maybe it was exactly what the music needed. As he strummed the cigarette in his mouth bobbed in time to his music.

The flair and finish of the unwritten song vibrated his nerves, his bones; it left him feeling high and hard just as he wanted it to. That was after all, why he played. Music was the ultimate reason for so many things in his twisting scientific mind.

Rick stopped playing. His fingers still vibrated with the tones that lingered in the room. He took a long drag from the cigarette, holding it inside of him until every inch was warm.

The bed behind him shifted and he felt a warm body pressed against his back. Naked flesh ran the entire length of his spine, warming the cool skin. At first they were just lips against his thin neck and then teeth teased the already purpled mark she’d left earlier in the evening. He winced at the tender flesh before taking the cigarette from his dry lips.

“Diane,” He laughed. “Y-you’re like a fucking vampire.”

“You know you like it, darling.” She whispered hotly against his neck.

If that wasn’t enough to cause his already hard cock to bounce, her gentle drawl did the trick easily. They both laughed like idiots in the quiet of his trailer.

Diane fell back in the cot. Her tight curly brown hair fell around her face. She wore Rick’s loose fitting tank top that did little to cover anything up but that’s how he liked it. Her soft pale flesh carried the tan lines from her days helping her family on the farm. He could see the slope of her B sized breasts peaked with plump nipples that always teased a need to be touched. Her hips, curvy and beautiful, were creased by a pair of pink panties a size or two too small. Not that he minded, they were usually off, immediately after the show and his face bathed in her milky white thighs. He gave her an encore that left her screaming his name half the time, and the lord above the rest.

“That song,” She asked, taking the cigarette from him. “What’s it called?”

“Diane’s cradle.” Rick laughed lewdly.

Diane snorted and choked on the azure smoke that coursed through her lungs. Rick smirked at her, watching her tits bounce with each convulsing jolt. It rolled deep in his groin. Even though he’d spent himself inside of her twice already; he was ready to take her again.

“We should call it Beth’s cradle.” She joked.

“What?” He asked wryly.

“Well, you never know.” Her tone lilted.

She caressed the rounded part of her belly. The pouch there was made from too many snacks and soda rather than from the question that hung in the air now. Rick just stared at her.

“What y’all lookin’ at like that, magic man?” She teased, propping herself on one elbow.

Rick stared at her for a long moment, though he didn’t see the her he once did. She wasn’t that same stupid sixteen year old groupie that showed up at his trailer one night after a show. He’d almost sent her away but she’d been so desperate for a hug that he let her stay. Too bad the hug only came after he did but he still he let her stay.

Afterwards, he sat on the cot, strumming away as she kissed his back and neck affectionately. When the morning came, so did he and sent her out to get breakfast, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be there when she got back.

What was the big deal, he thought, he’d given her cab fare that was enough?

The following night, it was the same thing. She stood bathed in the porchlight outside of his trailer. She wore a short skirt and a shirt that barely covered anything just the way he liked it. All she wanted was a hug and he was weak to her and took her again.

This went on for week until he grew to expect her there on his doorstep. So much that he found himself happily waiting for her outside. Now the hugs came first, and so did the kisses, and the long talks, and the belching contests, and the foul jokes. And sometimes, he never came at all. And the song’s first notes were created.

***

Rick rested in the lawn chair outside his trailer. He was hunkered down over his guitar. His fingers found the notes of the song that he’d been working on for almost a year now. The title read Diane’s Cradle but it had since been scratched out and Beth, written in pink ink, took its place.

He stopped to make an adjustment in pencil before starting again.

“Well, Rick?” The voice asked.

He’d almost forgotten that Diane was standing there, even though he’d seen her coming up the way. She always came when she heard him play but he rarely came when she was around anymore, so it was easy to ignore her.

“Well what?” He asked, tired from his long days on the road.

“Should we call her Beth?” Diane asked.

She cupped her small pouch beneath the long white blouse she wore.

Rick didn’t hear her though. All he could hear was a distant whining in his ears like the feedback of wily amp. Soon it was joined by the rapid bumping of the snare drum of his heartbeat. He looked at her. Her lips were moving but he heard nothing that she had to say. Slowly, he nodded his head.

And the baby’s name was Beth. And the song became nameless.

***

           Rick sat in his trailer, sweaty from his gig and yet his soul begged to be sated for the mediocre show hadn’t been enough.

He played the tune that had haunted him for just over a year now. All the pieces were falling into place. The notes on the page were near perfection and he could play it without the music sheets.

It was the song that lured her to him again. It was the same song that came with a steady knock on his trailer door. And Diane stood under the pale porch light. Her hands caressing the heavy belly that hung out from beneath his tank top that barely covered anything just the way he’d come to hate.

Diane’s smile was so desperate for a hug and he invited her in. Unfortunately for him the hug came after she did and he would have to listen to her talk about Beth.

Then in the morning, she’d come again. He sent her to get breakfast and she knew full well he’d not be there when she got back and would never be there for her again.

And the woman’s name was Diane. She had a child named Beth and the song remained the same, unheard and nameless.

***

Rick pulled the helmet off. His breath ragged as he teetered on his feet. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his stubbly cheeks. No matter how hard he tried, he could halt the hitching sobs in his chest. He looked at the red tube clutched in his shaking hand. ‘Goodbye Diane’ was what the label said on the side of it.

“Diane,” He whispered, his voice trembling.

At hearing the name, there was a moment of clarity. His eyes moved to look at the three other tubes sitting on the table. His three worst memories in a room full of otherwise bad decisions. Through the pain, he knew what he had to do.

Rick passed through his lab, picking up the old ruddy guitar case that sat in the corner. He set it on the table and opened it. The old acoustic guitar had seen better days but still made his chest swell.

There, lying across the face of the guitar was a stack of music sheets. The title at the top consisted of many corrections because Rick never felt strongly towards anything that could inspire the name of his song, at least, until now.

He scribbled something on the title line next to the others before tossing everything back in the guitar case and started up the ladder to the garage, then to the kitchen. His thoughts guided his feet up the stairs, and into the all too familiar bedroom.

“H-hey Rick!” Morty said.

The boy lounged on his bed focusing on the small handheld game device that beeps and blooped noisily. Without saying anything, Rick snatched up the device with one hand, flicking open a portal with the gun in his other. He tossed the device through and deactivating it all in one fluid motion.

“Aw geez, Rick! Wh-what the fuck was that for?” Morty squawked, sitting up in his bed.

“Keeping you from rotting you – you’re fucking brain, Morty!” He grumbled.

“Y-you’re a real dick, you know that?”

“Sh-Shut up, Morty, I-I brought you something.”

Rick held up the battered guitar case.

“Aw, is that, like, your old guitar. God, Rick, are you – are you going to sing me a lullaby or maybe a love song.” Morty laughed.

“Well, Morty, if y-you must know, I was thinking about teaching you how to play this guitar. It might get you laid f-for a, you know, a change.”

“Might get you laid, more like it!” Morty scoffed.

“What?”

“I – I said I’m really excited, Rick.”

“That’s what I thought y-you said, you fucking piece of shit.”

Rick slammed the guitar case down on the bed, nearly hitting Morty with it. He flipped it open and jerked the guitar roughly from its cradle by its neck. The music sheets inside fluttered around before slowly swooped in to land on the floor around Morty’s feet.

“Wh-What’s this?” He said scooping up the front page before Rick could grab it.

“It’s a song I’ve been fucking with for a – for a few days now.” Rick lied.

“Morty’s Cradle,” Morty said, looking up at him with great big eyes. “I-I don’t know, it sounds pretty gay to me, you know?”

It was Rick’s turn to scoff as he snatched the paper away along with his guitar, starting to shove them back into the case.

“No – no, Rick, I’m sorry. I was just, you know, I was just teasing you.” Morty laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that’s ah – that’s really funny there, Morty.” Rick gritted his teeth.

Rick thrust the guitar in Morty’s lap roughly before settling in on the bed next to him. Morty adjusted the strap around his neck before looking to Rick for a little more guidance. He helped the boy line his fingers up just right, and passed him an official “Flesh Curtain” guitar pick.

That’s when Morty strummed his first cord. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it was precise. There was something surprisingly optimistic about the look on Morty’s face. It reminded Rick of a distant memory that he struggled so hard to forget. It left him desperate for a hug but no one came to stand under his porchlight. And the song was finally heard and it finally had a name.

[pigsonthewingpdx]

We could become slaves to our equipment...volume 2

WARNING: GUITAR GEEK LANGUAGE FOLLOWS 

David Lindenbaum is the second half of the Pigs on the Wing guitar team and an accomplished solo artist in his own right ( check out his solo album Ether Day if you have done so yet).   While Dave is an old hand at performing Pink Floyd’s music, he actually came into the band a bit later - as Pigs on the Wing began life as a single-guitar band in the spirit of the original Pink Floyd.  A seasoned and infinitely adaptable musician, Dave played his first gig with Pigs on the Wing as sub bassist - before convincing the band ( rightly so) that they really needed a 2nd guitarist. Today we’re going to take a look at Dave’s guitar setup for Pigs on the Wing - and the equipment he uses to achieve the classic Pink Floyd guitar tones.

Dave onstage with Pigs on the Wing in 2015

POTW: What is your approach in general terms to getting the David Gilmour sound ?  Do you ever improvise or do you tend to play the parts note for note?

DAVE: As for as his sound, I shoot for something in the right ballpark. I’ve never tried to replicate his exact gear or anything, but have rather tried to stick to the spirit of it. For the parts I go mostly note-for-note, leaving windows here and there to be spontaneous. Here again, when I improvise  I tend to stick with my perception of the spirit of the music. Once in a while I just cut loose and play off the top of my head, usually during sections where we’ve added jams that aren’t in the original arrangements. 

For iconic stuff like the Brick Pt. 2 or Time solos, I play those note-for-note, figuring that fans expect to hear them that way, and also that I can’t improve on perfection. On lesser known stuff I’m more open to interpreting or improvising. 

Pigs on the Wing in 2012

POTW: You came into this project after it was established, originally as a 1 guitar band - what was the process like for finding a place for both guitarists ?

DAVE: For me it was mostly a process of playing as little as possible at first and waiting to be invited to add more. I’ve always been a collaborative player, and think of my self as primarily a colorist, so that process happened naturally for me. Over time we had conversations about me taking on some of those iconic note-for-note parts since I knew many of them already. Jason likes to be a little looser and keep things a little more spontaneous, so we evolved organically into roles that suit our strengths as players. We sometimes have guitar practices where we go through each song and fine-tune our parts and how they work together. Generally we try to err on the side of leaving more space and playing less. 

I’ve also become the de facto utility player, handling acoustic, lap steel, and other miscellaneous parts. Again this plays to our respective strengths because Jason mostly likes to play electric, whereas I grew up playing 12-string, nylon-string, and things like that. I learned to play songs like Fearless, Is There Anybody Out There?, and Wish You Were Here as part of learning guitar when I was a teenager, so it was natural for me take on that role in the band, to fill that need, if you like.

POTW guitars - onstage - 2018 Finding the Dark Side of the Moon tour

POTW: Let's talk about your guitars.  Tell us about your main instrument(s) and why they work for this project.

DAVE: I’m pretty much a maple-neck Strat guy generally, probably because my first decent guitar as a kid was a Japanese Squier Bullet, a 3/4-size Strat body with a maple Tele neck. I played that guitar for 11 years before finally getting a Strat, so by then nothing else felt right in my hands but a Fender with a maple neck! Plus I think they’re more versatile than most other guitars. With the right pickups you can play any style of music with a Strat. I also like that Strats are a bit harder to play than other electrics. They make you work a little harder, so when I dig in things don’t get chaotic, unless I want them to. Over the years I’ve had four different Gibsons - a Les Paul, SG, Firebird, and ES330TD, in that order - and ended up selling all of them eventually. 

Dave’s Stratocasters

I just got a new Strat that is quickly becoming my main electric - an Ed O’Brien (from Radiohead) signature Strat. It comes stock with pretty much all of the stuff I would want to mod a Strat with, like a Sustainer pickup and a mini-humbucker in the bridge, a Little JB. I had locking tuners put in and had it set up for 10s. I also ended up swapping necks with my now-former main Strat because the stock 21-fret V neck felt weird after 33 years playing C necks, most of which had 22 frets. 

I love my Ebow, so the idea of the Sustainer was very appealing to me. I use it on Echoes and plan to use it extensively on Shine On when we bring that back into the set later this year. My now-backup guitar is a heavily modified 2011 sunburst American Standard Strat. I put a Duncan STK6 in the bridge, wired in a coil-tap switch, and put in a switch to add the neck pickup to the bridge out-of-phase. It also has a bone nut and locking tuners. As noted above, it now has the 21-fret V neck from the Ed O’Brien. 

I use a Guild 12-string for all steel-string acoustic parts, except for Dogs, for which I play an old Yamaha 6-string tuned to D standard. I play a Yamaha nylon-string acoustic-electric for three songs on The Wall. I also play a Supro 6-string lap steel guitar in drop-D tuning for slide parts. 

Dave’s pedalboard setup as of Sept 2018

POTW: How do you generate the distortion and overdrive effects ?  Do you use a Big Muff ?  How about the Leslie effects?  What is the most irreplaceable pedal on your pedalboard ?

DAVE: I mostly use a Fulltone GT500 for distortion. I really prefer amp gain, but somehow ended up going this route a few years ago. 

I recently incorporated a backwards-plugged wah to my setup for the creepy whale sounds on Echoes and Is There Anybody Out There? It works great unless you happen to use wireless, so I ended up adding an A/B switch so I can use a cable with the wah and wireless for everything else. I recently got a 5 channel looper pedal with an A/B so the current A/B will go away. It’s like Medusa’s head of snakes - every time I get rid of something, 2 more things take its place! 

I have a Boss RT20 rotary speaker pedal that I like a lot. It’s versatile and indestructible. I also have three Analogman-modded pedals that I love - a Small Stone phase shifter, a VPJr volume pedal and a Boss TR2 tremolo. The most indispensable pedal on my board is definitely the Boss DD20 delay. Many Floyd songs are dependent on delay for tempo, so a good-sounding, reliable and programmable delay is crucial, and the Boss is all of those things; and like the RT20, really all Boss stuff, it’s indestructible. Our stuff takes a fair amount of abuse so roadworthiness counts for a lot.

POTW: Gilmour was known for playing through 100 watt Hiwatts at very high volume - what's your amp setup these days, and how is it similar or different from Gilmour's?

DAVE: I’m using a 1967 Fender BandMaster Head with two identical Avatar 2x12 8-ohm cabs. They are of the now-discontinued Vintage Diagonal series, which means the speaker board is mounted on a slight upwards tilt to facilitate being easier to hear on stage. They each have one Vintage 30 and one G12H30 speaker. I have to give a big shout-out to Avatar for making me a second cab to my specs despite discontinuing both the model in particular and custom orders in general. 

My setup is different from Gilmour’s in that it is significantly lower wattage - 50 compared to a couple hundred or more, depending on how many heads he uses nowadays - and I play at a comparatively low volume. Similar to Gilmour, my rig is set up for clean headroom as opposed to high gain. 

Dave’s amp rig - Sept 2018

POTW: On that note - how is your rig similar or different from Jason's rig ? Is it ever chaos having 2 guitars on stage at the same time ?  How do you guys create space for both instruments ?

DAVE: My rig is very different from Jason’s in a couple of ways. He uses an Orange head into a Marshall 4x12, and uses the effects loop for his pedals. His amp has a high gain channel that he uses for most of his leads. My rig doesn’t have an effects loop so my pedalboard runs straight into the amp. Jason uses cables, whereas I am wireless. 

On the other hand, we  both have pretty similar pedal layouts, including 2 or 3 of the same pedals, and we both use tube amps. I started using Gilmour-style short trem arms after seeing how much Jason liked his, and Jason turned me on to Analogman pedal mods.

It can be a little chaotic with the two of us, especially on really loud and jammy songs like Interstellar Overdrive or the middle part of Echoes. As mentioned earlier, we put a lot of time into arrangements so we don’t step all over each other. It helps that neither of us are showboats or egotists. We’re pretty mellow and considerate. And sometimes a little chaos is a good thing! Mostly we try to avoid having our combined stage volumes blow out the eardrums of our band mates, our audiences, or ourselves, and/or irritate Shira, our FOH sound engineer. 

Pigs on the Wing live 2018

POTW: Last question: Boss or EHX pedals ?

DAVE: Yes, please. I am an equal-opportunity pedal nerd. 

[gibsonmusicart]

Recording The Acoustic Guitar

By the Audio Recording Center

While the acoustic guitar remains one of the most simple instruments by design, it also remains one of the hardest to get a great sound on in the studio. It's really not brain surgery, but knowing some of the basic laws of physics doesn't hurt. Unfortunately, I skipped school that day and didn't learn my physics, so I had to learn how to get a great acoustic guitar sound one mistake at a time. After making those mistakes, I sat down and formulated these laws which are considered to be the Ten Commandments of recording the acoustic guitar (by me anyway). For the sake of argument I'm going to assume that if you're reading this, you own a 4 track, or an 8 track recorder, a fairly small console, some basic outboard equipment, and you don't own any $2,000 microphones. If you own 13 foot long console and a 48 track digital machine, you can skip this article because you probably know what I'm about to tell you. Rule 1 • A condensor mic will almost always sound better than a dynamic mic for acoustic guitars. There are several condensor mics that are currently on the market in the $350 price range that sound great on acoustics. Rule 2 • New strings will always sound better for recording than old. Rule 3 • Skinny strings sound brighter than fat ones (can you believe I get paid to write crap like this?!) Rule 4 • The sound you get has a great deal to do with the dynamics of the player. Rule 5 • Get down on your knees and position your ear as if it were the microphone while somebody else is playing the guitar. Move your ear around to find "sweet spots". You'll learn more from that, than you will by reading this article. Don't try it with an electric guitar! Rule 6 • If you have somebody that is assisting you on the session, have them move the mic around what you think will be the sweet spot while the player is practicing the part he or she is about to lay down. Have your assistant wear headphones so you can communicate with him while the moving of the mic is taking place. Rule 7 • A limiter/compressor will almost always help you get a better sound. Rule 8 • Don't believe everything you read. I only have seven commandments, not ten. Let's get right to it. If the sound you want to get is a country/pop, strummed sound similar to the Eagles "Lyin' Eyes", here's the formula: Place the microphone about 6 to 8 inches from the guitar's sound hole, but angle the mic toward the area where the fretboard and the sound hole meet. If you point the mic directly into the sound hole, it will be very full -- probably much too full, and very boomy. Use a compressor/limiter to knock down any peaks (3:1 ratio), and set the threshold a little lower to give it a slightly "squashed" or tighter sound. Set the threshold higher to just limit the peaks and give a more open sound. You may need to EQ out some boominess. If so, try rolling off some bottom (100Hz), or cutting a couple of db at 300Hz. To add some "silk" on the top end, try something in the 8-10K range, but be careful, to much will add noise to the track. Positioning the mic so it angles toward the pick will give more attack-less sweetness. For that John Cougar Mellenkamp sound, try medium gauge strings, a little more compression, and try adding a little EQ around the mids -- lets say 700Hz-1.2K. That will give you a sound that is a little more "woodsy" (a highly technical term). "Ya, well what about Melissa Ethridge," you say. Try this on for size. Use a guitar with a built-in pick up and a microphone to boot. You will undoubtedly get some phase anomalies, but that's part of the sound. Experiment with moving the mic closer and farther. That will affect the phase relationship of the two sound sources. Sooner or later, you'll hit on something that will put a smile on your face. You can pan the two signals left and right to get a broad stereo sound, but make sure that if you check the sound in mono, that there's still some signal left. Keep an eagle ear on Mr. Phase, he can be a tricky bugger. And now ladies and gentlemen, for the most often heard acoustic guitar sound at the 1993 Grammys . . . it's that Eric Clapton classical/gut string guitar! Piece of cake. Once again, use a condensor mic, but place it about ten inches away from the guitar. As a matter of fact, try placing it about 3 to 4 inches up the neck, but aim it at the players picking fingers. This angle will reduce boominess by virtue of the mic's cardioid polar pattern producing a natural roll off when it's aimed off-axis, while simultaneously delivering the attack of the fingers. Try and say that three times in a row! The added distance will pick up some of the guitar body's resonance. A compressor/limiter is a must for this case because of unexpected peaks. A 4:1 ratio is a good place to start, but set the threshold fairly high so that the most of the guitar's natural dynamics are left in tact. When mixing acoustics guitars for rock or alternative tracks, you will usually have an electric guitar or two in the track as well. My personal preference is to pan the acoustic and electric across from each other. Send one full left, and the other full right. You'll quickly discover that the electric will overpower the acoustic and the most effective way to even them out is to compress the acoustic a little bit more than what you may have already done going to tape so you can bring the acoustic's level up high enough to compete with the electric. Another simple but effective trick is to have the acoustic and electric guitars play parts that counter each other rhythmically (giving them each their own space), and have them each play in a different octave. That will give you a full sounding track that remains open and airy at the same time. You can also make an acoustic guitar sound bigger or more rock-like by panning the original to one side and a delayed signal (short delays are best) of the same guitar to the other side. That effect can be taken one step further by using the pitch change option on your delay to "de-tune" one of the guitars just a pinch (one cent is a good place to start). The delay will provide the brain with the psychoacoustic information it needs to perceive the guitar as bigger, while the pitch change will make it appear "fatter." Funny how fatter is always better in the world of recording, but not in the case of the human body. Just a tangential observation . . . must be time to go. See you next month.

Source: Music-Articles.com

[instrumentshed-blog]

Types of Ukuleles And  A Buying Guide.

This article will cover the differences of various kinds of ukuleles. Hopefully you can use some of the information here to help in your ukulele selection.

There are four types of Ukulele. The one most people are familiar with as having that classic ukulele sound is the soprano size ukulele. The soprano is the smallest of the ukulele family and its plucky sound is due to its petite size.

Facts of ukuleles:

There are 4 types: soprano, concert, tenor, and bass.

The first three are commonly tuned the same way- G C E A

The bass is the largest and is tuned like a guitar missing 2 strings -D G B E

Sizes of ukulele:

The differences between the sizes come down to the length of the fretboard, the width of the frets, and resonance.

As the body gets larger the tone changes, offering fuller sound getting progressively closer to an acoustic guitar sound.

Tuning:

There are a variety of ways to tune a ukulele. The most common is called reiterant, where the G string is higher than the C string. This is the classic tuning, and many people remember it by the tune "my dog had fleas". The concert and tenor models can also be tuned in what is called linear, with the G string a fourth lower than the C string, and the C E and A strings remaining the same as reiterant. However, I find that it is fun to use the high G tuning for a tenor, so you get the feel and unique sound of a ukulele.

As mentioned the Bass ukulele most closely resembles a small guitar and has the tuning of the upper strings (in pitch) of a guitar: D G B E

How to choose the best ukulele for yourself or your budding instrumentalist:

Hand size will play a big factor. Starting out with a soprano is great for little kids with small hands. The short fretboard and narrow frets will be easy for them to manage. The small body is also very comfortable for these little musicians. For the adolescent player, a concert or tenor ukulele might be a better fit. Boys especially might find the slightly larger size more comfortable and accommodating. It will allow for some growth of the hand size, so that they don’t grow out of the instrument and lose interest. The tenor also sounds closer to a guitar, so if they are thinking of moving to that instrument in the future it may be a good choice

For adults with guitar experience the bass size is by far the easiest to pick up and transition to. Most of the chord forms learned on guitar will translate directly over, without the need to transpose or learn other chord shapes. The drawback, however, is that you are not getting the classic sound of a ukulele. With this size you are almost getting a small, more portable guitar.

The length of the fingerboard also affects what higher pitch chords you can play.

Personal preference will ultimately be the deciding factor of what ukulele to buy. Best to keep in mind what the overall goals are of the person, big or small, who will be playing it.

Chord forms on Ukulele vs. Guitar

In general most chords are easy to play on ukulele, most of them can be played in the first position without much movement higher on the neck.

Some of the forms are identical to chords on the guitar, but resulting in a chord a fourth/ fifth away from the guitar version. For example the way to play a D chord on guitar is the same as the G chord on ukulele.

Based on the tuning of the ukulele, certain chords are really easy and sound great with open strings, while others such as an E major require a little more practice to master.

On guitar the E major chord is one of the first usually learned in the first/ open position and it’s fingering forms the basis of bar chords that cover 6 strings on guitar.

In fact, many rock and blues songs are in keys like E, A and D major. I have always thought it is likely due to the fact that these chords sound great on guitar, resulting in a nice full sound. If you talk to other instrumentalists, it is not so easy to play in these keys. Especially if you need to transpose for a brass instrument such as a saxophone.

The tuning of a ukulele makes it a great fit for songs in the key of C or E minor. One thing to keep in mind is that a song key can be quickly changed by adding a capo to the necessary fret of the ukulele, to play songs in the required key. Capos are an inexpensive and useful accessory to have that can be used on guitars as well.

I hope this article has been of some assistance in your search for a great ukulele for yourself or a loved one. Be sure to visit the blog on InstrumentShed.com for information of the importance of music for children, and to view our selection of ukuleles and accessories.

Source: https://instrumentshed.com/blogs/blog/the-different-kinds-of-ukulele-and-buying-guide

[matthewebel]

Booking Convention Concerts (And Not Pissing Off The Staff)

I’ve played fandom convention shows exclusively for the past decade. They’re fun, laid-back, and some of the best parties I’ve ever been a party to. I’ve learned, however, that the planning and execution has to be handled as thoroughly as any other concert. From the booking process to signing autographs after the show, preparation and professionalism will make everyone’s lives easier (read: will get you invited back for next year’s convention). Here’s what I’ve learned in ten years of touring:

In General

Convention staffers are largely volunteers.

“Director of Programming/Events/Music/Dances/Etc.” may sound like an impressive title, but chances are it’s a software engineer who spends her after-hours time making a convention happen instead of playing video games. They do this for the love of the fandom. Treat them like you’re asking for a resource more scarce than gold: their time.

Don’t be a diva.

I mean, this is true whether you’re playing the Grand Ole Opry, a coffee house, or SDCC. We need a healthy amount of ego to survive as performers, but the real professionals are polite, patient, and accommodating with the folks working to make their show better.

To quote Wilm Pierson, VP at Complete Production Systems, Inc.:

It is good not to forget that the stagehands, designers and directors are artists and craftsman as well and want to make the show amazing, so be kind.

Booking

Email early, email often.

Sometimes it seems like convention programming is all thrown together a week before the event. It’s not. Even if I’ve played a convention several times, I ask my contact (usually the Director of Programming) when the best time to reach out for next year’s con will be. Some of them start work a week after the con ends, some begin the process at the six-month mark. No matter what, asking what’s convenient for someone else shows that you care about their sanity.

Be ready to explain your act in 1-3 sentences.

I know, you’ve got a story to tell. You’re amazing in so many ways. So’s every other act vying for limited stage time. Condense your pitch down to a line or two and you’re more likely to get a response. Then back it up with properly made booking materials.

Properly Made Booking Materials

The One-Sheet

A must-have for any booking process is the one-sheet. It’s your resumé/CV as a performer. This gives the programming lead a single page to peruse and pass around to their staff. The essential ingredients are:

A clear, professionally-shot photo, preferably from a live show.

Your act name. (Dear God, I wish I didn’t have to mention this, but I do.)

What you do. Say it in a few words or less. “House/Trance DJ,” “Punk Rock Trio,” “Mos Eisley Belly Dance Troupe,” whatever.

One-column bio. I’m not going to re-hash the bio-writing basics, you can find those all over the indie-musician websites.

Links. Your website and social profiles. Chances are good the convention’s PR staff will copy/paste these links to their website and programming materials.

Your demos. You should have at least a one-song studio demo posted and downloadable online. You’re better off with live concert video and audio so the programming staff can see and hear exactly what you do. Film a live performance in your garage if you have to.

Link to your tech rider. More on the tech rider shortly.

Booking contact info. Put the actual legal name of your act’s booking contact (most likely you if you’re reading this) in the footer along with an email address and phone number. Get a Google Voice number if you’re shy about handing out your info, just make sure you can be texted/called on-site during the convention.

Venues you’ve played previously. (Optional, but recommended.) If you’re a new act, obviously this one’s gonna be tough. But if you’ve played some big shows– even two or three of them –it’s a good idea to list them on the one-sheet.

The Tech Rider

A “rider”is typically something attached to a larger contract, but in this sense it’s simply your technical info. Remember: in order to put you on stage, someone has to plug all your stuff into electricity and audio. “I’m just a solo singer/songwriter” doesn’t cut it. That could mean anything from simple acoustic guitar/vocal to a complicated looping pedal and backing track setup with a mess of inputs and power requirements.

Be very specific about your on-stage needs, and don’t fucking change them. Convention programming has to incorporate setup and teardown into their scheduling. Your set may only be 60 minutes, but if your setup jumps from 15 minutes to 30 because you added a guitarist the day before your show, you’re not making any friends.

Also, “I played this show last year so they know my setup” doesn’t cut it either. Convention staff fluctuates. They also work with lots of acts besides yours, possibly at multiple conventions. Even if you handed them the same tech rider last year, give them the tech rider this year too.

I keep my tech rider as simple as possible. Simple = less headache for the A/V crew = better chances of being invited back. The most important parts are the Stage Plot and Channel List.

Stage Plot(s)

A clear drawing of what the stage will look like during your act. This lets the A/V crew spring into action with minimal on-stage confusion during setup. You might have a few options (as I do) for large, medium, and small stages. Give them all to the A/V crew and let them decide what will work for the real estate they’ve got. The important parts are:

Where everyone will stand on stage

Where your equipment (amps, keyboards, drums, props, tables, stands) will sit

Where the house’s equipment (if any) will sit– things like mic stands, amps, monitors, etc.

Where you need power (how many outlets and, if possible, what kind of current your gear draws)

Where you need audio (and make sure you specify XLR, TRS, phono, etc., even if it’s also covered in your channel list)

Remember that not all stages are the same size. If you need to be exactly ten feet away from your bassist, put it in writing but be ready to adjust your setup if the stage is small.

Channel List

Your exact, unchanging input/output needs. I cannot stress how important this is. The A/V crew has no idea whether you want to mic an amp or go direct. They may have different drum mic capabilities than your garage setup. Again, it’s not a bad idea to have several options for various A/V setups; I’ve played shows with 64-channel digital mixers and 4-channel amp heads. Be prepared for the full gamut of house gear.

For each of your input/output options, be sure to list the following:

What type of physical connection (XLR Male, 1/4″ TRS, RCA stereo, etc.)

Mono or Stereo

A brief description of the input/output type (i.e. “Lead vocal mic”, “Backing tracks line out”, “In-ear monitor feed from house”)

I run all my on-stage outputs through my own mixer and feed the house an 8-channel XLR snake. This tends to make A/V crews very happy since it’s predictable and all the hookups are in one spot.

Also, like I said before, don’t fucking change your input/output scheme after you’ve been booked. It’s really not cool.

Other Requirements

Your estimated setup/strike times will help programming work you into the schedule flow, but you must be flexible. And the shorter the time requirements, the better. You want to be treated like a professional? Act like one. Run setup and strike drills on your own time in your own rehearsal space. Figure out what gear and steps you can eliminate to make the process faster. Be ready to delegate tasks to volunteers (i.e. “coil those cables” or “unplug everything from that amp and take it backstage”).

Your goal is to make your setup and strike processes look like a NASCAR pit crew in action.

The tech rider is where you can easily rule yourself out as a performing guest. Yeah, a green room stocked with beer and caviar might be nice, but you’re not going to get it. At conventions, chances are good you won’t even get a green room at all. Keep your requirements to the bare-ass minimum– it’s better for you in the long run anyway.

Programming Info

Aside from your show, you can probably lead or participate in panels and events. Offer up a menu of options for the programming staff with short descriptions they can drop directly into their con books. Most cons need good programming, and leading a few panels helps raise your visibility with the attendees. I typically host a three-part series on turning your art into a business, something a LOT of attendees appreciate.

You should also have multiple lengths of bio available: The feature-length bio for the convention’s website or con book, the paragraph-length bio for blog posts and panel info, and a tweet-length bio for social media posts and the mini-schedule.

At The Convention

So you’ve gotten the gig, you’re checked into the hotel, and you’ve washed the airplane funk from your body. Now what?

Survey the Battlefield

Get to know the convention space early. An unfamiliar hotel can feel like a rabbit warren, which is the last thing you want to be stuck in when you’re late for your own show. Figure out where attendee-only areas are and always keep your badge displayed. Look at ingress/egress options before the place gets crowded– can you avoid elevator lines by taking the stairs? One year at FWA I descended 18 flights of stairs because the hotel’s elevators were slammed and I had a panel to lead in ten minutes.

I also like to survey the venue I’ll be performing in before things get busy. Check out the stage size, the lighting, access to the backstage area, possible merch table locations, etc. Go shake hands with the A/V crew and thank them in advance for their work. Remember: your show is in their hands. Keep them happy. I typically will chat with them for five or ten minutes while they’re setting up, then GTFO so they can do their jobs.

Confirm Your Timing With A/V

Programming may have worked you into specific time slots, but in the end it’s the A/V crew who control your destiny. Find a time when they’re not too busy (late morning to early afternoon is typical) and go over your schedule timing with them.

In some cases, they may prefer a setup/sound check time that’s hours before your actual show. Take this opportunity. If the convention’s running a digital sound board and lighting controller, they can dial in your mix and monitor levels while everyone else is still getting breakfast and just recall the settings later. You might even be able to leave your gear setup on stage or ready-to-deploy backstage, saving steps when it’s go time.

That being said, remember that the A/V crew needs sleep and food just like everyone else. If there’s late-night programming like dances or movies, they may have been working until 5 A.M. The fact that they’re not back at the mixing board by 9 A.M. doesn’t mean they’re lazy. If half the crew vanishes during your setup time, they may be emptying their bladders and stuffing food into their faces for fifteen minutes before going back to work.

SHOW UP EARLY.

Show up early. No, seriously, catch the last half of the act before yours. Maybe the whole act. Something may have blown up, leaving you with half the available audio inputs. Your backstage gear may have been moved because it was blocking a stage egress point. You never know what you may need to unfuck at the last minute. Or, rarely, a miracle may have occurred and the preceding act may have ended early, allowing you to set up at a leisurely pace. You never know.

Most of all, appearing backstage 30 seconds before your call time stresses the stage manager the fuck out. Eat your dinner at 4pm like a baby boomer and get your ass to the stage long before your call time and you’ll have a happy crew ready to pour their hearts into making you look good.

And that’s why you show up early.

Show.

Up.

Early.

Don’t Expect Anything

As I said earlier, you probably won’t have a green room. Warm up in your hotel room before heading down to the stage. Be prepared to go on without a sound check if the preceding event runs 90 minutes past its time slot (I’m looking at YOU, every fursuit dance competition). Let the convention staff be apologetic and show them nothing but grace. Nothing ever goes according to plan; how you handle unexpected changes is how the staff will remember you. Treat them well and they’ll try to make your show better next year (and, most importantly, there will be a next year).

Originally posted at http://bit.ly/2x28zEa

[robertbjonesus80]

Buyer’s Guide: Best Acoustic Guitar Review in 2017

When it comes to buying an acoustic guitar, determining which is the “best” is hard to pin down. Any player—from beginners to seasoned artists—are going to prefer different qualities in their instrument. Small variations, like the feel of the frets or a slightly bright tone, can be the difference between falling in love with an acoustic guitar or looking elsewhere. With that said, there are some key qualities to look for if you’re in the market for a new axe.

Rating

Product

Our Rating

Price

Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

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2

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

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3

Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

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4

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

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5

Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

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What should you look for when buying a guitar?

Body Style

Body style is perhaps the first thing to consider when narrowing down your options. Different body styles produce different sound qualities. However, you need to find the body style that fits comfortably with your body. A six-foot guy who’s built like a linebacker and a petite woman with small hands will probably need guitars of different body styles. Body style is especially key if you’re buying an acoustic guitar for your kids: starting them on something too big may lead to early frustration.

The most common body styles are jumbo, dreadnought, auditorium, and concert (the latter two come in standard and “grand” varieties). There are are also “mini,” scaled-down guitars that work great for travel or as a learning guitar for kids.Though some guitarists prefer the sound of one body style over another, comfort and ease of play are more important to others.

Material

Beginner guitars are usually made of laminated wood. This wood won’t age or mature, so the sound you hear when the guitar is new won’t change much. That may work for some players, but others prefer hardwood or “solid” top guitars. Solid tops yield a deeper, more complex sound that changes over time

Some acoustic guitars feature solid tops with synthetic sides and neck. Others are made entirely of wood. The type of wood an acoustic guitar is made from may yield different sound qualities or work better for different styles of playing. For instance, spruce is resilient and stands up to hard strumming. Rosewood is rare and highly prized for the rich tone it lends to a guitar’s sound. 

You might also choose an acoustic guitar made of all synthetic material like fiberglass or graphite. These materials aren’t as susceptible to the weather, so might be the best option if you do a lot of outdoor gigs. I once played an all-wood guitar for an outdoor concert when it was 40 degrees and raining; she was never the same after that. On the other hand, the sound quality of synthetic guitars doesn’t improve with time.

Action

Regardless of the material of the acoustic guitar you buy, you should check out the action, or distance between the fingerboard and the strings. The first thing to check is how the guitar feels under your fingers. You should be able to press the strings to the fingerboard with no trouble. If you’re a beginner, you’ll eventually build up callouses to make this more comfortable.

Next, get eye-level with the neck of the guitar and find the 12th fret. A good general test is to look at the action down the length of the neck between the 12th and 5th frets. The distance between the fingerboard and strings should be consistent. If you want to get really nitty-gritty, you can use a ruler to confirm.

Any change in action might indicate a bowing of the neck or other structural issues. If you really love the guitar, you could see a luthier about getting this fixed. If you’re not enamored, it might be better to look for another instrument.

Sound and Intonation

Sound is incredibly subjective. Some guitarists love a big, booming bass. Others look for subtle, airy reverberation. The most important thing is that you like the sound your acoustic guitar makes.

However, every acoustic guitar should have proper intonation. An experienced player can check intonation by playing a chord and then comparing it to the same chord at the 14th fret. A method for beginners—which some pros prefer anyway—is to check the harmonics at the 12th fret. Pluck an open string. Then, place your finger lightly on the string at the 12th fret. Don’t press down all the way. Pluck the string again. The sound of the open string and the 12th fret harmonic should be exactly the same.

If you’re not sure you have the “ear” to test intonation, ask a friend who is an experienced musician to help you. It doesn’t matter if your friend plays the guitar or not; a practiced musician should be able to judge pitches on any instrument. If you need a little more guidance with checking intonation using harmonics, check out this quick video.

Rating

Product

Our Rating

Price

Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

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2

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

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3

Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

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4

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

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5

Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

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Five Best Acoustic Guitars

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

Newbie and experienced musicians alike love the Epiphone DR 100. This acoustic guitar features a mahogany neck, rosewood fingerboard, and resilient spruce top. There are three classic finishes to pick from: natural, ebony, or “vintage sunburst” if heavier varnishes are your style.

Experienced players have compared the balanced sound of the DR 100 to some all-wood guitars made by Epiphone. Even though the DR 100 is full-size, it is light, sturdy, and travels well. Parents who bought one for the kids confirm that this guitar may be a good match for clumsy new learners.

One consistent downside that people seem to notice is the sharp frets. A few people also reported that this Epiphone model needs frequent tuning. Furthermore, the tuning mechanisms of the guitar may not be able to hold up to this heavy use. There seem to be a lot of people online looking for repairs and replacements.

Pros

Guitar travels well and may be a good, sturdy option for kids or a backup guitar for gigs

Features an ambidextrous design, so it can be played by lefties or righties

Solid spruce top produces clear sound

Cons

Sharp frets may present a challenge for beginners who haven’t built up callouses

Needs frequent tuning to keep its solid sound

Tuning machines may wear out quickly and need replacing more than other guitars

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Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

I may have a personal soft spot for this one; it reminds me of the Fender dreadnought I learned to play on. Personal bias aside, the Fender FA-100 seems to be an all-around crowd-pleaser, especially amongst beginners. This acoustic guitar features a compensated bone saddle, which helps produce a clear tone from each string. Both beginning and experienced musicians also love the shiny finish which some say really glows under stage lights.

The top of the FA-100 is laminate spruce, not the pure hardwood. Some players found the sound a little flat as a result. Out of the box, this Fender also has fairly high action. This may not be a problem for people who know how to adjust a guitar’s action but may prove an obstacle for beginners.

Finally, some musicians reported that the guitar developed some buzzing and intonation problems. Again, this probably isn’t so bad if you know how to fix these issues as they arise. If you don’t, this might be a deal-breaker.

Pros

Features a compensated saddle made of real bone for clear sound from every string

Shiny finish might just get you some extra attention at gigs

Enjoyable acoustic guitar for beginners; solid back-up or beater for the more experienced

Cons

Laminate top produces a sound that may be too flat for experienced players

Action is a little high and may require more initial set-up than other models

Some buzzing and intonation problems reported

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Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

Another dreadnought, laminate spruce top acoustic guitar, the Jasmine S34C NEX is designed to have a clear, bright sound. The source of this sound is Jasmine’s unique forward-shifted X-bracing. Jasmine says that by placing the X-brace closer to the sound hole, the top of the guitar vibrates more freely and produces super sharp sound.

Customers seem to agree. Unlike the Fender, which seems to skew toward beginners, experienced players like the sound and easy action of the Jasmine S34C. The neck of this guitar is slightly thinner than average, making it easier to play for people with smaller hands. The neck wasn’t so thin, however, that it presented problems for others.

The biggest issue that some people seemed to have with the Jasmine S34C was the quality of the tuning pegs. Keeping the guitar in tune may be a challenge, and some customers reported the tuning pegs broke after a short period of time or were fitted improperly to begin with.

Besides the tuning pegs, you’ll also want to take care with the guitar’s finish. The body and headstock are both susceptible to chipping and dents. Finally, for those wanting to rock out right away, keep an extra pair of strings on hand when you buy your Jasmine. The included strings tend to break on the first tune. Some found them completely unplayable.

Pros

Bright sound produced by repositioned X-bracing

Slim neck is great for smaller hands but not too small for everyone else

Gets the seal of approval from experienced players

Cons

Some say it needs to be tuned between every song

Finish seems to be a little delicate and prone to scratches, so handle with care

Stock strings are poor quality–even for stock strings–and may need to be changed right away

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Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

The Yamaha FG800 has a solid spruce top. Its body is made from a combination of mahogany and nato woods. Yamaha 800 series guitars also feature unique scalloped bracing inside the body to improve sound quality without compromising the structural integrity of the guitar.

The FG800 is loved by beginners who find it easy to play. However, this is not only a beginner’s acoustic guitar. Experienced players like the depth of sound created by the solid spruce top, and the loud volume they can crank out of the relatively small dreadnought body style.

There’s not much that customers found amiss with this Yamaha. A few noticed a buzz on the lower strings early on, but a string change took care of the problem. A quick note for the uninitiated: the stock strings that come with a new acoustic guitar usually aren’t the best. Plan to change them out early.

Some guitarists also found the finish on the neck to be a little too thin and scratchy. Frequently play may or may not smooth it down. Sanding any part of a guitar is a delicate process; if you go that route, be sure you know what you’re doing or get someone who does to help. Finally, like many new guitars, the action on the Yamaha might be a little high for your preference at first and may require adjustment.

Pros

Solid spruce top yields nice sound that will mature as the guitar ages

Good volume achieved with Yamaha’s improved scalloped bracing

Mahogany and nato body; not the highest-quality woods, but not a bad choice for someone who wants an all-wood guitar

Cons

Possible buzzing early on that can be fixed with string change or action adjustment

Some report rough finishing on the neck; if you decide to sand it yourself, go in stages and be extra careful not to make the neck uneven

Action is high at first but adjusts relatively easily

Check Current Prices

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

The body and top of the Rogue RA-090 acoustic guitar are made from laminate whitewood. The fretboard is “imitation” rosewood, but that doesn’t seem to bother anyone once they hear how this guitar sounds. Rogue markets this as a starter guitar, but some advanced players say they have a hard time putting it down. With some simple set-up—namely, higher quality strings—the Rogue RA-090 produces sound that pleases everybody.

This Rogue model is also light, travels well, and makes a good gig guitar. Most customers are also pleasantly surprised at how nice the guitar looks. The natural and sunburst finishes are particularly popular.

As for some cons, there are some reported issues with the frets: chipping paint, sharpness, or rusting. Some players also have difficulty keeping the Rogue RA-090 in tune, particularly at first. If this is an issue, you might want to tune the guitar in increments, gradually stretching the strings before you attempt to play.

Finally, there are a lot of stories of guitars arriving cracked and banged up. This seems to be an issue with improper packing and shipping practices, not necessarily a problem with the guitar itself. If you buy an RA-090 and have it shipped to you, read the return policy and check the guitar for damage upon arrival.

Pros

Produces solid sound with some simple set-up

Light-weight and good for travel

Nice finishes that look good to beginners and experienced players

Cons

Some fret issues reported including sharpness and rusting

Possible shipping issues: check the guitar for cracks, holes, and other damage as soon as it arrives

Made entirely from laminate; even the rosewood fretboard is synthetic

Check Current Prices

Conclusion

From our lineup of solid choices, the acoustic guitar we think musicians would be happiest with is the Yamaha FG800.

The FG800 is a favorite both for beginners and experienced players, a versatile acoustic guitar that combines ease of play with big volume and complex sound. The laminate top guitars on this list–good options especially for beginners–can’t quite match the reverberation of the Yamaha’s solid spruce top.

Compared to the other solid top guitar on this list, the Epiphone DR 100, the Yamaha stands apart for its workmanship and quality. Some issues with frets and tuning were reported with the Epiphone, but Yamaha customers had few complaints about the guitar’s make and durability.

Like with any acoustic guitar you buy, you will have to set up the Yamaha FG800 to your preference by restringing or adjusting the action. True guitar enthusiasts won’t see this as a drawback, however. Rather, it’s an opportunity to get a unique sound and style from your instrument.

The post Buyer’s Guide: Best Acoustic Guitar Review in 2017 appeared first on Music Advisor.

from Music Advisor https://musicadvisor.com/2017/03/31/best-acoustic-guitar/ from Music Advisor https://musicadvisor.tumblr.com/post/159027625432

[musicadvisor]

Buyer’s Guide: Best Acoustic Guitar Review in 2017

When it comes to buying an acoustic guitar, determining which is the “best” is hard to pin down. Any player—from beginners to seasoned artists—are going to prefer different qualities in their instrument. Small variations, like the feel of the frets or a slightly bright tone, can be the difference between falling in love with an acoustic guitar or looking elsewhere. With that said, there are some key qualities to look for if you’re in the market for a new axe.

Rating

Product

Our Rating

Price

Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

2

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

3

Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

4

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

5

Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

What should you look for when buying a guitar?

Body Style

Body style is perhaps the first thing to consider when narrowing down your options. Different body styles produce different sound qualities. However, you need to find the body style that fits comfortably with your body. A six-foot guy who’s built like a linebacker and a petite woman with small hands will probably need guitars of different body styles. Body style is especially key if you’re buying an acoustic guitar for your kids: starting them on something too big may lead to early frustration.

The most common body styles are jumbo, dreadnought, auditorium, and concert (the latter two come in standard and “grand” varieties). There are are also “mini,” scaled-down guitars that work great for travel or as a learning guitar for kids.Though some guitarists prefer the sound of one body style over another, comfort and ease of play are more important to others.

Material

Beginner guitars are usually made of laminated wood. This wood won’t age or mature, so the sound you hear when the guitar is new won't change much. That may work for some players, but others prefer hardwood or "solid" top guitars. Solid tops yield a deeper, more complex sound that changes over time

Some acoustic guitars feature solid tops with synthetic sides and neck. Others are made entirely of wood. The type of wood an acoustic guitar is made from may yield different sound qualities or work better for different styles of playing. For instance, spruce is resilient and stands up to hard strumming. Rosewood is rare and highly prized for the rich tone it lends to a guitar’s sound. 

You might also choose an acoustic guitar made of all synthetic material like fiberglass or graphite. These materials aren’t as susceptible to the weather, so might be the best option if you do a lot of outdoor gigs. I once played an all-wood guitar for an outdoor concert when it was 40 degrees and raining; she was never the same after that. On the other hand, the sound quality of synthetic guitars doesn’t improve with time.

Action

Regardless of the material of the acoustic guitar you buy, you should check out the action, or distance between the fingerboard and the strings. The first thing to check is how the guitar feels under your fingers. You should be able to press the strings to the fingerboard with no trouble. If you’re a beginner, you’ll eventually build up callouses to make this more comfortable.

Next, get eye-level with the neck of the guitar and find the 12th fret. A good general test is to look at the action down the length of the neck between the 12th and 5th frets. The distance between the fingerboard and strings should be consistent. If you want to get really nitty-gritty, you can use a ruler to confirm.

Any change in action might indicate a bowing of the neck or other structural issues. If you really love the guitar, you could see a luthier about getting this fixed. If you’re not enamored, it might be better to look for another instrument.

Sound and Intonation

Sound is incredibly subjective. Some guitarists love a big, booming bass. Others look for subtle, airy reverberation. The most important thing is that you like the sound your acoustic guitar makes.

However, every acoustic guitar should have proper intonation. An experienced player can check intonation by playing a chord and then comparing it to the same chord at the 14th fret. A method for beginners—which some pros prefer anyway—is to check the harmonics at the 12th fret. Pluck an open string. Then, place your finger lightly on the string at the 12th fret. Don’t press down all the way. Pluck the string again. The sound of the open string and the 12th fret harmonic should be exactly the same.

If you’re not sure you have the “ear” to test intonation, ask a friend who is an experienced musician to help you. It doesn’t matter if your friend plays the guitar or not; a practiced musician should be able to judge pitches on any instrument. If you need a little more guidance with checking intonation using harmonics, check out this quick video.

Rating

Product

Our Rating

Price

Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

2

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

3

Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

4

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

5

Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

Check Prices

Five Best Acoustic Guitars

Epiphone DR 100 Acoustic Guitar

Newbie and experienced musicians alike love the Epiphone DR 100. This acoustic guitar features a mahogany neck, rosewood fingerboard, and resilient spruce top. There are three classic finishes to pick from: natural, ebony, or “vintage sunburst” if heavier varnishes are your style.

Experienced players have compared the balanced sound of the DR 100 to some all-wood guitars made by Epiphone. Even though the DR 100 is full-size, it is light, sturdy, and travels well. Parents who bought one for the kids confirm that this guitar may be a good match for clumsy new learners.

One consistent downside that people seem to notice is the sharp frets. A few people also reported that this Epiphone model needs frequent tuning. Furthermore, the tuning mechanisms of the guitar may not be able to hold up to this heavy use. There seem to be a lot of people online looking for repairs and replacements.

Pros

Guitar travels well and may be a good, sturdy option for kids or a backup guitar for gigs

Features an ambidextrous design, so it can be played by lefties or righties

Solid spruce top produces clear sound

Cons

Sharp frets may present a challenge for beginners who haven’t built up callouses

Needs frequent tuning to keep its solid sound

Tuning machines may wear out quickly and need replacing more than other guitars

Check Current Prices

Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

I may have a personal soft spot for this one; it reminds me of the Fender dreadnought I learned to play on. Personal bias aside, the Fender FA-100 seems to be an all-around crowd-pleaser, especially amongst beginners. This acoustic guitar features a compensated bone saddle, which helps produce a clear tone from each string. Both beginning and experienced musicians also love the shiny finish which some say really glows under stage lights.

The top of the FA-100 is laminate spruce, not the pure hardwood. Some players found the sound a little flat as a result. Out of the box, this Fender also has fairly high action. This may not be a problem for people who know how to adjust a guitar’s action but may prove an obstacle for beginners.

Finally, some musicians reported that the guitar developed some buzzing and intonation problems. Again, this probably isn’t so bad if you know how to fix these issues as they arise. If you don't, this might be a deal-breaker.

Pros

Features a compensated saddle made of real bone for clear sound from every string

Shiny finish might just get you some extra attention at gigs

Enjoyable acoustic guitar for beginners; solid back-up or beater for the more experienced

Cons

Laminate top produces a sound that may be too flat for experienced players

Action is a little high and may require more initial set-up than other models

Some buzzing and intonation problems reported

Check Current Prices

Jasmine S34C NEX Acoustic Guitar

Another dreadnought, laminate spruce top acoustic guitar, the Jasmine S34C NEX is designed to have a clear, bright sound. The source of this sound is Jasmine’s unique forward-shifted X-bracing. Jasmine says that by placing the X-brace closer to the sound hole, the top of the guitar vibrates more freely and produces super sharp sound.

Customers seem to agree. Unlike the Fender, which seems to skew toward beginners, experienced players like the sound and easy action of the Jasmine S34C. The neck of this guitar is slightly thinner than average, making it easier to play for people with smaller hands. The neck wasn't so thin, however, that it presented problems for others.

The biggest issue that some people seemed to have with the Jasmine S34C was the quality of the tuning pegs. Keeping the guitar in tune may be a challenge, and some customers reported the tuning pegs broke after a short period of time or were fitted improperly to begin with.

Besides the tuning pegs, you’ll also want to take care with the guitar’s finish. The body and headstock are both susceptible to chipping and dents. Finally, for those wanting to rock out right away, keep an extra pair of strings on hand when you buy your Jasmine. The included strings tend to break on the first tune. Some found them completely unplayable.

Pros

Bright sound produced by repositioned X-bracing

Slim neck is great for smaller hands but not too small for everyone else

Gets the seal of approval from experienced players

Cons

Some say it needs to be tuned between every song

Finish seems to be a little delicate and prone to scratches, so handle with care

Stock strings are poor quality--even for stock strings--and may need to be changed right away

Check Current Prices

Yamaha FG800 Solid Top Acoustic Guitar

The Yamaha FG800 has a solid spruce top. Its body is made from a combination of mahogany and nato woods. Yamaha 800 series guitars also feature unique scalloped bracing inside the body to improve sound quality without compromising the structural integrity of the guitar.

The FG800 is loved by beginners who find it easy to play. However, this is not only a beginner’s acoustic guitar. Experienced players like the depth of sound created by the solid spruce top, and the loud volume they can crank out of the relatively small dreadnought body style.

There’s not much that customers found amiss with this Yamaha. A few noticed a buzz on the lower strings early on, but a string change took care of the problem. A quick note for the uninitiated: the stock strings that come with a new acoustic guitar usually aren’t the best. Plan to change them out early.

Some guitarists also found the finish on the neck to be a little too thin and scratchy. Frequently play may or may not smooth it down. Sanding any part of a guitar is a delicate process; if you go that route, be sure you know what you're doing or get someone who does to help. Finally, like many new guitars, the action on the Yamaha might be a little high for your preference at first and may require adjustment.

Pros

Solid spruce top yields nice sound that will mature as the guitar ages

Good volume achieved with Yamaha’s improved scalloped bracing

Mahogany and nato body; not the highest-quality woods, but not a bad choice for someone who wants an all-wood guitar

Cons

Possible buzzing early on that can be fixed with string change or action adjustment

Some report rough finishing on the neck; if you decide to sand it yourself, go in stages and be extra careful not to make the neck uneven

Action is high at first but adjusts relatively easily

Check Current Prices

Rogue RA-090 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar

The body and top of the Rogue RA-090 acoustic guitar are made from laminate whitewood. The fretboard is “imitation” rosewood, but that doesn’t seem to bother anyone once they hear how this guitar sounds. Rogue markets this as a starter guitar, but some advanced players say they have a hard time putting it down. With some simple set-up—namely, higher quality strings—the Rogue RA-090 produces sound that pleases everybody.

This Rogue model is also light, travels well, and makes a good gig guitar. Most customers are also pleasantly surprised at how nice the guitar looks. The natural and sunburst finishes are particularly popular.

As for some cons, there are some reported issues with the frets: chipping paint, sharpness, or rusting. Some players also have difficulty keeping the Rogue RA-090 in tune, particularly at first. If this is an issue, you might want to tune the guitar in increments, gradually stretching the strings before you attempt to play.

Finally, there are a lot of stories of guitars arriving cracked and banged up. This seems to be an issue with improper packing and shipping practices, not necessarily a problem with the guitar itself. If you buy an RA-090 and have it shipped to you, read the return policy and check the guitar for damage upon arrival.

Pros

Produces solid sound with some simple set-up

Light-weight and good for travel

Nice finishes that look good to beginners and experienced players

Cons

Some fret issues reported including sharpness and rusting

Possible shipping issues: check the guitar for cracks, holes, and other damage as soon as it arrives

Made entirely from laminate; even the rosewood fretboard is synthetic

Check Current Prices

Conclusion

From our lineup of solid choices, the acoustic guitar we think musicians would be happiest with is the Yamaha FG800.

The FG800 is a favorite both for beginners and experienced players, a versatile acoustic guitar that combines ease of play with big volume and complex sound. The laminate top guitars on this list--good options especially for beginners--can't quite match the reverberation of the Yamaha's solid spruce top.

Compared to the other solid top guitar on this list, the Epiphone DR 100, the Yamaha stands apart for its workmanship and quality. Some issues with frets and tuning were reported with the Epiphone, but Yamaha customers had few complaints about the guitar's make and durability.

Like with any acoustic guitar you buy, you will have to set up the Yamaha FG800 to your preference by restringing or adjusting the action. True guitar enthusiasts won't see this as a drawback, however. Rather, it's an opportunity to get a unique sound and style from your instrument.

The post Buyer’s Guide: Best Acoustic Guitar Review in 2017 appeared first on Music Advisor.

from Music Advisor https://musicadvisor.com/2017/03/31/best-acoustic-guitar/

[yes-dal456]

Can I Blame My Mental Illness For My Lousy Behavior?

Content Notice: eating disorder

Seven-and-a-half years ago, on the night of my 35th birthday, I told my husband that I wanted a divorce.

It was 2 AM. Maybe we’d been arguing, I can’t remember. I can’t remember a lot from that period, except the embarrassment. I remember the embarrassment with incredible accuracy.

Earlier that evening, we’d gone to dinner with my grandparents to a local Italian place. I can’t remember the name of the place; it’s not there anymore. It was replaced first by a Japanese place that served sushi that was only barely decent. Then by a Chinese place. Then a place that served Pho. Now I think it’s a Mexican food place.

I had Carbonara, which I also remember. It was surprisingly good for a place that would be out of business in 6 months. We had a bottle of red wine, probably Cabernet. I didn’t love wine yet, but I drank it because it seemed like the grown-up adult thing to do when you’re 35.

We went home and put the kids to bed; they were 14, 11 and nine then.

And at 2 AM, when he asked what was wrong with me, I told him I wanted a divorce.

He asked me to reconsider, pleaded the way only someone who has known you 20 years, who has seen you through every awful thing that has happened to you since you were 14, can.

I didn’t reconsider.

I feel the deepest level of shame, shame to my very core, that I walked away from my children. That 2 AM seemed like a good time to leave my kids and the only family they’d even known, to create a new family that they never asked for. I have bipolar disorder. And this is what unmedicated mental illness looks like for me.

The next day, we sent the kids to school and decided how to tell them. Maybe it was me who thought it would be a good idea to take them to pizza after telling them their lives were about to be ripped apart. Another poor choice in a long list of poor choices.

He told me if I wanted to split up our family, I’d have to leave. So I left.

I left my children there, the people I made in my body. The people who meant more to me than anything, I left at home.

Before I left, my 14-year-old gave me something she’d made with Perler beads, a little boy playing soccer. I kept him in the bag I took when I left, right up until last week.

When I took the figure out of the overnight bag, the black one with cherries on it, that I still use and still hate, I broke his foot off, and I cried. The foot can probably be ironed back on, but that’s not the point.

The point is, I broke him, and them.   

In the year before I left my family, I left myself.

My body wasted, worn down and broken from an eating disorder I denied. I stocked and stashed laxatives around the house. I ran until I fractured my leg and then ran on it still, even though it was excruciating until I broke it all the way.

And even then, I went to the gym and spent an hour a day on the elliptical on the broken leg. The elliptical is a low impact machine, or that’s what I told myself. In my broken brain, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable alternative to running on the road.

I lost ⅔ of my body weight in six months.

I bought handbags costly enough to feed a small nation, a drawer full of yoga pants from Lululemon, running shorts, dozens of new bras, thousands of dollars of new clothes. Every pound I lost deserved a reward, and I gave them to myself.

Despite barely hanging on to our ballooned mortgage, I shopped. At J. Crew, Gap, Macy’s. Nowhere too expensive. I must have figured no one would notice. Until the debt piled up and refused to be hidden.

The day after I told my husband I wanted a divorce, I packed my bag with my Perler-bead boy, two pairs of overpriced Lulu shorts, two sports bras, underwear, two sundresses, two bras with matching panties that I’d bought the week before, and my toothbrush. I went to my grandparent’s house.

I went there — I guess because it was the closest place, three blocks from my house, in a tiny town where everyone lives no more than a few miles away from each other. My grandmother gave me a room with a giant bed covered in an equally giant comforter which was in turn covered with roses. That night I drove around, with regret, but also a bizarre mix of conviction and pride, sure I’d made the right choice.

One day after that, I left my grandparents’ house to visit my sister three hours away. Fourteen years younger than me, she was in college at the time, pursuing the degree I never got, but she was away for the weekend. Instead of waiting for her, I bypassed the campus and drove to the Bay Area where I met my (now) husband.

We spent two nights and days together.

I’ve never written this. I’ve scarcely repeated this story to anyone outside a very tight-knit circle.

I am ashamed.

I’m not ashamed about the love I feel for my husband and the two babies we went on to make. I’m not embarrassed by the strength and struggle of what most would call a rebound marriage and the blended family, both beautiful and disastrous, that goes with it.

I feel the deepest level of shame, shame to my very core, that I walked away from my children. That 2 AM seemed like a good time to leave my kids and the only family they’d even known, to create a new family that they never asked for.

I have bipolar disorder. And this is what unmedicated mental illness looks like for me.

When the fog of a long season of depression lifts, and the manic energy arrives, bringing with it a bunch of irrational decisions, it’s easy to flush your meds — which is exactly what I did — right down the 50-year-old pink toilet, in the first house I ever owned.

I quite literally flushed all my meds because exercise and diet had restored my sanity. Or at least fooled me into thinking my sanity had been restored.

And with that “cure” came insurmountable debt, an eating disorder that leached the calcium from my bones, a delinquent mortgage, and a black overnight bag with cherries on it, filled with two days of clothes, a toothbrush, and a tiny beaded figure that my 14-year-old thought would give me comfort while I was gone.

My grandmother came into the spare bathroom situated across from the spare bedroom I was sleeping, but not really ever sleeping in, without knocking. The sight of my wasted body, the protruding collar bones, the sagging skin, must have alarmed her.

I was too busy thinking about the 10 more pounds I needed to lose to notice or acknowledge her reaction or when she said she was going to the kitchen to make me the mashed potatoes and gravy I’d take two bites of and then rinse into the sink.

When I came back from the Bay Area and the two days that I had sought to make me forget the mess I had left, I borrowed $1,200 from my grandparents and rented a tiny two-bedroom apartment.

In that apartment, I’d make spaghetti for my kids, and we’d eat it off of a wicker patio table that had, the week before, been next to my grandmother’s pool. They would go to sleep on small twin-size air mattresses I bought at Target. I would lay awake on the queen size version. Because I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and also because mania robs you of sleep, making you believe two hours is sufficient.

I had only a few things my ex let me have, a few things that I had charged on a credit card that wasn’t entirely maxed out, a fluffy floral sofa and a patio table that my grandmother gave me. And my mania and my shame.

I listened to the song “Lucky” on repeat, singing along, crying and learning the chords so I could play it on the acoustic guitar my dad had given me on the birthday I celebrated before I left everything behind for a new life.

I was so lucky to have a new life and a new person to love, who loved me.

And I was on a manic cloud that made it all seem so perfectly idyllic.

That’s what mania did to me.

But I can’t blame it. Not because it wasn’t there, but because that’s a bullshit excuse. I wish I could say that every mistake I’ve made, every lousy decision, is all a manifestation of my faulty brain chemistry.

But the truth is, even if it was the mania, I still have to sleep with the image of my kids crying over pizza the night I told them that I’d never share that house, the first one we’d bought, scrimped and saved for, again.

Four years after the wicker patio table and that hideous sofa, I saw the psychiatrist who would finally officially diagnose me over a bag of Sunchips and a Starbucks latte. The man that would medicate me, adjusting formulations over and over, until a year after that, I was at last, after 20 years, stable.

I haven’t had a single suicidal thought in nine months. I haven’t had a manic episode in much longer than that. I can’t remember a lot of words or phone numbers and addresses I had memorized for 20 years — because that’s what Lamictal does while it keeps me from buying useless shit instead of paying my mortgage.

My mouth is dry, and I gained 15 pounds — because that’s what Zoloft does while it keeps my OCD and eating disorder at an arm’s distance and my depression suffocated.

For a while, I was on one medication that made me fall asleep sitting up. I can’t remember what it’s called because I was asleep, and also because of Lamictal stealing my words.

But I take them every day, eight of them, along with a colorful handful of supplemental horse pills that I hope do something to counteract what the pharmaceuticals are doing to my liver. Every morning with breakfast, over coffee with the man I adore. Every night at the bathroom sink, right before I shea butter my hands and spoon to sleep with that same guy.

And I sleep. Mostly restful. At least five hours usually, always striving for seven. Our two littles sneak into our king-size bed and kick me in the face. Sometimes I end up on the bottom 5 percent of that giant mattress. And it makes me angry because no one likes to get kicked in the face by a six-year-old, but then I wake up, and I love them even more than the day before.

I am still ashamed. But despite that, or in spite of that, my life is beautiful.

I have all I need and most of what I want. When I can’t sleep, I can write at 1 AM, and in the morning I will have coffee that is made just how I like it, by a man who is my match, paired with my pharmacy of meds, and probably two fried eggs that we collected from our backyard hens the day before.

My big kids, two of whom are adults now, are fantastic. The two kids Matt and I made, that united our family around a common love, are people I can’t imagine living without. My life is as perfect as I could ever ask for or deserve.

And the Perler bead soccer guy is on my dresser. A reminder of why I swallow a dozen pills every day.

This article first appeared on ravishly.com. Read more from Joni here.

Also at ravishly:

Why Do You Hate Your Body?

13 Things My 4-Year-Old Needs To Discuss at 4 A.M.

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[imreviewblog]

Can I Blame My Mental Illness For My Lousy Behavior?

Content Notice: eating disorder

Seven-and-a-half years ago, on the night of my 35th birthday, I told my husband that I wanted a divorce.

It was 2 AM. Maybe we’d been arguing, I can’t remember. I can’t remember a lot from that period, except the embarrassment. I remember the embarrassment with incredible accuracy.

Earlier that evening, we’d gone to dinner with my grandparents to a local Italian place. I can’t remember the name of the place; it’s not there anymore. It was replaced first by a Japanese place that served sushi that was only barely decent. Then by a Chinese place. Then a place that served Pho. Now I think it’s a Mexican food place.

I had Carbonara, which I also remember. It was surprisingly good for a place that would be out of business in 6 months. We had a bottle of red wine, probably Cabernet. I didn’t love wine yet, but I drank it because it seemed like the grown-up adult thing to do when you’re 35.

We went home and put the kids to bed; they were 14, 11 and nine then.

And at 2 AM, when he asked what was wrong with me, I told him I wanted a divorce.

He asked me to reconsider, pleaded the way only someone who has known you 20 years, who has seen you through every awful thing that has happened to you since you were 14, can.

I didn’t reconsider.

I feel the deepest level of shame, shame to my very core, that I walked away from my children. That 2 AM seemed like a good time to leave my kids and the only family they’d even known, to create a new family that they never asked for. I have bipolar disorder. And this is what unmedicated mental illness looks like for me.

The next day, we sent the kids to school and decided how to tell them. Maybe it was me who thought it would be a good idea to take them to pizza after telling them their lives were about to be ripped apart. Another poor choice in a long list of poor choices.

He told me if I wanted to split up our family, I’d have to leave. So I left.

I left my children there, the people I made in my body. The people who meant more to me than anything, I left at home.

Before I left, my 14-year-old gave me something she’d made with Perler beads, a little boy playing soccer. I kept him in the bag I took when I left, right up until last week.

When I took the figure out of the overnight bag, the black one with cherries on it, that I still use and still hate, I broke his foot off, and I cried. The foot can probably be ironed back on, but that’s not the point.

The point is, I broke him, and them.   

In the year before I left my family, I left myself.

My body wasted, worn down and broken from an eating disorder I denied. I stocked and stashed laxatives around the house. I ran until I fractured my leg and then ran on it still, even though it was excruciating until I broke it all the way.

And even then, I went to the gym and spent an hour a day on the elliptical on the broken leg. The elliptical is a low impact machine, or that’s what I told myself. In my broken brain, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable alternative to running on the road.

I lost ⅔ of my body weight in six months.

I bought handbags costly enough to feed a small nation, a drawer full of yoga pants from Lululemon, running shorts, dozens of new bras, thousands of dollars of new clothes. Every pound I lost deserved a reward, and I gave them to myself.

Despite barely hanging on to our ballooned mortgage, I shopped. At J. Crew, Gap, Macy’s. Nowhere too expensive. I must have figured no one would notice. Until the debt piled up and refused to be hidden.

The day after I told my husband I wanted a divorce, I packed my bag with my Perler-bead boy, two pairs of overpriced Lulu shorts, two sports bras, underwear, two sundresses, two bras with matching panties that I’d bought the week before, and my toothbrush. I went to my grandparent’s house.

I went there — I guess because it was the closest place, three blocks from my house, in a tiny town where everyone lives no more than a few miles away from each other. My grandmother gave me a room with a giant bed covered in an equally giant comforter which was in turn covered with roses. That night I drove around, with regret, but also a bizarre mix of conviction and pride, sure I’d made the right choice.

One day after that, I left my grandparents’ house to visit my sister three hours away. Fourteen years younger than me, she was in college at the time, pursuing the degree I never got, but she was away for the weekend. Instead of waiting for her, I bypassed the campus and drove to the Bay Area where I met my (now) husband.

We spent two nights and days together.

I’ve never written this. I’ve scarcely repeated this story to anyone outside a very tight-knit circle.

I am ashamed.

I’m not ashamed about the love I feel for my husband and the two babies we went on to make. I’m not embarrassed by the strength and struggle of what most would call a rebound marriage and the blended family, both beautiful and disastrous, that goes with it.

I feel the deepest level of shame, shame to my very core, that I walked away from my children. That 2 AM seemed like a good time to leave my kids and the only family they’d even known, to create a new family that they never asked for.

I have bipolar disorder. And this is what unmedicated mental illness looks like for me.

When the fog of a long season of depression lifts, and the manic energy arrives, bringing with it a bunch of irrational decisions, it’s easy to flush your meds — which is exactly what I did — right down the 50-year-old pink toilet, in the first house I ever owned.

I quite literally flushed all my meds because exercise and diet had restored my sanity. Or at least fooled me into thinking my sanity had been restored.

And with that “cure” came insurmountable debt, an eating disorder that leached the calcium from my bones, a delinquent mortgage, and a black overnight bag with cherries on it, filled with two days of clothes, a toothbrush, and a tiny beaded figure that my 14-year-old thought would give me comfort while I was gone.

My grandmother came into the spare bathroom situated across from the spare bedroom I was sleeping, but not really ever sleeping in, without knocking. The sight of my wasted body, the protruding collar bones, the sagging skin, must have alarmed her.

I was too busy thinking about the 10 more pounds I needed to lose to notice or acknowledge her reaction or when she said she was going to the kitchen to make me the mashed potatoes and gravy I’d take two bites of and then rinse into the sink.

When I came back from the Bay Area and the two days that I had sought to make me forget the mess I had left, I borrowed $1,200 from my grandparents and rented a tiny two-bedroom apartment.

In that apartment, I’d make spaghetti for my kids, and we’d eat it off of a wicker patio table that had, the week before, been next to my grandmother’s pool. They would go to sleep on small twin-size air mattresses I bought at Target. I would lay awake on the queen size version. Because I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and also because mania robs you of sleep, making you believe two hours is sufficient.

I had only a few things my ex let me have, a few things that I had charged on a credit card that wasn’t entirely maxed out, a fluffy floral sofa and a patio table that my grandmother gave me. And my mania and my shame.

I listened to the song “Lucky” on repeat, singing along, crying and learning the chords so I could play it on the acoustic guitar my dad had given me on the birthday I celebrated before I left everything behind for a new life.

I was so lucky to have a new life and a new person to love, who loved me.

And I was on a manic cloud that made it all seem so perfectly idyllic.

That’s what mania did to me.

But I can’t blame it. Not because it wasn’t there, but because that’s a bullshit excuse. I wish I could say that every mistake I’ve made, every lousy decision, is all a manifestation of my faulty brain chemistry.

But the truth is, even if it was the mania, I still have to sleep with the image of my kids crying over pizza the night I told them that I’d never share that house, the first one we’d bought, scrimped and saved for, again.

Four years after the wicker patio table and that hideous sofa, I saw the psychiatrist who would finally officially diagnose me over a bag of Sunchips and a Starbucks latte. The man that would medicate me, adjusting formulations over and over, until a year after that, I was at last, after 20 years, stable.

I haven’t had a single suicidal thought in nine months. I haven’t had a manic episode in much longer than that. I can’t remember a lot of words or phone numbers and addresses I had memorized for 20 years — because that’s what Lamictal does while it keeps me from buying useless shit instead of paying my mortgage.

My mouth is dry, and I gained 15 pounds — because that’s what Zoloft does while it keeps my OCD and eating disorder at an arm’s distance and my depression suffocated.

For a while, I was on one medication that made me fall asleep sitting up. I can’t remember what it’s called because I was asleep, and also because of Lamictal stealing my words.

But I take them every day, eight of them, along with a colorful handful of supplemental horse pills that I hope do something to counteract what the pharmaceuticals are doing to my liver. Every morning with breakfast, over coffee with the man I adore. Every night at the bathroom sink, right before I shea butter my hands and spoon to sleep with that same guy.

And I sleep. Mostly restful. At least five hours usually, always striving for seven. Our two littles sneak into our king-size bed and kick me in the face. Sometimes I end up on the bottom 5 percent of that giant mattress. And it makes me angry because no one likes to get kicked in the face by a six-year-old, but then I wake up, and I love them even more than the day before.

I am still ashamed. But despite that, or in spite of that, my life is beautiful.

I have all I need and most of what I want. When I can’t sleep, I can write at 1 AM, and in the morning I will have coffee that is made just how I like it, by a man who is my match, paired with my pharmacy of meds, and probably two fried eggs that we collected from our backyard hens the day before.

My big kids, two of whom are adults now, are fantastic. The two kids Matt and I made, that united our family around a common love, are people I can’t imagine living without. My life is as perfect as I could ever ask for or deserve.

And the Perler bead soccer guy is on my dresser. A reminder of why I swallow a dozen pills every day.

This article first appeared on ravishly.com. Read more from Joni here.

Also at ravishly:

Why Do You Hate Your Body?

13 Things My 4-Year-Old Needs To Discuss at 4 A.M.

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