#i think about electro women alot

[maximuswolf]

ukrainian electro-pop singer from 2012

ukrainian electro-pop singer from 2012 🙏🏻 In 2012 a classmate showed me a song, it was ukrainian or maybe russian. The genre was Pop-House-Electro, has a male singer and the colors in the music video are quiet dark. The music video is somewhat sexualized (women dancing). I think the singer had black hair and was wet during the video all the time, maybe standing in the rain or just having alot of hairgel.I‘m trying to find that song since cupple days, but can‘t find it. Really hoping someone can helpme find it. Sadly I don‘t really remember more details, neither do I speak ukrainian / russian, and therefor can‘t tell you what the song was about. Submitted April 24, 2024 at 06:16AM by cool-snack https://ift.tt/MeSs5xq via /r/Music

[astralmona]

cliche romantic things with genshin characters !

AKA snippets from AU ideas that i am not ready to write out yet

w/ ei (slight angst), beidou and lisa (suggestive)

ei + slow dancing

"i don't know how to dance," you say. ei answers back with a smile, hand still outstretched. sighing, you reach out slowly, willing your feet to not trip you over.

she pulls you into her easily. "you don't have to know how to dance. just follow me." you feel her place a kiss against your cheek before she's whisking you around her chambers — a hand placed on your waist, and the other intertwined with your fingers.

it's quiet. it is in the dead of night in the shogun's chambers after all. a place where ei has shown you over and over again that she chooses you, above all else. the sound of hushed footfalls on wooden floors keeps a steady rhythm. she drops her other hand to your waist, silencing the movements. it takes you a moment to realise she's pulled you into a tight hug — face turned into your neck.

"ei?" you ask. "is something wrong?"

ei shakes her head. it's you that doesn't remember. you're not exactly who you were all those years ago, but when ei looks into your eyes and sees the mirth in your eyes whenever she speaks, she remembers. she can picture a time, a place, maybe even before the archon war where she's danced with you like this before. what a pleasant twist of fate to meet you again right after she's left her plane of euthymia.

although, ei grimaces as she remembers miko's smirk, hidden behind a well-placed hand. it's most likely not as much of a coincidence as she thinks. regardless, she's grateful.

"i'm glad you're here," is all ei says. one hand strokes your hair and the other running down your spine. she's always held you in this way, touching every part of you as though she's making sure you're real.

"i am too," you reply.

you'll stay this time, won't you? ei wants to ask, but she already knows the answer you'll give her. a tilt to your head, a frown as you try to piece together if you've ever made her doubt otherwise, before a small giggle as you stroke her cheek, promising her.

that's what these dances are — a reminder of promises made to each other on unforgettable nights just like these.

beidou + soft moments under moonlight

you see beidou's silhouette before she even sees you. she's perched on top of the cliff at guyun stone forest, gazing out to the sea. even from here, you can tell there's a wistfulness in her expression, similar to how she would look on the crux during long journeys.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

against all better odds, you flush. "don't say cheesy stuff like that when i'm sneaking up behind you."

beidou barks out a laugh, turning to face you and beckoning you over to her side. "how is he?" she asks, voice low. there's concern swimming over her face, and you know who she's talking about even without his name.

"kaedehara kazuha is doing... fine." you shrug. you can still picture the small boy with his anemo vision hanging from his hip, a hastily wrapped bandage around his wrist, looking all over the ship but really seeing anything. it's only when the crux's crew first sees the signs of liyue's shores that he opens up, hiding behind a mask of poetry and elegant lines. "he always seems to be looking for something thought." you finish.

"isn't that almost everyone who ends up joining the crux?" beidou peers at you knowingly, a smirk on her face.

you raise an eyebrow at her as she breaks out into laughter once again. there's something admirable about it. the way she takes, and gives, and cares, and her unfraid, unabashed laughter. it's been a long time since you've laughed like that. without knowing it, your fingers reach down to intertwine with hers, hearing beidou's chuckle cut short with a small "oh?"

"i haven't found what i'm looking for." you start, eyes focusing on your interlocked fingers and tracing your way up her arm to her face. your words catch in your throat as you take in her form — eye slightly hooded in fondness and her focus entirely on you. "but i think i'm pretty satisfied all the same."

beidou smiles in return. it's gentle and it's soft. "well, look at you go." there's a teasing glint as she glances between your lips and your eyes. "i think you've been hanging out too much with the new kid."

you roll your eyes with a giggle, knowing she means well. and when she catches your lips under the moonlight, putting everything she has in it, just like she does with anything important, you realise you don't really need to hear her say what she truly feels when it's always been so glaringly obvious in her actions.

lisa + taking care of you when you're sick

"i mean, really." lisa walks over to you with the scent of tea wafting through the air. "if you wanted me to take care of you, all you had to do was ask." there's a teasing lilt to her voice that you should have grown accustomed to by now, and yet, here you were, curling further into the sheets to hide the warmth spreading on your cheeks.

"don't you have to be at the library?" you murmur through the pain in your throat. your hand lifts up to massage it as though it'll ease the strain.

lisa responds with a tsk. "the library can certainly handle it's own for a few hours. besides," she continues. "if anything were to happen to the books while i was busy with more important things..."

you feel your skin tingle with her words. she doesn't need to finish her sentence for you to know the types of punishments she's referring to. there's a soft clink as the cup is settled down on your bedside table. the bed dips as lisa settles herself down with a quiet hmph. her cool hand tugs down your bedsheets just enough to reach your forehead.

"oh, you're really burning up." there's a quiet undertone of concern underneath her silky voice. it reminds you of other more intimate times when she's been worried about you.

not to be outdone, you swallow thickly through the pain in your throat. "it's because you're here."

silence falls between the two of you. you peek your head out from under the covers to see lisa’s reaction, and have just enough time to catch what seems to be purple lightning dancing across her eyes before she turns away, feigning a yawn.

“get well soon, darling.” her voice drops low dangerously. “you’re going to need all the rest you can get once i start toying with you again.”

“i miss having all your attention.” you send a half smirk her way, that you’re sure ends up looking more pained than flirtatious.

surprisingly, lisa doesn’t respond to you with any dangerously enticing lines, merely a sigh. “don’t you have all my attention now?” her hand strokes your cheek, tracing up to your hair and running down your arm in calming, repetitive strokes. lisa’s gaze settles upon you, and there’s a strange feeling in your chest at the fondness lurking in her eyes. “you disappeared for four days,” lisa says, closing her eyes in thought. “no one knew where you were, and all that time, you were just trying to recover from this horrible sickness by yourself. you can ask, you know?” she opens her eyes, staring at you unflinchingly. “no one in mondstadt is ever going to be too busy for you.”

there’s an unspoken suggestion underlying her words. ‘i’m never going to be too busy for you.’ you lean into her touch. “sorry.” you mutter softly into her hand. “i thought i could handle it.”

there’s no response from lisa, and slowly, but surely, you drift off to quiet humming and warm touches against your skin. lisa stays, placing a kiss on the top of your forehead once she’s sure you’re asleep, constantly reassuring herself that you’re here with her.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: Gaelic Park – New York, NY 8/26/71

Fifty years ago today, on Thursday, August 26, 1971, the Grateful Dead played a concert at Gaelic Park in New York City.

Gaelic Park is located at West 240th Street and Broadway, five miles north and east of Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. In 1926, the Gaelic Athletic Association purchased it to host the Gaelic Games. What are Gaelic Games? I’m a sliver Irish (just learned that a few years ago from a cousin who did some DNA stuff), but I didn’t know about such games until I asked the Google machine. Here you go, from the Wiki:

“Gaelic games (Irish: Cluichí Gaelacha) are sports played in Ireland under the auspices of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA). They include Gaelic football, hurling, Gaelic handball and rounders. Women’s versions of hurling and football are also played: camogie, organised by the Camogie Association of Ireland, and ladies’ Gaelic football, organised by the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association. While women’s versions are not organised by the GAA (with the exception of handball, where men’s and women’s handball competitions are both organised by the GAA Handball organisation), they are closely associated with it.”

Some to unpack there. What’s Gaelic football? It’s basically rugby. (The rules are probably way different, but this is a music blog, so don’t judge.) And hurling? Rugby with a small ball and sticks that look like sporty pizza paddles. (Again, don’t judge.) Gaelic handball? Racquetball, except you use your hands and you’re outside, not in some bougie health club from the ’80s. Finally, rounders? It’s actually alot like baseball. Pretty cool.

Why were the Dead there? A 9/2/71 piece in the Village Voice by Carman Moore, now archived on the Grateful Dead Sources blog, said that Gotham promoter Howard Stein, a Bill Graham competitor who booked the Dead to play at the Cap Theater in Port Chester, NY and the Academy of Music in NYC, had turned “the drab little Riverdale soccer field … into a summer rock mini-festival.” (Check out the poster above.) Moore’s writing has an early-70s sizzle, and he refers to his colleague, now-legendary rock scribe Robert Christgau. Here’s an excerpt:

“Last week’s Grateful Dead concert up at Gaelic Park was a usual Dead session, meaning that the band-to-fan-to-band electro-chemical process for which rock music is famed was on like high mass at Easter. Although I think I know most of the time what they are doing musically (Christgau will like this notion); I don’t quite understand them electro-chemically. Like the New York Knicks of two seasons ago, they can do excellent things together though they are not a group of deathless superstars. Garcia gets his songs across, but he can’t sing, and Bob Weir’s voice rises to about average…maybe better when he gets to screaming and the music sweeps him along. I still find it difficult to recognize the Dead songs that aren’t “Truckin'” or “St. Stephen” one from the other. I am not one of their fans, but seem to be one of their admirers. Their music speaks in a special language to their live listeners, and that language has the vocabulary of everybody else, but a convoluted syntax all its own. The note sequences are not completely dependent upon musical factors but are also dictated by how involved the band feels and also upon what kind of heat the audience is giving off. I’m trying to get to some essences of this thing.

The drama of a Dead concert revolves around the fact that wherever the band plays they know that a certain number (several tons) of their partisans will be there and that their crowd knows the Dead potential to excite them, but they also know that the Dead may not get into gear until the crowd begins to apply some heat, and so forth. Both parties also know that the concert will be long enough and informal enough for anything to happen on either side of the footlights, and so audiences improvise (smoke, go to the hot dog stand, kiss and snuggle, cheer, dance, listen like star-struck fools) just like their musician friends on stage (who play light and funny for awhile, retire backstage awhile, stand around, or get lost in a piece and turn on the heavy jets). Like good lovers, the Grateful Dead know the secrets of good foreplay, taking your time, surprising the partner for awhile, and then just reacting for a spell.”

The timing of the show seems odd. The band was on the East Coast in July, but began August back in Cali – LA, SD, Berkeley – before a three-night run at Chicago’s historic Auditorium Theater. Then they trekked back to NYC. Our resident Deaditor ECM explains that aspect: “This show was supposed to be played the day before the Yale Bowl concert on July 30, but some issues with the equipment trucks and/or weather prevented it from happening from the scheduled date. There are a few stories on the web about people who didn’t get the message (no twitter back then!) and dropped some acid only to show up to an empty stadium. Haha!”

Moore said that the show reminded him of “a high school stadium I used to know – low stands, unfulfilled infield grass, mud holes here and there, beer sold at one end in some quantity.” He continued:

“The formal shape of the concert was a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end – not a shooting-star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate…the goods delivered as promised…sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place. I did not enjoy their country-westernish opening tunes; maybe they didn’t either, because the pieces were awfully short. But by the three-quarter mark they had involved themselves, the crowd, and me too.

First they got the rhythm engaged and finally, courtesy of Jerry Garcia’s lead and interplays with Lesh and Weir, they went into the soloing and jamming which are the real magic music territory of this band. Much is made of the Dead soloists, but it became clear to me by last Thursday that bassist Phil Lesh plus those two drummers create the atmosphere that makes the Dead thing possible. The drummers were exceptionally understated, but Lesh kept bopping and thrumming away, heavily at all times, until his patterns were consistently getting the other players off. In the middle of “St. Stephen” there was a special coming together: Lesh had found a nice ambiguous but compelling set of licks; Garcia eased into a solo; Weir strummed a cross-time lick over all of it; it built; it quieted; Garcia started to play strange classical kind of lines; the drums dropped out; the audience got quiet; nothing at all could be predicted for a minute or so; then Lesh began to grope his way out with two chords and rhythms which began to regularize; audience began to jump and then to clap; guitars began to straighten out; the band came home to the cheers of the fans. Good music-making. The listener goes home without a little tune to whistle, but he hears music. As if they were finishing off some personal solos based over the last riffs heard, the fans went out of Gaelic Park without a thousand encores and without a lot of fuss on the streets outside.

It’s all very interesting, surprising, and I guess mystifying as before. All I know is that the Dead, or their fans, or the combination of both lure you into planning to return when they’re all assembled and back in town again.”

Apparently, there was some grief about bootlegs at this show. The GD Sources blog has a post that archives a 10/6/71 piece by the excellently-handled Basho Katzenjammer (Basho, the 17th Century Japanese haiku master; Katzenjammer, the German word for hangover) that gripes about an army of 200# “muscle freaks” at the direction of tour manager Sam Cutler liberating a handful of tapes from 100# weakling Johnny Lee. It’s a truly fun read. An excerpt:

“The biggest piece of shit spewing from Cutler’s mouth is about the reasons the Dead have for being so pissed off: they don’t like the quality (remember Garcia’s line in “I Got No Chance of Losin”? He says, “I’m only in it for the gold.” Yeah, music has a way of being more honest than the artist intends it to be at times…) The “quality”? Anyone who has bought a bootleg recently will know and agree that the bootleg stereo album called “Grateful Dead” is one of the best underground products yet. The tape was taken from a concert the group did at Winterland, on the coast a few months back. Yeah, Garcia fucks up a bit on “Casey Jones,” and Pigpen’s ego may have been deflated a bit by his voice coming over poorly on “Good Loving” but that was a concert. You do a concert and you stand by your performance, good or bad. That’s show business.

This effete artistic bullshit doesn’t matter anyway … When you’re out to get all the money you can out of your gigs, like the Dead seem to be (like all the groups seem to be) you might be accused of being a bit piggish; when you use strong-arm shit to insure that you get every last penny that you deserve — by making Amerikan standards — you are a Pig. Jerry Garcia, is that you?

Nobody buys that anti-bootleg shit about the artistic integrity of the artist in saying what goes out. One, you stand by your performance; two, even if you don’t want to, Jerry, somewhat, and say “all your private property is fair game for your brothers (especially when they sell records of concerts that don’t compete with coming releases) and your brother (who’s gonna continue to dig you as we live off your comets we’re gonna keep ripping you off because it is possible. As simple as that.” If you and Cutler and Stein continue your shit, though, we’ll just have to sing the song the same old way, you guys being put in the position of being the same old reactionary establishment that we’re all ripping off. It’s all around. You break your back playing gigs for ten years and suddenly success is staring you in the face. Bread: lots and lots of bread. You turn your back on your poor, ripping ’em off roots and start to tighten up. You’re in the biggest rip-off industry around, but no one cares as long as they’re having fun.

Money. That’s the whole story, isn’t it? If these were other times, in another land under a different set of rules maybe you could justifiably complain about the people who want to give your recorded performances out free because you didn’t screen them and pick out the sections you didn’t like and do them over for the cat, ’cause no one charges for their music, and because the means of production belong to the people, and they can turn out all the good sounds they can, and you have a natural right to screen all releases. But we’re here. Now. You guys are making millions — or soon will be. Money is power, especially as the concept of money is crumbling nation-wide and power freaks like Stein are cornering the market on it. The channels that the green-power the Dead bring in travel aren’t the healthiest for the generations of revolution to come. Stein is one of these hopeful images of a freak with a chance to change things positively gone sour, who uses all his power to consolidate his power; who’ll go to any extremes to insure the natural expansion of that power. Fuck him. Fuck you.”

Speak, Basho! Quaint that the beef about bootlegs back then was sound quality, rather than copyright. Stuff got figured out at some point, I think. Like when Bobby shut down the LMA, lmao.

Ed featured part of this show in the 2016 edition of his epcot 31 Days of Dead project. Here are his listening notes, which are typically spot-on (and better than than the not-quite-on-the-bus commentary from Mr. Moore): 

“Less than three weeks after Pigpen’s definitive performance of Hard To Handle at the Hollywood Palladium (8/6/71), the Grateful Dead play the final date of their summer tour in 1971 at Gaelic Park in the Bronx. It will be Pig’s last show until December and the last time the band will ever perform in their original quintet configuration of Jerry, Phil, Pig, Billy and Bobby. By September, Keith will be rehearsing with the band to assume a full-time role on the keys. Perhaps anticipating his absence, Pigpen leads the band through 6 of his songs including the rarely-played Empty Pages and the last Hard To Handle. It is also one of the last performances of Saint Stephen, until the band revived it in 1976 with a major facelift, never to be played the same way again. When you consider these historical milestones along with the departure of Mickey Hart and the closings of the legendary Fillmore East and West earlier in the year it makes you realize that this concert carried a little more weight than anyone could have ever foreseen at the time. It truly was the end of a chapter in the life of the Grateful Dead. As you listen to each song you can’t help but feel a certain degree of nostalgia.

For me, the hidden gem of the show is the outstanding version of Uncle Johns Band. Jerry’s first guitar solo is an absolute joy to hear. His notes sing with irresistible melody and happy sunshine which perfectly capture the nostalgia of those carefree early years. If you listen closely you can hear Pigpen playing the wood claves.”

Speaking of Pig, this show features the second and final performance of Empty Pages. The NYS Music blog, which has a nice write-up of this show, describes it as a McKernan original that “pairs his traditional crooning style with a slow blues jam that’s nicely peppered with fiery guitar licks from Garcia. It’s a true rarity and a shame that the band wouldn’t be able to further develop this one.”

I feel like this was a try-hard post. It might be tl;dr, idk. Here’s the true goodness…

Transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording HERE.

More soon.

JF

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