#i wouldn’t feel that way making art and supporting your household. that’s meaningful. my time wouldn’t be wasted

[softscottlang]

Finding Our Forever Part 1 (Tom Holland)

[Foster Dad!Tom x Foster Mom!Reader (established)]

Warning: Foster Homes?? idk if that’s a warning.

Summary: Sophia and Mason show up at the Holland household and are starting to adjust to the new home, 

Word Count: 2.5k 

Teaser 

The air was cold when the small car pulled up to a small house, Mason and Sophia looked at each other. They were both used to being thrown around from home to home, but that didn’t mean they were used to the feeling. The bubbling anxiety the Mason never talked about. The heat that Sophia felt rising to her head from frustration, never being spoken of.

“Ready?” Mason’s voice carried over the several inches to where his sister was sitting. She was staring down at her feet. A look of anger displayed clearly through her features.

“Do we have a choice?” Her voice came out rough. Sophia was tired of moving. She was tired of feeling unwanted. Mason felt the same way, he just didn’t know how to admit it.

“Maybe this is it.”

Sophia stared at her feet still. She remembered looking at them five years ago, they were smaller. They held up her body that was more hopeful. Now they were big kid feet, one’s that she would use every time she walked from yet another failed home.

“You say that every time Mason.” Her voice came out softer this time.

“I know.” Mason said before a knock on the window was signaling that it was time for them to get out of the car.

The house was modest, but bigger than other places that the twins had lived at. There was a soft brown door that was encased by the clean porch. There were two cars in the drive way, both ones that an average married couple would have.

Sophia was holding onto her suitcase with both hands, while Mason was carrying his in one hand and his spare hand was shoved in his pocket. The feeling that they were experiencing was numbness. They weren’t sad nor happy, they just felt nothing.

The feet of the ten-year-olds ponded on the pavement before they were standing at the door. Sophia looked to Mason with a solemn expression, not sure if she should ring the door bell or wait for Sarah to do it.

Meanwhile, you watched as your husband paced the room. His hands were pulling at his hair in nervousness. You had decided to become foster parents after seeing the number of children that were in the system. It was jaw dropping to see the high count, so you both talked for months about how to help before deciding on becoming foster parents.

“What if we aren’t good parents to them?” Tom’s hands were shaking as he pulled them away from his curled hair. Your stomach was flipping while you were watching him become unhinged. You did your best to keep the feeling to yourself, trying not to worry the man before you. “What if they don’t like us? Or we aren’t good role mod-?”

“Tom!” Your voice demanded his to stop. His eyes were big with worry and fear, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. You walk over to him and grasp his arms lovingly, making eye contact with him. “We’re going to be great parents, no matter who is about to walk through that door. We will love them and take care of them.”

Tom nodded to you and quickly pulled you into his arms, hugging you close to his body. You were the thing that soothed him whenever he was becoming unhinged. You were his anchor in a way, and he was yours when you needed it.

“You’re right my love, but you know this isn’t going to be easy.” Tom said with his face in your hair, muffling the sound that came out of his mouth.

“Of course, it’s not.” You say into the hug he gave you. Embracing all the feelings that were over coming you. The anxiety that was bubbling in your stomach made you grasp the fabric wrapped around his torso. “They need us, they need someone.”

You both stood there, embracing each other before there was a sudden bell sound. You both jumped a little before realizing that it was the doorbell that had interrupted your moment. The nerves began to build in your body and manifest itself into shaking hands.

You hurried over to the door, careful not to touch the door knob. It was realizing that once you opened that door, your life was going to change. Whether or not it would change for the better, you wouldn’t be able to take this decision back.

You hesitated, and you felt awful for it.

Tom took your hand in his and reached for the handle, he felt the same thing that you did. He felt the scared knots that were in his chest, but he gave you a nod and opened the door.

When he opened the door, you saw a woman standing behind two children, both holding a bag that seemed too small to be carrying all the possessions of a ten-year-old. It made your stomach drop but you made sure that the smile on your face stayed in place.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland, this is Sophia and Mason Smith.” The lady you knew to be Sarah said to you and your husband.

The little boy was looking down at his feet and played with something in his pocket. His curly hair was obviously brushed but looked as if it hadn’t had a cut in several months. He had freckles that decorated his button nose. He was wearing a gray shirt with colorful stains and a pair of khaki shorts that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks.

The girl on the other hand was wearing a pair of ripped up jeans that obviously hadn’t been bought that way and a plain yellow shirt that was wrinkled. Her curly black hair was matted and frizzy, an obvious result from sleeping on wet hair without brushing it. She was looking past you with her deep brown eyes, into the house, obviously not interested in this part of the household movements.

“Well, we’re Tom and Y/N. We’re excited for you guys to be here.” Tom says while putting a hand on your back, intended to be for support. “Why don’t you guys come on in?”

You lead the twins and Sarah in before seeing that she and Tom were engaging in conversation about the twins so you took it upon yourself to show them their new house.

“So, this is the living room.” You say while giving them a tour of the house, until you were about to reach the hallway with the bedrooms in it. Tom joined you just before, standing behind them and leaning against the hallway wall.

You pointed to a room on your right and gestured to the one exactly next to it. The rooms had a conjoined bathroom for the twins to share.

“Sophia gets this room and Mason gets the one down the hall.” Sophia and Mason stood still after you had told them about where their rooms are. They shared a confused and conflicted look that made you look to Tom questioningly. “Is everything alright loves?”

“We’ve never had our own rooms.” Sophia’s voice came out reflecting no emotion, but her face was turned down, obviously sad.

“Well you guys don’t have to sleep separately for the first few nights. I understand how hard it is to be in a new place with strangers.” Tom said while bending down to eye level with the twins. “But the rules say you guys have to have different bedrooms.”

“A lot of people broke that rule then. We usually get the small room away from everyone. Sometimes there’s only one bed and a window.” Sophia quipped back to the brunette man. Her arms crossed against her chest in a sassy way. She obviously didn’t understand the severity of that statement.

“Well the Hollands are different.” Tom made a point to say this with no humor in his voice.

The air was uncomfortable for a moment before Sophia scoffed a ‘sure’ and trudged into the room you had assigned her to.

You watched as Tom put a careful hand on Mason’s shoulder and lead him down to his room. You watched after them, it was something that seemed unreal, there were two other human beings that you were now responsible for living in your house.

You walked into Sophia’s room to see her sitting on the perfectly made bed with a book in her hand and her suitcase laying open on the duvet. There wasn’t much in there

“What book are you reading hun?”  You ask quietly from just inside the doorway, not trying to push the dark-haired girl too far.

“It’s none of your business.” Her voice was monotoned, showing that she left no room for humor.

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking.” You made sure to not let any emotion of anger or sadness seep into your words.

“No you’re not.” Sophia still had yet to look up from the book that she held in her hands. “They’re never sorry…” Her voice trailed off and her head hung low. She didn’t want to carry on the conversation and you could tell from the tone in her voice.

“Sophia, I’m going to check on your brother.” You say when you see Tom appear in the doorway and lean his head towards were Mason’s was. Obviously seeing the saddened look on your face and trying to relieve you of that feeling. “Call for me if you need anything.”

You walked from Sophia’s room to where her twin brother was unpacking his things. He was carefully placing each torn and dirty clothing item into the dresser that you and Tom had put in there for him. It was almost as if it was ceremonial for the green-eyed boy.

You watched him with great interest until you say that underneath all of the clothes, there was broken crayons, un sharpened and dull pencils along with the several pieces of paper that were colored on. It looked pretty from where you were, but the alluring nature of the pastel colors drew you closer.

“Those are really pretty Mason; do you draw a lot?” You say before picking up a few pieces of paper. He nodded but kept his head down. His focus was on his hands, which had tiny marks littering his palms. “You like it then, yeah?”

“Yeah…” It was the first time you had heard him speak for himself. His sister normally did the talking for the two of them. You gave him a small smile before you examined the art work in your hands.

It was two well drawn people, one was a girl with curly hair and the other with- a boy with green eyes. They were holding hands while there was a blurry abundance of color surrounding them, looking like constant motion. It was beautiful and meaningful.

“That one’s me and Sophia. We’re never in the same place to get a good picture of it, but we have each other,” His voice was like a little pillow, soft but supported. “and that’s enough for me.”

You heart was pulled for the dark-haired boy in front of you. He was content with the life he had, but he wasn’t happy where he was and that was something you

“You’ll have more in this life Mason, I promise you.” Your words came out softly, trying not to take away from the serious moment.

“…Are we having dinner soon?” Mason said to you. He was looking at his hands again, the hands that were littered in little scratches and scars.

“Of course love, I’ll go start it now.” You say before exciting the room and started towards the kitchen, trying to get a meal out to these more than likely, hungry children.

Once you had finished and called everyone in for dinner, Sophia was the first to speak before the food was served.

“You guys it dinner together?” Sophia’s voice was still in the same tone as before. “And you want us to eat with you?” She was referring to the four place setting you had put on the table.

The fact that the younger girl felt that she needed to ask that was something that was very sad and heart wrenching,

“You’re part of the family now Sophia, of course you guys are eating with us.” Tom says, laughing at the girl’s question.

While dinner was quiet, it soon became a comfortable silence. One that you didn’t feel needed to be filled with small talk. Once you were done, you and Tom picked up the dishes and cleaned them together. You help small talk of what you were going to do for the next few weeks with the twins before school started now that you knew some of what they were interested in.

Once you had finished, you both walked back out to the dinning room where Mason was drawling on paper with his almost gone pencil that made indents from being chewed on. His focus was purely on the piece of art that he was creating.

You walked towards the living room and saw Sophia staring at something.

“That’s Spider-man!” Sophia said as she points to the poster that was framed on the wall. Tom smiled and nodded his head while you watched the small girl exclaim in wonder.

“Yeah! Do you like him?” You watched as your husband stood away from the curly haired girl but still close enough that they were within reaching distance of each other.

“Yeah! He’s my favorite super hero, after Spider-Gwen of course!” The hardened attitude that the young girl carried was slowly slipping away from her. Her eyes were slowly being to be filled with something you hadn’t seen on her yet.

Happiness.

“Well, did you know that I play Spider-man?” Tom said with a boyish smirk on his face, obviously showing off for the new comer.

“No way, Andrew Garfield is Spider-man.” Sophia said with her arms crossed and

“Oh yeah?” Tom responded before pulling his phone out of his pocket and opened a video from his camera roll. It was easy to guess that it was a video of him as Spider-man, but the interesting part came when the video finish and Sophia started screaming.

“I’m staying at Peter Parker’s house! This crazy!” She started jumping around and flailing her arms around. “Mace, did you hear me? THE Peter Parker!”

“How does it feel to meet your favorite superhero Sophia?” Tom said with a sassy grin on his face. Sophia’s head whipped over to him very quickly, her rare smile still ever so present.

“I thought you said you played Spider-MAN not Spider-GWEN.” Sophia bursted out into laughter almost immediately after causing Tom to give her a shocked look and feigned being hurt. She playfully pushed him and started to dart towards her room.

Tom looked at you after she had gone out of sight. He had a smile on his face and you both had the same thought running through your minds.

That maybe, just maybe, this was going to work.

~~~~

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[mcneelamusic]

Modern Day Irish Button Accordion Legend – Tony MacMahon

‘There’s no bog hole too deep for all the accordions in Ireland’ is a sentiment that some might agree with, but definitely not something you’d expect to hear from the mouth of one of Ireland’s greatest accordion players.If ever there was a statement to sum up the great Tony MacMahon, that’s it!A wonderful contradiction of talent, humility and self deprecation, Tony is one of the greatest Irish button accordion players to have ever graced the world of Traditional Irish Music. Not that he’d ever agree with that statement himself!Though sometimes considered a controversial figure due to his passionate views on Irish music, there’s no denying his contribution to the tradition. He has played with the best of the best and earned his rightful place among the greats of Irish music. Contents [hide]Inspiration Strikes Reverent and Humble A Dedicated Life Lifetime Achievement Award Farewell to Music Tony MacMahon – Master of the Tradition Inspiration Strikes Born in 1939, Tony MacMahon is a proponent of the C#/D press and draw style of Irish button accordion playing. His father came from an area steeped in traditional Irish music and dance and his mother concertina player. So, like most of the greats, he was surrounded by music from a young age.Growing up in Co. Clare, Tony was inspired by the accordion playing of the legendary Joe Cooley. Joe was a frequent visitor to the MacMahon household, arriving on the back of a motorbike – every inch the epitome of a modern day wandering minstrel.During the years in which Joe Cooley was ‘raising a storm of music through Clare’, Tony MacMahon fell in love with his playing. There’s no doubt he idolised the charismatic accordion player, and still does to this day. He reminisces fondly on the magical experience that was hearing Joe play the accordion:When he played he threw his head back, closed his eyes and seemed to sink down into his own playing, making the music go on, seemingly forever. Your senses were assaulted… a slow music-massage of your inner being, drawing out every little molecule of tenderness you had. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicJoe Cooley was not the only brilliant musician to inspire the young Tony MacMahon however. Piper Willie Clancy and fiddle player Bobby Casey were both neighbours, while the likes of Tommy Potts and Felix Doran were also frequent visitors to the house.It’s hardly surprising that today, like Joe Cooley, Tony MacMahon is also regarded as one of the most iconic and influential Irish button accordion players – despite his own protests to the contrary. Reverent and Humble The true magic of Tony Mac Mahon lies not only in his skilled playing or unique style, but in his humble, unassuming nature.Like most great musicians within the Irish music community he does not consider himself ‘one of the greats’. His reverence for the music and tradition is evident at all times, but his attitude to his own musical skills seems to be almost dismissive.In his own words he has claimed that:I wouldn’t regard my own music either as traditional or indeed anything to write home about. A self-appointed, big-mouthed guru, I plead guilty to most of the musical sins, mortal and venial, which I have laid at the doors of others. For longer than I care to remember, I have hacked my way through tunes of beauty and tenderness on stage. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicTo those who don’t know Tony, this could easily be misinterpreted as false modesty. A brilliant musician deflecting, purely to seem all the more humble. Really, it’s evidence of his grá (love) for Irish music.This is perhaps best explained by first understanding Tony’s own attitude to traditional Irish music:It means having a mind-set to one’s gift that is devoid of aggression, of narrow personal ambition. It involves an innocence, a humility in being the bearer of something that can infuse both musician and listener with a shaft of luminous joy. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicA Dedicated Life Tony MacMahon’s influence on traditional Irish music has been far-reaching.Throughout his life Tony has done brilliant work not

only in advocating the old press and draw style of Irish button accordion playing, but also in promoting other musicians. Much of his career as a producer and presenter in RTÉ (Raidío Teilifís Éireann – Ireland’s national broadcaster) was dedicated to promoting the careers of other traditional musicians. Tony is a man who, despite his own musical skill, was always putting others first.MacMahon enjoyed a long career with RTÉ, beginning work in 1969 and retiring in 1998. He began his career as a presenter of traditional Irish music TV programmes before becoming a radio producer. Tony established the iconic Irish music radio show, The Long Note which brought top quality Irish music to every home in Ireland.Among his many TV contributions are the shows The Pure Drop and Come West Along the Road, to name but a few in a long list of incredibly popular and successful shows that have been dedicated to showcasing the best that Irish music has to offer. As Sue Wilson of Roots says,Even if he wasn’t the man who first brought The Bothy Band together to perform on his RTÉ radio programme The Long Note, accordionist Tony Mac Mahon’s place in Ireland’s traditional music pantheon would nonetheless be secure.But luckily he was, and the traditional Irish music community is all the richer for the support Tony MacMahon has shown it throughout the years. Today’s landscape could have been very different indeed if not for his gentle encouragement and passionate commitment.Lifetime Achievement Award For a man as humble as Tony, you can imagine how outraged he must have been to be honoured with the TG4 Gradam Ceoil Lifetime Achievement Award in 2004. This is one of the highest accolades in traditional Irish music and Tony is a truly deserving recipient.If music doesn’t make that little part of your back crawl or give you that intense thrill of knowing that you’re alive in the world for an instant in time, then it’s wasted. – Tony Mac MahonThere’s no doubt that time spent listening to Tony’s playing is time well spent indeed. His lively, rhythmic playing is energetic without ever being frantic. He’s never in a rush to get to the end of a tune. You can tell he considers and appreciates every note along the way.You can also easily hear the influence of Tony’s first mentor Joe Cooley in his playing style. Have a listen to his passionate performance from the event, alongside the magical guitar player Steve Cooney and see if you agree. Farewell to Music In 2014, Tony was misdiagnosed with Parkinsons Disease due to a tremor in his hands. As a result he announced his retirement from music, but not before he was convinced to record (and believe me, it took some convincing) his magnum opus, his final album, Farewell to Music.Despite receiving rave reviews for his collaborations with iconic concertina player and fellow Clareman Noel Hill, singer Iarla Ó Lionard and the legendary guitarist Steve Cooney, Tony frequently required gentle encouragement to showcase and archive his own solo accordion playing. His most recent album was no exception. While he is highly regarded as one of the most influential Irish accordion players in the history of the instrument, Tony had released only two solo albums prior to this recording.Farewell to Music is a beautiful collection of slow airs – perhaps an unexpected offering from a button accordion player, but Tony MacMahon is highly regarded for his slow air playing.This is hardly surprising however, when you consider his reverence for the music, and the regard in which he holds the tradition. Only a true master could tackle these airs in such a meaningful and touching manner.It would be easy for an album of slow airs to seem maudlin and morose, but there is an air of celebration throughout. Each track offers its own unique moments of beauty which ‘resonate long after the final note has sounded’.Tony MacMahon – Master of the Tradition The opening track, Farewell to Music, aptly borrowed from the great composer and harp player Turlough O’Carolan himself, sets the scene perfectly. This is one of my favourite tracks on the

album: It’s a perfect example of Tony’s simplistic, unaffected playing style. There are no unnecessary bells and whistles in Tony’s playing – there never have been. This should not be interpreted as lack of skill however.Tony is a perfect example of an older, truly traditional style of accordion playing. Each note is filled with intent. His playing feels almost like a tribute to all those great accordion players who have gone before him and in whose footsteps he has followed.Tony Mac Mahon famously shared a flat with legendary piper and singer Seamus Ennis in the 1960s. It’s he who Tony credits with most strongly influencing his intimate performance and tender interpretation of Irish slow airs.Farewell to Music should be compulsory listening for anyone who wants to master the art of Irish slow air playing, whatever instrument the play. Tony gives voice to these airs, breathing life into them in the same way a sean nós singer would.The result is thirteen poignant and beautifully delicate renditions that will be remembered as some of the greatest artistry to have ever graced the world of traditional Irish music.I spent a few days playing nothing but slow airs, digging deep into the fertile soil of those beautiful, plaintive, moving melody-narratives of our great tradition, to see what I could find there, one last time. – Tony MacMahonNever was there a more fitting farewell from a true master to his beloved art form. [Image: Athlour via Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0]

[futuresandpasts]

Futures & Pasts | MRR #403

My monthly 1000-2000 words in Maximum Rocknroll #403 (December 2016) were given over to: some challenges to the prevailing “it was easy, it was cheap, go & do it”/”get in the van”-style narratives surrounding the performative aspects of involvement in DIY punk, an appreciation of true Portland femme-punk freak inspirations Jungle Nausea, the excellent & tightly-wound contempo Canadian post-punk of Fountain & yet another A+ record from the people who are probably in all of your current favorite bands in Oakland. Read it here, or grab a back issue because print media rules. 

It’s finally my turn to write one of those requisite “my band just went on tour” introductions for my column this month, although it seems kind of weird to refer to an extended weekend of shows that didn’t take us further away than three hours from Portland a “tour”. Micro-tour? Whatever. It’s a constant source of both fascination and frustration to me, as someone in my early thirties who has consistently been booking shows since my senior year of high school (and in three separate American time zones at this point), to observe how so many people in the loosely-defined DIY punk community don’t seem to openly recognize or acknowledge that being in a band that is afforded the ability to tour is actually a really privileged position. It’s one of those things that has been so normalized - you’re in a punk band, you’re going to get in the van and jam econo - that I feel this strange self-imposed sense of competition with my friends who are going on two-week (or longer) tours or even just playing shows here in Portland more than once every other month, since punk social capital is so often tied to visibility and the performative aspects of being in a band, and not everyone is afforded the access or resources to maintain that level of activity. We were practicing and writing songs for almost a year before we set up our first show, which feels like an eternity when framed within the common punk narrative of a handful of people picking up instruments and winding up in the opening slot on some basement gig a month or two later, if that.

Anyway, point being - it’s still incredibly meaningful to me when anyone asks us to play a show in pretty much any context, so to be invited by Osa Atoe (of whom I’ve been an unabashed fan for years) to play the opening night kick-off for the Olympia Zine Fest last weekend was completely fucking unreal. The theme for the show was zine writers who are also in DIY bands, which meant that we got billed with the line “Maximum Rock’n’Roll” under our band’s name on the flyer (speaking of things that are completely fucking unreal), and we played at the public library in front of a neon-lit “TEEN ZONE” sign in the young adult section, in what was essentially the culmination of every dream that I’ve ever had as a punk librarian. Our Portland friends VOG were also on the Zine Fest gig (check out their bass player Corby’s very rad music zine Totally Different Head), so we decided to combine forces to sow the seeds of minimal post-punk and weird hardcore along Washington state’s I-5 corridor for the weekend. It can often be a source of insecurity for me to be an adult lady doing things for the first time that so many of my peers (especially the male-identified ones) have been doing for years now, but between VOG and my bandmates, I couldn’t have asked for a better or more supportive group of people with whom to spend four straight days playing shows and eating late-night Mediterranean food - it’s almost enough to make me completely forget about all of the misogynist assholes and self-serving creeps in my not-so-distant past who constantly filled me with doubt that what I was doing had any artistic or creative value at all. Thanks to the gang for all of the jokes about Temple of the Dog and Frasier in Seattle (and since Seattle), to whomever was responsible for throwing WIPERS’ “Youth of America” on in the diner while we were hanging out in Olympia, to Osa for being a constant source of inspiration, to my oldest friend Charlie for making it so that we could finally play a show together after knowing each other for half of our lives, and to everyone in Portland, Olympia and Seattle who came to hang out. It really does mean a lot. And if anyone in Tacoma wants to hook us up with a show in the future that doesn’t include bands with fucked-up, sexist artwork (we barely dodged that bullet this time), write to me, okay?

On the subject of Pacific Northwest punk past and present, Portland’s late ‘70s/early ‘80s punk and post-punk history has been fairly well-documented and preserved over the course of the past few years - the first handful of classic WIPERS and RATS LPs are back in print, NEO BOYS finally got the reverential anthology treatment that they’ve long deserved, Mark Sten’s sprawling, absurdly thorough (if at times problematic) journal-style chronicle All Ages: The Rise and Fall of Portland Punk Rock, 1977-1981 surfaced last year, and you can even get the crucial 7” from synth-punk mutants COUNT VERTIGO for less than three figures now that it’s been properly re-released. Our city’s foremost femme-punk freaks JUNGLE NAUSEA have finally gotten their long-overdue nod, as local heroes Water Wing Records have just reissued the group’s six-song 1982 EP with the addition of some absolutely killer bonus live material and a lengthy and incredibly illuminating oral history of the band called “The History of Jungle Nausea,” making this thing pretty essential even for all of us true believers out there who have the original 12”. Originally conceived as an “experimental noise band,” JUNGLE NAUSEA incorporated equal influence from the bass-driven, highly rhythmic sound of UK bands like the SLITS, GANG OF FOUR, and the POP GROUP and the improvisational bent of CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, SUN RA and free jazz, resulting in a truly singular and unique take on contorted, art-damaged post-punk that the band describes as their “new concept” to fill the void left in the wake of punk’s drift toward hardcore and its resulting hyper-masculinity. It’s a gloriously chaotic combination of squealing synth, detuned guitars, repetitively elastic basslines, various homemade or household items doubling as noise-making instruments, affectless female vocals, and the clatter of a low-budget drum machine, and I’d honestly put the highs from this record (“Alternative” or “Sympathy,” in particular) into the pantheon of jagged and skittish femme-punk jams of all time. Extra special bonus: “Air Conditioner From Hell,” previously only available in video format via the documentary Northwest Passage: The Birth Of Portland's DIY Culture! (Water Wing, waterwingrecords.com)

I completely missed out on FOUNTAIN’s Fountain 2 cassette when it was first self-released last year, but there’s now a brand new second run of tapes thanks to Seattle’s Good Person Recordings and my copy has been in heavy rotation in my living room boombox over the past few months. Apparently the band is currently in the process of a trans-Canadian relocation from Victoria to Montreal, so I was especially psyched that they made it down to Portland for their second-ever U.S. show (!!) last month while they’re still a West Coast concern, at least for the time being. Like their kindred upstarts PUBLIC EYE or MARBLED EYE on the southern side of the  international border, FOUNTAIN’s tightly-controlled, needling take on late ‘70s minimalist-minded post-punk is just off-kilter enough to retain a sense of human warmth. On “Emerald Dripping Flat,” the combination of tense, angular guitar clang and dual vocalists reciting their lines in tandem with a certain emotionally-distant urgency (turning a simple repetitive chant of “sugar, water, cream, water / sugar, water, cream, water” into the probably most insistent hook I’ve heard all year) is not entirely dissimilar to SPRAY PAINT in execution, albeit with those Austinites’ more darkly agitated no wave tendencies replaced by the sort of frenetically jangling and fractured pop leanings that had infiltrated the genetic code of UK DIY by the early 1980s. The clipped shouts and jittery, kinetic rush of “Venetian Unfolding” are both wiry and WIRE-y, while “V8T3Y6” recalls the raucous, freewheeling art-punk of vintage Rough Trade-era eccentrics like SWELL MAPS - the disarming catchiness of the phrase “car crash, hidden bomb / 39 ways for you to die” could have easily fit right into something like “H.S. Art.” (Good Person Recordings, fountain.bandcamp.com)

From the same brilliant minds who have brought you the WORLD, RAYS, VIOLENT CHANGE, LIFE STINKS, ANDY HUMAN & the REPTOIDS and seemingly every other sick band currently active in Oakland, the debut single from BEATNIKS mines the warped Rust Belt ruckus of the ELECTRIC EELS or ROCKET FROM THE TOMBS, by way of the sort of snotty, primitive Killed By Death-style punk combos that those groups ultimately inspired by the dawn of the ‘80s. There’s likely a number of parallels that could be drawn between the post-industrial decay of the Midwest in the mid-to-late ‘70s and the modern tech-instigated dystopian hell-world of the Bay Area in terms of bleak, seemingly hopeless environs fueling the creation of absolutely whacked-out genius art, so I wouldn’t be surprised if future obscuro-punk scholars view this single through the same lens as Northeast Ohio’s weirdest proto-punk artifacts in 15 or 20 years. Four stripped-down, economical barn burners with a melodic knack tangled up in trebly, pinned-in-the-red guitar lines, anxiety-tinged vocals, and just a little stop/start post-punk choppiness, including an ace cover of the LEAVES’ classic Nuggets-backed garage-rock stomper “Too Many People.” (Goodbye Boozy, soundcloud.com/goodbye-boozy-records)