#i wrote THREE john dory x readers

[plutrolls]

you're already a trolls fan, draw the selfship art man.

outfit ref below the cut

[brights-place]

hiii!! could i request platonic brozone with a sibling reader who makes "kawaii metal" music (kind of like babymetal, if u wna look into it!)

basically they were the overlooked one of the siblings, weren't in brozone and when they all split up reader took their leave and began make metal/rock music !! maybe they reconnected with branch during the world tour and have kept in contact since? they didnt go on the adventure to save floyd (werent there for the wedding) but just the shinanigans that ensue when everyone is back together? angst with a fluff ending maybe?

Brozone with an Kawaii Metal! Sibling

Pairing: Brozone X S/O (Platonic)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing

A/N: OKAY I LOVE BABY METAL I VIBE TO IT SOMETIMES! DUDE ITS SO COOL AND THEIR OUTFITS ARE SO AMAZING! also I didn't highlight who was speaking cause I wrote this at 2:00am so sorry honey!

Your E/c eyes darted around the room after the mishap of what had happened on the Brozone stage every single do of your siblings were fighting except for branch who you quickly covered his ears before you shouted at them to stop which they didn’t listen at all bringing you into the argument aswell causing you tog get mad.

It was known in the family that you were overlooked for being the only girl and not the best singer or dancer like your brothers or any other pop troll so you were mainly shunned to the side. You were close to cursing out John Dory but was cut off by the male leaving the pod with an grappling hook while Clays and Bruce separated aswell as Your eyes glared at the three who had left to their rooms before glancing towards Floyd who gave the tow an guilty look as You scoffed leaving the pod to take breath of fresh air. Floyd stepped out before sitting beside you on the tree branch you were sitting on frowning as Floyd spoke "(name...)" you glanced behind him as he placed an hand on your shoulder "Take care of branch..." Your eyes glanced towards him "You better come back cause I'll be leaving soon" Floyd nodded slowly as you stood up and entered the pod hugging Branch who was confused before Branch whispered to you "are they coming back?" You glanced towards Branch and towards your grandma rosie puff who sighed "Yeah... it normal to happen" grandma rosie puff said walking over joining the hug as days later grandma rosie puff panicked when realizing They ACUTALLY LEFT. For the past years you helped your family before you had to go when branch was just 9 years old when you told him you were leaving he hugged you as you left the pod thanking grandma rosie and told Branch goodbye. How long had it been? 17? years since you left while it was 20 years for your Older brothers...

You stood on a stage with a bright smile as you moved around singing the lights focusing on you and your outfit which was a mix of bright and cheerful colors, with lots of pink and purple hues. Black accents are used to create a bold contrast.

The top was a crop top with lace up details on the sides, and it's in a pastel pink tone. The sleeves have loose ruffles to create a playful vibe. The skirt has a high waisted design, and is in a dark purple hue. It has several layers of ruffles, and is cut in a tiered shape yet there were slight metal like designs for example the spikes around the girls wrists and her studded belt that was held with her skirt.

You soon posed finishing your song panting looking into the crowd to see branch who stood beside a pink girl troll and Queen Barb as you squealed seeing the girl “Barbie-chan!” You teased tackling Barb in a hug as she groaned you still rembering the nickname you gave her when you caught her singing barbie in the middle of the night before glancing to Poppy nodding towards her in a greeting as she squealed "Hi! Im poppy! Barb has told us so much bout you! this is my boyfriend-" you caught Poppy off with speaking up "branch..." you teared up slightly covering your mouth as branch stared at you with wide eyes "(name)" You walked over cupping his face "You've grown so much little bro" you hugged him tightly as Poppy stared with wide eyes confused "YOU HAVE A SISTER?!" "It isn't that big of a deal-" "IT IS! OMG I HAVEN'T MET YOU! THIS IS SO AMAZING!" Poppy squealed hugging you again as you laughed patting Poppy is back "Its good to know someone took care of him when We- I was gone" You said making eye contact with branch who gave a weak smile towards you as you gave a sad look.

He filled you in what you missed and you cried but soon you reconnected next thing you knew a few months later you got sick so you couldn’t attend Bridgette and king gristles wedding but told branch and poppy to scrapbook it for you which poppy agreed to so much while branch hugged you goodbye.

You were informed by Barb, the others that Poppy and branch were on adventure which you were sad about but loved for them to bond more cause you what’s dot be an Auntie so bad!

Currently you were on stage jamming out singing at Volcano rock city branch saying he has to show me while poppy shouted that it was a surprise for you which you were excited about. While you were on stage your dress bouncing where you danced around singing as Trolls who enjoyed your ‘baby metal’ themed singing along as a group of five trolls stared at you on your stage with shock well 4/5 since branch was cheering

You made eye contact with him raising your Handel wave at your younger brother before freezing entirely when seeing four others that had left you with branch and grandma a bubbling feeling rising in your chest your grip on troubled tightening as you finished the song before leaving stage heading into your dressing room holding your head in your hands

You stood in front of your dressing room mirror panting as your heart raced slightly. You'd just been singing on stage when you noticed out of the corner of your eye you'd seen your OTHER four brothers in the crowd. They'd left you and Branch all those years ago, and now here they were watching you perform. As you stumbled into the dressing room, your head was swirling with a mix of emotions. You could feel the anger and hurt rising up in your chest, threatening to boil over.

As you sit in the dressing room your mind churns with conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to burst out and confront them right then and there to demand explanations and reparations for leaving you and Branch behind for you to be the one with your grandomther to take care of him but another part of you hesitated... It had been twenty long years since you'd last seen them and a lot had changed. Perhaps they had also grown and matured and there was a chance for reconciliation and forgiveness.

A shaky breath past your lips for a moment as you hesitantly stepped out of the dressing room you were greeted by your older four siblings who stood waiting. Your eyes widened at their stances they looked nervous and guilty avoiding eye contact as they shuffled their feet awkwardly mostly John Dory as you took a moment to eye them silently as you were taking note of the slight changes in their appearances and demeanor. John Dory had slighter blue skin then back then when you were young his forest green hair with black eyebrows, his eyes are cyan and black, and a purple indigo nose. He wears this shirt in his torso, a brown and white plush collared vest with brown polka dots on his collars, green ripped shorts, and he is barefoot. His fingerless glove is brown, and a pair of goggles with magenta lenses and a lime green frame. The others changed alot to Spruce had the same slighter blue skin. Lucious purple hair with eyebrows, his eyes are black, and a purple nose. He is seen wearing his shirt with a black and white feather necklace around his neck, a black and white short-sleeved open jacket with scales on it, white roped shorts Clay's pale teal skin was normal yet now he had lime green hair that are from dark teal eyebrows his eyes are blue, and a blue nose. He wears a dark green romper with a green diamond and white outlines, lime green and white stripes bracelets. While your last brother floyd looked away making slight eyecontact with you as you paused pursing your lips for a slight moment Floyd was the last to stare at and how much he had changed from back in the day same skin tone as the rest and his usual dark magenta pink hair and eyebrows, his eyes are purple, and wears a black pearl earring on his right ear. Half of his hair is twisted around his head and partly covers the left side of his face. He is shirtless and has black ripped shorts and a large belt-buckle wrapped around his waist You stared at them you felt out of place when branch grinned motioning you to step forward as you eyed them before speaking "What are you doing here?" you questioned crossing your arms defensively as you surveyed your other siblings as branch patted your shoulder.

The four of them averted their gazes awkwardly shifting their weight and avoiding eye contact. John Dory in particular looked the most guilty he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say. "We wanted to talk," he finally blurted out, his eyes darting up to meet yours before quickly looking away again. You hesitantly nodded, your arms still crossed tightly across your chest. Your eyes flicked between the four of them, taking in their nervous expressions. "Go on" you said gesturing for them to speak voice steady but cold. "Talk" Before you knew it your older brothers were hugging you babbling apologies as you panicked slightly as branch also felt awkward when wrapped around in the group hug with you as you paused "WHOA WHOA! Chill out!" You said scratching your cheek nervously. Maybe you might have missed them abit... your older brothers were the best... yet you still held them leaving you against them proudly now being able to do things to them in return which caused you and Branch to cause some chaos

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[mimizficsz]

Just you and me: John Dory x Reader

A/N: This takes place before the whole Floyd got captured situation. I honestly don't know what type this is- Headcanons? Scenarios?? We'll just go with scenarios.

- * - + 🩷🩵 + - * -

Living with JD is chaotic and fun. Romantic? Maybe not. Nevertheless, it was still really nice to make some sweet memories with your loved one.

Every morning, you were greeted by the blinding light of the sun. John was by your side, sleeping deeply. You did what you'd usually do, get ready for the day, rinsing your face and combing your hair. Then right after, make coffee and breakfast for the two of you. JD would wake up a few minutes later, with his messy hair and sleepy expression.

"Good morning, Love." You'd smile at him, as he lazily makes his way to the bathroom. "Good morning.."

Later on, joining you, Kissing your cheek before sitting down to dig in.

In rainy weathers, the two of you would cuddle up on the bed. Blankets surrounding both bodies while you held each other, staring outside of the window watching rain fall. Some days John would even pull you into slow dancing. He'd play a song fit for the mood on the record player,

"Come on, Babe! Dance with me!" He'd say with the bright smile he wears on his face. You'd repeatedly refuse, until he drags you out of the couch and guides your body slowly. "Like this.. Just like that! Great job, Hun."

Or the other times, you'd share songs back and forth. Although, most of it is just him blabbering about the songs he made back in his brozone days, then it turns into how he made the songs, to sharing memories of his childhood with his brothers. He's always such a talker and sometimes it does get annoying mostly because he forgets to listen to you, but you have to admit, it's adorable when he gets lost in thought and keeps talking for hours on end. He follows you around while you clean or make dinner, talking and bragging about his popularity back in the day, all giddy and excited to share it to you, not even caring if he repeats the same stories.

Although not often, Fights would still happen. And every damn time, in the middle of arguing, He'd always stop the arguements by kissing you once, twice, three times, however many he needs to just to get you to stop. Of course you'll talk about it a day after, and apologize.

He wrote a song for you, all about you, how amazing and beautiful you are, for your anniversary. Started freaking out a few hours after making it because he thought it was too much of a small gesture for such a big and memorable event. When he saw that you got him something and he came up empty handed, he eventually brought up that he rececntly made a song but later on scrapped it.

"Happy anniversary, my love!" You smiled at him, handing him the special item you got for him. "Happy anniversary to you too babe.." He stared at it and awkwardly chuckled before scratching the back of his head and speaking again, "I don't really know how to say this but uh.. Okay listen, So at first, I knew exactly what to get...- But then I thought it was too much of a small gesture so I scrapped that idea.." He took a deep breathe in before grabbing the crumpled piece of paper and opening it. "I made you a song-"

"YOU DID?!"

JD would chuckle before playing the song for you. For him, it doesn't seem like an "anniversary worthy" gift, but to you, it was the second best gift there is, because nothing beats being with him more than anything.

Just you, and John, and that was more than enough. (Except Rhonda is here).

[ssttitdramon]

Tax The Rich [alternative title: Out]

Ramón Morales x Reader

Request from @im-just-babey: Hey bro, could I request a Ramón x reader where the reader has a wealthy but shit family.

-Rules for requests can be found here-

Word Count: 2,046

Note: For a while the only thing I had for this fic was “tax the rich” so that’s the title now. Also, you may have been expecting something where they’re rebellious and it’s all a big huge middle finger to the stuck up wealthy family, but uh it’s been a while since I wrote some spooky fuckery -since Ham Sandwich Boys- so I took the liberty of leaning more towards that. Sorry this took forever to post, thank you for your patience.

Ramón scrunches his nose, the house was as big as the mansions his aunts would tell him about. Si nomas vieras, ya parecen castillos.

Looking around at the extensive foyer, he takes in the double staircase and stained glass ceiling piece above him, he doesn’t feel right. Stepping foot into the lavish home was a mistake. Ramón needed to be on the road again, not letting himself get distracted by whatever this was. 

He’s not gonna tell you that, of course. Something told him to follow along with your eager eyes and smile.

“Well, what do ya think?” you ask as you jump on the first step of the left staircase. Ramón smiles and takes another look at the “french polish” you had mentioned on the staircase railing, whatever that meant. 

“It’s… a lot, but it’s nice.” he responds dryly and laughs at the unimpressed look on your face.

“You would hate listening to the guy that designed this house,” you begin to walk up the stairs as you imitate ol’ John, “Ah yes, I told Doris myself that the finishing Italian light oak stain would not be proper for the west study. Why, it would clash terribly with the evening sunset.” sending you two into a fit of giggles until you hear footsteps upstairs.

Ramón steps back from the stairs, “You sure no one's home? I don't want any trouble and I should get going anyway.”

You were confused too, your parents have been out for a week and the maids were given the weekend off, “No, I thought everyone would be out by today.” you respond, peeking at the empty hall upstairs. Even your siblings had planned a small trip to the beach for a couple of days without you.

Suddenly, you see your younger sister walk out of her bedroom, “And who’s that? Does dad know you’ve got a little friend here or should I tell him?” she snickers.

You roll your eyes, “Go ahead, I’ll join you and together we’ll see what he thinks about your secret powder stash you’ve got in your room.” you snap back, glaring at her as she descends from the right staircase.

“Fine,” she scowls and takes a quick look at Ramón before leaving, “but you better take out the trash while we’re out.” 

Ramón’s face gives away his discomfort and as you begin to apologize for your sister’s rude comment you hear a loud thud above you. “Did you hear that?” you ask him. You could’ve sworn the two of you would be alone by now. Another muffled thud, still somewhat louder than the first. 

“C’mon.” you wave him over. The two of you walk through two hallways and another flight of stairs, reaching the third floor living room. Then you hear it again, something shuffling from the attic, “Great.” you sigh.

Sharing an anxious look with Ramón, you pull down the squeaky attic ladder and stare into the darkness. "I haven’t been up there in a while.” you whisper, “It’s been under construction since the beginning of the year.” The attic was being remodeled as a space for you and your siblings, a plan agreed by everyone before they all started being complete assholes.

Ramón begins to climb up the ladder, "How many rooms do you really need?" he jokes and reaches for the temporary light switch on the floor beside the opening. He takes note of the iron set of lights over the double pool tables, the dark leather couches, the soft bearskin rug and a tall bookshelf that extended across the east wall, interrupted in the middle. The attic was half finished, but there was no sign of a recent disturbance. “Nothing’s up here.” he tells you.

You warily climb up the ladder, stand over the hardwood floor and look around. “They told me renovation was to be completed next month,” you eye down the dark unfinished half of the attic, “It had stopped a few weeks ago due to a ‘change of plans'.” you form air quotes with your fingers. You walk underneath the overhead attic light and listen to its strange buzz.

Ramón walks around one of the pool tables, rolling the cue ball under his palm, "What's that over there?" he points at the far corner of the unfinished half. The corner had boxes piled one on top of the other, held in place by bricks and several wood planks leaning against the pile.

You shrug, "The small closet, it might still be there behind all the junk."

Suddenly, you hear heavy breathing behind your right ear, making you both whip around as you slowly get closer to Ramón. You see nothing. Still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched.

"You uh, forgetting to tell me your house might be haunted?"

"Shit, I- no." you stammer, he raises his eyebrows. "I don't know, okay? I've been having weird dreams of the old maid since we let her go about a month and a half ago. I always see her standing at the edge of my bed.” you explain, remembering your last nightmare of Mrs. Clarice. You also recall dreams of another woman growling from inside your bedroom mirror, often joined by disembodied voices that would cry for revenge, curses and to be “let out”. You never understood the pain and anger in their words, until now as you stand on the other side of the tiny door. The tiny door anyone could just seal and forget about...

"Let her go?" Ramón interrupts your thought process, "Got any clue where she went?" 

"Well, my parents had also fired two other maids after her and they never told us why, nor did I think much about her absence until I began to have the nightmares.” you explain, panicking at the thought of what really happened to the three women. “Shit, you don’t think my parents-” you can’t bring yourself to finish your question as you begin to hyperventilate. Your head runs wild with possibilities of the women’s fate and what the closet could be hiding from the world.

You notice Ramón stand in front of you, blocking your view of the corner. He takes your shaky hands and asks you to slowly breathe in and out. “For all we know, those women are probably fine and you’ve just got a family of rabid raccoons holed up in there.” he suggests.

“What about my nightmares? She tries talking to me and I hear other voices. She seems like she’s angry and crying for something, like she’s hurt or-” 

“Trapped?”

You wipe tears away from your eyes, glance at the pile behind him and nod, “I might find her or something there.”

His silence is alarming and you turn to look at him, expecting an annoyed glare for dragging him into the situation. Instead, he turns around and takes a few steps back. You hear a floorboard creak under Ramón's foot, which somewhat prompts another thump from the boxes. Along with the buzzing of the overhead light that grows loud and erratic now.

Ramón turns to you wide eyed and as he’s about to speak, there’s another thump and a plank falls. Your heart begins to pound against your chest and you begin to hear a faint voice in your head, one of the few from your nightmares. “Out. I need out. Out. Out. Let me out.” 

You feel an invisible pull from the corner, sensing the voice in your head calling for you from underneath the pile. Suddenly, you feel Ramón grab your elbow, "Wait, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get closer."

"Someone is in there, behind all that. I can feel it." your eyes begin to sting, but you refuse to look away from the pile. 

Ramón feels it too, there is someone else in the attic. Their presence heavy on his shoulders, pressing on the back of your necks. Angry. Demanding. He knows that they, whoever they are, is not going let either of you leave now. 

"Fine, but we gotta be careful about this." he sighs and reaches for a long hammer inside an abandoned toolbox by the wall.

The two of you walk closer and hear ragged breathing from under the mess. He pokes one of the bottom boxes with the end of the hammer, but nothing moves. Your shaky hands begin to gently remove the planks and bricks. In silence. One by one. Ramón takes two boxes off from the top, surprised by their weight and opens both to find them full of sand. He attempts to push one of the larger boxes at the bottom, but it seems too heavy to move with one arm alone. 

“Someone’s definitely been hiding something in there.” he points out, “Do you still wanna dig through this?” 

You can still hear the voice ring inside your head, “Out. Out. Out.”

“No, I don’t,” you shake your head, “but we also can’t leave this, can we?”

He hums in agreement and the two of you continue moving the rest of the boxes. One by one as you remove the boxes, you notice an awful smell. Ramón notices as well and he asks again if you’d like to continue. 

You don’t, but you grab another box. 

You just want to get this over with. 

You grab another box. 

You just want the angry hissing in your head to be gone now.

Finally, you get to the bottom, the two of you work together to remove the remaining bulk. Once the last box in front of the small door budges, a pungent smell seeps out. You gag and Ramón begins to cough.

“Yup, there’s a dead body in there.” he declares and covers his nose with his jacket. He was right, any remaining hope you had of finding something else is gone now. 

You turn to look at him, “I’m sorry,” you cough, “just wanted to show you around and hang out. Not discover a fuckin’ body in my attic.” you give the box a kick.

Ramón smirks under his jacket, or maybe it’s a grimace; nevertheless, he wiggles his eyebrows, “It’s alright, just another casual hang out with a brat inside their castle. The usual.”

You laugh and shake your head, “You haven’t even seen our giant kitchen.” you quip. 

Thanks to Ramón, you feel numb, or rather prepared for the other side of the door. Sure, you barely met the guy only this morning and you’re on the brink of discovering what could be a corpse in your own home, but you feel like you can trust him. He could’ve left you to face this on your own, especially when he’s been itching to leave, yet he’s sticking around. You believe he’s simply interested enough to stay, but the concern in Ramón’s eyes tells you otherwise. He’s choosing to stay and face whatever is on the other side of the door with you.

“Alright, if anything jumps out, grab the hammer.” you bury your nose into your sweater, knowing it may not even mask the foul odor, but it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway.

On the count of three, you and Ramón push the last box away. The closet door is worn down and bits of the wooden panel in the middle stick out from the inside. You grab a nearby flashlight, turn it on and slowly open the door. The voice in your head dies down with a final “OUT.” and the buzzing of the overhead attic light stops.

Sure enough, you’re met with a swarm of flies, several maggots and three figures wrapped inside what used to be white sheets. The smell is overpowering and although you feel the urge to run from this, your eyes are drawn to the holes made at the mouths that have been cracked wide open, fear frozen in time. Above them each are two black circles, oozing dark liquid from underneath the sheets. 

You hear Ramón gag and you open your mouth to scream, yell, anything. Nothing. You attempt to reach for Ramón, barely able to move an inch. You turn your head to check on him. As soon as your eyes meet, you hear a pop echo from the closet. 

Then, as clear as day, a groan. 

“Out.”

-Feedback is always appreciated-

[daggerzine]

Celebrity Mixtape Party #2 With Bob Fay!  (presented by Matthew Kenneth)

The second installment of Celebrity Mixtape Party brings you none other than rock and roll gentleman from Sebadoh, Bob Fay! Bob waxes intellectual about a variety of pop tunes I recorded onto magnetic tape for him. I envision Bob working long into the evening writing this. Stroking a beard, smoking a meerschaum, brandy glass in hand. Peruse these words, dear reader, and delve into one of the great minds of 90s indie music. 

Track 1. Comsat Angels (Missing in Action), a band I should have dug more at the time considering when their records started to show up at my local record shop and when I was at peak Anglo-worship mode. But they never left me wanting to hear more and then I went back to my Echo and The Bunnymen and Ruts LPs.. This track is hitting kind of nice right now, truth be told.

Track 2. The title isn't showing up but this sounds like TFLU 282. Now the singing has started and so my first guess seems wrong. Very clanged out guitar sound that hides the tunefulness. Miserable singer vibes too. Wonder if I already own this record? Oh it's Gordons! I have this on CD! Good for me! (Gordons-Spic n' Span)

Track 3. Hard to put across in mere words just how great the Soft Boys were at their zenith. And four part harmonies too? And while I think most rock lyrics are unfettered dreck, Robyn Hitchcock really had a gift of the lyrical gab (Soft Boys-Wey Wey Hep Uh Hole)

Track 4. I had some Bauhaus records when they first made their way to Boston but there was so much fashion baggage that went along with membership to the goth club. As their star kept ascending I was taking a hard left away from UK dance music. I came to realize later just how great some of those Bauhaus records were/are. (Terror Couple Kill Colonel)

Track 5. (Kleenex-Ain't You). Want to buy a Bridge might be the most influential record I've ever bought. This track remains a highlight amongst the flawless track listing. And talk about dope lyrics. And you just reminded me about the perfect gang vox!

Track 6. Flipper was another complete game changer for me. It doesn't sound nearly as slow as I probably thought it did in 1982 but the songs still reign supreme. One band all three members of Sebadoh could agree on. (Talk is Cheap)

Track 7. Basement 5 Who won me over at the time do a Christmas song? And it is fantastic? Did not see that coming...(The Last White Christmas)

Track 8. Kevin Ayers made one of my top five debut LPs of all time! Like easily. I scooped up the Odds and Ends LP back in the day and lo and behold; (Soon Soon Soon). Incredible guitar solo.

Track 9. The first band I flat out don't know. Late '70s early '80s new wavy angularity. Farfisa dance rock for the slump shoulder set circa 1981 (Happy Refugees-Hamburger Boy)

Track 10. Boston was a real TFLU282 stronghold for a while back then. I was lucky enough to co-interview them for Leslie Godfrey's pop watch fanzine. Such sweet folks. (Thinking Fellers Union Local 242-Hornet's Heart)

Track 11. Richard Davies what a character! This is one of his greatest songs right here. Assuming you've seen the incredible version with flaming lips from 1995? Do it, f****** pronto. No way I can start jotting down thoughts on the man that is RD. (Moles-What's the New Mary Jane?)

Track 12. Early MBV? Weird 50s style song structure with some fuzz for good measure. The vocals and lyrics are very trad for an MBV number. (My Bloody Valentine-Moonlight)

Track 13. another unknown to me band. A little like a less oblique Giant Sand when they were verging on grunge. That was a good period for that band. Sorry... I would probably dig this in some sweaty club. Well anywhere, really. Would seek out other music by (Hornet Leg-Gold Fire)

Track 14. I love Mirrors. That whole Cleveland 70s thing is the most unheralded thing In rock and roll history. Got to see Mirrors when that homestead CD came out in 1990(?) and they still had the goods. (Mirrors-Shirley)

Track 15. Never really followed Marc Riley's career after his Fall days were through. This is great so I might have to do some digging. Real jittery track...(Marc Riley-Judas Sheep)

Track 16. Another band that I just never got around to in my youth. I like how rickety it sounds but still keeps the song chugging forward. I found their music on Spotify (gasp) after reading an article on them in Ugly Things magazine. Applied knowledge! (Radiators from Space-Prison Bars)

Track 17. Alex Chilton (Hook or Crook) was such a big deal for me in the 1980s along with dozens of others like them. The man could do anything and out of morbid curiosity I had to hear it saw a few sets in the 80s that sure did piss off the Big Star heads!

Track 18. (Rock*a*Teens Down with People)! My sentiments exactly! Great muddy sound and a real desperation to the vox that is just swell. The band lives up to their rocking moniker.

Track 19. Wow this name rings no bell whatsoever. Mid-80s Scottish pop? Post-Pavement Belgium band circa 1993? Flying Nun band that's only on a comp that was never reissued? The world will never know...(Rote Kapelle-Jellystone Park)

Track 20. Really dug the Pink Section reissue on Superior Viaduct a few years back. Solid new wave that sends me right back to 1980 in a heartbeat. A total Gang of Four rip on the guitar solo. (Pink Section-Wine World)

Track 21. My wife turned me on to this era of Bowie. This tune in particular hitting that sweet spot like the Move have a tendency to do. And how in the hell did I not hear the complete hunky dory until 1997? Totally missed out...(David Bowie-Black Country Rock)

Track 22. Lucky to have seen La Peste a number of times opening for whatever UK band I was seeing. Real kings of the scene for a spell and they knew that if you only wrote great songs before breaking up early on yr legacy is sealed. (La Peste-Black)

Track 23. Just got this 45 again recently when a local DJ dumped his 45 collection at a store I frequent. This s*** sounds better to me now than it did back then. It kind of reminds me of a Boston version of the Boomtown Rats. (Pastiche-Boston Lullaby)

Track 24. Talk about a band that screwed the pooch on that first full-length. all of the demo rehearsal tapes have way more than the pro garbage. Never saw DMZ but by that time the Lyres started gigging around town I was all in! (DMZ-Go to School)

Track 25. Never heard the Del Byzanteens but ho! This has some real quality happening on the track. Good lyrics working off the twangy guitar and drums and percussion. Learn something everyday! (Del-Byzanteens-Welcome Machines)

Track 26. Maybe the most willfully cheery Monks number. When I start my stoned ramblings on first punk band The Monks are always in the mix. it's one of the great American stories in rock and roll history and f*** the singing on the end of this song is stellar! (The Monks-He Went Down to the Sea)

Track 27. Opal (and Clay Allison before that) made it plain to see that I was more of a Kendra Smith fan than a Steve Wynn head. Her voice is one of those that are only equaled by a choice view of a heavyweight vocalists like Sandy Denny and oh, you know, Bridget St. John etc. (Opal-Sailing Boats)

Track 28. Stephen, the Clean off-shoot band? Wish I hadn't sold that EP on Flying Nun back in the pre-911 days of eBay. In 20 years I sold about 16,000 things online and still have too much s***. But I digress. Will certainly relisten to Stephen. That David Kilgour just has the Midas Touch is all. (Stephen-Crystal)

Track 29. (The Chills-Dream by Dream) Don't know this one but I have not really heard anything post Soft Bomb so that's my bad. At first The Chills were my favorite Flying Nun band. The mix of morose and pop joy proved to be too much for me to resist in 1985. Wherever this track is from it's got that chills x factor.

Track 30. (3Ds-Sunken Head) More New Zealand shenanigans. I was getting their 45s and such as they made the track to the states back then. I have nothing but fond memories hanging with these folks on my one and only trip to New Zealand with Sebadoh. Be aware bands that own their own pub!

https://www.mixcloud.com/matthewkenneth9/bob-fay-mix/?fbclid=IwAR1ggSwYavA15ln1JHsUmqqR1z4IAeRxi4dh--AAMNw0YdlkcCfDojy3Qxk

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Hyperallergic: A James Baldwin Documentary Raises Questions About America that May Never Be Answered

Anti-integration rally in Little Rock in I Am Not Your Negro (photo courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

When I was in my 20s, I read a piece of fiction that called out white Americans with a broad brush: those in rural counties and in cities, working class and bourgeoisie, all of white America that gladly took part in the murder of black men and women in the quiet of night by way of lynch mobs. The passage accused the people who committed these extralegal atrocities of being cowards who knew that what they were doing wouldn’t stand up to the scrutiny of the law, the judgment of their own friends and neighbors, or even the bright light of day. So they went about their fearful, filthy business cloaked by darkness, and occasionally by masks and white sheets. Up until that point in my life, I had never read such a damning critique of an entire group of people. It was a righteous, insightful, and ruthless appraisal. These people were (and are) clearly poison to the idea of a commonwealth, a civil society. I don’t recall the name of the author (perhaps Mark Twain), but I remember thinking: how can anyone read this and not be persuaded that America has a sickening cancer right in the shining face of every Miss America? Yet, oddly enough, people seemed to go about their business anyway, as if the piece had not be written or read.

James Baldwin in I Am Not Your Negro, a Magnolia Pictures release (photo © Dan Budnik, courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

Now I am in my 40s and watching a newly reinvigorated James Baldwin via director Raoul Peck, who, with his documentary film I Am Not Your Negro (2017), delivers polemics even more brutal. They come through the voice of Samuel Jackson reading from an unfinished text by Baldwin, who observed that “American lives are empty, tame, and ugly,” despite presenting themselves as “fat, sleek, and happy.” The film is a visual diary of the historical moments Baldwin experienced and wrote about, combined with Peck’s intuitive grasp of analogous or metaphorically related imagery that resonates with Baldwin’s observations. The most startling visual transition comes after Jackson articulates Baldwin’s revulsion to the preening, fake, and in his words “obscene” version of human relations one finds in Doris Day and Gary Cooper musicals. Following a scene in which Day almost swoons against a kitchen appliance while imagining domestic bliss with her partner, the film jump-cuts to a series of black bodies hanging from trees. A gaggle of whites look around as if caught unawares at a midnight county fair, with their prizes ready for the picking.

While I could talk more about the film’s astute use of narrative strategies and filmic techniques, I feel the need to focus on Baldwin’s words. In the film, he refers to white America as “monstrous” at least three times. He explains why: because people in the US are caught between narratives of who they actually are and who they want to be, and narcotizing, populist television circulates a story that always emphasizes the latter.

Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr. and James Baldwin in I Am Not Your Negro (photo courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

Most of the time, in my hearing, when cultural critics talk about the difficulties with US culture — the deeply embedded racial hatred and fear, the misogyny, the myopia, the ignorance that seems to have no end — they say, “The problem is … ” But Baldwin rightly identifies several problems with our culture, which has the off-putting effect of making his critique more honest but less digestible. As he points out: Americans care more about their profits and safety than they do about their morality; they bear so much reality getting through their (relentlessly competitive and hostile) days that they feel they have too much reality, and therefore long for the fantasy of who they want to be; the church, one of the key institutions that should help provide the social glue between them, “did not hear or listen to the credo that we should love one another as I have loved you.” Ultimately, he insists, Americans are unwilling to bear the responsibility of their own lives, and because of this deep moral apathy, they have become monsters.

James Baldwin in I Am Not Your Negro (photo © Bob Adelman, courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

When I saw I Am Not Your Negro, I left the theater angry and full of despair — because I am black and a man who has been called “nigger” to my face by my own (white) supervisor on the shop floor of a prestigious clothing brand, when I was the best salesperson they had ever had. But it’s not even that which makes me despair; it’s that long ago I read an articulate critique of white America that was less demanding, and it failed to move the populist needle. It makes me feel that nothing I can do will make a goddamn bit of difference. Look at the racist buffoon we’ve elected to the highest executive office in the land. Clearly, we are nowhere ethically. Obama’s election and reelection were only small forays into addressing our profoundly reprehensible history — forays from which we have now fully retreated. Does all this mean that we have become impervious to critique, that we are now no longer able to mature and become wiser?

In Baldwin’s Go Tell It on the Mountain, a book that somewhat mirrors my own childhood, the mother of the central character, John (who is a version of Baldwin himself), recalls a romantic partner she had before she met her child’s father. This man, Richard, was an avid reader, someone who used books to educate himself despite being brought up poor in the 1950s and ’60s South. One day, he was caught up in a police dragnet looking for a black man who allegedly committed a crime, and at that time, any black man would do. Though he was innocent of any malfeasance, he was snatched up, held in jail, and beaten. He came out so angry and distraught, he could only respond by turning that anger on himself. He hung himself, because he knew that anytime, for any unreasonable reason, whites might just take away his agency again.

Crowd gathering at the Lincoln Memorial for the March on Washington in I Am Not Your Negro (photo courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

The film left me with questions that I suspect won’t be answered in my lifetime, because successive generations of Americans have been brought up with the conviction that they need never understand anyone, not even themselves. How do I live with that? What happens when enough of us feel that we would rather die than be subject to arbitrary violence and the capricious whims of those with political, social, and police power — or when enough of us refuse to move until we have received an answer to that crucial question: why did you need to invent a nigger?

Directed by Raoul Peck, I Am Not Your Negro is now playing at theaters around the US.

The post A James Baldwin Documentary Raises Questions About America that May Never Be Answered appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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