#it's one of those songs that while i certainly had it on repeat in 2016

[wewontbesleeping]

after the 1989 fault i'm starting to see the threads between 1989 and i don't wanna live forever a lot better

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[sinceileftyoublog]

30 (Technically 34) Albums We Loved That Happened To Come Out in 2020

So much has already been said and written about this cursed past year, but a few good things came out of it, including the music. Album-wise, like many before it and many to come, it was an embarrassment of riches. But even with so much time on our hands to devour new tunes, it was often old favorites, songs of comfort or familiarity that garnered the heaviest rotation. For many artists, too, it was a year ripe for revisiting or reissues of old material, looking at existing songs with fresh and new perspectives. Simply put, with so much to listen to, new and old, the prospect of ranking a finite number of albums felt not only daunting, but frankly a bit stupid. Maybe we were late to the game, but 2020 taught us that music should and can be appreciated in multiple contexts, not limited to but including when it first came out and when it was heard again and again, even if years later. The records below--listed in alphabetical order--happened to be released in some form in 2020, whether never-before-heard or heard before but in a different format. And the only thing I know is that we’ll be listening to them in 2021 and beyond.

Autechre - SIGN & PLUS (Warp)

The legendary British electronic music duo surprise released SIGN a mere month and a half after its announcement and then PLUS 12 days later. The former was a beatific collection of soundscapes that belied the band’s usual harsh noise, while PLUS embraced that noise right back, drawing you in with the clattering chaotic burbles of opener “DekDre Scap B” and lurching forward. -Jordan Mainzer

Against All Logic - 2017-2019 (Other People)

The perennially chill ambient house artist Nicolas Jaar had a busy 2020, as usual, releasing two albums under his name, Cenizas and Telas. But it was 2017-2019, the follow-up to the debut album from his Against All Logic moniker, that came first and throughout the year helped to illustrate Jaar’s penchant for combining inspired samples with club beats and tape hiss. Take the way the lovelorn vocals of “Fantasy” or soulful coos of “If Loving You Is Wrong” war skittering, scratchy percussion and cool arpeggios, respectively: Jaar is coming into his own as a masterful producer almost a decade after he released his first full-length. Oh, and bonus points for including none other than Lydia Lunch on a banger so blunt it would make Death Grips blush. - JM

Bartees Strange - Live Forever (Memory Music)

Like many, my introduction to Bartees Strange was through Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, his EP of The National covers. Creativity and shifting perspectives shine through each song’s reimaging, like flipping the coarse, almost manic “Mr. November” into something softer, more meditative. It felt like a mere peek into what was to come on Live Forever. Bartees Strange is a world-builder. Each track on his debut unfolds and welcomes you to a wildly engaging tableau, a fully constructed vision. “Jealousy” opens with soft vocals and birdsong. “In a Cab” is the slick soundtrack to racing through a cityscape in the rain, seeing the blurred lights of the high-rises above as you pass by. “Kelly Rowland” warps wistful pop song feelings. “Flagey God” takes you into a dark, pulsing club while only a few songs later, “Fallen For You” wraps you in echoed vocals and romantic, raw acoustic guitar.

It’s an accomplishment to craft an album of individual songs that stand strongly on their own but still feel cohesive. 2020 wasn’t all bad. It gave us Live Forever, a declaration of an artist’s arrival. - Lauren Lederman

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now (Atlantic)

Back in the spring, many of us wondered who would put out something great in 2020’s quarantine. It was hard to imagine that the intensity of a global pandemic would really allow for artists to embrace creativity. That thought carries the same eye-roll inducing feeling of “We’ll get some great punk music out of a Trump presidency,” but of course, Charli XCX delivered. Through live workshops with fans and longstanding collaborators, she delivered songs to dance alone to in your bubble. Charli embraces the unknown of the moment but clutches onto what’s familiar. Under the glitch-pop veneer of the album, she digs into the anxieties of not just this moment of time but of the bigger questions we all confront: trajectories of relationships with friends, romantic partners, ourselves. Album standouts “forever” and “i finally understand” embrace that feeling of both looking for control and accepting the lack of it. Charli is a master at balancing this. - LL

Christine and the Queens - La Vita Nuova (Because Music)

Named after a Latin text by Dante Alighieri about missing a woman who has died, Chris’ La Vita Nuova is not about mourning a death but instead about loneliness and isolation, post-relationship or otherwise. It doesn’t bang quite like her previous two albums, but it hits harder than ever.

Read our full review here.

Dogleg - Melee (Triple Crown)

Released on March 13th, right as the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Melee was supposed to be supported by three cancelled tours–SXSW, an opening slot for Microwave, and an opening slot for Joyce Manor–and an appearance at this year’s cancelled Pitchfork Music Festival. Listening to the songs on the record, you can only imagine how they translate: the jerky momentum of “Bueno”, build-up of “Prom Hell”, gang vocals of “Fox”, clear-vocal anthem of “Wrist”, and odd groove of “Ender”.

Read “Buckle Up, Motherfucker”, our interview with Dogleg.

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia & Dua Lipa/The Blessed Madonna: Club Future Nostalgia (Warner)

Where Dua Lipa’s much-anticipated second album Future Nostalgia succeeded was in its disco anthems and retro, club-ready beats, so who better to bring out the best of the record than The Blessed Madonna? The turntablist masterfully curates a mix of heavy hitters of the charts and the underground that not only offers an essential complement to Future Nostalgia but transcends it. Sending the tracks out to various producers and singers for features and then adding her own samples on top, she invites you to peel back the layers, enter a YouTube rabbit hole of sample searching as much as bopping along.

Read our full review here.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

Roadburn Festival has long been on my bucket list, and since the pandemic showed me how much live music can be taken away in a flash, when it’s safe again to travel and go to a festival, I may just pull the trigger and go--especially considering it’s the springboard for such fruitful and inspired collaborations as the one between Louisville singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and Baton Rouge sludge dwellers Thou. Rundle embraces the heavier opportunities on the follow-up to her incredible 2018 record On Dark Horses with the ever-flexible Thou backing her up vocally and instrumentally. Slow-burning opener “Killing Floor” offers a familiar introduction to fans of both--sort of what a Rundle/Thou song would sound like--before grunge chugger “Monolith” introduces huge, catchy riffs and “Out of Existence” a True Widow-esque dirge, newfound inspirations for both artists bringing the best out of each other. - JM

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)

What makes Fetch the Bolt Cutters stand out among Apple’s catalog and music in general is the clarity with which Apple seethes at those who have wronged her, whether ex-boyfriends or patriarchal oppressors, and looks to her relationships with other women for peace of mind.

Read our full review here.

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III (Columbia)

For HAIM, the title Women in Music Pt. III is suggestive that, more than their previous two records, their third centers around the experiences of being an all-female band in a historically white cis male-dominated scene, at least one that wouldn’t call catchy riffs written by a man “simple” or call attention to the faces a man makes while playing. What it doesn’t let on to is how deeply personal the record is, how, by unabashedly embracing genres and styles of music that they love, HAIM have made far and away their best album. Co-produced by the usual suspects, Danielle Haim, Ariel Rechtshaid, and ex-Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, it’s instrumentally and aesthetically dynamic and diverse, consistently earnest without devolving into cheese.

Read our full review here.

Irreversible Entanglements - Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

I’ve been captivated by Irreversible Entanglements ever since I first saw them at Pitchfork Music Festival 2018. The radical poetry of Camae Ayewa (aka Moor Mother) is the perfect front for a ramshackle mix of Luke Stewart’s spidery bass, Tcheser Holmes’ weighty drums, and a horn section that concocts tones that range from hopeful to desperate. At their best, Who Sent You? is a shining example of celebratory Afrofuturism and metaphysics that makes the urgency of Ayewa’s more concrete and political words all the more necessary. “No Más”, composed by Panamanian-born trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, is a declaration against imperialist oppression, while the stunning title track flips the switch like a Kara Walker painting, as Ayewa’s the one interrogating the police officer terrorizing her community. “Who sent you?” she repeats, never spiraling, grabbing a hold of the power and never letting go. - JM

Jeff Parker - Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem/Nonesuch)

It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.

Read our preview of Jeff Parker & The New Breed’s set at Dorian’s last year.

Jeff Rosenstock - NO DREAM (Polyvinyl)

Jeff Rosenstock throws us right into the spinning, manic energy of NO DREAM, his latest release from a seemingly endless well of music that never lacks urgency. It’s a reminder that though it’s been a strange year, the issues Rosenstock tackles here aren’t new. There’s no interest in making you feel comfortable here. On the album’s title track, Rosenstock sings, lulling you into a false sense of security, “They were separating families carelessly / Under the guise of protecting you and me.” But reality sets in, and the hazy guitars spin out as he spits, “It’s not a dream!” and, “Fuck violence!”

My image of Jeff Rosenstock in the year 2020 is masked up with “Black Lives Matter” scrawled across the fabric of his mask in Sharpie, performing album highlight “Scram!” on Late Night with Seth Meyers as high energy as ever. It felt like watching someone send out a beacon, both a distress signal and a call to arms. - LL

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure? (PMR/Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope)

I am not someone who goes to clubs. I don’t “go out dancing,” preferring to let loose in the privacy of my own home or a trusted friend’s house party. But Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? makes me think I could embrace a night out like that, once the world opens up again, of course. The album is filled with syncopated disco beats that feel fresh and classic all at once. The abundant horns and strings on “Step Into My Life” are decadent, like light bouncing off sequins in a dark room. Ware’s voice is slinky and velvety one moment, windswept like her album cover the next. It’s songs like “Save a Kiss” that embrace both, allowing her to show off her range. - LL

Laura Marling - Song for Our Daughter (Partisan)

With sparse production, mostly from her but with additions from Ethan Johns and Dom Monks, Marling foregoes the comparative maximalism of the Blake Mills-produced Semper Femina, her last proper full-length, and 2018′s LUMP collaboration. The songs aren’t simple, but they’re succinct, and every element, from Marling’s finger-picked guitars, the occasional slide guitar, and that unmistakably calm voice, sometimes alone and sometimes layered, fits. It’s her most universal set of songs yet, centering around the times when we’re apart from one another but reflecting on when we were together and when we might be together again, with no guarantees.

Read the rest of our review here.

Les Amazones d’Afrique - Amazones Power (Real World Records)

The groovy pan-African collective expands upon their debut Republique Amazone and then some with Amazones Power, a tour-de-force statement of female empowerment in the face of oppression against women throughout the African diaspora. Indeed, the album is more than just songs boldly decrying FGM, though those demands ring heavily. Instead, the group goes further, delving into gender power structures in marriage on “Queens” and selectively finding strength in tradition on “Dreams”. And this time, they include men to stand alongside with them. “Together we must stand / Together we must end this,” sings Guinean musician/dancer/artist Niariu on opener “Heavy” in solidarity with features Douranne (Boy) Fall and Magueye Diouk (Jon Grace) of Paris band Nyoko Bokbae. But perhaps it’s her kiss-off on “Smile” that hits hardest: “I shut up for no one.” - JM

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas (Nonesuch)

The British singer-songwriter’s much anticipated follow-up to 2015′s Blood was better than I could have ever imagined. A song cycle about life cycles--of nature, of lives, of a relationship--inspired by an actual breakup, Lianne La Havas is a contemporary neo soul masterpiece. Overview opener “Bittersweet” is an instant earworm, La Havas’ coo-turned-belt filling the space between classic and increasingly emotive slabs of piano and guitar. Funky, lovestruck strut “Read My Mind” is the soundtrack for the unbridled confidence of finding new love. Yes, the doubts begin to sow on the fingerpicked melancholy of “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight”, and where the album goes from a simple narrative perspective may be predictable: They break up, they don’t get back together, La Havas enjoys her independence. But the depth of the arrangements and assuredness of La Havas’ singing is a product of an artist starting to really show us what she can do. And how many people can pull off a Radiohead cover like that? - JM

Lomelda - Hannah (Double Double Whammy)

What does it mean to title an album after yourself? Lomelda’s latest album is centered around discovering more about yourself while not always having the answers. Despite the lyrical content, the album is self-assured. Hannah Read’s voice feels as steady as ever as it navigates these twisting questions, like the way the world can shift after a kiss. She finds power in softness and reflection throughout the album, like when she explores the mantra-like words of “Wonder” or through a reminder to do no harm in “Hannah Sun”. In a year that allowed for perhaps more reflection than usual, Hannah makes space for the questions that arise out of figuring yourself out, of making sense of the messiness of it all, wrapped in warm guitar, balanced vocals, and steady drums. - LL

Moses Sumney - Grae (Jagjaguwar)

“Am I vital / If my heart is idle? / Am I doomed?” Moses Sumney famously sang on his stunning 2017 debut Aromanticism, an album that saw him developing his acceptance of being alone. grae, his two-part 2nd full-length, and his first since officially moving from L.A. to the Appalachian Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, doubles down on themes of heartbreak, but instead of being sure in his seclusion, he embraces the unknown. The album teeters between interludes of platitudes about isolation and ruminations on failed human connection, and maximally arranged clutches of uncertainty. “When my mind’s clouded and filled with doubt / That’s when I feel the most alive,” Sumney coos over horns and piano on slinky soul song “Cut Me”; it’s an effective mantra for the album.

Read the rest of our review here.

Norah Jones - Pick Me Up Off The Floor (Blue Note)

At the time we previewed Norah Jones’ 7th studio album, she had only released a few tracks from it. Turns out the rest was just as powerful. From the blues stomp of “Flame Twin” to the rolling piano stylings of “Hurts to Be Alone”, Pick Me Up Off The Floor is an album full of jazzy orchestrations and soul and gospel-indebted arrangements, Jones’ silky, yearning voice tying together the simple, yet lush and deep instrumentation. And that other Tweedy feature, that closes the album? It’s a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness, one of many on a record that still manages to celebrate being alive all the while. - JM

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher (Dead Oceans)

Phoebe Bridgers is a master of details. Her lyrics shine when they get specific. They range from the mundane to morbid: A superfan’s ghost-like wandering under a drugstore’s fluorescent lights, a skinhead likely buried under a blooming garden, reckoning with the you in “Moon Song”’s lines, “You are sick, and you’re married / And you might be dying.” Bridgers has always been able to set a scene meticulously, and Punisher arrived with 11 songs that expanded that skill, both lyrically and musically, with her dark humor intact and a fuller sound that includes her boygenuis collaborators’ harmonies. - LL

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love: The Demos & Dry - The Demos (Island)

Yes, revisiting Dry’s demos as a separate entity is still worthwhile. Harvey’s powerhouse vocal performance carries the acoustic strummed “Oh My Lover”, while the comparatively minimal arrangement of “Victory” highlights bluesy riffing, call-and-response harmonies, and layered guitar and vocals. The singles, the slinky and sharp “Dress” and propulsive anthem “Sheela-Na-Gig”, hold up to their ultimate studio versions, too. But it’s the To Bring You My Love material that provides novelty because it’s never been released and more so because it encompasses the greatest aesthetic contrast from the album. From the warbling hues and guitar lines of the title track to the tremolo haze of “Teclo” to the crisp snares of “Working With The Man”, the demos show a continuity and level of cohesiveness with the diversity of Dry and Rid of Me not shown on the studio version of Harvey’s more accessible commercial breakout. (Predictably, the album’s most well-known song, “Down by the Water”, is the closest to its eventual version.) “Long Snake Moan” is simultaneously more spacious and more noisy, its garage blues a total contrast to the lurking “I Think I’m A Mother” and swaying shanty “Send His Love To Me”. And “The Dancer” fully embraces its flamenco influences, hand claps and all.

Porridge Radio - Every Bad (Secretly Canadian)

Is there a better opening line than “I’m bored to death, let’s argue”? That kind of duality is found across all of Every Bad as it grapples with the frustrations and anxiety of trying to figure it all out, whatever that might mean for you. “Maybe I was born confused, but I’m not,” vocalist Dana Margolin repeats throughout the opening track, roping in listeners with the dizzying feeling of trying to make sense of yourself. The band’s guitar and synth sound coupled with Margolin’s howl makes for a dance party filled with dread, rendering Margolin’s already strong, repetitive lyrics even more spiraling. And yet, by the time we get to “Lilacs”, a glimmer of something else shines through as the music gets more manic and Margolin’s voice begins to soar: “I don’t want to get bitter / I want us to get better / I want us to be kinder / To ourselves and to each other.” - LL

Sault - Untitled (Rise) & Untitled (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Yes, Black Is still pulls plenty of devastating punches. “Eternal Life”, a segue from the gospel boost of “US”, juxtaposes a deliberate drum beat with zooming synths, both ascending like a chorus of angels, as they sing, “I see sadness in your eye / ‘Cause I know you don’t wanna die,” presenting the oppression of Black life at the hands of white supremacy in inarguable terms. Ultimately, though, it’s the anthemic nature of the songs, resistant of platitudes, that shines through. “Nobody cared / This generation cares,” says Laurette Josiah on “This Generation”. Whether she’s talking about young people in general or the latest generation of young Black leaders, the sentiment is reflected on songs like “Black”, wherein over dynamic, sinewy instrumentation, the singers alternate between encouragement, support, and love of the self and others.

Read our full review here.

Shamir - Shamir (self-released)

Shamir’s voice is a bright beacon in a sea of conventional singers. Shamir captures the effervescence of pop music and weaves it together with elements of country, alt rock, and diary confessional lyrics all supported by the emotion and range of his vocals. There’s something for everyone across the album’s 11 shimmering tracks. Lead single and opener “On My Own” feels like a declaration of self and self-sufficiency, an anthem of a breakup song. The almost pop-punk bounce of “Pretty When I’m Sad”, paired perfectly with lines like the angst-ridden, “Let’s fuck around inside each other’s heads,” feels impossible to not bop along to. The twang of “Other Side” would put a country crooner to shame. That’s the power of Shamir. His voice has the ability to smoothly convey joy, resilience, and humor. He uses elements of several genres, not just the dance-pop of his debut, to build a unique album that gives listeners so much to sift through and, of course, dance to. - LL

Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (Fat Possum)

If Songhoy Blues’ second album Resistance lacked “the grit of its predecessor,” it’s clear from the hard rock stomp of the opening track of Malian band’s third album Optimisme that they rediscovered their mojo. More importantly, they couple this maximal brashness with tributes to those who make their world a better place: fighters for freedom, women, the young. It’s perhaps the first Songhoy Blues record to truly combine the celebratory nature of their desert blues with a balanced mixture of idealism and vigor. - JM

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)  

How can you find hope in hopelessness, or optimism when every news story points to cruelty? Is it naïve to keep searching for light in the dark? I don’t think so, and I don’t think Spanish Love Songs does, either. I’d like to think we both believe that’s not naivety, but power. It’s the embers you need to really ignite a flame. After all, this is the band with a song titled “Optimism (As a Radical Life Choice)”. It’s a band whose crunching guitars and earnestness insist that despite death and depression and addiction, the instinct to survive shines brightly above all. That relentless hope resurfaces across Brave Faces Everyone’s 10 tracks even as it works through the bleakness of everyday life. - LL

Tashi Dorji - Stateless (Drag City)

The magnum opus from the Asheville-based picker is a group of evocatively titled, disorderly songs about the desolate hellscape of America for outsiders and immigrants. Enigmatic in its nature, not exactly narrative, Stateless combines Dorji’s urgent strumming with moody motifs, captured beautifully in a studio setting for maximum emotional wallop. - JM

Touche Amore - Lament (Epitaph)

Is this what an almost uplifting Touche Amore album sounds like? It’s cathartic in a newer way for the band, especially after the beautifully rendered grief of Stage Four. Lament loses none of the band’s aggression or urgency. “Come Heroine” thrusts listeners into that urgency and introduces a moment of warmth, Jeremy Bolm’s vocals still rasping and insistent: “You brought me in / You took to me / And reversed the atrophy.” The bounciness of “Reminders” may seem close to optimism, but a sharper look at the lyrics uncovers more than blindly looking to the things that bring joy. “I’ll Be Your Host” is reflective, a few years removed from Touche Amore’s previous album and the immediacy of loss, self-aware and growing, but still raw. The album closer, “A Forecast”, takes a turn, a lone voice and piano acting as a confessional before giving way to thrashing guitars and the realization that growth and reckoning with trauma doesn’t mean minimizing it. It means learning to keep moving forward and to stop for help when you may need it. - LL

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud (Merge)

The best album yet from Katie Crutchfield is inspired by positive personal change (getting sober, dealing with codependency issues, her blossoming love with singer-songwriter Kevin Morby) and reflections on family and friends. Named after the suburb of Orlando where her father’s from, Saint Cloud is a genre-hopping collection of stories and feelings that doesn’t necessarily follow any semblance of narrative. On opener “Oxbow” and country-tinged ditty “Can’t Do Much”, Crutchfield’s increasingly aware of the need to pick your side and your battles, whether in the relationship between two people or between the allure of the bottle and the next-day hangover. Some of the best songs on the album see her finding commonalities with others as a means towards self-love. Gentle strummer “The Eye” refers to her natural creative relationships with Morby and her sister Allison. “War” she wrote for herself and best friend, who is also sober, the title a metaphor for one’s fight to remain substance-free. “Witches” is an ode to her best friends, including Allison and Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan, all equally frustrated by the toxic nature of the music industry and the world at large, ultimately lifting each other up because they simply have each other.

Read our full review here.

[starf]

StarF’s Top Ten Albums of 2020

Another year, another list. Let’s not even bother with the preamble this time around, you get what it is.

10. I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME - RAZZMATAZZ

Let me tell you right now, I struggled with this tenth spot. There were about four albums that were pretty much tied once I narrowed it down this far because it was a jam-packed year. Ultimately though I had to give it to iDKHOW for their smooth brand of piano rock-pop. This is their debut album and it brought the heat. While it didn't dazzle me immediately, with every subsequent listen I feel a little more of that promised razzmatazz from the title. I also absolutely love the ballad "Nobody Likes The Opening Band," which will certainly be a fun song to hear them perform some day whether they're the opener or not.

9. The Front Bottoms - In Sickness & In Flames

The last offering from The Front Bottoms, Going Gray, left me feeling a little lukewarm. In Sickness & In Flames, however, is a much stronger return to form for the band in my opinion. Some people say all of The Front Bottoms' albums sound the same, and maybe that's a little bit true. But maybe 2020 is the year that we needed to hear some new Front Bottoms material. It was a strange time for all of us, and in these times this kind of album just hits different. From the optimistic opening of "everyone blooms" to the infectious singalong moments of "Fairbanks, Alaska," this album is a good time all around.

8. The Used - Heartwork

Did you know The Used is still around? Not only still around, but apaprently they never went away! When I saw that they had released a new album early in the year I assumed it was a comeback, but I was wrong! For me there was a 12 year gap since I had personally listened to a new Used album, and this one blew me away in a big way. They're still going big, going hard, and rocking their signature sound - but updated for the modern age. This is a band that has managed to hold on to their roots while successfully adapting and progressing into the future.

7. Oliver Tree - Ugly Is Beautiful

Where do you even start with an artist like Oliver Tree? An absolute master of internet marketing, the release of this album was a tortured and dragged out experience, like a person chasing a 20 dollar bill on a string and having it constantly pulled away over and over again. By the time it came out it was a little disheartening that an entire half of the album had already been released via single, but overall it is undeniably a powerhouse of a pop album and a strong showing from Oliver Tree. A strange character, but an impossibly catchy album with earworm after earworm.

6. The World/Inferno Friendship Society - All Borders Are Porous To Cats

I pretty much always enjoy any offering from this band, but to varying degrees. Their last few albums have certainly been good to my ears, but for whatever reason just didn't resonate enough with me to earn a spot in my top ten. This album is clearly different though, and keeps me enthralled the entire way. With their unique brand of punk-jazz-cabaret, All Borders Are Porous To Cats tells the story of one Mr. Cat In The Hat, and it's a wild ride that you're going to want to hear.

5. Run The Jewels - RTJ4

One of the most biting and necessary releases of the year, RTJ4 dropped right when we needed to hear it most, and for free no less. It's my personal opinion that Run The Jewels continue to get better with every release they put out, and their fourth showing is easily my favorite so far. El-P and Killer Mike come through with some of their sharpest bars and heaviest beats yet. It's just a shame that for how much history repeats we as society still haven't learned some of the lessons that an album like this continues to attempt to teach us.

4. Aesop Rock - Spirit World Field Guide

Spirit World Field Guide is not a typical Aesop Rock album, but then again what is? Back in 2016 I fell in love with the album The Impossible Kid, an accessible (by Aes standards) album that hooked me in immediately. Spirit World is a different beast that took me off guard the first time I heard it, and left me a little bit lost - but that almost seems to be the intent. An absolute monster of an album coming in at 21 tracks and over an hour, this thing wasn't necessarily meant to be ingested all at once, or even in the order presented. The more I revisit it the more I put the pieces together and enjoy it more and more.

3. Poppy - I Disagree

Let's take a journey all the way back to January before the world entirely fell apart. I discovered Poppy for the first time through this album and was quickly intrigued. Going back through her older music, and then her YouTube, and slowly unraveling the mystery that is Poppy was perhaps some of the most fun I've had experiencing an artist's work in years - all topped off with seeing her perform live that month, the last large live music show I've been to. I Disagree is an eclectic blend of pop, metal, and strange curiosity. It starts off right away with the oddball banger Concrete and promises to weed out those who aren't prepared to take the mental trip through this album right away. It's not for everyone, but it's definitely for me.

2. Jeff Rosenstock - N O  D R E A M

Well here we are! The number one spot! You guessed it, it's Jeff Rose- what? This isn't number one? Well that can't be right, hold on. Nope, I guess that's correct. The new Jeff Rosenstock album, N O  D R E A M comes in at number two this year, a fact that will probably shock and confuse anyone who knows me. This is the proof that Jeff doesn't automatically get my number one spot if he releases an album, but with all of that out of the way, let's talk about the album.

In a Post-Post- world we see Jeff returning to a more traditional take on putting together an album, rather than simply rushing through it to get the feelings out of his head (both perfectly valid approaches). N O  D R E A M continues to explore themes of being lost and confused in such a soul-crushing and increasingly overwhelming world - all while attempting to find the silver linings and be optimistic about where we're headed. Whether it's the world at large or a personal journey, this album is an anthem to a year that saw most people holding their head in their hands and saying "please, just, let's all get through this, okay?"

1. Will Wood - The Normal Album

Wow. Just wow. Okay, where to begin? I was listening to a random Spotify radio when it started playing a song by Will Wood & The Tapeworms called "Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!" Intrigued by the style of the song, as well as the title, I clicked through and listened to their most recent album which was 2016's "Self-Ish." I thought it was really good! I enjoyed it a lot and continued to listen to it for about a week. At that point when I started digging further into the band I learned that there was actually an even newer album entitled The Normal Album, categorized on Spotify under just Will Wood, which is why I hadn't previously found it.

I enjoyed Self-Ish, but hearing The Normal Album took it to an entirely new album and blew me away in a way that I haven't experienced in years. This wasn't just a great album, this was one of those musical discoveries where you think "oh wow, this is something I can't live without going forward." Will Wood is exactly what I needed in the back half of 2020 to keep my sanity, and even now I still listen to this album usually at least once a day. It's perfectly crafted in every sense of the world. Not a single second is wasted or out of place. The technical skill is in full display without muddling the pure enjoyment of the melodies or taking away from the overall vibe of the songs. The writing is some of the sharpest and dense I've ever seen, without being undecipherable or inaccessible. This is an album that truly does it all.

The feeling I have when I listen to this album and attempt to get people to listen to it is identical to how I felt about Jeff Rosenstock in the late 2000's, back before he had sort of blown up. Will Wood certainly has a following, but his music is definitely niche at the moment and somewhat obscure. Much in the same way that eventually people listened to me about Jeff, I hope they will find out about Will. Everyone should hear this album. It's breath-takingly perfect.

[knives-out20]

The Impact Of The Intergalactic - David Bowie Opinion Essay - by Beck S.

This is an essay I wrote about the span of David Bowie's career. I wrote it for a summer school course I took last year (August 2021) for a course called History of Rock & Roll.

My teacher gave nice feedback after he marked it, talking about how it was an "Excellent paper. It charts Bowie's progress throughout his career well, and includes significant detail. I could really feel the passion you have about him throughout. In fact, there is *too much* detail! The paper was supposed to be 3 pages max, double-spaced. Still, this is a good problem to have; better too much than too little."

So...enjoy!!

From his early works like Hunky Dory, to Black Tie White Noise in the 1990’s and stretching over to Blackstar as his final album, David Bowie has rarely had a bad album or song- in my opinion. His career has had ups and downs, his musical creations ranging in the way he would pitch his voice and what instruments he would use, the people he would produce with, and the wild things he would say. Charting David Bowie’s development over time is in fact an interesting journey.

Early on in his dreamy career, Bowie would have done nearly anything- or in fact, anyone- to grow in the music world. Hopping from band to band (like The Velvet Underground), producer to producer, doing whatever he could do to get ‘in’ in the industry. His early albums weren’t taken very highly in their times- especially with the ‘man-dress’ he wore on the British release of his The Man Who Sold The World album. Although, this dress was only the start of the androgynous appearance he would soon be known for, over the course of his 5-decade-spanning career.

The 1970’s were strange, to say the least. He married Angela Bowie at the start of the decade, then welcomed their son Duncan Zowie Haywood Jones a year later. Bowie went on to be hopped up on cocaine. David donned the look of one of his famous personas, The Thin White Duke. The same persona with slicked-back ginger hair, a white button-up under a black waistcoat and paired with black dress pants. The same Duke who called Adolf Hitler one of the first ‘rock stars’ and gave off a lot of faschist energy. He said many statements he’d later apologize for and grow as a better man from, which is good- it’s better than standing by then, or even backing himself up and supporting them. David Bowie called that period the darkest days of his life, and blamed the crazy statements on his horrid addiction and deteriorating mental state. The late 1970’s were more favorable, seeing as it gave the world what was dubbed the Berlin Trilogy alongside Brian Eno and David’s personal friend, Iggy Pop. Made up of three of his albums: Low and Heroes (both in 1977) and Lodger (1978). He moved from Los Angeles to Switzerland, then to Berlin as a further decision to escape his addiction (the reason he moved away from LA in the first place). It was in Berlin, of course, where he wrote his famous song Heroes, about two lovers, one from East Berlin and one from West.

Speaking of Berlin, David Bowie performed near the west of the Berlin Wall in 1987; he played so loud that crowds gathered on the east to listen. At this time, Bowie had no idea he would be the beginning of the city’s soon-coming unifying. After his death in 2016, the German government thanked him for bringing the wall down and unifying a divided Germany.

Music isn’t all he is known for, though it is a majority. He also starred in movies from time to time. Being the titular man in The Man Who Fell To Earth in 1976, Jareth the moody goblin king in Jim Henson’s 1986 Labyrinth film (what is most likely his most famous role), Monte the barman in the 1991 movie The Linguini Incident, cameoing as himself in Zoolander (2001), Nikola Tesla in the 2006 movie The Prestige, and even Lord Royal Highness in Spongebob Squarepants’ Atlantis Squarepantis in 2007, among a few others. David Bowie dabbled in the art of acting, and was not that bad at it. He was good enough to gain a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, too. Sometimes it bends my mind that my first introduction to my all-time favourite musician was in a Spongebob Squarepants movie, back before I knew who he was, but David Bowie was never one to shy away from foreshadowing. At least one song from many of his albums would hint at the direction he’d go in for his next release. For example, his track Queen Bitch on Hunky Dory foreshadowed his soon-coming Ziggy Stardust. And the Diamond Dogs track 1984 actually hinted at the Philadelphian soul of Young Americans, which is a more famous song of his, which he went on to perform on The Cher Show with its host.

The 1990’s were certainly an experimental time for David Bowie. But to my knowledge, I think the 1990’s was a time for everyone. He married supermodel Iman some days after performing at the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert, and released the album I named earlier, Black Tie White Noise. It is known to have had a prominent use of electronic instruments, as was his other 1990’s album, Earthling. The early 1990’s greeted David’s first real band since the Spiders From Mars, dubbed Tin Machine. They recorded three guitar-driven albums which received mixed reviews from the masses, but Bowie looks back at this period- as do I- with a certain fondness; “a glorious disaster” he called it, when talking to journalist Mick Brown. Tin Machine is a period I don’t listen to often, compared to his solo stuff, but I don’t press the skip button when it comes on.

Alas, the starman’s career drew to a close as the 2000s rolled in. David Bowie greeted the 2000’s with the birth of his and Iman’s daughter, the beautiful Alexandria Zahra Jones. After suffering a- strange, as it were- heart attack symptoms mid-song during a concert in 2004, he took a hiatus from his career. I say strange because given what I know, he was trying his best to stay healthy at the time. According to my special Rolling Stone edition magazine about David Bowie (released at the start of this year), he was on tour and performing in a really hot arena. But Bowie was sober, and had quit smoking. He was taking medication to lower his cholesterol, and worked out with a trainer. Bowie looked great, and yet he felt a pain in his shoulder and chest, along with a shortness for breath. A bodyguard rushed onstage to usher Bowie off of it, cutting the concert short. He only performed live once or twice after that point, but was set on never going live ever again. And he kept his word on that, unfortunately but also fortunately. Unfortunately, because David Bowie live would have been quite the experience- I wouldn’t know, personally. But fortunately, because I do not believe anyone needs a repeat of the 2004 Reality scare.

I am actually not too fond of speaking of his final years. Nobody really likes to speak of the last years of their idols’ life before their death, so it’s no surprise. Blackstar was David Bowie’s 25th and final album, recorded entirely in secret in New York alongside his long-time producer, Tony Visconti. The album's central theme lyrically is mortality, and seeing as Bowie was undergoing chemotherapy for his cancer at the time, I see it as his way of coping with his incoming death. His producer Tony Visconti called him a ‘canny bastard’, when he realized Bowie was essentially writing a farewell album. Every song on the album is what is considered a swan song, a swan song in question being a phrase for a final gesture of some sort before retirement or death. In this case, death. Over the course of recording the album, David Bowie’s chemotherapy had actually been working and he had an eerie optimism while recording. But by the time they shot the two music videos Blackstar and Lazarus, where he showed off the definite passage of time and cruelty of chemotherapy through sparse and gray hair with sagging skin, he knew his condition was terminal and that this would be a battle he would lose. Blackstar wasn’t the first album to have been made by a musician succumbing to a fatal illness, but in my opinion it is in fact the most beautiful. It’s jazzy, and elegant, showing how at peace he had become with dying.

Blackstar the album was released on January 8th, 2016. Also known as David Bowie’s 69th birthday. Two days later, David Bowie died at his Lafayette Street home on January 10th after living with liver cancer for up to 18 months. Beforehand, he had let it be known he did not want a funeral nor a burial, but rather that his body be cremated and the ashes to be scattered in Bali by his loved ones. His wish was received, and planet Earth was very much bluer and quieter without his colour and wonderful noise.

As I said earlier on, David Bowie’s career came with ups and downs. His mysteriously close relationship with Mick Jagger, his cross with famous underage groupie Lori Maddox, the births of his two talented children, his faschist bender in the 70’s, and final bang of Blackstar in his final year on earth. Through the highs and lows, his career and his music meant a lot to the quote-unquote misfits and freaks of the world, myself included. David Bowie turned and faced the strange, shouted “you’re not alone!” To those who felt the loneliest, he surely spent his career helping those who needed to be themselves, feel more freer and braver in doing so, no matter what they may be when they are themselves. He never went boring, he never went stale, he sang what he wanted and dressed how he pleased, and kept to his word on how much more to life there is when you’re just that; yourself. A year after David Bowie’s untimely passing, his son Duncan Jones accepted an award for British album of the year that was won by Blackstar at the 37th annual Brit Awards. When he accepted it, he made a speech about his father that I will leave here, and never forget. Seeing as it perfectly encapsulates David Bowie’ legacy, and the true meaning of his extraordinary career.

“I lost my dad last year, but I also became a dad. And, uhm, I was spending a lot of time- after getting over the shock- of trying to work out what would I want my son to know about his granddad? And I think it would be the same thing that most of my dad's fans have taken over the last 50 years. That he’s always been there supporting people who think they’re a little bit weird or a little bit strange, a little bit different, and he’s always been there for them. So...this award is for all the kooks, and all the people who make the kooks. Thanks, Brits, and thanks to his fans.” - Duncan Z. H. Jones (February 22 2017, at The O2 Arena in London.)

[kingstylesdaily]

Why Harry Styles Just Scored His First No. 1 Song

Like any boy band alumnus, he first had to overcome radio’s bias against teen heartthrobs.

Late summer is a great time for sleeper hits: songs that have been hanging around the charts for months and finally hit their stride. Four years ago, in August 2016, Sia’s “Cheap Thrills” reached No. 1 after knocking around the charts since the prior winter, getting its final boost from a Sean Paul remix. In September 2018, Maroon 5’s year-old “Girls Like You” slipped into the top slot after wafting around the Top 10 for more than four months, with a Cardi B verse putting it over the edge. Last year around Labor Day, Lizzo finally topped the Hot 100 with “Truth Hurts,” a song that was two years old and had been rising gradually on the chart since the spring.

This year’s sleeper hit is “Watermelon Sugar,” a wisp of a song by boy bander–turned–self-styled rock star Harry Styles. With a name inspired by Richard Brautigan’s hippie-era, post-apocalyptic novella In Watermelon Sugar, Styles’ lackadaisical tune is not only a sleeper but a grower, the sort of hit that sneaks up on you—I wasn’t sure it even had a fully written chorus the first time I heard it, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. Indeed, the whole nation took its time deciding that this quirky ditty would give the starriest, most eccentric member of One Direction his first-ever U.S. chart-topper.

“Watermelon Sugar” is the third single promoted from Styles’ second solo album Fine Line, which was released last December. That alone is remarkable, given the challenge in the digital age of generating chart interest in anything other than an album’s first couple of singles. Generally, in an era when all of an album’s songs are available to be consumed the day the album drops, you need a remix or a special guest of some kind to gin up chart action months after the song first hits streaming. “Sugar” has none of those. To be sure, there was some gimmickry fueling the song’s leap to the top, albeit of an old-fashioned kind: The song had its best week of sales ever thanks to an assortment of limited-edition vinyl and cassette singles that came bundled with a digital download. Those sales got “Sugar” the last mile on the charts, but Columbia Records wouldn’t have put the physical goods on sale if the song wasn’t already a radio smash—“Sugar” currently has the second-biggest U.S. airplay audience—and they knew they had an opening between current hits by Taylor Swift and a pair of lascivious female rappers I’ll almost certainly be writing about in this space next week. So, fair play to Team Harry: They took advantage of an open chart window, a tactic as old as the Hot 100 itself.

As “Sugar” leaps from No. 7 to No. 1 on the Hot 100 this week—essentially switching places with his ex-girlfriend Taylor Swift’s “Cardigan,” which falls to No. 8—Styles scores only the second-ever chart-topper by a member of One Direction. That includes all of the hits by 1D itself. In its five years of recording, from 2011 through 2015, the band never scored a Hot 100 No. 1. This despite topping the Billboard 200 album chart with its first four studio albums, the only group in history to launch a career with that haul. So … what was that other 1D-affiliated Hot 100–topper I mentioned? It was by ex-member Zayn Malik, the only member to break from the crew while it was still active. Zayn’s smoldering, Weeknd-esque boudoir jam “Pillowtalk” debuted at No. 1—and spent a solitary week there—in the winter of 2016, fueled by blockbuster streams and downloads ginned up by 1D superfans still mourning his departure the prior year and the group’s resulting, presumably permanent hiatus.

Explaining how the top-selling boy band of the 2010s could shift so many CDs and downloads but generate only two No. 1 singles means briefly recapping the fraught history of boy bands and the charts. Selling albums has never been hard for pinup pop groups, since the days of Meet the Beatles! and More of the Monkees. And in the ’70s and ’80s, such precision sing-and-dance troupes as the Jackson 5, the Osmonds, and New Edition managed to generate both gold albums and chart-conquering singles. In 1989, New Kids on the Block had the year’s second-biggest album and four of the year’s top singles, including a pair of No. 1s. But starting in the ’90s, as U.S. radio networks consolidated (fueled by the 1996 Telecommunications Act) and programmers more narrowly targeted specific demographics, radio stations shied away from maximalist teen-pop that appealed primarily to under-18 audiences. By the end of that decade, even as boy bands were enjoying a new wave of TRL-fueled popularity, radio became a chart handicap for them. The Backstreet Boys and ’N Sync had the top-selling albums of 1999 and 2000, respectively—the diamond-selling Millennium and No Strings Attached—but only scored a solitary Hot 100 topper between them, ’N Sync’s “It’s Gonna Be Me.” (Backstreet never hit No. 1: The deathless “I Want It That Way” peaked at No. 6.)

This radio bias against boy bands has persisted into the 21st century. And ever since the Hot 100 went digital about a decade and a half ago, teen-pop’s chart placements have been the result of a battle between rabid downloaders and radio gatekeepers—massive digital sales compensating for modest radio play. For example, radio was what kept the Jonas Brothers from scoring any chart-topping hits during their original wave of teen idoldom; their biggest hit of the ’00s, the No. 5 hit “Burnin’ Up,” sold 2 million downloads but only ranked 55th at U.S. radio. By the ’10s, the same fate befell one-man boy band Justin Bieber. In this long-running Slate series, I have chronicled the blow-by-blow between Justin Bieber and radio programmers that swung from Justin as hit-starved teen idol in the early ’10s to dominant young-adult chart-dominator in the late ’10s. In the early ’10s period, Bieber was a YouTube and iTunes demigod with not a single radio smash to his name. He could sell a half-million downloads of “Boyfriend” in a week and still fall short of the No. 1 spot, thanks (no thanks) to radio.

For One Direction, the chart patterns were the same. A Frankenstein’s monster that Simon Cowell famously threw together in 2010 on his televised competition The X Factor from five solo competitors—Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, and Louis Tomlinson—1D continually found its singles dragged down on the Hot 100 by radio, even as the band sold truckloads of albums. The pattern was set in fall 2012 when “Live While We’re Young” debuted with a staggering 341,000 downloads but could only get to No. 3 on the Hot 100, thanks to its 50th-ranked radio airplay. In the summer of 2013, the slyly Who-interpolating “Best Song Ever” became 1D’s highest-charting hit ever, debuting at No. 2 with record video views and near-record downloads, but at radio it never got past No. 53. “Story of My Life” (No. 6, 2014), “Drag Me Down” (No. 3, 2015)—no matter how many downloads sold or videos viewed, 1D could never top the Hot 100 so long as its radio spins remained limited.

The reason I’m running down all of this granular chart data is it reveals the hurdles both 1D and its post-breakup soloists had to overcome to top the Hot 100. Like Justin Bieber, they had to become credible radio fodder with adults as well as kids. With his early break from the group, Zayn was the first to pull this off. Though “Pillowtalk” debuted at No. 1 largely due to massive sales and streams, the carnal song did eventually become a No. 4–ranked airplay hit. Cleverly, Zayn had chosen a then-current EDM-inflected R&B mode and dropped his debut while the Weeknd was between albums. Other former 1D-ers have had their share of solid radio hits, including Liam Payne’s hip-hop–inflected “Strip That Down” featuring Quavo of Migos (No. 10 on the Hot 100, No. 4 on Radio Songs) and Niall Horan’s softly bopping pop jam “Slow Hands” (No. 11 Hot 100, No. 2 Radio Songs).

And Harry Styles? He decided to make things harder on himself. His 2017 debut album was chockablock with old-school classic rock. This would be like launching a career in 1964 with big-band jazz. While Styles’ fame ensured a big launch for his Bowie-esque single “Sign of the Times”—it opened, and peaked, at No. 4 on the Hot 100, fueled by strong downloads—radio showed only moderate interest. It eventually reached a modest No. 21 on the airplay chart. Later Harry singles like the twangy “Two Ghosts” and the thrashy “Kiwi” missed the Hot 100 and had little radio profile beyond a handful of pure-pop stations that were loyal to Styles from his 1D days. One admired Harry for following his artistic muse—more Joni Mitchell than Justin Bieber—but as a pop star, he arguably squandered his momentum coming out of One Direction.

What has made Fine Line, Styles’ sophomore album, such a clever left turn is he retained the rock flavor he naturally gravitates toward but converted it into mellow California-style surf-pop, and he let his production team—Tyler Johnson and Thomas “Kid Harpoon” Hull—fashion the songs into percolating radio jams. Each single has opened the door a bit wider: “Lights Up,” a No. 17 last October, is lightly strummed beach music with ethereal backing vocals. And “Adore You,” a No. 6 hit in April (for my money, still Styles’ best single), is thumping electropop. “Adore” in particular served as Styles’ entrée onto radio’s A-list—it reached No. 1 on mainstream Top 40 stations and No. 2 on Radio Songs by early summer.

With this beachhead established, Harry was finally free to let his freak flag fly with “Watermelon Sugar,” which is simultaneously his oddest single and his most infectious. The chorus consists of nothing more than the line “Watermelon sugar high” repeated a half-dozen or more times, with emphasis on the “HIGH.” (TikTok users have keyed into this idiosyncrasy, sharing videos in which the “high” gets its own video edit of the user playacting her best stoner face.) Last November, when Styles did double-duty hosting and singing on Saturday Night Live, “Sugar” was one of the songs he performed, and in that indoor setting, it came off as willfully quirky and seasonally incongruous; the song’s first verse line is “Tastes like strawberries on a summer evenin’.” Now, timed for 2020’s beach season—complete with a video filled with beautiful people on the shore, shot just before the pandemic and, according to a title card, “dedicated to touching”—it’s sitting atop the hit parade.

In short, Harry Styles finally has a profile on the radio and on the Hot 100 that matches his profile on magazine covers, and he achieved it on his own schedule and something like his own terms. Like John Lennon in the ’70s—the founder and nominal leader of the Beatles but the last former Fab to reach the toppermost of the poppermost as a solo artist—Styles just had to find his own way. As that onetime teen heartthrob sang, “Whatever gets you to the light, it’s all right.”

source: Slate

[dailytomlinson]

“There were times I struggled to find my place in the band,” Louis admits today.

But it’s often the quiet ones you’ve got to look out for.

Behind the scenes he was very much centre stage: Louis was the mouthpiece, constantly fighting the boys’ corner and acting as chief negotiator between band and management.

“Being from Doncaster,” he says, “I’ve never had a problem with telling anyone ‘no’.”

“There was a while when I was worried I was getting left behind – some of the boys are on to their second album now,” he says, taking a draw onthe first of several cigarettes. “At times, I’ve been swimming against the tide, working out who I am. I was trying to find a way back into the industry, thinking of it mathematically rather than going off feeling and emotion.” 

He’s referring to collaborations with Bebe Rexha and Steve Aoki in 2016 and 2017 respectively, which, although successful, weren’t where his heart lay. With Kill My Mind – the exhilarating ’90s-inspired opening track of the album Walls – he sets his stall out with a clear departure from anything he’s done before.

Walls is about regret, reflection and ultimately, hope, and feels like Louis, who sings in his still-broad Doncaster accent, has finally found his voice.

“I’ve always wanted to be autobiographical and honest. And in the last six months the songs I’ve written and recorded are of a better standard because there’s an honesty there,” he says.

Honesty certainly characterises the album, sometimes devastatingly so. There’s no escaping the fact that Louis, 28, has faced unimaginable pain over the last few years.

“It wasn’t until after I’d written it that I realised how much vulnerability I’d put in there,” he says. “When I first performed it… I had fans coming up to me in tears telling me their stories, and that’s not something I’ve ever had before. And to do it on that level about something so delicate… It was really cool to take something so dark and make people feel like that.

“I had to get a song like that off my chest. It was difficult writing about things that felt trivial compared to what was going on in my life. There was, I think, a necessity to write that song before I could move on creatively.”

Understandably, Louis won’t talk specifically about Félicité. But when asked about how grief has shaped him both as a man and an artist, he pays tribute to Jay.

“I think it’s a credit to how my mum brought me up that I have a resilience,” he says. “There’s nothing I want less than to have people feel sorry for me, so having that mentality has helped me through the hardest of times.

"I’ve also felt a real support system through my fans. I’d always felt it on a lower level, but when it’s something so impactful and life-defining, I really did feel it from them.”

Days after Jay’s death, Louis appeared live on The X Factor to perform Just Hold On with Aoki.

He was clearly in pieces and it was hard enough just watching, but somehow he held it together, presumably thanks again to that resilience.

“Sometimes it’s fight or flight,” Louis explains. “And the way I was brought up and because of where I’m from, I only see one option in that situation. I also wanted to put myself second and do it for my mum.

"That moment was bigger than me and it was actually incredibly liberating. It used every bit of strength and power and I look back on that performance as one of the proudest moments of my career.”

He says he tends not to suppress emotion and is able to share his darkest points with those he’s closest to.

But as the eldest of Jay’s seven children (five girls and two boys), he also feels a huge weight of responsibility towards his younger siblings and hasn’t had any professional therapy himself.

“No, no, nothing like that. That might be down to a bit of Northern pride, but I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders and that drives me. I’ve got siblings who look up to me and I’ve got my grandparents as well. So all those things keep my head screwed on.

“My mum had a massive influence on me and I lived with a lot of sisters in the house, so I do find it easier to speak about my emotions. But I’m also from Doncaster, where to be a guy is to be tough and traditional and I feel like [there are] times where pride kicks in and I just say I’m all right.

"I’m lucky that I’ve got good people around me who I can trust and who I can be completely vulnerable with and say how I feel. Nine times out of 10, I don’t bottle things up. I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

They sold 20 million albums worldwide, earning over £40million each, but the pressures of fame were, at times, intolerable. Louis says they were only able to keep their heads screwed on because they had each other.

“You can never be prepared for that. It was such a head f**k. But we grounded each other so the minute one of us acted like a d**khead one of the others would say: ‘Stop being a d**khead’. I see people in this job surrounding themselves with superiority and they lose the concept of the real world.”

He remembers doing a shoot with the band for Pepsi over in the States with American footballer Drew Brees.

“This guy was like a god and we were insignificant when he was around, which we understood. But I’ve never seen anything like it. Every sentence that came out of his mouth he’d have an audience of hangers-on in hysterics.

"These people were so far up his arse and he didn’t have one good joke. He had no banter! I still hang around with my boys from Doncaster and I hear real stories all the time, which helps me understand the world that unfortunately I don’t get to see. Having empathy with people and a connection with the world is imperative for any songwriter.”

Harry Styles recently said that he never touched drugs during his time in the band (although he’s made up for that since), because he didn’t want to “mess it up”. Louis smiles as he confides that he can’t say the same.

“All I’ll say is that I did my fair share and enjoyed my time in the band. It’s right what Harry said and it was smart of him, but I definitely had a lot of fun in the band. I was always aware of how amazing the opportunity was, but also enjoying the moment for what it was. I lived like anyone else my age – the difference was that I was in One Direction.”

He’s in touch with Harry, Niall and Liam “sporadically” (we’ll come to Zayn shortly), but they’re all on very different paths for now.

“If we all went to a pub tomorrow it’d be like we’d never left. The enormity of what happened in One Direction creates a massive bond and we’ll always have that.

"There have been times when we’ve done each other’s heads in. There might be something I say in an interview that bugs Liam or vice versa, but we all know what each other is like and we can call each other up and say sorry for being a d**k. We’re like brothers.”

But that’s not necessarily the case with Zayn, who quit in 2015 and with whom Louis has had a turbulent relationship since. He was hurt when Zayn was the only one not to turn up at the X Factor studio to support him through his performance after Jay’s death, despite promising to be there.

Then there’s Zayn’s apparent repeated digs. In one interview he branded 1D’s music “generic as f**k”. There’s a difference between making a break from the past and dismissing it completely, and it’s a line Zayn perhaps hasn’t always managed to walk.

“Hmm,” agrees Louis, cautiously. “Other than maybe Niall, there is no one who is prouder of the band and the songs we created than me. But while what I did with One Direction is relevant, it doesn’t define who I am and I don’t struggle to make that dissociation.”

Does he think some of what Zayn has said has been disrespectful?

“Yeah, I do. But I can understand it. We have a lot of situations where we’re sat in interviews and if you’re in a certain mood you might run your mouth. The older you get the more you can tell if these things actually carry any malice or if they’re just a prod in the back. That’s life, innit? Sometimes people chat s**t and that’s the reality.”

He’s not ruling out resolving their differences in the future, but there’s no olive branch on the horizon.

“No, but I’ve not actively tried. We’ve all got a lot on our plates and there might be a day where I wake up and think: ‘OK, I want to right that wrong’, but not yet.”

After being in his company for a while, it’s not hard to see why Louis was 1D’s driving force backstage. He’s thoughtful, articulate, open and self-aware, but there’s a steeliness to him and the requisite pop-star swagger, which doesn’t seem to spill over into arrogance.

And that is reflected in his music, which is heavily influenced by the Arctic Monkeys, The Smiths and Oasis. In fact, the title track and latest single Walls sounds so similar to Oasis B-side and fans’ favourite Acquiesce that Louis’ manager flagged it as a potential issue.

“These kinds of things happen. There are only so many melodies you can write and if you listen to a band all the time like I do with Oasis…”

Anyway, says Louis. He had to make a choice.

“I was ready to risk it, but everyone said we should get in touch with Noel [Gallagher] so we did. Often the industry, and especially Noel’s world, can be a bit snobby and say: ‘F**k you you’re not using this song’. But he was really cool about it, signed it off no problem and although I’m sure he’s not happy about this, I f**king am, I’ve got a writing credit from Noel Gallagher on my album. That is some sick s**t so I’m buzzing.”

Is he nervous about going it alone? “I think I’ve got a good record so I’m confident. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t little bit nervous – there’s three and half years work gone into it so there’s a level of anticipation.”

The most overwhelming emotion though, is relief.

“Because it’s taken such a long time. I’m excited to go on to the next phase of my career.”

[samheughanswife]

Whistleblowers and Messengers. Easter Stalker, Glasgow Stalker and on and on.

Straight up I will say that I don’t condone or support the behaviour of Sam and Caitriona. They have shown a contempt for fans on both sides of this fandom. They most certainly did not deliver the holy grail to the antis. No picture of C&T. No picture of C&T and her parents or his. And to this side Caitriona and Sam delivered what they wanted to be knock out blow. Some have bought what was sold and walked away. Some are ferocious but still here. More on that in a minute. And others are firm in their beliefs but deeply disappointed and looking at the performance from the prism of very questionable morality and integrity. That’s me too.

How was this able to work so well for them. Well that would be because they have watched and monitored this space here for years. To get material and in fact have the play written for them. It was soooo easy. Because on this side there has been an unwritten rule that only the ‘originals, the leaders so to speak get to deliver any and all important news, evidence etc. So it was with this knowledge the dropping of the church diary into the anons of those they knew would react was facilitated. And the beginning of the firestorm.

For those not in the loop and new here there has always been private FB groups and chat groups as I have said before. As a very new participant to the world of tumblr in February 2017 I was invited to join such a group. It was called Hantlers and just about every significant person on this side of the dash was in that group. I later realized that I was invited to be used. But that’s ok. Because it gave me an insight into the phenomenon of who rules the dash. My skill set was knowledge of travel and South Africa, where S3 was being filmed.

As expected the group fell apart because there were too many conflicting opinions after the delayed birthday photo of Sam with his then ‘gf’. So a sub group was established. That too failed and the original group was disbanded after much acrimony and loathing. Very quickly literally within hours a new group was formed. Zero zero. But that leaked like a sieve. Beat the leader had NO IDEA.

Not long after I was introduced to and told of another very influential blogger who had left tumblr and was on another forum. I read all the archives and current musings with interest and thought it filled many holes considering that I had only stumbled into the Hotel California in October 2016. Because that song sums up where I was and many others are too... You can checkout anytime you like but you can never leave” I quickly realized that she was the one who was getting information from solid sources and kept shippers on the ship and on an even keel. Also she had been an original as well.

So in November 2017 a new group introduced themselves to tumblr SiS Brazil. And man did they shake up the dash and the reigning powers that be. From the get go character assassination started and chatter in the back rooms went into overdrive. Because they were independent they didn’t need the ok to share information. They had their own operation and stuck to it. Many many unhappy tumblrinas who did not like the way they questioned and solved things. And all the while they did it with humour and a dash of snark. They were embraced and were the talk of the dash. Of course it wasn’t long before all sorts of accusations were flung their way. Yet they did not hide behind anonymity. The group showed themselves on you tube for all to see. Unlike many of the keyboard warriors here. I met two of them.

So then there is me. I was always a reblogger. I had the opportunity to get answers for myself first and I very fucking foolishly thought for those here who wanted answers too. What a fucking idiot I was. Truly. I held back from posting immediately because I thought about the implications. In fact I let a couple of people know in advance and it became clear that clarity was not wanted. AT ALL. What was important was the relevance of their own corner of the dash. Introspective of the truth I had. That’s all. You can’t have an independent who did not share with the powers that be who could produce ‘truth’ that wasn’t discussed and disseminated first.

Immediately the photos were questioned in a manner to allow disbelief. Who am I talking about. Well the ones I have mentioned above. It became about slandering me and the photos. Because they were furious. For many reasons. I expected it from the other side but coming from within, well it was easy to discount the very truth of the reveal. Its there to see all over the dash.

The point of this being well the vault is still closed by the one. The return to the dash of the original to rehash what she maligned and mocked others about. Same same but not different. Rinse and repeat. But this time it’s different, right???

Divide and conquer has always been the best power play. The messenger gets questioned and maligned. The whistleblower mocked. And then add emotive names to round it all out.

What does not change is that no matter what the past weekend’s events accomplished it does not change the fact that Sam and Caitriona spent Easter 2019 together at the same address. Alone. I have been the only one to post evidence. Everyone else keeps things in the vault and/or casts doubt on the evidence

Plausible deniability is there and waiting for all.

So everything is back to business for all. Queens back on their thrones. Doubt still there with the steroid boast of ‘a wedding’. Antis kinda happy, no definitive proof though. Shippers present and former taking part in the gladiatorial blood sport that is Sam and Caitriona.

Me. I’m comfortable and happy with what I saw.

[mythandlaur]

alright. test of redemption. and also dissonant counterpoint and "are ya winning the tournament son" for good measure. go.

The WIP Tag Game

Couple repeats, but I have more snippets for both of them so it’s fine.

Long post once again!

The Twins: Test of Redemption (old title) - Terraria - 2016

Ah, yes. My baby, and the bane of my existence. A piece that makes me both smile and cringe whenever somebody happens to find it on AO3. A piece that embarrasses me now because I didn’t know “sp*z” was a slur at the time and now I can’t figure out what to nickname Sp*zmatism thanks Re-Logic. And also embarrasses me because I couldn’t think of a better title. I didn’t even think it was a good title back then I just couldn’t think of another one. This story is a specter that sometimes leaves for a while, but occasionally returns to remind me of its existence, and when it does I look on it with as much fondness as I do shame. I had so much planned. To an extent, I still do. It sits in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get the courage to try again. Maybe I will someday, but for now it sits in a massive series of documents on my computer and Google. And here, now.

Randall and Sherwin Spencer, chosen heroes of Terraria, failed, and died. However, a pact Randall made with an otherworldly power both damned and saved them, and twenty years later, with the world shifting more violently than ever, the stars align to see them revived--without any memory of either of their past lives, man or monster. Guided by the displaced and irritable Keeper of the Underworld, who's trying and failing to remain low-key, the two eventually make their way to a refugee town founded by those the Spencers had abandoned long ago. And so their fight for Terraria begins anew, though now more difficult than ever with the Moon Lord trying to hinder them, the land's strengthening corruption pulling at their very souls, and a few key members of the Lunar Cult keeping a too-close eye on them, one of whom has more than a little bit of a bone to pick after a hasty decision invokes the Moon Lord's favoritism. Meant to be a story of companionship and family, hope and guilt, making up for mistakes and facing the people you hurt without running away, and saving the world--even when it's hard.

Okay, big spiel over, you can tell I still love this stupid thing. Have a bit I wrote slightly more recently (during NaNo 2018) of our green lad being outrageously stupid and summoning a boss, but it’s fine because the moon told him to do it, and then the boss screwed off because the cult told it to go and try to destroy the town so the twins didn’t have any support network. Instances of the character’s name have been replaced by [S]

The next orb was in another dip in the ground just before the main cavern closed itself off into a dead end. A grin spreading across his face, he swung practically before he even reached it.

This time, when the orb broke, dropping an odd-looking spear at his feet, the ground immediately began to rumble.

All at once, the gold light he’d been emitting winked out, leaving him in the purple-tinted darkness. He jolted as if suddenly waking from a dream, his thoughts quickly slipping back into focus as he leapt forwards to avoid being knocked down. A great quake shook the world around him, sending his teeth rattling in his head as he tried to figure out exactly where he was and how he’d gotten here.

He—he’d been on the roof, hadn’t he? The moon…but…how had he gotten here?

Another tremor. [S] grit his teeth and braced himself against the stone with both hands, hammer discarded at his side. He could swear he heard something in the distance; the earth turning, stone crunching, the low rumble of a creature’s roar…

The ground exploded behind him.

[S] scrambled forward, but found himself hitting the cavern’s dead end. He quickly pushed himself around to face the threat, and all the blood drained out of his face.

It was a titanic worm, thicker around than a man with mandibles the size of [S]’s head. Its skin was a sickly purple that almost blended in to the corrupted landscape, and it was covered in innumerable yellowed eyes, all focused directly on him with a look of absolute hatred as it rose up out of the earth, roaring loud enough to shake some loose stone from the walls.

[S] staggered backwards, back hitting the wall as he gaped up at the creature. Was this the worm he’d been told about? There was on time to worry about it—he was unarmed, he needed to get out—

The worm lunged forward with surprising speed, and [S] cried out as he launched himself to the side, back roughly smacking into the wall of the cavern. Hammer was quickly replaced with shield, and he scooped up the thin spear from the orb, testing its weight before plunging it down towards the worm’s body as it raced past.

The spear itself didn’t connect, but with a pulse of mana, it shot out a spike that made the worm roar in pain. [S] quickly dashed further down the cavern in an attempt to get more room to move as the worm burrowed itself into the ground, then burst out of the dead end towards him.

[S] quickly grappled the ceiling, feet barely an inch above the worm as it raced by underneath him, then burrowed back into the ground. Another roar shook the cavern, and the world around him rumbled and lurched, before the head of the worm popped out again above him, and its undulating body twisted up to try and encircle him.

Teeth clenched, he used the power of the shield to dash forward and past the worm, though it nicked him on his way by, causing him to hiss in pain and fumble his landing. He rolled along the ground until his head smacked into a Demon Altar, and stars shone in front of his eyes even as he struggled to get his legs back under him. He could hear the worm burrowing, hear it getting closer, closer, he forced himself up and started running without being entirely sure in which direction he was heading—

And then, the faint moonlight shimmering down from the surface seemed to brighten. The worm burst straight down vertically out of the ceiling where [S] had been standing, but it burrowed straight down into the floor without paying any mind to him. Its next appearance was traveling straight up, up, and out of one of the chasms, leaving [S] frozen as he watched it disappear and heard its roar fading into the distance.

A minute passed, then two, [S] listening intently to ensure the worm wasn’t about to come back. Three minutes later, [S] crumpled to his knees, gasping for the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and letting the shield and Vilethorn drop to the stone beside him. His hands reached up to his head, and his face twisted as a massive headache blossomed behind his eyes.

His mind was racing. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he been on the roof moments ago? What had made the worm so upset at him?

Why had it left? And…where was it going?

[S] pushed himself into a proper sitting position, throwing his head back, eyes shut. The allure of the Corruption had absolutely left him, replaced by fear and guilt. Just what had he done, and why? Had Ret been right? What was he supposed to do now?

Ungodly screeching and scrabbling from creatures deeper in the cavern snapped him out of his endless questions, and he scrambled to his feet. He—he couldn’t go back to Rifdale, not yet, so without thinking he ran, he ran until he reached an alcove where one of the orbs had been (he remembered that, somewhat, vaguely, it was difficult to tell) and curled up inside, staring up at the opening as some of the Corruption’s strange mandibled creatures tried and failed to figure out a way through the opening.

Once he was certain they wouldn’t get in, he buried his face in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay there, but if he hadn’t been able to face Ret before…he certainly wasn’t ready to now.

---

Dissonant Counterpoint - Crypt of the Necrodancer - 2017

Talked about here, but here’s another bit dated January 2018, from near the fic’s tragic end, immediately after the undead Fret’s been incinerated by a red dragon.

"It seems a shame to just leave you here like this. You did have so much...potential."

He wasn't sure how he could see or how he could hear--it was something beyond him, now, some sort of magical tomfoolery he'd never wanted to deal with. But he could see Octavian's boots in front of his face and could hear his constant song pulsing inside his head.

"Ah, don't worry. I think I'll be able to get you set up with something you'd like."

Anger flared again.

You don't know a single fucking thing about what I'd like, he thought, You don't know anything about me. You never did. You just know what you made up.

He wasn't sure how he could stand, either, but he did, compelled by a command. He stared at his former friend, who now looked somewhat uncertain and spooked. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but words were something else beyond him.

He could see and hear when he shouldn't be able to. He could stand when he shouldn't be able to. He could live when he shouldn't be able to.

And yet whatever cruel joke the universe wanted to play on him still refused to let him speak.

"Still have nothing to say to me, old friend?"

The anger burned away, just like everything else had. And all it left was a grim, defeated sort of certainty.

His final act of defiance would be to give in.

He refused to give Octavian the fight he so clearly wanted. He would not let this man tease and torment him, control him however he liked and know he was still there watching it all in despair. He refused to despair.

He couldn't move on his own anymore. He was no doubt unidentifiable. No one would know it was him except Octavian.

How's it gonna feel to get everything you wanted? He wished he could somehow convey his own bitterness, but he was frozen. To know there's nothing more for you to do?...I bet you're gonna hate it. You always wanted to be something more. How's it gonna feel when there’s nothing left to be?

Octavian ducked out of his sightline, and then something was shoved into his hand; the familiar shaft of his halberd. His fingers closed around it, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. Octavian looked...perhaps the least bit upset.

"Er, here. I'll get you something better later. Come along."

The song pulled him forward behind Octavian as they walked deeper into the crypt and away from his own coffin. The only thing that made him question his decision was the thought of Maria--his weird little half-sister that he did care about so much--sick, dying, clutched by fever like he was and all because of him. If she came here...If he wasn't here...

But maybe it would still be better, because she and whatever ghosts she could conjure to her aid would destroy him. And then it would be a double loss for Octavian. Something he could never fix.

Give him hell for me.

But he was going to free himself. He would not let himself stay trapped here anymore.

...You win. How's it feel?

The song seemed to grow louder in his head, rattling him to the core, overwhelming him, and the anger came back, burning hot and bright, and he stopped. He saw Octavian turning back to face him in confusion.

In one final act, he gathered up all of his strength.

He threw his head back, and broke whatever curse had left him speechless.

And he screamed.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

Talked about here, but have another bit.

“Yes? Did you need something?” She looks them over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?”

Ajisai gives a small bow. “Yes, very much so. I only just arrived here a little while ago, but I heard that you were arranging a Puyo tournament--and that more than just the magic school students were able to participate. Is that true?”

Accord turns her head, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, though the prize will only be for students this year. We had some...unexpected guests vying for it last time, and I’d like for my students to have incentive to show what they’ve learned.”

“Of course.” They nod respectfully. “I’m not interested in the prize, but I would like to participate if I’m able. I’ve been told I have some skill.”

There’s a moment’s pause as Accord looks them up and down searchingly, then shares a glance with the cat. A sly smile spreads across her face as she meets their eyes. “So, you’re participating by yourself this time?”

Ajisai’s eyes widen slightly, but they manage to recover. “Ah...yes, yes I am. Good eye.”

Accord giggles. “You could say we have a nose for this sort of thing.”

“And we don’t trust mew,” the cat adds, baring its teeth. 

Ajisai turns their focus to it, a hand to their chest in mock offense. They know what the cat’s about, of course. “You don’t trust me? Why, we’re practically family.”

The cat hisses, and Accord laughs again, though tries to hide it behind the feather of her cane. “He’s a bit high strung,” she offers, stroking the cat’s head with a finger--it appears to try and pout, but leans into the touch anyway. They’re almost positive they hear purring. Her gaze becomes serious. “Though I do hope you don’t intend to cause any trouble.”

“Of course not.” A hand over their heart, this time genuine. “My wits are about me again, and that is all in the past.” ...They can’t help a slight smirk. “...well, mostly. But I don’t want to cause any harm.”

Accord nods slowly, taking a second to judge their sincerity. “I’m going to choose to trust you.”

“I appreciate it.” Another, lower bow.

[dailyaudiobible]

12/25/2020 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 8:1-23, Revelation 16:1-21, Psalms 144:1-15, Proverbs 30:29-31

Today is the 25th day of December Merry Christmas everybody welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you. We have worked an entire year to get to this place and now we commemorate with awe and wonder the reality that the Savior has arrived, that God would not tolerate the separation between he and us any longer and He came in person to rescue us. And may we respond with open hearted joy.

Song:

Joy to the world – Hillsong

Joy to the world The Lord is come Let Earth receive her King Let every heart prepare Him room And heaven and nature sing And heaven and nature sing Let heaven, let heaven and nature sing Let heaven, let heaven and nature sing

Joy to the Earth the Savior reigns Let men their songs employ While fields and floods Rocks, hills and the plains Repeat the sounding joy (repeat the sounding joy) Repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy Repeat, oh darling, Lord

Repeat, repeat the sound, yeah

Repeat, repeat the sound, yeah

Let the heavens sing

He rules the world (he rules the world) With truth and grace And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness And the wonders of His love And the wonders of His love And the wonders, the wonders of His love And the wonders, the wonders of His love

Joy, joy, joy to the world (his love) Joy, joy, joy, singing Joy, joy, joy to the world (sing it, sing it, sing it, sing it) Joy, joy, joy, singing

Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing

Singing (singing) Singing (singing) Singing joy to the world now Singing (singing) Singing (singing) Joy to the world now (joy to the world now) Joy to the world now Joy to the world now Joy to the world now, now, now, now, now, now, now Ooh yeah (oh yeah)

To the world To the world You reign, You reign, yeah

Joy, joy, joy to the world Joy, joy, joy, singing

 Even though it's Christmas day, even though there's a lot going on on Christmas day we have a rhythm here around the Global Campfire and so we should spend a portion of our Christmas day together hearing from God's word, which is what we’ll do now. We’re reading from the New English Translation this week. Zechariah chapter 8.

Commentary:

Okay. So, today is Christmas day and I don't know what time of day it is that you might be hearing this. Maybe it's early morning Christmas morning before everyone's awake or maybe everybody gets up at dawn and so there's no time for that and it's been festivities and now you've just kind of found a second to catch her breath. Maybe it's Christmas night and this is how you’re kind of sealing Christmas, ending Christmas before falling asleep. And it's been a good…well…it’s been more than a month now that all of the lights and trees and all of the festivities are all over the place all throughout our neighborhoods all throughout our communities. There is no celebration like Christmas. The world over in all of our cultures and customs throughout the earth. Billions and billions of people are observing Christmas for all kinds of different reasons and not all of them are religious, but regardless, everyone that is commemorating and observing Christmas in some sort of way is acknowledging the arrival of God in the flesh. And there is no celebration on earth like it. As Christians we…we might argue that Easter, resurrection day, the day where it is accomplished is more or equally as important. I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter. But Christmas is a day of joy and celebration the world over, and the whole build up to its brings our hearts closer together in unity. We sense goodwill toward people around us in ways that we really don't the rest of the year. And, so, the world is celebrating today, and we have either got in our cars and traveled across town or across the country to be with loved ones or we’ve gotten on planes. And it was a little more tricky this year than ever before, or maybe people have come into our town and they are with us, our friends, our family. We are surrounded by goodness and yet I know that some of you that I'm speaking to that's not the story. I’ve learned that over the years. I know that some of you may be together with your spouse, but that's…that’s how you observe Christmas. That's all there is right now. Or maybe nobody. Some of you are literally…have nobody today. You’re celebrating Christmas physically anyway, alone. I…I kind of grew up with a certain kind of Christmas. My mom she was determined to create a season around Christmas that she never really got to experience. And, so, it was really, really important for her to kind of build up the Christmas spirit. And, so, I just kinda grew up thinking that's how it was for everyone. It wasn't until I became older that I began to realize, no, not everybody even has a family. It wasn't until I got into ministry, especially ministry here at the Daily Audio Bible that I began to realize when we get to December 25th every year it is tremendous and joyous celebration. The church, the capital “C” church around the world, we’re like…we are in full bloom celebrating the arrival of the Savior and it sets an example and sends it out into the world but not everybody is involved. Some have no one and nowhere and that's always been a bit sad to me. So, every time we get here to the 25th  of December here at the Daily Audio Bible certainly we want to jump up and down and celebrate the arrival of the Savior, we want to jump up and down and celebrate, but not everybody gets this traditional type of celebration. And I’ve become more and more aware of that. And, so, each Christmas day that we come to on the Daily Audio Bible I want to acknowledge that. I acknowledge that this time that we’re having around the Global Campfire right now centered around God's word, knowing that, at least for these moments we’re not alone. Somebody else somewhere is connected to what we’re doing right now. I’ve found that for some of you this is your family Christmas, this is…this is the gathering, and this is one of those moments where I wish that the…I mean I’m so grateful for the Internet because it creates the community that we share but I wish that we could reach through it and actually be together. I guess it was maybe like six or seven years ago when reading through December 25th’s reading of the Daily Audio Bible, and of course we’re reading through the book of Revelation. I’m just reading out God pouring out bowls of wrath upon the earth and all the horrible things that are happening on the earth and earth's people are suffering tremendously because of this outpouring of wrath and it's like Christmas day. And I'm realizing that some of us are having joyful celebrations and some of us are completely by ourselves, and I just…I can remember like getting done with that reading and just going, “this doesn't feel like Christmas.” And I am an introvert and I'm a creative person. And, so, I’ve got a bit of a melancholy personality and…at times…and I can brood and especially if things are disrupted, I can brood. And, so, just kind of brooding realizing that every Christmas always for some reason feels like somethings missing…I don't know…missing. Even if its perfect somethings missing because I’ve felt like that at Christmas at some point or another long as I can remember. Like that…even today. We have festive joyous celebration with our family and we’re having a wonderful time together but there'll be a point in the day where I'll find myself somewhere alone whether I’m going for a walk or just finding a quiet place for just a little while…to let that sink in. And I used to call it like Christmas blues or something like that because…and I know I’m not the only one…and I’m not saying things that nobody else understands. I know that I'm talking to some of you directly, like I'm speaking your language right now. You're feeling it and you don't know how…I mean it's supposed to be joyous and it doesn't exactly feel that way. It feels like something's still broken. It was just a handful of years ago, the year my mother died. My mother, she…she lived through Christmas of 2016, but she passed away in the first couple weeks of January 2017. And it was that year…my mom in the hospital…just really having lost…lost any kind of tethering to reality. I’m running back and forth to hospitals seven days a week, keeping the Daily Audio Bible going seven days a week, run in from the hospital, come into the studio reading Christmas days reading feeling the…the fatigue of it all, feeling the blues of it all, and then reading Revelation and the bowls of God's wrath poured out on the earth and just feeling like this…this doesn't feel like Christmas. And then I read Revelation again and tried to consider it and the concept of Christmas and then I realized what's happening in Revelation for our Christmas day reading isn’t God just so angry at people that He's had enough and wants to destroy them at all. It’s God putting an end to evil. It’s God putting an end to everything that has destroyed us all along. It’s difficult to read of but it's God putting things right so that all things can become new again. And I realized kind of in that year in that particular reading this is what has to happen. This is why we are told so many times that we must endure until the end. Basically, what we’re reading in Revelation today is that baby Jesus all grown up eradicating the power of sin and death and the grave forever and ever. Amen. So, at least for me when I feel those blues kind of come, this kind of emptiness that something's not right I realize that all I’m feeling is the longing of my soul. We are in the in between. We can jump up and down and celebrate wildly for the arrival of the Savior, and we should, and we are, but we are in between. We are waiting for the second arrival of the Savior, when all things will be made new and all things will be put right. And in the meantime, everything isn't right, and we are here to endure and to share the good news and to be a part of the rescue for as long as we can, as long as we live. We are the living story of Christmas all year long through our very lives. It's not how many lights we can put on our house. It's how much of a light can shine out of our heart that’s gonna matter. And, so, no matter what's going on, if you’ve got all kinds of festivities and it's just crazy out there, if you find a moment to just sit with that to just understand this is the in between, that all things are being made new. We are being made new. The Scriptures have told us this over and over and over throughout this year. We are in process. It's okay where we are right now. This isn’t where we’re gonna be 12 months from now. Think about Christmas day last year. We had no idea what was on the horizon for 2020. We were going into this year with the idea of seeing clearly and vision and just moving forward and finally getting our legs under us. And this was gonna be a fantastic year and we didn't realize we were going to face some significant challenges that the world has never really seen before We were gonna find how divided we are. We were gonna get vision alright. The truth was gonna come to us. We were gonna see things as they really were and stop faking, stop pretending they were different than they are. And we got a good dose of reality. Last Christmas 12 months ago today we had no idea. So, in fairness, we have no idea what's in front of us, which is not a message of ominous things to come. I don't think that. I never think that. The truth is 12 months ago we did not know what we now know. We had not experienced what we have experienced together as humanity in the world in 2020. We've learned a lot, a lot about ourselves, a lot about each other, a lot about our cultures and societies, a lot. We aren't the same people we were on Christmas day last year and we’re not gonna be the same people 12 months from today on Christmas day next year. We are in process. It's okay. Because what we read in things like the book of Revelation is, even though there is a profound disruption to the status quo, a complete upheaval of things. The things that are being disrupted have to fall. They have to go away to be replaced by something new. And where this whole story is going is that all things will be made new again. And, so, let's take some time today on this beautiful celebratory day to certainly enjoy our presents and certainly enjoy giving the presents and O the twinkle in the children's eyes and the gratefulness and the thankfulness and the beautiful sense of family, yes to all of that. Let's dive into it completely, but let's also be aware of the deeper currents of what Christmas represents. This is all going somewhere and that somewhere is good. And, so, I love you guys. This is my 15th Christmas day doing this, being here behind this mic at Daily Audio Bible and I am profoundly grateful for the journey that we’ve been on and are on. And, so, from the bottom of my heart Jill and I wish you all a very, very joyous Merry Christmas.

Song:

O Come, All Ye Faithful

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem O come and behold Him, born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation O come, o come ye to Bethlehem O Come and behold Him, born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful O come, all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye O come all ye faithful O come all ye O come all ye faithful

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful Born the King of Angels

O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him O come, let us adore Him Christ the Lord

O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful O come all ye faithful to Bethlehem

[gu-fem]

Is Taylor Swift the Definition of the Modern White Womanhood?

Written by: Julia Zhigaleva

Call me dumb, call me white, but Taylor Swift’s music has been my guilty pleasure for so long that I eventually stopped feeling guilty about it. You guys, I’m not even kidding when I say that I grew up with Taylor Swift – from crying after school to Teardrops on My Guitar when the guy I liked chose to date my best friend over me, to dressing up like hipsters with my friends and partying to 22 in my college years, to taking forever to get over breakups with All Too Well, to lip-syncing to myself in the mirror to Blank Space wearing red lipstick, to trying to convince my significant other why Lover definitely has to one day play at our wedding.

As we grew up with Taylor, she grew up with us – from an overly dramatic teenager occupied with boy drama from the Fearless era, to a hopeless young romantic of Red and 1989, to an unapologetic bitch from Reputation, to folklore’s big sister Taylor who braids your hair and makes sure you don’t repeat the mistakes she made in her youth. To me Taylor Swift has always been the embodiment of the modern white womanhood, which in my opinion is also a secret to her huge commercial success. If you’re a girl and you don’t know a single Taylor Swift song you could relate to, you’re probably lying. 

This to me is also the reason why haters are always gonna hate – if Taylor Swift embodies so much of the modern femininity, the reason behind the overwhelming hatred towards the singer could easily be misogyny. “Overly dramatic, shallow, immature and always playing the victim” – for years Swift has been bullied for loving our loud, singing her heart out and trying to grow up and figure herself out while being one of the most commercially successful artists in the world. Constantly in the public eye, the singer has often been accused of using this public obsession with her private life to promote her music, which was then dismissed as too girly or not worthy of attention – the double standard Swift herself called out in The Man. 

And then we have the Taylor vs Kanye feud, which is honestly on the list of my possible PhD thesis ideas, as this decade-long beef has everything you could possible wish for - race, gender, cyber bullying, mental health, and even Barack Obama. When Kim’s Snapchat stories broke the internet back in 2016, it led to the outbreak of hatred like never before, with dozens of spiteful articles against Taylor appearing online and tons of snake emojis flooding the comments of the singer’s Twitter and Instagram accounts. And that’s when people that are normally impartial to Swift drama jumped in and reminded that not only is the girl completely crazy, but she also never in her life used her privilege to speak up social injustice and remained politically neutral during 2016 election race. Officially canceled and proclaimed dead, Swift was forced into an exile that very few of us believed she would ever recover from. 

Coming back with her Reputation album, Swift literally reinvented herself, burying her most iconic past selves in the music video for Look What You Made Me Do. But it wasn’t until she put out Miss Americana on Netflix, which, let’s be real, we all watched while being bored at home in quarantine, that Taylor won back over so many of those who turned their backs on her back when the Kim drama happened. In the documentary we get to see the private side of the singer’s life, as well as hear her side of the story on all the scandals that followed her in the past couple of years. Swift confesses that she has always felt pressured to be perfect and unproblematic, which held her from ever taking a political stance, truly speaking her mind, and eventually led her to developing an eating disorder. 

"A nice girl smiles and waves and says thank you. A nice girl doesn’t make people feel uncomfortable with her views. I was so obsessed with not getting in trouble that I’m just not going to do anything that anyone can say something about." – Miss Americana (2020). 

I was sad to see that Taylor’s epic comeback was actually yet another attempt to fit into the image of the exemplary femininity, the new little miss perfect of 2020 - the good girl going bad. We see in the meeting room scene how Swift tries to convince some old white dudes from her management team that taking a public stance against the Republican candidate in Tennessee is the right and important thing to do even if it hurts the Taylor Swift brand. But the truth is, Miss Americana is actually Swift doing damage control after being criticised for being artificially perfect, calculated and politically estranged. If in 2010 good girls curled their hair, skipped lunch and obsessed over cute boys, in 2020 they wear slogan tees, joke about straight white men and have at least one gay friend they can paint their nails with. Yet I wouldn’t dare to accuse Taylor Swift of being hypocritical and self-serving with her recent political activism.

“For someone who’s built their whole belief system on getting people to clap for you, the whole crowd booing is a pretty formative experience.” – Miss Americana (2020)

Taylor confessing that she had based her entire self-image on the constant approval and praise from others, hit too close to home. It made me think that as easy as it would be to point out that the singer who built her entire career upon the society’s conventional idea of femininity, doesn’t get to jump on the bandwagon and call herself a feminist, one cannot in good conscience blame Swift for wanting to fit in, be approved and accepted. In Miss Americana I saw Taylor fighting the losing battle of having to be a 'good girl’ in order to stay relevant and successful, yet being mocked and dismissed for this very conventional femininity of hers. Taylor opening up about her constant pursuit of perfection and need for validation in the world of unreachable standards set for women was perhaps the most vulnerable part of her documentary and it is certainly a struggle many of us can relate to.

Coming from a place of race and class privilege, possessing conventional beauty, and being adorably naive in her attempts to dismantle the patriarchy with the songs like The Man and You Need to Calm Down, still, Taylor Swift is the ultimate white girl that we can’t help but relate to. May she finally find her true self and may we all be lucky enough to be able to do the same.

[here4theheartbreak]

Promise (YoonMin)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi Genre(s): angst, hurt/comfort

Written for Printed Melodies at @yoonminficrec

Tags: angst, self harm, eating disorder, trigger warnings, hurt/comfort, getting together, no smut

Summary: Jimin has some trouble dealing with things in his life. Yoongi is there to support him.

Word Count: ~3.4k A/N: Please, please please heed the t/w on this one guys. It talks pretty candidly about self harm, EDs, and other mental health concerns. It is 100% in the realm of fiction and I’m making no assumptions about the mental health conditions of any member - but I know that even fiction can influence us as readers so please proceed carefully. 💜

Part 1: 2014

Yoongi hated doing the laundry. It wasn’t his job anyway; it was Jungkook’s. But of course the sly youngest had won the right to no chores for two weeks, which meant Yoongi got saddled with it.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the members kept their dirty clothes confined to the baskets littered around the apartment. They had a basket in every room and three in the bedroom, surely they couldn’t be hard to miss. Apparently they were, Yoongi learned, as he pulled the fifth crumpled t-shirt from under Namjoon’s bed.

He moved over to Jimin’s determined pile of laundry - six inches from the nearly empty laundry basket - and began to pile it in.

He scowled at the pair of boxers in his hand, noticing a copperish stain. Maybe Jimin had nicked himself shaving. Yoongi made a mental note to teach him the cold water stain trick. He picked up a pair of sweats, patting the pockets by habit. Feeling a bulge, he reached in and withdrew a small wad of gauze, stained through with blood and wrapped up with athletic tape. A sick panic set in. Was Jimin injured and hiding it? He thought back to when he’d been hit doing his other job, how he’d hidden it for so long for fear of reprimand or worse. Young pocketed the gauze and went back to his task, making a mental note to sit down with Jimin later on.

Nearly a week later, Yoongi sat in their small living room, eating a granola bar and scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Music was playing from the speakers against the wall, and Jimin had moved some furniture back and was dancing to the beat.

Yoongi was trying not to care, he really was. But Jimin’s movements kept catching his eye. The smooth twist and shifts of his body, the soft pants of his breath as he measured his air intake, the soft tap of his bare feet against the faux wood floor; Jimin was mesmerizing.

He stopped when the music faded, the room silent save for his heavy breathing. When the next song began, Jimin padded over to the couch and leaned across Yoongi, snagging his glass of water.

“Did you watch?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. You did well.”

Jimin smiled shyly, downing the water and flopping down across from Yoongi. He swung his legs up, resting his feet on Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi sighed, trying to look annoyed. His gaze wandered up Jimin’s long, bare legs until he reached the bunched fabric of his shorts at Jimin’s thigh.

“Jimin, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Yoongi cleared his throat. “Have you been hiding any injuries from us lately?” He tried to speak slow and measured so his tone didn’t sound accusatory.

Still, Jimin scowled. “No. Why?”

“Well, I… I saw some bloodstains and I found the bloody gauze.”

Jimin pulled his feet off Yoongi’s lap, sitting upright. “Did you go through my stuff?”

“No, it was last week, when I was doing laundry. I’m not mad, I’m just worried.”

“Just… Stay out of it.” Jimin snapped, shooting up from the couch. Yoongi sat up just as quickly, shocked by Jimin’s outburst.

“Jimin—”

“Leave it!” Jimin said, storming off. The door to the dorm bedroom slammed, startling Yoongi out of the dumbfounded shock he’d been sitting in. What the hell had just happened?

Yoongi rose, following Jimin’s path. He pushed open the bedroom door, anger beginning to twist his stomach into a painful knot.

“Where do you get off screaming at me like that?” He snapped, slamming the door shut behind him. Jimin startled visibly, looking up at Yoongi. His eyes were puffy and wet from tears. Yoongi scowled. “What’s going on, Jimin?”

“It’s hard to talk about,” Jimin mumbled, staring at his hands on his lap.

“I’m here. I’m not mad.” Yoongi approached him carefully, settling onto the bed across from him. “What’s the secret?”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Are you hurt?”

Jimin shook his head no.

“So what was the blood?”

“I… Do it to myself,” Jimin whispered, so quiet that Yoongi thought he must have misheard.

“You what?”

“Don’t get mad,” Jimin pleaded.

Yoongi softened his tone immediately, knowing he would need to broach this as gently as possible.

“Jimin. Look at me, okay?”

When Jimin looked up, Yoongi offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“Since we started training?”

“No, before. As a teenager, really. It just got worse during training… And a lot worse now that we’ve debuted.”

“Why?”

“Stress, I guess.”

Yoongi nodded. “Where?”

“My hip…. It’s… A safe spot. No one will see it.”

“That’s why you don’t like showering with us.” Yoongi chuckled. “And here I thought you were just a prude.”

Jimin laughed despite himself, sniffling. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

“Don’t be. I would have to. What do you cut with?”

“Just a razor.”

Yoongi nodded, looking down at his lap. He took a steadying breath. “Jimin. I want you to stop.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know. But I want to help you.”

“It’s not hurting anyone. I don’t go deep, and I can still dance, and I—”

“Jimin. It’s hurting you. Don’t you see?”

“It’s better than what could be happening,” Jimin muttered.

“Hey.” Yoongi reached out before he really thought about what he was doing. He stroked his thumb over Jimin’s jaw, smiling. “Don’t do that. You don’t even know how perfect you are. The pain you feel? It’s real. But you don’t need to hurt yourself physically in response.”

“How do I fix it?”

Yoongi let his hand drop, taking Jimin’s in his own. “I’m here. Until you can handle it on your own… If you ever can… Let me be your rock.”

“Yoongi-hyung…”

“Please, Jimin. You’re too special to me to watch you do this. No matter how it feels for you, please… Don’t throw yourself away. You matter so much more than you know.”

Jimin stayed quiet, his dark eyes searching Yoongi’s face. Yoongi leaned a little closer, his heart thudding in his chest. His gaze darted down to Jimin’s full lips, moving back up to meet his gaze, his own expression a question mark. Jimin’s mouth parted when the understanding seemed to hit him. He gave a barely visible nod, the permission Yoongi was waiting for.

He closed the gap between their faces, their lips striking awkwardly at first. They fell into a rhythm quickly, mouths moving together, quick intakes of breath when the other shifted to reposition. Yoongi dragged Jimin closer, smiling against Jimin’s mouth when the other gave in and allowed himself to be pulled entirely onto Yoongi’s lap.

Yoongi pulled back, his breathing quick. “Don’t throw yourself away,” he repeated.

“I’m scared,” Jimin admitted. Their foreheads bumped lightly when Jimin pressed closer to him.

“Let me help then.”

“How?”

Yoongi remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. He nodded to himself. “You said you use razors?”

“Yes.”

“Give them to me.”

Jimin jerked back, his face twisting in horror. “Hyung—“

“Trust me? I won’t tell the others. I’ll keep your secret. But if I have them it will be harder for you to use them. You’ll need to come to me. I’ll hide them. And then we can talk about what’s going on or just sit and take your mind off it.”

“What if that doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll try something else.”

Yoongi reached out, grabbing Jimin’s hands. He twined their fingers and squeezed. “I won’t make you promise to stop. But I’m asking if you’ll make me a promise to try.”

“You promise you won’t tell?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No. I promise I won’t unless I can’t help you further. And even then, I’ll only tell the member you trust me to tell. I won’t share it with everyone, and I won’t share it with our company. I know this is scary.”

Jimin nodded, hanging his head.

“Jimin… When we kissed… That wasn’t… I mean— You didn’t do it because of all this, right?”

“Are you asking me if I like you, Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asked, his lips turning up into an impish smile despite the tears shining in his eyes. Yoongi huffed a little, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible. Yeah, I’m asking that.”

“I have for a long time. I knew you were… More of a free thinker when it came to sexuality but I was scared… I didn’t wanna mess up the group.”

“If we…” Yoongi trailed off, his mouth turning down in thought. Jimin waited patiently. All the members were used to this; Yoongi was a smart man, but he calculated things, and the best thing to do was wait for him to finish those calculations and let him speak his mind.

“I like you. You and I are… Pretty equal in the group, I think. And I don’t know that we would do anything drastic even if this didn’t work. I wouldn’t. The group is everything to me, and even a breakup wouldn’t jeopardize that. Do you feel the same?”

“You know Bangtan is my life,” Jimin said. Yoongi nodded.

“I want to date you.” It was a statement, not a question. Yoongi was putting himself out, baring himself to Jimin and making his desire as known as it could be.

“You do?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Should we… Tell people? The group?”

Yoongi tilted his head a little. “Kiss me again while I think about it.”

Jimin grinned at his statement and leaned forward. Their lips met gentler this time, less rushed. Yoongi pulled Jimin close and laid down with him, their mouths moving lazily as their hands slid over one another’s bodies for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Part 2: 2016

“Hyung?”

Yoongi looked up from the notebook he’d been scrawling in. “Huh?”

“Can we talk?” Jimin was shifting from foot to foot, his hands wringing in front of his stomach. Yoongi’s carefree smile slipped away immediately into stoic concern. He knew that look. He set the notebook aside and rose, setting his hand on Jimin’s lower back. Without a word, he guided him toward the bedrooms, meeting Namjoon’s gaze pointedly for the briefest seconds. Namjoon frowned a little but nodded.

Over the years, Jimin and Yoongi had worked out ways to deal with Jimin’s anxieties and other problems that arose between them. It was Namjoon that had become their middleman, a safe, unbiased opinion if things were too emotional or heated. And it had worked splendidly. Though, even Yoongi had to admit that Jimin had been tense lately, and he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe he finally would.

Once in Yoongi’s bedroom, Jimin turned, shoving the door shut. He slammed his mouth against Yoongi’s in a hungry, desperate kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Yoongi kissed back, sliding his hands over Jimin’s slender hips. He brushed the delicate skin, a pang of hurt going through him when he could easily feet the hit of Jimin’s hip bones despite the musculature of his boyfriend.

“Jimin,” he whispered when Jimin pulled back to breathe. “What’s going on?”

“I missed you,” Jimin whispered, hanging his head. “We’ve been so busy with the album, I’ve barely had time to hold your hand let alone anything else.”

“I know. Come lay in bed with me. We’ll make time to be together now.”

The two moved silently to Yoongi’s bed, slipping under the covers and stripping out of their clothes. The warm blanket and firm, bracing mattress was a far cry from the moth bitten, sagging mattress Jimin had lost his virginity on years back, when they had to hide in closets and sneak out to cheap hotel rooms to make love and get time alone. It didn’t matter then, and didn’t now. Yoongi knew Jimin loved him deeply, no matter what.

Yoongi traced the old scars on Jimin’s hips, noticing the jut of his hipbones and the faint outline of his rib cage.

“What did you want to talk about, Jimin?” He asked.

“Just this,” Jimin said. He pressed gentle kisses over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“May I ask about something?”

“Mhm.”

Jimin’s hand was tracing lazy patterns on Yoongi’s stomach.

“Have you been eating well?”

The hand stilled. “Why do you ask?”

Yoongi shrugged the shoulder not commandeered by Jimin’s face. “Just an observation.”

“Of?”

Yoongi traced Jimin’s hip bone. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Jimin sagged, visibly relieved. “I was afraid you were gonna say I’ve gained,” he admitted.

“Jimin. You’ve lost a lot.” Yoongi emphasized.

“I’m dieting.”

“Hm. Why?”

Jimin looked up, clearly confused by Yoongi’s statement. “Why?”

Yoongi remained silent, watching Jimin.

“Well, to... I was getting big.”

“Says who?”

Though Yoongi tried to keep his tone neutral, he knew something sharp came out with the way Jimin diverted his gaze. “Fans.”

“Jimin.”

“What? We’re nothing without them, aren’t we? If they don’t like me—“

“If they don’t like you they can fuck off,” Yoongi snapped. Jimin’s eyebrows shot up. Yoongi took a breath, steadying his emotions before speaking again. He knew he needed to be calm with Jimin, and getting angry would get them nowhere.

“Look, if they love you, why should they care if you gain a few extra pounds? You’ve been beautiful since debut. Prior even, but I’m biased.”

“You are biased. It’s just a diet.��

“It’s more than a diet, Jimin. Everyone’s noticed. You don’t look as well as you used to.”

Jimin scowled. “How do you mean?”

“Just that you look ill. You’re beautiful, but you… I mean look.” He pushed the blanket down and traced over Jimin’s hips. “I’m afraid if we make love I’m going to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Jimin whispered.

“You understand my point. Jimin… I know it hurts to hear people call you names. Trust me. But their opinion shouldn’t negate your self worth. And your worth to us… To me. I asked you years ago not to throw yourself away, remember?”

“Of course I do,” Jimin whispered.

“Well I’m saying it again. Don’t. Not over something like this. You feel alone and singled out by these comments… But you aren’t. I promise you.”

“What do you want me to do.”

“Just work on it. We have to diet, you have to work out, I get it. We all get it. But no more skipping meals for days. You think you hide it well, but you don’t.”

“I’m just not hungry.”

“Because the thought of eating makes you ill, right? Of getting too big and they won’t love you anymore?”

Jimin’s silence gave Yoongi the answer he was waiting for.

“Well, I love you,” he said softly.

“No matter what?”

“You know the answer to that, Min.”

Jimin stayed quiet, fidgeting with a loose string on the bedspread.

“Hey. Hey, I’m not yelling at you. I’m worried. You put so much pressure on yourself. To be an amazing dancer, an amazing singer, caring, optimistic, funny, sexy, beautiful... Where’s Jimin in all that? You already are all of these things. Sometimes the real you just gets lost in the added show of it. And sometimes that added junk strips away at you until you’re only bone.” His fingers brushed over Jimin’s slender arm.

“I know.”

“You know you matter, right?”

“I know.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise to try. To talk. I won’t waste what I am.”

Yoongi smiled proudly. “I love you, Jimin.”

“What?” A small, teasing smile played on Jimin’s lips. Yoongi rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“You know what I said.”

“No, no, I think I missed it. What’d you say, hyung?”

Yoongi sighed theatrically. The rarity with which he professed his love was an inside joke between the two. Jimin knew he was loved; Yoongi’s actions showed that more than enough. But hearing it was nice too.

“I said, I love you, Park Jimin. Happy?”

“Incredibly. Kiss me?”

“Never have to ask.” Yoongi pulled Jimin closer, twining their fingers and pressing their mouths together. Jimin seemed to melt next to him, tension leaving his body more and more the longer they shared soft kisses. Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t perfect, and the path they were on was stressful and scary for all involved, but he hoped he could offer enough comfort to keep their heads above water.

Part 3: 2018

“You’re not mad, right, hyung?” Jimin asked. His voice quavered just a little, showing Yoongi just how deeply his approval was concerning Jimin.

He crouched down, looking closer at the vibrant black letters on Jimin’s ribcage. They were swollen, the skin red and angry surrounding them. “Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, a bit. I wished you were there… Wanted to hold your hand,” Jimin admitted.

“Who’d you go with?”

“Jungkookie.”

Yoongi nodded and rose. “I’m only angry about one thing.”

“What?” Jimin whispered.

“That you didn’t take me. I wish I could have held your hand too. It’s beautiful, Jimin.”

Jimin’s entire face lit up with a cheek splitting grin. “Really?”

“Yes. It looks nice. They did a good job.”“Ah, I’m so glad you like it!” Jimin hugged Yoongi tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Yoongi chuckled and pressed a kiss against Jimin’s neck, rubbing his back gently. “How long will it take to heal?”

“A few weeks.”

“So when can I make love to you?” Yoongi felt Jimin’s lips curve into a smile.

“Is that a concern?” He teased.

“Well… My boyfriend just got something added to his body that … Frankly looks incredible and… Really sexy. It’s a concern.”

Jimin pulled back, chuckling. Yoongi could see his eye roll without even looking.

“Any time you want. Just have to keep it off the mattress and don’t rub or touch it. Be gentle. It’ll be fine.”

“Then come to the bedroom with me,” Yoongi said, twining his finger’s with Jimin’s.

“No.”

“No?”

Jimin shook his head. His hair fell in front of his eyes, making him look much younger, especially with the sly, almost pixie grin he was wearing.

“Why not?”

“The tattoo wasn’t the only surprise I had for you today.”

“What’s the other one?”

“The song I’ve been working on. I’m almost done with it. I wanted you to read the lyrics.”

“Really? You haven’t let anyone touch that except Namjoon and Rabbit-hyung.”

“Well, now that it’s almost ready…. I want you to tell me what you think.”

Yoongi nodded, his attention entirely on Jimin. He walked way and dug around in his bag for a moment, withdrawing a folder. Inside, he pulled out a few sheets of paper and handed them to Yoongi. Yoongi sat down on the couch, immediately beginning to read.

He could feel Jimin’s gaze on him as his eyes slid over the words on the page. If it was anyone else, he would have snapped, told them he needed to concentrate and to back off. But Jimin was always his exception.

The words on the page screamed in Jimin’s voice. His pain over the years, the healing and aches, the smiles and love and sadness. Yoongi could have picked this out of a novel as Jimin’s. He could feel his own neutral expression slipping despite his best efforts not to let it, as he read down the page.

Even if you feel like you're alone, don't throw yourself away.

The words stood out like bold font on the page. Yoongi could hear his own voice, his words, the ones he whispered to Jimin countless times over the past five years. He looked up at Jimin, his vision blurring momentarily with tears.

Jimin shrank back. He tugged his shirt on carefully, worry crossing his face. “Is it... bad?”

“Jimin... Oh Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He set the paper down and rose, pulling Jimin into his arms.

“It’s almost as beautiful as you are... It’s your voice, perfect for you. You used my words.”

“They saved me. A lot more than even you know, hyung. I thought... Maybe they could save someone else too.”

“Jimin.” The name was more of a breath than a word. Yoongi closed his eyes, letting Jimin pull him into a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“I’ve always loved you, Jimin. I’m glad you gave me a chance,” Yoongi whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m glad you didn’t let me throw myself away,” Jimin responded simply. Yoongi’s heart swelled at his words. He didn’t think Jimin would ever know how thankful he was for that too. And for everything he had now, with the one he loved.

[minddofbecka]

(long) gc fic rec

All The Days Of My Life by rilla - 41k

It's 2016. At the end of the band's last tour, Zayn and Harry get married in Vegas. It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to them, but it certainly comes close. Half fix-it fic, half woke up married.

Trust Me by alnima - 78k

Zayn has trouble trusting Harry to catch him when he falls, but Harry is determined to be there no matter what it takes. Part 1.

Stay With Me by alnima - 173k

Zayn and Harry could never get it quite right. And now isn't any different. Except it is. Part 2.

and you and i were fire, fire, fireworks by trishapocalypse - 21k

espresso yourself yeah?? I stopped by there today

YOU WERE? what time??? maybe I saw you???

oh it was like half-eight? had an early class and all

oh ): i was hoping maybe you were there when i was… woulda been like fate, huh??

(Or: the one where Zayn is drunk and lonely and Harry is a number graffiti'd on a loo stall door that Zayn texts. A lot.)

like a sledgehammer by colourexplosion - 5k

Harry’s a good flatmate otherwise. He doesn’t ask questions when Zayn leaves without telling him for a few days and comes back looking refreshed and a bit younger than before. He doesn’t burst into Zayn’s room unannounced and he respects the fact that Zayn doesn’t go out during the day unless it’s absolutely necessary.

And if he’s figured out Zayn’s a vampire, he’s never brought it up.

Or, Zayn's a vampire and Harry's his human roommate.

let me be the one who calls you baby by alnima - 8k

“You look lovely, you hunk of man meat,” Harry declares, winking at Zayn.

Zayn blinks at Harry, his movements stilling for just a second before he continues to crawl into bed. He settles back against the pillows, wets his lips, and says, “What did you just call me?”

“Hunk of man meat,” Harry repeats, and it sounds kind of silly the second time that he says it.

“Right, I thought so."

Dancing On My Own by rilla - 59k

A Four Weddings and a Funeral au. Zayn and Harry keep meeting at weddings over the years, and slowly fall in love.

baby i’ll never leave if you keep holding me this way by estrella30 - 10k

“Does he have your mark?” his mum asks. Zayn shakes his head. He’d looked at Harry’s wrist explicitly for the edgings of Zayn’s family crest but couldn’t find anything. Not that that means Harry’s not the one; it might need a touch or connection to come to the surface. Zayn’s not sure he wants to find out though. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to know for certain.

“Ah, well. It could be coming,” she adds, and Zayn shrugs. She’s silent for another moment, before quietly adding, “You could pick him, you know.” She sounds thoughtful, distant even. Zayn wonders what she’s thinking about, what she’s remembering. “If you want to that is. I know you’ve not been looking for your mate Zayn, but maybe this was what you needed. Maybe you needed your mate to find you.”

or - Zayn is an immortal modern times non evil sexual incubus who is reluctant to find his mate. And then he meets Harry.

all that is gone and all that’s to come by greenandgolden - 10k

Once upon a time, Zayn’s Instagram had been littered with photos of Harry. Some of them together, some of him alone. One of Harry sleeping in Zayn’s bed, his face a bit puffy and his hair a wild mess sprawled across Zayn’s pillowcase. Pictures of them with each other’s families from holidays and birthdays, everyone with smiles on their faces and their arms wrapped around each other. Most of those photos are saved on Harry’s phone, hidden away because he couldn’t bear to delete them but at the same time he can’t stomach looking at how happy they were together versus how miserable he is now that he’s alone.

a post break up au

i fall in love whenever we meet by leighbot - 5k

“You had on operation on your back, babe. D’you not remember?” the man says as he reaches a hand out to rub gently at Harry’s chest.

Harry turns back again, feeling queasy with all of the movements. “No. I’m sorry… are you my doctor, too?”

“No, I’m not your doctor. My name is Zayn, H. Do you remember me?”

“Zayn,” Harry repeats, enjoying the way the word buzzes at the tip of his tongue.

Or, the one where Harry has temporary amnesia after surgery; he doesn't need his memories to know he loves Zayn.

He Feels Like Home by moonstarwrites - 21k

Under the impression that he would never meet his soulmate because others in his family faced the same circumstance, Zayn married Perrie and built a life with her. While that life wasn't anything out of the ordinary, it would do. Then, Zayn met his soulmate, Harry.

Love Is Blind (and darling, right now, I can’t see you) by purpledaisy - 35k

Harry had squeezed his eyes shut pretending it was real for the moment, that Zayn was actually his. Still, it doesn’t matter if the lights flashing behind his eyelids were the brightest they’d ever been because Zayn must have had his eyes wide open just waiting for it to be over. - Written for the prompt: pretend boyfriends

Boy with a Coin by Archangel_Blood - 29k

A piece of paper falls out of the bundle, and Louis snatches it and starts reading before Zayn can prise it off him.

“He’ll have eyes as green as frogs.” Louis arches an eyebrow at his brother. “Very romantic, Zayn. He’ll wear sparkly boots and he’ll be marvellously kind. He can juggle, and he—four nipples?” Louis barks out a laugh. “Zayn, such person doesn’t exist!”

“Exactly!”

Slide

by thisonegoes - 87k

Zayn's dad explained it to him in a small speech, the day she was born."No one prepares you for it. There aren't any manuals. Sometimes being a good parent means simply keeping your kid alive. Keep them breathing, make sure they're safe, love them until you could burst with it. On days when everything feels especially hard, just remember that your kid is Number One. Everything else becomes secondary. Less than. Minuscule by default. And believe me when I tell you this: when she eventually paints you a picture, sings you a song, does a cartwheel... always be sure to clap. If you're proud, make sure to say so."An AU about being a father, having faith, and growing up.

What If This Storm Ends by Archangel_Blood - 18k

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Harry does actually know how to take a hint; sometimes he just chooses not to. It’s not that he particularly enjoys disappointment, but he can deal with it. What ifs, on the other hand, those are the paper cuts and grazed knees that seem like nothing much, yet they take forever to heal, itching and stinging and driving you mad.

Give It All Away To You by disarm_d - 10k

“Zayn’s got love at first sight,” Louis says. “Again.”

University AU in which Zayn and Harry figure out how to give each other what they want.

we can take the darkness by leighbot - 72k

“I’ve met the guy and he’s always making eyes at you when you’re not looking.”

“No, he isn’t,” Zayn dismisses, finishing off his second glass of water. “I would have noticed if Harry ‘made eyes’ at me,” he says, using the air quotes. “We’ve been best mates for over three years.”

“That’s why I said: when you’re not looking,” Griff repeats. “It’s like you’ve never seen a Sandra Bullock movie.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and stands up. “Harry Styles and I are best friends,” he says, loudly and clearly. “Nothing more.”

Entangled Arms (or a vacant space) by vinoharry - 43k

When Harry first approached him at the bar, hips swinging and walking dick first, Zayn thought it was going to a night of perfunctory small talk before they fell into bed together. But Zayn got so much more than he bargained for.

new clothes, bloody nose by dutty (vodka) - 22k

The one where Zayn is an escort and Harry happens.

a sky full of stars by weddingbells - 20k 

In which Harry Styles is a librarian and Zayn Malik reads lots of books, and Harry pines and Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan tries to help him to get the boy who might be the boy of his dreams, and Harry just wants to know everything about the tattooed angel he can't stop thinking about. Basically.

You Might Just Be What I Need by PornyZiallFeels - 47k

Saw Zayn again today

Figured you would that’s the thing with dot n his daughter being mates

Runnin into him might become a regular thing now

Fuck me

your love is a waiting game by alnima - 26k

It’s been four days without Harry and Zayn’s feeling brave. He loves him, but he’s not waiting for him, not anymore. If Harry can’t love him – won’t love him – then he’ll find someone else.

When All I Want Is You by estrella30 - 9k

The flat is small. It’s tiny and cramped and nearly everything that’s inside is either broken or on its way to needing to be fixed. They’re never going to fit all of their things here, and will be in each other's faces every second of their lives.

Zayn absolutely cannot wait. It’s tiny but it’s theirs. It’s going to be theirs.

When Harry moves out a year later and Zayn’s left alone, the flat’s never seemed so big.

or - Zayn and Harry move in together and don't have a lot of money and everything falls apart (and then gets put back together)

where did the party go by shuttermutt - 34k

"…insofar as the two parties who want to wed should decide to do so before they have both reached the age of eighteen (section 1.ii) they will have a period of one year henceforth to decide if the marriage is fruitful and if not, they shall be allowed to part as if having not been married in the first place…" Section 2 of the 'Romeo and Juliet law', passed into law in Britain and its territories, 1803

They duck into a tattoo parlour that’s halfway between the city centre and Harry’s mum’s and Zayn gets two black lines carefully inked onto his left ring finger. He smiles up at Harry while it’s being done.

"It’ll last forever," he says. "Just like us."

Conspire Against the Odds by whatwasthatharry - 38k

“Louis?” he asks, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to process what just happened.

“Yeah, Z?”

He sounds tired, and Zayn finds himself wondering if it's because it's clear something is weighing on Harry..

“Is everything okay with Harry?”

(A story in which Zayn meets Harry during their senior year of college and immediately becomes infatuated with him. But Harry disappears most nights, and it's clear he's hiding something. Zayn wants desperately to know what's going on, but no one seems to want to tell him anything.)

In A Flash by hmarie - 24k

Zayn found Harry slouched in the corner of the destroyed nursery. His hands covering his face as tears streamed down his cheeks. The white crib Zayn had spent five hours making sure was put together 100% correctly, flipped over and smashed to pieces. Zayn had to step over the crumpled blue bedding in order to even get to Harry.

“I can’t do it anymore, Z.” Harry’s sobs tore their way from his chest.

Zayn’s fingers trailed across Harry’s cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears. He cradled Harry’s face between his palms as a few more tears slid from his own eyes. He slowly nodded. “Regroup, we can do that.” Zayn let his forehead rest against Harry’s as he gently leaned forward to capture Harry’s lips. “Let’s get out of this room.” He quickly stood and pulled Harry with him.

Or- Harry and Zayn give up on their dream but Gemma won't let them.

you can drive all night by liquidmeasure - 25k

"Harry needs someone to guide him, to tell him where to put each part of himself. It feels right somehow, and lately maybe something more than right, because sometimes he catches himself contemplating intentional accidents, just to see if Zayn will come running, where he’ll touch Harry. An elbow, a shoulder, the curve of his waist."

Harry doesn't know where to put his parts. Zayn helps him figure it out. Louis yells a lot.

Million Dollar Man by soyane - 50k

Harry is a student, who'd much rather focus on writing articles and participating in conferences than working to pay for his bills.

Zayn might have a proposition for him.

What If This Storm Ends by Archangel_Blood - 18k

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Harry does actually know how to take a hint; sometimes he just chooses not to. It’s not that he particularly enjoys disappointment, but he can deal with it. What ifs, on the other hand, those are the paper cuts and grazed knees that seem like nothing much, yet they take forever to heal, itching and stinging and driving you mad.

Once upon a different life by withbatedbreath (heart_eyes) - 45k

Zarry version of The Vow

When it comes to love you're an easy fight by orphan_account - 11k

AU. Harry never really could say no to people.

Hands All Over by blainedarling - 8k

“Point is,” Louis leans over the back of the sofa. “Point is, that Harry Styles has got a very good bum. And I feel very confident in saying that having seen it up close and in person now, too.”

The room goes very still, and quiet. Even Niall stops eating.

“What was that?” Zayn asks, as calmly as he can manage. This is Harry Styles they’re talking about. It’s not like he’s got a crush or anything, but— He might have gotten off to that photo of him on holiday in the tiniest of tiny yellow shorts more times than he would care to admit.

“Harry Styles,” Louis replies coolly, his eyes twinkling. “Was signing off on his pre-exercise questionnaire upstairs when I was on my way down.”

—or, the one where Zayn tries and fails to massage his celebrity crush without getting massively turned on.

Tight Lips and Cold Feet by mmaree - 17k

He remembers an intensity of feelings but not a lot of words.  He recalls drunken laughter with mates, sunny days and shy smiles, shit weed and tattoo parlours, cold sheets and burning touches.  Harry recalls a fantasy where real life took a backseat, where all that mattered was that they were young and alive.

At some point, Harry got scared.  He needed something he could hold on to, something he could be sure of.  But the more he dug for reassurance, the more Zayn clammed up.

And the more they f*cked.

Maybe Zayn saved his words for his books when he should have spoken them aloud.  Maybe Harry should have ended it better instead of running away like a coward.

Then again, maybe he should just stop dwelling on the past.

Or the one where Harry gets cold feet.  Three years later, Harry’s an editor and Zayn is the new writer he’s been assigned to work with.  

They have a lot more than just a book to work out.

Readiness is Near by greenandgolden - 13k

“Morning everybody, sorry I’m late.”

Harry looks up from his tablet, his heart dropping when he sees Zayn walking into the room. He’s heading for the desk in the front and no, this is not happening. Harry did not just douse his professor in coffee. He did not just give his professor his shirt and his phone number.

A teacher!zayn, (adult) student!harry kidfic.

hey moon (please forget to fall down) by leighbot - 7k

He spots a tape on the nightstand on his side, next to a glass of water and two small paracetamols. Zayn, watch me is written on a sticky note and Zayn smiles, confused, as he scoots closer to the edge.

Or, a 50 First Dates AU.

on the line by alnima - 32k

Zayn nods and watches him, feeling like he should feel relieved. Mostly he’s worried. It’s a silly thought, but sometimes Zayn wonders if Harry has some boyfriend across town that he goes to see on nights like this, nights where the air feels different between them. And because even after six years, it’s never made sense to Zayn why Harry, a salesman, needs to spend so much time at the office at night. But who is he to have suspicions when he’s about to head out and deal with some drug trafficker across town?

Or, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the Zarry version

[eurosong]

My ESC 2019 ranking

Hey there, folks - after a lot of deliberation, I’ve decided upon my ranking of this year’s songs. I feel quite passionately about this year’s field, as always, and make some trenchant remarks, but a lot of them are tongue in cheek, and no shade is intended on those who like the songs I don’t or vice versa. Here’s my ranking with my thoughts on why I put each song where I did.

41. Croatia – The Dream I try to find a redeeming quality in every song, but sometimes the task proves impossible. This ironically-named nightmare of a track sounds like a poorly-produced early 00s track that tried to straddle the line between classic and futuristic and failed at both. The usual things that I hear in its defence are that Roko has a good voice, and that the Croatian segment is better. To the first point, maybe, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that the voice doesn’t shine through the scream mode of most of the song; to the latter point, if you know some BCS, you’ll know that the Croatian language bit is as cloyingly cliché as the English part. Some people are saying that this could be a surprise qualifier. If that happens, I will shed tears of blood.

40. France – Roi If France don’t change their national final system to equalise the jury and televote more after this year, I don’t know when they will. Destination Eurovision had a bunch of good songs, but thanks to the power of a Youtuber’s fanbase, one of the least remarkable and most cloying songs got the nod instead. Roi is an unabashed hymn to self with the most criminal franglais abominations (rhyming beaucoup with boo, really?) to which I’ve ever been subjected.  Now it’s supposedly got a chance of winning thanks to a gimmicky staging, which I feel uses people as props. I wouldn’t even mind the antipathetic performer and cringey, self-centred lyrics so much if the tune were interested, but it’s equally empty and pompous.

39. San Marino – Say na na na Well, this song certainly does get me saying nah, nah, nah. I do not get the amount of good will for it, as I neither find it a good track, nor enjoyable ironically like Who we are or Chain of lights were. It’s a “party track”, but the party in question is the kind I want to flee where the food is bad, the music is obnoxious and overbearing and the ambiance is that of an uncomfortable throwback. Bewildering how this is considered a worthy qualifier.

38. Moldova – Stay I swear Eurovision has songs like this just to be able to detect extra-terrestrials, because if anyone says this song is their favourite, and they’re neither Moldovan nor Romanian, then it confirms to me that they are aliens because this is banality writ large. Three minutes of contradictory and cliché rhymes (“it’s now or never, it’s forever”. Ok then mate), dull music, little progression, an oddly unpleasant vocal and even a staging that comes second-hand.

37. Finland – Look away My impulse is to look away from this song indeed – a dated slice of repetitive, oddly downbeat despite being uptempo EDM slathered with a simultaneously overwrought and undercooked social message and brought to us by an uncomfortable duo who look like two acquaintances whose fishing trip got interrupted abruptly and they had to cook up a Eurovision song last minute. There is nothing about this I like at all.

36. Israel – Home The one faintly interesting thing about this song is the remarkable wailing in its first few seconds, but they removed even that. This has to be one of the most maudlin songs I have ever heard, delivered gratingly. A friend of mine nicknamed Kobi the “Joystealer”, and the name is very apt. I feel like all the joy in the world is out of reach when listening to this lament, which is syrupy and bitter at the same time, like a coarse cough medicine. The “I am someone” has to be one of the most cloying lines of the entire year, too.

35. Estonia – Storm Estonia having to resort to sending a croaky renta-Swede to sing a budget Avicii b-side in front of a Windows XP screensaver with lyrics that imaginatively rhyme “this” with, well, “this” is like seeing someone who had always dressed elegantly having to resort to sporting torn, worn, ill-fitting hand-me-downs that were already out of fashion when bought first hand. This land of song and art can and should be doing so much better.

34. Montenegro – Heaven The fact this ironically infernal song is not just not bottom but also almost avoided my bottom 10 just goes to show how deep the bottom is this year. Sounds like Podgorica’s 56th best sixth form choir got some cassette tapes of bad late 90s R&B-lite, got a donation of a dodgy Casio keyboard and, at the last minute, got their granddad to do a bit of fiddling, mixed it all together and the result was this chaötic hot mess on ice. It’s a shame, because these kids seem genuinely nice, and they don’t deserve to be lumbered with the albatross around their neck of this song and the resultant cast iron “last in the semi” result it will achieve.

33. Switzerland – She got me There’s little separating the female attempt at a duego and the male one for me. Luca radiates a smug energy that annoys me more, but the song is a smidgen less generic, but then using the same dancers as from Fuego made the decision easier. I’m not sure what she got him, but it certainly wasn’t a grammar book, as the song is filled with bizarrely affected ungrammatical English, because I guess it’s uncool to properly conjugate.

32. Cyprus – Replay It seems almost self-parodising that Cyprus lamely returned to try to catch lightning in the same jar with a song that is entitled, and feels like, a giant replay. Fuego was an encapsulation of many things I really don’t like at Eurovision – a lyrically empty song with limited musical merit or memorability that got a lot further than it would off the basis, mostly, of staging. This year, the staging is worse and the performer is less charismatic. If it does as well, I will be astounded.

31. Norway – Spirit in the sky What if Aqua came back – perish the thought – and, for their comeback single, took a rejected b-side from the late 90s of theirs in their typical bubblegum style, but injected it with a dreadful attempt at joik and an aesthetic inspired by their newfound animal spirits? It would sound something like this bizarre Norwegian song, whose victory over En livredd mann still bewilders me. It’s a bit infectious, but so are many diseases, and part of the reason that it buries itself into your mind is because of its pretty flagrant lifting of last year’s “Monsters”’ chorus, which in itself was all too familiar. One of the year’s biggest cringefests for me.

30. Lithuania – Run with the lions Take a guy most noted until now for screeching in the world’s worst falsetto whilst pretending not to sing, while a drag act that barely qualified as a baroness let alone a queen wás pretending to sing, also badly. Give him a song that advocates running alongside large carnivores who’d probably find humans an attractive snack. That combination should at least be interesting, but it’s one of the dullest propositions of the year. The only real interesting thing is that dodgy falsetto making a reappearance. It’s pleasant enough but forgotten instantly.

29. Russia – Scream Russia confined themselves to a few fruitless years in the desert with the Samojlova charade, and now they look to return to ESC superpower status by bringing back the guy who won them the public vote back in 2016. Their logic in trying to go one step further, though, was rather flawed. Concentrating on winning over the juries, they took for granted that the public was going to enjoy this rather melodramatic effort as much as they did You are the only one. I doubt they will, and I doubt the jury will be much swayed from last time. Musically, its orchestral touches represent a step up from YATOO for me, but it is let down by the emo lyrics and some bombastic staging.

28. Belarus – Like it When I first heard this song, where “you gonna like it” is repeated approximately 14 thousand times, my first impression was “no, I certainly am not going to.” It’s a bizarre stream of non-sequiturs dolled up with a technicolour assault to the eyes. I’ve softened to it somewhat, in part because of a reimagining of the lyrics as being a call for help after getting drafted into Eurovision by Lukaszenka, but I’ll still be stunned if it qualifies.

27. United Kingdom – Bigger than us I had a Freudian slip a few days ago when writing the “Undo my ESC” post – I wrote “Bigger than us” as “Better than us”. A fair swathe of the year’s field very much is more remarkable than this anodyne X factor winner’s single which seems to be aiming for 19th rather than first. Michael is a likeable character, but unfortunately that doesn’t come across too much in his live performance, most notable for him flapping around his arms as though they were on fire.

26. Iceland – Hatrið mun sigra Musically, there are elements of this that are really up my street. Decent throwbacks are rare, but the 80s’ techno ambience of the track is pretty good. I just wish it were not accompanied with a disdainful hauteur and the OTT attitude of a bunch of sophomore arts students who’ve just discovered irony. The last thing the world needs now is more hate, ironic or not.

25. Sweden – Too late for love Sweden made one step in the right direction this year – they’ve sent a man rather than an overgrown embryo, and someone with a bit more humility than Grosso last year. It’s a much better song for me than the past two attempts, but that’s not saying much – manufactured gospel has little soul, and there’s a charisma chasm here only partially filled by drafting in American mammas to sell the song as something more than what it is.

24. Poland – Pali się This is one that I wish I liked more. It’s middle of the pack for me. I like the fact that there are clear heritage influences but find the song itself to be rather too linear and the voices too shrill – and I am a fan of white voice.

23. Macedonia – Proud I had high hopes for Macedonia as I adored their artist, Tamara’s, imperious Brod što tone back in Skopjefest 2014 – a song that frankly got robbed of representing Macedonia. Where BST was subtle and poëtic in its message, Proud, which I regret wasn’t in Macedonian also, is rather too much on the nose for me and sounds a little like a charity single. This is augmented by the rather basic video which reminded me a little too much of Bebe’s “Ella.” Nonetheless, it’s a nice composition and well sung.

22. Spain – La venda Spain this year had a selection that they called “eurotemazos”. It’s difficult to translate, but Eurobangers, smashes or hits all carry a shade of the meaning. As soon as I heard that, I knew it was an ill omen, and indeed, the list of songs was full of bad attempts at bops and a few soporific ballads-by-computer. La venda was the best of a bad lot. Miki has energy but the song is completely inconsequential.

21. Germany – Sister Germany have once again invited disaster by inviting Chaosmeisterin, Barbara “Wild Eyes” Schönberger back to compère the national final. The end result was this inexperienced wildcard (when will you ever learn, Germany?) clinching the win with two gals who’d never met before this year singing about sisterhood in a group called S!sters with their song Sister. This is hotly tipped for last place in the final, but I feel it has sóme merit. The verses, and especially the bridge, are lovely, and seem to be building to something great – until we get a really generic, squawked chorus where the two non-sisters try to outshriek one another.

20. Australia – Zero gravity I’ll never get over the fact that we could have had something truly Australian in all senses of the word for once, and instead we got this. It’s catchy but repetitive and rather gimmicky, and I lament that it will qualify over better songs thanks to a rather cringey staging gimmick.

19. Belgium – Wake up This truly is a musical coitus interruptus. The moody verses get you in the mood, building a sense of urgency and direction, only for everything to get abandoned without warning with a very dreary, incongruous chorus. “City Lights” this ain’t, and it’s a shame, as it’s still decent, but could have been so much more satisfying.

18. Czechia – Friend of a friend Some countries take decades to find their niche at the contest. It seems like Czechia has found theirs in the space of a year and a bit, and found a particularly narrow niche. Field a cutesy lad with a retro-inspired, somewhat catchy but also somewhat problematic song inspired by infidelity. Last year’s “Lie to me” was written from the perspective of the cheated; this year’s, from a potential cheater who spends half the song listening with his girlfriend to his neighbours having noisy sex and the other half protesting he barely knows the female neighbour anymore. Truly weird.

17. Denmark – Love is forever This song reminds me of one time I was by the seaside and got offered to try a freakshake. It was one of the most OTT sweetest things I’ve ever had in my life. I enjoyed it, but it’s something I could only enjoy on an annual basis. This song is much the same. It’s bringing the Gallic cuteness where France failed, and the fact Leonora looks into your soul unnervingly whilst singing just adds more interest to the song for me.

16. Azerbaijan – Truth Azerbaijan bring a halfway decent song for the 2nd time so far, by my count. This is nowhere as near as good as “Skeletons”, but still strong. I like the atypical lyrical matter and the fact that the Symphonix crew created something contemporary but wearing Azeri traditional influences on its sleeve. The unplugged version of this is even better.

15. Netherlands – Arcade Perhaps I would enjoy this more were it not for the intense amount of hype, the hubristic arrogance of many people in thinking the win is already in the bag, and the amount of condescending barbs flung my way on other corners of the net for not considering this some transcendental masterpiece that deserves to win more than any other song. It’s not in the same league as the oft-compared, timeless Amar pelos dois for me. It’s a nice, heartfelt song – albeit one that relies too much on a head voice that I find rather unappealing – and it has a few clever turns of phrase, but I will never understand why this one has been singled out when there are several songs I consider more moving in this final.

14. Georgia – Sul tsin iare This song has really grown on me. It has an incredible, almost scary intensity and was written on an epic, orchestral scale. It feels like the music to the climax of a war film. I felt what it meant before I understood the Georgian. I particularly love the chorus backing Oto and the staging that matches the song’s drama.

13. Hungary – Az én apam I expected a lot of things from a Joci Papai return, and this song only delivers some of them, but it’s a song worthy of enjoying in its own right. If Origo was fire and had an undercurrent of hurt, Az én apam is water, but is warm in its own right. It’s a nostalgic song with the same poetry I expected of Joci.

12. Latvia – That night Latvia’s song has been criticised for not being very impactful, and it isn’t, but therein lies its charm. It’s a low-key, saudadic effort that beautifully occupies three minutes. It is the kind of track I imagine listening to whilst, and which makes me imagine as a result, driving down a long, lonely road at night in the rain. It’s hushed, it’s delicate, and it sounds to me like petrichor smells.

11. Greece – Better love Greece is sending something very atypical from them, almost as an allergic reaction to doing so badly with the more ostensibly ethnic “Oneiro mou” last year. I’d be disappointed, but this is really quite good indeed, a very professional and rounded effort that has produced a soaring, anthemic song. Katerine’s voice has a beautiful, dark and deep huskiness that imbues a certain quality too. My only problem with this song are the careless lyrics that seem like a compilation of Instagram clichés.

10. Ireland – 22 My dear Ireland sneaks into my top 10 for the first time in a few years thanks to a full-on earworm of a song that has become one of my most played tracks this year. This song is very simple, but sometimes unassuming simplicity is elegant. It’s got a retro, blue-eyed soul feel and is at once nostalgic and catchy. It deserved a lot better than the slot of death to which Björkman consigned it.

09. Malta – Chameleon Malta getting into my top 10 for the first time since 2014, with a song that is even more contrary to our expectations of Maltese songs than “Tomorrow” was. This song is aptly named, as it is an explosion of colour – not just in the clever video, but also, the music itself is so vibrant and fun. The only part I don’t like is the rather cliché bridge, because both the drop-based chorus, the slow build of the verses and the exuberant post-chorus are really good. GIVE ME X I’M A Y is one of the lyrical memes of the year and is infectious. From beige to a rainbow; well done, Malta.

08. Slovenia – Sebi Slovenia are on the money for the second year in a row. Whilst “Hvala ne” was an in your face, high-octane buzz of a song, this year, we’ve gone in the completely opposite direction: a very contemplative, intimate song that imbues a sense of peace and harmony. What they do have in common is some of the best lyrics of the year. In Sebi’s case, the text is graceful in its effortless simplicity and minimalism. It feels like the only thing that matters during those 3 minutes for the song’s performers are each other, which creates a particular atmosphere indeed.

07. Albania – Ktheju tokës When I heard the venerable Festival i këngës, Albania’s selection process, was essentially going to revamp itself, I was worried that it would lose its magic, but in the end, I needn’t have so much. For the second year running, the best song by far won – a song full of dramatic potential. Thank heavens they left the song in the wonderful mellifluous Albanian language and did not dig out the song’s heart with a needless revamp. I hope Shqipëria can keep this trend and momentum up. Ktheju tokës is a heartrending song about immigration and divided families, inspired by true experience, and performed with power and style by the enigmatic Jonida.

06. Armenia – Walking out Another country for whom I have a lot of time at the contest is Armenia, who always tend to bring something different to the show. I was initially a bit confused by their effort this year because of its abrupt stops between different parts of the song which at first sounded rather jarring. Now, this, and the great variation in tone and style between the verses, the gentle bridge and the ferocious choruses are part of what make the song for me. Srbuk has charisma and a fierce set of pipes. All these elements have made Walking out one of the major earworms of the year for me.

05. Austria – Limits The first time I heard this, I was underwhelmed. It’s a nice song, but it is lacking a bit in instant impact. Nonetheless, something about it demanded repeated listens; with each one, my appreciation for this confessional, Kate Bush-inspired slice of heartrending emotion grew exponentially. I am hoping that the live performance will give it the instancy it needs to bring to life how exceptionally good a song this is. It’s up there with the very best in terms of the lyrics. It’s so personal, so intimate, so searing and one of the most underrated tracks of the year. 04. Serbia – Kruna Pretty much everyone who knows my ESC predilections knows I am a huge fan of Serbia. They generally stick with their own language, and bring songs that highlight their rich musical traditions. My support isn’t categorical – I despised “Beauty never lies” and felt let down by last year’s style pastiche, though I felt Balkanika were wonderful contestants – so this year, I was relieved to see them back at the height of their powers with an unassumingly lovely ballad, performed with power and purpose by the mesmerising Nevena. It’s a song of few words, and it feels like every single one was weighed out carefully to pack the most meaning. Delightful.

03. Romania – On a Sunday One of the biggest surprises of the season for me has been Romania. I had no interest in their national selection, and was nonplussed when this won, albeit grateful that it beat two truly dreadful frontrunners. My first impression was that it was an odd but catchy song, and that it was weird and a little funny how the grown woman singing it seemed to throw a tantrum in the middle of the performance. Something about it made me listen again, and again, and again – and then the amazingly theatrical and imaginative video came out, which added to my appreciation even more. It’s a really emotional song, which somehow invigorates rather than saddens me, perhaps because of the bewitching power of Ester’s performance. She delivers this with an unbelievable intensity and has such a singular voice. I fear for its chances because it’s not the most accessible song – but I really hope this will at least qualify.

02. Portugal – Telemóveis I remember my first reäction to this well. I was confused and a little perturbed – it seemed like the rantings of a madman over highly dissonant, if rather bewitching, music. It stuck in my head, though, and very soon, the confusion grew into appreciation and then full on love for probably the most singular, sui generis offering of the entire year. This is a song that sounds timeless but futuristic; that could not have been composed by any other country, but which blends influence of fado with sounds from the subcontinent, the near and far east and what seem to be other planets. The text – all too often dismissed as “lol he’s singing about cellphones, how random lmao” – is a deep, introspective, metaphorical look at mortality that is gushing with saudade. The fact that this, the most forward-thinking proposal of 2019, might not even qualify is scandalous; it should be in it to win it.

01. Italy – Soldi As much as I adore Telemóveis, there’s a song that I love even more. The first time I saw Soldi performed live, it was like a punch to the gut in the best possible way. This song about a deadbeat dad and how money can tear a family apart is just one example of how Italy is brimming with exceptional lyricists. I’d translate some of my favourite lyrics, but firstly, I find every line to be powerfully moving, and secondly, the English can’t quite do justice to the perfectly measured rhythm and cadence of the original as well as the emotion. On top of that, musically, it’s one of the freshest tracks of the year, with super modern production but symphonic touches. Who thinks of making a trap-inspired song, but with an orchestra? Italy, that is who, and I so, so hope they finish this barnstormer of a decade for them with a much awaited win.

[happymetalgirl]

Car Bomb - Mordial

Car Bomb have followed a curiously backwards trajectory compared to most bands in terms of their releases. They debuted on Relapse Records and then switched to releasing albums independently, and unlike most bands as time goes on, the gaps between albums has shrunk for Car Bomb as their career progresses. This isn’t really all too important, but I thought it was some fun and interesting trivia. Anyway, onto the more relevant stuff.

While fans of the band were of course excited for this new album by Car Bomb here, I haven’t really seen a whole lot of chatter about it (at least from where I’m sitting). For me though, Mordial is undoubtedly one of the albums I was most eager to hear this year. I first heard of Car Bomb through Gojira frontman Joseph Duplantier’s cosigning of and collaboration with them on their 2012 record w^w^^w^w, and I took a liking to them for their wild, volatile brand of mathcore that exploded out in all directions while still feeling purposeful rather than simply haphazard. Their debut album, Centralia, occasionally indulged in some absolutely manic displays of mathcore, but it also showcased a potential for composional greatness that their sophomore release, w^w^^w^w, would expand on. The album’s production was surprisingly a step down from their debut’s, but the band clearly improved their sense of groove and rhythm, and the integration of more industrial elements into their sound was a welcome and well-worked augmentation. But it was their third album, Meta, that came out in 2016, that really blew me away.

It doesn’t come up too often, but when it does, I can’t help but feel I have to give repeated disclaimers. I fucking love Meshuggah, and for as many bands that have incorporated djent into their sound because of them, for as many bands that try to rip off “Bleed” or mimic Meshuggah’s style of groove, no one does it like them. I’ve heard so many different “similar to: Meshuggah” songs and albums in my time as an undeniable die-hard fan of the band, but no one seems to capture that consistently sinister X factor that makes Meshuggah Meshuggah. But with their deeper integration of 8-string groove into their sound and Michael Dafferner’s impressively energetic, committed, Jens-Kidman-esque vocal delivery, Meta was the closest I had ever heard anyone sound to Meshuggah. They had shown their similar (and quite possibly Meshuggah-influenced) sense of groove on w^w^^w^w, but Meta was an even more thorough evolution of that aspect of their sound, and it was so astonishing to hear a band not only capturing a significant amount of that Meshuggah X factor, but also integrating it seamlessly into a sound still all their own rather than merely cheaply imitating.

With that said, I think it’s pretty clear why I was so hyped for the follow-up to Meta. I figured I probably had to bring myself back down to Earth to recognize that Mordial would likely be different in some significant ways and to not be disappointed at the band’s likely refusal to simply metamorphosize into Meshuggah 2.0. And Mordial is indeed different, but just because Car Bomb don’t sound as close to my favorite band on this album doesn’t mean the newer thing they’re trying here are without value, not at all. Car Bomb definitely branch out on Mordial and continue to push themselves in ways not even Meta did.

One major differentiation between Mordial and Meta is the level of (and the type of) vocal melody incorporated on the two albums. While the melody introduced on Meta largely plays into the jolting abrasive robotic aesthetic of their performances, the smoother melodies on Mordial feel unusually spiritually ethereal for Car Bomb, tapping into something similar to what Joseph Duplantier tapped into on Magma (my suspicions of which upon my initial listens to Mordial were confirmed when I read that the Gojira frontman was credited as a creative consultant on the album).

The greater proportion of clean vocals among all the industrially tinged mathcore insanity also gives me some noticeable Fear Factory vibes, and I am totally fine with that. (See "Vague Skies", whose bridge guitar work is surprisingly inspiring amid the rest of the song's instrumental madness). Meanwhile, the song "Antipatterns" in particular gives off somewhat of a Strapping Young Lad/Devin Townsend air as well, while the super crunchy riffage of "Naked Fuse" reminds me of my favorite Textures album, Polars, as well, all of these being very pleasant stylisic similarities and reminders.

The industrial elements on Mordial are also taken to new extremes, like the futuristic laser machine gun sounds on the blasting "Dissect Yourself", which might just be some creative effects pedal magic, and the seemingly dubstep-tinged guitar effects on the tasty groove of "Scattered Sprites".

Songs like "Fade Out" and "Xoxoy" dip into this gorgeous type of atmosphere built by soaring vocal leads and emotive melodic guitar soloing that feed surprisingly well into all the crushing mathcore guitar groove surrounding it.

Mordial indeed comes with plenty of novelty, but it's not such a radical stylistic shift that it's unrecognizable from Meta; there are still the vicious and frantic explosions of angular guitar work and bursts of double-bass battery that Meta was built on; songs like the vibrantly and dynamically groovy "HeLa" and "Blackened Battery" sound like they'd fit right at home on Meta as much as they do here, which I certainly think is a good thing. The title track's spoken delivery of the intro reminds me of one of my favorite Meshuggah songs, "Spasm", and the soloing on the track even sounds Thordendal-esque. Indeed, what was built on Meta is not lost or even replaced on Mordial, but rather it is enhanced and made even more dynamic through its meshing with newer musical elements and compositional styles. And the production on Mordial is as crisp and complimentary as it was on Meta to reinforce the strength of the band's grooves by highlighting the delicious guitar tone's low end and the punchiness of the percussion.

Car Bomb continue to improve and craft their sound and ensure that they represent themselves as completely and positively as possible on Mordial in both their foundations and their recent developments. With a new Meshuggah album due (by pattern) to be released some time next year, I've been thinking of where they could possibly go next to evolve their sound, and I keep thinking of what they might sound like with a bit of industrial edge added to their signature original form of djent. And with a lot of this album Car Bomb have shown what a dashing combination that can be. While the quality of Mordial comes as no surprise, I honestly didn't think Car Bomb could match themselves after Meta, but I think with Mordial they have at least done that by continuing to expand on their sound without sacrificing the positive aspects of their evolution along the way. And the last time I was so pleasantly surprised when I thought a band couldn't outdo their already magnificent preceding work was last year with my #1 album of the year, Khemmis' 10/10 (for those of you who like scores) Desolation, which astonishingly outdid Hunted. And I would say Meta was even better than Hunted, so that could mean something big for Mordial. And their release pattern (though not carved in stone) suggesting that they could put out an even better album in 2021 and then an even better one than that one in 2022 is frightening. Bring it on, I say.

_tative/10

[waldbrown]

Are shorts enough? When avant-garde filmmakers have larger audience aspirations

One more installment in the vein of independent filmmaking, manifestos, and carving a career out of a market that does not necessarily represent the type of films one makes. 

Dreams of a first feature 

When I first met Akosua Adoma Owusu, in the lobby of a hostel in Berlin in 2014, she told me about her plans to shoot a feature film. She was attending Berlinale Talents with a feature script in one of the workshops, and was beginning to navigate the constellation of producers, co-producers, and distributors one almost inevitably needs to pull off an independent feature today (an idea which I explored in my first writing this semester on Med Hondo’s 1979 article “What is the cinema for us?”). As we’ve seen each other once every year or so since then, I’ve been fascinated to hear about the developments with this feature, as I, like many, have aspirations to shoot another feature film and to do so with sufficient production funding and opportunities for international release. 

It is freaking tough to fund a feature film

If this was a journalistic article, right about now would be a great place for a nut graf on how, in the independent film industry, it is very difficult to get enough funds together to make a movie, especially a director’s first feature film. On how so many of these filmmakers spend years applying with limited success to grants and residencies that are seen as a gateway to getting the production done. That, to a surprisingly large number of filmmakers who take pride in the “art” element of their films, commercial cinematic release is still viewed as an ultimate space of sharing work with audiences. Short films, to many, are a stepping stone, a space to test out ideas and aesthetics in the hopes that funding could come through for something bigger: a feature. Something the film festivals will pay to fly one in to present. Something that would be of interest to international distributors looking to make a deal that would, for the first time in the filmmaker’s life, pay off the budget they spent making the movie. This money would lead to another, bigger production, and so on. They might not have Avengers-caliber productions in their sights, but they certainly have films such as Moonlight, Birdman, and 12 Years A Slave. After all, these films won Academy Awards while retaining an artistic voice...and made quite a bit of money while doing it. 

Wait--does everyone need to make a feature?

So this year, in our most recent meeting, I did not expect to hear that Adoma, for the time being, has put the feature aside in order to focus on short films. She was staying with my family during the Dallas International Film Festival, where we had films in the same Documentary Shorts block. A Film Crew Censors Itself is possibly my most experimental film yet--which doesn’t say much--employing a crude censor block to hide the identities of its characters, all of whom are real people working on a film set in a beach resort north of Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Adoma’s film, Pelourinho: They Don’t Really Care About Us, features voiceover narration of a letter by a frustrated W.E.B. DuBois to the US Embassy in Brazil, and the Embassy’s response, around the issue of Brazil denying stay to black Americans whom it accused of trying to “settle” the country. Adoma cleverly juxtaposes this letter against the backdrop of a festive Pelourinho, the historic center of Salvador de Bahia, adorned with flags and pastel-soaked walls. Pelourinho is also the site of Michael Jackson’s music video “They Don’t Really Care About Us,” pieces of which Adoma hints at towards the end of the film, prior to closing with Pelourinho residents repeating the words of the song in Portuguese. As one after another faces the camera and recites the song’s chorus, “They don’t really care about us,” the audience cannot help but wonder if the experience of DuBois, an outsider, relates in some way to Pelourinho’s own residents. 

This film reminded me of Adoma’s past work, careful collages of colorful imagery, patterns, and symbols, occasionally bolstered by a poetic narration. In her film Reluctantly Queer (Berlinale 2016), for example, the camera makes its way pensively throughout its protagonist’s apartment as the character recites, through voiceover, a letter he has written to his mother in Ghana. Through their experimentation with technique, as well as a fondness for veering from traditional narrative, Adoma’s films recall many of the avant-garde works we viewed in our class this semester (one of which, Intermittent Delight, she directed). 

Speaking in the car on one of Dallas’s many highways, Adoma pondered whether she would ever make the feature film. After all, short films give her a space to experiment free from the control of producers or external funders. In most cases, she doesn’t need a large team to pull off a short. Some of the works she has made entirely on her own. Many of the obstacles inhibiting her feature project from taking off were posed from within her small network of collaborators. 

When we discussed the matter again in front of an audience after one of our screenings, I was surprised to hear that, unlike other friends dead-set on making their first or second feature film, Adoma has for the time being cast the feature film aside completely. She has reached a level of contentment knowing that she’ll continue to make short films. 

Can one carve a career out of short films?

I am brainstorming ways one could make a commercially viable career in the world of shorts, and particularly experimental shorts. It’s tough. I imagine that a particularly technical skill or interest could pay off in opportunities to prototype for VR, for example, or animation, but this quickly renders one’s services to others rather than dedicating them to the production of their own art. 

Another avenue could be a shift to series, for television or YouTube, perhaps. Yet this almost inevitably requires work in larger teams, something Adoma voiced (and I concur) is not needed or suitable for many projects in the art realm.

There’s the possibility of a successful shorts career through festivals and on Vimeo, although there’s not really any means of making money going those routes. 

If one is willing, an experimental shorts filmmaker could craft a career and keep their work artful by shooting high-brow, concept-based ads; such is the case with Steve McQueen, Spike Jonze, and a recent run-in at Dallas IFF this year, Daniel Scheinert. But it’s hard to imagine an experimental filmmaker not voicing frustration over the implications of shooting ads for clients. And, notably, the above names despite their art leanings have all directed widely distributed features already.