#like a detuned radio

[catnipster69]

J2 Fic Recommendation

Like a Detuned Radio by homo_pink @homo-pink​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077114

When Jared's released from prison, Jensen is there to help him cope. Parole officer/ex-con AU.

Really gets you in the feels.

[lamusique1]

Radiohead - Karma Police Remix DJ Francuz

[moxfirefly]

Bayverse Donnie with F!Reader (she/her)

"You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!"

"I...I don't want to stop. Please don't ask me to stop."

Happy holidays 💙❤️💜🧡

Oh boy yes!!! This is a great one! Let’s get it, goes without sayin’.

Rated Explicit

He hated what his overworked brain could cook up some nights, the tension that settled in his muscles whenever that nagging little monster in his head told that ‘he didn’t deserve this’.

Because Donnie’s always been a little too in tune with what he is, what he looks like.

Compared to you? You who somehow found your way in under the safety fence around his heart. You who somehow wanted to be with him and settle.

It was settling, he knew that sooner rather than later you’d wake up from your fugue state and realize this isn’t a life worth living for with him. What could he provide? Not all the typical things a partner should, he couldn’t walk out and take somewhere, he couldn’t meet your friends, he can’t marry you…

He hates how everyone gets to touch you out in the open, out in your normal life away from the violence and the secrecy.

Donnie swallows a lump in his throat when he sees Casey pull you into a hug, the free affection he could supply not just down here but up above in your real world with your real life. It’s not even about Vern and how he grabs your hand after a high five and laughs. He hates to admit that he’s thought about every other set of normal hands that have touched you throughout your day, every perfect palm that could connect perfectly with yours, each of their five fingers running a path across your body.

God, he hates how much you’ve been touched by perfectly normal beings.

There’s that little monster again inside of him, calling him a freak, a monster, you’re ruining her life, Donnie, what makes you think she’s going to stay? Why would she want your imperfect, disgusting—

“Hey? Are you alright?” You ask him, arms draped around his neck from the back of the couch, a set of beautiful arms he’d want to be his noose any day.

“Y-yeah, just a little tired.” Lie, he was gonna stay up until the migraine took over or the exhausting did him in first.

“Then let’s sneak are way back to your room and lie down.” You kissed his cheek, nudging him by the shell to get up. Everyone was still mingling about so it was easy to slip away.

He entered his room that he shared many nights with you, it was hard to fathom it was only his now. Every little corner held something of yours and on nights you couldn’t stay over he found comfort in your lingering scent.

“You aren’t alright are you?” He caught your voice muffled from the shirt you were taking off, showing off skin he could pick out from a hundred yards away. How acquainted he was with each blemish, freckle, scar…

“Is there anything from your ex boyfriend that you preferred? …liked I mean, or that he has that I don’t?” This is a Pandora’s box and from the way your eyebrows shoot up he knows it’s a bad idea but Christ he’s floundering.

“Absolutely nothing, why are you bringing him up?” You tossed your shirt aside, kicking off your shoes next and progressively becoming more aware that Donnie was holding back a giant wave of something not good right now.

“I’m just trying to make sense of something… I know why you both broke up but you were with him, there was an appeal at some point.” He wants to look away, drop the conversation but his hands feel tense and his skin itchy.

“There was an appeal before I found out who the real him was, appeal went away pretty fast if you ask me, baby why are you—“

“What’s the appeal here?” He motioned to himself, to his form, his face, his everything. “Because I can’t see it for myself, I don’t know why you’re here…with me.” His voice felt lumpy, crackling like a detuned radio.

You stood stock still, shocked at his words.

“What’s bringing this on? I haven’t spoken to that asshole in years, Don. What appeal? He has none, I’m with you.” You took a step, he took one backwards.

“You’re going to want things I cannot give you even if I would sell my soul for them. I—I can’t give you kids, or a normal home, or marriage, for fuck sake look at me, where does this make sense??” He sat down aggressively on the bed, he needed to concentrate on something else than your worried face. With shakey hands he began to untie his boots.

He saw your feet first, through the thin film of tears, god he didn’t want to cry now.

Gently you took his glasses off and set them on the night table.

“What’s going on? Tell me the truth, why are you acting like this? Why are you bringing my ex up all of a sudden to fight—” The deep concern, the frown lines on your forehead, he had you so damn worried.

“You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” He didn’t mean to blow up but this hand bubbles, seeped over the mug and now there was no stopping it.

“I’m never going to understand why you would rather waste your life away with a monst—“ he felt your hands shoot up and cover his mouth.

“You are not a monster, Donatello, and if you ever use that stupid word to describe yourself ever again, I’m throwing a wrench at your head.” You let your hand slip away, instead you cupped his face. “I’m with you because I love you, you were my friend first and now you’re the most important thing in my life, and none of this is going to stop my feelings.” You rubbed your thumbs affectionately around his cheeks. Donnie’s gaze fell, eyes still red from holding back tears. He pressed his face against your sternum, and once you felt those large armed enclose around you, you hugged him tight.

“I—I’m sorry, I—fuck,” He sighed against your skin, finding comfort in your flesh as he often did.

“It alright, just please don’t ever question how I feel, okay?” You kissed the top of his head, letting yourself be pushed closer to him, he needed this, needed the physical reassurance. “I love you, Donnie, I love you so much.” You carresed him, cheek against the top of his head. Donnie’s hands found the back pockets of your jeans, hooked his fingers in and began to shove them down.

He needed more, he needed you and you knew it.

“I…I don’t want to stop. Please don’t ask me to stop.” He kissed each words onto your stomach, bit the periods onto your flesh and he dragged your underwear down as well. Effortlessly he picked you up and placed you on the bed with another feverish kiss that sent your head spinning. He bit more of those pleads onto your neck, grinding himself between your legs with intent of having your scent on his clothes forever.

It was messy, desperate and filled with longing. You somehow pushed down his pants with the heels of your feet and told him, gently and with need that you wanted him inside of you.

And he could never say no to you, he could never deny you a single thing.

So when he slipped in to the heat that he belonged to, to the woman that could drive him to burn the world at a moments time, he could feel a little less self hatred.

Your moan, long and aching, always a task to adjust to his size but never an unwelcome burn, blessed his ears. He needed this, he needed you inking those words and sounds with each thrust.

Donnie watched transfixed, enamored with your flushed skin and hooded eyes. Watched as your hands reached for him when he sat back on his knees. He hooked an arm beneath you and held you against him as he thrusted upwards with every intent of fucking these awful thoughts out.

“Fucking—Love you,” Donnie’s lips pressed against your own, the intimacy of spilling his love against your own lips too much for him. You moaned against his mouth, moving in tune with him to chase the high. ‘I love you’ you mouthed as you felt your voice be replaced with another lustful moan. Donnie half smiled, drunk off of your scent and deep into how perfect you felt wrapped around his cock. He held you like that, arms secure around you as he fucked the first load into you just as you came with a tightening and broken wail.

When you felt your back against the blankets and felt him continue to thrust, pushing past the oversensitivity, you knew he needed more.

He needed so much more.

[turnin9pag3]

GUYS ITS REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACKS BIRTHDAY I LOVE HIM SM SO IN HONOR OF HIM HERE ARE A TON OF THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF HIM

the movie 500 days of summer

the book a list of cages

the show i am not okay with this

the character viggo grimborn

the animal sugar glider (dont ask y idek)

All of the following lyrics:

“screaming while the exit signs read heavens waiting” (circles, ptv)

“im gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin til your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention” (i dont care if your contagious, ptv)

“why dont you call me out for leaving all the lights on? why dont you call?” (growing/dying, the backseat lovers)

“i know that good lives make bad stories” (sober to death, car seat headrest)

“youll ask why and there will be no answer so you ask for how long and there will be so answer then youll ask what can i do and there will be no answer and eventually you will shut up” (fill in the blank, car sear headrest)

“karma police arrest this man he talks in math he buzzes like a fridge hes like a detuned radio” (karma police, radiohead)

“try to, try to forget that your bones will dismantle and the dreams you had they’ll collide with time” (re do, modern baseball)

“laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes and perfect posture but youre barley scraping by” (the places you have come to fear the most, dashboard confessional)

“oh you never seem to notice my heart beats for you so ill open you up and make yours beat for me too” (mx sinister, idkhbtfm)

“and i went crazy again today looking for a strand to climb looking for a little hope” (paper bag, fiona apple)

“why am i always the bad guy when im just trying to help. this body means nothing to me. at all.” (this body means nothing to me, shrimp)

“id rather die than have to cry in front of you. fight or flight id rather lie than tell you im in love with you” (fight or flight, conan gray)

“im my own worst enemy… sometimes i dont wanna feel nothing on the inside” (complete collapse, sws)

“i dont want what you have i want to be you… my name is brutus but the people will call me rex” (brutus, the buttress)

he is probably my favorite character out of everything ive read or watched. his storyline is tragic and beautiful and im honestly obsessed with how its written out. an unknown martyr. the most poetic way to die.

Make sure to say happy birthday to the stars tonight for him! (or the sea 🤭)

[adriyoyosblog]

Karma police arrest this man he speaks in maths and he buzzes like a fridge , he is like a detuned radio

Karma police, I've given all I can It's not enough..

This is what you'll get when you m..s

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley: Sketches (For My Sweetheart The Drunk) (Columbia)

Jim Irvin, MOJO, June 1998

FANS OF Grace might find this album tough going. For one thing, it's hard to divorce the circumstances of its existence from the music – some of which is very beautiful, yet you know it wouldn't sound this way if Jeff Buckley had lived. In other words, you're listening to this record because he died.

Secondly, there are several moments that seem too private, things we probably shouldn't be hearing. At these times you might experience the same uneasy fascination you'd get from illicitly reading someone's diary. You might also find yourself distracted by questions like, "Who chose this running order?", "Why are there two versions of two songs with nothing much to choose between them?" or "Was this song finished?"

We'll never know if Jeff Buckley wanted anybody to hear the ugly clutter of ‘Haven't You Heard’, we can be certain he had more in mind for the complex ‘Murder Suicide Meteor Slave’ than the detuned, trebly mush it is here and we can only wonder at how its lovely Beatle-ish interlude would have turned out. Did he lay down the home-made cover of ‘Back In New York City’ (a Genesis song from The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway) with a view to putting it on record or simply for his own amusement, something to get the creative juices flowing? Is there any real value in hearing tracks as nascent as ‘Demon John’ or ‘Your Flesh Is So Nice’ – barely written songs, with arrangements just hinted at by slapdash guitars and extemporised melodies you know he'd have nailed later or abandoned completely? Is it right to include performances where his singing is unfocused, lazy or tired? Or those where the band are just feeling their way?

As I understand it, from talking to his management shortly after his death, Jeff Buckley's unreleased legacy runs thus: the remainder of the Live At Sin-E recordings; radio sessions and solo spots such as those on the French ‘Live At The Bataclan’ EP (which he hated); one outtake from Grace, ‘Forget Her’ (removed to make room for ‘So Real’); the "live in the studio" solo sets recorded during the making of Grace; a series of 24-track live recordings with the full band (some of these, like the extended version of Alex Chilton's ‘Kanga-Roo’, have appeared on B-sides and promo discs); the sessions recorded with Tom Verlaine in Memphis a few months before his death; a few tracks recorded in New York soon afterwards; and a large number of 4-track demos Buckley cut in the last weeks of his life.

After he drowned, the inevitable question of what to do with this material had to be faced. Manager Dave Lory spent days going through the tapes found in Jeff's house. He had to listen to everything, no matter what it said on the box, as Jeff had a habit of cutting demos on whatever came to hand. Sure enough, he found one new song halfway through side two of an old Michael Bolton promo cassette.

He then met up with Steve Berkowitz (Jeff's A&R man) and Andy Wallace (the producer of Grace), to make a definitive inventory of all the extant recordings and dub the demos onto digital masters. These were three of the men who knew Jeff's working methods best and they argued every day about what might be done with this stuff, which songs Jeff would have been happy with, how best to release the material or, indeed, if any of it should come out at all.

Just as they were finishing this process, they were 'fired' by Jeff's mother, Mary Guibert, who'd inherited her son's estate and assumed the responsibility of compiling an album with another Columbia A&R executive, Don DeVito, (who'd not worked extensively with Buckley while he was alive). They asked Buckley's friend, Chris Cornell of Soundgarden, to "sit in Jeff's seat". Andy Wallace was rehired to complete his mixes of the Verlaine sessions which make up Disc 1 of this collection.

When Buckley completed those tracks he told Lory that he "couldn't find his soul" in them. He was aware there was a lot of work still to do before he could cut a worthy follow-up to Grace, so he temporarily dismissed his band and retreated to his rented house in Memphis to revise the songs and write new ones. (Some of these, ‘Mood Swing Whiskey’, ‘Sky Blue Skin’, ‘Don't Listen To Anyone But Me’, ‘Woke Up In A Strange Place’ and ‘Let's Bomb The Moonlight’ remain in the can.) Disc 2 features seven of those demos, retakes of two of the songs on Disc 1, some CD-ROM material (which was not available for review) and a stray radio recording from 1992 of the country standard ‘Satisfied Mind’ ("I went with a satisfied mind"), clearly chosen as a pointed closer.

Diametrically opposed to it, Disc 1's opener, ‘The Sky Is A Landfill’, is a bleak, relentless torrent of anger. As "evil blacks the sky" Buckley advises that we "Don't suck the milk of flaccid Bill K Public's empty promise to the people". "This way of life is so devised to snuff out the mind that moves," he continues, moved to send a mail bomb to "Mr Strong Arm", who is "useless like the cops at the scene of a crime" Although impressive, it's a curious track to open with, throwing a grim shadow over what follows. It takes a few listens, then, but gradually Sketches' pearls begin to shine through.

‘Vancouver’ kicks off with a Byrdsian riff and a beautiful double-tracked falsetto, spinning into a dizzy song driven by piano, fuzz bass and crashing guitars. ‘Nightmares By The Sea’ is great, too. After an intro reminiscent of Nirvana's ‘Come As You Are’, it turns into a churning pop song – and check the lyrics: "Stay with me under these waves tonight/Be free for once in your life tonight! Bluebeard's young and handsome/So new to your bedroom floor/You know damn well where you're gone." Likewise, the a cappella ‘You And I’ (again, a song whose melody was not fully developed) starts with the line "Oh, the calm below that poisoned river wild". It can't be too long before someone ekes out a morbid dissertation concerning the water imagery in these songs.

However, it's the second track that will be this collection's calling card. ‘Everybody Here Wants You’ draws from the same divine well as ‘Lover, You Should've Come Over’ on Grace. It's a lump-in-the-throat soul ballad which sways like Smokey Robinson's ‘Cruisin'’ or Chic's ‘At Last I Am Free’. Jeff sings it in a tender falsetto with a hint of jealous ire shading the delicious, pleading chorus – "Everybody here wants you! Everybody here thinks he needs you/I'll be waiting right here just to show you our love will blow it all away" – as the bass tumbles along lyrically. Awkward middle-four aside, it's an instant classic. And it serves to make the lesser tracks here an even greater source of sadness, simultaneously reminding us that this wonderful voice has sung its last.

There's a lot of fine material still unheard and we must hope its trustees are careful with it. One thing's sure: a definitive selection will never exist, except in our heads and, one day perhaps, on our personal 'Ultimate Jeff' compilations.

At best, Sketches has much the same function and effect as The Beatles Anthology collections. It's a document of a great musical mind cranking into gear, a series of clues to what might have been. If you were hoping for a record to equal Grace, well, you'll be disappointed. But be assured that Jeff Buckley's sketches overshadow most artists' completed works.

[autistme]

do you hear 👂🏻 the jet plane ✈️ yawning 🥱 miles across the sky 🌌 do you hear 👂🏻the garbage 🗑️ truck 🚛 back down ⬇️ the boulevard 🏘️ setting off the car 🚗 alarms 🚨 as it passes by ❓do you hear 👂🏻 the static 📺 of one thousand detuned radios 📻 shut the window 🪟 love ❤️ keep the world 🌎 outside 🖼️ i dont ❌ want to think 🤔💭 about anyone 🧍🏻but the footsteps 👣 are getting louder 📢 drowning out the sound 🔊 of the rain 🌧️ as it knocks on the windowsill 🪟 im not 🙉 answering 🤳🏻 the phone 📵 let it ring 📳 lately ⏰ ive been feeling like 😞 a falling 📉 bomb 💣 the ground 🏘️ is getting closer and the sky 🌠 is falling down 👇🏻 this song 🎵 has been brought to you 🫵🏻 this song 🎶 has been brought to you 🫵🏻 by a falling bomb 💣 by a falling bomb 🧨

[just-your-average-tangerine]

Song of the day: June 24 2024

Killer Queen by Queen

About Queen:

Queen are a British rock band formed in London in 1970 by Freddie Mercury (lead vocals, piano), Brian May (guitar, vocals), and Roger Taylor (drums, vocals), later joined by John Deacon (bass). Their earliest works were influenced by progressive rock, hard rock, and heavy metal, but the band gradually ventured into more conventional and radio-friendly works by incorporating further styles, such as arena rock and pop rock.

About Killer Queen:

“Killer Queen” was the breakthrough song that turned Queen into worldwide rock stars. Peaking at #2 in the UK, the song became a hit in seven other European countries as well. “Killer Queen” was the first Queen single to successfully ‘cross the pond’, becoming a top 20 hit in the U.S. and Canada, as well as a top 30 hit in Australia.

In the New Musical Express of November 2, 1974, the song’s writer and Queen’s frontman Freddie Mercury elucidates on this song: “It’s about a high class call girl. I’m trying to say that classy people can be whores as well. That’s what the song is about, though I’d prefer people to put their interpretation upon it – to read into it what they like.”

While it may seem like a typical popular song, the structure utilised in the song is quite unusual. There are 4 bar phrases immediately followed by 5 bar phrases and then 2 bar phrases, with tempo changing from 12/8 to 6/8 and vice versa.

The main key being Eb major is very unorthodox for Rock music, as guitars don’t usually play flats. Brian May, who pioneered a heavier hard rock sound, had been struck with hepatitis during the majority of the recording. Upon initially hearing the song, Brian was shocked over the more progressive, lighter sound. Nevertheless, the rest of the band left space for Brian to record his own iconic guitar melodies.

The song includes prominent uses of multi-tracking, not just on the vocals, but also in the guitar solo. Other effects used include the flanger (pitch bends), panning (sound moving from the left ear to the right), portamento/glissando (sliding from one note to another), distortion (giving a creamy feel), wah-wah on the guitar, string bending and sliding.

The band had decided not to use the ubiquitous synthesiser, as they thought it was superfluous. Instead, instrumentation utilised includes a jangle piano (detuned), drum kit, bass guitar, electric guitar and vocals.

[postoctobrist]

arrest this man, he talks in maths

he buzzes like a fridge

he’s like a detuned radio

[dustedmagazine]

Cuticles — Major Works (Siltbreeze)

Cuticles crank rough, scrappy garage punk in remote New Zealand, the guitars a rain of nails, the drums hammering them home. The songs fly outward from a whirling center, always in the process of disintegrating into pure noise. It’s not so much listening as catching the bits and stitching them together. Ragged choruses, incendiary discord, pure exhilarating entropy can be fit with effort into songs.

Cuticles’ four members have been in other Antipodean bands, which I don’t know but you may be better informed. One guitarist, Matthew Plunkett, was in Trendees, while the other, Lisa Preston, did time in Nux Vomica and the Portage. Add a bass player, a drummer and the most rudimentary of recording equipment, and voila, Major Works.

The big radio hit might be “Cheese in My Brain,” a song that slouches to oblivion like a Television Personalities tune falling over its own feet, or the Swell Maps after a 100-hour dance marathon. It’s a pop song that’s taken a hit to the head and wobbles dangerously from side to side. Plunkett sings the chorus (about cheese in his brain, if you were wondering) in his brash, what-are-you-staring-at tenor, while Preston joins in at the giddy climaxes. You could sing along if you were so inclined, though you’d want to watch the shrapnel spraying out of detuned guitar strings.

Plunkett writes most of the songs, some of them premeditated, others plucked out of the air with the tape running, but Preston contributed a few, including “Rabbit Fur Lined Leather Glove” with its woozy Peter Gunn bass line. She’s a presence, to be sure, with her dead-eyed chants and shrieking dissonances. The guitars fritz out in wild bent arcs here, as the song chugs on towards the far distance.

Once in a while, things die down a little, and you can see the outlines of personal, even slightly vulnerable indie fuzz, as in the stately “Afterlife” where the guitar clangor turns grand and architectural and Plunkett’s howl goes somewhere almost anthemic. Here’s a band that’s still fumbling towards its great, definitive song, the one that slots into the limbic system in a Cuticles-sized hole and stays there forever more. Meanwhile, they’re making a wonderful racket with all sorts of potential, and that in itself is worth the ride.

Jennifer Kelly

[quackoyesyes]

Karma Police, arrest this man

He talks in maths, he buzzes like a fridge

He’s like a detuned radio

Back with the the social network art taken with the worst camera in the world!

[tomorrowillbeyou]

To be honest do you hear the jet plane yawning miles across the sky hear the garbage truck back down the boulevard setting off the car alarms as it passes by do you hear the static of one thousand detuned radios shut the window love keep the world outside i don't wanna think about anyone and the footsteps are getting louder drowning out the sound of the rain as it knocks on the windowsill im not answering the phone let it ring lately ive been feeling like a falling bomb the ground is getting closer and the sky is falling down

[likesaly]

Karma Police, Arrest this man! He talks in maths; He buzzes like a fridge ...He's like a detuned radio... /Lyr

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Karma Police, arrest this man

He talks in maths

He buzzes like a fridge

He's like a detuned radio

 

Karma police, arrest this girl

Her Hitler hairdo is

Making me feel ill

And we have crashed her party

 

This is what you get

This is what you get

This is what you get when you mess with us

 

Karma police

I've given all I can

It's not enough

I've given all I can

But we're still on the payroll

 

This is what you get

This is what you get

This is what you get when you mess with us

 

And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself

Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself

 

For for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself

Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself

Is your enter key three times l o n g e r than regular

[something-tofightfor]

WIP tag game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips.

I was tagged by @oonajaeadira and decided that PERHAPS playing along will get things flowing again. (Thank you for tagging!)

This is not an exhaustive list - but it's something.

Competing For Christmas 7: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Shattered

So Tired of Acting Tough

All I Ever Needed

Root Pearl 5

Sweet Tea (very very loosely titled)

... But It Can Be Better 1

He's Like A Detuned Radio

On Deck

Caught On 6

It's Dangerous To Fall In Love VII: Only Smoke Is Left

UNTITLED HORROR AU

So many people have already done this that tagging seems pointless. If you see it and want to participate, please do.

[britomart]

dni if you talk in maths, buzz like a fridge, or are like a detuned radio. i'm calling the karma cops on you