#lucerne lowe

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

quick lucerne in the wisteria

[greysnotsane]

Forever screaming the opening lyrics of as lucerne / the low at the top of my lungs no matter how sore my throat is

[loscampbracket]

[lunatunafish]

Los Campeinos! As Lucerne / The Low from my 3DS (headphone warning - it sounds really bad)

Toronto, Canada June 20, 2024

[onleylonely]

can't believe I've met the guy who wrote my favorite song twice lmao like what on earth

[theramseyloft]

Could you rank the most intelligent to least intelligent performance breeds you’ve ever dealt with?

As well as the most to least affectionate Show breeds?

If you consider the Feral a breed in itself, it is, hands down, the most intelligent.

They are the product of generations of birds living without human care, who have had to dodge predators and scrounge what food they can, surviving on their wits alone and passing their knowledge to each successive generation.

If you do not consider Ferals to be a breed, then the Racing Homer is the most intelligent performer.

They have safe nests and thrive in human care, if and only if they succeed at dodging predators and finding their way home over trips up to 500 miles away, which can take days, through any kind of weather.

Those that do not succeed are lucky to survive. Most fall prey to hawks, vehicles, and exhaustion.

Those very lucky few who do live long enough to be found are the vast majority of rescues in most places, typically outnumbering even ferals and utility kings, especially in the fall.

Birmingham Rollers

and Portuguese Tumblers

Only have to dodge predators in short flights above their lofts.

Both breeds are trained to fly in a team called a Kit, required to be extremely biddable by their trainer, who acts in part as their predator spotter and calls them in either at the end of a performance, or when a predator is sighted.

Biddability requires intelligence, but not nearly as much as the independent decision making capability by which Homers navigate and ferals survive.

These are the four performers I have the most hands on experience with.

I can't really report on birds I have not worked with many of.

As to the exhibition breeds:

This bird does not belong to me.

He is Cotta's great Grandsire.

But I have to list the Show Line Danzig Highflier as the single most affectionate exhibition breed for the rock solid, determinedly sweet temperament that has passed down to all of his descendants, regardless of what they were mixed with for four straight generations.

When socialized with humans, they are the loviest things you can lay hands on shy of an imprint.

They are even one of the very rare relatively low dust breeds, though I am not sure exactly how that inherits.

Frillbacks

This breed is an entire loaf of bread.

They are extremely mellow, and not because they are stupid or flight is difficult or painful.

Most of them that I have socialized have sought out my lap as the most comfortable place to loaf, and will loaf with a person they like for hours.

This exceptionally sweet temperament passes reliably to their offspring.

Once again, this is not my bird.

But I have to rank the American Show Racer very high because of the reliability with which the breed's unflappably mellow temperament has passed to its decedents in my experience thus far.

This is an unshakable brick of a bird, that, when socialized, is very tractable and docile.

Lucerne

Extremely docile, but ranked lower because even birds that out right disliked me were very tolerant and relaxed in the hand.

There is a huge difference between docile/tolerant and affectionate, and affectionate is what I want.

Show Type Racing Homer

Very mellow baseline temperament, but not necessarily inclined to be a friendly bird.

Classic Old Frill

I love this breed dearly.

But I have to place them here because their temperament is very hit or miss.

Depending on how they are socialized, you will either have a doting cuddle bug, or an extremely skittish bird that wants nothing to do with you.

I have had an even mix of both result when I bred them for show, and birds that largely ignored me also came to be, but those were rarer than either cuddle bugs or skittish.

Those that do end up being cuddle bugs? The single most affectionate seekers of human company I have ever had the pleasure of handling!

That's all six I will be using for temperament.

Giant Homer

An absolute bowling ball of a bird, so when I call them the biggest cuddle bug, I mean that literally.

This was, initially, a Utility breed, meaning they were bred for meat.

As with most meat animals, like Flemish and Continental Giant bunnies, that means that these birds are two things; extremely heavy and extremely docile.

But because of the shift from meat bird to show bird by people who liked the big round aesthetic, part of that docility is their natural temperament, but as with boiler chickens, a lot of it is from simply being too heavy to comfortably move.

These are prone to a lot of uncomfortable health issues, from hyper rapid growth of calluses on the soles of their feet to feather deformities. (Both Bertha and Agnes suffered from abscessed flights that grew in upside down and backwards and couldn't break skin that was not supposed to have closed over the follicle.)

They do not like to move because frankly, their feet and wings tend to hurt, so they will gladly seek out a soft, warm lap to sit on.

Voorburg Shield Croppers

Are the only breed I know of with a temperament requirement written into their breed standard.

They are required to blow and dance to woo the judges, but this is not so much friendly as horny behavior, making this particular breed more inclined to see humans as potential mates regardless of imprinting.

When blended with other breeds, it leads to very pushy, aggressively forward cocks that absolutely will not take no for an answer and will fight you to the gates of hell about it.

This behavior is not particularly unpleasant in pure Voorburgs because their inflated globe is not a physical trait, but a genetically coded behavior. (Fascinatingly, passed on by a dominant gene).

Basically, they are compelled to keep their globe inflated most of the time, and that compulsion is stronger than the typical compulsion of a pigeon cock to bite to initiate the driving phase of courtship.

They can't hold their beaks open to bite without deflating their globe, and even if they could, the globe inflates far wider than the beak is long.

So, where an aggressively amorous cock of any other breed will charge in a bite, Voorburgs charge in and boop into you with their soft inflated globe.

They are harmless and adorable as they are, but that genetic drive to determinedly court humans is why I will not be incorporating any more into the project.

Valencian Figurita

These have mostly been very sweet in my experience, though that is largely dependent on bloodline.

I have lucked out with most of them so far, and their offspring tend to inherit a very demure, sweet temper.

I have stopped working with them because they are so tiny that they often need at least one of their young to be fostered under other similar sized birds like Ringneck Doves.

Old German Owl

I have met some absolutely wonderful OGO.

But the vast majority have been fairly skittish, and so have their offspring with other breeds.

Temperament is mostly genetic in pigeons. Flightiness, for example, is a single dominant gene.

It's hell to breed out because it isn't visible and can be overcome by high intelligence.

But exhibition breeds tend to be pretty low intelligence, simply because there is so much less need of it when you exist to look pretty in a show pen.

If you can, try to meet the breeder in person and see how their birds react to them.

Astrid's dearly loved her, and she was extremely sweet tempered. A far cry from OGO I had purchased at shows.

Her children were very sweet tempered too.

So don't count them out, just research the breeder.

Komorner Tumbler

This is no longer a flying breed, and as such it has lost quite a lot of its intelligence.

That said, it has lost a lot of flightiness too!

These have a good probability of being fairly sweet and happy to seek out human attention.

If you don't mind the bird not being very bright, a Komorner might be an ok fit for some one looking for a bird that's easy to socialize.

Nun

Nuns, on the other hand, are almost notorious for having lost almost all survival instinct.

Oh, they're sweet as they can be, but described as being too stupid to move out from underfoot or recognize their own eggs as something other than a weirdly hard poop.

They are often fostered under other breeds because they will poop an egg on the floor, if it's lucky, and just walk away.

Chinese Owl

I have heard that these are docile, but that has been absolutely none of my experience with them!

Flightiness is a dominant gene, and these nervous messes have made skittish terrors of nearly everything they have mixed with in my care.

Same goes for the striking Old Dutch Capuchin.

I have decided to remove these from the list of breeds I intend to blend simply because their unique embellishment is not enough to balance out their high strung skittishness.

Lahore

These lovely anime penguin cosplayers are not by any means skittish!

While you will get sweet individuals on occasion, typically cocks, the hens will fight God!

They are a lot less inclined to be combative with other pigeons as they are to be with you, but if you get one that likes you, she will fight god over the right to be in contact with you!

While I have had a Mindian, American, and Garden fantail, I do not have enough hands on experience with these breeds to evaluate them fairly for this question.

The Garden fantail is the only breed I plan to incorporate primarily for its structural embellishments, rather than temperament or intelligence.

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 6 - End of Spring: When a Planted Seed Sprouts

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette hash things out. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette standing in Enkanomiya (they should really set another event here)

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“Monsieur Neuvillette should be back around this time…”

You were sitting in the kitchen, working on your embroidery again. Normally, you would be doing this in the garden, but there was a trial this morning, which meant rain was coming.

The sky was already covered in gray, low-hanging clouds. It looked like there would be quite a storm today.

“Pardon me, Madame?” Marie said. She was cleaning the countertops.

“I was just saying that Monsieur Neuvillette should have been home an hour ago. I wonder if something happened.”

Marie turned around and looked at you. “Are you worried about him?”

“Well, not exactly worried, but he’s usually home around this time when there’s a morning trial.”

Maybe it had gone on longer than expected, but from what you read in the papers, today’s trial was a run-of-the-mill thievery case, so it shouldn’t have taken very long.

When you explained your reasoning to Marie, she stared at you thoughtfully for a few moments.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking how similar the two of you are,” she said, smiling. “Unexpected things tend to happen in his line of work, but if you are concerned, why not go and see him?”

“Go see him? Is that…okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…” you couldn’t think of a good answer. “I’m not sure if he’d be happy to see me.”

“And how would you know that, Madame? Personally, I think seeing a familiar face after an arduous day at work would lift anyone’s spirits.”

You thought about arguing that you and Neuvillette had barely had a conversation since you moved in and that it might do more harm than good if you went to receive him, but Marie was already shooing you to the door and bringing you your coat and umbrella. It looked like you had no choice.

“One last thing, Madame. I’ve worked for Monsieur Neuvillette for many years, and I can tell you a few things about him. For one thing, if you don’t make the first move, he will not do anything either.”

You stared at her in confusion. “…Okay?”

“Go to him,” Marie repeated, then opened the front door for you.

And just how am I meant to do that when I don’t even know the way? You thought as you wandered the streets of Fontaine.

You knew that Neuvillette went to the Opera in a private vessel, but you had no idea where the docks were.

Just as you passed by the Café Lucerne, a familiar-looking Melusine in a Marechausee Phantom uniform greeted you. “Good afternoon, Madame! Out for a walk?”

“Good afternoon, Officer…uh…”

“It’s Menthe, Madame.”

“My apologies, Officer Menthe. I’m looking for the docks where Monsieur Neuvillette’s boat would land.”

“Oh, then allow me to take you there! I believe Monsieur Neuvillette will be arriving there shortly.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

As you followed Menthe, who was skipping ahead of you, you felt raindrops land in your hair and opened your umbrella.

Truth be told, you had no idea what you were going to do once you got there.

Things between you and Neuvillette were as awkward as ever, and though you tried to convince yourself that things were fine the way they were, a feeling of dissatisfaction and frustration grew day by day.

I would like to be on friendly terms with him.

Maybe it was from all the covert observation you were doing, or just from the fact that you lived in such close proximity with him, but you found yourself becoming more interested in him as a person.

It's impolite, the voice of reason in your head said. You shouldn’t get too curious. It’ll only end in him pushing you away.

You thought of your debutante days, when you would try to learn more about the young gentlemen who interested you. Eventually, you stopped trying after so many failures and heartbreaks.

But with Neuvillette…somehow, you wanted things to be different. Perhaps it was because he had chosen you of all women to be his wife, even if it was partly because you were in a desperate bind. And, embarrassingly, it was also probably because he was the first man to take an interest in you.

What’s more, a part of you suspected that he wanted you to approach him as well. There were times when you would catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye like he wanted to speak with you. And sometimes, when you were still awake in bed after he returned home, you could hear heavy footsteps stop in front of your door before turning to the other side of the second floor.

You couldn’t prove anything. But what if?

This relationship had a predestined end. Your paths were only intersecting briefly before their inevitable separation. But until then, why not turn this into a pleasant memory you could smile back on?

You were chosen for this role, as vague as it might be. You should fulfill it by doing things the right, proper way.

You walked down the brick-paved streets with resolve in your heart.

Menthe led you to the private docks. There was already a vessel stopped there, and a tall blue figure was disembarking.

“There he is!” Menthe shouted suddenly. “Monsieur Neuvillette! Madame is here for you!”

The blue figure stopped and turned in your direction.

Then, she turned to you and said, “I must return to my station now, Madame. Good luck!”

“Hold on a minute!” you said, but the Melusine was already skipping away, leaving you all alone.

Taking in a deep breath, you turned around and found Neuvillette standing a short distance away. You couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

“Um…hello there, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said. As if on cue, it began to rain. Great.

“Did Marie send you here?” he asked. His voice was quiet, almost blending in with the rain.

Your heart sank a little. You really messed up. But hopefully, it could still be saved.

“No,” you shook your head vigorously. “I came here because I wanted to see you, sir.”

The rain, strangely, seemed to intensify at that moment.

“You need not force yourself to go out in this weather,” Neuvillette said. “It’s better to stay home than to risk illness for my sake.”

“Well, in this season, if you’re going to stay home because of a little rain, then you shouldn’t go outside at all,” you said. “Besides, I’ve never walked in the rain before. It’s such a novel experience. I can see why you like it so much.”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything, but you could detect bafflement in his gaze. You couldn’t blame him. You would feel the same way if someone who had been avoiding you for weeks suddenly started acting friendly with you.

“Are you going to the Palais, sir, or back home?”

“Home,” he said. He was even less talkative than usual. Presiding over trials probably took a lot of energy out of him. Maybe being in the rain was a way for him to recharge.

“Very well, then,” you said. “Shall we be off?”

The two of you walked in silence. You noticed that Neuvillette chose the more secluded roads with fewer people before he looked down at you.

“My apologies, we should be taking the quickest way home.”

He then proceeded to double back the way you came before stopping again.

“Or perhaps we should travel more discreetly…” he murmured to himself.

All around you, people were either running for shelter or clustered under awnings.

“Where did this storm come from?” you heard a man complain.

“My laundry’s still outside!” a woman moaned.

Neuvillette looked around at all the commotion, then closed his eyes, as though resigned.

“The shorter way back, then,” he said, walking faster.

You hurried to catch up with him. No one had noticed the two of you yet, but they would soon.

“Is there a reason why you prefer more secluded roads, sir?” you asked, even though you could somewhat guess the reason.

You didn’t really expect an answer, but Neuvillette said, “I simply find it tiresome to refuse the umbrellas people would offer me whenever I decide to take a stroll in the rain. I don’t know what’s so strange about the sight of it.”

The genuine confusion and annoyance in his voice made you giggle a little. Marie was right after all. Who knew even someone like him would be affected by the opinions of others? It was endearing, in a way.

“What is it?” he asked when he heard you laugh.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “Oh, here’s an idea. Why don’t you hold my umbrella for me? That way, people would say, ‘Look at the Chief Justice being such a gentleman, holding an umbrella for that homely-looking woman,’ and no one would think anything of you being in the rain.”

“You are not homely,” he said, but for the first time, the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. He took your umbrella and held it over your head.

The two of you continued walking in silence. Not exactly like the awkward kind of silence that was often between you two at home, but something more hopeful, like you both knew what the other was going to say and were waiting for the other to voice it.

You decided to take the first step.

“Might I guess what is on your mind, sir?”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Well, perhaps I am being too presumptuous, but I would wager a guess that my current strange behavior is one of the things bothering you?”

It was a daring guess, but you were seemingly proven right when Neuvillette didn’t say anything and turned his head.

“You must be wondering if I’m being possessed right now, or if I had eaten something strange.”

Neuvillette still didn’t say anything, but you caught the corner of his lips turning up again.

“I am a bit baffled by you,” he confessed. “You present yourself like you wish to have as little contact with me as possible, but then you would do things that seem contrary to that behavior, almost as though you’re interested in me. I am still lacking in terms of understanding human emotions, or how to make myself approachable, it seems.”

“No, sir, you've done nothing wrong!” you said, the words coming out louder than you meant it. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Would…would you care to listen to my explanation?”

Neuvillette nodded.

You took in a deep breath. “You see, sir, I know you said that there’s no need for us to act like a couple, but it felt wrong for me to not learn anything about you, so I decided to do some, um, covert observation.”

“So that was why you…”

“Yes, that was why I’ve been watching and avoiding you at the same time. I didn’t want you to find me a bother, or to dislike me. But that clearly was the wrong choice. I deeply apologize for that. It must have been very discomforting for you.”

Neuvillette said nothing. He stepped over a large puddle, and then helped you over it. His legs are very long, you thought idly, then caught yourself staring.

“I can relate to the covert observation part,” he said after a while. “Although I must confess, it is perhaps for the best that you have not chosen to pursue the profession of detective.”

He’s making a joke? Maybe you should have been offended, but all you felt was relief. “You were probably expecting me to be a more sensible, mature person when you chose me as your wife, didn’t you?”

And you were those things. But when it came to Neuvillette, for whatever reason, you acted completely unlike yourself.

Neuvillette stayed silent for a moment before saying, “…it’s not always unpleasant to discover new sides of a person one finds interesting.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. “…I suppose?”

“This does explain why you were staring at my mouth during dinner that one time.”

You felt your cheeks turn red. Honestly, you were surprised that Neuvillette hadn’t thrown you out of his house because of your weird behavior. “Please don’t talk about that.”

“I thought I had something stuck in my teeth.”

Sorry, sorry! “Can we just pretend the past month never happened and start with a clean slate?”

A small chuckle escaped from Neuvillette’s lips. “I would love nothing more than that.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

Your heart felt lighter than it had ever been in the past weeks. As though mirroring this feeling, the steady drumming of raindrops let up a little, and you could see rays of sunlight shining through gaps in the dark clouds.

“I’m curious, sir, what did you think of me while I was doing all those things?”

Neuvillette put his hand on his chin. “I thought I had scared you in some way, which was why you always left the rooms I entered and watch me with that cautious look in your eyes.”

All you could do was force out awkward laughter and stare at your feet. You were so lucky that Neuvillette’s heart was as broad as the sea itself.

“And also,” he added after a pause. “You always call me ‘sir’ and ‘Monsieur Neuvillette,’ even though we are married.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, but...” Neuvillette cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

You felt bad that Neuvillette seemed a bit disappointed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to call him by only his name (which was also your last name now, albeit temporarily).

You two continued to walk in silence. You were near the house now. The rain seemed to have stopped completely now, but Neuvillette was still holding your umbrella over your head.

“Also,” he suddenly said, quietly. “I could never dislike you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “...I see. Um, thank you, sir. I’ll try my best to be worthy of it.”

"And do you...dislike me?” Neuvillette stopped, looking right into your eyes.

You blinked. This man, you realized, could be clueless about some things sometimes. But on the other hand, wasn’t it good to have verbal confirmation of things, instead of constantly guessing and hoping?

“If I disliked you, sir,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I would not be coming out into the rain to talk with you like this.”

A full smile appeared on Neuvillette’s face this time. A light seemed to radiate from within him. You never knew that someone’s face could change so much from a simple change of expression. It took your breath away.

“I hope that I am worthy of that as well.”

“You know, I’ve always been curious about that favorite drink of yours. What is it?”

After getting home and drying off, you sat in the parlor with Neuvillette. His silver goblet was sitting on the small table, filled with that mysterious liquid like always.

“Would you like to try it?”

You hesitated a moment before nodding. You could hold your drink pretty well, and you doubted that Neuvillette would let you drink anything dangerous for you.

“Very well then, I shall get another cup for you,” Neuvillette said, before leaving for the kitchen. If you had to describe his gait with a literary expression, then he would be walking “with a spring in his step.”

He quickly returned with another silver cup and placed it in front of you. You peered into it. It contained that same clear, odorless liquid.

“Shall we make a toast?” Neuvillette said, sitting back down.

“To what?”

“To our new friendship, of course.”

Friendship. You weren’t strangers, but neither did you have romantic feelings for each other, despite being married. But there was something warm there. Friendship was a perfectly adequate, broad term to describe what you two wordlessly wanted with each other.

He raised his cup to yours, and you clinked yours with his. You took a sip of the drink. It’s surprisingly flavorless. Refreshing, but flavorless, just like water. Wait a minute, this is water!

“How is it?” Neuvillette asked, watching you.

“This is just water!” you said. “I thought it was some kind of fancy alcohol, but it’s really just water. No wonder I didn’t...”

You were about to say “Smell anything back then,” but decided to keep it to yourself. Some things should remain unknown.

“Just water?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow. “This is pure water from the springs of Mondstadt. It’s an exquisite delicacy. Is it not so very different from the waters of Fontaine.”

You racked your brain, trying to recall the taste of Fontaine tap water. “I can’t tell the difference, really.”

“I see.” Neuvillette said and looked down. He sounded vaguely disappointed.

“Demonstrate it to me, then,” you found yourself saying. “I want to understand what you like, since we’re friends after all.”

Neuvillette looked at you then, his eyes widened imperceptibly. “Of course. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with several carafes full of identical-looking liquid, you thought to yourself, What have I gotten myself into? But somehow, as you listened to his voice, more animated than you’d ever heard it, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too annoyed.

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

For Flotsam • What Death Leaves Behind • A Portrait Of The Trequartista As A Young Man • Cemetery Gaits • Glue Me • As Lucerne/The Low • Avocado, Baby • Let It Spill • The Time Before The Last Time • Selling Rope (Swan Dive To Estuary)

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

[unlimitedhappinessforever]

Cannot believe my dad is letting us get RAPED at current used car market prices when he's sitting on a low mileage 06 Lucerne that's been babied its whole life that he doesn't even need. Im gonna have to pay 11k for a low miles '12 civic.

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

for someone else

[goodnighttexas]

los campy bitches PLEASE INDULGE ME ON THIS POLL

[loscampbracket]

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

The dying Lion of Lucerne, sculpted by Lukas Ahorn is one of the world's most famous monuments. It was carved out of natural rock in memory of the heroic deaths of the Swiss mercenaries at the Tuileries in 1792. Mark Twain described the Lion of Lucerne as the saddest and most moving piece of rock in the world.

The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low cliff — for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff. His size is colossal, his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, his protecting paw rests upon the lilies of France. Vines hang down the cliff and wave in the wind, and a clear stream trickles from above and empties into a pond at the base, and in the smooth surface of the pond the lion is mirrored, among the water-lilies. Around about are green trees and grass. The place is a sheltered, reposeful woodland.

More info here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lion_Monument

[haloslips]

Shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people. tagged by @msmargaretmurry tybb!!

(tidal doesn't have 'on repeat' and we're just a couple days too early for my september most listened playlist to drop, but i will forget if i don't do this now. so i'm putting my all-time most played playlist on shuffle and will go from there!)

songs about your girlfriend - los campesinos!

whiskey on you - nate smith

positive charge - the gaslight anthem

interlude - kelsea ballerini

as lucerne/the low - los campesinos!

all my love - noah kahan

everywhere, everything - noah kahan

let it spill - los campesinos!

bzrp music sessions, vol. 54 - bizarrap, arcangel

weird goodbyes - the national ft. bon iver

fun little exercise!! i briefly forgot about no. 9, this song slaaaaaps. not even mad there are 3 los camp songs on here that just fully tracks

let's see if i can come up w 10 people lmao. @officialdietcoke @wisteriawatching @bareniabirkin @zeegras @spiceberrie (sorry if ur supposed to be working rn) @junkshop-disco @fannyyann @muffyblogs @raftings @starmotions wow i did it. no obligation but tag me if you do so i can see!!

[dustedmagazine]

Sandwell District — Where Next? (The Point of Departure Recording Co.)

It should have been a question. The transcontinental collective known as Sandwell District had been defunct and assumed shuttered for years, its fax machine disconnected, its Situationist International Tumblr since overtaken, when the sudden, unexpected announcement in early 2023 of a reissue effort for 2010’s celebrated Feed-Forward revived interest among the techno faithful. Its key members had been operating independently for long enough that the prospect of a return was sufficiently dim, yet here was proof of life — that the mark of anonymous, forward-thinking dance music from these corners hadn’t yet been buried. Half a year on from the reissue, another curious missive in the form of a compilation and the announcement of a Primavera Sound gig. Something was afoot. “Where next?” should’ve been appended directly with “Why now?”

Instead, it’s an elegy.

Juan Mendez (aka Silent Servant) died alongside fellow Los Angeles artist Luis Vasquez (The Soft Moon) and Mendez’s partner Simone Ling January 18th at the age of 46. Every review of Where Next? you read will address this, so it’s not necessary to belabor its circumstances or the outpouring of grief in its wake, but suffice to say that Mendez was beloved in L.A. and beyond for his work both as a producer — which he was still a master of, as his (ill-)fittingly titled In Memoriam EP out in November on Tresor confirms — and, crucially to Sandwell, its visual language. One of the key components of Sandwell District was its resolute anonymity; for years, if you were buying music off these guys, it was white label 12s with no identification save a stamp of the name and a fax number. Mendez was the one who gave the group that Situationist-inspired aesthetic, lent depth and a difficult but still discernible additional dimension that otherwise may not have been there. In retrospect, it feels like no accident that the zine, the music and the “moment” all collided at the same time; four protagonists with years of experience behind them peaking in simpatico is an exceedingly rare thing in the dance world, and to have it happen as it did was both carefully orchestrated and worth all the praise. Dusted was no exception.

Without Mendez, Sandwell District’s revival now feels precarious, uncomfortable, indeterminate. The remaining core members — Karl O’Connor (aka Regis), Dave Sumner (Function) and Peter Sutton (Female) — must return to and reassess the question of this very compilation, whose existence initially struck me as a cynical money grab but, more charitably and with more consideration, could also have been intended as a siren for something new en route, a way of reminding those who were there and a slap in the face to those who weren’t that this group wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill Tuesday night Berghain residents, this was something else.

And what was that? Take a listen: From 2002 to 2012, a dozen tracks assembled for this comp mine Sandwell District (the label) for a retrospective that graphically displays the production talent at work while still leaving something on the table. The credits here all say “Sandwell District &,” but it’s superfluous; regardless of liner notes, however, the music holds up and you know what you’re getting right from the off with Function’s “Reykjavik,” originally from 2007’s “Isolation” 12”. A wobbling, heavy low end and the lightest touch of hi-hat establish the pulse, with a twinkling alien transmission straight from a 1950s sci-fi movie offering counterweight. It’s the crashing handclap and subsequent, seemingly endless decay at 30 seconds that really wakes you up, though — like the uneasy ambiance, a familiar trope of the group’s oeuvre but one forever deployed with the deftest of touches.

“Reykjavik” is one of the two earliest songs from this compilation; the other, CH-Signal Laboratories (8003 Lucerne)’s “Hypnotica Scale (Original Mix),” preceded it in ‘07 and was originally titled simply as “Scale 1 (Original Mix).” It’s a rolling IDM number that feels more primitive, less cognizant than the productions that would follow in its use of space in your headphones. It’s also arguably the thinnest track here from one of the few names in Sandwell’s history that was never fully declassified but to my ears sounds like Sumner’s work.

As the most prominent faces of the collective (Mendez was reticent and Sutton all but invisible at the group’s peak), O’Connor and Sumner often seemed to be the ones with the heaviest hands in final output, too — consider Sumner did the final Fabric mixdown, for instance. The balance gets partly redressed here: O’Connor gets credit for two songs and two edits; Sumner gets five songs (six if you count CH-Signal); Mendez gets four; and Sutton gets a song and a remix under the Kalon alias, which he shared alongside Karl Meier, a fellow member of O’Connor’s Birmingham-based Downwards posse. It works to great effect; if you hadn’t known this was a compilation spanning half a decade and not a cohesive album from a single set of sessions, nothing gives it away. Both sequencing and pace are thoughtfully examined as the album obliterates your speakers at the proper volume and eventually rolls into the station after some 70 minutes with the only song that really lets you up for air, “Inter.”

Still, questions remain. Timing aside, foremost among them is why this comp starts with tracks from 2007 and not 2002; that’s scything half of the label’s existence out of the picture, and it’s not like “Untergang” or “Cally 2” are much the worse for wear at this remove. More pointedly, why are any singles missing at all? A double or triple LP either mixed to its constituents’ satisfaction or arranged chronologically would’ve been equally potent.

Another question: Wherefore art thou, Rrose? Like Meier, Yves de May and Bob Ostertag, Seth Horvitz existed on the outskirts of the District, only entering the frame in Feed-Forward’s wake — but it feels grossly unjust to neglect Rrose’s contributions in particular as the label wound down and its members moved on. What I said at the time of “Merchant of Salt” stands: Sandwell’s methods were perhaps best executed by an outsider who subsequently struck out into more experimental lands, extending the spirit of the collective’s reach beyond the vision of its original members; in a way, Rrose alone best answered the question posed by this compilation, which only makes their absence more conspicuous.

As with everything else swirling about Sandwell District, explanations will trickle out as glyphs or remain scant, incomplete, perhaps even contradictory. Maybe we won’t know for weeks or months; maybe we will never know. This is all part and parcel of the operation, which remains fun for the sake of intrigue but as listeners can only really leave us to trust our ears and hearts. Scrape away the calcified grayscale complexion, then, and you have what lies beyond the questions — you have the real answer, the one that matters most. Did I say elegy? Sorry, I meant panegyric. Long may it be heard.

Patrick Masterson

[ausetkmt]

Atlanta removing ‘Lion of the Confederacy’ statue from historic Oakland Cemetery

The city of Atlanta is set to remove a 127-year-old Confederate monument from Oakland Cemetery after it has repeatedly attracted vandals wielding sledgehammers and spray paint cans.

The City Council passed a resolution Monday evening declaring that the city should remove the “Lion of the Confederacy” monument and place it in temporary storage. The removal could happen as soon as this week, according to a member of City Council.

In recent years the statue has been defaced with graffiti, red latex and hit with objects like a pickaxe and sledgehammer.

The statue was built by T.M. Brady and dedicated on Confederate Memorial Day in 1894 to honor the 3,000 unknown Confederate dead resting in Oakland Cemetery. The statue depicts a wounded or dead lion with its right paw resting on a cannonball partially concealed by Confederate flag.

The lion’s removal follows years of discussion among city leaders about how to address contentious Confederate iconography in Atlanta. In 2017, then-mayor Kasim Reed signed off on a 40-page report written by an 11-member panel that included recommendations related to Confederate symbols in the city.ExplorePhotos: Confederate memorials in metro Atlanta

Among the recommendations was the renaming of Confederate Avenue in the Grant Park and Ormewood Park neighborhoods to United Avenue, and attaching contextual markers to monuments like the Lion of the Confederacy and a 65-foot-tall Confederate obelisk also located inside Oakland Cemetery.

What sets both objects apart from Confederate monuments that sit in front of courthouses, state capitols or on city streets is that they are not “in your face,” but are part of the statuary of the cemetery, said Sheffield Hale, president and CEO of the Atlanta History Center.

Carved from Georgia marble, the lion is modeled after the Lion of Lucerne in Lucerne, Switzerland — an 1821 sculpture memorializing the Swiss guards massacred during the French revolution. The 30-foot-long Swiss sculpture is carved into the face of a low cliff, and is considerably larger than the Oakland version.

Atlanta City Council member Carla Smith, a sponsor of the legislation to remove the lion, led the panel established by Reed and was a major force behind the contextual markers.

While the committee never recommended the removal of the lion, vandals have left the city little choice but to move it to an undisclosed location, Smith said.

“They’ve smashed the face, the nose is completely missing and the cost of trying restore it is becoming too much,” Smith said.

“There’s been this constant vandalism and constant drain on city resources trying to protect and restore it,” said Councilwoman Natalyn Archibong, whose district includes Oakland Cemetery.

Richard Harker, executive director of the Historic Oakland Foundation, said that since October 2019, the marker had been vandalized at least eight times and that the interpretive signage below the statue, including the contextual marker, had been defaced repeatedly, sometimes in broad daylight. City employees have spent 150 hours rehabbing the statue after instances of vandalism.

Harker said six permanent security cameras had recently been installed in the park, including a couple aimed directly at the lion. Extra security guards had been hired in the last several months to deter vandals.

“The city’s history is good, bad, ugly and beautiful, and the city has to wrestle with all those legacies so we can move forward,” Harker said. “This is another example of the city, in a sad, unfortunate way, of doing so.”

The City Council approved a $33,000 contract with Superior Rigging and Erecting Co. to remove the lion statue. The city has not said where it will be located long-term.

The Confederate statue is listed by the Smithsonian as a historically significant piece of funerary art, Hale said, but removing it is a matter of public safety as well as preservation.

Hale also mentioned that the tension associated with the sculpture could lead to violence “adjacent” to the statue.

In the years since the city’s report on Confederate iconography came out, local governments around the state and nation have taken steps to remove monuments that glorify the Confederacy amid widespread protests against racism. The Georgia state law that makes it difficult for local governments to relocate or remove Confederate monuments was also updated in 2019 to include language that allows for “appropriate measures for the preservation, protection and interpretation” of monuments.

The Confederate obelisk in downtown Decatur came down last June. A Confederate monument built in 1993 in Lawrenceville’s downtown square was removed earlier this year.