#melvyn pretty as always

[cursed-elo-images]

FIRST OF ALL:

HUGH CONSUME

SECOND OF ALL:

LOOK AT MELVYN. JUST LOOK AT HIM.

THIRD OF ALL:

RICHARD—

—IS SMILING—

WHY IS IT THAT WHEN THIS MAN SMILES MY QUALITY OF LIFE IMPROVES??? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS YET NO ANSWERS!!!

[the-paper-apricot]

Paul, Porter and "I love you"

The accepted explanation of the writing of the Wings hit 'Silly Love Songs', including that offered several times over the years by Paul McCartney himself, is that it was a riposte to criticism of his more sentimental love songs as light and insignificant.

I was getting slagged off for writing luv songs. You see, I’m looking at love not from the perspective of ‘boring old love’, I’m looking at it like when you get married and have a baby. That’s pretty strong: it’s something deeper.

Paul McCartney, from Club Sandwich N°47/48, Spring 1988 (cited here)

Although I've never seen this discussed anywhere, it's long seemed to me that there's another possible influence on the song. To my knowledge no one has ever asked Paul directly about this, so what follows remains just my headcanon. (If anyone knows something to the contrary, please let me know!)

Cole Porter, another preternaturally talented Gemini lefty.

While writing the songs destined for the musical Mexican Hayride (1944), Cole Porter was presented with a challenge by his close friend Monty Woolley. (Woolley was an American actor who you may remember in the delicious role of the Professor in the Christmassy classic film The Bishop's Wife.) Woolley reasoned that because Porter's songwriting mastery came in part from his unhackneyed, fresh lyrical ideas, he wouldn't be able to write a hit song with the simple, rather too obvious, repeated refrain of "I love you".

Monty Woolley with Cole Porter

It became a $25 wager, and Woolley also stipulated that his friend include reheated stale lines about spring and "birds on the wing". Porter duly wrote 'I Love You', which was the only standout in the show and in time topped the U.S. Hit Parade for several weeks, so he won his bet.

I would quite like to have been sort of a nineteen-twenties writer, 'cause I like that thing, you know. You know, up in top hat and tails and sort of coming on ... so, this kind of number, I like that thing. But, so this is just me doing it, and pretending I'm living in 1925.

Paul McCartney, talking about 'Honey Pie', interview with Radio Luxembourg, 1968

Melvyn Bragg: What's the longest you've ever worked over a song? 'Cause a lot of the lyrics, the more you read them, the more - and then they always read very straightforwardly and seamlessly, but when you read them again and again they're very complicated, and a lot of internal rhyming going on and a lot of extremely clever play. Does that - do you work on them quite hard? Do you go over them again and again? Paul: Well, you know I'm a fan of all that, the old-fashioned writing. You know, sort of Sammy Cahn's era, you know, Cole Porter, and I do like all that, when it comes off! I mean, I hate just silly rhymes, just, you know - but when it really comes off those are great little things in songwriting. So I was always aware of that from people like Cole Porter. So I'd always try and put something like that kinda thing in, sorta little internal rhymes, you were always going for that kinda thing. ... I can't explain it, you know, I've never been able to explain it, but it's like it comes in out of the blue. It sort of comes at you, you know, and - I'm sure the funnel that it's coming through's a lot to do with it, 'cause your little computer in here - my computer's sort of heard Billy Cotton Band Show going back there, you know and Cole Porter there, and this there and it's heard millions of influences through to Chuck Berry ...

from 'Paul McCartney: Songsmith' (The South Bank Show) January 1978

George Eells' book The Life That Late He Led: A Biography of Cole Porter was published in 1967 and remained the definitive life for about a decade. It mentions the 'I Love You' wager (p212), which became one of the better-known song origin anecdotes.

I have no idea if Paul McCartney knew this story. But I can imagine the professional challenge appealing to him, and perhaps especially tempting is the playful pairing of commercial reward with artistic defiance. 'Silly Love Songs', like 'I Love You' before it, was a big hit: Number 2 in the UK chart, and top of the Billboard chart in the States.

Did he dare himself to write a pop chorus that repeated the refrain "I love you", because Porter had done so? I dunno.* For what it's worth, I think the three melodic lines in the chorus of 'Silly Love Songs' exceed Porter's tune in both beauty and memorability.** (Although I do enjoy this sultry version recorded by Julie London.)

(*Just like I don't know if 'Why Don't We Do It In The Road' found any precedent in Porter's celebrated and racy-for-its-day song, 'Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love'.)

(**But I mean, you'd expect me to say that, you know I've made paper dolls of him in his little Wings outfits tbf.)

[cursed-elo-images]

HEY EVERYONE I NEED TO POST ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA INCORRECT QUOTES ON HERE BECAUSE THE WORLD NEEDS THEM!!!

The website I generate these from are none other than the lovely https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator, whose quotes come from user suggestions, Tumblr, Twitter, and bash.org (the sources that aren’t user suggestions were pretty early and they take quotes from user suggestions now just to clarify) and I’ve been having the time of my life making them.

Also, as a heads up I’m only posting SFW ones.

And so I’ll edit this post whenever i generate new ones and copy and paste them into my documents and choose the ones I want to post. I know that with incorrect quotes from any fandom, people like to post multiple posts of one quote or a handful of them wherever they post them from and I’d like to do that, it’s not a bad idea, I just like to collect them all in a large mega post.

UPDATE: this no longer applies to this post. I’m not making it a mega post anymore, because it’s too confusing for me and I’ll be like “okay so if this the original mega post or is this the first reblog or the third reblog or the tenth reblog—“ and it just looks better with multiple posts of a collection of different quotes.

SO WITH THAT BEING SAID—here they are!!!

Melvyn, talking to Mik: Well Mik, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Hugh do that?’ and if he would, I do not do that thing.

Mik: …

Hugh, from the distance: He’s not wrong though!

Melvyn: The first time I ever got upset in front of Hugh, he put his arms around me and it was so awkward that I had to ask him if he was hugging me or reaching for something on the shelf behind me.

Hugh: I was doing both, for your information.

Mik: The first time Hugh hugged me, it was such a disaster we didn’t make eye contact for, like, a week after.

Melvyn: When I was a kid, Hugh told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.

Mik: They are!

Melvyn: FOR REAL?

Mik: No! Why did you fall for it again?

Mik: They made Melvyn cry!

Hugh: Melvyn always cries!

Melvyn: That's not true! *cries*

Richard, setting down a card: Ace of spades.

Jeff, pulling out an Uno card: +4.

Kelly, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you!

Bev, trembling: What are we playing?!

Richard: Are you laughing at that video of Bev and Jeff fighting?

Kelly: No.

Kelly: I'm laughing at the comments.

*The Squad is at Jeff’s house*

Melvyn : Ohhhh we each get our own oven?

Jeff: …N-No…

Jeff, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Melvyn , motioning to the kitchen: Three, I thought!

Richard: I see a-

Jeff, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Melvyn : Oh, well I-

Jeff: Hey, wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Jeff, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Hugh: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Bev: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Jeff: Now I’ve discovered more ovens than I thought, we don’t have to roshambo nothin’!

Jeff: I am someone who owns four ovens…

Jeff, louder and way too happy: I am someone… who owns FOUR OVENS…

Mik, pointing to another appliance: Also, the toaster oven!

Jeff:

Melvyn : Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Jeff:

Jeff, ecstatic: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS.

Bev: Today, Kelly took my phone, and in five minutes, he sent high resolution close-up photos of Richard to the following people: Jeff, Hugh, Mik, the neighbors, the bank, my accountant, San Diego Blood Bank, and Shake Shack's text bot.

Bev: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Kelly: No.

Richard: I did not.

Melvyn : I may have actually forgotten one.

Jeff: Also no.

Bev: Oh good, neither did I.

Hugh: *Exhausted sigh*

Hugh: We’re kind of missing something guys.

Kelly: Cohesion?

Richard: Teamwork?

Bev: A general sense of what we’re doing?

Mik: And Jeff is not here.

Kelly: Oh, and that, yeah.

*The Squad is playing Chess*

Hugh: *easily beats everyone because he knows how to play*

Kelly: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

Bev: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

Mik: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

Jeff: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so.

Melvyn : They named a board game after cheese?

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Richard, Bev, and Melvyn : *spinning a little and talking*

Jeff, Hugh, and Kelly: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Richard: Did you bring Jeff?

Kelly, gesturing to Hugh: No, but I brought the next best thing.

Richard: Hugh? The next best thing would be Bev.

Hugh: I would be offended, but Bev is freakishly strong.

Melvyn: Hugh, I have a question.

Hugh: What is it, Melvyn?

Melvyn: What color is an orange?

Hugh: Melvyn, you bonehead! Its color is the same as its name. Just like a lemon.

Hugh: Do you take constructive criticism?

Melvyn: Not without crying

Hugh, entering the room: *Sees Melvyn and leaves*

Melvyn, watching Hugh leave: There’s my monthly dose of Hugh…

Hugh: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE.

Melvyn: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds.

Hugh: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME—

Melvyn: *sigh* What do you want?

Hugh: Chicken nuggets please.

Hugh: Okay happy campers! If you were a fruit what would you be and why?

Melvyn: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Hugh: ...

Melvyn: ...

Hugh: OKAY HAPPY CAMPERS-

Melvyn: Hugh, how could you possibly have gotten into this much trouble in one day?

Hugh: It... It didn't take me the whole day…

Melvyn, dashing into the room: WHY AREN’T THE DISHES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER?!

Hugh: …What does that even mean?!

Jeff: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese... this happens way more frequently than you think.

Richard: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen.

Jeff: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese?

Bev: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese?

Bev: Jeff, gather the others. We need to have another Hugh-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-him-before-he-hurts-someone convention.

Melvyn: What’s your name?

Jeff, whispering to Bev: Can I tell him my real name?

Bev: No!

Jeff: I’m… Bev.

Bev, whispering to himself: The ONE TIME he gets my name right…

Melvyn: Are pigeons drones?

Hugh: What? No, I'm trying to sleep.

Melvyn: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES!

Hugh: *Crying* Please let me sleep…

Hugh: Do you know the best way to respond to disagreement?

Melvyn: With tears?

Hugh: No.

Melvyn: *tears up*

*The gang when they drop food on the floor*

Jeff : Aw man. *Throws it away*

Bev: Five second rule!

Hugh: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor*

Richard: *Sobs on the floor*

*when a child starts crying in public*

Mik: *tries to make the child laugh*

Kelly: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

Bev: *gives detailed instructions to the parents*

Melvyn: *cries with the child*

Richard: *ignores the child*

Hugh: *is the reason why the child is crying*

Melvyn: While I'm gone, you're in charge Richard.

Richard: Yes!

Melvyn, whispering to Hugh: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want him to feel bad.

Hugh: Obviously.

Richard: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly?

Hugh: Not again!

Richard: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions.

Melvyn: Just wait until you hear about whales.

Richard: What now?

Hugh: I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Richard: Melvyn is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Hugh.

Melvyn: I feel like Hugh is the more responsible one of us two though.

Hugh: We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Melvyn: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

Melvyn: Hey, check out my Spongebob umbrella!

*Melvyn opens their umbrella while indoors*

Richard: Melvyn, that’s bad luck…

Melvyn: Chill out, Richard !

Hugh, kicking down the door: WHO SUMMONED ME?!?!

Melvyn and Richard: *screams*

Richard: Hugh isn’t answering my messages.

Melvyn: Allow me.

Richard: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-

Hugh: *replying to message* Hello.

Melvyn: How did you even get in here?

Hugh: Richard's window! Or, as I like to call it, "Hugh's door"!

Richard: I’m closing the window.

Hugh: If you water water, it grows.

Richard: ...What.

Melvyn: He’s got a point.

Melvyn & Hugh: *Playing video games*

Richard: You guys woke up at 5:30 in the morning just to play games?

Melvyn: *silence*

Hugh: *silence*

Richard, finally figuring it out: ...You two never went to sleep, did you?

Melvyn & Hugh in shame: Yeah…

Melvyn: Richard won’t come out of his room!

Hugh: Just tell them I said something.

Melvyn: Like what?

Hugh: Anything factually incorrect.

Melvyn, shrugging: If you say so.

Richard, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

Hugh: *Talking to Richard* Oh, hi. I didn't see you there. Welcome to my abode. I'm glad you could join me.

Melvyn: But this is my abode.

Hugh: ...

Hugh: Welcome to my abode, I'm so happy to have you, guest.

Melvyn: Why is Hugh crying?

Richard: He saw a leaf on the sidewalk and-

Hugh: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY!

Melvyn: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

Hugh: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH!

Melvyn: NO, NOT THAT!

Richard: Melvyn learned how to fold origami penguins from Hugh the other day. I told him, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day he put them in the fridge.

Richard: Define “dream”.

Hugh: Dream - the first thing people abandon when they learn how the world works.

Melvyn: That’s too dark!

Richard: Melvyn, I’m afraid.

Melvyn: Just stay close to Hugh.

Richard: That's why I’m afraid.

Melvyn: I’m telling you, my team is competent.

Richard: Melvyn learned how to fold origami penguins from Hugh the other day. I told him, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day he put them in the fridge.

Richard: What are you two arguing about this time?

Melvyn: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!

Hugh: Cry me a table, Melvyn.

Melvyn: Ladies, gentlemen and Hugh, I want to show you the greatest thing your eyes have ever beheld!

Richard: A llama?

Melvyn: No.

Richard: A baby llama?

Melvyn: No!

Richard: A baby llama with a little hat on?

Melvyn: NO!

Richard: Melvyn, what are you doing?

Melvyn: Making chocolate pudding.

Richard: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding?

Melvyn: Because I've lost control of my life.

Melvyn: Here's your pudding, Hugh.

Hugh: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.

Richard: Yesterday, I overheard Melvyn saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Hugh replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Melvyn: You ever see something that changes your life and you're just like "huh.."

Richard: I saw you.

Melvyn: Honestly that's so cute and sweet but it kinda makes this awkward because I was gonna show you a picture of Hugh in a turkey costume.

Melvyn: *lifting weights*

Hugh: Wow… He’s so intense!

Richard: I wonder what drives him.

Melvyn, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Richard to Melvyn: First rule of battle, little one... don’t ever let them know where you are.

Hugh, shooting out of frame: WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo!

Richard: 'Course, there’re other schools of thought.

Hugh: *sneaking in through his window*

Richard: *turning in his chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Hugh: I was with Melvyn?

Melvyn: *turning in his chair* Wanna try again?

Melvyn: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing.

Richard: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing.

Hugh: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

Richard, trying to impress Melvyn: I re-initialized the entire command structure, retaining all programmed abilities but deleting the supplementary preference architecture.

Hugh: He turned it off and back on again.

Hugh: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Richard?

Richard: No.

Melvyn: I do!

Hugh: I know, Melvyn.

Melvyn: I’m sad.

Hugh: I know, Melvyn.

Hugh: Go ahead, Melvyn. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry.

Richard: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Melvyn: Last night I found out Hugh is a sleep talker.

Richard: Oh, really?

Melvyn: "The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell." Right. In. My. Ear. At 3am.

Hugh: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet?

Richard: Why?

Hugh: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Melvyn.

Richard: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that.

Hugh: Richard, you have opened my eyes.

[quite-actually-a-nacho]

I’ve seen one of your posts where you pasted snippets of Bev’s book on pictures of ELO members—and this specific post had an image Of Melvyn Gale with the snippet where Bev said “Melvyn threw up” and I have to know—what’s the story behind this?

oh yes that fun little story! I forget some specifics, I still can’t find my book but I’ll remember what I can!

essentially for lunch earlier that day the band ate some kind of greasy spicy chicken recipe at a restaurant abroad (either in Spain or another Spanish-speaking country), they ate a lot of it, and they also drank some large quantities of alcohol. then they had to get back on the bus for a few hour drive I think to a gig (they had somewhere they needed to be), but if I remember right the trip was generally a disaster. people acting up, bus breaking down for ages in the middle of nowhere, struggling through language barriers, everyone was in a fairly dreadful mood.

but Melvyn in particular apparently could not keep down the chicken and alcohol especially in the heat. so Melvyn threw up. and although they cleaned everything best they could, the bus stank for the remainder of the drive, and that pretty much marked the end of an awful day. everyone just sort of sat in exhausted silence after everything went wrong. super fun things to happen!

*and I forgot to mention that I believe the original snippets over the photos were done by moveslikekeithrichards! lots of good silly old ELO/Bev’s book content on their blog. the phrase “Melvyn threw up” became a funny summary of how Melvyn always looks uncomfortable in photos as well as the epitome of his ELO experience.

[celeste-fitzgerald]

Sweet quotes about Kelly Groucutt from his friends

(most of these are from after his death so they're quite bittersweet, but still very sweet <3 )

Bev Bevan:

"He was such a bundle of energy, totally irrepressible. Kelly was the life and soul of the party, the practical joker in the band. He was the type of character who was always joking around and could light up a room whenever he arrived... "I remember being on the road with Kelly back in the 70s. It was a great time to be out there and he kept us entertained. He used to have an endless supply of bad jokes. He was always on the go, couldn’t sit still, and even when he did he would be playing with a Rubik’s cube or something like that. Kelly was a real gentle soul as well – he wouldn’t harm a fly."

Louis Clark:

"I have so many memories, like closing many bars with him in hotels all over the world having solved the world's problems, his silly jokes, which I found funny for their sheer silliness, sitting next to him on planes in the early 80's with the constant clicking of his Rubik's cube. "I'll always remember around the same time period while in L.A. recording Kelly's first solo album, him climbing from room to room over our balconies at least 20 stories up. "I also remember more recently when my watch strap broke and the local repair shop said it would have to be sent to the manufacturer. I gave it to Kelly and he fixed it in three minutes. He was "Mr. Fix It" and the "Gadget Man". "Kelly always made time for everyone, us the band, anyone in trouble and his fans who he genuinely loved talking with."

Mik Kaminski:

"We were like brothers. We would call each other anytime we needed to. He was always there for me. Even though he’s gone, I keep expecting him to phone me up at any minute...Kelly had loads of birds. Whenever I rang him up it was like calling Regent’s Park Zoo!"

Mik Kaminski again, in interview with Martin Kinch:

Martin: "Are there any certain songs that you perform when you, uh, think about him more than others?" Mik: "Um...well, all of them, really, because Kelly had his [unintelligible] little piece he'd do in the middle of a song, he'd...he'd walk over and...you know, he had quite a [laughs] comical edge about him when he was performing and you can always see him coming over and doing his bits even though he's not there, so...they're all pretty much...you know, there's a bit of Kelly in all of them."

Melvyn Gale, in an interview:

KJS: Finally ... what is your #1 favourite ELO song and why? Mel: Got to be Midnight Blue, because it reminds me of Kelly.

Parthenon Huxley, of ELO Part II and The Orchestra:

"In late 1998 I walked into a large, well worn rehearsal room in Birmingham, England for my audition with ELO Part II. I wasn't sure who everyone was, but immediately Kelly Groucutt positioned himself directly in front of me, tilted his head upwards and said, 'You're TOO TALL!' We laughed. Leave it to Kelly to be the icebreaker... "Fans of ELO Part II and now The Orchestra will attest that Kelly was always available after a gig for an autograph, a photo, a cigarette, a drink, whatever was happening at the moment. Hours after a performance the last thing fans heard in the parking lot was usually a tour manager shouting, 'Kelly! The bus is leaving!' He gave the fans every spare minute he had... "Kelly was a tinkerer, a gadgets freak, a student of puns, an expert Country & Western singer, a walking encyclopedia of music history (song title, artist, year released), a loving Dad, a smoker, a drinker, a traveller (China, Cuba, Chile...hmmm...never noticed how much he liked "C" countries), a joke teller, a tireless chatterbug, a generous friend, a lyrics freak, a willing accomplice."

Phil Bates, from ELO Part II and The Orchestra:

"On tour, he was my greatest friend. When I was having health problems, and waking up in the middle of the night, in some far-flung place 5,000 miles from home with some extremely worrying things happening to me, Kelly told me to call him, whatever time of the night, and he would come and help me through my difficulties. That was the kind of friend he was, and the hole he will leave will be impossible to fill."

[iamthepulta]

Notes from South Yorkshire Mining Villages, by Melvyn Jones.

- Mines, or Collieries, have existed in southern England since people noticed coal and ironstone - sandstone with hematite nodules and/or a high percentage of hematite in it. There's an interesting record of a monastic grange, the Kirkstead Abby in Lincolnshire, petitioning an estate owner to mine ironstone on his land in 1161 and they proceeded to smelt iron and blacksmith nails for at least a century. - Mines were initially small-scale pit operations, operating for the local area with a crew of 5-6. The development of canals from 1780-1820 kicked off the boom of industrialization, especially in these small pit mines because coal could now be shipped by canal. This allowed more workers to produce more coal, etc.

- During this time we see people begin to be displaced by the industrialization of the loom. There was a family of weavers, noted via census, as moving south when the father and three sons could no longer find work.

- The development of railways and steam engines made canals more or less defunct from 1820-1850, and this is when mining villages began to kick off, due to increased demand from engines and coking coal for steel. Glassworks and coking factories often sprung up inside the town next to the colliery or along the rail lines. Often these towns were already placed - sometimes they still have Old English names referencing original medieval homeowners the towns sprung up around - but they also sprung from convenient areas next to the railway. English geology played nice by stretching from shallow to deep, West to East. So the coal seam was mined easiest to hardest, West to East. - English coal was most prominent from 1850-1930, nationalized 1947.

- Because most housing from 1750-1850 was new and they needed a lot of it, it was essentially block housing units, initially built by the enterprising Lord until around 1840 when companies built them. They weren't always nice, but they usually had gardens, three-five rooms (including kitchen and living area), and a water closet in the back. I also noticed all of them had a allotment garden on the side of the town. This persists until the last town was mentioned, in the far East, made around 1930. Then the map doesn't label allotment gardens. (Also, notably, these were nice houses for the time. Holy shit, they had running water and space for lodgers and additional family members. Like if you were offered a current-day suburbia mcmansion [that quickly disintegrated] in exchange for labor.)

- After 1840 it was usually the mining company that built the housing units and there was little to no control from the Lord who had originally owned the land. I think this was a transition from the mineral rights being turned over to a lease of the land itself, but I'm not sure.

- The housing was still pretty nice for the times; this seems to be a key way to lure people away from other mine sites to the newest one. Even sites that had been built in 1800 usually had some additions over the years to have running water, upgrades to heating, etc. The houses built in 1900 had running water, baths, and indoor toilets. Of course, this comes with the caveat of "if you strike, we kick you out of your homes" which immediately caused problems, all the way back to 1800. Which brings us to the unions:

- This book paints a picture of motion and that's what really clicked for me when we talk about unions. I always wondered why blackleg miners (English term for strike-breakers; the Americans coined 'scab') could be so callused- because ~stand together~ and all that. But these were all migrants. The comparison that came to mind was if you invited several thousand workers from Mexico to work in the same state and paid them pittance wages and they went on strike - which still happens today. It takes more than self-restraint when a crop ends and you're looking for the next job and someone is actively not working that job when people are still flowing in from Mexico, starving, and will take anything. Comparing how small Yorkshire is, how small each mine is, and how all these people are moving to a new town every twenty years as mine conditions changed, adds poignancy too.

[cursed-elo-images]

Nobody:

ELO on WhatsApp:

Jeff: *literally uses a blue theme* *gets upset quite a lot after he gets trolled by either Hugh or Bev* *Hugh would you please literally stop what you’re doing??? Man… why are you ALWAYS like this…” “OKAY BEV this is the last rickroll I’m going to accept from you ✨🙄💅😐💙🦋🩵🪁🐋🪐🚀🎤🎸🚂” “I’m quite literally trying my absolute BEST to stay calm rn yall” “Aww Richard thank you for wishing me a happy birthday mate! <3 you’re the best!” “Melvyn why do you keep talking” *always sends Melvyn the Joe Jones song “You Talk Too Much”* “guys guys guys I’m going to hang out with Del tomorrow yay!!!” “I love the Beatles so much they’re the best band ever” “ROY ORBISON JUST RELEASED A NEW ALBUM”

Bev: *overuses the word bruh* “bruh Hughie what are you doing rn” “epic bruh moment Sharon” “literally bruh” “hey so here’s a selfie of me at the gym today hope yall like it I tried my best 💕💕💪🥁💪” “bruh Walmart is all out of protein shakes you guys” “bruh Richard I so need to try the food you buy, bro” “guys has anyone seen Mik??? I miss him :(“ *constantly pranks Jeff specifically* “no Jeff I won’t stop sending you rickrolls 🤭🤭🤭” “no offense Hughie but why are you crying?” “oh no not Cleo smh” “BRUH”

Kelly: *very chatty and uses all caps a lot and sends so much stuff* “WELL HELLO THERE YOU WITH THE PRETTY FACE, WELCOME TO THE HUMAN RACE!!!” “Here’s this adorable puppy I found just the other day!” “Here’s Hugh cosplaying Waluigi at the mall!” “Does anybody remember that gif Bev made of Sharon pushing me into the bathtub full of cream cheese!? Please send it to me!!!” “GUYS I BOUGHT A NEW VIDEO GAME!!!”

Richard: *usually reads messages but talks the least on there, does so rarely* “hi” “Happy Birthday Jeff” “Happy Birthday Melvyn” “Happy Valentine’s Day everyone” *doesn’t make a new message until literally next month*

Mik: *is technically on there but like Richard, barely talks* *does talk to Hugh, Bev and Melvyn frequently though* “sorry Bev I’m here what’s up?” *common catchphrase is: “yall are weird ngl”*

Hugh: *the troll* “hahaha who cares about the beatles” *enjoys annoying jeff and bev* “hey check out this cool video I found!! *sends a rickroll*” “i miss Cleo 🥺🥺🥺” *sends random voice messages of him crying and ranting about Cleo at random times of the year* “hey beatle-boy have you seen Mel?” “average Roy Orbison fan moment” “sorry guys I was reading” “Mel you’re the best bro 🫂🤝🎻🐍🛩️” “LOL” *sends cursed messages of him laughing really hard when something chaotic or funny happens, or if anyone gets annoyed*

Melvyn: *literally always active*

“Oh hey guys! How are you?” “Does anyone want to see my model airplane collection???” “Hey has anyone seen Sharon? I want to talk to her about how cork heeled shoes precisely float on water!” “Hey Hugh I’ll get you a new snake for your birthday!” “What does anyone else want for their birthdays? Whatever it is I’ll get it!” “Hey am i the only one active here at this hour?” “Guys? Hello?” “WHERE IS EVERYBODY ???🤳💅🎻🛩️” *sends a bunch of very long voice messages detailing about his day, thoughts, feelings, and dreams about life* “Ohhh Hugh I’m sorry mate, I know what it’s like to give up a pet!”

forgot I had this on my phone lmao

[chiseler]

Stolen Faces

Cinema is an art of faces, almost a religion of faces: on screen they loom above us, vast as a mother’s face must appear to an infant. We can get lost in them. The deepest thrill the movies offer may be the opportunity to gaze at human faces longer and with more unabashed, lover-like intimacy than real life regularly allows. Most often, of course, we gaze at beautiful faces, though cinema has its share of beloved gargoyles, mugs with “character” rather than symmetry. But the uncanny power of faces onscreen also anchors films about disfigurement and facial transformations, about masks and scars and plastic surgery. These stories summon all the fears and taboos, desires and unresolved questions swirling around the human face. Do faces reveal or conceal a person’s true nature? Can changing someone’s face change their soul?

Deformity is a staple of horror films, of course, from classics such as Phantom of the Opera and The Raven (in which the hideously afflicted man played by Boris Karloff muses, “Maybe if a man looks ugly, he does ugly things”) to surgical shockers such as Eyes Without a Face. But plot twists involving faces that are damaged or corrected, masked or changed, turn up with surprising frequency in film noir as well, where they are related to themes of identity theft, amnesia, desperate attempts to shed the past or recover the past. One of the grim proverbs of noir is that you can’t escape yourself. There are no fresh starts, no second chances. But noir also demonstrates the instability of identity, the way character can be corrupted, and stories about facial transformations harbor a nebulous fear that there is in the end no fixed self. If noir is pessimistic about the possibility of change, it is at the same time haunted by fear of change—fear of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger.

The Truth of Masks

Two films about men who literally lose their faces take the full measure of the resulting ostracism and crushing isolation—and what men will do to escape it. Hiroshi Teshigahara’s The Face of Another (Tanin no Kao, 1966) is based on a Kobo Abe novel about a scientist named Okuyama who has been literally defaced by a chemical accident. We never see what he used to look like; he spends half the film swaddled in bandages like Claude Rains in The Invisible Man, ferocious black eyes glinting through slits. Obsessed with people’s reactions to his appearance, he lashes out bitterly, insisting that all his social ties have been severed, including his conjugal ties with his wife. She tries to convince him that it’s all in his head and that her feelings haven’t changed, but her revulsion when he makes an abrupt sexual advance convinces him that she’s lying.

Okuyama believes that a life-like mask will restore his relationship with his wife and his connection to society. He has evidently not seen The Face Behind the Mask (1941), a terrific B noir in which Peter Lorre stars as Johnny Szabo, who is hideously scarred in a fire. This tragedy and the ensuing cruelty of strangers transform him from a sweet, Chaplin-esque immigrant to a bitter criminal mastermind, even after he dons a powder-white mask that gives him a sad, creepy ghost of his former face—more Lorre than Lorre.  The mask is merely a flimsy patch on the horrible visage that spiritually scars Johnny, and though it enables him to marry a sweet and loving (and perhaps near-sighted) woman, it can’t reverse the corrosion of his character.  

The doctor who makes a far more sophisticated mask for Okuyama does so because the project fascinates him as a psychological and philosophical experiment. He speculates about what the world would be like if everyone wore a mask: morality would not exist, he argues, since people would feel no responsibility for the actions of their alternate identities. (His theory seems to be borne out by the consequences of internet anonymity.) Unlike the one Johnny Szabo wears, here the mask bears no resemblance to Okuyama’s original looks, and the doctor believes the new face will change his patient’s personality, turning him into someone else.

When the mask is fitted, it turns out to be the face of Tatsuya Nakadai, one of the most striking and plastic pans in cinema history. With only a little help from a fake mole, dark glasses, and a bizarre fringe of beard, Nakadai succeeds in making his own features look eerily synthetic, as though they don’t belong to him. Sitting in a crowded beer hall on his first masked outing in public, he creates a palpable sense of unease, keeping his features unnaturally still as though unsure of their mobility, touching his skin gingerly to explore its alien surface. As he gradually grows more comfortable and revels in the freedom of his new face, the doctor tells him, “It’s not the beer that’s made you drunk, it’s the mask.”

Abe’s novel contains a scene in which the protagonist goes to an exhibit of Noh masks, highly stylized crystallizations of stock characters and emotions. In Noh, as in other traditional forms of theater that use masks, the actor is present on stage but vanishes into another physical being—men play women, young men play old men, gods, and ghosts. In cinema, actors impersonate other characters using their own faces—usually without even the heavy layer of makeup worn on western stages. Movie actors are pretending to be people they’re not, yet if we judge their performances good it means we believe what we see in their faces. When an actor’s real face plays the part of a mask, like Lorre’s or Nakadai’s, this strange inversion—the real impersonating the artificial—has a uniquely disconcerting effect.

At the heart of this disturbing film lurks a horror that changing the skin can indeed change the soul. Okuyama tries to hold onto his identity, insisting, “I am who I am, I can’t change,” but the doctor insists he is “a new man,” with “no records, no past.” In covering his scar tissue with a smooth, artificial skin he eradicates his own experience, and with it his humanity. The doctor turns out to be right when he predicts that the mask will have a mind of its own. Suddenly endowed with sleek good looks, Okuyama buys flashy suits and sets out to seduce his own wife. When he succeeds easily, he is outraged, only to have her reveal that she knew who he was all along. After she leaves him in disgust he descends into madness and random violence. He has become the opposite of the Invisible Man: a visible shell with nothing inside

Okuyama’s story is interwoven with a subplot about a radiation-scarred girl from Nagasaki, whose social isolation drives her to incest and suicide. Lovely from one side, repellent from the other, she looks very much like the protagonist of A Woman’s  Face. Ingrid Bergman starred in the Swedish original, but Joan Crawford is ideally cast in the 1941 Hollywood remake directed by George Cukor. Half beautiful and half grotesque, half hard-boiled and half vulnerable, Anna Holm spells out what was usually inchoate in Crawford’s paradoxical presence. A childhood fire has left her with a gnarled scar on one side of her face, like a black diseased root growing across her cheek and distorting her eye and mouth. Crawford makes us feel Anna’s agonizing humiliation when people look at her, which spurs her compulsive mannerisms of turning her head aside, lifting her hand to her cheek, or pulling her hair down.

Also perfectly cast is Conrad Veidt as the elegant, sinister Torsten Baring. Veidt went from German Expressionist horror—playing the goth heartthrob Cesar in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and the grotesquely disfigured yet weirdly alluring hero of The Man Who Laughs—to an unexpected late-career run as a sexy leading man in cloak-and-dagger films such as The Spy in Black and Contraband. When Anna turns her head defiantly to reveal her scar, Torsten gazes at her with a gleam of excitement, even of perverse attraction. She is confused and touched by his kindness and gallantry, helplessly trying to hide her sensitivity beneath a tough façade. Her broken-up, uncertain expressions when he gives her flowers or kisses her hand count as some of the most delicate acting Crawford ever did. Anna assumes that Torsten, the penniless scion of a rich family, must want her to do some dirty work, and she turns out to be right, but he also genuinely appreciates the proud, bitter, lonely woman who faces down her miserable lot through sheer strength of will.

People are horrible to Anna, nastily mocking her wounded vanity and her attempts to look nice. “The world was against me,” she says, “All right, I’d be against it.” She has found the perfect outlet, blackmailing pretty women who commit adultery. In one of the film’s best scenes, the spoiled and kittenish wife she is threatening retaliates by shining a lamp in Anna’s face and laughing at her. Anna leaps at the woman and starts hitting her over and over, forehand and backhand, in an ecstasy of hatred. This savagely satisfying moment is derailed by the film’s first grossly contrived plot twist, as the encounter is interrupted by the woman’s husband, who happens to be a plastic surgeon specializing in correcting facial scars. He offers to operate on Anna, and once the bandages are removed, in a scene orchestrated for maximum suspense, an absurdly flawless face is revealed.

The doctor (Melvyn Douglas) calls her both his Galatea and his Frankenstein: he views her as his creation, but isn’t sure if she’s an ideal woman or an unholy monster, “a beautiful face with no heart.” Her dilemma is ultimately which man to please, whose approval to seek: the doctor who believes her character should be corrected now that her face is, or Torsten, who wants her to kill the young nephew who stands between him and the family estate. This overwrought turn is never plausible; it is always obvious that Anna is no child murderer. What is believable is her erotic thrall to Torsten, the first man who has ever shown an interest in her. Crawford is at her most unguarded in these moments of trembling desire; Cukor remarked on how “the nearer the camera, the more tender and yielding she became.” He speculated that the camera was her true lover.

Anna undergoes months of pain and uncertainty for the chance of being beautiful for Torsten, and there is a marvelous shot of her gazing at herself in a mirror as she prepares to surprise him with her new face, brimming with hard proud joy. But he winds up lamenting the surgery that has turned her into “a mere woman, soft and warm and full of love,” he sneers. “I thought you were something different—strong, exciting, not dull, mediocre, safe.” In this same speech, Torsten reveals himself as a cartoonish fascist megalomaniac, which fits in with the film’s slide into silly, flimsily scripted melodrama, but sadly obscures the radical spark of what he’s saying. Anna’s character is shaped by the way she looks, or rather by the way she is looked at by men; the disappointingly conventional ending sides with the man who equates flawless beauty with moral goodness, and against the one man who was able to see something fine—a “hard, shining brightness,” in a woman’s damaged and imperfect face.

A Stolen Face (1952) follows a similar premise, much less effectively, and reaches the opposite conclusion. Paul Henreid plays a plastic surgeon who operates on female criminals with disfiguring scars, convinced that once they look normal they will become contented law-abiding citizens. He gets carried away, however, sculpting one patient into a dead ringer for his lost love (Lizabeth Scott plays both the original and the copy) and marrying her. His attempt to play Pygmalion backfires, since the vulgar, mean-spirited and untrustworthy ex-con is unchanged by her new appearance: she is indeed “a beautiful face without a heart.” That is a succinct definition of the femme fatale, a type Lizabeth Scott often played and one that embodies a fascination with the deceptiveness of feminine beauty. In The Big Heat (1953), it is only when Debbie (Glora Grahame) has her pretty face rearranged by a pot of scalding coffee that she abandons her cynical self-interest to become an avenging angel, fearlessly punishing the corrupt who hide their greed behind a genteel façade. She has nothing left to lose; pulling a gun from her mink coat and plugging the woman she recognizes as her evil “sister,” the disfigured Debbie asserts her freedom: “I never felt better in my life.”

Blessings in Disguise

Sometimes, people are only too happy to lose their faces. Dr. Richard Talbot (Kent Smith), the protagonist of the superb, underappreciated drama Nora Prentiss (1947), sees the bright side when his face is horribly burned in a car crash. He has already faked his own death, sending another man’s corpse over a cliff in a burning car. In a neat bit of poetic irony, by crashing his own car he has completed the process of destroying his identity, and no longer needs to fear he’ll be recognized. Losing his face is a blessing in disguise—or rather, a blessing of disguise. But the disfigurement is also a visual representation of the corruption of his character: his face changes to reflect his downward metamorphosis with almost Dorian Gray-like precision.

Car crashes are a kind of refrain in the film. The doctor’s routine existence veers off course when a taxi knocks down a nightclub singer, Nora Prentiss (Anne Sheridan), across the street from his San Francisco office. Talk about a happy accident: the nice guy trapped in an ice-cold marriage to a rigid, nagging martinet suddenly has a gorgeous, good-humored young woman stretched out on his examining table. Nora may sing for a living, but her real vocation is dishing out wisecracks (her first words on coming to are, “There must be an easier way to get a taxi.”) When the doctor mentions a paper he’s writing on “ailments of the heart,” the canary, her eyelids dropping under the weight of knowingness, quips, “A paper? I could write a book.”

It’s hard to imagine a more sympathetic pair of adulterers, but the doctor is so daunted by the prospect of asking his wife for a divorce that it seems simpler to use the convenient death of a patient in his office to stage his own demise and flee to New York with Nora. It’s soon clear, though, that some part of him did die in San Francisco. Cooped up in a New York hotel room, terrified of going out lest someone spot him, the formerly gentle man becomes an irascible, rude, nervous wreck. When the faithful and incredibly patient Nora goes back to singing for Phil Dinardo (Robert Alda), the handsome nightclub owner who loves her, Talbot becomes hysterically jealous. Unshaven and hollow-eyed, he slaps Nora and almost kills Dinardo before fleeing the police and heading into that fiery crash. He becomes, as the film’s evocative French title has it, L’Amant sans Visage, “the lover without a face.”

When his bandages are removed, he is unrecognizable, wizened and scarred, his face a creased and calloused mask. His own wife doesn’t know him, and when Nora visits him in prison his damaged face, shot through a tight wire mesh, looks like something decaying, dissolving. He’s in prison because, in an even neater bit of irony, he has been charged with his own murder. He decides to take the rap, recognizing the justice of the mistake: he did kill Richard Talbot.

This same ironic plot twist appears in Strange Impersonation (1946), albeit less convincingly. This deliriously far-fetched tale, directed at a breakneck pace by Anthony Mann, stars Brenda Marshall as Nora Goodrich, a pretty scientist whose glasses signal that she is both brainy and emotionally myopic. She is harshly punished for caring more about work than marriage: her female lab assistant, who wants to steal Nora’s fiancé, tampers with an experiment so that it explodes, burning Nora’s face to a crisp. Embittered, she retreats from the world, and when another woman, who is trying to blackmail her over a car accident, falls from the window and is mistakenly identified as Nora, she seizes the opportunity to disappear, have plastic surgery that miraculously eliminates her scars, and return posing as the blackmailer, to seek revenge. She goes to work for her former fiancé, who strangely fails to recognize her voice or her striking resemblance to his lost love.

The plot plays out as, and turns out to be, a fever dream, but this last credibility stretcher is too common to dismiss as merely the flaw of one potboiler. Plots involving impersonation and identity theft rely not only on unrealistic visions of what plastic surgery can achieve, but on the assumption that people are deeply unobservant and tone-deaf in recognizing loved ones. A film that underlines this blindness with droll irony is The Scar (a.k.a. Hollow Triumph and The Man Who Murdered Himself, 1948), a convoluted but hugely entertaining little B noir in which Paul Henreid plays dual roles as a crook on the run and a psychologist who happens to look just like him. John Muller, pursued by hit men sent by a casino owner he robbed, stumbles across his doppelganger and decides to kill him and take his place. All he needs to do is give himself a facial scar to match the doctor’s. Only as he is dumping the body does he notice that he has put the scar on the wrong cheek—the consequence of an accidentally reversed photograph. But the irony quickly doubles back: Muller decides to brazen it out, and in fact no one notices that the doctor’s scar has apparently moved from one side of his face to the other—not even his lover. (Joan Bennett glides through this awkward part in a world-weary trance, giving a dry-martini reading to the script’s most famous lines: “It’s a bitter little world, full of sad surprises.”) The assumption that people pay little attention to the way others look or sound seems directly at odds with the power that faces and voices wield on film, and the intimate specificity with which we experience them. But noir stories often turn on how easily people are deceived, and how poorly they really know one another—or even themselves.

In The Long Wait (1954), perhaps the most extreme case of confused identity, a man with amnesia searches for a woman who has had plastic surgery. Not only does he not know what she looks like now, he can’t even remember what she used to look like. Since the movie is based on a Mickey Spillane story, he proceeds methodically by grabbing every woman he sees, in hopes that something will jog his memory. The film is fun in its pulpy, trashy way, provided you enjoy watching Anthony Quinn kiss women as though his aim were to throttle the life out of them. Quinn plays a man badly injured in a car wreck that erases both his memory and his fingerprints. This is lucky when he wanders into his old town and discovers he is wanted for a bank robbery—without fingerprints, they can’t arrest him. Figuring he must be innocent, he goes in search of the girlfriend who may or may not have grabbed the money and gone under the knife. It’s an intriguing premise, but the ultimate revelation of the right woman feels arbitrary, and the implications of all this confusion of identities are left resolutely unexamined. Nonetheless, there is something in the film’s searing, inarticulate desperation that glints like a shattered mirror.

Under the Knife

The promise of plastic surgery is a new and better self, the erasure of years and the traces of life. Taken to extremes, it is the opportunity to become a different person. Probably the best known plastic surgery noir is Dark Passage (1947), in which Humphrey Bogart plays Vincent Parry, who visits a back alley doctor after escaping from San Quentin. Parry was framed for killing his wife, so the face plastered across newspapers with the label of murderer has become a false face that betrays him. A friendly cabby who spots him recommends a surgeon who is he promises is “no quack.” Houseley Stevenson’s gleeful turn as the back-alley doctor is unforgettable, as he sharpens a straight razor while philosophizing about how all human life is rooted in fear of pain and death. He can’t resist scaring Parry, chortling over what he could do to a patient he didn’t like: make him look like a bulldog, or a monkey. But he reassures Parry that he’ll make him look good: “I’ll make you look as if you’ve lived.”

During the operation, Parry’s drugged consciousness becomes a kaleidoscope of faces, all the people who have threatened or helped him swirling around. His face is being re-shaped, as his life has already been shaped by others: the bad woman who framed him and the good woman who rescues and protects him, the small-time crook who menaces him and the kind cabby who helps him. Faceless for much of the movie, mute for part of it (he spends a long time in constraining bandages), Vincent Parry is among the most passive and cipher-like of noir protagonists. When the bandages finally come off after surgery, he looks like Humphrey Bogart, and the idea that this famously beat-up, lived-in face could be the creation of plastic surgery is perhaps the film’s biggest joke. But Vincent Parry remains an oddly blank, undefined character, and he seems unchanged by his new face and name. In a sense the doctor is right: he only looks as though he’s lived.

The fullest cinematic exploration of the problems inherent in trying to make a new life through plastic surgery is Seconds (1966), John Frankenheimer’s flesh-creeping sci-fi drama about a mysterious company that offers clients second lives. For a substantial fee, they will fake your death, make you over completely—including new fingerprints, teeth, and vocal cords—and create an entirely new identity for you. There is never a moment in the movie when this seems like a good idea. The Saul Bass credits, in which human features are stretched and distorted in extreme close-up, instills a horror of plasticity, and disorienting camera-work creates an immediate feeling of unease and dislocation, a physical discomfort at being in the wrong place.

Arthur, a businessman from Scarsdale, is the personification of disappointed middle age, afflicted by profound anomie that goes beyond a dull routine and a tired marriage. When the Company finishes its work—the process is shown in gruesome detail, to the extent that Frankenheimer’s cameraman fainted while shooting a real rhinoplasty—the formerly nondescript and greying Arthur looks like Rock Hudson, and has a new life as a playboy painter in Malibu. He’s told that he is free, “alone in the world, absolved of all responsibility.” He has “what every middle-aged man in America wants: freedom.”

At first, however, his life proves as empty and meaningless in this new setting as it was in the old; even when the Frankenstein scars have healed, he remains nervous and joyless as before. After he meets and falls for a beautiful blonde neighbor, who introduces him to a very 1960s California lifestyle, he begins to revel in youth and sensual freedom. Yet something is still not right; at a cocktail party he gets drunk and starts talking about his former existence—a taboo. He discovers that his lover, indeed almost everyone he knows, is an employee of the company or a fellow “reborn,” hired to create a fake life for him, and to keep him under surveillance. His “freedom” is a construct, tightly controlled.

Arthur rebels, making a forbidden trip to visit his wife, who of course does not recognize him. Talking to her about her supposedly deceased husband, for the first time he begins to understand himself: the depth of his alienation and confusion, the fact that he never really knew what he wanted, and so wanted the things he had been told he should want. Seconds is a scathing attack on the American ideal of a successful life, a portrait of how corporations sell fantasies of youth, beauty, happiness, love; buying into these commercial dreams, no one is really free to know what they want, or even who they are. Will Geer, as the folksy, sinister founder of the Company, talks wistfully about how he simply wanted to make people happy.

There is a deep sadness in the scenes where Arthur revisits his old home and confronts the failure of his attempt at rebirth—beautifully embodied by Rock Hudson in a performance suffused with the melancholy of a man who has spent his life hiding his real identity behind a mask. Yet Arthur still imagines that if he can have another new start, a third face and identity, he will get it right. Instead, he learns the macabre secret of how the Company goes about swapping out people’s identities. Seconds contrasts the surgical precision with which faces, bodies, and the trappings of life can be remade, and the impossibility of determining or predicting how or if the inner self will be changed. For that there are no charts or diagrams, and no knife that can cut deep enough.

by Imogen Sara Smith

[jasonfry]

More classic movies everyone’s seen but me!

They Live By Night (1948)

Bowie and Keechie are doomed young lovers in Nicholas Ray’s debut as a director. A lot of the tropes will be familiar to film noir fans -- you know Bowie and Keechie will never achieve the normal lives they want, and the movie’s ending feels as fixed and inevitable as Shakespearean tragedy, with avenues of escape closing off one by one. But a few elements set it apart. For one thing, there’s the Depression setting, which offers shabby cabins and dusty plains instead of L.A. clubs and streetscapes, and makes “economic anxiety” a real thing -- Bowie and Keechie’s wedding in particular is a tragicomic masterpiece, with the crooked justice of the peace subtracting elements based on the couple’s budget. The movies also draws power from the chemistry between Farley Granger and Cathy O’Donnell, which feels natural in a very stylized film, sometimes to the point of feeling intimate bordering on uncomfortable. (Howard Da Silva is terrific in a supporting role as the terrifying hood Chicamaw.)

Ray was given free rein as director, and They Live By Night has an experimental air that would prove highly influential, from the tricky opening helicopter shot to an inside-the-car sequence whose legacy you can see in Gun Crazy. Then there’s its rather odd unveiling: The movie was shelved for two years after it was shot, but circulated through private showings in Hollywood and became a favorite, with Granger tapped by Alfred Hitchcock for Rope and Humphrey Bogart offering Ray a lifeline as a director. They Live By Night isn’t a great entry point for film noir newbies, but will be interesting for fans of the genre.

Robert Altman remade this movie as Thieves Like Us, returning to the title of the novel that Ray adapted; that version is also on my list. 

Under the Volcano (1984)

John Huston enjoyed tackling supposedly unfilmable projects late in life, following his adaptation of Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood with this take on a 1947 novel by Malcolm Lowery. Albert Finney is wonderful as a drunken, self-destructive British diplomat, and there’s an undeniable pull to the movie -- I saw it a couple of weeks ago and can’t quite shake its suffocating mood of mild delirium. But it’s so, so bleak -- before you try it, make sure you’re up for two hours of unease and dread.

Silverado (1985)

I saw Silverado as a teenager, but came back to it recently because as a kid I’d barely seen any westerns and so had no idea what the movie was celebrating or looking to revisit. Seen through more experienced eyes, Silverado is most interesting because it isn’t revisionist at all -- with the exception of a couple of modern tweaks to racial attitudes, it could have been made in the same period as the movies writer/director Lawrence Kasdan is saluting.

Anyway, Kevin Kline and Linda Hunt are wonderful leads, as is Brian Dennehy as the sheriff who’s put his conscience aside, and virtually everybody you remember from mid-80s movies shows up at one point or another. It’s a lot of fun, at least until the movie runs out of steam in the second half and turns into a series of paint-by-numbers gunfights. The final running battle particularly annoyed me: Kasdan has had ample time to show us the layout of the town of Silverado, which would let us think alongside the heroes as they stalk and are stalked through its handful of streets, but his ending is random gags and shootouts, with no sense of place. Stuff just happens until we’re out of stuff.

Compare that with, say, Helm’s Deep in The Two Towers. Peter Jackson takes his time establishing everything from the geography of the fortress to the plan to defend it, and as a result we always know where we are during the battle and what each new development means for the heroes. That kind of planning might have made Silverado a modern classic instead of just a fun diversion. 

My Brilliant Career (1979)

Judy Davis stars (opposite an impossibly young Sam Neill) as Sybylla Melvyn, a young Australian woman determined to resist not just her family’s efforts to marry her off but also the inclinations of her own heart. Sybylla is a wonderful character, a luminous, frizzy-haired bull in a china shop of convention, and she’s riveting in every scene. (Neill’s job is to look alternately hapless and patient, which he does well enough -- a fate that’s perfectly fair given the generations upon generations of actresses who have been stuck with the same role.) Extra points for Gillian Armstrong’s direction, which consistently delivers establishing shots you want to linger on without being too showy about them, and for sticking with an ending that, Sybylla-style, bucks movie expectations.

(This is an adaptation of Miles Franklin’s 1901 autobiographical novel, which I now want to read. Franklin also wrote a book called All That Swagger, which is such a great title that I’m happy just thinking about it.)

Red River (1948)

A friend recommended this movie -- the first collaboration between Howard Hawks and John Wayne -- after reading my take on Rio Bravo. And I’m glad he did: Wayne is terrific as Tom Dunson, a hard-driving rancher whose cattle drive to Missouri becomes an obsession that leads him into madness, and he’s evenly matched with Montgomery Clift, who’s his son in all but name. 

Dunson begins as the movie’s hero and gradually morphs into its villain, with Wayne letting us see his doubts and regrets and also his inability to acknowledge them and so steer himself back to reality. Clift, making his debut as Matt Garth, is solid in a more conventional role (he looks eerily like Tom Cruise), and Walter Brennan happily chews scenery as Wayne’s sidekick and nagging conscience.

And there’s a lot of scenery to chew -- it’s wonderful to watch the herd in motion, particularly in a shot from over Brennan’s shoulder as the cattle cross a river -- and Hawks brings a palpable sense of dread to the nighttime scenes as things start to go wrong.

I would have liked Red River more if I hadn’t already seen Rio Bravo, though. Brennan plays the exact same role in that movie as he does here, Clift’s character is very similar to Ricky Nelson’s, and Hawks even nicked a melody from Red River to reuse 11 years later. (Hawks was a serial recycler -- he essentially remade Rio Bravo twice.)

A more fundamental problem is that Red River falls apart when Hawks jams Tess Millay into the story. We’re introduced to Tess, played by Joanne Dru, when Clift intervenes to save a wagon train besieged by Apaches, and her nattering at Clift during a gunfight is so annoying that I was hoping an arrow would find its mark and silence her. (She is hit by an arrow, but it only makes her talk more.)

Tess then falls for Clift, who seems mostly befuddled by her interest but blandly acquiesces. This is funny for a number of reasons: Beyond some really dopey staging, Clift’s love interest is pretty clearly a cowboy played by John Ireland and given the unlikely name of Cherry Valance. Their relationship is a bit of gay subtext that wouldn’t need much of a nudge to become text. Tess goes on to annoy Wayne in an endless scene that exists to forklift in a klutzy parallel with the movie’s beginning, and then shows up at the end to derail the climax in an eye-rolling fashion that leaves everyone involved looking mildly embarrassed. (Dru does the best she can; none of this is her fault.) 

I was left wondering what on earth had happened, so I read up and discovered that -- a la Suspicion -- the ending was changed, destroying a logical and satisfying outcome penned by Borden Chase. Tess is a hand-wave to bring about that different ending, a bad idea executed so poorly that it wrecks the movie. Give me a few weeks and I’ll happily remember all the things Red River does right, from those soaring vistas to Wayne’s seething march through Abilene. But I’ll also remember how the last reel took an ax to everything that had been built with such care.

[geoffreymoorere]

Palm Springs Neighborhoods Close to Downtown

  Many fantastic Palm Springs neighborhoods are located within walking distance of the city’s major shopping, dining and entertainment areas. With year-round gorgeous weather that makes you want to spend time outdoors, being able to step outside your door and walk to your favorite spots is a big plus.  So, if you’re searching the Palm Springs real estate market for a home with a high “walkability rating,” this is a brief guide to some of the best locations.  The oldest neighborhoods in Palm Springs are also the closest to Palm Canyon Drive (North, South and East). Which figures. Palm Canyon Drive has always been the main drag, the street where all the original businesses and hotels were located, and the focus of downtown Palm Springs. And it was originally Highway 111 which steered traffic through downtown and then to the east, to connect with other Coachella Valley cities. Besides being the core of downtown Palm Springs, Palm Canyon Drive is the main street for the Uptown Design District, just north of downtown, and the primary boulevard for trendy, restored resorts, quirky motels and restaurants along East Palm Canyon Drive. The Movie Colony The oldest part of the Movie Colony is south of the Desert Regional Medical Center (site of the old El Mirador Hotel with its iconic bell tower) and north of Alejo Road. The neighborhood’s west border is North Indian Canyon Drive, where you can now find several chic hotels and restaurants. That’s one block from North Palm Canyon Drive and the city’s Uptown Design District, with a lineup of popular restaurants and bars, plus a selection of shops featuring vintage and contemporary home furnishings, art and hip duds. Close to Alejo, there’s Francis Stevens Park, the Palm Canyon Theater, the Desert Art Center, and (soon) the new Andaz Hotel. All this is within a few blocks of most of the Movie Colony.  A bit further east in the Movie Colony, you can walk to one of the largest city parks, Ruth Hardy Park, named for the owner of the famed Ingleside Inn and the first city councilwoman in Palm Springs. On any given day, Movie Colony residents walk and play with their dogs and kids, have picnics, take in a tennis or basketball game and stroll through the Wellness Park opposite the Medical Center.  Old Las Palmas Across North Palm Canyon Drive from the Movie Colony, sits another classic Palm Springs neighborhood, Old Las Palmas. North of Alejo Road and east of Via Monte Vista you’ll find meandering streets with large lots, high ficus hedges, big palms and old homes, some in the multimillion dollar range. Like the Movie Colony, Old Las Palmas attracted scores of Hollywood celebrities from the 30s to the 60s.  At Alejo and North Palm Canyon, sits the neighborhood hangout, the Corridor, which includes Koffi (a popular, local alternative to Starbucks), several restaurants and shops surrounding a charming, park-like courtyard.  Not to be confused with Vista Las Palmas, which is to the west, up against the mountains and newer, Old Las Palmas, like the Movie Colony, is just blocks away from Uptown, with all the attractions mentioned earlier. And just walking around through the neighborhood is very pleasant; there’s very little traffic, no sidewalks, and pedestrians and their dogs can pretty much stroll aimlessly down the middle of the street. If you like that easy-going pace, but with quick access to nightlife, Old Las Palmas is for you. The Historic Tennis Club Named for the original Tennis Club, which is nestled up against the mountains and anchored by Spencer’s Restaurant. Pearl McManus, a name you’ll hear a lot in Palm Spring history, started the club in the 30s. The neighborhood grew up around it. It’s a snap to walk to South Palm Canyon Drive (that’s anything south of Tahquitz Canyon Way) and to the Palm Springs Art Museum, the new downtown park, and the retail and hotel developments around Palm Canyon and Tahquitz Canyon Way.  Village Fest, the Thursday evening street fair on South Palm Canyon, is such an easy walk you can brag about it to your friends, who have to hunt for parking on those busy evenings. It’s also walking distance to restaurants in the many boutique hotels in the neighborhood, such as Melvyn’s at the Ingleside Inn,Azucar at La Serena Villas and Four Saints at The Rowan. The neighborhood is a terrific place to see old and new Palm Springs, sometimes in the same place.  At the southwest corner of the neighborhood, at Ramon Road, the homes butt up against the mountains and the North Lykken Trail, which connects to several other mountain trails. Across Ramon from the Tennis Club, newer neighborhoods have sprouted, most recently homes dubbed Skye, million-dollar plus showcases built along midcentury modern lines. Tahquitz River Estates Tucked in the area south of Tahquitz River and the curve where South Palm Canyon transitions to East Palm Canyon lies another of Palm Springs’ original neighborhoods, Tahquitz River Estates. A collection of unique homes, some dating from the beginning of Palm Springs, this neighborhood is best seen on foot. Nearby South Palm Canyon features some of Palm Springs favorite dining spots, El Mirasol, Miro’s and Mr. Lyons. Local shops line this strip of South Palm Canyon, as well as a shopping center featuring Stein Mart.  Dog owners love this neighborhood, because there is always something new to discover on your walks: old homes, lovely mature landscaping, newly remodeled midcentury modern homes, and a long trail that follows Tahquitz River (on both sides) from South Palm Canyon all the way to Sunrise Way. Walk west on Mesquite Avenue toward the mountains, and you’ll find the north trailhead for the South Lykken Trail, which leads up the hills for breathtaking views of the entire Coachella Valley, and the entrance to Tahquitz Canyon, a must-see for any resident or visitor to Palm Springs. Twin Palms Follow the big curve in the road on the south end of town along East Palm Canyon Drive, and you’ll find a row of what looks like cheap motels. That is what they used to be.  There’s still a Motel 6 among this strip of what has become a series of millennial tourist favorites, hip motel-to-hotel conversions, such as the Ace Hotel, the V, L’Horizon and Sparrows Lodge. (During Coachella, the average age of the neighborhood drops by a couple of decades.)  The Twin Palms neighborhood is just south of this strip of East Palm Canyon at Camino Real. One of the original Alexander Construction Company neighborhoods, it’s small, full of fine examples of midcentury modern homes and within walking distance to some of the finest dining in town. Mr. Lyons, King’s Highway (at the Ace), SO.PA (at L’Horizon), Del Rey (at Villa Royale) are a few examples.  Another Koffi (there are three in Palm Springs) is next to the Ace and always hopping with locals and tourists, and the Smoketree Shopping Center, with a Ralph’s and several good restaurants, is close by.  Besides the nearby attractions, the neighborhood is just fun to walk around in. There aren’t many places where you’ll find a street named Aquanetta. If you’re looking into Palm Springs condos, the area around Twin Palms has many communities, some quite recent, and the large Biltmore complex lies just across East Palm Canyon Drive from Koffi. Deepwell This delightful, mixed midcentury Palm Springs neighborhood of unique homes is situated across East Palm Canyon Drive from Twin Palms, and a little bit further east (south of Mesquite Avenue and west of Sunrise Way). Originally from the 40s, and home to several celebrities, Deepwell homes are distinctive, mostly midcentury modern style, dating from the 50s to the 70s. This is a very popular neighborhood, not only because of its stylish architecture and gorgeous landscaping, but also its central location. Like Old Las Palmas, it’s lightly trafficked, since few streets go through, and residents stroll around and walk their dogs in the middle of the lanes, chatting with neighbors. As it’s close to East Palm Canyon Drive, it is also walking distance to the same attractions as Twin Palms. But it is closer to the Smoketree Shopping Center and the ever-popular Purple Room, a restaurant and bar with live entertainment that’s been around since the Frank Sinatra era. Live in Deepwell, and you could have breakfast, lunch and dinner every day at the ever popular Elmer’s on East Palm Canyon Drive. Palm Springs has great weather for walking and hiking, so buyers looking for Palm Springs real estate often ask for a location that has the attractions Palm Springs is known for within walking distance. When you live close to Palm Canyon Drive, you have many interesting and fun destinations at your doorstep. Once you’re off the main drag, however, the neighborhoods are so quiet, you wouldn’t know you’re mere blocks away from all the activity. 

[thomaspaine]

My friend recently made a list of history and comedy podcasts she’d like to recommend, so I’m going to do the same:

In Our Time - This is the big one. A long running show made for BBC Radio 4 since 1998, where Melvyn Bragg and four academics sit down for 45 minutes and talk about a topic in history, philosophy, literature, science or religion. The idea couldn’t be simpler but it’s a fascinating resource, not to mention that by now they’ve done an episode on pretty much everything. Also, as a bonus, it’s wonderful for getting to sleep. (This is a compliment, trust me)

American History Tellers - Obviously one for if you like American history. This is a very well put together podcast that revisits several important episodes of American history from the various perspectives of people who were there. I particularly enjoyed the recent series about the development of America’s two-party system, from the early republic through to the present. 

The History of England - If you want a dry, but also very humorous, detailed and well researched history of England from the Anglo Saxons through to the present, delivered by a clever man in his shed, this is the podcast for you. I believe he’s got to the Tudors by now but I’m still way back in the High Middle Ages. (This one is also good for getting to sleep.)

Revolutions - Another well researched programme put together by a single person. This show gives you a detailed history of various important historical revolutions, including the English Civil War, the American Revolution and the French Revolution, and several others which I am nowhere near getting to yet. 

The American Revolution (Audio) - This is a 25 part lecture series about the American Revolution given by Joanne Freeman (who, if you haven’t heard of her, is lovely and very easy to listen to). It’s one of the best histories of the American Revolution I’ve read or listened to and an excellent place to start with that period of history. 

The Unbelievable Truth - Comedy now. A four person panel game hosted by David Mitchell, where players have to give a short lecture on a subject which is complete nonsense, except for five hidden truths which they must attempt to smuggle into their lectures somewhere, and other players must try to spot. Personally, David Mitchell’s rants give me life, and I also like obscure facts, so if you like that sort of thing you should listen to it - although, it is only on the BBC Radio 4 website, the BBC Radio iPlayer app, and the BBC Sounds app. It’s still available outside the UK but make sure to get in there quickly because the episodes disappear a month after broadcast. 

The News Quiz - Despite the name, not really a quiz, but a hilarious satirical roundup of the week’s news (mainly UK), hosted by Miles Jupp. Always very funny and often deserves a second listen. The extended version is called the News Quiz Extra, and it is often listed under “Friday Night Comedy” in some podcast apps.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #399

Top Ten Skeletons

It’s Halloween! Wooooooo! Spooky noises! Pretend cobwebs! Too many sweets! Bwahahahaha!

Anyway, now that’s out of the way, on with the list. Dead simple this weekend. Basically, coz it’s Halloween next week, I wanted to do something vaguely ghoulish. And what could be more ghoulish than a skeleton? It’s like a skinnier version of you without all the juices or wobbly bits.

Are skeletons scary? I guess if you saw one ambulating its way towards you then yes, yes they are. But they don’t quite hit the gory heights of zombies, ghosts, or demons when it comes to putting the willies up people (also, technically, none of them even have willies). You can cover them with blood, pus, and bits of rotten flesh, but the more you do then the blurrier the line becomes between zombie and skeleton. It’s for this reason that I’ve excluded the likes of the Cryptkeeper, or Iron Maiden’s Eddie; for me, they’re both too raggedy of skin to be classed as a straight-up skellington.

I take this stuff very seriously.

So, what we have here is a list of ten bone-bags, minus any soppy organs (okay, technically, a few of them appear to have eyes). They run the gamut from sublime to ridiculous, from scary to, well, children’s preschool picture books. They are my favourite set of stiffs, out and about without their wet bits.

Enjoy – if you dare!

Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993): I mean, come on; if we’re talking about skeletons at Halloween we have to talk about the Pumpkin King. He’s literally royalty. Delightfully skinny and bony, he’s a tortured, poetic soul who loves to bring joy and also make you wee yourself a bit. Has a ghost dog. Can take off his head to recite Shakespearean quotation. And marks a disturbing trend of skeletons with faces that look, well, like a normal head with a skull painted on.

Big Skeleton, Little Skeleton, and Dog Skeleton (Funnybones, Janet & Allan Ahlberg, 1980): cheating a bit by including three characters – and already we’re onto our second dead dog mention – but these two dudes and their hound (are they father and son? Brothers? Lovers?) know how to party. They live (or, well – anyway…) to scare, and if they can’t find anyone down a dark, dark street or some dark, dark stairs, they’ll just straight up scare each other. No messing.

Manuel Calavera (Grim Fandango, 1998): our second dubious skull-face, but at least Manny has the excuse that he’s all Día de Muertos-ed up. A wonderfully multifaceted character – part hero, part patsy, sometime Grim Reaper – in a delightfully art deco vision of the afterlife, he’s a joy to inhabit and spend some time with.

Skeleton (SuperTed, 1982): I’m not sure if Skeleton was a fixture in the original SuperTed books, but regardless, he just couldn’t be the same without Melvyn Hayes’ voice work (apologies to the original Welsh actor). Partly it’s the delightfully bonkers premise that appeals – for some reason this teddy bear has, for his villains, a literal cowboy, a fat explorer, and, well, the campest skeleton in all of fiction – but, regardless, Skeleton (for that is he) is a delight, from his shiny round head to his bright pink slippers.

The Children of the Hydra’s Teeth (Jason and the Argonauts, 1963): long before dinosaurs broke from their paddocks, spaceships blew up the White House, or Marvel decided to cast middle-aged men as twenty-year-olds, the most impressive special effect was Ray Harryhausen’s sublime, wonderful, joyous depiction of an army of skeletons rising from the ground to fight real-life human actors. A simply stunning feat of stop-motion, the skeletons imbued with exquisite characterisation, and the choreography just spot-on. Really quite creepy when you’re a kid, too.

Murray the Invincible Demonic Skull (The Curse of Money Island, 1997): our second LucasArts adventure game character, and another one that I guess is technically a cheat. Because Murray is literally just a skull. Does that count as a skeleton? Well it’s certainly a bit of a skeleton, so I’m allowing it. Because Murray is very funny: one part vengeful demonic undead pirate, one part grumpy doorstop. You can pick him up and carry him about! He talks to you! He’s so cool.

Archie the Skeleton (Scotch commercials, 1980s): This is the way it’s going to be, with Scotch’s lifetime guarantee… he’s a well-to-do skeleton with a collar and tie (and slippers again, if I remember rightly) who just wants to tell you about how long Scotch VHS tapes will last. A staple of ‘80s adverts, with a nice design and voice, and it was always good fun to watch stop-motion animation during an ad break. Re-record not fade away, re-record not fade away…

T-800 (The Terminator, 1984): whilst we all obviously think of the Terminator as Arnold Schwarzenegger, I’m raising a glass here to what’s on the inside. The moment when that mechanical endoskeleton emerges from the burning truck, striding through the fire, is simply terrifying, revealing for the first time the inhuman monstrosity that pursues our heroes. It’s vaguely human-shaped in its orientation, but also unquestionably mechanical, with servos and pistons and its glowing red eyes. All capped off, creepily enough, with human teeth. It’s a movie monster, and despite being made of metal, it still counts as a skeleton, so there.

Héctor Rivera (Coco, 2017): one of those characters who starts out like a scoundrel but reveals a heart of gold, Héctor is a great Pixar creation, lovingly brought to vocal life by Gael García Bernal, which is ironic coz he’s dead. Comic relief, guide to a strange new world, best friend-slash-big brother to main character Miguel, Héctor reveals tragic hidden depths as his backstory is uncovered, becoming a hero and inspiring one of the biggest tear-jerking moments in Pixar history (which, let’s face it, is really saying something).

Bones (Quake III Arena, 1999): sometimes in this list I’ve picked characters who generate a real emotional connection, like Manny or Héctor. Sometimes I’ve picked ones who cast visceral, terrifying imagery, like the Terminator or the Hydra’s Teeth. But sometimes you just want to look at a skeleton running round with a bloody big rocket launcher, leaping through the air and shooting dudes in the face. Bones was always a great character to see in Quake III because, well, he’s just a skeleton. Nowt fancy about him. I don’t remember his backstory, such as it was. I don’t remember if there was any tactical advantage to playing as him, if his hit box was smaller or anything. He’s just, well, a skeleton. Running around. Shooting people. And sometimes that’s all you want.

So. That’s it. Oh yeah – no Skeletor. That should be obvious; he’s not a skeleton. He’s got a skull face, but the rest of his body is totally ripped (and blue, natch). He’s just some dude who is alive but who’s got a skull for a face. I mean, yeah, sure, that’s pretty badass, but he’s most clearly not a skeleton.

Also: Death. I had Death on the list for a long time, but really the fact that he’s more of a metaphysical concept than a character dissuaded me (I’ve not read enough Discworld to specifically call out that iteration, for instance). But, for what it’s worth, as simple imagery goes, I do love a skeletal Grim Reaper, especially if he’s allowed some kind of characterisation that runs counter to his appearance.

Anyway, happy Halloween! Cue the music! “This is Halloween, this is Halloween…”

[cursed-elo-images]

INCORRECT ELO QUOTES PART 4

This version contains three quotes featuring Mr. Blue Sky and Mr. Night because I have no idea what I’m doing with my life anymore!!!

p.s.: I should make it clear that these incorrect quote posts are not going to contain an equal amount of quotes as I cannot count that many of them as it’s too time consuming, but I do try to have a good amount of them in a post and that each post has roughly a similar amount of them.

*Melvyn sends more than 5 messages in a row*

Jeff: I ain’t reading all that.

Jeff: I’m happy for you tho.

Jeff: Or sorry that happened.

Jeff: So Mel, how did your first time cooking dinner go?

Melvyn: Pretty good if I do say so myself.

Jeff: Oo! Okay, what are we having?

Melvyn: Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato.

Jeff: A whole potato?

Melvyn: Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches!

Jeff: These just look like big slabs of black.

Melvyn: Because that's what they are!

Melvyn: And then for dessert, we have chocolate.

Jeff: These are just chocolate chips?

Melvyn: They sure are!

Melvyn: And then for drinks, we have toast!

Melvyn: *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetit!

Jeff: Bev...

Bev: Oh no, 'Bev' in B flat.

Bev: You're disappointed.

Bev: Jeff, what are you doing?

Jeff: *shaking a cat shaped piggy bank* I’m just trying to figure out how much change I have inside.

Bev: You could always take it out and count it.

Jeff: Where’s the fun in that?

Bev: If there are no questions, we’ll move on to the next chapter.

Jeff: I have a question.

Bev: Certainly, Jeff. What is it?

Jeff: What’s the point of human existence?

Bev: I meant any questions about the subject at hand.

Jeff: Oh.

Jeff: Frankly, I’d like to have the issue resolved before I expend any more energy on this.

Hugh: Uptown Funk would've made it into the Shrek Soundtrack.

Bev: That's the truest statement I've ever heard.

Jeff, on the phone: I better go…kay, call me later… byeeee!

Bev: Friend of Yours?

Jeff: Nope, wrong number.

Bev: ???

Bev: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Jeff periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’

Bev: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Jeff: Hugh, I need some advice.

Hugh: You need advice from ME?

Jeff: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

Bev: Two wrongs don’t make a right.

Hugh: *sighs* That’s true…

Hugh: But two negatives make a positive!!!

Jeff: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly.

Bev: Why not?

Jeff: Because I don't know what they mean.

Bev: I made tea.

Jeff: I don't want tea.

Bev: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Jeff: Then why did you tell me?

Bev: It's a conversation starter.

Jeff: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Bev: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Jeff: Hugh, no.

Hugh: Hugh, yes.

Mr. Blue Sky, Hugh & Jeff: *screaming*

Mr. Night: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Jeff?!

Mr. Blue Sky: Wait, why are you asking Jeff that when Hugh and I are also here?

Mr. Night: Because Jeff wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Mr. Blue Sky: Shh, here comes Mr Night!

Jeff: Quick, Hugh, start talking about boring nerd stuff!

Hugh: You know, nerd culture is mainstream now, so when you use the word “nerd” derogatorily, it means you’re the one that’s out of the zeitgeist.

Jeff: Yes, that’s perfect. Just like that.

Hugh: Where is Mr. Night?

Jeff: I'll do you one better, who is Mr. Night??

Mr. Blue Sky: Here's a better question, why is Mr. Night?

Bev: So you're looking for information on this thing, huh? Well, I feel like it must be from far away.

Richard: What makes you say that?

Bev: If it's something even I don't know about, then I'm sure nobody else must have a clue. So it's gotta be from some faraway place. Impeccable reasoning, isn't it?

Richard: Bev... You don't have a clue about this thing, do you?

Bev: *screams in anger*

Richard: What's that?

Bev: Chocolate.

Richard: What's chocolate?

Bev: Candy. Do they not have candy where you're from?

Richard: Yeah. Grapes, nuts.

Bev: No wonder you're so bitter.

Bev: Richard is not a morning person. Or a night person. There’s really only about seven minutes a day you are fun to be around.

Richard : The best part is you never know when I’m coming.

Richard: Well Bev, I have to say, I'm really disappointed.

Bev: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

Richard, to Bev: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it’s not going to be me.

Bev: Are you busy?

Richard: Yes.

Bev: Cool, listen to this...

Bev: Just so everyone knows, don't ever try to climb a tree at night carrying a strobe light, owls DON'T like it.

Richard: ...what happened?

Bev: I made a VERY bad mistake.

Bev: *walks to cabinet, removes oreo box, takes half a sleeve, throws empty box out* Hi!

Richard: Hey- what are you doing-?

Bev, shoving an oreo into his mouth: I am saving space :D

Bev: Oh, hey, I didn’t see you come in! You should have come by and said hello!

Richard: Oh! Yeah, I uh...

Richard: Didn’t want to bother you.

Richard: Or talk to or listen to or be around you.

Bev: Man, it smells like wrongdog out here.

Richard:

Richard: Bev, are you alright?

Bev: *sobs*

Richard: Can we talk? One 10 to another?

Bev: I’m an 11, but continue.

Richard: Where did you get that tomato soup?

Bev: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Richard, answering the phone: Hello?

Bev: It’s Bev.

Richard: What did he do this time?

Bev: No, it’s me, Bev. It’s actually me.

Richard: What did you do this time?

Richard: You believe me?

Bev: Richard, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Bev: Any tips on how to make someone like me?

Richard: Try to make them laugh all the time.

Bev: Oh, wow! You actually help me for once, and it's even good advice!

Richard: Yeah, the more they laugh, the more time they spend with their eyes closed, so it'd be easier.

Bev: I literally cannot believe I let you talk me into this.

Richard: I literally said “I have an idea,” and you just went along with it without question.

Bev: Who's in charge here?

Richard, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

Richard: Whatever happened to the concept of less is more?

Bev: But if less is more, then just think of how much more 'more' will be!

Bev: Come to think of it… You’ve always been nice to me.

Bev: I mean, you listen to all my problems-

Richard: No, Bev I just simply stand here while you talk, there’s a big difference.

Bev: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Richard: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Bev: You don’t have to wear…

Richard: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Bev: This is getting embarrassing.

Richard: Getting? We’re already there!

Bev: So uh, for this party and everything, do you, uh...

Richard, sighing: You don't know how to dress for this, do you?

Bev, panicked: WHAT IS CLOTHES???

Bev: I taught my dog, Pongo, a new trick. *throws ball* Fetch!

Pongo: *just stands there*

Richard: He didn’t do it.

Bev: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

Bev: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE!

Bev: RICHARD IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW!

Bev: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Richard: Wow, it sure smells like wrong dog in here!

Bev: Oh buddy...

Richard, already sobbing: ASK.

Richard: Hi, I'm Bev's emergency contact.

Counter Woman: You're here to pick him up?

Richard: I'm here to remove myself as his emergency contact.

Richard: Can I have some?

Bev, mouth full of cheesecake: It's really spicy, you wouldn't like it.

Richard, to Bev: Well, one of us has to be wrong and it’s not going to be me.

Richard: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are.

Bev: Okay?

Richard: …

Richard: …

Richard: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so—

Bev: Let's all agree that going up the stairs on all fours is actually the best experience on earth.

Richard: Conversely, going down the stairs on all fours is actually the most terrifying experience on earth.

Hugh: I will beat all of you in Rock, Paper, Scissors. You go first.

Richard: Rock.

Hugh: Paper.

Hugh: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Richard: Where did you get that?

Hugh: My pocket.

Richard: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Hugh: Skills.

Hugh: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY)

Richard: What's that?

Hugh: Remorse code.

Richard: I'm even angrier now.

Hugh: Why are we friends?

Richard: Poor decisions on your part.

Hugh, acting tough: You guys don't want to mess with me.

Richard: Yeah, Hugh will straight up cry in public. Don't try him.

Hugh: Exactly, I will straight up-

Hugh:

Hugh, tearing up: Richard, why would you say that?!

Richard: Hey, what’s the name of the guy who lives down the hall?

Hugh: His cats' names are Walter and Rose.

Richard: That's not what I asked.

Hugh: That is all the information I have.

Hugh: Go big or go home!

Richard: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home.

Hugh: I'm going big!

Hugh: Are you busy?

Richard: No.

Hugh: Want to do something?

Richard: Why would you try to ruin this for me?

Hugh: The Ocean is a soup.

Richard:

Richard: Do elaborate.

Hugh: What are needed for something to be a soup?

Richard: Erm... Water, salt, some form of vegetation, and personally I prefer some meat in mine.

Hugh: *Tilts head*

Richard: The Ocean is a Soup.

Hugh: The Ocean is a Soup.

Hugh: *walking around disappointed after visiting an aquarium*

Richard: Hugh, what did you think a tiger shark was?

Hugh: So, I've been thinking Richard-

Richard: That's dangerous.

Hugh, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Richard.

Richard, not looking up from his coffee: Good morning, problem child.

Hugh: I regret nothing!!!

Richard: I regret everything!!!

Hugh: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks!

Richard: Why would I do that?

Hugh: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

Richard: I called you like ten times! Why didn’t you pick up?

Hugh: *remembers dancing to the ringtone*

Hugh: I didn’t hear it.

Richard, throwing a pokeball at Hugh: Hugh, I choose you!

Hugh, not looking up from their book and catching it: You need an Ultra ball to catch this Legendary Pokémon.

Hugh: Advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls Gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd.

Richard: Yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? You can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue.

Hugh: Blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

Hugh: And if you have any suggestions, please put them in the suggestion box.

Richard: That’s a trash can.

Richard: Just say when.

Melvyn: When.

Richard: I-

Richard: Now or later?

Melvyn: Oh.

Melvyn: *is visibly upset*

Richard: Melvyn, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

Melvyn: Hey.

Richard: Hey?

Melvyn: I can't sleep. :/

Richard: I can. Goodnight.

Richard: Melvyn, say aluminum again. It's the entire source of my serotonin during these trying times.

Melvyn: *sigh* Only for you, buddy. Alyoouminnieeum.

Richard: We need a plan to beat them.

Melvyn: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food.

Richard:

Melvyn: Judge me all you want, I get results.

Melvyn: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life!

*Later*

Richard, to Melvyn: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Richard: *trying to get five seconds of sleep*

Melvyn, poking Richard’s arm: Richard Richard. Richard. Richard.

Richard: WHAT?

Melvyn: …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Melvyn: Everything’s fine, Richard.

Richard: Melvyn, I know your relationship with the english language is strictly casual, but you- I- *deep inhale* ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU WHAT’S NOT FINE.

Melvyn: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird?

Richard: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

Melvyn: You might not know this, Richard, but I am a flawed person.

Richard: I do know that.

Richard: State your name, rank, and intention.

Melvyn: Melvyn, Melvyn, fun.

Richard: *Turns on the kitchen light*

Melvyn: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Richard: It’s four in the morning.

Melvyn: Turn the light back off.

Richard: Am I right, Jeff?

Jeff: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

Richard: I ran into Jeff in the kitchen at 1 AM last night and when I asked him what he was doing, he just shrugged, said “these are my roaming hours,” and wandered off, strumming vaguely on his guitar.

Jeff: Don’t be sad!

Richard: Why not?

Jeff:

Jeff: I don’t have a good answer.

Richard: What’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?

Jeff: “Stalagmite” has an “m” in it.

Richard: Everyone knows that Santa is an invention designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.

Jeff: The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?

[jadorebrowsandlashes]

Microblading Melbourne Is the New Fashion Trend

Microblading has become one of the most wanted fashions in 2021. Celebrities like Jessica Simpson, Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton are spotted wearing this trendy style in print and photos. Microblading has become the latest craze when it comes to short dresses for women. The movement was started by the likes of Julia Roberts and Tweetie Smith in the early nineties. The craze gained further popularity with the release of Julia Roberts'" Julia Roberts Look" in 2021. Now microblading is considered a staple in any fashion trend for both young and old alike.

Women can opt for either microblading on the upper brows or below them. Some girls even combine both the looks for a dual appeal. Micro blading on the upper brows gives a perfect pout and creates a longer appearance of the eye-brow color. It is the perfect way to hide those extra belly buttons and give that great cheekbones without having to sacrifice length.

Microblading on the eyebrows works as a great eye catching style. A pair of long beautiful brows and a pretty bow can add an instant lift to any girl's face. The natural curves of the eyebrows add a nice appeal to girls who want to look more feminine.

Girls who want to wear this must have accessory are those who have not been successful with their efforts at achieving a long smooth and shiny complexion. They have been trying different products but to no avail. Wearing anything that gets in your way is really not acceptable. This means anything made of artificial colorings, powders and other unnatural elements should be avoided. The only thing that should be used are organic and healthy items that enhance the overall appearance of the face.

Microblading Melbourne takes the guess work out of the whole fashion process. Women no longer have to wonder if they will end up looking "too gothic" for their liking. Now there is only one way to find out and it is by trying on the new styles. You do not have to be afraid of failing in front of people since there are so many new and improved Micro blading products. Now you do not need to hide your acne-riddled face behind thick make-up.

As the name suggests, this style comes in tiny dots that blend in perfectly with your brows. You can wear this with confidence as people will not be able to figure out what is different between your mouth and your nose. The design was perfected by Melvyn DE Villiers and his team of artists. They took inspiration from the natural shape of the brows to create a long-lasting effect. The results were amazing. The celebrities who tried this product before were very impressed and were encouraged to try it on for themselves.

It is said that the biggest attraction of this fashion is the fact that it does not require much effort to maintain. You can just get up and go, since there is no maintenance required. Just a simple dusting of the head piece is enough to make you look like you are always smiling. It has also been proved to lengthen the appearance of the neck and the cheeks.

Microblading Melbourne has made it easy for girls to enhance their facial features without spending too much. This can easily be achieved at home and can be worn at any time. You do not have to go anywhere else to look beautiful. It does not matter whether you are at the mall or at home. It is the safest way to enhance your beauty and at the same time, hide those ugly moles.

[krisychenz-blog]

A visit to O&M

“An idea that does’t sell isn’t considered as a creative idea.” I am so, so intrigued by advertising and how amazing it can be after visiting O&M. I have learnt a lot of things from Melvyn’s talk and the works that they did were so captivating! I love the advertisement on Coca Cola, and how they “brought a white Christmas” to Singapore. It was terrifying how they had to stay up just to communicate with people from another country and it is even more terrifying how they had only 3 months to complete this project. Advertising is a tedious industry to work in, a lot of late nights working, brainstorming and even times where everything does not seem to be working out. However, I am pretty sure all designers would feel the same way. Nothing comes easy in life, and I’m sure after they have produced their works, they will be really proud of it. After all, the reward always comes after a hard work, right? Melvyn also gave us a few advices on delivering a pitch. Firstly, rehearse and rehearse countless of times, secondly, think about what questions would the clients ask and lastly, wear black. This advice has helped me, because I am pretty bad at presentations and talking in front of a big crowd but with much preparation and practice, things may turn out better than what you expect.

O&M has a very comfortable environment where everybody is so friendly and easy to communicate with. I love the space and how the office is structured, and also how everyone is so easy-going. Before this trip, I have heard about O&M too, but I have always thought that they were a serious bunch and that the office would be a stressful environment because of how good the company is. However, after the visit, I was wrong. It makes me want to intern there and learn more about advertising!

[pedalfuzz]

Hopscotch 2018: Pedal Fuzz Picks

The Hopscotch Music Festival is almost here! From September 6-8, downtown Raleigh, NC, will be electric with nearly-non-stop music. The Pedal Fuzz team scoured the schedule of over 120 bands for some of the acts we can't wait to see.

Our picks come from Dustin K. Britt, Melvyn Brown, Jon Foster, Eddie Garcia, and Tom Sowders. 

  H.C. McEntire - Thursday, 5:50pm (City Plaza)

I'm not going to lie or flatter myself: when I initially saw the Hopscotch lineup for 2018, I didn't recognize the name H.C. McEntire. I'd kind of slept on Un Deux Trois and Mount Moriah, even though when I'd hear them in passing they'd be added to my ever-expanding Mental List Of Things That I Definitely Need To Sit Down And Give A Serious Listen To Sometime Soon. But when I realized that H.C. McEntire was also Heather McEntire, from erstwhile mid-2000s Durham band Bellafea, I perked up pretty quickly: I loved Bellafea every time I saw them to the extent that I've considered peeling one of their old stickers off of a friend's bumper and keeping it for myself (sorry, Adam). Heather/H.C.'s new stuff is soulful and self-searching, and country-tinged in a way that avoids cynical, syrupy pastiche in favor of the authentic and sincere. I've now had a few serious listens through my headphones, but I can't wait to hear this stuff live. -  Melvyn Brown

 Real Estate - Thursday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I got into a fun fight with a friend a few weeks ago about whether or not "New Jersey sux LOL" is a lazy and unoriginal take (correct answer: it is!), and along with Walt Whitman and The Wrens, the band Real Estate was one of my main arguments on the Garden State's behalf. "It's Real" from 2011's Days is the cut that immediately made me a fan: the melodic interplay between the guitars, the rhythmic counterpoints and switchbacks from the bass and the drums, and the keyboard swirls all come together to produce a sound that's dreamy yet grounded, effervescent yet substantial, focused yet effortless. Martin Courtney's vocals wash cooly above it all, like waves over the sand on some idyllic Jersey Shore afternoon. The overall impression is clean, direct, and mildly euphoric, something like the mirror twin of a hangover-induced panic attack. -  Melvyn Brown

 The Flaming Lips - Thursday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

I turned my attention to The Flaming Lips for the first time after finding out that Blake Schwarzenbach of Jawbreaker loved the song “The Gash,” off of The Soft Bulletin. I checked that song out and loved it and put it on a VERY important volume of my personal mix cd series (I believe it was Stinger Vol. 13). Anyway, it became a favorite: so big and dreamy, like a sky full of javelins. Since then, The Flaming Lips have lavishly expanded indie rock into a colossal dreamscape full of giant eyeballs and lasers and feather boas, and I have still never seen them live. That’s bout to change, y’all - I’m eager to see what these fearless freaks do at Hopscotch. - Tom Sowders

 Deaf Wish - Thursday, 11:30pm (Slim’s)

I do ‘rock bands’ less and less. Whether it’s my age, the ‘been there done that’ sameness I so often encounter, or my compulsion  to explore ‘other’ sounds, I can’t say for sure. Probably all three. SO that’s why I find it goddamn significant that when I pressed play on the Deaf Wish song “FFS” (from a press release no less!) I listened to it three times in a row and sent it to a handful of friends. It’s got that Stooges snarl, the dissonance of Sonic Youth at their more aggressive early moments, and I bet it's going to smoke live. And every member of this Australian band takes turns at vocal duties, how cool is that? - Eddie Garcia

Thundercat – Friday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I first went to Japan in July 2000. It was a life-defining trip. In 2017, in connection with the college I teach for, I went again. The morning I woke up in Tokyo, I opened my window, and boiled some water for instant coffee. It was early. I looked out over the street. People were just starting to move around, starting to head to their jobs as the sun began to rise. The twelfth song on Thundercat’s album Drunk is “Tokyo.” Looking at the people from my tiny hotel room and thinking about the references in the song, both the song and the experience of being there again took on a new emotional depth. - Jon Foster

Grizzly Bear -  Friday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

The quartet’s records emit a throng of atmospheric noises coming from some unidentified dimension. Airtight vocal harmonies, instrumental experimentation, and psychedelic soundscapes are easy enough to capture in the studio, but can Ed Droste et al. deliver a sonically precise package live with adequate spontaneity and animation? I intend to find out. - Dustin K.  Britt

  Yamantaka // Sonic Titan - Friday, 10:00pm (Fletcher)

I never knew I wanted to hear a mix of shred / shoegaze / prog / pop but buddy was I wrong. And honestly, that’s not really doing justice to the melting pot of musical styles this band tackles. This experimental art & music collective swirls Buddhism with sci-fi while subverting the expectations of their Asian Canadian heritage. Their latest album is described as “the soundtrack for an unreleased Haudenosaunee- and Buddhist-themed Anime” From what I understand their live show involves much makeup and costumes and theatrical twists. I’m in. - Eddie Garcia

Shopping - Friday, 12:30am (Wicked Witch)

My wife introduced me to Shopping a couple years ago. We don’t always agree on what constitutes good music. That’s largely because I’m kind of a sad bastard who enjoys listening to the dreary music of other sad bastards, so that my own floating sadness can become inhabitable, and I can enter, sit down on a milkcrate, stay in there, stay safe and headphoned and probably wine drunk and blazed to bits. My wife prefers fun, cool music that ISN’T just an onanistic playground for narcissism masquerading as sensitivity. Anyway, it’s nice when we can land on a band that makes both our brains sparkle, and Shopping is such a band. Their music is like strutting with pointed toes on down a neon rainbow while LSD cartoons go dancing by in a great swirl toward the speaker at 174 bpm. I feel a physical need to get my groove on to their surfy, angular, rock ‘n’ roll dance music. - Tom Sowders

Moses Sumney -  Saturday, 6:40pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

An expert a cappella arranger, Sumney’s androgynous voice seeps from the record player like a cloud of blue incense that gradually fills every room and penetrates your pores. On stage, his breath pushes gently against the spiritual waters of the amphitheater, growing exponentially into a wave that soars far above the heads of the crowd and crashes against every surrounding building. I plan to submerge myself along with the rest of downtown Raleigh, willing victims of the Sumney tsunami. - Dustin K.  Britt  

Nile Rodgers and Chic - Saturday, 8:00pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

Even when I was too young to understand the songwriter/producer/session musician nexus or to have any concept of a trademark sound, I knew that I loved "Le Freak" (Chic), "Let's Dance" (David Bowie), and "We Are Family" (Sister Sledge) because they all had some essential, incredible thing in common. Time passed; I listened to more music, read more magazines and gatefolds and liner notes (and frankly, watched a heroic amount of VH1), and I eventually pieced together that the previously ineffable common link between these songs and approximately a million others was Nile Rodgers. Seriously, you could get pretty lost in the weeds trying to chase down every recording he's had a hand in–I just found out, for example, that he produced and played rhythm guitar on my favorite B-52s track, "Topaz”.  Like the telltale trumpet trills of a Capitol-era Sinatra record or the twelve-string twang of The Byrds, Rodgers leaves his indelible but never overbearing signature on everything he touches so that even if you can't quite put your finger on it, you're glad that he already has. - Melvyn Brown

MC50 – Saturday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

There’s no reason for this to happen.  The last time the MC5 were together, Richard Nixon was still in office. Wayne Kramer is the only original member playing, which should give music fans some reservations about why this is happening. There’s too many high profiled reunion tours that last too long and barely have any connection with the original music. Why would I want to see this band? The answer is easy, Kim Thayil (Soundgarden) and Brendan Canty (Fugazi). If those guys are in your “cover band” then they’re worth seeing. - Jon Foster  

Palberta - Saturday, 10:30pm (Slim’s)

The problem with having too many music fans on your social media page is that you’re inundated with new stuff. There’s always something to check out. Most of the time I feel that listening to new music is homework: I have to listen to everything, or I won’t pass some god-awful hipster test. Add friend suggestions and posts from music blogs, and you’re never really on top of stuff. I “try” new things constantly, clicking on a few seconds of a new song three or four times a day. Somehow Palberta appeared in my Facebook newsfeed like it would for any “hip” 37 year old. I loved them immediately. They were trashy, noisy, and complicated all at the same time. They’re the perfect antidote for well-orchestrated soullessness. I imagine two things might happen when I see them: either they will play a transcendent show, or everything will fall apart as soon as they hit the stage. I don’t know which I prefer. - Jon Foster

Yonatan Gat - Saturday, 10:30pm (Pour House)

The first time I saw Yonatan Gat, he was playing as a trio on the floor of Snug Harbor in Charlotte. Setup in a circle, the band had lamps with colored bulbs surrounding them. Gat would switch them off and on to indicate a change was coming in the (to my ears) largely improvised songs they were playing. Gat (who the Village Voice once named best guitarist in NYC) is a dexterous, dynamic player who eschews effects, save for a wah-wah pedal leading into a reverb soaked amp. And the band is a Hendrix-Experience-but-in-the-2010s ball of psych freakout, holding it down while creeping into catchy chaos. On the latest album Universalists, radical tape-splicing techniques were used in assembling the record; I’m very eager to hear how that fractured methodology takes shape live. - Eddie Garcia

Mind Over Mirrors - Saturday, 11pm (Fletcher)

Last year’s Undying Color was one of my favorite albums of 2017. The drone of Jaime Fennelly’s harmonium was elevated by propulsive rhythms, searing synths, and cascading mysterious vocals. The blend was intoxicating. This year’s Bellowing Sun I can only describe as a Steve Reich dance party. They describe it as, “a sonic inquiry into celestial cycles and the illuminating nature of darkness.” So see, you win either way really. My No. 1 pick. - Eddie Garcia

Sarah Shook & The Disarmers -  Saturday, 11:00pm (Lincoln Theatre)

Once a beloved pourer of libations at Chapel Hill’s (not closing) The Cave, triangle folks haven’t seen much of our hometown hero lately, and for a damn good reason: our queer country crooner is ruling the world on a major tour. Shook and company stomped through Charlotte in June to open for Willie Nelson, and now the Triangle kids are getting our turn. - Dustin K.  Britt

Grouper - Saturday, 12:00am (Fletcher)

I think I’ve established that ONE kind of music I like to listen to is sad, sad music. I think this predilection emerged sometime around the release of Use Your Illusion II by Guns N' Roses. “Civil War,” “November Rain,” me swaying in my dark bedroom with a bowl cut, you get the idea. Well, I’m not ten anymore, so I need SADDER. I can’t wait to stand before the unfurling sparkle of the sequin weighted blanket that is Grouper. I just want to feel it in my sad bastard body. I need a hit, man, and Grouper’s got the sad stuff. - Tom Sowders

Dustin K. Britt is a Durham-based performing arts critic and award-winning theatre artist. He is the managing editor of Chatham Life & Style and provides content for IndyWeek and Carolina Parent. In your spare time, you can stalk him on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  

Melvyn Brown is a musician (Toothsome, Broads, NONCANON, Ladies Auxiliary) and writer from Greensboro, NC who is also passionate about the Four Ts: taking photographs, Thai food, technology, and thrift stores. His appreciation of Scotch whisky is not necessarily related to Steely Dan. You can follow him on Twitter, Instagram, or at generalclearinghouse.com

JON FOSTER IS A MAIL-ARTIST, TEACHER, AND PASSIONATE DEFENDER OF MATH ROCK. 

EDDIE GARCIA PLAYS GUITAR AND ALL THE PEDALS AS 1970S FILM STOCK. YOU CAN ALSO HEAR HIM REPORTING ON NPR AFFILIATE 88.5 WFDD IN WINSTON-SALEM, NC. IN THE WEE HOURS HE RUNS PEDAL FUZZ, WHICH IS A PROUD RECIPIENT OF A GRANT FROM THE ARTS ENTERPRISE LAB / KENAN INSTITUTE FOR THE ARTS.

Tom Sowders pirouettes angrily through the streets of downtown Raleigh. Like really aggressively, really windmilling his arms around. His hobbies are not using his PhD and fronting the band Toothsome.