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vintagegeekculture · 3 months ago

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I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

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This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

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One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.

#meco #disco #star wars #star trek #70s

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sunshine-is-a-gaslight · 4 months ago

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Watching people who don't get allegories for addiction try to understand allegories for addiction is kind of funny but also infuriating because half this website doesn't actually understand his songs

WILLIAM TAPEWORM FEAR

6up 5oh - hunt

skeleton appreciation - flesh

front street - slaughter + corruption???

aikido! - lonely + web

white knuckle - web

a little bit mine - desolation + lonely

thermodynamic - corruption

red moon - dark

lysergide daydream - spiral

the first step - web

jimmy - end + vast bc ocean?????

chemical - spiral + desolation

everything is a lot - end

destroy to enjoy - extinction

self - stranger

2012 - extinction

cotard’s solution - spiral + end + stranger

five names - spiral + stranger + buried

hand me my shovel - buried

dr sunshine - dark

ish - end

#not trying to fight i just need you and others to consider the fact will is recovering and alludes to that very heavily in his music #i agree with a lot of these points tho #will wood stuff #possible disk horse #“im the only one who understands him” aah behavior once again from yours trutly (me)

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naffeclipse · 5 months ago

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Forget-me-not

Reader x Sun and Moon

Commission Info

Thank you for @robinette-green for the lovely request! I adored writing this and making the boys so sweet to the reader! The reader is a clockwork animatronic who's trapped in an abandoned circus, and Sun and Moon step foot onto the forgotten ground and find someone in need of their help.

———

You watch another golden glow creep into oblivion upon the abandoned carnival and its sad, lonely inhabitants. The sun withdraws soundlessly like a stranger passing by. The Freak Show sign slumps, depressed. The once golden and galloping horses in the carousel have rusted into cruel, dark hues and no longer stamp or throw their wild manes back while children ride their once beautiful, gleaming saddles. The big tent—it hasn’t been big in years. It lies in sore tatters, wet from yesterday’s rainstorm with poles sticking up high and stringing along broken bulbs of once bright, yellow lights illuminating the darkness, promising fun to the humans who stepped onto the fairgrounds.

You hate the darkness. You hate it more than being bolted down in place and left to host a game of ring toss no one has played in years. Your right arm is still extended in invitation over the green and brown bottles. The carnival owner couldn’t even allow you both of your arms, pinning your stance into place with bolts and leaving only your left hand to occasionally wave and flutter to catch the attendee’s eyes.

After all the trouble he went to steal you away from your creator, you thought he would at least have taken you with him when the bright, colorful lights and happy, bouncing music came to a halt.

The soft words of your creator ring distantly, like a voice calling out through fog. You are—were his most beautiful creation. He whispered the words to you while he painted your lips red and bid you to take a look in the mirror.

You agreed. You were so, so pretty.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t know what you look like anymore. You don’t want to look upon how rusted your clockwork inner workings have become. Your once pale and milky porcelain skin might be gray and slushy as the dirt along the pathways guests took, and that is not something you wish to know. There’s no doubt your red lips and silky red hair have been forsaken to the elements. You fear you are ruined.

You are now worthy of abandonment.

In the darkness, you truly are forgotten. A hitch within your clockwork chassis catches and grinds before continuing, but the scraping pain remains.

Your attention is drawn back to the front entrance, a good distance away from you. Half crumbled with support beats cutting over the access in an ‘X’ shape, like a warning to not trespass this decrepit lot, shadows slink over the splintered and rotted wood. Long, lanky umbras move with a silence that is so strange and careful.

You squint your eyes. The urge to tilt your head slightly to peer better at the disturbance is cut short by the bolt in your neck, refusing to let your head tilt save from a slight side to side to give an enthralling smile.

You shouldn’t get too excited. It’s likely mere animals. A pair of raccoons or a stray dog who has lost its owner. Once, you watched a doe deer step softly through the wretched ruins, big wet eyes turning to you for one moment before the blurt of your automated voice lines jumped from your throat and sent the creature bounding away.

Nothing is yours here, not even the moment of daydreaming of you prancing out of this forsaken carnival like a doe deer. Free.

The shadows mingle into the dusky darkness. The blue-gray twilight reveals figures, and your mechanical heart chokes.

Two personages creep along the path winding from the entranceway. The same path leading directly towards the ring toss game; towards you. One dons a thick hood and cape, dark blue like midnight. The other’s head is sharper and unconcealed. A crown of jutting points frame the figure’s disk-like face, and a thick deep brown shawl gathers at his throat and falls down his chest and arms.

As they pass into a silvery slant of budding starlight, metal glints on the crowned one’s face and the other hooded person’s hands spray out while scanning the darkness for threats, silver digits curling and uncurling.

Two automatons. Like you. But not.

A whirl in your servos thrums a loud, exhausted sound, and you stiffen—as much as you can while bolted in place.

What could two automatons want with an abandoned circus? You were never familiar with the world outside of your creator’s home before you were smuggled out against your will by the circus owner, but at the circus, you learned much.

You learned of scavengers and automatons gaining their rights. You always wonder if that’s partly the reason you were left here to rot too—are you too human now to own but robotic enough to be neglected?

They could spy on you in the darkness and decide to strip you for parts. Your clockwork clanks heavily within you like a clapper within a bell, beating against your brass heart. Can they hear it? You have to stop. Be quiet.

The two automatons prowl forward. Their optics and audio processors strain not unlike hounds searching for a fox. What do they prey upon? The crowned one gestures towards the carousel, the ride well within distance to your ring toss game, and you must clench your jaw tightly to keep from whimpering. The hooded one dips his head but keeps moving forward. Your gears crank in jarring motions, jolting and jerking while you hope they take the parts they desire from the circus and leave.

The hooded one continues down the path. Your chassis tightens, and your fingers tremble in place while you keep your eyes averted, held above the automaton’s head but keeping him in the unfocused corners of your optics.

Please. Please, don’t. Your bottom lip quivers.

“Step right up and toss a ring to win a prize!” The words blurt from your mouth and startle all the ruins and everyone within.

Two pairs of glowing eyes fall upon you. Straightening and alerted, the shrouded automatons stare into your fluttering eyelids as you attempt to beg them to leave you alone. A spark burns in your throat. Your voice lines refuse to give.

One stops and reaches silver and blue digits up and lowers the hood slowly. A face gazes at you, scarlet eyes glowing in the darkness with a face like a crescent moon. A blue nightcap, slightly frayed and worn, and decorated in yellow stars, covers his circular faceplate.

The other steps closer with a curious tilt of the sharp points framing the automation’s head, and enters the last of the blue-gray darkness before night completely takes over. A yellow face, grinning with round cheeks, observes you. Pale optics beam.

“Hello, friend,” he speaks, voice bouncing low but with intrigue. “Why don’t you come on out? It’s alright, don’t be afraid.”

Your optics dart side to side. Helplessness settles over you, pinned in place by rusty, dark shame.

“Do you need help?” The one with the pale yellow sun rays steps closer, his eyes narrowing in the slightest. “Are you stuck?”

The moon-face automaton slips closer. The glow of his gaze sweeps over the game you’re bolted in front of, and he fixates on your right arm stiffly held out in invitation as your fingers curl and clench. You glance down at him, wondering if your eyes plead in the way your mouth cannot.

Biting your bottom lip does not prevent another voice line from bursting forth, and inwardly, you crumple.

“Try your hand! One ring around the neck of a bottle wins a prize!”

“Not stuck,” the lunar automaton turns to his accomplice. His cloak shifts like shadows under the arc of the moon. “Trapped.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let us help.” The sunny one steps forward, his hands raised as if to pacify a wild creature. “And, if I may be so bold, your voice box sounds like it’s not your own.”

You wish to nod but only succeed in cranking your head halfway to the right, as if in a gesture towards your hapless situation.

You wonder if they can see the ugly, rusty bolts pinning your body in place, holding you shackled to the ring toss game. They must, for the lunar face man slips closer, stooping down by your feet behind the barrier as he inspects the heavy metal securing you in place. The solar gentleman energetically leaps over the barrier and stops right beside you, hand on his hips. His shawl drapes darkly around him but his grin is bright like a new dawn.

You don’t dare hope. The niceness will fall away like a curtain to reveal the snarling, roaring beast behind it. They will strip you for parts or worse, mock you, revel in your helplessness, and slip back through the night, leaving you with only the daydream of a rescue.

Facing the sunny one, you hold your metaphorical breath as he pauses. He stares deeply into your optics. You stare back into the foggy gray irises he possesses, like a cool, misty fog gathering in the night only to be touched by the sun’s first rays of light.

“Your eyes are beautiful—the same color as forget-me-nots.” The sunny automaton smiles.

Your servos slow to a calm hum.

“Come on,” he says and carefully reaches for your neck to begin unscrewing the bolt stuck in your throat, “You won’t be left to rust here anymore, starlight.”

Your insides melt, touched by their generosity.

Below, at your feet, the dark blue and silver automaton begins to unscrew the bolts holding your feet down. Rust scrapes away and a harsh squeak of metal echoes. You grunt, jostled but, strangely, you hold to hope like a feathered, tiny thing in your hands, hoping to watch it fly again.

“We can fix your voice box,” the lunar one speaks in a slight rasp you find endearing. His gaze remains focused on setting you free. “We have a shop. We repair things sometimes.”

“That’s right,” the solar one chimes in, “We scavenge as well. Don’t worry, we’ve repaired a few automatons or two. You can trust us.”

When he pries the bolt from your neck, you can dip your head in acknowledgment. A strange sensation burns through your wires, heating you from the inside out. Emotion. You wish you could ask for their names.

“You look very delicate.” The one at your feet finally frees one of your porcelain slippers with a slow, cautious tug. “We’ll be gentle.”

He tilts his head upwards and flashes a grin. You find yourself warming in the face. Is he being a tease or does he not know how he sounds? By the mischievous glint in your eyes, you fear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You try to pry your lips apart to find the right words, but all that leaves you is “Enjoy lots of fun! For a small price, of course!”

The automaton of yellow and gray hues glances briefly at you, tilting his heading in confusion while he begins to loosen the bolt stabbed into your right elbow. Holding his gaze, you speak with your eyes, almost pleading.

What are your names?

A spark of understanding answers in his pale optics, and he gasps.

“Moon, where are our manners? I’m so sorry, starlight! My name is Sun, and this is Moon.”

You dip your head again, bobbing up and down in excitement. You know their names. You haven’t learned anything new about anyone in so long…

When they free you from the ring toss game, you can hardly believe how the muddy path now leads you to the outside of the circus as Sun holds you gently in his grasp, how their strides are sure-footed and smooth, and how they look at you with concern.

You vow silently to speak their names the moment your voice is free too.

You haven’t seen anything outside of the carnival in so long, you’ve almost forgotten the sight of dark, shiny paved streets and the lone lamp posts that light the way. Gray and dreary buildings line the streets. One, however, is cheerfully plastered in wooden stars painted bright yellow, and the door is a soft, sky blue with white fluffy clouds along the very top.

Sun and Moon take turns carrying you. Their hands are careful, cradling you close against their cloak and shawl while murmuring that it’s alright. You’re safe. They’ll get you fixed up in no time. Moon cradles you in his arms now as Sun unlocks the door, and holds it open so you can be carried over the threshold.

For an odd reason, it triggers your faceplate to heat up more than the colored rouge on the porcelain should allow.

Through the door, the interior of the workshop is set with tools ranging from smallest to biggest, shelves containing boxes marked, and small containers with different, shiny nuts and bolts. There are even some small containers with shiny, bronze gears. You haven’t seen a spotless floor in so long. There were always leaves and mud staining the path serpentining through the carnival.

A table, coppery under a work lamp, awaits.

“I’m setting you here,” Moon murmurs close to your audio processor before he lays you softly down with a gentle click of your frame against the metal.

“I worry about how long you were left there.” Sun loses the shawl and locates a brown leather apron. Tools line the pockets as he swiftly ties it behind his back. His eyes are creased though he still smiles reassuringly. “By the amount of rust, I would guess years. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. What comes out instead is a showy voice declaring “Whoever can ring three bottles wins the ultimate prize!”

A whirl in your servos practically screams out your embarrassment. You lower your gaze. The stiffness in your joints is almost as unbearable as the voice lines the circus owner forced upon you.

“Shush,” Moon says, his cloak falling away as he snags an apron similar to Sun’s off of a hook. “Wait for a moment, pretty thing, then you may have your words back.”

“That’s right,” Sun nods and shifts to stand close beside you. He grows still for a moment, his bright disposition falling behind a somber cloud. “We’re very lucky to have found you.”

You smile—not the forced, showy smile that has been plastered on your face while you lie in the ruins, but a true smile for the ones who rescued you.

Moon moves to the other side of the table. His hands, now gloved in black leather, hesitate.

“We will open you up now.” The automaton turns flush along the spindle support of his neck. “Is that alright? It’s the only way we can fix your voice box.”

Sun leans forward, his smile still cheery while he modestly averts his eyes, “As well any other damage done from being exposed and negligent for… however long you were out there.”

You never thought the solar automaton could be shy, and yet.

You nod your head as it rests on the table. You feel safe, so much more so than when you were bolted in place. The circus owner did not ask you what you wanted then.

Moon and Sun move in tandem. It’s strange and beautiful, how effortlessly they weave their fingers to begin work. Sun unlocks your chassis and Moon gently lifts it open. You throw your gaze to the ceiling. You don’t want to know. You know they will find it horrible and awful, but you don’t want to see it and have it seared into your mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Moon utters.

You blink, as breathless as a machine can become.

“Your clockwork—is very beautiful,” a slight stumble from his raspy voice seals your fate. You say nothing. You press your lips together and wonder if you might overheat right here and now.

“You are pretty,” Sun continues effortlessly, though there’s a slight trill to his voice that may give away his nervousness or bashfulness, you can’t decide. “Clockwork automatons are rare.”

The circus owner made mention of that.

You close your eyes as Sun and Moon narrate their every movement. Hands held down by your sides, you only occasionally shift or softly buzz as they clean and fix your voice box nestled within the bottom of your throat. They are so gentle. You never knew hands could be so kind, even if they are rummaging through your inner workings.

Could they possibly let you stay?

The absurd thought enters your processor and you almost immediately shove it into a box and bury it deep into cold, black soil.

“You’re doing so good.” Sun grins as he looks down into your chassis. “There. That should do it. Moon?”

“I’m done.”

Slowly, carefully, as if finishing a sacred rite, the two close up your chassis and tighten it back into place. You haven’t opened your eyes yet. A part of you wonders if you’ll only look out into the ruins of the circus again, and find this was all one blissful moment of a daydream.

“Can you say something, starlight?” Sun’s voice washes over you.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready,” Moon answers in a low sound of comfort.

It falls past your lips before you realize you are not ready, but you so terribly want to speak anyway.

“Thank you.” Your eyes flash open, and you gape—the echo. Your soft, demure tones no longer strained into shouting and calling attention.

It’s you.

Your hand touches your lips, and a sound between a laugh and a sob emerges from your voice box.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You look between the two of them, overwhelmed. With the overhead lamp now touching their features as they sit back, grinning, you get to admire their handsome features.

You two are very striking.

“Oh, my,” Sun chuckles, bleeding red in the cheeks, “Thank you!”

“You’re very sweet,” Moon murmurs, touching his nightcap with a slight bashfulness.

And you realize you spoke your thoughts out loud. You called them striking.

“Oh,” you begin to burn.

“It’s alright,” Moon says swiftly, interrupting your apology. “We would like to know what your plans are after this. Now that you’re free.”

“Free,” you whisper back. You clutch at your chest, over your clockwork heart, and marvel. “I…”

You have your voice back. Use it.

“I—if I may be so bold, may I ask to stay with you both? I won’t be a burden. I won’t stay longer than you will allow, and I—”

Sun sighs, dramatic and cheerful, as he finds your hand to hold it.

“I thought you would never ask, starlight!”

Moon’s hand slips under your anxious fingers. His nod echoes his solar counterpart’s enthusiasm. You turn your head between both of them, your lips parting in awe.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Sun. Moon. Thank you.”

#naff's writing commissions #some cute scavengers find you and rescue you from an abandoned circus wdyd?#loved writing this <3 #naff writing

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thequibblah · 2 months ago

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hello thought you’d like to know that your (CT) characterisation of James and Lily reminds me of ‘an ego thing’ by Lizzy McAlpine :)

Oh I totally hear it! Thank you for sharing 🩷

#anon #come together #music disk horse

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olderthannetfic · 16 days ago

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www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/771823370694213632

You need the say the bit about the way canon treats characters way louder because I really think that the way the character is... framed, I guess? accounts for huge chunks of it.

I remember when the Disk Horse was about Finn vs. Kylo Ren from the Star Wars sequel trilogy and I got called racist for trying to point out that Finn was always framed as the comic relief/unserious by the canon. He has a character arc in the first movie, but his emotions and his trauma and his personality are mostly played for laughs (ha! ha! Black janitor guy is scared because he's a coward! - and him being a janitor is a change that came pretty late, he was originally meant to be the top of his class). OTOH Kylo Ren has the camera linger on his anguished face while sad music plays and he monologues about the moral conflicts that he's facing.

The average viewer/reader - especially in the case of visual media - doesn't really stop watching to form non-prejudiced independent opinions on every character (and really shouldn't if your narrative is well-constructed!), that'd take up too much of their mental bandwidth! They let themselves be guided by how things and people are framed, so of course they'd see Ren as Serious and Tragic and Finn as the funny guy, which is inherently less sexy to most people!

Same thing with F/F: when canon treats its women with any degree of complexity and gives them the sort of character traits that are conductive to blorbofication people are all over it!

My dash's been drowning in Rhaenycent for a year now, and that's a show that arguably sorta botched its female characters in the attempt to make them complex! But it doesn't matter, because they set up all these juicy dynamics and the fans are all over it!

Fans LOVE Claudia from IWTV even though the tragedy of her canonical role is that the guys always sideline her for each other.

I went to the Anora tag after seeing the movie and saw a bunch of Anora x reader fic in between the gifs the same way I did for Feyd Rautha from Dune or any other feral unhinged character fans love imagining themselves having sex with (and then blocked it lol).

Like, my taste in women and men is exactly the same but the large majority of characters that fit it are men, because we just don't get a lot of women who are composed, charming rogues on the outside and crippled traumatized messes on the inside, with a narrative that gives this sufficient weight, and also lets them be feral and unhinged. And I actually prefer minority characters because where I'm from I'm from a minority group myself, but again, most of them don't fit the bill personality-wise or framing-wise.

Fandom's a hobby and it's meant to be fun - I'm not gonna be constantly swimming uphill from what the canon is trying to present to me just because a character shares a demographic category with me. I think this is the case for most people, really.

My read on a lot of this is that people are sad about the status quo (fair) and are lying to themselves that the culprits are nearby where they can reach them.

If we confront the fact that the real source is the director or the cinematographer or the studio head, it all feels so much more insurmountable.

Of course, one can opt for niche, indie media, but a lot of people don't want to do that, so they fall back on this shitty coping mechanism of pretending that they can yell at the people around them and effect meaningful change.

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daddy-ul · 1 year ago

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I FOUND SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO GO TOO!!!!!

-2 days to tallica concert movie(s)!!

Is anyone else going?

Me being me, this month I went on a "musical diet" and listened to Metallica as little as possible and avoided to hear the live version of the new songs-- so that I could Experience™️ the concert with some surprise? Djsjsjsjsjsj

✨✨ intricate rituals ✨✨

#im happy!! i dont mind going alone but it's way better to share the enthusiasm right??#it's a karateka from my dojo btw #we get along pretty well but we are not friends #she didnt know abt the movie concert thing and she seemed pumped!#i just hope she isnt one of those fans .... the only type of fan i dont like #>>>> the ones who bitch and moans if they do a song that hasn't been written in the 80s and shits over everything else #i just want to enjoy my fave band. please Apollo god of music protect me from the Disk Horse

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defjux · 18 days ago

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Here are 81 of my favorite albums of 2024 If you noticed the lack of hip hop albums on here, that's because i already posted a separate list for hip hop which you can find here if you're interested. Chart with album titles included I probably listened to the Chelsea Wolfe album more than anything else here but the cure album was such a pleasant surprise for me that I had to put it as number 1. I thought it was a great year for music overall though. I'm really happy with the first few rows on here and those are for sure the albums i'd recommend the most, even though i think everything on here is worth checking out. If you believe there's something i might've missed or your favorite albums of the year aren't on here, let me know! Feel free to leave your own list in the comments, i'd be interested in seeing it. As always, i'll make it so the album titles are a hyperlink that'll take to wherever you can hear it. Peace. 1. The Cure - Songs Of A Lost World 2. Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She 3. Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo 4. chat pile - Cool World 5. Frail Body - Artificial Bouquet 6. Whirr - Raw Blue 7. OKSE - OKSE 8. Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere 9. Trauma Ray - Chameleon 10. Gouge Away - Deep Sage 11. drive your plow over the bones of the dead - Tragedy As Catharsis 12. Thou - Umbilical 13 . Moor Mother - The Great Bailout 14. Terry Green - PROVISIONAL LIVING 15. Krallice - Inorganic Rites 16. Nala Sinephro - Endlessness 17. Punchlove - Channels 18. Beth Gibbons - Lives Outgrown 19. Tenue - Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos 20. Crumb - AMAMA 21. Hammok - Look How Long Lasting Everything Is Moving Forward For Once 22. Infant Island - Obsidian Wreath 23. Meaningful Stone - Angel interview 24. Kamasi Washington - Fearless Movement 25. Arooj Aftab - Night Reign 26. Ulcerate - Cutting The Throat Of God 27. Camila Bañados - Viento 1. 28. Nilufer Yanya - My Method Actor 29. Oranssi Pazuzu - Muuntautuja 30. Mary Halvorson - Cloudward

31. Nails - Every Bridge Burning 32. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD 33. showmore - Liquid City 34. Blushing - Sugarcoat 35. Magdalena Bay - Imaginal Disk 36. Lip Critic - Hex Dealer 37. Joel Ross - nublues 38. State Faults - Children Of The Moon 39. geordie greep - The New Sound 40. Candy - It's Inside You 41. SATOKO SHIBATA - Your Favorite Things 42. Julia Holter - Something in the Room She Moves 43. Gigan - Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus 44. Knoll - As Spoken 45. Jaubi - A Sound Heart 46. Cindy Lee - Diamond Jubilee 47. Blind Girls - An Exit Exists 48. Julie - my anti-aircraft friend 49. Milton Nascimento & Esperanza Spalding - Milton + esperanza 50. Hiatus Kaiyote - Love Heart Cheat Code 51. Isleptonthemoon - Only the Stars Know of My Misfortune 52. Liana Flores - Flower of the soul 53. SML - Small Medium Large 54. Maruja - The Vault 55. Spirit of the Beehive - YOU'LL HAVE TO LOSE SOMETHING 56. Fievel Is Glauque - Rong Weicknes 57. Leaving Time - Angel in the Sand 58. Rita Payés - De camino al camino 59. TURQUOISEDEATH - Kaleidoscope 60. Babii - Daredeviil2000 61. Jessica Pratt - Here In The Pitch 62. HERIOT - Devoured by the Mouth of Hell 63. Dim - planted in the soil 64. Contention - Artillery From Heaven 65. Convulsing - Perdurance 66. The Body & Dis Fig - Orchards of a Futile Heaven 67. Uboa - Impossible Light 68. Melt-Banana - 3+5 69. DIIV - Frog in Boiling Water 70. Amiensus - Reclamation: Part 1 71. Ginger Root - Shinbangumi 72. Hannah Frances - Keeper of the Shepherd 73. Ravyn Lenae - Bird's Eye 74. Garden Home - Garden Home 75. Aara - Eiger 76. graywave - Dancing in the Dust 77. Martha Skye Murphy - Um 78. Mo Dotti - opaque 79. Luna Li - When a Thought Grows Wings 80. Pluma - Não Leve a Mal 81. Twine - New Old Horse

#music recommendations #aoty 2024 #album of the year #the cure #chelsea wolfe #iglooghost #frail body #whirr #okse #blood incantation #trauma ray #gouge away #moor mother #thou

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