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lune-hime · 4 years ago

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Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 9

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“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

Tulipa gesneriana ~ Commonly called the Garden Tulip. A lovely flower with cherry red petals that is never seen cultivating by itself.

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“Now that we’ve had our pity party, how about I act like a proper grandmother and show you some photos.” Oma smiled and rose to grab a weathered tin and a photo album from the bookshelf. Levi felt like the couch was engulfing his form with its soft cradle. When Oma turned around she was met with his body half eaten by the overly plush material; his shoulders hunched and tea propped up against his chest as his body reclined even further inward. He looked pleasantly comfortable and stiff at the same time.

As she plopped the two memory vessels on the coffee table, Levi’s features hardened akin to the rusted box now in front of him. The foreign lettering connected in geometric shapes that he recognized but could not decipher. They left remembrance teetering on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s my father’s cigar box.” Oma explained when she noted his fixation on the object. Levi heaved himself out of the couch’s embrace and propped his elbows on his knees, still fixated on the memento.

“The writing on the side…” Levi let his sentence flit away on his breath as his brain delved deeper into the patterns.

“Writing? What makes you think its writing?” Oma pursed her lips and picked up the weathered box to give it a closer examination. “Looks more like a decorative design.”

Oma shrugged and passed the box to Levi. It felt cold on his freshly tea-cup warmed palms. Flashbacks of loitering about the weathered guard posts, frosted cabins, and Utgard Castle drew back vivid images of the strange symbols. They sparked his curiosity enough to imprint within him, but he didn’t care enough to debate with the old woman.

It would be a memory put on hold for another time.

“I’ve seen something like it at one of the outposts on old crates of supplies and alcohol.” He stated, placing the box down in resignation.

“Hmm.” Oma gave one final acknowledgement before popping the top open. She lifted the haphazardly stacked photos out of their resting place with a gentleness that cradled each precious paper.

As she flipped through them, Levi felt like he was gaining memories of a childhood... a family ...that he never had. It was like observing someone’s entire life through a looking glass. These pictures were of Oma; of her and her husband, of her and their children, of her and you and Petra.

Levi’s brow knitted when she came to a photo of a spry, young version of herself embracing a familiar face-only with a full head of lucious locks.

“You and- Pixis ?” Levi said in exasperation and squinted at the photo as if that would make his shock dwindle.

Oma couldn’t have been much older than you; her statue was slight but her physique was robust. Her hair cascaded from her bun and softly framed her face that smiled wryly at the camera. She was arm in arm with Pixis; his eyes crinkled with happiness and hair (comically) blowing in the wind.

“Ah yes. Dot and I were both squad leaders and grew very close.” Oma sighed with a nostalgic glow. “That man truly had a way with his hands. The last time I saw him Ymir knows I couldn’t restrain myself-”

Levi inhaled his tea so furiously that it seared his throat with the same passion Oma gave off for the garrison commander. She looked on in amusement as he collected himself and cleared the assault on his lungs.

“You mean, you two-” Levi started, mentally wiping away the unwanted visual before it left a permanent stain in his cranium.

“Oh yes. As casual and dedicated as friends but as steaming as this kettle.” Oma’s youthful vigor radiated extra brightly as she reminisced.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Levi asked.

“My husband snatched me away.” She winked and continued on her trip down memory lane.

“Ah! Now that one of you is here…” Oma began excitedly as the next photo was unveiled. “You can tell me all about this one.”

“You have this photo?” Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he relieved the corporeal memory.

“Yup, she sent it to me for safe keepings. Said in her letter that she saw your face enough everyday that she didn’t need the photo right now.”

Levi felt the familiar feeling of his heart expanding when he set his eyes on your elegant beauty. The photo in question was taken at the last Royal Gala after everyone had swapped their military uniforms for evening wear. He always secretly wished he had more excuses to see you in a gown such as that one; the smooth fabric billowed gracefully from your hips, accentuated your curves, and pushed upward the swell of your breasts that were cradled in a lining of lavish lace trim. It would be eternally alluring to him, partially from the lavish overstimulation of the elite banquet and because it was-well- you. He remembered the insatiable feeling of the stark and sudden transition of having absolutely nothing to his name, to being flushed with an abundance of everything in that moment.

You were beaming, a brilliant smile outshining the flashy festival mask that you adorned. Levi...not so much. He gazed into the viewfinder with features hard but eyes delicate in a way that demonstrated he was putting up with your antics. The two of you were pressed into each other's sides as the decadent swirling of the wealthy framed your faces.

If you squinted closely, and looked past the grainy texture and into the background, one would be able to observe Hange swinging Moblit wildly in circles among the party-goers.

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“Why not?” You prodded, arms crossed in defiance at his rejection of your proposition.

“I’m not going to wear some gaudy mask that most likely has the sweat stains of hundreds of people on it.” Levi stated with sharp disgust. His eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you began childishly tugging on the sleeve of his tailcoat.

That tailcoat was the precise reason why you desperately needed to get in line for this photo. It was hard enough to see Levi out of anything but his scouting uniform or his everyday combo of a long sleeved button down and trousers. Both options were easy on the eyes but tonight he looked ravishing. The tailcoat was expertly tailored and clutched the curve of his slim waist and the expanse of his toned arms close to the obsidian fabric.

He was always clean, but cleaned up -so to say-he was absolutely divine. You would never tell him this but his fox like beauty paired with the fancy dress endowed him with the grace of a prince.

“You don’t have to wear the mask! Although that would make it less fun…” You mumbled in a last ditch attempt, hoping he would take pity for you on this special occasion.

“Great now that we’ve established it’s not fun, let’s go get another drink.” He replied, unfazed and unwavered. He began turning towards the outer end of the ballroom where waiters danced with shining trays instead of partners.

“No!” You yelped, scampering as hurriedly as your heels would allow you to stand in front of him. Your chest was heaving in excitement for the extravagant evening (and by the walls was that corset tight). Your heels increased your already apparent height difference and made your very... perky breasts at eye level with his gaze. Levi coughed to rebuild his crumbling composure. He kindly reminded himself he was at a government sponsored event and that no matter how desperately he desired to let his eyes wander this was not the time and place.

“You said I look beautiful tonight, right?” You quipped with a pointed glare.

“Of course.” His lack of hesitation in his answer made the alcohol content in your blood skyrocket as you became drunk on him even more than you already had.

“Well if you would take 5 minutes to take this photo with me that’s 5 minutes until I’m willing to sneak out of here with you. Then you can see this beautiful gown on your chamber’s floor.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief akin to the iridescent pearls that were nestled into your ears.

Levi’s brow quirked in intrigue and you were a deer caught in the sly beams of his eyes.

“Fine.”

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“What a wonderful gala that was. I usually despise such events but I gotta examine you in person for the first time, no matter how brief our encounter was. I got to see my girl in such a lovely gown, and I got to absolutely feel Dot-”

“I don’t need a narrative.” Levi intercepted quickly with a sharp tinge of annoyance that sent Oma into a mess of snorts and laughter.

That strange sensation washed over him once more. The pleasantly warm bubble that made him feel like he was home but standing on the outskirts of the precipice all at once.

“Is that why we didn’t get to actually meet?” Levi trailed off as realization snapped him like a taut rubber band. While he was forced to blandly entertain the higher ups and delegates your grandmother was snogging a commander.

“Oh hush, you’re an adult, stop acting like a teenage boy.” She playfully chided with a glint in her eye that made Levi take step closer to that tempting bubbling feeling.

A gentle knock on the wood paneling caused Oma and Levi to raise their heads to meet Felicia’s gaze.

“I’m going to head home now, Frau Vogel.” She said with a tired smile as she poked her head around the living room archway.

“Damn, it really has gotten dark hasn’t it?” Oma mumbled as she took in the waning light.

“My dear, it’s much too late to be walking back by yourself. You can stay in your old room.” Her response was a medley of chastising and fondness.

“O-oh, no. I mean-how kind of you-but I don’t have a change of fresh clothes and these ones have bits of blood and schnitzel on them…” Felicia sighed with a whine. Oma was about to interject her dramatic behavior when Levi’s voice filled the space instead.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, tone as smooth and calm as the golden liquid in his cup. He placed his cup on the saucer with a small clank and rose from the couch. Felicia bristled in bashful gratitude as he quietly padded over to the front door and began lacing his boots.

Oma gave Felicia a wink and nestled further into the couch, letting the cushions cradle her old bones and the aroma of the tea lull her into relaxation.

“The kitchen is clean, I folded all of the towels-” Felicia hurriedly explained when Levi held the door open for her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Now off you go, I’ll come fetch you tomorrow.” Oma shooed the jittery girl out of the house with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, Felicia-” She interjected. The young woman poked her head back into the archway.

“If I hear one peep out of you about not paying you for looking after Y/N this next week I will have to start cooking the schnitzel myself.”

Felicia gasped in betrayal as the fireflies that worshiped the porch flowers sent she and her companion off on their moonlit walk. The grit of shoes against the pebbled road took over the silence which Levi observed Felicia desperately wanted to fill. She seemed to feel pressure to speak, to offer something other than the emptiness of the countryside. Levi, on the other hand, was completely content with bathing in the blissful numbness of the cricket symphonies and the wind kisses of the path.

“How does our village compare to where you’re from?” Felicia barely overpowered the whistling of the grass with her slight tone. Her question was an innocent one. One with good intent that Levi didn’t dare spoil given the past two days of anguish.

“It’s...definitely more colorful.” He let the sweet air fill his tired lungs. He had seen a larger aurora of colors in these past 48 hours than he reckoned he had ever seen in his monochromatic existence. Going from the diluted underground to the emerald green seas and burnt brick of the walls didn’t leave much room for hue.

“So you’re from an urban area then?” Felicia continued, enthused that Levi had picked up her conversation.

“You could say that.” His reply was vague but left no room for further explanation. Truthfully, he felt as much from that festering tumor as a migratory bird feels for its winter home. It was where he was birthed, raised, existed . But he didn’t truly live until he rid his mouth of the dusted, stale air and crumbing ceilings of the underground.

Felicia’s mouth hung open with an incoming response when a screech erupted in its place. Levi grunted as she jumped sideways right into him, colliding into his sore shoulder. He just barely caught her as he staggered backwards. She stumbled against his chest before he propped her back up straight by her underarms.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with an irritation he couldn’t restrain. Felicia’s bodyweight had punctured his shoulder with sharp needles that disturbed the dull hum of his pain.

“Oh walls, I’m so so SO sorry sir-I MEAN LEVI!” She babbled as she floundered to eject herself from his support so as to not burden him any more.

“I-I, something moved in the bush right next to me!” Felicia’s tone wobbled just as her legs did. Levi followed her trembling gaze and prepared himself for a feral dog or a wild boar. If it was anything bigger than that, like a bear, they were absolutely fucked.

The snort that erupted from the bush elicited another shrill scream from the maid. Levi’s muscles tensed in the realization that he would have to fend off the beast with his bare hands in his absence of weapons. He brought up a protective arm in front of Felicia when a pawing in the foliage neared the paved pathway. The thick anticipation mingled with the drumming of hearts was the soundtrack to the animal moving into the lamplight.

Levi’s muscles instantly relaxed. All except his chest. It shook with candid chuckles that materialized as a small hum and blossomed into a full blown laughter.

“Hello Big Shit.” Levi’s smile was radiant against the artificial lighting as Puddle aparated out of the bushes, his form now fully visible in the dim illumination. “He must have followed us.”

“B-big shhhh?” Felicia stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment. She was too polite to finish the last word.

Then he did it again.

He laughed so freely it put the crickets to shame. Felicia pursed her lips awkwardly and smoothed her nervous hands along her apron.

“He’s Y/N’s.” Levi cooed , reaching a delicate hand out to the horse and letting him press his plush nose to his knuckles. Felicia’s jaw went slack once more. She felt like she was regarding a completely separate individual she had previously been acquainted with. His cicada shell had been discarded on the path with the others and now only tenderness enveloped the man’s being.

“He is quite terrifying.” Levi teased gently as Puddle extended his neck to nuzzle hot breaths into his cheek. Felicia flushed at her overreaction. Levi turned from the horse to her with a glow that made her swear he was a tranquil forest spirit rather than the man who was walking her home. At her shock he immediately reigned himself back in, clearing his throat and partially crawling back into his cicada skin.

“If he’s followed us this far he’ll keep walking with us.” Levi said, the brief bloom of outward happiness coming to an end.

After a few minutes of only the comets’ luminous words trickling through the sky and the occasional snort, Felicia spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you happy.” She commented bashfully.

“It’s not like I haven’t been happy before.” He huffed, unsure of where to place her heartfelt compliment among the ever turbidness of his mind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just-I’ve never seen you smile before.” She cringed as she said it and Levi’s snort mimicked the horse behind them. He let her observation marinade under the moonlight.

“Happiness shows itself in different ways.” He mused and the corners of her lips upturned smally at her silliness.

“I just can’t imagine what you and Y/N have to go through.” She said with the careful articulation of a confession.

“D-did you see it happen?” She asked apprehensively. The nightmare scape tore through his cornea and implanted itself as if he was seeing it vividly again.

“No.” He exhaled.

The mass of flesh reeked of steamed rotted meat in the background of your shuddering form blanketed in torn cloth and soaked in sticky blood. His feet were caught in a time loop, too slow to reach you but too fast to wrap his mind around the potential discovery of your demise. His knees burned against the fabric of his trousers as they slid on the viscous ground to you. Your eyes were open wide and even though they were looking right at him, they went right through him like he was transparent against the skyline. The titan and you shared a bed of grass but by the walls not a resting place.

“But I saw the one that did it to her.” He continued as he blinked away the flash of mental scar tissue. “Her blade was lodged into its neck and it was bleeding profusely from its eye.”

Felicia winced at his description.

“She’s grown so strong.” Her whimper got lodged in her throat.

Little lanterns perched on the exterior of modest cottages floated into existence on both sides of the road as they neared Felicia’s neighborhood.

“How long have you known Y/N and Oma?” He asked to change the conversation for the sake of both their emotional turmoil. Felicia brightened up a bit at his term for her mistress.

“Since I was very young.” She smiled the weight right off of Levi’s shoulders. “My parents worked for Oma and her husband. I became Y/N’s babysitter or sorts, and by default many times Jean’s too, then the housekeeper to make some money.”

Levi recounted her reaction to the photo of Jean earlier and decided to attempt to lighten the mood like the wispy moss that dangled over their heads.

“Jean is single.” He revealed and eyed her in muted amusement for her reaction. Felicia turned beet red, the statement adding an extra sheepish pop to her step.

“O-oh, that’s hard for me to believe.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Really?” Levi replied without a drop or sarcasm. He understood why you put up with the boy because you had been friends for so long. But he would forever wonder how mentally stable the person who would willingly date him was.

Felicia gulped as his question hung out to try on the overarching maple branches.

“W-well, I mean-he’s funny, considerate, determined-”

“Determined to keep his long face up my asshole.” Levi finished her musings, dodging a moth as it flew too close to his nose. Felicia giggled at his half-assed insult.

“Determination, no matter what the kind, is a handsome quality.”

Levi hummed at her sincere answer. Her excitement over the boy rubbed warm circles into his chest. It reminded himself of his blooming feelings for you.

“When was the last time you saw him?” He asked as Felicia led him down a left fork in the road.

“Oh, a little less than a year ago? He and Y/N don’t get to come home a lot, you know.”

Their conversation was concluded in the middle of the road when Felicia halted in front of a beige cottage.

“This is me.” Her grin pushed up the apples of her cheeks and she cheesily pointed to the home. Levi nodded once and watched as she delicately climbed up the steps, deftly avoiding the garden rocks in the darkness until she reached her porch.

“Thank you for walking me here. You’ll be okay finding your way back?” She affirmed as she turned her key into the lock. Levi nodded once more and she breathed out a timid laugh.

“Alright, good night Levi.” She smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Big...um.” She turned to Puddle and wrinkled her nose.

“Shit.” Levi finished with crinkled eyes.

“Sh...shit.” She blurted and danced in place as if she had uttered a tremendous sin. Levi waited until she was halfway inside when she surprised him by returning to his presence. She paused, the light emanating from the open door allowing them to see each other clearly. She threw him a genuine smile that made him feel naked in the pale night.

“You know, you fit in really well here.”

Levi twirled the circlets of metallic promises between his fingers as he let the warmth of this evening’s reactions carry him home.

Fuck, did he just think home ?

In such a short amount of time, these gardens of tulips and those that harvest them had uprooted the numbness he had trained himself to harbor. He’d now gotten a sickeningly sweet taste of life and it was going to be hard for him to not grow addicted to it. The rings began to feel too heavy for him to carry and he placed them securely back in his pocket as he neared the estate.

With Puddle contained for the moment, he tapped his dirtied boots against the doormat and stepped into the living room. His feet sank deep into the fertilizer as he looked upon Oma. She had fallen asleep curled into the sofa, her empty tea cup cuddled into her embrace and the photo album discarded on the adjacent cushion.

He felt oddly like an intruder as he gingerly released the cup from her grasp. Felt the peculiar stab of domestic alienation when he draped the crocheted blanket over her. This was what home was supposed to resemble. Not a sullen room with a single bed and a mother called upon only to come home a wilted flower with her petals torn. Levi was knee deep in the garden soil now and he dove further and further into the dirt every passing day he spent here.

He tiptoed up the creaky steps, shed your father’s clothes in exchange for more appropriate sleepwear, and gravitated to your room. The armchair screeched dully against the flooring as he brought it closer to your bed. And he allowed himself to dream of living for once instead of just existing.

You fit in really well here.

Morning arrived on the chaotic wings of angry sparrows and a pleasant plush heat on his back. Levi groaned as he felt his back scream at him for his hunched over position. He clutched the blanket to his body as he stretched out the kinks. He rubbed the fluffy material between his fingers as he groggily recalled that he definitely didn’t go to sleep with this. As he sat up a light fluttering fell to the ground from his shoulder. Looking to the floor he noticed a note. He bent down to retrieve it and held it close to his sandy eyes.

I let you sleep in today because you need it-don’t deny it.

I’m off to get Felicia and we’re stopping by the apothecary on the way home but we shouldn’t be too long.

Here’s a blanket.

You don’t want your body to be as cold as your heart <3.

Oma

Levi rested his head on his blanket covered palm, nuzzling into the softness as he sighed in mild contentment.

“I lied-I understand how the two of you are related.” Levi whispered lightly towards you, the sounds as airy as the birds tapping at the glass.

It was another beautifully scenic day dressed in another of your father’s outfits babysitting another kettle of tea. Levi peeked out the kitchen window and wondered if everyday in this countryside was euphoric. But rather than basking in the lovely weather he opted to spend his morning tea with the one whose absence left this house just short of paradise.

He was careful to not clank the tray around as he reentered your room and spread open the curtains. However, the moment his fingers pulled the fabric apart the little winged rats announced their presence rather aggressively.

“Fuck off.” Levi threatened with a flick to the glass. His finger came back coated in dust.

"Felicia is a fucking disappointment of a cleaner."

And so the morning was spent sipping on temporary relief and gazing at the embodiment of comfort in your bed until his cup grew vacant. His chair creaked with age as he abandoned his post to refill his energy source.

Time slowed as it did two days ago and it was a miracle he avoided burning his fingers. They froze on the hot kettle as he was electrocuted by a weak gasp.

“Lee-” A desperately familiar voice with the body of a crumb murmured. He whipped around to see his most treasured blend of colors open up into his being.

Conscious.

Looking at him.

Actually at him.

The china fell from his petrified fingers and hit the rug with a bounce.

“Le-vi”

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #Levi Heichou #Levi fanfiction #levi fluff #aot #snk #snk x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #Jean Kirschstein #bisexual jean #levi/reader #hange zoe #aot fluff

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soundofseventeen · 4 years ago

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We Belong Together (Part Eight)

Who’s watching In-Complete??? But I’m also tired lmao.

Word count: 1741

It seemed that Jihoon had a hard time keeping secrets because when you scheduled an impromptu delivery for them, 12 other boys had ambushed you with questions and concerns for your new home, all the while hugging you as if they hadn’t seen you in decades, and answering everything. You gladly gave them your new address, letting them know that they were still welcomed anytime, even going as far as presenting Seventeen’s leaders with keys in case of anything. After all, some things just never changed, and you felt your home would’ve been much too quiet.

You quickly regretted it when you saw the housewarming gifts that you pretty sure cost more than the house itself and you hid those somewhere you hoped wouldn’t break, only taking them out when you found somewhere you knew wouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings.

You didn’t know where you and Jihoon stood at the moment, but if he wasn’t asking questions, neither were you. He often asked you out to dinner with the guys and made a show of sitting next to you, mostly just to monopolize the conversation, and you weren’t complaining about that either. You liked hearing him talk someone’s ears off with the mindless babble his brain often came up with and you saw a lot of smiles directed at you every time you broke eye contact with Jihoon. He also liked to hold your hand a lot, usually taking your hand right back in his when you let go, though you would’ve appreciated it if he didn’t tell you in front of everyone why you were so shy..

He also (finally) gave you first listens from demos to completed albums, although he rarely took your advice for some things. Most nights, when it was too late to go back to the dorms, he would come home with you, the pullout couch becoming his fastest friend to date and many times, leaving your place as soon as there was light out, but purposely left things behind so he’d have an excuse to come back, and it happened more as the months progressed. He liked staying up late with you on the couch, watching movies until you could barely keep your eyes open. On several occasions, he put the blanket over you in an attempt to keep you from escaping to your own bed and it worked most of the time.

Sometimes when he noticed you were gonna actually sleep on the pullout with him, he’d adjust himself so he’d be facing you, and he couldn’t help himself when he traced the features on your face, smiling to himself. When you’d wake up from the tickling he caused, he’d retract his hand, but the smile stayed on his face and he talked to you quietly about everything in his mind. His favorite part was when you’d reach for his hand, and twine it with yours and with your other hand, brushing the hair from his face.

The nights you went to your own bed, he’d call you the second you were gone from his sight, and played 20 questions until one of you stopped talking. He never hung up on you and he never went to your room unless he had permission from you. It was the only place he considered your space in its entirety and he respected your boundaries (even if he would’ve liked to go in many times).

He didn’t like being faraway from you, though he wouldn’t admit to it outloud. He’d wake up earlier these times, not liking how cold he felt without you, even though he wouldn’t say anything either. He’d just wait until you woke up to be close to you again. His favorite part of the mornings he stayed a little longer was how you made him a cup of coffee before you went to shower to get ready for work. You often had to fight him so he wouldn’t leave without the coffee you swore he’d like and he liked being in the middle of something when you realized he did exactly that.

Seventeen continued to stop by where you worked, only with the ever growing money in their pockets and wallets, they paid for everything instead of charging and crediting it for another time. And every time, they made sure that you got something to get you through the rest of your shifts. They sidetracked you a lot but your bosses were friendly with them, only scolding them when they joked about taking you with them.

Your workplace seemed a lot better now too. Ever since said bosses decided they trusted you with their funds, you went to the bank and became a check signer for deliveries that required a prompt payment and you deposited twice a week for them. It seemed that shitty customers became a little more pleasant once they saw you in a position of power. Oh and when your annoying coworker quit, it called for a big sigh of relief, and fast worry about how you were gonna train a newbie. Through that, you wondered why you even wanted to quit when you knew you loved it there, even on your bad days. Your other coworkers respected you, your bosses treated you as part of the family, and you made some pretty reliable connections, such as sponsoring ISAC for one of the events.

You’d been thrilled to tell your bosses the news, a few tears spilling out when they figured out that the small publicity could cement the business for them and they wouldn't have to worry about foreclosing or selling or letting employees go. If anything, they’d be able to expand! But you didn’t tell the boys this news either, because secrets and surprises were the only thing you always had the upper hand in. So you continued going on about your daily life, almost spilling the beans multiple times when some of the members caught you loading some things and finding you in places that you normally wouldn’t be in. But finally the day arrived and you breathed a collective sigh of relief that you could finally let this go and focus on other things again.

You set up your booth, snacks and everything pretty early, the only thing you needed to do was wait for literally everyone else to show up, so you put on your sunglasses whenever the glare caught you off guard and prepped any snacks that may have needed extra time. Due to you spending so much time around Seventeen, it was a lot easier for you to see the idols and actors without losing your composure (much), and catering to them was -mostly- a cinch. You knew a couple of their friends so you waved to them quite a bit. But you hadn’t seen the boys in question yet, so you opted to read one of the books you bought, this time being in the mood to reread the Twilight series, so you cracked open the book, skimming your favorite part a couple of times before you picked up where you left off.

“Hi excuse me,” you peeked up at the annoying customer, nearly reiterating when you recognized him, but you stayed put. “I’m sorry, but do you have any limes?”

“How many?”

“Uh,” Jooheon held up his hand to count, then turned back to count his friends, counted his fingers once more and then smiled at you. “A handful would be great.”

You nodded once, taking off your sunglasses and got up from your seat to comply with the strange boy’s request.

“Not to be creepy or anything, but do I know you from somewhere? You just seem really familiar.”

“I live near Pledis and the commute to where I work is a b- pretty long, so maybe that?” You found the citrusy fruit and placed them in his palm until he couldn’t fit any more.

Jooheon’s hands twitched soon after and sent them flying on the counter. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think my hands would spasm!”

You resisted the urge to blow an annoyed sigh and smiled instead. “It’s fine. Let me help you with that.” You gave him a little less when you put them back in his hands and waited for the thank you...that never came. His hands once again sent the green things flying and this time you didn’t hold back an eyeroll. He was one of those guys, huh? You’d be lecturing Seventeen about their friend choices next time you saw them.

“I’m sorry….I’m just bad at pick-up limes.” And then your brain registered the joke around the same time Jooheon laughed at your confused expression and you couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Oh my god, that actually worked?”

“No,” you shook your head, “but you get points for trying. I….” you couldn’t make the words come out to tell him about Jihoon. Even with all your years of knowing him and being together, there wasn’t an official thing for you yet, but you also couldn’t just not tell Jooheon about the situation. “I’m already seeing someone.” You spotted Seventeen just then, Mingyu no doubt scoping the place to find something to drink and you waved at them.

“No worries, I hope you’re happy with him, uh?”

“Y/N.”

“Cool. I’ll hopefully see you around Y/N. it was nice meeting you.”

You nodded as the boys caught up to him and you, all but Jihoon going to greet Monsta X.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, surprise!” You waved at him happily and quickly caught him up to speed. “A while ago, someone asked if we were interested in sponsoring the event. Not the whole thing, of course, but you know. I asked my bosses and they said yes.”

Jihoon snuck a peek around in case eyes were on him, and quickly squeezed your hand before passing it off as handing you a lime. “You really do amaze me. I’m glad your doors just keep opening. Um, is it okay, if I come over tonight? I want to talk to you about something. It’s nothing bad, don’t worry, but I need to hear your thoughts.”

You nodded, though you could already feel the anxiety creeping up on you. He squeezed your hand again, and smiled at you.

“You have nothing to worry about, I promise.” He would’ve kissed your fears away, but with everyone watching, all he could do was give you his word.

“Okay.”

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bananaofswifts · 4 years ago

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Taylor Swift Leaves Her Comfort Zones Behind on the Head-Spinning, Heartbreaking ‘Folklore’

Her eighth album is a radical detour into the deepest collection of songs she’s ever come up with.

So here we are again. The world was in the middle of the cruelest summer ever, just staggering through late July, when Taylor Swift decided to make it all so much messier — her specialty. In a move that nobody saw coming, she announced a surprise album on July 23rd, less than a year after her career-capping smash Lover. (A year to the day after she dropped “The Archer.”) Like the rest of us, Swift had to cancel her summer, including her LoverFest shows, which would have been next week. Instead, she spent the quarantine season throwing herself into a new secret project: her eighth album, Folklore. But the real surprise is the music itself — the most head-spinning, heart-breaking, emotionally ambitious songs of her life.

It’s a total goth-folk album, mostly acoustic guitar and piano, largely in collaboration with the National’s Aaron Dessner. No pop songs at all. It’s as far beyond Lover as Lover was beyond Reputation. She’s always relished her dramatic creative zigzags, but this is easily her most audacious move, full of story-telling depth she’s never come close to before. Some of us have spent years dreaming Taylor would do a whole album like this, but nobody really dreamed it would turn out this great. Her greatest album — so far.

Lover self-consciously summed up the first 30 years of her life, bringing all her musical passions together. But on Folklore, she leaves her comfort zones behind. It sounds like she figured she wasn’t going to be touring these songs live anyway, so she gave up on doing anything for the radio, anything rah-rah or stadium-friendly. She just made some coffee, sat at the piano, and let her mind wander into some dark places. You can picture the candle on her piano flickering as the wax melts over her copy of Wuthering Heights and another song rolls out.

Her sonic chemistry with Dessner is right in every detail; she also teams up with her longtime wingman Jack Antonoff and duets with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon on “Exile.” The vibe is close to “Safe and Sound,” the rootsy gem she did with the Civil Wars for The Hunger Games soundtrack in 2013. As she explains in her Prologue, “In isolation my imagination has run wild and this album is the result, a collection of songs and stories that flowed like a stream of consciousness. Picking up a pen was my way of escaping into fantasy, history, and memory.”

Folklore really feels like the debut album of a whole new Swift — her narrative scope has opened up, with a wide-ranging cast of characters, for seventeen songs without a dud. Yet you can still hear that this is the same songwriter who dropped “Last Kiss” on the world ten July-ninths ago. Here’s a Swift progress report on her quarantine: “I’ve been having a hard time adjusting/I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting/I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that.” The power of her mind.

It’s amusing in retrospect how people actually worried that being happy in love might mean Swift would run out of things to write songs about. Not a chance. It turns out to be the other way around, as she lets these characters tell their own stories: A scandalous old widow, hated by her whole town. A scared seven-year-old girl with a traumatized best friend. A ghost watching her enemies at the funeral. Recovering addicts. A fumbling teenage boy. Three of the highlights — “Cardigan,” “August,” and “Betty” — depict the same love triangle, from all three different perspectives. Other songs tell both sides of a story: “The 1” and “Peace,” or “Invisible String” and “The Lakes.”

Folklore hits overdrive halfway through, when it reaches a trilogy of heavy hitters. “August,” the album’s most plainly beautiful ballad, is a summer romance gone wrong: “I can see us tangled in bed sheets/August slipped away like a bottle of wine/Because you were never mine.” “This Is Me Trying” is the disturbingly witty tale of someone pouring her heart out, to keep herself from pouring more whiskey. “Illicit Affairs” is another tale of infidelity: “Take the words for what they are/A dwindling mercurial high/A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.” The tension explodes when she sings, “Don’t call me kid/Don’t call me baby/Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

It’s going to take weeks if not decades to puzzle out all the intricately inter-woven narrative details of these songs. “Mirrorball” is about the same nervous dance-floor poseur of “New Romantics,” six years later, except tonight she feels like the disco ball that reflects everyone’s most desperate insecurities. “Mad Woman” expands on the familiar topic of witch hunts, but it also sharpens the feminist rage of “The Man.” “The Last Great American Dynasty” satirizes the upper-crust milieu of “Starlight” when she sings, “There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen/I had a marvelous time ruining everything.” (Taylor uses the word “marvelous” twice in her career, and both time it’s songs about the Kennedys? No detail is too tiny for her to plan eight years in advance.)

“Betty” is a first — she sings in the voice of the 17-year-old boy in a Taylor Swift song, reckoning with the fickle behavior detailed by the girls in “Cardigan” and “August.” It takes off from the harmonica solo in Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” — which feels appropriate for the only tale on the album where she goes back to high school. “The Lakes” is a bonus track for vinyl, CD and (what a flex) cassette, but it’s a must-hear: Taylor walks in the footsteps of William Wordsworth, the Romantic poet who essentially invented the kind of introspective writing she does, wandering the Windermere Peaks of the Lake District.

Remember when she was threatening to spend this year re-recording all her old albums? She does the opposite here — she refuses to repeat her most reliable tricks. So many of the world’s favorite Swiftian trademarks are missing. No country moves, no synth pop, no first dates, no “Taylor visits a city” song, not even a laugh. The references to fame are few and far between, although they’re tasty when they do show up, as in “Invisible String”: “Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to L.A.” She can’t resist adding: “Cold was the steel of my axe to grind/For the boys who broke my heart/Now I send their babies presents.” Touché.

If Lover was the last album of her twenties, Folklore is the first of her thirties. Lover was styled as a well-rounded musical autobiography, with everything from Nashville twang to electro-disco. Folklore takes a completely different approach, yet feels even more intimate, simply because it’s the sound of an artist with absolutely nothing to prove. She’s never sounded this relaxed or confident, never sounded this blasé about winning anyone over. It makes perfect sense that the quarantine brought out her best, since she’s always written so poignantly about isolation and the temptation to dream too hard about other people’s far-away lives. (“Last Kiss” is usually a summer favorite, but this year, “hope it’s nice where you are” feels a little too close to the bone.) On Folklore, she dreams up a host of characters to keep her company, and stepping into their lives brings out her deepest wit, compassion, and empathy. And it sounds like for Taylor Swift, her best is yet to come.

#taylor swift #folklore #review

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ts1989fanatic · 4 years ago

Text

Taylor Swift Leaves Her Comfort Zones Behind on the Head-Spinning, Heartbreaking ‘Folklore’

Her eighth album is a radical detour into the deepest collection of songs she’s ever come up with

So here we are again. The world was in the middle of the cruelest summer ever, just staggering through late July, when Taylor Swift decided to make it all so much messier — her specialty. In a move that nobody saw coming, she announced a surprise album on July 23rd, less than a year after her career-capping smash Lover. (A year to the day after she dropped “The Archer.”) Like the rest of us, Swift had to cancel her summer, including her LoverFest shows, which would have been next week. Instead, she spent the quarantine season throwing herself into a new, secret project: her eighth album, Folklore. But the real surprise is the music itself — the most head-spinning, heartbreaking, emotionally ambitious songs of her life.

Her sonic chemistry with Dessner is right in every detail; she also teams up with her longtime wingman Jack Antonoff, and duets with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon on “Exile.” The vibe is close to “Safe and Sound,” the rootsy gem she did with the Civil Wars for The Hunger Games soundtrack in 2013. As she explains in her Prologue, “In isolation my imagination has run wild and this album is the result, a collection of songs and stories that flowed like a stream of consciousness. Picking up a pen was my way of escaping into fantasy, history, and memory.”

Folklore really feels like the debut album of a whole new Swift — her narrative scope has opened up, with a wide-ranging cast of characters for 17 songs, without a dud. Yet you can still hear that this is the same songwriter who dropped “Last Kiss” on the world 10 July-9ths ago. Here’s a Swift progress report on her quarantine: “I’ve been having a hard time adjusting/I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting/I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that.” The power of her mind.

It’s amusing, in retrospect, how people actually worried that being happy in love might mean Swift would run out of things to write songs about. Not a chance. It turns out to be the other way around, as she lets these characters tell their own stories: A scandalous old widow, hated by her whole town. A scared seven-year-old girl with a traumatized best friend. A ghost watching her enemies at the funeral. Recovering addicts. A fumbling teenage boy. Three of the highlights — “Cardigan,” “August,” and “Betty” — depict the same love triangle, from all three different perspectives. Other songs tell both sides of a story: “The 1” and “Peace,” or “Invisible String” and “The Lakes.”

Folklore hits overdrive halfway through, when it reaches a trilogy of heavy hitters. “August,” the album’s most plainly beautiful ballad, is a summer romance gone wrong: “I can see us tangled in bedsheets/August slipped away like a bottle of wine/Because you were never mine.” “This Is Me Trying” is the disturbingly witty tale of someone pouring her heart out, to keep herself from pouring more whiskey. “Illicit Affairs” is another tale of infidelity: “Take the words for what they are/A dwindling mercurial high/A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.” The tension explodes when she sings, “Don’t call me kid/Don’t call me baby/Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

It’s going to take weeks if not decades to puzzle out all the intricately interwoven narrative details of these songs. “Mirrorball” is about the same nervous dance-floor poseur of “New Romantics,” six years later, except tonight she feels like the disco ball that reflects everyone’s most desperate insecurities. “Mad Woman” expands on the familiar topic of witch hunts, but it also sharpens the feminist rage of “The Man.” “The Last Great American Dynasty” satirizes the upper-crust milieu of “Starlight” when she sings, “There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen/I had a marvelous time ruining everything.” (Taylor uses the word “marvelous” twice in her career, and both times it’s in songs about the Kennedys? No detail is too tiny for her to plan eight years in advance.)

“Betty” is a first — she sings in the voice of the 17-year-old boy in a Taylor Swift song, reckoning with the fickle behavior detailed by the girls in “Cardigan” and “August.” It takes off from the harmonica solo in Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” — which feels appropriate for the only tale on the album where she goes back to high school. “The Lakes” is a bonus track for vinyl, CD, and (what a flex) cassette, but it’s a must-hear: Taylor walks in the footsteps of William Wordsworth, the Romantic poet who essentially invented the kind of introspective writing she does, wandering the Windermere Peaks of the Lake District.

Remember when she was threatening to spend this year rerecording all her old albums? She does the opposite here — she refuses to repeat her most reliable tricks. So many of the world’s favorite Swift-ian trademarks are missing. No country moves, no synth pop, no first dates, no “Taylor visits a city” song, not even a laugh. The references to fame are few and far between, although they’re tasty when they do show up, as in “Invisible String”: “Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to L.A.” She can’t resist adding: “Cold was the steel of my axe to grind/For the boys who broke my heart/Now I send their babies presents.” Touché.

If Lover was the last album of her twenties, Folklore is the first of her thirties. Lover was styled as a well-rounded musical autobiography, with everything from Nashville twang to electro-disco. Folklore takes a completely different approach, yet feels even more intimate, simply because it’s the sound of an artist with absolutely nothing to prove. She’s never sounded this relaxed or confident, never sounded this blasé about winning anyone over. It makes perfect sense that the quarantine brought out her best, since she’s always written so poignantly about isolation and the temptation to dream too hard about other people’s far-away lives. (“Last Kiss” is usually a summer favorite, but this year, “Hope it’s nice where you are” feels a little too close to the bone.) On Folklore, she dreams up a host of characters to keep her company, and stepping into their lives brings out her deepest wit, compassion, and empathy. And it sounds like for Taylor Swift, her best is yet to come.

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voodoochili · 4 years ago

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My 75 Favorite Albums of 2020

Every year produces excellent music and 2020 was no exception. The exceptional thing about this year, though, is the loss of livelihood so many musicians suffered as a result of the pandemic. To better celebrate all I’ve listened to and loved this year, I’ve expanded my albums list from 50 to 75 albums and included a highlight track from each in the Spotify playlist below. If you like what you hear, why not throw the artist a few dollars on Bandcamp?

Check the Spotify playlist HERE.

Without further ado, my favorite albums of 2020. Happy New Year, and happy listening!

10. Playboi Carti - Whole Lotta Red: Carti’s long-awaited opus has only been out for a week, which is probably not a long enough time to give an album as sprawling and surprising as this one a full critical evaluation. But I do know when I’m hearing something that’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard: this album rearranges hip-hop at the molecular level.

Whole Lotta Red is overstuffed with invention, the glitchy, expansive production giving Carti ample opportunity to glom onto the contours of the beat and experiment with his voice. That voice is the album’s main attraction: it squeaks, it squeals, it roars, it spits, it shudders, and organizes itself into irresistibly ignorant mantras (my current favorite is “Lamborghini parked outside, it’s purple like lean”).

Across its 24 tracks (which feels like too many, sure, but only the 5-minute long Kid Cudi-infected droner “Metamorphosis” overstays its welcome), Carti plays with listener expectations, annihilating rap songwriting conventions (why do you need verse-chorus structure if every line is a hook) as he defiantly proclaims his desire to be unlike anybody else. Though it bears some resemblance in sound and subject matter to Future’s Monster (and much of the production owes a debt to the work of Lil Uzi Vert’s favored Working Of Dying collective), Whole Lotta Red firmly establishes Carti as a totemic figure connecting mainstream and underground sounds.

9. BbyMutha - Muthaland: BbyMutha is a natural born spitter, armed with a drawly stutter-stepping flow that routinely annihilates unconventional instrumentals. She glows with supreme confidence and comfort in her own skin, especially when she’s dripping with disdain with those who’d dare refuse her the respect she deserves. A 25-track opus that earns every minute of its runtime, Muthaland is an engrossing immersion into Mutha’s world, balancing a fascination with the occult (“Sorry I don’t fuck with n****s who don’t fuck with Satan”) with grounding interjections from close friends and her four children. Boasting rockstar fantasies like “Heavy Metal,” bad girl anthems like “Nice Guy,” and dancefloor-ready jams like “Cocaine Catwalk,” Muthaland is a tour-de-force by one of rap’s singular voices, and if she’s really finished with music as she’s claimed (rappers never really retire, but Mutha has indicated she wants to focus full time on her Apothecary), the game will greatly miss her incisive punchlines and crudely empowering perspective.

8. Westerman - Your Hero Is Not Dead: In 2020, Mid-’80s sophistipop grew into one of my favorite comfort foods. Westerman’s Your Hero Is Not Dead struck me directly in the sophistipop sweet spot, evoking the attention-to-detail and synth-heavy craftsmanship of that era and pairing it with harmonic complexity and a piercing emotionalism that recalls his idol Neil Young. On songs like “Blue Comanche” and “The Line,” Westerman constructs tales as twisty as his melodies, economically exploring how people relate to each other at the beginning and end of romantic relationships. Westerman complements his tasteful palette of synth sounds with intricate and lyrical guitar playing, most notably on the sighing, gorgeous instrumental “Float Over,” which softly segues into the title track to end the album on a gently-rising high note.

7. WizKid - Made In Lagos: The focal point of the sub-Saharan Afrobeats renaissance, Lagos is having one of the most exciting musical moments of any city since Kingston in the early ‘70s. WizKid is one of the scene’s biggest stars, with an ability to combine the sonic tapestry of his hometown with Caribbean-influenced beats and vocal styles. Made In Lagos is a masterwork of sound design, bringing creamy bass, chicken-scratch speckles of guitar, tasteful interjections of saxophone and brass, and an intoxicating mix of acoustic and electronic percussion, all offered in service to an immaculate vibe that matches the album cover’s shiny, monochromatic color scheme. Made with lockdown in mind, the album eschews uptempo dancefloor workouts in favor of stress-relief and romance. WizKid plays the perfect host, tamping down his melodic flights of fancy and embracing a song-serving smoothness. He’s a warm and inviting presence throughout, laying out the red carpet for a cross-continental cast of collaborators like H.E.R., Skepta, Burna Boy, and Damian Marley. The result is a truly global pop masterpiece, capable of brightening even the dourest day of a miserable year.

6. Ka - Descendants of Cain: Firefighter by day and rapper/producer by night, Ka is a master of allusion. He organizes his thoughts into themed collections of metaphor, illustrating the bleak realities of street life with gnomic symbolism. On Descendants Of Cain, Ka’s strongest work to date, the enigmatic rapper expresses himself through a litany of biblical references, drawing parallels between ancient parables (he goes far deeper than the Cain/’caine double entendre that rappers have been using for decades) and the stark code of morality with which he lives his life. The 48-year-old hermit produced the project himself, creating an immersive sonic realm, crafting expansive, noir-ish backing tracks populated by late-night saxophones, sparkling pianos, and the occasional shot of sweeping strings. Once again, Ka’s music comes almost entirely without drums (certainly without “beats” in the traditional hip-hop sense–every once in a while, he adds an open hi-hat or a subdued shaker), the artist preferring to let his music swirl around his half-whispered words of wisdom. The album ends on a tearful, sentimental note with “I Love (Mimi, Moms, Kev),” in which the artist ditches the biblical lyrical conceit and expresses his love for his wife, his mom, and his best friend atop light percussion and a warm soul sample.

5. SAULT - Untitled (Rise): Rise is the second part of a diptych that SAULT recorded in response to the movement that exploded in the wake of George Floyd’s death. Black Is, the first part, is a great album (you’ll find it in the lower reaches of my 2020 list), but the mysterious UK collective fulfilled their immense potential with Rise, a propulsive, powerful, and danceable album that doubles as a thought-provoking examination of the nature of freedom and liberation. The album tackles weighty topics–police violence, fake-woke “allies,” protest, cultural appropriation–but handles them with an inspiring effervescence and a propulsion meant to usher right-thinking people into the streets. The music itself is an intoxicating marvel, combining elements from every trendy musical movement from the early ‘80s (post-disco, post-punk, house, hip-hop, whatever the hell ESG was) into a percussive and surprisingly cohesive cocktail. The album immediately makes its greatness known with its first four songs, one of the strongest opening runs of any album in recent memory: the swaggering, funky, keep-your-head-up anthem “Strong,” which features a drum solo from SAULT architect Inflo, the soaring, club-ready vamp “Fearless,” concept-establishing, string-heavy interlude “Rise,” and especially “I Just Want to Dance,” the best song ESG never wrote.

4. Fiona Apple - Fetch The Bolt Cutters: Fetch The Bolt Cutters arrived with the kind of universal acclaim that can make some people suspicious. The Pitchfork review got a lot of attention, not just for its perfect score but for its bold statement that “no music has ever sounded quite like it.”

That statement might’ve been slightly hyperbolic. Fetch The Bolt Cutters has the kind of propulsive left-hand piano figures, chest-thumping percussion, and impassioned vocal performances that we haven’t heard since...the last Fiona Apple album. But the album deserves its experimental reputation. These songs mess around with song structure and melody in ways that resemble avant-garde singers like Meredith Monk, use overlapping vocals that occasionally evoke the works of post-modern composers like Luciano Berio, and echoing modernist composers like Edgard Varese in the way she wrings pathos out of rhythmic elements.

Though Fetch might be a slight step down from The Idler Wheel, it’s an invigorating listen, packed with the soul-baring confessionals that only Fiona is capable of executing. Combining literary wordplay with plainspoken directness, Fiona forces the listener to confront her trauma and contemplate her diagnoses of patriarchal ills. The songs are uniformly excellent–especially opener “I Want You To Love Me,” the most “traditional” song on the record, and “Shameika,” a burrowing childhood rumination with a happy ending–but Fetch The Bolt Cutters stands out to me as a collection of amazing moments: when the jig-like “For Her” fades into an unforgettably painful cadence (“Good mornin’, good mornin’/You raped me in the same bed your daughter was born in”), Fiona’s ground-shaking vocal intensity at the end of “Newspaper,” her dogs howling over the outro of “Fetch The Bolt Cutters,” the winking repetition of the title phrase on “Ladies.” Her albums display more than enough ambition to forgive the long gestation periods, but hopefully we won’t have to wait another 8 years for Fiona to bare her soul once again.

3. Drakeo The Ruler - Thank You For Using GTL: Embroiled in a Kafkaesque legal saga that shines a light on the worst aspects of our horrendous justice system, Drakeo The Ruler spent more than three years wrongly incarcerated for a crime he not only did not commit, but for which he was acquitted (for more info on Drakeo’s ordeal, read Jeff Weiss). He’s now mercifully a free man, mostly due to the work of his lawyer, but at least partially because of publicity generated by Thank You For Using GTL. Recorded over the phone from prison during the height of the pandemic, it’s a miracle that an album created under such sub-optimal conditions sounds as excellent as it does, but credit producer JoogSzn–who not only supplied the creeping, head-nodding backing tracks but recorded Drakeo’s phoned-in vocals–and engineer MixedByNavin for the project’s astonishing fidelity. Drakeo and Joog spent hours on the phone to record the album, in the process paying thousands of dollars to GTL, the predatory telecom company of choice for the L.A. corrections system, whose mechanical interjections serve as a constant reminder of the injustice that made the album necessary. Of course, a good story is a good story, but that alone doesn’t get an album on 2020’s most prestigious Best Albums list (mine). It’s a classic rap album, perhaps the best ever released by an incarcerated rapper, and a thumb directly in the nose of the D.A. and the LAPD. The album is a lyrical marvel, packed with winding wordplay and outlandish flexes, as Mr. Mosley takes aim at 6ix9ine, cackles at sorry-ass Instagram haters, and sneers at American-made cars (“To be honest, a Hellcat isn’t a foreign”). Each song has a carefully considered concept, the rapper’s punchlines building upon one another to make an airtight case for his status as L.A.’s top dog. He contrasts his own whip-crashing lifestyle with flashy wannabes on “GTA VI” and “Backflip or Sumn,” mourns a favorite department store on “RIP Barneys,” and proves he still doesn’t rap beef on “Maestro’s Tension.” The album’s masterstroke comes with “Fictional,” the final track, in which Drakeo exposes the prosecution’s use of his lyrics as evidence in criminal proceedings as the farce it is: “It might sound real, but it’s fictional/I love that my imagination gets to you.” Drakeo’s story was a rare bright spot in 2020, and a rare one with a happy ending. Just last week, the rapper released Because Y’All Asked, a studio-recorded version of Thank You For Using GTL, giving the album’s songs the clarity they deserve. But I think I’ll mostly return to the original, which will live on as an excellent album and a vital document of post-George Floyd America.

2. Pa Salieu - Send Them to Coventry: Hailing from the middle of nowhere–or, more accurately city in the English Midlands only known in the states for its middling Premier League team–Gambian-British artist Pa Salieu served up the most distinctive, visceral, and daring rap debut of the year. His style fuses elements of grime, drill, afro-trap, dancehall, and the darker edges of U.S. hip-hop into a percussive slurry, injected with the urgency of his struggle to survive. The magic of the album comes from the way Pa’s fluid flows interact with the shimmering and foreboding production (Felix Joseph and Aod lead the cast of the project’s sound architects), which is perfectly suited for cold city nights. He slips effortlessly into the pocket, toe-tagging the beats with a combination of aggression and trance-like meditation and uttering casually powerful pronouncements (“I'd make a killa riddim offa any riddim/The grind can never stop 'til I'm wrapped in linen”) that make you believe he’s Britain’s next great rapper. Pa keeps the vibe consistent throughout, but the moments that stand out are the moments when he locks into an unbreakable groove over no-frills production, like on singles “Block Boy,” “Betty,” and “B***K.” The artist’s wry sense of humor and brash confidence keeps the album from feeling bleak, but Send Them To Coventry wisely ends on “Energy,” a warm and bright ode to keeping your creative spark safe from the prying forces of fame and fortune.

1. Kassa Overall - I Think I’m Good: “I think I’m good”–a phrase that’s ran through my head throughout this shitstorm of a year. Sure, I postponed a wedding, cancelled trips, and saw my friends and family much less often than I would like, but I count myself among the lucky ones. Still breathing, still sane. Though it was recorded and released before the pandemic started, Kassa Overall’s I Think I’m Good became a lodestar of sorts for me. It’s a brilliantly introspective and deeply personal album about existing in enclosed spaces–whether a jail cell, an NYC subway car, or the inescapable prison of your own body.

Kassa Overall made his name as a jazz drummer, touring with icons like Geri Allen, but his solo music incorporates elements of hip-hop, classical, and trap to create a wholly original milieu. The album features contributions from over 30 accomplished voices, ranging from luminary Vijay Iyer, to Kassa’s saxophonist brother Carlos Overall, to virtuosic pianist Sullivan Fortner, to venerated activist Angela Davis. But all the disparate elements come together in service of Kassa’s deeply personal and engrossing vision.

Taking partial inspiration from Kassa’s struggle with manic depression, the music fluctuates between meditative calm and unbearable tension, mimicking the patter of an unquiet mind. Album opener “Visible Walls,” is a mesmerizing prayer for salvation soundtracked by fluttering harps, piercing woodwinds, and heartbeat percussion. “Find Me” buries a plea for help within a cacophony of sampled voices and rattling piano notes. Fortner’s piano guides us through the hauntingly devastating “Halfway House” and the Chopin-indebted “Darkness In Mind,” each highlighting a different stage of grief (despair and acceptance, respectively). The arc of I Think I’m Good concludes with the hopeful “Got Me A Plan” and “Was She Happy (For Geri Allen),” a Vijay Iyer-assisted tribute to his late friend and mentor.

It’s ironic that an album that so deeply explores the feeling of isolation vibrates with such a collaborative spirit. I Think I’m Good feels like an answered prayer–a community coming together to check on a beloved friend who’s gone through a tough time: “You good, man?” “I think so.”

Here’s the rest of my list.

11. Yves Tumor - Heaven To A Tortured Mind 12. Shackleton & Waclaw Zimpel - Primal Forms 13. Bob Dylan - Rough & Rowdy Ways 14. Duval Timothy - Help 15. Lil Uzi Vert - Eternal Atake 16. Moodymann - Taken Away 17. Secret Drum Band - Chuva 18. J Hus - Big Conspiracy 19. Headie One & Fred Again - GANG 20. Tiwa Savage - Celia 21. Andras - Joyful 22. Bill Callahan - Gold Record 23. King Von - Welcome To O’Block 24. Flo Milli - Ho, Why Is You Here? 25. Chubby & The Gang - Speed Kills 26. Madeline Kenney - Sucker’s Lunch 27. Empty Country - Empty Country 28. Smino - She Already Decided 29. Destroyer - Have We Met 30. Yves Jarvis - Sundry Rock Song Stock 31. Ela Minus - Acts Of Rebellion 32. Creeper - Sex, Death & The Infinite Void 33. Alabaster DePlume - To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals, Vol. 1 34. Good Sad Happy Bad - Shades 35. The 1975 - Notes On a Conditional Form 36. Kate NV - Room For The Moon 37. $ilkmoney - Attack of the Future Shocked, Flesh Covered, Meatbags of the 85 38. Eddie Chacon - Pleasure, Joy and Happiness 39. Kenny Segal & Serengeti - Ajai 40. Bad Bunny - YHLQMDLG 41. Kahlil Blu - DOG 42. Califone - Echo Mine 43. Boldy James - The Price of Tea in China/Manger On McNichols/The Versace Tape 44. Bufiman - Albumsi 45. Moses Boyd - Dark Matter 46. Thanya Iyer - KIND 47. Jyoti - Mama You Can Bet! 48. Obongjayar - Which Way Is Forward? 49. Rio Da Yung OG - City On My Back 50. Young Jesus - Welcome To Conceptual Beach 51. Owen Pallett - Island 52. Oceanator - Things I Never Said 53. Shootergang Kony - Red Paint Reverend 54. Shabason, Krgovich & Harris - Philadelphia 55. Six Organs of Admittance - Companion Rises 56. Lido Pimienta - Miss Colombia 57. Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song 58. Polo G - The GOAT 59. Actress - Karma & Desire 60. Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher 61. Porridge Radio - Every Bad 62. Yg Teck - Eyes Won’t Close 63. Mozzy - Beyond Bulletproof 64. Ratboys - Printer’s Devil 65. R.A.P. Ferreira - Purple Moonlight Pages 66. Ulver - Flowers of Evil 67. Rina Sawayama - SAWAYAMA 68. SAULT - Untitled (Black Is) 69. Ezra Feinberg - Recumbent Speech 70. Davido - A Better Time 71. Hailu Mergia - Yene Mircha 72. HAIM - Women In Music Pt. III 73. Half Waif - The Caretaker 74. Key Glock - Yellow Tape 75. KeiyAa - Forever Your Girl

#kassa overall #pa salieu #drakeo the ruler #fiona apple #sault #ka #wizkid #westerman #playboi carti #bbymutha

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dmnfox · 5 years ago

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{Here’s a taste of the comic I’m working on. Enjoy.} Dawn.

Another morning to wake up in a cold lonely bed. It wasn't always like this. Waking up to a warm loving partner -his arms would always hold her so close to make sure she was safe and state that she was his. The deep growl in his throat from the air he inhaled and exhaled was like music to her ears whilst her head laid upon his expanding chest. The heart beat that sang along with the music was always something she looked forward to when waking up.

"Stacy." called out a voice.

"I'm up, I'm up." She sighs.

Stacy sits up to the sound of her sister and walks out of her room. Her hair is a mess and she looks as though she hadn't gotten proper sleep. Opening the door there are empty whiskey bottles and one half drank from the night before.

"Yes, little sister, how can I help you this fine morning?"

"I'm going to be gone for a couple days, can you please. Please. Stop moping in bed, take care of YOUR kids, and help clean this apartment while I'm away. This whole....scenario you put yourself in, needs to stop. My niece and nephew need their mother. Not just their aunt."

Stacy lets out an annoyed sigh as her sister continues ranting over her. Finally she had enough to listen to and rolls her eyes.

"Fine. I'll get cleaned up and.. Do what I can."

"Not just what you can. Do what needs to get done. You left HIM. You shouldn't even be sobbing over that... loser of a man."

What does she know. She hadn't fallen in love once and just cared about money. Finally, Stacy's sister packs up her bags and leaves to God knows where. Maybe she just needed a vacation from babysitting all the time while Stacy was out of commission to take care of her kids. She isn't wrong though. It was her decision to leave him. Left him because he couldn't even take care of his family and chased a dream that wasn't earning them support. All that exhaustion from fighting just to get him to understand that he should have been working a real job just to take care of his family.

A quick look in the mirror and she's just at fault. She hadn't been there for her kids in almost 2 years. That's not fair to them to lose their father and mother like this. Stacy sets her mind to getting herself cleaned up and into some clean clothes, kicking herself into motivation.

"Ok. Good first step. Let's check on the little ones." She smiles.

It feels like she had been gone for far too long as if returning from her travels where they were out of her reach. She walks upstairs to the lone room where they sleep. She hears giggling. Her heart warms up and she peeks the door open to see them playing with their toys.

"Morning, you two" She sang.

The kids shot up in excitement to see that their mother is doing better.

"Mom!" They both shout and run with a wide open hug to embrace their mother once more. Stacy tears up with joy and feels happy they missed her but sorry for not being around when they needed her.

"Are you feeling better mommy?" the little girl asked with worry.

"I'm feeling much better, darlings. Much much better. I think it's time to get you both ready for school but after school, what do you say we go out for ice cream? A nice treat to make up for me not being around."

"Okay!" They cheered and ran over to grab their backpacks, grab their lunch boxes, and hand them over to get packed for the day.

Stacy had gone to the kitchen to fix up some sandwiches, put grapes in baggies, and pack them all in the lunchboxes along with their favorite juice. All set and they stand at the door awaiting for their kisses goodbye. Her son, however, seeming a little sad.

"Hunter? What's wrong sweetie?"

"I really miss dad.."

"Me too.." the little girl interrupts.

Stacy sighs seeing her kids so heart broken and honestly she misses him too. He may not have been the greatest in supporting them but he was a wonderful father and loving husband. Having each other shouldn't that have been enough?

"I know, darlings.. But this is for the best.."

The children don't answer after that. They take their lunch boxes in silence and leave before they miss their bus leaving Stacy alone in the apartment. Her sigh breaks the silence and she brushes her fingers through her hair pulling it back into a pony tail. She can't lose this motivation now. She has to get better. For them.

Stacy makes her way back to the kitchen to get it cleaned, then came the vacuuming for the carpet, then clearing out some boxes that are in the way. She wiped down the bookshelf that was covered in dust to stack her packed cook books, collected articles, and some romance novels. The last book caught her attention. Her wedding album. Her heart began to race to the sight of it. She couldn't tell if this was her guilty conscience speaking or the love that never left. She sits down at the couch giving the front cover a long look. "Two halves of a heart finally one" it said on the cover.

She bites her lip and finally flips the heavy cover open. It had it all. From the walkway to the altar, from the church to the after party, all adding up to their honeymoon. Each one carried a bright smile that no darkness could hide. It made Stacy smile and hurt all at once. She couldn't help but feel it was all her fault.

"Why did I do this to them?" Her broken voice let out. "All because finance was the upmost importance, did it have to end this way?"

It's at this point tears begin to stream down her face. No matter how many times she wiped her eyes more just seem to escape through her fingers. She gave out a few sniffles before looking over at another opened box. How ironic. It was the box that carried her jewelry with her wedding band inside. As if she needed more of a push in this stressful pressure. She couldn't stand it, it's at this point she's boiling over.

"I have to talk to him. I have to make things right."

Stacy has made up her mind. This whole thing was a mistake and she should have known once she had picked up the first whiskey bottle after her divorce papers were approved. She never thought he would sign them. She had hoped that he had fought harder for them even after his incident. He almost died because of her and her fear just kept her away from him. All she could think of was how she could have put on her 'big boy pants' and walked in that recovery room to give him a piece of her mind for how stupid he was to pull such foolish actions. It tore her apart knowing that he was in his death bed.

Fighting hesitation, Stacy finally pulls through and grabs her phone. She reads over her horrid half ass written replies. She takes a breath and begins her text-

"Chase, I can't do this anymore I -

"Chase,

"Chase, the kids miss you. I'm willing to let you come over to spend time with them. It would really make our

It would really make their day. They get back around 4pm. Don't be late.

I lov

"Chase, the kids miss you. I'm willing to let you come over to spend time with them. It would really make their day. They get back around 4pm. Don't be late.

See you soon."

-send-

She lets out a heavy sigh now thinking 'this was such a bad idea'. After everything why would he want to go anywhere near her, she thought to herself. Her hands now cupped to her face unable to delete the message before he could see it.

Ting- her notification went off. The sound made her heart sink to the pit of her stomach.

"I'll come over sooner than 4! It'll be such a great surprise for them! Thank you, babe! Omw!"

"Babe.." She read out loud. Her worry suddenly got waved over with some gentle laughs and a smile upon seeing that part of the text. She told him never to call her that again, but this time she's overjoyed to see that he hasn't stopped. Now it is absolute that she has to get everything straightened up. She finished up with the rest of the boxes giving some a quick glance while putting the valuables properly away.

"Now to clean up my bedr-"

CRASH!

Stacy jumps to the sudden unexpected sound. It came from down the hall. Her room. After a few steps to inspect the noise she stops dead in her tracks. Something doesn't feel right. Everything in her gut is telling her to be cautious but she doesn't know why. She's sure she's alone in the apartment. Maybe it was a box that wasn't sat up right in the room.

"H-hello?"

The hall seems much darker than the usual. She could have sworn she left the blinds opened in the rooms to light up the apartment. It's no where close to dusk, why is it so dark?

"Is someone there?" Stacy starts to think she's just overreacting to something that was probably just a natural cause. She starts to relax and walk towards the sound after allowing the silence to verify she was alone. Upon entering the room it looks as though nothing fell over. She reopened the blinds to get a better look -reviewing the room top to bottom. Nothing fell over and she becomes even more confused. She shrugs it off and grabs a trash bag to collect the bottles that she had piled in her room and sits them down to throw them later. She doesn't want to risk Chase catching her in the act of her crimes. She smiles seeing that everything is turning for the better and hopefully her and Chase can make a compromise when he comes over.

Ting- Chase had messaged her again.

Hearing her phone go off she rolls her eyes with a smile wondering what the message says now. He better not be cancelling and chickened out. She turns to exit the room.

CLACK!

She stops right at the door frame. The blinds have shut rapidly putting Stacy back in darkness. She's stuck in place. Too scared to turn. Too scared to move. It's till she felt a cold breath graze at the back of her neck and the strands of her hair brushing loosely against her skin. Shaking, she slowly turns her head seeing an outline of someone right at her back -but it wasn't human. The green glow of its eyes made that perfectly clear to her. It mimicked the face of her ex-husband and she was in pure shock.

Finally, Stacy falls back dragging herself away from this creature trying to let out a scream but the shock has her stuttering.

It takes a step closer, and that alone made Stacy shoot back up on her feet to run but she wasn't fast enough. Its hand caught her from behind, covering over her mouth tightly keeping her in place. She can feel its nails pressing against her cheek while she lets out a whimper followed by muffled pleas. Suddenly, her words couldn't leave her lips. A swift swipe across her throat, and she's reaching for her neck as she struggles to breathe. Her muscles in her throat push up an iron taste to her tongue and she can't hold it in her mouth -the red fluid drips out and down her chin.

The creature lets her go with no care of letting Stacy fall on the floor, bleeding out pathetically at its feet. She crawls for her phone trying to reach for help but is forced onto her back, facing the creature once more. She stares in fear till her twitching body finally lets go and her eyes go dim.

***

Slam.

The car door could give him away easily to announce his arrival. Chase had straightened himself up and had bought Stacy's favorite flowers. One of the things that made him late aside from practicing in his car for 30 minutes on how to talk to his ex-wife after a year and a half. He's nervous like a child going on their first loop on a roller coaster. That argument of 'you can do it' 'no I can't' looping over and over in his head. He's here now and there is no turning back. Chase takes a breath and proceeds to take the stairs till he reaches the floor of Stacy's sister's apartment.

"Ok. Ok.. Here we go.. You can do this, Chase.. Win her back.."

Knock Kno- creeeeek

The door opened. Chase's face immediately furrows with confused. That's not normal, maybe the kids didn't latch the door properly when entering. He pushes the door to further open it, finding it dark inside.

"Stacy? Stacy I'm here." He calls out to her.

Chase doesn't hear anyone answer to him but the deafening sounds of silence. He decides to walk inside and sit his stuff down on the counter. At the corner of his eye he spots a red puddle soaked into the carpet. He felt cold and the color drains from his face once he saw it. He gulps hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was, but to his horror his hope was immediately shattered once he saw Stacy lying lifeless on the floor.

"STACY!!!" He hurries to her side even though it was too late. "Oh God.. No..NO!!" He cries.

Uncontrollable tears pour down his face. Chase holds her tightly rocking back and forth -not giving a damn of getting blood all over him. This had to be a nightmare, a glimpse of his own personal hell, karma striking him where it hurt most.

"AAAAH!"

"Dawn?" Chase snaps out of his grief after hearing his little girl scream. "KIDS!!"

He lays his deceased love down and hurriedly gets himself part way up the stairs to reach his kids.

"Shit.. It's dark.."

He pulls out a lighter and treads carefully not knowing if this monster could be waiting for him around the corner. Chase finally reaches the top, a red light illuminating out of the kids room. He focus' on the figure that stands in the middle of the door way. Chase is struck once he sees its face and its devilish grin.

"Wh-Where are they?! What do you want from me?!!"

̴ͤ̽ͯͤ̈҉̛̟͓̻ ̘̇̋͆͠ ̶̧̦̭͓͇̱̹̮̏ ̯̩͉̻͑̇ͥ̅̽ͨ́͟ ̿̓ͧͭͫ̍̔̎͏̵̢̱̻ ̲̭̝̺ͣ͑̔͂ͮ̀̕͞ ̼̗̦̭̿ͦͧ̈̾͠ͅ ͈͔͕̖̈̆ ̷̟̹̥̱̟̅̾̀͢ ͓̫̣̲̯͆ͤͩ̂͡ ͤ̈́͋͆ͬ̚͏͏̯̺̫͈̖ ̦̲͚͕͚͗̌̒ͭͤ̍̕ ̸̡̙̱̽ͥͯ̑ ̵͙͇͚͎̳̗̥̮̈͑͗ͧ ̸̬̘́̆ͩͭ̕͡ ͕͖͍̖̖̖̤̝̰ͩͫͬͨ̒̄̆͞ ̣͇̙͇̹ͮ̎ͫ̉ͨ͂̓͝ ̷̲̰̺̞̼̙͍̙̪ͤͮ͊̏ ̛͓̝̮̼͇͉͕̼̾͑̃̇̇ͥ̀ ̸̦̟̟͈͖͉̭͐̑́ ̷͔̫̭͈̾ͨͬ̾ͨ̅̏͒̚ ̻̫̗̟̲̣̺̓ͮ́ͫ͜ ̨ͭ͋̀҉̙͖ ̶̷̦̬̥͕̗̠̞̈́ͯ͑͗̃́͑ ̖̫̝̖ͧ̔̒̅͆̀ͅ ̧͍̥̲̤̼̾͊̍͜ ̨͇̘̠ͫ͗͐̊ ̸̍͋ͯ̅ͩ͏͚̹͕͎̭̦͎̞ ̻͙̿ ̶̛̫ͤ̄͆̅ͤ̄̾̎ ̨̛̹̾̏͒͟ ̏͟͏̦̪͙ ͚̗̩̙͚̱ͨ̉ͣ̑ͪ̀̕͡ ͕̬̙̜̦͔̖ͮ͆ͩ̎͟ͅ ̮̯̜͙͚̄̌͌ͮ͘ ̺͇̲̤̊͆͛̇̉̐̉͌͟͟ ̬̩̀̏̂̄ͭ̚͟ ̷͍̲̱̈́̃ͣ̓̈̐͗ ̴̢̧͉̭̏̃̀̑ͦ̉ ̸̦͇̻̜̗̪͕̗̻ͬͭ̀̍̽̏̅ͣ͟ ̶̯̪̠̫͌͂͆͘ ̨̓̐ͣ̋̔̕҉̗̮̞̘̦͚ ̷͍͇̩͖̳̠͔̬̥̽͒̿̓̓̆̏ ̷͖̖̬͕̳̹͕ͤ̊̃ͩ̿͆̉ͮ̄ ̌̓̃ͫ͂҉̨̜̙̘̝͈̯͔ ̸͆̀͏͚͙͇̫̫ ̴̦̪̗̮͚̈͆̂̃͆͑̃́͜ ̫͖̼̅ ̯͇̟͙̉ ͯͯ̏ͤͨ̈҉̠̝͖ ̖̳̖̼ͫͪ̅ͬ͒ ͙̲̠̝̹̎͂̓̌ ̇��̈́̄̉́̅͂̕҉̘̺̬̬ ̶̗͎̭̤͖̺͉ͮͅ ̸̞̞̭̜̖̹̎̐̉̊̿ͩ̑̿ͦ ̋̿ͨ͏̬̺̥͎̣̦͢ ̨̥̜̘͔̖̲͍͔̉ͦͥ̃͘ ̸̶̬̟̩͈͈̳͎̟͛͗ ̴̢̭̬̼͖̗͍̬ͬͯͤͭ̐̽͗̌ ̱̫̦̲̫̥̅͛̊͊̔̾̊ͅ ͙͇͔̞̂̂̊̿͞͡ ͓̹͕̼̌̀͞ ̷̸̢͙̟̳̘̖̟͙͊̃̿ͯ̎̋̓̇ ̨̰̏ ̧͎̤͈̟̫̟ͣ̄̌͂͐͐͘͢ͅ ̢͇̫̪̲͙̣̝̤͓ͣͬ͋̚͡ ̧͎͖̞͓̯͕̙̱ͬͣ͑̈ͯ͋ͦ́̚͘ ͇̰͈͕̣̥̈ͥ͒̔ͤ͗ ͇̺ͤ͊̿ ̻̗̜̦͖ͬ̈́̀̚ ̿͌ͭ͂̀҉̢͕̙̝̤͚͖ ̵̙̹̳͖̘̾ͤ̎͝ ̈́̽̂ͨ̈́͛ͯ̓҉̳͓͖̱̗̫͠ ̎ͯ͆̀͐͜҉͎͙̟̖̻̀

#Anonymous #Fanfic #coming soon #Chase Brody #Jacksepticeye #Antisepticeye #tw blood #tw alcohol #jse community #wip fancomic #DMNfox

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secretradiobrooklyn · 4 years ago

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SECRET RADIO | 9.26.20

Secret Radio | 9.26.20 | Hear it here.

“We don’t know where you are but we’re glad you’re here”

Liner notes by Evan, except * means Paige

1. Ayalew Mesfin - “Hasabe (My Worries)”

This track comes to us via Marc Hawthorne in San Francisco and is some hot Ethiopian stomp. Marc has been turning me on to crucial music for years, but I feel like both of our palates have expanded in unexpected directions lately. I love how foreign and how relatable this song sounds at once — “hasabe” really does sound like a guy singing about his worries, which makes it feel like he’s speaking the same language.

2. Witch - “Introduction”

Such a commandingly hip voice announcing the band and getting us all in the groove. Witch is Zambian rock in a pretty unhinged style — apparently WITCH stands for “We Intend To Create Havoc,” which if true is basically the greatest band name ever.

3. Erkin Koray - “Cemelim”

Every time I hear this track I think of Jefferson Airplane’s foreboding sense of dark anticipation. The added frills of shifting into Turkish bent-note vocals takes it up another level. This track is from 1974 but carries the whole psychedelic ‘60s wave forward in an unbroken wave. As we mentioned, the video is worth checking out not just because the singer/guitarist is mesmerizing or because the bassist is inherently hilarious but because their outfits are legendary. Our thanks to Brian and Mona for the heads up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-k_Fr67bPQ

4. The Velvet Underground - “Coney Island Steeplechase”

“Lies and betrayals / fruit-covered nails” — naw, just kiddin, this song happens long before Pavement, or the Strokes for that matter. I never really understood what people meant when they said that the Strokes sound like VU, but listening to this song in headphones it kinda feels like the Julian Casablancas built an entire career off Lou’s vocal delivery on this song. And who could blame him? Lou wasn’t usin it anymore.

Hailu Mergia - “Sintayehu”

We got this record during the pandemic and it has been like a stress dissolver. There’s a tape that we got in Manhattan Kansas at a house show we played, a band called Casino Gardens, that I think of every time we hear this album. Not the same in particulars, but very much the same in spirit.

5. Divino Niño - “Melty Caramelo”

One of Sleepy Kitty’s first tours was with Divino Niño (thanks, Brandon!) just as they were assembling, and they have always been a band of fellows we enjoy as much as the music that they write. I did this set of dates with a broken bone in my swole-up, purple right hand, which I wouldn’t recommend to any drummers out there. I will say though that every single drummer in the bar that night told me that they had broken the same exact bone the same way. Not by drumming but by punching an inanimate object.

6. Moodoïd - “Je suis la montagne”

I think this song is a benefit of Paige learning French for the last couple of years. Found it on a 3.5 hour French mix on Spotify.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCuthCn8zxs

7. Sleepy Kitty - “Dreaming of Waterfalls” demo *

There are like, 7 people who have heard this song until now. This song came pretty mysteriously to me after a completely transformative trip to Kauaʻi for the wedding of ace folks and dear friends Stewart and Trenton. People who have gone to Hawaiʻi have always told me how amazing Hawaiʻi is and how it’ll change your life and it’s the best place in the entire world, and I was always like, “ok, sure whatever” until we went and now I am forever changed. I won’t get too into it here, but it’s all totally true and as amazing as they say. I can’t remember if this song was literally in the dream I had in San Diego the night we returned to the contiguous 48, or if it somehow emerged out of thinking of that dream, but it basically just appeared and I thought about it and thought about it and kept it in my head the whole plane ride back to St. Louis and recorded it pretty much immediately when we got back. I played 2 songs at our friends’ wedding on uke (where I was relieved to get approval from the Hawaiian family, ha ha) and it’s still a very unfamiliar instrument to me but it was the only answer for this song.

This is also one of a few recordings I made shortly before the first of 2 vocal surgeries around that time. It was kind of a stressful time musically; I was still figuring out what was going on, knowing something was wrong, getting hoarse all the time but not knowing what was going on yet. Learning the songs for the wedding, and this song and this recording are positive memories in what was a very uncertain period in Sleepy Kitty life. I can definitely remember the challenges and limitations of that time, but it’s great to have this beautiful little moment that came out of that time too. When I hear this now, I like it and I’m glad to have it. It transports me back to that magical place and I’m thankful to Stewart and Trenton for having us there to celebrate with them.

8. The Fall - “Arms Control Poseur” (Bonus Version) (whatever that means)

“What do you fear?”

“Being found out.”

“The why do you always give yourself away?”

After initially being repulsed by The Fall, I eventually had what felt like essentially a religious experience after falling asleep listening to them on repeat in the tour bus — somehow their perverse aesthetic had become grafted into my DNA. I became an avid proselytizer for the band, with few takers, for years. Eventually I kind of gave up, baffled both by how intensely I felt their music and how immune everyone else apparently was to it.

Cut to years later in an apartment on North Ave in Chicago, watching Paige bike up the street towards the window where I stood. She apologized as she walked her bike up the stairs. Sorry I’m late, she said, I just got caught up in the Fall. I don’t know how to explain it. You don’t understand, The Fall is not like other bands.

I literally thought that she was teasing me, and that I must have talked her ear off about the band at some point. But NO — she’d had the exact sort of conversion experience as me. In her case it was to “Extricate,” which was one of my very favorite albums, being the second one I personally owned.

Still, this record’s aesthetic is completely dominant in my life. I couldn’t even guess how many times I’ve listened to it, and it still fascinates me every time.

“I quite very very much enjoyed

his jovial lies

lying”

9. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Wodeka Kpoe”

The day I found this track I was completely distracted by it. It’s so muscular and lean and intense. I love everything about the almost metallic drum sound, the dry vocals, the guitar telling its own narrative, the sharp little shaker going the whole time. It’s the closest thing to punk in Beninese music that I’ve heard. I read recently that this was on a 1983 Albarika Records comp LP (the person referred to the as “legendary,” but I don’t know to whom, or when), and when I looked it up a lot of other tracks that we love from the Soundway comp were there. But as far as I know, it’s not on any of those 21st century collections. So good!

10. Orchestre Abass - “Haka Dunia”

The cover of this 6-song burner shows a guy with a guitar behind a keyboard called TIGER 61, with his foot up on… what? the keys bench? There’s a single pedal on the floor that leads up into the keyboard. The sounds that come from that board though! This is a tone I think of as completely desirable. I guess this is also punk, this one from Togo. I mean, I have no idea what he/they think they’re doing, but to me it feels like it has all the stuff that I love in punk music.

Hailu Mergia

11. T.P. Orchestre de Cotonou Benin - “Moulon Devia”

I just realized this track can be found elsewhere, but I found it on a record credited to T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou Benin, with a great photo of Yehouessi Leopold and Zoundegnon Papillon Bernard on the cover looking like the coolest dudes in the world cos they are. There are some great stereo panning effects, no doubt done live, on the horns at the beginning and the keys solo in the middle, which really enriches the headphone experience. This keys solo uses a suite of sounds that I absolutely love from them — and which are apparently the work of Papillon himself! I knew he was the guitarist who builds sand castles in the air of T.P. songs, but I only just realized that he’s also the guy throwing down those supper trippy Farfisa sounds! Holy smokes, that’s just ridiculous. He and Yehouessi are probably my favorite rhythm combo ever. PLUS they’ve got Bentho Gustave on bass, whose T.P. album was the first one we bought abroad. I mean, this track is so epic.

12. Patrick Juvet - “Où sont les femmes”*

I have a new awesome French teacher, who sends me cabaret songs to check out and says things like “I’m an old queen! What am I to do!” He played this song over Zoom for some live hold music while I was printing something for a recent lesson. I’m excited to hopefully hear more French music from him and also to hear more of his stories of discotheques in the 80s.

Evan adds: The video is well worth your attention as well, especially if you like red sequins glinting disco diamonds beneath deeply feathered hair.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zqc7mVZQNFo

13. Le Tigre - “Deceptacon”

This is one of the all-time top art school party songs as far as I know. And why the hell not? It’s pure Olympia, and all the hooks line up all the way down.

I video that someone made for school has essentially become the official video of the song because it’s totally awesome and fits like a pure expression of the song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SyBR-M2YvU

14. Themne Song Track 1

I don’t know who performed this track or what it’s called — it’s just identified as “Themne Song Track 1,” Themne being the name of a tribe in Sierra Leone. I think it might be a “comedian story teller” called Miranda T Denkenneh, but can’t tell.

I’ve been into Janka Nabay and the Bubu Gang for a couple of years now. Nabay is a Sierra Leonan musician who came to NYC and put together a band of hip NY musicians who make this rhythmically complex yet somehow austere dance music that I find totally fascinating. Reading up on them, he was described as translating the music he came from into a more electric style. Well, it turns out that is indeed the case, based on this track from Sierra Leone. This sounds like Janka Nabay but warm and large where his music is focused and tight. I totally see both how damn danceable this Themne

One of my favorite things about discovering this song is: the notes on the YouTube track are exclusively from ex-pats loving music from home and the old days, calling out their tribe and checking in from wherever they are. One guy, Ibrahim Noah Koroma, writes from Senegal:

tears fall down in my eyes when I listing dis song missing u SL 🇸🇱🇸🇱💪💪💪 I'm proud of my tribe temne 💯💪💪💪

15. The Sugarcubes - “Regina”

The setup of this song is such an angular, proggy spiky comic thing, definitely cool in its own way, but man, when it hits the chorus, it’s absolutely the most gorgeous thing. The lyrics are truly bizarre, and they’re making me appreciate how this band impacted Bjork’s later work. One thing I don’t understand: does she pronounce “Regina” with a hard G because that’s how that word is pronounced in Icelandic? Or is that just something she does?

16. Gétatchèw Mèkurya - “Ambassèl”

The more we learn about Ethiopian jazz and popular music before and after their political strife, the more there is to learn. In fact, one thing I learned about Mèkurya is that he played with Dutch socialist punks The Ex, a band I have admired for a couple of decades now, though mostly because I’m stuck on their album “Scrabbling at the Lock.” They apparently toured together in the aughties… and all of a sudden I can hear how their very different sounds actually relate very aptly. Man. That’s enough to fall in love with music all over again.

Also, one fact that must be acknowledged: Gétatchèw is maybe the best first name ever.

17. Jacques Dutronc - “Et moi, et moi, et moi”

I just dropped these lyrics into Google translate and it turns out he’s got a very identifiable brand of humor — wry, confident, diffident. He always makes me think of Dylan with his delivery.

18. Meas Samon - “Jol Dondeung Kone Key (Going to Get Engaged)”

So much feel! Those key dives just to open the song, man, I don’t even know. And the vocals are spilling over with character — it’s like watching a movie unfold. This is Cambodian, from the late sixties or early seventies. Every time it gets to the keys solos I think about how much I want Dave Grelle to hear this track, like, right now. It’s between this and Abass for sickest keys distortion to be found.

19. T.P. Orchestre - “Senamin” *

What is up with this song? We came across it and kind of set it aside, and then it was just in my head all. the. time. At first I wasn’t sure about the 1996 movie version “I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You” style sax (my LEAST favorite song in Evita) But, even so this song is so...majestic! And mysterious! The haunting melodies dancing around together at the end really got me.

20. Hallelujah Chicken Run Band - “Alikilula”

The constant interaction of 3s and 4s in Chicken Run songs never fails to delight me. The shapes of the songs are almost like Guided By Voices tracks — one good idea perfectly expressed, and then they’re outta there.

21. Antoine Dougbé - “Nou Akuenon Hwlin Me Sin Koussio”

If I could pick one album for all of my friends to spin a few times in a row… that would not be easy. But lately, that record would be “Legends of Benin,” the totally headspinning comp put out by Analog Africa. Every track is a deep insight into what rock music can be. In the liner notes, Samy Ben Redjeb takes the listener on a whole record-buying expedition through the southern coast of west Africa, describing where he picked up particular LPs, falling into conversations with some of the musicians, and generally providing insights both romantic and invaluable. (His notes on Dougbé are worth the price of admission.) In one note he mentions talking to a friend about how Africa doesn’t seem to deal well in reggae, and he considers “Nou Akuenon” one of the best attempts on the continent. It hadn’t occurred to me to think of this as reggae… and I still don’t hear it that way. But I like thinking of the band reaching for reggae and making this instead.

22. Francoise Hardy - “Les temps de l’amour”

23. Ros Sereysothea - Chnam oun Dop-Pram Muy “I’m 16”

I love how fully developed these Cambodian songs are. They’re not aping a particular song or building replicas of songs in English or French: they’re working in pop music just like anyone else. The arrangements are so tight and well structured, and everybody is adding in more than their share on their instruments. Though Ros’s voice steals the show, the backing vocals on this song are especially good as well.

24. Aerovons - “Say Georgia”

Man, one of the pleasures of living in St. Louis was learning the story of The Aerovons, a group of high school kids who got flown across the Atlantic to record at Abbey Road with all of the same gear and technicians who were busy putting together records for The Beatles… only to have the album go unreleased for decades. It’s truly a reminder to appreciate the experience itself and not just the results. These guys experienced the absolute pinnacle of the studio recording dream — there is none higher — but that’s it. None of the fame or the attendant glory, just the knowledge of what they’d been able to do together.

“Texas Thunder Soul 1968-1974”

25. Ravi Shankar - Jazzmine - “Mishrank (Finale)”

The whole “Jazzmine” album is a mindblower, and it’s almost a shame to cut right to the finale of an album that builds its case song by song, illustrating the paths that Shankar’s raga and jazz take toward each other, from “Melodic Moods” to the amazing tabla solos of “Taalank” to “Deshank (Folk Patterns)” to crest with “Mishrank,” where Zep meets jazz club meets Somalian backroom in an Indian realm. Every solo brings a ton of new information about whose voices are adding to this total experience. And more than anything, it sounds like fun.

One thing I dig about this recording is that, as far as I can tell, more than one performance of this song is spliced together into this single track. That seems like a big no-no among jazz folks, but I really don’t mind it one bit — if anything, that helps me hear the song relative to more jarring experimental tape manipulation bands.

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cynjixiahh · 7 years ago

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‘DAZED’ Magazine DEAN INTERVIEW TRANSLATION

‘DAZED’ MAGAZINE (KOREA) 2017 October Issue

DEAN INTERVIEW - Translated by @cynjixiahh

Becoming the producer who nurtured the winner of SMTM6…

It is good now that it is finished. It was project which required much more time and effort than I thought. As much as that (much effort given), I feel good that it ended well and I also learned a lot from it. When the music made its appearance through this show, I came to know the influence of the small spool of threads when it is spread out. It has been a great time.

Whatever people say, you are now the hot issue of the public culture. Do you feel that?

Compare to the past, I do feel that more people came to know about the artist Dean; but I am not sure if I am the hot issue. It is just my life pattern. Committing to being a true musician and artist, and also being fitted with the seldomly used description ‘cool/stylish’ – Dean is really the charismatic brand. In my point of view, I consider all parts that I have participated is my music. Iconic figures like Frank Ocean, Kanye West, etc pay a lot of attention and care to their own art work or attitude, even to the car they ride on. And the picture of these stories (of the artists) has become something that the general public can also understand (that they can see ‘ah it is true’). From the stage lighting, the way of speaking, to the facial expression, I consider all these are my music. Rather than studying it, I’d like to express it naturally by putting my philosophy in it.

It seems like being natural is the core. What kind of personality does this natural Dean have?

I like fun and interesting things. I like to spend time with friends whose sense of humour and sensitivity are on the same wavelength as mine. I don’t like wandering around that much. Somehow, I think even talking with friends is one art work. And I mostly spend time like that.

Do you have that kind of crew?

It’s about 10 people.

If you go out once in a while, where do you usually go?

There is a bar near the studio. The boss’ selection of music is of great artisan spirit. I also have a lot of interest in art books, and the boss’ superb selection (of arts) satisfies me. I usually go there whenever I want to listen to new music.

Lately, among those who are in their 10s – 20s choose Dean as the stylish individual; with what in mind do you dress yourself?

Mainly the western culture leads the current fashion flow. I like eastern culture a lot, and in it there are affection and self-respect pride. It is not just our country but I want to show the oriental kind of vibe, and I also want to show the street elements that boarders enjoy.

If you go to the overseas’ famous fashion week, how do you think you will express yourself (in clothes)?

When I look at them, rather than going ‘oh that person is wearing something from the currently trendy brand..’, I like to mix and match vintage kind of clothing or outfits from the collection of the old days with the current stuff, reinterpret it and show to people the style of mine.

It is not very ordinary. Have you always been taking a liking in clothing (fashion)?

I have a lot interest in it and I also receive great inspiration from my stylist friend. The friends from my crew also like oriental kind of culture and fashion, so I think the colour comes into view even more.

You have taken the name Dean from James Dean, and from another interview that you said that you like the rebellious vibe in him. what is being rebellious that you mentioned?

I feel never ending wavering, and I have some severe ups and downs; many times I thought I had to stop. Without reasons, I would become melancholy. But when I look around, anyone can be like that. Also, I realised that being blunt/slow to react is death. To give example, grandpa bought clothes; in anyone’s eyes, there were noticeable small details on the clothes and grandpa was very impressed by it. Eventhough others may not know but didn’t grandpa even consider these details when buying the clothes? I think it is very important to see and feel the trivial things. Korean society likes the same familiar things and highly tend to be uncertain about things that they are not familiar with. I think being rebellious is to find things that are broken away from the same.

Through performances and such, Dean’s influence is neatly expanding.

By all means, I desire to have my productions to be published and to be acknowledged in the global market. And for that I have prepared detailed planning.

Out of all countries, where do you want to dominate at any cost? Do you have something like this in mind?

America. I am thinking if I capture America, then I can capture the world…isn’t it? It would be good if there are some unique characters in the American market. It is not about following others but it is more like ‘I don’t know who’s that but he is a bit different’. Fortunately, the perception of eastern culture is becoming better, I am thinking of ways/images where oriental vibe can be made used of to communicate.

As a musician, ultimately, what is the music that you are pursuing?

It is the music that has story. Since I was little, I have liked drawing. If my mother bought me a sketchbook, I would diligently draw and gave an explanation of a story to the drawing. I even wrote novel. I like to create story like that. My album, as a whole, is like a movie, there are introduction, development, turns and conclusion. It would be nice if the storytelling lingers within you after you listen to the album from the first track to the last track.

As Dean, what kind of independent value you want to have?

I want to show a lot of myself, whether it is to direct or through script writing to graft onto the movie. Fashion, music, art and so on may have different ways of expression, but I want to display emotions in many different spheres. When the public sees that art is not separated, they can easily say it is simply an expression one’s emotions. Sometimes art can be high-sounding and can be understood as something difficult, but it would be great if it can just be the model of the person who expresses his/her emotions. I don’t want to be limited in any genre.

It is (your) first fashion magazine cover.

It was fun. The ‘DAZED’ magazine, as a whole, is cool and I have wanted to collaborate. I like vintage check, and Burberry too, when I saw it overseas and as I was thinking “aahh Burberry can be worn like that too”, I wanted to reinterpret it. I am thankful for this opportunity given to me. It seems like time had flown while doing interesting work.

#Deantrbl #DEAN #DAZED #DAZED 2017 #딘 #권혁 #DAZED interview translation #kwon hyuk #DAZED MAGAZINE KOREA #DΞΔN #데이즈드 #dean interview #english translation #deanfluenza #DAZED KOREA #데이즈드코리아

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therecordchanger62279 · 1 year ago

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THE VINYL PRESS WISH LIST

I'm all for the return of vinyl records. I'm not crazy about the prices they're charging for them, but my biggest complaint is that record labels are not pressing the right titles. They're overlooking some of the best vinyl compilations ever made, and because of the passage of time, these are records that are not likely to see a reissue ever again. But all 10 of the titles here deserve another look.

The Very Best of Bird - Charlie Parker. A 2 record compilation of Parker's work for Dial Records. Warners issued it originally, and it was, and remains the best distillation of the music of the greatest genius in the history of Jazz. There are countless Parker collections and box sets. But this is the best of them all.

Winwood - Various Artists. Originally on United Artists, this 2 record set featured The Spencer Davis Group, Powerhouse, Blind Faith, and Traffic - all bands that featured Steve Winwood. It only goes as far as Traffic's first breakup, but track for track, it's perfect.

Directions & Circle In The Round - Miles Davis. When Miles Davis retired in the mid-70s, his record label, Columbia decided to raid the vaults for some records that would keep Miles's name out there in case he ever decided to un-retire. These two titles - both double albums - span Davis's first two decades with the label, and are the best overview of his most influential period.

Weird Scenes Inside The Goldmine - The Doors. The quintessential Doors on 2 records. It finally got a CD pressing a few years ago. So, I'm not sure the vinyl isn't out there now. But, if it is, it should never be allowed to go out of print.

Time Peace - The Rascals Greatest Hits. Atlantic's only mistake in issuing this was that it came a bit early. The band had a few more hits in them. There are other, generic looking Rascals collections out there, but this one - with its classic cartoon style cover needs a repress, and the four extra tracks that charted after it came out could be added.

The Road Goes On Forever - The Allman Brothers Band. If I had a dollar for every Allman Brothers Band collection out there, I'd be rich enough to afford to date Taylor Swift. But this 2 record set has all the essentials, and a gorgeous cover as well.

Purple Passages - Deep Purple. Warners issued this 2 record set when it obtained the rights to the three LPs the band cut for the Tetragrammaton label. They distilled the best of those three for this collection, and it's the perfect set to represent the band's early years. Cool cover art, too.

The History of Eric Clapton - Various Artists. This 2 record set was issued when it looked as if Eric Clapton might not be with us much longer. He was holed up battling heroin addiction, and his record label kept the product flowing hoping to keep his name out there while the world awaited his return. (And if he didn't return, they had plenty of titles in the pipeline to sell when the demand came in the wake of his passing.) Of course, he did survive, and continued to make records for more than 50 years. But this set is the perfect overview of his first eight years, and includes his work with The Yardbirds, John Mayall, King Curtis, Delaney & Bonnie, Cream, Blind Faith, and Derek & The Dominos along with some solo stuff, and some session work. As with Winwood, it's a great place to begin your collection of Clapton on record.

Michigan Rocks - Various. Originally on the Seeds & Stems label, this single LP captures the excitement, and the brilliance of the Michigan Rock scene of the late 60s, and early 70s. Seger, Nugent, Iggy & The Stooges, Mitch Ryder & Detroit, Frost, SRC, The Rationals, MC5, and Third Power - they're all here. This one cries out for an expanded edition. A second LP could add Grand Funk, Frijid Pink, Suzi Quatro, and many more. A hard rock classic.

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nelson-riddle-me-this · 7 years ago

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Rules: tag 9 people with excellent taste

Colour(s) I’m currently wearing

Mostly white - I’m wearing my bathrobe. My mom got it for me and it’s great. It’s not the softest but it’s good and it’s got cool blue and grey horizontal stripes on the bottom. Normally it’s very frustrating for her to try to get clothing gifts for me, but she hit the nail on the head with this one.

Last band T shirt I bought

I’ve never bought a ‘band’ t-shirt. The artists I really love don’t have much in the way of t-shirts and if they do, they look really corny. Like I’m not gonna get a Streisand t-shirt and look like some middle-aged empty-nester out grocery shopping.

Last band I saw live

I guess our evening Jazz Ensemble - it’s professional adult musicians - at my school’s Jazz Ensembles concert. They’re great. As for non-school performances, I think? the last concert I went to was a Brian Setzer concert at the Hollywood Bowl with my mom a while back.

Last song I listened to

youtube

I tried listening to some contemporary pop from the Love, Simon (2018) soundtrack today and it was really difficult so now I’m at the computer enjoying some tumblr-time and listening to my most-chill and most-favorite Doris Day album.

Lipstick or chapstick?

I used lipstick once for my Katharine Hepburn halloween costume last year and - tbh lipstick is so much work - makeup in general. Like it would be fun to be a girl and wear dresses and be super pretty and stuff - but wo-MAN it’s so much work!

So chapstick. The tube I use is some Burt’s Bees pink grapefruit that I really love. This might sound weird but I only have it because a boy I had a small crush on once asked me to hold it while he changed clothes and forgot to collect it from me..

Last movie I watched

I went to the movies last weekend with @adamsberg and another one of my best friends and saw Love, Simon (2018). I really really really really loved it.

I hadn’t even heard of it until a few weeks ago I saw a trailer on YouTube, but I thought it looked great and it was everything I hoped and more. I have this soft spot for angsty contemporary teen dramas like this [The Fault In Our Stars (2014) and The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012) are also in this micro-genre]. While I love my classics, I also love these great movies that are being made here and NOW! Sometimes I feel apart from the rest of the world - and not in a good way. I wasn’t friendless in high school - but I wasn’t anywhere near as close to any of my friends as any of these movie teens are... as accepted and loved as I am to/by an amazing, small, group of my friends now. I have no horror stories, but I don’t have very many stories and that’s just it - I could have had so much more, but I didn’t. Part of it was because I wasn’t out yet and this film so wonderfully explored that. I highly reccomend it - and not just for the good plot, it’s hilarious and an overall great experience.

Last 3 TV shows I watched

911 (2018-present)

Sometimes my mom’s taste in first-run television is pretty bad (NCIS stopped being good like a decade ago) but in this case I am totally on-board. Angela Bassett [WAIT HOW IS SHE 59???????] is an inspiration (I WANT HER CHARACTER’S HOUSE!), the writing and production values are generally very good - it’s a solid, interesting show. Still, can anyone tell me what the deal with that middle-aged white lady (who’s a few years younger than Angela Bassett but lowekey looks 20 years older) who dresses like a suburban mom trying to dress like her teenage daughter - like what’s the deal with her dating that guy in his 20s?

Frasier (1993-2004)

My mom and I watch this show somewhat regularly as it’s on like every flippin’ night on the scourge that is the Hallmark Channel (generally decent reruns, but I hate the channel itself and their original programming is complete trash). In a lotta ways I really love it - it’s hilarious, witty, sophisticated, adult, and has the power to create a real poigniant moment like you rarely see so fully-realized in sitcoms.

It has its issues though. Frasier and Niles (especially in early seasons) can get annoyingly whiny/snobby. I get that their characters are kinda built around that, but there’s a point at which they take it too far and it becomes disengaging. Also it’s a super white-people-centric show (I wonder why Hallmark likes it so much...) so diversity could be a lot better. Still, it’s generally a high-quality program.

Gosh I don’t remember what else I watched last. I haven’t had a lotta TV time lately so Imma use this opportunity to plug...

Stranger Things (2016-present)

One’a my best friends, Grace, introduced me to this show and I absolutely love it. The period’s really well done - not just accurate, but alive and real and relatable. The acting and casting is great. Winona Ryder is a treasure and I have a shameless crush on Joe Keery’s amazing hair and the person it belongs to. The scoring is effective, interesting, and very different from the kind of film music I usually am exposed to (I’m really making an effort to expand my horizons beyond classic orchestral sounds lately). The production values are great - it’s just an amazing show.

Last 3 characters I identified with

1.) Simon Spier from Love, Simon (2018)

While there are some things about him I definitely don’t identify with (message me personally if you wanna know specifics- I don’t want to spoil anything), I very much identify with his coming out story and coming to terms with his sexuality on his own terms.

I feel like there are people who will criticize the film based on Simon’s extreme normalcy - like he’s honestly a fairly stock white, middle-class, suburban teenage boy and, aside from his involvement in theater and ‘ya know liking boys he doesn’t do much that would be considered “gay” - but that’s kinda the point of the film. Being gay is just something that is and anyone can be gay - they’re not weird or whatever just for being gay - that was one of my fears - that I would be treated (or even just feel like) some strange unwelcome outsider just because of this one thing.

I had a long conversation tonight with an older kinda mentor’y friend of mine (though I’m more of the mentor) who’s gay and who was having a really rough night. Among the lotta things he said was that all gay men cheat that there’s no true monagomous love in the gay community and like lightning I shot him down with a fervor and wisdom and riteousness that would make Kate proud (wayto blow my own horn).

That’s the exact kind of idiotic prejudice that makes people afraid to come out in the first place. It’s fear that kind of small-minded judgmental behavior which was most responsible for me remaining closeted in high school. It’s a hard thing to explain to someone who hasn’t been there because after you’ve been through it, it can kinda feel like nothing afterwards - all this fear and conflict and it’s really kinda purposeless. You find that people still love you and the people who don’t are really not good people anyway. I wish I had come out in high school, I could have been happier. But I am happy now.

2.) Tracy Lord from The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Dedicated followers may remember I rewatched this one a few wks ago on what would have been a date with me and my crush until he cancelled. That time I saw Trace and Kate herself through lenses less tinted than ever before, but still she’s there in all her glory and all her not-glory. Tracy is riteous, despises drinking and gets very contemptful of what she views as weakness, such as her ex-husband’s drinking problem or Mike’s cynical view of the rich. I am often that way (in large part due to the second-generation effects of my mom’s own east coast catholic upbrining) which has it’s merits certainly - that specific east coast almost ‘puritan’ toughness (I think Dick Cavett, said Bette Davis and Kate both had it) can be a tremendous source of strength and sense. It can also easily become cold, prudish, snobbish, and condesending. I have tried to unlearn these aspects and I am still working on that. This is kinda what Tracy’s arc is about, learning to be human and be loved and to love others.

Though it’s not as recent, the next one that comes to mind is

3.) Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things

I already mentioned that my friend Grace got me into this show, but I didn’t mention that I only ever watch it with her. Not that I don’t really love the show - I do - but I like saving it for when we’re together - it makes it more special.

Anyway, more than perhaps any other single character on that show, I identify with Nancy Wheeler. Regular suburban teenager who’s better - not just a regular suburban teenager - she’s aware of the sort of suburban ‘don’t do much with your life ‘cept rasie kids [not that there’s anything wrong with having and raising kids, that’s wonderful] trap. I also found the episode with her at Steve’s house really resonated with me. Barb telling Nancy “this isn’t you” really got to me. Part of me still has an internal ‘Barb’ that kinda ties in with the whole east-coast ‘puritan’y’ morality but there’s also the part of me that wants to be young and just a person and do cool things with my friends and kiss boys and watch great angsty contemporary teen dramas. They both have their merits and drawbacks - the young side has life but can be stupid and reckless - the old side is wise and careful, but can be paralyzing and stagnating.

Books I’m currently reading

I have a whole slew of books checked out that I’m supposed to be reading (for my own enjoyment).

The Unanswered Question: Six Talks at Harvard by Leonard Bernstien

I loved his The Joy of Music so I figured I would like this too. He’s a great music lecturer. I’m only like 5 pages in so far.

Elizabeth Taylor: A Private Life for Public Consumption by Ellis Cashmore

This one I’m a little further on, though most of that was just the introductory timeline of her life with a key notating each illness/medical episode, marriage/actual or rumored romantic relationship, and neaar-death experience (her life is such ‘drama’).

I also have a book about motifs in Hitchcock’s films with the car picnic from To Catch a Thief (1955) on the cover. I haven’t started reading it yet.

And I have some book about Lerner & Lowe, the duo responsibly for My Fair Lady, Camelot, etc...

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This was really really wonderful to participate in. Thank you, my amazing friends, so much for tagging me @adamsberg and @in-the-key-of-d-minor. I’ve enjoyed lots of asks and tag games, but I’ve never felt this good about one before...

I tag

@hildy-dont-be-hasty @tyronepowerbottom @reluctant-martyrs @thevintagious @littlehappyrock @n2ninvisiblegirl @solasdisapproves @hepburnandhepburn and @her-man-friday

If I didn’t tag you but you wanna participate, have at it!

What’m I gonna do, fire you?

#personal #asks #tag game #love simon #gay #the philadelphia story #katharine hepburn #stranger things #doris day #andre previn #jazz

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binsofchaos · 4 years ago

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Music’s first responder: How Yo-Yo Ma answered the pandemic’s call and consoled a reeling nation

After a lifetime of preparation, the iconic cellist is once more proving classical music’s power to honor grief, catalyze hope, and connect us across isolation.

In a way, while the pandemic’s disruptions have left many feeling plunged into completely unknown terrain, Ma had been preparing for this moment his entire life. “Art is not for art’s sake,” he says. “Well, it could be. But really, it’s for life’s sake.”

“I want to try this on you and ask what you think,” he says. He goes on to speak about the ethical vision in Beethoven’s music, a sense of “reaching out for something that was almost attainable,” the possibility for a more fair and just society that, in Beethoven’s day, still glittered beckoningly on the horizon. Two world wars, he continues, shattered that vision and showed us “that the veneer of civilization was really just a veneer.” These days, he says, the ethical striving and idealism still present in Beethoven’s music all too rarely find an echo in our contemporary world.

“But,” ever the optimist, Ma continues, “with the new tools and understanding we have, could there be a more hopeful humanistic philosophy, or a way of thinking that can unite us and propel us forward, maybe not to the same utopian ideal but at least toward being in balance between ourselves and our planet?”

This is not how most musicians typically begin an interview. Ma’s mind is a vast storehouse of ideas, associations, curiosities, streams of thought. “When you ask Yo-Yo a question, his brain comes up simultaneously with 100 different ways of answering,” says Sara Wolfensohn, an old friend.

“I need to be fed ideas,” Ma tells me, though he’s also got a lot of his own. He thinks knowledge is overly siloed in today’s world. He wants to put science back in conversation with the arts. He loves the concept in ecology of the “edge effect,” the notion that biodiversity is richest at the borderline between two ecosystems, and he frequently employs it as a metaphor. He also wants culture to play a more central role in society as a gateway to things our country appears to be decidedly lacking at the moment: trust, empathy, and humility. He views all three as critical to the world’s thriving into the future. And these days, he explains, he is often thinking generationally, both about the limits of his own and the birth of the next.

“I’m about to become a grandfather for the third time,” Ma says, his face widening into that smile that routinely warms the chilliest of concert halls. “And I know that while I’m not going to see the year 2100,” he continues, “someone very close to me probably will. But what is that world going to be like? What is my part in handing them whatever I’ve been responsible for, and what are they going to think about it? These are not abstract questions to me anymore. They’re real questions. Pre-pandemic, the big frustration was that we were spending the great majority of our time producing things,” he adds. “Now I think so much more about meaning and purpose.”

It’s also safe to say that Ma — before the pandemic, too — had thought about these topics once or twice. At-home viewers of the videos he has been creating from his living room can sometimes spot, behind Ma’s right shoulder, a picture of his hero, the legendary Catalan cellist Pablo Casals. The image is framed next to a quote from Casals that Ma has always prized: “I am a man first, an artist second. As a man, my first obligation is to the welfare of my fellow men. I will endeavor to meet this obligation through music — the means which God has given me — since it transcends language, politics and national boundaries. My contribution to world peace may be small, but at least I will have given all I can to an ideal I hold sacred.”

From the perspective of the classical music world today, Casals’s sentiment may sound decidedly old-fashioned. In their own era, men like Casals and Leonard Bernstein had political and social visions, and they spoke beyond classical audiences to address a wider public (John F. Kennedy once said that Bernstein was the only man he “would never run against for political office”). But as the field’s share of prestige in the culture at large has shrunk, so too has the ethical purview of its leading voices. These days, the field’s stars tend to traffic within a more circumscribed cultural sphere, even as they try, when possible, to expand the music’s reach.

Artistic paths rarely follow a straight line. In Ma’s case, one can’t say exactly what led to what, nor is he in a rush to tell you. But in the years following his trip to the Kalahari Desert, Ma began authoring new scripts for building a life of meaning in music. Genre demarcations, which had long been the guardrails of his path through music, suddenly seemed less relevant. While he continued his concerto appearances and solo work, Ma was also suddenly playing the tangos of Astor Piazzolla, and then recording a bluegrass-inflected album, Appalachia Waltz, with the fiddle player Mark O’Connor and bassist Edgar Meyer. Music-making was, in short, becoming less of “a formal thing.” And perhaps the San notion of an instrument being little more than a means to an end had also seeped in somewhere. Around this time, Ma absentmindedly left his $2.5 million Montagnana cello in the trunk of a New York City taxi. (It was recovered.)

Even as he ventured musically further afield, the Bach suites remained Ma’s magnetic north. But he no longer felt compelled to plumb their mystery as part of a solitary quest, choosing instead, in the late 1990s, to work with six directors to create a series of six films, each inspired by one of the suites. Then in 2000, Ma founded Silkroad, a global collective of musicians inspired by the cross-cultural connections that flourished in the lands along the ancient Silk Road trading route. The attacks of September 11, 2001, and the waves of xenophobia that followed, seemed only to reinforce the need for listening across cultures. Headquartered in Boston, Silkroad is still thriving some two decades later.

Three decades later, Ma is now well practiced at seeking out what’s needed. Over the course of the last year, in addition to the recorded videos, the live-streamed performances, and the tour on the flatbed truck, he has released a new album, Songs of Comfort and Hope, with pianist Kathryn Stott, and he has brought his ideas on music and healing directly to the source by performing over Zoom in hospitals. Among the communities Ma has played for privately several times are front-line health care workers at Massachusetts General Hospital.

“It was a time of tremendous anxiety and unbelievable stress,” says Dr. Kathy May Tran, a hospitalist at Mass. General who coordinated his first performance in May for roughly 200 health care workers. “But the chance to connect over music, together with Yo-Yo’s words of care and support, and just the priority of gratitude that he embodies, were restorative to our entire community and gave us the strength to continue. That sounds corny, but it’s completely true.”

Since the pandemic began, Ma has also become involved with a national nonprofit called Project: Music Heals Us, which arranges virtual private concerts for hospital patients. The group to date has connected 161 musicians from across the country with over 3,100 patients in 23 hospitals, many of whom are severely isolated from family and even from most hospital staff due to COVID protocols. The contributing musicians come from all corners of the profession, though it’s fair to say not many are internationally renowned soloists. At one point, project organizers say, a patient at Houston Methodist hospital told his physical therapist that later in the day he would be receiving a private performance from Yo-Yo Ma. The clinician responded by noting that the patient was apparently suffering from delusions, only to later enter the ICU and find that Yo-Yo Ma was indeed there on an iPad, giving a private performance of the Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts.”

“Musicians like Yo-Yo and many others could have taken the path of least resistance and easily avoided the pandemic altogether,” Dr. Tran says. “Instead, they chose to walk into it head on. In medicine and science, there is the concept of a catalyst, an entity or substance that creates a chemical reaction that can be lasting, permanent, transformative. During this pandemic, Yo-Yo has been a catalyst.”

Back in our Zoom interview, the hour has grown late and Ma has grown introspective. “We’re a country that was invented by a group of very smart people,” he says. “We’re living the American experiment, and we want the experiment to succeed and thrive. We want homo sapiens to thrive and survive. I ask myself, What does a 65-year-old do next? I want to be useful, I want to respond to need. I want to try, in whatever years I have, to do things with as much meaning and impact as possible.”

The questioning might imply that an answer would involve a departure from his recent roles, and it’s true that Ma has rarely stayed in one place, artistic or geographic, for long. But it also depends on one’s vantage point. Pull back the camera on his journey and one begins to see not wanderings but through-lines, as even Ma seems to concede. “My interests have always started with people,” he says. “Who they are, why they think and do what they do.”

That observation surely applies to Ma’s music as well. The most powerful performers have an almost mystical way of blurring the lines between interpreting and creating. They attempt to inhabit the composer’s way of seeing. To do so, Ma once said, “One must go out of oneself, finding empathy for another’s experience, forming another world.”

The key word here is empathy. It is what bridges Ma’s work as a musician and his social consciousness. Returning to the composer Leon Kirchner’s challenge, one might say empathy is the true center of Ma’s tone. And yes, he’s found it. And built on it his life.

https://www.cpr.org/2020/05/22/watch-live-on-sunday-yo-yo-ma-performs-bach-cello-suites-to-honor-lives-lost-to-coronavirus/

#music #music's first responder #yo yo ma #emmanuel axe #hope #comfort #music heals us #cpr.org

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lyfestile · 7 years ago

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In both music and manner, Quincy Jones has always registered — from afar, anyway — as smooth, sophisticated, and impeccably well-connected. (That’s what earning 28 Grammy awards and co-producing Michael Jackson’s biggest-selling albums will do.) But in person, the 84-year-old music-industry macher is far spikier and more complicated. “All I’ve ever done is tell the truth,” says Jones, seated on a couch in his palatial Bel Air home, and about to dish some outrageous gossip. “I’ve got nothing to be scared of, man.”

Currently in the midst of an extended victory lap ahead of his turning 85 in March — a Netflix documentary and a CBS special hosted by Oprah Winfrey are on the horizon — Jones, dressed in a loose sweater, dark slacks, and a jaunty scarf, talks like he has nothing to lose. He name-drops, he scolds, he praises, and he tells (and retells) stories about his very famous friends. Even when his words are harsh, he says them with an enveloping charm, frequently leaning over for fist bumps and to tap me on the knee. “The experiences I’ve had!” he says, shaking his head in wonder. “You almost can’t believe it.”

You worked with Michael Jackson more than anyone he wasn’t related to. What’s something people don’t understand about him? I hate to get into this publicly, but Michael stole a lot of stuff. He stole a lot of songs. [Donna Summer’s] “State of IndependenceOriginally written by Vangelis and longtime Yes front man Jon Anderson, “State of Independence” was recorded by Donna Summer in 1982. Jones produced Summer’s version, Michael Jackson helped out on backing vocals, and the song’s central riff does sound awfully similar (albeit faster) to the iconic bass riff on Jackson’s hit single “Billie Jean.” It should also be noted that, last year, Jones won a lawsuit over a royalties dispute against Jackson’s estate.” and “Billie Jean.” The notes don’t lie, man. He was as Machiavellian as they come.

How so? Greedy, man. Greedy. “Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough” — Greg Phillinganes wrote the c sectionPhillinganes, an in-demand studio keyboardist, played on a handful of Jackson-Jones collaborations, including the 1979 album Off the Wall, from which “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” comes.. Michael should’ve given him 10 percent of the song. Wouldn’t do it.

What about outside of music? What’s misunderstood about Michael? I used to kill him about the plastic surgery, man. He’d always justify it and say it was because of some disease he had. Bullshit.

How much were his problems wrapped up with fame? You mean with the way he looked? He had a problem with his looks because his father told him he was ugly and abused himJackson described being abused by his father Joe in a 1993 interview with Oprah, as well as in a 2003 interview with Martin Bashir. “It was really bad,” he recalled during the latter.. What do you expect?

It’s such a strange juxtaposition — how Michael’s music was so joyous, but his life just seems sadder and more odd as time goes by. Yes, but at the end Michael’s problem was PropofolIn 2009, not long after Jackson’s death, the Los Angeles County coroner announced that the singer’s death was caused by “acute propofol intoxication.” Jackson’s doctor, Conrad Murray, had been prescribing the powerful sedative, which Jackson called his “milk,” to help with the singer’s insomnia. In 2011, Murray was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter in Jackson’s death., and that problem affects everyone — doesn’t matter if you’re famous. Big Pharma making OxyContin and all that shit is a serious thing. I was around the White House for eight years with the Clintons, and I’d learn about how much influence Big Pharma has. It’s no joke. What’s your sign, man?

Pisces. Me too. It’s a great sign.

You just mentioned the Clintons, who are friends of yours. Why is there still such visceral dislike of them? What are other people not seeing in Hillary, for example, that you see? It’s because there’s a side of her — when you keep secrets, they backfire.

Like what secrets? This is something else I shouldn’t be talking about.

You sure seem to know a lot. I know too much, man.

What’s something you wish you didn’t know? Who killed Kennedy.

Who did it? [Chicago mobster Sam] GiancanaChicago gangster Sam Giancana is a well-known name among Kennedy conspiracists, both for his alleged help in delivering Illinois votes for Kennedy in the 1960 presidential election and the 1963 assassination of the president. The latter theory largely stems from Giancana’s murder in 1975, not long before he was supposed to testify before a Senate committee investigating collusion between the mob and the CIA.. The connection was there between Sinatra and the Mafia and Kennedy. Joe Kennedy — he was a bad man — he came to Frank to have him talk to Giancana about getting votes.

I’ve heard this theory before, that the mob helped win Illinois for Kennedy in 1960. We shouldn’t talk about this publicly. Where you from?

Toronto. I was at the Massey Hall showIn May 1953, jazz geniuses Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Charles Mingus, Max Roach, and Dizzy Gillespie were recorded — for the first and last time — together in concert at Toronto’s Massey Hall. The resulting live album, Jazz at Massey Hall, is rightly considered a classic..

Really? The Charlie Parker concert with Mingus and those guys? Yeah, man. I saw the contract after. The whole band made $1,100. I’ll never forget that. At the time it was just another gig. It wasn’t historical. Like with Woodstock, Tito Puente told me he wanted to go out to that gig. Those festivals ain’t my thing. Elon Musk keeps trying to get me to go to Burning Man. No thank you. But who knew what Woodstock would turn out to be? Jimi Hendrix was out there fucking up the national anthem.

Wasn’t Hendrix supposed to play on Gula Matari? He was supposed to play on my albumApparently, Hendrix was supposed to lend guitar work to Jones’s 1970 album Gula Matari, which arrived at a time when the guitarist was expanding his musical vocabulary beyond rock and blues and into jazz and funk. Sadly, he didn’t get far, dying of asphyxiation in September of that same year. and he chickened out. He was nervous to play with Toots Thielemans, Herbie Hancock, Hubert Laws, Roland Kirk — those are some scary motherfuckers. Toots was one of the greatest soloists that ever fucking lived. The cats on my records were the baddest cats in the world and Hendrix didn’t want to play with them.

What’d you think when you first heard rock music? Rock ain’t nothing but a white version of rhythm and blues, motherfucker. You know, I met Paul McCartney when he was 21.

What were your first impressions of the Beatles? That they were the worst musicians in the world. They were no-playing motherfuckers. Paul was the worst bass player I ever heard. And Ringo? Don’t even talk about it. I remember once we were in the studio with George Martin, and RingoJones arranged a version of “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” for Starr’s 1970 solo debut album Sentimental Journey, which was produced by the Beatles’ frequent collaborator George Martin. The song, and album, are more than a bit gloopy. had taken three hours for a four-bar thing he was trying to fix on a song. He couldn’t get it. We said, “Mate, why don’t you get some lager and lime, some shepherd’s pie, and take an hour-and-a-half and relax a little bit.” So he did, and we called Ronnie Verrell, a jazz drummer. Ronnie came in for 15 minutes and tore it up. Ringo comes back and says, “George, can you play it back for me one more time?” So George did, and Ringo says, “That didn’t sound so bad.” And I said, “Yeah, motherfucker because it ain’t you.” Great guy, though.

Were there any rock musicians you thought were good? I used to like Clapton’s band. What were they called?

Cream. Yeah, they could play. But you know who sings and plays just like Hendrix?

Who? Paul AllenThe Microsoft co-founder and multibillionaire has a collection of yachts and guitars to rival the world’s finest, both of which he apparently makes good use of..

Stop it. The Microsoft guy? Yeah, man. I went on a trip on his yacht, and he had David Crosby, Joe Walsh, Sean Lennon — all those crazy motherfuckers. Then on the last two days, Stevie Wonder came on with his band and made Paul come up and play with him — he’s good, man.

You hang out in these elite social circles and doing good has always been important to you, but are you seeing as much concern for the poor as you’d like from the ultrarich? No. The rich aren’t doing enough. They don’t fucking care. I came from the street, and I care about these kids who don’t have enough because I feel I’m one of ’em. These other people don’t know what it feels like to be poor, so they don’t care.

Are we in a better place as a country than we were when you started doing humanitarian work 50 years ago? No. We’re the worst we’ve ever been, but that’s why we’re seeing people try and fix it. Feminism: Women are saying they’re not going to take it anymore. Racism: People are fighting it. God is pushing the bad in our face to make people fight back.

We’ve obviously been learning more lately about just how corrosive the entertainment industry can be for women. As someone who’s worked in that business at the highest levels for so many years, do all the recent revelations come as a surprise? No, man. Women had to put up with fucked-up shit. Women and brothers — we’re both dealing with the glass ceiling.

But what about the alleged behavior of a friend of yours like Bill Cosby? Is it hard to square what he’s been accused of with the person you know? It was all of them. Brett Ratner. [Harvey] Weinstein. Weinstein — he’s a jive motherfucker. Wouldn’t return my five calls. A bully.

What about Cosby, though? What about it?

Were the allegations a surprise to you? We can’t talk about this in public, man.

I’m sorry to jump around — Be a Pisces. Jam.

If you could snap your fingers and fix one problem in the country, what would it be? Racism. I’ve been watching it a long time — the ’30s to now. We’ve come a long way but we’ve got a long way to go. The South has always been fucked up, but you know where you stand. The racism in the North is disguised. You never know where you stand. That’s why what’s happening now is good, because people are saying they are racists who didn’t used to say it. Now we know.

What’s stirred everything up? Is it all about Trumpism? It’s Trump and uneducated rednecks. Trump is just telling them what they want to hear. I used to hang out with him. He’s a crazy motherfucker. Limited mentally — a megalomaniac, narcissistic. I can’t stand him. I used to date Ivanka, you know.

Wait, really? Yes, sir. Twelve years ago. Tommy Hilfiger, who was working with my daughter KidadaA former model and current designer, Kidada is the daughter of Jones and his ex-wife Peggy Lipton. Jones’s other daughter with Lipton is the actress Rashida Jones. Jones has five other children, with four other women., said, “Ivanka wants to have dinner with you.” I said, “No problem. She’s a fine motherfucker.” She had the most beautiful legs I ever saw in my life. Wrong father, though.

Would your friend Oprah be a good president? I don’t think she should run. She doesn’t have the chops for it. If you haven’t been governor of a state or the CEO of a company or a military general, you don’t know how to lead people.

She is the CEO of a company. A symphony conductor knows more about how to lead than most businesspeople — more than Trump does. He doesn’t know shit. Someone who knows about real leadership wouldn’t have as many people against him as he does. He’s a fucking idiot.

Is Hollywood as bad with race as the rest of the country? I know that when you started scoring films, you’d hear producers say things like they didn’t want a “bluesy” score, which was clearly code-speak. Are you still encountering that kind of racism? It’s still fucked up. 1964, when I was in Vegas, there were places I wasn’t supposed to go because I was black, but Frank [Sinatra] fixed that for me. It takes individual efforts like that to change things. It takes white people to say to other white people, “Do you really want to live as a racist? Is that really what you believe?” But every place is different. When I go to Dublin, Bono makes me stay at his castle because Ireland is so racist. Bono’s my brother, man. He named his son after me.

Is U2 still making good music? [Shakes head.]

Why not? I don’t know. I love Bono with all my heart, but there’s too much pressure on the band. He’s doing good work all over the world. Working with him and Bob Geldof on debt reliefJones has a truly admirable record of humanitarian and philanthropic work, going back to his support of Dr. Martin Luther King in the early 1960s. In 1999, Jones, U2 lead singer Bono, and musician-activist Bob Geldof (who spearheaded 1985’s Live Aid charity concerts), traveled to the Vatican to meet with Pope John Paul II, hoping to gain his support in their effort to reduce third-world debt. was one of the greatest things I ever did. It’s up there with “We Are the WorldA charity single written by Lionel Richie and Michael Jackson and co-produced by Quincy Jones, “We Are the World” featured a who’s who of 1980s American pop and rock stars, a collection dubbed USA for Africa..”

There’s a small anecdote in your memoir about how the rock musicians who’d been asked to sing on “We Are the World” were griping about the song. Is there more to that story? It wasn’t the rockers. It was Cyndi Lauper. She had a manager come over to me and say, “The rockers don’t like the song.” I know how that shit works. We went to see Springsteen, Hall & Oates, Billy Joel, and all those cats and they said, “We love the song.” So I said [to Lauper], “Okay, you can just get your shit over with and leave.” And she was fucking up every take because her necklace or bracelet was rattling in the microphone. It was just her that had a problem.

What’s something you’ve worked on that should’ve been bigger? What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve never had that problem. They were all big.

How about a musician who deserved more acclaim? Come on, man. The Brothers Johnson. James Ingram. Tevin Campbell. Every one of them went straight through the roof.

From a strictly musical perspective, what have you done that you’re most proud of? That anything I can feel, I can notate musically. Not many people can do that. I can make a band play like a singer sings. That’s what arranging is, and it’s a great gift. I wouldn’t trade it for shit.

A few years back there was a quote you supposedly gave — I couldn’t find the source of it, so maybe it’s apocryphal — where you dismissed rap as being a bunch of four-bar loops. Is that an opinion you stand by? That’s true about rap, that it’s the same phrase over and over and over again. The ear has to have the melody groomed for it; you have to keep the ear candy going because the mind turns off when the music doesn’t change. Music is strange that way. You’ve got to keep the ear busy.

Is there an example from the work you did, maybe with Michael, which illustrates what you’re talking about? Yeah, the best example of me trying to feed the musical principles of the past — I’m talking about bebop — is “Baby Be Mine.” [Hums the song’s melody.] That’s Coltrane done in a pop song. Getting the young kids to hear bebop is what I’m talking about. Jazz is at the top of the hierarchy of music because the musicians learned everything they could about music. Every time I used to see Coltrane he’d have Nicolas Slonimsky’s book.

Yeah, he was famously obsessed with the Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns. That’s the one you’re talking about, right? That’s right. You’re bringing up all the good subjects now! Everything that Coltrane ever played was in that thesaurus. In fact, right near the front of that book, there’s a 12-tone example — it’s “Giant Steps.”Everyone thinks Coltrane wrote that, he didn’t. It’s Slonimsky. That book started all the jazz guys improvising in 12-tone. Coltrane carried that book around till the pages fell off.

When Coltrane started to go far out with the music — “Giant Steps.”

Even further out, though, like on Ascension — You can’t get further out than 12-tone, and “Giant Steps” is 12-tone.

But when he was playing atonally — No, no, no. Even that was heavily influenced by Alban Berg — that’s as far out as you can get.

Do you hear the spirit of jazz in pop today? No. People gave it up to chase money. When you go after Cîroc vodka and Phat FarmCîroc is the alcohol brand owned by Diddy. Phat Farm was the fashion label founded by hip-hop impresario Russell Simmons in 1992. Simmons sold the company in 2004. and all that shit, God walks out of the room. I have never in my life made music for money or fame. Not even ThrillerJones may not have worked on Thrillerfor money, but co-producing the album (with Jackson) presumably made him a ton of it: The 1982 album is widely reported to be the biggest-selling LP of all time, having sold somewhere north of 66 million copies.. No way. God walks out of the room when you’re thinking about money. You could spend a million dollars on a piano part and it won’t make you a million dollars back. That’s just not how it works.

Is there innovation happening in modern pop music? Hell no. It’s just loops, beats, rhymes and hooks. What is there for me to learn from that? There ain’t no fucking songs. The song is the power; the singer is the messenger. The greatest singer in the world cannot save a bad song. I learned that 50 years ago, and it’s the single greatest lesson I ever learned as a producer. If you don’t have a great song, it doesn’t matter what else you put around it.

What was your greatest musical innovation? Everything I’ve done.

Everything you’ve done was innovative? Everything was something to be proud of — absolutely. It’s been an amazing contrast of genres. Since I was very young, I’ve played all kinds of music: bar mitzvah music, Sousa marches, strip-club music, jazz, pop. Everything. I didn’t have to learn a thing to do Michael Jackson.

What would account for the songs being less good than they used to be? The mentality of the people making the music. Producers now are ignoring all the musical principles of the previous generations. It’s a joke. That’s not the way it works: You’re supposed to use everything from the past. If you know where you come from, it’s easier to get where you’re going. You need to understand music to touch people and become the soundtrack to their lives. Can I tell you one of the greatest moments in my life?

Of course. It was the first time they celebrated Dr. King’s birthday in Washington, D.C., and Stevie Wonder was in charge and asked me to be musical director. After the performance, we went to a reception, and three ladies came over: The older lady had Sinatra at the Sands, I arranged that; her daughter had my album The Dude; and then thatlady’s daughter had Thriller. Three generations of women said those were their favorite records. That touched me so much.

I’m trying to isolate what you specifically believe the problem with modern pop is. It’s the lack of formal musical knowledge on the part of the musicians? Yes! And they don’t even care they don’t have it.

Well, who’s doing good work? Bruno Mars. Chance the Rapper. Kendrick Lamar. I like where Kendrick’s mind is. He’s grounded. Chance, too. And the Ed Sheeran record is great. Sam Smith — he’s so open about being gay. I love it. Mark Ronson is someone who knows how to produce.

Putting aside the quality of contemporary songs, are there any technical or sonic production techniques that feel fresh? No. There ain’t nothing new. The producers are lazy and greedy.

How does that laziness manifest itself? Listen to the music — these guys don’t know what they’re doing. You’ve got to respect the gift God gave you by learning your craft.

Are you as down on the state of film scoring as you are on pop? It’s not good. Everybody’s lazy. Alexandre DesplatThe French film composer won an Oscar for his score for 2015’s The Grand Budapest Hotel and his been nominated an additional eight times. — he’s good. He’s my brother. He was influenced by my scores.

Again, when you say film composers are lazy, what does that mean, exactly, in this context? It means they’re not going back and listening to what Bernard Herrmann did.

Do you see a future for the music business? There isn’t a music business anymore! If these people had paid attention to Shawn Fanning 20 years ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But the music business is still too full of these old-school bean counters. You can’t be like that. You can’t be one of these back-in-my-day people.

You’re talking about business not music, but, and I mean this respectfully, don’t some of your thoughts about music fall under the category of “back in my day”? Musical principles exist, man. Musicians today can’t go all the way with the music because they haven’t done their homework with the left brain. Music is emotion and science. You don’t have to practice emotion because that comes naturally. Technique is different. If you can’t get your finger between three and four and seven and eight on a piano, you can’t play. You can only get so far without technique. People limit themselves musically, man. Do these musicians know tango? Macumba? Yoruba music? Samba? Bossa nova? Salsa? Cha-cha?

Maybe not the cha-cha. [Marlon] BrandoThe actor and Jones were longtime friends. During a down period in Jones’s life, he spent time on the island in Tahiti which Brando owned. The two called each other Leroy, owing to a story recounted extremely well (one among many) in this recent GQ profile. used to go cha-cha dancing with us. He could dance his ass off. He was the most charming motherfucker you ever met. He’d fuck anything. Anything! He’d fuck a mailbox. James Baldwin. Richard Pryor. Marvin Gaye.

He slept with them? How do you know that? [Frowns.] Come on, man. He did not give a fuck! You like Brazilian music?

Yeah, but I don’t know much beyond Jorge Ben and Gilberto Gil. Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso are the kings! You know, I visit the favelas every year. Those motherfuckers have a hard life. They’re tough, though. You think our shit in America’s bad? It’s worse there.

I read that as a young man you used to carry around a .32. Yeah.

Did you ever fire it? Yeah.

At what? [Grins.] Just practicin’.

Okay, let me ask you a left-field question. In your memoir, there’s a section where you talk about — Being a dog?

That’s not what I was thinking of, but yeah, that’s in there. I was thinking of a section where you describe having a nervous breakdown not long after Thriller. You talk so often about your ups — I’m wondering if maybe you can talk about one of your downs. What happened was that I was a producer on The Color Purple. Spielberg and me are still great friends, man. He’s a great fucking guy. I loved working with him.

Yep, but what happened on The Color Purple that caused your breakdown? What happened was that I was a producer on that movie and everybody went on vacation after we finished filming — everybody except me. I had to stay home and write an hour and 55 minutes of music for the movie. I was so fucking tired from doing that, I couldn’t see. I put too much on my plate and it took its toll. You learn from your mistakes and I learned I couldn’t do that again.

What’s the last mistake you learned from? My last record [2010’s Q: Soul Bossa Nostra]. I was not in favor of doing it, but the rappers wanted to record something as a tribute to me, where they’d do versions of songs that I’d done over my career. I said to them, “Look, you got to make the music better than we did on the originals.” That didn’t happen. T-Pain, man, he didn’t pay attention to the details.

What’s something positive you’ve been feeling about music lately? Understanding where it comes from. It’s fascinating. I was on a trip with Paul Allen a few years ago, and I went to the bathroom and there were maps on the wall of how the Earth looked a million-and-a-half years ago. Off the coast of South Africa, where Durban is, was the coast of China. The people had to be mixing, and you hear it in the music — in the drums from both places. There are African qualities to Chinese music, Japanese music, too, with the Kodo drumming. It all comes from Africa. It’s a heavy thing to think about.

You’re about to turn 85. Are you afraid of the end? No.

What do you think happens when you pass? You’re just gone.

Are you religious? No, man. I know too much about it. I knew Romano Mussolini, the jazz piano player, the son of Benito Mussolini. We used to jam all night. And he’d tell me about where the Catholics were coming from. The Catholics have a religion based on fear, smoke, and murder. And the biggest gimmick in the world is confession: “You tell me what you did wrong and it’ll be okay.” Come on. And almost everywhere you go in the world, the biggest structures are the Catholic churches. It’s money, man. It’s fucked up.

On the subject of money, I have a crass question. You spent the first half of your career working in jazz, which isn’t especially lucrative. When did you start to make serious money? When I started producing after Lesley Gore. I was the first black vice-president at a record label [Mercury], which was great — except that meant they didn’t pay me for producing herJones had his first major pop successes — including 1963’s “It’s My Party” — producing a teenaged Lesley Gore for the Mercury label, where Jones was named a vice-president in 1964.. You know how they do; you know your country. But after that, in the ’70s, when I started producing for other artists, and then with Michael of course, that made me a lot of money. And big money came from TV producing — The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, that was huge for me. Mad TV was on for 14 years. That syndication money is great, man.

How much did your upbringing — the difficulties with your mother and growing up in real povertyAs recounted in his 2002 autobiography, Q, Jones’s youth in Chicago and Seattle was one of almost unimaginable physical and emotional trauma. In addition to facing poverty, he was stabbed in the hand by a gang member as a child, and frequently witnessed his mother’s extreme and frightening mental instability. — affect how you perceive success? Of course it affected it. I appreciate the shit I have because I know what it’s like to have nothing.

What about having a fractured family? How did that change you? Same as with money, man. I appreciate what I got.

How often do you think about your mother? All the time. She died in a mental home. Brilliant lady, but she never got the help she needed. Her dementia praecox could’ve been cured with vitamin B, but she couldn’t get it because she was black.

When you think about her now, what comes to mind? That I wish I could’ve been closer to her. What happened to her — for kids, that’s a bitch.

What’s the most ambitious thing you have left to do? Qwest TVQwest TV is a subscription streaming service mostly dedicated to footage of jazz performances and documentaries. It’s still in beta.. Everybody is excited about it. It’s going to be a musical Netflix. It’s the best music from every genre around the world. So if kids want to hear something great, it’ll be right there for them. I can’t believe I still get to be involved in things like this. I stopped drinking two years ago and I feel like I’m 19 years old. I’ve never been so creative. I can’t tell you, man — what a life!

This interview has been edited and condensed from two conversations.

#in conversation #quincy jones #music #vulture homepage lede

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northcountryprimitive · 5 years ago

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The North Country Primer #1: Michael Wohl, Seattle WA

Originally published at North Country Primitive in March 2015

In the first of a series, we fire eight questions of varying quality at an unsuspecting musician. First up is Seattle-based guitarist, Michael Wohl, whose Solo Guitar album is available at his Bandcamp page on compact disc. Our thanks to Michael for taking part in this. Please be sure to look him up at his website and his Bandcamp page.

Tell us a bit about yourself and the musical journey that took you to a place where you concluded that playing an acoustic guitar on your own was a good idea… I’ve played guitar since I was nine years old. I am now 28 so I guess that was 1995. The bands that made me want to start were Nirvana, Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins - big dramatic 90s rock bands. My dad was really into Queen and got me some of their albums - I really liked Brian May’s guitar. Still do. It seemed like pretty much the only acceptable thing for a young person to do was to play in a band. So I set out to do just that. My mom and dad wouldn’t let me play drums, but a guitar was okay if I started on an acoustic. I started taking lessons at the Old Town School of Folk Music, the legendary Chicago spot, back when it was on Armitage. I lived very close to the school, also in Old Town. People like Big Bill Broonzy, Pete Seeger, and Josh White played there back in the day. So I guess the irony is that I went there to take guitar lessons because I was into Kurt Cobain and Kim Thayil, but I’d get dropped off early for my lessons, sit around, and hear people playing all sorts of folk and traditional music. I heard a lot of blues and bluegrass and I guess it crept in my mind along with big loud rock. I heard Jimi Hendrix at around that same age and I was pretty much a lost cause for anything other than playing the guitar at that point! I took guitar lessons from a teacher there named Ramsey Gouda. He also showed stuff from Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, The Clash and David Bowie. So I was lucky to get exposed to a lot of really wildly different music. By the time I was 12 or so, I was trying to start bands with my friends and playing wherever would have us - rec centers and stuff. It was pretty cool at the time. A lot of them let us book our own bills and they actually paid us! Pretty cool, now that I think about that. We played in punk and metal bands, because that’s the only thing that makes sense for teenagers to play! So at that point, I was full on into Black Flag, Iron Maiden, Minor Threat & Fugazi, things like that. I played in punk bands until I was about 20. That was my first experience going on tour, putting out records, and all that cool stuff. I was in a few different bands and had a lot of fun and got to travel around and meet a lot of people that I am still friends with. Then I moved to Seattle. I moved pretty, uh, impulsively, so I spent a lot of time hanging out by myself and I guess I started coming back to acoustic music and folk music around that time, because it’s the best music to play by yourself. I got headlong obsessed with Neil Young and Bob Dylan and the Harry Smith Anthology of American Folk Music when I was around 20 and didn’t play in a band for a couple years. I got into John Fahey and all the Takoma Records stuff around that time too. And of course Doc Watson, Blind Blake, Mississippi John Hurt, and Skip James. After that I started playing in rock ‘n’ roll bands. Heavy stuff inspired by the 60s and 70s. Ten Years After, Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac stuff, the Allman Brothers, Deep Purple and all that jazz. But I had already started playing this acoustic stuff by myself, so I’d come home from getting stoned and jamming out and play by myself on my acoustic guitar and write all these songs I didn’t know what to do with and learn old songs too. After a while I had quite a few, so I started recording them to teach myself a little about recording - then I started playing that material out for other people. And that’s how I got to where I am now. I guess I never decided that playing acoustic guitar on my own was a “good idea” per se. I always did that when I was by myself. The decision was maybe that I should start sharing it with other people and performing that way. I can’t say for sure why I did that, I just felt like I had a lot I wanted to say that I wasn’t communicating.

What has influenced your music and why? I guess I kind of answered that by rambling on in the first question. I just try to listen to as much as a I can. I think that’s really important. If you’re not playing, be listening. Anyone who picks up a guitar - or whatever instrument - and plays it like they mean it might be an influence to me. I think playing a guitar is absolutely the most fun thing a person can do - when I see another person play one and really feel it, really enjoy themselves, it communicates something to me that makes me want to play one too.

What have you been up to recently?

I got back from a West Coast tour in September and have been chilling out, writing a lot of new songs, learning some other traditional tunes, trying to expand the proverbial songbook. I went to Maui with my fiancée’s family last month and played some amazing music with some people out there. Some people who sang Hawaiian music, some who played more bluegrass and folk tunes. One of the coolest songs I’ve ever heard was by a player out there, a trucker ballad about being a pilot on an ore freighter bringing back minerals and things from the asteroid belts and missing life back on Earth. Heavy! I’m booking more shows for the spring and summer and hope to hit the road sometime soon. And I’m working on a new album, which has been taking a long time cause I keep writing new songs that I want to be on it.

What are you listening to right now, old or new? Any recommendations you’d like to share with us?

Right now, like this second, I’m listening to Dave Van Ronk. The last two records I bought were Japanese bamboo flute music and a guitar duet album that looked nice, but I haven’t listened to either yet. I’ve been listening to a lot of Djalma de Adrade, aka Bola Sete, lately. Gillian Welch & Dave Rawlings - they’re so good, I can’t believe they’re real. I listen to a lot of jazz around the house. A Love Supreme has been on there a lot lately, Bill Evans live at the Village Vanguard. I just got a nice collection of Chopin’s mazurkas at the record store for like six dollars. Bela Bartok. I’ve been hooked pretty hard on The Dead - Europe ‘72 particularly. The label Lights in the Attic from Seattle put out an album by Karen Dalton that I can never seem to get out of my head if it rains called 1966.

I also listen to stuff from bands I’ve played with and people I know around the West Coast. Lonesome Shack and GravelRoad are two really good electric blues bands from Seattle. Some really insanely talented, psychedelic, heavy-as-hell blues bands from California, JOY and Radio Moscow. A favorite record of the past year is Bruce Langhorn’s soundtrack to the movie The Hired Handon Scissortail Editions. It’s the soundtrack to a Western from the 70s he did.Takoma Records alum Toulouse Engelhardt sent me a copy of his new record,Mind Garden and it’s really great good too. Wonderful guitar instrumentals, really nice spatial and textural stuff, with some insanely formidable picking. Marisa Anderson’s Mercury is another phenomenal solo guitar record I’ve been listening too. That came out on Mississippi Records, along with Creekside by Lori Goldston, a solo cello record I got last spring that I really love.

The guitar nerd bit: what guitars do you play and what do you like about them? Is there anything out there you’re coveting?

For my acoustic stuff I have a Martin 000-15 with a slot headstock, a 12-fret model. It has a nice wide nut and ample string spacing for fingerpicking stuff. I gave it a bone nut & saddle and changed the tuners and now it’s a dream to play. I was coveting a D-18 for a while, but I was lucky enough to get a really good deal on one recently, so I’ve been playing that a ton.

Banjos: yes or no?

Banjos…don’t have one myself. I like when other people play them. When I play them I find myself wishing I was playing a guitar.

What are you planning to do next?

Finish the album I’ve been working on. Hit the road and play those tunes. Play as much music as I can and meet people in as many different places as I can go. Most of my acoustic guitar recordings were done between a year and a half and almost three years ago. They don’t really reflect what I’ve been up to these days. Instrumental numbers, while I do play them, don’t make up the majority of what I’m doing - usually about a third or less even of my set when I play live. I’ve been more focused on playing live than recording for the past year… I have more fun doing that than recording, I guess. These days most of what I’m doing is singing and playing guitar with a few instrumentals here and there. Some traditional songs, many original songs, some fingerstyle, some picked. The last thing I wanted to do was get pigeonholed and lost in the cloud of open tuned fingerpicking. I love that sound, don’t get me wrong, but it’s only one component of my sound and style. That stuff alone doesn’t scratch my creative itch. I don’t feel fully expressive or like I’m really communicating what I have to say with limitations like that.

What should we have asked you and didn’t?

I don’t know, it’s hard to think of questions to ask yourself without getting pretty existential! Thanks for contacting me and keep in touch.

http://michaelwohl.bandcamp.com/

#michael wohl #american primitive

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