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artist-issues · 5 months ago

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idk anything about 21 pilots, but you talk about them a lot and they seem cool!! Who are they and what are they about and where do i get started in their music 😁

GIRL

These kinds of questions make me so happy. People who know me in real life organically ask me to talk about movies and stuff sometimes, but never bands, and when they find out I like twenty one pilots, never them 😂

Anyway,

Twenty one pilots is a roughly 15 year-old band led by Tyler Joseph, who used to be an intern at Five14 Church (New Albany Church) in Columbus, Ohio, and a rising basketball star in his schooling. Then, my understanding is, he taught himself how to play piano, got interested in/wrote songs during his senior year of high school, and then eventually dropped out of college to pursue making music full time. The band is named after a play by Arthur Miller called “All My Sons.” Tyler Joseph studied it in school—he was inspired by the plot of having to make a hard decision that ultimately costs lives…and you can hear through all the songs the sense of urgency, and the way the lead singer is convinced that every single choice you make can have dire consequences.

At the start of the band, it had him and two other members. Their first album is called “Twenty One Pilots,” and it has sick album art that everybody loves:

The band played local shows (like in literal houses and backyards and stuff) and were mostly performing songs from this album. My favorite twenty one pilots song is on this album: it’s called Addict With a Pen.

(Specifically, my favorite is this version of him performing it live several years after its release, which I saw after returning from the camp where I got saved.)

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In those early years, twenty one pilots performed songs off of Self-Titled. But they also did a few that Tyler Joseph wrote independently, the ones not featured on the album.

One of the songs that he wrote that isn’t on this album was written when he was in high school before he had a band. It’s called “Save.” He probably recorded it in the early 2000s, but if I don’t have my years mixed up, I didn’t hear that song until I was 14-turning-15 in the year 2011. And it, along with another song of his called “Clear,” played with it, was the first song I ever heard by twenty one pilots. I heard it the week I gave my life to Christ. Save is a gut-scream song about the need to be saved. It’s hard to listen to. But in the context I heard it in, I needed to be hearing the idea of “needing salvation” in that extreme and real of a voice. So I love it.

Clear is about Tyler Joseph’s struggle with trying to figure out if it’s better to get people thinking with cryptic lyrics about their need for a savior—OR should he just come out and say, “I’m a Christian, I believe Jesus Christ is what you need, please believe in Him like I did?” He winds up settling on the first option (sometimes I wish he hadn’t) and “telling the audience what he can,” and not pushing it on them when they “let him know when they’ve had enough.”

Clear planted the germs in my brain that led to me considering art, and then storytelling as a tool to deliver hard truth “under the eyes of watchful dragons.” He talks about the concept of Romans 7 using the philosophy of disguising his words, like in Clear, in this interview, which, when I saw the part at about 9 minutes, made me start paying attention to Tyler Joseph as a person instead of just listening to his music.

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Anyway. Back to the band.

One of these independent songs, NOT on the original album of the band, was called “Time to Say Goodbye,” and it has a pretty intense ‘cycle of knowing you’re messed up (like really messed up. suicide attempt and purposeless darkness levels of messed up) -> unable to fix it on your own -> trying anyway -> failing -> driven to accept Christ’s ability to kill the old you so you can live for something bigger than your messed-up self’ concept in the lyrics.

That whole progression, the “Romans 7 Progression,” I think of it as, winds up being one of the strongest recurring themes in every album afterward.

But I bring it up because the legend is, when performing that song, Time to Say Goodbye, at a little venue, Josh Dun, who already had some experience drumming in a different Christian band, saw twenty one pilots for the first time. And he thought the song and Tyler were brilliant. The current drummer of the band introduced him to Tyler, and when everybody in the band except Tyler quit, Josh Dun quit his job with no fallback plan and became the drummer of twenty one pilots. Since then, they have been a two-man band.

They have their own genre, because they’re both self-taught, and one of the identifying factors of the band is that both Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph are intensely opposed to giving in to the draw of “Fame” or “Success.” They stubbornly insist that they just make music they like. Whatever, that’s not unique, lots of bands are punk rock and go “fight the power, we don’t care what anybody thinks, etc.”

But then you listen to Tyler Joseph adding screamo and ukulele and rap over…like, church-piano, and you hear him say things like, “I just rap because I needed to fit a lot of words in, and also my brother likes fast rap.” and you go, “oh. They meant it. They don’t know how any of this works and they just do what they like.”

Especially in their early stuff.

I “got into” twenty one pilots in the year 2011. That’s the same year they signed to a record label. They produced what I think is their best album, “Vessel,” (nobody agrees with me.)

I could break down every song on the album but nobody wants that and nobody would read it, so I’ll just say; it has deeper exploration of the band’s same themes:

Be Introspective - All the time, the lead singer is writing lyrics that urgently explore the dark corners of his own fear, doubt, and insecurity—and then he flips it around and begs his listeners to be introspective, too, because “there’s something you desperately need.” It’s this idea of not running from your emotions, but letting them drive you to what you need. (He’s never clear about what that is, though, beyond the general word “faith.”)

Focus on Your Purpose - They insist that being introspective should lead to picking what you believe, and living it out to make the most of your time.

What Music Should Be For - The lyrics are all about how music should be used to fight darkness, because it can be exorcism of your inner demons, and a rallying cry to gather around and show you that you’re not the only person who has demons. With that in mind, the band is consistently opposed to “heartless,” “mindless” music that’s just there to make you dance or indulge.

Peace Wins, Fear Loses - This theme is where they usually get closest to their Christian roots. The pattern, like I said, is the Romans 7 Cycle: I’m afraid of who I am because the digger I deep, the darker and crazier I am…but I don’t have to act on that fear. I can just throw myself at the mercy of…._____ which brings peace. Peace wins, fear loses. (After signing to the record label, Tyler Joseph went full-on into the idea in Clear of never saying point-blank that Jesus is the answer. He hints and alludes. But from that moment on, he disguises Biblical principles in zombie-and-darkness metaphors. And he hasn’t stopped doing that since 2011.)

Doubt - A recurring theme that actually has nothing to do with the audience is “doubt.” Tyler Joseph exorcises his issues with not being able to physically see God, and doubting His existence (usually because of a lack of feeling), or doubting His ability to wash Tyler clean, in his songs. All the time. Just…constantly. He sings about it so often. Which, on the one hand, is cool, because many Christian artists sing about the resolve to have faith in the face of doubt. They don’t sing so much about the feeling and the addiction to doubt that comes with doubt. If that makes sense. But on the other hand, that’s not cool—because when you only talk about the fact that you have doubts, but you don’t ever resolve them, then what you’re doing is you’re constantly rolling around in the problem without ever introducing the solution.

It’s worth noting that I think their very best song of all time is on this album, and it’s “Holding Onto You.”

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It’s their full Romans 7 Cycle in a way that addresses doubt, too. The imagery is everything I love about twenty one pilots, which I would sum up as:

“Use dark imagery to prove how defeatable darkness can be.”

I like that kind of imagery for the same reasons I like Halloween.

People started noticing the band, mainstream, worldwide, in 2015, though. When they released “Blurryface.”

They did it in such a cool way. The band loves giving their fans a sense of “uncovering” what they’re doing next. That gives the fans a sense of ownership—like they’re a part of what the band is creating. And, it makes them want to investigate the concepts in the songs—which is one step closer to examining what they believe. Organically.

Anyway. They accomplished this before Blurryface, is I remember correctly, by making a Twitter account for this mysterious character. They’d livestream Tyler and Josh from the perspective of an unseen, loudly breathing third person. Or the feed would just be a dark shot of the woods. No explanations. At one point I think I remember “he” even started “hacking” popular fans’ accounts and making posts in-character. He always spells things in all caps, with words misspelled or smashed together. And he’d tease new songs that would be on the new album.

And then, BAM, Blurryface the album drops, and it’s a smash hit. Every single song. The band had never seen that level of success before, and all of it is very ironic, because the album concept is this: “Tyler Joseph puts a name to his Insecurities, who want him dead, and battles them.”

So the whole “album cycle,” and all through tour, Tyler Joseph wears inky black paint on his hands and throat, because anxiety gives him the feeling of suffocating. Red is also the signature color of the character representing his dark side, his insecurity: “Blurryface.”

Twenty one pilots have been very intentionally deciding what shirts they wear and what visuals they use from the beginning. Josh was always wearing something alien-associated, and Tyler was always something undead, for example. But this was a whole other level of performance art. During concerts, Tyler Joseph would start out wearing his black paint thick around his neck and hands. But as the live show went on, naturally because of sweat, the paint would get thinner and thinner. So by the end of the show, the feeling is that “Blurryface” has been defeated.

I made a huge post about ranking the Blurryface songs, if you ever have nothing to do for an absurd amount of time and feel like listening to the songs. But those songs are what most people know twenty one pilots by.

Then they took an intensely long hiatus, (I mean. One year of no public appearances.) after the success of Blurryface. I remember wondering if they were ever going to make music again, and thinking “maybe they’re the perfect band” because in my high-school-entering-college opinion, they’d never written a bad song or done anything remotely uncool or worth hating from 2009-2016, so if they never made music again they’d have gone out on top. Plus, at that point, Tyler had married, and, feeling a Christian kinship with him, I had a vague biased opinion that maybe he’d want to settle in with his family and quit the fame game.

But NO. They weren’t done! In 2018, the fans discovered this hidden website associated with the band, and you could read letters written by a new character named Clancy. They were about this whole new world Tyler Joseph created, called “Trench,” which consequently became the name of their next album. This was a full-blown concept album. It was a deeper exploration, not of the Romans 7 Cycle that always made me love their lyrics…but more like an exploration of “how do suicidal thoughts and self-focus captivate you, and what lies do they use…and can you ever really escape them?”

There was also a much tighter focus on suicide being the big idealogical villain, the antithesis, of the band. “Stay alive” and the topic of suicide were always discussed in the rest of the band’s songs. But the momentum of this album seemed very, very specifically targeted at the issue this time. There’s a whole song dedicated to it called Neon Gravestones in the smack middle of the album.

Which is great. I’m glad. It’s awesome. But it’s like…”what’s the answer?” Way back in “Time to Say Goodbye,” the answer is “replace physical life-taking with spiritual self-sacrifice and rebirth.” But Trench, and its whole concept, was specifically engineered to leave you with no clear answer to the problem presented.

Worst of all, Tyler Joseph mentioned, in his vague noncommittal way, that this album saw him flirting with the idea of “a world with no God” and “loss of faith.” But he never really said he wasn’t a Christian anymore, and songs like Morph seem to suggest the opposite.

Anyway. The album’s excellent “story,” with its notes of Shawshank Redemption and The Village and 1984 ended on a cliffhanger. The character Clancy kept trying to escape with the help of a rebellion, and kept getting captured, but he always had this sort of confused resolve to “keep going.”

The next album was weird. They flipped all of their usual imagery on it’s head, from marketing style choices to the literal clothes they wore to tiny things, like whether or not Tyler was standing on Josh’s left or Josh’s right in promotional material. And all of that was intentional. Which is why I’m obsessed with them.

I love this album because I love them and their intentionality. I don’t love it for any other reason; there’s nothing about this album that is “twenty one pilots” aside from what I just said; they are doing all of that reverse-psychology stuff intentionally. In-story, this is still a continuation of Trench; the idea is that Clancy has been captured and the whole album is propaganda from the villains. So that’s neat. But anyone who didn’t know that, and just remembered twenty one pilots from Stressed Out and punk rock were like, “what happened to twenty one pilots? What’s wrong with them?”

The album does this thing that they used to do a lot as like a meta-nod at music—they would make songs with upbeat melodies and happy sounds, but the lyrics would be about insecurity and darkness and doubt. They did that on purpose. But Scaled and Icy took that tongue-in-cheek style and made it the whole album. Plus, it released during COVID. So on top of all the chaos going on in the world, this band that usually releases music that slaps you upside the head and says, “THINK. THINK ABOUT HOW SELF-CONTRADICTORY YOU ARE. THINK ABOUT THE DARKNESS AND HOW TO GET OUT OF IT.” suddenly releases an album that’s more like, “Hey everything is fiiiine.”

This album is pretty godless. But again, this was also the album that has nothing to do with anything serious or real—on purpose—except in a reverse-psychology way. It was all on purpose.

Fast-forward to today. Clancy just released. It’s supposed to be the end of this “story” that started with Blurryface overtly, and the concepts that started in Vessel. Musically, concept-wise, it’s a return to form. They do that thing where they switch up the tempo when you’re not expecting it. You can’t pin it down to any one genre. There’s deep, dark imagery. And the story is back, not with hidden clues, but with in-your-face costumes and a music video for every song.

But the problem is, it won’t end. They said this was the end, and I thought, “if anything forces an artist to use clarity, it’s the end of a story. You have to commit to an ending. You have to say what you believe.” And that’s all I’ve been wishing would happen since 2017, when I started feeling less like “I relate to those dark thoughts and doubts,” and more like, “I’m worried about them.” Because clarity denotes security in what you believe. And the whole “battle” has been against insecurity. And to that extent, doubt.

It’s not happening, though. They released the last music video, and it really looks like the end of the story is, “and the cycle continues.” Now, there’s been hints that they’ll end the story after tour season, maybe by releasing an additional single, or some wishful thinkers are even saying “DELUXE ALBUM!!” But for now, it’s another cliffhanger-maybe-unsatisfying-ending.

The further away they’ve gotten from releasing the song “Clear,” the further away the focus seems to get from “darkness is defeatable.” And they left “it’s defeatable specifically by God” in the rear view mirror first.

And the thing is…I worry about that. Because it really looks like he’s just playing the field. That he started off with the intent to share Christ with people very genuinely, through the gift he was given in writing and music and even the gift he was given in struggling through darkness. And his strategy was, “I’ll use art to help people trust me, and then I’ll share what I’ve learned about the Truth (Jesus.)” But then…I mean, from the outside, it looks like they got popular. And they got popular by talking about their struggles. So how do I know he hasn’t just slipped into a cycle of doubting, then instead of letting brokenness and doubt drive him back to Christ, and pull others along with him, he sits in brokenness and doubt because he’s relying on the people who relate? He’s choosing to lean on crowds of people who feel the same way he does, cheering his songs back at him, as his support, when he used to lean on Christ?

And now he can’t even see his way back to what looked like (to me) the original intent—he says things like “I don’t think I’ll ever come out and say, ‘hey I found the answers, here they are, follow me,” in interviews. He skirts. He says, “stay alive, find your purpose, decide what you believe,” but he doesn’t say “here’s why you should stay alive, here’s what your purpose is, here’s what’s worth believing in, here’s where genuine life comes from.”

So now he gets to tell all his original (and several largely Christian) fans, “I haven’t abandoned Christ, I just struggle with doubt and I don’t want to alienate my friends (the point of the song Heathens.)” But he turns right around and says to his non-believing fan base, “I’m not telling you what to believe—in fact, maybe I’m not even sure of what I believe.”

And at some point, that stops being genuine. I think. I don’t think he’s reached the point where he’s not genuine yet. I don’t believe that of Tyler Joseph. I think he’s still not sure he wants to sing, with all the conviction it would take, about how Jesus is the ONLY way, when he himself feels like he struggles so much with doubt. How do you lead people where you’re imperfectly going? He has a handle on not committing suicide. So he leads them there, as far as he can. But…still. There’s life beyond this life. There’s EITHER life or death beyond this death. At some point, does he believe that, or not? Is he going to keep using his gift to supply bandaids to cannonball wounds, or not?

But I have basically been a nervous wreck whenever I think about them, the backing soundtrack of my growing years, since 2017.

I have enormous amounts of respect and this familial loyalty-feeling for both Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun (Tyler more so, because of his impact on me through his individually-released songs when I was in high school and then up through college.) I look at them on like, MTV and junk and have the same familiar, adoring, well-wishing feeling I did when a friend I knew went on to be moderately famous.

And all that to say, I love them, I don’t think any other band can do what they do or has done what they’ve done, and they’re my unmatched favorite. But I can acknowledge that there’s something that might be rotting in there, now. Something that didn’t used to be this way. And you just can’t keep going so long, claiming you’re talking about hope, without standing up for the Source of Hope. That’s all probably way more than you wanted to know. But thank you for letting me vent it all, even if you didn’t get to the bottom!

#twenty one pilots #top #tøp #Tyler Joseph #stressed out #music #my favorite band #the favorite band #five14 church #Columbus Ohio #bands #Clancy #meta #analysis #band history #Josh dun #Joshua William dun #Christianity #faith

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bamfaholic · 3 months ago

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Angel of the Streets

Desc: Kurt finds a dying bird and eases its end.

Tags: animal death, no graphic depiction, Kurt is in fact religious, author is an ex-christian now Jew, comfort fic, one shot, not edited/proofread

A/N: I'm sick in bed and it's like 4am so I wrote this. I also lost a pet bird today, which heavily inspired this comfort fic. Not proof read, and probably not my best work. Will be cross posted to my AO3.

Banners made by @/cafekitsune

The X-Men had taken a short holiday to town. Scott insisted it was just a supply run (groceries) but Rouge already had the rest of the crew on board to window shop and sight see.

The streets bustled enough that no one paid much mind to the fuzzy blue elf straggling behind the group of peculiar young adults. He was taking his time, enjoying the beauty. The architecture of Downstate New York was far different from that of Germany. He hoped to visit Albany one day, for he knew the city preserved much of its Dutch heritage, especially in its buildings.

Of course, the first building to catch his eye was the old church down at the corner. Far older than the shops and office buildings near it, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Made of stone, a bell tower near the front with a real metal bell inside, a handcrafted statue of Mother Mary decorated the front lawn. Kurt slowed down as the group passed the entrance. Its doors were left closed. It was a Wednesday, no service to be had, and it wasn't common for churches to be open to the public anymore. The government raided them first for housing mutants, some pastors catching jail time for being "Mutie sympathizers."

Kurt's eyes scanned the carved wooden sign, right beside the sidewalk. It read: Church of Immanuel. All are welcome. A bittersweet smile bit at Kurt's lips, the "all are welcome" line clearly being conditional. He was confident if he were to step inside he'd experience Deja Vu of his younger years.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself. He reasoned it was the crisp New York Autumn cold nipping at his ears, but truly churches were where he felt the gaze of God the most. Physical reminders of His presence, just like his rosary. He felt like he was a sheet of glass, easily seen through. He whispered one of the countless prayers he had memorized before beginning to catch up to the group. However, a flock of pigeons captured his attention next.

Now his smile turned playful. Pigeons delighted Kurt, finding himself one and the same with them. He reached in his pocket for the bread roll he bought at the bakery a few blocks back, breaking it into small little pieces as he carefully approached the flock.

Kurt found himself more fond of animals than people, they had no concept of good or bad, demons or angels. They were just creations of God, partaking in their role of this interstellar play.

"Hello, meine freunde." He said amusingly, crouching closer to the ground. He began to scatter pieces of his bread, doing his best to be fair with the distribution, but something caught his eye.

One lone pigeon stayed behind, at the front of the steps to the church. It laid on its side, its chest rising and falling quickly. The poor thing was dying, that was clear. It's feathers puffed, eyes closed. Kurt stuffed the roll back into his pocket before carefully approaching the bird. With gentle care, he scooped the pigeon into his hands.

"Oh, you poor thing." He murmured. "You're not alone anymore, and soon your suffering will be over."

Not very knowledgeable about birds, he just gently held the creature. He didn't allow the other birds to come near, creating distance with his tail, and did his best not to move or jerk his arms.

"What is it Americans call you?" He clicked his tongue. "Oh, yes, rats with wings." He shook his head. "I never understood why they see you as nothing but a pest." He sighed. "You and doves are very similar, practically the same." He rambled on.

He told himself he was doing it to keep the bird calm, but he knew he was lying to himself. The bird likely wasn't very conscious at this point, with only a few minutes left. It was a harsh reminder of the reality of life: all living things have an end.

He prayed his end would be just as gentle.

The bird seemed to struggle to breathe at points, drawing a "Shh, rest little one," from Kurt. The other pigeons had paid no mind this entire time, pecking away at the treat he had sprinkled on the cement for them.

"You and I are one and the same, did you know that?" His smile was bitter sweet. "Left behind by your own people." His mind wandered back to Germany, to home. How people there cast him out, the countless insults hurled at him. How he too scrounged for bread crumbs on the streets. He fed the birds there too, even if he didn't have enough to fill his stomach, he always shared with his fellow cast outs. They deserved a meal as much as he did.

The end was near for the bird, its breathing slowing. "You can rest now, freund." Kurt whispered. "You're not alone, I promise you. Not only am I here, but so is He."

The bird's breathing stopped, becoming fully limp in his hands. A part of Kurt ached, if he hadn't been here the creature would have died alone, on the steps of the church. On second thought, he chalked it up to God purposefully doing this.

"I wish I understood You." He muttered to himself, "but perhaps that was the sin of Adam and Eve."

He slowly rose, little friend in tow, and soon smoke and the stench of brimstone was left in his place. He teleported not too far off, into the thin woods behind all the buildings of the city. He scanned the area for a decent spot of soft soil. Beneath a withering tree, he found it. With one hand, he slowly clawed out a hole, about a foot deep and only a football in size. Gently, ever so, he lowered the pigeon into the soft dirt.

Kurt pulled his rosary from his pocket, clutching it tightly as he bowed his head, praying. He was still for a moment, the silence of the wilderness, a harsh juxtaposition to the city, filled his ears. He then carefully scooped the disturbed soil over the small grave.

"You will be missed, little one, but you can rest now. You don't need to struggle any longer." He murmured.

Another puff of smoke, and he was behind his friends once again.

Scott took notice, especially with that all-too-familiar smell. "Kurt!" He said, a warm smile crinkled his nose. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know," Kurt began, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. His smile was forced a little, his mind still lingering on what just occurred. "Up to no good." He managed to chuckle.

No one thought anything of it, and continued on with their day of shopping. When they returned to the institute, Kurt mentioned his feathery friend in his nightly prayer before rolling into bed.

#x-men #xmen #nightcrawler #kurt wagner #kurt wagner nightcrawler #fanfic #xmen fanfic #x-men fanfic #fan fiction #my work #tw animal death #animal death

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scotianostra · 1 month ago

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On October 16th 1516, Alexander Home, 3rd Lord Home and his brother William were executed in Edinburgh.

It's fair to say that those men who held the title Duke of Albany, have been involved in some of the most troublesome intrigue in our long history, the first one, a ruthless politician, was brother of King Robert III and was widely regarded as having caused the murder of his nephew, the Duke of Rothesay, this in turn forced the King to send the future James I to France in 1406, but was captured by pirates and "sold" to the English and held for 18 years, his ambitious uncle ruled as King in all but name until his death in 1420, when the next his son Murdoch, took over as Duke and regent, James I was eventually released in 1425 and Murdoch inevitably lost his head after being found guilty of treason.

Jump forward about 90 years and just after James IV died at Flodden, John Stewart, the latest Duke of Albany took over as Regent to James V was another of the boy Kings, I mentioned in my post earlier about James II.

Lord Home led his horsemen were part of the Scottish force that fought at Flodden, and was one of the few successful charges of that day, his men defeated the right wing of the English army, it's a pity other tactics went horribly wrong. As the battle progressed and the Scots were being slaughtered Lord Home fled the field, he did however stay on in Northumbria and attempted, unsuccessfully to to recapture the taken Scottish artillery some days later.

This story seems to be more about two men who disliked each other than anything else.

Although accepting Albany as Regent things started to go sour when the two had a meeting at Dumbarton Castle, where legend has it, Albany joked about Lord Home's small stature, quoting 'minuit praesentia famam' meaning 'the appearance doesn't live up to report.' Their relationship deteriorated and it seems Home tried to garner influence in England, possibly hoping to seek refuge there, sensing things were not going to end well with the new Regent.

In September 1515 Albany forcibly took Hume Castle, and ordered Home to meet him later that year at the Collegiate Church at Dunglass, where he was arrested and imprisoned at Edinburgh Castle. The keeper of the castle at the time was the Earl of Arran and Home's Brother in Law. Home persuaded Arran to escape with him and take up arms against Albany, they joined another rebel, the Earl of Angus in the Borders.

Moving North they attacked Glasgow capturing ammunition and throwing it down a well, they then headed east and to Dunbar, attacking the castle there and heading south again captured the Chief Herald, the Lord Lyon King of Arms at Coldstream holding him ransom for his mother who was a prisoner of one of Albany's lieutenants.

After offering a pardon, Albany invited Home and his brother William to Holyroodhouse, where he promptly arrested the pair, imprisoning then on the fortified island of Inchgarvie on The Firth of Forth.

Initially they were accused of the trumped charges of the murder of James IV at Flodden, then of failing to prevent English re-fortification at Norham Castle after the battle.

Finally he and William were charged with rebellion against Albany and beheaded, and their heads displayed on the gable of Edinburgh Tolbooth.

In the mid 1520's Albany was overthrown from the Scottish regency, and lived mainly in France until his death in 1536.

The pic is model of the Old Tolbooth exhibited in Edinburgh's Huntly House Museum. The execution platform can be seen projecting from the building. The second pic is a painting by Scottish artist Henry G. Duguid of the Tolbooth and St Giles.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #execution

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thethief1996 · 1 year ago

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Here's a list of upcoming events in support of Palestine:

ALBANY, NY (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, West Capitol Park, Washington Ave and S Swan St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4E2xxJT54/

ANTWERP, BELGIUM – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Sint-Jansplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7z0ZnN1uT/

ATHENS, GREECE – Sun Oct 29, 11:30 am, Metro Evangelismos. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8bhiMIoDh/

AUSTIN, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyyrpZnJC3_/

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Sonnendeck im Westpark, Gleisdreieckpark

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Hermannplatz

BILBAO, BASQUE COUNTRY – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Bihotz Sakratutik. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716646197162773&set=pcb.716637363830323

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND – Sun Oct 29, 12:30 pm, Barclays, High Street. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8eCTNophn/

CAERNARFON, WALES – Sun Oct 29, Maes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

COLORADO SPRINGS, CO (US)– Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Colorado Springs City Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy36OhUPtP7/?img_index=5

DEN HAAG, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Malieveld. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzFb9pI5rX/?img_index=3

DENVER, CO (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Colorado Capitol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy58qQALzp4/

DERRY, IRELAND – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, Free Derry Corner. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy79d9EsLxp/

DURANGO, CO (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4:30 pm, Buckley Park, 12th St and Main Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy36OhUPtP7/?img_index=6

EDMONTON, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Churchill Square, march to Violet Henry King Plaza. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6l5kEyKBp/?img_index=1

EINDHOVEN, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 6:15 pm, Silent March. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CywSp76ouui/?img_index=1

FORT LAUDERDALE, FL (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, 299 East Broward Blvd (Federal Courthouse). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3sBHsJfzz/

GHENT, BELGIUM – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Stadshallen. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7z0ZnN1uT/

GRANADA, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, Jardines del Triunfo. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cys_3qPoXw0/?img_index=1

HOUSTON, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6iXjigiN9/

LAS VEGAS, NV (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, 333 S Las Vegas Blvd. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3edR_L_sE/

LEEUWARDEN, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Stationsplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy8gvdBobZ8/

LISBON, PORTUGAL – Sun Oct 29, 3:30 pm, Martin Moniz Square.

LONDON, ON (CANADA) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Western University. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy9CGDkOpCK/

MADRID, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Atocha. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6H79nqVGD/

MAO, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 6 pm, Pl. Esplanada. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=716646140496112&set=pcb.716637363830323

MCALLEN, TX (US) – Sun Oct 29, 5 pm, Archer Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzQ_WfRrkC/

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm , State Library. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxBu-GB068/?img_index=7

MEMPHIS, TN (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, FedEx Forum to Tom Lee Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7O9BJuL32/

NASHVILLE, TN (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4:30 pm, Fred D Thompson Federal Bldg, 719 Church St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7llxyu8Tq/

NEWARK, NJ (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, 920 Broad St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6OjhnuA3e/

NEW PLYMOUTH, NEW ZEALAND – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, The Landing. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3y_7RJ-7J/

NURNBERG GERMANY – Sun OCt 29, 3 pm, Kornmarkt

ORLANDO, FL (US) – Sun Oct 29, 5 pm, Orlando City Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzKXS5sl6f/

OTTAWA, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Parliament Hill. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6bAGfRmGM/

PERRYSBURG, OH (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, 10576 Fremont Pike. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy7XWqSN6q7/

PHILADELPHIA, PA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, City Hall West Side. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy045GWrQuk/

PISCATAWAY, NJ (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, MCMC, 1000 Hoes Lane, Drive for Palestine. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4WRLHu3jccM1saN9BFQdHx1aGEMrbaPNE5wY0/

RALEIGH, NC (US) – Sun Oct 29, 4 pm, Moore Square, 201 S Blount. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4IwhURhSO/

SALZBURG, AUSTRIA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, Neue Mitte Lehen. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxsStRMTyE/

SALINAS, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 noon, Boronda and North Main. Info: https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2023/10/23/18859834.php

SAN JOSE, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, SJ Ciy Hall, 200 E Santa Clara St. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4pO7Org29/

SANTA ROSA, CA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 11 am, Old Courthouse Square, Third Street.

SCRANTON, PA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Lackawanna County Courthouse

ST. JOHN’S, NEWFOUNDLAND (CANADA) – Sun Oct 29, 1:30 pm, Harbourside Park.

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 29, 1 pm, Hyde Park North. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyxBu-GB068/?img_index=10

TORONTO, CANADA – Sun Oct 29, 2 pm, US Consulate, 360 University Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy0-N2-JpO0/

VALENCIA, SPAIN – Sun Oct 29, 12 pm, Placa Reina. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy0KUQIq-jl/

WATERBURY, CT (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3 pm, City Hall. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1715808265508048&set=a.124168471338710&type=3&mibextid=cr9u03

WORCESTER, MA (US) – Sun Oct 29, 3:30 pm, Worcester City Hall. Info: https://masspeaceaction.org/event/protest-with-justice-for-all-in-worcester-stand-with-palestine/

CLEVELAND, OH (US) – Mon Oct 30, 5 pm, 601 Lakeside E. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy6D8RogwWT/

ESSEX, ENGLAND – Mon Oct 30, 6 pm, Square 2-5. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy81di8oy9N/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

IRVINE, CA (US) – Mon Oct 30, 7 pm, Ring Road by Langston Library, UCI. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy17TjfJBFV/

LAS VEGAS, NV (US) – Mon Oct 30, 11 am, Free Speech Walkway, UNLV. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3ae38rkGe/

MANHATTAN, KS (US) – Mon Oct 30, 6 pm, Triangle Park. Info: https://actionnetwork.org/events/palestinian-liberation-rally

TROY, NY (US) – Mon Oct 30, 5pm, Riverfront Park. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=309545841705829&set=a.177000064960408

TUFTS UNIVERSITY (US) – Mon Oct 30, 11:45 am, Lower Campus Center. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4OXa7LIty/?img_index=1

FORT WAYNE, IN (US) – Tues Oct 31, 5 pm, Allen County Courthouse. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/638151171839892/

[BIDEN WILL BE HERE!!!] MINNEAPOLIS, MN - Wed Nov 1. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4n_chs1q_/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D

SAINT PAUL, MN - Every Friday, 4-5 PM, Corner of Snelling and Summit Ave.

ABERDARE, WALES – Wed Nov 1, 5:30 pm, Library. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

OXFORD, ENGLAND – Wed Nov 1, 5 pm, Manzil Way to Bonn Square. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cyv-w5wIK4_/

SEVILLA, SPAIN – Wed Nov 1, 7 pm, Plaza Virgen de los Reyes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716671617160231&set=pcb.716637363830323

SHEFFIELD, ENGLAND – Wed Nov 1, 1 pm, Sheffield Town Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy3H3HPsJPp/?img_index=1

ST PAUL, MN (US) – Fri Nov 3, 4 pm, Snelling and Summit Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy4oFPTMVzq/

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sat Nov 4, 2 pm, Neptunbrunnen to Alexanderplatz. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5tpQAsx0J/

BURLINGTON, VT (US) – Sat Nov 4, 1 pm, Battery Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5_1OCuoWw/

ROME, ITALY – Sat Nov 4, Rome. Info TBA: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyndKUitnMU/

SANTIAGO, CHILE – Sat Nov 4, 11 am, desde el GAM. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy59hQiu411/

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA – Sat Nov 4, 1 pm, 32 Mugyo-ro, Jung-gu, Seoul. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5cGxOpSCA/

WASHINGTON, DC (USA) – Sat Nov 4, 2 pm, Freedom Plaza. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyiecRtr9-B/

ZARAGOZA, SPAIN – Sat Nov 4, 6 pm, Glorieta Sasera to Plaza del Pilar. Info: https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=716671587160234&set=pcb.716637363830323

BARRY TOWN, WALES – Sun Nov 5, 12 pm, King Square. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

CAERNARFON, WALES – Sun Nov 5, 6:30 pm, Maes. Info: https://www.facebook.com/groups/303482486838722

STUTTGART, GERMANY – Sun Nov 5, 3 pm, Schlossplatz

VALLEKAS, SPAIN – Sun Nov 5, 12 pm, Metro Buenos Aires. Info: https://twitter.com/IUMadridRetiro/status/1718229817366044883/photo/4

Feel free to add more!

#save gaza #free palestine #gaza under attack

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gracehosborn · 5 months ago

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What's the itinerary? 👀

Hi, Anon! Happy to share.

My dream American Revolution trip itinerary, just including my must-sees, and a rough idea of transportation (still working on food stops and slipping in other points of interest):

Day 1:

Early morning flight to Boston, MA

Stay in Boston for 3 nights, 4 days

Rental car for Day 2 and 3

Boston Massacre Site

Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum

Bunker Hill Museum and Monument

Old North Church & Historic Site

Day 2:

Paul Revere House

Lexington Battle Green Tour, Lexington MA

Drive from Boston

Old North Bridge, Concord MA

Drive from Lexington

Day 3:

Adams National Historic Park, Quincy MA

Drive from Boston

General Nathaniel Greene Homestead, Coventry RI

Drive from Adams NHP

Day 4:

Early morning train/bus to Albany, NY

Stay in Albany 2 nights, 3 days

Rental car for Day 4 and 5

Saratoga National Historical Park, Stillwater NY

Drive from Albany

Fort Ticonderoga, Ticonderoga NY

Drive from Saratoga NHP

Day 5:

Schuyler Mansion tour

Washington’s Headquarters State Historic Site, Newbrugh NY

Drive from Albany

John Jay Homestead, Katonah NY

Drive from Washington Headquarters Newbrugh

Day 6:

Early morning train from Albany to New York City, NY

Stay in New York City for 4 nights, 5 days

Hamilton Grange National Memorial

Morris-Jumel Mansion

Day 7:

City Hall Park

Federal Hall

Fraunces Tavern Museum

Trinity Church & Cemetary

Day 8:

Museum of the City of New York

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Day 9:

Van Cortlandt House Museum

Central Park

New York Historical Society Museum & Library

Weehawken Dueling Grounds/Hamilton Park, Weehawken, NJ

Take ferry to and from

Day 10:

Train/bus to Princeton, NJ

Stay in Princeton 2 nights, 3 days

Rental car for Day 11

Princeton Battlefield State Park

Day 11:

Monmouth Battlefield State Park, Manalapan, NJ

Drive from Princeton

Morristown National Historical Park, Morristown NJ (Includes: Ford Mansion/Washington’s Headquarters, Schuyler-Hamilton House, Jockey Hollow)

Drive from Monmouth Battlefield Park

Day 12:

Early train/bus to Trenton, NJ

Old Barracks Museum

Washington Crossing Park, Washington Crossing, PA

Train/bus from Trenton

Train/Bus from Washington Crossing to Philadelphia PA

Stay in Philadelphia 3 nights, 4 days

Rental car for Day 15 and 16

Day 13:

Independence Hall

Liberty Bell Center

First Bank of the United States

Carpenter’s Hall

Day 14:

Museum of the American Revolution

Elfreth’s Alley Museum

Day 15:

Valley Forge National Historical Park

Drive from Philadelphia

Moland House (Washington Headquarters), Warwick Township PA

Drive from Valley Forge NHP

Peter Wentz Farmstead (Washington Headquarters), Lansdale PA

Drive from Moland House

Day 16:

Cliveden of the National Trust (Chew House)

Drive from Philadelphia

Brandywine Battlefield (park), Chadds Ford PA

Drive from Cliveden

Afternoon or evening train from Philadelphia to Alexandria, VA

Stay in Alexandria for 2 nights, 3 days

Rental car for Day 18

Day 17:

George Washington’s Mount Vernon

Train/bus from Alexandria, VA

National Archives Museum, Washington DC

Train/bus from Alexandria, VA

Day 18:

James Madison’s Montpelier, Montpelier Station, VA

Drive from Alexandria, VA

Evening train from Alexandria to Williamsburg, VA

Stay in Williamsburg 2 nights

Day 19:

Colonial Williamsburg

Day 20:

Yorktown Battlefield

American Revolution Museum at Yorktown

Train/bus/taxi from Williamsburg

Day 21:

Fly from Williamsburg to Charleston, SC

Stay in Charleston for 4 nights, 5 days

Rental car for Days 22-24

South Carolina Historical Society Museum

Day 22:

Savannah History Museum, Savannah GA

Battlefield Park Heritage Center, Savannah GA

Drive from Charleston

Day 23:

Cowpens National Battlefield, Cowpens SC

Drive from Charleston

Eutaw Springs Battlefield Park, Eutawville SC

Drive from Cowpens

Day 24:

Magnolia Plantation and Gardens

Mempkin Abbey (site of Laurens family graves)

Day 25:

Fly home from Charleston SC

#my real challenge is finding someone to go with me #fun part about being visually impaired is you can’t legally drive #amrev #trips #road trip #the american revolution #american revolutionary war #new england #dream travel #traveling #18th century history

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angusbyrne · 7 months ago

Text

ANGUS BYRNE ( CALLUM TURNER ) is a THIRTY-THREE year-old SENATE STAFFER in WASHINGTON, DC. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only FIFTEEN years old. They are known as THE PROTECTOR because they are VIGILANT but also CONTROLLING.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Angus Peter Byrne

Nickname(s): His little brothers would call him Gus, but he would not appreciate anyone else using it.

Date of Birth: September 23, 1971

Age: 33 (almost 34!)

Occupation: Legislative Director for a U.S. Senator

Current Residence: Washington, DC. (Albany part-time for work reasons)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’2”

Notable Features: Beautiful long nose, freckles, slay cheekbones, sticky-outy ears, generally fae face

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: Detail-oriented, loyal, professional, protective, diplomatic, and cultivated.

Weaknesses: Stubborn, insensitive, strict, invasive, secretive, and manipulative.

Quirks: Always popping Advil and Tums (tummy ache survivor <3), carries an expensive fancy lighter with him, always wears an expensive watch, has glasses but wears contacts every day because God forbid anyone sees him wearing them when he’s not prepared, used to bite his nails so they’re cut short, misophonia sufferer!!!

Vices: Brandy, expensive cigars, his personal art collection (which he doesn’t display in his home)

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Fine art & art history, expensive spirits, expensive cigars, expensive cars, architecture, politics, law, boring WWII books and docos, etc.

Hobbies: Making meticulous lists, going to the gym, boxing, cooking, reading Agatha Christie novels (not that he’d admit it…), watching old film noirs, going to his tailor lol, other individual sports like golf and tennis, being boring/invisible/not drawing unnecessary attention to himself, etc.

Special Skills/Talents: Lyinggggg <3 and he grew up taking a lot of music lessons at his dad’s behest so he’s got a pretty good singing voice (church choir experience) and plays the violin.

MISCELLANEOUS

Pinterest I / Pinterest II

Playlist (vibes version -- because Angus primarily listens to his white noise machine)

BECOMING A WARD

The Byrnes resided on a large, sprawling property in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains of northeastern New York – not too far from Woodrow House. There, they kept sporadic hobbyist farm animals – goats, miniature horses, pigs – that didn’t produce much but a means for Angus’ mother, Maren, to spend her time and keep busy (Marie Antoinette’s pastoral ideal vibes). Angus’ childhood was lush and green, filled with fresh air, fairytale books, and skinned knees from wrestling with his two younger brothers Malcolm and George; it was also marked by being the lesser-favorite son, and the only one who ever caught a glimpse in his adolescence at the extent of what his father did for work. Spoiler alert: it was, at times, not totally above board.

It was through work that his father, Peter, met Richard Woodrow. Peter Byrne was by and large an antiques and art dealer and owned a gallery outside the city. Their business dealings were totally, definitely, absolutely above board (I mean, as far as Richard knew – so that must be true, right?). Richard became close with Peter, first in a professional setting and then later personally. Their holidays mingled; they visited each other’s homes; the Byrne brothers called him Uncle Richard soon thereafter. Angus came to be one of Richard’s wards after his family was involved in a car accident – he was the sole survivor. When Angus was orphaned, Richard stepped up and brought him into his care to honor the Byrnes.

LIFE AS A WARD

Very few fellow Wards experienced what Angus was like when he first came to live at Woodrow House. For the first few months, he was rude, agitated, paranoid, and combative. He accused the House’s staff of stealing, moving, or just touching his things; he didn’t want anyone near his room for days at a time; and he punched more than one hole in his bedroom wall (not that he advertised that fact to anyone beyond Richard and Mrs. Tristan; Angus learned to hide the products of his frustrations quite well). But then, suddenly, one day a switch flipped. Though things remained a little tense with Richard, from that day forward, Angus was outwardly neat and well-mannered – and all up in the other Wards’ business.

Going forward, he took the role of a pseudo-kinda-big-brother seriously and always did what he could to help the other Woodrow House residents and did what he thought was best for them, even if that meant frustrating some of them in the process. He wears a mask of his own face – boring, straitlaced, and stiff – and that is how most of the Wards know him. Still, that agitated, argumentative energy thrummed under his skin, like he’d gone full circle and speedran the spiraling anger and swallowed it whole so it made its home in the center of his chest – waiting for its moment to bubble back over. It's a good thing he always had a punching bag.

AESTHETIC

Angus is very well-dressed and has taken a page out of Richard’s book so that the most casual he’s ever dressed are classic Brooks Brothers and Ralph Lauren fits. 75% of the time he’s in a suit, honestly, or in a semi-deconstructed suit (not wearing a tie, first couple buttons undone, jacket on and sleeves rolled up, etc). He has carefully controlled curly-ish hair, which he keeps in check with product. His hair is basically only out of place when he’s at the boxing gym. Regarding signature accessories, Angus wears the crucifix he had received for his Confirmation from his mom a few months before she died and is always wearing a watch from his extensive collection (something also inspired by Richard, who gifted him his first). Ultimately, Angus’ goal is not to stand out. He does not wear bold colors or loud patterns; he does not try to look different from any other suit in D.C. The more inconspicuous he is, the better.

EDUCATION

Angus was due to attend a boarding high school about 4 hours away from Woodrow House when he first became a ward. The year he was taken into Richard’s care, he instead spent his freshman year in a homeschool environment on Woodrow House grounds, but when the next year rolled around he insisted that he return to what he considered a proper school. Angus finished high school at a nearby private Catholic school in upstate New York, about a 45-minute to 1-hour commute from the house. After he graduated, he attended Georgetown University in Washington, DC. where he majored in PoliSci. After completion of his Bachelor’s, he attended and graduated from Yale Law School.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Sports-wise, Angus primarily took up boxing and was on the wrestling team at school. He very casually dabbled in tennis. In a more creative realm, as a kid, his dad had all of his sons taking music lessons, so Angus also continued his education in violin at Woodrow House. He’s not fantastic but he was in the school orchestra all through high school.

THEIR LIFE NOW

Since leaving Woodrow House, Angus began a career in politics. From starting as an intern for a State Representative to an advisor and manager for various politicians, a legislative assistant, and now the Legislative Director for a US Senator. And that's where his climb up the ladder is going to stop (!!).

A couple of years after college, everything seemed easy-breezy all things considered until someone came knocking at his door. Literally. They were a former affiliate of his dad’s… and they weren’t happy. Since then, for about a decade, Angus has had to contend with various loose ends re: his now-deceased father’s business, only slugging through it all because of the the promise of an end to all the business dealings altogether somewhere on the horizon. The world of art and antique dealing wasn’t always squeaky clean, that was for sure, and Angus kept that side of his life extremely under wraps – for both his safety and his sanity.

He lives alone in a DC townhouse, which has been gutted and cleanly modernized inside. Slick, shiny surfaces and no personality: just the way he likes it. In Albany, he keeps an equally clean, modern, and personality-less one-bedroom apartment. You can sense a theme here and the theme is boring. His romantic life has always been defined by the seemingly endless line of blonde Ashleys, Ambers, and Christinas that are getting their Master's at GW or working in marketing. None of those relationships seem to last very long. That is also just the way he likes it.

IRT to the other wards, Angus tries to keep in contact with most if not all of them. He wants to see all of them on a good life track – happy, healthy, successful (not jobless or directionless), the whole shebang. Historically, he's known for keeping tabs, hovering a bit, keeping track of their friends, reaching out to them regularly, offering to be a reference for work, offering to help get them a job (preferably closer to where he lives), etc etc. He’s fought their battles for and with them, championed them, and stood up for them (and also talked down to them and judged them and fought with them…)

So Angus doesn’t appreciate radio silence and he doesn’t appreciate disrespect when he’s trying so hard and is so committed to, in his way, taking care of the Wards. So though he has plenty of experience in this role so far, that doesn’t mean he deals with those frustrations super well. If you're on the same page as him re: what's good for you, then most of the time things are pretty fine and dandy, but if you're not, well. I'm sure quite a few disagreements have cropped up... but he just really really cares. Just, you know… don’t tell him it may be all deeply rooted in anxiety because that would be sooooo annoying for him.

#wrhq.intro

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46ten · 7 months ago

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I was just learning the fact that Cornelia and Kitty fought Eliza for the inheritance, I knew her brothers did it but I didn't know about the sisters. I was surprised because they seemed to be close with her before their father's death. I know Kitty and EH reconciled because they became closer in later years, but what was her relationship with Cornelia? Did Cornelia die still fighting for the inheritance or did they reconcile? And in general how all of this affected Eliza's relationships with her siblings? (I wonder how AH would have helped EH in all of this if he were alive. Perhaps PH would have named him as one of his executors of his last will)

The dispute between Eliza and her siblings seems to have grown out of what they felt was over-generosity towards her from Philip Schuyler's attempts to financially assist her after AH's death. There were rumors of him giving her cash, and then there was the matter of the land deed executed before PS's death.

[So without AH dying, I doubt the dispute would have happened. And yes, I think AH would have been one of the executors of PS's will had he been alive. The three executors were Philip Jeremiah Schuyler (his son), JB Church (son-in-law), and Stephen van Rensselaer (former son-in-law/Margarita's widower).]

Specifically, when EH went up to Albany in August 1804, PS set in motion a plan to give her a land deed of 80 acres of his property in Albany - he notes in letters in July/early August/September how much he wants to assist her and her children by whatever means possible, emotional and spiritual support, but also financial support.

The paper deed was executed but not delivered to her, however, before she returned to NY and prior to PS's death. As such, some of her siblings argued that the 80 acres deed was null and the property should be counted towards the inheritance for all 8 children (or their children, as two of PS's kids were already dead - Margarita and John Bradstreet) and split. This is what led to the fight with Caty/Kitty and Cornelia's husbands, as EH is clear in a letter to her brother Philip Jeremiah that she believed her brothers'-in-law, G. Washington Morton (married Cornelia 1796) and Samuel Malcolm (married Kitty 1803) were behind this effort. To be clear, EH fought that the 80 acre deed should be hers exclusively; took about 5 years to resolve, but it was and she sold it, as she especially claimed to need the money to pay for her children's education. Read more here: Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site: Schuyler Siblings Land Squabble

Cornelia died in 1808, and it's not clear where their relationship stood, as the issue was still unresolved at the time. They were clearly still tight in Nov 1804, prior to PS's death: The Eliza Papers — Elizabeth Hamilton to Philip Schuyler, 1804 (tumblr.com). To read my posts on Cornelia and her terrible husband (Philip Schuyler disliked him! So he lost a bunch of PS's papers! ), see here: 46ten — How not to behave at Philip Schuyler’s home (tumblr.com); 46ten — Schuyler elopements (tumblr.com)

To read more about Kitty and Samuel Malcolm, who had been John Adams' secretary, see here: 46ten — Sister Church is still with us. She goes in less... (tumblr.com); 46ten — 46ten: Kitty, who is looking over my shoulder,…... (tumblr.com) 46ten — Philip Schuyler, described by his youngest... (tumblr.com); 46ten — Philip Schuyler to Elizabeth Hamilton, 1797 (tumblr.com)

Cornelia (b 1776) and Kitty (b 1781 - she would have been named GW Schuyler if a boy! or so claimed PS in his letter to GW, likely part of an attempt to assuage any ill feelings over his brand new son-in-law pulling the stunt he had, which AH also would not have pulled if PS wasn't his father-in-law) knew 'Brother Hamilton,' as they called him, their whole lives and were very close to him. Both girls spent time living with the Hamiltons in Philadelphia and NYC. They also had children named Alexander Hamilton Morton (b 1800) and Alexander Hamilton Malcolm (b 1815), respectively, so it doesn't seem that their husbands objected to EH and her husband all THAT much, but once money is involved....

See some speculation on the relationship between EH and Kitty here: Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site: My Dear Sister: Eliza and Caty Post-Schuyler Sisters Land Squabble

To the rumors that PS had given EH thousands of dollars, that seems very unlikely, as he was notably cash poor. But over the years, PS undoubtedly supported the Hamiltons financially, providing them not only with goods from his farms and mills, but cash to EH for paying for the boys' education (particularly while AH was Sect of Treas, which makes AH's efforts to make sure bonds were funded pretty self-interested - there's quite a lot of "I'm not benefiting!" while his closest family and friends, many of whom provide him funds outright, or provide him with goods, or give him interest-free loans, are benefiting handsomely.)

Some of the siblings could have been resentful, not only of PS's support but of his general favoritism towards the Hamiltons - see here for PS sending his son Rensselaer to live with the Hamiltons to learn from their good example: 46ten — Philip Schuyler to Elizabeth Hamilton, Albany,... (tumblr.com). But PS seems to have helped out all his kids - or at least once he reconciled himself to their poor choices in spouses - EH may have been the only one who chose a spouse PS approved of from the beginning! He saved timber for the Churches to build a home, provides funds and property to his sons, etc.

Post PS's death, EH's relationship with her brother Philip Jeremiah, for example, seems fine The Eliza Papers — Philip J Schuyler (tumblr.com), she's just admonishing him for not doing more to help her resolve the claims and points out that people are talking about how little help her brothers - PJ and Rensselaer - are providing, considering how much the Hamiltons' friends have stepped up to help her.

The other matter that persists between the siblings was much older - the division of the estate Catharine Van Rensselaer had inherited (parts of the Claverack) - which was a legal fight practically from the time AH joins the family, and one in which he offered advice. There's definitely "when is that every going to be settled!" angst between the siblings so they can finally resolve the matter of their mother's inheritance.

#Philip Schuyler #alexander hamilton #elizabeth schuyler hamilton #cornelia schuyler #Catharine VR Schuyler Malcolm #Rensselaer Schuyler #Philip Jeremiah Schuyler

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fatehbaz · 2 years ago

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Walk down Washington Street in Lower Manhattan between the Battery Parking Garage and Albany Street, and you’ll see virtually no signs that this area was once home to one of the largest communities of Syrians in the United States. Groups [...] have worked tirelessly to preserve the three remaining buildings [...] that stood during the heyday of New York City’s “Syrian Quarter,” or Little Syria. [...] From 1890 to 1940, Little Syria stood as the mother colony to Syrian and Lebanese communities across the United States. The three-block radius around Washington and Rector was home to newspapers, magazines, restaurants, jewelry shops, banks, barbers, grocers, churches, a mosque, record stores. [...] This was the Mahjar, America’s Arab diaspora. [...]

Tucked within these streets were three Arab American record labels -- Maloof Phonograph Company in the 1920s and 1930s, A.J. Macksoud’s Phonograph Company from the 1910s to the 1930s, and Alamphon Records in the 1930s and 1940s -- now among the most recognizable to record collectors.

---

These labels filled an important cultural gap -- by the 1920s, the US’ two big phonograph record companies, Victor and Columbia, cut back on recording and selling Arab music. And while companies like Beirut-based Baidaphon recorded Syrian and Egyptian musicians and sold their records at home [...]in the early 1900s, by the 1910s that was changing. Mahjari musicians in the United States began to record music themselves, for mahjari audiences.

The music that New York City’s mahjari artists performed from the 1910s through the following 30 years included recorded poems, folk songs from the homeland and original compositions telling of loss, love, [...] and favorite foods from home; the names, tunes, beats and rhythms connected them to their roots and shaped their nostalgia for what they had left behind. There was much to miss, even before leaving what was then known as Ottoman Syria: today’s Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Palestine. The region’s silk industry and other trades were in decline. Political instability and poverty were on the rise. Thousands of former Ottoman subjects soon found themselves in New York City, Boston, Detroit. [...]

---

[T]he performing and literary arts movement that gripped Egypt and Greater Syria during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. That movement was the Nahda, the Arab Renaissance.

The arrival of immigrants from Greater Syria coincided with a boom of gramophone machines, phonograph cylinders and flat-disc records.

And as Arab musicians in Cairo and Beirut recorded music throughout the 1890s and 1900s, thousands of miles away in Little Syria a precocious Alexander Maloof began composing and publishing music for the piano. [...] From a young age, Maloof listened to traditional Arabic music such as mawwal, Arab folk music forms such as the ataaba, and experimented with fusing these with American marches, fox trots, and ragtime.

Meanwhile, by 1907, 29-year-old musician Abraham J. Macksoud, now using the moniker A.J. Macksoud, opened a phonograph record store in Little Syria. [...] Columbia and Victor had already begun to record the songs of mashriqi musicians back home [...], but as late as 1911, no Arab or Ottoman immigrant to the US had recorded specifically for a mahjari audience. That was about to change.

---

On 24 July 1913, Alexander Maloof, now a well-accomplished songwriter and composer, recorded the piano solo B 13834-1, #17443 Al-Ja-Za-Yer (“Algeria”) for the Victor Talking Machine Company. With Maloof's song, Mahjari musicians had now found a home for recording their music. [...]

The number of Syrian Muslims to emigrate to the United States remained relatively small during the first wave of emigration from 1880 to 1941. Still, in 1916, Columbia recorded one of only a few Syrian Muslim immigrants, Mohamed ZainEldeen. Born in Homs, Syria in 1892, ZainEldeeen arrived in New York in May 1912. By the fall of 1916, he had cut seven songs on six double-sided discs for Columbia [...]. As the number of Arab immigrant and Arab American musicians grew on Columbia and Victor’s rosters, A.J. Macksoud moved and opened two new record shops at 52 Broadway and 89 Washington Street. [...]

---

The 1920s marked the era when Victor and Columbia lost their monopoly on lateral-cut recording technology, but it is also the period they slashed efforts to record and issue new Arabic-language music. To fill in the gaping hole left in the industry, [...] pianist and composer Alexander Maloof established his own record label. He kept up a break-neck pace appearing on radio, running his record label, composing songs and selling sheet music to publishers.

In October 1923, Maloof finally recorded his “Egyptian Glide” and a second track, “Pharaoh,” on his label’s pressing company, Gennett Records. And despite its long hiatus of recording Syrian American artists, in 1926 the Victor Talking Machine Company even brought Maloof back into the studios, this time with his larger orchestra, to record “Desert Wail” and “Kurdistan.” [...]

On his self-titled label, Maloof recorded former Victor recording artist Ilyas Wardiny, who became one of the label’s most popular singers. [...]

---

Farid Alam al-Din (anglicized Fred Alam) founded the last of Little Syria’s record labels. For years, historians, ethnomusicologists, and even the most experienced scholars presumed Maloof and Macksoud shared the position of Washington Street’s only Arab American record labels headquartered in the heart of Manhattan.

But as the Great Depression saw Maloof and Macksoud shut down their labels by 1935, Fred Alam opened his store and launched his Alamphon Record label from 81 Washington Street.

---

By then, Little Syria as a whole was already in some form of decline. Whether Alam bought out A.J. Macksoud’s inventory or launched his store anew, a 1935 newspaper article read:

"The Syrian quarter of the town, which for years boasted one of the country’s greatest rag centers, has practically vanished. What remains is in Washington Street down by the Battery. One of the best known is Alfred Alam’s Oriental gramophone record shop. Alam’s phonograph record business is perhaps the only business of its kind not diminished by the radio. [...]”

Little Syria’s Nile Restaurant and the Son of the Sheik restaurant commanded special attention, as did Alfred Alam’s shop. The paper noted “the piles of Egyptian and Syrian Phonograph records at A. Alam’s store. [...]” And yet, that same article also reported the changes that would soon mean Little Syria’s demise, as development and urban renewal programs took hold in Manhattan's Lower West Side.

The construction of the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel in the 1940s meant the destruction of the tenements that once housed thousands of new immigrants and Syrian Americans. The buildings that contained many of the community’s businesses and meeting places steadily disappeared, never to return. [...]

Few traces remain, except the music records that subsequently scattered across the US, from owner to owner.

---

Text by: Richard M. Breaux. “Songs of nostalgia in New York City’s long-lost ‘Little Syria’“. SyriaUntold. 5 March 2021. Article part of SyriaUntold’s ongoing series on Syrian music. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

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brighttears · 1 year ago

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Battery V Jump

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

No physical description

Summary: You reach Albany, but get ambushed not far into the city. Joel escapes, but you wake up tied to a chair with a battered Tess next to you. You handle it before Joel finds you and you escape. You rest in a church before finding somewhere to spend the night.

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: Violence: capture, threats of torture and SA, death (of the captors); reader almost dissociates, readers wrists get scratched up

A/n: wooo new chapter!! more mean characters… not a lot of romance in the chapter ngl but next chapter there will be i promise

—

Naturally, you act like nothing happened last night, like your current worldview wasn’t just shaken like a snow globe. You did, however, expect that maybe Joel would be a bit friendlier now, but alas, he’s even colder than he has been, much less of a bite, and you surprise yourself with how much you miss the banter. He says almost nothing as you pack up and hit the road, burying his nose in the map.

You’ve graduated from farmland to small town suburbs, and within a few hours, you’re at the bridge finally connecting you to the city of Albany.

Greenery warps and hangs around the barrier separating the road from the sidewalk, carpeted with moss, and the curved fence edging the bridge. You weave around cars, jammed and abandoned from when people tried to flee the city. You keep your eyes fixed straight ahead, avoiding the clothed skeletons hanging out of car windows and whatever other casual horrors are laid out on the highway.

“This is the Hudson.” Joel comments as you cross over the river.

“No shit.” You quip without really thinking about it. Tess glances back at you and chuckles.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d learned that in school yet.” Joel returns.

“How fucking old do you think I am?” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Young.” He retorts, then looking back ahead, signaling that the exchange is over. You huff but say nothing.

It’s back to silence as you continue, all of you focused on this new environment. As you cross into the city, Joel digs the map back out, skimming his finger along possible routes.

“We’ll find route 90, a bit further into the city, then find 88 and follow that out of New York.” He announces.

“Alright. I’m trusting you with these directions,” Tess says, glancing back at him.

“Well, you should.” He replies.

“I’m just fine following blind,” you droll.

“Good, cause ain’t no one’s takin’ directions from you.” Joel bites, and you look back at him with a slight smirk.

“I know you aren’t.” You look back ahead at the oncoming city, “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Not much of a ride,” Tess remarks, “maybe we can find a car somewhere around here, though. One that actually fucking works, I mean,” she kicks a busted fender.

“Maybe a shop somewhere.” Joel adds.

“That would be grand.” You say, earning an annoyed look from Joel. You smile to yourself, playing around with the piece of information you have held invisibly over his head.

“Alright, kids,” Tess says dryly as you come to a circular crossroads of the highways past the river, “time to shut the fuck up for awhile. We don’t know this place, what to expect. Which way’re we going, Joel?” You both look back at him and he nods his head to your right, folding the map to tuck under his arm.

“We’ll follow 5 for a while, that’ll take us to 90.”

“Roger that.”

You walk again in silence for a long while, observing the city. Joel leads the way, you and Tess following from his sides.

“Plenty of hotels. Tourist city, I guess.” Tess comments after a while.

You point out, “I thought we were supposed to shut the fuck up?”

“I said you two shut the fuck up. Unless you can learn to get along.” She says it with a look to Joel, and you bite back a smile. He gives her a harsh look back, and she has to hide her own smile. They both think you’re in the dark here, and you relish in the secret. You still have no fucking clue what to do about it, if you’ll say anything or wait for him, if he even does ever bring it up. Regardless, you don’t have room to worry about it right now, which you are also appreciative of. You feel optimistic about the city, plenty of places to dig through, and, as Tess said, maybe a soft bed to sleep in at some point, maybe even a car.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Tess says, “Holy shit, an auto shop,” pointing down the road. Sure enough, only a few yards away from you is a Firestone, a few cars still left in the lot with large open garage doors revealing all sorts of tools and supplies in the shop behind them. You let out a laugh of relief, almost not believing your eyes.

“Maybe we can fix up one of those cars,” Joel says as you walk into the lot, “get back on the road.”

“Fuck yeah,” you say as you cross into the garage

“Keep it down,” Joel tells you in a hushed tone, unholstering his gun as you move in, “we don’t know what’s in here yet.”

“Sorry.” You reply, though a smile stays on your face. This might be your second lucky break in a week. A garage full of tools, with plenty of cars ready and waiting for Joel’s handywork.

Just as the three of you come to the middle of the shop, a harsh screeching sounds behind you and you turn, expecting Infected, but it’s the garage doors slamming shut, trapping the three of you inside. Before you can react, your attention comes back to in front of you as your shirt is pulled into someone’s fist, and you watch helplessly as a fist hurtles towards your face.

—

A sharp pain echoing through your sinuses awakens you, and you groan before opening your eyes. You roll your head forwards from where it had been hung back, making the pain worse, groaning again.

“Good morning, princess,” sings a voice you don’t recognize, and your eyes shoot open. A tall, spindly man stands before you, hands behind his back, leaning over you with a wide, toothy smile. As soon as you see his eyes, fear tears through you like an icey knife. They’re a very light blue, showing off blown out pupils, but despite the color, they're deathly dark. This man is a monster, you can already tell. You try to move, but realize that you are tied to a chair, and he laughs as you struggle in your seat. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and and your heartbeat whips, each crack pitching every muscle against the tight, coarse ropes binding your hands behind your back and your ankles to the feet of the chair.

“Oh, calm down, sweetheart,” the man drawls, straightening, still with that predatory smile. The only light comes from through some glass behind you, windowing daylight over his face.

“What did you do with them?” You demand.

“Who? Oh, your friends? Well, if you’d look to your left,” he moves his eyes with the lazy hand rolling a pointed finger to the side of you.

The sight when you turn your head widens your eyes and a chill runs through you. Tess is tied to a chair next to you, her head hung with her chin touching her chest, eyes closed, blood running down from you can’t tell where on her face.

“Tess!” You scream, then your head swings to the other side with a sharp slap to your cheek.

“Shush, shush, little girl.” The man tells you, suddenly in front of your face, his composed tone lilted by irritation. From his voice, you can tell that he is a man that enjoys torture, who will sing a song as he does it. Someone with a calm demeanor but with vibrating rage just below the surface. He is someone that thrives in these times, where he is free to do as he pleases, a predator released from the zoo. “None of that will do you any good. If you’re too loud, we’ll just kill you, and I don’t want to do that.”

“What do you want to do?” You seethe through your teeth, feeling the wrath pulsate through you. You twist your wrists behind your back, using the stinging pain to keep you focused. Don’t panic. Pay attention. Stay sharp. Learn him. Look for weak spots, vulnerable positions, timing. How are you going to get Tess out of here? Where will you run to? How will you get out? Looking past him, you observe that you’re still in the auto shop, the rusty tools lining the walls and cluttering the work bench against it. A perfect shop for people like him and his crew, being the two other men stood behind him. One is tall and buff, leaning against the workbench. The other stands straight up beside him, short, the kind of skinny where muscle far outweighs fat, wearing a wide, tight smile, wide eyes trained on you. He reminds you of a hyena.

“Where is the other one?” You ask.

“Oh, your other friend? Well, he’s the one that got away. Ran for his life, that friend of yours is a coward, you know. Left the two of you alone, left you for dead. Some friend, huh?”

He’s lying. You don’t doubt that for a second. If they’d captured or killed him, there’d be no reason to hide that from you. So where is he? What is he doing? You say nothing, considering which angle you should play. You don’t know enough yet.

“Is she dead?”

“Who, that one? No, I don’t think so.” He snaps his fingers to the men behind him and points to her, “Check.” You watch largest man, buff arms covered in tattoos and scars, come to her and lift her head up by her hair, making you clench your teeth, and hold a finger under her nose before letting her head drop back down. “Breathing.” He reports.

“See? She’s fine. Maybe a little roughed up, but no, not dead.”

“What do you want?” You keep your tone as even as you can, but the question comes through teeth that won’t unclench.

“What do I want? Well, I used to say a million bucks, but that’s not very useful anymore, is it?” He cackles, leaning his head back with it, and you see the teeth in his mouth, big and perfectly straight. The view makes you feel like a small animal, and your heartbeat ricochets around your chest, splashing in fear doused in rage’s gasoline. “Aw,” he drawls, catching his breath, “well, I want everything you have.”

“Why not just fucking take it then? Why the fuck do you have us tired up?”

“Well, because that’d be so boring. I want to have some fun,” he grows a wide smile, though his eyes don’t move with it. A cold finger starts a line from your throat up to your chin, and then he clamps his hand on your cheeks, squishing your face. “If you know what I mean.” He lets your face go, but not before brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. You do know what he means. You say nothing. He wants you to swear at him, insult him. Struggle. You need to draw this out.

“So you guys just camp out here all day just waiting for someone to roll through?” You start, “Sounds pretty boring. This must be like Christmas for you guys, huh?” You look around at the men about the room—three here including the man still leaning over you, the buff man who touched Tess has an assault rifle hanging over his shoulder. The hyena has no weapon visible, but that is no comfort; he’s not trying to show off his threat, but he’s not hiding it, either. He looks like he wouldn’t even need one, he’d just jump on you like a fucking monkey and strangle you to death with his bare hands, screaming the whole way through.

“Another smartass, huh?” The main man says. He’s obviously the ringleader, and his slight frame indicates that he must be much smarter than the rest, a natural born cult leader, minus the numbers. “Well, that’s ok. Once I pull all your teeth out, that won’t be a problem.” He starts laughing heartily again, as if what he said is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. The rest of them chuckle. These people are unhinged. What used to be reality is a distant dream that they are happy to have woken up from, and the apocalypse has fried their little brains.

How the fuck are you gonna get out of this? If only Tess would wake up, help you cause a distraction, have another person to up your chances of overtaking them. Where the fuck is Joel? You’re sure he’s ok. Like you said, there’d be no reason for them to hide it if he wasn’t. But what is he doing? You don’t doubt he’s trying to find a way in. But how long until then? How much time do you have?

Your wrists sting as you wring them against the rope, what must be blood starting to wet your palms. As you twist, the rope loosens, only slightly, and you still your movements.

Start talking. Buy time. Create a chance to take. Pray that Joel is working some plan out somewhere outside, pray that Tess will wake up, and pray that they want to drag this out.

“So what, you want a blowjob?” You start again, “Tag team? Or do you all want to have a little incest orgy? Granted you’re not all already some inbred family. Maybe explore a little guy on guy action?” You throw affronts out, wanting to get them uncomfortable. Distract them with an onslaught of insults, get them pissed, riled up, but distracted. While they fume and think of methods of revenge, you’ll find a chance. The other ones will get up, start coming towards you, looking at all the different places on your body they’ll hurt you, and you’ll free your wrists, push whoever’s front and center as hard as you can to topple the rest of them. And then—shit, what about your feet? You wriggle your ankles at the thought, but they barely move with how tight they’re tied. You’ll need time to untie them. If you could grab that gun, take them out in one sweep. Yes, that’s how you’ll do it. “You know, it’s never too late to explore your sexuality.” The faces of the men farthest back start to twist as you goad and you hold back a smirk. Many men are still predictable in this way, being accused of liking other men only a step below insulting their mothers. “I mean, sure does get lonely out here. Can’t be that many women coming through here.”

“Shut up, bitch,” the ringleader spits, slapping you again, hard enough for you to taste iron. “Enough women come through for us to have a little routine with them,” he starts to chuckle, though not as casual as it was before. Already, you’re getting them going, and the other three start to move forward with twisted smiles. You’re surprised at how well your plan is working. “First, we’ll let you talk a bit. If someone screams, we crush the throat. You both have been real quiet though, eh? Curious. Anyways, then we take out the teeth, like I mentioned. Makes the rest much easier on us.” Ringleader licks his lips, leaning towards you again. Grown out, greasy hair falls over his eyes. He smells like rust and mildew. They must live here in this garage, like rats. Rat King suddenly seems like much less of a deal than he did in Boston. Right now, you almost miss him.

“Come on, come on,” Hyena speaks up from the back, jumping on his toes. “She’s right, it’s been awhile since we’d had someone in here. I’m—”

Ringleader swings his head to him, “Shut the fuck up.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll lock you in the fucking back.”

Hyena stills and quiets, though his teeth grind behind spread lips, that wild look in his eyes now trained on the man as he turns his attention back to you. Yes. The loose cannon. He hates him. You wonder if you could find the right words to get him to attack him. Now that would be something.

“You lock him in the back?” You half laugh, “Like a dog? Jeez, man, that’s pretty harsh. What, is he like your pet?” Hyena’s wide eyes are trained on you now, expressionless as he continues to grind his teeth.

“Alright, can we shut her up now?” The buff man speaks up, walking up you with a stony, desensitized expression. He looks at you like you’re meat—not even that, like a doll. Your blood boils, but fear still runs through it.

Joel, please god, please, where are you? Help, please, help us, there’s too many. I’m fucking scared Joel, please. I can’t fucking carry Tess out of here. Where are you? Are you coming?

“Already?” You reply, looking between them. “I was just starting to get to know you guys. What about you?” You look at the largest man, “I’m surprised you’re not the one in my face right now. You look like you could easily take control. You don’t even need the gun. How come you’re taking orders from this guy?” Another hard slap, and you feel blood dribbling down your chin. You keep your head to the side for a moment, looking for anything close by, anything on the ground you might be able to use, but there’s nothing. Then your face is in his hands again, burning pain pounding up to your temples as you stare back into those light but dead eyes.

“You think you’re so smart? You think you’re so cute? You think you’re tough? Well, not for long, pretty girl.”

“Can we just get those fucking teeth out of her head now?” Hyena speaks, sounding like an inpatient child.

“Shut the fuck up—” Ringleader looks back at him, still gripping your cheeks firmly.

“No you shut the fuck up,” Hyena suddenly exclaims, grabbing the pliers on the bench next to his hand, “before I rip your fucking teeth out! Your fucking teeth out!”

“Calm the fuck down—”

“You calm the fuck down, you calm the fuck down!” “Jesus fucking christ, you’re gonna call every fucking Infected in this town over if you don’t quiet the fuck down,”

“Your fucking teeth out, your fucking teeth out!” Hyena continues to exclaim. God bless a loose cannon, god fucking bless a loose cannon.

Ring leader lets go of you, approaching Hyena, “Give me the fucking plyers, ok? Her teeth, her teeth ok?”

Big man is turned towards the other two now, his gun hanging over his shoulder. Yes. Yes. Yes. Now!

You rip your wrists free, grabbing hold of the gun to slip off of his arm. “Hey,” he says, but before any of them are even fully turned around, you get a grip and open fire, and they all drop to the floor.

You have to stop yourself from continuing to fire once they’re down, sitting with it held in your hands, breathing hard. Chills run unrelentingly up and down your body. A groan sounds from your side then, and you look at Tess trying to lift her head up.

“Tess!”

“Wh—hh–” she groans, finally getting her head to turn to you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. Her left eye is swollen shut, eyebrow and lip both split, the skin of her cheeks all red. “It’s ok, Tess, hold on, they’re dead, I just gotta get out of this chair, and then I’ll get you out of here,” you rattle, dropping the gun to start pulling at the ropes around your ankles.

A harsh banging from the very back of the shop snaps your head up. “Shit,” Tess hisses as another bang sounds, and your heart squeezes fast beats in your chest. Please be Joel. Please be Joel. Please be Joel.

The metal door in the back swings open, you can see a silhouette that is, in fact, Joel.

“Joel!” You cry out, surprised at the desperation coming out of your throat. He rushes in, wide eyes on the bodies as he comes into the shop.

“Get Tess! Get Tess!” You tell him as you continue to untie yourself, watching his wide eyes flip from you to her. He stares with frantic eyes, lips parted, before rushing to her. He kneels in front of Tess, looking between the ropes tying her ankles to her face wordlessly. As soon as you free yourself, you stumble over to work at her bound wrists.

“What the fuck happened?” She rasps out, audibly drained. You have no idea what happened while you were out.

“You got knocked out,” you tell her, heart still drumming, “they woke me up, I don’t know, I just fucking, I handled it, they’re dead.”

“Where the fuck did you come from?” She asks Joel.

“Broke in through the back. I had to find a way through the fence, the top was barbed.” He explains, obviously trying to hide how distraught he is, seeing the state that Tess is in, and maybe you, too.

“Fucking took you long enough. Oh, Jesus,” she groans as the two of you bring her to her feet. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assures the both of you, shrugging off your assistance.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I—” Joel attempts, but Tess cuts him off.

“Save it for once we’re fucking out of here.”

You all rush out the back, Joel leading while you trail behind a struggling Tess. Thankfully, you catch sight of the weapons that were removed from you, grabbing them up with one arm as you leave. The back lot is mostly empty, the fence, as Joel said, lined by large, circled barbed wire. Too big to climb over.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” You ask Joel as you hand Tess her gun and knife. He looks back at you still with those panicked eyes, then motions to a spot near the edge, where the barbed wire is ripped aside. You look back to Joel and notice that the back of his jacket is shredded. He must have used his jacket to rip it away. He ripped the barbed wire apart.

As you come to it, Joel looks at you and cocks his head up at it. “You first.” You climb the fence and drop down, Tess coming over after, followed by Joel.

“Where the fuck do we go?” Tess asks, trying to cover up her flustered state.

“This way.” Joel answers, then starts with quick steps down the road. He leads you to a church just across the street, slipping through both sets of open doors, then shutting them behind you. You all have your guns raised and ready, but the tiny church is empty. You move through to the back room, also empty. Once the building is cleared, you all come back to the safety of the open chancel, setting yourself down on the short steps at its edge.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, finally looking at your wrists, still streaming tight trails of blood from the scratches left by the ropes.

“Damn, you tore yourself up,” Tess comments, looking down at them as you hold yourself back from rubbing the injuries.

“Well, it worked.”

“I am curious about how the fuck you did what you did. I was out cold, I have no fucking clue how you took them all out alone.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “I’ve got a silver tongue.”

“What, you convinced them to hand their guns overor something?” Tess probes, brow furrowed up with a perplexed smirk. Joel’s face is almost the same. You forgot that you really haven’t known each other that long, they have yet to see you in real action. About time you’ve proved the extent of your worth.

“No, I got them to fight each other, then snatched the big fucker’s gun. Just got lucky that the ropes on my wrists weren’t tight enough.”

“Damn, golden girl. You impress me more every day.” Tess chuckles, rubbing her ankles as she sits. “Your face doesn’t look too bad either. I guess I got a little cocky about my way with words. Only got them pissed enough to want to knock me the fuck out. Try out the other toy.”

“What’d they do to you?” Joel says, hard voice startling you. He looks at you with his eyes slightly squinted, looking like he’s ready to go kill the already dead bodies.

“Not much,” you respond, unsure of how to look under his gaze, “slapped me around a little, threatened me, that’s it.”

Joel huffs a breath. He looks like he wants to ask, but at the same time, knows he doesn’t want to know exactly what they threatened to do.

“I don’t know about you two,” Tess cuts in, “but I am about done for the day. Seeing as this place’s clear, let’s just… rest here for a minute.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” You agree. Joel nods.

“Alright.” She sighs, looking around, “I’m gonna go dig around in the back and see if there’s any blood of Christ left behind.” She stands, looking around again before heading towards the back room, leaving you and Joel alone on the steps.

You’re too tired to even worry about the awkward silence, simply sitting in the stillness, hoping Tess does find something in the back that could help calm your still running nerves.

“You alright?” Joel eventually asks.

“Yeah.” You reply without looking up. You’re alive and intact, so, alright enough.

“Are y’… are y’ sure?” His tone is unsure, and you look up. His brow is furrowed, puppy dog eyes digging into you, fingers fidgeting where they rest over bent knees.

You pause. Suddenly, the whole thing between you and Joel comes back to you—what he said last night, the private conversation that Joel doesn’t know you heard.

“If you uh…” he speaks again, though you’re only half listening, caught up with his face and the words from last night swirling around it. “Wanna, uh…” he scratched his eyebrow, eyes flicking down and then back, “talk ‘bout it, or somethin’…” he trails off, gaze timid.

“That was scary.” You answer unthinkingly.

Joel shifts. “Yeah, I bet.”

Something flushes through you then, what must be the adrenaline, leaving only the fear behind. You begin to shake. Those bright blue eyes are in front of you again, that snake’s grin.

“…I want to have some fun…”

“…Anyways, then we take out the teeth… Makes the rest much easier on us…”

“…Your fucking teeth out, your fucking teeth out!”

“You’re shakin’,” Joel says.

“I am?” Dazed, your voice is much quieter than you expected.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” Your voice shakes as you look down at your equally discomposed hands. Sticky blood colors them, wiped from the jagged, shallow slices covering your wrists. “Shit.”

“We better get those cleaned up.” Joel says, standing, but you don’t move. He rests his hand gently on your shoulder, and you look up to meet an expression so soft it catches you off guard. He still looks unsure, but genuine sympathy paints his features. “Come on, lemme help you.” Slowly, you stand, eyes locked on him. Gentle. “Come on,” he urges quietly. You nod. He keeps his eyes on you for a moment as he leads you back down the nave. You try to blink yourself securely into the present, shaking the echoing threats out of your head.

They’re dead. Gone. No longer a danger. You are in a church, following Joel, who wants to help you. Tess is in the back. She is safe. Everything is ok. It’s over.

For now.

“Here,” Joel says, stopping at the font at the back of the pews, a large bowl resting on a plain wood pedestal. You peer into the water, staring at your reflection.

“Probably not that clean, but, it’s somethin’.” Joel speaks, and you look at his reflection next to yours. He catches your eyes within the pool and then holds the gaze. “Here.” He says, and you look down as he gently takes your wrist in his hands, lowering it into the water. It stings, but you don’t move. Joel softly rubs his fingers over your wrist, then over the palm of your hand, clearing away the blood. Light orange blooms over the water. He lets that hand go to take your other into the water, doing the same to wash them clean. The soft sounds of the water echo around the walls.

This is the most gentle you’ve ever been handled in maybe the entirety of your life. Despite the size and strength of his hands, Joel’s touch is farther light as he smooths his thumb along the creases in your palms. His breath is in your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, standing so close. His arm brushes against yours and as you watch him clean your wounds in the shallow pool.

“Alright,” he nearly whispers, letting your hands go. You raise them from the water, using your shirt to dry them slowly. Joel stands before you, lips parted as if he’s meaning to say something. You consider telling him right now, that you heard what he said last night. That he’s not just ‘some old man’, that Tess is right, and that the feelings aren’t unrequited. That there was something about him since the moment you saw him, even with the way he looked at you then. Tell him about that spark you felt the first time you touched. That you want to follow him just as much as you want to follow Tess. That you wished you knew him before, and that you want to know him now. That you hope you know him for a long time.

“Hey,” Tess cuts through your thoughts, and you both turn to her at the other end of the church, calling out, “No luck, the blood of Christ has turned to vinegar. I say we stay here and eat, then we go back out, find somewhere to stay the night. Dusk’s gotta be close by now.”

“Alright.” Joel says, turning his feet away from you and looking down.

“Yeah.” You reply, now getting a good look at Tess as she comes in front of you. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah I bet I do. Is it as bad as it feels?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, moving closer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you as you gently use your finger to turn her face, checking over the damage. “Well, I’m sure you know that your eye is swollen shut. That’ll last a day or two. Split on your eyebrow and on your lip. Bruised as fuck. Anything feel broken?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Arlight, good. Mostly aesthetics, then.”

“Except for the temporary blindness, you mean?”

“Except for the temporary blindness.” You chuckle.

“Well, you look much better than I do. Split lip, split bridge, but your nose isn’t broken.”

“Sorry.”

Her brow pinches, “Why are you sorry?”

“That, you know, you got it worse than I did.”

Tess chuckles, “Well, you got us out of it while I was out, so no apology necessary.”

“You did a good job back there.” Joel says, and when you look back at him, you can tell he means it, not even a hint of sarcasm on his face.

“Thanks.” You reply quietly, attempting a light smile.

“Alright, I am fucking starving.” Tess announces, sitting down with a groan to unpack some food from her pack.

You eat in silence, all much hungrier than you realized, though Tess eats slowly, chewing with obvious pain.

“You know, I could chew that up for you, spit it back into your mouth like a bird, if you want.” You tell her.

She looks confused for a moment as a smirk spreads over her lips, chuckling, which then erupts into full laughter. Joel reacts just about the same, and then you’re all guffawing, the sound echoing through the church.

“That’s fuckin’ gross,” Joel laughs, feigning disgust.

“No it’s not,” you reply, “it’s utilitarian.” He just shakes his head, still laughing. You shrug, smiling, “Just offering.”

“You know,” Tess says then, “I’m really glad you’re here. And not just because of that shit you pulled back there.” She smiles at you, and you smile back.

“Me too.”

You glance up at Joel, catching a soft, genuine smile, but once caught, he drops his gaze to the ground. The look on his face tells you he feels the same, but why hide it? You look down at your own food, submitting back into the silence.

After you’ve eaten and caught your breath—more like felt like you could breathe and think straight again—you decide to walk along route 5 for a while until you find a residential area instead of forking off another way to find somewhere closer.

After a while of walking, watching the day turn to dusk, you finally reach a string of houses. You stop at the first closest to you, all ready and hoping to be truly done for the day. The house is two stories of dark brick, ivy covering up nearly the entirety of the side of the house, with a row of long dead flowers lining the steps up to the porch. The front door is surprisingly unlocked, allowing you the privilege of having a door to lock behind you. You’re all stanced with your guns and flashlights at the ready as the door creaks open, Joel leading with you tailing. The inside is all dark wood and wallpaper, looking like it was furnished in the 70’s. It’s designed in a way that tells you that this was a two person household, black and white pictures of a couple aging from prom to a wedding day. The house is neat, not like many others which appear to have been torn through both by a fleeing household and ransackers later on. It makes you uneasy as you climb the second floor, expecting the worst in a bedroom, but you find it just as neat as the rest of the house. You let out a breath, lowering your gun as you check around the room. More black and white pictures, an open jewelry box on the dresser, and tall wooden wardrobe next to a large, square shaped window.

“Clear,” you hear from somewhere else on the top floor, reminding you to respond with the same. You walk back into the hallway to meet Tess and Joel, all three of you reholstering your guns once in sight of each other.

“There's clothes in here,” you report, looking at Joel when you say, “you can replace that jacket.” He looks back at you, obviously having forgotten the state that its in, so you clarify, “The back is of yours is fucking shredded.”

Tess, looking confused, steps behind him to look, and ask, “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Oh, uh, the barbed wire.” He replies.

“What do you mean, the barbed wire?” She questions.

“I used it to tear a hole in it.”

“You tore a fucking hole in the barbed wire? That’s what that was?”

“Yeah.” Joel answers shyly.

“Jesus Christ, Joel.”

“Pretty hardcore.” You say to him, smirking.

He tries not to hide a smile and weaves around you into the bedroom.

“‘Hardcore’. I like that.” Tess smirks back at you as she follows Joel.

The wardrobe is filled with clothes of an old couple, women’s options, to both you and Tess’s dismay, nothing but boxy, flowered dresses. The men’s clothes are much more practical, old but sturdy looking jeans, plain t-shirts, and a few different jackets. You choose a thick leather one, as does Joel, while Tess takes the tan suede jacket that suits her incredibly well. All the shirts are just about Joel’s size, but you and Tess can make due with them fine. All three of you keep your jeans, none of you fitting this man’s size. The clothes are dusty and old, but still an upgrade.

Once you’re all changed, you join in the living room on the first floor.

“Alright, I’m gonna call the watch order.” Tess announces, “Joel, you’re up first, then me, then you.”

“I don’t need—” you start, objecting to being able to sleep the longest.

“Save it.” She interrupts, “I may look the most fucked up, but however long you spent with those goons has earned you more hours. Alright?”

“Alright.” You submit, feeling like you are now one with Joel, leashed by Tess, though you have no qualms about it. She’s smart, has earned your trust, and you do want to protect her, even though you know she can handle herself fine without it.

She turns to Joel, “Sound good?” He nods. “There’s a spare bedroom upstairs,” Tess continues, looking back at you, “both look good, so your pick.” You nod, very much liking this dynamic. It’s not like she’s ordering you around, you’re all looking out for each other. “Alright, let’s get some sleep,” she concludes as she stands, and you follow her upstairs. She chooses the spare, leaving you to the master bedroom.

You plop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. Once alone, you let the day wash over you, grimacing and running your nails over your scalp. It’s been a long time since you’ve been confronted with something that intense, you can only find the kinds of people you ran into today outside of a QZ. Evil people with free range. You’re not sure whether Infected are worse. At least they aren’t fucking smart, just hungry, all they want is to infect you. Kill you, but primarily infect. People get all sorts of ideas, all kinds of twisted plans, people are creative. You lay back on the bed, then curl into the fetal position, hugging your knees to your chest, and close your eyes. You can’t tell whether you’ll be able to sleep this whole night through or if you won’t be able to get a wink, but you pray it’s the former.

Tess is asleep in the next room over. Joel is downstairs with his gun ready. The house is clear. All the exits have been secured. If anything happens, you will be ready. Always ready. Until then, try to sleep, trying to shake off the horrors, just for a little while.

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warmglowofsurvival · 11 months ago

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#twenty one pilots #twentyonepilots #tyler joseph #2011 #april #april 20 #april ‘11 #april 2011 #ohio #new albany church #NAC #joel kovacs #travis whittaker #columbus #cbus #columbus oh #columbus ohio #OH

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sinceileftyoublog · 2 months ago

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Riot Fest 2024: 9/20-9/22

Rob Zombie

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Yeah, the difference in genres over each of the three days at this year's Riot Fest was as palpable as the heat on Friday and Saturday and the rain on Sunday. No worries, though: Riots come in all shapes and sizes, styles and structures, sounds and spirits. Here were my favorite lucky 13 sets from last weekend.

Drug Church

Even though it was the hottest part of the day, Drug Church vocalist Patrick Kindlon repeated one main request throughout the Albany post-hardcore band's set: "Fucking move." The crowd obliged, enamored with the way Nick Cogan, Cory Galusha, Chris Villeneuve, and Patrick Wynne's crunchy grungy sound complemented Kindlon's hoarse scream. Whether Drug Church was playing old songs, like Cheer highlight "Unlicensed Guidance Counselor, rife with Mascis-esque guitar squalls, or the high-pitched bounce of "Myopic" from the quintet's upcoming PRUDE (Pure Noise), fans moshed and crowd surfed. What route they exactly took was often based on humorous instruction from Kindlon, thick New York accent and all: "This one's not for the circle pit; it's for coming over the barrier," he clarified before "Million Miles of Fun". Best, it's not like he was giving demands from a throne. Kindlon himself was probably worse off than anyone in the crowd, having declined sunscreen and worrying about forgetting the words of new song "Slide 2 Me". "The band has a pact," he said before they closed their set with "Weed Pin". "Even if I get attacked or have a stroke on stage, they don't stop." With dedication like that, it was easy for the rest of us to bring the energy.

Drug Church's Patrick Kindlon

Sum 41

"Thank you for putting up with our stupid bullshit," Sum 41 singer Deryck Whibley said to the crowd during the middle of a cover of Queen's "We Will Rock You". Yes, the band who is calling it quits, who had every opportunity to play a deep cut for the diehard fans, used one of their twelve songs in their hour-long slot on a breakneck pop punk version of maybe the most recognizable rock song ever. The choice and its ensuing performance was Sum 41 in a nutshell: earnestly moronic, surprisingly technically deft, ultimately undeniable. Though their most recent and last-ever album Heaven :x: Hell (Rise) is strong, they played only its spritely lead single "Landmines", opting instead to burn through their underratedly massive back catalog of hits, replete with pyrotechnics, Dave Baksh and Tom Thacker's tit-for-tat lead guitar interplay, and Frank Zummo's massive double kick drums. The crowd ate it up, jumping up and down to the rhythmic bounce of "Underclass Hero" and "In Too Deep" and singing along to every word of "Fat Lip". By the time the band got to their final song, "Still Waiting", Whibley requested no more fire, wanting to connect with the crowd: "Just us, you, and the music." He didn't mention lights, though, so who was he kidding? As soon as the chorus hit, strobes chaotically moved along to Zummo's drum fills, providing, for the last time, more gloriously stupid bullshit from a band we're all going to miss more than we know.

The Offspring

At what Home Depot did The Offspring get that blow-up skeleton? The California punk band came to Douglass Park to show off their love for the very breakout album that donned a bony buddy on its cover, Smash, celebrating it's 30th anniversary this year. The full album set featured very little banter and a load of piercingly loud sounds: Noodles' razor guitar leads, Brandon Pertzborn's well-done-meaty snares, and of course, Dexter Holland's shrill scream-sing. The band did take a break to show, on the stage's screens, clips from old interviews about the band and Smash, including how, "You gotta keep 'em separated" was sung by a friend of the band, as well as the punk scenes they've been a part of throughout their career. And though Smash still holds up front-to-back, The Offspring recognize that classics, too, can change with time, so they skipped over "Self Esteem" so they could play it at the end of their album set before a three-song encore of later-career tunes. There may not be anything new to say about their best album, so The Offspring have merely decided to give the people what they want.

The Marley Brothers

At the Cabaret Metro stage, Fall Out Boy was lighting off fireworks, and I could audibly hear every snap, crackle, and pop in the distance and see smoke rising from the corner of my eye. Normally, that would bother me, but I was otherwise transfixed by the singers and instrumentalists right in front of me, letting the grooves do the talking. The Marley Brothers, Bob Marley's sons Stephen, Ziggy, Julian, Ky-Mani and Damian, traded off and performed some of their father's hits and deep cuts, like protest songs "Get Up, Stand Up", "Rebel Music (3 O'Clock Roadblock), and "I Shot The Sherriff", the pure "Three Little Birds", and dub masterpiece "Positive Vibration". Their gravel-throated, weary rasp made them dead ringers for their father; the band, backing vocalists, and posse member spending the whole set waving a giant Jamaican flag made the closing set a full-on show, just as deserving of headlining status as the local kids across the park.

The Marley Brothers

Buzzcocks

Few songs on Singles Going Steady pass the three-minute mark, so it was cool to see the Buzzcocks, almost a half-century since they formed, play around with dynamics during their Saturday afternoon set. Sure, you knew what you were gonna get with the slinky bass of "Why Can't I Touch It?" and "Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)", but the band unexpectedly added a big jam and lots of distortion to "Harmony in My Head". Last weekend was their first time back in Chicago since founder Pete Shelley passed away, let alone releasing their first album without him, Sonics in the Soul (Cherry Red), so Steve Diggle got to both pay tribute and show his abilities as full-time lead vocalist. He passed the test, especially on the new tunes like "Senses Out of Control", his echoing, nasal sneer sounding kind of like Bob Mould with a British accent. Just like Mould, Buzzcocks keep growing instead of resting on their laurels.

Buzzcocks' Steve Diggle

The Hives

You know you're getting older when you watch The Hives and think to yourself, "How is Howlin' Pelle Almqvist not perenially injured?" Jumping around on the stage and in the crowd, motion restricted by a fitted suit, seems like a recipe for back problems, or at least plantar fasciitis! Misplaced anxiety aside, watching Sweden's preeminent garage rock revival band continues to reward, almost 25 years after they broke out with Veni Vidi Vicious. The band did play a few tunes from their most recent record The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons (Disques Hives), whose title sees them fully embrace the (probably fictional) supposed sixth member of The Hives who is their manager and sole songwriter. I suppose it doesn't matter who writes their songs--"Hate to Say I Told You So" still rips as a catchy, jump-along anthem with the best of them.

The Hives' Howlin' Pelle Almqvist

Spoon

Move over, Pitchfork: Spoon's presence on the Riot Fest lineup mostly confirms the festival's status as the greatest harbinger of Aughts-era indie rock in Chicago. At 5:30 P.M., most everyone at Riot Fest who once owned the Red Hot compilation Dark Was the Night planted themselves for the night, ready to take in the back-to-back-to-back-to-back of the Austin quintet, St. Vincent, Pavement, and Beck. Though Spoon had their fair share of "punk"-esque moments, like set opener "Got Nuffin", the sharp "The Hardest Cut", and a stellar cover of The Cramps' "TV Set", they were an atmospheric outlier. To play "The Underdog", Britt Daniel brought out an instrument you don't often see on a stage at Riot Fest--an acoustic guitar--which started a run of shuffling and sparkly catalog highlights like "Wild" and "Inside Out". On an unusually hot September day, though, Spoon's laid-back melodies were a welcome respite. "Someone get popsicles, someone do something about the heat," Daniel sang on "Do You". With the pace of their set, he heeded his own call.

Spoon's Britt Daniel

St. Vincent

Perhaps unlike Spoon, these days, St. Vincent's sound has less in common with her early baroque pop days and skews heavily towards the industrial funk of many of her Riot Fest peers. Leading the charge were the songs on her latest album All Born Screaming (Total Pleasure): the noodling "Flea", finger-snapping "Broken Man", trip-hop vibing "Hell Is Near", reggae jamming and propelling "All Born Screaming". The one thing consistent in all of St. Vincent's material, though, is Annie Clark's guitar playing, on-point during her set. Scratchy, funky leads pervaded "Big Time Nothing", "Marrow", "Los Ageless", and "Digital Witness", Clark's unique shredding style just as mighty as the metal bands that would grace the same stage the next day.

Pavement

Though I had seen Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks before, I was psyched to see his undeniably influential primary band live in all of their silly, ramshackle glory. They didn't disappoint; even if they were on a big stage, playing to a big crowd, they still had the air of up-and-comers goofing around, raw in their loud-quiet-loud dynamism on "Cut Your Hair" and psychedelic jamming on "Box Elder". Scott Kannberg, aka "Mr. Spiral Stairs," got to take the lead on his "Date w/ IKEA", while the only person cawing louder than the guy behind me during the chorus of "Unfair" was Bob Nastanovich. The band played their first ever RIAA-certified song "Harness Your Hopes", which, in true Pavement fashion, is not even on a full-length album, and they ended their set with the anti-climactic "Stop Breathin", as if to make a statement to the crowd that they're still the same wonderfully messy band all these years later.

Beck

Beck's live sets are somewhere between Pavement and a band like Nine Inch Nails: pure professionalism, sometimes disguised as spontaneous. During his headlining set Saturday night, his and his band's performances of Odelay untouchables like "Devils Haircut" and "The New Pollution" were no-notes perfect. His retreat into acoustic Sea Change heartbreak sported a beatific, melancholy sheen. Really, it was the songs from his early and later catalog that provided him the most opportunity for the unexpected or the new, whether it was "Girl" trading in its electronic blips for garage surf rock or extended bluesy guitar and harmonica preceding "Loser" and "One Foot in the Grave", respectively. Moreover, Beck's funky tunes hit the hardest live. "E-Pro"'s outro adopted a swinging, metal might, while the unbridled horniness of the Midnite Vultures songs got the crowd moving the most. Yeah, I'm crossing my fingers for a 30-year-anniversary Midnite Vultures set at Riot Fest 2029.

SPRINTS

"I'm like Slayer's gayer cousin," joked SPRINTS lead vocalist Karla Chubb to a crowd waiting out the rain all day to see their favorite metal band's first show since disbanding five years prior. Her words were funny, but they rang true coming from a Dublin band who has more than their fair share of experience forcefully trudging through non-ideal weather. Playing from their great debut album Letter to Self (City Slang), Chubb, Colm O'Reilly, Sam McCann, and Jack Callan gave a masterclass in building tension that exploded into shouted harmonies, heavy guitar and bass, and limber drums.

SPRINTS' Sam McCann

Tierra Whack

Philadelphia rapper Tierra Whack's music is innovative, concise, and moving. It's also absurd at times, which is why I shouldn't have been at all surprised at her DJ's idiosyncratic choice of tunes to pump up the crowd, ranging from the appropriate (Kendrick Lamar's "m.A.A.d. city", Soulja Boy's "Turn My Swag On") to the lovelorn (Paramore's "Still Into You") to the absolutely head-scratching (Coldplay's "Viva La Vida".) As soon as Whack entered the stage, though, it was clear her set was going to contain all of these qualities. Her infectious energy helped the crowd turn up on "CHANEL PIT". In turn, the support of the crowd helped her remain earnest and vulnerable on "SNAKE EYES". I, however, as an appreciator of deft impersonators, was most wowed by the songs that emphasized her throaty, persona-transforming delivery, like "BURNING BRAINS" or Lil Yachty's "T.D", the latter of which proved she's one of the best live emcees in the game.

Tierra Whack

Rob Zombie

Chalk this one as the set of the weekend I was most surprised to enjoy, just because I've never gotten that into Rob Zombie the solo artist, filmmaker, or even member of groove metal legends White Zombie. For one, his ghoulishly muscular voice sounded pristine, tangible amidst the bombast of his stage setup. Live, I really got an appreciation for the hooks of the clubby "What Lurks on Channel X?", brawny "Demon Speeding", and buzz-sawed White Zombie hit "More Human Than Human". Bonus points for doing "Well, Everybody's Fucking in a U.F.O.", which sounds like the best messed up barnyard jam Primus never wrote.

Rob Zombie

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