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pumpkinpaix · 4 years

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Pleeeeeeease get into the class one at some point because I very much want to understand the class dynamics happening in the story but I have yet to find a meta that dives into it

god anon you want me dead don’t you alsjdfljks

referring to this post

okay, so -- my specific salt about class interpretations in mdzs are very targeted. I can’t pretend to have a deep understanding of how class works in mdzs generally because uhhhhh yeah i don’t think i have that. i’m just not familiar enough with the genre and/or the particulars of chinese class systems. but! i can talk in general terms as to why I feel a certain way about the class dynamics that I do think I understand and how I think they relate to the themes of the novel! i’m gonna talk about wei wuxian, the daozhangs, xue yang, and 3zun with, I’m sure, a bunch of digressions along the way.

the usual disclaimers: i do not think you are a bad person if you hold opinions contrary to my own. i may disagree with you very strongly, but like. this isn’t a moral judgment, fandom is transformative and interpretive etc. etc. and i may change my mind. who knows what the future will bring!

OKAY so let’s begin!

here’s the thing about wei wuxian: he’s not poor. I think because characters use “son of a servant” kind of often when they’re trying to insult him, a lot of people latch onto that and think that it’s a much stronger indication of his societal status than it actually is. iirc, most of the insults that fall along the “son of a servant” line come after wei wuxian starts breaking severely from tradition. it’s a convenient thing to attack him for, but doesn’t actually indicate anything about his wealth. (exception: yu ziyuan, but that’s a personal familial issue) this is in direct contrast to jin guangyao who is constantly mocked for his family line, publicly and privately, no matter what he does.

so this, coupled with all the jokes about wwx never having any money (wei wuqian, sizhui’s “i’ve long since known you had no money” etc.), plus his like, rough years on the street as a child ends up producing this interpretation of wei wuxian, especially in modern aus, as someone who is very class conscious and “eat the rich”. but the fact of the matter is, wei wuxian IS rich. aside from the years in his childhood and the last two years of his life in yiling, like -- wei wuxian had money and status. he is gentry. he is respected as gentry. he is treated as a son by the sect leader of yunmeng jiang -- he does not have the jiang name, but it is so very clear that jiang fengmian favors him. wei wuxian is ranked fourth of all the eligible young masters in the cultivation world -- that is not a ranking he could have attained without being accepted into the upper class.

wei wuxian’s poverty does not affect him in the way that it affects jin guangyao or xue yang. he is of low-ish birth (still the son of jiang fengmian’s right hand man though! ok sure, “son of a servant” but like. >_> whatever anyways), but for most of his life he had money. he, jiang cheng, and their sect brothers go into town and steal lotus pods with the understanding that “jiang-shushu will pay for it”. this is a regular thing! that’s fucking rich kid behavior!!! wei wuxian is careless with money because he doesn’t have to worry about it. he still has almost all the benefits of being upper class: education, food security, respect, recognition etc. I think there may also be a misconception that wei wuxian was always on the verge of being kicked out by yu ziyuan, or that he was constantly walking on eggshells around her for fear of being disowned, but that is just textually untrue. i could provide receipts, but I admittedly don’t really feel like digging them up just now ;;

even in his last years in yiling, he was not the one who was dealing with the acute knowledge of poverty: wen qing is the one managing the money, and as far as we know, wei wuxian did little to no management of daily life during the burial mounds days -- mostly, he’s described as hiding in his cave for days on end, working on his inventions, running around like a force of chaos, frivolously making a mess of things -- it’s very very cute that he buries a’yuan in the dirt, but in classic wei wuxian fashion, he did Not think about the practical consequences of it -- that A’Yuan has no other clean clothes, and now he’s gotten this set dirty and has no intention of washing them. is this a personality thing? yeah, but I think it’s also indicative of his lack of concern over the logistics of everyday survival, re: wealth.

furthermore, i think it is important to remember that wei wuxian, when he is protecting the wen remnants, is not protecting common folk: he is still protecting gentry. fallen gentry, yes! but gentry nonetheless. wen qing was favored by wen ruohan, and wen ning himself says that he has a retinue of people under his command (the remnants, essentially). their branch of the family do not have the experience of living and growing in poverty -- they are impoverished and persecuted in their last years, but that’s a very different thing from being impoverished your whole life. (sidenote: I do not believe wei wuxian’s primary motivation for defending the wen remnants was justice -- i believe he did it because he felt he owed wen ning and wen qing a life debt, and once he was there, he wasn’t going to stand around and let the work camps go on. yes, he is concerned about justice and doing the right thing, but that’s not why he went in the first place. anyways, that’s another meta)

after wei wuxian returns, he then marries back into gentry, and very wealthy gentry at that. lwj provides him all the money he could ever want, he is never worried about going homeless, starving, being denied opportunities based on his class and accompanying disadvantages. who would dare? and neither wei wuxian nor lan wangji seem to have much interest in shaking up the order of things, except in little things like the way they teach the juniors. they live in gusu, under the auspices of the lan, and they live a happy, domestic life.

were his years on the street traumatizing? yes, of course they were, there’s so much delicious character exploration to be done re: wei wuxian’s relationship to food, his relationship to his own needs, and his relationship to the people he loves. it’s all important and good! but I feel very strongly that that experience, while it was formative for him, did not impart any true understanding of poverty and the common person’s everyday struggles, nor do I think he ever really gains that understanding. he is observant and canny and aware of class and blood, certainly, but not in a way that makes it his primary hill to die on (badum-tss).

this is in very stark contrast to characters like jin guangyao and xue yang, and to some extent, xiao xingchen and song lan. I’ll start with the daozhangs, because I think they’re the simplest (??).

I think both xiao xingchen and song lan have class consciousness, but in a very simplified, broad-strokes kind of way (at least, given the information we know about them). we know that the two of them share similar values and want to one day form their own sect that gives no weight to the nobility of your lineage and has no concern with your wealth. we also know that they both disdain intersect politics and are more concerned with ideals and principles rather than status. but, I think because of that, this actually somewhat limits their perception and understanding of how status is used to oppress. as far as we know, neither of them participated on any side in sunshot and they demonstrate much more interest in relating to the commoners. honestly, i hc that they were flitting around trying to help decimated towns, protecting defenseless villages etc. I ALSO think this has a lot of interesting potential in terms of xiao xingchen and wei wuxian’s relationship, if xiao xingchen is ever revived. regardless of whether you’re in CQL or novel verse, xiao xingchen really doesn’t know wei wuxian at all, other than knowing that he’s his shijie’s son. he knows that cangse-sanren met with a tragic end, like yanling-daoren before her, and that he wants to be different. but here is cangse-sanren’s son, laying waste to entire cities, desecrating the dead. I would very much like to get into xiao xingchen’s head during that period of time (and i think, if i do it right, i can write some of it into the songxiao fixit), but that’s neither here nor there, because i’ve wandered off from my point again.

i would posit that song lan is used to an ascetic lifestyle, and xiao xingchen probably is too -- but that’s different from poverty because there’s an element of choice to it. I also think that neither of them is particularly worldly, xiao xingchen especially. he lived on an isolated mountain until he was like, seventeen, and he came down full of ideals and naivete about how the world worked. I think that both of them see inequality, that they are angered by it, and that they want to do something about it -- but their solution is neither to topple the sects, nor is it to reform the system. rather, it seems to be more about withdrawing and creating their own removed world. I think that the daozhangs embody a kind of utopianism that isn’t present in the minds of any of the other characters, not even wangxian. honestly, baoshan-sanren’s mountain is a utopian ideal, but one that is not described. it exists outside of and beyond the world. i have a lot of jumbled, vague thoughts about utopianism generally, mostly informed by china miéville and ursula k. le guin, and I don’t think i have the ability to articulate them here, but i wanted to. hm. say something? there is something about the inherent dystopianism contained within every utopia, that utopias are necessary, but also reflections of the existence of terrible things in their conception. idk. there’s something in there, I know it!! but i suppose what I want to say is -- i do not think the daozhangs understand class and social hierarchy very deeply because they don’t see a need to examine it deeply. for their goals, the details aren’t the point. they’re not looking to reform within the system, they’re looking to build something outside of it. I think they spend a lot of time concerned with alleviating the symptoms of social oppression, and their values reflect the injustices they witness there.

regardless, even if their story ends in tragedy and there is a certain amount of critique re: the utopian approach, i think the text still emphasizes that xiao xingchen left a utopia and that he thought that people mattered enough for him to try, and that was an incredibly honorable, kind, and human thing to do.

YEAH SURE THE DAOZHANGS ARE THE SIMPLEST ok ok RETURNING to class and moving forward: xue yang.

i also don’t think xue yang has class consciousness lol, or not in any way that really matters, but I do think poverty impacted him in a much stronger way than it impacted wei wuxian. wei wuxian spent some years on the street as a child. xue yang grew up on the streets. chang ci’an’s horrific treatment of him was directly due to his class and social standing: chang ci’an is a nobleman and xue yang is not even worth the dirt beneath the wheels of his cart. what I think is the seminal point though, is that this does not make xue yang think particularly deeply about systemic injustice, because xue yang is so self-centered, self-driven, and individualistic. he is not even slightly concerned about how poverty and class might affect other people -- they’re other people. what he takes away from his experience is not an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a system, but an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a specific man.

xue yang is not particularly concerned with the politics of the aristocracy -- he has no obvious ambitions other than, “i want to eat sweets whenever i please”, “i want to hurt anyone who wrongs me”, and “i want to be so strong that no one can hurt me”. like, he just doesn’t care -- it’s not the kind of power he wants. he sneers at people for like, personal reasons, not class reasons -- “you think you’re better than me” re: xiao xingchen and song lan. to him, all people -- poor, wealthy, noble, common -- are essentially equal, and they are all beneath him. after all, what does he care what family someone comes from, how much money they have? everyone bleeds when you cut them. some of them might be harder to get to than others, but xue yang does not fear that sort of thing. it’s just another obstacle he needs to vault on his way to getting revenge and/or a pastry.

ANYWAYS onto jin guangyao (wow this is hm. getting rather long ahaha oh dear): I would argue that the two characters with the most acute understanding of class/societal politics and the injustice of them are jin guangyao and lan xichen. i’ll start with jin guangyao for obvious reasons.

where xue yang took the damaging effects of poverty as personal slights, I think jin guangyao is painfully aware that there is nothing personal about them, which is, in some ways, much worse. why are two sons, born on the same day to the same father, treated so differently? just because.

he watched his mother struggle and starve and work herself to the bone in a profession where she was constantly disrespected and abused for almost nothing in return, while his father could have lifted her out of poverty with the wave of a finger. why didn’t he? because he didn’t like her? no -- because he didn’t care, and the structures of the society they live in protect that kind of blase treatment of the lower class.

“so my mother couldn’t choose her own fate, is that her fault?” jin guangyao demands. he knows that he is unbelievably talented, that he has ambition, that he has potential, and that all of it is beyond his grasp just because his father didn’t want to bother with it. his mother’s life was destroyed, and his own opportunities were crippled with that negligence. it isn’t personal. that’s just the way things are. your individual identity is meaningless, your humanity does not exist. when he’s kicked down the steps of jinlin tai, it’s just more confirmation that no matter how talented or hardworking he is, no one will give him the time of day unless he finds a way to take it himself and become someone who “matters”.

jin guangyao’s cultivation is weak because he had a poor foundation, and he had a poor foundation because he was denied access to a good one. he copies others because that’s all he can do at this point, and he copies so well that he can hold his own against some of the strongest cultivators of his generation. he’s disparaged for copying and “stealing” techniques, but -- he never would have had to if only he had been born/accepted into the upper class. the fact is that i really do think jin guangyao was the most promising cultivator of his generation that we meet, including the twin jades and wei wuxian: he had natural talent, ambition, creativity, determination and cunning in spades. in some ways, I think that’s one of the overlooked tragedies of jin guangyao: the loss of not just the good man he could have been, but the powerful one too. imagine what he could have done.

jin guangyao spends his entire time in the world of the aristocracy feeling unsteady and terrified because he knows exactly how precarious his position is. he knows how easy it is to lose power, especially for someone like him. he’s working against so many disadvantages, and every scrap of honor he gets is a vicious battle. jin guangyao fears, and I think that’s something that’s lacking in xue yang, wei wuxian and the daozhangs’ experiences/understandings of poverty. i think it’s precisely that fear that emphasizes jin guangyao’s understanding of class and blood. jin guangyao exhibits an anxiety that neither wei wuxian nor xue yang do, and it’s because he truly knows how little he is worth in the eyes of society and how little there is he can do to change that. to me, it very much feels related to the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow you’ll have something to eat, if tomorrow you’ll still have a home, if tomorrow someone will destroy you and never have to answer for it. it’s the anxiety of knowing helplessness intimately.

moreover, jin guangyao is the only person shown to use the wealth and power at his disposal to take concrete steps to actually help the common people typically ignored by the powerful -- the watchtowers. they’re described in chapter 42. it’s a system that is designed to cover remote areas that most cultivators are reluctant to go due to their inconvenience and the lack of means of the people who live there. the watchtowers assign cultivators to different posts, give aid to those previously forgotten, and if the people are too poor to pay what the cultivators demand, the lanling jin sect pays for it. jin guangyao worked on this for five years and burned a lot of bridges over it. people were strongly opposed to it, thinking that it was some kind of ploy for lanling jin’s personal benefit. but the thing is -- it worked. they were effective. people were helped.

i believe CQL frames the watchtowers as an allegory for a surveillance state/centralized control (i think?? it’s been a minute -- that’s the hazy impression i remember, something like a parallel to the wen supervisory offices?), but I personally don’t think that was the intent in the novel. the watchtowers are a public good. lanling jin doesn’t staff them with their own sect members -- they get nearby sects to staff them. it’s a warning network that they fund that’s supposed to benefit everyone, even those that everyone had considered expendable.

(did jin guangyao do terrible things to achieve this goal? yeah lol. it’s not confirmed, but his son sure did die... suspiciously...... at the hands of an outspoken critic of the watchtowers........ whom he then executed....... so like, maybe just a convenient coincidence for jin guangyao, two birds one stone, but. it seems. Unlikely.)

lan xichen is the only member of the gentry that ever shows serious compassion for and nuanced understanding of jin guangyao’s circumstances. lan xichen treats him as his equal regardless of jin guangyao’s current status -- even when he was meng yao, lan xichen treated him as a human being worthy of respect, as someone with great merits, as someone he would choose as a friend, but he did so knowing full well the delicate position meng yao occupied. this is in direct contrast to nie mingjue, who also believed that meng yao was worthy of respect as a human being, but was completely unable to comprehend the complexities of his circumstances and unwilling to grant him any grace. you know, the difference between “i acknowledge that your birth and status have had effects upon you, but I don’t think less of you for it” and “i don’t consider your birth and status at all when i interact with you because i think it is irrelevant” (“i don’t see color” anyone?)

to illustrate, from chapter 48:

大抵是觉得娼妓之子身上说不定也带着什么不干净的东西，这几名修士接过他双手奉上来的茶盏后，并不饮下，而是放到一边，还取出雪白的手巾，很难受似的，有意无意反复擦拭刚才碰过茶盏的手指。聂明玦并非细致之人，未曾注意到这种细节，魏无羡却用眼角余光扫到了这些。孟瑶视若未见，笑容不坠半分，继续奉茶。蓝曦臣接过茶盏之时，抬眸看他一眼，微笑道：“多谢。”

旋即低头饮了一口，这才继续与聂明玦交谈。旁的修士见了，有些不自在起来。

rough tl:

Probably because they believed that the son of a prostitute might also carry some unclean things upon his person, after these few cultivators took the teacups offered from [Meng Yao’s] two hands, they did not drink, but instead put them to one side, and furthermore brought out snow white handkerchiefs. Quite uncomfortably, and whether they were aware of it or not, they repeatedly wiped the fingers they had just used to touch the teacups. Nie Mingjue was not a detail-oriented person and never took note of such particulars, but Wei Wuxian caught these in the corner of his eye. Meng Yao appeared as if he had not seen, his smile unwavering in the slightest, and continued to serve tea. When Lan Xichen took the teacup, he glanced up at him and, smiling, said, “Thank you.”

He immediately dipped his head to take a sip, and only then continued to converse with Nie Mingjue. Seeing this, the nearby cultivators began to feel somewhat uneasy.

all right, since we’re in full cyan-rampaging-through-the-weeds mode at this point, i’m going to talk about how this is one of my favorite 3zun moments in the entire novel for characterization purposes because it really highlights how they all relate to one another, and to what degree each of them is aware of their own position in relation to the others and society as a whole.

1. nie mingjue, who is a forthright and blunt person, sets meng yao to serving tea and is done with it. he notices nothing wrong or inappropriate about the reactions of the people in the room because it’s not the sort of thing he considers important.

2. meng yao, knowing that his only avenue is to take it lying down with a smile, masks perfectly.

3. lan xichen, noticing all this, uses his own reputation to achieve two things at once: pointedly shame the other cultivators in attendance, and show meng yao that regardless of others’ opinions, he considers him an equal and does not endorse such behavior--and he does it while taking care that no fallout will come down on meng yao’s head.

is this yet another installment of cyan’s endless lxc defense thesis? why yes it is! no one is surprised! but this is my whole point: both meng yao and lan xichen understand the respective hierarchy and power dynamics within the room, while nie mingjue very much does not. this is not because nie mingjue is a bad person or because nie mingjue is stupid--it’s a combination of personality and upbringing. nie mingjue is straightforward and has no patience for such games. but then again, he can afford not to play because he was born into such a high position: that’s a privilege.

to break it down: meng yao knows that he is the lowest-ranked person in the room, sees the way people are subtly disrespecting him in full view of his general who is doing nothing about it. in some ways, this is good -- nie mingjue’s style of dealing with conflict is very direct and not at all suited to delicate political maneuvering. after all, the way he promoted meng yao was actually quite dangerous to meng yao: he essentially guaranteed that his men would bear meng yao a grudge and that their disrespect for him would only be compounded by their bitterness at being punished on his behalf. (it’s like, why often getting parents or teachers to intervene ineffectively in bullying can just be an incitement to more bullying -- same concept) meng yao’s reaction during that scene shows that he’s pretty painfully aware of this and is trying to defuse the situation to no avail. nie mingjue gives him a bootstrap speech (rip nie mingjue i love u so much but. sir) and then promotes him, which is pretty much the only saving grace of that entire exchange, for meng yao at least.

lan xichen, on the other hand, understands both that meng yao is the lowest-ranked person in the room and that any direct attempt to chastise the other cultivators in the room will only serve to hurt meng yao in the long run. he knows that if this were brought to nie mingjue’s attention, he would be outraged and not shy about it -- also bad for meng yao. so he uses what he has: his immaculate reputation. by acting contrary to the other cultivators’ behavior, he demonstrates that he finds their actions unacceptable but with the plausible deniability that it wasn’t directed at them, that this is just zewu-jun being his usual generous self. this means that the other cultivators have no one to blame but themselves, nothing to do but question their own actions. there is nowhere to cast off their discomfort. meng yao didn’t do anything. lan xichen didn’t do anything -- he just thanked meng yao and drank his tea, isn’t that what it’s there for? he doesn’t disrupt the peace, he doesn’t attack anyone and put them on the defensive, but he does make his position very clear.

i know this is a really small thing and i’m probably beating it to death, but I really think this shows just how cognizant lan xichen is of politics and emotional cause and effect in such situations. certainly, out of context I think the scene reads kind of cliche, but within the greater narrative of the story and within the arc of these characters specifically, I think it was a really smart scene to include. it also showcases lan xichen’s style of action: that he moves around and with a problematic situation as opposed to moving straight through.

not to be salty on main again, but this is why it’s very frustrating to me when I see people call lan xichen passive when he is anything but. his actions just don’t look like traditional “actions”, especially to an american audience. it’s easy to understand lan wangji and wei wuxian’s style of problem-solving: taking a stand, moving through, staying strong. lan xichen is juggling an inconceivable number of factors in any given situation, weighing his responsibilities in one role against those in another, and then trying to find the path through the thicket that will cause the least harm, both to himself and the thicket. lan wangji and wei wuxian are not particularly good at considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions -- again, not because they are bad people, but because of a combination of personality and upbringing. they’d just hack through the thicket, not thinking about the creatures that live in it. that is not a terrible thing! it isn’t. it’s a different way of approaching a problem, and it has different priorities. that’s okay. there are advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and where you come down is going to depend on your personal values.

okay we’ve spiraled far and away from my original point, but let’s circle back: i was talking about class.

I think it’s undeniable that class, birthright, fate etc. are some of the driving forces of thematic conflict in mdzs, and the way each character interacts with those forces reveals a lot about themselves and also about the larger themes of fate, chance, and what it means to be righteous and good and how that is and isn’t rewarded. a lot of the tragedy of mdzs (the tragedy that isn’t caused by direct aggression on the part of one group or another) stems from the injustices and slights that people suffered due to their lot in life. it isn’t fair. none of it is fair! we sympathize with jin guangyao because we recognize that what he suffered was unconscionable, even if we don’t excuse him. i sympathize A Lot with xue yang as well for similar reasons, though I understand that’s a harder sell. this is a story focused on the mistakes of an entrenched, aging gentry and the effects that those mistakes had on their children, and a lot of it has to do with prejudice based in class and birth status. whether the prejudice was the true reason or whether it was just a convenient excuse, the fact remains that the systems in place rewarded and protected the people in power who used it to cling to that power. mdzs is also a story of how the circumstances of one’s life can offer you impossible choices that you cannot abstain from, and it asks us to be compassionate to the people who made terrible choices in terrible times. it’s about the inherent complexity in all things! that sometimes, there are no good choices, and i don’t know, i’d like to think that people would show me compassion if I had to make the choices some of these characters did. not just wei wuxian, mind you, every single one of them. except jin guangshan because I Do Hate Him sorry. and i guess wen ruohan. i think that’s it.

good. GOD this is clocking in at //checks notes -- just over 5k. 8′D *stuffs some weeds into my mouth like the clown i am*

(ko-fi? :’D *lies down*)

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theeverlastingshade · 4 years

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Favorite Albums of the 10s

25. Shaking the Habitual- The Knife

The Knife made a name for themselves with their third and most celebrated LP, Silent Shout, but it’s their fourth LP, StH, that pushed their idiosyncratic blend of electroacoustic synth-pop to the furthest, most far-flung places that they’ve gone yet. The record deals with a diverse range of topics from the surveillance state, to fracking, pollution, gender discrimination, and unchecked greed with colorful, ketamine-fused candy cotton synth work and ritualistic percussion. There are long passages of ambience like the menacing build of “A Cherry on Top” dispersed between roaring apocalyptic dance numbers like the astonishing industrial eruption “Full of Fire” and the electro-acoustic freak out “Without You My Life Would Be Boring”. With the exception of the mid-album ambient epic “Old Dreams Waiting to Be Realized” every song on StH justifies its length with consistently engrossing arrangements that sustain their momentum without compromising an ounce of their potency. Everything about the record lives up to its title, from its thematic ambitions, to the breadth of the sonics, pacing, and performances themselves. StH if the full manifestation of the darkness that was lurking beneath the surface of their music from as early as their breakout single “Heartbeats”, but thankfully the music never collapses under the weight of their thematic concerns. Their resilience remains inspiring all these years later, and if Karin and Olof never reunite for a fifth LP we couldn’t have asked for a better send off.

Essentials: “Full of Fire”, “A Tooth for an Eye”, “A Cherry on Top”

24. XXX- Danny Brown

Hip-hop grew to remarkable heights throughout the 10s, and yet there were few rappers that displayed the level of growth and consistency from record to record throughout this past decade quite like Danny Brown. The Detroit native spent the aughts hustling the mixtape circuit, finally catching a spark with 2010’s The Hybrid, his strong debut LP. But a year later Brown returned with his sophomore LP and magnum opus XXX, a twisted rap odyssey that ignited the blogs, and signaled that a new era of hip hop was beginning to emerge. XXX found Brown rapping over an assortment of wonky boom-bap instrumentals courtesy of Bruiser Brigade producer Skywalker that fused classic hip-hop, trap, baroque pop, and techno into shapes far more disorienting than the beats that the vast majority of his contemporaries were rapping over. While it was evident beforehand, XXX really cemented the notion that Brown could rap over anything. The beats here are generally extremely impressive, and there are plenty of singular stylistic touches like the slurring violin stabs of “Lie 4”, the menacing synth lurch of “Monopoly”, or the distorted brass loops of closer “30”, that really stand out, but the appeal is first and foremost Brown’s rapping. His voice alone is one of the most versatile and unpredictable instruments in hip-hop, but aside from his masterful vocal alteration, always perfectly synched to the tone of any given moment on any given song of his, he’s a naturally gifted writer, as thoughtful as he is straight up hilarious. Whether bragging about his destructive lifestyle (“Die Like a Rockstar”), describing how much he loves cunnilingus “I Will”, mourning the desolation around him “Party All the Time”, or reveling in his come-up “30”, Brown is a thoroughly engaging presence throughout the entire album. On XXX profanity and profundity march gleefully hand in hand with one another, casting Brown as one of the last decade’s most singular voices.

Essentials: “Die Like a Rockstar”, “Monopoly”, “30”

23. House of Sugar- Alex G

On Alex G’s latest LP, House of Sugar, his concoction of warm guitar pop and warped electronic production reached a new peak. The songs on HoS detail the misdeeds of various characters succumbing to their greed, and the vignettes that he paints are growing increasingly well-realized thanks to a continuously sharpening songwriting voice and a plethora of tasteful pitch-shifted vocals that help imbue his characters with color and personality. HoS opener “Walk Away” provides a reasonably sonic barometer for what’s to come before dropping us into a series of the most immediate pop songs that he’s ever penned. “Hope” and “Southern Sky” are nimble acoustic guitar pop songs that are almost disarming in their immediacy, and framed around references to the real life death of a friend of his due to opioids and a dream he had, respectively. By the time we reach acoustic guitar and sitar-drone of “Taking” the pitch-shifted vocals are at the forefront of the music and HoS shifts gears into its abstract middle section which owes a lot to the new-age beat deconstruction of avant-garde electronic producers, specifically Oneohtrix Point Never. On the instrumental “Sugar”, a sublime concoction of pitch-warped whispers, dissonant strings arpeggios, and creeping acoustic guitar plucks, HoS reaches the depths of its depravity. The next song, “In My Arms”, leads us to the suite of sublime acoustic reveries that close HoS, arguably peaking with the gorgeous acoustic love ballad “Cow”. The dramatic sonic left-turn that HoS takes midway through may leave some new listeners a little cold, but for most Alex G fans nothing about the eclecticism of HoS should come as a surprise. Nor should the overwhelming quality of the songs here. From Alex G’s debut, Race, in 2010 up through HoS, he released a remarkable catalog of some of the most eclectic, and vital indie rock of the century, and I have no reason to believe he won’t top HoS at some point.

Essentials: “Gretel”, “Sugar”, “Walk Away”

22. Sea When Absent- A Sunny Day in Glasgow

A Sunny Day in Glasgow may be one of the 21st century’s most underrated bands, but not even Pitchfork could resist the coveted BNM tag when it came time to review their fourth and strongest LP, Sea When Absent. Building off of their first three idiosyncratic LPs that superbly fused electronic pop with shoegaze and dream pop, A Sunny Day in Glasgow moved into decidedly more psychedelic territory with their fourth LP while still retaining the sharp melodic sensibility of those first three. Much of the shift is easy to credit to vocalist Jen Goma who joined the group on their third LP, Autumn Again, and here her soaring vocals deliver rich melodies that are more fleshed out and focused than anything on their past releases. SWA sidesteps the kaleidoscopic sprawl of their 22 song sophomore LP, Ashes Grammar, and instead delivers 11 tight, stargazing pop songs. Whereas on the prior records it more often than not felt like the band were throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck (with primarily successful results) on SWA the band commit more thoroughly to their ideas, writing songs that are well within their wheelhouse but have never been so well-realized. “Byebye, Big Ocean (The End)” and “Boys Turn Into Girls (Initiation Rites)” erupt with a wall of dazzling distorted guitars that slowly build into engrossing melodic payoffs while “Never Nothing (It’s Alright (It’s Ok))” and “The Body, It Bends” are sublime, soft spoken breathers that put a premium on texture and melody, and are among A Sunny Day in Glasgow’s most impressive songs yet. Even seemingly inconsequential moments like the “Double Dutch” interlude positively radiant with melodic warmth and joyous energy. Their strain of sun-kissed, jubilant dream pop tonally stands in stark contrast to much of the pop that’s dominated the airwaves this past decade, but their temperament doesn’t sound naïve so much as defiant. They have yet to follow up SWA with another LP, and I can’t blame them if they feel like they’ve said everything that they have to say with SWA.

Essentials: “The Body, It Bends”, “Never Nothing (It’s Alright (It’s Ok))”, “Boys Turn Into Girls (Initiation Rites)”

21. Strange Mercy- St. Vincent

Annie Clark has spent the past decade releasing music under her St. Vincent moniker, collaborating with the likes of David Byrne, producing for Sleater-Kinney, and appearing on the sketch comedy Portlandia. Although she began her solo career in earnest with her strong 2008 debut, Marry Me, in 2011 Clark released Strange Mercy, her third, and strongest record to date. Produced by John Congleton, SM is a compelling fusion of art rock/and chamber pop that often lands with a jarring, visceral impact, but is still imbued with a sense of grace that heightens the sentiments of her bewitching songwriting. Her first two records showcased her singular voice and tastefully, ornate baroque arrangements, but on SM Clark begins to let loose and lean into her virtuosic guitar playing. Songs like “Cruel” and “Northern Light” are propelled by her nimble riffs caked in distortion while strings rise and fall in a satisfying sweep all around her triumphant vocals. “Surgeon” brings the pace down to a crawl and gets a tone of mileage out of sensuous synth arrangements as Clark sings softly of depression and carnal desire “Stay in just to get along/Turn off the TV, wade in bed/A blue and a red/A little something to get along” before the song erupts into a furious storm of guitar distortion. The balance between fury and serenity animate the record from start to finish, and Clark seamlessly toggles these impulses from start to finish. On the title track, over a lumbering tom/kick drum rhythm, the incessant ping of a synth, and bluesy guitar licks Clark brilliantly sums up the record’s theme with a scene of police brutality “If I ever meet that dirty policeman that roughed you up/No, I, I don’t know what” that depicts the contraction inherent in the way justice is carried out by police in the west, and the way those contradictions bleed through to our understanding of morality on the whole. SM is a record full of these sorts of messy contradictions, and the music constantly reflected that perpetual sense of disarray with songs as colorful and chaotic as they were controlled.

Essentials: “Northern Lights”, “Surgeon”, “Strange Mercy”

20. A Moon Shaped Pool- Radiohead

Radiohead’s eighth LP, 2011’s solid but unremarkable King of Limbs seemed to cement the notion that while Radiohead may not have another game changer left in them, they were probably weren’t ever going to make a bad record. And with all of their various solo pursuits it seemed plausible that we may never get another Radiohead record, as underwhelming as capping off a career as thrilling as theirs with KoL would have been. Thankfully things didn’t pan out that way, and in 2016 Radiohead released their ninth LP, A Moon Shaped Pool; the platonic ideal of a master stroke from a legacy act. The album is partially composed of older songs re-worked into new forms, such as the tense string onslaught of opener “Burn the Witch” while a few of the newer songs like the gorgeous, ambient “Daydreaming” are string-laden compositions that are as eerie as they are radiant. For a band that’s been prophesizing the increasingly dismal state of the world that we now find ourselves in for the past several decades, they sound increasingly comfortable with their position in the world, and there’s no question that they’re in full command of their craft here. The production is sublime throughout the entire record, with a sense of encroaching doom bubbling just beneath the surface juxtaposed against rich baroque instrumentation. AMSP is the Radiohead album most informed by Johnny Greenwood’s work scoring films like There Will Be Blood and Phantom Thread, and as a result there’s a remarkable sense of immersion at work even for a Radiohead album.

So while there are some recognizable forms from records past, such as the brass-lead krautrock strut of “Ful Stop”, or the twitchy IDM drum work of “Identikit”, the spectral production heightens the potency of everything here. The compositions on AMSP are the most elegant, and nuanced of Radiohead’s to date, and Yorke’s voice continues to age superbly. Yorke’s lyrics touch on familiar topics, more relevant now than ever, such as climate change on “The Numbers” “The numbers don’t decide/The system is a lie/A river running dry/The wings of butterflies” the dangers of unchecked authority on “Burn the Witch” “Abandon all reason/Avoid all contact/Do not react/Shoot the messengers/This is a low-flying panic attack” and the broader, horrific realities of the world that we live in on “Ful Stop” “Why should I be good if you’re not?/This is a foul tasting medicine/A foul tasting medicine/To be trapped in your ful-stop”. What’s more unexpected are songs like the graceful string-led “Glass Eyes” and the devastating ambient closer “True Love Waits”, two songs that are poignant tributes to Yorke’s ex-wife, Rachel Owen, who passed away from cancer in late 2016. AMSP isn’t just a spectacular late-career gem that would make a superb swan song; it’s also the most human record that Radiohead have made yet.

Essentials: “True Love Waits”, “Daydreaming”, “Ful Stop”

19. Eye Contact- Gang Gang Dance

Few bands set the tone for the kind of cross-culture hybridization that would become the sonic norm for music throughout this decade quite like Gang Gang Dance. Throughout the early aughts they cut their teeth in the Brooklyn noise scene alongside bands like Animal Collective, Black Dice, and Exceptor blending noise, experimental rock, and worldbeat into blistering, unconventional shapes. As the years progressed Gang Gang Dance gradually began to open up their sound, folding elements of hip-hop, dance music, and psychedelic pop into a colorful concoction of rhythmically robust, delightfully manic pop music that was just as forward-thinking as it was infectious. The shift really began on their criminally underrated 2005 LP, God’s Money, but began notably on their terrific 2008 LP, Saint Dymphna. On the follow-up to SD, their remarkable fifth LP, Eye Contact, the sound of Gang Gang Dance crystallized into something more immediate and far-ranging than anything that they had done prior (or since so far). On EC, everything that the band had attempted throughout the course of their career (tribal rhythms, eastern melodies, shards of refracted noise) was gloriously combined into a hyper-saturated tapestry of progressive future pop. EC is the peak of Gang Gang Dance’s prior decade of sonic exploration, and nearly a decade later there’s still nothing that sounds anything like it.

Beginning with the astonishing slow-burn intro of “Glass Jar” that finds the band patiently building up what begins as a pent up ambient composition toward something more volatile that eventually rips open midway through, spilling into a calamitous, euphoric release into the song’s second half, EC is bursting with joyous energy and possibility. The melodies are some of the sharpest, and most direct that vocalist Lizzi Bougatsos has ever penned, providing a warm immediacy that cuts through even the most outre arrangements here, and they continually expand into shapes as the songs continue to progress. “Adult Goth” and “MindKilla” are bolstered considerably by Lizzi’s dynamic vocal performances, and the off-kilter, spellbinding synth arrangements of the band’s keyboardist Brian DeGraw, while “Romance Layers” provides an ideal mid-album psychedelic breather.. And on the album’s closer, “Thru and Thru”, the band deliver a send-off that succinctly sums up a prior decade’s worth of experimentation into a nearly six-minute song overflowing with eastern melodies, mesmerizing chants, and infectious tribal rhythms that congeal into a sound that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anyone else. Although they’ve only graced us with the somewhat underwhelming 2018 record Kazuashita since, when Gang Gang Dance are firing on all cylinders, as they are on all of EC, there’s simply nothing like it.

Essentials: “Glass Jar”, “Adult Goth”, “Thru and Thru”

18. Shields- Grizzly Bear

Although the zeitgeist was already beginning to dramatically shift by the time that Grizzly Bear released their fourth LP, Shields, guaranteeing that it wouldn’t have the same immediate impact that they enjoyed with its predecessor, their 2009 breakout LP, Veckatimest, they still ended up releasing their magnum opus. Compared to Veckatimest’s approachable folk-pop leanings there are moments on Shields that sound downright prog, but the band never let these intricate baroque pop/psychedelic folk arrangements get away from themselves or compromise the remarkable melodic instincts that were undeniable on their terrific sophomore LP, Yellow House. The ten songs throughout Shields are perfectly paced, and there isn’t a single moment that overstays its welcome, but they each develop just as much as they need to. The band’s primary songwriters, Edward Droste and Daniel Rossen, were each peaking as singular songwriters in their own respective rights on Shields, and they both deliver a handful of the band’s strongest songs to date. Droste’s songs tend to creep in ethereal waltzes with delicate baroque instrumentation (“gun-shy”, “A Simple Answer”) unfolding patiently while sustaining a remarkable sense of tension while Rossen’s are jaunty folk rippers that unfurl in unpredictable, and thrilling cacophonies that still retain the grace that the ornate instrumentation demands (“Yet Again”, “Speak in Rounds”) but unfurl in far more complex structures than those on Veckatimest.

Grizzly Bear’s progression from Droste’s cozy lo-fi folk bedroom project to a knotty baroque folk juggernaut was one of the most quietly satisfying of any band from the past decade, and on Shields they hit a gorgeous peak. While Droste and Rossen had peaked as songwriters here, their contributions never overshadowed those of Chris Taylor or Chris Bear, and the chemistry on Shields is sharper than most bands ever come close to achieving. It’s easy to get lost admiring the sheer craft of their meticulous arrangements, crisp production, provoking but elusive songwriting, and the sharp interplay between Droste and Rossen each on their own individual merit, but on Shields everything that previously stood out about their artistry is amplified, and congealed in a way that’s approachable yet inimitable. On Shields Grizzly Bear umped the ante from Veckatimest on both fronts, and proved that they could grow more immediate and melodic while still dazzling with rich compositional complexity. Grizzly Bear followed it up with Painted Ruins in 2017, that while a perfectly good record in its own right is nowhere as cohesive, and most unfortunately, patient. And to be honest, I haven’t heard a baroque folk record released since Shields that’s as consistently engrossing, or one performed with such remarkable execution. Shields isn’t their most immediate, but it best distills their singular essence, and its generosity knows no bounds.

Essentials: “gun-shy”, “Yet Again”, “The Hunt”

17. The Money Store- Death Grips

Anyone from future generations looking to hear a band that’s most emblematic of the 10s as a full decade probably couldn’t do better than Death Grips. The trio consisting of vocalist MC Ride, keyboardist/producer Flatlander, and drummer Zach Hill released their abrasive Ex-military tape in 2011, and right out of the gates the trio had a fully-formed sound that plucked unapologetically from west coast hip-hop, industrial, hardcore, and noise. Although far from the first band to draw equally upon genres like these, Death Grips stood out immediately thanks in no small part to MC Ride, who has since proved to be one of the last decade’s most compelling frontmen. His lyrics are cryptic, and intelligent yet visceral, with a deceptively wry edge. Although there’s quite a bit of variety to his delivery, it’s always propelled forth with an overwhelming intensity that can take some time to become accustomed to. Ex-military was received rapturously by critics and bloggers, but as exciting as group like them may have seemed at the time it would have been hard to predict any kind of real longevity for them. And their unrelentingly antagonistic streak (leaking No Love Deep Web, putting a picture of Zach Hill’s dick on the cover of said album, skipping performances or just playing recorded music instead of performing, trolling fans, faking a breakup) would have decimated the momentum of almost any other band, but Death Grips feed on this sort of chaos like a troupe of anarchist vampires. Their arc from Ex-military to 2018’s Year of the Snitch is one of the most rewarding streaks of any act throughout the 10s, and while most of these records are great, there isn’t one that better distills their essence than their 2012 debut LP, The Money Store.

While Ex-military presented them as an admittedly idiosyncratic, yet undeniable product of their environment, TMS blew their sound wide open proving that they had range far beyond sounds of their native state. Right from the bass arpeggios that jolt opener “Get Got” to life, it’s clear the fidelity has improved considerably, but they haven’t compromised an ounce of their fury. This still scans as music custom-tailored for little other than violently thrashing your limbs, and little else from the past decade as been anywhere near as effective at distilling that aesthetic so neatly across the run of a single record. But on TMS Death Grips were still writing actual songs, with memorable hooks, sticky melodies, and conventional structures that served to heighten the potency of their tantrums. Songs like “I’ve Seen Footage” and “Hacker” are shocking for how immediate and unthreatening the band sound despite MC Ride’s sour bark, while songs like “The Fever (Aye Aye)” and “The Cage” showcase early peaks for Flatlander’s immaculate, and underrated synth work. MC Ride is at his best here, whether talking shit and espousing authenticity (“Hustle Bones”), calling out doubters (“Bitch Please”), or just railing against general conformity, he delivers 13 career defining performances in neat succession. Death Grips have continued to relentlessly experiment on all their subsequent records, and while some have come close to matching the excellence of TMS, they’ve all fallen short. Thankfully, the immense exhilaration and urgency of TMS sound more potent with each successive year that we inhibit this desolate hellscape.

Essentials: “I’ve Seen Footage”, “The Fever (Aye Aye)”, “Hacker”

16. Twin Fantasy (Face to Face)- Car Seat Headrest

It shouldn’t come as any surprise that a re-recording of a devastatingly personal LP that Will Toledo recorded at 19, with better production, stronger arrangements, and cleaner vocals, would end up being his best record to date. What was surprising was that he decided to return to the record of his that’s most important to him, and give it the sort of justice that it deserves after having developed into a far more adept talent in the years following its release. And although I’m sure some of those songs (if not all of them) were painful to revisit, the discipline and audacity paid off enormously. Twin Fantasy centers entirely around falling in love with another man at 19, and the arc of their relationship from mourning the distance between them on the opening song “My Boy (Twin Fantasy)” to the newfound acceptance of their relationship’s dissolution on closer “Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)”, detailing the highs and lows with unabashed sincerity. While the original still holds up fairly well, there’s no question that the re-arranging, cleaner vocals, and stronger fidelity overall just heightened the potency of what was already there without diminishing any aspect of the original record. Will’s cleverness, sense of humor, and dynamism as a bandleader elevate TF beyond a melancholic teen drama into a searing document of formative growth, demonstrating craft, ingenuity, and wisdom far beyond his years. More so than any other record released throughout the last decade, TF exemplifies just how potent indie rock still is.

This new version of TF is more of a “re-imagining” of the original record than anything else, and as such the thematic scope as it initially existed, along with the exact same track listing, is held perfectly intact. The record’s two epics, those being “Beach Life-In-Death” and “Famous Prophets (Stars)” are both even longer, and benefit more so than anything else here from their new arrangements. The fidelity has been cleaned up notably, but TF is still far from overproduced, and without any fuzz obscuring a lot of the detail you can hear just how crisp, and superbly layered these arrangements are. The new-wave outlier “Nervous Young Human” practically radiates with a newfound sheen, and is handedly the most radio-ready song the band have ever written, but it still folds seamlessly into the record’s mid-section between the anthemic, distortion-fueled peaks of “Sober to Death” and the record’s mid-album power-pop stunner, “Bodys”. Toledo’s drawing from a great deal here of different sub-genres here, and he manages to land on a remarkably uniform sound that belies the myriad of intricacies at work that prevent these compositions from being crushed underneath the weight of their own ambition. The album’s greatest achievement is how deftly Will manages to tell a story about the most profound event of his life coupled with music that’s as multi-faceted as the human experience being conveyed. TF may be proudly out of step with the current cultural zeitgeist from a sonic perspective, but the sentiments conveyed throughout are sublime missives from a distinctly millennial outlook. As far as concept albums about a single relationship are concerned, Toledo has set the bar this century with TF.

Essentials: “Famous Prophets (Stars)”, “Beach Life-In-Death”, “Bodys”

15. Modern Vampires of the City- Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend have come a long way from the indie afro-pop roots of their debut to their pastoral, jam band informed fourth LP, Father of the Bride, but on their third LP, Modern Vampires of the City the band refined their sound to a sublime strain of chamber music and art pop filled with Ezra Koenig’s strongest writing to date. Whereas their first two records were entirely produced by the band’s multi-instrumentalist and not-so-secret weapon Rostam Batmanliij, on MVotC Ariel Reitscheid, a producer known for working with acts like Charli XCX, Haim, Solange, etc joined the proceedings, and there’s a lighter feel to a lot of the arrangements, but everything has more dimension overall, and the low-end really pops on a lot of these in a way that it hadn’t really before. There are plenty of welcome production choices throughout, like the sprinkling of auto-tune on “Step”, or the blistering saxophone solo on “Worship You” that do a great deal to expand the parameters of the band’s sound without ever finding them really going out of their depth. Compared to their prior records there’s a fairly vast tonal gap on MVotC, with a heightened sense of existential dread and fixations on mortality, nostalgia, and faith. It’s weighty stuff without question, and the exceptional pacing goes a long towards helping evenly pack in the melancholic, languid compositions like “Everlasting Arms” and “Don’t Lie” with infectious up-tempo numbers like “Diane Young”, “Unbelievers”, and “Finger Back” that, while far from the best of what’s here are still as immediate as anything they’ve ever released and benefit from the same immaculate arrangement, production, and writing as everything else here even if they don’t break as much new ground. But the best of what’s here are without question among the best pop songs released so this far century.

Both opener “Obvious Bycycle” and “Step” are devastating looks at nostalgia that frame Ezra’s thoughtful character sketches in rich compositions that in the case of the former consist of soft wisps of grand piano, percussion that sounds like a stamp being punched, and surprisingly visceral bass, while in the case of the latter the band opt for gorgeous harpsichord arrangements, and a swaggering bassline. But “Hannah Hunt”, which is for the record the best VW song to date, is on another level entirely. It opens like the sun after the storm with field recording of a crowd of people clearing away for delicate grand piano and the gentle rumble of bass. Ezra sings of a relationship slowly starting to break apart as a couple travels the country together “A gardener told me some plants move/But I could not believe it/’Til me and Hannah Hunt/Saw crawling vines and weeping willows”. The song slowly builds into a rousing baroque pop crescendo over roaring keys as Ezra delivers one of his most devastating lines to date “If I can’t trust you then damn it Hannah/There’s no future, there’s no answer/Though we live on the US dollar/You and me we got our own sense of time”. Rostam left VW in 2016, and although their first record without him, the aforementioned 2019 comeback LP, FotB, his absence was sorely felt. On “Hudson” it almost sounds like Rostam is singing to Ezra, under that lens especially, it’s functions as a poignant, but fitting cap to VW’s first era. As great as FotB, Rostam’s 2017 debut Half-Light, and I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, his 2016 collaboration with Hamilton Leithauser of The Walkmen, I hope that MVotC isn’t the last time the two of them work on a full LP together.

Essentials: “Hannah Hunt”, “Step”, “Ya Hey”

14. Channel Orange- Frank Ocean

Few albums released throughout the last decade have brought about the sort of sweeping sea change that Frank Ocean’s sublime debut LP, Channel Orange, did. Ocean’s kaleidoscopic, self-released 2011 mixtape Nostalgia, Ultra established his artistry as something far beyond that of the go-to hook ghostwriter identity he cut his teeth establishing for himself. A year and a half later, amidst signing to Def Jam, collaborating extensively with Tyler, the Creator, Kanye West, and Jay-Z, and writing a now legendary tumblr post stating that his first love was for another man a few days before releasing his immensely anticipated debut LP, Frank Ocean released that album, and decided to call it Channel Orange. Like Ocean’s music itself, the narrative surrounding his ascension feels both timeless (moving to LA after Hurricane Katrina struck his hometown of New Orleans, ghostwriting and joining Tyler, the Creator’s hip-hop collective Odd Future before releasing his own music, which drew primarily from soul, classic r&b, and funk more than anything that was on the radio at the time) and modern (sampling extensively on N,U, having a few key co-signs that seemed to unlock all the right connections, leveraging the power of the internet along with the rest of Odd Future to build and sustain a fanbase) but none of it would matter if the music didn’t live up to the hype. But all of this is particularly interesting to consider when talking about CO, especially considering that it’s the best debut LP of the 10s, and an absolute master class in songwriting.

CO is a remarkably fully-formed debut LP that finds Ocean in complete control of his craft on all fronts. The instrumentation is a lush palette of analog keys, bass, and strings, and with the exception of a few fairly stripped down ballads, shows a keen command for maximalism that never sounds overwrought. Even a song like the colossal, mid-album change-up “Pyramids”, is saved from complete indulgence after the beat seamlessly shifts into a woozy down-tempo trap instrumental with plenty of space for Ocean’s falsetto to linger in. Ocean would shift gears dramatically with the 2016 visual album, Endless, and his second studio LP, Blonde, trading in the rich, dense analog soul and r&b for a minimal psychedelic soul sound. While the production on Blonde and Endless is more impressive than that of CO, neither record was quite able to match the lush immediacy that seemed to come to Ocean so naturally here. Ocean produced the record alongside the musicians Jonathon Ikpeazu, Malay, and Om’Mas Keith who all provided additional keys, drum programming, and/or guitars. Earl Sweatshirt, Tyler, the Creator, and Andre 3000 are the only guests that provide verses, and while each completely delivers, CO is Ocean’s record through and through. Regardless of whether Ocean is singing about the emptiness of privilege (“Super Rich Kids”), or depicting a tale of someone’s life falling apart due to crack addiction (“Crack Rock”) or delivering the closest thing he’ll likely ever come to a straight forward love song (“Thinkin’ Bout You”) his eye for detail, wit, intelligence, and empathy render the characters as rich, and multi-faceted regardless of what angle he’s coming at them from. The warmth and immediacy of the instrumentation and Ocean’s voice draws you in, but it’s the sheer strength of his songwriting that elevates CO from simply being another immensely promising debut to the classic that it is.

Essentials: “Crack Rock”, “Bad Religion”, “End / Golden Girl” ft. Tyler, the Creator

13. Sunbather- Deafheaven

Deafheaven were far from the first band to blend black metal, shoegaze, and post-rock, but on their stellar 2013 record Sunbather they distilled elements of these genres into a punishing, and breathtaking sound that’s unmistakably theirs. Their solid 2010 debut Roads to Judha showed tremendous promise, but their songwriting wasn’t on par with their ambitions yet. But on Sunbather, Deafheaven lived up to that early promise. Sunbather is primarily a blistering fusion of black metal drumming and shrieks engulfed in walls of shoegaze guitar that often give way to instrumental outros that shine with the radiance of Sigur Ros or Explosions in the Sky. George Clarke delivers the lyrics in an indecipherable shriek that either amplifies the intensity of the surrounding arrangements, or is used as a sublime juxtaposition to their fleeting moments of transcendent beauty. Sunbather is seven songs long, and superbly paced so that the band’s lengthier compositions are evenly split between songs that include a dreamy minimalist guitar/piano composition (“Irresistible”), a menacing baroque-noise march that congeals midway through into a jangly guitar conclusion (“Please Remember”), and an eerie collage of vocal samples and droning strings (“Windows”). This odd assortment of songs may seem random, but they do a nice job of breaking up the surrounding onslaught, and demonstrating the band’s range, while still adhering to the record’s searing aesthetic. It’s remarkably accessible music as far as metal is concerned, and if you can make it past the tone of Clarke’s voice there’s a lot to love about this album.

For all of Sunbather’s seemingly impenetrable harshness, there’s a great deal of beauty glistening just beneath the surface. On Sunbather, Deafheaven managed to strike a near perfect balance between beauty and chaos that, while greater heights were achieved later on, they never quite improved upon. The longer numbers here transition into moments of transcendent, cathartic beauty, and back into frenetic fury so subtly, and masterfully, that the juxtapositions quickly begin to seem less like extreme exercises in contrasting dynamics and tones so much as the fluid spectrum of Deafheaven’s multi-faceted artistry. And while the lyrics throughout Sunbather match the brutality of the corresponding arrangements, they also match their life-affirming, triumphant sense of urgency. Whether Clarke is reflecting on habitual patterns and habits that he just can’t shake “Lost in the patterns of youth/And the ghost of your aches comes back to haunt you/And the forging of change makes no difference” on “Vertigo” or ruing the alcoholism that he inherited from his father “In the hallways lit up brightly but couldn’t find myself/I laid drunk on the concrete on the day of your birth in celebration of all you were worth” on closer “The Pecan Tree”, his lyrics throughout Sunbather imbue his tortured yelps with a devastating poignancy rendered all the more morose by the band’s unflinching, formidable poise. It’s not hard to hear why Sunbather was the best reviewed album of 2013, and a game changer for black metal. Few records, metal or otherwise, have managed to convey such overwhelming emotional intensity through such ambitious composition. Its crushing beauty hasn’t lost an ounce of its potency in the years since.

Essentials: “Dream House”, “The Pecan Tree”, “Sunbather”

12. To Pimp a Butterfly- Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar caught the attention of the zeitgeist with his generation defining sophomore LP, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City, but that record’s follow-up, To Pimp a Butterfly, cemented his status as one of the definitive musical auteurs of his generation. Whereas the former record was a gripping street epic that seamlessly tucked a coming of age story into the larger fabric of a blockbuster west coast hip-hop record, the latter record blew open the history of black music and wove together a tapestry of disparate styles that congealed to express a more multi-faceted look at the black experience. The beats are composed of live instrumentation courtesy of Terrance Martin, Kamasi Washington, Thundercat, and a plethora of the west coast jazz elite, and they span the likes of jazz, r&b, soul, and funk alongside instrumental hip-hop without showing the seams. The music runs the gamut from uplifting anthems (“Alright”) to bouts of unbridled fury (“The Blacker the Berry”), and everywhere in-between, but thanks to Kendrick’s deft pacing and execution nothing sounds out of place, and there’s no mistaking these songs for the work of anyone else through sheer scope alone. Kendrick’s writing and rapping had increased considerably since GKMC, but throughout TPaB he spends less time trying to prove what a capable rapper he is, and far more time using his ability to explore the nuances of systemic racial issues through the lens of a plethora of different characters. TPaB couldn’t have possibly sounded more out of step with the zeitgeist upon its release, but in venturing beyond what hip-hop in the mid 10s sounded like, and exploring perspectives beyond those of himself, he was able to tap into something far more universally human.

Throughout the course of TPaB Kendrick tackles a wide plethora of topics with music that’s matches the breadth and scope of his thematic ambitions. The g-funk strut “King Kunta” is one of the most immediate songs in his career, and he juxtaposes the song’s infectious backdrop against verses that evoke the resilience of Kunta Kinte in the novel Roots as a through line for the jarring shift he experienced throughout his come-up after growing up in poverty. “u?” brilliantly distills the sort of tragic survivor’s guilt that Kendrick experienced in the wake of his success watching so many of his friends continue to succumb to the perils of systemic racism through harsh free-jazz arrangements, while “i” gains power within the context of the record as an uplifting neo-soul anthem of self-love after the preceding storm has subsided. The uplifting anthem “Alright” has become a canonical protest song in the wake of civil unrest as a result of excessive police brutality while the finale, “Mortal Man”, begins with some of his strongest verses to date before transitioning into a fabricated interview with 2Pac. There’s an absurd amount to unpack within the songs on TPaB, but the album never buckles under the weight of its ambition, and delivers performances that are striking at every turn. Kendrick never shies away from depicting the devastating realities throughout the history of the black American experience, but he finds reasons to persist through these tribulations in the power of community, god, and love.

Essentials: “The Blacker the Berry”, “u”, “Wesley’s Theory” ft. George Clinton

11. Lonerism- Tame Impala

On Tame Impala’s debut, Innerspeaker, the band proved adept at piecing together the finest moments from their record collections into strange, idiosyncratic new shapes, but on their sublime sophomore LP, Lonerism, they began to push their sound into the present moment. The flanged guitars, shuffling drum rhythms, and frontman Kevin Parker’s Lennon-esque falsetto are a hallmarks of classic psychedelic rock, but the spellbinding synth textures, evocative samples, and cavernous production showcase a definitively 21st century sensibility. There was no mistaking them for a pure homage act on Lonerism. With the exception of piano on a few tracks courtesy of Jay Watson, and a spoken word interlude courtesy of Melody Prochet, Lonerism was written, recorded, and produced entirely by Kevin Parker, and it helped signal a major shift from bands being the dominant artistic vehicle in indie music to the solo artist taking up that mantle. Lonerism is a perfectly paced album, and aside from a few breathers, and a few epics, it almost plays like a greatest hits set. There were signs of the disco-prog synth act that Tame Imapa developed into on a few of Lonerism’s more immediate moments, but this is still thoroughly steeped in the lineage of psychedelic rock, acid rock, and blues rock. With Lonerism, Parker began to show signs of the poptimist that he was all along, but he hadn’t yet compromised the instrumental ingenuity that he’s capable of for a strong melody, and so here you get the best of both worlds; the band’s sharpest hooks and most adventurous production. Lonerism is where Tame Impala evolved from a promising project with immense potential into one of the defining musical acts of Parker’s generation.

Lonerism is a record that completely lives up to its title as a concept record about isolation. Every song here finds Parker grappling with some aspect of self-imposed isolation set against hazy, psychedelic pop/rock instrumentation. Some songs like, the disarmingly immediate “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” spells out his anguish explicitly, with a love interest that he keeps falling for against his best judgement, while “Endors Toi” finds Parker rejecting the hardships of reality for the bliss that’s only possible when you’re literally dreaming. The lyrics rarely go deep, but on a record like this they’re entirely beside the point. Thankfully Parker’s writing works superbly within the context of the concept without detracting from the instrumentation and production. Parker wrote a few strong hooks on IS, but they were the exception, not the norm. On Lonerism, Parker’s melodic intuition had fully blossomed, and the hooks on songs like “Elephant”, “Why Won’t She Talk to Me”, and “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” were more immediate, and more memorable than anything on the top 40 at the time. The songs on Lonerism are bursting with sonic personality; whether we’re talking about the euphoric streaks of synth that send “Apocalypse Dreams” into the stratosphere, the phaser-smeared guitars and immersive samples that bring “Sun’s Coming Down” to its triumphant finale, or the propulsive drum fllls that propel “Endors Toi”, Lonerism is the most sonically rich record that Parker has ever released. Parker would achieve more audacious and unexpected heights on his superb 2015 follow-up, Currents, but he has yet to top Lonerism’s consistency, and near perfect balance between studio experimentation and pure pop craftsmanship.

Essentials: “Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control”, “Sun’s Coming Up”, “Apocalypse Dreams”

10. Flower Boy- Tyler, the Creator

Flower Boy may not have come as a surprise to those who closely followed Tyler Okonoma’s progression from the lo-fi hardcore hip-hop days of Bastard and early Odd Future through his chaotic, candy-coated third LP, Cherry Bomb, but for the casual listener it may have seemed like an unthinkable evolution. And no one could have predicted its consistency. The signs of Tyler progressing into melodic, psych-leaning neo-soul were on the wall as early as his terrific 2013 record, Wolf, but on FB his melodic sensibilities, compositional chops, and an increasingly empathetic outward writing perspective all coalesced into an idiosyncratic tapestry of vibrant sound and color unlike any hip hop record ever recorded. It’s the first time that Tyler’s chops had fully caught up with his ambition, allowing him to completely deliver on the promise of a truly genre-adverse opus that Cherry Bomb merely hinted at. The lyrics are somber, and reflective, demonstrating Tyler’s newfound sense of maturity that would have been unthinkable throughout the early OF days. The sincerity and vulnerability of the lyrics go a long way towards heightening the potency of his vibrant, melodically rich compositions. FB capitalizes on all the strange contradictions that have always been inherent in his music, while removing the adolescent excess that have bogged down each prior release. The result is a highwater mark for what hip-hop and neo-soul can sound like unbridled with concern for what music should sound like. That attention to detail and unrelenting creative spirit are what helped propel FB into being the classic record that it ended up being.

Eschewing the lo-fi Neptunes meets MF DOOM beats of his past records, Tyler landed on a perfect blend of neo-soul synths, jazz strings/horns, and drums that split the difference between classic boom-bap and mid-10s trap for FB. The music is bright and vibrant, with a wealth of detail tucked within each mix that rewards multiple listens. There are songs that are completely in Tyler’s wheelhouse, like the frantic, mid-album trap cut “I Ain’t Got Time!”, and a few like the show-stopping psychedelic soul ballad, “Garden Shed”, that dramatically expand the parameters of his sound, but they all cohere together superbly into a fully-realized kaleidoscope of sound. Even the songs like “Pothole” and “November” that seem like more run of the mill Tyler cuts showcase a renewed sense of focus and tight production that belie their simple construction. FB is a record that’s focused on unrequited love, and while themes of abandonment, disillusionment with fame, growing pains, and insecurity emerge as on past records, the bulk of the action is focused on Tyler coming to terms with both his bisexuality and the anguish of a missed connection. Rarely does heartbreak sound so unflinchingly, thrillingly alive. True to form, the music is never mopey or saccharine, but it’s always brimming with the intensity of young love. FB is the record that Tyler has always set out to make, and while I’m sure he’ll top it at some point, it currently stands at the definitive realization of his singular vision.

Essentials: “911 / Mr. Lonely” ft. Frank Ocean & Stevey Lacy, “Garden Shed” ft. Estelle, “See You Again” ft. Kali Uchis

9. Until the Quiet Comes- Flying Lotus

After Steve Ellison, aka Flying Lotus, dropped his masterful third LP, Cosmogramma, it seemed like he could take his sound anywhere, but doubling down and improving on the maximalist excess of Cosmogramma would have proved a near impossible task. Thankfully, on his stellar follow-up LP, Until the Quiet Comes, FlyLo swung all the way in the opposite direction, and despite it being the flavor of the decade minimalism rarely ended up sounding better on any other artist. UtQC is a minimalist electronic jazz/instrumental hip hop record with dreamy meditative arrangements that belie their complexity at every turn. The album is a concept record that finds FlyLo exploring the realms of human consciousness coupled with ambitious arrangements and immersive production that complements his thematic ambitions perfectly. FlyLo is still making beats in a traditional sense, but the compositions on this LP are more rich and varied than the entire discography of most producers, and the music he draws from spans the likes of ambient, psychedelia, r&b, post-rock, progressive rock, and meditative astral jazz as much as his usual instrumental hip hop, IDM, and free jazz touchstones. And so while UtQC is more insular, less immediate, and more likely to necessitate multiple listens than any other record of his, it’s the best showcase of FlyLo’s versatility, melodic intuition, and use of texture.

The compositions are short and sweet, and barely last longer than it takes for FlyLo to introduce an idea, tweak it, thwart expectations, and move on. Like on Cosmogramma, UtQC incorporates live instrumentation weaved throughout various compositions (Thundercat’s bass playing was cemented as a staple element of FlyLo’s sound here) as well as vocal features from the likes of Thundercat, Thom Yorke, Laura Darlington, and Niki Randa. The features are all utilized tastefully, and heighten the potency of the existing arrangements without detracting too much. There are songs like “All In” and “Yesterday/Corded” that just feature FlyLo alone constructing remarkable, lived-in soundscapes from his usual toolkit of drum machines, samplers, sequencers, and keys, while others like the title track and “DMT Song” that commit thoroughly to their minimalism, and coast effortlessly around strong melodies or guest vocal performances. Many of these songs retain the visceral low-end and celestial sweep of his best work, but they don’t serve to overwhelm and disorient as much as they sedate and mesmerize. “Getting There” hits the sweet spot, with and infectious, heavy-hitting low-end juxtaposed against Niki Randa’s sweeping falsetto. UtQC may not go for the jugular as FlyLo’s prior two records, but it’s just as captivating in its own quietly confident way.

And a few of the songs on the back half of the record are some of the most gorgeous that FlyLo has ever composed. The loose and dreamy “Only if You Wanna” provides a simple but sublime bridge from the drum and bass rush of “The Nightcrawler” into the droning r&b mirage with Yorke’s vocals wafting eerily through the crevices in the mix. From there the record moves into “Hunger” and “Phantasm”, two songs that skew the closest that FlyLo has ever veered toward straight up ambience, and they slowly unfurl into gorgeous, unpredictable string progressions as Niki Randa and Laura Darlington deliver understated, ethereal vocals, respectively. From there we’re led into “me Yesterday//Corded”, one of the strongest songs that FlyLo has released to date. It begins in the same somber, minor-key tone of the preceding songs before erupting into a cosmic drum and bass coda with a euphoric melody and pitch-shifted vocals. The final song, “Dream to Me” is a whirring synth and woodwind lullaby that brings everything full circle, leading us right back into the intro, “All In”. UtQC breezes by in nearly 47 minutes, but there’s another singular, self-contained universe of detail packed into this record’s spellbinding grooves.

Essentials: “yesterday//Corded”, “Electric Candyman ft. Thom Yorke”, “All In”

8. Carrie & Lowell- Sufjan Stevens

By the time that Sufjan Stevens released Carrie & Lowell he had already released several classic records and had undergone several stylistic change-ups, but nothing in his discography established the precedent for a masterwork quite like C&L. On C&L Sufjan returned to the sparse chamber folk sound of his superb fourth record, Seven Swans, but he replaced the short vignettes and character studies that peppered that record with an engrossing scope that centers around his tumultuous relationship with his late mother who suffered from substance addiction and schizophrenia. The music is hushed, and minimal, consisting of little more than finger plucked guitar, banjo, ukulele, and an assortment of strings underneath Sufjan’s tender delivery. His music has always radiated a sense of overwhelming empathy, and so when plumbing the depths of his psyche for memories of his mother the tone is often devastating and cathartic in equal measure, but never overly morose or self-pitying. With C&L Sufjan succeeded in honoring his mother’s memory as honestly and as faithfully as he could while his songwriting hit a new peak.

C&L sustains an almost overwhelming poignancy throughout its duration, but it’s never a slog. The heaviness of the sentiments never really subsides, but these songs are each filled with strong hooks, sweeping melodies, and a disarming directness that he’s never quite managed on prior records. Songs like the opening cut “Death with Dignity”, “Should Have Known Better”, and “The Only Thing” soar with warm, infectious hooks and nimble guitar arrangements alongside a few electronic and orchestral embellishments, while songs like “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross” and “Fourth of July” bring the tempo to a crawl and bask in Sufjan’s falsetto and minor-key acoustic guitar arrangements. It all comes to a head on the devastating centerpiece “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross”, as Sufjan depicts the self-destructive behavior he engaged in right after his mother’s death “There’s blood on that blade/Fuck me, I’m falling apart/My assassin/Like Casper the ghost/There’s no shade in the shadow of the cross” just so that he could feel closer to her.

Essentials: “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross”, “Death with Dignity”, “The Only Thing”

7. Some Rap Songs- Earl Sweatshirt

Earl Sweatshirt was arguably the greatest living rapper before dropping his magnum opus, Some Rap Songs, but since its release it’s become much harder to dispute. On SRS Earl runs through 15 songs in 22 minutes, delivering sometimes little more than a hook and a verse per song before transitioning into the next one. The songs operate according to their own logic, and forgo traditional song structure for a loop-based compositional approach. Earl produced the bulk of the record himself, and heavily opted for dusty, de-tuned pianos, shuffling, lo-fi percussion, and a plethora of discordant texture. Earl’s precision is remarkable, and what may initially scan as awkward or clumsy flows slowly reveal themselves to be masterfully sidestepping the rhythms entirely. But for all its challenging aspects, SRS is hardly a precious, posturing sort of record. It demands your full attention, but will reward it several times over.

The songs throughout SRS are bleak missives from a remarkable talent unpacking years of trauma. The record tackles many of the same themes of abandonment, drug abuse, and depression as his past records, but he’s cut out any lingering excess in his prose, distilling only what’s absolutely necessary into each bar. The rapping is lean, and virtuosic, but never showy, and the brevity of the songs themselves is indicative of how succinct and substantial the music there is. Songs like “Red Water” have just a single couplet that he repeats a few times as the ebb and flow of the instrumental sustains the onset momentum, while other songs like “The Mint” are closer to convention, but still unfold along unpredictable loops, and verses that zig zag in and out of the mix at irregular intervals. There are songs like “Cold Summers” and “The Bends” that are the closest that Earl comes to rapping accessibly, and there are those like “Playing Possums” and Peanuts" that owe more to tape loops, ambient, and noise music than anything resembling hip hop. SRS and it’s follow-up EP, Feet of Clay, are easily the most challenging, experimental, and divisive records that Earl has released to date, but they’re also singular masterworks that push hip hop into stranger, and more human realms.

Essentials: “Peanut”, “The Mint” ft. Navy Blue, “December 24”

6. New Bermuda- Deafheaven

After releasing their superb second LP, Sunbather, Deafheaven had become one of the most acclaimed metal bands of the century, and had achieved a level of popularity unprecedented for metal bands. Never mistaken by anyone as purists, Deafheaven began their career flirting with through lines between shoegaze, black metal, and post-rock before tastefully combining them on Sunbather. While they easily could have churned out another LP of post-rock/blackgaze of the same stripe, the band went deeper and darker, and re-emerged with their third LP, New Bermuda, the heaviest, and arguably most melodic, record of their career to date. Across five songs that collectively clock in around 46 minutes Deafheaven continue to expand their parameters of their sound, incorporating heavier tremelo guitars, incendiary blast beats, and sweeping post-rock passages that are more adventurous, expansive, and gorgeous, than what any other bands are doing today. NB may lean the furthest towards the brutality of classic black metal, but the band’s 2015 onslaught still amplifies an immense feeling of transcendence alongside the terror.

Opener “Brought to the Water” rustles to life with the ominous sway of church bells before its lead guitar riff kicks into gear, foreshadowing the premium they place on atmosphere with foreboding timbres. Throughout the next several minutes the band continue to build a scorched earth black metal composition bristling with distortion and rapid fire drumming that eventually slyly segues into a sugary breakdown reminiscent of “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer. It’s disarming, and unprecedented, but a perfectly logical evolution of their sound that reaffirms their status as the most versatile band at the vanguard of contemporary black metal. “Luna” and “Come Back” are two of the heaviest songs that Deafheaven have ever released, and get a ton of mileage out of their seismic guitar riffs and pummeling percussion, while “Luna” boasts one of the loveliest melodies they’ve ever penned, gliding alone a star-dusted, stratosphere-bound guitar riff. Closer “Gifts for the Earth” is a succinct culmination of the preceding 38 minutes, capped off with their most cathartic coda to date with jangly guitar and minor key piano softly swirling around Clarke’s feral shrieks. The warmth exuded beneath Clarke’s shrapnel-laced delivery posits Deafheaven as a band executing well-beyond the scope and limitations of metal.

Essentials: “Gifts for the Earth”, “Brought to the Water”, “Luna”

5. Halcyon Digest- Deerhunter

By the time that Deerhunter geared up to record their fifth LP, Halycon Digest, they already had a rich body of work behind them, but very little of their music set the kind of precedent for where they would go on HD. Here, Deerhunter tapered down their most avant-garde impulses in favor of cleaner guitar arrangements and big, bright melodies, unearthing the pop band they’ve always been at their core with poise and aplomb. The walls of guitar noise, ambient interludes, and studio effects that had defined their previous releases became relegated to marginal aspects of their song craft, and they began opening up their songs like never before. Thankfully, they didn’t dilute their sound, they just cleaned it up, and the 11 songs that make up HD are the most immediate, and richly produced (thanks to Ben Allen, who produced this record after nailing Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion a year prior) of Deerhunter’s career to date. Deerhunter’s shift towards accessibility only seemed to accentuate their inherent strangeness, and HD remains one of the most engaging and endlessly replayable indie pop records of the 21st century.

From the droning low-end thump that ignites opener “Earthquake” it’s clear something substantial has shifted. Allen’s biggest contribution was a heightened low-end that caused Josh Fauver’s bass to really pop without distracting too much from the rest of the arrangements. This extra oomph propels songs like “Don’t Cry” and “Coronado” well into infectious, anthemic territory while it helps ground more ambitious cuts like “Helicopter” and “Desire Lanes”. Frontman Bradford Cox had completely grown into his role as a charismatic, provocative frontman with the pipes and poetic disposition to back up the antics, and propel his band towards a stadium sized sound even if they would never end up touring them. Bradford’s vocal melodies on closer “…He Would Have Laughed” and centerpiece “Helicopter” are the strongest that the band ever penned, while he delivers two of his most impressive vocal performances on the lulling “Sailing” and the pensive “Earthquake”. The closer, a tribute to the late Jay Reatard, is perhaps Deerhunter’s finest moment to date, with Bradford spinning surreal couplets “I live on a farm, yeah/I never lived on a farm” around the band’s steady harpsichord pulse until the composition bursts with euphoria, and then slowly begins to fade out before cutting out abruptly. Deerhunter have never made a bad record, but HD was the last time they showed how simultaneously adventurous and immediate pop music can be.

Essentials: “He Would Have Laughed”, “Helicopter”, “Desire Lanes”

4. Black Messiah- D’Angelo & The Vanguard

In the years following D'Angelo’s spectacular second LP, Voodoo, it seemed increasingly likely that he would never release another record. But then in the twilight days of 2014 D'Angelo surprise dropped his 3rd and best LP to date, Black Messiah, with a new band supporting him called The Vanguard (which consisted of Questlove on drums, Pina Palladino on bass, Isaiah Sharkey on guitar, Roy Hargrove on horns, and a handful of other musicians). BM eschews the warm r&b/neo-soul solo singer-songwriter sound of the first two D'Angelo LPs in favor of a fiery cocktail of avant-garde soul, jazz funk, and psychedelic r&b that’s simultaneously more abrasive and experimental than anything he had done prior. D'Angelo still has a remarkably agile falsetto, but it’s been notably weathered by the years away, and it now has a grainier disposition that happens to be a much better fit for the songs throughout the record. The band’s chemistry is just remarkable, and it’s hard to believe that they weren’t all cutting records with each other for decades prior. Unlike most artists that come back with new work after a notable dry spell, D'Angelo has never sounded more human than he does on this latest LP of his. Thankfully, despite the years apart D’Angelo hasn’t lost an ounce of his remarkable talent, and brings a magnetic charisma, sublime range, and a much sharper point of view to songs that reflect the turmoil of the preceding years of unrelenting police violence, yet respond in a multitude of ways. The Vanguard prove to be an ideal backdrop for D’Angelo’s songwriting, and together they achieve a new standard for neo-soul.

Although it had been 14 years, D'Angelo’s return felt right on time in the immediate wake of the deaths of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and plenty of others at the hands of the police. While D'Angelo’s music has never shied away from political statements, BM is by far the most explicitly political record of his career. “1000 Deaths” opens to a sample of a Khalid Abdul Muhammed speech about Jesus being black and quickly gives way to a visceral, funk rock rhythm and red-lining guitars with D'Angelo dissecting the difference between courage and cowardice “Because a coward dies a thousand times/But a soldier just dies once”. On the following track, “The Charade”, D'Angelo opts for searing soul that builds into his most anthemic melody to date while he delivers devastating imagery of the cruelty still inflicted on black people all over the world “All we wanted was a chance to talk/‘Stead we only got outlined in chalk” while “'Til It’s Done” contains D'Angelo’s finest melody to date and finds him questioning the nature of our existence and whether we’re really reckoning with the way that capitalists are destroying our planet “Perilous dissidence evening up the score/Do we even know what we’re fighting for?”. He also delivers some of his best love songs to date, including the funky mid-tempo shuffle of “Sugah Daddy”, the tender soul ballad “Betray My Heart”, and the spellbinding centerpiece “Really Love”. These songs fold neatly within the larger fabric of the record as a whole, and complement the politically charged songs without breaking the greater aesthetic. D'Angelo’s conviction is palpable throughout it all, and the newfound wisdom that he accrued in the years since Voodoo enrich the perspective that he brings to the songs in such a generous, humble way. Even if D’Angelo never releases another record we couldn’t have asked for a better swan song from him.

Essentials: “’Til It’s Done”, “The Charade”, “Really Love”

3. MBV- My Bloody Valentine

Like D'Angelo, it didn’t seem likely that My Bloody Valentine would ever follow-up their masterful second LP, but 22 years after the release of Loveless, in the dead of February 2013, MBV, the third My Bloody Valentine, finally emerged. There are 9 songs here, and they can neatly divided into three sections that find the band progressing from an extension of what they were doing in the 90s to styles never associated with them. MBV picks up right where Loveless left off, beginning with expansive suite of shoegaze songs rendered with the kind of sublime texture and tone as we’ve come to expect from the group, and slowly but surely they branch out into psychedelic pop, ambient, and pure noise, realms they’ve teased in the past but have never quite committed to prior. You can hear the band straining against their limitations, and although seeking out perfection is a fools errand, they nearly achieve it.

There’s no mistaking MBV as the work of any other band, but here they’re painting in darker, bolder hues than they’ve used in the past. Beginning with the opening song, “She Found Now”, their sound is much richer, and more forlorn, than it’s ever sounded, with thick plumes of guitar washing over wispy androgynous vocals and faint, skeletal percussion. Even as the tempos increase and the melodies begin to peak out beneath the fuzz, that wistful, melancholic tone remains. “Only Tomorrow” amps up the tempo with a driving rhythm and scorching guitars perpetually firing into the red

while “In Another Way” is a bludgeoning slice of driving noise pop with a strong melody from guitarist Belinda Butcher. “Nothing Is” coasts off the hypnotic repetition of its bludgeoning guitars for 3.5 minutes, and perfectly segues into the glorious noise piece, “Wonder 2”, which closes the record on a note of whirring guitars that approximate the overwhelming euphoria of first wave shoegaze, but takes the listener to much stranger places.

The nine songs throughout MBV strike a perfect balance between updating the shoegaze style that they perfected on loveless while wading into new territory, but it all hangs together beautifully. Kevin Shields and Belinda Butcher still harmonize on the bulk of these songs, and they’re ethereal delivery is still the perfect counterbalance for the aggression of the guitars. The searing slow-burn of “Who Sees You” is the peak of their vocal interplay, while on the midsection pop numbers like “New You” and “In Another Way” Butcher takes the reins and delivers two of the band’s strongest melodies to date over driving percussion and sleigh bells. The relative immediacy of “New You” is new sound for the band, and they completely deliver on its hypnotic pop premise. “Is This and Yes” and “Nothing Is” are the two instrumentals at the polar ends of the band’s sound that perfectly balance out the more dynamic songs, and the aforementioned noise piece “Wonder 2” complements the opening song “She Found Now” perfectly in that it’s an exploration of what My Bloody Valentine might explore more of if they ever release a fourth LP. It’s a miracle that MBV even exists in the first place, so the fact that it’s this good is just icing.

Essentials: “Only Tomorrow”, “New You”, “In Another Way”

2. Blonde- Frank Ocean

After releasing his generation defining 2012 debut Channel Orange, it was hard to say where he was going to take his music next. A cryptic series of videos in mid-August 2016 featuring Frank building a ladder led to few clues, but at the end of this week we received an audio-visual album titled Endless. Before anyone could really acclimate themselves to sleek, genre-agnostic minimalism of Endless, the proper follow-up to CO, titled Blonde, released a day later. Whereas CO was the sound of a singular talent discovering what he can do, Blonde is the sound of that talent capitalizing on those gifts with unparalleled precision. On Blonde Frank opts for a striking minimalist palette of psychedelic pop, avant-garde soul, ambient, and jazz, that are off-kilter and adventurous without sacrificing the warmth of his past work. Like CO, Blonde primarily explores themes of nostalgia, heartbreak, identify, and the nature of human perception, and here his eye for detail and attention to detail remains unmatched by any songwriter of the last decade.

From the opening song “Nikes”, Blonde presents itself as a drastic stylist departure from what Frank was doing prior. The first half is a distorted r&b dreamscape with Frank crooning in a pitch-shifted higher register, and actually has him rapping a few verses, before returning to his normal register. Blonde is filled with strange, yet tasteful stylistic touches like this, from the distorted shrieks at the end of “Ivy”, to the collapsing, pitch-shifted orchestra that gives way to an eerie children’s choir’s on “Pretty Sweet”, the album rarely shifts into anything that scans as conventional. “Pink and White” is the most straight forward moment on the album, but the verses rarely stay grounded, and soon give way to a soaring chorus that slyly tucks Beyonce’s voice into the fold before the instruments dissolve from the mix entirely. “Skyline To” and “Godspeed” flirt with ambience and put a great deal of emphasis on exploring texture and negative space, while “Close to You” is a brief, glitchy cover of Stevie Wonder’s classic that provides a terrific segue from the “Facebook Story” interlude into the record’s devastating centerpiece, White Ferrari. The record covers a remarkable amount of ground sonically, but it coheres in a way that completely belies this scope.

“Nikes” sets the tone for the record on the whole as Frank watches his friends lose themselves to the spoils of his fame and begins to recognize himself as a placeholder for a partner’s lost love. “Self-Control” depicts the story of one of Frank’s relationship’s imploding “I’ll be the boyfriend in your set dreams tonight/Noses on a rail, little virgin wears the white” set to a mesmerizing neo-soul slow-burn that unfurls a gorgeous, understated melody while “Nights” juxtaposes the highs of the come-up “Oooh nani nani/This feel like a Quaalude” with a guitar pop/boom-bap instrumental and the perils of fame with a woozy, cloud-rap adjacent second half “Shut the fuck up I don’t want to hear your conversation/Rollin” marijuana that’s a cheap vacation". The record hits its peak with the spectacular ballad, “White Ferrari”, the strongest song of his career to date. Over warm acoustic guitar provided by Alex G Frank details the permanence of the love that he’ll have for someone that he’s no longer in a relationship with “I care for you still and I will forever/That was my part of the deal, honest/We got so familiar”. The humility and humanity of the moment is heartbreaking, and speaks volumes about the depths of Frank’s artistry. Blonde set a new benchmark for avant-garde pop, and is arguably the most influential album of the past decade.

Essentials: “White Ferrari”, “Nights”, “Self-Control”

1. Cosmogramma- Flying Lotus

After breaking through with his superb sophomore LP, Los Angeles (a singular blend of IDM, trip-hip, and woozy Dilla & Madlib-esque instrumental hip-hop) it would have been easy for Flying Lotus to continue mining the same sounds for successive records that were just slight variations on that singular template. But for FlyLo’s third LP, Cosmogramma, he blew his sound wide open, eschewing the quantized beat grid for a lusher, more sprawling sound that couldn’t be confined to standard rhythms. Cosmogramma is steeped in the lineage of instrumental hip hop and IDM like its predecessor, but it manages to juggle a wider palette of disparate styles such as four on the floor, drum and bass, jungle, free-jazz, and experimental bass while incorporating a wide variety of guest musicians that do a superb job of fleshing out his expansive compositions. Cosmogramma is a record that can barely contain its ambition, and despite having been released over a decade ago it still shines like a beacon illuminating the boundless possibilities of where music can go.

The sublime fusion of the live instrumentation, supplied by Thundercat on bass, Miguel Atwood-Ferguson contributing string arrangements, and Ravi Coltrane providing tenor saxophone, among many others coupled with FlyLo’s mind-warping production is what gives the album it’s compelling thrust. The first half primarily splits the difference between frantic drum and bass/synth-pop heaters and atmospheric cosmic-jazz interludes, and the pacing is just remarkable, with no moment overstaying it’s welcome and plenty of space to give each idea the space it needs to develop. Thom Yorke drops by for a wispy vocal performance on the agile IDM strut “And the World Laughs With You” while Thundercat delivers a formal career introduction on the tender ballad “MmmHmm” before the record shifts into the infectious four on the floor centerpiece, “Do the Astral Plane”. From here the record deploys the astral jazz and eastern influences in a more pronounced fashion on songs like “German Haircut” and “Dance of the Pseudo Nymph” respectively. The celestial ambience of “Table Tennis” featuring Laura Darlington is a welcome breather for the life-affirming synth surge of closer “Galaxy in Janaki”, ending the album on a somber, but ultimately uplifting note with Flylo sampling the ventilators that his mom was hooked up to on her death bed for a euphoric, synth-streaked send-off.

The enduring appeal lies in its function as ambition existing for the sake of ambition. The songs throughout Cosmogramma all vary in texture, tempo, and tone, and they all around great on their own, but it’s the journey from start to finish that Cosmogramma exemplifies as a spiritual experience. Cosmogamma was intended to function as a loose concept album of sorts about lucid-dreaming and out of body experiences influenced by the study of the universe, heaven, and hell, and it’s remarkable to hear just how much of that vision that he’s able to convey without the prevalence of vocals. Although electronic music has changed dramatically in the decade since Cosmogramma was released, the execution of FlyLo’s masterpiece hasn’t been in matched, in electronic music or anywhere where else. Cosmogramma is both the pinnacle of where music has been, and a glimpse at the possibilities of where it could go moving forward.

Essentials: “Galaxy in Janaki”, “Do the Astral Plane”, “MmmHmm” ft. Thundercat

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mrsjadecurtiss · 4 years

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The thing that we won’t have a roose chapter it’s kinda sad. Like we will never know if doing certain things (like the red wedding) didn’t minimally affect him or otherwise. Like we can’t forget that he doesn’t EXPRESS his feelings not that he hasn’t any. I know Brabrey said this specifically but as wise she is she can’t read others mind. I’m not justifying any action I’m only saying it would be interesting finding out he actually “gives shit” about things he did. And I know the probabilities of this being true are very low, but as a person myself who has difficulties to express my emotions and seems apathic to others while I feel emotions with the same intensity as everyone I was curious.

Oooh now that you sent your second ask the original one appeared! My reply got a little long; I will use quotes from your ask as “chapter headers” for the different topics so it is easier to understand.

“We will never know if doing certain things (like the red wedding) didn’t minimally affect him or otherwise. [...] I’m not justifying any action I’m only saying it would be interesting finding out he actually “gives shit” about things he did.”

I don't think Roose feels *bad* about the red wedding - he didn’t have to do it after all, it's not like he was under coercion or threat of his life; arguably the entire thing wouldnt have worked without having a strong northern traitor. While Robb's cause was a losing one and this influenced Roose to turn cloak after weighing the alternatives, Roose was not in danger under Robb and his betrayal appears to have been about both minimizing his waste of resources in a losing cause as well as the advantages he can get from this new alliance and what Tywin offers.

Roose appears to fundamentally be a selfish man, who decides his actions after what will give him the most benefit at the smallest risk to his own person. Any regrets i imagine he might feel (this could be what you meant in your ask) would be not on a moral level, but rather about mistakes he made that led him into a position that might not end well for him, and the danger he has gotten himself into.

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. - aDwD

Roose to me represents the worst of feudalism, and the epitome of how someone turns out who is raised at the top of this society and with an unchallenged privilege. He has no respect for the autonomy of the people below him in hierarchy, and sees politics and the power at his hand as a tool to benefit himself first and foremost.

“We can’t forget that he doesn’t EXPRESS his feelings not that he hasn’t any.”

Agreed - for all that he is evil and callous i believe it is shown that he has feelings and emotions, which he generally hides under a mask.

Roose Bolton's own face was a pale grey mask, with two chips of dirty ice where his eyes should be. - aDwD

We know he feels fear about his crumbling political situation, he feels fondness for Walda, he appears to talk about Domeric with affection, he is amused enough by Arya not to punish her, he refuses to break the taboo of kinslaying, and something drives him to keep Ramsay around even though it is not advantageous rationally. He has his wants and needs, he has societal expectations he adheres to (like the expectation to continue his family line), he has a distaste for being disrespected...

As an example of him showing emotion, in the Red Wedding itself i believe grrm intentionally contrasts his behaviour with the prior Jaime chapter: where in his dialogue with Jaime he seems relaxed, talks a lot and is shown enjoying his food, in the Red Wedding he is quiet and doesn’t eat much while exchanging subtle threats with Lord Walder. This appears to show that he was indeed stressed in this high-stakes situation and aware of the danger he was in. Note that the quote from aDwD about him showing fear also explicitly points out that he says "nothing at all" in a time of stress, paralleling his lack of dialogue during the RW chapter. (Catelyn is depressed and so probably not talkative, but he also doesnt engage in dialogue with his wife despite her “chatter”).

I wont expand on it too much in this post for length's sake, but i think it is also likely that Roose shares traits with Ramsay in terms of emotionality (which he then hides under his “mask”, as opposed to his openly emotional son); For example his behaviour of not tolerating disrespect and taking what is "his" in the event with the miller's wife. Some i also briefly touched upon in this meta.

“I know Brabrey said this specifically but as wise she is she can’t read others mind.”

In “The Prince of Winterfell”, Barbrey has a long paragraph about her opinion on Roose. As this is her first longer scene, it is my opinion that her entire long dialogue scene with Theon is meant not only to show insight into some of the characters she talks about, but also about her own character; since the way someone talks about people shows how they think.

The negative way she talks about Roose ( “Roose has no feelings, you see.”) seems to be informed by several things:

- Obviously, his callous and selfish personality and lack of morals

- The fact that Barbrey and Roose clearly have history. Considering that Roose now has Ramsay as his heir, and Barbrey loathes Ramsay for what she believes is his fault in Domeric's death, Barbrey likely harbors some resentment against Roose for this move. This likely boosts her opinion that he is completely emotionless and only "plays with [people]" without caring for them. Her line "He does not love, he does not hate, he does not grieve" seems to contain a certain bitterness, and i believe it at least partially refers to their personal history (one could try to continue her words: he does not love [Barbrey], he does not hate [Ramsay], he does not grieve [Domeric].).

- Barbrey calls Theon's heart "craven and cringing", she calls Wyman Manderly "craven to the bone, that one", and she holds a grudge against Eddard for what he did to her without presenting much understanding for his side of the story. I believe she has a tendency to have a slightly superficial view of people or at least to talk badly about these superficial aspects, informed among other things by their appearance (Ned and Roose are plain, Theon and Wyman have physical deficiencies) and presentation (the colder Roose/Ned vs the outgoing wolf-blooded Brandon), and by the slights she perceived they did to her. She also has a tendency to scapegoat people to cope with grief, like hating on Rickard’s maester for Brandon's marriage.

So while she is right about Roose' callousness and moral bankruptcy and has some correct statements, as a fallible character (as opposed to the all-knowing author) she likely somewhat designs her view of him to fit her own narrative and worldview. So while she is an enticing source since she is close to him, her view on him should be taken with a grain of salt the same way she is not 100% correct about people like Ned or Wyman. Some things she says can be argued with through character analysis, and some things we have concrete quotes we can contrast: For example while she says "I think [Roose] would be pleased if the fat man attempted some betrayal", we know that Roose is in fact worried and bothered by the prospect, and in his dialogue to Ramsay it reads like he describes the unfaithfulness of his allies as threatening instead of an amusement. She also theorizes Roose wants to be king in the north, which seems like an impossible plan in his current political situation and nothing we had any hints towards so far in his scenes (I sometimes like to muse it might have been a reference to grrm's plans for the five year gap).

So basically what i would love a Roose PoV for is turning all the "apparently"s and "maybe"s from my metas into either confident statements or to deconfirm them... Showing some more of his view on the world, some more of his past, how he really feels about people without filtering it through dialogue and political goals... His worries, his anger, his happiness, raw and unfiltered... His long scene with Theon in Reek III practically doubles as half a PoV chapter because of the insane amounts of exposition in his dialogue (Theon barely talks or thinks for pages while Roose talks), but it is still filtered through Theon's impression of him and the agenda Roose might have behind his spoken words to present himself in a certain way.

I like to analyze his character from his lines in the book, and what few quotes I find by grrm in the So Spake Martin collection round out my impression of him well, but I would love to have a view inside his head to really get to the meat of it, and get a view of his true personality without the help of assumptions and implications.

#asoiaf #roose bolton #asoiaf meta #asks #Anonymous #i also relate to what you said about a difficulty expressing emotions and appearing closed off to others #its why i think people shouldnt see roose' closedness and coldness as his entire personality... seems a very onedimensional way to view him #people who are really just 100% unfeeling and aloof usually pretend they arent

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silverwhiteraven · 3 years

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Wings of Broken White - Ch. 3

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 4 ]

[ Summary: Literal and Metaphorical dirt. ]

Hawkmoth had learned the lesson Monarch did not. Do not mix the positive power of a Blessing with negative emotions. Instead, enhance those negative emotions with the power of something else. Let his Champions be fueled by the opposite of a Blessing, something that haunts and feasts on darkness.

Give them Demons; give them an Akuma.

But still. He knew that he had to pick carefully what emotions he harnessed and the people behind them. Hawkmoth couldn’t afford to lose control of another Champion. And Gabriel refused to risk his son.

So he bided his time, researching and studying whatever he could. And while he waited, he built his public empire, funding his underground renovations and the care needed to keep his wife healthy.

Still alive, Emilie was kept that way in a chemically induced coma to prevent further deterioration. To the public, she was missing. In private, she was under the care of doctors from the world’s best medical center, Mayo Clinic.

Adrien would have been aware of her whereabouts were it not for the mistake and loss of control over Monarch’s Blessing. Gabriel had delayed telling his son the truth, and now there was no way to tell what would happen if he knew; what powers White Rose had truly gained beyond what was originally planned.

The thing is, Hawkmoth would have never surfaced if Gabriel could have prevented it. He was ready to let his wife go. But he still needed to find a way to remove the Blessing from Adrien, so he continued to use the Butterfly Miraculous, continued learning about it and the others.

But Adrien just had to go missing one early morning, barely before the sun had risen. Gabriel couldn't find him, neither could Adrien’s ever-present bodyguard. So in an act of desperation, Hawkmoth was brought to be. He then Akumatized the worried and protective bodyguard, granting him an ability to track down their shared ward.

This only furthered things along and also put them to a grinding stop.

The wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous arose to combat Hawkmoth’s Champion. Rather than admit why he was using the Butterfly in a dark way, he decided to reveal his last-ditch plan that he thought he would never bring himself to use, anyways.

He demanded their Miraculous. He was glad they refused, because he would not trust anyone so willing to give up such dangerous powers so easily instead of using them to protect.

So while plans to experiment with the use of Akumas were furthered, it was the mix of one Blessing and one Hero that halted everything.

Paris had very few albino citizens. It would be almost too easy to track down the potential civilian identities of Chat Blanc. But those white wings tipped in blue, so similar yet so contrasting to the black Starling wings of a younger Adrien? There was no way to deny such a similarity. And the Black Cat Miraculous itself would not change it’s own color scheme on a whim, either. Monarch himself had experimented with designs and color palettes, learning that only significant enchantments and magical interference could cause anything even a noticeable difference, not to mention such an extreme as turning Black to White.

The last nail in that theory's coffin was how Hawkmoth could feel the whispers of the Blessing influencing Chat Blanc. Certainly, it could have been a much older Blessing from a previous Butterfly Holder, but Gabriel highly doubted such coincidences could stack like this.

So, Gabriel accepted the facts. He felt heartbroken for his son that had to fight him, even if Chat Blanc didn’t know who he was fighting behind Hawkmoth’s mask. But he was so proud of him, too. Monarch’s Champion White Rose was doing what he was meant to; protect others from the harm of the Miraculous. And Gabriel’s son Adrien was free to be happy, as happy as he never was when inside the Agreste mansion, even when Emilie was still walking its halls. So Gabriel and Hawkmoth did nothing more than play his part as the fatherly villain.

He really didn’t mind how long it would take for it all to come to a close.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite her semi-disastrous first time as Ladybug, Marinette rather enjoyed the side-job.

Akuma’s were few and far between, and oftentimes could be talked down instead of fought head to head. Their abilities oftentimes got dangerous, yes, but Ladybug and Chat Blanc, not to mention the rest of Paris, were more than thankful that their Supervillain seemed to have at least some sort of moral code. He would prevent Akumatized villains from causing mass amounts of damage. Once, he had even taken back the powers and the Akuma that granted them, all because the Champion he had made was being unreasonably dangerous to innocent civilians.

Sometimes, she swore Hawkmoth would Akumatize students just so the whole district would have to let school out early due to the emergency. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids, maybe a child of his own? Either way, she appreciated the breaks.

Soon enough, a whole six months had passed since Hawkmoth first appeared.

The most recent attack had been earlier that evening. Marinette had to distract her Akumatized friend Nathaniel. He was akumatized because of Chloé. She had made fun of his art, at first. Then, to make things worse, she told him that he was right to have his and his boyfriend Marc’s hero-sonas to both be wingless, because the ones Nathaniel had were ‘wasted on his talentless existence’ and ‘if Marc wasn’t already wingless, then they would be utterly useless on him, too’. In general, it was a rather nasty scene.

Marinette had been quick to tell her to back off and leave Nathaniel and Marc alone. Adrien has sprung up right after her, telling Chloé not to talk to his friends like that, and even if she is his oldest friend he wasn't okay with her actions.

Marinette was proud of Adrien for standing up for others in the face of someone important to him. It was brave.

Unfortunately, their combined efforts didn’t prevent the Akumatization. Luckily, Evillustrator wasn’t a bad villain, he just really wanted to mess with Chloé with revenge-pranks.

Marinette got herself caught up in it by distracting him with other ideas. For example, using his power to create objects to set up a date with Marc. Chat Blanc had shown up part way into the setup of said date, and as a way to prevent Evillustrator from starting a fight, she had roped him into helping with the decoration ideas and music selection. He turned out to be a natural with romantic set-ups, and an even smoother talker, convincing Evillustrator to hand over his Akumatized item in exchange for them escorting Marc to the date’s location.

Marinette had managed to step away long enough while Blanc went to find Marc to transform into Ladybug, and called for her Lucky Charm just in case. It was nothing more than a red rose and she laughed happily to have a simple item with obvious intentions.

When Blanc returned, she showed herself and offered the rose to her partner, trying not to be flustered by her own romantic gesture. “Hold this for me, Kitty? I need to make sure their date goes well, and that means Nathaniel has to be here for it. Don’t want yours and Marinette's efforts to go to waste, now do we?”

Then, she took the Akumatized item from Blanc and broke it, purifying the butterfly within.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Blanc looked a tad confused. “As soon as you call for Miraculous Ladybug, everything Evillustrator made will disappear. Their date will go poof!”

Ladybug smiled knowingly. “Already thought that through. You hold on to that rose, okay? Or maybe let Nathaniel hold it? As long as I can find it again later, just make sure it’s safe. I’ll use Miraculous Ladybug long after their date is over, so nothing will get spoiled. Gotta go, Bug out!”

She returned to the scene as Marinette once more, finding a de-Akumatized Nathaniel on a successful date with Marc, and Chat Blanc still watching over them, happy for the couple. Satisfied, she made her way home, away from the setting sun.

Now, it was completely dark out and Marinette was drinking a thermos of hot chocolate on her balcony, wrapped in a warm blanket. The quiet night got interrupted by a shadow moving over the rooftops, followed by white boots lightly thumping onto her balcony. She sat up, surprised to see Chat Blanc still lurking about the city. He bowed theatrically with a gentle smile.

“Princess, what a lovely evening to see you! I presume I have found you safe and happy in your tower tonight?”

Marinette couldn't help but laugh. “You saw me maybe two hours ago, pretty-gryphlet, you know I’m perfectly fine.”

“True, but as your loyal, trustworthy, and handsome White Knight, I am obliged to check on you anyways.” He had bowed again and taken her hand, kissing the air above her knuckles ceremoniously. She had to fight back both her blush and her wing’s desire to flutter bashfully where they were hidden under the blanket.

“Silly gryphlet,” she smiled, before noticing his gloves were stained and had left some of it on her fingers. Then she noticed the dark spots on his boots and knees as well. She frowned in confusion, inspecting what was on her hand. “Why are you covered in dirt?”

“That dirty little secret,” he deflected the question easily with his pun and a cheeky smile, “I will explain soon. But first, I gotta ask, why do you call me ‘pretty Griflet’? I already know I look amazing, but is Griflet a reference to one of the knights of the Round Table? If so, I am honored to have such recognition.”

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “No, not a knight, a gryphon. You know, a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle? You’re a cat, and you have wings, hence, gryphlet!” She explained proudly, before realizing how embarrassing it was to nickname one of the local Superheroes and retreated into her blanket.

Chat Blanc blinked owlishly at her explanation, but soon a smile bloomed on his face, and she could swear he was blushing under his mask.

“I like it,” he said softly, looking gentle and earnest.

“S-So anyways! Blanc Chat, I mean, Chat Blanc, I uh, You say were? Were saying? About the, uhm, dirt?” She turned away, grabbing her thermos to keep her hands busy.

“Oh! Right!” He brightened even more, his eyes starting to look like that of an excited kitten. “Come with me somewhere, Princess? I know it’s cold out so I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to show you something.”

She nodded, standing up and setting the thermos aside. Then she hesitated, once more remembering her wings. “I...Blanc, can you keep a secret for me?”

“Of course, what is it?” He looked curious and just so innocent. She couldn’t do it.

“Uh, never mind, next time, okay? I don’t think I’m ready. To say anything, I mean, not that I don’t want to see what you want to show me, but also I’m not ready to go yet for that either, wait, i meant-!” She closed her mouth with a snap, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. “What I mean is, let me just get something from my room real quick? I should really put on shoes and something warmer than pajamas. Then we can go!”

“Of course! I’ll be here when you’re done.” Oh Kwami, he was so patient with her, and understanding, too. Could he get any nicer, she wondered?

She fumbled her way back into her room, swiftly putting on a wing-binder, thick white leggings, and a warm long-sleeved baby blue dress. She remembered to grab some shoes, too. As she climbed back up to the balcony, she tried to ignore the fact that she had chosen to wear colors close to Chat Blanc’s. From the look on his face, he was probably trying not to think about it too much, either. “Ready, Marinette?”

“Ready. So uhm, how are we going to get there?” she shuffled on her feet, hands fidgeting.

He grabbed the thermos she had set down and put it into her hands, warming them, and subsequently her cheeks, too.

Politely he asked, “Permission to carry you?”

“Granted? Wait, carry? Like, on your back carry or- Woah!” He answered by sweeping her into a classic princess carry. “Uh, works, I guess, this does? I mean- Okay,” she finally squeaked out.

He chuckled and held her securely, but gentle. “Let’s not waste time. Hold on tight!”

She didn't scream dramatically when he jumped from her balcony, but she also won't admit she might have squeaked again from the unfamiliar feeling of jumping over rooftops while untransformed, let alone while being carried.

But the trip to their destination really was rather short, as only a couple minutes later he was setting her back down on her own two feet.

The rooftop was surrounded by decorative iron fencing. Candles, protected from the wind in glass jars, lined the top of the railing and between the bars. What really caught her eyes, however, where the Lily-of-the-Valley flowers spread around decoratively. She couldn't help but gape at them. The scene was gorgeous, and she wondered why Chat Blanc had brought her here. Did he do this? Was this why he was covered in dirt? She turned to him where he stood looking almost nervous for her reaction.

“Chat...It’s beautiful. Did you set this up? Did you get these flowers yourself?”

He perked up, glad to see she wasn’t reacting badly. “I did. I also learned I’m a really bad gardener,” he chuckled, and she smiled, amused. “And don’t worry, I didn’t steal any of this stuff, it was all mine already. Well, sort of. The candles were my Mother’s, and I use them sometimes. The flowers came from our yard- They would have died soon anyways, the brief warm spell this week made them bloom too early, so I thought I might as well put them to use. So, you like it, Marinette?”

She giggled and nodded, looking away shyly. “Why set all this up, anyways? Special night?”

He nodded, his own gaze shy as well. “Sort of? Ladybug trusted me with something. And earlier today, this amazing girl I know helped me take down an Akuma. So I wanted to prove I can be trusted with Ladybug’s thing, while also getting to show that amazing girl how much I appreciated her, even if it is only for a little bit. Here,” he stepped to the side, bringing Marinette’s curious gaze to a small table she hadn't noticed before.

It had a few more candles and flowers on it, but there was a delicate vase in the center. She quietly gasped as she noticed the red rose, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm, sitting in the vase. Chat Blanc plucked it from its place and held it out to her.

“For the most creative and wonderful Princess in all of Paris,” he smiled, bowing as he presented the rose. He chuckled sheepishly, then, “Well, you can’t keep it forever, because it is Ladybug’s, but I figured that if anyone was worthy of keeping it safe until she needed it, that person would be you.”

Dumbfounded and flustered into silence, Marinette accepted the rose with her free hand.

“Well, I guess I should take you back home now, huh?” He asked awkwardly.

“O-Oh, uh, sure,” she agreed, still distracted as she held the red rose close to her chest.

This time, she was prepared for him to lift her, and she stayed quiet on their way back to her balcony. This time, she noticed how warm he was and just how easy it was to trust him even as a civilian. She wouldn't admit to being sad when he set her down again, though.

“Until next time, Princess; I hope to see you again,” once more he took her hand and gave the air over her knuckles a kiss, but before he could let go, she clutched his fingers tight, pulling his attention up to her eyes.

“Uhm- It’s cold out, and I barely touched my hot chocolate anyways.” She turned his hand over and set her thermos into his palm. “Take it with you. You can return it, next time we meet.”

He beamed at her and nodded. “It’s a date,” he winked teasingly, and she giggled. “See you later, then. Have a goodnight, Princess.”

And just like that, he was gone, and Marinette was left a blushing mess on her balcony until Tikki finally came out and told her to go to bed.

In the morning, the red rose was still where she left it on her desk, proving the night before was no dream. Tikki then informed her that it had slushed a bit while she slept, so she should be careful when she goes outside.

Ladybug went off in the early morning to check on Evillustrator’s reactions, only to find that they had been washed away by the sleet. It seemed that just like all other forms of art, even the magical creations of an Akuma were susceptible to the natural elements when exposed long enough.

So that morning, Ladybug returned an intact Lucky Charm to Marinette’s room, and Marinette got to keep the gift of an everlasting red rose.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #marichat #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously. Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #moceit #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured is: race among the ruins - gordon lightfoot #pics are free to use from unsplash and wikimedia commons

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passionate-reply · 4 years

Video

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Great Albums is back for a third time! This week, we discuss Dazzle Ships, the avant-garde masterpiece that was so infamously weird, it almost “sank” the pop career of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Or did it? As usual, you can find a full transcript of the video under the break, if you’d like to read it instead.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums. Today, I’ll be talking about an album that many would consider OMD’s best, and many would consider the last great album they ever made: 1983’s Dazzle Ships, their fourth studio LP. It has a reputation that precedes it, as a strange, experimental, and avant-garde album. And I can’t argue with that too much, when it has tracks that sound like "ABC Auto-Industry."

The most obvious thing one can say about Dazzle Ships is that it’s dense and rich with samples. You’ll hear found sounds ranging from a “Speak and Spell” toy to a radio broadcast from Czechoslovakia. It’s a magpie’s nest constructed of garbage and baubles, collage-like and conscientiously artificial. And OMD’s Paul Humphreys and Andy McCluskey managed to make it before sampling became easier and hence more widespread later in the 1980s, thanks to advancements in digital technology. In its own day, it was, famously, a huge flop, baffling even the critics, which makes it tempting to argue that the world simply wasn’t ready for it. Popular legend says that Humphreys and McCluskey were essentially forced to make increasingly soft, pop-oriented music for years afterward, usually at the hands of their label’s higher-ups.

Is that story really true? Well, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if anybody really does. But I think it’s important that we entertain some doubt. Regardless of its actual veracity, this legend is offering us a simplistic narrative of art and capital butting heads, and one that we see repeated all too often in music journalism. It’s a story that expects us to believe that experimental music is good by default, and the natural goal of music and all the people who make it--and, conversely, that accessible music is bad, and anyone who writes a song you can dance to is always after profit, never craft.

Ultimately, though, the most important reason why I’m asking you to leave this question at the gate is that it’s simply a less interesting way to think about art. What I think is truly ingenious about OMD is their ability to combine a pop sensibility with that bleeding-edge experimentation, and vice versa. I don’t think of Dazzle Ships as just an inscrutable, esoteric musical ready-made, but rather something capable of animating and enriching a bunch of otherwise mundane sounds. A word I might use for it is "challenging," because it isn't simply off-putting--it has a certain charm that invites you to stick around and work through it, and you don't feel like it's a waste of your time. I think the underlying pop DNA offered by Dazzle Ships is a big part of that.

In “Genetic Engineering,” the samples from that Speak & Spell are contrasted with a more traditional chorus, which rises above the chaos, stirring and anthemic. It’s a song full of friction, not only between these musical ideas, but in ideas about technology and our future. Like many great works of electronic music, especially earlier in its history, Dazzle Ships is deeply concerned with science and technology, and the ways they’ve structured our world. These guys wrote “Enola Gay” a few years earlier, sure, but there’s much more than Luddite, dystopian thinking here! Dazzle Ships walks a tightrope between romantic adoration of the promise of a better tomorrow, and the tempered uncertainty we’re forced to develop, when we witness the devastation our most horrifying inventions have wrought already. Something that helps sell the former is the motif of childhood: in addition to the Speak & Spell, “Genetic Engineering” also features a children’s toy piano, and prominently references “children” in its lyrics. And “Telegraph,” the album’s other single, sees fit to reference “Daddy.”

Touches like these, and the centering of not-so-new technologies like telegraphy and radio, carry us backward in time. Dazzle Ships has a sense of nostalgia for the technological explosion of the Midcentury, when household technologies were improving in ways that saved time and labour, and faith in “better living through science” was high. It’s not a wistful or introspective nostalgia, but rather one that taps into the bustling excitement of living through that era. That retro styling helps us situate ourselves in a childlike mindset: optimistic, but somewhat naive. Children are highly imaginative, and become enthralled with possibility, but don’t always understand every implication their actions have.

But, as I said, “Telegraph” and “Genetic Engineering” were the album’s singles; the typical track on *Dazzle Ships* sounds more like “ABC Auto-Industry.” The track listing is structured such that these more conventional songs are surrounded by briefer, and more abrasive, intrusions. They become signals in the noise, as though we’re listening to them on the radio--or ships, rising above some stormy seas. Several tracks, such as “International,” also feature a more dissonant intro, on top of that, crowding their main melodies inward.

Over the years, many critics have been quick to contrast Dazzle Ships with OMD’s other albums, but I actually think it has a lot in common with their preceding LP, 1981’s Architecture & Morality, and seems to me to flow naturally from the direction the band had already been going in. Architecture & Morality is a lively mix, with moody instrumentals like “Sealand,” guitar-driven numbers like “The New Stone Age,” and catchy, intuitive pop songs like “Souvenir.” Architecture and Morality proved to be their most successful album, when its title track sounds like this. I fail to see how it’s tremendously different than the title track of Dazzle Ships, which leads us on a harrowing sea chase, with radar pings quickly closing in.

That nautical theme is a great segue to discuss the album’s visual motif. Like all of OMD's first five albums, its sleeve was designed by Peter Saville, most famous for his stunning work for New Order. The cover and title were inspired by a painting Saville had seen, Edward Wadsworth’s *Dazzle Ships in Drydock at Liverpool,* which portrays WWI warships painted in striking, zebra-like geometric patterns. These sharply contrasting “razzle dazzle” designs weren’t “camouflage,” but rather served to confuse enemy forces’ attempts to track them, and predict their motions. Dazzle ships were killing machines that fought dirty...and they were also beautiful. It’s a potent, complex symbol, and it’s a natural fit for an album that’s also capricious, perplexing, and captivating in its uniquely modern terror. Saville’s sleeve design features both a die-cut design as well as a gatefold; peeking through the cover’s “portholes” reveals the interior, where we find a map of the world, divided by time zones. It’s yet another reminder of how technology has reshaped the planet, connecting the human race while also creating divisions.

Earlier, I argued that Dazzle Ships isn’t that different from OMD’s preceding LP, and I’d also suggest that their follow-ups to it aren’t all that different, either. It’s easy to see the influence of Dazzle Ships on their most recent work, made after reforming the group in the late 00s, and informed by the critical re-evaluation and cult acclaim of their alleged masterpiece. But even in the 80s, they basically continued the pattern of layering easy to love, “obvious single choice” tracks alongside more experimental, sample-heavy ones. Compare the title track of their sixth LP, 1985's *Crush.*

Even the greatest of pop hitmakers can't maintain a streak in the charts forever--it's not the nature of mainstream pop charts. Not even in the 1980s, when you could get away with quite a lot of electronic weirdness...at least for a while. Looking back and listening to "Maid of Orleans," it's almost hard to believe it was one of OMD's biggest hits. Is it really less weird than something like "Telegraph"? Perhaps they had simply reached the end of their imperial phase...whether they really had that stern talking-to or not.

It's not so much that Dazzle Ships isn't weird, so much as it is foreseeable that a nerdy, left-of-center band like OMD would have come up with it. Dazzle Ships IS excellent--it’s a Great Album! But it's good enough that I think it deserves to be heard and valued on its own terms. The album is too goddamn good--too compelling, too spell-binding--to be reduced to "that one album the plebs were too dumb to really get." I'm not clearing the air because I think this album is overrated, but because I think it deserves better, deeper discourse than it gets. A truly great album is great whether it sells or it doesn't, right? My advice is to never let art intimidate you, no matter how obtuse people say it is. Send your ship on that plunge into the dark waters of the unknown--you might find something beautiful.

That said...my favourite track overall is “Radio Waves,” an irresistibly fun cut that could easily have become a third single. Since “Genetic Engineering” and “Telegraph” live on side one of the record, “Radio Waves” is really the only “reprieve” we get on side two, smack in its middle. It really stands out, in context--almost like the opposite of how a more conventional album might have one out-there track that catches you off guard. Aside from all of that, though, the song also stands perfectly well alone. I have a real soft spot for music about music, how it’s made and transmitted, and “Radio Waves” is simply one hell of a ride.

Thanks for reading!

#great albums #music #omd #orchestral manoeuvres in the dark #album review #album reviews #dazzle ships #peter saville

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suca-loca · 5 years

Text

slip of the tongue.

Pairing: Anxceit (Virgil/Janus)

Tags: Sympathetic!Janus, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Author’s Note: I completed this a week before Deceit’s name was revealed so... oops. That’s why he’s named Damien in this fic. Also, the Eleanor and Park book is kinda problematic. The quote I reference here really touched me during a hard time which is why I used it, although I do not recommend reading it because the representation is b l e g h .

————

“Holy shit.”

Damien hides his face in his hands.

“Holy. Shit.”

A sound eerily similar to that of a dying bear leaves Damien’s mouth.

Virgil laughs. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He explodes like a shaken Coca Cola can until he’s nothing but a mess of overflowing tears and fizzling out snorts.

Beside him on the couch, Damien grabs one of the pillows. “Oh, how I adore seeing you enjoy yourself over me acting like a fool,” he grumbles as he smacks it over Virgil’s head. “It really shows how great of a boyfriend you are.”

Virgil, unable to speak - because he’s currently bent over, clutching at his sides - responds with two middle fingers.

Damien reaches for the last remaining couch pillow.

“No!” Virgil somehow wheezes out, the terror in his voice terribly contrasting against the grin on his face. “I’ll stop! I’ll stop!”

Damien doesn’t believe him. He throws it without mercy.

He was right to see through Virgil’s lie because two minutes pass before Virgil finally gets it out of his system. All the while Damien waits at the opposite end of the couch, watching with a pout as his boyfriend begins to crawl towards him.

“That-“ Virgil wipes away one last tear from his eye - “was beautiful. Truly the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. I would love to see it on the big screen, looping for ten hours.”

Damien gives him a (totally real) disgusted look as a kiss is pressed against his cheek. “You are insufferable.”

“Is that why you made my pancakes this morning in the shape of hearts?”

“You’re totally right! Next time I won’t go through the trouble of making the pancakes into different shapes. I’ll just poison them.”

Virgil chuckles.

“Don’t you start again!” Damien groans, looking like he wants the couch to become quicksand and swallow him up. “I’ll get up and grab the pillows from the floor. Watch me.”

“Sorry,” Virgil says in a tone that is definitely not at all sorry. “It’s just...You just called my dad, Dad. That’s, like, better than when you said you loved me for the first time.”

It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Damien watches in horror as he sees Virgil’s shoulders begin to shake as the memory comes back to him.

“It wasn’t a slip of the tongue if you consider the circumstances!” He cries out, desperately not wanting to sit through another one of Virgil’s cackling.

He only realizes what he said when Virgil’s dimples disappear and are replaced with a curious look.

“Oh?” Virgil coos, smirking in the same way that made Damien fall in love with him all those years ago. “Care to explain what these circumstances are, D?”

Damien fiddles with the hem of his pajama shirt. He’s blushing.

“Well,” he inhales sharply, suddenly acting so small and nervous in a way Virgil has never seen from him in the four years they’ve known each other. “I should get used to calling him dad since he’ll become my father-in-law.”

Virgil stills. “What?”

Deceit stands up, only to then drop to one knee.

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to inhale sharply.

“Virgil Hart,” Damien looks up at him with clear adoration and a voice oozing with love from just those two words, “Years ago, for some odd - and very stupid - reason you risked sitting in a jail cell for a guy you didn’t know.”

Virgil blushes, the day they met coming back to him in pieces. He remembers sneaking out of his college dorm room past curfew to join a protest. Remembers how the protest turned south as sirens could be heard ten blocks down. Remembers the adrenaline that passed through him as he chucked an egg at one of the cops who was in the middle of arresting some guy. Remembers the adrenaline being replaced with fear as the cop charged at him, only to then be pulled down the street by the same man he rescued.

Remembers the two of them hiding in a thrift shop that sold dildos and smelled too much like weed. Remembers learning the man’s name was Damien from the slip of paper handed to him with a phone number. Remembers getting caught sneaking back into his dorm room and not even caring as the principal shouted at him because he was too busy thinking about what a great runner Damien was. He also remembers thinking how great it was to run behind Damien.

“And now,” Damien says as he presses a kiss against Virgil’s hand, “because of your lack of control that day, we sit here in this apartment that we share. With plates still in the sink that is your turn to wash, with two cats I gifted Patton curled up on our beds because you never told me he was allergic and with the insides of my favorite sweaters smudged with black lipstick because no matter where I hide them you always find them,

But, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Which I now realize, given my moral compass, doesn’t say much, so let me rephrase; I wouldn’t change it even if it meant I had to delete all my eat the rich tweets. I didn’t realize it then, but I fell in love with you the moment I heard that egg crack against the cop's helmet. I only continued to fall more in love with you as you sent me memes past midnight and the way you scrunch up your face every time someone admits to never reading one of Edgar Allan Poe’s work. You are an inspiration to me and I hope that you remain only my inspiration. Which is why, Virgil Hart, I ask you today...”

Damien slips out a ring. It’s all black, except for the purple jewel at the center, decorated with petals curling to where the diamond sits.

“Will you marry me?”

Virgil blinks.

“There’s cheeto dust on the hoodie I’m wearing.”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “Excellent observation skills.”

“Our cats’ assholes combined are in a better state than my hair right now,” Virgil continues.

“Thank you for the mental image.”

“I gained ten pounds this week!”

“I was wondering why our cuddling sessions felt better.”

“I’m pretty sure my breath smells like Remus’ room.”

“I’m well aware. I kissed you good morning, remember?”

“Then why the fuck do you still have the ring out?!” Virgil huffs, pulling his hands away. He gestures to himself. “Do I look like a picture-worthy fiancé?”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is… I should propose after you’ve taken a shower?”

“No!”

Virgil yanks his hands away. He does it so hard Damien is surprised the other doesn’t send him flying backwards. His temper flares and his mouth snaps open to say something snarky, but it shuts when his eyes fall on the emo’s face.

Sad isn’t the right word to use. It’s devastation. Even with Virgil burying his face against the knees hugged to his chest Damien can see how hard his lips wobble and the way his eyes blink rapidly against the incoming of tears.

“Why can’t you see I’m not worthy to be a fiancé?” He croaks, voice going weaker towards the end. “Much less yours?”

Damien wastes no time cradling Virgil’s face in his hands. He rubs the pad of his thumb against Virgil’s left cheek, knowing it’ll help calm him down.

“Eleanor was right,” he begins, voice softer than the most expensive silk money could buy. “She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.”

Virgil’s breath hitches. “Eleanor and Park, chapter 28, page 165. My favorite quote.”

Damien clicks his tongue. “And yet the message escapes you. You’re not stupid, mi vida. So stop acting like it. You’re too good to fall for society's expectations of beauty.”

Virgil looks ready to interject, but Damien keeps going.

“When I bought this ring it wasn’t because I thought every angle was your best angle. It wasn’t because you lack fewer fat rolls than other people. It was because of how you showed up at my door with my favorite movie and snacks after I got a bad grade on an exam. It’s because of how you headbang and jump around the living room every time I put The Crow soundtrack on when we clean.”

Damien brushes Virgil’s bangs to the side. He presses a kiss against his boyfriend’s forehead. Virgil is quiet through all of this.

“And most importantly, it’s because whenever I picture myself happy it’s with you.”

A sob breaks through the silence. Tears, big fat crocodile ones, pour down Virgil’s face. For a second Damien thinks he said something wrong, but then Virgil swoops down to capture his lips in a kiss.

There’s nothing soft about it. Not even three seconds in and Virgil’s hand tugs at his long locks, making Damien see stars. Somehow he’s able to break through the daze and wrap his arms around Virgil’s back, pulling him close until there’s no space between them.

Besides the occasional growl and groan, there’s just the sound of their heavy breathing whenever they disconnect for a few seconds and then continue where they left off. Virgil plays dirty by wrapping his legs around the other’s waist, so Damien retaliates by biting at his lips.

When they break apart, eyes half-lidded and hands still wandering, they smile at one another.

“Brilliant idea,” Damien breaks the silence first, voice rough like sandpaper. “Kissing me while you’re crying. Now all I can taste is salt - ow!”

Damien rubs the spot where Virgil threw a pillow at him. All the while Virgil sticks out the same tongue just shoved down his throat a second ago.

“Well played,” Damien grumbles.

Virgil shrugs. “It was either the pillow or not saying yes.”

“Truly, what a difficult decision. Me versus your fragile pride.”

“Shut up and give me the ring before I hit you twice.”

Damien rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness behind them as he slips the ring on. All the while Virgil is smiling so wide and so hard he doesn’t know how his face doesn’t crack from the pressure.

Virgil knows for a fact that his eyes are puffy, that his nose is running and that his face is the same color as a cherry. But he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the man in front of him, with his beautiful mind and a stunning smile currently aimed (and from now on always will be) only at him.

“I love you.”

Damien doesn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

Damien watches with love in his eyes as Virgil’s eyes crinkle around the corners.

He then watches with confusion as Virgil pulls out his phone.

“Oh no,” Damien groans, “don’t tell me you’re going to tell your Tumblr followers the news first.”

“First off, fuck you. You’re just sour over the fact that Remus was the first person I told about my Tumblr account. Secondly,” Virgil puts the phone to his ear. “No, I’m not.”

The person on the other end of the line picks up on the first ring.

“Kiddo, I was hoping you’d call back! Tell Damien I don’t mind what he said. I take it as a compliment, truly!”

Virgil smiles. “I’ll do you one better. How about I give you the phone to talk to him yourself?”

He hands the phone over.

Damien, once again, doesn’t hesitate.

“Good morning, father-in-law.”

#Sanders Sides #Thomas Sanders #Anxceit #Virgil #Deceit #Patton #very briefly though #Sympathetic!Deceit #my fic

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aziraphalesangel · 4 years

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#there is so much i could say about betsey's family/home life based soley off implications from ep 1 and 4 that explain her self worth issues#remind me and I'll make a post maybe <-- yes please write a meta on Betsey! I miss your metas, and we talk so little about Betsey aside form her support of Adil and Toby

okay so, I know I said based off ep1 and ep4, but I firstly want to make a really quick point about ep7 because it sort of sets up some of my argument.

So, in episode 7 right at the end Sonny make a point about Betsey when he tells Garland “She sings as if her heart is breaking. You know the best part? It’s all an act. She doesn’t mean a word of it”. Why should we believe, especially this late in the show, that her act stops when she gets off the stage? She has a reputation, and Betsey absolutely plays into it, regardless of how it actually reflects on her. Other people’s comments can’t hurt her if her every reaction to them is saying “so what if I am?”

Mostly what I was referring to in my original tag was Betsey’s introduction in episode 1, and the introduction of her mother in episode 4. Because intoductions are important, and because Gloria’s characterisation tells us so much about Betsey, in that it provides context to how she is now, whilst also showing us what her life was like before.

Emma introduces us to Betsey, but it isn’t really until Mrs Hobbs comes in and says “You can tell your little whore friend...” that the audience really gets a feel for how people perceive Betsey. Betsey’s face is hidden from the other characters in the room, so only the audience gets to see her face drop when she hears Mrs Hobbs. After Hobbs leaves, Betsey acts really put up upon and over dramatic, after which we mostly just assume is how Betsey is after that, because that’s how she acts all the time. She’s always a little dramatic, a little fast, and very confident in herself. But for a few seconds before she lets Emma see, you can tell she’s actually really hurt. There’s also the implication that this isn’t the first time someone’s called her that too.

Then, of course, is the absolute mine field that is Betesy’s relationship with her mother. She shows up unannounced, likely would have left in the same manner under normal circumstances. Sonny knows her, but Garland doesn’t, this and other points implying that Gloria hasn’t seen Betsey since she started working at the Halcyon, but on an aside, very sweetly implies that the Sonny Sullivan Band have been together long before they came to the hotel. There’s the implication that Gloria disappears on Betsey all the time, including when she was a child. She’s poor, she’s a thief, she’s racist, she’s a drunk, she’s over confident and dramatic to make up for the fact that she is hyper-aware that she does not fit in with the clientele, or even the staff to a degree, at the hotel.

Gloria calls the man she was living with “Martin” rather than “Your Father” when she talks about leaving him to Betsey, and Betsey only ever refers to this man as “Him”, compared to how Gloria then follows up with “I’ve moved in with your aunt”, which has just enough contrast to draw attention to it. Which could imply any number of things, but mostly seems to allow the audience that a) Betsey has no emotional attachment to this man, and b) that she doesn’t particularly like or think highly of him. But the point I’m trying to make here is that Gloria has clearly been living with Martin on and off for a fairly long time at this point, and he mostly likely has no relation to Betsey, but, Gloria’s last name is still Day, same as Betsey. From this, we infer that Gloria and Martin aren’t married, which was a big deal in the 40s for obvious reasons. As such, it would have been fairly common for Gloria to have been called a wh*re and similar names due to this, and of course, this would transfer onto Betsey, regardless of her own sex life, because of the idea that if your parents are a certain way then their children must be the same.

Which brings me to my next point, when Sonny tells Gloria “Can’t promise anything Miss Day.” as she leaves again.

MISS Day. Not Mrs. Gloria never married. Which means Betsey is illegitimate.

Illegitimate children a written off by society before they’re even born. People will automatically assume they will never amount to anything, and then on top of that, Gloria isn’t the kind of woman that society would respect either. Gloria being the single mother to an illegitimate daughter, plus Betsey’s comments about her hemlines, could possibly be argued that Gloria did sex work at some point, possibly fairly recently, likely stopping when Martin let her move in - which says something about the type of man he is... - which of course, transfers onto Betsey too. Additionally, based on this, it is likely that not only Betsey, but possibly even Gloria, don’t have any idea of who Betsey’s father is, further exacerbating the issue.

In actual fact, Betsey’s comment “She’s drinking less and her hems are longer, really think this time she’ll stick around” very closely mimics not just Betsey’s reputation as other people perceive her, but also her own ideas about who she is - “easy come easy go, that’s Betsey Day for you.” and “I’m a flirt and I drink too much”. In this way, it appears that Betsey unconsciously sees her mother’s life as a mirror to her own, as well as something to be avoided at all costs, and even narratively, Gloria mirrors Betsey in this way, to the point that Emma quite literally points it out to us when she says “at least we know where you get it from”. Betsey’s face is so tightly controlled when Emma says this too; in fact the entire scene where they’re both looking for Gloria, Betsey keeps her face blank and her voice flat and emotionless, even when she apologises to Emma for dragging her into this, and when Emma tries to sympathise, Betsey cracks for a second and immediately leaves. We talk about how other characters are terrible with emotions, but Betsey really doesn’t like being vulnerable, even around Emma, who is supposed to be her best friend. The one exception to this is Sonny, and that’s because he doesn’t let her bottle it up, and in return trusts her with his own vulnerably.

However, this further implies that people have never been permanent fixtures in Betsey’s life in the general sense. Whether or not Gloria walking out on Betsey was her forgetting her at home/on the street for a handful of days or weeks, or dropping her off an an orphanage for months or years before trying to get her back, is obviously unknown. But if Betsey doesn’t even trust Emma not to leave her if she knows the truth about her/her mother, then of course it makes sense that Betsey has fallen into a come-and-go mentality, and leaves everything behind every few years when she feels like she is getting too attached.

Furthermore, the fact that multiple people tell us that Betsey drinks a lot and sleeps around, even Betsey herself, but despite this we never actually see this ourselves. We only see her take a drink once, clearly a first drink of the night, right before she goes on stage in ep4. I just find it interesting that despite people calling her a drunk, we never actually see it, especially since we see Toby drunk more than once, and Joe literally day drinks. And ordinarily, this type of telling instead of showing would be bad writing, but based on everything else, Betsey saying “...and I drink too much” feels like this narrative that’s been pushed on her so heavily that Betsey started parroting it too, regardless of if it’s true or not.

Therefore, I would argue that most of Betsey’s reputation is heavily exaggerated because of who she is, her family, and how she grew up. And she embraces this reputation as a defence mechanism to prevent other people getting close to her, so she doesn’t get hurt when they leave, because from what she’s experienced, people always leave eventually. People get this idea that she’s morally questionable because she’s illegitimate, and whilst Gloria does try for Betsey to a degree, she largely exacerbates this problem and makes things generally harder for Betsey to manage, because her mother basically represents all her dirty laundry. As such, not only does Sonny returning her feelings genuinely surprise Betsey, but the way he never asks anything of her except asking her to stay breaks through to her so unexpectedly that she can’t even try to hold him at arm’s length after that.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #ask #the halcyon #the halcyon meta #betsey day #gloria day

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chibivesicle · 4 years

Text

Golden Kamuy chapters 239 & 240 - character background arrives for Kikuta

Hello all, this is a much belated meta for the past two chapters. I was very busy with work last weekend and I’m feeling the usual work related exhaustion with the covid-19 situation on top of it. I’m currently living in a part of the States which still has a much stricter social distancing policy and it is still unclear when I can return to work, even if we follow new social distancing policies. Suffice to say, it has been a huge struggle for me. I’m already more prone to suffer from depression and this situation has just been really hard with friends and family very far away from me.

I usually like to give my all into my meta analysis of a chapter but I really didn’t like chapter 239. The sense of humor that underlies the “midnight shoot out” just well - well. I wasn’t keen on it. I have a pretty dirty sense of humor so it isn’t even the fact that it is a part of male body part humor; just how it was implemented.

So I’m just going to go with this. Usami and our “Jack” convict are men cut from the same cloth who link sexual acts with violence. The only difference between them is that Usami was found and groomed by Tsurumi, thus appearing to be a more contributing member of society (as a member of the military), while “Jack” has been left to his own devices and is a free roaming serial killer. Usami is the correct member of the 27th to do the field work for this convict. What is more interesting is teaming him up with Kikuta. After Usami and Jack’s “shoot out” Usami pursues him on foot while he’s on horseback. Usami’s general response is to try to beat someone via brute force. It isn’t surprising that he just jumps for the man only to get knocked down, he acts on instinct.

Kikuta has a much more tempered response as he first had Usami and him split off to try to pinch him off between the alleys/streets. It gives him a clear shot at Jack. Here he’s using one of his revolvers in his right hand.

Jack is lucky as Kikuta hits his top hat. This pause in action allows Kikuta to spring into action. He sprints towards Jack tossing his revolver so that he can grab onto the convict with his right hand. What I really like about this is how is shows how Kikuta thinks very quickly on his feet as we saw at the hot springs.

He’s able to use his left hand to reach into his coat where he likely has at least another revolver in a holster. It should be game over for the man as he tells him that he��s got him with the revolver to the back of his head.

Unfortunately, Kikuta is defeated by “Jack’s” manly abilities and it is just plain gross and unnecessary. Kikuta is one of my fav current members of the 27th, I just didn’t like this entire scene. As a result he escapes and Kikuta is likely feeling - well feeling used, gross and assaulted.

Usami and Kikuta continue to pursue him and hear a woman scream. Sure enough he managed to kill her and Kikuta looks shocked as they find the body. The fact that Usami looks at Kikuta from the corner of his eyes makes me think that Usami is not surprised by anything our killer does.

In contrast, despite his years of experience, Kikuta is uncomfortable with this type of criminal activity & violence. He’s no stranger to violence but he clearly has a strong moral compass.

The next day, they return to the scene of the crime in daylight. The sketchy and questionable police officer is there with our sad and pathetic reporter. Kikuta muses what the killer is thinking. Due to all the things that have transpired so far, it is clear that Kikuta is really trying to rationalize things. In contrast,’knowing’ his mind, Usami just offers an explanation that makes sense to him since it takes one to know one.

This only further highlights the difference between these two men. It is clear that Tsurumi wants them to keep working together, even if Kikuta is really uncomfortable with Usami.

Usami is eager to visit the other crime scene, Kikuta hangs back and lets Usami go ahead. He uses this time to casually approach Ariko. Everything about Kikuta’s body language, behavior and vibe scream - spy/secret agent. He’s able to address Ariko with a calm demeanor and then when Ariko almost panics he instructs him how to behave.

Kikuta cuts the tension by teasing Ariko, stating that he’d recognize his figure anywhere and to think he’d be difficult to recognize is a bit of an insult to Kikuta’s intelligence.

He’s able to approach Ariko about his role as an unwilling double agent. Since he’s there under direct orders from Tsurumi he knows that for the time to being he should be in the loop as far as Hijikata’s movements. If Ariko is in Sapporo, it is a logical extension that Hijikata is there as well.

The chapter then wraps up with Tsurumi leading most of his men to Sapporo leaving only two to remain near Otaru to look for Asirpa. He reports that Kikuta is the one who sent him the telegram about our convict, Jack. If Tsurumi is reporting the truth to his men, it means that Kikuta only reported on the convict and requested backup but Kikuta may be withholding information about Hijikata being there as well. This chapter leaves it up in the air as it shows Tsurumi looking military dictator-ish while Hijikata stares off into the distance.

What is most important in this chapter is setting up how Kikuta is going to be some sort of player in the hunt for this convict in particular.

Chapter 240 begins to bring the manga plot back to the aspects that I like of it, more intellectual, big picture moves of the different groups as well as a side of good old fashioned spy business.

The chapter title page helps us to establish Ariko’s and Kikuta’s personalities even more. Ariko is playing cat’s cradle with Tanigaki in the trenches while Kikuta literally has Ariko’s back and he watches them.

This shows several things. 1.) Kikuta is similar to Ogata as he’s always watching. Since he was one of the “Russian” kidnappers, we know he has a background in intelligence and he’s a clever guy. We also know that he cares about Ariko as a person, hence comfortable enough to lean up against his back as well as cover that back. 2.) It let’s the reader know that Ariko is similar to Tanigaki. He’s a large, soft, dopey man. He is simple, he’s outwardly friendly and like Tanigaki he has natural outdoorsman/hunting skills but that he’s an okay solider and but isn’t the most intelligent. Neither man is a good liar and they are predictable.

Ariko is 100% out of his element and trying to be a double agent is pretty much a situation ripe for failure. He just can’t do it. In direct contrast, Kikuta looks completely natural and at ease. He’s used to doing things like this and he’s confident with the games of espionage and intelligence.

Ariko is barely able to hold himself together, voice unsteady, sweating, looking like he’s got no out. So Kikuta tells him to team up with him in contrast to Hijikata and Tsurumi.

Of course Ariko is shocked by this statement. Kikuta continues his argument. He frames himself as Ariko’s only option. They survived the war together, they saw that same moon together. The flashback shows, Kikuta reaching out to touch Ariko while he goes to hold his hand.

They’ve survived together against the odds. So Kikuta is willing to ask Ariko to ignore everything else. Forget about his father’s involvement in the gold theft and his murder and the fact that Tsurumi will try to get his cooperation by threatening family. He summarizes it doesn’t matter which man he tries to align himself with, the outcome is same - it is terrible. So then he let’s him know that “central” is going to let things play out in Hokkaido.

This is enough information for Ariko to figure out why Kikuta was so keen to regain Tsurumi’s trust. He’s the spy for central that Tsukishima has been always on the look out for.

The angle of this panel is just great, Ariko is in shock while Kikuta adjusts his bowler hat. And with that, a running joke that originated on a discord server when Kikuta first showed up became the truth.

With Kikuta’s appearance several of us tried to figure out what is role would be and we came up with a nickname for him, “Roger”, which was coined by Merdopseudo. This was due to how he looked like Roger Moore, one of the actors that played James Bond. I 100% agreed with the Roger nickname and as a result, I struggle to write any meta post about Kikuta without referring to him as Roger instead. I personally was leaning toward a more Clark Gable inspired look but Roger was just better.

The chapter then has Jack hanging around a church with no informative text.

The action then shifts to Hijikata’s group which is all in disguise.

The wee babe, Kantarou is a newsboy, selling newspapers. Hijikata is a goldfish vendor. Ushiyama and Toni are buddhist monks, and Kadokura is a Koya-san pilgrim. Ogata is a filial piety puppet performer and Nagakura and Ariko are just random looking civilians. Kirawus remained as himself. Perhaps they thought if he tried to blend in as Japanese it would be obvious?

Our morally bankrupt reporter, is able to elaborate on the details of the Sapporo serial killer - calling him a copycat of Jack the Ripper. The Cliff Notes version of things is that if this is a true Jack the Ripper copycat, the fifth and final murder will happen 40 days after the two murders from the night before. It seems proper that Hijikata is the one to summarize the situation that his group is in.

Interestingly, Kadokura, Kantarou and Kirawus are shown sweating in the background while Ogata is deadpan. Clearly, Ogata is not bothered by the 40 day time limit.

This makes a nice transition to Sugimoto, Shiraishi and Asirpa now in Barato. Shiraishi, being the smart dude that he is, points out an interesting article. Sugimoto assumes it is about “Jack” but instead he notices children have gone missing. Boutarou is able to immediately connect these crimes to another tattooed convict.

Asirpa looks nervous as, well she’s a child and she was teased additional information than what Sugimoto got from meeting him. Boutarou is upfront and immediately is able to identify him for the rest of the group. Asirpa is totally freaked out as the identifies him as the candy peddler.

Sugimoto then has murder eyes and angry screentones as he concludes that he is of course one of the convicts.

This chapter is setting up a clear confrontation between all the different groups. I like how it finally begins to ratchet up the the tension and put pieces in place. Usami showing that he’s terrible at spying and discretion both makes them stand out but also tips Kikuta off that something else is likely afoot on Tsurumi’s side.

The missing children are a trail indication the direction of Ueji Keiji. I like how Shiraishi and Sugimoto are looking at the paper while Boutarou towers over them and looks at the paper.

The chapter ends with our two shaded convicts surrounded by swirling newspapers. Both men are making their actions clear to the public. I would guess are both reading the newspapers as Jack let’s his activities know while Ueji is potentially communicating with him as his own actions are showing his direction, moving towards Sapporo.

The chapter then ends with a dark Ogata joke. He’s really into his filial piety act and has to be yelled at firmly by another member of the group.

Overall impressions on 240 and some brief ponderings.

1.) I love Roger, er Kikuta so much. His character has a level of class and sophistication that many characters lack. He is also a ‘self’ made man who rose through the ranks to be a valuable member of military intelligence. It is clear now why Tsurumi would have kept his distance from him and why he was so insistent on getting back into Tsurumi’s inner circle. It is clear that Kikuta is not a “Tsurumisexual”. He is also the type of man who Tsukishima was suspicious of going back to his showdown with Ogata. Tsukishima is livid that Ogata sniped Maeyama and told him that he’s the pet cat of “central” he’s waiting to sell out the 27th to gain position in the military establishment.

Therefore, our three “Russian” kidnappers are all originally enlisted men who likely gained a lot of skills working for a fallen elite like Tsurumi. Tsukishima stresses loyalty to comrades. Ogata has never shown much loyalty to those around him, but it is obvious that Kikuta has loyalty to Ariko. He had to put on an act to look like Ariko had betrayed him and Tsurumi.

I have begun to wonder if Ogata is the red herring deflecting the focus from Kikuta. Ogata doesn’t believe in the words of Tsurumi that are used to stir loyalty and dedication to a cause. Is this because Ogata believe it is complete bullshit or that he’s aware that Tsurumi uses these types of concepts to control most people?

What I want to know now is if Ogata is working with or in parallel to Kikuta. I still don’t see Ogata as a spy for central. It goes against by gut reading on Ogata. I could see Ogata and Kikuta being aware of each other and their objectives where Ogata may have even tried to make it look like he’s the spy to deflect attention from Kikuta. Again, Ogata’s goal from this entire situation is still completely unknown. Was Kikuta linked to the rebel group - RIP bear death trio. I still haven’t forgotten you.

But based on Tsukishima thinks of Ogata as a putative spy, it fits Kikuta’s personality better. Kikuta still has loyalty and connection to others from the 27th, e.g. Ariko. His discomfort working with Usami on Jack’s trail shows that Kikuta has a stronger moral compass and thinks about what actions are justifiable and which are more ‘evil’ or morally questionable.

2.) Ogata needs a therapist. Of all of the “disguises” he could choose, Ogata picks the filial piety puppet show. >_< He put on makeup to look like his own father, and a son puppet that has a striking resemblance to his half brother Yuusaku. Therefore, the bastard child is performing an act where his devoted brother does everything he’s expected to do as a model son for their asshole father. The fact that his line is “What a dutiful son. Please give him the reward that he deserves.” can be read on several levels. Basic text reading - Yuusaku was a good son, and he truly deserved the reward for being a good son. He kept his virginity and purity, was un-corruptable by Ogata and therefore, he had no choice but to snipe him. Subtext reading - due to Ogata’s clear “daddy” issues, he is actually the dutiful son and he wants the reward that he deserves. Ogata entered the military and performed well both in intelligence for Tsurumi, on the battlefield as a sniper and did everything that was asked of him before he liberated himself from Tsurumi. In that regard, Ogata was an excellent solider if not better one that Yuusaku with hands on/real world experience long before Yuusaku was a flag bearer. I think this situation should both be read on the text and subtext level. ‘Cause it is Ogata dammit and he’s not some obvious character.

Ogata is a character who wants and desires nothing more than love and acceptance. Of course being the cynical intellectual that he is, he would pick something like this. . . . it just makes you want to cringe and go “Ogata . . .”

The fact that they almost left Ogata behind indicates to me that he’s acting out his own plan for - something. Our man of mystery - Ogata.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #warrant officer kikuta #Usami Tokishige #tsurumi tokushirou #hijikata toshizo #nagakura shinpachi #ushiyama tatsuma #kirawus #kantarou #kadokura #ogata hyakunosuke #sugimoto saichi #Shiraishi Yoshitake #ASIRPA #boutarou the pirate #hanazawakoujiro #hanazawayuusaku #ariko rikimatsu

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