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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years ago

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Things We Didn’t Tell You 5

Harry Potter AU

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader.

Link to Chapter 4

Rating: M

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James looked up when Sirius stormed down the stairs looking ready to burn the world down. He quickly jumped up to go into best-friend mode.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. He could use a lot of drinks! If he wouldn’t die from alcohol poisoning, downing an entire bottle of whiskey didn’t sound half bad.

“You have no idea!”

James reached over and tossed him a shirt.

“Let’s go out. May want to put this on though. Y/n will kill me if you get sick.”

30 minutes later,

James sat watching Sirius down shot after shot of whiskey while chain-smoking. He wasn’t going to ask Sirius what happened with his parents but this behavior wasn’t normal.

“When did you start smoking again?”

Sirius downed another shot.

“Tonight.”

James sighed at Sirius one-worded answers. He had a feeling that he was going to have to pry a lot more.

“I wasn’t going to ask but what happened with your parents? I’m concerned.”

“You should be.”

Sirius said, coldly. He took a breath before looking at James.

“They called Y/n a whore. Get this shit...they said that I could join the family again but I had to abandon Y/n and take Demelza away from her. I can’t leave Y/n and I sure as hell wouldn’t take our baby from her. Demelza and I need her too much.”

James' expression darkened. Has he really heard his best friend correctly? His dislike for the Black family increased more than he thought possible. Looking at Sirius’ depressed expression made James want to go and personally fight Orion and Walburga.

“What did you tell them?”

Sirius put out the cigarette that he was holding. His rage was also hyper focused on Regulus. His coward of a little brother didn't even try to say anything. The little twat just sat silently the whole time like a worthless coward.

“After I sent Y/n outside with the baby I told them they could kiss my ass and some other curse words.”

James was pleased by Sirius’ response. That was Sirius had stood up to his parents yet again.

“Sirius, you did the right thing. I think you know that. Those quack jobs don’t deserve you in their life and you sure as hell don’t need them. As you said, they are like nuclear waste, Demi doesn’t need that.”

Sirius’ eyes rolled back up.

“I don’t want to be like them. I look at Demelza and am petrified that I am going to turn into my father.”

“You’re not! Mate, I have seen you with that baby and you are nothing like your father. Where is this coming from?”

James asked.

“It's always in the back of my mind.”

James was quiet for a moment before perking up.

“Answer me this. Was your father there when you or Regulus was born?”

“No. He had better things to do.”

James nodded, looking thoughtful.

“And how did you handle Demelza’s birth?”

Sirius’ eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about Demelza’s birth in a while.

“It was rough for me. Y/n handled it like the goddess she is. I was scared to death of that baby. For a good two hours anytime she made a peep I almost screamed like a girl. I finally held her for a while...I’ve never loved someone like her.”

James started laughing hard.

“You’re a great dad.”

2 hours later…

Sirius was surprised to see you sitting at the table when he walked back in with James. He frowned at how Lily and yourself looked grim.

“Ladies, what’s going on?”

You were the one that spoke first.

“Marlene’s dead.”

James’ mouth dropped.

“What?”

You stood and closed the distance between Sirius and yourself. The expression on Sirius’ face made your heart hurt.

“Her whole family is dead. We just got word about an hour ago.”

James put a hand over his mouth as you tried to snuggle your face against Sirius’ chest.

“Are you sure?”

Sirius managed to ask. You nodded.

“Dumbledore just told us.”

“Our numbers just keep going down and down.”

Lily replied, weakly. She hadn’t been able to speak for a few moments. The realization that your numbers were rapidly decreasing in great numbers was numbing. James, meanwhile, put down the drink that he had poured.

“Well, that just does it. Sirius, Y/n I think that the two of you need to stay here for a while longer. We can all keep each other safe.”

Sirius' grey eyes rolled up.

“We’re losing enough friends.”

He turned and walked from the room without another word. Sirius couldn’t stand being in the room any longer. He knew that he would feel guilty for leaving you this way but he needed to be alone.

The following month and a half were one of the worst that everyone had in a very long time. Sirius and yourself seemed to be having the worst of anyone. Since Marlene’s death, you watched as Sirius drifted further and further from you. He started going off on more missions leaving Demelza and yourself for longer periods of time. You tried to say it was due to everything that had happened with his parents than Marlene, however, the insecure side of you knew that he was mourning his ex-lover.

When Sirius was home, he wasn’t really “home.” He seemed to always have his eye on getting out the door. It didn’t matter how much you begged him to stay with you the answer was always no. The romance seemed to vanish as quickly as it had begun. Sex wasn’t happening. When it did, Sirius was so quick to get himself off then pull away from you.

“Is he gone again?”

You looked up from the book that you were reading to see Regulus in the doorway. The last time that you had seen him was the night of that ill-fated dinner.

“Yeah. He doesn’t spend much time anymore.”

“He’s being an idiot.”

Regulus said as he joined you on the couch. Your green eyes rolled up to him.

“No, he isn’t. Sirius is going through a lot. Between whatever happened with your charming parents and Marlene dying…”

Regulus rolled his eyes. Why were you so worried about Sirius and Marlene? Regulus knew the answer. You thought that Sirius was still in love with the now-dead witch and Regulus agreed with you. He couldn’t help wondering how many women one man needed.

“Why are you always comparing yourself with Marlene? She’s a crystal and you are a diamond.”

“Reggie…”

Regulus scooted closer.

“You haven’t called me that in years. I miss this...us...being friends.”

When Regulus pulled you into a kiss you didn’t know who to react. You sat awkwardly as Regulus kissed you hungrily. His tongue was on your lips rubbing gently. Regulus moaned into the kiss as he was finally getting what he wanted (for once). He let it slide that you were sitting totally motionless and not moving to kiss him back.

After a few moments, you finally snapped back into reality and was able to push him away. You jumped up and held your hands out.

“Whoa! What are you doing? What are you thinking?!”

Regulus leaned back before standing up with a smirk.

“Just wanted to try something. Bye, love.”

You shivered at how he sounded like Sirius when he said love. He gave you a shit-eating grin before leaving the room without another word.

The nightmare…

You wanted to scream. The nightmare you frequently had was coming true. Sirius was out there putting his life in danger and Regulus was waiting to take his place once Sirius was dead. You, unfortunately, were in the horrible place of watching your life fall apart!

3 days later…

It was 11:00 pm when Sirius arrived home. He held a few red roses in his left hand. Sirius was feeling beyond guilty. He knew that he had been a shit excuse for a husband and father lately. As much as he wanted to tell you everything that was bothering him; he couldn’t. Talking about his feelings had never been a strong point and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.

Sirius knew that his distance had begun to take its toll on you. The night before last when he spoke to you, you sounded distant. Your voice was almost robotic as Sirius tried to question you on how you and the baby were.

In his head, Sirius knew exactly what he wanted to say,

“Y/n, there is nothing wrong with you and me. I am so happy with you. You make me happy. I have this stupid grin on my face whenever I am within 8 feet of you. It's just my parents...they crushed me again. I had hopes that maybe they changed. The cold things they said about you...I can never forgive. As far as Marlene, I’m sad that she died. She didn’t deserve to go like that”

“Are those roses for me?”

Sirius’ head snapped up to see James sitting on the couch holding a sleeping Harry.

“Sure, mate, didn’t know that you liked flowers. I’ve come to woo you off of your feet.”

James grinned, clearly pleased to see that his best friend’s sense of humor seemed to be returning. He was as worried as you were about Sirius.

“Lily might be a touch offended but I won’t mind. Uh just so you know, Y/n is gone.”

Sirius dropped the roses as eyes widened. Had he heard James right? What kind of “gone” was his friend talking about. Had you gone out with Lily or did you leave his ass?

“James...where is she?”

James gently laid Harry down before standing up.

“Y/n and Remus’ mother died. She and Remus left the day before yesterday to go help their father.”

“An..nd Demelza?”

Sirius choked out. He knew the crazy in his mind was going into overdrive and there was no stopping it. What if he had lost the two of you? There was no way that Sirius would be able to go forward without his wife and child.

James’ tone softened.

“With her mother. Sirius, she didn’t leave you. We can go catch up with them tomorrow. I told Y/n that I would let you know. Now go get some rest and tomorrow you can go fix everything.”

_____

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#Harry Potter #Harry Potter AU #Sirius Black #Sirius Black x Reader #Remus Lupin #James Potter #lily evans potter #James x Lily #Reader x Regulus #Regulus Black #walburga black #orion black #marlene mckinnon #previous Marlene x Sirius #harry potter fan fiction #Ben Barnes as Sirius Black #timothee chalamet as regulus black #Things We Didn't Tell You #TWDTY Update

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dustedmagazine · 8 years ago

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Five Records That Matter

A few weeks ago, when we decided to try to find a few new writers, we asked applicants to list five records that mattered to them. That was all the instruction we gave, purposely open ended. Not the best records. Not the most important records. Just the ones that mattered to the person making the list. It was mostly to find out whether people liked drone or hardcore, DIY garage or free-jazz, you know, to get a handle on new writers, where they were coming from and what they listened to. There was no right or wrong answer (well, okay, maybe there were some wrong answers but nobody sent us any).

We realized, though, that it’s sort of impossible — and also kind of fun — to pick just five records that matter. We know this now, because most of us went through the exercise ourselves. We defined “matter” in different ways, some of us opting for personal relevance, others emphasizing objective quality, some looking back over their whole listening lives and others confining the search to specific time periods. And then, because it was so much fun, we decided to share the results with you. Contributors include Jason Bivins, Joseph Burnett, Justin Cober-Lake, Ben Donnelly, Mason Jones, Jennifer Kelly, Brett Marion, Ian Mathers, Eric McDowell, Bill Meyer, Lucas Schleicher and Derek Taylor. And by the way, you may notice a couple of unfamiliar names in there, because it turned out that asking for five records that matter is a pretty good way of finding new Dusted writers.

Jason Bivins

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Bad Brains — Rock for Light

It’s genuinely difficult for me to pick just one album from the vast worlds of “hardcore” and/or “metal” (not that I need just one, but the albums below are kinda too crucial, so that’s my logic today). And I could easily see myself going for, say, Sister or Locust Abortion Technician or something (maybe even something really goth-y from my very early adolescence). But I’m from D.C. and this is probably, soup to nuts, the album that still captures my attention in this idiom. The Brains were obviously fierce and fast, and H.R. was just bonkers live, but to me it was their astonishing instrumental technique and facility that made these tunes so righteous (although it’s got to be the LP mix, not that CD mix with too much reverb and Dr. Know’s solos buried away).

King Crimson — Red

In many ways the perfect balance of smart, proggy music with serious heaviness. Stripped down power trio Crimson, minimalist by their standards, with my first hearing of several key English improvisers to boot. Not a massive fan of Wetton’s vocals usually (RIP) but they really work here. Twisty, turny rhythms. Banging riffs. And mind-scrambling repetition, especially on the concluding, very emotional “Starless” (which is responsible for one of the peak aesthetic experiences of my life, as I heard it for the first time when I was reading the final pages of Moby-Dick for the first time — intense!).

Miles Davis — Live Evil

When I first started getting into jazz music, very little about the Miles of Kind of Blue (still colossally overrated) or Birth of the Cool moved me that much. But this freaked-out, expansive epic — which I heard passed around on third-generation tapes, long before the Columbia U.S. reissues — seemed like a document from some secret electric cult captured at the moment of full ecstatic transport. What gets me going still is the kinetic propulsion of DeJohnette here, that loose kick drum style perfectly goosing things along. Deep funk, odd percussion, moments of witchy noise, and John McLaughlin in supreme interstellar overdrive. Holy fucking grail.

John Coltrane — Live at the Village Vanguard

In my freshman year of college I acquired a cassette containing the original release plus the two live tracks from “Impressions,” though of course I also love the 4-disc edition that Impulse put out in the 1990s. As much as I loved almost all the records Coltrane recorded during this period, there was something the extended, dark intensity of these performances — and Dolphy was so key to this, naturally — that seemed otherworldly and deeply organic at the same time. Yes, there was the absolutely riveting playing, but the incessant throb of “India,” the gallop of “Chasin’ the Trane,” the incredible emotionality of “Spiritual” — this was one of those records that converted me not just to a Coltrane fanatic but a full-on jazz nerd.

AMM — Laminal

The deep dive into slabs of marvelous pure sound. Before I got this essential 3-disc portrait of AMM live during different periods, I had The Nameless Uncarved Block and maybe one other disc, which I dug. I was, in particular, transfixed by the range of textural contrasts that were central to AMM in its many iterations. But the 1982 concert at the Great Hall at Goldsmith’s College was where — right as Keith Rowe dialed up “Bang a Gong Get It On” atop his buzz saw guitar — the aesthetic wizardry clicked in for me.

Joseph Burnett

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Neil Young — On the Beach

Tonight's the Night (and Lou Reed's Berlin) introduced me to the idea of a mainstream artist "heading for the ditch" but I didn't properly "get it" until I heard On the Beach with its songs of death, murder and depression. I still can't decide which Young album is my favorite, but my love affair with the dark side of popular music started here.

Fairport Convention — Liege and Lief

I never had much interest in the culture of my home country until I tuned in to this. There are many UK folk albums that come close in their own way, but nothing quite reaches Liege and Lief.

Albert Ayler — Spiritual Unity

Miles introduced me to jazz, 'Trane made me love it, Ayler made me realize how far ahead of its time it can be.

Throbbing Gristle — The Second Annual Report

My introduction to noise, really, and the concept of non-musical elements being used in music.

Tony Conrad and Faust — Outside the Dream Syndicate

Through which I fell in love with both minimalism and (along with the first Neu! and Cluster albums) krautrock. Conrad's passing last year left me more bereft than even Bowie's.

Frustratingly, there's no room for electronic music (of a different sort to TG) or free improv here. Man, this was tough.

Justin Cober-Lake

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The Who — Quadrophenia

Without a doubt the singularly most important record in my life. I still consider it the best record by my favorite band, and it's the one that holds that save/change/influence your life slot for me.

Miles Davis — Kind of Blue

I picked this up in college when I decided I should try out some jazz and this seems to be at the top of every list and, huh, jazz was interesting. I'm sure something else could have flipped the switch for me, but something else didn't. More specifically, it launched my love of Coltrane. "So What" is the quintessence of cool.

Bon Jovi — Slippery When Wet

My first favorite album. It went well with the fast skate at the Roll-Arena and it helped form my idea that rock goes best in stadiums, ideally with a lead singer flying out over the crowd. It would take at least until grunge hit for me to re-think that idea, and I'm not sure I have.

Bob Dylan — Blood on the Tracks

This one was good at first, convincing me that my dad was right on this Dylan guy. At the very least, I liked the story of "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts." After a few years, it became significant in its catharsis and its artistry.

Wilco — Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

My other four choices are mainly about me alone with my cassettes. This one's about the entanglement of music and relationships. YHF blew me away on first listen to my friend's copy, but the whole experience is closely connected to meeting, dating, and marrying my wife. The record fit (and developed) my tastes; the sound still resonates.

Ben Donnelly

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Various Artists — Music of the Ozarks A National Geographic mail order compilation of field recordings that appeared in our house when I was in elementary school. My mom lived in Arkansas when *she* was in elementary school, and it brought back a lot of memories for her. While there's great fiddle and guitar melodies that gallop up and down traditional scales, there's also mouth-bow and dulcimer drones that hypnotize. The storytelling can be haunting but the wordplay is fey— "the prettiest girl I ever did see was down in the Arkansas"

The Cars — S/T Their still-newish debut album showed up in 8-track form when my cousin moved in with us. He had a single-speaker 8-track player that looked like a TNT detonator, and the flow of this record blew me up. I knew the singles from the radio, but hearing the non-stop deadpan hooks set me up with an aversion to singers who try too hard. The resonances of distorto guitar over synth arpeggios are a source of permanent affection for me, whether they show up in the Fall, an Arthur Baker remix, or some random Dirtnap punk band. I immediately latched on to the least-known cut, "I'm in Touch with Your World", which is retrospect is pretty jagged stuff for a power pop album. They hardened American ears for the late-breaking influence of the Velvets. Moody Blues — In Search of the Lost Chord Anyone can enjoy the well-crafted songs of Magical Mystery Tour, Sell Out or Their Satanic Majesties Request, but how about when the acid hits third rate beat bands? There's wonderfully wussy twee in places (I've seen polar bears and seals, I've seen giant Antarctic eels, I've still not found what I'm looking for) but "Legend of Mind" balances harmonies with some really heavy riffing. "Ride My See-Saw" seems like the lynchpin freakbeat for Thee Oh Sees and their kind. This record has some forgettable and laughable material, but the Moody's dedication to total soft-headedness set me on the path to deep psych. Donna Summer — Walk Away I think mom bought this for exercising as much as dancing, and boy is it a workout. Not her greatest hits, but so many of the Summer/Moroder peaks are here. They set up our modern day pop cocktail of American r'n'b with European dance production. "I Feel Love" remains the music of the future, just as Eno predicted, but the collection closes with "Our Love", one of the greatest feats of drum machine programming ever. After I went all underground rock, I still found it immensely satisfying when the Celibate Rifles closed their set with a take on "Hot Stuff" that wasn't too jokey. Turn of the century, when disco became hip again, all my love for the stuff came gushing out. Dumb of me to hold back. Jethro Tull — Stand Up This only album here I shelled out my lawn-mowing cash to procure, the rest just drifted into the house. I recently gave Stand Up the first thorough spin in years, and its fine set of songs, as close as they got to the more socially acceptable Fairport/Pentangle school of folk rock. The balalaika-lead "Fat Man" may have been my introduction to Balkan textures. "Back to the Family" is dourly amusing. "Reasons for Waiting" quite cleverly fuses flute and organ for the kind of rave up you'd expect from guitar and bass, and turns it into maypole dance. You could imagine this iteration of the band going full Wicker Man, like Comus, had their lineup not quickly solidified around Aqualung riffs and multi-part suites.

Mason Jones

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The five records prompt made me think about albums that were part of my formative listening years, which is certainly very different from the albums that are currently important. Going with the early formative albums I'm coming up with:

Coil—Horse Rotorvator

Back in the 1980s I had started discovering early industrial music and was buying albums and magazines at Schoolkids in Ann Arbor. I had heard of Coil but hadn't found anything yet, when I discovered a used promo cassette of this album in Wazoo, and it completely upended my world. It remains a strong favorite to this day.

Bauhaus — In the Flat Field

When I was early in my guitar-playing, the sonic variation from Daniel Ash was really important, and despite the passage of time I can still listen to Bauhaus.

Jimi Hendrix Experience—Axis: Bold as Love

Again from a guitar player standpoint, this album has everything.

Foetus — Nail

Alongside the Coil album, this one remains essential to me for its cohesion and focus, and dark humor mixed with brilliant sounds.

Fushitsusha — PSFD 15/16

Doesn't really have a name, but the second volume of Fushitsusha's live 2CD offerings was a big push toward forming SubArachnoid Space back in the day, and Haino's guitar work is unimpeachable. It also later led to my organizing SF shows for the band and releasing a Fushitsusha album on Charnel Music.

It's very hard not to include Skullflower, Big Black, Crash Worship, Pink Floyd, and ELO (!) albums in this list...

Jennifer Kelly

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The Stones -- Sticky Fingers (or Exile or, if I'm honest, Hot Rocks, of which I have worn out at least three cassette copies)

As a relatively straight-laced young lady in pre-internet Indiana, my choices were limited and few of the things that I liked as a teenager are relevant anymore. But Stones (up to maybe Tattoo You) have held up, still dark, still sexual, still exuding a kind of threat and coolness that was out of reach for me then and now, but still holds some appeal. I’m going with Sticky Fingers because it has both “Bitch” and “Moonlight Mile,” two of the respectively nastiest and the most beautiful songs in the Stones catalogue.

The Who -- The Who Sell Out

I don’t want to get into a fight with Justin, but to me this is peak Who, trippy and transcendent (I could listen to “I Can See for Miles” all day), goofily tongue-in-cheek (“Heinz Baked Beans”) and still so very far away from slipping into the rock band cliché of later years.

The Clash -- London Calling

As I mentioned above, I grew up with radio in Indiana, the good stuff, such as it was, was mostly R&B, and so I got to college in 1981 and was OUTRAGED to find out that punk rock had happened without me. I’ve probably listened to London Calling more than any other record in my life. I actually had to take this off my iTunes a few years ago because I just could not listen to it again, but no question that it was formative.

Jay Reatard -- Blood Visions

We saw him in Northampton a couple of months before he passed, and god-damn, talk about the real deal. Punk rock is never dead, but it sure is always dying.

Sleater-Kinney -- Dig Me Out

After my son Sean was born, I spent about a year listening to nothing but opera, specifically Tannhauser, specifically the overture to the first act...and it was this record more than anything -- well, okay, Elliott Smith and Pavement and Neutral Milk Hotel played a role too -- that brought me back. But Sleater-Kinney was special because they rocked so hard and in such a very female kind of way, with their trembly vibrato voices and looping collaborative guitars and bang-out-loud anger and heedless engulfing joy. “Words and Guitar,” it’s all you really need.

Brett Marion

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The Jesus & Mary Chain — Psychocandy (Blanco y Negro, 1985)

Advancing rock music’s mission of moral decay at light speed through the simultaneous paying homage to and annihilation of doo-wop melodies and early pop-rock and blues forms through ridiculous amounts of industrial buzz and clatter.

Brian Eno - Thursday Afternoon (EG, 1985)

Off-putting, in equal measure, by its rather domestic title and daunting hour-long playing length, a peek inside is a sensory tank full of narcotic luxury—its every-so-often recurring Doppler-like bass swells effectively bending all notions of time and space. Ambient plus plus.

Felt — Poem of the River (Creation, 1987)

Growing up in the 1980’s suburban American Midwest, you considered yourself lucky if you walked into a shop and found one row of imports relegated to the end of the Pop/Rock section, overpriced and gathering dust. After weeks, perhaps months, I finally found the nerve—and cash—to blindly purchase this gorgeous-looking mini LP (the perfect format, btw). Produced by Mayo Thompson, Poem of the River is a dazzling mix of Lawrence’s self-referential poetic satire, Neil Scott and Tony Willé’s exquisite Verlaine/Lloyd-esque guitar interplay and Martin Duffy’s oddly prominent ballpark organ contributions.

Spacemen 3 — The Perfect Prescription (Glass, 1987)

Light-years beyond the monotonic two-riff (one-riff?) Stooges’-smothered debut, The Perfect Prescription mainlines the blues, gospel and drug-rock forms with a soul-searching, seldom formulated lyrical honesty, “Oh, listen sweet lord forgive me my sin/ ‘cause I can’t stand this life without all of these things/ Know I’ve done wrong ‘cause I’ve heaven on Earth/ Know I done wrong but I coulda done me worse.” Cue goose bumps.

Royal Trux — Accelerator (Drag City, 1998)

From the opening blat of “I’m Ready” to the closing guitar solo sunset fade of “Stevie,” Accelerator is a hedonistic rock’n’roll juggernaut that works whatever your drug of choice.

Ian Mathers

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Massive Attack — Mezzanine

I might slightly prefer Blue Lines, but in what might be a running theme here, growing up in a small town with no record store in pre-Napster/pre-YouTube days, I was often lucky to get my hands on even one album from a band the internet could now let me read about if not actually hear. I thought I knew electronic music at the time, but really I knew Aphex/Squarepusher style pranksterism and the cheesy end of trance and not much in between (or further afield). I don't think I'd heard anything at the time as beautifully produced or relentlessly, darkly, menacing; from the first time the scything, processed drum loop gnashes against the subterranean bass pulses on "Angel" I was absolutely entranced, and that's before they threw a goddamn guitar solo in there. I know other bands who've made as many records I adore as Massive Attack have, but not many where all of those albums could be the work of entirely distinct outfits. Still, this is the one that got its hooks into me first, and arguably the first (spiritually) Goth album I ever loved.

Prolapse — The Italian Flag

In said small town, one of the few ways to actually hear the kind of thing I was getting into (thanks to my dad's record collection and an obsession with Radiohead's OK Computer that means I would have picked it here except I haven't had anything interesting to say about that album other than it got me reading UK music magazines online in years) was watching the Wedge late at night on MuchMusic. MTV existed and we knew about it, but nobody I knew had access to it in Canada. One night they definitely (and wonderfully) played the video for "Killing the Bland", a song that I was instantly obsessed with. As a teenager devoted to finding the fastest, loudest, most aggressive guitar music I could but who somehow never got into hardcore punk or speed metal the fleet, clattering assault of Prolapse was catnip, I loved "Scottish" Mick Derrick and Linda Steelyard's dueling accents, and the video was hilarious. I wouldn't be another seven or eight years or so before I'd know or hear anything more of Prolapse, a band it's still risky to google, thanks to Will Swygart's fine assessment at Stylus where I was writing at the time. I've since tracked down physical copies of everything the band's put out that I can, and I'm still bitter that I couldn't see them open for Mogwai a while back, probably my only chance to hear one of my favourite bands live. At least I still have The Italian Flag, a record where basically nothing else sounds like "Killing the Bland" (also there) but everything does sound like the way indie rock maybe should have gone in 1997: dense, abrasive, scabrous, almost magnetically pessimistic, and very funny.

Low — Secret Name

If you ever doubt the power of people writing about music, let me tell you about Low (the source, incidentally, for the largest tattoo I have). A band I don't think I'd heard about when I ran into this when I was in first year university and reading through all of glenn mcdonald's (yes, he prefers lower case) ten-year writing project The War Against Silence. These days glenn is more well known for doing a lot of the number crunching for the big Village Voice music critic annual poll, but so much of his writing is so important to me in so many ways. And his description of this band that he was so enthralled by hit me so hard that the next time I had some disposable income I walked into my local record store and bought the Low album they had in stock, sound unheard. That record was, err, Things We Lost in the Fire. An amazing album, but Secret Name is here instead because when you've listened to all of a band's work as much as I have with Low's, that first impression sometimes gets outweighed. If pushed I might even pick another LP as my 'favorite', but there's something beautiful and pure and terrifying in the depths of Secret Name, something I can't escape, something that comes closest to giving me what I read in glenn's writing. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they've continued to grow and change, and not just because I love Ones and Sixes so much; neither the world nor this band need Secret Name II or the time and effort that could be wasted trying to make it. But more than anything else, this record is probably the reason I have the Chairkickers' Union seal inked on my back.

Spacemen 3 — Performance: Live at the Melkweg 6/2/88

I got really into Spiritualized then when one of the few albums I could find to listen to was their two disc live Royal Albert Hall October 10 1997 I decided that was by far the best thing they'd ever done, then on a school trip knowing they were some kind of proto-Spiritualized I bought a Spacemen 3 album. I still love Spiritualized, but in some ways Spacemen 3 were more relevant to me as a young adult and when I bought this dodgy-looking live album essentially on a whim, it nearly ruined me for anything else Jason Pierce has touched. Specifically the dodgiest version of the album, with the naff cover art and the typos in the track listing and three extra tracks including a monumental, maddening, ear-splitting version of "Suicide" that ended with a loop of crowd noise, as if to let the listener recover. This is, as far as I'm concerned, the only version of the album, and one of the best rock records of all time. When my wife and I were first dating and she still lived down in Florida and I saw that version in the store again I bought that copy and brought it to her. As much as The Perfect Prescription is an amazing album, after I heard Performance I almost couldn't stand to listen to it for a number of years. Pretty much everyone else I know who has listened to Performance thinks it's, you know, okay.

Mogwai — Come On Die Young

The thing about having to buy records without hearing even a single song on them first is that sometimes you're disappointed. But the thing about not having many other records to listen to is that you sometimes wind up giving those disappointing records another chance, or a third, fourth, fifth... all I'd heard about Mogwai was how crack-the-sky huge they were, and here I was with an almost obtuse feeling album, one that started with a ballad and made you wait for the big explosion until track nine. Part of my understanding and appreciation for Come On Die Young now is simply a matter of historical context I couldn't have had then, namely that this (and the EP+6 compilation released the next year) represented some kind of small apotheosis for Mogwai as a nocturnal, abstract, guitar-based band. From 2001's Rock Action on, they'd more fully integrate Barry Burns and turn into a slightly different if still incredible band. But there's a weight and a solemnity to Come on Die Young that's very different from everything they'd do after. Also "Ex-Cowboy" is the great overlooked epic in their discography.

Eric McDowell

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Slap Happy — Casablanca Moon (1974)

Just when you think you've heard it all... A reminder of how much great music from the classic rock era is out there waiting to be loved. Dagmar Krause's singing is startlingly good, as are the lyrics ("Out on the street, sobbing with lust / I hoped for a banquet, she denied me a crust"!). Also look for the earlier version recorded with Faust, Acnalbasac Noom.

Arthur Blythe — Illusions (1980)

Incredible group including James Blood Ulmer on guitar, Abdul Wadud on cello, and Bob Stewart on tuba (among others). I want to buy this album all over again whenever I see it and have tried (in vain) to get strangers at record stores to take it home. Luckily this was recently reissued in a set with some other Blythe albums, including the killer Lenox Avenue Breakdown.

Pauline Oliveros — Accordion & Voice (1982)

My introduction to her work and still my favorite.

Oren Ambarchi — Hubris (2016)

After a peek into Ambarchi's discography, I couldn't get enough of him— especially his albums on Editions Mego. This one came out on my birthday.

Anna Meredith — Varmints (2016)

For some reason I've come back to this more than anything else these first months of 2017... Whatever works!

Bill Meyer

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Brian Eno — Another Green World

I checked this out of a library when I was still a high school prog dabbler and classic rock radio/NPR listener in Michigan in the late 1970s. While I had heard a little Eno before, I had had never heard anything like this and it opened me up to the intersection of sonic novelty, pith, creative playing, wit, and song-craft divorced from literal meaning.

Velvet Underground — Live 1969

Economy, open-endedness, the most brilliantly rudimentary drumming in rock and roll, and some marvelous songs performed with a casual confidence that Lou Reed would rarely evidence in his subsequent solo career.

Art Ensemble of Chicago — Nice Guys

Not necessarily their best, but my first AEC record, and also one of my first brushes with free jazz, Afrocentric theater, and even modal jazz.

Alastair Galbraith — Morse

The feeling you have before remorse. Naked emotion, songs boiled to barest essentials, marvelous sounds all forged in drafty rooms in one of the world's southernmost cities.

John Fahey— Return of the Repressed

Again, not my first encounter with Fahey. But the sheer preponderance of blues-derived picking, dissonance that resonates with corners of the soul untouched by the sun, rhythms driven by a thumb that just would not stop, and great, great tunes set off an obsession with the man and with the myriad manifestations of American Primitive Guitar that remain strong over two decades on.

Lucas Schleicher

I'll play with the format a bit. Here are five albums that matter to me that were either released in the last five years or that I heard for the first time in the last five years. I'm counting as far back as 2011 since 2017 is still new, so fuck it.

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Michael Pisaro / Taku Sugimoto — 2 Seconds / B Minor / Wave (Erstwhile, 2010) This came out almost 7 years ago now, but I didn't hear it until 2011. After reading Bill's reviews of Close Constellations and Asleep, Street, Pipes, Tones, I started listening to a lot of Pisaro's music and reading a lot of his essays and I fell in love quickly. This was the first thing I got my hands on and I still think it's one of the more amazing records he's put together. The first two pieces, "2 Seconds" and "B Minor," are especially beautiful and far easier to approach than you might think. The premise guiding the performances are similarly straightforward, but they produce some amazingly synchronous improvisations. If Pisaro or Wandelweiser interest you at all, I think this is as good a place to begin as any.

The 25-Year Retrospective Concert of The Music of John Cage (Wergo, 1994, originally released in 1958 or 1959) I knew a tiny bit about John Cage before 2011, but most of it was so superficial as to be useless. After hearing the rendition of "Sonatas and Interludes" on here (by Maro Ajemian), I realized just how little of Cage I actually knew (never mind how little I understood). His music wasn't just controversial (the silent piece!) or "ahead of its time" (Variations II), it could be beautiful and approachable and elegant. After listening to this collection for months on end, I went and bought Silence, and reading that was basically life-changing. Cage opened my head and ears to all kinds of art and music that I'd never given much attention before, so this is a significant, best-ever record for me that came well after my teens/early 20s.

Eliane Radigue — Trilogie De La Mort (Experimental Intermedia Foundation, 1998, composed b/w '85 and '93) Radigue is responsible for some of the most unusual and psychedelic listening I've ever been a part of, and that's without drugs. Some friends at work knew I liked drone-y ambient music and were shocked that I didn't know hers. The Trilogie was on my stereo at home for months in 2012. I listened closely, I let it play quietly in the background, I fell asleep to it, I dreamed lucid dreams to it, and I'm almost certain I hallucinated to it in the middle of the night one week when my wife was back home in NY and I had the chance to play it overnight on repeat. I had a full conversation with her in my kitchen and awoke the next day to find that I had left food out on the table that wasn't there when I went to bed. I chalked it up to sleepwalking, but it took me a little while to figure out Laura wasn't back from NY early. Besides being a lot of fun to listen to, Radigue's approach to sound and the way she handles time blows my mind. I think of her a lot and am always impressed by how she can make very little sound like so much.

United Bible Studies ‎— The Ale's What Cures Ye: Traditional Songs From The British Isles. Vol. 1 (MIE Music, 2015) this is just a brilliant record with wonderful songs interpreted in exciting ways by an excellent band. I have a weakness for British folk music and hearing this band in this mode was very exciting in 2015. I still listen to it almost every month and find new things to like about it. After hearing this for the first time, I went back down a deep rabbit hole that I had once managed to climb out of: Shirley Collins, Albion Country Band, Fairport Convention, Fotheringay, etc. etc. I guess getting away from this stuff is impossible. It's always lurking there in the back of my brain and I always turn it up when it comes on.

Hala Strana — Fielding (Jewelled Antler, 2003, reissued 2005, now available on Worstward Bandcamp) I knew Steven R. Smith from as far back as Tableland, but somehow I missed this Hala Strana 2CD from 2003, and in fact knew almost nothing about his Hala Strana records until a couple of years ago. I absolutely love Smith's work; he's a brilliant multi-instrumentalist, he writes excellent songs, and he works so well in various genres that it'd be easy to miss that the Ulaan releases are by the same guy responsible for the Hala Strana releases. Fielding is full of the music of Eastern Europe, either in the form of covers of traditional songs or as original pieces written with Hungary, Romania, Ukraine, and others in mind. Smith plays virtually everything you hear: guitar, hurdy-gurdy, bouzouki, etc. I think he might have a band on some songs, but I don't have the liner notes with me to confirm. Anyway, this album reminded me that, despite my constant listening to avant-garde whatever, I still love songs and popular song forms (just like the UBS album did). Now I buy everything by Smith that I can get my hands on. He hasn't disappointed me yet.

Adam Strohm

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Sonic Youth — Dirty (1992)

This isn't my favorite Sonic Youth record, and I haven't listened to it much for at least 15 years, but this is where it all started for me. As a kid in rural PA who was dipping my two into alternative music through the usual avenues (Nirvana, REM, etc.), I'm not even sure I totally understood why people considered Sonic Youth so important, but something clicked with me, and like so many other people my age, this band was the gateway to so much more. I can probably trace 70% of what I currently listen to back to Sonic Youth in some way, so there's no way I can leave them off of this list, even though their records rarely hit the turntable (except for Rather Ripped, for some reason that one resonates more with me now that it did when it came out). I feel as though this is the most boring entry that will be on any of these lists, but I have no idea what I'd be into these days if I hadn't gotten hooked on Dirty back in 1994 or 95.

Queen — The Game (1980)

I probably listened to more Run DMC or Michael Jackson than anything else as a kid, but Queen was my first favorite band. My dad tells stories about me singing "Don't Try Suicide" in a shopping cart at the grocery store and the weird looks people gave him, and at some point, I found a cassette with a fragment of me singing "Another One Bites The Dust" as I lug the recorder around the house. My Queen fandom simmered for many years, but when I finally decided in college than rock music that predated punk could be good, Queen again loomed large. Their records still surprise me with regularity, and I still love introducing someone who only knows "Bohemian Rhapsody" to "Ogre Battle" or "Brighton Rock," which, to me, may be the best thing the band ever recorded.

Glass — Koyaanisqatsi (1983)

The synthesizer in "Baba O'Riley" was probably the thing that hooked me on minimalism, but it took me a regretably long time to connect the dots from my favorite moment in the Who discography to Terry Riley. By then, I'd already gotten a tape from a friend with Koyaanisqatsi on it. He'd thrown it on the tape thinking I might dig it, and it took some time, but I found myself increasingly and unexpectedly drawn to something I'd thought was cheesy and boring on first listen. Getting comfortable with this music sent me down a path than included, of course, Terry Riley and Steve Reich, but also helped me finally wrangle with drones, and made me really, really glad I'd kept a Phill Niblock promo that I'd been sent years before. The cd that my friend sourced the cassette from skipped at one point, which he didn't know when he sent me the tape. Some days, I miss that version of Koyaanisqatsi.

Frith — Gravity (1980)

College-aged me was a little insufferable when it came to talking music, I think. If there weren't guitars, things usually needed to be harsh, weird, or chaotic for me to care. I professed disinterest in any Coltrane prior to Interstellar Space, and had a hard time knowing how to handle anything that felt too traditional, straightforward, or linear. I saw Fred Frith perform in Vienna in 1999 and loved his style of improvisation; diving into his discography not long later, I came home with Gravity, something decidedly different. It was a bit of a lark for me at the time, something I'd put on to inspire a particular mood, or to confuse my friends, but in quick time, I was in love. This record, along with some others, opened the door for me to let my guard down a bit and let in the stuff I'd found too "normal" before; though Gravity is anything but a normal record, it was a pivotal album for me when it came to branching out as a listener, and it's still a favorite.

Devo — Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! (1978)

This fifth spot is a tough one. So many things could (and maybe should) go here, like Nirvana (duh), a Pavement record, some Coltrane or Ayler, Oren Ambarchi, or maybe Bob Dylan. But Devo gets the nod, partially because their debut has been a favorite and one of the albums I can listen to no matter the situation, and also because there's something about this band and their sensibilities that had a huge effect on me as a young spud. The idea of this sort of strangeness and absurdity as a vehicle of delivery for social commentary, political critique, and subversive sexuality rewired some parts of my brain, and, for a while, made me very serious about making very goofy music. I haven't played in a rock band for years (you're welcome, world), but this record was a huge influence when I did, and shifted the way I thought about the way humor, shock value, and weirdness could work in music.

Derek Taylor

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Jimi Hendrix — Electric Ladyland

Religious, lights-out, prostrate-on-the-bed-with-ear-goggles-affixed immersive listening throughout my teen years and a central pillar of my fealty to music appreciation this day. “Little Miss Strange” is the floating turd in an otherwise pristine Porcelain God of a double-album.

John Coltrane — First Meditations

Classic Quartet dry run for the more widely heralded session with esteemed guests added & bridge to the instrument-transcending utterances that would become Trane’s untimely end-game. “Compassion” still irrigates the eyes to overflowing under the right circumstances.

John Fahey — America

Prerequisite companion to nearly every post-teen road-trip I’ve ever taken. “Dalhart, Texas 1967” in particular is as indelible an evocation of time and place through sound as I’ve ever heard.

Minutemen — Double Nickels on the Dime

Didn’t discover these guys from Pedro until college, but their weird nexus of post-punk, funk, jazz, politics & SoCal see-if-shit-sticks DIY credo instantly won me over. Add to that an unapologetic affection for classic rock staples like CCR and Van Halen and any associative contradictions got ironed out by their unabashed allegiance to humanism.

ZZ Top’s First Album

Three dudes from Tejas who put so much into their debut that coming up with an actual title seemed incidental. Although I never kept count it was probably my most-played cassette in high school and Billy Gibbons’ tenure as Hendrix roadie & professed favorite guitarist brings the list full circle.

#pick only five #favorite albums #feature #dusted magazine #jason bivins #joseph burnett #justin cober-lake #ben donnelly #mason jones #jennifer kelly #brett marion #eric mcdowell #bill meyer #ian mathers #lucas schleicher #derek taylor

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