#ray wolf whistling with his guitar...

[thekidsfromyestergay]

Fuck it post mcrs shared beefcake boyfriend on main

[littlemissaddict]

Shirtless - Luke x Reader

Julie and the Phantoms Appreciation Week

Day 6 (November 7): Visual prompt: play it on repeat // Fanfiction prompt: write a fic with your favourite fanfiction trope

@jatp-week

The first time you walked in on Luke shirtless it had been an accident you were looking for Julie and Carlos had told you she was out in the studio so you didn’t stop to knock you just walked in.

“Hey y/n” Luke smiled unfazed looking through one of the bags of clothes he kept in there for a t-shirt before finding the one he wanted and pulling it on.

“Oh..um sorry I was um just looking for Julie” you mutter out feeling your cheeks heat and looking anywhere but Luke.

He chuckled “She’s not here yet but she won’t be long, take a seat” he said stretching then reaching for his guitar, getting ready for rehearsal.

---

The next time you saw Luke shirtless was not an accident. You, Julie, Flynn and the boys had all gone down to the beach for the day and the first thing Luke had done was strip down to his underwear and leg it into the sea making every one laugh.

You had set yourself down away from the water on a blanket, where you laid with your eyes closed as you felt the rays of sunshine warm your body until the sun was blocked from your body by a figure staring down at you. You opened your eyes to find Luke above you, water dripping off him from head to foot, a smirk on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Y/n are you coming to join us” Luke asked as he looks to the rest of the group in the water.

“In a bit” you sighed closing your eyes again hoping he would leave and you could continue to sunbathe but you were wrong when you felt his arms underneath you lifting you up making you shout in surprise.

“No, now” he laughed adjusting his hold on you pulling you closer into him so he didn’t drop you. You could here the others laughing the closer you got and you know your cheeks were bright red and you were hoping to be able to pass it off as just the heat but Luke saw right through you “Aw your blushing” he said a smirk finding its way to his face again.

“Put me down you idiot” you laugh trying to struggle out of his grasp but it causes him to loose his footing and he trips both of you ending up in the water “Luke” you pout “now I’m all wet” you say making him chuckle

“Isn’t that the point of going in the water” he asks getting up and pulling you up as well.

“Yeah but not when I’m fully clothed” you moan looking down at your wet clothes.

“Well just take them off and lay them in the sun they’ll soon dry” he says with a shrug placing his hands on your hips “I mean you did bring something for swimming in didn’t you” he asks but before you have a chance to reply you hear a shout from the group

“Get a room already” Flynn shouts making the others laugh and you feel a blush rising on your face again as you look towards them

“We’re only talking” you shout turning your attention back to Luke who is still looking at you a soft smile on his face, you vaguely hear Alex shout something about chemistry and Luke shakes his head. It’s only then that you realise Luke’s hands are still on your hips and that he’s leaning into you, his eyes looking from yours to your lips and then back as if silently asking for permission. His lips softly brush against your own a couple of times before you decide you’ve had enough and lean forward, eyes closing, capturing his lips with your own as he pulls you closer. 

You both pull away when you hear cheers and wolf whistles coming from your friends, eyes meeting each others and big smiles on your face. “So you like me huh” he teases reaching for your hand. 

You shake your head and give him a playful slap on the arm “Don’t get too cocky now, I might have to change my mind” you tease as you finally reach the rest of the group.

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

CHAPTER 6 (hadestown au)

A train comes up the railroad tracks. “That was not six months!” Alex shouts. “She's gonna ride that train 'til the end of the line, 'cause the King of the Mine is coming to call. Did you ever wonder what it's like on the underside?” Medda says loudly. “On the other side of his wall. Follow that dollar for a long way down. Far away from the poorhouse door. You either get to hell or to Hadestown, ain’t no difference anymore! Way down Hadestown, way down under the ground.”

“Hound dog howl and the whistle blow, train come a-rollin, clickety-clack. Everybody tryin' to get a ticket to go, but those who go they don’t come back.” Medda’s voice floats through the air, taunting Alex.“Winter's nigh and summer's o'er. Hear that high, lonesome sound of my husband coming for to bring me home to Hadestown.” Alex says darkly.

“Down there, it's a bunch of stiffs. Brother, I'll be bored to death. Gonna have to import some stuff just to entertain myself. Give me morphine in a tin. Give me a crate of the fruit of the vine. Takes a lot of medicine to make it through the wintertime.”

Now the fates sing. Their voices are haunting. Only those who have godly blood running through their veins can hear it. The voices of the fates stick in your head. A faint echo you can never get rid of. “Every little penny in the wishing well. Every little nickel on the drum. All them shiny little heads and tails. Where do you think they come from? They come from way down Hadestown, way down under the ground.”

“Everybody hungry. Everybody tired. Everybody slaves by the sweat of his brow. The wage is nothing and the work is hard. It's a graveyard in Hadestown. Mr. Jack is a mean old boss.” Medda hums. “With a silver whistle and a golden scale,” Alex adds. “And he weighs the cost and your soul for sale.” Medda has no fear of Jack, as she is an immortal god. Others would not speak so freely. “On the Road to Hell, there was a railroad car. And the car door opened and a man stepped out. Everybody looked and everybody saw. It was the same man they'd been singin' about.” Medda goes silent.

“You're early!” Alex yells. “I missed you.” Alex shakes her head, an exhausted sigh leaving her lips. But she boards the train, leaving the world to return to winter. “With Alex gone, the cold came on.” Medda watched as the sun fell from the sky and snow started to rain down. “He came too soon! It's not supposed to be like this.” Davey runs a hand through his hair in anger. “Well. 'Til someone brings the world back into tune, this is how it is.” 

Davey stands up and walks off with his guitar in hand. “Hey, where are you going?” Cora calls. “I have to finish the song.” 

“Finish it quick. The wind is changing. There's a storm coming on. We need food! We need firewood. Did you hear me? Davey?” He couldn’t hear her. He was surrounded by his song. All other noise was nonexistent. 

While the two lovers froze above, Alex was baking below. “In the coldest time of year, why is it so hot down here? Hotter than a crucible. It ain't right and it ain't natural.” workers pounded at the stones around them. Sweat rolled of their bodies, the only water in sight. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So I built a foundry in the ground beneath your feet. Here, I fashioned things of steel. Oil drums and automobiles. Then I kept that furnace fed

with the fossils of the dead. Lover, when you feel that fire, think of it as my desire, think of it as my desire for you!” 

Back on the surface, the storm had hit. Fierce snow and wind, the kind that rends flesh from bone. Sharp as a wolf’s teeth. Cora was out searching for food and wood. Her coat the only thing keeping her warm. “Looking high and looking low, for the food and firewood I know we need to find and I am keeping one eye on the sky and tryin' to trust that the song he's working on is gonna shelter us from the wind.” her voice is lost in the wind.

While her cheeks turned blue, Alex’s turned red. “In the darkest time of year, why is it so bright down here? Brighter than a carnival. It ain't right and it ain't natural.” Lights shown down on her. Blinding and buzzing. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So I laid a power grid in the ground on which you stood, and wasn't it electrifying when I made the neon shine? Silver screen, cathode ray. Brighter than the light of day. Lover, when you see that glare

think of it as my despair. Think of it as my despair for you!” Hades sang.

“Every year, it's getting worse. Hadestown, hell on Earth! Did you think I'd be impressed

With this neon necropolis? Lover, what have you become? Coal cars and oil drums. Warehouse walls and factory floors. I don't know you anymore. And in the meantime up above the harvest dies and people starve. Oceans rise and overflow. It ain't right and it ain't natural!” 

“Lover, everything I do, I do it for the love of you. If you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does. Someone grateful for her fate. Someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage and doesn't try to fly away the moment Mother Nature calls. Someone who could love these walls that hold her close and keep her safe and think of them as my embrace.”

As these lovers quarreled, the lovers above them were about to be torn apart. Davey worked on his song. Cora called out for him. He didn’t hear.

[narcissusneverknewme]

The Grand Hotel

Somewhere below the Grand Hotel

There is a tunnel that leads down to hell

That’s Simon’s voice. No one in this place could ever mistake that voice. Not singing, not speaking, not crying. If they heard it for the first time in a hundred years, or a hundred thousand, they would know it. The few short months that had past since it last filled these lifeless halls had certainly not begun to mar the memory of it.

There was a time, when first it became familiar, that the inhabitants of that once-silent building would have done nearly anything to escape his voice.

Now, they drift slowly from dark rooms and deep corners of the Dumort, pulled from the shadows towards its bright, seemingly magnetic sound.

Take the dumbwaiter, the laundry chute

Then sneak through the hall past the boys shining boots

Deep within the hotel, Stan finds himself floating out of his room, into the passageway. Blinking slowly as though still waking up, he sees the others filling the hall. It’s strange, surreal, to see so many people moving in harmony. They all mirror Stan’s gradual, almost involuntary movements and dreamy expression. Slow eyes hover over one another before turning upward, as though they could peer through the ceiling to see the source of the song many floors above.

Turn left at the courtyard, through the old garden

Where all the bellhops smoke with the guards

And then you run to the old lake house

Down to the old lake house

Run to the old lake house where it begins

Simon’s singing. He hasn’t sung in a long time. He hasn’t been home in a long time.

Home. Somehow, this moment is the first time he’s realized that the Dumort is his home. As dark and strange and full of bloody, tear-stained secrets as it is, it’s his home.

He plays his guitar with ease, the rhythm and chords coming to him freely. The words are harder. He hears them again as he sings them, thinks about them like he’d never heard them before.

Under the floorboards there's a deep well

That leads to a spring that sprung up in hell

Hell . The word had entered his mind with new meaning after his death.

When he’d woken, lungs filling with earth and body aching with cold, as he’d clawed his way through six feet of suffocating sod, as the crushing feeling of being buried and unsure of the way upwards had choked him as effectively as the dirt filling his mouth and nose, the word had flickered briefly through his head, then was pushed aside by desperation.

When he’d emerged only for cold and panic to be replaced by hunger, burning hunger, the word was still there, in the back of his mind.

When he’d realized what his afterlife really was, he’d thought it again. He was a monster; not as in a “bad person,” an actual monster. Dangerous, predatory, unable even to live without sucking the vitality out of other human’s veins. He was a devil, and he was trapped with himself for eternity. That, he’d thought, was as literal an interpretation of “hell on Earth” as was possible. He’d thought then that he understood.

Now, as he sang in his favorite nook, tucked away with his guitar on the penultimate floor of the Hotel Dumort, he knew that Hell was not pain. It was not fear, nor thirst, nor demons. He knew now that to be damned was to fall--  to be cast out. It was separation. It was the knowledge that his loss and isolation were his own choice. It was guilt. It was sin. It was his own betrayal of those he’d loved.

That's where old devils danced and kissed

And made their blood pacts in the ancient myths

Simon can picture in perfect detail Raphael’s expression when he’d declared Simon a traitor. He wishes he couldn’t. He wishes the memory of that look wasn’t so much clearer than all his others, like it was branded on his mind. Like it’ll be there when time has erased every other memory.

Maybe one day he won’t remember what Raphael’s laugh sounded like. Or the defiance in his face when Simon had seen the mark the cross around Raphael’s neck burned into his skin. Or that half-repressed smile he’d worn the night Simon made Raphael dance with him. Lily had wolf-whistled from what she clearly judged to be a safe distance, she was lucky Raphael was feeling generous: he’d ignored her, lips turning up just a bit more.

Simon’s clan had been his family, and he’d owed them loyalty. He had not given it. If he still remembered his treachery when every other memory had faded away, he’d deserve it.

And running through forest they screamed in chorus

While piercing fair maidens' chests with their horns

Raphael stands on the rooftop of the Dumort, hands stiffly at his sides. The sun is safely tucked beneath the horizon, but colors linger in the sky, traces of daylight still in the air-- it’s his favorite time; the most human time.

Dusk always evoked a certain longing in Raphael. When he’d first found himself confined to the night with the rest of the dark things, the sunset had been painful. The grief he’d felt at seeing it had been unexpected and overwhelming.

It was fitting in a way, death had become his domain, and the dying sun was the only light permitted in his life. The first time he’d watched it set really knowing that he’d never see it rise again, the pain he’d felt had left him breathless. It was like someone had punched a hole through him, leaving his lungs gasping and his chest empty.

But time dulls everything, even for the undead. It had been years since the gloaming had brought more than a dull twinge to Raphel. Tonight is different.

A single floor separates him and the sound of Simon’s voice. He’s singing, a song that manages to be both playful and melancholy. Raphael can’t help listening, he can’t ignore the soft sound of Simon’s voice anymore than he can ignore the ache in his own chest. As the sun rays recede, the pull Raphael had felt-- the need to be out here, breathing in what light he can-- fades with it. Something else tugs at him, another kind of light calling to him.

And then they lay in the grass 'til the dawn came

Sleeping away 'til the dawn came

Lay in the grass where now stands the Grand Hotel

The vampires are all stirring now, gravitating towards the big spaces where they’ve danced to this voice before.

The maître d' and a fancy chef

Silver's real, the liquor's top shelf

Play some tennis, swim in a pool

Stroll the garden, shady and cool

Simon’s always reminded Lily of living things, growing things. He’s crept into their hearts in such an unexpected way. He’d had them all wrapped up in his clutches before they’d quite known what they were about, like vines twining around a tree.

When he hadn’t chosen them, when he chose the Nephilim, when he chose her , Lily had felt his vinelike fingers, coiled around the clan’s hearts, shredding through them like thread through butter.

She’d been angry, then sad, and then… she’d wilted. Simon had brought humanity and energy back into their lives and then he’d taken it away again. Without it, she couldn’t even stay sad. She’d just grown lethargic, sinking further into apathy than she’d ever done.

Now his music, his emotion, the barely-there sound of one of his legs vibrating with excess energy, fills the hotel again. Lily feels it rousing her. The song is full of thoughts forlorn and wistful. It reminds Lily how much she misses life. It’s nostalgic and challenging and she isn’t sure she likes it.

You won't care that the devils

Won't mind that the devils

Won't know that the devils are near

Simon knows that the sun is setting, that the hotel will be waking up soon, and he’s afraid. He’d done what he could to atone for wronging Raphael, he’d found Camille and endangered himself to capture her. When things went south (as they inevitably did) he’d proved just how remorseful he was; just how loyal to Raphael and the clan; just how dedicated to Raphael’s safety. In return, Raphael had told him he was allowed back in the hotel. That was two weeks ago.

Yesterday, Simon finally got up the courage to return, but he couldn’t imagine just waltzing in the front doors. Bursting in like a student 15 minutes late to class on the first day, all eyes turning to him to sit in judgement. So he’d snuck in before the sun set and the Dumort rose.

He’d sat down to wait for the others to wake, but he’d run out patience, run out of nerve, after only a few moments.

The music had been meant to calm him. He was trying to keep his mind off his impending reunion with his fearless leader and the clan. It isn’t working. At all.

He wants to see him, them. But he’s scared, and so, so sorry.

Somewhere below the grand hotel

There is a tunnel that leads straight to hell

The Dumort used to be a kind of hell for Simon, he thinks idly as his fingers pluck the strings. He thinks it might have been a kind of hell for all of them.

But no one comes up for the souls anymore

They come for some comfort and for the dance floor

And hiding sharp horns under fedoras

Do not disturb signs instead of a chorus

The vampires are standing in the lobby and the stateroom. They’re all listening now, eyeing each other to see who’ll give in first. None of them have ever been able to resist.

Finally, Lily offers Elliott her hand. They dance. Others begin dancing in pairs, or small groups, or even alone. It’s nothing like a vampire party. The lights are low, the music is soft and clear, and when they dance it’s slow.

Elliott’s hand is almost warm where it holds Lily’s. That’s probably impossible. Lily isn’t sure.

As they dance past, Lily notices that sad, ever-silent European couple. They’re holding each other in a way that looks stately and rigid, moving in a traditional, elegant dance. They’re looking into each other’s eyes. In the second that Lily watches them, she can see that they’re communicating. She thinks maybe they’re still in love.

They toss and turn 'til the dawn comes

On soft sheets 'til the dawn comes

No one sleeps at the grand hotel

Simon lets the music soothe his anxiety as much as it can. Tonight, whatever it holds, whatever welcome he receives from his clan, from Raphael, tonight is going to be pivotal.

Room service, mini-bar

Scented soaps, chauffeured cars

The low light of the room takes on an otherworldly glow as the twilight in the window wanes. The bodies continue their unhurried dance.

Stay a day, stay a week

Here's the tunnel, take a peek

Raphael’s feet have been itching to follow the sound. He can see the lights of the Stateroom filtering out onto the abandoned sidewalk below where he stands on the edge of the roof. He can see the shadows of his clan, swaying to the sounds of Simon’s guitar.

There’s a breeze, but he doesn’t feel it. There’s the scent of strangers on the wind and the sound of the city is all around him, but Raphael can’t sense any of it. He feels only that longing for sunlight, tugging him downwards, urging him on. Into the the stairwell, down, down, along the hall… He moves at speeds only a vampire could, but it takes too long . There’s a hole in his chest and a song in the air and he needs to reach it before it’s gone.

Just call up your friends at the front desk

Any hour at the front desk

Simon hears footsteps, but can’t make out who they belong to over the sound of the guitar and his own voice. He’s really got to work on his vampy senses. He should have heard whoever it was wake up, let alone get this close to him.

For a moment he wonders who’s going to round the corner and find him hiding in the alcove.

When it’s Raphael he’s surprised to find himself… unsurprised. And, more remarkably, unafraid.

He looks in Raphael’s face, properly for the first time since that horrible day a few long months ago. The features look exactly as he remembers them in that moment, but the expression is totally different. There’s something startling there, something deep and searching. Something that looks like fear, or possibly hope.

Call up your friends at the Grand Hotel

It’s him. Of course, it’s him, Raphael already knew that. But it’s different to know than to see.

He’s tucked into a weird shape, trying to fit all his limbs plus a guitar into a small alcolve. The leg his instrument isn’t resting on is bouncing wildly, out of time. Whether the motion is powered by nerves or simply pent up energy, Raphael doesn’t know.

Simon looks up, from the guitar as Raphael nears, fingers not pausing, voice not faltering. His eyes meet Raphael’s, and they’re full of the same light they’ve always been. Of course they are. And Simon and Raphael look at one another, both seem to be asking the same question. For a moment, Raphael isn’t sure if they get the same answer.

Suddenly, Simon’s face breaks into a wide smile, and it looks like a sunrise. It feels like a sunrise. Raphael can’t help it: He smiles back.

You'll always have friends at the Grand Hotel

The End.

[lightningghuleh]

Rising To a New Life

Lightning got up early and got dressed. She yawned as she made her way to the bathroom, since hers had a plumbing issue at the moment. The door was locked. Just her luck. Grumbling, she waited outside.

Zero saw her as he began making his way downstairs. "Good morning, Ghuleh. Sleep well?" He asked taking in some of his oxygen. Lightning shrugged. "I guess. What do you need me to do today?" She asked, yawning again, and covering her mouth. Zero pondered. "Well, we need to see what will best suit you. I need you on your as soon as possible, my Lightning." He spoke. Lightning blinked in surprise. That soon? Wow, she hadn't even practiced with the band.

The door to the bathroom clicked open, and a six foot something Ghoul exited. "Morning. Ah. You must be Lightning. I'm Air." The tall Ghoul said, in a soft tone. They shook hands, and Lightning went to use the bathroom.

After leaving the bathroom, Lightning bumped into someone. She looked up and saw Third. "Forgive me, Lord Third. I did not mean to do that." Lightning said, and quickly knelt down with her hand over her left side. "Oh, all is forgiven. I was preoccupied with this book." Third smiled. Wow, he was more down to earth than his brothers. Lightning stood up and noticed it was War of The Worlds. "That is an excellent book, I'm rereading it myself. What chapter are you on?" Lightning asked, enthusiasm in her voice. "The Martians have just released their ray." Third said. "That's one of the best chapters. Reading is a great past time. Looks like we have something in common." Lightning grinned. "Looks like. Hadn't you better get to practice? Alpha can be quite irritable if you're late." Third smiled. The new Ghuleh nodded and rushed off down the hall. "Hmm. Father seemed to have chosen well." Third said to himself.

As she rushed through the maze of corridors she spotted Omega wolfing down an uncooked steak. "Morning Lightning. Picked up some food for you, so you can eat it on the way to practice." Omega said, between mouthfuls. "Uncooked? You sure?" She asked, taking the raw red meat from him. "Try it. You're a Ghoul now, you can eat raw meat." Omega encouraged. Lightning sighed and used her sharp, demonic teeth to tear into the meat. It was surprisingly delicious uncooked. "That's good. Where's practice anyway?" She asked. Omega told her to follow him, and they got talking whilst heading to practice.

"I was practicing with my powers last night when I went to bed. Some of the symbols I drew kinda... Well.." she got a bit red. "Blew up the plumbing and electricity?" Came a familiar, dominating voice. Omega and Lightning turned around and saw Alpha. "Yeah... About that..." She said nervously, before Alpha grabbed her by the throat, his hand squeezing the air from her. "I told you, keep your powers in check, you useless-" he spat, before somebody cleared their throat.

Alpha turned around and saw Zero. His eyes widened, and he dropped Lightning. "Just what are you doing to my Ghuleh?" He wheezed. Alpha growled and knew he had to speak or run the risk of punishment. "She needs to keep her powers in check." He said. Zero held up his hand, and Alpha stopped before he had the chance to say any more. "She's only recently been turned, Fire. I recall you were just as bad with your powers when you were turned, as was your brother. Unlike you, Omega understands this situation." Zero snapped, before taking in huge gasps of oxygen. "My Lord, it's fine. Alpha is right, I need to learn to control my power. It's not as... Stable as the other elements." Lightning spoke, trying to defend Alpha. The Alpha Ghoul looked shocked that Lightning was defending him, but quickly removed that look from his face. "I don't need you to defend me, Sparky." Alpha snarled. "Well sorry, Flame Brain." Lightning said, sarcastically. She folded her arms, and looked back at her master. "I'm sorry I caused the electrical shortage, my Lord. I'll try and rectify it." She vowed. Alpha rolled his eyes. "Well practice is postponed until you do, Sparky. Get to it." Alpha ordered. Lightning looked at Zero for permission and he nodded.

It took her a while to find the basement, but she found it. She could see well in the dark thanks to her Ghoulish sight. She found the box and charged some electricity in the palm of her hand and sent the charge through the box. The electricity came back on. "Well that's sorted." She sighed, and walked out of the basement.

Retracing her steps, Lightning made it to the practice room. "So. You decided to show up." Alpha snorted. He threw her a book. "Keep up. Not that you'll be able to. Lead and rhythm lines. Got it, Sparky?" Alpha asked. Lightning looked at him with an uncaring glare. "Whatever, Flame Brain. Just shut up and start before I fall asleep due to boredom." Lightning snapped back. Earth let out a low whistle. There was clearly tension between these two.

"What did you say?" Alpha growled, locking his horns with Lightning's. "The Flam Brain part or the falling asleep part?" Lightning asked, a snarky smile on her lips. Alpha was having none of her remarks. The other Ghouls watched on, Water and Omega as well as Air were worried for the younger Ghuleh.

After about an hour, Lightning submitted. "You put up a good fight. For a newbie." Alpha smirked, picking Lightning up. "No one's ever stood up to me before. Let's hear you play, Sparky." He said, throwing her a guitar. Her arm had been broken in the fight, but Air reassured her it would be healed right away. She sighed and picked up a plectrum that bore her symbol and began playing the intro to a firm favourite of hers. Square Hammer. Earth followed after the first note, Alpha correcting her every so often. "Just bare in mind, you're only back up if either myself or Omega can't play." Alpha sighed. Lightning nodded.

She suddenly stopped after playing a wrong note. "We were almost there, Lightning." Omega said. Lightning stood up, shoving the guitar into its stand and rushing out of the room. "Did I pass gas or something?" Earth asked. Alpha rolled his eyes, and followed after Lightning. Sure she was a pain but he was the leader of the Ghouls and had to make sure all of them were okay.

[plungermusic]

The sounds of California… the climate of Seattle.

Maverick Saturday had the real flavour of the West Coast, particularly on the open air Southern Sounds main stage, with a wide range of the Golden State’s sun-drenched sounds and an increasingly ominous Rain City sky.

Kev Walford & Kelly Bayfield [main picture] were the ideal breezy main stage openers, with Crosby/Nash-like increasingly complex multi-voice harmonies on Money Rules In My World Now, and the moody Renaissance-style proggy folk of The Whistling Man with Kelly’s limpid clarity and a gooseflesh-raising midbreak of noodling Telecaster, soft mallet toms and lush wordless Crosbyesque harmonies.

Robbie Cavanagh [below] proved every bit as good as we recalled from previous hearings: from the big bold Jackson-Browne-at-Glastonbury sound of Get Out Alive with its anthemic progression and punchy chorus to the slow country waltz of Roles Reversed where Robbie’s breathy emotive vox and simple acoustic were backed by Everlyesque harmony interjections and pedal-steel-aping slide guitar. New song Helpless showed a sure hand with sweaty Memphis soul, with impressively soulful vox and twangsome solos from both Robbie and Neil Watkins. Eaglesy flavours abounded in Scars, with its portentous hook and slick multi-part vocals, and in the closing shitkicking two-step of Choked Up where the sublime harmonies shone in an a cappella passage.

Imogen Clark returned looking and sounding rather different to last year: the floaty troubadouress dress and delivery replaced by a spangly all in one trouser halter top and a similarly gussied up mainstream country sound. Easygoing fine vocals (and great backing from fellow Aussies Lachlan Bryan and the Wildes) delivered a Sheryl Crowish Late Night Girl and an anthemic Take Me For A Ride which left folks of a certain age humming Baba O’Riley…

A quick trip to the barn brought plenty troubadouress vibes in the solo acoustic set of Lilly Winwood [below], a deconstructed Big Skies ballad-style take on her father’s Can’t Find My Way Home amply demonstrating her big powerful vocal (genes really are everything!)

Returning to the main stage we caught a surprisingly young lad doing a brief but accomplished burst of Duelling Banjos before Lachlan Bryan and the Wildes’ own set. Lachlan’s gritty-but-mournful stationhand vocal fitted the excellent Outback outlaw country of Ballad Of A Young Married Man perfectly, with plangent electric guitar and girly harmoniess. Imogen Clark returned the favour by returning for bvs in the cinematic shamble of Deathwish Country and to duet with Lachlan on the old time Basics Of Love, while the dreamy Buddhist Priestess with lush keys had Hannah Aldridge guesting.

No Coward Soul drew the short straw - as they began their (for Plunger) curate’s egg set alternating upbeat danceable rockabilly meets Mumford & Sons cider advert tunes, with more intriguing numbers with touches of sophisticated latinate rhythms and some off-kilter Dead-style lopes, the long threatened drizzle set in, prompting an outbreak of brollies, cagoules and military spec rain capes [and the retirement of cameras, sadly].

Don Gallardo showed a very British sense of irony: Stay Awhile (with its “Sun is gonna shine” lyric) with great pedal steel came as the rain intensified and the exodus for cover began. There was more fine steel work (and weather references) in the relaxed Diamonds & Gold, and an appropriately dreich North Dakota Blues. Lilly Winwood brought her powerful voice to the bustling Shine A Light with chiming pedal steel and sunny harmonies, a slower How Many Days with its anthemic wordless vox-led coda, and the wistful acoustic two-hander Rhyder’s Song. The threatening chug of Banks Of The Mississippi, driven by choppy guitar and tight 1-2 beat, evoked the Stones’ miss you, which the band obligingly segued into in an extended coda!

The joint prize for bad luck and perseverance went to Seattle’s Massy Ferguson: their brand of grungy, southern rock-informed, clap-above-your-head stadium country (providing the punchline to a “Charlie Starr, Tom Petty, Kurt Cobain and Ronnie Van Zant walk into a bar…” gag) was ideal sun-drenched festival crowd-pleasing fare. As it was they played a spirited full-on set to a knot of (just plain drenched) die hards who lapped it up: screaming along to Powder Blue and jigging about to the metronomic Can’t Remember and Maybe The Gods with Rachel Harrington guesting. Wolf Moon was a brief moodier interlude with trad sounding melody and nice harmonica, but the set closed with the hypnotic hybrid of Lou Reed and Springsteen, Momma’s In The Backseat with its overdriven guitar harmonics and a proper ‘big rock’ ending.

Conceding defeat to the rain Jeb Loy Nichols [above] was moved indoors to the Peacock Stage. Perhaps he’d originally got a band lined up to play with, but here (with only the one acoustic guitarist and his own 3/4 guitar) he delivered a very mellow set that would have been incongruous following what preceded it on the main stage. His soft silky vox and soul-cum-jazz-cum-calypso songs (including the highly apt As The Rain, Long Live The Loser and Room 522) evoked Labi Siffre crossed with Gil Scott Heron (in my kinder moments: less kindly, Val Doonican crossed with Jake Thackray). At any other festival it’d have been raining wee-filled Woodpecker bottles outside.

With stirring, resonant voice, occasional electronic drums and atmospheric electric guitar accents Angel Snow [below} returned us to the West Coast in dreamy ambient country: the kick-driven dance-meets-Petty Secrets with its complex beats and chiming guitar, and the Viktor Krauss cowritten Lie Awake combined for a modern rework of Nicksian reverie or Miranda Lee Richards trippy whimsy.

Despite Ray Hughes’ mohican, Black Feathers’ old time harmonies delivered to a single mic were more in the vein of traditional Americana: the gentle, slow Lighthouse On Fire saw his-and-hers shared verses with wife Sian and a thrilling a cappella close, and more a cappella featured in the folky, backwoods Down By The River.

You can’t get more country than a former rodeo rider… Rachel Harrington not only brings the CV but also a classic Tammy/Patsy breaking-but-strong nasal Nashville twang, and a nice line in intersong banter. After the “a little ironic” Sunshine accompanied by JD Hobson on sweet dobro slide, and Hush The Wild Horses’ lazy four-footed stroll through Laurel Canyon, the lilting, folky-picked I Meant To Go To Memphis was prefaced with a tale of falling off the wagon thanks to the peculiarly British practice of “adorable little half pints”. That may have lain behind the tremulous country waltz Drinking About You, too, although military marching chants were the surprise inspiration for the Elvis-meets-101st Airborne rockabilly of Drop Zone.

Norton Money (Broken Island’s Dan Beaulaurier, Jeremy and Anna from Hallelujah Trails, and drummer Jamie Shaw) were the discovery of the weekend. A Cordovas-y combination of twangsome country, louche Dead-ish lopes, tight harmonies and jamband sensibilities ran through Queen Of Tunitas, the Mexicali-spiced Kickin’ & Cursin’, and a cover of Warren Zevon’s Carmelita with Anna taking soft impassioned lead vocal. Latest release The Ballad Of Hi & Lo (which we promptly bought right after the show) gave us Hey Lucy (one of several Caleish shitkicking boogies); Dream The Same Dream (after a Fistful Of Dollars intro) was a haunting minor key epic with soft mallet cymbals, hypnotic bass, fragile harmonies, and extended jamband plinking, while Lie Awake’s easygoing shamble developed into trippy Dark Star noodling and intertwining wordless multi-part vocals.

Hannah Aldridge covered almost the whole Americana spectrum in one set, from the folky acoustic-only emotive introspection of Gold Rush with her clear strong drawled vox and judicious harmonies from Robbie Cavanagh; through a cover of Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings’ Ruby with fine fiddle from Chance McCoy and bassist Gustav Sjödin swapping to guitar and lead vox, right through to Burning Down Birmingham, a rollicking, country rock epic with the crowd providing a lusty choir-and-clap backing for Hannah [below] to sing over.

Rich Hall’s parody / pastiche / homage to country (with a large dollop of stand up) was a hoot. From established routines like the riff on Ipswich girls (punchline “it could’ve been worse… she might have been from Colchester”), the critique of The Little Drummer Boy, (“… what is he going to do? Bonham triplets? Purdie shuffle? Nope… ‘pa-rum-pa-pum-pum’, Jeez”) to improv-ish songs for Gary and his partner, My Eritrean Trucking Buddy (dedicated to a local trucker) and the song for a psychiatric nurse about how country tropes and characters are all explainable by mental illness. His finest hour though came with his Bob Dylan song… with Bob on stage this evening we won’t spoil the surprise.

Having been caught out with the post-11 finish the night before we made good and certain to book a taxi for the 11.30 scheduled close on Saturday, but thanks to cumulative overrunning replacement headliner Will Hoge was so late on stage we only caught Oh Mr Barnum’s stately progress with high taut vox, relaxed rhythm and expansive overdriven guitar; and about thirty seconds of the rattling Pettyish freeway-cruiser Secondhand Heart before scooting off already late for our long-suffering cab driver…