#schmaltzy waltz

[bixels]

your occasional references to old hollywood romances have wormed deeply into my brain and now i'm kind of dying to watch some but i have. no clue where to start, any recs?

Brief Encounter, a 1945 romantic tragedy. Really, really visually gorgeous film and one of the most romantic spark-of-love scenes ever. The tragedy of two ships (or trains) passing in the night.

Honestly? I've always really loved the romance in The Sound of Music. When the Captain and Maria are waltzing. When the Captain turns his back in the dance with a flash of doubt, only to smile when he feels Maria's hand find his. When they come to a stop and stare into each other's eyes and realize in horror that they're in love, and the vaseline on the lens is working double-time to make it one of the most glowy, schmaltzy shots in film history (Literally the inspiration for that one moment in my Rarijack fic).

And obviously all the classics. Casa Blanca, Roman Holiday, The Apartment (one of the best subtle twists in film history),

Feel free to drop reccs in the replies too.

[penroseparticle]

2 13 and 26?

2. A song you like with a number in the title

212 by Azealia Banks ft. Lazy Jay BAYBEE. Fuck if this song doesn't eat even today. I cannot help but move when this song is on. It's perfect in my eyes. Azealia Banks has been part of some... Strange moments. And she has made a lot of choices that I do not stand for or with even a little.

1901 by Phoenix gets an honorable mention.

13. One of your favorite 80's songs

I love me some Hall and Oates. I think this time I'm gonna go with I Can't Go For That (No Can Do) by Hall and Oates. I just think it's a good song. It's got some. like. Almost video game menu synth in the background going on? It's so understated and loopable. It pretty easily blends in the background. The airy ethereal stuff comes in when they're crooning about doing anything, and then the guitar comes in when they say no. Song's got a good structure, emotions are clearly mapped onto it. AND YOU KNOW MY BOY GOT A SAXOPHONE SOLO MIDWAY THROUGH. Great song, timeless.

26. A song that makes you want to fall in love

I think Say Anything is a band that I've always been sort of attached to growing up that almost doesn't deserve it. We all have one of those earnest, blinking, newborn colt songs, where our tastes or the band or even both are still growing into our stilt like baby legs, taking shaky steps that are full of promise but still a little rough around the edges. I think it was one of the first bands I listened to with swears in the lyrics, which made me feel secret and adult. They talked about sex, and masturbating, and emotions that weren't tidy or positive. They were what i needed at the time.

But I don't know, I've always been a schmaltzy loser. I think my favorite song of theirs is The Futile, but one song that makes me want to fall in love is I Want To Know Your Plans. It's a waltz! It is an honest to god waltz where you sing to the love of your life that you want to know their plans. Because you want in. You want to BE the plans. They keep you breathing. They give you strength. And you want to do the same. I don't know, I just love the devotion. I did it for you Marge. I would kill for you. Please ask me to kill for you.

It's quiet and kind and earnest. He says some corny shit, and some stuff that doesn't quite fit. I don't know. It feels real. He really will look out for this girl until they rot. He's all in.

I like it. I don't think it has to be perfect to be love. And I don't think this song needs perfection. It would be worse if it were polished, I think.

I would dance to this at my wedding. I've said that for years now and it hasn't stopped being true. I don't know. I hope the people close to me get it. Even if they don't get the song, they get why the song is mine. That's love too.

[kunosoura]

no I'm not romantic. I just i want to rent a riverboat going down the mississippi river in late summer early autumn with a small but tasteful band, close family and friends only, the first dance is something lively and folksy in waltz time between me and the person I've dedicated the rest of my life to. And right as the sun sets and the band plays the slow, romantic, schmaltzy last song, as I'm resting my head on my beloved's shoulder as the music bids farewell to the setting sun, we pull into New Orleans. and all my family and friends who aren't squares or otherwise require to be temperate (open invitation to anyone who didn't quite make the boat list) joins the wedding party for a night of true debauchery. ideally this is right in the heat of some sort of festival, Mardi Gras is a bit too early in the year, too chilly, maybe if global warming keeps up, but I hear the mid to late summer has all sorts of carnival style festivals.

the difficult task of balancing my principled opposition to the institution of marriage and monogamy and heterosexuality with my urge to plan a big fancy wedding I'll probably never have

[fallen-gravity]

the good kind of scared

Luz takes Amity out on their first date as an official couple.

Amity can’t stop thinking about certain circumstances of a certain night.

Notes: 

WARNING: This fic contains major spoilers for Season 2, Episode 8 (Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door) of the Owl House. Read at your own risk.

Here’s my first shot at an owl house fic! I love Luz and Amity so much, they remind me so much of myself and my journey as a young wlw, and I wish them nothing but the best on their relationship journey.

AO3 

Luz regrets telling Eda she wanted to ask Amity out.

It’s not that she’s being mean or judgmental about the whole ordeal, and it’s not even that she’s being overprotective and going full Owlbeast on Amity for getting too close, or threatening to break something of hers if she breaks Luz’s heart.

Oh no. Luz would absolutely prefer Eda threatening to drop Amity off in the middle of the wilderness for hurting her to what she’s actually doing.

Every time Luz even mentions Amity, even if she’s just talking about her day at school, Eda’s on her back with a nudge of her shoulders, a hip check, and a wink. It’s always “How’s your girlfriend doing, Luz?” this and “When are you bringing your girlfriend home, Luz?” that. 

If Luz’s face could burn any hotter she’s sure it would catch on fire.

(She shudders at the thought of how much more embarrassing her mother back home is going to be about it).

Honestly, it’s a miracle she was even able to plan their first date without Eda butting in at all.

“Bring her home by midnight!” Eda singsongs, tossing her staff to Amity as the two of them are heading out the door. “Now go have fun, you crazy kids!” 

Luz scrubs her hands down her face and groans into them. Beside her, Amity giggles nervously. 

“I’ll try,” she murmurs under her breath, and it only makes Luz’s blush even worse.

“I’m so sorry about her” Luz groans once they’re outside and Eda is out of earshot. “I begged her not to be embarrassing about this whole thing, but she just laughed at me and told me that was her job”

Amity laughs, bashfully covering her mouth with a hand. She’s so cute. “It’s fine. You wouldn’t believe how Edric and Emira acted when I told them where I was going. I thought I was going to be stuck at home with all of their squealing for hours before they finally let me go”

Luz can’t help but laugh. “Are you ready to go? I kind of want to get out of here before Hooty catches wind at what’s going on” she gestures with her thumb towards the door behind them. Hooty is, thankfully, too asleep to have heard any of that conversation. 

For the briefest of seconds, Amity’s eyes go wide. “Right,” she says, and offers Eda’s staff back to Luz. Her eyes dart to the ground as her entire face begins to flush pink. “Well, where did you want to take me? You said no asking until I got here”

That’s right. Luz can feel her own blush burning into her cheeks. She’d completely forgotten it was supposed to be a surprise, and that this date was the date to determine all of their future dates going forward.

Luz clears her throat to clear her thoughts, and sits down on the staff to wake up Owlbert. 

“Hop on!” she tells Amity beside her, her voice cracking into oblivion. “You’ll know when we get there”

Amity giggles, but she complies, sitting behind Luz and wrapping her arms around her waist to keep herself steady.

...This is the end of her, Luz thinks, her face turning redder than apple blood. She’s dead. She’s dying. She’s no more.

But before Amity has the time to ask her what’s wrong or pull away, Luz takes off into the sky, perhaps a bit faster than she intended to. It takes a moment for their flight to steady, since she’d accidentally startled Owlbert from taking off too quickly, but once he’s calmed down it’s smooth sailing to their destination.

And even now that everything is all smooth and balanced, Amity still has her arms around Luz’s waist, which means that it has nothing to do with keeping herself steady at all, that Amity just genuinely wanted to sit that close to her and hold her throughout the entire duration of their flight, and hooo, boy, Luz isn’t quite sure her fragile little hopeless romantic heart can handle that information.

Focus, she tells herself. You’ve only got one shot at a first date, and everyone knows the first date is the most important.

She takes a deep breath in and slowly exhales to dispel her spiking nerves. 

“Look, Amity…” She starts, and though Amity does not move her arms from around her waist, Luz can feel Amity’s hair brush against her cheek as she sits up to meet her eyes. “I know that you’ve lived here your entire life, and I’ve only been here for a few months, and there’s probably not much here that I could show you that you haven’t already seen hundreds of times. And I know I keep talking about going home, and everything I like about living there, but...I think it’s only fair that I show you the reason I fell in love with this place, too”  she coughs, her blush returning to her cheeks again. “B-besides you, I mean” 

Amity’s entire face goes pink, and she buries it into Luz’s shoulder. “Luz…” she whimpers, so unlike the cool and collected Amity that walks the halls of Hexside, and somehow it has Luz’s heart flipping in her chest even more.

“I know it’s not much, but….” Luz gestures outward with an arm, and Amity finally finds the strength to pull away from her shoulder. Upon following Luz’s gestured arm with her gaze, a small gasp escapes her.

It’s the same view of the Boiling Isles that Eda had shown her on her first day on the Isles. It’s the entire view of the Titan’s skeleton, yes, and the lit homes of all the residents of Bonesborough, but most importantly it’s the sky. When Luz had been up here with Eda the sun was setting and Luz was sure that it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen, but tonight’s sky takes the cake (...again, besides Amity). Tonight the sky is clear as can be, twinkling with thousands of shining stars. There’s a distant galaxy streaking across the sky; not quite the Milky Way, but equally as beautiful, and, if Luz looks long enough, a few scattered shooting stars.

“Woah,” Amity gasps behind her, and tightens her grip around Luz’s waist ever so slightly. “It’s all so…” she pauses, her gaze shifting from the night sky to Luz, “...beautiful”

Luz squeaks. “You’re beautiful” she murmurs, burying her face into her hands once again.

Amity laughs at that, but if Luz unburies her face from her hands she’d see the blush permanently branded into her girlfriend’s face at the compliment.

For a few moments after, the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Amity’s arms remain where they are around Luz’s waist, and Luz does her best to lean backwards into her touch. They don’t move, and don’t focus on anything but the night sky and the quiet, gentle flapping of Owlbert’s tiny wings if they listen hard enough. 

It’s...peaceful. A dramatic shift in pace compared to the past week for sure, but it's a change that Luz is welcoming with open arms.

She’s about to close her eyes and let herself soak everything in when Amity speaks up again, nearly startling her out of her skin.

“Hey, actually…now that we’re alone, can I…ask you a question?”

Luz swallows. It must be crucial relationship business if whatever this is had to wait until they were on their date, as far away from other prying ears as they could possibly get. Trying her hardest not to let her nerves show, Luz carefully shifts on the staff so she’s sitting beside Amity rather than in front of her.

“Y-yeah! What’s up?”

Amity’s face goes pink and she starts nervously playing with her hair, like it’s killing her just to even think about asking whatever this crucial question is. Just as quickly as the blush appeared, though, she’s clearing her throat and patting her hair back into place, steeling herself for whatever Luz’s answer could be.

“Was...was the tunnel of love really Hooty’s idea, or were you just saying that because you were…” her blush appears, twice as red as it had been a moment ago. “...anxious about telling me how you felt?”

Luz is, once again, feeling like her face is on fire. “Ugh, I’m so sorry about all of that” she scrubs a hand down her face. “Hooty had this whole thing going on about insisting he needed to help people, and he must’ve gotten it in his head that he needed to help me with-”

She’s cut off by the sensation of Amity gently taking her free hand in her own, rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand with her thumb. “Sorry?” she giggles. “Why are you sorry?” 

Luz finally finds the strength to meet Amity’s eyes despite the blush burned into her cheeks. 

Her eyes are shining, which is just about the prettiest, most adorable thing Luz has ever seen, hands down.

“I mean, Hooty kidnapping me was…” she trails off, shuddering, “but...everything else? It was so cute, Luz. It was so much like you to make this grand old gesture for me. I was terrified just kissing you on the cheek the other night, and there you were, being so extravagantly...you” 

...She liked all of that? She didn’t think it was dumb, or embarrassing, or completely and utterly laughable??? She thought it was sweet?

It’s decided, Luz Noceda is officially the luckiest girl in the world. Nobody else in the entire Boiling Isles has better luck than her.

Luz sighs, and returns Amity’s gesture by taking her other hand in her own. “I guess...it’s because everyone back home thinks I’m too schmaltzy. Every time I talk about this new romance book I’d read, or this new fic I finished writing, or the proposal I was working on for this guy I wanted to ask to homecoming, they’d just...laugh at me, like there goes Luz again, doing too much for things that don’t matter that much. I’m so used to being shot down for being too much that I felt...scared” 

Amity snorts. “We waltzed together to defeat Grom, Luz. I don’t think you can get much schmaltzier than that. Besides…” she inches ever closer, planting a kiss on Luz’s cheek. “There’s no such thing as too much of you, Luz. If nobody back home saw that, then they didn’t deserve you”

A smile tugs at Luz’s lips. “More like I don’t deserve you, you big sap” she gives Amity’s cheek a kiss in return, and she beams at the sensation, adorably scrunching up her nose. The beam stays plastered on her face when Luz pulls away, and Amity gently touches the spot on her cheek where Luz had just kissed her. 

“Well, what about right now?” Amity asks, the shine returning to her eyes. “You’re not still feeling scared, are you?” 

The phrasing of her second question suddenly makes Luz very aware of how close they’re sitting to each other. Her heart starts pounding in her chest at the very real possibility that they are close enough to kiss, actually kiss, on the lips, if they so wanted to. 

“Yeah,” she answers honestly, but leans her head in closer to Amity to test the waters. Amity realizes what she’s doing pretty quickly, but shows no hesitation in meeting her halfway.

Luz can’t help the beam spreading across her own face as they pull away from their first kiss. “...but I think it’s the good kind of scared.”

[nine-hells-and-purrgatory]

Stolen Dance (Maeve/Azrael)

Hey everyone! This is the first fic we have for the crew! It is between Maeve and Azrael! You can check out both of their bios on our page if you know nothing about them. When Maeve needs a plus one for a Cabaretti dance, she decides to take one of her oldest friends. 

It was a slow day at the Broker’s main law office. Maeve stretched, her back protesting against the hours of filing contracts. She took a sip of lukewarm coffee, barely flinching at the feel of it sliding down her throat. There were more cases to process. More contracts to go over. More… 

She paused. She looked at the time. 

Ah. Fuck. 

The big ball. The very big, major ball between the Families. The one happening in… Maeve checked the clock. About 3 hours. 

Fuck. 

Maeve hurriedly shoved the papers she was working on into her desk and locked it with the key she kept around her neck. She was going to be late, even more than fashionably late, and she absolutely needed a plus one. At this very late hour. 

She knew she could probably ask Ru. Ru never really set up his plus ones, and mostly just showed up to parties like this, and found his plus one there. However, she would also get teased relentlessly for at least the next month if she asked him. But, thinking of Ru… 

That gave Maeve an idea. 

-time skip bc I’m a hack fanfic writer now apparently- 

Maeve took a deep breath, and waltzed into the room, putting on her best schmaltzy grin.

“Heyyyyy Az! How’s it going!” Maeve leaned across the desk, getting inches away from him, showing off her elaborate outfit in full.  

Azreal looked up at her. “Hello Maeve. Planning to go to the ball tonight?” 

Maeve faltered slightly at the obvious jab, but she supposed it was quite obvious what she was doing here. 

“I… was actually! And I was wondering… if you wanted to come? As my plus one?” Maeve did her best puppy dog eyes. 

Azreal matched her grin. “Well…” He drawled, dragging out the sentence as long as possible. “I’m not really doing anything tonight… so I guess so.” 

Maeve smirked “Well, at the very least, we’ll probably piss off Ru when he sees us walk in together.” 

Azreal smirks back, and that’s when Maeve knows he’s interested. 

-at the dance, again I’m still a hack writer-  

The dance is… fantastic. Maeve takes Azreal through a lazy waltz, letting him mostly lead and twirl her around. It’s been awhile since Maeve has just been in Azreal’s space, without any… ahem. Intentions. She’s almost forgotten how nice it is, to have his wings brush against her shoulder, to have him encircle her. He’s so much taller than her, and his eyes are always entrancing. She steps closer into him, and mentally gives herself a point for the excellent decision to put on expensive perfume as he clearly sniffs her neck. His clawed hand wraps around her back, and she drapes her arm across his shoulder as he dips her, and Maeve can feel her heart speed up. She also knows Azreal can probably hear it too. 

He pulls her up, into a close embrace, clearly enjoying this just as much as she is. He whispers into her ear. 

“So, you want to do something… criminal tonight?” he asks, eyes glittering with joy, and all Maeve can think is 

Oh. Oh I’m so fucked. 

-i can’t write a whole heist scene in 10 mins I just want the good character dynamics-

Maeve and Azreal fall out of the tiny closet they were squished in to hide from the security guards, the incredibly expensive painting they just stole tucked under Azreal’s arm, giggling like maniacs. 

“I… I can’t believe that worked. I thought we were so dead. I thought we were so fucked” Maeve snorted, stumbling into Azreal’s arm. Azreal himself is shaking with laughter, and they both have to lean on each other to continue standing up. Maeve attempts to muffle her shaky laughter into Azreal’s shoulder, but that just makes it more difficult to walk. 

They make it outside, just in time to get out before the host notices his missing painting and locks down the house to search for it. Maeve gives a jaunty wave to Ru, still stuck inside. He glares at her. She grins at him. 

Maeve and Azreal make it to the sidewalk and sit down on the curb as the adrenaline starts to wind down. It’s brisk, the wind dropping the temperature just enough that Maeve shivers. The moon is high in the sky, the night clear, and Maeve isn’t looking at any of it, because Azreal breaks out into laughter again, and she can’t help but be caught up in it. Their shoulders brush, and Maeve has a sudden urge to make this moment never end. She snuggles back into his shoulder, and his wing curls around her, and it is perfect. 

[marzipanandminutiae]

little things I want to do with a girl

wake up next to each other in an inn by the sea, with the sunlight dancing on the water and the waves whispering against the rocky shore

attend a ball together and share the last waltz of the night

but also be half of the power couple with the most gorgeous and  historically accurate outfits

work silently on projects in the same room, possibly watching some trashy show on Netflix

sit beside a bonfire at night, staring into the flames 

and probably also roast marshmallows

swap story ideas

banter. so much banter. complete with flirting and playful mutual roasting

cook for her

kiss her. so many times in so many different situations. 

go on actual dates that are more than just awkward Tinder first dates

specifically, spending the day getting lost in the MFA and then hitting up Amorino for hot chocolate would be excellent

be giant history geeks together, from antiquing to comparing notes on our archival research

celebrate with her when she achieves a personal goal

get her schmaltzy romantic gifts

do not test me, future girlfriend. I WILL bust out the (paste) D.E.A.R.E.S.T rings. the color combination is so tacky, but I’ll do it anyway. ye be warned

walk around arm-in-arm, or holding hands. I’ve never actually done that with a girl, unfortunately. it’s such a simple thing, but I’m 27 and I’ve never had the chance

[recitedemise]

"Oh!" Gale is impressed. Frankly, he hardly expected such a rousing demonstration of honeying monologues. Honeying, he repeats, and not at all honeyed, for drowning in the sweet dripped tender off that tongue, he can almost believe he's become Wyll's muse...! But Gale knows better. No, this is challenge. His tome, now shut, rests utterly forgotten. "I'm quite certain the Great Wizard of Waterdeep more than understands," he laughs, plotting down his move. "In fact, I imagine his own heart beats at the same tempo that would guide the mighty Blade of Avernus'. Were their very chests ballrooms both, they might have even shared waltzes."

That alike, huh? Eying Wyll as he works, their proud scholar thinks, well, in enough ways that matter. After all, more than any other pair, it has been them in agreement. From their leanings toward mercy and their tenant in compassion to their love for poems and twirling dance, their friends might think them disgustingly schmaltzy--but still, to their poems they wax and write.

"Then they've a dance partner in one another. I can't say I've half the daring you do to try your luck at our more... quarreling companions, but all the same, I can very much recognize the sincerity. You're an open book, Wyll," he offers not unkindly. "Some might call you impressionable to shiver to a gale, but I don't count myself among those moody some. To watch a man let himself be so swayed by the simplest delights... it's humbling, perhaps even enough to gladden the spirit. I argue that's the reason why the gale blows at all."

Ah! This feels a bit like lanceboard, doesn't it?!

Wyll's moved his pawn to king four. Gale's put his pawn to queen three.

"The mind and heart require as much practice as any other muscle. I refuse to let my tongue grow numb just because it's now a path forked in two. I refuse to let my soul wilt, unwatered, without poetry or music to shine like sunlight upon its soil, even if my soul is no longer mine to give. Though I will admit, I may have been a touch overeager with Lae'zel and Shadowheart.... my greatest weakness is beauty when it strikes me. I cannot dodge it, so entranced, and so my wit bends me backwards and all I can to do to brace for damage and hope my lips parry and voice carries true, and does not betray the pounding of my heart."

"I hope the Great Wizard of Waterdeep can understand. As I am no more immune to your charms than an acorn sapling, shivering, clinging to its naked branches in the face of a sweeping gale."

He lets out a teasing hum, idly rubs oil on to the skin graft around his horns. He had gone into that little soliloquy without so much as missing a beat. While Wyll has not spent much time with Academics in his adventures, Wyll had traded insults and tall tales and flirtations on every stop of his journey.

This is Wyll's way of accepting the challenge. A game, to pass the time. Who will out-bard the other, between child prodigies, poets, magicians? Wyll will not go down without a fight. He hasn't even started trying.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Sharp Spikes and Glamour - Fusion AU

Ao3,   MasterPost,   More of This AU

Relationships: Romantic Dukeceit, mentioned Romantic Royality and Analogical. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex/sexual innuendo, violence against inanimate objects, mentions of injury- for perspective this is Remus-centric, and he’s just like that. Also mild arguing, some self-deprecating thoughts. The Dukeceit fusion uses it/its pronouns (as do I, so no clowning). 

Word Count: 3,992

Remus let himself fall backwards onto the hardwood floor, huffing. A satisfying thump echoed through the empty room, but the dull pain at the base of his skull stopped him from slamming his head down again. If Remus kept tripping over himself when his body was in top condition, he probably wouldn’t do any better with a cracked open skull and shattered vertebrae all the way down his back (however fun that might be).

Schmaltzy music lingered in the room still, and with a snap Remus willed it into silence. Now, Remus hated silence, but in that moment it felt like a blessed mercy in the wake of fucking classical fucking ‘music’. He laid flat on the floor, enjoying the quiet and wallowing in his aching muscles. As disgusted as he was by the orchestral garbage, he liked the dancing that went along with it even less- maybe for the simple fact that he was so very bad at it. 

So, the big question was why he was doing this to himself. Why had he gone through the trouble of making a dance studio in his side of the Mindpalace? Why the hell was he using it to learn waltzes, rather than his usual style of fast-paced and very suggestive movement? 

The answer was simple enough: Janus.

Now, just a month ago, Remus could very confidently say that his and Janus’ relationship was perfect. And it still was, really, but back then he’d been safe in the knowledge that they were also as affectionate and intimate as they could be! Which is to say, very very intimate. Wink, wink, if you catch his meaning. That was the way he liked it; Remus didn’t want there to be a step he hadn’t taken in any situation, but especially a relationship like that!

But then, that month or so prior, a very weird and crazy and impossible and fucking awesome thing happened right in the middle of the goddamn living room, proving Remus unfortunately and/or fortunately wrong about his boyfriend. His brother and his best friend had fused. Like, actually, Roman and Patton had pulled some cartoon bullshit that none of them had ever known they could even do before!

Obviously Remus was floored; everything there was to know about his (and other people’s) physical forms, he knew it and he’d pushed it to the limit before! Except for now, with something he had somehow never found out about that his brother got to first. That was the kicker, that was what made it both shocking and anger-inducing. 

There was no question. Remus was going to learn to do that. 

So, here he was, trying to learn, but he was not good at like, actually dancing. Which would’ve been fine, if he was dating anyone other than Janus- the most elegant, classy, coordinated side of them all! And Remus knew, somewhere in his sick-and-twisted guts, that Janus deserved to have something special, something that wasn’t more fitting in a sleazy nightclub. He wanted to give him that, no matter how hard it was.

Which was much harder than he’d originally assumed, actually. Before Remus knew it, Virgil and Logan had also managed to form a fusion before he had even gotten the hang of a waltz. And those two hadn’t even danced to get it! Wasn’t that just cementing his confidence?

Remus shook his thoughts away with a frustrated growl. He sat up on his knees braced against the ground, scraping his talons down the shiny wooden floor of his horrible, horrible dance studio. He was gonna get this right, because if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a fucking quitter.

Swinging up to his feet, Remus pushed his hair back from his face and fixed it into a tangled mass of ponytail. He brought his arms down, and then back up again, shaking them wildly. When he deemed that job done, he kicked his legs out in much the same way. Seeing as he was the embodiment of energy, he never managed to get rid of all of it, but the wiggling definitely helped his focus. With a huff of finality, Remus settled, stared at nothing, and snapped his fingers. Shitty ballroom music filled the room again, and it took all of Remus’ effort to count his steps instead of willfully vomiting onto the floor.

But he did restrain himself, he kept his focus for once and propped his arms up on the empty air. Under his hold, the very absence of material wavered, shaping itself into something like a person. And so he laid his hands on that, in relatively respectful places, and began to lead the mannequin around the room in choppy movements. It matched him beat for beat, but it could not offer its own, organic responses like an actual dancing partner might- and that was by design.

It was boring, that was the real problem. How was he supposed to get invested if it was the same four movements, over and over! Each new attempt, he got maybe five minutes in before the fatigue hit, the need to do anything more interesting. What was just a couple of twirls, maybe a dip? Janus would still probably appreciate those additions anyway!

None of the flair attempts went well. He stumbled, hit the wall, tripped, all of it. By the end of twenty minutes Remus was waving the mannequin out of existence, feeling frustration pricking the corners of his eyes. What was he thinking, he wasn’t Roman, this was so stupid!

Remus straightened up (ha, ha) and spun around. He made his way to the corner of the room, fell into a crouch, and sunk his claws into the edges of the glossy wooden floor. Splinters bit his fingers, but he barely noticed them as he began to peel back the panels. They came free in a series of crunches and snaps, spitting shards of wood out and revealing the void beneath the ground. Remus held the chunks of flooring, feeling sharp edges digging into his palms, and he shredded them to pieces. When they weren’t much bigger than pencils, he let them fall into the newly made hole. Once done, Remus set his hands on the new edge, and he did it again. 

But, like almost everything he did, the destruction was loud. Shrieking, splitting, crunching kinds of loud. The kind of loud that didn’t go unnoticed. 

And the mindscape was as infinitely big as it was claustrophobically small.

Within minutes there was a sharp knock against the doorframe. Remus jolted upright, spitting out the hunks of plank that had one way or another found their way to his mouth. As he turned, he grinned manically, tucking his hands behind his back. 

Janus lifted a brow at him from across the room. The side stood with one hand propped on his hip, the other raised above his head so that he leaned on the doorway. His mouth was a thin, quietly concerned line, his eyes flicking around in tiny movements as he assessed the situation. 

“This is quite unlike the other rooms you've created,” He observed, clicking the back of his heel on the floor. Remus turned his gaze to the wall just above Janus’ shoulder, discreetly picking the splinters from his hands. In all honesty, this situation wasn’t unexpected- Janus was known to wander around in Remus’ new creations, whenever he wanted to catch his attention- but Remus had been under the impression that when that happened, he wouldn’t be right in the middle of tearing it all down. 

Which had clearly been a stupid assumption from the start, because he was. Himself.

“Hey, J.D.!” he chirped, scraping the last of the rubble from his fingertips, “Thought I might try out something new!”

Janus’ eyebrows arched up, a bemused smirk gracing his lips.

“An empty room?”

“Yeah, but obviously it got boring, so-” he gestured at the corner he’d torn into non-existence. “Time to get rid of it! It was probably a dumb idea, anyway.”

Even to his own ears, his cheery tone sounded forced. He threw in a gargled giggle to make up for it, but that came out even worse. Janus narrowed his eyes in that knowing way of his, then, and Remus knew he’d have to explain himself properly.

“Darling,” Janus slipped into the room with long strides, “What is so wrong that you’re using half-truths to talk to me?”

He wasn’t embarrassed that he’d been learning to dance- he was 99% sure he wasn’t able to feel shame (which was very sexy of him, in his opinion)- but he was upset that he was so disappointed at it. 

He didn’t need anyone’s approval… but he certainly wanted Janus’. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Remus’ statement rang with honesty. He met Deceit in the middle of the room, his smile challenging, only to be met with calm and patience. 

“I don’t care if it doesn’t ‘really’ matter. I just want to know why my partner was angrily devouring housing material in a brand-new corner of the mindscape.” 

“It’s not that weird, I’ve eaten a lot worse than plywood!” 

Janus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You’re clearly frustrated.”

“I’m frustrated all the time,” Remus argued, “There are so many stupid things to be frustrated about, you know that. It’s a very easy feeling to have, you get it without even noticing! Like, if it were an injury, it’d be a papercut; everyone has a papercut somewhere on their body most of the time.”

“What?”

“It’s an analogy, I think!”

Janus gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Remus felt a small bit of pride at how annoyed he looked, despite the uncomfortable situation he’d gotten himself into. 

“Whatever, if you’re really doing so well I suppose I should spare my worry and save us both the headache.”

“Exactly! See, just because I’m feeling a bit manic-panic doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you, scaleface.”

And that was his mistake. 

Janus stopped turning away as soon as he’d started, his mouth curving into a deep frown. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he almost seemed to be offended.

“You just lied.”

Remus, internally, screamed. He hadn’t even fuckin’ lied on purpose! That couldn’t be fair!

“So it is about me, then,” Janus went on slowly. “Are you angry with me?”

Remus blinked, falling untense oh-so quickly at what he now saw was Janus’ nervous face. 

“Wha- no! That’s not what this is about!” 

Janus only narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Remus grabbed the snake’s hands with his own scarred ones, pulling him near. He felt his hesitation leave as soon as it had arrived, replaced by his usual affinity for just spitting out whatever he had to say. It wouldn’t turn out any worse than having to see his baby hurt or worried. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise. For you.” 

The suspicion melted off of Janus' face in increments, leaving him with a confused little half-smile.

“For me?” He echoed, “What was it?’

Remus huffed, snapping his fingers. The lyricless music returned to the desecrated room, and he gestured around with both hands. 

“It didn’t really work out the way I planned, so,” he rolled his eyes and huffed. “I was teaching myself to dance all proper.”

Remus could basically see Janus’ thinking, and for some reason it was grating him. 

“You want to dance with me? Dear, you know you don’t need to give me traditional romantic gestures like that-”

“It was to fuse!” Remus blurted, “I wanted to fuse with you. Like, properly.”

Janus made a soft sound of realization, his eyes going wide. He was silent for a long moment, holding too-tight onto Remus’ hands. But he had yet to let go, which the creative trait counted as a good sign.

“Oh, Love,” he whispered at last, “You’re really serious.”

Remus would’ve winced, if not for the fact that Janus' face was split in a smile, open and sincere in a way that showed he'd really been caught off-guard. His face was warm, and he looked pleased for all the world. He wasn’t judgmental, then, only surprised.

“Um… yes? I wanna fuse with you?”

Janus shook his head musingly, laughing almost exasperatedly.

“No, no, I understood that bit, but-” he waved a hand at the barren room, smirk growing wider, “Ballroom dancing? You? Really?”

He had a point. The walls were a pristine white, shot through with neat marbled patterns. There were mirrors stretching the surface of either wall, reflecting onto each other with clean clarity. There was no clutter, no objects, nothing but the little box itself. And Remus felt no more frustration as he burst out laughing. He tipped his head back and cackled, tugging Janus’ arms until they were pressed together.

“I don’t know why I thought this would work!” He cackled.

“I never know why you think anything that you do,” Janus’s nose wrinkled as his own resolve cracked, leaving shrill giggling behind. Remus snorted, holding onto his partner just to keep himself upright.

“Sorry, Jay,” he almost wheezed, “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to fuse like this, I’m horrible at it.”

Janus’ giggles tapered to a stop sharply, turning to trills of confusion before cutting off completely. Remus met his eyes, and was surprised to find renewed concern. 

“Now, that’s entirely what I meant by that remark, you aren’t misinterpreting at all.”

Remus squinted at him, at the sudden spout of backwards talk.

“...What?” 

Janus scoffed.

“Of course I don’t want to fuse with you, it’s not like we’re in a committed relationship, or anything.”

Janus got very lie-ey when he was heated; the ferocity had Remus taken aback. 

“Soooo, you… do want to try it with me?”

Janus glared in a very duh-obviously--you-idiot kind of way. Remus might have been annoyed with his little tsundere, but the snake’s grumpy face edged just too much on the endearing side for it to spark any of that. It wasn’t too much of a shocking revelation, he supposed, but when he admitted to failing before it felt pretty final, in his opinion. 

“Uh, Okay! You have to lead, though, and I’m at least 60% sure it won’t work, because like I said I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Janus hummed in satisfaction, his grimace curving up into a smirk. 

“To start, we’ll need a change of scenery.”

Remus nodded agreeably. They couldn’t risk falling into the nothingness pit he’d made, after all- those were very difficult to get back out of and not a whole lot of fun in general. So when Janus held his hand out invitingly, Remus took it, letting the trait transport them to wherever he had in mind. 

But that place was no better than the destroyed dance studio at all. The room they ended up in was also very much destroyed, and cluttered, and generally very slimy. 

Remus’ room. From the corner of his eye, he saw Janus’ lips twitch in amusement. 

“Dear, let me explain,” he tilted his head back just so, making eye-contact with his boyfriend. “We’re going to fuse. It could be in here, for all I care, or somewhere bigger for our needs, but whatever it is most certainly will be a dancefloor. Because we’re not doing this your way.”

Remus made a startled chuckling noise, almost convincing himself that the doublespeak was somehow triplespeak- which just looped back around to ‘speak’, come to think of it. 

“You- that’s a really bad idea.”

Something teasing glinted in Janus’ eyes.

“Aren’t bad ideas your specialty?”

“Yes,” Remus ground his teeth together, “But not yours!”

“Your point?”

Remus breathed exhaled, loud and puffing, as he tried to explain. He wasn’t going to deny the excitement this was all bringing him, but it was hysterical, an almost negative side to enthusiasm. There were so many things that felt needed to be said. To be warned, before Janus made a horribly bad decision for himself.

“My point,” he managed, words heavy in his throat, “Is I don’t think about things, so one of us has to. I want to do this the right way, Jan, this is like the one thing I don’t want to fuck up.”

Janus narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching down.

“You think it won’t work this way.”

“You like doing things so fancy and dramatically!”

“You called it the ‘right way’,” it was hardly above a whisper, he looked surprised at his own words as he said them. Remus could only scoff.

“Well, yeah! If we do it how I would, then you probably won’t wanna be part of the creature that comes out of that!”

Janus’ pupils went from circles to slivers in no time at all, pain washing over his expression. Remus held his hands tighter and leaned in, ready to apologize for whatever he’d said to hurt him, but he couldn’t get a word in. 

“It’s going to end up more of you than me. That’s what you’re worried about.”

It wasn’t a question. Remus felt some of his usually infinite energy slip away from him. It left a hole behind. 

“I know you, baby,” he was tired, maybe desperate, “You won’t want that.”

“Why shouldn’t I want it?” Janus snapped suddenly, “I’ve already made it clear that I want you. Clearly I must find some of your qualities desirable, why else would I spend nearly all my time with you, around you, thinking of you?”

There was a fragile kind of quietness, broken only by Janus’ hitching breath. Remus found himself blinking and blinking, his eyes stinging like someone was pushing needles into his tear ducts, agonizingly slow. He pulled Janus to his chest, propping his chin on the side’s hat and shivering.

And Remus, to his own shock, had no words. He didn’t have much on his mind at all, knowing only that he felt so much in the moment, so much and so powerful and all serving to remind him why he loved Janus as much as he did.

He wanted to ask more questions, to make sure that Janus was as sure as he said he was, but he couldn’t. His snake was stubborn, would stick to his words no matter how much Remus badgered him, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He pressed a kiss to the top of Janus head, closed his eyes, and let the emotions wash over him. 

He breathed in, out, and suddenly the second wave hit him in the chest, his eyes forced open.

Or…

It. Its eyes were forced open. Yes, that sounded right.

It stood in the middle of a room- a familiar room, but certainly not Remus’. It was much bigger, the ceiling higher to accommodate the inhabitants height, and much more organized. There was still plenty of clutter, plenty of skulls and bones and preserved creatures, but all in neat little rows on pretty rustic shelves. The place had the distinct vibe of a house belonging to a very ominous, eccentric, wealthy old murderer. Perfect.

The new creature turned its attention to itself, stretching out its limbs curiously. All nine of them, it turned out; seven arms stacked on their torso, four on the left and three on the right, all of which ending in sharp talons covered by gloves. A wicked grin split its face, and it wasted barely a moment before dashing out of the new room and down the hall. It came to the bathroom door, threw it open, and leapt inside. Two hands gripping the basin, it peered at its reflection. Two piercing, yellow eyes peered back, the pupils mismatched in shape and size. Lime-green scales covered its face and neck in splotches, smooth and diamond-shaped.

As its gaze traveled downwards, it appreciated the too-wide mouth filled with dangerous fangs, those snake-like slits up both sides of the face. Its hair was kept pinned back from its face, partially hidden beneath a black, metal crown. It was clearly messy- probably greasy- colored very dark with shocks of silver running through.

The collar of its shirt rose to nearly past its jaw, then plunged down to reveal a lot more of its chest than necessary. Its clothes were almost entirely black, broken up by the lemon/lime embellishments travelling up its arms and around the clasps in the front. The overcoat had long coattails and striped sleeves, ending in cuffs of fabric about the wrists. Moving lower it had very tight pants that did not leave much to the imagination, and boots that were more than a little over-the-top. Finally, there was the cape, hung around its shoulders and reaching floor length. It billowed when it moved even as much as an inch, looking at first like more black. Then the material caught the light, showing a dazzling display of green and yellow, glittering like a perfectly formed geode. 

A laugh sprouted from it, giddy and exuberant. It twirled in the small space, its many hands twisting and toying with its outfit, hair, anything it could reach. From its hazy mind came then came its first intelligible thought, just from its appearance: it was called Rennet.

It stilled, hands hovering in scattered positions. The sharp laughs were quieting, but it still shook like it was laughing. Just shaking in general, probably. The worries of its more excitable half weren’t all gone, not that easily, and it knew it wasn’t yet stable. 

Rennet took a breath, but its head didn’t clear, if anything it grew fuzzier. It was two creatures, two creatures that spent hours and hours inside their own heads as it was, and now both of those over-stuffed brains were in one too-small skull. It could almost feel the weight, leaning heavily on the wall just to keep upright. 

“Should we stop?” Rennet verbalized the question in a thickly accented voice, knowing that otherwise it would never be able to understand the words through the mess of its mind. 

“I don’t know,” it’s tone dropped in pitch, the sharp edges smoother, “Is that what you want?”

But it had barely gotten a chance to be. It couldn’t give up already. 

So what was wrong with it?

“Oh, I don’t know. Everything?” Rennet threw its head back, because of course the worst thought was the only one that ended up audible. It sighed, dragged a hand down its face, shook its head. “Just remember the saying- two wrongs don’t make a right!”

Rennet’s mouth shut with a snap, and it felt quite angry with itself. On behalf of itself. It wasn’t sure, really- the indignation was much like something felt when a loved one was insulted, not when one’s self was insulted. That somehow made the sting worse. 

“You think you’re wrong?” It said in a whisper, clutching its own wrists tight. Rennet knew the answer, though, knew it as it was ingrained into them.

And with that, its resolve sharpened. It was not going to come apart so easily, it would not accept either bits of it thinking anything so bad about himself, and…

Rennet was going to be the sexiest, baddest bitch the Mindpalace had ever seen. That was for damn certain. 

It stood straight up, clapping three pairs of hands together and snapping its fingers with the seventh. It had to bear in mind that it was, for the time being, a giant sparkly monster babe. Now, being sad under those conditions just wouldn’t make any sense, and it intended to keep that thought at the forefront of its newly formed mind. Because Rennet was smart, it’d certainly retained that part of Janus, and it was peppy, if Remus had any part in it at all. 

And, it mused, as it walked through the hall and down into the living room- it was undoubtedly very mischievous.

Taglist: @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[the1959project]

September 2, 1959

Sarah Vaughan records for the first time with Belford C. Hendricks’ orchestra in Los Angeles. 

She’d just signed a new contract with Roulette in July, but was still tied to Mercury until April 1960. Naturally, the label pressed her for one last album, perhaps hoping to capitalize on the surprise success of “Broken Hearted Melody.” Vaughan had turned the jaunty pop tune into a distinctive, rich single that peaked at no. 7 on the Hot 100 on September 7, 1959 — it’s a great example of the way she infused jazz phrasing into even her poppiest cuts. Vaughan, for her part, never minced words about her biggest hit. From Elaine M. Hayes’ biography, Queen of Bebop: The Musical Lives of Sarah Vaughan:

“God, I hated it. I did that in the ’50s and everybody loves that tune. It’s the corniest thing I ever did,” Vaughan explained years later. “They still ask for it and it drives me nuts.”

At this session, Vaughan recorded the irresistible cha cha “Smooth Operator” and schmaltzy waltz “Eternally,” which both also had reasonable success on the charts, reaching no. 41 and 44 on the Hot 100 respectively. 

For the first time, the singer was a bona fide hitmaker as well as a beloved jazz star — but it wasn’t what she had wanted as much as it was what her record label had wanted, and also came as a new marriage to Clyde B. Atkins was quickly turning sour. He was abusive and controlling, both traits made even worse by the fact that he was her manager as well as her partner. 

Also from Hayes’ biography, in a section where she’s describing Vaughan’s resistance to performing the song live:

“Okay, okay, okay, we’ll try it,” Vaughan finally said to the young couple determined to hear “Broken-Hearted Melody” that night in Washington, D.C. Longtime friend Robert Richards was surprised by what happened next. “She did a funny run through of it and it was fine and the audience loved it,” he reminisced. “And after she was through with it, she sat kind of in a very pensive way, and she said, ‘You know, did you ever leave home like on a Tuesday night, and you’re just going to go out and hear some music and have a drink somewhere and somehow or another you don’t get back home for two days?’ And the audience is like ‘What?’ and she was very thoughtful about this and she said, ‘Have you ever had that experience?’ and the couple [replied,] ‘No, no.’ And she said, ‘Well that’s what “Broken-Hearted Melody” is to me.’”

It was an unusually candid, revealing moment; a dramatic contrast to her customary lighthearted, humorous banter; and a striking comparison. She likened singing “Broken-Hearted Melody” to a bender, losing control as events cascade around you. When you finally do emerge from the haze, days, months, or even years later, you realize that that was neither who you are nor who you want to be. For Vaughan, “Broken-Hearted Melody” brought back memories and experiences that she preferred to forget. It had come to symbolize hard times, difficult years in both her personal and professional lives.

Below are more songs she recorded at this session with Hendricks — they were eventually released on Close To You and My Heart Sings. For the most part they rely on the gaudy strings and choral accompaniment that often sounds dated to the contemporary ear. Vaughan, though, is as flawless as ever, elevating the cliched backdrop with her self-assured, pitch-perfect interpretations. It’s still funny how the very thing that the arrangers of the time thought was classing up the joint — stiff, ornate string arrangements — wound up sounding so much more dated than the jazzier small ensemble stuff. 

The rest are “Maybe It’s Because (I Love You Too Much,” “Our Waltz,” “Never In A Million Years” and “Close To You.”

[squarebracket-trickster]

ahhhh! Salvi harps are so sexy aren't they! My teacher has one (not sure which model) that she plays with our city's symphony.

I've played for around 14 years but I started when I was really young (just about to turn eight) and I am not pursuing it professionally. It has and, I think, always will be just a hobby for me. That being said, I have played my share of weddings, retirement homes, and garden tours. I also played in a harp ensemble with between 3-6 harps total for about three years (until the pandemic happened and then we all went to uni in different provinces). I started learning in the folk harp tradition and I still consider that my primary area, but I did get classical training when I was a teenager. I have four harps, a black Aoyama Etude 46 named Godzilla (which has wheels, not to flex or anything), a Triplet Harps Catalina 34 (also known as Princess Catalina for being high maintenance), a Triplet Harps Christina 26 named Tacky, and a Harpsicle named Eska (short for Escargot) which I take to the beach to play. I used to have a Dusty Strings Ravenna 26 and I miss that lil' guy. I also rented a Lyon and Healy (I'm not sure the model I can't seem to find it on the website lol) 46 string for about a year before I got my Aoyama.

On pedal harp, my favourite genres are anything schmaltzy and I have been dabbling in jazz and Viennese waltzes. So if I had to pick an era, I'd say golden age of Hollywood film scores. On lever harp, I play mostly Irish and Scottish folk music with some Canadian fiddle tunes (Quebec, Prairies, BC; some French-Canadian and Métis, some Irish-Canadian, and some Ukrainian Canadian). Though I think my favourite harp composer is Deborah Henson-Conant; Nataliana is such a MOOD piece and anytime someone says," oh! harps are so angelic and relaxing!" I play the opening bars to Baroque Flamenco to spite them. In terms of listening on Spotify, Maeve Gilchrist does some amazing stuff. She is an Edinburgh folk harpist living in Boston and her music is a fascinating cross between Scottish folk and American Country music and it works somehow. I was lucky enough to do a week-long workshop with her a few years ago.

My only orchestra experience was playing with my high school's pit band for our musical production of Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, but I have to say, you and I are the exact opposites. Maybe because I have mostly been a solo performer, but I live for solos.

Okay, I gotta do this. Wanna gush about harps with me?

You mention orchestra so I assume you play pedal harp. How many harps do you own? What are they (Lyon & Healy, Aoyama etc.) & how many strings (I'm assuming at least one of yours is 46 or 47)? A lot of pedal harp players start on lever harp but barely touch it after they transition to pedal so do you still play lever harp in addition to your pedal harp--or some other kind of harp (wire-strung, Paraguayan, electric etc.)--or are you a strict classical pedal harp player?

Do your harps have names?

Do you mostly just play in orchestra or do you also play solo? Who are your favourite composers for harp and do you listen to any harpists on Spotify? What are your favourite genres/styles to play?

Omg I'm ALWAYS down. So yeah! I have a pedal harp, but I just got a lever harp as well just for fun lol. My pedal harp is a Lyon and Healy Style 100 Semi Grand built in 1973, and I named her Penelope Antonia♡ She is my greatest love. I have not named the lever harp yet. It is a Camac Isolde. I am planning on buying a proper concert grand soon, though. I'll be getting a Salvi Minerva. The Minerva will be my sixth harp that ive bought in my seven years of playinggg 😶 I started on lever but kept selling them as I moved up in skill and everything so now my sights are set on mastering ✨️both✨️. (I'm realizing how chaotic my answering is gonna be 😂). I was strictly classical, but now that I'm working with musicology more and am planning a career that isn't orchestra centric, I feel more able to do whatever I want. Right now, I'm still doing a lot of orchestral work, and I don't solo a lot which is 100% fine by me. I'm not a huge fan of soloing tbh. But when I do I LOVEEEEEEEE playing impressionistic or romantic pieces. The 19th and early 20th centuries are MY TIME (for music). Omg i love meeting other harpists you gotta tell me about your harps now PLS

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 218: Ed Longo & Applied Arts Ensemble

The newest release on Early Sounds Recordings comes courtesy of Ed Longo & Applied Arts Ensemble. Working across Germany, Switzerland, and Italy during 2017 and 2018, Ed Longo jammed with and recorded a host of adventurous musicians from diverse backgrounds, resulting in his debut LP The Other Fantasy. Conceptually, the record ruminates on the mental chaos of the internet age, concepts of Otherness within the collective consciousness, and our existence in a “continuous state of augmented reality, in which any concept of location, provenance, space and time fades into the ready-made world of escapist fantasies”...cerebral ideas given visual form by Riccardo Corda’s enigmatic art layout. Musically, the record feels right at home within the Early Sounds universe, as kaleidoscopic fusion jams and seaside funk journeys overflow with dazzling woodwind flights, tropical marimba cascades, scatting guitars, liquid slap bass fantasias, exotic live drum panoramas, gemstone Rhodes chords, sleepy synth orchestrations, sexual solos, heady electro-rhythms, and breathtaking vocal performances that sweep the spirit towards fantasy future lands. There are also a couple of blissed out ambient pieces closing each side, with Ed and his cohorts floating down etheric rivers of new age light and exploring sci-fi cityscapes, Blade Runner sax expanses, and noir jazz spirituals.

Ed Longo & Applied Art Ensemble - The Other Fantasy (Early Sounds Recordings, 2019) In “Love On the Line,” the energetic drums of Fabio Giannotti intertwine with electro-cymbal bells and golden hued tambourines. Domenico Andria’s slap bass pushes huge columns of air with its sorcerous funk movements while echo-smothered Rhodes flows, riffing guitars, and wavering cosmic synths background Daniele Lacava’s springtide flute adventures. The acoustic piano of Joel Holmes flows through the mix with dashing atonal runs and rainfall chordscapes before giving way to a wiggling synth solo that sets the air afire. At some point, we transition into a super hip vocal passage as cooing feminine voices and sultry whispers from Manon Girault and Zoé Perko fly over a sunset fusion jam out. Flanged bass explorations sit aside Floydian psychfunk riffs as Daniele alights on further flute solos, all while starshine synths and sci-fi squelches work against explosive drum fills and sizzling hi-hat patterns…everything eventually giving way to a coda of wavering keys, fluttering woodwinds, and pianos dancing on sea blue wave crests. “Arcadian Dream” follows with some of the softest textures to appear across the Early Sounds catalog. Seabirds converse above atmospheres of ocean romanticism and new age clouds billow in alongside acoustic guitar wanderings. Fabio Giannotti now appears on marimba and dances through the sea foam haze with crystalline note trails and gemstone fairy melodies and Nicola Galgari’s lush saxophone layers float amidst heavenly organ swirls…the whole thing evoking Finis Africae and Ariel Kalma as it transports the listener to a mystical forest of light.

“New Life” revels in lush romance vibrations while glassy Rhodes pianos flow above Steven Boreham’s liquid bass grooves and Ivan Ciccarelli’s midnight breakbeats. Congas enter and echoriffing guitars bubble up from underwater depths as celestial string orchestrations hover in the starry sky. Delicious g-funk slides bring it all together for a sensual glide through an equatorial paradise, with scatting synths transitioning into slow motion chime arpeggiations. The interplay between the bass and Tatum Rush’s guitar is pure intoxication, with interlocking riff webs and fiery funk accents playing off of rainbow keyboard atmospheres. Blistering fusion synths trade of solos with LSD-morphed e-pianos while gaseous strings move through the mix and at some point, soft outerspace vapors fly untethered above airy island rhythms. Then, a spellbinding Rhodes descent flutters over Ivan’s anthemic tom fills as we glide back into the sexual funk paradise, now drifting along on sea breeze vibrations and tropical palm frond flutters while Cristiano Pomante waltzes in with an ultra-cool marimba solo…the kind of thing that might waft through Haruomi Hosono’s Paraiso, full as it is of beachside jazz strolls and sunbeam solo dances. And the vibe is pushed even further towards exotic AOR perfection as Björn Magnusson melts over the mix with a radiant guitar solo built from smooth harmonizing descents and swooning sunset slides, even working at times into David Gilmore-esque psych blues screams that are tracked perfectly by the west coast hip-hop slides.

Dub claps refract in “A Palm in the Closet” while euphoric melodies of ocean glass flow forth from Joel Holmes’ Rhodes. Stuttering beats and morphing timbales underly guitar riffs swinging through starsea ripple worlds and Domenico Andria returns with more jaw-dropping slap bass fluidity…that same kind of mesmeric funk bass mastery that he delivered on Pellegrino’s Zodyaco…just pure 70s magic right down to the hot and biting production. Daniele Lacava’s ethereal flutes move between longform dream melodies and city-funk scats and are backed by wigged out theremin synths and hollow square-wave leads, all while Tatum Rush’s jangling guitars effervesce through colorful echolayers. As well, Tatum drops dreamy 90s R&B vocals over the exotic 70s lounge grooves while glistening piano adventures and schmaltzy flights move through the bewildering background fx layers. Closer “Trouble in Paradise” features dopamine cymbal taps and guttural bass guitar drones from Steven Boreham…the recording so deep and physical…as if you can hear the dust popping off of the roundwound strings. Nicola Galgari’s noir-soaked saxophones melt over oceanic Rhodes tapestries and once again the recording is very intimate, showcasing the sounds of warm breath flowing  over reeds. Beneath everything moves a euphoric haze of vibrato hallucinations and tremolo motions and there are vibes of Bohren and Der Club of Gore, Angelo Badalamenti, and John Coltrane at his most narcotic as the song develops into midnight heroin jazz for a sci-fi futureworld, one colored by haunted synth gases and dreamclouds of dark magic.

(images from my personal copy)

[xkuja]

What is a typical day for Kuja?

Typically leisurely. Unless he’s in the midst of some sort of scheme, he will waste his entire day on tea parties, waltzing around the theatre, chatting to boring nobles about boring noble things and reading schmaltzy novels.

He has no responsibilities in his life.

[pinkiepiebones]

Prompt: Copia and Special talking about love

Special watched his human friend. The human friend was Bishop Copia. The human year was 1986. Copia was unpacking his latest haul of clothing and records from his latest “mission trip.” Copia felt it was the mark of a good spokesperson when he came home with an empty pamphlet bag and a full suitcase.

Special, like all his siblings, was cloaked in black, his face a smooth black expanse with eyes, wide and twinkling. His horns were short and chipped, but presentable. He picked up the topmost record from Copia’s haul as Copia carefully put away a leather jacket in his closet.

“What’s a Top Gun?”

The bishop turned and shrugged. “I think it’s a movie, some American trash. The record store gave the that LP for free because I purchased so many EPs.” He started putting the other records in his prized record vault. “Give it a play if you want, I don’t think I’ll keep it.”

Special took a few steps from Copia’s cluttered but organized desk to the esteemed record player set up in the corner of Copia’s little room. The two agreed that positioning it there offered the best accoustics the small room had to offer.

“’Danger Zone’? That sounds bad. Eh, what is the B-Side...”

Special set the record on and started the player. The bishop’s room was filled with slow, schmaltzy pop. Special jumped up and said excitedly “aha! Time for a dance lesson!”

🎶Watching every motionIn my foolish lover's gameOn this endless oceanFinally lovers know no shame🎶

Copia sighed and shuffled over to his ghoulish friend. The bishop asked as Special pulled him into the still-not-quite-familar embrace of a waltz, “What’s this song called?”

🎶Turning and returningTo some secret place insideWatching in slow motionAs you turn around and say🎶

“Take my Breath Away.”

“Sounds as bad as Danger Zone.”

Special clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Naah, it’s a love song. Everyone can rock to a love song. It’s a universal feeling.”

🎶Watching i keep waitingStill anticipating loveNever hesitatingTo become the fated ones🎶

“Is it so universal,” Copia murmured. Special tilted his head. The two friends swayed in the tiny space as Berlin filled the room.

“You ever been in love, Cope?”

🎶Turning and returningTo some secret place insideWatching in slow motionAs you turn around and say🎶

Copia shook his head. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I mean, there are many beautiful people around the church, and beyond it, but..” He sighed and broke off the dance. “My own mother didn’t love me. How could I expect to find anyone else who would.”

🎶Take my breath away...🎶

Special stopped the record and situated himself on Copia’s bed, next to the sulking bishop. “Man, your mom did you wrong. But peoples love you! Sister Imperator is practically your mom as far as anyone’s concerned. A lotta the teenagey Sisters find your sideburns, like, so totally cute, and that’s a direct quote.” He put a hand on Copia’s.

“And I love you.”

Copia’s eyss went big. He looked at the blank face of his friend, searching the twinkling eyes. “You’re screwing with me.” Special chuckled and squeezed the bishop’s hand.

“No, no! I love you, man! I think I do. Ghouls have that capacity. We don’t like to feel it, ‘cause we live longer than y’all...” He pulled his bewildered human friend into a hug. “I hope my love’ll infect you and you can know for sure if you’ve  felt it before. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had an’ I love you.”

“Special.”

“Shhhh, don’t kill the moment.”

“Special my skin’s burning.”

“Just a few more seconds of hugging...”

[chiseler]

TIN PAN ALIAS

They're no longer the household names they once were. In fact their names were not really their names. But between them Harry and Albert Von Tilzer were two of the more successful and prolific songwriters and publishers on Tin Pan Alley, and many of their songs are familiar today as icons of the so-called Gay Nineties and early 1900s. One of them still gets played every day there's a baseball game.

Harry and his brothers were not born Von Tilzers. Harry was born Aaron Gumbinsky or Gummblinsky to Polish Jewish immigrants in Detroit in 1872. He grew up in Indianapolis, where the brothers were all born. The family shortened the name to Gumm, leading to the often-repeated misinformation that Frances Gumm, better known as Judy Garland, was Harry's niece. In fact, her father Frank Gumm was not one of the Gumbinsky/Gumm/Von Tilzer brothers, but a cracker from Tennessee (and predominantly homosexual, interesting when you consider Garland's complex personal and professional relationships with gay men later, not to mention Liza's).

At fourteen Harry Gumm ran away to join the Cole Brothers Circus. He played piano and wrote songs for a traveling theater troupe and changed his name on the road, taking his mother's maiden name and adding the Von for a touch of class. His brothers, all of whom went into the music business after him, followed suit. Making for more confusion, in 1929 a Helen Von Tilzer would marry one of the Marx Brothers -- Gummo, of course. Because of that preposterous-seeming coincidence she's often written up as Harry's sister, but in fact she was born Helen Theaman in New York. Von Tilzer was her first husband's name, and he seems to have been a real Von Tilzer, also not related to Harry and the fake Von Tilzer clan.

Harry worked in burlesque, with medicine shows and in vaudeville, specializing, naturally, in "Dutch" (German) routines. In 1892 he arrived in New York City by train as a groom for a carload of horses. He had one dollar and sixty-five cents in his pocket. For the next six years he struggled, playing saloon piano and writing songs that Tony Pastor and others bought from him at two bucks each.

According to David A. Jansen's Tin Pan Alley: An Encyclopedia of the Golden Age of American Song, Harry wrote his first hit under some duress. He and lyricist Andrew B. Sterling were sharing a furnished room on East Fifteenth Street in 1898 and were "three weeks behind on their rent. When a final bill was slipped under their door, they used the paper to write a chorus and then a verse of what turned out to be their first successful publication, 'My Old New Hampshire Home.'" It was classic barbershop quartet treacle. William Dunn of the Orphean Music publishing company paid them fifteen dollars for it -- a week's rent on the room -- and proceeded to sell more than a million copies in sheet music.

Then Dunn was bought out by Louis Bernstein and Maurice Shapiro, founders of one of Tin Pan Alley's longest-lived hit factories -- it still exists as Shapiro Bernstein & Co., with a catalogue that includes "Ring of Fire," "Yes! We Have No Bananas," "Walk on the Wild Side" (the original, not Lou Reed's song) and the immortal "Wolverton Mountain." They paid Von Tilzer four thousand dollars, a considerable sum in those days, to join them as a partner in the firm. A few years later he would leave them and start his own publishing company.

In 1900 he was relaxing in a whorehouse (or just at a party, depending on the source), noodling on the piano to some lyrics handed him by the British lyricist Arthur Lamb. When Harry saw the girls around him crying, he figured he'd noodled up a smash hit. It was. "A Bird in a Gilded Cage" sold more than two million copies of sheet music, and was one of the most popular weepers of the age, a song we still associate more than maybe any other with late Victorian mawkishness. This time Harry earned far more than fifteen bucks.

He and Lamb collaborated on two more tearjerkers in 1902, "The Banquet in Misery Hall" and the equally lugubrious "The Mansion of Aching Hearts," which a few singers made into hit recordings. That same year a scrawny Jewish kid from the Lower East Side went busking in the saloons on the Bowery, belting out "Mansion" in a raspy tenor to the pie-eyed sailors and hookers who tossed pennies at him. That kid, Izzy Baline, went up to Tin Pan Alley on Twenty-Eighth Street to meet Von Tilzer, who hired him as a song plugger and "boomer." A boomer was a plant in the audience at the music hall or vaudeville house whose job was to cheer and shout "Encore!" when the publisher's new song was performed. Von Tilzer, who was an expert plugger and boomer himself, showed Izzy the ropes. Izzy, who would invent his own German-sounding professional name, Irving Berlin, went on to eclipse his mentor's fame.

But Von Tilzer was no slouch. "Wait 'Til the Sun Shines, Nellie," "I Want a Girl (Just Like the Girl Who Married Dear Old Dad)," "In the Sweet Bye and Bye" and "I Love My Wife, But Oh You Kid!" were all major hits, and he wrote thousands more. That was not unusual. In the crowded Tin Pan Alley milieu, where publishing companies were stacked four and five stories high door-to-door, the competition was brutal, the pace ferocious and the ruling business model crudely simple: Throw as many songs at the public as you can possibly churn out, and hope one sticks once in a while. The lists of songs published on Tin Pan Alley in its glory years, roughly the 1880s through the 1920s, are stupefyingly long -- tens of thousands of songs, hurled at the public in live performances, as sheet music and piano rolls, on recorded wax cylinders, in early versions of coin-operated jukeboxes, on phonograph discs after the introduction of the affordable Victrola in 1906, and eventually on radio. Almost all of those tens of thousands of songs are forgotten now. In fact the vast majority barely made an impression when they were new. You just kept cranking them out, praying for a hit now and again.

Von Tilzer was out there pitching with the best of them. Like all serious Tin Pan Alley composers he jumped on every band wagon that rolled down Twenty-Eighth Street. He wrote Irish and "Dutch" numbers when they were fads, beer-drinking songs when they came into fashion (including one called "Under the Anheuser Busch"), schmaltzy kiddie songs, and songs capitalizing on every new dance craze, from the bunny hug to the turkey trot to the hesitation waltz. He threw three of them together in one song, "You Can Tango You Can Trot Dear but Be Sure and Hesitate." He wrote novelty songs like "The Ragtime Goblin Man" and topical ones like "Old King Tut," a hit for Sophie Tucker the year after Tut's tomb was discovered in 1922.

He also wrote several hit coon songs. Coon songs spun off from minstrel shows in the 1880s. In the 1890s and 1900s hundreds and hundreds of songs with "coon" in the title were published, usually sung to ragtime tunes. They often replaced the Old Plantation nostalgia of the traditional minstrel song with ruder, more overtly racist stereotypes. They were hugely popular, and Von Tilzer wrote his share, songs like "Alexander" (familiar to audiences then as a hifalutin' name for a blackface minstrel character), "Mammy's Kinky-Headed Coon," "My Lady Hottentot" and "Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown." Performers of old-timey music still record that one, though it may be best known for the 1970 funk version by the great Rufus ("Do the Funky Chicken") Thomas. In 1911, Berlin would upstage Von Tilzer's "Alexander" with his own ragtime-y coon song, "Alexander's Ragtime Band." Any similarity to his mentor's hit was purely intentional.

By the middle of the 1920s Von Tilzer had composed something like two thousand published songs, including a dozen million-sellers and as many as a hundred that sold half a million. His output slowed down in the later 1920s and 1930s, but he still credibly claimed to have written some eight thousand tunes. Like many Tin Pan Alley greats, including Berlin, he did it without ever learning to read or write a note of music.

Time and tastes moved on. Harry quietly lived out his last years in the Hotel Woodward, a Broadway establishment favored by show folk, and died there in 1946.

Meanwhile, Harry had brought Albert and the other brothers to New York. Jules worked for Harry. Will started a song publishing company, and Albert and Jack partnered in another. Albert was also a songwriter. He and vaudevillian Jack Norworth collaborated on the giant "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" in 1908; according to an unconfirmed but persistent legend, Albert never actually saw a ball game until the late 1920s. Some of Albert's other hits include "Put Your Arms Around Me, Honey," "I'll Be With You in Apple Blossom Time," the minstrel song "Down Where the Swanee River Flows" (a hit for Al Jolson in blackface), the Prohibition lament "The Alcoholic Blues" ("No more beer my heart to cheer/ Goodbye whiskey, you used to make me frisky/ So long highball, so long gin/ Oh, tell me when you comin' back agin"), the Hawaiian-themed ragtime hit "Oh, How She Could Yacki Hacki Wicki Wacki Woo," and another novelty hit, the zany bum-diddy-bum jungle number "Oh By Jingo!" with lyrics by Lew Brown. ("We will build for you a hut/ You will be our favorite nut/ We will have a lot of Oh By Gollies/ And we'll put them in the Follies.") Born Louis Brownstein in Odessa, Brown had fled the pogroms with his family and settled in the Bronx. In a long career he collaborated with many Tin Pan Alley and Broadway composers on classics like "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries," "You're the Cream in My Coffee," "Sunny Side Up" and "That Old Feeling." It was guys like Brown, the Von Tilzers and Berlin whom the rabid anti-Semite Henry Ford had in mind when he ranted, "The people are fed from day to day on the moron suggestiveness that flows in a slimy flood out of 'Tin Pan Alley,' the head factory of filth in New York which is populated by the 'Abies,' the 'Izzies,' and the 'Moes'..." Ignoring him, lots of people recorded the moron suggestiveness of "Oh By Jingo!" -- Danny Kaye, Spike Jones, Stephane Grappelli and Chet Atkins among them.

Following the addition of sound to commercial movies, the studios lured more and more of the music business out to Hollywood in the 1930s. After all, the first hit talkie, The Jazz Singer, was really a singie. Albert went too. He worked in film and tv, mostly contributing to soundtracks of now obscure pictures. He died in L.A. in 1956. By that point much of the Von Tilzer catalogue, especially the older and mushier songs, had faded away, except at ball games. Then in 1958 Lawrence Welk, than whom no one loved old-fashioned schmaltz more, bought the catalogue and engineered a Von Tilzer revival. When the Songwriters Hall of Fame began in 1969, Harry and Albert were among the first voted in.

by John Strausbaugh

[thesinglesjukebox]

KELSEA BALLERINI - I HATE LOVE SONGS

[5.25]

But judging by our sidebar, we like love songs quite a bit...

Thomas Inskeep: I like Kelsea Ballerini more and more as her career keeps rolling on. This stately midtempo waltz with a clever lyrical conceit (which you'll figure out pretty quickly nonetheless) is smack dab in her sweet spot, youthful yet classic-sounding. I can hear someone like Loretta Lynn singing this 45 years ago, and what's that if not a great sign? [8]

Alex Clifton: This isn't the first take on the "bah humbug romance" genre I have ever heard, but it is one of the better ones. Ballerini has an ear for lyrical detail that helps her stand out from the generic country girl lineup, and also has the charisma to match. (The Ryan Gosling lyric is the one line that sold me on it, mostly because I too feel that.) Were it anyone else I'd hate the twist of "I hate love songs, but I love you"; however, in Ballerini's capable hands, I like it very much. [6]

Alfred Soto: Gosling/frosting is a decent half rhyme; even better is the throwaway "We were drunk when we met/That's why I don't know our anniversary." The singsong verse melodies impose a songwriting manual roteness. Knowing that Kelsea Ballerini has sung her share of love songs crimps the intended humor. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: If you're going to spend your verses shit-talking the concept of love songs, you probably should write a better one in the rest of your song. [3]

John Seroff: The obvious knock is that if you hate the sappy clichés of love songs, why make one that catalogues the worst of them into a forgettable junior prom slow dance? The greater sin to my ears is the crime of attempting a presumed "anti-love song love song" that instead presents as an ironic "love song." Why not just serve me wedding cake made with Sweet'N Low on our first date? [2]

Stephen Eisermann: You see the twist a mile away, but this schmaltzy, sugary-sweet ballad is just endearing enough to work. Kelsea does an excellent job selling the track with her vocals, and the production isn't too heavy to drown out her voice, so it's easy to get lost in the romance of the track. [7]

Ramzi Awn: The ramshackle production on "I Hate Love Songs" is on point, and the guitars drive it home. Kelsea's voice is rousing enough, and her "no butterflies" approach to love is exemplified by the line "roses just die in a week." But the chorus falls short, and the song sounds more like a single from a movie about country music than a single released in 2018. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Meghan Trainor was a Nashville songwriter, remember, and if she somehow escaped thinkpiecification and Remember-The-2000sization, she'd probably still be recording doo-wop tracks like this. It's a bit too obviously a piece of songwriting -- the rhymes click dutifully into place, the images are flipped with writing-exercise neatness. Besides the tossed-off Ryan Gosling namedrop, it's more interested in romance as a stock concept than actual romantic expectations in 2018, which'd make for riskier songwriting. And worse, the old-fashioned goody-goody arrangement does to Kelsea Ballerini's voice and charm what "Space Cowboy" did to Kacey Musgraves. (The "we were drunk when we met" line is the best one, both because it busts the formula and because it's the only place Ballerini sounds animated.) But at least she's trying, which alone puts her above 75% of her country peers. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[wazafam]

For years, Quentin Tarantino has been saying that he intends to retire from filmmaking after directing 10 movies to prevent himself from losing touch with his audience. 2019’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood brought the grand total to nine, so if Tarantino is going to stick to his plan, he’s only got one movie left before calling it a day.

RELATED: 10 Regular Tarantino Collaborators (& Their Highest Rated Movie On Rotten Tomatoes)

Like most auteurs, Tarantino has a roster of regular collaborators. Since the director’s final movie is their last chance to work with him, there are a lot of actors like Samuel L. Jackson that fans are hoping to see in Tarantino’s cinematic swansong.

10 Samuel L. Jackson

Samuel L. Jackson didn’t appear in Tarantino’s first movie – although he did audition for a part – but, arguably, no actor is more inextricably tied to Q.T.’s filmography than Samuel L. Jackson. No actor is more adept at delivering Tarantino’s poetic, unwieldy dialogue or more in tune with the writer-director’s pulpy cinematic universe than Jackson.

The actor’s starring roles in Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, and The Hateful Eight all rank among his finest performances. Hopefully, he’ll collaborate with Tarantino one more time before the director retires.

9 Kurt Russell

After seeing Kurt Russell relegated to schmaltzy movies like Miracle, Quentin Tarantino decided to bring back the badass Kurt Russell he remembered from movies like Escape from New York by casting him as Stuntman Mike in his grindhouse slasher Death Proof.

Russell has since reappeared in The Hateful Eight and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Even if it’s just a small role, he should pop up in Tarantino’s tenth and final directorial effort.

8 Uma Thurman

The role of Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction made Uma Thurman an overnight star, and she later played an even more memorable role for Tarantino as the vengeful “the Bride” in Kill Bill.

RELATED: 10 Subtle Connections In The Quentin Tarantino Universe

If Tarantino’s fabled final film turns out to be Kill Bill: Volume 3, then Thurman will naturally be receiving a call. But even if it’s not a Kill Bill threequel, Tarantino should still find a role for Thurman in his final work.

7 Tim Roth

Tarantino has been working with Tim Roth since the very beginning of his career. Roth played Mr. Orange in the director’s debut feature Reservoir Dogs, then played the memorable supporting role of Pumpkin in the bookend scenes of Pulp Fiction.

The duo recently reunited when Roth played Oswaldo Mobray in The Hateful Eight. It would bring Tarantino’s filmography full circle if the star of his first movie reappears in his final one.

6 Zoë Bell

Zoë Bell first collaborated with Tarantino when she was Uma Thurman’s stunt double in Kill Bill, but the director ended up casting her in a few acting roles.

She played Six-Horse Judy in The Hateful Eight, stunt coordinator Janet in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, a tracker in Django Unchained, and a fictionalized version of herself in Death Proof. The stage is set for Bell to return in Tarantino’s tenth and final movie.

5 Bruce Dern

After making a cameo appearance in Django Unchained, Bruce Dern was given a more substantial role as a veteran Confederate in The Hateful Eight. When Burt Reynolds passed away, Dern was cast to replace him as George Spahn in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

RELATED: 10 Underrated Movies Starring Actors From The Quentin Tarantino Universe

Dern has appeared in all of Tarantino’s movies since 2010, so it would make sense for the Silent Running star to show up in his next one, too.

4 Michael Madsen

After playing the sadistic Mr. Blonde in Reservoir Dogs and turning down the role of Vincent Vega in Pulp Fiction, Michael Madsen went on to play major roles in Kill Bill and The Hateful Eight.

He cameoed as one of Rick Dalton’s Bounty Law co-stars in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, but he should be given a much bigger role in Tarantino’s final movie.

3 Pam Grier

Quentin Tarantino only ever worked with Pam Grier once – when she played the title role in Jackie Brown – but that one collaboration was enough to prove they’re terrific creative partners.

Grier’s blaxploitation classics were a major influence on Tarantino’s filmmaking and their first collaboration resulted in arguably the director’s most mature and underrated film. Her return in Q.T.’s final movie would certainly be welcome.

2 Harvey Keitel

After giving unforgettable performances as Mr. White and “The Wolf” in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, respectively, the only appearance Harvey Keitel made on Tarantino’s filmography was a voice cameo in Inglourious Basterds.

RELATED: The 10 Best Cameos In Quentin Tarantino Movies

In 2019, Keitel reunited with one director he hadn’t worked with in a while – Martin Scorsese, with whom he made The Irishman – and if he enjoyed that, maybe he’d consider reuniting with another renowned auteur.

1 Christoph Waltz

When Tarantino was casting Inglourious Basterds and struggling to find somebody to play Col. Hans Landa, he worried he’d written an unplayable role. And then Christoph Waltz showed up to save his movie. After working with Waltz on Basterds, Tarantino wrote the role of German dentist-turned-bounty hunter Dr. Schultz in Django Unchained specifically for him.

But after Waltz won Oscars for both of those roles, he hasn’t been cast in another Tarantino movie. For his final film, Tarantino should make room for Waltz.

NEXT: Quentin Tarantino: 10 Movie Ideas He Mentioned That He Never Made

Samuel L. Jackson & 9 Other Actors Who Need To Be In Tarantino's Final Movie from https://ift.tt/3bdTCke