#so now a show that is literally synthesized to be my jam

[one-true-houselight]

What is the point of requiring masks to walk into a building, only to leave it up for personal choice once people sit down for a performance? Do you understand how masks work?

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Sleep Tight For Me...I’m Gone

Lately I’ve been writing these Better Days Are A Toenail Away™️ posts in Microsoft Word, selecting all and changing the font to Garamond, which is so readable and beautiful, and posting the Word docs, paragraphs by paragraph, inside these Tumblr drafts. It makes things look nice, to my old fashioned sensibilities, but fixing errors is a time-consuming and needlessly convoluted four-step process.

First, I have to copy, then delete the paragraph containing the error. Then I open the doc. and paste the error-ridden paragraph back into Word. After I find and fix the error, I need to save it and copy and paste it back into the post. It's time-consuming because I’m not just copying a paragraph. As you can see from more recent post, what I copied looked more like a photograph of the paragraph, not the words themselves written in Tumblr’s default font Arial. For an example of this, see below. I like the way it looks like old newspaper clippings. I posted an article about how my fent dealer John Smith kept getting robbed, and had resorted to putting a machete in front of his front door as a way of preventing this, a lever of sorts, which is plainly visible in the video I posted,

So today I’ve given up on trying to make my posts look like books or zines, and have given into the Tumblr font, which is about as pretty as a horse with his snout shot off.

There are two much longer posts I’m working on right now, one about Nirvana and one about Soundgarden, respectively, and how both bands were very unlike their public perception, but those posts are taking a lot of work so I’m putting them on the backburner because today is some dumbass corporation’s day where it tries to synthesize mental health and profit and the end result is as baldly capitalist and clumsy as you would expect. 

I’m not gonna name the company, or repeat their stupid fucking slogan. As far as I can tell (which isn't very far), talking about my trauma has never made me feel better. And in fact it has sometimes made me feel worse, because in telling you what hurts and scares me, I’ve given a part of myself away that I can’t get back. When you’re like me, and you’ve lost everything multiple times, sometimes the only form of power you have is how you choose, or do not choose, to tell your story. And in a world where everybody wants to tell “their truth,” silence is power. 

You don’t get to know me, sorry. I’m not gonna hand you my life, both my bad and good experiences, and conclude: “Welp, that’s why I’m so fucked up. Case closed.” 

Honestly, I used to be a little confused, or miffed that my former partner (who is an amazing person btw, in every respect) almost never spoke about some of the traumatic things she’d experienced in her past. I took it as a sign that she either didn’t trust me, or she didn’t think I would be a sympathetic listener, or the mere fact of my gender precluded her from sharing because I couldn’t truly understand what it was she had gone through. It’s not like I ever asked her to talk about it, but I did say, once or twice, “hey if you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m around.” She never took me up on it, and I let it go. 

But as I watched her, and saw her life unfold, over the years we spent together, I began to realize I wasn’t exactly in any position to be telling her how to live her life or how to be mentally healthy. After all, she has found success in a number of avenues, both creative and occupational, and I’ve found neither. I'm not saying the fact that she didn't talk much about her trauma is the reason for her success. I'm saying that she's forged a better path through life than I have, and maybe I should take a cue from that.

She never told me what to do, per se. It was more like living by example. But because I’m pretty dense, and a severe addict, our time together actually sorta reminds me now of that Cornell lyric from his first record: She’s going to change the world. But she can’t change me.

I have certainly found that talking about how shitty my life is only makes me feel more shitty, not free, or unburdened, or better. If you wanna talk about your problems, and you find it helpful, more power to you. Just don’t wait for a corporation to tell you it’s okay to not be okay. 

When Chris Cornell died I was so shocked. Of all the grunge icons he seemed the most stable, and he'd survived the rise and fall of two major label rock bands. If anyone had survived the media machine that chewed up and spat out Staley, Cobain, and to a lesser extent Andrew Wood and Shannon Hoon, it was Cornell. He would be the last guy to support hashtag activism like #StarbucksMyLifeSucks. Chris Cornell actually loved to fuck with the best laid plans of corporate rats. Molson once had a few promotional concerts in Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, called Molson Canadian Rocks Arctic, with both Hole and Soundgarden playing to a crowd of flown-in grunge fans and bemused locals. But the whole anti-corporate thing grunge was known for actually came through when Courtney Love told the crowd she “use[d] Molson Canadian to douche.” Lol. Here’s a photo of Love arriving in Tuktoyatuk.

Cornell told the same people “so we’re here because of some beer company? Labatt’s?” Both artists’ jabs are funny. Cornell’s was a bit more subtle, but that’s what Cornell was like. 

So today’s post is about Chris Cornell’s suicide, more specifically the media’s reaction to it. For whatever reason, when Cornell died, every single news outlet, from CNN to Fox to CBC, posted “Black Hole Sun,” as if it’s the only song he ever fucking wrote, or – and this is far worse – the only song he wrote that’s worth hearing. The problem with this is more than twofold or threefold. It's fucking hydraheaded. 

Not only is “Black Hole Sun” a mediocre piece of music, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Soundgarden’s sound. 

Now, I’m a huge fan of the A.V. Club series HateSong, in which public figures gleefully talk shit about the one song they hate more than any other song in the world. The Max Bemis (Say Anything) one where he talks about Nirvana’s “Rape Me” as a terrible rewrite of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is terrific, but comedian Anthony Jeselnik’s HateSong takes “Black Hole Sun” apart, and I love it. I think the best line is: I think the more I hear it, the worse it gets. AVC: After the song became a huge hit, Chris Cornell said that he’d written it in about 15 minutes. AJ: I totally believe that. I don’t believe that Soundgarden likes that song. Like, I remember Eminem once said that he knew his song “My Name Is” was going to be a huge hit because the first time he heard it he was annoyed. It’s something about an annoying song that just grabs onto people. But I don’t think that anyone likes “Black Hole Sun.” I’ve never heard of anyone who likes it. I don’t understand why it gets played so much. It’s become a summer jam, and it’s not a summer song at all. Jeselnik is right that Soundgarden didn’t think much of the song. Guitarist Kim Thayil wasn’t kidding when he disparagingly called it the “Dream On” of their live show. And Cornell himself, known for a meticulous approach to his songwriting, had admitted that with “Black Hole Sun”was “probably the closest to me just playing with words for words’ sake, of anything I’ve written. I guess it worked for a lot of people who heard it, but I have no idea how you'd begin to take that one literally.” I mean it’s obvious from the opening lines that Cornell is just playing with words and how they sound: in my eyes/indisposed/in disguises no one knows What songs would have been more appropriate for Cornell’s untimely death? Glad you asked! Cuz there’s like…fucking at least ten that would have been better. I’m not tryna be one of those “the deep album cuts are better maaaaaan,” but with Soundgarden, it happens to be true. With some bands, the single are their best work. With other bands, the singles are the hors d’oeuvres for the entrees. So what deep cuts would have celebrated Cornell’s death a bit better? Well, to begin with, Superunknown’s strange and stately closer “Like Suicide” would have worked, for obvious reasons.

“Tighter and Tighter,” a song that is actually about the moment of death and what it might feel like, is one of my all-time fav Soundgarden songs. Not only is it a creepy and prescient prediction of what Cornell’s death by hanging himself may have felt like, it’s opening line is a good description of the personification of death: Shadow face/Blowing smoke and talking wind

Another sample lyric: “A sucking holy wind will take me from this bed tonight/and bloody wits another hits me and I have to say goodbye/sleep tight for me, I’m gone/and I hope it’s  a sweet ride/here for me tonight/cuz I’m feel I’m going/feel I’m slowing down.” 

The morning after Cornell’s death hit the news my buddy and bandmate James told me that en route to work his phone, which was playing music randomly through his car speakers, landed on “Tighter and Tighter” and he had to pull over because he was tearing up. 

“Fell On Black Days” is another song about depression and mortality. Cornell had the following to say about the song: “Fell on Black Days” was like this ongoing fear I’ve had for years ... It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything’s going well, things are exciting—when all of a sudden you realize you’re unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared. There's no particular event you can pin the feeling down to, it's just that you realize one day that everything in your life is fucked! 

Now, if that’s not a cogent and even-tempered explanation of suicidal thoughts, what is? Why else would Cornell have admitted to being “really really scared” by his depression unless he knew what that depression could ultimately leasd to? Here’s some lyrics to “Fell on Black Days.” Dig the high literary use of “whomsoever” and “whatsoever.” Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time cuz I fell on black days

Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled...I put you down I’m a searchlight soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right I sure don’t mind a change but I fell on black days how would I know that this could be my fate?

Eagle-eared listeners might think this version different from the album version. They are right. The rendition in the video was recorded live off the floor @ Bad Animals, the Seattle studio owned by Heart, where Soundgarden would record Down on the Upside. 

“Boot Camp” is a scary meditation about loss of agency that for years was tied with Zeppelin’s “I'm Gonna Crawl” for Creepiest Song to Cap a Discography, until Soundgarden reunited and released King Animal.

“Taree” is about ghost light, influencing events after dying and features Cornell’s most exhausted, convincing “yeah” @ 2:57.

“Applebite” is a Matt Cameron-penned ponderous clunker about Adam’s original expulsion from Eden. Doomy and death-laden.

“Let Me Drown” is a song about letting someone die.

“The Day I Tried To Live” is frequently cited as Soundgarden’s finest achievement, its odd time signature somehow sounds straight, thanks to Matt Cameron’s brilliant time keeping.

“4th of July” is a song about a post apocalyptic urban landscape, where the speaker isn’t sure whether he is seeing fireworks or bombs. 

“Limo Wreck” is a cool death song and has an eerie 9-11 prediction. “Building the towers belongs to the sky/when the whole thing comes crashing down don’t ask me why.” 

ANY of the above songs would have been better than that fucking asinine dirge-like major key fuckaround that has somehow not just become Soundgarden's signature song...but their ONLY song. 

Does nobody remember Johnny Cash covering “Rusty Cage?” 

“Outshined?”

“Burden In My Hand?”

“Blow Up The Outside World?”

Did none of these other songs get stuck in the electric head? (The electric head is Rob Zombie’s term for the technologically advanced culture we have found ourselves enmeshed in, or imprisoned by. It was the subtitle for White Zombie’s 1995 hit album Astro-Creep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.)

For my money (which ain’t much honey), the song that best fits both Cornell’s artistic integrity and the sad circumstances of his suicide is “Tighter and Tighter.” I once wrote a whole article on the way artists use “yeah” as a placeholder or as a way to convey emotion when words themselves aren’t adequate. Dig that tired, world-weary exhausted “yeah” at 5:35 of “Tighter & Tighter.”

Or the creepy line going into the first chorus: remember this...remember everything’s just black or burning sun. Not that I agree with such a bleak worldview. It’s a writer’s line. And Randy Bachman has said, “when you’re a writer, you’d step over your own mother.” That’s the Cornell I want to remember. Not that he would step over his own mother. By all accounts he was a committed family man. I mean, I want to remember the Cornell who created strange atmospheric sonic worlds, who explored the dark side that sadly, eventually won out. His otherworldly beautiful music is what I choose to remember about Chris Cornell, not his estate tastelessly exploiting “Black Hole Sun” by using a line from the song to title a posthumous Cornell album of covers No One Sings Like You Anymore. Sigh.

First Cornell’s widow said this was “Chris’s last album.” Okay. What about the Soundgarden songs he recorded vocals for before he died? Kim Thayil was pretty diplomatic about it when asked recently. Cornell did record vocal tracks for the follow up to King Animal.

Kim Thayil: “Given our love for Chris, I do not see us reconfiguring without him.”

But he makes it clear in this interview that Cornell’s widow Vicky has those tracks and won’t release them to the band. Maybe because she blames the band for Chris dying that night? She’s not wrong to believe that they would have known, and seen, what kind of shape Cornell was in, at least at the venue, maybe not later at the hotel.

Kim Thayil: “It’s entirely possible that a new Soundgarden album will be released. Certainly. All it would need is to take the audio files that are available. I tighten up the guitars. Ben does the bass. We get the producers we want to make it sound like a Soundgarden record.”

Interviewer: “Is there an obstacle stopping that?”

Kim Thayil: “There shouldn’t be. There really isn’t. Other than the fact that we don’t have those files.”

Interviewer: “They’re not under your auspices?”

Kim Thayil: “Right. It would be ridiculous if [the record wasn’t made]. But these are difficult things. Partnerships and...property.”

You’re just gonna keep those wav files? And why title his covers album Volume 1 if it’s his “last album?”

Oh right. $$$

No one does sing like Cornell, but is “Black Hole Sun” really the best thing he ever did? The best song he ever sang? Should an album of covers be the last thing he gives to the world?

The only honest answer is no.

Sleep tight Chris. You’re gone.

[shadowed-dancer]

Thoughts on the Cats Movie soundtrack

Still haven’t seen the film, but I thought I’d give my opinion based solely on the music of this MUSICAL film, ignoring the CGI and any story beats they may have added (also for context, I’ve seen the staged musical and I actually enjoyed it)

Fun fact, all thoughts were written as I was hearing the songs, so it’s entirely my first, gut based reactions. You are reading it exactly as it popped into my head upon hearing bits of the songs

This ended up being way longer than I thought so it goes under a cut. Enjoy

Overture

I wasn’t going to review the overture but there’s a weird synthesizer and I needed to point it out

Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats

It doesn’t sound right. The pacing at the beginning is off. Once the chorus kicks in it gets better (but it comes later?)

It got weirdly... techno? Idk if that’s the right word

There are a lot of solos especially during the “practical cats, dramatical cats” list. At first I didn’t like it cause I really love when groups of people sing together, but it grew on me

Although Misto (I think) quickly adding in “and magical cats” at the end of the list is really cute. I love my boy

Old Gumbi Cat

The man singing is great (Munkustrap? Idk if they changed it) but I miss Jenny’s preppy and peppy attitude from the musical

Also I miss the 3 girls who used to sing the “Buuuut when the day’s hustle and bustle is done”

There’s a part that I think is the mice singing? Not a fan. I’m scared

I don’t hear any tap shoes, hopefully she does get her tap solo in the movie but from what I’ve heard in reviews, I don’t think she does

I actually like the very end bit. I never liked the musical version where they sing “for she’s a jolly good fellow”. This one flows a bit better and rhymes when she says “thank you my dears”

Rum Tum Tugger 

Dang, this is funky! I actually don’t hate it

Is... is Grizabella the Glamour Cat cut? Or just not on the album? That was actually one of my favourite songs I’m sad it’s gone. I wanted to hear Demeter’s voice

Bustopher Jones 

It isn’t as bad as I’d feared. I was nervous about James Corden, but it’s pretty ok

It’s not my favourite song to begin with so it’s pretty meh. This version is good for what it is

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

This is so different and I miss the energy, but I actually don’t hate it. It gives off a very sneaky type of energy and I kind of like it

It’s hard to grasp a tune though

Also, I like Rumpleteazer’s voice. It’s cute

Old Deuteronomy

It’s pretty similar to the original tbh

Someone in the comments on the video said it’s still Munkustrap singing, in which case he’s doing a very good job!

I miss his duet with Tugger though

Also Old Deuteronomy no longer buried 99 wives, but instead lived 99 lives? Ok

Oh jeez I was not expecting her voice to sound like that

Beautiful Ghosts

It’s ... actually kind of nice?

I was worried, but so far I’m not hating a lot of these added “Oscar bait” songs (Never more alone from Les Mis, No one would listen from Phantom, Evermore from Beauty and the Beast)

“No beauty in my memory” is that a parallel to Grizabella’s line “I can smile at the old days, I was beautiful then”

She mentions “memories” a lot. Is she being set as a reflection of Grizabella? (wanting to be wanted and wanting to fit in)

“At least you have something” who is the “you?” Misto? The Jellicle tribe? A plural “you” referring to the world?

I feel like if she is singing this to Misto it will break up the pacing of the film, idk how to explain it. Like this song is nice but it’s slow, maybe that’s ok though cuz it comes right after Old Deuteronomy (the song)

Her voice is very pretty and I almost started tearing up. I was hesitant of them using Victoria as an audience surrogate (someone to have the cats introduce themselves to) but I like it. They seem to have made her an actual character

Oh shoot, epiphany! Is this song meant to replace the first “Memories” that goes before intermission? Because that’s not on the soundtrack. If that’s the case that’s actually smart

Gus

I miss Jellylorum singing about him. That being said, even though he doesn’t really sing, I feel it fits him fine

His Gandalf is showing. For some reason the beginning reminded me of Lord of the Rings where he is singing “the road goes ever on and on”

It’s odd not having Jellylorum sing about him. It’s less sympathetic when he sings about himself

Um, does Gus not perform a play about the Pekes and the Pollicles? I’m... actually ok with that thank you for cutting the run time down

For those curious, the Pekes and the Pollicles was moved in the Broadway revival and US tour to be after Gus’ song. It serves as him reliving his glory days by performing one of his old plays

Skimbleshanks

It’s kept the same fun, lighthearted energy that I loved so much

There are some weird pauses but I’ll let it slide

That weird electric/techno sound is in the background again

They cut it down... a lot. I don’t blame them though, it was a very long song. And the parts they kept are executed amazingly

Was... was that tap dancing? So maybe Jenny really isn’t a tap dancer any more. Dang it

Macavity

It’s no longer a duet... they’re really cutting all the fun duets, eh?

Where is Demeter? Is she ok?

Also Taylor Swift is British

Overall the performance is pretty good

“He’s outwardly respectible. I know he cheats at cards” ok that line used to make sense as a duet cuz it was like Demeter would say one thing and then Bombalurina would come and add to it/contradict it. Now it’s weird to be sung by the same person (at least I THINK that’s Taylor singing both parts)

Wait... is that Macavity saying “the Napoleon of crime”? Why is he present? I know something changed in the timing but does he steal Old Deuteronomy AFTER this song? Cuz that just seems weird. Like “Ok now that you know who I am, let’s go”

The alternative is that he returned after stealing her to taunt the Jellicles which might work? It may not have even been him who said the line though lmao

Mr. Mistofelees

Oh man they did my boy dirty

Why is he so breathy? Is he nervous? You’re supposed to be the greatest magician ever! What did they do to his character?

Also why is he singing about himself? Someone help him

The breaks after the chorus are starting to annoy me. It’s disrupting my jam

“Not long ago this phenomenal cat...” ok I know that technically that is grammatically correct if he gestures to himself, but because the whole song is now first person it just sounds weird

Wow, EVERY duet I cared about it gone. Like, I don’t even ship Tugofelees but I could respect it! And I obviously acknowledge they have SOME sort of relationship in the musical (platonic, one sided admiration, or otherwise) so why cut it? Also I loved Tugger singing this song. I’m just mad.

You know what? Scratch that, it didn’t even need to be Tugger, just SOMEONE sing with him holy corn

Oh ok wow so can Old Deuteronomy just not sing? I thought she was supposed to play Grizabella in the London production, why is her voice so scratchy?

This song in the musical was my favourite because of it’s fun energy and flowing beat. Well the beat doesn’t flow and the energy is gone so good news Skimble you’re my favourite song for this recording so far. Congrats

Ok but Misto singing “as meeeee” as the rest of the cast sings the chorus is actually kind of adorable

Woah woah woah wait someone else is introducing him at the end? Why couldn’t you have helped throughout the entire song?????

The meows... I can’t

Memory

Her words sound slurred? Is that just me? I know the song so I know what she’s supposed to be saying, but if I hadn’t known I wouldn’t understand a lot of it

Her voice is pretty solid aside from that though

I know people were mad Victoria sings with her, but with Beautiful Ghosts as her song, I think it’s thematically appropriate

Ok the climax is well done

Oh wait what? The energy just disappeared. Bring it back!

Off topic but if you want to hear a really good Grizabella, check out Keri Rene Fuller. I got to see her live and I legit cried her climax was amazing she belted it so loud it literally shook me, like I could feel the vibrations in my chest

The Ad-dressing of Cats

Oh no I have to listen to her sing a whole song

It sounds like she’s sing-talking. It worked for Gus, not so much here

Apparently she looks directly into the camera during this scene

Ok she did it before but I noticed it on this lyric. “To treat you as a trusted friend”. Old Deuteronomy used to go up on “trusted friend” but she goes down. It brings the whole energy down

She did it again on “Straudsberg pie”

I know she’s saying “aim” but it sounded like she said “end” which made the last lyric (name) sound like it didn’t rhyme. Oh boy.

To conclude, lots of changes. Not all good, but not all bad either. Some questionable casting and directions, but I’m excited to see it. Hopefully some of my questions are cleared up.

I may make a full review of the film once I've seen it.

[fuckheadwitha]

Listening to Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time

Rolling Stone released an updated list of their top 500 albums of all time and being trapped in the purgatory of covid quarantine this seems like the perfect moment to tackle what an almost completely irrelevant former counter-culture institution has to say about music (we can’t actually blame Rolling Stone for this list, a huge number of musicians and critics voted to make it). I am going to listen to every single one of these, all the way through, with a level of attention that's not super intense but I'm definitely not having them on in the background as simple aural wallpaper. Two caveats though: I can make an executive decision to skip any album if I feel the experience is sufficiently miserable, and I'm also going to be skipping the compilation albums that I feel aren't really worth slots (best ofs, etc.). In addition, I will be ordering them as I go, creating a top 500 of the top 500 (it will be less than 500 since we've already established I'm skipping some of these).

Here are 500-490:

#500 Arcade Fire - Funeral

I can already tell I'm going to be at odds with this list if one of the most important albums of my high school years is at the bottom. That being said, I haven't actually given this whole thing a listen since probably the early 2010s, before Arcade Fire fatigue set in and the hipsterati appointed band of a generation just kinda seemed to fade from popular consciousness. I actually dreaded re-experiencing it, since the synthesis of anthemic rock and quirky folk instrumentation which Arcade Fire brought mainstream has now become the common shorthand of insufferable spotify friendly folk pop. Blessedly, the first half of the album easily holds up, largely propelled by dirty fast rhythm guitar, orchestration that's tuneful rather than obnoxious, and lyrics which come off as earnest rather than pretentious. The middle gets a little sappy and “Crown of Love”, a song I definitely used to like, really starts the grate. And then we get to “Wake Up”, whose cultural saturation spawned thousands of dorky indie rock outfits that confused layered strings and horns with power and meaning. This song definitely hasn't survived the film trailers and commercials which it so ubiquitously overlayed, but the line about "a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust" still attacks the part of my brain capable of sincere emotion. This album is probably going to hold the top spot for a while, because although so many elements of Funeral that made it feel so meaningful, that made it stand out so much in 2004, have been seamlessly assimilated into an intellectually and emotionally bankrupt indie pop industrial complex, the album itself still has a genuine vulnerability and bangers that still manage to rip.

#499

Rufus, Chaka Khan - Ask Rufus

Before she became a name in her own right, Chaka Khan was the voice of the band Rufus, and it’s definitely her voice that shines amongst some spritely vibey funk. That’s not to say that these aren’t some jams on their own. “At Midnight” is a banging opener with a sprint to the finish, and although the explicitly named but kinda boring “Slow Screw Against the Wall” feels weak, this wasn’t really supposed to be an album of barn burners. This was something people put on their vinyl record players while they chilled on vinyl furniture after a night of doing cocaine. “Everlasting Love” is a bop with a bassline like a Sega Genesis game, and the twinkling piano on “Hollywood” adds a playful levity to lyrics that are supposed to be both tackily optimistic about making it big out in LA and subtly realistic about the kind of nightmare world showbiz can be. “Better Days” is another track that manages to be a bittersweet jam with a catchy sour saxophone and playful synths under Chaka Khan’s vamping. This album definitely belongs on a ‘chill funk to study and relax to’ playlist.

#498

Suicide - Suicide

We’ve hit the first album that could be rightly called a progenitor for multiple genres that followed it. Someone could say there’s a self-serving element of this being on a Rolling Stone list (the band was one of the first to adopt the label ‘Punk’ after seeing it in a Lester Bangs article) but the album’s legacy is basically indisputable. EBM, industrial, punk, post-punk, new wave, new whatever all have a genealogy that connects to Suicide, and it’s easy to hear the band in everything that followed. But what the band actually is is two guys, one with an electric organ and one with a spooky voice, doing spooky simple riffs and saying spooky simple things. Simplicity is definitely not a dis here. The opener “Ghost Rider” makes a banger out of four notes and one instrument, and the refrain ‘America America is killing its youth’ is really all the lyrical complexity you need to fucking get it. “Cheree” and “Girl” have almost identical lyrics (‘oh baby’ vs ‘oh girl’) but “Cheree” is more like a fairy tale and “Girl” is more like a sonic handjob. “Frankie Teardrop” has the audacity to tell a ten minute story with its lyrics, but of course there is intermittent, actually way too loud screaming breaking up the narrative of a guy who loses everything then kills his family and himself. The song is basically a novelty, and I think you can probably say the whole album is a novelty between its brevity and character. But for a bite sized snack this album casts a huge shadow.

#497

Various Artists - The Indestructible Beat of Soweto

The fact that this particular compilation always ends up in the canon has a lot to do with the cultural context it existed in, being America’s first encounter with South African contemporary music during the decline of apartheid (it wouldn’t end until a decade later in 1994 with the country’s first multi-racial elections). Music journos often bring up the fact Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the all male choir singing on the album ender “Nansi Imali”, sang on Paul Simon’s Graceland like their virtue is they helped Paul Simon get over his depression and not, like, the actual music. But also like, how is the actual music? Jams. Ubiquitous, hooky guitars propel the songs along with bright choruses over low lead vocals, but I didn’t expect the synthesizer on the bop “Qhude Manikiniki”, nor the discordant hoedown violin on “Sobabamba”. “Holotelani” is a groove to walk into the sunset to.

#496

Shakira - Donde Estan los Ladrones

So this is the first head scratcher on the list. It’s not like it sucks. And I think I prefer this 90s guitar pop driven spanish language Shakira to modern superstar Shakira. But I mean, it’s an album of late nineties latin pop minivan music, with a thick syrupy middle that doesn’t do anything for me. The opener and closer stand out though.  ‘Ciega, Sordomuda’, one of the biggest pop songs of the 90s (it was #1 on the charts of literally every country in Latin America), has a galloping acoustic guitar and horn hits with Shakira’s vocals at their most percussive.

#495

Boyz II Men - II

So, if you were alive in the 90s you know Boyz II Men were fucking huge, and the worst song on the album is the second track “All Around the World”, basically a love song to their own success, and also the women they’ve banged. You can tell it was written specifically so that the crowd could go fucking wild when they heard their state/city/country mentioned in the song, and I’m not gonna double check but I’m sure they hit all fifty states. Once you’re over that hump though you basically have an hour of songs to fuck to. “U Know” keeps it catchy with propulsive midi guitar and synth horns, “Jezzebel” starts with a skit and ends with a richly layered jazz tune about falling in love on a train, and “On Bended Knee” has a Ragnarok Online type beat. Honestly this album can drag, but you’re not supposed to be listening to it alone in a state of analysis, you’re supposed to have it on during a date that’s going really, really well.

#494

The Ronettes - Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes

A singles compilation of the Ronettes, the only ones I immediately recognized were ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Going to the Chapel of Love’, the latter of which I didn’t know existed since the version of the song I knew was by the Dixie Cups, which was apparently a source of drama since the Ronettes did it first but producer Phil Spector refused to release it. I feel like as a retro trip to sixties girl groups it’s full of enough songs about breaking up (for example “Breaking Up”) getting back together (for example “Breaking Up”) and wanting to get married but you can’t, because you’re a teenager (“So Young”).

#493

Marvin Gaye - Here, My Dear

This album only exists because Marvin was required by his divorce settlement to make it and provide all of the royalties to his ex-wife and motown executive Anna Gordy Gaye. It’s absolutely bizarre, phoned in mid tempo funk whose lyrics range from the passive aggressive (“This is what you wanted right?”) to the petulant (“Why do I have to pay attorney’s fees?”). There is a seething realness here that crosses well past the border of uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s an amazing album to listen to, but it’s an amazing album to exist: Marvin Gaye is legally obligated to throw his own divorce pity party, and everyone's invited.

#492

Bonnie Raitt - Nick of Time

I have never heard of Bonnie Raitt before but apparently this album won several grammys including album of the year in 1989 and sold 5 million copies, which I guess goes to show that no award provides less long term relevance than the grammys. The story around the album is pretty heartwarming, it was her first massive hit after a career of whiffs, and Bonnie Raitt herself is apparently a social activist and neat human being. I say all this because this sort of 80s country blues rock doesn't really connect with me, but the artist obviously deserves more than that. I unequivocally like the title track though, a hand-clap backed winding electric piano groove about literally finding love before your eggs dry up.

#491

Harry Styles - Fine Line

I do not think I have ever heard a one direction song because I am an adult who only listens to public radio. I’m totally open to pop bands or boy bands or boy band refugee solo artists, but I don’t like anything here. It’s like a mixtape of the worst pop trends of the decade, from glam rock that sounds like it belongs in a car commercial to folky bullshit that sounds like it belongs in a more family focused car commercial. This gets my first DNP (Does Not Place).

#490

Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like a Wheel

Another soft-rock blues and country album which just doesn’t land with me. But the opener “You’re No Good” is like a soul/country hybrid which still goes hard and the title track hits with the lyrics “And it's only love and it's only love / That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out”.

Current Ranking, which is weirdly almost like an inverse of the rolling stones list so far;

[rorybergstrom]

𝑫𝑰𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑩𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑲𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑻𝑯 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑫  ???

            hello, it’s nora again…. hitting u with another child. a south london-born softboi who deserves tenderness. has a burner phone and doesn’t use social media. does techno dj sets. plays the synth loudly through the night if u live in gorham his room always sounds like a space ship just landed. deals weed around campus on his rollerskates. hates that he can’t get new light up wheels because ana coto made rollerskating cool again. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board. this intro is recycled?? so if theres mistakes, sue me??? and be sure to like and subscribe for more unboxing content x

application.

『 FIONN WHITEHEAD ❙ DEMI-MALE』 ⟿ looks like RORY BERGSTRÖM is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY student. HE is 23 years old & known to be ECCENTRIC, FANATICAL, NITPICKY & DOGMATIC. They’re living in GORHAM, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ ooc name. age. tz. pronouns. 

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some. right now is dad to one cat, whose name changes on a daily basis (identity is constantly shifting, duuuuude), but they were originally named ‘wheezer’

rory has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… is very tender and tame… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

hm now that rory has !Evolved! ig we can do hook up plots if u want but he’s not tht good at divorcing sex from emotion?? like he  hooked up w teddy once n felt hopelessly inlove so..... if u want soft plots b prepared for crippling sadness.......

stay groovy XD XD

[reflectionsofacreator]

Some final AC: Brotherhood thots now that I’ve finished the game

So the lack of time cards drove me insane. That’s a major part of what I liked about ac2, was the time cards, and being able to see the year dates on the dna strands. Ac2 really actually had a sense of time passing in the story though, even if the character models didn’t change much, whereas like... everything feels like it happens within the span of a few months in Brotherhood. Maybe a year. But no, the game takes place over the course of three, with a four year time skip in the last chapter. 

I don’t mind if time isn’t that important to the flow of a story, because ac1′s Altair story was like that, but with the advent of ac2 having yearly time cards, this felt especially bad. I barely felt like I knew what was going on in the terms of timeline, and it annoyed me to no end. 

I felt like barely any in depth character interactions? A lot of the characters that were introduced didn’t really feel like they were ... characters, just introductions to them. Claudia especially, I feel like, for how important she was supposed to be. Related, it kinda ... felt like extended dlc to me, in terms of story depth? Like, I was expecting a lot more than what I got, even though I ended up covering almost every story beat in my posts. Which ... kinda sucks? From general consensus, so many people said that Brotherhood was the best and like-- if this is the best, I’m a little concerned. Then again, I feel like I’m more concerned with story over gameplay in general. 

Lucrezia is honest to god my third favorite character in the two Ezio games I’ve played. (The others being Ezio and Teodora) 

I’m also sad that the Venice crew – Teodora, Antonio, Rosa, etc– never show up in Brotherhood. Presumably they’re too busy with running things behind the scenes, but… Still sucks. (I know that Rosa’s voice actress was killed in a car crash, which shelved any plans for that character. In one of the novelizations, she takes over Rosa in Fiore from Claudia and becomes a leader of Assassins.) Having them be mentioned would have at least been nice. Just... they’re all part of the Assassin Brotherhood too, you know? Even a few mentions of letters would’ve been cool, or sending your baby ducks out to missions in Venice for them. 

Gameplay wise, Brotherhood was everything I wanted out of ac2. Like, it’s smooth as sin, it’s fantastic, and the kill streak mechanic? [chef kiss] I love the recruits and the assassin ducklings, so much, and I really appreciate the fact that they can follow you inside almost anywhere, and I love being able to upgrade them. I didn’t bother much with new weapons, mostly because the short knife has my heart, and it’s counter kills. I will say, having a longsword is hella nice. 

there is a critical Lack of leonardo and i am mad about it OKAY DLC FIXED THAT, I’M GOOD NVM 

Ezio is such a Protagonist, like wtf. It’s so freaking pronounced in Brotherhood, even more than in ac2 where he’s like, The Prophet and A Prodigy. No, in this one he straight up just. “Fuck it I got plot armor let’s go take on a castello singlehandedly. Roma is shit? Give me a few years and I’ll fix that. Cat stuck in a tree? Got it.” I love it. It’s fantastic. 

The concept of unlocking repressed memories is like, cool in practice, but not what they used them for. Or at least, not for memories of Christina, who exists to be a killed off love interest. I like the concept of having repressed memories that you have to unlock by being truly in sync with the ancestor you’re playing -- you can’t see it until you’re really living under their skin, but like. I’ve already gone on several rants why the Christina memories make me uncomfortable, so I won’t rehash them here. 

The ost is Fucking Choice and I love it. It’s this like, fucking fantastic mix of modern synthesizers, orchestral, and vocals that really feels unique? It’s grounding in a way that really cements the identity of what kind of story you’re going through -- a historical fiction, viewed by an in universe modern lens, and the mix of “classical” and “futuristic” music really helped make it stand out. (I’m also talking about ac2′s ost as well, since I didn’t really talk much about it in my ac2 posts) An OST can make or break a game, and this ost really made it. 

I feel like Desmond and the modern day shit was the highlight for me? mostly because there wasn’t really room to fuck up the narrative, it was supposed to be short, so therefore there was more detail jam packed into each character interaction. Character wise, the modern day crew felt more fleshed out than most of the Brotherhood cast to me, save for a couple. Which, considering how long you spend with the brotherhood cast, that feels like a travesty. I suppose it’s a Conservation of Detail kind of thing, where the less time you’re supposed to spend with something, the more choice details you have to pack into a smaller period of time. 

Or maybe I just. Like Desmond and the modern shit more than Ezio’s stuff. That’s probably true actually. 

God the ENDING. the Ending fucking killed it  and Lucy with how good it was played out. I’m still Iffy As Fuck for the story decisions that were made there, but how it played out? How shit gets so intense and you’re literally forced to control Desmond like the Apple is controlling him? Fuck man that got to me. That’s some A+ gameplay integration. 

And Now Desmond Is In A Coma, Wonder How That’s Gonna Turn Out

Onto Revelations! 

[secretshinigami]

Not Alone

Author: @jam-knife (I’m submitting through my main) For: @misas-biggest-fan Pairings/Characters: LxLight Rating/Warnings: Mature. Major characters’ deaths. Mentions of sex (though nothing too explicit, and I kept curse words to a minimum too). Angst, lots of it. Prompt: Light being tailed by L’s ghost Author’s Notes: heyyyyy first of all I LOVED your prompts! I really enjoyed writing this for you, it was a very interesting scenario to explore. I hope you like it!!! Please let me know what you think of it once you finish reading it. Second of all, this fic begins with a scene that was unfortunately cut from the anime (though it wasn’t canon in the manga as far as I know, so it’s not that bad). I don’t know whether or not you’ve watched it, but I’ll leave the link here just in case! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tX1_K-mUH94 Word Count: 12k (approximation)

“You said nothing much to look forward to, Ryuk?”

Light’s words were met only by the rustling sound of leaves being ruffled by a sudden cold breeze, which carried with it the smell of removed earth, moss and death. The dirt stuck to his palms and the fabric of his pants as he stood up. He didn’t even show the empathy it required to rub it off.

“Not really. From now on, I’m going to show you how the new world is built.”

His eyes travelled to the sky, dyed orange and red as dusk fell upon him and his –unusually silent– Shinigami. He didn’t give L’s grave one last glimpse as he turned and left. What was there to see anymore? The rocky cross was nothing more than some artfully carved stone, the body six feet below it just an empty carcass, and the dirt that covered it and clung to his person wasn’t different from any other dirt.

None of it truly represented what L had been. L couldn’t possibly be reduced to or preserved in a graveyard lot. Those symbols were hollow.

L was gone. Forever. Which meant that Light now had green light to do with the world –His world– what he wanted.

That’s when he felt it, for the first time.

A step.

Light froze. That… he must have imagined it. Just in case he glanced over his shoulder, and confirmed there was nobody else there; just Ryuk, hovering half a foot over the paved path. That means he imagined it.

That extra step, as if someone tailing him had synchronized their walking with his own, but their last step was slightly off-key.

No. It was nothing. It had been a long day… a long year actually. But now the war was finally over, and all there was left to do was conquer-

He didn’t manage to conclude that thought before the chilling breeze enveloped him in a personal whirlwind of sorts, seeping into his clothes and attacking his every nerve. It only lasted a moment, but it was more than enough for him to perceive an intention in it. One simple idea. Confrontation.

Light was free. Omnipotent. And L was no more.

That is the plain truth… right?

The second time he noticed it was a few days later. Most of the time he wouldn’t even remember it, but every now and then the extra step would announce itself. Subtle, barely present enough to tickle the back of his head. And it grew worse every time he looked the Task Force members in the eye and manipulated or lied to them.

No, he didn’t feel guilty about L’s death –or about any death that preceded it. To think that the reason why his subconscious invoked a constant sensation of being followed and sneered upon was because of some pathetic remorse was ridiculous. Light Yagami was above all that moral crap humans loved to entertain themselves with. He was the God of a newborn world; he simply did what needed to be done for true justice to prevail.

No matter how many times he told himself this, though, the sensation wouldn’t fade away. But, again, it was just that. A sensation.

Or so it had been, until that night.

He had been working on replicating L’s voice synthesizing program for hours on end. There were no windows on the building’s main room, but he knew it was probably very late by now. Even Ryuk, who didn’t biologically need sleep as the otherworldly being he was, had sprawled himself messily on one of the couches and was snoring to his heart’s content.

Light sighed and went back to work. He remembered how that artificial voice had sounded when L used it against him, and when he lent it to Light so he could contact Namikawa during the Yotsuba period. That’s how he knew he was close to getting it right; going to sleep now would only be a waste of time and concentration.

He tweaked the depth and the vibration here and there, checked it, then went back to correcting it. And finally, he succeeded.

“Hello, one two three, testing…” He spoke into the mic, and beamed when he realized he made it. Yes, this would work.

To make sure it was convincing enough to fool anyone, but mostly just because he was feeling giddy with victory, he tried out some L-ish phrases and worked on his intonation and mood.

“You’re in Japan. And your first victim was… little more than an experiment.”

That was exactly what that man had said… so many months ago. Light could still perfectly recall the smugness dripping off every syllable.

“It won’t be too long now before I am able to sentence you… to death.” He replicated impeccably, the words leaving a sour aftertaste behind as he remembered the rage they had unleashed within him back then.

Light gulped and took a breath before leaning into the mic one more time.

“I am L.”

Are you done playing detective?

Light jumped. The chair rolled beneath him and he landed roughly on the floor, together with the toppled mic and a stack of papers, causing a momentary ruckus. He quickly scrambled to his feet, finding support on the desk behind him as he eyed the room. But there was nothing there.

There was no way. He could have sworn he heard L’s voice –not the digital fake, the real deal– whispering inside his head just now. But it lacked the inconsistency of a memory; it had sounded way too organic. It was nothing like the footstep or the silent vigilance. That… was real.

But it couldn’t be. L was dead –he was absolutely certain of that. He had held his body when it happened. He felt it go numb. Still. He confirmed there was no pulse. Then why… why could he hear him?

Was he going crazy?

Every ounce of rationality in him told him so. But. If that… thing just now was real, then…

“Well… Shinigami exist, don’t they? Literal Gods of Death.” He thought out loud. “So… what would be so weird about ghosts?”

Slowly, as if not to disturb the atmosphere, he picked up the chair and sat back down. Not facing the computer, but the room enveloped in darkness. Nothing happened, but he still raised his knees to his chest and adopted his rival’s trademark position out of instinct.

He was definitely losing it.

“Did I make you mad, L?” Light teased, his lips twisted into a wry smile that lost some of its effect given how shaken he actually felt. Even so, there was no answer. “Nothing to say? Why so shy all of a sudden…”

The room was completely quiet except for Ryuk’s thunderous snores. Light waited for a whole minute, and then two more. There were no words… but that feeling of something lingering remained.

“You said yourself I’d do a great job succeeding you.” He tried out, although he was probably just trailing off. “But we both know you wanted to test me, to see if I gave you a response worthy of Kira. You weren’t expecting to actually see it unfold, were you. Does it irritate you? Do you want to hurt me?”

He was about to give up and go back to work when the quiet, familiar chuckle resonated inside him, sending shivers down his spine.

That’s rich coming from the man responsible for my death.

Light’s heart skipped a beat… and his smile grew darker. So it was really him. He wasn’t crazy, or hallucinating. L was haunting him.

“So what? Have you come to take revenge? Talk about a sore loser.”

That, right there, is where you are wrong, dear. You think you’ve already won, but the war is far from over.

He frowned. Even dead, L continued to be as smug as ever. Had it always been this annoying? Moreover, how come L could say it wasn’t over? What else was there left to do? Who else left to defeat?

“What do you mean? I killed you. Everyone left believes in my innocence and supports me as the new L. I’ve acquired the ultimate power. I can direct the police force as L while enchanting the general public as Kira. There’s nothing and nobody else standing on my way to absolute victory.”

Only silence followed his statements. Even more exasperated, he declared:

“You are already dead, L. You’re dead.”

He waited, but nothing else came from L that night.

That, of course, didn’t mean he was gone for good.

Light continued to hear the extra step following him from room to room. That he learned to ignore over time, since it’s easier for the brain to disregard what it gets used to perceiving –just like not seeing your own nose in front of you all the time unless you actively think about it.

What always caught Light off-guard, even though it had become an everyday thing, was when L spoke to him. Light would normally be able to feel when L was laughing at him, or when something he did made the ghost mad. But every time L spoke actual words, they echoed inside Light’s head and his skin tickled.

It was icky. Plus, talking to L always got Light on his nerves. Even after death, the detective had found a purpose for his existence in unnerving Light. And even that was remarkably ordinary and unsurprising compared to the fact that Light somehow managed to put up with it for over four years.

Four years of snarky remarks over his shoulder. Four years of effort dedicated to ignoring that voice and pretending he didn’t hear it, only for L to slip into his dreams where he couldn’t escape him.

Not all was bad, though. He had already experienced having L study his every move, follow him from room to room… back when they were handcuffed they even had to sleep in the same bed and take showers together. Compared to that, the current situation was not so bad. The lack of chains was an improvement, he no longer had to hide his identity as a mass murderer, and since he already had several years worth of experience with talking to entities nobody else could see, concealing L’s presence to the Task Force wasn’t too hard a task.

Ryuk would sometimes eye him like he had gone insane, but Light had no interest in explaining himself to a Shinigami. He knew what Ryuk thought of death: after passing away, the soul goes to the 無(Mu). The Nothingness. According to that, L’s existence as a ghost should be impossible. But here he was regardless.

L didn’t just talk. Light came to realize he was a great listener too. Maybe ‘realize’ was not the right word; more like… rediscover. Except that back when the man was alive, Light was convinced the only reason why he listened to anything he had to say was because he was desperately trying to blame him for something, even though Light didn’t have memories of being Kira back then.

The fact that L listened to him, now that everything was out in the open and what couldn’t be undone had been done, was… nice? That was not quite it.

Sometimes they’d just debate for hours about justice, life and other philosophical matters; sometimes Light would get engrossed in explaining detail by detail each and every plan he executed against L while the ghost laughed and mockingly praised his ingenuity. Sometimes Light felt so alone he crawled out of the bed he shared with Misa and went to the living room, just to sit down in the dark and talk nonsense to that invisible presence.

Meanwhile, time flew by and the world mutated. Kira had become the universal symbol of justice with little to no opposition from any government or social movement, and the mighty detective that once confronted him had slowly faded away, until people grew to remember him as one of many who rebelled against God and obviously failed.

Ghost L found this hilarious at best, and revolting at worst.

And even though the supernatural factor of their whole relationship also extended to how annoying the ghost could get, Light still got used to him not ever really leaving. Slowly, too gradually to pinpoint when, the rage of an imperfect victory was subdued by the solace of keeping the one person that understood.

Until Sayu was kidnapped by Mello. And that changed everything.

There were more opponents. L would call them ‘successors’. The words that were spoken by the ghost over four years ago began to make sense: the war was far from over. With the rise of Mello and Near, Light felt like he was facing his old rival all over again, except this time everything was messier, and the stakes higher.

They had to give away the Death Note to save Sayu’s life. Light did everything that was at hand to stop them from taking it… but they lost the missile. A defeat of that magnitude… It was something he hadn’t experienced in years. It was even worse than when L publicly humiliated him with his live broadcast.

It reminded him of that time. The rain fell relentlessly. He sat, soaked, and let L massage his feet while those huge, merciless yet peaceful eyes pierced him with the truth that the detective had never, not even for a second, swallowed his bluffs. And it made Light feel stupid and desperate and small. That was how he felt now.

The wrath, the impotence, the absolute disgust it all produced were so intense he did nothing but sit on his chair, staring at the ceiling. Misa approached with a cool drink, probably trying to soothe him, but he lacked the energy and the interest to pretend he gave a fuck, so he simply slapped it off her hands and to the floor.

Why was everyone so useless? Why was he so useless?!

Those two kids… he hated them for getting in his way. And he hated L, for being related to them.

Light stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, the door finding its frame with a bang. He wanted to yell. He wanted to break something. With no means to release his rage, he began briskly ripping his clothes off and turned on the shower. Steam immediately filled the room from floor to ceiling; the heat was suffocating even without exposing himself to the water and that, somehow, was relaxing.

You know, that was a very rude thing to do.

Light growled. Not now. He couldn’t handle L as he was now.

“Nobody asked for your bloody opinion.”

I knew you had some anger management issues, but I never would’ve thought you’d take it out on the only person in your life who’s ever offered you comfort and her unconditional support-

“What do you care, L!” He swirled around, yelling at the empty bathroom. He knew he wouldn’t find the man there when he turned, but screaming at the shapes in the steam was easier. “For someone who isn’t even alive you do have a lot to say. It’s pretty hard to give a shit about what you think when you’re never useful and you’re not even here.”

What do you expect me to do, then?

“I don’t know! How about you face me for once instead of hiding like a coward? Or maybe you could just disappear! Why are you even here?!”

He was being irrational, he knew it. And he could only imagine what Misa or Ryuk would think of all this if they walked in on him, screaming at the air. But he didn’t care if he didn’t make sense; he was too angry, and the only one he wanted to take it out on was L. Because it was his fault that people continued to sabotage his perfect plans. If L hadn’t shown up… everything would have been easier.

Do you really want me to leave?

“Yes.” He answered, without a shade of a doubt. “That’s the only thing I’ve wanted ever since you first threatened to sentence me to death. I thought you picked that up when I held you in my arms and watched you die with a smile on my face. Or didn’t you see me laughing at your grave?”

I did.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

A moment of silence followed. Then, hesitantly…

I can’t.

What?

“Why?” Light asked, reaching the limits of his patience.

You think that if I knew I’d still be here? Don’t flatter yourself. The voice answered dryly. It was irritating, but… somewhere deep inside those words he could identify an edge of frustration and… pain. There is something that draws me towards you. Like there’s something I need to do, and it won’t let me go until I do it. But whatever that is I have no idea.

Light huffed, holding his head in his hands.

“Why couldn’t you just die normally…”

I ask myself the same thing every day.

He breathed out. So there was no way to get rid of L as it was. No chance of freedom in the near future. Well, at least he could vent out a bit. Resigned, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

He reached out to take the soap, and froze. The presence… L’s ghost was usually respectful of his personal space but now, it had followed him into the shower.

“What are you doing?” Light asked cautiously, his face beat red and not because of the heat. He didn’t want L in his shower, not even for old times’ sake.

You must hate my guts. Not that I have any anymore.

“Isn’t that obvious?” He retorted, not knowing when the atmosphere got so dense or why he felt uneasy about it.

I guess. Still, I never thought of our altercation as something personal.

“We literally tried to get the other killed for months, L. I’d say it was pretty personal.” Light frowned, earning himself a giggle from L.

Fine, I guess you’re right. However, I don’t think I hate you now. I hate what you did. What you still insist on doing. But I don’t hate you, even though it doesn’t really make any sense.

He didn’t answer. He had no words worth speaking, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with them.

I’m sorry. I wish I could disappear just as much as you do.

“It’s okay. I… don’t mind having someone to talk to either.” He admitted through gritted teeth.

But, about facing you… I think I might be able to do that much.

What… what was he talking about? Light stayed put as water dripped down his body, feeling the steam behind him shift and change, then settle. His skin tickled with even more intensity than it did before, and for a whole five seconds, he seriously considered running off without turning around to see. But, of course, he didn’t. The temptation was too great to ignore.

When he turned around, every nerve end alert in case he had to fight –even though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight a ghost–, he saw it. A translucent figure, its edges blurring into the steam…

“L…”

The commotion of seeing his face again, his eyes, his knowing expression after so many years was so strong Light stumbled back, and found stability against the dripping tiled wall. L’s pale lips curved into a small smile.

“Better?”

Light gulped. Even his voice sounded more corporeal, now that it was coming out of a mouth and not echoing inside his head. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and reached out to touch him. L, understanding his cautious curiosity, didn’t move.

Light went for the chest, over the point where he felt that last dying throb before L’s heart failed permanently. But when he got close enough to touch, his fingers simply trespassed the specter. Energy tickled like electricity all over his hand and up his forearm. He pulled out in shock, and the steam regrouped around the hole he left behind.

“Could you feel that?” He blurted out before thinking.

“Not at all.” The man answered, calmly even though he was also eyeing his own shape with devouring interest. This was new for him too. It was the first time in over four years that he tried out a physical shape.

Wide translucent eyes beamed when a new idea crossed his mind. L tossed his hand against the shampoo rack, but it didn’t even react. It didn’t show the slightest disturbance. That new discovery had L bedazzled. Meanwhile, Light couldn’t stop staring at him, still not quite grasping that this was real. That he could see L again, just the way he was when he lived. His expressions were even livelier than they were back then, now that he was dead and didn’t need to be cautious with his thoughts.

“Can others see you?”

“I don’t know yet. But given how nobody could hear or perceive me before except for you, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Then, from now on, can you stay like this? Visible I mean.”

L’s eyes narrowed, his features shifting with amusement, and Light looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Did you miss me that much? I’ve always been here though.” He teased. Light thought he’d die of mortification.

“Shut up. I just hate hearing you speak inside my head. It feels icky.”

“Alright then.” The smirk grew meaner.

“Also, step out of my shower. This is already weird enough as it is.”

L’s laugh in response to that couldn’t have been more annoying.

L had been right… for the most part. No other person or living being could see him hovering around Light; they wouldn’t react at all to the late detective’s presence as long as he avoided being trespassed by them.

But coming to realize Ryuk could see and hear him was amusing. For L at least, who could also now perceive the God of Death and seized the opportunity to suffocate the otherworldly being with questions until Ryuk lay on the floor, exhausted. Ryuk, too, seemed flabbergasted to find out ghosts actually existed, and he even taught L how to perfect his manifestation technique, until the specter managed to muster an almost solid-looking consistency he could acquire or shed at will.

Meanwhile, Light felt like his temper was gradually being gnawed at. Having both entities annoying him separately had been irritating enough, but he simply couldn’t have imagined how much worse it would get when they did so together.

“And then he told me he wouldn’t give me any more apples unless I found all the cameras!” Ryuk whined. “Even though he knew of my terribly painful withdrawal symptoms. And then I am the monster…”

“How awful.” L shook his phantasmagoric head in exaggerated disapproval. “Oh Light dear, what a cruel, terrible Master you are.”

��You said it! Heh-heh.” The Shinigami barked in agreement.

That was it. He wasn’t taking it anymore.

Light groaned, tossed the earphones away, snatched a pencil holder from the desk’s top and unchained a vicious rain of pens and pencils against the source of his irritation. L and Ryuk simply sat, amused, and watched the items as they trespassed their intangible forms.

“For the love of everything good in this world and the next, can you both just shut up for a goddamn minute?!”

“Anger management, remember?”

Exasperated, Light simply growled and went back to work.

“Ryuk, go back to my father before the rest begin wondering where you went. We’ll be ambushing Mello’s headquarters in a few hours. I need you to be there so he’ll do the deal of the eyes with you.”

“Heh-heh. Sending others to accept deals you’d spit on yourself.” Ryuk chuckled grimly, his eyes flashing bright red for a moment. “Alright! Let’s catch up later, L.”

L nodded at the Shinigami before it disappeared through the wall. He then came hovering to where Light was and sat –or rather landed– on the desk, facing him.

“So the reason why you forfeited the ownership of the Death Note is not only passing the trouble of handing over half of your remaining lifespan to someone else, but also avoid your father realizing you are a Note owner yourself when he comes back. Am I right, Light?”

“It was the only way.” Light shrugged it off, not quite grasping why L found that little trick so interesting. “How can I hope to rule the New World if I die young? I’m not going to risk my life on the frontline, let alone give my years away.”

“But your own father’s years are alright to sell.”

Light didn’t answer.

“You don’t care at all, do you. You’re straight up throwing him to the wolves. He could be shot to death in there and even if he does survive, he won’t have much of a life ahead of him, will he?”

“Enough.” He mumbled, but L didn’t stop.

“You know it. You know they wholeheartedly believe in that 13-days rule you made up. You know that lie is the only alibi in your hands that’s keeping Aizawa and the rest at bay. Which means… that even if tonight works out how you want it to and Mello is killed by your dad, then you’ll have to murder him in two weeks for your plan not to crumble-”

“That’s enough.” This time his voice came out firmly, and the ghost fell silent. “I’m just doing what needs to be done, L. I thought you of all people would understand that, after you confined and tortured Misa and me for days and even forced my dad to pretend to shoot me.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone. We are not the same-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Light cut him, every muscle in his body tense. His stare was hard, unyielding, when it locked with L’s. “You were perfectly willing to let a criminal use the Death Note to prove the 13-days rule was false. You admitted yourself that you were expecting me, Kira, to instantly kill my dad if he tried to shoot me, because you knew damn well I’d put my own life before his. His death was no more than a calculated risk to you. In fact, in your head, it was the most probable outcome.”

The detective fretted, and Light grinned maliciously. He hit home.

“See? We both do whatever it takes to get what we want. You’re not different from me. You’re not better than me. So, instead of pretending to be surprised by my methods, how about you leave me alone so I can work on getting my Death Note back?”

The silence that followed was smothering. Painfully so. L was no longer looking back at him, but staring through the window. He looked offended mostly, but also guilty. His expression was so open and so sincerely aching Light blinked. So this was how L truly felt about the decisions he took, back when he was alive.

“Fine.” The ghost muttered finally, as his form dissolved in the air and disappeared.

For a moment that sight filled him with pure dread, but then he realized, as his heartbeat settled down, that he could still feel L’s presence coating him. He wasn’t really gone, he had just temporarily left his visible expression.

Good. Light didn’t feel strong or stable enough to face him right now.

A few hours later, Soichiro Yagami died in a hospital bed, relieved to know his son wasn’t a mass murderer.

After returning the Death Note to its rightful owner –a Shinigami that called itself Sidoh– all the Task Force had left to do was wipe their tears away and wrap it up. The trip back to headquarters was silent. Light appreciated that everyone was too shook and devastated about his dad’s death to talk about it.

Once alone in his room, he was free to be himself again.

He began calmly taking his clothes off and getting ready for bed, but before he could invoke some self control, he was already screaming and punching a pillow while tears rolled down his face.

This had been his father’s fault. If he hadn’t been weak… if he had killed Mello instead of hesitating…!

“Why did you let yourself get killed, idiot?!” Light yelled, his throat aching. His hands, which were clutching the pillow with violence, trembled vehemently as his crying echoed through the room and his tears fell, abundantly and showing no signs of stopping. “You didn’t even get rid of him! Why?! You weren’t supposed to die! Y-You… you weren’t supposed to…”

A sob shook his whole body on its way out, and he collapsed on bed, his face buried in the wet pillow. Only soft whimpering could be heard.

Later, he felt the air shift, and electricity tickled him in the leg.

“I thought you were counting on his death.”

Light’s face was swollen from crying when he lifted it from the pillow to look at L’s figure, sitting next to him in the dark with his hand on Light’s thigh. The touch held no weight or warmth, nothing quite organic; just a tingle.

“He was destined to die.” He mumbled weakly as his gaze wandered to the opposite wall. “It’s as you said. Either tonight or within two weeks, he had to. What’s more pathetic is that he only lived for a few hours after doing the deal… which means… that even if he hadn’t done it, he didn’t have much time left in his clock to begin with. He would’ve passed away naturally by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Why are you crying, then?” L inquired softly, as his hand caressed up and down Light’s leg. “Because you couldn’t see Mello dead?”

Were other the context Light would’ve found the sparkly sensation bothersome –even embarrassing. He didn’t want to reach the level of feebleness that made him deserve L’s consolations. But that was not the case. The detective’s almost inexistent touch was comforting. Light closed his eyes, trying to remember what the real thing felt like, while fighting the devastating pang L’s question induced in him.

“My father’s death was inevitable. I know I did what I had to do. Still… that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. In an ideal setting, Aizawa, Ide or even Matsuda would’ve taken it upon themselves to do the deal and kill Mello.”

He sat up, feeling the warmth building behind his eyes as new tears accumulated.

“Then… I could’ve killed any of them easily. But he just had to be… so freaking moral. He had to sacrifice himself… why? Nobody would’ve judged him if he had let someone else do it, then why?! It was that same attitude that got him shot in the end!”

Furious, he wiped the tears away before they overflowed. It was the truth. Even when his father died a somewhat happy death, he would’ve preferred it had been anyone else in his place. Still…

Light’s breathing settled, and he looked L in the eyes with determination.

“However, when he stood with Mello in that room, and when the building exploded and all the cameras went blank… and even as he lay there dying… all I could think of was ‘kill Mello. Kill him for me. Don’t leave without taking him down with you’.”

The pain of actually losing his dad came a while after, and even then it had been tainted with frustration and resentment. He wanted Mello dead. That, together with retrieving the Death Note, had been the whole point of the mission, and he had failed because his father chose the worst possible scenario to be humanitarian.

Light hated the feeling. He lost, even though he did nothing wrong. He hated not having control over his own battles. He hated how his father had chosen to die without revenge. He hated Mello for being alive out there somewhere.

“Even if it had been someone else in his place, I know your methods well enough by now to know you won’t be able to hide your true self forever.” L placed a finger on his chin. Even though the gesture wasn’t useful in practice since he simply trespassed it, Light still raised his head to look at him “Eventually, you’ll be wiping all that is left of the Task Force. And then it won’t matter anymore that your dad died today.”

Yes. L was right. Light… would have killed Soichiro eventually. It was only natural to take that course of action. And Light would bite his tongue and choke on it before letting himself hesitate on that matter. L’s eyes as they regarded him were incredibly sad, but not surprised.

“Do you find me disgusting, L?” He asked, a wry smile taking over his lips even though he was terrified of the answer he’d get. The ghost shook his head.

“No, Light.” An incorporeal hand brushed over his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and leaned into the tingle. “I’m just trying to decipher whether you’re a remorseless psychopath faking the pain you show, or if you’re actually acting remorseless to hide how much you’ve wounded yourself. Either way… I find you pitiful.”

And Light wanted to be angry. He tried his best to feel rage, indignation… even shame. But he couldn’t find it in himself. He was empty.

“Maybe… you’re both.”

“Tell me, Light. Did Misa approve of this plan?”

“Shut up.” He scowled, fixing his tie in front of the mirror.

Of course the answer was no. If Misa ever found out about this then she would gouge out both his and Takada’s guts. Giving up her Death Note and passing it to Mikami didn’t really make her any less lethal.

“I thought so. Especially by the way you whispered sweet nothings into the phone earlier.”

“Look, L.” Light turned around to face the late detective. L had become so good at expressing a physical shape that, if it weren’t for the blur at the edges when he moved, Light could’ve believed he was actually standing there in flesh and bone. “Whatever I choose to do with my love life is not your business, especially if it has something to do with my plans as Kira.”

L narrowed his eyes. Whether or not he was judging Light was hard to say.

“You have no moral structure whatsoever, do you?”

“As previously established, you don’t have much of that either-”

“I know.” The ghost cut him, raising a hand. “And I admit I wouldn’t hesitate to do the exact same thing you’re about to do to gain a benefit, as you already know.” At that, Light looked away. The room was too dark for his blush to be discernible. “Still, your shamelessness continues to amaze me.”

He chuckled ironically, staring the specter down as if it had just dared him to do it.

“Aizawa will come to install the cameras and mics now. Once he begins, I’ll have a perfect excuse to ignore you for the next few hours.” Light opened the box on top of the coffee table and began pulling out wires. He then halted, a meditative twinkle in his eyes, and addressed L. “Actually, could you disappear? I don’t want to see you through the corner of my eye when I-”

“You know that I’ll still be here even if you can’t see me, right?”

“Ah, yes. I forgot you’re a prime voyeur.”

“Trust me; this is about the last place in the world I’d like to be in.” The detective retorted, and for some reason his voice had an irritated edge to it.

“I guess we both have to compromise, then. As long as you stay invisible and keep yourself from talking inside my head until I’m done here, I’ll make sure not to kick your ass in Hell.” Light satirically extended a hand to him. “Deal?”

L simply stared him back, scorn invading his whole expression, before disappearing. Light could feel he was mad –uncharacteristically so. Yes, Light had seen him in a foul mood many times, while they lived chained to each other and they both had to listen to Matsuda speak.

But whatever got him so on edge about tonight, Light had no idea.

In fact, L’s mood grew worse and worse as the night progressed. He didn’t notice it at first; It became a constant buzz in the back of his head after Light looked Takada in the eyes and said ‘I missed you’, so he managed to ignore it quite well. However, by the time all mics and cameras were disconnected, he realized L was on the verge of bursting.

Lately, L’s thoughts had grown more tangible, together with his physical shape. So much so they sometimes became suffocating. When L would forfeit his form and settle back inside his head, Light often had a hard time differentiating their mixed feelings.

In life, L had always been incredibly skilled in the art of preserving a cool semblance. Even when he had been visibly annoyed or angry, the way he carried himself always sold the idea that the matter in hand was no more than just a mild inconvenience for him.

“Listen, Kiyomi. I am the real Kira.”

Light would’ve never expected to come face to face with that bubbling rage.

Takada gasped in surprise.

“That’s right. I’m Kira.” He repeated, mostly to confirm she had heard him right, but also to assure himself against L’s violent, thundering emotions. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Takada didn’t respond immediately, so Light took the chance to raise the phone to his ear and wrap up the conversation with Mikami. “Listen. I won’t allow you to ask Kiyomi who I am; you don’t need to know my identity.”

“Yes. I’ll leave the rest to you, God.”

Bastard.

Light shook. It had been a while since he had last heard L’s voice inside his head. Didn’t he explicitly tell him not to do that?! He’d make sure to devote the rest of his life to researching a way to kill a ghost again. He hung up the phone and turned around to address Kiyomi, as he stifled down his irritation.

“Do you understand? I am Kira. The man who was on the phone, is one of my followers who I’ve shared my power with.”

Takada’s eyes lit up.

“I… I can’t believe it’s you!” She whispered in awe. “You are the only man I’ve ever really admired. To be honest… the only man I’ve ever felt a connection with.” L growled. “And now, to find out you’re Kira… it’s incredible.”

As planned, Light had Takada curled around his finger in no time. He would’ve been able to fully enjoy the sweet taste of victory if it weren’t for L’s sour invasion. Oh, but he wasn’t about to let that bloody ghost spoil his mood. Was he pissed off now? Then he was about to become completely infuriated.

Light stepped closer and willfully lowered his voice to a deep whisper as he cupped Takada’s cheek in his hand.

“Please… join me, Kiyomi. And you will be the goddess of the New World.”

“Light…” She immediately pulled him into an embrace he didn’t fail to return.

He smirked over her shoulder –he had her right where he wanted her… and she was about to have him right where she wanted him too.

When Light leaned down to kiss her, L’s wrath pulsed through him.

Two and a half hours later, Light finished doing his tie, put his coat on and exited the room. Takada had already left –it was best for both that they weren’t seen leaving the hotel together.

Everything was working out smoothly. He now had a connection to Mikami through her, which would make everything easier from now on. The annihilation of the whole Task Force, together with the SPK and Near were visible in the horizon. In a matter of days, there would be no one left in his way. He’d be the only, unquestioned God of his own New World.

Confident with his secured victory, Light pulled the phone out.

“Light! Are you okay?” Matsuda exclaimed. Of course they were worried, after losing all connection with him for over two hours.

“Yeah… Kiyomi was able to work things out with Kira. I decided that from now on, I’m gonna pretend to be dating her.” L, who had fallen unusually quiet for a while now, suddenly shifted uncomfortably inside of him. He smirked. “We might be able to find Kira that way.”

“Alright, if you say so…” Matsuda answered, and for the musicality in his voice it was clear to everyone that a) he had serious doubts Light was just pretending and b) he knew Light simply hadn’t spent the last two hours with Takada playing Monopoly.

Right after that, a smack could be heard. Matsuda whined out loud as Aizawa scolded him. Light rolled his eyes and hung up.

So you actually went and did it.

He stopped on his tracks, overwhelmed by how the voice reverberated inside him. He growled in annoyance.

“I told you not to do that!”

As an answer to his protest, L materialized in front of him. All the ire he had felt bubbling inside him left. It shook him to realize that L had turned back to his old –living– habits. The expression in his face was barely a washed-down version of the consuming wrath Light now knew inhabited him.

“Still manipulating women and using sex to get what you want, uh?”

“You say it like that’s the worst thing I’ve done.”

“Oh, no. Of course it isn’t.” L shook his head. When he narrowed his eyes, the gaze he bore was venomous. “When are you gonna kill her, then?”

Light gulped, glaring at him. He wanted to be surprised that L brought that up, but he couldn’t; he knew how vicious he could get. The ghost smiled back at him, even though the gesture held no warmth, sympathy or bliss whatsoever. It was a dry smile, filled to the brim with a wish to hurt.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Attachment and intimacy are alright as long as you can get something from it. As soon as the other person becomes a hindrance you dispose of them.” L spat. “So? How long until you murder Takada too?”

“I hate you, you know.” Light hissed. “I hate how you always talk like you know everything about everyone. I hate how hypocritical you are, going around making moral statements about other people when you were just as bad or even worse. And I hate how you are convinced that everything has to be about you!”

The ghost took a step back, and Light seized the opportunity to push further. They had already pulled each other down on the mud; they might as well fight.

“Maybe I just like sleeping with Takada. But… oh? Does that irritate you?” One look at the detective’s face told him he had hit the nail’s head. “Does it drive you crazy, that it’s her and not you?”

“This is nonsense. Stop talking before you humiliate yourself.” L growled, earning himself a barking laugh from the other.

“Come on. I felt it. I felt how your blood boiled when she embraced me. Admit it.” The ghost stood there, and said nothing. Suddenly intoxicated with rage and something close to desperation, Light walked up to him and reached out to grab his arm. He grabbed nothing. “Admit you’re jealous.”

“How…” for the first time ever, the specter’s voice came out so terrifyingly low it sent chills down his spine. “… am I supposed to be jealous, when we both know you’re just using her? We both know she’ll soon be dead meat. She isn’t getting anything I haven’t gotten already.”

Light shivered, unable to talk through the knot in his throat.

 “You can’t fool me, Light. I see everything, remember? Goddess of the New World… How many times have you used that trick on Misa this month?”

“Shut up.” The words were no more than a tremulous whisper. It was mortifying.

“Then how about this very week?” L pressed, and even though Light couldn’t feel a breath meet his face, he still stepped back, looking hurt. When he replied, his words were calm with bitterness.

“So now we’re pretending you’re not the same?”

It happened often during the lapse of time Light had to cope with L cuffed to his wrist and without his memories of the Death Note. He’d constantly be shaken awake by nightmares that didn’t seem his own. Sometimes the startling would be soft enough to simply wake him up, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep without disturbing L. And sometimes, like that time, he’d physically jump on bed and find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He sat up and looked to his left –by his side, L slept soundly, curled into a ball with his knees to his chest, the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the pillow giving off an expression of peace.

Light sighed deeply as he wiped sweat off his face and neck. He wouldn’t mind being able to lock himself up in the toilet, but handcuffs. He directed his energy into staying still and steadying his breath instead.

“Another nightmare?”

Light blinked. So L wasn’t even half as asleep as he pretended to. He looked at him from below, his face still half-buried in his pillow. It was way too adorable –Light looked away.

“Yes.” The detective sat up too, the sheets sliding down his torso.

“What was it about?”

“I… stood on top of a very tall building.” He narrated, his gaze lost somewhere in the shadows that inhabited the room. “Below, at ground level, people were screaming. I wanted to look down to see what was happening to them, but I was too afraid. Then, from behind… a tall massive shadow hovered over me. It’s silhouette wasn’t that of a human. The thing laughed; that wasn’t human either. I tried to look over my shoulder, and was pushed off the building. I fell. The screaming grew closer…. and I woke up.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Is that all?” L inquired quietly. A crease took shape between Light’s brows, and he fixed his stare on his lap.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid enough to not be able to deduce what you think my dream represents. But, Ryuzaki…” He formed fists with his fingers to keep them from fidgeting, and raised his eyes to L’s. “I can’t be… I don’t remember ever doing any of that. And I know. I know people can do the unspeakable when pushed to the limit, but I’d never kill on my own free will.”

“Light…” L hesitated, and then crawled across the bed to reach out and grab one of the towels from a nearby hanger. When he crawled back, he pressed it to Light’s face. “There is a chance Kira somehow possessed you during that period. In that case, you wouldn’t have been in control of your own actions.”

His tone was soft, but it wasn’t enough to conceal his real thoughts. Light smiled sadly as L wiped the sweat off his neck.

“But you don’t think I was possessed.” He spoke the truth nobody wanted to acknowledge. L stopped drying him. “You’re certain I was the original Kira. Even now, you must be wondering whether I’ve been bluffing ever since I was inside that cell. You’re probably thinking all this is just part of an act; some greater scheme on my behalf.”

The detective didn’t respond immediately. They looked at each other for several seconds; when he did, his words were grave with the amount of seriousness the statement deserved.

“I am.”

Light nodded. He didn’t really blame L for thinking that. He, too, was slowly getting more and more obsessed with the idea that he might have been, indeed, Kira. Yes, the justice system was flawed. But if he had had Kira’s power, would he had actually used it like Kira did?

“I understand.” He replied. “You’re just doing your job. And I want to help however I want. I want to reach the bottom of this, and cleanse my name. It’s just…” Light sighed and scratched his head. Saying it was much more awkward than he had anticipated. “I really wish it could have been different.”

“What?”

“My relationship with you.”

His heart was beating like crazy, but he had already begun talking. The rest gurgled out and he couldn’t restrain it.

“I wish I could’ve stood on equal ground with you when I met you; with me being a detective, not the prime suspect for the greatest mass murder of the decade. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you, without all the games and the lies. We could’ve held conversations that didn’t feel like interrogations. You’re very smart, and determined.” His face was burning up now, but he kept on talking. “Even though that shouldn’t be good, considering you suspect me… I admire that a lot.”

Their eyes locked, and Light’s stomach turned.

“I admire you.”

For a long while, L didn’t move or react at all; instead of widening eyes or abrupt exclamations, that was how the mighty detective processed shock. It was pretty embarrassing for Light, though. The blush crept to his ears and neck, and he was about to roll over and pretend none of that ever happened, when L cleared his throat. A soft, pink shade took over his pointy cheekbones.

“You admire me.” He reiterated, as if not completely believing it. Light would’ve found it funny had he not been focused in his racing pulse. He nodded… and L gulped. The detective raised a hand and brushed a strand of brunet hair away from his eyes. “Do you only admire me?”

“I…”

“How else do you feel about me?” His finger curled around Light’s ear. His voice was soft, but deep. “Tell me.”

“Not all is good.” He admitted, too distracted by the touch to watch his words. “Sometimes I hate you. So much I want to punch you-”

“Yes, you have done that.” That made him laugh.

“Yeah… it’s because I hate it when you prod me for a confession I can’t give you. And when you say things like ‘it’s pointless to keep on trying’, when my name is in as much of a stake as your title, and when you’ve already done too much to me to just dismiss it like that. I hate being reminded that you only see me as a potential murderer; that you were lying when you said we were friends… And I hate being unable to accept your kindness without thinking you’re playing with me, because I-”

Crap. That was close. He barely managed to bite his tongue before he spurted something dangerous. But L, being L, simply wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. The detective scooted closer –their legs were touching, and they were breathing the same air. Light’s heart fluttered. L’s fingers on his cheek were cold compared to the flushed skin beneath.

“Because?” L whispered, and Light’s gaze fell on his lips, fascinated by their shape, the cadence with which they moved, their invisible, indescribable allure.

Don’t make me say it if you already know. That was what he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t speak. He barely had a moment to process what was happening and take a breath before L closed the distance between them and delicately sealed their lips together.

Light held his breath and sat, static, as his mind was filled with the subtle, tingling sensation of L’s mouth caressing his. That alone was enough to make his heart pound hard against his ribcage. It was a soft kiss; plush, barely more substantial than the brush of a finger. When the man pulled away –only one inch, just enough to end the contact–, their lips separated with a quiet pop.

Light’s whole body was tingling, and he had to forcefully stifle down the urge to tremble that was building steadily in the pit of his stomach. He breathed out, and in, and out; shallowly. He didn’t want to risk inhaling any more of L’s scent.

He should have backed off. Gone back to sleep and pretended that never happened. It would have been wiser. Instead, he remained still and did not oppose L’s movements when the detective cupped his nape and angled his face into another kiss.

It was a deeper one this time, given how their mouths were briefly open. Moisture quickly built up over his upper lip as he felt L’s lower lip seductively pressing against his teeth. Light closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Swiftly, without letting the chance slip by, the man expertly locked their jaws together and entered Light’s warm mouth with his tongue.

A soft gasp that escaped him and coated L’s lips, and then transformed into a barely audible whine. It was inevitable. He couldn’t fight the trembling anymore. He felt feverish all over. Touch-starved and about to burst. His tongue tingled when L’s caressed it, and it filled him with desire and a deep-rooted desperation. He changed his angle to reciprocate the man’s movements, their lips now moving in unison as they sank deeper into each other.

Nobody had ever… not like this. Misa’s kisses weren’t necessarily bad, but they were always messy and indelicate-

L’s free hand began travelling up his thigh, and the spasm that triggered on the muscles of his leg was so powerful Light jolted backwards, and the trance was broken. Out of breath, he searched the detective’s face, and looked away when he realized he could only focus on the blush in his cheeks, the intensity of his gaze and the moist spot on his lower lip.

“Ryuzaki-”

“What’s wrong, Light?”

He bit his lip. L’s voice was still deep, but it was gradually acquiring a sharp edge. Now more than ever, he knew he shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What about Misa? Even if she never finds out…”

He shyly searched the man’s face again. L held still for a moment, as he considered his words. Slowly, he seemed to assimilate them. He nodded, and cupped Light’s face again.

“Then… you can hold me accountable for it.” L whispered, and dived back in. That time their mouths locked together even more naturally, and although Light’s whole body was brimming with the urge to give in to the kiss, he still couldn’t brush off the feeling that it was wrong.

Disrespecting Misa, playing with her feelings for him… he wasn’t like that. And the fact that he had to instruct himself to feel guilty about it only brought him self-disgust. He turned his face to the side, and L’s lips slid away from his. The detective didn’t waste over a mere second to understand that this –whatever it was– would not drag any longer.

“Could it be that you were pretending to be interested in me?” He inquired.

Light flinched. His words stung more than he could’ve predicted.

“Do you think I’d do that? You know what, don’t answer. Either way, this… it’s not fair on Misa. I told you I would never use a woman’s feelings to my advantage, so don’t make me betray myself-”

“You don’t love her.” Light gulped. “You don’t even know why you are with her, do you.” L’s gaze grew harder as he went from appreciating Light to analyzing him; a shift Light himself was all too familiar with. “You forgot… together with everything else-”

“That’s enough.” He cut him, his voice coming out firmer than he had expected, and brushed L’s hands off his face. “I’m not about to believe I am a murderer. And Misa isn’t either. I’m not what you think I am, Ryuzaki.”

That being said, Light rolled over and pulled the covers over himself, signaling the end of the conversation. What they just did… it was better off forgotten. As things were now, stubbornly trying to follow that path would only bring pain, regardless of Light turning out to be Kira or not, and regardless of his feelings for Misa and the man. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Light wasn’t already aching over it, but he’d never admit to it.

After a good five minutes of complete stillness, L finally tucked himself in bed, he too giving his back to Light, and before drifting to sleep he murmured:

“If it’s worth something, I really hope you weren’t.”

Yes. The memory of that night’s events, no matter how long gone, was very fresh in their minds. Though, just like the nightmares had been back then, the Light from the present didn’t quite feel that it belonged to him.

When he lost the Death Note… it was crazy. He became a completely different person. It wasn’t just about not remembering being Kira; it reached the point where thinking of what Kira had done revolted him to the core. Then he began questioning himself, doubting his own innocence, and came to realize he could understand his actions to some extent. He used to think the world was rotten before Kira entered the picture, and he still did during the Yotsuba period.

However, the retrieval of the Death Note carved a crack in his moral system he didn’t remember ever sealing. He went back to his old ways, used Misa just like the dangerously volatile tool he had always seen her as. He used everyone, including Rem, a God. Thinking back, it made sense L was suspicious of his most tender side; the Light he was now would have definitely tried to seduce L if he had seen some utility in it.

Kira would have never fallen for the detective.

Even so… what he had felt back then had been real. He did fall for him. And he was given a chance to shatter that burden when he got his memories back –his priority went back to being himself, and L was simply an obstacle–, but this was the first time he let himself think about what could have been, and he found out his feelings weren’t shattered at all.

It still ached.

“Didn’t you do that just to test me?” Light said, accusingly. “You thought I was acting it out, didn’t you. You had to see for yourself how far I’d take it.”

L didn’t kiss him because he felt something for him; he did it to see if he would recoil. In fact, the way he rejected the man in the end was probably interpreted as a positive result.

The ghost didn’t need to answer –Light could see the admission in his face.

“I pretty much confessed to you.” He looked away. That was in the past now. It should have been. L was dead. Then why did he still feel so bitter about it? “And you didn’t even care. You were too busy studying me like a bloody scientist.”

“Can you blame me?” He couldn’t. “Besides, that is not entirely true.”

Confused and untrusting, Light locked eyes with the ghost. L sighed.

“I do admit I didn’t believe it at first –it was too convenient. But I never gave you any hints I was romantically interested in you, and I couldn’t have imagined you were. Therefore, I didn’t understand why you resorted to that method if you just wanted to manipulate me. I began to wonder if it had been for real; but before I could question you further on the subject it was too late. We captured Higuchi, and it didn’t take me long to notice that you… changed.”

Light’s stare landed on his feet. He believed L; he was dead and didn’t need to lie. What if the detective had said something before they cornered Higuchi? It was pointless to dwell on it, since Light was certain he would have killed him in the end. The world needed L to die so Kira could reign. In retrospect, it was a good thing he didn’t, since he allowed Light to move forward with his heart unscathed.

Or so he thought, before all the pain he wasn’t even aware existed inside him through the years came back to bite at him. He hated it. Despising L was easier than this.

“Why are you telling me this?” He bit back, arms crossed as he returned L’s gaze, his ache now obvious in his features. “If I had broken into tears back then and told you I still felt the same way for you, would you have let me go? Would you have risked trusting me? No, you wouldn’t have given me a chance-”

“I did give you a chance. That’s how I know Takada is as good as dead now.”

Light’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean…

“That time…”

It had been the night after Higuchi’s capture. He had his memories back, and L had, according to the Task Force’s wishes, begrudgingly agreed to dispose of the handcuffs that had bound them together for months. Light was allowed to spend the night in his own room, alone, for the first time in what seemed ages. However, he couldn’t sleep.

It must have been because the excitement at seeing his plan work out perfectly had been too great. Or maybe he had grown used to having someone else lie next to him. His bed seemed huge to the eye and cold to the touch, even though it was the same size as the previous one and both rooms’ thermostats shared the same settings.

He was pacing around aimlessly when he heard a knock on the door. It was L. But Light didn’t get to talk to him, for the man immediately raised his dark eyes to Light’s and determinedly jumped him, pulling him into a ravenous kiss. And before nobody could get in the way, the door was slammed shut and they were in bed.

This could work for my advantage, Light had thought as he gave in without a care for the world. He had wanted it for so long, anyway. In the end, it had been a good way to release pent-up frustrations and unnecessary feelings, and no sweet words or pathetic confessions were exchanged.

“I woke up, alone.” He recalled. “You had gone out to the roof, even though it was pouring. That’s where I found you.”

Right now, Ghost L looked just as sad and decidedly hopeless as he had looked back then. Light could even imagine the rain dripping down his face and dampening him whole in between one blink and the next. Later, at the staircase, L had smiled sadly and said ‘It will be lonely, won’t it? You and I will be parting ways soon’.

He couldn’t have predicted that wouldn’t really ever happen. Still…

“Back then… you already knew you’d die, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” L nodded solemnly.

“But why? I… I gave you my consent. We-”

“Exactly. I knew you disposed of people as soon as you stopped finding them a use. By letting me have you the night before, you were clearly trying to manipulate me. If you had been the same Light I’d been handcuffed to for months –if you had felt strongly enough not to kill me– you would have rejected me. But you didn’t resist or hesitate. Not even when I-”

“Enough.” He breathed. He felt like he was choking. So that was why L had called him a liar back at the roof. The detective had seen right through him… the whole time. But… he was missing a vital piece. A thunder resonated in the distance.

“I invited you to use me. And you did.” L concluded, a small smile forming in his lips without reaching his eyes. The first few droplets began falling.

He had to say it. If he didn’t say it now, he never would.

“Yes, I admit it.” Light lowered his head. The rain grew stronger above him. “I wanted to manipulate you, just as much as you wanted to call me out for it.” Then he raised his chin to look straight into the ghost’s eyes, water rolling down his face as he spoke up. His voice came out broken. “But that’s not all it was, and you know it.”

L’s specter froze, his eyes slowly gaining focus. Light, on the other side, let out a long exhalation. The aching deep in the pit of his stomach didn’t really yield, but shifted. A weight had been lifted; one he couldn’t claim back even if he wanted to.

“Are you saying you truly wanted me?” L breathed out, as if worried that raising his voice would disturb the atmosphere. However, he looked more aghast than hopeful.

“No.” He shook his head, his expression softer. “I’m saying we wanted each other.”

There was silence, and rain. L stood there, petrified as the falling drops trespassed him without disturbing his clothing or his black messy hair. And with every second that he spent with his wide, desperate eyes glued on him, Light’s heart beat faster. Harder.

He had to wait until the man was already dead, but he finally did it.

He finally confessed.

“Won’t you… say something?” He whispered.

L opened his mouth… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I…” The ghost looked away, and Light realized then how utterly devastated he was. His voice quavered. “I can’t.”

And then he disappeared.

…

Wait.

Why… why couldn’t Light feel him… he was always able to feel him when he vanished, then why?

No.

No… No.

“L…” Nobody answered. “L!!!!!” It was useless.

L wasn’t there. All there was, was silence and rain.

Events continued to develop without further disturbance. He met up with Takada several times –with the Task Force listening, so he didn’t try anything–, and passed his instructions to Mikami. The SPK found out about Mikami and tried to tamper with his Note, so a fake Note was crafted. Everything was going according to plan.

Even Mello’s decision to kidnap Takada, though unexpected, worked out perfectly for him, as he managed to dispatch both of them easily. He had been waiting to see Mello dead since the explosion. As for Takada, he was relieved to take that weight off his back. And he would have actually been able to be a hundred percent remorseless about it had he not remembered his conversation with a certain deceased someone.

As for L… he didn’t return. No matter what Light did or how awful he became, L didn’t manifest, talk inside his head, or give any other signal whatsoever of still existing. And Light had expected it to hurt… maybe he wanted to feel hurt. But he was too empty to feel nothing other than rage, and greed. All that occupied his mind was Near, and their encounter at the warehouse. He was too busy with conquering the world to feel lonely.

Still, some nights he’d surprise himself yelling at the top of his lungs at a soul that no longer tailed him. He’d yell stuff like ‘Aren’t you going to show yourself?!’. There never was an answer.

Then the day came. Mikami did his job perfectly, so much so Light physically struggled to avoid bursting into laughter ahead of time. And right when he was feeling giddy with victory, desperate to rub his success in Near’s juvenile face as the boy’s heart failed… everything was gone. It slipped from between his fingers as easily as the seconds ticked away in his watch.

He didn’t go down without a fight. First, he desperately attempted to accuse the SPK of framing him, and when that didn’t work, he used the truth. The mask he had carefully crafted crumpled. In a feverish, delusional moment of revelation that lacked little to reach hysteria, he gave the greatest speech of his whole life; he shared with them the legacy he had tried to leave behind, hoping they would understand. Even so, Near still called him a crazy serial killer, nothing more, and nothing less.

He had his watch with a piece of the Note inside, but he could have never calculated that Matsuda would shoot him; repeatedly. When he fell to a puddle on the floor and Matsuda stood over him, tears streaking down his betrayed face as he glared and aimed his gun at his head… Light realized how badly he had screwed up.

He could have died. That man could have killed him in a mere instant. Even through the multiple layers of tortuous pain his fresh bullet wounds were inflicting on him, he only had the mental capacity to process that gut-deep, swiping fear.

He called for Mikami… but the man was of no use. So he simply lay there in his puddle as it changed its color from transparent to red. He gasped for air, and cried out.

“Where are you, Misa?!” He had used her, and left her at home, deprived of her memories. “Where’s Takada?!” He had killed her. His actions finally settled fully on him, and tears swelled at the corners of his eyes.

Someone… w-what do I do n-now…

…

L…

Mikami stabbed himself, and Light wasn’t about to grow out of old habits. He used his follower one last time, to crawl to his feet and escape while everybody else focused on the bloodshed.

He ran. As fast as he could, with his body bent over in pain and his injured arm hanging like dead weight by his side. Every step was excruciating to take, and every gasping breath was more difficult to inhale than the one that preceded it, but he didn’t stop. He knew his legs would give in soon. The blood loss was taking an exponential toll on his body. He kept on running, even though it was futile.

Every decision he had made up to that point, only now he could see how they had stuck to him like parasites. He had been rotting away ever since he picked the Note. Ryuk… had been right. In Kira’s crimeless world… the only rotten apple left was him.

However, if he had been given the chance to go back to being that seventeen-year-old, naïve boy he once was, he wouldn’t have taken it.

His running slowed down to walking; he had lost Aizawa and the rest long ago. By the time he reached the abandoned building, he could hardly stay on his feet. He sprawled himself on the stairs… and then he felt it.

It coated over him. It felt like coming back home after what seemed forever.

Hello, Light.

Tears overflowed his eyes. He could have never imagined that his voice would bring him such intense joy.

“L…” he whimpered. “Y-You’re back-”

The specter materialized before him… weird. He looked more corporeal than he ever had before. Or was it just that Light had forgotten how he had looked after so long? There was some sort of ethereal blue aura around him, though, which hadn’t been there before. And he was smiling… fondly.

“You don’t look too well.”

Light laughed, which made him cough and wince in pain.

“Missed you too?” He retorted sarcastically, and it lacked most of its usual bite. Everything, even just raising his head to look L in the eyes, felt awful, but he did it all the same. “I thought… you were gone for good.”

“And give you the pleasure?” The detective grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Never.”

“Good.” He replied, relaxing and smiling at last.

It was at that moment that his heart hammered through his chest… once. Burning pain irradiated in all directions from there. He felt the tingle taking over every inch of his body as his vision blurred and his focus faded.

“W-What…” The pain, suddenly, stopped. All at once. He jerked to his feet, utterly confused, only to realize he didn’t feel the pressure of a floor beneath his feet anymore. L was staring at him wide-eyed. Whatever he saw had him flabbergasted. Light looked over his shoulder… at his own limp body, lying on the stairs and with no soul in its eyes. And he understood. “Ryuk…”

He shook at the incorporeal sound of his own voice.

“That makes two of us, I guess.” L mused, walking over to face him. “Welcome to the realm of the dead, Light.”

“I’m…” He stood still, having a hard time processing it. Then, slowly… a sparkling sensation in his stomach bubbled up, and he giggled. The smile he gave to L was radiant, as he reached out to him.

And as if things couldn’t get any more amazing, when his inexistent fingers landed on the man’s chest… there was resistance to oppose them. Solid, and warm.

“L!” He beamed, patting the other repeatedly. “I can touch you… I’m touching you!”

“Yes. Yes you are.” L confirmed, laughing too. He was bedazzled. “I feel you…”

The moment after, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing. It shouldn’t have felt this real, but it did. Light could even perceive a hint of L’s scent when he dug his face into raven hair.

“You’re here…” He squeezed harder. “What happened? Why did you disappear? Where did you go?”

“I was always here. I was just in such conflict with myself I couldn’t reach out to you.” The man murmured against his shoulder. “I get it now… this was my mission all along. I was supposed to be here, to welcome you when you passed away. Everything makes sense now…”

Light pulled away. He needed to look L in the eyes.

“So, a moment ago…” He hesitated for a moment that didn’t last too long. “When you spoke to me. Was I able to hear you because I was agonizing, or-”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” L shook his head, and smiled. “I finally found an answer to my conflict. To my feelings for you.”

Light blinked, finally understanding. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel butterflies in his stomach given how he no longer had internal organs, but he did.

“What I said that time…”

“You wrecked me.” L joked, and cupped Light’s face in his hands. When their eyes locked, his were full of devotion. “But you were right. I shouldn’t have, you were a mass murderer not to mention my nemesis, but I did want you. More than you can imagine.”

Light reached up, to fondly caress L’s knuckles.

“L, I loved you.” He swallowed, and leaned into the warm touch. “I… still do. Even after everything.”

“Me too.” The man whispered back, and for the first time, Light heard him go weak.“Even after everything.”

He grabbed him by the collar and locked their lips together. He melted into the kiss, trembling feverishly. He had missed this sensation so much he could barely stand it. The plush, wet and enticing brush of their lips soon grew hungrier, starving, even though they were both smiling into it. And it felt, both literally and metaphorically, more real than any other touch they had ever shared, dead or alive.

Then, they slowly began crumbling away. The kiss was broken as they both stared down. It began at their feet –they were dissolving into iridescent specs of dust that caught the light, and then into nothing. Gradually, it crawled up their shins, reaching their knees, and thighs.

But it wasn’t painful, or scary. Neither of them was scared. It was very peaceful. But just in case he didn’t get another chance, Light pressed every part of him that remained to L’s shape.

“L…” He breathed against the man’s mouth. “Are… are you even real? Or have you just been a product of my imagination all this time?”

L looked puzzled for a moment, but then he simply smiled.

“Does it even matter at this point?”

Light looked him in the eyes, as their torsos began to fade, and felt it deep within himself. He took L’s face in his hands, even though the tips of his fingers were disappearing too.

“No.” He concluded, and leaned in for one last loving kiss which L reciprocated.

And after that, nothing.

[gotatext]

hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. i couldn’t stay away.... hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse. fyi sorry for those of u who have read this intro a thousand times i literally.... can never b bothred to change it n i think thats really sexy of me x

CHARLIE PLUMMER / DEMI-BOY — don’t look now, but is that rory bergström  i see? the 23 year old music student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, impassioned, self-indulgent and nitpicky, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he / they will make a name for themselves living in griffin street. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. rory don’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all!! slippin out of his physical form into the spirit realm! isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but currently feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it!!!!

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

occasionally deals weed n pills when strapped for cash, but only 2 ppl he knows, and on a very small scale grass-roots level!! (so its ok???) rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car. we love to see it

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

actually i think rory had sex w delilah in the last version of this rp so if u want a hook up plot its possible just unlikely. they’d hav 2 be the driving force i reckon cos rory doesn’t really act on impulses like desire or anythin.... jst bottles that shit up !!! but yea we could do a spicy hook up plot maybs, depending on the person

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[uptightcitizensbrigade]

How St. Vincent's New Album Captures a Planet — and a Person — in Crisis

I'm seated with four other individuals in a room at the W Hotel. Before us, resplendent in an oversize gold jacket with matching gold boots, is Annie Clark, better known in the music world as St. Vincent. She's talking about her fifth studio album, Masseduction, as she plays a handful of tracks on a nearby laptop computer. "It's about sex and power and sadness," she says, swiveling in her chair. 

Clark, 35, first entered the music world as St. Vincent a full decade ago. Marry Me dropped in 2007, establishing the artist as a sweet-singing siren with a wild and electric sound to back her up. When I first listened to St. Vincent, I introduced her to my friends as a "punk rock Disney princess." In my own mind, I envisioned her beguiling all the creatures in a mystical forest . . . before setting it on fire.

"Are you feeling a jam?" she asks the room. We've collected in an intimate hospitality room next to the W Hollywood's sound suite, which houses an actual professional recording studio in the hotel. St. Vincent has just finished a photo shoot in the mini studio; we're set to go on a small tour after she takes off. For now, we get to have a small listening party where she'll play a few select songs from Masseduction and answer our questions.

She decides to lead with "Los Ageless," one of the singles that was released in September. It's only appropriate; we're literally in the heart of Tinseltown. When someone points out how very aptly St. Vincent seems to be channeling Los Angeles for the event, she kicks up her boots. "They scream LA, right? They look completely appropriate for this space."

While the rhythm and melody of "Los Ageless" is both intoxicating and electrifying, the lyrics are noticeably sad. "How can anybody have you and lose you and not lose their minds, too?" she asks. As the song winds down, she mumbles, "I try to tell you I love you, but it comes out all sick." It's this balance of highs and lows that really helps Masseduction shine. As the walls vibrate, surrendering to the rumbles of the huge hotel speakers, St. Vincent listens, swiveling slightly in her chair.

This sort of nauseating euphoria has been present in St. Vincent's entire musical catalog. On her second album, 2009's Actor, you'll find a perfect example. "Black Rainbow" starts sweet, with a light meandering flute sound driving most of the rhythm. As the song continues, the ominous, deep bass takes over until the final 90 seconds, when an intense electrical guitar slowly plunges the song into certain insanity. It's dazzling shows of artistry like that which have really carved out a musical space for her career.

When pressed about the dynamic between sex, power, and sadness in her work, the indie-pop songstress is quick to elaborate on the different levels featured in the album. "Sex and power, they can equal many things. They can equal surrender or they can equal intimacy," she tells us. "What, again, the culture is looking at now is the dark side of that, which is sadness, tragedy . . . there's a whole lot to kind of unpack culturally. We're at a moment that probably we should've exactly been at a number of years ago. But I do think that we're disassembling and reassembling what power is and who wields it. I really do feel that way."

After "Los Ageless," I ask if we can listen to one of my favorite songs on the album. "Happy Birthday, Johnny" is a classic combination: it's heartbreaking and beautiful. It's so specific, but it casts a wide net of emotional understanding. It also features Johnny, a figure who's appeared on and off throughout St. Vincent's entire musical career.

On her debut album Marry Me, she spends the title track begging a man, John, to marry her. "I'll be so good to you," she insists. "You won't realize I'm gone." On her 2014 self-titled album, she calls him "Prince Johnny." On Masseduction, Johnny seems to be at his lowest point yet. But who is he? Is he an amalgam of all the heartbreaks in St. Vincent's life? Is he metaphor for something bigger?

"I wish Johnny was a metaphor," she says, laughing. "No, the third of the Johnny trilogy . . . I think that some people are — like, tragedy is baked into them. But they also exist in this plane where they burn brighter than other people. So they also could burn out. And those are the kinds of people who break your heart time and time again, but you love them more at the same time. So that's about John again." 

With her admissions about Johnny, St. Vincent has shown her hand, if only in part. While it's true that Masseduction captures the bleak outlook that seems to be a part of 2017's zeitgeist, there's still a deeply personal aspect that seems to stem directly from the artist.

Though you'd be hard-pressed to identify the "Johnny" in her life, some of the singer's more recent romances have been a bit more public. St. Vincent began dating Cara Delevingne in 2015; the two were together until splitting in September 2016. (I'd suggest that "New York," the first single from Masseduction, is about Delevingne.) Though St. Vincent reportedly, briefly dated Kristen Stewart in October 2016, her romantic exploits have mostly managed to slip under the radar. Maybe it's because she's now in "deep nun mode," which she explained to The Guardian during a recent interview.

Romantic endeavors aside, St. Vincent doesn't necessarily cop to the idea that her new album is about her personal heartbreaks and sadness. Well, at least not overtly. "It's not a diary, because it's art or pop music or whatever, but it's very first-person. It's very much speaking to my own experience," she admits. "Which, sometimes, is to feel powerful. Or, you find yourself wielding power in ways that aren't particularly graceful. And then some of it would be definitely like being powerless. Powerless in the face of love or sex or drugs or whatever it is, kind of dealing with those forces that can swallow you whole if you're not keeping it together."

After the sorrow surrounding Johnny, St. Vincent next plays "Pills," another upbeat track that's almost delirious in its frantic pace. "Pills" is especially pertinent to the twisted yin and yang of being powerful and powerless. The manic guitar hearkens back to her previous albums.

In retrospect, it's easy to see how each of the musician's albums begets the next. The insane parts of Actor certainly bleed into the conflicting bitterness and sweetness on 2012's Strange Mercy. I mean, St. Vincent literally portrays a Gulliver-sized statue that shatters to dust in her "Cheerleader" music video. On 2014's self-titled St. Vincent, there are unmistakable references to the kind of dystopian vibes and global sadness she explores in Masseduction. I mean, just watch Digital Witness and tell me it's not a prologue for the "Los Ageless" video.

Once "Pills" ends, she opens up about where she was when she started writing the album. Her answer was entirely unexpected.

"The first song I wrote for it was 'Smoking Section,' which is the last song on the record, which is pretty bleak. I'm being really honest . . . It's one of those ones that my mom hears and asks me if I'm OK," she says with another laugh. "Yeah, it was on the Eastern Block, the former Soviet-occupied territory I was in. I was driving from the Czech Republic to Latvia and we had to skirt around Belarus . . . . long story short, it was a long bus ride."

While the song is admittedly dark, it's still her favorite song on the album. "I think that one . . . went through a lot of trying on different clothes to be recorded. I love that one."

With so much talk about the album's final song, it's only appropriate to end the event by playing it. Before she does, she returns to the previous notion about how the album is so personal and universal at the same time. "I have that emotional experience," she says, referring to the moments that inspired each song. "So it just seems like that's transposable. A friend of mine was telling me this great Kurt Vonnegut quote, the other day. 'Write just for one person, because if you write for the world, your idea will get pneumonia and die,' or something like that." She lets out another laugh. "You can look it up online, I just butchered it. But the idea, that if you can write truthfully about . . . your personal experience, that's going to be transposable to other people."

St. Vincent has been seated in front of us for the whole listening party, more or less. I think she got up to get a drink. But for this final song, the final song on the album — which seems to me like the very heart of the album, a track that synthesizes all of St. Vincent's pain — she opts not to stay. "I feel like I'll press play on this and then maybe I won't sit in front of you while you listen to it." She lets out one last laugh, starts the song, and leaves as the lyrics start. "Sometimes I sit in the smoking section . . . "

[stevecanmakeanythingnerdy]

RANDOM RECORD WORKOUT SEASON 5 Battle 13 UFO: Nowhere to Run (Side 1) Vs. Man or Astroman?: Experiment Zero (Side A ) UFO: Nowhere to Run (Side 1 ) UFO are an English rock band that was formed in London in 1969.[2] They became a transitional group between early hard rock and heavy metal and the new wave of British heavy metal. They have had a slew of revolving members in their nearly 48 yeas of rocking. Most notable among them are Michael Schenker from The Scorpions fame. No Place to Run is the 8th studio release by the band and came out in January, 1980. Produced by the former Beatles producer, George Martin, No Place To Run failed to match up to the success of its predecessors, though it fractionally missed the UK Top 10. UFO were a stranglehold in the late 70's/early 80's arena rock era. They embraced the keyboard full on and made solid gold with it. In fact, the band is most known for Schenker's home away from home, but bassist Pete Way and keyboardist Phil Moog (yes, ACTUAL NAME, no joke) fill in the blanks here. "Alpha Centauri" starts off the party with a two minute instro intro. "Lettin' Go" kicks in with it's A/C D/C style rock riffage. "Mystery Train" really has an almost "stairway to heaven" nod in the acoustic noodling by Paul Chapman. Apparently it must be a prerequisite to have a "P" in your name to join UFO...unless you are in The Scorpions. It s a blues fest all the way, switching to punky. Their 8th studio effort (ALL of side one it seems) builds to crescendo in these last two tracks. It is a surprisingly quick album too, really. "This Fire Burns Tonight" is a power rock glider. Good traction on this one. "Gone in the Night" closes out the album's first side in another slow crush, this time with synthesized piano. I don't know if UFO are extra terrestrials, but they are sure out of this world! Man or Astroman?: Experiment Zero (Side A ) Man or Astro-man? is a surf rock group that formed in Auburn, Alabama, in the early 1990s and came to prominence over the following decade. Now, that is a human observation. If you ask the group, you may get an entirely different interpretation. In interviews, they insist they are extraterrestrials sent to Earth to play surf music. (See, UFO, you missed the boat!). Man or Astro-man? Is known for their blending of traditional 60's surf music (imagine Dick Dale) with the high octane energy of punk rock. Equally impressive is the dedication to science fiction themes, audio samples, and obscure electronic devices (such as theremins and tesla coils). You are only doing yourself a disservice if you pass up one of their highly, energy intense live performances. The uniqueness doesn't stop there either. This band is so creative, they literally (well, OK, perhaps not "literally" ) cloned themselves in 1998 and 1999 to tour simultaneously in different parts of the globe. I can promise you this: you have never heard anything like them before, and you WILL love it. I had the chance to witness them live twice, and both sets were utterly jaw dropping and fun. See, not only do you see a live band performance, you become part of the show through science and interaction. They bring a thousand pieces of equipment to enhance the stage show too, showing sci-fi video, etc. It is elaborate and awesome!!!! This album is one of the last "regular" albums and before they began to experiment more with synthesizers and electronica. I was so obsessed with this band for a time, I wanted to form my own, very similar band. I was able to get the beginning stages together through a fellow I met which eventually led to a different project that became the relationship for a band I STILL play in today! So, Thanks MOAM!!! I cannot overstate enough how incredibly fucking amazing this band is!! "Stereo Phase Test" begins the sequence and is a great opener, as it is strictly a theme setter. They do actually phase left and right to "test" your equipment. Thanks in part to this "song"(?), I know now my speakers are properly adjusted. "Television Fission" is next and very true to form, a barn burner! "DNI" is a meaty and in your face, reverb drenched, triple picks, blister jet pack. Prepare for takeoff, co-pilot! "Planet Collision" is really a great example of the band. You get the sound-clips, you get the energy, and you get the atomic barrage, followed by the feeling your record player is off speed...no, wait...that's just the whammy bar! Yes!!! See figure 2-b below. "Big Track Attack" is a bit slower with traditional surf back beat. No vocals needed to rock this hard cosmonauts! Ironically, though, "9 Volt" features exactly that, a rare and otherworldly vocals track. Punk rawk!! "Evil Plans of Planet Spectra" is next and I can only simply say: imagine if "Flight of The Bumblebee" were an evil song. "Anoxia" finishes out the platter in slow jam form. These guys were everywhere (every label!!!) in the 90's and it's not hard to see why. They all wanted a piece of the MOAM action! I swear I did not plan this random space theme, but I LOVE that it worked out that way. UFO ran out of places to run, but managed to burn 133 calories over 5 songs and 18 minutes. That is 26.60 calories per song and 7.39 calories per minute. They earned 9 out of 15 possible stars. Man or Astroman? Experimented with zero, and took their 18 minutes to burn 137 calories over 8 songs. They burned 17.13 calories per song and 7.61 calories per minute. They earned 17 out of 24 possible stars, among the many they have travelled around. Man or Astroman? Well, they win!!!!! Listen for yourself! Check out the links: UFO: " This Fire Burns Tonight" https://youtu.be/EiJLv5WcP8Y Man or Astroman? " Planet Collision" (I chose this live vid SPECIFICALLY so you can see the live stage set up and craziness. By all means check out other live videos. These guys are one of the GREATEST live acts I have EVER seen!!!!) https://youtu.be/cdxCLq0QnDs #RANDOMRECORDWORKOUTSEASON5 #RANDOMRECORDWORKOUT

[fuckyeahincubus]

Incubus Amungus

Incubus, by definition, can be either a demon or a California alternative rock band, which has roots dating back to the early 1990s. Luckily, central New York and the Lakeview Amphitheater, 490 Restoration Way, will be being paid a visit by the latter.

The quintet will be taking the stage this Saturday, July 15, at 8 p.m. Tickets range from $29.50-$115 and can be purchased through the box office at (315) 435-5100 or online at lakeviewamphitheatre.com.

This afternoon, we were able to chat with Jose Pasillas II, drummer and founding member of the band, which is celebrating its eighth studio album 8, which was released in April of this year.

Congratulations to a new album and another tour. How have things been?

Things have been great! It’s been one of my favorite efforts thus far. Everyone’s been receiving it well. In the last week and a half of shows, we’ve been playing a lot of new material. It been really good and fun.

There was a six-year span between If Not Now, When? and 8. Did that help with writing and recording?

We don’t really don’t plan a specific amount of time in between records or what we’re going to do. It was a natural gap for us. We put out the Trust Fall (Side A) EP a couple years ago and were planning to produce a second EP. After juggling writing music, touring and rehearsing it would have been a bit much. That following summer we toured with the Deftones.

We decided after that we’re going to focus our attention solely on writing, so we came out with the LP. It was a busy time for all of us. We were also busy with our individual projects, and then it just happened to be six years of time. We don’t question time or process anymore. We do what we feel is natural and follow intuition.

You’ve been performing as Incubus since 1991. How has music progressed for you as a band?

By in large, it’s the same process. For the most part, we write as a band. The ideas come from Brandon (Boyd, vocals) and Mike (Einziger, guitar) vibing off each other, whether it is a simple idea, a melody or lyric. Mike may also come up with a couple written guitar sections. We’re all in the room together, devouring the idea. The concepts and songs change and evolve. Yeah, that part has been pretty much the same since the beginning.

The music is evolving. We’re a rock band, an alternative rock band. The music we’ve been playing, I think, has been evolving from record to record. They’re vastly different. I think it’s pretty obvious. It’s fun for us.

I think we are waiting longer in between records is because we’ve written so many songs. We want to push ourselves, push the envelope with recreating ourselves.

How have you developed as a performer?

I just keep playing. There is no limit to art or music. I find inspiration in people, music and places. I’ve enjoyed being in the moment.

I didn’t have formal training, but followed and listened to my favorite drummers. I emulated what they did and made my own style through the years.

I’ve kept the same set up as I have for years. I play DW, Drum Workshop drums, Zildjian cymbols and Remo heads. Those companies have been really good to me.

Incubus has been labeled with term nu metal in the early years, and it’s followed your career. It doesn’t have the best connotation. Does that affect you in any way?

That was a category we were lumped in. We never fit into any genre of music our entire careers. We grew up in the ’90s, putting on shows with Pennywise, Save Ferris, Korn, Pantera, Black Sabbath, 311 and more. We’re across the board, never fitting in, but we made ourselves acclimate to be part of the music scene someway and somehow. It’s just a term, so people can get an idea where you fall even if it may not have anything do to with you. We don’t pay mind to it. We’re a rock band and play rock music.

To go along with not falling into a category, how has the music industry changed in the last couple decades?

It’s a radical difference. We were a band which got involved with a label interested in long-term and developing the band. Nowadays , if you don’t have a song that’s palpable to a large audience right away, it’s like you don’t have a chance.

t’s changed a lot in that respect. It’s just like how people consume music. You don’t really sell records anymore. You stream music. To calculate how well a band is doing is looking at streaming. It’s the day and age of music, but we’ve survived it. In 26 years, we’ve developed a great fan base where we don’t have to sell music. We can put out songs, tour and have that loyal fan base.

It’s not good or bad, but it’s just changing. Genre lines have blurred.For this new album, we worked with Skrillex. That might sound strange, but it’s not when looking at the greater context of music. For me, it’s exciting.

Did you receive criticism for working with Skrillex? How did you deal with it?

No. Actually we haven’t. We didn’t work with him in a typical form where we write a song and Skrillex comes in and does dub step with it. He came in with a handful of songs and mixed the record. We didn’t have a conventional guy mix it. He wanted to try it out, and what he brought back was so compelling. The songs were colorful and he very much respected what we came up with as a band, but he made it that much better. It was a pleasure working with him, because his energy is amazing.

Incubus switched from Epic/Immortal (Sony) to Island. You enjoy working with major labels, but would you ever consider an independent route?

Minus the first few years, we’ve been with a major label. For us we’ve played with the idea of going independent or maybe putting a record out ourselves, but it takes a lot more time and effort to build a team, which has to support you. Also, we’d have to learn all the facets of distributing and marketing. We’ve always chose to go with something that’s had that in place. We were with Sony for 17 years. We’ve also had great relationships with Island. When we signed with them three years ago, it’s been working out better. But who knows what will happen in the future? Take it as it comes. The bridges will be crossed when we get there.

I was about to ask: How do you see Incubus evolving in the next five years?

You can’t really say how. I just imagine us continuing to write, put out records and playing the music live.

How touring with Jimmy Eat World? They’re only a couple years “younger” than Incubus.

They’re a great group of guys. We performed with them a long time ago. It’s been cool to get an extended tour with them. Judah & the Lion are opening up for us, too. They’re a group filled with a lot of really good guys. The bill is really solid, and it’s only the beginning of the tour.

Let’s go back to the album. Talk about that song “When I Became a Man.” It’s a really weird, funny interlude that reflects to little nuggets you’ve done on Fungus Amongus and  S.C.I.E.N.C.E. Where did that come from?

(Laughs.) It is a little nugget. That song was completely unplanned. We were jamming out at our producer’s studio. Chris (Killmore, keys and turntables) played a programmed beat on the synthesizer. Brandon was on the mic, and it caught his attention. The song literally came out right then and there. It was really funny, but we weren’t going to put it on the record.

We played it for Skrillex. He’s like, ‘Dude, this thing has to make the record. It’s funny. It’s you guys.”

Any pre- or post-show superstitions?

We just hang back and relax, wait for show time. We’re an easy going band before and after. We’re lucky to be performing music?

What are you listening to currently?

I find myself listening to a lot of the things I’ve listened to as a teenager. I always go back and listen to my collection at random.

It’s funny. I’ve been listening to a lot of Top 40 music with my daughter. She loves ZEDD, Rhianna, Shawn Mendes. She’s a preteen. But we’ve been connecting over it. I’ve been exposed to music I normally wouldn’t listen to.

What can people expect from the show?

It’s going to be a fun ride for an hour and 45 minutes and an awesome visual show. Please check out Jimmy Eat World and Judah & the Lion. It’s a great night of music.

Any last words?

Run fast, jump high and eat your greens!

[talhaghafoor2019-blog]

Prog Rock Is the Whitest Music Ever

“We are the most uncool people in Miami.” So begins, promisingly enough, David Weigel’s The Show That Never Ends: The Rise and Fall of Prog Rock. Weigel, along with 3,000 fellow Yes-heads, Rush-oids, Tull freaks, and votaries of King Crimson—cultural underdogs all, twitching and grimacing with revenge-of-the-nerds excitement—is at the port of Miami, about to embark on a five-day progressive-rock-themed cruise: a floating orgy of some of the most despised music ever produced by long-haired white men.

W. W. Norton

Do you like prog rock, the extravagantly conceptual and wildly technical post-psychedelic subgenre that ruled the world for about 30 seconds in the early 1970s before being torn to pieces by the starving street dogs of punk rock? Do you like the proggers, with their terrible pampered proficiency, their priestly robes, and their air—once they get behind their instruments—of an inverted, almost abscessed Englishness? I don’t. At least, I think I don’t. I like Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” which is a kind of wonderful satirical compression of prog rock, a fast-forward operetta with goofy existentialist trappings and a heavy-metal blowout in the middle; I like the bit of Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells that became the theme music for The Exorcist. And there are contemporary bands I adore that have been grazed by prog: the moody, alchemical Tool, the obtuse and crushing Meshuggah. But for naked prog, the thing itself, I seem to lack the mettle. The trapped, eunuch ferocity of Geddy Lee’s voice, squealing inside the nonsense clockwork of Rush, disturbs me. And Yes’s Tales From Topographic Oceans is an experience to me unintelligible and close to unbearable, like being read aloud a lengthy passage of prose with no verbs in it.

Hated, dated, sonically superannuated … One could enjoy prog ironically, I suppose—listen to it with a drooping and decadent ear, getting off on the fabulous obsolescence, etc. But that’s not what Weigel is about. He loves prog, and his argument, his prog polemic, is that the glory of this music has been obscured from us by sneering decades of hipster rock criticism and prejudice against 20-minute songs:

Teams of highly trained visionaries paced themselves against their influences and their peers to write songs they were confident no one else would think of writing. They took the music far, far away from the basics, so that some later groups of jerks could take it “back to basics” and be praised for their genius. Every new artistic movement rebels against whatever came right before it. But the progressives’ rebellion was the weirdest and the best.

Put like that, it does sound rather tasty. Prog as a wild chamber of experimentation, a sci-fi trespass across the limits of popular music, driving clear of fashion and orbiting the Earth forever. Awesome. The problem comes, for me, when I actually listen to the stuff. Is it not a form of aesthetic dissipation to praise something for its ambition and its bold idiosyncrasy when that something is, objectively speaking, crap? I think it might be. Gentle Giant, in 1972, took a poem from Knots, a book by the great heretic psychiatrist R. D. Laing, and turned it into an intricate, multivoice chant: It hurts him to think that she is / hurting her by him being hurt to think / that she thinks he is hurt by making her / feel guilty at hurting him by her thinking / she wants him to want her. The idea is great on paper. But listen to the song, to its scurrying, fidgety instrumentation, its fussy avoidance of anything like a melody. It is not enjoyable. At all. Magma, the French prog band, invented not only its own L. Ron Hubbard–style cosmic origin story but its own language (Kobaïan, which reads like a sequence of Gothic expletives: Nebëhr gudahtt, Köhntarkösz). Again, very creative. But run, oh run, from the music.

The relative crudity of punk rock was simply a biological corrective—a healing, if you like.

If Weigel were David Foster Wallace, he would have written his entire book from inside that cruise ship, possibly never leaving his cabin, eavesdropping on snatches of music and chitchat and sending out his imagination in heavy spirals of paranoia and insight. But Weigel is a political reporter for The Washington Post, so he climbs off that wiggy, proggy boat and treads onto the dry land of chronology. “We’re a European group,” declared the lead singer of proto-proggers The Nice in 1969, “so we’re improvising on European structures … We’re not American Negros, so we can’t really improvise and feel the way they can.” Indeed. Thus did prog divorce itself from the blues, take flight into the neoclassical, and become the whitest music ever.

Procol Harum fiddled around with Bach’s Air on a G String and came up with “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” More vandalistically, the super-keyboardist Keith Emerson, of The Nice and then Emerson, Lake & Palmer, unleashed himself upon the works of Modest Mussorgsky (Pictures at an Exhibition), Alberto Ginastera (“Toccata”), and Aaron Copland (“Fanfare for the Common Man”). You’ve got to love Emerson. He would wrench, upend, and literally stab his instrument—rather in the manner in which Hunter S. Thompson used to shoot his typewriter—jamming down keys with daggers, the better to produce his trademark squelching stun-chords. Fiending for technology, vivid with turbulence, he went from the Hammond organ to the freshly developed Moog synthesizer. (The proper pronunciation of Moog, I recently discovered, is “Mogue,” like “vogue.” Perhaps prog should be pronounced “progue.”)

Money rained down upon the proggers. Bands went on tour with orchestras in tow; Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s Greg Lake stood onstage on his own private patch of Persian rug. But prog’s doom was built in. It had to die. As a breed, the proggers were hook-averse, earworm-allergic; they disdained the tune, which is the infinitely precious sound of the universe rhyming with one’s own brain. What’s more, they showed no reverence before the sacred mystery of repetition, before its power as what the music critic Ben Ratliff called “the expansion of an idea.” Instead, like mad professors, they threw everything in there: the ideas, the complexity, the guitars with two necks, the groove-bedeviling tempo shifts. To all this, the relative crudity of punk rock was simply a biological corrective—a healing, if you like. Also, economics intervened. In 1979, as Weigel explains, record sales declined 20 percent in Britain and 11 percent in the United States, and there was a corresponding crash in the inclination of labels to indulge their progged-out artistes. No more disappearing into the countryside for two years to make an album. Now you had to compete in the singles market.

Some startling adaptations did occur. King Crimson’s Robert Fripp achieved a furious pop relevance by, as he described it, “spraying burning guitar all over David Bowie’s album”—the album in question being 1980’s Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps). Yes hit big in 1983 with the genderless cocaine-frost of “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” And Genesis, having lost ultra-arty front man Peter Gabriel, turned out to have been incubating behind the drum kit an enormous pop star: the keening everyman Phil Collins.

These, though, were the exceptions. The labels wanted punk, or punky pop, or new wave—anything but prog. “None of those genres,” grumbled Greg Lake, retrospectively, “had any musical or cultural or intellectual foundation … They were invented by music magazines and record companies talking together.” Fake news! But the change was irreversible: The proggers were, at a stroke, outmoded. Which is how, to a remarkable degree, their music still sounds—noodling and time-bound, a failed mutation, an evolutionary red herring. (Bebop doesn’t sound like that. Speed metal doesn’t sound like that.)

I feel you out there, prog-lovers, burning at my glibness. And who knows? If the great texts of prog had inscribed themselves, like The Lord of the Rings, upon my frontal lobes when they were teenage and putty-soft, I might be writing a different column altogether. But they didn’t, and I’m not. The proggers got away with murder, artistically speaking. And then, like justice, came the Ramones.

This content was originally published here.

[rockrevoltmagazine]

An Interview with Royal Beasts

Royal Beasts describes themselves on their Facebook page as, “dynamic, groove-oriented, guitar-driven, synth-friendly, melodic, post-rock featuring live visuals. An instrumental outfit of sound,” and I could not agree more. The Cleveland, OH band’s shows are full of extreme energy, musicality and captivated crowds. With no vocals, you are given the space to appreciate the ride that their music invites you to jump onto. Royal Beasts has several shows coming up, and their next up is at Mahall’s in Lakewood, OH on March 22. If you are in the area, I highly recommend grabbing a drink, snagging a spot on the floor, and watching their set.

NEXT ROYAL BEASTS SHOW: https://www.facebook.com/events/606323463161839/

To get to know the band and how they arrived to their unique sound, I sat down with them and asked a few questions. If you want to hear about their camaraderie, their starts, and their future shows, check out the interview below the images.

INTERVIEW WITH ROYAL BEASTS:

Jason: My name is Jason Dunlap. I play guitar and synthesizers in Royal Beasts. I am a transplant to Cleveland, Ohio…been here for 7 years. I spent a lot of time out on the west cost in Seattle. Originally, though, from Northwest Ohio. Grew up playing piano and guitars since I was a little baby boy. 

Alec: My name is Alec Schumann. I’m a Leo, I’m 27 years old. I’ve lived in Northeast Ohio my whole life. I play drums and synthesizer in Royal Beats; I also make the backing visuals for our live shows. I have received my musical training at the Kent State University, where I studied Percussion. I’m self taught in synthesis, but I took piano lessons for a while—so make of that what you will.

William: My name is William Hooper and I’m also from Cleveland. I lived here my whole life and I play guitar in Royal Beasts. I started playing when I was 11 years old in 1999. It’s when I got my first guitar. I went to Cleveland State University for a couple of years for Music Theory and Jazz performance.

Devon: One question that I always have with musicians, because I know everyone’s story is a bit different, is what got you into what you play? Was there a moment when someone played something and you were like, “that sounds really cool, and I want to do that?” Also, what was your first instrument and how did you get it? 

Jason: My first instrument was a piano from when I was younger, and having to take lessons early on. Then, when I was a teenager probably around 13 or so, I distinctly remember telling my mother I don’t want to play piano anymore because girls don’t want to kiss boys that play the piano; instead, I wanted to play a guitar because it was a guitar. I think my mom in her infinite wisdom was just more concerned with me sticking around playing music. So, I shifted over and started playing the guitar…then really stopped playing piano until I got to college. Then, I went a totally different path in school. I wasn’t a music major by any stretch of imagination, but still self taught. But, I enjoyed taking electives, and I took an audio production sort of elective just for kicks—it was all about synthesis and it blew my fucking mind wide open. Because I was a massive fan of bands like the Talking Heads and The Cure and that kind of shit from being way younger. Then starting to understand how groups like that were actually able to manipulate sound; then able to use that training from so young and long ago in piano just cracked everything open for me and I never really looked back. Then, I got bored with how a guitar sounded and so I started just fucking around with all sorts of different pedals before pedals became the phenomenon that they are now… but just trying to discover different sounds and make my guitar sound like the things I can do on synthesizers. I was always fascinated with artists and bands that didn’t need to rely on vocalists and perform very profoundly. So, I had always wanted to be in a project like this where it is driven and dynamic in so many other ways without the need of someone coaching you upfront on stage or being a front man— that sort of idea. That’s the journey. 

Alec: I got my first snare drum when I was 8. I was in 2nd grade and I really wanted a violin for Christmas, but, I was going back and forth between a violin and snare drum. My older siblings were really musical, so my dad and mom were like oh well, clearly you should play something, what do you want? I was like oh, snare drum or violin. Then I got a snare drum for Christmas right after I decided violin and I was like never mind, I’m going to play snare drum now because this thing is cool and loud— immediately broke it a week later. I broke the bottom head so I assumed the whole thing was ruined. When I was in 4th grade, I started taking private lessons at a local music shop. That continued until I took private lessons with a couple of different people throughout high school. I went to school at KSU [Kent State University]. I vaguely wanted to be “a musician” whatever that meant. Then my sophomore year, I fell through a really deep depression of just being like, “I don’t know what I want to do actually,” because I didn’t enjoy being a member of the classical world. I didn’t enjoy the academic world around music. Then, one night I was just like well, if I’m going to like be broke and try and make myself a “professional musician”, why don’t I just do that with Indie rock? That was a lot of the stuff that I grew up with, a lot of the more mainstream alternative like Radiohead and like the Shins and Beck. When I got into college, I discovered like Animal Collective and I got really into the noise scene for a while. That, really, I would say pushed my love of synthesis. Like I said, I took Percussion lessons but I bought my first synthesizer when I was a freshman in college and from there, I learned like how to make sounds happen and what all that world was. While I was in college, I joined a band called Half an Animal and moved to Cleveland and that’s when I became a member of the Cleveland music scene. I joined a bunch of bands. Then, this one formed because Will was jamming with Jason. They knew each other and Will and I had been trying to be in a band multiple times. 

William: I wanted to do some kind of instrumental project, like a post rock kind of project, and I knew that Jason was interested in that kind of music—and he had a friend who plays trumpet who played with his old band. So, I initially reached out to Jason because I wanted the trumpet player’s number. But, he wasn’t really interested. So, I got together with Jason and I’ve known Alec for a long time too and it just kind of…

Alec: Will and I had a couple of bands together. Will is in another project called Ottawa, and there’s been one or two occasions where they’ve needed drummers and I’ve been the one to fill in because I love all those dudes and that’s the end of my story. 

Devon: How about you? [William]

William: I have a similar experience because a got a bass guitar first because I thought it would be easier to play. I was like 11 years old so I thought 4 strings would be easier. Then I got a guitar soon after BC Rich red mockingbird. I thought it was really cool. I thought it was jam set field literally. Well I loved like metal music like Metallica and like really embarrassing stuff like Dream Theatre…but, mostly Metallica. Then eventually high school came around then I got into like the Beatles and then after that Devo and Frank Zappa and all that stuff. 

Alec: We’re all excited for each other and for ourselves. 

Jason: That’s something that’s really interesting about this… It’s been about a year and some odd months, and we’ve already gone through a little bit of heart break in that an original member of our band isn’t with us anymore. But, we knew that the 3 of us that had this thing from the outset, and the reason it works is for things like that. We genuinely get so fucking excited by each other seeing each other do things sometimes and sounds come out and we’re generally just like, “that was amazing! Do that again!” It’s just so happy with the 3 of us and because we also are these long winded rambling people, it allows for us to also share a constant narrative with one another and play along with each other in that regard too. Because, we get a kick out of telling stories. 

Alec: Kind of going off that, like, there’s not any taking advantage or like losing appreciation I guess. I am always amazed by like both of your guitar abilities. No offense, Will especially because your synth shit, I’m always amazed, no offense [To Jason]. You’re a strong interpolator and a strong synth player like our sound sculpting is amazing and like you’re I don’t know how to play this and it’s going to work and that always blows me away and it’s something like… I’ve been in bands where we all really get impressed by each other and then we all get bored. Like there’s a honeymoon period and then it goes away. 

Devon: It’s like a relationship. 

Jason: We’re still having amazing sex. Like, a year and a half into this relationship, we still actively fuck. 

[Collective Laughter]

William: You’re my favorite drummer I’ve ever played with in my entire life.

Alec: You’re my favorite interpolator, you’re my favorite, like, multi-instrumentalist. You’re crazy,  man. 

William: It’s funny because for like 5 years I’ve known you and I just wanted to start a band with you so bad. 

Alec: We’ve tried a couple… 

Jason: The thing is, I had never met Alec before a year and a half ago.

Alec: Yeah no, one day you showed up. We used to practice in my basement and then one day you showed up. I thought you were a base player, and the first thing I ever said to you was that’s not a base amp. You started going and I was like, oh! But, yeah, no the cool thing about this band is we think of an idea, and it isn’t like that sounds like a lot of work, it’s that’s sounds like a lot of work lets do it. Which is how we got to the point where we have backing visuals and stuff. 

Devon: How did that start? The backing visuals?

Alec: I’ve been wanting to do that in the project forever. One of my hobbies is video editing… I’m very basic at video editing stuff,like it’s just something I kind of learned how to do on my parent’s computer in high school. And every once a while, I jump back in and be like oh yeah I can sort of figure it out. But I mentioned that we had talked about the idea of backing visuals. Then one day I was like I have a projector and I know how to make the stuff. And everyone else in the band was like oh alright I guess let’s try it. Then the set up that we have is I actually trigger the next video to be played like for the next part of the song. I have a little foot switch next to my hi hat. So while I’m playing, I also like really quickly tap over to the next scene essentially… 

William: And he’s also playing synth. 

Alec: But yes it’s one of the things like kind of going back a little bit too like I never made a new video… We’re really overdue for new visuals so I’m trying to change it up but I’ve just been very busy the last couple of weeks. I’ve never not made like a new visual thing to send to the crew and never not gotten back like whoa holy shit. I always feel very appreciated in this project. And it’s never like oh we should make sure Alec feels appreciated. It’s wow my friend is doing a great job and I feel the same about them. I feel the same about my friends in this room. 

Jason: I didn’t know what to expect the first time when he was hey they’re done, I have the visuals all ready to go. I was like alright I’m excited to see and I know you’ve been working on them all by yourself and I went over to his house and we just listened to the record while he played the visuals and my fucking jaw was on the floor. Because he has this aesthetic for these visuals that are just these trippy analog 80s VHS feedback loops, is what it feels like. And it’s such a…

William: It’s a perfect compliment to the music… 

Jason: Yes. Because we really do [05:49 Unintelligible] a lot to like all the shit that we had talked about before like bands we listen to and all that kind of stuff. And we throw back a lot of like… It’s funny because old metal dudes love us. Because we get a little “prog” at times…

Devon: I’m a huge metal fan that’s why I think I got so into you guys. 

Jason: See I hate metal. No I really do. It’s probably my least favorite genre of music next to like top 40 country music. I really don’t get down with it and so there are times in this band where moments have happened that Alec and Will be like, what if we try this and something comes out. And I’m like whoa that’s kind of starting to touch some boxes I’m not sure if I want to check but then I open it up and I trust it. Then that trust is what I’m like oh I get it. So I’m actually maybe coming around to metal. 

Alec: Even in this band, I don’t listen to a lot of post rock. Being in this band, we did a couple of practices and I was like I probably should check out Mogwa and I’ve still only listened to a few songs. My drumming styles has always been really influenced by Deerhoof and Lightning Bolt. All these really fast insane dudes who just kind of break the rules of what you should do. Then it was like okay Alec, be in a post rock band. Which is like oh that’s like a lot of being in the background and holding a gun drumming…

Jason: … I think it’s perfect. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just want to chime in and say I think it’s perfect that you don’t listen to a lot of the genre because that’s what allows how far we bend in the genre to exist. It’s because you don’t know how to be a post rock drummer. 

Alec: I think all 3 of us started under the idea of like let’s be post rock and halfway through our first album we were like lets bend that a little bit. 

William: …Yes, literally the last 2 songs we did a little different, a little more progressive. 

Alec: And the 2 most recent songs we’ve written have been very much against… not against post rock, they are very heavy heavy parts. Like this is not in that realm at all. 

William: I think they’ve been more like experimental instrumental music. Just less like post rock.

Alec: Especially the way we’re talking about changing things up to with the recent loss of our base player, there’s a minute where we were like whoa should we get another one and now we can kind of explore this area where it’s like well do we need another one? Do we need somebody to play base? The 3 of us are all multi instrumentalists. We all know how to play synths, we all know how to play guitar, we all know how to play base. I know how to play drums and you two know how to play drums too. I’m on stage so I don’t have to play like a beat the whole time. I have a few samplers and that’s a world I would love to jump in with this band. What if we rotated roles a lot more? 

Jason: Switch instruments up a lot more…

Devon: And that’s very unique. I think it’d be very cool and very fitting. 

Jason: Yes, that’s our next step. We have this show tonight and a couple of shows the next couple of months but then we are hunkering down into figuring out how we’re going to keep progressing with just the 3 of us doing things like that; experimenting more with really shifting around a lot of instrumentation and the overall soundscapes themselves. I think they’re going to change pretty drastically to what we’ve done right now. 

Alec: I would say the term post rock is not going to apply to our second album. Not going to say it’s going to be gone, I’m just going to say it’s going to be much less and it’s hard to say. 

William: I do love post rock though. It’s always been like a… not a guilty pleasure but like a secret pleasure like none of my friends know. None of my friends are into it until really I met.

Alec: That was like me and Chillwave for a while, like I totally get that. 

William: I could not relate with anybody about it. 

Alec: Yes, it was like this is mine. I’m going to go home into my bedroom, close the door and just listen to this for a while. 

Jason: Well it’s also hard to meet a new friend and be like here let me put on this record by a band called ‘Godspeed, you Black Emperor’. And the first 6 minutes they’re just like “umm….has it started?”

Devon: Returning back to you said you have a couple of more shows coming up. What are those shows so the listeners can know when they’re going be and where they’re going to be so they can attend. 

Jason: I can tell you real fast.

Devon: Sorry, I know it puts you on the spot. 

Alec: We’re doing a tour April 4th, 5th and 6th. We’re going to Chicago, Detroit and Columbus. 

Devon: Is that your first tour as a band? 

Alec: It’s our first all weekender. We’re also doing Friday March 22nd. That’s our next show. That one’s going to be with Times Ten and BirdDog Cats. That one’s going to be at Mahall’s in Lakewood Ohio. 

Jason: Then yes the 4th, 5th and 6th we’re on the road, then Monday April 22nd, we’re playing with a band from New York called You Bred Raptors. That is at Mahalls as well, the same spot.

William: 30th of April is with Blessed at the Grog shop. 

Alec: That weekend prior we’re also playing a show. 

Jason: We don’t have a whole lot of information on it yet but April 27th and 28th, the ACLU is having a fundraiser in public square in downtown Cleveland and we’ve been asked to play that. That’s going to be really great. That just confirmed this week. We don’t have a lot of details other than we know that it’s going to be Saturday, April 27th we’re playing but the fundraiser is the 27th and the 28th.

Devon: The one question I do have is your first time on the road as a group and as a project. What are some concerns or excitement that you have for being on the road with each other? 

Alec: I don’t have any concerns honestly. 

William: We’re all pretty easy going as far as personality wise. It’s more about what we’re going to eat.

Alec: That’s a concern, it’s like being well fed and making sure we can be. We’ve all done that kind of thing. The thing I’m personally excited about is going to be a thing like wow we’re really going to know the deep dive stuff. Speaking from experience where you can be in a band for like 4 or 5 years and then go on a tour and then you learn stuff that you never knew about the other people. Because it isn’t just you’re getting together once a week, it’s you’re in a car with somebody for the whole day. Then you go to the venue, you don’t know anybody else and if you’re not feeling it, you just hang out with your band again. I personally am excited. I hope the 3 shows that we play are good and I hope they’re encouraging to keep going on tour. Even if they’re bad, they could be encouraging to go on tour because then we’ll know okay this is what we’ve got to switch up. 

Jason: Yes, I concur with all of that. I’m excited for learning the little weird quirks about spending 24 hours a day with somebody. That kind of excites me. I just want to make sure that we have a good steady supply of comic books and cheap pulp sci-fi novels. Just stuff to like burn through and Alec is not allowed to have the playlist control for longer than 2 hours. [laughs] That’s what I’m most excited for and honestly to spread this a little bit more to see what… Because, we’ve come to a point in Cleveland where we know what we’re doing here and we know people’s reactions to it and it’s been very positive and very encouraging. So now we’re ready to see what other places have to think and say about it.

Devon: Well thank you so much for your time and we hope to hear from you soon. 

An Interview with Royal Beasts was originally published on RockRevolt Mag

[rorybergstrom]

 hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse x

「 timothee chalamet. cismale. 」have you seen rory bergström around yet? i hear he’s decided to be in AUDAX for their JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY major. the 23 year old SHEEP is known to be fanatical, eccentric, nitpicky and dogmatic. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, 23, gmt.

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the Perfect Kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having Nice Parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fIT iN AND HE DIDN’T wANT TO fIT iN. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his Safe Space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden EVEN THO it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

long haired, aesthetic is like… timmy in lady bird n beautiful boy

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[dustiarab]

Barter offer: wisdom teeth for tiny bits of wisdom

My son’s dad has been out of the country for the past three and half weeks. I typically have him half time, and while I couldn’t imagine being away from him for more than a night a few short years ago, I’ve become accustom to my rhythms. These rhythms that allow me to work, move my body, and then show up for my kids when they are present in my own time, and tbh, I felt the absence of them.

So naturally during this extended solo parenting spree, I experienced one of the most painful moments of my life when my impacted wisdom teeth finally let me know they’d had enough of my shit and were coming out NOW. The result ended up being 5 teeth being surgically removed.

When it rains, amiright?

The pain was on the scale of childbirth. All I could do those first few days was read, and oh, did I ever. Essentialism, Attached, BARE, and more kept my brain engaged while I dipped in and out of lucidity. As weak as my body felt, there was something stirring here that I had to pursue.

BTW I was 100% on the couch the whole time all of this was spinning in my head, so don’t @ me about self-care and taking a break to recover. Trust me, I did. I had literally no choice, otherwise, I never would have paused this long.

But thank god I had no choice.

The time to truly pause and think has been transformative.

*I had to ask for help.*

More than that, I had to rely on other people in ways that, frankly, I hate doing. I don’t call myself a single mom, because in many ways, I’m not. My kids’ dads are engaged and have them half-time. But because they are both effectively remarried, the burden of care is much more distributed there.

And y’all know the process of beginning to integrate a new human into a family – let alone a complex coparenting situation – is a long game. I’m lucky enough that it has gone as smoothly as it has. My boyfriend helped get my son to school and back after it happened. My mom took me to the appointment and back.

And I’ll have you know, I was SO excited to ride in a wheelchair out the door back home.

But after the meds wore off, I didn’t move from my couch for almost three days.

*I had to get more efficient.*

If you’ve known me long, you know the number of things I can get done in a day borders on obscene. My systems are the work of years of trying, testing, and truly dedicating myself to the pursuit of what I most care about.

But let’s go back to the part where when I’m so drugged up on my couch that I’m only having moments where the pain isn’t debilitating. All of the systems have gone out the window.

All that’s here is the present and managing the pain and that’s when it hits me that that is all that any of is is ever really doing.

The only difference this time (for me, as a person who is generally healthy) is the pain is on such a scale that it refuses to be ignored. I have less spoons than I tend to, and they are more precious to me as a result.

Suddenly, there’s only one question left. What really matters?

If I am this limited, I can only spend my focus where it counts, and it’s never been so clear to me that so much of what I do and how I spend my time does not.

I’m more than a little embarrassed by that. Who am I to waste my normally healthy body and my precious energy on tasks, ideas, people who are unequivocally not worth it?

When I see the people I admire, is this how they are choosing to show up? No. No, they’ve been here before, and now, this is the next phase for me.

*I have to choose.*

If I only have so much time, I cannot waste it. The people I love and the things I care about are worth far too much to me to keep doing things the way I’ve done them before.

Given that, what can I cut out, delegate, or stop doing? What will move the needle most? There are so many questions to answer now.

Content creation is one of my most valuable tasks at work, at home. How can I create better content faster? According to Strengthsfinder, my top skill is Input. Synthesizing a lot of concepts and curating them into something useful is my jam.

That said, I can hang out way too long in research mode. So what can I do? I can outsource the research part of that task to my assistant based on the post concept.

Then I can batch it, generating all of the related social media posts, come up with possible photography concepts to shoot later for Instagram, and oh, also, stop procrastinating on creating content because it’s not always easy to just sit down and produce The Damn Thing.

From the macro to the micro, there’s so much room for change and improvement, and it’s just. not. enough. to do it for the sake of being more productive. Who fucking cares?

You might hit inbox zero every day, but do you make it to your kid’s soccer practice? Sure, you had a viral Facebook post with a hot take, but have you written the book yet? (When was the last time you even worked on it, tbh?) Maybe you sold a thing, but was it something you were proud of?

I’m not trying to shame anyone. What I desperately want is for you to see just how precious this time we have is. The tiny, repeated choices we make add up to routines that will make or break us into who we do or don’t become.

If we aspire to be more productive, let it only ever be in pursuit of a life that leaves us tired and satisfied at the end of the day. To create a perfect-fit sized life dripping in sweetness, one that I can smile and say with quiet pride is mine – does anyone really need a Why story beyond that?

I don’t think they do. I know I don’t.

The post Barter offer: wisdom teeth for tiny bits of wisdom appeared first on Dusti Arab.

from Barter offer: wisdom teeth for tiny bits of wisdom

[thesingerscorner]

An Interview with a Millennial Musician

     College - the best time of a young person's life. A college degree - one of the most valuable things a person of today can have. A college degree in music, however? To many, a degree in the arts is rendered useless. With so many amateur musicians in every career and organization in today's society, helping to contribute to the modern ideal of creative thinking and problem solving, what is the role of the musician-by-trade? What does it mean to be a successful professional musician to a millennial? To Greg O'Keefe, a senior college student studying Music Industry, that role is simple, and essential.

"Ms. Vanacore: Why are you doing what you do?

Mr. O'Keefe: Because I couldn’t do anything else.

Why not?

Because I want to bring other people the joy that it brings me. If people could feel the same way I do when they listen to the music I make, that would be a success. Like, the way I feel when I listen to music other people make.

How have the artists you’ve been listening to gotten you to this point?

They’ve showed me that I’m not the only one dealing with the sh*t I’m going through.

How did others discourage you on the way to where you are now?

Ha. By being so much f***ing better than me. I got here and I thought I was the sh*t. It’s the competition – the fact that you’re raised in a place where you’re a black sheep and you get here and you’re among 400 other black sheep. It’s an environmental thing. The student base was so concentrated, it discouraged me.

I didn’t know how to play a major scale when I got here, but because I knew how to play a pentatonic scale on the guitar back home, people just told me to remember them when I was famous. Now, I'm saying that to some of my peers.

Me and my buddy were the only two that went to school for music, and when I got here I realized that maybe I couldn’t do what I wanted. I wanted to be a performer, but I thought maybe I’ll be something else cause I didn't think I was the best performer. I got here and realized that that was okay cause there are so many people involved in roles in music and I could be any of them.

How did you discourage yourself?

Comparison. That’s literally the main one. Being faced with a bunch of peers who are so much further along the musical ladder just because of circumstance. I came here on a $10,000 scholarship and found that a lot of other people deserve that more than me.

It took me a while to realize that there's a spectrum. On the top of the spectrum are the insanely talented prodigies who work extremely hard. They're the best and they'll end up getting rich and probably famous. Then there are the people at the bottom of the spectrum - the ones that don't really have any talent, but also don't work hard to get better. Then there are the people in the middle - these are the people with different levels of talent who put in different amounts of work. For example, if someone in this middle area had a lot of talent, but never worked on it, then someone with slightly less talent who works really hard could easily surpass them. That can be really discouraging, but also motivating, cause even if you think someone is more talented than you, if you work hard you can get to their level.

What about other common issues? Performance anxiety?

For me, not so much performance anxiety. Being judged during a performance, and whether or not your creative thoughts are quality and valid. You want to be validated as a musician for what you do, but it’s not up to you it’s really up to your audience, which can be intimidating. You really gotta learn to trust yourself and be confident with who you are as an artist, cause that's the kind of musician people are attracted to.

What are some myths about being a musician that you can dispel?

That creativity is entirely natural and comes out of nowhere. Creativity isn’t all just inspired, it’s work. It’s a myth that you don’t have to practice. But even I don’t formally practice every day, my friends and I just “practice” every day - we jam. We get better by messing around. Learning music theory will NOT hurt your ability in any way, shape, or form, despite what some ads I've seen say. "Watch this video and you'll be able to write a hit song!" - that's complete crap. You have to learn music theory and songwriting over time, it just won't happen after paying for and watching a twenty minute video.

Another misconception is that all the greats do drugs. All the greats of today are working their a**es off right now and they won’t touch that stuff. Raw talent that you work for, treating your body right. That’s how you get great.

You have to have talent, but you have to work for it, too. You have to know though, that if you don’t have the talent for performing as a musician, there’s no amount of work that could fix that. You have to realize at some point that you can be good at teaching or working in other aspects of the industry, but there is a ceiling for talent.

Have you even seen another musician do something crazy for money?

Mostly I’ve seen people working at places they never thought they’d end up because they’re taking some time to make money before going deep into music. It’s hard to start out, so I have friends, not giving up music, but taking a break from it being their main thing to make some money. It’s kinda sad, but it’s necessary.

How does fame and wealth play into the picture?

Fame doesn’t, wealth does. I’m not trying to get famous, I’m trying to get rich. Well, rich enough to move to a nice suburb and have two kids. I’m trying to support a family of four and have a decent clientel that recommend me to good people. As far as wealth goes, there’s a 1% of society, and there’s gonna be the same in music. There’s musicians living on the street, there are musicians living the high life, and there’s the working man. I could be a worker for the rest of my life and that would be okay as long as I’m happy.

At this point in my college career, straight out of college, I’m expecting to work a shitty job. If I get my current dream job right out of college, I should be able to make rent. (laughs)

What goals have you achieved?

I went to college. Got my high school diploma. Got away from what my parents wanted. I can improvise, which as a kid I thought was the coolest thing ever. I can hit a low D, which in high school I couldn’t even hit an A. It’s the little things.

What do you still want to accomplish? What are your priorities?

I want to be able to get out of college with a job. I want to be able to do what I love with who I love. In five years, I want to have worked with or for someone famous. Or get credits on something big.

I want to save up enough money for a family. Every single day is going to be pointed to, “In the next 10 years, I want to be happy with where my life is”. I want to be happy with who I’m with, where I’m working. Bare bones. My priority is to work until I get to that place.

Where do you see the future of music headed?

At the moment, I see it going back to traditional instruments. Back to the band, back to organic voices. Guitars, saxophones. People have been hearing electronic for the past few years and they want a combination of that and the organic. For the past decade, people have been like, “Wow, synthesizers are so cool!” and like, “Yeah, they are!” but they there are so many more combinations and people are realizing that and making new things. There can always be something new. People are sampling human voices instead of using synthesizers, and it’s so cool.

Will there ever be a new Led Zeppelin or The Beatles? No, cause there is so much access to even more opportunities. There were so many things that you needed then in order to be a success, and now anyone with a laptop can make music. There are sub-genres and smaller populations of audiences, so if you make something it’s like, you have a better chance of finding an audience for it and people that will like what you create, even if it’s really different.

Some really famous, popular composers today are just doing the wrong thing. You can’t stick to one style the whole time. Too much texture, to many cluster chords. It’s hard to understand if there’s only tension and no resolution, especially to non-musicians. A teacher once told me that music is only based on two chords: V and I, tension and release. I like to think of it more as IV and I. There’s only release and home. I like consistency, but you can’t use it all the time.

Where do you see yourself in that future? What is your role?

I’m the person making the talent sound decent. The one that is refining the raw talent. I make other artists sound good.

What’s my title? Artist. You could be an artist of any type. An artist of a performer, an artist of a producer, and artist of a songwriter. I don’t know. I think maybe a producer, producer of sound. Producers are artists. I think as long as I always have that artist side of me, I think I’ll have a role somewhere."

     The role of a musician of today really is that simple - to make others happy while being a happy artist. The same way that people of all walk of life enjoy listening to music, young musicians want to enjoy making their music. Success to millennial musicians is no longer selling out stadiums and going Platinum - the music market is too saturated with talent for every musician to be in the top one percent. Instead, millennial musicians dream of having a purpose in their job, enjoying their career, loving the people around them, and making listeners happy through their work. A simply beautiful role.