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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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A bathroom figures significantly in the origin stories of at least two classic One Direction songs. The first will be familiar to any fan: Songwriter and producer Savan Kotecha was sitting on the toilet in a London hotel room, when he heard his wife say, “I feel so ugly today.” The words that popped into his head would shape the chorus of One Direction’s unforgettable 2011 debut, “What Makes You Beautiful.”

The second takes place a few years later. Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Liam got up to use the bathroom and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words…” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, what if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, what if [the next line was] ‘More than a feeling’? Well, that would actually be tight!”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live show staple. It’s a mid-tempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock and roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was re-defining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of boy band history. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted only did it once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatles-esque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, pop-y guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘N Sync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

One Direction famously finished third on The X Factor, but Cowell immediately signed them to his label, Syco Music. They’d gone through one round of artist development boot camp on the show, and another followed on an X Factor live tour in spring 2011. They’d developed an onstage confidence, but the studio presented a new challenge. “We had to create who should do what in One Direction,” Falk says. To solve the puzzle the band’s five voices presented, they chose the kitchen sink method and everyone tried everything.

“They were searching for themselves,” Falk adds. “It was like, Harry, let’s just record him; he’s not afraid of anything. Liam’s the perfect song starter, and then you put Zayn on top with this high falsetto. Louis found his voice when we did ‘Change Your Mind.’ It was a long trial for everyone to find their strengths and weaknesses, but that was also the fun part.” Falk also gave Niall some of his first real guitar lessons; there’s video of them performing “One Thing” together, still blessedly up on YouTube.

“What Makes You Beautiful” was released September 11th, 2011 in the U.K. and debuted at Number One on the singles chart there — though the video had dropped a month prior. While One Direction’s immediate success in the U.K. and other parts of Europe wasn’t guaranteed, the home field odds were favorable. European markets have historically been kinder to boy bands than the U.S.; ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys found huge success abroad before they conquered home. To that end, neither Kotecha nor Falk were sure 1D would break in the U.S. Falk even says of conceiving the band’s sound, “We didn’t want it to sound too American, because this was not meant — for us, at least — to work in America. This was gonna work in the U.K. and maybe outside the U.K.”

Stoking anticipation for “What Makes You Beautiful” by releasing the video on YouTube before the single dropped, preceded the strategy Columbia Records (the band’s U.S. label) adopted for Up All Night. Between its November 2011 arrival in the U.K. and its U.S. release in March 2012, Columbia eschewed traditional radio strategies and built hype on social media. One Direction had been extremely online since their X Factor days, engaging with fans and spending their downtime making silly videos to share. One goofy tune, made with Kotecha, called “Vas Happenin’ Boys?” was an early viral hit.

“They instinctively had this — and it might just be a generational thing — they just knew how to speak to their fans,” Kotecha says. “And they did that by being themselves. That was a unique thing about these boys: When the cameras turned on, they didn’t change who they were.”

Social media was flooded with One Direction contests and petitions to bring the band to fans’ towns. Radio stations were inundated with calls to play “What Makes You Beautiful” long before it was even available. When it did finally arrive, Kotecha (who was in Sweden at the time) remembers staying up all night to watch it climb the iTunes chart with each refresh.

Take Me Home, was recorded primarily in Stockholm and London during and after their first world tour. The success of Up All Night had attracted an array of top songwriting talent — Ed Sheeran even penned two hopeless romantic sad lad tunes, “Little Things” and “Over Again” — but Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub grabbed the reins, collaborating on six of the album’s 13 tracks. In charting their course, Kotecha returned to his boy band history: “My theory was, you give them a similar sound on album two, and album three is when you start moving on.”

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

“We thought, while we’re busy recording vocals, whoever’s not busy can go write songs with these two guys, and then we’ll help shape them as much as we can,” Kotecha says. “And to our pleasant surprise, the songs were pretty damn good.”

At this pivotal moment, too, songwriters Julian Bunetta and John Ryan also met the band. Friends from the Berklee College of Music, Bunetta and Ryan had moved out to L.A. and cut a few tracks, but still had no hits to their name. They entered the Syco orbit after scoring work on the U.S. version of The X Factor, and were asked if they wanted to try writing a song for Take Me Home. “I was like, yeah definitely,” Bunetta says. “They sold five million albums? Hell yeah, I want to make some money.”

Working with Jamie Scott, who’d written two songs on Up All Night (“More Than This” and “Stole My Heart”), Bunetta and Ryan wrote “C’mon, C’mon” — a blinding hit of young love that rips down a dance pop speedway through a comically oversized wall of Marshall stacks. It earned them a trip to London. Bunetta admits to thinking the whole 1D thing was “a quick little fad” ahead of their first meeting with the band, but their charms were overwhelming. Everyone hit it off immediately.

“Niall showed me his ass,” Bunetta remembers of the day they recorded, “They Don’t Know About Us,” one of five songs they produced for Take Me Home (two are on the deluxe edition). “The first vocal take, he went in to sing, did a take, I was looking down at the computer screen and was like, ‘On this line, can you sing it this way?’ And I looked over and he was mooning me. I was like, ‘I love this guy!’”

Take Me Home dropped November 9th, just nine days short of Up All Night’s first anniversary. With only seven weeks left in 2012, it became the fourth best-selling album of the year globally, moving 4.4 million copies, per the IFPI; it fell short of Adele’s 21, Taylor Swift’s Red and 1D’s own Up All Night, which had several extra months to sell 4.5 million copies.

Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub’s tracks anchored the album. Songs like “Kiss You,” “Heart Attack” and “Live While We’re Young” were pristine pop rock that One Direction delivered with full delirium, vulnerability and possibility — the essence of the teen — in voices increasingly capable of navigating all the little nuances of that spectrum. And the songs 1D helped write (“Last First Kiss,” “Back for You” and “Summer Love”) remain among the LP’s best.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

Like clockwork, the wheels began to churn for album three right after Take Me Home dropped. But unlike those first two records, carving out dedicated studio time for LP3 was going to be difficult — on February 23rd, 2013, One Direction would launch a world tour in London, the first of 123 concerts they’d play that year. They’d have to write and record on the road, and for Kotecha and Falk — both of whom had just had kids — that just wasn’t possible.

But it was also time for a creative shift. Even Kotecha knew that from his boy band history: album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very pop-y stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.”

That cycle began in early 2013 when Bunetta and Ryan flew to London for a session that lasted just over a week, but yielded the bulk of Midnight Memories. With songwriters Jamie Scott, Wayne Hector and Ed Drewett they wrote “Best Song Ever” and “You and I,” and, with One Direction, “Diana” and “Midnight Memories.” Bunetta and Ryan’s initial rapport with the band strengthened — they were a few years older, but as Bunetta jokes, “We act like we’re 19 all the time anyway.” Years ago, Bunetta posted an audio clip documenting the creation of “Midnight Memories” — the place-holder chorus was a full-throated, perfectly harmonized, “I love KFC!”

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make or break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Production on Midnight Memories continued on the road, where, like so many bands before them, One Direction unlocked a new dimension to their music. Tour engineer Alex Oriet made it possible, Ryan says, building makeshift vocal booths in hotel rooms by flipping beds up against the walls. Writing and recording was crammed in whenever — 20 minutes before a show, or right after another two-hour performance.

“It preserved the excitement of the moment,” Bunetta says. “We were just there, doing it, marinating in it at all times. You’re capturing moments instead of trying to recreate them. A lot of times we’d write a song, sing it in the hotel, produce it, then fly back out to have them re-sing it — and so many times the demo vocals were better. They hadn’t memorized it yet. They were still in the mood. There was a performance there that you couldn’t recreate.”

Midnight Memories arrived, per usual, in November 2013. And, per usual, it was a smash. The following year, 1D brought their songs to the environment they always deserved — stadiums around the world — and amid the biggest shows of their career, they worked on their aptly-titled fourth album Four. The 123 concerts 1D had played the year before had strengthened their combined vocal prowess in a way that opened up an array of new possibilities.

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“They were so much more dynamic and subtle, too,” Bunetta adds. “I don’t think they could’ve pulled off a song like ‘Night Changes’ two albums prior; or the nuance to sing soft and emotionally on ‘Fireproof.’ It takes a lot of experience to deliver a restrained vocal that way.”

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Fucking amazing,” he says. “They were fucking awesome. I know creatively he wasn’t getting what he needed from the way that the albums were being made on the road. He wanted to lock himself in the studio and take his time, be methodical. And that just wasn’t possible.”

A month or so later, and 16 shows into One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour, Zayn left the band. Bunetta and Ryan agree it wasn’t out of the blue: “He was frustrated and wanted to do things outside of the band,” Bunetta says. “It’s a lot for a young kid, all those shows. We’d been with them for a bunch of years at this point — it was a matter of when. You just hoped that it would wait until the last album.”

Still, Bunetta compares the loss to having a finger lopped off, and he acknowledges that Harry, Niall, Liam and Louis struggled to find their bearings as One Direction continued with their stadium tour and next album, Made in the A.M. Just as band tensions bubbled beneath the songs on Four, Zayn’s departure left an imprint on Made in the A.M. Not with any overt malice, but a song like “Drag Me Down,” Bunetta says, reflects the effort to bounce back. Even Niall pushing his voice to the limits of his range on that song wouldn’t have been necessary if Zayn and his trusty falsetto were available.

But Made in the A.M. wasn’t beholden to this shake-up. Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse.

“When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

After Zayn’s departure, Bunetta and Ryan said it became clear that Made in the A.M. would be One Direction’s last album before some break of indeterminate length. The album boasts the palpable tug of the end, but to One Direction’s credit, that finality is balanced by a strong sense of forever. It’s literally the last sentiment they leave their fans on album-closer “History,” singing, “Baby don’t you know, baby don’t you know/We can live forever.”

In a way, Made in the A.M. is about One Direction as an entity. Not one that belonged to the group, but to everyone they spent five years making music for. Four years since their hiatus and 10 years since their formation, the fans remain One Direction’s defining legacy. Even as all five members have settled into solo careers, Ryan notes that baseless rumors of any kind of reunion — even a meager Zoom call — can still set the internet on fire. The old songs remain potent, too: Carl Falk says his nine-year-old son has taken to making TikToks to 1D tracks.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

There are plenty of metrics to quantify One Direction’s reach, success and influence. The hard numbers — album sales and concert stubs — are staggering on their own, but the ineffable is always more fun. One Direction was such a good band that a fan, half-jokingly, but then kinda seriously, started a GoFundMe to buy out their contract and grant them full artistic freedom. One Direction was such a good band that songwriters like Kotecha and Falk — who would go on to make hits with Ariana Grande, the Weeknd and Nicki Minaj — still think about the songs they could’ve made with them. One Direction was such a good band that Mitski covered “Fireproof.”

But maybe it all comes down to the most ineffable thing of all: Chance. Kotecha compares success on talent shows like The X Factor to waking up one morning and being super cut — but now, to keep that figure, you have to work out at a 10, without having done the gradual work to reach that level. That’s the downfall for so many acts, but One Direction was not only able, but willing, to put in the work.

“They’re one of the only acts from those types of shows that managed to do it for such a long time,” Kotecha says. “Five years is a long time for a massive pop star to go nonstop. I know it was tiring, but they were fantastic sports about it. They appreciated and understood the opportunity they had — and, as you can see, they haven’t really stopped since. Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing. To have these boys — that had been sort of randomly picked — to also have that? It will never be repeated.”

#rolling stone #ROLLING STONE SAID ROCK BAN SO ITS A ROCK B AND PERIDOT #220720 #10years1d #one direction

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stylesnews · 4 years ago

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“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

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“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

#rollingstone #july20 #10years1d

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

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The second takes place a few years later: Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Payne got up to use the bathroom, and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words …” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, “What if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?”

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio, with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, ‘What if [the next line was] “More than a feeling”? Well, that would actually be tight!’”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live-show staple. It’s a midtempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock & roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was redefining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘NSync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of the history of boy bands. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties, when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted did it only once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatlesque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, poppy guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy-band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘NSync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

#harry styles #louis tomlinson #one direction #1d ten #220720

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triptychexe · 5 years ago

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TRIVIUM - PART 3 - DEBUT MINI ALBUM [2016]

TRIVIUM is the third and final unit to debut from Triptych’s first generation with their debut mini album PART 3. With a significantly more hip-hop and rap-focused sound in comparison to the two previous Triptych units, TRIVIUM brings a new layer of talent and meaning to the super group. Covering hard-to-swallow topics like gender roles and societal double standards, TRIVIUM hits hard and makes waves.

△ TRACK BY TRACK.

1] BERLIN

The decision to make BERLIN their debut song was a power move. Not only does the song have a very distinct and recognizable sound that drags listeners in, but it sets the vibe for TRIVIUM’s energy.

All three members had a hand in writing this song.

The line distribution can be found here

2] SAVAGES

In this hiphop-influenced track, TRIVIUM has a back and forth debate between rappers Van and Cal over if human nature is inherently good or evil, giving examples of highs and lows in society.

Doubled with a strong chorus, thought-provoking versus, and irony twisted into more than a half the lines, this song can be seen as an ironic commentary on what people see as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.

Written by all three members.

3] WHO I AM

Trivium talks about their past and how it had shaped them into who they are today. This song is like the last goodbye to their old selves, ready to let go of the past and move on.

This track also acknowledges that admitting ignorance isn’t something that you should be ashamed of, as you can only change as long as you’re willing.

Written by all three members

4] BACK OFF

Ura, the only woman in this subunit, took it upon herself to write a feminist anthem for their album. It’s basically a response to all the times Ura has had a man be patronizing towards her. Van and Cal act on the track as supporters, but the song is mostly Ura focused.

The first song on the album where you actually hear Ura rap and get to see her lyricism play out. One of Ura’s lines mentioned snapping kneecaps. Everyone’s afraid of her now.

Written by Ura

5] BITE

This song is all about wanting someone that’s not good for you, but you keep coming back.

The non-gender specific pronouns in the song show that this song can be about any type of relationship, regardless of gender or if it is a romantic or platonic relationship.

Written by Van and Cal

6] MEN/WOMEN

All about gender roles and how they’ve hurt them as they’ve grown up. Since they are the first co-ed unit from Triptych, they took it upon themselves to address double standards/gender roles.

This one caused a bit of a discussion, especially since it directly calls out the double standards in the kpop industry.

Written by all members.

△ THIS ERA.

So... Trivium easily got the most attention out of Gen 1.

Mostly because they’re a co-ed duo that covers topics that aren’t discussed super openly.

But also because they’re really good rappers. Like, all of them. And their stage presence is really intense.

Ura doesn’t rap as much as she would have liked to this era, as they needed her on vocals to break up the tracks a little since neither Van or Cal can sing very well.

Trivium were given the title ‘un-idols’ - which is both a term of endearment as well as a critique, depending on who uses it - because of their unwillingness to play up the role of a significant other at fan signs as well as their general aura.

Idols are supposed to be like... ‘perfect’ at all times, and Trivium just doesn’t do that? Like they wear the worst outfits to the airport, fansites have pictures of them waiting in line for street food (and then chowing down on said street food), and the way they talk to fans is so casual?

This attitude turned off some fans, but it brought in a whole new wave of support, especially from international fans who felt like Trivium were relatable.

The most popular member this comeback was easily Ura. Not only was she the only girl, so she visually stood out, but she was the one that often went viral for fan-zoning fans who asked her to be romantic with them.

She also received the most criticisms, but she really didn’t care. She wasn’t going to make herself uncomfortable for the sake of others.

Cal got a good amount of attention too because of his accent and his looks. Cal has a very slight British accent when he says certain Korean words and people just... lost it over that.

Van kinda sunk to the background this era, but he doesn’t really mind. He just wanted the kids to have fun and have their time to shine. :)

As far as numbers go, Trivium breaks records for Triptych by gaining 10 million music video views in the first 24 hours as well as having BERLIN chart on Melon upon release.

△ ERA FASHION.

I promise this is the last era that Triptych wears color-coded outfits. I promise. The company was trying to see how the color-coded concept would work and gen 1 was the guinea pigs.

When Artychs saw how lacking Trivium’s debut outfits were.... they almost rioted at HBH. They already were accusing HBH of picking favorites and not giving Trivium equal treatment.

But the truth is... Trivium picked their debut stage outfits. Yes, they’re bland, but Trivium wanted their debut to feel like friends were finally meeting up for the first time, hence the casual clothes.

The button up shirt fits tho.... that made a few bitches go feral. That was an exquisite serve.

The award show fits were nice too! Ura stunned bitches pulling up with her short blazer dress and fishnets. Van had really cool dress pants with designs on them and Cal wore a color that wasn’t black! It was monumental!

As far as hair goes, Ura had short black hair with wispy bangs.

Van had black hair and almost always wore a wide headband on his hairline.

Cal’s hair was usually just styled into tousled brown curls and called a day.

△ FANDOM BEHAVIORS.

I’ve explained triptych stan culture before (basically the fandom is kinda divided? like some fans only support certain subunits, others support all of them, etc.) but I think Trivium was what really made that divide clear.

Trivum just sounds different than S.O.T and Tromme, there was gonna be people who didn’t vibe with their style. But that’s kinda the point of Triptych, to like.. get different sounds involved in their discography.

And some gross fans didn’t like that Trivium made it clear that they don’t want to be sexualized by fans, so they just decided to ignore them and focus on S.O.T and Tromme, who hasn’t spoken out about being sexualized by strangers online.

People also started calling Van a ‘smol bean uwu’ (hello 2016) and started like... infantalizing him?? even though he’s a grown ass man??? does he LOOK like dan OR phil to any of you????????

Fans also started calling Cal a fuckboy and played him up as this big meme just because he’s goofy. I will never forgive y’all for that.

Pick Mes hated Ura because if anyone’s ‘one of the boys’, it’s Ura and they were jealous. But she literally has to be one of the boys. It’s apart of her job.

But the artychs that do stan Trivium are probably some of the chillest people ever. They are literally just vibing. Trivium stans are dubbed as the ‘stoners’ of the fandom as a joke.

And OT9 stans overpower solo stans by a LONG SHOT, so don’t worry! Trivium received more love than hate from artychs. There were just a few bad eggs that ruined shit.

#kumokocnet #aeskocnet #peachykocnet #pikurin #mochikocnet #kocsociety #triptych.disc #trivium.disc #kpop additions #oc kpop group #kpop oc #oc kpop #kpop idol oc #fake kpop group #oc kpop idol #idol!oc #idol!au #fake kpop idol #kpop au

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

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Three Days ~ 50

~*~Emma~*~

The evening had been fun. By the time Kirk suggested music everyone was happily buzzed and carrying on like old friends. The teasing between Sebastian and I was fun. I don't know why I blush when reminded of us fucking against the wall. It had been hot if for no other reason than how his biceps felt while holding me up. Thank fuck its only him and not when anyone else says the word.

Eli, Boone, and I put together a song list in the other room. Over the years we'd played together many nights. I was much better at guitar than singing but loved to do both. The year in Hawaii playing with Eli and Ed had been the best. Angie's favorite was Hotel California. She liked how we played off each other and traded vocals. Eli and I had to be in the mood. The solo was more of a duel and the timing was difficult. It sounded better on electric guitar, but we'd tweaked things to make it our own.

The addition of Never Tear Us Apart was all Sebastian. Eli shook his head and smirked, "I hope he's liquored up."

"Why?" I had a jolt of panic. Why did he need to be drunk?

"Emiliana."

"Now the dad voice."

"This is a hell of a lot more than dating, yet for some reason, you're also trying to kill him."

I understood what he meant. I used to love it when I caught a performer's eye and sang to me. There's that moment where you're the only one in the room, connected through the music. It’s such a rush. Angie still feels that when Eli plays. Jimmy never felt that passion for music. He liked it, but it didn’t fill him the way it does me. Sebastian loves music, but who knows how he'll feel hearing us.

As usual, Eli could hear my thoughts. He kissed my cheek, "I never saw him look at you the way Seb does." We grabbed instruments and head back out Eli looked back at me, "Angie's going to have questions."

The first chords brought a change in Sebastian's face. Surprised morphed into his slight smile. The one where one corner turns up more than the other. I tend to get lost in what I’m playing. I drifted between the music and the room to look at him. By the end of the second song, it was clear my boyfriend was more like Angie than my ex. The way he looked at me made me a little nervous, which was a new feeling. I played for the joy of it, but of course, it felt good when people enjoyed the music, but I didn't chase that high. I knew the feeling because I chased the win in volleyball. Playing guitar was my meditation, it took me away, calmed me. My sudden nervousness was about wanting to keep that look on Sebastian's face. He was proud of me. Once I figured out the reason for the nerves they disappeared. Then I struggled to keep my eyes off him.

Sebastian recognized the INXS song immediately and his smile widened. He sang along, knowing all the lyrics. Near the and I sang an alternate chorus between Eli's lines. Sebastian grabbed Will's arm and didn’t let go.

Hotel California was next. I needed to pee and I needed tequila. I was not expecting Sebastian to be blocking the hallway like a big X when I came out. I wanted to start at his wrists and run my hands down his arms to his chest. The look on his face was predatory. I figured if I did what I wanted he'd either have an uncomfortable problem or we'd be in our hosts’ bedroom taking care of the problem.

His compliments, the complete conversation he had without me, and asking me to play for him led to my response, "There's very little I wouldn't do if you asked." I didn't mean that in a mindless simpering “I'd do whatever you asked” sort of way. I meant I trusted him to not take advantage. We both felt my words and his "oof" earned him a good long kiss.

Fuck Kirk and his ice cube.

The last songs were pretty intense and I wasn't sure what was next. Angie answered my question by dragging me off to her bedroom, "We need to talk."

I crawled into the bed, making myself comfortable. Angie started to close the door, but Alissa coming in stopped her. A second attempt was thwarted by Kirk carrying booze. Angie finally got it shut. Alissa was sitting on the bed while Kirk poured drinks. Angie walked to the other side of the bed, "What the fuck Emma? I mean..." she looked exasperated, "what the actual fuck?"

I’m confident this has something to do with Sebastian, but I’m not sure what. "I'm going to need more of a question than what the fuck. I'm a little drunk."

Kirk handed out cups of margaritas with extra tequila, "Here's to getting a little more drunk." He joined us on the bed.

Angie took a drink, "You called me not even two weeks ago gushing about this new man you'd meet. Lots of talking, a festival, dinner with his parents, and sex that left your parts tingling the next day."

Kirk high fived me, "I’m here for tingly parts."

Alissa looked perplexed, "You met his parents?" She held up her hand like a stop sign, "We need to catch up. Start at the beginning."

The more I told the story the shorter it got, plus they were more Sebastian’s friends than mine. Details were his to share. Main points and some cute things. Every now and then I’d see Kirk and Alissa glance at each other or one of them makes a face. I finished with, “And now we’re all here.” They looked at each other again. I pointed back and forth between them, “You’ve been doing this thing. Looking at each other. Is this what he does, his pattern? Because if it is he’s about to get a blow job that ends with his dick being separated from his body.”

Kirk put his hand over his crotch, “No, not what he does. Well, the romantic dinner and shit, but everyone does that. You’re not part of a pattern.”

Alissa didn’t even blink when I threatened his dick. “He threw you over his shoulder and carried you across a park?”

“It was fun.”

“I bet it was. You helped his mom make a bed before you’d had sex.” Her voice was slow. It was like she was confused by her own words. Or possibly the extra tequila margaritas were making everything slow. “You call your dad Ed?”

I sighed, “No, not my dad, well, yes, but not biologically. That’s a very long and not particularly pleasant story. I went and lived with Ed and his family my senior year.”

Kirk put his hand on Alissa’s leg, “Ed Vedder. She lived with Pearl Jam.”

She gasped, “That’s how you get good concert tickets.”

“He knows people.” I shrugged.

Angie looked at me, “So here’s my point. If it was anyone else, I’d call bullshit. You’ve known each other longer than two weeks. But since it is you, you’ve left out a lot. I don’t know what, but a lot. We’re getting together to meet this guy your dating, but you’re not dating. All the touching, and kissing, and eating off the same plate. He’s right up on you while we’re having dinner. You’re curled up next to him on the couch with your hand on his inner thigh. Telling stories together, little inside jokes, and whatever the fuck you’ve done that makes you blush. You don’t blush!” She poked me in my arm, “You’re way too comfortable together. Neither of you is acting like you’re dating. You’re a couple. This isn’t dating, it’s a thing.”

Kirk added, “When he followed you to the bathroom and blocked the hallway I thought for sure we’d lost both of you for a good half hour or so.”

“It was cute, though.” Alissa cocked her head to the side as she spoke. She pointed, “Did you give you the necklace?”

I put my hand over, touching the cool silver, “He bought it while I was in the bathroom at the gallery.”

Angie threw her hands up, “My point exactly.”

Well, that made zero sense. My voice was raised, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I thought I was really clear how much I like him. You’re acting all butt hurt because I’m in a relationship and have a boyfriend.”

“Right there! Those words. Boyfriend and relationship. We talk or text every day and you’ve never used either of them.”

“It’s been a busy twenty-four hours.”

The ridiculousness of my statement got us all laughing and we fell together on the bed. Miracle we didn’t spill margarita everywhere. The laughter died down and we slowly righted ourselves on the bed.

Angie laid her head on my shoulder, “I was butt hurt because you didn’t tell me.”

“There wasn’t anything to tell. I explicitly told them last weekend not to call him my boyfriend. Then Drew asked him if he was my boyfriend and he said yes and nothing else was said about it until last night.” Alissa and Kirk looked at each other again. I was rambling, but tequila wasn’t let me stop. “I tell you what, it was much easier in college when you just kinda were boyfriend and girlfriend. Those words sound stupid at twenty-eight and involve awkward conversations. Only it wasn’t all that awkward because we’d already talked about wanting to see where we went.” Again with the looking. I couldn’t leave it alone, “You two have got to stop with the looking at each like you know something I don’t. You’re making me paranoid.” Then I was back to rambling, “All the touching and kissing is just Sebastian.”

They were looking at each other again and they each raised a hand. I rolled my eyes. “What?”

Alissa said, “No, it’s not.”

“Unless just Sebastian is code for nothing like Sebastian.” Kirk scrunched up his face and shook his head. “If you look online you’ll see some PDA, but most of that shit is staged. Pap walks and events.”

“His and her PR.” Alissa joined in. “It’s part of it when two actors are dating. I’ve never seen pictures of the non-actress he dated. It was before fans stalked his apartment.”

“There’s spontaneous shit out there, but not much.” Kirk looked at Alissa, “I don’t know about later girlfriends, but early ones . . . let’s just say he’s grown out of being an asshole.”

“I know about her.” I looked at Kirk and he winked at me.

“Seb is different with friends than girlfriends. I see him with Will then with a woman and they’re not the same person most of the time. That’s a complaint, and he knows this, that he’s not emotionally available to women. He’s in his head too much. Pretty much everyone gives him shit about thinking too much and not just feeling.”

I got up and brought the pitcher of margaritas back, topping everyone off, as Kirk continued. “He has feelings. Lots of feelings. He keeps them on the inside. One may escape, but he tucks that fucker away as soon as he notices.”

Alissa grabbed my arm, “I don’t want to scare you. He’s a great guy. Out there . . .”

I interrupted her, “I don’t know this guy you’re talking about. Our first date, as soon as we sat down, he held my hand on the table. For almost nine hours we sat talking and holding hands. If he’s close enough, he’s touching me. And if he’s not close enough he makes it where he is. I know the overthinking thing because we’ve talked about it and when it happens, we figure out how to get him out of it. And emotionally unavailable is not even close. In under five minutes, he was telling me he was anxious trying to figure out how to ask me to dinner. I know what he’s feeling because he’s easy to read or he tells me. I’ve never felt kept at a distance or on the outside. He’s always let me in.”

Alissa put her hand over my mouth, “Let me finish, you drunken cow.” She laughed. I licked her hand and she moved it, wiping her palm on her pants. “I don’t even want to think where your tongue has been. What I’ve been trying to do is contrast the Seb I’ve seen with women, the Seb I see with friends, and the Seb tonight. The one out there matches the one with friends. The unguarded, happy, fun Seb. I don’t what’s different with you, but I’m glad it is because the Seb I know will be a great boyfriend.”

“I do want to know where your tongue has been.”

I looked at Kirk and shook my head, “We are not talking about where my tongue has been.”

“How about your fingers? Where have they been?”

“We’re not talking about my fingers. We are also not talking about where his tongue or his fingers have been.” I physically shuddered, “I will tell you that man has skills.”

Angie gave me a side-eye, “You’re in love with him.”

“No, I am not.” All three of them looked at me. I sensed they did not believe me. “I am not in love with him.” I put my finger to my lips as I did with my kids to keep them quiet. Remarkably it worked here too. “I am falling in love with him. Probably from the moment I realized he wasn’t a lost rehab patient. Any guesses how I know he feels the same way?”

“He told you.”

I nodded at Alissa, “Yeah, he told me.”

Kirk stood up and pulled at my hand, “Let’s go back out there and see what our men are up too. We’re out of margaritas.”

I grabbed the pitcher, “I’ll make more.”

“You have to actually put margarita mix in or it’s just a pitcher of tequila.”

“One time. I did that one time.”

Cackling would be the best word to describe what we were doing down the hall into the family room. We'd pulled each other off the bed and were still holding hands. All four men were kicked back with their feet on the table.

Sebastian looked at our giggle train, “This is weird."

Eli looked at the pitcher dangling from my and Angie’s joined hands, "You drank that whole pitcher?"

Alissa tapped her front teeth, "I can't feel my teeth."

"I'll make more," I repeated my words from earlier and headed to the kitchen.

I could hear Kirk's voice perfectly, "Your wife called your girlfriend a drunken cow, so Emma licked her. Nobody but me wanted to know where her tongue had been."

There were several groans and one, "I already know."

I yelled, "Poart ă-Te frumos, Sebastian." <Behave yourself>

He laughed, "Niciodată, iubito."

"In engleza."

"Never, baby"

"Is that Romanian?" It was Will’s voice.

I put the pitcher of mostly tequila margaritas on the bar and headed toward my emotionally available boyfriend, who answered, "Yes, it’s Romanian."

Will looked at him strangely, "You’re teaching her Romanian?"

"No, she's teaching herself strategic words and phrases." He left out so I could say his name the way he likes. He looked at me and said, "Her desperate attempts to get me to fall in love with her are so transparent."

Sebastian was looking at me so he didn’t see Alissa and Kirk do a double-take. I looked at them and tried not to laugh.

Eli wanted to know, "What was the first thing she learned?"

Sebastian put on a smirk, "More."

I sat beside him, hand back on his leg, "Wrong. It was welcome back."

"Oh yeah." He got a little lost in the memory of what happened next. "Then something happened."

I felt my cheeks turned red.

Will was closest, "Now we know when. I have a thousand dollars to whoever figures this out.”

Sebastian handed me his phone opened to his text app. "Ed" at the top, a video, and a message telling Eli good job and "Tell Em I love her."

I sent back, "Love you too, dad. ~ Emma."

Kirk took a drink of the new margaritas, "Umm, this good. We should play Candy Land."

I jumped up, "I'll get the game."

Angie followed, "I'll get the paper."

"I'll get a bowl." Alissa headed to the kitchen.

Kirk held up the pitcher, "I'll fill the cups."

The game was on a shelf across the room, so I was back quickly. Will or Sebastian must have made a face because Boone explained, "It's a dirty never have I ever, truth or dare drinking hybrid."

Sebastian took the box top from me and started reading the rules. Angie came back into the room, handing out paper and pencils, "How do you not know Candy Land?"

He pointed to the age range on the front, "Three to five. I was in a communist country. No Candy Land."

"Did you have candy?"

He shook his head.

I took the top away from him, flinging it away like a frisbee, "We don't play by these rules anyway." I grabbed the stack of cards and turned to Sebastian and Will. "You pick a card and move to the next spot of that color."

Alissa dumped a Ziploc of folded slips of paper into a bowl, "One square you pick a never have I ever or truth from this bowl. Two squares you pick from this and from the dare bowl. If you don't want to answer the truth you pick a dare."

I showed them one of the candy cards, "If you pick one of these you have to do a shot."

Kirk added, "You have to drink every turn."

Will looked at me, "Did you invent this?"

Eli spoke, "Actually, this is Boone and Eli creation. We found it in a dressing room on tour and repurposed it. There's a lot of downtime as an opener."

"And groupies," Angie mumbled.

"And groupies." Eli grinned, "There were mostly dares back them. The questions were dirtier." He waved his blank sheet of paper, "Everybody adds a couple of questions or dares. We toss the crap ones." He swirled his hand in the bowl of papers, "Some of these are very old."

Angie smacked his hand and rolled her eyes, "We've taken out all the girl on girl dares."

"Made things less fun, you mean." Boone and Will shared a smile, "Back when I thought I was straight."

Will and Sebastian started to write and Will said, "We'll just put a couple of those back in."

Alissa smiled, "Be careful, baby. You could be the one to pull out anything you write."

Sebastian shrugged, "I'll risk it."

"Isn't that right, Emma?" Alissa had ignored Sebastian, but he heard her just fine.

His head swiveled to me, "What did you do?"

I waved my hand dismissively, "Something about making sex noises."

Eli is an ass. "It was imagining a movie character going down on you. Verbally act it out to orgasm."

I closed my eyes. A voice behind me said, "Do I want to know?”

I shook my head rapidly, "No."

My previous best friend said, "Aragorn."

I kept my eyes closed and held up my middle finger in her direction.

"Hmm." I could clearly imagine the cocky smirk on his face as he said, "Could have been worse. Could have been Thor. All that hair."

Alissa chuckled, "I always thought Cap was too earnest to give good head."

Kirk added, "Bucky had the pre-lubed arm."

Sebastian managed to get out, "Yeah, but she..." before I put my hand over his mouth and said, "Stop talking."

Predictably, he licked my hand. "Won't work. I'm unconcerned where your tongue has been."

I kept his mouth covered as I stood up. I moved my hand and gave him a smacking kiss before I moved to the futon across from him.

"Why are you over there?"

Boone looked over, "Never get to do anything fun with who you're sitting next to."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction

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slowpocalypsecooking · 4 years ago

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the top 8 tracks on folklore from least to most embarrassing to enjoy

Hi I’m Anthony Fantano and welcome to the needle drop. I don’t know if he says that, because I don’t watch him—if I wanted to listen to a repulsive white man talk about music, I could just go on a date. (just kidding, covid!)

Forgoing any further introduction, here are the top eight tracks from Taylor Swift’s new album, low-caps “folklore,” ranked from least embarrassing to most embarrassing to enjoy, according to me. The whole album is 16 tracks long, but I’m only doing the most noteworthy half because 16 is too many. You’re welcome for that decision.

Methodology: To get on this list, songs had to be both embarrassing and enjoyable. There will be natural fluctuation between tracks, but as we go down the list, assume that the songs are getting increasingly better to listen to and worse to think about, like this:

The rankings:

8. cardigan

This is a song about feeling at times like an unloved trash bag, as we all do, and then being warmly reminded that you matter because you are in fact someone’s fallback. The hook goes:

and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed you put me on and said i was your favorite.

Beyond reveling in this pathetic status, this song serves as an admission that the speaker a. uses the word “cardigan” and b. thinks of those bland, preppy sweaters as a comforting thing to wear. In a cooler universe, this song would be called “flannel.” It is just okay to listen to.

7. mad woman

This song has big Ophelia vibes, big Handmaid’s Tale vibes, big “daughter of the witches you couldn’t burn” vibes. One of the verses contains the line “and women like hunting witches too,” because, hey, woman-on-woman misogyny is bad, didn’t you know. Strong reminder that if being called crazy is the worst form of oppression you’ve experienced, you still have it pretty good. Sometimes sounds decent, sometimes too croony.

6. invisible string

This one uses a pretty lazy, commonplace device: She opens couplets within verses by just naming colors, and uses these to create a simple repetitive structure for introducing random, useless details:

green was the color of the grass where i used to read at centennial park i used to think i would meet somebody there teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money

Sure this device is tired, but that’s only the surface of what’s embarrassing here. More embarrassing is the image I’ve conjured of a teal-shirted teenage boy smiling through his braces behind the toppings station at one of those blindingly lit American-kawaii froyo stores. I don’t know who needs to hear this but don’t fuck the froyo boy. Song is pretty catchy.

5. illicit affairs

Title says it all here: This song is about how thrilling and fun and ultimately horrible it is to be involved in a romantic situation you’re not supposed to be in, and how that forbidden sheen can get you totally enthralled with a crappy garbage man. Not a whole lot going on below the surface. This song is both very enjoyable and very embarrassing because it is very relatable.

4. seven

We are back to the aggressive levels of white woman previously seen in “mad woman,” only the case has gotten much more severe. Here’s this song’s final chorus:

Sweet tea in the summer Cross my heart, won’t tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Pack your dolls and a sweater We'll move to India forever Passed down like folk songs Our love lasts so long

Okay let’s just skate past the part where a presumed adult is telling a fellow adult (I sure hope!) to bring their dolls when they run away together. That in itself is too big a can of worms to crack open. What I want to talk about is the line “We’ll move to India forever,” which pretty obviously uses an Orientalist fantasy of India as some nebulous, ethereal image of the East. Real people don’t live there; it’s the exotic dreamland where sweet-tea drinking southern belles bring their adult toys when they elope. This song is very catchy.

3. betty

Let me start by saying that now that we’re in the top three, all of the remaining songs are vying for the #1 slot. I could very easily see this and the next as the Most Embarrassing to Enjoy. But “betty” is clocking in at number three today.

This is a song about a teenage romance gone bad, in which a speaker named James (who is “only seventeen, I don’t know anything”) has cheated on a girlfriend (Betty) and is now considering showing up at her party, begging for forgiveness, and hoping for a kiss in the garden. We get the backstory in the bridge:

I was walking home on broken cobblestones Just thinking of you when she pulled up like A figment of my worst intentions She said "James, get in, let's drive" Those days turned into nights Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long

First of all, “figment” of “intentions” is not really a phrase? But secondly, and more importantly: Excited bloggers all over the internet have posted a smattering of theories detailing why this song is Taylor Swift’s coded revelation that she actually maybe fucks girls, too, y’know, and hey, maybe the object of this song is the supermodel Karlie Kloss, whose middle name is Elizabeth. Apparently Taylor Swift is named after James Taylor, so she could be James, or at the very least James could be a woman. I’m going to allow for the possibility that the speaker “James” is a woman, because why not; it does not change the narrative. But said narrative doesn’t make sense: who is this woman pulling up next to James and picking them up on the cobblestone? Did James really spend all summer with her, and if so, why? James is only seventeen by the time they get back to ask Betty’s forgiveness, so like, where the hell are James’s parents? Do they not care that their child has gone off for the whole summer with a person I can only picture as a cheetah-print-and-goggles-wearing divorcee driving a convertible?

Furthermore, the Karlie Kloss/Taylor Swift fan theories are gross for the simple reason that these two tall skinny white women look pretty much exactly the same. What is it with the internet’s obsession with wanting practically identical people to hook up? There might be an incest thing going on there that you guys could stand to reflect on. And on the more cynical conspiracy-theorizing side, couldn’t this just be some convenient queerbaiting? Didn’t Taylor Swift get criticized for appropriating gay rhetoric and imagery for “You Need to Calm Down,” like, 20 minutes ago? If she were going to come out, wouldn’t it have been an ideal moment to do so when she was under fire for that? I’m not saying all celebrities are shallow opportunists, but, you know, maybe.

This song is infectious. You will need to lobotomize me to get it out of my head.

2. exile

I know I originally said this was gonna be number one but I lied. It is pretty rough, though. This track features Bon Iver, and it’s not the high-pitched sad boy of “Skinny Love” renown. This Bon Iver is deep-voiced and country, like Bon Iver playing Tim McGraw in an uncomfortable SNL parody. Also, the whole song is centered around the tired and overused metaphor that a person is a place, and the person the speaker is pining after is home, and the speaker is in exile because they can’t go home to the person they love. It’s a heartache-ballad, cry-sing in your car, absolute jam.

1. the last great american dynasty

I really tried not to let this be number one. I really didn’t want it to be, which is precisely why it is. This was the track that first alerted me to the entire album’s release, because Ed Markey supporters on Twitter seized on it and decided it was about the downfall of the Kennedy family. It is not. The opening verse goes:

Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny Her saltbox house on the coast took her mind off St. Louis Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name and money And the town said, "How did a middle-class divorcée do it?" The wedding was charming, if a little gauche There's only so far new money goes They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House"

This is very obviously about a real couple, Rebekah and William (Bill) Hale Harkness, who had a real mansion in Rhode Island that they called “Holiday House.” The Harkness name is on basically every building in Connecticut and a lot of the Northeast because Stephen Harkness, Bill Hale Harkness’s great uncle, was a founder of Standard Oil along with John D. Rockefeller. In 2013, Taylor Swift bought the property known as “Holiday House,” as she says in the song:

Fifty years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits And then it was bought by me

The cool, fun, left-ish internet reading of this song is that it’s a revolutionary tale about toppling class hierarchy—getting a hold of wealth and bringing the institution that created it to its knees by… “fill[ing] the pool with champagne”? How much would that amount of champagne even cost? This is not a song about revolution. Taylor Swift didn’t storm into the Standard Oil house and burn it down or take it over; she bought it. It is not a song about destabilizing the ruling class. It’s a song about joining it.

It absolutely fucking slaps, unfortunately.

#taylor swift #folklore #i am putting this in the tumblr tags in lowkey hopes that a rabid taylor swift fan will see and come after me #come on that would be funny

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thecourtreportersportedjorts · 7 years ago

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Top 10 Best Hit Songs of 2017

In December of each year, Billboard publishes its list of the 100 biggest hit songs of the last 12 months. In response, I take it upon myself to decide which of these songs were the real hits, and which were the biggest misses. Last week, I tackled the worst, so here are the best. Let’s get started:

10. “Love Galore” by SZA feat. Travis Scott

When I see a fellow New Jersey artist rising up the charts and building a name for themselves, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a little too quick to douse them in praise. In 2015, I did it for Fetty Wap and Charlie Puth before they respectively waned in relevance and proceeded to pump out some of the decade’s worst music. SZA grew up mere minutes away from me, and after a few years just shy of the spotlight, she finally released her critically beloved debut album Ctrl in June. I took a few months to finally get to it, but once I listened to it, I found a beautifully produced, unflinchingly sincere record that delves into the nuances of youth, romance, mental health, and the various ways they intersect.

I wouldn’t even consider “Love Galore” an immediate highlight from the record, and yet it’s still an excellent song. I do have to take a point off for Travis Scott rambling about “ass and titties” in his verse, a needlessly juvenile moment in what’s otherwise a great slice of left-of-center-but-still-grown-and-sexy R&B. Still, his verse is fine altogether, and he sounds right at home over ThankGod4Cody’s production, which is built on off-kilter, reverb-soaked percussion and analog synths that aren’t too far removed from the Stranger Things score.

This is all well and good, but SZA steals the show all on her own, exploring the complications of reconvening with a former fling. There’s a core of darkness to the lyrics, making passing references to Valium and fetishes as she zeroes in on her partner’s seeming infidelity, but she can nevertheless enjoy the situation as “long as [they] got love.” And in a year chock full of godawful vocals excused for their “authenticity,” it’s so refreshing to hear a singer in the mainstream who sounds both organic and skilled. While I may not like this quite as much as “The Weekend” or “Drew Barrymore” or “20 Something,” it’s no less worth your time.

9. “Passionfruit” by Drake

It’s easy for me to start this entry the same way I did for “Too Good” last year, addressing how “Passionfruit” was a diamond in the relative rough of the lopsided More Life “playlist.” While there is some truth to that assessment, More Life is still a noticeable improvement over last year’s uncomfortable, overhyped VIEWS. Sure, it’s still questionable to hear Drizzy put on another new accent (I’d personally like to hear him attempt a Russian accent), but his curation of global sounds is sharper and more generous than ever, and with the exception of truly annoying cuts like “Nothings Into Somethings,” the lyrics are a lot less patronizing this time around. Despite this net positive, it still remains that “Passionfruit” is easily More Life’s best offering, and perhaps Drake’s best single since “Hold On, We’re Going Home.”

For one, “Passionfruit” is built on the same sort of subdued, late-night disco groove that made “Hold On” an instant classic. But the song goes for a stark contrast from the 2013 smash’s optimistic hookup, which is mirrored by the somber minor chords, gorgeous, muted synths, and what is apparently the manipulated sound of a flute. With the tempos of his songs seemingly dropping by the year, it’s good to hear Drake over something with a more propulsive groove again, and yet it still manages to mesh with his trademark atmospherics.

Of course, the lyrical content will always be the most contentious part of any Drake song, and it’s understandable to read “Passionfruit” as yet another retread of “Hotline Bling.” But where that song may have precariously toed the line between genuine concern and alarming possessiveness, the lyrics land a lot more comfortably this time. Even a lyric like “you got issues that I won’t mention” works far better as he seems to finally understand the consequences behind his words and his actions. The end result is Drake at his finest, low-key and calm while still navigating through the most challenging of emotions.

8. “Castle on the Hill” by Ed Sheeran

Now I know this pick will likely come as a surprise to anyone who saw my previous list, where I gave Ed Sheeran the thorough bashing he deserved. I ragged on him for his appearance, his awkward lyricism and his uninspired compositions. I’m sick of the guy at this point, but that’s because I genuinely want to like him. Ed has always shown a genuine talent for crafting songs with memorable hooks and interesting concepts, so doling out plodding love ballads like “Photograph” and cringeworthy radio ploys like “Shape of You” feels like the biggest possible waste of potential. So as tired as I am of hearing songs like these in 2017, “Castle on the Hill” was good enough to remind me why I cared in the first place.

If I could sum up the sound of “Castle on the Hill” in one sentence, it’d be that it sounds like what that mediocre last Mumford and Sons album wanted to be. Built on an insistent drum groove, warm bass, ghostly organs and guitar strumming that hurts my wrist just listening to it, the verses build up to a triumphant chorus indebted to Springsteen and U2. This is one of Sheeran’s more directly rock-flavored endeavors, so his aggressive howls on the chorus sound a lot better here than on “Thinking Out Loud,” and even his falsetto sounds more vivacious than usual.

And in the midst of an album cycle dominated by anonymous songs about sex and TV montage fodder that even Queen B couldn’t salvage, “Castle on the Hill” is the only (good) single that showcases Sheeran’s distinctive songwriting flair. It’s essentially a song about growing up, but where Lukas Graham got it all wrong, this song gets it right. Like on “7 Years,” Ed recounts his younger, troublesome self, running from authority and drinking with his friends. The difference is that he learns from his mistakes, thanks to the people and the town he was sought to defy in the first place. It’s the kind of vivid songwriting that Sheeran excels at, and if he keeps at it (which is a real possibility), he might very well regain a lost fan.

7. “HUMBLE.” by Kendrick Lamar / “LOYALTY.” by Kendrick Lamar feat. Rihanna

As I stated in my previous list, it’s been really interesting to see what the Billboard charts look like with streaming becoming a bigger part of the equation. I already addressed how album tracks can perform just as well as lower-tier singles. Kendrick Lamar’s excellent fourth album DAMN. boasts the best first week streaming numbers of any album released in 2017, and as a result, multiple cuts from the album remained on the charts for weeks on end. “ELEMENT.” and current single “LOVE.” charted high enough that if they had received the proper push as singles, I would probably be talking about them alongside the two singles that actually made the year end Hot 100, chart-topping “HUMBLE.” and the Rihanna collaboration “LOYALTY.”

“HUMBLE.” was the first proper taste of DAMN., which admittedly took some time to grow on me. Sure, the blisteringly sparse, piano-driven beat by Mike Will Made It commands direct attention to Kendrick’s coded, throne-claiming bars, but it’s a far cry from the rich history and experimentation that made To Pimp a Butterfly an all-time great rap album. Still, it’s important to remember that Kendrick - at least when he’s trying - infuses his songs with some really heady subtext. It’s easy to interpret this as K-Dot proving that he can do trap just as well as Future or Migos, if not better thanks to his skillful lyricism. In the context of DAMN., it’s also a warning from the Compton rapper to himself to not let his remarkable success eclipse his message or his roots. Coupled with an instantly memorable hook and quotables like “my left stroke just went viral,” “HUMBLE.” is a well-deserved first #1 for Kendrick.

Like its predecessor, followup single “LOYALTY.” is fairly skeletal in its production, based around a warped sample of “24K Magic” (of all things!). This time, Kendrick teams up with Rihanna, who continues to prove that she can come through with an impressive flow after “Bitch Better Have My Money” and “Needed Me.” The pair explore loyalty in regards to one’s friendships, relationships, faith and ambitions, creatively quoting Jay-Z and Ol’ Dirty Bastard in the process. While the lyrical content is certainly worthwhile, the main takeaway is that Kendrick and Rihanna have truly fantastic musical chemistry, which becomes all the more apparent when they trade bars during the verses. Like “HUMBLE.,” this track is further evidence that even with sights set squarely on the mainstream, Kendrick always aims high.

6. “Bodak Yellow” by Cardi B

When compiling these lists, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the critical acclaim or the social value a song might have. This works both ways - maybe this is what influenced me to place “7 Years” and “Treat You Better” as high I did on my worst list last year. But when Cardi B’s breakout single “Bodak Yellow” became the first single from a solo female rapper to top the Billboard Hot 100 since Lauryn Hill in 1998, I immediately wondered: is it a worthy successor? Considering how many critical outlets have named “Bodak Yellow” one of the best songs of the year (including Pitchfork and The Washington Post, who both named it the best song of the year), a lot of people seem to think so. And even though I wasn’t totally sold on the song at first, I’m now more than happy to join that chorus, because this song is fucking awesome.

In one of her legendary interviews, Cardi has stated that the title “Bodak Yellow” is a reference to rapper and awful human being Kodak Black, whose flow on “No Flockin” serves as the foundation for Cardi’s song. Unsurprisingly, she does an infinitely better job with his flow, not only because she doesn’t sound like she’s having an asthma attack, but because she also delivers each bar with such boundless energy. Unlike Kodak, she also knows when to switch up her flow, capping off both verses with an impressive, Migos-esque (!) flow. A lot of hip hop traditionalists might deride “Bodak Yellow” for a lack of originality, but it’s not about who did it first, it’s about who did it right.

Even the production on “Bodak Yellow” stands out from the trap pack. Sure, it’s built on a simplistic 3-note melody, but it alternates between octaves, creating an alluring sense of unease against the changing hi-hat progressions. But what really surprises is how restrained the song first seems in its low end, using the trademark sub bass kicks fairly conservatively. It gives you the impression that it’s building up to something, and then it happens: as Cardi speeds up her flow, the kicks return in full force, resulting in one of the hardest-hitting moments rap had to offer in 2017. In a year where women deserved so much better, Cardi B is a true force of good, proving that she can go harder than so many of her male contemporaries.

5. “I Feel It Coming” by The Weeknd feat. Daft Punk

If you’ve read any of my lists in the past two years, you probably felt this coming (pun very obviously intended). I’ve raved about The Weeknd so much since then that writing a fifth (sixth if you include “The Hills” from my honorable mentions in 2015) entry about him probably scans as blind fandom or ass-kissing. Truth be told, his 2013 major label debut Kiss Land hasn’t exactly aged well, and Starboy was an overlong, frequently redundant affair with occasional flashes of innovation. But the latter album’s closing track, “I Feel It Coming,” feels like a major change of pace, and perhaps a premonition of The Weeknd’s future.

Like the previous single, the chart-topping title track from Starboy, “I Feel It Coming” is yet another collaboration with famed French house duo. While “Starboy” sounded a lot like the duo’s own “Doin’ It Right,” a collab with Animal Collective’s Panda Bear and a notable outlier on Random Access Memories, this song is more akin to the warm, nostalgic disco that dominated the rest of that album. Hell, the robots even use their trademark vocoders on their own voices this time! As unstoppable as the groove of “Can’t Feel My Face” is to this day, never has Abel sung over something that sounded so happy.

Fortunately, he seems up to the challenge of matching this energy. Normally, The Weeknd albums end on a dour note - even the bombastic “Angel” was profoundly melancholic. In one of his most effortless vocal performances to date, Abel shows that he is finally ready to commit to a serious relationship. And while the potent sexuality is still right there in the goddamn title, it comes across as a moment of real, unadulterated joy rather than simply going through the motions of tour life. The Weeknd has proven time and time again that he can switch up his sound and still come through with smash hits, and if “I Feel It Coming” is any indication, that’s not changing any time soon.

4. “Redbone” by Childish Gambino

Holy shit, have I been waiting for this. I’m not necessarily talking about “Redbone,” Childish Gambino’s greatest success to date, but rather that success in and of itself. Like so many people, I discovered Donald Glover’s hip hop project after enjoying him as Troy in NBC’s Community, one of my all-time favorite TV shows. But despite his knack for solid hooks, colorful instrumentals and outright hilarious bars, it always felt like he was close to breaking into the mainstream without ever getting there. Maybe it was the polarized critical response to Camp or the obtuse production of Because the Internet, but it was only with last year’s funk departure “Awaken, My Love!” that his music clicked more universally.

“Redbone” wasn’t that album’s lead single, but it was by far its most successful, charting for nearly a whole year and peaking just outside Billboard’s Top 10. Arguably, it’s the weirdest hit song we’ve had this year: weird enough that it spawned one of the year’s more creative memes. As a whole, the song maintains a rare balance of paranoia and sensuality, the former of which is felt instantly with the intro’s distant strings and gently thumping kicks. But any sense of dread is mitigated by the slap bass, glockenspiel and the generally lush atmosphere. With perhaps the exception of SZA, mainstream R&B in 2017 hasn’t sounded this organic and alluring, even with the inclusion of the crunchy guitar leads or the muted, creepy-as-fuck background vocals in the intro.

Amidst all the window-dressing, this is still undoubtedly Donald Glover’s song, and his vocal and lyrical contributions capture the same balance just as exquisitely. Many have pointed out that he doesn’t even sound much like himself on “Redbone,” rather emulating Macy Gray’s trademark rasp. Despite the obvious point of influence, it’s still one of the many vocal performances on “Awaken, My Love!” that oozes with color and personality. It doesn’t distract from the unsettling lyrics, though, which double down on Gambino’s oft-critiqued insecurities about relationships and racial identity, but through a more mature and knowing lens, with a chilling mantra of “stay woke.”

And while it didn’t have an impact on its placement on this list, the particular case of the song’s success is worth celebrating. “Redbone” first charted out of anticipation for the album, but it returned to the hit parade thanks to its masterful use in Jordan Peele’s excellent film Get Out. Then came the memes, where the song was sung by various characters and played from a range of different spaces. It had a distinctive sound that somehow suited it to both uses, thus making it Glover’s highest charting song. This is the rare case where a great song isn’t rejected for its idiosyncrasies, but instead rightfully embraced.

3. “Slide” by Calvin Harris feat. Frank Ocean and Migos

But then again, Childish Gambino wasn’t the only one finding long-overdue chart success this year. Obviously, I’m not referring to Calvin Harris or Migos - the former has been pumping out hits since the turn of the decade to diminishing returns, and the latter had a banner year in 2017, with their very good single “Bad and Boujee” topping the Hot 100 for three weeks. “Slide” was partially Frank Ocean’s affair, too. After last year’s excellent, understated Blonde seemingly rebuked any desire for conventional pop stardom, the R&B crooner and former Odd Future affiliate proved that he can still write a fantastic pop song that can stick with just about anyone.

What’s particularly interesting about Frank’s contributions to “Slide” is that they aren’t even far removed from the music on Blonde. He still favors a more low-key vocal delivery, and he still manages to draw compelling character portraits in his lyrics. This time, it’s about a one-night stand where the protagonist isn’t so much interested in the sex itself, but vicariously living their partner’s more opulent lifestyle, referencing jewelery and Picasso’s famous Garçon à la pipe painting. But there’s still an underlying feeling of emptiness, exemplified in the line “wrist on a wrist, a link of charms, yeah / laying, we’re still a link apart.”

Complicated emotional situations have always been a characteristic of Ocean’s lyricism, for which he sets the scene with details that frequently read as non-sequiturs. But what makes “Slide” particularly interesting is how everybody else around him is up to the same task. Quavo and Offset of Migos appear for two insanely catchy and energetic verses, but the content feels peripheral to the established theme of the song. But these guys are part of one of the most in-demand rap acts of the year, so for Frank’s character to be rubbing shoulders with them does more to establish the scene. “Slide” is also further evidence of Offset’s skillful, malleable flow, and if his recent joint album with 21 Savage is any indication, he has great potential as a solo artist.

But what about Calvin Harris, the main artist responsible for this song? “Slide” was the lead single for his excellent album Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 1, and served as a dramatic departure from the more conventional EDM he’d been producing for years. Sure, singles like “This Is What You Came For” and “How Deep Is Your Love” flirted with organic instrumentation and classic dance grooves, but the shimmering keys, palm-muted funk guitars, and the irresistible bassline add up to one of his best tracks to date. It’s a perfect summer song that provides an opulent backdrop for Frank and Migos, and it still sounds fantastic in the dead of winter.

2. “DNA.” by Kendrick Lamar

Don’t think I forgot about this one. Over the course of this year’s lists, I’ve already gone on multiple times about the impact of streaming on the year-end charts. All of this is especially true when it comes to “DNA.,” the first full track from DAMN. Despite receiving an incredible music video starring Don Cheadle, it was never released as a single. And considering the aggression on display, as well as the lack of a real hook, why would it be? Nevertheless, thanks to Kendrick Lamar’s staggering popularity on streaming services, it landed a respectable spot midway on the year-end Hot 100. It’s another landmark worth discussing, but more importantly, “DNA.” is just a goddamn incredible song.

Rather than just dissecting the individual components of the song, I’m going to do my best to explain “DNA.” in a more linear fashion. Kendrick breaks through the gate in full-force, once again accompanied by Mike Will’s hard-hitting blend of trap drums, warped synths and ominous guitar loops. The first half of the song can be boiled down to K-Dot asserting that he was born for his current status as a rap god, even comparing his own birth to the immaculate conception. He recalls all his struggles growing up, living in the projects of Compton and encountering all the “murder, conviction, burners, booster, burglars, ballers,” etc. the city had to offer, crossing everything off as effortlessly as one would do for a shopping list.

Then, “DNA.” nears its two-minute mark. After a dazzling extended verse packed with personal detail, a sample of sleazy Fox-News-correspondent-cum-sexual-harrasser Geraldo Rivera actively dismisses Kendrick’s self-justification. He claims that Kendrick exemplifies everything wrong with young black culture in an unabashed show of victim-blaming. Then another sample comes in: the countdown from Freedom 7’s takeoff in 1961. As this happens, Kendrick speeds up his flow, and the beat changes, leading into what might be one of the greatest musical moments of the decade.

At this point, the production becomes even more sparse and dissonant, built mainly on a Rick James sample and the thickest, most face-melting sub bass imaginable. K-Dot offers an intense, well-deserved rebuttal to the thinly-veiled bullshit his critics ever-so-gleefully dole out. He knows that his success was earned through blood, sweat and tears, not “sex, money, murder,” and proceeds to “[curve] all the fakes” and others who seek to undermine him or his message. In an age where Donald Trump and the GOP have been nearly given carte blanche to oppress whoever the hell they want on any given day, it’s so cathartic to hear some resistance to their rhetoric in our popular music, especially when it’s this stunningly well-crafted.

And, just like last time, before I unveil my pick for the best hit song of 2017, here are eight honorable mentions:

“XO Tour Llif3″ by Lil Uzi Vert: “XO Tour Llif3” marks the first time Uzi’s music truly connected with me, capturing both the hedonism and the mental trauma he experienced while on tour with The Weeknd atop a fittingly off-kilter beat. His vocals are among the most impassioned I’ve heard all year, making the decision to nudge this off the list in favor of SZA a particularly tough one.

“1-800-273-8255″ by Logic feat. Alessia Cara and Khalid: Speaking of mental trauma, Logic’s breakout hit exists to lend a hand to those dealing with suicidal feelings. It sees the rapper and guest Alessia Cara acting respectively as a caller and a receptionist for the titular suicide hotline. Top that off with dramatic string swells and Khalid’s potent outro, and you have a song whose impact can’t be undermined, even by the shouts of “who can relate?”

“Sign of the Times” by Harry Styles: This is undoubtedly the best solo single to come out of the 1D camp, a power ballad reminiscent of David Bowie’s best that nails the particular desire to escape that we’ve all felt at some point this year. Cut the runtime by about a minute and you’ve got the perfect template for what mainstream rock should sound like in years to come, rather than whatever commercial filler comes from Imagine Dragons.

“Mask Off” by Future: I wasn’t wild about Future’s decision to release two overlong albums in the span of a week, but both albums had their highlights, and “Mask Off” was one of them. The beautiful “Prison Song” sample is the closest thing to old school hip hop in the mainstream this year, and Future delivers a sticky hook and the sort of secretly personal lyrics that have become his forte.

“Black Beatles” by Rae Sremmurd feat. Gucci Mane: Mike Will Made It hit a stride of excellence between “Formation” and “DNA,” and this song was caught in the middle of that period, boasting a dark, pounding beat topped with alien synths that sounded like little else in the Hot 100. Rae Sremmurd and Gucci Mane don’t really do much different from the norm, but the hook has an insanely catchy melody, and I’ll take anything over “Swang” at this point.

“That’s What I Like” by Bruno Mars: Look, pretty much everybody was hopping onto the trap bandwagon this year, but Bruno Mars made the sound his own by incorporating more organic percussion and a classic soul chord progression. The same goes for the lyrics about “strawberry champagne on ice” and “everything 24 karats.” You know, because the album and its lead single were both called “24K Magic”...

“Love on the Brain” by Rihanna: It’s the final single from Rihanna’s great comeback album Anti, and while I still think “Kiss It Better” should have been a lot bigger than it was, this is a perfectly fine piece of retro soul. 2016 was the end of the Meghan Trainor era, so it was only fitting that we ushered the new year in with what a song of hers might sound like if it were any good.

“Green Light” by Lorde: This didn’t make the year end Hot 100, so by my own arbitrary rules, I can’t formally include it, so I’ll just include it in the honorable mentions out of spite. How the fuck was this not a hit?

And now, for what I consider to be the best hit song of 2017:

1. “Praying” by Kesha

When I wrote my entry on the loathsome waste of space known as Kodak Black, I introduced it by addressing that content doesn’t exist without context. Sure, “Tunnel Vision” is a thoroughly unpleasant listening experience, but what makes it all the more abhorrent is how he lackadaisically prods at the very real allegations against him, all the while taunting those who want to see him lose. While that song is a very unfortunate reminder that rape culture is very much a real thing, it’s at least comforting to see a song from the other side of the spectrum.

Of the few criticisms I’ve seen of Kesha’s triumphant comeback single “Praying,” the only one that comes close to holding any water is if the song would hit nearly as hard if the details of the singer’s abuse at the hands of human shitstain producer Dr. Luke weren’t so well publicized. But for me, a song of this caliber can’t really be performed - let alone written - without this kind of experience. Over somber piano chords, Kesha recounts the feelings of uselessness and trickery she felt under Luke’s wing, only to overcome these feelings and make herself stronger as the haunting mellotron swells behind her. Her message is made all the more stark in the line “I hope you find your peace fallin’ on your knees.”

If this were all “Praying” was, I’d still adore it for its bold sincerity, but what certifies this song as the best of the year is the way the song builds. About halfway through the second verse, Kesha’s voice leaps an octave, and her tone shifts from vulnerable to utterly strident. Gradually, strings, backing vocals, pounding drums and horns enter the fold, giving way to the deeply moving second repeat of the chorus. And then the bridge happens, and after her crushing conclusion that “some things only God can forgive,” she lets out the note heard around the world. Though Kesha’s brand was established on semi-satirical autotune pop, it’s this moment that proves all her detractors horribly wrong in their assertion that she had “no talent.”

And while the high note is remarkable in and of its self, its potency is matched by the very end of the song, where the music fades away. As Kesha delivers her final lines, you can hear her crying as she steps away from the microphone. This moment is one of the rawest concentrations of lived-in emotion I’ve heard in the mainstream in years, and all the more evidence that this is real. Some people might call “Praying” the best Adele song that she never sang, but this is Kesha’s story. Unfortunately, it’s the story of far too many women in our society as well, but as more and more powerful men are being exposed and cancelled for their unacceptable treatment of women, this song couldn’t exist at a better time.

Thank you for reading! I’m considering writing about my favorite albums of the year, so if you’d like to see something like that, please let me know!

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thespecialrelationship-phff · 8 years ago

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Chapter 13

AN: A bit of a long one today but a good one I think! Enjoy!

Harry’s POV

“Sir, you’re staring.” Ed��s voice is quiet but firm.

I jerk slightly then realize I am in fact staring. I’m staring at her. She arrived about an hour ago and it’s used every ounce of my self-control to not immediately stride over to her. The aquatic stadium was a busy place today, with finals in all of the events.

It meant today was a long day, meeting lots of people. And when Kennedy arrived I got to see just how she would act with the crowd.

She looked beautiful, just like she did this morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low, messy knot, a few wisps framing her face. She looks like spring personified: the yellow dress with the flowers, her sun kissed skin. And her legs, long lean. After this morning I know they’re smooth to the touch as well.

To everyone else though she looks untouchable. I watched as she first arrived. People looked at her with a sort of reverence, respect but all at a distance.

At first, I was afraid she would maintain the distance, put on her old mask of ‘Margaret’. I watched as she slowly brought out her true self. She was laughing and talking with groups of people. She walked with her usual confidence but with a more casual air. It was intoxicating.

Just like I predicted the people responded. Gone were the looks of reverent veneration, replaced with genuine appreciation.

Beyond that she looks happy. And she looks bloody beautiful when she’s happy.

“Harry.” Ed admonishes again.

Slowly I shift my eyes away from her, hopefully no one noticed. “Thanks.”

I focus on the Relay happening in front of me, determined not to keep staring at Kennedy. I can’t fully focus though. I watch but don’t notice much of the outcome. My clapping is half a beat too late.

“I think you could justify going over now.” Ed remarks. He doesn’t have to be specific. I know exactly what and who he’s talking about.

I didn’t tell Ed happened this morning or last night. But the man probably knows more than he lets on. Sometimes he’s too good at his job.

“I’ll make my way over.” I say evenly or at least try to.

I walk over stopping to talk to competitors and families along the way, all the while keeping one eyes on Kennedy.

She’s near one of the starting blocks surrounded by members of the American, British and Estonian teams. Of course I can’t tell what they’re talking about but she has all of the men entranced. They’re all hanging on every word.

I lower my voice, “Those are members of the British team right?”

“Yes. Fergus Hurst and Luke Reeson. I’m not sure where the other members are.”

I nod, knowing that I now have a legitimate reason to approach the group. Our relay had won the gold medal and I have yet to congratulate the team since the medal ceremonies are held later this evening.

Fergus happens to glance up and see me, “Prince Harry!” He exclaims.

Kennedy turns her head and we lock eyes. They’re bright, shining today. She really is happy.

“Mates!” I hold open my arms. “Congratulations!”

We exchange a quick hug. “Well done.”

Fergus smirks, “Thank you. It felt good. Finally win something from those Americans.” His gaze slides over to Kennedy.

She shakes her head with a smile, “Don’t make us challenge you guys to a rematch.”

One of the American swimmers nods then leans close to her, whispering. “They won’t do it. They know it was just a fluke.”

A chorus of ‘ohs’ fills our small circle.

“Maybe Kennedy can be the judge.” Fergus adds, still staring at Kennedy. My neck prickles. I don’t like the way he’s focused on her.

“I would be happy to.” She shrugs. “Of course we would have to keep it open to Estonia as well.”

She gestures to those athletes, “Would you be up for it?”

The four men exchange a look then quickly shake their heads. “We know when to step away.” The man steps forward and clasps Kennedy hands, placing a brief kiss on her knuckles. “It was truly an honor to meet you Miss Randolph.”

Slowly Kennedy turns her hand over and pulls the man close for a kiss on the cheek. “Sincerely, the pleasure was all mine.”

The man is enchanted as he walks away, his skin colored with just the slightest flush. Receiving the full attention of Kennedy is no easy thing. I know first-hand it can be overwhelming.

Now that it’s just Kennedy, the Americans and us Kennedy sighs. “Sorry gentlemen, no rematch.”

“Damn.” Fergus pauses. “We’ve been meaning to ask you something Miss Randolph.”

“Oh?” She turns her head to the GB Relay team.

“Any recommendation for our last two days in beautiful Orlando?”

The question seems casual but I can feel the tension rolling off the American athletes. I know Fergus is a flirt, we’ve run into one another before, but hitting on the First Lady is too far even for him.

She blinks, “Hmm. You know, I would make sure you see Epcot, get a pair of mouse ears.”

It’s a completely appropriate response, but I latch onto the fact that she mentioned Epcot. Was that a veiled reference to last night? God, I really want it to be.

“Standing offer to accompany us.” Fergus continues holding up his hands.

Her mouth parts slightly, no doubt wondering the best way to turn down the offer.

Then Brett Parks, a member of the American team intervenes. He throws a casual arm around her shoulders, “Sorry mate, Miss Randolph already promised to celebrate this evening with our team.”

She pauses for a second probably wondering how appropriate it is for him to have his arm around her. Then I watch as she relaxes and even leans into the veteran. “Yes. I’m sorry.” Then her gaze slides to mine. “I’m sure Prince Harry would be happy to celebrate with you all.”

The guys chuckle, “It would be legendary.”

I nod, “You have my number. Let me know what you guys are getting into this evening.” I say, already knowing that I’ll have some sort of excuse. There’s only one thing on my agenda for tonight and she’s standing there with another man’s arm wrapped around her.

I’m proud enough to admit that I hate the sight, even though I know Parks is a good guy. He was probably acting in her defense but still…she was in my arms hours ago. I want to feel her against mine again.

And I want a minute alone with her now. “How are you enjoying the swimming events?”

Her lips purse slightly, no doubt remembering just what our code stands for. “Immensely. I always loved to swim.”

One of the guys agrees but I stay focused on Kennedy.

I shrug, “I always thought it depended on who was in fact swimming.” I tilt my head to the side. “Right?”

She’s staring at me, smiling now, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I’m sure the same is reflected in my eyes.

Fergus jumps in again, “I don’t think so. Swimming is swimming.”

Kennedy bites her lips, then shakes her head. “I’ll have to disagree with you on that one. It very much depends on just who’s doing the swimming.”

I need to get her alone again. I’m wracking my brain for a way for the two of us to have a private moment.

Ed interrupts then, speaking just slightly louder then he usually does. “Sir, your needed for the interview with the Centennial.”

I nod, knowing that the group has heard Ed’s statement. I also know that I have no interview with that publication scheduled for this afternoon. He’s good. “Of course.” I snap my fingers. “Miss Randolph, isn’t this the joint interview?”

Her eyes widen just slightly, the only thing that betrays her surprise. “Right.” She sighs. “So unfortunately gentlemen, I have to leave you. Team GB, well done today, but don’t get too comfortable at the top of the podium.”

She turns to the Americans and smiles. “Good job guys. I’m so proud of you. Seriously, thank you for the incredible performance.”

All of them smile, another group of people successfully enraptured by her charm. Quickly they pose for a picture before the two of us walk away.

We fall into step with one another, our entourages around us.

“Do you really have plans this evening?” She asks.

“An old friend of mine is coming over for dinner. But you’re more than welcome to come.” I told Lovell that he had to at least have one meal with me while he was here. Unfortunately, it has to be tonight.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

I shrug, “You either come over for dinner or you come over right after. I’m just trying to make the best use of our time.”

“How timesaving of you.”

I chuckle, “I’m just looking for the most efficient way to go swimming again.”

It’s easy to get lost in our report, but I have to remember that we are still in public with plenty of prying eyes and listening ears.

She bites her lip then glances at me, keeping her head straight forward. “How do you feel about skinny dipping?”

Skinny dipping, swimming but without clothes. If she’s speaking literally or within our code I don’t know and I don’t care. I would be in total support of either. A hot flash runs through my body. I can vividly remember the feel of her pressed up against me, only the thin material of her dress separating me from her.

I take a slow breath, making sure my voice is even when I respond. “My favorite type of swimming.” I pause. “Well, beyond the breast stroke that is.”

She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth to cover up the laugh. Paul interjects, “Miss?”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m fine Paul.”

We come to a stop near the exit. “Do you actually have plans with the American athletes?”

“I don’t. I just think Brett very politely saved me from having to turn down Fergus.”

“I knew I always liked him.”

“Jealous?” She asks.

I shrug, choosing to play it cool. “Why would I be jealous of a fling?”

She looks up at me, but I can’t read her. Is she offended? Fine?

For a moment the two of us just stay silent. Then her lips purse. “Good point. Could you send me Fergus’ number then?”

I can’t help but scowl.

A slow, confident smile appears on her face. It’s triumphant and sexy as ever. “That’s what I thought.”

I step closer, wanting her to know that she doesn’t get to win all of our tete-a-tetes. “Don’t pretend that I’m the only one wanting here Kennedy. I had your sweet body pinned against a wall this morning with nothing but a staircase protecting us. And that didn’t stop you from sighing, moaning, wanting.” I pause, letting the image sink in. “I only want more.”

With a quick glance around to ensure there are no prying eyes, I grasp her chin in my hands, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes have taken on a dreamy quality again. “Tease me sure, I can take it. But don’t push too far. I would hate to deny either of us the pleasure.”

She watches me with hooded eyes, processing my words slowly. Then her tongue peeks out to run over her lips, now glistening. She nods almost imperceptibly, “Understood.”

I brush my thumb over her cheekbone, “Good.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” Then she’s gone.

Once the events for the day are finished it’s late but I still insist that Lovell still come over for dinner and drinks. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him and I refuse to waste this opportunity.

I order steak from room service as well as some beer and whiskey, remembering that those were his favorite. Hopefully that will help the bridge the gap of the last three years.

I’m pacing when there’s a knock on the door. With a deep breath I open it. My old friend is standing there dressed casually again with a slightly nervous look on his face. I see him tense as if to come to attention.

“Parker, mate, come on in.” I interrupt, not wanting any protocol. He flashes an uneasy smile but enters my suite.

I close the door then turn to look at him place his bag on the counter. I can’t help but notice the slight limp I swallow thickly. This could be difficult. “Make yourself at home. The food is on the table.”

He nods but doesn’t move away from the counter.

“Is everything okay?”

He looks over at the food then back at me then winces. Shit, what’s wrong? I panic and am ready to ask again when he speaks.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“What?” I blurt out.

“I’m a vegetarian now.” He repeats.

“Uh-“

“I know it’s crazy.”

“No, no, not at all.” I assure then approach the room phone my mind racing. “I’ll just order something else.”

“Sorry mate, I don’t mean to put you out.”

“Not a problem.” I look over to the alcohol. “You still drink?”

He glances at me, “Now I’m insulted.” He then chuckles. “Of course I still drink.”

I laugh as well the tension dissipating slightly. “Good.”

“I can still drink you under the table too.” He adds.

I look over to him, standing there with that cocky smirk on his face. He looks exactly has I remember him, short dark hair, tan skin, maybe a little leaner but still Parker.

“You’re staring.”

I let out a sigh of relief, “It’s just really good to see you mate.”

He ducks his head but smiles, “Likewise.” Slowly he walks over to me and we hug tightly. He pats me on the back. “Let’s open that whiskey while we wait on my food.”

We’re catching up, drinking, eating reminiscing. It feels good. Parker and I always got along. I don’t think I realized how big of a void he really left.

“So, what do you think about the Games?”

He sets his bottle down, “I have to say it’s incredible. I had no idea it was going to be this…this…” He’s searching for the right word.

“Big?”

“Good.” He laughs and I just snort.

“Thanks for the confidence.”

“No, no, seriously. Everything has been amazing. I didn’t know there would be so many competitors.”

I nod, “I know. It still surprises me. You should come out for Toronto next year.”

He winces.

“Or not.”

Slowly he puts his bottle down. “This week was a big step for me. Hell, meeting up with you was a big step.”

I stay quiet even though hundreds of questions are rushing through my head.

Parker stares down at his hands, “You’re the first one I’ve seen since the hospital.”

I wait, wondering if he’ll add anything more.

He sighs and rubs one hand over his head, “Look, I don’t have to tell you it’s bloody fucking hard to come back to civilian life and then with everything else.”

“I get it.”

“But do you?” He retorts sharply. Then he sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re entitled to how you feel.” I know how important those words can be.

“Right. But I’m not angry at you. It took me a long time to realize that. It took me a long time to separate it all, the anger, the grief, the hopelessness. At first the anger was easiest and then avoiding it was all easiest.” He look up at me our gazes lock. And I can still see the pain in his eyes but I see so much more of the young soldier I knew. “I’m getting there Wales, I really am.”

I grab his arm and squeeze. “There’s no rush Rex. I’m here for you always.”

He grasps mine as well a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Thank you.”

My comrade and friend pours two healthy shots, “To the 6-6-2.”

“6-6-2.” We knock back the shots. I cough slightly. “Just like old times.”

“Right. Except you have less hair.” He jokes.

“Hey now.”

“And I have less legs.” He adds with a smirk. “I think you got the better deal Wales.”

I laugh along, knowing that it’s part of coping with it all. He’s comfortable in his body that’s important. I get it, other veterans would get it even if civilians wouldn’t.

We relax choosing to bring the alcohol over to the sitting area instead of the table. “Now, you have to tell me what’s going on between you and the fuckin’ First Lady of the United States.”

“Nothing.” Which isn’t technically a lie.

“Bullocks. It’s all over the internet.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

He just shakes his head, “You’re still a shit liar.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.” I say diplomatically.

He just rolls his eyes, “The whole bloody world knows that. That doesn’t answer my question.”

I sip on my beer. “We’re friends.”

“Are you friends or are you friends?”

I stay silent.

“You lucky bastard.” He’s come to his own conclusions and I don’t correct him. It’s not like he would believe me anyways. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I didn’t doubt it.” I glance down at my watch. “If you stay a little longer you’ll meet her.”

“What?”

“She’s coming over.” I explain. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Really?” He looks awed for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“I would love to meet her. And my mum would go mental.”

I grab another beer, “I’ll warn you though she’s a little different in person then she appears in the press or in public.”

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way.” I clarify. “Frankly I like her more now that I’ve gotten to know the real her.”

“Interesting.”

Maybe thirty minutes later there’s a knock on the door. Parker blanches. I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t tell me your nervous.” Conveniently I’ve forgotten that I was quite nervous the first time I met her as well.

“She’s the fucking First Lady, mate.”

“And what am I?”

“You’re just Wales to me.”

He has a good point I suppose. I walk over to the door still chuckling to myself. Parker is standing fixing his shirt. He’s lost it I think.

I open the door and immediately glance down. She’s not wearing heels this evening, so her head meets my shoulder. I glance down and notice a fair bit of bare skin. Her white top has thin straps with an open neck and stops a good few inches before her bellybutton. But she’s wearing a long beige skirt to balance it out. She looks comfortable, relaxed, her long hair in loose waves. “Hey.”

I smile, “Hey.”

She looks over my shoulder, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah of course, sorry.” I step to the side and let her walk past me.

I go to introduce Parker to Kennedy and I’m struck with a dilemma. Bloody hell, I don’t know which name to use. Kennedy? Margaret? Miss Randolph? My mouth opens but no sound comes out.

“Uh-.”

Luckily Kennedy steps towards Parker, “Hello, lovely to meet you.” She holds out her hand. I notice that she doesn’t specifically introduce herself by name.

Parker for his part is probably so starstruck he doesn’t notice. His eyes are glazed over gazing at Kennedy like she’s a goddess. Can’t say I blame him. He hasn’t said anything, just stared. Kennedy’s hand is still out there.

Puzzled, she glances back at me. I shrug then cough loudly.

That breaks Parker out of his trance. “Oh, shite.” Then he slaps his hand to his mouth. “Shite, sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll start over.”

Kennedy smiles warmly. “Not a problem.”

Finally Parker steps forward and shakes her hand, “Miss Randolph, my lady, it’s an honor to meet you. Lieutenant Parker Lovell at your service.” Then he bows.

I roll my eyes. I’ve never seen Parker act like this and he’s met actual royalty before. Kennedy laughs lightly. “Parker, nice to meet you, but really none of that is necessary.”

She glances back towards me, “In fact, call me Kennedy, I insist.”

I can’t help but smile at that. I step closer and quickly brush my hand against hers. “Come sit, how do you feel about whiskey?” Parker just stares. “What?”

“I didn’t think you drank something like whiskey.” He blurts out.

“There’s a lot people don’t know about me.” Kennedy says. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Parker shakes his head still partially in disbelief, “No disappointment at all.”

I shrug as I pour Kennedy a drink, “I told you Rex.”

“So you did.”

“Do I want to know what you two are referring to?” Kennedy asks.

“I just told Rex not to believe everything the press has made you out to be.” I pause. “You’re better in person.”

“Flatterer.” She responds. “Rex?”

Parker nods, “Old military nickname. We all had them.”

Kennedy eyes sparkles, “Oh? Harry what was yours?”

“Wales.” I respond immediately.

“Bullocks! You have to tell her the real one.”

She looks at me obviously intrigued as she crosses one leg over the other. “Come on then.”

I sigh, “It’s really not that special.” Parker just raises his brow, no doubt ready to reveal it on my behalf. I take a little sip of the whiskey. “Houdini.”

Her brows furrow, “What in the world?”

I glare at Parker. This isn’t really what I wanted to discuss this evening. “After the escape artist.”

I explain shortly. Hopefully the two will let it drop. But I can see that Kennedy is intrigued she looks over at Parker silently pleading with her eyes. I know my old friend doesn’t stand a chance.

I lean back, thoroughly unamused at this development. Gesturing to Parker I wave him on. “Well go on then.”

He turns to Kennedy, “I won’t go too in depth, but we got into some sticky situations out there. I think the government decided it was best if most people didn’t know.”

“Well combat is combat. It was dangerous.”

He nods, “Right, but sometimes…it’s hard to explain to a civilian. But the important bit is that Harry here got out of every scrap. Like impossible things. Things no one should have survived, but he always got out. He always…escaped.”

I glance over to Kennedy to see her reaction. Her expression is blank, not necessarily confused but just bland.

Parker leans forward, excited now. “Harry was out on a mission once and the intelligence was faulty. The chopper flies right into enemy fire on two probably three sides. Some of the best pilots in the world couldn’t make it through that but you know who did? Houdini. That’s fucking who.”

Kennedy looks uncomfortable now, her hands clasped on her knees. Her knuckles white.

“Pretty good considering what would happen if they got you.” Parker takes a sip of his drink. “Taliban would have done some nasty shite, right mate?”

I nod absently but I’m still looking at Kennedy, she’s gone white now. Instinctively I reach out, placing my hands over hers. I squeeze, but her hands remain clasped.

Parker glances over then coughs self-consciously. “It’s all good now. We’re all safe. In the long run no worse for the wear…well mostly.”

Kennedy’s eyes have glazed over, lacking focus on anything. Parker looks at me with concern. I focus on Kennedy, wondering just what’s going on in that head of hers.

“Let’s play a game.” I clap my hands. “You up for it Kennedy?”

She blinks rapidly, “Yeah of course.”

I pull out a quarter, “Flip: Sip or Strip.”

A few hours later the three of us are utterly drunk. It turns out Kennedy is rather talented at flipping quarters. While Parker and I are shite at it. At some point Kennedy slipped off her shoes and curled up next to me on the couch. My arm drapes around her shoulders casually.

“So what is going on between the two of you?” Parker slurs.

Kennedy glances up at me and shrugs, “Isn’t that the million-dollar question?”

“You do look like a good couple. Fucken adorable.”

I laugh, “Thanks, I think.”

Parker leans his head back, “Could you imagine? Having the First bleedin Lady as a Princess?”

She snorts then waves her hand dismissively, “That will never happen.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that, love.” I nudge her.

“Ohhhh.” Parker adds, stirring the pot.

She smiles up at me, drunk but happy. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Ouch!”

I just shake my head. Even in my inebriated state I know what she means. The First Lady can’t be married to a foreign Prince, at least not while her dad’s the president. She tips her head back and mouths quick sorry. I shrug and just pull her closer. God, it’s nice to just hold her. I rub my hands up and down her arm, trying not to focus on the way her position forces her breasts into a tempting valley.

“God, kiss her already.”

I blush and Kennedy just looks away sheepishly. “I should probably head back, it’s late.”

I frown at that. So much for making the most of our time together. But then I glance over at Parker; he’s beginning to snore. Yes, the night is well and truly over.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t-.”

“I’m walking you back.” I insist.

“Damn Prince Charmings.”

“We’re the worst.” I stand up and pull her to her feet. “Easy there.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t pretend you’re not drunk too.” She sticks out her tongue in the most adorable manner. “Goodnight Lieutenant, lovely to meet you.”

He just waves absently.

Kennedy and I are both laughing when we step out into the hall. Our security teams nod politely when we emerge. Kennedy sways as she walks down the hall, shoes in hand. “Thank you for escorting me home. You know the walk is so long, and dangerous.”

I nod solemnly, “There’s always these creepy guys in suits and aviators following you.”

She gasps theatrically, “Wait, really?”

I love seeing her like this, relaxed, languid and most importantly happy. We reach her door. Damn I don’t want to leave.

She turns towards me, her back to the closed door. “So, Lieutenant Lovell is nice.”

“He is.” I rock back and forth on my heels, very aware that the secret service is just twenty feet from us and watching.

“Wanna see a trick?” She asks, her eyes sparkling with trouble…and whiskey.

“Of course.”

She leans forward, then waves her hand at her agents who promptly move down the hall until they disappear. “Ta-da.”

“That might be my favorite trick.” I reply.

“Oh, I have better ones.”

Heat rushes through my body at her innuendo. I’m filled with thoughts, dirty, depraved but wonderful thoughts.

I bracket her against the door my hands on either side of her head. I lean down and press my lips to hers. I don’t start slow, no I want her and this first kiss is a symbol of my pent up feelings. I urge her lips to submit to mine wanting everything.

She acquiesces, her tongue tangling with mine. I smirk and go in deeper. She sighs and meets me for every stroke of my tongue with hers. She tastes like whiskey and honeyed caramel. I move forward, pinning her to the door.

Her arms wrap around my shoulders bringing me close. Her body pressed against mine. I can feel her skin seeping through my skin shirt and her pert soft breasts. I moan, pressing forward to her most intimate place just slightly.

I’m rewarded with a gasp.

I pull my lips away from hers, running my tongue over the corner one last time. Her cheeks are tinted pink, her eyes glazed. I run my lips along her jaw before tugging on her ear lobe. Her hips press closer to mine. Slowly I smile then place a hand on her chin forcing her to remain still. “Want to see my trick?”

Her chest rises and falls, but she nods.

I run my hand along her cheek before briefly dipping down to caress her throat. I tighten my hand over so slightly, forcing her head back just for a moment. Her hooded eyes meet mine and I look down. Her chest is thrust out, her body arched, desire personified.

My hand smooths down her skin, noticing the bumps of her collar bone, the pillowing hill of her breast the tautness of her stomach. Those aren’t my destination. No, I have a bigger prize.

Blood is roaring in my ears as I roughly hike up her skirt, moving the layered fabric out of my way.

Forcefully I pull her knee up and out. Then my fingers trace the delicate crease where her thigh meets her hips. I look up at her, locking eyes as I slide two fingers into her center. Her eyes widen on a moan. Fuck yeah.

She’s wet, slick beneath my fingers. I slide closer letting my thumb play with that tight bundle of nerves. She jerks and she tightens around me. “God, you’re wet Kennedy.”

She tips her head back, “Harry…”

Her breathless plea calls to something primal within me and I know I can’t, wouldn’t dream of denying anything that she would ask of me.

“I know, I know.” I pump my fingers in and out of her, twirling her clit. “I’ve got you. Just don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Look at me while I have my fingers in you.”

She gasps whether at my words or actions I don’t know. All I know is that I want her to make that sound again. Her hand pulls my face towards her smashing her lips against mine. Her movements are frantic, rushed. Almost as much as mine.

“Can you take more?” I ask, my voice rough my breath fanning over her face. “Kennedy?”

I stop for a second. She whines, “Please.”

I smile, running my lips around her forehead, “Please what love?”

“I need…” She thrust her hips forward and then back. She does it again, grinding herself on my hand. Bloody hell that’s sexy.

“That’s it, love.” I bite her ear lobe. “Come on my fingers. I want it.”

She arches her back and I thrust in a third finger then put pressure on her sweet spot. She moans. “I’m close.”

“Come on Kennedy.” I feel her tighten around my fingers wishing to god it was my cock instead. She’s close, I swoop down and cover her exclamation with a kiss. Her fingers go rigid against my shoulders.

I feel her relax in my arms. Gently, I place a kiss on her nose, murmuring sweet nothings.

“Ahem.”

I freeze as does Kennedy. Carefully, I turn my shoulders shielding her from the person. Then make sure her skirt is covering her and my hand. Slowly I remove my hand.

Kennedy looks panicked, all traces of pleasure gone.

Then I turn to see who was there. Fuck.

It’s Paul. I’m not entirely sure what he does or who he is but I know Kennedy despises the man. He’s pointedly staring at Kennedy, ignoring me. “Miss Randolph, perhaps you should go inside.”

She nudges me back then glares at Paul. “Paul, go fuck yourself.” Then she places a quick kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight.”

She slips into the room leaving only Paul and I. At least we’re alone until my security reappears. I move to walk around Paul but he steps in my path. I raise my brow. “Something to say?”

“We would advise you to stay away from any members of the Randolph Administration.”

“Oh you would?” I step closer and lower my voice. The fucking coward won’t look me in the eyes at first. “I advise you to not spy on intimate moments between consenting adults. I don’t think that’s a story that needs to get out.”

He’s silent.

“And in the words of Miss Randolph, ‘Fuck you Paul.’” I hit my shoulder against his as I walk away.

AN: So...ummm yeah ;) Have a great day!

#thespecialrelationship #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry #phff

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bullymagnetweek-blog · 8 years ago

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Hitball: The Musical - Bullymagnet Week Day 5

AN: so this is like super late and hardly even bullymagnet but *shrug* i listened to high school musical on repeat for six hours for this so here we go. i apologise in advance for the cheesy lyrics. also again the formatting bc what. - KindleSpark

SUMMARY: Retelling of the hitball arc, but everyone’s singing and it’s even more dramatic than it already was. Suzy has a blackmailing song. Johnny and Max have a theme. Jeff’s monologue is now a villain number. Enjoy. (I’m sorry).

Max is expecting a huge trumpet fanfare to start what is apparently a high stakes middle-school dodgeball game, but instead all Coach Oop does is blow a small ‘toot’ on his whistle

It still has everyone sprinting as fast as they can to get to the middle of the court, though. Max lingers back as Johnny and Isabel lunge for the balls, pulling off stunts no middle-schooler (or anyone for that matter) should be able to do. Someone’s already in the bleachers in the first two seconds.

Everyone’s taking this pretty damn seriously, Max realises. A ball comes spinning his way and he quickly side steps it. Well, at least dodging is his forte.

Thump. Thump Thump.

Speaking about forte.

Squeak thump.

Max should’ve seen this coming.

Thump. Thump thump.

Sneakers hit the floor, and balls whiz past rhythmically. There’s a beat humming through the gym.

“Burnhounds.” Menacing whispers come from the other team.

“Shockodiles.” The response is immediate, perfectly in rhythm.

Max suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Mayview is dramatic enough to have a song for a middle-school dodgeball game. He feels the beat instinctively, feet slipping side to side in sync. Sure, songs happened all the time, and he wasn’t against them or anything, but they usually only started up when it came to something significant. He vaguely wonders if it’s just a well-known hitball theme… but no, hitball was only introduced today. He shrugs. It’s probably just a Mayview thing. The drama never ends.

“Burnhounds!”

“Shockodiles!”

The chanting continues. Swung quavers and a shuffle-likebeat, Max notes. He shouts along as the music reaches its peak.

Thump. Thump thump.

“HITBALL!” The gym cries in unison. Max spoke too soon. Those were definitely trumpets.

He leaps to the side, dodging and twisting past the balls. Songs always push his movements along, it’s so much easier to step and move when there’s a beat driving you forward. The melody surges inside him, and he’s buzzing with expectation.

Isabel starts up, and Max grins. Most people have a specific style or instrument their songs most occur in, and she’s perfect for this. Of course, she wouldn’t be singing if she wasn’t, but he’s still impressed.

“Hey Burnhounds, we’re gonna tear you asunder,

‘coz us Shockodiles are lightning and thunder.

Hey Burnhounds, get ready to stop drop and roll,

‘coz the flames you’re holding’ll be reduced to coal.”

Max watches as she dances her way across the court, singing all the way. At the end of her verse, she pelts the Golden Switch she’s holding directly towards Lisa, hitting her just as she’s distracted by Ed.

“Haha, yesss! We’re stacked.”

Thump thump.

The chorus starts just as aggressively as the verse, and Max finds himself singing with the rest of the team as they taunt the other side, balls bouncing and stomps shaking the floor as the music roars at a peak.

“Get ready, get ready for hitball,

Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles!”

Max feels the title drop resonate through him. Ah man, he can’t deny he’s having fun. Max hides a grin as Johnny’s verse springs up from the other side, responding to Isabel’s threats in perfect rhyme.

“Hey Shockodiles, hope you’re ready for this game,

‘coz you’ll need more than water to put out this flame.

Hey Shockodiles, you’re up for a treat,

‘coz us Burnhounds ain’t afraid to turn up the heat!”

He whips two balls out in sync, and Max grimaces as he watches both of them hit their mark. The chorus comes back in, and now both teams begin to sing the chorus, lines whipping back and forth as fast as the balls are. Somewhere in between the chorus and the next verse, Max hears the raspy voice of… was that kid levitating?

“Dag, sons! These burnhounds are wiggity wiggity worse than homework!”

You know what, he’s just gonna ignore that one. The music pauses just as the bridge comes in, and Max finds himself itching to sing. Oh man, he’s one of the main vocalists? The songs hadn’t stopped coming since he moved here, and he much preferred background vocals.

“Hey Matrix, try contributing! The game’s not called dodgeball!” Isabel shouts at him.

Oh good, it’s a private conversation. He sighs in relief. At least these parts usually play underneath the main song, with the rest of the singers are often oblivious.

“Stop deflecting!” Isabel roars.

A ball collides perfectly into the one he’s holding, ricocheting to the side.

Max deadpans. “But clearly that is an important part of the spor-”

Isabel shoves the ball into his face. The music quietens, and the beat disappears, something more lyrical starting up.

“Max, are we clear on what I said on the train?

I hope I didn’t mislead you, I mean, I’m trying to explain…”

Max baulks. Nope. He’s not talking about this now. Thankfully, the music complies and his lyrics quickly interrupt hers.

“Most ghosts really can’t-“

“Looks like someone needs me over there.” Max shouts awkwardly, edging his way out of the song. “I’m just gonna go-“

“HOW DID YOU KNOW??”

The music screeches to a halt as Max comes face to face with a terrifyingly delighted Suzy.

———

Oh my god, she has a blackmailing song.

Collin’s slumped shoulders tell him this isn’t just a one-off melody, it’s an actual honest-to-god theme. Max cannot believe his own eyes. Or ears. Jagged string lines bounce eerily off each other, dissonant and harsh. Suzy sings along delightedly, and Max has a sense of incoming doom as she rattles off high-pitched lines and exposition. He tries not to let the panicky music get to him.

“You know what that means, Max? Don’t hold your breath.” Suzy sings, music stopping just before it reaches the final note. Max is sweating “It means jumping through a school bus is now punishable…”

Silence. Max is pretty sure he knows what’s coming.

“BY DEATH.” He was right.

“Suspension.” Collin interrupts. Max’s brain has zoned out, and he’s imagining all the horrible ways his dad’s gonna sacrifice him in if Max gets suspended.

“No, no! My Dad’ll kill me…!”

Suzy lets out a cackle. “I’m always right in the end, see?”

The song, unfortunately, doesn’t end there.

“Now now, Max, it’s okay, don’t be so hyperbolic.

It’s not like anyone knows you did it, I’m not that vitriolic.

No one has a clue, it’s just been rumours, don’t you see?

It’s not like anyone knows you did it… Well. Nobody…”

Oh. Max hates everything. “but y-“

“But me!” Suzy’s smile holds six different layers of evil, and Max is ready to embrace death.

———

“I hate people like you!

And you, and you!!”

Max recoils as Nega-Jeff actually begins to sing. There’s something different about his voice too, an underlying tone that doesn’t sound right. The accompanying music is all wrong and twisted, not like Jeff at all. Something’s very wrong.

“Self-centered, without a scrap of ambition,

Warriors of whim, without proper cognition.

You’ve still yet to reach your brains’ higher functions!

Honestly. What a waste of good violence.”

Max watches as Johnny flinches back, and he can tell that particular line was in one of Johnny’s songs as well. He scowls. Low blow.

“Kindness without a code, cruelty that isn’t calculating,

can’t you see it serves no purpose, your stupidity is infuriating!

The true power of violence isn’t just to entertain,

I hope you’re ready to learn a lifelong lesson in pain!”

Isabel’s up to something in the background, and Max really hopes she can come up with something while this Jeff imposter is singing. He lights up as Isabel flings balls their way, hope rising within him, well. Until Johnny catches one and sends her to the bleachers. Ughhh.

———

Max smirks. Johnny was pretty selfless when it counted. I mean sure, dismissing his friends did leave the two of them stuck with Jeff, but Max wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, don’t let Nega-Jeff get too deep under your skin, okay?” Max says. “Everything else aside, caring about your jerk friends isn’t a flaw. It’s your sole redeeming quality.”

Johnny chuckles, smiling. “Heh.”

Something swells inside Max, and it takes him a second to realise it’s the beginning of… a theme. Just an instrumental, apparently, but it still surprises him. He doesn’t even have a proper theme with the activity club yet, and yet the moment he’s alone with Johnny… Weird. Stagnant ostinatos, melody on the bass, and… was that the sound of clashing metal as the beat? Unconventional, but it worked. It fits perfectly, and Max already loves it. He can feel himself buzzing with anticipation for the showdown, comforted with the thought Johnny was by his side. He makes a face. Oh man, that was cheesy. Songs really brought every embarrassing thought to the forefront.

“Ready to win this, Johnny?” Max barks, spectral energy igniting on instinct.

Johnny grins, all teeth and resolve. “Let’s show Jeff what-“

“That’s not Jeff.”

The music halts abruptly as Cody shoves the Golden Switch into Johnny’s hands, face dark and angry. Thunder crackles between them, and Max instinctively steps back. Something about Cody’s posture screams danger.

“Punish him.”

Thump. Thump thump.

Max’s eyes widen in realisation. A reprise. This was it then.

Squeak thump.

Johnny sends him a look, face determined. Final showdown. The people on the bleachers begin to whisper softly.

Thump. Thump thump.

“Burnhounds!”

“Shockodiles!”

Johnny jumps into the verse, lines reprised as Johnny lets out his anger, determined to bring Jeff down. Meanwhile, Max’s brain is racing, trying to piece together a plan as fast as he can. The likelihood of actually hitting Jeff is low, but there’s no way they could catch one of his throws, unless… No, that’s too dangerous. He grits his teeth. Well, that’ll have to be the back-up plan if this doesn’t work. He vaguely registers Jeff singing, but ignores him, grabbing Johnny quickly and dragging him back.

“Grrr, all I need is a single ball,

Just one, and I can finish this farce,

What the- there’s none at all?

Why, Guerra, ever a thorn in my-“

“HEY, JEFF!!” Max interrupts, breaking up his verse. “HEADS UP!!!”

He sprints up, bringing back his arm and aiming…

“PSYCH!!”

… for the ball golem. Max honestly has no idea why she’s still on the court.

It hits her perfectly, and the rest of the class cheer, music starting up again and launching into the chorus. The beat, with a lack of people on court, is picked up by the thumping of shoes and fists on the bleachers.

“Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles: Final showdown!”

“Not.” Jeff rises slowly, and Max tenses. He turns, and Max grimaces as he shows off the Golden Switch. Plan B, then. The background vocals are shocked into silence, and the music thumps silently as Jeff launches into his villain song again, this time with leitmotifs from Burnhounds vs. Shockodiles. Yikes, he really liked the sound of his own voice.

Max remains alert as Jeff walks along the court. The likelihood of him throwing the ball before his verse ends is low, but he watches anyway. Somewhere in the middle of it, Max perks up with incredulity, recognising the counterpoint. That was his and Johnny’s theme! Jeff hasn’t seemed to notice it, thankfully, and Max glares him down. It’s not over yet.

“Ha, you think I’d miss?

LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE THIS!”

Max grits his teeth.

“Johnny!!” He cries. Their theme breaks free from the harmony, playing high above everything, and overwhelming Jeff’s at the final note. He grins. “Look up!”

The music pauses.

Krak.

Foom.

Thwack.

SNAP!

The ball ricochets off his arm, arcing high over the court. He doesn’t need to look back to know Johnny caught it.

Max has a split-second to acknowledge darkly that the throw was in rhythm, before pain bursts on Max’s left arm, and he tears up, hissing as he tries not to cry. This doesn’t work.

“RRRRGGGHHHHH!!” He groans, curling up on the ground. Flippity flippin’ flip! His arm is on fire. He didn’t think it’d be this bad if Dmitri had somehow survived it, but it was.

“WELL WHATRYA WAITIN’ FOR?!” Johnny shouts. “LET’S GET ‘IM!!”

“YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH!” comes the cry, and the music starts again, playing a victory instrumental to accompany the cheers.

Thump. Thump Thump.

Well, almost an instrumental. Lisa steps up unnoticed behind Jeff, pinning him with a vice-like grip.

“Hey Shockodile, here’s some advice:

In this school, you should really learn to think twice.

Hey Shockodile, don’t make this a trend,

There are scary people here you don’t want to offend.”

#kindlespark #prompt: the musical #submission

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mageinabarrel · 8 years ago

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We muddle through like children, making our way through paths of war and peace.

In the first episode of Gundam Reconguista in G, Aida Surugan, a space pirate (a space pirate!) at the time, utters what may very well be the show’s most memorable line.

“The world… is not square!“

Regardless of whether this exclamation is literally true or not within G-Reco‘s universe, one senses that its meaning dwells somewhere beyond the world of fact in the land of metaphor and subtext. The world is unfair. The world is not balanced. It could be either, both, or neither. And, considering the the lack of context surrounding the line (in the scene, it’s unclear if Aida is responding to something her opponent at the time, protagonist Bellri Zenam, has said or just howling a war cry), it’s unlikely we’ll ever know what Aida was trying to communicate in that moment. Despite that—or perhaps because of it—the line remains solidly ingrained in my memory of the show, much like the triumphant chorus of the ED song.

I highlight this moment because it is, in many ways, representative of G-Reco as a whole—joyfully energetic, challenging to understand for lack of explanation, and unavoidably memorable for its weirdness. Like the show itself, it possesses an abstract sense of denseness ill-fit to the abruptness of its occurrence, leaving a feeling like you’ve grasped only a part of the meaning before the moment is torn away from you and replaced with the next instance of now-baffling randomness. Even the show’s ending, in theory a home for conclusiveness, flits so quickly between its final scenes that it feels as if it has been cut off before the true ending [1].

I say this all with a purely descriptive intent; to evaluate whether or not the strange nature of Gundam Reconguista in G makes it good or bad (although I certainly have my opinion) is a lot less interesting than trying to capture an articulable way of expressing the show’s fundamental character.

G-Reco has been accused of being a lot of things, and to some degree nearly all of these descriptors are true. The anime has characters, themes, robot fights, and great music. It’s got fantastic character designs by Kenichi Yoshida and a gorgeous and inventive setting. It even have a plot, even if said plot is often obscured by the way G-Reco hops and skips between all these different aspects of its whole self. G-Reco is, simply, full of all of the piece of itself. It’s a mecha-of-the-week battler, a war story, a reflection on the relationships between generations, a slice-of-life show set in space, an 80’s comedy, and many other things as well.

What’s most fascinating about G-Reco is that it never spends enough time with any of these aspects for them to assert themselves above the overall medley of elements. Themes that appear in one scene are brushed away in the next for the sake of a mecha battle, not returning again until episodes later. Character arcs flicker in and out of existence, grabbing the spotlight for a short time only to vanish minutes later as their replaced with status-quo camaraderie. Odd bits of humor slip into tense plot-relevant political faceoffs, weaving into a strange counterpoint rhythm that, whatever else it may be, is undeniably marching to its own beat.

One metaphor for understanding G-Reco that I find particularly apt is to think of each of these different shows that exist within it as a different language. G-Reco is a veritable polyglot, careening from one method on communication to another at what seems like random from the outside, yet contains an odd sort of internal logic beneath the external chaos. While one might argue that G-Reco‘s fluency some of these language is less refined than in others, it’s difficult to get away from the impression that G-Reco makes sense to itself—and that whether or not we can keep up with it is a concern it leaves up to us.

Thus, due to the variable nature of G-Reco‘s communication, not only is applying the simple good-bad binary an uninteresting question, but it’s also a rather fruitless one. G-Reco is so offbeat, so idiosyncratic, and so flexible that trying to describe it holistically winds up being a frustrating, if not outright impossible, task. Attempts to package an assessment of the show often end up relying on prior reference points, but most such exercises seem to me to wind up mischaracterizing the show.

As a case study, I’ve seen a few reviews of the show that call the main quartet of the show (Bell, Aida, Raraiya, and Noredo) a “harem.” And while, yes, the structure is there, to assess this construction as a harem strikes me as an absurd attempt to pigeonhole this part of G-Reco into a space it only superficially resembles. Noredo may harbor romantic interest toward Bell, but Raraiya spends half the show mentally ill and the other half as a competent pilot and friend. And while Bell’s relationship with Aida begins with his crush on her, it evolves into something entirely different at the show unfolds. This harem might look like a duck, but it certainly doesn’t sound, act, or feel like one.

These misses exist in more comprehensive attempts to define the show as well. While the series’ detractors are by far the most numerous and vocal camp, generally their responses seem to be predicated on unmet expectations. They came for a serious war drama (or maybe just for a comprehensible story); they got G-Reco. Are they wrong for desiring either of those things or for being disappointed by what they found instead? Maybe, maybe not. On the other hand, we find some proponents of G-Reco talking about it as if it were a misunderstood masterpiece, from Gen Urobuchi’s breathless praise of the show as a “story that renounces stories” (a position expanded on in this video) to Wave Motion Cannon’s convincing yet likely overgenerous argument that the show’s challenging execution harmonizes with its thematic concerns.

Although some strike me as nearer to the mark than others, none of these interpretations seem to fully account for the full range of G-Reco‘s identity. However, it’s within these descriptive struggles that I think the answer to defining G-Reco lies. The fact that it consistently defies attempts to wrap it up with a neat little bow and call it ‘X’ is what makes it what it is.

Gundam Reconguista in G is a show of novelties. Its defining feature is its ability to create an unbroken sequence of unique experiential pockets (like this one).

The name of the main Gundam in G-Reco is the G-Self, a name that invokes the idea of personal identity. However, this Gundam frame’s primary gimmick is the collection of backpacks that modify its abilities—a brilliant ploy for increased the number of Gunpla that can be sold for the suit and a perfect microcosm of the show itself. Like the G-Self, Reconguista in G is a chameleon, and the way it’s constantly code-switching means that the experience after each particular shift feels unique because of the resultant disconnect. It treats all of its component aspects—trivial details, dialogue, characters, thematic concerns, etc.—like novelties to be held before the audience’s eyes in a never-ending parade of glittering toys.

I could go on with examples that reinforce this point, both in terms of execution and recurrences of it within the show. For example, the heart of G-Reco‘s cast is the crew of the Megafauna, a collection of characters that recalls the Gekko State from Eureka 7 in more than just their character designs. Although the Megafauna (as well as the Klim Nick’s Salamandra) are ostensibly affiliated with the Amerian State, both ships—notably serving, although not captained by, young aristocrats—consistently pursue their own agendas, even if they sometimes are following orders. There’s an anti-establishment flavor to these units, something that’s reinforced by the mercenary way the Megafauna picks up and loses cast members (Lieutenant Kerbes, the Towasangan Ringo, Manny). In the wider plot, too, alliances and priorities are always shifting, often without clear explanation. Solidity and consistency are not part of G-Reco‘s vocabulary. All is novelty.

Is this a gimmick? Is an emphasis on novelty merely a stylistic distraction that belies true substance? In the case of G-Reco, the novelty is the substance of the show. These are the terms of engagement.

And now, with this definition in hand, we can finally turn our attention to the real evaluative question. The question is not whether Reconguista in G is good; rather, it is whether novelty is an aesthetic of value. Different priorities are of course valid—if you need a show to have a clear plot to consider it worth your time, G-Reco will ultimately disappoint—but my feeling is that such rigidity is inherently opposed to creation as flexible as G-Reco. Again, to gauge the show against certain established standards isn’t wrong per se, but it certainly feels like a mismatch weighted entirely against G-Reco.

To conclude—I think, given the right approach, Gundam Reconguista in G speaks well for itself as a show worth watching. Early on it’s entertaining simply because how nonsensical it is, and then as the story rights itself a bit you realize you’ve already been trapped by how charming the characters are. There are also these little arcs where the show builds up some legitimate narrative momentum within and across episodes, although it’s equally punctuated by weird stalemates when no one is really doing anything. But, no matter what else is happening, the perpetual rotation of show languages is on—and that approach, for its novelty if nothing else, make G-Reco something worthwhile to me.

This, of course, shouldn’t be assumed to mean that G-Reco has nothing else to offer besides being a novelty. Despite its inconsistent presence, the show’s commentary on heritage between generations (even as rehashes of ideas from previous shows) is compelling, the characters are a lot of fun to watch on their own terms, there are tons of great mecha battles throughout the rich world of the Regild Century, and pondering the show as a medium by which Yoshiyuki Tomino is engaging with the current realities of the anime industry and the world around him is fascinating. The defining feature of this show may be its novelty, but the quality of the distinct parts perhaps speaks for themselves, even if they don’t work together in a conventional way.

[1] Tomino said in an interview with the French TV channel Nolife that he didn’t think 26 episodes was enough for the story, but that he knew from the start how much time he would have.

We muddle through like children, making our way through paths of war and peace. We muddle through like children, making our way through paths of war and peace.

#G-Reco #Gundam Reconguista in G #Reflection #Yoshiyuki Tomino

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fitnesswomenshealth-blog · 6 years ago

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Thousands of Mental Health Professionals Agree Trump is Dangerous

New Post has been published on https://cialiscom.org/thousands-of-mental-health-professionals-agree-trump-is-dangerous.html

Thousands of Mental Health Professionals Agree Trump is Dangerous

Bandy X. Lee is an assistant medical professor at Yale University of Medication, Yale College.

Bob Woodward’s new e-book, Worry, describes a “nervous breakdown of Trump’s presidency.” Before this year, Michael Wolff’s Fire and Fury presented a similar portrayal.

Now, an op ed in The New York Moments by an nameless “senior White Residence official” describes how deeply the difficulties in this administration run and what effort is needed to guard the country. None of this is a surprise to all those of us who, 18 months back, put with each other our individual community support book, The Unsafe Case of Donald Trump: 27 Psychiatrists and Mental Well being Authorities Assess a President.

My emphasis as the volume’s editor was on Trump’s dangerousness for the reason that of my area of skills in violence prevention. Approaching violence as a community wellbeing challenge, I have consulted with governments and global organizations, in addition to 20 several years of partaking in the person evaluation and cure of violent offenders.

The guide proceeded from an ethics conference I held at Yale, my residence institution. At that meeting, my psychiatrist colleagues and I reviewed balancing two necessary responsibilities of our profession. Initially is the duty to communicate responsibly about public officials, primarily as outlined in “the Goldwater rule,” which needs that we chorus from diagnosing without the need of a private evaluation and without authorization. Second is our responsibility to secure community wellness and security, or our “duty to warn” in situations of threat, which generally supersedes other principles.

Our summary was overwhelmingly that our duty to modern society and its protection, as outlined in our moral tips, overrode any etiquette owed to a general public figure. That conclusion led to the assortment of essays in the e-book, which includes some of the most popular thinkers of the industry including Robert J. Lifton, Judith Herman, Philip Zimbardo and two dozen other people. That final decision was controversial among some customers of our area.

We currently know a good offer about Trump’s mental condition centered on the voluminous data he has specified by way of his tweets and his responses to authentic scenarios in actual time. Now, this week’s credible reports assistance the issues we articulated in the e book further than any doubt.

These reports are also reliable with the account I gained from two White Property team associates who referred to as me in October 2017 mainly because the president was behaving in a manner that “scared” them, and they believed he was “unraveling.” They had been calling since of the book I edited.

Once I verified that they did not perceive the problem as an imminent danger, I referred them to the unexpected emergency area, in get not to be sure by confidentiality procedures that would apply if I engaged with them as a treating doctor. That would have compromised my job of educating the general public.

The psychology powering the chaos

The creator of the New York Moments op ed will make very clear that the conflict in the White Property is not about Trump’s ideology.

The difficulty, the creator sees, is the absence of “any discernible first concepts that tutorial his selection producing … his impulsiveness [that] outcomes in 50 percent-baked, sick-educated and occasionally reckless choices that have to be walked again, and there currently being pretty much no telling no matter whether he may well improve his head from a single minute to the following.”

These are certainly psychological signs reflective of emotional compulsion, impulsivity, poor concentration, narcissism, and recklessness. They are equivalent to people that Woodward describes in quite a few illustrations, which he writes were fulfilled with the “stealthy machinations applied by those people in Trump’s inner sanctum to try to control his impulses and protect against disasters.”

Far more from Tonic:

They are also reliable with the class we foresaw early in Trump’s presidency, which concerned us ample to outline it in our book. We attempted to alert that his ailment was even worse than it appeared, would develop even worse in excess of time, and would sooner or later turn out to be uncontainable.

What we observed have been indications of psychological instability—signs that would eventually play out not only in the White Household, as these accounts report, but in domestic circumstances and in the geopolitical sphere.

There is a solid link in between speedy dangerousness—the probability of waging a war or launching nuclear weapons—and extended societal dangerousness, procedures that force separation of children from family members or the restructuring of international relations in a way that would destabilize the earth.

Having worse

My present-day worry is that we are already witnessing a further more unraveling of the president’s psychological state, specifically as the frequency of his lying will increase and the fervor of his rallies intensifies.

I am worried that his psychological challenges could induce him to get unpredictable and possibly extreme and dangerous actions to distract from his lawful troubles.

Psychological wellbeing professionals have standard processes for evaluating dangerousness. Much more than a personal interview, violence opportunity is most effective assessed by way of earlier heritage and a structured checklist of a person’s attributes.

These properties incorporate a heritage of cruelty to animals or other folks, risk taking, actions suggesting loss of command or impulsivity, narcissistic persona and existing psychological instability. Also of worry are noncompliance or unwillingness to undertake checks or treatment, entry to weapons, very poor relationship with important other or spouse, seeing oneself as a sufferer, lack of compassion or empathy, and absence of issue over penalties of unsafe functions.

The Woodward ebook and the New York Moments op ed validate numerous of these properties. The relaxation have been evident in Trump’s actions outside the house the White Home and prior to his tenure. That the president has met not just some but all these criteria should be motive for alarm.

Other means in which a president could be perilous are by cognitive indicators or lapses, considering that capabilities such as reasoning, memory, awareness, language, and discovering are significant to the obligations of a president. He has exhibited indicators of drop here, also.

In addition, when anyone shows a propensity for significant-scale violence, this sort of as by advocating violence against protesters or immigrant people, calling perpetrators of violence this sort of as white supremacists “very high-quality people” or demonstrating oneself susceptible to manipulation by hostile overseas powers, then these matters can boost a considerably extra common tradition of violence.

The president has presently proven an alarming escalation of irrational behavior for the duration of times of distress. Many others have noticed him to be “unstable,” “losing a step” and “unraveling.” He is possible to enter this sort of a state again.

Violent functions are not random gatherings. They are close merchandise of a very long method that observe recognizable designs. As mental health specialists, we make predictions in terms of unacceptable degrees of probability rather than on the basis of what is specified to happen. Trump’s impairment is a familiar sample to a violence specialist this sort of as myself, but specified his level of severity, one particular does not have to have to be a professional to know that he is unsafe.

What subsequent?

I consider Woodward’s ebook and the revelations in the New York Situations op ed have put wonderful strain on the president. We are now getting into a interval when the stresses of the presidency could accelerate for the reason that of the advancing unique counsel’s investigations.

The degree of Trump’s denial and resistance to the unfolding revelations, as expressed in a current Fox interview, are telling of his fragility. From my observations of the president over extended time through his community shows, immediate feelings by tweets, and accounts of his close associates, I consider that the problem is not whether he will search for interruptions, but how before long and to what diploma.

At the very least quite a few thousand psychological wellbeing pros who are members of the National Coalition of Anxious Psychological Wellness Industry experts share the view that the nuclear start codes should not be in the palms of another person who exhibits such ranges of mental instability. Just as suspicion of criminal offense really should lead to an investigation, the severity of impairment that we see need to guide to an analysis, if possible with the president’s consent.

Mental impairment ought to be evaluated independently from felony investigations, utilizing medical standards and standardized steps. A sitting down president may be immune to indictments, but he is subject matter to the regulation, which is demanding about general public security and the suitable to procedure when an individual poses a risk to the community for the reason that of mental instability. In the situation of danger, the affected person does not have the right to refuse, nor does the health practitioner have the correct not to acquire the man or woman as a patient.

This analysis may perhaps have been delayed, but it is nonetheless not as well late. And mental well being industry experts have intensive experience examining, restraining, and dealing with people today substantially like Trump—it is nearly schedule.

This is an up to date version of an op ed initially printed on September 7, 2018 it displays new details about the author’s make contact with with White Dwelling personnel.

Indicator up for Coping, Tonic’s weekly newsletter about stress, despair, and working with it all.

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deadcactuswalking · 6 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 23rd July 2018

Welp, nothing happened. Very stale week for the most part.

Top 10

Delightful – the worst single Drake’s released since “Pop Style”, “In My Feelings” featuring uncredited vocals from the City Girls, has gone up three spots from last week’s debut, making it our current chart-topper, surprisingly not replacing Drake himself, but we’ll get to that. At least City Girls, Magnolia Shawty’s family and Lil Wayne are getting money from this being #1 in both the UK and US. God knows they deserve it, well, at least Wayne.

“Shotgun” by George Ezra is somehow still at number-two. This song has a surprising amount of longevity.

Oh, yeah, “Solo” by Clean Bandit featuring Demi Lovato has also kept its place at number-three, which is cool.

Now, we have our first debut on the charts, which, similarly to last week, had its first-week charting position at number-four, the controversially-titled “God is a woman” (yes, it’s stylised in sentence case for no reason) by Ariana Grande, the second single from her upcoming album Sweetener.

Oh, yeah, Drake just won’t leave, as “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson and Paul Anka is at a standstill at number-five.

“Rise” by Jonas Blue featuring Jack & Jack is up a spot to number-six. Just lovely.

“Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B is also up that single position to number-seven.

“Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer has jumped up three spaces to entering the top 10, at number-eight, and yeah, this definitely deserves it. Good song.

Talking about songs that deserve to finally enter the top 10, “Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone has also taken a three-space increase right to number-nine.

Oh, and because of the album hype lessening and dying down, “If You’re Over Me” by Years & Years kind of collapses four spaces to number-ten. It seems to be on its way out, and I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

Climbers

There’s not really that many notables this week, but we do have Tyga’s “Taste” featuring Offset entering the top 20 as it moves up eight spaces to #16, “Only You” by Cheat Codes and Little Mix doing the same as it hits #19 after a nine-space increase. “Ring Ring” by Jax Jones featuring Mabel and Rich the Kid also had a lesser increase, only jumping up six spaces to #23.

Fallers

There’s only one fall of note here, but it’s pretty damn interesting how Tom Walker’s “Leave a Light On” just suddenly crashed down 15 spaces to #31... I know adverts only have a short impact on the charts, but I’m surprised by how this was just in free-fall this week, especially since I’ve actually heard it gain some traction on radio... except I checked the statistics and it’s done exactly the opposite. This song massively fell on UK airplay charts, to the point where it’s neck and neck with Meghan freaking Trainor. Yikes.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

Guys, we have just witnessed a chart history milestone: Last week’s #1, “Three Lions” by David Baddiel, Frank Skinner and the Lightning Seeds dropped from the top of the charts to #97, which means it experienced the biggest ever dropout from the top 40 (from #1) and the biggest decrease in UK Singles Chart history, having a 96-space fall. That’s kind of impressive in the weirdest way. I suppose we as a country were so crushed by Croatia winning against us that we decided to crush this song’s chances of any longevity, which I’m not necessarily complaining about, honestly.

Other drop outs from the top 40 include “These Days” by Rudimental featuring Jess Glynne, Dan Caplen and Macklemore, right after it returned for a brief stint at #40 last week, as well as “Moonlight” by XXXTENTACION out from #37. Last week’s incredibly convenient returning entry, “American Idiot” by punk-rockers Green Day is now out from #25, also.

Oh, and “This is Me” by Keala Settle and the Greatest Showman Ensemble is back again at #37, just go away, already!

Now for a new feature:

The Ed Sheeran Update

On this show, we often talk about Ed Sheeran and his inexplicable chart success, well, I figured I’d add something to shake up the formula: a short feature where we talk about how Ed Sheeran fared in the top 100. Well, “Shape of You” jumped up 13 spaces to #73 for no reason at all, and “Perfect” is up three spaces to #58.

Oh, yeah, and “Mr. Brightside” by the Killers? Still holding on. In fact, it just returned to #99 this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#34 – “Ocean” – Martin Garrix and Khalid

So, this song has been bubbling under for a while now, but on a slow week, it actually was able to have a pretty high debut. It’s no surprise to see Khalid on an EDM track, either, as he also sang on “Silence” by Marshmello last year, and has collaborated with Calvin Harris, albeit on a decidedly very non-EDM track. Well, how does this song compare to the countless collaborations Khalid has popped up with in the last few months?

Well, it doesn’t, at all, because, frankly, I don’t think this song even exists. It’s such a non-presence that after I listened to it – four times, may I add �� I could barely even remember the hook’s melody. It has an annoying an unnecessary synth sound that goes on throughout the whole thing, but it had a decently complex drum beat, and Khalid’s performance is smooth as always, even when he dips into his falsetto, but damn, that pre-chorus build-up is powerful. Honestly, this drop is so much of a mess that I’m surprised I have no memory of it. There’s some vocal samples all intertwined with a fast-paced orchestral string loop that only plays once throughout the whole drop, even though it could definitely add a lot of “oomph” to the track, then there’s an out-of-place acoustic guitar riff that is again, the only time you notice that instrument at all in this song. I don’t have any real complaints with this song – it’s mixed near-perfectly (even if I’d appreciate more accentuation on the bass), Khalid’s fantastic, and I’m not saying the all-over-the-place drop is bad, necessarily, it’s just kind of... intangible.

When a song is named after a place or an emotion, you’re going to have to feel that translating into the composition, even if it is completely without lyrics. I think that’s why I’m more appreciative of “SAD!” than a lot of people – you can tell that it successfully, even if you hate it – well, especially if you hate it, makes you sad or at least gets you to realise the effort into making it sound sad. “Plastic Beach” by Gorillaz is another good comparison in terms of places, as it is stiff and noisy like plastic but it still has wave sound effects to paint the background, joyous synths and whale-related lyrics (delivered in a rather plastic monotone), that create a beautiful contrast between the plastic and the beach. It feels like an artificial shore... but “Ocean” is only an ocean in name. It’s weaksauce EDM, that doesn’t feel as powerful as an ocean and definitely isn’t upsetting in any way to capture the “blue” colour of a wave. This is why I like CamelPhat so much. “Panic Room” is urgent but still kind of trapped in a confined space, “Cola” is constantly shaking it up, like a can of coke. They are EDM producers who make the titles fit and matter, but “Ocean”... nah, I can’t feel this. Next.

#30 – “Summertime Magic” – Childish Gambino

Donald Glover, also known as Childish Gambino, recently dropped a surprise-release Summer-themed two-track R&B EP called Summer Pack and the first track of two, obviously gained the most traction. Last time I talked about Glover on this show was when “This is America” debuted, and I wasn’t very impressed, but from what I heard, this new EP harkens back to his 2016 album “Awaken, My Love!”, which I loved, so hopefully I’ll dig this.

Well, it’s less disjointed than “This is America” but it’s definitely not as exciting, as it starts with some dreadfully boring steel pans with barely any accompaniment other than the reverb they’re soaked in, then Gambino comes in and starts singing over some admittedly nice synths, before the hook – which, for a lyrical wordsmith, is oddly and infuriatingly repetitive, especially since it’s full of nonsense words – which covers Gambino’s decent voice in just DJ Mustard-like bass and extra percussion, which definitely picks things up a bit, but not enough. It feels like Summer, alright, but it tries its hardest not to, with all the rain effects and the pretty dreary melodies that surround the vocals that could have made a pretty damn good pop song.

#4 – “God is a woman” – Ariana Grande

I know a lot of people are worried about Sweetener, but personally, I’ve liked all the singles released from it prior to this track, which stirred some controversy for its pretty clickbait title. Of course, the song doesn’t even dare to trip into any religious or political territory, no, it’s a sex song. Why is it called “God is a woman”? Well, because, sex with Ariana is apparently so good that the man will believe afterwards that God is a woman, because the sex was heavenly, yeah, you get the gist. It’s pretty obvious that Grande wouldn’t get right-wing nuts complaining, or a debut this high for a single like this, if it wasn’t for the clickbait-level title. Honey, just make a good, safe song and you will have success, it happened with “no tears left to cry” just a few weeks back. It’s a pretty dumb move to resort to tactics like this when Grande’s such a big star with such a loyal fanbase that people will stream this no matter what you call it.

Oh, yeah, and this song? Well I like the vocal melody here, it’s really nice in the hook, especially when Grande starts to sing more seductively over a surprisingly hard-hitting trap beat, with some heavy bass and a blocky, yet pretty slick drum pattern that makes Grande subconsciously start making Lil Pump-like “yuh” ad-libs in between the lines on the pre-chorus. There’s also a choir of a chorus harmonising with multi-tracked Grande voices, which sing pretty beautifully while Grande belts out some ad-libs. This whole song is so tight and constricted yet has a great final release as its climax, so unlike “Ocean”, everything feels worth it by the end.

Conclusion

“God is a woman” by Ariana Grande takes Best of the Week home, obviously, but nothing else here is good or bad, it’s all just kind of a boring middle-ground. See you next week!

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nofomoartworld · 7 years ago

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Hyperallergic: Case Studies in Musical Hooks: Father John Misty, Galantis, Ed Sheeran, Ashik Reza

Catchy hooks, theoretically the most wonderful thing in the universe, are meaningless without a context; they must be deployed discreetly and pointedly. Magnificently hummable constructions can turn monstrous when repeated too often, repeated in the wrong places, or used as bait to trick listeners into accepting loathsome performers. The albums reviewed below function as case studies in the deployment of hooks or the lack of them.

Father John Misty: Pure Comedy (Sub Pop)

By some improbable twist of fate, Father John Misty, the folk-rocker and Fleet Foxes drummer formerly known as Josh Tillman, has become Indieland’s most prominent social critic, directing pointed metabarbs at Internet culture and its new generation while hiding behind various satirical masks to assure the worried listener. Aren’t you eager to hear his big concept album about the political situation under Trump and all his thoughts on what’s wrong with the world today?

Lyrically, Pure Comedy is among the year’s knottiest albums, deftly weaving together alternately sincere and/or obscure and/or cynical speech acts intended to convey the queasiness of, say, scrolling through Twitter.

Hipsters, outrage culture, capitalism, class struggle, political polarization, virtual reality, Plato references, global warming, who the president is — look, all the issues! Tillman writes like a man tired of the hot-take cycle, tired of the subcultural petri dishes, tired of all the useless commentary piling up endlessly and bouncing around the echo chambers, a process the dense, imaginative overflow of his lyrics deftly simulates.

He notes that his own album contributes to this process, of course; what kind of self-aware edgelord would he be if he didn’t? If you consider “Eventually the dying man takes his final breath/but first checks his news feed to see what he’s about to miss” a profound lyric, you may be just the exegete Tillman needs.

Otherwise, rest assured that musically, he’s a much nicer guy than his sarcastic invective (ironic invective is beyond him) suggests, specializing in mildly pretty melodies and midtempo acoustic ballads. Dolefully strummed guitar and vibrantly plinked piano provide a fairly empty sonic minimum that he occasionally augments with drums, strings, horns, and such. Vocally, imagine James Taylor imitating Rufus Wainwright. Perhaps he considers the familiar nature of such perfunctory folk-rock a comfort in the world described above.

The first four songs are the liveliest, after which the tempos slow down and the record gets gradually sleepier. He’s a thoughtful presence; few singer-songwriters have so examined their own performative stance. His musical aesthetic remains unexamined. .

Galantis: The Aviary (Big Beat/Atlantic)

One doesn’t expect solid albums or even singles from EDM groups these days, but the notoriously anonymous Swedish duo Galantis’s ebullient second album, The Aviary, occupies corporate dancepop’s golden mean: that perfect prototypical space where shiny hooks come together with surging beats and gleeful melodies to soar in unison, free of the individual ego and subjectivity’s icky trappings. Delight in formal mastery for its own sake is the pop producer’s great gift to civilized society.

They scored bigger hits with their debut, Pharmacy (2015), which will probably go on to sell more than The Aviary; by now the Chainsmokers have monopolized the market for this particular brand of triumphalist maximalism. Pharmacy’s giant fist-pumping climaxes, sharing space with breathily sensual admissions of vulnerability, produced a nauseating confluence, as two distinct forms of sentimentality irritated and inflamed each other.

That album boasted several keepers, but the sequel is a clear improvement: sleek, elegant, a texturally delectable technological marvel. With aerodynamic efficiency a given, they’re aiming for maximum catchiness, with sharper and fuller songcraft sparkling brightly. Previously, their hired singers would murmur a platitude or two before disappearing into the sweeping synthesizer uplift, but here they belt verses, choruses, prechoruses, and fully resolved melodies that spin and dazzle. Whooshing, glistening, buzzing, gushing keyboard hooks glide alongside chipmunky pitch-corrected vocals, bliss point after bliss point.

The effect is to formalize and desentimentalize, to code the album as dance-functional rather than dance-cathartic. The chirpy children’s rhyme “Love on Me,” the zippy, exploding loops on “Tell Me You Love Me,” and the tropical bubblegum of “Hunter” initially sound expedient before sinking permanently into your brain and skittering joyfully round and round.

They’ve specified their formal approach and become more exemplary simultaneously: a classic pop paradox. Craft in itself means nothing unless it reaches total flawlessness, its surface gleaming, with each detail perfectly calculated, each song complete on its own while simultaneously epitomizing its own genre. Then it means everything.

Ed Sheeran: Divide (Asylum/Atlantic)

English folkie troubadour and Taylor Swift pal Ed Sheeran is so nice, so unassuming, it’s odd to consider his long string of platinum singles, as if such success were unbecoming of a man so gentle. In a long tradition of newly crowned King Sensitives whose airplay is incommensurate with their ambition, Sheeran’s album fails to reconcile his mild manners with his status as a commercial fixture.

What’s so horrifying about Sheeran is how he’s genuinely talented, charming even, within the strictures of an awful genre. Moreover, he applies his talents most attentively to everything awful about the genre, magnifying their awfulness, so that all his theoretically good qualities are actually net negatives. Glistening confessional folk-pop, whose automated beats and slickly compressed keyboards barely disrupt its tortured ache, will not improve if the dopey cornball singing the songs also happens to be a master hooksmith. Such music made louder and more obtrusive illuminates the familiar contradiction between sensitivity and its use as a manipulative substitute for macho; Sheeran’s soaring hooks flex their muscles with triumphant solemnity, as if asking you to applaud their grandiloquence.

There’s one exception: “Shape of You”, a veritable electrobanger, slinking mechanically over a pitched percussive bubblesynth. Otherwise, several stylistic experiments stretching from white soul to Irish folk fail to mitigate his reliance on pealing waves of strummed acoustic guitar as a token of moral authority. He makes his big statement with “Castle on the Hill,” a tale of childhood nostalgia whose chiming U2 chords and Sheeran’s wailing, inarticulate, Bono-style falsetto rouse adequately until the quiet bridge, after which he revs back up into the cathartic chorus, bellowing “I still remember these old country lanes/when we did not KNOW THE ANSWERS,” pumping a metaphorical fist to congratulate himself on the romance of his youthful confusion and innocence.

Simultaneously gratified and burdened by commercial success while trying to hang onto his soul, Sheeran’s dilemma illustrates a pop truism: authenticity moves are crasser than actual crassness. Feeling emotions deep in your heart is hardly an aesthetic advantage if the emotions are stupid.

Ashik Reza: Pashani Priya (Protune)

Despite consensus among fans, dissenters, and the industry itself, I’m hesitant to classify Bollywood soundtrack music as kitsch — usages that in themselves sound outrageous can rapidly morph into received conventions, and anyway, the style’s garish beats and swirly strings convey athletic persistence as often as they do romantic despair. This marvelous album, by a singer whose online presence is close to nonexistent, inhabits both modes with supreme confidence.

As with much Indian pop, what startles about Ashik Reza’s album is a demented collision between abstract form and physical recording: grandiosely melancholy ballads meet the harshest textures available. Crunchy metallic percussion, pungent electric strings, squealing keyboards, fancy riffs on guitar and sitar shredding past their breaking points, and Reza’s own keening voice — all abrasive in theory, instead conjure a garish warmth suitable for a particular brand of melodic pathos designed to linger on every drop of suffering. Compressed into a tight space, the various sharp sonic elements construct a surface that’s electric rather than electronic, hooks crackling, beats rattling, although sometimes he daubs on small gurgles of Auto-Tune as a token sweetener.

Lyrics are immaterial; the shiver in his voice on “Amar Ontorai” bespeaks woundedness and resignation, and each time the jittery beats give way to the constantly returning circular hook, sweat breaks out on his forehead; he has to keep up the pace. Theoretically the textural harshness acts as a deadpan mask for the singer’s feelings, but the melodies are sufficiently grand and Reza’s vocal delivery sufficiently demonstrative that the album’s emotional weight matches its weight as a whomping blast of sound. They just coexist.

Ardent throughout, the hooky onslaught peaks in the middle with the mechanical guitar solo on “Koto Nishthur” and the fierce guitar/string dialogue on “Obhimani Priya.” Don’t call it a dialectic — call it a kickass rockesque album.

The post Case Studies in Musical Hooks: Father John Misty, Galantis, Ed Sheeran, Ashik Reza appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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