#the lost chord being symbolic is cool and all but I like taking everything about it at face value esp the destruction of plastic beach and

[theofaron]

anyway my fave thing is when Murdoc says he kidnapped and gassed 2D and thought it was really weird his shadow looked like the boogieman ontop of admitting he did several things he swear he saw boogie do

[iamnotawomanimagod]

Manic Review - From “Least-Best” to Best

Halsey released her third studio album on 1/17/2020, and it is easily her best. I’ve wanted to talk about it, but first, I need to figure out how I feel about each track in relation to the others. So this is mostly for me, but I’d love to hear how other people are feeling too!

I love all of these songs, I feel so blessed with this album, which is why this goes from “least-best” to “best”, not “worst.” 

(I know that’s kind of splitting semantic hairs, but I refuse to disrespect this album, lmao.)

So, without further ado, here are my favorite songs on Manic, starting with the one I like the least:

16 - “Alanis’s Interlude”

This is THE bisexual anthem we’ve all been waiting for from Halsey. It’s cool, sexy, and features some stellar vocals from both Alanis and Halsey. It ranks so low for me only because I’m not a huge fan of the chorus, the machine drums, or the melody, despite loving the message. But the verses are fire, and so are the vocals.

15 - “Still Learning”

I think this track will be a slow-grower for me, the way “Devil in Me” was. Maybe it’s just because it comes on the heels of the deeply, deeply impactful “More” - but I found this didn’t strike the chord I thought it would. It’s a beautiful song, though, and very meaningful to Halsey’s personal journey. I think seeing it live might change my mind about it.

14 - “Finally // beautiful stranger” 

This might be the sweetest side of Halsey that we’ve ever seen, especially when it comes to romantic love. The fact that it was inspired by Yungblud makes my heart ache a bit. I really love the duality of the different versions of Ashley in the video. That being said, the genre/style of song isn’t my personal favorite. Her vocals are amazing, though, and some of the lyrics are really poetic. I know this will be an especially tender one live, in front of a Halsey crowd. I can just picture everyone swaying and singing along.

13 - “SUGA’s Interlude” 

This interlude is such a soft, sad moment on the album, and it fits really well before “More.” SUGA’s Interlude is all about the way fame has changed both artists, and about how they’ll know when it’s time to step away from the spotlight - and how that might change them. SUGA has excellent flow, and Halsey’s delicate, pining vocals on the chorus is a perfect complement to his introspective rapping. It’s a really sweet song, and part of why it works so well on the album is because it creates such a heartfelt prelude to “More”. The song all about leaving fame behind, followed by the song about loving her unborn child, and how she badly wants to be a mother...gives me chills, man, literal chills. I think I’d like it more if I spoke Korean, but honestly, Korean Halsey fans deserve somethin’ special, so I’m okay with it.

12 - “You should be sad”

I still don’t know if I quite “buy” Y’allsey, but I can’t deny that this is a really fun song. Singing along to the lyrics is so satisfying, and the music video provided us with some serious Looks. The guitar riff between the chorus and the verses makes me feel things, and so does the line: “I’m so glad I never ever had a baby with you,” especially after hearing “More”. I like this song a lot, but compared to the rest of the album, it’s not in my top ten. I think it’ll be a really, really fun one live, though.

11 - “Without Me”

This song and I share a birthday! It’s also where Manic really began, although we had no idea that was the case, at the time. This was the first time Halsey wrote from such a specific and personal place, knowing we would all immediately recognize who the song targeted and why. She’s used this song brilliantly since then, coming up with a dozen different interpretations and set pieces, performing it while chained to a post, while revealing the messages of her cheating ex, while dancing with a beautiful girl, and even more. (It helps a lot that she performed this song with Jade Chynoweth, one of my all-time favorite dancers, and responded to the backlash of that performance by doing it again, but even gayer, just a few weeks later.) We owe a lot to this song. And, as it turns out, it really fits in with the story of Manic, and with the tone, from both a sonic and thematic perspective. I’m still a little tired of it, though, which is why it ranks so low. But - credit where it’s due!

10 - “Dominic’s Interlude” 

This one surprised me, although I went in with zero expectations, not knowing who Dominic Fike was. I wish Halsey was actually in this song, but other than that, I think it’s a great interlude. Not to mention: “If you’re looking for signs then you should know, there’s power in the words that you’re thinking.” That’s an incredible line, hit me hard. 

9 - “Ashley”

I both love and hate what this song means, because it scares the crap out of me. The way she described it as “a cautious goodbye” in an interview... It’s absolutely a letter to her fans, about Halsey, about who Halsey is, and who Ashley is, and how that balancing act both breaks her and makes her thrive. She can’t keep doing this forever. She knows how much she means to us, and this song is all about how heavy and scary that burden is, but that she’s committed to it, for now. Ending with that line from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was perfect. We’re the ones who shouldn’t assign her our peace of mind, y’know? Her vocals are stunning, though, and I think it’s the strongest opener from any of her albums. This song reminds me of a much less depressing version of “Batter Up” by Brand New, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it influenced her a bit.

8 - “Graveyard”

This song really feels like the older sister of “Without Me”. I love the racing speed of the melody and the rhythm, the way everything is layered so manically and frantically over the verses. It’s actually really easy to get lost in the musicality of this one, even though the lyrics are incredible. I think the music video is my all-time favorite of Halsey’s, because I love all the symbolism in it, and it was really trippy to see her without tattoos. I’ll consider this one a bop for a long, long time.

7 - “clementine” 

We’ve had this song for a little while, and it’s been one of my favorites. I was pretty sure it was going to stay that way, even after the album came out, but Halsey surprised me. That being said, I still love the way this song manages to be both playful and petulant, spirited and sad. It has some really beautiful images, and the music video is so pretty. 

6 - “I HATE EVERYBODY” 

We love a song full of contradictions! This song takes the humor/self-deprecation that started in “Clementine” and “Forever... (is a long time)” and turns it anthemic. The transition from “Dominic’s Interlude” to this song is so perfect, it’s hard not to listen to them one after the other. Halsey once again proves her lyrical prowess and ability to write a relatable bop, which is really what we love her for in the end, right? I love the way the song starts out pretty simply, than swells up into something epic.

5 - “3am”

I love this genre, so much, and I think Halsey completely nails it. This song wouldn’t make anyone bat an eye if you played it in 2007. Most other Halsey songs can’t claim that, and since I’m a sucker for the aughties, this one lives high on my list. It reminds me of P!nk, Avril Lavigne, and Paramore. The lyrics are super relatable, and I love the chorus and the bridge. It’s not the best lyrically, but that bridge honestly makes up for what the rest of the song lacks. Can’t wait to scream that one live! I do wish John Mayer wasn’t rambling on the end, but I also love how that leads into “Without Me”. 

4 - “929″ 

This might sound strange, but I love how this song starts with just Ashley talking; she’s speaking through laughter, challenging her friend playfully. This song feels so real. I love the stream-of-consciousness style of lyrics and the way the melody plays into that. Her voice reminds me so much of early, early Halsey - songs like “Tilt You Back” and “For Ruby”. I can relate so much to some of the things she says, and I love the way it ends. It’s such an interesting contrast to the way her previous albums concluded, too - “Young God” and “Hopeless” are both such epic, sweeping tracks. Ending her most personal album yet with such a tender ode to self-acceptance, and self-discovery, is such a beautiful way to show how much she’s grown, as a person, a songwriter, and a singer. This song makes me nostalgic, proud, happy, just a little sad, and feel so at peace.

3 - “More”

I almost don’t really have words for this song. Knowing Halsey’s story, her very honest and public experiences with infertility and endometriosis, made this song hit me a lot harder than I ever expected. I still can’t quite get through it without crying. It’s an incredibly beautiful song. Painfully, painfully honest, about a topic that’s so rarely openly discussed in pop culture. I don’t even want kids, but the yearning she shows, the hope she still has, the way she says that she’s loved her future child more than anything, and has always loved them; the reference to having already bought baby clothes; the sound of the sonogram machine, and the way it sounds like she’s singing to her baby from outside the womb at the end; it guts me. And again, I don’t want kids. I never expected this kind of honesty or tenderness from her. It’s such a special song, truly. (For the record, I listened to it again to write this and am fully weeping once more.)

2 - “Forever... (is a long time)” 

What a surprise this song was! I think it perfectly captures a certain kind of self-destructive behavior that so many of us end up falling into when it comes to relationships. The way the song goes from happy and plucky to this burgeoning feeling of dread, of spiraling down into those dark thoughts that trip all of us up from time to time. It goes from a love song to a break-up song in a matter of seconds, and the transition is spine-tinglingly perfect. The storm building in the background, starting with thunder and dissipating into rain. The way her voice comes back in with the same melody, but minor instead of major. The way the song sort of disintegrates into chaos, and into the realization: “talk to your man...tell him he’s got bad news comin’.” (This is definitely about the Yungblud breakup, right? Nevermind, my heart can’t take that. Gonna pretend I didn’t just realize that.)

1 - “killing boys” 

Jennifer’s Body is one of my absolute favorite movies, unironically. I love that Halsey loves it too, enough to include lines from it in the most badass boss bitch song she’s written since “Nightmare”. Her vocals are incredible (those high notes!) - the lyrics are the perfect blend of regretful and rageful - the beat, melodies, and overall composition just fills me up with this impossibly strong sense of “fuck yeah, fuck you.” I don’t have the words to describe how this song makes me feel. I had high hopes, based on the title, and it did not disappoint. This song has some of the cleverest lines on the entire record, and it makes me feel a way that no other song does. That’s what seals it at #1, for me (for now.)

Feel free to reply with yours, or tag me in your own review!! I’m really excited to see some of the more detailed opinions people have, now that the initial “IT’S HERE” hype has started to subside.

stream MANIC by HALSEY today

[meibemeibelline]

highlights from that 32k word doc i wrote when i marathoned gazette’s songs (2002-2007)

PART 2 | PART 3

Some quick notes:

This is a combo of thoughts on music, lyrics and sometimes just funny things I found while I was hurriedly typing at 11pm listening to these songs. Not every song will be featured in these, sorry

At times I directly quote translations and when I do I’ll specify who I’m quoting, but just so you know first they are all either Defective Tragedy, Heresiarchy or Trauma Radio

Also, I’m planning on writing some longer essay-type things with these notes so there might be some things I skip over (such as a recurring theme in their songs) bc I want to use them elsewhere

CONTENT WARNING FOR LYRIC DISCUSSIONS: suicide (Ganges ni Akai Bara). i will bold the title so you can skip it if you want. it’s one paragraph long

HHHH this is already 2k words but anyway hope u enjoy my ramblings

 “I’d have to take a break from feminism to appreciate [Akai One Piece]”

“His delivery is still highly emotional and [Okuribi] overall is really emotional. Like the fact you can still hear and FEEL the sheer bittersweet feelings (mostly sadness) of someone you love passing away is like...really telling of 2002 gazette’s potential”

(Doro Darake no Seishun) “Bitch Aoi and Uruha are serving LOOKS like the red tartan blazer with the black shorts???? And Uruha with the red tank top and the pleather skirt with the garters THE OTHER GIRLS WISH THEY WERE HIM”

(Haru ni Chirikeri, Mi wa Kareru de Gozaimasu) “it’s about a flower that’s in love with a one-winged butterfly, and i imagine the point is that even though they sing songs for each other, they’re just so different that they don’t understand each other and they can’t be together. and they’re just...fated to end, and maybe try again next spring. and you can see that in human relationships too.”

“Akuyuukai i think is such a significant turning point musically like i just FELT a significant shift where they were really painting with their music and having it be more closely connected with the lyrics”

“[Linda Candydive Pinky Heaven] is a happy and fun song!! it’s doro darake no seishun’s cuter and cooler older sister. this also gave me a lot of serotonin and i’m glad this is a classic. it’s also this band’s first fan song (or closest to a fan song) and i think it’s quite meaningful because they were picking up as a band and were starting to really connect with people which is always so so great. and i think it’s cool that many songs before this were fun songs to jam out to but linda is specially DEDICATED to that. it’s so carefree and i think like...this is the exact thing many musicians love about performing and what fans love about concerts. it’s the escapism and just the SPACE to be yourself and have fun. it’s so freeing.”

(Black Spangle Gang) “I can’t believe GazettE were doing 2005 Miyavi before Miyavi did 2005 Miyavi”

(The Murder’s TV) “I think it’s cool how playful they make it sound -> like a creepy show that kids might see and the last chorus is pretty good. it’s a bop AND THE BASS AND GUITAR SOLOS SLAP. The lyrics are really interesting too and I LOVE the way Ruki embodies them with his voice”

“BITCHHH MAD MARBLE HELL VISION SLAPS. THIS IS WHAT I CALL NOISE MUSIC!!!!!!!”

“The composition on Kawareta Haru, Kawaneru Haru is actually SO good (and the costumes are fucking ICONIC). And Ruki is STILL getting better at singing. The chorus is melodic and the effects on the guitar just go so well like I think the others (probably since Akuyuukai actually) have been really getting to play with all sorts of effects on their instruments to make this new variety of sounds which is super rad. AOI SOLO SUPERIORITY BTW.”

“Indie gazette really love their key changes in the bittersweet songs in the last choruses.”

“Comparing the lyrics of [Sumire] to many of the last ‘goodbye’ songs, there’s a lot more imagery and scene-painting as opposed to like, just direct thoughts and feelings. And that’s really Ruki developing as a writer, I think, as his lyrics are becoming more subtle and open to different interpretations which is super cool! Like this is really him finding his voice and I know he’s going to be doing more of this over the years.”

“ANATA NO TAME NO KONO INOCHI SLAPS BUT THE LYRICS ARE FUCKED. LIKE, I KNEW THIS FROM THE BEGINNING BUT I REALLY WISH I WAS JARED, 19.”

“I LOVE MISEINEN SO FUCKING MUCHHHHH. I can only begin to imagine just HOW significant this song is for Ruki. This is him acknowledging his weaknesses and his flaws, looking around him and seeing the people he has, he writes about what he’s afraid of, he writes about how he’s going to change and move forward, what is MOST VALUABLE to him. This is A LOT. This is A LOT for anyone. It is a song about GROWTH – how he wants to grow yet is terrified of change, but even so is going to do it with the help of his support system. This is EVERYTHING. It’s raw and brave and so very beautiful. It has Wakaremichi and BEST FRIENDS energy. These three songs are best friends. And also like, for the last couple of releases Ruki’s been doing lots of wordplay and metaphors and using euphemisms, but this set of lyrics is just completely honest and STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART. Like, there ARE metaphors and symbols but he’s talking COMPLETELY about himself and his FEELINGS. I get emo whenever I listen to this song.”

(Carry?) “Apparently it’s about Frankenstein’s monster, so I guess this is another Concept Song. So this explains the flat vocals – the monster is undead but also…very sad and confused about what it is and its place in the world. ISN’T THAT ALL OF US ON SOME LEVEL…HAHA…”

“Zakurogata no Yuutsu is that 2010 fb meme where someone sees their partner right before going into a heart surgery only to wake up to find they’re gone and the doctor is like ‘omg who do you think gave you the heart😔’”

“WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID I SLEEP ON HANAKOTOBA. THIS IS AOI SONG SUPERIORITY. THE GUITAR SOLO IS ALSO GORGEOUS. Also love what he did with the melody getting higher in the end when the narrator questions the existence of the love they lost. AND THEY DIDN’T RESOLVE THE FUCKING CHORD PROGRESSION OHHH MY GODDDD BECAUSE “I’LL WITHER AWAY, NEVER KNOWING THE ANSWER” //THROWS. THESE GENIUSES. THIS IS THE BEST SONG ON THE ALBUM SO FAR AND THAT’S👏ON👏AOI👏SUPERIORITY👏Also I know that, literally, Hanakotoba is a flower on the side of the road but LISTEN. This is a soul that just wants love...This is the anthem for us lonely invisible bitches <3 This song has the MOST yearning. Thank u Aoi for my life. Like he is TRULY the composer with the most emotionality.”

(Tokyo Shinjuu) “I LOVEEEE THE BASS. This has a very old, classic Japanese style and it’s just…so good. You can really hear it in the melody. Also there’s just something SO feminine about it and I KNOW it’s that classic Japanese sound and like…god I love this gender bending with music. I adore the guitars too I think there’s such a good balance between them.”

(Shichigatsu no Youka) “I love how the lyrics are between sections too – the most emotional parts are in the big, emotional chorus, and the verses are more mellow when the narrator is sort of…more detached and Not Crying… The guitar melodies are really pretty and the solo is just GORGEOUS. It’s such a bittersweet song as well (god GazettE just do bittersweet EXTREMELY WELL) like bruh…already being sad over a breakup and OH DOUBLE WHAMMY THEY’VE MOVED ON like. Ruki sweetie I’m so sorry.”

[a rant about how I know Saraba is well-meaning and is about the peace and unity of a nation and is EXPLICITLY anti-war which I can definitely appreciate but my Chinese ass was just NOT having the whole painting the Japanese army as heroes deal]

(Reila) “Ruki’s vocals are SO GOOD here. ALSO YELLING AT THE BASS AND KICK DRUM BEFORE THE SECOND VERSE WITH THE PIANO. THE WAY THE KICK DRUM PANS THRU THE EARS. MOTHERFUCKER. AND THEN TO COME IN WITH THE GUITAR SOLO HOW DARE!!!!! YOU PLAY WITH MY EMOTIONS LIKE THIS!!!!!”

“COCKROACH SLAPS. Love that he reframes being compared to a cockroach as like, resilient (I’ll never break through -> I want to believe I’ll break through), and he’s embracing his crudeness and taking a huge dose of PHUCEMOL.” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Sugar Pain) “God Aoi’s intro though………..I HATE THE BREATHING SO MUCH. No I’m actually really angry right now why is it actually good. YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE GOOD.” (I then had to stop after the first chorus for obvious reasons)

“Idk why the first thing I thought of when Bite to All started was ‘yeehaw’…[Also] I hate how I know exactly who is screaming at the end and when.”

“BTS 🤝 GazettE Gunshots in songs”

[My personal interpretation of Nausea & Shudder is not that it’s about the pressure of being true to oneself in the face of success, but rather that success itself is not what Ruki expected it to be and he’s figuring out how to navigate that and move forward. It is also just a really good set of lyrics.]

“There’s just a hopelessness that’s so profound in [Bath Room]. Like if depression was a song IT WOULD SOUND A LOT LIKE THIS… Up until this point this is the Darkest song AND WE’RE ONLY GONNA GET DARKER FROM HERE *sweats in DIM*”

“I love these unsaid words Ruki leaves in the booklets. Adds layers and messages for the listener (usually of hope)”

(Silly God Disco) “After reading the lyrics I love this song soo much more. Like it’s actually really nice to think about dancing and living life because you have rock music and it makes you happy. Also the FUNK. The flavour. Not only that, but the way Ruki SWEARS he will live happily, without fear, and always moving past pain and towards freedom and glory. And he INVITES the listener with him. This is just SO nice.”

“I think it’s interesting that like…for an album that is sort of Known to be depressing as hell, there are quite a lot of songs about resilience and just…living and moving forward. Depending on what the rest of the albums are about, NIL might actually be, weirdly, the one with the most hope in it.”

(Worthless War) ““Do you shoot first so you won’t get hurt? / Do you call that sort of thing ‘justice’” damn Worthless War spilled. This sounds like a whole lot of anxiety surrounding war, and a very strong criticism against the government for caring more about power than people. Even though violence is despair, he also says that this age of political tension and FEAR is also despair. And he is correct. Ruki: ALSO THE EARTH IS DYING???” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Rich Excrement) ““Lyric killer is erectile dysfunction” + “Biters should check it out too” -> you’re a limp dick who rips off other people’s work I AM SCREAMINGGGGGG.”” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Crucify Sorrow) “The main metaphor here is someone who is an insect with a broken shell – an empty person. With depression, probably…And I cannot help but think about Utsusemi, in which he uses this EXACT metaphor to describe himself and his own depression, his loneliness and his desire to disappear. Was this a coincidence??🤔”

(GANGES NI AKAI BARA) “I really like this song – music and lyrics both. Like even though it’s sad that the girl was in a lot of pain, kills herself and is condemned by her church, the narrator bringing her to Ganges and doing a sacred ritual for her so that she can find salvation is actually really really kind and meaningful??? Not only because it’s an act of kindness but also because the pain she was experiencing was emotional/mental (with the constant tsu-tsu-tsura-tsura-tsurai), salvation could relieve her soul from exactly that.” (Apparently Ruki said the narrator is Buddhist but in the context of the song Hindu makes more sense, so I’m just going with that)

(Calm Envy) ““If you could love even these words I’ve thrown your way / I could keep trusting only you as you stand in front of me / It hurts every time you bring up the past you’ve suddenly shown me / I want to love even that empty space where I don’t exist / I’ll wipe away my tears so you wouldn’t notice them / So don’t smile in front of me anymore than this” – SHUT UP THIS SHIT IS REALLY UNCONDITIONAL BUT THEY’RE TIRED OF BEING HURT. GOODBYE. GOODBYEEEEE.” (Cr: Heresiarchy)

(Circle of Swindler) “Ruki writing "how much do you buy us for? let's negotiate [the] value of pain" in circle of swindler to demand respect and acknowledgement of his worth from the higher ups of the music industry because it's the music born from his pain that's making their money is Quite sexy” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

“[Stacked Rubbish] is about the baggage we have, the baggage we give each other, the Errors we make precisely because we are People who have souls. I think the point (of this album being like an anthology) is that everyone could find something in this album that speaks to them.”

[martianarctic]

Devin’s Playlist -2010s Part 1

This is an unfinished retrospective look at what I listened to during the 2010s. This decade was exceptional for me, as it was the first decade where, for almost all of it, I was not a musician myself. 

Being a musician forces you to listen to music like a musician, and being free of that, and able to listen as a listener alone, really made this a spectacular decade for me. I found dozens of incredible albums that were released during the decade, many of which received no significant recognition.

This was a very large project, and I did not finish it. I made it through Retrowave, Shoegaze, and Post punk. If anybody cares, I will finish the entire project, which will add Dreampop (the largest category), Vaporwave, and Dark Ambient.

Retrowave: Retrowave is electronic music that, at first listen, sounds like it may be from the 80s or 90s, mostly because the synths it uses to generate the music are either retro-inspired or literally retro equipment in some of the more extreme cases. It generally features original compositions, often, but not always, is instrumental. Rough vocals would impede the tightness and angularity of the music, so when vocals are used they are often pop produced and highly melodic. This genre gained significant exposure from Nicolas Winding Refn’s 2011 masterpiece, “Drive”.

Galactic Melt (2011) Com Truise

Electronic artist Com Truise rose to prominence off of this fantastic record, which rallies around the undeniable electro anthem of 2012, “Brokendate”. Starting with some found audio (chopped and screwed found audio becomes a big deal later on in Vaporwave) and then dropping in an absolutely thick beat we’re met with a song that eventually, as layers are dropped on, ends up being meditative, romantic, and melancholy. Emotions to that point, not well associated with dance music, but definitely would come to color the entire decade.

Era Extraña (2011) Neon Indian

Electronic solo bedroom pop was pretty cool at the end of the 00s being pushed hard by guys like Twin Shadow. I am not sure how I got ahold of Neon Indian but this album was, in a lot of ways, the true start of my musical decade. I had not been so excited and enthusiastic about a record since I had retired from making music. It really gives you a new perspective to not feel like you’re in competition with everything and trying to learn from everything- just as a listener, I was enthralled with this entire record.

Visitors (2012) Lazerhawk

I did not get into dark retrowave until after 2013 and thus discovered Lazerhawk and this record after the fact. Visitors is, in my opinion, the best dark retrowave album ever made, more consistent and listenable than competitors such as mega drive or carpenter brut. Also. This album absolutely sticks the landing with the street-strutting powerhouse “Arrival”.

I am the Night (2012) Perturbator

Made famous by soundtracking the indie game hit Hotline Miami (one of the best games of the decade), Perturbator carved a niche for himself with fast, brutal, high energy dark electronic music and absolutely bonkers live shows. Perturbator has a large catalog of content- I am the Night is definitely the starter kit. Starting off with a thick minor chord, a church bell, and a sample of Peter Finch’s speech from “Network” you immediately know what’s in store- dark, dystopian and undeniably French electronic dance music, complete with breathtaking beat breaks, big bass synths, and complex compositions.

Innerworld (2014) Electric Youth

I had mentioned that Drive was a major popularizer of retrowave- and one song in particular, a collaboration between another retrowave artist named College, who created the low fi, catchy bassline for the song “A Real Hero”, and the vocals and lyrics, created by an artist called Electric Youth. Their record, 2014’s “Innerworld”, is one of the best retrowave efforts, with the second track, “Runaway”, even better than the song that made them famous. The pop chorus “Maybe we could just run away for good/cuz we’re both mis understood” soaring over thick, atmospheric synth pads will have you slapping the roof of your car, as you race through the freeways of LA at 3AM.

Atlas (2016) FM-84

Speaking of roof-slapping bangers, “Running in the Night” is probably retrowave’s most popular anthem, boasting one of my absolute favorite vocal performances of the decade. A group claiming rock and roll city San Francisco as their home base (despite being both British), FM-84’s Atlas is absolutely packed with a mixture of the atmospheric instrumental Miami Vice type music suggested by the red and purple setting sun cover as well as vocal driven pop songs such as the single mentioned above.

Hardwired (2018) Mitch Murder

Mitch Murder is a retrowave institution, having made the soundtrack to the viral youtube movie Kung Fury, and also, I suspect, the original music used by twitch personality Dr. Disrespect. However, he almost entirely releases 3-5 song Eps, making it tough to pick out a standout. However that all changed in 2018 with the release of Hardwired, the most accomplished mitch murder release to date. Starting off with the Jan Hammer style “Altered State”, it stays on brand throughout but tells a very unified instrumental story of cyberpunk dystopian adventure. Vangelis-style synths bring in the closer track, “Revision Control”, one of Mitch Murder’s greatest tracks. Evolving through different moods, different scenes, we can imagine the “human” protagonist confronting his cyborg nemesis he has been tasked to execute.

Retrowave Album of the Decade:

Dark All Day (2018) Gunship

As the decade wore on, retro wave slowed down for me. I thought it might be over but- without warning, Gunship, an artist I had listened to but not been completely impressed by, released what is probably the most accomplished album in the genre. Spanning various tempos and musical themes, utilizing several guest vocalists, the scope of “Dark All Day” keeps you listening to the record again and again. This record represents an evolution in a format that was at risk of being just a fad. “Come on lost boys, lets stay alive” over a ripping saxophone lead suggests mere 80s fetishism, but there is more substance than just that. The following track, “When you Grow Up, Your Heart Dies”, takes an upbeat electro jam, and really goes for emotional impact with a series of samples of characters from pop culture saying inspirational things, my favorite being “Everything worth doing is hard” which I think is just Teddy Roosevelt. My favorite track of the record, the slow ballad “Artemis & Parzival”, begins with swooning, Vangelis-style pads and then into guest vocalist Stella Le Page’s gorgeous vocals. This track definitely belongs on anybody’s make out playlist. “Were all gonna die that’s just how it is, there’s no escaping the future, nobody gets what they want in this world, even for you and me” is one of the greatest lyrics of the decade.

 Nugaze/Shoegaze-Adjacent: Shoegaze is a genre of music that features highly layered guitar effects (often run through 10 or more effects, creating a signature “vacuum cleaner” sound with a ton of distortion and white noise) and breathy vocals. Relying heavily on the depth of character of the sound, shoegaze guitar tone and production is a major creative point and almost all of these records are self-produced. Vocal themes are usually depression-inspired and lovelorn meditations, the music sounds, to most, dull and dreary, but to some, it speaks deeply to their feelings about the past and future. Shoegaze is often mixed with other guitar genres on this list, from Post Hardcore(Nothing, Title Fight), Black Metal(Deafheaven), and Thrash Metal (Astronoid).

Road Eyes (2010) Amusement Parks on Fire

Around 2010, I was promoted at my job to a new role that would require a bunch of travel. I was not a big fan of riding on airplanes. Also around that time, my brother had moved into my apartment, then out of it, and I only had a few months left on the lease. My favorite shoegaze band of the 2000s, Amusement Parks on Fire, played a gig at 330 Ritch, a club in san Francisco. I had a fantastic time at the show, and particularly loved their new material, which made it onto a record they called Road Eyes. 2 months later I moved out of my apartment in San Francisco and never would go back to living as a single dude.

Anyways, the travelling. The opening and title track to the record came to symbolize change for me. And it also was the song I would listen to every time my plane would take off. It helped me deal with the fear that something might happen- no matter how insignificant the chance – and if it did, while that song was on, it would be okay. Indeed, this was, and I will warn you I am not qualified to treat mental illness, but this actually really made flying much easier for me and it is a ritual I continue to do to this day, whenever possible.

Pipe Dreams(2013), Sway(2014), Feels like You (2019) Whirr

San Francisco nugaze/dronegaze band Whirr, large and complex, problematic, aggressive, are behind some of my favorite music of the decade. Their three album career reflects to me upon the primary feelings of youth: euphoria, anger, and sadness.

Pipe Dreams is a blissful set of jams, meditative, energetic uptempo and with almost totally co-ed vocals. Noisy production casts a hydrocarbon haze over the songs, raw vocal melodies reach out of the fuzz and suck you in. “Junebouvier” and “Toss” capture the euphoric and  youthful energy of a summer in San Francisco: starting off with breakups May thru July, and hot hookups until September or October when people settle into relationships. Two hungry eyes emerging from straight-bangs to make eye contact with you, and hold it- the exhilaration of touching somebody new.

Sway, the band’s masterwork, starts off with a heavily muff-distorted major 7th chord suspending us until the massive drums, now a hallmark of the band’s sound, kick off the beat into the opening rocker Press. The band switches up rhythms between drums, guitars, and bass to bring rock and roll-type turnarounds and breaks that really keep you on your toes and engaged. The lead guitar is classic legato shoegaze, using delay to achieve a long, sustained scream. Compositions are key on this record- not following just simple A/B patterns there’s some thought to the structure of the songs and record. “Dry”, in particular, demonstrates some of these ideas. A/B sections, underscored with “Drown me everytime… Dry”, give way to breaks, ethereal echo guitar solos, giving a hint of the powerful ending. A 4 chord progression accented by breathtaking drum fills finaly flourishes into a screaming cymbal-laden guitar finish.

Feels like You, the bands purported final album, starts off with some quiet echo piano. The melancholy major 7 chords the band has leaned on throughout their music are laid bare as we press play on the record. Add guitar. At a little after 90 seconds the band jumps in after with a thick blanket of lonesome self-reflection and chemical depression. The bands penchant for composition remains to the end, with changes keeping you engaged as the noise soothes your heart. “Younger than You” is one of the band’s greatest tracks, starting with an almost Smashing Pumpkins/Silversun Pickups esque clean unison guitar/bass into distorted and layered noise, ending with a drum-guided, rock and roll style outro.

 Guilty of Everything (2014) Nothing

One of the things I mention in my preface to this is, for me, the 2010s were the first decade of my life that ended with me not being a musician. And it opened some doors for me, creatively, to be able to hear music and think about it purely as a listener and a person. Something others have frequently described to me, that I had never really done, was just spend an entire weekend listening to an album.

I saw Nothing on KEXP 5 years ago when Guilty of Everything was out and they were on tour. I’ve seen them twice in person since them and bought every one of their records. The weekend that I got Guilty, I was attending a close friend’s sisters wedding, and pretty much was in a hotel room drunk in overcast-as-fuck santa cruz all weekend. And you know what was being played through headphones at practically all times.

Nothing is mostly the musical project of a guy named Dominic Palermo, a punk from the Philly scene that had spent more than a year in prison for a stabbing. He isn’t much of a vocalist or guitarist, but he is a fantastic artist, writer, photographer, and visionary, and the creative force behind what is now a rotating cast of other musicians.

Guilty of Everything is definitely their best record, opening with the massive meditation Hymn to the Pillory, into the definitive single Bent Nail, a perfect marriage of hardcore punk and shoegaze elements, falling apart into the 90mph crash, into a wall, final outro chorus “If you feel like/letting go…” repeated over and over over pure drone guitars, seamlessly flowing into the romantic slow jam “Endlessly” The closing title track is one of the best closers of the decade, perfectly sticking the landing on this brilliant lyric: “My hands are up, I’m on my knees I don’t have a gun, you can search me please. I’ve given up, but you shoot me anyway, I’m guilty of everything. I’m guilty of everything”.

Hyperview (2015) Title Fight

Nothing wasn’t the only Pennsylvanian post-hardcore band to bend their sound a bit shoegaze. Title Fight also sneaks onto this list with their outstanding record Hyperview from 2015. Appealing compositions and melodies combine with harmonized vocals, even some 16 beats on the hats- things we expect from post hardcore, but slowed down and smeared out a bit into the shoegaze aesthetic. My favorite track from the record, “Hypernight”, combines some screamo hype man chorus, math rock inspired guitar and bass lines, and is just all in all one of the most unique tracks to come out of the decade. “I don’t want to see things differently, its what I am taught myself to believe”.

Grandfeathered (2016) Pinkshinyultrablast

I admit that I bounced off of Russian electro-shoegazers Pinkshinyultrablast the first time I listened to them a few years ago. There was just too much going on and I didn’t really have the inclination to jump in and grab on. Operatic female vocals, noisy djenty guitar, shimmery, clean guitar, all swirl together in what is undoubtably a great record for having a tinder date IF, and I say IF, you’re willing to run a musicological acid test on them.

Whether it was listening to a bunch more music, particularly ambient music, or just changing taste now I can’t get enough of this band. They do slam from idea to idea in a song, but it’s a controlled speed- it’s not pleasant to a lot of people, but once you get yourself situated, you’ll wonder how you ever missed this band to begin with, if you’re not one of the people reading this and thinking, naw dude, I got this shit RIGHT AWAY.

The compositions on the record are, in fact, carefully considered and composed, combining noise rock with clean ambience deftly and changing up styles repeatedly throughout each song and the record. Everybody knows we can no longer control dynamics via volume in today’s world of headphone/device listening,  ultramaximizing mastering, laptop speakers, etc. So Pinkshinyultrablast controls it with style. This record is definitely the more guitar-driven of the albums from this decade, with their release 2 years later being more electronic and vocal focused.

Slowdive (2017) Slowdive/My Bloody Valentine (2013) mbv

There are two bands that are credited with creating and or popularizing the Shoegaze movement during the late 80s and early 90s. Those bands are My Bloody Valentine, and Slowdive. Both of whom released albums during the 2010s. And frankly, both records are damn good for two bands that have been basically on hiatus for 20 years. Neither has really stood the test of time for me, although I listened to both exhaustively upon release. 

The opening tracks of both records are absolutely mesmerizing, this slow, sexy intro is clearly the part of them that became stronger with age. The manic rock energy of their more upbeat tracks however is absent or at least forced, and I think is what keeps these from being really what I’d call strong records. Nevertheless, both albums belong on any shoegazer’s playlists both for the quality of the music as well as the nod to the progenators of the genre we love so much.

Time n Place (2018) Kero Kero Bonito

KKB was already one of the biggest indie rock groups in the world when they released this their second full-length album. Making a big move sound-wise from super squeaky clean hip hop style production to sloppy shoegaze guitars and drums, they alienated a lot of fans with Time n Place, but I don’t see how. For me, coming in for Time n Place and then going back in the catalogue to Bonito Generation, I see it as a very natural progression. As the artists become more confident and mature, it’s natural they should explore some other emotions and moods.

That said I am not the usual KKB fan. Actually at their show in San Francisco in 2018 I was probably in the top 95 percentile of being an old fart. Around me, mostly twentysomethings on the first half decade, casually doing key bumps right on the show floor, something scared old gen Xers like me, still remembering their friend’s divorced dads in cigarette boats they sold for coke in the 80s, are still too paranoid to do. The crowd definitely starting pogo jumping at the chorus to “Only Acting” a grungy, poppy metaphor between acting on stage, and being young and in love.

Right after that, “Flyaway“ is the upbeat shoegazey manic anthem that really got me sucked into the band to begin with. Combining fuzzy guitars that are more reminiscent of Japanese rock bands of the 00s than shoegaze with a crystalline clear melodic vocal line from Sarah, this is the track where I grab a handful of dirt from my dying hill, and say if you don’t like this song, you don’t like the band, the record, or my musical taste.

Miserable Miracles (2018) Pinkshinyultrablast

Reinventing themselves record by record, Pinkshinyultrablast keeps on the cutting edge and doesn’t make a habit of anything. Miserable Miracles is more electronics driven, lead and pad synthesizers bringing in the music with their trademark soaring, operatic vocals. Guitars are present as well, but heavily stretched with cathedral reverb and long delay. A smoother sound than Grandfeathered, but well-poised to issue a majestic, meditative prayer such as “Find your Saint”, my favorite track. Like walking into a Germanic church on Sunday, the vocals rise to the ceiling forcing you to look up at the light breaking in through stained glass synthesizers. At about 100 seconds, all of the pieces drop in together to lift you into wherever it is you are going. “I used to talk- about it” brings the heavenly outro to bear, one of the most powerful musical moments of the decade.

Astronoid (2019) Astronoid

I am part of a few music groups on Facebook, and one of them mentioned this band, calling them “Dream Thrash”- a combination of dreampop and thrash metal. I’d say its more thrashgaze, with heavy effects/djenty guitar and the more whispery vocals than are a hallmark of the shoegaze genre, not the clear pop produced vocals that are the hallmark of dreampop.

That out of the way, this is possibly my favorite record of 2019. The opening track, “A New Color”, brims with energy and hopeful optimism and replaced Road Eyes as my airplane take off song. Right around 3 minutes in, when the plane is airborne and gaining climbing u to cruise, when we’re often breaking through the clouds, comes in possibly my favorite guitar solo of all time. On this record, Astronoid are unquestionably uptempo metal yet somehow at the same time being slow-changing enough to carry the emotional weight of shoegaze. The second track, “Dream in Lines”, is an aggressive, more metal-informed rocker, and the third is a power ballad that absolutely sealed the deal for me in terms of loving this album.

Other high points include the uptempo thrash jam “Breathe” and “Water”. Again infusing the metal, djenty mute strum guitar with soaring vocals and heavy backing harmonics, this record continues again and again to deliver head-banging jams that touch and heal a deep sadness in the soul. “Water” is a darker exploration, starting with a heavy chunky two-guitar & bass instrumental, virtuous breaks, and expansive echo and reverb. The band sounds like they are playing in the middle of an interstellar arena, fists human and alien in the sky.

The album sticks the landing with the penultimate track “Beyond the Scope”. This incredible song starts slowly, but upon reaching a turn, goes double-time as the melody and music climbs in pitch at 100 seconds in. This transition takes us into a greater urgency, with sustained, over-flying guitar notes keeping the harmony rich and complex.

Then, the beat drops out and a single guitar chord rings- “My hands are on my ears/They won’t stop ringing” smashes into your brain and your heart. Then again, the building section- “Feeble-minded/I can not decide/in my world, now I know/there’s no such thing as dying/so leave with a goodbye” and into another build and back to the chorus-

“My hands are on my ears/they won’t stop ringing”. I don’t think any lyric can better express the decade than that. If it were somehow possible for this album to end on this song, it would be at the head of this category.

Everything Starts to Be a Reminder (2019) Echodrone

As a former musician, I have a lot of friends who are musicians. I am very brutally honest about my feelings in music and that can make it awkward to have to comment on a friend’s hard work. Echodrone’s latest record made this very easy- the record is simply amazing. Echodrone’s earlier records bounced off of me a bit, but this one has just the right mixture of drone-drenched empty space, ethereal vocals, emotional anguish and euphoria, and a strong connection to the last 10 years in my mind. The tracks are named after the four seasons, starting with Winter and ending with Autumn. Interestingly, the tracks do not really stand out as being separate in my mind, much like how you cannot easily separate a season from another season in the same year.

“Winter” explodes with an epic, cymbal-laden meditation, that continues to grow and grow and expand, then finally becomes quieter, more melodic, and less drony in the second half of the 18 ½ minute song.

“Spring” features a finger-pick echo guitar interspersed with a beautiful co-ed vocal line guiding us down a pathway of different melodic and harmonic ideas. It then enters into a several-minutes long jammy contemplation that is utterly ecstatic to me- synths layered with effects-laden bass and more echo guitar into a full stop.

The best song on the record, “Summer”, begins with a vocal sample into a more or less straight-ahead rock and roll jam. This gives way to a downtempo effects section, then at right after 4 ½ minutes, gives way to a sound I can only call Olympian in hugeness. Fuzz bass, echoing guitars, and multilayered female vocals create this trance-like atmosphere that is rarefied and deeply marked with potent and everchanging imagery at the same time, like cream on top of coffee.

The sound continues to change and becomes quiet again once again with echo guitars carrying the music through. Back to a rhythmic return at 12 ¾ minutes. A synth flute melody flies over the whispered vocals, complex drum patterns- an opine to the end of life’s summer, the bitter sweetness of being old enough to not be hurt anymore by unlikely things failing to fly.

 Shoegaze Album of the Decade:

Sunbather (2013) Deafheaven

A single distorted guitar chord progression holding several notes through the chords for changing harmonics, exploding into double kick and even more guitars, into black metal screaming- this is the unmistakable beginning of Sunbather by San Francisco black metal band Deafheaven.

Due to its downtempo sections, overall distorted and layered production, and emotional scope, this album is loved not just by black metal fans but also by shoegaze fans such as myself. It is a perfect example of a successful crossover- not anticipated or forced in any way by the creators- but it just happens to work on so many different levels.

There are really only four songs on this record, the tracks in between them are much needed interludes. Something all Deafheaven songs do very well is compositioning. These tracks play out, in a way, like classical pieces, with many different sections, transitions, themes, changes, openings, closings, callbacks- it’s so incredibly dense and accomplished that you can listen to this album for weeks on end and still be surprised.

“Dream House” is the blazing opener of the record and puts on display everything we love about every song on here. To make this song the first track is insane, simply because of how over-the-top insanely powerful it is. After a brief interlude of just picked echo guitar, a single chord strum, the entire band comes back in a beat later, and this isn’t even the most emotional part of the song. That’s going to be at 7 minutes, 20 seconds in “I watched/It die!!!” screeches the vocalist as a guitar ostinado plays over the key notes that have been presented throughout the song in brutal crystal clarity. Then at 8 minutes- the vocalist and guitar break down, screaming and double picking guitar notes. It is difficult not to cry at this ending- and this is only the first song on the record.

“Sunbather” is both the title track and the album’s dark heart. Thrumming with a complex beat from the start, the other instruments are layered over this like a tangle of vines across an iron fence. Skillful use of double kick and drum fills keeps the band on target as we get to the breaks and turnarounds. The cymbals and guitars swirl creating complex patterns. Listening to this song from far away with extremely poor speakers would sound like static- similar to how Jupiter looks like a pale gold smear- turn up the volume a little, get a little closer, and you see the rich, threatening complexity of the swirling clouds of music and emotion. The song ends with a slow section about ¾ of the way through the 10 minute piece. An unforgettable echo guitar line plays sparsely over drums- invoking a Cure-like gothic sensibility. Then the band comes back in, playing the same melody and expanding upon it, a lighting bolt magnified to a thousand forks and twists going in all directions. It is the melodies at the end of Sunbather that were stuck in my head, unforgettable, after listening to this record. Unlike Dream House, this song ends on a down note, a question- the rest of the album is to give an answer, and incredibly, you will not be disappointed.

“Vertigo” is the longest song on the record at 14 ½ minutes, a blazing, minor key rocker that is meant to emotionally drag us down as far as we can go after Sunbather. The ending of the song invokes the Beatles “She’s So Heavy” before heading into “Windows” an ambient and spoken word piece featuring a drug deal gone bad- unquestionably a node to The Tenderloin, one of the more drug-laden districts in San Francisco and likely location of the band’s rehearsal studios.

Into “The Pecan Tree”, a song that has an seemingly impossible task: To somehow stick the landing of an extremely powerful and emotional record. We are looking for something coming into this track, but we are not totally sure what it is. We need something, but we can only follow the lights. The song opens up with insane double-kick guitar madness, 2 step rhythm, and then at 1:20 we see a glimpse through the storm, a hole of blue, that we can make it to, if we keep on going. Keep on going. Keep on walking. Smashing, swirling guitars and screams return, our view obstructed. Everything seems to be going at maximum at the end of this first section of the song.

At just after 3 minutes, the sonic assault finally begins to slow down, a march tempo into double kick continuous cymbals, back to march tempo, then, at 4 minutes 19 seconds, only picked echo guitar heralds us into the second section. The star of this section is a piano ostinato combined with the echo guitar, with a second guitar playing playful melodies over it. This is the starry night we can now see that the storm has cleared- this is the most optimistic and life affirming music on the record. A found audio recording of a detuned radio signals the ending of this section.

Eventually, this music fades just before four metal beats brings us to the conclusion- an octave-fingering guitar line and screeching vocal that is in my view one of the most awesome emotional turnarounds that I have ever experienced musically. The remaining outro sums up the entire record- life is big, difficult, unknowable, chaotic. Great albums stick the landing- and this ending does so, with incredible energy, on a record that did not even need it. Sunbather. One of the greatest rock records of all time and one of the very few of those albums to come out now, just about half a century after the 60s.

Post Punk Revivalists: The king of indie rock genres in the 00s, post punk was largely set down at the end of the decade with the major acts of the decade releasing milquetoast or downright laughable fare (are we human, or are we dancer?). However, post punk exploded back onto the scene in 2012 with The Money Store by Death Grips. Some returning groups from the 00s did end up releasing fantastic records, Roma 79 and Daughters being my favorites.

Cardinal Star (2014) Roma 79

I discovered north San Francisco bay area band Roma 79 through their single from the 00s, “Gold”, a sort of heavy, post-punk rocker with a few-thousand views on Youtube. I was very surprised when they reunited and recorded this followup album, which was one of my favorite records of 2014. Featuring a good amount of synth and dreampoppy guitar lines, the main standouts are the vocals and the brilliant drumming, which is a hallmark of great post-punk records of the 00s such as Fever to Tell or Turn On the Bright Lights. The strongest single on the record, “Seventeen”, features a complex drum lines, interlaced with vocals and synths. The song slowly builds up in emotional intensity and drops in layers of vaguely Phil Collins-esque drums and backing vocals, blossoming into a powerful meditative love song. “I’ll wait for it with you.” The final song on the record, is almost an answer to this track, closing the record on a strong point.

You Won’t Get What You Want (2018) Daughters

Daughters is another post-punk band that returned to release a followup nearly 10 years later with 2018’s “You Won’t Get What You Want”. Like all great post punk records, there are a number of characters in this room, and they all can be heard, each having their moments in the spotlight and their moments in the shadows.

One such character is the drums. A crushing combination of live and multitracking effects create a rhythm that provides both the constant heartbeat required by driving rock and roll based music, but also the texture, the complexity, that we seek out in the genre. Lots of tom toms used to keep the beat as opposed to cymbals, practically no hat. Invoking Killing Joke, except when they don’t want to right away, but bring it in later.

Another character is the vocals. Spoken word/sing song type delivery, where the mood and the words and more important than the melody. Lyrics invoke isolation, depression, contraction, abandonment, decline. It would almost be enough with just that, these drums and vocals- but this will also be added by another character, the music. The music seems to be generated mostly by guitar and bass, but there are clearly some synthesizer elements as well, used sparingly and to great effect. I can’t really describe the guitar tone, I would say, it shimmers, but not in an enlightening way. It’s like flashes in the dark, disorienting more than illuminating. The sound is like wood coming off a circular saw. It’s definitely this guitar sound that draws people into this record. All elements are moody, dark, aggressive, but it’s the guitar that really lays down flashes over the blackness.

“Satan in the Wait”, one of the best single tracks on the record, features an off-balance drum beat, carried by toms, and an air-raid siren like guitar sound. A throbbing, distorted bassline in time with the kick drum. At 1:30 in we are given a guitar riff that is beautiful and invoking of a banjo, lending a sensation of urban, southern gothic emotions. Horror film soundtracks come to mind, a combination of unsettling ambience and clear, unforgettable melodies. “Their Bodies are open” the chorus goes, making me think of world-ending events, a transformational death as seen in Arthur C. Clarkes Childhood’s End.

Another of my favorite tracks, “Daughter”, begins with a “bela legosi is dead” kick and snare rim drum beat, possibly electronic, along with a shimmery, surf-rock toned guitar riff. As the song proceeds, more elements are dropped in, and the drums are of particular note here, at 1:23 or so, they drop into a complex beat involving toms, cymbals, and snare. At 2:05 they drop in a clear guitar riff on top of raw noise, building to a climax with the vocal “There’s a war!” At this point, the noise drops out, just a clear guitar riff reminiscent of “Satan in the Wait”, drums coming in at 3:15 or so are particularly impactful.

The final track, “Guest House”, opens on a nearly unbearable sonic assault, the lyrics invoking somebody trapped outside of a bomb shelter during an apocalypse. Once again the gap between unbearable noise and beautiful melody is bridged, as the final dissonant chords give way to deep, harmonic, peaceful orchestra swells.

Post Punk Album of the Decade:

The Money Store (2012) Death Grips

The first time somebody played “Get Got” for me, it was during a really chillwave phase in my music taste and I was completely lost, and didn’t really understand what people saw in Death Grips. I was intrigued enough though, and circled back on some tracks from Exmilitary, their prior record. The more laid back tone and empty space present in tracks such as “Culture Shock” kept me interested enough to give The Money Store another shot a year or so later.

As my interest in chillwave started to fade, and I sought more emotional substance to my music, I returned to the Money Store, and was hooked. Each track is a relentless blast of aggressive drum beats, synthesizer driven melodies, and of course the unmistakable rap vocals of MC Ride.

A strong comparison for me, is between this record, and Joy Division’s second and final record, “Closer”. Relentless beats, but never getting boring, always inventing new rhythms to cast a texture over the musical landscape. Short, fast songs, transitioning from one beat and tempo to the other, never giving you a chance to catch your breath.

The music is highly influenced by hip hop, appearing to be a chopped and cut style, with synthesizers combined with production on the vocals, adding vocals, filter sweeps, reverses, etc- so much energy and craft went into creating what is on its surface very simple music- drums, vocals, and production. Standout track “Hustle Bones” does a fantastic job of expressing what is so great about every song on this record. Everything barely makes sense, but then it all comes together in a singular moment that anybody can nod their head to.

MC Ride’s best is on display in the classic hit, “I’ve Seen Footage”. In his relentless, attacking rap style, he tells us the story of watching gore or wtf videos from reddit or 4chan (or Stile Project if you’re really old like me)-  describing what he’s seen, and then underscoring that with the chorus, “I stay noided”- the character Ride creates is deeply anxious and paranoid, while at the same time being insatiable in the quest for knowing more, something I believe is nearly universal to the experience of the internet-informed human, a phenomenon that would later in the decade lead to diseases thought dead brought back by anti-vax movements, and the election of conspiracy theorist and popularizer Donald Trump as president of the united states.

And that’s the formula to each track on Money Store- working around something more or less literal, Ride’s poetry brings us into the dark state the world was only beginning to enter at the start of the decade.

Closing track “Hacker” opens with a recording of Ride, yelling, presumably at a concert “No ins and outs!!! You come out, your shit is GONE”, then into a 4-on the floor dance beat to end the record on an absolute banger. The music, carried by the beat and Ride’s systematic delivery, is left to its own devices, with glitchy, cut-off synth arpeggios, everything getting out of the way of the beat. “Having conversations with your car alarm”, “you speak with us in certain circles, you will be dethroned or detained”, and “Gaga can’t handle this shit” are some of the lyrical gems that Ride has saved for last here, closing out a post punk record that stands alongside Closer or Turn on the Bright Lights as one of the best of all time.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Chapter 3

Sam Winchester, Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. 

Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Warnings: mild language

Words: 5.3K

Everything Tags:

@sorenmarie87 //  @lefthologramdeer // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @his-paradox // @letsby

Supernatural Tags:

@wings-of-a-raven // @kazosa // @negans-wife // @grace-for-sale // @geeksareunique // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23  // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles  // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @screechingartisancashbailiff

(I don’t normally tag series, but since this is an AU, I will tag specifically for this one if you don’t want to be on my SPN list. Let me know if you want to hop on any of my tag lists.)

The Pact Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose // @zombiewerewolfqueen // @silkiechicken // @collette04 // @flamencodiva // @katiecurls75 // @death-unbecomes-you // @colie87 // @roxytheimmortal // @klanceiscannon14 // 

A glimmer of light reflected from her dress, capturing his attention again. Though relatively short, Samuel kept drifting in and out of the ceremony as his mind wandered through a battlefield of questions and emotions.

So much about what was happening felt wrong; yet somewhere inside, he knew it wasn’t. Each passing moment, he felt the Oracle’s words burning an imprint in his brain.

“…behind the feathers, the dark, iridescent feathers, lies the match to your unburnt flame. She’ll be of great comfort to you when your grief folds you over and renders you useless…”

The meaning wasn’t quite clear to him yet, but it meant something. Whether it was that (Y/N) MacLeod was crucial to his plan against Crowley, or to his own demise, it wasn’t certain. Either way though, the nightmarish feeling of misery he lived with in his heart would be over. He’d have his revenge on Crowley, or he would be dead and in Heaven with his beloved.

Bobby continued with the promise and vows, not bothering to savor the moments as he did with any other previous ceremony. All parties involved were clearly anxious for it to be over, Samuel included. Once it was done, he could at least leave the shared space with Crowley and begin planning exactly how he would use his new wife to his advantage.

Samuel dared to look down at her then. Though the sheen of her gown was captivating, he purposely kept his eyes cast down at his hands, shoes, cane… anywhere that her curious gaze was not. He drew in a deep breath and being this close to her was able to pick up the scent of lilacs and juniper. Bobby’s words faded into the background as Samuel finally caught her gaze.

(Y/N) lifted her face up at the exact moment Sam looked down. It was also the same moment, Bobby asked them to join hands. He reluctantly held out his hand not using the cane for her to place her hand in. When she did, he was surprised to feel just how delicate her hands were. Her skin silky and warm, and her fingers held steady against his slightly trembling ones.

In stark contrast, her expression was steely and determined. She continued to meet his gaze, holding her head regally while pursing her full lips into knowing smirk. Sam couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts had set her face that way, then decided that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter because he refused to take the time to know her. She wouldn’t be alive long enough.

From within his cloak, Bobby removed the burlap chord that would be warded and tied to bound Sam’s and (Y/N)’s wrists, a symbol of their union as man and wife. That chord would be loosely tied and worn until the wedded couple reached their marriage bed to consummate the coupling. Samuel’s heart began to pound when the Maester wove it across both their wrists, securing it with an Enochian blessing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Crowley flinch at the prayer. His smug face fell away, and his jaw clenched, along with his hands. He seemed unsteady on his feet for just a moment; but enough of one for Sam to take note of. When the prayer was finished, Crowley steadied himself and straightened his shoulders.

“Can we get on with this, please?” the demon asked with a raise brow. “Some of us have other places to be.”

Bobby flashed him a look of disdain and continued with the ceremony. As he read the final passage from the Old Carver Testament, he raised both hands, placing one on each of their shoulders.

“Samuel, (Y/N), with this last gesture, I ask you to share your first kiss before the witnesses present, confirming your vows to be man and wife.”

A streak of panic washed over Sam’s face. His mouth went suddenly dry as his jaw clenched just like Crowley’s did a moment before. He looked back to (Y/N), who’s expression hadn’t altered one bit from the cool and unrattled exterior she presented before.

Sam took a step towards her, her hand still lightly held in his and leaned in. The closer he got, the more he could smell the lavender of her soap. Sam brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth, allowing only the briefest moment of contact. It wasn’t horrible, but he was glad to see she recoiled from it just as quickly as he did. It was enough, however, to satisfy the onlookers.

Bobby held both his hands out, palms up and directed his voice towards the entire room. “Forever here, joined in this place, may your lives together be long, happy, prosperous and in service to each other.”

With their wrists still bound, and no celebration to contend with, Samuel led (Y/N) from the catacombs and back up the stone stairwell. Slowly they ascended to the main floor of the castle, and that’s when he finally was able to speak to her freely.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“I supposed you’re suppose to get me pregnant,” she replied calmly, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Or, if you aren’t quite ready for that, we can say our goodnights and revisit this… problem, in the morning.”

Sam snickered. “Problem?”

“Yes, the issue of you can’t stand the sight of me, and I’m quite sure I’m meant to die in these walls.”

Her frankness caused him to choke and begin to cough. “What… what would ever give you that idea?” He tried to sound surprised, which he was, but not for the reasons she probably guessed.

(Y/N) smiled and rolled her eyes, but not in an annoyed sort of way. “Oh, you are a naïve one, aren’t you,” she tutted. “I’m a MacLeod, and you’re a Winchester. We are born to be mortal enemies, are we not?”

Sam shrugged, “I suppose.”

“So, what reason could our fathers have for putting this together other than to begin the War to end all Wars?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’ve honestly decided to let things go?” he lied. He knew the reason, and also realized that she probably did, too. (Y/N) wasn’t some stupid, naïve woman. Sheltered or not, he could tell just by the twinkle in her eyes that she knew far more than she was letting on. “Either way, I don’t think tonight is the time to figure it out.”

“No, I guess not,” she said, and for the first time, Samuel thought she actually looked nervous. “What are we to do about this?” She lifted her wrist that was bound to his.

“We go up to my chambers, untie it and figure out which side of the bed you want to sleep on. If we don’t make it look real… at least for tonight…”

“Better than getting lectured I suppose,” she relented. “Well, husband, lead the way.”

  Up in Samuel’s chambers, the space was kept warm by a fire burning lowly in the hearth, but you still felt a chilly reception upon entering. You saw your trunks had been moved in there and Sam happened to see them just as you did. Being so close, with your wrists still bound, it was hard to miss his body flinch at the realization that he would REALLY be sharing his room with someone else. Someone, he never wanted.

You kept your cool about you, just as you had for most of the evening thus far. Instead of concentrating on how much Samuel despised you, you decided to take in every detail that you could.

In the center of the room, was a large, wood-carved, four-post bed adorned with a deep blue canopy with gold accents. The woven blanket that covered it was made of the same colors. Two high back chairs graced either side of the large window that overlooked all of Lawrence.

The far wall, starting from the edge of the window, was lined with book shelves and full, to overflowing, with hundreds of books.

“Like to read?” you asked casually, trying to lessen the awkwardness that was rapidly growing.

“Yes,” he said simply and quickly removed the binding from your wrist.

Sam moved to throw it into the fire, but you placed your hand over his to stop him.

“I wouldn’t. You know they’ll ask for it. It supposed to follow our lives and children, remember?”

He grunted in agreement and haphazardly tossed it onto a small trunk that lived near the bed. Samuel sighed then and limped his way towards the bed. When it gave under his weight, he sighed again, but this time with the relief of being off his feet.

“Does that give you much trouble?” you asked and nodded towards his hip.

Again, he just glared at you and nodded. “Some.”

From the moment you had entered the catacomb chapel, and promised to be his wife, Samuel had done little to show you he was on board with the arrangement, other than not object to it. He had been cold and aloof, and while you didn’t expect him to lay out a red carpet for you, you had hoped he would at least be curious enough to ask you a few questions, or maybe even, engage you in conversation.

“Is there anything you’d like to know about me? Anything that may make this all a little less uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” Sam questioned, rising again to his feet and turning to face you. “You think this is uncomfortable? This is Hell, M’Lady. What our fathers have arranged here is my Hell on Earth.” His tone was nearly conversational, even chuckling after what he had just said. A gesture that made your blood start to boil and your spine straighten.

He took a few steps closer, his shadow engulfing you. “I don’t know what you imagined this arrangement actually becoming. I, however, do not plan to take this any further than what we already have. Save the binding or burn it, I couldn’t care less.”

He turned on the heel of his boot and made his way towards the door. Without turning back around, Sam simply turned his head to leave you with one last remark.

“I’m going for a walk, do not wait up.”

With that, Lord Winchester allowed the oversized door close behind him, leaving you alone in the room, with only the crackle of the fireplace making any sound.

 No sleep came for you that night. Afraid the Winchesters would have someone stab you in your slumber, you sat up in the bed until light came in through the window. Finally, allowing your eyes to close, even if it was just for a minute, and a booming knock came at the chamber door. Bolting up from sleep you sprung from the bed, pulling your nightgown closed at the neck and wrapping one arm around your chest.

“Co—come in!” you called.

When the door opened, you imagined Samuel would be on the other side. So, when it was the King’s face you saw, you tried to composure yourself and not react the way your surprise wanted you too. Before he could notice you still in your nightgown, you grabbed the robe you’d laid out on the bed, put it on and quickly cinched it around you’re your waist.

“M’lady,” the King bowed. His eyes were dark, and his face wore a Cheshire cat smile, which did a lot to enhance the dimples buried in his salt and pepper beard.

“Your Majesty,” you said and returned the gesture. “To what do I own the honor?”

He didn’t answer right away. John Winchester clasped his hands behind his back and slowly walked through the room. He eyed the bed and saw that only one side had been utilized. His dark brown eyes flicked up towards you, and for a moment you weren’t sure if he was just going to get it done and slit your throat himself. Instead, a smile appeared, spanning the width of his face, and enacting crater-like dimples to form on his cheeks.

“Check in on you of course. Seeing if your first night in your new home was comfortable. You may be my son’s wife, but that makes you my daughter now, does it not?”

“Yes, I imagine it does,” you replied demurely, trying to maintain an ounce of respect.

“I see my son is up and gone, already. I hope he was kind to you, on your wedding night.”

He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye as he walked across the length of floor and towards the window that overlooked his Kingdom.

“He was a gentleman,” you said, not wanting to give more than necessary.

“Good. That pleases me. Though we are Winchesters, warriors and peacekeepers by rite, doesn’t mean we can carry on without couth and respect. I know Samuel struggles with the arrangement. As I imagine you do, as well. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but I want you to know, (Y/N), your willingness to step in and take part in it shows your dedication to the cause.”

“What cause is that, Your Majesty?”

“The protection of Lawrence, of course. You do realize just what it is we do here, don’t you? How imperative it is to maintain peace in the realm, and to keep these lands away from those who would seek to control or destroy them.”

“Like, my father for instance?” you dared to suggested.

John paused and looked at you curiously. You could tell he was examining you, trying to read the root of your intentions. You internally laughed at his attempt. One doesn’t live with Crowley for as long as you have and not learn the art of maintaining an impenetrable poker face.

“That was in the past,” he said, finally moving on. “I meant the battle that rages in Purgatory. That’s the true threat. If our forces cannot hold them off. Your father’s attempt at stealing what’s ours will pale in comparison to what those monsters will do.”

He turned to full on face you now. Though he continued to move slowly towards you, the way he carried himself told you that he was holding a lot back.

“Now, what matters, is keeping this alliance between us and your kin. An heir was promised; its what cemented the deal,” he began, his voice lowering with each word. “I didn’t expect it to happen in one night, but, if within a fortnight you aren’t with child, I will have you sent back to your father’s castle. But from now on he’ll house you in the dungeons with the rest of the traitorous filth.”

His voice went deeper with the last few words, causing a nervous reverberation to rattle through your body. Your limbs began to shake, not visible enough for John to see how much he’d shaken you, but enough for YOU to know. You instantly hated him for the threat and wondered off-hand how Samuel truly felt about his father. The only way you were going to get through this all alive, was to show him you were no one to be trifled with.

Standing taller and letting your arms fall to your sides, you cleared your throat and squared off with his gaze. “Clearly, I am not the problem here, in that regard… Your Majesty. I am here, in the chambers I was to share with my husband. He is the one who went for a late-night walk, not to return. So, if you want to have this conversation and try to intimidate anyone in this scenario, may I suggest you tracking him down and laying the threat of damnation upon his shoulders.”

You were able to maintain a calm tone, but internally there was an inferno of anger raging. The King seemed slightly amused at your reply and leaned back, casting his gaze down at you. Thankfully, it had softened a little and helped you to feel slightly less defensive.

“I mean no disrespect, I just don’t feel—”

“Its fine. You had every right to say that. You’re right, Samuel isn’t here, and he should be. I shall have a word with him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. This is difficult for everyone. However, I would like to give him a day or two to adjust. Myself as well. I shall seek him out and ask for a tour of the castle and grounds. I understand your urgency for an heir, but if you want this to be successful, I ask you to give me that fortnight to make it work. Give your son time to comply. He’ll hate you less for it in the end.”

Waiting on pins and needles for John’s reply was torture enough. Finally, he nodded and cast a smile in your direction.

“You have the MacLeod knack for negotiating. Did your father ever tell you that?”

“No, sire. My father rarely speaks anything to me unless it’s a command of some kind.”

“I see. Shame on him then.”

A slight knock wrapped on the door, right before it creaked open, one of the Winchester guards came in, whispered something in the King’s ear and he nodded in response. John bowed slightly and upon standing straight, noticed for the first time you weren’t properly dressed. “I shall take my leave of you M’Lady. Be sure to get that tour. I think you’ll thoroughly enjoy the gardens. I don’t believe you have many places like those left around the cliff.”

“We do not.”

“Well, be sure to see them. We will speak again, soon.”

As the King took his leave, and the door shut behind you, you exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. The relief that washed over you was enough to bowl you over. Sitting back down on the bed, you steadied your breath and closed your eyes.

There was work to be done, that was for certain. You would not be sent back to Crowley’s, nor would you be the King’s puppet to control his son. You would, however, try and get Samuel to cooperate just a little; even if that meant using the potion you had stored away in your gown to initiate that cooperation.

Reaching between your breasts, you pulled the small crystal vile from your cleavage and held it up eye level. Narrowing your eyes at the clear liquid, you smiled wanly. “Looks like you’re going to be useful, after all.”

  The gardens were in full bloom and bursting with color. Sam slowly strolled down the gravel path as he passed through the rows of lilies, roses and box hedges. He approached the archway that lead to the reflecting pool and eventually to the path into what the old Maesters labeled as the Elven Woods.

Sam had never ventured in there himself, but that was mostly because he had never been allowed to trifle with the magic that lived within Lawrence. Then, when he had met Jessica, she was enamored with them; asking dozens of questions and nearly begged Sam to take her there. He promised he would, as soon as the rains had passed. By then she was gone and now, it was just a place that he avoided.

Just before the arch, he found a stone bench and sat down to rest his hip. From the direction he just came, her heard footsteps shuffling along the same path of gravel. Bobby was approaching, his cloak loosely tied around his neck, his head down most likely deep in concentration.

Despite his melancholy, Sam smiled to himself at the sight of his old friend.

“Bobby!” he called, grabbing the man’s attention. “What brings you out here so early?”

At the sound of Sam’s voice, Bobby’s head snapped up in surprise. “Sam,” he started and quickly glanced around the path. “What are you doing out here? I figured you would be with your bride.”

“You thought wrong,” he shrugged and moved over on the bench offering Bobby a place to sit.

“So, what are you doin’ out here? Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“Don’t start with me, Bobby.”

“Let me guess, you’ve barely said two words to the girl since last night.”

“It was more than two… five at least.”

“Don’t sass me, boy.”

“I’m not, Bobby. I just don’t need to be with her every moment of the day,” Sam shrugged, and hoped that Bobby wouldn’t read too much into his overt aloofness.

“She should be out here with you at least. Keep up appearance. You know your daddy will expect you to treat her as your wife.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t control everything I do, now can he?”

“Samuel, you are walking a dangerous path. If you don’t do what’s expected—”

“And what is that, exactly? Produce an heir? Fine, but for God’s sake, I just met her. I need a minute to adjust and John will have to wait.” He couldn’t help the wrinkle of his nose and the distaste in his mouth that appeared when saying his father’s name. He loved the old man, but he sure as Hell didn’t like him in that moment.

“You listen here, Sam. That woman there, she’s your wife now. You agreed to his terms, and part of those terms is producing an heir. You don’t gotta like her, son, but you gotta find a way to get past your hatred of her father and make this work. Part of making it work, is you’re gonna have to spend time with her—”

“Bobby, please, just stop,” Sam pleaded, but the old man wouldn’t relent.

“I don’t know exactly what your daddy and that monster are cahootin’ over, thick as thieves they are. But, at least they ain’t fighting, and that’s just better for everyone. So, man up, be kind to her, treat her with respect, and maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you find there. Also, keep your eyes and ears open, boy. Those two are cookin’ something up, and I’d bet anything if you wanted the truth, the way to get it is to be nice to that wife of yours.”

A calculating smile rippled across the young Winchester’s face. “Why, Maester Singer, are you suggesting I use that girl to advance my own agenda?”

The corners of Bobby’s mouth turned down and he shrugged, as if to say, ‘Who knows?’

If Bobby knew that he already had a plan for his new wife, he probably would’ve knocked Sam out cold. But his plan wasn’t what stopped him from at least making small talk with her the night before. It was the feathers and what the Oracle had said.

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that began to grow inside him; the one that started the moment the binding chord had joined their wrists. The feeling that gave him pause and wonder just who this woman was.

He figured keeping his distance as much as possible would have to get him through until he figured the best way to take care of her, permanently.

“I heard what Pamela said,” Bobby continued, as if reading Sam’s thoughts. “I’m not blind, either. I saw what the girl was wearing…”

Sam’s head snapped up, and before he could speak, he saw (Y/N) walking towards them. Bobby followed his line of sight and immediately turned to face her. Sam stood, using his cane for support and tried to paste a smile to his face before she reached them.

With each step she took that brought her closer, the more Sam felt the pace of his heart quicken. There was no denying her beauty, nor the regal way she carried herself down the gravel path. Rays of sulight peeking through the trees coupled with the pastel flowers that lined either side of the path, she appeared to have an ethereal glow surrounding her. She wore a deep blue gown, with a matching hooded wrap that flowed out behind her. The way the material rippled around her legs as she moved made her look even more otherworldly than before.

Samuel’s breath caught, but only for a moment. In it though, for the first time in nearly a year, the name Jessica wasn’t sitting heavily on his heart. In that moment, there was nothing but (Y/N) MacLeod.

  You saw them, your husband and the old Maester, talking in hushed tones at the end of the path. Deciding to carry on anyway, you slowed your gate and hoped you would be able to be a few steps away before they saw you. No such luck.

Both men spotted you quickly and were at attention by the time you reached them.

“M’Lord,” you said softly and offered a small curtsy to Samuel. Then turned to Maester Singer and did the same, “Maester.”

They both bowed their heads and smiled wanly in greeting.

“What brings you out here?” Samuel asked politely.

“It’s a gorgeous afternoon. As you well know, we don’t see the sun nearly this much over near the cliffs. Thought I’d take the opportunity to enjoy it.”

Bobby not so subtly cleared his throat and cast a look over towards Samuel, who seemed to ignore it. Biting his lip, Bobby spoke up for him.

“Sam, why don’t you escort (Y/N) here through the gardens, give her the grand tour. I’m sure she would love to see the roses, and maybe up to the entrance to the Elven Woods.”

Bobby turned and glared at Samuel, who simply paused, then stared back for a moment. You noticed an expression cross Lord Winchester’s face and made sure to tuck that away for later. It was strange to say the least, and something that just piqued your curiosity.

He eventually broke the stare and turned back to you. “Yes, a tour would be a great idea. Can I interest you in a proper walk about?” he asked, unaware you could tell he was placating the Maester.

“I’d love that,” you replied and took a brief glance down at his cane. “Are you feeling up to it?”

He gripped the top of it tightly enough for his knuckles to whiten. “Perfectly fine. Shall we?” Making a sweeping gesture with his arm, you nodded at the Maester and began to walk past him.

Samuel stopped at Bobby’s side, whispered something and left the old man with a lingering, stern expression. When he finally caught up to you, he held out his elbow for you to take, and escorted you through the gardens.

You walked for a while in silence, and every so often he would point to a certain flower or herb and give you its proper name and what it would benefit. From what Samuel told you, all the flowers and herbs that were planted were done with purpose. Maester Singer and his flock tended to them daily, painstakingly weeding the gardens, pinching off the herbs when ready, and making sure they received all the proper watering when the rains and storms didn’t decimate them.

“So, what are these Elven Woods Maester was speaking of?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“A place that I do not venture to,” he said flatly, his eyes forward and intent on the path ahead.

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t.”

“There must be a reason,” you said, but he didn’t respond, just kept his eyes forward and his shoulder’s straight. “Or not…” you mumbled.

Deciding to change tactics, you chanced another question. “Did you spend a lot of time out here as a boy?”

You saw his expression flinch, then soften. He inhaled and when he responded with more than a grunt, you were a bit taken aback.

“No, not too much. Especially not after my mother died,” his said, his tone softer, more conversational. “She loved being out here. I was young when she died, but what I can remember was she loved the gardens. Her family had tended the lands for a long time, and she was incredibly knowledgeable in spell work, herbs, potions. My dad, however, is a soldier. Always was, always will be. Once she died, he pretty much took me and my brother under his wing, said to leave the plants to the Maesters, then tried to make us soldiers, too.”

You stayed quiet, hoping he would continue. Getting him to open like this meant getting to know him. If you could get to know him, maybe your chances of staying alive would improve. But Samuel stayed quiet, not offering anymore details to the conversation.

He turned you down another lane and paused halfway towards the end. His brow furrowed, but only briefly. Assuming he had simply been taken over by a passing thought, you didn’t nudge him to go on until he was ready.

When he turned to you then, he smiled large enough that both cheeks dimpled. You found him to be incredibly handsome, but also intrigued by whatever caused this shift.

“(Y/N), see that there?” he pointed down the lane to a small path that was covered in an archway of trees. “That’s the entrance to the Elven Woods. Its where so much of Lawrence’s magic stems from. I understand you have a knack for spellwork, at least that’s what my father told me. Rowena taught you, right?”

“She did. Some of it. Some I learned by trial and error.”

Sam laughed. It rang partially false to your ears, but you considered maybe he was just nervous. “Would you care to take a stroll through the woods?”

“What about you? Didn’t you just say you don’t go in there?”

“Well, yes. I won’t be able to go, the terrain… its too rough on my hip. But I highly encourage you to pass through the arches, at least. There are fields and fields of ferns and wildflowers, mushrooms, dandelion and even Devil’s Claw just growing everywhere.

Samuel was continuing to surprise you; first by answering a question with a personal story of his mother, and now with encouraging your interest in herbs and spell work. Your hackles were raised now more than ever.

“Alright, sure, I’ll take a quick look. Promise to wait for me?” you asked, softly batting your eyes and trying to appear interested in his company.

“Of course. I’ll be right here, M’Lady,” he said, with another half faux grin.

Stepping over a smattering of bright pink petals from the azaleas growing through the trees, you picked up the dirt path and followed it into this special place known as the Elven woods. The deeper you progressed, the more you were enveloped by a low hanging mist.

A dozen or so more steps, and the canopy of trees broke, but only to rise up further into the sky. You could still see spots of blue with light filtering towards the lush forest floor. With the mist settled on the ground, it reflected the light giving the forest a lustrous glow that surely only lent to the area’s mystique.

In the midst of a small clearing, stood a hundred-year-old oak tree. It had dozens of limbs twisting and turning in every direction. The way the light was floating down through the leaves was mystical. Slowly taking steps towards you, you reached out and placed your hand against the bark.

Instantly, you could feel the surge of energy that spiked up through the bottoms of your feet, then coursed through your veins. It was as if it was just sitting there, laying dormant waiting for you to come along. You felt alive, inspired and injected with a sort of euphoric calmness you’d never experienced.

Later, when you were soaked through, bleeding and trying to catch your breath, your thoughts would circle back to the day and how you ended up where you were… you would blame that infusion of magic, for being distracted, unable to hear your attacker approaching from behind and getting close enough to put a blade to your throat.

Tags are open! Chapter 4, coming soon! 

[silverskye13]

I can't stress this enough, your writing is absolutely amazing!! And that prompt got me thinking; How would Gaster react if Grillby snapped at him? Would we follow the ice Elemental's perspective if Grillby died? What did the ice Elemental think when dying or did the Elemental even have a mind on it's own? Either way- Keep up the good work Skye!!

Oh ho ho sereino swooping in here with the interesting questions.

How would Gaster react if Grillby snapped at him?

He would probably do his best to sympathize, and would be able to do it a little better than Ammy can. Amathea has already stated she just... can’t feel that empathy for her enemies anymore. If you’re on the side she’s against, she will take you out indiscriminately. Gaster can’t do that. So Grillby confessing he was scared of the whole ordeal and that it’s changed his perception of himself would strike so many familiar chords with Gaster. He would probably try to keep Grillby calm and assure him that he isn’t a terrible person.

However successful that may or may not be is completely dependent on Grillby at that point. Where we left him it would have helped some, but to similar effect. Even Gaster would have to admit its intimidating knowing something like Grillby exists on some level. He's a better liar than Ammy is though, so who knows?

Would we follow the Ice Elemental’s perspective if Grillby died?

I’m kinda unclear on this. You mean like, the moment Grillby died, or for the rest of the story?

If it was for the moment, I would be pretty tempted to write it from the Ice Elemental's POV just because it would be a cool character exploration to show the readers that headspace. I've thought a lot about the potential of elementals as they were intended - emotionally detached and unblinkingly following orders. And having the jarring juxtaposition of Grillby's emotional mess being his downfall vs a "perfect" elemental triumphing because of emotional distance would be a really cool symbolism thing. Like just really crank the literary dial over 9000. However, given that Grillby has been our main character, it would also be rude from a reading standpoint to rob everyone of his final moments - however terrified and painful those might be.

If you mean for the rest of the story? We would probably switch to Gaster. He’s the closest secondary character, and would make the smoothest transition to main character. Plus the emotional struggle of losing a friend to an unstoppable force and dealing with the repercussions of how you could have chosen differently and saved them? Wow that hurts me a lot tell me more! It would be really difficult to make the Ice Elemental the main character from then on out because they're a new thing readers aren't attached to right now, and stands completely opposite of everything we have been trained to view as the "right" perspective.

What did the Ice Elemental think when dying, or did the Ice Elemental even have a mind of its own?

Honestly, they probably weren't thinking much of anything. A lot of mild disappointment at having lost, not enjoying being in pain, basic sorts of emotions. There might have been a moment where they realized they were scared of what was going to happen next.

The elemental certainly had a mind of its own as far as I believe anyway! But I always imagined elementals springing from the void with an attitude a lot like being eager to please. It's kind of like... I dunno... a toddler? They're still learning the world. And once they get a taste of free will they will totally try to explore it. But until they figure out free will exists? They're pretty complacent and eager to do things if it makes their authority happy [ for a toddler the reward for good behavior would be like, love and acceptance, but we didn't get that far with the Ice Elemental ].

I dunno I kiiiinda know what I'm getting at but I feel like it's hard to explain. Like--

If you woke up and all you knew was someone told you to do something -- assuming you spoke their language and knew the context of what they were asking despite not knowing anything else -- would you even think to question it? For at least a few moments, you would be completely vacant of all bias, of all perspective needed to judge whether your actions are right or wrong when weighed against xyz repercussions. You are just faced with someone obviously telling you to do something, and showing through word and action that they expect you to do it.

Grillby has always had a bit of perspective that says he's allowed to say "no" in some way to a conmand, because when he was very first summoned he was asked if he would help, not told that he had to.

But the elemental he was fighting wasn't asked. They were told. And all they had context for was someone giving them an order intent on that order being followed, with no basis for questioning whether that order was possible, let alone a "good" or "right" decision. They don't have a moral or judgemental compass yet. They don't even know they can have those things yet. They just woke up for the first time.

I guess in a sense, they didn't have a mind of their own, because they didn't know enough about their own mind to decide to stop. And when asked to stop, their only real rebuttal for it is "But why should I stop? Why aren't you stopping? If you don't have a choice, why would I?"

And we could maybe dance around the possibility of Nature in all of this, that some of your personality might be inherited from somewhere, and thus your decisions and morals could be influenced as well. But how do you account for the Nature of something that is... an element? How does being made of magic and aether influence your decision making and personality? Would that even change anything when you're so new?

And even if all of that had a bearing on the present - would they decide the side they were on was worth leaving?

Fun questions! Fun thoughts! God I love fiction. This is all a really fun "what's the psychology of chaos" sort of mind puzzle that you could walk down for ages.

And I'm very off topic now lol.

[howling--fantods]

An Excerpt of the Essay: David Lynch Keeps His Head by David Foster Wallace

I know a lot of you love David Lynch and this is an EXCELLENT defense and deconstruction of his work. The full essay is largely about the film Lost Highway, which was about to be released, and is 67 pages with 61 footnotes. The whole essay is incredibly entertaining and if you like to read, is worth it. You can find it here: x. This excerpt mainly concerns Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. I put the footnotes at the end, I know it isn’t ideal, but it is hard when there aren’t pages.

9A. The cinematic tradition it’s curious that nobody seems to have observed Lynch comes right out of (w/ an epigraph)

“It has been said that the admirers of The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari are usually painters, or people who think and remember graphically. This is a mistaken conception.”

—Paul Rotha, “The German Film”

Since Lynch was trained as a painter (an Ab-Exp painter at that), it seems curious that no film critics or scholars(42) have ever treated of his movies’ clear relation to the classical Expressionist cinema tradition of Wiene, Kobe, early Lang, etc. And I am talking here about the very simplest and most straightforward sort of definition of Expressionist, viz. “Using objects and characters not as representations but as transmitters for the director’s own internal impressions and moods.”

Certainly plenty of critics have observed, with Kael, that in Lynch’s movies “There’s very little art between you and the filmmaker’s psyche…because there’s less than the usual amount of inhibition.” They’ve noted the preponderance of fetishes and fixations in Lynch’s work, his characters’ lack of conventional introspection (an introspection which in film equals “subjectivity”), his sexualization of everything from an amputated limb to a bathrobe’s sash, from a skull to a “heart plug,”(43) from split lockets to length-cut timber. They’ve noted the elaboration of Freudian motifs that tremble on the edge of parodic cliche—the way Marietta’s invitation to Sailor to “fuck Mommy” takes place in a bathroom and produces a rage that’s then displaced onto Bob Ray Lemon; the way Merrick’s opening dream-fantasy of his mother supine before a rampaging elephant has her face working in what’s interpretable as either terror or orgasm; the way Lynch structures Dune’s labrynthian plot to highlight Paul Eutrades’s “escape” with his “witch-mother” after Paul’s father’s “death” and “betrayal.” They have noted with particular emphasis what’s pretty much Lynch’s most famous scene, Blue Velvet’s Jeffrey Beaumont peering through a closet’s slats as Frank Booth rapes Dorothy while referring to himself as “Daddy” and to her as “Mommy” and promising dire punishments for “looking at me” and breathing through an unexplained gas mask that’s overtly similar to the O2-mask we’d just seen Jeffrey’s own dying Dad breathing through.

They’ve noted all this, critics have, and they’ve noted how, despite its heaviness, this Freudian stuff tends to give Lynch’s movies an enormous psychological power; and yet they don’t seem to make the obvious point that these very heavy Freudian riffs are powerful instead of ridiculous because they are deployed Expressionistically, which among other things means they’re deployed in an old-fashioned, pre-postmodern way, I.e. nakedly, sincerely, without postmodernism’s abstraction or irony. Jeffrey Beaumont’s interslat voyeurism may be a sick parody of the Primal Scene, but neither he (a “college boy”) nor anybody else in the movie ever shows any inclination to say something like “Gee, this is sort of like a sick parody of the good old Primal Scene” or even betrays any awareness that a lot of what’s going on is—both symbolically and psychoanalytically—heavy as hell. Lynch’s movies, for all their unsubtle archetypes and symbols and intertextual references and c., have about them the remarkable unselfish-consciousness that’s kind of the hallmark of Expressionist art—nobody in Lynch’s movies analyzes or metacriticizes or hermenteuticizes or anything(44), including Lynch himself. This set of restrictions makes Lynch’s movies fundamentally unironic, and I submit that Lynch’s lack of irony is the real reason some cineastes—in this age when ironic self-consciousness is the one and only universally recognized badge of sophistication—see him as a naif or a buffoon. In fact, Lynch is neither—though nor is he any kind of genius of visual coding or tertiary symbolism or anything. What he is is a weird hybrid blend of classical Expressionist and contemporary postmodernist, an artist whose own “internal impressions and moods” are (like ours) an olla podrida of neurogenic predisposition and phylogenic myth and psychoanalytic schema and pop-cultural iconography—in other words, Lynch is sort of G. W. Pabst with an Elvis ducktail.

This kind of contemporary Expressionist art, in order to be any good, seems like it needs to avoid two pitfalls. The first is a self-consciousness of form where everything gets very mannered and refers cutely to itself.(45) The second pitfall, more complicated, might be called “terminal idiosyncrasy” or “antiempathetic solipsism” or something: here the artist’s own perceptions and moods and impressions and obsessions come off as just too particular to him alone. Art, after all, is supposed to be a kind of communication, and “personal expression” is cinematically interesting only to the extent that what’s expressed finds and strikes chords within the viewer. The difference between experiencing art that succeeds as communication and art that doesn’t is rather like the difference between being sexually intimate with a person and watching that person masturbate. In terms of literature, richly communicative Expressionism is epitomized by Kafka, bad and onanistic Expressionism by the average Graduate Writing Program avant-garde story.

It’s the second pitfall that’s especially bottomless and dreadful, and Lynch’s best movie, Blue Velvet, avoided it so spectacularly that seeing the movie when it first came out was a kind of revelation for me. It was such a big deal that ten years later I remember the date—30 March 1986, a Wednesday night—and what the whole group of us MFA Program(46) students did after we left the theater, which was to go to a coffeehouse and talk about how the movie was a revelation. Our Graduate MFA Program had been pretty much of a downer so far: most of us wanted to see ourselves as avant-garde writers, and our professors were all traditional commercial Realists of the New Yorker school, and while we loathed these teachers and resented the chilly reception our “experimental” writing received from them, we were also starting to recognize that most of our own avant-garde stuff really was solipsistic and pretentious and self-conscious and masturbatory and bad, and so that year we went around hating ourselves and everyone else and with no clue about how to get experimentally better without caving in to loathsome commercial-Realistic pressure, etc. This was the context in which Blue Velvet made such an impression on us. The movie’s obvious “themes”—the evil flip side to picket-fence respectability, the conjunctions of sadism and sexuality and parental authority and voyeurism and cheesy ‘50s pop and Coming of Age, etc.—were for us less revelatory than the way the movie’s surrealism and dream-logic felt: the felt true, real. And the couple things just slightly but marvelously off in every shot—the Yellow Man literally dead on his feet, Frank’s unexplained gas mask, the eerie industrial thrum on the stairway outside Dorothy’s apartment, the weird dentate-vagina sculpture(47) hanging on an otherwise bare wall over Jeffrey’s bed at home, the dog drinking from the hose in the stricken dad’s hand—it wasn’t just that these touches seemed eccentrically cool or experimental or arty, but that they communicated things that felt true. Blue Velvet captured something crucial about the way the U.S. present acted on our nerve endings, something crucial that couldn’t be analyzed or reduced to a system of codes or aesthetic principles or workshop techniques.

This was what was epiphanic for us about Blue Velvet in grad school, when we saw it: the movie helped us realize that first-rate experimentalism was a way not to “transcend” or “rebel against” the truth but actually to honor it. It brought home to us—via images, the medium we were suckled on and most credulous of—that the very most important artistic communications took place at a level that not only wasn’t intellectual but wasn’t even fully conscious, that the unconscious’s true medium wasn’t verbal but imagistic, and that whether the images were Realistic or Postmodern of Expressionistic of Surreal of what-the-hell-ever was less important than whether they felt true, whether they rang psychic cherries in the communicatee.

I don’t know whether any of this makes sense. But it’s basically why David Lynch the filmmaker is important to me. I felt like he showed me something genuine and important on 3/30/86. And he couldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been thoroughly, nakedly, unpretentiously, unsophisticatedly himself, a self that communicates primarily itself—an Expressionist. Whether he is an Expressionist naively or pathologically or ultra-pomo-sophisticatedly is of little importance to me. What is important is that Blue Velvet rang cherries, and it remains for me an example of contemporary artistic heroism.

10A (w/ an epigraph)

“All of Lynch’s work can be described as emotionally infantile…Lynch likes to ride his camera into orifices (a burlap hood’s eyehole or a severed ear), to plumb the blackness beyond. There, id-deep, he fans out his deck of dirty pictures…”—Kathleen Murphy of Film Comment

One reason it’s sort of heroic tot be a contemporary Expressionist is that it all but invites people who don’t like your art to make an ad hominem move from the art to the artist. A fair number of critics(48) object to David Lynch’s movies on the grounds that they are “sick” and “dirty” or “infantile,” then proceed to claim that the movies are themselves revelatory of various deficiencies in Lynch’s own character, (49) troubles that range from developmental arrest to misogyny to sadism. It’s not just the fact that twisted people do hideous things to one another in Lynch’s films, these critics will argue, but rather the “moral attitude” implied by the way Lynch’s camera records hideous behavior. In a way, his detractors have a point. Moral atrocities in Lynch movies are never staged to elicit outrage or even disapproval. The directorial attitude when hideousness occurs seems to range between clinical neutrality and an almost voyeuristic ogling. It’s not an accident that Frank Booth, Bobby Peru, and Leland/“Bob” steal the show in Lynch’s last three films, that there is almost a tropism about our pull toward these characters, because Lynch’s camera is obsessed with them, loves them; they are his movies’ heart.

Some of the ad hominem criticism is harmless, and the director himself has to a certain extent dined out on his “Master of Weird”/“Czar of Bizarre” image, see for example Lynch making his eyes go in two different directions for the cover of Time. The claim, though, that because Lynch’s movies pass no overt “judgement” on hideousness/evil/sickness and in fact make the stuff riveting to watch, the movies are themselves a-or immoral, even evil—this is bullshit of the rankest vintage, and not just because it’s sloppy logic but because it’s symptomatic of the impoverished moral assumptions we seem not to bring to the movies we watch.

I’m going to claim that evil is what David Lynch’s movies are essentially about, and that Lynch’s explorations of human beings’ various relationships to evil are, if idiosyncratic and Expressionistic, nevertheless sensitive and insightful and true. I’m going to submit that the real “moral problem” a lot of cineastes have with Lynch is that we find his truth morally uncomfortable, and that we do not like, when watching movies, to be made uncomfortable. (Unless, of course, our discomfort is used to set up some kind of commercial catharsis—the retribution, the bloodbath, the romantic victory of the misunderstood heroine, etc.—I.e. unless the discomfort serves a conclusion that flatters the same comfortable moral certainties we came into the theater with.)

The fact is that David Lynch treats the subject of evil better than just about anybody else making movies today—better and also differently. His movies aren’t anti-moral, but they are definitely anti-formulaic. Evil-ridden though his filmic world is, please notice that responsibility for evil never in his films devolves easily onto greedy corporations or corrupt politicians or faceless serial kooks. Lynch is not interested in the devolution of responsibility, and he’s not interested in moral judgments of characters. Rather, he’s interested in the psychic spaces in which people are capable of evil. He is interested in Darkness. And Darkness, in David Lynch’s movies, always wears more than one face. Recall, for example, how Blue Velvet’s Frank Booth is both Frank Booth and “the Well-Dressed Man.” How Eraserhead’s whole postapocalyptic world of demonic conceptions and teratoid offspring and summary decapitations is evil…yet how it’s “poor” Henry Spencer who ends up a baby-killer. How in both TV’s Twin Peaks and cinema’s Fire Walk with Me, “Bob” is also Leland Palmer, how they are, “spiritually,” both two and one. The Elephant Man’s sideshow barker is evil in his exploitation of Merrick, but so too is good old kindly Dr. Treeves—and Lynch carefully has Treeves admit this aloud. And if Wild at Heart’s coherence suffered because its myriad villains seemed fuzzy and interchangeable, it was because they were all basically the same thing, I.e. they were all in the service of the same force or spirit. Characters are not themselves evil in Lynch movies—evil wears them.

This point is worth emphasizing. Lynch’s movies are not about monsters (i.e. people whose intrinsic natures are evil) but about hauntings, about evil environment, possibility, force. This helps explain Lynch’s constant deployment of noirish lighting and eerie sound-carpets and grotesque figurants: in his movies’ world, a kind of ambient spiritual antimatter hangs just overhead. It also explains why Lynch’s villains seem not merely wicked or sick but ecstatic, transported: they are, literally, possessed. Think here of Dennis Hopper’s exultant “I’LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES” in Blue Velvet, or of the incredible scene in Wild at Heart when Diane Ladd smears her face with lipstick until it’s devil-red and then screams at herself in the mirror, or of “Bob”’s look of total demonic ebullience in Fire Walk with Me when Laura discovers him at her dresser going through her diary and just about dies of fright. The bad guys in Lynch movies are always exultant, orgasmic, most fully present at their evilest moments, and this in turn is because they are not only actuated by evil but literally inspired(50): they have yielded themselves up to a Darkness way bigger than any one person. And if these villains are, at their worst moments, riveting for both the camera and the audience, it’s not because Lynch is “endorsing” or “romanticizing” evil but because he’s diagnosing it—diagnosing it without the comfortable carapace of disapproval and with an open acknowledgment of the fact that one reason why evil is so powerful is that it’s hideously vital and robust and usually impossible to look away from.

Lynch’s idea that evil is a force has unsettling implications. People can be good or bad, but forces simply are. And forces are—at least potentially—everywhere. Evil for Lynch thus moves and shifts, (51) pervades; Darkness is in everything, all the time—not “lurking below” or “lying in wait” or “hovering on the horizon”: evil is here, right now. And so are Light, love, redemption (since these phenomena are also, in Lynch’s work, forces and spirits), etc. In fact, in a Lynchian moral scheme it doesn’t make much sense to talk about either Darkness or about Light in isolation from its opposite. It’s not just that evil is “implied by” good or Darkness by Light or whatever, but that the evil stuff is contained within the good stuff too, encoded in it.

You could call this idea of evil Gnostic, or Taoist, or neo-Hegelian, but it’s also Lynchian, because what Lynch’s movies(52) are all about is creating a narrative space where this idea can be worked out in its fullest detail and to its most uncomfortable consequences.

And Lynch pays a heavy price—both critically and financially—for trying to explore worlds like this. Because we Americans like our art’s moral world to be cleanly limned and clearly demarcated, neat and tidy. In many respects it seems we need our art to be morally comfortable, and the intellectual gymnastics we’ll go through to extract a black-and-white ethics from a piece of art we like are shocking if you stop and look closely at them. For example, the supposed ethical structure Lynch is most applauded for is the “Seamy Underside” structure, the idea that dark forces roil and passions seethe beneath the green lawns and PTA potlucks of Anytown, USA.(53) American critics who like Lynch applaud his “genius for penetrating the civilized surface of everyday life to discover the strange, perverse passions beneath” and his movies are providing “the password to an inner sanctum of horror and desire” and “evocations of the malevolent forces at work beneath nostalgic constructs.”

It’s little wonder that Lynch gets accused of voyeurism: critics have to make Lynch a voyeur in order to approve something like Blue Velvet from within a conventional moral framework that has Good on top/outside and Evil below/within. The fact is that critics grotesquely misread Lynch when they see this idea of perversity “beneath” and horror “hidden” as central to his movies’ moral structure.

Interpreting Blue Velvet, for example, as a film centrally concerned with “a boy discovering corruption in the heart of a town”(54) is about as obtuse as looking at the robin perched on the Beaumonts’ windowsill at the movie’s end and ignoring the writhing beetle the robin’s got in its beak.(55) The fact is that Blue Velvet is basically a coming-of-age movie, and, while the brutal rape Jeffrey watches from Dorothy’s closet might be the movie’s most horrifying scene, the real horror in the movie surrounds discoveries that Jeffrey makes about himself—for example, the discovery that part of him is excited by what he sees Frank Booth do to Dorothy Vallens. (56) Frank’s use, during the rape, of the words “Mommy” and “Daddy,” the similarity between the gas mask Frank breathes through in extremis and the oxygen mask we’ve just seen Jeffrey’s dad wearing in the hospital—this kind of stuff isn’t there just to reinforce the Primal Scene aspect of the rape. The stuff’s also there to clearly suggest that Frank Booth is, in a certain way, Jeffrey’s “father,” that the Darkness inside Frank is also encoded in Jeffrey. Gee-whiz Jeffrey’s discovery not of dark Frank but of his own dark affinities with Frank is the engine of the movie’s anxiety. Note for example that the long and somewhat heavy angst-dream Jeffrey suffers in the film’s second act occurs not after he has watched Frank brutalize Dorothy but after he, Jeffrey, has consented to hit Dorothy during sex.

There are enough heavy clues like this to set up, for any marginally attentive viewer, what is Blue Velvet’s real climax, and its point. The climax comes unusually early,(57) near the end of the film’s second act. It’s the moment when Frank turns around to look at Jeffrey in the back seat of the car and says “You’re like me.” This moment is shot from Jeffrey’s visual perspective, so that when Frank turns around in the seat he speaks both to Jeffrey and to us. And here Jeffrey—who’s whacked Dorothy and liked it—is made exceedingly uncomfortable indeed; and so—if we recall that we too peeked through those close-vents at Frank’s feast of sexual fascism, and regarded, with critics, this scene as the film���s most riveting—are we. When Frank says “You’re like me,” Jeffrey’s response is to lunge wildly forward in the back seat and punch Frank in the nose—a brutally primal response that seems rather more typical of Frank than of Jeffrey, notice. In the film’s audience, I, to whom Frank has also just claimed kinship, have no such luxury of violent release; I pretty much just have to sit there and feel uncomfortable.(58)

And I emphatically do not like to be made uncomfortable when I go to see a movie. I like my heroes virtuous and my victims pathetic and my villains’ villainy clearly established and primly disapproved of by both plot and camera. When I go to movies that have various kinds of hideousness in them, I like to have my own fundamental difference from sadists and fascists and voyeurs and psychos and Bad People unambiguously confirmed and assured by those movies. I like to judge. I like to be allowed to root for Justice To Be Done without a slight squirmy suspicion (so prevalent and depressing in real moral life) that Justice probably wouldn’t be all that keen on certain parts of my character, either.

I don’t know whether you are like me in these regards or not…though from the characterizations and moral structures in the U.S. movies that do well at the box-office I deduce that there must be a lot of Americans who are exactly like me.

I submit that we also, as an audience, really like the idea of secret and scandalous immoralities unearthed and dragged into the light and exposed. We like this stuff because secrets’ exposure in a movie creates in us impressions of epistemological privilege, of “penetrating the civilized surface of everyday life to discover the strange, perverse passions beneath.” This isn’t surprising: knowledge is power, and we (I, anyway) like to feel powerful. But we also like the idea of “secrets,” “of malevolent forces at work beneath…” so much because we like to see confirmed our fervent hope that most bad and seamy stuff really is secret, “locked away” or “under the surface.” We hope fervently that this is so because we need to be able to believe that our own hideousnesses and Darkness are secret. Otherwise we get uncomfortable. And, as part of an audience, if a movie is structured in such a way that the distinction between surface/Light/good and secret/Dark/evil is messed with—in other words, not a structure whereby Dark Secrets are winched ex machina up to the Lit Surface to be purified by my judgement, but rather a structure in which Respectable Surfaces and Seamy Undersides are mingled, integrated, literally mixed up—I am going to be made acutely uncomfortable. And in response to my discomfort I’m going to do one of two things: I’m either going to find some way to punish the movie for making me uncomfortable, or I’m going to find a way to interpret the movie that eliminates as much of the discomfort as possible. From my survey of published work on Lynch’s films, I can assure you that just about every established professional reviewer and critic has chosen one or the other of these responses.

I know this all looks kind of abstract and general. Consider the specific example of Twin Peaks’s career. Its basic structure was the good old murder-whose-investigation-opens-a-can-of-worms formula right out of Noir 101—the search for Laura Palmer’s killer yields postmortem revelations of a double life (Laura Palmer=Homecoming Queen & Laura Palmer=Tormented Coke-Whore by Night) that mirrored the whole town’s moral schizophrenia. The show’s first season, in which the plot movement consisted mostly of more and more subsurface hideousnesses being uncovered and exposed, was a huge smash. By the second season, though, the mystery-and-investigation structure’s own logic began to compel the show to start getting more focused and explicit about who or what was actually responsible for Laura’s murder. And the more explicit Twin Peaks tried to get, the less popular the series became. The mystery’s final “resolution,” in particular, was felt by critics and audiences alike to be deeply unsatisfying. And it was. The “Bob”/Leland/Evil Owl stuff was fuzzy and not very well rendered,(59) but the really deep dissatisfaction—the one that made audiences feel screwed and betrayed and fueled the critical backlash against the idea of Lynch as Genius Auteur—was, I submit, a moral one. I submit that Laura Palmer’s exhaustively revealed “sins” required, by the moral logic of American mass entertainment, that the circumstances of her death turn out to be causally related to those sins. We as an audience have certain core certainties about sowing and reaping, and these certainties need to be affirmed and massaged.(60) When they were not, and as it became increasingly clear that they were not going to be, Twin Peaks’s ratings fell off the shelf, and critics began to bemoan this once “daring” and “imaginative” series’ decline into “self-reference” and “mannered incoherence.”

And then Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, Lynch’s theatrical “prequel” to the TV series, and his biggest box-office bomb since Dune, committed a much worse offense. It sought to transform Laura Palmer from dramatic object to dramatic subject. As a dead person, Laura’s existence on the television show had been entirely verbal, and it was fairly easy to conceive her as a schizoid black/white construct—Good by Day, Naughty by Night, etc. But the movie in which Ms. Sheryl Lee as Laura is on-screen more or less constantly, attempts to present this multivalent system of objectified personas—plaid-skirted coed/bare-breasted roadhouse slut/tormented exorcism-candidate/molested daughter—as an integrated and living whole: these different identities were all, the movie tried to claim, the same person. In Fire Walk with Me, Laura was no longer “an enigma” or “the password to an inner sanctum of horror.” She now embodied, in full view, all the Dark Secrets that on the series had been the stuff of significant glances and delicious whispers.

This transformation of Laura from object/occasion to subject/person was actually the most morally ambitious thing a Lynch movie has ever tried to do—maybe an impossible thing, given the psychological text of the series and the fact that you had to be familiar with the series to make even marginal sense of the movie—and it required complex and contradictory and probably impossible things from Ms. Lee, who in my opinion deserved an Oscar nomination just for showing up and trying.

The novelist Steve Erickson, in a 1992 review of Fire Walk with Me, is one of the few critics who gave any indication of even trying to understand what the movie was trying to do: “We always knew Laura was a wild girl, the homecoming femme fatale who was crazy for cocaine and fucked roadhouse drunks less for the money than the sheer depravity of it, but the movie is finally not so much interested in the titillation of that depravity as [in] her torment, depicted in a performance by Sheryl Lee so vixenish and demonic it’s hard to know whether it’s terrible or a de force. [But not trying too terribly hard, because now watch:] Her fit of the giggles over the body of a man whose head has just been blown off might be an act of innocence or damnation [get ready:] or both.” Or both? Of course both. This is what Lynch is about in this movie: both innocence and damnation; both sinned-against and sinning. Laura Palmer in Fire Walk with Me is both “good” and “bad,” and yet also neither: she’s complex, contradictory, real. And we hate this possibility in movies; we hate the “both” shit. “Both” comes off as sloppy characterization, muddy filmmaking, lack of focus. At any rate that’s what we criticized Fire Walk with Me’s Laura for.(61) But I submit that the real reason we criticized and disliked Lynch’s Laura’s muddy bothness is that it required of us empathetic confrontation with the exact muddy bothness in ourselves and our intimates that makes the real world of moral selves so tense and uncomfortable, a bothness we go to the movies to get a couple hours’ fucking relief from. A movie that requires that these features of ourselves and the world not be dreamed away or judges away or massaged away but acknowledged, and not just acknowledged but drawn upon in our emotional relationship to the heroine herself—this movie is going to make us feel uncomfortable, pissed off; we’re going to feel, in Premiere magazine’s own head editor’s word, “Betrayed.”

I am not suggesting that Lynch entirely succeeded at the project he set for himself in Fire Walk with Me. (He didn’t.) What I am suggesting is that the withering critical reception the movie received (this movie, whose director’s previous film had won a Palme d’Or, was booed at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival) had less to do with its failing in the project than with its attempting it at all. And I am suggesting that if Lost Highway gets similarly savaged—or, worse, ignored—by the American art-assessment machine of which Premiere magazine is a wonderful working part, you might want to keep all this in mind.

Premiere Magazine, 1995

42. (Not even the Lynch-crazy French film pundits who’ve made his movies subject of more than two dozen essays in Cahiers du Cinema— the French apparently regard Lynch as God, though the fact they also regard Jerry Lewis as God might salt the compliment a bit…) 43. (Q.v. Baron Harkonen’s “cardiac rape” of the servant boy in Dune’s first act) 44. Here’s one reason why Lynch’s characters have this weird opacity about them, a narcotized over-earnestness that’s reminiscent of lead-poisoned kids in Midwestern trailer parks. The truth is that Lynch needs his characters stolid to the point of retardation; otherwise they’d be doing all this ironic eyebrow-raising and finger-steepling about the overt symbolism of what’s going on, which is the very last thing he wants his characters doing. 45. Lynch did a one-and-a-half-gainer into this pitfall in Wild at Heart, which is one reason the movie comes off so pomo-cute, another being the ironic intertextual self-consciousness (q.v. Wizard of Oz, Fugitive Kind) that Lynch’s better Expressionist movies have mostly avoided. 46. (=Master of Fine Arts Program, which is usually a two-year thing for graduate students who want to write fiction and poetry professionally) 47. (I’m hoping now in retrospect this wasn’t something Lynch’s ex-wife did…) 48. (E.g.: Kathleen Murphy, Tom Carson, Steve Erickson, Laurent Varchaud) 49. This critical two-step, a blend of New Criticism and pop pyschology, might be termed the Unintentional Fallacy. 50. (I.e. “in-spired,”=“affected, guided, aroused by divine influence,” from the Latin inpsirare, “breathed into”) 51. It’s possible to decode Lynch’s fetish for floating/flying entities—witches on broomsticks, sprites and fairies and Good Witches, angels dangling overhead—along these lines. Likewise his use of robins=Light in BV and owl=Darkness in TP: the whole point of these animals is that they’re mobile. 52. (With the exception of Dune, in which the good and bad guys practically wear color-coded hats—but Dune wasn’t really Lynch’s film anyway) 53. This sort of interpretation informed most of the positive reviews of both Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks. 54. (Which most admiring critics did—the quotation is from a 1/90 piece on Lynch in the New York Times Magazine) 55. (Not to mention ignoring the fact that Frances Bay, as Jeffrey’s Aunt Barbara, standing right next to Jeffrey and Sandy at the window and making an icky-face at the robin and saying “Who could eat a bug?” Then—as far as I can tell, and I’ve seen the movie like eight times—proceeds to PUT A BUG IN HER MOUTH. Or at least if it’s not a bug she puts in her mouth it’s a tidbit of sufficiently buggy-looking to let you be sure Lynch means something by having her do it right after she’s criticized the robin for its diet. (Friends I’ve surveyed are evenly split on whether Aunt Barbara eats a bug in this scene—have a look for yourself.)) 56. As, to be honest, is a part of us, the audience. Excited, I mean. And Lynch clearly sets the rape scene up to be both horrifying and exciting. This is why the colors are so lush and the mise en scene is so detailed and sensual, why the camera lingers on the rape, fetishizes it: not because Lynch is sickly or naively excited by the scene but because he—like us—is humanly, complexly excited by the scene. The camera’s ogling is designed to implicate Frank and Jeffrey and the director and the audience all at the same time. 57. (Prematurely!) 58. I don’t think it’s an accident that of the grad-school friends I first say Blue Velvet with in 1986, the two who were most disturbed by the movie—the two who said they felt like either the movie was really sick or they were really sick or both they and the movie were really sick, the two who acknowledged the movie’s artistic power but declared that as God was their witness you’d never catch them sitting through that particular sickness-fest again—were both male, nor that both singled out Frank’s smiling slowly while pinching Dorothy’s nipple and looking out past Wall 4 and saying “You’re like me” as possibly the creepiest and least pleasant moment in their personal moviegoing history. 59. Worse, actually. Like most storytellers who use mystery as a structural device and not a thematic device, Lynch is way better at deepening and complicating mysteries than he is at wrapping them up. And the series’ second season showed that he was aware of this and that it was making him really nervous. By its thirtieth episode the show had degenerated into tics and shticks and mannerisms and red herrings, and part of the explanation for this was that Lynch was trying to divert our attention from the fact that he really had no idea how to wrap the central murder case up. Part of the reason I actually preferred Twin Peaks’s second season to its first was the fascinating spectacle of watching a narrative structure disintegrate and a narrative artist freeze up and try to shuck and jive when the plot reached a point where his own weaknesses as an artist were going to be exposed (just imagine the fear: this disintegration was happening on national TV). 60. This is inarguable, axiomatic. In fact what’s striking about most U.S. mystery and suspense and crime and horror films isn’t these films’ escalating violence but their enduring and fanatical allegiance to moral verities that come right out of the nursery: the virtuous heroine will not be serial-killed; the honest cop, who will not know his partner is corrupt until it’s too late to keep the partner from getting the drop on him, will nevertheless somehow turn the tables and kill the partner in a wrenching confrontation; the predator stalking the hero/hero’s family will, no matter how rational and ingenious he’s been in his stalking tactics throughout the film, nevertheless turn into a raging lunatic at the end and will mount a suicidal frontal assault; etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. The truth is that a major component of the felt suspense in contemporary U.S. suspense movies concerns how the filmmaker is going to manipulate various plot and character elements in order to engineer the required massage of our moral certainties. This is why the discomfort we feel at “suspense” movies is perceived as a pleasant discomfort. And this is why, when a filmmaker fails to wrap his product up in the appropriate verity-confirming fashion, we feel not disinterest or even offense but anger, a sense of betrayal—we feel that an unspoken but very important covenant has been violated. 61. (Not to mention for being (from various reviews) “overwrought,” “incoherent,” “too much”)

[ellalovertay]

According to my birth certificate, I turn 18 this year. It's weird because I am now a legal adult and can do legal adult things… whoa. Through 18 years of my life I've had many ups and downs, mistakes and accomplishments and laughs and tears. So as my “kid” years come to an end and my adult years pave the path ahead of me, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 18. Because it's 2020 and sharing is caring.

1

I've learned (and am still working on) accepting that it is okay not to be okay. When people ask you “how are you doing” there is nothing wrong with the response of “I'm not doing so good.” I know how hard it can be to express honesty and feel vulnerable but that’s human emotion, it's good. There is nothing wrong with not being okay, and you are allowed to experience that, it shouldn't be something that is feared. Next time you feel like that, say, “I'm not fine right now but I am going to be fine soon.”

2

I found what makes me happy. Like not just a, “Oh yeah I’m great today” kind of feeling, but a lifelong happiness feeling. I've been writing songs since I was 9 years old and in the past 6 months, songwriting has been the only thing keeping me on my feet and putting a smile on my face. Lyrics from other artists (shoutout to Taylor Swift Selena Gomez and Halsey) have always spoken and resonated deeply with me. So when things in my life started going downhill, I wrote my own lyrics. I hope one day people will experience my lyrics and they will be able to help someone like they helped me.

3

Trust is important. In any type of relationship with friends, family, pets etc, trust is key. A lot has happened in my life recently. Over the course of 6 months I've completely lost my trust in everyone and everything. I'm slowly working on building it back up again and learning how I can trust... but that is easier said than done.

4

It's okay to be confused about what's going to happen in the future. I have changed what I want my job to be at LEAST 5 times since 9th grade. Some examples include a marine biologist, a BAU member in the FBI, a criminologist, and a neurologist. Of course all of these things strike interest in me and make me happy, but I can't see myself there in 10 years. I've learned music is important to me and I want to study song/lyric writing along with vocals and music industry in college, with hopes to become a singer/songwriter.

5

Halsey has KILLER music. I knew around 3 of her songs before her album “Manic” dropped. I stayed up for release, downloaded the whole thing, listened to it and fell in love. Then tour tickets dropped, I got early access and I bought them in english class. She is really phenomenal and I love her dearly.

6

Some people in life will backstab you, others will stand by your side. But true friends will talk sh!t about the backstabbers and want to kick their asses for you. I've found that person and I'm so glad that she is in my life. And for once in my whole life, I feel like I have a best friend who won't just drop me.

7

I’ve learned you don't owe anybody an explanation. If someone asks,” How are you” and you say, “Not good” you are not entitled to state why. That is for you and your mind to know. If your best friend asks “do you want to come over/” and you say “no” Guess what… you DON'T owe them an explanation as to why! Don't ever feel pressured to explain things to people about yourself or situations you're in.

8

I'm literally a spot on Libra. My star sign is SO COOL! Up until June I never cared about my sign or horoscope, but when I found out the Libra symbol was the “Scales of Justice…” I read up on some stuff. I was SHOCKED by how much I fit my sign. Example being: we get irritated when people ask us stupid questions... Like if that isn't me then what is???

9

Being 18 means I get to vote! With everything going on in the world right now i've taken to educating myself as much as possible before november. I'm undecided (edit: not anymore😆) and excited but scared.

10

When your parents say, “Don't talk to strangers online” don't listen. I've made some of my best friends online (through Taylor, omg shocker) and I don't know what I would do without them. So here's a toast to my real friends: Vivian, Ella, Emily, Jordan, Delaney, Megan, Shannon, Sophie, Lauren, Brooke, Addison, Lexi, Hayley, Ry, Mikayla, Liv, Meghan, Rachel, Kaylee, and so many more <3

11

I've learned that everything happens for a reason. When I got confirmed, the idea that “everything happens for a reason” really stuck with me. The belief only grew stronger after I attended Kairos in November 2019. I truly believe God has a plan and everything happening in my life is going to end up being a part of some greater, master plan. God gives the hardest battles to his strongest warriors and just know that the shadows can’t last forever. Storms help the flowers flourish, and afterwards comes a rainbow.

12

My mom is a warrior.

13

Taylor Swift. That's it. That's the tweet. Very long story short I’ve listened to Taylor since fearless in 2008. Thanks mom! In 2012, when “RED” came out, I memorized lyrics and wanted concert tickets. The same thing in 2014 with “1989.” It wasn't until “reputation” in 2017 that I understood the “fandom” and became a full on swiftie. Fun fact: I have a stan account on twitter, tumblr and instagram where her management team follows me! Taylor has helped me through so many hard times. Her and her music have made me laugh, smile, cry, and dance. She is one of the only constants in my life and she treats her fans like her best friends. I have made so many friends through her that I can't wait to meet. And one day, I will meet Taylor Swift.

14

I can play instruments! I learned the ukulele when I was 12 because Tess was learning guitar. I hated it. I felt so trapped and the instructor was sooo mean. I wanted to play chords and sing Taylor Swift. Nope. He had me playing strings to old folk music. Long story short I quit.About 2 years later i picked it back up from the depths of my closet and taught myself strings. I got bored and put it away. On july 25th 2019, I picked it back up and this time, I fell in love. I quickly learned chords and by september, I was writing my own music. I thought to myself, “guitar cant be that hard” so I went and took tessa's guitar. I hated it. It was way to big and my hands were far too small. Then, a few months later I tried again. No change. Quarantine was now here and I was bored out of my mind. So… guess what I did on March 19th 2020… learned guitar and fell in love. Now, I'll play until my fingers bleed. Guitar and Ukulele make me so happy and the moral of the story is that if at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

15

Karma is real. If someone does something sh!tty to you, it will come back to bite them in the butt. Trust me.

16

I am tiny. Sadly, I'm done growing and I've been done since 8th grade. I'm forever 5 foot ½ inch- the ½ is VERY important. Also my foot size is forever a 4. Basically it sucks. I can't find any shoes that aren't pink, sparkley, have a 1 inch heel and glow up. With that being said s/o to Nordstrom rack for carrying my size.

17

I've learned to take in every moment. You never know when you won't be able to do the simplest things. Everyday we take so many things for granted. So just let every second of everyday sink in and let it resonate with you because there will never be another moment like that one.

18

I learned that I am allowed to format my own opinions. The beliefs that I have and I value don't have to be the same as everyone else's beliefs: especially my family and friends. I have come to the realization that I view situations in a different light than those around me and it's 100% okay for me to speak my mind. As a young girl I am allowed to grow up and base my social, personal and political opinions on what I believe is right and wrong, not what other people push me to believe.

[readablenoise]

Respectable Street’s 30th Anniversary Block Party The renowned venue puts together a night of chaotic good that’s as memorable as it was ambitious

West Palm Beach, FL-30th birthdays are deal of celebration. You aren’t a child anymore, nor are you quite an adult yet. You’re 30th years are interesting in the way that everything puberty seemed to have stored up and everything that waits in maturity clash with each other in a gladiator type prize fight that leads to irrevocably regrettable choices, memorable nights, drunken antics, good music and unforgettable new loves. All of which perfectly describes West Palm Beach venue Respectable Street in their 30th year of establishment. And like every good third decade celebration, the annual block party held in the venue’s name which takes up remarkably the entire Eastern end of Clematis Street, it was filled with a type of chaotic good that only the city of West Palm Beach could have successfully pulled off.

The scope of the festival was at an expanse this year, with Respectable’s having another new venue at their disposal, newly debuted Lost Weekend. A veritable man cave on the lower level with pool tables, a jukebox using traditional records with impressive choices, old school arcade games and a bar, it’s upstairs at Voltaire that holds all the mystique. The venue/loft feels like something transported out of 1980’s France or London, wirh it’s avant garde red light and curtains dripping from the ceiling as a projector plays muted clips from Kubrick films over the bands, and somehow inexplicably amidst all this there is a sushi bar, resulting in an atmosphere that feels like something from a deleted scene of “Twin Peaks”. On that high bar, Voltaire could have easily boasted all the most interesting and eclectic of new  sounds, opening with Symbols. A trio reminiscent of early New Order, along with the newfound innocence that came with their debut. Symbols have good potential, with wonderfully sculpted synth lines and a guitarist boasting a fantastic swagger but the band are still in the first infancy steps. Which doesn’t mean they should be looked over, but rather, kept in the Rolodex under to be definitely revisited.

As you walk out amidst the tents set up on the streets, even the grandest of occasions can stick with the safe bets. The main local crowd drawers and karaoke parties that the venue is primarily known for, alongside it’s theme nights. But ambition is synonymous with risk, and it’s for this that the organizers need to be commended on, as well as the careful theming of each band’s strengths.

From Voltaire to coffee shop Subculture’s alleyway venue underneath a power transformer that wasn’t just dangerous by design, but almost symbolic as fresh out of box acts played with a spark, one of the best not just to that stage but throughout the festival being Narvee of Deerfield Beach. Influenced by 90’s and 80’s shoegaze, the band consisting of Cristian Del Real, and brothers Ian and Peyton Leggoe exude professionalism that was not only refreshing but powerful. “We try to not copy or do the same chord changes.” Del Real said. “And the key to the writing, is really be as original as you can but write riffs that give you that orgasmic feeling.” The feeling isn’t lost, as the songs were well crafted off the bat for a new band. Upon the crowd asking for one more track, the band ripped into a Suicidal Tendencies cover that was nigh incredible, and produced an insatiable itch to mosh as well as for more.

That level of ambition kept throughout the festival, even entering into the main event hall, housing hometown heroes, such as Lavola and newcomers AnastasiaMax the latter of which carries with them the electricity of The White Stripes fresh out of Detroit adding to an equally impressive factor that the act are only 14 and 18 years old. Out on the patio, a New York style ethos was in the air, amidst the familiar scent of stale beer and patronage heat were the more relaxed of the bands, those that were here to please and incite good times, such as Skoros which I was disappointed to have missed.

The pitfall with having such a large festival ok a single street becomes the usual technical glitches tend to increase thricefold. In the distance, buildings on the other side of the street flickered on and off to keep up with the demand from the party over the train tracks while sound engineers scrambled to regulate every band rotation, leading to delays and sadly a confusion which bands were playing where. At one point, there came a time where you were forced to give up on checking the clock and schedule and just wander, in the truest form of festival fashion which led to hidden gems such as Boxwood which due to the time constraint were now given prime-time slots. The Fort Lauderdale native was one of the stars of the night, sculpting entire soundscapes upstairs in Voltaire against Jack Nicholson’s eerie stares in “The Shining”. Armed with a guitar, drum pad and a daunting pedal board setup, Josh Ferrer was a master at looping, perfectly integrating each riff as well as vocals. Starting barebones with just a drum beat and buiding a kingdom from it, was an incredible view and to those that caught it, was one of the highlights of the night.

And amidst the other acts of the night, from rapper Yung Tarzan to psychadelic meets Booker T in The Herns, time finally arrived for the main act of the night She Wants Revenge. It should at this point be said that West Palm Beach’s unofficial motto should be this: When all else fails, persevere. Which is something that unfortunately didn’t escape the incomparable group, the start of the set briefly hindered due to technical glitches. Despite this, the band not only remained professional throughout but treated the audience to a full and well balanced set spanning their discography, opening with 2007’s “Written In Blood” to crowd favorites such as “These Things” and “Out of Control”.

She Wants Revenge is an interesting enigma, emerging from the 00’s scene of rock renaissance, the primary duo consisting of frontman Justin Warfield and multi-instrumentalist Adam Bravin, who ventured into the territory acts such as Cold Cave, The War on Drugs and TRUST would later inhabit, before it was even thought of. Brought together by a love of music and influences, each track for a new listener is something of a treasure trove. Listen to track “Rachael” and you’ll find the song is a love letter to the Blade Runner star replicant of the same name. Take a look over at “True Romance” and you’ll hear their Bauhaus influences (who they would later co-headline a tour alongside). This veritable building block of influences is made largely from each of their respective music backgrounds, Bravin being a renowned DJ, garnering attention from everyone such as President Barack Obama to the late Prince, Warfield having a notable rap career, his original debut having the dubious honor of being released on Quincy Jones’ Qwest Records. It’s this chemistry and passion that makes She Wants Revenge so special, a black rose amidst the flower bed of rock acts and one that, despite being featured in American Horror Story and “The Number 23”, still remains a little bit of a hidden treasure. Leading into “Someone Must Get Hurt”, a shimmering and deliciously dark track, Warfield’s Bowie like presence against the rather harsh light setup were still hypnotic matched with the stellar accompaniment of guitarist Thomas Froggart and drummer Scott Ellis, making tracks such as “This is The End” sparkle even further.

As the set continued, schedules in havoc from the aforementioned technical difficulties erupted in a kind of England like fervor, the sweat of the pit mixing with failed drunk antics from a crowd that just wanted to enjoy the band which included cut up pool noodles being thrown into the air and occasionally reaching the stage, a patron falling after a failed crowd surf (which was already attempted three other times), and another trying to get on stage. Through all this, the familiar bells and red lights of the train tracks behind them suddenly sparked to life as “Maybe She’s Right” began, train horn blaring midset as the band turned perplexed at the event, which acted as an impromptu and perfect backdrop for the band, with an atmosphere that couldn’t have been more fitting though. “That’s so fucking cool.” Warfield said following the cameo. “There’s a first time for everything.” Before going into the aforementioned “Rachael”, he added “I just want to say it’s very cool to come to a place for the first time and play for people, you don’t know what you’re going to get. To walk into an outdoor festival in a setting like this and a sea of people who are digging the music, who are singing along, enjoying themselves. It’s just really nice to be here, you guys have been absolutely fantastic.” And as the night began to slips further past the nighttime hours and into that unknown nocturnal realm, Bravin Thanked the crowd for coming out, as well as local bands on the roster alongside the crew, that familiar drum beat gave way to the notorious “Tear You Apart”. As the pit became a gyrating dance floor, you can’t help but think of the outright immensity of it all. The way Respectable Street has always run, similarly perhaps the entire downtown area, has been this: if there’s a slope before the giant gorge of commercialism, if there’s a sliver of a chance to not give into the norm, take it and enjoy the ride. Throughout the venue’s 30 year career which has housed acts anywhere from Red Hot Chili Peppers to Cold Cave, it’s kept this idealogy and despite it’s occasional shortcomings, it’s this motto that’s kept not only them afloat, but the entire Palm Beach County music scene.

With that, the act began packing up as the crowd dispersed, and that odd sense of familiar gratitude from community festivals emerged from the air. It’s the tales and photographs you hear about in your favorite bands biography, those small moments born from red lit clubs or strange alleyways or outside patios where everything and nothing happens. The small moments of celebration and revelry that are irreplaceable as a band, and as a fan. That small moment that you feel for all the punks, weirdos, goths and dancers, this is the haven, the home where you can be yourself, find another or a sound. Because when all else fails, persevere. And, don’t throw pool noodles.

Words and Photography: Jenelle DeGuzman

[thebarksy]

BWW Review: Samantha Barks Brings Broadway, Bieber, and Breakups to Feinstein's/54 Below in New York Solo Debut

Friday evening at Feinstein's/54 Below was one unlike any I had experienced in quite a long time. I've been a regular at the intimate midtown venue since it opened its doors over five years ago. I feel that I've blessedly had the chance to see all of the "above the marquee" (aka top-price) talent on my bucket list. Streisand, Bernadette, Liza, Stritch, Stokes, Chenoweth, Osnes, Benanti, Salonga--- hard to top this roster when it comes to an evening of pure vocal perfection and undeniable star-power.

This past weekend, as the Isle of Man's Samantha Barks made her much-anticipated United States solo debut, I saw a performer whose presence and voice created a thrill, if not completely on par with, definitely in the same conversation as what I felt the first time I saw Lea in concert.

Discovered first by UK theatre nerds in 2008 when she came in third place on the OLIVER!casting reality show I'D DO ANYTHING, hers wasn't a name known to the international audience until she landed the plum role of Eponine in the major motion picture adaptation of LES MISERABLES. Rounding out a sizzling ensemble of film stars in the stratosphere, Barks' casting was among the last roles to be filled. Along with a still-not-quite-yet-a-sex-symbol Aaron Tveit, she was easily the least famous person among the principal players. But any good LES MIZ fan already knew from her breathtaking 25th Anniversary Concert performance that "Dear 'Ponine" was to be in good hands.

Following her hauntingly beautiful cinematic debut and numerous head-turning appearances on the red carpet, Barks has gone on to starring roles in major London productions of CITY OF ANGELS, THE LAST FIVE YEARS and HONEYMOON IN VEGAS as well as originated the title role in Berkeley Rep's world premiere of AMELIE.

Long a fan of her powerful, versatile voice, this long-awaited debut was one I was not about to miss. The mood at the venue was energetic, the crowd largely consisting of excited teenagers and Wall Street "bros" who were clearly familiar with Barks' work. She took the stage, greeted by enthusiastic applause, and opened with the pop-folk single "Troublemaker" from her 2016 self-titled solo album.

Not having heard the album or this track before, I was immediately struck by the easy tone of her voice. She didn't sound overly "musical theatre." She didn't sound like a Disney princess. If I had to find a resemblance, I'd say she sounded a bit like Taylor Swift (who was once rumored as a potential Eponine) on a very healthy day. And I mean this as a compliment to both of them. It's no secret that many of the best vocalists out there are steered into pop-country, a medium that benefits greatly from raw talent (hello Rachel Potter!) without the need for fancy auto-tuning and producer sorcery.

Introducing herself to the packed house, and making most of us feel very old, Barks mentioned that 54 Below actually played a part in her upbringing.

"I grew up on an island called the Isle of Man. We had lovely theatre, but being able to watch [YouTube videos] of 54 Below was my cool thing to do. It's where I went to see all of my favorite people, so it's very much an honor to be here tonight."

Not wasting any time, she started "at the very beginning" and delivered a sultry torch version of "As Long As He Needs Me" from OLIVER! Her voice immediately took on a smokey, age-infused quality, an impressive contrast to the younger, lighter vocals demonstrated with her opening tune.

After a pair of breezy anecdotes about her love of "Sex and the City" (complete with unsuccessful attempt at finding her inner Carrie Bradshaw), things got a little bit more country with a stunning arrangement of The Band Perry's "If I Die Young" before leading effortlessly into the riff-heavy, unconventionally anthemic "Hard to Find" from Barks' album. The great Billy Stritch manned the piano the entire evening.

Describing herself as "the ultimate Cupid, responsible now for two marriages," the charming performer recounted the story of her sister's wedding, which "manifested itself in [Barks making] the ugliest face ever" as she ugly-cried in front of friends and family. Cue seamless transition into an old favorite, "dedicated to [her] sister, for ruining her wedding." That favorite: "Summertime."

To which at least one of us in the audience endured a brief moment of, "Do we really need a new rendition of this song?" The answer, it would turn out, is absolutely. Her voice, now at once smooth and raspy, lent itself ideally to what can best be described a heartfelt, gin-soaked tribute to the countless great jazz divas to color the Gershwin classic over the decades.

Going further back into her musical memory, Barks recalled first hearing the next tune on a children's choir album as a youth. It was a seemingly personal discovery and a favorite at a young age... before being informed by her father that, indeed, "Blackbird" was by The Beatles. She followed up a lilting "Blackbird" with her deeply emotional take on Sarah McLachlan's TOY STORY tearjerker, "When He Loved Me." The song has struck a chord with me since Laura Osnes performed it at Café Carlyle in memory of her mother.

At risk of letting the tone get too serious on a Friday night, Barks asked, "Any Justin Bieber fans here tonight?" There were. And I am. There's really not much I can say about what was to follow, except that she led the house in a rousing singalong of "Love Yourself"

At this point, a gentleman in the front row felt compelled to inform Barks that the song is about Selena Gomez. Not breaking her stride, she replied, "Was it? Do you know what? Originally it was a bit ruder, wasn't it? I thought I'd keep it civilized!"

Frome one break-up song to the next, Barks slipped effortlessly back into her clarion-voiced folk-pop dialect, following up the Bieber Break with Burt Bacharach and Katy Perry's respective meditations on lost love, "This House Is Empty Now" and "The One That Got Away."

What struck me most about the evening as a whole is how completely it managed to tell a story of loss, heartbreak and healing almost entirely through song interpretation. With minimal setup and only very essential between-song banter, Barks brought us all out safely on the other side with Joni Mitchell's reverent, introspective "Both Sides Now".

In keeping with the theme (if not necessarily the style) of the evening, Barks closed out her set with yet another breakup-related song, but it was one that leaves everyone in a great mood. Having recently starred in a London production of THE LAST FIVE YEARS, the actress let us know it was time to belt. And it was here that we heard her raw, unadulterated musical theatre power as she made short work of the wildly difficult "I Can Do Better Than That." You might even describe it as fresh, undiluted and pure. It was, as a matter of fact, top of the line.

Speaking personally, Barks' New York solo debut was everything I want in an intimate evening with a top-notch talent at 54 Below. Traversing a varied terrain of genres, she demonstrated a skill set that fully supports my belief that she is one of the most essential musical theatre artists working today.

A pleasant, engaging storyteller, she was clearly enjoying herself and seemed totally at ease from the start. With flowing, succinct anecdotes, glowing smile and quirky, self-effacing humor, Barks' persona is aggressively likable. But in the end it was her powerful, versatile voice and pitch-perfect relationship with her music that steered the ship and created something quite remarkable.

From small British island to reality TV runner-up to West End regular to film star to the New York cabaret stage. We all left the room with only one question: when will it be time for Broadway?

Oh, and she did return to the stage for an encore. "I left one out," she laughed. It was "On My Own." And it was glorious.

[junker-town]

The day Chris Long gave a season of NFL checks to charity

The Eagles defensive end’s career is football, but he won't let it be his legacy.

Chris Long looks up from his phone in time to see the stoplight change from yellow to red. He slams on the brakes of his Toyota FJ Cruiser and apologizes; he’s trying to follow his GPS while looking for an Instagram video he filmed with a drone at his farm in Virginia. It’s a bird’s eye view of him and a few childhood friends blowing up a Darth Vader doll stuffed with colored powder and Tannerite, an explosive target used in rifle practice.

Long, a defensive end for the Philadelphia Eagles, is driving to the Mariana Bracetti Academy Charter School in North Philly to speak to high schoolers. Earlier this morning, he announced that he and his wife Megan are donating his last 10 game checks to three different organizations devoted to educational equality in the three cities in which he’s played football. He’s calling his new initiative “Pledge 10 for Tomorrow,” encouraging fans to give what they can, and he’ll donate an extra $50,000 to the city with the most donations.

“Ah, here it is!” he says, finding the video. “I know Tannerite isn’t good, but how cool does this look?”

He hands me his phone. It looks very cool, mesmerizing even. Long has set the video to a song by My Morning Jacket, and the soaring chords match the brilliant bursts of teals, greens, and pinks that billow out against a white blanket of snow.

“One of my buddies from high school who I do this stuff with just had a kid,” Long says, taking his phone back. “I hope it doesn’t mean he’ll stop doing dumb shit like this with me.”

I remind Long, who is 32, that he has a kid, and that having children hasn’t stopped him, nor generations of men before him, from doing dumb shit.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says, and smiles.

Long starts telling me about the other dumb shit he does. He regularly runs out of gas. He's had the car we’re in for two years and hasn't registered it. He lost his birth certificate a while ago. He was so obsessed with the movie Drive that he bought himself a ‘96 Chevy Impala, then totaled it listening to the soundtrack a day later. (He owned a replica of the scorpion jacket Gosling wore, too, but gave it to Goodwill after the crash because “the dream had died.”) Last year, he listed his former Patriots teammate Danny Amendola’s number on a fake Craigslist ad for a Suzuki Spider, then watched a bewildered Amendola field calls from people looking to buy his nonexistent motorcycle. He and William Hayes, who’s on the Dolphins now but played with Long on the Rams, once filled a teammates’ car with packing peanuts and crickets. The crickets died and it smelled terrible.

“I am incapable of not being a regular fucking moron,” Long says, laughing.

He misses the turn for the high school. He whips the car around, finds the entrance, parks, and walks by a few vans belonging to local news crews and NFL Films. The league is filming the event for some series about Players Doing Good Stuff.

This fall is the first time Long has so overtly publicized his charitable work. He founded WaterBoys in 2014 after he climbed Kilimanjaro with his then-teammate James Hall. So far the organization has funded 26 wells — 22 of which have been built in East Africa — that serve 7,000 people each. With former NFL player and Green Beret Nate Boyer, Long also leads trips of veterans up Kilimanjaro. He then founded the Chris Long Foundation in 2015.

Following the Unite the Right rally in his hometown of Charlottesville, Va., he was moved to put his arm around his teammate Malcolm Jenkins when Jenkins raised his fist during the national anthem before a preseason game. Long has continued to do so through the season, and yesterday, he and Jenkins were two of 12 players at the NFL owners fall meetings to discuss the protests. In a week, they will spend their day off after the Eagles’ Monday Night Football game against Washington at the Pennsylvania State Capitol advocating for criminal justice reform.

After his symbolic gesture, Long felt he had to publicly do something concrete. In September, he gave his first six checks to fund two scholarships at St. Anne’s-Belfield, the private high school he went to in Charlottesville (even though he and Megan had quietly funded two already, and those kids are about to head off to college). But he wanted do something “more macro,” so now he’s giving away his last 10 checks, too, forgoing an entire season’s salary. He also created the matching campaign on social media because he thinks a lot of people truly do want to help, they just don't know how. Give them a link and a pre-vetted charity, turn it into a competition, and boom: you’re raising hundreds of thousands of dollars. (As of publication, Long has raised over $205,000.)

Inside the high school, Sylvia Watts McKinney, the director of Summer Search, one of the programs Long is supporting, introduces him to the group of kids he’ll be speaking to. She reads a passage from Ralph Ellison’s essay What These Children Are Like.

“If you can show me how I can cling to that which is real to me, while teaching me a way into the larger society, then I will not only drop my defenses and my hostility, but I will sing your praises and help you to make the desert bear fruit.”

“A little bit about me,” Long says, after he thanks McKinney and takes the mic. “I’m a football player. I spent eight years in St. Louis, and we never won more than seven games in a season, which is really bad, for anyone who follows football. It was a rough time.”

He’s not using any notes, and sounds far more natural than he did recording a Pledge 10 PSA from a teleprompter this morning at the Eagles facility. The students, very few of whom are white, seem skeptical at first, but they warm up as Long tells them how the Rams never made the playoffs, how he was injured in 2014, how he was released in 2015, how he went to New England and won a Super Bowl. He thinks he can do that here with the Eagles. A few kids whoop.

Long, back row, with students from North Philly’s Mariana Bracetti Academy Charter School.

“For me as a student growing up,” Long says, switching gears, “I had everything I could ask for. Every resource was at my disposal. I went to a private school, I had tutoring, all those mentoring opportunities I needed, but I still struggled in school. I wasn’t a great student, but I also think I took it for granted. And that is something I really regret.”

Long did, and does, have everything. He’s the son of Diane and Howie Long. Howie was a famous NFL player, actor, and is now an analyst. Football is the reason Long — and his brother Kyle, who plays for the Bears, and Howie Jr., who works in player personnel for the Raiders — grew up rich and is the thing that has made him richer. It’s afforded him over 311,000 Twitter followers, given him a platform. Which, right now, he’s using to tell kids that they should value people the way people value retweets or likes on Instagram. This makes them laugh.

Then he lets it rip.

“Life is short,” he says. “Live it with joy. I really think that the biggest thing I could leave you with today is to take pleasure in the work that you do, whether in classroom or community, and enjoy it. Be that contagious light that spreads energy to other people. Great people make other people feel they can be great, too. We talk about this in the locker room as football players and leaders, how you want everyone around you to feel like they can be great for having played with you, sat in a classroom with you, been a friend of yours. Through your loyalty, your excitement, and for who you are. Be contagious in your energy.”

It’s Wednesday around noon, five hours before the event at the high school, and Long is walking into the Whole Foods next to the apartment he and Megan are renting in Philly. It’s 75 degrees out, but he’s decided it’s fall, so he’s wearing socks with Birkenstocks, thick sweatpants, a long sleeve wool shirt, and a Carhart vest.

“I call his style, ‘rich hobo,’” Green Bay Packers tight end Martellus Bennett will tell me on the phone a few days later. He played with Long in New England and the two became very close. Bennett describes their connection as “cerebral.”

“He’d walk into the locker room and I’d be like, ‘Nice jacket, but those sweats are trash, and those Birks gotta go,’” Bennett says. “But he has to wear socks because his toes are gross. I love his style, he always makes me feel okay to dress the way I dress. We both just didn’t care. He’s like a rich bum. Just look at him.”

The rich bum is currently looking at a wall of healthy-looking drinks. He picks up a Maple Water and puts it in his basket. I ask what Maple Water is. He’s not totally sure, but it’s probably just water with maple in it, and he says it’s good. I ask if he worries about getting recognized when he goes out in public.

“Nah,” he says. “I haven’t been in Philly long enough. And the great thing about being a football player is you don’t get a ton of facetime. You always have a helmet on.”

Long also grew up around fame. It’s not something new he’s had to adjust to.

“It’s too hot for the hot bar,” he says, waving his hand in the direction of the steam trays of chicken and tofu.

He then proceeds to wander up and down each aisle. I lose him at one point, which is hard to do, because he’s 6’3” and weighs 276 pounds. His arms are the size of a normal human’s neck. He has wide eyes, a square jaw, and broad, decisive shoulders. He could pass for a Viking, if Vikings had tattoos that said VIRGINIA; he has a full sleeve on one arm and a half on the other that will soon become full. Tattoos, he says, are addicting.

“He shows us as black players in the NFL that he gets it. He’s not turning a blind eye.” — Martellus Bennett

Long scoops some peanuts and raisins out of a bulk bin. If he occasionally acts like a teenager, he consistently eats like one (or at least a somewhat health conscious one). Over the next three hours, I’ll watch him eat a bowl of cereal, a protein bar, a piece of Ezekiel bread with peanut butter, a chicken breast, an entire bag of trail mix, a grapefruit, more trail mix, all of these peanuts and raisins, and another protein bar.

“He’s a total meat,” Diane will say about her son when I call her tomorrow. Long credits his parents — who’ve been involved with the Boys and Girls Club of Charlottesville for a long time — for teaching him and his brothers the importance of giving back.

“Did he clean his truck when you were there?” Diane asks.

I tell her I don’t know if he cleaned it, but that it was very neat.

“I'll tell you what,” she says. “That’s probably the one inauthentic thing you saw about him. Because usually, when you get in that truck, there’s piles of clothing and paperwork. He looks like he lives out of his car. He probably cleaned it for you.”

About an hour after the Whole Foods excursion, Long is sitting in a plush room off of the lobby of his apartment. He just called in to Ryan Russillo’s radio show, and we can’t go back upstairs because Megan doesn’t want us to wake their 18-month-old son, Waylon. We have to get out of this room, though, because the sun is beating directly in and Long is sweating through his wool shirt.

“You wanna play pool?” Long asks.

I say sure, so we head to the lobby, where there’s a pool table that no one ever uses. We’re playing best of five. Long breaks, then sinks the eight ball a few turns later. I win. I somehow manage to win the next game, too, on my own merit, which shocks both of us.

Suddenly, he realizes there's a chance he could actually lose this thing. His eyes narrow and he starts enforcing obscure rules. He wants to raise the stakes, so we bet that I have to publicize who loses in this article.

Long was the No. 2 draft pick out of UVA and a fierce competitor during his six “miserable” seasons with the Rams. He was, at one point, one of the best defensive ends in the league, but the team consistently sucked, and he suffered back-to-back, season-ending injuries in 2014 and 2015. When then-Rams coach Jeff Fisher released him, Long reached out to Bill Belichick and the Patriots. New England wasn’t the perfect schematic fit for Long in terms of defense, but he just wanted to win, so Belichick said he’d find something for him to do.

Photo by Patrick Smith/Getty Images

Chris Long won a Super Bowl during his one season with the New England Patriots.

Last season wasn’t ideal from an individual standpoint — he was only on the field for 65 percent of the snaps — but it culminated in a remarkable Super Bowl win. And it gave him some of his closest friends; he still talks often to Bennett, Devin McCourty, Julian Edelman, and Rob Ninkovich often. That team had something special.

Still, he can’t get rid of the devil on his shoulder whispering that he wasted his prime with St. Louis, a team that was once a single fake punt away from going 0-16. He decided not to resign with the Pats because, while a championship was nice, he’s still acutely aware that he won as a role player. He loved team success, but his individual ambition was still unfulfilled.

“My career’s been all over the map, and I think players struggle with what’s their legacy,” Long says. “I haven’t been a superstar, but you can still think about your average-ass legacy. What’s kept me in the game is trying to leave on my terms. This has probably happened to so many players, and I probably won’t be able to accomplish it. But I want to leave playing at a high level. And using the game. I don’t want to let the game use me.”

Long felt that the Eagle’s defense was a better fit for him, and his intuition that they’d exceed expectations has turned out to be correct. With only one loss, Philadelphia has the best record in the league as of Week 7. And while he isn’t on the field more than he was in New England — he’s playing just 45% of snaps this year — he has two sacks so far and seems happy with his role. He also knows that as an active player, he has a bigger platform to raise money and speak out than he would if he retired.

Long sinks a shot, rubs his arm. He’s still sore from the Thursday game against the Panthers, which was almost a week ago. When he was recovering from surgery in 2014, he’d sit on the sidelines and watch huge guys crash into each other, thinking, I do this? He hasn’t been diagnosed with any concussions, but he worries about how CTE manifests itself. He also knows it’s too late to reverse any damage.

“And what’s me taking a knee in response to Trump? That’s not what this is about. He can’t make me kneel or stand.” — Chris Long

“Something I worry about more than that is the void that football will leave when I’m done playing,” he says. “You’ve been doing something your whole life, and then it’s over. You’re approaching your middle age. My friends back home have settled in. When I stop playing, I’m going to be the one who’s like, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Long wins the fourth game to tie us up, 2-2. He keeps getting interrupted by the phone calls, FaceTimes, and texts from other players (including one from Edelman that just says “so tight”) as Pledge 10 gains traction.

“I think he’s one of the most genuine guys you could be around, especially off the field,” Hayes tells me. “Ninety percent of the guys you play football with, you don’t talk to after that. Chris and I haven’t played together the last couple years, but we’ve never left each other. He was my partner in crime when it came to pranks, and we both love competition. I tried to push him every day, and he did the same for me. He’s more of a brother than even a friend.”

Long breaks to start the fifth game, then goes on a roll, putting away most of his stripes for an early lead. He eyes up the cue ball, aiming for the striped No. 10, but he judges the angle wrong and sinks the eight ball again. I win.

We go back up to Long’s apartment after playing pool. Waylon has woken up, and is very busy putting wooden pieces of mail into his wooden toy mailbox. He’s a spunky kid with a mullet, which Long thinks is hilarious (he called him a young Mike Gundy on Instagram, in reference to the mulleted head coach of Oklahoma State). Megan gives Long a hard time for losing to me while she gets ready to take Waylon to the park.

Nicole Woodie, who used to run community outreach for the Rams until Long hired her to run his foundation, showed up at the apartment a few minutes ago. She sits on the couch replying to emails. Media requests have been pouring in since Pledge 10 went live.

“Someone from The Ellen Show just emailed me,” Long says, sprawled out on the coach and overflowing onto the ottoman. “They want me to come on. I’m gonna tell them no.”

“Chris, are you crazy?!” Woodie says. “You can’t turn down Ellen! Think of the moms!”

“Hmm,” Long says. “I don’t know. Would we reach people we wouldn’t reach through the sports media stuff we’re already doing?”

“Yes!” Woodie practically cries. “It's a totally different demographic! And Ellen usually does something like gives a big check. Come on, you have to do this.”

Long reluctantly agrees.

“His thing is that he’s not trying to bring attention to himself,” Bennett tells me. “He's trying to bring attention to the cause. That's noble, because a lot of people try to make it about themselves. He's trying to spread a message. He’s like, ‘Nah, I’m a part of this fight, but these [black players] are the generals. He wants to put the generals out there, guys who are more adept to talking publicly about it instead of himself."

I’ve watched Long try to do this all day. The Eagles’ PR guy asked Long this morning if he’d do SportsCenter before the upcoming Monday Night Football game against Washington.

“Nope. Put Malcolm on,” Long told him. “Put Malc up there. He’s doing great stuff in Philly.”

On Monday night, SportsCenter will run a short segment on Long anyway. But they will have to use old footage, random photos they dug up, and quotes from one of Long’s statements.

“How do you support guys like Malcolm without hijacking the situation?” Long wonders. “And then how do you interject your opinion without making it seem like you know these issues better than the people dealing with them? That’s a thin line you gotta walk.”

Bennett thinks Long is managing to walk it.

"You go through the league,” Bennett says, “and not many white players are actually saying things like Chris does. When he does, it goes bigger than just a black player saying it. He shows us as black players in the NFL that he gets it. He’s not turning a blind eye. When white players stay quiet, I’m like, I know you see the struggle, I know you see what’s going on. You play with me. We're examples of how people can get along and come from different backgrounds to work toward the same common goal. But when I speak on things that matter like this, and you turn your head, it’s like you think you can wash it away.

“Chris has always been real about it,” Bennett continues. “We'll have a conversation if he doesn’t understand something. That’s a powerful thing. And now he’s donating all of his salary to equality education? It's just like, what?!?"

Hayes appreciates Long’s involvement, too.

“When he put his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, it showed a lot,” he says. “That one little thing he did. He knew that it could possibly cause a rift or cause a lot of conversation, but Chris, he knows what’s right, and what feels right. And he’s gotta stand up for it.”

Photo by Rich Schultz/Getty Images

Eagles defensive end Chris Long embraces teammate Malcolm Jenkins on October 8, 2017, during the National Anthem.

Long hates that Trump has made the method of protest the point of contention. He thinks the national anthem is the most effective way players can draw attention to social injustice in their communities, but he’s never felt comfortable taking a knee because of the work he’s done with veterans. After Trump said that team owners should fire any player who kneels, a lot of people tweeted at Long telling him it was now his duty to do so.

“A lot of people use the knee as though it were some barometer for how much you care about these issues,” Long says. “I could take a knee and not do a thing off the field — and I’m not alluding to anybody doing this, I’m just saying — and it would be worthless. And what’s me taking a knee in response to Trump? That’s not what this is about. He can’t make me kneel or stand.”

Long picks up Waylon and gives him a raspberry on his stomach, then goes to find a shirt that doesn’t have a picture of the band The Highwaymen on it. He comes back out wearing a corduroy button-down that Megan bought him yesterday. He almost walks out the door with the tag still on.

On Wednesday night, after his speech, Long spends time with the Summer Search kids in the cafeteria. He takes pictures, posts a video to his Instagram story, and then does the requisite press conference before thanking McKinney, the director of the program. On the drive home, he talks about how jazzed he is that he got to meet some kids his donations will benefit.

“Before somebody’s president, or a hero in society, or somebody who invents something, they were sitting in a classroom,” he says. “You have no fucking clue who that person’s gonna be, who sets that whole thing in motion that alters the path of a city. Programs like this tell kids, ‘You matter. You fuckin’ matter, man.’”

I ask Long if he liked high school, and instead of answering, he asks me if I liked high school. He keeps flipping the script like this — who would I profile if I could pick five people to write about? What’s been my biggest mistake in an article? What’s been my most disastrous tweet? (All of them, I tell him.) He might be testing the waters; he’s mentioned that he might want to have a podcast, or try writing, once he retires.

He’d be good at getting people to talk; I’m five minutes into a story about the time I almost got suspended before I remember he's supposed to be telling me things like this. I ask him the question again.

No, he says after a beat, he didn’t especially like high school. He thinks he squandered it. He loves his friends from Charlottesville, but he wonders what his life would’ve been like if he hadn't gone to college in the same town he grew up in. He’s grateful for football, but wonders what it would’ve been like to find a passion off the field, something that didn't require Toradol shots to the ankle. That wouldn’t be over before he’s 35. That he’d be sure could fill the void. He never graduated from UVA and still wants to get his degree. He wishes he could've lived two different lives at once.

“I don’t know if you were like this,” he says quietly, staring ahead. “But when I turned 18, I got so sad. I was like, man, I just want it all to slow down. I kept thinking how I’d be 30 soon, how we're running out of time. I’m always thinking 12 years ahead.”

Long is motivated by an adolescent invincibility and stubbornness, but guided by an old soul’s understanding that life is short. He’s at once the teenager still doing “dumb shit,” and a grown man looking 12, 20, 50 years into the future.

It’s this duality that allows him to believe two things can be true at once. He's convinced he can still have his best season yet, but knows time is working against him. He knows about the risks of CTE and the fragility of bones and tendons, but puts his brain and joints on the line each week. He’s squirmy in the spotlight, but knows he needs it to make the biggest difference he can.

“You’re looking to catch him in the lie. And you won’t. It’s just like, why bother?” — Scott Van Pelt

The path of least resistance for Long would’ve been to retire after winning a Super Bowl and shut the hell up. Instead, he signed with a new team and dove into the thorniest political issues facing the league. And now he's doing it for free, at potentially huge physical cost.

“Charity is one of the coolest parts of being a football player,” Long had said on night before the launch of Pledge 10. “I’m really not bullshitting you, I really do care about what we do. I would totally resent the idea that I just do this shit for no reason.”

He sounded desperate to make me believe him; I could almost see his brain spinning. I asked him if he’s ever anxious.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am. And I’m trying to control the narrative in a positive way. I want to make sure I’m not misunderstood. I hate being misunderstood.”

Long has this recurring dream where he’s going to jail for life. Because no matter how hard he tries, the narrative is out of his control. Thanks to social media, he hears people who accuse him of having a white savior complex, or of being an entitled millionaire trying to stay relevant. He can see when people call him a libtard, a snowflake, unpatriotic, tell him to stick to sports. It drives him nuts when people insult his intelligence, and it’s the reason he fires back — the way he did when people criticized him for not going to the White House after the Super Bowl. Or the way he will in a few days when a conservative columnist (whose recent columns include “Hollywood has too little masculinity, not too much”) for the Bucks County Courier Times writes that Long “is a good example of the odious trend of virtue signaling.”

There will always be naysayers, so what can he do? Find a place — both on and off the field — where he can be useful, try his hardest to do what he believes is the right thing, and hope to cement a legacy he’s proud of.

“You can’t believe this guy is as good as he is,” ESPN’s Scott Van Pelt says. He’s admires Long and gave $10,000 to Pledge 10. “You’re looking for reasons for him not to be great, or good, or with his heart in the right place. You’re looking to catch him in the lie. And you won’t. It’s just like, why bother? Why not just accept that this is someone whose heart really is where it appears to be, and just be happy that exists? As opposed to trying to figure out how, or being an accountant for ways he could better. What a waste of time.”

Long’s mother says something similar.

“It almost sounds like a Disney movie,” Diane tells me. “It’s like he’s a weird, dark Disney movie. Dark because the subjects are more serious, but really, he’s just a good soul trying to do good.”

Having successfully navigated back from the high school, Long pulls up to the parking garage of his building and turns his car off in the middle of the road. I’m confused at first, but then realize the fob that opens the gate is attached to his keys. Which means he has to take them out of the ignition. He does, then waves them in front of the security pad to open the door.

“Chris,” I say, “There’s gotta be an easier way to do this.”

“Yeah,” he says grinning. “I know.”

Then he puts the key in the ignition, turns the car back on, and floors it up the ramp.

[tune-collective]

The 15 Best Gorillaz Songs

The 15 Best Gorillaz Songs

Every band has a story, but the Gorillaz are a story. We all know it’s Damon Albarn behind the mic with a rotating cast of collaborative characters, but the stellar, genre-blending electronic music is only half of the band’s greatness. Jamie Hewlett’s cartoons are rife with personality, and the foursome’s outlandish comic antics and adventures bring the project to life. They were breathing in the virtual before society realized its own cyber destiny.

Gorillaz proves that you don’t have to let experimentation and originality fall to the wayside in the name of commercial viability. You can still have songs on the radio and sell a bunch of albums even if you continuously push yourself to be strange, dark, and a little twisted. Gorillaz are virtual beings, and yet they are continuously one of the realest acts on the market.

The proof? Here are 15 of the best Gorillaz songs ever recorded.

15. Gorillaz – “Rhinestone Eyes”

This electro-funk song from Gorillaz’ third album Plastic Beach stands out for its delicious weirdness. That pumping, synthetic organ surrounded by swirling ghost voices is some kind of wonderful. It’s dark, because almost everything by the Gorillaz is dark, but it’s got a jolt of energy that makes you wanna get up and adventure, as 2D’s deadpan delivery is fabulously juxtaposed against stabbing samples.

14. Gorillaz – “Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head” feat. Dennis Hopper

This Gorillaz song features Dennis Hopper, from effing Easy Rider, reading to you the damned destiny of men who do not heed the warnings of nature. The only other song I can think of anywhere remotely similar to this is The Velvet Underground’s “The Gift,” which is equally narrative-based and disturbing. Put this one on next time you’re sitting around a campfire exchanging ghost stories.

13. Gorillaz – “Don’t Get Lost in Heaven”

Right after the demise of the Happy People in “Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head,” “Don’t Get Lost in Heaven” sweeps you into the bright lights of the afterworld. It bleeds just as seamlessly into Demon Days‘ album-ending title track This whole little closing act of the LP is quite brilliant, running beautifully on a theme with this tune as a reflective centerpiece. And who doesn’t fall victim to the charms of an angelic chorus?

12. Gorillaz – “Every Planet We Reach Is Dead”

This Demon Days deep cut has a Western feel, the crashing symbols sound like a cowboy’s heavy walk punctuated by the clinking of spurs. Albarn could be a man singing a sad song of love lost in an old saloon. The bright keys could be the dusty piano. It’s a cinematic piece that grows ever more interesting and noisy in a sweeping, chaotic build, before coming down in a sunset of strings. Nothing is resolved, and everything is as it should be.

11. Gorillaz – “Plastic Beach” feat. Mick Jones and Paul Simonon

The title track from the Gorillaz’ third studio album is a real creamy dream. Funky creaks and croaks and wonks plop here and there among the cascading keys. It’s also, essentially, a collaboration with punk all-timers The Clash, as both guitarist Mick Jones and bassist Paul Simonon grace the tune with classic cool. This is a summer song for when everything is wrong, but partying is still on the docket.

10. Gorillaz – “Rock The House” feat. Del The Funky Homosapien

’90s alt-rap great Del comes through for his second appearance on Gorillaz’ debut LP. He plays the role of drummer Russel’s dead MC friend. Russel is possessed by Del, which is really not that bad of a deal. While comments from the cartoon members of the band in faux-tobiography Rise of the Ogre reflect a certain distaste for the tune, “Rock The House” stood out on Gorillaz with its bright horn sample (courtesy of “Modesty Blaise” by John Dankworth) as one of the most fun and fanciful moments on the record.

9. Gorillaz – “Superfast Jellyfish” feat. Gruff Rhys, De La Soul

Any song that opens with a clip of a commercial is a winner in my book. De La Soul’s Trugoy grabs the baton of sarcastic capitalism and runs with it right into a bubble of cheeky fun. The bouncing beat lulls you into a false sense of happiness as you crunch on your sugar-coated mind-control bites. Slurp up the pink-and-purple swirl of milk and wash away the feeling that there might be something more meaningful at stake. There you are! You’re ready for the dance floor called life.

8. Gorillaz – “Andromeda” feat. D.R.A.M.

There’s no denying the fabulous funk of this Humanz single. It’s got an interstellar groove that boldly goes where no cartoon band has gone before. It’s a fun, seemingly innocuous song, but it’s actually very personal to Albarn. It’s named after a nightclub from his youth, and it was the only place that played soul music in the area. He tried to capture the spirit of those nights in the song. He also dedicated “Andromeda” to the mother of his longtime partne,r who recently passed. It’s an emotive dance track with highs, lows, sick synthlines; in short, everything you need in a dope dance hit.

7. Gorillaz – “Ascension” feat. Vince Staples

Sirens and Staples’ apocalytpic party-starting mark the impending dopeness that will certainly leave your ears damaged and demanding more. The off-beat melody creates images of women twerking in dirty streets as buildings crumble and people spontaneously combust. Ain’t no club like the end of the world, and when this world meets its demise, put this Gorillaz song on full blast.

6. Gorillaz – “19-2000”

If you were a nerdy kid around the turn of the Millennium, it’s highly likely you remember that night when Cartoon Network’s Toonami ran a bunch of animated music videos. It was the first taste a generation of youngsters got of Daft Punk’s Interstellar 5555, and it was also the most we’d ever seen of Gorillaz to date. This song blew my mind when I was 13 – I’d never heard anything quite so strangely, electronically funk – as did its explosive and hilarious video. It’s like a modern day Looney Tunes episode, and it helped introduce us to the characters we know and love today.

5. Gorillaz – “Tomorrow Comes Today”

This lo-fi beat comes straight from the band’s debut LP and hits you right in the soul. It’s the kind of rainy-day rhythm that turns you inside out and has you thinkin’ all deep and stuff. It’s all blues and grays — the underlying melancholy sucks you in, but you can’t help but head-bob. It’s a little sad, but it’s still a mean groove.

4. Gorillaz – “El Mañana”

This is one of those rare Gorillaz singles that isn’t a down-and-out dance tune. It’s beautifully sad, the melody of one stuck between a rosy yesterday and the far-off gleam of a better tomorrow. The music video depicts the destruction of the band’s floating island: This is the point in the story where Noodle got lost. As a single, it didn’t perform as well as its Demon Days predecessors, but as a song, it’s haunting and honest, the kind of melancholy sing-along that lives in your heart on rainy days forever.

3. Gorillaz – “DARE” feat. Shaun Ryder

This was our introduction to Noodle’s singing, brought to us via the vocal chords of Roses Gabor. 2D, a.k.a. Albarn, is on the backing track, with Happy Mondays frontman Shaun Ryder chiming in alongside him. Did you know “DARE” samples Daft Punk’s “Revolution 909” at the end? It’s a downright danceable track, though it keeps that Gorillaz’ creepiness running throughout with those slinking synths and ghostly chorus vocals. It’s got bits of disco, trip-hop, and new wave peppered throughout for a fresh take on commercial viability that doesn’t have to put brakes on experimentalism, a cornerstone of what Gorillaz are all about. It remains the band’s only U.K. number one hit. Ryder is actually saying “It’s There” on the hook, and that was the working title for the track, but the singer’s accent is so intense, they just went with it and changed the name. The music video is full of horror film references, from The Birds to The Brain That Wouldn’t Die and The Ring.

2. Gorillaz – “Clint Eastwood” feat. Del The Funky Homosapien

I remember the first time I saw this music video. I was 13. My bestie was sleeping over. She got scared. I fell in love. “Clint Eastwood” is the first rap song I knew every lyric to, and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone: This eerie, drum-driven synthetic experiment is the musical equivalent of Damon Albarn creating his Frankenstein’s monster, which might explain the zombie apes in the visual. That red Japanese letting under the logo? It’s a quote from Dawn of the Dead, and it reads “Every dead body that is not exterminated, gets up and kills. The people it kills, get up and kill.” A couple months after this tune came out, every single one of my friends had a favorite Gorillaz member. It inspired me to listen to the group’s debut every time I did my homework for about two years straight. “Clint Eastwood,” much like it’s namesake, is America at its most goddamn iconic. Nothing sounded like it before. Nothing will ever sound like it again.

1. Gorillaz – “Feel Good, Inc.” Feat. De La Soul

This tune broke the top 10 in 17 countries (and came just four spots away on the Billboard Hot 100), and it’s not hard to see why. It’s got classic Gorillaz rump-shaking buffooner, a cool hook, a cartoonish attitude, and blistering verses from De La Soul. The feature won each a Grammy for Best Pop Collaboration. “Feel Good Inc.” is actually the band’s most successful single, and it perfectly encapsulates the group’s vision. That wild laugh in the background is everything that makes Gorillaz what they are — they’re mad with genius, and the only way off their twisted carnival ride is to dance.

This article originally appeared on Billboard.

https://tunecollective.com/2017/07/18/15-best-gorillaz-songs/

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Sneak Peek: The Pact - Chapter 3

Part 3 in full should be published before Friday. Until then, here is a sneak peek of the next chapter!

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Everything Tags:

@sorenmarie87 //  @lefthologramdeer // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @his-paradox // @letsby

Supernatural Tags:

@wings-of-a-raven // @kazosa // @negans-wife // @grace-for-sale // @geeksareunique // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23  // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles  // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare

(I don’t normally tag series, but since this is an AU, I will tag specifically for this one if you don’t want to be on my SPN list. Let me know if you want to hop on any of my tag lists.)

The Pact Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose // @zombiewerewolfqueen // @silkiechicken // @collette04

A glimmer of light reflected from her dress, capturing his attention again. Though relatively short, Samuel kept drifting in and out of the ceremony as his mind wandered through a battlefield of questions and emotions.

So much about what was happening felt wrong; yet somewhere inside, he knew it wasn’t. Each passing moment, he felt the Oracle’s words burning an imprint in his brain.

“…behind the feathers, the dark, iridescent feathers, lies the match to your unburnt flame. She’ll be of great comfort to you when your grief folds you over and renders you useless…”

The meaning wasn’t quite clear to him yet, but it meant something. Whether it was that (Y/N) MacLeod was crucial to his plan against Crowley, or to his own demise, it wasn’t certain. Either way though, the nightmarish feeling of misery he lived with in his heart would be over. He’d have his revenge on Crowley, or he would be dead and in Heaven with his beloved.

Bobby continued with the promise and vows, not bothering to savor the moments as he did with any other previous ceremony. All parties involved were clearly anxious for it to be over, Samuel included. Once it was done, he could at least leave the shared space with Crowley and begin planning exactly how he would use his new wife to his advantage.

Samuel dared to look down at her then. Though the sheen of her gown was captivating, he purposely kept his eyes cast down at his hands, shoes, cane… anywhere that her curious gaze was not. He drew in a deep breath and being this close to her was able to pick up the scent of lilacs and juniper. Bobby’s words faded into the background as Samuel finally caught her gaze.

(Y/N) lifted her face up at the exact moment Sam looked down. It was also the same moment, Bobby asked them to join hands. He reluctantly held out his hand not using the cane for her to place her hand in. When she did, he was surprised to feel just how delicate her hands were. Her skin silky and warm, and her fingers held steady against his slightly trembling ones.

In stark contrast, her expression was steely and determined. She continued to meet his gaze, holding her head regally while pursing her full lips into knowing smirk. Sam couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts had set her face that way, then decided that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter because he refused to take the time to know her. She wouldn’t be alive long enough.

From within his cloak, Bobby removed the burlap chord that would be warded and tied to bound Sam’s and (Y/N)’s wrists, a symbol of their union as man and wife. That chord would be loosely tied and worn until the wedded couple reached their marriage bed to consummate the coupling. Samuel’s heart began to pound when the Maester wove it across both their wrists, securing it with an Enochian blessing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Crowley flinch at the prayer. His smug face fell away, and his jaw clenched, along with his hands. He seemed unsteady on his feet for just a moment; but enough of one for Sam to take note of. When the prayer was finished, Crowley steadied himself and straightened his shoulders.

“Can we get on with this, please?” the demon asked with a raise brow. “Some of us have other places to be.”

Bobby flashed him a look of disdain and continued with the ceremony. As he read the final passage from the Old Carver Testament, he raised both hands, placing one on each of their shoulders.

“Samuel, (Y/N), with this last gesture, I ask you to share your first kiss before the witnesses present, confirming your vows to be man and wife.”

A streak of panic washed over Sam’s face. His mouth went suddenly dry as his jaw clenched just like Crowley’s did a moment before. He looked back to (Y/N), who’s expression hadn’t altered one bit from the cool and unrattled exterior she presented before.

Sam took a step towards her, her hand still lightly held in his and leaned in. The closer he got, the more he could smell the lavender over her soap. Sam brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth, allowing only the briefest moment of contact. It wasn’t horrible, but he was glad to see she recoiled from it just as quickly as he did. It was enough, however, to satisfy the onlookers.

Bobby held both his hands out, palms up and directed his voice towards the entire room. “Forever here, joined in this place, may your lives together be long, happy, prosperous and in service to each other.”

With their wrists still bound, and no celebration to contend with, Samuel led (Y/N) from the catacombs and back up the stone stairwell. Slowly they ascended to the main floor of the castle, and that’s when he finally was able to speak to her freely.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“I supposed you’re suppose to get me pregnant,” she replied calmly, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Or, if you aren’t quite ready for that, we can say our goodnights and revisit this… problem, in the morning.”

Sam snickered. “Problem?”

“Yes, the issue of you can’t stand the sight of me, and I’m quite sure I’m meant to die in these walls.”

Her frankness caused him to choke and begin to cough. “What… what would ever give you that idea?” He tried to sound surprised, which he was, but not for the reasons she probably guessed.

(Y/N) smiled and rolled her eyes, but not in an annoyed sort of way. “Oh, you are a naïve one, aren’t you,” she tutted. “I’m a MacLeod, and you’re a Winchester. We are born to be mortal enemies, are we not?”

Sam shrugged, “I suppose.”

“So, what reason could our fathers have for putting this together other than to begin the War to end all Wars?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’ve honestly decided to let things go?” he lied. He knew the reason, and also realized that she probably did, too. (Y/N) wasn’t some stupid, naïve woman. Sheltered or not, he could tell just by the twinkle in her eyes that she knew far more than she was letting on. “Either way, I don’t think tonight is the time to figure it out.”

“No, I guess not,” she said, and for the first time, Samuel thought she actually looked nervous. “What are we to do about this?” She lifted her wrist that was bound to his.

“We go up to my chambers, untie it and figure out which side of the bed you want to sleep on. If we don’t make it look real… at least for tonight…”

“Better than getting lectured I suppose,” she relented. “Well, husband, lead the way.”

[wander---woman]

Santiago –> Lima –> Quito –> Cotopaxi –> Baños de Agua Santa –> Quito –> Bogotá –> Cartagena –> Santa Marta –> Cartagena –> Bogotá –> Mexico City –> DFW Texas

12 Jan. 2017

Here’s something that can’t be Instagrammed or Facebooked: I feel so comfortable in my own skin. On this packed van chugging along the Ecuadorian countryside, next to an artist and an actuary from Cape Town, I’m happy. This is what I love about travelling – stripped of your own cultural clothing, you’re forced to look inward, to inhabit yourself fully. Here is where my home is. I think it’s something I think we all carry with us, but we can’t always tap into it. Moments like these are all the more precious for that reason.

3:09 pm

Me: So what did you think of the waterfall?

Tom: It was a bit underwhelming, honestly. I’ve seen so many now it’s hard to be impressed. But it’s not really ever about the waterfall, is it? I like walking in the mountains and jungle and feeling the lichen and moss and everything.

Me: And getting your ass muddy.

Tom: And that. That’s it, isn’t it?

And that is it – getting outside, meeting new people, falling flat on your ass. What else is there?

Travel tip: Secret Garden Cotopaxi is worth the extra money if you find yourself in Ecuador.

I just saw snow-covered Cotopaxi in the moonlight under the stars. I was awestruck. Struck dumb with awe. I tried to take a photo, which, of course, didn’t turn out well. Somehow, the inability to capture the moment on film felt right. To recognize the ephemeral nature of one’s own existence on this planet and to be filled with gratitude is a deeply personal experience that can’t be translated or shared with others.

But I’m going to try anyway… [Cotopaxi in the early morning]

13 Jan. 2017

Hiked to Pasochoa (alt. over 4,200 mts above sea level). It was rainy and muddy and jungle-y at times, but a nice hike overall. We could see Cotopaxi from the summit. A dog who came with us from the hostel got lost, so some folks stayed up there to look for him.

A nice Canadian couple and I took turns carrying the other dog through the jungle part because he was scared.

I love people. I love how the Canadian guy spoke so humbly about his musical abilities and then played beautifully and effortlessly. I love how Tom and Patrik hiked back up a mountain to save a little dog. I love how Caitlin showed me how to play ukulele and was so happy when I got the chords right. I want to pick up some instrumental abilities, but I also want to do what they do with music, with words. If I could describe the feeling I had when I saw Cotopaxi – the neck of the moon – under the stars, it would be like finally touching the thing I’ve been grasping for for my whole life.

How do you craft accessible, poignant fiction? I don’t know yet, but I think it might be like singing in the car until you get better. I guess I’m okay with writing shit until that shit-to-decent ratio improves.

14 Jan. 2017

Blissful harmony with humanity cut short. Misanthropic cloud has appeared.

On the way to our Cotopaxi hike, the Europeans said our local guide, Carlos, was too fat to climb the volcano. They said overweight people can’t hike. Fuck that. PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SHAPES AND SIZES CAN DO ALL THE THINGS.

Turns out Carlos has been a tour guide for over 20 years and has summited the volcano countless times. He just had a bike accident and had to get 26 pins in his knee, which is why he’s slower walking at the moment. And yet he still goes to 4,800 mts altitude almost daily.

I asked Carlos what he thinks about tourism in Cotopaxi and how it affects the local community. He said it’s good to earn money and share Cotopaxi with people, but having a hostel or tour agency that belonged just to the community instead of being contracted by big businesses would be ideal. As of now, he only earns 25 % of the price the hostel charges us. This strikes me as largely unfair, given that he’s the expert. I wish I could do something to help, even as a backpacking tourist with no money.

15 Jan. 2017

“Psychology of the twenty-first century crowd: people like to capture the spectacle, own it. Call it a side effect of late capitalism, call it an attempt to stave off the ineffable transience of life.”

Is that what I am doing by taking pictures of my travels? Furthermore, is uploading photos, posting, and sharing on social media our collective attempt to stave off the transience of life? The inevitability of death?

Unrelated: Hice la wea más turistica de mi vida. I just did the most touristy thing of my life. I took one of those obnoxious tour buses blasting bachata and reggaeton that stops every 15 minutes to get people to buy things. I hated it. But I did get to see some waterfalls, like the Pailon del Diablo, the most famous one.

I hitched a ride down from La Casa del Arbol with some Ecuadorians who were super nice and we talked about everything from travel to family to work. It was nice to connect with people using Spanish. The woman’s niece, whom we met, was kidnapped and held for ransom in Venezuela. I am so fortunate to have always lived in countries where that isn’t commonplace. I feel incredibly grateful.

16 Jan. 2017

I am constantly astounded and humbled by the beauty of nature. I am so sad to be missing out on rafting and canyoning today, but I’m resting my ankle (sprained it at La Casa del Arbol) so I can go full throttle in the jungle tomorrow.

Turns out reading in a hammock under the sun for hours and talking with Jimmy (works at the hostel) wasn’t half bad. It’s given me a chance to reflect on the important things. Jimmy is 30 but looks about 20. I asked him what his secret was and he said laughing a lot and enjoying every minute of life.

My new architect friend, David, also gave me some good life tips.

Me: Tell me something about architecture.

David: When people design their own homes, they always forget to include a place where happenstance is possible, where they can just be. When you get home and take a moment to decompress and take off your jacket. An interstitial space, it’s called – where you can run into someone you haven’t seen in a while. You always need a place to just be.

Me: That’s beautiful.

David: I guess it is.

I went to buy fruit with David and we made awesome fruit salads with dragon fruit and uvillas. Then we went to the hot springs at La Virgin de Agua Santa. I liked them – I met tons of people and there was a gorgeous waterfall. David and I made guacamole and now I’m having a great conversation with some Argentinians about sexism in music and its effect on society.

17 Jan. 2017

Went to the jungle today. First we stopped at an animal rehabilitation center and saw pumas, toucans, monkeys, leopards and jaguars. Then we went in a canoe down the river into the jungle and hiked to a waterfall. Actually, before that, we went on a swing in a gorge very reminiscent of the Tarzan movie. Our guide, Gary, who is from Amazonia, gave us mud masks. The waterfall was breathtaking – and I caught a glimpse of a rainbow peeking through. I swam under it even though my ankle still hurts. After some lunch, we went to a kichwa community. A girl painted some symbols on my face (a boa) and we tried shooting traditional sedative blow darts. I was noticeably the worst – surely a sign from the universe that I’m not meant to be sedating or killing anything. I’ll stick to my plantains, thank you.

We drank the traditional chicha drink in a welcome ceremony and were encouraged to buy artisanal jewelry made from seeds collected in the jungle and beaded into necklaces and bracelets. It was fascinating (if somewhat sad) to see the effect capitalism has had on the Amazonian communities. I can only hope tourism (especially my visit) hasn’t had a negative impact on traditional cultures. But I’d be kidding myself to think otherwise. In any case, I loved hearing the kichwa language and seeing at least some traditions, even if they were only the ones sanctioned and commodified for tourists.

18 Jan. 2017

I’m on the bus from Baños to Quito. I’m looking forward to having 3 and a half hours to read and reflect on my travels thus far. Before I left the hostel, the owner and staff hugged me and took photos with me, saying they would miss me. I appreciated that. Elba made the comment that I’m going back to the US, back to reality, soon. It dawned on me that I’ll be leaving Latin America. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I’ve always been a planner, a long-term goal-oriented person. That’s worked to my advantage (academics, work), but it’s also caused me to sidestep/overlook/not take advantage of otherwise gratifying short-term opportunities that pop up on the road. What does failure look like to me? What does success look like? I think those are good starting points to work some of this out.

I went up Ichimbia and met a cool British guy and his husky on the way. Ichimbia was basically the San Cristobal of Quito. The views were nice, but paled in comparison to Cotopaxi. It made me realize I really like the campo.

Second Mercado Central run went well – red bell pepper, a ton of granadilla and pitahaya, and a weird alfalfa-guanabana juice acquired. Success.

Then I met a friendly veterinarian who lives near Vilcabamba. We navigated the public transportation together. That man sure seemed to have his shit together. Conversations like that and the one I had with Iralda from the hostel are what make traveling so worthwhile.

Flying Solo: Muddy Asses and the Overwhelming Joy of Ephemeral Existence in Ecuador Santiago --> Lima --> Quito --> Cotopaxi --> Baños de Agua Santa --> Quito --> Bogotá --> Cartagena --> Santa Marta --> Cartagena --> Bogotá --> Mexico City --> DFW Texas…