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owenshire · 4 years ago

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Robert Muhlbock (virtually) Inducts Nine Inch Nails into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 2020

Nine Inch Nails. One band, and often one man, with a computer (and guitar) against the world. Oh yes, Nine Inch Nails have added members for live performances and gained members (well, a member) for studio compositions, but from this “band-like-musical-entity’s” earliest days, it was just one person—one person who combined pop-hooks with industrial whirs, and harrowing rage with uncomfortable vulnerability. And his name is Trent Reznor.

No one should claim that Nine Inch Nails invented a genre. They didn’t. But they sure as hell popularized and perfected it. Electronic, Industrial, ‘Disco Death Metal’—whatever you want to call it, the labels don’t really matter. In fact, I think the genre should just be called “sounds like Nine Inch Nails” which is compliment enough on its own, right?

Nine Inch Nails are one of the most important, vital, inspirational, talented, and unique of musical artists. I love them. And now I’m going to tell you why…in a lengthy video essay, so settle in. And if you don’t have the fandom or attention span for what I’m about to say, go back to consuming shitty tweets and dumbfuck Instagram posts because you’re not wanted here anyway.

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My first introduction to NIN began like so many others: by catching the iconic video for “Head Like A Hole” on MTV—the band rocking out amidst electrical wires and magnetic tape, until it seemed like the entire writhing mess would consume them whole. It’s an image as potent today as it was some 30 years ago.

However, my real introduction to NIN was originally steeped in urban legend. I was in grade 10 and I heard Pretty Hate Machine played on my school bus on the way home. The owner of this cassette tape, a “cool girl” who shall remain nameless, told me that the album was “out of print” and “unavailable.” In short, she assured me that I would never be able to find a copy, but, guess what, I did.

In a trade with former MMA coach Shawn Tompkins—and in my grade 10 art class no less—I swapped two ninja stars for a box of his old cassette tapes, and Pretty Hate Machine was one of them. This was my own NINJA moment, if you will—does anyone get that reference—anyway, upon witnessing said trade some random guy in my art class immediately offered me $25 for the Pretty Hate Machine cassette tape—a king’s ransom in 1990—but of course I wouldn’t sell. I knew it was valuable—and in more than one way. Instead I played the hell out of the cassette in my Walkman. I was 14 years old. “Terrible Lie” was my favourite song from the album. And it still is.

And then—poof—like that, NIN dropped out of my life. Where’d they go? Well, I guess they were making a name for themselves during Lollapalooza 1991, white chalk dust and all. Not that I knew any of this. Pre-internet I had no idea what was going on. In fact, I wouldn’t hear any new NIN music until almost a full year later when one of my friends with a penchant for industrial music introduced me to the Broken EP. As he handed me his CD for borrowing, he warned me that it was “pretty extreme.” And he was right. The Broken EP is why album warning stickers were invented: it was a fist to the face, a kick to the face—it was even an ass to the face.

Anyway, the Broken EP was my real introduction to the seemingly bottomless rage of NIN. When I heard Broken I was just starting to get into so-called “heavy” music, but nothing could have prepared me for the lyrical and musical brutality of “Wish.” While Reznor’s litany of profanity was extreme—at least to my sheltered 16 year old ears—what truly staggered me was the song’s main riff (you know the one I mean) the one that is so distorted, so disturbing, that it sounds like a guitar being burned alive while flailing in a wind tunnel.

I’d never heard anything like it before—it wasn’t cock-rock; it wasn’t fake satanic rage done for laughs, theatre or to impress--no. Instead it was the audio embodiment of complete destruction and utter despair. And 30 years later, it’s lost none of its power.

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These same sentiments must be applied to The Downward Spiral, Nine Inch Nail’s career defining work that launched the band into mainstream success. Too often discussions of the record get bogged down by emphasis on “Hurt” or “Closer,” or, to some extent, “Heresy.”

Yes, “Hurt” is the perfect album closer and expression of pleading vulnerability, and, yes, “Closer” and “Heresy’s” choruses were brutally raw and shocking in 1994 (and, it should be said, still above average shocking in 2020), but I feel the album is best presented as a whole. This was the beginning of NIN’s discovery that (to paraphrase one rock critic) just as much tension can be generated with a whisper as with a scream.

Dynamics have always been a huge part of NIN’s’ sound, and The Downward Spiral stands as a defining moment. The album, as all of you know, begins with “Mr. Self Destruct” (well, that’s not entirely true—the album actually begins with the audio of what appears to be a man being beaten to death while submerged underwater)—but anyway, “Mr. Self Destruct” was as sonically astonishing to me as “Wish” was two years prior. As I listened to the verses of “Mr. Self Destruct” I kept asking myself “Is it supposed to sound like this? I can’t hear what he’s saying”—it was such a cacophony of meticulously detailed and layered noises, but of course not without substance or a melody: its quiet refrain of “And I control you” buried so deep in the mix, it mirrored the subconscious itself.

“Mr. Self Destruct” gives way to “Piggy”—again a haunting track that’s almost tender and such a shock in sequence given the song that preceded it. Again. Dynamics. Surprise. Making the atypical typical in the best non-traditional way. Does that make any sense? Anyway, I felt the same way about the mini-piano solo/ lyric pairing of “now doesn’t it make you feel better” before the dramatic pause in “March Of The Pigs”—I don’t think any of us saw THAT coming. I was literally shocked when that phrasing appeared out of no where, emerging like a tiny ironic rainbow out of the whirlwind of thrashing drums, crazy guitars, and “stains like blood on your teeth” screams the preceded it.

Speaking of screams, the title-track of The Downward Spiral still stands as a monument to vulnerability, despair, and pure abject horror. It’s the only song I’ve ever heard that I am afraid to listen to. When I listen to The Downward Spiral, I wait for the song the way a child hides behind a blanket awaiting glimpses of a film monster: I know it’s coming, and I know it’s going to be horrifying…and it always is. So why do I subject myself to it?

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That’s a fair question. Let’s be frank here: Nine Inch Nails isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain personality to fully appreciate the band’s complete package of black, blue, and bleeding, “but you can dance to it!” Still, NIN is more than mere nihilism and hopelessness. Those who label the band in such ways, kind of miss the point. To me, NIN has always been—lyrically at least—about catharsis: I suppose ALL music functions as such—a tool of understanding, and a mechanism for coping. Trent Reznor once commented on the vulnerability of his lyrics, saying in an interview with NPR that his topic of choice was less about vanity than it was about delivering a performance with honesty and integrity. The only topic that mattered—his emotional struggle—was the only subject he could speak about with authority and with conviction.

However, it just so happens to be a struggle that millions of other people share. When Trent Reznor sings “Now you know/ this is what it feels like” on The Fragile’s “The Wretched,” he is inviting his audience to share in his pain. Whether he intended it this way or not, his is a gesture borne or isolation but ending in comradery: many of us certainly know what “this” “feels like.” And many, many more of us can certainly relate to the words “Dear World, I can hardly recognize you anymore.”

In short, Trent Reznor’s lyrics, as personal as they are, speak for us: his fans. He speaks for me. He still does.

Interestingly, themes consistent in NIN’s best work offer a type of almost emotional ambivalence: caring, but not caring; wanting to be helped, yet rejecting help; and most importantly, wanting to be alone, yet desperately wishing to connect with others. The songs “We’re In This Together” and “The Fragile” perfectly illustrate these sentiments. To me, it is no coincidence they are sequenced side by side on the “some-critics-didn’t-like-it-at-the-time-but-have-since-come-to-their-senses-album” The Fragile.

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Musically, however, NIN is best known for three distinct styles of music: computer chaos, groovy beats, and symphonic soundscapes. I’ve touched on the first—and will return to it—but for now, let’s discuss the second. I’m not a huge fan of the term “death-disco”; however, NIN’s long list of ass-shaking beats, should not be overlooked. What began on Pretty Hate Machine with “Sin” and “The Only Time,” pleasantly resurface on “Into The Void” only to be perfected on “The Hand That Feeds,” “Only” “Capital G,” and “Discipline” not to mention a large portion of Hesitation Marks.

But back to computer chaos—or maybe just chaos in general. I can think of no better example to illustrate my point than the final coda to the song “The Great Destroyer” on the fabulous dystopian opus Year Zero—one of my favourite albums of all time: the sound of things falling apart—wires frayed, systems destroyed, screens cracked: static humming and ‘please stand by’ messages flicking forever. The Eater of Dreams. “All we ever were—just zeros and ones.”

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The final cornerstone of NIN’s musical contribution is soundscapes and instrumentals, and what a can of worms THAT is given all that’s transpired since 2011. Anyway, when The Fragile was released in 1999, more than a few fans bemoaned its inclusion of no less than 7 instrumentals, and yet these contributions have always been a signature addition to NIN’s body of work: from “pinion,” “help me I am in hell,” “a warm place,” the deeply personal “La Mer,” to Ghosts I through VI, NIN’s experiments with sound have always been integral to their songwriting process—a willingness to experiment and a love of discovery which surprisingly, yet somewhat inevitably, lead to NIN’s work in soundtracks. Beginning somewhat inadvertently with Tony Scott’s Man On Fire (look it up), and then deliberately on the video game Quake, this creative direction eventually resulted in (as we all know) various Oscar and Emmy nominations and wins for Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, and yeah, while technically not “Nine Inch Nails” releases, I think we can all agree it’s hard to separate the two sometimes because as we all know, the line begins to blur, amiright?

The point is this: Nine Inch Nails were and are no strangers to pushing boundaries musically, visually, and artistically. Some defining unconventional moments in the band’s career to me are as follows:

· The 97 one-second tracks on the Broken EP before its final two songs; the infamous Broken film itself—a movie I found on a bootlegged VHS tape and rented for a mere 1 dollar at the time—and then proceeded to wish that I never did.

· Moving on, there is of course the band’s seminal 1994 Woodstock performance, where the musicians arrived on stage in a foggy haze, caked head to toe in mud, and bringing the apocalypse with them;

· Next we have the Alternate Reality Game developed around the release of Year Zero,

· There was the free download of The Slip; and the free downloads of Ghosts V and VI some years later

· Who could also forget about the NINREMIX website where fans were invited to remix the band’s songs and post them for all to enjoy, and copyright be damned.

· Um, there was also that time they said “a heartfelt fuck you” to the Grammy’s.

· And finally we have Nine Inch Nail’s unexpected live appearance on the rather toned down Austin City Limits.

And the list goes on. Trent Reznor once explained such actions in the most self-aware terms possible: he likes pushing himself (as well as his fans) out of comfort zones, to flirt with mainstream conventions but to approach and execute them as only Nine Inch Nails can: with integrity and—to borrow Trent’s appraisal of the late David Bowie—“uncompromising vision.”

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Speaking of integrity and uncompromising vision, NIN’s humility is one of the band’s most inspiring and endearing characteristics. In Reznor’s case, we’re talking about an accomplished artist who admitted publically that he still feels he has so much to learn about his craft—that he’s barely scratched the surface regarding his mastery of sound and songwriting; a man that mocked his own starry eyed expression upon receiving an Oscar by pairing it with the caption “I see unicorns” and inviting fans to provide similar self-deprecating taglines. A man who speaks in measured tones about his opportunities and successes in his life—and does so, repeatedly I might add, quietly, humbly, and gratefully.

Such self-awareness is extremely rare in show-business let alone by a band that’s achieved as much as Nine Inch Nails.

And guess what? Here’s the thing. I think there’s no stopping them. With Nine Inch Nails—particularly, Trent and Atticus no matter what they call themselves and until they are inducted into the IHOR as solo artists, anything’s possible:

· Scoring a children’s movie? The upcoming Pixar film Soul? Why not? Let’s have some more. Give me a children’s album!

· Creating a vintage jazz ballad (the unparalleled “The Way It Used to Be”) in a week and making it indistinguishable from other songs of the era? Of course!

· Winning a Tony Award to become part of the EGOT club—I say sure. In fact, prediction: before the end of the world (so basically, in about 30 years) Nine Inch Nails will get an EGOT. There. Prove me wrong.

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In 1997 Spin Magazine once hailed Trent Reznor as “the most vital artist in music today,” while in that same year Trent Reznor appeared on Time Magazine’s list of the top 25 most influential Americans.

These accolades were well earned; however, I prefer a statement made by some music magazine critic whose name escapes me in their review of a Nine Inch Nails album whose name also escapes me: they said, “we can only hope something else pisses him off,” sentiments which I’m sure are echoed by many, and to which I reply…there seems to be no worry about that.

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Nine Inch Nails encompass a facet of popular art that is as necessary as it is compulsory: they remind us that the world is not pleasant; tragedy is inevitable; the game is rigged; faith is a lie; and everyone you know will abandon or disappoint you.

But guess what? If you’re lucky, the way out is through, motherfuckers.

I am honoured to induct Nine Inch Nails into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

#trent reznor #Robert Muhlbock #Owenshire #Nine Inch Nails #Rock and Roll Hall of Fame #Rock Hall 2020 #The Fragile #Year Zero #Pretty Hate Machine #Broken #Hesitation Marks #The Downward Spiral

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sidlyrics · 4 years ago

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WHAT’s IN? - July 2007 - Keyword Q&A

¡A partir de la letra de la canción que da título al single "Natsukoi", elegimos palabras clave e hicimos preguntas en formato preguntas y respuestas! Tenemos una serie de respuestas que desbordan con la personalidad de cada uno de los miembros, llenas de eventos recientes pero también recuerdos, historias interesantes.

♪Noche P1. ¿Qué hacías ayer por la noche? M: Flexiones. S: Me pasé una hora en un timo de bar en Kitasenju. A: Miré la luna con Shinji. Y: Dardos.

♪Llovizna P2. No tienes un paraguas pero de repente comienza a llover cuando estás en una cita. ¿Qué haces? M: Besarnos. S: Hablar sobre el amor en una cafetería hasta que pare la lluvia (congelado). A: Abrazarla. Yo me convertiré en su paraguas. Y: En primer lugar, buscar un refugio frente a la lluvia.

♪Alzar el vuelo P3. ¿Qué hizo que tu corazón alzase el vuelo últimamente? M: Alguien a quien aspiro parecerme envió flores a nuestro concierto. S: Nuestro mánager me di software de FF. A: Completé mi equipamiento de Onazuchi. Vi a NIN (Nine Inch Nails) in Japan. Y: El McDonald's de cerca de mi casa ahora está abierto 24 horas.

♪Hilo rojo P4. ¿Puede verse el "hilo rojo"? M: No se puede. S: Sí. A: Como si yo lo supiera. Y: Puedes verlo ligeramente.

♪Resfriado de verano P5. Has pillado un resfriado de verano. ¿Qué haces para recuperarte pronto? M: Solo dormir. S: Darle vueltas a un negi en torno a mi cabeza. A: Dormir. Y: Ejercicio, ¿no?

♪Llamada telefónica larga P6. ¿Cuándo fue la vez que más hablaste por teléfono? ¿Con quién fue? M: 3, 4 horas. Mi novia por aquel entonces. S: Unas 5 horas. Con mi novia de cuando era estudiante. Pero, básicamente, no me gustan las llamadas telefónicas. A: No llamo o escribo a menudo. Pero hablé con Yuuysa durante 4 horas una vez. Y: Allá en bachillerato, unas 4 horas (con mi novia de aquel entonces).

♪Aprendido por experiencia P7. ¿Una cosa qué te haga pensar "ahora soy más sensato"? M: Apostar. S: Beber mucho. A: Hacer mosh. Perdí un pendiente. Y: Jugar a las tragaperras.

♪No puedo dormir P8. ¿Qué haces cuando no puedes dormir? M: Esa cosa. S: Final fantasy. A: MonHan (Monster Hunter). Y: Seguir bebiendo.

♪Esperar en vano P9. Cuando quedas con alguien y llegan tarde, ¿cuánto tiempo puedes esperar? M: Es complicado después de una hora. S: 5 minutos. A: 1h. Y: 1 minuto. Porque se me da mal pasar el rato.

♪Comprar un CD basándose en la portada P10. ¿Hubo alguna vez en la que compraste un CD por su portada y resultó ser música que te gustó mucho? ¿Cuál fue y de quién? M: Nada en particular. S: Sí. "VANING VISION" de X Japan. A: "Elva" de Unweitten Low [Unwritten Law] Y: Nunca lo he hecho.

♪Preocuparse P11. ¿Qué es algo que te preocupa mucho últimamente? M: Cosas relacionadas con la ropa. S: El pitcher Kuwabara de las ligas menores. A: Demasiadas noticias malas. ¿No se puede hacer nada? Y: El estado de las actividades de DEEN.

♪Invitación P12. Tienes muchas ganas de salir a beber hoy, pero a tus compañeros no les apetece. Invéntate una frase que te haga pensar "¡seguramente vengan si digo esto!" M: Tengo algo importante que contaros... S: ¡Os invito! A: ¿Deberíamos volver a Gonpachi...? Y: ¿Queréis ir a por sashimi del bueno?

♪Cumpleaños P13. ¿Qué regalo de cumpleaños comprarías para tu novia? M: Un reloj y un beso. S: PS3. A: Investigaría previamente sobre lo que le gusta. Luego lo compraría. Y: Polvo de oro encontrado tras una búsqueda desesperada en las montañas.

♪Discusión P14. Por favor, cuéntanos una discusión que te haya causado una gran impresión. M: Nada en particular. S: En el parking en mitad de la noche. A: Me puse encima y le pegué a alguien delante de una comisaría... O sea, nada de nada. Y: Nada en realidad.

♪Lo siento P15. ¿Si tuvieras que "disculparte" por algo aquí? M: Hoy llegué 8 minutos tarde. Lo siento. S: Siento lo de hoy. A: Cuando Mao-san se estaba echando champú, subí la temperatura del agua. Lo siento. Y: Siento lo de hoy (Shinji).

♪Ver de nuevo P16. ¿Algo que viste que pasase dos veces últimamente? M: El peinado de Aki. S: El pitcher Kuwabara de las ligas menores. A: Un flier que decía "¡hemos superado a Mos Burger!" Y: La forma de un OVNI.

♪Un esfuerzo inútil P17. ¿Una experiencia que te haga pensar "fue todo para nada~" cuando la recuerdas? M: Los días que siguieron inmediatamente a mi mudanza a Tokyo. S: Hay una cosa. De cuando tenía más o menos 20 años. A: Nada realmente. Y: Si te refieres al ralentí que sucede después de conseguir un BIG CHANCE en una tragaperras, entonces sí.

♪Querer quedar P18. ¿Con quién tienes más ganas de quedar? M: Egashira 2:50. S: Hotei Tomoyasu. A: No es una persona, pero el perro de la casa de mi primo. Y: Amigos de mi ciudad natal.

♪Fuegos artificiales P19. ¿La mejor situación para ver los fuegos artificiales según tú? M: Los cohetes en el mar de noche con mi novia. S: Verlos en yukata, lejos de la multitud. A: Quiero ver el Festival de Fuegos Artificiales de la Bahía de Tokyo desde un helicóptero. Y: Fuegos artificiales de algún festival de fuegos artificiales, visibles a ratos desde el tejado de un edificio.

♪ Anticipación P20. ¿De qué tienes más ganas ahora? M: De saber qué pasará con los Gogouki a partir de ahora. S: El pitcher Kuwabara de las ligas menores. A: El bajo customizado de Aki de ESP. Pronto se va a terminar el prototipo. Y: La secuela de Dragon Ball.

♪Atrevido P21. ¿Un incidente que te haga pensar "qué atrevido"? M: Perdí la opción de doble oportunidad tras ganar la primera. S: Mi amigo Koeto. Es tan atrevido que no puedo contarlo. A: Me compré una chaqueta de cuero y unos vaqueros de DIESEl sin pensar. Me sorprendí después (risas). Y: El hecho de que me pasé 4 horas caminando hasta casa desde Shinnihonbashi.

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From the lyrics to the title track "Natsukoi", we picked out keywords and formed questions in Q&A; format! We have a lineup of answers overflowing with each of their personalities, full of recent happenings and also memories, interesting stories.

♪Night Q1. What were you doing last night? M: Pushups. S: Spent an hour at a rip-off of a bar in Kitasenju. A: Looked at the moon with Shinji-san. Y: Darts.

♪Drizzle Q2. You don't have an umbrella but it suddenly starts raining when you're on a date. What will you do? M: Kiss. S: Discuss love at a cafe until the rain lets up. (freezing cold) A: Hold her close. I'll become the umbrella. Y: First of all, find shelter from the rain.

♪Soar Q3. What made your heart soar most recently? M: Someone I aspire to be like sent flowers to our live. S: Our manager gave me FF software. A: Completed my set of Onazuchi equipment. Watched NIN (Nine Inch Nails) in Japan. Y: The McDonald's near my place is now open 24 hours.

♪Red thread Q4. Can the "red thread" be seen? M: Can't be seen. S: Yeah. A: Like I'd know. Y: You can see it faintly.

♪Summer cold Q5. You caught a summer cold. What will you do to recover quickly? M: Nothing but sleep. S: Wind negi around my head. A: Sleep. Y: Exercise, right!

♪Long phonecall Q6. When's the longest you ever talked on a long phonecall? Who was it with? M: 3, 4 hours. My girlfriend at that time. S: About 5 hours. With my koibito back when I was a student. But basically, I dislike phonecalls. A: I don't call or text often. But I talked to Yuuya-san for 4 hours once. Y: Back in high school, about 4 hours (my girlfriend at that time).

♪Learnt by experience Q7. What's something that makes you think "I know better now"? M: Gambling. S: Heavy drinking. A: Moshing. I lost a earring. Y: Playing slot machines.

♪Can't sleep Q8. What do you do when you can't sleep? M: That thing. S: Final Fantasy. A: MonHan (Monster Hunter). Y: Keep drinking.

♪Waiting in vain Q9. When you arrange to meet up with someone and they're late, how long a period of time can you wait? M: It gets hard to after an hour. S: 5 minutes. A: 1h. Y: 1 minute. Because I'm bad at passing time......

♪Buying a CD based on its cover Q10. Was there a time when you bought a CD judging from its jacket, and it turned out to be music you really liked? What was it and who was it by? M: Nothing in particular. S: Yes. X JAPAN's "VANING VISION" A: Unweitten Low "Elva". [Unwritten Law] Y: I have never done that before.

♪Being concerned Q11. What's something you're very concerned about lately? M: Clothes-related. S: Pitcher Kuwabara from the minor league. A: Too much bad news. Can't something be done about it. Y: The state of DEEN's activities.

♪Invitation Q12. You really want to go drinking today, but your bandmates aren't up for it. Come up with a phrase that makes you think "They'll probably come if I say this!" M: I have something important to tell you... S: I'll treat you! A: Shall we go to Gonpachi again... Y: Want to go get some good sashimi?

♪Birthday Q13. What birthday present would you get for your girlfriend? M: Watch and a kiss. S: PS3. A: Research on what she seems to like beforehand. Then buy it. Y: Gold dust found by desperately searching in the mountains.

♪Quarrel Q14. Please tell us about a quarrel that left the most impression on you. M: Nothing in particular. S: At the carpark in the middle of the night. A: Straddled and kapow'd someone in front of the police post... I mean, nothing at all. Y: Nothing really.

♪Sorry Q15. If you had to say "sorry" for one thing here? M: I was late for 8 minutes today. Sorry. S: Sorry about today. A: When Mao-san was shampooing, I turned up the heat of the water. Sry. Y: Sorry about today. (Shinji)

♪See again Q16. Something you saw happen twice recently? M: Aki's hairstyle. S: Pitcher Kuwabara from the minor league. A: A flier that said "We surpassed Mos Burger!" Y: The form of an UFO.

♪Fruitless effort Q17. An experience that makes you think "It was all for nothing~" when you remember it? M: The days that followed right after I moved to Tokyo. S: There's one. When I was about 20 years old. A: Nothing really. Y: If you mean the idle spinning that happens after hitting a BIG CHANCE game on a slot machine, then yes.

♪Want to meet Q18. Who do you want to meet most now? M: Egashira 2:50-san S: Hotei Tomoyasu-san A: It's not a person, but the dog at my cousin's home. Y: Friends from my hometown.

♪Fireworks Q19. The best fireworks viewing situation to you? M: The sea at night　Sparklers with my koibito S: Watching in a yukata, away from the crowd. A: I want to watch the Tokyo Bay Fireworks Festival from a helicopter. Y: Fireworks from some fireworks festival, visible every now and then from the rooftop of a building.

♪Anticipation Q20. What do you anticipate most now? M: What will happen to the Gogouki from now on. S: Pitcher Kuwabara from the minor league. A: The Aki-model bass from ESP. The prototype is due for completion soon. Y: The sequel to Dragon Ball.

♪Bold Q21. An incident that makes you think "That was bold"? M: Missed the double chance option after winning the first. S: My friend Koeto-kun. It's so bold I can't say it. A: Bought DIESEL's leather jacket and jeans on impulse. I was surprised later (laughs). Y: The fact that I spent 4 hours walking home from Shinnihonbashi

English: Gurakko Español: Reila

#SID #WHAT's IN?#sidlyrics #Entrevistas #Interviews #シド

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areluctantsblog · 6 years ago

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The extent of my sin

This is a scene for this headcanon (they're slightly different but enjoy anyway). The title comes from a NIN lyrics - the song has about zero things to do with the fic, but I like this line.

Tw for implied pseudo-incest, post IW grief & angst.

***

"I loved Peter," Harley says. It's the first time he speaks since it happened. Silent tears pour from his eyes as he stares across the room blindly.

"I know, baby," Tony soothes gently, putting an arm around him.

"No, you don't," Harley denies bitterly.

"I do," Tony says with such gravity that it makes Harley look up.

Tony looks back at him, endless grief in his eyes. He reaches up to cup Harley's face and wipes his tears away.

Harley flushes under his searching eyes and soft touch. It's wrong, it's all wrong, he shouldn't feel desire, not in a moment like this. He swallows hard before he speaks.

"I thought we don't talk about it," he admits.

"We shouldn't," Tony sighs, hanging his head. "There should be nothing to talk about."

"But there is," Harley says softly and when he sees Tony's face screw up in pain, he reaches out for him, making him turn back.

Letting out a shivering breath, Tony lifts his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes.

Harley repeats Tony's gesture and caresses his cheek.

"It's all right."

"Is it?"

"I don't know, but I'm not mad about it."

"Would you...?" Tony's voice breaks. "Would you tell me...?" he begins again, but he can't get the rest of the sentence out. Violent sobs seize him and he doubles over. Harley moves closer to hug him. He covers Tony with his body, pressing flush against him. He can feel Tony clutching his arm. They stay like this for long minutes before Tony manages to speak again. "How was he?"

"You know how he was," Harley answers, obstinately not hearing the true meaning of his words. He sits up and moves a bit farther, turning his gaze away. Harley can still feel Tony's eyes on him,however, as he stares at the wall. When he hears Tony sobbing, his eyes sting with tears, too. He can't look at him, but he reaches for his hand and takes it into his own, squeezing gently.

The next time he speaks is when Tony goes silent again.

"You knew?" Harley asks, both relieved that he doesn't have to hide his emotions anymore and frightened of how it will affect his relationship with Tony.

"What was there to know?" comes the reply. Tony's voice is hoarse but he sounds genuinely curious.

"If you knew, you know it," Harley says, sounding defensive despite his intentions.

"I only sensed that something changed in how you two were. It could have been many things. It was one of my guesses but I didn't know.

"Well, now you do." Harley's tone keeps betraying his feelings. Although he's not comfortable with the situation, he wants to keep talking, wants to take this step and share this with Tony.

He ventures a look at him. Tony's gaze is open and calm, despite the shadow of deep sorrow that lingers ever since he came home without Peter.

"I'm not mad about it either," Tony says, pulling their linked hands up and brushing a light kiss against Harley's knuckles.

"Fuck," Harley gasps out then lets his eyes fall shut and enjoys the sensation. Tony notices his reaction and doesn't pull away. Harley can feel his hesitation before Tony turns his hand and pulls his lips lightly along his palm, his stubby chin tickling, sending a shiver through Harley.

"Fuck you, Tony," he grunts. "Fuck you for doing this to me."

#teenker #tony stark x harley keener #harley keener x peter parker #a reluctant writes #tw: pseudo incest

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globalworship · 4 years ago

Text

Good Friday song in Malayalam (India)

The lyrics in Malayalam are in the subtitles and written below in Roman script. An English translation is below. You can also follow what is happening in the video which uses footage from the 2004 film ‘The Passion of the Christ.’

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Song : KANDAALO AALARIYUKILLA Album : KRUSHINMEL - ON THE CROSS Singer : KESTER Lyrics & Composition : ANIL ADOOR

Behind The Music Programming & Keys : BLEMIN BABU Drums/Percussion : ALEX.T.J Acoustic Guitar : SUMESH PARAMESHWAR Bass Guitar : JOSSY KOTTAYAM Flute : JOSSY ALLEPPEY

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English translation, provided by Dimple Davis:

Kandaalo Aalariyukilla (You will not be able to recognize the person) You will not be able to recognize the person There are cuts on the body like streams. There is no grace on the face. Blood is over flowing . Son, daughter it is for you to be humble/gentle. At Calvary I am suffering, My legs and hands have been pierced Son, please look, for you I am suffering. Warm blood drips drop by drop For the forgiveness of your sins Crown of thorns have been pierced on my head To rise your head above. Son, daughter it is for you to be humble/gentle. At Calvary I am suffering, My legs and hands have been pierced Son, please look, for you I am suffering. I am lying between thieves So that I can raise you My chest has been pierced So you get cured Son, daughter it is for you to be humble/gentle. At Calvary I am suffering, My legs and hands have been pierced Son, please look, for you I am suffering. In Patmos, Yohanan/John saw how bright like a sun He was I heard that voice which sounded like the roaring waters. In the beginning and in the End He is the life giver. In the beginning and in the End He is the life giver.

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Lyrics in Malayalam:

Kandalo aalariyukilla Uzhavuchaalpol Murinjeedunnu Kandalo mukhashobhayilla Chorayal niranjozhukeedunnu

Makane makale Nee maanyanayiduvan Makane makale Nee maanyayiduvan

Kalvariyil ninakkai pidanjeedunnu Kaalkarangal ninakkayi Thulaykkappettu Makane nee nokkuka Ninakkayi thakarneedunnu Makale nee nokkuka Ninakayi thakarneedunnu

Chudu chora thulliyayi Veezhunnu Nin poopam pokkuvanallayo Mullukal shirassil aazhnathum Nin shirassuyaruvan allayo

Makane makale Nee maanyanayiduvan Makane makale Nee maanyayayiduvan (Repeat Kalvariyil..)

Kallanmar naduvil kidanathu Nine uyarthuvan allayo Marvidam aazhamayi Murunjathu Saukhyam ninakkekan allayo

(Repeat Makane Makane with Kalvariyil)

Patmosil yohannan kandatho Suryanekaal shobayal athre Aashabhdam njanitha kelkunnu Peruvellam irahil polaakunnu

Aadhyanum andhyanum Jeevanum aayavane

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Watercolor on old stamp paper of India, on eBay.

0 notes

thesinglesjukebox · 7 years ago

Video

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TAYLOR SWIFT - LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO [4.39] Man, look what she made US do.

Elisabeth Sanders: Here is the thing about Taylor Swift: anybody that has truly loved (despite themselves) Taylor Swift has done so because of her sharp, frightening edges, because of the way in which she is the mean girl in the midst of a panic attack, because she's petty, because she's crazy, because she believes in things and at the same time when those things aren't as they seem wants to crush them in the palm of her hand. Any interpretation of Taylor Swift that doesn't incorporate this is simply bad research. In 2006: "Go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy--There's no time for tears / I'm just sitting here, planning my revenge." In 2010: "And my mother accused me of losing my mind /But I swore I was fine /You paint me a blue sky /And go back and turn it to rain /And I lived in your chess game /But you changed the rules every day /Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone, tonight /Well I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why" In 2012: "Maybe we got lost in translation / maybe I asked for too much / or maybe this thing was a masterpiece / til you tore it all up." And finally, in 2014, a culmination of the songwriting combined with the publicity--well, just listen to "Blank Space." I can't quote the whole thing. At the time it was brilliant, a parody that dipped just enough into the real, a joke about both media extrapolation and actual content. But we're past the time for parody. It came, it was good, it went. The criticism still followed, for other reasons, for deeper reasons, for real reasons. Along with, I'm sure, superficial ones. But if "Blank Space" was Taylor Swift's petty Gone Girl fan fiction, "Look What You Made Me Do" is the unfortunate chapter in which we have to acknowledge that the fiction was never that self-aware, and that an excavation of complication, when confronted with complicated times, sometimes reveals not a complex sympathetic maybe-villain, but simply a person not equipped to be making mass art right now. Taylor's pettiness, her villainy, her strangeness, has always been her most interesting feature. Maybe, now, too many years into seeing but not seeing it, it's just--not that interesting anymore. She's not your friend, and she's not your enemy, she's just--well. As she says, "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me." I think that might be her final truth. [3]

Stephen Eisermann: I've never been a big Taylor Swift fan -- I like her music well enough, but there was always something about the details she painted and the cards she showed that it felt a bit... made-up. Still, I always had a weird feeling that Taylor and I had very similar personalities and personal life trajectories (bear with me) and this song reinforces that. When I was younger and "straight" (16-18), I was very quiet, nice to a fault, and introverted. Thanks to my name and skin color, a lot of (racist) older people always said it was hard to believe I was a Mexican teenager because I was so quiet, polite, well-spoken and bright. Much like Swizzle during the "Taylor Swift" and "Fearless" era, I was considered naive but genuine-hearted and people loved to love my niceness. However, I soon started coming to terms with my sexuality and started being a bit more open with myself and others about who I truly was, just like we saw glimpses of pure pop and more evocative lyrics in "Speak Now" and "Red." I still built stories and a narrative that painted me as more mystery than gay, just as Taylor toed the line between squeaky clean young adult and Lolita, but I was a bit more willing to explore. Soon after, the inevitable happened and I finally had my first NSFW encounter with a man, and was even MORE willing to be who I really was. I let my gay flag fly and if people asked, I wouldn't dance around the question, but own who I was. Taylor didn't hesitate one bit when she announced 1989 would be a pop album in its entirety, and I didn't so much was stutter when telling questioning friends my realization. Still, a part of me hid things from ass-backwards family members and people who I knew wouldn't "understand," just as Sweezy continued to play the victim card to hold on to some of the innocence that was slowly falling through her fingertips like sand on the last day of vacation. However, there is only so much sand one hand can hold and BAM -- my family became aware of my sexuality and Taylor was exposed. I was at a crossroads -- do I drop my family and throw out ALL the dirty chisme I had accumulated over the years at different holidays, effectively exposing the most bigoted family members, or do I keep my mouth shut and weather the hate, being all the stronger for it? I wanted so badly to be vindictive and evil, but I choose the high road for reasons I'm not really sure I can effectively communicate. Taylor, however, has opted for the darker route. "LWYMMD" lacks detail, yes, but it's intentional. I just... I just know it. She has secrets up her sleeves she will soon reveal -- nobody willingly takes the villainous role without ammo, and Taylor has been MANY things throughout her career, but unprepared is not one of them. This song is calculated, petty, unnecessary, and very much beneath her, but it allows me to live vicariously through her and I want her to drag her detractors just as I want to drag my family members through the mud they continue to think I belong in. And just as my bigoted family members will get theirs, so will Taylor's enemies, I'm sure. [10]

Will Rivitz: "I think I have a part to play in this drama, and I have chosen to be the villain. Every good story needs a bad guy, don't you think?" -Lorelei Granger, Frindle (Andrew Clements, 1996) [9]

David Moore: Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie (Image Comics, 2015) Synopsis: Years ago, a young woman obsessed with music videos and mythic pop celebrity made a deal with the King Behind the Screen -- she gave up half of herself to gain the mystical power needed to eventually lead a coven of music obsessives. Now the deal's gone sour, and her darker, sacrificed self has switched places to destroy the coven with an ill-advised electroclash revival. [7]

Alfred Soto: Electronic swoops, piano on the bridge, lots of boom boom bap -- this single could be the new St. Vincent, or, to return to once upon a long time ago, to a track from Lorde's estimable Melodrama, a flop also largely co-written with Jack Antonoff. A skeptic of her first singles since 2009, I approached "Look..." with caution; on the evidence she's anticipated this caution. "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me," she sings while soap opera strings add the requisite melodrama, and for a moment I thought she sang "I don't trust my body." I've never cared about biographical parallels in any art, especially in popular art where the insistence feels like conscription; the blank space where she wants the audience to write his/her/whatever's name is a sop to us. Less persuasive is the talk-sung part informing her audience that the "old Taylor" is "dead," as if Fearless fans needed an 808 dug into their faces. It will sound terrific on the radio. I'll skip it when I buy the album. [5]

Crystal Leww: The emerging narrative of Jack Antonoff as the next king of pop production is perplexing because his resume is honestly pretty thin. It's unclear what Antonoff actually brings to the table other than an amplification factor; Antonoff's songs have only been as good as his collaborators. This works when artists are working with a strong vision they can execute against -- e.g., CRJ's "in love and feeling like a teen again" on "Sweetie," Lorde's earnest wide open heartbreak on Melodrama. It is damning if artists are falling into their worst habits. Taylor Swift is a very solid songwriter -- it's nearly impossible to have the kind of career she had in country music if you're not -- but it always falls back on specificity, the emotional connection that she can forge with her fans when she knows what she's trying to convey. "Look What You Made Me Do" fails because it's unclear what it's about -- is this song about haters? Kim and Kanye? Her exes? The media? -- and Antonoff using Right Said Fred makes it all seem very clunky. The song sounds like it could have really leaned into a psycho ex-girlfriend vibe, but it's not self-aware, not funny, not sure of itself. Ultimately, "Look What You Made Me Do" isn't awful, but it's not catchy, which is its worst sin of all. Taylor Swift's still a decent songwriter ("Better Man" was great; "I've been looking sad in all the nicest places" almost made up for that Zayn collab), but this isn't even yucky -- it's just kinda boring. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The curse continues. Maybe it's that the past month I've been listening to very little but "Anatomy of a Plastic Girl" by The Opiates and "Justice" by Fotonovela and Sarah Blackwood, and here's the exact conceptual midpoint. I've heard comparisons to electroclash, NIN, mall emo, Lorde, but I hear more Jessie Malakouti or Britney on Original Doll: frantic tabloid petulance, slightly updated with a "Problem" anti-chorus, but otherwise things I like. Otherwise, Swift's style has not changed: self-referential ("actress" and "bad dreams" shuffle her images to make her the heel) and threaded with subliminals ("tilted stage" is literal, "kingdom keys" keeps up with the konsonance) Just as "Dear John" parodied its subject's lite-blooz guitar, "Look What You Made Me Do" parodies the austere tracks of 808s and Heartbreak on, like "Love Lockdown" in curdled Midwestern vowels: trading soporific for loaded. The song has inevitably become about everything but itself. Her milkshake duck brought all the boys to the yard, and they're like, this is garb, and I'm like, the Internet deplorables haven't adopted this in any better faith than they did Depeche Mode; any of pop's myriad songs about the tabloids would read as "political" if transplanted into 2017 (is Lindsay Lohan's "Rumours" about FAKE NEWS?), and Swift's suffocatingly prescriptive "Southern" "values" pre-Red were as politically suspect as this, and more insidious. The next salvo of attack: its rollout being unprecedentedly gimmicky and exploitative, never mind how aforementioned Depeche Mode did the same pre-order thing, or Britney Spears upholstered-carpetbombed "Pretty Girls" in everyone's Ubers, or Rihanna's Talk That Talk was launched with gamified "missions", or Srsly Legit Band Arcade Fire spent months on fake Stereogum posts and fake Ben and Jerry's. Doesn't help that when Taylor is bad, she's stunningly, loudly bad; the second verse, in its magnification of the cringiest parts of "Shake It Off" and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," seems to last forever. (The phone call is fine, though; no one had a problem with "How Ya Doin'" or, like, "Telephone.") It's no good for catharsis, definitely not relatable, maybe on purpose: like being too sexy for your shirt, all you feel is cold. [6]

Katie Gill: On the one hand, Taylor using the language of abusers in the chorus of her song is clueless at best and worrisome at worst. On the other hand, blatantly riffing off of "I'm Too Sexy" is a surprisingly smart choice for a chorus and I'm shocked that I can't think of anyone who's tried it before with this level of success. But on the one hand, for a song about how she's getting smarter and harder, the lyrics don't reflect that, giving us some petty Regina George level nonsense instead of anything remotely resembling depth or nuance. But then again, that snake is pouring Taylor Swift some tea and all the Taylor Swifts are beating up the other Taylor Swifts in a battle royale hahaha this video is so amazingly dumb. I guess I'll split the difference and give it a [5]

Alex Clifton: I've always wanted give-no-fucks Taylor Swift, but I'm dying for context, as this album (and sing) will sink or swim based entirely on the narrative she creates. She's clearly setting herself on fire in order to rebrand herself, although I question her self-awareness. The music video indicates yes, with a brilliant 30-second scene featuring various Taylors mocking each other. Yet "Look What You Made Me Do" is also curiously passive, with a reactionary title and a bored chorus--more a sign of privilege and status. The ambiguity between honest, wronged victim and villainous persona here is intriguing, especially given Swift's penchant for earnestness; obviously she cannot be both, but the tension drives the song. The song itself is a mixed bag; Swift returns to the messy rapping last heard on "Shake It Off" with an equally cringey spoken-word interlude, but her voice is simutaneously delicate and confident as she comes out swinging. While I love seeing Blood!Swift writing a hitlist of enemies like an evil Santa Claus and the hint of confronting the less attractive/more honest parts of her role in the spotlight, only time will tell whether this is truly a playful new direction or more of the same old tune. (Also, what did we make her do? The answer is classic Swift, diabolically obvious: we made her write a song about it.) [7]

Jessica Doyle: A week on I still hear more self-loathing than anything else. Nothing the supposed New Taylor offers up comes off particularly convincingly; there's no glee in her reinvention. Compare the way she rushes through honey-I-rose-up-from-the-dead when she once sounded like she was thoroughly enjoying Boys only want love when it's torture. She doesn't sound smarter, or harder; look what you made me do, when she's spent the last eighteen months making a point of not doing anything. There's no air in here, no space beyond the multiple annotated versions and multiple thinkpieces declaring her a walking horsebitch of the Trumpocalypse. Just Taylor Swift practicing telling herself to shut up, Taylor Swift wondering about karma, Taylor Swift reading Buzzfeed and taking careful notes, Taylor Swift unable to make a point about anything at all except Taylor Swift. You don't realize, when you're in the thick of it, that self-loathing is just as relentlessly, narrowly egotistical as any other kind of self-obsession. It gets old, finally. It wears you out. It wears everybody out. Right? Yes? Can we all agree to be worn out now? Are we going to allow her to move on? She can't rise up from the dead if we don't let her die first. [3]

Cassy Gress: There was a time when I thought 1989 pajama-parties-and-kittens Taylor was the "real Taylor." I don't know if that really was. What I do know is that trying to figure out who the "real Taylor" is, and arguing on the internet about it, is fucking exhausting. So much of her musical output has been autobiographical, or meant to sound generically autobiographical to women listeners; so much of her reads as "pussycat with claws." Sometimes she emphasizes the pussycat side, soft and vulnerable; "Look What You Made Me Do" is the claws side. But Taylor, who we know has the ability to be nuanced and evocative, is here transmitting her intent (to destroy Kanye, or Katy, or Hiddleston, or her old selves, or just to be the cleverest sausage) like a hammer to the skull. This, like much else about her, is exhausting to watch/listen to. I would much rather close the blinds and put on my headphones and watch GBBO reruns in my jammies. [2]

Olivia Rafferty: Washing in with the arrival of her sixth album are a tidal wave of thinkpieces on Swift, all set within the context of her A-list feuds, miscalculations and politics, or lack thereof. We've all sifted through stories of fake boyfriends, cheap shots and oblivious colonialism, and I'm going to speak for all of us when I say we probably should just all take a goddamn break from the vortex. I'm placing LWYMMD in a vacuum for now. Reaching into the embarrassing depths of my personal history, I can draw up two different past-Olivias who would be a perfect fit for this song. I'm gifting the verse, pre-chorus and middle eight to my 10-year-old self, and the chorus to my 17-year-old self. Olivia at 10 would lap up the overly-dramatic opening lines, the "I. Don't. Likes" and their thick punctuation. It's served with the attitude that would have made you want to stick on a crop top and pick up one of your tiny handbags to fling about during an ill-prepared dance routine -- no, Mum, it's not finished yet! And the moment of absolute pre-teen glory is the cheerleader delivery of the spoken half-verse, "the world moves on another day another drama drama," I can literally see the Beanie Baby music video re-enactment. All of these melodic aspects are playful but lack the precision or maturity you'd expect Swift to deliver on this "good girl grown up" song. When the chorus hits you suddenly mature into that 17 year-old whose friends-but-not-really-friends played that Peaches song at someone's house party. You could probably embarassingly attempt a slut-drop to it in your bedroom, pretending you're a dominatrix who's just split some milk on the floor. But the overall impression is that if Swift is trying to be naughty, sexy or dangerous, she's missed the mark a little. Now at 25 I'm listening and thinking that the chorus still snaps, but if this track was an attempt at sexualising Taylor in a way that's not been done before, it's only made it clear that she's still got a lot of growing up to do. [6]

Joshua Copperman: From the first bar chimes sound effect, I was worried, and I suppose my feelings didn't improve by the time the "tilted stage" line happened. On "Out Of The Woods", Antonoff and Swift brought out the best in each other (Jack's big choruses, Taylor's specific references), but on "Look What You Made Me Do", they bring out the worst (Jack's obnoxiousness, Taylor's pettiness.) Antonoff can do flamboyant earnestness, especially when it blends with Lorde's self-awareness and quirkiness; he just can't do dark and edgy. Or even campy, apparently: the glorious video mostly takes care of that, giving the song an intensity and glamour that it doesn't have nor deserve on its own. Yet even the video often misses the humor inherent in moments like the terrible rap in the second verse, or the already-infamous lift from "I'm Too Sexy". The ultimate effect is like John Green praising a burn of himself without realizing why the burn was deserved in the first place. In this case, it's one Taylor saying to another Taylor "there she goes, playing the victim, again", even though the preceding song couldn't even play the victim or villain well enough. [4]

Mo Kim: There was a time in my life when I looked up to Taylor Swift. I was eighteen once, clearing my throat of all the doubts that haunted it, and the only way I had to express myself was through songs about slights that exploded like firecrackers. But a voice with that strength comes with responsibility. Sometimes you need to stop reveling in the volume of your own speech to see the platform of power you stand on; otherwise you might build a version of yourself on the rickety foundation of innocence only to find it crashing down. On "Look What You Made Me Do," she's still trying for the pottery shard hooks that once made her so important to petty queer kids like me. It works in bits and spurts: that second verse is a bucket of water and an emergency siren to the face, and the pre-chorus utilizes a sinister piano and eerie vocal production to great effect. Too bad, then, that the flimsy chorus and winky-face lyrics cave in on themselves more easily than almost anything she's written before (like a house of cards, some might say). That it so blatantly abjects responsibility onto her audience, however, is the biggest point against it: instead of personability, or at least the pretense of it, there's just layer after layer of metanarrative. Instead of a telling that acknowledges her history -- a complicated, troubling, rich one -- there's just Queen Bee Taylor, sneering over a landfill heap of old Taylors before she discards of all her past selves. I used to hold stadiums in my chest as I listened to the stories Swift spun; now I feel like the lights have finally crackled out, and here she is, dithering in the debris of her crumbling empire, and here we are, looking down. [5]

Josh Love: If Taylor wants to go in, that's her prerogative, but because this is a song that none of us plebes can actually relate to, it's only fair to judge it solely based on whether it goes hard, and I'm sorry to report that Taylor has no bars. "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" and "Shake It Off" seemed like wild stabs at first too, but they possessed an inclusivity that's curdled into Yeezus-level petulance here. There's nothing here to suggest she's capable of making Reputation her Lemonade. At least the video gives me some hope that maybe she realizes she's a complete dork. [3]

Anthony Easton: This is the hardest for me to grade, because I still don't know if it is good, but it is constructed in such a way that people like me (critic, liberal elitist, homosexual) are pressed to have opinions. It steals with such quickness, and with such weirdness that the opinions give birth to other opinons, somewhere between a snake hall and the ouroboros she already quotes. It sounds like Lorde, it samples Peaches, it plays with electroclash, which was a genre that was already heavily recursive. It tries to be without feeling, but it feels all too deeply. That is enough to spend time with, that is enough to unpack. It sounds like Lorde because they are both working with Jack Antonoff. Who is cribbing from who here? Is Lorde playing like Swift, is Swift cribbing Lorde's lankness, are both pulling outside of their influence, by the commercial, mainstreamed weirdness of Antonoff? Swift was always pretty; her main skill was using guile to a stiletto edge. This edges on ugliness, but it is still "ugly." Women like Peaches or the cabaret singer Bridgett Everett know how to sing, have the ambition to sing well, but chose to reject good taste for social and political power. Taylor playing with being ugly, with being flat, with kind of half singing, with no longer being the cheerleader, is not a formal refusal of beauty as a political means but has the louche boredom of a hanger-on, with maybe a bit of anger at not being cool enough. It's a capital blankness that raids and doesn't contribute. Part of the ugliness of Peaches, part of the joy of electroclash, is not only how it absorbs the amoral around it--Grace Jones, The Normal, Joy Division, Klaus Nomi--but that the sex of it works so hard. The fucking is less pleasure than hard work--the grit of dirt and sweat and bodies. When Swift quotes Peaches, she is quoting the reduction of pop to a stripping down of bodies through a formal aesthetic choice. When she quotes noir, it is an attempt to self-consciously think of herself as a body who is capable of doing real damage. Swift flatters herself as someone whose suicide could be a nihilist aesthetic gesture. She flatters herself as a fatale. She's still the kid who does damage, and plays naif. You can't be pretty and ugly. You can't be a naif fatale. You can't pretend not to care about gossip and make your career about what people think of you. You can only be so much of a feminist and rest on your producers this much, and you cannot play at louche blankness if it is so obvious how much work you are doing. This might suggest that I hate the song, but I can't. Swift doing an "ugly" heel turn fills me with poptimist longing, and I want to hear more. [9]

Eleanor Graham: There is a bit in an old Never Mind The Buzzcocks where Simon Amstell says to Amy Winehouse, "We used to be close! On Popworld, we were close." And Amy Winehouse runs her hand down his face and says, half-pityingly and to thunderous laughter, "She's dead." I don't really know why I'm bringing this up except to illustrate that a woman killing off her former self, against Joan Didion's worldly advice, has a kind of power. The crudest hyperbole. Like Amy in Gone Girl. You don't like this thing about me? You wish I was different? Well, guess what -- I'M DEAD! This line, which Swift delivers with the manic kittenish venom of Reese Witherspoon's character in Big Little Lies, is the only redeeming feature of "Look What You Made Me Do." And yet -- even as someone who has openly thrown politics to the wind in the face of such forever songs as "Style", "State of Grace" and "All Too Well" -- this single is too hallucinatory to be a flat disappointment. Quite aside from the Right Said Fred debacle, the "aw" is reminiscent of Julia Michaels, the second verse of a lobotomised Miz-Biz era Hayley Williams, the production ideas of a mid-2000s CBBC show, and the whole thing of a middle-aged man in a wig playing Sky Ferreira in an SNL skit. Disorientating. Almost euphorically horrible. Say what you want about T Swift, but who else is serving this level of pop Kafkaism in 2017? [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Weirdly, everything works for me sorta kinda with the second verse. The percussion thuds in the distance just a little more effectively, and Taylor's whining drone of a rap screams up into that high-pitched melodrama, only to crash and burn into an anemic "Push It," as written by someone who forgot Lady Gaga once could fool us into thinking she was funny. Past that subsection and prior, however, the record truly never clicks. You get the sense that Swift, someone so eagerly to seize the moment, doesn't realize that the horror campiness plays her hand too hard. [2]

Edward Okulicz: Saved from being her worst ever single by an out-of-nowhere, brilliant, Lorde-esque pre-chorus (and the existence of both "Welcome to New York" and "Bad Blood"), this is pretty thin gruel for the first single off a first album in three years. Remember how dense her songwriting used to be? See how clumsy it is on this. Taylor Swift's devolution from essential pop star to somewhat annoying head of a cult of personality is complete. At least there'll be better to come on the album. I hope. [4]

Rachel Bowles: I am guessing (and hoping) that "Look What You Made Me Do" is Reputation's "Shake It Off," a comparatively mediocre introduction to what is ostensibly a good album with some timeless songs ("Style" in particular on 1989). Functionally the same, both songs have to reintroduce Taylor in a new iteration to a cultural narrative she cannot be excluded from, both heavy on self-awareness and light on her signature musical flair. Where "Shake It Off" felt anodyne and compressed, "LWYMMD" is beautifully stripped back, chopping between lowly sung and rhythmically spoken word over a synthesiser, strings or a beat -- verses, bridges and middle 8's passing, though ultimately building to nothing -- the chorus of "LWYMMD" being the swirling void at its centre, one that cannot hold, however fashionable it is to build then strip to anti-climax in EDM and pop. What did Taylor do? The absence of her critical action, the bloody, thirsted-for revenge, can only leave us unsatisfied, like watching a Jacobean tragedy on tilted stage without the final release of death for all. What's left is a painful, public death of media citations of Taylor, played over and over, joylessly. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: 1989 is Taylor Swift's worst album, but that shouldn't necessarily be seen as a bad thing. For an artist whose vocal melodies were able to effectively drive a song forward, it was a bit odd hearing her rely so heavily on a song's instrumentation to do all the heavy lifting. Additionally, the painterly lyrics that drew me to her work in the first place were mostly abandoned for ones more beige (simply compare the most memorable lyrics from 1989 and any other album and it becomes very obvious). It didn't work out for the most part, but I was fine with the mediocrity. And considering how stylistically diverse the album was, I very much saw it as a stepping stone for a future project. Which is why I'm completely unsurprised by the doubling down of "Look What You Made Me Do" -- it's a lead single that's heavily tied to her media perception, finds her abandoning any sense of subtlety, and utilizes amelodic singing to put greater emphasis on the instrumentation itself. It's conceptually brilliant for all these reasons, but it doesn't come together all too well. Namely, the lyrics are almost laughably bad and distract from how physical the song can be, and her calculated attempts at announcing her self-awareness have reached the point of utter parody. That the music video ends with Swift essentially explaining the (unfunny) joke only confirms this. [3]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Every new Taylor Swift single is Vizzini from "The Princess Bride," letting us know that she knows that we know that she knows that we know that she is Taylor Swift, and since she knows that we know (etc. etc. etc.), she can be confident drinking the goblet in front of her, since she knows that she switched around the goblets when we weren't looking, and she's laughing like she's clearly outsmarted us, but little does she know that we've been building up an immunity to her odorless white poison for years. [2]

William John: The hyper-specificity is gone. There are no references here to paper airplane necklaces or dead roses in December or in-jokes written on notes left on doors. In their place, platitudes abound, choruses are forgotten, "time" rhymes with "time", and "drama" with "karma". The latter is pursued with a maniacal intensity, the parody spelled out rather brilliantly in "Blank Space" quickly undoing itself. Rather obviously, "Look What You Made Me Do" does not exist in a vacuum, and the timing and nature of its release are what render it particularly dismaying. Its author, not playing to her previously demonstrated strengths, is seemingly at great pains to fuel fire to certain celebrity feuds, all the while insisting on her exclusion from them. It wouldn't matter so much were she to denounce some of her new fans with the same fervour, but for some reason this era she's opted out of interviews, perhaps at the time when some explanation driven by someone outside her inner circle is most needed. It's one way to forge a reputation, indeed. I do like the way she screams "bad DREAMS!" though. [3]

Leonel Manzanares: An auteur whose entire schtick is about framing herself as a victim, now emboldened by the current climate to address "the haters" using the language of abuse, embracing villainhood. No wonder she's considered the ambassador of Breitbart Pop. [4]

Thomas Inskeep: "Don't you understand? It's your fault that I had to go and become a mean girl!" Yeah, okay, whatever, Ms. White Privilege. [2]

Anjy Ou: For the woman who singularly embodies white female privilege, it's kind of embarrassing that she doesn't have the range. [2]

Will Adams: If you had asked me three months ago, "Hey, between 'Swish Swish' and whatever Taylor Swift ends up putting out this year, which is the more embarrassing diss track?", I wouldn't have thought I'd need to think about the answer this much. [2]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: "Taylor, you're doing amazing, sweetie," said no one. [1]

Sonia Yang: With an artist as polarizing as Swift, it's easy to make the conversation a messy knot about the real life conflicts she's had, but I find it more interesting to tune that all out and focus on the simplicity of her work as a standalone. "Look What You Made Me Do" is Swift at her most coldly bitter yet, but betrays the resignation of long buried hurt. It's "Blank Space" but with none of the fantastical fun; it toes the line between wary irony and jadedly "becoming the mask." Most telling is the dull echo of the song title in place of a real hook, which is actually a favorite point of mine. Reality doesn't always go out with a bang; it's more likely for one to reach a gloomy conclusion than stumbling upon a glorious epiphany. Musically, I'd call this an awkward transition phase for Taylor -- it's not her worst song ever, but it's admittedly underwhelming compared to the heights we've seen from her. However, I've sat through questionable attempts at reinvention from my favorite artists before and I'm still optimistic about the potential for Swift's growth after this. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: There is nothing Taylor Swift does better than revenge, and this is not that. This is the first Swift single that exists only in conversation with Swift's media-created persona -- even "Blank Space" turned on internally resolved narrative beats and emotional moments -- but it offers little for those who hear pop through celebrity news updates, not speakers or headphones. Compare "Look What You Made Me Do" to "Mean," a pointed and hurt missive that scarified its targets with dangerous care; this new single, however, barely extends beyond the bounds of Swift's own skull. "I don't like your little games," levels Swift, her voice venom, "the role you made me play." The central character -- the only character -- in this narrative is Swift, and she enacts an immolation. Her nastiness is the etiolated savagery of Drake in his more recent and loutish incarnation: lonely and lordly, "just a sicko, a real sicko when you get to know me." "I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time" could be Jesse Lacey on Deja Entendu but sunk into the abyss of The Devil and God -- only it's delivered over ugly, the Knife-like electro clanging. The line that succeeds is classic Swift in its brittle theatrics: "Honey, I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time." The spoken-word bridge -- the song's most blatantly campy and deliciously gothic moment -- acts as a witchy incantation, walking most precariously the line between winking vamp and public tantrum. Swift has brought her monstrous birth to the world's light; contra the title, what it is we've made her do isn't even apparent yet. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I was 18 when "Fearless" was released, and listened to it on repeat my first term of undergrad, feeling freedom and joy and hope. I listened to "We Are Never Getting Back Together" on repeat in an on-again-off-again relationship that should have ended years before it did. I listened to 1989 over and over again after recovering from a nervous breakdown and for the first time, really, truly focused on choosing a life of joy. I should be Here For This. I am not. Pop music thrives on specificity, and Taylor Swift in particular has made a career of writing about hyperspecific situations. This is... generic; it could be sung by Katy Perry, by a female Zayn, by Kim K herself. Taylor offers no hooks to her own life here, and perhaps that's not a flaw; female songwriters have the right to choose not to expose their own lives, and to write the same generic pop song nonsense that everyone else does. But as someone who bought into the whole TSwift authenticity brand -- even while I recognized it as a brand, even while I knew that she was a multimillionaire looking out for her own interests first and foremost, even as she was the definition of a Problematic Fav -- I can't really say I care that much about new Taylor. I could fault Taylor's politics and personality -- and I'm sure other blurbs will -- but the primary failing here isn't Taylor's non-music life. It's that there's no feeling here; it feels as cynical as the line "another day, another drama". Next. [4]

Andy Hutchins: "I'm Too Sexy" + "Mr. Me Too" - basically any of the elements that made "Mr. Me Too" compelling = "Ms. I'm Sexy, Too." [4]

Tara Hillegeist: Let's leave this double-edged sword hang here for a minute: Taylor Swift's personhood is irrelevant to the reality that she is a better creator than she ever gets credit for. Since her earliest days of the demo CDs she'd like to keep buried, Taylor Swift has never been less interesting or more terrible on the ears than when her songs are forcibly positioned as autobiography. For a decade she has cultivated an audience of lovers and haters alike that never felt her--or truly felt for her--because she never wanted them to know her, driven to own her brand even as she's deliberately averred to own up to what lies behind it. Witness the framing of an Etch-a-Sketch of a song like "Look What You Made Me Do": she releases a song about vengeful self-definition mere weeks after finally winning a years-long case against a man who sexually assaulted her and tried to sue her to silence over it on the sheer strength of her own self-representation, and the air charges itself with intimations that she instead meant it for Katy Perry, whose flash-in-the-pan "friendship" she publicly and memorably disowned in a bad song about bad blood an entire album ago, or perhaps Kim Kardashian-West, a woman whose "feud" with her arguably began with Taylor Swift's attempt to paint herself as the victim in an argument with Kim's husband but ended inarguably and decisively in Kim's favor. To claim someone would mangle her targets so ineptly even the conspiracy theorists have to resort to half-guesses and deliberate misquotes to draw out the barbs is a claim it's especially ridiculous to pin on a musician like Taylor Swift, a control freak who once built a labyrinth of personal references into an album full of songs about protagonists nothing like herself just to prove a point to anyone listening to them that closely about how sturdy the songs would be without knowing any of it. A public conversation that misses the point this drastically can only occur if there's a deliberately blank space where any sense of or interest in the person it's about could exist. There is a hole where this most powerfully self-determining popstar lives where a human life has never been glimpsed--because she cast that little girl and her frail voice aside years ago in search of something altogether more influential than such a weak vessel could ever hold. The girl who cajoled her family into spending enough Merrill-Lynch money to cover for her inability to sing until she had enough professional training to sing the songs she wanted to put to her name was never the girl who could truly be a flight risk with a fear of falling, was never the girl who never did anything better than revenge. But she wanted to be the girl who sang the words for that girl, who put her words in that girl's mouth, more than anything else in the world. She staked her name on nothing less than her ability to capitalize on the reputation she acquired. The Taylor Swift of Fearless and Speak Now was a Taylor Swift who believed she could be someone else in your mind, a songwriter dexterous enough to slip between gothic pop, americana-infused new wave, and pop-punk piss-offs without shaking that crisply machine-tooled Pennsylvania diction. A decade on, she's learned a lesson enough women before her already learned it's shocking she wasn't ready for it: when you're a girl and you make something about being a girl, everyone thinks you just had yourself in mind. The proof that she was more than that--more than the songs on the radio, you might say--was always there; it wasn't hidden, it wasn't obscured. But from Red onwards that Taylor began to die; a straighter Taylor Swift emerged in more ways than just her hair, all the kinks ironing themselves out in favor of her remodeling herself into a different sort of someone else's voice. Where once stood a Taylor Swift who sang for the sake of seeing her words sung by someone else's mouth back to her, there now stood a Taylor Swift who sang everyone else's words about her back to them. Tabloids cannot resurrect a life that a woman never lived, and no amount of retrospective sleight of hand about the girl she might have lied about being can hide the truth that neither can she. Conspiracy theories only flourish when people treat the mystery of human motives like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved--ignoring that she already made it clear that was, still and always, the wrong answer to the questions she wouldn't let them ask. She wanted fame, she wanted a reputation; she wanted them on terms she defined; she never wanted anything else half as much as she wanted that. She has used every means available to her to earn them. Her awkward adolescence took a backseat to her life's dream of conquering America's radio. It's no shock, then, that all this gossip-mongering rings as hollow as a crown. The messy melodrama of Southern sympathy and thin-voiced warbles that defined the sweethearted ladygirls of generations before her and beside her and will define those that come after her, the sloppy humanities of Britney and Dolly and Tammy and Leann and Kesha Rose; these fumbling honesties, these vulnerabilities have never been tools in Taylor's narrative repertoire the way she uses the white girlhood she shares with them has been. She owned her protagonists' anxieties; but those songs have never defined her. This was always the moral to the story of Taylor Swift, to anyone--condemning or compassionate--who cared to really hear it: behind her careful compositions and obsessive pleas, Taylor Swift was never interested in making herself a real person at all. That would have cost her everything she ever wanted. And we, the Cicerone masses, ought very well to ask ourselves, before we let that double-edged sword finally fall: would it have been any more worth it, to anyone, if she had been? [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Taylor Swift #Look What You Made Me Do #reputatio

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gokailyger84 · 7 years ago

Note

nightmare scenario (bc i love those): danny has been having reoccurring dreams of NB snapping at him for various reasons (danny doesn't care, is only using him, NB is sick of him, etc.) and leaving/making D leave. at first he's able to ignore it, but they kept coming and NB is always so angry in the dreams and D is starting to get anxious about there being some truth to them. bc he really doesn't want to lose NB but is now deathly afraid of it. hurt/comfort with a twist ;) - love, @sin-grumps

@sin-grumps

Danny’s eyes snapped open.

Blinking slowly, he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. The lingering bits of sleep fading along with his dream.

He sat up in his bed, the sheets pooling down around his waist. Running a hand through his tangled curls, he sighed softly.

Bringing his hand down, he lightly touched his bare chest. It felt tight. As if he was being squeezed from the inside.

The dream.

Once again, leaving him with a feeling of dread.

Danny frowned, throwing his covers off and climbing out of bed. He trudged sluggishly to his attached bathroom.

Flicking the light on, he approached the sink. Looking into the mirror, he could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.

He turned on the sink and splashed his face with cold water. His mind drifted back to his dream.

Danny smirked as he stared up at the looming monster. A strange cat-like creature, probably from space, roared down at him. It had to be at least thirty feet tall.

But Danny wasn’t worried.

He never was.

He charged forward, ignoring the calls to wait. He could handle this.

Danny leapt up into the sky, his cape flapping in the wind behind him. He pulled back his fist and struck the creature right between the eyes. The creature cried out in pain.

Danny’s smirk widened.

“DANNY, LOOK OUT!” A voice yelled.

Danny couldn’t react in time as a giant claw slammed into his body. The breath was knocked out of him. His limp body flew through several building before coming to rest in a pile of rubble.

Danny groaned.

He tried to sit up, wincing at the explosion of pain. He could tell several of his bones were broken. Opening an eye, he saw Egoraptor and Meouch looking down at him. They’re expressions full of worry.

Danny tried to open his mouth. Tell them he was fine. But the pain was too much. His mind slipped away into unconsciousness.

Danny woke up to find himself in his bed at home. Looking down at himself, most of his body was wrapped in bandages. A cast on his left arm and leg.

He sat up and stretched as much as he could. The pain had diminished. He could tell his bones were all healed up. He’d need to get the casts removed.

Glancing around his room, he saw he was alone, but there was a chair next to his bed. A figure then appeared in the open doorway.

Danny looked up at his partner. Nin/ja Brian was holding a tray of food. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before the nin/ja sighed and walked into the room, placing the tray on the nightstand.

He pulled off his mask and sat down on the chair. Danny continued to stare.

Nin/ja Brian was hunched over, his gaze fixed on the floor. Danny could see a few harsh looking bruises on his face. One of his forearms was also bandaged, blood beginning to soak through.

“Bri-”

“Danny. What the hell did you think you were doing?” Nin/ja Brian said interrupting.

Danny could immediately tell that he was angry. His voice was low and calm. A clear sign of restrained anger. Odd behavior that was becoming more frequent, Danny had observed.

But it was still Nin/ja Brian. His partner. His best buddy. Danny chuckled.

“What do you mean, Bri? Jealous of my awesome skills?” Danny joked.

Nin/ja Brian’s head turned towards him. Fixing Danny with an intense glare.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Danny!” Nin/ja Brian snapped.

Danny flinched.

Nin/ja Brian ran a hand over his face. Danny could see his hand was trembling.

“You always fucking do this! Just charge in without any thought! Without a plan!”

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Danny offered.

Nin/ja Brian suddenly stood up, his fists clenched at his sides.

“That’s not the fucking point, Danny!” Nin/ja Brian gritted out. He then shook his head.

“Why do I even bother?” He muttered. Danny watched in stunned silence as Nin/ja Brian exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

Danny closed his eyes, hanging his head low. The water dripping off of his face.

The dreams were becoming more frequent. They were always different but the theme remained the same.

Danny would do something, that would end up with him and Nin/ja Brian having some kind of confrontation.

That part never changed.

Nin/ja Brian being upset or angry with him.

Despite being a dream, it always left him feeling terrible and the worst thing was, he wasn’t entirely sure why.

He didn’t behave any different in his dreams than he did in real life. He was always the same. It was Nin/ja Brian who was different.

Or, maybe he wasn’t different.

In his dreams, Nin/ja Brian could talk. He didn’t hold back and would tell Danny how he felt and what he thought about his actions.

Danny turned on his shower.

But, Nin/ja Brian couldn’t talk. Not because he didn’t want to. He literally couldn’t. An incident, long ago, with a blade and his throat.

Danny stripped himself of his clothes, pushing the thoughts and dreams out of his mind.

He pointedly ignored the growing tightness in his chest

——————————————————————————-

Later on, Danny entered the kitchen. He smiled seeing the plate of breakfast waiting for him on the cabinet. He grabbed it placing it on the table.

He walked to the refrigerator, noticing the note on the it. Nin/ja Brian had left to meet up with Egoraptor for training.

Danny smiled, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a pitcher of tea. Egoraptor had been pestering Nin/ja Brian for years to train him to fight.

It made sense. Ever since N/S/P had teamed up with T/W/R/P, they had been getting involved in more battles.

Danny frowned.

Dangerous battles.

It had gotten to a point where Nin/ja Brian always created a mental link with Danny before battles and when they went out into space.

Things changed too rapidly for his sign language to be of any kind of convenience.

Danny’s mind drifted back to his dream. He still felt unsettled.

Maybe he should just chill for the day. He walked into the living room and laid down on the couch, turning the tv on.

Yeah, he should just relax. Get those unnerving dreams out of his head.

———————————————————————–

Danny groaned, grogglily as he was shaken awake. His eyes opened to see Nin/ja Brian hovering over him. His expression firm.

“Danny. There’s been an attack. We need to go.” He said through the mental link.

He then moved back as Danny sat up quickly. He rushed to his room, Nin/ja Brian right on his heels, and changed into his Sexbang uniform.

Putting a hand on Nin/ja Brian’s shoulder, the two vanished in a cloud of smoke.

————————————————

Danny stared out at the ongoing fighting.

It seemed a turf war had broken out between a human and alien gang. Danny could hear gunfire and laser sounds coming in the air.

Normally, N/S/P wouldn’t be called for something as simple as a gang war but with alien involvement, they were the ones to call.

T/W/R/P was also called in, as Doctor S/ung had ties to the aliens.

Danny could feel the urge to rush down there and stop the fight but he hesitated. His mind drifting back to his dream.

“Danny?” Nin/ja Brian called out in his mind. Danny didn’t respond.

He could hear his partner’s angry words, circling in his mind.

The fists at his side unclenched.

He turned around, away from the raging battle and approached the group.

“What’s the plan?” He asked, ignoring the looks of shock directed his way.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Danny walked down the hall. He was headed towards his and Nin/ja Brian’s in-home studio.

Today was a jam session day.

A day specifically set aside for them to work on new songs.

Danny entered the room. Nin/ja Brian was already sitting at his keyboard, playing a simple melody. Danny grinned walking over. "

Hey Nin/ja Brian.“ He greeted.

Nin/ja Brian glanced over his shoulder and nodded his greeting. Danny’s grin widened as he stopped at his partner’s side.

Nin/ja Brian turned his head towards Danny and frowned. Danny wasn’t in his usual kimono. In fact he was dressed up, as if he was going out.

Danny dug into his pockets, pulling out crumpled pieces of paper.

"Hey, so listen. I scored a date with this hot lady and we’re spending the day together. So, if you could just crank out some tasty tunes for these lyrics. I’ll be back, probably tomorrow to check them out.”

Danny placed the papers onto Nin/ja Brian’s keyboard. He then turned to head out the door.

“Danny.”

Danny paused.

Nin/ja Brian’s voice sounded off.

He turned to look at his partner, who was pulling his mask off. He then turned around in his chair and looked up at Danny.

Danny couldn’t help but notice that he looked angry.

Well, Nin/ja Brian was always angry but he looked angrier than usual.

Still, Danny put on a bright smile.

“What’s up, buddy?”

Nin/ja Brian’s eyes narrowed.

“Buddy? Is that a fucking joke!” He snapped. Danny’s smile fell from his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely confused. Nin/ja Brian gestured to the papers.

“We’re supposed to create our music today. Our music. Together.” Nin/ja Brian said.

“We set aside today, specifically to do it.”

“I know, but my plans changed.” Danny replied with a shrug. "Besides it’s not like it’s the first time I had to cancel. What’s the big deal?“

Nin/ja Brian’s hands clenched into fists.

"The big deal is, you’re dumping all the work on me again for some girl you’ll date for a week before never seeing her again.”

Danny gave him a lopsided smile.

“That’s not true, Brian. This girl’s different.”

Nin/ja Brian fought to roll his eyes. He stood up, grabbing the papers and crumbling them into a ball.

“I’m so goddamn sick of this! All you do is use me! You can make your own fucking music! I’m done!”

Danny watched in shock as Nin/ja Brian roughly brushed past him and walked out the door.

“Brian?” Danny called. "Wait!“

He ran to the door but Nin/ja Brian was gone.

Danny sat up quickly. His vision taking in the darkness of his bedroom.

Reaching over towards his nightstand, he turned on his lamp.

He ran a hand over his face, grimacing at the feeling of clamminess.

Another dream.

Another dream, where he had pissed Nin/ja Brian off.

His selfishness, once again making his partner leave.

Danny placed a hand on his chest. The feeling of dread, he was becoming used to, still lingered.

Were these dreams premonitions?

Would Nin/ja Brian really leave him?

Danny winced. That feeling weighing down on him.

Danny drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly.

These dreams were affecting him more deeply than he initially thought.

Shaking his head, Danny got out of bed and began his day.

—————————————————————————–

Walking down the hall of his home, Danny felt a sense of déjà vu.

The day had been pretty normal.

He had breakfast, messed around with his phone and watched some tv. Not too different for his usual brainstorming days.

He entered into his and Nin/ja Brian’s studio. His partner was seated at his keyboard.

Danny could smell a fresh earth scent in the air. Nin/ja Brian must have taken a shower after his training regiment.

Sometimes he didn’t.

He was probably just tired of Danny’s whining over the smell.

Danny walked over and dug into his pocket, pulling out his notes filled with potential lyrics. He usually kept them in a binder but had a creative spark, when he was out on a date and had to hastily write his thoughts down.

He didn’t miss the parallels to his dream.

Nin/ja Brian watched silently as Danny placed the notes onto his keyboard.

He looked up at Danny. A question in his eyes before understanding and resignation filled them.

He sighed and turned away, grabbing the papers.

Danny immediately felt that feeling again.

In his chest, building.

He realized, with a jolt, that his dream. He had done this before. Several times, actually.

Ditching Nin/ja Brian, leaving him with all the work. Making him work on their band alone.

Looking at his partner now, Danny could see that Nin/ja Brian was expecting him to do it again.

Dream Nin/ja Brian’s words drifted back to him.

"All you do is use me!”

Well, not this time.

Danny nudged Nin/ja Brian’s arm. He smiled when the ninja looked up at him. His eyes curious.

“Scoot over, Bri. Let’s get this session started.”

Danny watched with delight, as Nin/ja Brian’s eyes lit up. The corners of his eyes crinkling.

He was smiling.

Danny chuckled to himself, taking a seat. The tightness in his chest fading.

Yeah, this was much better.

———————————————————————————–

Danny let out a low groan. He tried to sit up, but his chest was on fire.

He bit back a cry of pain and settled back down into the pillows behind him.

That dragon packed quite a punch.

Lately, it seemed like it was becoming a trend for Danny to get his ass handed to him in battles.

He thought back to how, Nin/ja Brian had caught him mid-air after the dragon had nearly scorched him to a crisp.

Danny could at least say, he followed the plan. Creating a distraction, while Egoraptor and Lord Pho/bos blast the creature from behind.

They were able to finish the battle with minor injuries. Danny having the worst of them.

A throat cleared, causing Danny to look up. In the doorway, Nin/ja Brian stood, looking a bit nervous. Danny smiled.

“Come on in, Brian.” He said, patting the empty space next to him on his bed.

Nin/ja Brian hesitated a moment, before coming in. He took a seat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

The two sat in silence for several minutes. They didn’t need to speak.

Sometimes they just needed to be in each other’s presence. Something they got into the habit of doing, after difficult battles.

Danny didn’t fully understand it before but he did now. The relief that he and Nin/ja Brian were here, together.

How had he not seen it before?

Eventually, Nin/ja Brian stood up and headed for the door.

Danny suddenly felt a surge of panic feel him. His dreams rushing back to him.

All the times, Nin/ja Brian left him. He didn’t want Nin/ja Brian to leave him.

Not ever.

“Brian?”

Nin/ja Brian turned back to see Danny, staring up at him. His hands were tightly clenching the covers. He was biting his bottom lip.

“Do…do you…hate me?” He asked, his voice soft and vulnerable.

Nin/ja Brian’s eyes widened.

What?

Hate him?

Where did that even come from?

Nin/ja Brian walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge, beside him.

He reached up and took off his mask.

Danny shivered feeling the familiar tingle of the mental link connecting.

“What? Danny…why would you think that?”

Danny shrugged, pulling at his chest bandages absentmindedly.

“I guess…I mean lately, I’ve been sorta realizing just how I…um, treat you.” Danny mumbled, his frown deepening.

Nin/ja Brian looked at Danny curiously. Danny was worried about how he treated him?

That was a first.

Danny could be so self-centered and bullheaded, that Nin/ja Brian had just gotten used to it.

Sure, those intrusive thoughts entered his mind a lot more frequently. Mainly, after Nin/ja Brian had realized his true feelings for Danny.

His partner really came off as uncaring and manipulative. Nin/ja Brian had just accepted that as how he was.

It wasn’t like he was any better, with the murders and emotional issues but he was trying to change.

Maybe, Danny wanted to change too.

Lately, he had been.

“I do admit, sometimes I feel like you don’t…care about me.” Nin/ja Brian said.

He didn’t miss Danny’s flinch but he continued on. This would probably be his only chance to ‘voice’ how he felt.

“Despite, calling me your best friend. You never listen to me. You order me around. We always do what you want to do.”

Danny’s hands were white knuckled, gripping the sheets tightly.

“And I guess, I don’t mind. Not really. I’ve also noticed, you’ve been different lately and that’s…good. But, I mean if it’s temporary, like I said, I’m used to how you are. I’m not going to ask you to change. After all, I wouldn’t be here or alive if it wasn’t for you.” Nin/ja Brian looked down.

“I’m being selfish, I know. I owe you my life and so much more and here I am complaining.”

Danny turned towards Nin/ja Brian, quickly shaking his head.

“No, Brian. You’re not selfish. You’re right. I’ve been treating you like a lackey and not a friend.”

Danny hesitantly reached over and placed his hand over Nin/ja Brian’s, causing him to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’ve treated you that way and I want to change. I will change.” Danny then took a deep breath, squeezing Nin/ja Brian’s hand.

“I do care about you, Bri. I honestly can’t imagine my life without you.”

Nin/ja Brian’s lips quirked up.

“I don’t hate you, Danny.”

Danny could feel a warmth flowing over him. A feeling he had felt before.

A tightening of his chest but it wasn’t filled…with dread.

“I could never hate you.” Nin/ja Brian continued.

The feeling was getting stronger. Danny looked at Nin/ja Brian startled.

That feeling.

It was coming from him.

Leaking through their link?

Danny reached up a hand, lightly touching Nin/ja Brian’s cheek, causing him to blush.

“Brian.” Danny whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

“You…you love me?”

Nin/ja Brian averted his eyes, his entire face turning red. He nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

Danny shook his head.

“No, no, Brian. It’s okay. I’m just surprised.”

Nin/ja Brian shyly looked back at him.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Danny smiled chuckling lightly.

“Even I know that’s not something you can control.”

Nin/ja Brian nodded in agreement.

Danny then carefully, pulled the covers off of him and turned to his side, hanging his legs over the edge of the bed, pressing up to Nin/ja Brian’s side.

He lifted his arm, slightly wincing at the stretch, and wrapped his arm around Nin/ja Brian’s shoulder, causing the ninja’s blush to darken.

Danny’s smile widened.

He could get used to that. But first.

“Hey Brian. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. I guess, I went overboard once we left our clan. Doing what I wanted after being told what to do for so long. It’s a wonder you stuck with me all his time.”

“Danny.”

Danny shook his head.

“No, man. I’ve treated you like shit. You know it and I know it.” He ran a hand through his hair. "To find out that you actually love me. After all of that. It’s pretty surreal.“

Danny then removed his arm from around his partner’s shoulders. He shifted the both of them, until they were facing each other.

Danny gently took Nin/ja Brian’s hands into his.

"I know I don’t deserve it. Deserve you. But could you, maybe give me some time?”

Nin/ja Brian looked at him in confusion.

“Time for what?”

Danny took a breath. He looked up meeting Nin/ja Brian’s steel blue eyes.

“I care about you, Bri. I really do. But I need to do some self-reflection. To see…how I feel.”

Nin/ja Brian’s expression was still confused, until he focused on Danny’s words.

See how he feels?

His eyes widened slightly.

“Danny, you don’t have to…I don’t expect anything.” He said, looking down at their joined hands.

“You don’t have to force yourself to…love me.”

Danny lightly rubbed the backs of Nin/ja Brian’s hands with his thumbs.

“I know, Brian. But I can’t deny that I care deeply for you and lately, it’s felt like more.”

Danny suddenly laughed. It sounded breathless.

“I mean, I’ve never been attracted to a dude before. The thought never crossed my mind but with you Brian…you’re different.”

Danny then released Nin/ja Brian’s hands and pulled him into a hug. Nin/ja Brian stiffened for a moment before relaxing into his arms.

Danny could feel hints of happiness flowing through their link.

“You don’t have to, especially considering the way I’ve been treating you but…will you wait, Brian?”

Nin/ja Brian wrapped his arms around Danny, pulling himself closer. He nodded.

“I’ll wait, Danny. I’m not going anywhere.”

#asks #others prompts #ninja ship party #nsp in universe #polygrumps #my fics

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