#there is a reason why modern album covers have a certain look

[muirneach]

i need modern artists to start caring about physical music media immediately. pleaseee can we as a society get rid of streaming

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift Turns on a Facsimile Machine for the Ingenious Recreations of ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’: Album Review

Swift recreates her entire 2008 album literally down to the last note, then gives herself room for stylistic latitude on six never-before-recorded "vault" tracks.

By Chris Willman

Swift recreates her entire 2008 album literally down to the last note, then gives herself room for stylistic latitude on six never-before-recorded "vault" tracks.

There is no “best actress” award at the Grammys, perhaps for obvious reasons, but maybe there should be this coming year. And the Grammy would go to… Taylor Swift, for so persuasively playing her 18-year-old self in “Fearless (Taylor’s Version),” her beyond-meticulous recreation of the 2008 recording that did win her her first album of the year trophy back in the day. It’s impossible to overstate just how thoroughly the new version is intended as an exact replica of the old — all the way down to her startling ability to recapture an untrained teen singing voice she’s long matured and moved on from. It’s a stunt, to be sure, but a stunt for the ages — mastering the guile it takes to go back to sounding this guileless.

There are two different, very solid reasons to pick up or stream “Taylor’s Version,” regardless of whether you share her ire for the Big Machine label, whose loose ways with her nine-figure catalog precipitated this, the first in a six-album series of remakes where she’ll be turning on the facsimile machine. One is to marvel at her gift for self-mimicry on the album’s original tracks, where she sounds as possessed by her younger self as Regan ever was by Pazuzu. The other reason is, of course, to check out the six “vault” numbers that Swift wrote during that time frame but has never released before in any form, which dispenses with stylistic fealty to the late 2000s and frames her “Fearless”-era discards in production and arrangements closer to “Folklore.” Those half-dozen (kind of) new tracks really do sound like modern Taylor Swift covering her old stuff.

But those original lucky 13? It’s the same damn record… which is kind of hilarious and marvelous and the kind of meta-ness that will inspire a thousand more think-pieces than it already has, along with possibly efforts at forensic analysis to figure out how she did it.

It would not be surprising if, as we speak, Big Machine was putting a combined team of scientists and lawyers on the case of the new album’s waveform readouts, to make sure it’s not just the original album, remixed. Honestly, it’s that close. The timings of the songs are all within a few seconds of the original tracks, if not coming in at exactly the same length. The duplication effort doesn’t allow any detours. If “Forever and Always” had a cold open then, it’s going to have a cold open now. If the 2008 “That’s the Way I Love You” had slamming rock guitars with an almost subliminal banjo being plucked beneath the racket, so will the 2021 “That’s the Way I Loved You.” A drum roll to end the old “Change”? A drum roll to end its body-snatcher doppelganger. And if she chuckled before the final chorus of “Hey Stephen” 13 years ago, so will that moment be cause for a delighted giggle now.

Of course, much analysis will be put into whether the new laugh is a more knowing-sounding laugh. And that will be part of the fun for a certain segment of audiophile Swifties who will go looking for the slightest change as evidence of something meaningful. When “Love Story (Taylor’s Version)” first came out weeks back to preview the album, there were reviews written that swore she’d subtly changed up her phrasing to put a contemporary spin on the song. And maybe they were right, but, having done a fair amount of A/B testing of the two versions of the album, I found myself feeling like I do when vinyl buffs insist there are significant sonic differences between the first stamper version of an LP and one that was pressed a year later. If you can spot those very, very, very modest tweaks, go for it.

But my suspicion is that if Swift has decided to turn a phrase a little differently here or there on this album, or done anything too differently aside from brighten the sound, she’s doing it more as an Easter egg, for the people who are on that kind of hunt, than anything really designed as reinterpretation. Because the last thing Swift wants most of her fans doing is A/B-ing the two versions, the way I did. The whole point is to have folks retire the OG “Fearless” from their Spotify playlists, right? The Swift faithful were already threatening to rain down damnation on anyone caught sneaking an audio peek at the old version after midnight. What she intended was to come up with a rendering so faithful that you would never have a need to spin the vintage album again. In that, she has succeeded beyond what could have been imagined even in the dreams of the few self-forgers who’ve tried this before, like a Jeff Lynne.

Is there any reason to find value in the new versions if you couldn’t care less about the issues of masters and contracts and respect in business deals that made all this strangely possible? Yes, with the first one being that the new album just sounds like a terrific remastering of the old — the same notes, and you’d swear the same performances, but sounding brighter and punchier just on a surface level. But on a more philosophical one, it’s not just a case of Swift playing with her back catalog like Andy Warhol played with his soup can. It’s really a triumph of self-knowledge and self-awareness, in the way that Swift is so hyper-conscious of the ways she’s matured that she has the ability to un-mature before our very ears. With her vocals, it’s virtuosic, in a way, how she’s made herself return to her unvirtuosic upstart self.

On Swift’s earliest albums and in those seminal live shows — at the time when she was famously being told she “can’t sing,” to quote a song from the follow-up album — there was a slight shrillness around the edges of her voice that, if you lacked faith, you might’ve imaged would be there forever. It wasn’t. That was partly youth, and partly just the sheer earnestness with which she wanted to convey the honesty of the songs. She’s advanced so much since then — into one of pop’s most gifted modern singers, really — that the woman of “Folklore” and “Evermore” seems like a completely different human being than the one who made the self-titled debut and “Fearless,” never mind just a woman versus girl. It wouldn’t have seemed possible that she could go back to her old way of singing at the accomplished age of 31, but she found and recreated that nervous, sincere, pleading voice of yesteryear. And maybe it was just a technical feat, of temporarily unlearning what she’s learned since then, but you can sense that maybe she had to go there internally, too, to the place where she was counseling other girls to guard their sexual virtue in “Fifteen,” or wondering whether to believe the fairy tale of “Love Story” or the wakeup call of “White Horse,” or proving with “Forever & Always” that writing a song telling off Joe Jonas for his 27-second breakup call was better than revenge.

If at first you’re not inclined to notice that Swift has re-adopted a completely different singing voice for the “Fearless” remakes, the realization may kick in when those “vault” tracks start appearing in the later stretch of this hour-and-50-minute album. The writing on the six songs that have been pulled up from the 2008 cutting room floor seems primitive, even a little bit by the standards of the “Fearless” album; there are great lines and couplets throughout the rescued tracks, but you can see why she left them as works-in-progress. But she doesn’t use her youthful voice on these resurrections, nor does she employ the actual style of “Fearless” very strictly. Of course, she feels more freedom on these, because there are no predecessors in the Big Machine catalog she’s asking you to leave behind. Her current collaborators of choice, Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner, divided the co-producing work on these fresher songs, as they did for the two all-new albums she released in the last year. (The “Fearless” recreations are co-produced by Swift with Christopher Rowe, someone who worked on remixes for Swift back in that era.) They co-produce the vault songs in a style that sounds somewhere between “Fearless” and Folklore”… a more spectral brand of country-pop, with flutes and synths and ringing 12-string guitars and a modicum of drum programming replacing some (but not all) of the acoustic stringed instruments you’d expect to be carried over from “Fearless” proper.

Of the previously unheard tracks, Swift was right — she’s always been her own best self-editor — in putting out “You All Over Me” first, in advance of the album. With its imagery of half-muddy stones being upturned on the road, this song has advanced lyrical conceits more of a piece with the level of writing she’s doing now than some of the slightly less precocious songs that follow. Still, there’s something to be said for the sheer zippiness with which Swift conveys teen heartbreak in “Mr. Perfectly Fine,” which has a lyric that shows Swift had long since absorbed the lessons Nashville had to offer about how to come up with a high-concept song — the concept, in this case, being just to stick the word “mister” in front of a lot of phrases relating to her shallow ex, as if they were honorary titles to be conferred for being a shit, while she employs the “miss” for herself more sparingly.

Some of the remaining outtake songs go back more toward the sedate side of “Fearless”-style material; she didn’t leave any real bangers in the can. “We Were Happy,” the first of two successive tracks to bring in Keith Urban (but only for backgrounds on this one), employs fake strings and real cello as Swift waxes nostalgic for a time when “you threw your arms around my neck, back when I deserved it.” It’s funny, in a good way, to hear Swift at 31 recreating a song she wrote at 17 or 18 that pined for long-past better times. The next song, “That’s When,” brings Urban in for a proper duet where he gets a whole second verse and featured status on half a chorus, and it’s lovely to hear them together. But, as a make-up song, it doesn’t feel as real or lived-in as the more personal things she was writing at the time — and the fact that its chords are pretty close to a slightly more balladic version of the superior “You Belong With Me” was probably a pretty good reason for dropping it at the time.

the 18-year-old Taylor Swift is a great place to visit, but “Folklore” and “Evermore” are the place you’ll want to return to and live, unless you have an especially strong sentimental attachment to “Fearless”… which, sure, half of young America does. It’s not irreconcilable to say that the two albums she issued in the last year represent a daring pinnacle of her career, but that “Fearless” deserved to win album of the year in 2008. Has there been a greater pop single in the 20th century than “You Belong With Me”? Probably not. Did the album also have lesser moments you probably haven’t thought about in a while, like the just-okay “Breathe”? Yes. (I looked up to see whether Swift had ever played that little remarked upon number in concert, and according to setlists.fm, she did, exactly once… in 2018. Because she’s Taylor Swift, and of course she did.) It’s not certain that her duet with Colbie Caillat really needed to be resurrected, except it’s fun, because hey, she even roped former duet partners back into her time warp. But there are so many number that have stood the test of time, like “The Way I Love You,” an early song that really got at the complicated feelings about passion and fidelity that she would come to explore more as she grew into her 20s… and just kind of a headbanger, too, on an album that does love its fiddles and mandolins.

It doesn’t take much to wonder why Swift put up “Fearless” first in this six-album exercise; it’s one of her two biggest albums, along with “1989,” and it’s 13 years old, which does mean something superstitious in the Taylor-verse. In a way, it’ll be more interesting to see what happens when she gets to more complicated productions, like “1989” or “Reputation.” But maybe “Fearless” did present the opportunity for the grandest experiment out of the gate: to recreate something that pure and heartfelt, with all the meticulousness a studio master like Swift can put to that process now, without having it seem like she’s faking sincerity. Let the think-pieces proceed — because this is about six hundred different shades of meta. But, all craftiness and calculation aside, there’s a sweetness to the regression that’s not inconsequential. It harks back to a time when she only wondered if she could be fearless, before she learned it the harder way for sure. What they say about actors “disappearing into the role”? That really applies to Taylor Swift, playing herself.

[tennessoui]

33 obikin 🙏

bless i can't write anything straightforward or normal to save my life

33. Celebrity/Fan AU (modern AU, singer Obi-Wan)(1.8k)

Obi-Wan had only wanted to cook, really.

He’d decided on Tuesday night that he would take Friday off as a sort of self-care day. He needed it. In the midst of a world tour, finally with a week to breathe back in his home city, he’d wanted to relax for a day. One day without music or an audience of any kind, just him in an apartment filled mostly with dusty counters and almost expired foods.

He loves his fans, because of course he loves his fans. He loves the fact that people relate to what he writes enough to listen to his albums, although he has gone through several different sounds over the course of his career. He loves that he can be 39 and still touring the world, even though he started his career as a 13-year-old-child-actor turned teen-pop-sensation turned serious musician turned perhaps-washed-up-serious-musician turned very-much-serious-musician-actually-this-time.

If not for his fans, he wouldn’t be able to afford this house on the outskirts of his town. He wouldn’t be able to boast his performances in three-fourths of the world’s major cities. He wouldn’t be able to continue to have a career. No. He loves his fans.

It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just wants peace and quiet, a moment to himself, where he can float away without concerning himself with the flow of the setlist, the timing of the encore, the lyrics and rhythms of songs he wrote a decade ago when he was practically a different person.

It’s just such a shame that Obi-Wan leaves the handle of the wooden spoon too close to the stove’s open flame when he stirs and adjusts the heat to low for an hour so he can go soak off his stress in the bath.

It’s just such a shame that the smoke alarms from the kitchen cannot be heard over the music he’s playing in the master bath.

Obi-Wan sinks beneath the water, enjoying the unyielding pressure. He doesn’t want to retire, he tells himself. He has so many more songs to write. Sure, he hasn’t written an actual good song in two years and people are starting to notice. Sure, the intense scrutiny is driving him up the wall and killing anything creative that he’s ever harbored in his soul. Sure, his muscles and bones ache and he had almost had a breakdown the other day when he first walked through the door of his home and couldn’t remember if there was a bathroom on the first floor, but.

But he doesn’t want to retire yet. He just has to admit he’s waning, even to himself. Whatever inspiration he had has been used up or otherwise escaped. All he has now to his name are songs that have already been sung.

He doesn’t know how long he spends in the bath, really. Long enough that the album changes twice. Long enough that his fingers prune up and his eyes grow lax. Long enough that he tells himself that no matter how soothing the lavender essence is, it would be very dangerous for him to fall asleep in the bath because the news articles alone would be enough to raise him from the dead only to strike him down again.

(Long enough for the wooden spoon’s handle next to the pot to catch on fire. Long enough for that fire to burn down to the oil on the spoon itself. Long enough for the dishtowel it was resting on to ignite as well.)

The smoke alarm clues in before Obi-Wan does.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had paid extra for a smoke alarm that, when registering a certain threshold of smoke, sends a notification to the closest fire department.

Luckily, this all happens while Obi-Wan is unaware, but before he becomes in peril.

He actually remains unaware of the whole thing right up until the moment a fully-suited firefighter kicks through the door of his bathroom.

That’s when he jerks up, very unceremoniously. “Fucking Chr--what?” he shouts, raising a hand to cover his exposed chest for reasons unknown.

“Obi--??” the masked firefighter starts to say, in something akin to shock, but like Obi-Wan is going to give ground here and now. He’s cornered the market on shock on this occasion, thanks much.

“What the--”

“Your house is on fire!” the man yells over him, looking around the bathroom wildly until he sees a fluffy off-white bathrobe hanging by a hook near the door. He throws it at Obi-Wan, who just catches it before it can get wet.

“My house is what?” Obi-Wan splutters, standing automatically to put on the piece of clothing. The helmet of the firefighter turns away to give him privacy. Despite himself, he finds it rather endearing. He ties the belt around his waist tightly, stepping out of the tub.

As soon as he’s out of the water, the other man swoops him up and over his shoulder. Obi-Wan lets out a scream which he’ll probably be absolutely mortified about later.

But now, what’s more distressing is the way his body is responding to the hold he’s been placed in. He’s thirty-nine years old. He’s definitely too old for this. He should definitely know better than to be even slight aroused by such a display of...strength and stalwartness and--

The man walks him out of the bathroom and the very first thing he notices is the heat that hits his skin. “Oh!” he whimpers and then yells wordlessly in absolute panic as he realizes what this heat must mean. His house is on fire. Actual fire. Actually on fire. There’s a fireman here. Because his house is on fire.

He’s only a little ashamed to admit that there’s a fair amount of thrashing that happens immediately upon this realization.

Enough so, in fact, that the firefighter transfers him from over his shoulder to cradled in his arms, so as to hold tightly against the movement of his limbs. “Stop--moving!” the man says irritably. Obi-Wan wants to tell him to work on his bedside manner, seeing as how his house is on fire, but he doesn’t have time before they descend the stairs and he can see the actual flames.

The stairs themselves are fine, which makes sense. Hot air rises. The dining room, parlor, and entryway look like they’re absolutely covered in fire though, so really his fireman was just in time to save him.

The smoke is acrid against the back of his throat, and Obi-Wan buries his face against the textured shoulder of his rescuer's uniform just so he doesn’t have to look or breathe the air, although he feels the smoke already working its way through his lungs. Well. That might just be his imagination.

They’re out of the house in a matter of seconds, and Obi-Wan’s eyes water immediately at the difference in air quality.

The man who’s been carrying him sets him down gently on the lip of the fire truck, far enough away from the house that he’s not in any danger--though most of the place is fine still--but close enough that someone can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t remembered to grab his phone. That phone was very important. Hopefully the other firefighters will be able to stop the fire before it reaches his bathroom.

His firefighter seems intent on hovering close to him, even as there's a fire raging in the background. Obi-Wan supposes that there's around five firefighters on his property, including the one in front of him. The other four should probably be able to handle it, whether or not the fifth decides to join in or stay hovering around Obi-Wan like he's a sickly orphan.

“Are you okay?” An earnest voice asks him from under the helmet.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say he’s fine, that at most he just feels like an idiot for being stranded outside in his bathrobe as a group of public service officials fight a fire he certainly, most likely, probably caused.

But he starts to cough instead, and his firefighter steps forward immediately, placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, both beneath his robe. He hopes the man can't feel his shiver. That would be even more mortifying than his current situation.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Obi-Wan wheezes after the coughs have passed. The helmet the man is wearing only shows a quarter of his face, but he looks awfully boyish. “Aren’t you a little young to be a firefighter?”

“Deep breaths, please,” the man (boy?) tells him, which isn’t a proper response. “There’s an ambulance already on the way--it’s protocol, sir--but yes, I’m trained in emergency medical response.”

“A man of many talents,” Obi-Wan says dazedly, rubbing a hand against his chest where it aches as he watches a few men run around his house with a house. “And here all I can do is sing.”

“Hopefully you still can, sir,” his firefighter responds. “Only I’ve got tickets for your show in two days, and my little sister has been excited for weeks over this.”

Obi-Wan laughs despite himself. He’s sure it sounds at least a little bit hysterical. “Would you like me to dedicate a song for you? The man who saved my life?”

Even the helmet can't hide the nice shade of red his firefighter blushes at those words.

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks, smoothing down his still-damp hair. It feels important to know his name. It feels just as important to look his best, given the circumstances.

The firefighter ducks his head and takes off his helmet. Obi-Wan wonders if the man should be going back to work, or if he’s been assigned victim duty. Either way, Obi-Wan isn’t going to complain, definitely not after his firefighter shakes out his hair and turns to face him with a sheepish grin stretching across a handsome face. “‘M Anakin,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan is awfully aware that he’s dressed only in his bathrobe in front of a very pretty firefighter who seems to know who he is--who seems to have tickets for his upcoming show. “Call me Obi-Wan,” he tells him, already trying to remember his manager’s phone number so that he can bump Anakin and his sister’s tickets up to the VIP section. It’s the least he can do, after all. Anakin had just saved his life.

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Anakin says with a shy sort of twist of his mouth. Obi-Wan gets the impression that it isn’t just his little sister that’s been excited for his concert. An impression that is solidified quickly as Anakin tacks on, “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Obi-Wan laughs incredulously at this, at the entire situation, at the man in front of him, at the fact that some part of his brain has started composing a song the second his firefighter had smiled at him in his bathrobe with his tired face and wet hair, kitchen burning his house down because he’d forgotten basic fire-safety rules in favor of his own self-care soak.

“Well,” he says, patting his firefighter’s knee, “I don’t have to tell you that I’m a huge fan of your work as well.”

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: one of my favourite “hidden gems” of the mid-1980s, Blancmange’s *Mange Tout* is about as extra and in-your-face as it gets, full of dense arrangements, gender-bending bombast, and musical instruments from Southern Asia.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! This time around, I’ll be taking a look at one of my favourite hidden gems from the mid-1980s, the sophomore LP of Blancmange, entitled Mange Tout.

Despite their relative obscurity today, particularly in comparison to many of their contemporaries, Blancmange weren’t total strangers to the pop charts. Their first full-length LP, 1982’s Happy Families, would yield the biggest hit of their career: “Living on the Ceiling,” which peaked at #7.

Music: “Living on the Ceiling”

While it never got to be a chart-topper, “Living on the Ceiling” is still an unforgettable track in its own ways. Perhaps its most distinctive feature is its use of the traditional Indian instruments, the sitar and tabla. While 80s synth-pop is certainly full of Orientalism, most of the references you’ll find are pointing to the Far East, and the perceived aesthetic sophistication and techno-utopian futurism of China and Japan. Aside from certain works of Bill Nelson, Blancmange were pretty much the only ones engaging with South Asian musical themes. Blancmange’s instrumentalist, Stephen Luscombe, grew up in London’s Southall neighbourhood, which had a high population of immigrants from Southern Asia, which led him to a lifelong interest in Indian music. Combined with electronics, it makes for a totally unique sound, which ends up sounding better in practice than it might in theory.

While any time White European musicians turn to alternative cultures as artistic tools, there’s a valid cause for some degree of criticism and concern, there’s also an artsy, left-field un-hipness about Blancmange, who seemingly drew from Indian music not only alone, but purely for sonic enjoyment. Unlike the exotic fantasies spun by groups like Japan, none of Blancmange’s songs seem propelled by any specific idea or ideology about India, but rather seem to tackle common pop themes of love and heartbreak against a seemingly *non sequitur* musical backdrop. While we, as listeners, might have strong associations with particular sounds, this is ultimately more cultural than innate, and there’s really no reason why a composition with Indian instruments must revolve around some theme of “Indian-ness”; it isn’t like people in India don’t also fall in love. However you feel about these influences, the role of Indian instruments is only increased on Mange Tout, where they appear on multiple tracks, including the album’s most successful single, “Don’t Tel Me.”

Music: “Don’t Tell Me”

On Mange Tout tracks like “Don’t Tell Me,” not only do the instruments return, but so do the session musicians who had performed on “Living on the Ceiling”: Deepak Khazanchi, on sitar, and Pandit Dinesh, on the percussion instruments tabla and madal. “Don’t Tell Me” is a track with a lot of pop appeal, lightweight and singable, which makes it a bit surprising that it was actually the final single released from the album. It certainly impresses me that Blancmange managed to create such bubbly and finely tuned pop, given that neither of their core members came from any formal or technical background: Luscombe had had a history in avant-garde music ensembles, and vocalist Neil Arthur became interested in music via the DIY culture of punk. Their first-ever release, the 1980 EP Irene & Mavis, sounds more like Throbbing Gristle than Culture Club, but they somehow managed to arrive at something quite sweet and palatable in the end. That said, it’s also possible for sweet to eventually become too sweet--and this line is provoked on the album’s divisive second single, “That’s Love, That It Is.”

Music: “That’s Love, That It Is”

In contrast to the lighter “Don’t Tell Me,” “That’s Love, That It Is” is utterly bombastic, with a vicious intensity. The instrumentation and production style is dense to the point of being borderline overwhelming. By this point in his life, Stephen Luscombe had recently discovered that he was gay, and his time spent in nightclubs that catered to the gay community provided another pillar of Blancmange’s signature sound: the influence of the queer disco tradition, which is almost certainly the source of this tightly-packed instrumental arrangement style. Blancmange never seem to be mentioned in the same breath as other stars of queer synth-pop like Bronski Beat, Soft Cell, and the Pet Shop Boys, presumably due to the combination of their overall obscurity and the fact that Luscombe was never the face of their band, but I see no reason not to include them in the same pantheon of camp. Speaking of queerness, it’s also worth noting how Blancmange played with gender, particularly on their cover of “The Day Before You Came.”

Music: “The Day Before You Came”

A solid eight years before Erasure’s iconic Abba-Esque, Blancmange offered their own interpretation of an ABBA classic with “The Day Before You Came.” In their hands, it’s a languid dirge, and a meditation on quotidian miseries for which the titular event seems to offer little respite. The unchanged lyrics, portraying the narrator working in an office and watching soap operas at night, are subtly feminine-coded, but the deep and unmistakably masculine voice of vocalist Neil Arthur seems to muddle those connotations. While it is a cover, I’m tempted to sort it into the same tradition as Soft Cell’s “Bedsitter” and the Pet Shop Boys’ “Left To My Own Devices,” as a work which musically elevates the everyday life of a campily self-obsessed character to the sort of melodrama the narrator perceives it to have.

I’ve spent a lot of time praising the instrumental side of their music so far, but it’s also true that Blancmange wouldn’t be Blancmange without Arthur’s contributions. The presence of his rough and untrained voice, with the added gruffness of a Northern accent, draws a line between these tracks and a typical pop production, and he sells us quite successfully on the gloomy, ominous feeling of tracks like “The Day Before You Came” and the album’s lead single, “Blind Vision.”

Music: “Blind Vision”

On the cover of Mange Tout, we find an assortment of seemingly unrelated items, which form a sort of graphic wunderkammer against a pale beige backdrop. Perhaps the best theme that could be assigned to them is that of travel--we see several means of transportation, such as a boat, a motorbike, and an airplane flying above a map, as well as items that can be taken as symbols of exotic locales, such as a North American cactus, and an elephant and Zulu nguni shield from Africa. Only the harp is clearly evocative of music itself--and this instrument won’t even be found on the album! The album’s title, “Mange Tout,” suggests that we are getting “full” Blancmange, or “all of” Blancmange. Taken together, the cover and title seem to imply that this album is stuffed to the brim, and contains a whole world of musical ideas. I would definitely agree that that’s a major motif of the album: it’s audacious, explosive, and free-wheeling. It very much feels like an album that was put together on the back of a first initial success, with a pumped-up budget and bold creative vision, and hence pulls no punches. Perhaps the most compelling feature of Mange Tout, and the primary reason I recommend this album so highly, is its unbridled enthusiasm for what it’s doing. Even in its ostensibly experimental moments, Mange Tout feels not like an album that is “trying” something, but rather one that boldly and assuredly proclaims the things it does, and embraces a kind of “more is more” maximalism.

In hindsight, it’s easy to see Mange Tout as the creative as well as commercial peak of Blancmange’s career. Their follow-up release, 1985’s Believe You Me, is far from the worst album I’ve ever heard, but it definitely doesn’t feel quite the same as the “classic” Blancmange works, adopting a more middle-of-the-road, radio-friendly synth-pop direction, with less of the South Asian influences and experimentation that really set them apart in the saturated synth-pop landscape. While not a work devoid of merit, Believe You Me was a relative commercial dud, and the duo would split soon after, chiefly citing personal and creative differences--though they did have a brief reunion in the early 2010s.

Music: “Lose Your Love”

My favourite track on Mange Tout is “All Things Are Nice,” which, alongside the neo-doo-wop “See the Train,” would be classed as one of the more experimental tracks on the album. Full of tension, “All Things Are Nice” alternates between eerily whispering vocals from Arthur, and a variety of samples from other media--which was still a relatively cutting-edge technique for the time. “All Things Are Nice” is almost certainly the most conceptual track on the album: as samples discuss world war, and Arthur whispers that “we can’t keep up with it,” the song is probably to be interpreted as a commentary on the runaway nature of technology and so-called “progress” in the modern age. The titular assertion that “all things are nice” seems to be ironic--or perhaps it embodies a sheer love of chaos and unpredictability, for their own sake, which would certainly fit the album’s mood. It also feels like it might be a sort of defense of the album itself: like I said, *Mange Tout* is serving us “all of Blancmange,” and isn’t it fun to get to have all of something? That’s everything for today--as always, thanks for listening!

Music: “All Things Are Nice”

[obtusemedia]

Ranking Lady Gaga's albums, from worst to best

Being a Lady Gaga fan can be an exercise in frustration.

Gaga is far more ambitious than most popstars — I doubt we’ll ever see Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran make an album as left-field as Born This Way or ARTPOP. But she's also far less consistent, with numerous misbegotten projects.

Gaga's undeniably successful, with five #1 hits, an Oscar and multiple iconic music videos to her name. But her messy album rollouts and tradition of underperforming lead singles make her feel like an underdog compared to the more polished, precise careers of her contemporaries like Taylor Swift, Beyoncé or Bruno Mars.

Gaga is kind of a mess. But she's our mess. This album ranking will cover some records I can't stand — albums that make me constantly hit the fast-forward button, or albums I ignore altogether. But there isn't a single record on here that wasn't a bold move. Even the "back to basics" albums made strong aesthetic choices.

So let's dive into the career of the most fascinating Millennial popstar.

#8: Cheek To Cheek (2014)

This really shouldn't count. It's a Lady Gaga album in name only. But, technically it's a Gaga album, so here we are.

I've got nothing against Gaga having fun playing Rat Pack-era dress-up with Tony Bennett. She's a theatre kid at heart, and I'm sure every theatre kid would kill to make a Great American Songbook covers record like this. It sounds like she and Tony enjoyed themselves, so I'm happy for them!

...but I'm sorry. I can't be objective about Cheek To Cheek, it's the opposite of my taste. There's only so many bland lounge ballads I can take.

BEST SONGS: I have to pick one? "Anything Goes" is cute, I guess.

WORST SONG: "Sophisticated Lady"

#7: A Star Is Born (2018)

Let me first make this clear — A Star Is Born, the movie starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga? It's a masterpiece. It's electrifying and tragic and I'm still upset it didn't sweep the Oscars that year. There's even a cute dog! You won't hear me say a bad word about it.

But A Star Is Born, the accompanying soundtrack? It's extremely hit-and-miss.

Yes, it includes arguably Gaga's best-ever song and one of the greatest movie hits ever written, "Shallow." And there's plenty of other great tunes in the tracklist too — "Always Remember Us This Way," "I'll Never Love Again," the "La Vie En Rose" cover.

Even the country-rock songs from Bradley Cooper (who, reminder, is not a professional singer) are mostly good! "Black Eyes" RIPS, and "Maybe It's Time" feels like a long-lost classic.

But sadly, there are so many mediocre filler tracks on this thing. The second half of A Star Is Born's hour-plus runtime (Gaga's longest!) is padded with generic songs like "Look What I've Found," "Heal Me" and "I Don't Know What Love Is." The only good one out of the bunch is the silly, intentionally-bad "Why Did You Do That?"

In the movie, these filler tracks serve a point – they're meant to show Gaga's character selling out. They work in the movie when you hear them for a few seconds and see Cooper make a drunkly disappointed scowl. But I don't want to listen to them, and sadly, they make up half the album.

In other words — A Star Is Born would've made an incredible six or seven-song EP. But as an 63-minute-long record? It's a slog.

BEST SONGS: "Shallow", "Always Remember Us This Way," "Maybe It's Time"

WORST SONG: "Heal Me"

#6: Joanne (2016)

After Born This Way and ARTPOP, I get why Gaga needed to make a more lowkey, back-to-basics album. I also understand that many of these songs have extremely personal lyrics for her.

But is a down-to-earth album what I really want from our most outré popstar? Not really.

Luckily, Joanne is better than that description suggests. Yes, there are some bland acoustic ballads and awkward hippie-era throwbacks (two styles that are really not in Gaga's wheelhouse), but there's also some Springsteen-style heartland rockers! And those go hard in the paint.

Joanne works best when Gaga works the record's dusty aesthetics into her brand of weirdo pop, like on the sizzling "John Wayne," the winking "A-YO" or the delightfully extra Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl."

The record also has "Perfect Illusion" — a glorious red herring of a lead single that sounds nothing like anything else on Joanne. It's a roided-up mixture of woozy Tame Impala production and hair metal histrionics, and it rules. It might be Gaga's best-ever lead single! (at the very least, it's her most underrated.)

And there is one slow tune that's unambiguously great: "Million Reasons," another solid Gaga lighters-in-the-air power ballad pastiche.

Despite what some Little Monsters may tell you, Joanne isn't a disaster. There's some great stuff in there, and even the worst songs are just forgettable. But it's still far from her best.

BEST SONGS: "Perfect Illusion," "Diamond Heart," "Million Reasons"

WORST SONG: "Come To Mama"

#5: Chromatica (2020)

When Chromatica was released near the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, it had been seven years since Gaga had released music in her classic gonzo-synthpop vein. I can easily picture the record serving as an "ugh fine, I'll give you what you want" response to the many Little Monsters annoyed with Gaga's half-decade of folksy ballads and Julie Andrews cosplay.

I'll say this about Chromatica — outside of The Fame Monster, it's her most consistent record. There's not a single track that's a glaring mistake. And the three singles — "Stupid Love," "911" and the triumphant Ariana Grande duet "Rain On Me" — easily stand among her best tracks.

But although "all bangers, no ballads" album sounds rad in theory, it doesn't really succeed in practice. Chromatica is solid, but it's also a very same-y record. It feels like Gaga had one really great idea for the album ('90s club music with super-depressing lyrics) and repeated it over and over and over again to diminishing results.

There are some songs that are able to separate themselves: the three singles, of course, as well as the goofy "Babylon" and "Sine From Above," the Elton John duet that's the closest Chromatica gets to a ballad. But by the end of the album, you feel more worn out than electrified.

Also — and this is probably unfair, but still — Chromatica came out just a couple months after another retro-dance blockbuster pop album: Dua Lipa's magnum opus, Future Nostalgia. That's not a flattering comparison.

BEST SONGS: "Rain On Me," "Stupid Love," "911"

WORST SONG: "1000 Doves"

#4: The Fame (2008)

Out of all of Gaga's records, The Fame is most like a time capsule. It REEKS of late '00s/early '10s pop — which isn't an entirely fair criticism, seeing as Gaga popularized that era's sleazy, synthy aesthetic. It's also not a bad thing! I don't mind a little nostalgia!

As you already know, The Fame's singles are masterworks. "Just Dance," "Poker Face," "Paparazzi" — these tracks have titanic legacies for good reason. And although it's probably the least-beloved of this album's hits, despite being a total banger, "LoveGame" should still be commended for having arguably the most Gaga lyric ever (you know, the "disco stick" line).

And even though those tracks are front-loaded on The Fame, there are some gems deeper in the tracklist. "Summerboy" is basically Gwen Stefani covering The Strokes (so obviously, it's great). "Eh, Eh" is adorable. "Starstruck" is the most 2008 song ever recorded, with aggressive Auto-Tune and Flo Rida showing up to make Starbucks jokes.

Sadly, The Fame still feels like Gaga before she became fully-formed at certain points. The back half has a number of songs that feel like generic club tracks forced by the label, and "Paper Gangsta" is one of the clunkiest songs in Gaga's catalogue.

But at the very least, the bad songs on The Fame at least serve as little nostalgia bombs for that era of pop. And the best songs are untouchable classics.

BEST SONGS: "Paparazzi," "Just Dance," "Summerboy"

WORST SONG: "Paper Gangsta"

#3: ARTPOP (2013)

For much of Gaga's career, she's been ahead of the curve. She tries something, and a year or a few years later, other popstars try something similar to diminishing results.

That doesn't just apply to the successful stuff, like Gaga's extravagant music videos inspiring many copycats from 2010-2013. It also applies to the mid-late '10s trend of legacy popstars making a controversial record with risky aesthetic or lyrical choices that backfired: reputation. Witness. Man of The Woods.

Gaga did this first, with ARTPOP — arguably the most abrasive, and bizzare major label album released by a major modern popstar. And she did it better, because unlike Swift, Perry and Timberlake, Gaga's weirdness was for real. And it was in service of some prime, hyper-aggressive bangers.

ARTPOP isn't Gaga's best work — some of her experiments on it are major misfires, from the obnoxious "Mary Jane Holland" to the bland Born This Way leftover (and Romani slur-utilizing) "Gypsy."

But when ARTPOP is on, it's ON. The opening stretch in particular, from "Aura" to "Venus" to "G.U.Y." to "Sexxx Dreams," is chaotic synthpop at its finest. Those songs took Gaga's classic sound to an apocalyptic, demented extreme, and they're fantastic.

"MANiCURE" is a great glam-rock banger, "Dope" is another classic Gaga piano ballad, the title track is some sikly-smooth dreampop; even the misguided, clunky trap anthem "Jewels N' Drugs" is bad in a hilarious, charming way!

Trust me: ARTPOP will go down in history not as a flop, but as a gutsy, underrated record from a legend. Less Witness, more In Utero.

BEST SONGS: "G.U.Y.," "Venus," "Sexxx Dreams"

WORST SONG: "Gypsy"

#2: The Fame Monster (2009)

Objectively speaking, this is probably the best Gaga album.

It's her one record with no fluff, no filler — only 34 minutes and 8 tracks, all of them stellar.

It's the record that took Gaga from "wow, this new woman is a fresh new face in pop!" to "this woman IS pop."

It's the record with her signature track, "Bad Romance," which was accompanied by arguably the greatest music video of the 21st Century. (It also has my absolute favorite Gaga track, the relentlessly catchy "Telephone.")

I don't think I need to explain what makes mega-smashes "Bad Romance" and "Telephone" and "Alejandro" great, nor the accompanying legendary deep cuts "Speechless" and "Dance In The Dark." They speak for themselves.

However — the sleek, calculated perfection of The Fame Monster, while incredible, isn't something I return to often. It's just not the side of Gaga that's my favorite. That honor would have to go to...

BEST SONGS: "Telephone," "Dance In The Dark," "Bad Romance"

WORST SONG: "So Happy I Could Die" (but it's still pretty solid)

#1: Born This Way (2011)

One of my favorite podcasts is Blank Check. The concept of the show is to analyze each movie by a famous director — in particular, those who had big success early on and then got a blank check to make whatever crazy passion project they wanted. Here's a great example: because Batman was a massive hit, Tim Burton got to make whatever Hot Topic-core movies he wanted to for decades, from Edward Scissorhands to a creepy Willy Wonka remake.

That long-winded tangent is just to say: Born This Way was Lady Gaga's blank check. By early 2011, she had conquered the pop universe, notching hit after hit after hit. Every other pop star was copying her quirky music videos. So the label let Gaga do whatever she wanted — and she didn't waste that opportunity.

Born This Way is wildly overproduced. It's both extremely trend-chasing (those synths were cutting edge at the time but charmingly dated now), but also deeply uncaring about what the teens want (I don't think Springsteen and Queen homages were big at the time). And I love every messy, overblown second of it.

From the hair-metal/synthpop hybrid opener "Marry The Night" to the majestic '80s power ballad "The Edge of Glory," Born This Way starts at an 11. And Gaga never takes her foot off the pedal for the album's entire hour-plus run time. Clanging electric guitars, thunderous synths and Clarence Clemons (!!!) sax solos collide into each other as Gaga champions every misfit and loser in the world. It's gloriously corny in the best way possible.

Born This Way is also the perfect middle ground of pop-savvy Gaga and gonzo Gaga. It doesn't go quite as hard as ARTPOP, but the hooks are stronger. And the oddball moments are tons of fun, from the sci-fi biker anthem "Highway Unicorn" to the goofy presidential-sex banger "Government Hooker" ("Put your hands on me/John F. Kennedy" might be the greatest line in pop history).

Born This Way will always be my favorite Gaga album. It's armed with nuclear-grade hooks, slamming beats, and soaring anthems. Although it's not as untouchably pristine as the Mt. Rushmore of '10s pop classics (for the record, that's 1989, EMOTION, Lemonade and, of course, Melodrama), Gaga isn't best served by meticulousness. She's proudly tacky and histrionic, and so that's what makes Born This Way an utter joy.

BEST SONGS: "The Edge of Glory," "You and I," "Marry The Night"

WORST SONG: "Bloody Mary"

[rpgmgames]

April’s Featured Game: Nobody's Home

DEVELOPER(S): oates ENGINE: RPG Maker MV GENRE: Survival Horror SUMMARY: After a night of extreme drinking and partying, you wake up in stranger's bed to discover... Nobody's Home.

Buy the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *oates: Hi, this is oates! I'm a pixel artist and game developer, I've started making games with rpgmaker in 2016 with VX Ace and now currently using MV for recent projects. Previous projects I've worked on were the FNaF-inspired Souls-like One Night at the Steeze, my first rpgmaker game and it's prequel, the FNaF-inspired roguelike No Delivery. Other games I've worked on include the fangames Day Dreaming Derpy, made in VX Ace and Spike's Day Off, made in MV and the latest in a series of previous fangames previously developed on Adobe Flash.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *oates: Nobody's Home is largely based on my experiments to find and apply horrific elements in modern situations or phenomena. The scenario being explored here in Nobody's Home is the aftermath of some crazy party. Sound design is especially important when crafting a horror scenario, so I often look to music to draw inspiration. Much of the atmosphere and house design was inspired by music and imagery associated with '70s yacht rock (a sub-genre of soft rock). Another important note is a lot of the general mood and 'weirdness' was inspired by a band I listen a lot to, Dance Gavin Dance, specifically their "deathstar" album. However they have a tendency in all their albums to switch genres mid-song, often going from their post-hardcore sound to funk, pop, and even rap; aside from that, some of the subject matter covered can range from disturbing to unpleasant to nonsensical, but combined with the amazing music, it creates an experience that pulls the listener in all different directions. It got to the point that I was naming events in the game after some their tracks so I had to be careful not to inadvertently make a fangame haha But there are some easter eggs in Nobody's Home that were intentionally left in, and I'm fairly certain players have identified it already.

How long did you work on your project? *oates: I used much of the same framework left over from my previous project No Delivery for this development cycle, so the hassle for setting up asset pipelines was very much mitigated. I started in earnest, making assets back in January this year so it took roughly 2+ months to finish development for this project.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *oates: Aside from the previous music inspirations, I was really intrigued with the way Resident Evil 7's Beginning Hour demo was able to pick up where Konami's cancelled PT left off in terms of survival horror games to look forward to back in 2017. Prior to later updates, the initial demo really only included a few set pieces, basic item interaction, and almost no puzzles from the full game. It was largely able to pull off scaring players from almost atmosphere alone (if you exclude the Jack Baker and ghost encounters). It was later in the full game that it was able to show off it's metroidvania-esque design to its fullest. After my previous project, I wanted to step away from roguelike design for a bit and focus a little more on an exploration-based experience, so I took a few notes from the way RE7 and RE2: Remake handled map design and progression.

Did you come across any challenges during development? How did you overcome or work around them? *oates: I was coming off a severe cold last year and it took most of January for me to recover, so it was a little hard to start full-on development immediately like I normally would on top of other career matters. And looking at events today, it's even more imperative that developers practice healthy habits during development.

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *oates: I've had the idea for Nobody's Home as a concept for a while, but filling in those gaps with actual gameplay between centerpieces was a big variable. I went back and forth between the turn-based item combat from the previous project to cutting out combat entirely. While I didn't implement it, I also brainstormed a few concepts for overworld action and combat ala Zelda, but it seemed too complex given the time frame I set for myself. Eventually I settled on a middle ground between full combat and separate encounters, with "enemies" acting as essentially a toll gate. The rest of the game followed suit with various tolls and "mouse traps" for the player to trigger at their own behest. This wasn't necessarily the design I had in mind at first, but it helped to concisely fill a relatively small location with specifically "deadly" content.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *oates: I largely work solo for both development and art, but I do regularly work with a few musicians for an original soundtrack. I first started working with other composers for the fangame Day Dreaming Derpy, where after the initial demo was released, I received emails from a few musicians volunteering to contribute some tracks for the game. In all, the original soundtrack contained 9 tracks in total, with 3 tracks from each composer; each of them doing an amazing job and, in my opinion brought the project back then to a higher degree of quality. This was how I met some of the composers I still work with today and they all have some really great work! TheNGVirus @NGVirusNG1 Kaminakat @thekaminakat dRedder @HornyGremlin

What is the best part of developing a game? *oates: It's a toss up between the initial brainstorming/research and the first run-through when you have your desired maps linked together. For the brainstorming, it's pretty fun to learn about subject matter you want to do justice to as well as stretching your creative muscles for the first time in service to a certain concept. However this obviously wears off when you devote too much time to a particular concept, but it's still enjoyable nevertheless. For making that run-through, it doesn't necessarily mean to have all the events implemented, but to experience your game the way players will experience it for the first time does give a sense of completion/cohesion to what you, as a developer, are trying to accomplish. It essentially puts what you're working on into a different perspective for you.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *oates: I do keep an eye out for what other rpgmaker projects are doing, and to see what others can do with the engine helps get the creative juices flowing; it's also fun to try to mentally reverse engineer how certain mechanics or effects were made. And it's always great to see fellow devs showcase what's possible with the engine.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *oates: Nobody's Home has a relatively small cast of characters, whom you do interact with but never see, this is largely to done to create a sense of "un-relatability", but if I had to pick a character, it'd be "car guy", the guy you find stuck in the car. They have a good line, " ...there'd be a good reason for this, but there isn't..." Story of my life.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *oates: There were a few areas I would have liked to expand on or add, specifically- the attic + roof, the front lawn, behind the walls, and an entire second floor. Unfortunately that meant potentially adding more questlines and NPCs while the first set of questlines were pretty interwoven so it would have been way more complex, also again, given the time frame I set, it would have extended the development cycle way beyond what I had time for. But if I had implemented those extra areas, the game's length would also go way beyond the 30 min - 1 hr it takes to complete the game as it is now.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *oates: I'd like to do both really, each installment of the VCRPG line of games is definitely a stand-alone story, or an isolated incident, but I would love to explore the aftermath of the game's events and how the passage of time ravages and twists the story into urban legend. I like to treat places and environments like characters as well, capable of making memories, being misunderstood, preserved, destroyed, and ultimately capable of change.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *oates: Both the fan reaction and free time honestly speaking. Once the development cycle finishes and the game is published, your work isn't really finished as there's always a chance someone's feedback can apply to immediate changes or patches you can implement, even during the release period. Marketing is also another large step to take into consideration after release, this includes tweeting, sending keys for lets plays, etc. Watching playthroughs is also a really good way to collect data on what parts of your design fall through and what fail to land. But after all that is said and done, some free time really helps the brain recuperate.

Was there something you were afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *oates: Just whether or not I handled the game's subject matter tastefully. Like horror cinema, everything done is in service the the themes and message of the piece as a whole.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *oates: The game engine is essentially a tool, and like any tool you can find plenty of creative ways to get the same result. And don't be afraid to research whatever it is you need help with, it also helps to be specific with what you want.

Question from last month's featured dev @moca-pz: If you can collaborate with any game developer in the world, who would it be? What would be their role(s) and what would be your role(s)? *oates: Game developer I'd like to work with: Hidetaka Miyazaki His role: Story Lead and Director My role: Drinking buddy Game we're working on: SciFi Souls

We mods would like to thank oates for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Nobody's Home if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[vyvesvi]

updated top albums list + recommended tracks from each bc im bored lol

*tentatively* in order

unnatural - wjsn | recommended songs: all of them (especially unnatural, supermoon, and yalla) except for rewind | skips: just rewind bc ballad /// im not sure what style to call this album but they really made such a smash, its crazy that it came out so early in the year and no gg is touching it (album wise). literally the only complaints i have are the obligatory ballad (that they always do bc they can all sing lmfao), the album cover/title (dont love the cover design and i dont love when the album name is the tt name, except in certain circumstances (a full album (especially where the title isnt necessarily from the title track) like montero) or when it's a single album (the inverse of this being rsq's prequel which couldve just been called colorfull since that was the only damn song 😐)). i also was disappointed with the outfits for last dance but that's peripheral.

timeabout, - yukika | recommended songs: insomnia & secret | skips: none /// okay to keep it very real im genuinely scared that she'll never surpass soul lady. i love, and i mean LOVE timeabout, but soul lady was on another plane of existence. like she could've held that album a little bit

the other side of the moon - gwsn | recommended songs: like it hot, starry night, i cant breathe | skips: i sing, depending on my mood /// i dont have much commentary tbh,this is just a very solid mini idk. id like to see a fusion of i cant breathe/tweaks/after the bloom/burn, maybe on their next mini. i love their brighter stuff but maybe a darker concept next (halloween cb pls pls pls)

montero - lil nas x | lowkey too soon for me to pick recommended songs but i'll say montero, scoop, lost in the citadel, sun goes down, and am i dreaming for now. will update! | skips: none /// i cant say that this is this year's sawayama bc sawayama was kinda more like a collection of really strong singles? whereas i feel like these songs shine as an album. i dont even know what to say except that im soooo surprised and impressed because i didnt know that this is the type of music he made???? like he raps but theres a lot of singing? not like belting but definitely not rapping. its kinda...alt ish? in some places? if i had to use ine genre to describe the whole album id probably say alt pop? idk but whatever it is it's definitely working

hide & seek - purple kiss | recommended songs: zombie & so why (tbh all of them) | 2am and zzzz depend on my mood but theyre def not full skips /// no bad song on the album this is crazy....i might rerank since i just listened to it for the first time but as of now idk, its good im just super impressed. ponzona wasnt for me but this cb theyre really doing all the things, lovr tht for them

produced by: [myself] - onlyoneof | recommended songs: coy & night flight | question mark depends on my mood /// im still mad at them (read: 8d) sooooo...idk. i can’t really listen to their music rn. but this mini is still good

play game: holiday - weeekly | recommended songs: check it out, weekend, holiday party | i like memories of summer rain and la luna but it depends on my mood /// very cohesive mini, def their best overall imo! not much to say, but i hope jiyoon gets well soon TTTT

enchant - orbit | recommended songs: gokurakuchouka & never gonna get away but also all of them except flor lunar | skips: flor lunar is nice but boring /// i need kpoppies to get into it im tired of being here alone cmon y’all

set - woodz | recommended songs: feel like | skips: none /// i prefer his bright tracks but this mini was solid as usual. where is the full album tho seungyoun hmmm????

guess who - itzy | recommended songs: sorry not sorry, tennis (0:0), kidding me | skips: in the morning, occasionally wild wild west /// i remember being very surprised that i liked this album, especially given that i dont like mitm. not anything groundbreaking but still solid. i think the naming of tennis (0:0) was really clever

intersection: trace - bae173 | recommended songs: green light, loved you | skips: none (sometimes the intro tho) /// honestly their music is really good??? mbk just hasn’t promoted them well, i feel like they make it a little hard to stan...i really appreciate that they’re not doing the stereotypical hard bg concept thing

lilac - iu | recommended songs: coin, flu, ah puh, troll | skips: honestly id have to relisten, some of the songs a lil boring but idr them at the moment

hello future - nct dream | recommended songs: hello future, life is still going on | skips: idr tbh, probably hot sauce though //// was very surprised that i liked this album, but the outro of hello future really got me after a few listens so i had to check it out. very decent!

killa - mirae | recommended songs: killa, sweet dreams, 1 thing | skips: none really but all of the bsides are a little mid tbh /// i will be 1000% honest in saying that the three reasons this allbum made this list are 1.) killa (the tt), 2.) none of the songs are bad, 3.) lien’s vocals. something about lien....he really just sells whatever song he’s on. his belting >>>>>>>>>>>. he makes their music very enjoyable to listen to, next in that department would be junhyuk. based on their most recent cb, siyoung and khael also contribute a lot as well. shame that the rest of the cb album kinda does nothing for me idk. random but i would really like a gg to cover higher and/or killa

& - loona | recommended songs: ur, ptt | skips: a different night, dance on my own /// these r my girls but this is not their best. ur is wonderful though, and ptt is addicting somehow. wow and be honest are fine but really not their best. i like wow’s choreo tho! 

albums im excited to listen to (no particular order):

last year was weird volume 3, tkay maidza (i’ve already listened to a bunch of it but i need to sit and just listen to the whole thing)

troubled paradise, slayyter (same as above, but i didn’t even realize it came out this year, i thought it was old for some reason lol)

jo1, challenger (every song of theirs i hear i like pretty much so i need to take an organized look at them lmfao)

jo1, stranger (same as above)

only lovers left, woodz (duhhh its woodz. not out yet but im excited! i do prefer his brighter concepts and this def isn’t that. he says its not gonna be like what he’s done before but the title and concept photo that’s out rn is giving lift up)

the book of us: negentropy - chaos swallowed up in love, day6 (the title kinda bored me but we’ll see. also sungjin’s gone so.....................we’ll see.)

ancient dreams in a modern land, marina (i barely got past venus fly trap because its soooooo good. i’ve listened to a little after that but the songs i heard didn’t really compare. i have to give it a shot tho)

the chaos chapter: fight or escape, txt (i liked the blue hour mini so i need to give them a chance i suppose)

333, tinashe (i just feel like i should idk)

honorable mentions (no particular order):

blue hour, txt - discovered this year, came out last year. retroactively makes the 2020 albums list bc whew the market research that went into that thing paid off

hula hoop/ starseed ~kakusei~, loona (why tf does the album not have a name) - duhhh loona + synths = a smash. in fact like i said when it dropped i dont even wanna call them loona anymore. this is kongetsu no shoujo!!! this isn’t on my top albums list because im counting as two songs and my limit is 3. i might add it anyways lmfao. we’ll see

ugly beauty, jolin tsai - discovered this year, came out in 2018. i just really like jolin tsai idk. i had only heard that album w play and i’m not yours, both are iconic but the production quality sounds...low? like its older but ik they’re not *that* old. either way, ugly beauty does everything i wanted it to - dramatic, vocals, rapping, boa vibes...jolin tsai is a queen what can i say

also, there are of course a ton of singles that i love as well, this is albums only though lmfao. i have no idea if i could even attempt to organize the singles lol

[kafkasmelomania]

May 22, 2021: The Greatest Mistake of My Life by Holding Absence

*Bandcamp here

Did you know that The Greatest Mistake of My Life takes its name from a song from the 1930s? When lead vocalist Lucas Woodland gave his grandmother a copy of Holding Absence’s self-titled debut album on vinyl, she remarked that it was the second vinyl recording done by anyone in the family. She then told him that his great-uncle “went into Cardiff one day and recorded himself singing. It was like the equivalent of a photo booth where they press it on a small 7’ record and it would have been cheap as hell. She said that it was a song called ‘The Greatest Mistake Of My Life’. So I quizzed her a bit more and all she could remember was the lyric, ‘The greatest mistake of my life was saying goodbye to you’.” (Emphasis mine.) Woodland later looked up that lyric online and discovered a 1939 song by Gracie Fields called “The Greatest Mistake of My Life”. Not only did the band decide to name their sophomore album after the song, they covered it and used that cover as the closing track, which is so cool. As Woodland puts it (emphasis mine):

“I think longevity is truly the greatest achievement a band can accomplish. Some of the best albums of all time weren’t popular when they were released. I’d like to think that this music will last a long time. That’s kind of the point of using “The Greatest Mistake of My Life” as a reference. This song is 90 years old! And now some emo kid from Britain has named an album after it! Everyone involved in that original song is probably not around anymore. But that’s part of what makes it cool. So, if in 90 years’ time, a progressive lo-fi jazz trap band wants to name an album after a Holding Absence song, that would be wicked!”

Longevity comes up more than once in interviews, especially with regard to the Gracie Fields song. For example, from Loudwire (emphasis mine):

“This song has definitely made me realize just how special longevity is in every walk of life! Even things as simple architectural history or the etymology of everyday words. Just seeing how small things can trickle through time and what impact they have is really cool and kinda the ultimate goal as somebody trying to create art.”

Holding Absence took inspiration from a wide variety of places; the Gracie Fields song was just the start. According to Woodland, the song “Beyond Belief” is “the band’s attempt to channel The Cure if they were a 2000s Emo band.” (Emphasis mine) Additionally, “‘Afterlife’ was originally inspired by Mipha off of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. It’s because whenever you die, she brings you back to life.” I thought that was so cool. That whole Aesthetic Magazine interview is really good, by the way; if you liked this album, I highly recommend that you give it a read. One thing I learned from that interview is the origin of the ghostly monologues that appear on several of the tracks (emphasis mine):

“This part was recorded by an American actress with a lovely voice. The things she is saying are passages of poetry that I’d written. I kind of paraphrased comments on a Reddit thread which asked “what are the greatest mistakes of your life?” There were loads of comments and I picked three very different ones and turned them into poems. Then we got the actress to speak on the album. It’s kind of meta and over the top if you think about it, but I just liked the idea of no one having to listen to this album alone. This woman is always there and processing things with you. She’s one of the whispers at the beginning of the album and is also at the end.”

Isn’t that so interesting? Anyway, The Greatest Mistake of My Life has been getting rave reviews and for good reason. There was something in particular that Kerrang said that stuck with me (emphasis mine):

“During the past year, many have tripped over themselves to label certain albums the perfect distillation of the times we’re in. The Greatest Mistake Of My Life is prime for consideration. At a point when our world has been reduced to the walls around us and our thoughts have turned inwards, to lives we may have only half lived before the pandemic began, it’s a document that reminds us not to short change ourselves and seek the happiness we deserve before it’s too late. Nowhere is this sentiment more explicitly captured than ‘Die Alone (In Your Lover’s Arms)’, which agonisingly laments a life spent with the wrong person.”

“[...] to lives we may have only half lived before the pandemic began.” What a fantastic way to put it. Listen to The Greatest Mistake of My Life today!

If you’d like to get involved with stopping the atrocities against Palestine, here’s where you can start (text in bold for readability):

This Carrd is full of information, petitions, and places to donate.

Here are some organizations to which you can donate. This post now includes a list of corporations to boycott.

Here is some information about the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund and a list of other organizations.

This is a list of actions you can take (somewhat UK-specific). This is a reading list of texts with more background information.

UK petitions: This is a petition for the UK government to formally recognize the State of Palestine. This is a petition to introduce sanctions against Israel. This is a petition to condemn Israel for their treatment of Palestine and Palestinians.

Here’s the Wikipedia overview of the current iteration of the crisis.

If you’re curious about the United States’s involvement: this is a report about U.S. foreign aid to Israel. This is the Wikipedia page for Palestine-United States relations and this is the Wikipedia page for Israel-United States relations.

Here are some perspectives from on the ground in Gaza. This is also explains why spreading the Palestinian point of view. is so important.

This is one Jewish person’s explanation of the conflation of Jewish identity with the modern Israeli state. They mention the Nakba, which is important – per Wikipedia, “the Nakba, […] also known as the Palestinian Catastrophe, was the destruction of Palestinian society and homeland in 1948, and the permanent displacement of a majority of the Palestinian people.”

Black lives matter and here are some ways you can get involved in the  fight against racism, specifically anti-black racism (text in bold for readability):  

This Linktree and this Carrd are full of ways to confront and fight against anti-black racism: places to donate, advice for protesting, educational resources.

This post is specifically about Daunte Wright and how to help his family. This is Daunte Wright’s memorial fund.

The  Minnesota Freedom Fund is doing good work, and since so many people have been recognizing that work and donating to them, they ask that you  instead donate to Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence, the Racial Justice Network, Communities United Against Police Brutality, the Minneapolis NAACP, the Council on American-Islamic Relations in Minneapolis, and the Black Immigrant Collective. You can also donate to the Bail Project, which operates in multiple states.

Other organizations to which you can donate are the Black Trans Advocacy Coalition, the NAACP, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, the Okra Project, the Solutions Not Punishment Collaborative, For The Gworls, G.L.I.T.S., the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, the Black Trans Travel Fund, the Sylvia Rivera Law Project, and the Black Trans Femmes in the Arts Collective.

GoFundMe: Justice for Breonna Taylor, In Memory of Jamarion Robinson, Rent Fund For Black LGBT Family, Esperanza Spalding’s BIPOC Artist Sanctuary, Help the Williams Family Get a Set of Wheels, Survival and Gender Affirming Needs for Black Enby

(via https://open.spotify.com/album/4qY3S2Iz6VpAa2EzhWkrpo?si=m1iGdkTwRFWZk1Lv_3H_BQ)

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 8

When Aeduan’s old partner shows up, he is confronted with a shocking piece of news.  Meanwhile, Iseult learns that not talking is just as hard as talking.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

“You surprise me, partner.”

Aeduan’s jaw ticced.  He didn’t need to look to know who was behind him.

“Never did hear where you ended up.  Not that I asked.”

Slowly, Aeduan turned to face Lizl.  She hadn’t changed since he left the force.  Her dark hair was pulled in a single tight braid, not a hair out of place, leaving her amber brown face bare.  Her badge gleamed against her policeman’s uniform, shiny, like she’d polished it the night before.  Aeduan knew that she did.  They’d been partners, after all.

As tall as Aeduan was, Lizl was taller.  He rolled his gaze upward, expression flat.  She was grinning smugly at him, like she’d caught him in a more nefarious act than buying coffee.

“What, no hug?” she asked innocently.

Aeduan didn’t react.  “What do you want, Lizl?”

“A cup of coffee.”  She folded her arms across her chest.  Her posture was deceptive in its casualness.  In the 14 years he’d known Lizl, he’d come to know that there wasn’t a relaxed bone in her body.  “Turns out this place runs a good bargain.”  She gestured to him.  “Free refills and a floorshow.”

Lizl’s gaze fell to Owl in his arm and Aeduan watched her expression soften.  She may have hated Aeduan’s guts, but there were lines she wouldn’t cross.  She wouldn’t pull any shots in front of a child.  She held herself to a strict moral code that wasn’t just reserved for convicts.  It was one of the things Aeduan respected most about her.  

That didn’t mean he had to like her, though.

Aeduan glanced over at the coffee counter.  Iseult hadn’t come back yet and some of the tension he’d been holding since Lizl’s surprise appearance loosened.  That kid was probably still talking her ear off and for that, he was grateful - even if that did mean she was suffering.  He didn’t want her to see him with a cop.  For some reason, he cared about what she would think.  He didn’t know why, but he did.

“What do you want, Lizl?” he demanded again more firmly.  

“Nothing.  You’re about the last person I’d ever want to run into,” she answered, a little of her casual exterior slipping.  There was a hint of sourness in her tone.  Her jaw clenched and unclenched with her lips pressed firmly shut as they stared at each other.  

“So,” she finally said.  “Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Is what everything I’d hoped it would be?” Aeduan asked, more bored than curious.

“Life without the badge.”  Lizl paused.  “Or your daddy’s leash.”

So much for that strict moral code.

Aeduan swiped his coffee cup off the counter and, without so much as a glance at Lizl, marched to the door and left the cafe.  There were lines Aeduan wouldn’t cross in front of Owl too.  If he’d stayed, he might forget that.  Besides, he didn’t owe her anything.  If anything, he’d done her a favor by walking away - from police force and right now.

It didn’t take long for the bells above the door to Jitters to jingle again.

“I just don’t get it,” Lizl voice knifed through the cold.  It had started to flurry.  “That job was your life.  You were in your dad’s pocket.  Set to make detective.  Become head of the department when Bastien retired.  Why throw it all away?”

“Why do you care?” Aeduan snarled, pivoting and getting right up in her face.  He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Owl.

Lizl frowned, not the least bit phased by him invading her personal space.  “I don’t care.  I’m just- confused.  You could have had everything.”

“And with me out of the way you can have everything.  That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?  Make detective, have a shot at the promotion.”  Lizl only stared stonily at him and Aeduan shook his head, expelling some of his frustration and replacing it with exasperation.  “I don’t know why you're angry at me.  We were never friends.”

Lizl nodded.  “Just partners.”

“Exactly.  So what is the problem?  I thought you’d be happy that I left.”

A bitter laugh burst from Lizl’s mouth.  “Happy?”  She shook her head at the ground and dug her boot heel into the concrete, leaving little half moons in the thin layer of snow coating the sidewalk.  She buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.  She seemed to be weighing her options - over what Aeduan had no idea.  He just watched, waiting.  When Lizl looked up, she was grinning, but there was no amusement in it.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Aeduan’s insides went cold.  “What are you talking about?”

Lizl looked off to the side.  Something had shifted.  The hostility was gone.  She just shook her head like she couldn’t get over whatever it was she was about to say.  Eventually, she looked him dead in the eye.  

“I didn’t make detective.”

A line wedged itself between Aeduan’s eyebrows.  He didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but he hadn’t expected that.  With or without Aeduan in her way, Lizl was a shoe-in for the job, a star cadet all throughout their time at the academy, second only to Aeduan.  No one worked harder than she did.  Her not making detective was… inconceivable.  

For the first time in months, Aeduan felt the heady rush of a facing puzzle itching to be solved.  There had to be some ulterior motive on the line here.  She wasn’t giving him the full picture.  

“And I didn’t get the promotion.”

Aeduan’s spine straightened.  He didn’t like the way Lizl was looking at him.  She was still wearing that awful smile that wasn’t a smile.  It set his nerves on edge.  

“Would you like to know who your father picked for the job?”

Aeduan found himself tensing, bracing for the answer without asking to be told.  

“Natan fon Leid.”

Natan fon Leid.  It took a whole 5 seconds for the name to sink in.  He’d grown into quite the impressive egotistical prick, having been a bully all of Aeduan’s childhood.  He’d never really understood how or why the jerk was stationed in the Domestic Violence Unit.  He wasn’t exactly a drain on the department, but as far as he could tell, there wasn’t an altruistic bone in Natan’s body.  The thought of him running the DVU was unsettling to say the least.

And complete bullshit.

“My father,” Aeduan said, doing nothing to keep the venom out of his voice, “would never replace Bastien with Natan fon Leid.  Bastien was a man of honor.  Integrity.  Natan is nothing more than a power hungry lapdog.”

“I agree,” Lizl responded without blinking an eye.  “And now he’s your father’s lapdog.”

Aeduan’s chest puffed out.  He hated the way his blood boiled at even the slightest mention of his father, even though they weren’t speaking - even though he had every right to despise him.  He still couldn’t temper the urge to come to his defense.  And that angered him even more - maybe more than anything Lizl had to say.  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out coldly.  There wasn’t much else he could do with Owl curled into his chest.

“Ask him,” Lizl simply replied, ununciating each word crisp and cool.  It sounded more like a challenge than a suggestion.

He’d do no such thing.  

Aeduan had never been crazy enough to carry around some fancy notion that being partners had meant anything to Lizl.  She’d never liked him.  Hated him, even.  But they’d worked alongside each other for years and never let their personal feelings get in the way of justice.  

The snow was coming down in earnest now.  Owl stirred in Aeduan’s arm breaking the tension for them.  Lizl’s expression went blank and after a couple seconds of grudging deliberation, she gestured resignedly to her squad car parked by the sidewalk.

“Do you want a ride?” she asked.  She sounded tired, like she already knew the answer.

Aeduan didn’t reply.  He didn’t say goodbye.  He just turned away from Lizl and left her standing on the sidewalk.  There was nothing left to say.  Not to her, at least.

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

The new Fiona Apple album thrumming through Iseult's earbuds was doing nothing to cover up the lively debate going on in her head.

For what felt like the first time in forever, Iseult wasn’t working in the Children’s Room, but rather shelving books upstairs as she once used to.  She should have been relieved.  She could finally have a quiet evening without the stress of worrying about patrons coming up to her with questions or children unexpectedly popping up between bookshelves.  

But she wasn’t relaxed.  She couldn’t relax, in fact.  No, instead, she was torturing herself over whether or not to call Aeduan.

Leave it to her to let a complete stranger ruin her evening of peace.  She still carried his phone number from their encounter at Jitters yesterday in the safety of her pocket, and even though the first thing she'd done when she got to work was find his book, she had yet to get in touch with him.  

She’d said she would, so she should.  But with each hour that passed, it was growing more and more late, and the window of opportunity to call was getting smaller by the second.  Surely Aeduan would still be up.  But as the clock approached 9, she found herself wishing she had mustered the courage to call him during the day when it was still light outside.

For Iseult, nighttime meant winding down.  Eating leftover Arithuanian takeout right out of the carton in her monkey slippers and fuzzy bathrobe.  Curling up with a book and falling asleep mid-paragraph with the light on.  

But this was Veñaza City and she was some weird anomaly.  While she was nose-deep in Joan Didion, some twenty-something year old was taking their third shot of the evening before heading out to a party.  While she was setting her phone alarm for 6 a.m., someone was texting their hook-up.  While her and Safi fought over who got to take a shower first in the morning, someone was getting thrown out of a bar.

Veñaza was a college town and it was no secret to Iseult that she was living a much less thrilling life than her former peers.  While normally that wouldn’t bother her (why submit herself to the experience of doing jello shots when the option to eat a jello cup and not throw up was right there?), wondering if Aeduan shared her nightime habits made her feel self-conscious.  He may have had a kid, but that didn’t make him a monk.

She thought about what it would be like dialing his number and him picking up, his voice deep and rough sounding on the other end of the phone.  A shiver ran through her.  Then nausea.

She couldn’t do it.  

Late night phone calls were reserved for hook-ups or emergencies.  Not librarians.

She sighed.  She was left with two choices:

She could call first thing in the morning.  While she had just spent the last hour wondering what Aeduan did at night, this option brought with it another dilemma: how Aeduan spent his mornings.  Iseult didn’t know why, but he seemed like the type of guy to start his day early.  Down a glass of orange juice, go for a jog around the neighborhood, and be showered and dressed by 7:30 kind of guy.  

Iseult shook her head.  She really didn’t need to be fantasizing about his morning routine.  And she definitely didn’t need to think about him showering.  Nope.  She definitely wasn’t thinking about him naked and dripping with water.

Stasis, Iseult.  Stasis.

Then there was the more tempting and pathetic option: she could scrap calling him altogether.  And what great loss would that be really? she thought to herself.  It wasn’t like he was sitting by the phone waiting for her call.  He probably didn’t even remember asking for the book or giving her his number in the first place.  Her stomach dropped at the thought.

She was overthinking this.  Big time.

She rolled back to their conversation yesterday and how Cam had interrupted them.  She was sure that Aeduan had been about to ask her something just as Cam burst through the door.  She didn't hold it against the kid, but she was dying to know what Aeduan was going to say.  And then, of course, there was the mystery of the cop.  She'd seen them talking outside.  By the looks of it, it wasn't a friendly chat.  It had ended with Aeduan storming off and the woman cop looking troubled.

Iseult slipped a hand into her pocket and dug out the napkin with Aeduan’s phone number.  She unfolded it and looked it over, just as she had the dozen or so times since he’d given it to her.  By now she’d memorized the 12 neat letters strung together in broken cursive underneath the number.  Aeduan Amalej.  

A pulled in a shaky breath and retrieved her phone next.  For a paralyzing moment, she held them out in front of her, the number in one hand and her phone in the other.  Thinking.  Stalling.  

“Moon Mother, you are such an idiot,” she muttered to herself before unlocking her phone - her hand shaking with nerves - and punched in Aeduan’s number.

Right into a new text message.

Ok, so she’d told him he’d call him.  But this way she didn’t need to find out just how devastating her stutter be over the phone.  With her sanity hanging in the balance, copping out of calling was of little consequence.  There were way more pathetic things she’d done in her 21 years of living.  This wouldn’t be a highlight in her memoirs.  

With that in mind, she got to it and prayed that she typed faster than her determination could devolve into an entirely new spiral about whether or not a text was too casual.

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan knew he was in trouble the moment he opened the book.  

Chapter One

My Father Meets the Cat

Owl’s eyes had widened as Adeuan read the words and she’d peered up at him from her place under his arm nestled into his side.  

It had taken every bit of restraint he had to keep his expression neutral.  The librarian just had to pick a book that featured a stray cat.  

Iseult had been right though: Owl loved the book.  Every night for the last week, Owl would crawl into his bed, make her nest, and sit there, impatiently waiting for him to finish meditating and running through his nightly stretches.  He made sure to take his time; he wasn’t about to teach Owl that she could get anything she wanted just by giving him those sad puppy eyes of hers.  He'd had plenty of practice resisting those eyes with Cora, who as a little more needy than Lisbet; Owl was powerless over him.  Most of the time.

Meditation was an important, albeit unexpected, part of Aeduan’s life.  It was the one lesson from Evrane that actually stuck.  Sometimes he wondered why, out of everything, this one practice never wavered.  Over the years, it had become more than a ritual in calming the body and quieting the mind.  It had become his anchor.  Something he depended on.  Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that how he started and ended his day was the one thing he had true control over.  He'd been taught early in life that there was no prelude to change.  If he could hold on to this one thing, he would.    

Luckily for Owl, he was done with meditating for tonight.  Even with his years of practice, he hadn’t found much solace in it.  He couldn’t get what Lizl told him yesterday out of his head.

He had told himself to forget about it the moment he’d walked away.  That the police department wasn’t his problem anymore.  He’d left for a reason, and even if he tried to convince himself that it was all because of Owl, he knew deep down that that wasn’t true.

Storming away from Lizl had felt good.  Right.  But now…

Doubt plagued his every thought.  He couldn’t shake it off.  This feeling that Lizl was telling the truth.  They’d never liked each other, but he knew that - just like him - she respected him enough to trust him on the job.  He saw it in the moments that mattered most.  She was one of the good ones.

And the fact remained that Lizl wasn’t a manipulator.  It wasn’t in her nature.  Why bother with mind games when honesty landed harder?  There really wasn’t any reason for her to lie to him.  So that meant what she’d told him was the truth.

But why?  Why would his father give Natan the job?  He was an unmitigated piece of shit and Ragnor had always shown very little tolerance for unmitigated pieces of shit.  If his father had promoted Natan to the top spot, then he had a reason.  A good one.  

He should just forget it, he told himself for the hundredth time.

For the next half hour, Aeduan found his mind wandering, even as he read aloud, and it was some time before he realized that Owl had drifted off to sleep.  

He sighed, letting his head drop against the headboard, and the book propped up in his hand fell closed against the comforter with a soft thwump.  He stared at the opposite wall, knowing he should transfer Owl to her own bed before it got any later, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move.    

Lizl.  Ragnor.  Natan.  Their names were an endless chant in his head.  A chant that rang of doubt and the promise of another sleepless night for Aeduan.    

There was only one way to put an end to the madness.  He’d need to go directly to the source: his father.

The thought alone was enough to make Aeduan want to slide down his mattress and pull the covers over his head.  He didn’t, of course.  But the impulse was there, as embarrassing as that was.  

It’d been 3 long months since he’d last seen his father.  3 months since he’d marched into his office, left his gun and badge on his desk, and walked out of his life.  Ragnor hadn’t even tried to get in touch with him since.  Aeduan hadn’t expected him to.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.  Hurt, probably.  His father’s silence was louder than most.  But Aeduan was the last bit of Dysi left on this earth.  Had it been easy for his father to let go of his only son?  He’d done that with everything else that reminded him of Dysi after she’d passed, so why not him too?

Pressure pounded behind Aeduan’s eyes.  His head ached.  Not getting more than an hour or two of sleep the night before must have been catching up to him.  Maybe he’d just let Owl stay in his bed.  If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to be alone right now.

A soft chime broke the silence in the bedroom.  Curious, Aeduan turned to his nightstand where the sound had come from.  His phone softly glowed with activity and he could see the animated little envelope on the screen that meant he had a new text message.  Careful not to disturb Owl, he reached for the phone and grabbed it from the stand.  He settled back against his pillows, expecting to see something from Lisbet, the only person he had the patience to text with - even if she did bombard him with memes he didn’t understand.  Before even opening the message, he was all ready to tell her to get off her phone and go to bed.

But it wasn’t Lis.

It was an unknown number.  He frowned.  But then he read the message, and he realized who it was.  His heart stopped.

Unknown Number – 9:07 PM

>> I found the book you wanted.  I put it on hold for you.  You can come pick it up anytime.  

>> (Hi.  This is Iseult from the library.)

Without even realizing it, the noise in Aeduan’s head faded to nothing.  Iseult had said she’d let him know about the book, but he was still surprised to hear from her.  And - he thought, checking the time - so late.  

He reread the message a couple more times before clicking the screen off.  He was about to return his phone to the nightstand when he paused.  

He should probably respond with… something.

Aeduan pulled his hand back, easing back on to his pillows, and opened the message.  His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say.  His eyes flicked to Owl, dead asleep next to him, then he began typing.  

Aeduan - 9:18 PM

>> Ok.

Well.  Ok then.  Obligation fulfilled.

Aeduan took off his reading glasses and stowed them along with his phone on his nightstand before he switched off the lamp, plunging the room in darkness.  He settled beneath his covers and rested his head on his pillow.  He felt the ball of warmth that was Owl curled up beside him.  Moonlight streamed in from the windows, and for a few quiet minutes, he watched the snow falling outside.

An hour later, Aeduan rolled over and reached for the phone on his nightstand.

Aeduan - 10:16 PM

>> I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.      

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: Sticky Fingers

In April 1971, the Rolling Stones released their 12th studio album, Sticky Fingers. The recording of this album would mark new territory for the band in a lot of ways. Sticky Fingers would be the first album that had absolutely no participation from the late Brian Jones. This would be the first album released on their new label, Rolling Stones Records. The record would be the first major effort from new guitarist,Mick Taylor. He had participated on the previous album, but on a limited basis. The timing of the album was important as well because it would be the first major work from the band since the disaster at Altamont Speedway. Many things had changed in music since the new decade began.

An important factor that played a large part in the recording of the album was the fact that the band had tremendous tax issues at the time. They had learned that their manager Allen Klein had not been paying their taxes, even though he told them he was doing so. This meant that each member of the band owed quite a bit of money in back taxes to the government. Mick Jagger would later say, “I just didn’t think about taxes and no manager I ever had thought about it, even though they said they were going to make sure my taxes were paid. So after working for seven years I discovered nothing had been paid and I owed a fortune.” One of the first steps came in the band firing Allen Klein. Yet, this did little to minimize their money issues because unbeknownst to the band they had signed over copyrights in America to all their 1960’s material. Klein’s company Abkco Records now held ownership and received all royalties for their music. This financial catastrophe meant that they needed to release new music in order to make any money from the recordings. For this reason, Rolling Stones records was created to begin the process of getting the band out of debt. They needed to retain ownership of their music in order to maximize any kind of profit. After detaching themselves from Allen Klein, Prince Rupert Loewenstein was hired as the group's new financial manager. Looking back now, they finally found someone that would not rob them blind. Atlantic Records was hired to license all of their music, while Marshall Chess of Chess Records would handle the business side of the label. They seemed to trust his background as the president of a hardworking blues label more than anything else. There was a lot riding on this album financially for the band because if it did not sell, then things would go from bad to worse for each member personally.

The recording of Sticky Fingers actually began during their tour of the United States in 1969. They made a visit two muscle Shoals in Alabama because some of their favorite music was recorded there. During this time, the band recorded three songs, “Brown Sugar,” “Wild Horses,” and “You Gotta Move.” Keith Richards with later talk about those sessions in an interview. “The session] one of the easiest and rockingest sessions we’d ever done. I don’t think we’ve been quite so prolific… ever. Those sessions were as vital to me as any I’ve ever done. I mean, all the other stuff we did – ‘Beggars Banquet’, ‘Gimme Shelter’, ‘Street Fighting Man’, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ – I’ve always wondered that if we had cut them at Muscle Shoals, if they might have been a little bit funkier.” Yet, the recording of the album would take more than a year. The band did not reconvene for more tracks until March 1970 at Mick Jagger‘s estate, Stargroves. He did not have a studio in his house, but instead they used a mobile recording unit. They would use the same thing on the next album, which essentially carried around in a van all the equipment in the sound booth at a recording studio. This unit also allowed the band to record any musicians that just stopped by for a visit. One reason the album took so long was because the material they made during this period was so outstanding. If a song did not end up on Sticky Fingers, then they decided to use it for Exile on Main Street.

Unlike their other releases, this album embodied straight rock and roll. They did not experiment with country, gospel, or anything else for this record. Looking at it in hindsight, this is precisely why people love this album, while critics had mixed reactions about it. The one thing the band did introduce with this album was their new guitarist Mick Taylor. He became a revelation musically because Taylor stood out as the most technically skilled guitarist in the band's history. Keith Richards even said in an interview that the guitar part on “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” could not be played by him. The guitarist also brought a much more melodic guitar as opposed to Brian Jones previously. This would not be the Rolling Stones, if they did not have any issues at all in the recording of the album. During this time, Keith Richards began to gradually descend into complete and utter heroin addiction. At times, he was so intoxicated during recording they had to abandon completely certain takes. The delay of the album probably had much more to do with his heroin addiction, rather than the amount of material they were producing. Richards would later comment on why he began using the drug. “It was] the periods with nothing to do that got me into heroin. It was more of an adrenaline imbalance. You have to be an athlete out there, but when the tour stops, suddenly your body don’t know there ain’t a show the next night. The body is saying, ‘What am I gonna do, leap out in the street?’ It was a very hard readjustment. And I found smack made it much easier for me to slow down very smoothly and gradually.” At one point during the recording, things got so bad that Mick Jagger filled in for him on the song “Moonlight Mile.” At no point previously would that have even been imagined. This would become quite the conundrum for the band considering the fact that they had just fired Brian Jones for this exact reason. Another interesting aspect of Sticky Fingers was the fact that Gram Parsons did a country version of “Wild Horses” one year before the album was even released for his band. There exist differing accounts on how it all transpired. Jagger and Richards were totally fine with the release of the song. Before his death, Parsons would say in interviews that the song was a gift to him for helping them with country rock songs like “Country Honk” on Sticky Fingers and Let It Bleed. The track is very different from the one the band released, and some critics even argue that the Parsons version is better.

One of the things about Sticky Fingers is that the art associated with the album became just as important as the music. Andy Warhol designed the cover of the album, which was a pair of pants with a working zipper. The first albums had the zipper pull all the way down to reveal white underwear. These albums are collectors items today because they eventually had to switch to a plain photograph. The metal from the zippers was damaging the records when they were stacked in trucks to be delivered. Unfortunately, nobody really knows for sure who the model is on the cover of the album. Some have suspected that it is Joe Johnson, the brother of Warhol's lover at the time. The other iconic piece of art released with this album came in the introduction of the Rolling Stones signature tongue. This has become the most recognizable image for their brand. You probably cannot live in this country without having seen it at least once. The inspiration for it came to Jagger via calendar he owned about Indian culture. “I was looking for a logo when we started Rolling Stones Records. I had this calendar on my wall, it was an Indian calendar, which you’ll see in Indian grocery stores, and it’s the goddess Kali, which is the very serious goddess of carnage and so forth. And she has, apart from her body, this tongue that sticks out. So I took that to John Pasche and he ‘modernized’ it somewhat.”

Upon its release, critics had very mixed reactions towards the album. The main flaw that some found it possessing came in the fact that it underwhelmed. This issue represented what these critics have come to love about the band's more recent efforts. On Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed, the Stones had experimented quite a bit with their sound venturing off into new areas. Yet, Sticky Fingers did not go in those places, but instead stayed fairly close to basic rock and roll. This emerges as an age old story with a lot of bands. You must do something different in order to impress the critics because they will often say I have already listened to that. The album became the band's most popular one to date as it went number one in both England and America. That fact should actually be the true testament on how good the band's album is overall.

[animeniacss]

I’m Always Here For You - Yoongi x Ami (One-shot)

Synopsis: No matter the time, the distance, or the problem, Ami is certain to be by the side of Min Yoongi until the very end. 

Genre: Fluff, Established Relationship with ARMY, Cannon following, Comfort story, one-shot

Length: approx. 1.7k words 

I’m Always Here For You - Yoongi x Ami [One-Shot]

“Yoongi?” They chimed, poking their head into the entryway of the apartment. There was no answer at first, and Ami’s brows furrowed together. “Yoongi? Are you home?” They called again. Now, stepping into the apartment, closing and locking the door, they scanned the area. This wouldn’t be the first the Ami was in the apartment when Yoongi was out working, however, they didn’t expect him to be out right now. He had just come back from vigorous preparation for their upcoming November album duties, such as filming the music video, preparing their teaser photos, and preparing the choreography for upcoming music show performances. Ami knew Yoongi’s schedule well, they made sure they did because they never wanted him to overwork himself when he did not have to. So, Ami decided to show up at the apartment and surprise him with dinner. “I brought some burgers,” Ami called out again, holding up the bag in their grip. Still, no answer. Sighing, Ami slid off their shoes and strode fully into the apartment.

Ami rested the bag of food on the table, with the intent that it would be eaten later. Finally, they headed towards the back of the apartment, towards the bedroom in the corner where Yoongi would spend his nights. As they walked over to the door, they knocked quickly. “Yoongi?” They finally called again. This time, instead of silence, they were met with a frustrated groan, a muffled one. They raised an eyebrow, opening the door and pushing it open. Upon entering the bedroom, they looked around it. The room, despite Yoongi never being around, needed some tidying up. The hamper in the corner was almost filled to the brim with clothes, so much so that a few random articles of clothes were laying on the floor beside it. Pictures of Yoongi and his bandmates decorated the corner dresser, spanning from pre-debut pictures to modern-day photos. Regardless of when the years were taken, nothing but chaotic love emanated through those pictures every time someone looked at them.

As Ami’s eyes finally laid onto Yoongi, they saw him curled up, shirtless under the covers of his bed. His back was to her as if he was just turned over in his sleep. As Ami walked over, they saw Yoongi’s hand draped over his shoulder, gripping it tightly. A small frown fell on Ami’s face. They knew exactly what was wrong.

“Is it your shoulder?” they asked softly, as they moved to sit on the side of the bed.

“Mhm…” Yoongi mumbled softly. “It started flaring up in the middle of dance practice.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“I mentioned it during our break. Namjoon told me I could sit out and rest, but we were almost done, so there was no reason to stop.” Ami let out a soft sigh, Yoongi’s dedicated spirit never once being fanned out by pain.                

“Did you at least take pain killers?” They asked softly. Yoongi nodded.

 “A few hours ago.” He admitted.

“Do you want me to get some more?” Just as Ami was about to get up, Yoongi slowly sat up straight, alerting their attention back to him. He sighed, reaching his hand out to take their hand gently in his.

“Too soon…” he said. “Gimme a few more hours, then I’ll take another.” Ami didn’t look convinced, and Yoongi immediately noticed. He always immediately noticed. So, he lifted their hand to his lips, pressing it gently there in an attempt to reassure her. “Ami-ah, how many times do I need to say not to furrow your brows like that? You’ll get wrinkles at such a young age.” Ami could only laugh a little bit at his comment. “Just stay here with me, that’ll help enough.”

“Okay…” They hummed softly. Yoongi shifted in bed, his hand once again going up to rub his shoulder, wincing at the pain that was coursing through his veins. Ami sighed, deciding to move onto the bed, positioned so they were behind Yoongi, his back exposed to her. Yoongi tried to crane his head to see what on earth they were doing, only to watch as Ami rested their hand against the shoulder. The touch was gentle, almost non-existent, for fear of adding too much pressure and only increasing Yoongi’s ongoing pain. Their fingers gently glided up and down in that one spot, and Yoongi let out a soft sigh. “Am I hurting you?” Ami asked.

“No…” Yoongi said softly. “No, it’s kind of relaxing actually.” When he chuckled, Ami felt a smile across their lips. They gently leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. It was in no way to be erotic, in no way to do anything other than heal. All Ami wanted was to remove all of Yoongi’s pain with one, gentle kiss, and fill it with only love. A kiss could only do so much, however, so they peppered a few gentle ones in the same area. “Hm, that tickles, you know.” He said gently.

“Heh, I know,” Ami said softly, once against replacing their lips with a gentle touch. Since filled the room for a minute, and Ami could feel Yoongi’s once tense muscles finally begin to relax. “Have you ever thought of getting some surgery done?” They asked softly, eyes glancing up at the back of Yoongi’s head. A sigh escaped Yoongi’s lips, his body shaking a bit from the force of the exhale.

“I…go in for it in a few days. A bunch of doctors told me that I should get the surgery done sooner rather than later.” He said softly. Ami’s eyes widened slightly. “I was going to tell you, but I had to admit…I got a bit nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?” They hummed softly, hand now resting gently over his shoulder. Yoongi’s hand raised to overlap it, his thumb gliding over the back of Ami’s hand. “That’s great news. This could help you start to heal.”

“…I didn’t want you to be upset,” Yoongi said softly. You frowned a bit and saw Yoongi’s head drop just slightly. “Once this surgery is done, I won’t be able to promote the new album with everyone.” As Ami listened, Yoongi turned himself slightly to be able to look at them. “It’ll be the first time in 7 years I’ve done something like this.”

“Yoongi-ah…” Ami sighed softly, running a hand along with his black hair. “This is important. Everyone will understand, and everyone will support you.” Despite Ami’s words, they could see Yoongi’s eyes filled with guilt, filled with the idea that when fans turned on Inkigayo and Music Bank, only 6 of their 7 favorite boys would be ready to perform. “I know I will.” Yoongi chuckled a bit at that last comment, his head lolling slightly to rest in Ami’s comforting palm.

“I know.” He said. “I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

“I know, but when you recover, every one of your fans will still be there to support and cheer you on anyway.” Yoongi didn’t respond, so Ami kept going. “You’ve already done a lot this entire year, even with everything going on. You released a whole second mixtape, you’ve done collaborations with wonderful artists, you performed online concerts, and you guys reached Billboard Hot 100 with a song! All this was during a global pandemic, let’s not start on all the promoting of the first comeback you made before that. You’ve done so much; you deserve to rest yourself.” Yoongi knew Ami was right, they always were when it mattered. “Besides, you had a wonderful life with everyone just recently.”

 “I know. I wanted to play the guitar for everyone one more time before my surgery. Won’t be able to do much of anything for a while…” Yoongi carefully rolled his shoulder, and when he winced, Ami placed her hand quickly onto his shoulder. “Fuck…” He grumbled.

“Careful…” Ami gasped softly. Yoongi looked down at them, watching as their hand returned to its motion of rubbing his shoulder. He sighed, resting his head on Ami’s shoulder. A smile graced their lips, and they were quick to embrace Min Yoongi in a loving embrace.

 “I’m sorry…” he said softly.

“Never apologize,” Ami assured quickly. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, continuing to enjoy their time with each other for now, while they had some time to share. So many instances recently had prevented them from seeing each other as much as they would have wanted, but they knew that distance only made the heart grow fonder. Just as they had for the past 7 years, Ami and Yoongi knew that they would be able to make it through whatever they needed to to be happy. “…Do you want to eat dinner?” Ami asked softly, running a hand through his hair. Yoongi sighed. “Afterwards, you get some rest and I’ll straighten things up for you around here.” 

Yoongi immediately looked at the full hamper in the corner of his room. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good.” He said, lifting his head and running a hand through his slightly messy hair. Ami offered him a smile, standing up from the bed and gently taking his hand. Yoongi gently held it on his own, following Ami out the room. “…I love you…” Yoongi said softly.

Ami turned to him as she stood in the bedroom doorway, eyes slightly wide in the surprise of the sudden words. Yoongi was relatively closed off with his feelings, he wouldn’t often express them directly with words, but more so with actions. His desire to be held, to be comforted by Ami, the desire to work through his condition despite his better judgment because he knew the heartbreak it could give Ami, those were the ways he showed his love. Ami smiled a bit, gripping his hand tightly.

“I love you too, Min Yoongi~. I’ll be here for you for as long as you need me to be.

Ami intended to always be there, as Yoongi came home from his surgery, sleeping silently in his bed, his body flowing with pain killers, Ami was sure to stay nearby. Ami straightened up his clothes, cleaned up his home, made sure the rest of the members of BTS were doing well. Ami made sure that when Yoongi woke up, the only thing he needed to focus on was recovering in order to be the best he could be. 

Return to Yoongi’s Stories

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[riparian-philosophy]

A Growing Number of People Are Identifying or Presenting Outside of the Gender Binary – Why?

In the Western world, the gender binary has played a huge role in society. Gender roles have determined how people act, what they wear, what jobs they can get, and even what place they hold in society. Even in modern societies people are punished for going against the gender norms; men are attacked for wearing ‘feminine’ clothing and are often called gay for feeling comfortable in themselves and in expressing how they feel. However, despite this, in recent years the number of people expressing themselves in ways that do not fit the status quo, and doing so openly, have been increasing, and with this increase the number of people who are supportive of this are doing the same. Here, I will be discussing why I think that this is becoming the case.

It is important to note that this is in no way a new phenomenon. Some people have been going against the grain throughout recorded history, although for this topic more modern examples are more easily applicable. In the twentieth century, many ‘celebrity icons’ were seen to be breaking the stereotypes, and in some genres of music men dressing in ‘feminine’ clothing was part of the genre or band’s image. One of the most notable people to have been challenging these norms at this time was music legend David Bowie, who was recognized for incorporating aspects of both masculinity and femininity into his androgynous look, and who also wore a dress on the cover of his album ‘The Man Who Sold the World’. Even then, as aforementioned he is certainly not the earliest example of this idea of ‘breaking the norm’ when it comes to gender, and this outlook of what is expected of people in terms of gender roles is a very Western one.

Many non-Western cultures often have gender systems that work differently to how gender is seen elsewhere, most notably different from mainstream Western culture. Generally, in the Western world, gender is traditionally seen as the same as biological sex of a person at birth (usually characterized by sex characteristics and chromosomes, although this can differ for intersex people), however in recent years the existence of binary transgender (trans men and trans women) people has become more accepted. One of the most well-known examples of cultures where the gender system is different to what we are used to is among Indigenous and Native American communities. The term Two-Spirit is one that is reserved for people within native cultures, who are both masculine and feminine. These people can also have very specific spiritual or societal roles [Gender Identity, University of South Dakota website]. This identity, and many others across other cultures, is rooted in not only their culture but their traditions also. Despite this, they are almost unheard of due to the forced teaching of Western ideals that occurred predominantly due to colonization.

I present this example to prove that Western examples of gender are not inherently ‘correct’. If, for example, these differences were not seen anywhere in the world, and all cultures’ ideas of gender were the exact same, one could make the argument that gender identities, and therefore gender roles, are entirely based on biological sex, however, as there are clear differences seen between cultures, I would instead argue that this link is, at least partially, social. In cultures where it is more accepted to identify and present in ways that go against the idea of a binary gender system, people feel comfortable in openly doing so. This explains why, in today’s society, where it is slowly becoming more acceptable to do such things, more and more people are beginning to comfortably present and identify how they wish.

Another point I will make, before moving on to why it is that I think this change in what is acceptable is occurring, is that this is not the only time such a change in traditional ideas of what is associated with a certain gender has occurred. When thinking about the most stereotypical ideas of what differences there are between the two sexes by societal standards, some of the most obvious I can think of are the following. Blue is for boys; pink is for girls. Boys wear trousers, girls wear dresses. Women should shave and wear makeup to be presentable, but men are not required to shave and are often discouraged to wear makeup. However, these have all been very different at various points in time. The colours blue and pink were first used as gender signifiers at around the 1940s, however prior to this the colours were often not gendered, and in many cases when they were associated with a gender, pink was associated with boys and blue with girls. Skirts were not gendered until reasonably recently also, with men across history wearing skirt-like cloth wraps or forms of kilts. In fact, it is argued that the only reason men stopped wearing skirts is because they were the ones who rode horses most often, and skirts were simply impractical for this purpose. Makeup has been worn by all throughout history, most notably being given to the male workers in ancient Egypt along with ancient skin care products as a form of payments, and also being worn by the nobility for centuries, particularly in eighteenth century France. Women were not required to shave until after the Victorian era of long dressed that would cover all skin, and even then, the only reason that they did was because shaving companies made the realization that they could make more money by targeting razors at the young women who were now wearing clothing that was more revealing.

If these ideas of what is normal are constantly shifting, then why do they play such a large role in societies today? And why are other cultures’ ideas of gender systems being stifled by predominantly white Western cultures? I believe that these realizations are one of the reasons that an increasing number of people are beginning to openly present or identify outside of the norms of the gender binary. As more people become aware that the norms that they are confined to have little to no genuine reasoning behind them, they are beginning to feel less pressured to conform to these roles. The growing number of people at the forefront of popular culture who are also making this realization and are challenging these norms are simply providing a way for people to see that there is nothing wrong with presenting or identifying in a way that is not seen as ‘normal’, and so I believe that this is at least partially responsible for the increasing number of people choosing to break these norms. I also believe that the national lockdowns due to the coronavirus pandemic have played at least some role in this change, particularly in those identifying outside of the gender binary. Nonbinary individuals are in no way new, however the amount of people who have come out as nonbinary in recent times is increasing. I believe that this is because, while stuck inside away from other people, these people have not been subjected to the pressures and judgements of society. They have not had to conform to how they ‘should’ be, and I believe that this time has given many people, particularly young people, a way to reflect on their identity and whether or not they truly fit into what is expected of them. This, along with the more frequent use of the internet due to not being allowed to do ‘normal’ activities in the lockdowns have, in my opinion, hugely impacted young people’s sense of identity in an almost entirely positive way.

In conclusion, I believe that a growing number of people are identifying or presenting in ways that are outside of the gender binary because of a lack of pressures and expectations from the rest of society, and because of a growing understanding that many of these expectations are not formed on any logical or reasonable basis and are instead simply kept up due to outdated traditions which, in this instance, are causing more harm than good. As this is entirely my own opinion, it is important to note that this is not applicable to everyone that identifies or presents in this way and is instead built upon my own beliefs and interpretations of what I have seen around me.

https://www.usd.edu/diversity-and-inclusiveness/office-for-diversity/safe-zone-training/gender-identity

[detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman]

Chapter 5 - Conflicting Directives

Part 5/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,488

Warnings: Swearing (not as much this time), mild suggestive banter, character death, post-loss grieving, descriptions of a car accident and hospitalization.

Genre: Self-insert/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: The day is done and Detective Rachel has gone home. Connor, making earnest on his promise, arrives at her home to make amends. He learns the extent of her loss and trauma and notices strange things about her affect on him. It seemed as though without doing anything, Connor’s software instability increases almost continuously around her, but even more strangely, he’s not bothered by it.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

---------------------------------

Date: November 6th, 2038  Time: 06:34 PM Objective: Find Amanda

Within his mind palace’s zen garden, the RK800 android found himself in once again, prepared to make another report to Amanda, his handler. It was a familiar and peaceful place, with many modern-style bridges that led to the centre of the small lake within.

But first and foremost, the strange device to his left that he always triggered, but never understood why. He was strangely drawn not only to it, but to trigger it. It was like a console with an input for handprint recognition just in front of a circular sculpture-like structure.

He never understood why he triggered it, or why whenever he did, he could feel something constantly shifting. He simply felt compelled to do so.

But nevertheless, he did what he always did, and made his way to the centre, where his trusted handler typically was. The detective android saw her as his mentor, and admitted that there was much he would do for her approval.

Amanda - Trusted He found her standing beneath the tree in the centre, her very dark skin reflected by the bright sun that lit the garden, and her braided hair done up in a tightly wound bun. 

“Hello, Amanda.” Connor greeted.

“Connor, I've been expecting you.” She greeted him in return. “Would you mind a little walk?” 

Connor, giving her a patient and appreciative smile, began following the elegant and poised coloured woman through the garden. “That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case. A pity you didn't manage to capture it...” 

Rachel 🔓

Pragmatic

Explain

No Excuse

“The detective Lieutenant Anderson brought on today nearly had it.” Connor explained. “It managed to slip from her grasp, but I’m certain that the next case will go much more successfully.”

Amanda continued to listen intently, stealing a glance at him from time to time. “Did you manage to learn anything?” She asked him patiently.

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

Birds

“It was fascinated by birds.” Connor answered, Rachel’s emphasis on the nature of the deviant’s connection to the pigeons the most prevalent in the android’s consciousness. “We've seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.”

Amanda nodded. “What else?”

Deviant 🔓

Diary 🔓

Signs On Walls 🔓

“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols.” Connor added, informing his handler of what he saw written and drawn on the walls of the abandoned apartment. “Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9.”

“You came very close to capturing that deviant...” Amanda pointed out. “How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

Saving Hank 🔓

Negative

Ambiguous

Positive

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof.” Connor answered earnestly, continuing to walk with the older woman. “He didn't say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.”

“It would seem that this case has become more complicated, thanks to the involvement of both Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Rachel.” She said slowly. “Having to work with the lieutenant already made this case difficult enough, but the addition of another may compromise your investigation. What do you make of her?”

Indifferent

Sincere

Dismissive

Unsure

Amanda - Trusted v “I think her addition to the case would add great benefit to our progress.” Connor answered in earnest, much to Amanda’s subtle disappointed scowl, indicated only by the smallest twinge in her full lip and narrow of her dark eyes. “She’s incredibly analytical, has a natural instinct for discerning the motives of suspects and a powerful drive. She also has a good rapport with the lieutenant and I consider her insight extremely valuable.”

Amanda’s facial expressions were almost impossible to read, as she most often kept her face entirely neutral. “You know full well that she knowingly allowed the deviants from before to escape.” She pointed out. “What do you think about her attitude towards them?”

Intriguing

Disapproving

Unsure

Indifferent

Amanda - Trusted v “I find her observations intriguing.” Connor answered flatly. “She draws many comparisons to other marginalized groups among humans, ones that I find rather fascinating and insightful. She’s very articulate and adamant in her thoughts regarding them.”

Amanda continued to stare at Connor, her expression stoic and unchanging. “In any case, she has also been officially assigned to the case.” She reminded the android. “If the cause of these outbreaks of deviancy isn’t found, they will wreak havoc. Make certain she does not become a liability.”

Connor nodded. “I understand.”

“We don't have much time.” Amanda’s eyes scanned the surroundings of the Zen Garden before settling on Connor again. “Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it.” She said, putting emphasis on the latter part of that statement. “We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

Connor nodded obediently. “I will solve this investigation, Amanda.” He promised her. “I won't disappoint you.”

Amanda nodded, coming to the end of their walk. “You’d better hurry.” She warned. “I will inform you when we have another case. But until then, get on better terms with your new partner.”

--------

Objective: Make amends with Rachel Rachel - Warm

Leaving the self-driving taxi, Connor stepped up and approached the house. It wasn’t a particularly large house, but it had two levels and a large window to the right side when approaching the front door. As the android approached the house, he stepped up to the door and was about to knock when he heard a sound coming from inside.

Knock

Investigate

Leaning over towards the window, he began examining what was playing inside. It was her, in what looked like a kitchen, smiling. Smiling, dancing, singing, and playing with a large black dog. 

And I'm begging you, bring me back to life. 

I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight. 

It's too late to go. 

Already taken me forever just to try to know. 

Connor quickly matched the song and found it to be an old 2011 song called Stutter from the album Ever After by Mariana’s Trench. She wasn’t dancing in any specific way, simply bouncing on her feet and moving her shoulders in rhythm with her eyes closed. 

One for the money, two for the show, 

three to get ready, and four to go. 

For the life of me, 

I don't know why it took me so long to see.

The way her hair bounced on her shoulders and the way her smile contorted to the lyrics of the song was utterly captivating. She was spontaneous, free, and entirely shameless in her sheer joy. It didn’t even occur to him that he was already recording her so that he could commit this to detailed memory.

I just stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Stutter, stutter, stutter,

Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?

Software Instability ^ Connor realized that he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she was behaving wholly organically as she truly was. This was what she was like in her own time, when it was just herself in her own space. And he would be lying if it wasn’t utterly captivating listening to her sing and watching her dance with such freeform careless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind to get completely lost in her own rhythm. She was making strange flapping motions with her hands and tapping and hitting the counter in various ways to the music which he couldn’t help but find incredibly endearing.

But it didn’t last, as she then locked eyes with him, her brown eyes wide in shock, very much resembling a deer caught in headlights. Not that Connor had ever seen that himself, but he was aware of the phenomenon. After all, there wasn’t very much large wildlife in Detroit, at least not in the city.

She didn’t seem to really be afraid as she sort of just stood there. Connor took that as a good enough reason to step back in front of the door and ring the doorbell.

Although, as soon as he had done that, the music stopped and the rumbles of a deep bark and a loud and boisterous laugh resounded through the house and were audible from where Connor was standing. It was unmistakably hers, but he had never heard her laugh like that. Not with so much energy and force behind it. It was surprising, and it made Connor’s lip twinge in the smallest smile. “Wait!” She ordered, still laughing. 

Software Instability ^ The barking had stopped and the front door was opened to Rachel’s face, still contorted in a wide open-mouthed smile as she was still keeling over in laughter, clutching her diaphragm with her right arm.

Greet

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

“Hello, Rachel.” Connor announced curtly.

“I’m sorry,” the shorter woman said, adjusting her glasses and still trying to work through laughs and giggles, “but did you just ring the doorbell to try and pretend like you totally weren’t just staring at me through my window like a creep?”

Apologize

Tease

Say Nothing

Connor hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He apologized, putting on his typical professional posture and persona. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen you dance or sing before.”

“That’s probably because it would be pretty tone-deaf to just break into song in the middle of a police precinct.” Rachel joked with him, before stepping back a bit, the large black dog stepping between them and sniffing at Connor eagerly. 

Software Instability ^ “That’s Bear, my sweet baby boy. He loves people, he’s an absolute sweetheart.” She cooed in that baby voice many humans used when speaking to or about animals they found cute. “Yes he is! He absolutely is, the sweetest lil’ baby boy in the whole world and the cutest baby ever!” It was a tone of voice Connor couldn’t help but once again smile at as she ruffled at the large dog’s ears, the dog huffing in pleasant excitement. The android quickly identified it as a Newfoundland. They’re dogs that were bred to work in water in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, but more specifically Newfoundland, in Maritime Canada, and often finds use as a canine lifeguard. 

As Connor started petting the large black dog, who was sniffing eagerly at his face, Rachel then turned back to him, having calmed down and was looking at him with an inquisitive look. “Wait, how did you find my house? I forgot to give you the address. Did Hank give it to you?”

Truth

Lie

“No.” Connor replied. “He simply told me that you were going to be busy before you arrived at home. I didn’t think to ask him as I simply searched for it while I was leaving the precinct to depart towards your home.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a smirk that Connor now recognized as typical of her. “Oh, so now you’re also a stalker.” It was a statement that made Connor wonder if he had offended her, but her demeanour and tone of voice seemed to indicate it was nothing more than friendly banter. As she continued further into the room, she then looked back at him, her thick brown eyebrows knitted together in mild bewilderment. “Are...you gonna...come in?”

“I’m sorry, I was waiting for you to give me permission to enter.” He replied politely.

“I’m the one who invited you to my house!” Rachel pointed out with a gesture of her hand and a confused tone to her naturally loud voice. “Just come in, you dork. Take your shoes off and make sure you don’t let Bear out, he tends to chase shit into the street.”

Software Instability ^ He walked inside the house, making sure to close the door behind him, Bear’s tail wagging eagerly before he walked away to lay in what looked like a very comfortable den of blankets and pillows inside of his kennel, which was situated in the corner of the living room. “I’m just going to brew myself some tea.” Rachel called, going back towards the kitchen. “I’m assuming androids don’t eat or drink ‘cause it would probably fuck up their systems, right?”

“Correct.” Connor replied, as he began removing his work shoes with ease. “Androids cannot process the organic materials that humans consume, as it’s not compatible with their biocomponents. Consumption of such materials would indeed damage an android. However, some androids that are designed to work in food can taste what they make so that it’s suitable for a human’s needs. Their systems are specialized so that they can release the materials in the same way humans do.”

“And you, I’m guessing?” Rachel asked, an eyebrow raised. “Since I had the both amusement and disgust of learning about your filthy mouth and where it’s been.”

Software Instability ^ “Correct.” Connor answered. “Due to the nature of my analysis, I’ve also been built to release foreign materials.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Alright, so just tea for me, then.” She said, making her way into the kitchen. “Go ahead and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Connor said curtly as he scanned the room.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home 

He noticed that the walls were painted in very warm colours, dark oranges and rich shades of brown. It was a well-lit space, only further accentuated and magnified by the choice of colours for the interior. The kitchen led to the living room which was the room most adjacent to the large window in front. Around the corner of the wall of the living room was the kitchen and dining room combination, the sliding glass door leading to the backyard to the left of the kitchen and behind the dining room. Against the leftmost wall of the dining room, Connor could see a box that typically contained thirium or other android parts, yet there was no evidence of any working android in the home. He knew she was capable of performing small repairs on androids, but it seemed odd to have android supplies without actually possessing one.

Potentially repairing androids from home?

Connor detected another room behind the kitchen to the left from where he was facing, and peering inside, he could see several musical instruments, including an upright piano, a guitar, a ukulele, and a saxophone.

Rachel has musical interests. 🔓

To the left of the entrance and just before the dining room were the stairs leading up to the second floor, where he assumed Rachel’s bedroom was. Below the stairs was another door, likely storage, and then another that could be walked through. Given the layout Connor was noticing thus far, he concluded it was simply another door leading to the room with the piano in it.

Peering past the hallway next to the stairs was a door at the end. Given the placement of the driveway outside the house, Connor deduced that the door led to the garage. And to the left of that was a washing machine and a dryer, as well as several cupboards and shelves for various cleaning supplies and solutions.

And to the very left of the entrance was a pair of closet sliding doors, of which could be very easily assumed was for jackets, shoes, and other outdoor wear.

Surrounding the house were several photos and other decorations of various animals, most commonly owls of various species.

Rachel has a special interest in ornithology, specifically Strigiformes. 🔓

Alongside the several photographs of owls, there were illustrations of dragons, ranging from the typical four-legged winged dragons most common in pop culture, to other types such as wyverns and even some feathered varieties.

Rachel has a particular fondness for dragons.

In the living room itself, There was a large couch and two matching recliners on either side, a long coffee table seated deliberately in the middle, a remote control situated on it.

In front of the coffee table against the wall was a fireplace, the mantle holding multiple pictures and other decorations. Above the mantle was a large television screen that was switched off. “I’m just gonna put some tunes on! It’s way too quiet for me!” Connor heard Rachel call from the kitchen.

Reply

Say Nothing

“That’s fine!” Connor replied. “I don’t mind.”

The TV turned back on, a music sharing app on the screen as another album began playing. The display read The Saltwater Room, part of the 2008 album Maybe I’m Dreaming by Owl City, also known as Adam Young.

Rachel likes 2000-2020 era music.

As Connor approached to investigate the fireplace mantle, he found several photographs and other items of interest. Lying on one side of the mantle was a photograph of Rachel, a much younger Rachel, with several animals ranging from a small Syrian Hamster, to a black English Cocker Spaniel, to a Crested Gecko. Beside them were more recent photographs, one of Rachel with what appeared to be a photo of Bear as a puppy, and one with a piebald Ball Python snake.

Rachel cares deeply for animals. 🔓

Next to those photos were others of family. Some were rather old and others were more recent. Connor’s searches turned up several family members.

Of her immediate family, her father and her maternal grandmother were both deceased. Her grandmother died in 2025 and her father died in 2029

Several deceased family members.

Connor’s eyes scanned over the other end of the mantle, several decorations on it. Between them were several photographs of Rachel in what appeared to be a custom tailored suit and a veil with another taller and much wider set bearded man wearing glasses, also in a suit. It was clear that this was a wedding. The largest photo in the centre, of the pair of them smiling at the photographer, each other’s hands in the other’s.

In front of the photographs were three sets of rings. The pair on the left side was a size 7 white gold ring with a mythic topaz cut into the shape of a heart next to a size 13 sterling silver ring, the ends made to resemble a semicolon.

The pair on the right was a set of matching black steel rings of the same sizes, the small one reading “His Sally” and the larger one reading “Her Jack.” A search for media containing both the names Sally and Jack produced a stop-motion film from 1993 titled The Nightmare Before Christmas directed by Henry Selick and produced by Tim Burton.

And the pair in the middle was a pair of simple gold rings, of the same sizes. Simple bands, the surfaces engraved. The smaller one reading: “You and I are one...” and the larger one reading: “...now and forever, until the end of time.” Upon closer inspection, a date was engraved on the underside of the rings. August 25th, 2026.

Software Instability ^ Rachel is married.

Connor then turned his attention to the large photos and examined the face of the man posing with Rachel.

He turned up records that her husband, Frank, had died in January 2031.

Rachel is grieving the loss of her husband. 🔓

Having gathered enough information, Connor took a seat over on the large couch in front of the coffee table, patiently waiting for Rachel to be done with her tea.

Wait for Rachel to return Investigate Rachel’s home

“Sorry it took so long.” Rachel apologized before she entered the room, taking a seat on the couch, placing her mug on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. It was a grey mug with the star sign of Scorpio printed on it in white, labeled as such along with the dates Scorpio falls between. Upon analyzing the drink, it appeared to be a black tea blend made of cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, pink peppercorns, cloves, vanilla, and other natural flavouring. 

Also in it was eggnog, likely added by Rachel to give it a more specific flavour and a more creamy texture. “It’s November, so gotta get that more cinnamony fall-flavoured tea. It’s one of my favourite holiday teas, even though it’s a year long tea at David’s Tea where I get it. Saigon Chai is what it’s called. Not much of a fan of it by itself, but with eggnog, it’s fucking amazing. Just, uh, be careful how much eggnog you put in so that you don’t just replace the taste of the tea with eggnog. Can’t stand eggnog by itself either, it’s way too sweet for me.” 

Software Instability ^ She took a sip of it with a contented expression, her eyes closed in bliss as she lingered for a moment just to capture the scent of it. It almost made Connor wish that he’d been built with the ability to detect scents. “So,” she started, making direct eye contact with Connor, her dark eyes intense and yet somehow gentle and patient, “seems like we have some things to clear up between us.”

Connor nodded. “Correct.” He agreed. “But first, I wanted to inform you that Captain Fowler has officially assigned you to the deviancy case alongside Lieutenant Anderson. So from today onward, we’re officially partners.”

Rachel blinked a couple times in surprise, nodding. “Wow, finally a case fucking worth working on.” She sighed, taking another sip of her tea. “I’ve been getting a lot of boring ones or ones that barely take any effort. So, this should definitely be interesting.”

“I certainly hope so.” Connor agreed, winking at Rachel, knowing and earnestly enjoying the brief spike in her heart rate and breath intake that the gesture elicited from her.

Apologize for behaviour Understand Rachel’s reasons

She placed her mug back on its coaster, taking another sigh, before returning her gaze to the android, boring into him. “And?” She pressed.

“And,” Connor repeated, formulating the proper thing to say in this instance, “I wanted to apologize for my recklessness earlier on the highway. I should have considered the distress it would have caused both you and Lieutenant Anderson to see my destruction. And I want you to know that I will take extra precaution to ensure my own safety from now on.”

Rachel nodded, giving Connor an appreciative smile. “Thank you.” She muttered. “That really means a lot to me.”

Apologize for behaviour

The air between them had grown tense, sparking like the hum of a power cable. Connor was contemplating the next best course of action from this point.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Other Models

Nothing

“I’m not certain how well this will lend to your understanding of my decisions,” Connor started, Rachel returning her focus on him, taking another sip of her tea, “but I would like you to know this. When an RK800 model is destroyed, its memory is transferred to the next model. This is so that there is no slow in the investigation and so that it can continue without incident.”

“Well, I kinda figured that.” Rachel responded, much to Connor’s mild surprise. Or at least as close to surprise as he could get. “But that doesn’t matter. Just because you can upload your memories doesn’t mean you don’t die. It doesn’t make you more expendable than me. It just means that someone else has your memories, but it isn’t you.”

Her answers never seemed to fail to perplex and intrigue Connor. And despite knowing his focus should only be on his mission, he couldn’t help but want to know what she had to say. Her insights and philosophies were fascinating to him. She was more like an android than most humans, but more like a human than deviants were, clearly. Though according to her, she didn’t see much of a functional difference between the two.

And that, too, intrigued the RK800 android.

“Why’s that?” Connor asked, wanting to know what her viewpoint was. “If my memory is uploaded into another Connor model who exists to serve the same purpose, wouldn’t we still effectively be the same?”

“It’s not like when you backup a computer and put that data on another.” Rachel replied. “First of all, I doubt it’s as flawless and perfectly done as that usually is. Some data would probably get lost, I bet. And second of all, watching someone die and then show up the next day as if nothing had happened is like seeing a ghost. It’s alarming, unnerving, and it feels wrong and messes a lot with what you know is real and what isn’t. And depending on the way you die, it can be even more traumatic than it would otherwise be, though I’ve never met someone who wasn’t traumatized at the sight of someone else’s death.” She took another sip of tea, her eyes blinking in a way that Connor figured was her recollecting her thoughts in order to stay on-track of them. “And...”

Connor raised an eyebrow at her pause. “And?” He echoed.

She let out a sigh, avoiding meeting Connor’s eyes. “And it wouldn’t be you.” She finished. “It would look like you, sound like you, and maybe even act like you. But it wouldn’t be you. It wouldn’t be the same Connor I had met and protected last night. Or the same Connor I was touring around the precinct. Or the same Connor I was having banter and sharing jokes with a few hours ago.”

Connor was even more confused. “Why would that matter in regards to me?”

Software Instability ^ “Because like it or not, I already care about you and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t want you to die.” Rachel said rather bluntly, her dark eyes half-lidded as she took another sip of tea. “Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing again, but...this morning, we were nothing to each other. I was just another human like thousands of others. And you were just an android like the thousands in circulation. You had no need of me, nor I of you. But it was with the short time spent today, learning about each other, spending the time together on the case, and making efforts to look after one another, that changed that. After that point, you were no longer just another android like the thousands of others. You were Connor, our Connor, wholly unique and special and different to all the others. And I was no longer just another human like the thousands of others. I was Rachel, the human whom you feel the need and responsibility to apologize to right now for upsetting because you clearly wanted to take responsibility. And the day we just had proved we have need of each other, because of that bond that was forged.” She went on, Connor listening intently and committing her articulate and verbose explanations to memory. “If you died, and your memory was transferred to the next one, the Connor that was unique and special would still be dead. Because the Connor that would take your place wouldn’t be the same Connor. It’s not the same Connor that I put time and effort into establishing a connection with. So even if you can transfer your memories, you yourself are wholly unique and cannot be replaced or replicated. Sorry, that’s how it is and I don’t make the rules, so you’re not allowed to die.”

Connor nodded, a small smirk creasing his lips. “In that case, I have no choice but to comply.”

Rachel squinted her eyes, a strained smirk stretched across her small, yet ample lips, as if she was trying to discern if he was being earnest or humourous. But giving a nonchalant shrug, she simply took another sip of tea.

Husband 🔓

Car Accident

Nothing

“You mentioned that you witnessed a death in a road accident before.” Connor said flatly. “And that’s why when I returned to the alley, I noticed you were showing symptoms that corresponded to a trauma related panic attack, one of the most common forms of PTSD.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel nodded, her face drooping slightly. “Yeah, I was having...a really bad mental breakdown.” She answered, biting her lip and casting her gaze downward.

“You were triggered.” Connor stated. “The sight of the deviants and then myself endangering ourselves on the highway brought you back to that incident. That’s why you were so upset with me when I returned. You were afraid you were going to be forced to relive that incident all over again. Am I correct?”

Rachel was quiet for a moment. “Partially.” She took a sip of her tea before answering. “It was both that I didn’t want to watch another person die in an accident and that I didn’t want to relive that event. Both to have to see it happen again, and...to lose someone else I cared about in the same way again.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath, clutching onto her dark, striped, oversized sweater. “I lost someone very dear to me in a car accident. Someone I loved more than anything in the whole world. And I don’t want to lose anyone else like that ever again.”

It grew quiet between them once again, Rachel taking another sip of her tea. This time, she was refusing to make eye contact with Connor.

Husband 🔓

Nothing

“It was Frank, wasn’t it?” Connor asked, causing Rachel’s head to snap up to meet Connor’s eyes. “Your husband. That’s who died in that car accident seven years ago in January. You were married five years before that in August 2026 on the 25th.”

Software Instability ^ “My spouse.” Rachel corrected, not aggressively, but firmly. She blinked a couple times, her brown eyes blinking away tears that had not yet formed. “But, yes...they were the one that died in that accident.”

Connor changed Frank’s status as ‘spouse’ rather than ‘husband’ and changed their pronouns accordingly in his database.

Comfort

Pry

Ensure

“Do you feel comfortable enough talking to me about it?” Connor asked.

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s actually kind of nice to be able to talk to someone else about it. Well, aside from Hank, but...you’ve probably figured out that he’s not great at dealing with emotions. But, he knows, too.” Connor waited patiently for her to continue, his dark eyes fixed on her forlorn and sombre expression. She took another sip of her tea and cleared her throat. 

“It was a late night. I was off work, and I went to pick Frank up. They had just gotten off, and it started snowing while they were working, so I texted them to let them know I was going to pick them up. So while I was driving home, they were telling me about this family they saw visiting one of the patients, and they had a young boy with them. Now, we’d already talked about the possibility of having a family, and we agreed it was something we both wanted. But that night, they suddenly asked me if I wanted to have a kid. And it sort of caught me off-guard, but I didn’t mind. So we talked for a little while on the way home, and...we decided to try for a baby.” Rachel’s voice wavered as she started to choke back tears. “I was so happy. Happy that I was going to be a mother. Happy that I was going to raise a child alongside the love of my life. And I was so excited to start that part of my life...and then I heard the sound of a truck, and then everything blacked out...”

Software Instability ^ Connor listened intently as Rachel recounted the painful memory, now failing to stop the tears from spilling down her face as she quietly sobbed into her sleeve, desperately wiping her eyes. Connor quickly took notice of a box of tissues on the coffee table and gently pulled out a couple of them and handed them to Rachel wordlessly.

She took them graciously, blinking away a few more tears as she brought one of the tissues to her nose and blew, a loud moist noise muffled by the tissue. She did this a few times before she crumpled the used tissue and threw it in a nearby garbage bin that was placed on the side of the fireplace on the opposite end to Bear’s kennel. “Thank you.” She squeaked, wiping her eyes and face with the second tissue before throwing that into the bin as well. “I blacked out...” She continued. “And when I came to, I could hear and see sirens everywhere. I felt like there was sand and pebbles under my skin across my whole body. There was so much pain everywhere except my left arm. My left arm was in so much pain it was numb. When I looked around, I realized that the car was upside down and that Frank was nowhere to be found. I also realized that the sand in my skin was road burn and shards of glass that were embedded in my skin in so many places. I tried desperately to find Frank, calling out to them, crawling out of the car to try and find them. And when I did, I crawled my way over to them. I got them to wake up and focus on me, but...” 

Software Instability ^ She choked back another set of tears, prompting Connor to once again provide her with tissues, this time opting instead to just give her the whole box to hold onto. “It was too late for them...I begged them to stay with me...I tried to get them to stay, but I could see the light leaving their eyes...and they died in my arms.” Rachel had now effectively broken down into several broken and loud sobs, crying into and blowing her nose into several tissues. “The last thing I remember was screaming at the paramedics not to take me away from Frank...as they were pulling me, dragging me kicking and screaming...before they put me under...and I woke up in the hospital.”

Connor was quiet for a moment. There was a strange sensation in his systems, like the creaking of machinery, in his lower abdomen between his chest and where his gut would be if he had organs. Though he could also feel his chest tightening, which wasn’t normal for androids. Yet, just to be certain, he ran a diagnostics check on himself and all systems were fully functional. As the android looked into Rachel’s pained, damp, strained eyes, he was deciding what to do.

Comfort

Say Nothing

Rachel - Warm ^  “I’m sorry.” He said, gently and patiently. His voice was barely a whisper, but Rachel caught it as she glanced at him. “It wasn’t your fault, and I hope you know that.”

“I know...” Rachel said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose again. “And I know they wouldn’t want me to feel that way. But...I can’t help it. There���s that horrible part deep in me that thinks of what I could’ve done to prevent it.” She let out a long sigh, her sobs beginning to subside. “And do you wanna know what the worst part is?”

Connor nodded.

Rachel sighed, grabbing her tea and taking another sip. “When I was in the hospital, it felt like time had stopped.” She confessed. “I was just in the bed in pain and not able to really move. It was just the same thing every day while the whole thing played over and over in my head. But that’s not the worst part...no. The worst part was when I was finally cleared to go back home from the hospital. My sister heard what happened and she picked me up, taking me home. It was early in the morning, and I expected to see Frank at home, with breakfast prepared ready to go to work...but then I remembered the accident. But for most of the day, I felt numb...like I was completely dead inside. I barely even talked to Bianca. It was one of the most painfully quiet days in my life. And then when I was looking at the clock, I realized it was about the time that Frank usually came home from work. And for the briefest of moments, I felt something. My heart jumped, and I was so ready to jump into their arms and tell them about everything that happened...but then I remembered...and that’s when it really sunk in.” Rachel’s eyes began spilling tears again. “Frank wasn’t going to be waiting for me to come home anymore. And they weren’t going to be coming home to me either...Frank...was gone. I was never going to come home to them ever again. And they were never going to come home to me. That’s when it sunk in...that I was never going to see them again...that our family we were so happy to start...was never going to happen...and I felt my heart die...” 

Software Instability ^ The woman slumped over and pulled her hood over her head, hiding her face from the android, her quiet weeps muffled as she pulled herself in tighter around herself. “I just broke down in Bianca’s arms...” Rachel croaked. “I couldn’t handle it...and I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful not to be alone...it was horrible, Connor.”

Connor was about to say something before Rachel suddenly slumped hard into him, curled up against his leg. Unsure of what to do with the unexpected contact, he simply rested his left arm on her back. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could really say to console her. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to go through something like that, Rachel.” He looked down at her, as she peaked through her hood up at the android, her broken spirit behind her eyes palpable. “I’ll put in the utmost effort to ensure you don’t have to experience that again.”

Rachel nodded, wiping her eyes and reaching for the tissues again, sitting up and straightening herself out. After she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, she threw more tissues into the garbage bin, taking several deep breaths. “Losing Frank has been the hardest thing that’s ever happened to me.” She said, beginning to regain her composure. She pulled her sweater closer to herself. “This used to be theirs.” She pointed out. “It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.

Connor nodded, breaking eye contact with Rachel and instead looking down at his hands.

Comforting

Reassuring

Sincere

Sympathetic

“This may just be a...plastic cop’s opinon.” Connor said, the light in Rachel’s eyes returning. “But I think if they knew what you were doing and that despite how difficult it’s undoubtedly been to continue without them, that you were still continuing to live, they would be proud of you.”

Rachel - Friend ^ Rachel nodded, her breath steadying. “Yeah...I think you’re right.” She said, looking over at Connor who was now meeting her eyes again. “They would be proud of me. And they would love me no matter what and they’d want me to keep going no matter what life throws at me. It was...one of the things they admired most about me.”

Software Instability ^ Before Connor could say anything else, Rachel collapsed into the android’s arms, pressing her face into his chest. “Thank you...for listening to me.” She whispered.

Connor sat there for a moment, feeling that tightness in his chest again as he slowly enclosed his arms around her, in what he had hoped was an acceptable comforting gesture. “Of course.” He responded in kind.

Understand Rachel’s reasons

Suddenly, Rachel began shifting as she pulled back to look up at Connor, her eyes beginning to dry and her breathing becoming less damp and sniffly. “Is...is your thirium pump supposed to be beating that fast?”

Software Instability ^ Connor wasn’t certain how to answer that, as he hadn’t even noticed the speed of his working pump until Rachel brought it up. He was also mildly shocked that in her painful moment, she was distracted by concern for him. But running another diagnostics check revealed no issues and that all systems were fully operational once more.

Something that only served to confuse the android even more.

“Not typically.” Connor answered in earnest. “But I’m not detecting any faults in my hardware.”

“Huh.” Rachel said, wiping her eyes again. “Weird.”

Software Instability ^  Suddenly her attention was then focused on a large black mass of fur, her face twisting into a soft and tender smile as she started ruffling Bear’s large fluffy head. “I know, I need to take you out to go poop, right?” The large Newfoundland barked a loud and rumbling bark as he lifted himself on his hind legs to stand on Rachel’s lap. “Okay, oh Jesus. Okay, we’ll go.” She strained, picking up the dog’s paws and placing him back on the ground, getting up off the couch herself. “Okay, I’ll go take Bear out to go poop, but I’ll be right back.” She informed Connor.

The android nodded. “I’ll wait until you come back.” He replied.

Objective complete

As the dog gathered excitedly around the door, letting out the occasional bark at Rachel as she attached a harness onto the large black dog, Connor couldn’t help but stare at her as she went out the door onto the front lawn. About five minutes passed until she had returned, a bag of organic material in her hand that she quickly disposed into the garbage bin beside the front door. “Alright, there you go baby.” She said, taking her shoes off and removing Bear’s harness. “Okay, go play!”

As the dog scampered to find one of the various dog toys scattered in the house, Connor began calculating his next course of action. For a moment, he pondered as to whether or not he should go. After all, he did what he wanted to do. His objective here was complete. “Alright, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Rachel.” Connor said as he got up from the couch and straightened his tie. “I should be off.”

Rachel then snapped her head in his direction, surprise on her face. “Wait...you’re leaving already?”

Software Instability ^ The disappointment in her voice was rather palpable, and Connor couldn’t help but want to comply. “I have accomplished my objective.” He said flatly. “I no longer have any reason to be here. Unless there’s anything else you need?”

“Well, no.” She said, walking up to him, her arms folded. “But I’d like you to stay. Besides, where are you even planning to go? Were you going to just follow Hank home?”

Connor nodded. “I was going to try meeting with the lieutenant, yes.”

Rachel sort of scoffed at him. “And, what would you have done if you couldn’t do that? Where would you even go? I doubt you have your own house, or anything.”

Androids didn’t need such accommodations as a house in the same way humans did. But his only plans were going to go to CyberLife for manual tune-ups and maintenance.

Software Instability ^ But for some strange reason, there was a hesitance in Connor. As if he didn’t actually want to go to CyberLife. For some strange reason, he felt a strange visceral inclination to avoid physically going to meet them.

An inclination that didn’t seem to have any sort of real rhyme or reason, which only served to concern Connor.

“I was actually thinking we could hang out for a bit.” Rachel suggested, looking up at him with pleading eyes, adjusting her glasses. “Just us two. Spend some time together until we get another break in the case.”

Connor tilted his head at her questioningly.

[Stay]

[Leave]

Insist

“You are aware that I was not designed to be a companion android.” Connor explained. “While I have been designed to have far more advanced social protocol programs than other androids, my purpose is to assist police investigators and nothing more.”

“I’m aware of all of that, Connor.” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “That’s not why I want to hang out with you. I wanna hang out with you both because we’re partners now and also friends.” 

Software Instability ^ Friends. The word felt so foreign to the android to be described of himself. Yet, it felt...appropriate to describe their relationship as such. “When you’re friends, you don’t really need a reason to spend time.” Rachel continued. “You just spend time together because you want to. Because you enjoy each other’s company and enjoy being around that person. That’s what it means to be friends. Or one of the many things that make friendships meaningful.” Connor couldn’t help the small twinge of...something rather strange in him that he couldn’t identify. The feeling of being valued so much by someone, not because of his ability to be a detective or his being an android. But because of his character. Because Rachel simply enjoyed his company. “So, will you stay?”

He had no reason to placate her. This had nothing to do with his mission and nothing to do with the deviants. His only objective coming here was to apologize and make amends with the human detective so they could have a better working relationship, and he had indeed accomplished his objective.

So why did he feel the strong inclination to stay?

[Stay]

[Leave]

Software Instability ^ Connor gave her a smile. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to refuse.” He said, taking a seat back on the couch. 

Objective: Spend time with Rachel

He had now become more aware of the speed his thirium pump was working, and at the sight of Rachel’s enthusiastic smile, it only increased further. Another diagnostics check turned up nothing at fault in his systems, which further perplexed him. He then glanced over at her tea, detecting that it had gone cold. “You should probably heat your tea again.”

Rachel shrugged as she took a seat. “Oh, don’t worry too much about that.” She said with a casual wave, taking another sip. “I don’t mind it when my tea gets cold. The warmth is more for comfort, but I’ve noticed that the flavour is a lot stronger when it gets cold.”

Connor nodded. “Ah, I see.” The moment was quiet as the music continued on the television.

Music 🔓

Birds 🔓

Animals 🔓

Let her decide

“I’ve noticed you have a room adjacent to the dining room with musical instruments.” Connor pointed out, gesturing to the door. “Given that you were singing just earlier, I gather it would be fair to assume you have musical interests.”

Rachel - Friend ^ “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Rachel said, looking away with a small blush in her capillaries. “Honestly, if the music industry wasn’t so sketchy and seedy, I would’ve gone into it. But I practice a lot on the side whenever I feel like it.” She then got up. “Do you want to see?”

Connor got up. “Sure.”

The woman lifted herself off the couch, gripping her mug of now cold tea and Connor followed, the android allowing her to lead him to the room.

Following closely, he was now able to get a better view of the room. The room was painted red, with a yellow wall on one side and an orange wall adjacent to it. Connor was able to investigate this room further, particularly the instruments. On the wall was a guitar, smaller than many, but given that Rachel was shorter than average and appeared to have smaller hands, it made sense. Right beside it was a ukulele, a rounder oval shape of the base with a printed pattern on it that made it appear like a pineapple. Another hanging off the wall was an alto saxophone.

Next to them was a bookshelf lined with music sheets, books, and others. Many of them appeared to be years old and filled with several pieces from the classic to the contemporary.

On the shelf were other smaller instruments, such as two clay ocarinas of different types and a kalimba.

There were two other instruments that appeared to be well-kept, but unused. A hurdy gurdy and a banjo.

And on the wall facing the kitchen entrance to the room was an upright piano that was in fairly decent condition. It was clearly one of the more played instruments in the room, the others being the ukulele and the guitar.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, leaning against the piano. “It’s not the fanciest piano, but it doesn’t need to be. A well-kept piano sounds just the same as any other and I’ve always wanted an authentic one. I grew up playing an electric keyboard, and I wanted an acoustic piano. There’s just something about the weight of the keys and the way the sound reverberates around a room that electric keyboards just can’t compare to.” She took a seat on the piano bench, her form outlined by the light filtering in through the window. The sun was going down, and the warm light made the room glow a much deeper colour.

Whoever designed the house had a real talent for interior design.

“And you play all of these instruments?” Connor asked, still standing in the room.

“Not all of them.” Rachel replied, gesturing towards the banjo and hurdy gurdy. “Those were Frank’s.” She clarified. “That banjo was actually their father’s. The one good thing that actually came out of that bastard. But the nice thing after we got married was that Frank never had to see that piece of shit ever again. Now, Frank wasn’t exactly the most artistic person, and they didn’t really have much of a sense of rhythm or was all that musically gifted. But they loved how the banjo sounded, and knowing that their father had one he never played sparked their interest in learning. And they did learn. And after putting in the effort and time to learn, they got pretty damn good at it.” She then gestured to the hurdy gurdy. “And that was their very favourite instrument. Which only made them more determined to learn how to play it.”

Connor went still. “Oh.” He then turned around to look at the other instruments. “And the others?”

“All mine.” Rachel replied. “I practice whenever I feel like it.”

Connor scanned over all of them once again and then returned his dark chocolate gaze onto Rachel. He couldn’t help but want to hear her play something, the memory he recorded of her singing at the forefront of his mind.

Piano

Guitar

Ukulele

“I’m curious to listen to you play the guitar.” Connor said, taking a seat next to Rachel, leaning forward into his lap, his hands folded neatly. “There’s something captivating about the vibrations of the steel strings of a guitar as it’s strummed or picked.”

Rachel scoffed at him. “I thought you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t really listen to music, as such.’” She teased, doing what sounded like an imitation of Connor’s voice, giving him a cheeky smirk coupled with a confidently raised eyebrow.

“But I’d like to.” Connor finished, returning her smirk.

She looked away from him quickly as she got up to reach for the guitar. For a moment, she seemed to be too short to reach it, but had clearly done it enough times to know how to do it without damaging the instrument. In fact, from what Connor could tell, Rachel took very good care of her instruments.

The sounds of unzipping could be heard as Rachel had undone her sweater and shucked it off her shoulders, placing it on a nearby chair and revealing her form. 

Software Instability ^ She had rather broad shoulders for her petite figure, which were further accentuated by the black t-shirt she was wearing. Her short, brown, wavy hair rested effortlessly against her neck, just barely short of her shoulders. Even the way her rich dark locks framed her face was far more noticeable now that she had taken off the sweater, which was evidently twice her size in width and a head taller than her. Connor couldn’t help but notice how the evening light accentuated her curves. She was by no means a thin woman, her abdomen appearing round and soft and her hips wide and quite evident. Her chest, once disguised easily by her sweater, was now quite noticeable, though Connor knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to stare. It was considered rude. He then finally noticed her arms and legs. Toned, but not all that muscular. Built for speed and bursts of energy and activity, but not necessarily endurance or great feats of strength.

Connor didn’t really have much of a reference or understanding of what it meant or felt like to find something or someone beautiful, or even aesthetically pleasing. But he felt that if there was any feasible way to describe Rachel physically, ‘beautiful’ would be accurate.

“Hey, you good?” Rachel said, an inquisitive look in her dark eyes, snapping Connor out of his focus. “I didn’t think androids could get distracted.”

“Not typically.” Connor replied. “But their objectives can be overwritten if something else has taken more immediate attention. It happens when analyzing multiple aspects of a given location.”

Rachel scoffed with a roll of her eyes and sat back down next to Connor. She began plucking the strings, listening intently as she adjusted the tuning keys accordingly. It seemed she had enough of a sensitivity to sound that she could tune her instruments with ease by ear alone.

After fiddling with the tuning enough, she played a C chord, followed by several others to be sure that it sounded right. Connor could detect that it was indeed tuned correctly to the standard that guitars were typically tuned. And with the speed she changed chords so seamlessly, she was definitely skilled. “You know, the one good thing that came out of the accident is that I can actually play better with my left hand than I used to be able to.” She said with a chuckle. “I can actually reach the damn frets. That was always a problem for me, cause my fingers were too short and the necks were always too thick for me to be able to play them well. Especially ‘cause all of my dad’s guitars were, well, for him. Not for me. He taught me how to play.” Her eyes flickered over to the ukulele on the wall. “Although I learned to play the ukulele before I played the guitar. Of the two, guitar’s definitely more difficult.”

She demonstrated this by playing more difficult chords one after another, switching seamlessly between them, her hand gliding across the frets. The android couldn’t help but find himself hypnotized by the movements of her hand.

She stopped for a moment, not looking at Connor, her eyebrows pressed together as if searching for something. After a moment, she began playing something, her right hand going for something softer and mellower, plucking the strings methodically and rhythmically, her left hand switching notes swiftly.

It was evidently clear that she had practiced a great deal, as her playing seemed so effortless and graceful. She played a long intro before she took in a breath and began to sing.

I know that we are upside down.

So, hold your tongue and hear me out.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Connor quickly identified the song as originally by an EDM artist called Zedd, this song in particular featuring vocals by Hayley Williams, also known as Paramore, from the 2012 album Clarity. However, it was evident that this was not in the same style as the original song. It was actually played in the style of a cover of this song sung by an artist named Stassi.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Software Instability ^ As Connor listened, he began to notice the sheer elegance in Rachel’s voice as she played. Her speaking voice was so brazen, so confident, and so vulgar. She was indeed as much of a foulmouth as the lieutenant was, perhaps one of the reasons they seemed to get along so well. Her loud and energetic speaking voice portrayed her determined and fiery attitude very well.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

But this was much different. Her voice was soft, gentle, graceful, and flowing. There was even a certain gravelly and breathy quality to it that was evident when she sang in the lower octave of the song. Her singing voice now was far more vulnerable, delicate, and soft. 

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Something that seemed to be evident in the things she kept quiet about during the day. It was a reflection of her gentle, patient, kind, and empathetic nature that was underneath the rough, foul, and brazen displays of anger and boldness. And Connor couldn’t tear his attention away from it.

Software Instability ^ As Rachel played the break in the song, Connor found himself absolutely entranced by her musicality, and once again, he could feel something strange happening in his software. Androids didn’t need to breathe, only to simulate it to prevent their systems from overheating. But despite knowing it was impossible, he felt as though his breath had been siphoned out of his chest. If he had any other directives or objectives, he had completely forgotten them in his moment, his only focus was on Rachel.

The moment she opened her mouth to move onto the next verse, he could feel something akin to a jump in his pump rate. A warning flashed on-screen.

Software Instability ^ Warning - Overheating

Connor took notice of the warning that appeared on his interface and remembered to take a simulated breath to cool the temperature that was starting to rise in his biocomponents, but not once tearing his attention away from Rachel’s vibrant and gentle voice.

I am a fire, you're gasoline.

Come pour yourself all over me.

We'll let this place go down in flames 

Only one more time.

You kill the lights, I'll draw the blinds.

Don't dull the sparkle in your eyes.

I know that we were made to break.

So what? I don't mind.

Are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Oh oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

Are you gonna stay the night?

Doesn't mean we're bound for life.

So oh oh, are you gonna stay the night?

The conclusion of the song was drawing near, and Connor had realized that he had unconsciously shifted himself closer, their legs touching. It was strange. He didn’t remember inputting any such command.

Software Instability ^  After Rachel finished playing, she looked up shyly at Connor, just as quickly looking away, instead focusing her gaze on the base of the guitar. “Sorry,” she apologized meekly in a way that Connor found typically uncharacteristic of Rachel, but no less endearing. “I haven’t played for anyone in a very long time, so forgive me if I seem a bit nervous or awkward.”

Connor couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and felt as though he should break the silence that had wormed its way between them.

Sincere

Analytical

Pleasant

Indifferent

“It’s so different than how you were when I met you just this morning. It’s far more gentle, elegant, and graceful.” Connor said, a smile on his face. “I thoroughly enjoy hearing you play and I like listening to you sing. Your voice has a unique quality to it, and I hope you know that.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel - Friend ^

The shocked look on her face, coupled with the blush that started to form on her cheeks, and the way she shyly looked away, pressing her face into her shoulder, made Connor feel as though nothing else mattered. He managed to get a glance of her bashful smile before she looked back into his eyes. “Thank you.” She said quietly. “I...I really appreciate the compliment.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, seemingly not wanting to tear their gazes away from each other.

Suddenly, Connor was getting a report, his processors being bombarded with information. “What is it?” Rachel asked, noticing his sudden silence.

“I just got a report of a homicide downtown.” Connor stated, looking at Rachel. “We should go collect Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Huh, well damn. That was fast.” Rachel said with a nod, putting her guitar on the wall and then retrieving her sweater. “Where exactly is it?”

“The Eden Club.” Connor replied. “The most popular android sex club in Detroit.”

“Ooooh! Fun!” Rachel said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and squinting at it. “Oh. That explains the text I got from Gavin, then.” She then sighed, holding her sweater. “Well, if we’re going somewhere like that, I suppose I should wear something a bit better than just a sweater.” She looked back at Connor with a smirk. “I’ll take one of my leather jackets.” She then left the room, Connor following behind her.

Objective complete

As they walked into the living room, she quickly opened her hallway closet, grabbing a pair of leather laced boots and a very thick zip-up leather jacket. Connor tilted his head at her inquisitively, remembering that he had taken his shoes off after coming in and slipping them back on. “Strange, I didn’t take you for someone who would have such an affinity for leather clothes.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel gave him a sly side-eye before she put her boots on and got up close to Connor, pulling her jacket up onto her shoulders and zipping herself up, making his breath hitch in his nonexistent throat. “Well, where we’re going, I figured wearing some leather would help me fit right into the environment.” She said in a tone of voice that made his pump skip. “And plus, I look pretty damn good in leather.”

She then gave him a wink as she opened the door and exited the house, and Connor found his attention drawn to her hips before he refocused himself on following after her, closing the door and allowing her to lock the door.

The pair made their way to the sidewalk and Connor had already called a taxi to the address. “Where should we look for the lieutenant?” The android asked his partner.

“Jimmy’s Bar, probably.” Rachel said casually, checking her phone. “But if not, probably at his house getting drunk.”

---------------------------------

Next Chapter

[passionate-reply]

Great Albums is back for a third time! This week, we discuss Dazzle Ships, the avant-garde masterpiece that was so infamously weird, it almost “sank” the pop career of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Or did it? As usual, you can find a full transcript of the video under the break, if you’d like to read it instead.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums. Today, I’ll be talking about an album that many would consider OMD’s best, and many would consider the last great album they ever made: 1983’s Dazzle Ships, their fourth studio LP. It has a reputation that precedes it, as a strange, experimental, and avant-garde album. And I can’t argue with that too much, when it has tracks that sound like "ABC Auto-Industry."

The most obvious thing one can say about Dazzle Ships is that it’s dense and rich with samples. You’ll hear found sounds ranging from a “Speak and Spell” toy to a radio broadcast from Czechoslovakia. It’s a magpie’s nest constructed of garbage and baubles, collage-like and conscientiously artificial. And OMD’s Paul Humphreys and Andy McCluskey managed to make it before sampling became easier and hence more widespread later in the 1980s, thanks to advancements in digital technology. In its own day, it was, famously, a huge flop, baffling even the critics, which makes it tempting to argue that the world simply wasn’t ready for it. Popular legend says that Humphreys and McCluskey were essentially forced to make increasingly soft, pop-oriented music for years afterward, usually at the hands of their label’s higher-ups.

Is that story really true? Well, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if anybody really does. But I think it’s important that we entertain some doubt. Regardless of its actual veracity, this legend is offering us a simplistic narrative of art and capital butting heads, and one that we see repeated all too often in music journalism. It’s a story that expects us to believe that experimental music is good by default, and the natural goal of music and all the people who make it--and, conversely, that accessible music is bad, and anyone who writes a song you can dance to is always after profit, never craft.

Ultimately, though, the most important reason why I’m asking you to leave this question at the gate is that it’s simply a less interesting way to think about art. What I think is truly ingenious about OMD is their ability to combine a pop sensibility with that bleeding-edge experimentation, and vice versa. I don’t think of Dazzle Ships as just an inscrutable, esoteric musical ready-made, but rather something capable of animating and enriching a bunch of otherwise mundane sounds. A word I might use for it is "challenging," because it isn't simply off-putting--it has a certain charm that invites you to stick around and work through it, and you don't feel like it's a waste of your time. I think the underlying pop DNA offered by Dazzle Ships is a big part of that.

In “Genetic Engineering,” the samples from that Speak & Spell are contrasted with a more traditional chorus, which rises above the chaos, stirring and anthemic. It’s a song full of friction, not only between these musical ideas, but in ideas about technology and our future. Like many great works of electronic music, especially earlier in its history, Dazzle Ships is deeply concerned with science and technology, and the ways they’ve structured our world. These guys wrote “Enola Gay” a few years earlier, sure, but there’s much more than Luddite, dystopian thinking here! Dazzle Ships walks a tightrope between romantic adoration of the promise of a better tomorrow, and the tempered uncertainty we’re forced to develop, when we witness the devastation our most horrifying inventions have wrought already. Something that helps sell the former is the motif of childhood: in addition to the Speak & Spell, “Genetic Engineering” also features a children’s toy piano, and prominently references “children” in its lyrics. And “Telegraph,” the album’s other single, sees fit to reference “Daddy.”

Touches like these, and the centering of not-so-new technologies like telegraphy and radio, carry us backward in time. Dazzle Ships has a sense of nostalgia for the technological explosion of the Midcentury, when household technologies were improving in ways that saved time and labour, and faith in “better living through science” was high. It’s not a wistful or introspective nostalgia, but rather one that taps into the bustling excitement of living through that era. That retro styling helps us situate ourselves in a childlike mindset: optimistic, but somewhat naive. Children are highly imaginative, and become enthralled with possibility, but don’t always understand every implication their actions have.

But, as I said, “Telegraph” and “Genetic Engineering” were the album’s singles; the typical track on *Dazzle Ships* sounds more like “ABC Auto-Industry.” The track listing is structured such that these more conventional songs are surrounded by briefer, and more abrasive, intrusions. They become signals in the noise, as though we’re listening to them on the radio--or ships, rising above some stormy seas. Several tracks, such as “International,” also feature a more dissonant intro, on top of that, crowding their main melodies inward.

Over the years, many critics have been quick to contrast Dazzle Ships with OMD’s other albums, but I actually think it has a lot in common with their preceding LP, 1981’s Architecture & Morality, and seems to me to flow naturally from the direction the band had already been going in. Architecture & Morality is a lively mix, with moody instrumentals like “Sealand,” guitar-driven numbers like “The New Stone Age,” and catchy, intuitive pop songs like “Souvenir.” Architecture and Morality proved to be their most successful album, when its title track sounds like this. I fail to see how it’s tremendously different than the title track of Dazzle Ships, which leads us on a harrowing sea chase, with radar pings quickly closing in.

That nautical theme is a great segue to discuss the album’s visual motif. Like all of OMD's first five albums, its sleeve was designed by Peter Saville, most famous for his stunning work for New Order. The cover and title were inspired by a painting Saville had seen, Edward Wadsworth’s *Dazzle Ships in Drydock at Liverpool,* which portrays WWI warships painted in striking, zebra-like geometric patterns. These sharply contrasting “razzle dazzle” designs weren’t “camouflage,” but rather served to confuse enemy forces’ attempts to track them, and predict their motions. Dazzle ships were killing machines that fought dirty...and they were also beautiful. It’s a potent, complex symbol, and it’s a natural fit for an album that’s also capricious, perplexing, and captivating in its uniquely modern terror. Saville’s sleeve design features both a die-cut design as well as a gatefold; peeking through the cover’s “portholes” reveals the interior, where we find a map of the world, divided by time zones. It’s yet another reminder of how technology has reshaped the planet, connecting the human race while also creating divisions.

Earlier, I argued that Dazzle Ships isn’t that different from OMD’s preceding LP, and I’d also suggest that their follow-ups to it aren’t all that different, either. It’s easy to see the influence of Dazzle Ships on their most recent work, made after reforming the group in the late 00s, and informed by the critical re-evaluation and cult acclaim of their alleged masterpiece. But even in the 80s, they basically continued the pattern of layering easy to love, “obvious single choice” tracks alongside more experimental, sample-heavy ones. Compare the title track of their sixth LP, 1985's *Crush.*

Even the greatest of pop hitmakers can't maintain a streak in the charts forever--it's not the nature of mainstream pop charts. Not even in the 1980s, when you could get away with quite a lot of electronic weirdness...at least for a while. Looking back and listening to "Maid of Orleans," it's almost hard to believe it was one of OMD's biggest hits. Is it really less weird than something like "Telegraph"? Perhaps they had simply reached the end of their imperial phase...whether they really had that stern talking-to or not.

It's not so much that Dazzle Ships isn't weird, so much as it is foreseeable that a nerdy, left-of-center band like OMD would have come up with it. Dazzle Ships IS excellent--it’s a Great Album! But it's good enough that I think it deserves to be heard and valued on its own terms. The album is too goddamn good--too compelling, too spell-binding--to be reduced to "that one album the plebs were too dumb to really get." I'm not clearing the air because I think this album is overrated, but because I think it deserves better, deeper discourse than it gets. A truly great album is great whether it sells or it doesn't, right? My advice is to never let art intimidate you, no matter how obtuse people say it is. Send your ship on that plunge into the dark waters of the unknown--you might find something beautiful.

That said...my favourite track overall is “Radio Waves,” an irresistibly fun cut that could easily have become a third single. Since “Genetic Engineering” and “Telegraph” live on side one of the record, “Radio Waves” is really the only “reprieve” we get on side two, smack in its middle. It really stands out, in context--almost like the opposite of how a more conventional album might have one out-there track that catches you off guard. Aside from all of that, though, the song also stands perfectly well alone. I have a real soft spot for music about music, how it’s made and transmitted, and “Radio Waves” is simply one hell of a ride.

Thanks for reading!

[marshmallow-phd]

The Sound of the Rain

Genre: GreekMythology!AU, Modern!AU, Orpheus!AU, Reincarnation!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

A/N: This random spark of creativity was inspired by this amazing moodboard made by @amaxing-daes. I hope you don’t mind! 

**

Day: 1,095,036

He wasn’t sure why he kept count anymore. It’s not like he was counting down to anything. Or up. Did an end really exist for a cursed immortal?

Three thousand years was a long time to walk the earth, to watch it change and evolve. Regular mortals would complain about wanting to go back to the “good old days”. Little did they know there was no such thing. Every decade and every century had its monstrosities that made the ones having to live through wish they could go to another time. It was one of the few things that never changed.

Yixing’s fingers danced across the piano, softly pressing on the keys and letting the notes piece themselves together however they saw fit. He hardly ever thought about arrangements anymore. Reflections would simply formulate in his head and then he’d let the magic flow through to whichever instrument he’d picked up at the time. Sometimes it would be about things that made him angry, sometimes nature itself would be enough to spark his creativity. In the present moment, his most frequent inspiration was plaguing his mind.

Even after all these years, his wife – the one taken from him too soon, the one who he almost had back in his arms if he hadn’t been such a failure – still haunted his dreams. He could say that some of his most beautiful pieces were created because of her, but all the awards and recognition in the world couldn’t replace the hole in his heart.

“Wow, Lay, could you get more depressing?”

Yixing smirked to himself. Lay. It was his latest pseudonym. In retrospect, maybe it was a little silly, but at the time he thought it fit right in with the other music producers in this modern age. One of his frequent collaborators went by “Loey” after all.

Now interrupted, Yixing stopped playing and turned off the recorder that was resting on top of the piano before turning around to face his partner. “Not everything needs to be a dance number, Han.”

“But you’re good at those.” Han motioned back with his head. “Come on. That popstar is here and she wants to listen to the demo.”

“Okay.” Standing up from the bench, Yixing pocketed the recorder and followed Han out of the practice room towards the studio. He frowned once they entered the small workspace.

Shia, the latest sensation exploding on the world pop scene, was sitting in Yixing’s chair, sporting the most sour look on her face. Perhaps she thought she was above this listening schedule. Or maybe she got into an argument with her boyfriend. Whatever the reason for her attitude was, Yixing really wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.

Let’s just get this over with.

Sitting down in one of the less comfy chairs, Yixing introduced himself, shook hands with the managers and other producers for Shia’s album and turned to the soundboard to start the song.

If Yixing had to rate this song, he’d only give it a seven. He was always harsh on his own music, but this one just came out a little… well, he didn’t know how to describe it. He was still proud of it – he was with a majority of his creations – he just felt a little lackluster about music in general lately. Over the centuries, it’d been the one thing that kept him going after losing his wife. Maybe it was the way music had changed that was making him lose interest. Or maybe it was just himself that was changing. The will to keep going was certainly starting to fade.

Somewhere around the first bridge, Yixing’s confidence grew, just a miniscule amount, but he knew this song was good. The kind that would make everyone cheer and get up to start dancing The managers and producers were bobbing their heads, listening intensely as the song headed into the chorus. Yixing himself sang the demo since no one else seemed to be able to pick up on the rhythm.

When the song ended, everyone turned to Shia to take in her reaction. The pursed lips never relaxed and she never uncrossed her arms throughout the approximate three and a half minutes.

“I don’t like it,” she finally stated after a minute or so of silence.

Her manager sighed, looking as frustrated as Yixing was beginning to feel. “And why’s that?”

“This isn’t the music that I signed up for,” Shia snapped. “I don’t want to sound like everyone else.”

“This doesn’t sound like everyone else,” Han argued. “A song by Lay is always one of a kind. This will put you on the charts where you belong. You said you wanted to make it to the Grammy’s-”

Shia scoffed. “Do you really think this song about how great life is and how much fun you can have is going to get me to the Grammy’s? I want a song with meaning. I have plenty of dance tracks to release as singles. Do I look like I want to be the next Britney Spears?”

Yes. Yixing held his tongue. He’d seen her interviews and her music videos. As judgmental as it could sound, she did, indeed, seem to be going down the dancing popstar route. He’d never seen her pick up a guitar and strum out a heartbreaking ballad with lyrics so deep they took the listener to another time in their life. She never talked about music like it was her life and soul. If that was the kind of artist she wanted to be, then why did she sell out?

Suddenly feeling a little hypocritical, Yixing stood up and walked out of the room.

“Lay, wait!” Han stopped him just before he could escape out the front doors. Putting a hand on his shoulder, Han sighed. “Don’t take that punk’s word to heart. It’s a good song. Plenty of other artists will want to take it.”

Yixing shook his head. “At this point, I don’t really care. I’m getting too old for this.”

Han chuckled. “If it were anyone else, then I would argue that statement. But since it’s you….”

That made Yixing laugh. Yes, Han knew… maybe not the entire story, but he knew most of Yixing’s history. And it was a complete accident how he found out.

For over three thousand years, he’d been able to keep his own secret. But one night when Han was over, Yixing had a little too much to drink and started blurting out everything. Han didn’t believe him at first, but then out came the portraits and pictures and hundreds of diaries that Yixing had kept over the years. He felt a little lighter now, having someone to share his secret with. While Han had made comments here and there that almost gave him away, everyone pretty much took them as jokes or metaphors, keeping him safe from any odd experiments scientists might want to put him through. It wasn’t science that made him what he was, so he doubted they would find anything out anyway.

“I just need some air.” Yixing slipped out from under Han’s hand and pushed through the glass door that led to the sidewalk outside.

He didn’t know where he was headed, if he was going towards a certain something at all; he just knew he needed to be away from the studio for a while, let the others hash it out if she wanted it or not. There was nothing in him that really cared. Han was right; someone would take the song if she didn’t.

It was nice outside today. Most of the time, Yixing didn’t know what the weather was like. He nearly always dressed in the wrong kind of clothes: a t-shirt when it was freezing, a leather jacket when it was boiling hot. This time, however, he lucked out. The temperature wasn’t too bad, making him comfortable in the black shirt and matching jeans he was sporting. Blue was the only color in the sky, save for the blinding sun. No clouds covered up the beautiful wonder above him. But that work of nature’s art almost distracted him to a dangerous level.

Your head was down towards your phone when you passed him, nearly making him miss you as he was staring up at the sky. But enough was captured in the corner of his eye to make his heart jump in his chest. He knew that hair. He knew that jaw and shoulder and ear. He knew you.

Could it really be? Could he really have just stumbled upon a second chance?

Fighting through the crowd on the sidewalk, Yixing hurried to catch up with you. He needed to make sure that it was the same face.

Several feet ahead of him, you turned into a coffee shop. Okay, good. He could catch up to you there. But just as he approached the large window that made up a majority of the front wall, his heart sank.

You weren’t just stopping in to get a fresh cup of coffee and then going about your day. You were meeting someone. A particularly handsome someone who stood up and greeted you with a hug as soon as he spotted you. You were smiling and laughing, happy to be in his presence. Realizing that he had been ridiculous to follow you in the first place, Yixing turned around and headed back towards the studio.

The place was empty when he got back. It was quiet, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. No sample beats thumping in the speakers, no drum sets being pounded on, no pitch tuning being done. Just peace and quiet. And he even had his chair back, although a small amount of glitter was left behind.

Covering his face with his hands, Yixing leaned forward as he sat down and tried his best to keep his breathing normal. It had to be the same person. Not the exact same, but your new incarnation. Your face was the same, your smile, your gracefulness. There you were right in front of him. All this time he’d been alone, unable to numb the pain of losing you, no matter who he smiled at or let sleep on the other side of the bed with him at night. None had come close to you. But now it was almost worse. Did he try to insert himself into your unsuspecting life? Or did he let you go on blissfully unaware of his existence?

“Lay, you okay?”

Lifting his head, Yixing looked at Han, thankful that he was alone in finding him.

Han’s jaw dropped. “Man, are you alright?”

It was then that Yixing realized he’d been crying. The tears that rolled down his cheeks were small and few in number, but still very much present. Han sat down in the office chair across him, rolling a little closer.

“I saw her,” Yixing whispered.

“Saw who? Shia?”

“No,” Yixing sniffed back the new set of tears that were threatening to spill over. “My wife.”

Han’s jaw dropped. “Y-your wife? But I thought she, you know, died. Like… a long time ago?”

Leaning back in the chair, Yixing sighed. “She did. I think this might be her recent incarnation.”

“Wow.” Han ran a hand through his hair, blowing air between his lips in astonishment. He suddenly jumped forward in his seat, startling Yixing. “So, reincarnation is real, too? Like, it's kind of all true?”

“All might be a bit of an overstatement, but yes. I’ve met a few people along the years that have been reborn.” Yixing frowned, remembering the few run-ins he had, mostly with people he had known when he was still mortal. There had been a mixture of fear and excitement when he’d approached them. Would they remember him? Would they know he had been alive all this time? The answer to both had turned out to be no. To this day, Yixing didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“So, did you talk to her?”

Yixing shook his head. “No. She, uh, she was meeting someone. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Something hard and plastic connected with Yixing’s face, shocking him and stinging at his skin. It was a pair of headphones that Han had snatched up from the soundboard and thrown at him. “What was that for?”

“Because apparently being alive for several millennia made you dumber rather than smarter,” Han snapped. “This could be your chance to be with her again. Maybe that one goddess, Penelope-”

“Persephone.”

Han rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Maybe this is her way of saying ‘hey, you’ve been punished enough, here’s a treat’.”

“I hardly doubt that.” With a heavy sigh, Yixing ran a hand down his face. He looked up at his friend, his one confidante. “You really think I should try and find her again?” Han nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. Yixing cringed. “But she was meeting a guy….”

Han took Yixing’s hand and shook it twice. “Hi, welcome to the twenty-first century where girls have guy friends.” Yixing yanked his hand back, irritated. “Also, it could have been a cousin she hadn't seen in a long time. Or,” Han held his hands up, palms out, in a very sarcastic manner, “even if it was a boyfriend, I doubt he could hold up to the chiseled, dimpled, world’s greatest music producer, Lay.”

There was no other response Yixing could muster other than to laugh, embarrassed by the hype his friend was giving him. While he still didn’t have the full confidence to go up against another guy if you were already in a relationship, he still wanted to get to know the you in this time period, even if he had to settle with simple friendship.

“Okay,” Yixing nodded. “I guess there’s only one thing left for me to do.” He stared down Han with determination. “I’ve got to find her again.”

Day: 1,095,043

It’d been a week already and he couldn’t find you. Not that he thought he would find you the moment he walked outside and headed in the same direction he had the first time, but it was becoming a little discouraging, not seeing you again.

For the third day in a row, he sat in that coffee shop, the one place he’d seen you, and waited. From his years of observing people, he could guess that you came here often if you chose to meet someone within these walls. He just hoped that he wasn’t wasting his time. He’d given up too easily last week. Where he should have come up with some excuse to talk to you, introduced himself and gotten at least your new name, he froze, turning around and deciding that you were better off in this new life without even giving himself a chance. While he was ashamed of how he’d failed you, he wasn’t a bad person.

As he stared out the window, watching the people pass by in groups or by themselves, he listened to the soft sprinkle of rain hitting against the glass. It was a little gloomier today, bring his hope down a few pegs. He didn’t really like the rain, but the pitter-patter sound the droplets had inspired a few songs, so he couldn’t hate it completely.

Just when he was thinking over possibly heading out into the cold weather, his miracle arrived.

You were on the other side of the street, walking towards the crosswalk that would bring you straight to the shop. But you were crying. Not loud, shoulder-shaking sobs. Instead, it was the kind that was more subtle. The kind that reddened the eyes and stuffed up the nose, but made no sound. Yixing wouldn’t have even been able to decipher your state if you hadn’t been hugging yourself so tightly, wiping your eyes with your sleeve every few seconds or so.

When you came to the crosswalk, you were so wrapped up in whatever was making you hurt that you weren’t paying attention to the glowing orange man that had stopped blinking, warning pedestrians that it wasn’t safe to walk. Not even thinking, Yixing jumped up out of his seat and ran outside. Shoving people aside left and right, he made it to the sidewalk, not slowing down as he raced to push you out of the way of oncoming traffic. He finally stopped once your feet were safely back on the pale concrete, his arms cradling you to his chest. Stepping back, he frantically held your face, searching for any sign that you were hurt in the rescue.

“Are you okay?” he said breathlessly.

You nodded shakily. “Th-thank you. I, um, I really should have been better attention. I just-”

Yixing shushed you. “That’s okay. Let’s get you out of the cold and something to drink.”

Not answering, you let him lead you back to the coffee shop. Inside, he sat you down at the table he’d been occupying by the window for the last several hours before going up to the counter and ordering a simple hot chocolate. The wind outside was biting and unforgiving and your thin cardigan was hardly enough to shield you from it’s wrath. You needed to warm up and hopefully the steaming drink would do the trick.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he set the cup down in front of you before taking his seat again. You didn’t touch the drink and you kept your head down, most likely to hide the fact that you’d been crying – which he already knew.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it. “Thank you, again. For that. I feel like an idiot for just walking out there in the middle of traffic.”

“Maybe something was distracting you?” he offered. He hoped you would open up to him even though, to you, he was complete stranger.

Your answer was accompanied by a shrug. “Something like that, yeah.” Finally you took a sip of the drink, shivering as the soothing liquid hit your system.

It was silence for a few minutes. Many sentences started themselves in Yixing’s head, but he couldn’t bring himself to release any of them.

“I just get like that sometimes,” you suddenly confessed, making Yixing perk up.

“Get like that?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” You played with the cozy that saved your hand from the hot plastic, not meeting his eye. “I don’t know why, I just get really… sad, I guess? Usually, I just sit on my couch and listen to depressing music, but something today told me to go for a walk. I guess I was trying concentrate on not crying that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” Your cheeks rose up as you gave him a shy smile. “Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“No, no!” Yixing protested. “I don’t think that’s weird at all. Emotions make us human, right?”

“That is true.” Holding out your hand, you introduced yourself. “I’m (y/n).”

Yixing fought to contain his elation as he took your hand, still a little cold but much better than it was before, and said, “I’m… Lay.” He thought it best to keep the facade of his current identity for now. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lay?” Your eyebrows furrowed. Scepticism was painted all over your face, but you went with it. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Fighting the urge to bring your hand to his lips, like he did all those years ago, Yixing let your fingers slip away from his. “So, what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m a school teacher.” Your entire face brightened up, making it even more beautiful than it already was. “First graders.”

Of course. It fit all too well. “You look like you’d make a great teacher.”

“Thank you. What about you?” you asked after taking another sip of your drink. “What do you do?”

“I’m a music producer,” he replied proudly.

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

Laughing, Yixing started to go into more of what he did, but then his phone rang, making him frown. It was Han. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” At your nod of understanding, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, buddy, any luck?”

Yixing cleared. “Actually, yes. Did you need something?”

“Wow. That’s actually surprising. I figured you would be SOL with the luck you’ve had.”

He’d let that slide… for now.

“But, right now, Shia’s on her way. They want to hear the song again and they want you there. Got to come back to the studio. Sorry, man.”

Of course this would happen now. “Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Hanging up, he looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“No, that’s fine,” you insisted, waving your hand at him.

Taking a deep breath, Yixing knew he had to take this chance while it was in front of him. “Do you think… I could see you again?”

Your eyes grew wide and a pink dust appeared on your cheeks. “Um, yeah. I would like that.”

As quick as his fingers could go, he opened a new contact in his phone and handed it over to you. There was no protest as you gave him your number.

“This might seem weird, but I’m glad to have met you, Lay,” you confessed.

His heart swelled in his chest. How could things be going so well for him? “I’m glad to have met you, too.”

Leaving you there in that cafe was hard, but he had to maintain his regular life. Besides, now he had a way to see you again. Walking away from you right now was only for a moment, it was not forever. Not this time.

Day: 1,095,077

For over a month now, Yixing had been able to see you off and on, meeting you at the cafe or grabbing a small dinner. The more he got to know the current you, the more he was convinced that you really were the reincarnation of his wife. The subtle mannerisms, the way you talked, every little feature in your face, it was all the same. And he was falling in love with you all over again. Some things were different, obviously, as your life experiences were different this time around, but he still felt strongly towards you and wanted to be with you.

He found himself skipping out on sessions with Han to go meet you. The melodies leaving his his fingers, whether being created on the soundboard or the instruments in front of him, were happier, livelier than they had been in the past. It was like he’d spent so long in the dark, cold winter, but the frost was finally melting away to spring.

Everything was in perfect order for when you would arrive. This was the first time you were going to come to the studio and Yixing wanted you to be impressed, not disgusted by the food wrappers and empty coffee cups lying around. Though the definition of your relationship was still just as friends, he could feel it growing into more. He hoped that tonight would help things move to the next step.

“Lay?” your soft voice came out as a whisper as you gently knocked on the doorframe.

He beamed at you, running up to you and guiding you in. “You made it. How was school?”

“It was good. The kids say hi.”

Yixing had gone once to the school to bring you back the cardigan you’d left at the restaurant the night before. The children had rushed at him, curious of the man who was bringing their teacher a piece of clothing. He’d stayed and played with them for an hour or so before you finally had to shoo him away to get back to their lessons.

“Tell them I’ll come see them again soon,” Yixing grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “You are going to get me in trouble.”

Patting the seat next to him, Yixing urged you to come to the recording equipment. He had something he wanted you to hear. “Are you ready?” You nodded eagerly. Yixing pressed the button to start the new song.

It was a slow ballad, but not a sad one. Hope and love filled every lyric, connected every note. He wished for you to understand it was all for you. The only thought he had while creating the song was of you, your face and your smile. Your laugh was the foundation for the rhythm, giving it a unique pattern.

As the song faded out, Yixing’s recorded voice giving way to the last few notes, you turned to him, glossy eyed and smiling brighter than the sun.

“That was beautiful,” you sighed. You reached out to him and grasped his hand. “You are so talented.” Realizing what you were doing, you took your hand back, embarrassed. “I mean, of course you are,” you laughed. “Mr. Music Producer.”

Shyness spilling over his whole body, Yixing pressed both of his hands into his head, leaning back in his chair while chuckling. You loved his song. The message might not have gone completely through, but you loved it. That was enough.

The two of you stayed in the studio for a few more hours, just talking while Yixing showed you how he composed songs on this modern technology. You listened attentively, taking in everything that he was saying, even playing with some of the knobs to create your own transitions.

Before he knew it, it was getting late and time to leave the studio as the sun was leaving the sky. He walked you out, but he didn’t want to leave you just yet.

“Are you hungry?”

You nodded eagerly. “I am, actually.”

Yixing scratched the back of his head nervously. “Can I make you dinner?”

“You cook, too?” You scoffed, looking out onto the street. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Laughing, Yixing didn’t answer, just taking your hand and leading you to his car. His apartment wasn’t too far away, making it there in five minutes or so. Almost as soon as you walked in through the door, you started looking around, taking in the record collection and small pictures that Yixing had taken in his travels over the world. Not that you knew the older ones were taken by him.

He let you wander around while he got to work in the kitchen, sauteing vegetables and marinating the meat. The smells of the cooking food filled the air until he could hear your stomach growling from his spot in front of the stove. He giggled at the sound, but he didn’t say anything, just allowing you to continue walking around.

Just when he started plating the finished product, the vibration of strummed guitar strings hummed through the air. Walking over to the entry way that led to the living room, Yixing’s lips split into a smile when he saw you sitting on his couch, playing the acoustic guitar that usually sat in the corner, only there when he was inspired at two in the morning.

At first, the notes you played were random, nothing recognizable. But then, slowly, the notes changed into a melody he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

Tears formed in his eyes as he listened to you play the first song he ever wrote you on the lyre. It had been a gift, one that he hoped to win your heart over with. The plan had worked, the two of you very much in love and married within the month. He played it for you whenever you asked, typically on the nights before he had to leave you. After your death, he vowed to never play the song ever again. The only time he broke that promise was in front of the god of the underworld as he begged to take you back with him.

When you saw Yixing, you stopped playing, mumbling an apology.

“That was a very beautiful song,” Yixing said as he willed the water in his eyes to stay put. “Where did you hear it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of been in my head for as long as I can remember.”

The first step Yixing took towards you was hesitant, knowing that the action he wanted to take would either make or break the two of you. But after another step, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Grasping your jaw with his hands, he captured your lips in his, leaning you back on the couch as you moved the guitar out of the way. You reciprocated the kiss, gripping his shirt in your hands. Yixing let go of your face to move his hands to your waist, lifting you up from the couch. In response, you wrapped your legs around his torso and he carried you to the bedroom, the dinner he’d made completely forgotten.

Day: 1,095,078

The warmth given off by you helped Yixing sleep better than he had in over three millennia. He held you close, memorizing every curve and the very scent of your skin. You were still fast asleep next to him, your breath the only sound echoing off the walls. Kissing your bare shoulder, Yixing slipped out of the bed and headed into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the smirk when he spotted the spoiled dinner.

Once that mess was cleaned up, he started on breakfast. This time he would make sure that you actually ate something.

Humming to himself, Yixing carried two plates of fresh, hot food back into his bedroom. But you were no longer sleeping peacefully, entangled in his sheets as you clung to his pillow. You were now wide awake, dressed and holding a small portrait in your hands as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Crap.

He’d forgotten about that piece he’d kept with him all these years, laying out on top of the dresser.

It was a piece of cloth, old and fraying on the edges, with your portrait painted delicately on the fibers. To preserve it, he kept it pressed under glass in a frame. He’d had it made soon after your death so he could carry it with him everywhere. Only by a miracle had it stayed in such good condition. The details in the painting were enough for anyone to see the connection between you and the subject.

“What is this?” you asked in a shaky voice. “Why does this look like me?”

Putting the plates down, Yixing approached you cautiously. “I can explain-”

“This is old,” you held up the frame, your grip so tight that your knuckles were pale. “Have you been stalking me?”

“No!” He threw himself at your feet, taking your arms in hands so he could feel more grounded as everything was crumbling around him. This what not how he wanted you to find out. He knew someday he would have to tell you, but he wanted to do it on his own terms, in a way that you would understand. “Please, listen to me. I can explain.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, shaking your head. When you finally opened your eyes again, you sighed. “Who are you?”

Taking the frame from you, he stood up and sat next to you on the bed. “Most of what I’ve told you is true, but- My name isn’t Lay. It’s Yixing. And I’m over three-thousand years old.”

“What?” You jumped up, putting space between you two. “That’s what you’re going with? Are you insane?”

“Please,” Yixing begged. “I’m trying to explain this the best I can. I truly am that old. I was cursed after I tried to save my wife.”

You frowned. “Y-your wife?”

“Yes.” Yixing stood to his feet, but when he stepped towards you, you shrank back. “She was the love of my live and I lost her. Twice. But then I got another chance. I met you.”

“So… you think I’m her?” you scoffed. “That’s the only reason you’ve been seeing me?”

“Some people are reincarnated,” Yixing explained. “It’s still you-”

“No!”

The sudden charge in your shout had Yixing taken aback.

“I’m not her,” you insisted through clenched teeth.

“But the song-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” You stormed out of the bedroom, grabbing your purse as Yixing hurried after you.

“Wait! Please!”

You slammed the door in his face, ignoring every plea he called out after you.

Shuffling back to the bedroom, Yixing picked up the frame, sliding down to the floor. The tears flowed more freely than ever as he clutched the portrait to his chest. Just when he had you back in his arms, he lost you once again.

Day: 1,095,094

Over two weeks had gone by since you stormed out of Yixing’s apartment. You wouldn’t answer his phone calls and Yixing was losing all hope of ever seeing you again. He couldn’t make you understand; all he could do was hope that you would think about what he said and maybe give him another chance to properly explain things.

With his head resting on his arm as he stared at nothing, the song he’d written for you echoed through the speakers in the studio. He couldn’t stop listening to it, wallowing in his self-pity, hoping someday he’d just go back to being numb, like how he was before he met you.

“This is a beautiful song.”

Jumping at the sound of another voice, Yixing turned around to find Shia standing a few feet away. Gone was the sour, put-out look that had been on her face the last three times he’d seen her. Now her features were softer, a sentimental smile on her lips. She wasn’t looking at him, eyes trained on the soundboard, like she was really taking in the theme and meaning of the lyrics.

Yixing turned off the speakers, turning his back to her. “Thank you,” he said sternly.

Shia walked forward, leaning her palms against the table. “That’s the kind of song I’d like to sing.”

“No,” Yixing shook his head.

“What do you mean no?” She straightened up, crossing her arms. “Did you already write it for another artist?”

Turning off the rest of the equipment, Yixing got out of his chair and slipped his arms into his black bomber. He needed to get out of here. “No. This one’s not for sale.”

Her jaw dropped, offended. “What do you mean it’s not for sale?”

“Exactly that.” What was so hard to understand that he wasn’t giving this song to anyone?

“Don’t you want people to hear this song?” she fought back. “I’d even have it as the lead single-”

“It’s not for you!”

Yixing never got angry like this. He wasn’t a yeller, a screamer, but he just wanted her to go away and stop nagging him about the song.

“Lay?”

He froze, eyes widening and throat going dry. That was just his mind tricking him in this moment, right? His hope manifesting into delusions to ease the pain?

But when he turned towards the door, it was really you standing there, shifting from foot to foot, and looking like you were about to run out of there at any point given the slightest reason to.

“(y/n)?” he gasped.

You licked your lips. “Hi.”

Shia looked back and forth between the two of you, getting a sense that she should probably leave. Without a word of goodbye, she slipped out, giving you the room.

Neither of you spoke for the longest time. Yixing had so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to drive you away again. You came to see him, so he would let you go at your own pace.

“Han came to the school,” you explained, breaking the silence. Yixing didn’t respond, just letting you continue. “He, um, he said that you’d been going through a hard time lately.”

Yixing sighed. “Please, don’t feel responsible. It’s completely understandable. The truth was dumped on y-”

“Han told me the same thing.” You shook your head, still trying to process it all. “He said that he saw the pictures of you, throughout the years. That you were really telling the truth about being alive all this time.” You took a step towards him, finally meeting his eye. “But I want to hear the rest from you.”

Testing the waters, Yixing filled in more of the space between you, even risking taking your hand in his. When you didn’t pull away, he smiled, the corner of his mouth just barely tipping up. “I told you about my wife. She died after falling ill. I wasn’t there when she passed, having left earlier in the month on business. When I came back, it was too late. But I needed her. So I went after her. I traveled to the underworld to make a deal with the god who ruled there.”

“How did you… get there?” you asked cautiously, the strain between your eyebrows giving away how hard you were working to make sense of what he was telling you.

He couldn’t help but reach out and trace the outline of your cheekbone. You were listening, taking in what he was saying without running away. “I went through several trials, met with many religious leaders. I finally found the entrance. It’s the kind of place that could only be found if the gods deem it so. I met with the ruler of the underworld and made him a deal: I could take my wife back with me to the world of the living, but I had to have faith. I had to walk back up to the surface without looking back until I crossed the threshold. Just before I reached the sunlight, though, I panicked. I wondered if I had been tricked. So, I turned around and she was there. But I’d broken the deal and she faded away just when I’d gotten her back.”

Water was pooling on the bottom lids of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you took in his story. But it wasn’t over yet.

“I lost all will to live,” he admitted. “I didn’t eat, I didn’t leave my bed. I just wanted to be with her again and that was the only way left for me after the trial. But death never came for me. I was now cursed to live forever, never allowed to see my love again because I couldn’t have faith.” Letting go of your hand, he cupped your jaw. “When I saw you walking down the street, I thought I was given a second chance. My love back on the earth with me again. Getting to know you, this you, has been the real blessing. Even if you decide to walk away, I will be forever grateful.”

When he was finished, you reached up, capturing his wrist in your hand. He thought, for a moment, that you were going to push him away again. But you didn’t.

“I don’t know if I’m actually her,” you whispered. Meeting his eyes, there was a glow in your own gaze that was making his heart speed up. “But… I can’t walk away, not now. It feels too right, being here with you. I would hope that you see me in front of you, and not her.”

“It’s you,” he confirmed. “It’s you.” He pulled you in, kissing you deeply. It felt so good to have you in his arms again, to have you believe him and receptive of his love for you. It was all true. Now he didn’t care if you really were his wife’s incarnation, not anymore. You were the one he wanted now, the one he would be thankful to have for the rest of his days, no matter how many were in his future.

Day: 1,095,103

Although the last time he left you alone sleeping in his bed ended in disaster, he still slowly slipped out from under the covers, knowing it’d be fine this time around. As quietly as he could, he slid the glass door that led out to his balcony open. He stepped out into the cool morning air and leaned up against the railing.

Life had settled in the last few weeks. You were still adjusting to certain things, like calling him Yixing rather than Lay and having him reference something that happened decades ago like it happened last week. But he’d never been happier in his immortal life.

“It’s nice to see you smiling like that.”

Yixing jumped, letting out a strangled noise in surprise. Why were you always sneaking up on him like that?

But it wasn’t you that had joined him on the balcony. In fact, it was someone he never thought he would ever see again. She probably had much better things to do than pay him a visit.

“Persephone?”

“Hello, Yixing,” the goddess greeted from the iron seat with a dazzling smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he adjusted his stance, leaning his back on the metal barrier.

“I thought I would catch up,” she said cryptically.

Yixing raised an eyebrow. “A bit late for that, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. She definitely didn’t look like the goddess that painters had depicted in their artworks over the centuries. A red pantsuit and short haircut helped her blend right in if she happened to be walking down the street. That softness that Yixing had seen so long ago was still present, so apparently not too much had changed. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “I am. Are you here to tell me you had a hand in that?”

Persephone smiled coily. “Maybe.” Releasing a sigh, she crossed her legs, letting her hands rest in her lap. “I thought it was time to give you a life again.”

“So, my punishment is over for now?” Yixing knew, even though he was living joyfully now, that eighty years down the line, he’d have to go back to his lonely existence. But he’d pushed that thought aside each time it came out. He would love you now and forever, each day was gift, the future could wait.

“It wasn’t ever meant to be a punishment,” Persephone insisted. “I knew how much you loved your wife. I wanted to give you a second chance at that love.”

“So why didn’t you just have us reborn together?” he questioned harshly.

“Because you needed to remember your past choices, so you wouldn’t make them again.”

Again? But-

Ah. Yes. He loved his wife, he did with his whole heart. But he let his passion for music get in the way, leaving her behind as he went to play concert halls and chase after the admiration of the audience when he finished a piece. The fact that he didn’t get enough time with his wife wasn’t just because she died so young, but because he was away so often. He wouldn’t do that again. Already, he was putting off studio sessions and canceling meetings to spend time with you. Maybe he really had learned from his past mistakes without even realizing it.

“Is it really her?” he asked. It was a question that didn’t really need voicing, but it slipped out anyway. No matter what the answer, he would walk back into that bedroom and hold you tightly.

But Persephone nodded. “Yes, it is. I held onto her until I thought the time was right. Most memories are erased when a person is reborn, but I left traces of you in her, despite my husband’s protests, to help bring her to you. Remember how she said she would get sad sometimes without any reason?”

Yixing gave off a short laugh. It was a faint memory of him that took you to the streets that day, allowing him to see you again. It made all those years of wandering alone worth it, absolutely.

“Yixing?”

You stepped out on to the balcony, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning. Persephone was gone, leaving the two of you alone. Opening his arms for you, Yixing pulled you in close to his chest, staring out at city skyline. He could feel your heartbeat, the steady rhythm reminding him of the rain pattering against the window on days where he felt especially lonely. He’d thought about how much he disliked the rain that day he pulled you out of the street. Now it was his favorite sound in the whole world. A sound that used to pull him down was now making him fly.

Day: 1,095,472

“Yixing! Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

“I’m coming! Just one more minute!”

Instead of finishing up, however, Yixing just found himself smiling at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The two of you were supposed to have left already for the party celebrating Shia’s newest album.

After much persuasion by you, Yixing had finally relented in letting Shia release the song he’d written for you. Now there were talks of songwriting awards galore with how successful the single had become. Yixing didn’t think he’d be able to attend the awards, needing to keep his identity as lowkey as possible, but the thought of it was elating enough.

You peeked into the bathroom, looking as amazing as ever. “Yixing, the fact that we’re waiting on you and not me is a great way to break the stereotype, but we’re seriously going to miss the launch!”

“I’ll be right there,” he promised, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay,” you sighed, stealing your own kiss from his lips before disappearing back to the living room of your shared apartment.

Fixing his hair one last time, Yixing gave himself a last onceover to make sure he looked the part of main producer. But then he spotted something that didn’t belong. Hidden among his styled black hair was a single strand of gray. Plucking it from its place, he held it up close to examine it. There it was, a gray, aged hair. Never had he ever seen one of those from his own head. Did this mean-

It wasn’t ever meant to be a punishment. I knew how much you loved your wife. I wanted to give you a second chance at that love.

Did this mean he was no longer immortal? Would he now be allowed to age and grow old with you? Only time would give way to the truth, but the hope growing in his heart was like a wildfire, raging out of control.

Out in the living room, he pulled you into a hug.

“Is everything okay?” you asked when you pulled back.

Yixing nodded eagerly. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Come on, let’s go.” He took your hand and led you out the front door, to head to the party and to the rest of your lives. Together.

[thedollarcrate]

50 Best Albums (That I Own on Vinyl) of the Decade

It’s hard to comprehend how much transpires over the course of a decade or wrap your head around how long (or short) of time that really is.

But what better way to try than to make a list!

Now, I know “Best of” lists like this one are inherently subjective – and probably say more about their maker’s preferences than actually reflecting the best music released in a particular time period. And, I’ll be the first to admit that the list below is incredibly limited, and that I need to widen my exposure to more artists and genres.

But hey, this is all in fun.

So feel free to debate, pick apart or share your own favorite albums from the past decade. But before you dive in, just a few quick points for context:

-I only ranked albums I actually own on vinyl released between 2010 and 2019, which limited my choices to about 170 records.

-I only ranked new music released this past decade, so no reissues or older material released for the first time (sorry Prince’s Piano & A Microphone and Originals).

-I first started buying vinyl around ’09-’10 and started off purchasing mostly new releases before my habits shifted and I started looking for older records. This shows in the list below – nearly a quarter of the albums below were released in 2010 and almost 70% from the first half of the decade.

And we’re off…

50. Centipede Hz, Animal Collective (2012)

Let’s be honest, it was impossible for Animal Collective to top a universally acclaimed and era-defining album – and it was unfair to expect them to. But maybe the continuous onslaught of bizarre and eclectic music found on Centipede Hz was just what we needed after all.

49. Singles, Future Islands (2014)

So much more than Sam Herring’s pelvis busting dance moves and “Seasons (Waiting On You),” every track on Singlesbursts with life and heart pumping  energy. To quote Letterman: I’ll take all of that you got.

48. Paul’s Tomb: A Triumph, Frog Eyes (2010)

I don’t think I’ll ever understand Carey Mercer’s lyrics, but I’m certain I’ll never tire of getting lost in his hidden words and knotty melodies.

47. Leaving Atlanta, Gentleman Jesse (2012)

Thirty seven minutes of Pure Power Pop Perfection (note the capital “Ps”).

46. Burst Apart, The Antlers (2011)

If there’s another album with a song titled “Putting the Dog to Sleep” that is as haunting and beautiful as this one, I don’t want to know about it.

45. Carrion Crawler/The Dream, Thee Oh Sees (2011)

With John Dwyer churning out record after record in the ‘10s, it should come as no surprise that at least one landed on this list (and they’re all great). Garage rock. Surf rock. Post-punk rock. Psych rock. Noise rock. Rock rock. I don’t care what you call it, Thee Oh Sees put the pedal to the metal on Carrion Crawler/The Dream, taking you for a wild ride that never lets up.

44. 1989, Taylor Swift (2014)

Irresistibly catchy, everyone needs to satisfy their pop sweet tooth every now and then. 1989 is so sugary, it might just give you a cavity or two.

43. City Music, Kevin Morby (2017)

The city. The countryside. A beach. Aboard a train. At the pearly gates. It doesn’t matter where you listen to City Music because Kevin Morby’s jams will immediately transport you to your own laid back, happy place.

42. Remind Me Tomorrow, Sharon Van Etten (2019)

You’ll regret it if you keep waiting to listen this powerhouse – and powerful – synth-soaked record.

41. You Want It Darker, Leonard Cohen (2016)

It doesn’t get much darker, bleaker or sparse than this, but I wouldn’t want it any other way from the masterful Leonard Cohen.

40. American Dream, LCD Soundsystem (2017)

Retirement never sounded so good.

39. Capacity, Big Thief (2017)

Quietly captivating, mesmerizing and elegant, Big Thief knock you out without you even realizing it.

38. St. Vincent, St. Vincent (2014)

Annie Clark’s shapeshifting album won’t only shred your face off, it somehow makes you feel smarter, too.

37. Before Today, Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti (2010)

So, so weird and so, so good.

36. Expo 86, Wolf Parade (2010)

Like #50, Wolf Parade might always live in the shadow and expectations of a towering classic, yet somehow Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner still continually craft eccentric and bombastic rock albums. Expo 86 is no exception, and it is an underrated classic in its own right.

35. Golden Hour, Kacey Musgraves (2018)

Like a sunset or sunrise, Golden Hour radiates beauty and warmth with each of its glowing tracks.

34. Yuck, Yuck (2011)

Despite their name and its hideous album cover, there’s nothing gross about Yuck’s infectious indie rock.

33. Play It Strange, The Fresh & Onlys (2010)

I once saw The Fresh & Onlys play at a tiny club in D.C. It might’ve been the loudest show I’ve ever been to – my ears rang for days. This record is just as rollicking, hazy and good as that show was loud.

32. Natalie Prass, Natalie Prass (2015)

There’s a reason “Welcome to 1979” is stamped in tiny letters on this vinyl’s inner ring – it’s silky smooth, filled with impeccable soft ballads and finely tuned jams – and just a tinge of funk.

31. I Am Easy To Find, The National (2019)

Few bands matched the consistent output of quality albums in the ‘10s as The National. They had one heck of a run, and I Am Easy To Find was a fascinating way to end it – a 21st rock album that felt more complex and expansive than anything they’d done before.

30. Melodrama, Lorde (2018)

Everything a pop record should be and then some – bold, breathtaking and exuberant.

29. Just Enough Hip To Be Woman, Broncho (2014)

If you can’t tell from its playful title, this pop rock album wants nothing more than to have fun – and it succeeds on every level.

28. Avi Buffalo, Avi Buffalo (2010)

Sometimes all you want is a light, sunny and meandering album to wash over you and get lost in, and this one will do the trick every time.

27. Hippies, Harlem (2010)

Imagine a band practicing inside a garage inside a garage inside another garage and you’ve got Harlem. This is garage rock to the max – and at its rambunctious best.

26. Puberty 2, Mitski (2016)

It’s hard to describe Puberty 2. Sure, it might sound like simple dreamy indie rock, but it ebbs and flows in unexpected ways that leaves you guessing where it’s heading next.

25. mbv, My Bloody Valentine (2013)

Picking up right where they left off – even if it was more than a decade later – My Bloody Valentine reminded everyone why they are the masters of reverb soaked shoegaze.

24. A Moon Shaped Pool, Radiohead (2016)

Even after all these years and albums, Radiohead still found a way to reinvent themselves and push the boundaries of rock music – and our expectations of them. With gorgeous arrangements and slow-burning, tension filled tracks, AMSP proves that even Radiohead can still take risks – and proves rock bands can make quiet, intimate songs sound epic. Oh yeah, and it has “True Love Waits.”

23. Art Angels, Grimes (2015)

Grimes gave us the future of pop music before most could even envision it. This laid the groundwork for all the challenging and intricate – and danceable – pop music that would follow. And it still sounds ahead of its time.

22. Meet Me At The Muster Station, PS I Love You (2010)

The first sounds out of Paul Saulnier’s mouth on Meet Me At The Munster Station aren’t words at all but two short, ecstatic yelps. And this same boundless energy and passion bleeds through on every fuzzy, raucous second of every track. Did I mention there’s a song called “Butterflies & Boners”?

21. More Than Any Other Day, Ought (2014)

You really ought to listen to Ought if you aren’t already. Tim Darcy and co. sound a bit uneasy, paranoid and self-aware, but they make the most minute challenges sound so exhilarating and life-altering – even the struggle deciding between two percent and whole milk at the grocery store.

20. Lemonade, Beyoncé (2017)

All hail Queen Bey.

19. Twin-Hand Movement, Lower Dens (2010)

This album sounds like 2 am on a dark, rainy Saturday night – in the best way imaginable.

18. Tomboy, Panda Bear (2011)

You can always count on Panda Bear to make hypnotic, loopy electronic music sound so breezy and effortless.

17. Modern Vampires Of The City, Vampire Weekend (2013)

I don’t know why, but I want to dislike Vampire Weekend so much. But that’s impossible when their music is so damn good and every note sounds so neat and perfect.

16. Past Life Martyred Saints, EMA (2011)

Just do yourself and listen to this album please.

15. The Archandroid, Janelle Monáe (2010)

Blending too many genres to count, this is what I imagine music sounds like in space.

14. Carrie & Lowell, Sufjan Stevens (2015)

I’ll let you know how I feel about this one after I stop crying.

13. The Suburbs, Arcade Fire (2010)

It’s everything you either love or hate about Arcade Fire. Grand, sincere and sweeping rock that swings for the fences with every guitar chord, drumbeat and horn blast. I love it.

12. Silence Yourself, Savages (2013)

Savages grab you by the throat and never let go – this is one intense album.

11. Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes (2011)

This might be the epitome of ‘10s indie rock – and for good reason. Introspective, sensitive and searching for some greater meaning, Robin Pecknold holds nothing back and lays it all out on Helplessness Blues.

10. Kaputt, Destroyer (2011)

Dan Bejar is an enigma and seemingly reluctant rock star. I saw him perform an acoustic set where he spent a majority of the time playing with his back towards the audience (although in fairness, it was at a free outdoor show on a college campus with people mostly chatting obnoxiously over him), and yet it’s as if his creativity requires him to constantly release new albums and show them off. Kaputt is as equally strange and mysterious – and just as creative – as its maker.

9. Black Star, David Bowie (2016)

Take away the heartbreaking circumstances surrounding this album’s release and it would still be in the top tier of David Bowie’s extensive catalogue. Experimenting until the very end, Bowie morphed into something entirely new one last time. Part jazz, part rock and part I’m not sure what you would call it, the results were once again out of this world. He couldn’t give it all away, but we’re sure thankful for what he could.

8. Bon Iver, Bon Iver (2011)

Shedding the cabin in the woods vibe, Justin Vernon took a giant leap forward with Bon Iver and made ‘80s soft rock popular.

7. Celebration Rock, Japandroids (2012)

Perhaps the most aptly named album on this list, no other album exudes the joy of making music and rocking out with your buddy than this one. It’s hard to believe all that noise and energy comes from just two people.

6. Burn Your Fire For No Witness, Angel Olsen (2014)

Angel Olsen’s hypnotic and seductive vocals, lyrics and guitar suck you in immediately, mesmerizing you from the first gentle strums to the peaks and valleys of “Lights Out” and “Stars” all the way to the closer’s pulsing drumbeats and majestic piano.

5. Black Messiah, D'Angelo And The Vanguard (2015)

Oozing with cool, sexy and confident R&B funk, D’Angelo returned after 14 years with an instant soul masterpiece.

4. The Monitor, Titus Andronicus (2010)

It says a lot when a band can a.) make an hour plus punk rock record b.) loosely base it on the Civil War c.) quote Abraham Lincoln d.) close it out with a 14 minute track inspired by a famous naval battle and e.) still make you want to listen to it over and over and over again.

3. Lost In The Dream, The War On Drugs (2014)

The rare album that can feel vast and ambitious and yet deeply private and personal all at once. You really will get lost in these soaring songs.

2. Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter (2010)

At times perfectly melodic and structured and at others feeling on the brink of falling apart, Halcyon Digest is a paradox – sounding peaceful, bright and idyllic while also peering over the edge into something darker. This is a remarkable record from a remarkable band. If not for the abrupt end to the darkly beautiful closer “He Would Have Laughed,” Halcyon Digest sounds like it could go on forever.

1. Let England Shake, PJ Harvey (2011)

A stunning, thought-provoking, and moving – not to mention endlessly listenable – transcendent piece of art about life and the Great War. PJ Harvey doesn’t hold back on the brutality and absurdity of armed conflict, and the album’s devastating closing track – “The Colour of the Earth” – will linger in your mind long after the record stops spinning. As powerful today as it was eight years ago, this album will remain timely and important for years – and decades – to come.