#this album is SO beautiful and has so few streams its a crime

[wickedlittlecritta]

good evening i bring you all a prog-choral concept album in Old English inspired by the book of Exeter

[wheeier]

no taking back

summary: it was only fun and games. but steve had other plans.

warnings: modern au, tooth-rotting fluff i guess, little but of swearing

+ olivia rodrigo’s sour album (stream besties), the movie tangled at the end because it just radiates as a comfort movie

yes a modern au !!! i just saw this on tiktok (the sour part, but the rest was my idea!) and thought it was so cute so it gave me an idea to make it as a fic, enjoy !!!

steve harrington x fem!reader

olivia rodrigo’s new album just released and you were thrilled to listen to it and stream it the whole day.

when you finally got to listen to it, you asked your friends—robin, nancy, and the party, if they listened to it and which ones were their favorites.

robin told you that her top three were hope ur ok, jealousy, jealousy, and brutal.

nancy said she really loved favorite crime.

max said hers was also brutal.

el told you that she played good 4 u and traitor on repeat that hopper had to go into her room to turn it down.

when mike comes over to the cabin he can assure that el does indeed play them on repeat and get pissy about it (but he secretly loves the album, but he wouldn’t let her or anyone know that).

and lastly lucas and dustin are fans of deja vu and 1 step forward 3 steps back. max even told you that they would sing the bridge of deja vu on the top of their lungs.

you slightly laughed at the memory of them telling you about it.

however, there’s one more person that you haven’t talked to about it yet.

steve.

your smile faltered and faded when he came across in your mind.

your feelings for him had deepened over the time and listening to the sour album made it feel like you two had broken up, which in fact, is not true because you were never together in the first place.

suddenly, an idea popped in your head. instead of being sad about steve, you thought about texting him, although it’s almost 1AM, you knew he’d still be up.

Sailor Man

You: hey

You: u up?

Sailor Man: duh

Sailor Man: this has been our nightly routine u always bother me when i’m about to go to sleep

You: fuck off

You: don’t pretend that you’re not binge watching outer banks until 4am

Sailor Man: i’m not?!?

You: yeah right

You: anyways

You: can u do me a favor

Sailor Man: will i get free pizza afterwards

You: no

Sailor Man: k

You: what the fuck

You: fine

Sailor Man: hehe

Sailor Man: what’s the favor ;)

You: dont get me started with that winky face i swear ure so dead when i see you at the wheeler’s house tomorrow

You: have you listened to olivia rodrigo’s new album

Sailor Man: ohh the bitter album?

You: ITS SOUR DUMBASS

Sailor Man: I DONT KNOW?!?

You: I CANT DO THIS HJAGSK

Sailor Man: shut up

Sailor Man: i’ve heard some of the songs but i haven’t fully listened to them

Sailor Man: why

You: can you like

You: ask me to be ur girlfriend then break up with me right after so i can experience and actually feel the whole sour album

Sailor Man: what

You: just do it !!

Sailor Man: you’re so funny (y/n/n)

Sailor Man: okay

Sailor Man: will you be my girlfriend?

You: yes !!!

You: ...

You: hello

You: dont tell me u fell asleep

Sailor Man: i’m not doing the last part you might as well forget about it

You: wjat

Sailor Man: :D

You: wtf

You: okay steve cut it out i’m not doing this anymore u’re not funny

Sailor Man: nope

Sailor Man: go to sleep we’re dating now that’s how this works

Sailor Man: okay i dont know if you’re still reading this now and i am terrified to say this to you in person like TERRIFIED. might piss my pants if i did. so (y/n/n), my favorite dumbass, my favorite person to talk to at night even if it interrupts my binge watching marathon, you make me so happy to the point that even when i sleep you’re still in my dreams. i like you. i have like the biggest fattest crush on you. and thank you for doing that sour album thing or whatever, because of that i get to finally ask you out

you rolled on your back after you read the message, facing the ceiling as your mind processed what just happened. was he playing with you? was he actually serious about asking you out?

Incoming video call...

Sailor Man

you took a deep breath before tapping the green button and placing it back down on the bed.

“hey,” you can tell that he was tired based on his voice. “can you show your face, please? i miss you.”

ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you hesitantly lifted the phone and shifted your position to lay on your side. “hey.”

“hey yourself.” steve grins. that stupid grin that makes your stomach turn, that grin you always want to see everyday.

“what’s..up?” you avoided looking at him and started to admire your surroundings and the posters placed on your wall. this was the only time you were glad you weren’t with him in person.

“i just wanted to see if you’re okay.” of course he will ask that. he's steve. he cares about other more than himself.

“i am, thanks.” you showed a smile that doesn't reach your ears and steve knew something was bothering you. “hey, look. i'm sorry about my confession- if it made you uncomfortable i'm sorry-”

“no,” you cut him off, looking back at his face on the screen. “i’m fine, really. you don't have to apologize. i was just, surprised.”

there was silence between the two of you for a few seconds, before you spoke again. “did you mean it?” you voice was only above whisper but steve managed to hear them. “of course,” he answered almost too quick, without any hesitation. “i've been trying to find the perfect opportunity and had been asking god for signs because i can't make a move myself-”

“asking god?” you chuckled and steve smiled hearing them, glad that he somehow lightened the mood. “well, more like begging.” he continues and you giggled.

once your laughter died you both fell into silence again. you still couldn’t believe that out of a fun joke, it would turn into a whole another situation. “so, um.. just so you know, i’m not mad, or upset, or anything. i really was just surprised. it felt like a dream because i didn’t know that you like me back and all i did was just supposed to be a fun joke but—”

“hold on, back?”

“what?”

“like you back. you said i like you back.” steve sat up on his bed and fixed his hair as his eyes widened. “i did...” you said slowly, not catching up.

“does that mean you..”

then it hit you. “oh, right. yeah. i- i like you..too.” you waited for his reaction and once you saw him smile you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.

“i knew it. and well, i guess that confirms it. we’re dating now. no taking back.” he smirks then laughs when your rolled your eyes. “don’t flatter yourself, harrington. i did not say shit.” you pointed your index finger on the screen, barely containing your giggles.

“based on your beautiful smile i think you don’t need to say it. i like you, and you like me. we’re dating.” steve gives you a teasing smile. you tried keeping your serious face but it won’t last longer so you finally smiled again. “alright, fine. no taking backs. we’re dating.” you said then laughed as he whisper-yelled ‘yes!’ while fist pumping the air.

he soon joined your laughter and you stayed like that until your jaw was pretty much in pain because of your smiles. when it was all quiet again, you both just admired each other’s presence through the screens of your phones. “i wish i was there with you.” he mumbles. “yeah, me too.” you hugged your cold pillow beside you, closing your eyes for a moment and imagining it as steve.

“are your parents home?”

you snorted at his random question. “i’m actually alone right now, they’re out because dad got promoted at his work so he and mom and i think a few friends went out to celebrate. they should be home by an hour or two. why?”

“nothing.” was all he said before hanging up. you were left confused but then he’s your best friend after all, so you knew right then and there that he’ll do something stupid. after you turned your phone off you suddenly felt watching a movie so you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn.

when it was finished and had been put in a bowl, that’s when you heard your doorbell rang—in a pattern which you recognize, and only one person does that.

you let out a quiet laugh when you realized who it was and set the bowl on the counter before opening the door.

“hi!” steve greeted you with a smile. “uh, hi?” you laughed nervously and stepped aside for him to go in. “i smell popcorn, are we having a movie night?” he says as he steps inside and shrugged off his jacket. “actually yeah, i’m planning on watching—”

“tangled.” he finishes off, you subconsciously smiled upon hearing your favorite movie. “how’d you know?”

steve snatches a few popcorns from the bowl as you both arrived in the kitchen. “(y/n), you have watched that movie 7 times this week and always gush to me about it.”

“well, you’re the only one that is around my age that i can talk to with that movie. robin and nancy aren’t that into it.” you replied, grabbing the bowl and making your way back to your bedroom, steve following your heels. “and you think i’m the best option to talk to about that?” he asks, plopping down on your bed and resting his back on the headboard.

“you’re not complaining.” you shrugged as you grabbed your laptop and sat beside steve.

“yeah, probably because i like you.” it came out of his mouth casually. you froze in place and felt your cheeks heat up, finally nodding your head slowly, “..probably.” as you typed in the movie in your laptop you felt steve scoot closer, making your breath hitch.

you were both in a comfortable silence while watching the movie, except for a few jokes and comments that steve makes and him explaining how similar he was to flynn rider.

“you know, since i’m eugene, you could be rapunzel.” he suddenly says. you eyes were still on the screen but your eyebrows furrowed. “why? i’m nothing like her.”

finally looking at steve, you almost screamed how he was already looking at you. “oh, you are so rapunzel. you may not have the longest hair in the world, but you are pretty much similar.” he replies, smiling and not taking his eyes off of you.

you paused the movie and shifted your body towards him, intrigued by his explaination. “how so?”

“well, first off,” steve starts, resting his hands on the soft mattress. “you’re both sweet, you’re both a huge ray of sunshine, have gorgeous eyes and smile, and eugene is head over heels over you — and since he doesn’t exist in real life, i’d like to be the substitute.” he finished with a confident smile.

after about three seconds, you burst out of laughter. you laughed. as much as he loves the sound of your laugh, he can’t help but pout. “(y/n), i’m trying to be sweet here!”

“i’m sorry!- it’s just- i can’t help but laugh at your flirting.” you managed to say between your laughs. you know he’s kidding but he looked at you like he was offended.

your laughter died down and held steve’s face. “it’s cute, sorry.” you mumble with a little laugh. when he finally smiled you turned to your laptop and continued the movie.

steve gazes at you for a few more seconds before watching the movie with you again. “thank you.” you whisper, glancing at him.

“you’re very much welcome, my rapunzel.” he says smiling before he slides a bit down on the bed so his head could reach your shoulder and rests it there.

you giggled as you heard him whisper,

“thank you, olivia rodrigo.”

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss Suits Up In Francis Libiran For His Christmas Soundtrack, A Very Darren Crissmas

It’s beginning to sound a lot like Christmas.

Following the success of Masquerade, Darren Criss is extra prolific in the music department this year as he is set to spread Christmas cheer with the release of his holiday-themed album, A Very Darren Crissmas.

While it can be greatly argued that all things considered, it doesn’t quite feel like the holidays just yet, especially in the strictest sense of Filipino culture, it is beginning to sound a lot like Christmas for sure. Just like clockwork, the spirit of the season was soundtracked by the likes of Mariah Carey, Jose Mari Chan, and of course, the good ‘ol classics, the onset of the ber months immediately felt warm, nostalgic, and even for a little bit, joyful. Whether it be more traditional or pop-laced, or if you are a fan of the holidays, there is something comforting about carols and songs particular to Christmas, so much so that for the longest time, musicians find some sort of success when they release yuletide-themed music. Joining the bandwagon, or dare we say, the sleigh, is Darren Criss, as he is set to release A Very Darren Crissmas.

“It really was only a matter time,” writes Darren Criss on Instagram ahead of the release of A Very Darren Crissmas. “I always knew that if I ever made Christmas album, it would have to be much more than just a collection of songs you already knew.” True enough, following the reveal of the holiday compilation tracklist, there are a few standards, but in a prolific effort, the originals stand out more, featuring self-penned tracks and interesting collaborations (Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood, Lainey Wilson). “With songs you know, songs you don’t, songs you thought you knew…and songs you never knew you needed,” as the teaser of the tracks says, this musical undertaking is not only carefully thought of, but close to his heart as well.

Taking On Christmas Cheer

“I’d want it to be a journey through songs that not only had a personal significance to my life, but also a unique introduction to songs folks had never heard before, and a re-introduction to a few they might think they know—but have never considered differently,” Darren Criss further expands on the premise of A Very Darren Crissmas. “Every eclectic choice led this album to feel astutely true to its namesake: a very, indisputably, ‘me’ Christmas.”

Making it even more unique to himself and his definition of the holidays, the album art features Darren Criss as different members of his own family. With nothing more Christmas-y than that, the award-winning actor, musician (who also just recently released, Masquerade), and OG StarKid is seen in a very holiday image where he is dressed up as his late father, his mother, his brother Chuck, and his younger self. Sitting by the piano holding out a plate of treats is present-day Darren Criss, suited up in robe-like formal in marsala brocade by Filipino designer, Francis Libiran.

Always loud and proud about his Filipino roots, Darren Criss has been known to honor his heritage whenever possible. Whether be in interviews, part of his characters (see: Hollywood, The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, and Trese), and fashion, there will always be a nod to the Philippines. In fact, this isn’t the first time he is wearing a Filipino designer.

Ever since they got connected at the 76th Golden Globes in 2019, the two artists have struck a creative bond. From The Outstanding Filipino Americans virtual awards show, the premiere of Aladdin in Hollywood, and most importantly, the reception following his wedding to Mia Swier, Darren Criss always found the perfect occasion to wear a bespoke Francis Libiran piece. The latter was the most special as they collaborated on the design elements on the piña barong tagalog with Pintados tattoo-like details to hero Cebu, the hometown of his mother, Cerina.

Raring And Ready

For A Very Darren Crissmas, a more refined and rich take on the holidays was the main consideration of Francis Libiran for the wine and gray silk brocade suit of Darren Criss. A fresh take on the traditional suit, the precision of menswear relents to the graceful curves of the lapel that extends to a nice bow, in the spirit of gift-giving, of course. “The patterns used on the suit are elegantly unorthodox, highlighting a part of him who daringly embraces the beauty of being different,” details the Filipino designer in our interview. “Here we are, absolutely humbled that Darren decided to wear us for his Christmas album.”

As if echoing the vibrant visual of A Very Darren Crissmas and the Francis Libiran suit in particular, the lead single of the musical exposition is equally bold and considered. Realized in a rousing big band orchestration, Happy Holidays/The Holiday Season is more than enough to shift your mood and slowly get into the swing of the season. Indulging in the cheer and the charm of Christmas, Darren Criss is raring and ready to redefine his holidays, dutifully inviting you into his family for a very Darren Crissmas.

Was Darren Criss hands on? How did the creative process go, despite the pandemic?

We basically presented him with style options, and then he gets to pick which one he prefers to wear. The great thing about him is that he is so open to experiment with different styles or color combinations, so it wasn’t difficult to work with him. Due to the pandemic, all of our consultations are conducted virtually, so if we need to clarify anything with Darren’s team, we discuss it online.

What were the inspirations that were worked on for this particular look?

The inspiration behind the wine and gray silk brocade suit was a combination of muted elegance and sharpness of character. It was basically Darren in a nutshell: he is a star that shines so brightly every time he delivers a performance, but he is a grounded person who never shies away from his roots.

What is it like working and collaborating with Darren Criss, especially with A Very Darren Crissmas?

Working with Darren never felt like work, actually. He is an easy person to talk to, and like I’ve said, we’ve already established a friendship. Our working relationship is mutually beneficial through our support for each other. I’d be very happy to collaborate with him in his future events soon!

A Very Darren Crissmas by Darren Criss is set to release on October 8, 2021 wherever you stream music.

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[borealopelta]

y’all sent me a copious amount of eye emojis, and thus, here it is:

Powerwolf albums ranked from least sexy to sexiest

7. Return In Bloodred

We all know the problem with this record - it’s not exactly powerwolf-y. It’s completely okay music but it’s not them. With that being said, Son of the Morning Star is amazing and y’all can’t take that away from me AND i’m gonna give it an extra point for the rerecorded Kiss of the Cobra King because without this record that would never exist. overall score: 5.5/10 not sexy at all.

6. Blood of the Saints

This record starts off with the SEXIEST song combination - Agnus Dei, Sanctified with Dynamite and We Drink Your Blood in that order is a killer trifecta. Attila’s growl of “blood of the saints” at the end of Agnus Dei is just.....yeah. Kinda disappointing how the rest of the record does not live up to that intense start though. The songs are great and I love them but they’re a far cry from sexy. Also the cover art isn’t hot enough I’m sorry. overall score: 7/10 passable

5. Preachers of the Night

Preachers of the Night is overlooked so often and I need that to STOP. y’all better start stanning this album or else. There are a couple forgettable songs on there but there’s also Coleus Sanctus, which paired with the experience that is its live performance...is a very sexy song indeed. Further honorable mentions are Sacred & Wild because it’s THE Charles Greywolf song and as the reigning Charlie simp KING I get to say it’s sexy. I’m also gonna put Cardinal Sin into the sexy category a) because it FUCKS and b) because i got my name from there and i’m sexy as fuck >:) overall score: 7.5/10 a bit more horny shit wouldn't hurt

4. Lupus Dei

I’d automatically give this a big sexy award for the colour scheme alone, but let’s get a bit more into it, shall we? First off, concept albums are difficult to make sexy and also i have no idea what their concept was here like...show me the forbidden backstory Matthew!!! Aside from that tho, this album has some of the most iconic songs on it, like the cultural reset that is Lupus Dei. There’s also Saturday Satan (it’s sexy and i will not take criticism)! And Lupus Daemonis!! Their first intro, also very hot! Honestly this is a great album and i like about 92% of it Very Much indeed, so, overall score: 8/10 give me a clearer story next time.

3. Bible of the Beast

This one is a real diamond in the rough! An obscure gem if you please! I need people streaming the shit out of this. Second instance of intro and it is by far the best one, literally will fistfight people who say Prelude to Purgatory doesn’t FUCK also the way it blends into Raise Your Fist, Evangelist??? perfection???? (Small side point i fucking love raise your fist and once again my op powers and sexiness grants it a bonus point because i said so.) But if that wasn’t convincing enough, Resurrection by Erection is on here!!! Their horniest song to date! I’m also giving bonus recognition to that beach photo of the Greywolfs captioned “bible of the beach” because like. also sexy. overall score: 8.5/10 could have done with a few more iconic bops.

2. Blessed & Possessed

This album FUCKS. This album is a sexy motherfucker and that’s the objective truth. There is not one song on that fucking tracklist that I could call even a bit not sexy. Even the chillest song (Let There Be Night) has THE sexiest energy there is. Personal favourites include Sacramental Sister (do i even have to explain why that one is sexy) and armata strigoi for obvious reasons. There’s also some more singing about blood, which is ALWAYS hot. Christ & Combat is just sexy as shit with the way it calls out everyone who glorifies the crusades, and there’s also the title track which if you tell me isn’t sexy you're a liar and a dirtbag. Bonus: the cover art is HOT and the alternate cover (the one they made into the limited shirt in the summer) is even hotter. overall score: 9.5/10 but like....it’s ALMOST a 10.

1. The Sacrament of Sin

Even the title is S E X Y!!! Demons are a Girl’s Best Friend is obviously straight pandering but I’m willing to excuse that because Killers With The Cross is THE gayest and sexiest MV ever made in the history of pw (yes it even tops Kiss of the Cobra King because that was a mess and this one is CLASSY) and yes I say gayest while fully aware of the vampire lady. I pretend I do not see it. Incense and Iron is so fucking hot and energetic and just makes me wanna go crazy. Same with Fire & Forgive and Venom of Venus!!! The amount of energy in there!!! Holy FUCK!!! Where The Wild Wolves Have Gone is THE metal ballad and its live performance is beautiful mostly but matthew’s solo is so so so so sexy who let that man do that????? Stossgebet is sexy for obvious reasons (come on its about sex we can admit that we’re adults here). I’m kinda ignoring Nighttime Rebel and Nightside of Siberia because they don’t do it for me BUT The Sacrament of Sin and Fist by Fist (Sacralize or Strike) are the epitome of sexy power metal???? And to top it ALL off they also have MIDNIGHT MADONNA here which is just. Oof. Truly a hate crime on Matthew’s end not having included it in the main album. TRULY. So like I think no one is surprised when i say that overall score: 10/10 congratulations hope album #8 only gets hornier.

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

ah yeah, i think quarentine has given people some opportunity to actually just sit with the person they are, rather than be rushing around for the person they want to become. its good you got smth good out of isolation! ah thats great! hope you had fun and ur partner in crime speeds back home so you can get out more hehe.

ah yeah ty, good suggestions.

hmm good point, i was sort of putting it separate to the whole not-sexualising thing, but yeah. mmm yeah i totally agree, some of the enhypen fics/imagines *shudder* and even reading innie stuff is just a bit *icky* cos everyone still thinks of him as our agi ppang. yeah def would be good but sadly this just seems to be the world we live in. :(

ah yes the holy masterlist (not sarc) i have actually read in the rain and gladius maximus before, but ill go look for in class! oooh thats good! character development lol. hmmmm yes champagne problems was the angst to end all angst, that shit hurt. it was actually one of the first of your fics i read and i recall almost crying over the whole thing, it was so heartbreaking, i can see how it almost made you want to drop angst. good that youve allowed yourself some lee-way tho :)

hehe thats so cool. okay here we go, ill try not to be mortally offended (/hj)

cheese - yes same, i liked it but that was all there was, it wasnt a super standout track. it was rlly underwhelming for me but some of the hook is super catchy so there is Redemption (tm) in store for cheese maybe

thunderous - mmm, yeah at first i totally agreed, i think they suffer from too much good music syndrome, that all their other tracks are such fucking bops its hard to stay at that level of perfection. the choreo was beautiful tho and tbh, the track has grown on me since ive been watching all the vids abt it. its my brothers favourite track

domino - YES GODAMMIT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE TITLE TRACK. the raps, the vocals, the vibes, the fucking domino sound in the back? i would have streamed that shit on repeat. but tbh, as good as it is, it doesnt have that sort of grandness/oomph that skz seems to like in their title tracks so i can see why they chose thunderous (tho domino would have been so good) *sigh*

ssick - yeah same, not my fave track by a long mile, the crowd cheering was a ?strange? choice and the chorus was a bit bare/empty, plus like i mentioned earlier, it was kinda funny to me for some reason but ill still play it if im playing thru the whole album

the view - ahh one of those not like other girls (/j) i honestly think its just a good party song, just a bop to play in the background when nobodys rlly paying much attention. its pretty generic pop music but catchy

sorry, i love you - hehe yeah i thought it was going to be sadder as well, but i rlly loved the fact that they all just got to sing, which almost never happens, i dont think ive heard felix sing for a long time, so i enjoyed it. wasnt rlly a standout track but i just casually like it. looking forward to the fic haha

silent cry - this song i swear, some bits are rlly good and then others are just? why?? it does sound like a dance song tho idk. definitely not one of my faves either

secret secret - YES its so good! its such a chill song and i love their vocals in it. the combination of lo-fi/fake strings backup stuff and their heavenly vocals just makes it *chefs kiss* im listening to it rn and just... its so beautiful. it gives me pumped up another day vibes ya know? like my pace is edgy get cool, this one is energetic another day i feel like. overall i love it

STAR LOST - ah thats so cool! i didnt know that! on first listen this song had a similar vibe to secret secret but then the beat came in and ahh its such a good song. i can totally imagine them putting this song to a concert footage vid, this song is so sweet.

red lights - LMAO YES ITS SO AWKWARD WHY DOES IT GO ON FOR SO LONG ah thats good! yeah good point, its quite intense hehe. but that is my fave trope and this is lowkey my favourite track on the album so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just the combination of hyunjins and chans voices, the backing music, the lyrics ahh red lights my beloved

surfin’ - yes lmao its always a shock, i feel like they should have put gone away in between them, but its such a fun cute song, i cant get rlly mad. yeah, as an aussie i think im contractually obligated to like beaches lol. sand im not such a fan of, but my familys rlly into fishing and my brother loves bodyboarding so we stay at a beach house at least twice a year and we live like 5 mins from 3 different beaches (hehe all aussie cities are on the coast lol) so thats cool. do you like beaches?

gone away - ah gone away my beloved, i love this song sm, its just so pure and showcases their vocals and lyrics so well. yes the pitch change is very out of the blue, i feel liek they went directly from seungmins soft vocals to hans powerful ones which was an interesting choice, but hey, im not complaining

wolfgang - YES IKR ah im so happy he got to be included in that era and song. yeah its such a full on song i cant rlly listen to it if im in a quiet mood but its very motivating :)

hehe mood, i hope they do! ahhh no rest, but at least you wont have to pull a blink and wait a year for any word from the group lol. im not rlly into nct but im excited for them! ah hopefully youll be able to sneak some rest into that chaotic schedule, with enhypen (idk if u stan but yeah) squeezed into it haha

<3 w.a. 🐺

i wheezed at partner in crime, it reminded me of smth. i have a lee know fic in the drafts that i wrote 'in honor' of him (and his departure-ish). i'll tag you when i finish it, if you want. it's a rather hilarious one.

oh my god. based on my experience on the collabs i've joined before, writing explicit shit for '01 & '02 is not accepted (nct's maknaes) but with enha's hyung line '01 & '02 somehow it's okay? i do a double take every time i see fics like those i mean, technically, it's legal but still what the fuck. maybe it's just not for me at the moment. not at us venting our frustration about this. it's just something that's so accepted here that i am (in all honesty) slightly uncomfortable about. but oh well. that's kpop writerblr for you.

man i could've linked all the fics in the ask instead so you wouldn't have to go looking for them! i think i saw you like in class the other day (the fic i renamed into sharp-tongued, god it took me a while to remember the new title). describing champagne problems as an angst to end all angst is one way to put what i was feeling back in december. it just hurt to write and admit?? if that ever happened to me i would prolly cry :d

okay back to the album talk! i love how you answered with more thoughts. i love exchanges like these! i am a victim of the cheese hook and it's now one of my favorite tracks in the album. PLS, TOO MUCH GOOD MUSIC SYNDROME. that's on our self-producing kings 😌💅 also, your brother has taste! as i am typing this, domino's currently playing in my head and i realized that too, that it doesn't have that 'vibe' of a skz title track. honestly, this could be a title track of another group. ssick is starting to grown on me because i found the beats cool kdjsk not the not like other girls 😭 the view is the generic pop that i don't like but i get why a lot of people enjoy it. sorry i love you scratches a certain itch that i find myself singing the first few lines every time i remember it. i too would want to hear felix sing more!

> a mini junction on the album talk bc i got side tracked. on that topic, i want skz to switch positions at some point like i know those allrounders are capable of doing so. specifically, i want to hear seungmin rap!!!! (yk in the recent weekly idol he talked faster than changbin in a challenge and changbin is like the fastest rapper in kpop that's active atm if im not mistaken. my dandy boy has some potential and i want it UNLEASHED.)

back to album talk. silent cry is basically sad music to twerk to. secret secret is definitely one of my favorite tracks :( i loved how you compared the tracks HAJSAH i burst out laughing bc yk what, you're right! i want to make a star lost edit of skz but i simply do not have the time i want to cry. i love the song so much. ok, my dreaded track, red lights. idt i have played the track since we last talked. my friend sent me the lyrics tho and i'm itching to write a twisted au out of it. idk if you're comfortable with yandere but somewhere along those themes. the obsessive type of love that's sweet at first but turns rotten. IMAGINE IF THEY PUT GONE AWAY BETWEEN ASHJA it's like going from 50 shades to the notebook.

i was about to ask if you lived near the coast and you literally mentions it here god im so stupid. yes i LOOOOOOOOOVE beaches so much. living in an archipelago is fun :( i live in a part of the country that's more island than city so every time i want some vitamin sea it's accessible. i heard the waves in australia are great :( anYWHOOO gone away :(( every time it plays im compelled to skip it because it makes me sAD AND NOWADAYS I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO BE SAD. contrary to you, i dislike my quiet moods because i tend to overthink a lot.

i have this little analogy about how there are stays that enjoy songs the generic pop + mellow songs and then there are other stays that enjoy the noisy tracks. in my mind, it's like a perfect balance that makes me feel like all the tracks are loved in the end. just by different people.

PULL A BLINK. bro i fucking hate yg entertainment. they have the biggest kpop girl group LOCKED in their basement when they could be (and i mean this in the most business-like way not morally) milking money of the quad. they're yg's biggest hope at not being bankrupt atm so it's a damn fucking mystery to me as to how they aren't doing anything. (jk i just realized lisa solo album soon, but i still need a ot4 cb hELLO)

i stopped looking forward to the teasers. rest > kpop boys. i don't want to sound like a cult member but have you tried checking out nct? are they just not your thing? (i get it tho, that's one hard group to get into). and yes i do stan enhypen!

wow i love how long these asks are! they're like online penpals. but i also want to ask about you! how have you been lately? are you feeling okay both mentally and physically? how's the weather there? do you have anything that you want to talk about? maybe an interesting book you read? feel free to bring up anything you want to share! i'm getting conscious about talking about myself HAJHSJ

and yet another long answer B) i am sooo sorry T___T should these ask exchanges feel draining to you, feel free to stop sending them in AAAA

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Horse Lords

Baltimore-based Horse Lords have been forging their own take on experimental rock music since 2012. The quartet, Andrew Bernstein (saxophone/percussion), Max Eilbacher (bass/electronics), Owen Gardner (guitar) and Sam Haberman (drums) weave together pieces drawing on divergent sources that include everything from 20th and 21st century classical music to just intonation tuning to African and Appalachian musical traditions to intricate polyrhythms and studio experiments. In a recent interview, Gardner talked about their approach to putting pieces together. “We generally write right up to the edge of our abilities. And sometimes slightly beyond. We’d had to scrap quite a few songs because they proved to be basically impossible to play... It keeps it interesting.” Ian Forsythe covered their newest release, The Common Task, noting that “Their nearly ten-year core pivots rhythmic and tonal ideas athletically, and their ability to pull elements from anywhere and everywhere is seemingly more fluid with each record.”

For this Listed, the four members runs down a list of live shows, recordings, blogs, movies, and books that have been on their minds.

Gleb Kanasevich plays Horațiu Rădulescu’s “Inner Time II for seven clarinets (Op.42b),” Baltimore. 2018 (Owen Gardner)

A near-hourlong ear workout, combining impressive sonic and structural brutality. The interaction of what these close dissonances do inside your ears with what the clarinets do in space (Gleb played live with 6 recordings of himself, meticulously arranged around the audience) is a haunting experience, celestial but with no concession to human music.

Maryanne Amacher — Perceptual Geographies, Philadelphia 2019 (Owen Gardner)

https://issuu.com/bowerbirdphilly/docs/amacherprogramonline

So much revelatory material has come out of the Maryanne Amacher archive so far, and particularly these loving reconstructions of her instrumental music. A lot more attention seems to have been given to “Petra,” which is certainly gorgeous and shows fascinating symmetries with the spatial/timbral concerns of her electronic music, but “Adjacencies” struck me as the Major Work of 20th Century Music. She wrote the damn thing in 1965 and it sounds fresh half a century later, which we can say of no previous piece of percussion music and not much written subsequently. I am slowly losing my mind waiting for Amy Cimini’s book on Amacher to come out, craving a deeper dive into her theory and methods.

Sarah Hennies, Bonnie Jones, Lê Quan Ninh, and Biliana Voutchkova at the High Zerofestival, Baltimore 2019 (Owen Gardner)

One of at least three great things Sarah Hennies did last year (Reservoir 1 on Black Truffle and the 90 minute cello/percussion duo “The Reinvention of Romance” being the others) was to take part in Baltimore’s High Zero festival, four mind-frying days devoted to free improvisation. This set was one of the highlights of 2019’s festival; each of the four performers having at least one foot in composed music (Ninh is a long-time Cage interpreter and Biliana has collaborated with Peter Ablinger) seemed to lend it a certain sureness and serenity, but ultimately their combined strength as improvisors (fastidiously captured by High Zero’s crack recording team) is what makes it such an engaging listen.

El Chombo — Cuentos de la Cripta (Owen Gardner)

A relentless tetralogy that nicely balances the rawness of ‘90s proto-reggaetón productions (the first volume self-identifies as “Spanish Reggae”) and the slicker, synth-oriented sound and settled genre conventions we’ve come to enjoy (or not) in the 21st century. This was helpful when working on “People’s Park,” not least for its insistent connection to Jamaican music. I can understand very little Spanish but I'm guessing the lyrics are not unproblematic; signifying language always disappoints.

Wallahi Le Zein! (Owen Gardner)

http://thewealthofthewise.blogspot.com/

An invaluable resource for anyone interested in African music, much more consistent and informative than the often yucky reissue market, which seems to prioritize awkward (and marginal) attempts at Western musical fads—as if what was available was not an impossibly rich and heterogeneous network of self-sufficient musical cultures but merely a broken mirror facing America. The archive of Mauritanian music alone makes this the most worthwhile stop on the information superhighway. There’s plenty of goofy drum programming and appalling sound quality if that’s your bag, but the rich variety of traditional musics is what keeps me coming back.

Miles Davis — On the Corner (Max Eilbacher)

Some might say Stockhausen serves imperialism but he did his little part to help cook up some of the most twisted American Jazz/funk jams ever. Davis only kept one cassette in his convertible sports car during the On the Corner sessions, a tape of “Hymnen.” He would take each member of the band on highspeed joy rides with the car’s stereo system on full blast. That same energy was channeled in the arrangement and editing. The convergence of a lot of different elements keeps this record on my top 10 list ‘til the end of time. The little detail of Americans taking concepts from European Neu Musik and making something incredibly funky and pleasurable is the cherry on top.

Olivia Block & Marcus Schmickler at Diffusion Festival, Baltimore 2018 (Andrew Bernstein)

This was an amazing pairing, with both artists playing in 8-channel “surround sound.” Marcus’ set was incredibly intense. Pure synthesis with a lot of psychoacoustic inner ear tones and unending overlapping melodies. It felt like the sonic equivalent of watching a strobe light at close distance. Olivia’s set was a slow creep, laying samples to create lush textures that were truly immersive. This was the kind of concert that reminds you of the awesome power of music.

Blacks’ Myths at the Red Room, Baltimore 2019 (Andrew Bernstein)

Blacks' Myths II by Blacks' Myths

I’m there for anything bassist Luke Stewart touches (see Irreversible Entanglements, his solo upright + feedback work, frequent collaborations with too many people to name). Blacks' Myths, his bass and drumset duo with Warren Crudup, is loud, noisy, and intense, and this set at the Red Room last year was particularly transcendent.

“Blue” Gene Tyranny — Out of the Blue (Andrew Bernstein)

Out of the Blue by "Blue" Gene Tyranny

I have probably listened to this record more than any other the last few years. Perfectly crafted pop songs segue into proggy funk jams and then into stream of consciousness drone pieces based around the doppler effect. I’ll put it on over and over again, an experience with an album I haven’t really had since I was in high school.

Bill Orcutt — An Account of the Crimes of Peter Thiel and His Subsequent Arrest, Trial, and Execution 2017 (Max Eilbacher)

AN ACCOUNT OF THE CRIMES OF PETER THIEL AND HIS SUBSEQUENT ARREST, TRIAL AND EXECUTION. by BILL ORCUTT

Legendary underground American guitarists from the most important American rock band also makes top notch conceptual digital audio art. Years ago I thought computer music lacked a certain sub cultural attitude. While this was/is not true, this 2017 release feels like it exists in its own world. High and low brow are in perfect harmony for this patterned enjoyable hellride of a listen. What if Hanne Darboven had to make art while working a full time job and dealing with mild substance abuse?

Lina Wertmüller — Seven Beauties 1975 (Max Eilbacher)

By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42000553

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Beauties

During this pandemic I have been talking film shop over emails nonstop. I went through a big Wertmüller phase in 2018-2019 and as people are trading recommendations I usually try to recommend something by her. This film is the one that I keep reaching for. The email recommending this film usually starts as a draft with “this is really intense” and then I try to hearken back to my film school days and write about the male gaze, patriarchy, communism or something of that nature. I end up writing a bit, feeling like it’s way over the top for a casual email and then I end up deleting everything except “this is a really intense and beautiful film.”

Chaos: Charles Manson, the CIA and the Secret History of the Sixties by Tom O’Neill (Sam Haberman)

https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/tom-oneill/chaos/9780316477574/

The last book I managed to check out of the library before it closed. Though it in some ways resembles works of conspiracy theory, Tom O’Neill is always straightforward in telling the reader that, though the official story of the Manson case is almost certainly not true, the actual details don’t cohere into any kind of Meaning. Every new discovery is its own digression that points to a new unknowable truth or unverifiable claim. This really inverts the normal thrill of conspiracy theory, which invites you to either buy into the story being presented or reject it all together, either path offering its own sort of comfort. Chaos offers no such comfort.

[onestowatch]

13 Music Podcasts You Should Be Listening to Right Now

In case you haven’t quite got the memo, Spotify is for a lot more than streaming Billie Eilish and a playlist made up of lo-fi chill beats on repeat. The past few years have witnessed a veritable boom of podcasts, from both self-made creators and massive media outlets, covering a whole spectrum of topics and niche interests. As someone who has listened to over 70 hours of “The Adventure Zone,” a Dungeons & Dragons podcast hosted by three brothers and their dad, in spite of never having once thought of actually playing a game of D&D, it is safe to say this is no passing fad.

Podcasts exist as an inside look into a host of worlds you never once considered exploring, and this goes equally true for music podcasts. From in-depth examinations of your favorite artists and their works to dramatized true crime–style narratives of legendary artists, these are the music podcasts you need to be listening to right now. 

Also, if you needed even more music podcasts in your life, did you know Ones To Watch has its own battle-style podcast where four tracks enter the ring and only one leaves victorious? 

Switched on Pop

There is no escaping pop music, so you may as well enjoy, examine, and eventually begin to understand why exactly it is so popular. At least, that’s the ethos behind musicologist Nate Sloan and songwriter Charlie Harding’s phenomenal podcast. Each episode sees the duo breaking down pop songs to posit the question of what makes a song like “bad guy” or “Old Town Road” a hit, and what is their cultural significance in the music landscape at large? Balancing lighthearted humor with critical analysis, Switched On Pop is a podcast that will have you loving music you never knew you liked in the first place. 

Where to Start: “Billie Eilish is a Different Kind of Pop Star (ft. FINNEAS)”

Dissect

Dissect is a music nerd’s dream podcast. Hosted by Cole Cuchna, the hit podcast series is rare in that rather than jumping from topic to topic with each episode, each season of “Dissect” holds a magnifying glass to one prolific work of one seminal artist. From the mythos of Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Ms. Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, to Tyler, The Creator grappling with his sexuality on Flower Boy, there is no shortage of reasons of why you need to be listening to Dissect.  

Where to Start: “S4E14 - Epilogue: IGOR”

Song Exploder

Song Exploder may just be the best interview series in existence, largely due to the podcast functioning as less of a traditional interview series and more as a vivid recollection of artist’s most heartfelt work. The podcast series features musicians from all walks of life, from Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham to Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, taking apart a single one of their songs piece by piece. It is akin to your grandparents recounting one of their fondest memories to you, if your grandparents just so happened to be world-renowned artists.  

Where to Start: “Maggie Rogers - Alaska”

Disgraceland

In the wake of the massive popularity of True Crime podcasts like “Serial,” Disgraceland marries all there is to love about rock star worship and a culture’s obsession with the seedier aspects of the human condition. Blending music history, true crime, and transgressive fiction, Disgraceland is a dramatized retelling of some of music’s most enthralling criminal stories. Imagine the already engrossing stories of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. or Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, albeit told through an exhilarating and entertaining modern-noir lens.

Where to Start: “Amy Winehouse: Rehab, the Muse and a Rare Talent”

And The Writer Is…with Ross Golan

Have you ever wondered who is the person behind some of your favorite songs? Then And The Writer Is… is the podcast for you. Each episode takes you behind the closed doors of the music and into the songwriting room with some of the greatest songwriters and creatives of our generation. If you love anything by any of today’s biggest artists, then chances are they have probably appeared on an episode of And The Writer Is… to provide an inside glimpse into their creative process. 

Where to Start: “EP 54: Ben Gibbard (Death Cab For Cutie)”

Questlove Supreme

You shouldn’t be listening to Questlove Supreme just because its host is none other than the infamous Questlove (although that would honestly be more than enough reason for us). For starters, Questlove Supreme arguably features some of the best guests out of any other podcast out there. Ever wanted to hear John Oliver talk about his transition from The Daily Show to shaping people’s political opinions regularly? Or ever wondered about Michelle Obama’s first musical memories? Then, good news, because Questlove Supreme has all you could ever need and so much more.

Where to Start: “Ep. 113 feat. Michelle Obama”

Twenty Thousand Hertz

Twenty Thousand Hertz is likely the most prominent outlier on this list. That is not to say this is not a podcast of note, equally as deserving of your precious listening hours; Twenty Thousand Hertz simply does not address music or artists in the traditional sense. Rather, this is an examination of the sounds, the sonic textures, and the crucial building blocks that have allowed artists to create works that truly move people. Twenty Thousand Hertz is not just for music lovers, but for those who appreciate the perfectly intangible idea of sound as a simultaneously human-constructed and natural concept.

Where to Start: “#72 | 808”

Punch Up The Jam

Punch Up The Jam is a comedy and music podcast. How does that work exactly? Well, comedians and best friends Miel Bredouw and Demi Adejuyigbe invite one of their equally hilarious friends to attempt to fix a popular song, despite having absolutely no qualifications so to speak of. Laughs are had, chaos ensues, and more laughs are had as Punch Up The Jam begs the question: do you need to know anything about music to improve a hit song?

Where to Start: 77 - “Kiss From a Rose (w/ Travis McElroy)”

All Songs Considered

It would be impossible to create a definitive list of music podcasts without mentioning NPR's All Songs Considered. The nearly 20-year-old series has grown with the times, evolving from a lauded radio show to an award-receiving podcast. The generation-spanning medium for music discovery is hosted by Bob Boilen and Robin Hilton, and often features a range of guests that makes this already much-celebrated podcast into essential listening material.

Where to Start: “All Songs Rewind: The Worst Songs Of All Time?”

Hit Parade

For Hit Parade, the phrase “it’s a smash” is more than just A&R short-hand for any passing song they hear in mid-production; it is the genesis of music history. Produced by Slate, pop chart analyst Chris Molanphy seeks to uncover what exactly it was that made a song a number one smash. More than just a terribly informative music podcast, Hit Parade changes up its formula through bouts of trivia, music snippets, and enthralling storytelling.

Where to Start: “The Oh. My. God. Becky Edition”

Popcast

The best way to understand the very notion and ever-changing minutia of popular music is Popcast. Hosted by New York Times pop critic Jon Caramanica, Popcast homes in on not just what is trending on the Billboard charts but what is trending, period. From Taylor Swift and Scooter Braun’s ongoing civil war, the perplexing economics of the streaming era, to how memes can create bonafide artists, Popcast is what you need to be listening to in order to sound erudite at your next dinner party, even if you find yourself in spirited discourse over Lil Nas X.

Where to Start: “How Many Streams Is a T-Shirt Worth? Breaking Down Chart Dilemmas.”

Ongoing History of New Music

This next podcast is dedicated to all our lovely Canadian readers, or really anyone who is looking for an enlightening deep dive into music’s most notable artists and movements. Hosted by legendary Canadian radio broadcaster and music journalist Alan Cross, Ongoing History of New Music is Canada’s most well-known music documentary series. Featuring artists profile from the likes of Radiohead to Twenty One Pilots, narrative journeys of everything from Christian Rock to Britpop, and even the etymology behind some of music’s most elusive terminology, Ongoing History of New Music is a musical history wellspring.

Where to Start: “Stories Behind Songs”

The Great Albums

The Great Albums is a podcast series wholly true to its name. In unexpected yet utterly delightful fashion, co-hosts Bill Lambusta and Brian Erickson delve into some of pop, rock, and beyond’s greatest moments and musical accomplishments. More than just a track by track review of a seminal work from the likes of Jay-Z, Joni Mitchell, and Sufjan Stevens, The Great Albums is an examination of the notion of fandom and how that love affair is expressed through the lens of the prolific album.  

Where to Start: “Radiohead - OK Computer”

[whitehotharlots]

The Day of the Wokeists

 Before we begin, here’s a brief list of musicians whose work has not been pulled off streaming services, whose records are still for sale online and in shops, and whose labels did not issue massive recalls:

Remy Ma, who shot someone, and then while on trial for the shooting had a group of friends beat up the boyfriend of a witness.

Jerry Lee Lewis, who married his 13-year old cousin and then broke into Graceland in 1974 to try and murder Elvis.

Rick James, who locked a 24-year-old woman in his basement for six days, raped her repeatedly, and burned her legs and genitals with his crack pipe.

Phil Spector, who pulled a gun on 4 separate women who refused to sleep with him, and eventually shot a 5th woman in the woman in the mouth, killing her.

Mark E. Smith, the world’s angriest-looking man and serial domestic abuser.

Chuck Berry, who installed cameras in the bathrooms of the restaurant he owned and taped women as they peed.

Ice Cube***, who beat the shit out of a female rapper at her record release party while his bodyguard threatened to shoot anyone who tried to intervene.

Ian Watkins, lead singer of Lostprophets, who convinced several female fans to allow him to rape their small children. When police confiscated his computer he had to give them his password so they could unlock it. It was—I swear to god—“ifuckkids.” 

That’s just the first several that popped into my head. I didn’t even need to google them. And that’s also just very major offenses, not including minor crimes such as when Paul Simon appropriated African culture, or when Vampire Weekend appropriated Paul Simon’s appropriation. Or that Jamie Killstein guy who got popular for being Super Woke but then wasn’t nice enough to the groupies he fucked.  Or Iggy Azalea and Azalea Banks—I forget which is which, but I know one is bad because she is white and raps while the other is a black woman who thinks that gay people are demons.

So, okay, let’s talk about a hot musical act called PWR BTTM. They are a pair of queer, gender-fluid youngsters who write painfully simplistic teen angst rock. The music is middling, I think. I’m frankly happy whenever I see any young people playing guitars, but their sound reflects the boring edgelessnes that typifies “indie” music in the late twenty-teens. Maybe I’m just getting old, or maybe their music is objectively dull. I dunno. At any rate, it’s inoffensive but doesn’t do much for me.

In interviews, the kids seem charming: introspective enough for people in their early twenties, honest, pleasingly effeminate, self-possessed but not cocky. There’s no obvious signs of idiocy or pretension.

Their shtick is shtick, only now shtick has become conflated with people’s deep-seeded (inalterable, unquestionable) identities, so it’s super loaded and dangerous to comment upon. So, umm, they’re gender fluid. And they express that by covering themselves in glitter. Which makes their concerts seem safe to other kids who indentify as non-binary.  I’ll accept all that at face value.

Yesterday, the group’s new album had just dropped and it was getting rave reviews: 4 stars from NME and Rolling Stone, and a B+ from Consequence of Sound. Stereogum compared them to Sleater-Kinney, Fugazi, Husker Du, and the Beatles.  Again, I am not a musicologist and my taste is just my taste, but I own literally every album released by each of those groups and I can find zero trace of any of them in PWR BTTM. But that’s just me. 

Woke Social Media was even more effusive in its praise. They were, in actuality, borderline violent in their praise. This morning, I found over 20 accounts that were angry the album was getting less-than-perfect reviews (B pluses instead of A’s) and accused the aforementioned publications of being all sorts of phobic. It wasn’t enough to compare PWR BTTM to the Beatles. PWR BTTM needed to be called better than the Beatles.

But then god shrugged. Posts began to emerge. PWR BTTM, it turned out, were not woke purveyors of safety and inclusion. Oh no. They were rapists.

A lone facebook poster said she knew of several people who had been somehow molested by the group—details were sparse, but they alluded to bandmates hitting on people who didn’t want to be hit on, trying to sleep with people under 18, and “violating consent.”  Others posted, as well, all saying not they themselves were victims but that they had heard of others who were victims. Most damningly, (which is to say, most specifically) Jezebel published an account of an anonymous woman who claimed one of the bandmates tried to have sex with her while she was passed out.

The denunciations came in an avalanche. Their label dropped them. All, or nearly all, venues canceled. Their opening acts and touring band members quit.  All copies of their music was removed for purchase from streaming sites, new physical copies of their album cannot be bought on Amazon, and their label is offering to refund the money of anyone who bought the record. (Amazon is offering used copies of their latest for $30.00 per CD; LostProphets’ “Liberation Transmission,” meanwhile, is free to stream with Amazon Prime and can be ordered on CD for $5.99, shipping included).

So we have two possibilities, here:

A couple of young queer kids were/are really big sex creeps, and they’ve been allowed to prey freely upon vulnerable kids because they do a good job of using woke terminology.  OR

A couple of young queer kids are weirdos, have probably creeped out or angered people but haven’t actually done like actual Assault, but they are now being unduly smeared through thirdhand, low-follower social media accounts making accusations that are absolutely unverifiable.

At any rate, the only acceptable reaction to an accusation is enthusiastic and unqualified acceptance. So PWR BTTM’s career is now done.  Period. Anyone who does not sufficiently distance themselves from the band are subject to immediate excommunication from polite society. This very overview I am writing, if it gets noticed by more than a few hundred people, will be considered tantamount to physical assault, and people will try to identify me so as to get me fired.

And here, my friends, the foundational psychosis of the Woke Edifice has been laid bare. You cannot provide broad inclusion while demanding absolute conformity.  Absolute conformity results in blunt reactionaryism, exclusion, violence, and heaps of obvious and unappealing self-contradiction. One minute you’re demanding the head of a writer for daring to suggest that a band’s identity gimmick doesn’t make them the greatest musical act of all time; the next, you’re demanding that no one so much as begin to question the fact that that band is raw evil.

I don’t want to dismiss the beauty of the connection that musicians can have with their fans, how seeing PWR BTTM act uniquely queer was probably very empowering to lots of young people and so these revelations must really suck. But, like, it’s still just a band: they were never actually protecting anybody or setting anyone free. At heart, the identity stuff was a gimmick. PWR BTTM were able to manipulate their audience—or were able to be taken down so absolutely, so quickly—because the rules that guide the ethical precepts that envelop and create their audience are both flimsily constructed and viciously enforced. Wokeness is very, very easy to manipulate but still somehow almost impossible to control. Once unleashed, it will always consume its purveyors, the wasters will always become the wasted.

It’s no coincidence that wokeness elevates cultural trifles into matters of absolute import. By definition, a demand for conformity must be policed in a harsh and aggressive manner, which leaves no room for consideration, discussion, or even basic self-evaluation. Blatant hypocrisy goes unquestioned, and so do takes that are absolutely and objectively incorrect.  The most superficial signaling is celebrated as enlightenment , and any efforts toward complication are considered a sign of evil and disease.

But here’s the neat thing, demonstrated by the list that began this piece… these rules only apply to the people who subscribe to them. And subscription is voluntary, for those who don’t work in the media and/or have sense enough to keep their opinions off of the internet. And every time a fire like this one starts up, the woke sphere tightens its demands and gets a little meaner, and it becomes even more unappealing for everyone who isn’t already initiated.

***It was Dre who beat up the female rapper, not Ice Cube. I guess I actually should have googled it...

[theparaminds]

There is no beginning, there is no end. There is only growth, there is only improvement. This has become the ongoing mantra stupid rich kid revolves his artistry around, the ideology he answers his anxieties with and the philosophy he’s used to open more doors than he could’ve imagined possible. It was often unnatural for his truest self to be reflected within his work, feeling as though he needed to fully understand the complexities of the human existence before speaking on any of them. Yet now, he knows his understanding, and subsequently, his highest art will come by overcoming the entrapping stagnation, expressing all he intakes with unflinching, beautiful confusion.

Coming off the heels of a new EP and on the cusp of a brand new album, stupid rich kid has a new pathway at his fingertips, a chance to subvert his past mistakes. A chance to create the narrative surrounding his work. By pairing his wise-beyond-its-years lyricism with the lush auditory playground he’s established, stupid rich kid is teaching as he learns, finally living life without the fear and distractions that woke with him in the morning, and stayed with him as he attempted to sleep at night.

It’s, above all, stupid rich kid’s endless pursuit for artistic truth, and therefore personal bliss, that explains the core of essence. Like a beach in winter, it doesn't always make sense, but it’s the alluring contrast between confusion and beauty that builds a musical landscape like no other. His commitment to progressing himself towards the promised land of artistry is to be admired, to be cherished. While he may not know the end, and often wants to disregard the beginning, it is the present which he has grounded himself within, living with a joy previously unknown and a passion ignited brighter than ever.

Our first question as always, how’s your day going and how have you been?

I've been real good, real tired though, but staying busy.

Yesterday you were posting a little of being at Laneway fest, how was it to be around that creative atmosphere and see a lot of the scene come together?

It was good, just cool to have good fun. It was nice to see people having a good time and I really had a nice day.

It's a crime not to start with the most obvious thing, you just released a new EP. What’s kinda been your reflection on the reception and have you gotten the peace you hoped to achieve from it?

I haven’t been too proud of anything I’ve released up until this EP. When I was 15 and super young, I was also naive and had no idea what I was doing, especially when I released Girl, which I’ll be taking off of streaming. With next to no self-confidence or ability in music, I spent a whole year staying real low key and just working on myself as an artist, searching for my sound. I think the singles I released over 2018 were cool and I was starting to find my sound a bit more for sure, but still didn’t sit right. I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t happy with who I was, how I got there or where I was going, which is something I talk about quite a bit on the EP and album. The EP is definitely a truer reflection of my sound and vision, and 2 years later, I’m feeling a lot more comfortable as an artist. I never have any regrets, because regrets are just mistakes you’ve made that you haven’t done anything to fix. Definitely made a few mistakes at the start of my career, but I’m slowly patching them up and learning along the way. I’m still young, I just turned 18, and I’m just trying to constantly prove and improve my artistry to everybody and more importantly, myself.

In your mind, you talked about it being a prelude to the album. How do you think it'll compare between the two projects and what can people expect from the next one?

In my mind, I don't think I’ll be as surface level on the next one. I know that I'll talk about things I usually don't but need to explore in depth much more.

Is it key to you to always challenge yourself and not allow yourself to stagnate?

Yeah exactly, I look back at the EP already and wish I changed certain things. That's why it's good practice though, every song is different and it teaches me what people do and don't like and it surprises me as well, as their ideas sometimes differ from mine.

The songs are very different on the project, but you also talked about how you made the project in a couple months, so has it been just a month of learning and experimentation?

I had Attitude and Sonar in the works already, with Libra sign already out there, so it wasn't hard to put together, but to get the songs to the level I wanted was a little more difficult and it was just good to finish something completely.

As the last two months have gone, even though it's a short span, is there art, music or movies you've found yourself drawing from that really shaped this EP?

Taylor Swift generally shaped a bit of it, I don’t know why, shoutout to Taylor Swift. Skate 3, like the video game, that had a lot of impact on it. And generally just my friends and all that helped a lot.

What would you say then is your favorite video game?

I have like every Assassins Creed so probably that, I haven't played them in years, but honestly probably that.

While you did have a lot of collaboration on the EP and with past single releases, is that something you hope to continue with the album or do you want to become more singular?

I prefer working with people 100%, I get the best product of myself if I’m working with other people. I always end up pushing them, which ends up makes them push me and then we get something stronger out of it. The more somber songs I like to be like a cat and just take my time and stroll around.

When you're working with people it’s not competitive though, is it? It's more wanting to just create the best art possible from what you're saying.

I've felt both before and I'll tell you that I've never released anything that I’ve felt was competitive just because it's terrible and not why I make music. I always say that talent is not based on streams, and people need to see that.

Well at times it does feel like the New Zealand scene doesn't get the recognition due to location and whatnot, and it seems like you have a strong understanding that fame doesn't equal success. Which poses the question of what you do see as success if it isn't fame or fortune?

Honestly in some respects, as long as I’m happy I’m successful. I want to work with my idols. Success looks like changing the name for New Zealand and showing that we make really cool, special stuff.

If you could hold a show anywhere on the planet, with money not being a restriction, where would you do it at?

Pink Floyd played it once back when they made Echoes. It’s this like Roman amphitheater, that one is unreal beautiful and I’d go there in a heartbeat.

As you're prepping for this album, what personal goals do you want to achieve beyond music and art?

I guess staying really happy. I always talk about happiness like a wave that goes up and down, I always got scared when I was younger because when I was happy I knew it would go downhill and I’m at that point now, so I don't want to fear it going back down.

In your process, when you created a set of songs and you're trying to cut it down, how do you filter out what's artistically necessary?

It has to all flow from start to finish, it has to be like a Pink Floyd album. It’s like how you don't want to watch a movie with the scenes all out of order. It should be like a rollercoaster.

When you create, do you feel as though you have a goal to resonate with certain listeners or is your output more so for you and something you're just happy others relate to?

I don't know, whenever someone's asked this always just says ‘that outcast kid’ they want to connect to, and I for sure feel that. But instead of just the outcast kid and saying I've been you before, I want to do that for everybody. I played a show not that long ago where there all types of vastly different people in one room, but they were all cool with each other and enjoying the same songs.

One aspect you haven’t fully delved into is the visual side to your art. Is that something you hope to build more on leading to this album?

Yeah, I have an art director now, so we’re planning a lot of crazy visuals and I think the rollout for the album will be very visual based and something unique.

On that note, what’s your favorite music video you’ve ever seen?

Nikes by Frank Ocean for sure. I remember that was such a great roll out. I had Endless on a tab in my computer at all times and was just listening whenever I could. I also spent all money on the Boys Don’t Cry Mag and both his Vinyl.

Wow, you're a legend for having all of that. What in your mind is the biggest inspiration you draw from Frank and his work?

Well, I'm not super inspired by him in a musical sense. I actually feel I don't draw anything in that way. But I've always loved his elusiveness, the fact he's so big and no one knows him. I also just love that he's always challenging himself.

As a final question, what is the memory that at the end of this year, you hope to create for yourself? The one you want to leave this year knowing you got to experience?

I want to see myself having heaps of fun, just with my friends, ones I have and haven’t met yet. Making all the music in person and seeing it all come to fruition in person is my biggest vision for sure.

Do you have anyone you want to shout out or anything you want to promote? The floor is yours.

Shouts out everyone on the EP; so that’s Garrett (Postcard Boy), Seungjin, Maxwell (Young). Tom (Verberne) as well. Oh and then also Yuki (Hugo) and James Thorrington!

Follow stupid rich kid on Instagram and Twitter

Listen on Spotify and Apple Music

[avaliveradio]

1.28 New Music Rap Caviar Monday

WELCOME TO AVA LIVE RADIO #RAPCAVIAR FEATURING A WIDE SELECTION OF MUSIC FROM THE HIP HOP CREATORS OF THE WORLD.

LISTEN TO THE SHOW AT 12 PM ET Monday:

The Anchor Fm page: https://anchor.fm/ava-live-radio

iHeartRadio station page : https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-AVA-Live-Radio-Musi-29336730/

The Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/2toX0f3dPmI8gmUSOKZicx

FEATURED ARTISTS..

Artist: High Diamond Lights

New Release: Marine Biology

Genre: Pop/RnB

Located in: Baltimore, Maryland

A song that talks about love, loss and eventual acceptance over a long term relationship gone wrong. Originally created as a metal song from his previous band, High Diamond Lights adapted it to breath new life into the work making it now the first song released off of his newest album “Synesthesia” now considered a Milestone in his music development.

My music is heavily focused on the trials and tribulations all of us go through, whether it be Love, loss, self acceptance, and any other many emotions we deal with as people.

The music we are creating is highlighting all of the nuances of this album as compared to my mixtape “Anacrusis”.

Right now we are... I am currently in the process of recording a brand new album. I am confirmed to be working with a bigger name from the alternate/rock scene. More of that will be talked about following completion of the song.

LINKS:  Facebook.com/highdiamondlights Instagram.com/highdiamondlights https://open.spotify.com/track/6Dw7VxKspNIuPyaPZaqhoU?si=WYrSH6zcT8WzfU4MYR73OQ

Nat Berhanu Song name: The Realist Music Genre:: #Trap #Pop #Hiphop

Located... United kingdom The title reflects how life has been so far #TheRealist is about facing what is in front of us and winning and moving on. Not to be afraid. Be strong and courageous and giving hand to those that need it.

My music is... about Water Light. The concept is about encountering negativity with being positive, put the fire out with water when there is fire. To celebrate, to dance, to chill.

How do you think this release represents your current direction.. I have to get on radio and gain more listeners. Also for those who have heard my music, their will see a difference in the current release.

Website & social media links: https://nilemerchant.biz https://www.instagram.com/nilemerchant https://www.facebook.com/MusicSitsInMySoul https://twitter.com/NatBerhanu https://www.pinterest.co.uk/natberhanuI

Artist: Josh Monday

New Release: Keep Me Away

Genre: Christian Rap/Rock

Located in: Rialto California

‘Keep Me Away’ was inspired while the songwriter was listening to his Pastors sermons. The hook 'Keep Me Away from the sins of today’ is a prayer you could say every morning. The versus are thanking Jesus for everything he has done for us and USA. The first Single from his new Album ‘Any Given Monday’. to be released in this summer (2019). The artist plans to release a single a month until then.

Right now we are... I made a music video for ‘Keep Me Away’ and so far in 28 days it has 4700 views. I’m working on a New Music Video for a song Called ‘Who Do You Call’ that will be released March 1st 2019. I have 2 more songs to complete my Album Any Given Monday.

LINKS:  Spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/track/4IeukMxdxWYnjJgBydd23m?si=-ec0PWvgTvihPMnadfaX9g You tube URL: https://youtu.be/zGdpzaCzMgE Instagram: @joshmondaymusic CD baby link:http://store.cdbaby.com/cd/joshmonday You tube page: Joshmondaymusic

Artist: STEPHANIE HERTIN

New Release: BURNIN' https://open.spotify.com/artist/2ZU0Mb4dW1d7ZoZjNgssiS

Genre: Pop Hip Hop Trap Music

Located in: London, United Kingdom

Burnin’ is all about attraction, seduction, and those good sexy animalistic vibes between two people. The artist strives to captivate her audience and feed into your fantasy with a dreamy state of consciousness that takes you to another level.

Right now... I am actually planning a performance for next month and I am recording an album. The songs are still in the writing process but I’ve been feeling very inspired.

LINKS:  https://www.stephaniehertin.co.uk https://www.instagram.com/StephanieHertN https://www.facebook.com/StephanieHertin https://open.spotify.com/artist/2ZU0Mb4dW1d7ZoZjNgssiS https://twitter.com/stephaniehertn

Artist: Ghost u like it i love it

New Release: Belly Belly Ft Duceplaya & D The Lyricist

Genre: Hip Hop , Reggae , Club Pop

Located in: : Misawa Japan

This song is a fun, upbeat, club, and dance creation with a beautiful mix of instruments and sound. This song represents my Ghost u like it i love it brand. Showing the world the many styles of me. With this 9th album he’s working, the artists says “ it’s a great opener to invite everyone to come and enjoy my creative mind. So be ready to take a journey with me through your mind and be captivated with the visuals I can paint just through the music.”

LINKS:  https://www.reverbnation.com/ghostulikeitiloveit https://twitter.com/GhostULIILI https://www.facebook.com/Ghostuliili https://www.instagram.com/ghostulikeitiloveit

Artist: Street Pound Productions

New Release: So Xclusive

Genre: Hip Hop

Located in: : Nashville TN USA

 Still receiving mass feedback and support for their previous releases, STREET POUND PRODUCTIONS is keeping the motion of success and grind going. First hitting the scene with the single "Tip'N 2 Slow" ft. Diamond of Crime Mob; then "Go Live"...they immediately topped charts with the energy presented and original feel to their vibe. These two singles caught fire and led to millions of combined streams, plays, views, fans and followers. Now returning with another slammin' single, "So Xclusive," STREET POUND PRODUCTIONS continues to rise in the streets and on the charts.

And this one come with an amazingly animated lyric video that is capturing the listeners attention quickly. Produced by the newest member on the SPP roster, K-SLICC THA GREAT, who also features on the single along side LO$TA and BADazz LUCK, is showing how independent hustling is done. All in house. And with "So Xclusive" immediately hitting Spotify and Digital Radio, it is quickly gaining massive numbers and rising on the DRT Global Charts. Check it out today and get to know STREET POUND PRODUCTIONS, because they are on their way to an everlasting presence at the top.

The music we are creating is... This single introduces Street Pound's future superstar K-Slicc tha Gr8!!

The release of the SO XCLUSIVE video is coming up.

LINKS: SO XCLUSIVE SPOTIFY link:  Dirty:  https://open.spotify.com/album/3uhCSG4bqZPJp4MFK6T6P6?si=wmK7oxozRiCTljAFqBEtdg  Clean:  https://open.spotify.com/album/2ec0sKVspIdY8KDqgntBYw?si=Np_50vtfT4u70KfW8AB2Fg  Twitter:  https://twitter.com/streetpound  Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/streetpoundproductions Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/streetpoundproductions

ARTIST: POPICHIL`O

NEW RELEASE: "REASON"

Genre: HipHop

This song is... about believing in yourself and knowing that you have purpose. I’m an advocate of following your passion and living out your dreams. "It is what it seems" Once you know your worth, know one can make you feel worthless. When you listen to this song you will have a better understanding of why I make music and what inspires me. Take a journey with me into my life whether its wrong or right we only get one life. Live yours to the fullest because no one is promised another day or night

He just finished his first EP titled "Don't Stop Me now" which dropping Dec 26th on his Birthday with 12 brand new songs. His Behind The Music episode is coming up February 6 Wednesday at 2 pm et.

LINKS:  https://twitter.com/popichi https://www.instagram.com/popichilo https://www.facebook.com/popichilo https://soundcloud.com/reallyfe-muzic

Artist: Pierce Tunes

New Release: Spouky

Genre: Hip-Hop/Rap

Located in: Athen, Ohio

This song was... inspired by the Halloween block party at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. Hence the 'OU' in the song title. The song switches from a catchy chorus, to some creepy verses. It's the perfect party banger for anyone trying to get a little "Spooky".The entire song was produced and mixed completely by Pierce Tunes, who self taught himself how to do so.

Right now we are... Right now I am working a few very inspiring songs. I would say these are even better than Spouky, so I am very excited to get these out there. They will be released soon.

LINKS:  Twitter: @PierceTunes Instagram: mikeypierce_ youtube: youtube.com/PierceTunes SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/pierce-tunes/spouky Apple Music: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/spouky-feat-austin-ostrum/1440309240?i=1440309245

[soihere]

Angin Kencang

Noh Salleh

Publishing Date: 1/1/18

“The nostalgic soundtrack to a life today in black and white.”

Blooming from the underground stardom of the growing indie scene in the mid to late 2000’s, today he is amongst the very few artist who has proven their reputation and artistry in the industry through not only the longevity in his music, but more importantly the growth. Amidst the constant flooding and crashing streams of rock and ballad, Noh stands out to carve a much needed space into the Malaysian music industry, and more imporantly the ears of the masses, to create a space for change, uncertainty, and growth many deferently cower away from. Whilst others dip in and out into elements of a forgottenly rich genre, Noh takes us all the away in one of the most (if not the) artistically eloquent and defined album of this generation.  Like a vintage film glazed in the orange sunset of the 50’s and 60’s, the album whole-heartedly croons out the perfect soundtrack for an evening day-dream. As each track floats and twirls up into cumulus clouds - by no mistake given the album cover’s subtle hint, - 40 minutes past by in a breeze, taking you along with sky-gazing eyes. Moreover, it’s a moment of careless bliss being captured and cherished. And in that careless gaze are gentle and melancholic melodies, which coupled with the lush and grandiose instrumentation, tells stories or “acts” of it’s own in this dramatic saga.  In tandem with the falsetto melodies gliding through higher scales, the accentuating instrumentation of each track elevates the progression of each song to be more than a plot, bringing stories to life. In Mr Polia, the song plays as a gut-wrenching and explosive soundtrack to it’s very own brown, mustached saviour of the town, James Bond. Alongside the gallant trumpets and bustling beat, our character hurries through blazing streets of Malayan towns. Yet also to the wailing strings, he desperately searches for love within abandoned villas engulfed in the hands of nature. Alas, in our very own vintage mafia film, even our bold hero falls into the arms of romantic tragedies, elegantly articulated in this album through theathrical ballads of it’s own.  But between the unwithering and passionate lover and his pursuit of love, lies an unbridled and fearless romanticism that’s unforgiving in it’s own skin. A romance that, as this album shows, is nothing short of sweet and pure affection - love, as it is. Blending together elements of retro pop, jazz, folk, classical, and even traditional ‘keroncong’, into a revived recreation of itself, in this updated yet nostalgic interpretation of the ‘vintage’ sound, everything simply belongs. From the exuberantly bold and jazzy drumming, to the meticulously poetic lyricism, there’s a mutual understanding in the dynamics between the sounds from each genre, of its connection with its roots but also of where it seeks to be on it’s own. A relationship that’s rarely understood by previous attempts to gauge with music from the past, but one perfected almost effortlessly in multiple tracks in this album. As evident in the doo-wop guitar and direct storytelling found in ‘Biar Seribu’, the track plays seamlessly in sequence to a P.Ramlee track. At the heart of it, it’s a heartbreaking serenade stringed by romantic melancholy. But better yet, a familiar feeling of loneliness that’s newly fastened by a mature clarity in direction and emotion, sealing every note with a concieted caress of what’s being felt.    Yet, the album’s true strength and charisma comes to life by the dynamic yet spatious songwriting that swifts between heartpounding instrumentation and poetic melodies, all at once. At the chorus of ‘Bunga Di Telinga’, with an ensemble of glittering xylophones, guitar, piano, and swayful strings, each line glows under a tinted hue of it’s own. As the enamouringly soft vocals dips and swings from one note to the next, time only seems to pass with each flutter of the heart. At the end of each line, as the music twirls in knots, we’re reminded by the innocently soft, sweet and pure whispers that within each falter in life, lies a lavish romanticism we never knew we longed for.  In fragile falsettos that balance and bring to life the heartfelt poetic lyricism blessed onto each track (much credit due to his Indonesian partners in crime), it leaves, somewhere inbetween dismay and solemn reflection, a bittersweet and wholesome acceptance. A desire to let go. The tracks beg no thought or effort to compel you to feel. They are stories beautiful in their own simplicity, and drunk on their own honesty, “Kamu lebih ayu dengan bunga di telingamu”. In an almost chivlarous fashion, the album gladly trades wallowing confusion for somber confessions of reality, to reveal inside a warmer embrace.   Making his way from the homage of ‘Gelung’ for much of his Japanese inspired aesthethic approach, and en-route from the islands with all the folk, Noh settles by the wind as the ablum fittingly lands home on the track ‘Sarawak’. Unlike the unduly, moody darkness of Renjana - a recycled version of ‘Sang Penikam’ and would’ve best been opted out for ‘Sinar’ with it’s bolder and brighter progressions - the album leaves a final moment of light in its closing track. Set in a 50’s local folk/jazz lounge with lights, people, and tables filled sparingly, it’s the artists’ last track to his set. By virtue, he feels no need or desire to dwell in the spotlight. Tinged in an almost embeded indie sensibility of his, Noh seizes the moment to revel in the reflection of his own journey. Reminiscing an amalgamation of experiences and influences, he leaves a sentiment aptly characterised and evident throughout this much personal album of his. That is, after wanders on journeys of self exploration, perhaps all that we could ever long for was in all that we ever had. And so the perfect place to end might just be right where it all started - wherever home may be.  In a melting pot of cultures and genres, there’s a new precedent to the limits in the exploration and innovation of sound. Rather than forcing them to interact as their own, the album plays on the strength of each genre, delving deep into its essence. Diving bravely into the retro/vintage pop genre, the album leaves its mark by transcending imitation, and seizing ownership. A threshold in Malaysian/Indonesian music culture, this album shows that with big risks comes even bigger rewards. As of, Noh’s duly rewarded album breathes the courage in artistry that not only celebrates, but also redefines. 

8.5/10

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

11 Incredible Stephen Hawking Quotes

Visit Now - https://zeroviral.com/11-incredible-stephen-hawking-quotes/

11 Incredible Stephen Hawking Quotes

The great filmmaker Albert Maysles once explained the power of nonfiction moviemaking by saying, “When you see somebody on the screen in a documentary, you’re really engaged with a person going through real life experiences, so for that period of time, as you watch the film, you are, in effect, in the shoes of another individual. What a privilege to have that experience.”

A privilege, yes, and a privilege that’s outsized for us today. We now have access to thousands of documentaries online, allowing us all kinds of shapes and sizes of shoes to step into. To extend our personal knowledge of human experience. Thousands of little empathy machines. Small windows into lives that aren’t our own.

Here are 25 of the best documentaries that you can stream right now.

1. 13TH (2016)

Following the breakout prestige of Selma, Ava DuVernay constructed an exploration of the criminalization of black individuals in the United States, crafting a throughline from slavery to the modern private prison boom. Eschewing an overdramatized style, DuVernay calmly, patiently lays out facts and figures that will drop your jaw only until you start clenching it.

Where to watch it: Netflix

2. AILEEN: LIFE AND DEATH OF A SERIAL KILLER (2003)

For those only familiar with Aileen Wuornos through Charlize Theron’s portrayal in Monster, Nick Broomfield’s documentary offers a considered portrait of the human being behind the murderer. In his first film about Wuornos, The Selling of a Serial Killer, Broomfield considered her as a victim of abuse and betrayal, with her image commodified. In this follow-up, he takes us all the way to the day of her execution, wondering how anyone would think she was of sound mind.

Where to watch it: Netflix and Amazon Prime

3. ABACUS: SMALL ENOUGH TO JAIL (2017)

“Too big to fail” entered the lexicon following 2008’s bursting housing bubble, but while the world’s largest banks skated through, Abacus Federal Savings Bank was deemed small enough to prosecute. Steve James (of Hoop Dreams fame) has crafted an intimate, Oscar-nominated look at the Chinatown bank that became the only financial institution to face criminal charges in the wake of the subprime mortgage crisis, starting at the family level before zooming out to the community and country.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

4. BEING ELMO (2011)

Narrated by Whoopi Goldberg, puppeteer Kevin Clash shares his childhood growing up in Baltimore and the road to a career as a furry red monster on Sesame Street. It’s a delightful peek behind the curtain to see how magic is made, featuring interviews with legends like Frank Oz and Kermit Love. Pairs well with I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story (which is available to rent on Amazon).

Where to watch it: Netflix

5. BEST OF ENEMIES (2015)

Both quaint and prescient, the televised debates between William F. Buckley Jr. and Gore Vidal during the 1968 Republican National Convention show us a midpoint between idealized civic discussion and the worst instincts of modern punditry. This sly documentary explains the force of this rivalry, its ironic popularity as televised circus, and the aftermath of all the clever insults.

Where to watch it: Netflix

6. CALIFORNIA TYPEWRITER (2017)

A bright palate cleanser that shouldn’t be overlooked just because it isn’t emotionally devastating. The success of this film is its ability to transfer other people’s obsessions to the viewer. Tom Hanks, John Mayer, historians, collectors, and repairmen all share their abiding love for the click-clack of a device that defies obsolescence. You may crave a Smith Corona when it’s all over.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

7. CAMERAPERSON (2016)

Patience is rewarded in this thoughtful, dazzling cinematic quilt of footage collected from 25 years of Kirsten Johnson’s career as a cinematographer. Her lens takes us to Brooklyn for boxing, Bosnia for post-war life, Nigeria for midwifery, and more.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

8. CARTEL LAND (2015)

Raw and fearsome, Matthew Heineman’s documentary puts you in the boots on the ground of the Mexican Drug War. This gripping look at Arizona Border Recon and the Autodefensas of Michoacán shows what happens when governments fail citizens who are in the line of fire.

Where to watch it: Netflix and Amazon Prime

9. CASTING JONBENET (2017)

This isn’t the documentary you’d expect it to be. Kitty Green took an experimental approach that’s less about rehashing the true crime sensationalism of the headline-owning murder of a child beauty queen and more about how many stories can be contained in a single story. Green auditioned actors from JonBenét Ramsey’s hometown and, in the process of making several dramatizations, interviewed them about what it was like living in the area during the 1996 investigations (and what they think really happened).

Where to watch it: Netflix

10. CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS (2011)

There’s nothing like hanging out with Werner Herzog in an ancient cave. Herzog filmed in the Chauvet Cave in southern France to document the oldest known human-painted images, which is fortunate for us because the cave isn’t open to the public. It’s a wondrous nature documentary about us.

Where to watch it: Netflix

11. CITY OF GHOSTS (2017)

Another brutal hit from Matthew Heineman, this documentary carries the audience into the Syrian conflict through the eyes of citizen journalist collective Raqqa Is Being Slaughtered Silently, which both reports on war news and acts as a counter to propaganda efforts from Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL). Some documentaries are interesting, but this one is also necessary. 

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

12. DARK DAYS (2000)

Before Humans of New York there was Dark Days. This delicate, funny, mournful project is a true blend of reality and art. Marc Singer made it after befriending and living among the squatter community living in the Freedom Tunnel section of the New York City subway. Despite never making a movie before, he decided that shining a light on these homeless neighbors would be the best way to help them.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

13. EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP (2010)

Covered in spray paint and questionable facial hair decisions, this documentary displays the transformation of Thierry Guetta from clothing shop owner to celebrated street artist, but since Banksy directed it, it’ll never shake the question of its authenticity. Real doc? Elaborate prank? Entertaining either way.

Where to watch it: Netflix

14. GAGA: FIVE FOOT TWO (2017)

It’s incredibly honest. As much as an inside look into the life of a global pop superstar can be. Lady Gaga (real name Stefani Germanotta) spends a healthy amount of the movie standing around without makeup, waxing wise and humorously before jumping face-first into her work and fanbase. The film focuses on her time crafting her Joanne album and her Super Bowl halftime show, but they could make one of these every few years without it getting stale because Gaga is a tower of magnetism.

Where to watch it: Netflix

15. THE INTERRUPTERS (2012)

In the middle of gang violence in Chicago, CeaseFire attempts to use members’ direct experiences to ward off new brutalities. Dubbed “violence interrupters,” Ameena Matthews, Cobe Williams, and Eddie Bocanegra are at the heart of this vital film about ending community violence by employing disease-control strategies, and the Herculean task of reversing systemic criminal activity without losing sight of the humanity of the people affected.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

16. JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI (2012)

Let’s hope that this meditative, sumptuous documentary never leaves Netflix’s shores. The portrait of then-85-year-old Sukiyabashi Jiro’s quest for unattainable perfection is both food porn and a somber-sweet consideration of the satisfaction and disquiet of becoming the best in the world at something and, somehow, striving for better.

Where to watch it: Netflix

17. JOSHUA: TEENAGER VS SUPERPOWER (2017)

When someone tells you it can’t be done, show them this. The simple title both celebrates and belies the smallness of one person fighting a system. Joe Piscatella’s doc follows the explosive growth of the Hong Kong protest movement engaged by teen activist Joshua Wong when the Chinese government refused to act on its promise of granting autonomy to the region, and it is a dose of pure inspiration.

Where to watch it: Netflix

18. THE LOOK OF SILENCE (2014)

Joshua Oppenheimer and Anonymous’s sequel to the Oscar-nominated The Act of Killing features an Indonesian man whose brother was murdered during the 1965 purge of Communists talking to his brother’s killers while literally checking their vision. His bravery and composure are astonishing, as is the insight into the many rationalities unrepentant men use to shield their psyches from their own heinous acts. A peerless piece of investigative art.

Where to watch it: Netflix

19. MY SCIENTOLOGY MOVIE (2017)

An absurdist rabbit chase and a deliberate provocation, writer/star Louis Theroux’s punk documentary poked the bear of the infamous religion in order to get access to it. They auditioned young actors to recreate real-life events described by ex-members, got denounced by the church, and even got into a “Who’s On First”-style argument with a member (“You tell him to turn the camera off then I’ll tell him to turn the camera off!”). Serious subject matter by way of Borat.

Where to watch it: Netflix

20. THE NIGHTMARE (2015)

This documentary by Rodney Ascher should be seen by everyone and somehow be banned from being seen. Not content to profile people suffering from sleep paralysis—the condition where you can’t move or speak while falling asleep or awakening, yeah—Ascher riffs on the hallucinations that sometimes accompany the ailment. As if being frozen weren’t enough. The result is a true story that’s just as effective as a horror film.

Where to watch it: Netflix

21. PUMPING IRON (1977)

A landmark docudrama about the Mr. Olympia competition, this is the film that launched a wannabe actor from Austria into the public conscious. Arnold Schwarzenegger is brash and beautiful in this celebration of body perfection which finds a balance between joy and the teeth-gritting agony of endurance. Great back then, it’s now a fascinating artifact of the soon-to-be action star/politician.

Where to watch it: Netflix

22. STOLEN SEAS (2013)

Constructed using real audio and found footage of the 2008 hostage negotiation aboard a Danish shipping vessel, filmmaker Thymaya Payne’s film isn’t content to simply shine a light on the horrific reality of a Somali pirate attack; it strikes to build a contextual understanding of what these attacks mean for the rest of the world. For all of us.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

23. STORIES WE TELL (2013)

An absolute personal stunner, actress Sarah Polley directed this docudrama about the scariest thing you can reveal to the world: your family. It’s an emotional, gamut-spanning search for identity that requires reconciling conflicting views about your parents and digging through buried secrets. Polley bringing them into full view, for all of us to see, is a selfless act that resulted in an outstanding piece of art.

Where to watch it: Amazon Prime

24. THE THIN BLUE LINE (1988)

A modern classic of nonfiction storytelling. Through archival footage, interviews, and reenactments, documentary royalty Errol Morris used this film to argue the innocence of a man destined for lethal injection. It tells the story of Randall Dale Adams, who was sentenced to death for killing a police officer in 1976, despite evidence that the real killer—a minor at the time—had committed the crime. A must-see for fans of Making a Murderer.

Where to watch it: Netflix

25. TIG (2015)

When you get diagnosed with cancer, the natural thing is to perform a stand-up act about it the same day, right? Comedian Tig Notaro became famous overnight when her set confronting her same-day diagnosis went viral, and this documentary from Kristina Goolsby and Ashley York focuses on the year that followed. A rocky year that deals with death, a new career chapter, a new relationship, and possibly a new child. It’s okay to laugh through the tears.

Where to watch it: Netflix