#to classical orchestras to that guy on the corner with his guitar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sabadorks · 3 years ago

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I read about someone that decided to listen to all the albums on the "1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die" list during lockdown and I decided to have a go.

It might be a fun way to discover new music and to see how pop music evolved since the '50s.

Not sure how far I'm going to go before I loose interest but we'll see.

Gonna put my first impressions under read more so that I can remember which album/artists I liked.

1955:

Frank Sinatra- In the Wee Small Hours: really nice and chill. Will definitely listen to it again.

1956:

Duke Ellington - At Newport: really fun to jam along, although sometimes the sax (at least i think it’s a sax?) gets a bit too shrill for me

Fats Domino- This is Fats Domino: a really, really fun rock’n’roll album

The Louvain Brothers - Tragic Songs of Life: I’ve heard of them before because I did watch the whole “Country Music with Ken Burns” for no reason since I don’t really care for country music but holy shit I’m definetly going to check out their other releases because the armonies are great!

Elvis Presley - Elvis Presley: another fun rock’n’roll album also Elvis’ voice always makes me swoon on slow songs.

Louis Prima featuring Keely Smith - The Wildest: idk, it’s fine I guess but I don’t really see what’s so special about this album that made it make the cut, I probably won’t listen to this again. I can definitely see why a live performance of this in ‘56 would have been a riot.

Frank Sinatra- Song For Swingin’ Lovers : It’s nice, Frank Sinatra’s music is pretty easy listening and difficult to dislike. I think I enjoyed In The Wee Small Hours a bit more but maybe I was just in a more suitable mood that day.

1957:

The Crikets - The “Chirping” Crikets: it was alright?

Miles Davis - Birth of the Cool: back at this list after a couple of months of not being in the mood. Very nice, very easy listening jazz album. Moon Dreams is such a beautiful, sweet track.

Machito and his Orchestra - Kenya: really really nice Afro-Cuban jazz record. Would recommend.

Little Richard - Here's Little Richard: super short and super fun. The album opens with Tutti Frutti and this is enough to get you in a good mood.

Sabu - Palo Congo: I do like the more melodic songs but the other ones aren’t really my thing. If you’re into percussions (especially hand drums) and people occasionally sing-screaming something then definetly check it out.

Thelonious Monk - Brilliant Corners: it’s alright but I’m really fucking tired of jazz music.

Sarah Vaughan - At Mister Kelly’s: turns out that I tend to enjoy Jazz when it’s chill and vocal driven.

Ravi Shankar - The Sounds of India: really nice and educational. Before each piece Ravi Shankar explains some of the basics of hindustan classical music.

1958:

Count Basie and his Orchestra - Baise: man this is a lot of fun. We should totally bring back big band as a popular music genre

Ramblin' Jack Elliot - Jack Takes the Floor: this is a simple, solid folk album, just this guy and his guitar telling stories.

Billie Holiday- Lady in Satin: this is such a touching album. Might be that I feel particularly sensitive today but I was about to cry by the end of it.

Tito Puente - Dance mania: very fun Latin jazz album. Truly makes you want to dance.

1959:

Ella Fitzgerald - Ella Fitzgerald Singa The George and Ira Gershwin Songbook: this thing is over 3 hours long. If you're a fan of vocal jazz it's probably the greatest thing ever but I'm not so I really just want it to be over. The songs are nice but 3 hours of this is too much for me.

The Dave Brueback Quartet - Time Out: really nice and pleasant. Also I'm really, really getting tired of all of this jazz.

Ray Charles - The Genius of Ray Charles: again perfectly nice and pleasant.

Miles Davis- Kind of Blue: really, really beautiful album. Really chill and soothing.

Marty Robbins - Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs: it didn't save my first impression and my memory is bad but I remember I had a lot of fun listening to this album.

1960

Joan Baez - Joan Baez: she sounds so good, her voice and her interpretation gives me goosebumps.

Elvis Presley - Elvis is back!: this is so much fun. Idk if it's because I'm aware of how big Elvis was but it feels like a grand comeback. And he sounds good.

Miriam Makeba - Miriam Makeba: really great, i like the songs in Xhosa way better than the ones in English but she sounds great throughout the album.

The Everly Brothers - A Date with The Everly Brothers: well this was underwhelming and dull.

Muddy Waters - Muddy Waters at Newport 1960: a bit too slow for me but still really nice.

1961

Bill Evans Trio - Sunday at the Village Vanguard: the only album of 1961 in the list is yet another jazz album. For the first time since I started this project I quitted an album halfway through.

1962

Ray Charles - Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music: the arrangements are really nice and Ray Charles' voice is incredible.

Booker T. & The M.G.'s - Green Onions: I KNOW GREEN ONIONS! The rest of the album is pretty great and really catchy.

Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd - Jazz Samba: bossa nova is just a great music genre

1963:

The Beatles - With The Beatles: it's been a long time since I listened to this album. Not my favourite Beatles' record but it's a solid and fun album.

James Brown - Live at the Apollo: this was so nice.

Bob Dylan - The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan: another album i haven't listened to in a while. My god it's good.

Mingus - The Black Saint and The Sinner Lady: yet another jazz album but a great one.

Ray Price - Night Life: there aren't a whole lot of country album on this list but the ones that are on it are good good.

The Incredible Jimmy Smith - Back At The Chicken Shack: okay what's with 1963 and great jazz albums?

Various Artists - A Christmas Gift For You: shame that Phil Spector was a piece of shit because he knew what he was doing, everything sounds incredible.

1964:

The Beatles - A Hard Day's Night: another album i haven't heard in a while. Fun fun fun stuff.

Jacques Brel - Olympia 64: i like the intensity he puts in his singing.

Solomon Burke - Rock 'N Soul: holy shit this is good. Every track is incredible and he sounds so good and soulful. I'm going to recommend it to everyone I know...

Stan Getz and João Gilberto - Getz/Gilberto: my god i love bossa nova. And Girl From Ipanema is on this album.

Jerry Lee Lewis - Live at the Star Club, Hamburg: I'm not really feeling this live album, i don't like how JLL sounds. Also i accidentally found out that he married his 13 y/o cousin when he was in his 20s which is disgusting.

The Rolling Stones - The Rolling Stones: the album is really nice but sometimes Mick Jagger sounds like an absolute dickhead.

Dusty Springfield - A Girl Called Dusty: really nice and soulful pop.

1965:

The Beach Boys - The Beach Boys Today!: really nice and pleasant album.

The Beatles - Rubber Soul: i didn't recall the last song being so icky but the rest is just solid stuff.

The Byrd - Mr. Tambourine Man: oh fuck this is good, I really like the sound.

John Coltrane - A Love Supreme: really nice, smooth jazz

Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home: I really, really love this album.

Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited: idk if it's because I listened to it right after Bringing it All Back Home and I was having a bit of a Dylan overdose but it sort of drags a lot by the end. It contains some absolute bangers tho.

Bert Jansch - Bert Jansch: nice folk album also you know what? For having been recorded on semi-professional equipment in somebody's broom closet this thing sounds incredible.

B.B. King - Live At The Regal: I ruined my experience by accidentally listening to the album on shuffle but it was still great. B.B King has such a beautiful voice.

Buck Owens and his Buckaroos - I've Got A Tiger By The Tail: really fun country album

Otis Redding - Otis Blue/Otis Redding Sings Soul: oh fuck this is so so good

The Sonics - Here Are The Sonics!!!: it's a fun album but it's hard to fully appreciate just how new and hard this sound was.

The Who - My Generation: what a way to start a career. This is an absolutely iconic album.

1966

The 13th Floor Elevators - They Psychedelic Sounds Of The 13th Floor Elevators: the big hit out of this album was nice and the electric jug sounds incredible but jesus christ this album is boring.

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds: this is so nice.

The Byrds - Fifth Dimension: it's fine but their previous entry on this list was miles better. Their mix of folk rock and psychedelic rock is a bit dull.

Donovan - Sunshine Superman: the first couple of songs are a bit too subdued for me but then the album really picks up. The songwriting is great and the arrangements are incredible. Also great mixing.

Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde: gonna be honest I didn't remember this album being that good.

The Kinks - Face to Face: the album is great, the fact that the band's previous record weren't on the list not so much.

Love - Da Capo: no idea who these people are but the album is really pleasant. That 18 minutes closing track is far too long tho.

Uh-oh, it didn't save me the updates on a few album so i will have to go from memory:

The Mamas and The Papas - If You Can Believe Your Eyes And Ears: delightful vocal harmonies, Monday Monday and California Dreaming are the two strongest songs on here.

John Mayall with Eric Clapton - Blues Breakers: some very good blues tbh

Monks - Black Monk Time: delightfully deranged

Fred Neil - Fred Neil: no memory of this, I do remember that I heard one of the songs in some movie

Paul Revere and The Riders - Midnight Ride: it was fine?

The Rolling Stones - Aftermath: back at this after weeks and weeks and I'm not gonna lie it was mostly because i did not want to listen to this. I don't like this album, i don't like the Stones (bar a couple of songs) and Mick Jagger sounds like a cunt.

Simon & Garfunkel - Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme: it's a great album. It's so warm and beautiful.

Nina Simone -Wild is the Wind: this album is insanely beautiful.

The Yardbirds - The Yardbirds: this shit is great also The Pussycat Dolls sampled The Yardbirds?

The Mothers of Invention - Freak Out!: this makes for an interesting listening experience, I'm not sure i like everything on it but it is a pretty fun album.

1967:

The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band: it's honestly just delightful.

The Beau Brummels - Triangle: it's alright, some tracks are almost magical but not quite.

Tim Buckley - Hello and Goodbye: it's fine, I really love his voice there's something that really grabs your attention.

Buffalo Springfield- Buffalo Springfield Again: it's nice background music but I'm starting to get a bit tired of all of this folk-rock? At least it's a mercifully short album.

The Byrds - Younger Than Yesterday: it's fine but i liked their previous album on the list better.

Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band - Safe as Milk: Honestly? who the fuck cares about this?

Leonard Cohen - Songs of Leonard Cohen: sounds quite magical but i feel far too restless for this at the moment.

Country Joe and The Fish - Electric Music For The Mind And Body: tumblr didn't save my review of this and i have absolutely no recollection of this album. Had go double check to make sure I didn't accidentally skip it but apparently I listened to it a few days ago.

Cream - Disraeli Gears: it's good but I'm in the mood for something more exciting.

The Doors - The Doors: it's fine, contains a few absolute classics but I've never been a massive Doors fan.

The Electric Prunes - Electric Prunes: great stuff, and absolute joy to listen to.

Aretha Franklin - I Never Loved Another Man The Way I Love You: this album is absolutely delightful.

Astrud Gilberto - Beach Samba: it's whatever honestly

Merle Haggard and The Strangers - I'm a Lonesome Fugitive: as most great country albums it's 3 chords and the truth. The tunes are simple but nice and the lyrics are telling interesting stories.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Are You Experienced?: it's good, it's rock music taking a heavier, darker turn.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Axis: Bold As Love: even better than the other Hendrix' album.

The Kinks - Something Else By The Kinks: man I love this band so much.

Love - Forever Changes: really solid and nice album

Loretta Lynn - Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' (With Loving On Your Mind): really great stuff here.

Moby Grape - Moby Grape: it's nice

The Monkees - Headquarters: it's a really nice album, No Time really packs a punch.

Nico - Chelsea Girl: I like the arrangements but I find Nico's singing to be unbearable.

Pink Floyd - The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn: such a fun album

The Young Rascals - Groovin: this was so good and so fun.

Frank Sinatra with Antonio Carlos Jobim - Francis Albert Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim: it's a Frank Sinatra album not much to say.

The Velvet Underground and Nico - The Velvet Underground and Nico: starts pretty great then it just drags on and on. Sometimes on here Nico doesn't sound as bad.

The Who - The Who Sell Out: the concept helps out a lot, there are some absolute bangers and a bunch of fine songs.

1968:

The Band - The Band: what is even the point of this album.

The Beatles - The Beatles: didn't need to be a double album, half of the songs on here are just fillers. The bangers are very much present tho.

Jeff Beck - Truth: nice and heavy, a tiny bit too slow tho.

Big Brother and The Holding Company - Cheap Thrills: there's a reason why most people only remember 2 songs on this album...

Blood, Sweat & Tears - Blood, Sweat & Tears: yeah no.

Blue Cheer - Vincebus Eruptum: okay this is great, why is only half of the album on spotify?

The Byrds - The Notorious Byrd Brothers: it's nice and under 30 minutes.

The Byrds - Sweetheart Of The Rodeo: the start of country rock is very nice.

Caetano Veloso - Caetano Veloso: I know that the guy didn't like his first solo album but it sounds pretty neat to me...

Johnny Cash - At Folsom Prison: it's a great album.

Dr. John, The Night Tripper - Gris-Gris: not sure what's going on but it's pretty neat.

Aretha Franklin - Lady Soul: Miss Aretha could sing and had excellent taste regarding what she sang.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Electric Ladyland: finally something nice and heavy

The Incredible String Band - The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter: you really don't have to hear this.

Iron Butterfly - In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida: this fucks extremely hard.

The Kinks - The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society: yeah I just really like The Kinks and this album is great.

Van Morrison - Astral Weeks: this shit is far too rambly for me.

Os Mutantes - Os Mutantes: not sure I like everything on this album but at least it's interesting. And mostly catchy.

Laura Nyro - Eli And The Thirteen Confessions: this stuff is god tier and you know it from the first note. You can also hear just how much influence it had on so many artists.

The Pretty Things - S.F. Sorrow: it makes a really pleasant listen. I know that it's a concept album about one guy but I paid 0 attention to the plot.

The Rolling Stones ‐ Beggars Banquet: idk man, it's nice but I do find the Rolling Stones a pretty underwhelming band.

Sharma, Chaurasia and Kabra - Call of the Valley: took me a while to track this one online, if the one on youtube I managed to find is the reall Album then it's pretty good.

Small Faces: Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake: it's not bad but I don't particularly care for this.

Traffic -Traffic: it seems good but I'm not vibing with this today.

The United States of America - The United States of America: sort of can't wait for the psychedelic era to be over. There was some interesting stuff here but i didn’t find this an enjoyable listening experience.

The Velvet Underground- White Light / White Heat: i cannot stress just how much I don't care about this band and most of their output.

Scott Walker - Scott 2: now THIS is fun. Baroque Pop is often forgotte but jesus if it's fun. It's big and pompous and majestic and so meaty. it feels like you can sink your teeth into the instrumental.

The Mothers Of Invention - We're Only In It For The Money: this was so much fun both lyrically and musically.

The Zombies - Odessy And Oracle: I am in love with this album.

1969

The Band - The Band: this was nice and i really enjoyed the album.

The Beatles - Abbey Road: not my favourite Beatles' album but it does have two of the best songs George Harrison ever wrote so...

Bee Gees - Odessa: I have no memory of this album

Tim Buckley - Happy Sad: a bit too unexciting for me.

Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band - Trout Mask Replica: I'm not sure of what the hell is going on here. I'm sure they had fun recording it?

Johnny Cash - At San Quentin: man that guy really knew how to entertain a crowd.

Chicago - Chicago Transit Authority: it's fine but I could have died wothout listening to it and I wouldn't have missed much.

Leonard Cohen - Songs From A Room: the man was more of a poet than musician most of the time so yeah excellent lyricism but not much going on musically

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bayou Country & Green River: both excellent albums with an abundance of fun and catchy songs. CCR wasn't active long but they gave us so much.

Crosby, Stills and Nash - Crosby, Stills and Nash: this felt like a very flimsy record. The armonies were nice, the rest of it not so much

Miles Davis - In A Silent Way: i really like this, it has a really great atmosphere.

Nick Drake - Five Leaves Left: it was fine

Fairport Convention - Liege And Lief & Unhalfbricking: They aren't my cup of tea and I just don't care about their music. I tried so hard to make it past the first 3 songs in both album but I just couldn't.

The Flying Burrito Brothers - The Gilded Palace of Sin: this is not the type of music you expect from a band with this name but it's pretty nice country rock.

Grateful Dead - Live/Dead: it's nice, a tad bit too long for people who arent really into the band.

Isaac Hayes - Hot Buttered Soul: this is revolutionary

King Crimson- In The Court Of The Crimson King: I love this album so much.

The Kinks - Arthur (Or The Decline And Fall Of The British Empire): The Kinks are usually a good band and this is one of their finest albums (not my favourite tho)

Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin I & II: I genuinely love these album so much. And in hindsight you can hear that the gears were really starting to turn for hard rock and heavy metal.

MC5 - Kick Out The Jam: not really to my taste but its pretty good.

The Pentangle - Bakset of Light: This is nice nice.

Elvis Presley - From Elvis In Memphis: it's nice, but I'm not sure it belongs on this list?

Quicksilver Messenger Service - Happy Trail: 1) this is a great name for a band and 2) the goddamn 25 minute suite that's a cover of a 2 minute song is gold.

The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed: imho one of the best albums by the stones but also it sounds like any other album by the stones and boy was i glad when it was over.

Sly & The Family Stone - Stand: very funky album. ngl the 5 minuts of the n-word with the hard r were mildly uncomfortable but aside from that it's very enjoyable.

Alexander Spence - Oar: it's mice but it does sound like an album by someone who did a lot of acid and spent 6 month in a mental health facility.

Dusty Springfield - Dusty in Memphis: it's a shortish album, but it's so good that it makes time fly and it leaves you wanting more.

The Stooges - The Stooges: side A was great, side B was alright.

The Temptations - Cloud Nine: this is so so good.

The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground: yeah no, i still dislike most of the output from this group.

Scott Walker - Scott 4: every other album by this guy is on this list and deservedly so.

The Who - Tommy: I love this album. The music is great and the plot is fucking insane.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse - Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere: some incredible guitarwork on this.

The Youngbloods - Elephant Mountain: forgot to write my thoughts right after. I don't remember anything about this album but I remember linking it.

Frank Zappa - Hot Rats: really neat album. I'm especially fond of the bits that sound like a more elevated version of the local carnival band music.

1970:

Syd Barrett - The Madcap Laughs: there's a couple of high points but overall it was just fine.

Black Sabbath - Black Sabbath: the beginning of heavy metal still sounds incredible and like such a departure from the psychedelic stuff.

Black Sabbath - Paranoid: such a great album.

The Carpenters - Close To You: it's a great album but going from paranoid to this is a bit of a weird experience.

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Cosmo's Factory: CCR are just great.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - Déjà Vu: much much more solid than the CS&N album on the list.

Miles Davis - Bitches Brew: banging title but I preferred his previois entries on the list.

Deep Purple - In Rock: this is just an overall excellent album.

Derek and The Dominos - Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs: a very solid album.

The Doors - Morrison Hotel: when these guys decided to go hard they went hard. The guy they brought in to pla bass for like two tracks is so fucking good.

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter: no fucking clue what the title is supposed to me but jesus this is a great folk album

George Harrison - All Things Must Pass: triple albums should be illegal. Nobody has enough quality material to make a triple album actually bearable. And I hate the production so much.

#working through the 1001 albums list

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sleep-i-ness · 4 years ago

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Love At First Coffee (Vanya Hargreeves x reader)

Summary: Y/N is a struggling flautist, trying to make ends meet, but when a violinist catches her eyes, life doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

Request: No

TUA Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7

Beep beep beep. Y/N groaned, stretching out languidly as she patted her bedside table. Her fingers found nothing but the worn wooden surface. Blearily rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up onto one elbow. The alarm was incessant. Where on earth was that phone?

The bitter smell of coffee filled the kitchen as she poured the boiling water into her chipped mug. A lethargic ache had settled into her bones; the haphazard pile of unopened letters mounting her dread the more she looked at the mess. A quick glance at the plastic clock ticking merrily away warned her she was on the verge of being late if she did not leave now.

Y/N slung the straps of her flute case and tattered leather satchel over her shoulder, her crumpled sheet music clutched in one hand. The lock of her apartment was always such a fiddle and she stuffed the sheet music in her satchel, wincing as it creased even further. She yanked the door shut, leaning backwards to align the lock as she twisted the key.

With a huff, she blew the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes during her tussle with the door. Her path was a familiar one; down the hallway over the scuffed tiles, where she’d have to wait for the creaky elevator to haul itself up to her, and then out onto the street. Past the rowdy bar that never seemed to shut and the hot dog street vendor to the bus stop, littered with chewing gum and graffiti. Then, depending on whether she had the time to waste on the agonizingly slow journey, it was either onto the grimy bus, nodding to the leering driver, or straight past, a brisk walk of about 20 minutes to the concert hall.

Today was not going in her favor. Y/N sighed as it pulled away from the stop. No need to make a choice now. The walk into the more central and less dodgy area of town was usually quite unpleasant; the streets were still reeling from the nighttime activities. She wrinkled her nose as the putrid scent of rotting garbage filled the air, a dumpster nearby overflowing with ripped trash bags.

Keeping her head down, she hurried through the streets, neatly sidestepping the ‘businessmen’ on their flip phones and the gossiping ladies, one hand always clamping their handbags shut. A rush of balmy air burst through the vent as she passed over it, the warm stench of urine and cooking garbage wafting upwards. Left, then a right, then straight on past two crossroads and lines of honking traffic and foul-mouthed drivers, swearing at the day for daring to begin. Wait for the lights to turn red, cross over and continue down the road until you reach the performers door.

The Icarus Theatre. Y/N would have liked to be one of those performers who gushed on about how their performance center was ‘like a second home’, but that was cheesy and frankly unrealistic. Her dreams of being a world-famous flautist had been crushed the moment she’d received her first lot of bills and realized how naïve she truly was. The joy in performing in an orchestra was short-lived as every day felt like a struggle to scrape together enough money to keep herself out of debt and prove her parents wrong. That was enough to dampen anyone’s spirits.

Every hour she didn’t have a rehearsal, she was booked chockful with students of all ages and genders who turned up with a passion for the flute. Or their parents were forcing them to go. Either way she got paid and hoped that maybe she was imbuing someone with a new appreciation for classical music.

“Morning, Will.”

The principal piccoloist was already sat in his seat, absorbed in conversation with Lucy, one of the second violins. He glanced over and raised a slender hand in acknowledgment. Will was always punctual and smartly attired, wearing crisply ironed shirts and smart blazers, free of lint. Y/N was sharply aware of the contrast between them, her shirt creased and half-untucked and her hair escaping from its bun.

She flipped open the latches on her case; there was a trick to it, you needed to open both at once while opening the lid at the same time. Her prize and joy, her baby lay inside. The first time she had ever saved up enough money to buy herself something worthwhile, she had bought a professional flute. Before then, she’d been using her aunt’s old flute from the 60s, a battered old thing that was lucky to even still be able to play.

The murmur died down as Lorin Toscanini, the conductor, stepped onto the raised podium and raised his baton. Y/N slipped into her seat next to Will, who raised an eyebrow at the creased sheets she deposited onto her stand.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today we need to fix the timing on the opening sequence. Remember this is iconic and it needs to be perfect. Second violins, I hope you have improved since yesterday.” The nasally tone of Toscanini grated on Y/N’s nerves, especially so early in the morning when she would much rather be in bed.

Y/N raised her flute to her lower lip, watching the baton as it swayed in time with the music. Down, left, right, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The violins and cellos came in in unison on the downbeat, bows drawing across the string in harmony. The harmonies in perfect time caused shivers to run up and down her spine as the bows swayed mournfully across the vibrating strings in unison.

Okay. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8-

“Stop, stop,” Toscanini cried out, baton smacking against the stand. All instruments were immediately lowered, as a sign of deference. Something about stroking his highly inflated ego. “Someone in the clarinets is playing a B natural instead of a B flat. Now remember, we want to create a sense of tension, so the dynamics start off at piano and then we reach mezzo forte. But this isn’t the most dramatic section; we are building up to that. So, at bar 4 we need an audible diminuendo. Like tiptoeing... From the top!”

There was something so magical about playing in an orchestra when it all slotted into place. You stopped being an individual person and instead became immersed in a group movement of sound and emotion, compelling the listener to be draw in with you. The different melodic lines weave together into one, playing off each other to create a final piece.

It was an almost addictive sensation. The feeling of being swept away and losing sense of oneself in the bigger picture of a whole was something Y/N craved when she wasn’t playing. Music restored a part of herself that she sometimes didn’t realize she was missing. It lifted her away from the mortal world, to a place where the music and the notes were the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s eye fell upon one of the first violins, newly promoted, her brown hair pulled back tightly in a low ponytail. The woman’s brow was furrowed as her fingers danced over the neck of the guitar, swaying gently with the music. Momentarily transfixed, Y/N’s mind turned foggy as she lost count, all thoughts focused on the violinist.

The piece drew to its climax, as if a great beast had climbed to its hind legs and roared. A mounting rush of notes as each musician lost themselves in the crescendo, furiously playing. Cascading melodies toppled over each other, nimble fingers tumbling up scales and bow strokes timed impeccably.

E, G, A!

An audible sigh of satisfaction echoed round the room as the piece ended without any pauses for tinkering; the joy of a composition well played shared throughout all the players.

“Beautiful, just beautiful. I think we’ll call that a day, there. Our next rehearsal is at one on Wednesday, now do not be late.”

Now that the piece had ended, Y/N glanced over to the violinist she had spotted earlier. While Y/N quietly packed her instrument away, the woman prepared to slip out, unnoticed. Should she…?

“Hey,” Y/N flagged down the women, fingertips brushing the cuffs of her dark shirt. “I’m Y/N, I noticed you playing. It was beautiful! You recently got moved up from fourth chair to third, right?”

“Yeah,” the woman seemed flustered by the attention, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “I’m Vanya, it’s nice to meet you.”

Y/N pulled her slipping straps back onto her shoulder as she grinned at Vanya from beneath the curls threatening to fall in her face. “Pretty name. Say, are you busy now? I know an excellent little coffee shop across the road.”

Vanya flushed as she murmured some expression of gratitude. She hesitated, carefully switching her phone on and off again before sliding it back in her pocket when no notifications showed up. “I’m free for a couple of hours. I have to teach lessons from 3 though.”

The coffee shop was quaint and always quiet; since a Starbucks had opened only a few doors down, business had slowly dried up until only a few regulars and those who were opposed to coffee from chain shops came along. Vanya fidgeted with the strap of her violin case, her eyes darting around the shop’s wooden and gold furnishings.

“Hey Marjorie, I’ll have a cappuccino and a chocolate éclair. Vanya, what do you want?”

“Oh, you don’t need to order for me, I can pay for myself.” Vanya’s eyes widened as she protested profusely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning nonchalantly against the bar, “I asked you to come with me for coffee, there’s no way that I am going to be so rude as to make my guest pay for her order. So?”

“I’ll have a mocha, thanks.”

Y/N soon joined Vanya where she was sitting, tucked away in a booth in the corner.

“One mocha, milady.” God, she sounded like one of those ‘nice guys’ in the Instagram DMs.

“Thanks,” Vanya laughed, and Y/N decided she quite liked hearing that sound and that she was definitely going to try and hear it more often. Especially, she wanted to see the way Vanya’s eyes crinkled as she tried to stifle her giggles and how her hand flew up to try and cover her face.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Y/N propped up her head on one hand as she sipped at her cappuccino, blowing softly on the frothy layer.

“Umm, I don’t know what there is to say, I’m a pretty boring person.”

Y/N could not believe that. There was something so hypnotizingly attractive about Vanya; a quiet sort of pretty that crept up on you when you were least expecting it and stole your breath away. Someone like that could never be boring, every inch of her whispered of a tale to be told.

“Have you got any siblings? Pets?”

Vanya’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly before she smoothed her features out, as if to imply Y/N should know something. “Yeah, I have a sister and 3 brothers.”

“Wow, 3 brothers. That must have been a nightmare!”

“Yeah, I was kind of the black sheep of the family. But I haven’t spoken to them in years; we just ended up drifting,” Vanya’s tone appeared nonchalant, but a nervous hand gave her away as she massaged her neck. “It was my fault basically.”

“No that’s ridiculous. The only real excuse for cutting you off is if you killed someone or put someone in danger, and no offence, you don’t seem particularly capable of either of those things,”-Vanya pulled a face-“in a good way!”

“I don’t know, I feel like I deserved it.”

Y/N tore the éclair in half, messily coating her fingers in chocolate as she pressed her fingertips into the half-melted layer on top. “For you. Because fuck shitty families. Who needs them, am I right?”

Vanya giggled and raised her half in response, touching them together to make a toast. “Amen!”

There was a lull in conversation as attention was redirected to eating the intoxicatingly good pastries.

“What about you?” Vanya mumbled; mouth full. There was a tiny dot of cream on the left corner of her mouth and Y/N stared, transfixed as her tongue darted out to dab it away.

“Oh, me. Well, the whole struggling artist career path was not one my parents had hoped I would go down. In comparison to my banker brother, I’m a bit of a disappointment and they make sure to let me know.”

Christmas this year had been a nightmare. It was full of meaningful looks from her parents as her brother prattled on about his new promotion, or the last exotic trip he went on, or the wonderful restaurants near his place of work on Wall Street. She didn’t know what they expected her to do; just suddenly become a high-profile surgeon?

Vanya placed her hand over Y/N’s, looking earnestly into her eyes. “You’re not a disappointment. Fuck what they think.”

Y/N cracked a half-hearted smile at the sentiment of Vanya’s sentence, although there was a certain strangeness to hearing her say ‘fuck’. A hot sensation prickled the back of her neck as Vanya kept her hand where it was, her gaze never wavering as she seemingly searched for something in Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, now we’ve got the family trauma out the way, what do you like to do for fun?” Y/N said, every muscle relaxing as Vanya moved her hand to pick up her mug. She hadn’t realized how tense she was, nervousness laced into every tendon.

“Well, my life seems to be taken up with violin, but I enjoy writing. And I can cook.” Vanya paused to think about what she was saying. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Y/N laughed, trapping her lower lip between her teeth as she awaited Vanya’s response.

“I’m not about to be out here claiming that I’m world-class standard. However, I do make a mean cottage pie which you will have to try someday.”

Someday. That was promising. Y/N smiled sweetly, nodding fervently. “I’d like that very much.”

Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino, recoiling as the tip of her tongue was scalding by the still piping hot coffee. Vanya took one look at her and grinned.

“You’ve got something there,” she said, tapping the tip of her nose.

“Where?” Y/N rubbed her nose.

“No, wait, up a bit- to the right, no, left, umm-”

“Would you mind just getting it for me?” Y/N interrupted her, and Vanya froze.

“Yeah, uh,” she leant across the table, thumb extended as she brushed the callused pad gently across Y/N’s skin. “There. All gone.”

“Thanks.”

They shared a soft smile.

The walk back to Y/N’s apartment was swelteringly sticky, especially in the noon sun. However, today felt different. Buoyed along on a cloud of joy, she practically skipped over the cracks in the sidewalk and past the piled trash bags. Her mind swooped over the fields of possibilities, whirling thoughts on a tangent of their own. The storm in her mind had cleared to allow a small shaft of sunlight through to shine on the choppy waves below, great dark clouds parting with hope.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Hi Y/N, it’s Vanya.

Y/N could barely contain the gleeful grin as she read the message, pressing her phone to her chest.

Hey Vanya, it was really nice to have coffee with you today. We should do something like that again.

Barely a couple minutes had passed when her phone emitted the telltale ding, alerting her to a new incoming message.

Absolutely. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you promised to try my cottage pie.

Y/N tapped out a quick response, finger hovering over the send button as she reread it.

It’s a date.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #vanya hargreeves #vanya #hargreeves #vanya x reader #number 7 #number seven #number 7 x reader #white violin #vanya hargreeves x reader

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songbird-musing · 5 years ago

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Virtuoso: Chapter Three - Verses

Enjolras is Saint-Michel Academy’s brightest young composer. He runs the orchestra, the Musician’s Rights board, chairs the scholarship program, teaches free classical music to children, and is in the middle of his dissertation. He has never been anything less than a prodigy, until his teacher forces him to write a pop song.

Enter the effortlessly cool Grantaire, with his smudged eyeliner and lovely guitar-playing fingers. He really digs Enjolras’ “vibe,” whatever that means.

There's wooing, and revelry, and all sorts of things that don't quite suit Enjolras' sensibilities.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Verses

“So, are you conducting at any upcoming concerts?” Grantaire asked, lit only by a flickering outdoor lamp.

“Not anything official... I’m performing a cello solo and some ensemble stuff at the showcase next week, though,” their faces were blistered by the heat from the tea.

“Wait... What is your main instrument?” Grantaire filled his lungs with smoke, “Can you play the whole orchestra?” he joked.

“Pretty much,” Enjolras scuffed his toes against the floor, “Pushy parents...” he paused, “I’m grateful, though. I don’t know where I’d be without music.”

“Do you not think you’d have found it anyway?” Grantaire asked, eyes closed, lips parted.

“What? Music?” Enjolras tucked his hands under his jacket to warm them. “Who knows? I’d probably have ended up as a lawyer, or a banker or something.”

“What... like ninety percent of the Saint-Michel graduates?” he slumped his head to the side and traced a bird through the sky with a half-amused tilt to his mouth. “Anyway, I don’t believe that for a second. You’d have found it... it’s who you are.”

Enjolras watched him closely, mouth suddenly dry.

“Do you want...?” Grantaire asked, tilting the cigarette towards him.

“Oh no... I don’t smoke.”

“Tobacco?”

“Anything,” Enjolras answered, lungs recoiling at the scent.

“Man of strong morals,” he said, yawning slightly. “I’m afraid I have none.” He kicked the end of his cigarette into an overflowing pile. “Let’s finish this masterpiece.”

A laugh bubbled in Enjolras’ chest and burst through, clattering loudly in the patch of cobblestones.

“Grantaire,” he asked, and the boy turned around with a look in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected Enjolras to even know his name. “Why are you even at Saint-Michel’s?” He stood, hands still warming beneath his arms. “Surely there’s a contemporary school of music you could study at?”

“Um,” said Grantaire, turning slightly red. Enjolras couldn’t tell whether he was blushing, or if it were just the sunset bouncing off his cheeks. “I’m performing at the showcase next week, so maybe, if you stick around, you’ll see why.”

They stepped back inside, the air gracefully far warmer.

“What does that mean?” Enjolras asked, itching for Grantaire’s answer. “Do you play like the oboe or something?”

“You’ll see...” Grantaire lifted a corner of his mouth and Enjolras inexplicably had to drop his gaze, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. “Can’t give away all my mystery at once,” he leaned in, “My mystery is all I have going for me.”

“Very mysterious,” said Enjolras in a small voice, laugh curling the edge of his breath. His senses snapped from the moment as a shrill ringing screeched from Grantaire’s phone.

“Oh,” the sound poured from his lips like carelessly spilled water, his eyes glazed. “I didn’t realise it was so late.” He threw his phone roughly onto the bed and stretched his limbs out.

“Plans for the evening?” Enjolras asked, hovering by the keyboard, fingers longing for the keys.

“I forgot all about it...” Grantaire cursed, grabbing a fresh shirt from his wardrobe, patterned with an unexpectedly intricate Victorian design in forest green. “I could call it off...” but the words eked from him, as if cancelling his plans was not on his mind at all.

“No, of course not... Um... I’ll just...” Enjolras cleared his throat, making for his scarf. “Nice shirt.”

“It’s my wooing shirt,” Grantaire laughed, mirth smeared in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re going on a date?” Enjolras said with a smile, shouldering his coat.

Grantaire laughed again, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “A date...” he made quick work of the buttons on the shirt he was wearing. “Sure... let’s call it that.”

With a swift movement, he slithered from the material of his top and threw it onto a lump of clothing. Enjolras caught a glimpse of his russet shoulders, marked with delicate black ink and masses of freckles before he turned to the door, cheeks heating.

“I’ll head off then,” he said, blinking a little too rapidly.

“One sec,” Grantaire said, “Catch!”

Enjolras was forced to confront the image of a half-shirted Grantaire and apologised fervently, missing the memory stick soaring towards him and hearing it clatter by his feet.

“Sorry for what? I have no shame regarding the human form...” he quirked an eyebrow.

“You sound like Jehan.”

“Jehan sounds like me...They used to do life modelling for me.”

“Huh?” Enjolras gaped.

“Yeah, I have the pictures somewhere. They’re very artful... Do you want to see?”

“I feel like I would have to ask Jehan first...”

“You’re such a sweet boy,” Grantaire said in a deeply southern accent. “Didn’t you see Jehan in that exhibition where they stood naked in a forest or something?”

“Oh...” Enjolras recalled it well, “The Adam and Eve thing. It was certainly an interesting take on religious gender non-conformity...” He tilted his head, “I think they still get death threats sometimes.”

Grantaire threw his head back in a laugh, and Enjolras wished he could throw such a glorious laugh around with Grantaire’s ease.

“Hang on, I’ll show you out.” He bumped open the door with his hip, towering a myriad of plates and empty cups in his hands.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Enjolras said, voice shatteringly polite, “Seriously, Grantaire, I’m so grateful.”

Grantaire grazed his shoulder up into a shrug and brushed Enjolras’ comment away with finesse. “Ép,” he said, slamming the dirty dishes onto the table before her. She peered up from a clunky Mac, headphones nestled in her hair. She gazed at him briefly before her eyebrows slanted downwards.

“What’s with the wooing shirt?” she asked, dragging the headphones from her ears.

“Are you going to be here all night?” he asked, grabbing an apple and sinking his teeth into it.

“Yeah...?” she said after a pause, “Ugh, don’t make me leave,” she complained, “I’m literally in the middle of producing right now.”

“No, its fine,” Grantaire’s eyes were burning hazel under the setting sun, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Just tell Claque if I find any more of his masks, or creepy merchandise in my room again, he’s banned from ever coming here again. I’ve had enough. He’s doing it on purpose now, I swear...” Grantaire looked to Enjolras with a dark shade in his gaze, “I found an ornamental dagger in my pillowcase last night,” he said in way of explanation. “It’s getting beyond weird now.”

“He does it to show affection,” Éponine said, “Like a cat.”

“That’s even worse!” Grantaire said, “Like at least ten billion times worse! Tell him there is more to life than aesthetic.”

“Try to tell that to anyone in the band, my dear,” Éponine laughed. “Well, have fun guys!”

Enjolras blinked.

“Éponine!” Grantaire hissed, shaking his head frenetically. “The shirt’s not for him.”

The moment stretched out and Éponine let out a giggle, collapsing her head onto her forearms. “Oops!” she snorted, “I totally thought you were gonna...”

“Why would I make us go all the way back to his house?” Grantaire said, smirk playing on his face, “I’m a good host, Ép. You would be kicked out.”

“This is weird...” Enjolras interjected, feeling a little flushed.

“You’re right. This is weird, and it’s all your fault,” Grantaire said, pulling a face at Éponine. “Right, I better get ready.”

With a spin, Grantaire reached their front door and presented it to Enjolras with a bow. “It has been a pleasure to work with you, Enjolras. When’s the lesson we have to perform in?”

“Monday at nine,” Enjolras said, “With Valjean.”

Grantaire groaned. “Very devious of you to tell me that at the very end... Monday at nine! Okay, okay, fine. I’ll see you then. Maybe I’ll catch you before to practise.” Grantaire’s eyes were drifting away, “Seriously, though, we should hang sometime. Courf seems really cool.”

“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras said, “He really is.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Grantaire joked. Enjolras eyed the pattern of his shirt.

“No, he is! Anyway, I don’t want to keep you... Enjoy your... thing.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, giving another laugh, but peering through narrowed eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” Enjolras started, “Oh sorry... just have Beethoven on my mind.”

“What?” Grantaire asked, “Well... Good luck with that?” he leant forwards and briefly embraced Enjolras, kissing the air beside his cheeks casually. “See you later. Safe travels!”

Enjolras travelled back on the metro with a strange, roiling sensation shifting in his stomach. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the haunting melodies of Shostakovich ensnare his senses for the ride.

~*~

“House meeting!” shouted Combeferre, who perhaps called house meetings far more than necessary.

“What’s wrong now?” asked Courf with a playful groan, “Did I eat your last avocado again?”

“The issue to discuss is a certain Courfeyrac’s attendance in this household,” said Combeferre, opening his journal and scratching down a title. He flicked to another page and nodded, “You’ve been absent five out of the past seven nights...”

Courfeyrac lounged back on the sofa, letting his mass of dark curls flop over his eyes, “Sorry, dad.”

“I feel like you shouldn’t be paying full rent,” Combeferre said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But... there is a way to rectify your missteps.”

“You can tell he’s going to be the most intense teacher in five years time,” Courfeyrac said with an eye roll to Enjolras.

“No backchat,” Enjolras quipped, quietly letting his fingers drift over the strings of his harp.

The three of them laughed in tangent.

“Seriously though, you have to give an opinion on my dissertation,” Combeferre said, throwing a chunky booklet into his friend’s hands.

“No!” Courfeyrac elongated, letting the vowel ring out through the flat. “Why am I subjected to such cruel punishment for taking advantage of my youth?”

“Love you so much!” Combeferre said, giving Enjolras a roguish wink. “We’ve sorted him out,” he said in a mock whisper, ignoring Courfeyrac’s dramatic complaints. “What’s wrong, Enj?”

“Hm?” Enjolras leant his forehead against the gilded edge of his harp.

“You’re playing Tchaikovsky again.”

“What does that mean?” Enjolras sighed, stilling his fingers.

“Darling,” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, “The last time you looked this mopey was when I said I didn’t like Bach that much.”

Enjolras instantly frowned. “You should be expelled from Saint-Michel’s, you heathen.”

“Stop deflecting,” Combeferre interjected, “Do I have to call the second house meeting of the night?”

“Do you guys think I’m not living in the student life as much as I could be?”

“Absolutely,” Courf said.

“One thousand percent,” Combeferre added, “But since when have you wanted to act like a student?”

“Has that nasty boy Grantaire been corrupting you?” Courfeyrac asked, “I’ll be having words with him.”

“I think you might have a chance with him,” Enjolras tilted his head, watching the flare of interest in Courfeyrac’s eyes.

“Nah,” he said after a moment, “It would break Jehan and I’s agreement. No sharing.”

Enjolras licked his cracked lips and his eyebrows folded. “Jehan and Grantaire...? They were a thing?”

Courfeyrac laughed lazily. “You know Jehan... Free love... There’s literally no-one in that circle that Jehan hasn’t slept with... Well, apart from Gueulemer... he’s painfully straight. We’re both trying to see who can crack him.”

“You’re awful, Courf,” Combeferre said, “Leave the poor heterosexual alone.”

“Are you going out tomorrow night, Courf?” Enjolras asked, the words tasting brassy on his tongue.

“Dunno,” he turned his wide-eyed gaze to Combeferre, “Can I go out tomorrow, dad, please?”

Combeferre grimaced. “Stop calling me dad.”

“Daddy says yes,” Courf said with an exaggerated wink.

“House meeting!” Combeferre shouted, mirth in his eyes, “The issue on the table: never do that again.” He shut his notebook and stalked away.

“Well, I’ll come with you.”

“Ooh, Enjolras!” Courfeyrac said, scandalised, “On a school night as well! You little rebel!”

~*~

After university the next day, Enjolras contemplated himself in the mirror, red shirt as stark as blood against his skin. He buttoned it to the top, but unfastened the button closest to his neck. He imagined calling it his ‘wooing shirt’ to literally anybody and almost turned as scarlet as the material. With a glimpse at his alarm, he noticed the lateness of the hour and snapped at Courfeyrac to hurry up.

“Me?” Courfeyrac gaped, “I’ve been ready for the past four hours,” he exaggerated, still shirtless and barefoot. “I’m not the one raunchily exposing a slither of neck and blushing at myself.”

“That’s not-” Enjolras blushed, “That wasn’t what I was doing!”

“Gosh! I’ve heard that Enjolras is a floozy, you know?” Courf called to no one in particular, “I once caught a glimpse of his ankles!”

“His ankles?!” Combeferre called from a distant room, sounding aghast.

“You both are the worst,” Enjolras said, still flushed. Courfeyrac grinned and ruffled a hand through Enjolras’ mass of blonde curls.

“Come on, you harlot,” he tiptoed to smack an affectionate kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, “We have some revelry to revel in.”

By Courfeyrac’s standards, revelry was measured in how blisteringly high one could become.

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” he drawled, after they had arrived at the party, passing a joint to Jehan, arm crossing over Enjolras’ chest as he did so. “I just think that if the moon was real then it wouldn’t be such a symbol of mystery... I’m just saying... who looks at the moon and isn’t a little bit creeped out?”

“You get creeped out by the moon?” Joly asked, head resting on Musichetta’s lap.

“Like...” said Courf, eyes drifting shut, “Like just a tiny bit...” a small cough rattled in his throat, “I just don’t trust it.”

“I think the moon is lovely,” Jehan said. Joly peered up and shared an eye-roll with Enjolras. Joly was the first violinist in the Saint-Michel orchestra, and had dealt with the whole bunch of orchestral stoners more than Enjolras had had the will to.

“You think everything is lovely, Jehan,” Enjolras said. Jehan looked at him with starry, brown eyes and slumped against the column of his neck.

Then, amidst the smoke haze of the room, time seemed to unfold far quicker than it usually did, and Jehan had led Enjolras to their room, to show him the life paintings Grantaire had mentioned.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, head a little fuzzy, “Very artful... he said they were.” The pictures captured Jehan as they looked in the current moment, lazy-eyed and oozing contentedness. “They’re incredible, Jehan.”

“Tell Grantaire... he was the one who did the hard work.”

Enjolras was not sure what came over him, but he ducked his head and felt the edge of Jehan’s lip between his own. He felt a hand leap to the back of his head, and the warm curl of fingers lace themselves through his hair. Jehan’s lips feel like a revolution – Enjolras had never kissed someone so well versed in the art of kissing. The lips on his neck made him gasp for air. He contemplated how long it had been since the skin of his neck had been worshipped so... too long. A year ago with the pretentious cellist that was too attractive for words, (Enjolras had called it off when the sex had been the only part that didn’t bore him half to death.)

“Jehan,” he mouthed, feeling mind-spinningly blissful. His hand dropped to Jehan’s waist, feeling for a seam of material. His fingers searched blindly, tracing the edge of Jehan’s hips, increasingly frantic. Enjolras broke away with a tut and stared at Jehan’s attire.

“It’s a romper,” Jehan said in explanation. Then, as Enjolras moved his hands to the zip on Jehan’s back, they said, “What are you doing, Enjolras?” Enjolras pressed his lips to Jehan’s collarbone, who laughed breathily and batted his head away. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m looking for my wilder side,” Enjolras said, eyes dark.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Jehan said lightly, “I thought this was just a friendly make-out session.”

“You sleep with everyone,” Enjolras said, drawing back and resenting the whine that had infiltrated into his tone. In lieu of offense, Jehan merely snorted with a grin.

“Look, I’m down for casual flings aplenty, but you, my friend, are not.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“No,” Jehan shrugged, “You wouldn’t be here if you were.”

“That makes no sense,” Enjolras frowned, “Your pseudo-deep doesn’t work on me.”

“Come on, Enj,” Jehan said, patting Enjolras good-naturedly on the chest, “If you actually wanted a hook-up, you wouldn’t have come to the one person you thought would never turn you down... I’m sorry, but I am just not dealing with the emotional nonsense you are sure to bring.”

“What?” he gaped, mouth dropping open.

“You’re a drama queen, Enjolras – you can’t even deny it...” they smiled, “Let’s not do this.” Jehan tucked the sketches back into place and stretched out their arms. “Wow,” they said with a hazy blink, “I am too high right now.”

“You always are,” muttered Enjolras.

“Don’t get grumpy with me, darling,” Jehan said, “I still love you.”

Enjolras flushed a little, still not as open with his words as Jehan could be. “Yeah, and I love you as well. Besides, I’m not grumpy with you, I’m grumpy with myself.”

“Enjolras,” Jehan tutted, “Don’t mope... I can shower you with positive affirmations, if you’d like... You’re the loveliest boy I’ve ever met, anyone would be blessed to have you, and you’re as beautiful as the sun itself... I am at once blinded by you yet cannot take my eyes from you... happy now?”

Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his mouth. Jehan laughed and pressed a friendly kiss to his lips.

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassed,” Enjolras said, covering his face.

“About what?” Jehan said, smile lazy, “I’m so high, I’ve forgotten already.”

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dustedmagazine · 6 years ago

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Dust Volume 4, Number 10

Underworld and Iggy Pop photo by Rob Ashton Baker

The fall rush of record releases is in full swing, and unopened promos are piling up like leaves on hard drives, kitchen counters and office floors. We’ll never catch up, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying, as Dusted writers crack open the obscure and the celebrated, the familiar and the new to us, the comfortably in our lanes and the way out there. As always this edition of Dust covers a lot of ground, from retro New Orleans R&B to grind to dream pop to some eyebrow raising cross-genre collaborations. There is also a surprising amount of improvised bass music. Contributors this time include Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Bill Meyer and Jonathan Shaw.

Carlo Ditta — Pass the Hatchet b/w Life in Heaven (Orleans)

youtube

After a lifetime of making other people sound good — as the songwriter for the Mighty Sam McClain, Willie Deville and others and as the long-time proprietor of Orleans records — Carlo Ditta carves out a space in the front for himself in this smoldering R&B single. “Pass the Hatchet” on side A revives a slithery 1966 classic by New Orleans songwriter Earl “Stereo” Stanley Oropeza, with Oropeza himself in tow. The song is a marvel of shimmery swamp guitars, squalling sax and back-slanting swagger, like Andre Williams in a deep ruminative groove. “Life in Heaven” is slower, blearier and more rickety, like a Tom Waits cut lost in the rain. There’s no hurry anywhere in these two sides, no particular urgency in catching your ear, but give it time and a moody magic will take hold, hot, humid and indolent.

Jennifer Kelly

EMA — Outtakes from Exile EP (City Slang)

youtube

As you might expect from an EP of offcuts from a very strong album, only a few of the five tracks on the newest release from Erika M. Anderson are truly essential, but nothing here is really lacking either. And those two tracks are at near opposite ends of the spectrum of EMA’s work; the 20-minute “Breathalyzer Instrumental (EMA Long Cut)” is pretty much what it says on the tin, one-third of an hour worth of the sinister, fuzzed out, gradually shifting drone and clang that underscored one of the highlights of Exile in the Outer Ring. To listeners not into this kind of thing it probably feels indulgent; for the converted, it could easily be doubled or tripled (or just, you know, looped). Whereas “From the Love That We Made,” which Anderson feels strongly enough about to play at recent shows is more distinctly song-like and intensely emotional in a way that links it to everything from Exile opening track “Seven Years” all the way back to Anderson’s “Cherylee” from her years in Gowns. The other three songs here are worthy of being collected (two being fun, darkly electronic tunes and “Anything Good” feeling like a dry run for “Down and Out” from the album with different subject matter) but it’s in those two tracks, one of which it feels like a shame there wasn’t room for on Exile and one which absolutely would not have fit in, that are the best reminders of EMA’s talents.

Ian Mathers

Billy Gomberg — Beginners (Dinzu Artifacts)

Beginners by Billy Gomberg

Billy Gomberg is no beginner. He’s been releasing music of his own and with Fraufraulein, a duo with Anne Guthrie, for nearly a decade. And the sound sources he uses on this tape are familiar ones — electric bass, urban field recordings, synthesizer and hand-manipulated objects. Even so, it feels like something new is happening here. Gomberg’s music has often seemed to stretch away from the listener, luring you to follow it through virtual expanses of space and time. Now it seems closer at hand, the sounds like sunning fish just under a pond’s surface. They’re simultaneously more recognizable and more processed that what he’s played in the past, creating a discreet reality that never quite loses its mystery no matter how often you play it.

Bill Meyer

Brandon Lopez — Quoniam Facta Sum Vilis (Astral Spirits)

quoniam facta sum vilis by Brandon Lopez

One door closes, others open. Barre Phillips, the grand-père of solitary improvised double bass performance, has just closed out a half century of exploration with a final solo CD. In the same year, two musicians young enough to be his grandkids have taken up the gauntlet by releasing albums on Astral Spirits. Luke Stewart’s wasn’t quite solo; he gave his amplifier a co-starring role. But Brandon Lopez’s Quoniam Facta Sum Vilis is full-on mano a contrabass. Each of its eight tracks zeros in on a particular way to attack the instrument. Fittingly, “Vanitas” sounds like it arises from some great sonic depth to ascend to a writing platform. On “Lay,” stark figures blossom and twist like bursts of turbulent cloud erupting from a soon-to-blow volcano. The energy that Lopez expends on each track might give the listener pause. Will he stay in his corner? Will he throw the fight? No, he comes back for another round, and the listener’s the winner.

Bill Meyer

Stefan Neville / Greg Malcolm — A Nuance (Feeding Tube)

A Nuance (2017) by Greg Malcolm + Stefan Neville

Sometimes you can listen to a record and know who engineered or produced it. Steve Albini, Steve Lillywhite, Roy Thomas Baker — these guys have a signature sound or respect for certain kinds of sound that stands out no matter who they’re recording. To that number, add New Zealander Stefan Neville. He’s mostly recorded himself, performing under the name Pumice, and anytime he gets his hands on the two-track he favors a blown-speaker distorted quality that’s unmistakably his own. That sound meets a song selection process that could best be described as “let’s call our favorite tunes and whack ‘em down” on this record, which was mostly recorded live one night in 2015 in Ohope, a surfer’s haven situated on the Bay of Plenty. Research turned up no evidence that Neville, who plays drums, keyboards, and tapes, and Malcolm, a marvelously idiosyncratic guitarist whose aesthetic cherry-picks the best of rock, jazz and the folk musics of the world, caught any waves while making this record. But their treatment of the Klezmer tune “Sirba” evokes mental images of dudes with sidecurls riding their boards right through that hole in your woofer. They aren’t confined to one mode of transportation, though; in their hands “Telstar” becomes an ode to a rocket ship held together by duct tape and the Scottish hornpipe “Banish Misfortune” soundtracks a dogged march through ruins.

Bill Meyer

The Papercuts—Parallel Universe Blues (Slumberland)

Parallel Universe Blues by Papercuts

Jason Quever’s sixth album as Papercuts gets the balance between daydream and muscle right, shoring up his delicate melodies and shimmery guitar textures with drums in a way that much of his work between the stellar Can’t Go Back and now have not. Thus while tremulous organs and feathery fretwork strew glitter dust on tracks like “Mattress on the Floor,” while lush, choral harmonies buttress its wistful wondering, you don’t get lost in the clouds. A swaggering Spector beat punctuates airy “Laughing Man,” underlining the keen ache of its melody and resolutely preventing the cut from evaporating into mist. “Clean Living,” with its strident bowed cello and pounding toms, is even more emphatic, a drifty melancholia anchored to the here and now, and “Walk Backwards” slips a drum-pumping adrenaline into its narcotic haze. Quever’s world maintains its soft, evocative edges—there’s plenty of space for moody contemplation—but runs a through line of rhythmic motion from one end to another of his songs. Always lovely, his songs here are unusually purposeful and gripping.

Jennifer Kelly

Pig Destroyer — Head Cage (Relapse)

Pig Destroyer’s new LP opens with 20 seconds’ worth of Ray Noble and His Orchestra’s “Midnight, Stars and You” (which some listeners will recognize from a certain scene in Kubrick’s The Shining); over the strings, a cultivated English voice, sounding much like Margaret Thatcher, intones, “We will not be held responsible for any hearing impairments or damage caused to you from excessive exposure to this sound.” Then the record proper starts. It’s not a particularly new device, but it’s sort of funny, and it signals something about this record: Pig Destroyer are making music you can enjoy. That’s a big shift. On 2012’s terrific Book Burner, the band distanced themselves from the gratuitous gross-out splatter (and the even grosser misogyny) of earlier records like Terrifyer and Prowler in the Yard. But like that early music, Book Burner was a grindcore record: uncompromising, unrelenting, deeply pissed off. Head Cage varies the sonic palate. There’s still a heavy dose of grind, but there are also hearty portions of death metal, hardcore and even suggestions of slam. That’s not to suggest that the record is incoherent or opportunistic. Pig Destroyer have been at their craft for the better part of two decades, and all that experience shows. Songs this precise and athletic are hard to perform, and harder to compose. In addition to all the pace and volume, Pig Destroyer have discovered a groove: check out the supple bottom end and nigh-danceable riffing of “Army of Cops” and the first minute of “The Adventures of Jason and JR.” There’s even a sort-of love song. Fun may not have been on the agenda when Pig Destroyer were creating these songs, but it’s hard not to have some fun listening to this madly pinballing, energetic album.

Jonathan Shaw

Quietus—Volume Four (Ever/Never)

Volume Four by Quietus

Geoffrey Bankowski makes slow, somnolent, surreal music, employing the usual tools of bedroom recording—hushed voice, lingering tones of guitar and piano, tape hiss—in hypnotic, idiosyncratic patterns. Here, simple melodies course through complex architectures of noise and music. A clarinet soars over clatter and dissonance. Odd, evocative fragments of lyrics drift in and out of focus. It’s a gentle ride, but surreptitiously wild, lulling you into calm, even as it takes you to some very odd places. “Airfield” for instance has a sleepy indie rock surface, all strummy guitar backdrop and whispered fantasies. Still anarchy lurks in the sounds between phrases, muted clashes and hums and booms suggesting a fight in the room down the hall. Likewise “Whisper into Muddy Cloth” slouches into being, a dirty rain of guitar chords pelting slack murmured phrases; it could be home-taped Pavement or nascent Silver Jews. And yet, a scrim of noise obscures whatever’s pop at the core of these songs, grounds them in a lo-fi bank of decomposing organic matter and makes them both realer and harder to grasp than you’d expect.

Jennifer Kelly

Underworld/Iggy Pop — Teatime Dub Encounters EP (Caroline International)

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Other than, er, both appearing on the soundtrack of Trainspotting (the sequel to which was the catalyst to this EP, where soundtrack supervisor Rick Smith met with Iggy Pop and to the latter’s surprise were ready with a portable studio if he was willing to seize the moment…) it’s unclear how much overlap the fan bases of these two titans in their fields actually have, but the unexpectedly winning Teatime Dub Encounters ought to have something for both. “Bells and Circles” immediately establishes the mood, with a clearly whimsical Pop talking about having wings and smoking on airplanes and trying to pick up stewardess while Karl Hyde and opera singer/Smith’s daughter Esme Bronwen-Smith (both in fine voice) coax him into a refrain of “sunlight on my wings” that’s as beatific as anything on Barbara, Barbara We Face a Shining Future. While much of the EP’s material works in that register, with beautifully sculpted productions from Smith given an appealingly ramshackle feel by Pop’s vamping about losing his shirt and being trapped in the suburbs, there’s also the slightly melancholy, surprisingly moving “I’ll See Big,” where Pop reminisces about the nature of friendship and the way life changes relationships. As one element of a more joyous overall work it’s strongly effective, but much of Teatime Dub Encounters suggests neither Underworld nor Iggy Pop need are in any hurry to stop creating.

Ian Mathers

Various Artists — Seed Blunt / AC DC (Gilded Records)

Seed Blunt / AC DC by Vibrating Skull Trio // Packard/Hoogland

When two ensembles share a recording, one hopes to find some shared resonance. You could listen for a while and keep puzzling, but you don’t have to look too far to find the common vibe on this tape. Both sessions were improvised in Chicago, mostly by Chicagoans. Vibrating Skull Trio, which includes drummer Phil Sudderberg, prepared guitar player Eli Namay and clarinetist John McCowen, obtain an electronic-sounding foundation from the latter’s contrabass clarinet. Further pursuing paradox, their music feels patient even when it arises from the collision of agitated actions. Flip the tape and you’ll find a more fractious encounter between Dutch keyboardist Oscar Jan Hoogland and Chicago-based drummer Ryan Packard. Both men bring plenty of electronics into the fray, so that it often sounds like a sound clash between a drum machine and an old radio tuned to somewhere east of Istanbul. Electric sputter gives way to reluctant exchanges of feedback squiggles punctuated by cheap electric key plunks. The two sides of this tape don’t sound like each other, but they jointly make a strong case for not sounding like those who have come before you.

Bill Meyer

Matt Weston—This Is Your Rosemont Horizon (7272 Music)

This Is Your Rosemont Horizon by Matt Weston

Chicagoans of a certain age will get the reference. But for the benefit of everyone else, the Rosemont Horizon was once the name of an arena situated just northeast of O’Hare Airport. Depending on your age and tastes, you might have had your life changed there by Madonna, Andrea Bocelli, Taylor Swift or Queen; this writer cherishes memories of a pretty rocking night involving Sonic Youth, Neil Young & Crazy Horse and thousands of pissed-off Neil Young fans. Matt Weston might have been there that night, but this record doesn’t sound like anything you’ve ever heard coming from any stadium PA. People move on, and Weston’s moved into an idiosyncratic extension of INA-GRM electro-acoustic composition filtered through some more contemporary rock and glitch moves. Keyboards dance, needles scratch and bump and monolithic sound walls grow out of the splatter and evaporate in the echoing space of some airport terminal. It’s just the thing for when you don’t want any questions answered.

Bill Meyer

Xylouris White — Mother (Bella Union)

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George Xylouris and Jim White have, for three albums now, shown that their collaboration is among the best places to catch these two supremely talented musicians. Even existing fans of the Xylouris musical dynasty in Greece (George specializing in the lute-like laouto) and White’s drumming with the Dirty Three and Nick Cave’s band might have been surprised at just how much the two have shone together. With Mother, for the first time one of their albums begins with the big bang rather than moving towards it, with the one-two punch of the forbidding “In Media Res” and the incredibly fun “Only Love” beginning things strongly and the album gradually exploring less urgent rhythms until it winds up with a beautiful closing “Lullabye.” About the faintest praise you can damn Mother with is that it’s another excellent, compulsively listenable album from the duo, but whereas 2016’s Black Peak marked a leap forward from their debut, here there’s less of a significant progression than a refinement. And that’s not really a criticism; when you’re as adroit and compelling in conversation as Xylouris White is, it’s hard to hope for much more than many future albums like this.

Ian Mathers

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symphonyinsea · 7 years ago

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It’s been a while since I last posted here, and for good reason. Musical took up most of my free time over the last couple of months, and then we had four fantastic shows - so many people have told us it was the best show in years. That was two weeks ago now. I’m only just about coming out from the post-show blues - it was worst the week after when I still had some medicine to do, but now I’ve had a week off uni (plus a spontaneous adventure on a Scottish island), I’ve been able to process all that’s happened.

My last long post was after weekend away in February. Since then, the intensity ramped up significantly. As well as having all-day rehearsals every Sunday, we had more arranging to do (I had to learn how to write drum and guitar parts, as well as doing scene-change music), as well as band rehearsals starting on top of everything else. It was hectic and stressful for a while, but it was honestly so, so worth it. We managed to make a great show, and we definitely pulled off what we were trying to achieve.

One of the most special moments was collaborating on the overture with MD. We decided to use music from the film of our show rather than a classic overture which would spoil all our tunes. I wrote the first part, which was a ‘straighter’, more classical version, and MD wrote the second part which was a jazz version of the same themes. It was a lot of work, but incredibly satisfying when it came together. We’re both so proud of it - it was a true collaboration and each of us had creative input into the other’s work: he gave me advice about the style of my parts while I helped him with the strings and some harmonies in his part. I’ll always cherish that score, with both our names side by side as the composers/arrangers.

MD and I got really close over the past few weeks. In the run-up to the show, we were seeing each other 3-4 times per week, and then every day in the last two weeks. We relied on each other, and we made such a brilliant team. I feel truly lucky to have worked with him. It’s rare that a creative partnership works so well - none of the previous MD teams in the time since we’ve been here has functioned quite as well as we did. Our strengths and weaknesses balance each other out, and we’re able to communicate so well, and give and receive constructive criticism and encouragement in a way the other person can hear. It’s been pretty special.

And, musically, we complemented each other so well. With him coming from a jazz background and me from a more classical one, we managed to get a great balance of tunes in the show: he was great at writing the jazzy tunes, and I made a decent effort at the more musical-y ones and the bits of film music we used for scene changes. We can confidently say that all instruments had their chance to shine and play interesting parts. Plus, with our contacts from both jazz and classical circles, we managed to assemble an epic set of people for our band. All our brass and rhythm played in the uni jazz band, and most of our string players played in the uni orchestras. We sounded so freaking good.

I know I mostly talk about music here (because that’s where I was involved), but I’ve got to give full credit to our directors, choreographers, writers, editors, stage managers, tech managers, producers, set design, and amazing cast for all their work. It was truly a team effort, and everyone brought their best to the project. I am so in awe of how talented my year is. Just the fact that we have so many strong singers - we had a great ensemble cast - blows my mind, and I don’t think there’s been a year while I’ve been here with so many great voices. Our script was also spot on and hilarious - our editors were ruthless, and it meant that each scene was paced right, and each joke landed. Our plot actually made sense. And, the dances were incredible. MD and I worked closest with the choreographers during rehearsals, and we saw how much effort they put into teaching and drilling chorus with their moves. But it looked so professional and fun by the end - hats off to them.

And now we have to return to real life. My next rotation is Urology. But we have a screening of the show next week to look forward to, at least. I think the thing I’ll miss most is regularly seeing all these wonderful people from my year, who I wouldn’t necessarily interact with otherwise. The musical really brought us all together.

As for MD and I, it’s been interesting, and I’m not quite sure what to think at this stage. We’ve built up a lot of mutual trust and respect over the past few weeks and months. He’s more open and vulnerable with me than he used to be, and I feel safe being myself with him. He encouraged and complimented my work regularly, and said how much he admired and appreciated me. I was able to be his rock and provide the support he needed over the last few weeks, picking up his slack and letting him do his thing. So, there’s definitely a deep friendship there and I hope that, at least, continues.

Is there anything more? It’s so hard to tell. There are certain things he’s said and done which gave me hope, but still nothing is concrete - he hasn’t explicitly asked me out yet.

- We’ve had lots of coffee together, and often had lunch together during rehearsals. Sometimes he would ask me to join him, sometimes I would ask him. Sometimes he would pay for me when I didn’t have cash and sometimes I paid for him (although he was always a bit uncomfortable with that, and said he would pay me back).

- One time when we went to get lunch together, a friend invited himself along. He had bought food at a different place, and so when MD and I went to pay, when the cashier asked if it was together or separately and I said separately, the other friend said ‘Oooh, is this the first date or second date?’ jokingly - and MD said ‘more like 500′.

- He always checked my opinion about things, whether it was on his song arrangements, or his conducting, or how best to plan rehearsals. Even during the shows, he would sometimes look at me to confirm that we weren’t supposed to play that song yet, or if he was going too slow etc. During the intervals, he would ask me for my comments on how it was going, or if there was anything he could do better.

- On the second night, his parents were there, and his mum came up to me and told me well done for all my work - when he saw me talking to his mother, he introduced me to both his mum and dad, saying that I wrote more of the music than he did, and anything beautiful/technically difficult was written by me.

- He started hugging me a lot. In all our time working together, the only time he hugged me was after he was on a high from his final jazz concert of the year. But, from the second show night onwards, he’s hugged me every time I saw him. Most of those were understandable in context - after our fabulous second show, after hugging his other (guy) friend to say goodbye when he was leaving, after the last show, after get-out when our time as an MD team had ended. But our final hug is what makes me feel like something changed - it was just after a casual lunch (I’ll elaborate later) and it was on a street corner where we had parted ways many times previously without hugging. Although maybe it was because we wouldn’t see each other for a couple weeks. But still - I had more hugs from him in the last week or so than in the entire previous year.

- One of my best friends (the only one who knows I like him) saw us interact together after the third show and texted me later ‘He definitely likes you! I can tell’.

- He always introduces me by my name and ‘position’, as in this is [symphony] who co-MD’d the musical. He’s never explicitly referred to me as just his ‘friend’. I think that’s a good thing?

- But perhaps the thing that gives me the most hope/is the most confusing is the gift he gave me on the last night. For context, my instrument case has slowly been falling apart over the last few months, but I didn’t have time to replace it. Now, at the final show, we were in a bit of a rush to get ready because we had a band meal beforehand. I went to get changed after warm-up and when I got back, my case had disappeared - one of the band members said MD had put it away backstage. Bit strange, because cases usually went in the cupboard under the seats in the auditorium, but I didn’t think too much of it. At the end of the final show, I had to put my instrument away. After saying bye to my family who had come, I went to find MD and asked where he had put my case. He said he would take me there. It took a while because we both kept being waylaid by cast/friends who wanted to say congratulations and how much they had enjoyed the show. All the while I was awkwardly holding my instrument, but praise is always nice and we were all on such a high so it was okay. Eventually MD and I reached the place where my case was. It was on some chairs, and I was about to grab it and put my instrument in, when he stopped me. Then, he reached under the chairs and pulled out a brand new case, much nicer than my old one. He told me, ‘someone as good as you shouldn’t have to carry that old thing’. I didn’t know how to react, and there was this odd look in his eyes. He was so serious, and it felt like a goodbye. I thought it was over at that point. I shoved down the feels for a while, and took the cases downstairs, but when I was putting my instrument away, I just had waves of emotion coming over me, thinking, ‘it’s over, it’s really over’. My feelings about the musical and MD were so intermingled, and I was overwhelmed. Some people from the cast/crew spotted me, and I told them that MD had just given me a new case. I don’t think they quite understood what it meant - they said he was very kind, but I deserved it after all the work I’d put in. But I was still processing it. I opened the case and it was so beautiful inside - I was still staring at it in a state of shock when MD returned. He asked if I liked it, and I said yeah, it was so much better than my old one. He could see the look on my face, and said ‘Come here...’ - I rather unceremoniously dumped the case on the ground and stood up, and he gave me a big hug. It just felt so final. From the way he was looking at me, he seemed to feel the same. I sat back down, slowly putting my instrument away, still overwhelmed, and he left me alone, to go talk to his family, and so I could gather myself. Later, I looked up the cost of the case, to see if I could get him a present (I hadn’t got him anything, to my embarrassment - it just didn’t cross my mind, with everything else going on). The case cost him £60, and this from a guy who chooses the cheaper lunch to save money. It is the most expensive present anyone who’s not family has ever given me. And, it was so thoughtful - it’s exactly what I needed, and so practical - he knows what I would appreciate. And now every time I play my violin it will remind me of him.

But, it did feel so final. It felt like a goodbye. Even at the afterparty, we didn’t spend much time talking one-on-one. There was sadness in his eyes when he looked at me, whenever we were on the brink of talking, but there were so many other people there, and music for dancing, and a mood of celebration with everyone else. Plus, his ex was there. And, one of the choreos who had a crush on him was always there when I was near him, so I didn’t get a chance to say much. But it did feel like he was more closed off than previously. I saw him glance at me a few times while I was dancing and he was talking to his best female friend (who’s good friends with his ex, so nothing can happen there). He looked kinda sad, and she was comforting him. But still, when I left the afterparty at 6am, it was with a heavy heart, feeling like it was over - both the musical, and my hopes with MD.

At get-out the next day, I tried to stay light. I was with my other friends - MD didn’t arrive until fairly late. When he did arrive, we finally got a chance to chat, briefly. We divided the scores - he had printed 2 copies of the overture we had collaborated on, then we each took the songs we had arranged. We had a little time to reflect on our time as the MD team, but his friends arrived too soon and it was over. He helped me put some of the lighting equipment into my car. There were a lot of emotions bubbling under the surface. But, his friends were there, so we couldn’t be as open as we had been. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. His best friend was standing by us at the time - we had a quick hug, and his friend commented that goodbyes were always a bit underwhelming. We were both feeling down and weary - I could see the sadness in his eyes again. But we were already a bit distant. I got into my car and left.

That evening, I had serious post-show blues, and I spent about an hour bed, crying. Emotional messages were flooding my phone from the production/rehearsal team and cast. I contributed one of my own. Eventually, I got up, and decided to give MD a proper thanks and goodbye, if only to give myself some closure. I sent him a very long message, saying how much I enjoyed working with him, how great a job we had done, how much fun I’d had, how great a team we were, and how much I’d miss it, and him specifically. He replied later that night, saying he agreed, and he didn’t know how to express how much he admired and appreciated me, commenting on my musicianship, commitment and enthusiasm. But it still felt weirdly formal. The one thing which kept a spark of hope for me was the last line - he said that we should make sure to keep in touch, beyond the screening and rehearsal team reunion dinner - he said we both liked coffee and talking about music so we should do that too. I still don’t quite know what to make of that. He clearly still wants to stay friends, at least, beyond the friendships formed with the other people on the team, which is something.

But he was about to leave to stay with his family, and then on a holiday abroad for a week, so I didn’t expect to see him for almost 3 weeks - a big shift from seeing each other almost every day previously. I was prepared to shut myself down again. Back at class with other people from the show, we all reminisced about how great it was, all processing together. When my friend asked ‘There wasn’t anything between you and MD, was there?’, I replied, ‘I don’t think so...’, and he said ‘...Just ‘cause you spent a lot of time together’. I think I was honest at the moment. There was what I was hoping, but also what I feared I was projecting. I’ve always been wrong about this sort of stuff in the past, so it’s safer for me to always assume there’s nothing there. But I couldn’t help but hold onto a tiny shred of hope. There was a photo of us as the MD team uploaded to Facebook, and it got more likes than any of the other photos of MD with other people, and it felt as though it validated who MD and I were with each other - someone commented ‘#dreamteam’. And that we certainly were. We always have that. And we’ll aways have those memories. Even if nothing more comes of it.

But.

But. On Friday, the last day before the holidays, MD put up a post saying that he was in the library for people to collect band shirts, if they were around. He had returned from his few days at home, and was in town just for the day before heading off on his holiday. Now, I happened to be on placement 5 minutes walk from the library, and it was on the way to my bus stop. We finished before lunch, and I found myself walking to the library. I needed an excuse to go in - then suddenly I remembered, of course, I need holiday reading! That’s something I had not done for a while because of musical - just reading books for fun. So I decided to grab some books, and it also gave me an excuse to go into the library. I gathered the courage (after 15 minutes of arguing with myself) to ask if he was still there, and he replied and said which floor he was on. So, I went and found him, and asked him if he wanted to come for lunch. I was weirdly nervous, and fumbled my words a bit, but he was gracious enough to let me recover my pride and explain my excuse for why I was in the library. Once we were outside, he asked where I wanted to go, and I realised I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he was quick to suggest a place, and I let him take it from there.

And the funny thing is, we were so chill. After the first couple minutes, I relaxed. Conversation flowed easily between us, and he spoke openly to me again. He spoke about the work he was doing, about his relaxing time back home, and about what he wanted to do musically in the future. We did indeed have that music chat. (Now all we need is coffee...). And we barely even spoke about the musical. It did inevitably come up, but I think both of us were still a bit raw. But it was a relief that we still had stuff to talk about even when we weren’t talking about the musical. We spent about 45 minutes together, and it was relaxed. It settled my heart again. We felt open with each other again, which was what I was most worried about - in the past, people have cut me off suddenly. I was worried that once we didn’t have musical in common, our friendship/whatever this is would dissolve. But now, it looks like it won’t have to. I guess we’ll see, and that lunch replenished my hope. I could feel the undercurrent of caring had returned - we are two people who’ve gone through a lot together and built something great, and that’s a bond that’s not easily broken, wherever this thing goes. And I could feel that had returned. Perhaps it was the time he had spent at home, or perhaps he had made a decision about where he wants us to go, but whatever it is, we felt more settled. The sadness in his eyes had gone.

So, when we parted for a final time before the holiday week, it was with a sense of hope and new beginnings. We wished each other a good break, and knew we would see each other in 2 weeks. It didn’t have the sense of finality and loss of our last departure. It was more ‘til we meet again. There was a moment when we looked at each other before parting, unsure whether to hug, but then he stepped closer and went for it. Seems like we’re huggers now. Which I’m fine with. I hug like I mean it.

And then we parted.

And he looked back over his shoulder as he was walking away. He smiled at me, and I waved at him. It’s funny how the smallest of things keep the candle of hope burning.

I’ll see if he follows through on that coffee.

I hope he does.

#personal #musical #MD #love #friends #relationships #hope

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liberifatalis · 7 years ago

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Hello!! Could I have some headcanon for the chocobros finding their s/o playing piano?

Hello! You sure can ♥

I didn’t know if you wanted to get headcanons of them walking in on their S/O playing the piano without prior knowledge that they played it, or if they knew already. So instead I did a mix of both + general headcanons of how they’d be with a S/O who plays the piano. Also, sorry that it took so long to get this up. Thank you for sending in a request nonnie!

SFW under the cut

NOCTIS

He was pretty surprised to find you playing the piano. He knew you were a musician, as you brought it up in some of your conversations together, but you’ve never played in front of him before.

The Prince is very impressed. You play the piano beautifully, and music seems to come to you naturally.

He recognises the piece you’re playing, too, since he also plays the piano and a bunch of other instruments—he was taught from a very young age, because apparently being musically gifted is important to royalty.

He’s just leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom with a slight smile, watching you play. You didn’t even realise that he came over to visit (don’t give Noctis a spare key to your house/apartment, because he WILL stop by unannounced) until he broke the silence by saying: “You’re pretty good at that, you know.”

After you recovered from almost having a heart attack since Noctis does not know the concept of giving you a heads up, or knocking, you stopped playing and got up to greet Noctis with a kiss on the cheek, and dragged him to your bed.

You know that 98% of the time he randomly drops by, it’s because he’s really sleepy and just wants to take a nap with you. Plus, it was raining heavily, and there’s was most likely going to be a storm later on, and this is “perfect nap weather” according to Noctis.

So the two of you are all snuggled up together, but Noctis notices you aren’t tired in the slightest. He actually really loved seeing you play, and he kinda wishes he didn’t interrupt so you’d just keep going. He asks you to play a well-known piece that his mother really liked (he doesn’t have any memory of his mother but Regis has told him a lot of things about her) for him.

It doesn’t take long, but you end up lulling Noctis to sleep, and it’s the cutest thing ever. You wished you had played in front of him sooner, because you absolutely love doing this. The fact that he enjoys the way you play your favourite instrument AND is calmed enough by it to eventually fall asleep? You’re in complete awe.

“There’s a really nice grand piano in the Citadel, by the way. I could, uh, take you there sometime, if you’d like. It’s in a big music room so there’ll be no neighbours complaining about you playing too loud.”

He does end up taking you to the Citadel—to the music room he talked about. You just have a regular keyboard in your bedroom at home, and even though that’s more than enough for you, playing on a grand piano (one that’s owned by royalty, too) is just a completely different experience.

You and Noctis go to that room quite often, actually. It’s one of your favourite places to be with him. You’ve also watched him play the piano, too, and he’s spectacular at it. He looks ethereal whenever his fingers touch the keys.

Noctis prefers the acoustic guitar to the piano, though (he’s been taught to play a lot of instruments). Sometimes he’ll take out a guitar and just improvise while you play on the piano, and other times you’ll both be playing together.

PROMPTO:

Sunshine boy is amazed. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, and the sounds that come out of his mouth are a mixture of complete adoration and shock.

He looks at you like he’s found a secret treasure chest, or something. As if he’s in disbelief at how talented and beautiful you are. You keep surprising him every day, honestly.

He’ll literally just sit there and watch you play for hours, and he’ll probably film it with his phone, too. He has the biggest smile on his face and he’s just enthralled with you, because he appreciates talent of every kind—but his favourite kind is more of the artistic type. Even though you play the piano as a hobby, and he partakes in photography, he sees it as something you both have in common. And he loves that you’re an artistic person like him.

Speaking of filming you while you play with his phone, he’ll also want to take photos of you with his really good camera. “Ooh, wait, keep looking like that while you’re playing! The angle and lighting is per-fect!”

Really, really, really loves it when you say a piece reminds you of him. It just means so much to him. Absolutely loves all the sentimental things in a relationship and he’ll never forget it if you tell him this. His heart almost jumps out of his chest whenever he hears you playing a piece that you’ve said is a reminder of him.

Always talks about anything piano related with you, and does a lot of researching about renowned pianists. Will find a bunch of piano pieces and make a playlist of them so you two can listen to them together; he usually listens to music that has vocals included but because of you he really appreciates this type of music now.

And of course, he has a playlist that is dedicated to you. All the piano pieces he finds that reminds him of you are added, and there are a lot.

He asks you to teach him to play sometimes, but unfortunately, he’s not musically gifted. But he doesn’t mind! He really likes how you’ll always be enthusiastic whenever you teach him, and not give him shit for being a beginner. And also, he really loves it whenever you place your hands over his while teaching him. Yeah, you’re in a relationship together, but it still gives him butterflies. Blondie loves that innocent physical contact.

GLADIO:

Not really into the classical stuff, but like most people, he appreciates talent!

“Huh, you’re pretty good with your hands. Not surprised.”

Out of the four boys, he’s the one who will make a “big deal” about this the least. It’s not because he’s unimpressed—he’s very impressed—it’s just that, like his reading, it’s something to be appreciated with a more tenuous approach (which is surprising, because it’s Gladio we’re talking about here…)

You know…him relaxing on the couch, reading a book, and you’ll either be in another room or the same one; just playing away. It creates a nice atmosphere and calms you both down.

The only time he’ll actually sit down and give you his full attention is if you ask it of him, or if you’re trying to show him something new you learnt. It’s hard not to get all fidgety under his eyes though, but don’t worry, he’s looking at you in adoration! He thinks you look absolutely stunning while playing, and loves how the corners of your mouth lift up slightly whenever you play.

He brags to other people that you’re the 21st century Mozart. He’s the #1 guy at hyping up his partner, and he’s not gonna be humble about your musical talent.

If you have just a regular keyboard and have mentioned you want something else, he’ll save up money to get a really nice piano of your liking for your birthday.

IGNIS:

He’s sort of a mix of Prompto and Gladio

He’ll take a more tenuous approach, but he’ll be more involved. He plays the piano, too, and loves to indulge in his hobby with you.

He’ll take you on a date to see the orchestra whenever he has the money saved up. Usually your dates are a quiet candlelit evening at his place, or at a nice restaurant, so going out to see an orchestra play is a special occasion and it won’t be regular.

Really likes to have you playing the piano as background music whenever he cooks dinner (which is all the time).

He’ll just sit and watch you play sometimes, with a content look on his face. The piano is the most beautiful instrument to him, and you’re the most beautiful person in the world to him—he comes to a conclusion that this is the closest place to heaven on earth.

Like Prompto, will share pieces/compositions he enjoys with you. Not only that, but he’ll like to discuss the piano with you. Just anything about it. His favourite composer, your favourite composer, favourite compositions, favourite piano makers/brands, etc.

When he watches you play, he’s mostly staring at your hands. He thinks that nice looking hands are unappreciated, and his eyes are just locked on them—he finds them mesmerising when they’re against the keys of a piano, and he can’t get enough of the elegant and regal ambience you’re emitting.

#why do i take so long to complete requests #im sorry to all of you who are waiting omg #ffxv headcanons #ffxv imagines #ffxv scenarios #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #noctis x reader #prompto x reader #gladiolus x reader #ignis x reader #mine #asks #requests

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thebuckblogimo · 4 years ago

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My Ten All-Time Favorite Albums.

July 17, 2020

I’ve previously written that one of my roommates during senior year in college was a very musically-oriented guy. Rick, the original “Buddman,” Budd was from Pittsburgh, PA. As a kid he learned how to harmonize from his Dad who was a totally-into-it barbershopper. In high school the Buddman sang in a doo wop group called the Del Renos. In college he played the Hammond B3 organ for the Paramounts, the only soul band on the Michigan State University campus during the late ‘60s. Later in life he helped form a doo wop group, Deke and the Blazers, that did some national touring. It also bears mentioning that Rick could play the piano by ear. After downing eight or ten Rolling Rocks, he would fall forward, bang the keyboard with his head, and play those 88s with his ear. Just kidding, folks. Kinda, sorta...

The Buddman recently listed his ten favorite albums of all time on Facebook. He included some interesting background and personal insights with his selections. He then suggested I do the same. I took him up on the challenge, but it turned out to be a more difficult task than I had anticipated. It was hard for me to compare music from the ‘50 and ‘60s to music recorded many years later. And it was not easy to narrow my list down to ten. Nevertheless, I finally did so. I’m not on Facebook, so I’ve listed my top ten here:

1) A Package of 16 Big Hits (Motown)--This 1963 release was Berry Gordy’s very first compilation album. I associate many of its tracks with getting my driver's license at 16 and bombing around Detroit in my Dad's new Pontiac Bonneville. I think it's so good because all of the songs were recorded before Motown began to rely on a formula that employed funk brother Jack Ashford's incessant tambourine. Almost every tune on this record sounds different from the next. For example, Marvin Gaye's "Stubborn Kind of Fella" showcases the Vandellas singing background vocals and flautist Beans Bowles playing a distinctive solo. While Mary Wells' "The One Who Really Loves You" features an arrangement that includes a hint of vibraphone, some sweet piano, a syncopated conga drum and background harmonies provided by an obscure group called the Love Tones. Another unique cut is "Come and Get These Memories" by Martha and the Vandellas. It sounds unlike any other tune the group recorded after it. The LP's original cover graphic is really cool, too--a package wrapped in kraft paper and "stamped" in postal fashion with the names of the tunes and the artists who performed them. 2) Live at the Apollo, Volume II (James Brown)--It was Rick Budd who first took me to the bridge and dropped me into the funk of James Brown, the "godfather of soul" and the "hardest working man in show business." I know that the Buddman favors Live at the Apollo, JB's first live album from 1963. But I put my money on this 1968 two-record set. When I was living at Water's Edge apartments during my senior year in college, we'd play Side 2 at Saturday night parties, get up to dance, and not sit down until it came to an end--19 minutes and 37 seconds later. The live versions of "Let Yourself Go," "There Was a Time," "I Feel All Right," and "Cold Sweat," are amazing. The set also includes renditions of such pre-funk Brown ballads as "Prisoner of Love," "Try Me" and "Please, Please, Please." The 2001 Deluxe CD Edition includes a tantalizing 23-second "My Girl" musical interlude. All I can say is "...good gawd...uhh...ooh ahh...hah..." 3) Hot Buttered Soul (Isaac Hayes)--Released during June of 1969, this four-track album put Isaac Hayes on the R&B map for Stax-Volt. When I returned to MSU for my final quarter of school in the fall of '69, Hot Buttered Soul supplanted the Beatles' Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band as my favorite pot-smoking album. It should not, in my estimation, be played in the background or listened to while idly vacuuming the living room rug. The only way to truly appreciate this masterpiece of Memphis soul is to "actively" listen to it--with the volume up, the lights low, in an altered state of mind, on the couch. Let Hayes, with his deep-baritone rap; the Bar-Kays, delivering some twangy, psychedelic guitar riffs; and the plaintive sound of violin strings, which were added to the mix in Detroit (presumably by musicians from the Detroit Symphony Orchestra), take you on a journey that starts low, aims high and hits bone-jarring crescendos on Hayes' interpretations of "Walk on By" and a 19-minute version of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix." Listening to this album can be damn-near orgasmic. 4) Chicago Transit Authority (Chicago)--Although this eponymous album was released in 1969, I did not come to truly appreciate it until a couple years later. (The group, by the way, was sued by the CTA and soon changed its name to Chicago). I practically wore out my copy--or at least Side 1 of this two-album set--at my first apartment as a single guy on Appoline in Dearborn. I love the way these Windy City guys meld jazz, rock. soul and orchestral influences to produce a sound in a category with Tower of Power, as well as Blood, Sweat & Tears. Besides lead guitar, bass and drums, you can hear the "pow" of brass and the serenity of woodwinds on this production, provided by a saxaphone, trumpet, trombone, clarinet and flute. You can also hear an array of percussion instruments such as cowbell, claves, tambourine, etc. I'd kill to have any one of the three distinctive voices possessed by Robert Lamm, Peter Cetera and Terry Kath as they take turns on lead vocals. The six-minute instrumental "Introduction" on Side 1 takes the listener on a journey that climbs hills and descends into valleys. It then transitions into the rock classic "Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is?" which, in turn, transitions into "Beginnings," yet another rock classic. The first cut on Side 2 features the underrated "Questions 67 and 68." While on Side 3 you'll find the self-indulgent "Free Form Guitar," which I hate, frankly, because it's "noise music" to my ear. There's also an excellent cover of the Spencer Davis Group's "I'm a Man." Best Chicago album of all time, in my opinion. 5) All Day Music (War)--I was in my first big-boy job at AAA when one day in 1971 I was knocked out by the title song from this album and walked over to Grinnell's music store after work to purchase it. There is no mistaking the unique sound of War as the group fuses elements of low-rider soul, rock, jazz and Latin rhythms. My main man Joe McCracken, some of the pals and I would invariably "tune up" singing "All Day Music" at "the pit," another name for my basement apartment, before heading out to Your Mustache, a raucous music room just two blocks from where I lived. I like all of the tunes on this album and want to give a shout-out to "Slippin' Into Darkness," but I can't lay enough praise on the title cut. It remains one of my all-time favorites, a true "nugget" that I never get tired of listening to. 6) The Best of The Guess Who Volume II (The Guess Who)--I'm not easily sold on groups with three guitars and a set of drums. I generally prefer rockers who add horns or a piano to the mix. It is particularly because of the skillful keyboard-playing ability of Burton Cummings, as well as his distinctive voice, that I love the work of these fellas from Winnipeg, Manitoba. In fact, before I lost my music collection in our fire of 2010, I owned more LPs by The Guess Who (probably 10) than any other group. This compilation was released in 1974. The track listing includes 11 tunes recorded between 1970 and '73, all written or co-written by Cummings, after long-time lead guitarist Randy Bachman left the group to form Bachman-Turner Overdrive, aka B.T.O. I absolutely love eight or nine of the cuts--"Albert Flasher," "Guns, Guns, Guns," "Sour Suite," "Glamour Boy" and more. But for my money this album's piece de resistance is "Runnin' Back to Saskatoon" with its building, straight-ahead momentum. M’boy Burton sings of hanging out in such Canadian prairie towns as Moose Jaw, Moosomin, Red Deer and Medicine Hat. How many times did we slam beers at the Phase 1 in Dearborn with that tune blasting on the juke box? After which we'd cruise back to my house on Rosemont in Detroit and blast it some more on the stereo. If "American Woman" is all you know about The Guess Who, make time to discover this Canadian group's north-of-the-border interpretation of rock 'n' roll. 7) Street Corner Symphony--(The Persuasions)--As I mentioned earlier, we'd tune up on "All Day Music" at my first apartment, but before we headed out the door for the "Mustache," we'd pull out this 1972 a cappella album, fire it up--along with a couple of jays--and sing some of its best tunes: a medley including "He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother" and "You've Got a Friend"; an upbeat version of the Temptations "I Could Never Love Another (After Loving You)"; "Temps Jam,” a medley of Temptations classics; a superb rendition of "So Much in Love," originally done by the Tymes; and "People Get Ready," the old Impressions chestnut. Only then would we be truly ready to hit the bar. This album sparked my initial interest in music made with nothing more than the human voice. I eventually purchased four or five Persuasions albums and several by other popular a cappella groups. An aside: One summer during the early '70s there was a lengthy beer distributors strike in Detroit. Luckily, in those days, we could easily cross the Ambassador Bridge or go through the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel to get to Ontario to purchase Canadian suds. It was a sweltering Sunday afternoon when we picked up a case of LaBatt 50 Ale in Windsor and drove to some outdoor venue to see a concert featuring The Guess Who, the Persuasions and the Sun Ra Arkestra. Talk about an eclectic lineup of artists. To this day I consider that beer to be some of the tastiest I have ever swallowed, and that concert to be one of the best I have ever seen. 8) Crystal Green (Rainbow, featuring Will Boulware)--By the mid-to-late '70s, my musical preferences had started to take a turn. From then through the early 2000s I bought mostly what I call "WDET music," less commercially popular vinyl and CDs that I heard on Detroit's world-class (at the time) public radio station, as well as lots of jazz and fusion. The 1977 release of the rareish LP, Crystal Green (not to be confused with the group's similarly titled album, Over Crystal Green), is unquestionably my all-time-favorite jazz/fusion record. After I first heard the upbeat, six-minute "I Like It" on the radio, I knew I had to have the album for my collection. After I bought it and put it on my turntable at home, the mellow groove of the very first cut, "Hossan," knocked me off my feet. In fact, I love all six cuts on this album. I regret that Rainbow, featuring pianist Will Boulware, is not available on Spotify, my go-to music source these days. 9) Meet Me in Uptown (The Mighty Blue Kings)--I recall driving down Woodward Avenue in Royal Oak on my lunch hour one day in 1996, listening to WDET on my car's radio, when a raucous tune began to play. It immediately hit me. Bam! Right upside the head. I'd never heard anything quite like it before. When the deejay finally identified the hall-party sound from the set he had just played, it turned out to be "Jumpin' at the Green Mill" by the Mighty Blue Kings, a "jump blues" band out of Chicago. The seven-piece group with horns, piano and a stand-up bass features the "ballsy" baritone of Ross Bon. This unpretentiously produced CD was ahead of its time, recorded before Brian Setzer resuscitated swing music in the late '90s. "Jumpin' at the Green Mill" remains my favorite cut. Of the 13 selections on this album, here are the ones I'm partial to: "Loose Lips," "Cadillac Boogie," Big Mamou," "Meet Me in Uptown," "Rag Mop" and "Pink Cadillac." Kudos to WDET for opening my ears to this and other diverse types of music such as bluegrass, ska, world, Cajun, zydeco, Tex-Mex and sophisticated forms of hip-hop. 10) The Teenagers Featuring Frankie Lymon--I'm old enough, and bought records early enough, to be able to say that I purchased three 78 rpm discs in 1956 at the Two By Four Record Shop in Dearborn: "I Want You to Be My Girl" by Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers; "Stranded in the Jungle" by the Cadets; and "Priscilla" by Eddie Cooley and the Dimples. But it was the summer of that year when my Auntie Julie surprised a then-nine-year-old "little Lenny" with his first 331/3 rpm "long play" album. This platter on the dark red GEE label sparked my lifelong love affair with doo wop (although I don't recall the music being called that in those days). Young Frankie's 13-year-old soprano had a far sweeter sound than Michael Jackson's shrill voice at the same age. And the Teenagers 17-year-old Sherman Garnes edges out Melvin Franklin of the Temptations as my all-time-favorite bass singer. I almost slipped the 1998 release of Trampoline by the Mavericks, featuring the catchy and energetic "Dance the Night Away," with the soaring tenor of lead singer Raul Malo, into the number 10 slot here. However, I couldn't turn my back on the kid group that is at the foundation of every musical emotion I have ever felt.

The end.

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rocknutsvibe · 8 years ago

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2016: On The Cusp Of A Rock Awakening

OK, so we lost a lot of great musicians in 2016, and world events were unsettling to say the least. But all things considered, it was a pretty good year for music, with some older artists hitting late-inning home runs and some newer acts seemingly approaching greatness. I really get the sense that Rock is in an exciting period of transition, with so many artists both young and old willing to take risks in the search for new sounds and new approaches. I honestly believe that we are on the cusp of a new Rock awakening. Here are my selections for Top 10 Albums of 2016.

10. The Claypool Lennon Delirium – Monolith Of Phobos

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People sometimes forget that Sean Lennon inherited artistic genes from his mother too, one of the most famous avant-garde musicians who ever lived. With this in mind his musical partnership with mad genius Les Claypool seems like such a perfect fit. This album won’t be everyone’s cup of tea — it’s way out there sometimes — but to me it felt fresh and wild and unique. Lennon and Claypool seem to bring out the very best in each other’s oddly twisted personalities, flavoring their distinctly original take on classic proggy sounds with wit and whimsy. Claypool’s jaw-dropping virtuosity on the bass was no surprise, but Lennon’s lambent talents on guitar and vocals certainly were, and I really hope these guys keep making music together.

9. Rolling Stones – Blue And Lonesome

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This is like one of those albums that NASA would put into a Voyager satellite to introduce extraterrestrial civilizations to human culture, except in this case it landed back on Earth in 2016. The album captures — for a new generation on this planet — the electrifying intensity of those early-sixties blues and R&B recordings, recorded live and hot and off the floor. But this ain’t the 1964 Stones cheekily imitating the old bluesmen, this is a band with the chops and the savvy to actually be the old bluesmen. Sometimes Jagger sounds like an old man and sometimes he sounds like he’s 25, but either way he and his mates are as authentic as it gets, and god knows there’s a hunger for authenticity out there.

8. case / lang / veirs – case / lang / veirs

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Take three fiercely independent singer-songwriters who don’t know each other very well, put them in a room and tell them to write songs together, and you’ve got a prescription not only for bruised egos but quite possibly broken bones as well. Unless of course the singer-songwriters are women, in which case you’ve got a much better chance of co-operation and a successful collaboration. k.d. lang admired the work of Neko Case and Laura Veirs and suggested the three get together and create some new songs, not as a three-point harmony trio but more like a real band where each member’s individual strengths are given a chance to shine. The end result is one of the finest collections of songs released this year, where even the production and arrangements are well-conceived and beautifully implemented. See what a little co-operation can accomplish?

7. Bon Iver – 22, A Million

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Up to this point Bon Iver was widely considered a balladeer, a singer-songwriter of deeply personal, atmospheric songs who used electronica mostly as a way to process his distinctive falsetto vocals. Folk electronica, if you will. But on this, his third album, Bon Iver takes folk electronica to new horizons with beats and kinetic energy, a huge and I think welcome departure from his drony balladeer thing. The album contains some beautiful acoustic guitar, piano and horns, but it also includes tracks like “10 (Deathbreast)” which has him spitting out spoken lyrics over a driving cascade of electronic beats, sounding more like Kanye West than a folk artist. In fact, West had sought out Bon Iver’s recording expertise for one of the rapper’s earlier albums, so I guess what goes around comes around. Rock happens when different musical genres come together, and this album sounds like something new being born.

6. The Last Shadow Puppets – Everything You’ve Come To Expect

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Alex Turner has talent, charisma, and a willingness to take artistic chances, a great combination for any musician. As swaggering front man for the Arctic Monkeys, Turner gained fame for his wickedly clever power pop, but as a partner in The Last Shadow Puppets he takes that wicked cleverness on a completely different tack. The Rock elements are still there, but the defining sound on this album is a standout orchestra section arranged by the brilliant Canadian violinist and producer Owen Pallett. It gives the album a very Euro feel as the band pays discreet homage to the various pop styles that make use of strings – ‘50s doo-wop, ‘60s soul, ‘70s disco, ‘80s spy movies – as well as some really original arrangements that can easily stand on their own. I don’t understand why this album wasn’t a huge hit.

5. The Tragically Hip – Man Machine Poem

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With this album The Hip completes their transformation from literate, edgy roadhouse Rockers to literate, mature Rock gurus, comfortable in their wisdom yet searching for truth more rigorously than ever. After 30 years together the Hip keeps growing as a band, boldly adding new textures and instrumentation and themes and emotions to their kit bag, while at the same time keeping their kick-ass edge as sharp as it ever was. If, as seems likely, this is to be the band’s last album due to Gord Downie’s serious health issues, then by god what a way to go, and what an inspiring lesson in personal and artistic growth for the rest of us.

4. Warpaint – Heads Up

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There are some pretty sophisticated Rock sensibilities at work here on the L.A. quartet’s third album. Originally an atmospheric/chill type outfit, Warpaint displays a subtle but still striking versatility on this album, skillfully and seamlessly weaving analog and electronic instrumentation together as well as anybody has ever done it. One minute bassist Jenny Lee Lindberg and drummer Stella Mozgawa are laying down big fat beats, the next minute guitarist Theresa Wayman is serving up soaring or spiky licks over an electronic bed. Emily Kokal’s plaintive lead vocals may not be the strongest, but the band’s three-point harmonies are outstanding and lay at the heart of Warpaint’s sonic signature. This is definitely a band to watch.

3. Iggy Pop – Post Pop Depression

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So the story goes that Iggy Pop finally had enough of the rat race and wanted to drop out after recording one last album. Ever the showman, Iggy decides that if he’s going out, he’s going out in style, so he turns to Josh Homme for help. How could this not be a recipe for a great album? These are two Rock giants coming together. Homme, one of a handful of artists destined to carry the torch for Rock & Roll deep into the new century, brought his unique gifts of edgy songcraft together with Iggy’s brutally frank street truths, sprinkled it with a little anti-materialist populism, and helped create a bold and original statement, not just for Iggy, but I really think for the ages. Homme deserves a co-credit on the album, but he’s too generous a soul to want it. Meanwhile Iggy keeps dreaming “about getting away to a new life / where there’s not so much fucking knowledge”, and I have to admit that does sound appealing.

2. Esperanza Spalding – Emily’s D+Evolution

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I’ve always subscribed to the theory that the greatest artists are the ones that push the envelope so far until they discover new territory. Well Esperanza Spalding is one brilliant artist and with this album she has found musical ground where nobody has stood before, and that is saying something. Sure, the lithe vocals, explosive bass lines and complicated jazz time signatures are all still there, but this time around she brings thundering and soaring guitars into the mix, making the album sound at times more like prog than jazz. Think Joni Mitchell meets Frank Zappa and Shuggie Otis, or maybe St. Vincent with the angular corners rounded out. On top of all this, Emily’s D+Evolution is a concept album where Spalding’s alter ego wrestles wordily with powerful thoughts on love, gender, race and class in the 21st Century. This is a dense, rich album that delivers increasing rewards with every listen.

1. David Bowie – Blackstar

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There will never be another album like this one, just as sure as there will never be another David Bowie. It’s an album about Bowie’s life and about his death, and it is loaded with riches. I was never all that big on droning medieval melodies, but I now love the five minutes of it on the title track because “at the center of it all” lies the shimmering beauty of the middle section. Kudos to my colleague Jordan for pointing out the “whore” of the raucous second track is quite likely Bowie’s cancer. “Lazarus” still makes me weep sometimes because I can’t get the haunting video out of my head, but it has sure given me some insights into death that were never quite available to me before. “Sue” is cinema verite in modern jazz wrapping, while “Dollar Days” and “I Can’t Give Everything Away” are as beautiful as anything Bowie has ever made. How long will it be before this album starts showing up on greatest of all-time lists?

Honorable Mentions

Paul Simon – Stranger To Stranger Wilco – Schmilco Charles Bradley – Changes Michael Kiwanuka – Love & Hate Andrew Bird – Are You Serious Leonard Cohen – You Want It Darker Car Seat Headrest – Teens Of Denial Anderson Paak – Malibu

Photo- Esperanza Spalding; credit: By JBreeschoten (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://ift.tt/HKkdTz)], via Wikimedia Commons

from Rocknuts http://ift.tt/2hP4HcQ via IFTTT

#Rocknuts #rock #music

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star-nova · 5 years ago

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The Lives of the RiffRaff: Pietro Frost-The 4th of July

Previous chapters here.

On the morning of the 4th of July, I wake up to a barbecue grill that gleams like a prize on The Price is Right. Our patio set, which has been with us for all seven of our summers in Tanager, is set out in a formation that's almost unnaturally neat and orderly, its tabletops shining in the sun. After breakfast that morning, I head out to the pool to wash out the filters, though I quickly find out that there's only the smallest hint of gunk and I don't have to do too much. Florence gives me a kiss and says she's going out to pick up Sophia.

The other day, while I was out at an orchestra rehearsal, Florence had brought Sophia Bolshevik around for dinner and a chat. I'm not sure what they talked about, and when I asked, Florence said only that they had talked woman-to-woman and that Sophia would be reciting a piece at our 4th of July party. She didn't give up any details, and I didn't ask. But whatever happened, I suppose Sophia felt the need to repay Flo's kindnesses. Without being asked, she's become our unofficial maid.

Even in a house as big as this, Flo and I are used to doing everything ourselves. We don't believe in getting others to do our own work for us. Our own work, after all, was how we ended up here in the first place. But yesterday afternoon, after Sophia came around to work on her recitation, she insisted on cleaning up the lunch dishes and helping me clean out the pool for our party. “Oh, you don't have to do that, hon,” I told her when she picked up the pool scraper and started to work on the algae.

“I know,” she said, “but I want to.”

By the end of the day, the pool was completely blue and the tops of the patio tables were shimmering. Inside, the floors were spotless, there was not a speck of dust in sight, and the windows in the sunroom were so clear that a bird might crash into them. Florence and I were struck dumb, and I suppose our silence frightened the girl into thinking she'd done something wrong. Looking at her tennis bracelet instead of at us, she said, “I guess I'd better go.” She was about to say “I'm sorry,” but Florence interrupted: “Don't you want to stay for dinner, Sophia?”

Sophia didn't know what to say to that, so I said, “Sweetie, you've cleaned up the dining room better than Florence and I ever have! Stick around and admire your handiwork, why don't you?”

Sophia smiled. “I'll help with the meal, if you want me to.”

I patted her shoulder. “You've done more than enough. This is your home, not your job.”

Honestly, I'm not entirely comfortable with it. Sophia's our guest, not our maid. We never had maids and we never will. But she insists, and even though she does insist, I feel as though we're using her.

I pull Florence aside for a moment while she and Sophia work on appetizer trays in the kitchen. “I'll finish up the blintzes, Florence,” Sophia assures her, and Florence gives her a thumbs up. Once we're both in the living room she asks, “What is it, babe?”

“Flo,” I say, “don't let her do any more work for us, all right?”

Florence sighs. “I can try, Pietro,” she tells me, “but it doesn't seem as though the girl will take no for an answer.”

“It isn't right,” I say. “She isn't here to serve and she shouldn't think she is.”

“Nobody is making her, Pietro,” Florence reminds me. “It's all her.”

“I know,” I say, “but it's still not right.”

I linger in the doorway when Florence returns to the kitchen and gently squeezes Sophia's working hand. “Sweetheart,” she says, “I'll take it from here, all right? You've been an amazing help. I really appreciate it.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Sophia asks, without looking at her.

“Absolutely not,” Florence assures her. “You've done a better job than I or my husband ever have. Go on and watch TV, read some books, work on your song...you can even play on the piano if you want. You won't hurt it.”

“Are...are you sure, Florence?”

“Positive,” Florence says. “Pietro can take you home if you want, too.”

“No, no,” Sophia says quickly. “I'll stay.” Still without looking up, she walks away, brushing past me and setting herself down on the living room couch. She looks sort of like a child that's been sent to the naughty corner.

“Working on your recitation?” I ask, just to let her know it's okay to have a conversation.

She doesn't answer me.

“Wanna give me a preview?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“You aren't in trouble, you know,” I tell her. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

She doesn't say anything. She may not have done anything wrong, but in her own mind she's being punished. Suddenly, I get it. Whatever had happened to her in the city had taken away any feelings of worth that she had, and being useful to us was a way for her to reclaim that worth. She didn't understand that she didn't have to work for us in order to be worth something.

I decide that the rest of the pre-party work can wait. I have a seat at the piano and begin to play, just for her. It's only classical pieces without words, because Florence is the one who can sing, not me. By the end of the private concert, Sophia regards me with a sweet little smile, her gesture of appreciation.

That afternoon, our house is packed with every RiffRaff in town, barring a few exceptions. There's no Talia or Arthur, because Florence and I won't have Talia and Arthur in our house. Consequently, there's no James, since James hates everybody except for Arthur. We lost Joanne Tushud just three months ago, and my eyes send silent sympathies to her husband and daughter, Kane and Mara. The two of them regard me with quiet understanding and gratitude.

The rest of the RiffRaff are accounted for, in the pool or on the deck chairs or running around the yard like maniacs. Most of the guys—including myself—are shirtless, while the ladies sport colorful sundresses and beach attire. Rickie's brought his guitar, and Anthony's setting up his fancy 3D chess set on the only empty table. Gilbert arrives with the showpiece of the night, the huge collection of fireworks that he and Zatch have the usual honor of setting off once dusk hits. There's a buffet table's worth of donated food, from homemade fare to buckets of KFC. It's going to be another good 4th.

Sophia's friends and sister go over to her and give her big hugs. Elsie says, “I miss you so much,” and I feel bad. Sophia's been spending more time with us than with anyone. She doesn't doesn't feel safe anywhere else anymore.

“You don't have to miss me, Elsie,” Sophia says. “I haven't gone anywhere.”

Elsie's eyes say, Yes you have.

“Can I get you a drink,” Sophia asks, “or an appetizer?”

Ellia chuckles. “You're the butler now?”

Florence and I exchange a look and I sigh. She isn't the butler, but nothing is going to stop her from playing the role. She takes her position at the drink counter as the indentured bartender, and the nag inside my head says, not right, not right. She should be laughing and chatting with those girls, not pouring their drinks. She should be jumping in the pool with Tracy, Vergil, Kali, and Leon. She should be preparing her recitation. Is she going to spend the entire party serving and cleaning? I want to say something to her, but what do I have any right to say? She's actually smiling, and it seems as though she hasn't done that in a long, long time.

Florence says, “Maybe we should hire her. She needs a job, right?”

I know she's only joking, but still I say, “No, no, dear. That's where I must draw the line!”

My wife, the chronic helper, doesn't always understand that things often resolve themselves when you don't go getting involved.

After some time spent serving and cleaning up after the others, Sophia finally decides to let herself have fun. She joins her sister, Ellia, Charmain, and Anna in a game of backyard mini-golf. Florence and I exchange smiles. We don't have to worry about her anymore. Relieved, I settle down for a game of Spades with Anthony and Vincenzo while the burgers and hotdogs sizzle on the grill.

After I've taken my final book and passed the dreaded Queen to Vince, Anthony looks at me in the cocky, scrutinizing way that drives me absolutely mad about Anthony Andrews. “So,” he says, “you got a new maid now?”

Oh, Jesus Christ. “Sophia's not our maid,” I tell him. “She's just been helping us out a little bit. She's not obligated to, it's all on her.”

“I think you should hire her,” Anthony says. “She does good work.”

“We still don't believe in hiring maids,” I say. While he's distracted, I take his book away from him.

“Sophia's a good girl,” Anthony says. “Very sweet, very quiet. She won't cause you any shit.”

“I know that,” I say. I think I may have overbid.

“She's been round here a lot, hasn't she?” Anthony asks. “You like having her around?”

“You're a real nosy bastard, Anthony,” I tell him. “But yes, Florence and I do enjoy her company.” I put down a three of diamonds.

“If you've been looking for help around the house...”

“We haven't been,” I say, putting down the six of clubs.

“My daughter Melinda...” Anthony begins, taking a book.

“We're fine, Tony,” I tell him. Two of spades.

Vincenzo asks, “What happened to Sophia, anyway? Do you know?”

“She hasn't told us anything,” I say. The game is over and I've won again, with just a slight penalty for overbidding.

“I hear Talia Santiago did something to her,” Vincenzo says. That man has some kind of nerve! Talia may not be the greatest person, but she's still RiffRaff, and you don't spread shit about fellow RiffRaff. The Others did more than enough of that without us helping them along.

“Vince,” I say, raising my voice just a little, “don't talk about things you know nothing about.” I've got to flip the burgers and turn the franks. When I get up, I catch sight of Sophia by the pool. While her friends swim, dive, and play, she sits with her feet hanging over the edge and her arms wrapped around herself. She doesn't even have her bathing suit on. The nastiest suspicion makes its way into my head. No, I assure myself quickly, no, it couldn't be.

Elsie nudges her. “C'mon, Soph. Get in there.”

Sophia looks at her and shakes her head. Their eyes exchange secrets that only sisters are meant to know. Elsie sits down beside her then and pulls her into her arms. The secrets are safe within those arms and behind the tee and shorts the girl wears like a suit of armor. But the horrible, horrible suspicions and speculations remain.

Dear god. That poor, poor girl...

Florence goes over to Sophia and asks if she'll help set out the burgers and franks.

“Of course,” Sophia says, immediately brightening when given a job to do.

“There's a tray on the kitchen table to put the food out on,” Florence says. “Can you run in there and fetch it for me, please?”

“Will do.” Sophia gives her a little smile, turns to the others, and says, “Be right back, ladies.” I never knew Sophia very well outside of our holiday get-togethers, but something tells me that in this moment we are seeing the old Sophia, the true Sophia. She slips into her sandals and heads for the kitchen with a considerable bounce in her step. I decide right then and there that I'll let her serve all she wants for the rest of the night. She can clear away the dishes. She can serve the food and pour drink after drink after drink. She can sweep up the patio and clean up the wayward trash that makes its way onto the lawn. If it means that she will smile and be Sophia again, she can go ahead and be the maid.

Her sister and her friends keep on gawking long after she's disappeared into the kitchen. “How did you do it?” Anna asks breathlessly, looking at me as if I might be a wizard.

I shrug modestly. “Good company and a place to belong,” I say. “Sometimes, that's all anyone really needs. You know, she's going to be reciting something tonight.”

Elsie's eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Sophia? Reciting? In front of all these people?” She might have been less shocked if I said her sister was joining the circus. I just nod. “It's going to be a song, apparently. I don't know what it is. Florence does.”

“Sophia's going to sing?” Now it was Ellia's turn for her eyes to bug out. I nod again. Would wonders never cease?

There's a crash, a scream, and the world ignites. Florence makes for the kitchen so fast that I'm sure she could break the sound barrier. Elsie and the girls go flying out of the pool and rush after her in their dripping bathing suits. The others—Franz and Emery, Anthony and Vince, Clara and Kammie, and just about everyone else—go pouring into the house on the heels of what must surely be some horrible catastrophe. When the shock leaves me, I follow them. She's dropped something and hurt herself. Something's fallen on her. She's fallen. There's going to be blood, maybe a broken bone...every worst case scenario I can think of plays itself in my head all at once, so that when I find the girl down on her knees with no blood and no visible wounds, I'm actually relieved.

Lying in fragments at her knees are the remains of our Italian ceramic dining tray. It was a wedding present from Florence's parents, who received it as a wedding present from their own parents back in Italy. When I asked Florence where her grandparents got it from, she said they probably bought it at a curio shop in Venice.

It was my damned fault. I had laid it out on the kitchen table in order to move it aside and I'd never put it back. I should have told Sophia which tray Florence meant. She should have told Sophia which one she meant, and what it looked like. The two of us share the fault in equal parts. The old Corningware tray remains unharmed on the kitchen table.

Immediately, Florence inspects Sophia for any cuts and abrasions. Upon finding none, she sighs with relief and holds Sophia by her shoulders. “It's okay, sweetheart,” she says, raising her voice just a little to be heard over the girl's raucous sobs. “It's okay. You're all right!” Through all of the blubbering, I'm only able to catch a few words, mainly “sorry,” “my fault,” and “ruined.” When she calms down just a little bit, she calls herself a “fucking worthless wreck.” My heart just about breaks in two. Florence give me a look and I see tears beginning to form in her eyes. I have to look away before I start crying too.

Kneeling beside her sister, Elsie says, “Sophia, it was just an accident. They know that. They know you didn't mean it.” She's starting to cry, and it's about so much more than just a broken dish. She looks to me and to Florence, waiting for us to do something. Around us, the other RiffRaff have only comforting things to say, except for that bastard Anthony, who only remarks on how expensive the dish must have been. The tension in the air tells me that they all, too, are waiting for one of us to act.

So I kneel down on the kitchen floor among the shattered ceramic. I say, “Sophia, look at me, please.” She looks, her blue eyes so full of guilt and fear and something else. “A broken dish,” I say, “is just a broken dish. But a broken Sophia, well, that would be the real catastrophe, my dear. Fancy old things are assigned their value, but you, Sophia, are priceless.”

“Of course,” Elsie says. The other RiffRaff voice their agreement.

“I...I should go h-home,” Sophia stammers.

“Without your recitation?” Florence looks genuinely hurt. “No, Sophia, you have to stay and let us hear you sing.” The others chime in with their agreement. Most of them never even knew that Sophia could sing. Gingerly, I pick up one of the fragments of the dish—one with a big yellow rose that used to belong to an entire painted garden—and press it into Sophia's hand. From Flo's grandparents, to her parents, to Flo, and now to Sophia.

“Yes,” I tell her. “We all want to hear you sing.”

That night, we all hear Sophia sing.

While Gilbert and Zatch light up the sky with their greatest show yet, Sophia sings “Song of the Century,” an acapella song by Green Day. Even against the explosions and in front of so many pairs of eyes, her soft, pretty voice doesn't stumble even once. She sounds like a bell.

“Tell us a story that's by candlelight

Waging a war and losing the fight...”

Elsie has a tear in her eye, which gives way to more and more as her sister sings the second verse. The short little song is over almost as soon as it starts, but to all of us—to me especially—it felt like it took the whole night with it.

“Tell me a story into that good night

Sing us a song for me.”

It takes a few seconds for the audience to take everything in: the song, the meaning, Sophia's voice, and the events of the summer all leading up to fireworks and this song. Then, all at once, they're louder than any of the explosions in the sky.

“That's my girl!” Elsie hollers. “That's my sis!” She never could have been any more proud to say those words. Florence and I never could have ever been more proud to call Sophia Bolshevik our new dear friend. And there's Sophia herself, who never could have ever been more proud to just be Sophia.

Nobody is going to forget this 4th of July.

#Fiction by Me #The Lives of the RiffRaff #writing #work in progress

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the-record-briefs · 6 years ago

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Feb. 13, 2019: In other news

MerleFest adds to schedule

MerleFest, presented by Window World, is proud to announce new artist additions for MerleFest 2019: Amos Lee, The Milk Carton Kids, Steep Canyon Rangers, The Del McCoury Band, The Casey Kristofferson Band, and David Holt. The annual homecoming of musicians and music fans returns to the campus of Wilkes Community College in Wilkesboro, North Carolina, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, April 25-28. MerleFest is pleased to welcome these six distinguished acts to the 2019 lineup:

Amos Lee: Singer-songwriter Amos Lee’s creative take on folk and soul style continues to evolve. Over the course of more than a dozen years and six studio albums, Lee has continued to develop and challenge himself as a musician and now producer. Amos Lee will make his MerleFest debut on Friday evening.

The Milk Carton Kids: It seems cliché to compare two guys singing harmonies in suits to Simon & Garfunkel, but for the pair that make up The Milk Carton Kids, there aren’t many other acts who come close to the harmonizing in their songs. Since 2012, The Milk Carton Kids have been making award-winning folk music (American Music Association’s Duo/Group of the year 2014, GRAMMY nominations in 2013, 2015 and 2019) with just two guitars and two voices. Now the Kids are performing with a larger band and fleshing out their sound with drums, double bass, and keyboards-- the approach they take on their fifth album, All the Things That I Did and All the Things That I Didn’t Do. The change in musical tack abets a set of songs wherein Joey Ryan and Kenneth Pattengale may be at their most personally transparent.The Milk Carton Kids will make their MerleFest debut on Friday evening.

Steep Canyon Rangers:GRAMMY Award-winning Steep Canyon Rangers effortlessly walk the line between festival favorite and sophisticated string orchestra. They’re as danceable as the most progressive, party-oriented string band and equally comfortable translating their songs for accompaniment by a full symphony.

The Steep Canyon Rangers’ set at MerleFest is titled the North Carolina Songbookand is a tribute to this state’s vast musical heritage. The band says, “The influence of North Carolinians can be heard in almost every genre of popular music from Earl Scruggs to John Coltrane. Many of them worked in textile mills by day and played music with friends and family on the weekends. Some were virtuosos who packed up their influences and took the world by storm. All were, like us, a product of the music and people they grew up with in Carrboro, Jacksonville, Eden, Tryon… every corner East to West.”

Doc Watson soaked up and shared more of this state’s music and played fiddle tunes, blues, jazz, country, rock ‘n roll, and everything in between. This has been Doc’s lasting legacy for the Steep Canyon Rangers, and the band is excited to share the North Carolina Songbook for the very first time on Sunday afternoon at MerleFest.

The Del McCoury Band: Even among the pantheon of music’s finest artists, Del McCoury stands alone. From the nascent sound of bluegrass that charmed hardscrabble hillbilly honkytonks, rural schoolhouse stages, and the crowning glory of the Grand Ole Opry to the present-day culture-buzz of viral videos and digital streams, Del is the living link. On primetime and late-night television talk shows, there is Del. From headlining sold-out concerts to music festivals of all genres, including one carrying his name, there is Del.

Almost unimaginable, McCoury’s fifth decade in a half-century of bluegrass bliss brings new triumphs, new collaborations, and new music. With but a single change in membership in twenty years, The Del McCoury Band shows unprecedented stability as well as garnering the respect and admiration of the industry for its unmistakable work: nine IBMA Entertainer of the Year trophies; in 2003, Del’s membership in the cast of the legendary Grand Ole Opry; and the band’s first Best Bluegrass Album GRAMMY award in ’05, followed by a second win in 2014.

On their latest release, Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass-- a title that echoes his 1968 debut on Arhoolie Records, Del McCoury Sings Bluegrass-- Del and the boys bring home another stellar collection of traditional bluegrass music. With 14 songs brimming with hot licks, classic songcraft, even some boundary-stretching electric guitar, and once again, Del’s matchless vocal delivery, The Del McCoury Band moves up the gold bar standard of bluegrass yet another notch. Del and the boys will celebrate his 80th birthday at MerleFest with a special Hillside Stage set on Sunday afternoon.

The Casey Kristofferson Band: The Casey Kristofferson Band is a collection of musicians from North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee who blur the line between classic country and a more contemporary sound. The band showcases songs written by Casey Kristofferson, daughter of the legendary Kris Kristofferson, and Andy Buckner (NBC's "The Voice," Season 9) in collaboration with a variety of other talented songwriters.

From foot-stomping rockers to soul-wrenching ballads of love and loss, the songs are reminiscent of the original outlaws she has shared the stage with since childhood. Kristofferson and Buckner trade back and forth seamlessly between lead and harmony vocals while the band adds layered harmonies and blistering instrumental work.

With an all-star cast, CKB consists of Kristofferson on vocals, Buckner on acoustic guitar and vocals, Muddy Welles on banjo and lead guitar, Jim Aaron on harmonica, Zack Page on electric and upright bass, and Nashville’s own Herschel Van Dyke holding down the rhythm. Weaving a story from the nightmares of love and longing through the rise of personal redemption, this band brings a live show not to be missed. The Casey Kristofferson Band will make their MerleFest debut on Friday afternoon.

David Holt: David Holt is a four-time GRAMMY Award winning musician, storyteller, radio, and television host. For more than 45 years, the talented multi-instrumentalist has collected and performed the songs and stories of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He learned this treasure trove of music directly from musical greats, including Doc Watson, Roy Acuff and Etta Baker.

From 1998-2012 Holt toured and performed with the legendary Doc Watson. He says, “Doc was truly a great man. Performing and touring with him was a highlight of my career.” In 2002, the duo won two GRAMMY Awards for their classic Legacy, a three-CD set about the inspiring life and music of Doc Watson. Holt currently tours the country performing solo, with Josh Goforth, and with his band the Lightning Bolts. In 2016, Holt was inducted into the North Carolina Music Hall of Fame. David Holt will perform Saturday afternoon at MerleFest.

MerleFest is pleased to partner with Come Hear NC, a promotional campaign of the North Carolina Department of Natural & Cultural Resources and the North Carolina Arts Council, to celebrate 2019 as “The Year of Music,” a designation Gov. Roy Cooper announced in November of last year. MerleFest, honoring its locale, has programmed over 35 artists who currently call North Carolina home, each artist representing a different aspect of the state’s great musical history. Come Hear NC was designed to celebrate North Carolinians’ groundbreaking contributions to many of America’s most important musical genres — blues, bluegrass, jazz, gospel, funk, rock and everything in-between. It’s fitting then, with 2019 as “The Year of Music,” that the Steep Canyon Rangers, also proud North Carolinians, would debut theirNorth Carolina Songbook set at MerleFest.

The six artists announced today join the 80+ artists previously released.Headliners include The Avett Brothers, Brandi Carlile, Amos Lee, Wynonna & the Big Noise, Dailey & Vincent, Tyler Childers, Keb’ Mo’, Sam Bush, The Earls of Leicester, Peter Rowan and The Free Mexican Air Force. The Late Night Jam presented by The Bluegrass Situation will be hosted by Chatham County Line. In addition to the above-mentioned artists, the following will be performing at MerleFest ‘19:

American Aquarium, Andy May, Ana Egge & The Sentimentals, Ashley Heath and Her Heathens, AZTEC SUN, Banknotes, Bob Hill, Cane Mill Road, Carol Rifkin, Carolina Blue, Catfish Keith, Charles Welch, David LaMotte, Dirk Powell Band, Donna the Buffalo, Driftwood, Elephant Sessions, Elizabeth Cook, Ellis Dyson & The Shambles, Gordie MacKeeman & His Rhythm Boys, Happy Traum, Irish Mythen, Jack Lawrence, Jeff Little Trio, Jess Morgan, Jim Avett, Jim Lauderdale, Joe Smothers, Jontavious Willis and Andrew Alli, Josh Goforth, Junior Brown, Junior Sisk, Larry Stephenson Band, Laura Boosinger, Lindi Ortega, Mark Bumgarner, Mark & Maggie O’Connor, Maybe April, Michaela Anne, Mile Twelve, Mitch Greenhill and String Madness, Molly Tuttle, Nixon, Blevins, & Gage, Pete & Joan Wernick and FLEXIGRASS, Presley Barker, Professor Whizzpop!, Radney Foster, Roy Book Binder, Salt & Light, Scythian, Sean McConnell, Shane Hennessy, Si Kahn & The Looping Brothers, Steve Poltz, T. Michael Coleman, The Black Lillies, The Brother Brothers, The Gibson Brothers, The Harris Brothers, The InterACTive Theatre of Jeff, The Kruger Brothers, The Local Boys, The Trailblazers, The Waybacks, Todd Albright, Tom Feldmann, Tony Williamson, Uncle Joe and The Shady Rest, Valerie Smith & Liberty Pike, Wayne Henderson, Webb Wilder, and Yarn. The lineup and performance schedule are accessible viaMerleFest.org/lineup.

Tickets for this year’s festival, as well as the Late Night Jam presented by The Bluegrass Situation, may be purchased at www.MerleFest.org or by calling 1-800-343-7857. MerleFest offers a three-tiered pricing structure and encourages fans to take advantage of the extended early bird discount. Early Bird Tier 1 tickets may be purchased until February 17, 2019 and Early Bird Tier 2 tickets will be available February 18 to April 24. Remaining tickets will be sold at the gate during the festival.

About MerleFest

MerleFest was founded in 1988 in memory of the son of the late American music legend Doc Watson, renowned guitarist Eddy Merle Watson. MerleFest is a celebration of "traditional plus" music, a unique mix of traditional, roots-oriented sounds of the Appalachian region, including old-time, classic country, bluegrass, folk and gospel and blues, and expanded to include Americana, classic rock and many other styles. The festival hosts a diverse mix of artists on its 13 stages during the course of the four-day event. MerleFest has become the primary fundraiser for the WCC Foundation, funding scholarships, capital projects and other educational needs.

About Window World

Window World®, headquartered in North Wilkesboro, N.C., is America’s largest replacement window and exterior remodeling company, with more than 200 locally owned offices nationwide. Founded in 1995, the company sells and installs windows, siding, doors and other exterior products, with over 15 million windows sold to date. Window World is an ENERGY STAR® partner and its windows, vinyl siding and Therma-Tru doors have all earned the Good Housekeeping Seal. Through its charitable foundation, Window World Cares®, the Window World family provides funding for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital®, which honored the foundation with its Organizational Support Award in 2017. Since its inception in 2008, the foundation has raised over $8 million for St. Jude. Window World also supports the Veterans Airlift Command, a nonprofit organization that facilitates free air transportation to wounded veterans and their families. Window World has flown over 100 missions and surpassed $1 million in flights and in-kind donations since it began its partnership with the VAC in 2008. For more information, visitwww.WindowWorld.com or call 1-800 NEXTWINDOW. For home improvement and energy efficiency tips, décor ideas and more, follow Window World on Facebookand Twitter.

About the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources

The N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources (NCDNCR) is the state agency with a vision to be the leader in using the state's natural and cultural resources to build the social, cultural, educational and economic future of North Carolina. NCDNCR's mission is to improve the quality of life in our state by creating opportunities to experience excellence in the arts, history, libraries and nature in North Carolina by stimulating learning, inspiring creativity, preserving the state's history, conserving the state's natural heritage, encouraging recreation and cultural tourism, and promoting economic development.

NCDNCR includes 27 historic sites, seven history museums, two art museums, two science museums, three aquariums and Jennette's Pier, 39 state parks and recreation areas, the N.C. Zoo, the nation's first state-supported Symphony Orchestra, the State Library, the State Archives, the N.C. Arts Council, State Preservation Office and the Office of State Archaeology, along with the Division of Land and Water Stewardship. For more information, please call (919) 807-7300 or visit www.ncdcr.gov.

About the North Carolina Arts Council

The North Carolina Arts Council builds on our state’s long-standing love of the arts, leading the way to a more vibrant future. The Arts Council is an economic catalyst, fueling a thriving nonprofit creative sector that generates $2.12 billion in annual direct economic activity. The Arts Council also sustains diverse arts expression and traditions while investing in innovative approaches to art-making. The North Carolina Arts Council has proven to be a champion for youth by cultivating tomorrow’s creative citizens through arts education. http://www.NCArts.org

For more information, visit www.MerleFest.org.

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cynthiajayusa · 6 years ago

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What’s Hot Central Florida: July 2018

Saturday, June 30

America’s beloved sibling entertainers, Donny & Marie, will bring their equally beloved show to the Dr. Phillips Center for the performing Arts at 8pm. They will mix the spirit of their early television specials and recordings with a nostalgic look back on their storied career in a dynamic stage show showcasing fan favorites including “A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock ‘n Roll,” “Paper Roses,” “Puppy Love” and “It Takes Two.” Check out the irresistible chemistry that made them international stars. Tickets start at: $55.

Southern Nights Tampa presents their 3 year Anniversary extravaganza hosted by Eureka O’hara from RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 10! They will also feature a Drag Show at 12:30am with Roxxxy Andrews, Jade Embers and Kitana Gemini. 18 and over welcome! Parliament House is celebrating America’s birthday with an American Idol: Ada Vox, live in concert. To Purchase VIP photo opp tickets go to: ParliamentHouse.com.

Monday, July 2

An Orlando legend turns 50, as the Parliament House presents Lisa Lane’s Golden Birthday celebration at 8pm. The night will feature performances by Shantell D’Marco, Chavela Belleza, Lineysha Sparx, Elishaly D’Witshes, Michelle Du Soleil, GizzelleFierze, Chachita Gift, Angelica Sanchez, Nouba Soleil, and Darcel Stevens. This is a free show and the invite the entire community to come out and celebrate Lisa’s 50th!

Thursday, July 5

The Straz Center for the Performing Arts presents Cinderella from today through July 8th. Rodgers + Hammerstein’s CINDERELLA is the Tony Award-winning Broadway musical from the creators of The Sound of Music and South Pacific that’s returning to delight Tampa audiences with its contemporary take on the classic tale. This lush production features an incredible orchestra, jaw-dropping transformations and all the moments you love – the pumpkin, the glass slipper, the masked ball and more – plus some surprising new twists! Be transported back to your childhood as you rediscover some of Rodgers + Hammerstein’s most beloved songs, including “In My Own little Corner,” “Impossible/It’s Possible” and “Ten Minutes Ago,” in this hilarious and romantic Broadway experience for anyone who’s ever has a wish, a dream … or a really great pair of shoes. Tickets start at $38.

Friday July 6

Southern Nights Orlando presents, direct from Bravo’s Real Housewives of New Jersey, Teresa Giudice as the hostess of their Flex Fridays. If you can’t make it tonight, head onto Southern Nights Tampa as Teresa will be the hostess of their Savage Saturdays tomorrow Saturday, July 7. 18+ welcome on both nights.

Stonewall Orlando presents Boot & Beards where they invite you to dust off your boots, brush out your beards and put on your patriotic underwear! The master of ceremonies with be their favorite bearded diva Bearonce with guest star Scarlette Diamond, and music by DJ Jay Skinner downstairs and DJ J B Burgos in the Sky Bar! No cover before 10 pm!

Speaking of Southern Nights Tampa, tonight they present NeiBEARhood Takeover celebrating International Kissing Day with DJ Throboy from Las Vegas, and sponsored by Gobearr Gear. They will feature a 1am Kissing Contest. This is a 21 and over event!

Sunday, July 8

Chris Pittman presents superstar DJ Hector Fonseca at Royal Tea Sundays at Eve (110 Orange Avenue). Doors open at 8pm and there e is no cover.

Dr. Phillips Center presents Erasure World Be Gone Tourat 8pm. Erasure (Andy Bell and Vince Clarke) announced a collaboration with Brussels-based Echo Collective that sees the entirety of Erasure’s latest album, World Be Gone, given a post-classical rework. This new collaboration gives fresh dimension to the tracks. World Beyond was recorded over 10 days by Andy and seven performers from Echo Collective: Margaret Hermant (violin, harp), Neil Leiter (viola), Thomas Engelen (cello), Jaroslaw Mroz (double bass), Gary De Cart (piano) and Antoine Dandoy (vibraphone, glockenspiel). Tickets start at: $34.50.

Wednesday, July 11

The Amway center presents Sam Smith in his The Thrill Of It All tour tonight at 8pm, with tickets ranging from $37-$122. The concert will also be playing at Tampa’s AMALIE Arena on Friday, July 13 at 8pm with tickets ranging from $26-$122. “Too Good At Goodbyes,” the album’s first single, is a global smash, hitting No. 1 on the U.K. and Global Spotify Charts and topping the U.K. and U.S. iTunes charts. It has captured the top spot on the U.K.’s Official Singles Chart Top 100 for three consecutive weeks, marking Smith’s sixth No. 1 single there. In the U.S., “Too Good At Goodbyes,” debuted at No. 1 on Billboard’s Digital Song Sales chart. Worldwide Spotify streams of the single already exceed 100 million.

Friday, July 13

The National Showgirl, Showgirl at Large and Showman pageants move their home bas this year to Hamburger Mary’s Daytona and the National Pageantry starts tonight honoring last years winners: Alexis Mateo, Crystal Belle, and Aries M. Kelly. Tonight and tomorrow will be prelim nights for all three divisions. On Sunday, July 15 is Final night for Showman and on Monday, July 16 is final night for Showgirl and Showgirl at Large. The categories include: Interview (with a platform to work and represent throughout the year), Showgirl/Showman Presentation (this is the highest scored category); Glitz Formal wear for the boys and Gown for the girls, and Talent. Admission is $20 per night, but only $60 for all four nights. For more information, go to NationalShowgielpageant.com.

Friday, July 20

The Orlando Improv presents, a true king of comedy, D.L. Hughley from today until July 22 in his Unapologetic Tour, based on his own one-hour special for HBO entitled Unapologetic. The special, D.L.’s fourth for the network (the others were in 1992, 1994 and 1999), premiered in September and is currently available on DVD. In its review, the Hollywood Reporter says the likable Hughley is the real deal, a guy who comes with his A-material and nails every line with smarts and savvy….connecting with the audience from the first minute through the last. Tickets are $35.

The Club Orlando presents “NTA: No Towels Allowed Party,” where no towels or clothes will be allowed to be worn in the building (except in the Gym and TV Lounge) from 10pm to 2am. For more information Club-Orlando.com.

Saturday, July 21

Neema’s upscale Latin Night: Amor at Stonewall Orlando presents Shakira tickets giveaway. The midnight drag show stars Miss Glamorous 2018: Amanda D’Rhod, Gadfrie Arbulu and Jenavive K. Mateo. Doors open at 9pm and there is no cover before 10pm and $10 thereafter. 21 and over!

Hamburger Mary’s Brandon presents “Paint Nite,” which features everything you need to create a one-of-a-kind painting. They will guide you and your friends through two lively hours of creativity, drinking, and laughing ‘til your cheeks hurt. What’s the best part? You don’t have to be an artist to have an amazing time. Food and drinks are not included, but are available for purchase from the venue. No outside food or drinks allowed. This Paint Nite Event is 21+!

Wednesday, July 25

Amalie Arena presents Grammy Award-winning, acclaimed alternative rock pioneers The Smashing Pumpkins in their Shiny And Oh So Bright Tour a7 pm, their first tour in nearly 20 years to feature founding members Billy Corgan, Jimmy Chamberlin, and James Iha. The monumental Shiny And Oh So Bright Tour, which coincides with the 30th anniversary of the band’s formation, will highlight music from the group’s inception through 2000, and will exclusively feature material from their groundbreaking debut Gish through Siamese Dream, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, Adore, and Machina. Longtime Smashing Pumpkins guitarist Jeff Schroeder will also take part, as the band moves to a three-guitar lineup to better emulate the signature tones and textures of their albums. Tickets range from $29 – $125.

Thursday, July 26

Amway Center presents Rod Stewart with Cyndi Lauper as his special tour guest at 7:30pm. Tickets start at $57.

The Tampa Improv presents Luenell, who is a force of nature from tonight through July 29. This talented comedienne, actress and singer, was born in Tollette, Arkansas, a town whose population barely registers with the U.S. census. She is best known for her breakthrough role as the “hooker with the heart of gold” in the blockbuster comedy Borat. Luenell is recognized by both mainstream AND urban sectors of the population. Luenell had appearances in three #1 feature films; Think like A Man, the 3D animated hit Hotel Transylvania and Taken 2. Must be 21 & up to enter; except on Friday’s at 10:30pm which is 18 & up. Tickets are $20 Saturday, July 28

Dr. Phillips Center presents Darci Lynne and Friends Live with special guest Pelican 212 at 7pm. Darci Lynne Farmer is a 13-year-old ventriloquist, singer and season 12 winner of America’s Got Talent. She first appeared on the show as a shy 12-year-old who used ventriloquism to overcome her stage fright, stunning the crowd with a surprising singing act. Darci Lynne captured hearts then—and continues to amaze now. The Oklahoma native is bringing her jaw-dropping voice, hilarious puppets and vibrant personality to Orlando for one night only with tickets starting at $30, with VIP tickets (Meet and greet) $100.

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/06/28/whats-hot-central-florida-july-2018/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2018/06/whats-hot-central-florida-july-2018.html

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hotspotsmagazine · 6 years ago

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What’s Hot Central Florida: July 2018

Saturday, June 30

Monday, July 2

Thursday, July 5

Friday July 6

Sunday, July 8

Chris Pittman presents superstar DJ Hector Fonseca at Royal Tea Sundays at Eve (110 Orange Avenue). Doors open at 8pm and there e is no cover.

Wednesday, July 11

Friday, July 13

Friday, July 20

Saturday, July 21

Wednesday, July 25

Thursday, July 26

Amway Center presents Rod Stewart with Cyndi Lauper as his special tour guest at 7:30pm. Tickets start at $57.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/06/28/whats-hot-central-florida-july-2018/

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songbird-musing · 5 years ago

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Virtuoso: Chapter Two - Recitative

Enjolras is Saint-Michel Academy's brightest young composer. He runs the orchestra, the Musician's Rights board, chairs the scholarship program, teaches free classical music to children, and is in the middle of his dissertation. He has never been anything less than a prodigy, until his teacher forces him to write a pop song.

Enter the effortlessly cool Grantaire, with his smudged eyeliner and lovely guitar-playing fingers. He really digs Enjolras' "vibe," whatever that means.

Enjolras tries to tackle his pop-song-nightmare, and enlists the help of Grantaire.

Chapter One

Recitative

The world exploded around Enjolras as he awoke. Combeferre was in the kitchen, coffees in hand grinning widely beside the ‘Morning Gong.’

“Why do I let you keep that godforsaken gong?” Enjolras complained, the imprint of computer keys ridged in his cheeks. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen counter with the machine a stand-in, whirring pillow.

“Morning, sunshine!” Combeferre said brightly, and Enjolras cursed himself for ending up with morning people for roommates. “Any sign of Courf?”

“Negative,” Enjolras yawned, “I think he went to an after-party last night, he could literally be anywhere. He might not even be in Paris.”

“He’s probably not even still in France,” Combeferre laughed, placing a mug beside Enjolras. “I will never understand how he can still party like a first year... When did you get back?”

“About one,” Enjolras stretched out and brought his computer to life, tapping impatiently on the mouse pad, “I was working on the pop nightmare until about five, though.”

“Ah, I had almost forgotten about your pop dilemma... How my day has been brightened!” Combeferre beamed, coiling himself around his mug. “I’m heading off soon, so if you’re ready in twenty minutes we can walk together...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Enjolras said, still not fully awoken. He yawned widely, noticing that it was already ten past eight and hurried to shower away the scents of the previous night.

It was an overcast day, grey skies neatly connecting to the grey Parisian pavement. Combeferre and Enjolras walked side by side, an impressive array of instruments strapped to them.

“Okay, but how about...” Combeferre interjected, swerving the topic of their heated morning debate, “How about you could either write an utterly commercial pop song that goes immensely successful, and your name is forever linked, so, like, everyone in the world will be like ‘Oh Enjolras? That guy who wrote that pop song?’” he put on a silly voice, crossing his eyes underneath his glasses, “Or you write a crazily successful classical piece that changes the world of classical music forever but nobody ever knows who wrote it and it goes down as a musical mystery forever. Which would you rather have?”

“Can I not just tell everyone I wrote it?” Enjolras asked, scrolling through his phone and nearly colliding with a lamppost.

“Uh... No,” Combeferre confirmed, “You tragically die and nobody knows who you were.”

“Wait... am I dead in both situations?”

“No.” Combeferre pondered, “Actually, scratch that, you’re not dead, you just can’t tell anyone you wrote it.”

“Well obviously the classical one,” Enjolras said flatly.

“Authenticity over fame... I could have guessed,” Combeferre said, not bothering to conceal a yawn. They were just going through the motions. Often they filled the space of morning silence with pointless conversations to wake their brains. “Okay so the situation is the same but with the pop one you also do loads of classical as well, but when all of your millions of fans come to your concert they just want to hear your top hit.”

“I’ll take that, then. An audience of millions is better than none, besides I’m sure I could change their mind.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh,” Enjolras stretched out his neck and they fell into silence. Enjolras’ mind drifted to the pop song he had been working on. The piece sounded spiky – filled with diminished and augmented chords – in short, it sounded nothing like a pop song.

Pop music, to Enjolras, was foreign – but not cross-the-border-to-Germany foreign, it was more of a outside-of-our-known-galaxy foreign. He had hurried past shop fronts that blared warbling voices and fuzzy synths, as if the sound was shameful. His parents raised him on a strict diet of music composed before the 1900’s. Even his more rebellious high school friends viewed pop music warily – that was private schooling for you. Now, at Paris’ highest esteemed classical university – pop was an insult.

“I hate pop music,” Enjolras grumbled, heaving an almighty sigh. “It’s inane.”

“That’s the point,” Combeferre poked.

They bid their farewells at the gates of Saint-Michel’s and headed to their separate classes.

Enjolras weaved through the crowds, dodging instrument cases, almost receiving a trumpet to the forehead. He stopped. The throng of people behind him huffed and split around him, as he hopped back down the stairs and turned to the smoker’s area. In his first year he had held an enormous campaign to turn the area into a community garden.

“Instrumentalists should never smoke,” he had argued to the board, “It’s counterproductive to breath support. If you’re training the next generation of musicians – they shouldn’t be given the resources to destroy their lungs.”

His fury had been met with blank stares, and Enjolras had avoided the area out of principle. In the morning glow, the pavestones glistened, the ivy was burnished gold. It still looked like the perfect place for a community garden. Enjolras had to force himself to stop mentally planting sunflowers.

Tucked in the corner, Enjolras found whom he was searching for... he also found Courfeyrac.

Grantaire and Courfeyrac were sat on the wall, chatting too animatedly for nine in the morning. Grantaire, dressed in dark green, blended into the ivy, looked as though he had been stolen from the middle of a woodland nymph painting. He turned, catching Enjolras’ eye, and beamed – Enjolras wondered what Grantaire saw as he stood there.

“Enj!” Courf said, reaching out a hand.

“Please don’t touch me, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days.” Enjolras commented, a grin playing on his face, “Courf, our flat is literally ten minutes away, just grab some spare clothes!”

“No, you’re right, it is so gross. I am definitely coming back tonight, though. I just couldn’t give up on the chance to go to an after-party... Especially not a Patron-Minette one, those guys are absolutely mental. Montparnasse tried to get off with me, but I think I offended him when I said he reminded me of Arthur.”

“Why? The young Arthur was a dreamboat,” Enjolras said.

There was a very long pause.

“What?” Courfeyrac spluttered.

“Arthur Rubinstein was really hot in his youth,” Enjolras eyed Courf with suspicion.

“On what planet was I talking about Arthur Rubinstein? What is he? A pianist?”

“Yeah...” Enjolras squinted, “Which Arthur are you talking about?”

“The aardvark thing.”

Enjolras looked blank and Grantaire started to sing the theme tune. Enjolras could only blink in response.

“I’m so confused,” Enjolras said, “Montparnasse looks nothing like an aardvark.”

“Yeah... I coulda been hallucinating pretty badly,” Courf said and hopped to his feet, “Are you coming, Enj? Fantine won’t like it if you’re late...” he tried to put on an intimidating voice, but by third year lateness seemed wholly inconsequential to everyone, even the professors.

“I’ll be there in a second; I just wanted to have a quick chat with Grantaire about the pop thing.”

Courfeyrac cackled in response. “Good luck,” he kissed both Enjolras and Grantaire on the cheek, and wandered inside the building, scuffing his cigarette out beneath his shoe.

Grantaire squinted against the sun. “How’d you enjoy Patron-Minette?”

“I liked them a lot more than I thought I would,” Enjolras said without thinking, he turned red. “I didn’t mean that I... It’s just, pop isn’t really my thing.”

“Éponine doesn’t like the word pop. It’s psychedelic, contemplative, indie, punky folk, darling.”

“Well, then I guess I am a fan of psychedelic, contemplative, indie, whatever else it is,” Enjolras said lightly, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Sorry to ambush you, and feel free to say no...”

“I love a good ambush, sometimes,” Grantaire laughed, “What’s wrong?”

Enjolras sighed. “Well, Prouvaire said you were doing this pop project, and my teacher is forcing me to write a pop song, and I have absolutely no idea what to do, and it’s all a bit of a disaster, and I was wondering if you wanted to collaborate?” Enjolras blurted, taking an embarrassingly large gasp for breath at the end of his ramble.

“Yeah, sure, sounds cool.” Grantaire scribbled a number on the back of a receipt and held it out, “Here’s my number, text me when’s best for you... Or you could Facebook me, I’m sure there aren’t many ‘Grantaires’ on there, it won’t be too hard to find me.”

“Oh, brilliant! Thank you!” Grantaire seemed like he would have needed more convincing than that. Enjolras pocketed the receipt.

“Do you have a setup at your flat?”

“Um,” Enjolras faltered, “I have a couple of leads and a microphone... And about three-quarters of an orchestra.”

“Huh,” Grantaire shielded his eyes from the sun to look at Enjolras, “Not really helpful for pop... you can come to mine, I have everything there for the Patron-Minette recording and stuff. I’ll text you my address when you text me.” He tilted his head and laughed wolfishly, “I can’t imagine you at the flat... It will be interesting.” He grinned, “Let me know,” and sauntered away before Enjolras could say another word.

Performance class called for Enjolras to sit at the front. His arms cradled around the cool wooden curves of his cello. He bowed his head, pulled his bow taut, and felt his fingers fall into a familiar position, strings indenting his callused fingers. The whole classroom inhaled together, and Enjolras felt electric. His eyes fell shut, and instinct tugged at his muscles, creating the smooth, elegant dance around the instrument. The song was a duet between his body and the cellos. It was as intimate and in tune as a lovers waltz. Moments like this, lost in lines of manuscript and drowning in notes, that time ceased to exist. Enjolras felt like he did not exhale until the piece resolved, its final cadence dousing the room. The sweet, warm oasis of music cascaded as the class applauded.

Enjolras breathed raggedly against the neck of his cello, daring a smile at his classmates.

Fantine stood, roses in her cheeks. “Simply delightful!” she beamed, “Will you perform the piece at the concert next Friday? I know you’re incredibly busy, but we’re missing a cello solo...”

Enjolras pencilled it into his diary, trying to ignore the vaguely frustrated glances from the rest of the class.

Courfeyrac’s flute solo went down well, and he flushed with pride. Enjolras grinned at him genuinely, wondering how he had managed to compose such a lovely piece when he hadn’t even had time to return home.

“I feel like you need an accompanist,” Fantine said brightly, “It’s very sweet, but I think it needs a bit more depth... Do you know Combeferre?”

Enjolras and Courfeyrac shared a grin.

“You could say that, Fantine...”

“Ask him to accompany you. He’s very good at that.” She clapped her hands together without waiting for an answer, “Marius, what do you have for us today?”

~*~

Once Enjolras had sent the text to Grantaire, his fingers couldn’t stay still. They traced over the table in triplet rhythms, danced over invisible keys, tensed as the pulse of music within him swelled.

A message returned in minutes and Enjolras dragged his eyes from Courfeyrac’s antics to read it.

I finish at 4 today, could do something after that if you’re free –R x

He sent back an affirmative and planned to meet the almost-stranger outside the school gates later that afternoon.

Combeferre was astutely trying not to laugh, cheeks molten with joy, as Jehan and Courf tested their ranges.

“My whistle pitch is literally the best. I’m probably the best in the school,” Courf said, emitting a high-pitched scream. “Maybe the world.”

“That is so not whistle pitch,” Jehan said, snorting loudly.

“Yeah it is,” Courfeyrac shrieked again and the table of four collapsed into all encompassing laughter. Through delight-tinted eyes, Enjolras remembered again how much he adored his friends.

~*~

“Hey,” Grantaire said, stamping out a cigarette under his boot heel. He noticed Enjolras’ lingering gaze on the smouldering stub and said, “Nasty habit, I know. Especially when you’re a singer,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“You sing?” Enjolras said, carefully arranging his face into a passive, non-judgemental mask. To Courfeyrac and Jehan he often lamented the early loss of their vocal ability and breath control that promised to swoop in with every cigarette and joint they smoked.

“I do,” Grantaire said with a grin, “I also play guitar, bass, keyboard, a little bit of drums and whatever else I can get my hands on.”

“Sounds...” Enjolras floundered, “Pretty pop-based.” He grimaced. Compliments had never been a strong point of his.

“That’s why I’m the man for your job, right?” He smiled, looking like he had been rendered on a canvas, all wilderness and Dionysian thrill. “What do you play? Harp?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Enjolras enquired.

“Am I wrong?” Grantaire directed them down the stairs to the Metro station.

“No.”

“You’re such a harpist... everything about you screams it. How many times have you been forced to wear angel wings, a halo and a toga at weddings?”

Enjolras shuddered. “Way too many times,” he said with a hiccup of a laugh.

“That’s what I want at my wedding.” Grantaire said, hopping down the escalators carelessly, “Apollo the harpist, golden everything, even gold suits, the priest dressed as a cherub...” He dashed onto the train and held the beeping door open for Enjolras.

“Really?”

“No,” Grantaire grinned, “Couldn’t imagine anything worse... Sorry!” He careened into Enjolras as the train started and apologised again, pointing out the short route to his place on the map.

“I do not know what it will be like in here, so beware, in advance,” Grantaire said ominously, turning the key in his lock and giving Enjolras a warning stare. “Hello?” he called, cracking open the door by an inch. Silence poured around them. “They must be out. Welcome to Chez Patron-Minette.”

“You live with the band?”

“I’m supposed to just live with Ép and Montparnasse, but yes, I basically live with them all,” he paused and flicked the lights on, looking around disdainfully, “The other three unofficially moved in without really consulting me.”

“How awful!”

“Nah, it’s fine. I have the biggest room, anyway.” Grantaire smiled, a sheen of politeness glazing his eyes, “Drink?”

“Um, I’ll have water, please,” Enjolras said, trailing one hand on the kitchen counter.

Grantaire looked up from the fridge, a spark of mischief playing in his eyes. “We’re living the rock star life tonight,” he said, “Cheers to that!”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if he was being made fun of.

“Sorry it’s a mess, I didn’t realise this was happening, of course.” Grantaire chucked a few items of clothing around and surreptitiously shoved an armful of cans into his bin. “Afterparty...” he said as a way of explanation. “So...my friend...” he grinned into his cup of water, “I am fully at your service, what can I do for you?” he did a silly bow, dark hair bouncing around his shoulders.

“Valjean is making me write a pop song and I have no idea what to do,”

“Harps don’t usually translate well to pop, no.”

“I can play other instruments, as well,” he was quick to confirm, as if Grantaire would care in the slightest about his pedigree of musicianship, “But only classically.”

“Have you made a start with anything?” Grantaire asked, flexing his fingers around the neck of his guitar.

“I...” Enjolras grimaced, “I have... But... it’s not... well, listen for yourself.”

He plucked his phone from his pocket, searching for the audio file. It took two chords for Grantaire’s forehead to crease. It took just three more before his lips pursed, a laugh ill-hidden behind them.

“I know!” Enjolras protested, hastily muting the piece. “It’s terrible!”

“It isn’t terrible...” Grantaire rubbed the bridge of his nose and coughed, “It’s just not pop... like, at all...” A laugh bubbled out from his hand. “Sorry! It’s a lovely piece... but did you modulate twice in one bar?”

Enjolras looked sheepish. “Sort of.”

Grantaire laughed, throwing a palm to his forehead. “Oh, bless you. This is going to be harder than I thought. Let’s start again, and let’s start simple,” Grantaire said, his words not what Enjolras wanted to hear. “So we’ll do a four chord song, okay?”

Enjolras paled.

Enjolras hunched over the keyboard, fingers splayed on smaller keys than he was used to, Grantaire nimbly tuned up his guitar, strumming once when he was finished and letting the discord rattle around them.

Inner pianist screaming, Enjolras stilled and offered, “Does it have to be four chords? I mean we could add some embellishments, a modulation here and there, and still have it be pop, right?”

“Nope, pop thrives on simplicity...”

“But there are exceptions...”

“Yes, and they are known for being exceptions. You wanted straight up pop, so we’re using four chords,” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“But...”

“I could make us do a three chord song, if you wanted?” Grantaire laughed as Enjolras drooped, “Come on, Enjolras, let me lead you to the wild side.”

The pair looped four chords over and over, Grantaire humming a melody over the top. Enjolras’ eyes glazed over.

“What do you want to sing about?” Grantaire asked.

“I don’t sing,” Enjolras snapped out of his stupor, much closer to Grantaire than he thought he had been.

“Well what do you want me to sing about, then?” Grantaire slid his palm against his guitar and pulled open a scruffy notebook.

Enjolras pondered, still playing the chords in auto-pilot, the simplest thing he had played since he was five. “The disparity of classical music,” he said, turning to Grantaire with fire in his eyes.

“Woah,” Grantaire said, recoiling a little, “Not really a great subject for a pop song.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pushed back from the keyboard, “That’s why this whole assignment is a waste of time. You can’t talk about what you want to talk about, unless all you want to talk about is sex and alcohol.”

“Two very delightful subject matters,” Grantaire responded, mischievous glint in his eyes. When he noticed Enjolras’ stony expression he backtracked. “No, it’s not just like that... Well, okay, for the most part it is, but you can write about whatever you want, really.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Okay, a pop song about the disparity of classical music, let’s... give it a go.”

Enjolras glanced at him carefully, still unsure whether Grantaire was mocking him. The dark haired boy gave a genuine smile, almost bashful as he ducked down to watch his finger position on the guitar. Enjolras blinked. He watched Grantaire astutely, taking in the curve of his neck and the curve of his nose, the ink-spill of eyelashes across his cheeks and the length and dexterity of his slender fingers.

They played together for a while, Grantaire improvising melodies and lyrics over the top of the basic chords. Enjolras nodded seriously and scribbled down notation in his trusty manuscript paper pad. “So for the chorus we can use the same four chords but just mix the order up,” Grantaire said, strumming once across the neck of the guitar.

Enjolras sighed and spectacularly collapsed onto the keyboard, a dissonant crash echoing throughout the room.

“You alright, Enjolras?”

Enjolras merely groaned.

With a gentle clunk, Grantaire placed his guitar down and wheeled over to Enjolras on his chair.

“Enjolras,” he sung, drawing his knees to his chin. “Is it all getting too much?” Enjolras rolled his head and sent another chord ringing.

“I don’t mean to sound dramatic,” Enjolras said dramatically, “But I would literally rather be shot twenty-seven times than write a pop song.”

“Ah. Not a great state of mind to be in.” He wheeled away and spun slowly in the centre of his room, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not exactly what you had in mind, but instead of getting shot, we could get shots.” He laughed, the sound lovely and carefree and curling around Enjolras’ edges like smoke.

“I never drink alcohol when I’m composing,” Enjolras said, drawing to his full height and stretching out his limbs.

“Mozart did.”

“What?” Enjolras said after a beat.

“I’m just kidding, I have no idea what Wolfgang’s drinking habits were. I know mine, though, and there’s a lovely happy medium of being just the tiniest bit wasted and creating amazing stuff.”

“Does it still sound good the morning after?”

“Ahh!” Grantaire said in a stage-yell, “I didn’t want to hear the voice of reason tonight.” Enjolras’ lips broke into a smile, the phenomenon looking like sunshine on his face. “Okay so both getting shot and getting shots are out of the question, then. I guess we’ll just have to carry on composing.” He put a hand on Enjolras’ arm, his face edging a little closer than expected. “It gets better, I promise.”

“Stop,” Enjolras said with a groan, “I’m getting war flashbacks to bullying in high school.”

Grantaire paused. Where he had made to move back to his guitar, he turned to face Enjolras again, perplexity playing over his features.

“Bullying? You?” he gaped, “I’m aghast! Kids can find fault in Apollo reincarnate. No wonder my high school days were doomed.”

“I came out at like the age of seven, I was a pretty easy target.”

Enjolras noticed Grantaire’s eyes shift over him.

“Seven, wow! It took me ten years longer to get the courage,” Grantaire shrugged, “People were still idiots about it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, realising that he had automatically assumed ultimate straightness after hearing Grantaire’s rumoured popularity with women. The silence permeated for seconds too long and he added, “Right! Pop music!”

~*~

Enjolras kind of hated to admit it, but the song was actually going pretty well and not sounding as horrific as he had imagined it would. Sure, its harmony was brain-clawingly annoying, and the lyrics eye-rollingly inane, but it wasn’t that bad.

“Honey, I’m home!” came a loud voice from outside Grantaire’s door. “Have you seen Claque? He has stolen my tobacco, piece of - ” Éponine barged through, “Oh,” she said, catching sight of Enjolras and backing out. “Oh!” she said again and re-entered. “It’s you! Enjolras, darling! Sorry I just saw the blonde hair and thought R was trying to impress a girl with his beautiful guitar fingering.”

“That joke wasn’t funny the first time you made it,” Grantaire said, barely looking up from his guitar. He executed a perfect, intricate riff.

“Nah, it’s like a fine wine. It gets even better each time.”

“Not how wine works,” Grantaire deadpanned. “And besides, you laugh, but girls love it! They think ‘ooh wow, look how long and quick his beautiful fingers are...’ and imagine them tangled in their hair as I take on the role of their ravishing lover.”

“Well... Is it working Enjolras?” Éponine asked.

Enjolras froze a little bit. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but... he turned his gaze to Grantaire’s fingers.

“Don’t tease, Ép,” Grantaire said, a mischief oozing from his every pore.

“I just don’t feel as special now that I know it’s not just me you’ve seduced with your fingers,” Enjolras said, pushing his lower lip out.

Éponine cackled and sloped further into the room, socks padding across the hardboard flooring. “What are you boys up to this fine evening?”

“Writing pop,” Grantaire said with a flicker of his eyebrows.

Éponine’s face suddenly contorted and she looked at Enjolras in disbelief. “Huh, didn’t expect that from you, babe.”

“I’m writing his first pop song with him,” Grantaire interjected, “Popping his pop cherry, it could be said.”

“It could be said,” Éponine laughed, “But it shouldn’t be.” She looked at Enjolras with a grimace, “I’m sorry you have to work with this loser.”

“Ugh, get out,” Grantaire said quickly, humour dancing in his eyes, “Can you not see we’re in the middle of a very serious and important task.”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, echoing Grantaire’s levity, “He’s still in the middle of trying to seduce me with his fingers... It’s very important and serious.”

Both Éponine and Grantaire laughed raucously. Enjolras glowed with warmth.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Éponine stood and made to leave, she leant into Enjolras conspiratorially and mock-whispered, “Montparnasse’s hands are much nicer.”

“Lies!” Grantaire scoffed, “Begone you deceitful scoundrel!” He shot a look at Enjolras, “She really is lying, Montparnasse’s flowery fingers have nothing on mine.”

“Don’t let him hear you call them that. It’s floral, darling, not flowery. Much more trendy.” Éponine traced Grantaire’s epic eye roll and added, “Okay, okay, I’m going. See you later!”

Grantaire’s head bowed as he laughed to himself, features shadowed by his dark hair falling forwards. “I love her,” he said, fingers sprawling effortlessly over a complex guitar melody.

Enjolras tore his eyes from Grantaire’s hands, licking his suddenly very dry lips. “We could perform this live in class, if you’d like...” Enjolras said. Grantaire looked at him, eyes calculating.

“Would you want me in your class?”

“What do you mean?” A surprised giggle fell from Enjolras’ lips.

“I mean you’re a classical god and I’m sure all the teachers are in love with you. I am a mere mortal second year who’s honestly just a bit mediocre.”

“Mediocre? Are you kidding, Grantaire?”

What followed was a shift of energy that was hard to describe. The look that the two young men shared suddenly became heavier, the silence felt louder and Grantaire, usually the master of words, couldn’t form a sentence.

“Ha,” he said loudly, a hint of blush creeping across his cheekbones. “That’s how my parents liked to describe me,” he joked, stretching out languidly and dragging a hand through his hair. “Should we break? Do you want a snack or a drink or something?” Grantaire stood and threw his head back to elongate his muscles, only the way his eyes flickered shut and his lips slid apart made it look almost obscene.

“Do you have coffee?” Enjolras asked, trying to look anywhere else in the room.

“We have cheap granules, if that’s cool with you.” Grantaire laughed raucously, “It’s okay, darling, I can see from the terror in your eyes that cheap granules are not cool with you. Tea?”

“Do you have soya milk?”

“Oh you sweet boy,” Grantaire couldn’t stop laughing, “I don’t even know if I have regular milk that’s in-date. I think we have a box of green tea somewhere... Are you a green tea kinda guy?”

“Absolutely,” Enjolras said, “The extent of me being a green tea kinda guy is actually quite concerning.”

“Well I’m afraid I’m quite a bad influence, I can only feed your addiction. One green tea coming up!”

While Grantaire was out of the room, Enjolras properly looked around, eyes drifting across the debris that was scattered. A grubby looking mug held an array of drumsticks and paintbrushes, loose guitar strings were coiled in a messy pile, a precarious stack of records balanced an old gramophone. Pictures were tacked to the wall, stopping abruptly where Grantaire’s arms couldn’t reach.

Enjolras’ eyes caught a series of photographs of Grantaire and Jehan. In one picture they were meditating, the others doing intricate looking yoga poses: if joy could be captured, these pictures were evidence of it. Wide, lazy smiles and dopey shared glances were rife throughout the set.

“Here we are!” Grantaire said, carefully cupping a steaming mug. “One green tea! I’m going to go out for a smoke, want to join?”

Enjolras, took the hot tea in his hands. Grantaire cracked open the door, throwing a backwards glance at him. Enjolras felt suddenly very warm, and reckoned the cool air would do him good, second-hand smoke lung damage be damned. “Sure,” he said. Grantaire beamed, and Enjolras wondered how a word as simple as ‘sure’ could illicit such a response. He liked it. “Sure,” he repeated, and followed Grantaire into the cold.

A/N: Hollaaa chapter 2! Like I said in chapter 1, I’m transferring this from my ao3, which is almost finished here if you want to read further! Hope ya enjoy! These classical nerds fill my heart with joy! Please let me know all your thoughts!! <3

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flauntpage · 8 years ago

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The Immortal Life of John Tesh's NBA Anthem "Roundball Rock"

There's cowbell in "Roundball Rock," which I'd never noticed. You can hear it thonking along metronomically under the hyperactive arpeggiating strings and swelling synthesizers. The version I listened to is just one minute and nine seconds long, and I had come to believe that I knew every bright corner of it. This is not because I have spent much time listening to the song on purpose, because I have not. It's because I have never had to seek it out.

Whenever there was a NBA game on NBC between 1991 and 2002, some edit of "Roundball Rock" was played before the game and at the half and wherever else it would fit; in all, it was played more than 12,000 times during the 12-year period in which it was NBC's NBA theme song, which breaks down to something like 20 times per game. It became so ubiquitous during this period that it is easy to forget that "Roundball Rock" is no longer the NBA's theme song, and in fact has not been since George W. Bush's first term in office.

When the rights to broadcast NBA games transferred to ABC before the 2002-03 season, John Tesh—the leonine new age music composer and former Entertainment Tonight host who wrote the song—offered "Roundball Rock" to the network. They declined, and replaced it with a song called "Fast Break," which was composed by Non-Stop Music; the official YouTube upload of that song, from 2012, has been viewed more than 114,000 times, which is pretty impressive given how easy it is to hear it during basketball season. It is also not in the same universe as its predecessor.

There is a video of Tesh performing "Roundball Rock" in concert that was uploaded four years earlier, by Tesh's official account. The only word to describe this version of the song is "extravagant." Pacing the stage before a rapt crowd, Tesh pushes play on the first of two answering machine messages that he left for himself in July of 1990, when he was in the French city of Pau covering the Tour de France. The first message he left was "Roundball Rock"'s chorus, as Tesh told ESPN's Darren Rovell in 2002. In a second message, 30 minutes later, he scatted the verse.

In the video, Tesh is towering and lushly goateed and wears a glittering silver vest with seven buttons on it; he introduces the performance of the song by miming dribbling a basketball. A large corps of musicians, including a full string section, launch into an expansive version of the original; it features both a guitar solo, complete with Surprised At How Hot These Licks Are faces from the soloist, and some violin filigrees courtesy of a gamboling fiddler in an epaulet-adorned Napoleon-style coat. When I watched the video of this performance earlier this week, it was the 1,435,747th time someone pressed play on it.

Tesh's website mentions that he "claims that he made in the six figures from royalties each year it was used." It further mentions that Nelly sampled the song for "Heart Of A Champion," the first song on the Sweat half of Nelly's 2004 double album Sweat/Suit; because Tesh owns the song's copyright and publishing, he presumably made some money on that, too. (It does not mention that it has also been sampled by Ras Kass for a song called "NBA" or been subjected to three-and-a-half minute onslaught of NBA-related punchlines by Joe Budden.) Tesh has made the song available as a free download, and that 69-second version is the one that Tesh recorded on spec and sent to NBC executives. He paid an orchestra $15,000 to record it, sent the demo to NBC under an assumed name, and worked out a deal with the network that paid him a fee every single time the song was used. "Every five seconds—into commercials, out of commercials," Tesh told the Wall Street Journal's Jason Gay in 2011. "It definitely put one of my kids through college." Tesh told Rovell back in 2002 that he had offered the song to ABC for use on its broadcasts. "I'm also perfectly happy to sell it to the NBA if they want it," Tesh said.

None of that happened, which means that 15 years after it was last played during a NBA broadcast, the only place you can hear "Roundball Rock" is everywhere—in your head whenever you watch a NBA broadcast, echoing around the online spaces where basketball weirdos gather, in the collective memory of a generation that grew up associating the song with the experience of watching basketball on television. When I looked up the jazzy latin alternate version of the current ABC/ESPN theme, I had the strange experience of realizing that, despite having heard that rendition what now must be hundreds of times during NBA broadcasts, I had also somehow never heard it before. Every time I had heard it, something in my brain took it upon itself to remedy what it perceived as an oversight, and so simply plugged in "Roundball Rock." Tesh's song is vexingly catchy with marimba and horns, too, if you were wondering. Maybe you've heard it, too.

John Tesh sent me a link to a video and asked me not to share it. I can describe it, and so can tell you that it opens with a classic YouTube establishing shot: pallid indoor lighting, anonymous suburban paint job, a bespectacled man in a black-and-white windbreaker seated at a Yamaha piano. The man tears into the beginning of "Roundball Rock" and then gives way to another recognizable YouTube shot—wood floors, larger piano and better light, a man with a duckling's fluffy quiff—and then another keyboard, and then another. Then two bearded guys play it on electric guitars and a man in plaid shorts picks it up from there on a ukelele, and so on and on. Someone with an acoustic guitar explains how to play the song, to camera, as a graphic with the corresponding guitar appear behind him in a homemade graphic. That last one is Tesh's favorite part.

When he performs live, which Tesh still does 25 to 30 times per year at venues tending towards your larger casino-based performance spaces, he projects that video plays as a sort of introduction. "I wanted to do kind of a Storytellers thing, sort of inside the music, and I said let's bring projection with us, because we have a team of editors," he told me. "So I said 'why don't you search YouTube, just search for the song' and it turns out there's hundreds of people learning to play the song. I was ... this is crazy." At his shows, Tesh generally uses "Roundball Rock" as an encore. "When we play the song, at the end of our concerts, that's when the guys in the audience that have been dragged to a John Tesh concert by their wives or girlfriends, they're like 'holy crap, you did this?'" he said. "That's really fun for me."

If you know what Tesh looks like, it is probably either because of the decade he spent hosting Entertainment Tonight between 1986 and 1996 or because of his still-ubiquitous Live From Red Rocks PBS special, from 1995; the accompanying album, in which Tesh performs with the Denver Symphony Orchestra, went platinum several times over. His career sprawls across decades before and after that, and continues still—he presides over a rather startlingly vast multi-platform empire today, which includes a daily radio show that's on 300 stations in the United States and Canada, a weekly television show that's on 174 stations, and a podcast that he does with his wife and her adult son from a previous marriage. He is still making records and generally doing more or less what he wants. Everything except the albums comes from a studio that he built into his home. "We gave up on Los Angeles traffic," he told me. "And we got 15 hours of our lives back. We just took all that gas money and put it into building a studio."

All of which is to say that Tesh has had a fantastically successful career—a happy marriage and kids and grandkids, a successful run as a journalist and a lucrative stint as a host on Entertainment Tonight and millions of records sold as a New Age recording artist, which was always what mattered most to him. All of which is true, and all of which cannot be said without mentioning that Tesh has also spent much of his public life as a big, earnest, good-looking guy learning how to live with being a punchline. His albums have been hugely popular, but his records filed under the most readily mocked musical genre that exists; he is as recognizable as anyone in American life, but it's at least in part because he used to tell millions of Entertainment Tonight viewers that it was Dabney Coleman's birthday, whenever it was Dabney Coleman's birthday.

Tesh, at least as far as I could tell, is extremely cool with all this, and with the strange-but-habitable shape into which his fame has shaped his life. "Triumph [The Insult Comic Dog] came to my house, or my quote-unquote house, in Los Angeles, in one of those TMZ-style tour buses," Tesh told me. "And he's yelling, with a megaphone of course, out of the bus. And I peek my head out of the house and he goes, ' Teshy, Teshy, come out, come out.' And I say 'Triumph what do you want?' and he says 'I want you to stop playing that crappy music.' And then I got on the tour bus and he started humping everybody and it was very uncomfortable." The important things to know about how Tesh told this story is that his Triumph imitation was both extremely enthusiastic and pretty on-point, and that he laughed a big happy basso laugh at the end of it.

All of this is strange, but also this is Tesh's life: he has been successful and become famous in every field he ever endeavored to enter, and yet he is still someone Triumph does not hesitate to poop on. The strangest part of this supremely strange and strangely familiar Real Hollywood Story is that "Roundball Rock," which is almost certainly Tesh's most lasting contribution to the broader culture, is one that's not generally associated with him. It couldn't be any other way. Even people lucky and talented enough to get what they want in life never quite get it the way they imagine. No one ever gets in through the front door.

When Tesh came up with the founding theme for "Roundball Rock" he was spending most of his day in a van filled with synthesizers as an employee of CBS Sports. "I worked in local news for many years, in Orlando and Nashville and then in Manhattan at WCBS as a local news reporter," Tesh told me. "And then I got hired as what's called an anthology sports reporter—none of the basketball or baseball, but the downhill skiing and the figure skating and Mr. Universe. And I was assigned to the Tour de France and that's where the producer, David Michaels, who's Al Michaels' brother, he said 'let's do this MTV style.'"

What that meant, for Tesh, was more work. He would be not only writing about what happened on the Tour that day, but composing a soundtrack for the footage illustrating it; Michaels edited that footage, and then Tesh wrote and read his own narration over a musical score he composed more or less on the fly. "It was a truly collaborative process, but what happens with editing video like that—and you can see anybody like Hans Zimmer doing this, too, and doing a much better job of it—but you can't just write a song," Tesh told me. "It's odd time signatures, and it's more like colors than anything else. Deep Moog synthesizers when people are climbing up a mountain and really high-speed arpeggiators when they're descending at 60, 70 miles an hour. So what I would do, for two months before we'd even go to the Tour de France, I would write out little canvas pieces, 'I know I'm going to need this, I know I'm going to need that,' but I wouldn't set the tempos. I wouldn't commit it to anything except being in the computer. So then when I saw that, I could pull that out and adjust it so it would fit."

This was more or less the approach that Tesh took to composing a theme for the NBA on NBC. He had some ideas, which he sang into his answering machine from a hotel room in the small hours of the morning, and by now you know what those sound like. He knew, he says, because he was plugged into the broader sports media scene, that NBC was looking for a theme. He knew enough to not just record the theme but also to sync it to video. "In order for the guys at the network to buy in, you can't have them imagine it," he said. "So I edited together on VHS tape like 20 fast breaks, from the Bulls and the Lakers. And I would play the theme that I had, the rough theme, over that footage. Just to see, you know, how it worked. When I sent it to NBC, I sent them a copy of the VHS and also a copy of the mixed song, so they could see it with video. You want to remove any chance for imagination or work from people who are judging that kind of stuff. So I made sure it was the right tempo, so they didn't have to imagine it was 134 beats per minute, which is the tempo of a Michael Jordan fastbreak—I put it at that tempo. And then I re-edited the footage so it looked like it was already in the show."

Tesh also knew enough to submit the theme under an assumed name, because he already understood the gap between what he wanted to do and how he was perceived: "The guy that reads the celebrity birthdays on television isn't going to be writing our sports themes, you know? It ended up getting judged on its own merits, but definitely being a TV host stood in my way." What Tesh calls "renaissance-ing" was still anomalous in the business at that time, but also he was already figuring out how to be serious about his work even when precious few took him seriously in the way he wanted to be taken seriously.

No one has quite cracked the musicological science behind earworms, which is reassuring given how many steel-trap minds and proprietary algorithms have doubtless been loosed in pursuit of this answer. There was a CBS theme for NBA broadcasts that existed before Tesh's, and there is the Non-Stop Music theme that has now outlived his. In 2010, the classical conductor Marc Williams told ESPN's Kevin Arnovitz that he much preferred the old CBS theme to Tesh's, which he described as "'90s music with adrenaline," but ultimately "a one-trick pony."

I am not qualified to say whether Williams is right or wrong about any of this, although as I have already admitted the extent to which "Roundball Rock" has homesteaded my unconscious, I would probably have to recuse myself even if I were. Tesh told me that when he offered the song to ABC, he was told that the network wanted to go its own way, to avoid reminding viewers of NBC. "Which I actually get, you know," he said. "But it's really not like the rest of the world works. Otherwise, why would people buy songs and put them in commercials, you know? You want to use the most recognizable theme, so people hear it and are like, 'oh, basketball is on.'"

A decade and a half after it was last heard on television, "Roundball Rock" still rings out in that way for several generations of basketball fans. Whether it deserves that, or how it came to earn it, is secondary to the fact of it. In a 2013 Saturday Night Live sketch—a discrete bit of it shows up in Tesh's Storytellers reel—Jason Sudeikis and Tim Robinson play John and Dave Tesh, and perform a version of the song with lyrics that are, mostly, "ba-ba-ba-bas-ket-ball/gimme-gimme-gimme the ball/because I'm gonna dunk it!" It's a funny bit, but it's funnier when you remember that, when it aired, it had been 11 years since anyone had heard Tesh's theme during an NBA game.

And yet, because it never left, NBA fans still hear it all the time. There are no plans on the part of any of the NBA's current broadcast partners to bring it back, and Tesh is busy enough that he has not pushed for a reunion. "I don't really wake up every morning thinking about it," Tesh told me. "But what I'd really like to do is maybe at the Finals, one time, if they asked me, I would love to come, just right at midcourt, maybe with an eight-piece string section or something like that, and just play the theme right after the national anthem. That would be a fun thing for me."

Maybe you, as I did, found that very easy to imagine. Maybe you, as I did, realized that you had, in some way, already been imagining it.

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