#the orielles

[bandcampsnoop]

7/9/24.

I remember listening to The Go! Team (Brighton, England), "Thunder, Lightning, Strike" in 2004 and thinking the rules of music had changed. This was catchy yet so different. I think I heard about it through Pitchfork - I just remember reading "cheerleading" in their review.

Here we are, 20 years on, and this is what is promised to be the final reissue of "Thunder, Lightning, Strike". Monorail Music has an exclusive edition that comes with a 7" of both The Pastels and The Orielles covering "Hold Yr Terror Close". There is also a CDr of demos.

Listening to this again, I can't help but think of just how different this was (and is). And no wonder I then fell in love with "Proof of Youth". The Go! Team also made me go back and listen to Big Audio Dynamite, Win, and The Nectarine no. 9.

[manysmallhands]

FearOfMu21c #38

The Orielles - Come Down On Jupiter

Released - 21 Oct 2019

Did not chart

Spotify streams to date - 684,595

The Orielles are an act that I came to primarily as a singles band. I remember them early on when they were releasing goofy indie 45s and thinking “it’s gonna be so great when they release an album!”, and then they did and…. it just felt like a massive dilution of what they’d been doing up until then. It was basically more of the same but not as good, something which has held until their most recent LP Tableau, a genuinely strange record which stands up a lot better than its predecessors. Originally, they were a band of ideas who, at their best, never allowed that to distract from the giddy rush of pop music and, while what they’ve turned into now perhaps has more to recommend it overall, my memories of them will always come back to thrill of their early singles and to this one in particular.

Come Down On Jupiter Is the lead track from their similarly not bad but somewhat disappointing second album Disco Volador. It’s an ambitious song but one that wears its learning lightly, pulling all sorts of musical traditions together into what’s basically a fun indiepop banger. While Orielles’ contemporaries were cosplaying as Clash and Fall rip offs, Come Down On Jupiter is far more engaged with the likes of cool jazz and Factory funk. But their expansive palette is never a forced thing and so when they launch into the song’s none more indie chorus, they manage to channel the bounce and fun of those influences into something that captures all of their own youthful energy too. 

Whilst the song itself takes a fairly basic form, the journey it goes on is pretty wild. Opening with a washed out jazz shuffle, it moves through blasts of post punk energy in the second verse to finish in increasingly deranged territory, full of menacingly elastic bass riffs and ESG style whoops that reflect their particular brand of musical scavengery. Whilst everything seems to arrive out of nowhere, they still somehow feel like natural developments that weave comfortably into more than the sum of their parts. Had they managed to keep up this standard, they might well have taken this kind of playful ambition to a much wider audience. As it stands, Come Down On Jupiter is still a great record on its own terms.

[elvencantation]

[total-derangement-of-the-senses]

Song of the Day

15 Apr., ‘24

[chrissophrase]

Lorenzo and Rachel Waterman fan child (Oriel Waterman)

[linkvcr]

Heyy~ some of the sksw npc girlies for the requests mayhaps? 👀

i love skysword npcs they're always so fun to draw

[bean-market-art]

“ a worthy sort of individual. “

i know it’s femslash month but it’s also mermay so i have to have dual loyalty

[buttermilkbunny]

Made an Elden Ring oc :3 (still confused as hell about the game lore lol)

[puzzler00m]

Agamemnon fun time between other stuff

[zeke-fanfucs]

Guess who’s back? Sorry for the whole going missing for a couple of days I’ve been writing a lot so I have decided to finally post and thanks to @soup-sloth for helping me to choose how I’m going to be posting the many stories I made so just a little warning cause I’m so so nice. It’s going to be angst gutwrenching sobbing you need therapy stories and then we move onto happy sweet, comfy stories. 

He Grows

Somewhere between machine and miracle, a child is loved again.

⸻

Colt had never thought he’d hold Oriel again.

Not like this.

Not in a quiet room full of tinctures and vials and the faint scent of crushed mint.

Oriel slept now, curled up on a spare cot in Rowen’s shop, a blanket tucked around his half-withered frame. His hair had grown out, thin and matted in places. One hand clutched the edge of a candy wrapper. The mechanical beetle Colt once gave him rested on his chest, wings twitching faintly from the faint thrum of energy in Oriel’s chest.

Colt watched, unmoving, as the boy breathed—uneven, but alive.

Rowen, arms crossed, leaned against the doorframe. His expression was unreadable. But his eyes never left the child.

Then he spoke.

“He’s not like the others.”

Colt didn’t respond.

“He still has… self. Memory. Emotion. You said he died.” Rowen’s voice stayed even. But there was something beneath it—confusion. Awe. Suspicion. “The other risen? They don’t do this. They don’t cry. They don’t eat candy and ask for their dad.”

A pause.

“When I checked him… his cells are partially mechanical. But rooted. Not cold. There’s biology—real, but modified. And that… shouldn’t be possible.”

Colt slowly sat on the floor near the cot. His tail curled tightly, protective. His voice, when it came, was tired. Broken.

“It’s because he wasn’t… born. Not in the usual way.”

He rubbed his face, dragging his palm down like it might hold him together.

“Meksha and I… we couldn’t have kids. And we didn’t want a clone, or some vat-grown thing. So we… built him. But not just built. Meksha… he was brilliant. Smarter than any scientist who ever put a bolt in my spine.”

Rowen stayed silent.

Colt kept going. Quietly.

“He made a seed. A plant-based neural stem with nanotech properties. A core. We called it the Heartleaf. Organic enough to grow like a normal child. He had cells. Nerves. Blood. A mind. And a soul.”

His voice cracked.

“We raised him. He was our son. Real. Loved. Every fucking molecule of him.”

Rowen’s gaze dropped to the boy, now softly snoring.

“I was raised to believe artificial life is a mirror. Not a fire. It reflects. It doesn’t burn.”

He knelt. Looked closer. At the soft curve of Oriel’s cheek. At the uneven rise of his chest. At the tears crusted on his lashes from hours ago.

“But he’s warm,” Rowen murmured. “He’s still burning.”

Colt nodded.

Then Oriel stirred.

He blinked slowly, disoriented, that light grayish-blue gaze glassy but focused. His voice rasped:

“…Dad?”

Colt moved fast, instantly beside the bed. His hand cupped his son’s face, thumb brushing a smudge of oil-dirt from his temple.

“I’m here, bud. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oriel’s lip trembled. “When’s Papa Meksha coming back?”

Colt stilled.

Rowen looked away.

And for a moment—just a moment—Colt looked like he might shatter all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Colt whispered, voice barely holding. “I’m so, so sorry, Ori. He’s… he’s not coming back. I didn’t protect him.”

Oriel cried softly, curling into his dad’s chest, and Colt clutched him like salvation.

“I didn’t protect you either,” Colt breathed into his son’s hair. “But I swear—I swear on every life I’ve ever taken—I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Rowen stood.

His face had returned to its usual stillness, but something inside him had shifted.

“That boy cannot exist,” he said quietly. “Not legally. Not here.”

Colt lifted his head, defiant, protective.

But Rowen shook his head.

“I don’t mean he should die. I mean… he needs to become someone else. A new name. A new story. No one can know what he was. Not the undead part. Not the Heartleaf. If Springrock authorities find out… he’ll be torn apart. Dissected. Or worse.”

Colt was quiet. He pressed his lips to Oriel’s temple.

“I know.”

“You’re agreeing fast.”

“Because you’re right.”

He looked up at Rowen, eyes shining with something bitter and resolute.

“I won’t lose him again. I’d burn this whole planet down before I let anyone take him from me.”

Rowen grunted softly. “Then we’ll give him a new name. You’ll need papers. And I’ll tweak his pulse signature.”

Colt blinked. “You’re helping?”

Rowen looked away, scowling.

“I lost siblings once. Too young. Too soft. Too bright. You see that look in his eyes? That innocent kind that only kids have? Yeah. I see ghosts when I look at him.”

He turned to leave.

“But this stays between us, Colt. No one. Not even the gang. Not unless it’s life or death.”

“I swear.”

Rowen paused at the door.

“I’ll call him ‘Meeka,’ for now,” he muttered. “Short for his late father.. Meksha right?.”

Colt turned to his son—who, despite all odds, had fallen back asleep against his chest. For the first time, there was color in his cheeks.

Colt held him tighter.

Meeka.

His son.

A miracle born twice.

This time, he wouldn’t let go.

[kalolasart]

Domestic Fuegoriel

My part of an art trade with @bean-market-mafia 🔥

[alphagirl404]

I find it so crazy to think that the sole reason Hylia chose Zelda as her mortal reincarnation was not because Zelda had magic, or was part of some powerful bloodline, but because how she foresaw the lengths of how much Link loved her

Meaning if Link happened love some other girl like Karane, Orielle, Kina, or Peatrice just as much, Hylia would've probably chosen them instead of Zelda. One of them could've been the Goddess reborn as a mortal, and the starter of the Royal Family Bloodline that lasts over many centuries.

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ Joseph Oriel Eaton, Portrait of Julia Dean (1851) (detail)

via historicalbeauty

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Because it's the season of giving, and one usually sends Christmas cards before Christmas....

Happy holidays~ ❤️‍🔥

@lyranova @loosesodamarble @koneko-pi @kalolasfantasyworld @faewraithsworld @f-oighear @purpled-royalty @bean-market-mafia @funky-sea-cryptid @artificialpillow

[masond-jar]

okay. wips upon ye