#AS A VIRTUAL SINGER FAN TITLE

[catcatb0y]

Are you ACTUALLY KIDDING ME???

MIKU FAN, LUKA FAN, KAITO FAN, VITRUAL SINGER FAN, KAITO FAN-

WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU MEAN THAT DOESN'T COUNT

It fucking ends tomorrow. All the goddamned grinding for nothing. For not a single card. I couldn't get Niigo Fan Titles. I couldn't get Virtual Singer Fan Titles. I couldn't get ten friends.

Fucking hell, at least I didn't click the 'mediorce' fucking level requiring perfect scores on Level 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, and 30 Shows or I guess I would have been double screwed.

Apparently Trust Ranks and FAN TITLES DON'T FUCKING COUNT AS TITLES. GEE SEKAI, IF ONLY WE HAD SOME POSSIBLE WAY OF KNOWING WHAT COUNTS AS A TITLE.

[snowflop]

I forgot YouTube has a recap feature, yippee! I love music :)

[astrangetorpedo]

Boy Power: The Women of Boygenius on the Joys of Nourishing a Supergroup Without the Superegos

By Chris Willman

The three singer-songwriters who make up Boygenius are musing about what they did and didn’t intend to accomplish when they went into the studio to make “The Record.” The six Grammy nominations they just collectively reeled in for their first full-length album together? Not actually part of the master plan. Neither was establishing themselves as role models for a much-needed sense of community across a swath of young America.

“We didn’t set out to be like, ‘And we symbolize friendship!’” bandmate Julien Baker points out, musing about the benevolent qualities that have been attributed to the group. “We just were like, ‘Let’s make a good record.’”

Fair enough. But have we mentioned that Variety‘s Group of the Year does, in fact, symbolize friendship — to the point that the band has virtually become an iconic representation of trifold intimacy? Sharing the bond the trio developed in the studio and on the road has been a key part of the appeal for the band’s avid fan base. It’s a conclusion that band member Lucy Dacus was not avoiding when she recently told Teen Vogue that “being affectionate onstage has been really fun and sweet, and it exhibits behavior that I think is healthy and good.” They even wrote about their growing closeness in meta album tracks like “Leonard Cohen.” “True Blue,” their signature loyalty ballad, may or may not be about the group itself, it’s hard to escape the feeling that a line like “It feels good to be known so well” somehow applies not just to the trio’s interpersonal relationships but to the generally progressive, empathetic, LGBTQ-friendly, folk-rocking audience at a Boygenius show.

No wonder Boygenius seemed to consistently have the longest merch lines of 2023 (at least this side of Taylor Swift’s), with fans seeking ways to fly their colors. In what can still register as a man’s world, suddenly, it kind of felt like everybody wanted to be a boy.

A concert by the trio has its rituals. The band members describe a private rite that occurs early in a set, right after they’ve opened the show with a handful of their hardest-charging songs, like “Satanist” (another friendship song, once you get past the irreverent title) and “$20,” and are transitioning into something more reflective. “We have a little moment where we look at each other during ‘True Blue’ every show,” Dacus reveals, looking across the table at bandmate Phoebe Bridgers, “and sometimes I’ll wink at you and be like, ‘Here’s the time where we check in.’ And sometimes I feel like we can see when each of us feel crazy.”

Bridgers agrees, saying, “Or we have a weird day, and we have to look at each other and just be like, ‘Oh, my God, this day is still trudging on,’” suggesting that there are hidden cues and codes being passed around while Dacus’ soft voice is tucking an audience of thousands into a warm, communal bath.

But there’s a more public-facing ritual at the end of the show, when the members basically pile on each other in some form or another. It can look like sheer, rough horseplay, but given that everyone in the group identifies as queer, these full-body collisions also been described in reviews or fan comments as “Sapphic” moments. How would they characterize them? “It’s Sapphic horseplay!” says Bridgers, grinning, and maybe not entirely kidding. “That is exactly what it is.”

“With the horseplay,” says Dacus, taking that term and running with it, “sometimes we kiss. Sometimes we spin around. Sometimes we throw things at the audience. Sometimes we crowd-surf. Sometimes we pick up Julien or bow to her. It’s never really planned. Sometimes our tits are out.”

Bridgers remembers what felt like a signal change moment at a London show in the summer: “Someone got on her friend’s shoulders and flashed me in Gunnersbury Park. It was right after we took our shirts off the first time” at their prior show. “I was like, ‘This is so sick'” — the good kind of sick — “‘that someone feels safe enough to do this.’”

Dacus agrees. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel violent or violating in that particular circumstance. Like, if someone walked by and flashed us right now, I’d be like, Uhhhh. But, yeah, there’s something about what the show culminates in, where it does feel very safe and celebratory.”

Where we are right now is the outdoor patio of a Studio City coffeehouse, where the only things being flashed are Baker’s easing-into-autumn sweater, or slightly more provocative items like the “I Love Cuntry Music” trucker hat that Dacus has just doffed, or the Viagra Boys cap that Bridgers keeps on, maybe to deflect any possible attention that passers-by might otherwise give to her tell-tale platinum hair. The few passersby wouldn’t guess that this is a group about to play a long-sold-out headline show at the Hollywood Bowl for its 2023 tour finale, or to do “Saturday Night Live” a week and a half after that. They’re laid-back and still capable of surprising and delighting each other in conversation, and not at all giving off any America’s Greatest Current Rock Band vibes, although they’ve earned the right to some attitude, with an album that much of the indie-rock crowd and not a few critics would agree is the year’s best.

“Phoebe was the one that was like, ‘This is gonna be big,’” Dacus says. “I had aspirations; you had plans,” she says, looking at Bridgers. “You were like, ‘We’re gonna do it!’”

“We had talked about the Hollywood Bowl in the kitchen of Shangri-La, remember that?” Bridgers says, referring to the Malibu studio owned by Rick Rubin, where they cut “The Record.”

“But I didn’t have any context,” Baker says, noting that neither she nor Dacus had ever set foot in America’s most iconic venue, having grown up around Memphis and Richmond, Va., respectively, versus the Pasadena stomping grounds that’d given Bridgers lifelong access to some bigger dreams. “Our last show” — in Los Angeles, at the end of their debut 2018 tour — “we played the Wiltern, and I was tearful backstage,” Baker says, as she remembers exulting: “‘I’m so proud of us! All my dreams have come true!’ Like I’d topped out.”

The Bowl, and Madison Square Garden just before it, were milestones even for Bridgers, the most visible solo artist of the three prior to this year. She’d topped out herself locally, maybe, at the Greek. Then a funny thing happened on the way to the Cahuenga Pass: “The Record” immediately established Bridgers, Baker and Dacus as equals in every way, even in the eyes of fans who might previously have favored or just been more immersed in one solo career or another. There was magic to how evenly gifted and well matched they were as frontwomen, as songwriters, as harmonizers. They truly put the super back in “supergroup” … and took the ego out of superego, in a manner of speaking.

Strength in numbers: What a concept! Why didn’t anyone ever try it before? Well, there’ve been a few tries at bringing existing titans together over the years, and hoping they wouldn’t clash. There was Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and Asia, and the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band and … um … Well, let’s let the geniuses here come up with some slightly more contemporary analogues.

“You could look at Broken Social Scene and New Pornographers,” Baker says, but as soon as she starts dissecting the dynamics of those groups, it’s clear there aren’t really any recent antecedents that compare.

“I bet a lot of people try it, with a pretense that falls apart once they start to make it,” Dacus says, and then affirms why they’ve been able to come up with a successful joint project where others before them have bailed. “This collaboration is as important to each of us, if not more important, than our solo work,” she says. “And I bet a lot of supergroups are, even internally, thinking of it as a side project or a momentary thing.”

Bridgers agrees. “Yeah, because you’re going to make a third of what you’d earn making your own thing. So you’re like, ‘It’s my side thing — I’ll devote six months to it.’ But we put as much attention into it as if we were making our own records. The album took us so long to make, and we worked on it relentlessly. It was pretty serious from day one.”

Baker says, “It’s sick that the band has an identity that’s more than the sum of its parts.” (This maxim may be the closest Boygenius will ever come to a cliché, but they, and you, have got to embrace one that is this mathematically inescapable.)

When it came to the material they brought to the table, far from coming up with tunes that felt like discards from their solo releases, “The Record” ended up being chock-full of extremely personal and introspective songs. But it also included some of the most inherently commercial songs any of them have done, apart or together. You may recall that Bridgers had to be kind of coerced into making “Kyoto” a banger; in each other’s company, there was no such reticence.

“Definitely with ‘Not Strong Enough,’” Bridgers says, “I was like, ‘It’d be fun to have a radio song.’” (And, as it turns out, a Grammy song; it’s up for record of the year.) “With the songs that we were gravitating toward, we knew ‘True Blue’” — a Dacus-led ballad — “was gonna be such an indie smash, and fucking ‘Satanist’” — conceived by Baker — “goes so hard. ‘Strong Enough’ was the one we finished last, and I was like, ‘Let’s each write and sing a verse, because this could be the single.’” It didn’t feel like a sellout. “A lot of stuff that would feel contrived, solo, doesn’t feel contrived with these guys, because it’s just all in the spirit of fun and being together. And, yeah, it’s the first time I’ve ever been like, ‘Damn, people are gonna sing along to this part!’”

That delirious spirit stands in healthy contrast to the sad-core image some people might have slapped onto one or all of the band members. But it’s hardly all about the mirth. At the Bowl, as on every other night in the latter parts of the tour, Bridgers asked the audience to put away all phones for the album’s devastating final track, “Letter to an Old Poet,” as she walked the semicircular platform separating the front two seating areas. She says, “Every once in a while I see a phone and I fume, but mostly they’re great and they put their phones away. And because most of the show has been looking through people’s phones and not at their faces, suddenly they become a roomful of people, and it’s insanely powerful to me.”

Why that number in particular, for shutting down cameras? Is it just one of a dozen possible moments to make that request, or is there something in particular about this one’s wounded and angry spirit…

“I play plenty of heavy songs,” Bridges says, “but that one feels too dark to not be having a communal experience.”

“Isn’t that the only time that you’ve cried while doing a vocal take — during that song?” Dacus asks.

“Yeah. I had a couple years where I had a hard time crying,” Bridgers affirms. “I’m over it now, thank God. Now I cry all the time. But ‘Letter to an Old Poet’ is one of the only times I’ve cried onstage.”

“Lucky,” Dacus says. “I hate crying onstage. It happens. I hate that shit.”

These asides about tears might give a Boygenius novice the wrong impression about the band. Even their softer songs tend to have a barb in them, and others, like the screamfests “$20” or “Satanist,” are undeniably hard-ass. A cutting irreverence is the hallmark that makes the sentimental moments honest and disarming.

Their irreverence comes through in their choice of stage or TV outfits too: At the Bowl, they dressed up as the Father, Son and Holy Ghost (with Dave Grohl sitting in briefly on drums as a zombie priest). “If you think of a three-person costume,” Baker explains, “what’s three things? We were like, ‘We could be the Trinity.’” Maybe it’s just as simple as that — numbers as Halloween destiny. But the band members don’t demur when the suggestion comes up that maybe it also had something to do with the phrase that is repeated over and over again in the bridge of “Not Strong Enough”: “Always an angel, never a god.” They switched up that equation, if just for one night, getting deistic at the Bowl.

Less than two weeks later, for “SNL,” they dressed up as the Beatles in their Ed Sullivan-era early prime. The Trinity? The Fab Four? Screw CSNY and all the rest; these women know a real supergroup when they see one.

When “SNL” came around, it was clear they would only be emulating the Beatles and not, like, the Who. There was definitely not going to be any attempt on the show to repeat Bridgers’ guitar-smashing solo appearance of 2021. “Hey, I tried,” she says about not quite fully breaking her ax on that occasion; the guitar took a licking, but almost kept on ticking, a resilience she was amused, not annoyed, by.

This year, the group has been more about melting hearts than heating up flame wars — whether that’s been in their more nakedly revealing songs or taking up causes like dressing in drag in Nashville to support the trans community under political attack there, or inviting Indigenous groups to provide invocations before select tour dates.

When the band receives its Group of the Year award at Variety‘s Hitmakers event, Joan Baez will be presenting the honor to the trio. That may seem like an odd pairing if you’re only considering Boygenius’ more irreverent moments, but an utterly apropos matchup if you are keeping in mind the band’s deeply earnest side and, especially, the social conscience that flares up around their performances. As it happens, the group has also performed at Baez’s Bread and Roses benefits in the Bay area.

“Oh my God,” says Dacus. “Sometimes I have to remember how important she is, because in our experience of her, she’s just been super-kind, and complimenting us, and then it’s like, ‘You’re Joan Baez! You made music joyfully political for a whole generation of people!’ Sometimes we lament how people in media are asked to basically be politicians now…”

“Because politicians aren’t being politicians,” Bridgers interjects — “they’re being fucking TV stars.”

“But she set this example of, because you’re a human, you have to stand for things,” Dacus continues. “So, it’s not because we’re musicians that we care about these causes, it’s because we’re people, and we would be caring about them if we all had office jobs. A lot of people are afraid to do that, and she wasn’t, and it’s a great example for us. We are not very afraid to say what we believe. … Just as a person, I hope to be like her.”

Bridgers notes that Baez, in her initial heyday as America’s folkie sweetheart, “was losing opportunities because she was radical — and then that ended up being the fuel for her whole career. How radical she was was then rewarded.” She sums up Baez’s appeal in a nutshell: “Woody Guthrie was screeching this, and I’m gonna sing it.” (They crack up, with Bridgers noting that no offense to anyone living or dead was intended: “We’re big Woody fans.”)

Baker has thoughts about how they earn the right to be what might be perceived as political, whether it’s something as seemingly un-divisive as having Indigenous people do Land Acknowledgements introductions before their sets, or speaking up on trans or reproductive choice issues.

“Giving them something of ourselves in the songs is like an endearment practice, where we’re like, ‘You will trust us because you have an emotional connection to something we’ve said that resonates with you.’ So when we are in drag at the Nashville show [just after the state enacted anti-drag laws], kids are trusting our judgment, because we’ve gone to the trouble of sharing something difficult or even painful for us to communicate. Then it’s worth it for them to enter that conversation, because we’ve set the stakes of like what’s important to communicate, even if involves conflict or pain.”

The songs themselves aren’t always, if ever, aimed at the fans, though. Sometimes the target audience for the material is, well, Boygenius.

“We write songs to each other as a communication method,” Baker says.

Bridgers doesn’t think it should be mistaken for oversharing. “We have plenty of stuff that’s sacred and not shown to anybody other than each other. I think there’s this weird misconception sometimes that we don’t have a private relationship, because so much of it this year has been monetized in our performance.” And yet, Dacus says, their music is as transparently interpersonal as it sounds. “Some friendships over years don’t get to enough of a level of intimacy to share the types of fears and desires and hopes that we are saying.”

“We hang out,” declares Baker, as if this might not be a matter-of-fact thing for a working rock group. (It doesn’t go without saying.)

How long will the hang last?

In October, the band put out a four-song EP called “The Rest,” a sequel or companion piece to “The Record.” The title does have an air of at least temporary finality to it, as if the cupboard is bare. Says Bridgers, “It’s funny that it’s called ‘The Rest,’ because we absolutely do have more songs that we didn’t put out.”

But where do they go from here? In 2023, did the side hustle so overtake the main hustle that they should keep Boygenius going into 2024, when they could certainly sell out sheds or maybe even arenas they didn’t come near this year? They’ve already broken with supergroup form so much; would it be a terrible thing if they were to further break it to the point of unexpectedly doing an immediate, sequential band album? Or do they revert to their solo corners? Fans might wish there could be a multiverse in which the band never pauses, on one track, and individual careers proceed apace on another.

Conventional wisdom would suggest they will not let solo albums go unmade just for the sake of rocking more venues. But you will not get a definitive answer here.

“I don’t know,” says Bridgers. “It’s incredible to me that we have kept the ethos behind the band the whole way, which is: it just has to be fun. We’ve done a lot of shit, but there’s also shit we said no to, stuff that felt like it was like pushing a boundary as far as travel or labor and stuff that sounds like we might push ourselves into not having fun. So that gets to continue forward, after this album cycle. I think we just are gonna do whatever is fun, and remain each other to each other. These guys are as involved in what I do as they are in Boygenius. We show each other ideas, and…”

“We need each other’s brains,” Dacus says.

So is it possible to specifically say that solo albums are what’s next, or do they want to leave a bit of mystery?

The attempt to pin it down leaves them unusually cagey. “It’s a mystery,” Bridgers says.

Dacus: “I’ll just say I’m not thinking about it.”

Bridgers: “Oh, yeah. It’s a mystery to us.”

Dacus, having the final noncommittal word: “If it’s a mystery to you, it’s a mystery to us too.”

Hard to tell whether there might be any real indecision here, or whether they just don’t want to lay out all their cards for the outside world, or whether they might be having a difficult time reconciling themselves to a near-future in which they might be Zoom advisors to one another instead of daily physical confidantes.

In the immediate meanwhile, there is Grammy season, and a slew of awards to be won, or not won. Bridgers has some experience there, with her multiple nominations in 2021. “It was still very deeply fucking COVID when I was nominated, and I was pretty like traumatized last time, and like the only way I felt it was on the phone. To find out in a room full of people and be celebrating, it’s already way more fun.” Dacus says being collectively recognized is “triple the joy, right? Much easier to feel happy for them” than for herself, she says. “Much easier to feel.”

Is there a line from any of their songs that could maybe encapsulate how they’re feeling right now, between the six Grammy noms, the “SNL” appearance and the impending end-of-year accolades? At that question, they start to laugh.

“Give me your funny ones,” someone says.

Then Dacus says, “Ohhh, I have a cute one.”

“Which one?” the others ask, curious to get an earnest answer after all.

Quoting one of her own lyrics, Dacus lowers her voice, as if it’s suddenly occurred to her that it’s a secret that she’s sharing. “‘I never thought you’d happen to me,’” she says.

(x) photos by Jingyu Lin

[project-sekai-facts]

Hi! Welcome to Project SEKAI facts!

This account posts daily facts and trivia about Project SEKAI! I occasionally do longer analysis/content overview posts as well as some event speculation.

This account is currently operated by one mod and is scheduled to post daily at 4pm UTC. Bonus facts may be posted if I find something interesting in newly released content.

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I just post trivia and can't gatekeep that from you so reposts of trivia is allowed but if you choose to copypaste/screenshot my stuff to repost instead of writing it in your own words then please put credit. Reposts of my essays/character analysis is not permitted at all.

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Must be canon or otherwise official - Content from any server of the game (including cards, stories and songs etc), music videos, Petit SEKAI, official artwork or 4komas is OK! I will also accept content from the anthology mangas, magazine articles, and seiyuu content (including unofficial stuff so long as it is relevant to the game, like something they said on a personal livestream). In other words everything is fine except fandom stuff/unofficial fanworks.

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Asks are also open if you have any questions about a fact or if you have any general questions for me. Due to the incredibly overwhelming amount of asks I get nowadays, it is impossible for me to answer everything. Sincerest apologies for that. I still try to answer as many as possible but it could take a while for your ask to get a response. Also please do not ask me about shipping (platonic stuff is okay I just don't like to go into noncanon/speculative territory and then share my opinions on that. In other words I don't wanna start ship discourse).

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About mod

Yes I am one person. I treat this blog like a full-time job.

EN player since launch, got the game for the Sonic costume, stayed for potato ni natte iku. Not joking.

I am learning Japanese and am also entirely self taught. If I make any mistakes with my translations I apologise + please correct me!

i'm a VBS main (but like. barely. I love all the units a lot). no i will still not tell you who my oshis are or my opinions on ships. i like the vbs side characters and asahi and sakurako. i will tell you that much because i doubt how much people care about them.

I wrote the TVTropes entry in the header before the one other person who uses that site accuses me of stealing it

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I have most notifications for this blog turned off so if I ever miss something I apologise

That's all from me. You should watch all the Love Lives.

^ best ask i've ever gotten now framed in my pinned post

[mikeywayarchive]

x

Electric Century: My Chemical Romance's Mikey Way on Blending Music and Comics

The My Chemical Romance bassist reveals the inspiration for his new graphic novel.

BY MIKE AVILA

UPDATED: APR 28, 2021 2:06 PM

POSTED: APR 28, 2021 1:53 PM

Full interview under the cut:

Mikey Way is busier than ever.

Despite having many 2020 plans derailed by the pandemic, the former bassist for My Chemical Romance (and brother of lead singer Gerard Way) revived his musical project, Electric Century, and turned it into a multimedia outlet for his creative energies. The result is EC’s self-titled sophomore album which reunites Way with singer David Debiak, as well as a new companion graphic novel written by Way and Shaun Simon and illustrated by Toby Cypress, and published by Z2 Comics.

In an exclusive interview with IGN, Way opens up about the personal inspirations behind the GN, which tells the tale of a burnt-out former TV star who winds up trapped inside a hypnotic fever dream in mid-'80s Atlantic City. Way describes talked how his childhood in New Jersey and the immense fame he experienced during the My Chem era informed key aspects of the story.

The Origins of Electric Century

EC in many ways has been a lifeline for Way ever since MCR broke up in 2013. Meant to be the outlet for his and Debiak’s love of new wave and Britpop music, the first album came out just as Way checked into rehab in 2014. That scuttled any plans for touring with the album.

Now this one is out, and Way had some big ideas for taking the new record out on the road, in a way that would bridge the worlds of music and comics he’s constantly traveling between. Except, COVID-19 brought the world to a standstill.

“There were cool plans at San Diego Comic Con [in 2020] for this graphic novel,” Way says. “We were going to play at Comic-Con, too, and then, bam! The pandemic happened. This is maybe the second time that happened where we were planning to do an Electric Century show and it didn't happened. So it was like someone was telling me, “Am I not supposed to play a show?”

The writer-musician did like everyone else did; He adjusted to the restrictions of pandemic life. After discussions with Z2 Comics, it was decided to take a more organic and less calendar-timed approach to the release of the Electric Century GN. Available directly through Z2’s website , fans can either order the book separately or as part of a package with the album and other merchandise. It’s also available through other retail outlets.

"But we pivoted and we're going to do other different, cool stuff with it," Way adds. "And the cool thing about this project is there's no timeline. We’re just going to let this organically grow.”

Of course, 2020 was also when Way was supposed to be rejoining his brother Gerard and the rest of My Chemical Romance for the highly anticipated reunion tour. Like nearly all other musical tours, those plans have been put on hold while the world recovers from COVID, so there is no practical update for MCR’s return. Given the nature of such mega-band tours, lots of I’s must be dotted and T’s crossed before things can happen, so Way politely steers clear of tour talk.

With regards to Electric Century, however, he’s an open book. The graphic novel came into play as recording for the album was nearly complete. It was conceived to be a parallel creative journey to the music that exist independently of each other. Way credits some of the inspiration for the dual project to the hitmaking virtual band Gorillaz.

“I have a lot of respect for [Gorillaz co-creator] Damon Albarn, I'm a huge fan of all of his musical projects. He always thinks outside the box, and it was brilliant what he did with Gorillaz, where it was this fictional band and video projections and screens. So basically, my mind just went from there. I started listening to the album over and over and an old idea I had for a story kind of peeked out.”

The seeds for the story that would eventually see print in the graphic novel were planted in 2014, after Way had exited rehab for drug and alcohol abuse. Seeking different types of therapy to help with his recovery, he attempted hypnotherapy, where hypnosis is used to create a state of focused attention during which positive suggestions and guided imagery are used to help people deal with issues. That experience made a lasting impression on him, especially as a potential story.

“I kind of had the idea of writing a story where somebody goes through hypnotherapy but they actually get transported somewhere and they can't get back,” he says.

Who Is Johnny Ashford?

That’s how Johnny Ashford came to be.

Ashford is the alcoholic former sitcom-star who is the main character of EC. He sees a hypnotherapist who transports him to his “happy place,” which turns out to be the Electric Century casino in Atlantic City in the 1980s. The visits to the Boardwalk spark new obsessions and before long he realizes his life depends on figuring out how to escape the Electric Century.

Having grown up in the Garden State and visited Atlantic City often, Electric Century afforded Way the chance spend quality fictional time at a place he visited often as a kid. It also gave him a chance to tap into his familiarity with the pitfalls and pressures of immense fame, having experienced it during MCR’s halcyon days.

“I used some of my personal experience [for the book],” he admits. “But I also had a fascination with eighties child stars since I grew up in that time. You know, back in the eighties, celebrity was different. If you were famous, you were like, legit famous. Everyone knew who you were, but there was intrigue. The only information was what was in magazines or on television. There was no social media, nobody was willingly giving any information about their lives on a daily basis. So these people seemed larger than life.”

For young Mikey Way, the young stars of shows like Diff’rent Strokes and Charles in Charge seemed to be kids you'd hang out with after school. Which is what he did, coming home from school to watch reruns daily.

“And then at some point, as I got older, I saw the sad side of show business and how a lot of [child stars] get discarded. That always made me sad because they were so important to people.”

Nostalgia plays an important role in Electric Century. New Jersey landmarks like Lucy the Elephant, the oldest surviving roadside attraction in America, show up in the book. But the the remembrances are soaked in melancholy.

“I wanted to play upon everyone's natural inclination to be nostalgic about something,” Way says. “That concept fascinates me because I often think if you could walk through a tunnel and be in some other time in your past, would you love it still? Or would your perspective now be, “I'm not into this anymore.” I'm a 40 year old man now; how would I process Atlantic city in 1988? No idea.”

Even though the two Electric Century projects were designed to exist separately, the track “Alive” is a seamless fit to accompany the graphic novel. It’s a song that Way wrote about five years ago – it was originally meant to be on the first Electric Century record – and he considers it one of his best compositions. “It's kind of reminding you to be alive and be in the moment,” Way says of the song. “And I think that's something I'm guilty of not doing, I think everyone in the world is guilty of not doing. I like to think about that when I hear that song to, you know, snap out of it, live in the now and stop worrying about where you've been.”

What's Next After Electric Century?

Way has several comics-related assignments in various stages of development. Up next is a story he’s writing with his big brother Gerard for the graphic novel tribute to the Anthrax album Among The Living, which Z2 is releasing on May 12. He also couldn’t contain his excitement over one project. “I’ve got something that I'm very excited about that I'm working on right now,” he says. “I don't know where it's going to end up. We're talking to some places, but it will be very cool.”

Finding himself at this stage in life where writing comics is such a big part of his life isn’t some fluke. Way doesn’t view comics as just a fun side project to do in-between albums and tours. Like his brother, comics have been a part of his life longer than music.

“I’ve been a fan almost the entirety of my life,” he says. “When I was three, four years old, I was thumbing through comic books at the barber shop, learning how to read from comic books, because I wanted to know what they were saying instead of just asking, “Gerard, what does this say?””

The Way Brothers became hooked on comics with titles like Superman, Spider-Man, Captain America and other superhero series. But for Mikey, G.I. Joe was a major influence. He not only enjoyed the stories but studied the format and how the story unfolded over 22 pages. When it came time to do his first full-length comic, Collapser for DC Comics’ Young Animal imprint, he took the same approach he had when MCR was formed. And he’s continuing to work at the craft.

“I was a super amateur guitar player-turned-bassist for My Chemical Romance and it was something I just had to practice,” Way says. “That's kind of what is going on with me and comic books now. I'm learning from all my peers that are top-tier professionals.”

Some of the comics pros Way reaches out to for advice include DC’s Chief Creative Officer and comics legend Jim Lee.

“Jim was somebody who was very instrumental in my comics career. He'd come to me numerous times and be like, 'When are you going to write a comic?' That's kind of how Collapser came about.”

He admits to being afraid to make that jump into comics, for a number of reasons.

“I was busy a lot and I'm a bad multitasker, so I always just kind of pushed comics to the side,” he says. “I would write stuff out. But when My Chemical Romance broke up, Jim had mentioned to me, 'When are you going to do this?' And then I pitched him something, which turned out to be Collapser.”

As he continues to sharpen his comic book storytelling chops, Mikey Way is also trying his hand at yet another skill: Cooking. Being on lockdown during the pandemic motivated Way to apply his creativity to the kitchen.

“Cooking is a new thing for me. For the whole duration of My Chemical Romance, I think I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at a restaurant. Even when I was home, I would just eat out, or I would order takeout.”

“It’s definitely fun, but it's difficult. It's very, it's very difficult,” he continues. “There's a learning curve, but my family is very encouraging to me in my endeavors. But yeah, I'm a novice. A true novice.”

Electric Century is available in bookstores now.

[iwanthermidnightz]

 A week ago, Billboard magazine named “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)” the No. 1 best-selling album of the week, making Taylor Swift the female artist with the most No. 1 albums since the magazine began releasing album charts in 1956. Besting the previous holder of this title (Barbra Streisand), Swift is now tied for most No. 1 albums with Drake at 12 and outperformed only by Jay-Z (14) and the Beatles (19).

This chart dominance is clearly an impressive achievement. But what makes it stand out even more is that three of those 12 are rereleases of earlier No. 1 albums deliberately engineered to sound as much like the original versions as possible. While each reissue has contained six previously unreleased songs, the primary motive behind recording and releasing what Swift has labeled “Taylor’s Version” of these albums has not been to share new songs but to reclaim full ownership of her old ones.

That’s because the master recordings of her first six albums belong not to Swift, but to her former label, Big Machine. She and her co-writers retain the copyright for the songs as compositions, meaning if someone wants to reprint her lyrics in a book or — crucially — make a new recording of any of her songs, only Swift and her co-writers need to approve, and only they profit.

But if someone wants to purchase, stream or publicly use the version of any song from her first six albums as it was originally recorded, then Big Machine must give its approval and is entitled to a portion of the proceeds. Even worse, these master recordings (and the rights owning them entails) can be sold without the consent of the artists themselves.

So painful was the idea of letting her early work benefit someone she despised, and so sincere was Swift’s belief that artists deserve to own what they make, that the singer decided to rerecord her first six albums as faithfully as possible to render the masters virtually obsolete.

Swift is far from the first artist adversely affected by not owning her master recordings, a standard feature of recording deals; a similar dispute is why Prince became The Artist Formerly Known as Prince. Nor is Swift the first artist to rerecord music to reacquire its control — that’s been going on since Frank Sinatra left Capitol Records in 1960. The scale and pageantry of her project, however, are unprecedented — as is its massive success.

It is easy to see why no other artist has attempted a “Taylor’s Version” gambit despite many agreeing with its principles. Even if they had the time, money and technical expertise to replicate their masters, which exceedingly few do, most artists don’t have the power to persuade fans to repurchase all their albums.

The streaming era has proven this beyond question: No matter how much we love a singer, the majority of us choose the convenience of streaming platforms, even though musicians do not get a fair cut. Rerecording an album is just as costly and labor intensive as recording new work, sometimes even more so. Having enough scrupulously invested fans to make it a financially viable undertaking is beyond the wildest dreams of most artists.

Swift, however, is not most artists. Part of what sets her apart is obvious: Few artists can claim a fan base as large and ferociously devoted as Swift’s. But even among her fellow superstars, there is a mutuality to Swift’s relationship with her fans that is unique.

Many pop stars, Swift included, are worshipped like idols. However, to those same worshipful fans, Swift also feels like a friend. For Swifties, sticking up for Taylor feels synonymous with sticking up for one’s self, and their response to her “Taylor’s Version” project is the ultimate expression of this dynamic — and the benefit to be earned from nurturing personal connections with those who love your work.

Part of the closeness Swift’s fans feel to the star is circumstantial: At 33, Taylor is a literal peer to many of her fans, 45% of whom are fellow millennials. Moreover, from her debut in a country radio world saturated with male voices to her transition into a pop scene dominated by starlets whose words and images were often crafted by and for men, Swift provided a rare, intoxicating dose of genuine teen girl interiority, and young women flocked to Swift in droves.

But more important — what’s led to fans discussing her in therapy or treating places associated with her past relationships as pilgrimage sites — is her career-long dedication to fusing vulnerability and self-assertion. Swift’s unabashedly emotional songs, whether suffused with longing or rage, give voice to a degree of sentimental tumult that still feels radical for a “good girl” on Top 40 pop radio.

As someone who prides herself on emotionally proportionate responses, I was initially alienated by Swift’s penchant for musically litigating her grievances with lovers, friends and even unpleasant music critics. It struck me as petty and immature. Over time, however, I came to admire the boldness with which those same songs asserted the validity of her subjective experience and the bravery required to document her pain so vividly and publicly.

When I was Swift’s age, the embarrassment of admitting someone had the power to hurt me felt so often like it outweighed the catharsis of articulating that hurt, even if I might find community through doing so. Opening myself up to Swift’s work showed me a different path, one her fans had been on all along: By transforming her hurt into massively compelling art, she demonstrated that we could be empowered by our capacity to feel, rather than ashamed.

Instead of viewing herself as weak for feeling “so much” about brief relationships, Swift turned the moments she could not move past into cathedrals we could all inhabit with her. With Taylor, if it mattered to you, it mattered — death is still death, after all, even if it comes by way of a thousand cuts.

It’s this underlying compact that no doubt led fans to turn out in such droves to buy an album most of them already owned; so many that nearly 25% of all albums purchased during the first week of the new album’s release were “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version).” While outsiders might question Swift’s narratives or debate whether her loathing of Braun is reasonable, Taylor’s version of the story was the only information her fans needed.

Swift may be a gorgeous, phenomenally talented, global superstar, but her inability to play it cool has earned her a credibility that no amount of breezy, Springsteenian authenticity could. She has the talent to send a 10-minute version of a song about a 10-year-old relationship that lasted, at most, six months to No. 1 on the Hot 100 — the longest song to ever hold that position. At every stop on her sold-out Eras tour this summer, she has sung all 10 minutes of that song as stadiums holding 50,000-plus fans sing each word right back.

Just as Swift has asked them to, her fans sing her songs as if they feel they are genuinely about their lives. It turns out that kind of mutual understanding works all too well as motivation for buying her albums a second time.

[kafus]

is it true theres kamitsubaki lore and if so where can i read it? i know there's like, 2 games and an ARG?

simple answer: yes

true answer: it's complicated

kamitsubaki lore mainly centers around VWP (virtual witch phenomenon, the group of singers) and it's kind of a side thing? like you don't have to know the lore to enjoy kamitsubaki stuff. personally it's not even a super strong focus for me. so like yeah there's lore but you don't have to know it

that being said, if you WANT to know it... well right now that's pretty hard. there was an ARG all the way back in october 2021 that is essentially lost media unless you feel like perusing the unofficial english discord's archives of it, which are a nightmare to sift through. i'm planning on eventually organizing all of that stuff into a browsable format on a fansite but i just haven't gotten around to it

there are two games coming out (in english, too, thank the lord) but neither of them have come out yet. kamitsubaki city ensemble is going to be a rhythm game focused around VIP/the VWP cevios, and seems like it has some story stuff in it, though i'm unsure at the moment whether or not it'll actually tie into the wider Kamitsubaki City lore despite the title, though i imagine it very well Could. there's also a VN in development called kamitsubaki city regenerate, which seems like it's going to be the main way to get into the lore once it comes out, so definitely keep an eye on that.

if you want to try and consume the lore BEFORE these two games come out, there is a tabletop RPG akin to D&D online called NARRATIVE and you can find that here, but it's fully in japanese and is kind of hard to engage with if you don't know japanese because. well. it's a roleplaying game lol. but there's a lot of lore in like, the rulebook and stuff.

and of course VWP's music videos hint at stuff... and there's various scattered small things throughout paid concerts that i can't share... kamitsubaki city is kind of a fucking mess i'd honestly just wait for regenerate to come out and go from there LOL

though a quick tldr of the lore is there's a city called. well. you know. kamitsubaki city. and it's in ruin. and the VWP girls are called to the city by a mysterious force called the restoration department to fix it thru the magic of singing or whatever.

good luck soldier i unfortunately cannot relay all the lore in one ask because it's like trying to piece together a narrative from the past 3 years of me being a kaf fan that i've obtained through disjointed fan interaction and literally being there for a time sensitive ARG

[pjsk-story-summaries]

April Fools Year 1.2: Virtual Singers in Shibuya

TL;DR: All of the Virtual Singers from the SEKAI we know get transported to the alternate version of Shibuya. They explore the town and get to know each other.

Fan Translation (Project SEKAI in English) Virtual Singer conversations

Color key: Leo/need / MORE MORE JUMP! / Vivid BAD SQUAD / Wonderlands x Showtime / Nightcord at 25:00 / Virtual Singer

On the first login, Miku asks the player to explore an alternate Shibuya for the day. The various Mikus express surprise towards being in the real world with each other and decide to explore.

Conversations at Scramble Crossing

MMJ Rin and VBS Rin find L/n Len. L/n Len's a bit surprised since the two are so different from the L/n Rin he knows. L/n Len had met Len, who was very princely, and VBS Len, who complained about VBS KAITO, earlier. He asks what the other Virtual Singers of MMJ Rin and VBS Rin's SEKAI are like.

L/n Miku comments on the large crowds at the crossing. MMJ Miku and WxS Miku compare it to their own shows. n25 Miku hasn't heard of a show before, so WxS Miku explains some of the ones Wonderlands x Showtime have put on before. L/n Miku and VBS Miku ask what types of songs the others sing. n25 Miku explains cat's cradle at their request.

All of the KAITO express excitement towards meeting each other. WxS KAITO asks MMJ KAITO what it's like to be an idol. L/n KAITO's surprised to learn MMJ KAITO is also a manager and WxS KAITO is his troupe's leader. VBS KAITO's not sure if he can handle that much responsibility, and L/n KAITO doubts he has that much courage.

Conversations at the Mall

WxS Rin and WxS Len ask MMJ Luka how to do crowd work. MMJ Luka's flattered to be able to coach the two.

WxS MEIKO and WxS KAITO find n25 Rin off on her own. n25 Rin's surprised to see WxS KAITO, since he hasn't shown up yet in her SEKAI. WxS KAITO gives her a head pat out of habit. n25 Rin's curious as to what her n25 KAITO might be like.

VBS Len finds VBS MEIKO and introduces her to MMJ KAITO. VBS Len's impressed that KAITO is both and idol and a manager and tries to get her to see their VBS KAITO might be that hardworking, too. They both have a hard time convincing themselves of that fact, though. MMJ KAITO's happy their VBS KAITO is so loved.

L/n Rin and L/n MEIKO encounter VBS Luka and WxS Luka off on their own. L/n MEIKO asks if they're lost while WxS Luka falls asleep on L/n Rin's lap. L/n Rin's excited to be relied on like this, and L/n MEIKO's just glad everyone is having fun.

MMJ Luka finds the sleepy WxS Luka cute. VBS Luka teases her for essentially calling herself cute. L/n Luka tells MMJ Luka to stop pinching WxS Luka's cheeks while she sleeps. Luka and MMJ Luka wonder if WxS Luka will wake up if they start crying, much to L/n Luka's dismay.

Conversations on Main Street

L/n Miku hears someone playing inside a music shop and decides to investigate, discovering the source to be none other than VBS Miku. VBS Miku teases her for a moment before revealing it was actually L/n Luka strumming; she was just playing air guitar.

VBS KAITO asks MEIKO and L/n KAITO if they're having fun. MEIKO is disinterested and L/n KAITO is too shy to do anything. VBS KAITO starts rambling. MEIKO and L/n KAITO find him mildly annoying.

WxS Len tells the other Lens about rehearsing fight scenes. VBS Len asks if they use real swords, but MMJ Len deduces they're probably just real-looking. VBS Len wonders if he should spend more time practicing alone than trying to get VBS KAITO to do it with him. WxS Len and L/n Len are surprised to hear that, since their KAITOs are so different than that.

L/n Rin thinks WxS Rin's bunny-ear costume is cute, and VBS Rin and MMJ Rin talk about being a DJ and idol, respectively. L/n Rin, MMJ Rin, and WxS Rin invite n25 Rin to try their activities since she doesn't do anything. She reluctantly agrees to sing.

WxS MEIKO's surprised to learn VBS MEIKO runs a cafe. WxS MEIKO asks what the others's titles would be; MMJ MEIKO would be "Idol of SEKAI" and L/n MEIKO "Senpai of SEKAI", but n25 MEIKO doesn't want any title. She wants to watch from a distance. WxS MEIKO decides to call her "mother from afar".

Conversation at the Record Shop

MMJ Miku and MMJ Len find n25 Luka watching performances on TV at the record shop. She doesn't have these things in her own SEKAI. They all wonder what n25 Luka would look like in an idol costume and decide to go clothes shopping.

Conversation at Phoenix Wonderland

WxS Miku surprises n25 Miku with a "wonderhoy" before teaching her how to do one herself. n25 Miku doesn't quite get it, but it makes her feel warm.

At the end of the day, the Mikus discuss the fun they had exploring Shibuya and watching the alternate versions of the kids they've been watching over. They bid each other farewell and promise to sing together next time they meet. Miku thanks you for exploring that world before returning you to the standard timeline.

[thesinglesjukebox]

SUISEI HOSHIMACHI - "PLANETARIUM"

Presented by Tara, a VTuber with an arrangement that shoots for the stars...

[7.00]

Micha Cavaseno: One of the more perplexing things about pop singles emerging from VTubers (in any language, company, field, whatever) is how they're beholden to personas that should hypothetically rely on the talents and abilities of the human occupying the idol's space, but instead they can often smother the human in favor of the role. For example, Ironmouse the human can offer touching opera performances from her home set-up, but somehow with professional production, you end up with ran-through pop that flattens her abilities to provide audio fanfiction for the lore and put-ons of a CGI shadow puppet. So, like any ideal pop single, you'd want something that sounds perfectly in line with the singer's persona but also something that maybe transcends it far enough that the human at the core of the record's theater shines through. "Planetarium" is good in part because it has the confidence to not line up with the perception of the performer's penchant for committing war crimes in video games (though she's demonstrated a fondness for doing so with a song in her heart!) nor anything to do with how you're supposed to take for granted her friends and associates are adults assuming the mantles of dogs or demons or demon-dogs or what have you; not even in an otherkin way. So what prevents it from being too anonymous? I'd say it's the fragility and intimacy of the song, relying on a chain-link of Suisei's very very human voice to build and frame something that has to dwell outside of this fantasy world and instead leave you wondering about the world behind the puppet where only the person gets to dwell. It's perfect, for it seemingly frets over what it means to be a idol in either the digital or traditional sense, providing illusion as hope's balm in opposition to the human who has to guide it's rudders. It's a certain kind of mystery that doesn't really thrive in pop anymore, and however the silly means it returns, it's certainly feels all to fleeting to count out. [7]

Taylor Alatorre: Though the word "planetarium" does not appear in these lyrics, the title's connection to Suisei, who introduced herself to the world as "your shooting star" and whose fans call themselves hoshiyomi (stargazers), is obvious. She's a "constellation of hope," she tells us, who strives to bring solace to the lonely and struggling, yet she is painfully aware that this solace can only be accessed through a faint projection of images on an unbreachable wall -- a screen. "Planetarium" is an idol comfort song about the limitations of such songs, one that declines to feed into fans' most rhapsodic fantasies of connection, even as it seeks to establish a genuine emphatic link across the cosmic void. Suisei is still leveraging the intimacy of the VTuber medium here, as her admissions of personal frailty are laden with meaning to those who have followed her journey. But even for the uninitiated, the stately production from DECO*27 helps get the point across, as it blankets the listener's ears with soft, Vocaloid-like iterations of Suisei's voice, then steps back to allow for critical moments of unmediated fellow feeling. The military drums at the climax, often used to convey an unstoppable reign of stardom, are instead used here to suggest a kind of mutual empowerment from a distance, a hand-in-virtual-hand march into separate yet entwined futures. It's a healthier model of the idol-audience dynamic than the industry has sadly become known for. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: For all the hoopla about generative AI, it is a bit strange to be listening to the virtual streamer sing a solid approximation of pop with occasional low bass pulses from DECO*27, who knows not to introduce and drums until the last mark: a simple snare led arrangement using the bass drum for emphasis as the song trickles away, the voice leaning back and then taking lead as the echoes surround it, cracked by a last hit of the kick. If this is what non person sung music sounds like, it might not be so bad. [8]

Ian Mathers: This kind of has the opposite effect that 10cc's "I'm Not in Love" has, for me (and this isn't just down to the difference between one singer many times verses many singers layered together). There, the massed human voices almost dissolve the song, perfect for a narrator who is trying to hide. Here, even at their most layered, the arrangement suggest a determined self sufficiency, a thing of lonely beauty created by oneself because it has to be. Not that that's the only trick up "Planetarium"'s sleeve; I don't mind telling you I sat up fucking straight the first time I heard the drums come in (suddenly thinking of "Cloudbusting," among other things). [9]

Brad Shoup: By the halfway point, I was holding my breath to see whether she'd complete the song a cappella. Drums almost don't count, but the melody was full and the pace was engrossing, and I don't think I would have missed them. [7]

Dorian Sinclair: As the Jukebox's resident Choir Guy, you'd think this sort of vocal multitracking would be right up my alley, but I've actually never liked the "lead vocalist + faux-instrumental backing vox" style of a cappella writing. "Planetarium" has a very pretty melody and Suisei (and her many doppelgangers) perform it with a lot of expression, but I can't help but wish the track had more conventional instrumentation--even as I respect the more unusual path taken. I'm just saying, if she ever records an acoustic self-cover, let's circle back. [6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It has a solemnity I appreciate, and it certainly feels more emotional because the instrumentation is all digital (the martial drumming in particular), but I'm sort of left here thinking of nothing beyond, "well, it's pretty." [4]

Michelle Myers: Even my textural aversion to Vocaloid can't overcome the moments of genuine transcendence in the topline melody. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: In terms of arrangement this is some real "Eternal Flame" shit -- a by-the-numbers modern torch song, lushly appointed with slightly corny details (those snares!) What truly stands out in "Planetarium" is Suisei Hoshimachi's vocal performance, richly layered and genuinely emotive and moving in a way that few songs this year have reached me. As she ascends the triplet staircases of the hook she sounds at turns uncertain -- weak, even -- and radiantly confident. She's a singer in absolute control of the song. At its heart, "Planetarium" is a flawed vehicle for an incredible performance -- the musical equivalent of a middling biopic saved by a star turn. Fortunately for the song, I'm a sucker for those movies. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Am I supposed to hear "Fix You"? [5]

Alfred Soto: The Roches, the Bangles -- many non-Asian pop bands came to mind while the harmonies bewitched me with each pass. "Planetarium" is pleasurable in itself, a track dotted with as many false endings as an Indiana Jones film. [7]

Tara Hillegeist: So, cards on the table: this one -- even with the expectation I was throwing the Jukebox either for something of a loop or something of a snooze -- this one, "Planetarium", was my pick, out of an embarrassment of options, some of which I might even be made to admit on pain of death were better songs. But Amnesty Week isn't always about if the song you nominate was the best song nobody else on the Jukebox staff heard. It's about if the song you nominate is the song you wish got listened to with the same intensity and affection as the inarguable hits of the year that everyone else heard enough times to gain an opinion on already.

And perhaps I'd have better luck if I'd not been sidelined with COVID last year, such that I could've Amnesty-nominated Suisei's near-imperial "Stellar Stellar", a song which saw her briefly break viewership records on a "live" video recording for popular YouTube series The First Take as the first and to date still only virtual performer to grace what is otherwise a series that positions itself as close to providing the rawest, purest, flesh-and-fumbles versions of popular and classic songs in the Japanese cultural discourse (recorded in, as the title implies, one take). Prefaced as it is by an unforgettable, ingeniously performative, hesitant and "humanizing" glance towards the impassive cameras, that recording is an even better showcase for the strength and depth of her vocal performance than the original song. If she has an iconic song -- and hers is a career with no small amount of attempts to provide herself with one -- then "Stellar Stellar", a tenderly swooning, emotive ballad whose romantic flourishes find themselves lanced like a boil by sharp, bitter lyrics about how she's grown tired of being told to wait for princes to come when she'd rather become her own prince and save herself, is that song, and it will likely anchor her concerts and career retrospectives in pride of affirming place for years to come. Like Suisei herself, the song aspires to reach as many people as have ears to hear it, without ever truly desiring to close that gap between where she stands, singing alone, and where the audience finds ourselves, leaning forward to listen.

And it is that melancholic comfort in her solitude that links "Planetarium" and "Stellar Stellar", specifically, contrasted against a body of work that runs far more to jazzy, EDM-inflected pop than it does to the torch song- and scorcher-heavy era of Ringo Shiina's solo career so often cited as one of her aesthetic inspirations -- an element that "Planetarium" takes even further than the performance that nearly put Suisei's name on everyone's lips. "Planetarium" builds its instrumentation, harmonies, and central melodies almost entirely out of heavily-processed shards of Suisei's own voice, with only a steady synth pulse low in the mix and a climactic, triumphant drum fill otherwise, as she broods over the regrets and slowly-crushing pileup of setbacks that she's felt forming over the course of what starts out seeming like it might be a long-cooled romantic relationship, but slowly reveals itself to be nothing more than the fraught distance between singer and nebulously identified anyfan. Suisei has always laboriously linked herself thematically -- it's in the name, natch -- with the stuff of starlight and the night sky, something distant and heavenly, and "Planetarium" finds her wondering if that celestial distance between herself and her audience means both sides are condemned to never truly feel the satisfaction of a real connection, that she can never truly be someone's reason to get up and face another cold morning. But it's as the song turns to swell beneath her that she realizes, as long as she's honest, just acknowledging that her anxieties are hardly her own means her words are reaching someone - that just hearing her sing about those anxieties as if they're her own might be solace enough for the audience she seeks. And that, she sings, in exultant realization -- surrounded by little more than the murmuring of her own voice -- is enough; her voice, indeed, is quite literally exactly enough. So -- of course -- that's when the metaphorical mirror she's singing it all to breaks, right on cue. Perhaps that'll be the step too far, for some -- I enjoyed trying to meet her gaze, anyway, all the same. [9]

[polahusband]

Project Sekai Character Tournament Extra - Round 6

Mizuki Akiyama

Mizuki is a moody person, and Kanade thinks they only act on their own principles. They have a strong desire to express themselves freely, and can become frustrated and upset when ridiculed. They have an obsession with cute things, expressing it through their hand-altered fashion.

Despite their energetic, carefree, and sometimes childish demeanor, Mizuki is often shown to be the most mature member of their circle, as Ena admits. They often assume the role of mediator in arguments, breaking things up between Mafuyu and Ena.

Mizuki is great at understanding the emotions of others, and is able to sense changes in tension and atmosphere in the group. Despite this, Mizuki tends to keep their distance, keeping their true feelings and secrets hidden from even their close friends. They have a strong recognition of the struggles their fellow members face, yet fear that they won't be accepted if they're too open about themself. It seems that they stay secretive, to an extent, from an understanding that everyone has things they want to keep hidden.

KAITO

KAITO and the other VIRTUAL SINGERS live in a world called SEKAI, but appear in the real world to consult people who have trouble understanding their true feelings through music.

In the Wonderland SEKAI, he is a responsible and mature troupe leader. In 4koma #39 "KAITO's Title", Miku compares him to a mother as he cares for the SEKAI's plushies. Despite this, he would rather be thought of as an older brother figure rather than a parent.

In the Street SEKAI, KAITO is an excellent DJ, but tends to be carefree to the point of laziness. Len and Rin take DJ lessons from him. He appears as part of the SEKAI in the STRAY BAD DOG event story.

In the School SEKAI, he joins the VIRTUAL SINGER'S band on the guitar. He is very shy and thus tends to "speak" through his guitar; sometimes hiding from the other characters to avoid talking to them. KAITO appears as part of the SEKAI in the A Bright Future!! event story.

In the Stage SEKAI, KAITO appears as both an idol and manager for the VIRTUAL SINGERS of the SEKAI. He's considered a reliable figure and is a self-proclaimed fan of the other idols. KAITO appears as part of the SEKAI in the MORE MORE Making Christmas event story.

In the Empty SEKAI, KAITO is angry and irritable. He doesn't coddle the 25-ji, Nightcord de. members and instead tells them what they should do, encouraging them to express their feelings truthfully. He appears as part of the SEKAI in the immiscible discord event story.

[dustedmagazine]

Arthur Russell — Picture of Bunny Rabbit (Audika)

Picture of Bunny Rabbit by Arthur Russell

It had to happen eventually. Arthur Russell passed away in April of 1992, but through the dedicated sifting and sorting and careful consideration and meticulous preparation of his former partner, Tom Lee, and Audika Records founder and custodian of Russell’s musical estate, Steve Knutson, the man’s reputation has been burnished by a steadily growing posthumous back catalog over nearly 20 years — a span longer, in fact, than Russell’s original period of recording. But the well had to dry up at some point, and with Picture of Bunny Rabbit, Knutson himself says it may be Audika’s last “major” release. It is a beautifully fitting way to wind down the endeavor.

One of the reasons Russell remains such a guiding light for modern pop music is his boundless curiosity for genre; in that sense, he’s as contemporary as anyone working today — whenever today is as you read this. You have the dance-oriented Arthur that attracted acolytes of the “Springfield” DFA remix to stuff on Calling Out of Context as much as it did names like Larry Levan or Nicky Siano the first time around; you have his deep interest in theater and dance manifest themselves in scores like Tower of Meaning that Julius Eastman ended up conducting; you have the heartland singer-songwriting of stuff like Iowa Dream that showcased how plainly good he could be at conventional, Oskaloosa-infused coal town folk songs; you have all of it on what remains his masterpiece, World of Echo (though it’s worth a word here to mention the curious absence of Another Thought from Audika’s catalog).

Weaving in and out of all of these is an Arthur Russell I’d call the nocturnal, an artist interested in texture more than songcraft, moods more than discernible lyrics, often foregrounding long pulls on the cello and lower-register vocals on the mic. A less charitable way of putting it might be that it’s the version of Russell that haunts most, but you could just as easily say it’s the one that most completely taps into his ethereal skill, that otherworld of echo. However you want to look at it, that’s the Arthur Russell you get as the framework for Picture of Bunny Rabbit. There are noisy experiments and electronic wobbles afoot in these productions, but the bones of it are what I’d like to believe are the closest we come to his unconscious.

“Fuzzbuster #10” sets the scene with a gentle, contemplative instrumental of swooping cello and keys, and there are two more “Fuzzbusters” that lend color and scene-setting to this album that are well sequenced. “Not Checking Up” (which first appeared in 2019) makes its first appearance on record. The gorgeous “Telling No One” is virtually impenetrable lyrically in part because of the echo and in part because Russell jumps notes and rushes in closer to the mic, then backs away, emphasizing the dynamics and homespun nature that so many of his songs showcase. The album’s eponymous eight-minute noise experiment is the only clear outlier, but even in context, its continual manipulation of the cello into an increasingly weirder and ultimately almost guitar-shredding raga feels oddly welcome, a jolt of energy to an otherwise quiet, sedately restrained record that ends with another beauty from the archives. You can feel the same synth burblings from “The Boy With a Smile” in the bass if you turn “In the Light of a Miracle” up loud enough, but it’s almost a distraction to the after-hours love song Russell plucks to life. “Dancing in the light, holding in the light, reaching in the light …” he repeats as the song nears its conclusion.

That is how I suspect most fans of Arthur Russell would like to imagine themselves: dancing, holding, reaching in the light of his tremendous gift. Much like his ironically titled “Losing My Taste for the Nightlife” (which is his most touching song, and which I don’t think I’ve ever played before dusk or after dawn), Picture of Bunny Rabbit acts as a missive from beyond the beaming moon, a distant lover’s planet transmitting messages of hope and heart to those back here who need to hear it — for which there will always be a handful. The album may be the last major project Audika puts out, but just think of the people hearing this for the first time who weren’t even alive for Calling Out of Context, never mind World of Echo. There will be new followers forever even when there is no more new music. Arthur Russell passed away in April of 1992; Arthur Russell is eternal. The picture never faded.

Patrick Masterson

[presleypictures]

Elvis in his thirteenth picture “Fun in Acapulco”, 1963.

On December 4, 1962, a brief United Press wire service report out of Mexico City began appearing in American newspapers. It stated that, “Elvis Presley will rock ’n’ roll his way to Mexico incognito to film ‘Fiesta in Mexico.’” Newspapers in the Mexican capital added that Presley would fly directly to Mexico City from Los Angeles and “remain incognito during his stay.”

The misinformation from Mexico was the first public indication that Hal Wallis was in the pre-production phase of his next Elvis Presley movie. Within a few days, the producer began feeding updated information to Hollywood columnists. On December 6, Louella Parsons revealed in her column that the coming film’s title was actually Fun in Acapulco, and that its setting would not be in Mexico City, but rather in the Mexican coastal resort town of Acapulco. 

Presley’s ability to work undercover anywhere in Mexico would have been virtually impossible, not only due to his worldwide fame, but also due to the negative press the singer had received in Mexico over the previous few years. It started in January 1957, when Mexico’s Education Minister banned Presley from appearing in any government-owned venue in the country because the singer’s rock ’n’ roll style “lacks esthetic values and is markedly pornographic.” A month later, a Hollywood columnist reported that, “Elvis Presley was offered $12,000 for one TV performance in Mexico City but had turned it down because he’s too busy making movies in Hollywood.” Just a week later, on March 4, 1957, a wire service article out of the Mexican capital noted that, “Feelings over Presley have been running high in Mexico since a Mexico City columnist alleged that the singer took a verbal rap at Mexican women.” Presley denied he had made any statement about Mexican women, and a check where the statement was allegedly made failed to uncover any report of it. In 1963 the rumor was still widely believed in Mexico, and even Hollywood columnist Sheilah Graham reported it as fact in her column in December 1962. “Elvis Presley made some derogatory remarks about Mexican women in a fan mag article about two years ago. In Mexico, they are only just now getting around to forgiving him.”

The wily Wallis devised a strategy for avoiding production disruptions that Presley’s presence in Mexico might cause. His movie star would not set foot south of the border. Background photography would be shot in Acapulco, but all of Presley’s scenes would be staged in Hollywood. 

[letmeeatrawlemons]

anyone on global server willing to help me and my group out for the fan title stamp mission? we need n25, wxs, and virtual singers ! we need one more person for the stamp, and any help would be very much appreciated ! :D

[0613magazine]

040723 Billboard

BTS’ SUGA Returns as Agust D to Tackle Loneliness, Humanity & Being Acknowledged

Back under his solo moniker, SUGA is feeling two decades of songwriting and producing connect universally: "We're finally getting recognized as musicians."

Most famously known as SUGA from BTS — but also by the solo moniker Agust D, as well as birth name Min Yoongi — the artist who works as a rapper, singer, producer, dancer, fashion muse and NBA ambassador wants to remind listeners that, above all, he is a human.

Today, April 7, marks the return of Agust D, the name SUGA uses when releasing solo projects away from BTS, with the new single “People Pt.2” featuring K-pop superstar IU. Not only does it mark the duo’s latest collaboration after teaming for the No. 1 hit on Billboard‘s World Digital Song Sales chart “eight” from May 2020, it also acts as an extension from “People,” a fan-favorite cut from Agust D’s D-2 mixtape released that same month. While the original “People” saw SUGA reflecting on himself and meditating on how others judge and change, Part 2 longs for connection with others.

As multifaceted as SUGA’s world is, loneliness is a permanent source of inspiration and intrigue for the 30-year-old. Hours before “People Pt.2” drops worldwide, his call with Billboard occurs alongside multiple international teams who work around the clock for SUGA and BIGHIT MUSIC artists. Some are beside him physically, others via Zoom connection virtually — but loneliness remains a muse for the star, assisting him in searching within and speaking to listeners in larger, universal ways.

Since its debut, BTS’ musical appeal has reached globally largely through the septet’s extended metaphors and imagery, translating into accessible storytelling alongside boundary-pushing compositions and choreography. SUGA’s range of material is vast, after producing on essentially every BTS album, not to mention scoring high-profile collaborations with everyone from Halsey and Juice WRLD to Epik High and Japan’s ØMI. But now, he’s emphasizing the topics that move him personally — and ensuring he’s properly heard.

Despite an already packed spring and summer with album promo, his solo world tour, ambassadorship duties and a YouTube series, SUGA cheekily closes out our chat (“Yeah, it’s f–king busy,” he says with a wink) since he has no time to waste. Read on as he narrows in on the release of “People Pt.2” and all that’s led up to this reflective pop/hip-hop collaboration.

We’re hours away from the release of “People Pt.2,” your official return as Agust D for your D-Day album. Is there a different mindset when you prepare music as Agust D versus solo or as SUGA alongside BTS?

SUGA: They’re all music made by the person called Min Yoongi. So, I don’t actually have a very different mindset for each moniker — but I would say that the purposes could be somewhat different. Ultimately, the goal of releasing this music is for as many people to listen to my music as possible. So, “People Pt.2” was made thinking about how people will receive Agust D’s music, which is why we also featured IU. It’s kind of a trial to release this music under the name Agust D. I’m actually a little bit worried.

“People Pt.2” (featuring IU) of course follows up “People” from the D-2 mixtape. What was important about continuing this story with IU?

This is a story that you’ll personally love: The title wasn’t originally “People Pt.2.” Actually, “People” from D-2 is personally my favorite song — and we actually worked on “People Pt.2” three years ago. When I was releasing my pictorial [Photo-Folio Wholly or Whole Me] photo shoot, the company actually revealed the guide [demo] version and gave a glimpse of it to the public. But anyway, it was already finished when we were working on D-2 so I was thinking, “Oh, I should release this, I should release this.” But we had to get on with “Butter” and “Dynamite” so we didn’t get the chance.

Originally, the title was “Sara (사라),” without the “M (ㅁ)” consonant in Korean — because that’s, like, one consonant less than the word “saram (사람),” which is Korean for “people.” Depending on whichever consonant you put at the end of the word sara (사라), it can become “saram (사람)” and “people,” or it can become “sarang 사랑,” or “love” in Korean. So, it’s the listener’s choice to put which consonant you want at the end of “sara” (사라). But I had my friend listen to this son and people heard it as “sal-ah (살아)” which kind of means “live” in Korean and I was like, “This is not going to work.” So, we finalized the title to be “People” in the end.

And some people call me August D, some people call me Ah-gust D, but I’m actually Agust D. So, you know, people take my name differently and we had to sync the person SUGA and Agust D. This is a song that kind of matches that sync. We need that bridge and sync between my mixtape and this official solo album. In order to put that sync together, I had to make this a very pop song. We didn’t try to make the music video that intense — and, in that sense, IU really played an important role in doing that. I also think this is a genre that I can do best, this pop-focused song.

There’s this sync between songs, but the themes and lyrics are very different, right? “People” was self-reflective and examined other people’s judgments, but “People Pt.2” seems more about connection and fighting loneliness. What most differentiates the two in your mind?

In the past — and I’ve always said this in my interviews — personally, I think loneliness is being together in modern society. I always talk about loneliness in my interviews, but regretfully, it isn’t always in the final interview. Not only me, everyone has this loneliness inside them until the moment they die. However deep you are in a relationship, how much you engage with other people, how many friends you meet, or how often you meet with your family, you always have the loneliness inside.

So, I started with this keyword of “loneliness” three years ago, and I wouldn’t say there’s much difference in that everybody can feel pain and agonized. It’s the same with me. Whether it’s me from BTS, SUGA, Min Yoongi, or Agust D, I always have that inside me too. People might see me as someone who wouldn’t have any concerns or worries or that I don’t feel any agony, but I feel those emotions too. I’m trying to find a way to fight those and overcome those too.

This album doesn’t really finalize everything in its message either. So, there might be a possibility there could be a “Part 3” later on. For now, we’re just trying to say, “Let’s not hate each other. Let’s find a way.”

I like that — because even in the Road to D-Day documentary trailer, there’s a moment you say you frequently consider quitting music. But when people come together, it makes you realize you can do it and have fun. Does this tie into themes of “People Pt.2”?

This is kind of a difficult topic, because I started making music and writing lyrics [when] I was 11 or 12 years old. I’ve been making music for all these years, and now I’m 30. It wasn’t easy writing “People Pt.2,” and the album overall, but people really don’t know the whole process of that. Even though I’d been making music more than half of my life — and I’m just saying this because you understand this, Jeff — when we first started in the K-pop scene, we were in this ambiguous position of not being accepted as musicians and not being accepted as idols either. But the musicians close to me know that I’m very serious and sincere in music and that I’m a very natural person.

So, the documentary started as I just wanted to capture and show this process. It started with the purpose of showing SUGA as a producer and songwriter, but it kind of ended up having the worldview of an album-making process. I tried to show the normal, individual side of me as much as possible, but as I am a Korean idol, or K-idol, a lot of scenes were edited out; there were more of those natural scenes and some very good scenes that couldn’t make it in the final version. The documentary and “People Pt.2” try to reveal the natural side of the human Min Yoongi. I just wanted to show that I am this humane person. I am just a human.

You need to release your “Director’s Cut” one day. While D-Day and the documentary are coming, I want to congratulate you on the worldwide release of D-2 and Agust D this week. My favorite song, “Agust D” with the sample of “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World,” was finally added to streaming too. You shared how J. Cole approved BTS’ “Born Singer” sample, what can you share about the process with James Brown‘s estate?

I released Agust D when I was still very young, so, even as I listen to it now, it kind of sounds immature — if you listen to the tone, the rap itself wasn’t very organized, I wanted to do a lot of things at that time. It just kind of keeps going very tightly and quickly. But after doing so much various and diverse music, I think that people love the songs that have been released more recently than the songs that were released back then. So, I kind of dare say that people are starting to recognize and acknowledge these songs now. Since the musician actually passed away, I think it was the family who decided to acknowledge it.

Same thing with [clearing] “Born Sinner” — and I don’t know what the path was for the musician themselves, but it was clear. And I take it as that I, as BTS, and Min Yoongi, and SUGA, and Agust D, was acknowledged as a musician. I’m really not thinking that broader consumers or audiences will accept it, because it’s not really popular music. Still, I would dare assume that it’s getting cleared because we’re finally getting recognized as musicians.

Source: Billboard

[project-sekai-facts]

Hey remember when I said I'm not really a Vocaloid fan? Anyone got any ideas here because I don't know where to start. I could just pull up the last staff leak but this seems more fun and also I don't post leaks. If anyone wants to send in asks with their predictions feel free to do so

Virtual Singer MV should be for Len considering they've so far gone in reverse of the member listing order.

For anyone who doesn't know how these work, each circle equates to one character, including special characters. These are also done based on whatever the original title of the song is. You can find song titles in Japanese on the Vocaloid Wiki (use an adblock it runs on fandom)

[fayewonglibrary]

Individualistic songs sans lyrics (1996)

by Hu Wenyan

Faye Wong, ever the individualistic singer, revealed a new Mandarin album recently and its distinctive style is now the talk of the music circuit. Love it or hate it, it depends on what you want out of music.

IMPULSIVE (Polygram) Faye Wong

Wong, who is increasingly giving her works a markedly personal stamp, never fails to shock. Having declared that she would not attend any promotional activities, grant any interviews to the media or receive any music awards, she has been virtually "invisible". Yet, when her new album was released, fans rushed to snap it up.

This is no ordinary effort as all the songs are her own compositions and they reflect her musical concepts.

The lyrics of the title track, Impulsive, consists of four lines of 22 characters each. Of the 10 tracks, four are pure music pieces. Fans who bought the album may feel cheated, but going by the sales figures, it seems Wong's style still appeals to many.

The album strives for a musical feel that is almost spiritual. Uneasy, Where, and Imagine are pure music pieces banking on simple melodies to stir the imagination. It is as if the mind is carrying on a conversation with the spirit.

Wong's moanings as she "sings" such numbers as Break Up and Degenerate is actually a continuation of a style that places musicality above all.

If you study her lyrics, you would think she has a pair of worldly-wise eyes. Read between the lines and you will detect a tinge of melancholy that tugs at the heart.

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SOURCE: THE STRAITS TIMES