#I was in Sheffield seeing my brothers band

[phoneybeatlemania]

Hi, did you see Elliot Roberts' retrospective of John Lennon's discography? Any thoughts? I've seen it twice and still don't know what to think about its accuracy though I shared a lot of his opinions (musically).

Hiya @starlablog!

I really like this ask, since Ive been meaning to talk about Elliot Roberts for awhile now! Im actually quite familiar with him, since Ive been watching his Beatle videos since he started creating them! I think Ive seen all his videos so far? 

[Prefatory note: Ive seen all his videos I think, but cant remember most of them That Well, so im mostly going off of what I recall from his John Lennon video here since that ones still fresh in my mind]

Opinion time: I think theres definitely a gap in the YouTube market, in terms of Beatles content. Theres lot of people who discuss their discographies very analytically, but without being emotionally tuned in to other facets of their work (i.e understanding their works autobiographically/psychologically). As someone who cant read sheet music and frankly refuses to learn (my brother calls it “ugliness on a page” lol), this is SO FAR from the type of content I want to see—I love talking about their music, but Im always more interested in discussing how elements of their own emotions and psychologies and autobiographical circumstances etc. relayed into their discography. There are a few youtubers who Ive seen making videos focussing on their autobiographies, talking about the Controversial stuff (i.e Cynthia and Julian; Yoko) that we typically discuss on different forum platforms—but these videos are all about 5 minutes long, which really isn’t enough time to get a nuanced and well-sourced perspective on anything.

Even if were refraining from talking about their personal lives in a lot of depth, I still thinks it’s just way more FUN to discuss how creative they actually were in their music, and how they came to make their songs (i.e John telling George Martin he wants A Day In The Life to sound like the end of the world), instead of: “and then they used a C major!”. Like who cares??????? Not me :/

This is essentially why I Quite Like Elliot Roberts—because he’s the only YouTuber I know of who makes videos vaguely resembling the type of Beatles-content that would cater to me: not overly-analytical, employing elements of their autobiography into understanding them, and emotionally tuned in. Plus, he brings a bit of Fun and Personality to his discussions, that I don’t typically see with the (boring) music-analyists. 

However, I think his discussions of the band can be lacking in some respects: the main thing for me I think is that his understandings of the actual relationships between the band can be fairly surface-level, I guess. I like that he’s a little more emotionally-tuned into the dynamics between them then other youtubers, but I still think he could delve further into this element :/

I know Ive gone off on SUCH a tangent here, but this all essentially leads me to my opinion on his John discography ranking: I, like you, shared a lot of his opinions musically (I would say my favourite JL album is Plastic Ono Band; Whatever Gets You Thru The Night is a stone-cold SLAP etc.)—but again, its just........missing some things Here and There (and everywhere) in terms of analysis. Almost had to throw my laptop across the room when he demoted mother-fucking-I Know (I Know) to being just  a “cute” song. At least pick up on John literally lifting the opening rift to that song from Ive Got A Feeling, Elliot I am *begging* you (I will pay you real cash!!!!!!!!!). 

Personally, Id love to see YouTube videos with content more similar to the types of things we hear talked about on Beatles-podcasts or in books! Hence why in the summer, Im planning to maybe give this a go? I don’t think id make a particularly good YouTuber, but idk man, somebody’s gotta do it, so I guess I will lol. 

Anyway, not sure if Ive articulated this quite the way I wanted to, but please share your thoughts if you have any! :) 

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

'Freddie Mercury felt like a god. Then he started behaving like one,' by the man who signed Queen

By NORMAN J SHEFFIELD, Founder of Trident Studios where Queen first recorded // PUBLISHED: 17:00 EDT, 20 July 2013 | UPDATED: 17:16 EDT, 20 July 2013 (x)

NORMAN J SHEFFIELD on the amazing story of how one of Britain's best loved rock bands made it big

Freddie Mercury used to say there was no question in his mind that Queen would be a success

I was sitting in my office one day in 1971 when I got a call from my brother Barry down in the studio.

‘Norman, come down and have a listen to something,’ he said.

John Anthony, Trident’s A&R man, had discovered a band called Smile.

At the start, the lead guitarist was an astrophysics student from Imperial College called Brian May, the bassist and singer was an art student called Tim Staffell, and the drummer was a biology student called Roger Taylor.

It turned out that they’d now reshaped the band.

Staffell had been replaced by this little Indian-looking guy with a big, operatic voice and they had a new bass player.

John had asked for their demo. It was raw but there was definitely something there. I’d opened Trident Studios in 1968 in Soho.

Its cutting-edge facilities and happening vibe were attracting the greatest talents of the era, from The Beatles and Elton John to David Bowie and Marc Bolan.

The four guys who came into my office a couple of weeks later were an intriguing mix of characters.

Roger Taylor was a really good-looking kid, with long blond hair and charm. Brian May was tall with a mane of curls and a little introverted but clearly very intelligent. The bass player, John Deacon, was also quiet. I could tell right away that the fourth member was going to be high maintenance.

His real name was Farokh Bulsara. He was born in Zanzibar and educated in India. The family had immigrated to England when he was a teenager. He’d gone to Ealing Art College to study art and graphic design. He was also a gifted singer and pianist.

When he joined the band, he immediately gave himself a more rock ’n’ roll name: Freddie Mercury.

He was charming, acted a bit shy and reserved at times and spoke in quite a posh, mannered voice. When he relaxed he had a very sharp sense of humour and spoke at a hundred miles an hour.

Queen turned out to be every bit as good - and demanding - as we'd anticipated. Things had to be one hundred per cent right, otherwise they wouldn't be happy

They’d rightly decided to ditch Smile as their name. I nearly choked on my coffee when I heard their new one: Queen. The world wasn’t as enlightened then as it is today.

We were worried that it would be a real turn-off, especially given the band’s look. Freddie apparently had a girlfriend but we were pretty certain he was gay.

But the name wasn’t up for negotiation. I agreed to offer the Queenies, as we christened them, a loose kind of arrangement. There were times when the studio was ‘dark’, usually at 2am. So we said: ‘We’ll give you this downtime in the studio to see what you can do.’

They turned out to be every bit as good – and demanding – as we’d anticipated. Things had to be one hundred per cent right, otherwise they wouldn’t be happy. They’d spend days and nights working on the harmonies.

Arguments would start about the tiniest little detail. They’d start screaming, shouting and chucking things. Sometimes it would blow over in a few minutes, but at other times they would stew on it, not talking to each other for a day or two. They’d always sort it out, however. It wasn’t personal, it was about the work.

The more adulation Freddie received on stage, the harder he became to work with offstage

Freddie used to say there was no question in his mind that Queen would be a success.

‘There was never a doubt, darling, never,’ he’d say with an imperious wave of his hand.

The title of their first album was simply Queen.

Another suggestion had been Dearie Me, Freddie’s catchphrase, which was quite funny but the band were a hard enough sell as it was.

They spent ages arguing about the album sleeve. The front cover was a single image of Freddie on stage, with two spotlights in the background.

For the back cover the boys put together a collage of snaps of themselves.

Freddie had driven everyone to distraction fretting over whether he looked ‘gorgeous enough’ in them.

By the end of the year they were on the road with Mott the Hoople, but Queen were getting more encores and bigger cheers than the headliners.

They were due to go to Australia for a gig when Brian suddenly developed a really high fever. His arm had swollen up to the size of a football and doctors diagnosed gangrene.

At one point it was touch and go whether he would lose it. Luckily the crisis eased and he was allowed to fly.

However, the gig was a disaster. The local DJ introducing them had clearly taken against them because he introduced them as ‘stuck-up Pommies’. When they got on stage, the crowd turned against them, too.

The boys were mightily relieved when they got on a plane back to London. For some bizarre reason, the British press had been tipped off that Her Majesty the Queen was arriving at Heathrow. So when they saw four knackered musicians emerging through Customs, they weren’t too happy.

On their first tour of America, Brian’s health was deteriorating. Our worst fears were confirmed when doctors announced he had hepatitis.

The rest of the tour had to be cancelled. It was a disaster, professionally and personally. Then, when they came back to London in August, he had to have an emergency operation for an ulcer.

The opening track on A Night At The Opera attacked their management

But on October 11, 1974, EMI put out Killer Queen, from their third album, Sheer Heart Attack.

Within weeks it had given the boys the thing they’d most wanted – a No. 1 single.

As Queen hit the road again, this time as a headline act in their own right, it was clear they were on the verge of major success.

But the more adulation Freddie received on stage, the harder he became to work with offstage.

The tour came to an end at the famous Rainbow Theatre in London. The day before the gig, Freddie was being even more pedantic than usual.

‘Oh, stop being such a tart, Freddie,’ Brian said.

Freddie was outraged. He tossed back his head, waved his arms and stormed off in a strop.

When it was time for the soundcheck, Brian turned the mic on.

‘Freddiepoos, where are you?’ he shouted.

Freddie appeared immediately with a face like thunder. He flounced on stage, gave Brian a vicious look and then just got on with it. That’s what they always did.

In 1975 they went to Japan and found 3,000 fans waiting for them, all chanting the band’s name. It was like Beatlemania. Freddie had finally found the acclaim he’d craved all his life. He felt like a god. Unfortunately, he soon started behaving like one, too.

The more successful they became, the more agitated Queen had grown about money. One of the most heated rows came when John got married. In the run-up to the wedding he announced he wanted me to spring £10,000 (about £90,000 in 2013 values) for him to buy a house. I didn’t react too well.

Then Freddie demanded a grand piano. When I turned him down, he  banged his fist on my desk. ‘I have to get a grand piano,’ he said.

Norman J Sheffield: By the time I realised things were badly wrong it was too late

I wasn’t being mean. We knew there was a huge amount of money due to come flooding our way from Queen’s success. I explained that some of it was already coming in but the vast majority of it hadn’t arrived yet.

‘But we’re stars. We’re selling millions of records,’ Freddie said.

‘And I’m still living in the same flat I’ve been in for the past three years.’

The amount of money we’d invested in the band was huge.

We’d advanced them equipment and salaries right at the beginning and had continued to pour money into them for four years.

The fact the band owed Trident close to £200,000 (£1.75 million today) didn’t seem to register with Freddie.

I can remember the conversation.

‘The money will come in December,’ I said. ‘So wait.’

Then came a phrase he would make famous around the world in years to come, although no one would have known where it was born.

Freddie stamped his feet and raised his voice: ‘No, I am not prepared to wait any longer. I want it all. I want it now.’

By late 1975 I was hearing that they were making all sorts of derogatory comments about Trident.

Then I heard a track from A Night At The Opera called Death On Two Legs. The opening two lines summed up what was to come.

‘You suck my blood like a leech/you break the law and you breach’, then, ‘Do you feel like suicide?’ it went on, ‘I think that you should’. It was some kind of nasty hate mail from Freddie to me.

Soon Bohemian Rhapsody roared to the top of the UK charts and stayed there for nine weeks. A bittersweet moment, it came as news was beginning to leak that we had split from Queen.

We should have talked more. And I should have been more attentive to their feelings. By the time I realised things were badly wrong, it was too late.

In March 1977 the company settled with the band for the sale of all of its future rights, the rights to the old albums and the settlement of the management debt.

Freddie’s dream finally came true and he became a very wealthy man. When he died, no one was sadder than me. He may have been a monster to deal with, but he was also a genius.

I did see him once, in the years following our fallout, in 1986, when I took the family to their Knebworth concert. He was friendly, as if the rows of the past were forgotten. It turned out to be their last live concert, which meant I was at their first and last.

Years later, after his death, I went to the Freddie Mercury Memorial Concert at Wembley, where I saw the three remaining members being photographed.

John Deacon pointed at me and said: ‘And if it hadn’t been for that man we wouldn’t be here.’

Brian and Roger looked at me and nodded. That gesture went a long way towards exorcising the ghosts of the past. 

(Extracted from ‘Life On Two Legs: Set The Record Straight’ by Norman J Sheffield, out now and online from Amazon and in bookshops priced £14.95 for paperback, £7.49 for Kindle.

A limited-edition hardback is also available at £24.95. For more images, visit facebook.com/lifeontwolegs)

[dreamy625]

Overture and beginners - chapter 6

< Chapter 5

Words: 2524

Content: Final chapter! I think we know where this is going now 🫣

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

Katie turned into Steve’s street just in time to see a younger boy come out of the house, banging the door behind him and bouncing down the steps before heading off in the opposite direction. She waited a minute or so for safety before ringing the doorbell. Steve answered almost instantly, like he was waiting in the hall.

“Hullo, love.” He stepped back, letting her move into the hall before kissing her softly on the cheek.

“Your cunning plan worked then?” She gestured back in the direction that Chris had walked.

“Yeah, I had to pay for tickets for him and his mate, cokes, and popcorn. Who knew having a love life would be so expensive.” He held out his hand, “Can I take your coat?”

Katie handed it to him and automatically slipped off her shoes - if Steve’s mam was anything like hers, outdoor shoes on the carpet was a crime second only to murder. 

Steve led the way into the livingroom - two smaller rooms knocked into one, with anaglypta wallpaper and stone-clad fireplaces. “So, umm, this is my house…”

“Looks a lot like mine. I guess they were all built around the same time? Nice and warm though; my dad will tell us to put on another jumper until we’re practically spherical before he’ll switch the heating on!”

“Mine’s the same; I turned it up the minute they left. Come through to the kitchen and I’ll find us some drinks.” He started rifling through cupboards, “Tea? Or we’ve got lemonade, or…” he turned the bottle around, “dandelion and burdock?”

Katie pulled a face.

“Yeah, disgusting stuff. Why do they even make it? Here’s some weeds we pulled out of a ditch, wanna drink it? We might have something else, orange squash maybe…”

“Lemonade’s fine.”

Steve poured two glasses. “Now lemons, much better idea… fruit… from a tree… and it smells nice…” Clamping his lips together to stop the babbling, he handed her a glass and leaned back against the counter, his head tilted down to the floor. He peeked out at her from under his fringe. “Why am I nervous?”

“No clue, because I am cool as a cucumber!” she laughed. She crossed the kitchen and ran her hand down his arm. “Maybe because you’re thinking about what might happen, and it’s new and a bit scary? Me too,” she confessed. 

He pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. “We’ve got hours and hours to hang out, with no parents, no annoying little brothers, no obnoxious bandmates. We can do whatever we like, right? It doesn’t have to be that.”

“Whatever we like,” she echoed, wrapping her arms around his slender waist, “no expectations.”

“So… d’you wanna see my room?”

“You’re the first girl that’s not related to me to come in here,” he noted as he led the way upstairs. “‘No girls in bedrooms’,” he added in a low, gravelly-voiced impression of his father. “Don’t know what they think is going to happen… actually, now I do…”

Katie had limited experience of boys’ bedrooms, but it looked pretty much like she would have imagined - standard department store furniture, brown carpet, blue curtains, band posters, Sheffield Wednesday scarf hanging on the wardrobe door. 

“Very neat. Did you clean up specially?”

“Maybe, what do you think?”

Katie looked around the small space.”I think… it’s normally pretty tidy, but you made it even more so because I was coming over? No one really has a desk where everything is exactly at right angles!”

“You got me. I don’t have much stuff, just clothes and records really, so it’s hard to make too much mess. I dusted,” he added proudly, “and look, clean sheets.” Katie raised her eyebrows, and a tinge of pink lit Steve’s cheeks. “So, err, shall I put some music on?”

He moved to the record player and dropped the needle onto the record already on the turntable - Queen, it turned out. They both stood rather awkwardly until Steve motioned for Katie to sit on the bed; the only chair in the room was the straight-backed wooden one that went with the desk. He continued to hover at the side of the room, picking pencils up off the desk and putting them down again.

“Come sit with me?” she asked, scooting back to the far corner of the bed. He sat down, pulled his legs up, and leant against the headboard. Katie cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Tell me about these bands you’ve stuck all over your walls.” 

She already understood him well enough to know that music was the topic that would always make him calm and happy, and she could feel the tension leave his body as he expounded on the talents of his favourites, Jimmy Page and Brian Robertson. 

After Steve hopped off the bed briefly to turn the record over, he returned and laid down facing Katie, but not touching. 

“Hello,” he said, smiling mischievously.

“Hi,” she answered cautiously, wondering what game this was.

“May I kiss you, m’lady?”

“I think that could be quite agreeable,” she allowed.

He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, just once, and leaned back. “Thank you kindly, I am greatly in your debt.”

“Oh come here you ridiculous boy!” she laughed, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and pulling him close for a proper kiss. 

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

They were well-practised at this now and it didn’t take long before hands and mouths and whispered words brought them to the point of rubbing up on one another in sweet desperation. 

Steve rolled on top of her and paused, looking searchingly into her face. ‘Yes?’ was all he needed to ask.

“Yes,” she answered instantly.

“Sure?”

“Completely.” She wriggled beneath him, opening her legs wider so he fitted neatly between her thighs. 

“D’you want me to… use something?”

She shook her head, “Let’s not add any complications. I’ve been taking my magic pills, so we’re all good.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “If it hurts, or there’s anything you don’t like, you tell me. Promise?”

“Promise.”

With a look of intense concentration he moved to line himself up, but it felt like he wasn’t prodding in quite the right place. 

“Down a little bit…” 

She angled her hips up and all at once the pressure turned to yielding and Steve let out a ‘hah’ of surprise. As gently as possible, he pushed a bit further in but stopped immediately when Katie drew in a sharp breath. “Oh no, did I hurt you?”

“It’s just uncomfortable, because it’s new. Just go slow.” 

He still looked doubtful, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Really, I’m fine, keep going.”

Monitoring Katie’s expression intently the whole time, Steve did as he was told until he was in as far as he could go. “Is that okay?”

“It feels a bit weird. Not bad, just different. Your… um, your dick is bigger than your fingers!” She experimented, angling her pelvis up and down and clenching and releasing her muscles, adjusting to the new sensations.

"Jesus! That's…"  He'd been focusing so hard on getting it right that he hadn’t really registered how it felt until now. 

The expression of open-mouthed astonishment on her boyfriend's face made Katie laugh, and he laughed back. "Hey, I felt that through your…" (they’d never managed to find a non-cringey word for it).

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "I'm so glad I'm doing this, the whole first time thing, with you."

"Me too." He leaned in for a kiss, at first tender and then passionate. "Can I move?" he murmured, and she mm-mm-ed in answer.

After the first few stuttering strokes, the angles and the motion just clicked and it was easy, smooth and slippery and tight and warm and better than hands, better than anything. Steve’s brain overloaded with ‘feels so good-am I doing it right-can’t believe we’re doing this-she’s so beautiful-oh my god-this is amazing’ and the only coherent thought he could push out was, “Good?”

“Really good.” 

She had wrapped her legs around his hips and started rocking to meet his thrusts and quickly he had to switch from thinking how incredible it felt to thinking unsexy thoughts about belt drives and tailstock adjustment. 

“Don't know how long I can…" he panted.

"That's okay."

"You could… use your fingers? You know…”

Katie hesitated for a moment, self-conscious, before reaching down between their entwined bodies. Not much room, and it was an awkward angle, but ah, there, that was… something. Maybe if she could match her movements to his… 

“Can you go slower?”

Steve switched to long, slow strokes, figuring out how to use his elbows for leverage, and discovered that was a whole new flavour of amazing, ‘oh my god’ and ‘please not yet’ battling it out in his head.

It felt so good, like when they used their hands on each other, but more intense, not just physically but mentally too, a full mind-body experience. Katie felt dizzying waves of both pleasure and emotion building, culminating not in a big explosion like you read about in those novels you have to hide under your mattress, but a warm rippling feeling that spread from her centre all the way down her thighs and made her moan, every breath becoming an ‘ohh’, and grip onto Steve’s bum to pull him in as deep as possible. Feeling and hearing that was Steve’s undoing as well. Some deeply ingrained natural instinct overtook any conscious control and his thrusts sped up, breath coming in grunts and jumbled words, “Oh god… I’m gonna… I… I love you… I love… you…” and a final groan that cracked into a sigh. 

Steve dropped his head down onto Katie’s shoulder, resisting the urge to just slump completely and squash the poor girl. ‘Wow’ was the only reaction he could manage. 

She giggled jubilantly, “We actually did it!” and when he lifted his head she ruffled his hair and observed, “Ah, and there’s that grin you’re going to be wearing all week.”

“All month maybe!” He leaned in and kissed her, “You are the most wonderful girl.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

With a shift of his hips he carefully extracted himself and eased over onto his side, curving his body around hers and nestling his head between her neck and shoulder. Katie wrapped one hand over his as it laid across her stomach, and trailed the other up and down his side, dancing her fingers from one rib to the next (he was unbelievably skinny for someone that she regularly saw eat a pie nearly the size of his head in the canteen at lunchtime!).

When they’d both got their breath back, she started to fidget. “I’m just going to… where’s your bathroom?”

“Opposite side of the landing. Do you need anything? Borrow my dressing gown, it’s on the back of the door.”

From the landing, Steve heard an exclamation of ‘urgh’. “You okay?” he called.

“It’s running down my leg! Yuck!”

“Soooorry.”

“Typical,” she continued to the accompaniment of running water, “you guys make the mess and us women have to clear it up!”

The toilet flushed and Katie reappeared and climbed back into bed.

“Everything all right?”

“Yup, little bit sore, but no blood.”

“Does that really happen?”

“Apparently. Maybe if you’ve never put anything in there before?”

“Lucky we did all that practising then.”

“Preparation is everything.” She looked around the room, seeking out a clock. “What’s the time?”

Steve checked his watch. “Twenty to nine. We’ve probably got another hour before anyone comes back.”

“What do you want to do now?”

He stretched his arms over his head. “Total clichè, but I really want a cigarette.”

“So have one then.”

“I’m not allowed to smoke upstairs.”

“You’re also not allowed to have girls in your room, and yet…” she smiled.

“Good point.” 

He reached over to the nightstand and took out a pack of cigarettes, matches, and a coughdrop tin to serve as an ashtray. 

“Heh, this feels like more of a transgression than the other!”

He offered her the pack but she shook her head, snuggling back down with her arm across his stomach, watching as he attempted to blow smoke rings at the ceiling. 

“Do you feel different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know, like you’ve ‘become a man’ or something? It’s made out to be this big momentous thing, and I mean, it was, but I still just feel like me.”

“I don’t think I feel any different, but I do feel like there’s, I don’t know… a secret special thing between us, that’s just for us. Does that sound stupid?” 

“No, it does feel like that.” She tightened her hold. “You’re all mine how, Clarkie.”

He was silent for a moment or two, then, “I meant it y’know, it wasn’t just because of… I love you.”

Katie lifted her head to look into his face. Her eyes were soft and she was smiling a lopsided, considering kind of smile. “I wasn’t going to mention it, in case you didn’t remember saying it, in case it was just an in the moment thing. But I love you too.”

They kissed for a long moment, then Steve sighed. “I wish we could stay like this all night, but I suppose we should get up and get dressed. If Chris comes home and finds a naked woman in the house I will probably have to give him my whole wage packet not to tell Mam.” Reluctantly he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, picking up their now-crumpled t-shirts from the floor.

Katie dug out her knickers from somewhere under the blankets and pulled them on. “It’s not exactly how I want to first meet your family either.”

“You’d certainly make an unforgettable impression! But yeah, clothed and a little less ruffled might be better.” He watched her pull her shirt on over her head, then reached out and combed his hand through her tangled hair. “You look beautiful though. Debauchery suits you!”

“Why thank you. I think.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up to put on his jeans, “I’ll walk you home, or at least to the end of your street.”

“You’re going to have to meet my dad eventually you know. As my boyfriend, I mean.”

“I suppose so, but can we make it not when I’ve just shagged his daughter!” He clapped his hand over his mouth - that’s not quite how he would have phrased it if he’d thought about it!

But Katie just laughed. “Scaredy-cat!”

“With good reason - I like my arms and legs the way they are!”

She ran her hand down from his shoulder to his hand, interlacing their fingers. “I like your arms and legs the way they are too, and I will protect you from the nasty man. We can say goodbye behind a bush if you like.”

“Thank you.” He lifted their clasped hands and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Best day ever,” he said, the Cheshire Cat grin returning.

“Best day ever,” she echoed.

[freakingoutthesquares]

What happened to the scarred landscapes?

Ex-Pulp guitarist Russell Senior gets his skates on and finds that, in contrast to 20 years ago, his hometown is awash with bangin' beats and basil. Observer Music Monthly, Sunday 15 October 2006

"At the age of 18 I escaped the squalor of Sheffield as fast as British Rail could take me and went as far geographically and culturally as is possible. To Bath, in fact. For months I slumbered in the golden light of Bath's beauty. But something was missing in this soft-focus dream. I pined for the furnaces. Sheffield was calling me back ..."

As the train sped north, past desolate wastelands, I felt a rising exhilaration. Then, as I saw the sickly orange glow of the city, the smokestacks and endless rows of grim, charred houses, I felt pride. A perverse pride that I came from a place so unremittingly ugly. A toothless old lady on the bus showed me photographs of her grandson, Nathan, who had just had his spleen removed; it is a shame, isn't it?

I discovered my own city. Concerts everywhere in underground clubs, pubs, abandoned factory buildings and railway stations. Distorted electronic experiments balancing on the edge of ugliness. Poets with haircuts that made the last bus home dangerous. Dark venues with half-lit figures banging lumps of metal and snarling in a flickering collage of projections. Dadaism for the masses. So you formed a band. Everyone formed a band.

By 1983 it was beginning to wane. Some bands had got big. Others had fallen by the wayside. It was sobering to see someone who you wouldn't have dared speak to, because they were so cool, begging or staggering around drunk. The miners' strike started the following year and I used to go out in the middle of the night on flying pickets around those scarred landscapes. Being in a band seemed trivial in comparison, but that's what I did for the next 14 years, which is two life sentences.

It was quite a relief to stop doing that and return to normal life in Sheffield.

In the last two or three years, while I've had my back turned, there has been a renaissance. Groovy young people are of a mind to check out new stuff, and there's plenty of it. The few concerts I have been to recently have been - get this - mostly enjoyable. The city has changed out of recognition. Sadly, it isn't half as depressed as it used to be. Cranes fill the sky with condos and you can buy a cappuccino, fresh basil and all the other essentials of modern living. So it's time to pass the burgers through the school fence and hit the town. It's raining and the sky is leaden, the best possible omen ...

First off is the Leadmill, where Juliette Lewis and the Licks are on. I don't know much about the turn; I think they must have won the 'Search for a competent yet generic and soulless rock star USA' competition. The audience will be ejected at 10pm so they can be charged again to come to the club night later. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but surely one cannot attain the warm susurration of drunken bonhomie before 10pm? That simply isn't enough time to recognise a few faces, talk some crap, venture an opinion on the turn, change it in the light of other people's comments, stumble on to the dance floor, sidle ineptly up to an attractive person you've seen around a few times and ruin your chances of effecting coitus with them forever by vomiting. Anyway, Juliette isn't local so I shall eschew her scantily clad antics in solidarity with you, my oppressed brothers and sisters.

Next up will be Offbeat at the Raynor Lounge in the university, a tiny venue catering to the C2006 crowd. You can dance to Sonic Youth, the Pixies, and obscure Fall B-sides, but don't ask the DJ to play the Kaiser Chiefs or you'll be thrown out. If an unfamiliar track comes on, just ask yourself: 'What would Belle and Sebastian do in a situation like this?' Shuffle off the dancefloor until you've established that it's by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs then sidle back on as if you liked it all along and had got it on brown 10-inch vinyl. When I was a lad indie kids were the most flamboyant and vivacious. How things have changed.

I notice three girls looking across, nudging each other and pointing in my direction. One of them walks over and says: 'Excuse me, but aren't you ...' I suck in my stomach and cheeks and reach for my solid gold autograph pen. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah, who's it to? Invented Britpop, you say? You're too kind. The jacket? £1.50 from Oxfam. Yes, they are rubbish since I left. Yes, it is my own hair. Anyway got to shoot, catch you laters' - the usual stuff. ' ...Sophie Senior's dad?' she finishes.

As if that isn't bad enough, there are eight dance events on. Clubbers will know that Sheffield has a very good (or is it bad?) dance scene, with Gatecrasher and the like. So remember to restrict your vocabulary to 2,000 words max and only use smug affirmatives such as, 'bangin" 'mental' 'steamin" and the like. DJs are just people who play records! Personally I wish DJ Pied Piper would lead them all off a cliff like the sheep they are. Dat would be well wicked.

We drop into the Grapes, a pub which puts on three bands a night, seven days a week, to see Baby Pinkstar. They start tuning up and arguing with each other. 'Just play the bloody tape!' screams the singer at the drummer. This promises to be an awful, grinding dirge. Surprisingly, it isn't and the two songs I hear have a country and northern psychobilly edge. And it doesn't cost £12. And you can hang around and talk twaddle afterwards. And the bassist is fitter than Juliette Lewis.

Next up is Pink Grease, who are playing at the roller disco. Now that's more like it! The Friday night I first went there was in the mid-Seventies. Tentative newcomers clung to the sides on coltish legs as Noddy Holder rasped: 'We're all crayzee now!' A girl from our school got a love bite to the sirens of 'Blockbuster'. On Monday she wore a scarf to cover it from the teachers, but made sure it slipped down so her mates could see it at lunchtime. The slag! So imagine my surprise when I go up the same stairs 30 years later to find them playing exactly the same records. The people look exactly the same too, only even more Seventies. Current jumble-sale chic is offset by physics-defying hair topiary.

Pink Grease play glam as nature intended it. There's none of that intellectual Pierrot-doll Bowie/ Roxy/ Bolan fey stuff. No, it's just proper 'back-of-the-bike-sheds' British glam with a nod to the New York Dolls. This is the glam of 'Angel Face' by the Glitter Band, of Sweet and Slade and Suzi Quatro. They ride the colossal natural waves of reverb in the hall to catch some long rides of grooviness. Oh, and the singer has blue hair and jumps into the audience a lot, which is just as it should be. For the first time since the Eighties, I envy rather than pity the youth of Sheffield. Did I mention that the audience is on roller skates?

There's stacks more going on, so if you're lucky enough to live in or visit Sheffield, pick up a copy of the free listings fanzine Sandman and add your voice to the sound of the crowd. If you like live indie, you'll need to go to the Fuzz club. If you like electro, you'll want to check out Synthetic. If you like acid-folk, you'll be needing the Red House, Lantern Theatre or Cool as Folk. If you want to read some history, then get Beats Working for a Living by Martin Lilleker, which details the Sheffield scene up to 1984, when it all went downhill.

·Russell Senior played with Pulp between 1983 and 1997; he now writes, produces and manages bands

[newtonsheffield]

excuse me? you can't just say you want to write Greg & Goose as best friends and then not expect me to request this? also all four of them going on double dates (with Kate & Anthony not really knowing how they feel about it) or them babysitting some of the kids? [and btw now I'm also imagining Katie, Charlotte & Sarah forming a band when they're teens, but they're just really really.. not good, but they're having so much fun, so everyone just suffers through it] 💖

Oh Man, Gregory and Lucy and Eddie and Goose are the Sunshine Kids of this AU. And I just can’t help myself where these guys are concerned. I just... love them. Matthew and Greg have Nerdy Guy oh my god, How is my wife this hot Solidarity and Edwina and Lucy have looks like a cinnamon roll, but secretly a badass solidarity. These guys would be friends. And you just Know Anthony is in the corner like “Kate, He’s taking my Greg now too!” 

And Katie, Charlotte, and Sarah are a power girl trio. You just know Charlotte is out there being chaotic as heck, Katie is the quiet mastermind and Sarah is trying to be the voice of reason like “Can we think about this for just a second please?! No? Okay well I’m at least going to make sure we’re sensible about this!” 

Without further ado: Goose and Greg: Bros for life!

Pssssst: @aspoonfuloffiction Gregory being a cutie

Matthew Bagwell had been very nervous when Edwina had tugged him along to his first Bridgerton family dinner. She’d kept a firm grip on his hand while she introduced him to everyone, trying to ignore how Violet Bridgerton had turned to Edwina’s mother and said Oh Mary. What a sweet boy. I see what you mean.  He’d met Hyacinth who looked at him and laughed brightly, Sophie and Benedict, who Matthew knew worked closely with Edwina. Eloise and her husband Phillip, Eloise looking at him sharply for a moment and then Edwina had settled on a man, wearing glasses, grinning happily, a tiny woman tucked under his arm And this is Gregory, Anthony’s youngest Brother and his Fiancée Lucy they’re getting married in September! Edwina had said tucking her arm around his waist. Matthew had smiled, as Gregory adjusted his glasses jostling his fiancée just slightly showing the front of his Tshirt and the words had been out of Matthew’s mouth before he could stop himself. Super cool Doctor Who shirt Man. I love Amy Pond hands down the best companion. Gregory had stilled for a second glancing down at his shirt, a Tardis sketched on it a speech bubble popping out of it with the words Come Along Pond!  written in it. And then a broad smiled stretched over his face, Matt! Are you a whovian?!  Matt had felt himself relax a little Should we not all be? He’d said smiling at Gregorys infectious smile and before Matt knew what had happened Gregory had leapt forward and spun Edwina around hooting Edwina Sheffield I think I love you! You’ve finally found a cool guy to date and I am ecstatic for you. Nay for us both! And by the end of the evening Matthew had the oddest feeling that he’d just made a new best friend. 

Hey Ummm la la la Lucy? Gregory had loitered nervously in the kitchen for several minutes already, his eyebrows frowning adorably, making him look a little like a lost puppy. Lucy clicked her tongue ignoring how her heart fluttered. Yes, honey? Why do you look like you’re about to tell me Gerald just ate a lego stormtrooper again? Gregory shook his head quickly. No um the cat’s fine. You know how I just got the new Zelda game? Do you think it would be weird if I asked Matt if he wanted to play with me? And Lucy’s heart fluttered with the adorableness of her Fiancé standing in their kitchen asking if she thought someone wanted to be his friend. Gregory hadn’t stopped talking about Matthew Bagwell since he’d met him too weeks ago and they’d discussed everything from Classic Nintendo to Jurassic Park. And it was adorable. No Honey, I don’t think that would be weird. Do you want me to ask Eddie for his phone number? Gregory nodded enthusiastically kissing her cheek happily as he skipped from the room Love You Luce! tossed over his shoulder. Lucy heart doing a ridiculous stutter as she typed out Hey Eddie, Can I grab Matt’s number from you? Greg wants to ask him to play Nintendo I think.  The response came back 3 minutes later Edwina Sheffield: Here it is. I already mentioned it to him though and he’s very excited. He’s going to make Hummus. 

Edwina sighed happily as she looked at her fiancé across the room, smiling happily in his eleventh doctor costume at Gregory in his Link costume. Ugh, Christ, Why is Gregory so fucking Cute?! Lucy said a little disgustedly as she took a drink from her glass. Watching as her husband’s arms moved around excitedly. Edwina hummed It’s a bit of a trap isn’t it? One minute you’re going about your life and the next a very cute boy wants to make jam for you and tell you about his feminist ideals. Lucy gasped Yes! So disarming! They can’t just pop out of nowhere like that with their stupid glasses! Edwina heard her sister cackle a little madly beside her You two are ridiculous! Thank god I was never like this with Anthony.  Edwina scoffed, Kate 25 minutes ago you told me you shagged Anthony in the laundry room because he was wearing one of Edmund’s socks as a bracelet, You’re in no position to judge. Kate for her part looked barely ruffled I stand by that. It is awfully adorable when they love their children. You’ll see! And Honestly, Edwina couldn’t wait too.

[ladydarklord]

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘wreck my plans’ chapter 6: your heart was glass...

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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               They took the night train into Sheffield. Tom sat across from her, a science fiction novel open in his hands. It was only a two hour ride, but Molly wished she had brought something to distract her from everything. Instead she sat there, her heart hurting, wishing she had the courage to bring up what she needed to speak to him about. There had been a lack of that lately, courage. The first weekend of the new year, she had a symposium to attend where she’d be giving a talk about her most recent published article.

               Curious, she decided to at least say something. “Did you ever read my paper? The one that was published a few weeks back?”

               Without looking up from his book, Tom furrowed his brows. “What paper?”

               “It was the one about the unusual cases of tandem bullets and how to spot the findings of such an injury,” Molly reminded him.  

               “Uh, no, sorry, Molls, can’t say I have,” he replied, still not looking at her. “You know it’s not my cup of tea.”

               Not his cup of tea, indeed. She rolled her eyes. Of course he hadn’t. But Sherlock had. And without prompting. A small smile bloomed on her face at the memory. He had told her it was brilliant. “My clever Molly,” he called her.

               Molly turned her head toward the window, watching as more stars dotted the sky the further from London they got. She blinked her eyes slowly, fighting the exhaustion she felt. It wasn’t long before everything went black, dreams of Sherlock in her head. This time, she didn’t fight them. They were lovely dreams of Sherlock kissing her, holding her, touching her, making her his. It was more than she could bear. Then they were dancing, the song playing in the background tugging at her heart.

                                     Goodbye, my almost lover

                                   Goodbye, my hopeless dream

               Tears stained her face as she slept. She’d cry an ocean for him, the water’s colour matching his eyes. He was calling out to her, her name like a prayer on his lips. What followed were the words she had longed to hear him say: I love you. And damn it, she could no longer deny that she loved him too.

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               Arrived in Sheffield safe and sound. It probably won’t be long until I’m dead to the world. Happy Christmas to you too, Sherlock. And thanks for thinking of me.

                -Mx

                Sherlock read over her words several times before finally setting his phone down to look over the sheet music in front of him, adding the final notes to his composition for her. Reaching for his violin, he put the bow to the strings, allowing the first sorrowful notes to overcome him. The music coursed through his veins as it poured out from his heart. The tone shifted into something tender, romantic. He thought of her eyes, her laugh, her smile; the way she lingered long enough to drive him crazy when she kissed his cheek.

                Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson listened to the music—she loved it when he played—with tears in her eyes. “You poor dear…” she blubbered, using a tissue to blow her nose. She so wished he would just tell Molly how he felt. There was no doubt in her mind that the girl loved him back. They were both so damn stubborn.

                 As Sherlock brought the music to a close, he let out a ragged breath. Setting the violin back in its case, he thought of how much he wished he could have her here for Christmas. He wasn’t overly fond of the holiday, but it sparked joy in her. They could spend it together—just the two of them by the fire, he in his chair and her, legs curled up on his lap. It was a nice little dream. Sherlock so desperately wanted her to know he loved her. He wasn’t giving up without a fight this time.

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                  Molly looked around at all the once-familiar faces. The house was crowded with Tom’s family—people she met only a small handful of times—but she never felt so alone in her life. When she thought of family, images of John and Mary showed up, Greg, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and, of course, Sherlock. They were the ones she should be spending Christmas with. It wasn’t that Tom’s family was awful—quite the opposite. It had been so long since she had a parent-like figure in her life.

                   “Have you two set a date yet?” his mother asked. She threw a stealthy wink at her son.

                   Tom shook his head, amused by the question. “We discussed April in the beginning, didn’t we, Molls?”

                   “Hmm?” she said sleepily. “Oh, uh, yeah.” They only discussed it, never officially choosing anything yet. Or, at least, she never did. “Sorry, just a bit tired from the ride over. Thomas, do you know if my phone is done charging yet?”

                   He headed over to the small charging table across the room and retrieved it for her. “All charged up,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

                   “Thanks,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. Tom did love her, she had no doubt about that, but it wasn’t the way she had always imagined. Then again, life wasn’t a fairytale. But it could be, Mary’s voice rang clear in her head. Molly unlocked her phone finding another text from Sherlock.

                   Glad you made it safely. Have a good night, Molly. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.

                   -SHx

.

.

                   She had no idea how long she sat there staring at the little ‘x’ he added beside his initials just for her. Needing to be alone with her thoughts, Molly headed upstairs. A few people—his mum, aunt, and grandmother—bid her goodnight. She acknowledged them briefly, happy when she was able to turn the corner at the top of the steps. It was another hour or so before Tom joined her. He slipped in beneath the duvet, oblivious to the fact she had been crying. Not that she knew what for. She wanted to start a fight with him if only just to feel something other than the pain that had been eating her up for weeks.

                   “I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” she muttered to him.

                   Tom turned toward her. “Where’s this coming from?”

                   Molly sighed. “From a long overdue conversation, and please don’t just shut me down like you always do. It’s getting old. I think when you met me, I was a shell of the person I am. You fell in love with the wrong girl.”

                   “Come, now, Molls, I know who you are,” Tom tried to assure her. “This is just wed—well, engagement jitters. Is that why we haven’t done much of anything to plan? I know it can be overwhelming.”

                   She shook her head. He really didn’t know her at all. “What’s my favourite colour?”

                   “I—what’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “It’s green.”

                   Molly smiled sadly. “No, it’s not. It’s yellow.”

                   “It’s just a colour, Molls,” he told her, yawning.

                   “It’s your favourite colour,” she told him.

                   “What is?”

                   “Green,” she replied. “That’s the colour you like.”

                   “Actually…it’s not,” he admitted.

                   Molly scrunched her face in confusion. “Then why do you wear green so much?”

                   Tom ran a hand through his hair. “You said you really liked green on me when we were first dating.”

                    She tried so hard, but couldn’t control the laughter that came out. Tom joined in, knowing how ridiculous they’d been. Sharing a laugh helped lessen the tension, but he couldn’t deny she had a point. Like most things though, he let it roll off his shoulders, chalking it up to nerves or pressure. Maybe if he could make things easier on her. Wedding planning was a bit contrived. Perhaps she’d prefer spontaneity? The cogs were turning in his head, though it wasn’t long before they both drifted to sleep, facing away from one another.

.

.

A Little Over a Year Ago

                “Molly! You made it!” Meena shrieked in excitement. The pub was crowded, music from the house band thumping through the speakers around her. She dragged Molly over to the bar. “I’d like you to meet Tom! He’s a friend of my brother’s!”

                “Hi,” Tom greeted her somewhat awkwardly. He held out his hand to her and Molly shook it.

                “Hello,” she replied, forcing a smile, unable to ignore how he dressed similarly to a certain consulting detective. Some days were still difficult since Sherlock had gone. It had been nearly a year since he left. Molly knew he was alive, but she grieved him just the same. She felt his absence in everything she did, searching for him in the lab or expecting him to come sweeping in the morgue like he did before. Mike had caught her once in the lab, heaving sobs wracking her body.

                “It’ll be alright, Molly,” he had told her, silently asking permission to hug her. She nodded and let him comfort her. He knew how much Sherlock meant to her. “We all miss him.”

                Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult for her to convince everyone of her own grief. She prayed for his safety every single night. And, Meena, bless her soul, was trying to help Molly move on.

                “Would you mind if I bought you a drink?” Tom asked.

               Determined to enjoy herself, Molly replied, “Not at all. Thank you.”

               Meena’s brother joined them moments later, and the four of them traded stories from Uni, laughing at all the shit they got into. It was the first time Sherlock hadn’t lingered in her mind since his departure, and Molly felt lighter than she had in months. Tom was lovely, treated her kindly. They bonded over their love of BBC’s Miranda and Doctor Who. She learned that he liked to go to the pub on weekends to watch football with his mates.

               Molly was hesitant to share anything about her. She certainly didn’t want to tell him she was still grieving the loss of her closest friend, though it would eventually come out later thanks to Meena. She listened to him talk about his family, growing up in Sheffield. When he asked about hers, all she could muster was, “There’s no one left. Just me.” The emptiness left inside her made itself known once more at the reminder that she really had next to no one left in her life. She had Meena, and of course that should be enough, but somehow it wasn’t.

               “Hey…you okay?” Tom asked, breaking her free from the depressing thoughts in her head.

                “Hmm? Sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I tend to get lost in my head sometimes—it’s been happening a lot more often lately.”

                “Nice to see you joining the land of the living,” Meena joked.    

                Molly rolled her eyes playfully. The rest of the night eased her troubled mind. They had gone and played darts, girls against guys. Only by two points, the girls had lost, but it was because of Tom’s insanely accurate throws. She felt flirty with the alcohol in her system, and decided to present a proposition to Tom. “Take one more shot, and if you hit the bullseye—“

                “And what?” he asked, teasing her, his eyes practically undressing her. “Do I get a snog out of this?”

                Meena’s brother whistled loudly.

               Feeling bold, she nodded. “You better not miss.” Surprising her, Tom took a moment to line up the shot and hit it right in the center. Meena and her brother cheered and started shouting in excitement when Molly pulled Tom in for a searing kiss. From that alone, she could feel the void that had been left in her life from Sherlock’s absence start to close up bit by bit. And it left her wanting more.

 Nine Months Ago

               It had been a bit of whirlwind. Molly had dated Tom for a month before they made it official. Now, two months in an actual relationship, she felt content. His gentle demeanor was exactly what she needed in her life at the moment, and she was thankful for it. They were to have dinner tonight over at his place. She was excited mostly to see his dog, Milo, who always looked put out every time he took a whiff of her, smelling her cat’s scent on her clothes.

               “Molly,” he smiled brightly when he opened his door to his flat. “Come on in. Milo’s missed you.” He shut the door behind her after she stepped inside, and kissed her lips firmly. “I’ve missed you too.”

               She laughed, feeling her face flush. “You know I’m only with you for your dog, right?” she joked, bending down to scratch beneath Milo’s chin. He sniffed her, letting out a disapproving growl. “You’ll have to just get used to it, Milo.”

               “I knew you were too good to be true,” Tom joked back from the kitchen. “Milo gets all the love.”

               They eventually sat down to eat the delicious dinner Tom had cooked up for them. There wasn’t a lot he was good at making, but Molly didn’t care much, for she wasn’t one for cooking, herself. “There was this tumor I found during my autopsy today; it was so small, but intricately woven throughout the tissue. So sad for the poor man, of course, but it was fascinating!”

               Tom blanched, fighting the urge to vomit. “Is that so?”

               “Oh! Sorry, I forget I can’t just talk about that stuff with anyone.” Molly wanted to slink beneath the table, embarrassed of her enthusiasm.

               He smiled weakly. “No worries, just maybe no autopsy talk tonight?”

               “Right, of course, sorry.” It was the fifth or sixth time she felt she had to apologise for her more…odd interests.

               They finished up dinner and settled on the sofa for a movie that, about halfway in, was ignored in favor of a little snogging. Molly tried to get herself to relax, matching his enthusiasm in an effort to clear her head.

               “I think I love you,” Tom had spoken against her lips.

               Molly paused, unsure at first, and then spoke slowly, “I think I do too.”

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter One: Something New

this is the first part of my new series i hope you enjoy it :)

Forever? Masterlist

31st October 2015

Somehow Ashley was late, well she wasn’t late late, just later than she had said she’d be, who knew getting two trains from Holmes Chapel to Sheffield could be so time consuming. She panted heavily as she approached the security at the back entrance to the arena, showing them her driver’s license, and they checked her name off of the guest list, Paul led her down the corridors and through the arena to catering where Harry was sat eating food from the buffet, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, but they still managed to speak pretty much everyday. She quietly approached her best friend who was sitting across the table from Niall, clearly involved in a heated debate. “Guess who?” she chimed, covering his eyes with her hands.

“Susan Boyle?” he joked, before Ashley lightly slapped him round the back of the head.

“You’re a little shit, you know that don’t you?” she told him as she placed her bag and jacket on the chair beside Harry.

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way would you?” he replied, standing up and hugging her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his exquisitely decorated arms holding her tightly. “I’ve missed being your little shit.” Harry told her, “Food! Do you want some food? I told Sarah to make your favourite because I knew you were coming.”

“You’re a soft bugger aren’t you?”

“I think I prefered little shit.” Harry chuckled, his cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

“So how’ve you been?” Harry asked eagerly as the two of them found a space at a spare table, Ashley tucking into her plate of cheesy pasta and salad.

“Not bad, It’s weird not being in education, when I decided to take a gap year I thought I’d be buzzing, but I’m so bored.” She explained, twirling the pasta on her fork.

“Well I’m just happy to have you here love, I missed you.” he smiled, picking at Ashley’s pasta.

“I missed you too H, do you reckon you’ll come back home when the break begins?”

“For a little bit, I’m back at Christmas, but it looks like I’ll be in LA for New Years this year.”

“Oh I bet you will,” Ashley teased.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry smirked.

“You know exactly what I mean Styles! I do use social media you know, I’ve seen the pictures of you and Kendall, as long as you’re happy I’m happy, you are happy aren’t you?” she replied.

“I am Ash, I think I am.” Harry replied, sitting back in his plastic chair.

“What do you mean you think?”

“Alright Ashley? How’s tricks?” Louis asked as he took a seat beside her.

“Not bad, not bad, I hear congratulations are in order though, dad! that’s pretty crazy.”

“Yeah it’s mad innit, I’m excited though, lookin’ forward to it.”

“I’ve seen you with your Doris and Ernie, you’ll be a great dad.” she assured him.

“Cheers darling that means a lot,” Louis replied.

“I’ll see you two later.” Harry stood you, prepared to slip away before the topic of conversation turned back to him.

“Hey Styles! You didn’t answer my question.” Ashley called after him.

“Forget what I said, I’m happy. Promise.”

The final show was less than an hour away, the boys and their respective family and friends were all sat in catering together, the mood was different, everyone would always be so hyped up for a show, but today they were mellow, there was the same laughter there had always been, that was unmistakable, but it was different, everyone was reminiscent, talking about their favourite memories of the band that had been such a massive part of their lives. Ashley could sense Harry was quieter, he sat next to her twiddling with his thumbs and fiddling with his hair that Lou had only just fixed. “You wanna go for a walk?” She whispered, nudging his arm, he nodded.

The pair found themselves sitting on some steps behind the stage, the shrieks and chatter of the fans surrounded them as they did, “What’s eating you up H? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, letting him know she was there if he needed her.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” Harry asked, looking at the floor.

“I think you’re making the right decision for you, look at it this way, you wouldn’t drive a car from London to Scotland without stopping off in Liverpool for petrol on the way, and you ,might decide not to stay in Liverpool too long, but on the other hand you might like Liverpool a lot, and you might decide to stay in Liverpool longer then you’d planned. What I’m trying to say is H, the last five years have burnt you all out, you wouldn’t be human if they hadn’t, no one would blame you Harry, how could they?” Before the band Ashley had always looked to Harry for advice, like she would an older brother, but ever since the X Factor final the tables turned, Y/N would always assure Harry that somehow everything was going to be alright.

“I’ve been offered a solo record deal.” Harry told her quickly, like it was a plaster he’d been meaning to rip off of his skin.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s three albums, no time scale, no pressure.”

“Looks like you’ll be stopping off in Liverpool a little longer than originally planned.” She told him, causing Harry to let out a loud chuckle, he rested his head on her shoulder and let out a relieved sigh, “Do you remember what I told you that night at the X Factor Final? when you were a skinny sixteen year old in baggy jeans, and I was a little fourteen year old with a terrible fringe.”

“No I don’t, that whole night is a massive blur.” he replied.

“You were anxious about the future, I told you that moment was just the beginning but you weren’t sure, and I said to you, tell me that in five years when you’ve got number one albums, won awards and sold out arenas, and frankly Harry my sentiments remain the same, you are going to do amazing things in the next few years, and the world will get to see the real Harry Edward Styles.”

The final show had drawn to an end, there were tears, before, during and after the show, mostly from the mums, tears of joy that their sons had accomplished so much, but also tears of sorrow, the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing what the next few years would hold. “You alright?” Ashley asked Harry whilst they were standing at the bar in the midst of the after party.

“Yeah, just about, come here,” he wrapped his arms around her, swaying from side to side as the music changed, “I’m so lucky I get to call you my best friend.”

“It's that song H, the one that Gemma had on that day we first met.” Ashley told him, gazing up at her best friend.

“We best go dance to our song then.” He replied, taking her by the hand and leading her to the dancefloor, the two of them dancing how you would expect two slightly drunk people to dance “But you don’t pull my strings cause I’m a better man moving on to better things!” Harry shouted, as they continued to dance together, laughing hysterically as Ashley held onto Harry’s hands.

“Strong dance moves Ash.” Niall chuckled as she returned to the bar, “Oh this is Matt, he’s been part of our tour crew for the UK leg, Matt this is Ashley.”

“Nice to meet you.” His Geordie accent thicker than any she’d heard before, his hair was combed back on top, and short at the sides, leading her to infer he was a peaky blinders fan. “Those were some impressive dance moves.”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Niall announced taking his beer from the bar, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” He whispered to Ashley, sparking a small grin on her face.

“What are you drinking?” Matt asked as she took a seat on the barstool beside him.

“Heineken.” She told him, he raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “Were you expecting me to say white wine or something?”

“Usually I can tell what sort of drink someone would go for, how about you grab us a table and I’ll bring your drinks over.”

Ashley had no clue what possessed her to invite Matt back to her hotel room, he said he fancied a chilled one where it was quieter, and she quite agreed, the music was intense and the chance of having a proper conversation was slim to none. “So how long have you known Harry?” he asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“Ten years, we were neighbours when we were kids, and I guess we’ve just been best friends since then.” She explained.

“So you’re not together?” He asked.

“God no, Harry’s like my brother, he’s always looked out for me, I’ve always looked out for him.” She explained.

“And what does your boyfriend think of how close you two are?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“There’s no way someone as fit as you doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he told her, edging closer to where she was sitting on the bed, placing his hand on the bare skin of her thigh, gradually sliding it up, under her skirt.

“You’ve got protection haven’t you?” she asked, reciprocating his kisses.

“Of course I do.” He told her, unbuckling his belt, his kisses became more intense as he hovered over her, there was no connection, not on Ashley’s part anyway.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Ashley stirred from her sleep to see Harry knelt beside her bed, “I bought you some food petal,” He told her, stroking the hair from her face, before passing her a face wipe to remove last night’s makeup from her face.

“What did I do to deserve a friend as good as you?” She asked, sitting up in bed as she took a croissant from the plate Harry had placed beside her bed to nibble on.

“You’re clearly just born lucky.” He told her, “So tell me, where did you and Matt get to last night?”

“Oh shit.” she fell back against the pillow, hiding her embarrassed face from Harry, “We slept together,” she whispered.

“And he’s not here now? He’s literally just left you here? If I weren’t the calm person I am I’d be out of here looking for him.” Harry exclaimed, the anger in his voice apparent.

“If I’m honest H, I’m not bothered whether I see him again or not, he wasn’t the best I’ve had.”

“Who was?” Harry asked, clearly intrigued who his best friend had been with.

“Luke.” She shot him a knowing look, waiting for him to figure it out.

“As in Australian Luke? When did that happen?” He asked.

“The Take Me Home Tour Show in London, it was only one night Haz.”

“How come you never told me?”

“Do you tell me about every aspect of your sex life?” She replied quickly.

“I best leave you to get ready,” he stood up, making his way towards the door, “Quick one love, if you are going to have sex next door to me in the middle of the night could you keep it down a bit, these walls are paper thin.” He turned on his heel, smirking cheekily as he strolled out of her room.

“You’re a little shit Harry!” Ashley shouted after him.

“Love you too!” Harry shouted back, sighing to himself as he left the room.

[newmusickarl]

Album of the Week: 91 Days In Isolation by The Slow Readers Club

When Mancunian indie rockers The Slow Readers Club released their fourth studio album The Joy of the Return in March this year, they probably weren’t expecting to drop their fifth studio album just a few months later. However 2020 has been a strange year, with COVID-19 causing non-stop disruption and hardship on both the music, and wider world. Summer festivals and album tours were off the agenda, with the Readers instead plunged into a UK-wide lockdown.

Not to be deterred, the time was spent productively with each member of the band working individually at home on different elements of songs. This eventually all came together and out of this bleak, secluded period comes 91 Days In Isolation – an immensely timely and politically-aware record, that also features some of the band’s finest moments to date.

The Starkie brothers, James Ryan and David Whitworth have never been ones to shy aware from the darker social and political issues, and whilst confined to COVID lockdown it’s come as no surprise they’ve dived headfirst into the changing times that the pandemic has caused. Across the album’s eight tracks, the Readers share their observations during an intense summer of fear and uncertainty, letting the listener into their most vulnerable thoughts and feelings. All of this is propelled wonderfully by their signature sonic backdrop of pulsating synths and atmospheric guitar riffs.

From the ominous swell of the mightily infectious Yet Again, the piano-driven outro of Like I Wanted To and the stinging guitars and heartfelt vocals on Everything I Own, the lockdown has really brought the very best out of the Readers. However it is arguably Two Minutes Hate that offers up the record’s crowning achievement, with the track’s arena-ready chorus of “And I start to crave chaos, unleash this rage in us” providing the perfect anthem for 2020.

All in all this is a fantastic record, not only one of the Reader’s best to date but also an album that couldn’t be more of-the-moment.

Best tracks: Two Minutes Hate, Everything I Own, Yet Again

Albums also recommended:

Letter To You by Bruce Springsteen

From a record that was forged over 91 days to one that was crafted in just five. On the Boss’ 20th (yes 20th) studio album, he looks back on his life and career in profound and poignant fashion, crafting some of his best work in years. Recorded live with the ever-present E Street Band, songs like the stripped-back, Dylan-esque strum of One Minute You’re Here and the roaring Born-To-Run vibes of Ghost, show Brucey still has plenty left in the tank.

Song Machine, Season One: Strange Timez by Gorillaz

Damon Albarn has revived the output of his cartoonish creation through Gorillaz’s new Song Machine project, which sees the band releasing a new song each month. Now Season One collates all the tracks released throughout the year so far, featuring some iconic guest artists including Elton John, Kano, Robert Smith, Peter Hook and St. Vincent, as well as current favourites like Slowthai, Georgia and Octavian. It all makes for a fun, fascinating listen, that potentially offers an insight into the next evolution of music releases beyond the traditional album format - roll on Season Two!

Tracks of the Week

Been In My Dream by Dave Jakes

The former Lonely The Brave frontman has returned, with a new self-titled EP arriving in December. Been In My Dream offers the first taste of Jakes’ solo material, and it shows undeniably that he still has his flair for beautiful, heartfelt songwriting, that hits you right in the gut. Stunning!

Artifice by Sundara Karma

Reading-based indie darlings Sundara Karma mix things up on their brilliant new single, with the guitars taking a backseat to xylophones, synths and frontman Oscar Pollock’s distorted auto-tuned vocals.

Straight To The Morning by Hot Chip featuring Jarvis Cocker

Enrolling the legendary Jarvis Cocker to join them, Hot Chip’s latest dancefloor-ready single is “a disco anthem about going out, for a time when people really can’t.”

Teardrops by Bring Me The Horizon

With an apocalypse-inspired new album dropping later this week, Sheffield rockers Bring Me The Horizon have dropped the final teaser in the form of Teardrops. Continuing their trajectory back towards their heavier tendencies following their recent pop-detour, the track draws heavy Linkin Park comparisons blending alternative metal with a mainstream pop hook.

First Aid by Gus Dapperton

And finally this week, indie-pop sensation Gus Dapperton has already assured himself of a spot on my Albums of the Year list thanks to his incredible sophomore effort Orca, and one of the main reasons for that being the case is his track First Aid. Now released as a single with a striking, self-directed video, First Aid sees Gus confront head on (literally in the video’s case) his mental health issues, in what is still one of the most heartbreaking, emotionally-stirring, but ultimately uplifting songs I have heard all year. Check out the video above and definitely give Orca a listen if you haven’t already.

[teamkimsoekjinforever]

11 Questions

I was tagged by the dope af @karenpaage - thanks so much!

Rule 1: Post the rules. Rule 2: Answer the questions the person who tagged you asked, and write 11 new ones. Rule 3: Tag 11 people.

Your Questions

1.  What’s your favorite random fact that you know? Can be any subject you want, just teach me something new! 

Damn, I carry around so many it’s difficult to decide! Ummm, the name Wendy was created for the book Peter Pan. 

Fun fact you probs know but I like people who aren’t readers/lit nerds to know - The Three Brothers Story from HP7 was fucking ripped straight out of The Canterbury tales. It pisses me off to no end.

2.  If you could sit down and have lunch with one fictional character, who would it be and what would you want to talk about? 

Literally the most difficult questions! Probably someone like Elizabeth Bennett because we would have SO MUCH fun just being dicks to stupid guys. Jo from Little Women would definitely have to be with us though... so I’m gonna need like a fancy luncheon party. 

OR Vanessa from Atlanta. She is amazing - so gorgeous and strong and ok with not knowing how everything is gonna turn out and I want to be her best friend.

3.  Above question continued: same scenario, but with one real-life figure, living or dead. Who’d it be? 

Taika Waititi or John Boyega. No explanations needed.

4.  What’s your comfort piece of media? Can be a song, a movie, a show - something that brings you peace and/or that you go back to often. 

Doctor Who is the most comforting show to me, it seriously saved me from my depression countless times and I wouldn’t be alive today without it.

Sing Street is another, the music is just so amazing and it makes me cry in happy ways. Plus it’s my boyfriend’s favorite movie so I always think of the fun we have watching together.

5.  Favorite trope (either in fanfic or in actual writing/film)? 

I don’t read fanfic, otherwise this would be a way more fun answer, so I’d have to say the ‘meddling relative’/’misunderstood situation’. This seems lame but after reading Jane Austin it’s just so much fun! When I really fell in love with these tropes was reading/watching Atonement. What Briony does has such a horrible impact that I am so fascinated by the psychology behind it.

6.  Do you collect anything? If so, tell me about it! 

I collect books, vinyl albums, bluray steelbooks, and comics/graphic novels. I’ve also accumulated a lot of giant pandas over my lifetime because I love them.

7.  What’s one thing you love that people wouldn’t expect you to love? 

Newer pop music. I’ve always been such a music snob (media snob in general) so when I started college in 2011, One Direction just popped onto the US scene and people were astounded that I loved them. Sometimes I just want some fun junk in my earholes.

8.  What’s something you’d love to do but seems kind of ridiculous/out of your realm of possibility at the moment? 

TRAVEL! I am dying to go out of the country! I’d have to get a passport but I would love to see my friend in Sheffield and also go to Wales. I actually have a great job now and no longer living paycheck to paycheck but the fucking rona hit just when I got the job so I’m stuck in Kansas for now.

9.  If you could go on a dream vacation - all expenses paid, wherever you want  - where would you go? 

Tokyo. It is where my boyfriend and I talk about going the most. They have all our anime and cats and mountains, what else do I need!?

10. What’s your favorite/preferred streaming service? 

Hulu cos they got pretty much everything I need. However, HBO Max and Disney + are rising up as they add more content.

11.  Villains or heroes?

This is kind of a cop out, I’m so sorry, but it really depends. I LOVE an anti-hero but I would die for Spider-man (in any universe). Mostly, if it’s superheroes or sci-fi I love the heroes but in other films and books I usually love the villians - whether they are true villains or just assholes - people seem to give more thought to their characters so I always want more. Plus, I always feel I see my own thoughts/feelings paralleled in them.

My questions:

1. Have you ever broken any bones? If so how many and how?

2. What is your favorite cartoon? It can be current or from childhood.

3. If you could live in any fictional world what would it be and why?

4. What is your favorite snack?

5. If you could spend a day with ONE band member/solo artist, living or dead, who would it be?

6. Share your heritage! Do you have any favorite traditions or customs? I’d love to learn!

7. What ‘extreme’ activity would you do if you were given the opportunity?

8. Who are your favorite social activists? Current or dead, it doesn’t matter!

9. What is your favorite article of clothing? Why do you love it?

10. Do you have any unique hobbies? (anything but reading and movies/tv lol)

11. What is your dream job?

I don’t think I know 11 peeps but I’ll tag @kaybakat @blossoming--flower @cryyptic-darling @bradschemicalromance

[newtonsheffield]

Hi! I just read your fics in AO3 and I LOVE THEM!! You are such a good writer. Your work is literally the only thing that allows me to take a second to relax and have fun in this very stressful partials week :') Have you considered writing snippets of Kate and Anthony's honeymoon? I think it would be fun to see them both in that moment in time.

Hello! 

Thank you so much! I’m very glad that you enjoyed this series!! And I hope your stressful week has finished and you’re now having an easier time of it! (I’m sorry for not responding to this sooner I have been having a rather busy time of it recently, and I have some knitting to do. Funfact about me! I am I reasonably competent knitter! 

Okay, enough about me! Some others were also interested is seeing some of Anthony and Kate’s Honeymoon! 

Anon Asked: Honeymoon Anthony and Kate? Where do they go? What did they do? How was the wedding night?

Anon Asked: Kate and Anthony on their honeymoon! Please!

Now we saw a little of Anthony’s POV of this time in Saturday which y’all may or may not have read but should we perhaps check in with Kate?

It was very odd really, to have to consider your name when you introduced yourself. One would have thought a month after your wedding, you would be quite used to it, and yet, no. When she’d walked into work on the Monday morning after her wedding Anthony’s hand wrapped, yes perhaps a little possessively, around her waist, greeted by Lucy and then she’d heard it, Hermione Watson’s voice saying  “Mrs. Bridgerton is unavailable today I’m afraid. A family matter requires her attention, her assistant Miss Abernathy will return this call later, Sir.”  And Kate had startled a little, her head spinning towards the reception desk. Her heart leaping a little, a small smile coming to her face. 

And when she walked further into the office a soft whoosh escaped her, when she reached her office. For three years the nameplate on her door had read Katharine Sheffield and now someone had changed it, something she hadn’t even thought of. Katharine Bridgerton was engraved on shiny brass right there on the office door and she had to swallow down the inexplicable lump in her throat as Anthony kissed her cheek and whispered  “Have a very good day, Wife.”

Even as a little shiver went down her spine at the word wife. Obviously she’d known when she married Anthony that she was going to be his wife. She wasn’t an idiot after all. But she hadn’t really thought she’d find much difference in it. Surely, it couldn’t be any different? They lived together, they shared a car, they had a joint savings account, he had even hyphenated the last name of her dog at the veterinarian (though she was sure Anthony regretted it given his brother Colin now referred to him almost exclusively as Newton’s Daddy) their lives couldn’t be anymore intertwined than they were already, the ceremony was just a legal matter really. Clearly, she’d been quite wrong. Because when Anthony had tugged her hand and said Let’s sneak away Mrs Bridgerton and they’d escaped from the marquee giggling and trading kisses and stumbling over each other to get up the stairs, and his hands had shaken just a little when he’d undone the row of buttons down her back cursing slightly, and he’d laid her gently down and groaned I am so proud to be your husband Kate as she came undone around him, She knew her life had changed. 

But it would settle, she’d told herself. The shine would surely wear off, she’d thought, even when the little thrill rose in her again when Araminta Gunningworth, truly the worst woman imaginable, had called her Mrs Bridgerton. But it truly didn’t seem to. When they’d left for Switzerland three weeks later, she’d rolled her eyes when Anthony had said My Wife and I again and again and again, when they’d checked into their flight, when they’d checked into the hotel, to a waiter in a café. It was ridiculous, and yet her heart leapt every time. 

Every time the shiny new wedding band caught the light she had to bite back a smirk, some tiny possessive part of her thrilled at him being marked as hers. She’d never seen Anthony wear any jewellery in all the time she’d known him. Just his Father’s old Breitling. So she’d honestly assumed he wouldn’t want to wear a wedding ring, plenty of men didn’t and she hadn’t minded. Though when he’d asked to see some Men’s rings that would match her own her heart had practically beat out of her chest. And now he seemed to have developed a curious habit of covering her left hand with his own when it lay clutching the bedsheets, staring down at the way the bands tapped together softly. The thought of the way he stared down at her so intensely made her cheeks flush honestly. Truly this honeymoon was only making it worse. 

Even when the bickered for the entirety of their three hour hike because Anthony absolutely refused to admit that they should have gone back to the hotel for the forgotten map.  “I know exactly where we’re going Kate! I know these parts like the back of my hand!”  As it transpired, he did not, and they ended up rather lost.  “If only someone had said we should have gone back for the map.” Kate had muttered a little furiously.  “We Didn’t need a map, Kate! Are we or are we not back at the hotel now?”  “We should have been back 2 hours ago!” She’d said, tension building between them as they stood in the middle of their room, their eyes locked together. Before Anthony broke, tutting as he leapt forward their lips crashing together as their hands fumbled at clothing. Okay, maybe not that much had changed. 

I’m so sorry. This is basically a few hundred incoherent words        

[wknc881]

Band of the Week: Bring Me The Horizon

The first time I heard of Bring Me The Horizon (BMTH) was years ago with their debut record, Count Your Blessings (2006), when my brothers would listen to it and I loved their sound.  I got to see BMTH once at the Carolina Rebellion and boy, let me tell you, they put on one hell of a live show. They probably have one of the best stage performances that I have ever seen.

Bring Me The Horizon is a British rock band formed in Sheffield in 2004. They signed to Columbia Records exclusively in the United States. The band released their debut album, Count Your Blessings in 2006. Their sound was new for listeners and they were met with critical disdain. Critics may not have liked their album, but I loved their heavy hitting, ass beating sound. Their second release, Suicide Season (2008), was a creative, critical, and commercial turning point for the band. With later releases, they changed their style with more influences from classical, electronic, and pop music. BMTH is easily one of the most musically diverse bands I have ever listened to. They have changed their sound so much over the years of their existence and they are the only band (in my opinion) that can change that much and still make great music. Even though I am a fan of BMTH from their album Sempiternal to their first release, they never fail to keep fans on their toes with their evolution. I am willing to bet that they can make any type of album, and it will be an awesome album.

BMTH’s earliest influences were bands like At the Gates, Carcass, Pantera, Metallica, Every Time I Die, and genres such as death metal, grindcore, and emo. Their sound has developed from that starting point and now are influenced by progressive rock, post-rock, dubstep, and electronic. With their changes in influences, it can be seen that BMTH has always attempted to grow and change with each album, believing that they should be different.

Current Members:

Oliver Skyes (vocalist)

Matt Kean (bass)

Lee Malia (lead guitar)

Matt Nicholls (drums)

Jordan Fish (keyboard)

John Jones (touring musician) (rhythm guitar)

Discography:

Count Your Blessings (2006)

Suicide Season (2008)

There Is A Hell Believe Me I’ve Seen It. There Is A Heaven Let’s Keep It A Secret (2010)

Sempiternal (2013)

That’s The Spirit (2015)

Amo (2019)

Favorite Songs:

Happy Song

Drown

Sleepwalking

Hosptial For Souls

Chelsea Smile

Pray for Plagues

Have you seen BMTH? What is your favorite song by them?

Stay Metal,

THE SAW

[takemyheartapart]

photo 1: performing, there’s always sommat about being on stage that brings out the most joy in me, i miss it so much and i can’t imagine life without it and i’m hoping shit goes back to normal soon and i can actually get on stage.

photo 2: a photo from my clothing company called drop dead, if it weren’t for my mum giving me a £500 dollar loan back in 2005 to start it, it wouldn’t be where it is. i love fashion and clothes and it just means the world to me that people have supported it for so long.

photo 3: the boys in bring me, fuck who knows where i’d be without them. we all have our ups and downs but we’ve weathered so much together and i do not see my life without them, even when the band is finished i don’t see it without them in it.

photo 4: mum and dad! i wouldn’t be here without them, they’ve been here through some of the worst moments of my life and the best, i’m lucky to have such an amazing support system. 

photo 5: tom, my idiot baby brother whom i’d be lost without. he also has seen me through hell and been nothing but the best brother anyone could ever ask for.

photo 6: church: temple of fun - my barcade back in sheffield, one of the things i’m most excited about even if it’s currently closed cos of covid, it’s sommat i’ve wanted to do for years and i’m so happy i finally get to have a place where people can access good vegan food, play video games, have movie and music nights, it’s the best.

photo 7: oskar and luna! my babies, i love my dogs like people love their human children, woudn’t know know what to do without them.

photo 8: rebecca, my best friend, the girl i find myself falling in love with more and more as the days pass. i don’t know how life lead us to where we are, i don’t know how blessed i feel every single day getting to wake up and fall asleep with her, getting to just be around her; she’s so bright and beautiful and i truly don’t know how i found someone i can fall for so easily. 

photo 9: being vegan! it’s just core to who i am at this point, it’s been well over 12 years since i went vegan, and it’s super important to me to put as much care into supporting animal rights as it is about human rights, i just want animals to live and be happy without the fear of being eaten. 

[theparanormalperiodical]

Is Stephen King's IT Based On A True Story? The 7 Real Life Stories of Evil Clowns

With autumn just around the corner, that can only mean one thing: Halloween season is finally upon us!

But you can snort your pumpkin spices and layer your scarves all you want. There’s only one thing I am in anticipation for this autumn.

It’s the horror flicks.

Every October, a chaotic mix of horror films hit the cinemas, leaving us paranormal fanatics spoilt for choice.

But only when you cut out the rushed screen time plays that were written purely to coincide with the most wonderful time of the year, that is.

I’m not here to talk about crap, however.

I’m not here to bitch about clunky jumpscares, and the movies with more holes in a plot than in your prep school tights (“Mum, they’re fine!”).

I’m here to talk about IT Chapter 2.

The IT sequel – alongside Stephen King’s other horror hits – is set to complete one of the cinema phenomenons of this decade, and its influence on pop culture is just one echo of the incredible story the movies tell.

If you’ve been trapped in the sewers with Pennywise for the last 27 years, let alone the Clown Craze that’s followed us in and out of cinemas, here’s a quick rundown of the book/film:

A rag-tag group of misfits start noticing odd patterns in their small town. Namely, kids start to go missing. And this tends to happen roughly every 30 years, just like clockwork. Cue some freaky shenanigans evoked by an evil entity who is represented by an image of a clown/whatever you fear, and here we are.

Now, the book/films sits on this 27-years rule. It’s set between when they were young, and when they were several decades older and once again face It.

We last see It half kinda dying (but if there’s a sequel y’all know that’s BS) in the midst of the 1980s. And the new film brings us screeching back to the phenomenon that is once again haunting Derry. 

Like I said – and as you will well remember – when the last flick came out, there was a Clown Craze. There was this cultural obsession, even a criminal wave using clown masks and attire to scare the innocent bypassers. Viral videos were scored with Pennywise-esque thumbnails.

(I’m pretty sure I even went a club night that was clown themed…)

So, it got me thinking: have evil clowns ever actually existed? Has anything ever emulated the character that titled one of Stephen King’s most famous books?

Unfortunately – in more than one case – the answer is yes.

Why does the answer have to be ‘yes’.

In today’s edition of the Paranormal Periodical we are going to be discussing why we all hate clowns, the cases of actual evil clowns, and urban legends that echo these cases.

Let’s get spooky.

Why are we so afraid of clowns?

I’m pretty sure that no one in the history of ever has liked clowns. In fact, that’s actually a key part of the book.

Pennywise supposedly thinks children love clowns, and that it will entice them so he can take them away for his feeding purposes.

And believe it or not, Stephen King wasn’t the first guy to write an evil clown into literature.

Clourophobia – or the fear of clowns – is a common phobia, and has been played upon since the 19th century by the king of horror himself, Edgar Allan Poe.

And only a decade before King published It in the 1970s, several mock comic books hit the stores with ‘Evil Clown’ blaring across the cover. ‘Frenchy the Clown’ as he was known might not be the malovalent entity that is core to King’s novel, but he does echo the dark themes we pick so easily out with clowns.

Even academics have outlined our unease when it comes to these supposedly comical figures.

The University of Sheffield did a study which confirmed this universal fear of clowns today.

In particular, they deduced that children don’t like clowns as they are unknowable. The thick layers of makeup, the potential threat that could be disguised by jokes and silly clothing.

And why wouldn’t they be?

*Ok, this has nothing to do with like spooky shit but can I just air my thoughts right why and how do clowns exist now like surely we teach kids not to talk to strangers who act weird and you don’t know and that’s literally the purpose of clowns and like yall can say I’m a trigger libtard whatever but a lot of the basis to clown makeup must be based on blackface look at the lips and the hair or even trying to mock disabled people by how they act*

Even academic figures lie Wolfgang M. Zucker take this point further. Zucker claims there are strong similarities between clown figures and the cultural depiction of demons and other terrifying creatures.

Deathly white faces, the freakish features.

This is what makes Pennywise the Dancing Clown such a standout character.

And it’s also what makes the following real-life stories of evil clowns quite so distressing.

Here are the 7 cases of Evil Clowns that you have to hear about:

This might be the Paranormal Periodical, but there is nothing supernatural here. And its probably the lack of ghost-based legend that makes these evil clowns so like Stephen king’s iconic character.

And we start with probably the most horrific case: John Wayne Gacy, aka Pogo or Patches the Clown.

From 1972 to 1978, John Wayne Gacy murdered, tortured, and raped over 30 underage and young adult men. Most of the bodies were buried around his home, and some were even disposed in a nearby river.

He even made plans to fill the crawlspace in his home – where he had crammed over 20 corpses – with concrete and essentially make a new mass grave on top of it.

This twisted and depressing tale carries further into the innocent image his community impressed upon him.

Gacy frequently performed as his clown alter-egos at local parties, charity events, and at children’s hospitals. Even outside of this, he met a First Lady, was active in politics, and was even awarded the title of Precinct Captain for his services to the community.

And if all this wasn’t terrible enough, the reasoning behind his clowning days further darken his tale:

Gacy claims his clown alter-ego allowed him to regress into his childhood which was fraught with emotional and physical abused from his father.

And so, the ‘Killer Clown’ label has been bestowed upon this case.

Interested in hearing more? Check out the full story here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wayne_Gacy

Our next evil clown doesn’t stray too far from the predatory behaviour of John Wayne Gacy.

The man behind Klutzo The Clown – A. Paul Carlock – was charged with the possession of child pornography and of child molestation back in 2007.

Like Gacy, he was a force within the community, working as a police officer and a volunteer for the Big Brothers/Big Sisters scheme. It was even noted when he was alive that he had a fondness for children.

In fact, he was categorised as a ‘Christian clown’ before the accusations were brought to light.

He was hired as a police officer in 1973, yet they only found evidence (pictures on his laptop when he returned from an overseas trip) in 2007.

Upon finding the evidence of his predatory and paedophilic behaviour, he immediately began to show signs of illness, dying 39 days after his arrest. And its for this reason that his case is seen in a different light to mine.

The disgusting details tend to be overlooked as his death brought in a lawsuit regarding whether he was neglected and mistreated after his arrest.

Following on from this, we have Martin Evanick.

His clown alter ego, Vlad, certainly expressed a killer-clown vibe synonymous with Pennywise, but it seems his intentions didn’t actually stray to far from the character he sought to emulate.

This metal-band drummer pleaded guilty in 2013 to creating child pornography. He was also found prior to this to be a child molester and rapist.

Another clown to fit the bill of evil is actually a relatively recent case.

Back in 1990, a woman opened the door to a clown who promptly handed her balloons and a floral gift.

The clown then proceeded to shoot her, leaving her for dead.

For 27 years, there was no answer for this bizarre and deadly attack.

Well, until now, that is. Sheila Keen was charged with first-degree murder. She married the husband of the victim, and the later developed DNA evidence provided the key to the case.

Unfortunately, evil clowns don’t always act alone.

And it’s these next cases that vouch for this.

Across many countries in the last few years we have witnessed random groups of people dressed as clowns or donning clown masks who chase, harass, and even attack innocent people seemingly in broad daylight.

One of the most documented cases of this is actually from France. Back in 2014, the French were apparently terrorised by a group of clowns who physically attacked anyone who just so happened to get in their way.

One of these clowns was arrested for beating a pedestrian with an iron bar whilst clad in a clown costume.

A student even had a severe cut to his hand whilst defending themselves from a clown wielding a axe, and Schoolchildren were eve chased down the street by a clown following close behind with a chainsaw.

Shit bro.

But it was only in 2016 that the phenomenon was fully realised.

The 2016 Clown Sightings – which even feature on Wikipedia, now – summarise the frequent reports of people disguised as evil clowns.

However, as this is evidently a broad case, we cannot pinpoint the extent or nature of the ‘evil’.

For some it appears a practical joke, possibly even playing on the build up to the 2017 release of IT.

But the original cases have actually been traced back to 2013, from which a creepy clown was spotted in Northhampton. It was eventually found out to have been created by filmmakers to drive up traffic and fame for their Facebook page. In fact, they used the ‘sightings’ to evoke the fame they sought.

From scary clown pranks littering Youtube, to urban legends feeding on upvotes from Reddit, it appears it has not been grouped as an ‘evil’ or ‘criminal’ set of occurrences.

Even on October 25, news outlets in the US reported on threats of a potential ‘purge-like’ event carried out by clowns on Halloween. The only attack resembling this – which I assume was merely a hoax – was an attack carried out by 20 people in clown masks on a family in Florida.

No arrests were made.

There were many cases in the UK, but these only amounted to petty crimes, threats, and scaring people passing by.

But the widespread nature of it certainly confirms it as a phenomenon. 80 percent of US states witnessed this phenomenon, and the Wikipedia page is crawling with country-by-country listings of ‘killer-clown’ cases.

Do you remember the Clown Craze?

And do you have a personal tale to share about any creepy ass clowns?

Make sure you let me know!