#Music nerd

[eclairemaire]

the sound of music pt. 1

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader Category: Fluff Summary: Stranded in a 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, you make an unlikely companion as you bond over the sound of music. Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Swearing, fast-burn??? (idk), No mention of Y/N. Notes: This is part 1 of a possible 3-part mini-series. I hope everyone enjoys. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; all characters are just that, characters, and have no ties to their real-life counterparts.

playlist | part 2

You were sitting in a booth in a small 24-hour diner in the outskirts of a little town you couldn’t remember the name of, in the middle of nowhere. You had a shake in front of you, half finished, and a pile of unfinished fries on a plate, soaking up the remnants of grease that fell from your burger while you were eating earlier. 

The diner was mostly empty, a few people here and there, an older man sat at the bar top, he was stout, his face round and covered in sunspots and wrinkles that showed his age, he wore an old Carhartt coat over a flannel, with jeans and a pair of work boots caked in mud. There were a few teenagers in a booth farther down, who seemed to have just left a party: three girls and two boys. One of the girls looked to be about 18. She had mid-length, wavy brown hair, wore a purple Henley, a coat over it, and a pair of jeans with boots. Another looked about 17 or 18, her hair braided and resting on her shoulder. She wore a cable knit sweater and a long denim skirt with fluffy socks and chunky tennis shoes. The last girl looked to be the youngest and the least thrilled to be there, she had an aviator coat on over an old faded band tee, with baggy jeans, and tennis shoes. The boys were both dressed similarly in t-shirts with a flannel and a coat over top, and denim jeans and work boots. One was tall, possibly 6 feet, with dark skin and dimples. The other was about 5 feet 9 inches, with shaggy brown hair.

There were two waitresses whom you had seen, and presumably at least one cook in the kitchen; both were polite, considering it was well past midnight, and they were working the red eye shift. One was older, looked to be around her mid to late forties, with streaks of grey in her hair that were noticeable even pulled back into her bun, frail, with a stern face and crow's feet. The younger one was petite, her hair a dark auburn, and hanging in a braid down her back as she bounced around the diner when she was needed.

The diner itself was old and did not appear as though it had been redecorated since the late 80s, with black and white checkered floors, with cracking red vinyl booths, and chairs. The tables were scuffed stainless steel with rickety feet that made them move if you put too much weight on them.  The walls were painted white, but you could hardly see them from under all the posters of old music stars and various license plates that hung from the walls. The windows had neon signs in them, an open one hanging above one of the doors, and one that said ‘24 hour breakfast’ in bold lettering, another stating that they had fried pies. There was a juke box in the corner that was playing various artists as it shuffled from one song to another. It smelled like old coffee and fried oil.

Turning back to take a drink of your shake, you grab a map from your bag to see if there are any motels nearby that you could stay in, or at least charge your phone. You were still looking for a motel when you heard the sound of an engine shutting off faintly before the bell over the door to the diner rang, and in walked a new stranger. He was about your age, tall, with light brown hair that curled around his ears from underneath his ball cap, wearing a sweatshirt, and denim jacket, and khaki Carhartt work pants and cowboy boots. You noticed he looked slightly wet. Turning outside, you see that it has started to rain, and then a huge crack of thunder is heard overhead, and then the real downpour starts.

“Oh for the love of…” You curse as you see how hard it's coming down. “How the hell am I going to get anywhere now?” You mumble to yourself, shoving your face into your hands as you groan. 

The teenagers, seeing how hard the rain was starting to come down, decided it was time to head out. They waved over the younger waitress and paid their bill, and walked out the door and clambered into a Toyota 4Runner parked in the lot. The old man was next to leave, paying his bill and getting into a beat-up old Ford F-150. 

It was just you and the guy; he was sitting at the bar to the right of where you were sitting in your booth, looking over the menu. The younger waitress goes over to him, and he orders a breakfast plate and some coffee.

The older waitress comes to your table, “Need anything else, dearie?” She asks as she starts to pick up your plate of fries and your now empty shake glass.

“Yeah, how close is the nearest motel from here?” You request as you hand her some bills for your check.

“Oh,” she ponders as she takes the money, “The closest motel isn’t for at least 50 miles east of here.”

“Son of a bitch.” You curse after hearing the distance. “Uh, sorry.” You apologized to her as she looked at you in shock at your outburst. The guy at the bar just slightly turned to look at you from the corner of his eye, before his food was placed in front of him. 

The older waitress had gone and taken your dishes to the back and had placed your cash on your table with a receipt, when you sighed and dramatically let your head thunk against the table. “This is just fucking great. Stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with nothing but whats on my person.” You start to periodically thunk your head on the table now and then just to remind yourself how stupid of an idea it was to hitchhike around the country. You can hear the younger waitress trying to make conversation with the guy at the bar as he eats his food, but he doesn’t seem to be paying her any mind as he barely answers any of her questions. 

Deciding to give your head a break from smacking it against the table, you grab some change and go put something you enjoy on the jukebox, seeing as you’ll be stuck in the diner till the rain lets up. Walking up to the jukebox, you look over your options and try to decide between ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean or ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’ by Thin Lizzy. 

“Hey Stranger!” You hollered to the guy at the bar, he turns toward you and you make eye contact, his eyes are deep blue, and look almost as if they held a storm within them. “Pick a number, one or two.” You say, holding up a corresponding finger for each number. His expression was quizzical as he continued to look you in your eyes.

He pondered for a moment and let out a low hum before answering, “One.” His voice was deep a low timber that made you forget for a moment that he was responding to your inquiry. Shaking your head, you turn back to the jukebox and input the numbers for ‘American Pie’. Soon, you heard the opening lyrics and the opening chords.

“A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music Used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And maybe they'd be happy for a while”

Hearing the rhythm and the familiar lyrics wash over the diner with the cracks of thunder in the background and pounding of rain on the roof of the old diner, you start to sway and sing softly along with the music, now completely lost in your own world as the music takes over. When the second verse started, you opened your eyes and looked over towards the stranger as you sang along with Don.

“Did you write the book of love? And do you have faith in God above If the Bible tells you so? Now, do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him 'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym You both kicked off your shoes Man, I dig those rhythm and blues I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck But I knew I was out of luck The day the music died”

The stranger had a look in his eye that you couldn’t recognize as he sang the chorus with you.

“I started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ ”

He stood up and started to make his way over to you, his food and the waitress long forgotten.

“Now, for ten years we've been on our own And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone But that's not how it used to be When the jester sang for the king and queen In a coat he borrowed from James Dean And a voice that came from you and me Oh, and while the king was looking down The jester stole his thorny crown The courtroom was adjourned No verdict was returned And while Lenin read a book on Marx The quartet practiced in the park And we sang dirges in the dark The day the music died”

Standing in front of you, he started to sway with you to the beat, his head tilted down towards you, and a heavy glint in his eye as he sang and danced with you. Your mind still wrapped up in the music, you didn’t question why this very attractive stranger was suddenly very interested in what you were doing. You continued to sing your heart out along to the music and started rocking and stepping with the sway, your hands moving into the air.

“We were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ ”

It continued with you and him dancing around in that small corner of the diner, the rest of the world long forgotten, and you both drunk on the music. His hands had found their way around your waist, and he hooked his thumbs into the belt loops as you continued to sing.

“Helter skelter in a summer swelter The birds flew off with a fallout shelter Eight miles high and fallin' fast It landed foul on the grass The players tried for a forward pass With the jester on the sidelines in a cast Now, the halftime air was sweet perfume While sergeants played a marching tune We all got up to dance Oh, but we never got the chance 'Cause the players tried to take the field The marching band refused to yield Do you recall what was revealed The day the music died? We started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “

He picked up the next verse, his voice low as though he was singing just for you to hear, as he continued to sway.

“Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space With no time left to start again So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'Cause fire is the Devil's only friend Oh, and as I watched him on the stage My hands were clenched in fists of rage No angel born in Hell Could break that Satan spell And as the flames climbed high into the night To light the sacrificial rite I saw Satan laughing with delight The day the music died”

He had a smile on his face, it was small, nothing big and fake, but something that seemed so genuine. Your eyes closed after seeing it as you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, now both standing significantly closer together, voices low but still loud enough for you both to hear.

“He was singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “

You sing the chorus once more as he leans to place his forehead against yours.

“I met a girl who sang the blues And I asked her for some happy news But she just smiled and turned away I went down to the sacred store Where I'd heard the music years before But the man there said the music wouldn't play And in the streets, the children screamed The lovers cried and the poets dreamed But not a word was spoken The church bells all were broken And the three men I admire most The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost They caught the last train for the coast The day the music died”

His eyes had closed as he now seemed fully relaxed, singing with his heart on his sleeve. Both of your voices were low, and you finished the rest of the lyrics.

“And they were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “ They were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die’ “

Once the song finished, you were slightly out of breath and leaning against one another, and it seemed as though you both had known each other for years before this moment. He huffed out a small laugh, his forehead still pressed to yours, you felt his breath fan you face as he shifted his hands from your hips, unhooking his thumbs from your belt loops to wrap them around your lower back, and moving his head to rest on top of yours as he lightly hugged you. Your arms had moved from around his neck to wrap around his midsection as you rested your head against his chest, listening to his breathing and the beating of his heart. You both stayed like that for a little over a minute before he started to pull away. You let go and feel your arms drop back down to your sides as he placed his into the pockets of his coat.

“Hi,” He said after a moment of you both looking at each other and digesting what just happened.

“Hi.” You say your voice hushed as realisation started to crash over you as to what you and this man had just done. The music had consumed you so wholly that you just adhered yourself to this man almost as soon as he had come up to you. You could feel the heat moving up your neck and resting high on your cheeks and the tips of your ears as you darted your head down to try and hide your embarrassment at your actions. The man, who you still had no idea as to what his name was, placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head back up, so he could see your face. You noticed his face seemed to mirror your own in the sense that he was also heavily flushed from the events that had just transpired.

“Why don’t you and I talk while I finish my food?” He asked, his voice gentle, as he removed his finger from under your chin. You nod, too afraid your voice would crack if you tried to speak. He turned to go back to his spot at the bar, as you scamper over to where your bag sits in the booth you previously occupied. Once you had your bag in hand and you double checked you had everything, you walked over to where he sat at the bar, and placed your bag against the base of the stool, as you sat down and turned to face him.

He had somehow finished his food in the time frame between you getting your stuff and him coming back over; now all he had left was a mug of coffee. He had his left arm propped up on the counter, and he was turned to face you, where you sat to his right. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself, “I’m Lewis.”

You take his hand in yours and give him a polite but firm handshake, and you also introduce yourself. He gives your hand a slight squeeze before he drops it, his attention fully on you. “So what are you doing out here?”

“I’ve been traveling for a few months, going from place to place. This is where my last ride decided to drop me off before going on their way.” You reply, your tone light, as you start to fiddle with a thread on your sleeve. “What about you? What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” You question.

“I’m headed home, just finished a job, and didn’t want to fly, so I figured I’d take the scenic route.”

“This is the scenic route?” You laugh, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but this is probably one of the least scenic areas in all of the states.” He laughs at your statement, it’s a genuine laugh. You like it, he kinda sounds like he’s in pain, but he has this smile on his face that shows he’s not in any physical pain whatsoever.

“You’re right, but hey, if I didn’t go this way, I wouldn’t have met you.” He was still smiling, and his cheeks were slightly flushed again. “You look so delighted when you’re immersed in music.” He voices as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then he rests his hand there.

Leaning into his hand, you respond, “So do you. Music is one of life's greatest gifts, expressing yourself and your thoughts in a form that others can enjoy, while having an outlet for your emotions, it’s exhilarating.”

“I don’t think there’s a better way to put it.” He murmurs. 

You both continue to talk for quite some time, everything going by in a blur as you share experiences and stories of how music has affected your life. The moment fades when he gets a call, he stands as he grabs his phone and puts it to his ear, and he walks over to another area of the diner. When he comes back over to where you were sitting, he looks disappointed.

“I have to head out, something came up at home and I’m needed home sooner than anticipated.” He stood in front of you as he reached for your hand to fiddle with your fingers. 

“I enjoyed talking with you, and would love if we could continue to keep having these conversations.” 

“Lewis, I would love to keep having these conversations, but I’m not sure how reliable I’d be with a steady form of communication right now.” He looked so dejected at what you said as though you’d sucker punched him in the gut. “It’s not that I wouldn't love to communicate, it’s just that my phone is almost always dead, and I’ve been hitchhiking for the past three months. I don’t even know when I’ll be back home.”

He looked at you for a moment, and then it was like a light bulb turned on in his head; his eyes lit up so much. “Come with me. I’ve got room, my truck is big enough for us both, and I have a spare room in my house that's not being used for anything.” He looked like a golden retriever in that moment.

“Are you sure? Lewis, you’ve only known me for a few hours, and you’re inviting me to move in with you?” You gave him an incredulous look. He nodded so enthusiastically, you thought his head was about to detach from his neck.

“Of course I’m sure. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.” He grabbed your hand as you stood from the stool and picked up your bag. Once you reached the door leading out of the diner, he dropped a bomb you weren’t prepared for. “Plus, you don’t care that I’m famous.” He said it nonchalantly, and you froze for a second, and then did a double-take.

“I beg your finest pardon!”

[tehcherrya]

Went to see my local state symphony play the soundtrack to Fellowship of the Ring!! :D

It was absolutely amazing, seeing the work of Howard Shore, along with the choral lyricism done by Fran Walsh, just surround your ears, and watching the movie felt like a whole other magical experience.

Also mini Legolas got to come too!

[deep-down-in-drowsy-town]

One Song in Every Language

Okay, tumblr. Let's try something.

I want to make a playlist with one song in every single language. Of course, this is impossible- the spotify playlist limit is something like 5,000- but I want to try. Of course, I can't do this alone, and so I'm sharing the project with the entire online language nerd/ music nerd community. Together we can celebrate linguistic diversity- and find some really cool music :)

Here's how it works. This spreadsheet will document every song and language represented. When you want to add a song, first look in the spreadsheet to see if that language is already represented. If it isn't, add the song to the playlist, and then add it to the spreadsheet.

What counts as a language? This is, as we all know, a fundamentally political question (Russian/ Ukrainian? Hindi/ Urdu? "Chinese" and its "dialects"...) We don't have to solve those debates here. My thinking is: the point is to celebrate linguistic diversity in as many forms as possible. If you can make a reasonable argument for why a song and its linguistic variety should be represented, go ahead and add it.

Yes, this means conlangs count (cause conlangs are SICK!) This also means dead languages count- throw in all the Latin and Classical Nahuatl you like. Glossolalia (à la Sigur Ros) and semi-linguistic scat-esque nonsense (à la Kobaian)? Sure, why not!

I'm calling this one song in every language, but we also want to highlight small and minority languages. So maybe we don't want ten different French songs, but if there are two or three different artists singing in Sami (especially different varieties of Sami), throw it in!

Let's make this awesome. Let's make this huge. Spread it around to every language nerd and music geek you know.

Thanks, dankon, merci, etc :)

[puttingthesickinforensic]

lifting in my one of my band tees and getting the approval from random old guys lol

[purplestainedglass]

[rakelrambles]

study tip: if you want to listen to music and don’t want to be distracted but also don’t feel like listening to instrumental music, listen to music in a language you really don’t understand at all.

i’ve been listening to french jazz and really liking it because while i don’t understand the lyrics the voice and instruments still sound really nice!

[eclairemaire]

the sound of music pt. 2

playlist | part 1

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader Category: Fluff Summary: Stranded in a 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, you make an unlikely companion as you bond over the sound of music. Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Swearing, fast-burn??? (idk), No mention of Y/N, Reader is a little slow on the uptake, Self-degrading, saying the Lord's name in vain(for religious people). Notes: This is part 2 of this series. I hope everyone enjoys. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; all characters are just that, characters, and have no ties to their real-life counterparts.

Lewis still had hold of your hand as he pushed out the door of the diner into the pouring rain and toward his truck, completely ignoring your outburst. Once you were both settled in the vehicle, him in the driver's seat and you in the passenger seat, you turned to face him, a grave expression on your face, as you took in his facial features more acutely. He was attractive, but you knew that already, his eyes that dark, stormy blue. After staring at his face for so long, he started to flush and look sheepish, and that's when you started to recognise him for seemingly the first time since you met him earlier in the day. 

Lewis watched as astonishment and realisation started to fill your expression, until you were openly gaping at him. “Holy shit,” it was a whisper, hardly sounded like you meant to say it at all and then louder “Holy shit, sweet baby jesus…” Your swearing continued for a solid two minutes, your head was in your hands as your elbows rested on your knees, and you looked like you were contemplating your whole existence. 

Lewis was very amused, watching you have a slight existential crisis in the passenger seat of his Tacoma. After a minute of watching you contemplate, he put his key in the ignition and started the car, before putting in an address into the navigation. “Buckle up,” he muttered as he started to put on his seatbelt.

The rumble of the engine and his speaking seemed to break you out of your downward spiral. “Oh my fucking lord, I’m living every sixteen year olds dream right now,” your voice was a murmur as you went through the motions of buckling up and plugging in your phone to charge. “It makes so much sense why that waitress was flirting with you.” He laughed, the one where he sounded like he was in pain, as he started to reverse out of his parking spot before turning onto the road.

“Thank you, by the way, for asking me what song you should turn on. Saved me the trouble of telling her I wasn’t interested,” he spoke, eyes now focused on the road.

“Oh, you’re welcome, you seemed uncomfortable, just thought you could use an out of the conversation, she clearly couldn’t take a hint,” you reply as you go to grab a book out of your bag to read while he drives. 

The conversations dwindled from there; it wasn’t quite silence, the navigation gave directions here and there, and there was some quiet contemporary music playing in the background. It was far from awkward; you were both content to share the space as you both embarked on a journey.

At some point, you had fallen asleep, and you were woken up by Lewis, who had stopped at a gas station to refill the tank and get some food. 

“Hey, sleepy head,” He smiled at you as you opened your eyes. It was bright now, but the sun wasn’t high in the sky yet, meaning it was still before noon. “Thought you might want to get something to eat and to maybe use the restroom before we continue on.”

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” You let out a quiet yawn as you stretched your arms above your head. You get out of the car to take care of business and to grab some food. Looking at the sign, you saw he had stopped at a 7/11, it looked to be one of the less-shitty ones that you had seen throughout your time hitchhiking. 

After using the restroom and refilling your water bottle and grabbing some of the shitty gas station food you walk back over to the truck. Lewis had just finished pumping the gas when you walked up. “You need me to drive the next leg?” You ask as he turns to look at you before wiping his hands on his pants. “No offence, but you look dead on your feet.”

“Do you even know how to drive?” His voice had a teasing lilt to it as he watched your expression change from a smile to affronted.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been driving since I could sit in a go-kart.” You put your finger to his chest in an accusing manner before pushing slightly, and he rocked back onto his heels as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Ok, ok, I believe you.” He digs the keys out of his pocket to hand them to you, “I’ll be back in just a moment.” With that, he heads toward the entrance of the gas station, and you go around to the driver's seat. When you get in, you put the key in the ignition and adjust the seat to your height. You put on a ball cap, from inside his truck, not really paying attention to which one. So you don't have to deal with your hair. You connect to the truck's Bluetooth and turn on ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ by Frank Sinatra and Antônio Carlos Jobim. You’re singing along when Lewis opens the passenger door. 

“Tall and tan and young and lovely The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, each one she passes goes "aah" When she walks, she's like a samba That swings so cool and sways so gentle that When she passes, each one she passes goes "ooh" Ooh, but I watch her so sadly How can I tell her I love her? Yes I would give my heart gladly But each day, when she walks to the sea She looks straight ahead, not at me”

You smile at him and pause the music, and look towards him as he settles into the passenger seat. He turns to look at you after finally settling, and he sees the hat that you're wearing and cracks a large grin. 

“Are you wearing my hat?” he asks.

“I mean, I just grabbed one from in here,” you gesture to the interior of the truck. “I assume it's your hat. I didn’t want to get mine from my bag.” You say as you take the hat off to look at it. It was one of his Mack truck hats that had a bulldog on it, you smile to yourself before putting it back on your head, and giving him a smirk and a wink before you turn the music back on and pull out of the gas station lot. 

You continue to sing softly under your breath as you drive. After maybe 30 minutes of doing whatever on his phone, Lewis falls asleep.

It isn’t until a few hours later that he wakes up, you don’t notice whats so ever, still singing under your breath as you tap along to the beat of the song playing. That’s when he noticed the song playing for the first time, ‘A Dog’s Adventure’.

“Dance, feels like another life Go through days to see only black and white Take me to gold trees out the windows Like me 'cause I like you Let's watch water turn blue We're just dogs out in the street, ooh”

He couldn’t help but admire you in all your chaotic beauty. You still wore his hat, covering your sleep-mussed hair, and at some point during his nap found a pair of his golf oakley’s that looked a touch too big for your face. You were still in the clothes you were wearing at the diner, but you had shed a layer or two since then, now just in a faded t-shirt covered in oil stains and a pair of jeans that had loads of paint stains on them and cowboy boots. The light from the afternoon sun was hitting your face in a way that made your skin glow, and reflected in your eyes that he could faintly see them through the sunglasses.

When you finally noticed he was awake, it was just after the song had ended, you sent a beaming smile in his direction, and reached out to pause the next song before it even really started.

“Hey, how was your nap?” You grab a water bottle out of one of the cup holders and hold it towards him. “You were sleeping like a log, tried to wake you up earlier when I stopped to refill the tank, you didn’t so much as move a muscle.” He took the water bottle from you, and you moved your hand back to resting on the bottom of the steering wheel.

“What song were you listing to just a moment ago?” He asked acting oblivious as he took a swig from the bottle.

“Oh, did you enjoy it? It’s called ‘A Dog’s Adventure’, it’s by an indie band called Atta Boy. I’m going to one of their shows in September.” You reply, completely oblivious to his scheming as he hides a smirk behind another swig of his water bottle.

“They haven’t released much music, but I think the quality of their music makes up for it.” You say with a smile, the compliment so genuine, he almost didn’t have the heart to break the news to you.

“Do you know who wrote the song?” He was trying so hard to suppress his smile. You looked over at him with a look that said ‘Of course I do’.

“Yeah, their drummer wrote it while they were still in high school.” He was impressed but also so confounded by you, still not putting the pieces together. “Ya’ know his name's Lewis, too. I never really bothered learning their last names. He was a cute kid. I found the video online, back when I still lived with my parents. Glasses, a little bit of baby fat in his cheeks.” 

Lewis couldn’t believe what he was hearing, you still didn’t realise that he was the very quote unquote kid you were describing.

“Sweetheart…” He said with an exasperated sigh.

“Huh? What? Why are you calling me Sweetheart all a sudden?” You gave him a glance, your eyes held confusion as you looked towards him. He gave you a look. “No. Don’t you dare!” You jab a finger towards him. “I am driving. Do not give me that look. I don’t think I can handle you dropping a bomb like that while I’m driving. We’re putting a pin in this, and we can continue at the next stop.” Your words were final, and you punctuated the end of the conversation by turning the music back on and turning up the volume. ‘Linger’ by The Cranberries is now playing through the truck's speakers.

An hour later, you pull into a parking spot at a rest stop. You roll the windows down slightly before turning off the truck and taking the keys out of the ignition, and stuffing them into your pocket.

Turning to Lewis, you look at him as you take his sunglasses off your face to rest them on the bill of the hat you wore. You cross your arms over your chest as he also turns to face you, resting his arms on the center console, looking very amused. 

During the hour after he woke up and you arriving at the rest stop two more songs by Atta Boy had cycled through your playlist and each time he’d get a smug expression on his face, that slightly made you want to smack him on the shoulder. 

You gather all your mental strength as you prepare yourself for the question you’re about to ask him. “Are you the drummer for the band Atta Boy?” He nods his head, a grin starting to stretch across his face. “And you're also the same guy who played Bob in Top Gun?” He nodded again, his grin now like a cheshire cat, as a mortified expression overcame your face. 

“I’m such a fucking idiot, how the hell did I not recognise you?” Your voice started soft. “I mean come on your fucking GORGEOUS! What the fuck is wrong with me?” Your voice grew louder the longer you questioned the usefulness of your brain.

“It was quite endearing hearing your unfiltered opinion about my band, and you not knowing who I was when we met.” Lewis interjected. You looked at him with a look of renewed embarrassment.

“I talked about how cute you looked as a high schooler. I said that to your face. I never thought I’d actually meet you. Lord knows I’m just as delusional as the next person. But hell, I somehow ended up in your car." You pause, "Oh my god, I’ve been driving you around for the past seven hours. I need a walk.” With that being the end of your rant you grabbed his keys out of your pocket set them on the center console near where he was resting his arms and then proceeded to what could only be hurling yourself out of the truck like your ass was on fire.

Lewis just looked from where you were once sitting to where you were now pacing around the rest stop through the windshield. Deciding it was probably better to let you figure out your feelings, he went through the motions of a rest stop break, restroom, brief walk, snack, and getting water. You were still pacing when he got back to the truck, but you now had your phone held up to your ear and seemed to be talking to someone on the phone, your other hand was making dramatic motions as you wore a hole into the ground from your pacing.

Getting his own phone out he called Danny, it rang once before he picked up. “Hey man what’s up?” Danny asked through the line.

“I might have made a spontaneous decision that may affect me for the rest of my life.” Lewis said his voice not hiding his amusement.

“What did you get a tattoo or something on your drive back to Cali?” He could hear the smile in Danny’s voice.

“Or Something…” Lewis trailed off as he looked at you still on the phone, your expression exasperated, you still had his hat and sunglasses on, the sunglasses were sliding down the bridge of your nose slightly, and you had since turned the cap backwards.

“Whoa, what did you do? You didn’t like shave your head right, like Sebastion, your designer would be so pissed if you did that, hell I’d be mad if you did that, your hair is amazing man.”

“I met someone.” Lewis said his voice fond.

“You met someone… Is this like a ‘Lewis Pullman Movie Star’ met someone, or a Lewis ‘Let me be’ met someone?” Danny asked, his voice was inquisitive and slightly cautious.

“Both, you’ll get to meet ‘em when you visit next month. Hopefully,” he tacked on at the end as he watched you put your phone into your pocket and plop yourself onto the ground a moment later.

“Meet them? Are you taking them home like they’re a stray?” Danny asked voice incredulous. “Did pick someone up off the street?”

Lewis seemed to finally start feeling sheepish, “Maybe?”

“Maybe what do you mean ‘Maybe?’ What does that mean? Did you really pick someone off the side of a street and decide they needed to come with you? I know you have a heart of gold but they could be a serial killer!” Danny seemed extreamly concerned now.

“They’re not gonna kill me,” Lewis said when he saw you start approaching the truck again. “Anyway, I gotta go talk later. Bye.” And with that, he ended the call just as you got into the passenger seat.

[greensparty]

Remembering Brian Wilson 1942-2025

Sad news that musical genius (and I don't use that term lightly) Brian Wilson has died at 82. In the same week we lost Sly Stone, we've now lost another musical innovator who came up in the 1960s.

Wilson in the studio circa 1960s

Along with his brothers Carl (1946-1998) and Dennis (1944-1983), he co-founded The Beach Boys. They brought their surf pop sound to the masses. My introduction to the band was actually "California Girls". After hearing the David Lee Roth cover in 1985, I discovered the original. Shortly thereafter, I picked up the 45 single of their 1985 song "Getcha Back". In the years that followed they did a duet with The Fat Boys on "Wipeout" and "Kokomo" introduced them to a new generation. I had read that Paul McCartney was highly influenced by The Beach Boys' magnum opus Pet Sounds and that inspired him with The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper. I, then, went out and got Pet Sounds. Wilson’s musical genius truly reached its peak with the amazing songwriting, craftsmanship, and orchestrations coming together in this pure pop masterpiece. I’m not even the biggest Beach Boys fan in the world, but I can see the genius (and influence) in this album! “God Only Knows” is my personal favorite! Side note: McCartney can be heard chomping carrots on the album. I also got their 2003 Sounds of Summer compilation.

Sir Paul and Wilson circa 2006

McCartney had said that "God Only Knows" is his favorite song of all time and it brings him to tears. Hard not to cry to it, especially as it played during the end montage of Boogie Nights. McCartney performed that song with Wilson in concert once. There was a lot of overlap between Wilson and The Beatles. He and John Lennon partied in the 70s. Wilson and George Harrison had talked about doing a collaboration which never happened, but Wilson performed "My Sweet Lord" at the George Fest tribute concert. Wilson sang backup on Ringo Starr's album Time Takes Time.

In addition to his work with The Beach Boys, his solo music was significant too. 2004 saw the release of Brian Wilson Presents Smile, in which he re-recorded the unfinished Beach Boys album from 1967. It was worth the wait!

He appeared in a ton of documentaries including Echo in the Canyon. Last year, Frank Marshall and Thom Zimny did the documentary The Beach Boys. While it was good, I wanted more of that reunion of the band members they showed towards the end. Wilson's life also got the narrative film treatment with 2015's Love & Mercy, in which Paul Dano played him in the 1960s and John Cusack played him in the 1980s. Worth checking out!

The link above is the obit from Hollywood Reporter.

[figgsandciggs]

If I could go back in time I would’ve told me one month ago to never see them front row bc know I can’t listen to them without crying.

[shoulderscars]

I never liked the whole "musicians understand and love music better than non-musicians" argument, but I (violinist) was playing 'Concerning Hobbits' and...it was so pure. I can't get over the feeling of actually playing it. It beat the feeling of listening to it :')

[vengefulmariner]

sherri dupree flicker posts! + some eisley ofc

[vengeancevixen]

Love how Spencer & Brendon are such music nerds! Spencer calling Brendon to help him think of a name of a song. They are so cute.

[justtheclippy]

Hiii Amanda! Quick question, what’s your favorite song?

Impossible question. I'm one of those music freaks who is listening to music 24/7 and feels an deep, profound, nerd level connection to songs in general it'd be hard to choose a favorite.

Instead I'll put my likes on random and give you the first few that come up:

- Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

- Sabor a Mí by Eydie Gormé

- C'mon Baby, Cry by Orville Peck

- Sun and Moon by Anees

- Chronosaurus by Stray Kids

- Santé by Stromae

[djokeeryme]

✨Deep Diving into Djo Songs with me✨

Today: Personal Lies

Hiiii, I'm just a music nerd who loves picking apart songs, overanalyzing lyrics, and trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind the sounds we love. Sometimes it's profound, sometimes it's chaotic, but either way, it's fun.

Music isn't just something to listen to. It's a story, an emotion, a whole experience that changes depending on who's hearing it. This breakdown is just my take-how I interpret the song, what stands out to me, and what I think it's really saying. You might see it totally differently, and that's the beauty of music.

▶️ Play Personal Lies while reading this. ▶️

Personal Lies is a track by Djo, the musical project of Joe Keery. It was released on August 30, 2019, as part of his debut album, Twenty Twenty.

This song is hypnotic, a little eerie, and packed with introspection. It pulls you into a spiral of self-deception, avoidance, and the quiet unraveling that happens when pretending starts to feel easier than facing reality.

Now, lets break it down. ☺️

📍Denial as a Defense Mechanism

"Lately I feel like l've been losing my mind / I'm acting funny, I keep refilling my wine."

Right from the start, this song doesn't disguise what it's about. It's an admission of self-destruction, but with a twist-it's not presented as dramatic or tragic. It's casual, almost dismissive, like someone acknowledging that something is wrong but refusing to do anything about it.

The repetition of refilling wine isn't just a random detail. It represents avoidance. The narrator isn't processing emotions; they're distracting themselves, choosing comfort over clarity.

We all have our version of this. Maybe it's staying busy, scrolling endlessly, or throwing ourselves into work, relationships, or mindless habits instead of facing what we don't want to think about.

📍The Moment of Internal Conflict

"I fail to notice when I push past my limit / And then I lied about it, said I didn't."

This is where the self-awareness kicks in, but it doesn't change anything. The narrator knows they've gone too far, but instead of admitting it, they rewrite reality to fit a version that feels easier.

It's one of the most painfully relatable lines in the song. That feeling of knowing you should take a step back, knowing you're pushing yourself too hard, knowing something is wrong-but telling yourself, No, I'm fine. I can handle this.

📍Seeking Attention Without Asking for Help

"Fake aggravation is your way to be seen / You summon every single muscle on the team."

Not all frustration is genuine. Sometimes, it's a performance-not in a manipulative way, but in a way that comes from longing to be noticed.

This line highlights a subtle but incredibly real behavior. The idea of acting annoyed, irritated, or upset not because you necessarily feel that way, but because it's the only way you know to express that you need attention.

Think of the times you've been short with someone for no reason, secretly hoping they'd check in. Or when you've made a passive comment, wishing someone would pick up on it.

This song understands that feeling without directly calling it out, making it feel even more intimate.

📍The Emotional Collapse-When Pretending Stops Working

"Do you care? Not at all."

No big emotional climax. No resolution.

Just numbness.

The outro repeats, creating a hypnotic, detached feeling that mirrors emotional exhaustion. It's not a question anymore-it's a statement. The narrator is convincing themselves over and over, that nothing matters.

It's the most haunting part of the song because it captures that final stage of emotional avoidance, where feelings stop being loud and just fade into the background.

📍Final Reflection

Personal Lies isn't just about deception. It's about what happens when avoiding the truth becomes second nature, when pretending isn't a choice anymore but just the way you operate.

It's about knowing something is wrong and choosing distractions instead of solutions. It's the moment when self-awareness kicks in…but not hard enough to change anything.

It's pretending you're fine so well that you start to believe it. And if you believe it, then maybe it's true. Right?

Except it's not.

This song understands that exhaustion doesn't always look like falling apart. Sometimes, it looks like going through the motions, playing along, keeping everything at a steady hum…just loud enough to keep the real feelings quiet.

Maybe that's why it feels so haunting. Because everyone has done this at some point. Everyone has ignored the obvious signs, has put off dealing with something, has convinced themselves everything is fine when it isn't.

And when you do that for long enough, eventually, those emotions don't disappear. They just stop feeling real.

Hope you enjoyed this episode of "music makes me question everything."

If you made it this far, congrats!!! you're officially part of the club where we spiral over sound and call it a hobby.

Let's do it again soon. 😘✌️

[rakelrambles]

hello! i thought i’d do a little introduction post to anyone who might stumble upon my account

my name is rakel, i am 21 and from sweden. i have just started a chemistry course at university, which is taking up most of my time. when i’m not studying, i like to read, sew, play instruments and sing in my choir.

i am currently living at home with my parents but i lived in a different city from 2022-2024 when i went to music school for two years. it was a wonderful experience but i am planning on keeping my music a hobby and eventually working in STEM as i intend to start an engineering programme next autumn.

the academic year 24/25 is a sort of year ”in between” for me, maybe not a gap year per se, because i have been both studying (astrophysics) and working (as a teacher sub) during the past term and now i am studying full time. i have, however, not been on any clear academic path as i am not studying a programme.

so that’s a little (or a lot) about me! this blog (are they called blogs on tumblr?) will probably consist of musings and pictures from my everyday experiences and i hope you stick around!

take care!