#Thirty Tigers

[dustedmagazine]

Sarah Shook and the Disarmers — Revelations (Abeyance/Thirty Tigers)

Photo by Brett Villena

“I built my life on the edge of a knife when nobody believed that I could,” rasps River Shook, the tough but tender leader of this kicking cowpunk band. The song is “You Don’t Get to Tell Me How to Feel,” a boot-stomping statement of purpose, as the guitars flare,  the drums bolt upright like a scared horse, and Shook makes the case for constructing their own narrative in no uncertain terms. 

Shook came of age in Bible belt America, forbidden as a child from any contact with secular music.  Still these things have a way of back-ending.  The artist learned the piano, then the guitar, then formed a series of bands under their birthname Sarah Shook; they switched to River a few years ago as a personal identifier but continue to record under the old name.  Their music, however, remains sharp and unsentimental, punk in energy, country in its twang and sway.  Move over Beyoncé, you’re not the only one pushing out the boundaries of what Americana can represent. 

And so, Shook delivers gender inclusive busted romances in old-school juke joint style. Pedal steel flies through the jangling twang of “Backsliders” while an in-the-pocket country band keeps two-stepping time.  There’s a cheating partner and a wounded one, just like in all the old songs, but the trick is neither one is a dude.  “I’m a real piece of shit and you’re a vixen in a dress/I thought we was moving on/I was wrong I guess,” Shook cracks, out of the corner of their mouth, like Johnny Cash but different. 

The very real pleasure of this collection of songs comes in how the love of tradition collides with raucous rule-breaking energy.  You’ve got your outlaw country, sure, but did any of those guys write a song called “Motherfucker” and carry it off?  Shook does.   

Not every song stomps.  Some are plaintive and yearning, like the lovely “Jane Doe,” others full of anthemic slow-rocking swirl like “Nightingale.”  But all insist on direct emotional engagement and brutal honesty and acceptance of a very specific point of view.  River Shook is definitely not your grandma’s idea of a country powerhouse, but they are one all the same.   

Jennifer Kelly

[luuurien]

Lupe Fiasco - DRILL MUSIC IN ZION

(Abstract Hip Hop, Jazz Rap, Boom Bap)

Recorded in just three days, Lupe Fiasco's latest album is his shortest to date that distills all his best qualities into one short, magnificent listen. Though its quick creation makes it difficult for many of its ideas to be fleshed out, what's here is already fantastic as is.

☆☆☆½

Born from a failed challenge to record an album in 24 hours, the fact that Lupe Fiasco made DRILL MUSIC IN ZION in just three days is still a massive achievement. Over the years, Fiasco's music took a significant turn towards the sanctimonious and haughty, grand and weighty album concepts held back by half-baked production and underwhelming lyricism that caused albums like Lasers and Food & Liquor 2 to somehow be both overstuffed and uninteresting. Whatever his reasons were for trying something more fast and fluid, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION benefits immensely from it, refusing to let Fiasco fall into the same traps of his past releases and forcing him to get his ideas out quicker than ever before. The resulting album is one of his best in years, a quick and memorable collection of bouncy, jazz-tinged boom bap and trap where his focus on reflection and clarity allows him to be more charismatic and powerful as a rapper than he has been in a long time. It's Fiasco at his most urgent and engaged, and that's always what's made his music shine brightest. Produced by himself and longtime collaborator Soundtrakk, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION stays within Fiasco's comfort zone while giving just enough definition to it all for the album to bring a whole new energy entirely. The beats are still driven by either chunky boom bap samples or oil-slicked trap drum programming, but he flows on it so confidently that it's in a whole different league compared to what he was doing in the past, coming out swinging with lead single AUTOBOTO, its stereo-shaking bass and elegantly placed guitar and synth one wild and exciting way to kick the album's release off. The good majority of the songs here manage to be just as strong and memorable, too, whether it's in the murky groove of GHOTI and its smoky woodwinds or SEATTLE's downtempo beat and driving electric guitar melody, Fiasco not worried about doing anything but making strong and powerful songs that are tons of fun to listen to. With less time to write than usual, his bars come out more varied and imaginative than ever, from the clever wordplay on PRECIOUS THINGS ("Give scissors to my paper, we not on the same page / We was bat, catcher, and pitcher, now you don't even wave," he sneers) to the devastatingly dark closer ON FAUX NEM where he contends with drill and rap culture - how he wishes that all the stories of murder and revenge in rapper's lyrics were all lies - and how the music industry and commercialized art play into those destructive cycles, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION not only a personal rumination on things for Fiasco but a larger crash course in how artists and their fans interact with one another. None of it ever gets touched on too deeply, but it's seeing him dig into these ideas without being so heavy-handed like on previous projects that makes it such an effective listen. That's also what holds DRILL MUSIC IN ZION back from greatness: though it's a good album, it feels more like Fiasco taking a step back from the many low points in his discography and trying something more slimmed-down rather than a full on reinvention. When he does try to branch out - say, on the conceptual KIOSK where a mall vendor is trying to trick people into buying needlessly expensive jewelry - it can feel a little cut and dry when he lays it on thick with couplets like "Diamonds only worth what you are willing to pay / A deceptive game you are killing to play" or "Where preachers can praise AIDS as God killing the gays / ...But when he dies from cancer, that's God's mysterious ways" that leave the message a bit too exposed for his storytelling to land. It's a bluntness unavoidable with an album made in just three days, but it leaves me wondering what DRILL MUSIC IN ZION might have sounded like if each of these songs had a little more time to cook in the oven, if Fiasco could figure out how to balance this brashness and force with more thoughtful and multilayered songwriting, or if it would end up ballooning like it has many times on his previous projects. He clearly has the skills as a rapper and writer on DRILL MUSIC IN ZION to do that, but rarely is there a time we get to actually see him put those skills to use here. It's a brisk, cohesive listen, but it lacks a sense of spirit and adventure. Still, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION is one of the strongest releases he's put out in a long while, trimming off the fat and focusing solely on the things that made Fiasco's music so charismatic and enjoyable in his early years. He's a smart, perceptive rapper who can balance darker topic matter with witty wordplay and crafty songwriting, and he's got the production ear for thick and padded beats to carry his stories well, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION having all the parts in place for one monumental release. The only thing holding it back is how raw and undercooked many of its moments feel, Fiasco's quick creation of all these songs leaving no room to breathe as he aimed to squeeze out as much creativity as he could within these 72 hours, a sense of messiness underpinning everything he does here. Nevertheless, DRILL MUSIC IN ZION is a potent reminder of what's made Fiasco such a strong player in modern rap for decades now, even when his albums were confusing and all over the place: he's an incredibly interesting and fun guy to listen to. And when he puts his mind to it, there's absolutely no denying how effective and engrossing an album DRILL MUSIC IN ZION is.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Corinne Bailey Rae Album Review: Black Rainbows

(Thirty Tigers)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

There's very little in the back catalog of English R&B singer-songwriter Corinne Bailey Rae that would prepare you for Black Rainbows. While over her previous three albums, Bailey Rae increasingly, but gradually experimented, veering ever so slightly from the gentle neo soul she became known for, her fourth and best album is an urgent aesthetic about-face. Combining the punk influences from her teenage years with a newfound exploration of Afrofuturist jazz and electronica, Black Rainbows is inspired by a Theaster Gates exhibit Bailey Rae saw at the Stony Island Arts Bank. There, she saw images of a Black history that wasn't focused solely on oppression and trauma, nor just excellence and joy, but a journey of overcoming. "We long to arc our arm through history / To unpick every thread," she sings on album opener "A Spell, A Prayer", a song that starts with silence but builds up with slinky bass, pulsating drums, feedback squalls, shimmers, and layered vocal harmonies, a statement of purpose from a sonic collective.

Black Rainbows is effective because of its mix of inspirations, some direct and others broad, and how they yield sonic variety. The album's lead singles are prime examples of the former. The cheerleader chanting pop punk of "New York Transit Queen" is a tribute to Audrey Smaltz, the first Black Miss New York Transit, whose vibrant aura is represented by explosive guitars and drum fills. In contrast is stark piano ballad "Peach Velvet Sky", where Bailey Rae's vocal performance inhabits the story of Harriet Jacobs as per her autobiography Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. Among all the songs on the album, it sounds closest to something Bailey Rae would have sung two decades ago. (Bailey Rae did read Jacobs' book as a child.) But her reconnection with the story at the Stony Island Arts Bank is exemplary of Bailey Rae's overall deeper dive into Black stories.

Elsewhere on Black Rainbows, Bailey Rae generally but critically examines the past and imagines a better future. The pummeling post-punk of "Erasure" laments the effacement of Black contributions to cultural history, her voice effectively breaking out from behind obscuring noise. On the beatific "Earthlings", she dares to ask, "Could we find work and time to dance?" and "Can't we take the lessons that we've learned / And make a new Utopia?", finding radical beauty in electric, echoing guitar strums and birdsong. The progressive "He Will Follow You With His Eyes" sees psychedelic bossanova give way to skittering electronica as Bailey Rae proclaims love for an authentic, beautiful self. "I'll be smouldering in my plum red lipstick / My black hair kinking / My black skin gleaming," she repeats over a beat, mantra-like.

Ultimately, Black Rainbows is an album about love, for oneself and one's community, for Black art and stories, for romantic partners and friends. Bailey Rae experiments with divergent vocal deliveries and musical genres to mirror the complexity and vastness of her artistic world, subdued coos to passionate shouts, rap, thumping techno, and acid house to soulful dance and jazz. She makes a masterwork out of the act of exploration, inward and outward.

[listening-through-the-lens]

Melissa Carper Has A Ramblin' Soul And A Big Heart

Melissa Carper Has A Ramblin’ Soul And A Big Heart

Melissa Carper New Release Melissa Carper – Photo: Lyza Renee Country’s Rising Star – Melissa Carper New Album Coming ‘Ramblin’ Soul’ Single Out Now (more…)

[redcarpetview]

Marvin Sapp's 15th Album - SUBSTANCE - Available Now!

     By Naomi Richard

    Marvin Sapp, Senior Pastor of The Chosen Vessel Church in Fort Worth, Texas, is a mainstay in Gospel music in no small part because of his consistency. On June 10th, Sapp released his 15th album, Substance, a lyrical and sonic masterpiece that demonstrates the depth and breadth of his God-given musical gift.

     While Substance is Sapp’s 15th offering, it is also the first album released on his newly-formed independent label Elev8 Music & Entertainment (distributed through Thirty Tigers), and it is the first album to be recorded in his newly built 2,400 square foot Fort Worth, Texas studio.

     “Being the artist and the label was a new experience,” says Sapp. “I’m used to recording the album, turning it in and letting the label do what it does best with administration, marketing and promotions. This time, I was the artist, conceptualizing and creating, and the label head, looking over budgets, production, marketing and promotions. It was a lot, but it was fulfilling. I’ve thought about having my own label for many years and now that I finally do, I embrace the challenge. I’m also grateful for long standing industry relationships that I have been able to call on for assistance and guidance when needed.” 

       The lead single, “All In Your Hands,” was written by Sapp and frequent collaborator Stan Jones. The luminous track speaks to the anxiety that so many of us continue to experience because of the COVID-19 pandemic and everything else happening in the world. “It speaks directly to the unsurety, the stress and pain and tells us that we do not have to worry about these things because God made us some promises, and we know He keeps His promises. We picked it as the first single because it sets the tone – thematically – for the entire album,” says Sapp. “I wanted to deliver biblically-based lyrical content that would allow listeners to have their faith fortified and be entertained simultaneously.”

      The album also features “You Kept Me,” co-written by Jarmone Davis, who penned Sapp’s last #1 single “Thank You For It All.” A track that will serve as a pleasant surprise is “Serve the Lord” featuring the Williams Singers.

      Sapp revisited two of his classics and commissioned a remix of “Not the Time, Not the Place” and “Grace and Mercy.” “This is a 25th anniversary edition of songs that I did early in my career that people still always want to hear. I gave them to a writer to flip and put his stamp on, and I love how it came out. I think people will enjoy it,” says Sapp.

    Substance boasts 11 reflective and refreshing musical reminders that a life with God at its center should be a life free of worry and stress. Marvin Sapp’s new album, Substance, is available everywhere digital music is sold.

                                                                                                                 # # #

[todayisafridaynight]

I mean, I like Daigo and Y3 but it's undeniable that a lot of the reason of MineDai being small is cuz Mine, Daigo and Y3 are generally unliked? Not like hated but like just not liked down upon the bigger side of the fandom. Add to that that the yaoi girlies, like us, are just like a fraction of the fandom... well, not exactly big shit to have.

Personally... I'm kinda glad Mine is overlooked cuz... dear fucking god the radioactive waste he could create if he was popular. Mind you, I'm not exactly a Mine fan but I know he would be... not the best for larger audiences.

minedai really is just for us yaoi girlies you're so right .....

[pcnmagazine]

JASON ISBELL AND THE 400 UNIT ANNOUNCE NEW ALBUM WEATHERVANES - OUT JUNE 9TH

Lead Track ‘Death Wish’ – LISTEN HERE GRAMMY-Award winners Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit announced today the upcoming release of their eighth album, Weathervanes, out June 9th via Southeastern Records/Thirty Tigers. Written and produced by Isbell, Weathervanes features 13 brand new tracks. ‘Death Wish’, the debut release from the collection, is available now – stream here. Weathervanes is a…

[theartofangirling]

part 3 of the 2023 version of this post: adult books!

part 1: middle grade books | part 2: young adult books

this is a very incomplete list, as these are only books I've read and enjoyed. not all books are going to be for all readers, so I'd recommend looking up synopses and content warnings. feel free to message me with any questions about specific representation!

list of books under the cut ⬇️

yerba buena by nina lacour

if we were villains by m.l. rio

everyone in this room will someday be dead by emily r. austin

i want to be a wall by honami shirono

portrait of a thief by grace d. li

the thirty names of night by zeyn joukhadar

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

love & other disasters by anita kelly

take a hint, dani brown by talia hibbert

boyfriend material by alexis hall

almost like being in love by steve kluger

the charm offensive by alison cochrun

something wild & wonderful by anita kelly

red, white & royal blue by casey mcquiston

something to talk about by meryl wilsner

honey girl by morgan rogers

one last stop by casey mcquiston

once ghosted, twice shy by alyssa cole

kiss her once for me by alison cochrun

a spindle splintered by alix e. harrow

finna by nino cipri

every heart a dooryway by seanan mcguire

the starless sea by erin morgenstern

under the whispering door by tj klune

space opera by catherynne m. valente

light from uncommon stars by ryka aoki

dead collections by isaac fellman

the city we became by n.k. jemisin

light carries on by ray nadine

an absolutely remarkable thing by hank green

feed them silence by lee mandelo

summer sons by lee mandelo

upright women wanted by sarah gailey

lavender house by lev a.c. rosen

fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop cafe by fannie flagg

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

a master of djinn by p. djeli clark

witchmark by c.l. polk

a marvellous light by freya marske

a restless truth by freya marske

when women were dragons by kelly barnhill

plain bad heroines by emily m. danforth

a lady for a duke by alexis hall

infamous by lex croucher

passing strange by ellen klages

even though i knew the end by c.l. polk

the chosen and the beautiful by nghi vo

whiskey when we're dry by john larison

wake of vultures by lila bowen

silver in the wood by emily tesh

the once and future witches by alix e. harrow

the kingdoms by natasha pulley

a tip for the hangman by allison epstein

she who became the sun by shelley parker-chan

the song of achilles by madeline miller

spear by nicola griffith

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir

some desperate glory by emily tesh

all systems red by martha wells

a psalm for the wild built by becky chambers

the mimicking of known successes by malka older

winter's orbit by everina maxwell

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

legends and lattes by travis baldree

the house in the cerulean sea by tj klune

other ever afters by melanie gillman

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

a day of fallen night by samantha shannon

a strange and stubborn endurance by foz meadows

the unbroken by c.l. clark

real queer america by samantha allen

fun home by alison bechdel

in the dream house by carmen maria machado

better living through birding by christian cooper

why fish don't exist by lulu miller

[baddywronglegs]

The train doors opened and the wizard stepped aboard.

He looked down the carriage with a sigh, taking in the rows of full seats, uninterested faces. Not one of these people wanted to give up their place for a tired old man, however extravagant and pointy a hat he wore.

He took a swig of the coffee from the platform, chewed the grounds, and marched up to the first row of seats.

“Excuse me, child,” he rasped, leaning over a man clearly in his thirties, who spent a gallant amount of time pretending not to notice he was being spoken to by the owner of the beard currently tangling itself in his own. “Where do you get off?”

The man frowned. “Doncaster.”

The wizard stood upright again and raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Change trains to Leeds.”

“Ah,” the wizard said sagely. “So it is not Doncaster you want to be in but Leeds.”

“I guess?”

“Splendid.” The wizard threw his empty cup over his shoulder where it fizzled out of existence, threw wide his arms, and brought them together with an almighty clap – right where the Leeds-bound man would have been, had he not in that instant been replaced with a sprinkling of purplish glitter.

The wizard eased himself into the now vacant seat. His new seat-mate took an earbud from her ear, staring in shock at what had just happened beside her.

“What just happened?”

“I sent him to Leeds,” the wizard said levelly. “I’ve done worse.”

“You teleported him?”

“I wanted a seat, he wanted to be in Leeds, it worked out best for both of us.”

“But if you can teleport people why didn’t you just teleport yourself?”

You can hide a lot of things in a beard. A smug smirk, a thoughtful curl of the lip, a scowl – but like a tiger in the long grass, it’s the movement from one to the other that gives them away.

“Look I paid a lot for this ticket,” he muttered at length. “And I can only do that once a day so we’re stuck together until one of us gets off, so just put that thing back in your ear and let me have this one.”

[highvern]

Houdini

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut, hint of fluff at the end

warnings: drinking, allusion to drug use, sub hoshi likes when reader is mean to him, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex, reader calls hoshi a furry more than once, cumshot, hair pulling, reader wears bunny ears

Length: ~5.3k

Note: this started as a prologue to a different fic but i wanted it to become its own fic. danke @gyuswhore for being my torture subject as always as well as @onlyhuis @temptaetions @cheolism

Summary: The guy wearing a tiger onesie and ripping a bong in the corner might not be the most promising prospect of the night. But you've got a point to prove and a bet to win. series m.list: Green Light [s], Yuck [f], Talk [a, s, f]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The cramped living room is hazy with the smell of pot, cut by cheap led strip lights painting everything in violets and blues. Butt numb from the stiff armrest of the couch, you adjust the bunny ears on your head for the fifth time in the twenty minutes you’ve sat there.

Everyone else skitters around, dressed as different animals. More bunnies, a few cats, a guy dressed like a dinosaur hogging a joint. It’s someone’s birthday; a friend of a friend you’ve never met, but the promise of free alcohol before heading downtown isn’t even close to the worst way to spend your time. It’s why you fished out the dumb satin bunny ears from your closet; a relic from Halloweens past when you needed a cheap excuse to wear something scandalous in public with little judgment. 

June disappeared thirty minutes ago to find the birthday boy, leaving your entire group to mingle until she returns. 

You intently listen as Lily vents about her work crush for the nth time. His name is of no relevance, but she’s convinced herself it's love despite the fact he possesses fewer brain cells than a rock. A proven fact since he didn’t know the difference between consonants and vowels despite being well into his twenties.

“Why all the talk about relationships?” you interrupt. “Can we please have one night where we don’t talk about guys.”

“Some of us want boyfriends.” Anna rolls her eyes. 

“And yet, you can find one hundred percent of the benefits of one with zero effort. At least without all the mind games you two go through every week.”

“Easy for you to say.” Anna argues. “You’re like the poster girl for no-commitment sex.”

“I like what I like,” you shrug. “Not guys that say they want a relationship and then claim you're moving too fast when you ask him to treat you like a person.”

Lily gives an exasperated groan to the ceiling. “We get it. You hate romance.”

“I don’t hate it. I just like to be realistic. Most guys are good for one thing and I happen to admire them for that.”

“Do you realistically think you can get any guy here to sleep with you?” Anna asks. 

Any guy is a stretch. You’re easy but not without standards. Taken men are strictly off the menu. Along with weirdos or guys that look like they’ve never seen the inside of a shower. Anyone looking for a relationship typically removes themself from the running after figuring out you aren’t looking to be saved or changed, just a warm body that’s easy on the eyes.

“Pick anyone and if I pull him you owe me breakfast tomorrow.” You challenge them with a smirk. It’s slim pickings so early in the night, but nothing you can’t work with.

“Okay, then.” Lily agrees. “What about him?”

It takes you a moment to decipher who her manicured finger is pointing at. There's a small crowd in the corner of the room, guys too scared to mingle or uninterested in anything beyond their circle jerk. But he’s easy to spot; a tiger onesie and a dark crop of hair are all the details you get from this far away.

He seems to be the main entertainer of the bubble. Hands fly in different directions, chaotic but graceful. Now that you’re locked onto him, the boom of his voice floats under the heavy music. Tiger guy isn't your usual type. He’s lithe and lean; maybe a dancer or something athletic. You like them tall and domineering. It makes it that much sweeter when they try to dominate you, only to be beaten at their own game. Mingyu wasn’t your A-list fuck buddy for no reason. A damn shame he moved away at the end of last year.

But the man Lily’s picked will do what you need him to; prove a point and grant you a free meal. If you get at least one orgasm out of it then that’ll be a bonus. Chugging the last of your drink (which smells like nail polish remover and paint thinner had a very toxic baby), you drop the empty cup into Anna’s hand.

“And we want proof!” Anna calls as you stalk toward the far wall.

One of the other guys he’s talking to sees you approach, and you watch the way his eyes convey your presence, nearly bugging out of his skull. A gentle tap on tiger guy’s shoulder has him turning to greet you.

Confusion clouds his face. He’s cuter than you expected, with furrowed eyebrows and a pout that draws your eyes to his mouth with curiosity. You’ll find out their talents soon enough. 

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi?” he parrots.

“I’m Y/N.” Eyes round with faux innocence, you make a point to take a few seconds staring at his mouth before meeting his curious gaze.

“Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung. The name rolls along your tongue easily. You light up at the way his eyes follow the curve of your mouth around the sound. It’s too easy.

Pushing forward, chest to chest; raising on your toes. You relish in another shiver at the brush of your mouth against his ear. “Is this your party?”

“Yeah, it’s my roommate’s birthday,” he says.

So that’s who June knows. 

“Cool. Wanna show me your room?”

“What?” You can hear the record scratch in Soonyoung’s brain; see the disbelief in his eyes.

Stepping into his space, your gaze burns a path from his lips to his eyes before you repeat, “your room?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can…definitely do that. This way!”

His own friends, still circled in the corner, gape in their own disbelief. Soonyoung has you charging through the crowded living room and down the hallway. Good. Even more bodies fill the narrow space but he nearly pushes them aside, waving off any grunts of discontent at his roughness.

You pass several doors on each side, all closed from prying eyes but you don’t have an interest anyway. His room is at the end of the long passage. A whiteboard with a crude image of a tiger and a rainbow hangs at eye level, coupled with ‘TamTam + Hoshi 5ever’ but you don’t have time to admire the art before you’re inside.

“So, this is it,” Soonyoung announces, hands wringing in front of his chest nervously. 

The tiger thing isn’t so much a coincidence and more of a theme. A poster of a tiger hangs on the wall above the dresser. But it’s not the worst of it. His bed hosts several plushies, all different sizes and shapes but certainly tigers. 

Whipping around, you eye him with incredulity. “Are you a fucking furry?”

“No!” He shakes like a bobblehead. Like he’s had to explain it dozens of times before. “It’s a joke! From college, with my friends.”

“A joke where you collect tiger memorabilia as a grown man?” You shoot back.

“It’s not that bad.”

Eyebrows flying to your hair line, you make a sweep of the room. “You have a framed picture of a tiger, are wearing a tiger suit, and have a miniature army of stuffed animals.” 

“Okay, maybe it is that bad, but I’m not a furry.”

If he was hiding more of the garish pattern out of sight you wouldn’t be surprised. For good measure, you fold over the blanket of his bed and sigh relief to find navy sheets instead of orange. You’ve slept with weirder guys for less but it’s nice to know he isn’t that weird.

“Whatever you say. But if you ask me to wear a tail, I’ll walk back out there and tell everyone.”

You peel your shirt off without another word. Once your vision is free of the fabric, you’re met with a starstruck man — mouth open, eyes skimming your chest, and what seems to be a half-chub tenting his pants. You revel in the silent awe rolling off him, preening at the attention. So easy.

But Soonyoung seems to come to his senses when you start working on the zipper holding together the back of your skirt shut.

“Woah, okay. We don’t have to go so fast,” he says, taking a step in your direction.

“So I should put my shirt back on?” You make for it like the threat is real.

“Let’s not be too hasty! I’m just saying, maybe we should, like, talk a bit first?”

Your feet carry you until there’s barely a breath between his body and your own. Soonyoung’s shirt brushes against your naked stomach with each stuttered breath as you eye his lips. “Well, do you wanna talk or do you want your dick sucked? Because I can only do one at a time.”

“Definitely the second one,” Soonyoung starts, dipping his hands to your ass for a harsh squeeze while shepherding you to his bed.

His mouth tastes like smoke and need. A disgusting combination if not for your tipsy brain easily ignoring it in favor of focusing on the roughness of his touch.

Soonyoung is eager, to say the least. He can’t touch you fast enough; hands darting from your ass, to your sides, to your breasts, and back down again. If this was happening at your apartment you’d tie him down and refuse to let him feel anything at all just to watch him squirm. 

You manage to flip him under you, pinning him in place with your thighs to rest across his lap like a throne. Taking the change in stride, he uses the new angle to mouth over your bra; sucking harshly at your covered nipples till they stiffen for his fingers to pinch at.

“Condoms?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. 

Digging the heel of your hand into his forehead successfully unlatches the suction around your nipple.  He pouts at the interruption.

“You don’t have condoms?”

“I do, but I’m not about to fuck you after two seconds of making out,” Soonyoung argues. “I‘m not even hard yet.”

Shocked by the sudden attitude, you huff before rolling your hips down. You're met with a familiar lump pressing into the crotch of your pants, and Soonyoung has the nerve to simply return to his previous task as you rock against him again.

“Liar,” you pant after a delicious drag of his teeth on your collarbone and his cock against your ass.

You stay locked like that for a while, writhing against one another as clothes come off without abandon. Your bra first, then the damn tiger onesie. Soonyoung gets you on your back before flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side, revealing your drenched center.

He sucks a bruise on your nipple, tongue messy as he explores what’s between your legs with a gentle stroke of his fingers.

“Can I go down on you? Please say yes.” Soonyoung traces the request across your chest with more nips of his teeth. 

“You have to ask?”

“Consent is sexy.”

“You sound like a PSA,” you comment. “But, yeah go ahead.”

Your hips lift to aid in removing the last scraps of clothing. There’s no shyness as you spread your legs wide, flashing the aftermath of a good make-out session for Soonyoung eyes only.

“Oh my god,” he moans.

The heat of his breath fans across your folds, sending a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t even blink as you clench from the aching need to be filled with whatever he’s ready to offer,

“What?”

“This is gonna make me sound weird again, but you have a really pretty pussy.”

Not something any previous partners have chosen to comment on, but you preen under the compliment. “Thanks.”

“No. Thank you,” Soonyoung says before looking at the ceiling. “God, thank you so much for blessing me like this.” 

“Stop being lame or I'll leave.” 

“Sorry, you’re hot.” He says it like an accusation. “Just wanted to let the universe know I recognize that and appreciate it.” 

“How about you recognize the fact I’m drying up as we speak?” 

“No you aren’t,” Soonyoung argues. “You’re dripping on my sheets.” 

Your hand skates across your front, falling between your thighs. Like hypnosis, he watches with rapt attention as you frame your clit between two fingers, giving a clear target for his attention. 

“Then do something about it.”

With a hand fisted in his hair, he does. An aggressive suck against your clit without warm-up sends a tremor through your core. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting until he’s forced away from your cunt with a petulant frown. 

“If you keep licking my clit like a scratch off I will make you cry.” A jostle of the bed tells how effective your words are. “Oh my god. Did you just?” 

“I’ve never been threatened in bed before, okay? I'm just as shocked as you.”

He hides the embarrassment by wedging back between your thighs, gentler than before, lapping away the new flood of arousal from his responsiveness. A thrill hums down your spine and settles where Soonyoung’s mouth returns to work. His shoulders burn hot against the underside of your thighs, every surge of muscle rocking you back into the slick of his tongue. 

“Fuck.”

“Better?” he asks around a mouth full of pussy.

There might very well be a crowd at the door listening to every lewd squelch and pathetic whine, but you don’t care. A little direction, a grind of your hips when he does well and the sting of your nails when he gets ahead of himself does wonders. Soonyoung is eager to please and impress. You could probably lay here for an hour without a complaint for him; if anything, he’d actively encourage such indulgence if it meant your approval. 

It makes the temptation to overwhelm him too sweet to ignore. 

One of the hands flat against your stomach falls away easily, knotting his fingers through yours because of course he’d be the type to hold hands during sex. It’s cute, but that fondness is stomped down for something safer. 

Like sucking two fingers between your lips like it's his cock.

Soonyoung grunts frustration straight into your core, refusing to watch you wet his hand even when you moan at the prod against the back of your throat. Another hump against the mattress as an edge of teeth drags over his knuckles. 

You can’t help but laugh as he scrambles to stretch you across them. He curls one slowly, like you’ll object. When you don't, Soonyoung adds the other and resettles your thigh so he can watch them disappear inside. His knuckles return even more soaked and even you can’t pretend it isn’t a turn-on. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Before you can respond, he’s licking away the fresh wave of wetness from his praise. It isn’t new information, but Soonyoung is impossibly earnest and you’re pretty sure if he came from eating you out he’d be just as satisfied as if you fucked him.

“Gimme a third.”

Soonyoung moans like he’s the one getting off as he does what you ask. 

Your legs lock, sore at the hips from being dragged to the edge so quickly. It bubbles just under the surface. Too far away where you can’t reach it but know Soonyoung can. He knows it too by the way you whisper his name. 

“If you touch yourself right now will you cum?” 

“Probably.” 

“Good.” You're overeager, just like the man between your legs, but the idea he can get off from eating you out can’t be ignored. “Show me.” 

“If you make me cum twice tonight I will talk to my therapist about you, so no.”

You whine a protest. Something that would sound far more responsible falling from his lips in the established dynamic, but you don’t care. One of your feet wedges between the bed and his crotch, toeing along the bulge still hidden behind a pair of thin boxers.

“Is it not enough that I might cum from you insulting me, you have to see it happen?” He asks. 

The picture behind your eyelids is nothing short of demonic; pulling Soonyoung’s boxers down and the inside sticky with cum, but his cock still hard because once is definitely not enough. Or streaks of white coating his chest and thighs, the perfect trail to trace your tongue over. 

You don’t even have a chance to share the fantasy before he splits you on his tongue again. Firmer this time, with a hard press to your knees that has you vulnerable and exposed. He keeps his tongue flat and heavy on your clit. Perfect to grind up against until you shudder.

Since you can’t get Soonyoung to give in, you settle for ruining any future encounter he might have by making a show.

Your fingers tickle up your stomach, nails raising goosebumps at the soft touch. Back and forth and back and forth, a little higher each time until you catch the hill of your chests and circle the hard peaks. There's no reason to ease into it, not when you sneak a glance down and find a pair of brown eyes framed between your legs.

The way he watches makes you feel dirty. Nipples pebbled between your fingers, you arch into his next move. His tongue stays flat for you to use. You curl into it, humping Soonyoung’s face like he’s nothing more than a toy to get off on. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

He’s definitely slipped a fourth finger inside. The stretch borders just on the edge of pain but you take it in stride. Soonyoung looks like he might cum before you do. 

“I’m – oh. Just like that.” You groan deep from your core. 

Your clit is throbbing with sensitivity as he continues to coax pleased sounds from your tongue. Heating from the inside out, your hands abandoned the torture on your chest in favor of keeping Soonyoung in place so you can rut against him.

A switch flips with your next moan. Hands on your stomach, your breasts, shoving your thighs out of the way as he digs into your cunt like the best meal the world will know. 

“Cum for me. Please let me see you come,” Soonyoung begs. 

Fizzling out, you do what he asks. Your stomach tenses for a second and then you fly off the mattress from locked muscles. 

Soonyoung doesn’t stop as you twitch, nor when you kick an ankle into his side. Maybe you go a little wet at the eyes as he forces you straight into a second orgasm without an ounce of reprieve but it's probably coincidence.

Soonyoung finally moves away at an inhuman whine. His mouth is stained with the taste of you, but he wears it well. It almost makes you want to push him back down and see if you can survive a third orgasm.

To stop from blindly following temptation, you roll until you’re sat in his lap. You must look as disheveled as you feel; sweaty and strung out. Ready for more.

“Wait,” he sighs with the pain of a man delaying his own gratification. “Wear these.”

The wrinkled satin bunny ears knocked from your head earlier come back into view. Soonyoung doesn’t  even pretend to be ashamed as he plants them back on your head before finding the dip of your waist again.

You hate the idea of giving in so easily, but Soonyoung’s need rolls off him in thick waves feeding straight to your ego.  “Oh, but you’re not a furry?” 

His cock fits well against the curl of your fingers as you stroke him, standing tall and proud from his lap. Oddly enough, you get his earlier sentiment. You’ve never thought of a dick as pretty but Soonyoung’s is nice. Red and leaking at the tip, you’re tempted to duck your chin and get a taste, but Soonyoung drags you up to his mouth before you can even make a good faith try.

“Stop being mean to me or I’ll bust a nut,” he whines.

“Can’t have that,” you snicker. “Condoms?”

“Drawer.”

The door slams open in your haste. It’s a mess of lube, sex toys, and random chargers. Who keeps a phone charger where their lube is? Too eager for the promise of such a pliable partner doesn’t leave with an interest in asking, and the way he continues to suck at your throat isn’t helping. Until you find something that stokes your curiosity even more.

“Soonyoung. What are these?” 

A set of fuzzy tiger print cuffs dangle from your fingers. The jokes write themselves. But you ignore the re-occurrence of orange and black because you really want to know if he likes bondage. (Hopefully it’s a yes. Even more hopeful is he likes to be on the receiving end.)

“Birthday present.”

“Your friends are weird,” you say. “Have you used them?”

He looks shy, like he hasn’t just asked you to don animal ears and ride him into the mattress. Handcuffs are nothing in comparison but you wait out the nerves flashing on his face. “Maybe.”

“On who?”

“Umm…”

“Have you been handcuffed?” 

Do you want to be? The idea is just another fantasy you’ll think about later in the dark of your room when you need a quick way to get off. 

“No.”

“Lame,” you tease before tossing them to the floor and shoving a foil packet into his chest.

Soonyoung’s ability to multitask is nonexistent. Not when your nipping his ear lobe and whispering how bad you want him to fuck you; how you can’t wait to feel him inside you; how big his dick is. Perfect flattery that makes him whine and fumble the condom over and over again until you grant clemency and do it yourself.

His hands are rough against your ass as you slip him inside, slow because you want him to suffer just a little bit. Your thighs scream in protest at the angle but Soonyoung looks at you like he’s watching a miracle unfold and the discomfort is more than worth it.

If there was time, you’d let him fuck you from behind just to see how he’d fair with such a visual, but this is already dragging out too long. Soonyoung looks like he needs more time to adjust to the way he’s digging in your walls than you do. So you keep theme and start bouncing on his cock just to watch him go insane.

“God,” he grunts, neck strained and a vein rising on his forehead. “You’re fucking tight. Shit.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in focus. “Keep talking. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels amazing, oh my god. You’re so wet.”

Your pelvis tilts so he can meet each stroke from below. The slap of skin on skin drowns out any other noise; the music, the screaming partygoers just outside. If someone walks by his door they’ll figure out what's happening in a second. Makes you want Soonyoung to be louder.

“You’re so hard for me.” 

You sink flat until your ass is cradled against the firmness of his thighs. You use the leverage to sit up and give an uninterrupted view of your front; how your breasts bounce with each movement, where his cock sinks deep into your guts without any resistance.

“All for you,” he nods, eyes wild and unfocused. There’s sweat on his neck and you can’t fight the sick urge to suck against the muscle laying underneath. “Fuck you make me so hard.”

“Should’ve let me suck your dick.”

“I know,” he whines. An arm loops around your waist, crowding you into the sheets from a smooth flip. An open mouth kiss, really just panted breath and tongue, distracts you further. A thumb at your chin keeps you pliant to whatever he wants.

He rocks deeper, as if it's possible. Surges right into that spot that curls your chest tight with rough fluidity. Your thighs fold wide to give him room.

One of your hands rubs at your clit to catch up.

“God, yeah, touch yourself for me.” Soonyoung whines. “Can you come again?”

He’s not just a sub, he’s a sadist.

“I—”

“Please,” he begs with a hard rush. 

“Yeah, okay,” you mumble. “Fuck me harder. Make me cum on your cock.”

You dig your free hand in his hair, tugging until it stings at the roots just the way he likes. The reward is another harsh rut of his hips that leaves you gasping for air. 

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you moan along with the sloppy noise echoing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

You scramble to grab his ass, pulling him flush against you for the perfect angle to batter your insides. Your skins on fire as you tumble closer and closer to that point of no return. 

“Soonyoung!” you gasp. It’s right there. That blissful ending is just a hairwidth away. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he folds in half as he says it, crushing you underneath his body until you're bent in half in his lap with the wet of his tongue at your jaw. “Cum for me, cum on my cock.”

You twist tighter under his insistence, shrinking and shrinking, and then — finally — it splinters. The waves rock through you, head forced back into the pillows from the force of moans wrecking your throat. “Oh— fuck, that—god. Oh.” 

Vision black against the inside of your eyelids, you melt into nothing. Only Soonyoung’s grip keeps you from shaking apart into a million pieces as you whine into his mouth. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he’s rambling the way to his own end, hips shaky from the way you’ve wetted his cock. “You’re so hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You want to watch him cum. Even if the temptation to lay there and take it is sweet you won’t give in. 

Bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, Soonyoung is a mess in his own right. Pink at the ears, lips bruised. You can’t get enough. His eyes darken as you suck along his thumb, tongue lashing against the sensitive pad. Soonyoung isn’t the only one that wishes you got to suck his dick. 

“Cum on me,” you whine. 

He pulls out, quickly tossing the condom aside. Your hand is already waiting to jerk him off over your body, the grease of the latex making the strokes smooth as Soonyoung fucks your fist with the same desperation as your pussy. It takes only a few thrusts before you feel the heat of his spend drip across your chest and stomach. You’re careful to stay still, body spread flat as he coats you in pale streaks. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. He twitches when you don’t stop, biting his tongue through the sting of overstimulation until he has to pull away.

Soonyoung collapses to the side. Shoulder to shoulder, you catch your breaths in the dull thump of music.

“That was fun.” You pat his stomach before standing. The floor is a mess of clothes needing to be plucked through. His shirt becomes a cum rag as you wipe away the mess staining your body.

“You aren’t gonna stay?” He calls from the bed. 

“No?” 

Why would I? you think while pulling on your underwear.

Soonyoung watches, splayed across the bed with his dick still wet in his lap. “Then, can I, like, call you sometime?” 

“No thanks.” 

“If you keep being mean to me I’m going to fall in love with you.”

 “Quoting New Girl isn’t giving me much incentive to be nicer,” you snort, untangling your bra. 

“It’s a great fucking show.” 

“Here’s a tip: if you want to fuck me again, stop being such a loser.” 

“You still let me hit so I think you like losers.” 

He’s smiling. You really need to find your underwear so you can get away from it.

“I like hot guys with big dicks,” you shrug. “You happen to be that.” 

“I know you want me,” he sings

“Dead, maybe.” 

“You’d miss my stroke game.” 

“I’d love to stroke you.” You coo. “With a bat. To the head.” 

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby.” He groans with dramatic flair. “By the way, you have cum on your skirt.” 

You do, on the hem somehow. A mystery to be solved when you’re safely back in the crowded expanse of a party and not alone with the guy with a tiger fetish you might want to fuck again. “Not the first time.” 

“God…. Please give me your number.” 

You can’t swallow the smile blooming at his request. Instead, you turn to leer over him. He’s watching your mouth, licking his lips like he wants to drag you down for another tumble. “Keep begging.” 

He’s got enough humor to get on his knees and clutch his hands to his chest pathetically. You’re still close, watching him down the slope of your nose while hiding a smirk. 

“Queen of my dick, please bestow a crumb of kindness and allow me the pleasure of hitting you up at 3 AM.” 

“That time I almost caved.” You back away just in time for him to stumble over himself. “Too bad I don’t fuck guys into furry shit at 3 AM.” 

“One, not a furry. Two, who do you fuck then?” 

“One, you're not fooling anybody.” You take extra time straightening out your hair in the mirror just so he can stare at your ass. You feel him do it. “Two, myself.” 

“I will pay real money to see that.”

“I know you would. So you’re never gonna.”

He’s watching you like some lovesick fool, glowing in the light with ignorance of what comes next. Part of you doesn’t want to crush someone as earnest as he is but staying the night is out of the question when you can still hear the party rattling through the walls.

“If I give you my number,” you start. “You have to give me this.”

It’s one of the smaller plushies. Soft to the touch and attached to his keys hanging by the door. It’s cute and perfect enough to satisfy your friends’ demands. Also, an excuse to see him again if you really want.

 Maybe you do. 

“TamTam?” Soonyoung asks from your side. You didn’t even hear him approach but he’s got boxers on so it took him a minute.

“You name your stuffed animals?”

“TamTam is special.” 

“Oh, he is?” you ask. “Well, how bad do you want my number?”

“I don’t know…” Soonyoung starts. 

Your face stings at the rejection but you bury it before giving it a chance to fester into something that needs thinking about. Looking back in the mirror to correct the smudges in your make is the only cover you’ve got.

“Okay,” he nods. “But if you do anything to him I will actually cry.”

TamTam is thrust into your hands and you can’t help but smile. It’s cute. Soonyoung is cute. And it actually might make you explode. 

You hate it.

“I pinky promise I will throw myself in front of a bullet for TamTam.”

He locks his pinky around your extended one, “Good.”

And then he’s kissing you again. Every thought melts away under his lips, soft against your own with a new sweetness. The edge of the dresser digs into your spine as he crowds you against it for more leverage but it’s merely an afterthought.

Soonyoung (not a furry): btw i lied [12:15 AM] Soonyoung (not a furry): im not hitting you up at 3am [12:15 AM] Soonyoung (not a furry): what are you doing tomorrow night (pls say me) [12:16 AM] You: tamtam and i are busy [12:33 AM]

Maybe you smile at the string of intelligible letters you receive after sending the picture of you kissing TamTam’s cheek. It’s no one's business if you do anyway.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[bluestownmusic]

New Release: G. Love - Philadelphia Mississippi

  New Release: G. Love – Philadelphia Mississippi   G. Love – Philadelphia Mississippi Format: CD Label: Philadelphonic Records – Thirty Tigers Release: 2022 Release date: June 24, 2022 Produced by North Mississippi All-Stars’ Luther Dickinson and Featuring Alvin Youngblood Hart, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Cam Kimbrough, Tikyra Jackson, Schoolly D, Speech and more. April 20, 2022: Today, the…

[luuurien]

American Aquarium - Chicamacomico

(Alt-Country, Singer/Songwriter, Americana)

The long-running Americana outfit takes a muted approach to their rootsy brand of Southern rock, painting intimate and relaxed scenes of parenthood, domestic life, and grief. Chicamacomico is the most relaxed American Aquarium has ever sounded, but by aiming for something more eminently relatable, BJ Barnham's songwriting and the band behind him latch onto your heart more than ever.

☆☆☆½

American Aquarium has always been a down to earth band, but Chicamacomico has you witnessing them interacting with the same kind of tedium and grief rarely brought up in country music at large. They know that the stability in their lives is not something that comes without work and a constant outpouring of love and dedication, and you can only put that much heart into so many places before you have to wind down and take care of yourself. Chicamacomico is that moment of care and reflection. BJ Barnham tells stories of loss, sobriety and family without resolutions or revelations, letting himself sit with these emotions and release them through the music without trying to force a narrative of any kind on top of it. It's their most difficult to listen to album emotionally, yet American Aquaium's healing folk tunes and sunny Americana rock jams keep the album from feeling like a pity party, Chicamacomico embracing the cloudy skies and standing under them until they pass. This is the folkiest American Aquarium have ever sounded, but don't confuse that for them flattening out their sound at all. Chicamacomico sounds just as great as any of their previous releases, lightening up on the instrumentation but preserving the band's sense of rustic textures and spaciousness that calls to mind the introspection and quiet of the Appalachian Mountains or a breezy winter ocean. Album single Wildfire hinted at this more subdued sound with its fluffy electronic drum pad and stripped-down acoustic strumming that put the spotlight fully on Barnham's voice, the occasional touch of pedal steel and organs keeping their country spirit alive, but Chicamacomico's deeper cuts are where it really begins to shine, the troubled domesticity of Just Close Enough contrasting simple images of shelved moving boxes and mind-numbing overtime with a story of how love and commitment is so often tested by the turmoil of life to the point where it can seem like that connection you once had with someone barely exists at all anymore. The First Year's tender fingerpicked guitar and delicate piano help Barnham to detail the deep feelings of loss he began to feel after the passing of his mother, holidays and family events rendered teary-eyed as the reality of death finally hit him. Now, none of these stories feel particularly high-brow, but that's not American Aquarium's goal here. These songs are an account of someone coming to terms with the world around them outside of musical stardom, knowing that making art is always going to be a part of his life, but investing more in his personal life and relationships than ever. "I used to be a singer with a family back home / But now I’m just a father and a husband who knows his way around a microphone," he sings on the twangy Little Things, and you can feel how important it all is to him. Chicamacomico can often lack the bite vocally and instrumentally that helped make the best American Aquarium albums so gripping (I'm not sure any album of theirs will ever be as catchy as Lamentations), but the more intimate view you get of the band here helps deliver songs that wouldn't fit on any of their past album. The Things We Lost Along the Way is such a naked and pensive folk song that it's hard to imagine something as bittersweet as this on any past American Aquarium record without it sticking out with a sore thumb, but placed between the laid-back Wildfire and similarly relaxed folk rocker Waking Up the Echoes it makes a perfect moment of emotional release on the album. It does lend a stiffness to the more rock-inspired tracks on offer: Little Things feels a bit too bog-standard with its twangy guitars and blues pianos, and Built to Last is similarly too back-and-forth without having the intensity and grit to make its verse-chorus-verse structure feel rewarding. Chicamacomico is at its best when American Aquarium fully commits to its style of warm, acoustic Americana, where the atmosphere and Barnham's emotions are at the forefront, but it too often drifts from that place for the album to feel like a fully consistent experience. Though short, Chicamacomico is one of the most intriguing albums American Aquarium has put out, a uniquely mellow and tender affair that takes the band to a place closer to their hearts than usual. These songs are soft and much less in-your-face than any of the band's previous projects, asking you to lean in a little closer to American Aquarium and bring yourself into their lives more than ever. It's a simple ask, but it does wonders in making their music more charismatic and personable as you hear them toil with parenthood, making ends meet - all the little things that keep a house in order. Chicamacomico knows that its goal isn't to be anything but approachable and inviting, a respite from daily life that speaks on just how stressful and draining that daily life can be. If you've got any kind of experience with the things American Aquarium sings of, Chicamacomico will hit your heart like few other albums this year. Life can be boring, but it's watching your kids grow up and learning to be more at peace with the world that makes it all worth it.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Bruce Hornsby Continues on the Trail

Bruce Hornsby performs at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee, 10/17/23

BY JORDAN MAINZER

At one point last Tuesday in Milwaukee, in response to one of many moments in the night fans shouted their requests at him, Bruce Hornsby joked, "I love the battle between disparate elements of my audience." Funny enough, I can't think of a statement that better defines the virtuosic pianist and singer-songwriter. That is, what's amazing about Hornsby is not just that he's traversed the worlds of rock, jazz, bluegrass, but that he has diehard fans of each of his endeavors. Go to a Hornsby show--even a solo one like at the Pabst Theater, sans defunct backers The Range or current band The Noisemakers--and you're bound to find both classical music appreciators and Deadheads alike.

In that sense, 1998's Spirit Trail, a storied and purposeful left-turn into modern rock after the jazz-focused Harbor Lights and Hot House, exemplifies Hornsby's multi-pronged approach. On Friday, Hornsby will release a 25th anniversary reissue of the record via Zappo Productions and Thirty Tigers. It contains a remastered version of the record, four "lost" songs from an unfinished record that was meant to be Spirit Trail's follow-up (shelved in favor of the almost piano-less Big Swing Face), and previously unreleased live performances of many of the album's songs. In Milwaukee, venue employees were handing out early CD copies of the reissue, the night a celebration of both Spirit Trail and Hornsby's discography as a whole.

Per usual, audience members requested songs both by shouting them out and via written submission, dropped off on stage prior to the show. As expected, they were all over the place, from Spirit Trail and even Lost Trail tunes to songs he simply refused to play because they were too boring or didn't age well, like "Dreamland" and "The Old Playground". Ever cheeky, at one point, Hornsby asked for requests and responded to the various audible shouts, "I haven't heard what I'm looking for yet." It was clear he wanted to give preference to Spirit Trail. He led off the night with "Preacher in the Ring Pt. I", his jaunty piano playing covering the song's ground in totality. You didn't even miss Sonny Emory's clacking drums from Live Trail, nor the dulcimer from both the studio and live versions of "Shadow Hand". Hornsby's finger exercises were simply a masterclass. He wrote standout track "Sneaking Up on Boo Radley" by learning to play over a left-hand ostinato, appropriating György Ligeti's "Etude 13: The Devil's Staircase", and nailed it live. It was a perfect Spirit Trail song to play without a band. His voice, too, was on point, wailing on the Black Crowes-inspired Lost Trail tune "Living in the Sunshine", doing justice to the studio version that indeed sounds like it could be sandwiched between the Southern rockers' "Remedy" and "Thorn in My Pride".

Yes, Hornsby's reach and influence goes beyond Spirit Trail. "The Show Goes On" has been featured in everything from Ron Howard's Backdraft to The Bear. During the set last Tuesday, he segued "Sidelines"--a duet from 2022's terrific 'Flicted with Vampire Weekend's Ezra Koenig--into his most famous song of all, "The Way It Is", during which he invited set opener/Bon Iver drummer S. Carey out to harmonize. That over the past decade Hornsby has fostered fruitful collaborations with the likes of Justin Vernon and Blake Mills is more evidence that he's as shaped by his contemporaries as his organic musical interests. So put yourself in his shoes in the mid-1990s, and you can hear his response to the sociopolitical and musical landscape of the past decade in many of the songs on Spirit Trail. He's asking himself tough questions about his own Southern heritage, challenging institutional racism on songs like "See the Same Way". The strummed mandolin of "Preacher in the Ring Pt. II" recalls Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road", "Resting Place" and "Pete & Manny" the radio-friendly heartland rock of Mellencamp and Petty. Yet, Hornsby's also dipping his toes in the worlds of electronica and hip hop, songs like the shuffling "Line in the Dust" written on a synth bed and with a drum machine beat like much of the second disc of Spirit Trail. And of course, the goofily titled "Sunflower Cat (Some Dour Cat) (Down With That)" is built around a sample of Jerry Garcia's riff on "China Cat Sunflower", as Hornsby was trying to explain the appeal of the Grateful Dead to producer Mike Mangini, a hip hop head. Mangini was so taken aback by the former band member's performance that he wrote a groove around the riff.

On fan favorite piano ballad and Spirit Trail highlight "Fortunate Son", Hornsby sings, "I've stared down the devil and had to look away." The song is ostensibly written from the point of view of a wheelchair-bound military veteran, lucky to be alive but maligning society's penchant to ascribe sacrificial glory to a life of physical limitations. I've always heard it, though, as the general antithesis to tough guy nihilism, whether action heroes or strong and silent singer-songwriters. Hornsby is the ultimate reflector, yet not quite ready to face mortality like many of the characters in his songs. After last Tuesday and 25 years of Spirit Trail, it certainly does seem like he's only just getting started.

[thepermanentrainpress]

CONCERT REVIEW: ALANIS MORISSETTE W/ GARBAGE AT ROGERS ARENA - JULY 31ST, 2022

Few Canadian solo artists have had the impact and influence Alanis Morissette does. Performing from a very young age, she released Jagged Little Pill when she was only 21. It won multiple Grammys including Album of the Year, has sold over 30 million copies, and influenced many subsequent artists. It is generally acclaimed as one of the greatest international debuts ever – and it’s no surprise a tour celebrating its 25th anniversary was just as amazing.

Opening the show were alt 90s rockers Garbage. Formed and based in the US with Scottish singer Shirley Manson, this band shares status with Alanis in being huge icons of their era. They played in front of a giant backdrop of two stone angels, with strobe lights, flashing colours, and energy just as, if not more intense than many newer bands I’ve seen. 

Garbage played for almost a full hour, with stage presence that really brought the house down. In the early evening just after 7pm as they came on, most of the audience was sitting. But a few songs in, almost everyone was standing, dancing, and pumped. You could really feel the mood in the room as the crowd began to warm up and rock out. 

They circled through 12 songs, including their most recognizable hits “Stupid Girl” and “Only Happy When It Rains.” Shirley commanded the stage in a sparkling, dazzling black onesie. She ran around lots, shaking back and forth as only a seasoned cool rock star can do. She interacted with the audience a lot – in fact much more than Alanis ever did. She told a story about how, on tour in Edmonton, Alanis left the band an unexpected gift in the dressing room – a broom. “This is where gender divides us, because all the men in the audience are confused, and all the women are saying hell yeah, a broom!”

She wished Vancouver a very happy Pride (as our festivities were happening that weekend), asserting that Garbage would always be allies to the LGBTQ – which received massive applause. She referred to today’s “weird conservatism” and gave a passionate and fiery speech about women’s rights and bodily autonomy relating to abortion, complete with curse words, emphasizing “my body, my choice.” Dedicating a song to the young women in the audience, it was clear Garbage is just as cool and compassionate as ever.

Garbage really got everyone excited for the main event. Just 25 minutes or so later around 8:30 the lights dimmed. It started with a video retrospective detailing Alanis’ life and career over the years. Snippets of interviews, movies, and parodies of her music throughout the 90s were shown. It was a reminder of her past and current impact, with some truly hilarious sketches laughing at herself. She came on stage alongside her full band and immediately launched into the upbeat, empowering anthem “All I Really Want.” 

This tour was featuring Jagged Little Pill played in its entirety. I wasn’t sure if she would be performing the album in order or mixing the setlist up. I wasn’t even sure if she would be playing any songs off her other records. In the end, she performed the thirteen tracks out of order and played between five to ten other songs. Some of these were just snippets/transitions between more familiar tracks, and the focus was definitely on JLP. As a longtime fan very familiar with the album and her other eras, I thought this was a great decision. It ensured a better mix between faster and slower songs, saving some of the best for last while diversifying the whole set. 

Jagged Little Pill is an album that’s honest, heartfelt, and empowering. It’s sarcastic and sad, yet also encouraging and optimistic. The lyrics are poetic yet catchy and personal yet universal. So many of the choruses and even verses had us all singing along. “Hand in My Pocket” had us going on about being poor but happy. “Head Over Feet,” a personal favourite of mine, had me almost in tears humming along about not being surprised if someone loves you for all that you are. There was the classic hit “Ironic” that had everyone chanting about rain on your wedding day. (Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?) And of course, she closed the main set with her most heated and arguably recognizable hit – one of the most angsty and exciting breakup songs of all time. In that moment, we were ALL here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. (You, you, you oughta know.)

What struck me most about the performance was just how youthful and similar to the studio recordings Alanis sounded. She’s been in the industry for three decades, consistently touring and recording. She’s had three children and gone from being barely out of her teens to middle-aged. Nevertheless, with the notes and pitch hit, you’d swear she hadn’t aged a day. Her music is both pop and alt-rock and involves lots of screaming, stretching, and wailing. I think it really speaks to her talent and stamina that the live sound is so clear and present.

In addition to the music, a striking feature of the show was the imagery. Almost every song had an interesting visual accompaniment. Videos of dancing teens, scheming men, and fiery flames amongst others backdropped Alanis at fifty feet tall. There were psychedelic and cosmic backgrounds, dishes being broken, peace signs for “Hand in My Pocket,” and stained glass church windows for “Forgiven.” (You know how us Catholic girls can be...)

The non-JLP tracks were a solid mix of her later years. A standout was one of her latest singles, “Reasons I Drink” – a rather funny yet emotional and probably all-too-relatable tune. I wasn’t sure if the set would be intimate and solo or upbeat and detailed. In the end it was the latter; not once did Alanis perform solo or on the piano. This never took away from the experience, and she still played the harmonica and guitar at times. 

The encore was beautiful, touching and emotional. She began with “Your House” – a hidden track on the original album – and comedically restarted the song three or four times to a different tempo and musical style. (“No, that’s not it…”) Alanis circled through her 1998 track “Uninvited,” which included a few candid family photos of her, her husband, and three young children, to lots of applause. Finally, we finished with the cheerful and sweet hit “Thank U.” This was accompanied by the stage backdrop showing dozens of tweets from fans with the hashtag #ThankYouJLP25. These tweets had messages stating what these people were thankful for—everything from comic books and live music to family, friends, and life itself. It was touching and personal, and a great way to include fans from around the world. 

Rogers Arena holds over 18,000 people, and the show was sold out. I think it’s amazing that two women who peaked in the 90s can not only sell out an arena in 2022, but rock a crowd of all ages delivering the highest quality show possible. Being in that arena was like stepping back in time, reliving and experiencing glory days with the young and old. This was my first arena concert since 2019 in what was a different world, as I’m sure it was for many in the audience. It’s really great to be back sharing and experiencing live music again. I couldn’t have asked for a better return to large shows. 

Written by: Cazzy Lewchuk

[kyouka-supremacy]

BSD Anthologies Masterlist

I couldn't find a comprehensive (and with still working links) masterlist of the translated anthology chapters so. Here we go! Biggest shoutout to this other masterlist by @/yokohama-drip for most of the chapter references and to bsd-bibliophile for chapters 7 and 12 of the first and second anthologies. Titles translation credits go to the bsd wiki. Happy reading!

Edit: Thank you so much @amythedemisimp for the precious additions!!!

1-5 raws

First Anthology -Rei-

Don't Get a Stomachache to Gain a Friend by Hideki

The Things I Hate, the Things I Like by Ichi Kotoko

The Devil Comes and Takes Care by KanaiNeco

Kenji 100% by Enya Uraki

The Detective Agency's Manju Incident by Ui Kashima

A Quiz During Work by Mito Aoi

Karl's Resentment by Tsubata Nozaki /// alternative translation

The Things I Like by Con Kitora

Me and the Cake and Sometimes the Pug by Kazuki Tōgō

Jun'ichirō Tanizaki's Suffering by Akamaru

Fortune-telling Will Bring Good Luck by Yūto Masagishi

Icy Weather by Tam Chashibu

What is a Partner...? by Akaza Samamiya

Second Anthology -Hana-

The Detective Agency and the Port Mafia's Holidays by Mikan Aka

Time Sale is a Battlefield by Guru Mizoguchi

Q's Stroll Day by Kazusa Subaru

Osamu Dazai Quiz Tournament by Hinoki Kino

Ruler! Fitzgerald's Room by KanaiNeco

Thirty-two. Episode Five by Kakashi Tano

Ichiyō Higuchi's Off Duty Top Secret Mission by Ataru Hida

A Restaurant with Many Literary Masters by Ko Nikaido

A Timid Person's Day by Masahiro Jinno

Hot Pots and Holidays by Sho Kimiduka

The Tiger's Repayment by Kotaro

Sweet Outing by Yuzuru Kuzukiri /// alternative translation

Bungos' Joint Social Gathering by Hideki

Stray Dogs' Lucky Spot Disagreement by Noka Nogami

Third Anthology -Rin-

Mother by Hideki /// alternative translation

The Mafia Inadvertently Read a Novel Written on a Whim and Reincarnated in a Parallel Universe by Hinoki Kino /// alternative translation

As You Wear It by Akira Hirahara /// alternative translation

The Devil's Automatic Door by Nanora /// alternative transaltion

How to Find Happiness by Kanae Ikushima /// alternative translation

Hello, Again Winter Dreams. by Pyaa /// alternative translation

The Visitor in the Rain by Togekinoko /// alternative translation

Because My Senior's Healthcare is Also My Job by Roku Sakura /// alternative translation

Good Weather, Cat Storm by Osawa /// alternative translation

Breakfast Situation by Miki Daichi /// alternative translation

Elise-chan, a Smartphone Application by KanaiNeco /// alternative translation

Q's Suffering by Hiko Nekome /// alternative translation

Tiger, Sometimes Cat by Taichi Miya /// alternative translation

The Port Mafia's Medical Check-up by Sakurana Haru

With a Hat, a Man and a Beef Bowl by Oda

Fourth Anthology -Akatsuki-

Poe and Ranpo and Enter and Black Tea by Imaru Adachi /// alternative translation

Apple Demon by Nykken

A Little Break by Siroisora

Exciting Grab Bag by Toriyasu

All Quiet on the Black Cloth Front by Mari Araki

Hirotsu-san's Coffee Shop by Yashino Ayashiro

The Client is a Cute Ghost by Otakumi

The Little Visitor in the Rain by Togekinoko

Fully Automatic Suicide Machine by Zero Akabane

Why Did You Come to Japan? by KanaiNeco

The Story of Kunikida Falling Asleep by Saru Hashino

A Hunting Dogs' Holiday by Hinoki Kino

Infernal Day by Asuka Keigen

The Decision is an Oblate that Enwraps the Pain of Life by Hideki

Fifth Anthology -Kanade-

Masterlist by @/zilinks

Sixth Anthology -Mutsumi-

Given to You Based on Your Level and Love by KanaiNeco

Detective Agency Radio by Yu Kira

GET UP LUCY!! by Kabotya

Poe, Wine and the Setting Sun by Imaru Adachi

Shindafuri Dai Sakusen by Yuri Tsukushiro

Hanachidori by iyutani

What Style Are You? by Kiyo Hasui

'Hitori' yori 'hanbun' by Neno

The Angel's Rest by Mari Araki

Mottomo Erai Egoisuto by Mutsuki Higashioji

Magomusume Sakusen, Zokkō-chū ni Tsuki by Eku Hachida

Boo no Yū by Asato Konami

Do S! Erisu-chan!! by Kakeru Sora

Young Ranpo Wants to Be Praised by Tsuki Anmi (incomplete)

[todayisafridaynight]

had to do the y4 final fight twice (bc i let tanimura die by accident but thats not the point of this) and during daigos the 1st time my head was empty no thoughts BUT 2nd time around i kept begging him to not hit his surrogate papa and saying i didnt want to hit my kid what happened between those two fights that made me go family brained its so funny to me

i should never be a dad because my immediate thought to this ask was 'no kiryu should supplex his dumbass kid actually'