#WHEN ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS (just nick) MAKES A (potential) REFERENCE TO ONE OF YOUR OTHER FAVORITE BANDS (mischief brew)

[swampthing07]

WHEN THE CONNECTIONS YOU WERE MAKING IN YOUR MIND ACTUALLY WERE SOMETHING

[panharmonium]

For Want of a Woodwright (Part 4)

aaaand we’re back with another slice of AU nonsense! 

(parts 1-3 can be found here; original idea is courtesy of this awesome anon ask)

today’s installment is gift-fic for @ragtag-band-of-murderers, whose generous reading and commenting last week brought me such joy and truly helped me in the midst of a tough moment.  here’s a little ficlet for you, my friend - featuring a bird’s-eye view of the city, more of our fave dudes just being themselves, and a minor reference to something you already read <3

THANK YOU, as always, to everyone who’s having fun playing in this sandbox with me - i hope you enjoy some more of the boys being alive and well in the Good Timeline :D

as before, the same disclaimer applies: this is VERY rough, not meticulously edited, and not even remotely close to a final draft.  it is hardly even a first draft, in fact.  the snippets in this series are not necessarily connected to each other, or in order, or part of any actual coherent plot, and they do not directly adhere to the plan laid out in lovely anon’s original post, either; they are just snapshots of images that refused to remain unillustrated once they’d occurred to me :)

with that said, if you’re looking for more AU fun (thank you again, anon, for this ‘verse!), hit the jump!

4. solid ground

Merlin drummed his boots against the wall beneath him, the stone battlements on either side of him providing some stability for his precarious perch atop the parapet.

From his seated position inside one of the inner curtain wall’s crenels, Merlin could see the entirety of the lower town, and the outer curtain encircling the urban crush, and the Sprawl beyond, a haphazard collection of settlements outside the reach of the city walls, the Crown’s cultivated fields and pastures transforming finally into wilderness, where the land was swallowed by forest.  Directly below, the King’s Works were in full swing, the framing yard at the base of the inner curtain a picture of hustle and bustle, numerous craftsmen unloading heavy timber from a caravan of carts lined up just beside the gate to the upper ward.  A number of other beams were laid out upon the cleared earth in a predetermined pattern, and something vaguely recognizable as a pair of roof supports appeared to have already been joined together at the other end of the yard.  

Merlin had been in the city long enough to know that once the beams for this mystery structure had been measured, cut, and framed, they would be disassembled and carted off to wherever the desired building was to be erected, but he could not have explained in any detail the specific tasks taking place down below.  One worker was marking some of the timbers with chalk symbols just as indecipherable to Merlin as the runes Gaius had recently set him to studying.  Another fellow was chipping away at a beam using something that wasn’t quite pointy enough on either end to be a pickaxe.  Two others appeared to be having some kind of animated argument over a set of timbers that looked all right to Merlin, but mustn’t have been, judging by the amount of arm-waving and indecipherable shouting taking place below.

Will probably could have told Merlin more about it, but Will had not climbed into the crenel.  He stood at Merlin’s back instead, staring determinedly ahead at the distant horizon, as opposed to peering down at the framing yard’s frantic scurry of activity.  

“High up, this,” Will said.

“Saddlegap’s higher.”

“Saddlegap’s up the side of a mountain, though,” Will muttered, his eyes firmly fixed on absolutely nothing.  “Not straight up, like.”  He drummed his fingers nervously on the sharp cut of the raised battlement.  “Never been up anywhere like this.”

Merlin looked at Will, fighting a sudden, surprised urge to laugh.  “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No!” Will retorted, instantly grouchy.  He redirected his gaze - with discernible difficulty, Merlin couldn’t help but note - down to the framing yard, where a pair of tiny figures in brown and white were rolling a log over to a deep depression in the earth.  Once suspended over the hole, the log could be sliced down the middle using a lengthy pit saw.  

Merlin hid a smile.  “Come and sit with me, then.”

Will looked nauseated, though he wiped his face clean of any such expression quickly.  “I’m not sitting in there.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no room.”

Merlin scooted as far over as he could, leaving a space between himself and the merlon to his right.  “There’s plenty.  Come in.”

“I’m not coming in there.”

“Just admit you’re afeared of the drop - ”

“I am not,” Will declared, and to prove it, he climbed into the crenel alongside Merlin, wedging himself into the space between Merlin’s side and the raised masonry of the merlon to their right, sitting there with his feet dangling in the air, upper body squashed between Merlin on one side and solid stone on the other.

Will’s frame was as stiff and unyielding as the log being hewn down below.  Merlin nudged him with an elbow.  “You see?  It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Will echoed through gritted teeth.  “Right.  You’re cracked, Merlin.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Merlin decided not to pursue the potential truth behind that statement, for all that it made him itch.  

Later.  

They could talk about it later.

Instead, he changed the subject, and pointed at a section of the lower town, where there was a dark gap in the layered patchwork of thatched roofs.  “We had a fire over there, the other week.”

Will was not really looking.  He appeared intently focused on a cloud floating at exactly the level of his eyes.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Little one.  Not so bad.  But now I can’t get pies from that fellow’s shop anymore, and that’s rotten luck, because they’re really tasty.”

“What sort?” Will asked, resolutely inspecting his cloud.  “Meat or fruit?”

“All sorts.  You’ve never seen so many pies in your life.  I’d have got you one if I could.”

Will shrugged in his best ‘life is like that’ way.  “Gods rest the pie man.”

“He’s not dead!” 

“Oh.”  

“Gods forbid, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes.  “Sorry, Merlin.  Didn’t realize you were so attached to the man who made your breakfast - ”

“He’s just closed down for a bit.  We’ll have him up and running again soon enough.”

“‘We’ who?”  

“Everybody loves the pie man, Will.  It’s a neighborhood effort, rebuilding him.”

Will tried valiantly to inspect the spot Merlin had pointed at, though his cheeks paled the moment he registered just how far down the pie man’s plot was situated relative to their own spot on top of the wall.  “Bad timing for it,” he said, averting his eyes after only a brief glance.  “For you.”

“Is it?”

Will pointed at the countryside beyond the Sprawl.  “Apples coming in and all.”

“Oof,” Merlin said, never having considered this fact.  “You’re right.”

Will smiled faintly.  “Apple season and no pie man to make Merlin’s favorites.  What’s a poor sorcerer to do?”

Merlin shrugged, affecting an abjectly mournful weariness.  “Die.”

Will snorted.

“Apple pie is serious business, Will.”

“Deadly serious.”

“Obviously.”  Merlin sighed and stretched out his legs over the drop, letting them fall back against the wall with a thunk.  “I’ll nick a few apples for myself, I suppose.  The Crown’s got orchards aplenty.  I’m no hand in the bakehouse - ”

“Too right - ”

“ - but I’ll trade a favor with Gwen, maybe; I reckon she knows what she’s about.”

“Who?”

“Gwen.  You met Gwen.”

“Which one was she?”

“The one in servant’s garb.  She’s got brown skin, curly hair to about here?” 

Will nodded.  Merlin searched the mottled sea of rooftops for Gwen’s house.  Just down the lane from her cottage, smoke rose over the forge, a cloud of fumes that never truly dissipated, even after nightfall.  The smell hung in the air day in and day out, clinging to the straw in the street and the wooden struts of the surrounding structures.  Even the building itself continued to radiate vestiges of heat long after Tom and his crew had gone home for the evening.  

“I think you’d get on with her,” Merlin ventured.  “Gwen’s lovely.  She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?”  Will’s reply was some mix of absent and unconvinced.

“Yeah.  I mean, she’s nicer than you, anyhow.”

“Mm.”

“Not that that’s a particularly high bar to step over.”

“Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitated.  “Maybe I could introduce you to each other.”

“We’ve already met.”

“No, you haven’t, not properly.  You didn’t even remember who she was.”

“I remembered her.  I just didn’t know her name, is all.”

“Well, you didn’t talk to her or anything.”

“Why would I talk to her?  I don’t know her.”

Merlin squirmed in his seat, self-conscious.  “I don’t know.  I just think you’d like her.  She’s not...”  He gestured vaguely behind them, past the slope of the wealthier upper wards and back to the citadel proper.  “You know, she’s not silly like that sort.  She’s plain folk, like us.”

Will was staring straight ahead, past the crowded mess of the lower town and out to the country, beyond the Sprawl’s creeping expanse of civilization.  It was a clear enough day that one could see the hazy jut of the mountains looming in the distance, and - in Merlin’s imagination, at least - the border was there, too, and their home just beyond that, hidden in the foothills, nestled in a little valley behind the White Mountains’ far-reaching roots.

“Gwen helped me a lot when I first came here,” Merlin said.  “Taught me loads.”

“I’m sure she’s brilliant, Merlin,” murmured Will, his eyes locked on the horizon.

“I just thought since you’re here - ”  Merlin stopped himself, sitting up a bit straighter.  “I mean, not that you’re here-here, obviously; but - just staying, you know, not that you’re staying-staying, or anything, just - ”  Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale, unlocking his fingers from where they’d wound themselves into a knot.  “Since you’re here just now, I mean.  I just.  Thought maybe it would be good, you know.  For you to know some people.”

“I don’t think your friend there wants to know me, Merlin.”

“Why not?”

Will raised his eyebrows.  “She thinks I have magic, doesn’t she?”

“That’s - ”  Merlin faltered momentarily.  “It’s just Gwen, I mean, she’s - you’re my friend.  It wouldn’t matter.”

Will gave Merlin a skeptical look.  “Why haven’t you told her your secret, then?”

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again.  The breeze curling through the gap of the crenel was chilly, raising goosebumps on his arms.  

Will shook his head and returned his gaze to the mountains.  “Look, Merlin...if it really didn’t matter, she’d already know.  Let’s not court trouble, all right?  We’re in enough of that as it is.”

“You don’t have to be,” Merlin said, after a brief pause.  “You could go.”

Will did not reply, staring at the White Mountain like he was trying to climb it with his eyes.  Merlin wondered what he was thinking, Will with his closed mouth and his set jaw and his inscrutable frowns.  Did he wish he were back there?  Did he wish he hadn’t left in the first place?

Merlin shifted on the cramped crenel, but there was nowhere for him to go.  “I just thought...it might be good, you know.  For you.  To make friends.

“I’ve got enough friends, Merlin.”

“You’ve only got me.”

“That’s what I said.”

The line of Merlin’s body where it pressed against Will was very warm.  

So was Merlin’s face.  

Merlin was glad suddenly that there was no space on either side of them for either of them to scoot away.  He relaxed where he sat, solid stone on one side and solid Will on the other, the two of them squished and snug against each other in their shared seat.

Will’s frame was hard as a rock, though.  Merlin looked down at Will’s hands, one of which was fisted on his knees and the other of which was wrapped, white-knuckled, around the corner of the battlement.  

“You really don’t like it up here, do you?” Merlin asked, a surprised smile spreading over his face. 

“Hate it,” Will burst out immediately, with a vehement gust of relief.  “It’s wretched.  I can’t believe you’ve got me sitting up here, Merlin; of all the daft, foolheaded places for a person to be - ”

“We can get down,” Merlin laughed, climbing back over onto the walkway.  He wrapped a hand in the fabric of Will’s mantle and jostled him lightly.  “Go on, lean forward.  You’ll get to the bottom quick as anything.”

Will gave Merlin a dirty look and scooted himself very painstakingly out of the crenel, back onto the safety of the ramparts.  

Merlin, hands on his hips, evaluated Will with newfound curiosity.  “And here I thought I knew everything there was to know about you.”

“I’m not afraid of heights, Merlin,” Will said, turning to stride along the line of the wall toward one of the towers that would take them back to the ground.  

“Don’t get tetchy,” Merlin said, following him.  “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“You’d know.”

Merlin did not argue.  Will, for all his formidable powers of perception, hardly knew how true his statement was - Merlin found something new to be afraid of every day, it seemed, now that he was in Camelot.  

“I’d never let you fall off, you know,” Merlin said, tugging open the door to the tower, the creaking hinges echoing down the darkened spiral stair within.

“Oh, aye?”

“Aye, so,” Merlin replied, ushering Will onto the staircase and nodding to a guard headed up in the opposite direction.  “And if you did fall, I’d catch you.”

“You would not,” Will scoffed.  “You’ve never caught anything so big in your life.”

“Not yet.  But I can do all sorts of new things now; I haven’t shown you hardly anything.  Gaius gave me this book - ”

Will groaned.  “Oh, Lugh, Merlin, no.  Not another book.”

“A great big one,” Merlin grinned.  

“Gods alive,” Will muttered.  “This again.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”  Merlin’s grin widened as he tripped his way down the stairs.  “Gaius has all sorts of books, dozens of them; well, you’ve been in his chambers, you already know - and he tosses them all over like it’s nothing; it’s mad; it’s like he doesn’t even care.  Most of them are physician’s texts, I mean, and that’s interesting enough, I suppose, but there’s more, Will, on the lower levels; there’s an entire library; it goes on forever, it’s got everything, it’s - what are you doing?  Where are you going?

Will had turned around and was heading back up the stairs.  He jerked his thumb upwards.  “Back.”

“What for?”

Will did not look round at Merlin, but continued to trudge determinedly up the stairs.  “I’ve decided to take the quick way down after all.”

Merlin snorted and snagged Will’s sleeve in his fingers.  Will, pulling away, put up a valiant show of resistance.  “Just let me jump, Merlin.  I can’t survive another round of this book nonsense.”

“Not on your life.  I’m not spending an evening scraping you off the paving stones.”

Will gave up and allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs, but his face wore the dark, surly look of a man marching to his own execution.  “If you try to read me anything, I’m crawling out your window.”

“Bit high up, that,” Merlin remarked mildly, “for a fellow who’s just discovered he’s afeared of heights.”

“I am not afeared of heights,” Will snapped.  Then, in his most stubborn tone, he added, “The higher the better.  I don’t want to suffer.”

Merlin laughed.  “You might’ve thought on that before you went running off to Camelot, William.”

Will’s face changed slightly.  “Aye, so,” he replied, a touch of something grim in his voice.  “So might you have done, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Merlin bit his tongue on an uncertain reply and shoved Will out the door at the base of the tower, out of the stuffy shadows of the staircase, into an overbright, sunlit afternoon.  

Later, Merlin thought, chivvying Will across what was supposed to be solid ground, though Merlin wasn’t sure, now, if they had really made it to the bottom, after all, for all that there was grass and good earth under their feet.

They could talk about it later.  

[hlupdate]

Harry Styles isn’t exactly dressed down for lunch. He’s got a white floppy hat that Diana Ross might have won from Elton in a poker game at Cher’s mansion circa 1974, plus Gucci shades, a cashmere sweater, and blue denim bell-bottoms. His nail polish is pink and mint green. He’s also carrying his purse — no other word for it — a yellow patent-canvas bag with the logo “Chateau Marmont.” The tough old ladies who work at this Beverly Hills deli know him well. Gloria and Raisa dote on him, calling him “my love” and bringing him his usual tuna salad and iced coffee. He turns heads, to put it mildly, but nobody comes near because the waitresses hover around the booth protectively.

He was just a small-town English lad of 16 when he became his generation’s pop idol with One Direction. When the group went on hiatus, he struck out on his own with his brash 2017 solo debut, whose lead single was the magnificently over-the-top six-minute piano ballad “Sign of the Times.” Even people who missed out on One Direction were shocked to learn the truth: This pinup boy was a rock star at heart.

A quick highlight reel of Harry’s 2019 so far: He hosted the Met Gala with Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele, and Anna Wintour serving an eyebrow-raising black lace red-carpet look. He is the official face of a designer genderless fragrance, Gucci’s Mémoire d’une Odeur. When James Corden had an all-star dodgeball match on The Late Late Show, Harry got spiked by a hard serve from Michelle Obama, making him perhaps the first Englishman ever hit in the nads on TV by a First Lady.

Closer to his heart, he brought down the house at this year’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony with his tribute to his friend and idol Stevie Nicks. “She’s always there for you,” Harry said in his speech. “She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl.” He added, “She’s responsible for more running mascara — including my own — than all the bad dates in history.” (Backstage, Nicks accidentally referred to Harry’s former band as “’NSync.” Hey, a goddess can get away with that sort of thing.)

Harry has been the world’s It boy for nearly a decade now. The weirdest thing about him? He loves being this guy. In a style of fast-lane celebrity that takes a ruthless toll on the artist’s personality, creativity, sanity, Harry is almost freakishly at ease. He has managed to grow up in public with all his boyish enthusiasm intact, not to mention his manners. He’s dated a string of high-profile women — but he never gets caught uttering any of their names in public, much less shading any of them. Instead of going the usual superstar-pop route — en vogue producers, celebrity duets, glitzy club beats — he’s gone his own way, and gotten more popular than ever. He’s putting the finishing touches on his new album, full of the toughest, most soulful songs he’s written yet. As he explains, “It’s all about having sex and feeling sad.”

The Harry Charm is a force of nature, and it can be almost frightening to witness in action. The most startling example might be a backstage photo from February taken with one of his heroes, Van Morrison. You have never seen a Van picture like this one. He’s been posing for photos for 50 years, and he’s been refusing to crack a smile in nearly all of them. Until he met Harry — for some reason, Van beams like a giddy schoolgirl. What did Harry do to him? “I was tickling him behind his back,” Harry confides. “Somebody sent me that photo — I think his tour manager took it. When I saw it, I felt like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction opening the case with the gold light shining. I was like, ‘Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t show this to anyone.’”

In interviews, Harry has always tended to coast on that charm, simply because he can. In his teens, he was in public every minute and became adept at guarding every scrap of his privacy. But these days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. “Looser” is how he puts it. “More open. I’m discovering how much better it makes me feel to be open with friends. Feeling that vulnerability, rather than holding everything in.”

Like a lot of people his age, he’s asking questions about culture, gender, identity, new ideas about masculinity and sexuality. “I feel pretty lucky to have a group of friends who are guys who would talk about their emotions and be really open,” he says. “My friend’s dad said to me, ‘You guys are so much better at it than we are. I never had friends I could really talk to. It’s good that you guys have each other because you talk about real shit. We just didn’t.’”

It’s changed how he approaches his songs. “For me, it doesn’t mean I’ll sit down and be like, ‘This is what I have for dinner, and this is where I eat every day, and this is what I do before I go to bed,’” he says. “But I will tell you that I can be really pathetic when I’m jealous. Feeling happier than I’ve ever been, sadder than I’ve ever been, feeling sorry for myself, being mad at myself, being petty and pitiful — it feels really different to share that.”

At times, Harry sounds like an ordinary 25-year-old figuring his shit out, which, of course, he is. (Harry and I got to know each other last year, when he got in touch after reading one of my books, though I’d already been writing about his music for years.) It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

We slip out the back and spend a Saturday afternoon cruising L.A. in his 1972 silver Jaguar E-type. The radio doesn’t work, so we just sing “Old Town Road.” He marvels, “‘Bull riding and boobies’ — that is potentially the greatest lyric in any song ever.” Harry used to be pop’s mystery boy, so diplomatic and tight-lipped. But as he opens up over time, telling his story, he reaches the point where he’s pitching possible headlines for this profile. His best: “Soup, Sex, and Sun Salutations.”

How did he get to this new place? As it turns out, the journey involves some heartbreak. Some guidance from David Bowie. Some Transcendental Meditation. And more than a handful of magic mushrooms. But mostly, it comes down to a curious kid who can’t decide whether to be the world’s most ardently adored pop star, or a freaky artiste. So he decides to be both.

Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars. A few days after Harry proclaimed the genius of “Old Town Road,” we’re in a different ride — a Tesla — cruising the Pacific Coast Highway while Harry sings along to the radio. “Californiaaaaaa!” he yells from behind the wheel as we whip past Zuma Beach. “It sucks!” There’s a surprising number of couples along the beach who seem to be arguing. We speculate on which ones are breaking up and which are merely having the talk. “Ah, yes, the talk,” Harry says dreamily. “Ye olde chat.”

Harry is feeling the smooth Seventies yacht-rock grooves today, blasting Gerry Rafferty, Pablo Cruise, Hall and Oates. When I mention that Nina Simone once did a version of “Rich Girl,” he needs to hear it right away. He counters by blowing my mind with Donny Hathaway’s version of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy.”

Harry raves about a quintessential SoCal trip he just tried: a “cold sauna,” a process that involves getting locked in an ice chamber. His eyelashes froze. We stop for a smoothie (“It’s basically ice cream”) and his favorite pepper-intensive wheatgrass shot. It goes down like a dose of battery acid. “That’ll add years to your life,” he assures me.

We’re on our way to Shangri-La studios in Malibu, founded by the Band back in the 1970s, now owned by Rick Rubin. It’s where Harry made some of the upcoming album, and as we walk in, he grins at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Did a lot of mushrooms in here.”

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.”

It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

Some of the engineers come over to catch up on gossip. Harry gestures out the window to the Pacific waves, where the occasional nude revelry might have happened, and where the occasional pair of pants got lost. “There was one night where we’d been partying a bit and ended up going down to the beach and I lost all my stuff, basically,” he says. “I lost all my clothes. I lost my wallet. Maybe a month later, somebody found my wallet and mailed it back, anonymously. I guess it just popped out of the sand. But what’s sad is, I lost my favorite mustard corduroy flares.” A moment of silence is held for the corduroy flares.

Recording in the studio today is Brockhampton, the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest boy band.” Harry says hi to all the Brockhampton guys, which takes a while since there seem to be a few dozen of them. “We’re together all the time,” one tells Harry out in the yard. “We see each other all day, every day.” He pauses. “You know how it is.”

Harry breaks into a dry grin. “Yes, I know how it is.”

One Direction made three of this century’s biggest and best pop albums in a rush — Midnight Memories, Four and Made in the A.M. Yet they cut those records on tour, ducking into the nearest studio when they had a day off. 1D were a unique mix of five different musical personalities: Harry, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne. But the pace took its toll. Malik quit in the middle of a tour, immediately after a show in Hong Kong. The band announced its hiatus in August 2015.

It’s traditional for boy-band singers, as they go solo and grow up, to renounce their pop past. Everybody remembers George Michael setting his leather jacket on fire, or Sting quitting the Police to make jazz records. This isn’t really Harry Styles’ mentality. “I know it’s the thing that always happens. When somebody gets out of a band, they go, ‘That wasn’t me. I was held back.’ But it was me. And I don’t feel like I was held back at all. It was so much fun. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like I was tied to a radiator.”

Whenever Harry mentions One Direction — never by name, always “the band” or “the band I was in” — he uses the past tense. It is my unpleasant duty to ask: Does he see 1D as over? “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d ever say I’d never do it again, because I don’t feel that way. If there’s a time when we all really want to do it, that’s the only time for us to do it, because I don’t think it should be about anything else other than the fact that we’re all like, ‘Hey, this was really fun. We should do this again.’ But until that time, I feel like I’m really enjoying making music and experimenting. I enjoy making music this way too much to see myself doing a full switch, to go back and do that again. Because I also think if we went back to doing things the same way, it wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

When the band stopped, did he take those friendships with him? “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Definitely. Because above all else, we’re the people who went through that. We’re always going to have that, even if we’re not the closest. And the fact is, just because you’re in a band with someone doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. That’s not always how it works. Just because Fleetwood Mac fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not amazing. I think even in the disagreements, there’s always a mutual respect for each other — we did this really cool thing together, and we’ll always have that. It’s too important to me to ever be like, ‘Oh, that’s done.’ But if it happens, it will happen for the right reasons.”

If the intensity of the Harry fandom ever seems mysterious to you, there’s a live clip you might want to investigate, from the summer of 2018. Just search the phrase “Tina, she’s gay.” In San Jose, on one of the final nights of his tour, Harry spots a fan with a homemade sign: “I’m Gonna Come Out to My Parents Because of You!” He asks the fan her name (she says it’s Grace) and her mother’s name (Tina). He asks the audience for silence because he has an important announcement to make: “Tina! She’s gaaaaay!” Then he has the entire crowd say it together. Thousands of strangers start yelling “Tina, she’s gay,” and every one of them clearly means it — it’s a heavy moment, definitely not a sound you forget after you hear it. Then Harry sings “What Makes You Beautiful.” (Of course, the way things work now, the clip went viral within minutes. So did Grace’s photo of Tina giving a loving thumbs-up to her now-out teenage daughter. Grace and Tina attended Harry’s next show together.)

Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. He’s dated women throughout his life as a public figure, yet he has consistently refused to put any kind of label on his sexuality. On his first solo tour, he frequently waved the pride, bi, and trans flags, along with the Black Lives Matter flag. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: “Make America Gay Again.” One of the live fan favorites: “Medicine,” a guitar jam that sounds a bit like the Grateful Dead circa Europe ’72, but with a flamboyantly pansexual hook: “The boys and girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it.”

He’s always had a flair for flourishes like this, since the 1D days. An iconic clip from November 2014: Harry and Liam are on a U.K. chat show. The host asks the oldest boy-band fan-bait question in the book: What do they look for in a date? “Female,” Liam quips. “That’s a good trait.” Harry shrugs. “Not that important.” Liam is taken aback. The host is in shock. On tour in the U.S. that year, he wore a Michael Sam football jersey, in support of the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team. He’s blown up previously unknown queer artists like King Princess and Muna.

What do those flags onstage mean to him? “I want to make people feel comfortable being whatever they want to be,” he says. “Maybe at a show you can have a moment of knowing that you’re not alone. I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows. I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.”

On tour, he had an End Gun Violence sticker on his guitar; he added a Black Lives Matter sticker, as well as the flag. “It’s not about me trying to champion the cause, because I’m not the person to do that,” he says. “It’s just about not ignoring it, I guess. I was a little nervous to do that because the last thing I wanted was for it to feel like I was saying, ‘Look at me! I’m the good guy!’ I didn’t want anyone who was really involved in the movement to think, ‘What the fuck do you know?’ But then when I did it, I realized people got it. Everyone in that room is on the same page and everyone knows what I stand for. I’m not saying I understand how it feels. I’m just trying to say, ‘I see you.’”

At one of his earliest solo shows, in Stockholm, he announced, “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you. I love every single one of you.” “It’s a room full of accepting people.… If you’re someone who feels like an outsider, you’re not always in a big crowd like that,” he says. “It’s not about, ‘Oh, I get what it’s like,’ because I don’t. For example, I go walking at night before bed most of the time. I was talking about that with a female friend and she said, ‘Do you feel safe doing that?’ And I do. But when I walk, I’m more aware that I feel OK to walk at night, and some of my friends wouldn’t. I’m not saying I know what it feels like to go through that. It’s just being aware.”

‘Man cannot live by coffee alone,” Harry says. “But he will give it a damn good try.” He sips his iced Americano — not his first today, or his last. He’s back behind the wheel, on a mission to yet another studio — but this time for actual work. Today it’s string overdubs. Harry is dressed in Gucci from head to toe, except for one item of clothing: a ratty Seventies rock T-shirt he proudly scavenged from a vintage shop. It says “Commander Quaalude.”

On the drive over, he puts on the jazz pianist Bill Evans — “Peace Piece,” from 1959, which is the wake-up tone on his phone. He just got into jazz during a long sojourn in Japan. He likes to find places to hide out and be anonymous: For his first album, he decamped to Jamaica. Over the past year, he spent months roaming Japan.

In February, he spent his 25th birthday sitting by himself in a Tokyo cafe, reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. “I love Murakami,” he says. “He’s one of my favorites. Reading didn’t really used to be my thing. I had such a short attention span. But I was dating someone who gave me some books; I felt like I had to read them because she’d think I was a dummy if I didn’t read them.”

A friend gave him Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. “It was the first book, maybe ever, where all I wanted to do all day was read this,” he says. “I had a very Murakami birthday because I ended up staying in Tokyo on my own. I had grilled fish and miso soup for breakfast, then I went to this cafe. I sat and drank tea and read for five hours.”

In the studio, he’s overseeing the string quartet. He has the engineers play T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” for them, to illustrate the vibe he’s going for. You can see he enjoys being on this side of the glass, sitting at the Neve board, giving his instructions to the musicians. After a few run-throughs, he presses the intercom button to say, “Yeah, it’s pretty T. Rex. Best damn strings I ever heard.” He buzzes again to add, “And you’re all wonderful people.”

He’s curated his own weird enclave of kindred spirits to collaborate with, like producers Jeff Bhasker and Tyler Johnson. His guitarist Mitch Rowland was working at an L.A. pizza shop when Harry met him. They started writing songs for the debut; Rowland didn’t quit his job until two weeks into the sessions. One of his closest collaborators is also one of his best friends: Tom Hull, a.k.a. Kid Harpoon, a longtime cohort of Florence and the Machine. Hull is an effusive Brit with a heart-on-sleeve personality. Harry calls him “my emotional rock.” Hull calls him “Gary.”

Hull was the one who talked him into taking a course on Transcendental Meditation at David Lynch’s institute — beginning each day with 20 minutes of silence, which doesn’t always come naturally to either of them. “He’s got this wise-beyond-his-years timelessness about him,” Hull says. “That’s why he went on a whole emotional exploration with these songs.” He’s 12 years older, with a wife and kids in Scotland, and talks about Harry like an irreverent but doting big brother.

Last year, Harry was in the gossip columns dating the French model Camille Rowe; they split up last summer after a year together. “He went through this breakup that had a big impact on him,” Hull says. “I turned up on Day One in the studio, and I had these really nice slippers on. His ex-girlfriend that he was really cut up about, she gave them to me as a present — she bought slippers for my whole family. We’re still close friends with her. I thought, ‘I like these slippers. Can I wear them — is that weird?’

“So I turn up at Shangri-La the first day and literally within the first half-hour, he looks at me and says, ‘Where’d you get those slippers? They’re nice.’ I had to say, ‘Oh, um, your ex-girlfriend got them for me.’ He said, ‘Whaaaat? How could you wear those?’ He had a whole emotional journey about her, this whole relationship. But I kept saying, ‘The best way of dealing with it is to put it in these songs you’re writing.’”

True to his code of gallant discretion, Harry doesn’t say her name at any point. But he admits the songs are coming from personal heartbreak. “It’s not like I’ve ever sat and done an interview and said, ‘So I was in a relationship, and this is what happened,’” he says. “Because, for me, music is where I let that cross over. It’s the only place, strangely, where it feels right to let that cross over.”

The new songs are certainly charged with pain. “The stars didn’t align for them to be a forever thing,” Hull says. “But I told him that famous Iggy Pop quote where he says, ‘I only ever date women who are going to fuck me up, because that’s where the songs are.’ I said, ‘You’re 24, 25 years old, you’re in the eligible-bachelor category. Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up, and explore and have an adventure and let it affect you and write songs about it.’”

His band is full of indie rockers who’ve gotten swept up in Hurricane Harry. Before becoming his iconic drum goddess, Sarah Jones played in New Young Pony Club, a London band fondly remembered by a few dozen of us. Rowland and Jones barely knew anything about One Direction before they met Harry — the first time they heard “Story of My Life” was when he asked them to play it. Their conversation is full of references to Big Star or Guided by Voices or the Nils Lofgren guitar solo in Neil Young’s “Speakin’ Out.” This is a band full of shameless rock geeks, untainted by industry professionalism.

In the studio, while making the album, Harry kept watching a vintage Bowie clip on his phone — a late-Nineties TV interview I’d never seen. As he plays it for me, he recites along — he’s got the rap memorized. “Never play to the gallery,” Bowie advises. “Never work for other people in what you do.” For Harry, this was an inspiring pep talk — a reminder not to play it safe. As Bowie says, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you are capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

He got so obsessive about Joni Mitchell and her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties.” He found her living in Culver City. “She said, ‘Come and see me,’” Hull says. “We turn up at her house and he said, ‘How do you even play a dulcimer?’ She gave us a lesson. Then she got a bongo and we were all jamming with these big Cheshire Cat grins.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on the new album. “Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, those are my two favorites,” he says. “Blue and Astral Weeks are just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane.”

He’s always been the type to go overboard with his fanboy enthusiasms, ever since he was a kid and got his mind blown by Pulp Fiction. “I watched it when I was probably too young,” he admits. “But when I was 13, I saved up money from my paper route to buy a ‘Bad Motherfucker’ wallet. Just a stupid white kid in the English countryside with that wallet.” While in Japan, he got obsessively into Paul McCartney and Wings, especially London Town and Back to the Egg. “In Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.”

He credits meditation for helping to loosen him up. “I was such a skeptic going in,” he says. “But I think meditation has helped with worrying about the future less, and the past less. I feel like I take a lot more in—things that used to pass by me because I was always rushing around. It’s part of being more open and talking with friends. It’s not always the easiest to go in a room and say, ‘I made a mistake and it made me feel like this, and then I cried a bunch.’ But that moment where you really let yourself be in that zone of being vulnerable, you reach this feeling of openness. That’s when you feel like, ‘Oh, I’m fucking living, man.’”

After quite a few hours of recording the string quartet, a bottle of Casamigos tequila is opened. Commander Quaalude pours the drinks, then decides what the song needs now is a gaggle of nonsingers bellowing the chorus. “Muppet vocals” is how he describes it. He drags everyone in sight to crowd around the mics. Between takes, he wanders over to the piano to play Harry Nilsson’s “Gotta Get Up.” One of the choir members, creative director Molly Hawkins, is the friend who gave him the Murakami novel. “I think every man should read Norwegian Wood,” she says. “Harry’s the only man I’ve given it to who actually read it.”

It’s been a hard day’s night in the studio, but after hours, everyone heads to a dive bar on the other side of town to see Rowland play a gig. He’s sitting in with a local bar band, playing bass. Harry drives around looking for the place, taking in the sights of downtown L.A. (“Only a city as narcissistic as L.A. would have a street called Los Angeles Street,” he says.) He strolls in and leans against the bar in the back of the room. It’s an older crowd, and nobody here has any clue who he is. He’s entirely comfortable lurking incognito in a dim gin joint. After the gig, as the band toasts with PBRs, an old guy in a ball cap strolls over and gives Rowland a proud bear hug. It’s his boss from the pizza shop.

In the wee hours, Harry drives down a deserted Sunset Boulevard, his favorite time of night to explore the city streets, arguing over which is the best Steely Dan album. He insists that Can’t Buy a Thrill is better than Countdown to Ecstasy (wrongly), and seals his case by turning it up and belting “Midnight Cruiser” with truly appalling gusto. Tonight Hollywood is full of bright lights, glitzy clubs, red carpets, but the prettiest pop star in town is behind the wheel, singing along with every note of the sax solo from “Dirty Work.”

A few days later, on the other side of the world: Harry’s pad in London is lavish, yet very much a young single dude’s lair. Over here: a wall-size framed Sex Pistols album cover. Over there: a vinyl copy of Stevie Nicks’ The Other Side of the Mirror, casually resting on the floor. He’s having a cup of tea with his mum, Anne, the spitting image of her son, all grace and poise. “We’re off to the pub,” he tells her. “We’re going to talk some shop.” She smiles sweetly. “Talk some shit, probably,” says Anne.

We head off to his local, sloshing through the rain. He’s wearing a Spice World hoodie and savoring the soggy London-osity of the day. “Ah, Londres!” he says grandly. “I missed this place.” He wants to sit at a table outside, even though it’s pouring, and we chat away the afternoon over a pot of mint tea and a massive plate of fish and chips. When I ask for toast, the waitress brings out a loaf of bread roughly the size of a wheelbarrow. “Welcome to England,” Harry says.

He’s always had a fervent female fandom, and, admirably, he’s never felt a need to pretend he doesn’t love it that way. “They’re the most honest — especially if you’re talking about teenage girls, but older as well,” he says. “They have that bullshit detector. You want honest people as your audience. We’re so past that dumb outdated narrative of ‘Oh, these people are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talking about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about. They’re the people who listen obsessively. They fucking own this shit. They’re running it.”

He doesn’t have the uptightness some people have about sexual politics, or about identifying as a feminist. “I think ultimately feminism is thinking that men and women should be equal, right? People think that if you say ‘I’m a feminist,’ it means you think men should burn in hell and women should trample on their necks. No, you think women should be equal. That doesn’t feel like a crazy thing to me. I grew up with my mum and my sister — when you grow up around women, your female influence is just bigger. Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want a lot of credit for being a feminist. It’s pretty simple. I think the ideals of feminism are pretty straightforward.”

His audience has a reputation for ferocity, and the reputation is totally justified. At last summer’s show at Madison Square Garden, the floor was wobbling during “Kiwi” — I’ve been seeing shows there since the 1980s, but I’d never seen that happen before. (The only other time? His second night.) His bandmates admit they feared for their lives, but Harry relished it. “To me, the greatest thing about the tour was that the room became the show,” he says. “It’s not just me.” He sips his tea. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a room, asking them to bear with him.”

That evening, Fleetwood Mac take the stage in London — a sold-out homecoming gig at Wembley Stadium, the last U.K. show of their tour. Needless to say, their most devoted fan is in the house. Harry has brought a date: his mother, her first Fleetwood Mac show. He’s also with his big sister Gemma, bandmates Rowland and Jones, a couple of friends.

He’s in hyperactive-host mode, buzzing around his cozy VIP box, making sure everyone’s champagne glass is topped off at all times. As soon as the show begins, Harry’s up on his feet, singing along (“Tell me, tell me liiiiies!”) and cracking jokes. You can tell he feels free — as if his radar is telling him there aren’t snoopers or paparazzi watching. (He’s correct. This is a rare public appearance where nobody spots him and no photos leak online.) It’s family night. His friend Mick Fleetwood wilds out on the drum solo. “Imagine being that cool,” Gemma says.

Midway through the show, Harry’s demeanor suddenly changes. He gets uncharacteristically solemn and quiet, sitting down by himself and focusing intently on the stage. It’s the first time all night he’s taken a seat. He’s in a different zone than he was in a few minutes ago. But he’s seen many Fleetwood Mac shows, and he knows where they are in the set. It’s time for “Landslide.” He sits with his chin in hand, his eyes zeroing in on Stevie Nicks. As usual, she introduces her most famous song with the story of how she wrote it when she was just a lass of 27.

But Stevie has something else she wants to share. She tells the stadium crowd, “I’d like to dedicate this to my little muse, Harry Styles, who brought his mother tonight. Her name is Anne. And I think you did a really good job raising Harry, Anne. Because he’s really a gentleman, sweet and talented, and, boy, that appeals to me. So all of you, this is for you.”

As Stevie starts to sing “Landslide” — “I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around youuuu” — Anne walks over to where Harry sits. She crouches down behind him, reaches her arms around him tightly. Neither of them says a word. They listen together and hold each other close to the very end of the song. Everybody in Wembley is singing along with Stevie, but these two are in a world of their own.

[sinceileftyoublog]

The Versions of Shannon Lay

Photo by Denée Segall

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The story of how LA-based folk singer-songwriter Shannon Lay came to commit to music full-time is legendary. It’s akin to Radiohead seeing Jeff Buckley live leading to Thom Yorke’s heartbreaking performance on “Fake Plastic Trees”, but this time, it’s a different kind of inspirational folk luminary. Lay watched Jessica Pratt’s quiet, contemplative, yet all-encompassing music dominate a room; if there’s a demand for it, she, too, could do it, she thought after watching Pratt’s set. Lay decided to quit her job of 7 years at a vintage shop in August of 2017, the month being the namesake of her best album to date and one of the finest of 2019.

August exemplifies so much that Lay does well. The surprisingly linear spontaneity of opener “Death Up Close”--which starts with a misstep and eventually features a Mikal Cronin saxophone solo--is contrasted by the flaneur of “Nowhere”, an ode to enjoying the circular journey without an end, where her voice travels in the opposite direction of the song’s lilting melody. “Will I ever see through?” Lay asks, but not too bothered, layered over drums and hand claps. She sees the humor and delight in the smallest moments: Gorgeous and simple standout “Shuffling Stoned” is a scene in a record store in New York City, a customer buying weed from his dealer as small spider crawls on his stack of records. Many people would want the spider killed, but Lay sees it as no less a sign of life than anybody else. Most remarkable is “November”, dedicated to the woman left behind, Molly Drake, the mother of the late Nick. “Molly did you feel the sting / Of November songs gone quiet,” she asks, again not expecting an answer but knowing that asking the question, embodying another’s state of mind, is what’s important. 

Live last month at Lincoln Hall opening for Cronin, Lay and her band members (Denée Segall, Sofia Arreguin, and Shelby Jacobson) were effortlessly good. August songs like “Sea Came to Shore”, in studio just guitar and violin plucks, were much more forceful on stage, while old favorites like “Parked” allowed Lay to show off her finger-picking and English folk chops. The band ended their set with an a capella, almost unrecognizable version of Italo house classic “Everybody Everybody” by Black Box, further cementing Lay’s ability to adapt material to suit her style. The audience, even one prepared for the hell-raiser to follow, loved it. It makes sense; if anybody has experience slaying in front of all types of crowds, it’s Lay, who also plays in Ty Segall’s Freedom Band. She’s thankfully unafraid to call out talkers when necessary, as she told me over the phone earlier this year. “Nick Drake quit halfway through his first tour because people were talking during his set,” she reminded me. “People [who talk] don’t have empathy...they’ve never been up on stage,” she added. Ever the wise reader of people, but one too thankful to let it get to her too much, Lay moves on.

During our interview, Lay shared the stories behind some of the songs, videos, and lines from August, as well as explained her inspiration from The Simpsons, true crime, and Nick Drake and Karen Dalton. Read our conversation, edited for length and clarity, below. 

at Lincoln Hall

Since I Left You: A lot of the context of the album you’ve shared in other interviews or through the bio. Is there something else the listener might not pick up in terms of how August is unique as compared to your past releases?

Shannon Lay: I wanted this one to be overtly positive. Not as moody as my last ones. I think that was the main difference that I felt--this undercurrent of joy I had never really had making a record. There was always a heartache involved or a brooding of the state of the world. Now, more than ever, I feel like you gotta do what you want to do. Being able to experience and appreciate that and encouraging other people to do that too.

SILY: Did doing music full-time help you think about things in new ways?

SL: Yeah, for sure. It kind of freed up so much brain space that was taken up by the usual life stuff. It was cool to put all of my energy into one thing I cared about so much. It was a really amazing experience I had never really had.

SILY: What was your job?

SL: I was working at a vintage store called Squaresville. It was a great little store. I grew up there, working there from 19-26. Really formative years of my life. The store bought clothes from the public, so there were all these new faces coming in. The staff would have been an amazing sitcom. Everyone was just the most incredible character. It was a ton of fun. My boss at the time was just so supportive--always let me go on tour and come back. She was a huge reason I was able to do this in the first place.

SILY: That’s nice to hear. A lot of the time when you hear about these types of stories, it’s about escaping some sort of soul-sucking desk job.

SL: I was very lucky. I had a cool environment to be in.

SILY: Do you still keep up with them?

SL: Yeah, for sure!

SILY: The first song on the record--does that start with a recorded misstep?

SL: Yeah, it was a total accident. As we were going through the tape, I just fell in love with that moment. The song comes in so quick, it was kind of a “Roll it!” moment, and then the record just goes.

SILY: So it was something you just heard and were like, “We should keep that in”?

SL: Totally. When we were doing the mastering, they had taken it out, since they thought it was a mistake--we were like, “Put it back in! Put it back in!”

SILY: Where did you get the idea for the video for “Death Up Close”?

SL: Me and the director, Matt Yoka, we had been talking about that idea for a year. We finally had just enough money to pull it off. Matt’s the best in the sense that when he gets an idea in his head, he’s going to make it happen no matter what, so we just had the most fun ever. We built all of it. Everybody was so nice. Most of the people were just volunteering. The concept behind it was mainly the idea of having a safe space in your mind that’s never changing no matter how much you change. For me, that’s obviously The Simpsons, my total safe haven, end all be all childhood memory show, and something I still watch every day. It was amazing to become yellow.

SILY: Is there a specific line or joke from The Simpsons that you think about all the time?

SL: The one that comes to mind is such a weird deep cut. There are tons of them. [laughs] There’s one where George Bush moves into the Simpsons’ neighborhood...this is not funny to anybody...there’s one point where Bart comes over and George Bush yells to Barbara Bush, “Bart’s here, we gotta get him out of here,” or something, and she’s just like, “I’m making pies, it’ll be a while!” That’s the joke that I think of. [laughs] There’s so many. I also love the one where Lisa starts to play hockey and Marge has Milhouse’s teeth from the show before. I’m just like, “Stop showin’ us those.”

SILY: There are so many good Easter Eggs.

SL: Yeah, totally.

SILY: What was the story behind your video for “Nowhere”?

SL: I did that one with my house mate Chris [Slater]. He’s a great director. We just used our phones for that one. I found an 8 MM app that was available. We just went around our neighborhood taking some footage, and he put his editing magic on it. I really like the way that one came out. It was a cool visual moment.

I wish music videos had more of an impact, but I think they’ve become this weird thing. You remember back in the day, Making the Video, and they had a yacht, and it was this huge thing...the new Missy Elliott video totally harks back to it, like she has different looks and different dancers.

SILY: The song “November” references Nick Drake’s mother. You see a lot of songs about a prolific or important singer-songwriter who left too soon. Why did you decide to explore the perspective of his mom?

SL: I guess sort of the fact that he did live at home. It was just a normal night that he went to sleep, woke up, had a bowl of cereal, and took one too many pills. I just imagine his mom waking up in the morning and feeling this silence in the house. It just must have been such a crazy moment. I don’t think it was any secret he had some emotional problem, but you never expect anything like that to happen. Putting myself in her shoes for a minute, and feeling such a strong presence leave the world, it must have been really emotional and intense. At the same time, what he left behind was incredible. He’ll live forever. He’s more alive now than he’s ever been because of how many people have discovered his music. I was thinking about the inherent sadness of losing a loved one, especially someone where everyone outside of them could see their potential, but maybe they’re struggling. It’s a whole thing. [laughs]

SILY: I love the story behind “Shuffling Stone”. Do you like spiders?

SL: I do love spiders. Not when they’re on me, but I do like spiders.

SILY: “Something On Your Mind” was released before this record was even announced. Had you always planned on putting it on the record?

SL: I didn’t, but it just became clear to me that it sums up what I’m trying to portray and how I’m feeling. The amount of people who don’t know who Karen Dalton is--I’d love to spread more awareness of her. I discovered that song relatively recently and it really hit me, so I started playing it live, acoustic guitar and vocals. Whenever someone did know that song, they’d be like, “Dude, thank you so much for playing that song. I love that song.” I think it’s that kind of a tune. If you have a relationship with it, it’s incredibly special, and to discover it is a really beautiful thing. I hope it points people in her direction.

SILY: What made you want to sign with Sub Pop?

SL: When we first finished the record, I kind of did an email blast and sent the record to all the labels we like. Sub Pop got back so fast and were so stoked. I was surprised because they don’t strike me as an overtly folk label, but that was exciting to me to, to be like, “Hell yeah, let’s bring a new perspective to this established, wonderful thing.” Then I met some people from there, and they were the most wonderful people. I’ve never really experienced the resources they have before. There’s a social media guy, and a PR girl. Everybody is working so hard in their specialized zones. It’s amazing to experience and be a part of. They just seemed so down to earth while also being very professional and serious at the same time. They’re awesome.

SILY: They are pretty stylistically diverse even if they haven’t done much folk. Your sound fits just because of that.

SL: Totally, yeah. It opens a lot of doors in my mind of what I could do.

SILY: I read one review that said Jessica Pratt inspired you to dedicate all your time to music.

SL: The first time that I saw her play, I was super deep in the rock scene. I had always been in really loud bands, considering that people want to see that kind of music. I saw her open for Kevin Morby in LA, and the whole room was silent, and she was just captivating everyone. It was incredible to watch. I immediately went home and booked my first solo show. I had no idea people wanted this kind of music, and I had been making that kind of music, so let’s see what happens, let me book a show. She was totally the catalyst for that. I was so in awe of the simplicity and the beauty of what she was bringing to the table. Music like what she makes has a lasting power and timelessness where you can be anyone and anywhere in the world and people will be captivated. It’s amazing.

SILY: Is it hard for you to switch back and forth between your solo shows and playing in bands?

SL: It’s kind of easy. It’s a matter of mindset and what alcohol you’re consuming. [laughs] I always go tequila for the loud shows, wine for the quiet shows. We’re saying the same things, but in very different ways. It’s kind of nice to have both perspectives.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art for the new record?

SL: The guy who took the photo, Matt Reamer, mentioned he wanted to do more portrait photography. He had always a lot of live stuff. We took photos, and as I was going through them, I came across that photo. I love how ambiguous it is. I could be thinking about anything in that photo. It’s whatever you want it to be. I had the idea of getting people to do different versions of it, and it became this cool, unique thing of these different perspectives and the evolution of me in the past year. I’ve been doing a ton of cleaning house, checking in, and learning new things about myself and not taking myself too seriously. It’s been a hell of a journey, and seeing these four versions of me felt really appropriate for the record.

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter who’s always working on new songs?

SL: I’ve been kind of stuck lately, because I’ve had a lot of stuff to work on, but there’s always a ton of voice memos on my phone, little snippets I work on in the car. I look forward to when I have a block of time where I can sit down. I’ve written quite a bit of the next record, but I probably have 5-6 songs to go. I’m excited to get back into it.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

SL: I just watched Euphoria. That was really good. It really inspired my eyeliner game. I’m always listening to a lot of true crime. I’m a big true crime buff. It fascinates me--the extremity of people’s actions. That’s what that song “Wild” is about on August--the things we’re capable of.

SILY: That line, “We are kind things capable of the most evil,” is very fitting. You kind of nail nature versus nurture in just that line.

SL: Yeah, totally. It’s wild. [laughs] The age old question.

SILY: Are you a Forensic Files fan?

SL: I am! Whenever I’m in a hotel room, I know it’s gonna be on, and I’m stoked.

SILY: My girlfriend and I struggle to find new episodes. It’s always our “before bed” show, and we’ll start one and midway through be like, “Wait, we’ve seen this one.”

SL: Have you ever listened to a podcast called Small Town Dicks? It’s the voice of Lisa Simpson, Yeardley Smith, and she has this podcast. It’s amazing because it sounds like Lisa Simpson doing a true crime podcast, but it’s also amazing stories.

Album score: 8.5/10

[thecomedybureau]

The 100 Best Things in Comedy We Were Witness to in No Particular Order of 2016

2016 is officially, finally, thankfully over (as long as you don’t think about time largely being a human construct, a new number of year doesn’t make things automatically better, and Trump becoming POTUS).

So, it’s time for our year end list, The 100 Best Things in Comedy We Were Witness to in No Particular Order of 2016.

For reference of how we do our year-end, best of lists, which is a far cry from most other comedy best of lists anywhere else, check out our lists from past years: 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and 2015.

Got it? Great.

Here’s 2016′s edition:

1. Jake Weisman's Send Up of Peter Travers Reviews-Rolling Stone has gone through so much recently, you might have forgot this amazing NSFW parody that Weisman made of Travers movie reviews.

2. Rory Scovel’s set on Conan Where He Went Into the Crowd-Rory Scovel pushes the envelope in stand-up in the best ways imaginable and this latest Conan set is evidence of his juggling of being fearless and silly at the same time.

3. Conan Without Borders-Conan O'Brien's trips overseas to Berlin and South Korea highlight every single comedy gear that Conan can shift into and proves that he can almost make any situation hilarious.

4. "Killer" by Matt Kazman-Kazman achieves one of the best comedic payoffs on screen in 2016, including film and TV, with this incredibly crafted short film.

5. The Jackie and Laurie Show-Jackie Kashian and Laurie Kilmartin found a way to make a podcast where comedians talk comedy and have it be original, damn funny, and crucial.

6  Hebecky Drysbell-Reigning all time UCB Cagematch champions Heather Anne Campbell and Rebecca Drysdale showcase such virtuosity as an improv duo that is as hilarious as it is, when we think about it, beautiful.

7. Chris Estrada-If you’re looking for diamonds in the rough right now, we’d say catch Estrada’s next set and you’ll see how great his jokes are drawing from his life growing up in LA. 

8. Cool Sh*t/Weird Sh*t's Neighborhood Walking Tour-the LA outfit of the experimental comedy show brilliantly took its audience, one night, around the block and staged such moments as a couple fake fighting in a real Food 4 Less, a woman crying trying to explain the plot of a movie in a Walgreens, and running into an adult orphan waiting to be adopted off the street.

9. Womanhood with Aparna Nancherla and Jo Firestone-Nancherla and Firestone compliment each other so well in being goofy on this show that goes through absurd explanations of  “womanhood” that it should be the next web series that gets made into a full fledged TV show. 

10. Fleabag-Phoebe Waller Bridge has the UK's fantastic, epic answer to You're The Worst.

11. Giulia Rozzi's True Love-Rozzi’s hour achieves what a good rom com achieves by skewering love and all of its faults as much as it celebrates it.

12. Mike Leffingwell's 12 Angry Men: The One Man Show-The concept of a single man doing a solo show adaptation of the classic courtroom drama 12 Angry Men is funny enough, but Mike Leffingwell then pulled off performing it perfectly.

13. Josh Sharp doing an hour while dipping in and out of singing D'Angelo's Untitled (How Does It Feel?) with a live band-Sharp's stories are wonderfully crafted and told, and then, accentuated by his lovely voice singing D'Angelo’s most well known song like there's no tomorrow.

14. Not Safe with Nikki Glaser's Remote Segments-Glaser fed porn stars lines for scenes, visited a foot fetish convention, and highlighted sex in such a fun way that wasn’t attempted by any other TV show.

15. Last Week Tonight with John Oliver's Make Donald Drumpf Again-Oliver and company's take down of Trump was one of the best researched, strategized, written, executed pieces on Trump during this whole election cycle.

16. Disengaged-Jen Tullock and Hannah Utt's web series following a lesbian couple rushing into marriage was one of the best pieces of romantic comedy we saw in 2016

17. [F*ck This] Late Night Show with David Brown-In a way, David Brown sees Eric Andre’s rebellion against the traditional late night format and raises it some more chaos. He has a separate creative team ruining his talk show as it happens via flashmobs, waterboarding, etc.

18. Baron Vaughn’s Blaxisential Crisis-Baron Vaughn’s latest album oscillates perfectly between deep and crucial issues of race, class, purpose and flights of imaginative fancy putting Vaughn almost in a class by himself.

19. Crabapples with Bobcat Goldthwait and Caitlin Gill-the odd couple pairing of Goldthwait and Gill is unlike anything comedy has seen before. Because it lives in truth (they really are roommates), it’s one of the best hosting duos in comedy today.

20. Megan Gailey-Gailey, with her stand-up, is simultaneously an undeniable delight and a force to be reckoned with, which only doubles up how delightful she is to watch.

21. Liartown USA-When it comes to parodying covers for books, magazines, Netflix menus, etc., Sean Tejaratchi might just do it better than anyone as you can see above.

22. This Bill Burr joke: “How many Toyota Camrys do you have to see before you realize most people’s dreams don’t come true?”-We usually refrain from transcribing jokes out of context and in print, but we haven’t stopped laughing at this searingly honest joke from Burr since we first saw him work on it several months ago and felt it imperative that it be on this list.

23. Sing Street-The 80s, Ireland, young love, and diegetic musicals get married perfectly in this film by John Carney that spent far too little time in theaters.

24. Derek Sheen's Tiny Idiot-This album made it clear that Sheen could be an heir apparent to Patton Oswalt, bu very clearly has his own, unique comedic take on the world today.

25. Stephen Colbert's Close to His Election 2016 Live Special-For once, the world got to see the real Stephen Colbert who is so intelligent, well spoken, caring, and one of the only people that could pull of dealing with immediate aftermath of an impending Trump win on TV.

26. Will Hines' A Soundly Defeated Man-Hines, in a series of sketch vignettes, takes the comedic self-deprecation to a new level of artistry by showing how defeated one man really can be.

27. The Lobster-Yorgos Lanthimos might have made the best dystopian rom com in recent memory and, possibly, for several years to come.

28. Jena Friedman's American C*nt-Friedman is unrelenting in her dismantling of the patriarchy amongst other several other controversial issues. She handily deals with them in this special, placing her in a very important position in comedy going forward in 2017. 

29. Jamie Loftus-Loftus is that amazing rare breed of comedian that blends dark, absurdist humor with genuine vulnerability and she can do so in her stand-up or through own self-styled animation (ex. doing her own animations for old tapes of how to tell children about someone dying). 

30. Chris Duffy's You Get a Spoon-Duffy’s NYC based, curated variety show is filled with so much positivity from celebrating the favorite things of his favorite performers that you almost can’t leave the show without a smile on your face (or winning a prize).

31. Bear Supply-The quick, music fueled scenes of Mike Castle, Shaun Boylan, Joey Greer, Jordan Bull, Morgan Christensen and James Heaney is impeccable improvisational comedy. 

32. The Cooties-Musical comedy is alive and well with the satirical power pop songs of The Cooties.

33. Aparna Nancherla’s Just Putting It Out There-Aparna’s album is proof positive that her wondrous version of self-deprecation can be ultimately uplifting. 

34. Hunt for the Wilderpeople-Taika Waititi continues his film streak with a charming-as-can-be film about a troubled youth surviving in the wilds of New Zealand.

35. Don't Think Twice-Mike Birbiglia gets really close to hitting too close to home for some people in comedy, but that draws out one of the best depictions of life in comedy (or attempting to do so) that has ever been put into a movie.

36. The Opening of The Pack Theater-The DIY, punk rock, spirit that runs in the veins of much of LA comedy got a new, wonderful outlet at The Pack Theater.

37. Jetzo-Chad Damiani and Juzo Yoshida mash-up improv, clowning, kimonos, dramatic live musical accompaniment, and breaking the fourth wall to make the marvelous whirlwind known as Jetzo.

38. DJ Real (Nick Stargu)-SF comedian Nick Stargu’s alias DJ Real mixes an uncanny command of musicianship with an über-clever style of comedy that dazzled and had us doubling over laughing at the same time.

39. Daniel Webb-Hailing from Austin, TX, stand-up comedian Daniel Webb is a splendid rush of charisma that probably has a better Obama story than almost anyone you know. 

40. Laurie Kilmartin's 45 Jokes About My Dead Dad-Kilmartin’s special, born out of jokes she tweeted while her dad was passing away, is so darkly funny and has an unmistakable humanity, which has us rethinking that maxim of comedy equals tragedy plus time. 

41. Kristin Rand-LA got a brief glimpse of the unstoppable charm of Rand when she moved here from Denver and was all the better for it.

42. James Fritz's Still Together-The way Fritz exquisitely channels rage and bleakness into this debut album is magnificent.

43. Roast Battle-What started as two open mic’ers fighting in a parking lot has now earned its way to a March Madness style tournament shown on Comedy Central and we’re betting that Roast Battle still has much more potential ahead of them.

44. Josh Fadem-Fadem made a return to performing more regularly in 2016 and his magnetic positivity and pure, unabashed goofiness (complete with impromptu costumes) definitely got us through the whole of last year.

45. Sam Jay-Jay moved to LA from Boston and took her insightful, brash, unfiltered comedy (that happens to come through the lens of being a newly married lesbian) and has become a the LA scene favorite almost instantly.

46. Dave Waite's Dead Waite-Dave Waite's latest hour takes being a goofball to new heights of brilliance.

47. Of Oz The Wizard by Matt Bucy-Absurdity doesn't get more pure than Bucy's re-editing the classic film version of The Wizard of Oz and alphabetizing the entire thing, start to finish.

48. This Friday Forty-Most other quiz shows can’t compare to Scott Gimple and Dave Holmes' This Friday Forty that not only has topical trivia, but fantastic sketch characters to introduce said trivia.

49. Jay Larson's Human Math-Few comedians so deftly explore the minutia of human nature like Larson does on this album.

50. Josh Gondelman's Physical Whisper-Gondelman's craftsmanship in observational humor is exceptional on this album and accentuated nicely by his sunny stage persona.

51. Kyle Mizono right after the election-There was a lot of raw nerves exposed in comedians right after Trump's win and few did it so purely and well as Mizono. For a whole set, she screamed her jokes with legitimate fury, but without being off-putting (well, if you’re not a Trump supporter that is). 

52. Lady Dynamite-Maria Bamford’s truth and Mitch Hurwitz’s wildly imaginative way of making episodic television combine for a comedy series that is blazing its own trail at a time where that gets harder and harder to do in a show about the life of a comedian.

53. Hail, Caesar!-The Coen Brothers’ latest comedy set in Hollywood’s Golden Age is one of their sharpest and most beautiful works that has plenty of scenes that could be amazing short films on their own.

54. Moses Storm's Sweater-Moses Storm never ceases to amaze us as he, this time, wore a sweater that had several strings attached to it for audience members to grab so they could literally be connected to him while he's telling a story.

55. Full Frontal with Samantha Bee-Samantha Bee has cemented a legacy in her short time on the air with her take-no-prisoners-and-then-some style of satirical news coverage.

56. Gene Wilder and Fidel Castro's New Year's Rockin' Eve (in Limbo)-UCB’s Beth Appel and Rose Marziale put a hell of a show to end 2016 with as they used the whole of the UCB Sunset complex to have an immersive comedy show (a la Sleep No More) that included karaoke with dead celebrities, a fake newsroom, and the woods where Hillary Clinton is living. 

57. Morris From America-Chad Hartigan’s refreshing coming-of-age story following an American black kid trying to grow up in Germany with his single father hit a very sweet, feel-good note that everyone needs to see (especially since it had a short theatrical run). 

58. Britanick’s “The Foul Line”-Though BriTANick had gone a few years without a new video, this absurdist folly makes up for all that time lost.

59. 20th Century Women-Mike Mills' latest is a great follow up to Beginners and is an award worthy comedy that might actually be able to compete with heavily favored dramas this year.

60. Three Busy Debras-The comedy trio of Three Busy Debras got to play Carnegie Hall through this devilishly fun crowdfunding campaign. 

61. Paul F. Tompkins' on Political Correctness-One of comedy's best gave one of the best explanations of political correctness' necessary role in comedy.

62. The Dollop-Shining a light on the dark corners in American history is as important as it has ever been and Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds do so with a devilish laugh and their effortless riffing up comedy gold.

63. Floor Knobs-This AOK sketch from Heather Anne Campbell is one of our absolute favorites and, rather than spoiling anything, we'll just leave it at that.

64. David Gborie’s Late Night Stand Up Debut-Gborie takes an unexpected move in his opening to this performances that sets up a truly wonderful late night stand-up debut.

65. Cholofit-Frankie Quinones' cholo exercise guru is done so well that it leaves you wanting it to be a real exercise program.

66. Oh, Hello-John Mulaney and Nick Kroll took two characters from just being a small bit to the heights of Broadway. George St. Geegland and Gil Faizon are just so fully realized and funny that it doesn’t matter if you miss one of their references or not. 

67. Chris Garcia's Laughing and Crying at the Same Time-Garcia meshes deeply personal stories and utter silliness that do the album title justice.

68. Cole Escola-Escola’s solo show follows him playing several outrageous characters (switching wigs and costumes while on stage) allowing for another fun layer in between the cavalcade of delightful, short monologues.

69. Catastrophe season 2-Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney have kept their devastatingly funny look into an unplanned family up to the very high standard they set in season 1.

70. Triumph the Insult Comic Dog's Election Watch 2016-Robert Smigel might have not known that having a dog puppet on his hand roasting people to their face for years would be the perfect preparation for covering the 2016 election (on both sides of the aisle), but, as the handful of Hulu specials prove, it really was.

71. Joel Kim Booster’s set on Conan-Just telling the story of being adopted by a Midwestern white family from Korea and being gay is fascinating enough, but Joel Kim Booster made that story blisteringly funny on late night.

72. Angie Tribeca-Physical comedy and sight gags would almost seem out-of-turn in comedy these days, but the proudly silly Angie Tribeca on TBS is thankfully changing all of that.

73. Trump vs. Bernie-While ‘Trump vs. Bernie’ will probably be a presidential candidate match-up that more people will long for than ever, Anthony Atamanuik and James Adomian's Trump vs. Bernie will go down as one of the best bits (that includes the live tour, the Fusion series, and album) of comedy to come out of one of the worst elections in U.S. history.

74. Joe Pera’s Set on Seth Meyers-Pera’s weirdness is one-of-a-kind in comedy as it’s very warm and inviting. He got to share that with the world with his set on Late Night with Seth Meyers.

75. Vice Prinicpals-When Danny McBride and Walton Goggins’ diabolical teachers one-up, in the best way, any other teachers in any other comedies that go off-the-deep-end in this HBO series.

76. Brad Neely's Harg Nallin' Sclopio Peepio-Neely's latest creations seems to offer up bits from the weirdest corners of Neely's mind and this animated sketch show is all the better for it.

77. Hari Kondabolu's Mainstream American Comic-Much is deservingly said about Kondabolu’s expertise in talking politics, class, race, etc. in his comedy, but this album also shows that his comedy is stellar no matter where you fall on the political spectrum.

78. Jon Glaser Loves Gear-Glaser does meta comedy better than almost anybody else working right now and his new show on TruTV is proof of that.

79. How to Win at Feminism by Reductress-This whip-smart manifesto about feminism solidifies Reductress’ place in modern satire next to The Onion and Clickhole.

80. Great Minds with Dan Harmon-Harmon getting to spend time with some of history's most notable figures ended up being one of the best shows that the History Channel has done in years.

81. Derrick Brown-Very few poets can reach the point of being laugh out loud funny and still deeply emotive quite like Brown, both on stage and in his book, Uh-Oh.

82. Natalie Palamides' solo show Laid-Palamides makes a solo show that's so absurd and funny, it might almost be in a unique category of its own.

83. W. Kamau Bell’s Semi-Prominent Negro-Bell explores all of today’s hot button issues (racial inequality, transgender identity, gentrification, etc.) comedically, as he is very skilled at doing, but does it in such a jovial way that they don’t seem so controversial anymore. 

84. Other People-Chris Kelly’s hilarious and heartbreaking movie based on his own life in dealing with the passing of his mother from cancer is one of Kelly’s finest work, which is even more impressive as his first feature done while being an SNL writer. 

85. Emo Philips improvising with Jason Van Glass-Emo's comedic prowess is so great that he can improvise with Van Glass like they're a veteran improv duo.

86. Return of MST3K-Of the things from our childhoods that are being brought back, Mystery Science Theater 3000 returning with a sweeping mandate in the form of a record breaking Kickstarter campaign is one that deserves to be revived.

87. Wyatt Cenac’s An Angry Night in November-Cenac’s EP captures lightning in a bottle (it’s his set from his weekly Night Train show) of immediate post-election comedy that is pure, raw, and biting.

88. Justin Sayre’s Gay Agenda-Sayre makes a compilation of his “meetings” as ‘Chairman of the International Order of Sodomites’ that give a hysterical look into the many great, complex layers of LGBTQ life.

89. Ahamed Weinberg-Both as a stand-up and a filmmaker (watch Rasberries), Weinberg is on a path to being another great modern comedy multi-hyphenate. 

90. Jon Dore Gets a Bad Backstory-Dore once again shows how to toe the line when entering the darkest territories of comedic material and do so successfully while being utterly absurd. 

91. Ron Babcock videos-A dying reel and an ad for his old CRV really showcase the cleverness and ingenuity of comedy’s Ron Babcock.

92. Reggie Watts’ Spatial-Watts’ latest special is his best and most ambitious one yet as it includes his beatboxing, a faux sitcom, tap dancing, and way more.

93. Alex & Jude-Alex Hanpeter and Jude Tedmori have figured out how to give slapstick, physical comedy the proper twist for 2016 audiences, which includes a literal bit of audience participation of making Jude a target.

94. Conner O’Malley-O’Malley takes satirical field pieces to a whole new level as he plays and wholeheartedly commits to dark, fully realized characters inspired by vaping, Alex Jones, and Cubs fans. He interacts with real people at Trump rallies, vape conventions and outside of Wrigley Field and goes along with whatever happens.

95. Doug Stanhope’s No Place Like Home-Stanhope has an amazing take on mental illness in this special and opted to shoot it in his own hometown of Bisbee, AZ. Overall, No Place Like Home ranks high up in Stanhope’s extensive catalog of stand-up.

96. “Tond” by Kelly Hudson-Hudson’s short film is one of our favorite bits of existential absurdity of 2016, a year seemingly saturated in nothing but questioning ‘what it all means’. 

97. Brett Gelman's Dinner in America-Gelman's last special on Adult Swim is one to remember, especially for how searing the satirical commentary on race relations are in it.

98. Miguel Marquez-Marquez bridges a gap, almost literally, between art and comedy as his wry art installations are way funnier (intentionally that is) than nearly anything you’d see in an art museum.

99. Chris Fleming's Silver Lining-The week following the election seemed as hopeless can be if you voted for Hillary and Fleming offered up a powerful, albeit one with a bit of tomfoolery, message of hope.

100. Norm MacDonald on Conan-Not only is there the expected long, winding roads of Norm’s jokes and stories in this particular appearance, but Conan does an impression of Norm out of frustration that’s spot on.