#but thankfully none of the songs had actual written drum parts so i could just kinda freestyle and no one cared as long as i was in time

[aztrosist666]

i played the drums in front of my entire fucking school for mass ans couldnt hear anything i was playing 🔥🔥🔥🔥💪💪💪

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 1 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream? 

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox) 

Warnings: mentions of death, the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one. 

Chapter One

~|Emily Fox| ~

As a seventeen-year-old, you should not be left to your devices. Unless you have no other choice. When you have a dream your parents have called unrealistic without ever listening to what you were actually capable of, you have no other choice but to move out and fend for yourself. Thankfully, I can stay with Uncle Mitch for a while until I’m off to college.  Since leaving my parents’ house at fourteen, my life has consisted of high school, working at the music store, write songs – if I have the time –, help Uncle Mitch around the house, sleep, repeat. It’s been a chore. But I just about manage. 

“Please, don’t touch the guitars without a supervisor, ma’am!” I say loudly from across the shop as I catch her hands rising up to pick up one of the acoustic guitars hanging on the wall for display. I rush over to her, dodging clients testing out guitars and pianos I’ve helped before. While the forty-something woman stares at me with an intense glare, I pick up the Gibson guitar for her and hand it over, offering her my fakest smile. “This one’s a nice one!” I tell her as she handles the guitar very clumsily, nearly dropping it. “What do you know about guitars?” she snarls at me. “Well, for starters, I work here, so I’m supposed to have some knowledge about guitars. Secondly, this is a bass guitar. Never just call a bass a guitar.” The woman rolls her eyes and when she casts her gaze on the strings, I roll mine. I’ve had my share of forty-something old women coming in here to buy something for their spoiled little sons, pretending they know more about guitars of any kind, pianos and drums while I have been brought up listening to Uncle Robert talking non-stop about all of his instruments. He taught me how to play each and every one of the instruments and brought me into the world of rock. If he were still here, I wouldn’t be working in a music store, trying to pay for my own apartment or my college tuition. He believed in me from the second he heard me sing and play piano. He still believes in me, I can feel it. Staying with Uncle Mitch – Uncle Robert’s husband, now widower, has been a lot more healing than it would’ve been if I still lived at my parents’. “I know that,” she grumbles, then looks back up at me. “If you know so much about everything, you little know-it-all, why don’t you tell me something more about this one?” I refrain myself from rolling my eyes again, and instead ball up my fists to put all of my anger there. “This is the Les Paul Junior Tribute DC bass. It’s actually a tribute to the historic Gibson EB-0 bass from the late 50's, but with modern features. The short scale length is actually chosen by many for its strong fundamental tone and sits perfectly in a track when recording. The mahogany double cutaway body and maple neck with rosewood fingerboard balances perfectly when playing either sitting or strapped on. It's equipped with a single expanded range LP BassBucker pickup with single volume and tone controls for simplicity. The volume pot has a push-pull feature to coil tap the pickup scooping the mids for further tone shaping possibilities.” I’ve explained this many a times, so it almost sounds as if I’ve learned it by heart. “Oh! And it comes in four different finishes; Worn Ebony, Worn Cherry, Blue Stain and Worn Brown.” The woman looks at me, clearly impressed at my knowledge of the bass in her hands. I’m pretty sure I could’ve told her anything and she would’ve believed me. “I want to speak to the manager,” she then says and pushes the bass guitar back in my hands as if handling a cardboard box. If my reflexes weren’t what they are now, we would’ve had a broken bass and I would be the one that had to pay for it. “What for?” I ask, my anger slipping through into a vicious snarl. “Just because you learn everything by heart, doesn’t mean you’re a good salesperson.” I open my mouth to say something, but I know I can’t win against a Karen. So, instead, I plaster on my best fake smile and say “Of course, give me a second.” I turn on my heel and make my way back to the cash register to get Ash, my manager who’s been nothing but an absolute gem to me. She wasn’t looking for any employees, but still hired me when she saw how desperate I was and how good I was with the instruments. She even lets me write songs after hours. “Karen alert?” Ash asks when she sees my annoyed face, at the brim of exploding. “Yep, at the bass guitars,” I tell her and take her spot to handle a paying costumer. Ash hops over the counter and makes her way to the Karen at the bass guitars. Only for her to leave the store in an angered rush without any bass guitar for her precious son. “That’s 44 dollars and 97 cents, please,” I tell the guy who’d come in for guitar strings, picks and some polish. He looks about my age. Dark hair gelled back, green almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks. He hands me the cash with a cute, nervous smile. “Thank you! And here’s the three cents change,” I hold out my hand for him to take the three cents, but he shakes his head. “Keep it,” he winks at me before grabbing his purchases and leaving the store. Leaving me all flustered and blushing. I hate when cute boys come to the shop and have the audacity to do this stuff to me. UGH. “Got rid of our Karen,” Ash tells me, “You can get back out there. I think the little girl over there at the piano could use some of your expertise.” She points to a fourteen-year-old gliding her fingers along the big wing of the white piano in the middle of our store. “Hi,” I say as I approach her, making her jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Emily. Can I help you?” She scans my face for a moment, as if assessing whether or not I’m trustworthy. I guess she decides she does when she opens her mouth and four simple words flow out of it. “Do you play piano?” I’m a bit taken aback by the question. None of the costumers have ever asked me that question. “Yes, I do, actually,” I reply honestly. “I want to learn how to play the piano, but my mother doesn’t allow me. Says it’s too expensive. The piano, that is. And lessons are expensive too, she says.” She stops talking for a moment as if thinking about what to say next. “Will you teach me?” “Oh,” I manage to bring out, “I—we don’t really offer any piano lessons in the store. We just sell them.” Her eyes water and she visibly swallows a lump in her throat. “Okay…” she whimpers, making my heart break just that bit more. “Will you play me a song though? I love hearing people play.” I take a deep breath as I think about how to turn this girl down. But then I remember my parents turning me and my dreams down. “Sure, I can play you a song. Any requests?” I ask as I sit down on the stool in front of us, patting beside me to invite her too. “Surprise me,” she says, shaking her head with a big smile on her face. I carefully touch the keys as I think of a song to sing. Once I’ve figured that out, I begin to play the right melody and then chime in with the lyrics I’d written with Uncle Robert when he was still alive. The song I cherish the most and wouldn’t share with anyone. But this girl reminds me too much of myself, and I think she might take something from the message. “Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test, yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up, no, you grow.” The girl looks up at me with big Bambi eyes, urging me to continue. “And you use your pain Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it I know it's not the same You got living to do And I just want you to do it So get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” As I begin the chorus, I hear drums backing me up from somewhere inside the store, and when I look around, I find Ash behind a drum set with a smile on her face as she helps me out a little. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” By now, Ash and I have gained an audience. Most of the costumers in line don’t even mind having to wait to pay until we’re done with this outburst of ours. “Better wake those demons, just look them in the eye No reason not to try Life can be a mess, I won't let it cloud my mind I'll let my fingers fly” The girl next to me still has the same expression on her face. Eyes pooled with admiration and inspiration. Exactly the reason why I make music and why it’s been a dream of mine to make a career out of it. “And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me And I'm ready to power through it Gonna find the strength, find the melody 'Cause you showed me how to do it Get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” I go for the chorus again, and then pop in with the bridge. The one I added to uncle’s song. The costumers in the store stare at Ash and me with smiles on their faces whilst swaying along to the song. “So wake that spirit, spirit I wanna hear it, hear it No need to fear it, you're not alone You're gonna find your way home” I close my eyes as I hit that high note, then stop playing for a second whilst starting the chorus for the last time. Even Ash backs me up with some backing vocals after having heard the chorus a couple of times already. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do” The both of us pick up the melody again, putting more power behind the rest of the song. “Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you When you're feeling lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” I hit the last couple of notes on the piano before a roar of applause and cheers fills up the entire store. The fourteen-year-old beside me is clapping the loudest of them all. Her eyes still wide and admiring and full of life. “What’s your name?” I ask the girl, causing her to stop clapping. “Kayla,” she replies. “Listen to me, Kayla. Even if your parents don’t agree with your big dreams, please, never give up on your dream! If this is really what you want to do, go for it. You’ll find a way, I promise you.” A tear rolls down her pink cheek as her bottom lip trembles slightly. “Don’t give up, okay?” She nods her head vigorously. “Thank you, Emily!” she wraps her arms around me into a tight hug before hopping off the stool and rushing out the store. As I watch her run out, my eyes land on a guy. Somewhat my age, I think. I can’t really function for a second as his hazel eyes stare at me and with his mouth curled up on one side. When I finally manage to move again, my eyes scan him entirely. His brown hair sticks out from underneath an orange beanie, his nose fine and cheekbones defined. He’s wearing a flannel shirt over a grey muscle tank and ripped black jeans. I give him an awkward smile before heading back to the cash register. “Can you do register for a moment? I need to check something in stock,” Ash asks me, and I simply nod before helping the next costumer. After the fifth costumer, the boy who’d been staring at me before shows up in front of me. “How can I help?” I ask with my best customer service-smile. “By giving your number,” he replies coyly. I was going to give him the cute boy card until those words came out of his mouth. “Sorry, my number ain’t for sale,” I reply and look behind him, “Next!” “Oh, no, sorry! Uhm, I don’t mean it like that, I—” Before he can mutter another word, I interrupt him. “Are you going to purchase something, bro?” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking like a goldfish. “Uhm… No… I just—” I interrupt him again. “Next customer, please,” I stare at him intensely, hoping that’d chase him away. He knocks on the counter before moving away, clearly defeated by the rejection. I can’t believe douchebags like him still exists in this generation. People need to learn manners. “Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the next customer, bringing back my best smile. Just got to move on, just as I moved on from dealing with a Karen again today. Best way to do that, is focus on all the other customers. For the rest of my shift, I have not been able to shake the cute-but-rude guy from before. There’s something about him that haunts me still and I can’t seem to figure out what it is. Not even when I’m focusing on cleaning up the store. As I’m dusting the piano, I hear the bell above the door ring. “Sorry, we’re closed!” I yell without looking up from the piano. “Are you going to play again?” The voice sends shivers down my spine as it takes me right back to that one douchey line it uttered just a mere hour before. “Again, we are closed, sorry.” This time it comes out more like a snarl and with a bit of poison. The boy in front of me chuckles and holds his hands up in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry about before, but—” he steps closer to me, but I hold up my finger to make him stop, and it seems to help as he simply freezes in place. “But the store is closed. Goodbye now.” I go back to dusting off the piano and wait for the bell to ring again, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sound of guitar strums reaches my ears. “You can’t touch any of the guitars without supervision,” I tell him sternly, but when I meet his eyes and they’re looking at me intently as if urging me to do something. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?” he asks cockily, still stroking the strings, creating a beautiful melody that fills up my head. “What do you want?” I ask bitterly, looking at him again, and hoping it would make him leave faster. “For you to sing.” “Sing what?” He shrugs, leaving me to wonder what he means by that. “I have a lot of work to do, dude. Please, leave,” I sound pathetic, nearly begging him to leave. I’m only a step away from begging on my knees. The sound of the guitar abruptly stops when I go back to cleaning the piano. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that what you did earlier today was amazing. You know, not a lot of people have the power you have. Did you see what you did to all those people in here? Imagine doing that for thousands of people! Have you ever thought of that?” I turn to look at him, suddenly having the urge to tell him everything. Then I remember what a douchebag he really is. “I don’t have time for this. Please. Leave!” I shout at him before heading towards the cash register to start counting the money. It’s silent for a while until the bell over the door breaks it. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. This boy did something to me without me even realizing it. Nope. Can’t trust boys. They don’t do anything but break hearts and be douchebags. But this one somehow seemed different. No other boy has ever left such an impression as he did. And I didn’t even have a proper conversation with him. I just hope I don’t have to see him. Like ever again.  

[mulletpeters]

toothache of the mind

ship: peterpatter

rating: g

word count: 1938

tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, high school, 1990s, best friends, feelings realization, pining

Reggie gets braces for his sweet sixteen.

He doesn’t tell anyone―not even his best friends in the whole wide world. So when he walks into homeroom the Tuesday after his birthday, Luke nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of the metal wrapped around Reggie’s adorable little snaggletooth. Alex may or may not be hyperventilating, but Luke wouldn’t know. He’s distracted.

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

-

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

-

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

-

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

For now, he needs to focus on perfecting the songs they already have. They’ve got a show at the Orpheum next summer to prepare for.

[himbowelsh]

gene / renée,   “things we said when we were happiest”

2400+ words

“snowflakes in the honey-drenched breeze”

After the war — after Bastogne — Eugene would be happy to never see another snowfall. 

Thankfully, in Bayou Chene, a dozen things are more likely to fall out of the sky, starting with rain and ending with a hail of frogs. No snow down here to force a chill into your bones, even in the chilliest months. Nothing freezes down here — so he tells Renée, handing her a glass of lemonade with an apologetic wince. The sorry excuses for ice cubes clink in the glass, dancing in the pink liquid. If Renée minds, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, the corners of her lips tug back in a muted smile, and she pulls the drink close to her chest.

“It is beautiful,” she declares, for the fifth time since getting here. “Such a beautiful place.”

Bastogne must be beautiful too, at the right time of year. In her letters, Renée described the forests in full bloom, a canopy of green and gold stretching high into the air. She and her sisters used to have picnics there, eating cakes from the local bakery and picking wildflowers to bring home to their mother. The way she wrote, Gene could almost see it; his memories of the forest are nothing like the fairytale playground Renée once knew, but it’s nice to imagine it a different way. In another time, another world, he thinks, things could have been different.

In another world, Renée wouldn’t have been driven to run as soon as the weather turned cold, fleeing across an entire ocean just to escape Belgium’s chill. Gene wouldn’t have received warning just two days before she arrived, and been left to scramble to make things hospitable. They wouldn’t both greet each other at the train station for the first time in a year, awkward in spite of the letters they’ve been exchanging through the war and its end.

Then again, in another life, Gene might’ve never met Renée at all. He certainly wouldn’t be sitting here with her now, watching the Louisiana air turn her cheeks pink, or summon droplets of sweat to her brow.

Her hair is curled in a style he recognizes, but has never seen on her; she has it done up in pins instead of a scarf now. Even weeks of travel couldn’t ruffle her. This was the same woman who held steady as the town around her was being shelled to hell and back; of course she wouldn’t be daunted by a long journey. Renée shines brighter now than he ever remembers before, even when she was a glowing light in the pitch darkness of Bastogne. Her eyes are more animated than they used to be. Her smile isn’t so tired at the edges. She doesn’t wear grief like a familiar shawl, separating her from the rest of the world. 

Actually, she’s wearing lipstick.

In a lot of ways, Gene is sitting across from a stranger. He’s never seen this woman before, not without blood under her fingernails and exhaustion shadowing her face. Even so, it feels like he’s known Renée forever.

“Your home is beautiful,” Renée declares, breaking the comfortable silence between them. When she glances over her shoulder, her curls bounce. “When you described it to me, I didn’t imagine somewhere so...”

“Small?” Gene tries. 

The corners or her mouth twitch. “Cozy.”

It’s a small house on the edge of the bayou, not too far from his family home... but far enough to give Gene the space he needs. Moving back in with the family was good for a few weeks... then it slowly became unbearable. He couldn’t handle his mother’s pity, his siblings well-meaning questions, his father’s understanding — that was the worst part, because Papa survived his own war. Of course he knows. But he doesn’t at the same time, because he didn’t live Normandy or Bastogne... and no one who wasn’t there can ever truly understand.

As the curtain between lived and unlived, memories and reality, grew more transparent with each passing day, Gene was seized with his own urge to run. He found an old house half-collapsing into the bayou, and bought it cheap with the promise of fixing it up. He’s always been good with his hands, after all... and having a project to focus on helped the open wounds scar over, much as putting distance between himself and anyone who wanted to poke at them did.

Gene’s house is comfortable and private, but definitely ain’t charming. If she wanted, Renée could easily find a better hotel in town. When Gene suggested it, she turned her nose up at the idea.

“Why would I do that when I’ve come here to see you? To stay with you?” she demanded. In the middle of the Lafayette train station, they drew looks from curious passersby— either at Renée’s shocked voice or her pristine European French. When she realized that he wasn’t joking, the surprise faded from her face, replaced by fond exasperation. “You mustn’t be silly, Eugene. After all you’ve written about your house, would you really not let me see it?”

As Gene’s Maman would say, he made his own bed. Now, he’s got to lie on the floor, because Renée’s the guest, and she gets the only bed in the house.

None of that seems to matter now, though, with the bayou’s nightlife slowly stirring awake around them. To Gene, the symphony is familiar as an old friend; he could time his pulse with the bugs’ chirping, and the soft sounds of water rippling a ways away barely register as background noise. To Renée, though, it’s all new. He watches her drink it all in, blue eyes wide; one hand braces on the wooden porch rail as she leans forward in her seat, nearly spilling her drink. She peers into the darkening forests around them, as though trying to make out the source of each noise and rustle. Gene knows better — for his own piece of mind — but Renée doesn’t think like a native. To her, Gene’s world is foreign, maybe a little frightening… but nothing about the brightness in her eyes, or the soft huff of laughter on her lips, suggests she’s daunted.

“It must be so difficult to feel alone here,” she declares after a long silence. “The world is alive here. As though… it knows you, and wants to keep you company.”

The Bois Jacques’ deathly silence still rings in Gene’s ears. He’ll take the bayou’s racket any day.

“Knows you too,” he says, deciding to humor her. “Or wants to know you, at least. Think the crickets are putting on a special show tonight, just cause you’re here.”

Renée laughs, soft and bright. Her eyes flutter shut, head dipping. In the dimming light, she still manages to glow like a firefly. Gene couldn't look away if he tried.

“It’s so beautiful,” she declares again, slumping back in her seat. While not a man to turn down a compliment to his home any day, this is the sixth time Renée’s said it. The Bayou’s beautiful in its own way, sure... but Gene can’t help wondering if she’s really talking about it.

“Can I ask you—” he starts, cutting off when she turns to look at him. The words die in his throat. She’s happier than he’s ever seen her. To take that smile from her lips, that brightness from her eyes, might kill him.

Renée notices his hesitation, of course. “Anything,” she says softly, coral lips caressing the word. Gene swallows past a dry throat.

“Can I ask... why you came all this way?” Before she can answer, he rushes on. “There’s a thousand warmer places closer to home. Why here?” 

To his relief, Renée’s light doesn’t dim. She keeps her gaze trained on him, weighing the question for a long moment. Her fingers graze the hem of her skirt, making the fabric ripple. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, Gene fights the irrational urge to take her hand.

“You’re here,” she finally says, and turns back to the bayou.

As though it’s really that simple. Gene can’t think past it. For a moment, it’s hard to even breathe. Why me? he wants to ask. Why, out of everyone else on earth, everyone else who can’t help loving you? Why’d you come across the ocean just to visit me?

Sitting still is more than he can bear. Gene springs to his feet, turning to the open doorway. A heavy mosquito net blocks the inside from the out, but the screen will let sound through. That’s his only thought as he slips inside, fumbling for the cheap radio on his hall table. Fill the silence somehow, some way. 

A melody fills the hall — something with plenty of strings, and a woman crooning in a velvety mezzo tone. Some love song or other. Gene’s never paid much attention to them before, not enough to name this one offhand, but something about the longing in this woman’s voice gives him pause before he can flick the dial to something different. 

When he turns back around, Renée is watching him. She’s swiveled, arm braced against the back of Gene’s deck chair; a smile plays on her lips. “Music, too?”

“You didn’t want the hotel,” Gene replies. “Might as well give you the whole hotel experience.”

“Will you have waiters serving champagne next? Or a chandelier put up in your living room?”

“I think the hotels in Lafayette are a lot different than where you come from.”

She’s on the verge of laughing as she rises from her seat. Renée pauses in the doorway, watching him with those kind, clever eyes. Against the twilight, she cuts a dark silhouette, fading at the edges like something out of a dream. When she steps forward, Gene doesn’t know what to expect.

“Dance with me,” she says, reaching for his hand.

The words reverberate in Gene’s head. They bounce off the sides like a bullet in a steel drum, from French to English and back again, as though a different language will make them make more sense. Danse avec moi. Can he? Should he?

The choice isn’t left up to him. Renée’s hand catches his, fingers lacing together… and some instinct Gene didn’t even know he had stirs to life. His hand finds her waist, gently pulling her closer; their feet fall into rhythm, not daring tread upon each other, as they begin to gently sway to the rhythm. 

No one in their right mind would call Eugene Roe a dancer. It’s not his first time dancing with a woman… but never alone, never in the middle of his own foyer.

He knows where all the creaky floorboards are, knows the part of the carpet that’s always rumpled and easy to trip over. These dangers, he guides Renée smoothly past. It’s more than he could do for her in Bastogne. There, they could only press light bandages of sympathy over each others’ wounds, stemming the blood flow for a short time. Here — in Gene’s home, with the air sweet on their tongues and warm against their skin — he can do so much more. He can look after her, keep her safe from that chill… and as Gene’s head lowers, enough for his temple to brush against Renée’s own, it’s all he wants to do.

“Eugene…” She murmurs his name like a prayer. He exhales against her neck, ruffling the golden hairs settled there. Renée shudders in his arms, as though she’s caught an old chill, and Eugene unconsciously pulls her closer.

“I am so happy,” she whispers. “Being here with you… it is like remembering how to breathe again. Since the war’s end…”

Her hand has found a place on the back of his neck, fingers playing with his collar. Every so often, they tease the side of Gene’s jaw, and his nerves spark and shiver. “It’s like trying to relearn something that used to come easy,” he affirms, for he understands — he’s felt it too. “Like there’s a weight on your chest, and it’ll crush you if you let it…”

“But it’s gone now,” she sighs. “For the first time, it’s gone. I can breathe.”

Gene inhales, and all he tastes is her. Renée’s perfume, Renée’s presence — like lavender in the summer, sweet and soothing. When she lowers her head against his shoulder, he feels each breath exhaled against him. They continue to sway in the middle of Gene’s foyer; their shadows, backlit against the fading twilight, look like a single being, instead of two people joined together. I could stay like this forever, Agnew realizes, an odd thrill coursing through his veins. It’s the first time he’s felt like this since the war, and maybe before it too — the first time he’s ever understood what peace means, and how precious it is to have and hold. He never wants to let it go.

He never wants to let her go. To lose her now… after everything… dieu au-dessus, he couldn’t stand it.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against her ear. Renée shifts against him, pulling back just enough to regard him quizzically. The word is her own, but Gene certainly isn't echoing it now in regards to his own home.

“What is?” 

A smile tugs at Gene’s lips. Renée catches it, and understanding dawns across her face... followed by a grin that lights up the room, warming Gene up from the inside out.

“You have a beautiful soul, Eugene Roe.”

“You—“ He cuts himself off, a blush taking over his cheeks — not helped by the way Renée’s grin grows. Never before has he wanted to say so many things, or had so few words to say them. Every emotion trapped within his chest flutters like a mercurial thing, flickering between one state of existence and another. If he could put voice to at least one of them, all the rest would surely come… like a flood, rushing out with no hope of stopping the flow. The idea terrifies him.

Instead, Gene only exhales and shakes his head, his own grin tugging at his lips. “I’m happy you’re here,” he says. “Happier than I’ve been… for as long as I can remember.”

When Renée leans in, it’s easier than dancing, easier than breathing. Her soft sigh rings in his ears, even as their lips find each other. Gene’s heart picks up a new rhythm in his chest.

Some churning emotion turns to stone inside of him. Finally, it’s tangible. He can feel it. He knows it, as well as he knows the back of his own hand, or the taste of Renée’s mouth.

Beautiful, he thinks. Yeah, sure is.

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1964

Under the cut.

Bobby Vinton – “There! I’ve Said It Again” -- January 4, 1964

*sob* This song is so bad. Is there even a beat at all? It's so slow. It should not be so slow. Vinton sounds both self-satisfied and whiny. It's a love song, I suppose, but this doesn't sound anything like love to me. It sounds like it was created by the Moral Majority. Help, I need someone.

The Beatles – “I Want To Hold Your Hand” -- February 1, 1964

Yeah, I did that on purpose. It's fashionable to hate on The Beatles these days, but I will not be joining in. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" is not one of their best songs, but if I'd been there at the time, I'd have been screaming my head off for them too. After going through the past couple years of hits, I feel ready to scream for them now. There's a beat. There's forward motion. There's understanding how to sing a song. That wasn't totally lacking on the charts until them -- Ray Charles, after all, and some others -- but what a wasteland it's been generally. The bad stuff has been so very, very bad. Anyway. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" -- okay song today, but pure oxygen in 1964.

The Beatles – “She Loves You” -- March 21, 1964

This is one of my favorite songs. "Hey idiot, this great girl you thought you lost due to your idiocy still loves you." Implied: Either you go on her knees to get her back or I go after her. And it doesn't sound anything like any #1 I've covered so far. Major interesting bassline, great harmonies, good drums, guitar, everything lines up perfectly.

The Beatles – “Can’t Buy Me Love” -- April 4, 1964

What else is there to say at this point? It's good. It's true. It's romantic. It's fast. McCartney knows how to sing. Notice that none of these three hits in a row are heartbreak songs? There have been way too many of those on this list, and most of them were bad. These songs are happy, and not fake happy. They're driven. They're alive.

Louis Armstrong – “Hello, Dolly!” -- May 9, 1964

The person to finally kick The Beatles down the charts was one of our greatest homegrown artists. It's like people had finally woken up after Bobby Vinton's horrible song in January. Not Louis Armstrong's best, but it's Louis Armstrong. So it's thoroughly enjoyable.

Mary Wells – “My Guy” -- May 16, 1964

Motown is well and truly here. I adore this song. It's sweet without being cloying, the beat is fun, and of course Mary Wells is amazing. And as a woman whose taste in men has never matched up with what I'm supposed to find attractive, and has taken a lot of crap for that, I connect with the song personally.

The Beatles – “Love Me Do” -- May 30, 1964

I think this is the worst of the Beatles' hits so far. Which doesn't make it bad. The harmonica's great. But the lyrics are kinda, well, dumb. Thankfully they're dumb and cheery, not dumb and doleful like so much I've covered.

The Dixie Cups – “Chapel Of Love” -- June 6, 1964

Earworm alert. That hook is a killer. The song gets at the overwhelmed, slightly stunned happiness that comes from getting married. We went to city hall, not to the chapel, but the feeling's the same. I can't say whether I like the song exactly -- the hook is so overpowering, it doesn't really give you a chance. It's in your head now, forever.

Peter & Gordon – “A World Without Love” -- June 27, 1964

The narrator doesn't have a girlfriend so he's going to hide in his room until his true love shows up. Or maybe he was dumped by his true love and therefore is going to hide? It's not very clear, which is unusual for a song written by Paul McCartney. But there's a reason he gave it to someone else. It's actually a fine song, good harmonies, good beat, very teenage sensibility without being annoying. Not too special after the last six songs though.

The Beach Boys – “I Get Around” -- July 4, 1964

I can never hear this without picturing the 1986 film Flight of the Navigator. As usual with Beach Boys songs, the music is excellent and the lyrics are deeply dumb and repetitive. So it's a fun song, but not one I go out of my way to listen to.

The Four Seasons – “Rag Doll” -- July 18, 1964

Gah Frankie Valli's falsetto again. Also it's overproduced. This guy loves a poor girl but his father says nope, she's a poor so you can't marry her, and he just accepts it. I really don't like anything about The Four Seasons.

The Beatles – “A Hard Day’s Night” -- August 1, 1964

My mom and I once rented the movie A Hard Day's Night, and were surprised at how fun it was. (She was a little young to experience the full force of Beatlemania when it hit.) The song written for the movie: Also very fun, and good, and sexy. "But when I get home to you I'll find the things that you do will make me feel all right." Things sure changed fast in 1964.

Dean Martin – “Everybody Loves Somebody” -- August 15, 1964

Dean Martin was constitutionally incapable of being serious. Sometimes his smarm worked. Not here. It could be worse, but it could be a lot better. I'd have been much happier if it had been just about anyone else's version, though Peggy Lee's is my favorite.

The Supremes – “Where Did Our Love Go” -- August 22, 1964

Have you noticed how good pop music suddenly got? It's not just The Beatles. This is a heartbreak song without a hint of schmaltz. It makes you feel better, not worse, and you can even dance to it. But it's still sad. Motown was amazing in its heyday.

The Animals – “The House Of The Rising Sun” -- September 5, 1964

I've loved this song since I was a kid. And I understood it; "gambling causes ruin" is perfectly comprehensible to an 8-year old. It's dark and real, and Eric Burdon's voice and singing give me chills. The keyboard is like nothing I've heard on this list before. I think this might be goth. It's something great, anyway.

Roy Orbison – “Oh, Pretty Woman” -- September 26, 1964

I hate the movie Pretty Woman. A lot. This song became a hit again when the movie came out. Obviously I associate this song with that movie. So I don't have an opinion about the song that's separate from a movie I hate and that Roy Orbison had nothing to do with. I'm passing on this one.

Manfred Mann – “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” -- October 17, 1964

Two number ones in a row about a pretty woman walking down the street. They sort of sound similar in parts too. Anyway, pretty woman walking down the street singing nonsense, narrator ends up making out with and then getting engaged to her. It's silly, and it's okay. "Okay" has a much higher bar than it did just last year.

The Supremes – “Baby Love” -- October 31, 1964

I have a problem with The Supremes, and it's that their first four #1 hits have exactly the same subject matter, and that subject matter is being in love with a man who no longer loves them. After this list, I'm sick of heartbreak songs, and they were never my favorite anyway. Four love songs in a row and I'd have been happy. Dance songs, ditto. But if we must have heartbreak songs, can we have a little righteous anger too? Not just plaintiveness? Anyway, "Baby Love" is a Supremes song, which means if you hear it far apart from their other songs, it's great. When I hear them together like this, though, the formula gets painful.

The Shangri-Las – “Leader Of The Pack” -- November 28, 1964

I hope this song was meant to be funny, because I find it goddamn hilarious. How'd she meet a bad boy whom she knew was sad at the candy store? I like the message that you shouldn't dump your boyfriend solely because your daddy tells you to. But I don't think there's any intended message here. I think it might be a song making fun of the 50s motorcycle bad boy aesthetic and all those "girlfriend/boyfriend died" schmaltzfests people suffered through.

Lorne Greene – “Ringo” -- December 5, 1964

A baritone spoken word piece about a Western outlaw. I doubt it would have gone anywhere if Ringo Starr hadn't been named Ringo. It's probably good for its genre, since Lorne Greene was a good actor, but I can't tell.

The Supremes – “Come See About Me” -- December 19, 1964

It doesn't sound like a heartbreak song, but of course it is. And a super severe one; she gave up all her friends for him, and then he left her too. But she still wants him back. Eesh. Of course Diana Ross doesn't sound sad singing it, because she never sounds really sad singing these songs. The technique obviously worked, but the more I think about it, the more I don't like it. It's a really good song. And not for me, now that I've actually thought this much about it.

The Beatles – “I Feel Fine” -- December 26, 1964

A sitar has been spotted! Anyway, he and his baby are in love, and he brags about buying her diamond rings. The Beatles never had any shame about buying the women in their songs stuff to make them happy. I like that. And I like this song.

BEST OF 1964: "My Guy". Yep, not a Beatles song. This is thoroughly subjective, after all. But what a lot of great songs there were this year, and how relieved I am to be able to say that. WORST OF 1964: "There! I've Said It Again", overwhelmingly.

[hearts-hunger]

“D’you need a pencil, love?”

Part Six || Masterlist

Summary: At Roger’s invitation, you sit in on Smile’s recording session for their album. Tim picks a fight and you discover that nobody says anything less than kind about you and gets away with it as far as Roger’s concerned.

Pairings: College!Roger x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: My sweets, part six is finally here! I can’t thank you enough for how patient you’ve been with me, I love you all so much. I really hope you like this part. While researching the Smile Era I discovered that Roger dedicated “April Lady” to his girlfriend at the time, and of course I had to include it in this story. I hope you enjoy it, darlings, and thank you again for sticking with me! ♡

“Past Victoria and Albert Museum, take Piccadilly line from South Kensington to Circus station, down Shaftesbury, left on Dean street. It’ll be on your left.”

You mumbled the directions your flatmate had given you aloud, scanning over the sheet of paper she’d written them on before looking up to survey the street before you. You’d made it down Shaftesbury and you were pretty sure you had just made the turn on to Dean street, but it couldn’t hurt to double check.

Satisfied you were heading the right direction, you put the paper back in your purse and started down the street, keeping an eye out for De Lane Lea studios. You’d never been this far from campus by yourself - the only other time you’d been significantly far away from campus had been with Roger - but it was a beautiful day for exploring the city. The bright sun kept the chill of the September breeze at bay, and people milled about the shops while children played outdoors in the little yards in front of the brownstone city houses.

You had debated wearing your new navy Mary Jane shoes that you’d gotten from Freddie, worried that the slight heel would make walking around London a pain, but you’d found they were surprisingly comfortable in addition to pairing nicely with your new outfit. It was a combination of things you’d tried on yesterday - a blue eyelet sweater with a flouncy white skirt - and you hoped Roger would like it.

You were starting to wonder whether you’d missed the studio when you saw “De Lane Lea Ltd.” in big gold letters just a block down, and you checked your watch as you made your way towards the studio. You knew Roger had been worried yesterday about you getting lost, and you’d promised him that if he felt you were taking too long to arrive, he could rally the cavalry and come after you. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to, and you were glad to get there earlier than you expected and soothe his worried nerves.

Pushing the door open, you noticed right off that there was nobody behind the front desk. You looked around for someone to ask where you should go, not wanting to roam around and end up somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. When nobody showed after a few minutes, though, you decided to try and find the studio they were in.

Down the hall off the main room, the distinctive sound of Brian’s guitar was spilling from the third door on the left. You made your way over, stopping in the doorway as you saw a young man you didn’t recognize in the control room, leaning over a huge panel of switches and levels. Past the glass, however, you were relieved to see Brian’s tall, unmistakable form, Tim standing behind a microphone next to him and Roger tucked behind his kit in the corner of the studio.

“No, I don’t like the sound on that,” Brian was saying, his voice vaguely metallic through the control room speakers. He played a few notes and shook his head. “It’s a bit shrill, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking I could go heavier on the intro,” Roger said. “We’d have a strong lead-in and then Tim could take it and soften it up a bit.”

“Maybe I don’t even need to be on the intro,” Brian said. “Let’s try that - you and Tim do the lead in, we’ll see how that sounds. Can we roll it again, Mack?”

The young man in the control room nodded. “Sure thing. Let me change the tape.” He turned and started a bit when he saw you in the doorway.

“You’re not meant to be back here, miss,” he told you.

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, feeling like a kid caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “Nobody was at the desk. I’m supposed to be - ”

“She’s with me, Mack,” came Roger’s voice; you looked over to the studio door to see Roger coming through, his smile easing your slight panic. “She’s ok.”

Mack smirked. “Ah, so this is your April Lady?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks even as you gave Roger a confused look, not really understanding what Mack meant. Roger just laughed, and though you had an initial flash of hurt thinking he was laughing at you, the sweetness of the sound quickly showed he wasn’t.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Roger said. It sounded like a compliment but you still didn’t know what it meant. “Let her stay in here, won’t you, Mack?”

“Sure,” Mack said, going back to his work, changing the spool in the recorder. “Sit anywhere you like.”

Roger steered you closer to the couch at the back of the control room, behind Mack’s chair and in full view of the window into the studio. You gave Tim and Brian a small wave and they smiled in return before going back to their conversation.

You drew your attention back to Roger, smiling up at him. “Hiya.”

He chuckled. “Hiya, sweetheart. Sorry I couldn’t come get you. How was your walk?”

“Lovely, actually,” you told him. “I’ve never been to this side of London.”

“We should go exploring one day,” he said. “I’ll take you to all my haunts in the city and we’ll go to all the places you want to see.”

“Even all the touristy places?” you teased.

He smiled. “Yeah, wherever you like.”

“Come on, Rog,” came Tim’s voice through the speakers. “Mack’s got the tape in.”

“Duty calls,” Roger told you apologetically. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”

“Hey,” you said quietly, taking his hand in yours before he turned away. He studied your face, worry across his own.

“What is it, love?”

“What did you mean with the whole ‘April Lady’ thing?”

You were surprised to see a blush accompany his smile. “Oh, um, that’s the song we’re working on right now,” he said. “I told Brian and Tim I wanted it to be dedicated to you on the liner notes.”

You felt a wash of affection for him. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you’re ok with that.”

You smiled. “Of course I’m ok with that, Roger. Nobody’s ever done something that sweet for me.”

He tipped your chin up and kissed you gently. “Get used to it, love. I’d make being sweet to you my living if I could, but I’ll have to settle for dedicating songs to you. Technically the song’s a goodbye to the April Lady, but hopefully I won’t be saying goodbye to you anytime soon.”

You gave him a kiss. “Sorry, Charlie, I think you’re stuck with me.”

You could feel his smile against your lips. “I’m ok with that.”

“Speaking of my song, you’d better go play it,” you teased, wishing he could stay and hold your hand just like he was. “Otherwise Brian and Tim will decide to never let me in the studio again.”

He hummed in agreement. “They’ll have me to answer to about that.” He kissed you again. “We won’t be terribly long. We’ve just got to get the final take of ‘April Lady’.”

“I don’t mind,” you said. “I like to listen to you play.”

He gave you a sweet smile as he untwined his fingers from yours and headed back in the studio, Brian giving him some good-natured groaning about keeping them waiting. You curled up against the arm of the couch, tucking your feet under your skirt as you watched Roger go back to his drums from the other side of the glass. It wasn’t the Smile kit; it was the studio’s, and you wondered if he wished he could play on his own kit like Tim and Brian could play their own guitars.

“Alright, let’s roll it,” Tim said.

Mack pressed some buttons and flipped some switches, the whole process completely foreign to you.

“Take four of ‘April Lady’,” he said.

You heard Roger count in before accompanying Tim on a heavy march-like intro, quickly softening out as Tim started to sing. He had a nice voice, but you couldn’t help but wish Roger could sing lead. The song was about a lady who won people’s hearts by painting pictures for them, and it was terribly endearing to know that Roger had heard the lyrics and thought of you. You absently played with Roger’s necklace that you hadn’t taken off since he’d given it to you.

Roger sang backup for the chorus, harmonizing with Brian and Tim as they sang “goodbye April Lady”; Roger sang “it’s been good to have you around” by himself, giving you a wink. You blushed and smiled back at him, memorizing the way his face was bright with affection as he sang to you.

They went through several more takes of “April Lady,” mostly due to Brian’s perfectionism. Roger didn't’ seem to mind, content to play as many times as Brian wanted. Tim though, seemed fed up with Brian’s constant tweaking.

“Christ, Brian, just play, would you?” Tim snapped after the latest suggestion from the guitarist. “Not every little thing has to be changed. We’ve been working on this song for ages.”

Brian looked a little surprised, hurt flickering across his expression.

“Shove off, Tim,” Roger said angrily, coming to his friend’s defense. “You’ve got somewhere more important to be?”

“Not all of us want to spend the rest of our lives getting the final take of one song, Roger,” Tim shot back. “You and Brian might not have anything better to do, but it’s stupid to get so concerned about a throwaway song.”

“It’s not a throwaway song,” Brian protested, though his voice was quiet. “Nothing on the album is. We’ve worked really hard for this.”

“Some of us, anyway,” Roger grumbled.

Tim gave a noise of disgust. “Don’t pretend you’re not tired of Brian finding fault in everything.”

Brian looked stricken. “I’m not finding fault in everything,” he said. “You and Roger have been wonderful.” He seemed to think that he’d hurt Tim rather than annoying him, that he’d inadvertently made Tim feel inadequate. You could tell that wasn’t the case - Tim wasn’t wounded by Brian’s suggestions; he was just flat-out annoyed with them.

“Most of what I want to change is on my end, really,” Brian said. You’d found that to be true - through the session, Brian was most ruthless in his critique when it came to his own playing. Compared to the criticism he made on what he played, his suggestions to Roger and Tim were very gentle and offered humbly for their consideration.

“And we’ll play with you until you figure it out,” Roger assured him, though he gave Tim a pointed look.

“Oh, lovely,” Tim said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “We’ll be here till we die, then.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t fight him on everything he says it wouldn’t take so long,” Roger said.

Tim rolled his eyes. “God, I forgot you were practically married to everything that comes out of Brian’s mouth. Think for yourself for once, would you?”

You could see the flush of anger over Roger’s cheeks as his eyes flashed. “You want me to think for myself, hm? Well, here’s what I think: you think you’re better than Brian and you can’t stand it when he’s right. You’d rather fight him on every little thing rather than just listening and realizing every change he’s made - especially to your playing - has made the song better. Brian’s a better musician than the both of us and you know it, but you’re so vain you can’t stand the thought that someone might have ideas that are better than yours.”

“Aright, Roger, that’s enough,” Brian said. A rosy blush colored his face and you could tell he was a bit embarrassed at how highly Roger had praised him.

“Better keep a leash on your guard dog,” Tim said, spite coloring his voice.

“Oh, why don’t you shut up?” Roger said derisively. “You don’t have to be a total idiot all the time, you know.”

“We both know you’re just putting on a good show for your audience,” Tim said, throwing you a contemptuous glance. “If she wasn’t here you’d have been complaining way before me.”

You flushed with embarrassment, distressed to know that you were a cause of contention between Tim and Roger. You wondered how Brian felt about you being there. You’d been feeling like you were intruding on something private since the arguing started, but now that Tim had confirmed it you wanted to bolt from the room. Perhaps you shouldn’t have come at all.

“Don’t drag her into this,” Roger growled.

“Why not?” Tim shot back. “You brought her here, she might as well see what it’s really like. You can pretend all you like, but I know you’re just as fed up with all this - ” he made a broad gesture encompassing the studio, “as I am.”

“Oh, all this,” Roger mocked. “What, the session? The album? This band? Get a grip, Tim. I’d still agree with Brian over you even if Y/N wasn’t here because he’s right and you’re not.”

“I could say exactly what Brian said and you’d change your tune, though, wouldn’t you?”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tim. I don’t live and die to fight with you.”

Tim scowled. “No, you’re too busy keeping your girl happy and kissing up to Brian to care about anything else, especially not getting a recording down for this stupid album. I’m here to record, you know, even though I’d rather be doing practically anything else.”

Roger’s expression was one of confused exasperation. “So am I, you knob. Sorry you thought being in a band would be all play and no work, but if it takes a whole session to get the song, then it takes a whole session, whether or not Brian’s the one making the changes. And in case you don’t remember all those times you’ve skipped rehearsal to be with one of your dozens of girlfriends, there’s nothing you can say about Y/N being here. I’ve been in here playing the whole time.”

“Much good it’s done,” Tim muttered.

“That’s enough,” Brian said firmly, a flare of anger in his voice. “Neither you nor anybody else can say anything against Roger’s playing. If you were half as interested in this session as he is, we’d have finished this song sooner, but you’ve been distracted all day.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“Boring you, are we?” Roger asked.

“Oh, well done,” Tim sneered. “Yeah, this is boring. We could have been done with this instead of changing every last thing, and I wouldn’t have had to listen to you two yammering on.”

“Alright,” Brian said firmly. “That’s quite enough out of you. Us being at each other’s throats isn’t doing anyone any good and we’re just burning studio time. Let’s just forget all this and do one more take and that’ll be the one for the album. Does that suit everybody?”

“Suits me just fine,” Roger said. He raised a brow at Tim in challenge. “What about you?”

Tim glared at Roger. “Fine,” he bit out.

Brian gave Mack a tired look through the glass. “Could you roll the track, please?”

You met Roger’s eyes as Mack got it set, searching his face for clues as to how he was feeling.

Sorry, he mouthed.

You shook your head. It’s ok. He didn’t need to apologize.

He gave you a weak smile before turning his attention to the song. Though his smile had eased your worry a bit, you still couldn’t shake the thought that Tim was right. You shouldn’t have been there.

They got through the song perfectly and piled into the control room to listen to the final take, Tim keeping his distance. Roger gave Brian’s shoulder a reassuring nudge as the sound of the playback filled the room.

“Well?” Tim asked waspishly when it was over. “Got anything to add?”

Brian hesitated; Roger looked up at him, worry in his features. You knew Roger wouldn’t mind if Brian had found something else to change or something new he wanted to try, but Tim was liable to fly off the handle.

“No,” Brian said finally, though you could hear the lie in the thinness of his voice. “It’s perfect.”

“Finally,” Tim muttered. He went back into the studio to pack up his bass guitar and was making his way out of the control room before either of his bandmates could protest. “I’ll see you at the show tonight.”

Roger made to go after him, frustration flashing across his face, but Brian put a hand to his chest and brought him to a halt.

“Let him leave,” Brian said.

“You’re just going to let him get away with acting like that?” Roger protested.

Brian shrugged. “There’s not much I can do, Rog, you know that. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good to make him stay.”

“I should wring his neck for what he said about you,” Roger said, almost to himself.

Brian blushed again. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t think we’d do very well without a bass player tonight.”

“We’d do fine without him,” Roger growled.

A smile quirked Brian’s mouth. “Just us against the world, eh?”

Roger softened, an amused glint dancing in his blue eyes. “Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

Brian chuckled. “Not too bad, no.”

“What was it you wanted to change?”

Brian looked bashful. “Nothing really, I just don’t think my solo’s as good as it could be. But it’s done now.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think your solo was perfect,” Roger said sincerely. “Really, mate, it’s gold.”

Brian smiled. “Thanks.”

You felt a bit shy at the intimacy between the two, not because you were embarrassed by it but because you felt again like you were intruding.

“I should go,” you said quickly, standing and shouldering your purse. Both Brian and Roger looked towards you, almost as if your words had reminded them you were there. You felt your cheeks redden and wished you’d slipped out earlier.

“You’re leaving?” Roger asked, surprised and almost hurt.

You tucked your hair behind your ear. “I, um...” You shook your head. “I just shouldn’t have come.”

He came over to you, studying your face. “What is it?” he asked. “I’m sorry we got into it, it’s not usually like that.”

“No, don’t apologize,” you said. “It’s ok.”

“If you’re worried about what Tim said, don’t be,” Roger said gently.

You felt a wash of guilt. “He’s right, though. I shouldn’t have been here. I only caused trouble.”

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “It’s not your fault, love. Tim was in the mood for a fight and he figured saying something about you would start one, and he was right.”

“You shouldn’t fight on my account, Roger.”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Nobody goes after my girl and gets away with it, love. I asked you to be here, and you didn’t do anything wrong. Tim’s brought girls to the studio before. He only said that because he was embarrassed to make such a scene in front of you, but it’s his own fault.”

You glanced over at Brian, who was fiddling with the levels as he played the track again.

“And Bri’s ok with you being here too,” Roger said, as if reading your thoughts. “You’re perfectly fine. He doesn’t mind.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Brian?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t mind if Y/N’s here, do you?”

“Not a bit,” Brian said, glancing back at you and giving you a smile. “You’re welcome to come to whatever you like, Y/N, and rest assured we don’t usually have a row like that.”

You hesitated, wondering if you’d just come across as silly for saying what you wanted to, but his patient gaze encouraged you.

“I don’t know much about music so this probably doesn’t mean much, but I thought all your changes were really good,” you told him bashfully. “I thought they made the song better.”

Brian practically beamed at you. “Thank you,” he said. “It actually means a lot to me.”

“You’re pleased with your song, then?” Roger asked you with a grin.

You smiled. “I love it,” you said, basking in his pleased smile. You still couldn’t completely shake the feeling of guilt for being part of the trouble, though. You tucked your hair behind your ear again even though it hadn’t come loose.

“You do that when you’re nervous, don’t you?” Roger asked.

You blushed. “Do what?”

He gave you a gentle smile and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. “Put your hair behind you ear. You don’t have to be nervous with me, love. What is it?”

You shrugged. “I’m... I’m just sorry I caused trouble,” you said. “Maybe if I hadn’t been here, Tim wouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“I appreciate that you care enough to apologize, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, “but you don’t have to. Tim would have gotten his knickers in a twist no matter what. You’re ok, love.”

“You promise?”

He gave you a gentle kiss. “I promise.”

You decided to take him at his word, as you had both said you were going to try and do with each other. There was no reason for Roger to lie. And if he and Brian didn’t mind you being there, it was probably more of a problem on Tim’s end than on yours.

“Sorry that wasn’t nearly as fun as I advertised,” he said with a slight grimace.

You smiled. “It’s ok. I liked listening to you play. You have a lovely voice, you know.”

His cheeks pinked. “Oh, I dunno about that. But thank you.”

You kissed his cheek, endeared to him. “You’ll have to sing it for me sometime, just you.”

“Really?” he asked. “I mean, of course I will, if it’ll make you happy. But I’d have thought you’d be sick of it by now.”

You laughed. “No way,” you assured him. “It’s my song, and I love it, and nothing would make me happier than hearing you sing it.”

He chuckled and kissed you again, softly singing “she won our hearts, the art she loved was painting pictures for free” as he gave you light kisses all over your face. You giggled and beamed under his affection.

“You want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked, twining his fingers with yours. “We don’t have to be at the Foxtail until seven.”

“I’d love that,” you said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere you like,” he said. “I’ll be happy wherever we go as long as I get to be with you.”

“Are you always this romantic?” you teased, soaking up every bit of it.

He smiled. “Only with you, love. Only with you.”

Read Part Seven!

taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod @somekindofroger @dashlilymark @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg @crushthewiredlove @marvel-lously @rogertayolr @strawberryfields-forever 

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

16 - Is This A Good Idea

This chapters songs:

These Days - The Wallows

Stay away (it's like that) - TV Girl

Verbatim - Mother Mother

- Y. L. Perspective

It was Monday once again, and I was sitting down at the freakishly clean lunch table, where I nervously waited for my friends' long-awaited responses. "So? Do you guys wanna...say something?"

Everybody sat with their eyes wide, surprised at my explanation of how the other night came to be.

"You're telling me...that...you and Sugawara..were a thing this whole time?!" Giki slams her palms onto the table, catching the attention of a few people around us. "AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL US...?!"

Toruku puts his finger over her mouth, still keeping his eyes on me. I wasn't very confident that my friends would understand that Koushi and I had loved each other for quite a while. But I had to tell them sooner or later. And before anything is official between us, I'd like to tell them. They're my family, after all.

"Are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?" Hikishi curls his brows, fishing out some rice on his chopsticks, and shoving it into his mouth. "Damn, I knew something was going on between you guys!"

Giki slaps Toruku's finger away, rolling her eyes. She twirls her short black hair in her fingers, still curious about my relationship with a boy they had only met a few times. "I thought that you said you were just friends? Not that I'm against it.. but.. how come you didn't tell us?"

Toruku chimes in, "Is this why you talk about him so much? Or why you've been so distant recently?" His words make me think back to the many times I had listened to their conversations more than discuss with them anything that happened with me.

"I guess I was just scared you guys would think I'm getting myself into trouble or something. I mean, none of you have got your eye on anyone, right?" I look at the three as they all shake their heads. "Look, we're not a couple or anything. We're just... overthinking things."

I loudly, laying my head down on the table. Truth was, I'd been wondering whether or not being in a relationship with Koushi was a smart idea. All I needed was a chance to go through my options and stop to think. Thankfully, Hikishi taps my head, pulling my attention towards him, Giki, and Toruku.

"Hey, we're still your friends, you know. It doesn't matter who you like, we're always here to talk and give you advice. Besides, we all like Sugawara! He's nice and treats you good," Hikishi says, turning to his friends for reassurance. "Right guys?"

They nod, leaning close towards each other to make a small oddly shaped circle. "Yeah, of course. Now, spill, Y/n! What has been happening ever since the party?"

"Uh, yes. On a walk home, we had both agreed to wait a little bit to figure out our feelings, but it was more so that I could realize mine. It wasn't so bad, though. I had time for myself and to spend some time with the volleyball team. They're loud and crazy, but they're fun. I can't believe they're all so respectful considering they're teenage boys. Anyway, we kept talking casually as two people who liked each other would!" I take a sip of my juice box, taking a deep breath from explaining so much. Still, my friends were all ears, leaning back to hear the frightening love story of Koushi and me. "After Oikawa had seen me at the party, he tried texting me a few days later, saying he wanted to talk. I brushed it off casually as any other person who's been in drama with him would and told him I was busy. But on the day of the practice game, I saw him there! He and Oikawa. Supposedly, they're the two best players on the Aoba Johsai Volleyball team."

"Oh..does that mean you have beef with them not only because of that party and because of volleyball?" Giki asks. By "you guys", she meant Toruku and me.

I nod, slapping my forehead. "Yup. And that's not even the worst part! We have to play in a spring tournament with them, which means seeing them more than what I'm comfortable with. On the day of the game, I bumped into Hajime in the hall. He didn't cause any trouble! He was nice and apologized and everything, surprisingly. I explained how I was there as a manager, not some creepy stalker, and even got to talk a bit about how life's been treating us. As for Oikawa, he didn't say much. He saw that I was at their game as a manager, but never confronted me about it. I'm sure Hajime had enlightened him on how I was a part of the volleyball team. Still, he could have told me something if he claims he wanted to talk so badly! Koushi noticed how I was acting strange when he entered the room and confronted me about it when we got to my house."

Toruku raises a brow, asking, "your house? So he spends the night now?"

"N-no! Well, he's never actually stayed an entire night. He usually just comes over towards night and leaves around two or three in the morning. I think his dad might be strict about him staying out late, so that's probably why he has to sneak back home. Anyway, after I had told him what happened, he understood, and eventually, we began talking about ourselves. God, it felt so good to tell him how I felt. And I know now that I didn't just like Koushi, I was in love with him. He just makes me feel safe and knows me so well. If we weren't separated by an entire school year, I'm sure I would have realized it sooner, but I do love him. A lot, actually. And if I'm being brutally honest, I don't care we only have a year to be together." For a second, I forgot that my friends had opinions of their own and began to blabber on about how much I liked Suga. They all looked as if they were just given a box or issues to solve. "So...do you guys think I should?”

None of them mutter a word and instead trade worried expressions, then look back at me. "Look,

Y/n. I don't think any of us have ever experienced this entire 'love' thing except for you and Toruku, so I don't think that our opinions would help very much. But..we can all agree that you've cheered up ever since you started hanging out with Sugawara. Hell, even your chords have been getting better. We've never seen you so happy before. So if you really love him, then we respect your decision to be with him." Hikishi smiles brightly at me, as Toruku and Giki nod along with his words.

I sigh, very relieved that I had such wonderful friends. They were here for me before I even got to find myself and my talents. How could I doubt that they wouldn't be supportive? It's them, after all. "That amazing, thank you, guys." I smile back, looking down at the poke bowl I'd brought in my bento today. "Now that that's over, we should probably make plans for our schedule. It's been quite some time since we've talked about it."

"Ah, yes!" Giki exclaims, shoving her hands into her school bag and fishing out a large piece of paper. "So, I just got this flyer for a band competition coming up. It's in about a month, so that gives us some time to come up with some ideas for songs and practice."

Each of us passes around the flyer, observing its letters. Although it was written in lazy lettering and small pictures, we knew it wasn't something to brush off. Booking gigs and getting our name out to the public was what we needed. Ever since we had published a small album of some scraps from a few songs we'd written, we've only gotten people from our families, school, and some friends we knew in the industry. And before we would sign with my aunt, she wanted for us to gain a few more supporters and fans to help us get the word out further.

Giki nods, happily drumming her fingers on the table. "Yup! I already signed us up. Since the festival has gotten much more popular, I'm sure there will be a lot of people there!"

"Great, that gives us something to look forward to. Now, for what to choose as the song..." I lean onto my elbow, stared down by my band members. They all raise their brows at me. "...what?"

"Word on the street is that Summer's Amp Fest is looking for more than just what people can cover. They're looking for authenticity. We think it would be best to come up with something of our own, " Toruku explains. Still, I'm confused as to why they look to me for help.

"So..?"

"So... do you wanna come up with some lyrics?" In surprise of Giki's question, I began choking on my salmon. 'Write a song? I hope they only mean words and not notes as well. I've never been asked such a thing from my band.' I think to myself, choking in distress while Hikishi handed me a cup of water.

I down the entire thing, steering the coughing to a halt. And not long after do I ask, "you mean, like, write an entire song?! Look, I'm flattered and all, but I'm not very good!"

"Come on! You're the one who knows their way with words, Y/n! You've written a few others in the past, why not do it now?" Toruku pleads.

"Because it's so stressful! And only in a month? Can we even be prepared by then?!" I yell out. "Besides, what would I even write about? It's not like my life is any more interesting or sad than you guys!"

"Tch, you're in love for Christ's sake! That's what most artists write about! Take a look at TV girl— all they sing are songs about being addicted to cigarettes, sex, and heartbreak. You can do it, Y/n!" Hikishi claps his hands together. "As long as it's impactful and sounds good, then I think we'll be fine."

"Yeah! If you'd like, you can even talk to Suga about it! Maybe he can help too," Giki suggests.

I frown, scared that when the time comes, I'll disappoint my friends. All I've ever written are a few words and such. Almost all our songs are instrumentals with one or two verses. "I don't know, you guys. What if I make something super cringe and bad?"

"Y/n, you've got everything you need to write a full song. All we're asking for is authenticity and emotion. Not much! Look, me and Hikishi will take care of the chords and notes. Giki can get everything prepared for us, and you can write the lyrics! A good song will get us in the spotlight," Toruku explains.

Although I had doubts about my talents, I had hope that I could grow a pair and put in some effort into a song.

"Okay then. It can't be too hard, right?"

-

"Koushi, this is so hard! There's nothing I have in mind!" I whine to him as we walk to the clubrooms. School had just ended and volleyball practice was next on our agenda. Today, the so-called so "guardian" was to come back from some kind of secondary school he attended.

The boy pats my back as I throw my head back. "Don't stress it, Y/n. They said it was around a month away, right? That gives you a lot of time to come up with something. And if you'd like, I can even help you. Though, I'm not sure I'm very good with words," he chuckles, running his hand through his hair.

"Really now? Your little letter says otherwise," I say, turning Koushi's cheeks crimson. As much as I wanted to go further into the playful argument, locker rooms were just up ahead. We departed before continuing.

Before I enter the girls club room, the sound of two girls talking came from inside. 'Whatever. Other sports teams have things to do too, right?' I straightened my skirt, hoping that my being there wouldn't be an issue.

I carefully open the door, peeking my head inside of it. I could only recognize Kiyoko changing into her sweat pants, but not the other girl. Once reassuring that it wasn't a crowd of people, I fully entered, closing the door behind me. "Uh—hello," I utter, awkwardly smiling while walking towards my locker.

The stranger turns quickly, revealing her figure. 'Who is this chick?!' I ask myself. She had straight dirty blonde hair, smooth milky skin the covered her body, and deep green eyes. I was surprised such a beautiful and classy girl was here in a gym locker room.

She looks me up and down, attempting to return the smile. "Oh—hi! You must be the new manager. My name is Eclair, it's nice to meet you!"

-

Vote pls and ty ok bye ily

- estrxlar

[sinceileftyoublog]

Split Single Interview: The Grift Is On

Photo by Nathan Keay

BY JORDAN MAINZER

After five years, Jason Narducy’s got a lot to say. Amplificado (Inside Outside Records), the new third album from Split Single, his solo project with a rotating cast of musicians, was mostly written and recorded by June of 2019. Its themes of Trump-era urgent anger were only heightened by a global pandemic that exacerbated many of the issues that rose to the surface in an era of political turmoil. 

Since his second Split Single album, Metal Frames, came out, Narducy’s been nonstop touring and recording with Superchunk and Bob Mould, not to mention writing a musical, Verböten, named after and about his childhood punk rock band. Any free time’s been spent on canvassing for Democratic state legislature candidates, Narducy feeling like he needed to stay politically involved and motivated. There’s no more perfect soundtrack to his exhausted mind than Amplificado’s opener, titled and stylized “caPtAIN calamity’S crUde pRoCessiON”. The off-kilter, minute-long instrumental is less purposeful avant-garde experimentalism than 6th grade marching band practice with weird ringtones going off, as percussionist Dan Leu’s tempos change nonsensically and Narducy introduces tack piano and sound effects of cash registers. The song’s got a lot of hidden meaning, as Narducy would explain to me in a phone interview in early May, but from the surface, it’s most significant as a way to let the listener know that the rest of the record--for the most part quintessential Split Single power rock--was born from this place of confused chaos. 

Indeed, besides the opener and the honest, stark “Adrift”, Amplificado is big and burning. “Blood Break Ground” is a song about breaking out from oppression. “Condescension comes with a price / Tear away all lingering ties,” Narducy belts, with drummer Jon Wurster providing propulsive blasts and the other main bandmate here, none other than R.E.M.’s Mike Mills, on bass and backing vocals. “Stone Heart World” calls out GOP hypocrisy, self-described “pro-life” politicians who speak about “barefoot children holding on to desperate mothers” as “others” and “animals.” Lead single “(Nothing You Can Do) To End This Love” is just as pressing, but positive, a message of support for the LGBTQ+ community.

As much as Amplificado deals with serious issues, from the pandemic-addled depression and isolation-themed “Worry” to songs like “Blood Break Ground”--the guy behind “The Sexiest Elbows in Rock Music” hasn’t lost his sense of humor or storytelling. Narducy writes about a formative childhood experience with a music teacher on “Bitten by the Sound”, a character in dire straits on “Belly of Lead”, and a ditty about aging inspired by being yelled at by his dentist on “Mangled Tusk”. And maybe the funniest thing about the album is its bio, written by comedian Jon Glaser. (“It has always been a dream of mine to write a bio for the third album of a somewhat known indie band,” Glaser writes, as he then goes on to describe his lunch, nightmares, and video game playing that preceded him writing the actual few-sentence bio for the record.) If you’ve ever seen Narducy play, whether on one of his many lawn shows he did last summer through SPACE in Evanston or opening for Guided By Voices, you know he, too, is both earnest and genuinely hilarious.

Read my interview with Narducy about Amplificado below, edited for length and clarity. He’s got a sold out record release show tomorrow night at 7 PM at Sketchbook Brewing Co. in Skokie!

Since I Left You: When you were writing the lyrics to these songs, did they come instantly or were they workshopped? They feel very emotional and direct.

Jason Narducy: Sometimes they took a while. The song “Mangled Tusk”, the demo was called “Jangle Tusk” because the guitar part felt like jangle pop to me. It was just a working title. The drum beat on the demo, which we didn’t end up using on the record, was kind of like Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk. It reminded me what song it was, instead of calling it “Song Number 32″ or whatever. I was recording vocals, and “Jangle Tusk” was last, and the recording engineer at Electrical Audio, Taylor Hales, asked, “When do we get to work on ‘Jangle Tusk’?” And I responded, “I don’t know, I’m still working on lyrics on that one...you’ve never even heard it, why are you so excited to work on that one?” He said, “I love the title!” And I thought, “I’ll put some thought into that, but those two words aren’t conjuring that much imagery for me.” I really like the word “mangled,” and I had just gone through this ordeal with my teeth and having to wear a nightguard. [laughs] So I started writing lyrics about gnawing and the enamel chipping away. It’s a song about aging, in a way, but I got that stern talking-to from my dentist: “We made you a nightguard years ago and you didn’t wear it, we made you one four years ago and you didn’t wear it, we’ll make you another one and you have to wear this.” I said, “That’s all I have to hear! I’ll wear it every night.” Those lyrics just came based on an odd encouragement from the engineer that liked one other word. 

The process of writing is so strange. With “(Nothing You Can Do) To End This Love”, the lyrics came so fast, and I was just done. I might have written the bridge this year, but the verses and choruses are the heart of the song. There’s a song we recorded called “3/4″--again, a working title based on the time signature--but we couldn’t get lyrics to it, so it’s sitting on the curb, lonely, without words attached to it. Lyrics are last for me every time. “Belly of Lead”, I was recording the demo in my friend Grant [Sutton]’s house, Clampdown Studio. I didn’t have lyrics to the song, so I picked up a lyric book of Lead Belly’s songs, and I was reading random words off every page so I’d have something documented on the demo. From that, I came up with the word “Belly of Lead” and wrote a story based on someone who made poor decisions in their life, coming to the end, trying to write a letter to his son and others, saying goodbye.

SILY: Was this your first time working with Mike Mills?

JN: I had opened up a show for his group The Baseball Project. I met him a number of times, the first time at the 40 Watt Club in Athens in 2006, when Jon and I were playing with Robert Pollard from Guided By Voices. Mike Mills was at that show, and Jon knew him--Jon actually recorded with R.E.M. on one of their Christmas singles. But he introduced me back in ‘06, and throughout the years, we’d run into each other at shows, or Scott McCaughey would be coming through. Just a lot of mutual friends. We always got along great. I didn’t expect him to say yes when I asked him to record. I felt like it was a longshot. I’m really grateful. I like him as a person and am a huge fan of his work with R.E.M.

SILY: What are some of the Easter eggs in the opening track’s title and aesthetic?

JN: There are a lot of layers, for it being a 1-minute instrumental. This [album] is my re-entry into doing Split Single work, since the last one came out in 2016. I write pretty consistently, so there were some songs I had the ideas down for already. But because I was so frustrated with the direction our country was going in, I kept putting down the guitar and thinking, “I can’t do this right now, I need to get out and do something.” I became very involved in this group called Sister District [Project], and I was doing postcard parties where I’d gather friends and others from the community and started working on state senate races across the country. It was very rewarding work. It provided some camaraderie with others who were wondering what the hell we could do. It also had an impact. I canvassed with a state senate candidate in Michigan, I wrote postcards for state senate races all across the country. Thankfully--and I think this has to do with the technological vetting Sister District does--all the candidates we worked for won. That was rewarding. It felt like I had an impact. I was also working on a musical about my very first band Verböten, and that took up a lot of time. Between Verböten and activism, my focus wasn’t on making another Split Single record. Plus Superchunk and Bob Mould were very busy making and touring records.

Back to the song: I wondered if there was a short audible message that I could make that was a little bit of a set up song. “Blood Break Ground” is such a gut punch, so how could I set this up after four and a half years? The sound of that marching band is sort of what I was feeling and hearing during those years. “That’s not supposed to be there: Why is there a tack piano in the marching band? This tempo isn’t right. Why is it slowing down now?” I put in an old cash register sound, so [it’s like] the grift is on. This is all about making money. If you look at the title, if you look at the letters in the title that are capitalized, it spells “PAIN IS UR CON”.

SILY: Sequencing-wise, you have “Adrift” as the emotional and personal centerpiece. It’s not outwardly political like the other songs. It’s also very downtempo. Did you consciously try to mix the album up in terms of tempo, aesthetic, and subject matter?

JN: There’s a defiance in the first three songs [after the opener]. I thought “Adrift” was a really strong song that kind of sounds like an album closer, but I didn’t want to put it last because I felt like it was too important. It was very difficult to figure out what would come after it, since it was so different. “Bitten by the Sound” has that long intro that builds up, so I thought it was a good transition. You can hear thematically how “Belly of Lead” is a completely different, not personal story, and [the album] closes with “Worry” and “Satellite”, which are very personal. Overall, the up-tempo songs are the ones I’m excited to play live. Besides “Adrift”, you could play all of them that way.

SILY: On “Belly of Lead”, you sing, “My word will make no difference.” Your experience with Sister District Project was the antithesis of that sentiment, but was that line in any way referential to anxiety you had about speaking out?

JN: No, that was just the character [in the song]…in “95 Percent”, though, I addressed something I felt and that a lot of liberal-minded Americans feel, which is we’re very clear that we’re not 100% behind the ones we support. There are things I disagree with Barack Obama about. We’re not a part of a cult. I support equality and equity and true justice, not law and order justice, as the other side claims.

SILY: On “Bitten by the Sound”, you sing, “Sat in a classroom led by an old nun / Sister thought she knew all about rock n roll / But instant karma got the best of her / When she lied about holding Lennon’s hands in her own.” What’s the story behind that line?

JN: I had a music teacher that was a nun in 6th grade. She had a story about meeting John Lennon and holding his hands in hers and giving him advice. Even [as a] 6th grader, [I] looked around and thought, “She’s full of shit.” Now that I’m older, I think if you’re gonna want to impress people and make up some bullshit, why pick a famous person who just died who can’t back up the story? It was part of my childhood that affected my relationship with authority and trusting adults. Music was everything to me, so don’t fuck with that! Don’t make up a John Lennon story. In the song, I talk about that. I was 9 or 10 years old, and my mom lived on the South Side of Chicago, 53rd and Woodlawn, and we woke up one morning and looked out the window, and her car was sitting on brick. All 4 tires were stolen. I just didn’t even know that was a thing. Those are formidable years. You discover music and find solace and peace. Everything feels good with music when everything around you is shaken and uncertain.

SILY: I don’t know whether it’s the mixture of the Christianity and the rock history references, but I heard the line and could hear Craig Finn singing it.

JN: That’s funny. I should mention that I was not at a Catholic school, which is why it’s weird a nun was teaching a music class. That song not so much [musically]. I think the song “95 Percent” definitely has some Hold Steady in it. There’s something about The Hold Steady that’s unabashed, “We’re gonna play rock and roll.” It’s a cool thing. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a guitar solo here.” It’s not too-cool-for-school indie rock. “95 Percent” was influenced by Mac [McCaughan] from Superchunk, a little bit of Springsteen, a little Hold Steady. Just need to add a girl’s name, and it would be very Hold Steady.

SILY: Were there any other prominent or newfound influences on this record?

JN: “Adrift” is so different for me. I learned this from Bob Mould: He writes way more songs than the record needs. You never know. A number of times, he’ll have a song that he thinks should be a B-side, and I’ll raise my hand and say, “I think that should be on the record.” “Fire in the City” is an example of that. I was like, “This song is too good.” It ended up on Beauty & Ruin. We don’t always end up using it, but it’s a good influence. I went into this record and thought, “I have extra time--it can’t hurt to keep going.” I ended up going back to a power pop song that I don’t even know had a title. There was one part of it I really liked. I picked up an acoustic guitar and didn’t even have a pick near me. I strummed the chords with my thumb very quietly and slowly and “Adrift” just fell out. Words and everything, just super fast. I had never recorded a song that vulnerable, that personal, that dark. I don’t think I’ve recorded a song without a guitar pick either. You can hear my stomach growl at some point. 

It just so happened I got a text from Alison Chesley who was in Verbow with me, and I asked, “Can I send you a song? Can you put some cellos on here?” She came back with this beautiful arrangement and even a piano part. I think it really elevated it and made it a much more engaging song. That’s the first time Alison and I had recorded in 22 years.

SILY: I thought maybe the experience of looking back with Verböten inspired you to reach out to her. It’s funny that it was just a random text from her that started it.

JN: I think the musical influenced this record in two ways. Not that one. I wrote so many punk rock songs for Verböten, that it reminded me that I like it when I write up-tempo songs. I definitely pushed more high energy songs for the record. [And the other is] “Blood Break Ground” happened because I had to do so much revisiting of emotions from my childhood [for Verböten] that there were other parts of my childhood that I hadn’t addressed yet.

SILY: How did the album’s bio come about? Did you want Jon Glaser to write a legitimate bio, and he came back with something absurd instead?

JN: I mean, he’s a comedian. I know it’s the job of the publicist and the journalist to have as much information presented as possible, but I also think there’s value in not taking it too seriously.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the record title?

JN: The trauma of the Trump years combined with the incredible trauma of the pandemic, which will take a very long time for many of us to recover from. I feel like everything’s amplified. I thought about calling the record Amplified but found that there were a lot of other albums called that, and it was also a pretty basic word. So I thought, “What’s a little twist we can put on that?” A friend of mine, Alberto, is fluent in Spanish, so I asked him for the proper version of that word for this situation.

SILY: What about the cover art?

JN: That’s a Chicago artist named Yvonne Doll. I follow her on Instagram and have been friends with her for years. She’s a musician and a painter. That particular piece came up, and I couldn’t stop looking at it, so I asked whether we could use it for the artwork. Thankfully, she was cool with that. When I presented that and some other photos, the designer, [Chris Tillman], ran with that red theme.

SILY: How was the experience of playing lawn shows during the pandemic?

JN: It was incredible. I was so thankful to Jake [Samuels, Managing Partner and Talent Buyer] and SPACE for coming up with the concept and thankful that people were enthusiastic about doing them. I did about 53 of them last year. It sort of emotionally and financially saved me. I loved how creative it was. I could tell you so many crazy stories about different situations like planning for a rainstorm to come, a small crowd, a huge crowd where the cops showed up. It was great. I’m excited to do more of those. 

On Saturday, I played at Thalia Hall to a private show of 20 people. It was honestly euphoric. It was the first rock club show I had done since January 3, 2020 with Superchunk at the Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro. So many things that I hadn’t thought about, like setting up on a stage and the camaraderie with the crew and talking about different lighting setups and sound options, walking to the dressing room. It was incredible. It felt so good. Even for 20 people. And they were there to party. They weren’t just sitting down drinking wine. They were standing up, dancing, leaning up on the stage and screaming. It’s gonna take time, and it needs to be safe, but certainly with the outdoor shows, there are a lot of options being explored, and hopefully by the fall, there will be many more people vaccinated.

SILY: The album’s really up-tempo, as you’ve said. Have you thought about adapting these songs to a solo style of play?

JN: I think any of the songs besides the marching band one I could do live.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading that’s caught your attention?

JN: Oh my god, there are so many new bands I’ve been listening to. New Pagans. There’s this band called Kestrels. It’s very 90′s, like if Built to Spill or Dinosaur Jr. had a baby. CONTROL TOP. I like the new Real Estate record. Sinai Vessel. I love that English band Shame. I think their new record’s really cool. Miss Grit. I get really inspired by newer artists. It’s something I spend a lot of time with.

[shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl]

More dangan thieves

“Toot! Toot! This is a HOLD UP!”

“Or maybe doot doot? Ibuki can’t choose which gun to use! Tu turuu~”

“Cease your movement, unruly shadows! Do not make me repeat myself.“

“Are you sure that’s aaaaall the money you have? Let’s open you up and check just to be sure!“

Ibuki Mioda Codename: Noise or Encore Arcana: Sun

Mask: Metal face mask from Mad Max except it extends up to her two oni horns hair [NOTE: unlike all the other masks, only Ibuki's doesn't cover her eyes but beware, her true power lies in her voice]

Ourfit: Looks like something picked out from Kingdom Hearts with all the unnecessary belts and zippers, honestly what style is she even going for? The color scheme is still the same except instead of the school uniform, she wears a lot of leather like a post-apocalyptic musician. Her gloves are mismatched: her right is pink and ends at her wrist while her left is striped pink and ends at her elbow.

Persona: Mousai [yes, she gets all 9 muses in 1 summon, she calls them her band]

*NOTE: Ibuki is that one character who actually tried to apply to become a Dangan Thief. In a convenient turn of events, she managed to eavesdrop on one of their meetings (who knew that doing dubious vocal training at suspicious corners would pay off!) and she was excited as hell! She thought they were cool and wanted to try it out. Through sheer confidence (much to the annoyance of the party), she was able to convince them to let her join (mostly to watch) on one of their field days. Things escalated but thankfully she awakened her persona in the moment of crisis.

Skillset: Strong nuclear skills, weak to psychokinesis; high critical rates but also low resistance to status ailments

Weapons: Guitar axe, sword flute, hammer drum, tuning dagger, trombone shotgun, trumpet pistol, harp crossbow, violin bow, french horn grenade launcher (where does Ibuki get all these weapons?!)

All-Out Attack Card: "Face the music" blasting from speakers (think Coma Doof of Mad Max Fury Road) with her weapon on fire she shouts, "This girl is on fiyaaaaaah!"

Awakening Scene: Mousai: All this shouting reminds us of a song, does it not? A pitiful song. Look at them, walking all over you, drumming to a rhythm that silences yours. Are you just going to let this miserable song go on? Where is your voice? Why aren't you singing louder than these fools who think they can!

Ibuki: This is the part where Ibuki proves you wrong mysterious voice inside Ibuki's head! Clearly you're new to my concert 'cause you would know that I was just warming up! Ibuki didn't become a rockstar by being quiet, Ibuki ROARED! I'll show you just how loud I can be at FULL VOLUME!

Mousai: And here we thought you couldn't get any louder. Your song has finally reached us. As you already know, all great musicians had to sign a contract. I art thou... thou art I...

Ibuki: ROCK AND ROCK AND ROCK AND ROCK AND ROCKROCKROCKROCKROCK AND ROLL, MOUSAI!

Quotes: "Onwards to the next concert, Ace Detective!" "Too fast! I didn't even get to do a solo!" "I leveled up! And I have song to celebrate with!" “Oooooh! A new skill! I can totally rock this!” "That sparkle! That shine! That shining shimmering splendid! It's a treasure chest! Let's go for it!" "A safe room you say? Let's take five and rehearse." “Nothing exciting like wandering in someone's world inside their head.” "Hehehe... I'm just warming up. Bring on the show!" “Can I get an encore? Do you want more?” "Wheeeeeew, boy am I pooped! Let's stop the tour here please." "Look, a shadow! We should go say hi!" “A rabbid fan saw us! Run run run RUN!” "It's like an amateur facing off with a pro... boring and unfair." “Mmmmmhhhhh, I feel like that one would explode with just one note.” "Huh?! You want to fight that? Okay but this is a death flag just saying." “Watch out! This feels like one of those important showdowns! Gotta get your cool lines ready beforehand.” “All my friends, we're glorious! Tonight we are victorious!”

*BATON PASS!* "LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE!" *PROTECT* "Move, bitch! Get out the way!" *ENDURE* "Ugh... My last one standing game is strong!" *PERSONA!* "Burn the stage down, Mousai!" *Follow Up* "Need a second voice for that solo?" *Cover Fire* "Please oh please let me do the chorus." *Harisen Recovery* "Wake up, get up, GET OUT THERE!" *low on health* "I can see it... my ending! AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" *healing someone* "Don't die on me for plot device!" *getting healed* "Aaaaaaah! Feeling alive is so much better than feeling dead." *giving buffs* "Power ups for more power!" *physical attacks* "How do you like the sound of that?" *attacking* "GET REKT!" *attack misses* “Oh no! My hidden ditzy character is showing!" *couldn't finish off enemy* "Can't believe it didn't die, so rude!" *fainting* "It's weird... I can't seem to hear anything... so sad." *getting resurrected* “An encore? Well don't mind if I do!"

[lmao these are all song lyrics] *status ailment* "I, I shake it off! I shake it off!" Burn: "It's fire burning! Fire burning on the dance floor!" Freeze: “Yo, VIP, Let's kick it!!!! Ice! Ice! Baby!” Shock: "Girl, I'm all charged up! Cutie! Electro-cutie!" Forget: "See you driving 'round town with the girl I love and I'm like. Forget you! Ooh, ooh, ooh~" Charm: "We found love in a hopeless place~" Rage: "Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the... FLOOOOOOOOOR!" or “ORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!” Despair: "Please don't take... my sunshine away..." Hunger: "Ah ya ya ya ya I! Keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean!" Dizzy: "You spin my head right round, right round. When you go down, when you go down down." Sleep: “In the jungle... the mighty jungle... the lion sleeps tonight... A weema-weh, wimoweh, wimba way, awimbawe..." Silence: *#@$%&?! or (somebody stole my car radio and now I just sit in silence) Mouse: *to the tune of hickory dickory dock* "Squeaksqueaksqueak squeaksqueaksqueak squeak~"

Mementos Chats: "The acoustics here are amazing! I bet I can yell and it would ECHOOOOOOOO!" "Uuuuuuuggggggghhhhh. Why does Silence even exist? It just makes me want to be LOUDER!" "I tried singing to them shadows, like legit singin not attacking-singing. And they just exploded? Rude!" "Shadows haven't developed the advanced hearing we people persons have. Otherwise they would have been enjoying my concerts." "Hey, maybe I should write my next song about Dangan Thieves. 'You stole my heart so I'm stealing your distorted desires'"

Ibuki: Maybe I should try bringing more instruments next time. I want to try pulling off a concert with my new band! Hajime: For the last time, your persona is not a band. Please only limit summoning them for thieving purposes.

Hajime: I knew you always had a dangerous taste in music but this is just taking it to the next level. Ibuki: What are you talking about, SpaceAce? This is just my usual.

Chiaki: This is so exciting, I think. I've always liked those characters who literally use music to attack. Ibuki: Awwww, that's so sweet of you, Bonbon. I'm gonna dedicate my next song to you!

Nagito: You are lively as always, ahahaha. Nothing can keep your hope quiet, how wonderful! Ibuki: Damn right! Noise is here to turn up the volume!

Fuyuhiko: Where the fuck do you get all these crazy shit weapons? Ibuki: They're Noise Originals obviously! Made them myself to use during concerts but my bandmates never let me.

Peko: The way you wield your instruments... it is quite intriguing. It looks reckless but under trained eyes, it actually holds perfect form. You make it look so easy. Ibuki: Hrrrrr, I don't really get what you say. I just play like how I would, ya know?

Mahiru: Please tell me you don't actually use your weapons in real life. Ibuki: Definitely nadah! Noise is against fighting. Oh, but I do use them to play some sweet notes sometimes.

Ibuki: If I can summon nine people, that's eight more than normal! Oh, no! Does that mean Noise has multiple personalities! Impostor: No, that's not it. I can assure you that's not your case and there's no need for you to worry.

Impostor: Ibuki:

Tsumiki: U-Um, please not so loud when near other people. Hiiii! I'm so s-sorry! It's just, um... it could cause hearing problems so... sorry! Ibuki: It's cool, dokidoki! I just gotta be loud far far away, got it.

Sonia: You have quite the unique persona. To think that your other self looks like a group of nine persons, how interesting! Ibuki: I knooooow! It's like my fantasy band! Me, myself, and I, and I, and I, and I, and I, and I, and I, and Loud I.

------

Gundam Tanaka Codename: (Evil Overlord) Lich Arcana: Strength

Mask: Aku Shogun of Sorrow Mask by EpicLeather

Ourfit: Typical evil overlord getup (think castlevania dracula). Old fashion, dark and edgy, with a cape (black on the outside, violet on the inside), and his purple long scarf still wrapped around his neck. His left sleeve is rolled up until his elbow but instead of bandages, there's a gauntlent made of bones. His gloves have a skeletal design.

*IMPORTANT NOTE: Even though none of his hamsters have awakened, Gundam still insists on bringing the Four Dark Devas of Destruction with him, even going so far as making them all tiny  individual masks, and redubbing them as the Four Dangan Devas of Thieving. Their codenames are as follows:

"Supernova Silver Fox" San-D: Inari "Mirage Golden Hawk" Jum-P: Horus "Crimson Steel Elephant": Ganesha "Invading Black Dragon" Cham-P: Ao Shun

Persona: Kaminari-sama, god of lightning, thunder, storms Note: unlike popular depictions, Gundam's persona looks more adorable than threatening, it's cute AF, takes a form similar to the momonga, japanese dwarf flying squirrel, but with sparks

Skillset: Strong zio skills but weak to garu Weapons: Pair of sai and revolver or flintlock

All-Out Attack Card: “INFINITY UNLIMITED FLAME” written in a summon circle with dark flames scorching in the background and he says, "Ha! You weak creatures make me laugh!"

Awakening Scene: Kaminari-sama: How many times more will you let people make a mockery of your power? You are a Lord of Darkness, are you not? And yet rather than respect, they throw ridicule and insults at you, call you a false god. A powerless god. I ask you this, are you truly that powerless?

Gundam: For a demon born from the abyss of my heart, you should already know the answer. I've been ridiculed enough by others so do not dare join their mockery! A powerless god you say, ha! They spout insults AND lies! My power is no joke. And they would regret every word they said that assumed otherwise!

Kaminari-sama: Spoken like a true Dark Lord. As long as you understand your rights then let us proceed with the contract. I art thou... thou art I... The power you've longed for is already within your grasp. You are no benevolent god. You are an Evil Overlord who destroys all obstacles and punishes all those who oppose you!

Gundam: That's right! Bwahaha! At last! The seal on my dark powers has finally been broken! From this day forth, I have been born anew, only to lay waste to those before me! Strike them down, Kaminari-sama!

Codename: Gundam: Hahaha! At last! The time to unleash my wrath upon the world has come! Tremble before the destructive force before you!

Chiaki: Congratulations on unlocking your persona, Gundam. New party member acquired!

Nagito: It was quite the sight to behold, your awakening, truly I am lucky to witness such hope. Ah, and now you've decided to join us as well. Hmmm, I suppose it's time to address the next issue. So what should his codename be?

Gundam: Ha! I've been waiting for this moment! From here on out you shall address me by my true name! For I am Evil Overlo—

Mahiru: Overruled.

Gundam: W-What's this blasphemy? I haven't even finished yet!

Fuyuhiko: Yeah, you don't need to finish that for us to know it was going to be a long ass name. Newsflash edgelord, we're only shooting for two syllables at most.

Gundam: How preposterous! That is simply not enough to seal my abyssmal power in words. Do you not understand the consequences should my strength remain unrestrained? This pathetic world shall be torn asunder!

Peko: Perhaps we should hear him out first. There must be at least something short for a codename in what he was proposing. Let's try to focus on the main component of his name and then debate on the honorifics later. Is that acceptable enough?

Gundam: Hmph, as long as you do not forget then I shall agree to those terms for now.

Tsumiki: Then um... What would you l-like your codename to be?

Gundam: Evil Overlord of the Underworld

Mahiru: Too long! And I still can't pick any of those for a codename! Take this seriously, will you?

Gundam: You dare question my name? It would seem mortals still lack the skill to comprehend true power before their eyes.

Impostor: It's actually more of a technicality. We can't call you Overlord or Lord because it'll simply get confused with mine, King. Evil and Underworld are out of the question. Is there no other name you wish to go by?

Gundam: Ah... I see. Someone else has claimed a similar name. Even a dark lord such as myself knows to honor rights. I did not foresee such an event.

Chiaki: In other words, you didn't have any backup aliases... I think.

Sonia: Hold your head high, my dark overlord! For I shall crown you with a name worthy of your esteem!

Gundam: What? What is this name that you speak of, Dark Queen?

Sonia: *whispers to herself* Actually, I go by Enchantress here but I don't mind being called your Dark Queen... *clears throat* There is a name spoken with fear in my country. I believe only you can hold it with the same tenacity. Lich, a being of the dark arts. It suits you, does it not, Evil Overlord Lich?

Gundam: Evil Overlord Lich... Fuhuhu... Yes! I can feel the dark arts resonating with it! COWER BEFORE THE MIGHT OF EVIL OVERLORD LICH! Bwahahaha!

Chiaki: Good for you, Evil Overlord Lich.

Hajime: No. No way. We are NOT going to call him that all the time.

Gundam: Traitor! You had promised me freedom in choosing my name! Are you saying that you had no honor to uphold those words from the very beginning!

Nagito: Oh, my. It seems you've upset him. It would be a lengthy discussion if we decide to change his codename at this point. How about we settle for a compromise instead?

Hajime: Fine. We'll call you Evil Overlord Lich whenever but in battles we are redacting that to Lich. Is that compromise enough?

Gundam: I suppose those are agreeable terms. The contract is sealed. You now have my blood in your hands, do your best to not fall prey to its insanity.

Hajime: Yeah, sure whatever. Good to know that you're finally happy. Now let's go.

Gundam: Do not dare to leave just yet. There is another important matter that needs your immediate attention. Be grateful that I had warned you or else you would have suffered a horrible death.

Fuyuhiko: Oh, c'mon! We've already spent like ten minutes here. What else do you want to talk about? Your fucking madeup backstory?

Gundam: You should tread carefully with your words, mere mortal. But no, this urgent business does not address me. It is a decision regarding beings higher than myself.

Mahiru: We get it. Higher powers. Fancy words. Just get to the point and let's be done with this.

Gundam: Now that my power has been sealed by name, I request your assistance in performing more seals... specifically four.

Quotes: "I have spells that last longer than that fight. Let us set off!" "Muwahahaha... I can feel it! Power surges through my veins!" “My repertoir increases yet again!” "A treasure chest? What dangers does this one hold within?" "We've arrived at a safe room. Do not waste this moment's reprieve." “This journey pales in comparison to the trek I did to reach the Underworld where my brethren live.” "An Evil Overlord is a being void of humanity. Worry not for I need no rest." “My mortal vessel is proving to be cumbersome. Even so, I will not let it hold me back.” "Do not mistake this exhaustion for weakness. Contain such great power puts a toll on any mortal body and my vessel has reached its limits." "Fiends run amok. Shall we cleanse the area?" “Ack! We've been sighted? They must have felt the disturbance in the air." “I take pity on these unworthy opponents.” "They are no threat to us. Quickly decide on their fates." "Tread carefully! Even from this distance, I can sense the oppressiveness of their powers." “We must prepare ourselves for this one or our lives shall be forfeit.” “Another victory to add to my inordinate saga!”

*BATON PASS!* "Face the wrath of The Evil Overlord Lich!" *PROTECT* "Fool! Defend yourself!" *ENDURE* "You fiend... Did you think that was enough to best me?" *PERSONA!* "Rise forth, Kaminari-sama!" or "Strike them down, Kaminari-sama!" *Follow Up* "Call upon my wrath!" *Cover Fire* "Let my thunderstorm rain upon them!" *Harisen Recovery* "Do not disappoint me!" *low on health* "Hmph... Did you truly think that dying would strike fear into my heart?" *healing someone* "It's far too early for you to join me in the Underworld." *getting healed* "I shall remember your generosity." *giving buffs* "By the dark arts, I imbue you with strength!" *physical attacks* "Lightning strikes! Twice!" *attacking* "Your end is nigh!" *attack misses* “Preposterous! You avoided your fate?" *couldn't finish off enemy* "Delaying the inevitable will only bring you greater suffering." *fainting* "Fallen I have... but my life was one lived to the fullest." *getting resurrected* “A second chance? If you truly miss me then I will gladly return at your call.”

*status ailment* "Curse this mortal body!" Burn: "This fire holds no flame against my Infinity Unlimited Flame!" Freeze: “This frostbite is all bark and no bite!” Shock: "Betrayed...? By my own element?" Forget: "My name... has been sealed again?" Charm: “The call of darkness beckons me!” Rage: “Face the wrath of my fury!” Despair: "All these struggles... are they even worth it?" Hunger: "The beast within howls! I recquire sustenance immediately!" Dizzy: "What's this? I can't sense their aura as sharply!" Sleep: “Snore... Tremblewithfear... Zzz...” Silence: !!! Mouse: "SQUEAK!"

Mementos Chats: "Be grateful, foolish mortals, for I am a generous Dark Lord who spares his time for your thievery." "Some of the shadows look more animalistic than fiendish... what is this inner turmoil?" "The storm surges on outside in the real world. Now is the time to strike terror into the shadows!" "I can feel it... My Evil Eye tells me that there is great malice within the walls of Mementos." "I shall conquer the real world and the cognitive world as well!" "An Evil Overlord serving as a Dangan Thief... Of course, evil is known to wear many masks."

Chiaki: Our personas should reflect our own psyches, right? Hajime: I guess. I mean they aren't called our "other selves" for no reason. Chiaki: Hmmm, I see. I wonder what that says about Lich. Nagito: Ah, I now understand why you brought this up. He does posess an... interesting persona. Fuyuhiko: Just call it as it is. It's fucking adorable that's what. Mahiru: For a guy who's edgier than a knife, he's actually a huge softie on the inside. Ibuki: Oyaoya? Could this be what they call "gap moe"? Tsumiki: B-But it's still dangerous! It h-hurt a lot when he got brainwashed and used it on me, hiiii! Impostor: True, we must not underestimate it for its appearance. His persona is terrifying... no matter how cute it seems. Peko: That may be so... I wonder if it's fur is as soft as it looks... Maybe since it's a persona, I can actually get to pet it. Sonia: It would seem that everyone has taken a liking to your persona, oh Dark One. It's very cute indeed. Gundam: Cute is not befitting for a god! It's merely a disguise for you to let your guard down- cease your shallow appraisal on its appearance!

Gundam: I thought we agreed that you would address me by my full title outside of battles. Hajime: Lich can you not.

Hajime: I can't believe you really did bring your hamsters with you... Wait, are those masks? You even made them their own masks? By hand? Gundam: How else do you suppose would they acquire garments fitting of gods?

Chiaki: Whenever Lich talks, it's like I'm playing an old fantasy RPG. Recruiting an Evil Overlord as a party member is amazing, I think. Gundam: Even for someone as aloof as yourself, you say the wisest things. No need to thank my generosity, you're welcome.

Nagito: It's actually quite thoughtful of you to make masks for your hamsters. These are very well made even. As expected of someone filled with so much hope! Gundam: Fufufu... Your praise will not earn you any favors but it is acceptable enough.

Fuyuhiko: You could tone it down with your fancy shit. Seriously just yell zio like any person with common sense would, no need for a five minute incantation full of crap. Gundam: You lack the power to understand the full potential of my spells. My incantations fuel the strength of my skills so do not underestimate their value.

Peko: Even in the Metaverse, the animal-based shadows fear me... Gundam: Do not despair over such a loss. Come now, let my Four Dangan Devas of Thieving comfort you.

Mahiru: Your outfit is impractical as always. Isn't that cape too long? You're going to step on it one day. Gundam: A small price to pay for the physical manifestation of my power. There is nothing to fear for I, Evil Overlord Lich, shall die by

Tsumiki: Um... Is it really alright for those four to join us? These battles can get life-threatening...   Gundam: Fret not, nurse of the heart. These four devas are more trained than I. Should the need arise, they are capable of defending themselves.

Impostor: So we have a King and an Overlord, and yet our leader is called Ace. Gundam: The Chosen One must humble themselves to serve a position of such high authority. Although this does bring attention to an issue. Perhaps we should discuss with him a change of title.

Ibuki: Yahooo! Now that Lychee has real powers, does that make him OOC when he talks about his fake real powers? Noise is confused. Gundam: It's Lich, Noisy One. And I don't need to understand your outdated language to know that you've thrown ridicule at me. I've always had this power. It's just that only now with the seal is broken can you bear witness to its wrath.

Sonia: Oh, how lovely! You brought the four devas with you today as well. May I? Gundam: ...They would not be so opposed.

Sonia: As expected of you! Your outfit is as handsome as your usual! Gundam: *hides under scarf* I... could say the same to you. Yours suit you quite well.

Gundam: It is... new to me to have a creature bound to me and yet have no obligation to care for it regularly. Sonia: Oh, you're talking about your persona, aren't you? I see, I didn't think it would bother you this much. That just shows how much dedicated you are, it's quite admirable.

Gundam: That was a formidable move you used back there. Your fire for chaos burns ever so fervently. Sonia: Thank you, that's one of my favorite fires actually.

-----

Hiyoko Saionji Codename: Ibis Arcana: Tower

Mask: Red bird shaped mask with a long black beak

Ourfit: Traditional shrine maiden attire (red hakama or pleated skirt tied with a bow, white haori, some ribbons) The sleeves look like feathers to further resemble the Japanese crested ibis.

Persona: Karura, divine creature with human torso and birdlike head

*NOTE: Hiyoko is recruited after getting Mahiru, she is introduced during one of Mahiru's confidant events. If you use Mahiru enough times in the active party then this will trigger an extra quest wherein Hiyoko eventually joins the team. She only joins because of Mahiru obviously.

Skillset: Strong garu skills and weak to zio. Good at inflicting status ailments and debuffs, and nullifying party debuffs. Weapons: Tessen (japanese war fan) and fukiya (japanese blow gun)

All-Out Attack Card: "Dance on someone's grave" painted on the backdrop of a traditional stage and she says, "Squish! Squish! Ahahaha! You're all WEAK!"

Awakening Scene: Karura: What is your next step? Will you just cry over it like some child? Have you not grown up at all? For all the elegance and maturity that your dance brings, your steps falter outside that of a stage. How pitiful. Perhaps crying suits you more than dancing given how spoiled you've become.

Hiyoko: How dare you! I'm not a kid! I haven't been a kid ever since I wore my first kimono! Why are you so mean to me? Aren't you supposed on my side? Everyone keeps ganging up on me. I hate you all! Cry? Don't make me laugh. The only ones who'll be crying are my enemies as I crush them under my heels!

Karura: Yes, that is the attitude most befitting on you. The dance is always most exciting at its climax. I art thou... thou art I... Abandon your childlike innocence, you have no need for that where we are heading. The merciless spirit of a warrior suits you more, as it should. Do not shed tears but rather strive for your enemy's bloodshed.

Hiyoko: Hmph! You don't need to tell me twice. I'm gonna have soooo much fun playing with them! And CRUSHING them to pieces. Once I enter the stage, only I leave in one piece. Dance, Karura!

Quotes: "Too easy. Hey, what are you standing there for? Let's go, bowtie." "Yaaaay! I leveled up!" “New skill! Yay! I wonder how painful this one would be!” "Look! A treasure chest! It's all sparkly and shouting to be opened!" "Finally, a safe room! My feet huuuuuurt!" “Why isn't there just a shortcut to the treasure?” "I got a good sleep which means I can play more today!" “As long as I get to kill some shadows then I guess I can go along just a bit more.” "Ehhh? We're still going? I don't wannaaaaaaa." "Look, a bug! Let's crush it." "We were spotted? This is all your fault!" “They're so weak that at least insects leave a mark after.” "Huh? Are you sure? They look pretty scary to me." “They're obviously big bad meanies. Don't get us killed over your stupidity.” “Victory! Yay! Who knew killing shadows could be so fun!”

*BATON PASS!* "Ibis elegantly flying in!" *PROTECT* "Hey, pushover!" *ENDURE* "*sniffles* I don't want to die!" *PERSONA!* "Slaughter them, Karura!" or "Soar, Karura!" *Follow Up* "Let's kill them while we're at it." *Cover Fire* "I'll help if you ask niiiiicely." *Harisen Recovery* "Don't be such a baby!" *low on health* "A little help here?!" *healing someone* "You owe me for this." *getting healed* "*mumbles* Thanks..." *giving buffs* "Now you don't have any excuse." *physical attacks* "Oh this? Don't mind the sharp edges." *attacking* "Ahahaha! You're going to get sliced like fish!" *attack misses* "Huuuh? You have a lot of nerve to dodge that!" *couldn't finish off enemy* "Seriously? Just die already!" *fainting* "*crying* Why... Why are you all so mean?" *getting resurrected* "*sniffles* Thanks. Now I can finally get my revenge."

*status ailment* "I don't feel so good... *sniffle*" Burn: "Too hot! I want some ice cream!" Freeze: “Are you trying to freeze me to death? Get me a kotatsu!” Shock: "Tch! I'm going to kill you twice for this!" Forget: "Huh? What was the next step again?" Charm: “Well who could blame me? If I'm fighting then I'm fighting with the winning team.” Rage: “I'll break you... piece by broken piece!” Despair: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Why is this so hard!" Hunger: "Sweets! Hand me gummies right now! No yellow!" Dizzy: "Euugh... I think I'm going to be sick..." Sleep: “Zzz… CRUSH” Silence: ...! Mouse: "Squeak!"

Mementos Chats: "Killing shadows is sooooo much fun! Yay!" "You know what else is fun? Having the shadows beg for mercy as we extort more money from them. "I was raised in a traditional household and traditionally, we always get what we want." "All this fighting makes me crave for some sweets." "If I knew how much fun it is to kill shadows without consequence then I would have signed up for Dangan Thieves sooner!"

Hiyoko: Ehh? You're the leader? Well aren't you just disappointing. Hajime: I'm really starting to think we shouldn't accept everyone who joins.

Hajime: Why am I actually not surprised at how sadistically good you are at this? Hiyoko: Ew! I'm not interested so don't bother complimenting me.

Chiaki: Amazing! I've only seen it in videogames but you can actually fight using fans! Hiyoko: I can do so much more than just fight. There's slice and kill too.

Nagito: I was wondering how you would adapt here but clearly I've underestimated your hope. You're more than capable in battle, I'm pleasantly surprised by this development. Hiyoko: Why is this creep here? Are you going to kick him out or do I have to?

Fuyuhiko: Don't get all cocky just because you've got a few tricks up your sleeve. Hiyoko: Oh look, the Baby Gangster knows how to talk.

Peko: So that makes two of us with bird motifs... Hiyoko: It's frustrating that I wasn't the first one but I guess we have no choice but to share.

Tsumiki: I-I'm so happy that you're with us too! Hiyoko: Shut it! No one asked for your opinion, pig barf! But for the record, someone has to look after you so you don't screw up like you always do.

Ibuki: Ibissy~ Look at you! Killing shadows! Stealing treasures! Wow, you sure grow up fast! Hiyoko: It literally only took me one minute to get a persona and "grow up".

Impostor: Is something the matter? You've been staring. Hiyoko: Wow, I knew pork feet was rich but I didn't think you'd have the balls to wear rich.

Sonia: It's amazing watching you do battle. Your dances are just as captivating as they are deadly! Hiyoko: Not all of us can be this good so I step it up.

Gundam: Since you are new at this, I am generous enough to guide you. Should you have any questions, know that I know more than you. Hiyoko: You guys really don't discriminate when recruiting, huh.

Hiyoko: Waaaaaaaaah! I'm so happy I get to be with you more, Big Sis! Mahiru: Now, now. No need to cry. I'm happy too.

Mahiru: It's a good thing that you joined us. Your skills are unique and valuable. Debuffs can really take a toll. Hiyoko: Not as useful as yours, Big Sis! I'm so happy that there's at least one reliable person here!

Mahiru: I'm kind of jealous that everyone has such elaborate personas and mine is just... this. Hiyoko: Why are you getting sad over that? Yours is waaaay better than what the rest of these losers have.

Hiyoko: Yay! Killing shadows is way more fun than squishing bugs! Mahiru: Hearing you say that with such a carefree face makes me worry a bit... Just don't get too carried away.

[lifein-pieces]

Hemmings & a bottle of rum

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Luke hemmings smut 

Request- Hi can you do a luke smut request where ur the band song writer and one day you and luke get tipsy and they end up having it in Luke’s hotel room (Hope you like it)

Word count- 2,200+

You scrunched your eyebrows, utterly frustrated and scratched out the few lyrics you had written on the piece of paper for what felt like the thousandth time. You preferred to write from experience and emotion, but right now you felt as if you were blocked. You stood up from your chair, crumpling the paper and threw it, along with the pen across the room. You groaned loudly and in that little fit of yours you almost didn’t notice the 5sos boys along with John Feldman and Alex Gaskarth walk into the room.

“When you said you like to work alone, I didn’t know it included this” Michael laughed out causing everyone else to snicker and laugh as well. Your eyes immediately darted to Luke’s icy blue ones to see what he felt about your little tantrum. Thankfully, he wasn’t laughing but you could see the amusement in his eyes. You blushed a deep shade of red and just looked down at your feet in embarrassment.

“Have you got anything yet?” Ashton voiced what everyone was thinking. “Yeah” you muttered quietly and signalled with your eyes that it was the same piece of paper you threw across the room. Luke was quick to react and practically jogged to the paper before you could protest. “Hey, it’s a work in progress” you said softly, worried about his opinions on your first draft.

Luke’s eyes moved back and forth across the paper, reading the few scribbled lines intently. His eyes widened the slightest and you walked to him and snatched the paper out of his hand. “I know it’s not good, but I’ll get there” you said exasperated and at the same time Luke was shaking his head ready to contradict what you had just said. You held your hand up in front of his face saying, “Save it”

You walked out of the studio and went to sit on the couch in the corridor. “Was it that bad?” John questioned in disbelief because he never ever doubted your talent. “Quite the opposite really” Luke said in a raspy voice and the image of him running his hands through his blonde locks flashed in your mind.

You walked back in, deciding you were being too immature and sat on one of the chairs. All of you decided to work on some sounds instead of lyrics as none of them wanted to get on your bad side. Seeing Alex sitting and brainstorming with Luke already you headed over to Ashton who was ready at his drums. He played a few simple beats and the both of you started working together in incorporating new ones.

Little did you know Luke was shooting daggers at his fellow bandmate in jealousy as he could see you getting closer and closer to him. The vein in his forehead was almost popping and in sudden force one of the strings of his guitar broke causing everyone, including you to look up at him. Your eyes locked with his and his features softened visibly.

Sensing the tense atmosphere increasingly today, Calum suggested that we meet tomorrow and continue then. You headed back to the hotel and time passed as you went to the bar with the boys. Luke was missing today though so you passed having a drink, missing your drinking buddy.

Throughout the night there was no appearance of Luke and that caused your curiosity to sky rocket. When it was getting late everyone decided to head back to their rooms while you went to Luke’s. Before you knew it, your hand was raised ready to knock at the door of the blonde boy’s room. You took a deep calming breath and knocked loudly. After hearing feet shuffle at the other side of the door, it opened revealing Luke in a pair of loose sweat pants and a muscle tee.

You took a step inside without waiting for his invitation and saw his room in a mess. You laughed to yourself and turned to look at the boy who was scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t want house keeping in here, touching all my things” Luke answered the question that was at the tip of your tongue. You saw his guitar lying on the king sized bed and commented, “I guess I’m not the only one who likes to work alone”

He walked over to the bed and sat down, placing his guitar on his lap. “I was actually trying some chords to match with the lyrics you wrote today” before you could protest, he continued “they were pretty amazing, Y/N” you shook your head in denial and sat on the chair in front of his bed. “Can I hear it?” you questioned and he instantly nodded.

He started strumming the guitar and sung out the lyrics from today afternoon. You were taken aback by the fact he had added some more of his own lines and how raw and emotional it sounded. “Woah, it does sound pretty good” you said shyly.

Wanting to eliminate the awkwardness in the room you changed the topic. “I missed my drinking buddy today” you said while sighing and walked up to the mini bar in the room. You bent down and pulled out the bottle of old monk. “You know they totally rip you off Y/N. Plus I really don’t like rum” Luke said making a face of disgust. “That’s what you get for ditching me today” you said, sticking out your tongue childishly. You opened the dark liquor bottle and poured a substantial quantity into two separate glasses. You picked up one and handed it to Luke who smelled it and made a gagging noise. Laughing at his silliness, you picked up the packet of cadbury twirls lying on the table. “We can use these as chasers” Luke seemed to love that idea and gulped down the dark liquid, immediately regretting it but opening the wrapper of the chocolate and eating it, just as quickly.

“You’re such a child” you giggled, sipping it first and then taking it like a shot. When you felt your throat burn you knew that this was a bad idea.

An empty bottle of rum and 30 cadbury twirls later, you were lying on the bed whilst Luke was bouncing on it like it was a trampoline. “Luuuuukeee, stop” you moaned and you could feel your head spin. He was on a sugar rush and you were annoyed. After exhausting himself completely, Luke sat down on the bed with his legs crossed staring at you with scrunched eyes. “What the hell are you doing Hemmings?” you asked amused and sat up in front of him.

“I’m just thinking” he said, sighing dramatically. “Bout what?” He grinned and said, “You.”

With the sudden change of mood you said, “What you did today was really amazing, with the song and all.” He shook his head and just looked at you blankly. “They were your lyrics, Y/N. I mean you are pretty amazing” he said, his cheeks held a slight tinge of pink now. “Y/N……” He stretched out like a little kid. “Yes, Luuuuu” you said while giggling. “You’re so cute, I could eat you up” he said. His bright smile slowly transitioned into a smirk and then into an evil tight lipped smile. You looked at him skeptically and the next thing you knew Luke was tickling your sides. You were screeching and laughing at the same time. Your back was on the soft mattress and he was relentless with his tickle-torture.

“Stop Lu, please!” you cried out and he slowed down a bit before stopping. You tucked your bottom lip beneath your teeth and looked into his ocean blue eyes. The ones you were drowning in and the ones you didn’t want to be saved from. You saw his eyes flicker from your own to your pink lips. You were panting in anticipation and he lowered his head ever so slightly.

Lifting your head up from the mattress, his lips were on yours and without wasting any more time his tongue was in your mouth. Although it felt magical, you both were really drunk and it was sloppy to say the least. His hands roamed your body before settling at your t-shirt and yanking it off, not a moment later. He dropped his head down to your neck and started nipping and sucking at the skin there. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he pushed his hips down grinding into you. He rotated his hips and created as much friction as he could, causing you to let out a moan.

Having never really done this with clothes on, you were soaking with the new set of sensations. He kissed you once again with force and you loved the aggression radiating off of him. You tugged at his muscle tee and in a second it was discarded, somewhere on the floor. You flipped over so that he was on the bottom and you were excited to be in control. Lowering your head down, you started sucking on the flesh just above his collarbones, causing him to let out an involuntary moan.

Luke snaked his hand around your back and un-clasped your bra, adding to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His hands grasped both your breasts and roughly massaged them. “I fucking love these” he breathed out and began pinching and twisting your nipples. You sat up with your legs on either side of his waist and continued grinding on him, whilst he was playing with your tits.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Y/N” “Then why don’t you do something about it?” you pushed further.

This seemed to ignite a fire in Luke as in a span of ten seconds your jeans and panties were gone. He grabbed your thighs roughly and kneaded them and you knew there would be bruises there tomorrow. “Sit on my face” he commanded and you didn’t need to be told twice. Your dripping core was above his face and he licked his lips before locking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down so your centre was on his mouth.

He licked a stripe and you shuddered in pleasure. His tongue thrusted in your entrance repeatedly. “Fuck! Luke” you yelled out and this egged him on as he started nibbling softly on your clit and rolling it around like a cherry in his mouth. He then stuck his tongue out so it was flat and moved your hips, effectively causing you to grind on his face. “I’m so close” you said in between moans and he sped up his actions causing you to come undone on his face.

You moved downwards so you were back to you original position, just above his dick. He flipped you over and slammed you down on the bed. “Face down, ass up baby” you whined at the nick name and complied. Your face was against the mattress and your once tied hair was now a complete mess. He took himself in his hands and rubbed it around your core, spreading the juices. “Fuck me, Luke” you whimpered and he pushed himself slowly into you. He closed his eyes at the heavenly feeling of your walls clenched, tight and warm, around him. He placed his hands softly on your waist and you were a bit shocked that he had suddenly become gentle but that didn’t last long as his grip tighten and he pounded into you. With each thrust your body moved forward and backward, in a rhythm.

Luke pulled you upwards and you let out a low mewl. One of his hands went to your breast, playing with them again while the other stayed on your waist. He moved his face minutely so that his lips were near your ear and he nibbled on your ear lobe. “You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you Y/N? Letting me have my way with you” The pleasure increased with this and you replied. “Harder. Fuck me harder” you screamed out, your darkest fantasy coming to life.

He nearly growled and moved his hips faster. You almost lost balance but wrapped one arm around the back of his neck. Your head fell back on his shoulder and you let out a little moan with each thrust. “I’m so close, baby girl” you nodded and he knew you were almost there. “Come for me Y/N” he said, almost yelling. You whined out his name and he let himself go to causing your highs to occur at the same time. Your vision blanked and you allowed yourself to crash down on the bed with Luke falling on top of you.

Heavy breathing was the only thing heard in the room as Luke reached down and pulled up a thin sheet to cover the both of you. Your eyes began to flutter shut as Luke left a soft kiss on your lips and you fell into a deep sleep, too intoxicated by Hemmings and a bottle of rum to utter a word.

[themathrockblog]

FESTIVAL REVIEW: STRANGEFORMS, WHARF CHAMBERS - LEEDS 2017

Having reflexively purchased a ticket upon seeing the immense line-up for last year’s StrangeForms only to find myself unable to attend, I was thrilled to witness the incredible festival for the first time this year. And what a year it was, making up for missing last year with a wealth of friendships forged, conversations relished and most importantly, great bands enjoyed with that mixture of attentiveness and bewilderment that math-rock always brings. In the early Saturday afternoon at the charming DIY space Wharf Chambers, tepid bursts of sunlight shone into the beer garden as punters gathered in surprising numbers to hear local lads Classically Handsome Brutes open the festival. Whopping guitar riffs and thudding bass made for an unsettlingly crunchy sound; the roaring songs always featuring stop/start stabs both as impossibly hard to anticipate as they were tightly performed. Next followed Lost Ground and a subtle change of pace. The first and most delicate vocals of the festival soared over intricate guitar parts, often contrasting with emphatic bass and complimenting jazz-tinged drum work. The set was emotional and engaging, with a sound more lustrous than the sum of its three-pieced together parts.

Off to a great start! The Real Junk Food Project was serving up exquisite food on a pay as you feel basis, fine pale ales were being liberally guzzled inside a venue with the most homely and vibrant feel. An assortment of merchandise and t-shirts colourfully wallpapered the gig room as everyone gleefully quizzed each other in anticipation of their prospective favourite bands to come.

From a line-up brimming with an assortment of three piece bands, Steve Strong stuck out as a tantalising prospect of hearing noises just as full, songs just as enthralling and some of the best drumming of the weekend. Guitar loops were tightly controlled and effortlessly built upon, stripped back from the mix and thrusted in again. Each time the cacophony had found its place, it was given new life by quick and breathtakingly pinpoint percussive work. A stunning performance and a unique chance to see how carefully chosen rhythmic changes can structure a song.

Back to three pieces, this one less time-signature twisting, more groove-fronted power riffs from Memory of Elephants. A tasteful ear for melody was wrestled with as the bass and guitar interlocked with precision to create beefy math-rock at its best. The balanced instrumentation was evident, as the bass shared as many central motifs as the guitar, both musicians tightly synced as if one brain splitting into four hands, blasting sounds through two octave pedals and smashing your eardrums to pieces one spasmodic riff at a time. ‘Who The Fuck Is Runcorn?’, the closer from their second EP, was the pinnacle of the set for me as each stop-start and stab shifted focus around the stage, from ballistic drum fills to bass thuds to guitar screeches. Drums drove the songs with tasteful builds and insanely tight flourishes atop the ride cymbal. Occasional roars demonstrated just how fun it was to be upon the StrangeForms stage. 

I took brief notes for the scarily brutal performance of Fall of Messiah, but they seemed so apt ill reproduce them here verbatim: “A voice so piercing a microphone is surplus to requirement. Sounds like This Will Destroy You thrown in a blender and turned up to 11.” That really says it all, I think. My next memory - of bands, not elephants - was of the hypnotically spacey, painstakingly crafted masterpieces that are Poly-Math songs at full tilt. Perhaps VASA, who I’m assured played before Poly-Math, were so jaw-droppingly awesome that they melted the part of my brain that makes memories, for a short period of time about as long as their set. Not to worry, Poly-Math were here to rescue my fragile constitution with warmly curated prog-rock. Bass and drums interlocked, jolting and grooving freely whilst a guitar funnelled through an expansive pedalboard turned neat riffs into spacey wails. The performance was mesmerising, as hands wandered along the guitar neck as if a man strolling along a boardwalk, only to find himself alone at the end, meeting the ocean in a frantic storm, in layers of rapturous guitar and pulsating beats. Take a standard prog song, put it through a washing machine on a spin cycle and you’ve got Poly-Math at their psychedelic best.

To continue the hypnosis, Gallops took to the stage. Technical issues were overlooked as a patient and jovial crowd took the time to ready themselves, using the respite to mentally prepare for the synth-driven, danceable anthems ahead. The wait was more than worth it. Such a carefully crafted sound pits layers of guitar against layers of synth, colliding in a maelstrom of warm noise so atmospheric and so colossal that it opened up a blackhole and sent them in a time warp back to the 80’s, picking up a few cues from synthpop along the way. Gallops make something like ‘tropical math-rock’, with drum pads crunching out over real drums, battled with and battered in the most rhythmic and danceable way. ‘Tropical’ is actually rather apt, as the smooth wash of electronic textures build and twist, the temperature rises and attendant bodies groove throughout the room; it’s not long before the breeze of a synth sound has spun in on itself and whipped up a tropical storm of electronica and massive guitar lines, warbling like the din of a cyclone. And with that, day one was over. The second half of this review will be written through much hazier recollections, as the Saturday night ambled on into the early hours and the Sunday left most feeling the distinct sting of tiredness. The double-espresso shot of noise everyone needed on the Sunday afternoon came in the form of the fearsome Irk. Post-hardcore mixed with mathy tropes, the guttural, raspy screams of the vocalist splattered out over the most tonally warped, gruesome sounding bass guitar I’ve ever heard. All in all, Irk brought warmth and colour to the pallid faces of the those hungover bodies that had dragged themselves down in time to hear it.

Ear-splitting kept to a minimum, the crowd picked themselves up for the contrastingly happy, upbeat sound of A-tota-so. Three musicians have never looked more in control of every note and drum stroke, as they intricately wound their way around tappy riffs and melodic bursts, before sinking into muddy noisy sections with equal control. Best snare drum sound of the festival goes to this set; what a piercing din was made, what a penetrating crunch from a batter head so tight the sticks pinged off it like a trampoline, atop which thrived a most gymnastic and dextrous display of drumming. Drums often proved more than a rhythmic backdrop for guitars to dance over at this festival, it’s only as much as you’d expect from thoughtful math-rock, but none did so more effectively than that of A-tota-so.

As a math-rock lover born in the flat, tediously homogenous farmlands of Lincolnshire, I used to find myself stranded away from festivals like this, lamenting the dearth of good bands in my area. Enter Bear Makes Ninja, Sleaford’s answer to the void left by the vocal driven math-pop-rockers of yesteryear. Think Tubelord at full ferocity, with harmonies abounding as a most bright and crisp guitar tone gives way to a most distorted one. All the while at the back of the stage, beefy drums were navigated with the most robotic, metronomic precision I have ever seen in such a noisy band, with pounding snare and cymbals laid down flawlessly. Not to mention this was done whilst the drummer simultaneously soared away with lustrous backing vocals. Stunning! Tackling parts this technical and channelling them into a fully structured song with three part harmonies and memorable hooks is a difficult task, but when they get it right, boy do BMN get it right. The ascending hallmark riff of 12345 (a favourite from our review of debut album Shenanagrams) was one of the most memorable parts of the weekend for me, and that is as high a compliment as I know how to give from a line-up so saturated with talent.

There were so many great bands on the Sunday that – although it’s too late for brevity – I’ll stick to my personal highlights. Taking to the floor, in the most literal sense, where Scotland’s finest post-rock, math-rock hybrid band, Dialects. With pedalboards this big and musicians using them as they wield guitars like proverbial axes – chopping and turning through the air with a dangerous energy – there was no room for math-rock this animated on such a stage. Standing at crowd level, guitars swelled with heart warming reverb, mind-melting tapping, frantic riffs filtered through delays and tones purpose-chosen; Dialects are an immense force on this scene, giving every ounce of energy to every song. Through the unique dynamic between the two guitars - one controlling and modulating the riff, one experimentally hacking at and bending strings - Dialects create cathartic songs to lose your mind, and all of your troubles, to. Just bring earplugs and watch out for the stray sway of a guitar neck whirling around (see below) as energetically as the riff it’s bringing to your ears.

Axes return to the stage was as fun a finale to the festival as anyone could have wished for. Remembering the intricacies of songs long since played live was a thoroughly entertaining process to watch; intimate and light-hearted, as cheery and spirited as the wonky riffs and jangling math-rock they willed themselves to construct. Thankfully, the audience had done their homework, urging in each new stab and stall to arise and break with head bobs of great precision. The band had a look of astonishment at the music their fingers were carving out of their fretboards. Twiddly, fast tempo riffs bobbled along over chunky bass rumbles, dipping in and out of different time signatures with formidable control and with a perfect balance between the two guitarists, wrestling with each other and both winning. A euphonic and emphatic finish to the weekend. Overall, my first time at StrangeForms did not disappoint. The music was incredible, of course, of this I could scarcely wish my expectations to have been passed, such was the brilliance of the line-up. But it was the atmosphere of the place I was thankful to have experienced. Here, there and everywhere people discussed the music and the musicians, the sets and the scene with voracious interest and excitement. Why is this scene so generous, warm, considerate and always the nexus of many an interesting conversation? Perhaps it is because many of the audience are in some way involved in the scene, creatively, artistically, from t-shirt designs to posters, PR and promotion, record labels, distros, videographers and writers – the passion is still somehow infectious in a crowd where everyone has already caught the bug. The joy of each head bang, of each pedal-tap induced wall of sound is lost on no-one; unique to this epicentre of musicians, artists and listeners is the feeling that everyone has taken time to totally immerse themselves in the scene. This noisy world is one of few where everyone is so friendly and familiar with everyone else, so buoyed in collective anticipation by a good line-up at the next of many events, from Bristol to Brighton, Leeds to London and beyond; there are no half-hearted math-rock lovers, and few are more passionate than Bad Owls about good music and good people.

Like every band that took to the stage, I’d like to heartily thank Stewart and Kerry and everyone else amongst the Bad Owls team for putting on such a great weekend of music! Words by Jonny Gleadell. Images by Tiago Morelli (http://feckingbahamas.com/author/tiago-morelli)

[thesinglesjukebox]

HALSEY - YOU SHOULD BE SAD

[5.60]

Please, no one tell Halsey where Jukebox HQ is...

Kayla Beardslee: Halsey does not have enough to say. Well, correction -- it sounds like she doesn't have enough to say. Maybe working with another songwriter or two (the only ones credited are her and producer Greg Kurstin) might have helped coax out some more vulnerable, detailed lines, but as-is this song is desperately lacking in material, both musical and lyrical. "I wanna start this out by saying/I've gotta get it off my chest": as a well-known singer-songwriter, that's your opening line? Egregious filler? The only lines with narrative value in the first verse are "Got no anger, got no malice/Just a little bit of regret," and I don't even believe them -- this is an intensely petty song, and there is no pettiness without a bit of lingering anger. She then repeats "I'm gonna start this out by saying" in the (very short) second verse: the song has started, Halsey, and you're clearly treading water to make it to the chorus. Even the bridge, typically the best point to add new meaning to a song, is wordless. "You Should Be Sad" is just a prechorus and chorus, and as for the actual material in those parts, well, it's okay. Halsey tries to characterize the guy as selfish and cold through admittedly catchy abstractions ("you're not half the man you think that you are") and tropes ("money, girls, and cars"), but her focus on all the things she tried to do for him, rather than his specific transgressions -- like cheating, which is never mentioned in the song -- makes "Sad" feel more like gratuitous punching down. And Halsey can do pissed-off: "3AM" is a highlight from Manic, and I've learned to love "Nightmare." The problem with the lyrical pettiness here is that it's supported by an underwhelming chorus and a guitar riff so limp it needs medication. I have a lot of respect for Greg Kurstin as a synthpop producer, but between this and the loud-but-flat "GIRL," I have little faith in his work with country. Halsey cited "Before He Cheats" as an inspiration for the "Sad" music video, but can you imagine Carrie Underwood singing about keying her ex's car over a track this empty? Angry, loud Halsey and completely stripped, confessional Halsey convince because those versions of her feel raw and believable and don't rely on nuance. When she dials it back to this awkward midpoint on "You Should Be Sad," the finesse just isn't there. [4]

Nortey Dowuona: Halsey has slowly become a better artist over the last few years she's been on top, and this sandcastle of shape-shifting acoustic guitar and windy soft pedal vocals, with lurching, loping drums pulling the mix ahead, stands as tribute to that -- not just that it fits Halsey's shimmering croon, it also swirls blunt observations ("I tried to help you, it just made you maaadd") and pointed ones ("I'm so glad that I never had a baby with you, cause you can't love something unless there's something in it for you") into a rising glass tower, studded with river stones. [7]

Tim de Reuse: Deconstructed 21st-century country, riding entirely on the strain of Halsey's overproduced vocal harmonies. There's something in the directness of "I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you," but between the bombastic swells of strings and effects and her every-syllable-deserves-emphasis delivery, none of it has any room to breathe. [4]

Brad Shoup: It's country the way Avicii pictured it, with one major innovation: those sheets of guitar, shaking with rage. Country tends to mask its rage as sorrow, but here Halsey and Kurstin give the arrangement as much punch as the line "I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you." [6]

Alex Clifton: "I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you/cos you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you" is such a beautifully vindictive line, up there with "I hope you meet someone your height/so you can see eye to eye/with someone as small as you." "You Should Be Sad" is by far one of the more surprising and successful sonic experiments on Halsey's third album, feeling simultaneously understated like a good country song and anthemic like a Sia number. Manic is the closest I've ever come to understanding the appeal of Halsey, in part because she's not hiding under layers of storytelling and persona -- this is far more raw emotionally than she's written previously, and I'd argue it's more daring than creating an elaborate Romeo and Juliet album-long retelling. I've not been one for persona!Halsey, but if this is the music she releases from now on, I'll gladly become a fan. [8]

Isabel Cole: There's an interesting tension between the music's gentle, mournful prettiness and the ugliness of the story depicted, a tension echoed in the lyrics: the way she announces she harbors no anger nor malice before tearing into a devastating takedown. (That line about the baby is deliciously spiteful.) Halsey's performance also embodies this split, sometimes crooning efficiently alongside the melody's delicate turns, sometimes snarling with such spite you can almost see the spit; the creak in her voice sounds by turns sweet and bitter. [7]

Michael Hong: Perhaps there's no song quite as affecting on Manic as "More," a lament to the child Halsey never had and to the one she hopes to have one day. Then, retrospectively, "I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you" becomes all the more scathing, especially from a woman who once told Rolling Stone, "I want to be a mom more than I want to be a pop star." The rest of the track doesn't cut anywhere as deep as that line, sounding petty and lost rather than biting. Halsey's jump from alternative to pop to country makes "You Should Be Sad" sound like a lost A Star is Born-cut and equally as performative. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: Does the acoustic guitar indicate that this is her Lady Gaga-circa-Joanne bid for "serious artist" cred? I appreciate the nastiness of this, at least, and that brief little explosive note that leads off each chorus. [5]

Ryo Miyauchi: Words say one thing over laid-back faux-country, but Halsey's performance suggests the very opposite, and "You Should Be Sad" sounds like a bomb waiting to go off because of it. Staying with generalities feels like a favor to not rock the waters, and the rare moment she does lay out the specifics, it sounds aggressively personal. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: So boring, emotionless, and bland, it's hardly worth finding specific traits to complain about. [2]

Alfred Soto: With Greg Kurstin digging the hook into listeners' necks, it's impossible to dismiss the craft of "You Should Be Sad," nor would I want to. Halsey, like so many predecessors male and female, revels in her malice as if she had to endure the terrible relationship for the sake of writing well about its demise. Her best single since "Strangers." [7]

Vikram Joseph: Whenever I hear Halsey I just think of the time when someone quote-replied to a tweet (from a Lana stan account, naturally) saying "Without Lana there would be no Halsey, Melanie Martinez, Billie Eilish or Lorde" with "You mean to say we could have avoided Halsey?" Cruel, but more memorable than a Halsey song. [4]

Maxwell Cavaseno: At some point last year, some net teen in my feed called Maren Morris "an even worse Halsey" and I proceeded to kiss my teeth and remind myself that as I've grown up, cyberbullying brats off the timeline is unbecoming to my zen lifestyle. Nevertheless, there is some unintentional synergy here given that Morris's frequent collaborator in Greg Kurstin helps make the lesser of two evils to that random geek hit the nail on the head. "You Should Be Sad" is maybe one of my least favorite of the singles off Manic thus far; it does the most light-hefting lyrically and the vocal performances feel the most stitched together. It ends up reminding me of Post Malone's "Broken Whiskey Glass," where you have Hex-era Earth-style doom spaghetti western guitar screaming raw power at you while the subject is more interested in conveying indignation and contempt than a emotion that suits the tension it hopes to convey. Thankfully there's other and better Halsey singles that do this without trying to get all Red Dead Redemption on you. [6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Halsey's voice has a tone well-suited for this balance between verge-of-tears introspection and fist-clenched perseverance. The songwriting and production bolster her pain and redemption in equal measure: the steady, mid-tempo beat grounds her emotions so the screeching guitars can simultaneously vindicate, provide solace, express rage. You can register all those feelings in Halsey's delivery of the titular line, and you can sense how strong she is underneath the composure. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: It's a nice enough acoustic take on the melody of "Let's Talk About Sex." I hope that's conciliatory enough to not get accidentally wished 9/11 upon again. [6]

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