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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 years

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Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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collectivefandomstuff · 3 years

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Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

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ash-rabbit · 3 years

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An Autopsy: Mag200 Last Words

I will preface this by saying that, one (1) this is my opinion, and that I am at best ambivalent towards Martin and Jmart. And that this influenced the emotional impact of the episode for me, and likely many other viewers.

Additionally, I don't have a transcript open so we're going off memory. And spoilers below, obviously.

I. Everything that I wanted to see

1. Jonah

I'm very glad he showed back up and was coherent. That was definitely a highlight since bastard he may be, but he's my favourite.

I would have liked to hear him monologue or give a statement, but I don't mind Jon cutting things short. It's deserved, and I'm sure Jon was sick to death of Magnus' voice anyway.

I really liked how his last words were so very scared and vulnerable. "I don't want to die." and then Jon's retort of "Neither did they" before going through with it was excellent.

Being the vessel for the eye being like a wonderful dream was also very good, because I can only imagine that it would be similar to Jon's nightmare walking for someone who actually enjoys the suffering of others.

Something that was odd was that I could swear that it contradicts 193, where Jonah was referred to as nothing but a husk when serving as the eyes conduit. I had thought that meant his sense of self had been eradicated and he was nothing but his eyes for all intents and purposes. Clearly not. So I suppose all those fics where Elias survives and is aware of everything after Jonah gets gouged out of his skull are still plausible, seeing as Jonah still remained, even after being crushed beneath the weight of his eldritch patron.

2. Jon doing his own thing

I said this after 198 and 199, but I though the Web's plan was dumb, and everyone completely misunderstood the Trolley Problem, because just like the average Tumblr user, the Archival assistants are illiterate. But I suppose that happens when you have two influencers, a cop, and a high school drop out debate ethics. I'm just saying Tim with his anthropology degree would have called bullshit on their moralizing, he might not have disagreed with that plan of action, but he wouldn't have tried to justify it.

3. Jon going through with the 193 plan

Technically a merger of point 1 and 2, but it had Jon having a completely decent plan for once. It worked for the most part, it was cathartic and wholly satisfying to watch for him as a character.

As stated in 193 the conduit position is meant for him, so he doesn't suffer any ill effects outside of becoming a bird in a gilded cage, but he already spent the series as that. And it wasn't as if Jon hadn't been acting as a conduit with the constant statement taking anyway.

3.b a late addition to this but why does Jon need to keep taking statements?? It feels entirely superfluous in a fear saturated landscape, unless it was the Eye really wanting that Archivist pupil.

II. What Didn't Hit, or the Deflated Souffle

1. Jon and Martin

Hinging the emotional weight of a finale on a couple doesn't work if you don't have any feelings invested in the couple. I didn't care for Martin from the moment we were introduced to him in Season 1, and my interest to become invested in Martin was ignited and subsequently extinguished within Season 4. I find Martin hypocritical and self righteous and it's a bad mix for me personally. I didn't like his character trajectory over Season 5, so Jmart did nothing for me across the Season.

The misquote of LotR also just doesn't do it for me. It's sort of romanticizing the whole Romeo + Juliet thing, which is always not good. I think being unable to live for Jon undercuts any growth Martin could have gone through since in season 4 he was running a suicide gambit, and I think if he had been able to live as a person at the end of it, he would have come out a stronger character.

2. The Knife in the Gut

So Jon went through with his actually good plan, and Martin acts like its the worst possible thing. Jon is mostly himself, more himself then across Season 5 for the most part actually. But it's treated like the worst betrayal, and then Martin has the gall to go "we expected this so we're burning the Archives at this very second"

Like okay?? You're mad he went behind his back, even though everything previously stated had your plan set up to fail from the get go. It just made me irritated at Martin for being short sighted.

Worse then that was how quickly Jon caved to Martin and saying fine kill me and go through with your plan. And then Martin did it. They condemned countless dimensions because when Martin show sup and say anything contrary to Jon, Jon's spine disappears. It defeated the purpose of Jon going behind their backs in the first place. Though I'm glad Martin wasn't there when Jon spoke to Jonah.

I think the damnation of countless realities should have been framed as a tragedy, and not as the heroic thing. So I guess it's just fridge horror now. The framing just, it really doesn't work for me here, I was horrified by the moral ramifications and how it's the one thing Jon didn't want to do, to have more people face the same horrors he had.

3. The Archives are Burning: One of the Best Paying Academic Institute's is in flames.

So Jon was called the Archive by Jonah, and it never felt like that meant anything. We don't know if the burning Archive affecting Jon was because he's the Archive or if it's because burning knowledge hurts him as burning Gerry's page did.

Also I'm just against the burning of centuries of knowledge in general, that was probably the part of the episode that hurt. Cursed or not, the Magnus Institute seems to have incredibly pay for a research institute of all things, I mean a flat in London and it can pay for a care home? I know biology researchers who make around minimum wage at best. I'm just saying, I would work there despite everything the series has laid out.

4. The Girls Started a Fire

I don't mind that they survived, but they blew up a gasline?? And survived, no Helen to save them, but they survived.

It's weird.

5. Back to Business as Usual

So they ejected all the fears into other universes and everything is back to normal. But I have questions!! How are people's state of mind?? Are some people catatonic from constantly experiencing constant fear? The Admiral is fine which is great but, there's so much mental scarring that even with a fix it band aid slapped on, the whole population is mentally fractured at best. I don't have the words to elucidate, but it bothers me.

In Sum

The finale didn't hurt me. Which in and of itself hurts. I signed up for a tragedy/horror, and it felt like the romance shift undercut a lot of character growth and impact. But that's because I don't like who Jon and Martin are when they're together, and that's a normal thing to fell around new/codependent couples.

I was hoping for something that was soul crushing for the characters, but death isn't really the worst fate, and I suppose it's grim if only because they made the selfish choice. Which is weird, for Jon at least, he stopped making selfish choices after Season 2 for the most part and was punished every time he did something that was necessary for his continued survival in Season 4. I have thoughts on the statement dependency being a food thing more then an addiction thing but I'm ending it here.

The series is good, but I'll probably just relisten to S1-4 only, I don't care for romance or apocalypse settings, and 160 is a good stopping point if you want a soft tragedy of sorts.

#Mag 200 #the magnus archives #tma #mag 200 last words

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violet-witch-6 · 4 years

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Don’t Bother

Read on AO3

Last night was nothing short of a nightmare, but Tim had come when Dick called, and everyone had made it out alive. After that, it was only logical that Tim spend the night at the Manor, so nobody bothered to question it. Even Damian kept his complaints to quiet grumbling.

Now though, the Manor’s kitchen is awash with the grey light of predawn, and Tim just wants a cup of coffee before he performs his own personal walk of shame, and hopes to whatever deity is out there that he won’t have reason to return for another good few months.

The universe has never been that kind to any of them though.

“Tim, I think we should talk.”

It was always a risk that someone would catch him before he could make it out, but that doesn’t stop the deep sense of fatigue that creeps in Tim’s bones as Dick positions himself in the doorway, blocking Tim’s exit.

For a long time, the droning of the coffee maker is the only sound, it’s muted dripping stirring the still and silent air between the two brothers.

Tim just stares at Dick. Stares for so long that the pot fills, and the coffee maker shuts off. His expression is utterly emotionless as he finally slides his gaze away from Dick and turns to fill his waiting mug. His spine prickles with the weight of Dick's gaze, his instincts almost lazily reminding him not to turn his back on someone so dangerous, but Tim ignores them. His sense of self preservation has never been strong, but lately it's been more or less nonexistent anyway.

Only when his mug is filled to the brim and the pot returned to its resting place does Tim finally speak, his back still turned. “No, I don’t think we should.”

He lifts the mug to his lips and takes a long drink, savoring the scalding heat that burns his tongue and lights his throat on fire.

“Tim, please,” Dick tries again. Once upon a time, the desperation in his voice would have inspired Tim to move mountains. Now it doesn’t even get him to turn around. “I know that I handled things badly with Damian and Robin, but I can’t stand the rift that’s between us right now. I want to make things right.”

That pulls a snort from Tim, sharp and humorless. “Okay, then,” he says, and he can sense the shock radiating from Dick.

He finally turns around. His mug is cradled between two hands and held close to his face where the aroma of coffee can ground him, but it doesn’t hide the smile stretching wide and insincere across his gaunt features.

“I’ve only gone through this conversation in my head… oh, a thousand times now? Ten thousand?” He chuckles, and that too is humorless. “Point being, I can save you the trouble of stating your defense so early in the morning. I already know how this ends.”

Dick swallows. He looks afraid, which should scare Tim, and yet… “How’s that?” he asks, voice guarded and hoarse.

Tim shrugs. “Well, first I yell at you for a bit. Air all my grievances, point out every mistake you made, every bridge you burnt, every little way that you broke me.” He shapes his expression into something thoughtful. “I have to admit, that’s my favorite part. If I could still dredge up any of that anger, it might have even been cathartic.”

All pretense of mirth drops away. “But then you cry. Or, come close to it anyway. You tell me how you did the best you could, and how you didn’t know how badly I’d react to having my sanity questioned and losing the only sense of stability I’ve had since my parents died. You apologize profusely, but deep down we both know you wouldn’t really have done anything differently because even though I’m right, I guess our relationship was never really strong enough for you to have that kind of faith in me.

“There’s also probably something in there about how good Robin has been for Damian that’s supposed to make me feel guilty for hating him I suppose—and it would work, in so far as I would attempt to hate him more silently until the next time he tried to kill me. At this point you hold the sympathetic high ground because aren’t I such a selfish monster for being mean to a child and expecting support from a grieving man?” Tim snorts, the sound just as jarringly ugly as it was the first time.

Dick looks like he would have preferred Tim hit him, but Tim isn’t done yet.

“So I’d forgive you. Of course I would. I would concede your excuses as valid, and my own reactions as melodramatic, because even after everything, I wouldn’t be able to stand your tears.” Tim knows this about himself, but seeing the gutted expression on Dick’s face now does nothing to him. Stirs nothing. He feels as blank as he has all morning. “And it’d be over. You’d hug me, say something incredibly mushy about how glad you are that everything’s all better now, and I would bite my tongue until my mouth filled with blood to stop myself from telling you that we aren’t fine. That I don’t even know how to find fine. That telling you my feelings are resolved because of one nice little chat isn’t even a believable lie to anyone but the deluded who care more about assuaging their own guilt than actually making things better.”

Tim takes a long sip of his coffee and lets himself pretend for a moment that the burn is a feeling other than exhaustion. Any feeling.

Dick is staring at him with wide, pained eyes.

“Sound about right?” Tim prompts, but Dick is utterly speechless. Tim nods, swift and decisive. “Thought so. Well, since we’re in agreement, why don’t we skip the whole thing, yeah? My yelling would wake up the whole Manor, and we’d both rather avoid me interacting with Damian again before I go, so it’s much simpler if we both act as if the conversation I just laid out was actually had. You can consider our relationship fixed, and my grudge against you dissolved, brother.” Dick flinches at the word, but Tim barely even notices.

He tosses back the rest of his coffee and places the mug in the sink. When he turns back, Dick is clinging to one side of the door frame as if it’s the only thing holding him up.

Tim’s lips curl upward, and he spreads his arms wide. “How ‘bout it? Reconciliatory hug before I go?”

All he gets is a horrified look.

He hums, letting his arms drop. “Can't say I'm surprised. See you next time the world ends then.”

Dick recoils away from him as he passes, and doesn’t say a single word until Tim’s a good few feet into the hallway, and neither of them is facing the other. Perhaps its because of that that Dick finally says, “What happened to you?”

Tim slows to a standstill. There are so many possible answers to that, that he doesn’t even know where to start, so he just says, “I lost Robin.”

The costume, the mantle, and the boy who wore it. Tim lost them all, and this is what’s left.

He leaves before Dick can think of a response.

#red robin #tim drake #angst #hurt no comfort #Dick Grayson #tim is so done

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thezolblade · 4 years

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with all the talk about fandom squicks and triggers and social media content-curation going on, i’m gonna try and get down my tma squicks, to - help organise my thoughts on what i still do & don’t enjoy - help connect with anyone who wants to talk about the things that are common interests without hitting on a squick accidentally (bc i’m feeling like trying to dip my toe in the water of fandom means walking on eggshells in that respect). - behind a read more, avoid the negativity if you like. there’s nothing beyond pg-13 meta though.

tma squicks

- the apocalypse. y’know how people can feel ‘what’s the point?’ about a pyrrhic victory? this isn’t even that. it’s a total defeat. rocks fall everyone dies, or suffers a fate worse than death. all the billions of people in the world, all the children and babies, suffering so thoroughly they don’t even get to function as people anymore, just living ghosts. except a few characters who are still wandering around for now, but we already know from word of god that they’re not going to get a happy ending or accomplish anything. the previous seasons were already horror, but this... feels a lot more pointless and flattens the world they built. i’m curious enough to keep listening, but with less investment i guess.

- ‘fluff’ set in parts of the timeline when the some of characters are hurting people, and other characters are not okay with that, but the ‘fluff’ has them act as if they don’t actually care. (not fix-it fic that actually fixes the problem. not fluff set in au’s where the problem doesn’t apply. not evil characters being ok with being evil together. i’m just talking about stuff that’s specified as canon-compliant, where the characters don’t seem to give a damn, even though they do in canon itself.) e.g. late s4 stuff where rather than commiserating, recuperating and trying to plan out how to deal with their problems, jon and martin are just... happy for jon to keep haunting his current victims so long as he doesn’t add to their number, and have no plans to go back to london to deal with things once it’s safe enough, despite asking basira when that’d be possible in 160. or s4 peter/martin where martin’s ok with peter murdering people, likes him as a person anyway, rather than lying about it.

- s1/2 (or anytime) jon being depicted as someone who doesn’t care about people, rather than as someone who cares deeply for people’s safety even while getting into arguments easily.

- s1/2 (or anytime) martin being depicted as scared of jon, rather than just frustrated that he can’t impress him or convince him to take better care of himself & get along better with the others.

- the way the tragedy of everything that’s gone wrong supernaturally - the deaths, the apocalypse - feels like the villain getting away with everything because the odds were always stacked overwhelmingly in his favour, not the protagonist seeing the consequences of his tragic flaws. because jon’s made mistakes, and hurt the people around him, but... if he hadn’t made those mistakes, that wouldn’t in and of itself have been enough to avert jonah’s plans. jonah just needed to arrange for avatars to attack jon until he’d been terrorised by everything, while jon was unable to escape. and even if jon had left by blinding himself, jonah would’ve burned through as many archivists as it took. (158 was the only time anyone had a chance of stopping him, and martin only refused bc he didn’t know what was going on and didn’t want to cooperate with evil. that’s... not so much of a flaw that the apocalypse is cathartic as his tragic comeuppance either.)

- jonah, considering all of the above. just. jonah.

- the other pure evil characters most of the time, tbh.

- the uncertainty of not knowing how much of daisy’s past police brutality basira turned a blind eye to, bc the more she knew, the worse her preference for the old daisy & double standard with jon’s hunting.

- jon’s hunting, for that matter. that’s on the list. and the fact that jess is probably in the buried now, forever. (if not there, then somewhere just as awful.)

- interpretations where early-s4 jon completely knew what he was doing, rather than genuinely deceiving himself until he read annabelle’s statement, though a mix of denial, the excuses he’d convinced himself of (which tied into following gertrude’s example to save the world, knowing she’d hurt people too), and the fact he was coerced by an entity in a way that he hadn’t felt before (it was the eye, not the web, and even heavy coercion isn’t the same as being completely forced, but it’s sure not the same as choosing freely either).

- s3 jon/tim where tim doesn’t acknowledge that jon was factually right about some of the things he was afraid of s2, alongside jon acknowledging his own mistakes. otherwise tim’s s2-3 attitude is too much ‘i hate you for being wrong, i hate you for being right, i hate you for being genuinely scared of me, and i hate you for trying to rebuild this bridge now you’re not scared of me anymore’.

- the idea of s1 jon/tim, considering tim was being all false-cheerful and mildly sarcastic with the ‘boss’ nickname while really thinking he shouldn’t have gotten the job. all while jon sincerely valued tim’s opinion as an academic. sure, tim was right to look down on jon’s abilities, but that situation makes me wince. a fluffy ship needs more respect, a dark ship needs less goodwill, a slowburn needs the characters to move past that kind of thing somehow.

...all in what, what that leaves as content that’s not squicky, that i still enjoy:

- Total AU’s, where any ship can be set up in ways that avoid the elements above.

- Pre-apocalypse canon-divergent fic - happy or sad ending for the characters involved, so long as the world doesn’t end for everyone.

- Time travel fix it (in a crackfic way).

- Early-seasons gen/humour/character study canon-compliant fic.

- Cracky humour fic.

#tma thoughts #the magnus archives

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happymetalgirl · 4 years

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As I Lay Dying - Shaped by Fire

Whatever this album ended up sounding like, it was never going to be an easy one to talk about, and when the band released their sixth studio LP in 2012, I would never have anticipated its follow-up to be one of its year’s most controversial albums.

I’m sure most reading this already know the horrible history between 2012 and this album: lead vocalist Tim Lambesis soliciting an undercover cop who he was led to believe was a hitman to murder his estranged wife. Lambesis was of course arrested, charged with attempted solicitation to commit murder, and eventually plead guilty after putting up a meager fight for under a year with the flimsy defense of the adverse effects of his ongoing steroid use driving him to do something so psychotic and abhorrent. At some point before his incarceration, Lambesis released a candid apology video in which he explained what had happened, his sentencing, and his shameful acceptance of the consequences, sans excuses for himself. He was originally supposed to be imprisoned until 2020, but was released on parole in late 2016, about which he was quiet, but of course word got out, and immediately speculation began to swirl about whether the fractured (if not shattered) As I Lay Dying would reunite, which essentially all parties shut down at any initial inquiry, with multiple relationships between band members already soured before the hiatus aside from their shared contempt for Lambesis since his imprisonment. Seemingly miraculously though, here we are with a seventh As I Lay Dying album that, just two years ago, was never supposed to exist.

This album was always going to be shaped by and responsible for justifying its existence within the context of everything that happened before it, and the astonishingly reunited band knew that when they released the song “My Own Grave” last year, whose lyrics read of upfront humbled acceptance of responsibility, obviously from Lambesis’ point of view.

Since that song’s release and the realizing possibility that the band might actually release an album, discussion surrounding the justification of it erupted within and around the band’s fan base, with most fans supportive of Lambesis’ efforts to make things right and forgivingly welcoming his and the band’s return, while many others remained skeptical of Lambesis’ and his bandmates’ sincerity, if not outright unforgiving of all involved. And since the album’s release, there still really isn’t any consensus or development on that front, and it makes sense.

My feelings on the whole thing are a bit of both honestly. I understand Lambesis wanting to move on from what he did as well as make up for what he did in a way he knows how, and the idealist in me wants this to play out well and redeem such a terrible act as much as it possible can be. I do agree with the sentiment that many fans have echoed that he shouldn’t be treated like someone who hasn’t served time and began to redeem his heinous actions, essentially as a prisoner still and undeserving of finding his way in society again despite being released. But I simultaneously completely understand those still skeptical of him and the band based on their pasts and those who feel like he still has a lot to do to make things fully right again. I agree, he’s far from done yet. But I don’t think that disqualifies him from making the kind of art he knows how to make about his circumstances, especially if he is going to sincerely use it to make positive redemptive effects. Essentially, I don’t think Tim Lambesis is fully redeemed by what he’s done yet, including this album. I don’t think that means he’s not allowed to have made this album (or shouldn’t have), but I’m saying that it’s still not over for him or As I Lay Dying. If he is indeed sincere about everything he has come out and said since his release from prison, I would think he would agree that he still has a lot to do before the more skeptical side of the community starts to trust him again (which he has also said he understands). If the band’s accounts are to be believed, Lambesis’ acceptance back into their lives didn’t happen overnight, and the rest of his story within the metal community is definitely the kind of thing that only more time will reveal to be redemptive or ill-fated. For now, all we can do is assess this early snapshot of the whole situation in this album.

Anyone expecting Shaped by Fire to shatter the As I Lay Dying mould lyrically or musically to fit the newly solemn context surrounding it will not find such adjustment. The band are clearly aware of the album’s context and the music shows how conscious they were to approach it in a way that materialized a project that addressed the things they needed to while still being the kind of album the band’s fans could connect to (and not just an album for the band themselves). And at this I think the band did a mostly pretty admirable job. Stylistically Shaped by Fire picks up right where As I Lay Dying left off in 2012, making some of the most muscular and moving NWOAHM metalcore during and after the movement’s peak of relevance. I mentioned the song “My Own Grave” earlier, the band’s unlikely triumphant return from all that had happened. And musically the song fits that triumphant return and serves as a fine representation of the album as a whole as well, with hard-hitting, thrashing metalcore from start to finish with no room for dropping slack, and bassist Josh Gilbert’s empowering clean vocal melody about accepting guilt and humility cutting through straight to the heart of it all.

Through nearly identical stylistic methods, the still incredibly powerful subsequent single “Redfined” captures a sentiment similar to what was expressed on “My Own Grave”, one of fierce determination to undo one’s wrongs and flaws and recreate one’s self in to become a more positive part of the world, something obviously applicable to Lambesis, but certainly not just him as no one is too perfect for self reflection and improvement.

Lambesis expresses his gratitude for his facing the consequences for his actions most candidly on the wonderfully tremolo-picking-infused “Only After We’ve Fallen”, on which he says “My deceit was displayed for all to see / The only thing that could have saved me”

Gilbert’s clean vocal melodies shine again on the track “Undertow”, whose breakdown is similarly inspiring and heartfelt, and again his pairing with Lambesis takes the band’s signature thrashy melodic metalcore to emotive heights on the appreciative and crushing “The Wreckage” on which the band express their appreciation for their rebuilding from the ruins of the past several years.

The song “Blinded” finds Lambesis trying to convey his mindset surrounding his previous actions, though I think just a little bit too romanticized lyrically, which the assurances of trying to change do thankfully counter. Gilbert’s clean melodies, especially as he reaches high in his range near the end stand out as the song’s driving force of heartfelt repentance, and the vocal performance is so powerful I’m even reminded of Spencer Sotello’s impressive performances on Periphery’s latest album.

Lambesis gets aggressive over some heavy, aerobic, Austrian Death Machine-style thrash without the assistance of Gilbert’s cleans on “Gatekeeper”, one which he (seemingly) understandably lashes out at those hard-heartedly unwilling to forgive him and actively trying to keep him out of music. He doesn’t say it’s explicitly about his situation; he’s as open-ended here as he is on all the other songs applicable to other’s situations but clearly inspired by his experiences, and again I understand the frustration at those determined to hinder what he seees as his path to making things right, but this song effectively burns those bridges between him and people who might well just need a lot of time for their hearts to be softened. Lambesis though does counterbalance this song’s raw frustration with a declaration of commitment on the closing track, “The Toll It Takes”, to doing everything possible to help heal the hurt he caused knowing full well that his true sentence extends beyond his prison time and that there are things he cannot undo.

While certainly not offensively lazy lyrically or musically, the title track is an example of the album at its most rarely formulaic, with the band embodying the good-cop-bad-cop trope of the genre in a less emotive manner that pales in creative comparison to tracks like “Redefined”, “My Own Grave”, and even “Blinded”. It’s just more familiar and rule-following metalcore than the band’s more vulnerable and powerful moments. Most of the album, to the contrary, steeped in the band’s clearly cathartic redemption arc, is brimming with the kind of crushing, open-hearted metalcore that the band crystallized on 2010’s The Powerless Rise, and to an even greater degree as the band’s gratitude for their resurrection is quite tangible from track to track.

For all the controversy and tension surrounding this album, Shaped by Fire followed beneficially the path laid out by its preliminary singles to serve as the right kind of album As I Lay Dying needed to make, given the circumstances. Tim Lambesis clearly understands his responsibility to continue serving in ways to make up for what he did, and his raw emotional vulnerability across the album as a result of his already being humiliated by his actions shows indeed a portrait of a man determined to go the long haul and right his wrongs after losing everything and grateful for what he’s been given back so far. Even his more aggravated expressions like “Gatekeeper” that might be interpreted cynically as undue complaining about justified skepticism and criticism towards him are important to the truthful and tangible picture of human imperfection (at it most humbled in his case) Lambesis is conveying through his lyrics. He clearly understands he has a lot to do still, and a big part of this album is expressing his understanding of what the traumatic past means for his present and future. He and his bandmates are clearly aware that they will face backlash, they know that they are very blessed to have received the support they have, and they know it is still a long road ahead.

Musically, the band sound as if they never stopped playing together and even knew to temper the clean melodies of Awakened to the more optimal balance of thrashy metalcore aggression and powerful soaring choruses on The Powerless Rise, and the tough context surrounding it makes Shaped by Fire one of the band’s most cathartic albums to date.

The support the band has received has indeed been tremendous and certainly helpful, and I imagine some might look at their sold-out tours and think it unjust that the band receive such a magnitude of support at this stage and worry they might interpret the forgiveness of their devoted fans as complete redemption. I certainly understand that concern and I hope that the band don’t settle for just the approval of those who are glad As I Lay Dying is back together and instead continue to strive to make a positive impact with their music and their service to their communities. If this album is truly indicative of their shared emotional state and their mission, I think they will stay on the right path.

Redefining/10

#As I Lay Dying #Shaped by Fire #metalcore #metal #heavy metal #new music #new album #album review

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vincent-marie · 6 years

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So... Can I talk about Tim Burton for a few minutes?

I was recently thinking about how a lot of filmmakers, particularly the likes of Zack Snyder, seem to have these really cynical, defeatist attitudes, and yet despite the absence of happy endings, audiences apparently eat that shit up with how much of a profit it turns out.

At first I just kind of shrug my shoulders and say, "Who am I to judge? I've been a die-hard Tim Burton fan for years."

But actually thinking about it, even I am way off. Most, if not all of, Snyder's work is just nonstop misery and cynicism, giving off this idea that there's no point to being a hero or doing good things unless it benefits you. I'll spare you the anger-fueled lecture about how objectivism is a bullshit philosophy for already-selfish assholes, but what always bothered me is that there's no point to the cynicism and misery in his movies.

And that brings me back to Tim Burton. Yes, the guy's movies are popular with gloomy, mopey teenagers and some adults in the Goth community, but his movies, the good ones, aren't all the gloom-fests folks usually write them off as.

"Pee Wee's Big Adventure" I don't need to tell you is just fun and weird. In fact, it's goofy and upbeat, and it's all about Pee Wee going on this strangely epic journey to retrieve his stolen bicycle. I've never been a big fan of Pee Wee Herman, but even I enjoy this movie to the point that I'll probably watch it if it's on TV.

"Beetlejuice" is dark, but it's not really that depressing. It's a dark comedy about how the afterlife isn't all it's cracked up to be, and while it does have a character who contemplates suicide, the ghosts in the film talk her down by telling her, "Being dead doesn't make things any easier."

"Batman" is kind of its own thing as it was more of a studio commission rather than a pet project of any kind, but over all it was fun and ended on a rather triumphant note. Might not hold up as well as we think, but it got folks outside of comic fans to take Batman seriously (for a while.)

"Edward Scissorhands" has a sad ending, yes, but in a way that's cathartic and tragic and in a way that feels earned. It was an homage to classic "Frankenstein" movies, there's a good quirky sense of humor about suburban life, and it's coated with a good layer of whimsy that makes it less emotionally draining and more like a fairy tale. In fact, when you're a teenager struggling with mental illness and social anxiety like I was, Edward's situation of wanting to experience love but too afraid to get close to people for fear of hurting them is really relatable at that age. And while a lot of us wished Edward and Kim could've had a happy ending, I always took it as at least Edward got to experience that sense of belonging for a short while.

(Also, see Lindsay Ellis’s video on "The Shape of Water” and why we love Beauty and the Beast tropes.)

"Batman Returns" is the only one that kind of fits people's perception of "Tim Burton: Master of Gloom". Catwoman's story basically begins in tragedy and ends in tragedy, and that does suck because she was a cool character. (She was even supposed to get her own spin-off movie in which she rose back up again as a hero, but that never happened.) And the less said about how unnecessarily gross the Penguin was, the better. Yet I still consider "Batman Returns" to be my favorite of the live-action Batman movies. It’s just so cartoonish and silly in some places while also having that whimsical darkness to it that, for me, is just pure indulgence. Plus it’s what got me interested in Batman altogether, so there’s that.

Then there's "Ed Wood". I've always considered it the best Tim Burton film hands-down because you don't need to be a fan to like it. There's the friendship between Ed Wood and Bela Legosi that's like the film's centerpiece, but at its core it's about a filmmaker who wants to do the thing he loves and he remains cheerful and optimistic in spite of the cynical world that is Hollywood. You might disagree with me since both the real Ed Wood and his movie counterpart never got to have the fame and recognition he would have liked in his lifetime, but I always found that very inspiring as an artist myself.

For me that's pretty much the cut-off date for when his movies were mostly good. From "Mars Attacks!" and onward they're pretty much hit-or-miss with most people and I don't have the brain-juice to go into all of them to the present day.

I will say that "Sweeney Todd" was my first big disappointment as it took the Stephen Sondheim musical and sucked out all the humor and levity that helped balance out the darker elements. Not quite worth the novelty of hearing Johnny Depp sing.

But my point stands. I've seen folks dismiss Tim Burton's works as just "porn for fourteen year old girls", and that always bugged me because that wasn't giving enough credit to a good handful of movies that were a positive influence on me. Since my high school years my fan devotion has waned a lot (especially after that stupid way he tried to excuse himself for not casting more actors of color), but the likes of "Edward Scissorhands", "Ed Wood", and even "Batman Returns" were what helped inspire me to want to pursue art and animation.

#tim burton #long post #ed wood #edward scissorhands

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mikemightwritesometimes · 4 years

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Cardiacs - Sing to God

“Stick and suck dribble in my dirty shoes / And crown me everything alive.”

If you’re like me right now, you’re probably in a bit of a funk. Quarantine got you down, probably feeling very lonely, maybe some shit didn’t go your way. Sometimes, that unrelenting grasp of negativity can consume everything you do. It infects your entire way of thinking - the entire way you go about your day. There’s something to be said for just how powerful it can be. It can coat your entire body from head to toe.

There’s none of that in the world of Tim Smith and the Cardiacs.

Or at least, if there is, it’s masterfully disguised.

I’m not going to start this like I started the Daughters write-up, I’m not extremely well versed in the Cardiacs’ immense catalog. I’ve dipped my toes into other albums and other songs. There are some I absolutely love: the “Fairy Tales from the Rotten Shed” sessions are impeccably tight, incredibly hard-hitting, catchy, and complex. Some of the best live rock I’ve heard in a long, long time. Along with that, their material around the release of diehard fan-favorite “The Seaside” is impeccable, and this video of the track “R.E.S” cemented the track as one of my favorites in their catalog. They’ve been covered by everyone alive. Damon Albarn of Blur and Gorillaz, Mike Patton of Faith No More and Mr. Bungle (I’ll get to you, “California,”), Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree, and Radiohead all cite them as influences. Hell, their fantastic “Seaside” track “To Go Off and Things” was covered by none other than Napalm Death. Even complete with Cardiacs-esque bells chiming in towards the beginning of the track. There’s something to be said about the absolute magic of Tim Smith’s music that draws you in and - once it fully has you - ceases to ever let up. No other music will ever hit that same spot for you again. Yet, even compared to all the previously mentioned superb material, no other record in their entire catalog - or in the history of recorded music - captures the essence of the insanely unique, pure, raw fun like “Sing to God.”

Sing to God is every beautifully strange, hyper-pitched and lightning speed moment Tim Smith has ever written in microcosm. It is a record which forbids any and all from coming into it with sour attitudes - for these people were doomed to never have any fun from the start. Across its wondrous two discs are annihilating ear-worms, off-key circus arpeggios, beautiful instrumental work, and cryptically cathartic lyrics. This is one that rarely lets you get too long in its track listing without reminding you why it’s the only album of it’s kind. And it starts from the first track.

“Eden on the Air” is sort of a misleading opening - in a sense. It’s absolutely not misleading when the chorus of pitch-shifted vocals back up Tim over a layer of sparkle and Disney-esque sheen, as this captures the demented magic that lies in store. Yet it may be misleading in the way that fails to inform the listener of the mountain of switch-ups and technically dynamic music in store. Instead, it opts for a relaxed, catchy chorus of vocals singing in harmony. As the track ends, the background noise begins to fade away, and the few seconds you have can only prepare you so much.

CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

With four counts on the drumsticks, “Eat It Up Worms Hero” sends you flying backwards into the wall, leaving glorious indentations in what you thought was a solid foundation. It’s best listened to with headphones turned to max. The chugging, uncommonly timed riffs find just enough time to burrow themselves into your brain before a few suddenly left turns punctuated by a burgeoning bassline and synth lines that came from another galaxy. It’d be impossible to try to name every switch-up in a Cardiacs track such as this, so I’ll only focus on my absolute favorite. Right on the mark of 1:01, more hell breaks loose than the even comparable amounts of hell that has broken loose before it. And for 15 seconds, it sounds as though the band is playing the song with earplugs in and blindfolds on. It was absolutely mesmerizing the first time I heard it. It was strange, because, as a ~16 year old kid - I never realized total random jumbles of complete random noise and sound could be so calculated. It wasn’t until about a year later that I realized that the band succeeded in making those 15 seconds more catchy than so, so many other rock records. However, my favorite part of this switch-up is that when the song breaks back into a glorious, major-key sing-a-long fest, that incredibly dissonant yet ungodly earworm-ish arpeggiating synth that sounds like it’s programmed to climb up an endless wall is still there. And it’s the catchiest part of the track. Even when the Cardiacs are indulging in the pure, clean type of fun - there’s always the Tim Smith lurking black comedy in the back of your mind. It’s beautiful. After one long-held Tim Smith shout, the song completely breaks apart for all of ten seconds. Right after, with the suddenness of an out-of-control freight train, that incredibly energetic riff from the first few seconds kicks you in the head. It slowly fades out into a classic Cardiacs piano progression until the sounds of someone actually being kicked in the head end the track. The track is over. This was the second track.

“Fiery Gun Hand” is a personal favorite on the record, and showcases the band’s ability to not only play into the tropes of their genre that they so thoroughly subvert in other material - but master them as well. The dueling guitar riffs are dueling in the most literal sense of the word. They’re fighting for individual strum space, syncing up perfectly in each of the listener’s ears until all of a sudden, this incredibly catchy synth line leads the band into two-chord heaven. It’s powerful - it feels raw while being immensely thought out and produced. The kicker here is the bridge, where the band switches key with so much effort and grace to complete another earworm on a record that’s probably already had, like, 9 or 10. “ "Click. Run! / Hello sir / I am in a tango / in a different timing I will never lose my anger I / haven't got a secret / Secrets are in my secret box / down my avenue / Suck away my tiny dress / I'm cleaner than a filthy mess / Cleaner than a big mess!"

“Bellyeye” was a single from this record, and it’s easy to hear why. That groovy guitar riff that graces the beginning is immediately pleasurable to even the most hellbent of Cardiacs despisers. The refrain after the verses accentuates what truly lies at the heart of the record - immense catchiness layered over and over again on top of itself to the point where - to an uninitiated listener - it may even sound overbearing. The real winning moment here however comes at the end of the third verse, where Smith, backed up by some newfound horns, feels the soul in his chest while singing “Storm of feeling good fun / fuck my animal heart / and ache / And heart / and ache / Tiring now dishing out all my fancy almond ache / And arm and ache.” The song ends on an absolutely flabbergasting shift into what feels like less than half-time, swaggering itself out the door like the last man in a parade - who happens to be doing a conga dance.

If I kept writing about every song I loved off this record, this post would stretch for another three miles or so. So let me just talk about the crowned jewel of this album - the song that every Cardiacs fan will tell you absolutely blew them away the first time they heard it - the second disc’s opener: “Dirty Boy”

Dirty Boy feels to me like the logical conclusion of prog rock music. That’s an overused term to describe a lot of things - but it’s hard for me to reach into my brain for a song that truly encases the essence of prog and twists it to such a pulp. Dirty Boy is climbing a mountain that never stops growing in front of your eyes, but you’re simultaneously turning into a giant while you do. And, oh, by the way, a chorus of actual literal angels are cheering you on and joining you in shanties. Good lord this song. The opening guitar chord and the ensuing, absolutely, mind-destroyingly catchy riff that follows, would fit perfectly in some type of futuristic old-western showdown type scenario. Within the first minute in a half, Dirty Boy already gives you a tease of the absolutely orgasmic euphoria you’ll feel once the song has peaked. The line “He skip with cow eyed smile / to the blissful / Into craggy dress and / we will praise him him / We will praise him/” gives you an incredibly powerful high before sending you back climbing up that beautiful, beautiful mountain. The track is just under nine minutes of pure genius and militaristically beautiful songwriting technique. That climax. Oh god, that climax. After the six minute mark - even though it’s far from the last song of an (in my opinion) perfect record, Smith leaves his parting words for the song - and for you - the listener that was previously so blind to the jubilistic ecstasy of the world of the Cardiacs. One that leaves you begging for more, much like me.

“Over and out.”

#music #cardiacs

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years

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WEEZER - AFRICA

[2.08]

We're covering this because it was demanded on Twitter by like... maybe one or two people!

Joshua Minsoo Kim: An exciting musical event for people who go online and say things like "You, good sir, win the internet today." [0]

Taylor Alatorre: What did Weezer have to do to get back in the good graces of the Hot 100 for the first time since the balloon boy hoax? Apologize for party rocking with Dr. Luke and Jermaine Dupri? Drop the affectations and release a cathartic summer bummer album featuring their single greatest track since the 90s? Put the affectations back on, using late-period Fall Out Boy as a guidepost rather than a cautionary tale? Nope. Apparently all they had to do was check their Twitter mentions. The success of Weezer's "Africa," along with Disturbed's "The Sound of Silence" and Bad Wolves' "Zombie," portends a dark future in which guitar groups grasp onto whatever relevance they can by serving up unchallenging, irony-free leaf rubbings of pop's past glories. It's the easy path, and it's also the best way to self-fulfill the prophecy of rock's demise. If rock is destined to become the new jazz, 80s Greatest Hits compilations are the new standards. We should demand more audacious interpretations than this. [4]

Joshua Copperman: A great shitpost functions like a Rube Goldberg machine, putting a maximum amount of effort into a minimal, slight result (see: the GameCube meme). The insistence that Weezer should cover "Africa" was great not only because of the dedication of the Twitter account, but because fundamentally it's not a bad idea! Weezer has a sense of humor, and they're particularly notable for their harmonies and guitar riffs. Yet the result is abhorrent, with the worst mix to hit the Hot 100 this decade, a superlative achieved from the first crash cymbal and distractingly metallic snare. As the song goes on, distorted guitars and multitracked harmonies fight for space, obscuring those drum and culminating in a synth solo that screams Free 80s Synth VST instead of remotely mimicking the original. "Africa" is a hard song to cover, so it doesn't make sense to learn the song so meticulously and then utterly give up on anything else (harmonies and tom fills notwithstanding). The punchline should be that the cover is great, not that the cover exists st all -- think Celine Dion's contribution to Deadpool 2. Weezer's lack of willingness to go the extra mile, unlike Dion, is frustrating and borderline insulting. Internet types suspect that the poor mixing is "passive agressive," but what's the point of that? It's "Africa." The best covers of a song like that, shitposters or otherwise, both play up the camp factor and taking the actual songcraft seriously. The camp is there with Weezer, but it's still jarring hearing a version of "Africa" that feels dry and perfunctory instead of joyous. [2]

Juan F. Carruyo: This is what happens when a (bad) meme comes to life: the boys from Weezer take a note-for-note trip through the yacht rock classic adding metal power chords in the chorus but undermining the groove by subtracting the congas from the mix, so all that is left is a joyless, by-the-numbers execution. [1]

Alex Clifton: I like "Africa" as much as the next white people, but did we need this? Who asked for this? Is this ironic or sincere? "Africa" has been so memed out and Weezer themselves feel like a meme band that I'm struggling to wrap my head around it. As a cover: it's faithful and seems to love the source material. As a Weezer song: surprisingly not sarcastic, which is a nice change from Rivers Cuomo's usual schtick. As a whole: it's kind of a mess. [4]

Tim de Reuse: I mean, it's bad. The chorus, originally personable and warm, is here reduced to a straining mess of sugary guitars and phoned-in autotune. But even if there were an ounce of passion in the delivery, and even if the execution was in any way technically competent, and even if it didn't have the air of a desperate attempt to hop on a long-departed bandwagon, this would still be a waste of everyone's time, because Rivers Cuomo does not have anything meaningful to contribute to song "Africa" by the band Toto. [0]

Katherine St Asaph: At least when Rickrolling was a thing, no one tried to convince me that Rick Astley was a serious studio musician and that I should give an actual shit about Toto, instead of recognizing "Africa" as Mannheim Steamroller-synthed dreck with unsingable verses and mildly questionable lyrics about Africa that should have been left in the '80s alongside Dynasty hair and Ronald Reagan. That's not the most damning thing about Weezer covering "Africa." I also can't help but note that with the possible minor exception of "Total Eclipse of the Heart," this recanonization-via-meme only happens for the dudeliest of dudes. That's also, surprisingly, not the most damning thing about Weezer covering "Africa." Then there's Weezer, endlessly criticizable Weezer, already a meme band when they released Snuggies in 2009, now gone full Smash Mouth Eat the Eggs Imgur-core. It's Weezer in 2018, it's a given they're not trying, but it's still remarkable how mushy this sounds, like the rains down in Africa drenched all their equipment. But that's not the most damning thing about Weezer covering "Africa" either. The most damning thing is that Weezer covered "Africa" in a lower key. If you're going to karaoke your way back to relevance, put up the high notes or shut up. [1]

Edward Okulicz: I hate "Africa," and Weezer sleepwalking through it is the sort of thing that didn't need to exist, because it's easy to imagine it, and it's also easy to imagine something better. Like, say, Toto doing "Hash Pipe." Or! Even better! The Rentals doing "Hold the Line." [2]

Alfred Soto: Let me attempt to clear the fetid air. Toto needed Boz Scaggs, Michael Jackson, etc, to be any good. "Rosanna" is awful. I don't need Rivers Cuomo's power chords to explain how nostalgia for secondhand colonialism works. Who is this cover for? [2]

Jessica Doyle: So the original, while not exactly bland, is more cheesy than respectable; if the song has any notoriety at all it's because the lyrics are soaked in self-absorption, describing without containing any actual information. The cover increases the guitar and, while not changing the lyrics at all, delivers them with a wink. (Otherwise why bother? The original's not good enough for reverence.) And it works! The energy is fantastic, and the revisions make the original's flaws charming rather than grating. I've been having a lot of fun watching their live performances, and -- wait, what? Aren't we talking about Dreamcatcher? [2]

Thomas Inskeep: Not as smooth on the verses, and a little too hard on the chorus, but at least Rivers Cuomo dialed down the most whiny, grating qualities in his voice in an attempt to nail what makes "Africa" so perfect in the first place. This is a straight-down-the-middle second-base hit for me: I don't love it by any means, but I don't hate it. And that's more than I can say for the past decade, maybe two, of Weezer's career. It's nowhere near as good as the original, but you knew that. [5]

Ian Mathers: Is it really a surprise that the dude from Weezer is a less compelling singer (even, or especially with clunky digital assistance) than the dude from Toto? Or that loud guitars don't necessarily improve things? Or that anything good about this finely aged hunk of cheese is totally lost by trying to update it without even vaguely attempting to improve it? This does not bless any rains, anywhere. [0]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: It's impossible to review Weezer covering Toto's "Africa" in a way that reveals anything more than just noting that it is Weezer covering Toto's "Africa" in the year 2018. [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Weezer

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