#cats on synthesisers in space

[catsonsynthesizersinspace]

[alternazine]

Time for our second "Questions and Answers" session!

I, Rebi, will once again help you out. It's always lovely to see you! Here, us scientists will resolve all doubts. Remember you can ask us anything via our Curious Cat, Twitters DMs, Tumblr ask-me-anything or email. Now, let's begin! . . . «The following questions belong to: CONTRIBUTOR APPLICATIONS.» 1.- “If we, the artist submitting an application, created an artwork we believe fits in our top 3 after sending the application, are we allowed to change it before said applications close?” R = Applicants should be able to edit their form to do any changes they wish to. If this is not the case, feel free to reach out to us through Twitter, Tumblr or our email! 2.- “Are applicants going to be sent emails regardless of acceptance?” R = Yes! All applicants will receive either an email on March 11th with their acceptance, pinch hitter role or rejection. 3.- “It seems that this kettle/site is missing, is this a mistake?” R = All missing kettles/sites have already been claimed by guest artists and staff. This is to avoid someone picking most, if not all, taken kettles. 4.- “Are we allowed to use our own ocs as agent 3?” R = All contributors are allowed to use their own Neo 3 OCs in their pieces, as well as any interpretation of the canon cast, other agents and involved OCs. 5.- “Any word on the research figuring out if squids are real or not yet?” R = That’s classified information we cannot reveal at the moment. ----- «The following questions belong to: CURIOUS CAT.»

1.- “hello! I never saw the musician option before, was it in your Interest Check? I wanted to ask what is expected of a musician contributor. What kind of music are you accepting and the overall guidelines! I am also slightly concerned as I do not see a music Moderator, are mods knowledgeable about composition/production? Would there be any specific assets provided to make my music?” R = It was not, but we received some answers proposing musical involvement and we are happy to oblige! We think all art forms should be celebrated and given proper space to shine, we are just facilitating the stage.  Any kind of music is accepted. For example, you can make a melody that can blend seamlessly with the alterna soundtrack, a remix, full lyrical song about the story mode, acoustic, acapella.... It can be something as small as a ringtone or big as an album... It's all up to you! You own all rights for its publishing and distribution, we are just sharing it with your authorisation on the zine and not anywhere else. Changes to our carrd have already been done when this answer is published to reflect these guidelines. As for experience, host Rebi has received musical education and was part of an orchestra and a choir not so long ago as well. Although she no longer plays music due to health concerns and time restrictions, she is happy to help in any way to the best of her abilities. Host Tari has dabbled in composing and has musical education not only themself, but their family too. If by assets you mean music sheets or programs and alike then no, assets aren't provided. At this moment, Rebi works only with synthesisers and Tari with free chiptune/composing sites. Please keep in mind that this zine isn't serious, just a fun project to show off the members of the splatoon community and how they interpret the artificial land of Alterna!  2.- “If multiple people have the same level as their first pick and their portfolios are roughly equal, how will it be decided who gets the stage? by better pitch, other level pick availability, randomizer, smth else?” R = Stage assignment is decided solely on the chosen level availability, pitches are just for us to see how people think. 3.- “For pieces featuring Neo 3- does it have to feature the “canon” version of the character, or are OC interpretations allowed” R = All contributors are allowed to use their own Neo 3 OCs in their pieces, as well as any interpretation of the canon cast. 4.- “Hi! Ummm When we fill out the application forms and send it, do we automatically receive an automated email saying the form was sent?  I'm unsure whether or not I actually sent it after filling out one since I never received anything saying it was sent unlike other forms.” R = Please feel free to reach out through our email or social media DMs to check if your application went through or if you wish to edit something! 5.- “Do you need a social media presence to join? I plan on posting more online, but i only have a few posts on public social media so far” R = You do not need a social media presence to apply! It's an alternative if we cannot reach you through email when sending application results. 6.- “Is a downloadable pdf or a google document ok as a portfolio format?” R = Yes! As long as we can clearly see your work, it counts.

. . . This has been all for today. We thank you all for your interest and support. Now, I must go back to the Alterna center… One must keep an eye on the researchers. Some are still missing- Please look forward to our application results on March 11th!

« Art by @calatarii. Graphics by @rebiisea. All rights reserved. » « Information Hub: https://alternazine.carrd.co » « Open Contributor's Applications: https://www.tumblr.com/alternazine/741452328861908992/contributors-applications-start-now?source=share »

[harmbidder]

YOUR MUSE'S AESTHETICS.

bold what applies to your muse and italicise what sometimes applies to them. please repost, don't reblog!

COLOUR. red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTS. fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY. claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY. fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper spray. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles. words.

MATERIAL. bronze. gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE. grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS. lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK. sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES. music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defence. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theatre. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesisers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE. lingerie. armour. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewellery. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC. balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

[tempusetveritas]

YOUR MUSE'S AESTHETICS.

bold what applies to your muse and italicise what sometimes applies to them. please repost, don't reblog!

COLOUR. red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTS. fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY. claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY. fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper spray. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles. words.

MATERIAL. bronze. gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE. grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS. lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK. sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES. music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defence. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theatre. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesisers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE. lingerie. armour. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewellery. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC. balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

[hverfamodir]

YOUR MUSE'S AESTHETICS.

bold what applies to your muse and italicise what sometimes applies to them. please repost, don't reblog!

COLOUR. red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTS. fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY. claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY. fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper spray. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles. words.

MATERIAL. bronze. gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE. grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS. lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK. sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES. music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defence. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theatre. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesisers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE. lingerie. armour. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewellery. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC. balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

[earhartsease]

My badge collection grows apace - the top one is a Soviet era "master of hemp growing" badge apparently

[mindfulcuppa]

Dipped in Foreign Lands; An Exercise in Image Storytelling

The beginning of an offering of consolidated thoughts, photos, slices of life in between rocks, more photos, and general going.

Preface.

With an elongated farewell, a month passed before I departed the country. This time wasn’t spent finding accomodation, or sorting bank cards as it probably should have been. No, instead there was lots of relaxing, music, surfing, watching the NBA playoffs and organising of the hoards gathering dust in my parents cupboards. It wasn't until the final 2 days that the urgency of packing life into a bag for the foreseeable future became a priority. 

It was done though, thanks to my loving housemates who provided a ‘jacpac’ for its potential to be filled. 2 jackets, 6 t-shirts, 2 brother-made garments, 2 shirts, 2.5 pairs of shoes, 2 cameras, a recording kit (regrettable now…), synthesiser (also marginal…), 400 leaves of paper, and a whole lot of other possessions that I probably didn’t need to pack. I felt sad to think of time apart from some things, but their absence will drift like the main themes of Toy Story (1998). 

I write this now sitting at a glass dining table enclosed in a small house-in-progress situated on a piece of land in Almagreira. There are dogs barking next door, and many flies darting around the area. It has been 2 weeks since leaving Aotearoa, so I would like to tell you how I have been, and how it’s being seen. Through the lens of a digital camera (and the occasional iPhone pic).

1 Melbourne

As early birds get worms, I had an early flight to Naarm on 01/06/2023. Melbourne waited a bounty of friends, sandwiches, musical sharing, long walks, and pizza. A social extension on a Friday saw our Mouthfull ‘Live at Capers’ residence with a jovial group of deejays providing a space for listening, dancing - and a great meeting point for people to come together over some Mastika & Moussaka worthy of a trophy made of pure 1 million carat gold.

Tyler and I would also have so much fun playing songs on the radio for breakfast over 2 days (links below for listening). For breakfast we ate toast with avocado and tomato, and for breakfast radio we listened to a mixture of jazz, folk, new wave, ambient, worldly music with a sprinkling of a few classic ballads of course.

Sleeping on the sofa was comfortable after some cushion amendments and some wine. We would spend our days walking and talking in Carlton North, relaxing and imagining. Our best meal together was from the Sri Lankan spot, Citrus, where you can find a banquet of vegan smorgasbord for $15.

Once the event was said and done, a recovery in the mornings light was aided with a walk to the felafel shop to meet again with Olive. Hearing of her news in between bites brought great happiness and love.

The following day, I met with Poppy. We were to find a place in Brunswick for a coffee; opting for some breakfast too at Kines. While we were there, I would think of Denzel for his obsession with the cafe. His voice would riddle through echoes from the past. After our breakfast, we walked up and down, crossing Sydney road 3 times, turning corners, and entering discount food stores to browse the obscure flavours of pringles and chocolate. The day was hot and the walk long. Navigating our bodies to Ceres we rummaged through bike parts and found entertainment in a cat in the chicken coup. It was a pleasant walk, except the moderate panic when I left my jacket on a park bench with all money and devices embezzled in the pockets.

After all the catching up, walking, wandering; I caught a train down to Torquay to visit an old friend, Isabelle. It was strange down there considering last time was around 5 years ago staying in a resort not dissimilar to vaudeville. However, we would go for a long walk to discover an amazing mosaic sundial (designed by artist Claire Gittings - whom I have no known lineage to - but am probably related somehow). 

With conversations over a cafe breakfast of my conviction against mining, we would enjoy each others' company in a true taurus manner. I would stay in her house near Marshall and meet her love, and we would have a Spanish soup next to a brazen colour changing fire in a brazier. A casket of red wine was ordered for $10 and delivered promptly, while it wasn't exactly even middle of the road it was a fine drink.

Finally, a pizza evening at Leonado's with Harrison & Andre. Some of the best pizza you will try, the Italian community in Carlton is a reliable source. Twas a welcome carbohydrate to carry forward into the nights digestion on what was to be my last night in Naarm. I bought Tyler a Toblerone to thank him for my stay, and the constant trickling of happy travel wishes would soon be finished with a final embrace.

And so it was, as it was, an extended layover in a city being taken over by sandwich shops and wine bars. It was to be the takeoff point to the north, an expansion to signify the changing of place from previous programming. The world outside was luminous and the air filled with a freshness known to mother nature so much more well than ceiling fans.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

[c-40]

A-T-2 240 Wendy Carlos - Tron Soundtrack

The look of 80s Movies was only one part of it. The London Symphony Orchestra were as much a character of Lucasfilm or Amblin Entertainment type science fiction/fantasy/adventure type movies in the 80s as streams of light are or faces of awe and surprise

Wendy Carlos had created soundtracks for two Stanley Kubrick films, A Clockwork Orange and The Shining. The pioneering production of Tron made her an inspired choice for the Tron soundtrack. Wendy Carlos "I wanted to use a combination of orchestra and synthesizer for the real world, and just a string orchestra for the real world. I felt the symphony orchestra in combination with the synthesizer could be a strong factor in the film. It was a natural, simpatico idea that exactly complimented the way the film combined live actors and video graphics.

"In addition, this appeared to be an opportunity for me to break out and do a substantial amount of orchestral composition. I heard the soundtrack as blending throughout of electronic and acoustic colors with no harsh, artificial separation of timbres. I am trained and experienced in orchestration, I enjoy composing for orchestra, and I wanted to enter the project with my competence in orchestration acknowledged."

According to wikipedia Disney insisted on hiring the LSO because they feared Carlos couldn't complete the soundtrack on time but this is contradicted by Carlos who says it was always intended to be a mix of orchestration and synthesisers

There were production issues with Tron, it overran and Carlos got the final reels late in the process. She had noticed earlier because the production team had come from advertising the films editing was cut quicker than usual, this might explain the complex changes in the pieces. The LSO wasn't allowed any time to rehearse which created problems and meant a lot of fixing and new synthesiser parts to clean up mistakes

Tron is overshadowed by all synth soundtracks from 1982, Georgio Moroder's Cat People and Vangelis' Blade Runner and other LSO soundtracks like Ravi Shankar's Gandhi. At the time combining orchestration and synthesisers was a new idea and Carlos should get props for opening that space

Like Vangelis' Blade Runner and Mutiny legal issues with record companies have held up released of the soundtrack, it took the Tron soundtrack nearly 20-years to be released on CD

Here's a great interview about the Tron soundtrack with Robert Moog

Let Us Pray

The MCP sounds here are awesome

[catsonsynthesizersinspace]

NEON COSIS T-shirts!!! Shipping worldwide...

Neon COSIS tshirts! Shipping worldwide. Never ever sold on Amazon. Available here... https://www.catsonsynthesizersinspace.com/shop 

[insanityclause]

Cats review: a sinister, all-time disaster from which no one emerges unscathed

Tim Robey - The Telegraph

(Zero stars)

Dir: Tom Hooper. Cast: Judi Dench, James Corden, Idris Elba, Ian McKellen, Jennifer Hudson, Taylor Swift, Francesca Hayward, Jason Derulo, Rebel Wilson

Pre-judging Cats based on the widely ridiculed trailers wouldn’t be fair, especially once you realise they did it a lot of favours. They hid the big numbers. They silenced the singing. Minimised were James Corden’s wobbly pratfalls into piles of dead fish, Idris Elba’s leering expressions, and the entire role of Ian McKellen as Gus the Theatre Cat.

Once seen, the only realistic way to fix Cats would be to spay it, or simply pretend it never happened. Because it’s an all-time disaster – a rare and star-spangled calamity which will leave jaws littered across floors and agents unemployed. For the first time since the head-spinningly dire dadcom Old Dogs in 2010, I'm giving a film no stars.

At every turn, you imagine the panicked justifications. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s stage musical ran for 21 years in the West End and has grossed $3.5bn worldwide. Memory, sung by the depressed ex-glamour cat Grizabella, is a household favourite even your gran has covered. All of Tom Hooper’s last three films have won Oscars, somehow, and doesn’t the eclectic cast have something for everyone?

It becomes a scramble to get out alive. What worked in the round off Drury Lane in 1981 – a  suspension of disbelief, with the whole cast pirouetting in cat-suits – has been converted into a computer-aided hellscape so off-putting you may suspect eye failure. Hooper's Cats has an impossible job recovering from its own surreally charmless visual... I can’t say style. Choices certainly abound. Not one of them is good.

Meanwhile, the Frankensteinian marriage of live performance, “digital fur technology” and human/cat anatomical splicing – the boobs! they have boobs??!! – has such endlessly sinister impact that the film's U certificate ought to be an 18.

As it starts, a writhing pillowcase is flung into an alley off Piccadilly Circus, containing Victoria, an unwanted ingénue cat played by pretty, helpless ballerina Francesca Hayward. From all around her, a chorus of disembodied faces, atrociously wedded to the efforts of the effects team, bear down; a ghoulish synthesised arrangement of the overture gathers force; already, we know we’re in deep, deep trouble.

Jokes don’t save us, since Lee Hall’s script tries every cat idiom in the OED to find a funny one. Plot, too, can’t come to the rescue, because T.S. Eliot’s source poems didn’t provide one. As each cameo performance comes and goes, the mind boggles at which of them – according to judging matriarch Old Deuteronomy (a deeply earnest, inescapably hilarious Judi Dench) – could possibly be deemed top cat.

First contender Jennyandots is a lazy house tabby in the desperate, crotch-scratching shape of Rebel Wilson. Her big number has mice in a doll-house with human faces, and cockroaches in march formation, one of which she gobbles down in mad close-up. With its nightmare production design and nauseating lurches in scale and perspective, it might be the ugliest big-screen musical sequence ever mounted.

But let’s not count our chickens quite yet. In come Jason Derulo as a sleazy playa called Rum Tum Tugger, and Corden’s greedy-guts Bustopher Jones, neither carrying a tune to speak of, and both made to strip off outerwear and get furrily naked, sans genitals. McKellen, meanwhile, is caught lapping backstage from a dish, tongue loose. It’s one of a thousand giffable moments an audience won’t be able to delete.

Grizabella (Jennifer Hudson) traipses about in shadow, shawled in what look like the remains of four other dead cats’ pelts. Hooper gets her to do Memory at the base of a lamp-post, essentially duplicating his one-shot I Dreamed a Dream for Anne Hathaway in Les Misérables. No Oscars here: when J.Hud hobbles amateurishly into the ball for a double-the-pathos reprise, my adjacent colleague was reduced to a senseless, cackling wreck for a full minute.

An hour and a quarter in, I wondered if Taylor Swift, who’s nowhere to be seen, had forced her management at knife-point to yank her out of the edit. But no. She drops by on a suspended moon and is gone in the space of a song – Macavity – which comes closer than anything before it to genuinely working.

Swift is catlike and can sing, which – guess what? – turn out to be attributes helpful in a Cats musical. If we pretended this bit was just her weirdest ever pop video, and ignored Elba’s Macavity �� sashaying in with shiny chocolate fur for the worst shots of his life – we might just about live with it. Finding any high point in Cats, though, takes some serious scratching.

[dianamjackson]

How To Achieve World Peace (2020)

I have figured out a few things that explain common phenomena in society but are routinely overlooked.

I can explain why conservatives and liberals have always existed, and why conservatives are often in power. I can explain ‘black sheep’ of families and why almost everyone has a ‘weird aunty’ or a ‘weird uncle.’ I can explain why artists are so often depressed, so creative and so misunderstood. I can explain conformity and non-conformity. I can explain Michael Jackson’s attraction to shiny things, and everything else about him.

The thing to remember is that we are animals like all the others, and that our evolutionary history shaped us — not culture. People who think culture is stronger hold that individuals choose their preferences in life, which is false. People choose the things they do because they’re programmed that way by evolution, and it is not one size fits all.

There are two main sorts of humans on the earth: family types (making up at least 80% of the population) and leaders (making up the rest).

Family types evolved to survive, raise families and do exactly what their parents did. For this reason they are conservative, incurious (because any new thing is a potential threat to existing conditions), blinkered and have a practical and deductive intelligence rather than a synthetic and inductive one. Leaders are explorers — their education never ends. Their permanent curiosity ensures they are forever exploring, making new connections and forming new hypotheses.

Without this neat ~80/20 balance, human society would not progress. Without the leaders, no new inventions would be created and we’d all still be living in caves. Without family types, nothing could be instantiated and there would be anarchy. Nature or God or whatever is responsible for the order we see in the universe worked this ideal ratio out so that beings could develop and differentiate and proliferate — basically, to make manifest the creativity of the universe.

I remember a few years ago reading Satoshi Kanazawa’s book The Intelligence Paradox, wherein he describes the traits of people with above-average intelligence: they are usually night owls, are less likely to marry and have kids, enjoy experimenting with drugs, are highly curious and creative. I think he was fired from Psychology Today for stating his findings. Ah, political correctness getting in the way of science, again.

Growing up I noticed a pattern in every family I encountered: the parents were normal enough (after all, they were parents), one child was robust and similar to the parents, and the other was a highly sensitive, interesting and curious type. If there were more than two children, there were more robust types than sensitive types.

Growing up I had a hell of a time in my family. I loved staying up late reading, writing and playing music. I loved the night so much that I covered my windows during the day, which is something Jimi Hendrix also did. My parents were dismayed and couldn’t understand why I was so different to them. I also liked going out for days, exploring and experimenting. I was, of course, extremely artistic from the beginning. I understood concepts at school very quickly, and got in trouble for breaking the rules and prioritising my own ideals over that of my superiors.

All these behaviours label children, and the adults they become, ‘troublemakers’ and rebels. “Why can’t they just behave?” parents and teachers lament. Well, because evolution programmed them that way. But back then I would’ve utilised a far shorter answer.

Leader types, being highly sensitive, experience the discord of growing up in families of followers very intensely and in far higher resolution. If a father is strict and domineering, the sensitive child will feel he is ruled by a tyrant. Off-handed criticisms will be stab wounds that are nursed for years and years. Their deep processing will have them mulling and stewing over the slightest things that followers forget in the very next moment.

Thousands of years ago, human tribes had to hunt animals, gather foods, build shelters, live in the shelters and raise families. Distinct human types evolved to carry out these different tasks.

Leaders are the hunting and exploring type. They were the ones who went out, probably at night, to look for food. To be good at this, they had to be highly sensitive so they could hear every noise, smell every smell, feel the vaguest touch on their skin and see the slightest movement. They had to be brave and bold to explore scary places. They had to be graceful and silent as cats to sneak up on prey, but aggressive enough to actually kill. They had to have loud, developed voices in order to communicate with other members of the hunting party. They had to be confident of their own opinion and communicate it effectively to others in order to lead.

They also had to be able to imitate other animals they encountered, to seem less threatening. They also had to be ingratiating in order to win the trust of people they only just met — and they would have met many people on their travels. They had to be highly adaptable to quickly get used to ever-changing environments. They had to be physically robust and agile to withstand the rigours of their itinerant hunting life. They developed the classic ‘rolling stone’ personality — Jimi couldn’t stand being in the same place for three months, let alone years. They also needed great and detailed memories, to remember where they’d been.

With their keen vision they would spot anomalous objects in the environment — shiny things might indicate water, and colourful things (especially red and yellow) would indicate food. Look at the colours and shiny things Michael wears and is attracted to. Watching him shopping is literally watching a leader type hunting in the forest thousands of years ago.

Their sensitivity is responsible for their artistry. As I read somewhere (possibly in Elaine Aron’s book The Highly Sensitive Person), not all highly sensitive people are geniuses, but all geniuses are highly sensitive. Charles Darwin lined his room with cork to keep the noise out. Jimi, as mentioned, covered his windows with black fabric. All this is to minimise stimulation. Because highly sensitive people take in so much more information from their environment, and process it so much more deeply, they need to restrict it only to what is most important to them.

Being a night owl, as Kanazawa found in his research, was related to higher intelligence. Much hunting probably occurred at night, when the animals were about, or it was easier to travel without being seen. The peace and stillness of the night also minimises stimulation for highly sensitive leader types. Intelligence itself is required to make connections between disparate phenomena, entertain several possible explanations, and synthesise information to decide on a verdict and course of action. The activity of hunting would have honed the intelligence of leader types. Any kind of physical bodily movement and coordination increases brain power — dancing for example. Moving the body in space. I relate this to moving ideas around in one’s head. This is how I did philosophy at university: I literally saw concepts as interacting forms in my mind. Einstein also thought in visual-spatial terms.

Something fascinating about stimulation is that leader types seem to become rapidly overwhelmed by experiences that family types consider quite routine and harmless, but at the same time, they crave intense stimulation. Paradoxical personalities, innit? Clearly, not all stimulation is created equal: a normal day in an office as an employee would be intense and overwhelming for a leader, but then they go out at night, attracted by the bright lights and shiny things of the city, loud music and the stage, and crowds.

A hypothesis of mine is that leader types are born with ‘happy’ neurotransmitter deficits. The strong correlation of substance use and abuse with artists, I think, is related to this deficit. In general, almost everything that makes us feel good — no matter what type of animal you are — does so because it fulfils some evolutionary prerogative. Leader types evolved to be sad — is what I’m saying. They are naturally sad. Therefore, they are forced to do things of a specific kind to alleviate that sadness. Michael is really good at being sad, but he’s also really good at alleviating that sadness. Drugs, alcohol, excitement, driving fast, athletics, dancing, bright colours, shiny things, movement, strong sunlight, making people feel and do things, eating certain foods, exploring, romance, helping and educating people, learning, discovering, conquering, mystery — all of these things alleviate the natural depression of the leader type. Fasting, too. What could more blatantly inspire a person to go out and hunt, besides hunger? Both Michael and myself had anorexia, but his was more extreme perhaps because he was more sensitive or his upbringing was more damaging, and he was constantly in the spotlight. But apart from the self-soothing reason, and the aesthetic reason (wanting a “dancer’s body”), I think we literally like to be hungry, as it were. I do believe he said, in his delightful hyperbole: “I hate food.” It keeps us searching. Anything that inspires a leader type to go out and be a leader will feel good, because that’s what nature wants us to do.

Mystery is integral for the leader type. It’s one of the main motivators of action and a guarantee of happiness and flourishing. I finally understand the propensity for this type to entertain idealistic romances and muses. Try making a person give up something that guarantees them happiness! As C. S. Lewis said so well “Desiring desire is the fullest possession we can know.” I finally understand this. What I want is to be in a state of desire, because it’s animating, life-giving, exciting. Why else would I love improvising so much? I love the mystery of not knowing what will come out of my guitar, what I will sing, or what dance moves I will come up with. I love mystery so much that all my essays are pretty much streams of consciousness.

Everything is on a spectrum, including family type/leader proclivity, and gender too. Effeminate men prefer masculine women; masculine men prefer feminine women. It’s all about balancing genetics to bring about the best complementarity. Who you’re attracted to is not a choice. Those with feminine hips are attracted to masculine hips; those with deep-set eyes are attracted to protuberant eyes; square-jaws are attracted to heart-shaped jaws; pinched-in cheeks are attracted to smoother, convex cheekbones. You can set your watch by this stuff.

Leader types also tend to be gender-indeterminate, or “in the middle” with respect to the male-female spectrum. This gives them the best of both worlds — e.g. deep empathy and nurture from the female side, and single-minded determination and action from the male. I do not think this is a degeneracy. Rather, in my view it is actually a requirement for leader types. To be too male or too female would be a hindrance for a leader.

In politics, there will always be conservatives and liberals, and more conservatives than liberals, because these represent the two primary types of humans, and their ratio, on earth.

The way to achieve world peace is to acknowledge the two broad types. Both are necessary for the survival and continuation of the human species. Conflict can seed change, but oftentimes we could do with a little less conflict and a little more understanding. Understanding of the millennia-old biology of our species that is — not politically correct ‘tolerance’. We need to understand things instead of merely tolerating them.

But the sobering reality is that family types can never fully understand leaders, and leaders can never fully understand family types. Each has a very different evolutionary prerogative that is very deeply ingrained. For one to understand the other, the one needs to literally inhabit the physical body of the other — which is currently impossible. Type ‘goes all the way down’ — the nervous system is different, the brain is different, the emotions are different, the values are different — everything is different.

This is why ‘black sheep’ — a derogatory term that betrays a lack of understanding on the part of the family types (but it is after all in their nature to demonise difference because it is threatening) — get along better with friends, aunties and uncles and other leaders unrelated to them instead of their own families. And it’s interesting that they’re called ‘black’: I have noticed highly sensitive leader types do often wear black, and I think this is to minimise stimulation. It’s one less item for them to process.

This is why certain kids act out at school, and why every person I admire from Debussy to Miles Davis to Isadora Duncan to Walt Disney quit the schools they were at. This is why Michael left the Jacksons and struck out on his own. This is why Zappa stayed up all night drinking coffee making the music he wanted to hear regardless of what other people thought about it.

This is also why the majority of people — the followers — shun, disbelieve and are afraid of leader types. The reason J. K. Rowling had to pitch her book to 200 publishers was because she saw the value of her work, but the publishers — who aren’t leaders — could not. The more innovative a thing, the less followers can comprehend its value. Followers are biologically programmed to play it safe and not take risks. This is infuriating for leaders, but the solution is not anger, but rather perseverance. Think of J. K. being turned away from the 199th publisher. Perseverance. Bang on long enough about something and family types will eventually stop feeling threatened because now you’re part of the furniture.

Another paradoxical thing about family types feeling threatened by leaders is that leaders are, in almost every instance, seeking to make the world a better place with their works. Think of Tesla. Leaders need family types — the two are in symbiosis — so it is definitely not in a leader’s interests to harm their followers. They are shepherds, not wolves. Empathy for their pack is high, because a leader who doesn’t care for their flock will not be followed for long. The extremely high degree of similarity between myself and Michael can be, to a great extent, explained by the fact that we are of the same human type (and probably share some genetics too). He has all the characteristic leader type qualities: he’s highly sensitive, an artist and a musician, he’s obsessed with the way people and animals move and is very curious. He loves bright colours and shiny things, which are food. I believe he said he loved Disney films so much “I could just eat (them)!” (I told a friend once that his photographs made me hungry; he looked at me like I was insane.) And of course the beautiful — Michael loves beauty — he goes weak in its presence. If there’s something he doesn’t understand, he’s fascinated by it and will obsess over it. He has a highly developed somatic-neuronal ability (that’s my term; I don’t know the correct neurological term), which is why his movements are so fluid and why he can imitate others so easily. He’s both male and female, has a great strong voice, resists authority, is ingratiating and immediately loveable, likes climbing trees and running around, staunchly believes in his own vision and he made looking after his ‘tribe’ the central mission of his life. He owned thousands of books and was constantly reading, usually by himself. All Michael’s searching made him very knowledgeable, of course. He liked to associate with fellow talented and driven people, from whom he gathered even more leadership advice. Michael’s not messing around — the advice he gives you is the advice he’s given himself. He experiments on himself. He’s a leader — a real leader — so he wants to help. One day I was dancing at home and came up with a certain move. Two weeks later, I happened to be watching a video of Mike’s and saw him do the exact same move. I couldn’t believe it. At the time I came up with it, I had no memory of having seen him do any such move. I was dancing in the mirror, and happened to trace the outline of my thigh with a finger — it was totally spontaneous and improvised. I liked that I was drawing and dancing at the same time — I do draw and dance, so it was exciting for me to do them simultaneously. In his video he was dancing to Dangerous, and he did that move. I thought “So now he’s copying me?!” This kind of thing happens often, and not just in dancing. For example, I’ll have some opinion about something, then later hear that he has the same opinion about that thing. Or I’ll happen to think of something I did when I was a lot younger, and it turns out he did the exact same thing. Then there’s the Star Wars thing, the one glove thing, the cape thing, the cutting the front of our shirts thing, the liking the same colours thing, the gum and TicTac thing, the similar music taste and compositional style thing, the sitting down with one leg or arm stretched out thing, the liking the exact same part of the flight attendant demonstration thing... We even have the same taste in women. Type, type, type. Once you know someone’s type, you can pretty much get out your checklist and starting ticking things off. Although, I don’t at this point know where type ends and genetics begin, because a lot of these similarities must owe to genetics, not type. I’ll work on this.

Being childlike is, I am positing, an integral part of the leader-hunter-HSP type. Mike and I both retained our childlike attitude to the world. For me, I distinctly remember the day I made the decision to never grow up. I was 14, on the basketball courts in junior high school near the end of the day. I thought “It’s just so much fun being a kid, I’m not going to grow up. Why should I?” It was also around that time that I decided what my life’s goal would be, having just read Freud: to be myself. I didn’t want to be a fireman or a lawyer or a teacher — I wanted to be myself, my truest self. Even back then, I knew this was a worthy goal, and I knew that it would be difficult.

Mike famously identified with Peter Pan, and passionately championed a childlike view of the world. He often claimed this was because he was denied a childhood, but I think there’s more at work here than that fact alone. Even if he had had a more normal childhood, he’d still probably have remained pretty childlike, because that’s an integral characteristic of the leader type. Being childlike — being open, innocent, relentlessly curious, able to withhold judgement, and trusting — is essential to being a leader. If leaders weren’t open to new information (i.e. adaptable), etc — they wouldn’t be effective leaders. If a leader didn’t trust his advisors, he couldn’t get anything done. Suspicion is poison.

It’s known that Mike was trusting. He advised his friend Brett Ratner that one of the big lessons he learned was “not to trust everybody in the industry; there are a lot of sharks.” But a person who is naturally trusting has a hard time trying to become the opposite, let me tell you. To be trusting is beautiful; when a trusting person is betrayed, it is not they who have erred.

It has fascinated me over my lifetime to observe the way sexual desire can be completely decoupled from child-rearing. Leader types definitely have sexual desire: just think of Jimi. Mike too, Madonna, Greta Garbo, Picasso. With men it’s fairly straight-forward, but I always wondered how female leaders could get away with it, seeing as they’d be having so many children but no desire to look after them — clearly a less-than-ideal situation. Maintaining a pregnancy and then a baby would definitely slow them down and make them vulnerable to attack. Nature may have solved this problem by making leader types infertile. After all, their genes will be passed on via their siblings’ children, so there’s no need for them to do it personally. It prevents overpopulation. And besides, their legacy is cultural innovation, not physical progeny. Some say that Mike was infertile. It could well be that this is by nature’s design.

Barbara Sher calls leader types ‘scanners’. Scanners are people who flit from one thing to the next, seemingly at random, are reading 50 books at any one time, and change careers frequently — you get the idea. But my contention is that leader types do this in order to get the best ‘lay of the land’. If they didn’t, if they were a specialist in some tiny nook of expertise, what would they know about the world? Nothing! All they’d know is their little area (which there’s nothing wrong with by the way, it’s just not the scanner approach). Scanners scan. They try to get the best view of everything — figuratively and literally.

I know this type is rare, but I don’t know how rare. I’ve certainly never encountered anyone as similar to me before, but then I don’t know everyone. Surely a person with such obvious and anomalous qualities would rise to prominence, almost by default. They’re generally in art, but not just anywhere. They’re in the ‘I’m either myself or dead’ camp. Michael’s well-known because he’s well-known, and because he so strongly felt the need to share his values with the world, he thereby revealed himself. There could be many of us. Some may prefer to remain unknown. I don’t know yet.

As I said before, everything is on a spectrum, so you could be a more or less extreme leader type, and a more or less extreme family type. There may be sub-types. The ‘lone wolf’ is an extreme leader type. Aldous Huxley said “The more original and powerful a mind, the more inclined it is to the religion of solitude.” I think lone wolves relate best to other lone wolves; other types will simply be too different. They’re introverted because there’s a whole world inside their heads, and much of the outside input they’d encounter would actually hinder their progress. As a leader, stepping outside of the leader pack can be incredibly demoralising. Out there, there's a flattening going on. If you have a sleepover with kids, all of a sudden it's about sex. If you say the n word, it's suddenly all about race. And you think, “Why is everything about sex and race? Are there not more things to discuss? Develop some granularity in your approach already!” The flattening is in full swing at the moment, with so many red herrings slapping around that you can’t hear yourself think. (Contemplating that kinda makes me hungry... All those shiny fish...) Maybe the majority do this in order to feel safer: if they can reduce indeterminate phenomena to something simple, then they can feel like they know what they're dealing with. Simplify and blame. It’s a stupid game, and so boring. I'm not at all surprised that artists feel the need to invent entirely new worlds to escape this shit.

So there you have it: there is a naturalistic, evolutionary explanation for so many of the specific human behaviours that we observe in society. The choices people make are, in large part, due to their evolutionary type. Encountering Michael was the icing on my cake of investigation, because I reasoned there had to be an explanation as to why we’re so similar and I knew that it wasn’t due to mere chance.

So if you’re a sensitive, introverted kid who likes doing their own thing and your family gives you hell for being strange and different — for God’s sake, understand that there’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. You’ve been designed to be the way you are over millions of years of evolution, because this is the only way humanity can work. You are the reason we have electricity, cars, great works of art, beautiful films and music, incredible dancers and athletes, mathematics, poetry, physics, philosophy, engineering, comfortable houses and beds, heating, space exploration, wonderful stories and the rule of law. All of these things were invented by leader types. The most important thing is to know who you are. It’s Quincy Jones’ first rule too. Once you know that, you will make much better decisions in all areas of your life. “A guy can dig ditches and enjoy it”, as Jimi said. If you want to be happy and effective, you must be doing things that align with your particular nature.

Don’t waste years doing things other people tell you to do. What do they know about you, anyway? Do they know your deepest desires? No they don’t, because to discover them is long, personal work. No-one can do it for you. Your mum can’t do it for you. I don’t care if she’s your mother and she wants the best for you -- she’s not you. Don’t do things for extrinsic rewards like money or fame. I recall reading a teacher who complained that all his kids just want to be famous, but then he asked them “Famous for what?” People who become famous do so because they’re passionate and obsessed with something and thereby become very good at it. Don’t desire to be famous, desire to become obsessed with something. Fall in love with something. Then you’ll probably become famous anyway, but by then you won’t care, because all you want to do is the thing you’re obsessed with.

But family types are essential too. Just because they don’t innovate, they create a stable society in which everyone — including leader types — can live. They create and maintain order, follow instructions and implement your ideas. They start families and actually create the people society needs, including all future leaders.

The two types must know about, respect and be thankful for each other, for neither could live without the other.

Masses of conflict rage each day because people think that other people act the way they do by choice. But things are so incredibly ingrained, that it’s quite absurd to think that anyone makes any kind of choice. We do have free will, but can only exercise it to the point our fundamental orientation allows. Can’t fight one’s nature, as Orwell said. Fight it too long and she’ll make you pay, with your health or your life.

It is apparent to me that my entire discussion has remained completely materialistic. I’ve not touched upon so-called ‘supernatural’ phenomena at all. I don’t like the term ‘supernatural’ because, if something exists, it is natural — no matter how perplexing or odd, everything is Nature, everything is natural. It’s not like the earth and its rocks are natural, and then precognition of the future and witnessing midnight processions of long-deceased people — as Jung and others did, centuries apart mind you — are outside of the natural. Everything is natural. If it happened, it was natural, and there is an explanation.

Now it might seem boring to learn that all these things in fact have a boring materialistic explanation. But as usual, there are many more things that we don’t yet know. The perplexing nature of time, for example. I suspect that time is very different to how most people conceive of it, but that discussion is for another time.

Back to the strictly material. A few hundred years of culture won’t put a dent in millennia of evolution. Culture is itself an outgrowth of evolution, and it needs to humbly acknowledge this fact instead of thinking that now it is king. The patterns and drives of Nature are king, and they explain everything. DS 06-07/2020

[emeraldtawny]

Drug Dealer!AU Harr, Lancelot , Sirius & Fenrir (ft. Seth): Networking

A little taster of my Drug Dealer AU. The set-up of the characters is linked here and I recommend reading it before reading this. Hope you all enjoy~! :3

“This is a bad idea. Nothing good can come of this, Lance, and you know it.”

“Stop your needless worrying, Sirius. It’s a simple business deal and everything is under surveillance and moderated.”

“Which means as soon as the police catch wind of this, we’re all going to jail, if not worse. Dammit, why did I agree to be dragged into this?”

Sirius’ exasperated sigh echoes his distaste of the situation as he rakes his fingers through his short hair, his amethyst hues glancing out the window at the sickly neon lights lighting up the surrounding buildings. His grip on the steering wheel of the car tightens, his leather gloves scrunching its fabric together as his fist clenches.

“Relax, Sirius.” Lancelot’s refined voice drawls out as if tired of his friend’s constant disbelief in his abilities - which he is, “It’s a simple over-the-table discussion. The man may be young, but he’s cooperative and knows what he’s doing. I can almost guarantee a positive outcome from this.”

Sirius closes his eyes with a sigh, “Whether he’s on board with it or not doesn’t matter when even opening up this operation to a broader scale is just asking for trouble. It’s bad enough with just the three of us as it is.”

Opening his eyes, Sirius directs his gaze to the rearview mirror and lets his eyes lock with the man in the backseat, one eye of grey and the other covered by a silver patch, like his family namesake.

“What about you, Harr? You’ve been quiet the whole ride here. It’s never too late to turn back.”

“Just because you want to, you coward. Don’t force your opinion onto him.”

Lancelot scoffs before turning around in the front seat, his elbow propped up on the seat as his eyes, as blue as the Crystals they refine and synthesise, meet Harr’s with an almost piercing glare, an inkling of a threat seeping out of his serious gaze.

Silence. Shortly after, a soft sigh; not of resignation, but more to reassure and calm one’s nerves.

“Let’s go, Lancelot.”

The younger man doesn’t wait for a reply as he opens the car door and steps out of the vehicle. Lancelot and Sirius share a glance, Lancelot’s holding silent smugness whilst Sirius’ only holds concern.

“If you’re not back in 30 minutes, I’m dragging both of you back here, whether the deal goes through or not.”

“It won’t take that long. Just stand by and be ready if we need a quick escape.”

Ignoring his friend’s clearly vexed glare, Lancelot exits the car slamming the door behind him. The heels of his boots click softly against the road as he moves to stand beside Harr, the latter’s trenchcoat fluttering its edges with the night’s breeze. The two stand as different as night and day, Lancelot’s clean-cut crimson red button-up with a classy black blazer with white accents contrasting against Harr’s mahogany trench coat covering up most of his tall form. Yet the two stand in front of a building neither would consider a place they would go to of their own whim.

The infamous Cat’s Cradle nightclub. A popular hangout for the adult youth of the city, yet the shadow of its less than savoury underbelly looms ever-present over the fun boisterous atmosphere the nightclub promises. With nothing more than a shared side glance at the other man beside them, the two men step towards the nightclub’s entrance, the bass of the music loud enough to reverberate through the walls and jostle the ground beneath them with their vibrations.

The garish neon lights intensify tenfold as they step into the nightclub’s walls, shades of cyan and bright pink flaring and illuminating the room, each pump of the bass through the countless speakers drowning out the vicinity with its catchy, deafening music. That matters little to Harr and Lancelot, aware of how out of place the smartly dressed older men look compared to the younger party-crazed inhabitants of the club, straining their vocal cords over the music and tipping back shots without a care in the world.

“Where is he?”

Harr’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Lancelot picks up on every word despite the constant distractions surrounding them, the highly refined Crystal coursing through his bloodstream working its magic - or rather, science.

“Near the back. He should be expecting us so let’s not keep him waiting.”

With a curt nod, they begin to weave their way through throngs of people, Harr reaching up to adjust his collar with awkward discomfort while Lancelot pushes through the crowd creating a path for them both. As they emerge on the other side, both breathe to relish their regained personal space before approaching the esteemed VIP area, velvet ropes cutting off the area from the rest of the club, the air of esteem more refined yet still bubbling with the excitement of the club’s bubbly atmosphere.

As they approach the bouncer standing in their way, his brown eyes narrowing in recognition and a refined smile curling his lips, he unhooks the chain of the rope and stands aside before they even reach him.

“Right this way, Mr Silver, Mr Kingsley. He’s been waiting patiently for you.”

The two men pass him, both eyeing the bouncer somewhat sceptically, seemingly surprised by the deeper tone of voice coming from the mouth of someone with luscious baby blue locks framing his face and stretching down to caress his back. They pay this little mind, however, as the man they’ve arranged to meet comes into their view, Lancelot moving forward with purpose with Harr moving slightly slower behind him, a silent sigh escaping him for whatever is to come.

Under the blue lowlights of the nightclub, a young man lounges casually against the lavish plush couch, his legs crossed and one arm hanging over the back of the couch, his other busy rubbing a Crystal between his thumb and forefinger. His magenta hair jumps out, somehow brighter and more eye-catching than the countless flashing lights surrounding them. Eyes of an equal hue gleam with confidence, charisma and a cocky aura, yet in a way that draws one in instead of being repulsive. His foot kicks languidly back and forth, his eyes narrowing at the Crystal he holds, a suave smirk splitting his lips accompanying it. The metal bauble pierced to hug the curve of his left eyebrow sparkles with the reflected light from the Crystal, as well as the earring dangling from his left ear, the intricate chain with a spade motif attached glistening with the light’s divine influence.

His eyes flit to the men approaching him before they even make their presence known and he grins wide, the sight somehow more invigorating and adrenaline-pumping than the nightclub’s entire atmosphere; the man who runs such an infamously popular nightclub would, of course, have the personality to match.

“Yo. Glad you could make it.”

Even over the pumping bass of the music, his tenor voice only emphasises his charismatic demeanour. His legs uncross as he moves to stand, his tight jeans with rips littering the right leg yet minimal on the left hugging his legs down to the black laced boots adorning his feet. The white V-neck he sports generously teases his collarbone and the beginnings of his pecs before a black waistcoat with lime green accents draws one’s eye away, the dozens of silver chains hooked onto the lapels and following to the pocket of the waistcoat another charming addition to this man’s entire character. Slicking his hair back with a simple push of his fingers through his hair, he throws the Crystal softly into the air before catching it with a cocky grin.

“Well, gentlemen. Shall we begin?”

[expressandadmirable]

Tomorrow Untrodden (Morgan)

I.

“Hey.”

Morgan offered a wan half-smile. “Hey.”

Pulling the Lefein into a soft hug, Aviva was struck by the memory of hugging Morgan the Gnome. Back then she had been half the Tiefling’s size rather than half a head taller. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah.” The pair released one another and settled onto a bench in the hallway, the soft, misty light from the windows at either end making the world seem preternaturally quiet. “He was happy to see us. He told us a couple times.”

Aviva considered making a joke about how impossible it had always been to unravel Lukahn’s ramblings, even for someone as adept at prophecy as Elerian or Cid, but she thought better of it. Morgan had always had a gift for deciphering her spiritual kin. “You came to see him often, huh?”

Morgan nodded. “Uncle Cid and I made regular trips. We built a lot of card houses, and we told him how the world was changing. I came up with a lot of ways to play games differently, like extra rules and variations and stuff, and he really liked that.” She smiled. “Maergrahn trained me well, I guess.”

“Was he able to leave you with any parting thoughts?”

“A few. Mostly he told us he was happy. And he asked me to build an extra large card house in his honour.”

“Sounds like an appropriate cairn.”

Morgan snorted, then let it fade into a sigh. “Uncle and I are the last of the Lefein now.”

Aviva nodded slightly. “How are you feeling?” The eternal question.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” For a brief time, Aviva had known what it felt like to be the last of her kind. But they had been able to restore the Tieflings. The Lefein did not share that destiny. She took Morgan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You want to come back to Aelfheim for a bit? Spare room’s yours whenever you want it.”

“Uncle and I need to take care of a few things first. We’re going to scatter Lukahn’s remains in places of significance to the Lefein. It shouldn’t take too long, with the Highwind. But then yes. I’d like that.” Morgan smiled a little more broadly. “I think Starman is pining for Demon.”

Aviva chuckled. “I know Demon’s pining for Starman, she regularly tears up the toy you gave her that looks like him and then cries at me until I mend it. Please let our cats reunite before she drives us mad.”

Morgan giggled. “Okay. I’ll come by once I’ve dropped Uncle back at his lab. Maybe a week or so.” For a few moments, she lapsed into silence, then laced her fingers with Aviva’s. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” Aviva kissed the Lefein’s cheek. “You’re family.”

II.

Leaving Halei in their sitting room, Aviva grinned in anticipation, the air turning translucent gold as she cast her spell. A moment later, the bridge of the Highwind shimmered into view. “Cidney!” she called. “I’m here early, and I brought treats from Aelf--”

“‘Viva, get down!!”

Instinctively, Aviva ducked, just in time to see a bolt of energy streak through where her head had been. Turning in a crouch, she realised the ship was listing precipitously to one side, the internal gravity only thing keeping her from tumbling into the window. “Cid?!”

Another bolt of energy struck the floor near her knee. A mote of flame instinctively forming in her palm, she spun to face her attacker and nearly collided with Morgan coming for her at a sprint. “Cid, what in all the hells?!”

“Behind my chair!”

The pair dove beyond the captain’s chair just as the hulking metal humanoid at the other end of the bridge fired again. Calculating the distance of its prey, the living tech lumbered towards them. “Making friends?!”

Morgan flashed her a lighting quick withering look, then raised both guns and fired, hitting the tech square in the chest. “Lefeinish creation. Prototype servitor. In near perfect working condition, and I’d like to try and keep it that way--” She ducked to avoid a retaliatory blast. “So don’t hit it in the head!”

With a curt nod, Aviva let loose handful after handful of searing flame, dutifully aiming for the torso. Morgan reloaded her guns with practiced efficiency and separated the tech’s joints from its body, causing it to topple forward onto the deck. In perfect unison, each woman took one final shot, and with a frustrated whir, the tech stilled.

Silence crept across the bridge. Morgan stood cautiously, stepping out from behind her chair and nudging the tech with her boot. It did not move. Confidence instantly restored, she crouched by its head. “Well, that didn’t go how I expected.”

“And how, exactly, did you expect that to go?” Aviva straightened, then leaned against the chair.

“How was I supposed to know it had defence protocols?” Morgan replied testily, rapping on the tech’s head. “Just means I have to run more diagnostics before I turn him on again.” Sensing Aviva opening her mouth to retort, Morgan waved a hand. “It’ll be fine.” Every inch the mad scientist. She pushed to her feet, straightened her hair, then turned to Aviva with a wide, delighted smile.

“You said you had treats?”

III.

“It’s time.”

Halei set up from her place on the sofa, instantly alert. “Are you sure?”

Aviva glared at her wife, then doubled over as a contraction shot through her, leaning against the dining table for support. “Yes,” she forced through gritted teeth, “it is most definitely time.”

“Right.” Appearing at Aviva’s side, Halei helped her into the bedroom and over to the bed. “Mei and your mother are in the garden; I’ll fetch them first, then Elerian. You breathe. What else do you need?”

“Infinite willpower. And water.” Aviva winced in pain as Halei turned on her heel, then an irritated chirp drew her attention to the corner of the room. From a nest of old fabric, the amber eyes of Demon of the Abyssal Reach stared back at her. “You too?”

“Hmm?” Halei returned from the kitchen, pressing a mug of water into Aviva’s hands. “Me?”

“No, Demon.” Aviva nodded to the ball of black fur. “I think she and I are on the same timeline.”

Halei’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s far too many babies for one set of quarters.”

“I’ll say.” Aviva sipped her water. “Well, I promised I’d tell Cidney when either Demon’s clock went off, or mine, so…” Flicking her fingers in the familiar gestures of Sending, she announced into the air in front of her: “I’m going into labour -- and so, I think, is my cat??” She took another drink of water as she listened to the response, then promptly spat it out in a burst of manic laughter.

“What?” Halei pressed. “What did she say?”

Aviva looked up at her, her breathing laboured and her eyes watering, though whether due to joy or contractions was unclear. “‘What did Elerian do to your cat?’”

IV.

“This might be the best augment you’ve made.”

Morgan grinned, sliding into the steaming bathwater and letting out a happy sigh. “There we go. Worth it. I wasn’t using this space as a cabin anyway.”

“No?” Aviva laughed. “I guess your garden variety servitors don’t use beds.”

“These aren’t garden variety servitors,” Morgan replied haughtily. “They’re salvaged Lefeinish tech, updated with my own personal designs. They don’t make them like this in Scanderimus, no matter how good they are down there.”

Aviva humphed in acknowledgement. Morgan had spent years collecting and restoring these specimens and they ran the Highwind like clockwork -- in some cases literally, given her clock-making background. It did, however, mean that the majority of Morgan’s interactions with living people came in the form of shopping for supplies or visiting Aviva and her family. “Have you made one from scratch yet?”

“Not yet.” Morgan slouched further into the water, creating tiny ripples that lapped against Aviva’s chest. “I think I’m gonna try soon, though. I have enough small pieces to build most of the chassis, and I think I could synthesise the rest. I can do all the internal programming. After that it’s just a matter of designing the right exterior. If I’m gonna make it entirely by myself, I want it to be really special.”

“Like you?”

That caught Morgan off-guard. “I… I don’t know. I don’t think I would make it look like me, but less metallic would be interesting.” She paused. “It won’t be like me. I mean, it won’t have a spark. I was an anomaly.”

Aviva watched her, head tilted in thought. “Anomalies can happen more than once.”

Morgan slid up to her nose in the water, her white hair piled atop her head like a captive cloud, and she thought for a few long moments before coming up for air. “They can. I guess it could happen.”

“Would you like that? Is that something you would want?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” Spying Aviva’s raised eyebrow, Morgan glowered. “Okay, I’ve thought about it. I’ve wondered if there were ways for me to do it on purpose, but I don’t think there are. It’s just random. So I haven’t gotten my hopes up.” She met the Tiefling’s gaze. “But I think I would like that, if it happened.”

Aviva smiled. “I could see that being… really nice.” She grinned. “Parenting without the childbirth.”

“What, no!” Morgan squealed, water splashing as she sat up. “I wouldn’t be its parent! Maybe its teacher, or its caretaker. But I wouldn’t be giving it life, I’d just be building a vessel.”

“Mmm. Maybe.” Aviva leaned back, resting her head on the lip of the bath. “I may be relatively new at it, but that sounds an awful lot like parenting to me.”

“Maybe.” Morgan watched the ripples on the surface of the bath. “Maybe.”

V.

“Cid,” Aviva slurred, rolling her head to look lopsidedly at the Lefein at her side. “Ciiiiiiidney.”

“Mmmwhat,” Morgan responded, blinking the Tiefling into focus.

Aviva grinned brightly, if sloppily. “I’m real glad you’re here.”

Morgan reached for her bottle of wine, nearly knocking it over in the process. “I’m glad I’m here too. You know I’ll always come visit.”

“I know, but I mean, like… here.” Aviva gestured broadly with her own wine bottle. “In the world. In my life. I’m real glad you’re here.”

Spreading her arms wide, Morgan pulled Aviva into a hug, nearly tipping them both over in the process. “Me too.”

(Art by @stufflaalikes​)

[earhartsease]

The collection! I'm so happy with my collection.

Also wearing this bag in summer is a test of awareness lest the badge backs cheesegrate a nipple - but as Snoopy famously said "some of us prefer to sacrifice comfort for style"

[celestialholz]

‘A Non-Linear Perspective’, aka ya girl’s latest Qcard drabble

My new friend @tolstoyevskywrites requested a little thing last week, which I haven’t gotten round to quite yet (my baaaad), which runs a little like so:

Can I have a drabble where someone else in the crew finds out that Q and Picard are together? It can be Riker, Troi, Data, whoever you want xD

... Well, we all know I can’t answer a prompt like a normal human being at this point, right? Welcome to the madhouse, Tol - make yourself an Earl Grey, chuck, and strap in, won’t you? Because this is absolutely fucking ridiculous and I’m slightly in love with it. xD

It’s blissfully quiet, aboard this curious vessel she calls home.

It’s blissfully quiet, aboard this curious vessel she calls home. Radio silence broadcasts smoothly across the airwaves, delightfully absent of the orchestrated panic of its chief engineer; no one appears to be streaking through the outer corridors, their pointless existences in jeopardy; it’s perfectly still, not even the most microscopic of shudders trembling through the mainframe (that damned hum that her acquaintances seem so ignorant of persists, but she’s long since gotten used to that – it’s no barrier to a restful slumber). Even if her favoured person returns (time means nothing, ultimately – how long has he been gone? She doubts it’s quite long enough, in any case), he will be respectful of her weariness – after all, it’s incredibly difficult work doing so little, and there’s a reason why she so kindly tolerates him.

No, this is a rare experience indeed, and one she fully intends to appreciate. She stretches, lithe form extending itself completely for a moment, before she circles and settles, quite contentedly, atop the fleecy blanket of the bed. Its scent is mildly synthetic, accompanied by the faintest whiff of whatever was on that garish portrait across the bedroom. She closes her eyes rather deliberately against its offensiveness – honestly, all that effort for something so meaningless. Did it offer food? Entertainment? Strokes? Even the one depicted in it had seemed reluctant to praise its virtues.

She tucks into herself, drifting steadily off, the absolute tranquillity and joyful warmth permeating her completely. Perhaps she’ll dream of forests, or of crawling through Jeffries tubes, an exploratory mission of epic proportions; there’ll be mice in there somewhere, she just knows it –

Her eyes wrench open seconds before the oblivion she so craves, an obnoxious, echo-y sort of sound alerting her sensitive ears to something that appears to have been accompanied by an equally excessive flash –

She’s almost retroactively aware that she’s no longer cocooned by cosiness, and she levels her most malevolent glare and harshest snarl at the intruders as she recovers from being shoved so callously aside – how dare they, the human scum –

They’re desperately attached, mostly without clothing, scents permeating the perfectly pleasant air with biological pollution – supplement forty-six, how she hates them both! One of them wrenches back from the other, and she blinks curiously through a burning abhorrence – she knows that one. Her favourite respects him greatly – he’s important, somehow, though perfectly ordinary in appearance and aroma.

She’ll be damned to a hell of boisterous Dalmatians before she’ll defer to him, the utter bastard.

“Q!” He demands hotly. “Where the hell are we?!”

The other is significantly less tolerant of the distraction, apparently; she empathises entirely, although… she’s never seen him, but his scent – he’s not of this ship. She isn’t sure he’s of this galaxy; he smells not of confined conduits, or stress, or anything that she’s ever smelled upon another living soul. She understands these things, far better than the limited humanoids she occupies a space with, and it leads her to only one conclusion.

This is his fault. She fixes into a battle stance, glad of an official focus for her towering rage – she’s one against two, but one with one hell of a set of claws.

“Does it damned well matter, Jean-Luc? I’m slightly preoccupied – I’m sure you can empathise!” Her offender replies urgently, attempting to re-engage his companion – by the kingdom of rodents, this is more intolerable than her favourite and that other one! At least they feed her!

She flatly refuses to be ignored – grace befitting her position of superiority, she jumps back upon her rightful throne, claws itching to be extended into the neck of her usurper, glare toxic. The respected one turns to glance at her, and she releases a warning hiss for his troubles.

“Dear god,” he murmurs, eyes wide with horror. “We’re in Data and Geordi’s – what are we doing here, dammit?! Q!”

The evil one raises a brow, expression sheepish as he meets the venom of his newfound enemy; he’ll be fortunate if he has an expression left when she’s through with him.

“Ah,” he notes wryly, “I… may have been looking for a source of apathy, subconsciously. You’re rather overwhelming, mon capitan, and I imagine you’re quite partial to your galactic locality remaining intact.”

The important one’s eyes soften, much to her disgust.

“And there can be no greater apathy than a cat,” he finishes, amused. “A universal constant, apparently.”

“Oh, you’re about to discover exactly how apathetic I can be, humanoid wretch!”

She launches with planned spontaneity, at the most calculated moment, when the atrocity of a man will least expect it – he will pay, dearly, for his disturbance of her precious rest. She’s inches from his chest, claws extended fully, her very blood singing with the need for vengeance –

“Yes, no.”

The dismissive snap of his tone is followed swiftly by one from his fingers, and she never reaches her target. She’s left in situ, dangling precariously, the hateful gaze she’s directing at him returned almost as fiercely.

“I know you think you’re one, dear feline,” he spits, “but I actually am a god.”

“Q, let her go,” the other bites out coolly. He goes to protest, but thinks better of it; she’s released from the mystical prison of stillness, and she hisses bitterly for good measure.

“I will have my vengeance.” Her meow is pure rage as she realises she’s once again off the damned bed.

“Of course you will,” he drawls at her, unconcerned. “I trust you’ll keep your own counsel, furbag.”

Furbag?! The utter nerve! Her favourite had told her only earlier how pretty she was! Her grooming routine put felines the quadrant over to shame, the despicable –

“She’s hardly going to plough us through the ship’s gossip mill, Q,” the important one comments dryly, facing his companion with softness. “I assume you’ll be more cautious where you direct your apathy in future, however?”

She takes a moment from her current schedule of comprehensive incandescence to marvel at how the face of evil can look so warm.

“I shall endeavour to be a paragon of subtlety, my dear.”

They’re there one second, and she’s almost wrapped up her plan of sweet, sweet revenge; she’s sneaking cautiously, the very image of stealth, around the smooth fabric of the bedding, her movements gloriously quiet – he’ll rue every damned word –

She arrives back on the duvet just as they vanish with that same stupid noise and blinding flash, and she shrieks a hiss of pure fury.

“I’m telling everyone, you wait!” She screams. “Your empires shall crumble beneath my wrath!”

She flops, outraged, to the covering, starting at the sudden weight to her left; she flips up instantly, high on alert, and sniffs curiously.

… Oh. That’s supplement seventy-three, the one her favourite’s never quite managed to synthesise properly since that first wondrous occasion. Its aroma is divine, though the most intriguing snatch of eternity glimmers around it. Deciding to obey the will of her stomach rather than her natural caution, she tucks in with gusto, devouring it as though the soul of the victim that’s maddeningly disappeared.

She’ll get the bastard, one day – however delicious his pitiful offering was.

[marchofthekillerqueens]

Queen Album Reviews: Hot Space (1982)

Well, we had to get here eventually I suppose. 

Title: The title doesn’t make me mad, but it’s not as creative as some of their previous efforts. 6/10

Album Cover: The cover really isn’t bad, although I’m not sure why John only has one eye, and why Brian is particularly detailed in comparison to the others. 7/10

Staying Power: I think this is going to be a theme with a lot of the songs on this album, but it’s just far to syth heavy, the music sounds artificial and that makes is sound inauthentic and lazy. In addition, the overuse of synthesisers in the song really doesn't add anything to the song. As is the case with a lot of this album it just doesn’t sound like Queen. Freddie said it best within this song when he sang trash, trash, trash. 3/10

Dancer: The song isn’t actually bad, the first verse and chorus are actually okay, however the song just fails to evolve, it remains very one note to the extent where even Brians solo (again produced using a synthesiser...why) fails to spark any new life to the song. It’s an improvement on Staying Power for sure but thats about all. 4/10

Back Chat: I really like that it’s just blatantly John’s diss track to Brian. The lyrics themselves aren't bad, but it’s far too repetitive for me, and again doesn't sound distinctly different from Dancer or Staying Power. 4/10

Body Language: Listening to the song I’m realising that a lot of my issue with this song is the fact I hate the video. Whilst the song certainly isn’t great, listening to it independent of the video really helps. 4/10

Action This Day: One I like! The song has a different feel to the rest of the album, which is perhaps not unsurprising when you realise Roger wrote the song and was opposed to the general feel to the album. Whilst I still feel the song could’ve done without the drum machine and the heavy use of synthesisers it feels slightly more natural than the albums previous efforts. 6/10

Put Out the Fire: I like that they wrote a song about gun control and the intent behind the song certainly earns them some respect, however I just dont really care for the song. 4/10

Life is Real (Song for Lennon): Again, another one where the intent behind the song is great and all, but the song just doesn’t captivate me. I feel that it certainly isn’t one of Freddie’s strongest efforts in terms of writing. 3/10

Calling All Girls: Oh look! Rog is back and providing some much needed respite from some of the other songs on this album! I genuinely like this song, which is something I can only say of around 3 songs on this album. 7/10

Las Palabras de Amor (The Words of Love): Just like Teo Torriatte before it, a song inspired by their fans, this time in Argentina I believe. It’s a much gentler song and feels like more heart and effort went into it than most of the first half of the album. 6/10

Cool Cat: I just find this song to be... boring? I really don’t have anything special to say about this song. It’s lovely that Freddie sings it in falsetto but for me it just doesn’t work. 3/10

Under Pressure: Finally a song I can get fully on board with! I love this song. I think its lyrically fantastic, and we don’t even need to get into that bass line. i adore Bowie so pairing him with Queen is just a dream come true for me. This song slaps live too, Roger really adapts to Bowies lines well, he’s said he struggles with that in the past because its a little too low for him but I think it sounds great! 10/10

Overall Average: 5.1/10  Songs Only: 4.9/10