#filled with bluesy pain

[sacredstarcatcher]

Cruel Summer - Part 5

Jake & Sam x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, angst, Hozier, voyeurism, unprotected sex.

Happy Monday everyone. :) My ask box is open for thoughts/questions/concerns/inspiration as this series continues!

When you finally make your way to the wedding, the two of you arrive 17 minutes early exactly despite the late start. You explain the importance of being early to weddings to Jake while you walk at a quick pace towards the venue. He trails behind at a normal speed, taking in his surroundings of the gardens from behind his sunglasses. 

As you enter, there are two rows of open chairs near the middle of the ceremony venue, so you decide to sit at the end of the back row and save the rest of the spots for his brothers and Danny.

The two of you get comfortable, casually commenting on the decor and watching guests enter, when you feel Jake place a warm hand on your bare thigh where it’s exposed from the slit of the dress. You can’t help but look down in confusion, then back up at his handsome side profile. It was extremely out of character for him to show any kind of PDA, but before you can get a word out to question it, Josh, Danny, Sammy, and his girlfriend walk in. 

You turn politely over your shoulder to greet them all with a wave as they come and sit in the row in front of you. Nausea and dread fill your gut as Sammy’s eyes dart to Jake’s hand on your leg, but he quickly and casually averts his gaze, pulling his date under his arm and guiding her to her seat. He’s dressed in a red suit, the cuffs and accents a contrasting black to the sanguine velvet of his jacket and pants. You feel sick watching them together after what happened between you two. You’re not sure if it’s jealousy or guilt, but either way, you’d rather be anywhere else.

As if to torture you, his date turns around to exchange pleasantries with Jake and Josh. Sam turns slightly, listening, observing. Your stare has to be burning holes into him as you literally cannot pull your eyes off of his bright red ensemble. It’s too bad he’s either unaware or ignoring you all the while. You’re not trying to flaunt Jake in front of him, but you’re almost positive that’s how he’s taken the public display of affection.

Throughout the ceremony, it feels like all you can do is watch Sam and his girlfriend interact. You notice a few things throughout the duration. The first and foremost being that she obviously doesn’t want to be here.

The second being the way they’re avoiding each other. At one point she reaches for his arm, but he remains still and doesn’t reciprocate. He doesn’t seem to act like the Sam you’ve come to know. A twinge of guilt passes through you- he’s been more physical with you lately than he seems to be with his own girlfriend. 

The third is that he’s still sad, and that breaks your heart straight down the middle. 

The ceremony ends and you all make your way to cocktail hour. It moves along mostly pain-free, as you stand at a high-top table with Jake and catch up about his recent time away in New York. You keep your back to the rest of the group, trying to keep from staring at the trainwreck that is Sam and his date.

The reception is in a beautiful, ornate, dimly lit room. The wedding’s dark colors and bluesy atmosphere feel like home to you. You think back to the evening you met Jake, joining him and Josh at that small table in the back of your Nashville dive. He seems to have the same thought as the band plays a familiar tune and he reaches for your hand, asking you to dance. It feels so nostalgic that you can’t say anything but yes.

You take his hand and follow him out onto the dance floor, gliding into his embrace as he rocks back and forth with you, his left hand in your right, his other arm around your waist. 

“You really do look absolutely stunning tonight,” he compliments, and you blush under his gaze. 

“Thank you. You look devilishly handsome, as usual.” You push a piece of his long hair behind his ear. “But how can you see in this dark ass room with your sunglasses on?”

“All I need to see is right in front of me,” he flirts, and you roll your eyes at the over-the-top flattery. You fall into comfortable silence for a while until the mix of your hurt feelings over seeing Sam and the three glasses of champagne make you feel braver than you have in a while. It’s you that disturbs the quiet first. 

“Jake. What are we doing?” 

In his typical Jake fashion, he’s cool, calm, and collected despite the loaded question you just lobbed at him. “Dancing, love.”

 “You know what I mean!” You can’t help but let your head fall back and groan at his smartassery. “How long am I going to be the girl that doesn’t get to spend the night?” You know you sound a little worked up, but it’s only because it’s taken you the last 2.5 months to gain the courage to ask. And you’re under the influence at a wedding, where romantic tension between everyone who isn’t married or even dating is high, so that’s not helping. 

“As long as you want to be.” His answer is short and simple  as he lifts his arm and spins you underneath like a ballerina; like it’s all some sort of joke to him. 

“And what happens when I’ve had enough?” you prod, tilting your head, honestly questioning him as he pulls you back into his sturdy embrace.

“Then I guess you can stay the night. However, you should know I snore like a freight train.” You’re at the point where you’re not finding it funny anymore.

“Not literally, Jake. You know what I mean.” You’re a little more tense now as the two of you continue swaying to the wedding band’s song.

“If you want an actual answer, you have to ask the actual question.” He’s still so unphased by it all that you can’t help but feel like you’re not going to like what you hear. 

“Are you ever going to introduce me as more than your date? Will you ever hold my hand instead of walking behind me like you don’t know me?” The questions were incredibly heavy as they hung in the air above you both. “Will I ever be more than a convenient fuck for you?” you ask, this time your voice taking on a sad timbre. Jake seems to think for a moment before sighing and leveling with you. 

“I’m not exactly interested in… settling down or committing to anything right now. And I have to be honest, I don’t know when I will be.” He’s genuine now, looking at your eyes over the stupid glasses on his face. 

“We’re going to be touring for another few years. It just doesn’t make sense for me right now.” All you can do is accept, nodding gently. “But hey.” He crouches a bit to catch your downcast eyes. “It’s not about wanting to fuck other people. I’m not seeing anyone else. You’re free to explore your options if that’s something you’re looking to do. You know. Settle down. House and a dog and all that.” He smiles gently at you, continuing to rock you to the bluesy tune in the background. “But it’s not like that.”

“Well that’s… good to know,” you say with a sad smile as the song slows to an end. 

“I have fun with you,” he says, as if it’s a consolation. The kiss he presses to your lips is met with almost no enthusiasm. You politely break from him to head to the table and get your drink.

As you’re walking to your seat, you spot Sam and his date bickering in the corner. It’s like a trainwreck you can’t look away from as they tensely converse while the rest of the reception moves around them. Eventually the storms off, and when his gaze finds yours it feels like time is frozen. You look at him and hope he can feel the heaviness in your gaze. I wish things were different.

He stays where he is, running a hand through your hair. You’re still stuck standing behind your chair, not sure what to do with yourself. You feel magnetically drawn to him, but he asked for space, so you can’t will yourself to move from where you’re frozen. Your spiral is startled by an abrupt change in volume from the stage. 

You turn to see Jake donning the wedding band’s guitar, the usual player making a beeline to the bar himself. Jake strums a few times, trying to get familiar with a guitar that’s not his own tried and true Gibson. A scan of the stage reveals the groom is at the mic dedicating the song to his bride. You smile up at the stage as the drummer clicks his sticks in a countoff. 

“Jackie and Wilson,” you murmur after the first few notes. 

Time is moving too fast as Sam walks to approach you. He offers his hand wordlessly and you accept, following him to the center of the dance floor.

You all but fall into Sam’s embrace, hands shaking, knees threatening to buckle. He pulls you in closer, but not too close, no matter how badly you wish you were pressed against him. It’s hard not to blush as he looks down at you, but you try to play it completely cool.

“Hi,” you say casually as he takes your hand in his. 

“Hi,” he answers, his boyish voice reverberating in your heart. “You look lovely.” The tension is already palpable 30 seconds into your interaction.

“You look very handsome yourself,” answer with dignity, squeezing his hand once quickly. He lets out a chuckle as his other hand finds your lower back.

“How much champagne have you had?” he chides jokingly, subtly turning you around so your back is to Jake. That, however, has moved you directly into his date’s line of sight as she’s dancing with Josh on the other side of the room. You offer a kind smile her way and she returns it, her firetruck red lips pursed together as if it’s ingenuine. The potential guilt you should be feeling is squashed as you look away and back into Sam’s eyes, seeing his mood improve for the first time tonight.

“You liquor drinkers left your toasting glasses unattended. What else was I supposed to do?” You decide it’s safer to avoid the subject of his crumbling relationship or your accidental kiss and continue the small talk. 

“It only takes three glasses of champagne for you to find me handsome,” he says, puffing out his chest with pride. “I think that’s pretty good.” Your eyes are bleary from the alcohol as you look up at his stupid, smug, kissable face and remember the way his lips feel against yours. It’s truly taking everything in you not to pull him in by the lapels of his jacket and kiss him until he can’t see straight. 

“I think you know that’s not true,” you flirt, your attempt at ignoring the situation falling flat. 

You’re briefly nervous that you’ve offended him, crossing the line he drew between you again, but then you see his heartstopping smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges, his slightly imperfect teeth shining for the first time that night. He doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t have to. All he does is pull you closer; close enough that you can’t keep staring into his eyes that feel so much like home, but everything feels right again once he starts singing along with the band.

“She’s gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair. She’ll know me crazy, soothe me daily, better yet she wouldn’t care.” 

He lets go of your hand and encourages you to spin under his arm. You step out, keeping your fingers linked with his as you turn. He pulls you back in and you continue swaying with him as he sings. 

“You okay?” he asks, sensing your inner turmoil. You sigh and look up at the ceiling, letting out a defeated laugh. 

“I’m not. But I will be.” His thumb absentmindedly moves back and forth where his hand rests on your back, gently consoling you as much as he probably can. A few beats of silence pass before he decides to address the elephant in the room. 

“If he’s not treating you right, you should break things off,” he says, giving you a spoonful of hypocritical advice you didn’t ask for. 

“Says the one who was just publicly arguing with his girlfriend in the middle of a wedding reception?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I feel like you’re not really in a position to give me relationship advice as of late.” 

He gives a slight laugh at that, nodding in agreement. It’s quiet between the two of you for a moment as the song plays on. 

“Listen. I know we’re supposed to regret what happened the other day. But I don’t.” You’re drunk on champagne and Sam and now there’s no turning back from what you just said. 

He begins to answer but you place a finger to his lips, giving him a tipsy shush. “Don’t. We don’t have to talk about it. But I just… I just need you to know. I didn’t kiss you because I was lonely or bored or confused. I did it because I like spending time with someone who cares about me and the things I do. You made me realize what I want and I can’t be mad at you for not reciprocating my feelings, because you still helped me.” You sigh, feeling the incredible weight lifted off your shoulders. “I’m sorry. But please don’t say anything. I can’t take being rejected by two of you in one night. I just wanted you to know.” 

He glares down at you, humorous disbelief all over his face. 

“I can’t say anything?” he asks with a knowing lilt to his voice, and you shake your head with a smirk. It’s then that the song slows to an end sooner than you would have liked. You all clap for Jake as he gives a wave of thanks and hands the guitar to its rightful owner.

“Okay,” he says, as if he’s got something to tell you, but you think the second blow to your self esteem mixed with the bubbly would send you home early in a fit of tears. You let go of his hand and turn to watch as Jake comes down off the stage,  approaching his younger brother and giving him a hearty slap on the back.

“Hope you were nice to my girl,” Jake says, pulling you close by the waist and kissing you on the cheek. Sam nods with a polite smile.

“Always am,” he responds under his breath, but you’re already pulling out of Jake’s grasp, still left feeling sour after your discussion earlier. 

“Not your girl,” you say, giving Jake a poke in the chest before walking off towards the bar to finally get yourself a drink.

-oOo-

The formal dinner ends and the afterparty begins, the smaller group of close friends (and those with the stamina to party harder somehow) moving into the saloon-esque basement of the impressive venue. The lights are dim, the liquor is flowing, and there’s a pool table. As usual, you see the four boys readying themselves for a few games. You, instead, take a trip to the bar and have a chat with the bride, complimenting her stunning dress from earlier and the one she’s in now. By the end of the conversation, she’s ordering you both tequila shots. 

Feeling warm and happy and a little too drunk to be the DD, you decide to order an ice water and make your way back to the pool table, standing by to watch them play. You look around and notice that Sam’s girlfriend is nowhere to be found.

Eventually Jake beats Sam at pool, letting out a macho grunt of celebration before pulling you in for a big kiss. The alcohol in your brain mixed with your conflicting feelings for both him and his brother have left you touch starved and in need of attention. You find yourself hungrily accepting his full lips and savoring the taste of his tongue in front of the entire room, tangling your hands in his hair. After a few seconds, you stop yourself from melting into him and come back to earth, pulling away nervously. You take a second to scrutinize his face, making sure he is who you think he is. Your vision clears before blurring again and you confirm.

He pulls you closer to him by the waist as he yells over your shoulder at someone else, joking loudly. His scarred forearm is around you, his talented hand splayed across your back. You scan the room over your shoulder with drunken eyes and can’t help but catch Sam’s. He’s lounging in a tacky, floral high back chair with his long legs stretched out over one arm. His sanpaku eyes lazily make their way from your face down your body to where Jake’s hand rests and below. He drags them back up to yours and wiggles his fingers lazily in a hidden wave, giving a sneaky smile. You roll your eyes, turning around and clinging to Jake, resting your head on his shoulder, hoping it makes Sam even just the slightest bit jealous. 

You boldly bury your head in Jake’s neck, biting and sucking gently just once at the skin right above his collarbone. It elicits a heavy exhale from him, and you can hear in his too-loud words being sent across the room that it’s tripped him up. He moves to swiftly end the conversation and cups your cheek, pulling your glazed eyes to look at him.

“Have you been drinking tequila, miss?” he chides quietly, a knowing smirk on his face. You blush and give a small, mischievous smile while he holds your face in his hands. 

“Maybe.” You nuzzle against his hand and it earns you a chuckle from him, eating up the attention.

You can’t even bring yourself to look at what Sam may be up to until Jake pulls you into his lap, sitting on one of the leather sofas in the saloon across from his brother.

He’s still sitting where you saw him last, his eyebrows raised, clearly thrown off by your behavior. You bat your eyelashes innocently at him, almost remorseful that he’s not the one driving you to such depravity.

Jake shifts underneath you as he chats with the groom sitting nearby, discussing some album you’ve probably never listened to in excruciating detail. You take an opportunity to wiggle a bit in his grasp and he hugs you closer.

Then things get a little more interesting, because at the sight of Jake’s hands on your body, drunk Sam’s interest is piqued. He watches with hazy, drunken eyes, his gaze unwavering. Jake’s warm hand slides down to your thigh, grabbing tightly past the slit of your dress.

Feeling bold and drunk, you make a show of shifting your hips in Jake’s lap with a slow, sensual roll as you pull your hair over your shoulder to expose your skin to him. Behind you, Jake is just as (if not more) intoxicated, careless and handsy, completely unbothered by the others that are around. 

You hold direct eye contact with Sam as Jake starts to place soft, wet kisses on the side of your neck. Your eyelids flutter but you maintain his gaze. Jake drags his hand up your thigh slowly, his fingertips grazing just high enough that your lips part slightly in surprise, and if it wasn’t so fucking loud in there, Sam might have heard the small moan you let out. You see him swallow thickly as his eyes finally move from yours and trail past your chest, down your torso to your hips and thighs, where just enough of your soft skin is exposed and in his older brother’s hand. 

The thought of it makes you feel fuzzy. You can’t help but smirk when his eyes flick back up to meet yours, caught in the act. Turning your head, you capture Jake in a kiss. You can feel he’s watching closely, so you make a show of biting Jake’s lower lip. It pushes Jake just a hair too far, dragging a moan out of him before he breaks from the kiss. 

“You’re going to ruin a pair of perfectly nice pants,” he whispers into your hair as he pulls you back to lean against his chest. You’re still stuck in a staring contest with Sam, who now has a pink tint to his cheeks. You nod gently at Jake as he continues to whisper some vulgar nonsense in your ear, your face flushed and lips swollen. You probably look like a ridiculous mess- your hair in loose curls, your makeup surely smudged, and your dress riding up. 

Your eyes are narrowed at Sam as you grind down on Jake’s lap once more, searching for some kind of relief, staring as if he’s anything but useless all the way across the room. You furrow your brow in frustration as you squirm, knowing just what you need, Jake’s fingers drag along your inner thigh again before this time grazing the hem of your panties, and your breath hitches. Sam quickly looks down to Jake’s hands, then back up at your face. He has an almost sinful smirk on his lips as he gives an upward nod, daring you to go further. You accept the challenge, shifting your left leg just enough to part your thighs and let him see up the skirt of your dress. His eyes immediately find your center and see the wet spot formed there before he looks up at your guilty, wanton face. Seconds after you lock eyes, the tension in the entire room snaps and Josh beats Danny at the game of pool they were apparently still playing. 

The room is no longer moving in slow motion. Everyone jumps and looks up from what they were doing to cheer as Danny heads to the bar and Josh shouts of his victory. Everything is moving so much faster than before that you’re taken off guard, disoriented, lost. Josh is handing Jake a shot over your shoulder. You take the hint to stand as Jake moves towards the bar, now unsure of where to go or what to do, so you head into the bathroom, realizing you’re sobering up and need to get yourself together.

You take a moment to splash some water on your face to combat the heat between your legs. Once you’re back outside, you see that Jake and Josh are now battling each other. You take in the sight before you, Jake absolutely shitfaced and attempting to play pool against his twin, and have to laugh. You scan the room for Sam, but he’s nowhere to be found. As if he could read your mind, you feel a warm hand on your lower back. The two of you are hidden away in a dark corner of the room, so you whip around to see him. 

“Nice show you put on back there,” he says at a normal volume. You give him the most genuine puzzled look you can muster. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.” You shoot a look over your shoulder keeping an eye on what’s happening at the party, but when you turn back to Sam, he grabs you by the wrist and starts down the hallway at a speed you struggle to keep up with. You hurry to pick up your dress, trying not to trip in your heels.

“Where are we going?!” you yell with a laugh, but he shushes you, still pulling you along. Your shoes are so loud on the hard floor as you clamber after him you’re sure someone can hear you.

“Sam!” you whisper-shout, and he stops short in front of the unmarked door you’re passing. When he tries the handle, it’s unlocked. He opens it and flips on the light, bathing the room in warm light. You take in your surroundings as he pulls you inside and shuts the door behind you, locking it. There’s a chaise lounge and a few half finished bottles of champagne scattered around the room. A look to the opposite corner tells you you’re in the bridal suite- there’s her gown hanging over the mirror on a hanger bent into her new last name.

“What are we-” you begin to ask, but you’re cut off as Sam pulls you against him, his lips crashing into yours. You let out a throaty moan, finally getting to taste him again. God, how you missed him.

“Sam, wait,” you whine, gently pushing at his shoulders. He breaks from the kiss but carries on, kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands wandering to palm your ass over your dress.

“What about- oh!” You’re silenced again by a love bite, his tongue sweeping out to soothe your skin immediately.

“I ended things,” he says against your skin, and you pull his face up to look at you.

“Are you serious?” you ask, and he nods once, a devilish grin on his face.

“As a heart attack,” he quips before he guides you to the chaise. “Now get on your back.”  You scurry to the seat as he shrugs off his red blazer, adjusting your gown so it’s covering your legs. 

“Why so shy now?” he asks, approaching and lifting the chiffon from where it’s covering you. His eyes make their way up your legs before he swoops in between them, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. 

“I tried to tell you, stubborn girl.” His mouth is so warm on your chest as he kisses and sucks on every bit of skin accessible to him. You’re sure this is a dream. You’re certain that you fell and hit your head on the dance floor and this is a concussion induced hallucination.

“I didn’t know,” you say quietly as he sits up on his heels to slip off your panties.

“Maybe if you would have listened, I wouldn’t have had to watch you give my fucking brother a lap dance, huh?” he says, the Sammy you know shining through with a quiet laugh. You bite your lip, shaking your head while you watch him undo his black belt, his red pants falling to reveal he’s in black briefs, straining against them. 

You’re silent for a moment as your eyes register what you’re looking at. He’s got a smug smile on his face, his eyelids heavy with lust as he looks between your face and your exposed core.

“I wanna know exactly what you’re thinking,” he says, an arrogant tone in his voice. You shake your head, reaching for him.

“Tell me. I wanna hear you say it.”  He pulls the briefs down and comes down to kiss you, placing two gentle kisses on your cheeks as he strokes himself beneath you. “Bigger, right?” 

You try to hide your smile from him as he looks down at you, but it’s proving to be incredibly difficult. “Sam, please,” you whine, covering your face in embarrassment, needing him inside you.

“Nice,” he says with pride in an unbelievable display of youngest sibling energy. You finally feel him against you and buck your hips, more than ready for him to get on with it now that the contest is over.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about foreplay,” he begins, running himself between your folds. “Seems like you’re nice and wet after letting my brother finger you in front of the entire fucking after party.” You wish you had it in you to respond with something bratty, but he’s pushing into you before your brain has a chance to formulate a sentence. The delicious feeling of him leaves you speechless, your mouth agape.

“Nothing to say?” he says, bottoming out inside you. He’s right. No words come out of you. What does come out however is an absolutely vulgar moan as you stare at where your bodies are meeting. Your hand finds the back of his neck to pull him down to you for a kiss, your tongue finding his, desperate to taste every inch of him, starting here. 

“That’s what I thought,” he grunts out through gritted teeth. He sets a hypnotizing pace, just slow enough to make sure you feel every inch of him inside you. His impressive size has cleared every thought from your brain as he grazes the sweetest spot inside you with every thrust; as if he was made for you. You’d be lying if you said you’d ever felt anything like him before. 

Sam pushes up onto his knees, the angle he’s thrusting at now making you see stars. His hands find your shins and push your legs back into you, spreading them further, knowing exactly what the delicious curve of his body is doing to you. You begin to unravel, your hips desperately bucking to meet him, needing more of him.

“Should I let you cum? Or should I send you home with your whiskey dick boyfriend, all wound up with no relief?” You weren’t sure if he was serious or not, but regardless you weren’t ready to risk it. 

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” you cry out in frustration, your voice cracking. “Please Sammy make me cum. Please.” He chuckles at your desperation, gracing you with the delight of his thumb to sweep across your clit, making light work of your orgasm. You’re so close, you hold tight to his wrist, praying he won’t pull away. “I’m so close,” you whisper, your body tensing up, back arching. You want to cry when he slows his pace just the slightest bit.

“You’re not gonna go home and fuck my brother are you?” There are tears threatening in your water line as you look up at him, begging him for mercy with your mascara smudged eyes.

“No, no no no. I promise Sammy. Please,” you beg, your nails leaving half moons on the delicate skin of his forearm. He hums in satisfaction, more than pleased with your desperate response.

“C’mon then,” he says, the cockiness back and dripping from his every pore. His smug attitude is just enough to send you over the edge, squeezing and gushing around him. He leans down to give you a delicious taste of his lips again, his pace slowing in an attempt not to stop your heart, or at least you think. He slows to a stop, his lips still against yours, so sweet you don’t want to taste anything else ever again, so long as you both shall live. You’re heartbroken when he breaks away, pulling out of you and whispering against your lips, “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You follow his instructions immediately, gently getting to your knees, your gown pooling around you. Watching through your long lashes as he strokes himself, you can’t help but open your mouth and present your tongue to him. Sam lets out a low groan at the sight, his brows creasing together and lips parting so beautifully you think there’s no possible way he’s real. But he is, and he’s yours, and you swallow up every drop he gives you as if it will never be enough. 

After he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, he offers his palm to help you up. You smile sheepishly at him as he kisses the back of your hand before pulling you in. He holds your head tight against his chest, resting his own on top of it.

“I wanted to do it right, you know. Buy you flowers, make you dinner, ask you to go steady. All the things you deserve.” 

You laugh, nuzzling against him. “You like me? I thought this was a rebound.” 

He groans at your antics, placing a firm kiss to the crown of your head. Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as he holds you tight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I didn’t really know what to do. It’s not every fucking day you fall for your bother’s girlfriend while you’re searching for reasons to break up with your own.”

“Not my boyfriend,” you add in, mumbling against his chest. 

“Alright, come on.” He releases you, leaning over to pick up his suit jacket from the chair where it was thrown. You take the opportunity to fix your hair and wipe your eyes, not looking nearly as good as you did at the beginning of the night, but still good enough that nobody will be able to tell what just transpired. The two of you walk down the hall hand in hand and prepare to enter the afterparty undetected. 

Taglist: @reesetrippingthelight@samstopochico@jordie-gvf-admin@jakesgrapejuice@spark-my-nature@gvfcinema

Part 6

[chorusfm]

Brian May + Friends – Star Fleet Project

When Queen first took a break in the early part of 1983, Brian May decided to use this extra time in his hands to get some of his closest rock band friends for what would become the Star Fleet Project. This mini-album features Edward Van Halen (guitar), Alan Gratzer (drums), Phil Chen (bass) and Fred Mandel (keyboards), with May taking the reins of lead vocals and guitar for a crowd-pleasing set of three songs that have been reissued on a remastered vinyl collection released today. In addition to the vinyl single, the box set includes a thrilling 23-track CD filled with previously unreleased material. Brian May shared, “It’s all here. ALL of it. Every note we played on those two days is right here, on show for the first time. I will take you behind the scenes into that studio with us for two unforgettably exhilarating days.” This dedication to the project that took place on April 21-22, 1983 is remastered in pain-staking detail and care, and pulls back the curtain on one of the most beloved classic rock recordings of all time. The record launches off with “Star Fleet,” that has a sound somewhere between the classic rock sheen of Boston, paired with the memorable guitar riffing from May. Brian May’s vocals sound as brilliant as they’ve ever been on this remastered mix and it really makes the music shine out of the gate. The other song on the A-side, called “Let Me Out,” is a bluesy rock song that is sure to make even the most skeptical music fan a believer in the chemistry May had with these legendary musicians. Not to be outdone by their early work, the back half features a gargantuan, 13-minute blues rock song on the aptly titled “Blues Breaker,” that further highlights the impressive back and forth wailing between Van Halen and May. Even without any vocals on the instrumental closing song, it remains a captivating listening experience that was meant to be played on a turntable in all its glory. The Star Fleet Sessions is getting another worthy moment in the sun, and I think we’re all better off because of this. --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/reviews/brian-may-friends-star-fleet-project/

[the-masked-ram]

Tripping on You- Aomine x Reader

A/N: This fic was influenced by Running on Sunshine- Jesus Jackson

CW: Spicey but not nsfw, adult language, song influenced, terrible karaoke vibes, alcohol, cliche scenes, descriptive kissing, dirty talk, mature themes

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Aomine was a jerk, he was lazy, and he had the filthiest mouth. But he also was incredibly hard on himself, he desperately tried to find something to live for, and was endlessly loyal. It was annoying, this crush you had on him, this painful hitch in your chest that would happen every time he stepped into your space. He’d breathe from across the room and your hair would raise on your arms. He’d laugh and you thought the sun was brightening to the point of blinding. When did you become such a hopeless romantic?

  This man was beyond hope. He never seemed to find the energy for anything but basketball games. Even then, if he deemed the opponent worthless, he wouldn’t even give the match half his attention. So why did you find your eyes straying to him in class, while he took a nap under the professor’s nose? Why did you chew your poor pencils’ erasers to nubs daydreaming of conversations you would never have enough confidence to start? Perhaps it was just that, perhaps it was just because you were a dreamer, and he was that unreachable height.

Tonight, it wasn’t hard to zero in on him in the crowd since you always were hyper aware of him. The bar that served the university’s campus was a regular hang out for the basketball team, but also a usual decompression place for you and your friends after a heavy study session. Karaoke was always good to let loose with.

It was filled with poor singers and that occasional pop of welcome surprise. Sometimes there was someone that had a voice of gold, that could capture the audience’s attention. But it was worth all the bad and the average to eat the amazing fries with that stupidly good garlicky sauce and get so trashed on half-way decent beer that even the worst singers sounded amazing.

It was about the atmosphere and your friends. Maybe a little about, the eye candy of Aomine just a few tables away and knowing he would be there almost every Friday night as well.

You couldn’t complain, not really, especially when he stepped up to the mic. Though, you couldn’t call his voice the best, there was an alluring rasp to it that became addictive when he chose the right songs. It seemed to fit the bluesy rock tracks, sometimes the occasional jazz or alternative number. Either way you were too far gone into you third mug of beer and probably second basket of fries. Everything sounded amazing now.

You were probably staring a bit too hard and that’s probably why he glanced at your little quiet part of the bar. Even from the distance he somehow caught you metaphorically, or maybe literally, drooling all over him. And damn him, because his lips tipped into a smug smirk.

You weren’t sure if the way your stomach fluttered was from embarrassment or fear, but you quickly dropped your gaze, no longer able to stare at his alluring blue eyes. Then the song hit the hook, and his voice flowed, it snagged you again, causing you to meet his stare straight on once more. He was still looking at you and the cock-eyed slant to lips just helped slur his words a bit more, emphasized that pussy-wetting growl in his throat.

His foot tapped to the beat and head nodded, and as the bridge happened, he ran the tip of tongue half-way along his upper lip. Every movement was hypnotizing, possibly calculated, and your head spun under his watchfulness. He stood from the stool he’d been perched on, and slunk through the crowd of catcalling bargoers, stalking up to you smoothly like a panther. The hunger and amusement shimmering in the depths of his eyes had your pinned meekly to your spot even though you shifted desperately, aching to run and hide.

It was cheesy and cliché, something you probably would have joked at, while secretly burning on the inside when not drunk. However right now you were teetering on the edge of just a bit too tipsy, and there was no pretending the way he hunted you down nor how the gluttony with which he watched you was soaking your panties. The traitorous butterflies were swarming not only your stomach but up your throat and you felt like you were suffocating as you dreamed of creaming under his tongue.

A suggestive line had him purring into the microphone, his fingers found you when he stopped directly in front of you and traced a barely noticeable line up your bicep to your shoulder, across your clavicle and lingered lovingly around your throat as you swallowed hard. He tilted your face up to him since it had drifted down when you tried to catch sight of wandering hand.

‘Watch me,’ he mouthed between words.

He really didn’t even have to tell you because your eyes were glued to his broad shoulders as he sauntered back to the stage. A hint of his teeth showed while he finished, and you couldn’t tell if you were sad or relieved when he sang the last chord. Certain that your panties were ruined, you made some excuse to your all too understanding friends and scrambled to stand. You practically ran to the door.

You reached your car with a soft sigh and started fishing for your keys.

“You’re really too drunk to drive. Besides I gave you a damn great show, it’s rude to run out, ya know?”

 You shivered as the deep baritone rolled over your spine and you whispered a prayer that the moment you turned around, he wouldn’t be slouched there with a petulant frown on his face. Your prayer went unanswered. There he stood, tall form sloped far further than it should be and tantalizing lower lip pushed out in a pathetic wobble.

 “Please, Aomine, don’t even try. You are far too tall to pull puppy eyes off,” you rolled your eyes even though your stomach flared with nerves.

A smirk curved his lips quickly and he drew back up to his full height. He tilted his head, and his eyes ate at you, as if he couldn’t wait to taste what stood in front of him. Like he was starving, and you were the best thing on the menu.

“Really though, running out when I sang for ya. What a way to hurt a guy’s feelings,” he said teasingly.

“Sorry, I just have some things to do,” you murmured, eyes darting traitorously to the side. 

“Do ya now?” he said, matching your volume but his voice turned so much deeper, so much richer like a thick coating of molasses and it had you taking an unconscious step back until your car met your ass. 

 Aomine was quick to close the distance, not caging you in, but pressing into your space and with his height it made you tilt your head up. You swallow hard as the scent of musky sweat, alcohol, and some sort of spicey cologne made your head spin. 

 “I notice,” he whispered, his words dropping even lower until you had to almost lean in and that ever present growl in his voice almost vibrated through you. 

“Notice what?” you breathed, blinking up at him. His fingers caught your chin, almost floating against your skin and you sighed, trying not to lean into the warmth of his touch.

“The way ya look at me. Always following me with those damn eyes, so fuckin’ tempting,” he slurred and when you met his gaze you noticed the way his eyelids drooped, and a flame of lust twinkled brightly in his widening pupils.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, a kneejerk reaction. 

“Didn’t say I minded,” he leaned in, fingers tightening just slightly until they slid around the curve of your jaw. “Just stay focused on me, yeah?” 

When his lips pressed against yours, you tasted the mind-bending flavor of beer and a mint he’d obviously been sucking. It was strange, his breath mixing with yours, a dream you never thought you’d reach. You whimpered as his tongue flicked confidently against your skin, pushing until he tilted your head farther up and you gasped automatically, he was quick to take advantage. 

The kiss was all harsh and messy licks, pressure as he traced your teeth, and slipped against your tongue. You responded with one hand fisting itself in the shirt on his chest and the other grabbing onto his bicep. You met him stroke for stroke, a moan crawling up your throat, forcing him to push harder, fuck his tongue into your mouth slower and with more control. His palm moved from your jaw to the back of your skull, the other slipping around your waist to drag your closer to him, and make you literally bend to his will. 

You sighed when he pulled away and he looked at you with eyes that reflected your face back like a black mirror, “I’ve been tripping on you for a while. Been waiting for this. Been fuckin’ holding back for so long.” He breathed and then frowned at the car waiting behind you, “But you still ain’t driving home. You are so fuckin’ drunk.” 

You laughed and couldn’t stop because it was all just so crazy. This dream that you’d been chasing for so long, that you’d been staring at and just accepted to never have, now held you like you were the most precious gem in the world. All because you couldn’t stop staring. 

---Taglist

@crowned-peony

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[bobdylanrevisited]

Blood On The Tracks

Released: 20 January 1975

Rating: 10/10

Often regarded as Dylan’s greatest album, and potentially the greatest album of all time, it’s hard to disagree. Released on Columbia Records following Bob starting a relationship with an employee whilst his marriage to Sara was crumbling following the 1974 tour, the record is actually two different recording sessions. One was in New York, with a much more mellow feel, the other was in Minneapolis with a backing band, following Dylan’s brother stating that the New York songs sounded too similar. Whilst the original recordings are available on the Bootleg Series Vol. 14: More Blood, More Tracks, and are fucking fantastic in their own right, the final product is a thing of inconceivable genius. It’s an album that perfectly captures the turbulence of divorce, love, longing, and self reflection, and is easily the most beautifully written collection of songs ever released.

1) Tangled Up In Blue - Once again, Bob opens the album with one his best ever compositions. A non-linear tale of love and loss which would rival the postmodern writing style of Kerouac and Ginsberg. The story he tells here is both sweet and tragic, filled with nostalgia and longing for a companion. Potentially partially biographical in nature, the lyrics are among his very best, relatively simple at face value, but filled with references and meaning that could take a lifetime to fully digest. His voice continues to sound more mature and even quite commercial, though his brilliant nasal twang is still present, particularly when he hits the title line. This Minneapolis version is astonishing, it may be the perfect song, though the slower and more chilled out New York recording is equally as brilliant. Although for me the defining performance is the one found on his 1984 live album ‘Real Live’, which completely alters most of the lyrics, something Bob carries on doing to this day.

2) Simple Twist Of Fate - A beautiful track about the cruel nature of fate and losing a soul mate. The song talks of the life cycle of a relationship, through metaphor and abstract imagery that wouldn’t be amiss on ‘Blonde On Blonde’, and feels like a dream sequence that ends with waking up alone and confused. The walking bass in the background and soft acoustic strumming create a relaxed and almost floaty tune that only elevates the vivid lyrics. As this is the ‘divorce’ album, the song ends with the lover being gone and Dylan deep in regret, and whilst he says this record is based on the work of Chekhov, I believe this is how Bob viewed and dealt with his separation. Sara came into his life through fate, and he let her slip through his fingers, it’s a moving song that is drenched in a need to understand the confusing and painful side of love.

3) You’re A Big Girl Now - Bob is begging for forgiveness here, promising to change and asking to be taken back as he sings through tears. I do take issue with the idea of Bob saying it pains him to see Sara walking away from him given his infidelity, however he does accept that it is entirely her decision and he is pleading his case. Ultimately, despite the brilliant performance Bob gives of desperation and pain, along with some great piano and guitar playing from his band, I do think this is the weakest song on the album due to the lyrics bordering on self pitying. It’s still a great song, I just don’t think Dylan comes across the best here. The rest of the record focuses on either anger, sadness, or regret, whereas here it seems he’s focusing on himself and almost being absolved of his own wrongdoings.

4) Idiot Wind - Though Bob claims this isn’t about the causes of the breakdown of his marriage, I think we all can take that to mean that it definitely is. It also happens to be the best song on the album, Bob is snarling his way through an epic poem of accusations and falsehoods, betrayal and bitterness. It harks back to his finger pointing songs of 10 years earlier, and it doesn’t hold punches against the press and those who had been circulating rumours about both him and Sara. It’s fucking amazing, Bob sounds genuinely enraged and yet also confused at the exaggerated actions he’s having to defend or downplay. Not only are the lyrics both chaotic and fascinating, the organ playing is superb. Throughout the 7:47 minute song, every time Bob sings ‘Idiot Wind’ it’s like a direct insult to those who meddled in his relationship, as well as another nail in the coffin of his once happy marriage.

5) You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go - It’s been argued as to whom was making Bob lonesome, is it Sara or his Columbia girlfriend? Either way, it’s quite a happy sounding song that’s actually a heartbreaking tale of loss and reluctance to accept life moving on. Bob invokes the poets Verlaine and Rimbaud’s turbulent relationship, with Bob very much being the Rimbaud of the 20th Century, to describe the breakdown of love and happiness leading to feeling alone and self-reflection. As with the whole album, the backing band sound great alongside Bob’s relaxed vocal style and joyous harmonica, and the song creates a tragic feeling of putting on a brave, upbeat facade as life goes on. It’s undeniably becoming much sadder and, as the title suggests, much more lonesome, but Bob attempts to carry on and learn from his mistakes. It’s a hard message to convey in under 3 minutes, but Bob’s pained and honest writing from this period manages it perfectly.

6) Meet Me In The Morning - Musically, this is the best song on the album. All the instruments have a brilliant bluesy feel to them, and Dylan’s voice matches this style, with his nasal tone elongating phrases and making him sound like the blues singers of old. From what I can gather, the protagonist of the song is asking his lover to a rendezvous, but waits from dawn to dusk with no appearance from her. Throughout the song he wishes they could be elsewhere, and compares his love and longing to the darkness of the night and the setting of the sun. It’s a difficult song to unpack as Dylan is the master of mysterious and metaphorical storytelling, but understanding every line really doesn’t matter here. The song itself is a joy to listen to, proving that Dylan shouldn’t just be applauded for his lyricism, but also his ability to compose and record with various musicians to achieve a specific and memorable sound.

7) Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts - I’ll quickly mention that Dylan and his harmonica sound amazing on this song, as do the backing band who evoke the sound and atmosphere of the cabarets of old. However, it would be impossible to do the lyrics to this song justice in one small paragraph. This song is the ‘Desolation Row’ of the album, a sprawling epic poem featuring a host of characters in various criminal and romantic encounters. It’s an incredible piece of work, more interesting and exciting than most of what we see on the silver screen. I urge you to fully immerse yourself into the world Dylan creates here, as for nearly 9 minutes, he and his band weave a perfect story worthy of Homer.

8) If You See Her, Say Hello - This song reminds me of ‘Girl From The North Country’. It’s about passing on well wishes to a former lover, letting them know you’re still thinking about them, even though they’ve left your life and moved on. The lyrics are heartbreaking, as Bob remarks that the love still burns within him, but he wants to ensure this information isn’t passed on to her. A brilliantly moving and desperate song once again, with another beautiful backing arrangement and a pained voice longing to rekindle what he has lost.

9) Shelter From The Storm - A love song that focuses on being saved, clearly Bob is talking about Sara and his needing to be rescued from the hurricane of fame, drugs, and parting of 1965 when they met. It’s a romantic story featuring religious imagery, showing Bob’s true feelings towards how he viewed himself and the period of life that was now being ripped apart by his actions. The near angelical way he describes Sara, and his ending thoughts on how he still feels about her nurturing and caring personality, are a far cry from some of the earlier tracks on the album, but this feels like perhaps the most personal song on the record. The stripped back instrumentation allow the bittersweet lyrics to take centre stage, with Bob again sounding much more mature and accessible with his relaxed vocal style. Whilst this version is incredible, I’d also recommend the live 1976 recording on ‘Hard Rain’. The song is much rockier, Bob barks the lyrics, and it sounds fucking brilliant.

10) Buckets Of Rain - The album closes with a genuinely lovely track, both simple and sweet as it addresses a lover. The melody is delicate and Dylan’s singing is soft and full of warmth. There’s not much else to say about this beautiful song, other than it feels like Bob showing us that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and that everything will work out in the end.

Verdict: I could happily just listen to this album until the day I die. If Dylan going electric is the most important musical moment of the 1960s, then this release is the 1970s equivalent. It’s pure art, it captures a feeling most struggle to internally process, let alone articulate in such a poetic and moving way at only 33 years old. The lyricism on this one record alone proves Bob is the greatest poet of the 20th Century. Even the outtakes from this album, especially ‘Up To Me’, are better than most artists creative peak. This may be Dylan’s most personal record (despite his insistence that it is not autobiographical), and I imagine it will be studied for centuries to come as his magnum opus. In typical Bob style, he would bizarrely head out on an exhaustive tour called the ‘Rolling Thunder Revue’, playing at small venues with a band that resembled a circus show, whilst his family life continued to disintegrate. But before he managed to capture the spirit of these carnival-esque performances, he gave permission for some mythical recordings from 1967 to finally be released.

[dudedrops319]

Dooley Noted - A musical journey through the mojo of a Toledo bluesman

(original version can be seen at https://toledocitypaper.com/feature/dooley-noted/)

Dooley Wilson is frustrated.

It’s 9:57 am on a cold Saturday in December and he is supposed to start playing at 10 o’clock. He has only just now stumbled out of the Toledo tundra into the cozy confines of the Glass City Cafe, which has booked him for its popular Bluegrass Breakfast music series.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he cries out in the direction of restaurant owner Steve Crouse, who assures him everything is fine. Wilson looks pained as a brief flash of flame passes over his smoldering dark brown eyes. No, it’s not fine. He was scheduled to start playing the blues at 10 sharp, and now he’s going to start late. And a professional should always be punctual.

Undaunted, he swallows his disappointment and, within 10 minutes, he has everything set up at the front of the restaurant which serves as the stage. Upending his battered Cunard Queen of Elizabeth canvas bag, he sorts through the contents— Halls menthol cough drops, a bottle of slippery elm supplements (“Just in case my voice goes out”), a bottle of Deja Blue water, a glass vase that serves as a tip jar and a power strip.

He plugs the power strip into his amp, a well-loved 1965 Fender Bandmaster. And then out comes the artisan’s tool— his Jay Turser electric guitar. It doesn’t have a name or anything; it’s a utensil to serve the stew of blues (“It’s a cheapo guitar, but it’s MY cheapo guitar,” he muses). He’s almost ready. He asks, and a cup of hot black coffee is delivered. After the obligatory microphone check, he sits on the edge of a worn tan suitcase and readies his guitar. It’s time to go to work.

Soon the Glass City Cafe fills with the sound of the blues— and Wilson is lost in ecstasy. He’s sitting atop the worn tan suitcase, choking the guitar neck, his angular carved-in-stone features a mask of concentration, fingers and knuckles gnarled from a lifetime of plucking strings. There’s no setlist, no backdrop, no real plan. Just a working man with an instrument sharing the gospel of what he believes is the greatest music that exists. Wilson plays the blues as if his life depends on it.

And maybe it does.

From C.J. to Dooley

Dooley Wilson does not take toast with his mozzarella cheese omelet, favoring potatoes instead. Sitting in the Glass City Cafe months later— this time as a patron— he is a bit more relaxed than he was when he played here. He still doesn’t smile much. Wilson isn’t grumpy, he just carries himself with an intensity that’s disarming. You get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be here. That’s because he lives to do one thing: Play the blues. And when he’s not playing the blues, by gum, he wants to be playing the blues.

But for now, he’ll tell his story. Now 45 years old, he was born C.J. Forgy, in West Lafayette, Indiana to James and Sandy Forgy. His parents split when he was two years old and he went to live with his maternal grandmother in Maumee. An only child, Wilson describes himself as an “artsy kid” who spent hours in his room drawing and writing.

“Everyone thought I was going to be a visual artist,” says Wilson, taking a sip of his coffee. “But along with writing, over the years I’ve let those skills atrophy,” he says, with a regretful sigh. “But I don’t know; I’m thinking about taking up drawing again for its therapeutic value.”

So what sparked his obsessive devotion to the blues? It started as musical hangups often did in the ‘80s— with a cassette. At 15, Wilson, who was teaching himself guitar and whose musical tastes at the time ran towards Led Zeppelin, walked into Camelot Music in the now-long-gone Southwyck Mall and spied a tape from Columbia Records called Legends of the Blues Vol. 1. There was something about that tape that spoke to him.

He picked it up and looked at the back. As-yet unfamiliar names like Bo Carter, Blind Willie Johnson, Charley Patton, and Leroy Carr stared out at him from the tracklisting. Robert Johnson— he knew that name from an interview he’d read with Jimmy Page and he was fascinated by the infamous story about Johnson reputedly getting his blues talent while making a deal with the devil at a crossroads. Maybe it was the ghost of Johnson himself speaking to Wilson that day in Camelot Music. All he knew is that he had to buy it.

When he got home, he popped the tape into his boom box, and something in the universe shifted. At that moment, C.J. Forgy ceased to exist and the bluesman named Dooley Wilson was born.

“That anthology started this mystique and passion I had for this music,” says Wilson, in between forkfuls of omelet. “It just spoke to my angst-ridden soul at the time and I had never heard anything so authentic, so human, so real. Take Son House’s song ‘Death Letter,’ which is on that anthology. It’s taken from his 1965 Columbia session and it’s just this amazing song about how a man gets a letter saying that the woman he loves is dead. It’s just…” Wilson often trails off when he talks about the blues; yet another reason why he’d much rather play you a song than talk about it.

From that fateful moment, the blues wasn’t just a preferred style of music to listen to or to learn to play… it became, at that time, a life choice.

“I decided I’m going to devote my life to being some kind of bluesman like Fred MacDowell or Son House,” says Wilson. “It became much more important to me than making a living. If you weren’t dead and black, I couldn’t be bothered to listen to you.”

Henry & June

By the way, where did that name Dooley Wilson come from? Wilson smiles broadly with a touch of sheepishness. He was setting up one of his earliest gigs, at the famous East-side haunt Frankie’s, and his buddy Lance Hulsey (currently the leader of Toledo rockabilly outfit Kentucky Chrome)— who Wilson played with his first band, a heavy metal project called Harlequin— said that the promoter needed to know what to call him… and C.J. Forgy didn’t exactly sound bluesy. So the young musician, right there, decided on the name Dooley Wilson in homage to the actor and musician of the same name, famous for playing the character Sam in Casablanca. Dooley Wilson is now his legal name. He cashes checks with that moniker.

With a new name under his bluesman’s belt, the then-recent Maumee High School (Class of 1992) graduate needed a band that would let him explore the blues the way he wanted to. The result was Henry & June, a heavy blues ensemble that Wilson formed with his good friend Jimmy Danger. They got the band name from a recently released biopic of Henry Miller, one of Wilson’s favorite authors.

“I was obsessed with the blues at that time, but I’m still incapable of playing it correctly,” says Wilson, draining his coffee cup. “I was really struggling to learn how to play blues the way it was meant to be played.”

But even as he worked to unravel the mysteries of Deep South blues, Wilson was experiencing something unexpected: Success. Henry & June had released a single called “Going Back to Memphis” on Detroit label Human Fly Records, and the song was attracting a lot of heat. The popular band The Laughing Hyenas— which featured former Necros member Todd Swalla, who would go on to play with Wilson in his later outfit Boogaloosa Prayer— were big fans of the song and were trying to get Henry and June signed to Touch and Go Records. Some cat named Jack White, who had a little band called The White Stripes, also was a big Henry and June fan and began covering “Going Back to Memphis” in concert.

“We were kind of a hot, cult thing on the scene in Detroit,” says Wilson, thanking the Glass City Cafe waitress as she refills his coffee. “Jack White wasn’t the only cool person in Detroit who knew who we were though, of course, he became the most famous one. Judah Bower of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion put out a cover of the single on his side project called 20 Miles. I heard The Von Bondies used to cover ‘Going Back to Memphis.’ It’s a really fun, simple, dumb song.”

And then right when things started to go well for Henry & June, it all went wrong. The blues were supposed to feel like freedom and suddenly Wilson and the rest of the band began to feel decidedly trapped.

“Jimmy in particular felt like things were getting stagnant,” says Wilson. “Things were going good for us but it started to feel like we were just going through the motions. It was creative claustrophobia.” And so the band, at its peak, unceremoniously broke up.

“We were just dumb kids. We had no idea what we were doing with our little garage band. Looking back, that may have been the worst decision of my career. But when you’re young and dumb, you don’t realize that; you just think ‘Well, I’ll just do the next thing that comes along.’”

Today, Henry & June is fondly recalled as an early part of the Detroit music resurgence of the latter 20th Century. While The White Stripes, Kid Rock, The Detroit Cobras, and various Detroit rappers, from Eminem to Insane Clown Posse, put the Motor City musically back on the map, Henry and June remains a small part of that legacy. Copies of “Going Back to Memphis” routinely go for more than $100 on eBay, and the song was recorded live by The White Stripes for their DVD concert film, Under Blackpool Lights.

And no, Wilson hasn’t received any royalties. It all worked out for the members of Henry & June, though. Drummer Ben Swank is now the top A&R guy at Third Man Records, Jack White’s label. The band did a well received reunion back in 2010 in Toledo and everyone is still cool with one another. But in rock-n-roll and the blues, time waits for no one, so Wilson was off to new projects and new adventures.

And those adventures would lead to him nearly lose his mind.

On a wing and a Boogloosa Prayer

Brushing off the ashes of Henry & June, Wilson decided to further buckle down and get more “authentically bluesy.” He quickly formed a new band with Ben Swank and guitarist Todd Albright, that went through various names such as Dime Store Glam and Gin Mill Moaners. They sat in for many nights at the long-gone-but-never forgotten Rusty’s Jazz Cafe.

“I was spending all of my disposable income on that watered down whiskey at Rusty’s,” said Wilson. “Rusty’s was an amazing little place.” After a while though, he got restless and decided he would get as real as the blues could get and move to New Orleans.

“I wanted to see if I could live as a street performer,” said Wilson. “I had this rather naïve idea that I could possibly make a living at it in that town. I suspected it was the place on Earth where you might encounter people doing this kind of music.”

So Wilson moved to New Orleans, virtually homeless, busking on the streets of NOLA. Meanwhile, The White Stripes were starting to get their first big taste of international notoriety and began introducing “Going Back to Memphis” to a whole new audience due to their frequent covering of the song in live gigs.

“There I am trying to get lunch money down in New Orleans, and suddenly The White Stripes and the whole Detroit thing started to blow up and I’m trying to be Mr Authenticity down in effing New Orleans,” says Wilson, shaking his head incredulously. “My career is awful. I always zig when I should have zagged.”

But New Orleans proved to be an artistically fruitful time for Wilson. He met true, dyed-in-the-wool blues players who were playing incredible music from their souls. Nobody had record deals or anything that could get in the way of making direct, honest music. Many of these men and women were homeless or living off the grid; something Wilson describes as “an anti-American dream.” He talks enthusiastically and excitedly about that time in his life.

“These were some of the greatest living blues artists. There was a guy named Augie Junior who was simply incredible. I had never heard anything like him. There was this woman named Lisa Driscoll who played the washboard. People called her Ragtime Annie. And…”

Suddenly Wilson stops in mid-sentence and a hollow expression crosses his face. He stands up, sets his coffee cup down, excuses himself with a hurried “I’m gonna step out for a minute” and before uttering another word, he’s left the Glass City Cafe. A few minutes pass and he returns, wiping his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, sitting back down. “It’s just…it’s hard talking about this. I just got a little overwhelmed talking about some of my departed friends.”

He steadies himself with a sip of coffee that’s starting to go cold, as he’s eager to move on to talk about his other great band, Boogaloosa Prayer. Formed after moving back to Maumee fresh off a year in New Orleans, Boogaloosa Prayer, which Wilson says “was one of the best things I ever did artistically” came after stints in short lived bands like The Young Lords, and The Staving Chain.

Boogaloosa Prayer, an aggressive blues rock outfit featuring in part his old friend Jimmy Danger and Maumee drumming legend Todd Swalla, garnered quite a devoted following, playing in both Toledo and Detroit. The band had momentum behind them that recalled the Henry & June days. Then one hot summer night in 2006 at the now-shuttered Mickey Finn’s Pub, Wilson’s demons got the better of him.

Sporting a shaved head and a sickly frame that was skinny even by his normally lithe, sinewy standards, Wilson cracked onstage during the show. He ranted incoherently, couldn’t perform any songs, and couldn’t remember any lyrics. To everyone who was there, it was a harrowing experience.

Today, Wilson is reluctant to talk about the incident but he acknowledges it happened.

“I can say that I had a horrible psychotic breakdown and it had an impact on my life,” says Wilson, a bit guardedly. “At the time I had several severe emotional stressors in my life. A toxic woman in my life was stalking me. I had a business deal that was crushing me under the pressure. Plus, Boogaloosa Prayer was breaking up at the time because Swalla was moving to California. It all led to that time in my life.”

Following his breakdown, Wilson spent some time in a psychiatric ward, and lived in his aunt’s attic as he attempted to rebuild his fragile psyche. He eschewed traditional psychotherapy and refused meds because he’d seen too many of his friends “get hooked on those damned things.” Through a lot of hard work, meditation, and support from his friends, Wilson says he “totally got well again” and he hasn’t had any mental health issues since— thank goodness.

“Losing your sanity really puts a damper on your life.”

Still walkin’ down that road…

Wilson now lives in what he calls “a shack,” though it’s actually a carriage house out on a property in Maumee. The place smells of incense, a bit cramped but cozy abode, filled with guitars, amps, books on Buddhism, and novels by Charles Bukowski. Exactly how you would expect Wilson to live. This is not the living quarters .of a typical 45 year old, but it is definitely the home of a bluesman— and that’s all Wilson ever wanted to be. He plays gigs around the region and works as a “factotum” (his term) helping out family members and friends with projects. He’s completed an album and is currently trying to figure out how to release it. Love? Not interested.

“I have the kind of personality where I just do better alone,” he says simply. He may be alone but he’s not lonely. He has the best friends in the world in his life, even if most of them are dead. Son House. Sonny Boy Williamson. Bo Carter. All those great blues artists of yesteryear he counts as his personal friends, and by playing their music and his own songs inspired by their influence, Wilson is a happy man.

On that cold December day at the Glass City Cafe, Wilson utters a line that captures his essence: “Oh, I’m Dooley Wilson. Don’t mind me.” But, about that, he’s wrong. Mind him. Pay attention to Dooley Wilson. Pay close attention.

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[rawrampmag]

LAURENCE JONES @Laurencemusic — #blues #rock #LaurenceJonesBandAlbum @topstopmusic #AlbumReview

LAURENCE JONES @Laurencemusic — #blues #rock #LaurenceJonesBandAlbum @topstopmusic #AlbumReview

The award-winning 26-year-old British blues-rock guitarist and singer/songwriter LAURENCE JONES plays an infinite variety of sounds; from stimulating riffs, full of rocky hues, to elongated nickel & steel structures that often come together in power-ribbons and magneto sparkles of pure brilliance.

He’s won several major accolades across five albums, and he’s supported the likes of : Gary Clark…

[thedollarcrate]

Grandmother’s Song by Heather Bishop

Over the holidays, I traveled far north to rural Minnesota and to the deep south’s Louisiana. Aside from the mighty Mississippi, there’s not much that connects the two – their geographic distance might only be surpassed by their cultural differences.

One thing these states do have in common are storied musical histories – and record shops.

So of course, I had to make pit stops at the local stores during my holiday travels. And that’s where I discovered Grandmother’s Song by Heather Bishop.

But if I told you that Grandmother’s Song is filled with gentle, bluesy ballads and laid back piano chords, swinging drum beats, and playful clarinets, and then asked you to guess which city I picked up the record in – either New Orleans or Minneapolis – I’d be willing to wager you’d pick New Orleans. I know I would. After all, it only makes sense that I would pick up a record that fits this description in the Big Easy.

But you would be wrong – it was hidden in the stacks at the famed (and Prince frequented) Electric Fetus.

In fact, Heather Bishop’s album is far from the rock and roll of the Replacements and Hüsker Dü or the pop funk of the Purple One and the Time. There might be a little Dlyanesque folk in there, but Grandmother’s Song is much closer to the jazzy sounds associated with N’Awlins than Minnesota’s musical exports.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though. I was so caught off guard – and equally intrigued – by the unattractive elderly woman on the front cover and what music could be behind it that I completely missed the iconic jazz names listed next to several tracks on the back – names like Nina Simone, Billie Holiday and Ma Rainey.

While Heather Bishop doesn’t rise to their legendary status on Grandmother’s Song, she covers songs like “Sugar in my Bowl,” “Prove it on me Blues,” “Lady Sings the Blues,” and “Blues for Mama” with a warm, engulfing voice that does them justice, and echoes their ease as she sings tales of down-on-their-luck characters.

Like that old woman smoking a cigarette, Heather Bishop also conveys a sense of fatalism in each song, a feeling that no matter what these characters do – or don’t – they can’t change who they are or the situations they’ve found themselves in.

But also like the weathered lady, that doesn’t make them any less proud. Even though they might all have the blues, which Billie Holiday says “ain’t nothing but a pain in your heart,” that doesn’t mean they’re not determined to do something about it, even if it wears them out or makes no difference in the end.  

But ultimately, the beauty of Grandmother’s Song is the surprise of hearing elegant blues standards behind that rugged cover - reminding us once again that you can’t judge an album by its cover.

And here’s hoping for more equally satisfying discoveries in the year ahead - no matter where they come from or what they look like.

[thehorrcr]

hi, i'm Laura, i'm short, people say i'm cute, i love the moon, i hate bright lights, and i know how to keep a secret, oh and once i was a bird

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE, BUT IT’S MY FAVORITE ONE SO FAR!!! SO I HOPE U LIKE IT AS MUCH AS I DID!!! WOOHOO!!!

They say that the world ended, at the edge of the sunflower field. Laura’s house sat nestled on the other end. Every evening, she’d watch the sun set, a fiery gem crowning the heads of the yellow-eyed beggars, that stretched their canary petals towards the its warmth. And she’d dream of flying straight into her beams, until she made it to another sun, another world, where days never ended, and nights tasted like syrup on her tongue.

This was not just a simple dream, no, no. Laura was a smart girl, everyone had always told her so. “Laura, Laura, what a marvelous brain you’ve got locked up in that noggin’ of your’s.” They’d say, admirably. Laura would always smile, so brightly. Until she became a honey-dipped jewel herself. Little did they know her plans, she kept them held tight against her chest like a secret shared between tight lips.

It all started in June, when she had laid with her arms behind her neck. Watching the sky stretch above her, like a cat on a windowsill. The sun’s bright yellow, burning the blue straight out of it, until all that was left was a hollow feeling. There was nothing, and then, the birds appeared. As if by magic. They flocked across the sky, in a swarm. All of them, dancing dizzily above her until they were nothing more than dots poking holes through the azure ceiling.

Laura studied them for several moments, as they flew over the sunflower field, and dipped low into the land, disappearing over the horizon line. Their bodies, being swallowed whole, by the yellow ocean.

She smiled to herself, sitting up, daisies falling out of her hair and onto her lap. She realized she knew in that moment, exactly how to escape her small life.

She’d simply build herself a pair of wings to fly away on!

A thunderstorm rolled in that night, but that didn’t stop Laura from working tirelessly. She snuck into her father’s tool shed, and quickly started her plans. She had spent the day, sketching diagrams of birds, constructing measurements and pictures of wings. Her dad, an engineer, had worked on airplanes before. She had stolen his plans and outlines from his table, and had compared them to her own work.

After she’d planned it out, she had started to put the contraption together. It took her hours, and the birds had started to sing outside by the time she finished. She had bidded them all good morning, chirping happily to them, “I’ll join you soon, my feathered friends!”

A small radio sat in the corner of the room, and Laura turned it on. 1940’s swing music spilled from the speakers, and filled the room with a bluesy sort of jazz, that made her want to sway her hips and tap to its melancholy rhythm. She hummed along, and suddenly the hours passed in minutes. Before she knew it, the wings were done. All she needed to do was test them.

It was afternoon by the time Laura finally got outside. She had a pair of goggles shoved over her eyes, and an aviation jacket, that looked like something Amelia Earrhart would wear. A patch was on the sleeve that said, “To greatness, somehow!” with a small, bird and sword below the letters. The finished product of the wings, were two great big bat-like things, that hung over Laura’s shoulder. They were twice her size, but barely weighed anything.

Amelia looked out over the field of flowers, before taking a running start. For a few moments, nothing happened. The stalks of sunflowers grew closer, and closer, and closer. Laura’s feet had not left the ground, in a yard over, she could hear the howl of a dog. Another moment passed, and then Laura pulled a lever, and suddenly, the wings gusted up into the air. Laura’s feet dangled dizzingly below her, and she let out a manic laugh as the world twirled like a ballerina. Falling away from her, as the sky became a floor, and the ground became a ceiling. The wide expanse of the sunflower field, was spilled before her, like a can of yellow paint fallen onto its side.

Laura flew out over it, the clouds passing by her, kissing her cheeks lovingly as she waded through them. As if she were an angel, that belonged in the heavens with them. She watched as her old, childhood home waved her goodbye. Her dog, sat barking, from a window that had been left open. As if to say, “Wait for me!” “I want to see the stars, too!” “Bring me a souvenir!”

But Laura would not be returning, and a sad feeling tugged at her heartstrings. She quickly shooed it away though. Where she was going, there would be no sorrow, or pain. Where she was going, there would only be the stars, and the wings on her back. Carrying her higher and higher and higher, until she too, became another constellation, framing the night’s beautiful gilded quilt of cosmos.

[independentartistbuzz]

Joanna Ramirez is Full of Soul in her R&B and Jazzy Album ‘On My Way’

Joanna Ramirez is the rising jazz rock and jam singer/songwriter from Austin that’s taking hearts and souls with her catchy hooks and melodies. Her second solo album, the jazz rock and soul filled On My Way, could best be described as a soulful, heavy groove-laden, spiritual journey with a Susan Tedeschi sound and style. She masters the marriage of horns and a chorus to create songs that keep you engaged the whole time.

Each of the 11 songs on the album follow a similar pattern. While they are all groovy with varying tempos, each song has a fun musical solo, the guitar, horns, and percussion working together in complete synchronization and harmony. It’s an amalgamation of Joanna’s beloved groove influences, spanning, neo-soul, blues, hip-hop, Latin, and favorite artists such as Sade, Maxwell, Stevie Wonder, fellow Dallas-ite Erykah Badu, Jill Scott, and The Roots.

The titular song, “On My Way,” was actually one of the earliest to be written from the album. Written back in 2015 and finished back in 2018, it’s a comeback song. It’s Joanna’s call to the world to not count her out, that she’s coming back to the scene stronger and better than ever. “I think a lot of people could relate this song to their situation – of wanting to give up on something but knowing that they can’t ignore a voice inside telling them to keep going and to not give up on themselves,” she shares. The song boasts of an infectious chorus and hook that keeps your head bobbing and wanting more. 

The string loaded single “Ride” is her exploration of capitalism and her observations of lifestyles while she lived in Dallas. At the time, and still ringing true today, she noticed the focus on material things and the need to fit in the masses. “As with a lot of my songs, I’m giving encouragement to look deeper and realize that it’s o.k. to be yourself - get off the merry-go-round, feel your emotions and connect with a peace you can find in yourself and that nothing you see in this world will make you happy – you just have to choose to be happy.” This song was written way back in 1995 when she was part of her first band, Soul Providers.

The single “Happy,” is a deeper keyboard based song, with a strong riff that grabs your soul. The jazzy and bluesy song with an R&B core styling was actually inspired by Childish Gambino and explores self-love, that your fears have no power over you. Everyone deserves to feel happy. “This one was a bit scary to write, because I knew I had to get personal and tell my story through this song, starting with childhood, remembering the feeling of not measuring up to my parents expectations,  the fearful environment of our home, then to my failed romantic relationships and now, still feeling that I’m not being fully myself as a musician and creator.”

While the songs all have an electric jazz and blues groove to them, one song that stands out is “Sundays,” a folk and Americana style blues song. The tempo is slowed down to a ballad and features bongos and the harmonica played by the amazing Greg Izor. She still features a solo in the song with the Harmonica taking the lead in a powerful way. It’s simple, yet deep and powerful. This ballad is about the pain of the loss of her mother and an homage to her father’s blues legacy. She sings “love never dies,” wanting her mother by her side, that while her mother isn’t there for her physically, she will always be there for her. She hopes this song is of some comfort to those who are experiencing loss of any kind.

“Blame it on the Sun” is her cover of Stevie Wonder’s song. Joanna’s vocals really shine in this song. This version of the song is more electric and bluesy than Stevie Wonder’s version. Her version highlights her musical spirit and passion for her craft. 

Listen here: https://soundcloud.com/joanna-ramirez-15524804/sets/on-my-way-joanna-ramirez?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

It’s been 30 years since Joanna formally started her music career, and today she’s happier than ever knowing she’s being true to herself with her new music. You can really hear her passion and love for music in On My Way.

Find Joanna Ramirez via:

Website // Instagram // Facebook // Twitter // YouTube // Spotify // Soundcloud

[desertislandcloud]

Van Bellman is the brainchild of Brooklyn-based musician Zac Taylor. You may have seen him playing guitar on TV with multi-platinum band American Authors, or perhaps carrying your luggage at the Gansevoort Hotel on Park Avenue a few years back. And maybe you didn’t hear, but he doesn’t shine shoes anymore. Instead, Taylor has been cultivating this new project and is now ready to present it to the world. An eclectic mix of bluesy rock and indie pop, Van Bellman’s music was written with a purpose. 

The theme of “I Hate To See You This Way” focuses on the pain of watching someone you love go down a dark road, witnessing them self-destruct. Anyone can relate to this heartbreaking and helpless feeling, whether they have played the role of the nurse or the patient. “It means a lot to me as both a lyrical and sonic story,” said Taylor, who also produced the track at the legendary Mission Sound Studios in Brooklyn through some serious vintage equipment. With influences from Kurt Cobain to Jeff Buckley, you can feel the accusatory growl of the chorus, and get pulled into the sensitive moments in between the roars. Textured with modern elements and pop flourishes, the track is ultimately a rock’n’roll song which is meant to be listened to loud. 

The second single “Gold & Blue” is a story of hope, faith, and companionship in a world of turmoil and distractions. "I like that it’s a bit concrete and a bit abstract as far as what the colors or themes could represent,” confides Taylor. "For me, it’s a hopeful message of sticking together through bitter trials and tribulations, cutting through the noise of the modern world to really listen to someone.” Showcasing infectious melodies, soaring gang vocals and driving drums that all build into an anthemic chorus, “Gold & Blue” fills you with optimism, a fitting into the dark first single’s yang.

The NYC music scene has shaped Taylor into a respected collaborator, hired gun, and songwriter. Van Bellman is the byproduct of all of these experiences. You have no patience for a whole record. No one does. So the Van Bellman tunes are coming at you one by one. 

Links https://twitter.com/ZacVanBellman https://www.instagram.com/zacvanbellman https://www.facebook.com/VanBellman

[ssfoc]

I am so happy that you got to see Harry. You are one of my favourite blogs.

Thank you!

A few general observations:

1. Harry’s compassion, politeness, and genuinely caring nature were more evident in person than on video. Of course he’s beautiful; that goes without saying. I’ve always been impressed that his beauty is as much inside as outside. Even though we dissect micro-actions and words online, Harry is really a lovely, nice, inclusive person. He repeatedly blew kisses to people in the audience everywhere… up in the balconies, down in the orchestra, & in the mezzanine. He said several times how appreciative he was that we came to see him, and supported his songs and album. It was clear that he has an intimate and real friendship with his band members. After watching the show, I felt that the light banter in the BTA special came from a genuine place. Whatever may be going on in his life, his job was to entertain us, and he took it seriously. His niceness rubbed off. Everyone in Boston was so nice, even though I was not the typical fan. Everyone queued politely, moved quickly along the merch lines. I happened to sit next to someone very quiet and got amazing audio for my recordings, and I embraced her, of course I did. And I met someone in the fandom who is very special to me.

2. I think this was Harry’s doing, but I can’t be sure. The incidental music that played before the show started, and between MUNA’s set and his show, seemed handpicked to Harry’s taste and musical influences, and was congruent to the feel and sound of the show. They included The Beatles’ “Come Together,” Yes’ “Sweetness,” and Crosby Stills & Nash’s “Helplessly Hoping.” This music set the stage for a blues/ rock rendition of WMYB, which was surprising and lovely, much more so in person than can be conveyed on video.

3. The covers were all very good. WMYB was grown-up, defiant, and inclusive… Harry encouraged the audience to sing a lot of the chorus, as if to reiterate that each individual person was beautiful (as well as to hear from the audience how beautiful they think he is… what a narcissist… I’m kidding!). JALBOYH was also bluesy and muscular, not filled with pining as Ariana sings it, but full of a mature acknowledgement that love isn’t something one can control, a forgiveness and resignation even more heartbreaking than pining. The Chain was one of the encores, coming after the break, and although his voice was lovely, Harry seemed to be tiring.

4. It’s hard for me to choose a favorite performance. The song I like most on the album was the first performed, Ever Since NY. I loved the performance; the curtain drop was dramatic and effective. But I think two songs stood out for me in the concert. “Sweet Creature” was sung with Harry back-illuminated by a single violet/ fuchsia light. Instead of dramatic, it was calming, like a candle. The tone of the song was also redemptive. It’s hard to explain what I experienced, but to me, it sounded like a gift from the other side of sadness, with all the pain redeemed in sweetness. The other song was “From the Dining Table.” I know now why it’s Harry’s favorite. It’s a song with uncomfortable, jagged, complicated feelings, expressed in a few simple words, a whole life in a tiny folksong. It’s affecting to listen to something like that, and to find one’s own experience in someone else’s words. It’s the transformative possibility of art.

Maybe more later. Flight’s about to take off.

Thank you for the message!

Sea

[maryxglz]

The only indication that this is where the hottest ticket of this year, for one of the most exclusive theatre events is happening, is a modest sheet of A4 paper hung on the glass-fronted building. It reads: “HAMLET. Doors open one hour before the performance.”

No posters, no production photos, nothing else.

There’s no need: the 3-week run of Hamlet with Tom Hiddleston in the title role and directed by Kenneth Branagh, staged to raise funds for a new-build RADA theatre, is sold out.

Ever since opening night the press has clamoured for the production to be streamed live in cinemas so that a wider audience can see it. There are no plans to do so, and this adds to the tingle of privilege and excitement one feels walking into the tiny horse-shoe shaped auditorium that seats a mere 160,  knowing that you are one of the lucky few to bag a ticket. Even at £95 a throw.

This excitement at being at an exclusive super-star event is enhanced by the sheer physical closeness to the actors. If I reached out my hand, I could touch them. But from the moment the play starts, the actors touch me, emotionally. Hiddleston is magnificent: his range stunning. The excellent, diverse ensemble cast shines and Branagh’s direction throws fresh light on the emotional complexities of the play.

Two particular aspects of the production deepened my understanding of the dramatic possibilities of the play. The first was the emotional vulnerability Hiddleston brought to the role of Hamlet.

As the lights come up Hamlet sits centre stage at a small piano and tentatively picks out a half-remembered bluesy tune of such melancholy sweetness that it feels as if he hesitates to play the notes for fear they will evoke too much unbearable pain. Quietly mellifluous, he half-sings, half-speaks the slow, grief-filled words as they come to him, as if from far away

And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead; Go to thy deathbed; He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll. He is gone, he is gone.

When he sings these last words his warm voice thins and cracks and tears wet his cheeks – and we keenly feel his fragility, his loneliness, his vulnerability. Shakespeare didn’t write this scene – he has us meet Hamlet for the first time in a scene characterized by brittle hostility – and I was struck by the boldness of beginning the play with what appeared to be entirely new material. But the feelings with which Tom Hiddleston imbues this song creates in the audience an empathic alignment with Hamlet’s state of mind, and this forms a bedrock of understanding that informs all that follows. When he is spiky or enraged, vengeful or cruel, we know the emotional devastation that underlies it.

I felt deeply affected as Hiddleston deftly moved through changing states of mind. When he meets Polonius he’s reading Matt Haig’s brilliant Reasons to Stay Alive, the book that like no other shows the complex thought-patterns and fluctuating mindsets that are ongoing underneath the dull exterior of depression, whilst also reminding us of the possibility of recovery. Indeed, when Hamlet engages with death beside Yorick’s graveside, he comes to life. He bounces delightfully off Ansu Kabia’s light comedic touch as the Gravedigger.

The second revelation was the genesis of Ophelia’s madness in her relationship with her father Polonius. New light was thrown on Ophelia’s character for me, not only through Branagh’s incisive direction, but also Sean Foley’s brilliant work as the oily, obsequious Polonius. The verbose character loves the sound of his own voice and has often become tedious to watch for that very reason. But Foley finds the humour in the role and makes us love to loathe him. Importantly, the insights that this production provides result from the way Foley’s Polonius engages with his children. I want to expand on that a little.

Ophelia’s brother Laertes’ injunctions as to how his sister should comport herself in his absence are rife with florid sexual references and double-entendre-laden warnings, whilst he himself tucks away a packet of condoms to show her what he will be up to whilst away. Then Polonius arrives to bid his son farewell – and presses a large carton of condoms into Laertes’ hands, in a way that demonstrates parental sexual intrusiveness. Polonius too talks to Ophelia in queasily intrusive sexual overtones.

When Ophelia comes to her father for comfort after a shocking encounter with the grief-stricken, anxious Hamlet, Polonius offers no containment to her, but rather amplifies her confusion and distress by insisting that the prince was expressing “the very ecstasy of love”. Rather than recognize that Hamlet’s grief over his recently deceased father troubles him, Polonius convinces Ophelia that she is the cause of the madness: by rejecting his love. Thus he imprints on her that her sexuality is damaging.

He does not comfort her – in fact,  even as she sits distraught on the ground, he neglects her state of mind entirely and excitedly rushes to the King and Queen to tell them all about his new, titillating discovery. In Shakespeare’s original version, he goes alone, but Branagh has Polonius take his daughter with him. The shame and embarrassment to the poor girl to hear her father read Hamlet’s love letters out loud is palpable and we see her begin to fragment. This worsens as the royal couple gratefully accept Polonius’s reasoning that Ophelia’s sexual appeal is to blame for Hamlet’s “hot love” (her father’s lasciviously uttered phrase sees Ophelia cringe); that she is the cause for his descent “into a sadness, then into a fast, thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, into the madness wherein now he raves.”

Polonius’ description of Hamlet’s decline serves as a template for Ophelia’s own descent into madness later on, but this particular scene reminded me powerfully of Freud’s Dora: as in her case, here too, parents and long-standing adult friends of the family blatantly connive to use and abuse a fragile teenage girl as currency in maneuvers that are designed to paper over the cracks in the adults’ own complex and unscrupulous sexual relationships.

Kathryn Wilder’s Ophelia’s slight, waif-like frame betrays how little she wishes to ‘take in’, and one can easily see why. Her father’s thoughts turn by default to her sexual collateral, and he is persistently sexually intrusive. This is combined with emotional neglect of her when she is disturbed: he walks away from her and disregards her when she is in distress. He meets her with misrecognition of her lived experience, and tells her that her perceptions are incorrect, whereas it is actually he who consistently misreads the emotional temperature. And he is manipulative: when he, Claudius and Gertrude plot to lay a trap for Hamlet, with Ophelia as bait, he makes her complicit by having her present, and therefore guilty – yet at the same time it renders her even more powerless.

The innocent and loving intimacy that exists between Hamlet and Ophelia appears to be the only affectionate relationship in her life, and one which is firmly rooted in genuinely felt reality. When Hamlet turns against her, that too is lost. When he roughly rejects her, he too misrecognises her intentions, her very essence; and he too says one thing when he feels another. This misrecognition is what undoes her.

In previous stagings, Ophelia seems to ‘just go mad’, and her madness seems inexplicably sexual in its origins and utterances. When she is mad, she sings of flowers and these are often played as sexual metaphors. But this production highlights a potential other, deeper cause. When she sings, she sings the very song that Hamlet started with. It caught my breath when I recognized the words, and it sparked my imagination. Perhaps she’d heard him sing this sad song, once? Perhaps they’d sung the song together? It reminded us, the audience, of their lifelong friendship with each other; it links her to him in a way that shifts our thoughts to her distant history. The link to the song amplifies that both youngsters lost not only a father but also each other: their friendship, their comfortable closeness, and their hopes of love.

The elements that Branagh and Foley have highlighted in Polonius’ way of being with his child, shed light on why Ophelia’s internal world would have been so fragile, so as to fragment in the way it does. It is the first time I have noticed the profundity of this constellation.

The play features many different ways of relating, notably between Hamlet and his friends, who in this production are all women. Rosacrantz and Guildastern convey the immediacy of the camaraderie between fellow students, which warms the cockles of the heart but quickly unravels in adversity. His friendship with Horatia on the other hand strengthens as time goes on: she has the capacity to listen, to recognize, and above all, to bear his experiences, unfazed. This listening relationship, in which someone can digest what you divulge to them, and think about them with you, is one of the most valuable relationships in life.

I feel privileged to have been at this performance, not because the tickets were like gold dust but for the sheer joy of being present at such a thoughtful creative process. The lack of press and the small scale of the place make for a safe space in which the players can explore the story and the feelings that arise from it. The absence of ego and of external pressures provides a sense of  freedom and breathing space.

I was deeply moved by Hiddleston’s Hamlet. Branagh’s direction has thrown new light on the characters’ storylines by enriching the chains of association, and there are stand-out performances by the whole ensemble

[solplparty]

[M/V] inout (인아웃) - City Boy https://youtu.be/uQdBxxUQIXI Artist : inout Album Title : City Boy Release Date : 2019.12.08 Genre : R&B / Soul [Listen here] Melon - https://bit.ly/2DVmGvR Genie - https://bit.ly/36dUQaa Bugs - https://bit.ly/35fz2uw Vibe - https://bit.ly/2P3yG4B ■ Mirrorball Music http://mirrorballmusic.co.kr/ https://www.facebook.com/mirrorballmusic https://twitter.com/mirrorballmusic Inspired by the film Joker (2019), single album [City Boy] shows ourselves as moving forward with our dreams and beliefs in this cold city. Though it might be risky and anxious, but little by little we go to where our own lights is. Even if it is an illusion. The neatly guitar tone and riffs express this city while the vocal voice is solitary and lonely. And the synth sound expands stereo from mono of the hearing, much like light spread all over the city, making the image clearer. In contrast to the form of the song flowing laid back, the bridge section will embrace you up. The second track, [Dance with me, when this snowy night] is a vintage style big band instrumental. It’s a warm curtain call music for listener. It seems like the light is even brighter when the eyes are filled with tears. When you are in pain and stand by cliff, someone will give you a warm hand. I hope these songs can be that. - 영화 ‘조커(2019)’에서 영감을 받아 만들어진 싱글앨범 [City Boy]는 위태롭고 차가운 도심 속에서 마지막까지 자신의 꿈과 신념을 버리지 않고 나아가는 우리의 모습을 담고 있다. 그것이 비단 혼자만의 착각여도 좋다. 불안하고 아슬아슬하지만 조금씩 나만의 빛이 있는 곳으로 향한다. 타이틀곡인 [City boy]. 깔끔하게 정제된 Guitar톤과 플레이가 이런 도심을 표현하고, 그 안에 녹아 있는 Vocal의 목소리는 ���욱 쓸쓸하고 외롭다. 요소요소에 있는 Synth사운드는 마치 도심 곳곳에 퍼져 있는 빛과 같이 귀의 중심에서 바깥으로 퍼지며 이미지를 더욱 명확히 그려준다. 모든걸 내려놓은 듯 진행되는 곡 구성과 대조적으로 Bridge 구간은 더 환하게 당신을 감싸 안아줄 것이다. 두 번째 트랙인 [나와 함께 춤을 춰줘요, 눈 내리는 이 밤에]는 국내에는 드문 빅밴드 편성 올드-팝 경음악으로, 이 겨울 리스너에게 전하는 따뜻한 커튼콜 곡이다. 눈물이 날 때 바라보는 빛은 더욱 영롱한 것 같다. 당신이 아파 눈물 흘리며 위태롭게 비틀거릴 때, 누군가는 따뜻한 손을 내어줄 것이다. 이 음악들이 그런 당신의 손을 잡아줄 수 있기를 바란다. * Credit cover design : JEONG HAE JI photograph : Yeshi Kangrang filming : Bluesy Mansion Model : Gabriel Dye producing : inout all recording : inout mix, master : inout ■ More about inout https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBi3eRO47cuy9ET11rKksTw/ https://fb.me/inoutpage https://www.instagram.com/inout.official/ 미러볼 뮤직 - Mirrorball Music

[thatsoundssobeautiful]

Bluesy browses through the gloom, Stares of despair in the darkest of her days. Spare a day in her everyday life, Run around the same old uptown, Run alone when it all falls down, Ground down when no one’s around. Takes balls to Be A Girl sometimes, Takes guts to rise again with pride Takes love to smile again all through the pain Takes nerve to brave the spite of this world Takes bliss to stand still and sing. Regardless, joyful the whole day through.

A l’instar d’un mélancolique Neil Young qui jadis chantait Old Man, look at my life, Manon Cluzel des Uptown Lovers invoque un regard sur sa vie quotidienne  dans le clip de leur deuxième single, Be A Girl, extrait de leur premier album, By Your Side, attendu ce 4 Octobre 2019.

La vidéo capture une scène de vie, et présente un tableau tâché de colère, tristesse et morosité.

Le mini-film ouvre sur le son d’une guitare candide et innocente (Benjamin Gouhier) à la joie de vivre prononcée, avant de voir une chanteuse qui coule ses larmes, seule, dans son bain, brisée par la dureté de la réalité de cette Terre.

“Why is it so difficult to live on this Earth, without anger, without hatred?”

Le code couleur de la vidéo réalisée par Gabriel Bourdat soutient bien l’idée de l’écriture pour Be A Girl. En effet, les vêtements d’un blanc immaculé dont se vêtit Manon au début, suggèrent sa pureté ainsi que sa vulnérabilité. Dans sa désillusion, mille questions hantent ses pensées, et pour elle, le seul moyen pour nous de comprendre ce qu’elle ressent, est de vivre une journée avec elle.

Seule dans cet appartement, habitée par un vide profond, Manon nous invite dans l’intimité de sa chambre, dans l’intimité de son coeur. Elle nous fait vivre le quotidien d’une fille, du réveil, à la toilette, jusqu’au maquillage avant sa sortie en ville.

Pendant ce temps, l’orchestration progresse. Chaque élément arrive en temps. Josselin Soutrenon à la batterie impulse lentement le groove, avant l’entrée des joueuses percussions par Mathieu Manach et David Doris. La montée de l’orgue initiée par David Bressat donne frissons. Les émotions grimpent à leur paroxysme jusqu’à tout relâcher au moment du refrain… de quoi donner les larmes aux yeux.

L’orchestration offre l’espace nécessaire à la chanteuse pour prendre le temps de s’exprimer et d’élever sa voix, et projeter une multitude d’images.

La voix touchante de Manon et cette écriture qui progresse crescendo sans rush ni précipitation font la force des Uptown Lovers, dont on dit que la musique donne une sensation d’arrêter le temps.

C’est une musique intemporelle et passionnelle. Ainsi, le code couleur dans la vidéo évolue à partir des envolées du refrain, avec la présence angélique des choeurs (constitués de Jordi Tisserand, Lisa Caldognetto, Anaïs Laugier, Pierric Tailler).

Et, du mossade maron, l’on passe à des couleurs vives, chaudes : belle et apprêtée sans pâlir, elle porte le rouge passion.

“If I am a girl, I have to fight harder”

C’est aussi le rouge de la combativité, prête à affronter le quotidien, fière et forte. Elle traverse ainsi les ponts et divers chemins qui la mèneront de l’antichambre de la colère et du ressentiment, jusqu’à se sentir légère, et vivre libre avec sourire, ivre de paix.

  Plus le film avance, plus la paix de Manon semble imperturbable. Sereine et en confiance, elle marche en reine et laisse derrière elle les gens gambader, sa ville et son esprit en fête.

La moralité de cette vidéo : malgré les jours de solitude et de vide, tant que vous vous défendrez votre amour de soi, votre estime de soi et votre confiance en soi, vous garderez une joie parfaite.

Restez beaux, fiers et droit debout, dans l’adversité comme dans la félicité.

“I’m proud to stay myself.”

A l’instar de Neil Young, Manon Cluzel des Uptown Lovers réclame simplement plus d’amour (love) ici bas.

“Old man take a look at my life I’m a lot like you I need someone to love me the whole day through Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true.” – Neil Young.

Crédit Photographie d’entête – Renaud Alouche

Uptown Lovers – “Be A Girl”, La Vidéo Émouvante Qui Met En Scène Une Jeune Femme Inspirante Bluesy browses through the gloom, Stares of despair in the darkest of her days. Spare a day in her everyday life,

[listenbang]

TO THE KINDNESS OF GOD

It was with high expectation and emotion that I began my first listen-through of Michael Card’s latest record, To the Kindness of God…

I discovered the music of Michael Card when I was six years old. It was on my father’s CD rack, a compilation album called Joy in the Journey. I remember listening through that CD and being enchanted by the songs. It was the beginning of my adventure with this awestruck troubadour, encountering with him the wonders of God’s Word. Michael has a gift for songwriting: a unique way of weaving the truth and beauty of Scripture into a song. But Michael has given us more than individual songs. He has given us albums; a discography covering nearly the entire Bible, Old and New Testaments. Concept albums, in which the songs are able to tell a greater story collectively, than each could on its own. The beauty of a concept album is that it can approach the subject organically, from multiple angles, taking time to explore and develop an idea.

So why was this particular concept album such a big deal for me? Word has it that To the Kindness of God may be Michael Card’s last album. Listening through it felt like a goodbye of sorts. But if this is Michael’s last album, it definitely makes for a grand end to an era. There is grandness in its soft yet sweeping musical landscape, and in its lyrical theme, hesed: an untranslatable word denoting the inexpressible kindness of God. A theme that spans all of Scripture and in fact, all of history.

A word on hesed (kheh'·sed): it appears in the Hebrew Scriptures nearly 250 times, mostly in the Psalms. In English it’s often translated mercy or lovingkindness, yet these words fall short. King David, in Psalm 23, described hesed as a mercy that would follow him all the days of his life. A mercy that would never let go. Hesed is used in Psalm 136 in the recounting of Israel’s exodus. The phrase “His love endures forever” is chanted over and over again. The Christian Standard Bible translates hesed in that passage as faithful love. Elsewhere, I’ve also seen loyal love.

In To the Kindness of God, the listener is drawn, song by song, into the glorious story of hesed: how God’s matchless might has been revealed in his transformative, covenant love toward his broken creation. Can there be a more epic theme on which to write an album?

Come as You Are

Hymn to the Kindness of God

The Shelter of the Shadow

That Kind of Love

When Dinah Held My Hand / Jesus Is on the Mainline

Gomer’s Song

This Is My Father’s World

I Will Be Kind

Why Not Change the World

The album opens with ascending piano chords, and an invitation: “Come, come as you are, Broken and scarred…” There’s a quiet boldness in Michael’s voice. “…Surrender your fear, It is safe, there is comfort here.” The instrumentation embodies the call. The refrain gives the purpose in the call: “For the LORD is good, And his love is everlasting… Won’t you come?”

A simple message, yet deeply profound. This is what Michael has been approaching in his songwriting for all these years. Hesed is the heart of “El Shaddai.” The power behind the prayer, “Jesus Let Us Come to Know You.” The object of “Joy in the Journey.” This album is the culmination of decades of study in Scripture.

 * * *

 "Come as You Are" is followed by "Hymn to the Kindness of God." In this delicate piece, Michael seeks to express the inexpressible. Attribute after luminous attribute is named, filling out the nature of hesed. The nature of God. "Relentless tenderness, Hope of humankind."

There's a graceful wind and string arrangement (real instruments!) blending with voice and piano. It hearkens back to orchestration on early work such as The Final Word and The Beginning. Beautiful and, for me, nostalgic.

“Who you truly are, we hardly can believe; You know what we are, yet you refuse to leave.” Read the Scriptures and you will be confronted by a God whose goodness and love are so much purer than ours that he may seem, at times, too good to be true. Or maybe as Andrew Peterson says, “too good not to be true.”

* * *

“LORD, please show me your glory.” What a request! What was Moses thinking when he asked it? But there’s a desperation in his plea. To know God in a closer way, he disregards the danger. “The Shelter of the Shadow” recalls the history of hesed, starting before history: “From before the beginning Was a Word that was living…” Next is recounted the event portrayed in the book of Exodus; God revealing his glory to Moses on the mountain in the wilderness. A grand and soaring orchestral and chamber choir arrangement accompanies. Fitting for the events being portrayed…

“The LORD descended in the cloud and stood with Moses there, and proclaimed the name of the LORD. The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, ‘The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in hesed—steadfast love and faithfulness.’” (Exodus 34:5-6, ESV)

That shadowy cleft: what peril, and yet, what safety. For God’s glory was shown through his kindness. And that was just the beginning of God’s revelation…

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth… For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” (John 1:14, 16-17, ESV)

* * *

“That Kind of Love” is by singer-songwriter Pierce Pettis. It’s a beautiful song, musically and lyrically, and a natural fit among the other songs on the album. The lyrics are capturing. Michael’s voice is clear and bright.

“It can’t be kept unto itself, It spreads its joy, it casts its spell, Till no one’s safe this side of Hell—That kind of love." The last lines of the song brought the message close to home for me: “So how can anyone deny That kind of love, Knowing every heart is measured by That kind of love…”

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love hesed—mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8, ESV) “…O may we be remembered by That kind of love.”

* * *

Not often will Michael share a personal story in one of his songs, but “When Dinah Held My Hand” is quite personal. Listening to it, I felt like I was right there. It’s an important song because it addresses the issues of pain and evil. It does so looking through the lens of God’s kindness. The God who showed kindness to Moses and the people of Israel is still in the business of kindness. A banjo and a fiddle start out this simple story-in-song: “She was haloed ‘round in kindness, I was nervous and alone…”

Here, hesed takes on flesh and bone, and the kindness of God is seen on a common face. I’ve known people who shine that way. When with them, I felt safe. Ofttimes, the sweetest and kindest people are those who have gone through deep suffering. Instead of the hurt hardening them, by God’s grace, it makes them kinder, more able to comfort and help others who are hurting. Here we see the art of God’s providence: it will take what evil intends for a destructive end, and make something beautiful.

“She reached across three hundred years of suffering and pain, She reached across the great divide of the color of our skins; When she reached across that empty pew, then I understood, That all the hate that meant to harm, The Lord had used for good.”

At the close of the book of Genesis, Joseph says to his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20, ESV; emphasis added). What a comfort it is, that the Lord is working all things for the good of those who love him. Whether Joseph’s slavery, or the slavery of African Americans, no evil or injustice of man can thwart God’s good intentions.

“Life is made of moments we don’t always understand, Sometimes the meaning isn’t clear, there’s no specific plan; Each moment has been set in place before the world began, Like the time that Sunday morning, when Dinah held my hand.”

“Jesus Is on the Mainline” makes for a perfect outro to Michael’s story. Three instruments—a bluesy piano, a bass guitar and a tambourine — back up the vivacious singing of an African American choir! I love the diversity in the choirs featured in the album; international, like God’s hesed which reaches out to all mankind.

* * *

“Gomer’s Song” is from Michael’s Ancient Faith Trilogy, but it’s found a new and fitting home on this record. Gomer is graceless. Even her name sounds unattractive. But is this not the story of every Christian? Where would any of us be if not for the love that called us out of our shame and darkness? Hosea’s love for his unlovable wife is one of the clearest illustrations of God’s love for his rebellious people. Gomer’s story is my story. “Gomer’s Song” is my song.

* * *

“This Is My Father’s World” highlights yet another important facet of God’s hesed. Look around you. The trees, the animals, the blood in your veins—all creation tells of a sovereign, loving and faithful Father. “This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair; In the rustling grass I hear Him pass; He speaks to me everywhere.”

Those beautiful words are by Maltbie D. Babcock. Many who love this hymn have never heard of the hymn writer. Still fewer know of his tragic end by suicide. I don’t know what darkness brought Maltbie Babcock to take his life, but this I know: No dark demonic power can overshadow the covenant kindness God has for his children.

Michael introduces a couple small yet meaningful changes to this classic hymn text. I first heard Michael sing his version of “This Is My Father’s World” at a concert a few years ago. I was moved by the profound tenderness he had brought to the song. “This is my Father’s world, Why should my heart be sad? He is just and kind, he’s love defined, His grace all the hope that I have.”

This album arrived on the heels of a profound event in my life. In January of this year, my wife gave birth to our first child, a girl. Almost overnight, my understanding of God as Father—as my Father—was transformed. I now see how little I understood dependence, and how far I have to go to be broken of my pride and self-reliance. I see more clearly the pure joy it is to be a child of God, and to rest in his love. The other day we were going for a walk—my wife, our daughter and I. As I was looking up at the sky and the trees overhead, all at once, a thought entered my mind: “this is my Father’s world. My Father.” And it astounded me.

Again I must mention orchestration: the strings on this song are breathtakingly beautiful, like a towering cathedral forest of fir trees. I sense dedication and passion behind its arrangement.

 * * *

 “I can’t explain the mystery, Before I called, you answered me, And showed so great a love That set me free.”

As the album comes to a close, the mood becomes one of reflection. God has shown me kindness. Given his own precious Son, for me. What now? In the stillness, this kindness compels a response. “I Will Be Kind” is that response.

“So now I come and ask of you, To speak the word, to tell me true: In light of all you’ve done, what should I do?” The question is asked, and the response is given. It comes from Jesus’ sermon on the mount, and specifically his instruction to God’s children, on how they are to react to evil.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.” (Matthew 5:38-42, ESV)

My first reaction to Jesus’ words is to recoil. To give up all my rights, to basically let my enemy run all over me—it seems too much to ask. But this song, “I Will Be Kind,” has helped me better understand the heart behind Jesus’ words.

“I’ll forgive as I’ve been forgiven, I will love my enemies, I’ll be gracious to the ungrateful, That’s the grace you gave to me.”

Christ has set the example for loving my enemies, in loving me while I was his enemy. He loved the unlovable. He died for the unlovable. The greatest act of kindness. This is what it all comes down to. This is hesed. How can I not love as I've been loved? I must love my enemies.

To the proud and selfish heart, Jesus’ way is utterly abhorrent. But when that heart is broken by the love of Jesus, it gladly lays down all its rights. It becomes a conduit of his love. I will “turn the other cheek.” Jesus did first, and he did it for me.

“I gave my back to those who strike, and my cheeks to those who pull out the beard; I hid not my face from disgrace and spitting.” (Isaiah 50:6, ESV)

* * *

To the Kindness of God goes out with a paradox of a song. A light and cheerful melody carries these weighty words: “Why not change the world? Why not set it free? Why not let the change Begin with you and me?”

And so the album ends like it began: with an invitation. We’ve come full circle, and the one invited is now extending the invitation to those around him. A chord modulation, then a choir picks up where Michael left off—a Korean choir! Their voices are warm and so beautiful. “…Why not change the world, Why not make a start?”

* * *

To the Kindness of God is a joy to listen to; lyrically and musically, it’s insightful and refreshing. Just over 30 minutes, this album is short yet so rich in meaning. Truly, if not for the kindness of God, I do not know that I could bear to live. How I long to know it more!

“Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of his inheritance? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. You will show faithfulness to Jacob and steadfast love to Abraham, as you have sworn to our fathers from the days of old.” (Micah 7:18-20, ESV)

* * *

Michael Card's new record, To the Kindness of God, can be found here: http://store.michaelcard.com/preorderhesedcd.aspx 

And here’s where you can find Michael’s accompanying book, Inexpressible: Hesed and the Mystery of God's Lovingkindness (which I have now begun reading!): http://store.michaelcard.com/preorderhesedbook.aspx

And Michael, thank you. Here’s hoping for more music…

[ourimpavidheroine]

since you posted a playlist how about which songs your characters (OC and canon) would karaoke to? (adults obvs)

Oh, I had to go and make myself a cup of coffee before I tackled this one! I love it when you all send me these fun asks, I really do.

I mean, we’re assuming that for most of them it’s either tipsy or downright drunk Karaoke, right? Or at least I am assuming, based on my own experiences.

Also, this is AU obviously, which I normally don’t do but fuck it, I’m doing it with this one.

So lessee…a bar in Republic City one late night…

Wu would croon along to My Way in the most off-key caterwauling way ever. He would not give a shit at all that people were cringing and ordering new drinks because he is a Hou-Ting, thank you very much, and he expects that people will put up with him at all times, including when he is assaulting their ears.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and criedI’ve had my fill, my share of losingAnd now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusingTo think I did all thatAnd may I say, not in a shy wayOh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way

Not in a shy way indeed.

Mako would down his fire whiskey in one gulp, stand up, and do a surprisingly bluesy version of Smokestack Lightnin’. He would do it with feeling. The room would get instantly hotter.

Whoa-oh, stop your trainLet a poor boy rideWhy don’t ya hear me cryin’?Whoo-hooo, whoo-hoooWhooo

He might unconsciously grind his hips a little. Nuo would fan herself and take him up a few notches on her Exceptions List. 

Qi would do a smoldering whisper-sing to My Heart Belongs To Daddy and Mako would slam three shots in succession while glaring furiously at the little stage area. There would be lots of whistles of appreciation and a man who showed a little too much appreciation would get such a look from Mako that he would scuttle back over to the other side of the room.

Though I’m in love, I’m not aboveA date with a duke or a caddieIt’s just a pose, ‘cause my baby knowsThat my heart belongs to daddy

When people notice that the two of them have disappeared after Qi’s done and ask Wu about it Wu would merely sip at his drink and blandly say he was sure they’d be back soon. They would slink back in eventually, looking slightly worse for the wear. Wu is completely unruffled by this.

Nuo belts out Respect, of course. She does quite a bit of strutting during the bridge, which gets appreciative cheers from the crowd. Wing joyfully sings along with her in the audience. 

I ain’t gonna do you wrong while you’re goneAin’t gonna do you wrong ‘cause I don’t wanna All I’m askin' Is for a little respect when you come home Baby when you get home 

When she’s done she gets a huge round of applause and he yells louder for her than anyone else and kisses her when she sits back down in his lap, laughing.

Wing croons out This I Promise You and he only has eyes for Nuo. He’s got the best singing voice out of all of them and he sings it with such love and tenderness that there are handkerchiefs whipped out by many, including Wu.

I’ve loved you forever,In lifetimes beforeAnd I promise you never…Will you hurt anymoreI give you my wordI give you my heart This is a battle we’ve wonAnd with this vow,Forever has now begun…

When he’s done he sits back down next to her and she wraps her arms around him and if her eyes are a little wet everyone pretends they don’t notice.

Wei sings You Shook Me All Night Long, changing the gender, of course. He dances around a lot. Does air guitar, goes without saying. He’s clearly having such a good time that everyone sings along to the chorus. 

I’m working double time on the seduction lineHe’s one of a kind he’s just mine all mineWanted no applause it’s just another courseMade a meal outta meAnd come back for moreHad to cool me down to take another roundNow I’m back in the ring to take another swingCause the walls were shaking the earth was quakingMy mind was achingAnd we were making it

Sadly, there is no Sitiak there to be impressed with his performance.

Korra’s next and she screeches out Rebel Girl with more feeling than skill. Asami blushes. Korra gets so enthusiastic that she accidentally kicks over a speaker and it makes terrible feedback, but she just keeps going.

That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhoodI got news for you, she is!They say she’s a dyke, but I knowShe is my best friend, yeah

After she’s done Asami is still blushing a little but is also clearly pleased. Everyone tries to get her to get up and sing next but she turns them down. Wei orders her another drink.

Opal busts into Shake It Off, awkward dancing and all. She’s a little nervous and a little drunk and she gets a little giggly. Her brothers all shout encouragement. Bolin leaps up and points at her and informs everyone in the bar, a huge smile on his face, that she’s his wife.

Cause the players gonna play, play, playAnd the haters gonna hate, hate, hateBaby I’m just gonna shake, shake, shakeShake it off. Shake it offHeartbreakers gonna break, break, breakAnd the fakers gonna fake, fake, fakeBaby I’m just gonna shake, shake, shakeShake it off, Shake it off

When she’s done, Bolin tells her she’s the best singer in the whole world. He means it, too.

It’s Bolin’s turn and he says “I’m singing this for my brother and my wife and kids, my Mama used to sing this to Mako and me when we were little,” and shocks everyone by singing Bridge Over Troubled Water. The entire bar goes silent. Opal cries all over everything. Mako clears his throat a lot and refuses to make eye contact with anyone.

When you’re down and outWhen you’re on the streetWhen evening falls so hardI will comfort you I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comesAnd pain is all aroundLike a bridge over troubled waterI will lay me downLike a bridge over troubled waterI will lay me down

After he’s done he gets the most heartfelt applause of the night. There are no dry eyes.

Baatar Jr stands up and says something about not making people cry, and he launches into the most soulful rendition of Too Hard To Handle ever. He bumps and grinds, grinning the entire time at Ikki, who whoops and laughs her appreciation. By the end the rest of the bar has gotten into it as well, whistling through their teeth and stomping their feet.

Boys are things that come by the dozenThat ain’t nothin’ but drugstore lovin’Hey little thing let me light your candle‘Cause mama I’m sure hard to handle nowYes, I am

“I never knew your brother had it in him,” Korra whispers to Opal and Opal snorts and says, “Please, he’s a Beifong.” He sits back down next to Ikki and looks very pleased with himself. She kisses him until someone yells, “Get a room!”

Huan stands up, his eyes blinking rapidly, grabs the mic and says, “They don’t have the one I want to sing,” and then launches into an a cappella version of Be Prepared.

Be prepared! that’s the boy scouts’ solemn creed,Be prepared! and be clean in word and deed.Don’t solicit for your sister, that’s not nice,Unless you get a good percentage of her price.

When he’s done his siblings, Wu and Ikki are laughing wildly. Everyone else in the bar looks like they are not quite sure what to do.

Ikki gets up there, winks, and launches into Pony. The bar goes absolutely fucking bananas. She sells the shit out of it, too, getting off the stage and slinking around the audience. She even gives Nuo a little bit of a lap dance. (Nuo immediately bumps someone else off her Exceptions List and adds Ikki.)

If we’re gonna get nasty, babyFirst we’ll show and tellTill I reach your ponytailLurk all over and through you babyUntil we reach the streamYou’ll be on my jockey team

When’s she’s done she primly takes her seat and pretends to be surprised at all of the fuss. “I fucking love you,” Baatar says into her ear. “I know,” she replies, and looks very smug.

Yumi’s up next and since she can’t sing her way out of a paper bag she talks her way through Rock Lobster. Korra leaps up onto the stage with her and does all of the background OOs and SCOOBYDOOs and AAAAAAHs, joined by Ikki, Bolin and Wei. Most of the audience obligingly goes down down down with the music, and by the end most of the bar is surfing along with the music as well.

Motion in the ocean (Ooh ah)His air hose broke (Hoo ah)Lots of trouble (Ooh ah)Lots of bubble (Hoo ah)He was in a jam (Ooh ah)He’s in a giant clam! (Hoo ah)

She brings the bar to its feet.

Asami is finally convinced to get up there. (Mostly because Wei’s been getting her liquored up.) She sings along to She Works Hard For The Money. It takes her a little while to get into it, but everyone is very encouraging and she loosens up and has some fun by the end. Every time she sings “She works hard for the money,” Korra belts out, “So hard for it, honey!” in return, grinning.

She works hard for the moneySo hard for it, honeyShe works hard for the moneySo you better treat her right

She gets a large round of applause when she’s done and she sits back down. “Okay, that was pretty fun,” she says to Korra, and Korra just kisses her.

Meelo’s the last one of their group, and he rips into Revolution with some feeling.

You say you want a revolutionWell, you knowWe all want to change the worldYou tell me that it’s evolutionWell, you knowWe all want to change the worldBut when you talk about destructionDon’t you know that you can count me out

When he’s done, Korra slings and arm around him and hugs him tightly. “I’ll talk to him,” she says, but Meelo just shrugs. “It won’t do any good.”

They aren’t done: Ikki and Nuo and Korra and Wei do an impromptu version of Lady Marmalade which ends up in Wei falling off the stage and Wu and Yumi sing Over The Rainbow together and it is so bad it’s actually sort of good (only not really) and everyone gets into some Bohemian Rhapsody (while letting Wing carry all of the actual tricky singing parts) and it’s a good thing that everyone has taken cabs to the bar because no one should be driving home at that point.