#just found out each song has its own track cover image! cool! more for my overworking brain to think about green fuzzy aliens!!!

[homiu-l]

YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME

[shihalyfie]

Comparing the original Best Partner character song series and the new one, and what that says about the 02 cast

So if you haven’t heard yet, a new series of 02 (it’s actually Kizuna) character songs dropped! Allegedly intended as a slightly delayed 20th anniversary project, the series is a callback to the original “Best Partner” character song album series that released during 02′s actual airing.

If you know anything about the original Best Partner series, it’s one that sets an insanely high bar, even for Digimon standards (and that’s saying something, given the deep associations this franchise has with music). The series of character songs before it, Adventure’s “Character Song + Mini Drama” series, has a…kind of questionable amount of relevance to each character; it’s not like they’re super amazingly out of character, but they don’t really tell you a lot about each character beyond some gloss details (this is probably best demonstrated in how Mimi’s song is blatantly just an AiM single disguised as a Mimi song). Best Partner, on the other hand, very intimately goes into each character’s head and their relationships with their respective partners, even putting in direct words what wasn’t stated explicitly in the series.

So does the new series live up to the high bar its predecessor sets? Answer: on top of some abnormal attention to detail on the covers, it is very obvious that the new series not only has a lot of the depth of the 02 characters in mind, but also is made in direct response to the original series itself. Moreover, putting the original Best Partner series and this one side by side reveals a lot about each of the 02 characters and what they got out of 02′s story, in a surprisingly neat summary.

Let’s go into how!

Since this is something that has a deep relationship with all of these characters in regards to the series, this particular meta would not have been possible without input from multiple people who know these characters better than I could ever hope to by myself. Thank you for all of your help.

A bit of historical context

The original Best Partner series consisted of a set of albums, one representing each pair of partners in 02. Notably, even though nowadays there’s a specific order of the Adventure/02 characters that’s used in modern media, not only does the original series not follow that ordering (as it hadn’t been set in stone at the time), it also leads with the original Adventure characters and not the 02 ones, which is pretty unusual for a series that’s ostensibly supposed to be for 02 (modern lineups will usually favor leading with whichever group the relevant product is branded with).

A lot of this probably makes more sense when you realize that the original Best Partner series was released during the first half of 02’s airing. The final album was released on August 23, 2000, four days before the fateful 02 episode 21 (yes, that means the third track on Ken and Wormmon’s album is actually a spoiler). So in other words, while the original Best Partner series accurately reflects the older Adventure group’s character development and what problems they were able to sufficiently overcome, the 02 group does not have anything about their character development from 02′s second half reflected in it at all.

That’s actually a really huge disparity, when you think about it, especially because a lot happened with the 02 group in that second half – that second half was where the emotional payoff and the results of everything that had been building up over that first half came together. So in comparison to the Adventure group, composed of people confidently talking about what they’ve decided for themselves from now on, you still have the 02 group drenched pretty deeply in insecurity. Watch 02 to the end and listen to those songs again, and you might even think “wait, this is supposed to represent these characters?” So, in essence, the new Best Partner series serves to address that gap, and what the 02 group gained and learned out of 02′s second half.

Best Partner (and its successor series for Tamers, Best Tamers) follows a uniform format: a solo song for the human partner, a solo song for the Digimon partner, and a duet between the two. (Given that, the original Best Partner series was really huge, at a whole 36 songs.) Recalling that, in the Adventure universe, a Digimon partner reflects the human’s inner self and psyche, it’s pretty extensive coverage: what the human has to say about themself, what place their Digimon partner is in relative to that, and what the nature of their relationship is due to that.

Let’s go into each pair of partners in detail!

Daisuke and V-mon

For those who love 02 and love Daisuke in particular, when you ask “what kind of character is Daisuke like?” or “what’s Daisuke’s best quality?”, you’re probably going to get answers like “forward-thinking” or “positive” or “good at uplifting others” – basically everything to do with how Daisuke is an encouraging presence who doesn’t give in easily and has a strong mentality of moving forward in the face of despair. Someone who appreciates and understands others’ best qualities, and loves them for everything they are. So when you look at his original Best Partner solo song, Goggle Boy…

But more than just saving the world I really don’t want to lose, you know

…Uh…

These goggles are my proof Given by a certain someone to me The precious thing he handed over It’s just like his Crest, you know Aren’t they cool?

…Well, that’s nowhere to be found.

This is the kind of song that might make you think “wait, this is supposed to be Daisuke’s representative song?!” (It’s possibly because of this that Daisuke’s song from The Bridge to Dreams, Tomorrow, generally tended to be far more favored among Daisuke fans, although it’s more relevant to 02 as a whole than it is to Daisuke in particular.) if you listen to Goggle Boy knowing about what Daisuke’s best qualities should be, this is almost a little frustrating, because this is the kind of thing he really shouldn’t be pigeonholed as – basically, begging for others’ approval and praise and focusing on idolizing others. Even his most insightful moments in this song come from his appreciation of something that came from someone else (Taichi), not from himself.

Well, the thing is, that was Daisuke’s character for most of the first half of 02. Of course, even in early episodes, there were many times where Daisuke’s potential for positivity and forward-thinkingness were starting to poke through, but most of the time he was rolling over trying to please others and chasing after his seniors. The real period of time he started to grow into his own about this was 02 episode 24 and its aftermath – when his time spent with his friends started to fill the void in his life and his need for validation, and the escalating situation, especially with Ken, led him to have a proper grasp of what was properly important and what needed to be done.

So when we get to his new solo, RUNNING MAN…

I’ll keep on running far ahead Let’s bring everyone along with me, today, too Really, always, thank you, Thank you so much Riding the wind, going past the sky Grasping your hands and flying I’m even starting to see beyond my dreams

Even in only one section, you can get an instant image of the Motomiya Daisuke we all know and love – someone who appreciates his friends’ role in his life, loves their company, and moves positively towards the future. Because, again, after the events of 02, and after being able to bond further with his friends and gaining his own strengths in leading everyone forward, he became able to more properly express his love for everything instead of constantly vying for others’ attention. Even the title reflects the change, from a “boy” who’s flashing the symbol of courage he got from someone else, to a “man” who’s positively running forward on his own merits.

(Interestingly, RUNNING MAN is composed by Ohta Michihiko, a legendary composer who’s made many of some of the most important songs in the franchise, and also composed many of the original Best Partner songs, including Goggle Boy. It’s interesting how RUNNING MAN is the one most like the original songs in atmosphere as a result – possibly representing how Daisuke is a simple-minded person who ostensibly doesn’t change drastically in disposition – yet has lyrical content that’s so starkly different.)

As a result, this is subtly reflected in the other two songs in each album as well – remember that V-mon is one of the partners who most “matches” his own partner in terms of disposition and mentality. So as Daisuke shifted his own priorities, V-mon did too; we go from Go Ahead! being about taking a stand and fighting, whereas Beyond the Future is about a similar forward-thinking mentality to Daisuke’s.

Likewise, the duets have different priorities as well; 2-TOP was composed of Daisuke and V-mon bickering for the most of it, and the most substantial point you could get about it was that despite their bickering, they made it work, whereas HEY-rasshai! has them almost entirely in sync (with one minor moment of deviance). It’s also interesting to see the topics covered in each; 2-TOP is about soccer, which ultimately is revealed to be a fairly incidental hobby for Daisuke, whereas HEY-rasshai! is about ramen making, which, while comical, also has a very strong tie to “Daisuke’s dream for the future, and his willingness to single-mindedly dedicate himself to something when it’s something he truly wants”. In other words, while Daisuke knew what he wanted since elementary school, it says a lot that he’s at a point where he and V-mon are now taking proactive steps to have that dream achieved, now that they’re able.

Ken and Wormmon

Like with his position in 02 itself, Ken’s is probably the easiest to see the contrast without trying too hard, but there’s still quite a lot to unpack!

When you think about it, in the modern era, it’s actually surprisingly hard to find stuff too relevant to Ken’s time as the Kaiser. The reason is, simply, that the series itself discourages this – Ken himself had an obvious aversion to dwelling too much on it, and the entire series itself has a strong theme of “moving on”. It’s not to say that the Kaiser doesn’t have a fanbase (I’m sorry if you’re reading this and find that I might be implying too hard that you don’t exist), but rather that there’s a franchise and fanart tendency to focus more on “Ken-chan” than “the Kaiser” these days, and old merch from the first half of the series will all too often get responses of “it’s really sad Ken-chan can’t be there…” Of course, 02 itself was also about accepting one’s mistakes, not pretending they never happened, so it’d be foolhardy to deny Ken’s dark history entirely, but it’s retroactively interesting to see such a prominent and persistent piece of merch like Ken and Wormmon’s original Best Partner album focus so largely on Ken’s time as the Kaiser when most of the franchise ended up trying to move on.

Starting with Ken’s solo songs, and his first one, ONLY ONE:

I’ve lived without showing my true feelings, wearing this mask

Well, this was easy to tell from the series itself, but the point driven home is that Ken didn’t want to expose his true self to others, putting on a front of “strength” and smashing his true feelings into the corner so that he could become more of the “perfect” person he thought he was supposed to be. There’s also another interesting line that one should pay attention to:

I polished the knife in my heart and put my belief in infinite power

Basically, putting up a defensive front to prevent anything from approaching his weaknesses.

Anyway, moving onto his new song, Never Ending:

If I want to be proud of tomorrow’s version of myself I wonder, what can I do? Never Give-up I’ll keep fighting, even doing someone else’s part No, I won’t be afraid anymore

First of all, the main theme of the song is about putting conscious thought into understanding how to stay true to himself – basically, understanding what it is he really wants to do and become, instead of putting on fronts and hiding it from others. Not only that, we see traces of what exactly he gained over the course of the second half of 02 – because so much of it involved constantly trying to blame himself for everything, this song is about what he came to learn in terms of proactively making it up and actively fighting forward. He’s working hard!

We also have this part:

The knife that’s pointed at someone, or at myself If it’s been let go of

Two things going on here: firstly, we have an explicit reference to the metaphorical “knife” Ken referred to putting up in ONLY ONE, talking about finally letting it go instead of bothering with this kind of front. He also points out that, in a sense, the knife was pointed at himself too, either in the sense of actually having hurt himself through this entire ideal, or in the sense that he constantly was trying to blame and punish himself for everything. None of that should be necessary anymore. Moreover, Never Ending contains a lot of references to “daily life” and the happiness that comes with the simplicity of just being alive – because that was indeed what Ken gained through his experiences, the ability to treasure living life in itself instead of aspiring to an impossible standard.

Another interesting thing about Never Ending is that it’s technically in a similar rock genre to ONLY ONE instead of being “soft”, like Ken’s personality is often thought to be. This was a surprise to a lot of people who commented on how surprisingly “cool” the song was, but this is actually completely in line with Ken arguably being one of the most openly assertive people in this group even after his reformation. Note that it’s very difficult to call this song purely angsty – it’s definitely positive and forward-thinking, and the chorus itself is partially in major key – but it has the vibe of someone who’s fully aware of everything that’s happened, is putting proper thought into it, and is pushing on despite everything. Remember, the intensity the Kaiser had originally came from somewhere; Ichijouji Ken is the same person, in the end.

In regards to Wormmon’s song, the contrast is also obvious: The Future You Dreamed of, the Future I Dreamed Of. is of course about Wormmon’s tormented feelings during the Kaiser’s abusive relationship with him, whereas can change it! is about its aftermath and how they made up (including copious references to the events of 02 episode 23). Even then, there’s a certain “forward-thinking” attitude that marks this song as being representative of being after 02’s events and not during – see the line “The mistake we made that day/is exactly the reason we’ll never let it happen again”, instead of the self-punishment and shame Stingmon expressed in 02 episode 26).

On top of that, the duet song Forever Adolescence also marks a subtle progression from the point they were at from True Strength – remembering that Best Partner 12 was released at a time when True Strength was actually a bit of a spoiler, while Ken and Wormmon obviously had made up by that point, the key line in it is still “everything truly begins from here”. So what, exactly, happened after that? According to Forever Adolescence, the decision made was to keep moving forward, and, moreover, to stay “the way they are”, especially with the nuance that it means it’s okay to not force oneself into the role of an adult and stay “young at heart”. This is really, really important in light of the events of Kizuna, the 02 group’s unusual role in it and its relevance to 02′s themes (more on this below), and how Spring 2003 referred to the pressure placed on Osamu as him being “forced to grow up too quickly” – in essence, Ken and Wormmon have firmly resolved to actively move away from that kind of pressure.

Miyako and Hawkmon

I’ve pointed out several times on this blog that the actual complex Miyako was going through in 02 was that she hated herself more than anyone else in the group would be willing to criticize her – and if you don’t believe me, it’s put in a pretty heavy-handed manner in her original song, Crash and Bingo!:

Fussing about it won’t get anything done But my selfishness and problems and panic keep coming out

…and even more viciously in her own and Hawkmon’s duet, Fly High:

I can’t do anything right, besides playing around with computers

or

Everyone would be still be fine if I weren’t there

If you thought it was subtle in the main series, it certainly isn’t here: Miyako considered herself good for absolutely nothing and unable to be accepted by others for being too useless – in these songs, despite Hawkmon’s attempts to uplift her, she criticizes her own messy tendencies and considers herself a burden. Best Partner is a positive series, so it still has the attitude of “we’ll try anyway”, but it’s clear that Miyako really didn’t have the highest opinion of herself at all. Hence, Fly High also shows off the worst of Hawkmon having to deal with the fallout – with Miyako flailing around in panic and considering herself good for nothing, he’s forced to carry her around.

But come Miyako’s new solo, From Spain with Love!, we see a huge contrast all over the place:

I, who have evolved into an adult make everyone do a double-take at me when I walk by!

Exhibit A: actual confidence in herself and ability to consider herself worth something;

If I can always, always be honest with myself Even if I don’t put together some program, even if I keep screwing up Ah, you understand me

Exhibit B: understanding that she’s worth something to others besides her utility abilities, and knowing that she has friends who’ll support her despite her flaws (which is very true);

When things are feeling hard, the first thing you should do is call me, okay? I’ll take the wings of love and purity, spread them, and get there as fast as I can Ah, I’ll open up any gate I need to

Exhibit C: indulging in her capacity for helping and supporting others;

Al mal tiempo, buena cara We laugh exactly when things are hard

Exhibit D: understanding the strength to get through hard times, instead of emotionally crumbling under the pressure.

Yep, that’s exactly what her character arc in 02 was about; 02 episode 31 was a huge turning point for her because, in the depths of her berating herself for her messiness and expecting Hikari to be secretly judging her the whole time, Hikari revealed that she was outright jealous of Miyako being able to speak her mind, and Miyako shortly after ended up showing her true capacity for reaching others who needed her help and supporting them, a role she ended up growing into for the rest of the series. Note that, other than the casual remark of confidence at the beginning, Miyako hasn’t necessarily become arrogant or anything – it’s just that, by focusing her energies into how much she loves everyone and turning her “nosiness” and “sticking herself into others’ business” tendencies into positive energy to help everyone, she gained more confidence in her ability to be loved and accepted by others.

This is reflected as well in her new duet with Hawkmon, where, instead of Hawkmon dragging her around everywhere, their differences and mismatched personalities are outright celebrated, and while Miyako still has awareness of her messy tendencies, she’s no longer letting it emotionally rip her apart and has confidence that Hawkmon can be by her side to help her through it. Perhaps reflecting that, Hawkmon himself goes from the over-the-top, dramatic, high-strung Knight of Love to the more calm and straightforward Gentle Tornado, perhaps because his own partner isn’t constantly bouncing off the walls recklessly nearly as much anymore.

Incidentally, it’s not like all of this is without nuance, either; even if Miyako’s become more of a confident person, she’s not all put-together. Considering that the entire song has her gushing about how she’d be willing to drop anything to go see her friends (which was pushed forward in Kizuna itself, what with her willingly taking the same request she’d refused to do earlier just because her friends were involved, and even inventing D-3 gate exploitation just to go see them), when you get to the end, and her gushing about her fun in Spain suddenly derails into reminiscing about the events of 02 episode 42, the implication is clear: for as much as she wants to be wholeheartedly enjoying this fun trip abroad for what it is, she can’t help but let her thoughts float back to memories and friends she cares about, and her bonus conversation with Hawkmon drives it in further that, ultimately, she dearly misses them too much.

Iori and Armadimon

Iori also went through some drastic changes in character over the course of 02, so when you look at My Conclusion, it’s basically Iori at his “worst” point of black-and-white morality:

Everyone, I will be speaking my conclusion Evil will not be tolerated Even evil in itself will be defeated by justice That will always be a certainty in the end

I mean, let’s even consider the fact that the song is called “My Conclusion” in the first place. Iori’s slamming this all down like this is the end-all of everything, and you can’t change his mind! He does briefly admit that there are certain things reason itself won’t change, but it’s more like he’s on the verge of having an out, because in the end, really…

Everyone, I will be speaking my conclusion Our enemies are beyond reason Again and again, to the very end They will certainly use cowardly means to come and attack us

Rationality. No feelings involved. Evil is evil, and justice is justice. No takebacks. Life exists by rules, and nothing else.

Message to the Future is possibly one of the most interesting songs in the original Best Partner collection, because it does actually provide hints about where Iori should be going in the future, and also has a lot of things that retroactively hit a lot harder from the meta perspective. The song fully fleshes out Iori’s feelings and concerns about how to grow up into a proper adult (which was hinted to be his real motivation as to why he was so strict with himself in 02), and that, most of all, what he wants is for his “feelings” to never change no matter what happens. Iori expresses concerns about how he might change as an adult to Armadimon, and Armadimon assures him that he’ll still be “Iori”, no matter what.

So, come the new character song collection, Iori’s new solo song is aptly titled “Things That Won’t Change” – because, in the end, despite everything that changed, his feelings did not. He says it himself: the important parts that he really wanted, the desire to do the right thing and to protect others, never changed a bit at all since “back then”. What did change, however, was his way of going about it.

Rather than what someone else has decided I’ve chosen my own future now

and again:

Rather than imitating someone else This is to shout out my own future

The emphasis on this being Iori’s own choice is important because Iori has finally decided not to live by strict rules imposed on him nor by imitating others (remember, part of the reason he kept doing what he did back in 02 was because he had such a strong belief “my father would have done this”). Others had been encouraging him to “make his own decisions” from the get-go – even Hida Chikara himself had told him that he was the one who needed to decide what to do in any moment in 02 episode 5 – and after dealing with a violation of his own morals in having to kill a Digimon in 02 episode 44, one episode later, in discussing with Takeru, Iori has to come to terms with the decision to continue fighting because “this is what I have decided myself”, because it’s not about whether he has an obligation to keep fighting for the sake of justice, but because he, himself, wants to protect others, and will do what it takes to do so. There’s no more of these strict rules of “because it must be this way” or the black-and-white morality that caused him to be so initially hostile towards Ken and Oikawa, but an understanding that these things need to be decided from the heart.

Moreover, unlike My Conclusion, Things That Won’t Change isn’t written like Iori’s turning in some school essay, but rather, more than half the song is in casual-form Japanese (which was associated with Iori when he became more emotional and wasn’t keeping himself in check anymore), and is more of a thoughtful reflection of his own feelings rather than trying to pass itself off as following rules because he must.

Thus, while the duet Choo Choo Tryin’ isn’t as heavy-handed as Message to the Future, Iori and Armadimon acknowledge that they need to be forward-thinking and keep going (generally tied to the message of 02 in itself), and Iori outright discusses the potential pitfalls of becoming too stiff. Furthermore, the song has copious rap portions, which seems rather unfitting for Iori on its face – until you realize that not only was Iori sometimes willing to indulge in more fun even back during 02 (just because he was strict with himself didn’t mean he was a complete killjoy), Iori’s also just a lot more flexible-minded in general, and has a penchant for wanting to do things right when he’s given a task. (His delivery of the rap in the song isn’t monotonous nor overly emotional, but has the nuance of someone who’s trying to recite all of it with caution.)

The part that’s particularly striking from the meta perspective is that Iori and Armadimon are no longer voiced by the same voice actress; Message to the Future was essentially Urawa Megumi talking to herself. So now, Iori has a new voice actor, and in many ways has become very different from Armadimon – but because Armadimon sounds a little like Iori, you could say he’s helping preserve the childish side of Iori that’s more important than ever to hold onto, especially since Iori himself worried about changing too much. And so, Iori’s still willing to indulge in a sort of “fun” song like this, and in the end, despite everything, you understand that they haven’t drifted apart at all in the slightest.

That’s not to say that Armadimon himself hasn’t changed either – in fact, he’s changed himself in response to how much Iori has. His original solo song had a lot of easygoingness to it, and some constant reminders for Iori to please, please chill – but his new one has a much stronger sense of resolve and forward-thinking attitude, reflecting that, while Iori himself technically had to learn to embrace more emotional uncertainty through the events of 02, it was also able to give him much stronger resolve that this was something he was doing because he was emotionally prepared for it, not out of some sense of moral obligation.

Takeru and Patamon

I’ve already covered Takeru’s original Best Partner song Focus and how it’s probably not about shipping as much as the fanbase tends to pin it as, but in any case, the operative part is here:

Before I knew it, I was watching over you Still standing at a skewed angle from behind The focus of your heart I wonder, is it on me, or… No, I can’t ask

Takeru couldn’t bring himself to ask sensitive questions or be straightforward about his emotions – which is basically what was Takeru’s lingering problem over Adventure and 02, that he kept swerving around or even lying about sensitive topics and holding everything inside, until one of his triggers was hit and everything exploded. Therefore, even when an important question about someone else comes up, he “can’t ask”. Moreover, for all Takeru is known as a lighthearted and kind person, Focus is a really turbulent song with a really harsh arrangement, and it’s a pretty accurate view of all the complicated and sometimes even negative emotions that Takeru was (badly) coping with over the course of 02.

This was the whole issue with Takeru and Iori’s Jogress arc in 02 episodes 34-36 – that Iori felt he couldn’t understand nor communicate well with Takeru, and had to eventually take matters into his own hands in order to properly understand his feelings. Takeru’s further interactions with Iori were significantly more straightforward for the rest of the series, and the experience also led to Takeru being able to more openly communicate with Ken as well, since the two had been on awkward speaking terms for most of the third quarter of the series.

So when we get to Step High Step…

You lament, you don’t have confidence in yourself I’m saying this to you as I’ve been watching you You’re amazing at all times

The song features Takeru being fairly straightforward about his feelings and opinions instead of just dodging it and going for an “everything’s okay” keeping-the-peace attitude, and not only that, he’s commenting on someone else, something that he probably would have refrained from in 02 for being intrusive. Of course, Takeru was always a nice person, but he wasn’t exactly straightforward about being nice back then – and yet here we are.

Since Focus is probably about his relationship with Patamon and how he kind of wasn’t exactly straightforward about his worries with him either (see 02 episode 34), it’s also interesting to compare Takeru and Patamon’s duet songs as well. Steppin’ out does portray a progression from Adventure in that they’ve accepted they can “do things over” again after things crash down (presumably referring to Angemon’s death and rebirth), but you’ll notice there isn’t much in the way of actual communciation between the two – something that’s not only present in Le Lien, but also portrays them as outright in-sync to the point of “telepathy”. We’re talking about a pair where the fanbase has historically had doubts about how similar they were back in 02 because of how “mismatched” they seemed!

Which, incidentally, they weren’t actually – you can see Patamon pretending he’s not about to cry in his original Best Partner song Don’t Stop Pata-Pata, much like how Takeru would cover up his own emotions, and gritting his teeth and resolving to fight harder. Meanwhile, while Ring of Smiles ostensibly continues to have Patamon be “sweet and cute”, it contains a lot of important nuances of “appreciating daily life with friends”, even if Patamon himself can’t quite find words for it – in other words, it’s actually some rather insightful and thoughtful sentiments from Patamon about the importance of being with and connecting with others, mirroring what Takeru himself learned in connecting with the others around him, especially Iori.

Hikari and Tailmon

Remember, Hikari has two lines (one in Adventure and one in 02) that basically summarize the main “issue” she was dealing with in both series: she was selfless to unhealthy levels, and would prioritize others’ welfare over herself to the point of self-destruction. So in her original solo Best Partner song, Gentle Rain, she puts it pretty explicitly:

I want to always be wearing nothing but smiles But I can’t be cheerful all of the time

or:

So that I can become a greater version of myself Please give me strength

All things considered, Gentle Rain is full of Hikari’s own insecurities, and her belief that she doesn’t have enough strength to do anything for herself. She makes references to being pulled to the Dark Ocean, mainly because – as she says – she doesn’t want to go there, but she doesn’t have enough strength or willpower to resist it. In fact, Best Partner 11 is full of a lot of angst; Gentle Rain is Hikari angsting about her own weakness and inability to do much for herself, Getting up is Tailmon angsting about her painful past and everything to do with it, and Shining Star is basically a plea for both of them to be able to do anything despite all the pain. It’s all pretty severely heavy content, despite the initial sparkly-looking sentiment of it all.

Considering the circumstances, it’s not really all that surprising. Hikari spent her time in Adventure and the first half of 02 very “emotionally isolated” from the others, to the point very few people could understand what she was thinking, and while she’d never hesitate to put herself out for other people, anything to do with herself, like getting pulled to the Dark Ocean, would result in resignation “it’s over” and “I can’t do anything about it”. Tailmon came from the background of being effectively raised by the abusive Vamdemon, so 02 was really only part of the earliest portion of her moving on with her life and being able to spend happier moments with Hikari. But, of course, the real turning point was 02 episode 31, when Miyako finally managed to break through to her and convince her to not accept the inevitability of things happening to herself, to accept help with the support of others, and to not take things happening to her as a sign she’s doomed.

So when we reach Hikari’s new solo song, Tomorrow’s Blue…

I want to chase after my dreams and hopes, it’s fine even if they’re incomplete I won’t lose, I won’t stop, I’ll do this to stay true to myself

The most striking thing about the song is that it features Hikari assertively talking about her own desires and feelings, when back in 02 she basically tried to kick them out of the picture for the sake of everyone else (and, really, even in Tailmon’s new solo song, Tender tale, she outright calls Hikari out for still prioritizing other people over herself). It’s not demeaning herself, it’s not resigning herself to anything, it may have a slight admission that she’s not super-confident about everything yet, but it’s still her looking forward and choosing to pursue what he wants. It’s a big deal!

And instead of the constant angst that permeated Best Partner 11, the new album is about Hikari and Tailmon talking about their feelings towards each other – something that neither of them really verbalized that well over either Adventure and 02 – and contextualizing their importance to each other over the course of their “story”. Hikari talks about Tailmon’s role of assertiveness in helping her break out of her shell, and Tailmon generally provides an extremely accurate description of Hikari in a nutshell – that she’s a bit mysterious, that she’s emotionally sensitive, that she’s cheerful and lifts others’ spirits. What’s more, Tailmon makes a reference to the same kind of “pain” and “losing things” she referred to in Getting up, but instead of angsting about it, she positively accepts it as something that may happen in the process of protecting others. (Oh, and it and the new duet A Tale of the Light also make reference to Hikari’s photography hobby in 02, contextualizing it as something Hikari did to chronicle their precious memories.)

So in summary, Hikari and Tailmon have both been able to accept 02′s philosophy of becoming forward-thinking, positive, and accepting the help of others in order to move forward. Not bad!

Conclusion and digression

Despite how these songs are almost polar opposite in portraying their before-and-after development of the 02 kids, nobody’s really argued that any of them are out of character! In the end, it’s a pretty succinct depiction of what these kids were dealing with and what they grew into by the end of the series. Seriously, I never, ever want to hear that these kids were underdeveloped nor that they didn’t go through any significant development over the course of 02 ever again. That’s just not true at all, and this simply happens to be one of the many illustrations of how.

Moreover, the songs themselves and the “conversations” that came with the new albums solidify firmly that the 02 group has extremely tight relations with their partners even at this time – with Daisuke actively consulting V-mon for help, Miyako, Takeru, and Hikari actively dragging their partners everywhere with them, Ken having Wormmon be his effective alarm clock, and Iori being so close with Armadimon that his Nagoya dialect is rubbing off on him. Daisuke, Miyako and Hikari have a huge point made that, regardless of the rather easygoing way they’re going at it, they’re very aware of what they want to do from this point out and are following it with gusto (and while it’s not stated in words, Iori carrying a huge textbook, presumably a law one, with note markers all over it drives the point home that this applies to him, too). It’s a really, really huge contrast to what was going on with the directionless Taichi, Yamato, and Sora effectively neglecting their own partners back in Kizuna – and further reinforces the reason the 02 group was in such an unusually favorable position during the movie.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Willful Disobedience”

Clervalstein yearning goes brrrrrrr

Anyways- uh... so as I said at the beginning of pride month, my goal for June is to write at least one directly Clervalstein related AU segment each week because gay. 

This time around, I was inspired to write about the events that led to how Henry would eventually find Victor and the Creature on the mountain, so in terms of timeline, this takes place before all segments I’ve written except for “Home Again” and “Same Scars, Same Stitches.”

A couple of fun little tidbits about the making of this segment (feel free to skip over them and get right to the segment below the cut, this is just me rambling about some inspiration):

1. The whole bit with Victor drawing and the Creature mimicking him by drawing as well was somewhat inspired by the “Forbidden Friendship” scene from How to Train Your Dragon. I listened to that specific track from the movie score a few times while I was in the process of thinking about this idea!

2. Another bit of musical inspiration actually came from the Chronicles of Narnia, specifically the track “Evacuating London” from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. If you time it just right and you’re somebody who can actively read and listen to music at the same time, it should somewhat line up with the last few paragraphs (excluding Henry’s bit at the end) - starting at where Victor says “I’d give anything-”, then with the little piano part being timed with the paragraph that starts with “It was intricately detailed-”, then the major swell in that half of the song should line up with the paragraph where the Creature begins feeling the need to disobey Victor’s most important rules; then comes the part that begins with a bit of bells and eventually vocalization, and that entire half of the track should align with the Creature carrying out his plan at least most of the way. Of course - all of this depends on your reading speed, but I would definitely recommend listening to the song after reading at least and imagining those parts of the segment along with it if you’re interested in a little peek into my crazy writing process! 😅

Anyways- this is another wholesome segment, so no warnings needed to my knowledge!

As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated!

~~~

Sunlight warmed the cold stone of the mountain ridge upon which Victor sat. His sleeves were rolled up on his arms, as the heat from the summer sun was felt much more intensely up on the mountain top despite the cool alpine breeze. Heavy clouds capped the peaks beyond though the sky was primarily a clear blue, and mist drifted through the valleys below. Though the view was magnificent, the sketchbook that sat on Victor’s knee contained no trace of the mountains. His eyes darted from the open page to the horizon, but it wasn’t the horizon he was searching for. As he stared over the peaks beyond, it wasn’t the view itself he focussed on, and instead an image that was clear in his mind. With a slight smile at the thought, he turned his gaze back down to the page and continued his sketching. It wasn’t long before the smile faded as the sound of quiet, careful footfalls upon the stone broke the calm silence, and he became aware of a presence directly beside him. He instinctively scooted himself about a half inch away as the other figure slowly sat at his side, his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate harder on his sketching. “What are you doing?” came the inquisitive voice of his creation, and he felt the looming figure lean over in an attempt to view what he was drawing. With a further frown, Victor covered over his sketch with his other hand and turned away.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he grumbled in reply. The creature tried to get a better look, but Victor’s hand covered over too much of it for him to be able to see. He sat there for a moment longer, his mind wandering and his gaze flitting about from view to view as he tried to decide what it was he should do. Now that the cabin was finally completed, he found himself with a lack of activities to keep him busy, and though his creator was certainly better company now than he had been when he first arrived to the mountain, he still wasn’t much of a conversationalist and was often preoccupied with his own thoughts or projects. Out of ideas, he hummed something softly to himself, some tune he had once heard Victor singing one day many weeks ago. Victor lifted his eyes at the sound and glanced over at him, but the moment the creature returned his gaze, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his sketching. Quieting himself at his creator’s reaction, the creature sighed and stood, walking back toward the cabin. Victor almost felt bad - almost - but he kept drawing, now absentmindedly humming the same tune. After a few minutes, he became distracted by the sound of footsteps once again, but this time the creature sat a ways away from him. He went quiet, trying to ignore his creation and keep his focus, but he heard the scratching of another pen on paper, then a pause, then more scratching, and he felt himself being watched. With an exasperated sigh, Victor dropped his pen beside him and looked over to the creature. “What on earth are you doing?” The creature looked up at him, his expression blank.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he answered matter-of-factly. Victor stared at him a moment, then frowned.

“Back talking me? That’s new.” The creature blinked, but didn’t answer, instead turning back down to the piece of paper that lay on his knee and continuing to draw something on it. Now thoroughly curious, Victor stood, walking over to him and standing behind him to look over his shoulder. The creature made no efforts to hide his drawing, and Victor could clearly see the rough beginnings of a person sitting in the exact same pose he had been sitting in. “Are you… drawing me drawing Henry?”

“Ah, so you were drawing someone named Henry.” Victor blushed furiously.

“Oh you sly bastard,” he muttered. The creature glanced up at him. “How clever of you, to get an answer out of me like that.”

“That was not my intention, but I cannot say I am disappointed by the result,” the creature responded simply. Victor sighed, sitting down beside him before flopping dramatically onto his back. Now trying to think based on memory, the creature gazed off into the distance before looking down at his paper and continuing to draw. “May I ask who this Henry person is?” he asked as he drew. “I hear you speak the name often. He must be of great importance to you.” Victor wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell his creation to mind his own business and stop prying into his personal life, and yet… he couldn’t be angry - not while Henry was the topic of the conversation, anyway.

“Henry is… was my…” He paused, carefully thinking about how to choose his words, “closest friend.” There was a length of silence as he felt an ache in his chest from the thought of Henry, and the creature took a moment away from his drawing before returning to it.

“Tell me about him,” he suggested as he sketched. Victor sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, holding his sketch of Henry over his heart as he stared into the sky.

“Where to even begin with him,” Victor uttered quietly.

“Describe him to me.” Victor lifted his sketch up and stared at it, before holding it out to the creature. The creature glanced up, and looked at it with a curious expression. Victor gave him a curt nod, signaling that he was welcome to inspect it closer, so he gently took it from Victor’s hand and inspected it closely.

“He’s tall, but not too tall - just tall enough that I have to look up in order to look into his eyes. And he’s always well dressed - I don’t think there’s ever been a day when he wasn’t looking his best, though I suppose I might be a bit biased on that.” For a moment he wondered just how much further he should go with his description. How could he describe someone like Henry without giving his true feelings away? He hesitated, then sighed with a smile. His creation already knew one of his secrets, and, after all, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere or seeing anyone else, so what harm was there in completely venting his thoughts? “He has the most thoughtful hazel eyes, toffee brown around the edges and streaked with emerald green that deepens toward the pupils, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long.” The creature’s pen went still and he looked up toward the horizon, trying to imagine what Victor was describing. “And his hair is long - not quite so long as yours, but ends just past his shoulders - and lays in tangled waves always kept tied back, though a few strands never fail to set themselves free. When the sun hits it just right, I could swear it was made of fire,” Victor breathed as he pictured it in his mind. “It’s the kind of brilliant auburn that takes your breath away, that seems to gleam with its own radiant light. Sometimes I swear he’s more angel than man, and perhaps if angels do exist, he may well be one of them.” The creature smiled, but the smile soon faded as his mind drifted to Paradise Lost and further to his past. He blinked the thought away, then turned his eyes back down to his art, setting Victor’s drawing of Henry down at his side. “He’s covered with what must be thousands of freckles, mostly concentrated on his cheeks but they expand over his face and at the very least his arms, chest, and back. I would liken them to… dark stars against a bright sky,” Victor explained. He raised an arm up and began tracing lines in the air as he continued. “I used to try to find constellations among them, and sometimes I thought I nearly could. Orion, Andromeda, Lepus, Lynx, Pegasus, Phoenix, Vulpecula,” he muttered each constellation as he imagined himself tracing the lines between freckles on Henry’s skin, his chocolate brown eyes seeming to light up with wonder as he grew to be lost in his own imagination.

“He barely sounds real,” the creature interjected nonchalantly, hardly looking up from his drawing as he began to focus closer on it. Victor grinned and chuckled softly.

“I tell myself that every day,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “Surely no man could ever be so perfect, and yet there he is-” He paused, reaching higher toward the sky and extending his fingers to feel the breeze between them, “as real as you and I.” His hand dropped back down to his chest as he heaved a sigh. “There’s no man on earth as generous or as compassionate as my-” He stopped himself, blushing hard as he realized what it was he was about to say. “As Henry, I mean. Just… just Henry.” The scratching of the creature’s pen stopped again, and Victor glanced over at him to see him staring ahead in clear contemplation of the implications of his words before returning to his art. “You know,” Victor began, returning his eyes to the sky. “I can just about guarantee that if it were Henry who made you instead of me, you would have turned out ok.” The weight of his words hadn’t set in before he said them, but now that they were out, they sat heavy on his chest like lead. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled unsteadily. “If it were him instead of me, William would still be alive.” At those words, the creature froze, as rather than a weight to him they felt like a dagger slowly piercing between his ribs and etching each letter directly onto his beating heart. “And to think… Even if it wasn’t him who made you, if it were him who found you here, perhaps your night terrors would have all but ceased by now. And maybe, by his grace, you would be at peace.” They sat in contemplative silence, both somehow altogether calmed and unnerved in each other's presence. “I’d give just about anything for him to be here,” Victor mentioned, breaking the silence and lifting himself up onto his hands. “And I know all it would take is one letter. He’d drop everything to come here. But that’s… that’s just it. That’s the problem.” He sighed, fully sitting upright. The creature glanced over at him. “I can’t let him just… ruin the rest of his life for me. I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing that I held him back because of my own mistakes.” His eyes dropped to his other side. “And yet… I barely know how I can live with myself without him here.” It was at that moment that he felt something being laid gently on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw the drawing the creature had been working on.

It was intricately detailed, each line placed carefully onto the page with such precision. Though it was only simple line art, Victor could clearly see the image of himself sketching from earlier on the page, but standing in front of him was another figure - Henry. He was exactly as Victor described him, tall and well dressed, with long hair tied back and a few strands that drifted over his face. Though there was no color, his eyes seemed just as gentle and full of wonder as Victor remembered them to be as he stared off to some distant land. His face was covered in tiny dots, freckles, each so meticulously pricked on that Victor could clearly trace some of the constellations he described between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he placed his fingers gently on the drawn image, running them gently down the drawing’s cheek, wishing instead of cool paper that it was the soft, warm touch of Henry’s face. “Did I do him justice?” the creature inquired quietly, trying to read his teary expression. Victor sniffled and smiled.

“You… you’re quite the artist,” he managed to answer. Gingerly, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll be back later. I need to take a walk and… clear my head,” Victor mentioned, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Will you be ok on your own?” The creature didn’t answer for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into the distance as he thought deeply, but soon he snapped his attention back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Take your time, Victor.” Victor sighed and nodded.

“I’ll try not to be too late to return.” His creation watched as he wandered off and eventually disappeared into the trees, before returning to his thoughts. It was strange - in all the months that he had been there, the creature had never once considered disobeying Victor, especially out of the fear that he might abandon him again. Suddenly, however, he felt the strong need to disobey each and every one of Victor’s most important rules. He hated to see his creator so struck with longing, but even more so, he considered the positive ramifications of what his carefully formulated plan might bring. Sure, Victor might be initially upset, but with how much he desperately wanted this Henry person to be there with him, surely it would be well worth it in the end.

The first part of his plan was simple. He would need to break Victor’s trust, and search through his personal belongings. He made his way back to the cabin and slipped into Victor’s room to find a mess of folded papers lying on the bed stand - each paper being a letter he had received from a Henry Clerval. Though all he was searching for was an address, the creature couldn’t help himself and decided to read through some of the letters. As he did, he became even more certain about his decision. Not only was this man exactly as Victor had described, but the connection between them was clearly something so strong that it should have been unbreakable. To his luck as well, the creature managed to find amongst the scattered papers a letter Victor had intended to send as a reply to Henry but never had the chance to send, dated from a time before his creation.

The second part of his plan would be the most time consuming, but also the most critical, and this unsent letter would prove to be the perfect resource. Retrieving his pen and a small stack of paper Victor had stashed away, he began crafting a letter of his own. With as much precision as he could muster, he forged Victor’s handwriting and did his best to copy his style and choice of language. A few hours were spent on this, most of that time spent on crafting one single sentence until he was sure it was perfect before finally continuing on with the rest of the letter. After he completed it, he spent a few more minutes checking it once, then once more to ensure it was in fact as accurate as he could make it, before then spending a little more time practicing forging Victor’s signature and finally signing the note in his creator’s name.

Finally came the most dangerous part. With only his own memory of his travels from Ingolstadt to guide him, he would need to find and deliver the letter to someone who would be able to ensure that it reached Henry safely. Of all Victor’s rules, perhaps his greatest was that the creature was to never descend the mountain, and above all, was never to enter civilization or interact with any other human beings. Each of these would need to be broken in order for his plan to succeed. For a moment, he hesitated. Would Victor become so cross with him over this that he would abandon him once again? Where would he go if he did? What would he do? Who could he turn to? Still, it cut him sharp to think that he might be squandering this small chance to bring his creator some joy after all his sorrow if he were to abandon his plan now. His mind was made - no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to ensure this letter was delivered, and hope that Henry would arrive some day soon just as Victor said he would.

He would need to be swift in order to ensure that Victor would never know he had even left, so he quickly yet cautiously put each letter back in its rightful scattered place as though they had never been touched, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. With a deep, shaky breath, he could feel a new sensation pulsing through him - a rush of adrenaline that raised his heart rate and widened his yellow eyes. Letter clutched tightly in hand, exited the cabin and broke into a sprint. Down the mountain he ran with superhuman speed, leaping over logs and boulders as though they were mere hurdles. Though he should have balked at sheer cliff faces, instead he lept from them and skid down their sides, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock scraping at the soles of his feet and the palm of his empty hand. Letting his intuition guide him, he continued his swift journey to Geneva. Though the place held painful, dreadful memories for him, the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him overrode the thoughts, and he raced toward the location of the address. Slowing to a walk, his chest heaved and ached from exertion, but he slowed his breathing as he came upon a fence that outlined one of many pastures that outskirted a large house on a hill beyond. In one pasture, he could just barely see a figure on horseback, cantering through a field with his wavy, tied hair flickering ember orange in the sunlight behind him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” came a sudden voice from beside him. He jumped at the sound, instinctively hiding his face in the hood of his cloak.

“I- ...yes. Yes, I believe you can,” he stammered in reply. The stranger, a servant from the Clerval household, gave him a curious look as he held out the letter. “This is a letter for a man named Henry Clerval. I am of the impression that this is his residence?” The servant smiled as he took the letter.

“Ordinarily I would have sent you in the direction of Ingolstadt in Germany, but as luck would have it, master Henry returned home just yesterday.” He inspected the folded letter curiously. “May I ask your name?” The creature froze, gripping his cloak tighter around himself.

“I am but a simple deliverer of this message, kind sir. My name need not be of any concern. As for the letter, I am under the impression that he will understand who it is from once he has received it.” The servant nodded.

“I understand. Thank you - I will see that it’s delivered to him promptly.” With that, the man turned and started off toward where the man on horseback was riding, glancing back at the creature in confusion for a moment before continuing with a brisk pace to the one he would be delivering the letter to. The creature waited a moment longer to watch for the rider’s reaction, smiled, knowing he had made the right decision, and began his sprint back toward home.

“Master Henry? Sir?” the servant called in the pasture, letter held carefully in his hand. Henry’s hazel eyes lifted as he turned his head and gently pulled back on the reins of his mount. The mare he rode slowed to a trot, then to a walk as Henry carefully turned her in the direction of the servant.

“Yes, Marc? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, sir,” Marc replied. As Henry slowed his steed to a stop at his side, he looked down curiously at the other man, who held the letter out to him. “This arrived for you just now from an unknown deliverer. He said you would know who it was from when you read it.” Now thoroughly intrigued, Henry took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he beheld the handwriting, and slowly his other hand lifted to his mouth as his jaw dropped while he read. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Tears welled in Henry’s eyes, dripping down onto his freckled cheeks as he looked up from the letter, his expression of shock turning to a tearfully happy smile.

“No, Marc, everything is much better than I had anticipated.” Marc gave him a confused glance. “Will you help me ready a supply pack and ride with me? I will need to be leaving at once.”

“Of course, sir,” Marc replied with a curt nod. “May I ask where it is we are headed?”

“The base of Mount Montanvert.” Henry turned his mount, his eyes resting on the distant mountains. “Be prepared to bring the horses back here for me once we arrive there. I might not be returning for quite some time.”

[underachievers-please-try-harder]

Interview // Clairo

For The Guardian. Read online. 

Exuding all the effusive pride of a new parent, Claire Cottrill is showing me photos of Joanie, her rescue dog and the muse for her forthcoming album, Sling. “She’s actually really bossy,” the Massachusetts-raised artist better known as Clairo chuckles over Zoom, holding her phone close to the laptop screen so I can see the Instagram post more clearly. “But she’s so funny. We have such a special bond.”

According to a DNA test, the sandy-furred pup is mostly chow chow and great pyrenees, with a little bit of boxer and lab in the mix, which accounts for the fact she has tripled in size in the six-and-a-bit months since her adoption. “She was a little wolf baby; a peanut!” the 22-year-old singer-songwriter exclaims, mooning nostalgically over one particular image depicting the then seven-week-old puppy peeking out of some bushes.

Dog ownership might have become quite the ultimate lockdown cliche, but for Cottrill committing to a pet represented a rare opportunity to lay down some roots. Certainly, pre-pandemic she hadn’t had much chance to pursue a life of quiet domesticity; not since the autumn of 2018 at least, when the lo-fi bedroom pop of Pretty Girl went viral, just weeks after she started college in Syracuse.

Its winningly DIY video racked up more than 1.5m YouTube views pretty much overnight (it now stands at almost 75m), and Cottrill was heralded as a vital new voice, and part of a wave of creatively autonomous, emotionally articulate Gen Z artists, alongside the likes of Billie Eilish and Rex Orange County.

Cottrill’s rapid rise – not to mention her signing with the Fader label and Chance the Rapper’s management team – was not without controversy. A small but vocal subset on Reddit circulated the rumour that Cottrill was an “industry plant”, a conclusion they arrived at following their discovery that her father Geoff was previously chief marketing officer at Converse and co-founder of its affiliated recording studio Rubber Tracks. She has recently addressed the allegations directly, telling Rolling Stone, “I definitely am not blind to the fact that things have been easier for me.”

Largely though, Cottrill has sought to prove her detractors wrong through the quality of her compositions. First came Diary 001, an esoteric, six-track set mining skeletal hip-hop and the wipe-clean grooves of PC Music-inspired pop. That was followed in August 2019 by Immunity, the full-length debut she co-produced with ex-Vampire Weekend man Rostam Batmanglij. More revelatory than Diary 001, it detailed a suicide attempt (Alewife) and her struggles with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis (I Wouldn’t Ask You) with striking candour. Sonically, it paired tender, electronics-tinged introspection with swooning guitar-pop. Sofia, which now boasts 280m streams on Spotify, catapulted Cottrill into another league of fame entirely, leading to collaborations with Charli XCX, Mura Masa and Arlo Parks, plus arena tours in support of Khalid and Tame Impala.

Cottrill was busy with the latter when Covid hit the US. On hearing the news, she headed straight to Atlanta, Georgia, to see out lockdown with family, a period of isolation originally scheduled to last a fortnight but which went on for eight months.

Just how intense was it spending the best part of a year holed up with her parents? “It was awesome,” she insists, now back at the Brooklyn apartment she shares with fellow musicians and former college pals Claud and Josh Mehling. “My older sister came home as well. And I found it interesting that no matter how much you’ve progressed as an adult in your own life, the family roles revert back to exactly how it was as a kid.”

First and foremost, enforced confinement provided the opportunity for Cottrill to deepen her relationship with her mother.

“The conversations I had with my mom about motherhood, and the things she sacrificed for us, are really important to me,” she says. “Also, it’s like you don’t actually know who your mother is before she’s Mom, before she’s Wife, because there isn’t a huge documentation of who she was as an individual. And I realised that I might be in the period of my life now where I’m in my individual phase: before I am Mom, before I am Wife, or whatever I end up being. It was a bit scary to recognise that I could eventually have a family, and then this whole identity that I’ve had on my own for a long time can, in some ways, disappear.”

These existential ideas form the basis of Cottrill’s much-anticipated second album. Recorded in the autumn of 2020 at Allaire Studios – situated on a mountain top in upstate New York – Sling finds Jack Antonoff co-producing. Perhaps more significantly, the record also features backing vocals from Lorde – on Reaper as well as the lead single Blouse – an alliance that led to Cottrill returning the favour on the New Zealander’s latest, Solar Power.

“I met Lorde [when I was] on FaceTime with Jack,” she says of the link-up. “He was like: ‘Hey, I’m with a friend, can we say hi?’, and it was Lorde. And I freaked out, of course, but she’s the nicest person ever.

“We talked a lot about how cool it was in the Laurel Canyon era, where people would secretly do background vocals on each other’s music – like Joni Mitchell with Carole King – rather than as a way to benefit the business side of things. Back then it was just like: ‘I love your voice: will you lend your talent to my song?’ So that’s what I asked her, and I was just lucky enough that she wanted me on hers as well.”

The legacy of Laurel Canyon looms over Sling, which swaps the sparse electronic flourishes of Immunity for lush, acoustic folk, often embellished with swooning vocal harmonies, delicate strings and the warm swell of brass. Reference points for the record included Hejira-era Mitchell, the Carpenters and Harry Nilsson, alongside less obvious touchpoints, such as cult jazz musician Blossom Dearie. Most influential, perhaps, was Innocence & Despair by the Langley Schools Music Project, which features a choir of 1970s school kids covering hits of the day, and has since been hailed as a significant piece of outsider art.

“To me, that record merged my two worlds for Sling,” Cottrill explains. “I wanted that warm 70s feeling, but also I was thinking so much about kids, and especially the clumsy, sweet kid that Joanie embodies.”

There is a darker side to the record too, as Cottrill grapples with the reality of life navigating an industry that she memorably describes – on Bambi – as “a universe designed against my own beliefs”. On Blouse she describes her experiences being sexualised by record execs, while on Management she parodies the industry’s fascination with youth in lines like “She’s only 22”.

“[The attitude is] ‘There’s a lot more that we can squeeze out of her before she’s done.’ Because I think that what this industry does a lot is drain young women of everything until they’re not youthful any more.”

For Cottrill, as much as Sling is an album, it is a document of her endeavours to reassess what it is she wants from life. And adopting Joanie was only the first step: in two weeks’ time she plans to move into the house she recently purchased, in a tiny Massachusetts town in close proximity to both the Berkshire and Catskill mountains.

“It’s so awful that it took something like lockdown happening for me to reevaluate how I wanted to move forward. But it’s now about putting my mental health first, because I deserve to have nice things that I do care about. [Things] outside of music, like a house and a dog.”

As we say goodbye, I get another glimpse of Joanie, who has been snoozing throughout the interview. Sprawled on the floor at the end of Cottrill’s bed, blissfully unaware of her significance in our conversations, it’s a pretty fitting encapsulation of the pace of life that Cottrill has finally embraced.

[kailuluwa]

semilucent: a review.

...the sun sets in paradise too.

I’ve been following the 88rising roster when it was just only Rich Brian carrying it on his back. As the lineup grew with Niki, Joji, and Keith Ape, I always wondered, “Where are the Filipinos?” Especially with the prevalent stereotype that all Filipinos are good at singing (thanks to American Idol and our fondness for karaoke or whatever), I found it weird that 88rising hadn’t taken one talent under their wing. But again, I realized that they didn’t need a token Pinoy artist for the sake of diversity.

So you can imagine my surprise when they dropped the news about Paradise Rising, semilucent, and its lineup. They launched the label with a bang by collaborating with known names in the industry, singers with pre-existing followings (me included)! It was guaranteed to be hyped up by a huge audience that it’d be far from flopping.

Paradise Rising did a good job in showcasing what Filipino-grown and made music is:  the type that can bleed seamlessly into R&B and pop scenes. It’s evidence that our acts can definitely ride alongside the western acts taking over mainstream music, fully capable of making songs that can have everyone vibe and dance and fall in love all at the same time. The EP cements the name of the label, because Filipino talent is taking over.

Jason Dhakal opens semilucent with Endlessly+Tenderly, a single that is very much the embodiment of his own brand of love songs: lowkey but still so passionate. You hear it in the slow beats, whole basslines, and his ardent crooning. The combination has you longing to slow dance to it with the love of your life. It’s a sensual surrender--an intimate confession of him giving his everything, tenderly, with Jason’s voice lulling you into a sense of security.

It’s followed by Leila Alcasid and Moophs’ Clouds, with her cool voice feeling like a breeze on a summer day. It completely contrasts against the lyrics she sings “needing the sun on my back,” her voice lulling us into a headspace. She speaks about dealing with her own things while using images of swimming, drowning, and the lack of the sun. The wait for the right time is much like the expectation of a clear day.

Massiah offers something beyond the delicate, hazy mood set by the first two tracks with On God, but he doesn’t stray from it completely. The song starts airy and light before breaking into trap beats and straightforward lyrics about how it’s just him and his girl against the world. On God’s a welcome divergence from the flowery confessions and vivid metaphors, much like taking a dip in a cold pool in the hot weather.

KAORI is the fourth track off the EP, with Fern. bringing us down to somewhere bittersweet, akin to the ending of a nice day out. We're snapped back into reality, brought crashing down where the honeymoon phase is over. The acoustic strumming leading to R&B sounds make the lyrics more painful, every request sounding more like an imploration for his girl to stay: ‘Oh, why’d you have to go so soon, You said you’d follow to the moon.’

Kiana V ends the EP with Safe Place, where her comfort is brought by person rather than being somewhere secure. Now that she’s dealing with the aftermath of separation, she’s the one doing the haggling just to win him back, asking all the ‘what-ifs’. Regret mingles with each request, each question. Soft piano notes make each plea for a return to their rose-colored haze a lot heavier.

An arching narrative about a love story in paradise is seen in semilucent. It covers everything from infatuation, doubt, passion, fallout, and bargaining--the whole life cycle of a relationship and falling in love. The EP gives us a glimpse that love isn’t always sweet and all encompassing. Sometimes it’s emptying and painful, forming a hole in your heart when the honeymoon magic wears off and reality sinks in. It reminds us that the sun sets in paradise too.

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 1: Chapter 17

The North American tour & YouTube Collabs

Word count: 3k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora was nervous when she entered the recording studio in North Hollywood. Mark had sent her the address the previous week and told her that the four members of Our Last Night would be expecting her at 9am, so there she was walking through the front door, with Harry’s supportive hand on her lower back.

“Aurora?”

“Yes, Hi,” she replied, reaching her hand out to shake the one offered to her by the tall brunette standing in front of her. “It’s great to finally meet you, Matt. Thanks for having me.”

“Great to meet you too. We were all stoked when your manager reached out. Thanks again for flying out here.”

“Not at all,” Rori said. “This is my partner, Harry by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Everyone else is back this way.”

They followed Matt further into the building, finding the other members of his band sitting around the studio space. Introductions were made and the rest of the day was spent working on the arrangements for the 2 songs they had already decided on covering. They had been emailing back and forth for much of the last week and the band had already done much of the work, so it was simply a matter of putting the final touches to the instrumentals and by the end of the first day they were ready to start recording. The band invited Aurora and Harry back to Trevor’s house for dinner and they gladly accepted, already enjoying the company of the 4 men. Aurora spent most of the evening with Trevor’s 1 year old perched on her lap until the baby was put to bed. They didn’t stay too late and made plans to meet back in the studio earlier the next morning. Over the next few days they recorded the instrumental tracks for both covers, leaving only the vocal tracks left to lay down for their covers of the Chainsmokers All We Know, and Charlie Puth’s We Don’t Talk Anymore.

At the end of her first week in LA, Aurora, Trevor and Matthew all took their turn in the recording booth to lay down the vocals for each track and then they decided to take the weekend off before returning Monday morning to film the music videos.

Harry felt that Malibu was the perfect place to spend the weekend, renting a beach house for the pair and Aurora spent the days lounging beside the pool and soaking up as much sun as she could. Given their usually hectic schedules, the young couple revelled in the free time. The opportunity to waste away hours by the pool, without the constant demands to be somewhere or do something was intoxicating. Harry was happy to set himself up on a banana lounge with a book and a glass of red wine, enjoying the relaxing sounds of the nearby waves and the view of his beautiful girlfriend laying nearby in a bikini. Likewise, Aurora was also enjoying the calming sound of the waves, and would cheekily request that Harry refill her drink, if only to watch him walking around in a pair of boardshorts slung low on his hips and nothing else. Before long, their mini vacation was at an end and Aurora headed back into the studio, spending three days filming the 2 covers and then helping with the beginnings of the editing process. After what felt like no time at all, the pair said goodbye to their new friends with promises to catch up again in the future before heading to LAX to fly up to Toronto for Harry to start the next leg of the bands tour. By the time they returned to the States on Monday, the two covers were posted on both Aurora’s channel and Our Last Nights, much to their fan’s excitement and praise.

xXx

Despite being so close to her home across the river, Aurora didn’t visit while she was in New Jersey with the band and instead Tony came to see her. He was beyond excited when he pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her feet off the ground as he swung her around.

“Missed you,” he murmured in her ear as he set her back on her feet.

“Missed you too,” Rori replied, “and Pops.”

“He wanted to come,” Tony said, “But things are a bit crazy back home.”

“How is Sergeant Barnes doing?” Aurora asked, leading her dad down the hallways towards the green room.

“Yeah, he’s getting there,” Tony answered. “He was still a bit confused when we finally tracked him down but he’s already getting better. I mean don’t get me wrong, he’s got a long way to go but he’s been doing really well in therapy so it’s just a matter of time really.”

“I was talking to Pops on the phone the other night and he seems really excited to be getting his friend back.”

“He is, I just don’t want him to get his hopes up too much. Barnes has been through so much that I’m not sure he’ll ever be his old self again.”

“I can’t imagine what he’s gone through,” Aurora agreed. “But at least he’s out of it now.”

“You’re right,” her father agreed. “I’ve been working on fixing his prosthetic lately. The one Hydra made for him was a mess. They clearly didn’t care whether it was causing him any pain, so hopefully I can ease that for him with some modifications.”

“Well there’s no one better to work on it than you, dad,” Aurora smirked. “You got Peter helping you on it?”

“I couldn’t stop him if I tried,” Tony laughed. “The kid is having the time of his life.”

The pair spent the rest of the afternoon catching each other up on the last month and simply revelling in being together after weeks apart.

Following the New Jersey shows, Aurora and the band travelled down to Massachusetts, and then on to Washington DC, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Tennessee, Texas, Missouri and finally Illinois. Along the way Aurora continued heading out exploring whatever city they found themselves in while the boys worked, and she would often find herself sitting in on writing sessions for the next album. Harry would often run lyrics by her, asking for her input and she found that Liam and Louis’ writing style was similar to her own which led to her often joining the two as they threw around ideas. By the time they reached Chicago at the end of August, most of the album had been written, if not recorded in full ready for its November release.

Following the last show in Chicago, the band had a week and a half break before continuing the tour in California, so Harry joined Aurora on her flight back to New York on the Sunday afternoon of the last day of August.

xXx

Aurora wasn’t at all surprised by the surprise party that she walked into when she stepped out of the lift and into the penthouse with Harry by her side. The scene that greeted her was so perfectly Tony, that she felt herself grinning widely. There was a banner strung across the living room that read; ‘WELCOME HOME RORI’ with a small crowd of her friends and family assembled underneath it. The crowd included the Avengers, Pepper and Happy, Peter and May, her parents and two new faces; one of which she recognised from photos to be Bucky Barnes, while the other she assumed to be the newest recruit to the team, Sam Wilson. Rori quickly found herself sandwiched between both of her fathers as they threw their arms around her, crushing her in a warm group hug. She laughed as they finally let her go. “I missed you too,” she chuckled, allowing them to lead her further into the room to be passed from one hug to the next as everyone took their turn to welcome her home.

A few hours later, full to bursting from the Chinese takeout Tony had ordered from her favourite place, Aurora was curled up against Harry’s side on the large sofa. Steve brought Bucky over to sit on the sofa opposite the young couple, introducing his daughter to his oldest friend. She smiled softly at him, unsure what to say. She could see the excitement on her Pop’s face to be introducing his best friend from the 1940s but the person she saw before her was also a Hydra assassin who had killed more people than she could comprehend.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bucky murmured. “Stevie hasn’t really shut up about you.”

“He’s told me a lot about you too,” Rori replied, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips as she glanced over at her step-father. “That was before he knew you were still alive though.”

“It’s crazy that either of us here now,” Bucky admitted. They continued to talk idly until Steve walked over to the kitchen to refill his and Rori’s drinks. The moment he was out of earshot, Bucky looked between Rori and Harry with a nervous glance. “I understand that you’re both concerned,” he said. “I am too, but I promise you that I’m not a threat.”

“We don’t think you’re a threat,” Harry replied.

“Don’t we?” Rori asked him. “I’m not going to say anything in front of Pops because he deserves this, but I don’t trust you Bucky. Maybe I will someday but not yet.”

“Steve said you were smart,” Bucky replied, seemingly unaffected by Auroras blunt words. “Glad to see he was right. I don’t trust myself completely either but we’re working on it. I’m doing therapy to help with the brainwashing and your dad is fixing my arm. I’ll earn your trust.”

“Yes, you will,” Rori agreed with a genuine smile, dropping the conversation as Steve returned with Sam in tow. “Welcome to the madhouse, Sam.”

“Thanks Aurora,” the newest Avenger replied. “Not sure what I’ve gotten myself into with this one,” he gestured towards Steve, who rolled his eyes. “Should be good fun though.”

“It’s certainly never boring,” Harry joked.

Shortly before midnight, when almost everyone had left for the night, only Nat, Clint and Bruce remained in the living room of the penthouse with the Stark-Rogers family and Harry. After refilling his drink in the kitchen, Tony walked past where Rori was sitting, lifting her wine glass to her lips to take a sip. “What is that on your wrist?” he asked, pulling his daughters attention away from a conversation she was having with Bruce. She paused for a brief moment before following Tony’s eyes to the inside of her left wrist.

“It’s a tattoo,” she replied, holding her arm out so that he could see the fresh ink clearer. “Pretty cool, right? I got it about 2 weeks ago.” The image on the inside of her wrist was of half of Steve’s shield and the right half of the Iron Man helmet, joined together in the middle. “Harry, Louis and I went to this great little tattoo parlour in Philly.”

“It’s nice,” Tony said. “Did you draw it up yourself?” Aurora nodded that she had, tracing her index finger over the ink, smiling at the memory of sitting in the tattoo studio with the two boys, Louis laughing at her as she winced when some of the heavy shading was done.

“I’m already planning the next one,” she told her father. “It really is addictive.”

Tony shot a joking glare towards Harry where he sat with Nat and Clint nearby. “You’ve got a lot to answer for,” he told the younger man.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Harry laughed, raising his hands in mock defence. “She cooked up the idea with Lou and they’d decided they were going long before I invited myself. I was just tagging along and figured I’d get something done while we were there.”

“A likely story,” Tony laughed. “So, what’s the next one?” he asked, turning his attention away from Harry and back to his daughter.

“I wanna get a yellow cab on my ribs,” Aurora explained. “Big Yellow Taxi was mum’s favourite song, so I want to be a walking cliché and put it near my heart.”

“You’re not going to start building a sleeve like Harry’s next, are you?” Steve asked, joining the conversation and sitting down next to Aurora on the sofa.

“No,” Rori promised. “But I think I’ll definitely get a couple more. I really love the idea of having my art permanently a part of me.”

xXx

Harrys stayed for the rest of the week, enjoying spending time with Rori without the pressure and constant scheduling of being on tour. He also enjoyed spending time with her family. He would sit with Rori while she sketched on the sofa in Tony’s workshop, watching her father and Peter working away on whatever project had their attention at any given moment. He’d chat with Rori while she drew, her feet perched in his lap and one of his hands resting softly on her thigh. Sometimes she’d be sketching Tony and Peter, sometimes it was Harry and sometimes it was a landscape she could see only in her mind. They reminisced about the tour, recounting the funnier stories for Peter who lapped it all up eagerly. Every morning the couple would head downstairs to the gym, where Rori would run on the treadmill and Harry would use the weights. Steve would join them most mornings and there were always other members of the team floating in and out of the space. On the Wednesday, Rori started back at Columbia and Harry caught the subway with her, wandering the campus and grabbing a coffee at one of the small cafes while she attended her two classes for the day. When she was finished, the pair walked back to the tower through Central Park, taking their time in the autumn sunshine. Eventually Harry had to leave for California, and while Aurora tried to pretend she wasn’t upset to see him go, she lasted only until he was standing in front of the lift with his bag slung over his shoulder. Happy was waiting with the car downstairs and they had agreed to say their goodbyes in private, both knowing that if Aurora went to the airport with Harry, they would be on every gossip blog by morning.

“I’ll see you at Christmas,” Harry promised. Aurora nodded, swallowing thickly against the emotion building in her throat. “Come here,” he said, pulling her against him as the tears welled up and flowed down her cheeks.

“I got so used to see you every day,” she admitted, her face pressed into his neck. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Harry said, “but you’ve got school and I’ve got the tour to finish. It’ll be December before we know it.”

“I love you,” she told him, pulling her face back from his neck to look into his eyes.

“I love you too,” he promised, leaning forward to lock their lips together.

“Sorry to interrupt,” JARVIS said, “But Mr Styles will need to leave now if he does not wish to miss his flight.”

“I’ll call you when I land,” Harry said, pecking her lips one last time before stepping into the waiting elevator car. As the doors slid closed, she stared at them for a few long minutes before turning towards the living room and throwing herself onto the sofa, her face buried into the cushions. Tony found her there half an hour later and sat down next to her hip, rubbing a handing down her back.

“Harry get away alright?” he asked to which Rori nodded, her face still pressed into the fabric below her. “You wanna watch a shitty movie and eat crap food that will make Steve disappointed in both of us?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, finally sitting up and allowing her father to crush her in a tight embrace.

xXx

Two weeks after Harry returned to the tour, Aurora was sitting at the large dining table with every member of the Avengers team present. They were halfway through the meal before Clint finally snapped, asking the question on everyone’s mind. “Rori are you gonna tell us why you made such a big deal about everyone having dinner tonight?”

Aurora looked up from her plate, glancing around the table to see everyone’s eyes on her, expectant. “Uhhhh,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to talk to you all at the same time, so I didn’t have to repeat myself.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Clint asked, causing both Tony and Steve’s heads to snap towards their daughter.

“No!” Rori gasped, both men visibly relaxing in response to her answer. “Christ, Clint. I just wanted to talk to you about the fact that we’re having visitors for the next few days and I would appreciate if you could all stay on your own floors and stay out of here, so you don’t embarrass me.”

“What kind of visitors?” Bruce asked.

“I’m collaborating with a band called Boyce Avenue, so the three members are going to be here until Monday to record in the studio,” Aurora explained, growing more nervous with every second as Nat and Clint shared a look that could only spell trouble for her.

The three Manzano brothers arrived the following morning and within the hour, the four of them were already set up in Aurora’s studio downstairs. As with her collaboration with Our Last Night, much of the work had been done via email over the previous weeks, so they got straight in to running through the arrangements for their covers of Zedd’s The Middle and Khalid’s Love Lies. The process was effortless and over the next 4 days they recorded the instrumental and vocal tracks as well as filming the two videos for their separate channels. Aurora and Alejandro’s voices blended together beautifully, and they all had so much fun working together. Thankfully the Avengers took pity on her and stayed out of the way for the duration of the Manzano’s visit and before long the men returned to Florida while Aurora through herself into her college classes, hoping that the months of separation from Harry really would fly by as he’d promised.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[mx-writer]

Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader

WARNING(S): mature content: cussing self-degrading, and selfharm (there is nothing too graphic or gory)

You Should Know: The reader - you - is written as gender-neutral, so no matter your gender, you can be Steve's lover! Also, you are an insecure chubby person. (I know, a huge cliché, but I promise to make a confident chubby reader insert soon, too! And other body types and such!) Steve refers to you as pretty and gorgeous, which are usually attached strictly to femininity, but guys can be pretty, too, even if they are super masculine in appearance. If you don't like the way I worded things, switch the words to handsome or something in your mind. Sorry if you don't like how I made Steve describe you!

Prompt(s): A song inspired me! I don't remember what it was exactly, hhhhhh. It's on my Wattpad, though!

If these themes and ideas make you uncomfortable in anyway, you really do not have to read.

Thank you!

You weren't always the most attractive person, in your eyes - or even a little attractive. Your baby fat never seemed to have disappeared, and you just keep putting on the pounds. You gain weight so easily, and even when you try to diet properly and exercise daily, your weight is stuck in the same range.

With a frustrated sigh, you step off the little scale. You only pray that it's broken - I gained another two pounds! I mean, of course I did! I'm such a pig!

You squeeze at your stomach, face, and thighs in the mirror. Who'd ever want to look at this gross sack of flesh? You turn so your side is facing the mirror, your stomach sticking out. You suck in as hard as you can, but can only hold your breath for a few seconds before you let out a heavy exhale, stomach dropping back to its origin position.

Your eyes sting with the familiar feeling of tears about to spill over. You slam your fist into your hip to distract yourself from your bad thoughts. A hiss escapes from between your teeth as you cringe at the pain. You had forgotten there was already a bruise there.

Flailing your arms around for a moment, you force a smile onto your lips. You needed to get ready for work. There's no point in sitting here and moping around. You are a busy person, you don't have much time for a pity party.

After hurriedly throwing on your nice work clothes, making sure they cover you up almost completely, and focusing your thoughts on only professional things, you dash out of the apartment complex and hail a cab.

Popping into the main elevator, you head up to your office - well, your little corner of Mr. Stark's office. Even though you've worked there for a couple years now, you still can't believe you landed the job. All you are is a secretary, and all you do is take calls that Mr. Stark ignores elsewhere in the building and file away papers and documents (most everything is digital, but he likes to keep some things down on paper), but it's still an exciting job. After all, you are working for the Tonk Stark - fucking Ironman.

You take a seat at your desk, removing your blazer.

Now, this is the worst part of the job: the waiting. Usually, calls come in every few minutes, or Mr. Stark shoves a giant stack of papers into your hands to sort through, but then there are the slow days - days that you are grateful for, but you get so bored. These days are always random, popping up whenever you least expect it, and nowhere to be seen when you most desire them.

With a sigh, you let yourself relax into your chair. May you could get an extra few minutes of shut-eye. As soon as your eyes drift shut, a door loudly opens, causing you to immediately sit up straight, trying to look presentable.

In walked Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. They were having a heated discussion about something you simply couldn't understand, like they were speaking another language. You didn't allow yourself to stare at them, quickly shifting your vision to the blank screen of your computer.

"__________, I need yesterday's papers! Get the last file from last night, the blue one." Mr. Stark piped up at you aggravatedly.

Quickly standing and sifting through the filing cabinet, you found the thick file and rushed it over to the two men. He ripped it from your hands, frantically flipping through the papers you oh-so-carefully organized last night. Finally, he yanked out a packet of papers and tossed it to Dr. Banner, who barely caught it.

"You can check the math all you want, Bruce, but you know I'm right."

Dr. Banner sighed, "I just want to make sure you didn't slip up, like when - "

"Nah-ah-ah! I almost never slip up! Even geniuses make little mistakes now and again."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, "At least you're finally admitting you were wrong. Took you long enough."

Mr. Stark returned the gesture, "I may he an asshole, but you love me all the same."

"You keep telling yourself that; whatever helps you sleep at night." Dr. Banner turned to face you, causing you to tense up, "Do you get the chance to check that document out?"

"Yes, sir! I'll send it back to you now." You head to your computer, quickly turning it on and booting up the file, "Were you two up all night, again? Want some coffee, Docter, Mr. Stark?" You sent the document back to Dr. Banner, flicking your eyes back to the two.

Dr. Banner groaned, "That sounds amazing right now." Mr. Stark, nodded, leaning back into his desk chair.

You swiftly head for the elevator, going down to the next level. You never really understood why he didn't get a coffee machine for his office. He has all the money in the world, what's one little coffee maker going to do? Maybe it's an excuse to get you out of the office, so he can speak with whoever alone.

The ding of the elevator breaks through your thoughts, and you rush over to make the coffee. You look around to make sure you were alone before hopping up onto the countertop. You could feel the cool surface through your pants, giving you goosebumps.

You look down at your lap, and immediately regret it. The fabric of your pants seemed to strain over your thick thighs. You scowled in disgust at yourself, squeezing at them. There was no space between them, all the way down until your knees. Sitting on a flat, hard surface only made them look bigger. You remember this morning, and aim your fist at the bruise on your hip. You curse under your breath at the sting, clenching your jaw. You can deal with the pain. It's your fault you're like this. Just suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, you slid off the counter. You needed to get your mind back on track. You poured three cups of coffee, placing them on a tray, and carefully hurried back to the office.

As the day came to a close, you groggily headed home. Your eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen all day, and you felt a slight burn in your calves from running up and down the tower to take Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner coffee and papers and blueprints and blah blah blah...

You sluggishly wash up and climb into bed.

Let's change this up a bit, shall we?

(third person point of view)

Meanwhile, at the Avengers Tower:

"You are an ass." Steve groans into his cup.

"Language, Cap." Tony, smirked to himself. Some of the others in the room laugh.

"You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Nope." Tony popped the 'p', taking a swig from his own glass, "You should just admit it, already. You can't keep your eyes off of them."

Steve rolled his eyes, stubbornly biting back his nerves, trying to reel in his annoyance, "They're your secretary, Tony. This isn't a child's game. It'd be highly inappropriate for me to desire them in any way."

"Tony's got a point," Bruce chips in, "Your glances may be subtle, but they are far too frequent for you to deny."

Steve only glares at him.

Clint, from the corner, whispers in a sing-song voice, "Chubby chaser!"

Steve's breath hitches, hairs on the end of his neck standing up. He chose to keep his mouth shut.

Tony pipes back up, "They're my employee - which makes me sort of like their dad. It wouldn't be all that bad if you made a move, Cap. As long as you don't distract each other during work hours, and keep everything PG around us."

Images of not-so-PG things flash through Steve's mind. He's suddenly flustered, so he snaps back to defend himself in some way, "Shut it, Tony." That'll have to do.

"Make me." Tony retorted childishly. Steve sent him a glare.

Thor, after being quiet through this whole interaction, finally decides to pitch in his own two cents, "I have experienced earthly love, myself, Steve. Gives you something more to fight for. It could be good for you."

"You, too? Really?" Steve was actually surprised that he had said anything like that, but his annoyance surpassed the shock.

Tony clapped Thor on the back, "Glad you're on my side," he smirked over at Steve, "You know, the right one."

Steve stood from his seat, "I'm going to bed."

This time, very unexpectedly, Natasha is the one to speak up, "I think you should go for it. How could anyone turn the Captain down?"

Steve paused, then went on his way to his room.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

Another day, another nickel. You sigh, standing in front of the mirror. Why do I keep doing this to myself? You gently run your fingers over the bruises. They seem to be everywhere - your hips, thighs, ribs, chest, arms... What's wrong with me?

This morning, you can't seem to hold back the tears. They silently fall from your eyes, then down your chest. It's not like anyone is going to see me bare, anyway. Who would ever wish for such a disgusting thing? What does another few bruises matter?

You take a deep breath, and slam your fist into your thigh as hard as you can. You let out a choked sob. Okay, maybe that was a little too hard for a work day - shit, I have work!

You jump into the shower, making it as hot as you can bear to numb your brain and to disguise the fact that you were crying.

Now in your usual seat at your desk, you smile as Mr. Stark enters the room, "Good morning, Sir."

He grumbles back, but the words are unintelligible.

"Rough night?"

This time, all you receive is a grunt. You stand, heading for the elevator, "It looks like it's a straight black morning, huh? I'll return with your joe in a moment." He always seems to forget that coffee exists most of the time. If I - no, not me, I'm not that important, just anyone - wasn't here to keep an eye on him, he'd have died from exhaustion by now.

Doing your usual routine, you start the coffee maker, then hop up onto the countertop to sit. Yes, there are chairs in the room, but, for some odd reason, you enjoy sitting on tabletops and such. It brings you back to your school days, sitting on your desk, whispering to your friends before class starts. You try to block out the bullying, but some choppy memories slip through.

Deciding it would be best, you force yourself out of good ol' memory lane, and look out the large windows. From this height, you could see the city from a better perspective. Instead of the towering building standing intimidatingly above you, you look down on them, in awe of the sun reflecting of the the shiny buildings, making the city look far more at peace than in reality. You allowed yourself this little moment, a small and genuine smile crossing your features. These are rare, precious moments; take advantage.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were down here."

You snap your attention to Mr. Rogers standing in the archway to the open kitchen area. You blush, quickly jumping off of the counter to stand straight before him, "Mr. Rogers, good morning!"

He offers you a bright smile, "It is a good morning, isn't it?" He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"It really is." You then laugh, "But not for Mr. Stark, that's for sure."

Mr. Roger's laughs with you, "Are any of his mornings ever considered good?"

You laugh again, "I wouldn't know. Maybe if he woke up to someone next to him, his mornings would be a hell of a lot better." Your tone insinuates something not-so-innocent.

Your smile falters, realizing you had let an inappropriate joke slip, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I shouldn't say things like that - "

"It's quite alright, (Ms./Mr./Mx.) __________. I hear far worse from Tony on a regular basis. And it's actually quite nice to see some more of your personality slip through." He turned his back to you, taking in a deep gulp of water.

You chuckle nervously, "If you're sure, Mr. Rogers. And you can just call me by my first name, like Mr. Stark does."

He tosses a quick smile over his shoulder at you, "And you can call me Steve."

You tense, biting at you bottom lip, "If that is what you wish, Steve." A warm feeling sneaks up on you as you say his name. Why did just saying his name make such a feeling bloom in your chest?

Mr. Ro - Steve went still, which appeared a tad strange, but you decided to not mention it.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, too, Steve?"

He shook his head, still facing away from you, "It's not a coffee kind of morning for me. Thank you, though."

You smiled at his back, then turned to the fresh pot of coffee, "Suit yourself." You filled up three glasses, as per usual, sure that Dr. Banner would probably want a cup, as well.

Finally, he turned back to you, and his voice sounded a bit off, "If you weren't so busy, I would ask you to join me for my morning run. You always have your hands so full."

You felt your face heat up. You looked down at yourself, "I'm, uh," you nervously glanced back up to him, "I'm not really a runner." Is that his subtle and nice way of calling me fat? Of course he'd think that. Who the fuck doesn't?

"A walk, then." He offers a soft grin.

You bite your lip, placing the mugs on the tray, "I suppose that would be nice. It's been pretty hot out, though; I don't really like the heat. And, just as you'd said, I am a rather busy person."

He nods, smile slipping a bit, "Perhaps, something more - "

A loud yawn cuts through the air, a man walking into the lounging area. It's a shirtless Mr. Odinson. You stiffen up, "Good morning, Sir. Did you sleep well?"

He gives you a tired smile, "Yes. I wish I could sleep longer, though."

"I'd have to agree with you there." You look down at the tray, then back to Steve, "It was nice chatting with you, but I'm afraid that I should hurry back to the office. Mr. Stark doesn't exactly like cold coffee, and he's probably fallen asleep at his desk again. I'll see you later!"

You turned away, heading back to Mr. Stark. You could've sworn you heard a light thud and a sharp, hushed voice behind you, but you chose to ignore it and continue on your way.

You groggily step into the office. It was technically your day off, and you'd planned to sleep in, but Mr. Stark called you in for 'an urgent emergency'. Lucky for you, he said you could dress casual and comfortable.

You plop down oh, so gracefully in your desk chair. You let out a heavy sigh, laying your head down on your folded arms on the desktop.

Someone bursts into the room, but you don't budge, "Ah, so you're here! Great!" It's Mr. Stark.

You lift your head, flashing a wide grin, "Morning, Mr. Star - "

"Ah!" He cuts you off, "That's my name only during work hours."

You furrowed your brows at him, "What do you - "

He interrupted you again, "There is no work today. On days like these, it's Tony."

You were quite confused, "But, Sir, if there's no - "

"Tony." He firmly stated, "I know that I called you in on your day off, but I have good reason. You're not here to work; you're here to..." he trailed, carefully choosing his next words, "have some fun."

You blinked, "Fun?" It was spoken as more of a statement than a question.

He laughed, "Yes, fun." He looked you over, "We should get you changed."

You leaned back into the chair, now fully facing him, "Why - I-I didn't - "

He shushed you, "Hush. We're going to get you something nice to wear for the party." He pulled out his phone, typing away.

Your eyes bugged out and you started to sputter, "Party? What party? Mr. - Tony, I can't - "

"You're going." He spoke firmly, "It's part of the job now."

You wanted to question further, wanted to argue, but you didn't want to risk your current position or your relationship with your boss. Instead, you just nod and wait, internally panicking.

He heads for the elevator, motioning for you to follow. With a sigh, you hurry after him.

Now fully dressed and ready in your fancy, new outfit, you glance at yourself in the mirror. The clothing seemed to fit you better than most anything you've ever worn, sculpting to your figure in a... not too unattractive way. You give yourself a small smile, smoothing down the fabric on your chest and stomach.

When shopping, you had made sure to get something that reached the floor and had long sleeves. You didn't want to expose any more skin than you had to.

A loud knock cut through the air from the door behind you, making you jump. You turn to the door, quickly reaching over to open it. Behind the door stood a sharply dressed Tony.

He smiled at you, "You look good."

You look down at yourself, mumbling, "Thanks."

He threw an arm around your lower back, pulling you out of the restroom and into the elevator.

After a few beats of silence, you nervously ask, "How big is this party going to be?"

He shrugged, still smiling, "Don't worry, it shouldn't be that big."

You frowned, brows furrowed. That didn't comfort you in the slightest. The elevator went silent again.

The music grew louder as you approached the party floor. You shifted on your feet anxiously. You weren't a big fan of parties in general, nevermind a Tony Stark party.

The elevator dinged. You bit your lip as Tony lead you out. He continued to smile at you, nudging your shoulder, "Go, have fun - and don't you dare leave." His tone was a tad unnerving.

You simply nod, and he walks away, leaving you alone. You could feel the music, the bass beating in your chest alongside your heart. It was a heavy feeling, but you kind of enjoyed it.

Looking to your left, you see a bar. You cringe. Nope. Definitely not drinking tonight. I get plastered far too easily, then I just end up embarrassing myself. You sigh, and turn to your right, seeing a large crowd of people dancing. A lot of them appeared drunk and they were dancing rather... intamately. You blushed just watching them. You wished you could move like that... That anyone would even want to dance with you in such a fashion... Stop it! Not now! You pinch the back of your hand to scold yourself.

Finally, you move from your spot, stepping forward and officially into the party. You walk around a bit, catching bits and pieces of conversations as you go. You turn your head, eyes meeting glass - a floor-to-ceiling window. You focus on your reflection, then to the city beyond the pane. You walk over to the window. You've never seen the city at night from this high up. Another one of those rare, genuine smiles spreads across your face. Maybe this party wasn't so bad, after all.

You notice something in your peripherals, turning your focus on it. It's a balcony. You thought about how beautiful the city looked, and decided to go get an even better view. You rush over to the surprisingly empty balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. Once the door shut, the music grew quite muffled, and you could listen in on the sounds of the city. The genuine smile lingered as you leant on the railing to peer down at the roads. The height frightens you in the best of ways, chills running down your spine.

You could barely hear the quiet footfalls approaching you. You were so zoned out, lost in the beauty of the city beneath you.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You snap out of it, turning your still smiling face to the person behind you. It's Steve. Your eyes sparkle, "Beautiful, yes, but I would say 'gorgeous'."

He smiled back to you, "I would save that word for prettier sights." There was a hint of... something in his voice, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"There are a lot 'prettier sights', huh?" You turn back to the city, "Though, here and now, this has got to be the prettiest."

He now stood beside you, "Now, I wouldn't say that."

You glance over at him, "Why not?"

He remains silent for a few moments before turning back to you and smiling. He holds out his hand, "Care to dance?"

You look to his hand, then back to his eyes, "I can't..." you trailed, "I'm no good at dancing."

He persisted, "All we have to do is sway. How hard can that be?"

You furrowed your brows, glancing to the windows and looking inside. Everyone was dancing wildly, jumping around and grinding against one another. But Steve was suggesting a much different kind of dancing.

"I don't get why people consider that dancing nowadays." he spoke up, grabbing your attention again, "Dancing used to be a whole lot classier."

You chuckled, "Yeah, but at least it seems fun."

He nodded thoughtfully before he continued to persist, "Will you please dance with me?"

You clasp your hands behind your back nervously, "Like I said, I'm not much of a dancer."

"All we'll do is sway." He steps closer, "We'll sway to much quieter music."

You shake you head at him, "What music?"

"You'll hear it if you listen carefully." His grin widens.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. Holding out your hand, you flash him a smile, "Fine, I give. I'll dance with you. But don't complain when I step on your toes." You jokingly warned.

"I'm tough, I can handle it." He pulls you close to him, lifting your hands to his shoulders before placing his on your hips.

You bit back your nervousness, "Oh, so you're taking the lead?"

"I thought you couldn't dance." He started swaying the two of you back and forth at a slow pace.

You chuckled, "Yeah, it'd be a disaster if I lead."

"I doubt that."

You continue to smile, "Your doubts would be incorrect, Steve."

He shifts, pulling you a tad closer. His hands felt a bit heavier on your hips. "All of them?"

You nod, "Yep."

You can see a strange twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, he's leaning down and placing a soft, slow kiss on your cheek.

As he pulls away, you feel your face heat up, not really sure what to say, "What was that for?"

He ignored your current question, instead responding to your previous one, "The city may be a pretty sight, but I reserve the word 'gorgeous' only for you."

Your breath hitches, heartbeat picking up. You were speechless. Your face grew hotter. You started to panic, quickly deciding to hide your face in his shoulder.

He chuckled, nervousness obvious in his tone, but he continued, "My friends have caught my lingering glances. I don't mean to stare, but I just can't help myself. You are very attractive, there's no denying that."

You shake your head involuntarily.

"You don't think so?"

You kept silent, still.

He pulled you against him, continuing the swaying motion, "I know that I'm being forward. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'm afraid that if I keep beating around the bush, I'll miss my chance."

"What are you talking about?" You managed to mutter out.

He hesitated, "I want you to be mine."

You pulled back from him, wide-eyed, "What?"

"I-I mean, if you'll have me - " He let you go, taking a step back, panic settling into his eyes, "I'm sorry, I should leave you be, shouldn't I?"

You panic as well, reaching out to grip his upper arm, worried that he'd walk off, "No!"

The both of you stilled.

You recoiled, "I-I mean... no." You spoke softer, "I'm sorry, I just can't really tell if you're serious or not." You try to laugh it off, wrapping your arms around yourself.

His brows furrowed, "Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well, uh," you averted your eyes, "if you're constantly the butt-end of a joke, you tend to put up some walls, constantly doubting what others say." You realized that you might have said too much when you look back at him. There was apparent anger in his eyes and frustration embedded into his features.

He steps back over to you, "I wouldn't play with your feelings like that." He clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms back around your waist, holding you gently.

You returned the favor, embracing him.

Another long stretch of silence.

"Why wouldn't I have you?" You blurt out, still doubtful.

He chuckled, "Because I'm sure, as amazing as you are, you could find someone better."

You paused, "So even the Captain America can be insecure." You didn't really mean to say that aloud, but it's already out there, in the open.

"Yeah, believe it or not." He chuckled again, "You have no idea how vulnerable I feel right now."

He seemed to sincere, so honest, it was starting to actually get hard to doubt his words. You let a 'huh' slip from between your lips.

He pulls back, cupping your cheek. He leans forward again, kissing your temple. This action was so gentle and caring, it made you melt. "All I'm asking for is one date. Anything after that is up to you."

You smiled at him, a short laugh escaping you, "So is this our first date?"

He returned the smile, "I would prefer to take you on a proper date." The swaying resumed, and you think you're starting to understand what music he was talking about.

You stood straighter, confidence building, "I'd like to consider this the first."

"And why's that?"

You inhale sharply, "So I can kiss you already."

He stared at you for a moment. Neither of you spoke or moved. When a minute grew into forever, you returned to your panicky self.

Suddenly, he captured your lips against his own, holding you closely. It took you a moment, but you were soon kissing back, gripping at the fabric on his back.

The kiss ended far too soon. His smile reached his eyes, "Done and done."

A laugh fell from your lips, and you were kissing again. It was chaste, but it meant everything to you, "I'm yours."

He pressed you against him, swaying with you at a slightly faster pace, "And I'm yours."

You leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. If this wasn't music, you didn't know what was.

Thank you so much for reading! This wasn't super romantic or anything, so I do plan on making a continuation. I don't know why, but I keep writing out these long, slow-burning stories, with endings that don't really feel all that worth it. I promise to spice things up pretty soon. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or requests, hit me up. I'll make some time just for you.

[mydarlingfilm]

TIME DOESN’T HEAL

This is going to be a very long post and I would love to read it over and over again. It was painful and timeless at the same time. This conversation is hold between an Rolling stone and Pk.

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. "That's Marilyn Monroe," she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. "And that's JFK. You can't even find these online." On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. "It's awesome," she had said on the way over. "They have a real electric chair and a real head!"

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that's veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she's wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she's decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him "bae" – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father's child. "Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is," says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. "The only thing that's different would be her age and her gender." Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, "in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She's very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment." 

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. "They always say, 'Time heals,'" she says. "But it really doesn't. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.' So going forward, anything bad that happens can't be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it." Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: "I feel him with me all the time."

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad's handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. "He's brought me nothing but joy," she says. "So why not have constant reminders of joy?" 

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum's attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. "I don't really like this room," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I draw the line with animals. I can't do it. This breaks my heart." She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as "desensitized" to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. "It was just self-hatred," she says, "low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn't do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore." She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide "multiple times," she says, with an incongruous laugh. "It was just once that it became public." The hospital had a "three-strike rule," she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father's death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn't fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, "a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things," she says. "I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn't do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn't really that nice of a person." She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. "The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great," she says. "But I don't think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff." 

There was another trauma that she's never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older "complete stranger" sexually assaulted her, she says. "I don't wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn't tell anybody."

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. "It was great for me," she says. "I'm a completely different person." Before, she says with a small smile, "I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help." Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she's no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she's ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine's house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don't obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. "I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel," says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. "But the more I actually got to know him," says Prince, "he's a really cool guy."

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn't feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she's a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that's almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he's begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they're more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn't sure if she'll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. "I've had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time," says Paris, who understands her dad's plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. "Plenty of people think I'm ugly, and plenty of people don't. But there's a moment when I'm modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer's telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it's selfish."

But mostly, she shares her father's heal-the-world impulses ("I'm really scared for the Great Barrier Reef," she says. "It's, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man"), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. "I was born with this platform," she says. "Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?"

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed "Beat It." The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5's first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room. 

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It's captioned "Of Children, Castles & Kings." Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris' boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad's 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. ("Everything I never got to do as a kid," Michael called it.) During that time, she didn't know that her father's name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. "I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy," she says. "We didn't really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world." (Paris declared last year's Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her "favorite movie ever.")

We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things." 

In his 2011 memoir, Michael's brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one."

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. "When you're at home," says Paris, "your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it's like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We're gonna go hang out with Dad.' We were like, 'We don't need friends. We've got you and Disney Channel!'" She was, she acknowledges, "a really weird kid."

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. "He was a kick-ass cook," she says. "His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie." Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine's Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine's Jehovah's Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. "My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen," she says."He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N' Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC."

"His number-one focus for us," says Paris, "besides loving us, was education. And he wasn't like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!' He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.'" Would he really phrase it that way? "He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor." But he was also "very shy."

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris' mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children "as a present" to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris' actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn't matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That's what her brother – who describes himself as "more objective" than Paris – seems to suggest. "Every time someone asks me that," Prince says, "I ask, 'What's the point? What difference does it make?' Specifically to someone who's not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn't change mine."

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. "He is my father," she says, making fierce eye contact. "He will always be my father. He never wasn't, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it's almost scary.

"I consider myself black," she says, adding later that her dad "would look me in the eyes and he'd point his finger at me and he'd be like, 'You're black. Be proud of your roots.' And I'd be like, 'OK, he's my dad, why would he lie to me?' So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he's never lied to me.

"Most people that don't know me call me white," Paris concedes. "I've got light skin and, especially since I've had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something." She points out that it's far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller's, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. "When I was really, really young, my mom didn't exist," Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized "a man can't birth a child" – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, "We gotta have a mom, right?" So she asked her dad. "And he's like, 'Yeah.' And I was like, 'What's her name?' And he's just like, 'Debbie.' And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.'" After her father's death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. "She needed a mother figure," says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris' manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) "I've had a lot of mother figures," Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, "but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn't a 'mommy' thing. It's more of an adult relationship." Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: "We're both very stubborn."

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn't see her father the way she did. "My dad would cry to me at night," she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. "Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn't do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I'm like, 'How can people be so mean?'" She pauses. "Sorry, I'm getting emotional." 

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world."Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed," says Paris."Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed." I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. "He did not bullshit us," she replies. "You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world."

Michael's 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family's lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn't mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London's O2 Arena. "He kind of hyped it up to us," recalls Paris. "He was like, 'Yeah, we're gonna live in London for a year.' We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in." But Paris remembers his "exhaustion" as rehearsals began. "I'd tell him, 'Let's take a nap,'" she says."Because he looked tired. We'd be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we'd see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs."

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG's argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. "AEG Live does not treat their performers right," she alleges. "They drain them dry and work them to death." (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being "scared" for him. "He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep."

[nuvya]

Michael Jackson: The Human Being Behind The Superstar By Paris Jackson

Paris Jackson: Life After Neverland (Rolling Stone Interview )

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. "That's Marilyn Monroe," she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. "And that's JFK. You can't even find these online." On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. "It's awesome," she had said on the way over. "They have a real electric chair and a real head!"

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that's veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she's wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she's decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him "bae" – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father's child. "Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is," says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. "The only thing that's different would be her age and her gender." Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, "in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She's very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment."

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. "They always say, 'Time heals,'" she says. "But it really doesn't. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.' So going forward, anything bad that happens can't be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it." Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: "I feel him with me all the time."

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad's handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. "He's brought me nothing but joy," she says. "So why not have constant reminders of joy?" 

She also has tattoos honoring John Lennon, David Bowie and her dad's sometime rival Prince – plus Van Halen and, on her inner lip, the word MÖTLEY (her boyfriend has CRÜE in the same spot). On her right wrist is a rope-and-jade bracelet that Michael bought in Africa. He was wearing it when he died, and Paris' nanny retrieved it for her. "It still smells like him," Paris says.

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum's attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. "I don't really like this room," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I draw the line with animals. I can't do it. This breaks my heart." She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as "desensitized" to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. "It was just self-hatred," she says, "low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn't do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore." She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide "multiple times," she says, with an incongruous laugh. "It was just once that it became public." The hospital had a "three-strike rule," she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father's death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn't fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, "a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things," she says. "I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn't do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn't really that nice of a person." She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. "The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great," she says. "But I don't think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff."

There was another trauma that she's never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older "complete stranger" sexually assaulted her, she says. "I don't wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn't tell anybody."

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. "It was great for me," she says. "I'm a completely different person." Before, she says with a small smile, "I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help." Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she's no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she's ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine's house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don't obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. "I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel," says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. "But the more I actually got to know him," says Prince, "he's a really cool guy."

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn't feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she's a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that's almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he's begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they're more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn't sure if she'll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. "I've had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time," says Paris, who understands her dad's plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. "Plenty of people think I'm ugly, and plenty of people don't. But there's a moment when I'm modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer's telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it's selfish."

But mostly, she shares her father's heal-the-world impulses ("I'm really scared for the Great Barrier Reef," she says. "It's, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man"), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. "I was born with this platform," she says. "Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?"

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed "Beat It." The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5's first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room.

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It's captioned "Of Children, Castles & Kings." Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Paris' chosen decor is somewhat different. There is a picture of Kurt Cobain in the bathroom, a Smashing Pumpkins poster on the wall, a laptop with Against Me! and NeverEnding Story stickers, psychedelic paisley wall hangings, lots of fake candles. Vinyl records (Alice Cooper, the Rolling Stones) serve as wall decorations. In the kitchen, sitting casually on a counter, is a framed platinum record, inscribed to Michael by Quincy Jones ("I found it in the attic," Paris shrugs).

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris' boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad's 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. ("Everything I never got to do as a kid," Michael called it.) During that time, she didn't know that her father's name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. "I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy," she says. "We didn't really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world." (Paris declared last year's Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her "favorite movie ever.")

"We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things." 

In his 2011 memoir, Michael's brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one."

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. "When you're at home," says Paris, "your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it's like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We're gonna go hang out with Dad.' We were like, 'We don't need friends. We've got you and Disney Channel!'" She was, she acknowledges, "a really weird kid."

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. "He was a kick-ass cook," she says. "His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie." Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine's Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine's Jehovah's Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. "My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen," she says."He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N' Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC."

She says Michael emphasized tolerance. "My dad raised me in a very open-minded house," she says. "I was eight years old, in love with this female on the cover of a magazine. Instead of yelling at me, like most homophobic parents, he was making fun of me, like, 'Oh, you got yourself a girlfriend.'

"His number-one focus for us," says Paris, "besides loving us, was education. And he wasn't like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!' He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.'" Would he really phrase it that way? "He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor." But he was also "very shy."

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris' mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children "as a present" to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris' actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn't matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That's what her brother – who describes himself as "more objective" than Paris – seems to suggest. "Every time someone asks me that," Prince says, "I ask, 'What's the point? What difference does it make?' Specifically to someone who's not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn't change mine."

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. "He is my father," she says, making fierce eye contact. "He will always be my father. He never wasn't, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it's almost scary.

"I consider myself black," she says, adding later that her dad "would look me in the eyes and he'd point his finger at me and he'd be like, 'You're black. Be proud of your roots.' And I'd be like, 'OK, he's my dad, why would he lie to me?' So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he's never lied to me.

"Most people that don't know me call me white," Paris concedes. "I've got light skin and, especially since I've had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something." She points out that it's far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller's, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. "When I was really, really young, my mom didn't exist," Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized "a man can't birth a child" – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, "We gotta have a mom, right?" So she asked her dad. "And he's like, 'Yeah.' And I was like, 'What's her name?' And he's just like, 'Debbie.' And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.'" After her father's death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. "She needed a mother figure," says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris' manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) "I've had a lot of mother figures," Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, "but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn't a 'mommy' thing. It's more of an adult relationship." Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: "We're both very stubborn."

Paris isn't sure how Michael felt about Rowe, but says Rowe was "in love" with her dad. She's also sure that Michael loved Lisa Marie Presley, whom he divorced two years before Paris' birth: "In the music video 'You Are Not Alone,' I can see how he looked at her, and he was totally whipped," she says with a fond laugh.

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn't see her father the way she did. "My dad would cry to me at night," she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. "Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn't do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I'm like, 'How can people be so mean?'" She pauses. "Sorry, I'm getting emotional."

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world."Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed," says Paris."Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed." I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. "He did not bullshit us," she replies. "You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world."

Michael's 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family's lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn't mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London's O2 Arena. "He kind of hyped it up to us," recalls Paris. "He was like, 'Yeah, we're gonna live in London for a year.' We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in." But Paris remembers his "exhaustion" as rehearsals began. "I'd tell him, 'Let's take a nap,'" she says."Because he looked tired. We'd be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we'd see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs."

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG's argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. "AEG Live does not treat their performers right," she alleges. "They drain them dry and work them to death." (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being "scared" for him. "He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep."

Paris blames Dr. Conrad Murray – who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in her father's death – for the dependency on the anesthetic drug propofol that led to it. She calls him "the 'doctor,'" with satirical air quotes. But she has darker suspicions about her father's death. "He would drop hints about people being out to get him," she says. "And at some point he was like, 'They're gonna kill me one day.'" (Lisa Marie Presley told Oprah Winfrey of a similar conversation with Michael, who expressed fears that unnamed parties were targeting him to get at his half of the Sony/ATV music-publishing catalog, worth hundreds of millions.)

Paris is convinced that her dad was, somehow, murdered. "Absolutely," she says. "Because it's obvious. All arrows point to that. It sounds like a total conspiracy theory and it sounds like bullshit, but all real fans and everybody in the family knows it. It was a setup. It was bullshit."

But who would have wanted Michael Jackson dead? Paris pauses for several seconds, maybe considering a specific answer, but just says, "A lot of people." Paris wants revenge, or at least justice. "Of course," she says, eyes glowing. "I definitely do, but it's a chess game. And I am trying to play the chess game the right way. And that's all I can say about that right now."

Michael had his kids wear masks in public, a protective move Paris considered "stupid" but later came to understand. So it made all the more of an impression when a brave little girl spontaneously stepped to the microphone at her dad's televised memorial service, on July 7th, 2009. "Ever since I was born," she said, "Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine, and I just wanted to say I love him so much."

She was 11 years old, but she knew what she was doing. "I knew afterward there was gonna be plenty of shit-talking," Paris says, "plenty of people questioning him and how he raised us. That was the first time I ever publicly defended him, and it definitely won't be the last." For Prince, his younger sister showed in that moment that she had "more strength than any of us."

The day after her trip to the Museum of Death, Paris, Michael Snoddy and Tom Hamilton, her model-handsome, man-bunned 31-year-old manager, head over to Venice Beach. We stroll the boardwalk, and Snoddy recalls a brief stint as a street performer here when he first moved to LA, drumming on buckets. "It wasn't bad," he says. "I averaged out to a hundred bucks a day."

Paris has her hair extensions in a ponytail. She's wearing sunglasses with circular lenses, a green plaid shirt over leggings, and a Rasta-rainbow backpack. Her mood is darker today. She's not talking much, and clinging tight to Snoddy, who's in a Willie Nelson tee with the sleeves cut off.

We head toward the canals, lined with ultramodern houses that Paris doesn't like. "They're too harsh and bougie," she says. "It doesn't scream, 'Hey, come for dinner!'" She's delighted to spot a group of ducks. "Hello, friends!" she shouts. "Come play with us!"Among them are what appear to be an avian couple in love, paddling through the shallow water in close formation. Paris sighs and squeezes Snoddy's hand. "Goals," she says. "Hashtag 'goals.'"

Her spirits are lifting, and we walk back toward the beach to watch the sunset. Paris and Snoddy hop on a concrete barrier facing the orange-pink spectacle. It's a peaceful moment, until a middle-aged woman in neon jogging clothes and knee-length socks walks over.She grins at the couple as she presses a button on some kind of tiny stereo strapped to her waist, unleashing a dated-sounding trance song. Paris laughs and turns to her boyfriend. As the sun disappears, they start to dance.

From being a kick-ass cook to a strict dad, here are the 5 things we learned about the King of Pop from Paris Jackson.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0kjc3VEwFM

[missingverse]

Missing Chapter Fourteen

Once again, I'd like to thank anyone who reviewed, especially those who did so in detail. I'm always dying to know what the regular readers think, good or bad. We're reaching the 'answers' arc of the story finally. I will still be quite busy over the Christmas period but I hope to find time to update as often as I can.

BTW, this chapter has something of an 'image song' or at least a song I listened to quite a lot when writing it. You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOTgwOK7rqc

…..

The day she went missing:

There was a brief moment, a sort of drunken haze, in which she was sure that the pictures she was looking at weren't real. It was too awful, too sickening to believe it was real. It had to be some sort of hallucination. Things like this only happened in fiction or in distant news stories to kids who were far enough removed from her own existence that they might as well have been fictional too.

It was cliché to say she never thought it would happen to her, but it was true.

Her homework wasn't finished (she'd not been able to stay awake long enough to get through the entire assignment) and her ancient computer had blinked out for whatever reason, and rather than wait for it to cool off she'd taken what she could salvage on a memory stick and gone into her father's home office to print it. While there, she had clicked a numbered folder on the desktop out of idle curiosity (Bob usually named his files) and-

The reality of it took a while to sink in, and when it did a lot of things she had wondered about suddenly made sense.

The foamy drool.

The stomach pains.

Bob insisting on cooking for them every evening.

Falling asleep over her homework.

Not being able to remember going to bed.

Waking up with her clothes on backwards.

Those bruises.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be sick. More than anything, she wanted to be as far away from Bob Pataki as humanly possible.

But there was that small shred of her more pragmatic self, that told her the evidence needed to be preserved because once Bob knew that she knew, he'd cover his tracks and put the blame back on her. Numb and with shaking hands, she copied the entire folder to the memory stick.

Then she fled the house, forgetting her socks and jacket in her haste.

…..

School was background noise.

Her thoughts swirled in an endless unhappy vortex.

How many strangers had seen those photographs? How many had contacted Bob with requests?

She just shook her head when Mrs Goldfarb called on her in class, and since she was usually such a good student Mrs Goldfarb let it go, with no more than a comment after the bell rang that she should see the school nurse.

She could give the memory stick to the police. They would arrest Bob. He'd do jail time, for certain.

Phoebe asked if she was feeling okay, but when she murmured something about just being tired, Phoebe happily changed the subject to talk about plans she had made with Gerald.

But what then? Bob was the only one keeping the household together. Miriam was getting worse all the time, she leaned on Bob like a crutch. With Bob gone she'd probably drink herself to death.

She picked at her lunch, tore holes in the bread and stabbed her straw through the milk until it was dripping from all angles.

There was Olga...but she'd be all smiles and tears and ice-cream and big sisterly concern until it hit her that she had to be responsible for someone else's life and resentment would set in hard. Olga would snap like a twig under the pressure. And that's if she even believed what she was told.

She skipped fourth period and sat in the bathroom, vomited twice. Retched until she thought every trace of the poison Bob had put in her was gone.

Someone might step in to adopt her in the aftermath. Patrick's mom, or Phoebe's. And then a previously only child would have to put up with their parent's attention cut in half. They would end up hating her, and she couldn't bear that.

She spent most of fifth period dragging her pen across her worksheet until it was nearly entirely black.

She'd be taken into foster care. She was too old, too bitter and not cute enough to be adopted and would end up in that no-man's-land between state care and adulthood. And foster carers were a mixed bag. She could end up with someone just as bad as Bob, if not worse.

At the beginning of sixth period, Arnold walked up to her desk and asked if she was okay. And despite herself, despite resigning herself long ago to the fact that it was never going to happen, she felt that familiar flutter in her chest.

“I'm fine,” she replied quickly, not even looking at him but facing another scribbled-in worksheet. “Why?”

“You look really pale,” he told her, blunt but kind. “I can take you to the nurse if you want-?”

There was that selfless compassion that had made her fall for him in the first place. She had managed not to cry all day, but hot tears pinched at the corners of her eyes now. By so little she was undone.

“The day's nearly over,” she said, slumping forward a bit and holding her head in her hand. It was a handy way of disguising her expression. “I'll be okay, I just have to get through this class.”

“Well....” he said, uncertain. “If you're sure...”

“I'm sure,” she said. “Thanks, Arnold.”

“Any time.”

And then he was gone.

…..

One thing was for certain; she wasn't going home.

Patrick was on vacation with his family, although he would have been happy to help.

She called Phoebe, but as soon as Phoebe answered the phone she couldn't find the words.

“I need to stay over tonight,” she blurted out. “Please.”

“Helga, I already told you Gerald's coming over tonight. My mom and dad are meeting him for the first time. You can stay tomorrow night if....”

“No, it has to be tonight,” Helga interrupted. “Look, something's happened....I called the police but Officer Plaskett's not there, I'm going to see him tomorrow....I have everything on a stick, I need to give it to him as soon as I can...”

Phoebe sighed, put down the phone for a moment to answer a question from her mother, and in doing so betrayed the fact that she was only half-listening.

“I really have to go,” Phoebe said. “I'll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, and hung up, despondent.

…..

She sat on a park bench for a long time.

The cave had running water nearby but she needed paraffin for the stove and a generator to keep her phone charged. It had only ever been a short-term solution.

Even if she could afford to rent a motel room, who would rent to an unaccompanied minor?

Pocaselas was nearby, and she could take a bus. From there she could get to pretty much anywhere, and it was full of refuges. That's why so many runaways ended up there. Then again, they'd want to take her name at the refuge and she'd probably be sent straight back to Bob.

In the end, the weather forced her hand. The sun was setting fast and the street lights were coming on, and it was starting to rain. Whatever she needed to do, she could do it in the morning. She stopped at the convenience store to get a bag of chips and a soda (a pretty poor dinner but she wasn't hungry anyway. She felt like she would never be hungry again)and made her way to the mountain range on the outskirts of Hillwood.

That was the last time Helga Geraldine Pataki was seen alive.

…..

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

As skeptical as Helga sounded, Arnold noted with amusement that she was somewhat dressed up. Blue-and-white floral sundress, blue sweater, ballet pumps.

“I'm very sure,” he told her. “I need a distraction, so do you.”

Gertie was still in the hospital pending her mental faculty test results and Phil was still with her, so while they were gone school was an afterthought. The boarding house was having its needs met by Arnold just about, and since he was already skipping school he needed to keep his promise to Helga to take her out.

Especially now that he owed her so much, he couldn't imagine what might have happened to his grandmother if Helga hadn't noticed her leaving and followed her...

“I won't argue,” she shrugged. “But don't you need a break? You've been working all morning...”

“Nope,” he answered, dragging out his bike. “Now get in the basket and let's go.”

He bought one ticket, one popcorn and one soda once they were at the cinema (she hadn't shown any inclination towards eating or drinking in all this time) but once they were seated and the movie started, it felt in all respects like Arnold was a normal kid on a date with a normal girl (even with her laughing when one of the panicky peripheral characters got his head graphically chopped off). She leaned over to whisper about the bleeding neck stump looking fake and he smiled and nodded.

This...was doable.

He could take her to movies and buy her clothes. They could watch TV together in the evenings and shop for groceries. Maybe they could even plan vacations together. It was certain that he'd be staying to run the boarding house once he graduated, and she didn't seem able to move too far beyond it without fading out.

Arnold had tossed all ideas of dating out the window when his social life tanked. He didn't have time to pay the kind of attention girls his age wanted from their boyfriends, and what college-aged girl would come home every weekend just to spend time with him? But Helga was rooted there, and they enjoyed each other's company. He wanted to make her happy, and he had a feeling she felt the same way about him (why else would she do all his homework?)

She had been on his mind since she disappeared. It was only natural that he would develop feelings for her.

Just as he was letting those thoughts simmer, he felt her flinch beside him at the sound of a gunshot. He looked over at her with concern, and found she had gone rigid as a plank of wood, staring at the screen but not really seeing it.

“Helga?” he whispered, giving her a little shake.

She flinched again, blinked slowly and shook her head, rubbing at her forehead just under the star-shaped wound.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she stammered, lowering her hand. “Just had a....weird moment.”

He'd assumed the star-shaped wound was caused by her being hit in the head with something heavy, but her reaction to the sound of the gun was opening up a new possibility.

Surely if it's a gunshot wound, it would be bigger?

None of the Black Gulch Ripper's victims were shot.

…..

They went to the pier after the movie, to watch the sun set lazily as they had when they were kids. Although the gun question was still playing on Arnold's mind, it was peaceful at the pier. Seagulls squabbled over tide leavings and you could just about make out the silhouettes of dolphins in the distance.

“Do you think I'll go to heaven?”

The question surprised him so much he nearly fell into the water.

“W-what?” he blurted out.

“I said, do you think I'll go to heaven? When all this is over,” she pressed, trailing her bare feet in the water below.

“I guess,” he shrugged, still a bit perturbed. “Why wouldn't you?”

“I dunno,” she said. “I was a pretty rotten kid.”

“No, you weren't...”

“Yes, I was,” she insisted, folding her arms. “I was a bully, and I was spiteful and I could never keep my mouth shut.”

“But none of that was your fault,” Arnold told her. “I mean...you did the best you could with what you had to work with...and kids can be really crappy sometimes but they grow out of it...”

“You were never crappy,” she told him.

“I had my moments, like anyone else. Anyway, you did a lot of good...you looked after that third grader the other kids were picking on....who else would have done that?”

She hummed quietly, looking down into the water.

“What kind of God would hold stuff you did when you were a kid against you?” Arnold pondered, looking up at the sky. “Maybe if you're here because of that God, you wouldn't want any part of his heaven.”

“That's pretty deep,” she laughed, and he was glad to hear her laughter.

“I don't think you need to worry about heaven,” he said. “You don't have to go anywhere. You can stay here.”

It happened without him realizing how close he had gotten to her; he had been inching his way towards her since she said the word 'heaven.' And suddenly he was holding her gently puzzled face in his hands, and it was so warm and alive he could feel the blood pulsing through her veins and the breath from her mouth fanning across his own.

He kissed her.

In that moment, it was glorious. Her mouth opened under his, to protest or to kiss him back he didn't know, but his senses were full of her. Her scent, her taste, the life in her body...it felt like as long as he kept kissing her he could bring her fully back into reality and the last five years would just be an unpleasant memory.

But it could only last a moment.

She pulled back and pushed him away, breathing hard and flushed and never so beautiful as in the aftermath of being kissed.

“That shouldn't have happened,” she told him sternly.

“Why not?” he pressed urgently, because he wanted her face back in his hands. He wanted to feel the blood pumping under her skin again.

“I'm dead, Arnold,” she said, and to his horror tears began slipping from her eyes. “This could only end badly for you...”

“No, it doesn't have to,” he insisted, reaching for her again. “We don't have to keep looking for who took you. You can stay as you are, I'll look after you....And eventually Phoebe might be able to see you too, it won't always be just me. You can stay at the boarding house with me, it'll be okay.”

“No,” she said firmly, wiping savagely at her eyes. “There's no future for you if I let that happen. People will think you've gone crazy.”

“I don't care.”

“I care,” she insisted. “You know, when I was alive all I ever wanted....”

He didn't hear the end of that because Helga broke off with heaving sobs, and when Arnold tried to put his arms around her she pushed him away.

“This is going to end,” she said through clenched teeth. “We're going to find out who killed me and then I'm going to fade away, heaven or hell. And you can get on with the rest of your life.”

It sounded so bitterly final. Arnold wiped away the tears that were in his own eyes, and wasn't particularly surprised that when his vision cleared she had already faded away.

[joeyvintage]

https://www.videoreligion.net/2019/01/violent-shit-2-mother-hold-my-hand-1992.html?m=1

-rev terry

I think if I were a badass, I would need a metal mask or full covering helmet of some kind. Not for the armor aspect, although head protection is always good, I'm just a fan of the look. I would wear one in my daily life now, but they are probably expensive, and people would expect me to do something cool (as I too would expect of a dude with a metal head).  All my favorite villains had one in my youth. Both Magneto and Dr. Doom from the comics commanded respect and fucked shit up while wearing some metal on their heads. They were probably my earliest examples, but honestly, that's enough to have secured my love for the style. Their helmets were both semi utilitarian but mostly just looked really awesome with their cape combo. In cartoons, GI Joe took the effects of mirrored sunglasses to the next level with Cobra Commander, as he sometimes just had a smooth piece of chrome covering his face. I can get down with that--the blank and shiny look. It’s stylish features even distracted from his shrill sounding voice. I would probably go with something a little more personalized myself, but would definitely want something metal. It just completes the whole look for me. Something about a good sturdy helmet just fits with murder and mayhem. Karl the Butcher gets it. That's why, when he died, along with his love for over-the-top murder, he passed his fancy medieval headwear down to his son, so he would be properly dressed for his own adventure in Violent Shit II (1992).

Long after the events of the first film, two makeshift drug distributing gangs meet up in an open field to engage in something nefarious with a briefcase. For whatever reason, the deal sours, and the two groups go at eliminating each other in various gusher inducing ways. The battle whittles the congregation of assorted backyard wrestles down to a one on one duel between the leaders who both happen to practice kung fu and enjoy white button-up t-shirts. After some fancy moves, one of them slays the other in combat and begins to leave the scene (sans all his dead homies, I guess) but is stopped in his tracks by the sight of a large masked man yelling at him on the horizon. Turns out Karl Butcher Jr, son of the legendary mass murderer, was out for a stroll, spotted the dealers killing each other, and, not to be left out, had rushed to join. Very quickly, Karl (Andreas Schnaas) is on top of the would-be lone brawl survivor and promptly fucks him up with a machete just before the screen goes black. Following its intro and sparse opening credits, the film takes the form of a true crime documentary in development by reporter Paul Glas. Paul believes a string of recent murders can be linked back to The Butcher massacre from twenty years before (and also, the whole thing has something to do with real-life serial killer Fritz Honka...I think?). After divulging the history of Karl senior for a bit over panning random footage of Germany, the reporter follows a tip leading to an interview with some dude in a bar who confirms his suspicions. The Deepthroat-esque “DR. X” then tells him a few stories about the original culprit’s son who, mad about a face rash or something (honestly between the bad subs and silly plot I'm still dim on some details, but it doesn't really matter), had also already done some minor rampaging of his own in the last few years . Switching formats once again, we catch up with Karl II and his (adoptive?) mother (Anke Prothmann in a lot of make-up). Turns out, Momma Butcher has been priming her young progeny to follow in her late husband's footsteps, and now that he has grown to be the spitting image of his father (complete with the heirloom medieval helmet), he is ready to do some eccentric butchery of his own. In fact, this time will be extra special, because mom is coming along too. As one could probably guess, Karl's old lady has some very peculiar parenting ideas, specifically cannibalism and incest. Also at some point, a naturally occurring body hole gets closed up with a stapler, and I think someone eats poop, so watch out for that.

The title is about as far from the old-fashioned B-movie bait and switch as you can get. Like the first film, Violent Shit is wall to wall grotesque violence, only now (in true sequel fashion), it's been turned up a few ridiculous levels. There is an increased story to it compared to the first film, that is to say, there is more than nothing tieing the insane moments of torture and dismemberment together. For the first few acts, a disjointed, random, and confusing series of events form some semblance of a point, but the film forgets about the majority of this as it moves on into plasma soaked sadism. Mostly, the additional fluff just makes room for things the series was truly missing-- like a training montage, cliche fauxumentary tropes, and Kung Fu.  Karl Jr's maternal relationship adds fucked up frosting to an already disturbing cake of sinister shit. The weird sexual thing that's going on there, combined with mom's encouraging cheers, was enough to make me glad the subtitles are wonky and that I don't speak German. At around the same runtime, it might be a little lighter on the fake entrails than the first to make room for the added story, but it wouldn't be considered lacking in most circles. The Butcher-minor is more creative than his father but also seemingly obsessed with genitals (of all genders), which is weird and takes a lot of screen time. There are a few classic machete whacks to the face for some victims. However, as the body count grows, most of the slaughter comes with long, drawn out, silly torture and bloodletting. A bare-bones opposite to the Saw-style mouse trap, instead of providing intricate setups for the deaths, the act of execution itself is long, complicated, and involves several steps. It's all sure to offend anyone who watches but is too extreme to take seriously. Even if you are of the squeamish type, by the fifteenth minute of growling testicle torture and six similar acts, the action loses any real shock and becomes either just gross or hilarious (and gross). It goes for broke, eventually just dissolving into increasing levels of carnage, capturing the essence of a drunken night between friends trying to top each other's morbid imagination. Along with its spastic rampage, the film makes several references to classic American horror films and even borrows a few plot points from the Friday the 13th series unambiguously. To its credit, it's moved forward quite a bit from the first writing-wise, although it’s not like it is casting a bigger net for an audience. It's still just random gore because that's fun sometimes, and hopefully, no one who pops in a film titled Violent Shit 2 will be worried about the level of drama involved.

Shot on tape and seemingly dumping the entirety of its finite resources into gore, Violent Shit 2 is, again, what it says on the tin. The whole thing looks like it was shot in different sections of the same public park, which it refers to as a “forest” at one point. The John Woo tribute, in the beginning, is the film’s most developed moment as far as framing and choreography go, displaying some above average movie brawling for its budget. For the film’s meat and potatoes (Karl the second, killing people), it's a lot more of the same backyard style camera work that kind of hangs around watching the action from any accessible angle. Shots seem almost placed at random, and it jumps between them with meaningless cuts. The film’s biggest draw is an overabundance of practical gore, which comes out as a step above the rest of the film quality- wise. For the lack of resources, the film utilizes some pretty gnarly effects when it comes to flesh mangling, and it doesn't skimp or pull away.  I think I counted four different consistencies of blood, and each horrible scenario is trying to top the last. Without spoiling anything, there is a range of squirtastic stabbings and stringy limb removals that, despite their amateur surrounding conditions, would give a lot of larger budget splatter flicks a run for their money.  Some of the more ambitious (for lack of a better word) moments spend a little too much time on screen and give themselves away, but all together it should more than slate any grimy blood-seekers thirst or send anyone else running. When it isn't mumbling at random volumes, the dubbing is just screaming, grunting and giggle-worthy squishing sounds with no attachment to what's on screen. Music-wise, the film is laced with an out of place, unbalanced soundtrack that sounds straight out of an RPG fantasy video game. Besides the Dungeons & Dragons mood tunes, it does have a German death metal/butt rock theme song (Violent Shit by Vice Versa) bookending it that captures the spirit nicely and almost feels critically necessary. Stick around afterward for some bonus scenes and marquee of credits that look like they are trying to sell you knock off sunglasses.

German director Andreas Schnaas has made an international name for himself with a torrent of ultra-low budget, ultra-violent gross-out splatter flicks that continues today. In 1989, he and some homies secured a tiny bit of funding to form the company Reel Gore Productions and produce their first full-length picture titled Violent Shit. Filmed over four weekends and with a rented tape recorder, the project amounted to a series of violent acts committed by a large masked man named Karl the Butcher, crafted with homemade practical effects (and little else). By the grace of the trash-gods, it saw a single midnight theater showing but received mostly negative reviews on its initial video release due to its lack of production values. However, with a little help from a to-the-point naming strategy and its unrefined grimy gusto, it found an audience worldwide over the following years in less discerning gore hounds who don't mind the homemade feel (a bunch of fucking weirdos probably). Succeeding their second feature Zombie '90: Extreme Pestilence in 1991, Andreas & Co would return to the world of Violent Shit and brewing cult following. To date, the character Karl the Butcher has appeared in six flicks, that I know of, including a reboot of sorts (Violent Shit: The Movie 2015) by Italian director Luigi Pastore, without Andreas Schnaas involvement. Schnaas himself would play the role in most outings, taking over for Karl Inger (allegedly) after the first film.

Violent Shit II: Mother Hold My Hand (aka Violent Shit 2) is a composition sketchbook of demented cartoon executions forged during an in-school suspension and realized in full-color low fidelity magnetic tape. For the right crowd, it's an awesomely inelegant, generously proportioned helping of sloppy sleaze, possibly best devoured while intoxicated. It advances from the first movie to some degree in almost every way, but it's still one for the same exclusive and fucked-up crowd. If you want tasteless acts of dismemberment, childish boundary-pushing, and obscene special effects, it's got you covered. Those seeking damn near anything outside of that, better look for their kicks elsewhere. In a way, it has the same MO as a Gallagher show, in that there are small bits of gibberish in between gags, but ultimately everyone watching is just waiting for red shit to spray, and a majority of possible viewers are not going to get the joke. I enjoy the fuck out of the unseemly mess, although I don't know what that says about me. I also really dig Karl the Butcher’s fashion sense. If only I too had been lucky enough to have inherited some cool metal headgear along with the destructive predispositions.

[bobbystompy]

My Top 75 Songs Of 2019

Previously: 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011

First time going below 100 songs since 2015, and I cannot wait. Giving this extra juice already.

As always, criteria and info:

This is a list of what I personally like, not ones I’m saying are the “best” from the year; more subjective than objective

No artist is featured more than once

If it comes down to choosing between two songs, I try to give more weight to a single or featured track

Each song on the list is linked in the title if you wanna check them out for yourself; there is also a Spotify playlist at the bottom that includes the majority of the songs

This is usually the part where I put up a pump up video, but we are going with something a little different this year.

(It was stuck my head. Blame Blink-155.)

75) YG - “In The Dark”

The video begins with YG chugging a full tequila bottle -- sure. This song is very bad. It’s like he’s in a competition to make the verse lyrics worse than the chorus lyrics (spoiler alert: the verses “win”); not even satanic imagery can save this.

74) Solange - “Stay Flo”

Here’s a weird take: wouldn’t Solange’s career be way more fun if everyone slept on her? Instead, it’s hype on hype -- plus being Beyoncé’s sister -- which makes it nearly impossible to deliver. This has a fun beat/vibe but is kinda boring... and was still easily my favorite off her album.

73) Art Alexakis - “The Hot Water Test”

My doctors told me that I had a disease / I will slowly fall apart until there’s nothing left that looks like me

This song makes the stakes clear immediately. It was released a few months after I saw Art play in June 2019 on my birthday. At the intimate show, he revealed his multiple sclerosis diagnosis as if we were all his closest friends. Something like this is never easy to deal with -- a similar announcement by the Lucky Boys Confusion singer did not help matters -- but music can help such a painful situation, and it’s clearly Alexakis’ exile here.

72) The Cranberries - “In The End”

A very suitable sendoff for the band following the passing of singer Dolores O’Riordan. The recording story (via NPR):

O'Riordan died suddenly in January 2018 at 46 years old and left behind the vocal tracks to what was intended to be the band's latest album. Now, O'Riordan's bandmates have decided to complete that album, In The End — the last album the band will release — in her memory. 

[...]

In June 2017, O'Riordan and Hogan started emailing album ideas and demos back and forth to each other. O'Riordan had been very open about her struggles with mental health and addiction, which would affect the band at times, but they wanted to make a new album. Hogan says that when they were emailing those demos, she was in a good place. They started laying down her demos.

"All of that was kind of behind her," Hogan says. "She's kind of found a way to cope with the mental health thing. That's why she wanted to write so much. That's what she kept saying, 'I have so much to say, I just need the music to put it to.' "

Hogan says O'Riordan's apparent stability is what made her death even more tragic and devastating. (Officials ruled O'Riordan's cause of death to be accidental drowning due to alcohol intoxication.) But after a period of mourning, the remaining band members remembered they still had O'Riordan's demos. As Hogan remembers, they finally had the courage to start listening to them again in late February and, with her family's permission, started recording in April. "We spoke to her family and said, 'Look, how do you feel about us finishing the album?' And they were really supportive," Lawler says. "They were delighted, actually. They gave us their blessing."

Hogan says, in a sense, they were used to O'Riordan not being in the studio when they recorded — "Dolores hated hanging around the studio once we worked on our parts" — but, of course, this time was different.

71) Raleigh Ritchie - “Time In A Tree”

Exercise time. Play the first minute or so of this song without looking at any YouTube visuals.

/waits for you

OK, who are you picturing singing this? Got your image?

Well, whatever it was, you’re wrong -- it’s GREY WORM HIMSELF.

This was the best thing about “Game of Thrones” in 2019, sadly.

70) Culture Abuse - “Goo”

Simple, effective, gets out before you can dislike much.

69) Lil Pump f/ Lil Wayne - “Be Like Me”

Sometimes, a song starts, and you can just tell it’s going to be ignorant. Even before the vocals kick in. This was probably our moment here:

Between that and the beat, it’s like the only thing you can think is “Ohhhh, he’s about to say some horrible things about women.”

Other choice lines:

- “Yes, I’m hella ignorant, I don’t give a fuck” (he even says it in the song)

- “I take drugs like it’s Vitamin C / I’m a millionaire, but I don’t know how to read”

This song almost feels like it existed already.

68) The Get Up Kids - “Satellite”

Finally, our first rock song with some punch. This probably takes the crown from both DMB and P.O.D.

67) Bad Religion - “My Sanity”

BR is historically my favorite band, so it is rather deflating to see them so far back on this list. That said, it is Year 40 (!!!) of their existence, so some can be forgiven. Yet... we’ve never needed them more, you know? It’s this weird mixture of resentment but understanding.

66) Billy Liar - “The Righteous & The Rats”

Gonna see him (them?) open for The Bombpops in March; looks quite promising. Has an old school Brit punk feel.

65) Beach Slang - “AAA”

Beach Slang never lets you forget they love -- no, like, LOVE -- The Replacements. When this cover dropped, I googled “replacements AAA”, and, surprisingly, nothing came up.

Ohhh, what I fool I was. After more digging, I discovered a band called Grandpaboy who performed “AAA”.

“Oh, damn -- he finally went outside the box with this pick.”

No. Grandpaboy is fronted by Paul Westerberg. Singer of, you guessed it, The Replacements.

James Alex wears his heart on his sleeve so hard, he might as well give the heart a little jacket so his heart can wear its own heart on its sleeve.

HE DID THAT TOO?!

You can’t even make jokes about this band; they live in the jokes with their damn earnestness.

64) Gesaffelstein & The Weeknd - “Lost In The Fire”

Even lesser known Weeknd-involved tracks sound like they could lead a soundtrack or close out a festival. Are you familiar with this one at all? It has 87 million views on YouTube. Abel is never not not playing.

63) FIDLAR - “By Myself”

Started from the bottom and I’m still at the bottom

Falling apart never felt so carefree and burdenless.

62) Constant Elevation - “Fuck Runnin”

As hardcore punk as this list is gonna get. All glory to Vinnie Caruana. Though none of his solo tracks from 2019 made it, this has an undeniable energy and confidence. Plus probably the best song title of the year.

61) Maren Morris f/ Brandi Carlile - “Common”

A focused duet that drills into relationship dynamics before throwing a personal theology wrench in the middle of the chorus.

60) Anti-Flag - “Christian Nationalist”

AF going in on the white, religious right. This is like throwing a 50 mph pitch to -- /looks up good baseball players -- Pete Alonso.

59) Cokie The Clown - “Punk Rock Saved My Life”

This is less of a song and more of a confessional essay, and it gets harder and harder to look away with every revealing detail. If NOFX’s Fat Mike needed this character as a vehicle to get all of these autobiographical details off his chest, hopefully it’s a helpful therapy.

58) White Reaper - “Might Be Right”

“Judy French” is such an untoppable song, but “Might Be Right” has a similar dynamic.

57) Denzel Curry - “RICKY”

Denzel Curry as a rap moniker is such a slam dunk.

/looks up actual name

!!!

56) Ariana Grande - “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored”

It takes a special kind of hot girl twisted to issue this unflinching request while totally pulling it off.

55) Goody Grace f/ blink-182 - “Scumbag”

Not sure if Goody is a Soundcloud rapper, punk rocker, or some kinda emo hybrid of both.

A few asides:

- Have we ever -- ever -- heard Travis Barker this subdued on drums?

- On the Blink-155 podcast, Goody said he gave Tom from the Plain White T’s a songwriting credit because he unintentionally lifted some melodies from “Hey There Delilah”, but... I really don’t hear it at all; like, it sounds maybe in the same key but not much else?

54) Jonas Brothers - “Sucker”

Despite their popularity in the past, I do not think I could name a single JoBros song. That changed in 2019 with this poppy, light, clappy, Maroon 5-style single.

53) Goo Goo Dolls - “Money, Fame & Fortune”

Someone -- coulda sworn it was Brendan Kelly -- said this was Goo Goo Dolls sounding like Fake Problems, and that is spot on.

52) AJJ - “A Poem”

A poem is song that no one cares about

This short, folky tune led to one of my favorite Twitter exchanges of the year, when I reached out to a music journalist with a question and AJJ came flying off the top rope.

51) DaBaby - “Suge”

This song is fun, but I really don’t get it. Beat is cool, flow is fine... this is the new face of hip-hop? His name is DaBaby! What are we doing here?!

50) Laura Stevenson - “Jesus, Etc.”

Taking a classic and doing it full justice/adding some harmonies.

49) blink-182 - “Not Another Christmas Song”

Blink’s 2019 album “Nine” was very, very bad because it tried too hard and was not good. This song, released later in the year, takes an opposite approach and actually works. We get lyrics that are discontent, even clumsy at times -- the “I miss fucking in the rain” line is so out of place/cringe-y but actually feels real and not workshopped by 10 producers. The trio can hopefully use this better b-side to figure out the best songwriting should flow out of you without having to go through multiple stations on a conveyor belt first.

48) Dave Hause - “Eye Aye I”

This song has a lot I love (catchy chorus, wistful thoughts, hairline analyses) and a lot I don’t (genuine use of the word “old bores”, Van Halen getting respect), but one thing is clear: Dave Hause is in complete control.

47) Beck - “Up All Night”

I’ve casually followed Beck’s entire career and would not have guessed this was him if given 100 chances. As an exercise, I’m going to pull up the 2020 Coachella lineup and randomly point to an artist.

/pulls up lineup and points

I got Daniel Caesar. If you told me this was Daniel Caesar, that would probably make more sense here.

46) Shawn Mendes - “If I Can’t Have You”

Randomly came into Shawn Mendes tickets in 2019, and good gracious, that was something. Other than parents, we were the oldest people there by a lot. Getting to watch thousands of teens and preteens legitimately having the best moment of their lives was downright inspiring. When you’re that young, it’s not even hyperbole. Phones were flagrantly out; I’m talking 20+ minutes of straight video being filmed. I wanted to judge so badly, but if you gave me an iPhone at my first concert when I was 14, who the hell knows how egregious my behavior would’ve been. As fun as the whole experience was, I never wanted to be in a grimy punk club more. Sometimes, leaving your comfort zone makes you appreciate your home base more.

This is a rock solid pop song, but there are way too many you/you rhymes to not penalize it some.

45) Big Thief - “Cattails”

The whitest song you will ever hear that isn’t written by Vampire Weekend.

44) Bayside - “Prayers”

Bayside went super metal with their 2019 release “Interrobang” (such a sick name). So yes, the guitars are a touch harder than you might be used to, but the chorus soars; a great hook transcends genre.

43) Naughty Boy & Mike Posner - “Live Before I Die”

Few had as interesting of a year as Mike Posner. Following a breakup, the death of his father, and the death of Avicii, he decided to walk across the United States of America. He legit became Forrest Gump, right down to the beard and grown out hair.

In the video, you can see how a snakebite hospitalized him and almost derailed the whole trek. After a rehabilitation period where he almost lost his leg, our man finally makes it to the Pacific Ocean. If nothing else, watch for the ending -- it’s exhilarating.

42) Post Malone - “Wow.”

Post is flexing in this one; we’ve got slow motion jamming with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, international flights, a dancing beard guy, and a Fall Out Boy name check which really makes them sound cooler than they are now.

41) Bryce Vine f/ YG - “La La Land”

Sometimes, these summertime Cali songs write themselves. That is until YG comes in and flips over the board before you can finish the game. By the time the Coachella reference is dropped when Bryce comes back in, you realize 1:47 may have actually been a better endpoint for the song than its 2:47 length.

40) David Rokos - “Backseat Drives”

It’s winter in Chicago, again and until forever. If you haven’t been to the Jewel in the South Loop or Marshall Field’s before they changed it, just listen to this so you don’t actually have to.

39) Simple Creatures - “Drug”

Mark Hoppus and the dude from All Time Low give us this synth-pop bop that feels like the duo shooting their shot at a real mainstream pop hits. It didn’t quite get there, but they should feel OK about where it landed.

38) Chris Cresswell - “To The Wind”

My interest in The Flatliners ramped up considerably in 2019, as their near decade old record “Cavalcade” got plenty of spins (peep “Filthy Habits”; just stunningly incredible punk). Though they did not release anything this year, their singer put out “To The Wind”, a longing song about missing someone.

37) Kesha f/ Big Freedia - “Raising Hell”

Kesha, with the help of New Orleans’ Big Freedia, gives us another one. I’ve personally dug Kesha for a while now, but when is it time for us as a society to put her into the all-time conversation for pop artists? She has at least, like, seven HOF certifiable bangers. Plus she kills a guy in this music video.

In conclusion, I think this could translate to a country song very easily.

36) No Lenox - “Marquee”

Illinois/Japan’s No Lenox are back with Reuben Baird on the mixer and legendary masterer Collin Jordan (of The Boiler Room) on the, well, master, and the fullness in sound leads to the assault that is the “I saw your name on the marquee / Your friends were milling around outside” part. They only play it once, but I really could’ve gone for closer to five.

35) Red City Radio - “Love A Liar”

Rapid fire Red City Radio gets this one done in exactly 120 seconds.

34) Barely March - “Lead Single”

This sounds like Joyce Manor turned up to a 17 out of 10 before unexpectedly turning into a hellogoodbye song.

33) New Lenox - “Old Words”

Not a typo from two songs ago -- legitimately a different band. This one was written by your boy. The first 15 seconds were from a demo recorded 1/2/16 before developing the rest in 2019 (after some encouragement). We have Dave Rokos on guitar/bass, Dave Hernandez on hums, and Brian Bedford on some very temporary sleigh bells. Themes: online dating, resolutions, exes, currents, Black Wednesday, hope, and Carly Rae Jepsen stage banter.

32) MakeWar - “Sails”

Honey, I can’t make it on my own

You might get some Gaslight Anthem vibes as the vocals come in, but by the time the song ends, MakeWar leaves their own imprint on this impassioned ballad.

31) Sheryl Crow & Johnny Cash - “Redemption Day”

Was gonna say Johnny’s voice could move mountains before realizing no, Johnny’s voice is the mountains.

30) American Football f/ Hayley Williams - “Uncomfortably Numb”

Sensitivity deprived I can't feel a thing inside I blamed my father in my youth Now as a father, I blame the booze

An unlikely collaboration that makes you forget about its unlikeliness by the two minute mark. The two voices trade spots, mesh, harmonize, and weave throughout this beautiful song.

Asides:

- Blake from “Workaholics” in the video?!

- Choose to interpret this song’s title as a Pink Floyd diss

- “I’ll make new friends in the ambulance” should be a 2005-level emo lyric that we all mock, yet it’s somehow one of the most stunningly appropriate closers of the entire year

- I wish my friend Luke was with us to hear it

29) Stuck Out Here - “Embarrass You”

Stuck Out Here got onto my radar with 2014′s amazingly named “Getting Used To Feeling Like Shit”. Five years later, they’re back -- and not feeling much better. The Toronto quartet’s Bandcamp describes the song like this:

They’re fucking up, but unlike previous releases, they’re finally holding themselves accountable. 

You can even kinda hear their Canadian accents in the “I’m sorry I embarrass you...” part.

28) The Weeknd - “Heartless”

The Weeknd will be on these lists as long as he continues to make music even 1/8th as good as this.

27) The Chainsmokers f/ blink-182 - “P.S. I Hope You’re Happy”

A simple song that’s a touch more clever than you first realize. The Chainsmokers guy is giving me some real Owl City vibes. Also, how airtight of an apology is the line “I blame myself for when I was someone else”. It’s like the modern way of saying “When I was a child, I spoke like a child”. 

Also also, the “I will find a way somehow...” harmony in the pre-chorus is as pretty as music got in 2019. The Chainsmokers are so sonically pleasing, whether you end up liking the music or not.

26) Vampire Weekend - “Harmony Hall”

ooooooooh, that crisp guitar in the intro

25) Alex Lahey - “Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself”

If Carly Rae Jepsen can get a sword, why can’t Alex Lahey get a god damn saxophone? HIT ME.

That solo, combined with the “Mighty Ducks” reference in the chorus, make this song untouchable.

24) Lizzo - “Truth Hurts”

Let’s be clear: this did drop in 2017 but was technically re-released in 2019, so it does qualify for our list despite the criteria threatening timeline. Anyway.

The walking piano part, the iconic intro line (with a lawsuit!), the Minnesota Vikings reference (causing a Green Bay radio edit), and all of the damn positivity. Lizzo was among music’s big winners this year, and her success made you wonder how the hell someone this talented was slept on for those two years.

Let’s end with the purse.

23) An Horse - “Ship Of Fools”

Awkward band name, but a song that makes you pay attention. Kinda like Tegan and Sara, had they stayed more rock. So much urgency in the vocals and lyrics.

22) Charli XCX f/ Lizzo - “Blame It On Your Love”

Trippy vid; Charli continues to give us anthems. Wasn’t super high on the Lizzo cameo, but it somehow made more sense in the context of said video.

21) Sincere Engineer - “Dragged Across The Finish Line”

Sincere Engineer is back -- you can tell from the second those guitar leads get goin’. Drums from 1:19 to 1:36 = /heart eyes emoji. My buddy Cox said his next tattoo very well could be the outro lyric “Too dumb to succeed, too honest to cheat”.

(Bonus fact: they did a beer collaboration/show with Pollyanna Brewing Company in 2019.)

20) Lil Nas X - “Old Town Road”

Was unwilling to listen when this first dropped solely because of how horrible Lil Nas X’s name is (”What if a rapper came out named ‘Lil Jay-Z X’?!”)... what a foolish notion. One billion streams and a Billy Cyrus cameo later, I wouldn’t have been able to miss out on the Song of the Summer (and year) if I tried. More notes:

- Picked this because I had to, but “Panini” is legit good (200+ million streams)

- Went with the original (sorry, Billy), which is a beautiful 1:53 long (brevity, brevity, brevity)

- Did you know: Lil Nas X uses a Nine Inch Nails sample on the beat? This Rolling Stone interview with Trent Reznor is super interesting

Reznor calls “Old Town Road” “undeniably hooky,” but once it exploded, he took a back seat to the phenomenon. “The reason I haven’t stepped in to comment anything about it is, I don’t feel it’s my place to play any kind of social critic to that,” he says. “It was a material that was used in a significant way and it turned into something that became something else, and those guys should be the ones the spotlight is on…. They asked if I wanted to do a cameo in the video, and it was flattering, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t feel like it’s my place to shine a light on me for that. I say that with complete respect.”

Still, Reznor is amazed at how the song became a juggernaut. “Having been listed on the credits of the all-time, Number One whatever-the-fuck-it-is wasn’t something…I didn’t see that one coming,” he says. “But the world is full of weird things that happen like that. It’s flattering. But I don’t feel it’s for me to step in there and pat myself on the back for that.”

19) Gryffin & Carly Rae Jepsen - “OMG”

What doesn’t this little bop have? It’s kinda Chainsmoker-y and tingles like cool breath hitting the back of your neck.

18) Craig Finn - “Blankets”

You travel your whole life just to get out to the place you’re gonna die

I love everything about this song: the artwork, the intro, the climax, the command Craig Finn has from start to finish -- with such a payoff. Now several albums in, the greatest compliment we can give is that his solo stuff now feels more essential than Hold Steady releases*. You can even hear it in this line: “When we got to the Twin Cities / I said ‘Man, I know some songs about this place’”. Another life.

17) Carly Rae Jepsen - “Now That I Found You”

Carly always keeps us in the sky; picking one song was difficult because the album is even more fulfilling as you get to put the pieces together.

16) Billie Eilish - “Bad Guy”

Different genres*, but Billie Eilish lived up to her hype in the exact same way Lana Del Rey did in the earlier part of the decade. Lana said she was the gangster Nancy Sinatra and totally fucking was. Billie feels like something potentially even bigger. Nearly everything about her aura lets you project (or even second guess, if you’re a skeptic). Is she dead-eyed because she’s high or disaffected? Or just Aubrey Plaza? Is it her or her brother that’s pulling the strings? How can someone so young be so good already? In the skinny fashion era of All Achilles Everything, how is she rocking such loose fits?

“I never want the world to know everything about me. I mean that’s why I wear big baggy clothes,” she said. “Nobody can have an opinion because they haven’t seen what’s underneath.”

“Nobody can be like ‘Oh, she’s slim-thick, she’s not slim-thick, she’s got a flat ass, she’s got a fat ass,’” she continued. “No one can say any of that because they don’t know.”

It almost seems too easy, but how much sense does that make to you?

Great jokes aside, I have so much anticipation for what’s next, with assured belief in its potential. Pitchfork: 

In 10 years, she will still be well under 30. Let’s hope the planet survives that long.

Yes.

(* - though not totally)

15) Ben Gibbard - “Filler”

Before you check Gibbard’s, please listen to the original by Minor Threat. That’s what he had to work with. From there, a total transformation while doing the near impossible -- keeping its beating heart.

14) Martha - “Wrestlemania VIII”

Third favorite song title of the year/favorite music video of the year. This is energetic, bratty punk at its finest; also surprised to find out it was British, but, based on the upcoming tour dates and YouTube description...

This is a silly & frankly quite rubbish video but when you are a band trapped within surveillance capitalism's endless hunger for content trying to promote a tour sometimes things will be a silly & frankly quite rubbish. 

I love them. Seriously didn’t even notice the accents in the singing until I knew to look for them; now, it’s all I can hear. Also, the part in the video where they finally show someone with an instrument, only he stops playing guitar halfway into the solo (/crying emoji).

THEY SAY ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDA

13) Chance The Rapper f/ Ben Gibbard - “Do You Remember”

Chance The Rapper dropped a one hour and 17 minute album in 2019 because he is a monster. I could not name three songs on it, but this one stood out big. It’s Chano doing what he does best: reminiscing and evoking summer in his city. Gibbard on the hook gives it that 2005 nostalgia while also making you say “Damn, it’s been nearly 15 years since 2005?!”

Fav two lines:

1) “Used to have obsession with the ‘27 Club’ / Now I'm turning 27, wanna make it to the 2070 club / Put the 27's down, Lord, give me a clean lung / Took the ring up out the box, I know this ain't no brief love”

2) “That summer left a couple tan lines / I love my city, they let me cut the line on the Dan Ryan”

(If you know, you know.)

Two more asides:

- If you Google “death cab for cutie”, the next autofill from there is “do you remember”. Rough for the legacy.

- “My daughter on the swing like the 2017 Cubs” is a line that confused me, but here’s how Genius explained it:

Chance is talking about a memorable summer and the things that made him happy. This line continues that theme when he raps about his daughter happily on a swing and how that’s similar to the 2017 Cubs. The Chicago Cubs won the World Series in 2016; therefore, the 2017 season was one of celebration and relaxation as the pressure of the 108 year drought was over. 

12) Lana Del Rey - “The Greatest”

I miss Long Beach, and I miss you...

Listening to this song feels like watching the cement dry on a classic in real time. Lana Del Rey’s galactic “Norman Fucking Rockwell!” dominated lists at the end of 2019, and she -- to borrow her word -- fucking deserved it.

- The Beach Boys line is so god damn perfect

- The guitar solo (soooo sick)

- The breathy singing; the crooning; the notes that go up and then down until you’re surrounded by melody

- The perfection of this album name (minus the very iffy exclamation point) will have me comparing nearly any other all-time album title for probably the rest of our lives 

- Tried playing this album during my Monday night pickup basketball run, and it very much failed... but that’s about the only thing it couldn’t do

- I’m told the dude with her on the album cover is Jack Nicholson’s grandson (named Duke Nicholson, because of course)

11) Off With Their Heads - “No Love”

If you do not like punk rock, this will be unlistenable. If you do, what a treat! I love how dissatisfied and put off he sounds, and, while there are a few more lively songs remaining on the list, none in 2019 got fast-tracked to my workout/pump up playlist at this speed.

Factoring in the band’s van accident (occurred after the release of this song), the “There’s nothing I could say that’s ever gonna make it right” outro becomes hauntingly clairvoyant.

10) Drake f/ Rick Ross - “Money In The Grave”

We need to face facts: it was a down year for stadium hip-hop. Nowhere on this list do you see Jay, Em, Kendrick, or Kanye (rest in peace). This was my favorite rap song of the year, and it couldn’t even crack the Top 5. Similar to his beloved Raptors -- who are being celebrated here -- it’s almost as if Drake needed some injuries outside his own locker room to get the crown. But I’m done being bummed, let’s focus on the good:

- Ohhhh, the intro (”I mean where. the fuck. should I. really even start?”)

- The way he says “grave” in the hook like he can barely contain 

- The hook itself -- read it out loud: “When I die, put my money in the grave”

- How cool Ross sounds when he breaks in

- The Zion reference

The bad:

- Rarely take this angle, but really wouldn’t mind if it were longer

- Misogyny

9) PUP - “Bloody Mary, Kate And Ashley”

Second favorite song title of the year, 6/8 time signature, satanic references, drugs, hallucinations (maybe), and, yes, the Olsen twins.

8) Better Oblivion Community Center - “Sleepwalkin’”

“It’s impossible to count...”

The intro, as the tempo gets jarringly slower and slower, ironically helps you acclimate quicker. This Phoebe Bridgers/Conor Oberst collab was my No. 1 played track of 2019 (the album coming out in January definitely helped). The song builds to Phoebe’s solo part:

You like beer and chocolate I like setting off those bottle rockets We can never compromise But fighting 'til the death keeps us alive

It’s sung so well, you can almost feel the heat of the spotlight on her through the stereo. The lyrics could be anything.

The chill guitar solo takes us out.

7) AM Taxi - “Saint Jane”

Adam Krier is such a rockstar, he had me shouting “I’m no hero, at best a zero!” within my fifth listen -- and I was skeptical as hell when I first heard the line. But that’s about where it stopped. You can tell this song is going to rip even before the vocals come in. When they do (”These fears don’t die, you get older and they multiply”), it’s just fucking time to go.

6) Taylor Swift - “Paper Rings”

My favorite pop song of 2019. Tay is firing on all cylinders; every lyric is exactly where it’s supposed to be; boppy and fun and sincere (while still being light-hearted). Still holding out minor hope it will be a single in 2020.

5) Pkew Pkew Pkew - “The Polynesian”

I’ve always said the best songs make you want to live the lyrics, whether they are positive or negative. This one had me researching “polynesian wisconsin” faster than I’m comfortable disclosing. And yes “bed bugs” and “needles” were both in the Top 7 recommended searches after those first two words.

Pkew Pkew Pkew collaborated with Craig Finn on some of their lyrics on 2019′s “Optimal Lifestyles”, and I’d be blown away if he doesn’t have fingerprints on this one -- the storytelling is pristine. Go into this open-minded, and I’d be shocked if you weren’t shouting the “Goatees, tall cans, camo pants, and Packers fans” mantra by the end.

Bonus story: this St. Patrick’s day in Chicago, I asked my friend Sara (Wisconsin native) if she’d ever stayed there, and she held up her elbow and showed me a scar from the hotel’s water slide. Your boy was over the moon.

4) Spanish Love Songs - “Losers”

It gets harder, doesn’t it?

Dylan Slocum has a way of not just writing depressing songs -- many lyricists are good at that -- but specifically depressing songs. This song contemplates death, homelessness, squandering your limited time on the planet, credit card debt, leeching off your parents because you have no other choice, crippling illness, and completely giving up because there genuinely is no other choice. The last lines are, without any hint of winking, “We’re mediocre. We’re losers. Forever.”

It’s wonderful.

Two straight Top 4 finishes for SLS; their 2020 album should be something special.

3) oso oso - “the view”

If Jade Lilitri is making personal progress in “microscopic strides”, you wouldn’t be able to tell by his songwriting. Every tune has a way of warming up your entire body and being. This grabs you, whether it’s the laid back guitar or the mismatched quick drums or the big ass chorus. While it came down to this one or “basking in the glow” (an actual single), the bridge here puts us over the top:

But not as much as the phone ringing Not as much playing my house Not as much as the way her goddamn voice sounds It's like taking in sun And then taking it back I fall into old habits I'm stepping over your cracks again

Her voice? This song.

2) The Menzingers - “Strangers Forever”

This song makes me want to rip up walls, sprint through streets with no destination, shred my lungs screaming off rooftops, bash hands drumming the steering wheel until my sprained fingers beg me to stop. It is such a perfect encapsulation of my favorite band of the decade and possibly of all-time.

Scranton’s sons gave me everything and more from 2010 through 2019, so it’s fitting they end so high here. This is probably the most clownable sentence of them all, but I am so constantly thankful I am alive to experience Greg Barnett’s songwriting. What he creates, I can only compare to the best books or movies or athletes or even personal relationships.

The way the guitar alternates in the headphones to start, the drums that go big and push the song along, the reverb vox that certainly could have less reverb, the “it is what it is”-style lyric of “My miserable memory’s making me more miserable”, the oceanic imagery, the quiet bridge that explodes into a final chorus. Barnett said the overall theme was inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina”.

In it, the character Darya Alexandrovna learns of her husbands infidelity and declares: “Even if we remain in the same house, we are strangers — strangers forever!” The idea of becoming a stranger to someone you so intimately know stuck with me, and became the overarching narrative to this song. Dolly’s statement is definitive, but she also realizes the trappings of 19th century patriarchal Russian society. It’s a complex conundrum, and while lyrically I speak in the first person, this song exists in a world outside of my own personal experiences. I wanted to write about the finality of relationships that need to end this way. Strangers Forever. 

My only gripe is I wish there were more. But I’m the same person who never wants them to stop.

1) Signals Midwest f/ Sincere Engineer - “Your New Old Apartment”

Only one song could make me fear missing the chance to be with the love of my life the same year I married her. As discussed in “The Polynesian”, the best songs have the consistent ability to put you in someone else’s shoes. You are either reliving something you personally experienced or maybe taking it all in for the first time. And that can be powerful -- especially dealing with anything big picture.

“Your New Old Apartment” launches me into 2009 without ever asking. Age: 23. My life was transient, I had no career, I didn’t even believe in marriage. I left my retail job in the Chicago suburbs for an unpaid newspaper internship in New Jersey. When I saw the people I loved, I always tried to make it count. Still do.

The descriptors and feeling are suffocating, right from the jump:

I only saw you a couple times last year Once at a wedding, once at a funeral I wore the same clothes to both, and I was worried you would notice ‘cause yours were impeccable

That’s me, then. Not knowing how to dress but hoping to get by anyway. I remember talking to my buddy P before buying my “work clothes” and learning you needed to match your shoes with your belt. Boyish adulthood.

The song continues, and the narrator is filled in on 5-year plans. It may be cliche to speak, but every current moment is simultaneously your youngest and oldest. Being in my early 30s now, it is so easy to scoff at anyone’s best laid plans, but I’m also the same cat who thought The Wonder Years’ “Jesus Christ, I’m 26 / All the people I graduated with / All have kids, all have wives, all have people who care if they come home at night” was life-defining, because I was the same age when that dropped, and it always hits the hardest when it’s all around you.

What I love about these lyrics are the careful observation mixed with mature-behind-his-years restraint. For a very long time in my life, I did not think I would get to be with my wife as anything more than a friend. When you are forced to come to terms with those potential realities, you must make concessions and convince yourself they’re OK. So when it’s revealed the narrator’s muse is married, he resigns himself to hopefully seeing the person more and at least being adjacent to the life they are living. It is tragic but still something. It is alternate hope in the hopeless.

I can picture myself listening to this song that wasn’t yet written while leaving a 2009 or 2010 or 2013 wedding and wishing I told her everything. But I wouldn’t have -- not then. I would have poured my heart out into a diary and quoted a line or three from this at the bottom. But that was then, this is now. 

In 2019, her new old apartment will be my new old apartment, and that will never be lost on me.

* * *

Bonus coverage. Since we are at the end of the decade, I rounded up our No. 1 song from each year and have that below:

2010: The Menzingers - “Time Tables” 2011: Jay-Z & Kanye West - “Gotta Have It” 2012: Carly Rae Jepsen - “Call Me Maybe” 2013: Kanye West - “On Sight” 2014: The Menzingers - “Where Your Heartache Exists” 2015: Big Sean f/ Kanye West - “All Your Fault” 2016: The Menzingers - “Lookers” 2017: The Menzingers - “After The Party” 2018: Horror Squad - “I Smoke The Blood” 2019: Signals Midwest f/ Sincere Engineer - “Your New Old Apartment”

* * *

It’s time to stop writing. Thank you so much for reading.

Spotify playlist is here, featuring 70 of the 75.

[disappearingground]

She’s not afraid to make key changes

Los Angeles Times September 24, 2008

Jenny Lewis, 32, involved her family - blood and musical - on her new solo album, "Acid Tongue." 

By Ann Powers

Jenny Lewis no longer calls Silver Lake home, but she hasn’t moved to Laurel Canyon. The woodsy bungalow she shares with her companion and musical collaborator, Johnathan Rice, sits in an obscure corner of the San Fernando Valley, not too far from either of the neighborhoods favored by L.A.'s rock elite, but on its own ground.

“I feel like this is an undiscovered area,” said the 32-year-old singer-songwriter on a recent Friday afternoon.

As Lewis discussed her latest solo album, “Acid Tongue,” out this week on Warner Bros. Records, Rice padded around in his swim trunks, tending to some barbecue. Domestic bliss, interrupted by the occasional interview; such is life for a modestly famous member of the city’s creative class.

“Lewis, is that you squeaking? What is that noise?” Rice called into the room at one point.

“No babe,” she said. “That must have been a bird.”

Lewis is comfortable in undiscovered neighborhoods, off to the side of the action. You hear some cool, weird sounds in places like this.

Fans of well-wrought pop have been following Lewis’ quest for the unexpected since she co-founded Rilo Kiley with Blake Sennett, a former child actor like herself, in 1998. That band was part of a shift in indie music away from heavy, primal rock toward a more eclectic, self-consciously literate sound. Along with allies including Death Cab for Cutie, Bright Eyes and the Decemberists, Rilo Kiley picked up the line that connects J.D. Salinger to Elvis Costello to David Foster Wallace to the guitar-strumming, creative writing undergrads of today.

For Lewis, however, Rilo Kiley isn’t enough. All the members of that now on-again, off-again band have side projects; her solo efforts have found the biggest audience. “Rabbit Fur Coat,” the 2006 album she made with the vocal duo the Watson Twins, was a critical favorite and one of Billboard’s Top 10 Independent Albums of 2006.

Rilo Kiley’s fourth album, last year’s “Under the Blacklight,” wasn’t as well-loved as that release; since then, fans have pondered whether Lewis might leave the band for good.

“We’ll see what kind of songs I’ll write, and that’s going to guide me,” she said. “We don’t hang out as much as we used to, but it’s been that way for a couple of years, Jason [Boesel, Rilo’s drummer] played on my record, and Pierre [de Reeder, bassist] and I did the album art together. So we’re involved in each others’ lives. We’re family, really. And even if we don’t make another record, we’ll still be a family.”

Musicians often naturally move beyond the nuclear unit of a band, but Lewis hasn’t given up on family. Scattered or shattered kinship is a dominant theme in her songs, especially on “Rabbit Fur Coat,” which was partially a meditation on her parents’ broken marriage. “Acid Tongue” forms family in a different way. There are special appearances by her sister, Leslie Lewis, and her father, Eddie Gordon, a harmonica virtuoso who spent much of Lewis’ childhood touring in a group called the Harmonicats.

“The act was very schticky,” Lewis said, smiling.

Lewis had never played music with her dad, but the sessions for “Acid Tongue” provided the right atmosphere. This was due to her other family, the circle of musicians she’s been cultivating for the past 10 years.

“I knew I was surrounded by my friends and that they would treat him with respect, and he’d feel comfortable,” she said. “And it was really lovely having him. He hung out in the studio for a couple of days, and my sister came down and she sang on a couple of songs, which was incredible.”

“Acid Tongue” has an all-star roster -- Elvis Costello, Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, A Perfect Circle bassist Paz Lenchantin and Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes all participated -- but these better-known names represent just a fraction of Lewis’ crew. Other key players include Rice, who co-wrote several of the new album’s songs; producers Farmer Dave Scher and Jason Lader; and singer-songwriters Benji Hughes and Jonathan Wilson.

Lewis wanted to capture the atmosphere she’d encountered at Wilson’s Laurel Canyon house parties. “We’d go to these jams in the canyon,” she said. “They’re fantastic. Jonathan invites older session musicians from the real Laurel Canyon era, and younger people who are just starting their bands who happen to live in the canyon, and we all get together and sing Grateful Dead covers and J.J. Cale songs.”

She sighed. “ ‘Jam,’ a word I don’t often use. That and ‘gig bag,’ those are the two I try to avoid!”

Her joke exposed a conflict within Lewis, between a longing for the connections artists shared when Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young wandered Laurel Canyon, and her suspicions about the nostalgia that longing represents. The tension, not unrelated to Lewis’ fragmented upbringing, becomes artistically fruitful when she feels safe enough to explore it musically.

“She is the songbird of the scene,” said Wilson, reached by phone in Chicago, where he is touring. “I see her cut loose when she comes over and maybe she does a song that she’s hearing for the first time. I definitely hear it on the album, that sense of freedom. Who better to implement that than her? Because she’s a bird. Not only can she write songs but she’s got the technical thing, it’s just completely effortless.”

“Acid Tongue” abounds with genre experiments that take dangerous turns. “Black Sand” is a “Teen Angel"-style car-crash ballad that substitutes misogynistic murder for the dead man’s curves of the early 1960s. “Fernando” is a rockabilly romp that celebrates Mexican vacationing as a route to oblivion.

The gospel-flavored “Jack Killed Mom” is about, you guessed it, matricide. And in the title track, a country-pop ballad Dolly Parton could have written if she’d gone to Woodstock, Lewis presents herself as a female adventurer whose ultimate prize is exhaustion.

“Everything tends to be a response to the thing that I’ve written before,” Lewis said of her songwriting process. “It’s even as simple as, ‘OK, I’ve written a ballad, now I want to push myself to write something that’s uptempo.’ If I’m writing about myself, well, that subject can be tiresome, so then I focus on character-driven songs. So I’m always doing this back-and-forth just to keep myself interested.”

This drive to try new approaches is a quality Lewis shares with Costello, her onetime admirer (a few years back, he started declaring Lewis his favorite young songwriter) and current occasional collaborator. The alternative rock statesman proves a spirited duet partner on “Carpetbaggers,” a Rice composition on “Acid Tongue.” The session inspired Costello to make his 35th album, “Momofuku,” upon which Lewis and her posse appear.

“On the day we finished my record he booked the studio for about a week and finished what would become ‘Momofuku,’ ” Lewis said. “I was like, ‘I’m backing him?’ I truly can’t believe it. And he’s so cool. He’s a chiller, that’s what we’d say in Southern California.”

Chill is a state Lewis favors these days. She kept the sessions for “Acid Tongue” as open as possible, inviting her friends to drop by and join in on the analog equipment at Sound City Studios in Van Nuys, near where she grew up. Each song was left more or less intact after recording -- no fixing on Pro Tools. This approach was a typical switch for the songwriter, away from the slicker “Under the Blacklight” and toward that more grass-roots feel.

She’s still proud of “Blacklight,” though it divided Rilo Kiley fans. Some questioned the band’s motivations in making a more commercial album. At the time, Lewis favored wearing very short skirts or hotpants onstage; one music journalist, Kate Richardson, created a flow chart of Rilo Kiley’s decline as it correlated to the rise in Lewis’ hemlines.

“Part of her appeal is that she at least used to write these really good, sad, bitter songs that were kinda sharp,” said Richardson, who crafted the chart for Idolator.com. “She had a lot of emotion behind her. But she’s also really hot, really cute. So girls were projecting and guys thought she was really attractive. As she started owning the sexual part of her image more, I thought that was fine, good for her. But it coincidentally went along with a change in their sound.”

Lewis took it in stride. “That’s what you get with a record like ‘Under the Blacklight,’ she said. “I was wearing hot pants and singing about sexuality. Not everyone understood that we were poking fun.”

Lewis said she might be ready for a new persona -- another step in her restless evolution. “It doesn’t really have to do with that response,” she said. “It’s just my own back-and-forth with what I do. So I want to wear hot pants, and then I want to wear cargo pants.”

She laughed. “Now, that would be really flattering.” Some things, perhaps, are best left undiscovered.

[dippedanddripped]

A skinny, gap-toothed kid gesticulates wildly in the parking lot of Mike’s Drive-In in Oregon City. Short dreads stick up on either side of his head, like antennae to some alien planet. His friends, in the deep background, hang out of a silver Honda, goofing on one another. But it’s nearly impossible to take your eyes off the skinny kid, with his awkward dance moves and urgent facial expressions. He commands your attention. He needs it.

This is the video for Aminé’s persistently catchy “Caroline,” a half-sung, half-rapped summer anthem that went viral in 2016—the video has more than 200 million YouTube views, and the kid front and center is the artist himself. It’s Aminé’s best-known song, and for most music fans both within his home city of Portland and beyond, it represented the MC/singer/director’s colorful first impression.

Aminé—born Adam Amine Daniel, son of Ethiopian and Eritrean immigrants to Portland and a graduate of Benson High—had been around awhile before “Caroline” hit. His debut album, Odyssey to Me, appeared in 2014, though it has long been expunged from the commercial internet. It begins with a low-key prophecy: “I’m headed to my next show / I gotta go / Headed to that Madison Square / 25,000 fans in the air.” Then an accented female voice repeats “Adam, wake up.” It’s Aminé’s mother, coaxing him back to Portland obscurity. But it’s too late. The dream has taken root.

Aminé hasn’t played Madison Square Garden just yet, but he has definitely found a bigger stage. In 2017, the hip-hop magazine XXL included him in its influential Freshman Class, which functions as a sort of critical watchlist of stars in the making. Billboard and the New York Times both weighed in favorably, the latter calling his major-label debut, Good for You, “one of this year’s most intriguing hip-hop albums and also a bold statement of left-field pop.” The album sold 13,000 copies in its first week, debuting at no. 34 on Billboard’s US charts. After a set at Lollapalooza, Daniel posed for photographs with his arm around a new fan, Malia Obama.

Through sheer will and a catchy song, a colorful dream world became Aminé’s reality. From the outside, it’s like he came out of nowhere. That’s intentional. To become the next big thing in the music world of the late 2010s, you have to let the world in on the ground floor. That can sometimes mean recalibrating, or even erasing, your pre-fame history. All the way along, Aminé—who, through manager Justin Lehmann, declined to be interviewed for this piece and did not respond to requests for comment on this story—had boosters and collaborators. Some have come along for the ride. Some were left in the dust. This is the years-long story of Aminé’s overnight success.

Born in 1994, Aminé grew up in Northeast Portland. He’s said his biggest aspiration back then was “to be Kobe Bryant,” a dream dashed when he was cut from the Benson basketball team as a freshman. But he also grew up in a musical environment—he’s told interviewers his parents listened to everything from Ethiopian music to John Mayer—and music eventually became an obsession. In his first recorded performance, he told Vice in August, he rapped about girls and rival high schools over Waka Flocka Flame’s “O Let’s Do It.”

Josh Hickman, a thoughtful and soft-spoken 26-year-old, is three years Aminé’s senior. He also went to Benson and both ran track, but the two barely knew each other then. Three years after high school graduation, as Hickman began his senior year at Portland State University, he connected with Daniel, a PSU freshman, who messaged him about music.

“My first impression of Adam was that he seemed older than he was,” says Hickman, who spent his college years composing and producing rap music under the name Jahosh. “There was a determination, or a focus, that resonated with me. It probably goes back to track and field at Benson. We would work out six days a week. It really instilled me with this work ethic and discipline. So when I met Adam, I was just like, ‘Man this is dope. He’s just like me.’”

I was screaming to the moon, ‘Check out Aminé! He’s doing the thing! Are you guys paying attention?’

Daniel loaned Hickman money to buy a microphone and portable vocal booth, and they began writing and recording on a relentless schedule. “He would come over in the morning and he wouldn’t leave till night,” Hickman says. “But it didn’t even feel like work.” Daniel would give Hickman input on the beats; Hickman says he helped with song concepts and even lyrics. Together they created the first DIY Aminé release, a mixtape called Genuine Thoughts.

With help from PSU music students whom the charismatic Daniel had recruited along the way—including multi-instrumentalist Irvin Mejia, who would go on to produce “Caroline” and other songs on Aminé’s major-label debut—Hickman went on to produce the bulk of Odyssey to Mein his windowless recording studio in East Portland in late 2013. The album’s songs run from vulnerable, confessional slow-burners (“My Emotions”) to explicit sex jams (“Feelin’ Like”). It’s ambitious both sonically and conceptually: The cover art adapts the poster from Richard Ayoade’s 2010 cult film Submarine, about a small-town 15-year-old named Oliver looking to lose his virginity. The album echoes the film’s plot in places, and references its protagonist throughout.

By Odyssey to Me’s 2014 release, Aminé had picked up a few key supporters in Portland, including Fahiym Acuay, an MC and writer (under the name Mac Smiff) for the popular regional hip-hop blog We Out Here. Meeting Aminé for a video interview, Acuay remembers a funny, slightly shy kid who seemed unusually driven. “He knew that he was a little bit different,” Acuay says. “He had a really different sound—kind of playful—but he also had these really deep melodies.” Acuay became an evangelist for the young artist: “I was screaming to the moon, ‘Check out Aminé! He’s doing the thing! Are you guys paying attention?’”

IMAGE: COURTESY MARCUS HYDE AND REPUBLIC RECORDS

While local acts like U-Krew, Five Fingers of Funk, Lifesavas, and Cool Nutz have made some waves, Portland has never spawned a true national hip-hop star. Instead, we have a closed rap ecosystem with its own set of references, stylistic tendencies, and small-town kingpins. Portland rap artists tend to be judged more on their lyricism and verbal ability than on their melodic instincts or pop savvy. And on those fronts, Acuay notes, Aminé is no match for local mainstays like Illmaculate and Rasheed Jamal—battle-tested MCs with dense, intricate rhyme delivery. In fact, if Aminé had emerged a decade earlier, there’s a good chance he’d figure in the Portland hip-hop story as an eccentric side character, selling mixtapes out of his trunk at rap shows. But Aminé was born in a new era, where the home-burned CD has been replaced by lightly curated “mixtape” download websites that connect artists directly to a national audience, with no middleman and no local-cred hurdles to clear.

And Daniel knew how to work that system. He spent $1,000 of his student loan money to secure Odyssey to Me a spot in the featured albums section of Datpiff.com, a popular hip-hop mixtape-sharing blog that has served as a bellwether for artists like Drake and Chance the Rapper. By the end of summer 2014, Odyssey had reached 20,000 downloads. Daniel and Hickman found a promoter to take a punt on them—Ibeth Hernandez, who offered them a show at Peter’s Room in the Roseland, opening for critically acclaimed California hip-hop trio Pac Div. “It was so sweet,” Hernandez remembers of Daniel and Hickman. “They got me a thank-you card afterward, and it had, like, a Starbucks gift card inside.”

But the biggest payoffs came from shows Aminé and Jahosh booked for themselves. A few days after Christmas 2013, they threw a show marking Odyssey’s imminent release, hit social media hard, and drew 250. A party the next year drew 400, among them Blazers star Damian Lillard. His presence alone hinted that Daniel and Hickman had sidestepped most Portland hip-hop rites of passage. Not everybody would be happy about it.

But Daniel was making connections outside of Portland, too. In summer 2014, after landing internships with Complex magazine and Def Jam Records, he connected with a young, unestablished New York City manager named Justin Lehmann. To Hickman, something about the new arrangement set off alarm bells.

“I was with Adam from day one,” he says, “thinking, his success is my success and my success is his success.” Though he won’t dive into specifics—and allows for miscommunications—Hickman says he decided to get his handshake deal with Daniel into writing. Daniel refused. Hickman “got even more weirded out.” The partnership slowly unraveled, taking the pair’s friendship with it, and Hickman would later pull Aminé’s first album and the subsequent En Vogue EP from the internet, asking social media outlets and blogs to do the same. “It was my assumption that he would have most likely taken the music down himself, had I not,” says Hickman.

He was building this full package for himself. He didn’t just focus on Portland.

Aminé’s second full-length album—the excellent, world-music-inspired collection Calling Brio—proved that he was capable of making great music without Hickman. That too has been scrubbed from the web post-“Caroline,” along with videos and articles from 2014 and 2015, as has become standard practice for many indie artists who take on a major-label rebrand. Around the same time, Daniel texted Acuay to ask him to remove all the pieces We Out Here had written about Aminé from the site. Acuay reluctantly agreed. Later, when he saw a national piece on Aminé billed as “the first interview” with the young artist behind “Caroline,” Acuay admits, “I was kind of salty for a second. I had the first interview.”

Two years after Josh Hickman and Adam Daniel parted ways, Aminé struck gold with “Caroline.” The single and video led to a deal with Republic Records, a Universal subsidiary home to artists from Ariana Grande to Black Sabbath. While Daniel moved to Los Angeles in 2016, his official label bio still begins with “Now, Portland isn’t traditionally referred to as a hotbed of hip-hop like Brooklyn or Compton is, but Aminé could very well change that perception.”

For a moment, it appeared that Aminé might force the issue. In November 2016 on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show, Aminé performed a striking and minimal version of “Caroline” with a string section. At the end of the performance, the yellow stage lights switched to red, white, and blue, and he delivered a message to the incoming president elected just days before. “You can never make America great again / All you ever did was make this country hate again.” It was a bold choice, one the Times and other outlets focused on. But Portland music fans noticed something else: two vocalists backing up Aminé were established players in the Portland scene, earthy R&B artist Blossom and inventive MC the Last Artful, Dodgr.

Acuay was watching that night. “It was so very Aminé. ‘I’m not going to do what everyone expects me to do.’ I was really proud of him. I remember thinking, he’s making us look good. He’s really holding it down for Portland right now.”

Publicly, “Go Aminé” is the party line in the Portland hip-hop scene, as well. But there is grumbling behind closed doors. A handful of artists and music scene staples contacted for this story declined to be interviewed about Aminé, or did not respond to requests. One artist formerly associated with Aminé indicated a reluctance to be seen as a hanger-on. A polite decline came from Nikolaus Popp, the prolific Portland director credited as the cinematographer and editor behind the “Caroline” video. Popp sent a somewhat cryptic statement: “Respect is everything in this world and that really goes for any human being. People will try to minimize you, but you always have to know your worth. Money doesn’t pay for respect, no matter the amount. It’s about how you treat people.”

In his first big national profile in the New York Times, Daniel used the phrase “super depressing” to describe his path through the Portland music scene, which the article’s author further characterized as “dead.” Aminé’s lyrical take on Portland has been bittersweet since his earliest songs. And on Good for You, he raps about coming home to find kids who bullied him calling him a hero. In the song “Turf,” he details the city’s gentrification in a mournful chorus: “I look around and I see nothing in my neighborhood / Not satisfied, don’t think I’ll ever wanna stay for good.” Another lyric speaks to those mixed emotions with even more clarity, and perhaps provides an explanation for the artist’s systematic eradication of the old Aminé: “I used to have dreams / Now I dream.”

I asked Vursatyl, one-third of the Portland crew Lifesavas—they released their debut, Spirit in Stone in 2003—if his group experienced a Portland backlash when they surfaced on the national radar. “The difference is we were really trudging it out in the local scene for a long time,” he says. “There were a lot of us trying hard to make it. Some of it was friendly competition, and some wasn’t. But everybody wanted to be the guy to put the city on the map.”

That city—before the gentrification of its North and Northeast quadrants—was a place where the black community was still somewhat centralized, and Aminé’s family home, off NE MLK and Dekum, sat at its heart. “There’s less of a sense of community now,” Vursatyl says. “And I think that, in the long term, Aminé would have benefited from what was the black community still being fully intact. He’s had an awesome journey and he’s doing great, but I feel like there’s a disconnect in terms of local pride in him. And you want that groundswell. You want to play to your base.”

But for Hernandez—who also booked Aminé’s first South by Southwest performance (“The whole showcase fell apart. It was a disaster, actually.”)—the fact that Aminé’s dreams were bigger than his hometown is exactly what made him stand out. “He didn’t make the rounds like other artists, but that’s OK,” she says. “He was building this full package for himself. He didn’t just focus on Portland. A lot of artists put themselves in a box, and that’s cool, but at some point you have to expand. I saw him expand at such an early point, and he’s still expanding.”

Where Aminé is expanding to is an open question. In interviews, he’s low-key and likable—the right mix of confident, humble, and self-deprecating. Critics praised Good for You as “honest” and “carefree.” Its impressive breadth spans from the floaty Frank Ocean-esque Auto-Tune ballad “Hero” to a curious diss track laid out over progressive, minimal electronic music, “STFU.” If anything, the album seems built—albeit on a solid pop-rap foundation—as a showcase for Aminé’s versatility in both sonic approach and personality. He’s a sensitive, brutally honest outcast on the molasses-slow “Sunday,” and a bitter ex-boyfriend on “Wedding Crashers.” Album closer “Beach Boy” spells out the MC’s thoughts on his own mutability: “Who knows what the future holds / I don’t, if the truth be told / They say play it safe, young soul / Fuck that, I’mma take control.”

Two years ago, taking control meant parting ways with Josh Hickman, now studying software development in Los Angeles and making music as a hobby. When he won an $18,000 scholarship for making a tutorial video about sampling, Hickman used a song he built for Aminé as the video’s source material. “I took it as a message from the universe or God that, hey, I got what I needed out of that situation,” he says. He hasn’t spoken to Daniel in years, he says, but he’s not bitter about the experience. “We had all these doubts,” he remembers. “We’d be in the studio just talking, saying, ‘Man, are we crazy?’ And it’s dope to see those doubts were unfounded.”

In October, Aminé posted a new video to YouTube, this time for his playful song “Spice Girl.” It hit one million views in three days. The video features a cameo from a childhood hero, from the first concert he ever attended: the Spice Girls’ Mel B. Like every artifact of Aminé’s newly rebooted career, the video is colorful, cinematic, and dreamlike.

The video also makes obvious what should have been clear all along: Aminé never had Portland dreams. He saw himself, a first-generation American-born citizen living in an unlikely corner of the country, playing Madison Square Garden. He saw himself in the company of stars.

Something familiar about the particular inflection Daniel gave the titular “Caroline” suggests she’s the same character André 3000 sang about 15 years ago, on Outkast’s smash-hit “Roses.” In Aminé’s later song “Veggies,” from his 2017 so-called “debut” album Good for You, he refers to himself as “André’s prodigy.” These tributes to the eccentric vocal genius and fashion icon who got every wedding party in America dancing to “Hey Ya” are rare signposts from an artist who seemed, to most fans, to “come out of nowhere.”

Just one year after he uploaded the “Caroline” video to YouTube, Daniel posted a street-corner selfie to Instagram. On the left, wide-eyed with his mouth forming a stunned “ooh,” is Aminé. On the right, Outkast’s André 3000.

Adam Daniel used to have dreams—now he dreams. And his most compelling characteristic seems to be that he’s living out his fantasies in the public sphere. But dreams, by their nature, are not collaborative. They are personal. One dream lived is always another deferred. It’s been clear from the moment “Caroline” hit YouTube that the skinny, gap-toothed kid in the front was going to stay there. It’s still anybody’s guess whom he’ll take with him.

[talhaghafoor2019-blog]

Bryan Ferry on how Roxy Music invented a new kind of pop: 'We were game for anything'

More than 45 years ago, a new group released their first album. They didn’t wear denim, nor had they, apparently, paid their dues. Indeed, their heavily stylised presentation – a model posed archly on the cover in a 1950s pastiche, the musicians inside clad in leopardskin and leather with styled quiffs – could not have been more opposed to the rock modes of the day. “Is this a recording session or a cocktail party?” inquired Ferry’s friend Simon Puxley in the liner notes. Before you even got to the music, the record cover was a gauntlet thrown down – an explosion of glamour in a wasteland of faded blue cotton.

“The clothes we were wearing at that time would have put off quite a large chunk of people,” reflects Bryan Ferry. “What I liked about the American bands, the Stax label and Motown, they were into presentation and show business, mohair suits, quite slick. And the cover art, I thought of all the American pop culture icons, Marilyn Monroe: selling cigarettes or beer with a glamorous image. But it was a bit off-kilter as well; there was something a bit strange about it, futuristic as well as retro. All that, instead of a picture of the band, in a dreary street, looking rather sullen. Which was the norm.”

Timeline

Bryan Ferry: his career highlights

1971

Roxy Music form

Bryan Ferry was working as a ceramics teacher in a girls' school after leaving art school in Newcastle, having already played with Roxy bassist Graham Simpson in the band the Gas Board. They began amassing band members, including Brian Eno, eventually recruiting the final piece of the Roxy puzzle, guitarist Phil Manzanera.

1973

For Your Pleasure

Roxy Music's self-titled debut was a hit, as was this second album, which reached No 4 in the UK. It would be the last album with Eno, and features some of Ferry's most evocative performances, from the debonair strut of Do the Strand to the creepy In Every Dream Home a Heartache.

1974

Love is the Drug

Love is the Drug, from the Country Life album, is perhaps the most enduring Roxy hit – an irrepressible disco stomp, with Ferry peacocking through it with a magnificent staccato delivery. It was the band's only US hit, and reached no 2 in the UK.

1976

Let's Stick Together

During a two-year Roxy hiatus, Ferry released a pair of solo albums, with the title track from Let's Stick Together hitting the top five. It's a cover of the blues song by Wilbert Harrison, and Ferry has proven adept at covers down the years – his debut solo album in 1973 featured versions of everything from Piece of My Heart to Sympathy for the Devil, while Roxy Music's cover of John Lennon's Jealous Guy became the band's only No 1 single.

1982

Avalon

The final Roxy Music album was a long way from the fiendishly psychedelic art pop of their first records – it helped define the slick sound of 80s soft rock with tracks such as More Than This. It was released a month before his wedding to Lucy Helmore, a marriage that lasted until 2003.

1990

Fourth son Merlin born

Ferry has four sons: Otis, Isaac, Tara and Merlin. The latter survived a terrible car crash in 2014, while Otis became infamous for his support of fox hunting.

2001

Roxy Music reform

Roxy Music reformed for their 30th anniversary, and went on to tour in 2005, 2010 and 2011. Ferry continued to release solo work, including more cover versions – an album of jazz standards, As Time Goes By, was followed by an album of Dylan songs, Dylanesque.

2010

Olympia

After teasing new Roxy Music tracks for a number of years, including sessions with Eno, Ferry released the songs on his solo album Olympia, which also features Nile Rodgers, David Gilmour, Johnny Greenwood and Flea – plus Kate Moss on the cover.

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The music inside lived up to the cover’s challenge: a collage of pop-culture nostalgia, hard-rock guitar, piano-driven melodies, stylised high vocals, strange musical structures and experimental sound pictures. Roxy Music’s eponymous album sounded like nothing else in 1971 and 1972 – and like nothing else the group would ever attempt again. Recorded in the first full flush of inspiration, songs such as Ladytron, The Bob (Medley), and Sea Breezes exist outside of their time: a radical synthesis that mapped the future at the same time as it plundered the past.

Watch Roxy Music performing Ladytron on The Old Grey Whistle Test in 1972

“We were definitely trying to show our versatility,” says Ferry now. “I had lots of musical influences, plus what the band brought to the table.” Lead guitarist Phil Manzanera, he says, “had this Latin heritage, being born in South America”. Saxophone and oboe player Andy Mackay was classically trained. “[Brian] Eno with his deep interest in experimental music. They were specialists in their field. Paul Thompson brought a lot, with his very powerful, earthy drumming, which was one of the features of the Velvet Underground.”

The cover of Roxy Music immediately marked it out from the rest of 1972’s fare

Ferry is talking in his west-London studio. We walk past repeated Warhol Marilyns and sit under a large print of Jerry Hall on the north coast of Anglesey, the cover for Roxy Music’s fifth album, Siren. Wearing a blue jacket, V-neck pullover and tie, Ferry is measured, at once diffident and supremely assured. At 72, he looks great. “The only bit I don’t like is analysing it,” he says of his work. “I do sometimes envy the people who don’t ever have to describe what they’re doing.”

Despite its age and apparent familiarity, Roxy Music’s debut remains thrillingly strange. A new reissue, eight years in the making, traces the development of this revolutionary record that seemingly arrived out of nowhere in June 1972. Combined with the group’s first, 1971 demos, three 1972 John Peel sessions and album outtakes, the songs that would populate Roxy Music come into focus as the bold, honed culmination of lifelong fixations.

Growing up in Washington, County Durham during the monochrome 1950s, Ferry found a lifeline and an inspiration: “I loved American music,” he says. ““From the age of about 10, every week you’d discover somebody new. I was very much into jazz. You know how English people are; there’s a certain amount of musical snobbery. I mean, I loved Little Richard and Fats Domino, but when I heard Charlie Parker for the first time, this was something I really loved, and nobody else who I knew knew anything about him. It’s good to have your private obsessions.”

Roxy Music photographed at London’s Royal College of Art, July 1972 (from left): Phil Manzanera, Bryan Ferry, Andy Mackay, Brian Eno, Rik Kenton and Paul Thompson. Photograph: Brian Cooke/Redferns

As a paperboy delivering newspapers and weekly music magazines, Ferry read about more music than he could actually hear. “There wasn’t a great deal of jazz on radio. Radio Luxembourg was very important for emerging pop and soul. The BBC had one or two programmes. When the skiffle thing happened, that was when you started hearing Leadbelly and Big Bill Broonzy. That intensity of feeling; that’s what I got, hearing Leadbelly with a 12-string guitar, that yearning in his voice, it struck such a magical chord in me.”

He had similar revelations from hearing Lotte Lenya singing the songs of her husband Kurt Weill and the German soprano Elizabeth Schwarzkopf singing Richard Strauss’s Four Last Songs, He loved the beat poets, TS Eliot and American show tunes. “I liked Fred Astaire, Cole Porter, and I’d hear those songs played by Charlie Parker, Lester Young, Billie Holiday. There was a music store in Newcastle where you could go into a booth and listen to stuff. I lived in there.”

While in the sixth form at Washington Grammar, Ferry joined a group called the Banshees, who played R&B in the local clubs – including the famous Club A Go Go that had provided the launch pad for the Animals. In autumn 1964, he entered the fine art department of Newcastle University, where he was inspired by the British pop-artist Richard Hamilton and Warhol associate Mark Lancaster. After completing his degree, Ferry moved to London, where he supported himself by teaching art and ceramics at a Hammersmith school.

Roxy Music began in the late 1960s, after this move to the capital. Having sung R&B and soul with groups such as the Gas Board and the City Blues, he began to pursue the idea of striking out on his own. “In my college band, I had been imitating whichever song I was singing. We used to do quite obscure covers – Bobby Bland, BB King – but by the time I was writing my own songs, I didn’t want to sound too American. At the time, most English bands tried to sound American. Except for people like King Crimson. They had an English voice, which was quite interesting.”

He was convinced that he could start his own band. “First of all, [it was] just me and Graham [Simpson], the bass player. He had been in my college band. He was a very cool guy, into the beat poets, had a huge jazz collection, all those Blue Note records. He was one of the most interesting people in the band, actually. Sardonic sense of humour. Then Mackay, next, then Eno.”

Another early shot of Roxy Music from 1972. Photograph: Brian Moody/Rex Features

Each new addition brought an element that enabled the new group’s individuality. “The oboe was Andy Mackay’s first instrument, his main thing, although he developed into a great sax player. I met Andy because he had a synthesiser. So Andy brought a) the synthesiser and b) the oboe. Eno, of course, manipulated the synth in the band as soon as he joined, really. Those textures: the oboe is very precise, and the synth sounds were washes, colours, textures, mood enhancers, and so on. So, yes, it was a key part of the sound.”

Together with first guitarist Roger Bunn and drummer Dexter Lloyd, Roxy Music recorded their first demos in May 1971, early versions of The Bob (Medley), Grey Lagoons, 2HB, Chance Meeting and Ladytron. “They were all done in Eno’s flat in Camberwell, which is where we ended up doing a lot of rehearsals. There was a derelict house off Portobello Road where we went as well. That’s when it started. I thought of nothing else, I was quite driven to make it all happen. I would carry the tape around to record labels on my days off from teaching.”

A key early supporter was Richard Williams, who featured the group in Melody Maker during august 1971 before they had any whiff of record company interest. Williams had written glowing and informed reviews of, among other things, the recently reissued first three Velvet Underground albums, which piqued Ferry’s attention. “I always seemed to agree with his taste. So I thought, if anyone is going to like my music, it’s going to be this guy, so I sent him the tape. And he phoned me the same day to say how much he liked it.”

Slowly Roxy Music came into their time. With their Velvet Underground influence, they were tapping into similar sources to David Bowie. But the connections went deeper, into the Warholian fusion of pop and art – an approach prompted by Ferry’s friendship with Lancaster, who had worked in the Factory as a screen-printer in the mid-60s. “He was a really influential guy for me. He was the link between us and Richard Hamilton. All of those people were very influential, working with pop imagery.”

Ferry in 1973. Photograph: Ian Dickson / Rex Features

It was Roxy Music’s explicit intention to dissolve the boundaries between high and low. As Michael Bracewell writes in Re-make/Re-model, his account of the group’s founding years, “they chose to inhabit the point where fine art and the avant garde met the vivacity of pop and fashion as an almost elemental force in modern society”.

Produced by King Crimson lyricist Pete Sinfield, Roxy Music came together over two weeks in March 1972. The range of material is extraordinary: almost every song contains sudden twists and turns, like the galloping Joe Meek-style descent that comes out of nowhere in Ladytron. The opener, Re-Make/Re-Model, begins in party noises and breaks into brief, emblematic solos from each instrument. In Sea Breezes, synthesiser washes introduce a heartfelt torch song, which then segues into a strangulated guitar part: next up is the cocktail doo-wop of the tart album closer Bitters End.

“A lot of the first album is first or second take,” Ferry remembers. “Thinking about the songs, some of them are collage-like, with different sounds and moods within them – they will change abruptly into something else. For instance, Sea Breezes is a slow song, and suddenly moves into this angular, quite opposite mood. I found that interesting, and this band was perfect for that; they were game for anything. We were constantly fiddling around, changing things. I was still trying to find my voice. I [now] think sometimes I’m singing too high, or I should have had another go at that.”

It would have been easy to write Roxy Music off as pastiche – as a few die-hard hippies did at the time – but the feeling is authentic: the love, loss and regret in songs such as If There is Something, Sea Breezes and The Bob (Medley). It’s an album of chance encounters and wistful, evasive memories. “On one hand, you try to shape the emotion, but you’ve got to feel it,” says Ferry, “you don’t analyse as you’re doing it.”

Released in the same week as Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, Roxy Music entered the UK album charts in late July 1972. Within a month, the group’s first single, Virginia Plain, which wasn’t on the album, was on its way to the Top 10 (it reached No 4). Referencing an art college painting by Ferry, it distilled Roxy’s art-pop manifesto, “what’s real and what’s make-believe”. “It is much more confident,” Ferry says. “We’d made an album and we knew how to do it – sort of. Everyone was featured. It had oboe, the synth, the drums are powerful, and the lyrics were much more assured. I was still finding my feet as a songwriter.”

Roxy Music: 10 of the best

Roxy Music had no sense that the album would reach a mainstream audience. “We thought art students; people like us; limited interest; underground. Coming overground was … interesting.” When did he realised Roxy Music were really taking off? “I suppose when I heard Virginia Plain on midday radio. When the record came out, we were still playing tiny places – driving up to Scarborough or somewhere to play in a club. Hearing Virginia Plain on daytime radio, that felt like … something. Or seeing this album filling the record store window in King’s Road, which is where we went to the manager’s HQ. That was quite moving for me. Walking past, at night, and they’d just filled the window, I couldn’t believe it. It was so great, seeing the image repeated.”

Like a Warhol, you mean? “Exactly, yeah.”

Roxy Music: 45th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition is out now on Universal (£130). A 2-CD version is also available (£20)

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“Look at me. Fact or fiction, what do you see?” – Danny Wood

Please put any prejudice aside before entering: Danny Wood is a Kid no longer.

For one thing, he’s matured; for another, his new solo album, Second Face, is a soulful mix of R&B, pop, and alternative-tinged tunes that any serious musician would be glad to claim as their own. But getting a proper hearing hasn’t been straightforward when your past pedigree includes having been part of that 80s phenomenon, New Kids On The Block; it’s been far more of a Stumbling Block.

Despite NKOTB’s achievements (listing-breaking live show attendance and sales; superstardom on a global scale), the ‘manufactured boy band’ image continues to linger around the former members, which is a source of frustration for the talented Wood. “I will never complain about the ride and what I learned from it, but musically it definitely wasn’t what I need to haveed to be doing,” he says of that time. “The backlash was unbelievable, because we were basically shoved down America’s throat. It truly is one thing when you cut a compromise, but it’s different when you’re forced to do things that you know are just not cool, and not what you really want to do.”

“There wasn’t any blueprint” for putting together super-groups like there is now, Wood adds. “We definitely opened doors. When we were coming up, you couldn’t find any white kids who could sing and dance like that; it was unheard of.” They came by that crossover flavor organically: “Me, Donny, Jordan and Jon all started school when busing began in Boston, and we were bused to all-black schools throughout high school. I was in the minority at school, and you had to be street, you had to be smart, get along with everyone and be likable, or you were going to be in a world of misery.”

And it also helps to think of being in NKOTB as the world’s highest-paid internship. “I learned all the basics for what I do now. I dove into learning the whole recording process – producing, writing, engineering – from day one. ‘What does this button do? What does that button do?’…It was the ultimate learning experience.”

Wood had more lessons in store before he could release this album, including the loss of his mother and an ultimately successful custody suit for his son. He began recording in 2000 with producer Pete Masitti (whose credits include the latest single by Hootie and the Blowfish and the new Julio Iglesias, Jr. album). Inspiration, songwriting and actually capturing the work all ran smoothly – but then Wood located his past blocking his future.

“I had been recording steadily since 2001,” he recalls, “but it was really hard to get someone to believe in it. Everyone loved the record; all along, I never got any negative feedback from major people in the business. But no one wanted to take that step and commit to me. Then Paul Klein (president and CEO of Empire Records) came along, in late September 2002. From note one of hearing the first bars of Home, he said, ‘I’ll put this out.'”

Another angel arrived in the form of Jimmy Ienner (Donnie’s brother and a legendary music figure in his own right, having worked with luminaries such as The Eagles and John Lennon). “We met several years ago, and he always remembered me,” Wood says. “I was nice to his kids. Once I started doing this record, we hooked up, and he started giving me really good criticism. He helped me make this record sound like it does. He told me, ‘I want to help you out, because you have the talent to make it; no other reason.’ He never asked for anything. He’s like my musical consigliere.”

“I don’t have to sell a million for this to be successful,” Wood sums up. “If I can make a living, then that’s all I care about.

“Any preconceived ideas, throw ’em out the window. Musically, my past doesn’t have anything to do with this record. Give it a chance. Listen to the first song, and if that doesn’t hit you, I don’t know what will.

“This record has never been about dollars; it’s about being heard, it’s about respect, and ultimately, it’s about showing people that there’s more to me than what they think.”

If you never give Danny Wood and Second Face that chance, you’ll never know what you’re missing. So what are you waiting for?

Here, track by track, is Wood’s own take on Second Face:

Home: “It’s the first song and a pretty emotional one; if this doesn’t affect you, then I don’t know what to say. When my mom passed away — losing someone is always difficult and everyone deals with it differently, but sometimes we wallow in the ‘what-if’ and we forget what was so amazing about that person. I went through a whole lot of that. This helps keep that memory strong, and helps keep her with me. I actually took a lot of positive things away from her passing.”

When The Lights Go Out: “It’s a song about interracial relationships. It hit me really close to home, because my son is racially mixed, and the whole thing I went through with the custody suit – it definitely pertained. This song was one hundred percent relevant.”

Suburbia: “This is a song about how the suburbs can seem so good but they tend to have the same problems there than in the city. You can’t judge a book by its cover! It’s a very powerful song.”

Broke Me Down: “It’s about bad relationships, and how a person can tear you down from the person you are and turn you into someone you’re not. And…I’d rather not be with you, than let that happen.”

Losing Myself: “That’s one of the only kind-of love songs on the album; it’s my message to my significant other.”

What If: “This is thee story of two people living on the street, and what they go through on a day-to-day basis.”

Goodbye: “That’s just about a relationship that didn’t work out, and you wished it had.”

Fall: “I don’t want to talk about what that’s about. That should be left up to people to interpret their own way. It’s definitely means different things to different people.”

Let It Go: “We tend to get caught up in our lives and let everything stress us out, and this is about how if we let those things go, life would be a lot more enjoyable.”

Get Away: “I think everyone can relate to this song, which is about dealing with the stress of everyday life. It can be anything, from someone raising their kids to working in a corporation. It’s just expressing that desire to get away from it all.”

Perfect: “People, when they first meet, sometimes look at each other and see everything they want in the other person. But then after time, it doesn’t turn out that way, and we have to learn that we’re not all perfect. And it also pertains to friendships; you have to learn how to accept people with their faults if you’re ever going to have relationships, whether it be friends or intimacy.”

Molly: “This is about someone I actually knew growing up and she ended up a stripper/prostitute. She was a beautiful girl. It was tough seeing someone grow up and have to have that kind of life.”

Wannabeme?: “I was sitting down one day thinking about past relationships; before the group and then being in the group, and how a lot of times I was pressured into having serious relationships that I didn’t want. So I lumped all those scenarios together in that song, which is something I think most people can relate to – even females going to meet the boyfriend’s parents, and all that – always being judged.”

Second Face: “I wrote this before my mom passed away, and while I was going through the custody suit. It was the first song I wrote for this record. When I moved down to Florida, I found out who all my friends were. People, man – it’s such a clichĂ©, but when you’re on top, everyone loves you. And when you ain’t on TV no more, or doing favors for them, or living around the corner where they can come and ask for money, people forget about you in the snap of a finger. That’s what this song is all about. And it’s true.”

Where You Are: “Trying to find that middle ground, trying to come together and work out all the difficulties in a relationship.”

Now: “When a relationship is on the brink: do we walk away? Do we stay together? When things are either going to be over, or someone’s going to have to bend somewhere.”

My Way: “For me, kind of my message to whoever is going to hear this. A lot of this record also came out of the frustration of past groups I’d worked with, or companies I worked for, or situations I was in – always helping people out and doing favors, and never getting anything out of it. This kind of says, ‘I’m not going to do that any more.’ I was producing groups and they were getting deals off my demos and then cutting me out of the album itself. It was not pleasant.”

You’re Not Alone: “That’s to my kids, for when I’m away. I always tell them you can put that on and listen to it and I’ll be right there with them.”

Name Danny Wood Height 5' 8 Naionality USA Date of Birth 14 May 1969 Place of Birth Boston, Massachusetts, USA Famous for

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