Bring your love for music to life with this modern, inspiring and cool graphic print. This design is perfect for young people, DJs, and music fans alike. Whether you're looking to add some personality to your bedroom, garment or office, this print is sure to make a statement. Hang it on your wall and let the rhythm of the music fill your space!
🎉With our minimalist digital poster of John Lennon, you may explore the rich, emotional core of one of music's most cherished figures. This fine print, created in a modern, creative manner, embodies the essence and heritage of the renowned singer through the use of dark, captivating hues.🎉
Our new print imagines if Hemingway, Gertrude Stein and F. Scott Fitzgerald had formed a jazz trio - oh what a mournfully joyful noise they would have made *hic*! Get your copy from our website now. . . #ernesthemingway #gertrudestein #fscottfitzgerald #igreads #jazzposter #jazzart #artposter #artprint #artcollector #hemingway #spoof #satire #musicposter #musicprint #musicart #jazzlover #thelostgeneration #albumart #homedecorinspiration #walldecor #homedecor #recordcollector https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn2RVg6Iw0P/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Online Store Open Again! InRock: Hand Made Classic Album Poster Prints. After 6 months off we're back in time for Record Store Day! Shop link in bio / www.etsy.com/Shop/InRock #recordstoreday2019 #recordstoreday #melbournemusic #musiclovers #seattlemusicscene #bayareamusic #australianrockmusic #classicrocklover #hardrockfans #musicprints #vancouvermusic #portlandmusicscene (at Elwood, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BwGd8PIlLzz/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1h33by3rd9i2j
WHILE UNSURPRISINGLY DRUNK AT THE HYATT HOUSE (NOW CALLED THE “RIOT HOUSE” BY THOSE HIP TO THE ROCK SCENE), PERIDOT’S FRONTMAN LEAF CIMARRON DECLINED AN INTERVIEW WITH ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE AND HE HAD THIS TO SAY ABOUT IT:
“the rolling stone is a contrived crock of shit. no, i don’t think i’ll do it. i’ll ball that red-head though.”
the now ‘surprisingly sober’ frontman couldn’t remember saying any of that and to refresh his memory, the band’s guitarist (who happened to be there that night and not nearly half as drunk) corrected the offending comment:
“it was actually ‘horse shit’ that you said, making it ‘a contrived crock of horse shit’. why d’you think they had to leave the horse part out?”
...in any case, what ever it was that he stupidly slurred that night wasn’t entirely true: leaf did have a thing for red-headed women but more often than not, he actually enjoyed interviews. he likened them to mundane little games and to satisfy his natural chaos-seeking disposition, tried to see what fun could be made of them. the more ‘contrived’ the better. he liked chatting with the more up-tight types, trying to ‘really get inside’ and penetrate the thick layer of brylcreem that blocked their creative brain receptors and rendered all thoughts right wing. if he couldn’t move them mentally he’d try physically, whether they’d simply crack a smile or get up from their seat.
but word got around faster than he did and once his was published in the columns, that was it. everyone saw it and just like little sheep, everyone began talking. by the time the news got back to him, attached with it was the knowing that a certain red-haired journalist had heard about what he said and wasn’t all too happy about it. whether that was true or not, leaf (the sober surprise! edition) worried about his tarnished reputation, the idea of publicly painting her with profanity and asked her out for a proper apology over dinner. he didn’t expect her to say yes. he also didn’t expect her to choose the buffet.
it was one for the history books: for the first time probably ever he wasn’t late. he made a point to get to the restaurant before she did just so he could pull out her chair for her. he was trying, alright—despite his lack of fancy dress, wearing his usual denim outfit and leather boots that had him sticking out like a sore blue-jean thumb among the wealthier-looking lot in their fancy pant suits—trying to suppress the creeping desire for another half cigarette and the urge to sneak outside and indulge in both it and the joint he had tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket, he waited for her. to occupy his itching fingers, he settled for drumming them over his lap. to occupy his wandering mind, his wandering eyes stared at a large aquarium holding five or six big, fat, juicy lobsters. he could have sworn the one winked at him and he wasn’t even high yet.
@musicprinted
@musicprinted asked: ❝ could you play with my hair? ❞
freddie laughed at the question-- of course he would! it’d been awhile since he had cut his own hair, and everyone else around him had short hair (save for brian-- who wouldn’t let freddie touch his hair with a five foot pole). so, he shifted on the couch to sit sideways, and immedietly started to try and braid little bits of her hair, with every intention of just braiding them, un braiding, and braiding again.
“ my sister used to let me do this sometimes, ” mostly when they were younger. he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but it was nice to just provide that comfort for someone. he loved messing with his own hair when it was longer, just experimenting with the different things he could do-- but it was way better when someone else did it. and he loved to do that to someone else.
“ i’m not the greatest stylist, but i can do a bloody nice french braid. ”
Better late than never! Been the biggest sloth so far in 2019 - I'm just constantly tired and sloth like. After the most chilled weekend ever though I'm feeling inspired and ready to get going with new prints and just life in general really! #etsyseller #etsylocal #etsyglasgow #interiordesign #wallart #prints #graphicdesign #musicprints #myhome #design #decorationideas #inspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/BslVJNjjUC-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=14mbj9nv8x4f0
After a brief few shows in Canada, Queen embarked on the American portion of their tour, arriving in California near its end beginning at the Forum in Inglewood, holding a two-day residency filled with all the debauchery and lush wine, a band of their calibre could endure. The tour itself was for the album A Day At The Races, though at the rate of their next album, they most likely would be expected to return to the states by the end of the year. Unbeknownst to the band, by that next tour, all but Brian would cut their hair short to the dismay of many though the band would be moving in a new direction by that point though for the time being, they were still as glamorous as ever.
Following a raucous performance that brought the crowd to their feet at every turn, the band retired backstage for a freshening up and wardrobe change before the press were to return. Roger, already on his second glass of wine, adorned himself in a silken Japanese phoenix blazer over a loosely buttoned black shirt with white pinstripes tucked into fitted denim jeans, pink sequined converse shows and a necklace in the shape of a bird in flight being the accents on his overall colourful attire. He had been feeling rather sluggish but still rather content despite the exhaustion, ready for some attention from the ladies of the West Coast more than anything. Of course, his interest would soon shift when dread filled his system upon being instructed to give at least ONE interview before retiring to an afterparty, his large eyes rolling toward the back of his head in disgust. There was nothing he disliked more than the press and their wrongful drabbles of vomit they called columns.
He took his seat at the throne of a cushioned chair, knees relaxedly apart with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc in his hand, half-lidded gaze awaiting the mousiest little rodent he could imagine approaching him with the most obnoxious comments known to man. At least, that was who he presumed he would meet. Instead, the fair-haired drummer’s eyes soon settled on the crimson locks of hair belonging to the ravishing young woman who was heading his way. Now, that was someone worth being interviewed by, though Roger wouldn’t outright show his newfound interest in her, at least not yet. He chose to remain in his current position, very much glad to let her enjoy the view as his dazzling sapphire eyes fixated on her position, greeting her in a lower, more sultry version of his raspy voice. “So you must be the one who wanted to write me.” he batted his long lashes, only as a means of making her laugh before shifting to sit a bit more upright, extending his hand for a brisk shake. “Only teasing you. Name’s Roger, but I’m sure you already knew that. What’s yours?”