#my passion to write about kitty eddie

[melodymunson]

Get to know me

My name is Melody. I'm 33. I've been a Stranger Things since early 2017 and an Eddie Munson stan since May 2022. Writing requests for Steddie x reader, Steve x reader, Eddie x reader, Steve x Robin x reader are open! (Platonic Robin and Steve only.)

My former tumblr username was MelodyLangdon

About me: I’m a passionate concert-goer, a horror convention junkie, and a Halloween lover.

My favorite series are SAW, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, American Horror Story, Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street, Paradise City, South Of Nowhere, Rob Zombie’s Firefly family trilogy, and Hemlock Grove. I love thrillers and horror books and my favorite authors are Richard Laymon, Jack Ketchum, Megan Hart, Anne Rice, JRR Tolkien. My top favorite bands of all time are Type O’ Negative, Bullet For My Valentine, Otep, Manson, Rammstein, Motionless In White, Ice Nine Kills, Arch Enemy, Kittie, David Bowie, Motley Crue, Poison, Butcher Babies, Children Of Bodom, Apocalyptica, Raven Black, Straight Line Stitch, Depeche Mode, The Cure, and Ghost. Metal, punk rock, nu metal, thrash metal are my favorite music genres. The Soska Twins, Eli Roth, and Mary Harron are my favorite directors. My top favorite movies are American Mary, American Psycho, American Satan, 10 Things I Hate About You, Girl Next Door, Strangeland, Mistress Of The Dark. The coolest celebs I’ve met are Twiggy Ramirez, Tobin Bell, Manson, Otep, MIW, Butcher Babies, Elvira, Bill Moseley, Sid Haig, and Felissa Rose. My favorite actors are Keanu Reeves, Joseph Quinn, Joe Keery, Heath Ledger, Cody Fern, Bill Skarsgard, River Phoenix, Blake Lively, Megan Fox, Susan Sarandon, Amber Tamblyn, and Margot Robbie. 

I follow back any active Stranger Things blog/fan who interacts with me and is 18+. Ask box/inbox open to questions/asks. Minors, creeps, bots, and anyone who’s intolerant towards women, any racists, any anti- POC/WOC and anyone exclusive of any part of the LGBTQIA+ will be blocked no exceptions. Intolerant of intolerance and my blog is a safe space.

My favorite Stranger Things characters are Eddie Munson (obviously). Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, 001/Henry Creel/Vecna, Joyce Meyers, Dustin Henderson, and Argyle.

Favorite ships and couples of ST: Steddie, Chrissy/Eddie, and  Nancy/Eddie/Steve/Robin (the fruity four).

I write and take requests for Chrissy/Eddie/reader, Chrissy/Eddie, Eddie/reader, Steddie/reader, Steve/reader, Robin/reader/Steve (platonic Steve+Robin ONLY), Chrissy/reader, and Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie.

Works in progress/completed: My first Eddie/reader fic was rockstar Eddie x reader headcanons. I have also published 2 Steddie/reader holiday fics on ao3, an Eddie/Chrissy/reader oneshot, Stobin/fem!reader, and a cheerleader reader/Eddie 3 part series. My ao3 username is MelodyLangdon. My next fics to be published will be an Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie. Rockstar Eddie/fem reader fic series in progress.

18+ only and preferably 21+ following me/interacting + reading my fics. No exceptions.

My newest fics: 

Steve/fem!reader/Robin https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570095

Older rockstar Eddie x younger fem!reader https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570314/chapters/119891428

My profiles/socials: https://bento.me/melodymunsonharrington

Masterlist: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2020/03/fanfics-masterlist.html

Moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/moodboards-for-stranger-things-fics.html

More moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/cody-fern-character-moodboards-for-fics.html

[aaronymous999]

The Ultimate Spider-Man comics never cease to make me loose my shit in either a positive way or a negative way and there's no in between. It's like. Brian Micheal Bendis is always writing something. Just something. And I either LOVEEE it or I really fucking hate it with a passion and I cannot understand this man just by his writing because it's so fucking confusing. Like oh! Gwen rejecting an older guy hitting on her and negatively showing dudes who get pissed when girls reject them, good message! Then later. Gwen kisses Ganke. Even though she's like 17-18 and he's 14. Now I don't want to get into arguments with this post but that's just like weird because it's about the same age gap Gwen and Eddie had when he flirted with her and it's blatantly a double standard and perfectly represents all the weird mixed feelings I have about Brian Micheal Bendis' writing for Spider-Man. Sometimes it's GOOD. REALLY GOOD. And then sometimes it's blatantly awful! I think there's more good then bad here, although I think most of the bad is romance related in these stories because like. What the hell was Gwen x Peter and Peter x Kitty. Gwen and Peter in the Ultimate universe is weird to me because it's established they view each other as family in one issue and then they do a time skip and suddenly they're dating. Which is just. Weird. Not illegal or anything it's just a weird writing choice? Like it's just a bad idea to break up your main couple off screen and then pedal back on your writing before and suddenly have your main character date the girl that was established as not being a romantic love interest for him? It's just weird.

Peter and Kitty on the other hand isn't bad, it's just bad writing. Brian Micheal Bendis' pet character is Kitty Pryde, and she's cool and all and he can do whatever he wants it's his comics. It's just she's forced into the narrative and her being there and dating Peter actively makes Peter look like an awful person who cheated on his girlfriend, which is NEVER ADDRESSED. To clarify I don't have a problem with "problematic" characters or relationships, it just bugs me when the narrative ignores the negative aspects of something.

This is turning very rambly but what I mean is- Peter cheating on Kitty is fine as long as people actively call Peter out on his bullshit and tell him that was fucked up, but they don't. He doesn't get consequences for this shit. Or with Gwen, they can do that, but it should be acknowledged and they should explain how Gwen and Peter's feelings changed over the 6 months instead of getting them together, and then back pedaling on that choice too and saying that Gwen forced him into it or whatever. And when this stuff is addressed, it's usually a one off line with no actually lasting meaning or consequence. It just makes the characters feel horribly out of character and makes me hate them. Gwen kissing Ganke makes me grossed out because it makes her look like a hypocrite and a creep. She literally was in Ganke's position before and she rejected it rightfully because that's weird. But now she's in Eddie's position in a way and it makes her an actively worse character, so I just choose to ignore it in my brain because! I like Gwen!

Tdlr; Ultimate Spider-Man is good and if you want to get into the comics it's a good way to start just acknowledge that you may have a lot of beef with the writing choices, especially the romance related ones.

[taintedcigs]

congrats on 1k queen !!! u deserve it and more !!! <33

plz may i request 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍' 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍' bc i am maybe a hopeless romantic at heart n love this stuff lol

i’m a scorpio sun + rising and gemini moon, entp, love watching live music and play guitar + sing myself, obv enjoy writing hehe but also reading, and i’ve got an art degree + enjoy illustration! i’m pretty heavily tattooed and pierced n deffo took the phrase goth bimbo and ran with it LOL, but i’m way more approachable than i look i think ! i’m v easy going and laid back and pretty unserious (maybe toooo unserious) and get along with p much anyone, but also have pretty high walls. i’m a cat person, function better in the sunshine and love a frozen marg. ok that’s it that’s me hehe - i like all genders + stranger things plz !

also kisses for u MWAH <3

bb thank you SOOO MUCH!! of course u may!! i hope i do yours justice kitty <33

first of all. i'm going to be biased and say steve harrington! hear me out... i know a lot of ppl think guitar + piercings + tattoo combo screams eddie but to me you SCREAM STEVE! like you'd be the unapproachable hottie for steve bc HE'D BE SO INTIMIDATED BY U... but then when he finally packs up the courage to try to talk to you he realizes how cool and easygoing you are and GODD that boy is whipped!! he loves hearing about all of ur passions and once he hears about ur art degree you are dead bc he's begging u to draw him. he also loooves looooves u playing guitar, he's probably begging u to teach him too bc he's so fascinated by everything u do!! i think steve would be pretty chill once he got to know you and he would easily break down those high walls bc he makes u feel so safe and comfy <3 once he does he's so happy and so proud bc he loves u sm :( !!! i definitely see steve as more of a dog person, but he's a laid-back dog person, so HE LOVES THAT U R A CAT PERSON!! it's like the olive theory for him: one has to be a cat person and the other has to be a dog person.

bonus + i think you would get along rlly well with eddie as a friend, but like totally platonic friends, and AT first steve would be upset about it because he would think the two of u r dating and he wants to talk to u!!! but then once he talks to eddie abt it EDDIE encourages him so heavily bc he thinks the two of u would be cute together !! and then steve always gets tips from eddie onn how to impress u (the three musketeers !)

join my 1k celebration!

[thedramaclubs]

Zazz

Summery: shits going down after prom and if you’ve seen the musical/movie be prepared for a gay panic from Patton

Warning: does get a little heated with one of the ships, and of course homophobia in the beginning

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When singing

Janus-orange (tumblr doesn’t have yellow)

Patton-blue

Both- purple

A few days after prom and things are going crazy. On Monday after school the news went to James Madison high to interview the school and Mrs Greene about what happened. Mrs Greene was now being interviewed.

“I’ve been told to say something. The courts said that Patton would not be safe if we allows him to attend prom with the other students because the uncomfortable truth is there are some people in our community that are offended by his life choices. We thought this arrangement was the only course of action.”

Suddenly news reports ask so many questions

“Mrs Greene are you homophobic?” “Are you saying sexuality is a life choice?” Then she exclaimed “ This is uncomfortable for me! To be infront of a camera like this. To read horrible things about my town. And I am just a mother. I am not any kind of a spokes person and I love all the students at James Madison high as much as my own son.” She walks up to Logan who was watching his mom being interviewed. “We are in this situation because of a group of people, privilege people from New York!”

She sighed

“They are the villains. You should be writing about them not us.”

Back at Patton’s house he and Janus we’re watching the interview on his computer. Patton had been in his room for days hiding from it all. He wore his cat onesie that Logan got for him on their 1 year anniversary of being together. He wore it because he wanted to feel like Logan was giving him a hug and he wanted to feel like Logan was their with him.

“Ugh that women totally doesn’t make my skin crawl!”

“I can’t wrap my head around all this. This is a nightmare. I’ve never been so alone in my life.” Patton started to cry a little. Janus pulled him into a hug.

“Your not alone you have friends.”

“Yeah, well where are they?” At that moment, Remus, Thomas, Joan, and Roman came in.

“Hey, we brought Haagen dazs.”

“It’s fancy ice cream.” Thomas Said as he had the bag

“I know what Hagen dazs is hand it over.” Patton grabbed the bag out of Thomas’s hands and Remus sat on the bed next to Pat.

“Are you Okay?”

“I’m amazing, the whole world is talking, making it sound like I’m the one responsible for it but no one is talking the hate there’s just so much hate. There’s so much hate.........I’m gonna need more of this shit.” Patton got the ice cream open and started eating his cookies and cream. Remus then started talking.

“Listen I know you said you don’t want our help anymore but we can’t let them get away with this. That pta women who the hell does she think she is?! I want her to get run over by a bus!!!”

“She’s a monster that’s what!”

Remus inhaled to calm down “Joan what can we do?”

“I don’t know. She’s spun this whole thing herself to make her look like the victim she’s good if she didn’t shop at dress barn she could work in P.R.”

Roman was just standing in the corner but felt like he should say something and so he did.

“I know everybody’s angry but we have to face the facts. We made matters worse. So the best thing we can do is disinfect our things and go home.”

Everyone said at the same time “NO WE ARE NOT LEAVING!!”

“We are always not leaving!! Please I want to leave this horrible place”

“No we are staying here we gotta turn this thing around. We gotta take back the press!”

“But how darling?” Said Janus as he was still on the bed.

“Patton you gotta be the face of this story you gotta go on tv and show the real asshole is!”

“And that will give him a prom?”

“This isn’t about prom anymore. This is about right and wrong you know what you have to do this right.

“I don’t know what I know.” Patton continue eating the ice cream.

“We need a national audience....what about Jimmy Fallon?”

“I can’t just pop Jimmy Fallon out of my ass!!” Exclaimed Joan. “If we want an audience we gotta go big and to to go big we have to use that one call to Eddie Sharp!” Everyone was in agreement except for Roman “No I am not calling that basterd!!”

“Just ask for a favor!”

“If I ask him for something he will want something in return and what he will want is the hamptons house. He trying to get it for years. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY DISNEY AND BROADWAY CRUISES I HAD TO PAY FOR THAT HOUSE!!!!! I would rather pluck my eyes out and put them in a vacuum and call that even!”

“If that will work just pluck your eyes out then!! *sigh* Joan just get the boy on tv. I don’t care if it’s a cut on family guy just do your magic.”

“Aye aye.” Joan left to try and get Patton on TV

“This is great.” Patton then decide to say something

“No not great. I’m sorry but their is no way I’m getting in front of a camera and telling my story. I cannot do that just no. Just accept it we lost deal with it.” Patton went to a corner and stood with his arms cross. Then Thomas came up with and idea.

“Ya know there might be a better way to rid of this community by extension of nation of this cancer of intolerance!” Everyone was dead silent

Eventually Remus asked “Why are you still here? I thought you had a tour?”

“Indianapolis was canceled and so was everywhere else. But I’m thinking feature forth and seek out the younger people and rap in a non musical sense. And soon understanding could lead to, dare I say it......love.” Thomas left and now there was Roman, Remus, Janus and Patton.

Patton turned around to see their faces and Remus broke the silence again “Listen kitty cat, I know this is hard but if you don’t do something, they will.”

At that moment Janus got an idea. “Don’t worry he’s got stage fright. I’ll talk to the kid.” Roman had already walked out leaving Remus and Janus outside the door.

“Are you sure about this Jannie?” Janus put his hand on Remus’s check and kissed him.

“Of course darling.” Said Janus very seductively. Remus couldn’t help himself he had been touch starved so and picked up Janus and pinned him against the wall.

“Damn why are you so hot?!” Remus passionately kiss the smaller man as Janus put his hands on Remus’s face pulling him in closer. Sadly, it came to an end because their was a another short man waiting for Remus.

“REMUS CMON!!” Remus put his husband down and gave him one last kiss “See you tonight Jan.” Remus left leaving him and Patton alone.

“You two really love each other huh?”

“Yeah I love him so much. He may be an idiot sometimes but, he’s my idiot.” Patton laughed a little then got back on track.

“Now before you lecture me or....kick me to death with those crazy Anatlope legs.....or whatever it is your gonna do, I know I should do something. I just can’t.” Janus walked back to the bed.

“Look kid, not everyone gets a chance to step out of the chorus. You gotta do this for all the those people who used to be gypsies.”

“I’m too scared.” He hid in the cat hoodie and Janus got an idea.

“Let me tell you a story. 1975 and the original company of “Chicago” was in previews. Suddenly the worst outbreak in history hit the cast and their down to the third cover for Roxie Heart and he’s scared just like you.” Patton took the hood off of his head to listen to the rest of the story.

“So, fosse was a real ball buster puttin him through a pain an he’s petrified. Even worse he’s performing the routine like a robot. So the boss pulls him aside and says “hey kid, snap out of it. You got the steps, you got the notes, but where’s the Zazz baby.”And although he had never heard that word before he knew exactly what it meant and he crushed that performance. The audience screaming bloody murdur.”

“And that boy was you?” Janus gave him a blank stare

“Yes it was me how fucking old fo you think I am!? It was 1975. But the point is every fosse boy knows that story. All about finding your inner strength.”

When a challenge lies ahead and you are filled with dread and worry

Give it some zazz

If your courage dissapers what’ll get you fears to scurry

Give it some zazz

Zazz is style plus confidence, it may seem corny or kitsch

But when scared or on the fence you’ll find that zazz will soon make fear become your bitch

And if folks say you can’t win what’ll will stop them in a hurry

Janus layed on the bed and kicked his leg up high that gave Patton a gay panic

Give it some zazz

There’s no contest for a boy who has some razzmatazz

So call their bluff

And strut your stuff

Like no chick in this hick town has

Instead of giving up

Give it some zazz

“I just don’t think I can do it. The thought of getting in front of all those people look at my hands their shaking”

“If your hands are shaking....”

Just turn’m into jazz hands

“Doesn’t that feel better?”

“No”

“Try this. Close your eyes.” Patton stood up and closed his eyes

“Zazz doesn’t just come out, it comes from within. Now think about Mrs Greene.” Patton put his hand across his face.

“Think about that fake prom!” He took his other hand and did jazz hands.

“Now think of finally doing something about it!” Patton started doing moves and it filled him and Janus with joy.

“Oh I’m seeing it! I’m seeing your Zazz! Now follow me!”

Do like the brave and bossy do

And if they tear you apart

Ask what would Bob Fosse do?

He’d make the people have a step ball change of heart

Ball change!!!

And if folks say you can’t win what’ll stop them in a hurry

Give it some zazz!!

There’s no contest for a boys who has some razzmatazz

So call their bluff BAM!

And strut my stuff BAM!

Like no chick in this hick town has

Instead of giving up

Give it some zazz

Now that you’ve found your zazz it’s time to show it to the world. You think you know how?

YEAH!!

People to tag @artissi-jam @patt-off @frogsandcookies @icantthinkofacreativeurl @actingonimpulse @purplestarrystars

I’m back!!!!

[frankiefellinlove]

This is it! The whole article where John Landau writes that Bruce “is the future of rock n roll”. Long but so worth the read, to see that quote in context.

GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

The Real Paper

May 22, 1974📷

It's four in the morning and raining. I'm 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were diffferent a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys' and Beatles' songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" and "Anyone Who Had A Heart," the Drifters' "Up On the Roof," Jackie Ross' "Selfish One," the Marvellettes' "Too Many Fish in the Sea," and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' "Heat Wave." Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" and Otis Redding's "Respect," and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man" and later "Younger than Yesterday," still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll.

Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops' "Reach Out, I'll Be There," a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live.

During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. "Mystic Eyes" open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn't go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don't really care. I only know that, then, as now, I'm grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them.

The records were, of course, only part of it. In '65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them.

Realizing that I wasn't destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn't cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn't see myself as a critic -- the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows -- which weren't so easy to find because they weren't all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals' two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beatiful to look at, and confirmation that we -- and I -- existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the flory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," a record that stands just behind "Reach Out I'll Be There" as means of musical catharsis.

My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn't make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I've forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing "When Something's Wrong with My Baby" just the way they did it that night.

The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I'm a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify -- all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck -- a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young's After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey, James Taylor's records, Valerie Simpson's Exposed, Randy Newman's Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder's records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell -- but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can't think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record "The E Street Shuffle" -- but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, "For You," and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a "Telstar" guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his "Four Winds Blow," done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley's but "Rosalita" never sounded better and "Kitty's Back," one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal -- to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It's five o'clock now -- I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I'll chicken out -- and I'm listening to "Kitty's Back." I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me.

I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin' Spoonful once sang, "I'll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it's like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll." Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it -- just as long as I remember that I'm the stranger I'm writing for.

[itsallabouteveworld]

Entertainment Unleashes On Netflix With These Top Movies

Netflix is the most-watched video streaming application ruling the digital entertainment world. Best movies to watch on Netflix belong to various genres offering entertainment to people with varying tastes.

Best movies to watch on Netflix offer the ultimate entertainment dose. Some of these movies have been nominated in Oscars this year and won it too. The availability of various genres makes it an ultimate movie entertainment hub.

Home entertainment has reached new levels of excellence and fun with video streaming applications like Netflix. This streaming application has new additions of movies every month. Since Oscars have just happened and the world is grappled by the fever of top quality movies recognized at this event, Netflix has not left behind in giving space to these glittering gems. Some of the best movies to watch on Netflix that you can catch this month and save them for viewing later are:

a.      Marriage Story: A disheartening phase of divorce in the lives of an actor wife and her director husband is depicted in this film. The couple is shown to endure struggles of various kinds to bring the nuptial arrangement to an end. Various layers of human relationships are examined and presented beautifully in this film. It is certainly a must-watch movies to watch on Netflix if you are a drama movie buff.

b.      The Irishman: The movie is based on a book titled ‘I heard you paint houses’ by Charles Brandt. It has one of the timeless biggies of Hollywood such as Al Pacino and Robert De Niro in titular roles. De Niro plays the role of a truck driver by the name of Frank Sheeran and his journey from the humble job to that of dreaded hitman forms the main plot of this movie. The movie received 10 nominations in Oscars this year.

c.       Dolemite is My Name: It is a movie belonging to the biographical comedy genre. It is the story of Rudy Ray Moore a filmmaker who ventured into the field of blaxploitation films. Dolemite was the name of the character he played in his stand-up performances too. Eddie Murphy has played this role and it stood out in Golden Globe awards in Music and Comedy genre. This is one of the most honest works done by a film-maker and speaks unabashedly about stereotyping in movies.

d.      To all the boys I’ve loved before: High school love or teen romance is the genre of this movie.  A teenage girl writes letters addressed to boys she has crushed on. The letters get delivered to those crushes without her information, thanks to her sister Kitty. What follows is the interesting series of reactions the recipients show and how they use or abuse those letters in dealing with their life’s problems. This movie is hilarious as well as thought-provoking at some levels too.

e.      Zodiac: Going a little back from the last year’s releases, you can find gems like Zodiac on Netflix. It is a crime thriller movie based on the story of Zodiac killer who has remained uncaught till date. He terrorized San Francisco in 60’s and 70’s. The film is not a mystery solver but brings on celluloid the passion and struggle of three investigators who tried their best to lay hands on this morbid killer. This movie is going to keep you on toes because of its tight script and brilliant direction.

f.        El Camino: This movie was released last year and got many fans because of its exciting pace. It is a sequel to Breaking Bad. And starts from where this show ended. It depicts the journey of Jesse Pinkman is on run after breaking the law. The wit and stunts of the main character give this gem all the excellence one looks for on Netflix.

g.      Kabir Singh: This movie is the Hindi adaptation of Telugu film Arjun Reddy. The film shows college campus culture and also touches controversial topics like college romance and premarital sex. The movie displays the anger of a flawed character who could not handle the separation from beloved and gets swirled down in bad habits like drugs and alcohol. This is one of the exciting Netflix movies to watch India.

So, grab your tub of popcorn and binge-watch these movies all week. These movies are surely going to be your all-time favorites in the coming times.

[frankiefellinlove]

Jon Landau review of Bruce where he writes "...I've seen Rick n a Roll's future

The last few paragraphs gave me happy chills!

05.09.1974: Cambridge,MA

Opening for headliner Bonnie Raitt

Critic Jon Landau’s much-quoted “I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen” line emanates from this night:

From The Real Paper,May 22 1974 GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

It’s four in the morning and raining. I’m 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were different a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys’ and Beatles’ songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick’s “Walk On By” and “Anyone Who Had A Heart,” the Drifters’ “Up On the Roof,” Jackie Ross’ “Selfish One,” the Marvellettes’ “Too Many Fish in the Sea,” and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas’ “Heat Wave.” Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett’s “Midnight Hour” and Otis Redding’s “Respect,” and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds’ “Mr. Tambourine Man” and later “Younger than Yesterday,” still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll. Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops’ “Reach Out, I’ll Be There,” a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live. During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. “Mystic Eyes” open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn’t go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don’t really care. I only know that, then, as now, I’m grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them. The records were, of course, only part of it. In ‘65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them. Realizing that I wasn’t destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn’t cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn’t see myself as a critic – the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows – which weren’t so easy to find because they weren’t all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals’ two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beautiful to look at, and confirmation that we – and I – existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the glory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,” a record that stands just behind “Reach Out I’ll Be There” as means of musical catharsis. My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn’t make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I’ve forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing “When Something’s Wrong with My Baby” just the way they did it that night. The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I’m a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify – all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck – a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young’s After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions, Van Morrison’s Tupelo Honey, James Taylor’s records, Valerie Simpson’s Exposed, Randy Newman’s Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder’s records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell – but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can’t think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record “The E Street Shuffle” – but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, “For You,” and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a “Telstar” guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his “Four Winds Blow,” done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley’s but “Rosalita” never sounded better and “Kitty’s Back,” one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal – to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It’s five o'clock now – I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I’ll chicken out – and I’m listening to “Kitty’s Back.” I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me. I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin’ Spoonful once sang, “I’ll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it’s like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll.” Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it – just as long as I remember that I’m the stranger I’m writing for.