jvplawoffice

[romy350-romyakari]

My sanctuary for random music collection is in shambles 💦

Or well more like it is in shambles bc I use Android.

Hope they get to sorth it well eventually since I miss some of the tracks on my list.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🚨Thurs 17 Dec ‘20🚨

No one will argue, this year has been the worst and I'm not really into that whole 'silver linings to bad things' bit, but... BUT! If the demise of live shows and rise of livestreams meant Zayn deciding to perform for us?! Well. I would be willing to reconsider my whole ass philosophy on life! Unfortunately, despite the excitement (or was it hysteria?) he inspired last night by getting all our hopes up, it might just be a music video? We'll see though. He definitely did register a new song, UNFXWITABLE (!), and then, and THEN: slid a single photo into his instagram story, a truly beautiful old baroque theater stage, fitted with live show speakers and a tantalizingly closed red curtain. The stage lights are on, the seats are empty... prepping for zomething?? It was discovered to be the St George Theater in Staten Island, very exciting, but today more video of them working on whatever they're working on surfaced (a snippet at the theater with a bit of an unknown song audible) that makes it seem more likely they're working on a music video than a livestream set up. Still, we can DREAM. At the very least we're getting a new song any minute now and at best-- Z3 and a video AND a liveztream?? (or prerecorded, that's FINE.) The pap pics the other day were him leaving a menswear boutique (sorry I said home, my bad, it was the usual 'front door to car' walk though) leading to speculation he was getting fitted for zomething zpecial... maybe we'll get to see it soon!

Likely on account of the added European show tickets going on sale today, Louis came online to check in, and also to laugh at old videos of himself, send larries into a tailspin, and best of all, weigh in on and shut down discourse left and right THANK YOU SIR! Louis is happy to walk us all through how not to get Live In London video taken down (“do it on a burner account haha?” tips from the master truly, no one would know better so listen to him); he denies having such an account himself (“maybe I should”) though unlike Liam (see below) HE doesn't go that extra step into obvious lie territory and say he's NEVER had one. On how he deals with comments about his height (which are up again these last few days due to a video circulating that uses math to conclude once again that he is in fact, as documented, 5'9”), “I rise above them,” he zings back, and in appreciation of someone who actually got the joke, “you're on my level,” DOUBLE PUNNING, BOOM but that's not all: he finishes off with the comment that finished ME off, “such a peculiar debate.” REALLY. Peculiar specifically, not like strange or weird or annoying you just... went right in for the Eroda copyrighted word huh. OKAY. Also: no, probably no collabs on LT2 (“doubt it”), yes he loves twitter “in doses, no better way to talk to you lot” (you mean even better than via t shirts?? sounds fake but okay), tells us he is “100% for sure” is gonna get the vaccine, and that “cucumber is shit” which isn't really a discourse we needed him to solve that I knew of but like, okay! Sorted! Antis seethed about him talking to larries and larry UAs and picking a video of him and H singing You and I to reply to, and probably cucumber enthusiasts and anti-vaxxers were unhappy too, but the rest of us? WINNING.

Liam is all over, first appearing in a fisherman's cap that nicely sets of his full and fluffy beard, then demonstrating answering questions for the Naughty List insta filter. He says he has never made a fake social media account, so I guess he's not lurking here reading these or I would guess that if I believed THAT for one second, he also says yes I have lied to my best friend so I'll just chose to believe he means us by 'best friend' since here he is, lying away. Dixie is absent from the recent promo, which is a blessing not just because they don't mesh particularly well but also because she's gotten even more terrible on main, moving from simply allying herself with racists to producing her own racist content- if we're lucky she'll simply fade away along with xmas and we can move on without any of that thank you very much. Liam is still a good BFF to us though: today he's offering himself up as prize in a raffle, you can enter to win a 'once in a lifetime VIP Experience in 2021 with Liam' for a low low £5, funds going to Stagehand's #ILoveLive campaign to support industry workers. And on the 17th day of christmas, my LP Advent Alarm woke me up with... Roman Kemp leading us through a weirdly peppy breathing exercise, backed with both soothing spa music and a sample of Liam's voice taken from the sleep story played over and over at near random intervals! I said it before and I'll say it again, they REALLY should have recorded all the material at once last month, but tbh I am enjoying the chaotic daily scramble to find something to put on the thing that's come of them being caught short maybe even more than I would normal content, it's getting downright experimental and I'm fully here for it. It's got that classic janky af for no reason 1D feel you know!

Rob Sheffield found better things to say about Watermelon Sugar, naming it his number one song of 2020 and calling it “a lost Stevie Nicks/ Stevie Wonder duet” plus gifting us a Harry quote: “that one we reworked a bunch of times, and it died a couple times, then it just kept coming back. We fully killed it a few times, but it kept coming back in. So I thought, There’s a reason it’s surviving.” And Chris Pine- who also says that he's all done shooting his part of Don't Worry Darling- said, “Harry Styles is an absolute delight. He's one of the most professional people I've ever met. Couldn't be kinder, more gracious, I mean, really, I was stunned by this kid. He's off-the-charts cool.”

And finally, as 2020 draws to a close we are being flooded with a barrage of our guys being declared winners of incredibly narrow categories (Harry on a list of 'groundbreaking magazine covers' for example), but I think the winner of MY list of 'Highly Specific Accolades' is sewn up for the year already; Heartbreak Weather is officially “the first [advertising] campaign to utilize weather-tracking technology to target content to users”! I'll definitely be keeping my eye out for competitors but beating that for reaching for a category will be TOUGH.

[happymetalgirl]

Tool - Fear Inoculum

I didn’t actually intend to review the long-awaited fifth Tool album so long after its release, time and life got in the way of things, but I’m kind of glad in a way that I’m talking about it now after all the inevitable and ridiculous hysteria surrounding it has mellowed out, which is (spoiler) kind of a sign of the album’s relative quality next to the band’s other four records in and of itself. And, while now I get to talk about it without the confounding noise of the loud clamoring on about it, I don’t really think my words would have really been too different a month and a half ago than they are now.

Tool are a band, of course, who need no introduction; their cerebral brand of progressive alternative metal has become signature and iconic, and their four albums from 1993 to 2006 that preceded this one have served as an influence, if not a lofty aspiration, for thousands of artists since then. Like any self-respecting Tool fan, I consider Lateralus and Ænima to be roughly neck and neck at the top for my favorite spot in the band’s discography (the joint “Parabol” and “Parabola” together being my personal favorite Tool song). Those two albums show the quick crystallization of the band’s progressive metal psychedelia from their rougher, grungier beginnings earlier in the 1990′s. Though I do hold a lot of respect for how accomplished of a debut statement Undertow was, and how much ground it laid for the two albums to come. And even Opiate served as a strong prequel EP to that album. The band’s fourth album, 10,000 Days, however, took a perplexing turn from the heady, yet still metallic prog hallucinations the band had worked up to, and into more drawn-out, spacey experimentation, which I’d say haven’t really aged into anything and sound about as unnecessarily dilute and jam-band-ish as the day the album released in 2006. The album had its high points like the thundering bass of “Vicarious” and “Jambi” and the alternative metal oddity of “The Pot”, but it’s a largely tiresome and less rewarding listen than its predecessors. And that was the last we heard of Tool for thirteen years.

The tremendous wait for the album of course drummed up a lot of speculation of what it would sound like in relation to their previous works. Would it be a return to the beloved progressive metal of  Ænima and Lateralus? Would it be a culmination of all their sounds in retrospect into one gargantuan crowd-pleaser? Or would it be something totally new for the band. Not to toot my own horn, (and not like I can prove this anyway), but I had this hunch that this album would probably be just a delayed continuation of what the band were doing on 10,000 Days, and, while there is the occasional reinvigoration of their sound with some stylistic callbacks to their middle two records prior, lo and behold, as much as I wish I didn’t, for the most part I guessed right.

Coinciding with the band’s acceptance of the times and the advent of streaming with their release of their catalog onto digital platforms, Fear Inoculum was released as a single-disc CD and as a longer, digital version, with three extra instrumental interludes sprinkled throughout the track listing stretching it past the limits of the CD format to nearly eighty-seven minutes, and it sure feels like the hour-and-a-half-long listen that it is, and not in a flattering way. Like I said, the album is largely a continuation of the atmosphere-focused prog of 10,000 Days, which is only somewhat updated from the band’s 2006 effort. The main songs are all over ten minutes long, and the similarly low energy across the marathon track list doesn’t really make a great case for this direction in contrast to what the band have shown themselves to be great at, namely vibrant, untethered prog adventurousness.

The opening title track layers together plenty of diverse tom percussion and the band’s recognizable guitar reverb into a slowly growing and whirlpool (kind of like the album cover) of Tool’s 10,000 Days sonic pallet that gradually cascades into a thicker, distortion-fuzz-driven finish. The abstract, cryptic lyricism about shedding the influence of manipulative fear mongering is more cryptic than poetic, but I can see the vagueness of the subject being a good way to make it widely and appropriately applicable in its commentary and play into the paranoia of refusing to acknowledge exactly what this deceiver is. As a tension-builder, it’s a great way to start the album off, but it doesn’t really seal the pay-off as the heavy bass line tries to usher in a climax while the other instrumentalists mostly just coast on forward to the end of the song like a tired distance runner giving a bit of a burst to finish the last stretch. And that’s one of the shorter tracks, with over an hour left to go.

The second song, “Pneuma”, is structurally not too dissimilar, with a synthy bridge this time connecting the meditative tom-drum/reverb-guitar build-up to a relatively hum-drum metallic non-finale. It really only marginally feels like it’s that kind of progressively building song, clearly being more focused on its meditative ambiance than its intentional trajectory. In which case, I would have honestly probably preferred the band taking that approach more holistically, rather than trying to fit it into a prog metal formula. Lyrically, the song centers around a lot of transcendentalism that Tool have written about before, not really adding much new beyond perhaps a slightly different angle to meditate on it from. The song is followed by the first of the instrumental interlude tracks, “Litanie contre la peur”, which plays around with a melodically manipulated vocal inflection over some humming ambiance for about two minutes.

The third big piece on the album, “Invincible”, which finally plays a little more to the band’s progressive strengths. The guitar groove is actually allowed to drive the song and shine in a more energetic manner as Danny Carey gets to get a lot more bombastic behind the kit, as do the rest of the band during the instrumental sections throughout the song. It’s not only a more metallically groove-driven song whose heavier elements are actually used to cultivate a sense of meditation from a much more signature angle, but also a more interestingly progressive song that does more than just slowly swell up to a mild crescendo for ten minutes. The worries of the song’s warrior speaker are pretty transparently transposeable to the worry and struggles any aging artist (especially a long-absent artist like... Tool, maybe) to maintain their importance and the meaningfulness of their work.

The ominous bass hum of the second interlude track, “Legion Inoculant”, leads into the fourth of the album’s main epic songs, which keep getting longer and longer with the thirteen-and-a-half-minute environmental apocalypse warning “Descending”, which pleas for an end to the apathy that exacerbates the compounding climate crisis. Musically, the song plays into the somber melancholy of the lyrics, while taking a more balanced approach between the spaciness of the band’s last album and the heavier elements of Ænima in particular, perhaps intended given the similarity of that album’s title track’s subject matter. While some of the later sections feel a bit over-indulgent, this song deserves its length as it cascades through emotive defeatism via progressive metal ebbs and flows into this impending metallic crescendo that actually fits nicely with the melancholic rock build-up and the lyrical implications; it sounds like its tracking the collapse of , much like the title track of Ænima., starting and finishing with the sound of waves upon the shore that will continue to crash, just as they did before our takeover of the land, after our demise.

While the lyrical concept revolving around self-doubt and  of “Culling Voices”, is fascinating and all too tangible, the music falls more on the mild side again, with the band’s softer, more meditative atmosphere crashing just twice into explosive, but unimpressive climaxes of muscular, but not too creative, guitar riffing. The longest of the interludes, the wind-chime-laden and effects-doused electronic pulsing of “Chocolate Chip Trip”, features a tasty little drum solo to kind of make up for the lack of spotlight Carey gets on this album as he does so much of the rhythmic legwork, which I certainly appeciate and welcome.

The closing epic, “7empest” was the song fans were fawning over the most as a monstrous riff-fest after the album was finally released, and the riffing across the song’s almost sixteen minutes, as well as the repeating of the lyrical mantra, do capture some Ænima vibes, which makes sense knowing it was pieced together with motifs written during that era. The song’s lyrics once again call back to that breakthrough album with the repetition of the mantra “A tempest must be just that” in reference to the convenient muddying of the waters of responsibility for disasters caused by said chaos once it arises. It’s a song about those in power managing to use the chaos they create through their mismanagement to hide their guilt and just divert the blame on the chaos itself. The song is proggy in Tool fans’ favorite way and indeed dense with churning effects-laden riffage and a faster, much more aggressive vocal performance from Maynard James Keenan. While it is the longest, heaviest, and most vintage-Tool of the tracks here, I’d say it only stands a bit above the rest of the track list, and honestly maybe not surpassing the magnificent “Descending”.

The digital version wraps up with the odd, but disposable coda of the two-minute chirping sample manipulation of “Mockingbeat”, a strange note to end this version of the album on, but ultimately nothing destructive.

I had talked about Rammstein’s self-titled album and Slipknot’s We Are Not Your Kind as being among the year’s biggest of the biggest metal releases, but the long-awaited arrival of Fear Inoculum tops them both. Yet for all the drama building up around this album, all the hype that was inevitably going to hoist hopes and expectations to astronomical and similarly inevitably unrealistic levels, Fear Inoculum sits average at best, if not rather low in the band’s small catalog, and the rather quick hushing of this hype from fans and the metal sphere in general shows that I’m not alone in my relative underwhelmedness after the thirteen-year wait. While that sounds harsh, it is just because this album had such incredibly high expectations to live up to that it was most likely never going to meet. Fear Inoculum isn’t a terrible album by any means, but it does suffer from being drawn out the most by its weakest elements, its least creative ideas stretching it out in hopes of finding purpose for doing so, but coming back empty-handed. A little while after the album came out, Maynard made some kind of comment about this album being great eight years ago, which suggested that it had been in the works for a long time but perhaps held up by frivolous reasons, but also that it was composed largely near the time of 10,000 Days, as I thought it might have been, and it just kind of bugged me that this album probably didn’t need to be the huge prodigal event it was, maybe just an acceptable transitional moment for Tool to figure out what they wanted to do with their expanding sound arsenal. Instead we got arrested development dressed up as a comeback at a time when we might otherwise have one or two more albums from this band (by their releasing pace), possibly more accomplished. I had mentioned in my review of Opeth’s newest album that they deserved the patience with their prog rock transition, and that album showed it. It took four albums to get a record that could stand tall alongside their progressive death metal classics, but it came, and the journey did come with some good highlights along the way too. The journey to this album was a test of patience with clumsy publicity for several years more than anything else, not quite as rewarding, no music to offer along the way (aside from side projects), and still a sense of a band just picking up where they left off years ago without really assessing their direction. I’m glad Fear Inoculum is finally here, but I think others will share this sentiment with me even if they haven’t said it to themselves out loud. Yes, we got a few strong highlights out of this record, but I’m more relieved that the fiasco surrounding the wait is over than I am excited to have this batch of new songs (the latter of which I wish outweighed the former).

6/10

[sadprose-auroras]

‘About Time’ - Roger TaylorxFem!Reader (Part 1)

A/N: Hello my darlings! I can’t decide if I hate this or not, and I’m not sure if I’ll continue writing this, depends on the response. Please let me know if you want me to continue it (it would probably require way more parts, like a full on series). Hope you enjoy! - Also, this can apply to Ben Hardy’s portrayal of Roger. Whatever you prefer!

(This was totally inspired by a couple time travel fics I read a few weeks ago, I can’t remember the authors or the names but all credits to them for the time travel idea…. LOVE. IT. I just HAD to write my own, crappier version)

Find my other works here!

 You sunk to the floor, your knees giving out beneath you. You felt ridiculous, curling up in a ball, in your wardrobe, but you had reached your breaking point; everything had suddenly hit you. As you hugged your knees, sobbing, your jeans became tear-soaked. Your mind wandered, as your cheeks flamed in embarrassment and shame about your current state, despite nobody being around. How did you get here? A few months ago, your life was great. You had a great job, a great circle of friends and boyfriend, and you were pursuing your passion; studying fashion design. Then, everything began to crumble around you. All your friends turned on you, you got fired, and your studies began to slip as a result, causing you to fail an exam.  

 If all that wasn’t bad enough, you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you for a year and 11 months. Go figure. It was as if the universe was playing some long, cruel joke on you, just to see how long before you gave up on trying to pursue any kind of happiness. Just as you came to the conclusion that you really had nothing to fight for, leaning your head back on the wall behind you and closing your eyes, the strangest feeling overcame you. Your head began to spin, and pins and needles covered your entire body. You tried to open your eyes, to move your body, but you were frozen. Your heart rate increased rapidly, and you began to think that this was really it. Whatever was happening, you were going to die. Strangely enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.  

 By some miracle, everything stopped. The pins and needles ceased, and, save a throbbing headache, you felt much better. You experimentally wiggled your toes, and you had feeling back again. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, looking around you. It was dark, but you could make out the shapes of the clothes hanging around you. Oddly, you didn’t recognise any of them. The chair that was next to you when you closed your eyes was gone, replaced by a shoe rack.  

You stood up, closed your eyes again and rubbed your temples, trying to rid of the probable hallucinations. You racked your brain, thinking back to when you studied psychosis in high school. You couldn’t remember a thing. Was temporary paralysis a symptom? 

 You decided you needed to call a doctor. You pulled your iPhone out of your pocket, still in the dark, and opened up safari. You had no wifi, and no reception. Frowning, you opened the wardrobe door, the knob feeling unfamiliar, to be greeted by a figure doing the same. The door swung open suddenly, bouncing on its hinges.

 You both screamed loudly, and, without looking at the figure in front of you, you tried to push past to get away, however, a hand gripped you and pulled you back. 

 Your eyes became fixed on the man in front of you. You frowned, unable to tear your eyes off him. The hallucinations were getting worse; you were conjuring up images of people in your home. Hang on. You knew his face all too well; you had spent hours watching him drum and sing at concerts on YouTube. It couldn’t be, could it?

 “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my wardrobe!?” he asked, releasing his grip on you. You winced, rubbing where his fingernails had dug into you. This was all too much.

 “I should be asking you the same thing, why are you in my house? What’s going on?” you looked around the room, expecting to see your familiar bedroom; your posters plastered around the walls, your colourful duvet, and your plush white carpet. Instead, the walls were empty, the duvet was blue, and the carpet was grey.

 “I need to sit down,” you said, overwhelmed, perching on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. You glanced up at the man in front of you, his expression still shocked and wide-eyed, as he looked you up and down, his brows furrowing. 

 “God, you seem so real,” you laughed. “But there’s no way.”“What the fuck do you mean?” he replied. “I know I’m real, but I can’t say the same about you. I’ve never known anyone who can just appear out of thin air,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

 You frowned, rubbing your hands through your hair. “What do you mean, I appeared out of thin air?” your stomach began to sink. For reasons you couldn’t explain, something else was going on. Something much weirder than you initially thought.

 “Well, I don’t see how you could have got into my wardrobe without me seeing. I’ve been in my room for 20 minutes.” You glanced at his legs, frowning. What kind of person wears flared jeans anymore? 

 “I, um,” you began, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. This was all too ridiculous. You were actively avoiding eye contact with him. You figured if you acknowledged that it was him, at that age, in front of you, this would all go away. It was impossible. Suddenly, it all came together, as shocking as it was. It wasn’t him that was in the wrong place, it was you. This wasn’t your house. You had no wifi or reception. And, Roger Taylor, looking as he did circa 1972, was right in front of you. Had you time travelled? Your head span at the possibility. What else could explain these strange occurrences? 

 “What year is it?” you asked, this time properly meeting his eyes this time. Photos didn’t do the real thing justice; his baby blue eyes were maintaining steady eye contact with you, his lips were slightly parted, and his hair looked so soft and angelic. He was insanely beautiful. You internally cursed yourself. Now was definitely not the time.  

“1972…” he said, becoming even more confused. Your theory was confirmed. You’d watched all of the Back to the Future movies countless times, but you’d never imagined anything like that could ever really happen. Especially to you; plain, boring, old you. 

 “I know you’re probably not inclined to believe the crazy girl from your wardrobe, but I think,” you bit your lip, concerned at how he would take the news. “I think I’m from the future.” 

----------

 “So, you’re telling me you didn’t do anything for this to actually happen?” Roger asked. After trying to explain to him a million times, that yes, you were in fact just as confused as him, and no, you didn’t climb through his window, you tried to remain patient. He had every right to be confused as hell, you would definitely react the same if you were in his shoes. Despite this though, he was oddly trusting, allowing you to remain in his house and actually giving you the time of day to explain your side of the story. He even offered you a glass of water and something to eat, which you accepted gratefully. You were starving. 

 “Yes, I was literally just in my wardrobe, then the next thing I knew we were screaming in each other’s faces.” 

 “How do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t seem very sane so far. I’m going to need some proof. You could just be a crazy girl who will do anything to sleep with me,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes. So the stories were true, he really was cocky.

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Taylor,” you retorted. “And no,” you said quickly, as he opened his mouth to speak, “I don’t know your surname because I’m a crazy stalker.” Your mind wandered to your extensive Queen record and CD collection. Okay, so maybe you were a little, but he didn’t need to know that. 

 “I know because Queen makes it big. I mean, massive.” You bit your lip nervously. If Back to the Future taught you anything, nobody should know too much about their own future. For the first time in your life, you had to think about what you said before you said it.

“How can I convince you?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “What year do you claim to come from, anyway?”

“2019,” you bit your lip. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Am I….?”

 “Still alive? Yeah.” Suddenly, you had an idea. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, thankful it was still charged. You turned it on, the time and date you had left still displayed on the screen (18th January 2019, 11:00), in front of a picture of Queen from 1975. You turned the screen towards him. 

 “Holy shit, is that me?” he gasped, leaning forward. “2019.” He looked up at you, and you shrugged and nodded. You were thankful he didn’t know the implications of having a picture of somebody as your lockscreen. 

 “There’s something else,” you unlocked your phone, opening music and searching for ‘Doing Alright.’ You pressed play, the song pouring out of the speakers.

Yesterday, my life was in ruin

Now today, I know what I’m doing… 

“Oh my god, that’s our song! We haven’t even released it yet.” He chuckled. You couldn’t help but grin at his excitement, encapsulated by his gorgeous smile. 

 “Wanna hear more?” you smirked. It’s funny, you had never felt so comfortable around somebody so quickly. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him relaxed you. 

----------

 “Have you noticed I haven’t asked about that thing you’re holding, ‘cause I’m too scared to?”

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. You’d spent the last half an hour playing Roger a few more Queen songs. A small nagging voice in the back of your mind was telling you to stop, to not reveal anything about his future, no matter how small. But Roger’s pleading to hear more won.

 “It’s actually a phone,” you said, to answer his question. “Well, that’s its main purpose anyway. You can use it to take and store pictures, play music, and use the internet. Which, well, you’ll find out about in approximately 18 years.”

 “I’m intrigued, what’s the internet?” he asked. You thought of all the unspeakable things you had come across on social media, and shook your head.“You don’t want to know.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you tried to suppress a blush.  

You cleared your throat, averting your eyes from him as you straightened up in your seat. “What’s the time?” you asked. He glanced down at his watch. “3am,” he laughed in disbelief. “We should probably get some sleep. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

 You shook your head rapidly, taken aback by his utter kindness. “Oh my god no, please, I will. It’s your house,” you said, getting up from the chair you were sitting on. He did the same. You both stood awkwardly, basically staring at each other. You couldn’t help but think of the times you watched a Queen documentary on TV, with the Roger of your time’s commentary. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the same person.  

 He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off you, and going into his bedroom, mumbling something about getting something for you to sleep in.  

 As you awaited his return, you couldn’t help but wonder why you were so focused on how flustered you were around Roger, and not worried about the fact that you were literally stuck in the wrong year, and had no idea how to get back. The funny thing was, you had no desire to. You hadn’t felt so at home in a long time, than when you were laughing and talking with Roger. He made you feel so safe, so quickly. And that feeling would only grow stronger when you both gave up on convincing the other to sleep on the couch, and ended up sharing his bed. 

PART 2: BONUS CONTENT THAT I WROTE THE SAME DAY AS PART ONE. I’M NOT GOING TO CONTINUE IT BUT WHAT’S THE POINT OF HAVING IT IN A WORD DOC N NOT POSTING IT?

When I was writing this, I couldn’t stop imagining rom-com moments. Like, the outfit section? A cute montage with a cute song. Damn I wish I could express the images in my head more clearly, in words. My writing sucks. 

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!!” A familiar, yet foreign, voice startled you. As you came to your senses, you realised your usual soft, silky sheets were replaced with cotton ones, and an unusual smell wafted around you. You slowly opened your eyes, to be greeted by Roger leaning over you, a slightly annoyed look on his face. Fuck. It was real. He must’ve read your disappointment on your face, and he smiled sympathetically and nodded.

“Yep, you’re still here,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help but sigh; you’d hoped it was a really long, unusual dream.

“I have to go to rehearsal for a gig tonight. Do you wanna come?” Of course you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to meet the rest of the band, and literally see the magic happen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were invading. But then again, who could say they had the chance to sit in on an early Queen rehearsal, especially knowing how successful and impactful they were going to become?

“I don’t – I don’t want to intrude,” you mumbled, sitting up in the bed and clutching the duvet around you, suddenly feeling exposed in Roger’s white shirt.

“Well it’s your choice, I understand that you probably don’t want to sit around with us when you could be finding a way back home or finding your parents or something,” he said.

Although you would never admit it, you wanted nothing more than to go with him. Not only was it literally history in the making, but the absence of your birth parents in your life, leading to a childhood of foster families who couldn’t care less about you, gave you a sense of independence at a young age. You knew how to be alone, seeking solace in music. Music created by the greats like Queen made you feel less alone, as silly as it sounded. It was your escape from the struggles in your real life.

“Wait, no. I want to come. If you don’t mind. But I need something 70s appropriate to wear,” you chuckled, glancing over at your high-waisted skinny jeans and cropped knit jumper folded neatly on a chair.

“I think that can be arranged.” Roger grinned at you, and you were struck with yet another wave of disbelief. Roger Taylor was going to lend you come of his iconic clothes.

After spending a couple of hours going through Roger’s clothes, which was your absolute dream, you finally settled on a pair of pants that were a little too short, and a shirt that was slightly too tight across the chest. You tried to spice up the outfit with a few of Roger’s necklaces, much to his dismay.

“Do I look okay?” you asked when you stepped out, twirling around with your arms out.

Roger, standing with a pile of clothes in his arms that you had rejected, furrowed his brows and looked you up and down. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight; he was taking his job as your stylist very seriously.

“You’ll almost fit in,” he said, “although, the shirt is too tight,” he finished bluntly, gesturing to your chest. You folded your arms instinctively.

“Don’t worry, I won’t look at your boobs.” You frowned at this. Was that meant to make you feel better? Why did you feel slightly disappointed?

“Um, thanks?” you scoffed. “What should I do with my hair?” you tugged on each of your French braids. Roger walked towards you without warning, and pulled out your hair ties, running his fingers through your hair.

“Just leave it loose.” He said hoarsely, his face dangerously close to yours. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was biting his lip in concentration, his eyes squinting as he adjusted your hair. It took everything in you to not lean into his touch; his fingers were so delicate. As he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, his eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” he almost whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You knew you should pull away. You knew this would get way too complicated. Your rationality was telling you to snap out of it. But as his hands smoothly came to rest around your neck, bringing you closer, something else entirely was driving your actions.  Just as you began to lean in, he pulled away, clearing his throat loudly.

“Let me get you a coat,” he said, quickly rushing away from you. You bit your lip, cheeks flaming. You were humiliated. What were you thinking, trying to kiss him? He obviously wasn’t attracted to you; the weird, pathetic crazy time-traveller. You didn’t even belong here anyway, how could you possibly think he would want you? Your eyes began to well up, you just had to get out of there.

As you quickly began to gather your clothes and phone, furiously wiping the tears from your eyes, Roger returned with a fur coat in his arms.

“Here, this should fit – wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, realising your state.

“I’m just gonna go. I’m so sorry to have invaded your life like this, you shouldn’t have to deal with my weird ass problems. Thank you for everything. It was nice meeting you, I guess. I’ll never forget you,” you rambled, becoming increasingly embarrassed, trying to walk past him. He gently placed his hands on your upper arms, turning you to face him.

“Hey, hey, I don’t have to help you, okay? I want to. If you’ll let me.” he said, a surprisingly vulnerable look on his face.

“But, I’m burdening you too much! You can’t have me holding you back from living your normal life. You don’t want me clinging to your side like some kind of….” You paused, struggling to find the right words in your frazzled state. “Some kind of leech. I mean, I’m just annoying. For God’s sake, we have nothing in common! I’m technically young enough to be your daughter!”

Roger laughed softly. “Okay, first of all, you’re not a leech. And yes, it’s weird that you��re from the future, and I’ll probably never wrap my head around it, but so what? We shouldn’t get along, but we do.” You hoped he couldn’t notice your blush at this.

“And, lastly,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his face, “the thought of you being my daughter is gross, but me being your daddy on the other hand…”

“Oh my god, Roger! No!” you couldn’t help but laugh, as you rapidly shook your head. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not; you secretly hoped he wasn’t.

“So, do you still wanna come to rehearsal?” he asked, all joking aside.

You sighed, hoping you weren’t being a burden. “Okay, give me that then,” you grabbed the coat off him, pulling it on.

“Do I look normal?” you asked.

“No,” he smirked, and you raised your eyebrows at him. “In a good way, though. Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand. You tried to ignore the jolts of electricity you felt from this sweet gesture. You never thought simply holding hands with someone would give you so many butterflies.

[slacktron23]

Albums of the Day, 11/07/2021

All albums played on vinyl over speakers unless otherwise noted. Requests for specific gear information are fine.

Leafcutter John - Yes! Come Parade With Us

"A concept album by a sweet English electronic artist about walking on the seaside" is how I described it to my wife. One of the best albums of 2020, I was pretty happy to be able to pick it up recently and it must be said that physically, it's a lovely object. The art on the record itself is simple and based on something handdrawn, as is the record sleeve (and that cover!). Aurally, it's one of those albums where there's a bit split between Side A, which has demonstrably recognizable songs that have a beat, in an IDM sense, and then Side B, which is more experimental and meandering. The first few times that I listened to it I really focused in on the early bangers and felt like the second half felt a little more filler-y.

Thankfully, I was wrong and the more I listen, the more I appreciate the noodly and enticing nature of Side B, how it rewards careful listening with hints and tendrils of structure coming in and out of the wash.

The Who - Live at Leeds

It's a bit trite at this point to say that this is the definitive The Who album and probably incorrect? Because it's not an album, and they definitely have more than a few that standout as such. That said, the reason that Live at Leeds has the monolithic reputation that it does is because it captures the energy of the group, who, if their reputation from those who saw them live at their pomp (I have second-hand reporting on this from my father) as a Live Band and this is one of, if not the, best live recording ever captured.

It's when they hit Shakin' All Over and they go into the jam sequence, then swing into this heavy-ass all-low-end before getting back to the actual song, where you really get the sense of what a kinetic unit they were.

Plus, it has the best version of the best Who song, in Substitute.

[gigsoupmusic]

Sheep on Drugs, R.O.C., Micko & the Mellotronics (3 March 2020)

We're back once more at Paper Dress Vintage (you can't keep us away!), and again we are there for three very different bands, one of which (Sheep on Drugs) was a band close to the heart of one of these two reviewers (Tristán), having been raving to them in the mosh-pit as a young student in the very early 1990s in Camden Palace. This was going to be a nostalgia trip! But first, the support acts. First up was a band that were completely new to us: Micko & the Mellotronics. They have an interesting sound, with a nice rolling beat, a bit Buzzcocks in places.

Singer and guitarist Micko Westmoreland once played Jack Fairy in the Velvet Goldmine movie that starred Eddie Izzard among others. The other guitarist is Jon Klein, who was one of the founders of the Batcave, a trailblazing London goth club from the early 80s, and was part of Siouxie and the Banshees for seven years. Nick Mackay (drums) and Vicky Carroll (bass) complete the foursome.

Following a song called "Psychedelic Shirt" which was, according to Micko, inspired by growing up in Leeds, the band played the first real toe-tapper, a track called "The Now", which got very spacey in the second half, finishing with a really good instrumental. Unfortunately, the microphone that Micko was using was set up in a very unidirectional manner, which meant that we could only really hear the lyrics when his mouth was right in front of it. Every time he moved his head down to look at his guitar, the sound would cut out. Fortunately, Micko opens his mouth very expressively when he sings, so it was possible to fill in the gaps by lip-reading.

A lot of their songs were quite diverse, from the very dark "You Killed My Father" (…'now you must die'), which Micko told us was dedicated to people who have departed us, to the happy-bonkers "The Finger", which was their first single, released just last year. The highlight was when a chap in a suit started dancing in a joyous but crazy fashion at the front of the audience. 'It's Steve from accounts', we joked. We had no idea that it was a set-up, and thought that it was a genuine outburst of energy from someone who had spent far too long on Excel spreadsheets all day and was letting his hair down. So we recorded the end of the song and uploaded it to YouTube here: https://youtu.be/hJiL9aLescY We were a little disappointed when we got home and had a look at the official video of this song, only to discover that the video indeed features the same gentleman. Since not that many people knew who he was, as I imagine most of the audience were there for the next band, we are sure that we were not the only ones to be left very bemused by this.

The band finished up by playing a few more songs, culminating with a very screechy song about Imelda Marcos which certainly would have woken up anyone who was starting to drift off. It was time for a break and to get ready for band number two. R.O.C. were up next, a new-wave indie-electronica group from Brixton that have been going strong since 1990, and which was once championed by the late great John Peel. With at least seven band-members on stage (there could have been an eighth lurking amongst the smoke), this was another band with a wide variety of musical styles, as demonstrated by the opening three songs alone. Following a pleasant atmospheric intro, R.O.C. played a track from the first album (Bile & Celestial Beauty). It was called "Think Again", with male singer Fred Browning screaming in anguish down the mike, punk-style, lyrics such as 'I don't wanna go through this again, I'm sure I'll have to see it through again'. We have no idea what it was that he was describing, but we felt for him.

Unfortunately, it did appear that R.O.C. were going to be concentrating on the aforementioned new album, which we had not heard before and did not really know what to expect. We much prefer it when acts intersperse new stuff with old. But the first five songs were entirely from Bile & Celestial Beauty. Vocal duties tended to alternate between Fred Browning and Karen Sheridan. So when Karen took to the mike for the next song, we were hoping for something a bit jollier. However, this was another song full of anguish. Called "Journey", it includes lyrics such as 'I've got to-oo be strong, I've got to-oo move on'. We filmed the footage for your delectation. https://youtu.be/OgD-CDMX1cc Next up it was Fred's turn to sing. "Sea of Storms" had even more anguish, with lyrics such as 'what would be the point of staying around' and 'How can I keep on holding on. I've gotta gotta gotta gotta hold on'. A song called "Chateau" was up next, which was probably one of our least favourites, not just because Karen sings the lyrics 'I will kill you before you kill me'. However, the next song was old of the oldies! "I Want You I Need You I Miss You", which is from their 1994 album Girl With a Crooked Eye, has the joyful lyrics 'one day you will soon be mine', 'you're so sweet to me, like the fruit of the cherry tree, you're so good to me'…. This is a lovely song, cheesy as hell but such a breath of fresh air after all the angst.

Another great song followed, "Princess" from 2005, which was much more breakbeaty and very dancey. "Silver Highway" came next, which in spite of being from the new album was much more chill and laid-back. They finished off with another classic, "Cheryl", which came out in 1997, and was probably their most psychedelic tune, starting with a disco beat and ending a with great drum outro. R.O.C. are a very experimental band and there's nothing quite like them, to be honest. Their music is often interspersed with recorded video footage and various incongruous sounds, which work well. It is clear why John Peel championed them all those years ago. However, we found the lyrics on the songs from the new album just a tad too depressing for a Tuesday night. We needed cheering up. Thank goodness for the glorious and shameless fun that are Sheep on Drugs. A flash of bright yellow glowing in the UV lighting on stage immediately attracted our attention. This was someone's hair, and upon closer inspection it was none other than Dead Lee (Lee Fraser), the original guitar and keyboardist from Sheep on Drugs, his face painted up to look like a nose-bleeding drug-fuelled rock god.

Setting up her trusty keytar was the strikingly sexy techno-punk bundle of energy that is Johnny Borden, who has been part of Sheep on Drugs for well over a decade now. Sadly, no King Duncan, but Borden's vocals (and occasionally Lee's) combined are more than a match.

There is not a single down-tempo song among Sheep on Drugs' repertoire. It is banger after banger, mixing punk in with industrial techno, and occasionally very x-rated lyrics. After their intro, the first song was called "Step into the Light", and was from the brand new album, Does Dark Matter. But Sheep on Drugs know how to entertain a crowd. They knew that we were here for the classics. There was only one other track from the new album, buried towards the end of the set. That's the way to do it!

Next up was "Let the Good Times Roll", from their 1994 album …On Drugs. Proper rave classic. It was amazing what a great sound the two of them made on stage. Music speaks louder than words, so here is our footage from the beginning of our great trip down memory lane. We should however warn anyone with photo-sensitive epilepsy to look away now. https://youtu.be/dYqqUhIdzfs A special word really has to go out to the exceptional lighting that we enjoyed during Sheep on Drugs' set, as can be appreciated in the photos that accompany this review.

The lasers were particularly awesome, and it really did look as though they were actually emanating from the performers' instruments. Paper Dress Vintage certainly do have their lighting sussed.

Borden would occasionally play her keytar but most of the music was up to Lee, when he was not also on singing duty. Lee played guitar occasionally, but for most of the set he played a first generation Kaossilator that was embedded into a toy guitar (or perhaps the latter was one of those consoles used for playing guitar-based videogames). Onto his leg he had strapped a Kaoss Pad, which he used not only to distort the sound coming from the Kaossilator, but also for creating very fast looping and sampling. To do this while standing up, rocking out, singing and not looking at it is a talent that puts some of today's laptop musicians to shame.

Next up, the very punk-rave classic "Still Ill", from the band's quite remarkable 2010 album Medication Time. We filmed this one too, but we're afraid we were standing a little too close to the speakers, so the sound is very distorted. Not that it really matters. It's still eminently enjoyable. https://youtu.be/Z63gDyekeXY Next came two tracks from their ironically-titled Greatest Hits début album from 1993. "Track X" was the song that Grace Jones then went on to cover, calling it "Sex Crime" (a title that probably made more sense). It is easy to forget just how influential a band Sheep on Drugs actually were! Then Borden did something extraordinary, and appeared to set light to her leg. I believe she had some lighter-fuel-soaked tissue-paper tucked into her boots and it flared up and gave everyone a bit of a surprise. Did that really get past health & safety? Come on! do you really think Sheep on Drugs would clear anything with health & safety? Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission!

{#nofilter - none of the photos on this page have been Photoshopped. The lighting really was this good!}

With all this pyromaniacal excitement, we had forgotten to get the beginning of "Motorbike" on camera, which was the next song, also from the 1993 album. To make up for it, we let the camera roll on for "Hero on Heroine", which is on Medication Time and we loved it, and reminded us of some early Prodigy. Borden starts this song by taking out a whip, singing how she can 'take it harder', while a crudely-drawn cock-and-balls spins around on the projection behind her. It's all very raunchy. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/Q5xN0UUzmsc "Rip it Up", from their often ignored 2005 album F**K, was next, which featured some great vocal effects courtesy of Lee's Kaoss Pad. This had us bouncing around the floor, at times reminding us of Sigue Sigue Sputnik at their greatest. Then came what has to be the finest cover version of Velvet Underground's "I'm Waiting for the Man" (Lou Reed would have loved it), followed by the only other song from the new album, called "Going Soon", which was very entertaining and ended with Borden holding a mannequin or doll's arm between her legs, in the style of a giant phallus. Well, her name is Johnny after all! This led us into into another song from Medication Time, "12 Good Years".

And then, the final two songs. The fantastic "15 Minutes of Fame" from their début album, and "Life's A Bitch", off of F**K, came next, and we filmed it for you here (with the usual caveat about flashing lights): https://youtu.be/-5KPIMUaCvU What a way to end. Punk rave at its finest, with Lee chanting shouts into the mike, and Borden on her keytar. Talk about finishing on a high!

We loved tonight. But we were mainly here for Sheep on Drugs, whereas we got the impression that a lot of the rest of the crowd were here for the first two acts. Had more industrial electro-punk acts been chosen as the support bands, not a single punter would have left before 11 o'clock. Mixing genres can be a fun concept, but it does mean that the last act sometimes doesn't get the crowds they deserve, especially if the support acts have a half-decent following of their own. We thought Sheep on Drugs were ten out of ten, tonight. Not just for sheer entertainment, but for talent also. We are also very appreciative that there were only two "new" songs out of the thirteen played, though since the new album is pretty fantastic we look forward to hearing more of it in future gigs, once we are a little more used to it.

So, now the question needs to be: how does the 1990 Sheep on Drugs compare to the Sheep on Drugs of thirty years later? Very, very favourably, to be honest! OK, there is no King Duncan, who was a real livewire on stage. And Lee doesn't have the same vocals. But Borden is an outstanding entertainer and an excellent singer, plus she has added all that crude and sexy pizzazz that Duncan didn't exactly have. Lee is a good singer, not enough people give him credit for that. We believe that some of the videos above, in particular the last one, will convince people that the man certainly does have a powerful voice. We would even go as far as to say that he was the best male singer of all those we had enjoyed listening to last night. No disrespect is meant to either Micko Westmoreland or Fred Browning. They were entertainers too, in their own way. But there's entertainment… and there's a show. And Sheep on Drugs gave us a show we will not forget in a hurry. Read the full article

[delightful-mystery]

Grief in Gold and Grey

In times like these, I always turn to music. I am incredibly lucky that my favourite band, Baroness, released an album so exquisite, so meaningful – that I am able to use it to guide me through these months following the death of my father. There will obviously be triggering passages in this blog post so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to read it. There will also be lots of nerd-ing out about Baroness in a way that only a fan can do, so if you aren’t familiar with their music a lot of this might go over your head (I do recommend listening to them though, even if metal isn’t your thing). Quotes and facts are taken from Kerrang!’s track-by-track guide to the album, which featured lead singer John Dyer Baizley talking us through the album. I’m not going to apologise for being a massive music nerd, but I will warn you that it’s coming.

The album I am talking about is Gold & Grey, the last in Baroness’ line of colour-wheel-themed albums. These colours immediately to me seem to conjure up the season of Autumn and the changing of leaves, misty mornings and cups of coffee. I put on this album, beginning to end, one morning when I was set on some productive self-care. I had just changed my bedsheets, was wearing a cosy jumper and drinking coffee. I also had new pants on, which isn’t essential but damn does it feel good.

These are some of the musings I had whilst listening to this album. At the time of writing, I’m not one hundred percent sure I even want to publish this, but if I’m going to write about my dad dying, then using music as a way to break down conscious barriers and inspire creativity seems like a good way to go about it. So here follows a track-by-track breakdown of my favourite Baroness album, mixed in with some thoughts about grief, and how this album helped me to make sense of (at least some of) it.

It’s a cosy album, as far as sludge metal can be described as “cosy”. It is, I would argue very strongly, the best Baroness album to date. I felt slightly underwhelmed on the first listen, but honestly, with Baroness, you always have to give each record at least three listens to even begin to unpack everything. I think the proper turning point was when I put it on whilst going on a run, and ended up listening to ‘I’d Do Anything’ at the top of the hill outside Alexandra Palace, having just run 10k, sobbing my eyes out as I looked over London. I would also definitely recommend listening to this album whilst running, or maybe meditating.

The album opens with ‘Front Towards Enemy’, which I actually think is probably the weakest song on the album (that being said, it’s still pretty great). It’s classic sludgy Baroness, with tuned down guitar strings “as low as it would go” but also contains notes of r ‘n’ b, soul and has quite a pop-y chorus. It signalled to me that this album was going to be the start of a very different sound for Baroness, and bring in lots of different elements. Which the rest of the album definitely did. What I have noticed on subsequent listens is that the harmonies of the ‘Anchor’ duo – ‘Anchor’s Lament’ and ‘Throw me an Anchor’ – are repeated and reflected all over the album, and do a really good job of knitting the album together in a way I don’t think Purple ever properly achieved, or at least not to the extent I would expect from a band such as Baroness. It’s these harmonies which first begin the record, and they are beautiful.

‘I’m Already Gone’ is a more simplified song, but still so beautiful. There was a lot of improvisation done on this album. So much so that Baizley has said he’s not sure if he will ever be able to fully recreate the guitar part properly. There are so many colours mentioned in this album; this song makes use of black and green as well as “golden at the seams”. I’m not going to try to understand what John actually meant but for me it kind of sounds like inevitability. It’s a very dark song lyrically, so I don’t feel like I’m stretching by projecting my own experiences of looking death in the fucking face over the last four years of my dad’s illness onto this track. 

When ‘Seasons’ was released as the second single, prior to the album, but after ‘Borderlines’, I did a double-take looking at my speaker. I literally stopped whatever it was I was doing just to stare, open-mouthed at the noise coming from the video I had just put on to play. I was so confused. Baroness are doing blast beats now? And is that…? I mean, that drum groove sounds an awful lot like drum ‘n’ bass to me. I mean, I loved it straight away but it was so different. This is the track which made me so damn excited for this album to come out. Also, “we bend, we break /  we burn, but we survive” is but one lyric in a song all about seasons coming and going, and the constant flow of emotions and states of being. This too shall pass.

The first of the instrumental/interlude tracks on the album, ‘Sevens’ is an ethereal melding of different piano parts written and performed by bassist Nick Jost. It’s a perfect moment of calm in an album of chaos and it sounds to me like an understanding, a recognition of pain and a comforting answer to it. It also sounds like Steve Reich.

‘Tourniquet’ is such a stand out track. The bassline is the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time and I think Nick Jost did such a great job on this album as a whole, but this song is fully his. The end of the song reflects ‘Assault on East Falls’ as well – like these themes were all established in our collective subconscious in the first half of the album before being fully expanded on in the second half. It’s an album of chaos which is straightened out more and more on subsequent listens, if you only have the patience and concentration to allow the band to take you on this journey with them. Anyway, this song was such a solid choice for a single. It’s the epitome of the “cosy metal” I was talking about earlier. In the interviews with the band for their YouTube channel, Jost is sitting on a rocking chair on his porch, all bundled up in jumpers and drinking a cup of coffee, which is how this song should be listened to, in my opinion. Fun fact; to create the final chord of the song, Baizley set up a circle of amplifiers, the band stood in the middle wearing different animal masks and then played the chord for about ten minutes. They used some of it on the record, overlaid with the minimal effects found later on ‘Assault on East Falls’.

The Anchor�� duo? Suite? I don’t know what to call it but there are two songs that go together next – ‘Anchor’s Lament’ and ‘Throw me an Anchor’. These are two songs I get completely lost in when I listen to them. I feel like the screams of ‘Throw me an Anchor’ are expelling my own rage and confusion, and it’s a perfect example of a time that I feel like the songs on this record are there to catch me. ‘Throw me an Anchor’ was another moment that I did a double-take (but like… with my ears?) when I first heard it. The intro is just so heavy. It’s the start of Side B. The chorus is pretty anthemic, but towards the end of the song, it just descends into this really primal screaming, which is something I really appreciate.

I find ‘I’d Do Anything’ quite a difficult song to listen to, since it’s just so vulnerable and heartfelt. The vocals are very exposed with just an echoey piano bassline and some strings to accompany them. It’s the first time we can properly hear John and newcomer Gina singing together in such an intimate way. I can’t get over how perfect this pairing is. They play guitar together as if they’ve spent a whole lifetime dueting. In one interview, they spoke about playing their parts simultaneously and recording live, so that if one of them messed up they’d have to start again. They also recorded whilst standing back to back, meaning that they had to put the maximum amount of trust in the other person in order to play the song. ‘I’d Do Anything’ has more dark lyrics and it’s a good one to put on if you fancy a bit of a cry.

‘Blankets of Ash’ is just a weird soundscape really. It’s a guitar part, a spoken word passage mixed so it’s completely incoherent, the noise of a thunderstorm and a massive bass drop with some haunting wordless vocals over the top. It’s bizarre and experimental and it totally works and I love it.

Gold & Grey album cover, designed by John Dyer Baizley. Seriously, cover me in tattoos of this man’s artwork, please.

This next song is an understated favourite. ‘Emmett – Radiating Light’ is just so gorgeously weird. Recorded in part in a cabin in the middle of the woods with crickets chirping in the early hours of the morning, Baizley has said that this is one of a number of songs on the record that he can’t actually play the guitar part for. This is a song which speaks to me as it discusses feeling displaced. “Where I’m supposed to be / Is no longer the place for me,” is a good lyric, but it’s the truly nihilistic “This blood upon my hands / Bruises on my knees / Don’t belong to me” which really resonates with me. A lot of the time right now, things don’t feel real. I have been on and off of autopilot for weeks. It’s really weird. But the song does offer some hope, as the narrator is still “… in a shower / Of radiating light / But not where I belong.” To me, it kind of sounds like there is beauty to be found in this sense of displacement, in this bizarre in-between state. And that I can let my emotions wash over me, because I am held by their beauty. It’s a really great song. 

‘Cold-Blooded Angels’ is arguably the best song on the album. It travels through so many different emotions on its way to a classic Baroness trope of totally upturning all expectations of where the song was going and changing completely for the last minute or so (see also: ‘Chlorine and Wine’, ‘Psalms Alive’, etc.) It marks the end of Side B and really sees it off in style. I think about death a lot these days, and it terrifies me. Not the fact that I could die, but that, a few weeks ago, my dad just… stopped Being. I think it’s a pretty normal thing to fixate on, given the circumstances. This song also kind of puts that into words for me – the fact that I have been so scared of so many things in my life (growing up with crippling anxiety/depression/dodgy health from a very young age) and just wasted so much time being wary of everything when what is really scary is right here and now, just around the corner. 

‘Crooked Mile’ and ‘Broken Halo’ also kind of go together. The first song bleeds into the next with this weird, jazzy and somewhat atonal mood. ‘Broken Halo’ introduces lyrics and is the most obvious mention of the album’s name, with Baizley bellowing “GOLD AND GREY”. It’s quite a straightforward song compared to most of the other ones on the album. With “I would do anything to feel like I’m on fire again,” it also mirrors a lot of the other lyrical content of the album. It also says “I will hold your broken halo” which to me just sounds really reassuring. I think Gina’s harmonies are also really great on this track.

The chaotic acid freak out of ‘Can Oscura’ is a good way of describing how I feel in the middle of this mess – like someone has pulled several carpets out from under my feet. I feel very small and lost in the middle of this massive event, and confused. 

He’s so good

‘Borderlines’ is the song that won me back over after the disappointment of Purple. Not that Purple was bad at all – it gave us ‘Chlorine and Wine’, one of Baroness’ best songs to date. It just felt like it was more a collection of tracks than a coherent album to me. I guess that makes sense for their first album following the devastating bus crash; that it would be the auditory version of an open wound, but as soon as I heard ‘Borderlines’ I was immediately much more on board. This is the first time we hear Gina feature on a Baroness record as well, and I was so excited to hear her additions to this song. It signalled the beginning of a new chapter, a more cohesive album than Purple, and one which sounds to me like beginning to heal.

The minimalist ‘Assault on East Falls’ is a piece which has been hinted at throughout the album. Here, we get the whole piece in all its glory. It’s an interesting place to put the final interlude song but it’s a really nice set up for the final song, which is another of my album favourites.

‘Pale Sun’ is the last song on the album. It might also be my favourite. It’s bizarre and ghostly and mixes up rhythms in a really unsettling way. Gina comes into her own here too, with ethereal vocals as well as her usual outstanding guitar playing. I’m so glad she’s in this band. It’s an interesting choice to end the album on, but to me it sounds defiant above all else – yes there is darkness and yes it is close and terrifying and everywhere but I will continue on, despite it all, damn it. Even when the sun sinks.

Thanks guys <3

from Grief in Gold and Grey

[elfnerdherder]

Ill Intentions: Chapter 7

You can read Chapter 7 on Ao3 Here

Check out my Patreon Here and consider becoming a patron! Early releases, background, access to character arcs and more!

Chapter 7: Collaborative Writing

           Getting medical records wasn’t easy. There was an issue with the law, for one, and after the fourth hospital in the area refused to let him look into their patient files without some sort of officer of the law present to validate his claims, he stood out on the steps and scowled into the late autumn afternoon.

           So much for going around Jack Crawford to find his killer.

           He answered the phone when it rang, huffing down the last few steps to make his way towards a small coffee shop nearby. It was Todd, master of illegal substance abuse and marketing.

           “I got your paper, although let me just say that whoever bought this probably avoided putting their name because they’re big money.”

           “Big money?”

           “Rich, loaded, whatever the hell you want,” Todd said. There was the sound of crunching, chip bag rustling. “It’s a place down near downtown called “Lily Works,” and they do specialized paper, announcements, you name it. The color and style is “Florence Alabaster” and you were right, it’s a vellum blend. Family owned store, only like…5 people working there.”

           “Good find, Todd.”

           “Good find to you too, ass,” Todd said. He was still sore about his cocaine. “You get their name, try and see if they’re in the market for a sugar baby or something because this stuff isn’t sold individually, and it’s about twenty bucks a sheet.”

           Will whistled, low and impressed. Someone walking by mistook it as him attempting to dog whistle at them, and they shot him a dirty look before they hurried on.

           “Anything else you need, oh wondrous one?”

           “I’ll let you know if I can think of anything,” Will promised.

           “Yeah, you do that,” Todd retorted sarcastically.

           He hung up, and Will grabbed a Frappuccino, just because. He didn’t exactly need it, but he needed something to do with his hands, something to ground him since his thoughts were hung up on how he was going to find a way to get hospital records, let alone find out if the victims had even all gone to the same hospital. First one step, then another. He felt the Chesapeake Ripper, just out of reach of his grasp. Fingers tightened on his Frappuccino.

           “Thought I’d find you here.”

           Freddie sat down across from him, and Will tracked the movement, trying to ignore the odd twisting in his gut that said that out of anyone he wanted to see, she didn’t quite make the list.

           “Why did you think that?”

           “Because you were near the hospital and got shut down on looking at private medical records, so you needed a pick-me-up,” she explained.

           “Spying, Lounds?”

           “Stealing, Graham?”

           They considered one another over the linoleum tabletop. It looked like old, aged wood, although an experimental tap of fingers when he first sat down revealed the truth. Particle board with a plastic overlay. Will took a deliberate, slurping sip of his drink and set it down on the napkin so that it didn’t leave a water stain for someone else to have to wipe down later.

           “What do you want?” he asked at last –not as cornered as Todd, but a little bit cornered. He’d stolen from her file cabinet, after all.

           “In.”

           “That’s not that easy,” he said slowly.

           “Katz hates me, I know, but that’s not the issue. You can convince Katz, but you can’t convince the hospital desk woman to look at records, can you? I can get around that. You need me.”

           “I need you,” Will scoffed. He took another sip of his drink so that his hands were cupped rather than clenched.

           “I can go where you can’t,” Freddie assured him.

           “At a price.”

           “If you’re good at something, Graham, don’t do it for free.” She tilted her head, expression intent, earnest. In that moment, Will would have painted her passionate. “You think you’re the only one that wants to catch the Chesapeake Ripper? You think you’re the only one that thinks the FBI is in over their head with this guy, bound so much by their rules that they’ll never catch him?”

           Will frowned, glancing about the quaint shop whose baristas looked hassled, whose small bakery section had been picked clean by the morning rush. The quiet music was crackly, static from a bad speaker, and he rubbed his ear –self-soothing, he’d once been told. He did that a lot.

           “How long have you been compiling your stuff?” he asked.

           “Years. Nothing yet to really put out a new article, but I keep it on the back burner at all times. Once that drops, Graham, I’m all over it. I look at that file I keep at least once a week. That’s how I knew it was missing so soon.” A pause. “Ass.”

           He sighed. “What’s your price?”

           Freddie tried to look contrite in her victory. “Co-written special, front page.” At Will’s mouth ready to object, she continued with, “Katz gets next page; I won’t leave her behind.”

           “You won’t?” he asked dubiously.

           “No, otherwise I’d never hear the end of it.”

           “What do you know that I have?”

           “I know you’ve had to have corresponded with him in some other way, otherwise this wouldn’t get to you as much. The FBI has people coming by the agency daily, checking in, checking on mail, a second rate van across the street like they’re slick. Sooner or later, they’re going to try and tap your phone until they realize you don’t have a landline, you’ve got a watch and the phone you keep in your left pocket at all times but that’s about it.” She tilted her head, her large blue eyes keen, sharp. “How did he get a hold of you?”

           “My phone.”

           “Why didn’t you tell them?”

           “Same reason you haven’t taken any of your theories to them.”

           I want this for myself.

           They stared at one another, weighing their worth in the crackly silence. There was an uncomfortable sensation as Will studied her that made him see himself in the curl of her hair, the purse of her full lips. Chapstick, not lipstick. Fresh-faced rather than covered. She let her mouth and her hair talk for her, unapologetic and considerably far more real than most people –far more real than the person he projected to the public, that was for damn sure.

           “Look, I do a lot of writing about psychopaths,” she said quietly. “I know them almost as much as I know myself.”

           “Do you?”

           “I know enough to know you’re one bad day away from something much like that,” she said snidely. “I know enough to know you’re not doing this to get ahead at work.”

           “You once crept into a man’s hospital room to steal photos of him after he was gutted by a psychopath, Freddie,” Will said slowly. “I think you have more of a capacity for psychopathic tendencies, not me.”

           “Look at us, a couple of psychos at a coffee shop. What’ll Charlie do when he finds out?”

           “As long as we do our jobs, I don’t think he’ll do much.”

           “Is that a deal, then, Graham?” Freddie asked. “You gonna let me in? Or are you going to make me reach around you the old-fashioned way?”

           Freddie’s old-fashioned way of getting what she wanted often meant breaking the law.

           The silence held for a song and a half before she held her hand out to shake his, deliberate. Confidant. Will hesitated, staring at it. If he did this, there was no going back. He’d have to not only play, but play somewhat fair and somewhat by her rules that were more morally grey than his own.

           However, in the face of catching the Ripper, who was he to really complain?

           He shook her hand firmly, let go as soon as she slackened her grip.

           “I can’t go back into those hospitals until a different shift lead is working,” he said.

           Freddie’s smile was utterly vicious. “Leave that to me.”

-

           He left it to her and headed towards Lily Works. His watch beeped to tell him his steps for the day were exceptionally well: Keep Up the Good Pace!

           Lily Works was just about what he’d expected of a fine paper’s business. Small, classic windows with wrought iron décor and cream walls. Elegant picture frames housed still life paintings of vases with blooming flowers, and he stared balefully at a tulip in one such painting while he waited for the cheery desk clerk to find the manager. He was a little mad at himself for not realizing that of course Freddie Lounds would see that her stuff was missing, but details; if she could get him hospital records to try and find a doctor, he could get over it.

           “How can I help you, Agent Crawford?” the manager asked, stepping out. Her prim pencil skirt and sharp button-up was a direct contrast to the hideous plaid ensemble Freddie had visually assaulted him with at the coffee shop.

           “Thank you for your time; we’re currently investigating someone that we have reason to believe purchased a small package of letters with envelopes here within the last month or so.” Will found that with hair combed back and tie straight, he was adept at lying –not only adept, but quite convincing. He handed the woman the card Jack Crawford had given him, tucking his hands into his pockets. It’d been modified, just enough that the phone number on the card was his rather than the FBI Agent’s.

           “Oh?”

           “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, miss…”

           “Miss Nadine, please,” she said. Her pleasant face paled, and she glanced at the card before tucking it away.

           “Miss Nadine.” Will’s smile was pleasant, professional. Thin-lipped. “Do you recall by chance the purchase of a vellum blend paper by the name of ‘Florence Alabaster’?”

           “Of course I do,” she replied. Will’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at her lack of hesitation, and she continued, “I hardly sell it, so I was surprised. He came in with the name, as though the gentleman had looked at our things before. I didn’t have him on record, though, so he must have just known the color.”

           “Do you happen to know when that was?”

           That took her longer, and she puzzled over it as she went to a small binder and began flipping through it. A family owned store that kept track through writing, still, unable to quite jump into the 21st century with electronics. It meant she’d be more open to sharing information, though. She hadn’t even asked for his badge. She didn’t bite her lip or tap fingers, her concentration stealing away her energy to focus better on the task at hand. When she found it, she stuck her finger out beside the name with confidence.

           “Yes, Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Her mouth fumbled with his name. “Yes, that’s him. A month and a half ago, looks like.”

           Will tried to stomp down the excitement that made his heart rate spike. “Do you keep cameras?”

           “Yes, but I’d have to ask the owner to access it. He’s out of town until next Monday, so I can call you then and see what he says?”

           “Yes…that would be helpful.” He jotted the name down, his pulse climbing along his neck, stomping just at the spot under his jaw.

           He had a name.

           “Is there anything else I can do for you, Agent Crawford?” she asked.

           “No, this was incredibly helpful, Miss Nadine. Do you remember much about the gentleman?”

           “Quite polite, kind, and self-assured. He had a rather unique sense of style, I think, but you know customers.” She laughed a little. “Eclectic is our middle name!”

“Thank you.” He flashed her a brief smile, tucked his notepad and pen away, and saw himself out. As he walked, a quick google search brought up the name Hannibal Lecter, right in the Baltimore area.

           There was no photo, but that was nothing. What it did show was an extensive list of reviews for his work in psychiatry, as well as a major contributor to the Fine Arts Museum right in the heart of the city. No Facebook, no Tumblr, no blog, no Linkd In, but he had published several works in psychiatric journals that were well-rated. Will gnawed on his lip, reading each link, his pulse pounding faster and faster until he was near-running to expel it, skirting through the crowds of passerby as he exited from the browser and texted Freddie:

           Let me know the MOMENT you have what you said you can get.

           He just needed a cross-reference, something to tie the supposed Hannibal Lecter to any of the vicims, and he’d pay the good doctor a visit.

-

           He sat in Beverly’s apartment on the floor the next evening, surrounded by photos and articles. On one end of the couch, Freddie Lounds sat poised and unassuming, and on the other end Beverly was glowering with the fury of what he suspected to be near a thousand suns.

           He pointedly ignored both of them.

           “You said you had something,” Freddie prompted.

           “You said no Freddie,” Beverly snapped.

           He continued to ignore them.

           “This is a prominent figure in Baltimore,” he murmured. “He wrote an article discussing percentages of psychopaths within prominent societal positions and discussed their stigmas in society.”

           “So?”

           He turned, walking over to Mary Mai’s file, scooping it up. “Mary Mai, suffering mild depression and body dysmorphia, sought aid for the past year and a half under the care of a Dr. Hannibal Lecter, top rated psychiatrist within the Baltimore area.”

           “Ah.” Beverly’s face lightened at the connection, and she sat forward. “You traced the paper origins of the new letter, too?”

           “Recent purchase of one pack of Florence Alabaster paper at Lily Works by Hannibal Lecter within a month and a half.” He reached out and grabbed it, holding it up for inspection –just the envelope. He’d have rather killed himself than let them read the letter.

           “You don’t think the police will just claim it’s hearsay?” Freddie wondered. “Or mere coincidence?”

           “Investigative reporting, Lounds,” he taunted quietly. “I’m thinking that I go see Dr. Lecter under the guise of needing therapy for what’s happened to me as a result of this ‘avid fan’. I just need to get a piece of paper with his writing on it, and we can cross-reference it with the writing from his other notes.” If they were his. Will wasn’t quite sure how to feel about already giving this Dr. Lecter the blame and responsibility of so many murders. He should find an app to tell him not to jump to conclusions.

           “He’ll know it’s a trap if you show up,” Beverly protested.

           “Not necessarily.” He didn’t want to explain the therapists he’d seen in the past, paraded before him from the age of twelve and up. Lecter would take one look at his previous files and would know he wasn’t faking something.

           That, and if he was the Chesapeake Ripper, he’d have known about that long before he ever contacted Will.

           “You’d hear it from his voice, too,” she said doubtfully. “Why not just call him?”

           Will tapped a few icons on his watch and pressed play. A crackly but somewhat clear recording sounded on his phone.

           “Dr. Lecter’s office, this is Mariah speaking; how can I help you?”

           “Does Dr. Lecter allow for you to make appointments over the phone?”

           “He does, although it looks like his next available time wouldn’t be until next month, October 11th at four o’clock P.M..”

           “You know what, that works for me. My name is Will Graham.”

           He stopped the recording when it got into details, and he couldn’t help the small smirk on his lips at Beverly’s resigned expression. “It gives me more than enough time to have the column ready, as well as continue cross-referencing his ties to these people. The more evidence we get, the harder the hammer will drop on him, if that’s the guy.”

           “I’ve got a guy that can get me into the hospital that he used to work at, no problem,” Freddie assured them.

           “I bet you’ve got a guy,” Beverly said crossly.

           “Do you think he chooses out of convenience?” Freddie wondered. She unfolded herself from her part of the couch and wandered over to the circle of photos, files, and pages printed on regular, dingy printer paper. “Choosing your client seems a bit risky.”

           “He’d have access to her personal information,” Will replied. “He wouldn’t do that very often, but if the shoe fit, he’d wear it.”

           “A personality beef?” Beverly wondered.

           “An impulsive kill?” Freddie murmured.

           “What’d you say, Beverly?” Will asked. His head snapped up from reading the notes he’d taken on Mary Mai, gaze fixating on his friend.

           “…A personality beef?” She tilted her head at Will oddly, like he’d spoken in tongues.

           “What if it was?” he asked. “What if there was something about them that was odd, off, something about their personality that resonated with him?”

           “Or it could be a freak coincidence and it’s not Lecter. We’ll have to see the statuses of his other patients,” said Freddie. She knelt down by one of the photos and studied it. “If we could access that sort of information, it’d be easy to see a pattern.”

           “I’ll know more about it once I can see him in person,” he said.

           Despite not being able to get to an appointment sooner, Will couldn’t stop the thrum, the constant hum that rested alongside his veins, arteries, capillaries: he had a name. He had a name.

-

Dear Will,

What do you think about people with Dissociative Identity Disorder? Someone was found not guilty in the court recently under this whole ‘my alter-self killed them’ thing and I’m not buying it.

-Skeptical

Dear Skeptical,

I actually followed that case out of curiosity when it occurred because even within the psychiatric field, you’ll find there are quite a few doctors that are unwilling to entertain it as a real disorder. The notion that there can be multiple personalities within a mind is not unrealistic when there is severe trauma and abuse, much like what occurred with the person in question, Henry Atley. His disassociation from the horrendous abuse that began as a child manifested in personalities that arose in order to protect him, one of which continued in his later life to protect him in ways that were unseemly because it could not understand.

I think the struggle people have is that they compare a disorder like this with something much like substance abuse. A person that made a mistake while drunk will make excuses the next morning which may or may not be believed. The fact of the matter is, no matter how drunk we are, we are still considered to be responsible for our actions, no matter what they are because we are still ourselves in our entirety, merely far more lax with our inhibitions.

In the case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, though, there is a new self. You are unware of this self, and it has simple functions, a simpler self. You are in no way responsible for this person because you are not this person, nor can you control any aspect of them.

The more terrifying thought is that you aren’t even aware they exist.

Should you be responsible for their actions when you are unaware of their existence? Should you go to jail for a person that acted –by their own unknown thought process –in self-defense? You’d say no if such a thing happened to someone you loved. Don’t think of them as the drunk in the alleyway that attempts to steal your money, Skeptical. Think of them as the person that has endured an unspeakable horror and was not given the proper tools to move on from it.

-Will

A special thanks to my patrons: Hanfangrahamk, MatildaParacosm, Sylarana, Starlit-Catastrophe, Duhaunt6 and Superlurk! You’re the best!

[rapuvdayear]

1994: “Intro” The Notorious B.I.G. (Bad Boy/Arista)

Strap in, this is going to be a long post (even by my standards). Like, more than 5000 words long.

In the annals of rap history, there are certain periods that are just plain loaded. For example, between 1986 and 1988, Public Enemy, Run-DMC, Boogie Down Productions, the Beastie Boys, Eric B. & Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, Too $hort, and NWA all released absolute classics that not only redefined the genre, but have become touchstones for the rappers who followed them. 1992-1996 boasts a similar embarrassment of riches: The Chronic, Doggystyle, Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), The Infamous, Soul Food, All Eyez On Me, The Score, Ridin’ Dirty, and ATLiens, among many, many more. Smack dab in the middle of that run, 1994 was arguably the apex of rap’s golden era. In any other year, The Diary would’ve taken the crown as the best/most important album. But Scarface’s opus gets unfairly ignored because 1994 also saw two releases that appear on any serious (read: not trolling) all-time top ten list, and are perennially in greatest-ever discussions. I already covered Nas’s Illmatic back in April. And today, we celebrate the 25th anniversary of Christopher Wallace’s debut, Ready To Die.

Properly assessing Biggie’s impact and legacy is a near impossible task. No other rapper has burned as brightly for so brief a period. After doing a nine-month bid in North Carolina for crack dealing as a 19-year-old, he was featured in The Source’s Unsigned Hype column—back when it was the still rap’s undisputed publication of record—off the strength of a now-infamous demo tape, a recognition that also helped launch the careers of Eminem, DMX, Common, and others. Big’s come up after The Source nod was similar to that of his contemporaries, like Nas, in that he stole the show on a couple of posse cuts. But while Nas went the “lyrically lyrical” route for a time and, with Illmatic, made an album featuring a Who’s Who of boom bap era producers, Big’s style was harder to pin down. He recorded just two official full-length albums, and only Ready To Die was released during his lifetime; in fact, Ready to Die is now officially older than Big was at the time of his murder, a crime that is still unsolved (and if that’s not a depressing statement about rap, violence, and blackness in America, I don’t know what is). His debut was recorded at a time when the West coast g-funk aesthetic was dominant, and East coast rap still meant “NYC,” which was primarily divided into two camps: the Timbs-and-hoodies style of the so-called New School rappers who could trace their lineages back to the Def Jam superstars of the 80s and Queensbridge’s Juice Crew, and the more “alternative” and Afrocentric stylings of the Native Tongues clique (there was also Wu-Tang, who combined elements of both but were also just weird as fuck). Ready To Die, in this sense, is much more representative of the Timbs-and-hoodies crowd, but it also paved the way toward a much more introspective, darker style of rap focused on violence and material wealth in equal measures that would become the standard in New York for the remainder of the decade. It’s a gangsta rap record with a boom bap sound. And though Biggie was certainly no slouch on the mic—his internal rhyme schemes are complex, and his flow is versatile—he didn’t need to rap fast or sound like he’d memorized a thesaurus in order to distinguish himself, either. His greatest strengths were his lovable-yet-dangerous personality, bawdy sense of humor, and unparalleled skill as a storyteller, which he would showcase to even greater effect on 1997’s Life After Death. Add everything up, and it makes perfect sense why Big is remembered as one of the—if not the—best to ever do it: he emerged at the peak of the golden era, but was also an originator rather than an imitator.

The 2Pac beef, East Coast-West Coast war, and “playas vs. thugs” dichotomy in mainstream 90s rap have all been broken down in painstaking detail elsewhere, with conspiracy theories lurking around every corner (for anyone interested, I think that the best resource for understanding those stories and where Biggie, Pac, and LAPD corruption fit into it all is this 2001 Randall Sullivan article in Rolling Stone). Separating history from hagiography is tough enough in a culture that is built on braggadocio; no rapper worth their salt has ever “let the truth get in the way of a good yarn.” But Biggie’s tall tale/folk hero status is on a different level, arguably even more so than Pac’s, with whom he will forever be linked. Much of that is due to the fact that his career was so short and his talent so undeniable; as distasteful as it is to admit, Biggie’s legacy undoubtedly benefited from his early passing, leaving us with two outstanding, classic albums and a handful of loosies, guest appearances, and posthumous compilations that continue to fuel speculation about the heights that he could have reached. Just as Jimi never made an experimental jazz guitar album and Otis never made disco, Big never recorded Nastradamus or Kingdom Come.

In the final analysis, Biggie’s career is defined by death, but not necessarily his own. Many have observed that the title of his debut album, Ready To Die, was, in a way, a foreshadow of things to come, and that the second, Life After Death, serves as a chilling acknowledgement of what occurred just two weeks before its release. But on a deeper level, a careful listen to both records reveals Biggie’s obsession with death: what he sees happening around him, the ways in which he might die—possibly even by his own hand—and the unanswerable question of whether or not death is the end. Behind all of the jokes, tales of sexual escapades, and reflections on how enjoyable the playa lifestyle can be, at its heart Ready To Die is extremely nihilistic.

That nihilism begins with the cover art, which along with The Chronic is the first rap album cover I can remember noticing. Despite what Nas and Raekwon may think, Ready To Die’s cover probably owes more to Nevermind than it does Illmatic: Nas’s childhood photo laminated over the Queensbridge housing projects on his debut evokes nostalgia for his roots; Ready To Die, on the other hand, is a bleak statement about being born a black man in America. Here’s this cute baby with an afro and a diaper set against a stark white background, and we the viewers are invited to wonder what his future holds. In other words, the point is that every American black male is born “ready to die” because that’s what the statistics tell us (in actuality, the photo model is alive and well). As an 11-year-old American white male from rural Maine, this was completely lost on me at the time. Looking back on it now, I can’t help but feel goosebumps.

The cover also simply yet effectively communicates the album’s narrative arc, such that there is one. Ready To Die isn’t a concept album by any means, but it does chart the life of Christopher Wallace from the womb to the tomb, so to speak. The first sounds we hear on the intro are a heartbeat, a woman in labor, her partner urging her to push, and then a baby crying. The last sounds are of a gunshot, a body falling to the floor, a voice on the other end of the line pleading, and a heartbeat slowing to a stop. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go through it track-by-track; this is one album that is all killer, no filler.

Intro (link above): This is a classic rap album trope: the introductory skit that establishes where the rapper is coming from, sort of like a superhero’s origin story. Maybe this is symptomatic of having recently been listening to only mid-to-late 90s rap, but it seems to me that these sorts of intros used to be more common than they are now. There’s no actual rapping here. Instead we get something very similar to “The Genesis” on Illmatic, a mashup of different iconic sounds from “the culture.” Whereas for Nas it was an excerpt from Wild Style followed by a skit over that movie’s theme, Biggie’s intro is more personal, and more comprehensive in terms of situating him in a time and a place. It begins with Christopher Wallace’s birth in 1972 over the sounds of “Superfly,” followed by an argument between Biggie’s parents about his antics that turns quickly to violent threats while “Rapper’s Delight” (1979)—the birth of rap, officially-unofficially—plays, then Big and a friend discussing a plan to rob subway passengers set to “Top Billin’” (1987), and finally Big being taunted by a corrections officer as he’s released from prison and Snoop’s “Tha Shiznit” (1993) can be heard in the background (this last part is definitely pure fiction; Big’s only recorded stint inside was back in 1991). The point of the narrative is obvious, but the musical choices are also significant. Biggie was part of an emerging generation of rappers who could still remember a time before rap, but who also grew up alongside the genre, their lives’ milestones scored by a soundtrack featuring the likes of The Sugarhill Gang, Audio Two, and Snoop. By 1994, rap itself had changed several times over already, and with Biggie’s entry it was set to change again. This theme continues on the next track…

Things Done Changed: First of all, this is one of the few songs I can think of that takes full advantage of stereo sound as the beat jumps from right to left and back again before the first harmonies kick in. In college, my friends and I used to love driving around with Ready To Die in the tape deck and performing a ritual of sorts to this opening, nodding our heads and pointing to the speakers on one side of the car and then the other (Side note: after college when I moved to Prague, a group of friends rented a car one night for the express purpose of driving around the city and listening to this album in its entirety. We actually got pulled over when we accidentally found ourselves in a Czech police extortion trap and had to bribe our way out, but that’s another story…). “Things Done Changed” is exactly what the title declares: a mix of Biggie waxing nostalgic about the bygone days of his Brooklyn childhood and communicating the harsh reality of post-crack NYC. The “back in the day” rap is another trope, but whereas previous examples like The Pharcyde’s “Passin’ Me By” (1992), Pete Rock and CL Smooth’s “T.R.O.Y.” (1992), and even Nas’s “Memory Lane” (1994) all are accompanied by production that emphasizes the slow, sweet, happy remembrances of things past, “Things Done Changed”—with samples from 70s funk group The Main Ingredient—sounds downright foreboding. The message is that there’s no time to lament the past because it’s over and done with and the future is anything but certain. As if this point weren’t clear enough, the Dr. Dre sample on the chorus—“Remember they used to thump? But now they blast, right?”—and Biggie’s appeal to his contemporaries—“Motherfucker, this ain’t back in the day/ But you don’t hear me though”—eliminate any sense of ambiguity. There are so many great Biggie lines sprinkled throughout (e.g., “And we coming to the wake/ To make sure the crying and commotion ain’t a motherfucking fake”; “Back in the days our parents used to take care of us/ Look at ‘em now, they even fuckin’ scared of us”; and “The streets is a short stop/ Either you slingin’ crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot,” which incidentally was quoted in the cringeworthiest way possible in 2000’s Boiler Room), but one in particular stands out to me: “It make me wanna grab the 9 and the shotty/ But I gotta go identify the body.” A former roommate of mine always loved this part because it encapsulates not just Biggie’s moral dilemma, but in many ways the definitive contradictions of gangbanging and the drug trade: I’m so angry and in pain that I want to visit extreme violence upon the world, but at the same time I have to deal with the fallout of the violence around me in the most intimate of ways. Did I mention already that this album is nihilistic to the core?

Gimme The Loot: This song will always hold a special place in my memory. It was either this or Snoop’s version of “Lodi Dodi” that was the first rap I memorized word for word. In high school, my friends and I used to go out to the cross-country running trails after school to, uh, do what burnouts do, and more often than not would end up reciting “Gimme The Loot” in its entirety at the top of our lungs (I hope that we changed all the ****** to “suckas” or something…). Biggie voices two characters, both plotting small-scale robberies with grotesque levels of passion. For real, some of the lyrics for the album version had to be censored because, well, this: “I don’t give a fuck if you’re pregnant/ Give me the baby ring and the #1 mom pendant.” “Gimme The Loot” is also a perfect example of Big’s style: it’s played for laughs, but the subject matter is darker than dark. I like to think of this as a companion piece to “****** Bleed” from Life After Death—my all-time favorite Biggie track—which is about a much more ambitious robbery that is also full of jokes. In line with the album’s theme, “Gimme The Loot” ends with Big presumably dying in a hail of bullets during a shootout with the cops, “a true motherfucker going out for the loot.”

Machine Gun Funk: Ooh, this beat! As anyone who follows this account already knows, one of my favorite things about rap is how much great music I’ve been introduced to via samples. In this case, “Something Extra” by 70s funk band Black Heat. Easy Mo Bee, who produced this and five other tracks on Ready To Die, doesn’t get the acclaim of contemporaries like DJ Premier, Pete Rock, or Large Professor. But his bona fides are solid—coming up with the Juice Crew—and his work on this album is spectacular. As with “Gimme The Loot,” some of the lyrics in the second verse censored: “For the jackers, the jealous-ass crackers in the blue suits/ I’ll make you prove that it’s bulletproof.” This was, after all, around the time that NWA and Ice-T had provoked outrage—and FBI investigations!—for their anti-police lyrics. “Machine Gun Funk”’s overall gist is summed up in one line: “I’m doing rhymes now, fuck the crimes now.” In other words, Big is just as hard as he was on the ascent, but he’s transcended that life now and is making bank from rap. It’s another well-worn trope that’s become almost obligatory for rappers to talk about now.

Warning: Another funky Easy Mo Bee beat, this time with an Isaac Hayes sample. Biggie relates a story of being awakened early in the morning by a friend who has gotten wind that his enemies are plotting his demise (he also shouts out fellow Brooklynites M.O.P., which is a nice touch!). He demonstrates his capacity for catchy internal rhymes—“They heard about the Rolexes and the Lexus/ With the Texas license plates out of state/ They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown/ And they heard you got half Virginia locked down”—and penchant for clever metaphors—“There’s gonna be a lot of slow singin’ and flower bringin’/ If my burglar alarm starts ringin’”; “The criminals, tryna drop my decimals.” There’s also the continuation of the “ready to die” theme with a depressing statement about trust and paranoia: “It’s the ones that smoke blunts witcha, see your picture/ Now they wanna grab they guns and come and getcha.” “Warning” ends with a darkly funny skit of sorts that leads right into the next track…

Ready To Die: I mean, it’s right there in the title: this is the entire album in a nutshell. Big is defiant here and completely nihilistic: “My shit is deep, deeper than my grave, G/ I’m ready to die, and nobody can save me/ Fuck the world, fuck my moms and my girl/ My life is played out like a Jheri curl, I’m ready to die!” And why all the violence? It’s simple, really, a means to an end: “Shit is real, and hungry’s how I feel/ I rob and steal because that money got that whip appeal.” This Easy Mo Bee beat is appropriately eerie, too, flipping the organ from blaxploitation film score legend Willie Hutch’s “Hospital Prelude Of Love Theme.” “Warning” ends with Puffy reciting “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep,” similar to how he would start “You’re Nobody (‘Til Somebody Kills You)” on Life After Death with the 23rd Psalm: both are prayers about death and the afterlife.

One More Chance: This was one of the tracks that Big recorded during the second half of the Ready To Die sessions at Puffy’s urging. While Big allegedly didn’t want to make any concessions to commercial tastes, being the ever-calculating businessman that he is, Puff encouraged him to include a few tracks that weren’t just about robbing and killing. As such, the tone here is a little different from the album up to this point. However, it does give Big a chance to explore another of his signature topics and themes: sex, but in the lewdest way possible (I mean, he raps about shifting kidneys, shattering bladders, and “fuck[ing] her ‘til her nose bleed”). As my friend Jason pointed out to me recently, the skit in the intro is more interesting than it would appear at first, too. Ostensibly, it’s recordings of women on Big’s answering machine who he’s ghosted. However, the second caller doesn’t seem to be someone he’s slept with, but rather a female friend chiding him for being inconsiderate. Who knows whether this is meaningful or not, but maybe just maybe it’s a small subversion of the “g’s up, hoes down” mantra pervading rap? Eh, it’s a stretch. “One More Chance” was remixed and released as a single in 1995, becoming one of Big’s biggest hits. The original version is far superior, though, IMHO. Another minor note: verse 2 contains a cool shout out to Houston’s Geto Boys and the “Mind Playing Tricks On Me” video, complete with the beat switching up briefly to index that song.

Fuck Me (Interlude): A skit featuring Lil’ Kim. I usually don’t like rap skits, but this one is notable for making “Oreo cookie eatin’, pickle juice drinkin’, chicken gristle eatin’, biscuit fuckin’ suckin’ … V8 juice drinkin’, Slim Fast blendin’, black greasy muthafucka” into passable dirty talk. And that’s all I have to say about that.

The What: When Nas said, “My first album had no famous guest appearances/ The outcome: I’m crowned the best lyricist” on Stillmatic, this is the song he was talking about (well, either this or “Brooklyn’s Finest”… yeah, it was probably the latter). Given how rappers have stuck to the formula of paying for the services of more accomplished figures to drive interest in their debuts, it’s a testament to Nas’s and Big’s greatness that both Illmatic and Ready To Die only had one feature apiece: AZ on “Life’s A Bitch,” and Method Man on “The What.” With all due respect to AZ, no one’s mistaking him for a “famous” guest. Meth, on the other hand, had only really been famous for a couple of years at this point, but he was far and away Wu-Tang’s breakout star and would become the first group member to drop a post-36 Chambers solo just two months later. His participation here is also unexpected given the less-famous-yet-still-potent beef that existed between Wu-Tang and Biggie. Collabos and features are often underwhelming; either the guest feels like an unnecessary afterthought, or ends up “murder[ing] you on your own shit.” In this case, though, Meth is able to keep pace with Big and vice versa. Although his chemistry with Redman is legendary and their work together was super enjoyable, “The What” makes me wonder what a Meth and Biggie full-length would have sounded like. Easy Mo Bee laces the beat with the most stonerific production on the album, a laid back, fried melody that samples the outro to Leroy Huston’s “Can’t Say Enough About Mom” (1974). It works!

Juicy: It’s funny, this used to be my least favorite track on Ready To Die, entirely because of the chorus, which I thought was too “soft.” But now that I’m older, I appreciate its anthem-ness and the funky-ass Mtume sample. “Juicy” was, of course, the album’s lead single, but it was recorded toward the end of the sessions because Puff realized that they needed a radio-ready hit if Biggie was going to be a success. As a result, it’s the most discordant track on the album because of its uplifting tone, message of positivity, and nothing in the lyrics about death or dying. Along with “Things Done Changed,” this is the most autobiographical song on Ready To Die. And it’s chock full of quotables: “Time to get paid/ Blow up like the World Trade” (which has subsequently been censored in post-9/11 radio versions); “Spread love, it’s the Brooklyn way”; “Considered a fool cuz I dropped out of high school” (that one always resonated with me, haha); “Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis/ When I was dead broke, man, I couldn’t picture this” (which sounds hilarious now as far as stunting goes); “Birthdays was the worst days/ Now we sip champagne when we thirstay.” Also like “Things Done Changed,” “Juicy” is a nod to the past—the first verse is basically a list of 80s rap influencers—while signaling that a paradigm shift is happening; when Big says, “You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far,” he means for both himself and for the genre as a whole. He probably would have been a star anyway without “Juicy,” but its inclusion on Ready To Die definitely helped drive his early mainstream appeal.

Everyday Struggle: This anthem is still relevant today. They wouldn’t be brave enough (or stupid enough, depending on your perspective) to actually do it, but Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders could totally use this as a campaign song in 2020. The name of the game here is “precarity” and the choices people make just to survive. The sample, from Dave Grusin’s cheesy 80s jazz composition “Either Way” (1980), starts off in a vaporwavish muffle that makes the intro sound like a classic TV theme song. And then immediately we’re vaulted back into Biggie’s bleak, nihilistic take on contemporary life, and his suicidal ideations (a foreshadowing of things to come…): “I don’t wanna live no more/ Sometimes I hear death knocking at my front door/ I’m living everyday like a hustle, another drug to juggle/ Another day, another struggle.” The whole song is about drug dealing, but it’s not all glorification: Big makes it quite clear that a) violence and the possibility (inevitability?) of death are ever-present, and b) it is an endeavor that is fundamentally about preying on one’s community. As he puts it, “Baggin’ five at a time/ I can clock about nine on the check cashin’ line/ I had the first and the third rehearsed, that’s my word,” all of which is to say that he had a clear understanding of the temporal rhythms of government assistance, wage payments, and the financial habits of the unbanked. It’s less of a lament than what appears in other rappers’ odes to “the game,” but I think it’d be remiss to ignore his discomfort with being a participant in an activity that clearly destroys lives and neighborhoods.

Me & My Bitch: Woooooo, talk about a problematic song! This is Kevin Gates before Kevin Gates. On the one hand, you could make a legitimate case for “Me & My Bitch” being the most romantic gangsta rap song ever (which is saying something in and of itself). On the other hand, Big would definitely be cancelled in 2019 for this. The opening line is classic Biggie humor: “I’ll admit when I first saw you my thoughts was a trip/ You looked so good, huh, I’d suck on your daddy’s dick.” But it soon devolves into your run-of-the-mill rap misogyny: “When the time is right, the wine is right/ I treat you right; you talk slick, I beat you right.” It’s all a fantasy—AFAIK Big never had a romantic relationship like the one depicted here—that’s the textbook definition of “ride or die.” Emphasis on “die” because that’s where the song ends up (because of course it does, this is Ready To Die after all). At first, Big tells us, “And if I deceive, she won’t take it lightly/ She’ll invite me, politely, to fight, G/ And then we lie together, cry together/ I swear to God I hope we fuckin’ die together,” which say what you will, that’s kind of a sweet sentiment. But alas, he doesn’t get his wish, as his lover is gunned down by his enemies, collateral in a war against him. Again, his eulogy for her is also kind of sweet, in a perverse way: “It didn’t take long before the tears start/ I saw my bitch dead with a gunshot to the heart/ And I know it was meant for me/ I guess the ****** felt they had to kill the closest one to me/ And when I find ‘em, your life is to an end/ They killed my best friend.”

Big Poppa: Another of the more radio-friendly, Puffy-inspired tracks, and consequently one of the album’s biggest hits (and second single). This is also the closest the Ready To Die comes to emulating 1994’s pop rap zeitgeist as the production on “Big Poppa” is clearly g-funk, complete with a high-pitched synthesizer straight out of Dre’s toolkit. It’s quite the contrast with the previous track, going from “ghetto soap opera” to “big willie playa fantasy.” Overall, “Big Poppa” is solid club song. Also, did Biggie invent the “weird flex” with this line: “A t-bone steak, cheese, eggs, and Welch’s grape”?

Respect: This one’s a nod to Biggie’s Jamaican roots, and introduces another chapter in the autobiography established through “Things Done Changed” and “Juicy.” “Respect” features Jamaican reggae/dancehall singer Diana King on the hook and reggae-ish beat from Poke of the Trackmasters that interpolates KC & The Sunshine Band’s “I Get Lifted” (1975). Even here Biggie pushes the “ready to die” theme as he narrates his birth!: “Umbilical cord wrapped around my neck/ I’m seein’ my death, and I ain’t even took my first step.” Verse 2 contains some more reflection on the uncertainties of the drug game: “Put the drugs on the shelf? Nah, couldn’t see it/ Scarface, King of New York, I wanna be it/ Rap was secondary, money was necessary/ Until I got incarcerated, kinda scary/ … Time to contemplate, damn, where did I fail?/ All the money I stacked was all the money for bail.”

Friend Of Mine: Easy Mo Bee does it again! Another of my favorite beats on Ready To Die. This one’s mostly Biggie-style sexual humor, similar to “One More Chance” only funkier and more misogynistic. It’s Big’s version of “g’s up, hoes down” or “Scandalouz.” The double standard regarding male and female promiscuity is in full effect. Even so, there’s a cleverness to the lyrics; Big’s descriptions are just plain different from other rappers’ (side note: the same argument can be made for Gucci Mane): “I don’t give a bitch enough to catch the bus/ And when I see the semen, I’m leavin’”; “Now I play her far like a moon play a star.”

Unbelievable: Scoring a DJ Premier beat for your album in the 90s was basically confirmation that you were someone worth paying attention to. Nas did it with Illmatic, and Big pulled the legendary producer’s card for this, the final track recorded for Ready To Die. Premo even gave Big a discount, charging him less than his usual fee because he’d gone overbudget already! The sample, from The Honeydrippers’ “Impeach The President” (1973), is well-traveled territory in rap, having been sampled in dozens of songs already by that point. “Unbelievable”’s content is mostly just Biggie boasting about his greatness at all things. And you’ve gotta respect the audacity of sampling yourself, from another song on the same album, giving yourself props (“Biggie Smalls is the illest!”). Even without a clear narrative or any deeper message, “Unbelievable” is a showcase of Biggie’s range of technical skills from internal rhymes—“And those that rushes my clutches get put on crutches/ Get smoked like Dutches”—to sly metaphors—“I got three hundred and fifty-seven ways/ To simmer sauté”—and original adjectives—“car weed-scented.” Big and Premier would link up again on Life After Death for two of that album’s standouts—“Kick In The Door” and “Ten Crack Commandments”—but three tracks still feels like far too few for such a potent combination.

Suicidal Thoughts: Dear lord, what an ending! If you doubted that Ready To Die was nihilistic up to this point, “Suicidal Thoughts” leaves no question as to the tone that Big intended. This is my second favorite of Biggie’s songs, and IMHO his most poignant. I almost feel as if he invented emo-rap here, letting the listener into his tortured psyche in a way that only Pac and Eminem have even come close to imitating. I’ve written about this track and my fondness for it already, naming it my “rap of the year” for 1994. The overall concept is Big calling up Puff to deliver what amounts to a suicide note. As Puffy pleads with him not to go through with it, Biggie enumerates all of the reasons that he’s “a piece of shit, it ain’t hard to fucking tell” and why the world would be better off without him: his criminal escapades, his sense that he’d let down his loved ones, his lies and infidelity. The key passages: “All my life I been considered as the worst/ Lyin’ to my mother, even stealin’ out her purse/ Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion/ I know my mother wish she got a fuckin’ abortion/ She don’t even love me like she did when I was younger/ Suckin’ on her chest just to stop my fuckin’ hunger/ I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?/ Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies”; “People at the funeral frontin’ like they miss me/ My baby mama kiss me, but she glad I’m gone/ She know me and her sister had somethin’ goin’ on.” Additionally, this is one of the things that truly separates Big from Pac when it comes to their musings on death and the afterlife: while Pac rapped about heaven and “thugz mansion,” Big seemed convinced that he was headed to hell both here and elsewhere: “When I die, fuck it, I wanna go to hell/ … It don’t make sense goin’ to heaven with the goodie-goodies/ Dressed in white; I like black Timbs and black hoodies.” If “Ready To Die” was a defiant declaration, then “Suicidal Thoughts” is Biggie proving that it was no lie, that he is, in fact, ready to pass on even if it’s his own doing. The beat is handled by Lord Finesse—another boom-bap veteran—and complements perfectly the tension that builds until the final moments: the gunshot, the thud, and the flatlining heartbeat (the sample is Miles Davis’s “Lonely Fire” (1974)).

There’s no denying Ready To Die’s place in the pantheon of rap history. People can debate whether or not it and/or Big are the greatest ever, which is fine, but ultimately meaningless. What we have here is an album that can be enjoyed on many different levels. And even if it is all about death, as with any work of art, it will live on as long as people keep listening to and loving it.

[theghostsalontapes]

Pushing Off From Shore...

In June of 2016, my wife/bandmate Denny and I relocated from North Carolina (a lifetime home for Denny and a longtime home for myself) to Memphis, Tennessee. We renamed our musical project from Lost Trail to Nonconnah to reflect the move and begin anew with a fresh slate, and in honor of Memphis waterway Nonconnah Creek. We soon purchased a home on the outskirts of Memphis, in rural Fayette County, which came complete with a spacious former beauty salon attached to the garage. This was to become our new recording space, and to remark upon its former usage, we named it Ghost Salon. Now, in April of 2017, as we near the end of our first year of adjusting to new environs and friends, that space is ready for use.   As I’ve said in interviews and in person, the new Nonconnah album is going to differ from Lost Trail’s work in a number of ways. Nonconnah will be more collaborative in spirit than Lost Trail, bringing in a number of musically-inclined (and maybe non-musically-inclined) friends from across the earth, but especially aiming to utilize the diverse musical community in Memphis as much as possible. The work will still be thoroughly experimental, but less hemmed-in by particulars of genre; ambient and drone are beautiful shades, but there’s many more colors to paint with. Most importantly, this is going to be a large-scale, long-form project. No more churning out endless streams of music like Robert Pollard on a meth bender. We’re taking the time to carefully craft what we do, and it will take years to get it right, probably with a host of leftovers to show for it. This is an ambitious project covering a huge number of themes and sub-themes, and it will incorporate many visuals and writings as well as a (surely lengthy) collection of music. I’ll expand on the feelings and moods behind the album as the recording comes together. Right now, it’s all a drifting haze of half-built comprehensions, and who knows where these sessions will take us?  I hope to alter many of my ingrained work habits in this project, focusing more on the particulars of layering and mixing than in the past, using a wider array of instruments, and re-learning how to read notation as well as (hopefully) improve my piano and vocal skills. I’ve purchased a whiteboard for longhand idea scrawling, and I’m starting this blog as a way to document the minutiae of the album’s sessions as they come together (I’ve tried this before and not stuck with it, hopefully this time will be different). Denny will also be contributing more in the way of instruments themselves on this album, in addition to her field recording work. In many ways it’s still Lost Trail, but in many ways it isn’t. I think our best work is yet to come. So let’s begin.  Today, 04/12/17, was the first day I spent a considerable amount of time in the studio. I had planned to start the recording process in earnest the previous week, but an unfortunate accident involving a pitcher of lemonade and my Macbook Air meant I was delayed while a replacement shipped to us. Now I’m working with an older Macbook Pro, which despite its age I’m enjoying much more than the Air (it’s more solidly built, with more memory and a DVD drive). Here’s hoping it survives these sessions. I spent today rebuilding my guitar pedalboard, a tedious but necessary task involving much yanking of velcro and untangling of wires. I have a good dozen or more pedals in addition to the ones now on the board, some of them ‘nicer’ than what I put in place today, but this is what I’m feeling is right for the beginning of this album (I’ll probably change everything in a month or so, anyway). For example, there’s considerable snobbery in the guitar pedal world concerning Behringer pedals, but they’re ample Boss clones as long as you use them gently, considerate of their cheap plastic housing. I had hoped to upgrade all my pedals earlier in the year, but life expenses got in the way. So it goes. I’m nothing if not an old pro at making do with what I have available on-hand, and I’m lucky to have a wealth of plug-ins on board, as well. As in the past, I’ll mostly be using GarageBand and Audacity for tracking, and my Zoom H2, in an effort to keep things simple. I’ll experiment with other DAWs as time goes on, though I’ve never liked being overwhelmed with options. The new signal chain follows... JHS Little Black Buffer>Raygun FX Super Fuzz Boy>Devi Ever Rocket Mangler>Behringer Ultra Feedback>Digitech Whammy Ricochet>Behringer Space Chorus>Boss Tera Echo>Boss PS3 Pitch-Shifter/Delay>Behringer Slow Motion>Digitech Element Multi-Effects>TC Electronic Flashback Delay>TC Electronic Polytune 2 Mini>Alesis Wedge Reverb Module>Digitech Jamman Stereo Looper I always use a number of accessories in my playing as well, such as a bottleneck slide, a flathead screwdriver, an E-bow, a violin bow, a broken computer speaker, various tape machines, a portable shortwave radio, and various toy laser guns. On this album I plan to play - electric guitar, acoustic guitar, classical guitar, banjo, dulcimer, glockenspiel, piano, accordion, harpsichord, chord organ, electric organ (I picked up a Baldwin Fun Machine not too long ago), drums, synthesizers, drum machine, music box, wine glasses, lap steel, Marxophone, melodica, violin, yerbonitsa, mandolin, hand percussion, bowed cymbal, bowed tape recorder (I built one myself), theremin and voice. Others, and Denny, will contribute these and other instruments. I’m going to mostly leave it in folks’ hands what they contribute. Though I own a number of guitars and amps, and plan to use them all, my main electric for this album will be my Reverend Ron Asheton signature, and my main amp will be my Roland Jazz Chorus 60. This is what I mostly use live lately, and I think it’s a setup that I’m comfortable creating with.

Before sleep tonight, I’m going to begin the long and arduous process of going back through my ‘demos’ folder and picking likely candidates to be fleshed out into full songs (this is also new for me, I’ve never demo’d for an album before). Since early July of 2015, I’ve been recording bits and ideas and rough demos with whatever instrument was on hand, wherever I found myself (a friend’s ukulele while house-sitting in Carrboro, NC, a broken piano by the side of the road in Snow Camp. NC). This, along with collected field recordings from the past nearly two years gathered by myself and Denny, has swelled into quite a gargantuan of .wavs. Now it’s time to parse strong ideas from weak; I hope I’m up to the task of judging these snippets. Tomorrow I plan to at least test out the new Apogee USB interface I picked up, and see if it’s as suitable for line-in recording as I hope. If I’m lucky, I may be able to find some time to begin proper recording before the end of the day. I’ll keep you posted as to my progress. Until then! ZC  Listening to: Do Make Say Think - STUBBORN PERSISTENT ILLUSIONS, The Robot Ate Me - ON VACATION Reading: Stewart O’Nan - SNOW ANGELS (again)  Watching: THE PATH, Hulu

[meltedmagazine]

AN INTERVIEW WITH BEACH GOONS

    Hailing from the sunny beaches and immersed in the California skate pop scene, Beach Goons has managed to create a sound all their own while incorporating that sun-drenched California sound. From banging guitar riffs to percussion soaked bops, these boys are chasing the game. I had a chance to catch up with the trio and talk about their latest releases and career thus far.

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You did a cover of Spooky Blacks “Without You,” what made you choose that song to not only cover but to put on your album?

PABLO: To be honest, It was just one of my favorite songs at the moment and I sat in my room one day, blasted the song through my speakers, and tried to follow along on guitar. I figured I could make my own version completely and just went for it. It was almost scrapped completely, but the decision to put it on the EP was just because it was just really fun to play

Why do you feel it’s so important to connect with your supporters?

P: Well I try my best to respond to every single thing people tweet, ask, or send us mainly because it's cool to see people actually care about us and we thank every single one of you who even take the time to listen to us, buy merch, or come to a show. It's cool to talk to people who like your music even though you wrote it at 16. I just think connecting with our supporters is something I'll always attempt to do! It's just nice and something that shows them we care too. We care about those who support and show us love so we'll give some love back.

You have new music in the works, how is that going to compare to BoiSad and Beach Freeks?

P: Our new record, in my opinion, is pretty different from both BoiSad and Beach Freeks. We've approached this new record a whole lot differently than we've approached any other project in our previous years and we're really excited to release it. We put everything we had into this and really took the time to get everything to sound the way we want it to.

CHRIS: It's gonna be different for sure. Different influences on everyone’s part blended together more so on this release than on the last two.

DAMIAN: more experimental and a different atmosphere.

What was the process of creating a split album like and working with Freeks?

P: Working on Beach Freeks was really fun. We didn't really work hands on with Freeks since they reside in Canada so they did their recording up north while we recorded down here in San Diego at our drummer Chris's house. At the time it was only Chris and I in the band so we worked for about a week on the split. The recording was all over the place: we did the instrumentals at Chris's house, I did all the vocals in my room, and I even recorded a few things in my kitchen. It was overall a fun experience and we love our boyfriends in Freeks.

C: Pablo and I just recorded our half at my house so going into a studio all together for this next one was a step up for sure. 

What is the music scene like in San Diego?  Is there a pretty tight musical community?

P: A lot of people just assumed nothing really happened here in San Diego. Most people said there was no real community but what we were able to be a part of was pretty cool. There's about house shows every weekend or so and there's just always new local bands coming up. A lot of the San Diego local scene is mixed in with more than just music like art, film, photography, and even fashion. So I guess you could say we have a tight community down here.

C: The music scene here is just like being in high school except there’s music.

Is there a favorite one you’ve ever played? Do you think smaller venues add to the intimacy of the show?

P: Playing shows is always fun honestly. My favorite show would probably be playing The Irenic in San Diego only cause we were able to screen something behind us as we were playing. We screened the movie Blood in Blood Out. Playing smaller venues definitely adds to the intimacy cause you're pretty much face to face to everybody. We actually played an acoustic house show and it was a lot more intimate than any other show we've ever played it was a cool experience.

C: Favorite gig would probably be playing at a piercing shop, Dub C's.

D: I love playing shows and our first show at the New Industry is a favorite of mine

What is the story behind April 20, 1999? There’s no lyrics and overall the song is kind of mysterious, what’s the significance of the date and the song?

P: Well, the title comes from the columbine shooting but I'm not in anyway glorifying what the two kids did because it was fucked up and overall sadistic but it just started out as an instrumental I came up for BoiSad. I felt like this song was negativity, hate, and everything bad so I kind of just let it build to what I thought was in their head at the time

If you could live in any decade which would you choose and why?

P: I would probably say mid 60's but only to see The Doors live or early 70's to see Marvin Gaye because that would be tight as hell.

C: Way in the future, after the earth is destroyed and we moved to Mars. 

D: I feel like I belong in the 90s but every time I watch Dazed and Confused I wanna go back to the 70s. 

What's it like to be a musician in the 21st century?

P: I feel like being a musician in the 21st century is easy but also really hard. It's much easier to let people know about new releases or shows but any one with social media could start a band and I feel it's a lot harder to be taken serious. 

C: It fucking sucks.  

LISTEN TO BEACH GOONS HERE

interview by SAMANTHA SULLIVAN

[d00dt00nz]

Obligatory promo stuff at the top because it sucks and I hate it and let’s get it out of the way! follow me on twitter where I’m active, check me out on spotify for music, or like my facebook for sparse updates on music stuff. Thank you. The Cover art is by Ellie Tison

We're on the homestretch. It's just this song and a last one!

This song is one that I have a lot of feelings about, but it's a little bit hard to put them into words. It is probably the most self consciously “artistic” thing on this album, but I'm not sure how to talk about it so I'll just start off by going back to the beginning (actually a long time before the beginning).

At some point, I knew the album needed a slower, sadder song. I was really into the music of Randy Newman at the time and wanted to write something like something off of Randy Newman's Sail Away. I think that album sounds unlike anything. He just sounds so broken on there. It's got an incredibly minimalist arrangement [here I want you to increment a counter and make a nostalgia critic “bing” noise]. It's just strings and piano, and neither of them is playing anything too busy. It's got Randy Newman's tired voice over the whole thing talking colonialism, slavery, environmental disasters, and eventually how he's started to hate God. It's tremendously powerful and moving. Anyway in my hubris, I tried to do something like that and obviously it didn't work out so well. The arrangement was okay, and the chorus was okay, it just had really really bad lyrics outside of the chorus.

For a while I tolerated it, and it stayed on as an album candidate for a long time. Over time I became more and more unhappy with it. I re-wrote and re-recorded vocals for it a few times but never got a version that I liked. Still, I kept it in because the album needed a song “like that” on it. Things stayed like that for a few years until a few weeks ago.

A few weeks ago I was listening to a Beach Boys podcast at work. They were part way into their 15 hour analysis of Pet Sounds (that number is real). I was lapping up every second. Like many, I consider Pet Sounds to be one of the best albums ever recorded. I have 3 different remasters of it on my computer, and on my birthday I'll usually treat myself by doing a very close listening of the FLAC Super Audio CD version of it using a pair of expensive headphones and my DAW as a soundcard. I encourage you try something like that out. There is such an incredible sense of space and color in that music. It feels like you can move through the sonic ether and see each of the layers upon layers of incredibly dense music. It transports you to a different, much more beautiful, world. It's like heaven.

Obviously I don't really afford myself that luxury while driving around listening to hours and hours of podcasts at work (If I hear the phrase 'I heard this thing on a podcast' escape my mouth one more time I'm going to sew it shut). There's a ton of things to unpack though, so I really gotta recommend it. In this case, they were talking about the Pet Sounds song Don't Talk Put Your Head On My Shoulder. They played Brian Wilson's original piano demo of it and it stopped me right in my tracks. I had just pulled into the work driveway, but I was unable to leave the car listening to it. It was insanely haunting and insanely beautiful. I literally thought about the short clip all day. I don't think that Brian ever actually managed to outdo that demo, even with the recorded version. It's so simple but is filled with so much color and feeling. Every direction it goes is unexpected, but feels so right and natural at the same time. In a much larger sense of hubris than even before, I thought “oh man I want to write something like this”

That thought kind of simmered in my brain for some time. I was probably (very probably)“going through some shit” at the time. I think people get these really doomed lofty ideas when they're going through some shit. I met a guy at a party a few years back. His mom was a lawyer. He was a mess. It was late into the night (early in the morning) and most of the guys there were in the angry/paranoid/passed out stage. Me and him were on exactly the right amount of drugs to have a very friendly and sociable experience. My music was playing on the speakers. He kept telling me that it was fire. I kept talking about... well, I think I just kept talking.  The guy would later send me a text inviting me to what he called an “Andy Warhol's Factory style party”. The guy would later punch somebody's parent and disappear for a while. I don't know. I wasn't really friends with him. Anyway, what I mean to say with all of this is that I think we all get the urge to do something grandiose and insane when we're in a bad place. From my experience, it takes a lot of tempering and compromise to prevent it from becoming an “Andy Warhol's Factory style party”.

In this case I was lucky to be able to channel a lot of what I was feeling into lyrics. It was another instance of lying awake at night, rolling over, grabbing my phone, and just cranking it out (I'm talking about the song, not jacking off). These instances are like gambles. I always spend a while thinking to myself “is this going to be worth it?” because it ends up meaning you lose about an hour of sleep in the time you spend writing it – and ask my girlfriend, my sleep is sacred. In the end I was glad I wrote the lyrics. I ended up tweaking them a little to fit the meter of the song, but they're mostly as I wrote them.

Musically, I had a pretty good idea of how I wanted the song to go as I was writing the lyrics. At some point the next day I sat down and painstakingly pounded out the chord progression. My main goal was to write something that mixes up major and minor chords in a natural, but smart way (like Pet Sounds lol). I intentionally kept the arrangement pretty small (unlike Pet Sounds lol) so that you'd be able to hear the individual chord changes more. Maybe this was an ego driven bad decision. Maybe this was me exercising some kind of restraint. I still don't know. For the chorus section I got kind of lazy, I admit. It's mostly fine, I just think in retrospect it'd be really cool to have a sparse military snare doing little fills in there. I only thought about this after the song was finished, but I still think about it.

The vocals were done late one night when my parents were out (when everyone was out). I'd recorded saxes and backing vocals earlier on another song and was feeling pretty good. It's rare that I get a good recording session in nowadays what with work and adult life. I decided I'd take a shot at doing vocals for this. It was the last thing that needed to be done for my album. I recorded them sitting down, which is actually bad practice and something I don't usually do, but I thought maybe it'd allow for a more intimate sound and some more control over my falsetto. It took many many tries to get things that were on pitch, and I knew this song would be a wash if I wasn't extremely in tune most of the time. I was maybe a little bit more stoked than I should have been at the end of the process, but I'm still pretty happy with the melody. There are a few parts where my doubletracked vocal performances get out of sync and it kills me to hear. I really really hate it. When it works though, it works.

I think writing this song forced me to think in a more musically experimental way, which I've been slacking on for a while. I'm pretty happy with the result, and hopefully this will bring back some kind of drive to be a little more creative with my songwriting.

[pedalfuzz]

Hopscotch 2018: Pedal Fuzz Picks

The Hopscotch Music Festival is almost here! From September 6-8, downtown Raleigh, NC, will be electric with nearly-non-stop music. The Pedal Fuzz team scoured the schedule of over 120 bands for some of the acts we can't wait to see.

Our picks come from Dustin K. Britt, Melvyn Brown, Jon Foster, Eddie Garcia, and Tom Sowders. 

  H.C. McEntire - Thursday, 5:50pm (City Plaza)

I'm not going to lie or flatter myself: when I initially saw the Hopscotch lineup for 2018, I didn't recognize the name H.C. McEntire. I'd kind of slept on Un Deux Trois and Mount Moriah, even though when I'd hear them in passing they'd be added to my ever-expanding Mental List Of Things That I Definitely Need To Sit Down And Give A Serious Listen To Sometime Soon. But when I realized that H.C. McEntire was also Heather McEntire, from erstwhile mid-2000s Durham band Bellafea, I perked up pretty quickly: I loved Bellafea every time I saw them to the extent that I've considered peeling one of their old stickers off of a friend's bumper and keeping it for myself (sorry, Adam). Heather/H.C.'s new stuff is soulful and self-searching, and country-tinged in a way that avoids cynical, syrupy pastiche in favor of the authentic and sincere. I've now had a few serious listens through my headphones, but I can't wait to hear this stuff live. -  Melvyn Brown

 Real Estate - Thursday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I got into a fun fight with a friend a few weeks ago about whether or not "New Jersey sux LOL" is a lazy and unoriginal take (correct answer: it is!), and along with Walt Whitman and The Wrens, the band Real Estate was one of my main arguments on the Garden State's behalf. "It's Real" from 2011's Days is the cut that immediately made me a fan: the melodic interplay between the guitars, the rhythmic counterpoints and switchbacks from the bass and the drums, and the keyboard swirls all come together to produce a sound that's dreamy yet grounded, effervescent yet substantial, focused yet effortless. Martin Courtney's vocals wash cooly above it all, like waves over the sand on some idyllic Jersey Shore afternoon. The overall impression is clean, direct, and mildly euphoric, something like the mirror twin of a hangover-induced panic attack. -  Melvyn Brown

 The Flaming Lips - Thursday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

I turned my attention to The Flaming Lips for the first time after finding out that Blake Schwarzenbach of Jawbreaker loved the song “The Gash,” off of The Soft Bulletin. I checked that song out and loved it and put it on a VERY important volume of my personal mix cd series (I believe it was Stinger Vol. 13). Anyway, it became a favorite: so big and dreamy, like a sky full of javelins. Since then, The Flaming Lips have lavishly expanded indie rock into a colossal dreamscape full of giant eyeballs and lasers and feather boas, and I have still never seen them live. That’s bout to change, y’all - I’m eager to see what these fearless freaks do at Hopscotch. - Tom Sowders

 Deaf Wish - Thursday, 11:30pm (Slim’s)

I do ‘rock bands’ less and less. Whether it’s my age, the ‘been there done that’ sameness I so often encounter, or my compulsion  to explore ‘other’ sounds, I can’t say for sure. Probably all three. SO that’s why I find it goddamn significant that when I pressed play on the Deaf Wish song “FFS” (from a press release no less!) I listened to it three times in a row and sent it to a handful of friends. It’s got that Stooges snarl, the dissonance of Sonic Youth at their more aggressive early moments, and I bet it's going to smoke live. And every member of this Australian band takes turns at vocal duties, how cool is that? - Eddie Garcia

Thundercat – Friday, 7:15pm (City Plaza)

I first went to Japan in July 2000. It was a life-defining trip. In 2017, in connection with the college I teach for, I went again. The morning I woke up in Tokyo, I opened my window, and boiled some water for instant coffee. It was early. I looked out over the street. People were just starting to move around, starting to head to their jobs as the sun began to rise. The twelfth song on Thundercat’s album Drunk is “Tokyo.” Looking at the people from my tiny hotel room and thinking about the references in the song, both the song and the experience of being there again took on a new emotional depth. - Jon Foster

Grizzly Bear -  Friday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

The quartet’s records emit a throng of atmospheric noises coming from some unidentified dimension. Airtight vocal harmonies, instrumental experimentation, and psychedelic soundscapes are easy enough to capture in the studio, but can Ed Droste et al. deliver a sonically precise package live with adequate spontaneity and animation? I intend to find out. - Dustin K.  Britt

  Yamantaka // Sonic Titan - Friday, 10:00pm (Fletcher)

I never knew I wanted to hear a mix of shred / shoegaze / prog / pop but buddy was I wrong. And honestly, that’s not really doing justice to the melting pot of musical styles this band tackles. This experimental art & music collective swirls Buddhism with sci-fi while subverting the expectations of their Asian Canadian heritage. Their latest album is described as “the soundtrack for an unreleased Haudenosaunee- and Buddhist-themed Anime” From what I understand their live show involves much makeup and costumes and theatrical twists. I’m in. - Eddie Garcia

Shopping - Friday, 12:30am (Wicked Witch)

My wife introduced me to Shopping a couple years ago. We don’t always agree on what constitutes good music. That’s largely because I’m kind of a sad bastard who enjoys listening to the dreary music of other sad bastards, so that my own floating sadness can become inhabitable, and I can enter, sit down on a milkcrate, stay in there, stay safe and headphoned and probably wine drunk and blazed to bits. My wife prefers fun, cool music that ISN’T just an onanistic playground for narcissism masquerading as sensitivity. Anyway, it’s nice when we can land on a band that makes both our brains sparkle, and Shopping is such a band. Their music is like strutting with pointed toes on down a neon rainbow while LSD cartoons go dancing by in a great swirl toward the speaker at 174 bpm. I feel a physical need to get my groove on to their surfy, angular, rock ‘n’ roll dance music. - Tom Sowders

Moses Sumney -  Saturday, 6:40pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

An expert a cappella arranger, Sumney’s androgynous voice seeps from the record player like a cloud of blue incense that gradually fills every room and penetrates your pores. On stage, his breath pushes gently against the spiritual waters of the amphitheater, growing exponentially into a wave that soars far above the heads of the crowd and crashes against every surrounding building. I plan to submerge myself along with the rest of downtown Raleigh, willing victims of the Sumney tsunami. - Dustin K.  Britt  

Nile Rodgers and Chic - Saturday, 8:00pm (Red Hat Amphitheater)

Even when I was too young to understand the songwriter/producer/session musician nexus or to have any concept of a trademark sound, I knew that I loved "Le Freak" (Chic), "Let's Dance" (David Bowie), and "We Are Family" (Sister Sledge) because they all had some essential, incredible thing in common. Time passed; I listened to more music, read more magazines and gatefolds and liner notes (and frankly, watched a heroic amount of VH1), and I eventually pieced together that the previously ineffable common link between these songs and approximately a million others was Nile Rodgers. Seriously, you could get pretty lost in the weeds trying to chase down every recording he's had a hand in–I just found out, for example, that he produced and played rhythm guitar on my favorite B-52s track, "Topaz”.  Like the telltale trumpet trills of a Capitol-era Sinatra record or the twelve-string twang of The Byrds, Rodgers leaves his indelible but never overbearing signature on everything he touches so that even if you can't quite put your finger on it, you're glad that he already has. - Melvyn Brown

MC50 – Saturday, 8:45pm (City Plaza)

There’s no reason for this to happen.  The last time the MC5 were together, Richard Nixon was still in office. Wayne Kramer is the only original member playing, which should give music fans some reservations about why this is happening. There’s too many high profiled reunion tours that last too long and barely have any connection with the original music. Why would I want to see this band? The answer is easy, Kim Thayil (Soundgarden) and Brendan Canty (Fugazi). If those guys are in your “cover band” then they’re worth seeing. - Jon Foster  

Palberta - Saturday, 10:30pm (Slim’s)

The problem with having too many music fans on your social media page is that you’re inundated with new stuff. There’s always something to check out. Most of the time I feel that listening to new music is homework: I have to listen to everything, or I won’t pass some god-awful hipster test. Add friend suggestions and posts from music blogs, and you’re never really on top of stuff. I “try” new things constantly, clicking on a few seconds of a new song three or four times a day. Somehow Palberta appeared in my Facebook newsfeed like it would for any “hip” 37 year old. I loved them immediately. They were trashy, noisy, and complicated all at the same time. They’re the perfect antidote for well-orchestrated soullessness. I imagine two things might happen when I see them: either they will play a transcendent show, or everything will fall apart as soon as they hit the stage. I don’t know which I prefer. - Jon Foster

Yonatan Gat - Saturday, 10:30pm (Pour House)

The first time I saw Yonatan Gat, he was playing as a trio on the floor of Snug Harbor in Charlotte. Setup in a circle, the band had lamps with colored bulbs surrounding them. Gat would switch them off and on to indicate a change was coming in the (to my ears) largely improvised songs they were playing. Gat (who the Village Voice once named best guitarist in NYC) is a dexterous, dynamic player who eschews effects, save for a wah-wah pedal leading into a reverb soaked amp. And the band is a Hendrix-Experience-but-in-the-2010s ball of psych freakout, holding it down while creeping into catchy chaos. On the latest album Universalists, radical tape-splicing techniques were used in assembling the record; I’m very eager to hear how that fractured methodology takes shape live. - Eddie Garcia

Mind Over Mirrors - Saturday, 11pm (Fletcher)

Last year’s Undying Color was one of my favorite albums of 2017. The drone of Jaime Fennelly’s harmonium was elevated by propulsive rhythms, searing synths, and cascading mysterious vocals. The blend was intoxicating. This year’s Bellowing Sun I can only describe as a Steve Reich dance party. They describe it as, “a sonic inquiry into celestial cycles and the illuminating nature of darkness.” So see, you win either way really. My No. 1 pick. - Eddie Garcia

Sarah Shook & The Disarmers -  Saturday, 11:00pm (Lincoln Theatre)

Once a beloved pourer of libations at Chapel Hill’s (not closing) The Cave, triangle folks haven’t seen much of our hometown hero lately, and for a damn good reason: our queer country crooner is ruling the world on a major tour. Shook and company stomped through Charlotte in June to open for Willie Nelson, and now the Triangle kids are getting our turn. - Dustin K.  Britt

Grouper - Saturday, 12:00am (Fletcher)

I think I’ve established that ONE kind of music I like to listen to is sad, sad music. I think this predilection emerged sometime around the release of Use Your Illusion II by Guns N' Roses. “Civil War,” “November Rain,” me swaying in my dark bedroom with a bowl cut, you get the idea. Well, I’m not ten anymore, so I need SADDER. I can’t wait to stand before the unfurling sparkle of the sequin weighted blanket that is Grouper. I just want to feel it in my sad bastard body. I need a hit, man, and Grouper’s got the sad stuff. - Tom Sowders

Dustin K. Britt is a Durham-based performing arts critic and award-winning theatre artist. He is the managing editor of Chatham Life & Style and provides content for IndyWeek and Carolina Parent. In your spare time, you can stalk him on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.  

Melvyn Brown is a musician (Toothsome, Broads, NONCANON, Ladies Auxiliary) and writer from Greensboro, NC who is also passionate about the Four Ts: taking photographs, Thai food, technology, and thrift stores. His appreciation of Scotch whisky is not necessarily related to Steely Dan. You can follow him on Twitter, Instagram, or at generalclearinghouse.com

JON FOSTER IS A MAIL-ARTIST, TEACHER, AND PASSIONATE DEFENDER OF MATH ROCK. 

EDDIE GARCIA PLAYS GUITAR AND ALL THE PEDALS AS 1970S FILM STOCK. YOU CAN ALSO HEAR HIM REPORTING ON NPR AFFILIATE 88.5 WFDD IN WINSTON-SALEM, NC. IN THE WEE HOURS HE RUNS PEDAL FUZZ, WHICH IS A PROUD RECIPIENT OF A GRANT FROM THE ARTS ENTERPRISE LAB / KENAN INSTITUTE FOR THE ARTS.

Tom Sowders pirouettes angrily through the streets of downtown Raleigh. Like really aggressively, really windmilling his arms around. His hobbies are not using his PhD and fronting the band Toothsome. 

[musiccosmosru]

Jim O’Rourke is searching for a word he’s forgotten how to say in English. After more than a decade living in Japan, the experimental musician doesn’t speak his native language much anymore and warns me at the beginning of our interview that he may occasionally have trouble. He’s trying to describe his new album, Sleep Like It’s Winter, and he’s pretty sure the word he’s looking for is not “exhume.”

“Express!” he says after working his way backwards with an online Japanese-to-English translator. It’s a significant word. Pick nearly any genre and O’Rourke can express a deep knowledge, critical understanding, and sly humor. But generally, he likes to let his music do the talking. Curious about his thoughts on guitar rock? Listen to 2001’s Insignificance. Americana and folk? Bad Timing. Classic pop music? Grab Eureka — and if you enjoyed that Burt Bacharach cover on it, well, he made an entire album of them. His latest is being called an ambient album, but he sees it more as an album about ambient albums.

For many, O’Rourke is best known for his work with other artists. You’ll find him in the credits of records by foundational indie artists such as Bill Callahan, Stereolab, Superchunk, Brainiac, and Joanna Newsom, as well as experimental legends Faust, John Fahey, Nurse With Wound, Tony Conrad, and Keiji Haino. As a producer-turned-member of Sonic Youth, he was key to their 2000s renaissance on late classics like Murray Street. And of course, there’s Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, a record as much myth as music due in no small part to his presence.

None of those artists come up during our hour-long conversation. They’re other artists’ stories and O’Rourke prefers the sidelines even in his own career: Interviews are rare, live performances even rarer. Yet O’Rourke subverts the trope of the reclusive musical genius, and the last few years have actually been some of his most prolific. This spring, he released the 40th album in his Steamroom series. Though it started in 2013 as a place to put archival material, Steamroom has evolved into a sort of sonic diary. In 2015, he returned to Drag City with Simple Songs, a collection of hilarious, cynical, and immaculately recorded pop tunes, and he continues to make collaborative releases with longtime friends such as Fennesz and Oren Ambarchi.

During our talk, O’Rourke offers rare insight into works old and new — from Sleep Like It’s Winter to his legendary ’90s post-rock duo with David Grubbs, Gastr Del Sol, to his favorite lyric and the one record he wishes people liked more. Like his music, he’s sharply intelligent, hilariously self-deprecating, and leaves you feeling like you’ve only scratched the surface.

STEREOGUM: Are you at home?

JIM O’ROURKE: Yeah I’m at home in the studio, now that I have a studio.

STEREOGUM: I read you had to move your studio after the earthquake. How do you have things now?

O’ROURKE: When I lived in Tokyo, the second floor was where I worked, and the house got … it got kind of … you have to excuse me occasionally, I don’t speak English very much anymore. [Laughs] It became too unsafe to have the stuff up there. But I moved out of Tokyo just under two years ago. I live in the countryside where you can probably buy a block of buildings for the same price. I have something that is more like an actual studio now, although it doesn’t look like it yet. It’s still a mess. I’m about two hours outside of Tokyo in Yamanashi. It’s near Mount Fuji and all that stuff. It’s up in the mountains.

STEREOGUM: How did this new album Sleep Like It’s Winter end up on Newhere, which is a very new label?

O’ROURKE: I’ll make the long story short. The label Newhere, the mother label, or whatever you would call it, is this label called Felicity here and they’re the label that puts out Eiko Ishibashi’s records. I don’t know if you know her.

STEREOGUM: Yeah, I enjoy her records.

O’ROURKE: I’ve produced all of Eiko’s records on that label so I knew [Newhere founder Hiroyasu] Hirakawa from Felicity. So the other side of the thing is people don’t really use things like Bandcamp in Japan because Paypal is near impossible to use here and just the culture of download music isn’t really what it is overseas. People still buy CDs here. Everything’s about CD still. So he wanted to start this label and he was like, “People here aren’t hearing the things you’re putting up on Bandcamp and I want people to hear those things.” It would have ended up there otherwise, but I made it specifically for him. It wasn’t like, “Oh I got that thing I was about to put up on Bandcamp.” I did work on it for about two years.

STEREOGUM: Wow.

O’ROURKE: He said, “We’re starting an ambient label,” which got me going down the rabbit hole of conceptualizing the record for a much longer time than I usually would. Usually I give myself the problem to deal with, but the fact that somebody else was giving me a problem to deal with made it take quite a bit longer.

sleep like it’s winter by Jim O’Rourke

STEREOGUM: How would you say this album differs from some of the Steamroom releases?

O’ROURKE: I think the main difference was this certain stimulus, this problem that I had to pose myself was coming from an external source, which really made me feel on the hot seat more than usual. Also, that’s not anything I would have challenged myself with, like what the hell does it mean to make an “ambient record”? I wouldn’t. That would be something I would just talk about with someone or think about or make jokes about. But because I said I would do it, I actually had to finish it. I would say 80% to 90% of the things I do, I don’t finish, because I’m not necessarily interested in making something for other people to hear but that I’ve learned something from doing it.

STEREOGUM: You have an interesting way of approaching a genre too. When you look at Eureka or Insignificance, there’s a certain slyness to the way you’re making “a pop record” or “a rock album.” Did you have that impulse here?

O’ROURKE: Well in the end, this one really is the same thing as all those. I don’t know what the right word is because a lot of the words are very misleading — I guess it’s an album about ambient albums. Eureka was an album about pop albums. But for me the real challenge is how to do that and still for it to be that thing …

STEREOGUM: To still function in that genre?

O’ROURKE: How can it be able to be both? I really admire great genre filmmakers like William Friedkin, people who make these genre films that are simultaneously about [genre] but still completely succeed in being that thing. For me, that is the most interesting area. You can see when a genre filmmaker decides to make their experimental film, it’s almost always an absolute disaster because their strength is in informing the genre film conditions, the tropes or whatever you wanna say. If you try and do it directly it just completely fails. It has to be rooted in the language of what you’re working with.

STEREOGUM: Were you happy with the result?

O’ROURKE: I mean, I’m never happy, but it came out fairly close, more than usual. But I don’t mean that like I’m miserable — it’s just not why I do these things. If I wanted to be happy I would just sit and watch movies all day. [Laughs]

STEREOGUM: You also just hit number 40 in your Steamroom series. Did you have expectations when this series started five years ago? Did you think that you would be releasing up to Steamroom 40?

O’ROURKE: I didn’t think about it, because I would have been making the things either way. It’s what I do with most of my time. It’s just that I like the way Bandcamp works. There’s like 50 or 60 people out there who want to hear those things, and they listen to them and that’s great. I don’t have to get involved with the whole cycle, I just want the stuff to be there and then when I’m gone, it’ll get taken down and thrown away and that’ll be it. For me, that would be the optimal way to do things because by the time I’m done with something, it’s really way behind me. I’m honestly only interested in the work, in doing the work. And when it’s done, I’ve learned something from it and now I can move on from what I’ve learned from that and put myself in another screwy position.

The funny thing with 40 is, I was talking to a friend about one record in particular that I took a long, long time to make and is maybe the closest I’ve ever been to being happy with making something, and no one liked it at all, which is fine. And we were joking about it. My friend said he makes a track in ten minutes and people love it. So I decided I’m gonna see if I can make a track in exactly the amount of time that it takes to listen to it. And that’s what that was, and I put it up and of course, like my friend said, easily the most popular one that I ever put up. And I literally made it in the exact — I put a mic out the window, actually you can hear, they’re out, the cicadas here are year round. Can you hear?

STEREOGUM: Yeah, I can hear the birds too.

O’ROURKE: So that’s the window to the studio. I put the mic out there and then I played with a speaker outside so they could react, ’cause they do react to it. And then I just played for 40 minutes and I put it up. [Laughs] I didn’t even listen to it. Obviously I’ve been doing something wrong all these years.

STEREOGUM: How do you approach field recordings when you’re not just putting the mic out the window? Do you set out with your recorder to find something or is it more spontaneous and you just are trying to grab something that catches you?

O’ROURKE: I was really adamant when I was younger, in Chicago, because there were so many places to go to get sounds. I lived in an area where there were a lot of factories and stuff. And it was also the dawn of the first sort of really high quality portable recorders — before, you would need a Nagra or something really expensive. I don’t go doing it so much now because I don’t travel anymore really. If I went around where I live here all I’d get are these same goddamn cicadas everywhere, which is why they’ve been on the last six or seven things I’ve done, ’cause I can’t avoid ‘em. When I find something I wanna record I do try to make a point of doing it right. It’s now more like I’m looking for something that’s really special as opposed to when I was younger I was like gathering.

STEREOGUM: One of my favorite field recordings is the one you put on “The Seasons Reverse” from the last Gastr Del Sol record. You’re recording the kid lighting off firecrackers, and it’s a great sound, but then he notices and actually gets quite upset with you.

O’ROURKE: [Laughs] Yeah, I got yelled at once by somebody that called me a cultural imperialist for that. He yelled at David [Grubbs] and he said, “No that was Jim!” — which was true.

STEREOGUM: Gastr was so different from most of what got lumped in with post-rock at the time. That last album, Camoufleur, was released 20 years ago, so I’m curious what you think now about the project.

O’ROURKE: This is gonna sound weird, but we were fuckin’ great. [Laughs] We were! We were.

STEREOGUM: You were.

O’ROURKE: David and I were at a criss-cross point in our lives. I was like 24, 25 and all I was doing was making tape music and playing improvised music and he was a guy coming from his world of music, which was not my world, and we criss-crossed at a perfect point in our lives. I was someone who genuinely knew how to make tape music. That’s what my life was. So we met with his growing interest in that kind of music and his knowledge of things like Derek Bailey and I was getting more interested in finding ways to do what I did in other ways, besides making just straight up tape pieces. How could these things meet? And I think we — this is going to be a little roundabout …

STEREOGUM: That’s ok.

O’ROURKE: There’s a lot of so-called “avant-garde” pop and rock music and I absolutely fucking hate that stuff. It treats the other forms of music as sprinkles that you put on top of things. It’s not genuinely integrated into the songwriting, it’s not integrated into your choice of instruments. It’s just treated as like a stylish scarf draped around the neck of what is not interesting music. It really offends me, because my whole life has been about this other kind of music and it still is to this day. But I think what we did was absolutely genuine and was really an honest, true integration of those things, consciously. So I’m very — I don’t wanna use the P word, but I’m — I think it’s the real thing. So I’m very happy about that. I mean l don’t listen to this stuff, I don’t listen to stuff I’ve worked on, but I think what we did was better than people thought it was at the time. I know this is probably gonna be on print, but please somehow express that I’m not boasting while I’m saying this. I’m not boasting. [Laughs]

STEREOGUM: Eureka and Insignificance also have dedicated fans. Those are albums that were received one way and then, 20 years later, have grown to have a certain …

O’ROURKE: Well, I think because when they came out it was the height of that construct of that idea, this post-rock. And everything was seen through that prism. And thankfully that prism’s gone away and it’s like people, now they’re seeing things directly. I don’t know this directly, but I hear from friends, like my friend Glenn [Kotche of Wilco] who plays on all those. He’ll send me an email on occasion just like, “I’m in Morocco and someone just asked me to show them the beat from ‘Life Goes Off.’” So you hear stories, which is neat. I don’t know directly, but I hear from folks that people still listen to ‘em. Eureka, I’ve got too much on the record about my feelings about Eureka, I’m happy when someone says they like Insignificance ’cause that one came up pretty well considering how quickly I made it. And that one song, the lyrics still make me laugh to this day. The one where the guy dies in bed. There’s a line — “I sure picked a winner” — that I think is the best thing that I ever came up with in my life. If I came up with one thing in that life, it’s that line. It still makes me laugh. I know you’re not supposed to laugh at your own stuff, but that’s one that’s pretty funny. I’m waiting for people to like The Visitor. If there’s anything, that’s the one I’m hoping someday people will like because I worked really hard on that one. That’s the one I probably feel the most least uncomfortable about. That one got really close to what I wanted to do. And I learned to play trombone.

STEREOGUM: Really?

O’ROURKE: I had to. I went like a year and a half trying to avoid it because I knew it had to be a trombone part but I was like, “Oh, I can’t play trombone.”

STEREOGUM: You played every instrument on that record.

O’ROURKE: Yeah, I played everything. That was sort of the challenge.

STEREOGUM: What was the challenge for Simple Songs, which had a whole band?

O’ROURKE: There was no challenge. It was guilt, because I’d made these people go through this record I don’t know how many times over five years. So I felt obligated to put it out because they had put so much of their time into it. [Laughs] Yeah, I’m still not far enough away from that one to be objective.

STEREOGUM: What was the experience like performing it live for those few shows?

O’ROURKE: That was horrible. I never wanna play live again. Everyone who played was great of course, but I’ve seen video of it. You can see how fucking terrified I am in my left hand. I think it’s maybe the beginning of “Hotel Blue,” my hand is freaking out. I do not like playing in front of people. It’s fine if they’re not looking at me. I’m fine when I’m playing for someone else or in somebody’s thing I have no problem. But if they’re looking at me, I’m terrified. Glenn and Darren from the old band will vouch for this. I mean, I would throw up after shows. It just terrified me.

STEREOGUM: A lot of people don’t realize you taught the kids in Richard Linklater’s 2003 movie School Of Rock.

O’ROURKE: Yeah, I taught them how to play, I taught them the songs, because except for one scene, that’s actually them playing. So for those scenes I’d be on set to keep the music part off of Mr. Linklater’s mind, sort of on the side music-directing, you know? That was a fun experience. I was supposed to be in the movie, but there was a Sonic Youth tour during the shoots so I couldn’t go back to do it.

STEREOGUM: Who were you supposed to be?

O’ROURKE: I don’t think I would have had a line or anything, they said they were gonna have me be one of the judges, you know sort of like a little in-joke, but it ended up that when they were shooting those scenes I wasn’t even gonna be in New York.

STEREOGUM: You’ve collaborated with so many accomplished musicians — what was it like suddenly working with kids?

O’ROURKE: It wasn’t like a music job at all, it really was a film job. I mean, the fun part was getting to be on set, meeting Mr. Linklater. If you get me talking about film you can’t shut me up, so I probably was annoying, but talking to the crew, just asking them technical things and talking to them about their jobs was really fun. I generally don’t like being around kids, so that was interesting. The kid who played guitar and the kid who played keyboards, they were really nice and genuinely very talented. I liked working with those two a lot. It’s funny because the guitar player kid [Joey Gaydos, Jr.] kept asking me, “Man, I want one of your records.” And I was like, OK. So actually the last day I saw him, they were at that place where they, the last scene where they’re playing at the, what do you call it?

STEREOGUM: A battle of the bands?

O’ROURKE: Yeah, they were setting up and it was my last day before I had to go on tour, and I brought a copy of Insignificance on CD for him. And I handed it to him and then I looked at the cover and remembered the pictures inside. And I said “Hey, you know what, I’m gonna sign this or something for you and get it back to you later.” And I took it back and then I left and went on a plane and never saw the poor kid again. But oh my god, if he had opened that, the parents and the film. They would have gotten sued or something.

//

sleep like it’s winter is out now via Newhere.

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[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: Homebrand’s “Shelf” Launch Show

In which Homebrand launch "Shelf", HQ's security give up, and we quote a lot of people.

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and I've nearly broken my neck head-banging on numerous occasions. I don't know if I should be extremely proud or concerned about that...

I also take photos of awesome bands playing awesome music for awesome crowds at awesome venues with not-so-awesome lighting.

Speaking of awesome bands playing awesome music for awesome crowds at awesome venues with not-so-awesome lighting, a few Fridays ago, I found myself photographing Homebrand's "Shelf" launch show at HQ. (I really need new venues... but y'know, everything else is 18+ and-*rants about the lack of U18 shows in Perth and what that's doing to the economy and mental stability of numerous teens*.)

This October, I had two goals: photograph a show, and have that show be on my birthday. After a disappointing September that only featured a cancelled Placebo shoot, I was desperate for anything. Luckily, I got to cover this outstanding launch to make up for the dead month. It wasn't on my birthday, but it was the day before and that's close enough.

But let's take it back a step.

T'was the day before the show and I still had no confirmation of whether or not I'd be shooting. For the record, this wasn't an extreme bother, though replies were (and still are) greatly appreciated. Along with forty-eight hour notice whenever possible. Regardless, I was at Myer with my uncle and they were playing Safia's "My Love is Gone" through the speakers. So to rephrase, I was at Myer with my uncle, attempting - and failing - to not dance around like a headless emu.

As we were searching for a birthday present, I had four words on loop: "minimalism", "lenses", and "not applicable". That is:"Hey, we should get this!""Minimalism.""Well what do you want, then?""Lenses.""Where's the minimalism there?""Not applicable."

We soon figured that the only way to settle the dilemma was to visit my very extremely amazingly fabulously good friend and potential sponsor, JB HI-FI, and splurge a decent amount of cash on vinyl. Second best to camera gear, right? Two Panic! at the Disco and one Five Finger Death Punch record later, we left to visit my arch nemesis: Camera House.

Oh, the horror...

*Violent flashbacks of Supposed Manager, his arrogance, sighs, and complaints.*

Now, it's probably worth noting that my uncle had no clue of the troublesome past I had with the store, and I hoped for it to remain that way. You may be in the same boat, completely unsure of what the hell I'm on about. Perhaps you ought to check out the

With Confidence story

: i

t's 90% the Return of the Lens and 10% With Confidence. And if you don't know what the Return of the Lens refers to, you should probably read the

Why Even Try story

. All these posts are quintessentially related and if you find them somewhat interesting, I highly suggest reading them in order to avoid complete confusion. Or you could just not read them at all, which I'm sure most of you are resorting to.

Nevertheless, I dragged myself in, head down and regret kicking in. Already missing JB HI-FI, I searched through the limited racks, hoping to locate that goddamn Nikon backpack. Background info required? Yeah. Here's the general gist of it: my grandmother told me to choose a new gear backpack that'd make shooting easier, and that my uncle would take me to purchase it on behalf of her. However, my lazy ass couldn't be bothered researching this thoroughly enough, and, as a result, the only store that I knew had this specific one was Camera House. Thus our current situation.

Unsurprisingly, it was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Supposed Manager was also nowhere to be found. We asked an employee and they confirmed that it wasn't in stock, and that we had to go check in Leederville. And so we did, only to be told that they didn't have it either. So I settled for something different (though freaken amazing), a Lowepro with some fancy lettery-numbery title that I cannot be bothered typing. Oh, by the way, Lowepro: if you're looking for someone to sponsor, you should probably consider this random photographer in Perth, Western Australia... I hear they're pretty awesome... and desperate as all hell.

Lowepro: *Sponsor Chris Kerr.*

Now let's all take a moment to cry at how accurate that is (besides the fact that he isn't desperate). Let's take another moment to admire Chris' work.

But there's your daily life lesson: not all photographers hate each other! I mean, he has no clue as to who the hell I am, though that's not the point.

Anywho, this is the part where I compare Camera House's service to JB HI-FI's and say that JB always has everything in stock - or can order it in within a week. This is also the part where I just get along with the bloody story, for I can imagine how bored you are.

All that was just there to increase my sponsorship opportunities - or lack thereof - and include a CH complaint.

So on with the tale:

That evening, I went from maybe shooting Homebrand to not shooting to booked (thanks, Shedhead!). However, when I gained the pass, I completely forgot to ask something rather important: "Could ya please add me to the door list?"

It's not that the tickets were expensive or that I'm an extremely cheap person (even though I am). Soon after photographing my first ever show, I was googling the industry and came across a video by Adam Elmakias, my all-time favourite photographer. To paraphrase, he said: "You shouldn't buy a ticket if you're there to work." And he's right; if this is your job - or a hobby that you're hoping will become your job (your mission, to reference The Minimalists) - you pay for your transport, Grill'd stopover, and gear (though that's taxable), but you don't pay to be at the workplace, regardless of whether that's an office or concert venue. I made that mistake with the first pass I earned.

It's pretty obvious but just to be clear, this was not the band's fault. Whatsoever. They've got way more important things to be focusing on, and it's not their job to remember things that I haven't even mentioned.

You can probably imagine when I realised I hadn't told them; at the venue, when the employee guy was checking the door list.

Guy: *Flicking through* Yeah, uhm... you're not on here...

Me: What?

Me to myself: Oh, shit...

That other voice in my head: Fucking hell, Sky, you're a fucking idiot! How the fuck did you fucking forget to fucking mention the fucking listy-thingy, for fuck's sake?! You fucking fuckwit!

Guy: Do you wanna check with the band?

I looked around, attempting to locate Shedhead, though my lack of luck that ensured that nobody was around. (Again, not their fault; I'm a fucking fuckwit, remember?) Guy was growing slightly suspicious.

Guy: ...You do know who they are, right?

Me to myself, sarcastically: Nah, mate, only heard of them this morning. Me: Yeah?

Guy: I'll go see if they're out front.

Ten minutes later, we were in. Another ten minutes later, the first band was up. Coincidentally, t'was Shedhead.

If there's one thing all these bands have in common, it's that they're blatantly and exuberantly experimental and honest in their presence and music. I could attempt to make them sound elegant and sophisticated, but as the Dune Rats say, The Kids Will Know It's Bullshit. There's a lot of quoting going on today...

With that said, you're there to headbang, throw your friends at other friends' faces and to have a good time. It's thrashy, punk, satirical rock - or whatever genre they classify as - and it's unapologetic.

Shedhead was a prime example of this. With more talent than Fuelled by Ramen have signed in recent times (I'm looking at you, post-Don't Panic All Time Low) and a fanbase as dedicated as BTS', these dudes truly know how to rock out. ("Rock out"? Sara, what are you, sixty?)

Their songs are wonderful, they're great people, and they've got jams.

Now all they require is a deal with a neat lil' record label, preferably not FBR, and they're all set. And while we're on the topic of deals with neat lil' places, JB HI-FI should send that sponsorship contract my way soon...

Intermission.

Dance, dancing their way to the stage was Mango Tango, a hyper yet calm and collected band with a set list of hits. From the moment they played the first note, everyone was dying to be the John Travolta to their Uma Thurman. Their EP was only a few weeks old, yet the entire crowd knew each and every lyric off by heart, screaming incredibly out of tune and deafening my mother. But they were having a wonderful time and that’s all that counts.Their energy, enthusiasm, and always-high appearance are what stick with people well after the show. The band is extremely dedicated to their music, and it’s noticeable in their performances. With memorable sets and one hell of a catchy name, they’re sure to gain international success.

Unfortunately Kosta was slightly late to the party, arriving around the last song. This has nothing to do with him but anyway.

Intermission.

I remember those good ole’ days, long, long, ago, back at Mount Lawley Senior High’s 2016 Arts Expo, when a young band took to the stage. They were surrounded by friend-fans and teachers, lead by a shorter-haired Griffin and were missing a Harrison Larke (or was he there? I’ve no clue; it’s been a while). They were Sky's first glimpse into the local music scene. Their lead single was – and I’m pretty sure it still is – “Control”, and they earned disturbed expressions from Mr Butcher and Mr Camilleri. The crowd loved them; with each riff, octave, and any other musical word, everyone was falling more and more for the boys from JAG.

Over a year later, little has changed.  The dudes rocked out to another crowd of friend-fans, though not all were from Mount Lawley. Griffin’s hair was longer than mine, Larke was in business, and I could sense Mr Butcher and Mr Camilleri’s disturbed expressions from a mile away. “Control” blasted through the speakers and each riff, octave, and any other music word saw the audience fall more and more for the boys from JAG.

But they’d improved. They’d improved their material, their presence, and most importantly, their happiness. They seemed more content; they could say what they wanted to whom they wanted, without seething dudes in suits threatening to give them detention. This is what makes them one of the best local bands; they’re passionate about their music, stick to their humble roots, and do whatever the fuck they want.

Speaking of doing whatever the fuck they want, up next were our headliners, Homebrand.

From the first note, everyone went wild. And I mean Fight Club on acid wild; everyone was headbanging against each other, Jared Leto was crowdsurfing, Bob was crying and hugging someone whilst trampling somebody else, Marla was smoking a cig’ up the back, and Tyler Durden was fighting himself in the parking lot.

Their music was great – but that’s not what we’re here for. Well, I suppose we ought to include a fancy review of “Shelf”:

“It’s fucking wonderful.”

Sky, we said fancy.

Oh, right… How’s this:

“Homebrand have revived themselves and the scene with this song, achieving preposterously eargasmic riffs and other complex musical shizzle. The post-Mixed Signals era is set to become huge, and will hopefully see everyone stop screaming “PLAY INSOMNIA, YOU FUCKS!” and replace it with the lyrics of “Shelf”, which will inevitably lead to Daryl needing to display less inappropriate gestures onstage.”

Close enough to fancy.

But like I said, their music wasn't what we were there for: what truly stood out about their performance wasn't actually the band - don't get me wrong, they killed it up there - but HQ's reaction and plan to having Homebrand play was absolutely priceless; especially when they failed to execute their ideas.

You see, this band - and its fans - are known for the insanity they cause. It's their brand. Their Homebrand. (I'll stop...) They are there to demolish everything. They are going to break something or someone. Nobody just "shows up" without knowing what they're getting into; and if they do, they don't walk out with all their limbs in tact. There is headbanging, and I don't mean normal headbanging; I mean worse than me in my room on a Saturday evening whilst listening to Cannibal Corpse headbanging. If you're not crowdsurfing, your friends will lift you the fuck up and force you to crowdsurf. There are no "sidelines". There's no calming down. You either grab the person next to you by the neck and swing them around mercilessly or leave. And the best part? Everyone is still friends with everyone else and there are no hard feelings. Or so I'm lead to believe.

As a photographer, I couldn't ask for anything more. Okay, perhaps HQ could upgrade their lighting system and get rid of those godawful reds. But this is exactly what we're there for, and I freaken love it.

And that, my dudes, is why Homebrand is Perth's best live band. (No offence to all the other bands, all of whom I love dearly, but you can't compete with these guys.)

HQ, however, doesn't share my views. They knew this was going to happen, that personal spaces would be no more and that their speakers would be destroyed, so they employed crowd control.

Be right back, I'm just going to go laugh hysterically for a few hours.

Crowd control? What the hell was the point? All they did was piss off the dudes in the front row. Nobody could "control" these guys. They were there to be a destructive wreck and have an incredible time, and that's what they did. Had HQ seriously considered that a couple of guys in fancy uniforms - one of whom doubled up as a photographer - could change that? Nope.

"Stop that!"

"Ma'am, get off the speaker."

"PUT THEM DOWN THIS INSTANT, GODDAMNIT!"

"I said... sTOP IT!"

"How much are we getting paid for this again...?"

Get a reality check, mate. The only good that could come out of their little visit was if they managed to avoid getting kicked in the face - then the venue could avoid legal fees.

Not too long after, the set was over and those sorry security guards could go catch their breath.

And that was that. Up next: Alice Cooper at Perth Arena. (Spoiler alert: I lose my photo pass and have to shoot with my phone. It's quite the evening.)

MUSICAL SUMMARY:

Shedhead: The kids will know their music isn't bs/5 Mango Tango: Energetic fruit loops/5 JAG: I’ve got your yearbook photos/5 Homebrand: What is crowd control/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY:

Lenses: better than the 85mm/5

Camera: again - not allowed to complain/5

Lighting: the reason I've lost all hope in humanity/5

Editing: best way to spend my birthday/5

My sanity: no English/5

Check out all the awesome bands:

Shedhead

Mango Tango

JAG

Homebrand

Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate

[chorusfm]

No artist has ever had a success story quite like that of Chris Stapleton. Two years ago this week, Stapleton released his debut album, a 14-track collection of old school country, blues, southern rock, and soul called Traveller. The album didn’t arrive without buzz: Stapleton was one of the most dependable songwriters in Nashville, a guy with (at the time) four number one country hits to his name. He also made his record with Dave Cobb, the producer who had helped Jason Isbell and Sturgill Simpson craft breakthrough, critically-beloved albums the two years previous. The result was a number 14 debut on the Billboard 200 with 27,000 copies sold; not remarkable, but not bad for a debut artist, either.

For the next six months, it looked like Traveller was destined to become a cult classic. Country music websites—from Rolling Stone Country to Taste of Country to Saving Country Music—unanimously called it the best record of the year at mid-year. Country radio, meanwhile, ignored it, leaving the album without much in the way of mainstream traction. But then November 4th happened, and Stapleton swept the biggest awards at the annual CMA Awards. He also shared the stage with Justin Timberlake for a thrilling two-song live performance that almost instantly went viral. The combined exposure of the award wins and the most buzzed-about televised music performance of the year gave Stapleton an unprecedented 6,000% boost in album sales. He not only re-entered the Billboard 200, but Traveller leapfrogged everything else on the market to take the top spot. No other album in the history of the Billboard 200 has ever re-entered the chart at number one.

Country radio still couldn’t be bothered to play Stapleton much after that, but it didn’t matter. A Grammy nomination for Album of the Year followed, and by February 2016, Traveller had gone platinum. Currently, the album is pushing two million copies and shows no signs of slowing down. It was the top selling country album in 2016 and one of the top-five best-selling albums in any genre. At the time of this writing, Traveller is at 33 on the Billboard 200—seven slots ahead of Adele’s record-smashing 25.

Needless to say, albums don’t arrive with much more anticipation than From A Room: Volume 1, Stapleton’s sophomore album and the first piece of a planned double album. (Volume 2 is slated for a release around Christmas.) When he released Traveller, Stapleton had the luxury of being a best-kept secret. Everyone in Nashville knew he had the songs, the chops, and the voice to be a star, but people outside of Nashville songwriting circles mostly didn’t have a clue who he was. On From A Room, Stapleton is no longer a secret on any level. Instead, he has the challenge of making a record that lives up to a surprise sales juggernaut—one that was universally beloved by pretty much everyone, country fans or otherwise. That’s not an easy position to be in.

But here’s the thing: Stapleton still has the songs. He’s still got the chops. And holy mother of god, he still has the voice. “Seen my share of broken halos/Folded wings that used to fly/They’ve all gone wherever they go/Broken halos that used to shine,” he sings at the very outset of track one, just a single acoustic guitar chord beating him to the speakers. It’s a smart move: as good as Stapleton’s band is, and as solid as his songs are, his voice is what won him those awards, set the world on fire with that Timberlake performance, and turned Traveller into a workhorse. His big, epic baritone both sounds instantly country and doesn’t sound quite like anything else in country music, past or present. Weaned on whiskey and too many weather-worn miles on a dusty highway, Stapleton’s voice has just enough grit to carry the more rock-driven numbers and just enough honey to make you feel every ounce of his regret during the somber ballads.

Both types of songs appear on From A Room: Volume 1. “Broken Halos,” the aforementioned opening track, is somewhere in between, a road-trip-ready anthem not so far removed from the title track (and album opener) from the last record. Track two doubles down on the somber, with a gorgeously aching cover of the Willie Nelson classic “Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning,” while track three, “Second One to Know,” is a barnstorming scorcher with a ripping guitar solo. Just like that, three songs in, we’ve gotten a glimpse of Stapleton’s three main modes.

If From A Room: Volume 1 deserves a criticism, it’s that Stapleton doesn’t travel very far outside of his wheelhouse. After making their breakthrough records with Dave Cobb, both Jason Isbell and Sturgill Simpson fleshed out their sonic palettes and went in different directions. (Sturgill’s post-breakthrough album was especially radical, drenching everything in horns and strings, and causing some country purists to lambast him for making a record that “wasn’t actually country.”) All nine of the songs that make up the first installment of From A Room would have fit pretty comfortably on Traveller. In fact, the biggest departure is that whiskey, Stapleton’s favorite lyrical theme on the first record, doesn’t turn up once on From A Room.

Frankly, though, it’s good to hear Stapleton doubling down on the spartan classic country sound that made Traveller such a classic. At this point, Stapleton can sell out arenas and play stadiums alongside legends like Tom Petty, but you won’t hear any traces of arena country in these songs. On the contrary, most of From A Room: Volume 1 is made up of barroom country ballads, left sparse and gimmick-free thanks to Dave Cobb’s no-bullshit production. Most of the songs end up sounding like they were written for dive bars or half-empty clubs—though they will inevitably sound just fine echoing through huge arenas and amphitheaters this summer and fall.

Case-in-point is “Either Way,” a legitimately breathtaking song built from nothing other than Stapleton’s voice and a steadily picked acoustic guitar. The song isn’t new: country singer Lee Ann Womack cut it back in 2008, for a much more mainstream-sounding version. Like “Whiskey and You” from the last record (which was originally recorded by Tim McGraw), Stapleton went back through tunes he’d written and plucked “Either Way” for himself. His version ditches the mainstream trappings of Womack’s recording—the light percussion, the dramatic backing vocals, the flickers of pedal steel and fiddle—for a skeletal version that is haunting, pained, solitary, and heartbreaking. “We pass in the hall/On our way to separate rooms/The only time we ever talk/Is when the monthly bills are due,” goes the verse, describing a marriage that has faded from love to indifference. “I’m past the point of give a damn/And all my tears are cried,” Stapleton sings, and for how broken and resigned he sounds, you’d almost believe him. But then the chorus comes around, Stapleton’s voice turning from a whisper to a roar so wracked with emotion that, if it doesn’t send shivers shooting down your spine, you might not have a pulse anymore. “We can just go one like this/Say the word, we’ll call it quits/Baby you can go or you can stay/But I won’t love you either way.”

I firmly believe that Chris Stapleton is the best male vocalist making music right now, in any genre. Traveller offered ample proof of that claim, but “Either Way” makes it indisputable. It’s a song so perfect and so raw that it instantly locks you in its world, and for four minutes, you’re in the darkness of a memory, reliving the worst heartbreak of your life. The first time I heard it, I had to stop working, close my eyes, and just let myself feel the cathartic, exquisite pain of the lyrics and the voice. It’s a work of passion and storytelling that, despite its humble arrangement, begs for your complete attention. There is no better song this year, and I very much doubt there will be.

“Either Way” is probably the only song from From A Room: Volume 1 that lives up to the unimpeachable five-track run that started Traveller—still the best opening run from any album this decade. There is a reason this tune is right smack dab in the center of the album. It’s the eye of the storm, meant to trigger that same “replay side 1” impulse that “Parachute” does when you spin Traveller on wax. But From A Room is leaner and better paced, avoiding the bloat and indulgence that made the back half of Traveller something of an acquired taste. With a runtime of 32 and a half minutes, From A Room: Volume 1 is roughly half as long as its predecessor. And sure, this record isn’t actually finished yet; we’re still getting another disc. But the relatively quick running time is to Stapleton’s benefit, allowing mid-tempo groovers like “I Was Wrong” and “Without Your Love” (or menacing ballads like closer “Death Row”) to marinate in ways that comparable tracks from the last record—“Was It 26,” “The Devil Named Music,” “Outlaw State of Mind”—struggled to do for some listeners. Even “Them Stems”—a lightweight 12-bar blues about being in such a bad way that you smoke the very dregs of your weed stash—feels like it has a place here.

In the future, I’d certainly be interested in hearing something more “out there” and experimental from Chris Stapleton. From A Room is not so much a progression from Traveller as it is a refinement. But it’s also very far from being a sophomore slump. With a voice like the one he’s got, Stapleton could easily cut some pretty shoddy material and still make it sound like heaven. Instead, From A Room is a record filled with extremely well-written songs—about lost souls, broken hearts, and at least one outlaw living on borrowed time—performed by a guy who is completely sure of the artist he wants to be. Bring on Volume 2.

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