#outrocked

[hkjdx9ter]

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[okrarliustshjv]

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[aquidragon]

a new beginning

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader CW(s): canon-typical violence, angst, minor off-screen death Word Count: 3610 This idea came to me in a dream about a week ago, so I finally wrote about it. Sorry that it’s a little sad, it has a happy ending I promise! ---

You were exhausted, grime smeared across your face as your team paused to take a breath inside a small abandoned barn. Formerly, you were in a group of eight, but the number had dwindled to five within the past forty-eight hours of your mission. Your heart ached for the three lost agents, one of them was a newbie, and the other two were trying to save him. The rest of you barely made it out of the hoard alive. 

Leon, your squad leader, seemed quite distressed as he surveyed the last surviving members of his squad. It was obvious he was trying to hide his biased concern towards you, as he checked the wounds of the other agents before you. You understood why, since it would be considered unprofessional if he had shown an unequal amount of concern for his romantic partner, compared to the rest of the agents in the group. 

Disturbing growls could be heard right outside the barn door, which had been haphazardly barricaded with a heavy oak chest. You were seated on a wworn-outrocking chair, taking in your surroundings. It was obvious that the barn was used for some sort of shelter for previous survivors. You could see canned food scattered across the hay-littered floor, as well as other signs of life hidden amongst the clutter. 

You rose to your feet, and a familiar pain in your chest exploded from your heart as you limped over to the small pile of straw. In the center of the sandy yellow grass, a small firetruck sat in the middle The paint was a brilliant glossy red, as well as a ladder was mounted on top of the toy. You crouch down, picking up the toy, feeling nauseated with grief. 

There was a child hiding in here, most likely with their family as they attempted to ride out the horde of infected. You exhale deeply, trying to keep yourself together. This was a part of your job, from countless missions of infected cities across the world, you had seen scenes like this time and time again. You wouldn’t forget the girl in Raccoon City, and the desperation in her father’s voice as he begged Ada not to shoot his daughter. 

You hated Umbrella for putting innocent people through such pain. 

The sound of your name tugged you from your thoughts, you look up at Leon, eyes wet with tears. He frowned at the object at your hands, putting the pieces together. 

“A family was here.” You whisper, trying to hide the sob that was building in your voice. “This probably belonged to a little boy.” 

You hand the firetruck over to Leon, who took it quietly. You had known the man since you were both trapped in Raccoon City together. He had rescued you from the gas station alongside Claire. You still remember him from that night, many years ago, when his empty azure eyes had light still within them.

He blankly looked over the ruby red truck in his hands, jaw tight as he ran his fingers over the smooth metal of the toy. Years of this job had eroded what was left of his soul, leaving gaping holes and cracks that would be difficult to heal. 

To an outsider, your partner might look cold and unfriendly. However, in your shared moments of silence together, you knew he felt the same pain as you did. His heart ached for the innocent lives that were affected by Umbrella the same way it affected yours. It was the reason why you both kept fighting, putting your lives at risk. 

“I hope they’re alright,” was all the blonde could say as he gently placed the toy back in the spot where it sat before.

You nod solemnly, turning your attention to the small farm house that sat across the cornfields. It was surprising that the glass window wasn’t busted, but you weren’t complaining. Leon rests a strong hand on your shoulder, and used the other one to pull your attention away from the scenery. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice hushed. 

Your shoulders shrug slightly, meeting his eyes. “Physically? Besides some bruises I’m fine.” You look back at the truck by your feet. “Mentally? Check back later.” 

Leon nods empathically, squeezing your shoulder, and continuing to cup your cheek. “We’re going to stay here for tonight, we had a heavy loss to our squad today. I’m going to page Hunningan to see what our next moves are. Do you want to take the first watch?” 

You mull the option over in your head, the ache in your muscles screamed for some rest. However, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, a couple hours on guard duty wouldn’t hurt you. 

“That’s fine, I can go on the first watch.” You gesture to the loft above your head. “I’ll sit up there with my gun, I can keep guard over the perimeter, it looks like there is a window up there.” 

Your squad leader nods, his greasy blonde hair moving with his head. “Alright.” He pauses, hands falling back to his sides. “I love you.” His voice is barely audible, but loud enough for you to hear. 

It makes you smile, even just the slightest bit. “I love you too, Leon. Go get some rest.” 

Once the agent walks away, you grab the small toy truck and climb up the ladder to the loft. To your surprise, the loft is quite spacious, with enough room for you to comfortably stand. You sit by the window, which overlooked most of the perimeter of the barn. Most of the window panes were busted, but you should be safe from the height you were at. 

You roll the truck forwards and backward as you look out towards the horizon. The sun had vanished from the sky, leaving the Earth in a shroud of darkness. You look back at the farmhouse, which was situated about one hundred feet away. 

From the distance you were at, it seemed like the ranch-style house was still in decent shape. Besides the entirety of the windows on the first floor being busted, as well as the abundance of infected roaming the area, you would assume the white house was totally normal. 

You study the outside of the building, lazily glancing over the sage-green painted shutters and black tile roof before something catches your attention. A golden glow came from one of the windows of the second floor, and a black figure standing in the center. 

You gasp, digging through your utility belt for the tiny pair of binoculars that you kept on you at all times. You use them to peer closer at the window, hands trembling as you investigate the scene. You see a young boy, no older than six, looking back out the window. 

His hand is pressed against the glass, brown eyes peering down at the zombies below fearfully, his cheeks stained red from countless hours of crying. What stops your heart is the tiny baby in his other arm. You scramble back down the ladder, completely neglecting the binoculars and truck. 

You drop your backpack, fishing out your flashlight, and made sure you have enough ammo to fend off the undead surrounding you. The loud jumbling of objects must have woken up your fellow agents, who were all light sleepers. Leon is the one who approaches you, an expression of confusion drawn across his face. 

“What are you doing?” He questions, crossing his arms, dark eyebrows furrowed. The sheer contrast of his brown eyebrows and bright blue eyes was intimidating. 

“I saw survivors.” You respond simply, finding your favorite automatic weapon in your bag. “A small boy and an infant. I can’t leave them there to die.” 

“You’re not going out there, not now.” The blonde’s voice is urgent, with the slightest hint of panic lurking somewhere in his tone.

 “It’s dark, and there’s a fuck ton of zombies out there. What if there is a Tyrant or Lickers out there as well? Three of my squad members died today, I’m not losing one more.” Leon continues, desperation shaking his voice a bit. 

You rise to your feet from your kneeling position, automatic weapon tight in your hands. “You can’t stop me, Leon. I’m not leaving those two kids out there to die!” You shout, gesturing to the general direction of the white farmhouse. “I’d be dammed if I let them die.” 

Your partner frowns at you, before reaching to grab your wrist, pulling one of your hands off of your gun. “You’re not going, going out there right now is a death wish.” He swallows deeply, Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. “I’m not going to lose you.” 

You pull your wrist from his grip, taking a few steps away from him. “I’m sorry, I have to.” You respond, your words felt like bile in your mouth. It hurt you to defy your boyfriend, it hurt to defy the man you had loved for years. “It’s a risk I have to take.” You step closer to the oak barricade, preparing to push it open. Your supervisor takes another step towards you, blue eyes pleading. 

“Please, I can’t-” 

You tear your gaze away from him, using all of your strength to shove the chest away from the door. Before anyone can grab you, you rush out of the door, running as fast as you can for the farmhouse. You ignore their protests as you dash out, already exhausted muscles burned as your legs moved.

Zombies grabbed at you as you ran, a few stepped on your path and you shot them down. Your lungs begged for oxygen by the time you reached to the hoard right outside of the house. They turned your attention towards you, with their glowing, empty, blood eyes. You shoot the ones who were guarding the door, watching as their lifeless bodies fall to the ground. 

You kick the door down with little hesitation, catching more attention from the undead who were roaming around the first floor. They start to follow you as you make a beeline to the stairs. You groan in pain as your ankle catches one of the steps, and one of the undead grabs your heel. It mercilessly squeezes your limb, as it attempts to drag itself up the stairs with you.

You twist your body around, shooting a bullet through its skull, watching it fall back down the remainder of the steps. You grunt and continue running up your stairs. Your ankle shoots with pain every single time you step your right foot down, as you limp as fast as you can. You eye each door of the second story, trying to remember what floor you saw the child in.

You frantically look down the hallway, before spotting a door. Three zombies were clawing desperately, which was enough evidence that the boy was in that room. Without hesitation, you shoot down the remaining undead, dragging your injured foot behind you. 

You shake the door handle, panic setting in for a moment once you realize the door is locked. You knock at the pastel pink painted door, hissing in pain as the adrenaline begins to wear off. “Please, let me in, I’m here to save you.” 

A couple moments passed and zombies had tracked you down, limping over to your location. You smile painfully to yourself, aiming your sleek weapon at the incoming crowd. Maybe Leon was right, maybe you did just walk into your own demise. Right as your finger begins to pull the trigger, the door cracks open. 

The young boy looks up at you, hands trembling violently. You quickly slide into the room, slamming the door behind you and locking it. You almost immediately fall to your ass, crying out in pain at the stabbing sensation in your ankle. 

The child’s umber eyes are wide and watery as he takes in the sight of you. It must have been a few days since he had seen a fellow surviving human being, based on his expression of pure shock. You ignore your pain as you gently introduce yourself to the tiny boy, then ask for his name.

“My name is Michael…” He mumbles, before gesturing to the swaddle of blankets in the wooden crib in the corner of the room. “That is my baby sister, Poppy.” 

You nod, putting your gun down and giving the child a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you know where your mommy and daddy are?” You try to speak as softly as possible, but you knew that the damage had been done to Michael.

It was evident in his once-innocent, brown eyes, that he had seen the carnage that no human should see. Especially not at his age. 

Michael is quiet for a moment, before pointing at the door behind you, a single tear streaking down his chubby rosy cheek. “Gone.” 

You already knew what his answer would be, but hearing the sheer emptiness of his voice made you want to rip off the head of whatever monster did this to this child. Your stomach churns as your feel your eyes burn with salty tears. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, trying to keep yourself together, for the sake of the children. “I’m here to save you.” 

The pounding at the door makes your promise seem quite empty, you know you can run back to the barn. Not with your sprained ankle, not with a six-year-old boy, and not with a young infant in your arms. The hope that you would make it out alive dwindled with every single second. 

You hoped Leon would rescue you, or anyone, really. Not for yourself, but for the two innocent souls before you. 

Michael doesn’t say anything to you, instead, he simply nods and sits on the floor. You open your mouth to speak again, but a weak babble from the crib silences you.

The six-year-old rose to his feet, walking over to the crib, having to stand on his toes to look inside it. You limp over to it as well, as the baby swaddled in pink blankets looks up at you. She has wide, untarnished blue eyes, that remind you of Leon’s own eyes. 

It makes you smile, but it also makes you cry. Hot tears cut across your skin like a knife as you lost all of your control. You grip onto the wooden crib, falling to your knees with sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

You press your face against the bars of the crib, as Poppy reaches toward you. You tremble a bit at your own grief as you struggle to smile back at her. You had discussed having children with Leon prior, about a year ago. You were open to the idea, but your partner had shot down the concept almost instantly. 

You understood,  in fact, you agreed with him. Both of you led lives that wouldn’t work with you two being parents. It just wasn’t possible with both of you working your dangerous jobs. However, seeing the infant before you made you yearn for that life you could’ve had with Leon. 

A life you would’ve led if the world wasn’t so unfair. 

You are so stuck in your own grief, that you don’t hear the gunshots from just outside of the farmhouse. Michael shakes your shoulder, but you are too lost to the world to be rescued. Your eyes are focused on nothing as you feel the universe crumble around you.

It wasn’t easy to keep yourself together when you were so sure that you were going to die. 

Leon kicks open the door to the bedroom, which succeeds in making Poppy cry. He whips his gun around the room, fully prepared to shoot at any monsters that lurked within. The weapon instantly lowers as soon as he sees your sobbing form, as well as the small boy beside you, clinging onto you fearfully.

He calls your name, signaling to the agents behind him to clear the area with a small gesture. Slowly, he approaches you, hands up in surrender. Michael shakes your shoulder again, repeating your name.

It isn’t until Leon rests his own hand on your spine that you reconnect with reality. You look over at your boyfriend, breathing and picking up as soon as you recognize the features of his handsome face. 

Square face shape.

High cheekbones

Full, pink lips.

A few moles on his cheeks, chin, and one below his left eye. 

And most importantly, those bright azure eyes.

You exhale softly, reaching out to touch his filthy face, smiling slightly. “Leon.”

He nods, bringing you into a hug, and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here, you’re alright.” 

You cling onto the back of his tactical vest, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you shake against him. He shushes your apologies and kisses your cheek. He holds you until you can finally speak normally again, smiling affectionately at you as you fully come back to him.

Michael stares at you both, Poppy held tight in his arms. You gesture to the two children, holding one of Leon’s hands for stability. “This is Michael, and his baby sister Poppy. They’re the survivors I spotted.” Your boyfriend nods, smiling at them. “I’m sorry that I scared you two. I’m Leon Kennedy, I’m her boyfriend.” He gestures to you, by squeezing your hand tightly in assurance. 

The brunette boy nods, sniffing loudly. “Is okay.” 

Leon glances at you, clearing his throat. “I paged in Hunnigan, they’re sending helicopters now. They’re considering this mission a bust.” He sighs deeply. “They’re extracting us from here.” 

You numbly nod at his information, your brain still spinning from the adrenaline crash. The pain in your ankle begins to rear its face again. You didn’t have the energy to speak anymore, fully emotionally and physically drained. 

Leon seems to understand this through, years of being your partner were enough for him to know everything about you. He lets you sit in silence as he talks to Michael. You lean your head on his shoulder as he tells the boy a sanitized story about how he “rescued” you in Raccoon City. 

What shocked you the most, was when your blonde boyfriend reached into this backpack and pulls out a familiar scarlet red object. The boy’s eyes light up, and he exchanges his sister Poppy for the truck in an instant. Leon holds the baby close to him as Michael excitedly reunited with his lost toy. 

Only a few more minutes pass before the familiar hum of the government helicopters sounds outside, you sigh in relief. Evac from the house doesn’t take long, your fellow agents gawk over the young survivors. Praising Michael for being brave and protecting his baby sister.

You rest your head on Leon’s broad shoulder, watching as the boy excitedly told your co-workers about his firetruck. It seemed that he had a bit more of the life left in him than you had thought, which was a wonderful thing. A nurse was busy wrapping your bruised ankle as you watched the commotion. Poppy was a bit malnourished and was airlifted to a nearby hospital for more immediate treatment.

You pursed your lips, a new concern coming to mind. What would happen to Michael and Poppy? Would they be separated? Fostered? Adopted?

Your heart ached at the thought of the two children being put in separate homes, and it especially hurt for the boy. It was obvious he would have some degree of trauma for the rest of his life, something that a lot of parents would struggle to handle. This made you frown, trying to come up with a solution in your head.

“I think you were right,” Leon speaks, catching you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You mumble, looking up at him, a bit confused. “What do you mean, Leon?” “About a family.” Your partner responds with blue eyes focused on Michael. “Our job definitely prevents us from having a typical life, but maybe it’s about time we step down from it. Live the life we were supposed to have.”

You furrow your brows at him, heart pounding in your ears. “What?” 

“Let’s adopt Michael and Poppy.” The agent finally says, chest heaving with a sharp inhale. “We can quit our jobs, find something less dangerous. Give those kids the life they deserve.”

“Leon-”

He shushes you.

“Let’s get married too, I’ve been dragging you along with no ring on your finger for far too long.” The blonde continues, which makes your cheeks flush. “When you ran off to rescue the children, I was so sure I would never see you again. I couldn’t bear the idea of my life without you, and I’ve realized that we deserve so much more than this life we’ve lived so far. 

Leon pauses, breathing in deeply, in preparation. 

Your eyes widen as he sinks to one knee beside you, which captures the attention of almost everyone in the jet. He says your full name, both of his hands clasping one of your smaller ones. “Will you marry me?” 

Your eyes water a bit, but you have cried enough tears within the past hours. Instead, you laugh. Not a mocking laugh, nor a cruel one. You smile at Leon and nod. “Of course, I will.” 

The man before you smiles as well, for a second, you could see a glimpse of the man he was. Before years of bloodshed eroded his soul, before he had been traumatized by the countless tragedies of his lifetime. He presses a kiss to your hand, looking up at you happily. 

“As soon as we land in DC, our new life together begins.”

[creepypastellight]

Rough trade London (UK)

[oilofdog]

#OutRock #Krautrock #Tonight #Sunday and next #Saturday on #OILOFDOG with #GaryStorm on #LKCB streaming at www.lkcb.ca at 8:00 PM Eastern Time. #Limbus4 #Experimental #Music #Radio #Records #Vinyl #CompactDiscs #Cat #Kitty https://www.instagram.com/p/CBtlNH9leQj/?igshid=16enj21zt8fl3

[arterrorist]

If there was something I didn't see comming it's me becoming an Alice Copper fan. It hit me by surprise. I mean big time. I knew Alice since his 90's hit „Poison”, which I liked, but checked the album it was on, called „Trash” and I thought to myself: what an appropriate name for this hair metal garbage! and didn't bother to check anything more.  So I've come quite a long way from regarding him a pedestrian rocker to become an acolite fan. I've accumulated all these records within last month or so. It's my top ten of AC. It happens to contain five Alice Cooper band albums and five from Cooper solo period, mostly from the 70s, Dada being the only 80s album.  

Now, getting to know all these records, I consider Alice Cooper (as a band and solo), as one of the most unique artists in the 70s and it's the era full of brilliant bands.

When they rock, they outrock The Who and are equal to Stones, but they are much more than that. Take those unbelivable theatrical arrangements – all those cheesy, or rather kampy choruses, vaudeville inspirations, strings, brass, along with bluesy harmonica and creepy passages with Alice many times being more of an actor than singer with his incredible interpretations of particular lines. Broadway shmaltz mixed with rock played with swager  – brilliant, catchy and provoking mixture!

And then there are all those wonderfully weird and wacky covers with billion dollar bill in the wallet, pants in the schooldesk, callendar with the hangman, cartboard package, book cover, face being the door to assylum and what not!  

And those clever, witty lyrics, sometimes provokingly schocking, sometimes pointing out important social problems, sometimes achingly honest, horror-themed (often in burtonesque way) or speaking directly to the mind of adolescents and sometimes utterly bizzare. Like the one song which is a dental horror, complete with the drilling noises with the story about pulling the teeth, being druged to the point when you halucinate being in a spy movie, with the triumphant fanfare moment of pulling the teeth out. All perfectly accompanied by evershifting musical soundtrack: bombastic when needed, sparse when necessery, cinematic at times and rocking hard when it fits the purpose. And it's only one song of the album, on which others are no less adventurous, but in it's own different way and still remain cohesive. And it's only one album with at least ten others full of their own intricacies to discover and complement the picture of this versatile phenomenon know as Alice Cooper.  

Of course there are more, I just happen to like those ten here the most, but there may be some others comming. I seem to geting like the so called blackout period. „Flush the fashion, Special Forces, Zipper catches skin” - they all have some good material plus I'm still digesting the first two albums by the band, so who knows. I'm not much into later (to this day) Alice period as I think he kinda dwarfed himself to this hard rock/metal persona abandoning most of his uniquness in the process. I mean it was always a rock band of course, but also something more than just it and I feel all the rest is gone now. Anyway those early Cooper stuff is amazing and in constant rotation on my turntable for about a month, and I'm sure, for many years to come.

[rockmusicassoc]

Birthday wishes to the late great Prince Rogers Nelson, born in the rock 6/7/1958. It’s easy to forget with his total mastery of funk, RnB, and pop, but Prince could outrock anybody who stepped on the stage, in any era. #Prince #TheArtist #RockHonorRoll http://bit.ly/2Ilg63i

[dustedmagazine]

The Anomalys — Glitch (Slovenly)

Glitch by The Anomalys

“Smart Patrol” hurtles into view among a barrage of drumfire, an exultant pounding that knocks the stuffing out of this brief, riff-driven cut. The drummer—that’s Rémi Pablo—easily outrocks every other Anomaly in this cut, the shrieking, slashing guitars, the shouted verse and chorus. And yet, the rest of it is pretty good, too, a feral blend of punk and surf and rockabilly.

The Anomalys are a Dutch garage band, whose first full-length came out in 2010, and now, a scattering of EPs and 12 years later, they follow up with Glitch. In the interval, they’ve picked up a couple of guys from King Khan’s larger network, the drummer Remi Pablo and French punk guitarist Looch Vibrato of MAGNETIX and Louder Than Death. The main continuity comes from band-leader Bone, who sings and plays guitar.  

The sound is loud and primitive, sped up like a locomotive with its back cars on fire. “Trooper” rattles and clatters headlong. A monster blare of guitar surges, then cuts dead for the verse (something about “my baby” and “kicking ass”), in a display of unhinged precision. “Anomalys Rise” is, if anything, even better, x-ing out the vocals for a galloping surf overload. The song moves so fast that the guitars seem to blur. Even lifer punks need the occasional breather, which comes in the ghostly 12/8 blues “Dead Friends,” its spidery guitar picking running into a wall of amplified noise. 

This is pretty basic stuff, done well and with a startling conviction. If you ever liked the Sonics but thought the Dirtbombs got a little too fancy, try the Anomalys. If only for the rupturing, rapturous drums.

Jennifer Kelly

[gojiro]

The Vinyl of the Day is ‘Welcome To The Pleasuredome’, the debut album by Frankie Goes To Hollywood, 1984.

Damn I don’t even know where to start with Frankie, talking about the history of this band could take up 4 or 5 editions of ‘Vinyl of the Day’, even though they had a short history. But let’s start at the beginning I guess. The band formed around Holly Johnson in the Liverpool punk scene in the late ‘70s, but took a number of incarnations before they hit their stride, and began to have a string of hit singles that became extremely popular in the club scene in 1982, and then in 1983 they exploded and became a worldwide phenomenon. Who here still DOESN’T own a ‘FRANKIE SAY RELAX’ T-shirt?

“Frankie” broke absolutely huge in a manner seldom seen in music, and part of it was the unabashed marketing of them as openly homosexual. From Wikipedia;

ZTT Records co-founder Paul Morley mapped out the marketing campaign fashioned as a “strategic assault on pop”. Morley opted to tackle the biggest possible themes in the band’s singles (“sex, war, religion”), of which “Relax” would be the first, and emphasized the shock impact of Frankie members Holly Johnson’s and Paul Rutherford’s open homosexuality in the packaging and music videos.

Morley intentionally courted scandal with the promotion of “Relax”. ZTT initiated the ad campaign for “Relax” with two quarter-page ads in the British music press. The first ad featured images of Rutherford in a sailor cap and a leather vest, and Johnson with a shaved head and rubber gloves. The images were accompanied by the phrase “ALL THE NICE BOYS LOVE SEA MEN” and declared “Frankie Goes to Hollywood are coming … making Duran Duran lick the shit off their shoes … Nineteen inches that must be taken always.” The second ad promised “theories of bliss, a history of Liverpool from 1963 to 1983, a guide to Amsterdam bars”.

The song ‘Relax’ was famously banned by the BBC, along with the original video on music video stations - although ‘Relax’ was still continuously being played as a massive hit on the charts. Actually at the time, the band firmly denied that ‘Relax’ lyrics were sexual at all! It wasn’t until 1985 that the band admitted what everyone else already knew;

Everything I say is complete lies. Like, when people ask you what ‘Relax’ was about, when it first came out we used to pretend it was about motivation, and really it was about shagging.— Mark O'Toole, Welcome to the Pleasuredome album liner notes

Finally the group grew so popular that it was a must to release their first album, and the double album ‘Welcome To The Pleasuredome’ was the result - but also not without controversy, because the album was almost completely made up of new versions of the band’s previous hit singles, along with numerous cover versions of previous hits (like Edwin Starr’s ‘War’ and Springsteen’s ‘Born To Run’). That might have angered Frankie’s existing fans, but for new listeners it was great to basically start off with a ‘greatest hits’ collection, which ‘Pleasuredome’ certainly is! 

A very interesting fact about Frankie and the records, is that almost none of the actual band plays on the songs - when the band was discovered by producer Trevor Horn, he saw them as more of a marketing campaign of a ‘strategic assault on pop’, and wound up either hiring studio musicians to play the instruments, or recorded them himself. The band was too intimidated by him and his reputation to object, and for all intents and purposes Trevor Horn WAS the band Frankie Goes To Hollywood, only keeping Holly Johnson’s vocals from the band itself. It wasn’t until their second album ‘Liverpool’ that the band members actually recorded their own songs!

Overall, ‘Pleasuredome’ is a genre-spanning, sometimes wacky, kinda weird, highly original but very musical epic ‘concept’ example of 80s synthpop at it’s peak. “Frankie” (Trevor Horn) was highly original in the efforts to produce 'dance' music with more of an edge, using substantial electric guitar work and aggressive rhythms. This is even more impressive when one takes the time to listen to the expert ways that they intertwine and phase in-and-out similar rhythms, syncopate,etc., keeping things far from the monotony that plagued a lot of synth of the time. If you’re ANY kind of fan of the 80s, this album is a must-listen and must-own - over 30 years later it’s still a masterpiece. MAKE THE WORLD YOUR OYSTER!

AllMusic Review by Ned Raggett

Strip away all the hype, controversy, and attendant craziness surrounding Frankie -- most of which never reached American shores, though the equally bombastic "Relax" and "Two Tribes" both charted well -- and Welcome to the Pleasuredome holds up as an outrageously over-the-top, bizarre, but fun release. Less well known but worthwhile cuts include by-definition-camp "Krisco Kisses" and "The Only Star in Heaven," while U.K. smash "The Power of Love" is a gloriously insincere but still great hyper-ballad with strings from Anne Dudley. In truth, the album's more a testament to Trevor Horn's production skills than anything else. To help out, he roped in a slew of Ian Dury's backing musicians to provide the music, along with a guest appearance from his fellow Yes veteran Steve Howe on acoustic guitar that probably had prog rock fanatics collapsing in apoplexy. The end result was catchy, consciously modern -- almost to a fault -- arena-level synth rock of the early '80s that holds up just fine today, as much an endlessly listenable product of its times as the Chinn/Chapman string of glam rock hits from the early '70s. Certainly the endless series of pronouncements from a Ronald Reagan impersonator throughout automatically date the album while lending it a giddy extra layer of appeal. Even the series of covers on the album at once make no sense and plenty of it all at once. While Edwin Starr's "War" didn't need redoing, Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run" becomes a ridiculously over-the-top explosion that even outrocks the Boss. As the only member of the band actually doing anything the whole time (Paul Rutherford pipes up on backing vocals here and there), Holly Johnson needs to make a mark and does so with appropriately leering passion. He didn't quite turn out to be the new Freddie Mercury, but he makes a much better claim than most, combining a punk sneer with an ear for hyper-dramatic yelps.

Here’s the original uncensored video of ‘Relax’;

[edge-of-bizarre]

ingerman baby headcanons!!! maybe some of faflegs?

i’m gonna assume that is fishlegs

6 kiddos!!! that’s a lot!!!!

first, a big baby boy, he’s the only one i have named cause coming up with some baller girls names is hard, Finley was a huge baby, but v quiet and timid, seperation anxiety, took a lot of time for that kid to play with other kids. he’s a big sweetheart, helps mom and dad with his sisters, and has a big heart and very bery kind. he’s just a good kid

second kid, argumentative as hell!!! she’s kinda a lil shit, but in the best of ways. Fishlegs likes hearing her arguments and as she gets older she gets more coherent and definitely could be on a debate team. she’s a lil bossy, and sarcastic. good kid deep down, still has dad tuck her in even tho she says she’s too old for it. she’s a cool kid

third kid, this kid eats everything, puts everything in her mouth, fishlegs has pulled outrocks, and probably a live fish. She is p scrappy and fishlegs will give her a bath, turn around, and she’s already tracking mud through the house. he finds weird things in her pockets (his collecting nature) and prob has gotten into some rows with the neighbor kid that made fun of her

originially, 3 was what the ingerman was planning, but as the kids got older, what’s one more? they’re so cute. one more turned into a surprise two, and the twins arrived. They’re more like their older brother, but they’re both a bit more fussy. they both love fantasy stuff, both love dress up, and love hearing dad’s stories.

lastly, the smallest, baby-est one. also a bit of a surprise… but none the lesss, the final member of the ingerman family. Briar (she has a name only cause she’s the youngest lmao, i have a story of her name tbh) she was quiet, weirdly quiet. fishlegs worried something was wrong because she wasn’t talking yet, and wouldn’t say simple things, she was nonverbal for a very long time. then one day, fishlegs was trying get her ready to go to the park and “daddy, i prefer the purple dress” and she jsut started speaking in full sentences. tends to stick with her older brother rather than her sisters, and prefers to observe.

i need to come up with names

[mitjalovse]

We could see the genre of post-rock as a compendium of intriguing musicians who want to outrock the boundaries of the idiom. Nonetheless, some patterns can be noticed, such as their lack of vocals and, shockingly, a return to the rules of the early rock music. I mean, the fact these groups mostly play instrumentals remind us of some bands from the 60's who did the same. Sure, you cannot compare, for instance, Maserati with The Shadows, they're two completely different outfits, but there's something similar about them. While Maserati might not be as buoyant as the English collective, they seem to be channeling the other gathering's virtuosity into other areas. Moreover, Maserati are quite approachable for a post-rock brand, yet the hermeticism is a tired excuse to dismiss the idiom.

[oilofdog]

#ExperimentalRock #Tonight #Sunday and next #Saturday on #OILOFDOG with #GaryStorm on #LKCB streaming at www.lkcb.ca at 8:00 PM Eastern Time. #CaptainBeefheart #MarijuanaDeathsquads #BuffaloDaughter #BitchAndAnimal #Jarboe #ThatDog #TheResidents #MrBungle #GreatMusicians #OutRock #Music #Radio #Records #Vinyl #CompactDiscs #Cat #Kitty https://www.instagram.com/p/CBJKEaYFUIJ/?igshid=18b6od5eyufus

[rockmusicassoc]

Birthday wishes to the late great Prince Rogers Nelson, born in the rock 6/7/1958. It’s easy to forget with his total mastery of funk, RnB, and pop, but Prince could outrock anybody who stepped on the stage, in any era. #Prince #TheArtist #RockHonorRoll https://ift.tt/3f49Rj5

[mitjalovse]

I think the reason many have issues with post-rock is the fact the term does not describe properly what these bands try to achieve. If I take a cue from Soulages' term for his own paintings, I would call the genre outrock, because that's what these groups intend to do, i.e. they use the context of the rock music to go sonically outside the idiom. I mean, Rachel's are actually a modern classical outfit, though they use the machinery of a rock collective. However, they're not similar to Balmorhea, they're pretty much their own island. Yes, each gathering of musicians which works within post-rock tends to be like that, they are connected through the category only, whereas their pieces differ immensely from one another.